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stevie-petey · 10 months

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episode five: the flea and the acrobat

“Steve, what-” He pushes past you in a frenzied hurry to get to his car, but you grab his jacket and force him to stop. “Answer me! Is Nancy okay? Was Jonathan with her?” Steve whips around and sneers at you. “Why do you even care about them? About him?” “Because we’re friends,” you say, and for the first time you really mean it. Nancy has become someone you’d call a friend. Another cruel laugh escapes Steve’s lips. “Friends, huh? Yeah, those two looked real fucking cozy in her bed.”

summary: you and dustin have a long overdue Sibling Moment, at will's funeral you and jonathan exchange information and surprise ! it's all horrible news ! nancy has awful timing and when you leave her alone with jonathan one damn time you and steve end up trauma bonded on her front porch #bffs.

rating: general, though there's the use of guns in here for plot point sake, as well as cursing

warnings: use of guns, cursing, fem!reader, and use of y/n.

words: 14.4k (whew)

before you swing in: i'm back gang ! fall semester is almost done and i am in the trenches, so i leave y'all with this monster of a chapter before hell week (i have three finals in one day next week, no i don't want to talk about it). please enjoy this beauty, i had so much fun messing with character relationships in this and it was very ;)

With how many times you’ve knocked on the Wheeler’s door this week, you’d think that Mrs. Wheeler would stop looking so surprised when she answers.

“Y/N?”

You give the woman a small smile. “Hi, Mrs. Wheeler. Is, uh, Mike home?”

“Yes… he stayed home today because of Will. Is there something you need?” The usually friendly woman seems beaten down from this week’s events as well, which you’re understanding of.

“I was wondering if I could come in and see how he’s doing? Dustin is really shaken up about it, so I figured…” You shrug, trying to come across as a concerned older sister figure rather than a worried and horrible babysitter who should really retire.

Mrs. Wheeler places a hand over her heart. “Oh, Y/N. You’ve always been so good with the boys, of course you can check on him. It means a lot that you care.”

Oh, no problem, but if we’re being honest I’m here because I’m scared I accidentally let your son get involved with the supernatural and dangerous monster men thingies that I honestly can’t wrap my head around!

Of course you can’t tell the woman this, so instead you thank her and let yourself in. Immediately you head towards the basement and fling the door open. You like Mrs. Wheeler, but the amount of times her son has snuck out of the house without her noticing honestly concerns you, so you’re a bit unsure if Mike even is home.

You get deja-vu from a few days ago as you head down the basement steps, once again hearing the three boys panicking as they try to hide El. Unlike last time, which had only annoyed you, seeing them scramble to hide the girl makes you relieved.

They’re here, alive and well. You’d let Steve distract you from your worrying on the drive over, so the relief hits you like a damn truck.

“Oh god not again!” Dustin groans when he sees you, worried that he’s once again going to get yelled at for being at the Wheeler’s with El.

You ignore his theatrics and walk over to the girl, who is laying face down on the couch. You notice that she’s dressed in one of Nancy’s old costumes and a blonde wig that suits her well. What the hell did the kids get up to today?

“Do I want to know why El is dressed like a doll and almost passed out on the couch?”

“That depends on if you’re going to yell at us again,” Mike says.

You shoot him a glare, but you guess he has a point. The last few times you’ve been with the kids you’ve ended up yelling at them one way or another. You feel bad about that, but then again: they won’t stop getting into trouble.

El manages to raise her head from the couch, “Hi, Y/N.”

“Hi, sweetie,” you approach the couch and gently nudge her to the side so that you can sit down and place her head on your lap. She nuzzles into your warmth and lets out a sleepy sigh. “And to answer your question, Mike: I’m not here to yell at you guys. I just… Please tell me what’s been going on. I know I haven’t been here for you guys like I should’ve, but-”

“Your boyfriend needed you more,” Mike quips, though there’s some resentment in his voice that causes you to feel even worse.

Dustin hits his shoulder against the boy. “He isn’t her boyfriend, but she couldn’t just abandon him; he needed her. Besides, we have been sneaking off without telling her anything.”

You cast an appreciative smile at your brother, thankful that even though he’s a pain in your ass, he always has your back like you do his. It’s something he’s always done with you and Mike; being so similar, you and him are constantly butting heads, yet Dustin has always been the first to defend you against his friend (even if you’ve never needed it in the first place).

“I’m sorry, okay? I messed up, but I’m here now and I really, really need to know if I’m being paranoid. What mess did you dweebs manage to get into?”

The three boys suddenly can’t look at you. Their heads turn in different directions, Lucas scratches the back of his neck, Mike kicks at a board piece on the ground, and Dustin whistles a tune.

Your shoulders slump. “Is it that bad?”

“It started this morning,”

“Lucas!”

“Mike, she could help us! The weirdo clearly likes her,” he gestures over to El practically asleep in your lap, “plus, she’s the only sane one left in this group. I need backup.”

“Backup?” You ask.

Mike throws his head back in annoyance and lets out a groan as if he’s dying. Truly, this kid is the most dramatic person you’ve ever met. “Fine, we’ll tell you everything if you agree to stop hounding us for sneaking around. Will is missing, he’s our friend, and no one in the party gets left behind.”

You think this over for a moment, weighing the pros and cons in your head. “I will agree to those terms if you guys agree to keep me updated on everything at all times.”

The boys try to argue, but you don’t let them.

“I mean it, another person is missing. Nancy’s friend, Barb, was in the same woods that Will was, the same woods that you guys keep insisting on trekking through without supervision. This is serious, guys. Whatever, or whoever, is out there… it’s dangerous, and I-” You swallow down some tears that claw against your throat. “I can’t lose anyone else, okay?”

The mood in the room is solemn, the three boys silent as your words hang in the air. Naturally, you try to lighten things up. “I’ll deny this if anyone asks, but unfortunately I love you boys.”

As expected, they immediately begin to gag and pretend that they’ve been impaled with something as they all scream “ew” and “yuck” at your words. You laugh, which causes El to laugh as well, and for a moment it feels like nothing has changed.

“So?” You ask after the boys have finished their gross theatrics.

Dustin is the one who makes the decision for them. “We promise to keep you updated, for real this time.”

“Good, now again I ask: why is El dressed like a doll and half asleep on my lap as we speak?”

Lucas, Dustin, and Mike begin to talk all at once.

“Mike radioed for me to head over, claiming he heard Will on the walkie.”

“Yeah, and then they radioed me to join. Sorry, by the way. I would’ve woken you up, but you and Jonathan looked so cozy in your bed so-”

“I thought you said they weren’t dating?”

“Not now, Mike.”

It continues like this for a while as they explain everything they did today. Sneaking El into the school, having to to talk to Mr. Clark, attending the assembly for Will, Mike fighting some idiotic kids for making fun of him before El made the head bully pee himself.

You look down at the girl in your lap. “You can really make people pee themselves?”

“Sometimes,” she shrugs.

“Lovely.”

“That’s what you focus on, Y/N?” Mike asks you, and you simply shrug your shoulders in response. Sue you for still having doubts about Will being alive, you’ve gotten your hopes up one too many times.

“Are you suggesting I believe that you heard Will through your cheap little walkies?”

Dustin puts his head in his hands in defeat while Lucas gestures over to you. “See, she’s the sane backup I need.”

Mike groans at you once more. “No, that’s why we snuck El into the radio room and used the heathkit that Mr. Clark got us. Keep up!”

“What, did you tell the guy that El was a new student?”

“Don’t be stupid, we told Mr. Clark that she’s my cousin.”

“Uhh, Y/N,” Dustin laughs nervously, motioning for you to stop talking. “You promised you’d be cool about everything if we told you.”

Knowing that your brother is right, you deflate a bit against the couch and start playing with El’s hair. “I am being cool, I just have so many questions.”

“Oh, just wait.” Lucas snorts.

Mike now crosses the room to stand in front of you, as if he’s gearing up to tell you some major news. “We heard Will on the heathkit. El, she managed to use her powers to communicate with him.”

Like always, the seriousness in his voice concerns yet intrigues you. “Lucas, do you really believe that it was Will?”

The boy nods at you, his face grim. You don’t like how scared he looks, because out of the entire group he’s the one who is always the most reasonable. If he’s willingly telling you that he thinks it was Will, then you have to start taking the situation at hand seriously.

“Okay, tell me exactly what you guys heard.”

And they do. One by one they tell you about Will’s pleading for his mom, telling her that it’s like home but cold and dark, the banging that followed after his words, how El had used so much of her energy trying to maintain the communication before the radio caught fire and she was too exhausted to do much else.

“So, you believe us now?” Mike asks after you’re silent for a moment.

You look down at the girl in your lap, in awe that someone so small and shy could hold so much power. This time you believe what the boys tell you without much conviction. Now that you know that Barb is missing as well, lost in the same woods as Will, the same woods where you found El, the photos from Nancy and the figure she claims she saw… It’s all starting to come together.

You’re not sure exactly what you’re caught up in, but you know it’s too late to back out. Whatever is going on, whatever thing took Will and transported him to some unknown place with possibly the same powers that El has, you know it’s your responsibility to handle it.

“Yes,” you respond, and the boys all sigh with relief. “Just one question though,”

Dustin sighs. “Yes, Y/N?”

“How did it take you guys so long to set fire to the school? Honestly, Jonathan and I thought it’d happen sooner.”

“You’re hilarious.” Mike deadpans, which only causes you and El to giggle together again.

“I hate to ruin the good mood, but we seriously need to figure out what Will meant when he said that wherever he is ‘is like home’.” Your brother interrupts.

Mike spins to face him. “He said, ‘like home, but dark’, right?”

“And ‘empty’.” Lucas adds.

“‘Empty’ and ‘cold’. Wait, did he say cold?” Dustin asks the group.

You nod your head. “You mentioned cold earlier.”

Lucas throws his hands up in the air in frustration. “The stupid radio kept going in and out!”

“It’s like riddles in the dark…” Your brother sighs, which you hum in agreement to.

Will’s words were pretty vague, but you wish you had been there at the middle school as well. Maybe if you had heard the tone of Will’s voice, you’d be of more help.

Mike continues to mumble about “like home” and “dark” for a few more seconds, now pacing around the room. You watch from the couch, El still resting with her head in your lap, and as you’re playing with her hair she finally speaks up after having been silent for a while.

“Upside down.”

“What’d she say?” Lucas asks.

“Upside down? I guess?” Is all you can tell him.

“What?”

While you, Dustin, and Lucas are confused by El’s words, Mike rushes over to the forgotten board from a few days ago and sits down. He frantically flips it over and motions for you to come and join him. You hesitate for a second, but he only doubles down on his waving you over, so you gently lift El’s head up and walk over.

“God, took you long enough.”

“I was literally three feet away from you on the couch, why did I have to move?”

Mike ignores your question and begins to explain the thirty million thoughts flying through his head at the moment, “When El showed us where Will was, she flipped the board over, remember?”

You nod, slowly understanding where he’s going with this. “She flipped it upside down.”

“Exactly! Dark. Empty.”

Lucas looks over at you and Dustin, unamused. “Do you understand what he’s talking about?”

“No,” your brother says at the same time as you saying “the upside down part? Yes. The dark and empty part? No.”

Mike tries to explain further. “Guys, come on, think about it. When El took us to find Will, she took us to his house, right?”

“You mean last night when they found Will’s body in the water?” You ask, not really understanding where Mike is going with all this.

“Like Y/N said, he wasn’t there.” Lucas reminds everyone, but Mike still tries to get his point across.

“But what if he was there? What if we just couldn’t see him, what if he was on the other side?”

You think about Jonathan’s words from earlier today in the car while on the way to the funeral home, trying to calm down from his fight with his mom. He had told you about how Joyce was convinced that Will was in the walls within their home, that the body they saw in the morgue hadn’t been his.

“Hold on,” you interrupt Mike, “you guys said that there was some, like, banging where Will was, right? And that he had been begging his mom to come get him?”

“Yeah, it was like some sick sci-fi movie!”

You glare at your brother. “Ignoring you. Anyways, did you guys hear Mrs. Byers on the radio as well?”

Mike shakes his head. “No, all we could hear was the banging and something... Growling, I guess.”

Knowing Joyce, you’d bet money that the banging had been her. You know that the next time you go over to their house, the walls might actually be destroyed, but she’d been right all along. Will is alive, he has to be. The pieces that you’ve slowly been collecting this past week fall together one by one.

“That explains the walls and the weird monster thing in Jonathan’s picture,” you mumble to yourself, but Lucas hears you.

“Do I wanna know?”

You purse your lips. “Let’s focus on figuring out where Will is, then I’ll tell you guys what I’ve been up to this week.”

“Okay, so,” Mike begins again, now grabbing the board game and flipping it onto its normal, light side. “What if this is Hawkins,” he flips it upside down onto its dark side, “and this is where Will is?”

“The Upside Down.” You finish for him.

“The Upside Down.” Mike confirms.

Slowly Dustin follows along. “Like the Vale of Shadows.”

Somehow you always end up the one confused when it comes to these damn kids. “The Vale of Shadows? What the hell is that?”

Dustin runs over to the bookshelf and pulls out a thick binder full of paper, but as he flips through it you realize it’s a rulebook for Dungeons and Dragons. He lands on the page he’s looking for, and you feel your shoulders drop. Great. More confusing terminology ahead.

“‘The Vale of Shadows’,” he begins to read, “‘is a dimension that is a dark reflection or echo of our world. It is a place of decay and death. A plane out of phase. A place of monsters’.”

“Wait, didn’t you say something about a monster, Y/N?” Lucas asks, but you shush him so you don't miss whatever else Dustin will say next.

“‘It is right next to you, and you don’t even see it’.” He finishes.

His words hang in the air for a moment, but Mike, always somehow three steps ahead, pieces it together. “An alternate dimension.”

Lucas finally accepts what’s happening. “But how do we get there?”

“I’m sorry, we?” You look between all three boys, their faces still young and holding the childish innocence that you once had yourself. “No, there’s no ‘we’ in this. I may not know much about alternate dimensions, but there’s no way I’m letting you guys try to find and go to one.”

Mike rolls his eyes at you. “Well what choice do we have? Do you want to tell that mean police chief about this?”

“I…well… I mean-no.” You sink down in the seat, annoyed that Mike is right. No way Hopper believes any of this, you hardly believe any of it.

“Can we cast shadow walk?” Dustin focuses back on the conversation at hand.

You don’t bother to ask what that means.

“In real life, dummy.” Lucas reminds him.

“We can’t shadow walk, but…” Your brother’s eyes land on El, who is still laying on the couch, silent and unmoving. “Maybe she can.”

The four of you turn towards the girl, and Mike voices his own question. “Do you know how we get there? To the Upside Down?”

El meets your eyes, and you can see that she’s hesitant about something. She’s been quieter than usual, almost suspiciously so, and you know that the more Mike figures things out, the more hesitant she becomes. She shakes her head at you, and you give her a sad smile.

Lucas flings his head back and groans. “Oh my god!”

Mike and Dustin seem to be thinking the same thing, disappointed by El’s lack of help. You don’t blame them, also frustrated by the fact that it feels like you guys are so close to discovering something big. You can feel hope reignite in your chest; you haven’t been this close to an explanation about Will all week. This has to be it. It’s the only way you can explain everything that’s been happening lately.

Speaking of which:

“Remember how I mentioned Barb and a possible monster?”

You tell them everything, about Jonathan’s worry for his mom, how their phone got charred by lightning, Hopper’s theory that Will had been running from something, Nancy and Barb attending Steve’s party and how Barb had been on her own near the woods. You tell them about how Barb has been missing ever since and the photos Jonathan took (leaving out the horrible ones of Nancy) that Nancy brought to your attention at the funeral home. The figure in the background, looming over Barb, how it didn’t seem to have a face.

Then you tell them about Joyce and her spiral, though now you know she actually wasn’t crazy. You tell them about the Christmas lights and Will communicating with her through them. How she claimed that she could hear him through the wall and that the body in the quarry hadn’t been him.

When you’re finally done catching them up, they stare at you with their jaws open.

“Dustin,” Mike says, “remind me to never leave your sister out ever again.”

“Noted.”

–

The events from the day had left El exhausted and she refuses to say anything else after you explain everything to the boys. Her eyes droop while Mike interrogates you for answers you can’t give him, so finally you take pity on the poor girl and tell him that you’ll talk more in the morning.

Mike isn’t too happy about being shut down, but when you point towards a half asleep El he reluctantly gives in. “Fine, but as soon as the funeral is over we’re discussing this further.”

Right. Will’s funeral is tomorrow.

“Yeah, sure,” you tuck your hair behind your ears and motion over to Dustin. “We need to go, it’s late and mom will be wondering where we are.”

He tries to argue with you but you just gather your things and head for the stairs. There’s still a lot you need to think about and a million things you need to sort before the funeral tomorrow. Did Jonathan even buy the coffin? Who had made the arrangements after you and him left the funeral home with Nancy?

There’s a lot you need to talk about when you call him tonight.

The bike ride home with Lucas and Dustin is a quiet one, both boys understanding that you need some time to think about everything you learned tonight.

You make a list in your head of what you do know, but it’s a frustratingly short list.

1) El, one way or another, has powers that enable her to communicate with Will in some weird upside down universe that you can’t actually get to (can you even count this as something you know?)

2) Hopper was right: Will went missing because he was running from something (probably the same faceless thing that’s in Jonathan’s photo).

3) Whatever took Will also took Barb, bringing Nancy into this wonderfully confusing mess (you still don’t know if her involvement is a good or bad thing).

Everything else? You have no fucking clue what’s going on.

When you get home with Dustin, it’s late; the two of you have to sneak past your mom, who fell asleep with Mews on her lap in the living room. Dustin heads straight for his room but you stop him, motioning for him to come into yours for a second.

“What-”

“Shh!” You quickly shut your door to ensure that your mom won’t hear anything.

Dustin groans. “I thought you said you weren’t gonna yell at me?”

You roll your eyes at him. “I yell at you guys twice after years of patience, now suddenly I’m a screaming monster,” he doesn’t say anything and flings himself onto the bean bag by your bed. “Anyways, we’re long overdue for a code blue.”

Your brother shoots up from the bean bag, eyes wide. “No.”

“Yes,” you join him on the bean bag. “Code blue time, we’re going to talk about our feelings after the hellish week we’ve had. C’mon, you know the drill.”

Code blue was something the two of you came up with when your dad left. You had been twelve when it happened, Dustin had been nine. It’d been a really rough few months for you guys, dealing with the betrayal of your dad while also moving away from your hometown in Virginia all within a year. Neither of you had adjusted well to the sudden changes, and though you were angry and bitter about what had happened, the moment you saw that it was affecting your brother you decided to implement code blue.

It’s simple, really. Whoever calls for a code blue gets to talk about or ask whatever they want while the other is required to answer. Originally it was so that you could force Dustin into telling you his feelings, but over the years it’s become a way to bond with each other and know that no matter what you’ll be there for one another. No half truths or a vague “I’m fine”; it’s a time for you guys to be vulnerable with one another without using it as leverage against the other.

Dustin plops his head back down. “Fine, but I’m tired so can this be quick?”

“Hey, no complaining during code blue. That’s like, rule number one.”

“Y/N.” His tone is one of annoyance and you know that if you don’t start talking soon then you’ll lose his interest.

“Right, sorry. Okay,” you clear your throat and face your brother. “Today’s code blue topic is this: I’m worried about you getting your hopes up about Will. We don’t know that he’s alive just yet.”

As expected, Dustin is unhappy with what you’ve said. “We do know that he’s alive, I heard him on the heathkit. He’s alive, Y/N.” He sees the uncertainty on your face and doubles down on what he’s saying. “He is.”

You bite your lip, scared that you’ll say the wrong thing. “Dustin, nothing is certain. Even though we’re definitely onto something, and while I believe that you heard Will on the radio, that doesn’t change the fact that there’s something else out there that wants to hurt him. I mean, he’s trapped in some weird alternate dimension that we have no idea how to even get into. I just… I don’t want to see you get hurt again.”

You think about the way your brother’s face fell when they pulled Will’s body out of the water. How the hope that had been in his eyes immediately died alongside his childhood naivety. He had built all of his hope upon a shaky foundation; the moment it collapsed he fell apart.

“Look I know you’re trying to look out for me, but Will is a part of the party. He’s our friend, we can’t just lose hope and leave him behind. He needs us.” Dustin speaks with so much certainty and an aura of maturity that almost makes you forget that he’s twelve.

“I’m not saying it’s dangerous to have hope, but I need you to promise me that you’ll protect yourself from whatever happens next. How’s that sound?”

Dustin thinks for a moment, tapping a finger against his chin. “Hmm, I think I can make that deal if you promise the same thing. I mean, c’mon, it’s obvious that you’re the sensitive one out of the two of us. You and hope? Doomed.”

You laugh, knowing he’s right. You’ve always been branded by hope; hopeful for love, for dreams, and for those who may not always deserve it. You and hope haven’t always gotten along, but she’s become a familiar friend.

“I think you’ve got yourself a deal. Now, it’s late and I have to call Jonathan and catch him up on everything, so let’s conclude code blue with its mandatory hug.”

“Woah woah woah, I don’t think we gotta-”

Dustin’s words become muffled as you throw yourself on top of him and squish him into a hug. He squirms against you for a second, claiming he can’t breathe, but you shush him and force him to accept the hug. Though you won’t ever tell him this, losing Will has only made you more appreciative of having a wonderfully annoying little brother.

After code blue, Dustin goes to his room claiming that “alternate dimensions are super draining”, and before he leaves you tell him to be ready tomorrow by nine for the funeral and that your mom will take him. You’ll be at the Byers’ helping Jonathan.

Once he’s gone you give yourself a few moments to sit in silence, letting the events from today settle over you. It seems like all you’ve felt this week is exhaustion and hurt and at the rate everything is going, there’s no telling how long you’ll feel this way.

The moment you’re done wallowing you roll off the bean bag and walk over to your desk to call Jonathan. You’re honestly not sure what you’ll even tell him tonight, there’s no way you’ll be able to cover everything before the night ends. The two of you have a long day tomorrow, so you figure you’ll have to make do with the limited time you have and summarize.

Jonathan answers after a few rings. “How’d your little secret mission go?”

You make a face. “Is it even a secret mission if I told you I was going on it?”

“It is if you refuse to tell me what you did during it.”

“Touche, bee.”

He laughs, which sends a cascading warmth throughout your body. You can envision him perfectly on the other end of the line, leaning against his kitchen wall with the phone wire wrapped around his finger as he absent mindedly fiddles with it while he talks to you.

You clear your throat and shake the thought from your mind, you called him for a reason. “Anyways… we need to talk.”

Jonathan is silent for a moment and you can feel the playfulness fade away. “Yeah, you first though. You already know what Nance and I were up to.”

Nance?

Awesome. Cool. Totally not going to be consumed by that later.

“Right. Uh, well. I went looking for Dustin because the other night when I was with the boys we stumbled upon this, well, this little girl.”

“A girl?”

“Yeah, she’s bald.”

“Okay… is that important or…?”

“Unsure, but it felt important to tell you. Sorry,” you take a deep breath, “I’m not sure why I’m so nervous right now.”

“It’s okay, bug. It’s me, you can tell me anything.”

No I can’t.

“Sure, yeah, totally. Um, so anyways we found her, her name is El, and she’s our only connection to Will right now.”

A beat of silence. “What do you mean?”

“Well, she kinda has… powers?”

“Powers,”

“Powers.”

You hear Jonathan sigh on the other end of the call. “Bug, you’re not seriously telling me that the boys have somehow dragged you into one of their little schemes, right?”

Yeah, he’s reacting exactly how you figured he would.

“I know what it sounds like, but Jonathan… How else would you explain everything going on? Will disappeared, Barb did too, your mom and her lights. Now that thing Nancy saw in the woods, which I know you definitely have an update that will only further prove how weird this all is.”

Again Jonathan is quiet, and this time you envision him pacing little circles in the kitchen as he carefully thinks through your words, trying to piece it all together. “We developed the photo again and you’re right, there’s something behind Barb in it.”

You close your eyes and exhale. “So, you believe me now?”

“Guess I don’t really have a choice.”

“You don’t.”

“Then we’ll talk about it after the funeral tomorrow.” He concedes.

“Yeah,” you let out a shaky breath, “the funeral. I’ll make my way over the second I wake up tomorrow to help with everything.”

“You don’t have to-”

“I know.”

More silence settles over the two of you. It’s still hard to wrap your head around the fact that it was only a week ago where everything was normal. No disappearances, no weird feelings, no heartbreak and confusion.

“Bug?” Jonathan is practically whispering.

“Yeah?”

“Lonnie is here.”

The words hit you hard. Why the fuck is Lonnie back in Hawkins? “Do you need to spend the night? I can finally bake those cookies for your mom and we can watch whatever you want.”

“No,” he sounds exhausted. “He hasn’t been a problem yet, and I can’t…”

“Leave your mom with him?” You finish.

“He thinks she’s crazy and her axing down one of our walls doesn’t help-”

So you were right, Joyce did indeed break down her wall to try and get to Will.

