#give it three to five more watches and I'll finally have a fic for it lmfaooo

[catcatb0y]

You'll never guess who just finished Promare again.

[sanguineterrain]

i'll put us back together at heart - s.h.

Summary: It's 1987. You haven't spoken to Steve Harrington in nearly five years. Then Dustin Henderson tells you about a sweet deal he has at Family Video, where he can rent any movie he wants.

Pairing: ex-best friend!Steve Harrington x fem!reader

Word count: 8.8k

Warnings/tags: friends to strangers to lovers. the reader is twenty in 1987 and i technically made steve twenty-one/about to turn twenty-one. s4 happened but eddie's alive and vecna's dead. no earthquakes or anything like that; reader has no idea about what really happened. lots of angst, mentions of billy hargrove (yuck) and steve's s1 asshole friends.

A/N: oh my lord. i don't know where this eighteen-wheeler of a fic came from but here it is. there is a happy ending, not to worry. i'd never do that to y'all <3 feedback and reblogs are always always appreciated!

divider by firefly-graphics

August 1981

"I wish we could stay eighth graders forever."

You lift your head from your orange pool floaty. Steve drifts on the surface of the water. His hair is longer, way longer than you've seen it in the three years you've been friends. He says it's better for styling that way; he's even bought a gel and cream for his hair. You don't understand why he wants to change something that doesn't need changing. 

"Why?" you ask. "I thought you were excited for high school."

He hums. The sound echoes in his backyard. 

"It's bigger than middle school. More kids, more teachers, more work. I like eighth grade."

"I'll help you with your work," you say. 

Steve turns his head and smiles at you. Part of his face is in the water, the image distorted. 

"You'll do great," he replies. "You're so smart."

Steve doesn't say those things to get you to help him like other kids do. Steve means it. 

"You'll do great too," you say. "You're funny and nice and my best friend. People will like you."

"You think?" 

You nod. Steve turns his head and closes his eyes again. 

"We'll stay friends, right?" he asks. 

The floaty squeaks as you move to sit up. You paddle to Steve so you can look at his face. 

"Why wouldn't we?"

"I dunno." His eyes are still closed. "You might make super smart friends. And I'll just be a dumbass holding you back."

You shove Steve's shoulder lightly. 

"You are not dumb, Steve."

One muggy June night had had Steve admit he wasn't thirteen, like you and all the kids in your class, but fourteen. He had been held back in third grade after his parents moved from Illinois. It's why my brain's mush, he'd said. I was born dumb.

He had made you swear not to tell anyone. 

"You're not dumb," you say again. "Say it, Steve. Say you're not dumb."

His frown deepens, but he still won't look at you. 

"Tommy says I am."

"Tommy Hagan is a shithead," you shoot back with so much venom, Steve's eyes fly open. "It's not true, whatever he tells you."

You hate that they've been hanging out more this summer. You can't tell Steve that, because it's not like you own him. He can be friends with whoever he wants. But you can't help that your skin crawls when Tommy and his stupid girlfriend, Carol, drops by and pulls Steve away from you. 

“Promise?” he asks.

“Yes, Steve. I promise.”

“‘Kay.” Steve smiles a little. “Thanks.” 

You nod and lay back on the floaty. 

“Wanna get ice cream after this?” he asks. 

“Just us?” 

“Just us.”

Now. (January, 1987)

You slam the phone back onto the receiver. A girl playing Pac-Man carefully glances at you. 

Whoops. Right. You're still at work. 

You smile and give a thumbs-up. She turns around. You return to your wallowing. 

You’ve called three different video rentals. Jewel Films, which is about to go out of business; More Movies, whose attendant hung up on you before you could say Molly Ringwald; and finally, Blockbuster, which is thirty minutes outside of Hawkins. None of them have a copy of Pretty in Pink. 

And okay. You could just watch another movie. You don't need that specific one. But this year has been shit. You'd thought after starting college, you'd finally break out of the Hawkins forcefield that had limited your social life. You'd thought you'd make friends and not be so terribly lonely. Life is supposed to get better after high school, isn’t it? 

Obviously, whoever said that is a big, fat liar. 

“Dude!” you hear a familiar voice exclaim. “Stop hogging the game!”

Tawny curls peek from under a green and yellow hat. The hat hovers over an older boy who’s glued to the Tempest booth. You go to them. Dustin Henderson lights up when he sees you. You can read his hat now; it says Camp Know Where ‘85.

“Hey, Y/N!” he greets brightly. “This guy has been here for a half hour. I left to get nachos and when I came back, he was still here.”

“I’m this close to beating my score!” the kid insists.

“Come on, guy," you say, one arm on the machine. "You gotta give other people a turn."

The kid, evidently demon incarnate, sneers at you.

“Who’s gonna make me? You?” 

You lean against the side of the game, considering.

“How old are you?”

“Sixteen,” he says.

You snort. 

“Sixteen? And you’re still on Tempest?”

He glances at you. 

“So?”

“Everybody your age is playing Rampage, that’s all.” 

You wink at Dustin. He beams.

“And, uh, I saw a couple girls hanging around Rampage,” you add. 

The kid turns to you. You tilt your head innocently. 

“Seriously?” he asks.

“Seriously. People always flock to the new games.”

Which is true. The girls part is not, but he doesn’t need to know that. With that attitude, he won't be getting many phone numbers anyway. 

You drum your fingers on the game like you have all the time in the world. And sure enough, the kid takes his quarters and heads towards Rampage. Dustin jumps in delight. 

“You’re awesome, Y/N!" 

You grin. “I try. Where are the others?”

Dustin sours.

“They ditched me. To hang out with their girlfriends! Can you believe that shit?” 

“No way!"

He shakes his head.

“I know, right? My friend told me that that’s what happens in high school. People change, y’know? And he’d know, I guess. He’s old like you.”

You scoff. “You make me sound like some kind of ancient. I’m not that old, Henderson.”

“It’s okay, Y/N.” He pats your arm. “In many cultures, the elderly are wise. Now in my experience, this hasn’t been the case. But I think you’re wise.”

“Gee, thanks.”

Dustin smiles like the little shit he is and puts his change in the slot. 

“Well, contrary to what this other friend says, I’m sure it’ll pass,” you say. “You guys will hang out again." 

You swallow your acidic truth. Dustin's a good kid, and so are his friends. You don't want him to turn cynical like you have. He's too young. 

Dustin shrugs, starting the game.

“I guess so. I got a copy of The Lost Boys for us to watch on Friday. They said they’ll be there.”

“Whoa, seriously? That one just came out, how’d you get a copy?”

“My friend,” he says. “The one I mentioned. He works at Family Video and reserves stuff for me.”

“Huh. I thought Family Video was closed."

You'd applied to work there last year and never got a call back. You'd gone by once and it had looked abandoned. Hence why you now work at the arcade across town. 

"It almost did, but Keith took over so now it's barely scraping by."

"Ah. Sweet deal on the movies."

“Yeah,” Dustin agrees, eyes crinkling. “My friend's pretty cool. You'd like him."

"Would I now?"

"Absolutely," he gushes. "He's a total badass too. He won his first fight last year. He used to be a jock but he's recovered." 

"Wow. Impressive."

"Mmhm. I could ask him to hold stuff for you too, if you wanted.”

“You would?”

The game makes a sad game over noise. Dustin sighs and takes a gulp of his slushie.

“Yeah, totally,” he says through a mouthful of blue raspberry ice. “Which one do you want?”

“Pretty in Pink? I missed it in theaters."

“Sure. I’ll tell him to hold it tonight and tomorrow you can pick it up.”

“Cool. Thanks, Dustin.”

Dustin gives you an apple-cheeked grin.

“Gotta stay in good graces with the arcade attendant who lets me play Tempest as long as I want.”

"I don't know what you're talking about," you say, walking away. "Don't get slushie on the game."

"'Kay!"

Dustin only gets a little bit of slushie on the game, but he cleans it up with about a million of the cheap snack bar napkins. When he leaves, he tells you to mention his name at Family. 

"Who do I ask for?" 

"You can talk to either of them," Dustin says. "Doesn't matter. Except Keith. You know Keith, right?"

"Unfortunately.” Keith used to terrorize the arcade before he blessedly moved on. “He works there?"

"Barely." Dustin scoffs. "He's almost never there, so don't worry. And feel free to ask for more movies. They owe me one."

Your sole interactions are with professors and a gaggle of high school freshmen. But now you get to watch any movie you want. Maybe this year won't totally suck. 

The bell rings pleasantly as you step inside. There's a few people on line, so you take your time walking in. There's a movie display with about thirty copies of RoboCop. A cardboard cutout of RoboCop stares back behind his red helmet.

"Can I help who's next?"

You go to the counter. A girl about your age with a choppy haircut smiles at you but it's sort of strained. She has a pin on her green work vest that says Ask me!

"Please don't ask for Adventures in Babysitting," she says. 

"Oh. No, I'm, uh, Dustin's friend?" 

You can't believe you're name-dropping a high schooler. 

She nods in realization. 

"Oh, yeah. God, I keep telling that dweeb not to promise holds."

You wince. 

"Sorry. If it's going to get you in trouble…"

Her brows raise. She smiles a bit. 

"No, it's okay. Usually my coworker deals with it but, well. He's taking an extra long break today. So, what movie was it?"

"Pretty in Pink," you say. 

"Classic," she replies. "John Hughes fan?"

"Somewhat. I didn't get to see it in theaters. I like Molly Ringwald."

She grins.

"Me too. She's pretty."

"Super pretty," you agree. 

The girl considers you, then sticks out her hand. 

"I'm Robin," she says. "Nice to meet you."

You take her hand. "Y/N.”

"Did you go to Hawkins High?"

"I did. Graduated last year."

"Oh, cool. Are you in college?"

You nod. 

"Hawkins State. Twenty minutes from here."

"Sweet! I'm taking a gap year, but afterwards, I’m gonna apply there. It's cheap. College is college, right?"

"College is college," you agree. "But I wish I'd gone away for school."

You don't know why you're telling her this. You've known Robin for all of two minutes. But she seems friendly. And her sense of style is cool. She wears a blue blazer and tie underneath her vest. 

"How come?" she asks. 

"Everybody from Hawkins is there," you say. "And I… I just want a new start."

Robin smiles sympathetically. 

"They're jerks," she says. 

You huff. "Yeah."

You'd turned yourself into a social recluse a million years ago. It's your own damn fault you can't befriend anybody in this town. At least, not anymore. 

Robin types into the computer, then smacks the monitor. She groans. 

"Ugh. Gimme a second," she says. "Stupid technology."

"No problem," you say, smiling. You like her. Maybe you can integrate Family Video into your regular routine, become friends. You can see Robin becoming a good friend. One you wouldn't grow apart from. 

She disappears into the back room. You browse the old releases and stop at Die Hard. This one you saw in theaters. John McClane is a badass. 

You think of Dustin, and his supposedly badass new friend. It's too bad you didn't meet today. Dustin has a good sense about people. If he says so, it's possible you and this friend really would get on. 

The bell rings again. You're slow to look up. The entrance is empty when you do. You keep reading about John McClane's adventures. 

"Have you been waiting long?"

You turn at the new voice. The video slips out of your hand and clatters onto the counter. 

Steve’s hair has grown since you last saw it. He looks different too, though he has yet to break out of his signature church boy polos. There's a smattering of stubble on his jaw. His arms are lean with muscle. He wears a matching work vest like Robin's, name tag printed Steve in blocky font. 

He looks at where you've dropped Die Hard and smiles. 

"This is a good one," he says. "John McClane is a total badass."

You blink.

"Did you want to rent that one?" he continues, meeting your eye. 

"No," you manage. 

"Okay, no problem. Just browsing?" 

He doesn't remember you. 

You stare and stare. Steve leans in, concerned. He's changed, but he hasn't. He's still handsome with his swoopy hair and big, dark eyes, but the Steve you knew wouldn't have been caught dead working at a video store.

And he doesn't remember you. 

"Are you okay?" he asks, sounding genuine.

You take a step back from the counter. The blood roars in your ears. Robin comes back in, Pretty in Pink in hand. She looks at you, then at Steve. 

"Got it!" she tells you. "Computer should work now."

"I have to go," you say. 

You don't look at Steve again, instead focusing on Robin. 

Her brows rise. 

"Oh. Is everything—"

"I forgot my wallet," you blurt. "I can't pay for the movie. Sorry."

"That's okay, we can just—"

You run. The bell chimes over her words. You keep running until you get to the bus stop, three blocks away. 

Only there do you stop to catch your breath. 

And then you cry. 

February 1982

"What do you think about Marie?" 

You look up from your textbook. Steve is doodling in the margins of his notes. You gently prod his arm. He returns to reading but his leg starts to bounce under the table. 

"Marie Iverson?" you ask.

"Yeah." 

Steve glances at you. He pushes his hair back. It had taken him freshman year to get his bearings with all the gels and creams, but now, his hair is a point of pride, always perfectly coiffed. Seniors call him "The Hair" and high-five him in the hallway. You hate it. 

"I don't know. I don't know her that well."

"She's cute." 

"I guess so," you say. 

It's harder to get Steve to focus on homework these days. Last year, he happily made flashcards with you and even bought fancy gel pens to share for your notes. Now, he prefers to talk about girls or—

"I was thinking of asking her out."

The tip of your pencil breaks. You really ought to start using pens, but you don't like being unable to erase. 

"Shit, here. Take mine." 

Steve offers his still perfectly sharpened pencil. You stare at it. 

"Y/N?" 

"Yeah." You take the pencil. "Thanks."

"Sure. So what do you think?" 

"I don't know, Steve. I thought you talked about this stuff with Tommy."

"I would, it's just…" Steve shifts uncomfortably. "He can be rude about it sometimes. He doesn't even get why we're friends, y'know? Doesn't understand why I don't just date you."

Tommy is a moron, but you've said that since last year, and Steve's never listened before. 

"Some people don't get it," you say mildly, because you have an upcoming French test and there's no use in getting upset over Tommy Hagan right now. 

"But you do. And you know about this stuff better than me. Girls and all."

"Just because I'm a girl doesn't mean I know what girls are best for you to date, Steve. It's weird to talk about."

Steve deflates. 

"Oh. Yeah, I guess so. Sorry."

You sigh and rub your temple. 

"I thought you knew all about that," you say, extending an olive branch. "Asking girls out and stuff."

"Well, I mean, I've kissed girls but I've never… you're, like, the only girl I really know."

Something like pride swells in your chest. Selfishly, you want to keep Steve. You don't want to help him if it means losing him. Oh, you're so greedy, aren't you? You watch Steve run off with Tommy and Carol and nameless seniors and seethe, because Steve was yours first. Steve is yours.

"Y/N?"

"Yeah." You give him back his pencil and fish for another one in your bag. "Did you ever think about writing how you feel?" 

"Writing?"

"Yeah, like a poem or a letter."

"I'm terrible at writing," Steve laments. "The letters get all jumbled and I never spell a damn thing right."

He'd told his mom once how letters melt into each other, how b's become d's. She'd taken him to get his eyes checked, and when the doctor said Steve was fine, Deborah Harrington had told her son to stop begging for attention. 

"Someone who really likes you won't care about spelling mistakes, Steve," you tell him. "As long as you write from the heart. Don't do that cheesy shit and quote Romeo and Juliet. They're young, impulsive, and they die at the end, and that's not romantic."

Steve laughs, nose scrunched. 

"What!" you demand. "What's so funny?"

"Nothing, 's just—of course you'd have something to say about quoting Shakespeare."

"It's overdone," you say, crinkling your nose. "And girls would much rather read your own words." 

"So you think I should write Marie a letter?"

"If you really like her," you say. "Only write letters for girls you really like. Otherwise they lose their meaning."

Steve frowns. "I don't know if I should write her a letter, then."

Don't, you want to say. Don't write any of them letters.

You shuffle your papers into a stack. 

"Can we study now?" you ask.

"Oh, sure, yes. Sorry."

"You don't have to keep apologizing, Steve."

He shifts closer to you. His leg has stopped bouncing.

"Lemme take you out," he says. 

You nearly swallow your tongue. 

"Wh–what?"

"For ice cream," Steve clarifies. "Like we used to. Dairy Queen."

"Oh. Okay, sure. But after we study."

Steve beams. "I'll drive you."

Steve's dad had bought him the BMW as a birthday present this year—not that Richard Harrington actually knows when his own son's birthday is, considering the gift was three months early. Still, it's another point of pride for Steve and about all anybody talks about whenever his name comes up. Steve is the only person in your grade with a car. Junior girls hit him up for rides. You make yourself scarce when they do. 

You don't care. You liked Steve before the car. And the clothes. And the hair. 

Your throat feels tight. You want your best friend back. 

"Just us?" you check. 

You can't tell these days. Steve seems to hang out with everybody but you. You're shocked he'd even asked to study together. 

"Oh, sure," Steve says. "I just have to drop off Tommy and Carol first, okay?" 

You check your watch and close your book. 

"I have class," you lie. "I'll see you later." 

Steve catches your wrist. He looks at you and you're struck by how sweet his face is. It's not like you didn't understand why girls want him but it's Steve. Your Steve, who still sleeps with a nightlight and who framed a picture of a sports car he cut out from a magazine because he'd thought it would make him cooler (it didn't. You still tease him about it.) 

"Please," he says. "For helping me."

Your eyes slit. "I didn't help you to get stuff, Steve. I helped you because you're my friend."

Steve blinks like he's forgotten what it's like to be friends with someone just for the sake of being friends. 

"You're right," he agrees. "You're not like that. I'll tell Tommy and Carol to find another ride. It'll be just us. I promise."

You perk up at that. "Really?"

"Really. You can sit in the front with me and we'll play Bruce Springsteen, like we used to. Please?" 

"Okay, Steve." You ache. You’ve never been very good at telling him no. "I'll meet you in the parking lot."

And maybe… maybe your best friend is still in there after all.

Now

You ask your shift manager if you can work at the snack bar today. It's in the back and you won't have to deal with any game hogs. 

"You didn't put enough syrup in my slushie."

You might have overshot the perks, though. 

Slushie Girl's hair is bleach blonde and hairsprayed to God. You want to tell her that all that hairspray doesn't keep friends. Or brain synapses. 

"I don't make the slushie," you say for the third time. "That's how it comes out of the machine."

She shoots you a mean look. 

"I'm complaining to the manager."

You paste on a smile. 

"You do that. Have a nice day."

She finally walks away, probably on the hunt for your manager, who's definitely smoking a joint outside to avoid this exact situation. 

Dustin comes around the corner and this time, he's with the rest of his party. You smile. 

"Hey, Y/N!" Dustin greets.

Lucas waves at you. Max and Mike are arguing and therefore are in their own world. And there's their newest addition, El, whose story you're still not clear on, as well as Will, quiet as always. 

You lean your elbows on the countertop. 

"What'll it be, gang?"

"Six nachos and six slushies, please. One blue raspberry, three cherry, and two Coke."

You fill up the slushies first. Dustin dances on his toes. 

"So did you pick up the movie?" he asks.

"Oh." You try to smile. "I went there but I couldn't. I forgot my money. Pretty dumb of me."

Dustin accepts this with no argument. 

"Well, you can go back. They'll hold it for a few days."

You're never setting foot in there again, but you don't tell Dustin that. 

He takes his slushie and immediately starts drinking. 

"Slow down, dude. You'll get a brain freeze," you say. 

"You sound like Steve," Dustin informs you. "Doesn't Y/N sound like Steve?" 

Lucas nods. 

"Yup. They're both parents."

You feel queasy. You focus on making the nachos, the cheese pouring out thick and gooey. 

"Did you meet Steve?" Dustin asks. "You probably know him from high school, but he's different now."

"Yes," you say quietly. "I knew him."

"I promise he's different. Even Mike likes him, and Mike hated his guts. Right, Mike?"

Mike pauses in his animated discussion with Max and looks at you. 

"What?"

"I'm telling Y/N about how Steve is cool now," Dustin explains. 

"Oh." Mike shrugs. "He's fine. Much better now that he's not dating my sister."

"He's not?" you ask. "But they were in love. I–I mean, that's what I heard, at least."

"She dumped his ass," El says, and it sounds a little ridiculous in her soft monotone. 

Max scoffs, taking her Coke slushie. 

"Did you live under a rock? It was a huge thing."

"Now Steve is lame," Mike says with a snort. 

"Getting dumped doesn't make somebody lame," you say with an old ferocity you'd thought had disappeared. 

"Okay, jeez." Mike holds up his hands. "Steve's alright. He's different, that's for sure."

"He's our paladin," Lucas says. "A protector." 

Dustin nods eagerly.

You blink. "He protects you guys?"

Max elbows Lucas. You have no idea what that's about. El steps forward and smiles softly. 

"Yes," she says. "He's our babysitter."

"Aren't you guys freshmen? I thought you were too old for babysitters."

"Oh no, Steve doesn't get paid for it or anything," says Mike. "He just does it 'cause he has nothing else to do."

"That's not true!" Dustin argues. Then he shrugs. "Well, it's a little true. But he does like us. He's a good guy. He cares about his friends."

You bite your tongue, not wanting to reply to that. 

"That's great, guys. The girl, Robin? She seems pretty cool too."

"That's Steve's best friend," says Dustin. "She's great."

"Oh." You wince. "Best friend?" 

Dustin huffs. “Yeah. They don’t date. He won’t say why."

"Platonic with a capital P," Max confirms. “It’s obviously because he’s in love with somebody else.”

“Not Nancy!” Lucas protests.

“There are other girls besides Nancy, Sinclair.”

You busy yourself with serving the last set of nachos. The kids pull out crumpled bills and coins in return. You count the money and stack it directly into the register; you know there won't be any change. 

When you turn, they're still there. Dustin has his signature grin on, eyes squinty. 

"Yeees," you drag out. "Can I help you?"

"We need a favor," Lucas says. "Please."

"Hmm." You lean over the counter. "What's up?"

"They're showing Prince of Darkness on Friday," Dustin explains. "But it's rated R."

"So just sneak in. Isn't that what you guys did at Starcourt?" you ask.

"We had an inside man then. They're a lot stricter at the new one," Lucas frowns. "They ask for IDs 'cause some mom complained after her kid snuck in to watch Risky Business." 

"And why can't your babysitter take you?"

You sneer at the thought. Steve spending his Friday nights herding a bunch of adolescent teens into a movie theater. There's a reason you consider Dustin affectionately delusional. 

"He has a stupid date," Dustin groans. "He's a serial dater, Y/N. It's terrible. He gets lucky once and totally ditches us."

Now that sounds like the Steve you knew. 

"I see. I don't really like horror stuff."

"You don't have to stay!" Dustin insists. "You can watch whatever you want after we’re in. I'll pay you back for the ticket."

“This would be so much easier if Steve still worked at Scoops,” Mike grumbles.

You blank for a moment, the image of Steve in a sailor’s hat and those ridiculous shorts whiting your brain.

“Um,” you begin. “You know I don’t have a fancy BMW to cart you guys around in, right?”

“It’s cool. We’ll get there,” Max says.

“So?” Dustin bounces on his toes. “Sooo?”

You sigh. It’d been nice of Dustin to get you the movie, even though you’d chickened out and ran. And it’s not like you have anything better to do.

“Okay,” you say. “I’ll get you guys in.”

Dustin pumps his fist. “Thanks, Y/N! You’re my favorite old person.”

You roll your eyes. “Funny. Any funnier, and I might rescind my help, Henderson.”

“Byeeee!”

They all disperse to the arcade. You wonder how on earth Steve got involved with them.

March 1983

“Okay, but if you had to choose.”

“Pass. I would literally rather swallow pennies than kiss Principal Coleman’s bald-ass head, Steve.”

Steve takes a triumphant swig of beer. “So you’re saying you’ve got the hots for Benny the janitor.”

“No!” you insist through giggles. “I don’t. God, you’re gross. Can’t believe I’m being treated like this on your birthday.”

“Exactly! My birthday.”

He rolls onto his side in his deck chair and nearly faceplants on the cement. You reach out, reaction time delayed.

“Steve!” you yell. “Careful.”

“I am, I am,” he mumbles, and rights himself on the chair. “Jus’ wanna see you better.”

“I keep telling you you need glasses.”

“I do not,” he whines. “My vision’s ten outta ten. Could a guy who needs glasses do this?”