“Jonathan, it’s okay. I understand, stay with her and get some rest. Sleep, that’s an order.”

He lets out a weak laugh. “I love you, bug.”

Like how I love you?

“I love you too, bee.” The words burn your tongue.

“Goodnight,”

“Sleep well.”

–

You’re up before the sun this morning.

You spent hours tossing and turning last night, hardly getting any sleep. No matter how hard you tried, you couldn’t seem to turn your mind off. All you could think about was Jonathan, his smile and his voice and the way he kisses your forehead whenever you’ve done something especially endearing to him. You were surrounded by him last night.

Now you stand outside his front door holding a tin of cookies, dressed in a simple knitted black dress and tights with mary janes that used to belong to your mom for Will’s funeral. The shoes are your favorite, but now you’re afraid they’re tainted by the occasion you’re wearing them for.

It’s Lonnie who opens the door. “Well if it isn’t little miss Henderson. I missed ya, sweetheart.”

You haven’t seen the man in two years, having been fourteen when he left Joyce and the kids. Since then he’s only aged horribly, his eyes slightly yellowed and his beer gut now more prominent. Clearly he still prefers alcohol over human company. Figures.

“Can’t say the same about you.” Your shoulder hits his as you walk in and he lets out an annoyed huff.

The man follows you but you pay him no attention. Instead you head straight towards Joyce and the second she sees you she runs into your arms; you only have a few seconds to place down the cookies before she’s in your arms.

“Y/N! You’re here!” She squeezes you tight and you melt into her embrace. She’s always given the best hugs whenever you’ve needed the comfort, but now it’s your turn to be the one offering the support.

“Of course, Mrs. Byers. Who else will make sure Jonathan is ready on time?” You mean for it to be a joke, but the way that Joyce’s eyes harden tells you that the funeral is a sore topic for her. She still doesn’t believe that Will is dead and it breaks your fucking heart that you can’t tell her she’s right.

Joyce wipes away a tear before pulling away. She goes to say something before seeing the tin of cookies on the counter; she immediately pulls you into another hug. “Oatmeal raisin,”

“They’re your favorite.”

“And Will’s.”

“And Will’s favorite. You know I gotta take care of my Byers.” You whisper into her ear, feeling Lonnie’s eyes on you during the exchange. You have to bite back your tongue, though his presence always makes you feel a type of anger that’s normally foreign to you.

Joyce pulls away and you know it’s taking everything in her to give you a smile. “You’re too good, sweetie,” she tucks a loose strand of hair that came out of its braid. “Jonathan’s in his room.”

You grab her hand and give it a squeeze, trying to convey just how much you love and admire her into a simple gesture, before letting go and walking over to Jonathan’s door.

He’s struggling with his tie when you let yourself in. He’s dressed in the only nice white button down he owns, something he bought for his aunt’s funeral a few years ago that now hardly fits. You can tell that he’s getting frustrated with the tie, so you walk over and help.

“Here, let me,” you wrap your fingers around the piece of cloth and quickly fashion it into a tie. The two of you don’t talk while you fix the clothing and you know that today will be a wordless day with Jonathan.

When you’ve finished, you begin to pull away before he places his hands around yours. He cups your hands at the base of his neck as they rest against his collarbones; your fingers are still wrapped around his tie. He squeezes your hands and brings them to his lips and kisses your knuckles so softly that you feel all the love within you simmer.

You know he’s only trying to express his gratitude for you but the butterflies in your stomach make you feel faint.

You’d do anything for him.

–

The funeral has a surprising turnout, not because you ever doubted Will’s incredible ability to be loved by anyone he meets, but because you see faces in the crowd who you’ve never seen before.

You stand behind Jonathan during the funeral with your hand on his shoulder as he sits with his family in a weak attempt to provide comfort during the service. It’s really fucking bleak. Your other hand is on Dustin’s shoulder as he stands next to you while Mike and Lucas are to the right of him.

Your mother is in the back of the crowd having known she’d cry the entire service, and faintly you can hear her blow her nose into a tissue and sniffle.

The pastor drones on for a while about how a tragedy like this won’t separate everyone from God’s love, but if attending the funeral for a twelve year old boy is how God shows his love then you want no part in it. Joyce sits stoic alongside Lonnie, Jonathan hasn’t moved at all since the service began; they’re a family brought together by grief. This isn’t love.

“Just wait until we tell Will that Jennifer Hayes was crying at his funeral,” Dustin snickers, effectively breaking you from your thoughts. You hit his shoulder and shush him as Mrs. Wheeler reminds the boys to be quiet. You flash her an apologetic smile for your brother’s actions.

You know how firmly the boys believe Will is alive and you honestly can’t say you don’t think so as well, but nothing is certain. Even if he’s alive there’s no way you guys can get to wherever he is; you wish the boys would use some caution with how quickly they’re building their hopes up.

After the service you walk up to Will’s grave and bend down. You bring one of the yellow roses from the funeral director up to your lips and whisper, “If you’re out there little bee, please, come home.”

Before dropping the rose in you give it a gentle kiss, inhaling its sweet scent and watching as it falls down onto his coffin. Jonathan finds you there crouched down and sees the rose right as it lands. He doesn’t say anything, he just grabs your hand and helps you stand up to bring you over to where Nancy is waiting a couple yards away.

“Hey, Y/N.”

You don’t have it in you to do anything other than wave at the girl, but she seems to understand and gives you a sympathetic smile.

Soon the three of you are settled on the ground with your backs against an old rickety fence behind some tombstones. Jonathan is in the middle of you and Nancy and you rest your head against his shoulder, already exhausted from the day. It’s not the coziest spot to be sitting, but at least you’re away from prying eyes.

Once you’re seated, Jonathan finally talks for the first time today. “Alright, I already told you this over the phone last night bug, but Nancy was right. After we redeveloped the photo there’s definitely some kind of figure behind Barb, and we thought maybe if my mom has been right all along about some monster-”

“Then she’s right about Will being alive.” You finish for him, having already come to the same conclusion yourself.

“And Barb has to be alive if Will is.” Nancy says, and there’s a spark of hope in her voice that surprises you. You’re ashamed to admit that you didn’t think her and Barb were that close, but seeing how worried she’s been for the girl makes you realize that you’d been a fool not to have seen it sooner. Barb was Nancy’s closest friend. You don’t know what you’d do if Jonathan ever disappeared like Barb did.

Jonathan pushes your head with his shoulder. “Anything you want to share with the class?”

You look between him and Nancy and try to decide how much you should tell them. While you’ve already told Jonathan a little bit about El, you’re not sure if you can trust the information with Nancy. However, seeing her urgency to find her friend leaves you feeling a bit safer disclosing the information to her.

“It started the night after Will disappeared…”

It takes a while to tell them everything, and while Jonathan butts in a few times to ask questions, Nancy remains silent and eagerly listens. She nods when she’s supposed to, engages with the story as if her life depends on it. You’re incredibly impressed by her intelligence and openness to the situation at hand. Had it been anyone else they would’ve scoffed at you and called you insane. But Nancy? She holds onto every word and trusts that what you’re saying is true.

You’re starting to admire her, as painful as it is to admit. But Nancy Wheeler is fucking brilliant, there’s no denying that.

When you’re finally done explaining El and the Upside Down, Nancy finally speaks. “Let me make sure I’m understanding correctly, you’ve been helping my brother harbor a girl with superpowers in my basement?”

Huh.

You hadn’t thought of it that way.

“Ya know, you make a good point.”

Thankfully she laughs and doesn’t seem too upset, which relieves you. You reassure her that they’re fine and that El is someone you trust, and Nancy seems to take comfort in your words. It’s not that you purposely hid the situation from her, but looking back you definitely could’ve used her help now that you know how cool she is.

As the two of you are laughing, Jonathan pulls out a piece of paper.

“What’s that?” You ask.

He shows you. “I printed out a map of Hawkins and drew x’s on every place we know for sure the monster has been.”

“Two questions: one, so we’re officially calling it the monster now? And two, why don’t you ever put in this much effort for school projects we do together?”

Jonathan flicks the paper in your face. “Funny. And yes, we’re calling it the monster now. Can you pay attention please?”

“Sorry,”

Nancy shuffles in closer and her head is practically on Jonathan’s shoulder as well (you’re choosing to ignore that) and she studies the paper and points to one of the x’s. “So that’s-”

“Steve’s house,” Jonathan points to another x, “and that’s the woods where they found Will’s bike and where Y/N last saw him,” the familiar feeling of guilt washes over you, “and that’s my house.”

Nancy reaches over Jonathan and grabs your hand, surprising you both. “You saw Will last?”

“Yeah,” you swallow, your mouth now suddenly dry.

“I’m sorry,” her tone is sincere.

“We should get back to the map…” You dodge, highly uncomfortable with Nancy’s comfort. You appreciate it, but you’ve never been good at accepting help from others.

“Right, sorry,” Nancy clears her throat. “The x’s, they’re all so close.”

Jonathan observes the interaction with slight confusion but decides not to say anything besides, “Yeah, exactly. I mean, it’s all within a mile or something. Whatever this thing is, it’s not traveling far.”

There’s a look in his eyes as he speaks, one of determination and disdain for whatever that thing is, and before you can tell him no, it’s Nancy who voices your concern first. “You want to go out there.”

Jonathan nods and you feel uneasy. “I trust you won’t try going alone again, right?” It’s a question, but he hears the underlying try and I’ll kill you hidden beneath your words.

“No, not this time… but we might not find anything.”

“I found something,” Nancy reminds him, which you nod at. She’s the only one out of the three of you who has seen the monster in person, and if you had to place any bets, she’s the one who will be able to figure out what the fuck to do with it.

Actually, what are you guys going to do?

“Do we, like, have a plan for after we’re done monster sightseeing? Or are we just going to take a look at it and call it a night?” You ask the two of them.

Nancy bites her lip and looks down, also unsure what exactly the three of you are supposed to do. It’s Jonathan who remains stone faced, and there’s a newfound sense of confidence within him that you’ve never seen when he boldly states, “We kill it.”

“Alright there tough guy,” you hit his chest with your hand and snort. “Sure, we kill it. Obviously.”

“Well, do you have any other ideas? For all we know, Mike and the others will be out there in those woods later looking for Will.”

“We don’t know that-”

“Bug, humor me, how did they find El again?”

You’re silent. He’s right, if you guys don’t go and find this monster before tonight then there’s a high chance the boys and El will find it themselves. Fuck.

“Nancy,” you say to the girl, “it seems like we’re now officially monster hunters.”

–

Of course Lonnie has a goddamn handgun just casually stored in his glove box.

You’re not entirely on board with this whole gun situation and apparently Nancy isn’t either, immediately questioning Jonathan when he picks the lock to get the gun.

“What, you want to find this thing and take another photo? Yell at it? Better yet, why doesn’t Y/N just round up the boys and El and have them take it down.”

“Okay, hey,” you point at Jonathan. “Out of line.”

He mumbles an apology under his breath while Nancy claims that this is all a terrible idea. You’re not sure where you fall in regards to what’s happening, but you’d say at the moment you’re a solid mix between Jonathan’s no time for nonsense mood and Nancy’s hey let’s slow down hesitation.

You kick a rock and watch as it dings against Lonnie’s car, which pleases you. “Oh it’s definitely a terrible idea, Nancy. Unfortunately it’s all we have going for us at the moment.”

Jonathan nods at your words. “She’s right, no one’s going to believe us if we tell them. You know that.”

“Your mom would.” Nancy responds, jutting her jaw out in defiance.

You cringe, unsure how Jonathan will respond to what she’s said. Joyce is a sore topic for him, he’s always been so protective of her.

“She’s been through enough,” he sighs, and you hum in agreement.

Nancy grows more frustrated. “She deserves to know!”

You step in between them. “Look, you’re right. Mrs. Byers deserves to know, but right now she isn’t well enough to handle the idea of her only remaining son actively seeking out a monster that may have taken her other son who could possibly be alive. If we’re wrong or Jonathan gets hurt, it might actually kill her.”

“Yeah, we’ll tell her when this thing is dead.” You note Jonathan’s word choice, saying “when” instead of “if”. In the four years you’ve been his friend, you’ve never seen him so self-assured before. You’d be proud of him if the circumstances weren’t so damn grim.

“What about the kids?” Nancy finally says after a few seconds of silence.

“They can’t get involved, I won’t let them.” You tell her and she nods as if expecting you’d say that.

She gestures over to the funeral home where the crowd of attendees are now gathered for the post burial service. “I know my brother, so you better go and tell him that they need to stay at our house while we deal with the monster. They like you better than they like me, they’ll listen to you if you explain what we’re doing.”

You’re flattered by her words, honestly. Mike, Dustin, and Lucas listening to you about staying put while you guys go monster hunting? They’d be out the door before you’d be even able to finish saying the phrase “monster hunting”. No way they’ll listen, and you’re about to say exactly that before catching the look Jonathan is giving you.

You groan at him. “You don’t actually believe they’ll listen to me, right? C’mon, you know those boys as well as I do. This is just a giant DnD game for them at this point.”

He shrugs, “It doesn’t hurt to try?”

Nancy gives you a hopeful look and bats her eyelashes at you, which, okay, shouldn’t work on you but does. Jonathan does the same, except instead of batting his eyelashes he winks at you and suddenly you’re very confused by the onslaught of emotions that wash over you.

“Ugh, fine. But when they show up in the woods later you guys are on your own!”

–

When you step inside the service hall, everyone is gathered into small groups talking amongst themselves. You scan the room for the kids and spot them across the room sitting at a table with Mr. Clark. He’s talking to them about something while holding a paper plate up. You’re not sure what exactly he’s saying to the boys, but they’re leaning in close to him and are listening intently.

This worries you.

You try to make your way over as quickly as you can, but being Jonathan’s best friend has some challenges. Every few steps you take you’re stopped by an extended family member of the Byers to ask how you are or a stranger stops to offer you their condolences because you’re close with the family. You do your best to make small talk and thank the people, but you don’t have time to say much else besides, “thank you” or “you were Will’s favorite great aunt”.

By the time you finally get to the table with Mr. Clark and the boys, the man has folded up the paper plate and stabs it with a pen. You really, really don’t want to know whatever the hell this man is explaining to the kids.

“You create a doorway,” he explains, holding up the plate and smiling at the boys.

Dustin looks enthralled. “Like a gate?”

“Sure, like a gate. But again, this is all-”

“Theoretical.” Lucas says, nodding his head.

A gate?

What are the odds the boys are talking about a gate to Disneyland?

You sigh, not liking the odds at all.

You slide yourself into Dustin’s chair and force your brother to share with you. He squeaks in surprise and you flash him a tight lipped smile, which causes him to gulp. He knows he’s been busted.

Mike scoffs at your arrival. “Gee, wonder why you’re here Y/N.”

“Go on, continue this conversation with Mr. Clark here. I wanna hear it.”

Mr. Clark looks at you uncertainly but Mike simply carries on with the conversation as if you aren’t even here. “But what if this gate already existed?”

“Well, if it did I think we’d know.”

You snort. “Wanna bet?”

Again the man looks at you uncertainly and clears his throat, uncomfortable by your presence. “What I mean to say is that it would disrupt gravity, the magnetic field, our environment.”

“So if there is a gate, it’d be really bad?” You ask, but you already know the answer.

“Oh, definitely. It might even swallow us up whole!”

You and the boys look around the table at one another, not at all liking what Mr. Clark is saying. Swallow you guys up whole? That’s not really something you’re interested in.

Mr. Clark sees your nervousness and shrugs. “Science is neat, but it’s not very forgiving.”

Silence falls upon the table.

Mr. Clark is such a peachy person.

“Well!” You throw your hands upon the table and the loud noise causes everyone to flinch. “Thank you so much for that lovely information, Mr. Clark. It was truly riveting, but would you mind giving me and the boys a second alone? I just, I want to make sure they’re doing okay after today.”

You bat your eyes at the man, something you never do, and he clears his throat and excuses himself. The second he’s gone you snap your finger in the boys’ faces. “Hey, listen up. Whatever you guys are planning? Don’t.”

As usual, Mike is the one who argues. “But-”

“No.”

“You don’t even know what we’re-”

“No.”

“Can you at least let me-”

“Sure,”

“Really?”

“No.”

Lucas and Dustin watch the interaction with slight pleasure, amused by your ability to shut Mike up, but when he turns to them for help they reluctantly give in.

“Y/N,” Dustin sighs, “honestly, how many times are we gonna do this whole ‘we’re not allowed but we’re going to do it anyways’ bit?”

You glare at your brother. “However many times it takes for you guys to finally listen.”

“Cool. Then we’ll expect you to bust down Mike’s door later tonight.”

“I’m not kidding,” you face all the kids and make sure they’re listening. “Whatever you’re trying to do, don’t. Jonathan and I-”

“You told Jonathan?” Mike exclaims but Lucas shushes him.

“We’re going to handle it, we already have a plan but whatever you do: stay out of the woods from here on out. We think… We think there’s a monster out there hiding. I just want to make sure you guys are safe.”

“Monster hunting?” Dustin’s eyes light up and you silently curse Jonathan and Nancy for even suggesting you do this in the first place.

“Technically… yes, but you guys absolutely have to stay put.”

They stare at you as if you’re insane.

“You do realize who you’re talking to, right?” Dustin asks.

You flick his head. “Yes, and I’m putting a lot of trust in you guys right now. I’ll let you guys do whatever you want so long as it doesn’t include the woods. Until you get an all clear from me, it’s off limits.”

Mike thinks this over. “Can we look for the gate then?”

You sigh. There’s no other way to appease them. “If you don’t go near the woods… then fine.”

The boys begin to cheer, which causes several funeral guests to stare at you with judgment. You realize now that this probably hadn’t been the right setting to have this conversation in. Oh well.

You don’t let the boys cheer for long. “However-”

“There she goes,” Lucas sinks into his seat and squeezes his eyes shut.

“I get full updates whenever I please. I don’t care if I have to track you guys down from the gates of hell itself, but I will find you and you will tell me everything. Deal?”

Lucas, Dustin, and Mike gather close together and duck their heads down so whisper to one another. You roll your eyes but wait for them to finish. When they’ve reached a decision, Mike interlocks his fingers and places his hands on the table. “You’ve got yourself a deal.”

–

As soon as you’ve changed out of your funeral clothes and into a simple pair of jeans and a sweater, Jonathan arrives at your house. You kiss your mom’s cheek before leaving and shout over your shoulder, “Remember the deal, Dustin!”

You don’t quite catch what your brother responds with but you honestly don’t care enough as you run over to Jonathan’s car and hop into the passenger seat.

“You certainly didn’t waste any time getting here,” you say in lieu of a hello.

Jonathan shrugs. “No time to waste when it comes to monster hunting.”

“You do realize that we’re only scouting out the woods tonight, right?”

You, Jonathan, and Nancy had decided earlier to simply go and explore the woods for any clues of the monster and then figure out how, or even if, you can kill it.

“I know, but monster hunting sounds cooler.”

“Bless you, bee.”

The two of you get to the field in no time. Jonathan had been the one to suggest the spot a few yards behind his house for target practice and Nancy had agreed to bring a bat just in case you needed more protection.

And you?

You’re bringing the cans to serve as targets for shooting. Your family has never owned a gun and last time you checked, Dustin doesn’t play any sports, so all you can offer is your emptied recycling bin contents.

It doesn’t take long for you and Jonathan to set up the cans on top of the tree trunks before he begins shooting. Jonathan takes a deep breath and holds the gun up so it’s eye level and looks over at you. “Ready?”

You take a deep breath as well and prepare yourself, knowing it’s about to become loud. “Yeah, start shootin cowboy.”

The first shot hits a tree behind the can, nowhere near its intended target, and you wince. It’s looking like the monster might actually win at the rate Jonathan’s aim is going.

“It’s okay,” you tell your friend. “The tree looked at me funny, he had it coming.”

Jonathan snorts. “You’re laughing now, but I can’t exactly hunt a monster if I can’t even shoot it.”

“Maybe you could talk nicely to it?”

“And say what, exactly? ‘Hey, Mr. Monster, where are you hiding my brother?’”

You step closer to him so that you’re now side by side and you nudge his shoulder. “Hey, you never know. It could work.”

Jonathan readjusts his grip on the gun and aims it once more. He takes another shot, this time it lands a bit closer to the can, but not by much. He lets out an agitated, “Fuck!”

He tries shooting again and again but each shot is as unpredictable as the last. After his sixth round of firing you can see how tense his shoulders are and the way he’s clenching his fists against the weapon. You remember how he acted earlier today, the newfound anger and resentment within Jonathan that had originally impressed you. Now it only frightens you.

When he goes to re-aim the gun for the seventh time, you grab at his hand and stop him.

“Bug, what are you-”

“Let’s go for a walk.”

Jonathan looks at you like you’re crazy but you simply take the gun from his hands, click the safety back on, and then walk over to the tree stumps to rest it against one of them. When you’re done you walk back over to the boy and interlock your fingers with his to drag him along.

There’s not a whole bunch of room in the clearing for a walk per say, but there’s enough to go a few laps around for Jonathan to take a breather. You’re not sure exactly what’s going on with him but a walk has never hurt anyone.

Jonathan’s silent the first lap around. You’re content with this and you admire the fall weather and enjoy the slight warmth from the sun as it kisses your face. When you’re on the third lap you decide to ask a question that’s been on your mind since yesterday when Nancy showed up at the funeral home.

“Do you really believe Will is alive?”

Jonathan thinks the question over for a moment, and as he’s lost in thought you notice that he begins gently swinging your hands back and forth absentmindedly. “I can still feel him.”

“Feel him?”

“Yeah, I know it sounds crazy but…”

“No, I think I get it. I mean, I’d be able to feel if something bad happened to Dustin. I know I’d be able to, even if there’s not necessarily a science behind it. It’s like there’s a lifeline connecting us, like some unspoken sibling thread that neither one of us can sever.”

“A sibling thread?” Jonathan asks, a slight laugh accompanying his question.

“Oh, you know what I mean, bee.”

“No, no. I wanna hear all about this thread theory of yours.”

Jonathan’s bright mood is back, reminiscent of the boy you once believed you knew better than you knew yourself, so you entertain his teasing if only to sustain his light a little longer. “If I explain this theory you have to promise not to laugh at me.”

“I promise,” he says and he gives your hand a light squeeze.

“Alright, but if you decide I’m insane after this, just know that you legally cannot leave me. You signed a contract.”

“Oh, did I?”

“You sure did, bee. Anyways, back to me,” a slight breeze surrounds you for a moment and you let the crisp air fill your lungs. “I have this theory that we’re all connected to each other in some way by different threads. Some threads are older than others, stronger, or maybe even more rigid, but they’re there. Whether it’s a thread between you and your family, the love of your life, or a stranger you happen to pass on the street one day, none of it happens by accident.”

“The threads are the reason it all happens?”

“Not necessarily, but yeah. To put it simply, I guess you could say that.”

“So, for our thread,” Jonathan stops walking and tugs at you to stop as well. “After everything we’ve been through, all that we’ve done for one another, what thread would you say our’s is?”

His question catches you off guard; you can hear your heart beating within your chest. There’s so many things you wish you could tell him.

Our thread is one of romance, of lovers, of soulmates, even.

The feelings build within you and the words threaten to spill out. The November sun is beginning to set and everything is golden in its light and Jonathan is a part of it all. His brown eyes are like warm honey on a cold winter morning and his hair is slightly ruffled from the wind that leaves his cheeks flushed and rosy.

“Our thread,” your voice catches in your throat for a moment. “You know what our thread is, bee.”

He pulls you closer to him and in this moment all you can focus on are the slight freckles that dot across his face and neck. “Do I?”

Jonathan has never, ever looked at you like this before. There’s an intensity within his eyes that frightens you and leaves you feeling bare before him. Does he know? Has he figured it all out?

“I…” You can’t form the words you want to say; the three words that have been weighing upon you feel even heavier than before. They’re thick on your tongue, syrupy and dense and you feel as if you can’t breathe.

“Y/N?” He whispers, but you can only shake your head.

It’s too much. It’s all too much.

And then suddenly Jonathan leans in.

Maybe you’re imagining it.

Maybe you’re delirious after almost a week of sleepless nights and exhausting encounters.

Or maybe, just maybe, he feels the same way about you.

You lean in as well and allow yourself to close your eyes; you believe that just this once you can be selfish and accept more than you may deserve.

“Hey! Guys!”

Nancy’s shout causes you and Jonathan to spring apart.

You want to scream.

Of course it’s Nancy fucking Wheeler.

Jonathan drops your hand and waves the girl over while you stand there, trying to collect yourself. As she walks over, you have just enough pride left over to say, “You know I’d do anything for you, right?”

The question is one Jonathan isn’t expecting. He steps back a bit, now even more aware of the close proximity the two of you had only seconds ago. “Of course I do, bug. You’re my best friend.”

Best friend.

The words hurt more than they should, really.

“Right. Best friend, ha.” You step even further away from Jonathan, which he raises his eyebrows at.

“Did I miss something or…?”