He crumples up a Twinkies wrapper and throws it towards the garbage. The wind picks up and sends the wrapped into the pool. 

“Shit,” he says.

You belly laugh in delight.

“Wait, wait, redo. Go fish it outta there.”

“Oh, as if. I’m not going in there. I told you you need glasses. Even Mother Nature agrees.”

"She does not. Mother Nature thinks I'm a doll."

You hum and close your eyes. Alcohol always makes you sleepy. 

The chair scrapes against the concrete. You hear a crinkle of a chip bag. Those are your only warning before you’re crushed by two hundred pounds of drunk boy. 

“Steve!” You wheeze, squirming as his hair tickles your face. “Get off!”

"’M sleepy,” he mumbles.

“Well, don't sleep on me, weirdo.”

“‘S cold.”

“You run, like, a hundred degrees, don’t lie.”

He lifts his head. “So you’re saying I’m hot?”

“I’m saying all that booze cooked your brain,” you reply sweetly.

“I’ve been wounded,” he moans and plops onto your shoulder.

“Ugh.” You resign to your fate and lean back. Steve’s not actually that heavy; even drunk, he has a lot of control over his weight and he’s situated himself so he isn’t crushing anything important. No, you squirm underneath him for a very different reason. 

“Steeeeve,” you whine. “You’re gonna squish me into a pancake.”

“Can’t believe no one else came.”

You still. Steve’s face remains buried in your shoulder. His body is beside yours, and he has an arm slung over your belly.

“I didn’t—didn’t want a party,” he continues. “I always throw parties. I thought I’d do somethin’ different. An’ none of them even wished me a happy birthday. ‘Cept you.”

You rest your hand on the back of his hair. It’s wind-blown and messy from the drinks, free of his heady hair gel. You’ve never loved it more.

“Did you tell them your birthday is today?” you ask gently, even though you know he did.

“Yeah,” he says. “Told all of ‘em. Guess they weren’t listening.”

“I listen.”

Steve looks up at you. His eyes are glassy.

“God, I miss you,” he says.

You feel the wall you’ve built this year crumble, just a little. 

“I’m right here, Steve.”

“I know but—been a jerk lately. I know I have. You’re my best friend, okay? Nothing’ll change that. I–I love you so much.”

Your breath hitches. Steve barrels on, not noticing.

“And I’ll be better. We’ll hang out more. Not–not here, drunk. But for real. We’ll go to the movies. Y’wanna see a movie?”

“Yeah,” you whisper. “I wanna see a movie.”

“‘Kay, what movie? Anything you want. We’ll get popcorn and Raisinets.”

“You hate Raisinets,” you choke through a watery laugh.

“I’d eat Raisinets anytime with you.”

You lay there, in the dark, the only sound being the pool filter.

“Let’s watch the new James Bond.”

“Hmm, okay. But you’ll have to say the name eventually.”

Your nose crinkles. “I am not calling it by its name.”

His laugh is warm in your neck. 

You don’t tell Steve to get up again. He snuggles into you, leg over yours. You fall asleep like that, curled underneath him.

Now

“Wait.” Max stops. “Shouldn’t we have, like, a game plan?”

“Game plan?” El asks quietly.

“Yeah. Some of us aren’t so great at playing it cool.”

She stares at Lucas.

“I play it cool!” he squawks. “I am so cool!”

“Right.”

“Just let Y/N do the talking,” Will says. “She’s technically the adult so she should act like this is a conscious choice.”

You shrug. “Makes sense to me.”

Dustin beams. “This is gonna be great!”

“Or a total disaster,” Max says.

You go to the counter, the kids trailing behind like ducklings.

“Six tickets for Prince of Darkness, please,” you say. “And uh, one for Dirty Dancing.”

The attendant looks at you, then at the kids.

“Don’t you mean seven tickets for Prince of Darkness?” she asks. “It’s rated R.”

Shit. “Right, yes. Sorry. Seven tickets. And one for Dirty Dancing. We have another friend who’s late.”

“Uh-huh.” 

The attendant, whose bored expression you’ve recognized on your own face after long days in the arcade, hands you your tickets without any questioning. 

“I think we’re in the clear,” Lucas whispers when you enter the concession area. 

You wait for them to buy their snacks. Max persuades Lucas to let her mix M&Ms into their bucket of popcorn. He agrees and shuffles closer so they’re pressed shoulder to shoulder while they share. 

“Okay, last stretch,” Mike says, shoveling a frighteningly large handful of sour worms into his mouth. “We just have to get past the ticket guy.”

Said ticket guy is a kid who can’t be much older than you. You think you might’ve gone to school together, but you’ve made it a point to eviscerate everything about high school from your mind.

“Hey,” you say, trying to act cool. Maybe you’re the one Max should’ve been worried about, instead of Lucas. “Uh, here are our tickets.”

He takes the tickets, then looks behind you.

“Prince of Darkness is only for people seventeen and older,” he says.

“I’m an adult, so I’m with them,” you explain. “I’m, like, their guardian?”

“Yeah, uh—” He hands you your tickets. “No can do. There needs to be an adult for each person under seventeen.”

“Come on,” you cajole. “They’re high schoolers. It’s not like they’re gonna be scarred for life watching some zombies, or whatever.”

He shrugs. “Rules are rules.”

“She’s an adult!” Dustin argues.

“Look, if you’re gonna hold up the line, I’m gonna have to—”

“Yo, Gillespie! That you?”

Dustin turns and lights up. The seven of you part for Steve Harrington and his date, a pretty strawberry blonde you think you had biology with.

“Harrington, man, what’s up!” 

Ticket Prick gets up to slam Steve into a bear hug. You barely resist an eye roll.

“Shit, I haven’t seen you in a year! Where’ve you been all this time? Hey, did you hear about that shit with Munson?”

Steve flinches. It’s a tiny movement, indiscernible to the trained eye. But it’s there all the same.

“Gillespie, c’mon. Don’t bring the party down with that,” Steve says, all sweet charm. 

“Sorry, sorry. Daisy,” he greets the girl attached to Steve’s arm.

“Gil,” she replies with a giggle. “You smell like popcorn butter.”

America’s future taxpayers. Terrifying. 

“Are you gonna let us in or not?” Max interrupts, arms folded. 

You feel a burst of pride.

Gil shoots her a dirty glare and puffs up, ready to fight a fourteen year old. Steve cuts in smoothly.

“Gillespie, listen. I know her.” He points to you. You bristle. “I can personally vouch that she’s just trying to do right by these kids. They wanted to see Prince of Darkness, y’know? Get away from the parents.”

“It’s a sick film,” Gil agrees. “You seen it?”

No, of course Steve hadn’t seen it. He hates horror. 

“Planning on it,” Steve says, the ultimate image of playing it cool. “Look, you remember sneaking into the movies. Fast Times? Ring any bells?”

Max rolls her eyes. You’re inclined to do the same.

Gil laughs dopily, and nudges Steve. “Hell yeah, I do. That was a crazy night, Harrington.”

Steve smiles thinly. “Sure was. So whaddya say? For old times’ sake?”

Gil considers your little troupe. Then he shrugs.

“Why not. Manager’s not here anyway.”

He takes the tickets and tears them to stubs, then gives them back.

“Theater six. On your left. Enjoy.”

The kids stampede into the left theater wing. You hang back with your own ticket. 

“Appreciate it, man,” Steve says, all smiles. “Take care, alright?”

“Hey, you too, Harrington! We gotta catch up!”

Steve and Daisy go in. You expect them to walk right past you, and Daisy does, predictably. But Steve stops.

“I’ll catch up, okay?” he tells her. “Find us some good seats?”

She paws at him a little, then goes, sodas in hand. You stiffen as Steve walks and stops three feet away from you. 

“Hey,” he says. “Sorry about that. Gil’s an asshole.”

“I know. He yawned during my poetry reading sophomore year. And then you guys went to the movies together.”

Steve shrinks. “Your poems were great.”

You’re suddenly exhausted.

“What do you want, Steve?”

“I just… I wanted to see you. Say hi.”

“Okay.” You cross your arms. “Hi.”

“You forgot your movie,” he says. “The other day.”

“I didn’t want it that much.”

“Dustin said you looked everywhere for it.”

“Well, in the end, it didn’t really matter,” you say. “Not enough to stay.”

“Y/N—”

“I think your date’s waiting for you,” you interrupt. “Better get back to her. Wouldn’t want to taint your reputation.”

Steve makes a noise like he’s been wounded. You turn on your heel before you can think better of it. 

“Wait.” He catches your wrist. Steve’s grip is light, like you’re something precious to hold. You wrench your arm away. “Y/N, I want to apologize. I’m sorry.”

“For what?” you ask. “For forgetting me? I didn’t expect you to remember, Steve.”

“I didn’t forget you,” he insists. “I could never forget you. I wasn’t—please, can I just explain?”

“I don’t need your explanations,” you snap. The hurt corrodes your tongue like acid. “I know what happened. We were both there. You left.”

Steve’s eyes are huge and dark. He looks like you just stabbed him in the heart, and that makes you feel worse. You’d thought telling him how much it hurts would put you back together, but all it did was break you more.

So you run. Again. 

You slam through a back exit and rip your ticket into a million pieces. The wind is cold and unforgiving. Your eyes sting. 

You call out sick for two days in a row. You kind of expect to get fired, but then again, people have been leaving Hawkins and if you’re not here to serve the masses their slushies, who will be?

So, after lying in bed not thinking about movies and strawberry blonde girls and how sick you are of this town, you get up and put on your arcade vest.

Now it is two in the afternoon. You’d heard it was supposed to snow today.

Robin eyes the snack counter like it holds the next plague outbreak. You don't blame her; you make it a point to wash up to your elbows after work.

"Slushie?"

She looks at you like she’d forgotten you were there. "What?"

You point a thumb at the machine. "Are you here for a slushie?"

"Oh. No, sorry. Red dye makes me insane in the brain. Steve actually—"

Robin stops, grimaces. So he's told her. Probably everything, if the kids had been telling the truth. 

You're honestly surprised she's here. Unless it’s to, like, swirlie you in the vat of artificial cheese. 

"Are you here to drown me in nacho cheese?" you ask.

Robin's eyes go wide as dinner plates. "What? No!"

"Just checking." You lean against the counter. "What can I do for you, Robin?" 

Robin suddenly looks like she's never interacted with a human being before. You like her a lot. Steve probably does too. 

"I came to drop off your movie." She holds the tape over the counter like it's a pool of lava. 

"But I didn't pay for it." You shove your hand in your jean pocket; you only have a couple dollars on you. "I guess I can get you the money tom—"

"It's on the house. For a fellow Molly fan."

Robin wiggles the tape with two fingers. You take it and wait for a catch. There is none. 

"Thank you," you say. "You didn't have to do that."

"Actually, it wasn't me," she confesses. "I'm just the mailman."

You prepare to hand it back but Robin shakes her head. 

"He's not going to pop out of the slushie machine, okay? He's just trying to make it up to you."

"He doesn't need to make it up to me," you bite, except those aren’t the words you mean. "Why does he even care? We're not in high school anymore."

Robin smiles a sad smile. 

"I know," she says. "We’re not. I know he should've known to fix things earlier. He's received a lot of blows to the head, though, so he's still catching up."

The thought turns your stomach. More? More you weren’t there to protect him from?

"He doesn't owe me anything," you say and wave the tape again. "You can take it back and leave it for somebody else."

"Y/N, I know we don't know each other, like, at all. But it's important to me you know that Steve cares about you, because you’re important to him. And you knew him way before I did, and you probably know a lot of stuff I don't, and that's good because he has a friend like me, but he should also have a friend like you too, Y/N."

"I don't want to be his friend," you mumble. 

"Yeah," Robin says. "I figured. But I don't think that's a confession he should hear secondhand."

You look at her, stunned. She's such a clever girl. You hope she treats Steve well.

"If you two are—"

"We're not," she says, like this is a regular explanation she goes through. "Steve and I are friends. Steve has crashed and burned with every single date since his fall from regency. Steve is the best person I've ever met." 

"Yeah, I’ve heard. You and Dustin are his biggest fans."

Robin snorts. "Trust me, I'm not proud of it."

You shake your head. Your eyes feel hot. 

"This town is so shit," you say. 

"Yeah," Robin agrees. "It really fucking is. But I'm not asking you to give this town a second chance. Just him."

"Why are you trying so much?" you ask. "You don't even know me."

Robin shrugs. "No, but you're the one person Steve used to be friends with who's not an asshole, and I think us non-assholes need to band together."

"I can sometimes be an asshole."

"Me too. So are those little dweebs. How about calling ourselves the Semi-Assholes Club?" 

You laugh. "We'll get jackets."

"With partially drawn butts on the backs," Robin says with a giggle. 

You look at the tape in your hand. 

"Does Steve like John Hughes?" 

"He does. He's a total sap for those. He thinks he's in his own coming-of-age movie because he's delusional."

He sounds perfect. He sounds like the friend you loved. 

"I did want to watch this one," you say. 

"It won't hurt you to," Robin promises. 

You suppose not.

December 1984

You don't believe the whispers. All week, the rumor mill spins tales of Billy Hargrove finally pushing the King off his throne. There's no way he'll show his face, a girl at the adjacent lunch table astutes. I sure as fuck wouldn't.

Steve Harrington is a loser. Steve Harrington got dumped for Jonathan Byers. Steve Harrington may as well be dead, and on and on. 

Every line gets you angrier. A boy who sits behind you in chemistry taps his pencil like he always does. Tap, tap, tap. 

Halfway through class, you snap at him to quit it. He does, but not without a tinge of embarrassment. You’re so angry this year. Angry at your loneliness, angry at the unfairness of said loneliness. You might’ve done this to yourself, and that fact only gets you angrier.

You see Nancy Wheeler in the hallways with Jonathan Byers, and the confirmation of that rumor should make you happy. It doesn't. 

A week later, most of the excitement has died down. Everybody’s moved onto the next big thing, which is to deduce who fucked in Vice Principal White's office. One look at V.P. White, and it had been decided that it can't have been White himself. 

You can't care less. Once upon a time you might’ve laughed about it with a friend, but you don't have any more of those, and high school is bullshit with or without them. So.

Steve walks in twenty five minutes into the period. Mrs. Kaplan gives him a downright beastly glare and demands to know where he had been. 

"I'm sorry," is all he says. "If you give me detention, I understand."

There are a few snickers that rub at an old hurt, one that had flared up whenever somebody dared to make fun of your best friend. It doesn't bother me, he'd said, and you'd known it was a lie. 

It bothers me, you’d replied, and Steve had hugged you tight.

Mrs. Kaplan seems more stunned Steve hadn't swaggered past her like a peacock escaped from the zoo and lets him go sit down without a fight. He takes the only empty desk, two rows across from you. You stare. You can't not. 

Half of his face looks like it was mashed in a garbage disposal. It's purple and a sickly yellow. His eye and lip are still swollen. You stare and stare. You feel queasy. 

Billy had done that. You're so angry. You think you might never get past this grief, this loss of a once permanent fixture in your life. 

No one wished Steve a happy birthday this year, you realize out of nowhere.

You stare and stare and stare until Steve looks right back. You're blindsided by thick guilt, like blinking through a milkshake. And then the familiar curl of anger returns because why the fuck should you feel guilty? You aren't the one who fucked everything up, who mascerated this good thing. Steve did this to himself. Steve deserves to walk the halls alone. It's Steve's fault. 

But when you look at him, at his raw wounds, at his bruised knuckles, you know that he already believes he deserves every punch Billy Hargrove gave him. 

You hate Steve Harrington. But you really wish you'd been there to drive him to the hospital. 

Now (And Forever)

The tape sits buried in your drawer for three days. You don’t know what Family Video’s return policy is, but you hope you’re not racking up late fees. You doubt name dropping Dustin will work again.

It’s Saturday when you decide to watch Pretty in Pink. You remove the video from its sleeve. An envelope falls out.

The front has your name printed in squished, loopy script. You remember January at Steve’s house, a stack of thank-you cards courtesy of his mother awaiting the Harringtons’ sign-off. Steve’s hand would cramp and you’d take over while he made grilled cheese for the both of you. Love, The Harringtons, and there was no love in that house, but you think maybe Steve loved enough to make up for it. 

Hi, the letter begins. I hope you’re good. Robin told me you’re going to Hawkins State.

That’s fucking amazing. I’m so proud of you. Are you still writing poetry? I liked that one you wrote about the birds who shared a branch and kept each other warm. I still have it in my notebook in my room.

I’m sorry for the other night. I’m sorry for every night since freshman year, honestly. I’m kind of a dumbass, but you know that, so it doesn’t really excuse anything. I think I’ve actually lost brain cells since we drifted apart.

You crumple the corner, suddenly hot with anger. Who keeps telling him he’s dumb? You want names.

I didn’t forget you, you know. I got scared and I thought maybe I could ease into it, but then you recognized me and… well. I don’t blame you for running.

Anyway. I’m talking too much about myself, when there’s nothing to say. I’m really sorry about what I did, or, actually, what I didn’t do. Somebody told me I was living on autopilot, and that it wasn’t really living at all. I think it was you. 

I’m not living on autopilot anymore. I woke up. And I realized that you’re the best fucking thing that’s ever happened to me. I love Robin and the kids and this little family that has apparently invayd invaded your life too. Sorry about that. They never leave and they eat all your food. Good luck. 

But I miss you. I always have.

Shit happened these last few years that I’ll tell you about one day, if you want. I’d rather not, though, because you’ve always been the paranoiac (like that one? Robin said it’s an SAT word) of the two of us and I feel like this would just make you even more of one. But I will tell you, if you want to hear it. I want to tell you everything. I want you to tell me everything too. Like we used to.

I want you to tell me how college is going. Who the annoying jerks in your classes are so I can go beat them up (kidding). I want you to stop by to rent movies so I can lend them for free and you’ll yell at me about taking advantage of fre friendships. 

Fuck, I miss you. It’s always been there, bubbling below the surface. I never stopped missing you. I never stopped loving you. I’m sorry I didn’t write this sooner. I know you said writing is how we express things we can’t say. You were right. You always are. Can’t believe I forgot that. 

It’s okay if you don’t want to be friends. I mean, it hurts, but I respect it. I understand. Most days, I can’t believe people can bear to be around me. But then I hear your voice in my head, telling me that most people are shitheads and that I’m golden and. Well, I don’t know if I believe that, but you were right that most of the people I surrounded myself with were shitheads. Except you, of course. And then I went ahead and fucked that up.

I’ve been working on finding the non-shitheads of the world. I think I’m doing pretty well. And I wrote this because I realized that while I will probably end up buried in this fucking town, you’re going to do something incredible. And nothing incredible ever happens in Hawkins, so I figure you’ll be far away when you do it. 

I didn’t want to miss this chance to write things I never said. So here they are. And you can do whatever you want with them. You’ve always been the best of the two of us. I trust you.

You should watch Dirty Dancing. You’ll like it. I did. I’ll see it again if you want. I’ll watch anything with you.

Did you know there’s another Bond movie coming out in the summer? We could watch that one together too. If you wanted more time to decide.

Sincer

Lo

Your friend,

Steve

You don’t bother ejecting the tape. You run all the way to the bus stop, Steve’s letter in hand. 

You have to see him. No other thoughts register except that one. You have to know if Steve wrote these words because he can’t say them or because you won’t listen.

It isn’t too late when you get to Loch Nora. The neighborhood is dead, which is weird. Steve’s house looks frozen in time: his parents’ car isn’t in the driveway. You wonder if they’ve ever come back since you’ve been gone. You wouldn't be surprised if the answer is no.

There’s a tarp over the pool. The gate is locked with a chain. You can’t sneak in through the fence like you used to. Not that you would. You don’t think strangers can sneak through pool gates.

You knock on the door three times. And wait.

Steve’s car is in the driveway, a duller burgundy than when he first got it. There are a few scratches in the paint. No longer a prized possession. Maybe well-loved instead.

The door swings open. 

Steve says your name like a prayer. You swallow and steel your spine. 

“I got your letter,” you say.

“Oh.” He rubs the back of his neck. His hair is damp like he’s just showered. It curls around his ears. Waves of want hit you. 

“I don’t want to be friends,” you continue before he can speak. “I don’t—I can’t do that again.”

Steve’s mouth draws into the saddest frown you’ve ever seen.

“Okay,” he says softly. “Thank you for telling me.”

“No.” You shake your head. “No, that’s not—I don’t mean it like that.”

His brows knit. “What?”

“I…” You pull out the letter and wave it. “Did you mean it? Do you love me?”

“Yes,” Steve whispers. It’s like a shout in the quiet street. “I meant it.”

“Like a friend?”

“If that’s what you want.”

“Will you love me like a friend forever?” you ask. 

“Always.” 

You squeeze your eyes shut.

“I love you as something more,” you blurt, watery. “I have for a long time.”

You hear the door shut. This is it: your heart on the line, all for nothing—

“Then I’ll love you as something more back,” Steve says. “I’ll love you any way you want me to.”

And he holds you the way you’d held him so many times. You inhale and wrap your arms around his neck. You’ve got an iron grip around the letter. Tears slip down your cheeks.

“I missed you,” you confess.

Steve nods against your shoulder.

“Yeah,” he says, and it sounds a little wet. “I missed you too.”

“You were wrong,” you say into his neck.

“Hmm?”

You pull back to look at Steve.

“Incredible things do happen in Hawkins.”

“Oh, yeah?” Steve smiles, cheeks blotchy. “Like what?”

“We found each other again.”

[justheblueberry]

handbinding of A Study in Scarlette by kittebasu

There are people who want to live forever, and then there is Shinichi, who just wants to live a little longer than this.

this bind has been in my head since i first read the fic like, three years ago. i dreamed up so many ideas for it, for so long, and now it's finally done! the typeset was actually done in early 2022, back when i was still using google docs, but it went through a few iterations because i was just. so. fiddly. with every aspect of this book. it needed to be perfect (as close to perfect as i, an amateur bookbinder out of my depth, can get) and it had to be absolutely over the top, to reflect the insane amount of love and care that the author put into the fic itself.

the first time i read this fic, i barely knew what detective conan was, much less all of the intricate plot details; i was just along for the ride, but by the end i was completely invested. i went back and watched through the anime as well as a few movies (it took me six months) and then read the fic again. and then a few more times. kaishin and the world of dcmk has utterly gripped me. it's 100% this fic's fault and i love it so, so, much.

i went through a few iterations of visual designs and i'm really happy with the little details i managed to squeeze in.

the entire color scheme is based around red, because 1) it's a murder mystery, 2) for scarlette shinamoto (and the title of the fic as well as the original holmes novel it references), and 3) the irony of "lady red" actually being red. the secret fourth reason is that i think red/gold is a super sexy color combo.

i sewed the textblock with red thread to reference holmes' "scarlet thread of murder".

another detail i love is the five yen coin bookmark, it was one of my first ideas and it turned out even better than i thought.

i wanted the endpapers to evoke a sense of the white marbled floor of the ballroom, with the glow-in-the-dark kaitou kid caricature being the luminol on the floor, and the little pops of red looks like blood that's been mixed in. i lucked out in that the other side of the endpaper was like a lavender-purpley color, i like to think of it as a little wink wink nudge to the color of the actual Lady Red.

the chapter pages got a few reworkings, but i'm happy with the illustrations i ended up doing for each of them. the chapter titles are one of my favorite things about the fic, each one has so much meaning packed into it and flows so beautifully, and i wanted to put as much care into making them pop as possible.

the cover was a linocut carving i designed and carved, which i then printed onto the bookcloth, and ironed on htv on top.

i also threw in a couple of my drawings of my favorite scenes.

this is getting way too long, so i'll end it here. i'll have a separate post detailing the process every step of the way, if anyone wants to take a closer look. this fic is kind of directly responsible for getting me into fanbinding, so it's safe to say it altered the course of my life. i now spend way too much time (and money) looking at book stuff.

kittebasu, if, somehow, you see this and would like an author copy, i would be honored to make one and ship it to you; i would be overjoyed to gift you with any art i have the ability to make, because the fics you wrote have irreversibly altered my brain chemistry, and being able to give back in any capacity would be a dream. (thank you.)

a few postscripts:

i am not selling any copies of this fic. partially because i believe in the gift economy of fandom as well as firmly keeping fanbinding a hobby that will stay unmonetized, but also because it took me months (years, if we are counting when i first finished the typeset) to finish this and i do not have the strength.

however, if you are also a fan of this fic and would like a copy, i honestly, fervently, encourage you to give fanbinding a try! renegade publishing and its discord server are an absolutely wonderful and free resource. i knew nothing about bookbinding and had zero materials when i first started, but i've learned so much thanks to the lovely people there. if you're still apprehensive about getting started, i'd be willing to share my typeset of this fic as well as answer any questions about the making of this book if you DM me.

[wileys-russo]

please can you write a little fic about Leah’s beanie in her most recent insta post, like her gf thinking she looks cute and making her post a pic or taking the piss out of Leah for posting a pic in the beanie x

garden gnome II l.williamson

"god its fucking freezing!" you shivered, subbed off with ten minutes to go as your body finally cooled down from all the running, the brisk london air sharp as needles as the wind blew on and you collapsed onto the subs bench.

"thank you less." you sighed in relief as alessia handed you your puffer, the blonde sending you a smile as the two of you leaned into one another a little more to stay warm, lia joining in on your other side.

all three of you jumped to your feet buzzing with new energy as the whistle finally blew announcing your victory. "steffyyy!" you cheered loudly, jumping on the older girls back who stumbled but let out a laugh as you kissed her cheek and hopped down.

"if you play like that with jet lag we're sending you back to melbourne for the week." you teased as she hugged you properly. "puddin points are best cooked under pressure." caitlin flung an arm over your shoulder with a grin as she and steph high fived.

you were flanked by lotte, vic and alessia as you did your thank you lap, clapping to the fans as you caught your girlfriends eye in the stands, clapping up at her making her roll her eyes with a smile as she chatted away to ellie who gave you a wave.

"lovesick much." alessia teased, bumping her shoulder into yours as vic echoed her word making you stick your tongue out at them. "look at her all bundled up and in her little beanie, she's so cute i just wanna go and give her a cuddle." you sighed still looking up at her.

"oi! jealous much?" you pushed vic who gagged at your words, the force of your push sending her tumbling onto her bum as she glared up at you. "run." alessia patted your shoulder as you took off, a string of angry dutch following you as the two of you raced in laps around the pitch until she caught you and punched you sharply in the arm, the team all called in for a huddle.

"hello gorgeous." a pair of arms tightly wound round you from behind as you settled happily into the extra warmth, tilting your head back and smiling up at the older blonde. she stayed holding onto you as you all bunched up for the post match talk, her hands only moving to clap loudly as jonas finished up talking.

"mum wants to see you." leah mumbled with a kiss to your cheek, nodding for you follow her as you both made your way into the fast clearing stands. "amanda!" you grinned as the woman pulled you into a tight hug. "love you played brilliantly! even if leah wouldn't shut up with her personal coaching the entire match." she rolled her eyes as leah protested the accusation.

"oh i've no doubt once we're home i'll get the full debrief on everything i could have done better. gaffa williamson loves to come out after a win!" you teased, leah pinching your sides with a stern look as you only smiled, pecking her lips.

"try raising her, every single little thing gets feedback even if you don't ask for it. for someone who can't cook god she just loves to critisise everyone else who can!" amanda added on with a dramatic sigh.

"yeah i bought the wrong brand of ham the other week. should have heard how she moaned about it for days!" "used to yell directions at me and scream for me to go faster when i drove her to training every week, as if i didn't drive her there every week."

"right fuck off what is it pick on leah day! i'm injured here thanks how bout a bit of sympathy?" your girlfriend huffed, crossing her arms with a scowl. "oh sorry baby i forgot how sensitive you are. is everyone being mean to you?" you continued to tease, pinching her cheeks in your hands as amanda watched on fondly.

"you look so cute in your beanie lee lee, my little garden gnome." you cooed mockingly, smooshing her face in your hands as her eyes burned into you with a murderous glare. "gnome-o and juliet eh?" amanda grinned making you high five her with a cheer.

"mum! god don't fucking don't encourage her she's relentless." leah groaned, pulling you into a headlock as you smacked her stomach through the three layers she was bundled in. "you love it." she let you up and pulled you into a tight hug, her arms curled around your neck and resting on your shoulders as the two of you chatted with her mum for a bit.

"oh i need a photo before i go! to mark the win." amanda was about to leave as she perked up, pulling out her phone as she tucked herself in beside you, leahs chin resting on the top of your head as the three of you smiled happily and amanda took a few selfies.

"beautiful. i'll see you both round for dinner yeah?" she reminded firmly as you nodded. "yeah we'll be round after five mum, i'll pick grandma up on the way." leah confirmed as amanda beamed, hugging you both goodbye as the three of you descended from the stands.

you and leah hung around for another half hour chatting with your team mates, cuddled into one another the entire time as you battled the ongoing teasing from your team mates, both claiming you were just keeping one another warm.

"what are you doing now?" leah sighed as you both made her way toward her car and you dropped her hand, pulling out your phone and ordering her to pose.

"capturing the memory. i'm gonna start a little garden gnome scrapbook of all your beanie pictures, this ones disappointingly not as pointy as normal but you still look adorable." you beamed snapping a few photos of her as you reached her car, the back lot where the players parked basically almost empty.

"leah!" you laughed as she huffed and yanked off her beanie, hair tied back into a low and loose bun as she pulled her hood up and advanced on you. "hi baby." you grinned as she pushed you against the side of her car, smile tugging at her lips as her arms caged you in.

"lee!" you laughed again as she tugged her beanie down over your head, covering your eyes and attacking your face with kisses as she held the material down on your head and you struggled to push her away.

"whose the little garden gnome now?" leah sung out, flipping up the edge of the beanie so your eyes were free to meet hers, the blonde giving you a dazzlingly bright smile. "still you, you've got the pointy cone head not me." you shrugged, tapping on the top of her head as her mouth formed a small o of offence.

"what am i going to do with you?" leah tutted, shaking her head with a sigh. "kiss me and never stop." you whispered, hands grabbing the sides of her hood and pulling her mouth to meet yours. though before anything got carried away she gently intertwined your hands and pulled away.

"oh just you wait till we get home cheeky girl."

[skz317cb97]

The Club

Bang Chan x Thick female reader

Word count: 6.3K

Synopsis: Friends to lovers such a cute trope... in theory. You go to the club with your two best friends and the clueless man you love, your roommate Chan. Will you be able to stand watching him hook up with yet another flawless girl that you could never compare to or are you finally at the end of your rope.

A/N: 18+ ONLY! I don't know where this came from I just knew I wanted to do another thick reader fic. I honestly pulled it from my ass which I guess is what all writing is really. ANYWAY! I hope you enjoy and if you do please reblog, comment, like, send an ask whatever I love to hear from you guys. As always warnings and smut below the cut!

Warnings: Body image issues, cussing/strong language, unprotected piv intercourse (please use protection), cream pie, crying after sex. I think that's all, this one is fairly tame. If I missed something please let me know and I'll add it to the warnings asap!

Your best friend and roommate Chan knocked on your bedroom door and then walked into your room a second after, a typical move on his part.  

“Come right in why don’t ya.” You scoffed. Chan flashed his megawatt smile that you failed to see since you were laying on your bed face down after having the worst week of your life. He picked up one of your throw pillows and flung it at your head. 

“Hey wake up! Minho and Jisung called, we’re going to the club tonight so get ready!” You rolled over looking at the ceiling and pushed the pillow Chan threw on the floor instead of flinging it back towards him, he frowned a little. 

“Pass. You guys go without me.” The last thing you wanted to do was go and watch your three pretty best friends get hit on while you sat at a booth drowning your loneliness in whatever you felt like shooting back. It always happened and of course it did. They were three attractive men that could dance, they were articulate and kind as well. So they had their pick of the women whenever you all went out to the clubs. The club experience was not the same for you.  

You were bigger than most if not all the other girls at the club and your dancing was mediocre at best. Most of the time you would dance for a bit with the guys and eventually, one by one, they would break off with whatever girl rubbed against them. Then you would make your way to a booth and be there for the remainder of the night. No one ever approached you except your friends who would regularly check up on you, sit for a bit, maybe order a drink, then back out on the dance floor. You were sure it was a great time for them and usually it didn’t bother you that much but after your day, your week, you didn’t have the energy. Chan was persistent and wasn’t having it though. 

“What?! No no way we’re not going without you, we all always go together.” He grabbed you by your hands and you wished it didn’t make your heart race. Chan pulled you until you were sitting up. 

“So get. Dressed.” You rolled your eyes and pulled your hands away. 

“I said no Chan.” He rolled his eyes right back. 

“Give me one good reason why?” He crossed his arms in front of him and you let out a huff of frustrated air. A good reason why? Because you’d had a horrible week and you didn’t want to watch Chan rubbing against and kissing another perfect girl that he would bring home and you would ultimately have to listen to the soft moans and panting of a stunning girl you could only ever wish to be. You couldn’t say that to him though, so you sat there quietly. 

“See you don’t have one. Minho and Jisung will be here in forty-five. Get. Ready!” He spun around and left your room before you could argue more. So this would be your night, again. You just hoped your stupid heart could take it. Sure, being in love with your best friend and roommate is such a cute cliché trope until you’re living it, then its agony. You got up and started getting ready and by ready, you changed out of your work clothes into street clothes. You didn’t try, you just didn’t feel like faking it. So a basic pair of jeans, a tshirt, some converse, and your hair up in a ponytail was your attire for the evening. 

Chan thought he was going to have to drag you from your room by force but when Minho and Jisung showed up you walked out dressed and ready. Naturally since Minho and Jisung were your two only other friends they knew you had feelings for Chan. Not because you ever told them, nor would you admit it when Minho would allude to it. Minho just wasn’t an idiot and had eyes and Jisung... well Minho told him everything. Jisung was skeptical still. As soon as you walked out Minho knew something was off. You weren’t your normal glow-y self. He made fun of you constantly calling you concentrated sunshine because you just had this glow about you that made others around you smile and even though he teased you for it he found it endearing and a wonderful quality to have in a friend but that night he didn’t see it. He walked up to you. 

“You feeling okay?” You nodded. 

“Yea sure like a million dollars.” You deadpanned and went to walk past him to follow Jisung and Chan out the door but he stopped you. 

“Hey...” You looked at him and your eyes just looked empty. 

“You sure you should be going out?” You took a deep breath and tried to get a grip. 

“I’m okay Min really, let's just go please?” He was concerned but he wasn’t going to push you, not tonight at least. He grabbed your hand and you both headed out the door with your friends. 

Once you all arrived at the club the guys migrated towards the dance floor like you all always did, dance, then drink. You broke off and made your way over to the bar quietly. When Minho turned to make sure you were still right behind him, he didn’t see you anywhere. Chan already had a gorgeous girl in a silver sling of a club dress shaking her ass and backing it up on him and Jisung was just dancing with the mass of people. Minho couldn’t just dance and have carefree fun knowing you weren’t, he walked over to Chan and his ‘dance partner’. 

“Hey, did you see where y/n went off to? She was right behind me then gone.” Minho yelled over the music. 

“Probably getting a drink she’s been in a mood today I don’t know why.” Minho watched the girl grind her ass against Chan’s crotch and Chan’s hand slid across her backside as he moved his hips with her. Minho rolled his eyes, of course he didn’t know why. 

“You're my best friend but you’re an idiot sometimes...” Minho mumbled. 

“Huh?” Chan couldn’t hear him over the music, Minho raised his voice over it again. 

“I said I’m gonna check by the bar.” Chan nodded and waved at Minho as he made his way towards the bar rail. You had initially been at the bar but as soon as you had a drink you made your way over to one of the tables you would sit at usually. When Minho didn’t find you at the bar he knew he’d find you there. He slid in next to you at the booth you’d chosen for the night. You downed the rest of your glass and he looked at you. 

“How many is that?” You looked at him blankly. 

“Does it matter?” He arched one of his perfectly shaped eyebrows at you and narrowed his eyes. You sighed. 

“It’s only my first calm down officer.” Minho nodded. 

“Come, dance with me.” 

“Pass.” Minho grabbed you by the hand and pulled you. 

“I don’t think that was a request. Dancing, now.” You got up because at least you could get another drink in the process. Minho guided you towards the dance floor and started moving his body to the beat, you bobbed back and forth half-heartedly. By the second song Minho had gotten you to lighten up a bit, it helped that Jisung had joined you both and you had your friends near you. Well not all of them. You had been watching your feet or looking at Minho so you could read his lips when he spoke to you. Then you scanned the mass of people dancing and your eyes landed right on Chan and the silver dress girl making out and dancing, Chan’s hand gripping her ass as she giggled and he kissed her neck, their sweaty body’s moving in tandem with each other. Your face fell as your heart shattered into a million pieces. Minho could see it happening in your eyes. He scanned your line of sight and saw Chan and the girl. Before Minho could say anything, you excused yourself. 

“I think I’m gonna be sick.” You pried your way through the people on the dance floor trying to get out of there and into the fresh air, you needed air. Jisung was confused when you dashed off and Minho just raised his hand as he followed you. 

“Just... stay here I’ve got her.” Minho cut through the crowd right behind you. You burst out the club door and into the cool night, taking gasps of air trying to will any and everything in your stomach to stay put. Minho popped out a second later and almost bumped right into you. 

“Hey, look... you know... about Ch-” You cut Minho off. 

“It was just hot I needed some air.” Minho rolled his eyes at you. 

“y/n I know-” You cut him off more forcefully, tears slightly collecting in the corners of your eyes. 

“I was hot Minho!” He stopped, pushing you would do no good and he didn’t want to upset you more than you already were. You sniffled a bit and pushed the tears back down. 

“I’ll be back inside in a minute.” He looked at you unable to hide the concern on his face. 

“Promise.” You said. He accepted that and headed back inside. You got yourself together outside and made your way back into the club a few minutes after Minho. You walked up to the bar, you promised Minho you’d come back inside, you didn’t say you wouldn’t drink. You were done dancing for the night you were ready to drink and forget. Forget the image of Chan and some gorgeous girl dry humping on the dance floor that was burned into your mind. You got your drink, several in fact, and made your way to your table again. Your drink of choice? Instant amnesia, tequila shots. Shortly after shot number six? Seven? Who cared. Shortly after you knocked back yet another shot Minho, Jisung, and Chan all crowded the table, the beautiful girl in the silver dress glued to Chan’s side. Minho snatched the empty shot glass out of your hand frustrated. 

“Did you drink all these?” He motioned at the slew of empty shot glasses in front of you. You just nodded and Minho sighed and looked over at Jisung who looked concerned but unsure how to help. The girl whispered something in Chan’s ear and he nodded laughing making Minho look over at him. Chan raised his eyebrows. 

“What?” Minho shook his head and motioned towards you. 

“Do you maybe wanna try and help me here?” Chan held up one finger to the girl. He slid into the booth seat next to you and she sat on the edge right by him. 

“What’s up?” He nudged you and you shook your head. 

“Why is everyone acting like this isn’t what we do every time we’re at the club? I drink and you guys...” You lifted your head enough to look over at the girl next to Chan. 

“do you. Just leave me alone.” Chan didn’t get why you were acting like this. So you had a bad week at work, you didn’t usually take that out on them and you definitely were never so short with them. 

“What’s your problem tonight?” You narrowed your eyes at him and then dropped your head back down. 

“Just leave me alone, I’m always alone anyway just...” Chan got a look on his face like the lightbulb just went off. So that was it you were upset no guys were approaching you. When Minho saw that look on Chan’s face he was almost certain it was the wrong lightbulb going off and braced for grade A Chan foot in mouth material.  

“Well of course, you’re dressed as frumpy as your attitude.” You looked at him with your jaw dropped as tears instantly pricked your eyes. Minho literally face palmed and even Jisung thought that was way harsh to say. Chan realized it was too far the moment it left his mouth. 

“Move and let me out.” You said quietly but sternly. The girl stood while Chan put his hands up and didn’t budge. 

“Wait...” You looked him right in the endless pools of brown you usually adored as your tears threatened to fall. It wasn’t even just that he’d said it but to say it in front of that beautiful girl, it tore your guts out. 

“Bang Christopher Chan move, or I will scream.” You took a deep breath preparing to scream as loud as you could, a tear slipping down your cheek and he quickly got up. You pulled yourself out of the booth and walked away without a word as they all watched. 

“Wow Chan of all the bone head things to say... I didn’t think you could say something so heartless, especially to y/n.” Before Chan could say anything Minho took off after you. You were drunk and crying against a brick wall when he found you. He promised not to ask or say anything, he just wanted to make sure you got home safe. He put his arm around you and walked you back to your apartment. Back in the club Jisung and Chan stood there in shock for a second. Neither of them had ever seen you like that before, then Jisung turned to Chan and gave him an angry look. 

“I know I know I feel like shit I’ll go apologize to her.” Chan turned to the girl that had been his dance partner and then some for the night. 

“Uhh sorry I’ve... I’ve gotta fix this, she’s my best friend.” She looked irritated but nodded and left for the dance floor again. Jisung suggested taking the long way back to your place to give you a little time to cool down and Chan decided that was probably a good idea. By the time you and Minho got to your place you had stopped crying. He led you to your room where he helped you take off your shoes and get into bed, you threw the cover back and peeled off your jeans leaving you in your panties before laying back. Minho’s face turned a little red and he looked away until you were covered again. He grabbed you a bottle of water and dragged your trash can by your bed in case you had to vomit. He went to leave your room and let you get some sleep but your voice came out tiny and shaky and it stopped him. 

“He doesn’t love me.” Minho turned. 

“Who?” He asked although he knew. 

“Chan.” It was the first time you’d ever admitted out loud to him that you were in love with Chan. Minho knew Chan was oblivious to it and he knew Chan loved you; they all did, but he really didn’t know if Chan was in love with you. 

“I don’t know, try not to think about it right now, okay? Get some rest.” You curled up and turned towards Minho. 

“Min?” He hummed smiling softly at you, he hated seeing that spark in your eye smothered by your tears. 

“Nothing.” He nodded. 

“Good night y/n. Sleep well.” He pulled your bedroom door closed and locked up on his way out. On Minho’s way home he ran into Jisung and Chan who had taken the long way so were walking from the opposite direction. Chan jogged up to him quickly. 

“Did you find her? Is she okay?” Minho nodded. 

“Yea I found her. She’s home, she’s in bed now.” Chan sighed in relief.  

“Thanks Min. I’ll make it right.” Minho nodded 

“I sure hope so.” Then Minho and Jisung headed towards their own apartment. When Chan got home he made sure to quietly unlock the front door. When he turned to go down the hall towards your rooms there you were in your tshirt and panties braced against the wall trying to get to the bathroom to brush the taste of tequila out of your mouth. If you weren’t still drunk you would have been mortified to be standing in front of Chan in your panties. 

“Oh hey, Minho said you were asleep already.” You shrugged. 

“Sorry to disappoint you but I’ll be sure to put earbuds in so you and your slumber party pal can be as loud as you want.” Chan’s brow furrowed in confusion. 

“Slumber party pal?” You pushed your fingers into your eyes and fought the migraine that was starting to form. You tried to walk into the bathroom and he stopped you. 

“Wait. What are you talking about? Do you mean the girl from the club?” What did that have to do with it. Chan was confused. 

“Yes the girl who’s attitude and certainly her dress were far from frumpy.” You could feel tears starting to form in your eyes again. You’d hoped you’d cried all you had in you. Chan felt the slap to the face your words were meant to carry. 

“y/n I shouldn’t have...” You cut him off angry. 

“You think I don’t know what you mean when you say that?!” Chan shook his head he didn’t understand, what he meant? 

“That I’m fat! I’m fat and not pretty! I’m fat and why would anyone approach someone like me! That I wasn’t her! You don’t think I know it already?! I see the way you look at her and I see the way you look at me and I know!” You looked down crying and realized you were standing there like a fool with no pants on. You ran to your room and slammed the door grabbing sweats and pulling them on before crawling into your bed hopeful that it would swallow you and take you away. Your head was pounding and you felt like you wanted to throw up, you just wanted to disappear.  

Chan stood there absolutely stunned. Why did you feel like you needed to compare yourself to that other girl? The alcohol was skewing your perspective, it had to be. You didn’t really think he meant that did you? You didn’t really think that about yourself, right? Sure the girl he was dancing with was beautiful but he thought you were beautiful too, you knew that, you knew he thought you were pretty. He thought it all the time when he watched you cooking dinner in the kitchen or when you both were curled up watching a documentary on sea cucumbers, he thought you were the prettiest when you laughed, which you did often... usually, not so much lately. You had to know because he thought it all the time... he thought.  

Thinking and saying are two totally different things. He tried to remember a time he’d told you that you looked pretty or that he thought you were beautiful and he couldn’t think of one, he couldn’t think of not one time he’d actually said out loud that he thought you were pretty. Underneath he knew a lot of other feelings came up with that statement, feelings he wasn’t sure he was ready to deal with, feelings that may scare you, feelings that might make you uncomfortable. You lived together, things could get messy saying things like that, so he’d thought it all the time but looking back he’d never really said it. Then he said that. God he was an idiot.  

He walked up to your door and could hear you sniffling on the other side. He knocked and then walked in like he always did. When he did you turned your back to him. Your voice was small again, choked. 

“Go away.” Chan shook his head and took another step in. 

“No. I need to say something.” You buried your head deeper into your pillow. 

“Go awa-” 

“I think you’re beautiful.” You closed your eyes tightly, tears soaking your pillow. 

“Stop...” 

“I think you’re so beautiful and your body is...” You sat up and faced him. He had to stop. 

“Shut up! Chan just shut. Up!” 

“And your body is perf-” You got up and stormed towards him. You started beating on his chest with your fists and he held your arms stopping you, your eyes closed tight crying even harder, screaming at him. 

“Shut up! Shut up! Don’t lie to me! Don’t you ever fucking lie to me! I hate you! I hate you for doing this to me! I hate you for making me love you!” You collapsed to the floor in front of him, curled up sobbing and whimpering at his feet.  

“Liar... I hate you...” You choked out quietly and Chan stood there frozen by your confession. He looked down and saw you, then laid down on the floor beside you. He didn’t try to make you talk or hold you, he just curled up and laid there with you so you weren’t alone. He’d never leave you alone, you were his best friend and so much more. It wasn’t long before all the night’s events caught up and you both fell asleep next to each other on the floor.  

The next morning you woke up stiff and sore, your head was pounding not only from the alcohol but also the endless crying you’d done the night before. You winced as you opened your eyes and then realized the warmth behind you and an arm draped over you. You turned your head a little to look and saw Chan laying by you on the floor, his arm around you. You quickly scrambled away, waking him up in the process. You sat on the floor by your bed your knees pulled up to your chest. Your chest that felt so heavy, heavy filled with the memories and the pain from last night. Chan sat up and tried to see you through his sleep swollen eyes. 

“Uh hey... um, good morning...” He said in his deep groggy voice. You bowed your head. 

“Morning.” You replied quietly. Chan sat there and stared at you for a second until you started to squirm. He wasn’t sure what all you remembered from the night before. He finally snapped out of it and struggled standing up, stiff from sleeping on the hard floor. 

“I uh... will let you wash up then.” You nodded and he turned and left your room. You grabbed a fresh tshirt and pair of sweats and hurried to the bathroom. You took the longest shower of your life, brushed your teeth and felt a little better. Not great but you could open your eyes all the way at least. As you were coming out of the bathroom Chan was walking into the hall from the living room and you almost bumped into each other. 

“Oh, sorry.” He said as his hands gently held your arms to stop you from stumbling. You quickly pulled away. 

“It’s fine.” You practically ran for your room and shut the door. Chan knew for sure that you remembered at least part of the night before. He ran his fingers through his messy curls frustrated with himself and went into the bathroom to shower as well. When he was done he threw on some shorts and as he pulled his tshirt over his head you tapped at his door. 

“Yea?” You cracked it just a little and kept your eyes glued to the floor. 

“Um, I... can I talk to you?” Chan nodded. 

“Yea of course come-” 

“In the living room whenever you're done.” You quickly added. He frowned a little but shook his head. 

“Yea I’ll be right out.” You gave him a single nod and closed the door. It wasn’t long before Chan walked out into the living room. You were sitting on one end of the couch just kind of zoned out until he walked in. He walked over and sat on the other end of the couch turned towards you. When you finally willed yourself to look at him you couldn’t help the small frown that shifted onto your face when you saw him sitting there with his wet curls and hopeful eyes. Chan’s heart squeezed in his chest seeing your frown. 