If you had the time, you’d ask him why he wanted to know about the thread between the two of you. Why he looks at you like you’re the most precious thing in the entire room. Why, just minutes ago, he leaned in as if to kiss you.

But Nancy is now only a couple feet away and it wouldn’t be fair to ask her to give the two of you some privacy. You spot the bat in her hand and it serves as a reminder of what the three of you are here for in the first place.

Will, Barb, the monster.

“No, of course not,” you clear your throat and greet Nancy as she arrives. “Hey, Nancy.”

She smiles at you and then says hello to Jonathan. “Hey, where’s the gun?”

You point over to the cans and the tree stumps. “Over there, we just wanted to go for a little walk after shooting a few rounds.”

Nancy nods and walks over to inspect the undamaged cans. “You said you already shot a few rounds?”

Jonathan ducks his head down. “Yeah, well. It’s not as easy as it looks in the movies.”

“Y/N, did you try shooting?”

“Pfft, I’m definitely not a weapons kind of girl. I prefer to use my crippling good looks instead.”

While you and Nancy talk, Jonathan walks back over to the gun and reloads it. He motions for the two of you to step back and he shoots a few more times. Not once does he hit the can. You pinch the bridge of your nose and sigh.

“You’re awful at this, bee.”

“Yeah,” Nancy agrees.

Jonathan looks over at her. “Have you ever shot a gun before?”

She scoffs. “Have you met my parents?”

“I don’t know, Mrs. Wheeler seems like the type to have a hidden gun.” You say, and Nancy waves you off.

“Well, I haven’t shot one since I was ten. My dad took me hunting on my birthday and made me kill a rabbit.” Jonathan’s words make you frown. Every day he gives you another reason to hate Lonnie.

Nancy sympathizes with Jonathan and the two of them fall into an easy banter that you’ve never seen before with him. He’s comfortable around her in a way that makes your stomach twist. He tells her about his parents and how they may have loved each other at one point but now no longer do. He’s opening up to her after only a few days of really knowing her.

Lovely.

Nancy shares some details about her own family and how she believes her parents never loved each other, which you can relate to. You watch as Jonathan hands her the gun as she explains how her mom had been younger than her father. “He had a cushy job, money, came from a good family. So, they bought a nice house at the end of a cul-de-sac and started their nuclear family.”

“Isn’t it funny how the fathers never seem to suffer the same fate as the mothers?” You ask, and Nancy looks over at you in confusion, so you explain further. “My own parents, they were like yours except the moment my mom was no longer young, my dad left. Found a newer and cheaper model back home in Virginia.”

“I didn’t know that, I’m sorry Y/N.”

You shrug. “It’s not like I go and advertise it. Besides, he was an asshole anyways and my mom is better off without him. She’s the sweetest woman in the world who was forced to run back to her family in Hawkins. Nuclear families aren’t all they’re cracked out to be.”

Jonathan ruffles your hair to get you to laugh, which he succeeds in doing. “Screw that.”

Nancy raises the gun to eye level and closes one of her eyes, her beautiful face now scrunched in concentration. “Yeah, screw that.”

And with that, she shoots a perfectly aimed shot and knocks the can off the stump. You and Jonathan look at her, stunned, but she can only laugh.

“Damn, Jonathan. Remind me to never piss Nancy off.” You say, still staring at the fallen can.

Only he doesn’t hear what you’ve said because he’s too busy staring at Nancy. You can tell he’s impressed by her hidden shooting talent and the way she holds herself with such confidence. His eyes shine as he stares at her and he almost seems to come to life whenever she looks back at him.

Jonathan looks at Nancy and you know he sees what everyone in Hawkins sees: a beautiful, fierce, and incredible girl.

Nancy Wheeler, the perfect enigma.

Suddenly it clicks.

Jonathan is in love with her, or at least he’s beginning to fall in love with her.

You want to hate her. Afterall, she already has Harrington head over heels for her, and yet you can’t blame either one of the boys. She’s perfect and brilliant and everything you’re not. You’d fall in love with her too if you weren’t already in love with someone else.

You watch as Nancy and Jonathan become lost in their own little world, him helping her reload the gun as she flashes him a shy smile, and you no longer exist near their presence. It feels like a fucking stab to your already open wound of a heart. You watch the way he ducks his head down whenever she looks at him and the way she stares at him when he isn’t looking.

Nancy shoots a few more rounds and each shot feels like a hammer coming down onto your own coffin. Each time Jonathan looks at her you feel another nail enter.

Clearly there’s no room for you here.

Which is fucking ironic given that you’re in a giant field outside.

You reach for Jonathan’s hand and tug him forward. He gives you a look as if asking is everything okay? and you wish more than ever that things were different between the two of you. You give him a soft shake of the head. “I can feel a headache coming on and I just remembered that I have a shift tonight, so I should get going.”

He frowns. “But what about the monster? We can’t look for him without you.”

“You’ll be fine without me,” to your horror you can feel tears forming, which you quickly wipe away before Jonathan can notice. “I doubt I’d be any help, anyways. I suck with guns. Nancy’s the professional here.”

“I mean, I guess, but…” He looks over at Nancy, who is busy firing the gun and hitting every target she aims for, before pulling you even closer to him. “Are we okay? I feel like, I don’t know… like I’m losing you.”

Your breath catches in your throat. He could never, ever lose you, but if you don’t leave now then you’re afraid that maybe you’ll lose yourself.

“Don’t be silly, bee. You’re not losing me, no matter how much you may want me to.” You try to tease him, but your heart isn’t in it.

“You didn’t answer my question, Y/N. Are we okay?” He’s looking at you with so much adoration and concern in his eyes that it almost makes you sick.

“Of course we are. I promise. I think it’s all just catching up to me, if I’m being honest. Between finding Will and tracking down my own brother, I think this monster hunting business may break me.”

Jonathan eyes you for a moment as if to try and catch you in a lie, but while you’re only telling him this as an excuse to get away from him and Nancy, it’s not technically a lie. You are exhausted. Plus, you really do have a shift.

The boy scans your face once more before deciding that you’re telling the truth. You know he suspects there’s something else behind your words, but thankfully he doesn’t pry. “Let me tell Nance that I’m driving you home,”

And there it is again.

Nance.

The nickname is like a punch to your gut and only solidifies that you should go. “It’s okay, bee. It’s still nice out, figured I’d walk home and get some sun before winter officially takes over Hawkins.”

“You can’t expect me to let you walk alone now that we know there’s a monster out there taking people, bug.”

You kiss his cheek, letting your lips linger for a little longer than necessary. “I’ll be careful, I promise. Stay with Nancy and call me tonight after you guys are done scouting around. We’ll figure out where to go from there. Okay?”

You don’t give Jonathan time to argue because you pull away and inform Nancy of your departure. She also frowns at the idea but has already learned that you’re not one to be told what to do. She understands this aspect of you, and you understand it within her as well, so she wishes you goodbye and tells you to stay safe before going back to shooting.

As you leave, you feel Jonathan’s eyes follow after you.

–

The walk ends up being more than enough to clear your head. You haven’t had any time to be alone in god knows how long, so it’s nice to have some time to just think and enjoy the quiet. There’s a lot you need to think about, but at the very forefront of your concerns are Will and El. You still have no idea how they’re connected or how the monster comes into play.

Then there’s Steve, oddly enough.

You’re not really sure why he’s in the midst of your thoughts, but there he is. Smiling at you and laughing at your jokes and telling you that you’re pretty as he instills a carefree sense within you that feels foreign to enjoy.

As his words ring through your head, you find your thoughts drifting towards Jonathan and the way he holds your hand every time you’re worried about something and the way he kisses your hair after a particularly hard day.

You’re not sure why the two boys almost seem to clash within your mind, but you don’t have time to look into it. Your shift starts soon and god knows how long your coworker Alex can survive on his own if you’re late.

Work is slow as usual tonight, but you find the downtime a pleasant relief. It gives you the opportunity to skim some new books that shipped in and catch up on some Spidey storylines. In between stocking books and arranging comic displays you find yourself wondering just how true to his word Dustin stayed earlier.

Like hell those kids really stayed out of the woods.

Your question is answered as soon as you get home and find your brother crying in his room. Panic immediately swells within your chest and you run over to him.

“What’s wrong?” You check Dustin’s body for any sign of injury and he lets you as he cries, too upset to wave you away. When you’re assured that he’s okay, you feel your heartbeat calm down again.

Christ, everytime you see this kid he takes ten damn years off of your life.

You pull a chair from his desk and sit in front of him. “Dustin, do we need to have another code blue?”

“Maybe,” Dustin sniffles, wiping away a few tears.

“Okay, then code blue. What happened? Is everyone okay? Is it El?” At the mention of the girl’s name, Dustin flinches. Your blood runs cold. “Dustin, what happened with El?”

“You won’t yell at me?”

You smooth down his always wild hair. “Never during code blue. Please talk to me, bud.”

Dustin explains how he and the group had gone looking for the gate like they told you they would. He explained how they’d followed the train tracks throughout Hawkins for what seemed like hours.

“The train tracks that go through the same woods I told you not to go in?”

“Like hell we were gonna listen to you.”

“Yeah, I know.”

This gets Dustin to laugh a bit, which you’re relieved to see, before he continues his story. When he reveals El’s weird behavior and the way she seemed to be hiding something from them, you feel dread creep in. “Did she… Did she do something to prevent you guys from finding the gate?”

“She used her powers to mess with the compass. Lucas found the blood on her jacket.”

You sense that there’s more. “And then?”

“Mike and Lucas… they-they started fighting.” Dustin’s voice breaks, “they started really going at it, and I tried to stop them. I swear I tried, Y/N!”

“Shh,” you reach for his hand to try and calm him down. “I know you did, but I also know how Mike can get when he’s protective of someone and I know that Lucas isn’t El’s biggest fan. It was a recipe for disaster.”

Dustin snorts, “No kidding.” Then his face darkens once more, “but they wouldn’t listen, and that’s when El screamed.”

“She screamed?”

“I think she was overwhelmed, but she used her powers on Lucas and flung him across the yard and he hit his head pretty hard…”

“She what-”

“She didn’t mean to! She looked really upset after, and Lucas was fine after he woke up-”

“He was knocked unconscious?”

“And then he stormed off and El ran off. We searched for her, but…”

You stare at your brother in shock. That definitely hadn’t been what you were expecting. El never struck you as a violent girl, but she knocked Lucas out with her mind. Sure, she may have been trying to break up the fight, but you’re willing to bet that she lost control for a moment and Lucas ended up getting hurt as a result.

Maybe you don’t want superpowers.

“Y/N, have I lost all my friends?” Dustin asks.

You shush him once more. “No, of course not. You three boys have always been so drastically different from one another, and this week has been one from pure hell. It makes sense that Lucas and Mike finally snapped, but I promise you that they’ll bounce back eventually.”

“And El?”

“I’m not sure what to make of her,” you admit. “She isn’t violent, I know she’s not. But we also clearly don’t know her as well as we think we do. I just, I need you to be careful around her, okay? Fight for her, defend her like you would for the boys, but be cautious as well.”

“Cautious, got it.” He cocks his head at you, “but what about Lucas and Mike? They’re still friends, right?”

“Of course they are. Just… sometimes friendship can be hard, but it’s almost always worth fighting for. It’s rare to find friends as loyal as Mike or as brave as Lucas or even as sincere as Will. Yet look at you guys, all together; you’re all incredibly lucky to have one another.”

“Lucky like you and Jonathan?” Dustin asks, a sly glint in his eyes.

You smile, even if he’s teasing you. “Yeah, like me and Jonathan.”

Dustin returns your smile and you squeeze his hand. “Anyways, I say give Lucas some time to calm down. I think he was scared, more than anything. Tomorrow you can try to talk to him again.”

Your brother nods at your words and he seems better than he did when you first started the conversation, so you open your arms wide and engulf him into a hug.

“Code blue concluded, I guess.” Dustin mumbles against your chest, which causes the two of you to laugh.

–

After your talk with Dustin, you head back to your room and wait for Jonathan to call. You glance at the clock and figure that maybe him and Nancy were still out scouting for clues, so you busy yourself with some homework.

When it nears ten at night and the phone still hasn’t rung, you sigh and reach over for the phone on your desk. You dial Jonathan’s number and hope he simply forgot to call, but when no one answers after your fifth time calling: you begin to worry.

Ya know, maybe it wasn’t your best idea letting him and Nancy go off alone with a monster on the loose.

You find yourself frantically biking to the Wheeler’s house before you can even think about it. The night blurs past you and as you walk up their driveway and try to rest your bike against their mailbox, a familiar BMW parks next to you.

“We’ve gotta stop meeting like this, Henderson.” Steve says as he sends you a wink.

You almost greet the boy before Tommy’s head pops out from the passenger side window. “Hey good lookin.”

You hear Carol berate him and the two begin to bicker as Steve gets out of the car.

Great. He brought the idiots.

Steve walks over and takes your bike from your hands. After a couple seconds of repositioning and balancing, he finally manages to get the bike to stay upright. “Tada!”

“I almost had it,” you glare at him.

“Sure ya did.”

Steve’s presence is frustrating as always, but you spot Jonathan’s car parked down the street and Carol’s shrill voice becomes increasingly irritating. You don’t have time for this right now. “What are you doing here, Harrington?”

“I could ask you the same thing.” When you glare at him, he finally says, “Nancy promised she’d call me but hasn’t, so I wanted to check on her.”

His sincerity is why you say, “I’m here for…” You realize you can’t necessarily tell Steve about Jonathan possibly being here. You have a feeling it wouldn’t end well, but you’re also not keen on lying to the boy. You’re already keeping secrets from practically everyone in your life; you don’t want to add Steve to the list. Not when he doesn’t deserve it.

“I’m looking for Jonathan,” you confess, worried about Steve’s reaction.

He frowns. “Why would Byers be here?”

“Him and Nancy have this… thing for english. Due tomorrow. A big thing. Like, huge. So they’re working on it together. In the house. Where Nancy lives. Here.” You stumble over your words, more nervous than usual, but you weren’t expecting Steve to be here or that you’d need a cover story.

“Uh huh,” something almost aggressive flickers across Steve’s face and you silently curse to yourself. You said the wrong thing.

“Funny, Nancy told me she was only helping Byers for the funeral.”

Shit.

Tommy and Carol watch from the car, obviously amused by the whole situation.

“Right! She was, now she’s working on an assignment with him.” Technically not a lie, you’re just omitting the fact that the assignment in question is monster hunting.

“You’re really bad at lying, Henderson.” Steve walks past you, now over the conversation, and you struggle to keep up. You try to block his path, assuming that he’ll use the front door, but as you near the front step he side steps you and starts heading towards the bushes.

“What are you doing?” You whisper loudly, trying not to draw too much attention to yourself.

Steve ignores your whispered yelling and jumps on top of the radiator. Once he’s up, he begins to pull himself over the overhang and up onto the roof. There’s a window just above the ledge with a light on, which you presume to be Nancy’s room due to the practiced ease in which Steve scaled the house.

You don’t try to climb up after him in fear that you’ll only end up embarrassing yourself. “Ya know, Mrs. Wheeler loves me, I could’ve just knocked on the door.”

Steve peers down at you, an easygoing smile now back on his face. “Relax, this is quicker. Besides, you gotta admit it was impressive to watch.”

Again he winks at you and you feel your cheeks flush. He’s right, it had been impressive to watch; he had made it look so easy. While you struggle to come up with a witty retort, Steve almost knocks on Nancy’s window before his smile drops.

You notice the way his face hardens. “Steve?”

He doesn’t respond, which only concerns you more. You begin to think about the millions of possibilities surrounding Nancy, Jonathan, and monster hunting; fear creeps in. “Is Nancy there? Is she okay?”

“Of course you’d be worried about Nancy right now,” Steve laughs bitterly. You frown at his words, unsure what they mean, but before you can ask anything else Steve angrily climbs back down.

“Steve, what-” He pushes past you in a frenzied hurry to get to his car, but you grab his jacket and force him to stop. “Answer me! Is Nancy okay? Was Jonathan with her?”

Steve whips around and sneers at you. “Why do you even care about them? About him?”

“Because we’re friends,” you say, and for the first time you really mean it. Nancy has become someone you’d call a friend.

Another cruel laugh escapes Steve’s lips. “Friends, huh? Yeah, those two looked real fucking cozy in her bed.”

A wave of nausea hits you.

“W-what?” You drop your hand and release his jacket.

“It’s incredible, really. Byers has some fucking nerve.” Steve runs a hand through his hair in agitation and begins to pace. You’re too numb to stop him. “I mean, look at you! He has everything he could possibly want, but he decides to go after my girlfriend.”

“It’s not like that-”

“Did he tell you they’d be in her room, alone in her bed, underneath her blanket?”

More nausea hits you. “No,”

They were supposed to look for any signs of the monster in the woods. That’s all he told me, you think.

“So he’s a liar, too.” Steve scoffs, “you deserve better, Y/N.”

And with that, he heads back to his car and drives away, leaving you standing alone once more in the Wheeler’s driveway. You get a sense of deja-vu, watching Steve’s BMW descend down the street, but only this time there’s no warmth fluttering within your stomach as he leaves.

All you feel is nausea.

You don’t remember the bike ride home; you’re not sure how you even made it back safely without crashing into anything. All you remember is that you cried the entire way.

You’ve lost Jonathan, there’s no denying that now. He’s Nancy’s, wholly and truly, he’s hers.

He was never yours in the first place, you remind yourself.

But if he was never yours in the first place, then why does it feel like you were almost something?

No.

You don’t want to think about it that way.

Yours or not, you can’t afford to lose Jonathan.

Something or everything, you’ll take whatever you can when it comes to him.

Everything, anything, nothing. Whatever he gives you, you know you’ll cling onto it with all that’s within you.

But your friendship with Jonathan is too precious to lose, too meaningful to let stupid feelings ruin it. You refuse to let anything come between your friendship with him, and you swear to yourself to shove everything down. Every hurt feeling, all the pain stabbing within your chest, you force it all down to focus on finding Will.

He’s all that matters right now, even if it feels like the thread connecting you to Jonathan has begun to wither.

Will has to come first.

You have to find him, something good and lovely has to come from this. You can’t let this all be for nothing.

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vivwritesfics · 5 months

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Hungry Like The Wolf

Chapter Five

She hadn't seen her best friend, Lando, in years. She didn't run into him the last time she was visiting her father and she doubted she'd see him this time. Things were different now. She wasn't aware of his furry little problem. Just like she wasn't aware of the vampires plaguing the town.

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Vampire!Oscar x Reader x Werewolf!Lando

Series Masterlist

If Oscar played chess, he would have been good at it. Every move he made was calculated, always two steps ahead of everybody else.

She probably didn't realise their dinner date was on the full moon. How could she know it had any significance when she didn't even know what was happening in this town?

The air was electric as he drove through the wolf side of town. He was really pushing his luck, driving through on a full moon. He was scheming and calculating, sure, but he was still a gentleman. He'd never had driven through on a full moon if he didn't have to pick her up.

He could feel it, could see the way someone stared at him. Probably a piercing, yellow stare. If he didn't knock on her door, he was sure whoever it was would have been pouncing on him, pulling him into the woods for some stern 'words'.

But then she answered the door, looking so pretty in her sweater and skirt combination. "Hey," she said as she turned around and pulled the door shut.

"Ready to go?" Asked Oscar as he offered her his arm.

She took it with a smile that was too kind for this town and walked with him over to the car. He pulled the car door open for her, looking around for a flash of yellow as she climbed in.

In the garden of the house opposite her own, Oscar saw it. Yellow eyes. He smirked, knowing full well the wolf could see it all, and climbed into the car.

As he drove, he let her talk. It wasn't anything important, what some would describe as mindless dribble, but Oscar still listened. Like I said, he was a gentleman.

As soon as he was out of the wolf side of town, he relaxed. His shoulders dropped and he released a breath, his grip on the steering wheel easing. He could hear a howl behind him, and it only made him smirk.

The restaurant Oscar had picked was run by Vampires. At first, things had been hard for Vampires in this town. Integrating into this society had seemed impossible. But, over time, they'd found a way. They'd gotten jobs, opened restaurants that catered to both human and Vampire, even if the humans didn't know it.

Oscar was a gentleman. He opened the door to the restaurant for her and pulled out her seat.

What can I really say about the dinner? Oscar was so lovely throughout the entire thing. He was funny in a way she hadn't expected (not that she hadn't expected him to be funny).

(Oscar couldn't eat human food. The food they placed in front of him wasn't real food, was designed to melt in his mouth. No, his real meal was in the glass in front of him, disguised as wine.)

When the date was over, he drove her back to her house. Of course, Oscar paid for the meal. He gave the waiter a tip (after a hundred years alive, he knew how to impress a woman) and took her hand as he led her back to his car.

But there was already someone at his car. Oscar ran his tongue over his teeth as they approached, keeping his hand on the small of her back.

"Logan."

Logan was Oscar's best friend and the first person to find out his date. If he was waiting at Oscar's car, then it was because of some kind of emergency.

The smile Logan wore was shy yet charming as he offered her his hand. "Hi," he said, his pointed teeth poking into his bottom lip. The Vampires had no reason to panic, though. Such a small view of his teeth were offered that nothing looked out of the ordinary to a Human that didn't suspect anything. "I'm Logan."

She gave him her name as she shook his hand.

"I'm really sorry about this, but I need to borrow Oscar," he said, his smile still polite.

She looked to Oscar and nodded her head. "That's more than fine," she said and stepped towards the car.

Immediately, Oscar pulled the keys from his pocket and unlocked the car. He pulled open the passenger side door for her and took her hand as he helped her into the car. "I'll back back in a minute," he said and shut the door, shutting her in the car.

He looked towards Logan and gestured for him to follow. Logan did just that. He followed Oscar away from the car, into a part of the car park with little light. But the two Vampires could still see clearly. They knew she was watching them, but let her watch. As long as she couldn't hear them.

"You've been pissing off the wolves," Logan said with the shake of his head, clearly amused.

Oscar shrugged his shoulders, but he couldn't hide the way the corner of his lips turned up. "Really?" He said through a dramatic gasp. "You don't say."

The scoff that left Logan's lips wasn't supposed to piss Oscar off. And it didn't, Oscar knew him too well for that. "Daniel came by after you picked her up for your date. He said that Lando is mad, and he's gonna be waiting for you in the woods around the back of her house," he said, nodding back towards the car.

Oscar couldn't help but laugh. "Really?" He asked, shoving his hands into his pockets. "He's seriously going to wait for me?" When Logan nodded, Oscar let out a quiet 'pathetic'.

"Do you want me to follow behind?" Logan offered, but Oscar shook his head.

"I got it."

He said his goodbyes to Logan and headed back to his car. She was giving him a smile, one that was encouraging and reassuring. Even if she didn't know what was going on.

"Sorry about that," Oscar said as he climbed into the car. He checked the time on his watch. "Is your dad gonna kill me for getting you home late?" He asked as he pulled out of the car park.

A melodic laugh left her lips. "You realise I'm an adult, right, Osc? I think I'm older than you."

Compared to him, she was just a baby. But he wasn't going to tell her that. He was going to let her believe that he wasn't a hundred years old.

He pulled up outside of her house. Oscar opened the door for her and took her hand to help her out of the car. He kept a hold of her hand as he walked her up to the front door. "I had a really nice time tonight, Oscar," she said as she looked up at him, making no move to open the door.

"We'll have to do this again sometime," he said. If his smile showed off his teeth, he didn't much care. But then there was a howl from the woods, and Oscar knew he had to leave. He let out a sigh and looked at their shoes. "I need to go," he said and squeezed her hand.

He stepped away from her, walked back towards his car. "Wait!" He heard her call, stopping him in his track.

There was mere seconds between Oscar turning around and her crashing into him, her lips against his own. Oscar's hands were immediately on her waist, holding her steady as he pressed his lips to her own. But, when she tried to part his lips, Oscar pulled away. Another night.

His forehead was against her own. "I'll be back, I promise."

"Tonight?" She asked, breathlessly.

Oscar drew in a sigh. He immediately knew what she was asking. And, as much as he wanted to, he couldn't. "Not tonight," he answered and immediately saw her face drop.

Oscar kissed her again, this time quickly. "I want to," he assured her, and she set out a breath against him. "I just... I'm scared of your dad."

She laughed against him and released him. "Next time," she said, and Oscar left a promise with a kiss.

He watched as she walked back to the house and let herself in. Even then, Oscar stayed. He climbed into his car and waited until he could see her walk into her bedroom before he drove off.

He didn't drive very far, just parked his car out of the view of her house and made his way back to the woods.

Lando was easy to find. All Oscar had to was follow the sounds of snarling. Of course Oscar was snarling. His emotions was amped up with the full moon overhead.

"Oscar!" Lando barked.

There he stood, curls falling in front of his forehead as he stared at Oscar, chest heaving. His fists were clenched at his sides, veins visible up his arms. Oscar had never seen him look so goddamn angry before. It was... hot.

"What're you doing with her?"

"Maybe I like her," Oscar answered as he leaned against a tree. He watched as Lando stalked towards him, only slightly looking down at him. "Is that really the end of the world?"