“I think I should move out.” Like a bucket of ice water was thrown on Chan, that was his expression. 

“WHAT? WHY!?” You scoffed at his reaction and his question. 

“Seriously Chan? You know why. I was drunk but I remember everything. I just... need some... space, some time away...” You watched your hands as you picked at your cuticles. 

“From me?” Chan said pained. You looked up at him with tears rimming your eyes and nodded. It was like the wind had been knocked out of him and he was hit with a realization that he’d taken so much for granted, a realization that he was losing you. You stood up to head back to your room and Chan gently grabbed your wrist stopping you. 

“Last night, when I told you you’r-” You shook your head. 

“No, stop. I’m going to pack a bag and stay with Minho and Jisung for now. As soon as I have arrangements made I’ll let you know and be back for my things, I’ll try to be quick.” Tears were streaking Chan’s face now as well as your own. You pulled your wrist free and did just as you said you were, you went to your room and packed clothes and toiletries to take with you to Minho and Jisung’s. On your way out you crossed through the living room and Chan was sitting in the same spot, still with tears running down his cheeks. You walked over and when you knelt in front of him he looked over at you, his eyes glassy with tears. You pushed his damp curls back, and he sniffled, you softly kissed his cheek and then stood and left. Chan broke down crying when he heard the door click closed behind you. 

When you got to Jisung and Minho’s place the first thing you did was fall into Jisung’s embrace and cry uncontrollably. You had been strong through the whole thing and now you didn’t have to be so you cried. Jisung sat on the couch with you and let you while Minho made some tea for you all. After a good cry and some tea you got unpacked in the guest room. You all were settled in the living room watching tv after dinner when there was a knock at the door. Minho and Jisung, one on each side of you, looked at each other. Neither were expecting anyone but both knew exactly who it was, you did too. Minho got up to answer the door. 

“Min...” You called him. He turned and saw your eyes, big and worried. He held up a finger nodding and turned to go answer the door. When he opened it unsurprisingly Chan was standing there. 

“I need to talk to y/n.” Chan tried to walk in and Minho blocked him. 

“You need to give it some time Chan there’s more to this for her than you realize.” Chan pressed his lips together tightly; he knew what was at stake and he wasn’t going to lose you without a fight.  

“Minho, I need to talk to her let me through.” Minho shook his head. 

“Chan-” 

“She needs to come home!” Chan said loudly. 

“y/n please come home!” He shouted into the apartment 

“Please! Just stay with me!” Minho pushed Chan out of the doorway and walked into the hall with him pulling the door closed behind him. 

“What the hell are you doing man? Are you hearing me? There’s more to this than you think!” Chan pushed back against Minho. 

“I’m in love with her! She needs to come home, she needs to be home with me! So I can apologize, so I can cook her favorite dinner and grab that lemon lime sorbet that she loves at the corner store, so I can hold her and kiss her and tell her everything I should have long before now.” Chan shouted, huge tears in his eyes. Minho was stunned. Once he had his wits about him again he shook his head. 

“All that aside Chan. It’s not the time for this. Just... give her some time.” He spoke softly, Minho didn’t want to have to hurt his friend and turn him away but he couldn’t hurt you either. Chan nodded, turned, and left without another word, he understood. When Minho walked back into the apartment you were standing at the opening of the foyer wide eyes filled with tears. 

“Mi-Minho... did... Chan... did he just...”  

“Say that he loved you?” You nodded and a tear fell. 

“Yea, he did.” You took a deep shuddering breath and braced yourself against the wall. 

“He looked awful. It’s only been part of a day but he looked like absolute hell not having you home.” You nodded, staring off as your thoughts spun a million miles an hour in your head. Chan loved you? Like you loved him? It was impossible. You didn’t know what to do. You were so confused. You had so many questions. You finally looked up at Minho. 

“Wha- should I go home? What do I do?” Minho shrugged. 

“Do you love him still?”  

“I’ll always love him.” Minho raised his brow at you knowingly. It was late but you didn’t care. You ran to the guest room, threw on some jeans and your tennis shoes and started towards you and Chan’s apartment. When you got there you unlocked the door quietly and tip-toed in so you didn’t make any noise in case Chan was already asleep. You walked into the living room and Chan was on the couch. His head was tilted back resting on the back of the couch and his arm was thrown over his eyes. You weren’t sure if he was sleeping or not. You made your way over and stood in front of him. When Chan felt someone standing near him he jumped before he realized it was you. He relaxed and sat there looking up at you with big brown glassy eyes. 

“y/n?” You nodded trying to fight back your own tears already. He didn’t say anything he just sat up and wrapped his arms around your midsection and hugged you, his head resting on your soft tummy. You hugged him, your fingers resting in his curls. He leaned back and looked up at you and you pushed his curls back away from his face. 

“I’m so sorry y/n, I should’ve never said that to you it wasn’t right and I...” You shook your head. 

“We have a lot to talk about and we will, I just have one question right now.” Chan nodded, his eyes piercing into yours. 

“Are you in love with me?” Chan shook his head up and down without a second of hesitation. He did, he knew. 

“Say it.” He sat up straight and looked at you, into you. 

“I’m in love with you y/n. I love you. I love you so m-” You leaned down and kissed him softly. He cupped your face and tilted his head, deepening the kiss. You broke away to take a breath and Chan pressed his forehead against yours, his hands resting on your wide hips, guiding you to kneel and rest on his lap, a thick thigh resting on either side of Chan’s strong legs. His hands slid down your thighs and squeezed even through the material it sent a shiver up your spine. You steadied yourself by holding on to Chan’s broad shoulders. Those same strong hands squeezing your thighs came up and held your face so softly, his thumb grazing the apple of your cheek. Tears started to well up in your eyes, Chan gently shook his head and pulled you in to kiss you again, pulling at your bottom lip with his teeth softly. You opened your mouth allowing him to slide his tongue inside. Chan wrapped his arms around you and pulled you all the way down onto his lap and you could feel him pressing into you making you throb with want as he devoured your lips. His hands ghosted down your back and rested on your hips urging you to move against him and you moaned into the kiss. 

“Sound... so pretty... baby girl.” He mumbled as he kissed down your neck. You could feel yourself getting wetter hearing the sweet pet name. You tilted your head giving him better access to his target. 

“Ch-Chan... wha-what are we... doing?” You panted as your hips ground together, as his hands gripped, and his lips explored. He pulled away when you asked, he was a little red and breathless chewing at his bottom lip. 

“Uh wha... what do you want?” You looked at him and pushed his curls back away from his beautiful face again. 

“You.” He smiled and touched your face. 

“Then... I’m yours.” You kissed him hard then scrambled to get up and get your jeans and panties off. As soon as Chan realized what you were doing he lifted his hips and pulled his shorts and briefs down to his ankles. You quickly climbed back onto his lap, there was no time to be shy or bashful as Chan lined up his cock with your wet hole and eased you down on to him. You both moaned and you gasped when you were fully seated in Chan’s lap again, only this time with his dick buried deep inside you. 

“Oh god!” Chan held onto your hips, his lip between his teeth, eyes closed tightly as he felt you squeeze his length with your warm soft walls. When he finally opened his eyes he saw you looking down at him, your eyes sparkling. You pulled at the hem of his shirt and took it off over his head running your hands up and down his firm torso over his chest and abs and back up again. Chan sat up his cock moving inside you deliciously making you squirm as his hands traveled up your plush body lifting your shirt up and over your head, your full breasts lined up with his face, he sucked on one and then the other, squeezing and pushing them together then raking his teeth across your hard nipples. 

“Ch-Chan... please...” He let go of your breasts and his hands slid down your curvy frame and rested on your ass. He leaned back on the couch then squeezed and pulled your hips forward and then pushed them back as he rolled his hips up into you. 

“Like that baby girl... ride it just like that.” You planted your hands low on his abs and pushed your hips forward and then back again on your own. You moved again and again and set a rhythm. Chan’s head rolled back and his eyes closed. 

“Does it feel good?” You needed to know you he was enjoying it, you wanted to make him feel good. Chan looked at you blushing and smiling as you rode his cock. 

“Mhmm yes, you feel so good baby, don’t stop.” He squeezed your thick ass and urged you to move faster. Your breaths shortened as your hips moved quicker. 

“G-gonna cum... Ch-Chan go-gonna cu-” Your eyes rolled back into your head as you wrapped your arms around Chan’s head hugging him tight, his face buried in your big tits again. Chan could feel you dripping down his cock as you came on top of him, your hips stuttering and Chan helped you ride it out as he rolled his hips up into you harder. When you finally let go of him Chan slumped back on the couch again, held up your hips forcing you forward making you brace onto the back of the couch and with his strong hands holding you up he started pounding into you from underneath not only chasing his own high but sending you nosediving into another orgasm. More of your arousal dripped down his cock and there was a lewd smacking sound every time Chan hammered his dick into your wet cunt. He put you down and sat back up pulling you close as your cunt took his whole cock. It was messy grinding and rubbing and wet and as you shook and trembled through your third orgasm. Chan pulled you closer still, he held you tight and came deep inside you as he cupped your face and sweetly kissed your lips. You sat there sweaty and out of breath on Chan’s lap your head resting on one of his shoulders, his arms wrapped around you as his cock softened inside you. When you caught your breath and the adrenalin wore down the gravity of what just happened hit you like a train and you started to cry. Chan pulled you up and held your face worried. 

“Hey hey, what’s wrong huh? Baby don’t cry.” Hearing him call you by the sweet pet name only made you cry harder. He hugged you close again and grabbed the throw blanket off the back of the couch and wrapped it around you. He rubbed your back and held you until you were calm again. 

“Sorry it was just a lot of big feelings all at once and I got a little overwhelmed.” Chan shook his head as he continued tracing shapes on your back to soothe you. 

“Don’t be sorry I understand. Are you okay now?” You nodded and sat up and Chan smiled at you his dimples popping up. 

“Good. Why don’t we wash up and get to bed. We’ll talk about everything first thing tomorrow, including you moving out of your room. You were confused and frowned a little. 

“You... you still think I should?” Chan nodded. 

“Absolutlely. My room is bigger so it just makes sense for you to move into mine over me moving into yours.” You let out a huge sigh of relief and shoved him a little. He hugged you close and kissed your neck. 

“I love you baby girl.” You melted into his hug. 

@acciocriativity @caroline-ds-world @chansynie @ughbehavior @jquellen27 @fixation-dump @lachinitaaaaa @rinrinndou @bangchans-angel @laylasbunbunny @owo-manii-uwu @armystay89 @b00dyguts @purplenimsicle @caticorn61 @lauraneuuh @channieandhisgoonsquad @life-is-glorious @minnysproutgriffinteddy

“I love you too Chan.” 

Please do not repost or translate any of my works. My blog and stories are NSFW and 18+ ONLY! Minors, ageless, and blank blogs will be blocked!

[libraryofgage]

Mermaid/Pirate Steddie Five

One | Two | Three | Four

*slaps top of the fic* this bad boi has everything: mermaids, fluff, reunions, Eddie being a simp, protective mom Steve

Anyway, stick around to the very very end for a meme hot off the presses about this part lmao

as always, if you see any typos, no you didn't ;P

----

It takes Robin and the guppies three days to reach the ship Erica mentioned. They're all irritable, and the only thing that keeps them from snapping at each other is the idea that Steve might be hurt or in danger. Robin thinks they might have torn each other apart otherwise, and she can't even say for sure that she would have stopped the guppies from engaging in a full-on brawl.

So, to say she's beyond relieved when they finally catch up to the ship is an understatement.

But now they need to plan. The ship is way too close to a port city; close enough that any of the pirates could survive long enough to swim that way and spread the story of a murderous pod. Which, honestly, wouldn't do much for keeping all mermaids safe and on good enough terms with humanity that regular humans don't hunt them for sport. It does nothing to stop the pirates, but still.

"We could just make sure to drown everyone," Max suggests, watching the bottom of the ship with narrowed eyes.

Robin almost agrees, but then she stops. Because she knows Steve. If even one person on that ship wasn't an asshole to him, he'd say to spare them, and that could result in the aforementioned spreading of murderous pod stories. But after he's been trapped for so long, Robin wouldn't be able to argue with any request. She's already imagined him dead and strung up like a trophy more than she'd like to admit. She couldn't stand to see him frown after that.

So, she shakes her head, a frustrated bubble pattern flaring from her gills. "We need to be smarter about this," she says.

"We didn't strategize before sinking the other one," Will points out.

"That one kidnapped him. This one might have rescued him, and we should show mercy if that is the case," El says, stretched out and floating on her back. She's the most relaxed of them, and Robin wonders if it's because of that sixth sense she's got going.

"El is right," Robin says, crossing her arms and studying the ship. "We should be more careful about this."

"We could try signaling him," Dustin suggests. "Like, uh, dolphin noises or something."

"If we do that," Lucas says, "we'll need to give him enough time to respond without anyone around."

Robin nods, agreeing with both of them. "Okay, here's what we're gonna do. I'll swim closer while you guys stay here. We have that dumb screech system Steve made us memorize, so I'll use that to signal him. Then we'll wait until the sun rises tomorrow. That should be enough time for him to respond. If he doesn't, we'll sink the ship," she says.

"What if he's not on it?" Mike asks.

"We'll keep one human alive for questioning," Will says, looking at Robin and flashing a tiny, relieved smile when she nods in agreement. "We'll probably have to drown them either way, though."

"Well, we don't need to tell them that," Erica says, snorting as she reaches out to pet a fish that swims by. It's tiny enough to weave through her fingers twice before swimming on.

"Yeah, definitely won't be telling them," Robin agrees, trying and mostly failing to hold back an amused smile. "Okay, stay here. I'll be back after a few minutes. While I'm gone, Erica is in charge."

A chorus of protests chases after Robin as she swims away, heading toward the surface. The sun shines brighter the closer she gets, and she winces when her head finally breaks through the water. It reflects off the ocean, sparkling and blinding as the water shifts and flows.

Robin huffs and sinks down until only her eyes are above the water. The ship is a few yards away, and she can't see anyone moving around on the deck from this distance. She slowly moves closer, her ear fins straining as she tries to listen for any sign of life. Or Steve. Actually, she'd love to hear any sign of Steve from the ship.

Unfortunately, she doesn't.

Once she's close enough to touch the ship, hiding in the shadow it casts over the water, she circles it once. There are a few windows along the hull, but none of them are actually open. That could make it harder for Steve to hear her, but Robin will just be extra loud to compensate.

Robin clears her throat, rolls her shoulders, flicks her tail, and rises until her chin is above the water. She then lets out a sound that can only be classified as the dying shrieks of a dolphin and seagull's abomination of a love child. She makes this noise twice, but each one lasts a few seconds.

Robin can't risk any of the humans seeing her when they investigate the noise. If they are holding Steve captive, they might hurt him even more if they know another mermaid is around. So, she dips below the water, completely submerging and waiting anxiously for a response.

----

Steve has discovered the wonders of just sprawling on a solid surface, his arms thrown to the side and his tail stretched out as he stares up at the ceiling. It's oddly calming, and Steve can almost trick himself into thinking the bobbing of the ship is the ocean itself.

That's what Steve is doing now, forcing himself to relax and brace himself for telling Eddie that he has to leave for a while to find Robin and the guppies. His eyes are closed, and he's running through every possible outcome of that conversation. The second best case scenario (Eddie decides to come with him in a tiny boat) is playing out when he hears it.

The Emergency Shriek.

The last time he'd heard it, Dustin was desperately crying out for help as he struggled against the net that dragged him to the surface. Steve's reaction then had been the exact same as his reaction now. He jolts, his eyes wide and all of his fins flaring in preparation for the fastest swimming of his life, and his lips are pulled back in a vicious snarl to display his fangs and scare off the threat.

But he's on a boat, in the captain's cabin, and that window is way too small for him to climb through. Steve doesn't really think (he can't, actually; his brain has officially gone into Guppies and Robin In Danger Mode). He drags himself to the door of the cabin, digs his fingers into the space beneath, and uses all his strength to rip it off.

The wood groans and the hinges shriek and then the bottom half of the door comes off in his hands. Steve tosses it to the side and crawls through, his tail twitching and flopping in a vain attempt to move faster. If anyone were to actually witness this, they'd probably find it somewhere between utterly terrifying and unfortunately hilarious. A giant fish is dragging and flopping along the floor, but it's also exuding the most intense aura of bloodlust most creatures have ever encountered.

And that bloodlust only gets worse when Steve comes to the stairs that lead to the deck. He stares at them, anger building in his chest at the obstacle they present and just how long it will take to climb them. By the time he reaches the top, Robin and the guppies could be dead, and Steve will have wasted time by uselessly trying to climb some stupid stairs.

He grits his teeth, claws digging into the wood beneath him. And then Steve suddenly realizes that he doesn't have to climb the stairs himself. He takes a deep breath, his gills flaring some to pull in more air, and screams as loud as he can, "EDDIE!"

Steve is absolutely going to reward Eddie for his speed (later, after his guppies and Robin are safe) because he immediately hears something crash above him, followed by swearing and frantic footsteps that stop at the stairs. "Stevie, what the fuck?" Eddie asks, panting as he hurries down the stairs.

"On the deck," Steve says, pushing up onto his tail and wrapping his arms around Eddie's neck when he starts leaning down. "Right now, Eddie. Actually, two minutes ago. As fast as you can. And to the edge of the ship. The railing. Now!"

Eddie, his wonderful and incredible Eddie, doesn't question him. He just scoops Steve up and carries him back up the stairs, fingers digging into Steve's waist when he nearly trips over the final step. He finds his balance again, barely, and strides over to the railing.

Steve can't see anything wrong with the water, but he knows the surface doesn't actually tell him anything useful. He frowns and looks at Eddie. "I'll be back," he promises before letting go of Eddie's neck and twisting to place his hands on the rail.

In one swift motion, he launches himself over the side, grimacing when he feels the edge of his tail fin smack Eddie's cheek along the way. But Steve doesn't let himself linger and focuses on the rush of water around him as he dives below the surface. His gills flare and he breathes for the first time in a while, his hair and body familiarly weightless, and Steve fully realizes how much he fucking missed being in the ocean.

But he can't linger on that relief and joy either.

Steve shoots through the water, swimming to wear he thinks the Emergency Shriek came from, only to be tackled as he rounds the edge of the ship. He yelps, his breath knocked out of him as he goes careening, arms wrapping around his waist like he's going to disappear. It takes exactly one second for him to recognize Robin, her hair floating in front of his eyes and her claws digging into his back.

"You're okay!" she shouts as their momentum starts to falter.

Steve wraps his arms around her and holds her close, one hand on the back of her head and the other around her waist. "Where's the danger?" he asks, scanning the water around them and frowning when he sees nothing.

Robin laughs and pulls away, grinning at him with relief clear in her eyes. "There isn't any, dingus. I was trying to see if you were on that ship," she explains.

Before she can say anything else or Steve can respond, several bodies crash into him from behind. "STEVE!"

They all go careening through the water again, and Steve can't help laughing this time. He tries to hug as many of the guppies as he can, running his fingers through their hair and over their shoulders to reassure himself and them that they're together again. They don't let up, though, and Steve is getting pulled deeper and deeper as they pile on top of him, each trying to get closer as Robin wraps her arms around his neck and buries her face in his nape.

"Okay, okay!" Steve says, a stupidly happy grin on his face, "I'm fine, I promise. I'm not hurt."

"But you were!" Will shouts, managing to push forward long enough for Steve to see the red in his eyes from crying. "We saw your scales in the other ship."

"I healed," Steve promises, gesturing at his tail. This gets the guppies to back off long enough to inspect his tail, all seven of them circling around and inspecting for new injuries.

"What's this?" Erica asks, pointing at the new scar.

"That's the wound that healed."

"I'm so glad you're okay," El says, finishing her inspection first and grabbing Steve's hand.

"Yeah, now we can wreck that ship!" Max says, her eyes lighting up with a vicious glee as she looks at the Corroded Coffin in the distance.

Steve blinks. "Wait, what?"

"This has been healed for a while, Steve," Max explains, gesturing to his tail, "So, they must have been keeping you captive, right? Let's sink them."

"I bet they've got some great treasure on there," Dustin says, lingering closer to Steve's shoulder even as he looks at the ship, studying it with the same face he studies squids he wants to try trapping.

And, yeah, Dustin would be right. There is some great treasure in the Corroded Coffin. Steve's treasure. Eddie. "We are not sinking the ship," he says, his voice firm. It's his official Caretaker Voice, and it makes all the guppies stiffen slightly as they look at him. "The...humans there saved me."

A few seconds pass, and then Robin behind him gasps. "You fell in love!" she shouts, using Steve's shoulders to brace herself as she pushes up and leans over his head. "With a human!"

"Wh-how could you tell?!" Steve asks, looking up at her as the guppies start clamoring for his attention as well.

"Was it the captain?" Will asks, eyes a little brighter but also warier.

"Is he ugly?" Mike asks, his tone implying that he already believes the answer to be yes.

"Dude, how could you fall for a human?!" Dustin shouts, his nose wrinkled up in slight disgust.

"Have you been courting a human the whole time we've been looking for you?" Erica asks, crossing her arms over her chest.

"Yeah! How long have you been healed, then?" Max adds, moving next to Erica and glaring at Steve.

"Wait, so we're not sinking the ship?" Lucas asks, failing to cover his disappointment as he gazes at the ship longingly.

"Congratulations, Steve. I'm sure he's very nice," El says, smiling at him, and Steve almost cries at her simple and accepting response.

"I want to meet him," Robin says.

And her words get the rest of the guppies to quiet down. They all share a few looks and then nod at Steve in sync. "Yeah, we need to meet him," Dustin says, apparently the spokesperson for the group.

Steve blinks, looking at the guppies and Robin. He wanted Eddie to meet his guppies and Robin, of course, but he's a little worried about what they'll do to Eddie. "Only if you promise not to drown him," he says, shooting each of them a hard look.

"I'm insulted you think we would," Robin says, scoffing as she swims to the guppies, facing Steve. "Now, go get your soft and very drownable human down here."

Steve rolls his eyes and motions for the guppies and Robin to follow as he swims toward the surface. He doesn't plan to let them out of his sight, and he knows the feeling is mutual.

----

Exactly twenty minutes and 13 seconds have passed since Steve threw himself over the rail of the ship, and Eddie hasn't moved. He knows his crew is a little concerned, especially when they notice the red cut across his cheek, but he waves them off when they try to pull him away from the railing to focus on something else.

He just can't risk Steve surfacing and not seeing him.

And his paranoia feels validated when Steve does surface and immediately smiles brightly at him, looking somewhere between relieved and ecstatic. "Eddie!" Steve shouts, waving like he doesn't always have Eddie's undivided attention, "Jump in!"

Here's the thing. When a gorgeous merman that Eddie has spent a bunch of time courting (and then kissing) tells him to jump into the ocean, Eddie is going to jump into the fucking ocean. "Just a second," he shouts back.

He kicks off his shoes, waves off Asher and Jeff when they try to convince him to not jump off the ship, and then launches himself over the railing. For a brief moment, Eddie feels weightless, and then he hits the water. His legs sting a little where they broke the surface, the cut on his cheek practically screams in protest, and a cascade of bubbles block his vision just as much as the salt that stings his eyes and makes everything blurry.

The blurriness does nothing to keep him from recognizing Steve when he swims closer, though. Steve is still grinning at him, and Eddie's grin in return falters slightly when he tries to kick to the surface and Steve stops him. Before Eddie can try to signal that he cannot, in fact, breathe underwater, Steve kisses him.

As they kiss, Steve's tongue pushes against Eddie's lips, carefully prying them open. Eddie leans closer to Steve, figuring he doesn't mind dying like this, and falters when he feels a bubble of air roll down his tongue and lodge in his throat. Steve pulls away, and Eddie inhales on reflex. The bubble in his throat gets a tiny bit smaller, and Eddie doesn't get any water in his lungs.

"Tug my arm when the bubble gets too small. You won't be able to talk underwater, but you won't drown." And then he notices the cut on Eddie's face. His smile drops some, and he leans forward, gently tracing his finger along the wound. "Sorry, I didn't mean to hurt you," Steve says, his voice echoing and surrounding Eddie in the water.