Lando's fists shook. "Are you gonna turn her?"

Oscar laughed, heading hitting the tree behind as he threw it back. "We've been on one date, Norris. Don't overreact."

"Damn it, Oscar!" Lando suddenly called, his hitting the tree beside Oscar's head.

Maybe it was the way Lando said it, Oscar couldn't really tell what compelled his next steps. But, suddenly his hands were around Lando's neck as he kissed him.

There was a good minute where Lando was still, eyes wide as he felt Oscar's lips against his own. Part of him couldn't quite believe it was happening, but he didn't go to move away. He'd never admit to enjoying it, but the fact that he didn't move away told Oscar all he needed to know.

When Oscar pulled away, there was only one thing on Lando's mind. His lips. They tasted like her. His brows were furrowed, eyes furious as he kissed him again, pressing his body against the tree.

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bubblybloob · 9 months

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Whoop I finished my reverse Damsel idea. I briefly discussed her in two other posts but I’m going to go further into her here with a better grasp on what she’s about

Pretty long ramble below, so watch out.

Basically, instead of warning her/resisting the Narrator in chapter 1, you, thinking you can’t overpower him, attempt to slay yourself. The Princesses stares at you in horror as you cut into your own neck (this is the route where you don’t initially bring the knife so she’s the more sympathetic version).

She attempts to wrench the blade from you because she has no idea why you’re doing this and doesn’t want you to die. Whether or not she gets the knife though doesn’t matter, because it’s too late and you die.

(Still am stuck on what sort of voice I want. Had a lot of suggestions on stuff like a Martyr sort of voice or one similar to the old Meek voice but the problem mostly stems from characterizing them in a different way to the other voices, which is something I can’t figure out given the situation).

Chapter 2 is titled “The Fae”.

The main room is primarily made of stone, with many unidentifiable chiseled metals and rock, but you don’t stay here for long, nor get given the option of taking the blade, as choosing to approach the blade or the basement will activate a trapdoor that will send you falling to your death. Just as you’re about to meet your demise, something grabs your palm. Looking up, you see the princess, swinging from the ceiling with you in hand.

The Fae is strange, originally she was going to be similarly shallow in nature like the Damsel, but I would compare her uncanniness more to the Razor, with a constant smile, eerie stare, and maybe an off putting voice.

She’s pretty blunt on what she wants, the satisfaction of saving you from this awful cabin and leaving together! Despite her more than ginger attitude towards you (she acts like you are made of glass), she’s actually quite egotistical, with her occasionally praising herself and puffing up whenever she receives applause from you.

She makes unintentional jabs at your incompetency and reminds you “it’s not your fault you’re not cut out for this, really! I’ll get us out of here my handsome corvid!” and sort of talks down to you and always acts like she’s the smartest in the room (and she probably is depending on what voice I make up for the route). She’s also weirdly fixated on your safety and goes above and beyond to protect you from even the smallest splinter, she’d act like you were dying if you got so much as a scratch.

(All of her traits are exacerbated to a worse degree in chapter 3).

Edit: I forgot to mention all of her behavior is inspired by the fae. I forgot that some people aren’t as well versed in fae lore. Fae are, from what I have heard, pretty selfish, manipulative, and possessive all while being downright ethereal, so I gave her a dose of all of those traits and toned it down a smidge.

Her appearance is also meant to be slightly unnerving. She has long elf like ears and eyes that are surrounded by shadow, with large black pits in the center of her eye that are impossible to tell if they are part of her pupil or not. She also gives off a very faint, white light, it’s almost imperceptible but it’s there.

Her dress is more of a skirt than anything with a sash that has long ribbon like ends that are every length all at once at any given time. They easily wrap themselves around objects even if it shouldn’t be physically possible, and she uses them to swing from the ceiling (spider princesses). Her “crown” is made up of a few translucent butterflies that seem attracted to her like magnets, occasionally they flutter about but usually they sit on her head.

I like to think that there are hints to the fact her butterflies aren’t real, just extensions of herself. They might flicker in and out of existence if she’s upset with you or stressed about something.

Another thing of note, like with some other princesses like Nightmare or Thorn or something, she has no chain. (Maybe there’s some creepy dialogue option where she reveals she broke it with her teeth or something more crazy).

Anyway, the princesses states that everything is fine and that this time around she’s going to be the one to rescue you. She fully intends for both of you to escape, and for you to just follow her lead, because she’s going to make sure you’re alright and that nothing will hurt you.

If you follow along she will save you from the dangers ahead, the basement of the cabin has been increased in size and there are rooms with rolling boulders, pits of spikes, etc. These sections aren’t too long, there’s probably like five explore options along with two or three choices you can make per room and there’s only like three of said rooms.

At the end she literally carries you out of the cabin and swings you around all like “We did it! I’m out and you’re safe! Not even a scratch on you, didn’t I do a good job?” Before mentioning how cold it is and getting taken to Ohio by the Shifting Mound.

There is another way this can end however. There are two potential ways to get to this I think.

If you keep questioning her when shes says something’s wrong at some point you get killed by some random trap while you’re distracted. You get killed and probably end up with the Skeptic.

If you don’t let her do the work and instead try to do too many things yourself you also eventually get killed by a trap and probably end up with Stubborn or Contrarian depending on your actions.

There might be a different third chapter that you can get to from another princess but idk what it would be so I’m sticking with the more direct continuation chapter.

You still don’t get the knife here and fall through another trapdoor. This time she doesn’t catch you and instead has already prepared something beneath where you fall to catch you. It’s probably just a plush room, somewhat reminiscent of the Stranger route’s soft stairs, but less existentially horrifying.

Here the princess thinks that maybe leaving the cabin with her is why you keep dying and so tries to convince you staying is the only option and that something bigger is trying to kill you off when you try to leave with her (she’s not wrong that there’s something bigger at play but she isn’t exactly right either). She’s too selfish to just let you leave without her even if her weird logic states that you’d be fine as long as she doesn’t leave with you, so all protests are shut down and she tries to force you if you complain.

If you got Skeptic there is the option of actually convincing her and that no matter what you’ll listen to her every word and you’ll escape together. She’ll listen and similar events to last time will play out, only this time the traps are deadlier but are made much more traversable due to the fact that she gives no fucks and will destroy every obstacle with ease. This time you actually leave and once again Ohio comes and gets her (I like to imagine The Narrator pulls the locked basement door trick and here she just punches through it and stares expectantly at you to turn handle from the other side with the newly created hole).

If you have Stubborn you can attempt to fight her. It probably won’t work at first because she’s the literal fae. But the Narrator, knowing you’re trying to fight now, will make the blade magically fall from the same trapdoor you fell from. And its iron touch can sizzle faerie skin. She doesn’t necessarily want to fight you, but if she has to rough you up some to get you to see things her way, she’ll do it. If you fuck up you’ll probably break something that you need to move or attack with and lose the fight, and she gets taken. If you don’t fuck up and win, same result except she’s got a knife in her chest when the mound comes and nabs her.

With Contrarian you choose to stay with her because funny boy wants to mess with the Narrator. I think maybe one of the traps somehow ends up infiltrating whatever “safe room” you’re in (probably because you’re thoughts spiraling on the thought of not actually being safe and dying again because that’s all you’ve done so far, so your perception kills you. Not sure what trap would kill you, maybe the rolling boulder crashes through the roof or something idk) and ends up fatally wounding you, making it the third time she couldn’t protect you, she stands over your body because “I had this planned, you should’ve been safe, how could this happen???” Before Ohio comes.

Whatever ending you get, she will make for a courageous heart.

I like to think you can kill her with Contrarian and get stuck with her with Stubborn, it’s just that they’d prefer and encourage you to do the opposite. The Skeptic is the only one where you can actually try to leave with her, again you can do the other options but having him is the only path where you can try to escape in the 3rd chapter.

I do have a 3rd chapter design in mind, but I’ll probably need to work on it some.

#slay the princess #stp the princess #art #my art #The Fae #this was a long one wow #I took well over an hour typing all of that #because I’m insane

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scoonsalicious · 7 months

Text

Unwanted: Chapter 3, Unbidden - Pt. 1

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Avenger!Fem!Reader

Summary: When your FWB relationship with your best friend Bucky Barnes turns into something more, you couldn’t be happier. That is, however, until a new Avenger sets her sights on your super soldier and he inadvertently breaks your heart. You take on a mission you might not be prepared for to put some distance between the two of you and open yourself up to past traumas. Too bad the only one who can help you heal is the one person you can no longer trust.

Warnings: (For this part only; see Story Masterlist for general Warnings) Language, alcohol consumption, minor discussions of sex, drunk!Bucky, minor violence, FloRida's Low (that song slaps, okay?), minor anti-Winter Soldier sentiment, an unnecessary Ted Bundy reference just because. As always, let me know if I missed anything!

Word Count: 4.1k

Previously On...: You and Bucky had a heart-to-heart after you came back from your mission with Steve, and Bucky asked a very interesting question about the nature of your relationship with the Star Spangled Man.

A/N: I just finished writing Chapter 9 ahead of schedule, so here is Chapter 3 a little bit earlier than I planned on posting it! Consider it in honor of Sergeant Barnes' 107th Birthday! This is my favorite chapter; I had so much fun writing it, this part in particular (even though it took me a million tries before I got it to where I wanted it). Sam is finally given some page time, and I adore him, so I hope I've captured his essence sufficiently. I sort of love writing drunk!Bucky. Part three is where things are going to take an interesting turn for Bucky and Pocket so I'm looking forward to posting that soon!

Banner By: The absolutely amazing @mrsbuckybarnes1917

Taglist: (Please let me know if you’d like to be added!) @blackhawkfanatic @les-sel @marcswife21 @buckybarnessimpp @jmeelee @cazellen

Slapping your American Express Black Card onto the polished mahogany bar, you made sure the bartender was giving you his full attention. "Everything my group orders tonight goes on my tab, got it?" you told him. "If Tony Stark tries to pay for a single thing, tell him it's already covered and if he has a problem with it, he can take it up with me." The bartender nodded, taking your card and depositing it with the other open tabs behind the bar. It was going to be a very lucrative night for the bar.

You'd all come to Gino's, a downtown dive of place you all loved, to celebrate Bucky's clearance for missions. As a part of his presidential pardon for the Winter Soldier's crimes (completely unnecessary, in your opinion, because Bucky hadn’t been the one to commit them), he had been required to undertake 12 months of court-mandated therapy, and now that he had ten months under his belt, his therapist had signed her approval for Bucky to engage in real Avenger work, provided he was accompanied by another member of the team at all times for supervision. He'd be leaving tomorrow for a classified location with Steve and Sam; they'd be gone for about a week, so you'd wanted to commemorate the event and leave him with some positive memories before he left.

You rejoined your group in the far back, where you'd commandeered the largest corner booth and the surrounding tables. "Tonight's on me," you declared as you approached, "so drink up and eat well." Your friends cheered their thanks; Thor even banged his giant fist against the table in appreciation. You did a mock curtsey before coming to stand behind Bucky where he sat, draping your arms around his neck and shoulders and bringing your head down alongside his.

"Having a good time?" you asked him.

Bucky let out a soft chuckle, leaning back into your touch. "With you by my side? Always," he replied, his voice laced with affection. "But you didn't have to do this, doll. Pay for everything, I mean. We could have all gotten our own."

Letting go of his shoulders, you moved around to sit next to him. "Bullshit. My best friend is going on his first Avengers mission, this is the least I can do."

"Listen, man," said Sam Wilson, also known as The Falcon and, if you were being completely honest, one of your favorite teammates after Bucky, "I know things might have been different when you were younger, but in the 21st Century, when a lady offers to buy you drinks, the polite thing to do is just say 'thank you' and get hammered."

Bucky laughed and chugged down the beer he'd been previously nursing and took the bourbon you'd brought over for him from the bar. "Thank you, Pocket. Though, I don't think I'll be getting... hammered on anything here."

"You're most welcome, Buck," you said, patting his cheek, the stubble tickling at your palm. "But if you are looking to get hammered, I believe our resident God of Thunder has brought a little something extra you could sip on in between beers." You nodded your head toward Thor, who sat a few seats down, pouring a splash of Asgardian something from a flask into Steve's tumbler.

Bucky quirked an eyebrow. "Is that so? Maybe I'll take him up on that." The super soldier got up and, squeezing your hand, made his way over to Thor, who gladly poured a generous splash of spirits into Bucky's glass of bourbon.

You watched him for a moment as he sat and drank with Steve and Thor, a warm feeling building in your chest at the sight of him looking and doing so well. He'd made so much progress since he first arrived at the Tower and you were unbelievably proud of him.

"You've been good for him, Pocket," Sam offered with a raise of his glass. "But I gotta know, when are you two gonna stop tip-toeing around each other and make things official?"

You let out an agonized groan. "Not you, too, Sam. Why don't you and Natty get together and write some fanfic about it? That's about as close to reality as it'll get."

"What are Wilson and I collaborating to write smutty fanfiction about?" Natasha asked as she sat down in Bucky's vacated seat, passing you a shot glass.

"Za nashu druzhbu!" You toasted in unison before downing the sweet liquid. To our friendship!

"A Redheaded Slut shot? How very Natasha," you teased.

"Don't try to change the subject," Sam interjected. "Romanoff: (Y/L/N) and Barnes. They go together like Netflix and chill or what?"

Natasha's eyes lit up. "Absolutely! Oh my God; I'm so glad you see it, too. They're just screaming 'Let's fuck already,' right?!"

"I don't know that they haven't started already," Sam said, obviously pleased to finally have someone to talk about this with. "I've never seen Metalhead as content as when he's with Pocket. Figure she's gotta be doing something to keep a smile on his face, if you know what I mean." He waggled his eyebrows, setting Natasha off into a barking laugh.

"Jesus Christ, Sam!" you sputtered. "I'm sitting right fucking here!"

Sam gave you a sheepish smile. "Sorry, Baby Girl. 'M just calling it like I see it. And with you and Barnes, I see it."

"She's going to stick to the story that nothing's going on between them," Nat began.

"Because there is nothing going on between us," you interrupted.

"But I think we all know something is brewing between those two," she continued, as if you hadn't said a thing. "I mean, do you really think they're just sleeping in the same bed every night?"

"Hold up, hold up." Sam raised his hand to stop Nat. "You're telling me those two share a bed? How long has this been going on and why am I just hearing about it now?"

"Oh my god," you said, putting your head in your hands and wishing the floor would open up and suck you into a hell dimension. It had to be better than sitting here listening to the two of them talk as if weren't in the room.

"You didn't know?!" Nat's expression was incredulous. "Essentially since the moment Barnes moved into the Tower. They alternate whose bed they sleep in, but it's literally every. single. night."

"That's it," you murmured, though you were sure they weren't paying you any attention, "I am never telling you another thing, ever, Natalia." They weren't embarrassing you, per se. You felt no shame about your closeness with Bucky. It was more that you hated that they were making assumptions about him. You could take ones made about you; you'd been doing that your entire life, but Bucky was different. He was... fragile wasn't the right word, but it came close. You wanted to protect him from everything negative, including your friends gossiping about his alleged sex life.

"Guys, please," you said, loud enough to catch their attention. "I know that, whatever I say, it's not going to convince you that I'm telling you the truth, but I don't want Bucky to hear it, okay? You're just going to make him uncomfortable and he'll retreat into himself, close up. So, save it for when you're by yourselves, alright?"

The sincerity in your words caused Sam and Nat's gazes to soften as they looked at you. You hoped that, despite their ribbing, they understood that your concern for your shared friend was genuine, and that, of the three of you sitting at the table, you knew Bucky best.

"Alright," said Sam, "I'll drop it. For now. But know I've got my eye on you, Pocket." He gave you a shrewd look. "Don't think you can keep your secret from Ole Sammy forever."

You shook your head, annoyingly amused.

The evening moved on pleasantly: conversation and alcohol flowed, and you felt yourself loosening up as the shots you'd drank with Natasha worked their way through your system until you were sporting a pleasant buzz. Bucky eventually came back to join you at your table, eyes glassy and with a giant, dopey grin plastered across his face.

"How's that Asgardian liquor treating you, Buckaroo?" you asked him with a grin of your own, knowing full well he was sauced.

"'s real good, Pocket," he slurred, propping his head on his fist and gazing at you with a dreamy expression. "'s nice and tingly, like the sun is shining on my insides."

"I'm happy for you, Buck," you said with a laugh, shooting an amused glance over Bucky's head to Nat, who responded with a smirk of her own. "That's real good."

He put his arms around you and pulled you into him, almost tugging you off of your chair in the process. "No! You're real good. Sho good to me, all warm and fuzzy and pretty. Just wanna keep touchin' you, you know? 'Cause you make me think of happy things." He paused to nuzzle his face into your hair. "You're m'favorite person."

"You're my favorite person, too, Buck," you said, stifling a giggle, amused by this new soft, silly side of him.

"Me?" he squeaked--actually squeaked. You nodded and then let out a surprised squeal as he pulled you into his lap, holding you almost tight enough to be uncomfortable, his metal arm clinging you to his chest. But then he pulled his head back to look you in the eye, his face suddenly serious.

He slurred, leaning in closer. You could smell the sweet scent of the Asgardian liquor on his breath. "Don'tcha dare tell Stevie, though, doll" he hiccupped, "'cause he'd be real put out if he found out I was your fav'rite."

"Well, then we won't tell him," you assured him, casting a bewildered glance to Nat. She subtly shook her head, as if to say she was just as confused as you as to why Steve would care if Bucky was your favorite person.

Bucky nodded solemnly. "Good. Don't want 'im feelin' bad, but 'm not sorry. 'S not my fault, either. He had ages and he didn't do nuthin'. That's on 'im. Not on me, not on you. On 'im." He began petting your hair in long strokes, seemingly distracted by the feel of it and losing his original train of thought. "Mmmm, you're so pretty. M'pretty little Pocket."

"Why, thank you, my handsome soldier," you replied, tapping him playfully on the nose while wondering what the hell he had been going on about concerning Steve. You hoped he wasn't so drunk that he didn't remember this conversation in the morning, because you were going to press the shit out of him for details.

Oh, but then... the next song from the jukebox caught your attention, and you looked up as the opening bars of Flo Rida's Low filled the air.

"Oh no," moaned Nat with a trace of laughter. "You're gonna dance, aren't you?"

A broad grin broke across your face. You loved dancing to anything, but this song was your kryptonite. "I can't help it," you told her, "it calls me, I come. Let's go!" You stood up, taking Bucky's hand and trying to pull him along with you, but the super soldier just shook his head and refused to move. Apparently he wasn't that drunk. "Fine. Sam, Nat, dance with me."

"I'm coming, Baby Girl," Sam said, taking Nat's hand and dragging her to meet you.

As soon as you had the space, you began to move, the music pulsing through your veins, syncing perfectly with your heartbeat. You swayed your hips in time with the infectious rhythm, your body moving effortlessly to the beat.

You felt Sam come up behind you, placing his hands on your hips as he began to dance with you, bass thumping in your chests. You and Sam had danced together countless times before; he was one of the only ones in the Tower who enjoyed dancing as much as you did, so the two of you had had plenty of practice moving together. Your movements may have been completely innocent, but they gave the appearance of something much more intimate-- it was just the nature of the dance. You could feel the heat of Sam's body pressed against your back, the way his hands gripped your hips protectively. It was all in good fun, a playful dance between friends, until you felt Sam's hands fly from your waist as you were about to get low.

You spun around, finding Bucky standing where Sam had been just a few seconds before, Sam now several feet away, anger wearing heavy on his face.

"What the hell, man?" Sam barked at Bucky. "What'd you shove me for?"

Bucky, his face flushed and eyes narrowed with a combination of intoxication and something dark, took a step towards Sam. "Didn't shove ya, Wilson," he slurred, his words blending together. "Ya just...got in the way."

"Got in the way? Man, we were just dancing. How was I in your way?"

Bucky's jaw clenched, his metal arm flexing by his side. The atmosphere shifted, thick with tension, as if the air in the room had suddenly turned molasses-slow.

"Okay, boys." You stepped between them, hands down and palms open, trying to create as much distance between the two as possible. The last thing you wanted was a drunken argument devolving into some kind of brawl. "It's getting late, and we've all had a good amount to drink." You gave Sam a pointed glance. "Bucky, will you take me home to the Tower? I'm pretty tired and I think I'm ready to call it a night."

Sam nodded in understanding-- it would be a hell of a lot easier to get Bucky home in his current state if he thought he was escorting you, instead of the other way around.

"Yeah, 'course, Pocket," Bucky said, his eyes softening as he looked at you. You were able to call out your goodnights to the rest of the team and, leaving instructions with Nat to close out your tab at the end of the night, began making your way to the door. Bucky stumbled a bit, his balance compromised by the alcohol in his system. You wrapped an arm around him, steadying him as you both made your way outside.

Outside the bar, the cool night air was a welcome relief from the noisy atmosphere inside. Bucky leaned heavily against you, his arm draped around your shoulders for support.

"Fuck, Barnes. You're heavy," you groaned under his weight.

"Fuck me, Pocket," he slurred, head tilting to the side. There was that look in his eyes again. The same one you'd seen the day he'd gotten his new arm. You couldn't identify it, but it made the hair on your arms stand up straight.

"Yeah, that's exactly what I said." You could feel his warmth seeping through your clothes, his presence comforting even in his intoxicated state.

"You good to stand on your own for a second, soldier?" you asked him. "I need to hail us a cab."

Bucky nodded and you carefully eased yourself out from under his arm, scanning the street for a taxi. The bustling city night was alive with lights and sounds, creating a tapestry of urban energy that seemed to match the frequency of the electricity that ran through your brain.

God, did you love this city.

As you raised your hand to flag down a cab, you couldn't help but steal glances at Bucky, his hair in disarray, falling into his eyes and his lips slightly parted as he breathed in the cool night air. Even drunk and disheveled, he still looked so handsome. There was a softness to him in the moment that made him look younger, and for a second, you could imagine that beautiful, carefree young man who had been drafted to cross the sea to fight someone else's war, and had paid for it with even more than his life.

A taxi screeched to a stop in front of you, interrupting your reverie. You hurriedly opened the door and helped Bucky inside, sliding in beside him. The cab driver gave you both a curious glance before pulling away from the curb. Once you gave him the address to Avengers Tower, that look got more and more frequent as he kept checking his rear view mirror.

"Hey, eyes on the road, buddy," you snapped at him, probably putting more aggression into your voice than you had intended, but the way the cab driver was looking at the two of you made you uneasy.

The ride back to the Tower was quiet, the low hum of the taxi's engine serving as a backdrop to the thoughts swirling in your mind. Bucky slumped against you, his head resting on your shoulder as he dozed off. You gently ran your fingers through his hair, feeling the softness of it against your skin. The city lights blurred past outside the window, casting a hazy glow over both of you.

"Listen," the cabbie eventually began in his thick New Jersey accent, "sweetheart, ya seem like a nice girl, but I don't think ya know what you're dealin' with, here. That man right there's the Winter Soldier. He's a murderer, a nasty one. The kind that likes to take a sweet thing like you and do horrible things."

You rolled your eyes. If they were going to keep telling stories about the Winter Soldier, the least they could do was get the details right instead of making him sound like Ted Fucking Bundy.

"This nasty murderer is my best friend," you said, each word clipped and infused with the anger you felt on Bucky's behalf. "So, maybe you should stick with getting us to our destination instead of trying to lecture me on something you know absolutely nothing about."

The cabbie fell silent, his eyes darting nervously between the road ahead and the rearview mirror. You could tell that he was regretting his decision to say anything, realizing that he had struck a nerve. Or, you thought with an amused chuckle, afraid that you were just as nasty as the Winter Soldier. But you couldn't blame him entirely. The reputation of the Winter Soldier was notorious, and it was only natural for people to be cautious. You just wished they knew the name Bucky Barnes, and the actual man, himself, just as well.

You sighed and shifted your gaze to Bucky, still unconscious against your shoulder. It wasn't fair, you thought, how people judged him solely based on his past. Yes, there were dark chapters in his history, but he had fought tooth and nail to regain control over his life. He had redeemed himself in countless ways even before he had officially joined the Avengers.

As the taxi approached Avengers Tower, you leaned over and gently shook Bucky awake. His eyes fluttered open, confusion etched in his features for a brief moment before recognition set in.

"We're home, Buck," you whispered softly, trying to soothe away any lingering unease from your brief conversation with the cab driver. "Let's get you upstairs." You threw a handful of bills in the cabbie's direction, not even bothering to wait for him to give you your change; you just wanted out of his cab and away from his prejudice.

Bucky nodded, rubbing sleep from his eyes. With your help, he stumbled out of the taxi and leaned on you for support as you made your way into the building.

"'m sorry 'bout that, doll," he drawled as you passed the security desk, sending a quick wave to the night guard.

"Sorry for what, Buck?" you asked him. He was silent as you made your way to the elevator bay, waiting until you had pressed the button to summon the elevator car.

"'bout the cabbie." He avoided looking at you while you waited, and it was like a punch to your gut-- he'd heard everything that ignorant man had said. The elevator doors dinged open and you helped usher him inside.

You took a deep breath as you pressed the button for your floor, the retinal scanner making quick work to prove your identity and verify your security clearance. "Buck," you exhaled, "you have nothing to apologize for. That man was an asshole and an idiot."

Bucky leaned back against the elevator wall, his head thumping against the cool metal. "But he was right. I am a nasty murderer."

You could scream. You could strangle that cabbie with your bare hands. Bucky had been doing so well, had been having such a good night, and one person's careless remark had ruined all of it.

"Barnes," you said, turning to face him. "Look at me. Do you think I'm stupid?"

His eyes grew wide at the insinuation, even in his drunk state, he was with it enough to be taken aback by your question. "'bsolutely not, doll. You're the smartest person I know. Smarter than Stark, even, 'cause you can admit when your wrong." The compliment left you trying to hide a smile.

"Okay. Do you trust my judgment?"

"With my life," he breathed. The elevator opened to your floor, and you helped Bucky out into the hall and down the corridor toward his room. The soft glow of the hallway lights illuminated his features, casting a warm, intimate aura around the two of you.

"So, if I'm not stupid and you trust my judgment, trust me when I tell you are not what that man says you are. You are a good man who had too many horrible things happen to him. And despite all those horrible things, you are still the kindest, funniest, most gentle man that I know."

As you reached his door, Bucky turned to face you, his eyes filled with a mixture of gratitude and vulnerability. "Thank you, Pocket. Thank you for taking care of me, and for being my friend," he murmured, his voice hoarse with exhaustion and emotion.

A small smile played on your lips. "Always, Buck," you replied softly. "Now let's get you inside."

With a gentle push, you opened the door to his room and guided him over to his bed. Bucky collapsed onto the mattress with a heavy sigh, his body sinking into the softness beneath him. Once you'd pulled off his boots, you knelt down beside him, tucking the blanket around his shoulders.

As you straightened up, Bucky reached out and grabbed your hand, his grip surprisingly strong despite his intoxicated state. His gaze locked with yours, a mix of vulnerability and longing flickering in his eyes.

"I don't want you to leave," he whispered, his voice laced with a hint of desperation.

"I'm just going to hop over to my room to change into pajamas," you assured him. "I'll be right back. Promise." You smoothed his hair, trying to tame it from where it stood up in all directions.

"'kay," he said through a yawn, "but don't take too long. I got somethin' I need to tell ya. 's important."

"Okay," you told him, planting a kiss on his head. "I'll be just a minute." You hurried across the hall to your own room, changing into your pajamas and brushing your teeth in record time.

Re-entering Bucky's room, you were extremely curious as to what he'd wanted to say to you. "Alright, Buckaroo, I'm back. What did you--"

You smiled to yourself. Bucky was fast asleep, light snores emanating from him as he lay sprawled across the bed. You couldn't help but find him adorable in his slumber, especially with his hair sticking up in all directions.

With a soft sigh, you walked over to the side of the bed and gently sat down, watching Bucky's peaceful face. It was moments like these that reminded you of how much he had been through, how much pain and loss he had experienced. Despite his tough exterior, there was a vulnerability about him that tugged at your heartstrings.

You leaned in closer, unable to resist the urge to brush a stray lock of hair away from his forehead. Your fingers lingered on his skin for a moment longer than necessary, feeling the warmth radiating from him. The desire to protect and comfort him overwhelmed you, making your heart ache with affection, and something else that you couldn't quite identify.

Pulling down the covers, you climbed into bed next to him, snuggling up to his body for warmth. He grunted and wrapped an arm around you, pulling you closer to him. It wasn't long before you drifted off into a slumber of your own.

<- Previous Chapter / Next Part ->

#bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes x you #bucky barnes x y/n #bucky x you #bucky x reader #bucky fanfic #bucky barnes #bucky barnes fanfic #bucky x female reader #bucky barnes fic #bucky barnes fanfiction #james bucky buchanan barnes #james buchanan barnes #mcu bucky barnes #james barnes

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mrzombielover · 7 months

Text

- slow ride ch1

feat. sinner!adam x fem!hotel worker!reader

series masterlist | next chapter

warnings: NSFW, enemies to fuckbuddies, adam and reader both suck, unhealthy relationships, size kink oooops, light degradation

a/n: oh my god this is so self indulgent. something is fr wrong with me bc all my favorite men are irrevocably fucked up and toxic and emotionally damaged and would treat me like shit teehee

wc: 2.2k

“You took my shame and you took my pride / And now you gonna take me for a slowride”

When even Charlie is trepidatious about checking someone in to the hotel, you know they’ve fucked up bad.

Adam had shown up, tail between his legs, admitting something about how he’s “desperate enough to try anything,” even this “stupid delusional humiliating hotel.”

Charlie, who’s more like an angel than Adam ever was, had ultimately decided that he could stay. After a lengthy and heated discussion, she’d reminded the group that the hotel’s policy states that everyone deserves a chance at redemption, regardless of the sins they’ve committed. Considering he killed your friend, you thought that was bullshit, but it’s Charlie’s hotel at the end of the day, and you’re just along for the ride.

You like Charlie, which is why you put up with having Adam around. She’s a good person- genuinely, deep down. There’s no hidden motives in her actions. You’ve not met many good people in your life, so she’s won your respect, even if you have your doubts about the hotel’s premise.

But for as much as you love her, you briefly questioned her sanity when she asked you to keep a special eye on Adam.

“…and how exactly is that the job of treasury secretary?” You deadpan.

“Wellll…” Charlie trails off, looking away for a moment. “It isn’t really. Buuut what if I was asking as a favor, for your friend?” She clasps her hands together, giving you a smile. You have to avert your eyes from the hopeful look on her face before your resolve cracks.

“No way in hell,” You say quickly.

“Please!”

“No,”

“Pleaseee!”

You bite your lip as you think. He’s obnoxious, yes, but what’s really the worst that could happen? You close your eyes and sigh.

“…you owe me one,”

You regret accepting every day. Nobody got along with Adam. Well, nobody except for Nifty, who seemed thrilled to have a real bad boy staying in the hotel. You, however, got along with him the least of all.

For someone who’d come to the hotel in his time of need- who was in no position to ask for anything other than forgiveness- Adam sure has a smartass mouth. It seems Charlie just wants to give you a brain aneurysm, that’s why she gave you this job. Even if that wasn’t her goal, that’s certainly the stage you’re approaching, because fighting with Adam everyday is 100% going to make you pop a blood vessel.

You can’t help it. Something about him- the way he acts, the forced proximity, just gets under your skin, makes your eye twitch. He should be groveling, begging for forgiveness, putting his heart and soul into bettering himself, yet all he does is bitch and moan. Constantly complaining would be one thing, hell’s full of whiners, but he also feels the need to voice every thought he’s ever had, which often includes insults and snide remarks about those around him. You’ve never been one to take that shit- though, nobody at the hotel really does. It seems to be much worse with you two, specifically, though.

The problem comes in because, as much as you hate to admit it, you might sometimes occasionally have some things in common with him. No, you’re not quite as loud or crude or obnoxious, you don’t generally insult people for fun, but if someone deserves it?

You’ve tore into people for way less than murdering your friend, showing up on your doorstep and being a pain in your ass 24/7, especially if you’re in a particularly shitty mood. Reduced people to tears for mildly inconveniencing you, having an annoying voice, wasting food, etc etc… all of which Adam does.

Generally, you’re apathetic to what goes on around you, especially at the hotel. You’re fed, don’t have to pay rent, and can pretty much do whatever you want, so dealing with the annoying, traumatized, dramatic residents and staff is a fair trade off in your eyes. Adam should, in theory, be no different than the rest of them to you. So you cannot, for the life of you, figure out what about him makes him so much worse than the rest.

You just try not to think about him as much as possible. But when you ignore him, he just seems to get worse.

“Jesus, you don’t think it’s a bit early to start drinking?”

You mentally groan as you hear his voice, avoiding eye contact as you crack open the bottle.

“I mean, Isn’t this shithole supposed to be for rehabilitation?” You can practically hear the smirk in his voice as he opens the fridge.

“Why don’t you focus on your own rehab first, dick? Been weeks now and you’re still an asshole,” You snap, before taking a swig of your beer. He shrugs, grabbing the orange juice from the fridge and placing it on the counter. He walks past where you’re leaning on the counter to get a glass.

“I mean, damn, you didn’t even try today, huh?”He laughs.

“Why are you pickin’ a fight with me right now?” You raise your voice a little, exasperated and too hungover to deal with this.

“oh, uh, i dunno… i’m bored?” He shrugs again, looking over to you with a self satisfied smile. You groan in frustration, then sigh, forcing yourself to keep it together.

“…and you wonder why your wives left you,” you mumble with a roll your eyes, turning to quickly leave the kitchen. you don’t see his face, but judging from the sound of a crash and footsteps quickly following you into the hallway, you hit a nerve. oh, god, here we go…

“you fucking junkie bitch!” he yells after you as you stomp up the stairs.

“you’re proving my point right now!” you say over your shoulder.

“Like you have room to talk? Let’s bring up your love life, huh?!”

“oh my god shut up!” Angel yells through the door as you pass his room. “Every fuckin’ morning with you two!”

Adam ignores him, continuing to rant as he follows closely behind you, every degrading name he can think of spilling from his lips.

“…fucking whore cunt- whose not even fucking listening to me!” he says as you turn into your room. you turn, attempting to slam the door, but he sticks his foot in the gap and grabs the door, shoving it back open.

“what in the fuck is your problem today?!” you yell.

“it’s you, bitch!”

“oh my god- how do you care about anything this much? Seriously, it’s not that deep!”

you jump a little as he suddenly slaps the beer bottle out of your hands, the glass shattering loudly and the leftover beer soaking your socks. your jaw drops, outraged, and you can’t help the reflex to reach up and smack the side of his head.

“ow!” he yelps, and you raise your fists to hit him again, when-

“you- fucking bitch-!” he shouts. you cry out in surprise as he grabs your wrists and yanks you with surprising ease, shoving you roughly into the wall behind you.

theres a struggle, both grunting with the strain of pushing against each other as Adam wrestles to keep the upper hand. You go to knee him, but he moves quicker, slotting one of his legs between your own and pressing his body against yours to pin you completely against the wall.

then, something changes. he pauses, the close proximity seems to have finally registered in his brain. his eyes widen and you pause too, both panting, faces inches apart. his grip loosens, and a flicker of confusion crosses his features.

“wait, what’s-“

“shut up,” you snap suddenly. before you even realize what you’re doing, your hands are on his chest, and you’re shoving him towards your bed.

“take off your shirt,” you command as the back of his knees hit the mattress and he’s falling backwards. he quickly does as you say, looking up at you with wide eyes as you straddle him and rip your own shirt off as well. he mumbles a nice when he sees you’re not wearing a bra. you reach to tug off the sweatpants you had on, and as soon as you can kick them away Adam’s hands are on your waist and flipping you over. He hurriedly rips off the rest of his clothes before he’s back on you, leaning down to eagerly press kisses down your neck. you have to tilt your head to make room for the horns now permanently attached to his head, and you think of the irony of this situation.

the sound of fabric ripping followed immediately by two of his fingers finding your clit makes you gasp. you bite back a whimper as he begins to rub rough and sloppy circles on your clit. the pleasure doesn’t last long before he’s pulling his hand back, only to shove a finger inside your cunt quickly, and you gasp again. being so unprepared, the stretch burns a bit. fuck, has he always had such big hands? he’s gentle at first, as he works the single finger in and out of you, and once the pain subsides, he quickly adds a second one.

“Oh, fuck,” you can’t help the curse that slips past your lips, and before long you’re rocking your hips against his hand. his movements are rushed and sloppy, impatient as he stretches you out. he chuckles dryly, and you shoot him a glare.

once again, before long, he’s pulling away, and grabbing you by the shoulders to make you sit up with him. you whine involuntarily at the loss of contact, and the cocky bastard laughs again.

“So impatient, babe,” He grins.

“Shut up,” You say again, pushing him so that he’s sitting up against the bed frame. You crawl over to him, and straddle his lap. His hands find your ass, groping it roughly while you grab the base of his cock and align the tip with your entrance.

You both gasp in unison when you swiftly lower yourself to take his full length. A strangled moan escapes from your lips and you let your head fall forward to rest on his shoulder. Eyes squeezed shut, you wait so you can adjust to his size. Seriously, how had you never noticed how big he was before now? Prematurely, Adam angles his hips and suddenly thrusts up into you, making you cry out in pain and pleasure.

“Oh you like that, bitch? Huh?” He says teasingly, running his hands up and down your back before moving his hips again.

“You have seriously got to learn to be quiet,” You retort through gritted teeth, reaching up to pull his hair from the roots. He lets out a groan, followed by a more pathetic whine as you begin to move on his length.

It must be all the pent up emotion, because you’re very quickly unable to speak beyond a few curses and wanton moans. Adam however, can’t seem to stop talking. Mumbling about how good you feel- for a whore, how he didn’t think you’d be so tight, how you’re so fucking sexy he wishes he’d done this sooner.

“Ugh, Adam- shut up!” You groan as you move desperately. He whines as you pull his hair again for emphasis, biting his lip as you feel his hips snap up into yours.

“Oh, god-“ You’re squealing, back arching as you can feel your whole body tense. You’re on top, but as you grow more limp, he’s holding you upright as he roughly fucks into you. “I’m close!” You warn, and it comes out a strangled sob.

You’re so, so close. Euphoria clouds your brain, and collapse onto him as he continues to hold you up to thrust into you.

You fall backwards, and Adam follows, caging you underneath him as he chases his own release now.

“oh- fuck- don’t stop!” You’re practically screaming as your orgasm crashes over you, and you wrap your arms around and claw at Adam desperately, fingernails leaving marks on his fleshy back. You only faintly register the breathless laugh he lets out at your state as he now pounds into you.

He slams into you with an intensity that forces the air out of your lungs, and even Adam can’t form thoughts or speak anymore.

“Oh, fu-uuck, fuck, fuck, oh my god,” He can’t believe the noises that are coming from him, but he also can’t find it in himself to care when you feel this good. You’re so sensitive, and still tight from your previous climax, and he can feel your pulse in the walls of your cunt as you clench around him.

Pleasure quickly turns to overstimulation, and you moan his name again, reaching up to pull at his hair, horns, wings, anything, as tears begin to prick at your eyes. Hearing you moan his name, seeing the look on your face, knowing he’s the one doing this to you is what he needed to send him over the edge.

“o-oh my god-“ he groans, hips stuttering as he presses his body as close to yours as possible, spilling his cum deeply inside of you with an actual moan.

He stays still for a moment, both of your breathing labored, sweat making your hair stick to your foreheads and necks, but you stay holding eachother. While both your brains are still fuzzy, thoughts muddled from the aftershocks, he takes a hand up and wipes your hair away from your face, and the tears from your eyes.

Eventually, he sits up and pulls out of you, rolling over to lay next to you on the bed. Neither of you say anything, too fucked out to think of the repercussions from your actions.

#!my stuff #hazbin hotel #hazbin hotel x reader #adam x reader #ok how do i tag this…#first man adam #first man adam x reader #idfk idc #!not sfw #female reader #this is like so cringe LMFAO #it’s ok tho idc😜

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arcadia-of-pluto · 15 days

Text

Twist of Fate; Chapter Sixteen

Parings; LADS OT4 x reader

Word count; 4.1k

Themes; isekai, eventual smut (slowburn), Canon divergence (wanted to add this)

Warnings; 18+ for swearing and some mature content, a teeny tiny bit of angst

Notes; I decided to post sixteen since I'm really excited for it and I'm currently working on chapter twenty-two! I think I'm going to convert back to shorter chapters in my later entries (like 3k-4k) instead of trying to fit 6-9k in one chapter. But this is a long one! I did re-look it over, but if there are any spelling errors and what not– Just know that I tried my best! 🩷

Also, believe me, I want to put smut as soon as possible, but I should probably mark this as a slow burn tbh. Especially since there's still no smut at chapter 22–

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Masterlist

Sylus, amidst the raging storm, remains nonchalant as he sits next to you. The racing vehicle leaves your enemies behind in the dust while intermittent light seeps through the window to obscure his silhouette and his goals. You never held onto the naive notion that Sylus assisted you in acquiring the aether core just so he could clean house. This kind of deal would result in him suffering a major loss, and it’s clear he’s anything but an ignorant businessman. Though that leads you to speculate…what exactly is his true motive?

For a moment, his expression as he gazed at the Deepspace Tunnel resurfaced in your mind. Then, you feel a growing pain in your palm. You’re still clutching the fragmented protocore, its jagged edge digging into your skin. It’s as if you’re subconsciously grasping onto an answer that has yet to be revealed. The linkage between your wrist and Sylus’ suddenly flickers, seemingly sensing the swirling thoughts in your head.

Then, your phone rings. You notice it’s Luke, one of the twins, calling so you answer with your cuffed hand and put it on speaker phone for Sylus to listen in, since he’s cleaning one of his guns.

“We heard you and boss took care of the traitors and thieves,” You hear Luke say and then, like clockwork, Kieran chimes in, “You even destroyed the aether core together! Good job!” You hear Sylus scoff across from you and you look in his direction, surprised to see a faint smile on his lips. “Just calling to let you know that we cleaned up at the Nest. No one will be causing trouble for you anymore,” Luke chirps.

“Huh? When did..?” You murmur. “Our boss told us to do it. While he looks mean, he’s actually–” Kieran is cut off by Sylus, “See you later.”

“Oh, boss! I didn’t mean to–”

You hang up on Kieran before he can dig himself an even deeper grave. “So..What’s your plan?” You ask, keeping your linked arm close to him. “Chop it off.” He answers rather quickly and your eyes widen. “But it seems to be some kind of energy linkage. Can I even physically attack it?” You ask, confused. Sylus sighs and shakes his head, “I was talking about your hand.”

“Huh–” “Or you can also settle down in the N109 Zone. I have more than enough time to solve this problem with you,” He looks over at you as he leans back against the wall. “No thanks. Let’s use a more efficient approach.” You press your lips together in a forced smile and Sylus lazily drawls, “Let’s destroy the aether core in your body.”

He holds the gun up and you raise a brow, “You’re saying our aether cores created this link? Okay, why don’t we destroy yours then?” Sylus almost seems like he’s pouting before he looks down, “Nevermind. With your current level of resonance, it won’t last long.” “But before I started resonating with you, I saw a strange vision,” You say with a sigh, finally deciding to bring up something that’s been bothering you.

“It’s not a big deal. From now on, you’ll be seeing more things like that.” He says casually and your brows furrow. You sure hope not. You almost confused the vision for reality so if you get anymore, you might actually have a panic attack.

“So that...was real?” You clear your throat, trying to get more information. This must have something to do with past lives, especially since you know you share a past life with the other three love interests– well, not you but the original protagonist. “If I say yes, will you give me a sincere apology?” Sylus seems to be casually skirting past any questions you throw out, just like the other love interests would.

“Y/n, this world is different from what you see. But I’m not in the mood to tell stories at the moment.”

As he says this, he uses his evol to take your brooch from you, holding it in between his fingers. “You should think about your next move after leaving the N109 Zone.” He holds the brooch back out to you, “And don’t forget our deal.” You take the brooch back, feeling a bit cold in your dress and Sylus sets his coat over your lap.

“Then, you should make sure I can leave safely. How about escorting me tomorrow?” Your hands subconsciously grip his coat on your lap, worried he’ll say no.

“The outside world is more dangerous now.” Well, he didn’t say no, so he’ll probably leave with you. “Thanks for the warning. I’ll be careful,” You sigh, looking down at the coat in your lap before your gaze leads your eyes back up to his face.

“In any case, until the resonance issue is fixed, we’ll be meeting more often in the future.” Is all he says, and then the car ride back to his place is as silent as ever. Your eyes slowly close and you find yourself unable to stay awake…You fall asleep with more questions and no answers.

The next time you open your eyes, you find yourself in an unfamiliar, yet oddly familiar, place. A classroom? Though, you soon realize that you have no control over your actions. Your body follows through with whatever, as if this were a stage play. The only form of autonomy you have is your thoughts.

Your gaze drifts across the classroom before landing on a familiar silvery-blond haired man. Though before this, you pretend to look at the clock on the classroom wall so you’re not blatantly staring at him. Then, your gaze can slowly drift to his face. You have to calm down your beating heart and do your best to avoid his eyes, if and when he looks back in your direction. Otherwise, you’ll be caught red-handed.

Pretending to be nonchalant, you shift your gaze away from those tranquil eyes and turn around. According to the First Law of Cosmic Attraction, when a person unwittingly looks at someone, there’s a 98.8% chance it’s because he’s looking at you too. Perhaps you caught him red-handed as he stared at you.

What is going on? Why is Xavier here? What is this memory? Or…is it all a weird dream?

It’s not a dream. Definitely not, as unfamiliar memories fill your head and overwhelm you. Three years ago, when Xavier first arrived at the academy, it was a rare sunny day. It was the Year 214. Two hundred and fourteen years have passed since Philos’– Philos?– birth. It also means 214 years have passed since Earth’s demise.

What?

Your teachers, born during the Age of Earth, said the people of Philos had substituted Earth’s extinguished core with a powerful, artificial one. This core holds fragmented land masses together, preventing them from scattering into the starry sea. So aside from more dust, more cloudy days, and cumbersome travel between tectonic plates, your planet isn’t much different from the Earth of years past. Your feet have never touched the soil of other places on Philos. Since your evol manifested early on in life, the academy is all you’ve ever known.

Also, unlike everyone else who were brought here after their evol awakened, Xavier was a transfer student.

The memory of meeting Xavier for the first time suddenly flashes before your eyes. It was a sunny day. He was tall, skinny, and wearing the white school uniform. His eyes were a shade of light blue, as pretty as the sky that day. He enters the classroom with a wooden sword strapped to his back and glances at the seating chart, then walks to the last row by the window and sits down without a word. Serene and precise like light itself.

Other than “thank you” and “excuse me”, the two of you barely talked. You only got to know him through your classmates’ words. He didn’t live on campus because his family background was complicated and he was always surrounded by bodyguards. The rumors got even more outrageous and mysterious the more they were passed around. Yet the more enigmatic he is, the more curious you were about Xavier.

You knew this was just a memory, but you felt so immersed in it. It felt like you were actually living through it. As the dream went on, you were slowly losing touch on which reality was originally your own.

In this memory, you also realized that the you of the past (or perhaps the future?) had a crush on Xavier.

You always thought you and Xavier would continue like this, coexisting yet separated by a wall of mist but then…during your astronomy lecture, your teacher mentioned a once-in-a-century meteor shower happening next month. Seeing a meteor shower on a planet, where clear skies are a rarity…It’s even a once-in-a-century event. If you could see it with someone you like then…You could die without regrets. Die?...You were dying?

As you sat under the scorching sun with your wooden sword, you watched Xavier train and wondered how you were going to ask him. You write down what you’d say in the dirt with your sword-tip, knowing you’d forget immediately upon actually speaking with him.

People like Xavier…They’ll experience many centuries, so a once-in-a-century event probably won’t be that exciting for him…As long as Philos’ core still has energy, their lives shall last forevermore like the planet, but if he learns you’re a person who can’t even live to see 100 years, then maybe he’ll do anything you say out of pity. But that would ruin everything, you don’t want his pity.

Once class ends, you look for Xavier, noticing he’s gone before spotting him in the crowd by the academy gates. You hurry over and notice many bodyguards surrounding Xavier at a distance. They weren’t wearing black like a bodyguard were, but they exude an air of oppression. Xavier, who seems like he’s used to being stared at, actually appears slightly upset for once.

It’s completely different from how he was earlier– looking so tranquil with the sunset behind him. You knew absolutely nothing about him, but all you knew was he was not happy at the moment and you didn’t like that.

“Xavier!” You hear your voice shouting as loudly as you can. You were still terrified at the realization that you really couldn’t control yourself. You weren’t even sure how long you’d been asleep. Whether it’s been a few minutes, a few hours, days even. You hope it hasn’t been long. You didn't want to worry Sylus.

Xavier turns around with a slightly puzzled expression that softens when your eyes meet. You quickly walk up to him, saying a teacher requested his presence. Then, you grab his hand and start running in the opposite direction. As for where you were heading, you hadn’t thought that far yet. Even though you don’t see Xavier’s expression, you feel his grip on your hand gradually tighten.

“They’re catching up.” His voice scatters in the wind and while you’re dazed, he pulls you into a round tower and enters an empty auditorium. The lights are off and you both are like animals who escaped their enclosure, breathing heavily in the dark. Some time passes and Xavier pulls out a nearby chair and sits on another desk. You stare at him for a moment before realizing that he’s asking you to sit. “Why did you help me?” Sitting on the table, he’s taller than you by a considerable amount. His eyes, swirling light in their depths, look down at you in the dark.

“You…appeared to be upset, so I thought you wanted to be free.”

“How did you know I was upset?”

“Well…We’re classmates, aren’t we? It’s normal for me to be able to read your expression!” You try to find a way to explain yourself and Xavier speaks, “You learned by sneaking glances at me during class?”