Eddie shakes his head, waving his hand dismissively. It's at this point that he notices some blurry shapes a distance away, but he doesn't pay them too much mind. He focuses back on Steve and takes his hand, squeezing reassuringly before kissing his palm.

"It doesn't hurt, right?" Steve asks, his voice a little softer and slightly muffled but still one of the most beautiful things Eddie has ever heard.

Eddie shakes his head again and wraps his free hand around Steve's waist, pulling him closer. This is much easier to do in the water. He kisses Steve again, tasting salt more than anything else, and Steve takes the chance to replenish the air bubble despite its minimal use so far.

When he pulls away, he looks more relaxed. "Promise you'll let me know if you need more air?" he asks, his tone insistent and firm. Steve waits for Eddie to nod before grinning. "Great, because my guppies and Robin want to meet you. And, uh, they're really disappointed about not getting to sink your ship, but don't hold that against them."

Eddie blinks, suddenly wondering if maybe he shouldn't have jumped into the ocean at Steve's beck and call. But then he notices the way Steve moves so naturally in the water, how his hair floats and moves around him, how bubbles rise from his gills as he speaks, and Eddie knows he'd jump without thought all over again.

So, yeah, he guesses it's time to meet some guppies and Robin.

----

Tag List (the tag list is full! I wasn't able to fit everyone, so if you aren't on here, I'd suggest following #high seas steddie. I think you should still get updates on your dash if you do)

@mugloversonly, @raisedbylibrarians, @thegirlwiththelibrarybag, @savory-babby, @vankaar, @beckkthewreck, @itcanbepalped, @imfinereallyy, @finntheehumaneater, @mightbeasleep, @weekend-dreamer7

@whenindoubtb72, @troublemaker2azz, @just-a-tiny-void, @upallnightogetloki, @mxmakessense, @ellietheasexylibrarian, @haelreadsshit, @y4r3luv, @starman-jpg, @littlewildflowerkitten, @estrellami-1, @stevieschrodinger, @gaelicblue, @they-reap-what-we-sow

@5ammi90, @noodle-shenaniganery, @acrolius, @hallelujahimatheist, @rainbow-freckle, @desidrarry-wolfstarshipper, @goodolefashionedloverboi, @79chevyimpala, @aliea82, @hopefulcookieoperatorpersona, @sani-86, @queenie-ofthe-void, @goosesister, @hello-fellow-nerds, @luthienstormblessed, @xtkxkrzrizir, @potato-of-the-lord, @geekymagicalpotato, @child-of-cthulhu, @aizawa-emma, @m-owo-n, @newtstabber, @cartercaptainofthemoon, @spectrum-spectre, @a-little-unsteddie

And, if you've made it this far, here's a little meme for your entertainment

[sceletaflores]

•｡ꪆৎ ˚⋅ wip wednesday!

thanks for the tag babes! @guiltyasdave • nsfw under the cut! 18+ MDNI!

wip #1 • show me a little bit of spine! feat. logan howlett (& crimson!)

'five x-men walk into a bar, only three walk out…'

oops i don't have a sneak peek for this one...sorry chickens.

this is an official part two to "all's fair in love and viscera" cause i can't leave them alone to save my life! i finally decided on the name crimson for this specific reader, and the au as a whole will be called the to the bone universe (that’s also how it’ll be tagged on my acc!!!)

this is jealous!logan getting down and dirty in a bar bathroom after a special someone makes a move on his girl...wink wink nudge nudge. a special guest! a very special guest, cause what better way is there to get a man off their ass and admit they like you than dirty dancing with another man in front of him.

think degradation, biting, pain kink (obvi wtf). there's also some emotional constipation and just a hint of angst. it'll be so fun!

wip #2 • says he needs it bad (oh so very bad) feat. sub!logan howlett (& crimson!)

'it’s not often that logan needs this, but you’re always more than happy to give it to him when he does…'

double oops i don’t have a sneak peek for this one either…pls forgive me!

this is also apart of the to the bone universe but it's more like a non-connecting little blurb than another part...if that makes sense lol i just wanted to write more crimson!

all this is thanks to a lovely anon who sent in a req desperately needing me to speak on sub!logan. it's funny because ofc i'll speak on sub!logan wtf who do you think i am. it's honestly one of the fluffiest, softest things i've ever written...established relationship is really locking my ass down. it's still filthy though don't worry! think riding, think pain kink, think light dustings of a breeding kink. i really don't know how to explain this lmao it's gonna be great trust me!

wip #3 • hunting for sport... feat. logan howlett (& crimson!)

'there's a big bad wolf somewhere in these woods...'

You scramble backwards, stuck watching the way the brush starts to rustle as he gets closer. You push yourself back to your feet, muscles screaming in protest as you break into a sprint. It's all in vain, you know it is. He's only playing with you, letting you tire yourself out. He’s known where you’ve been the whole time, could smell you the whole time, could hear you the whole time. The two of you have been at this long enough now, his patience is starting to run thin. He's right behind you, if the violent thrashing of the brush over your shoulder getting louder is any indication. The dull sound of claws ripping through the forest floor growing closer and closer before the entire woods suddenly tilts on its axis.

this is also in the to the bone universe! can you tell that i'm really into this au? i physically can't stop writing them...another little fic that's outside the events of parts one and two :))) who would i be if i didn't write a chase fic for this man? that's the real question. more violence heavy than the other fics listed, i got bit by the freak bug and i need to write nasty sexy violence sorry babes.

wip #4 • give it to me like a man! feat. dbf!patrick zweig

'patrick comes to your college graduation party, he gives you the best gift...'

“Yeah, I've been pretty busy since the season started. Lot’s of traveling and shit, you know?” Your dad hums in agreement, nodding his head lazily. “For sure, my schedule has been killer this season.” He brags shamelessly, tone heavy with understanding like he and Patrick are in the same boat. Only your dad’s boat is a three million dollar yacht sailing to cushy televised matches and Nike shoots while Patrick is floating on a dinghy to some barely media covered ITF matches. “It’s a miracle I even had time to fly in for the party, isn’t that right sweetheart?” Your hand slides up the length of his cock in one slow motion, your palm grinding over the tip through the denim. “Yeah, daddy.” You say, voice going light and airy around the edges. Patrick thinks it’s being said to your dad, but when his eyes flick over to you, you’re already looking at him. Eyes half-lidded and shiny as your fingers brush over the metal of his zipper.

the long awaited dbf!patrick lol i know i've been dragging this damn thing out for like three weeks but it's the most "done" fic on this list so maybe maybe MAYBE it'll actually be posted soon...

anyway this is nothing but pure filth. just straight up nasty no plot at all pure sex and fucking hard gross style. lots and lots of dirty talk, degradation, risk play, sort of public sex, a barely there daddy kink...just me being nasty on a google doc for no reason!

no pressure tags! @ebodebo @artemis-b-writes @avocado-writing (it's technically thursday but like oh em gee who cares just do it anyway chickens)

[honk4shelbi]

🙂❤️ Charpim Fic Inspired by my followers !

I call this one.... Burger hot chocolate hands .. .

" Alright, here we are. You sure you don't want me to drop you off closer to your apartment ? " Mr. Boss parks his Ford F150 outside the local Salty's; its concerning this place is still opened after the murder case. Almost as concerning as knowing the Boss has a Ford F150.

Thank god he does though-- or Charlie wouldn't of been able to make it to work today, not during this weather.

" Uh, yea its fine. I'm like, five minutes from here." Charlie steps down from the truck, showing care to grab the assisting handle tightly. The roads, the side walks, the EVERYTHING was covered in a thin sheet of ice. One wrong step and he could eat shit on the pavement. " I haven't been able to get groceries; I'm starving. "

" Alrighty then. Sleep in tomorrow; I think the roads are suppose to be even WORSE so I'm closing up shop. Even I don't want to drive my baby on that. Isn't that right baby girl ? " The Boss proceeds to coddle the dashboard of his truck. Weird.

" Uh-- okaaaay.... Cya man. " " Bye Bye Charlie, Be safe ! "

Charlie couldn't wait to feast on one of his burgers. As he walked home, he scarfed one down entirely. What ? The weather does this to him-- its like.. hibernation or something like that. That's why he bought THREE of them.

After a long, precarious tread to his apartment, Charlie wasted no time curling up on his couch, wrapping himself in his Mr. Frog in Space throw blanket.

Siigghhh.... " Finally I can be warm again; I can't do this cold shit-- "

Suddenly, it goes dark.

" No. Fucking. Way. " The power was out. Of coarse this shitty ass apartment complex couldn't handle one winter storm. " God damnit. " Charlie, given no choice, gives up on watching T.V and instead crawls onto his mattress. There's nothing else to do without power-- he might as well sleep it off and finish the rest of his cold burgers.

The power will surely come on eventually...

Come several hours of shivering in bed, Charlie gives up. " Fuck-- will Pim even be awake at 1 am ? " He reaches over at his phone, which was dangerously only at 12 percent of battery. Have to make this count.

Come on Pim.. I'm counting on you.. He dials Pim's number.

~~~~

" Charlie you should of called me way sooner ! You're freezing ! I can't believe you thought you could sleep with no heat ALL night-- " Pim had to drive slow. VERY slow. His car was nice, but it wasn't meant for this ice. Thankfully, no one else is on the road so he can really pace himself.

" Yea yea yea. " Charlie breathes a fog of warm air into his hands, before holding them up to the heat vents. ".. Thanks Pim. "

Pim nods, " Of coarse. But I don't feel comfortable doing this again tomorrow-- you'll just have to just stay with me until the roads thaw. But I don't mind ! It'll be fun ! We can watch movies, and drink hot chocolate ! "

Charlie's cheeks start to warm up-- both a blessing and a curse in this situation. He just realized how utterly fucked he'd be without Pim right now... it's kind of embarrassing. Almost as embarrassing as how much he was looking forward to spending time with Pim. Damn him and his stupid crush-- " Pim, If you make me hot chocolate I'll be one happy critter . "

" Anything to see you smile." " What ? " " NOTHING. " Pim's cheeks glow red and he remains far more silent the rest of the ride. Looks like Charlie wasn't the only one looking forward to this..

~~~~

Not so surprisingly, Pim's place still had power. Charlie always felt self conscious when he visited Pim's apartment-- Pim is just... so much more put together. His apartment actually WASN'T a piece of shit. But Charlie didn't get to think about that long before Pim started speaking;

" Let me start the hot chocolate-- just make yourself warm. "

Charlie sunk into the couch; just happy to be warm. Then he used a nearby outlet to start charging his phone. As he waited, his mind began to wonder. Was he sleeping on the couch? Of coarse he would.. why wouldn't he ? It would be weird if they slept in Pim's bed together. . . . . .

" Here Charlie ! " " AHH ! "

The smaller critter gasps. " Oh god-- sorry I didn't mean to scare you ! " Pim ditches the mug of cocoa on the table and hops onto the couch; He scoots even closer, so he can pat Charlie's back. He's aware of Charlie's heart problems, so he was genuinely concerned. " I just got excited." He grabs Charlies hand tightly.

Catching his breath, Charlie squeezes the hand, enjoying the warmth of the other. A bit TOO much. " It's fine-- i was just distracted. "

" About what, Charlie, are you alright ? " " Yea I said it's f-- "

Eye contact. They both just realized how close they were sitting to each other. That time they kissed at Salty's replays in both their heads. It's almost as if they both were considering kissing each other in that moment but--

The lights go out.

" Oh no.... "

~~~~

Both tired and defeated, they get ready for bed. " Sorry about this Charlie-- Last year this didn't happen.. guess it really is bad out there. " He says as he turns the living room lamp off so Charlie can sleep more soundly on the couch.

" It's not your fault Pim, don't apologise. I just fucking hate it-- I ain't built for the cold like this. " In fact, his breath was already creating a small fog. He shivers. " Still better inculcated then my place though. "

Pim walks over towards his room, but lingers a moment, not quick to leave. He twirls the point to his sleeping cap. " Well.. Goodnight Charlie.... "

" Night bud. "

... ... ...

" Pim ? " " Yea Charlie ? " " Do you want me to sleep in bed w- "

" YES ! " Thank GOD he asked-- he wanted it SO badly he couldn't stand it. Pim fantasized about sleeping with Charlie ever since he got the call-- hell.. ever since they kissed he's thought about it.

Charlie bites his lip and hesitates; Just enough to build up the nerve to get up and hurry over to Pim. He lifts the smaller critter into his arms and carries him to bed.

They both giggle and immediately lock their bodies together for warmth under the blankets.

" Thanks for answering the phone, dude. " Pim grins and leans in closely. " Call me more often. " He coos before kissing his friend passionately.

They both had wanted this for so long.

~~~

THE END, Thanks for contributing @gaspipegeoff , @cosmo-shell , @onceagwen

If you got this far and like it, then consider supporting my Kofi . I'm planning on continuing this w/ maybe smut involved as a next chapter and posting it on my Kofi for my supporters . Don't worry ill post it here eventually too, but youll get it way earlier there.

[cressthebest]

Crimson Rivers thoughts pt. 22

chapter 38:

1. “"Right, so, your stylist?" Marlene asks, settling in as they continue to sway. "The one who looks like a fucking goddess? Yeah, so get this, she says we're friends…"”

james and marlene gossip sesh <3333333

2. 😧 MCGONNAGAL??????????

3. wait i think mcgonnagal is good. i’m pretty sure she’s from the phoenix. i’m not sure. i’m hopeful. i’m so hopeful

4. aww huey is kinda sweet. i like that’s he’s reg’s breath of fresh air when it comes to talking to the hallows

5. reg, i understand your anger, but please don’t make one of the only good sponsors feel bad

6. jealous james >>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>

7. “"I like your tea," James offers. "Maybe I'm biased, but it tastes better than anyone else's. What do you do to it?"

Regulus hums and lightly says, "I spit in it."

Without missing a beat, James replies, "Ah, that explains it."”

😭😭😭😭😭

8. “"Would you—" Regulus chokes on another relentless giggle, gasping a little. "Wait, would you actually drink my tea if I spit in it, James?"

"Love, I would let you spit directly into my mouth," James announces with absolutely no shame in his tone whatsoever.”

😭😭😭😭 james i love you

9. awww i love that barty is the most consistent part of reg’s life. i love barty

10. 😬 riddle is unconvinced in their love story. i- yikes

11. okay, right, mcgonnagal is good. thank god

12. dorcas wants to keep marlene out of the war, but only one of them has had a pov so far, so i’m not hopeful

13. oh shit marlene sounds hot

14. also, to add in, i’m so fucking glad there’s like no homophobia (that we know of) in this world

15. i do NOT want dorlene to be a tragedy in this universe

16. 😟 she gave back the ring. AHHHH

17. oh no. shit shit shit shit shit what did riddle do

18. “Riddle didn't even grant the liberty of leaving bodies behind for them to bury.” 😟😧

(but also, orion and walburga were dicks, so like, i’m not sad, just scared)

chapter 39:

1. aww regulus finally invites james in for tea

2. “On the day he accidentally kills a bee while tending to his flowers, he goes through the five stages of grief in less than an hour, which has nothing to do with the bee and everything to do with Vanity.” STOP! THE VANITY MENTION HURTS TOO MUCH

3. “When Regulus wants more time with him, he adds bagels, which James has now unconsciously been Pavloved into thinking of as his favorite food for that very reason.” STOP THATS SO GAY

4. sirius being dramatic about james and reg liking each other is TOP TIER in this fic, in the most realistic, aggravated, obnoxious, and completely loving way

5. BWAHAHAHHAHA JAMES GETTING A PIGGY BACK RIDE FROM SIRIUS IS GOLD

6. oh shit, (i’m not the best comprehensive reader, but i should have figured this out sooner), but from sirius’ perspective, he has to do the back and forth with remus his whole life. he doesn’t have the knowledge that i do, that a war is coming and they’ll finally get a chance to live together. he thinks he only gets to see remus once a year for two weeks at a time. this- this shit is heartbreaking yall

7. “”I watched him stand to his feet and tip himself into a river of blood in an act so tender that I'll never again be able to look at him with anything less than pure love. Every other member of the Black family, including you, fought and clawed their way home to their family, oftentimes to a family that never truly made them feel loved at all. Regulus? He fought and clawed through that arena, the entire time, for James. He's far more gentle than anyone gives him credit for."”

y’all, i’m crying over this. this is so lovely. effie is right, and i’m crying over how right she is

8. 😒 i know what’s coming. riddles a bitch. a right bitch. he’s gonna announce that previous victors are competing and i’m PISSED

9. so far, all three potters offered reggie food. they’re so hospitable, i love them

10. “He hasn't forgotten what it is to long for James. He still knows what it is to want him so badly that he'd be willing to kneel at the altar of James Potter and beg; he'd drop down on his hands and knees and crawl if that's what it took, if that would prove his devotion. He is the manifestation of longing built up with nowhere to go, and he craves, he yearns, he covets.”

both of them are so down bad

11. omg reg is so horny. his inner monologue is literally only like “”””“rip my clothes off please, read my mind and rip my clothes off”””””

12.AHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH I KNEW IT WAS COMING! BUT IM SO MAD!!! FUCK RIDDLE

13. effie is a queen. she is a godsend. and i’m so upset right now

14. not effie making them promise not to volunteer, and immediately james and sirius arguing over who’s gonna volunteer for her

15. i’m seething. i’m pissed beyond belief. i’m so angry it’s indescribable. my babies are going back into that arena. honestly, fuck riddle

[bandnerdlevel43]

Day Three- Reunion (Modern)

Lu Legend x Ravio (Ravioli) 

Summary: Ravio has been off on a business trip with Hilda for a month now, and Legend has been getting lonely. Now he's coming back- right on the day of the chain’s jazz band performance.

Word Count: 6,911 (This is a long one)

Warnings: If you read my first fic, you know I don’t swear but it’s there for the vibe; Legend has anxiety, Legend has a flashback in a flashback involving non graphic stab wounds and a reference to his dead uncle, improper use of a trumpet spit valve, Fable is a menace, Four has to deal with her, author has several agendas and she is pushing ALL of them today, fluff at the end, super über long fic

A/N (Please read this, it's important): I'm back! I procrastinated this one for way too long, but I finally finished it! I somehow also managed to finish day four and five before this one, so those will also be posted with this. Go check them out here and here!

…Anyways, it's time for me to come clean. I'm a band kid. And a proud one, too. I saw this post and went absolutely nuts, so of course I had to write about a jazz band au. Give the post some love (since op is inactive) because most of it was the basis for this au.

Important part: The last song they play in this fic is “Want You Gone” by the 8-Bit Big Band, feat. Benny Benack III, and I suggest you listen to it! The lyrics are hilarious but if you don’t listen to it before the fic itself you’ll get lost very easily. If you see any music words you’re unfamiliar with, either throw me an ask or you can look it up on your browser. Sorry for the long note; I hope you enjoy!

----

Good news: We’re on our way back! We’ll be home by the twenty-third.

We have a performance that day.

I won’t see you.

I can drop in. Don’t worry! We’ll make it, I promise.

Alright. Love you.

I love you too, Link.

“Texting your boyfriend?” Fable chirped.

Legend jumped, shielding his phone and glaring at his sister. “None of your business,” he spat.

Fable grinned, toying with the reed in her fingers. “You sure you don’t have that message memorized?”

“Shut up,” he hissed.

Wind blew into his trombone, imitating a wolf-whistle while wiggling his eyebrows. Legend snorted. “Real mature, Sailor.”

Sky paused the plucking of his bass’s strings, his eyes flicking from his tuner to Legend as his brows furrowed. “Isn’t he coming back today?”

“Yep,” Fable trilled gleefully. “And Legend is beside himself with lovesickness!”

“Fable!” Legend growled. Great goddesses, could she be any more insufferable?

Well, apparently she could. “His lonely heart, separated from his lover for what seemed like years,” she sighed, swooning dramatically. “Tonight they'll reunite in a passionate embrace, proclaiming their love to-”

Twilight appeared from behind her and swatted her upside the head. “Leave ‘im alone,” he chided. While Fable scampered away, giggling, he tossed a tiny bottle to Wind, who snatched it out of the air. “Slide grease.”

“Thanks, Rancher.” Wind saluted. 

“Anything you two need?” Twilight asked, looking at Sky and Legend. Both shook their heads. 

“Hey, Twilight!” Four sauntered up to the small gathering, tenor sax slung over his shoulder by the strap. “We need cork grease over here.” He blinked at Legend and pointed out needlessly, “Your face is red. You okay?”

Legend didn't think his face could heat any further. He was wrong. “I'm fine,” he muttered.

“He's just madly in love,” Wind said mischievously. Both Fable and Sky snickered. He glared at them, Sky in particular. I thought better of you, bird boy.

Four's lips twitched upwards in a smirk. “Ah. This is about Ravio.”

Legend dropped his head into his hands with a groan. Fable, for some bizarre reason that Legend couldn't place, thought this was hilarious, and cackled.

“Reign it in, loverboy.” Four leaned against the wall. “You still need to warm up, and no one likes to hold a cold hand.”

Legend kicked at his knee. “Watch it,” he threatened, “Or I'll make your lifespan as short as you are.”

A chorus of “oohs” sounded around the room. Four chuckled, patting him on the shoulder. “Cheer up. You'll get your kisses soon.”

Fable howled hysterically, slapping her thigh. Legend could feel how red his face was as Four ran through the smuggest scale he had ever heard. It wasn't even that witty, but Wind was still squeaking like a chipmunk, and of course Sky snorted. Twilight at least was trying his hardest to appear indifferent, but Legend knew how hard it was to keep one's composure when Fable leans on you for support while wheezing directly in your ear.

“Ledge!” Wars hollered from backstage. “Get your sorry backside over here; I want to run through this song with you.”

Legend aimed one last petty kick at Four before standing. He hefted his case and stomped off, pointedly ignoring the way Fable pretended to faint into a scandalized Twilight's arms, crying, “Save me, Mister Hero!”

That shook him more than he'd have liked to admit. He bit his tongue to keep from throttling Fable for making fun of Ravio. Well, even if she hadn't mocked him, he still would've done it. And she still would've deserved it.

Wars watched him approach, his expression neutral. Legend thrust open his case aggressively and jammed the various pieces together. His jaw was tense and he avoided Wars’ gaze.

“Careful,” his brother commented. “You'll scratch her.”

Legend exhaled a controlled breath and quelled the ache in his gut that shouldn't exist in the first place. He suffocated it with thoughts of flats and sharps, of staccatos and tenudos, of the cool metal on his lips and fingertips, and of the notes both painted on the page and burned into his very soul. It was a familiar ritual that helped ease a bit of himself into the music, breathing color into the diverse melodies, rhythms, and even his brothers. It never failed, even when Fable did it with him.

Until today.

Somehow, his thoughts still circled back to his blasted boyfriend. His cheery grin had that same brightness as the sheen on his trumpet. His eyes danced with the same mischief that Sky eased from his bass. His arms would envelop him, soothing in a way that reminded him of playing with his brothers and sister. His tears spoke the same words as an instrument in need of care: always frustrated with himself and never anyone else. His hands- they shook before adversity. Just how Legend's own trembled right then, his mind's eye suddenly brimming with images of hundreds of people, Ravio in the midst of them, staring unsympathetically as his fingers stuttered. 

Legend cursed, his hands dropping to his sides. He flattened himself against the wall, sinking to the floor. Hylia, he could already tell he was going to mess up badly.  He had practiced these songs with the others for weeks, and it was about to mean nothing. To make matters worse, he had a solo. Not any old solo, either, but an improvised solo. Improvising solos was nothing new to him. This stabbing pain was new. It twisted at his heart like a common school bully to a poor victim's shirt. Loneliness (And yes, Farore strike him down, but Fable was right. He was lonely.) had him at its mercy. And now, Ravio was so close. Legend was going to fumble the solo in front of him, and that fear alone blurred his thoughts until he couldn't discern one tangled bundle of nerves from another.

Wars sat down next to him. He laid a hand on Legend's shoulder and asked softly, “Do you want to talk about it?”

Legend shook his head hopelessly. There was nothing he could say that Fable hadn't said already. Besides, with how Wars fixed him with those knowing eyes, he understood better than Legend himself did.

“Breathe with me, alright?” Wars let go of his shoulder, hand gesturing to his chest. Legend didn't have much pride to lose, so he complied. When Wars' chest rose, he breathed in. When it sank, he breathed out. In, two, three, four. Hold… Out, two, three, four. It didn't take much time before Legend grew irritated, thinking that this was taking too long. His time would be better spent practicing! He should be tuning, warming up, looking over his music again, anything! Not some barely effective breathing exercise that his brother only did when Wind was having stage fright, or when Sky struggled through an asthma attack. Or when Wild had a particularly bad flashback. Or when Rulie awoke, screaming, from a nightmare. Did… Did he really look that bad? That distressed?

Wars lifted his trumpet to his lips. “Tune me.”

With that, the sound of the instrument filled the room. Wild’s snare hidden in the corner rattled in complaint. He forced himself to block it out and focus on the note as it wavered in his ears, settling on something just a little off. “Pull it out,” Legend said, nodding to the tuning slide.

Wars adjusted the slide, and the pitch dropped. Well, now it's flat, Legend thought irritably. He pointed upwards. This time, Wars shifted the position of his lips on the mouthpiece, which finally sharpened the tone enough to satisfy the two of them.

“Keep playing.” Legend lifted his own trumpet to his face. He played the same note until they matched, then tested a handful of notes that harmonized with his brother's. There was not a single sign of dissention between the two. What he would give to simplify his emotions like that. 

“Ready?” asked the man beside him. 

“As I'll ever be,” Legend mumbled.

Wars patted him on the back and helped him up. “Remember, it's just like any other performance,” he assured him. “Just keep playing, and you'll do great “

“Thanks,” Legend grunted. 

“Don't worry about it.” Wars smiled. “Let's run through the program. Start on my mark: one, two, ready…”

Wild, Flora, Time and Hyrule returned with dinner. Those who remained behind joined them to eat. The meal was quick, consisting of a tray of sandwiches and a bowl of salad. Legend didn't feel like eating. Everyone, including him, was eager to get back to practice, now as a full band, and they wasted no time in getting to it.

Rehearsal flew by uncomfortably fast. Everything went smoothly, if by smoothly, one meant “absolute disaster”. Oh, everyone else was fine. Legend made too many mistakes. This only gave Fable and Wind more ammo to torment him with, and only after a harsh reprimand from Wars did they stop. He wanted to feel grateful for his intervention, but the seed had already been planted. Now it was performance time, and he couldn't help the sudden panic that attacked him. He hyperventilated. His hands were clammy and they shook uncontrollably. Only Hyrule's calm comfort prevented him from losing control.

“Shhh,” Rulie whispered, rubbing his hands gently. “It'll be okay, Legend, I promise.”

“I can't do it,” he gasped, feeling lightheaded. “I can't go out there.”

“Yes, you can,” Rulie told him forcefully. “You're going out on that stage and you're going to sound amazing.”

“I'm going to mess up,” Legend said, his voice wobbling. “I'm going to ruin the whole performance in front of him-”

“No, you won't,” he interrupted. “And even if you did, his opinion of you won't change. Ravio loves you no matter what.”

Legend didn't respond. Rulie squeezed him in a quick hug and guided him to where the rest of the band waited. “Breathe,” he reminded him.

Time nodded at the two of them. He handed Rulie his bass guitar, who accepted it graciously. “Are you two boys ready?”

“Yup,” Rulie responded confidently.

Wild bared his teeth in a grin, twirling a drumstick in his fingers. “Let's light ‘em up, boys.”

Fable and Wind both whooped, each bodychecking Four. Legend swallowed hard.

With that, they walked onto the stage. Applause immediately assaulted his ears, causing him to wince. He squinted into the spotlights, their dazzling beams glaring daggers into his eyes.  He searched the crowd anxiously, his heart thumping when he couldn't find Ravio. He wanted to slap himself for that. His head yelled at him to just focus. 

Instinctively, he glanced at Rulie. The freckle-dotted face smiled encouragingly, mouthing, “You got this!”

He had to admit, that lifted his spirits, just a little. He took his place at his designated music stand and stared it down, scowling at each note.

“You better not ruin this,” Legend whispered menacingly.

Wars, who had just joined him at the stand, shot him a funny look. “What?”

“Not you,” Legend muttered.

Time stepped up to the microphone. He started his usual introduction, and the crowd quieted to hear his words. Legend hardly listened. His mind was on his sweaty palms. He wiped them on his pants with a soft curse. Did his own body think wringing itself dry of any liquid was going to help him? Brushing his hair out of his eyes also resulted in damp droplets on his fingertips.

“Ledge,” Wars said in a hushed tone, “stop chewing your lip.”

Legend wanted to punch him. He was only trying to help, though, which of course made him want to punch him more. Still, he restrained himself, both from hitting Wars and from giving into his anxious habits.

Cheering announced the end of Time's speech. The old man dipped his head and swept his arm, gesturing at Wild. Wild smiled broadly, raised his drumsticks, and hollered with his typical unhinged energy the usual countdown: “ONE, TWO! ONE, TWO, READY, GO!”

A snap of wood on snare and a plethora of clicks on the hi-hat cracked through the air. Sky plucked an upbeat rhythm on his bass. Hyrule and Wind joined next, hopping from high to low, up and down, badum, badum. Fable’s entrance infused the band with her bright, energetic spirit. She swung and leaped from note to note while the bass drum thrummed in Legend's chest. Fable climbed a scale and Four came in to support her. She hit the top, held it, and cued the rest of the band. Legend was unwillingly swept away by the current of music that was too fast, too quick.

And, of course, thoughts of Ravio came unbidden into his head.

“Do you remember when we first met?” Ravio murmured. “That day in the alley…”

Legend snorted. How could he forget? “Of course I remember.”

He let himself be twirled beneath his partner's arm before once again taking the lead. The two swayed in time with the music amidst the crowd of people, their movements not quite in sync compared to the others. Frankly, he was surprised how natural Ravio made it seem, considering how stiff Legend was. They'd made progress since their first time dancing, and although Legend kept tripping over himself in self-consciousness, they were doing fairly well. 

“All those cultists. You took them out so quickly!” Ravio chuckled. “I wasn't sure if I should've been more scared of you than them.”

“I was sloppy,” Legend muttered. “Too preoccupied with finally looking like the ‘good guy'.”

“Link, I thought I was going to die,” Ravio said seriously. “You were my practical knight in shining armor!”

“A lot of good that did me,” Legend grumbled.

“Hey!” Ravio laughed. “I'm not that bad, am I?”

“I-I didn't mean you,” he said awkwardly. 

“Oh.” Ravio deflated, hesitating. “...Yuga?”

Yuga. Yuga with a knife in his back, pinning him to the wall and tugging at his hair so his ear was to his mouth. He whispered threats while Link strained to breathe through the agony.

“You're not making it out of here alive, little hero,” he hissed. “Say hello to your uncle for me.”

Legend kicked and screamed against the memories. They were choking him, like Yuga all those years ago. The result? He only managed to squeeze out a pathetic handful of right notes. He hid behind Wars’ far more confident sound. Wars sensed what was wrong and covered for his sudden inability to read music.

The only note he really hit right was the last one. No style or soul went into it. He was having enough trouble staying within the key signature.

The audience applauded. Time acknowledged them with a hand.

Legend tugged at his suit. Had it always been this hot? He was overheating. And lightheaded. Was that normal?

“Ledge,” Wars hissed, shoving something cold into his hands. Legend blinked, dazed, at the object- a water bottle. “Water. Drink.”

He didn't have much else to do, so he obeyed. The freezing water was like ice down his throat, shocking him back to reality. He shook away the dizziness and drank more. It burned but was real.

“Breathe,” Wars reminded him for what must've been the fiftieth time that night. “Just hold on. Only two songs. You can do this. Just breathe.”

Why was everyone telling him to breathe? “I have to breathe to play my instrument,” he snarked. 

Wars raised an eyebrow and smiled. “Just like that.”

Before he could come up with a snappy retort, his eyes caught Fable slipping past. She avoided his eyes. Wild handed her his drumsticks and she sat at the drumset. Wild stood by the marimba, casually twirling the mallets in his fingers while Four set aside his tenor for a bari.

Legend paled. Oh. This one, he had forgotten.

This song relied heavily on trumpet to start the band. Fable had no sax to carry the melody.

“Relax,” Wars said sternly. “I'll be here, playing with you.”

Legend pursed his lips and shoved the water bottle back into his brother's hands.

Time finished stalling. It took Legend a moment to realize that Time was not, in fact, waiting for him. He watched for Wild’s, Fable's and Four's signals that they were ready. There was no screaming countdown to start them off this time.

Legend was alone.

He regretted giving Wars his water back. His mouth was dry again. He couldn't seem to swallow. He tried asking for it but the words died on his tongue.

All he had to do was put his lips to the mouthpiece and blow. Din! It shouldn't be this hard!

Twilight waited for him. He was relying on him to cue his part.

Rulie waited for him. His note was essential to harmonize with his counter melody.

Wars waited for him. He only expected him to endure through what little they had left.

“Fight it,” Wars murmured. “Don't let the fear win. You hear me, Link? Fight back.”

“Link? Link, fight it. Wake up!”

Legend gasped for air, greeted by the sight of Ravio's worried eyes fixed on his. Hands were cupping his face, steady and sure. Legend grasped their wrists by instinct, breathing heavily.

“Link, are you alright?” Ravio repeated anxiously. “Can you hear me?”

Legend's eyes darted across the crowded room with the urgency of a frightened prey animal, but when his eyes locked with Ravio's again, his heartbeat slowed. He nodded.

“Do you need some fresh air?” asked the Lolian.

“I- No, I'll be fine,” he said shakily. “Just a flashback.”

“Are you sure? Because we can leave if-”

“No, it's over,” Legend interrupted. “We're not leaving unless you want to.” He inhaled deeply, ignoring his trembling hands.

Suddenly, Ravio's arms were wrapped around him. Legend's breath hitched, his internal screams needlessly reminding him that they were in public!

Legend laughed nervously. “Is there, uh… a specific reason why we're so sentimental all of a sudden?” he coughed awkwardly.

Ravio didn't respond, at first. He buried his face in Legend's shoulder and hummed, “I'm just glad you're here.”

Oh. Well, that was no reason for his face to get so red, was it? So why was his heart beating so quickly? And why did he feel so unreasonably giddy?

Ravio gave him another squeeze before pulling away and continuing the dance. Legend somehow managed to stumble even more than before, but Ravio's bright laugh lightened his mood every time. He supposed this whole dancing thing wasn't too bad.

He was happy to be with Ravio, too.

“Fight it…”

Legend clenched and unclenched his hands. He placed his fingers on the buttons and lips to the mouthpiece. He took one shuddering breath, pouring all he had into his trumpet- all his terror and loneliness and inadequacy. 

What rang out over the stage was a soft, mellow E flat. A single-toned lament. It resonated within his bell before slipping away, eluding his grasp like a hushed whisper of wind.

I miss you, Rav.

It was only when he released the note that he realized that no one else came in. His gaze flitted to Wars. The zeal he found startled him.

“Yes!” Wars’ eyes shimmered with enthusiasm and pride. “Again- C'mon, Legend, you can do it!”

Legend didn't give himself time to think. He hurled himself down the metaphorical leap of faith and howled into the trumpet. 

His brothers answered his call. 

Twilight hummed back, achingly familiar in its mournful cry. Hyrule took on the same tone, grasping it effortlessly but gently, like one would handle an injured animal. Wind's response was frustrated, like him. It was as much of a duet of music as it was a duet of feeling.

Legend released the note, and breathed. He sunk into the hopeful interlude led by Wild and Four. It felt much more real than himself. The sound wound its way into his ears and eased out a puff of air he hadn't realized he had been holding. 

It was startling, realizing that they were all mimicking what he had put into that note. Could it be that he was that obvious that he was pining? Four was the one who had made fun of him earlier. Yet here he was, weaving soft arpeggios of warmth and comfort. What was going on?

Wars poked him, jarring him from his reverie. “The Sailor’s trying to talk to you.”

Legend raised his eyebrows and shot a flat look the trombonist’s way. Really? the look said. In the middle of a performance?

There was a mischievous glint in Wind's eyes. “Solo battle?” he signed.

Legend almost laughed. Keyword: almost. “You mean a call-and-response duet?” he signed back.

“Whatever.” Wind rolled his eyes. “Are you in or not?”

Legend's eyebrows probably joined with his hairline then. “Isn't that in, like, three measures? Are you stupid?”

Wind flipped him off and stuck out his tongue. 

Oh, this twerp was going down. 

Fable jumped into action. Suddenly, the beat was moving at a relentless pace. The marimba perfectly channeled the devious smirk Wind carried. Legend found himself relishing the music again, tapping his foot along with Four's raw power. He bobbed his head in time with the vibrations he felt in his feet, most of which blasted from Time's guitar. He tossed the theme to Wars, who passed it to Four, who handed it to Wind, who promptly threw it to the floor and ground it into dust, laughing exhiliratedly. Normally, the rest of the band had to reel the dynamic in so the soloist could be heard, but most soloists weren't attention hogs like Wind. He would be heard, whether the audience liked it or not.

The Sailor moved with his solo. He tilted left and right, he stuck his slide into the air, and he bounced with each boom of the bass drum. Frankly, the drama of it all was rather obnoxious. It only charged Legend's eagerness to challenge him. There may be no winner in a solo battle, but he was determined to thoroughly beat Wind's ego into the dirt.

Legend waited for the perfect moment. He lifted his trumpet. He eyed the smug sailor out of the corner of his vision, a hint of warning in his posture. Secretly, though, he was excited to see the looks on the band's faces when he came in.

Now!

A visceral growl emitted from his instrument. Wind's head whipped around to face Legend, looking mildly offended. He barely restrained himself from snickering as the boy put a hand on his hip with an expression that looked hilariously reminiscent of Tetra's own pout.

As for the rest of the band… they were surprised, to say the least. Flabbergasted, as Ravio might've put it. Wind was given a fixed number of measures for his solos, and Legend cutting him off most definitely shook them. Four, the ever-reliable musician he was, was the first to regain his senses and improvise a good “backing track” for the others. Wars was ecstatic, and only Legend's lingering self-consciousness kept him from turning around and blasting in his ear. 

“I was just about- You interrupted me!” Wind pretended to look outraged, but frankly, he looked more like an indignant gerbil than anything else.

Legend shrugged. Wind puffed out his cheeks. It only encouraged the rodent illusion, which just added to the growing list of infinitely hilarious things that shouldn't be funny; what was he thinking? Goddesses, what was he doing? He shouldn't be stealing Wind's solo, he was going to make it worse, he was going to ruin it for the kid-

He stumbled. 

His blood had never drained so quickly from his face before. He scrambled to find a note that sounded right. Nothing sounded right! Why couldn't he do anything right? Why-

…Wind was covering for him. He covered up his mistakes by one-upping him, because that's how their solo battles went. Constantly improving on the last turn. Disguising his slip-ups by being better than him, all while pretending that was the plan all along.

Wars leaned over. He chuckled in amusement. “Are you going to just take that, Ledge? Gonna let him win?”

Legend snorted. “You wish this was your solo, pretty boy.”

He let the sailor have his little moment. Let him have his sly smirk and the roaring crowd, because while he practically owed the kid his kidney for saving him like that, it didn't mean he got to keep the spotlight. Even if it meant he had to strangle the butterflies in his stomach to keep them quiet, he would play.

Legend drew in a breath and blasted out the next note. Wind scoffed out a single “Dude!” but Legend overpowered that as well. He pouted again, and, to Legend's surprise, tried to play over him. Though, not really- he was harmonizing with him, forcing the dynamic up or down, and mixing his own energy in, one that Legend could not hope to synthesize. Not that he wanted to. It was a brattish energy, anyway. 

Four was getting louder. He was adding tension, and sending a message to the two of them: their time was coming to a close.

Wind heard it, loud and clear. He pushed against Legend’s melody. Part of him screamed at him to let him have control, to give him the finale, but his pride refused. He stood like a wall before Wind’s grabs at the spotlight. He had glissandos, grace notes, and pitch bends, but so did any half-decent trombone player. Not only could Legend do the same, he also knew exactly how to prod him where it hurt.

Let’s see how high you can go, sailor.

He blocked out the smithy’s warnings and began baiting Wind into a climb. He fell for it, hook line and sinker. B flat? Easy! C sharp? What a joke! He didn’t suspect a thing.

It was when they started to reach the higher portions of the scale that Legend detected some strain in Wind’s tone. He pushed higher. E. Running out of time, said Four. F, A flat. Wind didn’t follow. With a soaring sense of exhilaration, Legend landed the final high B flat. It was an easy victory, but a victory nonetheless.

At least, it was, until Wind hit an entire note higher.

Legend gawked at the cackling sailor. It was too late to make a comeback, the rest of the band had already moved on. Legend rolled his eyes. Just like him to get the last word. He had to laugh, though. Wind looked so proud of himself.

“Bet you aren’t thinking about your boyfriend now, huh?” he gloated.

Legend blinked. Had- Had that all been some grand scheme to get his confidence back? That rat! “I’ll think about wringing your neck!” he retorted angrily.

Unfortunately, he was right. Legend hardly felt any anxiety. Mental note: strangle him when we finish here.

It didn’t take long before the song was over and Wind was bowing theatrically. Legend was out of breath, dehydrated, and on the border of passing out, but he loved it. He felt alive again. He accepted Wars’ water bottle again. He practically emptied it, for how parched his lips were.

“Chapstick?” Wars offered, holding out a stick of his favorite brand.

Legend wrinkled his nose at it. “I’m not touching anything that has been anywhere near your lips.”

“What, like my water bottle?” Wars challenged lightly, waving the chapstick in his face.

“Fine. Gimme that,” he muttered, snatching the small tube from his brother’s fingers. He applied it as quickly as possible before shoving it back in its owner’s hands. He would never admit how useful it was, especially after so long arguing that it was for girls.

He only wished there was such a simple remedy for the ache that was beginning to form around his cheeks. That solo had really taken a toll on his embourchure.

Legend rubbed his face while Four walked by. The smith paused by him, his reddish-brown irises tinged by… guilt? Legend narrowed his eyes.

“That was a good solo back there,” he murmured. “You think you’ll be all right for this one?”

“I’m fine. Why do you care?” Legend responded tightly.

“Hey, look, I’m… I’m sorry. For teasing you.” Four winced. “I should’ve seen how badly it was affecting you. You’ll do great, okay? I mean, if I were Ravio, I’d be impressed regardless, but I know that’s not the reassurance you’re looking for.” 

Legend raised his eyebrows. An apology from the smithy? He knew it was bad, but not that bad.

…No, he shouldn’t make light of it, especially with how seriously Four was taking it. Or how seriously he took it, before the performance. That wasn’t fair.

“It’s not important,” Legend sighed. “I should be the one wishing you good luck. You’re singing.”

“Ha. So I take it we’re even now?” He held out his hand to shake. Legend took it, suppressing a smile.

“Thanks. Now, get lost, Sinatra,” Legend said.

Four chuckled and shook his head. He made his way to the piano just as Time finished up. Fable back on the sax and Wild on the drums, he raised his hand to cue the song.

He dropped it for the last time.

Wild tapped a smooth, bouncy beat on his hi-hat. Fable followed along, surprisingly mild for someone of her disposition. He’d never heard her handle the melody so… gently, before. Usually only Four had that kind of grace with the saxophone. Speaking of Four, the twinkling, playful piano notes complimented that laid-back style very nicely. Legend inserted his cup mute into his bell with a sort of contentment he hadn’t felt since Ravio left.

He had forgotten what it was like to actually enjoy music.

Four’s voice was glad to show him how much he had missed. If Wild and Fable were smooth, the smithy’s voice was like the outside of a fresh apple, ripe and shiny with morning dew. Warm, too, like pie crust.

Legend couldn’t wait to share another apple pie with Ravio.

“Well, here we are again

It’s always such a pleasure…”

Of course, this song wasn’t exactly meant to be cozy and reassuring. Legend was just getting restless.

Wind and Twilight, crescendo with a forte-piano.

An ebb and flow in Fable’s dynamic. Grow, pull back.

Wars counting rests under his breath. Legend felt an itch on the back of his neck. He was impatient, and his constant counting didn’t help.

“Oh, how we laughed and laughed!

Except I wasn't laughing…”

Legend could hear Four's smile. He loved this song. 

Soft falls muted by the cups in their trumpets. Mischievous, like a cat leaping nimbly from one bookshelf to the next. Or like the sailor, sneaking sweets from Legend's stash.

“You want your freedom, take it!

That's what I'm counting on!”

Wind crept into the lead, swaying from one note to the next gracefully. He treated the song like a waltz, but exaggerated comedically in its romance. Ravio swooning dramatically came to mind.

“I used to want you dead, but now I only want you gone!”

The whole band swung into action. Wild slammed on the snares, Fable sang into her sax with a dramatic volume worthy of Wind’s pride while the brass accented the offbeats, finishing with a flourishing trill.

The dynamic dropped. Four retained his eagerness, sounding just as smugly joyful as ever. The sax followed his lead.

“She was a lot like you-”

He chuckled. “Well, maybe not quite as heavy!”

That was Wind's favorite part. It took a considerable amount of effort not to snicker at the combined force of the lyric and the smithy's delivery.

Another band-wide crescendo, led by trumpets. Glittering piano notes followed, dancing daintily in Legend's ears. 

“One day they woke me up

So I could live forever

It's such a shame the same could never happen to you!”

Four's voice swelled brightly, leading the band from a mezzo-piano to a forte. Fable acted like this was her solo, announcing her counter melody to the whole audience. Wild mimicked the accents Wars and Legend made with a crash on the cymbals. He was having just as much fun as Four was. 

“I'll let you get right to it-

Now I only want you gone!”

The rest of the band dropped away, allowing the piano and the drums to lead as Four began his monologue. Legend bit his lip. His solo was just around the corner. He grabbed Wars’ water bottle again and stole a quick sip. 

At Four's “Take it away!”, his brothers took the lead. 

Legend hardly paid attention to the rise in energy. This was it. He promised Ravio a good show. After that trick Wind played on him back in the last song, he intended to follow through. 

Here!

He climbed into his solo. He imitated Four's languid ease with Wind's cocky eagerness to show off in the little slurs and tremolos he slipped into the solo. His heart pounded viciously against his chest. He went from note to note with little flourishes that were subtle but painted with just enough color to give it life. Thank Farore for Sky's bass, keeping him in time while his fingers itched to go faster than he had the ability to. But he kept it smooth and lilting as he repeated the melody of the chorus-

And just like that, it was over. His solo, finished. Audience clapping excitedly at the performance. Fable easing the band into a soft dynamic before dropping away completely. Before he knew it, Sky was playing his own solo while Four sang along:

“Goodbye my only friend…

Oh, ha, did you think I meant you?

This song really fit Four, Legend thought vaguely. Quick-witted, mischievous, and laid-back. Maybe  even a little arrogant. 

Had he really just done that? Had he really just pulled off that solo like it was just an everyday warm up scale, after all his anxiety just put him through? He snorted softly with incredulous indignance. 

It shouldn't have been that easy. But it was.

Wild's cue! Legend snapped dizzily back to attention. Neither he nor Wars were coming in any time soon, but he had to be ready. He listened in on Wars’ counting and quickly found his spot in the rest.

“Well, you have been replaced

I don't need anyone now…”

Again, Fable’s time to shine. Crescendo. Getting bigger, louder louder louder, play, support Fable, louder louder, howl out your part until you're faint from using too much air. Legend's lungs felt ready to burst, his lips burned. 

“Go make some new disaster!

That's what I'm countin’ on!”

He could do it. He could reach the end of the song. The light was at the end of the tunnel. The light was in his eyes, he had shifted too far to the left and now a spotlight was beaming directly into them, he kept playing.

“You're someone else's problem; now I only want you gone!”

Keep playing, it's almost done, just two more lines and he could see Ravio-

“Now I only want you gone!”

Ravio, had he seen the solo? Was he even here yet?

“Now I only want you gone!”

Focus, finish off strong.

“Now I only want you gone-!”

Four sustaining the note, steady, swing into the accent, hold hold hold, drop down low-

“I want you gone!”

With that, the band pulled back, Wars finished the song with a flaunting swing and grace note, Wild thumped his bass.

Done. Finished. Over. No more. He finished the song, and he hadn't messed up.

And the crowd went wild. 