“...There’s a reason for that!” Xavier looks at you as though he’s expecting an explanation. “I wanted to ask..Oh no, I mean, I wanted to invite you to watch the meteor shower at Skymirror Salt Flat with me. I heard the lake is really shallow so when light reflects on its surface, it’s exactly like a mirror. It’s going to look stunning with the meteor shower! Besides, a once-in-a-century thing…There won’t be another next time!” You find yourself rambling in nervousness.

“It’s just another hundred years.”

“For you, maybe! But for me..”

“Huh?”

“It’s nothing…You’ll…Do you want to go or not? It’s truly pretty!” You took your chance to ask, but you’re met with silence. You could feel your heart plummeting to the ground with a heavy thud as Xavier’s gaze became distant. He only responds after some time has passed. “I can’t.”

“Is it…because of those people?”

Xavier appears to be shocked, then he nods without saying a word.

Xavier…You can be so cruel. You sigh internally and even though you know this isn’t you, you can’t help but also feel hurt. Your chest feels tight and, if you had control, you might’ve even teared up.

You watch as your hand reaches out and pokes the corner of his mouth. “Don’t be sad. I’ll just go by myself! I’ll...bring your wish with me to the stars when I do. What’s your wish?”

“I don’t have one.” His response is as quick as ever. “How could someone not wish for anything? Oh! Do you want me to make a wish for you?” You quickly rise up from the chair and face him.

Then, you close your eyes with your hands clasped in front of your chest and wish with all your heart. “I wish Xavier is forever free to do what he wants.” He’s stunned for a moment before asking, “What about you? What’s your wish?”

“I wish I could be healthy, but I don’t even know if wishing on a star actually works.” You sheepishly laugh, rubbing the back of your neck before the room goes silent. Though, you don’t open your eyes yet, waiting for the shooting star in your heart to pass before you open them.

Suddenly, a flash of light appears and you look around in confusion, only to see it’s actually coming from Xavier’s hand. It gives an almost romantic feel in the dark.

“This shooting star has made a promise to you.”

After that day, you and Xavier had gotten much closer. Borderline friends even. You don’t have much interaction because of his bodyguards, but you do pass notes between each other during class and wave goodbye to him when he leaves. He’d sometimes poke you in the back to give you one of his earbuds, sharing his music taste with you. He even helped you clean up the classroom whenever you were caught passing notes with him and gave you an umbrella when you had forgotten yours.

You start to think maybe Xavier had a crush on you as well in this memory…

You also learn he’s been trained with his sword since he was little, he doesn’t exactly enjoy it, so it’s implied that he’s being forced to wield a sword just because he’s good at it. And as he’s about to bring up the meteor shower, his bodyguards stand in the way...

With a heavy heart, you think that if a wishing star does make your wish come true, then you wish you could be healthy. Then, you could wait another hundred years to watch the meteor shower with Xavier.

Then, the memory jumps to you laying in the nurse’s office with Xavier sitting next to the bed. It seems that whatever was wrong with your heart was getting worse.

You could hear the rattling of pills in a plastic bottle as Xavier shakes it in his hands, before setting it down on the table.

“How long were you going to hide this from me if you didn’t faint in class today?”

You don’t reply, trying your best to play dead. “Don’t pretend to be asleep. I know you’re awake.” His tone is soft, but it makes it all the more difficult to avoid him.

You decide to tell him everything that was wrong with you and then wait for him to say something.

“What’s protocore syndrome?”

“It’s probably…a terminal illness that makes my heart weaker and weaker?”

“Is there no cure?”

“There is but…we need a special protocore.” You let out a heavy sigh, not wanting to say too much and burden Xavier. You have already given up in extending your life at this point.

“What kind?”

“They say there’s a protocore that can cure any illness…” You can tell Xavier is thinking too hard about it so you sigh, “Philos is huge. It will take ages to find it. Don’t worry. I’ll be alright for now because of this medicine…Besides, maybe a miracle might happen and I’ll be cured.”

Quietly, Xavier turns toward the window and then looks back at you, “Let’s watch the meteor shower together.”

You’re not sure how long the dream goes on. Months pass, seasons change and it’s late autumn now. You’re completely lost in this dream. Your heart restless and unsteady as you found it hard to sleep in this dream, going 24 hours without sleep at this point. It was driving you crazy. All of these feelings and you weren’t even sure which was truly your own anymore.

You board the train to Skymirror Salt Flat, getting off at your stop, and then you walk and go from a leisurely stroll to a sprint. Running across the moonlit slope and through the winding path, you finally see the mirror-like lake that’s akin to a shard of a dream. And standing in the center of the flat, underneath the still starry sky, is a familiar figure.

This is the first time you’ve seen Xavier without his uniform and his figure is perfectly illuminated by the moonlight. You hurry to him, stepping into the water that doesn’t even reach your ankles. Xavier turns toward you and grabs your hand unexpectedly, taking you to the trestle bridge to sit. You sit with one leg over the other, swinging them over the edge. Then, you quickly look around for his bodyguards, worried.

“You don’t have to check. They’re not here.”

“Truly? You got rid of them?”

“Yes.” But you notice his gaze is being a bit evasive after he says this. His eyes seem even brighter from the light reflected on the ground. “Why are you thinking about others when you requested I watch the meteor shower with you?”

Before you can answer, a star flies across the lake’s reflection. “It’s starting!” You both gaze up as the dark, inky sky was illuminated with clusters of stars and various colours. You clasp your hands together and make a wish and when you open your eyes, you see Xavier is doing the same thing. You ask what he wished for, but he shakes his head and says he can’t tell you.

Silence falls over you both before you stand up, excited. “Wait, I want to give this to you.”

Internally, you’re shocked as you see the familiar sword tassel with a star-shaped charm in your hand. He…still has that on his sword in the present day…

“Can I hug you?”

“What?”

Thinking you misheard him, you look into his eyes for confirmation. “Can I hug you?” He repeats himself. His tone is soft, fluttering to your ears like the wind.

Before you can react, he takes a few steps closer and leans down to hug you, all in one motion executed with calm precision. You’re stunned, but then your hands slowly climb up his back.

“Thank you. My wish came true.” He whispers into your ear, “Next time there’s a meteor shower, let’s visit this place again.”

Oh…Xavier, you poor thing. You knew deep down, there’s no way that the you of this time period would live to see another meteor shower. Your heart aches at this thought.

Ever since the meteor shower, your health has been on the decline. Your trips to the hospital became more and more frequent until you practically lived there, unable to leave. You expected this, but you didn’t expect it to be so soon.

It was as if you were being punished for even a moment of happiness.

And as you got more and more ill, you didn’t see Xavier for a while. It was like he disappeared without a trace. You had tried to contract him, but to no avail.

One, two, three days passed in this hell...You began to get more and more anxious about how this memory was going to end. Would you feel the pain of dying? Would it even hurt? Would you die alone?

Did he lose his freedom when he went to see the meteor shower with you?

Exactly one month after the meteor shower, you force yourself to sneak out of the hospital and back to the salt flat. You had a sinking feeling he’d be there.

Not too long ago, you could run and jump as much as you pleased but now, it feels like such a pain. It’s even hard to make your way to the trestle bridge you sat with Xavier on not too long ago. You knew your days were numbered. Who knows? You might even pass away today.

You’re not even sure how long you stayed at the bridge, but you waited there. Hoping, praying that Xavier would show up but after a few hours, you go to stand up and leave. But then, you notice a star reflected in the distance. It hangs on the pommel of a wooden sword, swinging back and forth.

It’s Xavier.

He’s running. To you.

He stops in front of you and that’s when you notice the wounds on his hands and face. Catching his breath, he holds out his hand to show you a small, glowing protocore.

This is the first time he’s looked at you with desperation in his eyes. When he moves closer, you notice a ring of light around his neck. It’s a striking, suffocating red.

“Did you…exchange your freedom for this?”

He doesn’t answer and instead says that this protocore can save you. He found it, but this withering heart inside of you was like a flickering candle about to go out at any moment, holding on only by your desire to see Xavier again.

“It’s too late. Return the protocore where you found it, alright?” You shoot him a small, pained smile and Xavier doesn’t say anything, clutching the protocore until his knuckles turn white.

“You promised we’d watch the meteor shower again.” He chokes out and his eyes are glossy with tears.

“We have our own destinies…some things can’t be forced..” You reach out to poke the corner of his mouth, “Don’t be sad. I’ve been very happy this past month..” But you can’t help the tears that stream down your cheeks. You didn’t want to cry in front of him...you wanted to stay strong in front of him, but you just couldn’t.

You both sit down on the bridge and you manage to say, “If I wasn’t sick, would you watch the stars with me?”

“Yes...” Xavier puts his arm around you, letting you lean on his shoulder, “Not just the stars. I’d show you the mountains and rivers, the sun and the moon. We’ll see them together. I promise.”

“Okay, but…not the mountains. Hiking is a lot of work and I don’t want to–” Xavier cuts you off mid-sentence and squeezes your hand in his as he promises, “No matter what happens, I’ll be by your side. And no matter how long you rest I’ll wait for you.” “Alright, since you insist, I’ll just…have to..agree..”

Leaning on Xavier’s shoulder and dreaming of a disease-free future makes you happy. You feel your strength gradually disappear. You use whatever you have left to look up at the sky.

“It’s a shame…there’s no stars tonight.” You say, weakly. Your hand reaches up toward the inky black abyss.

“There is one.” He holds out his hands in front of you, his palm glowing. His shooting star is shining for you again. You pull your hand back to shakily touch the light in his hand with a finger. A smile tugged at your lips as your eyes felt heavier by the second.

You close your eyes and whisper your final wish. “I wish to meet you in my next life…I wonder if that will come true..”

“It will.” He holds your hand, giving you one last shooting star with his evol. It’s nice and warm and…it feels like someone is calling your name from above.

Your eyelids felt so heavy… And then, you suddenly can’t open them anymore. Before you fully lose consciousness, you hear a warm, gentle voice reach your ears like a shooting star.

“No matter how many times it takes, no matter where you are...I will find you.”

To be honest, it's really difficult for me to write about the reader actively looking into the past and being cognizant of it, but also having no control over their actions. Like the most I can do is have you comment on what is going on in your head, and even that doesn't feel like enough– but I tried and that's all the matters! I'm sure it comes off well enough. And I'm sure you know what this means...More past life dreams are coming very soon!

This is the big thing that inspired this story to begin with. I saw a TikTok where someone was talking about "what would happen if mc remembered her past lives? Would she blame herself?" Because everyone in the comments agreed that she had the saddest past lives because she's in all of them and is usually the 'reason' for bad things happening. So I wanted to do my own take on that, but with isekai, since that seemed that it would be fun! But now, it's turned into so much more than that. I can't wait to share more chapters with yall and Rafayel's myth is next!

Taglist; @orphicmeliora , @yoongi-tunes , @mitzkooni , @hiqhkey, @tanspostsblog

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actuallyadhd · 11 months

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Book: The Procrastination Equation Subtitle: How to Stop Putting Things Off and Start Getting Stuff Done Author: Piers Steel, PhD Publisher: Random House Canada Year: 2010

This isn't going to be a really formal book review or anything, I just thought I'd provide you guys with the pertinent information, in case you want to read it yourselves. :)

So, basically, Piers Steel is an industrial psychologist who specializes in procrastination. He teaches at the University of Calgary, in the Haskayne School of Business. He started studying procrastination because he procrastinated, so once again we have an expert who used his own problems to influence his studies. :D

The procrastination equation isn't a real equation - that is, it's not something you can plug actual numbers into and figure out what your procrastination number is. It's more of a theoretical approach to the definition of procrastination, that explains how and why people procrastinate. Written as a mathematical equation, it looks like the picture at the top of this post.

In other words, what we expect to receive for a task, multiplied by its intrinsic value (to us), all divided by how impulsive we are times how far away the due date is, equals how motivated we are to actually work on the task in question. The less motivated we are, the more we're going to put it off. This is why so many post-secondary papers are written the night before they're due: the papers are assigned months ahead of time, there is no certain expectancy of a good grade, and young adults are rather impulsive and don't really like working hard on things anyway. So the motivation to write the paper is really low until just before it's due.

One of the things I found really interesting about this book was the stuff about how brain function affects procrastination. Basically, it's the conflict between the limbic system and the prefrontal cortex that buggers us up. In reading about this, I kept thinking to myself, "he's describing ADHD!" but he never uses the term once, in the entire book.

The limbic system is the part of our brain that makes us do things when we want to do them. It's basically the seat of impulsivity. (Oh, by the way, he uses the word "impulsiveness" throughout the book. I prefer "impulsivity," even if my spell checker doesn't believe it's a word.) The limbic system is perfect for a hunter-gatherer society. Of course, evolution means that we are always perfectly designed for the environment we no longer live in. :)

The prefrontal cortex is the part of the brain that deals with executive functioning. It's where we make plans, follow through on plans, and all that other great stuff that is basically contrary to the nature of the limbic system.

On to the practical stuff...

First there was a self-assessment quiz (it's in chapter two, if you decide to read the book). People procrastinate because they have low expectancy, low value, or high impulsivity. As it turns out, my problem is mostly with impulsivity. In other words, I postpone doing things until the last minute because other stuff keeps catching my attention. I do the other things first, not because I don't think the first tasks are important (value) or will pay off in the end (expectancy) but because whatever it is that I end up doing instead is just way more interesting in the moment--long-term thinking just isn't my strong suit. (I'm pretty sure this is due to ADHD because I would always do all the research for a paper right when it was assigned, and then sit on my notes and let things percolate until the night before it was due. So I'd be completely prepared for the assignment and not complete it, even though I had everything I needed in order to do so.)

Chapters 7-9 are the ones that have the actual practical approaches to combat procrastination. I took notes on all of them, but of course not all of them are techniques that are going to be useful for me. I'm going to copy my notes anyway, though, because some of you guys might get something out of it, too. :)

Each bold header below has to do with a reason for doing something; the italicized sub-headers are the names of the ways you can deal with problems in that area, and are followed by explanations of how the methods work.

Expectancy

Success Spirals (+)

Set an ongoing series of challenging but ultimately achievable goals; maximize motivation and make the achievement meaningful.

Think of an area of life of real interest and strive to improve just a little beyond your current skill set.

Break town the tasks that daunt you into smaller and smaller pieces. Keep formal track of your progress. Count your successes.

Vicarious Victory (+)

Find an inspirational role model and/or a positive social peer group.

Seek inspiration from stories or others; it is easier to believe in yourself if you are surrounded by people who believe in themselves--or you!

Join a community, service, or professional organization.

Start your own support group; can be anyone, as long as it is mutually encouraging friends.

Wish Fulfillment (+)

Visualization, either mental contrasting (what you want vs what you have) or creative visualization (what you want, as per The Secret; not as effective as contrasting).

Think about the life you want; focus on just one aspect (break it down!); elaborate on what makes it attractive (e.g., diary, collage, quiet concentration); mentally contrast future with present, focusing on the gap.

Plan for the Worst, hope for the Best (-)

Rather than believing you can entirely and easily beat the problem of procrastination, believe that you can beat it down.

Determine what could go wrong, reflect honestly on past experiences, and ask for advice; list ways you habitually procrastinate and post it where you work; avoid pre-determined risks as much as possible; develop a recovery plan ahead of time; use the recovery plan.

Accept that You're Addicted to Delay (-)

Acknowledge powerlessness over procrastination: truly acknowledging that any single failure of willpower inevitably leads to the collapse of all your self-control gives you far more motivation than believing that occasional lapses can be safely contained.

Keep a daily log of procrastination habits; acknowledge that a weak will is the biggest problem, and "just once" is the beginning of the end; accept that the first delay justifies all the rest of them.

Value

Games and Goals

Finding the balance between the difficulty of your task and your ability to do it is a key component for creating flow, a state of total engagement.

The rist of procrastination diminishes when tasks are relevant, instrumentally connected to topics and goals of personal significance.

You need a string of future goals that you find intrinsically motivating to hook your present responsibilities onto.

Frame long-term goals in terms of the success you want to achieve (approach goal) rather than the failure you want to prevent (avoidance goal).

Make tasks more challenging; connect tasks to long-term goals (what you find intrinsically motivating); frame goals in terms of what you want to achieve rather than what you want to avoid.

Energy Crisis

Spoons (mental and physical).

Do difficult tasks at peak performance times; don't get hungry; exercise lots; make sleep predictable; respect your limitations.

You Should See the Task I'm Avoiding

Doing other things instead of the thing we're supposed to be doing - getting things done, but not the "right" thing.

Identify something you've been putting off, then things that are more enjoyable and do them instead/first.

Double or Nothing

Procrastinators tend not to reward themselves for getting things done.

Anticipated rewards make the work more enjoyable, which helps winning.

List rewards you can self-administer, promise yourself these rewards; consider ways of making tasks more enjoyable (pairing) without overriding the work.

Let Your Passion be Your Vocation

Finding work you want to do is a major step toward avoiding procrastination.

http://online.onetcenter.org/find/descriptor/browse/Interests

Look at careers involving activities you love or like doing; filter out all the occupations for which you don't possess skill or ability; rank by demand.

http://careervision.org

Impulsivity

Commit Now to Bondage, Satiation, and Poison

As you get closer to a temptation, your desire for it peaks, allowing the temptation to trump later but better options.

Throw away the key: eliminate the alternatives.

SatiationL meet your needs in a safe and managed manner before they intensify and take control (schedule recreational activities first, then add chores - "unschedule").

Try poison: punish failure.

http://www.stickk.com/

Identify your temptations, then...

Put them out of reach or far away;

Satisfy your needs first; or

Add disincentives to make them unattractive.

Making Paying Attention Pay

Inside out: pay attention please!

Frame in terms of abstract and symbolic features.

Ascribe negative qualities and consequences.

Outside in: now you see it, now you don't.

Regain stimulus control by making it harder to access or even notice the temptations.

Declutter and replace the clutter with triggers for tasks you usually procrastinate on.

Make workplace a cue by working until motivation disappears; then go elsewhere to goof off (this could be just another profile ont he same computer so you have to log off and back in if you are going to goof off).

Use covert sensitization to make distractions less inviting; focus on abstract aspects of temptations; eliminate cues; replace distraction cues with work-related cues; compartmentalize work and play as much as possible.

Scoring Goals

The finish line is just ahead.

Set corporeal goals with real deadlines, use mini-goals to get started on a task, structure the goals so that they are appealing (i.e., inputs [time invested] vs outputs [what's produced]).

Full automatic.

Intentionally adopt a routine; make an explicit intention to act (if-then is pretty good for this).

Frame your goals in specific terms so that you know precisely when you have to achieve them; break down long-term goals into a series of short-term objectives; organize your goals into routines that occur regularly at the same time and place.

"Optimal self-control involves not the denial of emotions but a respect for them."

#actually adhd #procrastination #book reviews

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seenoversundown · 3 months

Text

For Death Or Glory : Chapter Eight

Jake Kiszka x Charlotte (Fem OC)

Warnings: DRINKING / ALCOHOL (bigger warning because they are actively drinking in this one, not just in the bar) Swearing, Sex is mentioned (not had) A LOT of ridiculous puns and jokes, Slow Burn is REAL, Halloween Costumes, Brotherly Banter (gentle bullying) and finally, our favorite warning, YEARNING.

Word Count: 7k (longest so far!!)

Summary: IT'S HALLOWEEN BABES; Josh decides to decorate the bar for the holiday and so, they make it into a little party. Jake hesitates on what to do about Charlotte, but goes with his gut. And BOY IS THAT A LITTLE TREAT.

Author's Note: I said this week would be a sweet treat and I think that you'll find that it is! I don't want to spoil the surprise but, I think you'll be excited to see what it is 🤭 See you on the other side!

Crush - Tessa Violet "You make it difficult to not overthink, And when I'm with you, I turn all shades of pink, I wanna touch you, but don't wanna be weird."

Jake POV

“You know, whatever you decide to hang up, we need to be able to get down, right?”

I stand there watching Josh not so carefully hanging off the ladder’s top step. Quinn looks less than impressed while they stand on the bottom step.

“Maybe Jake is onto something, Josh Groban,” they tell him.

Josh stops, looks back with a glare, and then returns to whatever he is trying to do.

I look over at them, both of us shaking our heads, knowing that Josh will do whatever he damn well pleases.

“He’s your problem to deal with now,” I tell them, gently squeezing their shoulders as I pass by.

Deciding to make sure the bar is fully stocked for the night, I can’t help but eavesdrop on Sam and Willa as they try to get ‘cute post-worthy’ pictures for the bar’s Instagram.

“Sam, can you just work with me?” Willa asks, letting out a frustrated sigh.

“Birdie, you know this is also my job?”

“Yeah, well, last time you took promo photos, you stole all my flowers, AND you hated the outcome. So, maybe just listen to me?”

“I’m not trying to be difficult, little bird,” Sam says, “You just need to relax.”

“When has telling a girl to relax ever ended well for you?”

I was chuckling to myself as I listened to them and took notes of what needed to be pulled from the back. I hate dragging myself away from the free entertainment, but I need to keep moving so the bar can be ready tonight.

I wasn’t the one who came up with the idea to do a themed night; you can only imagine who suggested it, but people have been talking about it lately, so maybe it was a good choice. Even though I had to explain to Josh that we cannot require people to wear costumes, I think it’ll be fun to see everyone dressed up.

Looking at the back stock and pulling out the things we’ll need, I hear footsteps approaching me. I simply glanced at the doorway to finally be met with Josh’s presence.

“So.. are you going to invite her?”

My eyebrows pull together a bit, “Who?”

“Your First Mate,” Josh says, wiggling his eyebrows at me.

“Oh shut up,” I quip back, “I was thinking about it.”

Regret has never hit me quicker.

“OH ARE YOU NOW?”

“I mean… you saw her the other day, Josh. She’s obviously not having a great time and the fact she has to keep coming here, I may as well at least extend the offer.” I tell him, “Even if she’ll probably say no.” Quickly, I look back at my notes to make sure I’m not forgetting anything before walking back out to the bar.

“Well, you have been talking to her,” he says.

“We’ve texted .. a little bit,” I tell him, knowing that he will pry for more information, “BUT– it’s nothing crazy. I just wanted to make sure she was okay.”

He follows me, offering no assistance carrying anything but absolutely still trying to make something out of nothing.

“That’s very you… of you to do.”

Both of us looked vaguely unimpressed at that statement.

“Okay, that wasn’t my best work. I’m just saying that maybe there’s a chance you two could be something of an item,” he tells me, a little too giddy for my liking.

Setting everything on the bar abruptly, “Jesus Christ, Josh. Just because I’m nice to the girl doesn’t mean I want anything more.” I’m trying to sound convincing, even though I know he will call me on it at any moment. I wouldn’t be opposed to it, though. But for god’s sake, Josh doesn’t need to know that.

“Okay, okay, alright, I’ll stop,” he starts, holding his hands up. But know that I will find out if anything happens between you two,” he squints at me before turning around to continue helping Quinn decorate.

I watch as he finds himself busy again, but I can tell from a distance that he updates Quinn on his interrogation. If there is anything I know about my brother, it is that he will know everything about everyone all the time, which in turn means Quinn knows everything as well. I let out a small sigh while piling bottles of Modelo back into the fridge. Maybe I should just text her. Is that weird? She’s going to say no anyway.

Still squatting down behind the bar, I pull my phone from my back pocket. Unlocking it to a handful of email notifications and a few texts from Sam that I ignored earlier. I love him, but he doesn’t need to ask me every time if he can take some promo pics for the bar.

I tap on her conversation; my thumbs hesitate for a second. Is this stupid? Am I wasting my metaphorical breath? Maybe she’ll appreciate the thought.

Me: Hi there. How are you? Are you busy tonight by any chance?

I shove my phone back into my pocket before standing back up, grabbing the few loose cans and bottles across the bar, and tossing them. Looking around at the new decorations, they all have managed to get hung up already, and it’s definitely feeling much more festive.

“Josh, can you–” I start, but I feel my phone vibrate, stopping me mid-question, “Uh, lost my train of thought. I’ll get back to you on that,”

I grab my phone and see her name sitting there, making the heat rise in my face.

Charlotte: No, I’m free. Why?

The three dots pop up before I can reply, making me more nervous.

Charlotte: Do you need help with something?

Me: nooo I don’t need anything from you. We’re just doing a little thing here for halloween and I thought I would see if you were interested. No pressure or anything lol.

Those god-forsaken three dots come back, then disappear, and reappear. There is no worse form of torture in the modern day than waiting for a text to pop up.

Charlotte: Maybe

Okay… Well, it isn’t a no. I look up to find Josh directly in front of me, scaring the shit out of me. I didn’t realize he could be quiet enough to do that.

“Can I help you?”

“You looked very intrigued by whatever was on your phone there, brother,” Josh says, with a shitty little grin on his face.

“Don’t you have things to be doing other than watching me use my phone?” I ask, not able to stop the slight eye roll that came along with it.