Time bowed. He gestured to the soloists- him and Sky and Four. They dipped their heads, Four with significantly less humility. Legend licked his lips as he stared at his feet. He felt like he had just run a marathon.

A poke on his shoulder. Legend straightened his back. He followed Wars' outstretched finger, past Time's hand showing him off as a soloist, and- oh.

There he was. Standing in the middle of the audience, clapping his hands eagerly. His adoptive sister was beside him, but Legend's eyes never left the man for a second.

“Ravio,” he whispered.

He moved without thinking. He pushed his trumpet into his brother's hands. Wars gawked as he leaped off the stage and into the rows of chairs. Heart racing so quickly he feared it might escape, he ran up the aisle. 

There he was. Right there, grinning from ear to ear, calling out his name with a voice too soft to be heard over the crowd. Goddess d— him. That insufferable smile. It had no right to make him feel this way. So unfairly happy.

The rest was a blur. Ravio wrestled his way to the aisle, Legend only increased his breakneck pace; Ravio beamed, laughing his name, and they collided.

Ravio's arms squeezed him tight, twirling him around like the couples in those cheesy romance movies. Even as his feet planted on the ground, Legend didn't want to let go. He wanted to make sure this stupid rabbit never left his sight again.

Ravio pulled away, holding his face with the gentlest hands, grinning through teary eyes. “I take it you missed me, Mister Hero?” he chuckled.

By the Three, now he was crying. “Of course I missed you, you idiot!” he choked out.

“I missed you too,” Ravio breathed. 

He leaned forward and the last bit of Legend's restraint crumbled. His lips crashed against Ravio's before he could draw out the moment any longer, his hand reaching to tangle with his partner's smooth, inky locks. Ravio let out a tiny squeak of surprise before leaning into the kiss.

Legend's lips buzzed; he couldn't tell if the sensation came from his trumpet or Ravio. He couldn't care less. His mind was on Ravio's soft hands, on his tender touch, on the ghost of a smile he could feel through the kiss. 

Legend's heart had climbed up his throat by the time it was over. He noted vaguely that the audience was roaring and clapping, and that Fable's voice boomed over the speakers, hollering, “That's my brother!” Meanwhile, he couldn't decide whether to punch Ravio or let the tears flow. He swallowed hard, his eyes locking on Ravio's rupee-green ones.

“You kiss like you've been playing trumpet for an hour,” he teased.

Legend's face flushed red. “Shut up,” he grumbled.

“Aw, I didn't mean it,” he giggled, squishing him in another hug. “I just missed seeing your grumpy face.”

“You're the worst.”

“Don't get too sappy, you two.” Legend whipped around, greeted by Ravio's boss herself. Hilda, with a cocked eyebrow and folded arms, dressed in a blazer and skirt not unlike Fable's slightly more masculine suit. Her violet-painted lips twitched upwards in amusement. “You'll make the audience gag on their lunches.”

“I think I'm gagging on my lunch,” Legend complained.

Ravio gasped in mock offense, but Hilda shrugged. “Your sister does seem to be enjoying this…”

Legend glanced over at the stage and groaned. Of course she was. Of course she was hopping up and down in ecstasy, shaking poor, helpless Four back and forth while screaming with Wind. Of course she had to rope Sky and Wars into it- and was that Rulie cheering with them? Well, now Legend felt extra betrayed.

Warm fingers lacing with his drew his attention back to his partner. Ravio squeezed his hand and smiled. Legend had to wrestle his own into a disapproving scowl before he could see it.

“What do you say we put your trumpet away and go out for dinner?” he proposed. “That way we could get some time alone to relax and catch up some way other than over text?”

Legend folded his arms. “So, you expect me to forgive you, just like that? After being gone so long?”

Ravio laughed nervously. “If you wouldn't mind?”

“I suppose I can give you another chance,” he muttered. “And I'm paying. Yes, Hilda, I know you paid for everything back there.” He waved dismissively, then eyed Ravio out of the corner of his eye. “I'll let him hold on to his rupees just this once. Now excuse me while I go murder my sister.”

He dipped his head politely to the businesswoman before dashing off to the stage. He leaped up, much to Wind's delight and Time's resigned disappointment, and jabbed a finger at Fable. She squealed and hid behind Four, who sighed and stepped aside. 

“You!” Legend barked. “Get over here before I break your reeds!”

Fable gaped dramatically. “You wouldn't!”

“I will!”

“Whoa there, Ledge,” Wars said lightly. “Save the death threats for when the instruments are away, hm?”

Legend sniffed, swiping his trumpet from his hands and not-so-subtly emptying his spit valve on his foot. Wars yelped and jumped hilariously. “Legend!” he swore. “That's disgusting!”

“I bet it tastes like your lipstick,” he snarked.

Fable snickered. Legend brandished his trumpet threateningly and said, “What, you want some too?”

His sister screeched and ran off backstage. Legend made to pursue her, but Twilight gave him a look. He wrinkled his nose and dusted off his suit. She wasn't worth the trouble, anyway. 

He decided to make his way offstage to delicately take apart his instrument. He had a date to prepare for! Fable could wait.

Besides, he had plenty of time to daydream of revenge on the way out.

Legend grinned devilishly. She won't know what hit her.

He left the building whistling cheerfully.

----

A/N: Thank you for reading, but I do have to add a disclaimer. Please, please, please do not jump off a stage like Legend did. The last time someone did that at my school, they broke their ankle. I repeat, do not jump off a stage. 

Take care, all of you! ❤️

[bitchinbarzal]

five more minutes | luke hughes

summary; I liked this song so it’s a song fic!

-

Eight years old, couple cane poles sittin' down by the creek

Lines in the water watchin' those bobbers, seein' that red sun sink

Mama's on the porch yellin', "Supper's hot, y'all come and get it"

We yelled, "Five more minutes"

“y/n, luke c’mon you too! Dinners getting cold!” Ellen shouted down the yard to the dock where you both sat watching the fish.

“Five more minutes mom!”

“You can come back out after but you’ve gotta eat!” She demanded and the two groaned, standing from their sports and marching up the garden to the table where everyone else waited for them.

“About time, I’m starving!” Jack moaned, finally able to eat his burger.

“Yeah we had to wait for you Lukey and your girlfriend” Quinn taunted.

Their dad gave both of them a stern look “Knock it off you two, you’re making poor y/n uncomfortable”

You smiled, burger in hand and ketchup smeared on your cheek “It’s okay I’ve got brothers too and they suck also”

The two choked on their food and Jim let out a laugh “She’s funny, I think she’ll fit right in here”

After dinner it was getting dark.

“Mom we’re going down to the dock again!” Luke announced

“I don’t think so you two, it’s late and y/n sweetheart your mom will be wanting you home soon”

“five minutes? Please mom?” Luke begged

“Okay five minutes and I mean it! No chancing it remember you’re still only eight young man” she kissed his forehead and let you go.

At sixteen it was 12:03 standin' at her front door

Katie's dad said midnight, but we needed just a little more

Yellow light flippin' on and off, interruptin' that goodnight kissin'

We wanted five more minutes

“Twelve o’clock you return my daughter Hughes” is what your dad said when luke picked you up for your date.

“Yes sir, twelve o’clock like the past eight years we’ve been friends” he made a playful jab but your dad didn’t laugh

“Well you weren’t dating her then, it’s different criteria now”

Your date was perfect, he’d taken you to the fair and it was just carefree. It was very You.

Luke landed you on the porch at 11:57, before the cut off.

You stood in front of him on the porch, hands cradling his “I had a lot of fun tonight, thanks Lu”

“Anything for my girl” he smiled, brushing the hair from your eyes behind your ears.

You watched his eyes as Luke’s head slowly dipped down and right before he was going to kiss you…

the porch lights began flickering

You both groaned simultaneously

The door opened and your dad mumbled “twelve o three kid, you’re late”

“Five more minutes sir?” He almost begged and you gave a pleading look.

“Fine but I’m deducting ten the next time you take her out!”

At eighteen, turned my helmet in and walked to the fifty-yard line

Just the coach and me after we lost eighteen to nine

And I cried, "Man, next time to get in here, I'll have to buy a ticket

Can't you give me five more minutes?"

They had returned from Florida, unsuccessful once again.

Everyone was moping around and making calls — the calls. Mackie and Duke never even left Florida, Luke and Eddy had to pack their stuff in a box and ship it out to Florida.

Luke found himself at the brunt end of phone calls from Jack, Nico, the organization. He just wanted to breathe.

He found himself in Yost on a Friday night all alone.

He sat in one of the seats, it felt weird he’d never sat here before.

He stared at the ice thinking of all the memories; his first goal, his team, his first hattrick.

“It’s weird to sit alone in the dark you know?” Your voice broke him out of his thoughts, turning to see you on the concourse.

“What are you doing here?”

“I had to grab my camera from the media room I’ve got an interview with Mackie tomorrow about signing that I need it for” you explained, sitting in the seat next to him and dropping your head onto his shoulder.

“Whatcha thinking about?”

“The next time i wanna get in here, I’ll have to buy a ticket” he mumbled.

“I’ll get you in, media perks and all that” you joked and he chuckled only lightly

“I’m serious y/n, I feel like I wasn’t even in college two seconds now suddenly everyone’s trying to pull me out I just need five more minutes!” He snapped, frustratedly sitting forward.

Your hand rested on his back and you kissed him shoulder “You’ve got all the time in the world baby, I’m here when you’re ready”

He looked up at you, eyes red and strained “Can we have five more minutes?” He looked towards the ice and you nodded.

You both took off downstairs and got on skates before headed off doing calm laps of the ice, hand in hand.

“I wish we were kids in the dock again” Luke grumbles, turning to face you and skate backwards.

You smile “We gotta grow up sometime kid”

The lights turn on and catch both of your attention. Reggie, the cleaning guy stands ice side “you kids gotta go!”

“Five more minutes?” You ask, a soft smile on your face and he shrugs “Only five! And because you’re my favourite!”

please give us five more minutes?

You sobbed and sobbed into his hoodie, gripping onto him for dear life “Baby I’ve gotta go”

“No not yet” you cried.

“You said that last time, I promise you it’s going to be fine” he pulled you away from his body and looked you in the eyes “you’ll be in jersey with me in no time”

You pouted, sniffling “just give me five more minutes”

“My flights boarding” he states, checking his watch.

You lean forward, wrapping your arms around him and sniffling into his chest “I love you Lu, I’m so proud of you”

“I know love, my biggest fan always but I do really have to go” he urges, pulling you away from his body and holding your face.

You lean up and kiss him before mumbling “You’ve got to walk away now Luke because if you don’t I won’t let you go”

“Okay I’m going” with one last kiss

You step back under Mark’s arm watching Luke walk through the airport and begin crying again. Mark rubs up and down your arm “He’ll be great y/n”

“We just needed five more minutes”

[atlasscrumpit]

Could you do moon knight as dads reacting to you being bullied at school? Maybe yandere? Anyways ily and I read your fics daily, it's so unhealthy 😭‼️

Extreme measures

(hope you like it, dear!)

Marc was hesitant about letting you go to school, but he knew you needed it.

You needed to learn and more importantly have some friends your own age.

You were getting ready for your first day and you were both nervous.

"Now, I know they don't allow phones but I want you to keep this hidden in your backpack incase of an emergency. And, wear this watch, it has a tracker so I always know where you are." Marc said as he secured the watch around your wrist.

"I know this is scary, but you need to be good for me and uts only three days a week for five hours. I know you'll be able to handle it." Marc said as he kissed your forehead, making you smile softly.

"Love you." You muttered as he smiled and ran his hand over your face.

"I love you too, darling."

--

Marc waited patiently but nervously outside of your school with all the other parents.

He finally saw you and breathed a sigh of relief.

You ran towards him and hugged him tightly.

"Oh, sweetheart. I missed you so much." He whispered as he held you tightly.

On the walk home you told him everything about your day.

You had told him that some of the other kids were confused why you didn't have a mother, he kept in mind that he would have to make sure you weren't bullied for it.

Overall Marc saw it as a success, you seemed happy after your first day.

But, it didn't last long.

After week two you had come out and hugged Marc, instantly breaking down in tears in front of everyone.

Kids laughed and he made a note of their parents so if Jake wanted to kill anyone he had a list for him.

When you got home he cradled you in his arms while you cried.

"Why don't you give it one more week and school and if you really don't want to go anymore we can homeschool you. How does that sound, baby? I'll even get Khonshu to watch over you." He said as you chuckled a little and nodded.

--

After Marc had struck a deal with Khonshu, no one had ever bullied you again and you loved school. And everyone loved you. (because they were too afraid to not love you)

Jake hadn't had to kill anyone.

Not yet anyway.

[jazzthatonewriterchick]

Hit ‘Em Up! (18+ Fic)

Pairing: Cowboy!Gojo Satoru x Cowboy!Geto Suguru x Black!Cowgirl!Reader (Slow Burn/Enemies to Lovers)

Synopsis: You get to meet Geto & Gojo the Gunslingers, the notorious outlaws that have every town and law enforcement in a twist, when your bum-ass BF offers you as payment to avoid going to prison. Little do they know that this is only a part of your plan to get what you desire. But when you realize that the infamous gun-slinging, smooth-talking cowboys could be everything you want and more when they offer you a deal to team up with them, will you successfully be able to go through with it? 

Warnings: Smutty Smut; 18+ (MINOS GTFO); poly!SatouSugu; Reader is Black & Fem; Mention of other JJK characters; Porn with Plot; Tragic Backstories; T/W for Childhood Trauma, Parental Death, Violence, Panic Attacks & Torture; Angst/Hurt/Comfort; Hand Kink; Masturbation; Voyeurism; Gay Sex; Polyamorous; Double Deepthroat; Mutual Oral; Fingering; CMNF; Spitroast; Riding; Unprotected PiV Sex; Creampies; Outside/Public Sex; Shotgunning; Multiple Positions; Spit Kink; Facials; MDom/fsub Undertones; Aftercare

Disclaimer: I own none of the characters mentioned in this fic. However, as this is my writing, I do not give permission for my work to be reposted on any other sites that are not from my own accounts. Thank you!

Writer's Note: I wanna take this time to thank everyone for continuing to read & support this story. I can't begin to express my gratitude & love for all of you! I feel like the updates for his story have been lacking a bit since I've been in school. Now I'm starting work this week, I'm afraid I'll become slower w/ updates, but I won't give up on his story. I love it so much. Even if it takes me till December to finish it, I WILL. I hope y'all enjoy! -Jazz

Chapters: One. Two. Three. Four. Five. Six. Seven. Eight. Nine. Ten. Eleven. Twelve. Thirteen. Fourteen. Fifteen. Sixteen. Seventeen. Eighteen PT I & II. Nineteen. Twenty. Twenty-One. Twenty-Two. Twenty-Three. Epilogue. Soundtrack.

********

FOURTEEN: SWEET MEDICINE.

You wake up the next morning to a blinding light. 

At first, you think the snake bite got you and you’ve officially entered the afterlife, but then you hear Gojo’s voice. He is laughing and singing, his voice loud and off-key. You also hear the sound of running water. 

Once your eyes adjust, you find yourself lying beneath the trees in the same spot you feel asleep in. You slowly sit up, naked underneath your blanket and your foot elevated. You’re not in any kind of pain from the bite. Surprisingly enough, you don’t feel anything, but that doesn’t scare you like it should. 

Instead, you feel thirsty. You have a burning in your throat that can only be quenched with water. Any normal human being would simply go get water, so you do just that, not even paying any mind to the fact that you’re completely buttnaked. The early morning summer breeze cools your balmy skin as you walk through the forest, following the sound of the running water and Gojo’s awful singing. 

When you finally make it to your destination, all thoughts of water suddenly leave you at the sight of your partners in crime soaking in the water. The trees have given away to a beautiful creek and waterfall where cool, refreshing-looking water rushes freely down into the creek Geto and Gojo occupy. The water luckily hits their waist, so you don’t see anything below. 

You stand behind a tree with a thick tree trunk, shamelessly watching the outlaws scrub their arms and legs, sinewy with muscles and fine hair, with handmade soap and fern from pine leaves. Gojo faces you, his pecs and stomach glistening with water, while Geto has his big, muscular back to you.

“Would you please stop singin’ that song?” he groans, exasperated. “Other songs other than “Texas Hold ‘Em” exist, Satoru.” 

Gojo laughs, his blue eyes glistening in the sunlight. “But it’s the only song that matters right now!” he protests. “Don’t act like it ain’t catchy!” He continues to sing, his voice echoing among the empty forest, as loud as the rushing water. 

Geto shushes him, splashing him. “Keep your voice down! She’s probably still…” Gojo suddenly goes quiet, his eyes meeting yours across the way from where you stand. Geto turns around, his eyes aglow at the sight of you. “Oh, never mind.” 

“Hey, you!” Gojo cheerily says, breaking out into a smile. “You woke up just in time! We’re almost done if you want a dip. How’s that foot doin’?” You don’t answer, instead silently staring at them. You greedily drink in their bodies, hardened and scarred by years of their outlaw lifestyle. 

“Y/N?” Geto blinks at you, confused and worried about you not talking. Holding his beautiful, mahogany eyes with yours, you slowly reveal yourself to him and Gojo, stepping into the sunlight. Their lips part and their eyes widen at the sight of your naked body. 

Slowly, you stumble towards them, but Geto quickly reaches over and stops you, his arms blocking you from walking any further into the creek. “Whoa, whoa, wait,” he protests. “What are you doin’, little miss?” 

You twist toward him in his arms, smiling at the way the sunlight sparkles in his eyes. He’s so handsome. “You look so good,” you sigh. “I want you…want you to fuck me now.” Your hands trail down his chiseled chest, down his stomach, and farther down, down down— 

Geto quickly grabs your wandering hands, stopping you from moving down any further. “Hold on just a sec,” he says. “W-We can’t–” 

“He can join too,” you add, nodding at a shocked Gojo watching from afar. “I can handle two of y’all. Just let me show you…” You lean in towards the black-haired outlaw, your eyes trained on the same lips you felt on your body last night. 

“Wait, Y/N, stop,” he firmly says. His expression is hard, but worried. “Don’t do this.” You take that as a sign of rejection. He doesn’t want you. Suddenly, you feel burned and your lip wobbles as a random rush of tears begins to break. “Don’t you want me?” you sniffle. “Don’t you…” 

A sudden wave of nausea stops you from talking and you press a hand to your forehead, suddenly light-headed. Geto presses a hand to your back, rubbing it gently. 

“Y/N?” he questions. 

You open your eyes to look at two of them, but find there to be four, spinning and whirling and mixing into one another. “There’s four of you,” you giggle, gripping Geto’s forearms. “I-I feel funny.” 

That’s the last thing you say before you feel yourself lose your head and fatigue fall over you. Your knees crumble and you go limp in Geto’s arms. “Y/N!” Geto shouts, that being the last thing you hear as darkness overtakes you. 

*********

The next time you wake up, you see another blinding light. Now you really think you’re dead. 

“Oh, good,” an unfamiliar, deep voice says. “You’re awake. I was so sure you wouldn’t wake up at all.” 

When your eyesight adjusts, you turn your head to your head to find a handsome blonde man sitting in an armchair reading a book and drinking coffee. A white lab coat drapes over his blue button-up and slacks underneath, glasses perched on his nose. You squint at him, unsure of why he seems so familiar to you. 

When you see his eyes, that night at the train tracks comes rushing back to you. You sit up immediately. “It’s you!” you exclaim. “What are you doin’ here?” Once you do sit up, you regret it and press a hand to your pounding head. 

Nanami smiles at you, closing his book. ‘Well, you’re in my infirmary,” he chuckles. “Welcome back to the land of the living, Ms. Y/N.” 

Infirmary? Now that your vision has cleared more, you take a look around the strange room: polished wooden floorboards, butter yellow walls, and a wooden nightstand where a covered bowl of fruit and a glass of water sit. You sit in a comfortable bed surrounded by machines, including an IV in your wrist. These machines and the paper gown you wear prove Nanami’s words correct. 

Nanami rises from his seat, places his book on his chair, and walks to the window. “Where am I?” you ask. “I mean, other than in your infirmary.” He twists the blinds open, hitting you with rays of sun and a sight of apple trees blossoming with pink flowers outside your window. “Willow Springs,” he answers. “Your friends brought you here about three days ago. They rode like hell to get you here after you–” 

“Wait, wait,” you cut in, your eyes widening at the newfound information. “I’ve been here for three days?” Nanami nods, closing the blinds the minute you begin to rub your temples. 

You try to backtrack your steps and remember the last time you were conscious. You see flashes of the Devil’s Trail and its hot, sandy trails; the snake lashing at your ankle; the starry night sky; Gojo and Geto’s eyes. They’re all just flashes. No clear, cut memories you can focus on. “Why the hell can’t I remember nothin’?!” you exclaim. “Why can I–oh, my head hurts.” 

Your head feels like it’s about to explode with how hard it’s pounding. Not to mention how parched you are. As if reading your mind, Nanami passes you the glass of water along with the bowl of fruit. “Relax, eat and take a sip.” 

You do as he says and take a long sip of the water before taking off the lid on the bowl and popping a strawberry into your mouth. The sweet, juicy, tarty taste of the berry explodes onto your tongue and you tingle with pleasure. Nanami watches you from afar, arms crossed. 

Then he begins to relay more information to you: “After you were bit by that snake, the venom had a prolonged spread, meanin’ that it didn’t spread as quickly in the first few hours after you got bit. But after some time, probably during the night into the next morning, it slowly spread throughout your veins. Your immune system couldn’t fight the toxins, so that’s why you fainted at some point and were unconscious for so long.” 

He comes over to the end of the bed and takes hold of the warm cotton blanket covering you. “Brace yourself,” he says before peeling back the blanket to reveal your foot. 

You gape in horror at your foot tightly wrapped in bandages, your toes slightly red and peeking out of the handmade boot. “Oh, my God,” you gasp. “Look at my toenails!” They are black as if some kind of fungus has formed underneath them. 

“Those will clear up with the antibiotics I’ve been givin’ you,” Nanami explains. “As I said before, the Gunslingers rode like hell to get you here and immediately made a call to me to ask for help. Since you’ve been out, I’ve been takin’ care of you.” 

You blink up at the doctor, your heart fluttering at the mention of the Gunslingers. They brought you here? “They thought you were dead when they brought you in,” Nanami solemnly continues. “If they would’ve waited a day longer to bring you here, you would’ve been.” 

You don’t even want to think about that. “Where are they?” you ask. “Where’s my horse?” 

“All stayin’ at a bed and breakfast ten minutes away for the time being while you recover,” the doctor replies. “They’ve been visitin’ you daily, so they’ll be happy to know that you’ve awakened.” 

Once again, your stomach flaps and flutters like a jar full of butterflies at the mention of the gunslinging duo. Not only did they rush to bring you here while you were on the brink of death, but they also have been visiting you. You sip your water to hide how much this affects you. “Well, thank you for the help, Kento,” you say, “but I need to–” 

“I’m sorry, but you can’t go anywhere just yet,” Nanami interrupts, his tone soft but firm. You blink at him, confused. “You’ll have to rest at least for another week and gradually move on to walkin’ again. But you will walk.” 

You gape at him, wondering if he’s deadass. A week?! You can’t afford to lose a week of lying about when your target is out there somewhere…and probably looking for you. “Listen, I can’t be here right now,” you sternly argue, peeling back the blanket. “I have someone after me. Benji the Bandit–” 

“Doesn’t know you’re here,” Nanami says, putting the blanket back on you. “And before you ask, yes, our sheriff knows you and the Gunslingers are here, but he agreed to keep you here until you’ve recovered and as long as you don’t cause trouble. I doubt you’ll do much of that on that foot.” 

He nods down at your tightly wrapped foot that could scare even the hardest man alive. You sigh, realizing he’s right. You can’t do anything right now. “Thank you,” you say. “I mean it and…I’m sorry I’m so paranoid.” 

You feel embarrassed for acting the way that you do. Suddenly, you remember Geto’s words that he said to you on the Devil’s Trail: “You’re too hellbent…too reckless…” 

You wither with shame, realizing that he’s right. The reason you were put on those train tracks and bitten by that snake is all because of you and your stupid decisions. Maybe a week stuck in a bed is exactly what you need. Maybe it’s God’s way of telling you, “Slow the fuck down, my child!” 

Nanami shrugs, looking like it couldn’t bother him less. “Don’t mention it. I told you already that this town respects what you and the Gunslingers do for those who’ve been victimized by troubled folk.” You smile, feeling good about that. You didn’t realize so many people respected you other than feared you. 

The door suddenly creaks open and a young man with fluffy, pink hair and a bright smile pokes his head in. “Oh, she’s awake!” he says. “Mr. Nanamin, there’s an old couple downstairs who wants to see you, sir!” 

Nanami nods, already walking to the door. “Thank you, Itadori.” The pink-haired boy’s smile grows wider and he pops out of frame. “Excuse me for a moment,” Nanami says, taking his glasses off and placing them in his coat pocket. “Help yourself to the rest of the fruit.” 

He then closes the door and leaves you alone to your own devices. You sit there and chomp on the sliced apples, oranges, and strawberries before you hear the door creak open once more. “She’s right in here,” Nanami whispers. “Just please be gentle with her. She looks like she’s had a rough journey.” 

Your heart leaps, thinking that it’s the Gunslingers coming to see you. Though these visitors aren’t, your heart still pounds as fast as a hummingbird’s wings at the sight of the old couple standing before you. 

The woman wears a floral blue dress and matching flats, her silver hair that you remember always playing with when you were younger tied into a long braid going down her back. Her face has more lines than before, aged with time, but she still has those loving brown eyes that remind you of those chocolate chip cookies she used to bake you, warm and sweet. 

She covers her mouth at the sight of you, her eyes glassy and the gold band on her ring finger gleaming. It’s nice to know that after all this time, they are still together. “Y/N,” she tearfully sobs. “Oh, my darlin’, it’s really you!” 

You feel tears begin to push past your eyes too when you recognize them. “Mama,” you whisper. “Papa.” 

Her husband, who has more prominent lines and wrinkles in his face, takes his cowboy hat off of his head, showing off the same salt-and-pepper hair that he has on his chin. He wears a flannel and slacks with a corduroy jacket that you remember him always wearing. 

“Sweetheart,” he gasps. “Thank God, you’re okay! We’ve been worried sick about you, my love!” 

Mr. Eren and Mrs. Yuri Tokyoami immediately rush to your bed and stand on either side of it. They don’t touch you immediately, too afraid of startling you or possibly accidentally ripping out a wire, but they still take your hands in either of yours, gripping them tightly. 

You can’t believe it. You can’t believe your parents are here after all this time. “How’d you find me?” you ask, shocked. 

“We’re year-long patients of Dr. Nanami,” Yuri explains. “Your father needed his knee fixed years ago and we mentioned him to you.” You look at Nanami who only smiles, silently watching by the door. 

“Minus the outlaw part,” Eren chuckles, placing his hat at the foot of the bed. “I guess he put the pieces together once you were here and he called us immediately. We moved here three years after you left ‘cause the taxes got too high. After I sold the old farm and Yuri’s apprentice took over the bakery, we bought a much bigger farm here a couple of miles down the road.” 

The gears in your head turn slowly, processing all of this newfound information, but when your dad tells you that they moved to Willow Springs three years after you left home, you pause. “Y-You’ve been livin’ here this whole time?” you shakily ask. 

He nods, his expression confused. He doesn’t understand. He can’t understand. Neither one of them could ever. 

For so long, you’ve been wondering where they are and if they still lived in Elden’s Valley. You resisted the urge to go home, to call, or to even write a letter. You wondered if they still missed you or if they were still looking for you…if they even remembered you. 

And here they are now, aged with time and yet still so full of the same love they had for you years ago when they found you in that cart of flowers. 

You burst into tears again, covering your face. Yuri places a hand on your back, comforting you. Then you feel both of their arms around you, finally being embraced by the people you love most. “I’m sorry,” you sob. “I would’ve sent a letter or called if I knew, but I couldn’t–” 

“Honey, we know,” Yuri coos, caressing your hair. “We’ve seen you in newspapers and on those ‘Wanted’ posters. All we could do was pray for you to be safe and to one day come back to us.” 

To hear that be made perfectly clear to you—that they never forgot you—makes you cry even harder. “I’ve done so many things!” you cry. “Papa, I-I’ve–” 

“Hush now, darlin’,” he shushes you, pressing your head into his chest. He smells of tobacco and mint like he always has. “You’re still our little girl. Our flower, no matter what you’ve done in life. We could never be disappointed in you, my love.” 

You clutch his jacket and cry, cry, cry, letting all of your pain and longing come up to the surface. And at some point, Nanami leaves the room to give you time alone with your family who cry with you. 

*******

 That night, after your parents leave you to head back home, you spend the night in Nanami’s infirmary where you’re visited by two ghosts of your very recent past. 

Those ghosts being Geto and Gojo the Gunslingers. You’re chomping down on your dinner of assorted fruits, a spring salad, and green tea (Nanami insisted you eat light for now) when you hear a sudden knock at the door. Nanami has retired to his home, leaving the overnight staff to watch over you. 

You turn, expecting to see one of his aids or nurses there, but your stomach flips when you see Gojo standing there in his cowboy attire, hat and boots included. He only thing different with him are the sunglasses he has on instead of his blindfold. He looks like the fourth blind mouse with them on, but you also find them endearing. 

“Well, look who decided to join the land of the livin’ again,” he jokes. He takes the glasses down, giving you a peak of his blue eyes. “Did a bad dream wake ya, little miss?” 

Geto slides through behind him, taking his black cowboy hat off while Geto keeps his on. His hair is tied into a ponytail, the simple yet sexy hairstyle accentuating his handsome face. “It’s good to see you up, Y/N,” he sighs, sounding relieved. “We were worried.” 

They walk farther into the room, Geto taking a seat in the chair beside your bed while Gojo leans against the wall near the window. You sit up in the bed, feeling slightly embarrassed for them to see you in such a state. You can tell that Geto is genuine too when he says they were worried and you think back to Nanami telling you how hard they rode to get you here. 

“Thank you,” you softly say. Gojo smiles, happy to hear you talking. “We’ve got another visitor here to see ya.” He peels back the curtains to the window and raps lightly on the glass. 

A familiar, long face with big, black eyes and a silky fur appears behind the glass, staring at you. “Reneigh, darlin’!” you joyfully shout. As if hearing you, her ears wiggle.  “We’ve been takin’ care of her while you recovered,” Gojo explains. “Just brushin’ her and braidin’ her hair. She’s a sweetheart.” 

Hearing that they’ve been caring for your horse while you were unconscious makes your heart flutter. You pass it off as being grateful for their generosity. You take. sip of your tea, breathing in the steam, herbs, and lemon. “Nanami told me y’all visited me while I was out.” 

Gojo nods, moving to pick an orange slice out of your fruit bowl without asking. You let him do it. “Had to make sure you were okay,” he says like it’s so obvious. “Y’know, we thought you were already dead when we brought ya here. You felt like a limb noodle.” 

“Well, snake venom will do that to ya,” you chuckle. The duo laughs along with you. “Y’all met my parents too, apparently.” Geto’s eyes light up with recognition. “Oh, the farmer and his sweet wife?” he asks. You nod, inwardly cringing as you remember your parents mentioning the two while they were here. 

While Yuri was rather happy about the idea of the two being your friends, Eren was less than approving. “You’re friends with the Gunslingers?” he asked, sounding extremely perturbed by the idea. Yuri laid a hand on his arm, calming him. “Eren, honey, they saved her life,” she argued. “And they were so nice to us!” 

You gaped up at them, almost dropping your glass of water. “Y’all met them?” you gasped. 

Yuri nodded, smiling fondly. “Oh, they’re such gentlemen,” she gushed. “They came here to visit you at the same time as us one day and we learned that they rode ya in here. Such sweet men, they are.” You still gape at her starry-eyed expression, the gears in your head slowly turning. Geto and Gojo met your parents? 

Eren grunts indifferently. “They may be sweet, but they’re still wanted outlaws.” 

In that moment, you see yourself in him like you’re looking in a mirror. You would have said this same thing months ago before you met Geto and Gojo. All outlaws were the same to you…until them. And you need to defend them. “And so am I, Papa,” you argued, placing your hand on his bigger, wrinkled one. “They don’t kill innocents. They go after evil people, just like me!” 

“And they saved her life,” Yuri added, her eyes loving yet firm as they stared into her husband’s. “Just give ‘em a chance, dear. Y/N did and they seem very happy together.” She turned to you, still starry-eyed and excited. “So how long have you known ‘em? When’s the wedding?” 

You blinked at her, confused. And then you went hot with humiliation. “H-Huh?!” you stammered. “No, Mama, you’ve got it wrong! We’re just friends!” 

Eren looked relieved while Yuri looked like you just shot her. “See, Yuri?” he sighed. “Always jumpin’ to conclusions. She’ll get married when she gets married!” You didn’t ask why your mom seemed so overjoyed about you marrying two of the most notorious outlaws in the Wild West, but you didn’t want to know. 

You flush as you look at the two now, Yuri’s question about marriage still bothering you like a pesty fly. “So how were you two handlin’ things?” You ask, wanting to change the subject as quickly as possible. 

Gojo points at the fruit bowl questionably and you nod, rolling your eyes. Now he decides to ask? He plucks a strawberry out of the bunch this time. “Eh, it’s kinda weird bein’ in one place for so long, but we’ve gotten used to it. It’s pretty nice to sleep in a clean bed and take a shower every mornin’.” 

“We’re stayin’ at a bed an’ breakfast for now,” Geto explains. “Just until you’re healed up, but we don’t really have a timestamp on how long we’ll be stayin’ there for.” 

“And it’s for free!” Gojo happily announces, his joy over such a thing endearing to you. “The old lady who runs the place told us she loves us for our work, so she gave us the room free of charge.” He smirks at you. “To tell ya the truth, I think she just wants to fuck us.” 

Suddenly, a series of memories come flooding back to you: the starry Western skies; the moonlight turning the tips of the trees silver; the softness of Geto and Gojo’s hair between your fingers; their calloused hands; their wet tongues and soft mouths; Gojo’s piano fingers sliding inside of you while Geto plays with your— 

You press a hand to your head, wincing at the embarrassing memories. Now they decide to come back to you of all times?! Geto notices your discomfort and places a gentle hand on your knee. “You alright?” he asks, concerned. 

When you flinch at his touch, he notices and quickly backs off, afraid that he hurt you. “Y-Yeah,” you reply a little too quickly. “M’fine.” You cough into your hand, attempting to recover. “So when are we thinkin’ of gettin’ back on the road to find Benji?” you ask, changing the subject. 

The duo look at each other, silently speaking to one another, and you can see that you said the wrong thing. Gojo quickly sprinkles some sugar on the awkward moment though. “Whoa there, girl,” he chuckles. “Relax! You just woke up from a venom-indunced coma. Can’t the Bandit wait till you’re better?” 

“But I am better!” you protest despite your black toenails and throbbing foot. “Nanami said I should be good in a week, so we can leave then.”

Geto becomes the voice of reason despite your disagreement with him. “You need rest,” he soothingly says. “We’ll have plenty of time to go after Benji once you’re 100%, but for now, just take this time to recuperate.” You think about his and Gojo’s reactions to holding you almost-lifeless body and give in to the duo’s “suggestion”. And just like that, it’s settled. 

“So what’s this about us gettin’ married?” Gojo asks, plucking another orange slice from your fruit bowl. “Your mama seemed pretty animate about that.” He gives you a smirk as he goes to peel the slice, but you snatch it back before he can. 

“Please shut up,” you sigh while Geto laughs. 

[julianalvarez9]

can't sleep (without you) / leandro trossard

request: bestie 🙏🏻🙏🏻 i’m on my knees for a trossard fic/sm!au. honestly, whatever you’re okay with doing. if it’s possible, all i ask is that it’s fluff <3

author's note: bestie this man needs to have more things written about him like 😭😭 he's my little baby. hope this does the trick!!! had the idea for pedri initially but after receiving the request i remembered the wip and said yeah this is for my little sleep deprived boyfriend 🤭🫶🏻

warnings: not really a warning but i use lean as a nickname. i knowww it's generally leo instead, but sometimes lean is used where i live and i thought it was cuter. if you've got any problems with it, you're free to use leo instead :)

summary: the four times you notice leandro's not sleeping well, and the one time he finally does.

wc: 1.400 words

01.

the first time you notice that leandro's not getting enough sleep, it's during practice. your job is to keep them healthy, not only on the physical aspect and thus, on the pitch, but off the green grass too. you've noticed he's been a little off lately, not really focused on the task given and rather looking zoned out. so when practice's over, you approach him carefully.

"hey, leandro, are you okay?" you softly said, grabbing lightly his bicep to stop him from getting onto the changing rooms. he stops when he feels your touch, and turns to face you, concerned look showing on your features which transmitted onto his own. "yeah, why do you ask?" he frowned, while tilting his head in confusion.

"you look... tired?".

the affirmation you said isn't quite what he expected to hear from you. leandro doesn't get mad at you, but he doesn't look happy either. "oh" he mutters, assuming that you're implying that he looks bad. "no no, you look good" you rush to justify, cheeks getting profusely warmer at the confession that slipped from your lips. "just that you could use a nap, you know?".

"yeah, i could," leandro smiled, showing his pearly white teeth. "i'll take your advice. thank you, y/n."

02.

"how was your weekend?" the belgian asks, lightly leaning into the coffee vending machine situated on the end of the corridor. you were supposed to be watching the players, supervising them, but the air on london colney was too cold right now, and you needed a hot beverage to warm you up. leandro, on the other hand, should be warming up already, but instead was too distracted making small talk with you. "catching up on sleep, really needed it. you?".

"i did that too," he commented nonchalantly, rushing to get to your side once you started making your way towards the pitch again, leaving him behind. "sleeping for four hours isn't catching up on sleep, trossard," you deadpanned. it isn't the first time that you reprimanded him about how many hours he rested through the night, but leandro always pushed it off. "five hours is enough for you?".

"that's three hours less than the minimum required".

03.

"are you asleep?".

leandro's voice brings you back to consciousness, even if it was through a soft whisper. you're quite annoyed at being woken up so suddenly, and it shows in your response to his question. "clearly," you mutter, but remain still as you were before, giving the impression that you could fall asleep again any second. "c'mon, liefje, don't be mean," he whispers, while gently tapping your shoulder to catch your attention. you begrudgingly take the mask that was covering your eyes to sleep off, and look at him through tired eyes. "what is it, lean?".

things had started to get more personal lately, hence the utilization of the dutch pet name the arsenal player had given you a couple of weeks ago. in return, you adopted the nickname lean -short for leandro- for him, and you were marveled at how easy it seemed with him suddenly. calling him lean felt right, just as him calling you little treasure in his mother tongue felt.

"should have told you before you agreed to sit with me, but i'm kinda scared of airplanes".

you didn't want to laugh at him, but the giggle left your mouth without warning you. part of his job involved him travelling around to places, so it seemed kinda funny to you that he would be scared of planes. leo faked getting angry at your impromptu reaction, but it was quickly swapped to a pout that made your heart swell. "i'm sorry, i'm sorry, i didn't mean to laugh at you", you apologized, before continuing "what do you need me to do? do you need some sleeping pills? for me to sing you a song? hold your hand?".

the artificial light on the plane lets you see just barely how his cheeks turn into a slightly reddish color. "t-that's actually a good idea. i think. if you're up for it."

you don't know if it's your need to reassure him, or that you want to go back to sleep as soon as possible, but you extend your arm quickly, searching for his left hand that's resting awkwardly on his lap. the armrest separating both of you isn't the most practical thing, making his arm fall weirdly into your seat and, for sure, causing him discomfort. you drop his hand before trying to raise the armrest, and at first, he doesn't quite understand why you dropped his palm. until you grab it again without him having to tell you twice, and he smiles when he feels you mindlessly drawing circles onto the back of his hand.

"goodnight, my pretty little sleep deprived boy".

04.

the entire team has just arrived at the stadium where arsenal is supposed to play in a few hours. you're all waiting for the call to actually enter the facility, and meanwhile, you're keeping conversation with martin, -seated by your side now-, leandro and kiernan.

you're not paying attention to what they're saying, though, because you're keeping an eye on the belgian. when he yawns, again, you can't help but call him out for it. "leandro, that’s the third time in the last two minutes that you’ve yawned", you chastised, and martin at your side whips is head just in time to catch his teammate yawning a fourth time.

"i promise i'm not tired. i slept well last night", he assures, and you frown, not quite believing it due to the dark circles under his eyes, just a shade darker than they were the day before. "i'll make sure he takes a nap after this game, y/n", the boy seated at his side promises, patting his back lovingly. soon enough, martin joins too. "you'll need to stay with him, kiernan. he told me once he needs to have someone by his side to sleep well".

05.

tonight, you were at his house for the first time. like friends. leandro had set up a movie for you to watch, and some snacks on the little table nearby for you two to eat from. your sense of time isn't the best, but you can guess that it's been almost halfway through the movie. but at this point, you're not sure if the man at your side is even paying attention right now. it's been about 20 minutes since he retorted to rest his head on your lap, and you didn't oppose it, instead starting to caress his long locks mindlessly.

the soft snores catched your attention right away, but you didn't have the heart to wake him up. not when he looks so cute while sleeping, and certainly not when you know he's not the best at sleeping through the night.

eventually, the movie ends, and even if you try not to move too much, you're sure your left leg has gone numb by now. leandro seems to be a light sleeper, because at the littlest movement from you, he's already awake.

"did i fall asleep?" he ask, voice hoarse from sleep. he normally has soft, puppy eyes, but now that they're filled with sleepiness, the sight is even cuter to you. "yeah, you did," you giggle, and he drives his hands to his face, hiding away, embarrassed. he doesn't get to catch onto your lovesick stare, and you're kinda grateful for it.

"ey, no. don't feel bad about it. i actually thought it was pretty cute," you reassure, although, just like the first time you complimented him, it's something that slips past your lips. you get to see the little wrinkles near his eyes, where his hands don't quite cover, before he turns, giving his back to the television. leandro continues hiding his face, but now on your tummy, your sweatshirt muffling the plea that he slowly mutters. "can you stay with me tonight? i can't seem to fall asleep on my own these days".

your cheeks go warm at the implication that you might be what he needs to have a well rested night of sleep. during the little nap he took, he barely moved, and even if it wasn't the most comfortable position -his legs were cramped up together- his sleep seemed to be peaceful. "y-yeah, if it's what you need to sleep well".

"almost sure you're what i need, liefje".

[captainkirkk]

✩ WEEKLY FIC ROUND-UP ✩

All the fics I’ve read and really enjoyed in the past week-ish. Reminder: This list features any and all ratings and themes.

ATLA

Perfection is Overrated by JaggedCliffs (+ podfic) (NOTE: I've recced this fic before and I'll rec it again. When I die, I want to be buried with this fic)

For his first thirteen years, Zuko was raised in a palace. And yet somehow, it's the three years outside the Fire Nation that seem to count more – at least to the palace staff, who act like he's been raised by fox-wolves.

At first, this only annoys Zuko.

Until he begins to think that the Fire Nation needs more than a formerly-banished prince.

a brush of fingers, a kick of shins by lesmiserablol (+ podfic)

"Okay, I’ve been thinking all day, and here’s my idea,” Toph tells Zuko on their way to dinner. “You’re so sure he’s not into you, so I’m going to help you out and give you a gentle nudge every time he flirts so that you notice it.”

“Okay,” Zuko says slowly. He doubts it will be necessary, he and Sokka have been best friends for over five years now and that is probably all that Sokka thinks of him as. A good friend. “I don’t know if it’ll come up, but if it does...just don’t make it obvious, yeah?”

“Don’t worry, I have a plan,” Toph smiles. Zuko knows her fairly well, he knows he should be worried at that, but he just follows her into the dining hall.

Stranger Things

who wants to live forever? by starbeyy

In which Steve Harrington has two nightmares: The one he has about the fire at the Starcourt Mall every time he falls asleep, and the one where Eddie Munson visits him at Family Video to ask him for a favor.

shape it up (get it straight) by fivecenturiesverse (+ podfic)

Mike doesn't know when he started caring why Steve and Eddie are friends now, but Dustin has made him curious. Eddie and Steve were enemies before, sort of. So why are they now best friends? They've just got to do a bit of surveillance to work this puzzle out. If Mike accidentally finds out he has feelings for his best friend along the way then... well, shit.

-

“At least I’m not using binoculars.” Mike shoots a derisive look over at Dustin. “Like we’re not in the middle of the high street, if they spot us how are you going to explain away those, huh?”

“Bird watching,” says Dustin. “My new hobby.”

Lucas punches him on the arm. “God you’re so fucking stupid.”

“You gave them to me!”

Shadowhunters

Portable Magic by smilebackwards

Magnus may go slightly overboard helping Alec set up for the book club gathering.

Technically, perhaps, he didn’t need to create a signature cocktail or barter a favor to Raphael for O neg blood for the vampires or source the biscotti directly from Italy. But hospitality is important and these are Alec’s friends. He wants to make a good impression.

Or: Alec is in a Downworld book club and Magnus finds this unaccountably fascinating.

count the ways by smilebackwards

"I know the nephilim have some truly skewed perspectives on our history and culture but have you ever seen anything like this before?” Magnus holds out the book, open to Warlock Courting Traditions. The text only takes up half a page, a mystifying run-on list of odd and impossible tasks. It’s formatted almost like poetry and his dear, pedantic Alexander has turned it into a checklist, penciled lightly down the margin.

Ragnor snorts into his tea.

“Oh,” Catarina says, looking at the book. “That."

In somno veritas (In sleep lies the truth) by lawsofchaos (+podfic)

Jace blinks, peering at the loft in vague stupefaction. “This,” and Alec’s parabatai’s voice sounds like he’s dragging each noise out from his exhausted mind and forcing it out before he can forget what word he just discovered. “Isn’t the Institute?” The final phrase comes out as a question.

Alec tilts his head in puzzlement, glancing at his brother as if wondering how he could possibly consider that Alec had taken them there instead of here. “No?”

Alec’s head moves back to level and he narrows his eyes instead. “We said we were going home after patrol.”

The ‘ergo, we are home now’ wasn’t said, but it was obvious in implication.

bloom by smilebackwards

Alec loves watching Izzy get flowers but he thinks he would have liked, just once, to know what it felt like for someone to send him something so bright and sweet, frivolous, just because they cared.

[unfriendlyamazon]

Fic authors self rec! When you get this, reply with your favorite five fics that you've written, then pass on to at least five other writers (except me because obvs I have done it). Spread the self-love ❤

i love this ask because a) i was just looking at your catalog of work and b) i reread my stuff all the time because i'm a genius

picking 5 was hard but here they are

The Final Countdown, originally written for JouKai week 2022, is a recent one and feels like a fully baked version of how I see KaiJou's relationship. Funnily enough I originally intended this as a chapter in one of the first (now deleted) fics I posted and kept it in my head for a long time. I think KaiJou kissing in front of fireworks with the whole world watching is peak, and I'm glad I found a way to put it onto paper.

Bite Hard isn't perfect, and I think if I'd intended it as a longer form story I'd probably slow burn it a little, but I love it enough that I started to retool it into original fiction (though the main characters are inescapably Buddies). This is vampire Joey in one of my favorite forms: a shitty little boy just turned who has to keep his worst instincts under control. Maybe I'll return to it some day.

The Folly of Reason is the original creation of my Star Trek AU that one day, maybe, I'll get back to, because I have such plans (don't you want to see Kaiba pon farr???). I reread it while scrolling through my work to see what five I love the most, and this is definitely one of them. It has such a vibe, and I get to play in a universe I love.

Ballroom Blitz is such peak teen comedy, a genre I really love, with an ot3 I'm only mildly obsessed with. I definitely enjoy writing polyamory in fiction (such interesting dynamics), and I think it's funny that Duke and Joey kind of hate each other. I definitely want to write these three more, they deserve it.

oof, it was so hard to pick the last one, because I had two more I really loved, but I have to give it to

Double Date, which I think is one of the funniest things I've written. Another story idea I've had since that original fic I've since deleted, compounded with a joke about Pegasus/Keith being mirror universe KaiJou. I'm obsessed with Pegasus attempting to be paternal at Kaiba, and it shows an established relationship I enjoy. I feel like I sparked a little Pegasus/Keith surge with this one too, so I hope y'all out there enjoy it.