“I’m gonna pretend you didn’t say that,” he says, “ Quinn and I are going to run upstairs to get ready, and then I can take over so you can go put on whatever pirate bullshit you want.” He says, staring at me with a matter-of-fact expression and his arms folded across his chest.

“Sounds good to me, bub.”

⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯

Sam and Willa left shortly after Josh and Quinn, leaving me with the usual regulars to tend to. They weren’t a rowdy bunch, so I got a good amount of cleaning done before the rush of people.

Maybe. The fact she didn’t say ‘no’ was basically haunting me. It’s not a big deal if she does show up because she is just a ‘friend’. That’s even a strong way of wording it.

At this point, the sun has been set for a while, which is attracting costumed customers. Some are more clever than others, but regardless, I’m just glad that people seem to like the idea.

I’m talking to Linda, who’s dressed as an 80s Aerobic Instructor, when I hear the sounds of my dear brother entering the building. He always has a way of making his presence known, whether he means to or not. We both glance over to the door, where he lets Quinn through first, quickly following behind.

Hand in hand, they joined us at the bar. I just looked at the two of them for a minute, my head tilted slightly.

“Peter Pan and Tinkerbell?” I finally manage to ask.

“Yes!” Josh says, fluttering the tiny wings he has on.

I let out a small sigh; I should have known, giggling to myself.

“I think you two look adorable,” Linda compliments them, eliciting a curtsy from Josh while Quinn does a stage bow.

“Alright, Tink, come tend bar so I can go change into something more festive.”

After I finally got upstairs, I started digging through my closet, looking for everything. I know it’s in here. I finally found my cream button-up; it was a bit looser on me than most of my shirts, so when I tucked it in; it definitely fit a pirate theme.

I pull on my black slim-fit jeans, tucking the bottom of my shirt into them. I slide on my brown dress vest over the shirt, leaving it fairly open so that my chest is exposed. I grab the necklaces on my nightstand and walk into the bathroom to make sure they are sitting properly. I don’t need Josh telling me I layered my necklaces wrong again.

I know Josh has some sort of scarf or belt that would make more sense for a pirate outfit, so I decide to bravely go into his room. Good lord, Josh. Walking into his room, I always forget that he likes to have things. I mean that nicely; he just loves art, decor, and tchotchkes, so his bedroom would be overstimulating to most. Considering how long I’ve known him, I’m generally accustomed to his ways, but when he keeps his door shut more often than not, it starts to slip my mind.

Rummaging through his closet, filled with colorful pieces, I find the clothes hanger loaded with scarves. I pulled out an olive green one; earth tones will work, right? I tie it around my waist, moving in front of his full-length mirror; I look much more piratey than before.

I look at the time, not realizing how long it’s taken me, I hustle back into my room. I grab the rings from the drawer in my nightstand, quickly sliding them on and spraying myself with another round of cologne to hopefully hold me over the rest of the night. I pull out a single cigarette from the drawer, shutting it a little harder than I mean to.

Maybe? Her text is still sitting in my mind. What if she does show up? I grab my phone from the counter, slide it back into my pocket, and head out the door.

“Excuse me, sorry,” I mumble as people pass me on the stairs. I’m moving a little quicker than I usually am because I don’t want to leave Josh bartending alone for too long. Maybe Melody is helping him out? I should have pulled everything out earlier, so this didn’t happen.

I pull open the door, letting the couple outside into the stairwell. I pull my lighter out, placing the cigarette between my lips and covering the filter end with my hand to block the wind. I take the long way around the building so I can enjoy this while I have a second. Josh is fine, the bar is fine, if she shows up, that’s also fine. I think to myself as I’m rounding the corner. Taking one final drag before putting it out, I hold in the cloud of smoke for a moment before releasing it. I close my eyes for a second, breathing in the cool fall air. Glancing over to the most delightful sight, I’m unable to come up with words fast enough before I hear–

“Well, hello there, Captain.”

Charlotte POV

You’re allowed to have fun, Charlotte. That’s the mantra I’ve been repeating in my head since Jacob told me about this party, though the alternative is that this is incredibly unprofessional.

I’ve been parked and sitting in my car for 10 minutes, building up the will to get out. You bought a costume, and you got ready, and you smiled at the text for about 15 minutes straight. Just go have fun. My hand finally reached for the handle, opening the door.

My boots make a little click on the pavement as I get out of the car; I smooth out my pants and readjust the little corset so it’s more comfortable. I look at my reflection in my car windows, leaning in to make sure my lipstick is still in place. Okay. Just go.

Rounding the corner, I see the entrance to the bar, making me slow my pace a little until-

Jacob? I watch as he walks towards the bar; he looks .. good– No, Charlotte, cut it out. I slowly walk towards him, still watching him as he lets out a quick stream of smoke; why is that kinda… He sets the rest of the cigarette in the ashtray placed on top of the garbage can. He stops for a second, clearly trying to calm down. Is he okay? His shoulders drop as he lets out a long breath. Suddenly, we’re making eye contact. Shit.

“Well, hello there, Captain,” I say to him. Smooth Charlotte, real smooth.

He giggles at the name, “Well, blow me down. I didn’t know if I would see you tonight, Red.”

“I decided that I deserved a little fun after this past week and all.”

“I think you made a good decision,” he says calmly, “Also, your costume choice is just lovely.” I don’t know if I ate too much or if he is actually giving me butterflies right now.

“Oh, thank you,” I say quietly; I’ve never been good at receiving compliments. We both stand there for a brief second before he grabs the door to the bar, gesturing for me to go through.

“Ladies first.”

“What a gentleman– oh, I mean, gentle-pirate.”

The bar is full of costumed people, Halloween songs playing loud over the speakers that you can barely hear over the chatter from everyone. It’s nice to see how busy the bar is finally. I had only really been here earlier in the day and honestly, it’s refreshing to know that the bar is doing well, considering how many people are here.

I followed Jacob to the bar, sitting down, only to notice that his brother was dressed as Tinkerbell. It seemed like an odd choice until I looked down to the other end of the bar to see Peter Pan sitting there. Oh… OH.

“Charlotte! You came!” Josh says excitedly, “Y’know, I told Ol’ Captain Sparrow that if he just asked you that, you-”

“Oooookay, Tink, that’s enough,” Jacob cuts him off, making me laugh.

He slid a glass over to me on a napkin. I looked down to see that he made me a Boulevardier. He remembered? My heart feels weird.

“Let me know if it’s terrible, I’ll remake it for you,”

I take a small sip; it’s incredible?

“No, it’s perfect, thank you,” I tell him.

He smiles at me, even his eyes light up. I watch him walk down the length of the bar, checking in on other customers and replacing their drinks with fresh ones. He’s so soft-spoken that I’m shocked he feels so comfortable bartending. The way he looks at every single customer, giving them his full attention, even for the twenty seconds it takes for them to place their order. He’s so-

“So Charlotte,” Josh starts, pulling me out of my thoughts, which may be a good thing at this rate.

“How are you doing, dear?” he asks while wiping a wine glass dry.

“I’m okay,” I tell him, “I am sorry about the other day, I hope you weren’t trying to get out of here.”

“I was actually coming back from lunch, and you weren’t a bother at all,” he tells me, relieving me that I didn’t mess up his entire day.

He continues, “Also, never apologize to me for having feelings. I don’t know what happened, but I’m glad that you were able to let them out. Jake is good at handling situations like yours, so you picked the perfect time, honestly.”

“Oh,” I say before taking a bigger sip.

“Are you here alone?” he asks. I nod quickly, “Let me introduce you to someone. Hold on!”

I watch as he waves over the person in the Peter Pan costume. They make their way over to us, and with how Josh’s face looks, I’m assuming this is a special person to him.

“Charlotte, this is Quinn,” Josh said, gesturing between the two of us.

“Hi, nice to meet you, Quinn,” I can’t help how professional it comes out.

“You as well,” they start, “If you haven’t pieced it together, yes, I’m Josh’s partner.” They let out a small laugh, gesturing at the Peter Pan costume. Okay, thank God, I didn’t want to say that I assumed.

Looking at the two of them, they really are precious.

“I love your costumes,” I tell them.

“Oh, thank you!” they both say simultaneously.

“So Charlotte, what exactly is your job?” Quinn asks.

“Well-” I’m cut off by the group of people approaching us loudly.

I watch quietly from my seat while they all greet each other.

“WILLIAM,” Quinn hollers.

“QUILL”

“QUILLIAM,” the two of them yell at the same time, falling into a fit of giggles.

I can’t help but wonder what I’m currently witnessing.

“Oh my god, you look so fucking good.”

“Stop it- no, YOU guys look so good.”

Quinn looks back over to me, grabs the two girls’ hands they have been chatting with, and hustles back to the bar.

“Guys, this is Charlotte!” Quinn starts introducing us. “This is Willa,” they gesture to the petite girl with a cute bob haircut that frames her face so nicely. She’s dressed in light pink. Loofah? Which is quickly clarified when Sam comes into view dressed as a bar of soap, whom I met briefly the first day I came in.

“I still can’t believe I’m soap, Bird.”

“It was this or Twilight, be glad!”

“And this is Melody, obviously. You’ve met already, though?” gesturing to her, who’s also absolutely beautiful. She’s dressed as Arwen, which means that Danny is dressed as the Aragorn man.

“Hi,” I manage to get out, “Yes, we have, and you both look so great,”

“Thank you so much!” Melody quickly responds.

“Oh, thanks!” Willa quips back.

“Drinks for everybody,” Jake’s voice came from behind me as he slid a bunch of glasses towards us. A chorus of ‘thank you’ surrounds me. Before I can turn to acknowledge him, he’s grabbing my glass.

“Another one?” He asks, fairly quietly this time.

“Please,” my nerves are getting the best of me, and the best way to fight them off is not to be sober.

“Oh, sick! We’re all in couples costumes,”

“Sam,” Willa hitting Sam’s arm, “Shut up?”

I could feel the heat rising into my face; I had been ignoring that Jacob and I wore the same kind of costume and wishfully thought that nobody would mention it. I guess that ship has sailed.

“We have Peter Pan and Twinkerbell, Lord of the Rings, and Calico Jack and Anne Bonny at the bar– I thought it was safe to assume!” Sam says, his loud laugh following it.

“Oh guys,” Jake sounds defeated, “Don’t embarrass her. You just met her.”

He looks back at me, handing me a new drink, “I’m sorry about that. I swear sometimes my brother hates me.”

“It’s okay. I was kind of waiting for it to happen,” I laughed, “I mean, we are matching so..”

He laughs at my observation for a moment.

“Between you and me,” he leans a little closer, whispering, “I think we’re the best dressed here,” flashing me a small smile; oh, how I wish he wouldn’t do that.

“Charlotte, come with us!” Quinn says, grabbing my hand and pulling me off the barstool. They pull me over to a table where the other girls are sitting. Oh god.

“Josh told me you were here alone, and well.. that’s not fun,” they tell me.

“I don’t actually live around here, so I don’t really know anybody,” I start, “Well, aside from you guys, now.”

A slew of ‘oooohhhh’s come out from all of them.

“So, I’m under the impression you’re all partners with the boys?” I ask.

“Yes!” “Yep,” “Mhmmm,” quickly followed.

I take another few sips of my drink, feeling the anxiety starting to melt away.

“I’m secretly a sucker for romance, so who wants to let me in on the situations here?” I tell them, rapidly pointing around at all of them and the boys. I’m going to be around for a little bit. I may as well get to know them. Plus.. it probably wouldn’t hurt for me to try and make some friends… right?

“How much time do you have?” Quinn asks bluntly. The other two erupted with laughter.

I look down at my drink, swirling it around, and then drink the last few sips quickly before looking at them and delivering a monotone, “I got time.”

“Well, in that case,” Willa starts, “Let me tell you about my sweet, dumb, but hot boyfriend Samuel.” She says while cracking her knuckles.

“So– I met him at the farmers market, where he proceeded to be an absolute dick to me. And THEN, he was here when I came here on an unsuccessful date, we had to WORK TOGETHER, went on a trip where we got with ONE BED-” Willa pauses for dramatic effect before taking a breath to practically yell, “LIKE THE BOOK TROPE, CHARLOTTE.”

“You sure you wanna hear this?” Quinn interjects.

“Oh, I’m invested now,” I quickly spit out. I catch a small glimpse of Jacob as he’s grabbing some empty bottles from a table across the room. He smiles and nods at whatever they say; oh, there’s that feeling again.

Willa continues her tale, but I barely hear her. My eyes fixated on him, watching how he makes eye contact with anyone who talks to him. Making sure that he hears them, nodding along and giggling often. Every so often, letting someone have a genuine smile–

Willa’s voice hit me again, “–and now I guess I like him back.”

“Oh, my god?” I respond, “That is uh.. A lot?” Oh, I’m the worst person ever.

“It is a lot, but I guess he was worth it or whatever,” Willa rolls her eyes at the statement.

Quinn smacked her arm, “You loved that silly string bean for so long. Don’t even act like you didn’t.”

Everybody was giggling at the call out. I saw Melody look around the table at all the empty glasses before standing up and grabbing them all.

“Let me get us another round, but Quinn, feel free to start whenever,” She grabs their arm, “I obviously know how this goes already.”

We all watch her for a minute as she walks up to the bar, getting the boys’ attention.

“Melody is so pretty?” I say out loud, “Oh god, is that weird?”

“No!”

“Not at all.”

“We all think she’s hot, don’t worry.”

Before I can look back over to them, Jacob is in my line of sight again. This time, he’s behind the bar, talking to one of the older ladies he seems so fond of. The way they make him laugh is sweet. He’s stood there for a second before he leans over the bar to grab something from them, but the way he leans makes his shirt fall open more; I can see his stomach flex for a split second. Holy shit. Where is Melody with those drinks, dear god-

“Alright, Quill, let’s go.”

Melody sat back down at the table, dispersing the drinks to everyone.

“Welllllll,” Quinn says, “I met him at Hobby Lobby- don’t ask me why HE worked THERE.”

I have got to stop getting distracted by this man. He walks past our table, gently squeezing Quinn’s shoulders as he passes them. They just glance over at him as they’re talking. It’s precious how much he seems to like them. Maybe he’s just a loving person? Oh, god I don’t like that.

“But, now we’re just in love, and he’s perfect, so!”

“...in the cooler?” Willa mumbled, covering her mouth, “Please tell me you’re joking.”

What did they do in the cooler? Shit, I need to be paying closer attention.

“Yeah… I probably could have left that part out, huh?” Their eyes widened, looking over at me, with the realization of who they were telling that to. “We cleaned up after! Promise!”

“Wait a second- so, you and Josh.. here?” Willa says, pointing at Quinn, before turning to Melody, “And you and Danny …ALSO here..?”

Never mind, I don’t want to know. Don’t tell me, don’t tell me, don’t tell me.

The two nod in sync, holding back their laughs.

“Well, that’s not fair!”

“This is truly taking years off my life,” I tell them while rubbing my temples, making them all giggle at my pain.

“I’m not about to make it any better,” Melody says with a laugh, followed by the other two losing even more.

I hold up one finger while inhaling the rest of my drink, “Okay, I think I’m ready.”

“So Daniel and I actually started dating in High School,” Melody says, pulling a quiet ‘awww’ from all of us, “We were together for a while before I decided to go to college out of state,” she tells us.

I see him in the background, just scanning the room while Josh is making drinks, well, until he sees me looking back at him. Shit, shit, shit, shifting my eyes back to Melody.

“Anyway– I ran into Josh, who got me the job here, and I’m so thankful for it. The boys are so great, and I’m obviously not going to complain about getting to see Daniel again.”

“I bet you’re not complaining,” Willa says suggestively with an exaggerated wink.

“HE sure complained at first, though,” Quinn pipes up with a laugh.

“Oh hush,” Melody tries to brush it off, “I do love him for more than our sex life.”

Willa is quick to reply, “Whatever you say, girly.”

“So.. what’s the part that will ruin my day?” I nervously ask.

“Conveniently, the day you came in actually, Jake had sort of… walked in on us.”

“Walked in on WHAT?”

“The thing is.. The roads were terrible, so I asked Jake if he minded grabbing Iris-” Quinn quickly cuts off Melody. “YEAH, WE HAD A SLEEPOVER WITH THE CHILD,” Quinn can’t tell us fast enough.

“Hey,” Willa, chuckling, gently grabs Quinn’s arm, “Charlotte was the only one not involved. You don’t need to yell.”

“Sorry, I just love Iris a lot, okay?”

“And she loves you back,” Melody reassures them, “Anyway, yes, so everybody else had a fun sleepover with my daughter, and I closed the bar with Daniel while having a weird argument–”

Jake comes up between Quinn and Melody, placing one hand on Melody’s back, “I’m sorry to interrupt, but I come bearing not watered-down drinks.”

He starts placing the drinks on the table, having to slide mine and Willa’s across the table.

I watch as he makes a little small talk with everyone and how much they all seem to like him. He seems too nice to be real. Everyone laughing with him, I look up at him before he slides my drink over to me. His hands. Oh my. He has rings on… oh my GOD. Trying not to be obvious, I quickly flit my eyes back up to meet his.

“Thank you,” I mouth to him while the other three are talking. He mouths back, ‘Of course’, flashing me a smile. The boy is beautiful when he smiles.

He turns to go back to the bar, and I just focus on him walking there; unknowingly, I am being watched.

“Charlotte!”

“Yes?” I quip back; I can feel the heat in my face, but is it embarrassment or the alcohol? The world will never know.

“Are you… into Jake..?” Willa asks quietly.

The other two leaned in on our little secret session, which I was not prepared for.

“Nooo, no, no, no,” I can’t spit it out quickly enough.

Quinn lets out a laugh before choking out, “You were practically drooling over him,”

“Ha ha.. Nooo.. I wasn’t,” I try to defend myself, scratching the back of my head, “Was it really that obvious?”

A chorus of yelps elicited when I loosely admit to thinking he’s attractive.

“Oh stoooop,” I cover my face.

“Don’t be embarrassed– those Kiszka boys are incredibly charming,” Quinn states, “It’s hard not to fall for it.”

“Yeah, I don’t know about ‘charming’ per se, but they do have some good genes in that family.” Willa taking a light jab at Sam.

“Really though,” Melody chimes in, “Jake is honestly very charming,”

“Oh, he is absolutely,”

“He’s too nice,”

Quinn and Willa tend to talk at the same time, and being a few drinks in does not help my deciphering of who said what, but at least when they’re on the same page, it helps.

“He has been very easy to work with, so I would believe that,” I try to regain my composure, even though the fact everybody thinks he’s sweet is not helpful to where my brain has been going all night.

“I’m sure his brain just shuts down when you’re around,” Willa says into her glass before taking a sip.

“What do you mean?”

“Have you seen yourself?” Quinn questions, “You’re so hot?��

‘Mhm’

‘Yeah, you are.’

I know that my face is absolutely pink at this rate; I just shake my head ‘no.’

“I’m sure he sees plenty of pretty girls being a bartender,” I roll my eyes at the idea that he wouldn’t hit on other girls while he’s working.

“Pretty sure the only one he entertains is Eleanor,” Melody giggles.

“I’m almost positive he told Josh that he’d just marry her if he stayed single for too much longer,” Quinn says, looking over at Josh, who just blows a kiss to them. Wow, they’re so cute together.

I watch as Melody taps on her phone, seeing the time, “Well, guys, I need to go relieve Josh for a bit.”

Quinn quickly stood up with their drink and nodded to the bar. Willa and I followed suit, migrating up to the bar. Claiming a bar stool and watching as Josh comes to find Quinn, quickly kissing their nose and then their forehead before Quinn snuggles themself into him for a brief moment.

“Pretty cute, aren’t they?” Jacob whispers, scaring the living daylights out of me.

“They really are,” I say, “And you need a bell or something because Jesus Christ.”

“Oh, I’m sorry,” he laughs, placing his hand on my back for a second, “I just need to get out of there for a minute,” he tells me.

“So I’m going to run around to clean and just saw you fixated on them.”

“Well, since you’re here, Jake,” Willa says loudly, leaning over to me and whispering, “Wanna see the boys squirm?” I simply nod with a grin plastered across my face.

“Don’t you guys think Melody is insanely hot?” She questions everybody.

Daniel violently shakes his head, ‘Yes,’ while Melody laughs behind the bar.

“I.. uhh,” Jake mumbles, holding the back of his neck, “I have tables to clean,” and quickly walks off to grab glasses.

Sam’s eyes are wide, and his face is filled with panic. “Birdie, I can’t answer,” he begins to say before his brother abruptly cuts him off.

“SMASH FOR SURE,” Josh confidently shouts, being met with a high five from Quinn.

“You’re right, that was worth it,” I whisper, leaning into Willa.

⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯

I sat with everybody while they talked, well, yelled. This is a much louder group of friends than I’m used to. Granted, I have like..no group of friends. I listen to a lot of very odd conversations filled with Sam instigating Willa so that she would get a little pissed at him. There are plenty of lengthy stories from Josh, which probably wouldn’t take as long if he didn’t tell us every side story that goes along with it, but he’s so animated I guess I can’t really complain.

“Here, Charlotte,” Melody says, “Jake told me how to make your drink, so .. I hope it tastes right,”

I take a sip, oh lord, that is STRONG, “It’s great!”

Why did I do that? She needs to learn… Not that I could even correct her right now.

I sip on my drink for a while, feeling it hitting harder than I’m used to. Every so often, Jake comes out from behind the bar to make small talk with some of the customers or come bug his brothers for a few minutes. I always hope it’s the latter.

“How are we doin’, Red?”

I blink rather slowly, “I’m thriving,” slowly cracking a smile, knowing it sounded terrible coming out of my mouth.

“Well, I’m so glad,” he tells me. The way he makes eye contact but also watches my mouth when I talk makes me want to scream.

“You know,” I tell him, what are you doing? , “I dare ye to resist me booty,” the alcohol starts speaking.

“Are…are you trying to flirt with me?” He laughs out.

“Maybe, is it working?” I ask, biting the inside of my lip. WHAT ARE YOU DOING?

“Oh– well,” he giggles quietly; leaning in, he rests one hand on the back of my barstool to support himself, but his face creeps in closer to my ear before he whispers, “You don’t even have to try with me, honey.” Fuck me.

⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯

I spend the rest of the night chatting with Quinn and Willa about the most random things. But I think that is what friends are supposed to do?

Slowly, people start trickling out as it nears 1 a.m. I say my goodbyes to Sam and Willa, which is shortly followed by Josh and Quinn. Jake was nice enough to let Josh go to bed since he was here decorating so early.

“Ready to go, ducky?” Daniel asks Melody; party of one officially.

“Oh, I am beyond ready,” she stretches her arms out before turning to me, “I’ll see you tomorrow, right?”

Shit. I already forgot that I told her about the training earlier today.

“Yes, you will! Can’t wait,” I do my best not to show that I definitely forgot and that I’m definitely NOT going to feel like shit in the morning now.

“I’ll see you then,” she says with a little wink.

I turn to the bar, leaning into my hand with a very minuscule smile painted on my face as I watch him. Just waiting for him to look over at me, I can’t help but stare.

“I can feel you watching me,” he grins from the other end of the bar.

“I’m debating on how I’m going to get home, is all,” I say with a sigh.

“Did you drive here?” He asks.

“Yep,”

“Okay, so, first of all, you’re not going to do that,” he tells me.

“And why not?” I protest. He sauntered over to me, leaning against the bar.

“You’re so pretty,” he says to me, glancing down at my lips until I finally pull the bottom one in with my teeth, “Yeah- you’re not driving.”

My jaw drops; he really got me there.

“I can just call an Uber,” I tell him.

“Charlotte, I don’t love that idea. It’s almost 2 am, and I literally live just upstairs,” Jake continues to tell me I need to stay here, and I don’t know why I’m fighting it so hard.

“I don’t want to impose,”

“I’m offering?”

“Touche Captain,” I giggle a bit at the nickname. I bet he likes it.

“Just hang out for a couple minutes so I can close the bar down,” he tells me.

⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯

“Don’t you want to clean?”

“It’s so late. Josh can help me in the morning,” Jake speaks low as we walk into the stairwell.

“Oh no,” slips out, “oh, I didn’t mean to actually say that,”

Jake lets out a quiet laugh, “I got you, don’t worry,”

Before I can react, he has his arm underneath mine, gesturing for my hand. I lace my fingers into his; the butterflies are back. How fun. He holds my hand tightly, letting me put a lot of my weight into him as we carefully go up the first flight of stairs.

“I think I can do it,” I tell him; I absolutely cannot?

“You sure about that, sport?”

I squint at him and immediately stumble up the first couple of stairs of the second flight, letting out a small ‘oop.’

“Yeah, that’s what I figured,” He makes fun of me gently while supporting me again.

This may be the longest stair climb of my life.

We finally make it to his apartment.

Jake whispers, “You can take my bed, and I’ll just sleep on the couch.” He’s so cute when he’s concerned.

“Noooo, I can sleep on the couch. I’ve already inconvenienced you.”

He blinks at me slowly, unamused.

I can’t stop myself from walking towards his couch, and it’s a humbling moment for me as my legs wobble in the process.

“No, you don’t,” Jake says from behind me.

“Jake, really, I don’t mind,” I look back at him, disorienting myself from turning too quickly.

“Jesus Christ,” he mutters as he grabs my arms to stop me from falling over. I just stare at him like a deer in headlights.

“Yeah, I didn’t want it to come to this, but,” he says before he wraps his arms around my thighs, lifting me over his shoulder.

Childlike laughter erupts from me as he carries me through his apartment into his bedroom. I can feel his chest vibrating subtly from giggling with me.

“Here ya go,” he says, moving one hand to my back so he can set me down. So carefully, making sure not to drop me, he leans down slowly. The feeling of falling became so real suddenly, that I instinctively held onto his shoulder, which pulled him back with me. He stumbles forward a bit, catching himself before landing on top of me.

I prop myself up on my elbows as I laugh. He’s hovered over me, with a hand on either side; our faces are so close.

We both freeze as we realize how close we are. I wonder how soft his lips really are… My eyes defy me, shifting down to look at his mouth, just for a second, as he watches me.

Clearing his throat as he stands up.

“Uh- here, let me get you a sweatshirt or something,” he sounds timid. Quickly shuffling through his closet, he pulled out a navy sweatshirt and handed it to me.

“It’ll probably be a little bit loose on you, but better than sleeping like a pirate?”

I chuckle, smiling up at him. Simply grateful for something comfortable to wear.

“I’ll go so you can do that,” still clearly very nervous.

Pulling my shirt over my head, I quickly pull the sweatshirt over me. I lock the bottom of it under my chin so I can see what I'm doing. Oh no. No, no, no, no. My zipper is stuck, and staring at it makes me cross-eyed. I drop my head back, letting out an angry sigh. Please just unzip. My hands get increasingly sweaty, making the stupid plastic zipper hard to grip.

I hear a few soft knocks on the door before it cracks open.

“Can I come in?” He asks.

“Actually… I um… I need help.”

Coming in quickly and shutting the door behind him, I just stare at him pathetically.

“My zipper is stuck,” I tell him, embarrassed.

He chokes back a laugh, setting a glass of water on the nightstand next to his bed.

He kneels in front of me; oh, this is terrible. I lift the sweatshirt, revealing the catastrophic mess from me, yanking the zipper every which way.

“Where the hell did you even get these, Red?” He asks, looking up at me with a soft giggle.

I wish he would just focus. I don't need to look at him like this. Making eye contact causes my brain to short-circuit, and I stare back at him silently. Watching him try to figure out how the zipper got caught, he’s so carefully moving the fabric around.

“How much do you care about these?” He asks, gently tapping my hip.

“At this point,” I raise my eyebrows in defeat.

“Are you sure?”

I just nod ‘yes’ in response.

He grabs either side of the zipper and tears it apart quickly. The sound of the fabric ripping was relieving, well, for a second. Both of us smile at the fact that I’m free until he looks back down to see the lace of my thong peeking out.

I see his eyes go wide, and the pink creep into his cheeks as he pinches the fabric together.

“Oh,” slips out of me. I let the sweatshirt drop, falling to the tops of my thighs as the now ripped pirate pants hit the floor.

“So, uh, well,” Jake says, holding the back of his neck while avoiding eye contact, “I will let you get some sleep.”

I don’t know what possesses me to say, “Wait-“

Closing the gap between us, I lean up onto my toes slightly, placing a small kiss on his cheek.

“Thank you,” I tell him before crawling into his bed.￹

“Of course, m’lady,” he says with a bow. His little English accent laces the words, which makes me laugh.

“Sleep well,” he whispers, shutting off the light as he leaves.

I fall back into his bed, wrapping myself up in the blankets. They smell like him, comforting, warm.

⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯

Chapter Seven

Chapter Nine

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himbo-in-limbo · 1 year

Text

“At Your Service”…

Tw Kidnapping, gore,violence,intimidation,blood!

Yautja!Raian x Y/N the servant (gender neutral reader) //Chapter 2//

Limbo rant's: I often look at this AU and think of how silly it is, would badbloods even waste their time with ooman servants I wonder 💀...

The room became eeriely silent all of a sudden...

First of all you just heard that your going to be someone's butler for the rest of your life

And secondly apparently this new "Master" of yours is like the "devil incarnate" if he's scaring the other humans this much!!...

Naturally you begin to ask what was the problem with this "new master of yours" but before you knew it, everyone's collars had begun to glow

*gasp* "SHIT, EVERYONE LOOK BUSY"

All of the other humans quickly begun to scramble like headless chickens and proceeded to clean something or look preoccupied in some manner..

You looked like a lost kid trying to think of what to do since you also didn't want to get in trouble...

So you grabbed a random rag and proceeded to clean.....the floor??? You were panicking no one could blame you...

Being on the floor however you were able to feel footsteps approaching...very HEAVY footsteps...

The closer they got the more the room started to shake just a bit...

Suddenly a door opened.

Two of the creatures you saw before appeared in front of you!

Though they weren't the same ones as before...they weren't nearly as big as that pale one...nor as bloody...

But still big enough to crumple you like a piece of paper so you instinctively backed up a bit and lowered your head...

You did something right with that because the aliens just continued to walk past you and proceeded to intimidate the other humans...

They began ordering the others and telling them which areas they would be tending to today and one by one they started leaving the room

Eventually you were the last one left...

The tension in the air was so thick, you felt like you could choke on it...

"Now all's that's left is the unlucky one....*hr hr hr*"

Huh? Did they just speak?! And what sounded like a laugh too...

"What happened to the last one he had?"

They did!! And you were able to understand them?!? *You touched your new earrings* these things must have a translator imbedded into them!!

*makes the motion of something breaking* "the ooman broke one of his trophies so he did the same to them"...*the other alien shook their head* "That black sheep of our clan is a real handful"

At this point you were sweating bullets...you know you heard them right....your new "master" killed his last servant....

You were so lost in thought you didn't hear that they were talking directly to you now...

"Are you listening ooman?." "You better learn his habits quickly if you want to survive longer than the last one did"....*they shoved you out the room*

"first you'll be making an offering to him to introduce yourself..." *One of the aliens walked ahead of you*

They lead you to another room that resemble a sort of...kitchen? It had to have been

The whole place reeked of meat of some kind...

There were things hanging about that resembled vegetables? You weren't quite sure...but you saw a few other humans preparing something! It looks like a soup?....

"The other oomans will teach you how to make this drink. But for now grab a container." *They slapped your back to move you forward*

You shakingly grabbed a pot-like container

*snaps fingers* "DON'T JUST STAND THEIR OOMAN HELP THEM FILL IT UP"

The alien ordered the other human to assist you and they yelped a bit in fear..

The two of you proceeded to fill up the pot with the strange broth.

"This delicious drink is C'ntlip" you best memorize how to make it ooman."

"Now carry it and follow."

This pot was pretty heavy to begin with but now filled to the brim with this "C'ntlip" you worry your arms will give out soon...

Ough...the smell in the air changed drastically…

The hallway was flooded with the sent of bitter oil combined with a men's gym locker...

*distant roaring could be heard* …..”damn brat is at it again”….

It sounded like people were fighting…and soon enough

That seemed to be the case…

You must have seen 3 other aliens get thrown like rag dolls in a matter of seconds…

“He always takes it too far that idiot.”….*the last alien that was thrown landed near your feet*

You were shaking so much the pot could be heard rattling a bit…

It wasn’t necessarily the brutal fighting that was making you nervous…it was because you recognized HIM.

The alien you saw before you were kidnapped…the thing who killed every crew member on your old ship…

He was brutally sparring against his kin to assert dominance…

And just like how you saw him before….he was covered in blood…this time of his own kind.

“YAUTJA!RAIAN THAT’S ENOUGH FOOLING AROUND ”…one of the aliens spoke

“Hah?. And why should I listen to you weaklings?” He said in a dark growl.

*one of the aliens started growling but was stopped by the other* “the Patriarch will not be pleased in hearing of you going on another rampage again.”

“If you wish to participate in the next battle I suggest you save your blood lust for another day”…yautja!Raian appeared to roll his eyes like some delinquent and let out an annoyed huff…

“Feh, no one was giving me a challenge here anyways…” and with that he started to stomp away

But before that happened the other alien spoke, “You were assigned a new servant brat..” *you felt a hand shove you forward*

“The patriarch ALSO demanded that you keep this one alive for AT LEAST A CYCLE..”

“These oomans are hard to come by you know!”…if the pot shaking wasn’t heard before it was now…

The amount of pressure this thing was emitting was just…..terrifying..

*he started inspecting you while clicking his mandibles* “you look….”

Oh god he might remember you

“You look weak.” “Why do I always get the meek looking ones?!”…..

……….lord knows what possessed you to say this..

let alone even speak up but…this asshole…

You shouted

“IM NOT WEAK!” And everyone was so taken aback…

You immediately felt all the color leave your body as you quickly realized how stupid that was…

The aliens were in so much shock that you talked back that they didn’t even know how to respond…”their dead”…is probably what they thought…

“Hr hr hr…HR HR HAHAHAHAHAHAH!!!”

He was laughing…

“Not weak huh?! I don’t believe that but I’ll tell you what! Your the bravest ooman I’ve ever met so far!! I like you!

You have no idea how that turned in your favor but….you sure as hell weren’t gonna test that twice…

“Is that C’ntlp? Perfect timing..bring that and yourself to my room ooman!” And with that he turned around and started walking away

To which you realized you needed to be following him and quickly scurried along…

“……how long do you think they’ll last?….”

“…*clicks*….I’d give it a week?”…”wanna make a bet?”…the two aliens chuckled and soon left.

Oh what horrors will this new ship life bring….

The image of him in a blood bath will forever be ingrained in your mind…

#my art #digital art #digital illustration #original design #my oc #yautja #oc lore #yautja!raian #limbo writes #tw blood #tw gore #long post #tw violence #Tw death #yautja fic #yautja x reader

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sailoryooons · 2 years

Text

Suga's How-To Guide | Interlude One | myg (m)

☾ Pairing: Camboy!Yoongi x f. reader

☾ Summary: Min Yoongi has been a cam boy for a few years now. The work is easy, the money is good, and he has loyal viewers. When he approaches you and asks if you want to be his muse for a ‘how-to’ series, your view on the infamous Yoongi changes.

☾ Word Count: 9,165

☾ Genre: Friends to lovers, pwp

☾ Rating: 18+ Minors are strictly prohibited from engaging and reading this content. It contains explicit content and any minors discovered reading or engaging with this work will be blocked immediately.

☾ Warnings: Explicit language, light mentions of insecurity from reader, explicit sexual content including unprotected sex, multiple orgasms, oral (m. and f. receiving), ass play (small disclaimer: there's no verbal convo / visible discussion about practicing safe rimming - as with any sexual act there's a risk factor so pls don't take this as end all be all), fingering (asssss), nipple play, a lot of spit and cum and bodily fluids idk fam they fucking, recreational drinking (neither party drunk before sex), use of a color system, slut / sex worker shaming (lightly / implied)

☾ Published: October 7, 2022

☾ A/N: This was supposed to be a drabble series but it has turned into a little more. Like I have said - this does not specifically have a plot but there will be a pinch of problem solving etc in the next chapter. Reminder: this series doesn't have a goal and I'm updating it whenever I feel like it. There aren't scheduled updates for it, they just sort of happen when I'm vibing with it. Anyway, this feels like it took me 500 years to write but my god I haven't really written a chapter of something in almost a month, though I've done some oneshots. It feels really good to finally have a finished product of something, so thank you for being patient with me. Also I actually edited a chapter LOOK AT ME GO. But if you see errors well I'm not perfect lmao

☾ Disclaimer: All members of BTS are faces and name claims for this story. This is entirely a work of fiction and by no means is meant to be a projection, judgment or representation of real-life people. Any scenarios or representations of the people and places mentioned in works are not representative of real-life scenarios.

The door to Seokjin’s apartment opens as you lean on the counter of the kitchen, drinking wine as a group of your friends pick at an exquisite charcuterie board. Taehyung swings his legs back and forth where he sits on the counter in a heated debate with Namjoon over books while Hoseok and Seokjin both move around one another in the kitchen, preparing dinner.

“Will you go see if that’s Yoongi?” Seokjin asks you over his shoulder. “He’s supposed to be bringing a bunch of wine, he might need help carrying it.”

Pushing yourself off the counter, you nod. “I didn’t know Yoongi was coming.”

“Yoongi always comes,” is Seokjin’s answer, though you’re pretty sure that your best friend didn’t explicitly name Yoongi in the list of people he invited over for dinner.

Monthly dinner at Seokjin’s two-story home has always been a thing. As you wander through the door toward the entryway near the living room, you try to think if Yoongi has ever missed one of the monthly dinner parties.

You’ve never noticed before.

Of course, before there wasn’t a reason for you to notice. Before, you weren’t secretly hooking up with a long-time friend on camera for his viewers. Before, you were confident where you stood with Yoongi: a good, albeit a little distant friend that you’d never really consider doing much one-on-one with, but comfortable enough to pair up in crowds.

Now as you see him hanging a rain-slicked jacket, shaking droplets of water out of his damp, ink-black hair, you have no idea what to do. Before was easy. Now is a little bit confusing, especially because you haven’t really spoken much from his little how to give a blowjob segment.

Yoongi looks the same as he always does: t-shirt stretching across a broad slope of shoulders, dark hair curling beneath his ears and resting against milky skin, his onyx eyes fixated on you where you stare at him. All forms of greeting vanish from your brain in a snap.

“Hi,” he offers, eyes dragging up and down your frame. That one look makes your fingers tighten on your wine glass with almost enough pressure to crack it. “Can I bother you for some assistance?”

Yoongi nudges two cardboard box crates full of wine with the toe of his boot. “That’s what Jin sent me for. Holy shit, where do you get all the wine?”

“Friend of a friend owns a winery and they let me pick out two bottles every month. I’m not much of a wine person but they’re great gifts and even better for dinner parties.”

Walking to where he stands in the doorway, you bend at the knee to grab one of the crates by the handle. It’s a hefty weight as you lift it, grunting slightly. “I don’t think we needed a dozen bottles of wine tonight.”

“They’re not just for Jin.” Yoongi smirks as you turn away, stomach flipping. “I brought some for you.”

“Me?” He hums in agreement as you both head toward the kitchen. “For what?”

“Helping me, obviously.”

“Oh. I see.”

“And you said you liked red sparkling wine. I happen to have a few.”

Noise from the kitchen drowns out any response you can think of. With your bottom lip tucked between your teeth, you haul the crate up onto the counter, careful not to knock over the glass of wine next to Chaeyoung’s hand. Yoongi sets his next to you and surprises you by not moving away.

Yoongi starts pulling bottles out and assigning them to friends around the room. Taehyung takes his with greedy hands, eyes flashing as he reads the label and settles back against the counter.

When Yoongi doesn’t touch the second crate, Taehyung notices, pouting. “What about those?”

“Not for you,” Yoongi grunts, focused on pulling the cork from one of the red bottles he’s selected. Hair presses against his neck and temples where it’s still damp. Suddenly, you have the urge to reach out and brush the strands from his skin, but you don’t. “I’m sorry, was a vintage French wine not enough for you?”

Taehyung cradles the bottle to his chest and you have the answer.

Conversation settles around you. Yoongi takes your now-empty glass of wine as he asks Seokjin questions about work, filling the glass with a fizzy red. You watch him curiously. He doesn’t look at you as sets your glass down, corking the bottle.

The wine is sweet and bubbly against your tongue, with a hint of depth and a little bit of cherry. You immediately like it, wrapping both hands around the glass and nursing it like a cup of tea as you exist between the multiple conversations in the room.

In all, your group dinners usually waver between ten and eleven people. Currently, you’re eight strong with conversations ping-ponging across the room and glasses being slid across the countertop in a fashion that would rival Manhattan’s subway systems.

When you had arrived earlier to help Seokjin set up for the gathering, you’d come with shaky hands, breath held, and winced every time he began to ask you something. But Seokjin never asked you the question, which led you to believe your best friend doesn’t know you’ve been hooking up with Yoongi for his cams.

Taehyung’s arrival had been another test. The younger had been your close friend for about as long as Seokjin, and is the only member of your group who has hooked up with Yoongi both on and off camera. There’s no love lost there – they were friends during and remained friends after, completely uninterested in the other romantically.

Thankfully, Taehyung never asked you about Yoongi. He was all smiles with an already-opened wine bottle, purple-stained teeth, and a little smudge of wine on the corner of his mouth.

It is a well-known fact that if anyone is going to be a walking callout and accountability police for your group of friends, it’s Taehyung. And yet he doesn’t even look suspicious when Yoongi leans over the counter to reach for a folded piece of prosciutto, placing his hand delicately on the back of your shoulder for balance.

Yoongi’s touch is only there for a moment and yet you come alive underneath your shirt. Your heart races as you take a few gulps of wine in an attempt to steady your nerves. The room feels hotter and you shift back and forth on your feet, heat creeping into every part of you.

If he notices, Yoongi says nothing. He pops the piece of meat between rose-red lips and frowns at something Namjoon is saying.

Studying his side profile is devastating. Even from a side view, he is exquisite, the soft slope of his nose the perfect compliment to round cheeks, a plush mouth and cat eyes.

Yoongi catches you staring. You clear your throat and look upward at the light fixtures, sipping your glass of sparkling wine to look busy. He leans his elbow on the counter, facing you completely and you know you’ve caught his attention.

Shit.

A direct conversation outside of whatever you’ve been doing with Yoongi on your weekends is exactly what you want to avoid. You’re unsure how to talk to him, unsure if you’re friends or if he’s doing what you guys are doing with other people – he is well within his right to do so and you know that.

But lately, thoughts of Yoongi have been haunting your every waking thought. The way his rough hands brushed over your supple thighs and gripped them tight when he went down on you, or the greedy way he liked to suck your tongue into his mouth just after you’ve come on his tongue or the way he gets breathy just from kissing the expanse of your neck.

The list of things you think about with Min Yoongi is never-ending and they don’t go away. On more than one occasion when your phone has gone off, your heart leaped at the thought that maybe it was him wanting to do another feature. But since the blowjob, you hadn’t really heard from him.

That’s okay. You’re friends, but you aren’t the chatty kind of friends. At least, you weren’t before. Now you have no idea what you are, and the thought of having to navigate it right there in the kitchen, surrounded by other friends makes you put your glass of wine down and excuse yourself to the bathroom.

Heart hammering, you follow the steps to Seokjin’s guest bathroom blindly. The way isn’t hard to find – you’ve walked this place a million times.

With the door shut behind you, your nerves unwind a fraction. Turning a faucet, you splash some cool water on your neck. It smells like eucalyptus and mint thanks to the plugged-in scent that doubles as a nightlight. You’ve never been happier to have helped Seokjin pick them out, closing your eyes and letting the smell help you relax.

Getting so worked up over Yoongi feels ridiculous. The rush of the water past your shaking fingers relaxes you and the nervousness you felt at Yoongi’s easy touch peters out.

Being around Yoongi and doubting yourself is hard. You don’t know how to stop thinking about the one thing that has been haunting you more and more, especially when he’s in the same room as you.

You want more.

It feels like a poison, increasing in severity as you acknowledge that your interest in Yoongi has shifted from sexual curiosity to… something else. Something that makes your breath catch when he murmurs baby against sweaty, sticky skin. Something that makes you shake when he puts the weight of his hips on yours as he swallows you whole, consuming you until there’s nothing left but want.

Want want want want.

You always want him and you have no idea what to do with it.

A knock on the door startles you. You stare at the door, hands dripping over the sink filling and draining with water.

“You okay?” your stomach flips when the voice you suspected comes through the door, low and soft.

“Yeah.”

“You sick?”

“No.”

Too shaken to lie, you turn off the faucet and wipe your hands on a towel before opening the door. Yoongi is standing in the dim hallway, eyes shadowed by the lack of light. He smells like his cologne and a hint of mint.

“What’s wrong?”

“Nothing,” you offer quickly. His brows pull together and you flick the light off in the bathroom to signal you’re done. “Strong wine.”

“You’ve been weird since I got here. Do you want me to leave?” Yoongi doesn’t move. Surprise fills you as you look up at him. “I apologize if I made you uncomfortable or if friendship isn’t something you’re interested in anymore.”

“No!” You wince at how loud your voice is.

Thinking better of it, you flick the light of the bathroom back on and pull him inside. His hand is warm and rough in yours and you immediately don’t want to let go after he closes the door with his other hand, but you do.

“No,” you murmur and pause. Yoongi is close, the shared space is smaller now that he’s filling it with you. He leans against the tiled wall, crossing his arms over his chest. His biceps strain against his shirt sleeves and you fight off a shudder. “I just… I’m sorry, you make me a little nervous.”

He hums. “You’ve been in a relationship for a while, is it safe to assume you haven’t really hooked up with a friend casually?” You nod. He offers a soft smile. It’s not as cocky and self-assured as his smirks are. “You can just be yourself. I really like you that way.”

Your eyes flit up to him. “It’s hard.”

“Why? Am I making you uncomfortable?”

“No! No. It’s…” You blow out air, looking up at the ceiling to take the pressure off of you. His gaze is intense. Yoongi still looks unperturbed. It feels like everything comes easily to him. “I just like spending time with you and it’s a little confusing where we stand.”

Realization settles on Yoongi’s features when you peak at him. He takes a moment, sucking his bottom lip into his mouth to contemplate your words. Fidgeting with the hem of your shirt, you decide you’ve said the wrong thing and you’re about to leave when Yoongi says, “Come home with me after dinner.”

“What?”

He smiles. “Come home with me after dinner.”

“I…”

“You don’t have to. But I’d like you to. Off camera.”

Your heart flutters and you stare at him, mouth open slightly. “Off?” You clarify. “Off camera?”

“Just us.”

“Really?”

His laugh is deep, brushing against parts of you that make your toes curl. He reaches for you, fingers gripping the bottom of your shirt and giving you a sharp yank. A gasp escapes you as you crash into his chest, hands pressed against the firmness of him as he looks down the slope of his nose at you, lips twitching.

Yoongi is beautiful, but up close you can’t focus on anything else but the way his eyes glitter, or the way the wine stains his lips the perfect shade of red or the way he has the barest hint of freckles across his cheekbones.

The way he looks at you says thousands of things and you don’t know what any of them are, but you want to. You want again.

“Yeah.” His words are barely audible. “Really.”

Without warning, Yoongi closes the space between you, pressing your lips together in a soft kiss. Before you can enjoy the sweet taste of wine and the warmth of him against you, his mouth is gone, leaving you flustered and hungry for more.

Yoongi laughs. “Don’t pout. Later. Come on, I was supposed to see if you’re sick. Dinner is ready.”

Dinner is easier after your conversation with Yoongi. Between Seokjin and Yoongi, you’re more involved in the conversation than you were earlier. As the chatter dies down after dinner and everyone enjoys their wine, you feel Yoongi’s arm press against your back as he rests it against the back of your chair.

The room is warm as you lean back, sliding your eyes to look at Yoongi. He’s not looking at you, completely wrapped up in a conversation with Chaeyoung. His arm is looped casually, skin against the back of your shirt warm through the fabric. Heat creeps up your neck into your face and you bite down a smile as you turn back to Seokjin.

If Seokjin notices anything, he doesn’t say it. Taehyung, however, definitely notices.

Taehyung’s sharp gaze is laser-focused on you, capturing your attention beyond Seokjin. His eyes meet yours and flicker to Yoongi’s hand where it rests against you before coming back up to meet your eyes. Your mouth feels dry for a split second before Taehyung grins and wags his eyebrows at you. He throws a wink your way before turning away.

A quiet, slow breath of relief escapes you. Taehyung knows something is different but doesn’t care. That is at least one less hurdle to overcome, though you know he’ll needle you about it later.

That is if he doesn’t do any digging around on Yoongi’s cam profile.

When dinner is over and there are buzzed, soft goodbyes happening at the door, you find yourself next to Yoongi who claps Seokjin on the shoulder, informing him that Yoongi will drive you home. You’re not drunk, but you hold the giant carton of wine Yoongi has dedicated to you while you kiss Seokjin on the cheek and say your goodbyes.

Taehyung presses a kiss to your cheek, slips toward your ear, and murmurs, “You’ll have to fill me in.”

You bite your lip but nod, feeling nervous as you shuffle out of the apartment with Yoongi at your back.

It’s cooler outside, the air a relief against too-warm skin. Yoongi takes the carton from you, heaving it far easier than you were as he walks down the stairs easily. Rain-scented air greets you in the parking lot, the pavement still damp. You jump around puddles, navigating to his nondescript, black car.

Yoongi opens the door with a cheeky grin. “For you.”

“Thanks,” you answer, rolling your eyes. His grin spreads when he shuts the door and rounds the vehicle to place your wine in the back and slip into the front seat.

Inside the car is meticulously clean and smells faintly of cologne and leather. Music plays softly in the background, almost imperceptible over the hum of the engine and the buzz of the tires on the highway as he drives toward his apartment.

The city is made up of stars spilled on a black canvas, winking in the night as he drives with one hand firmly on the wheel. The other slips to your thigh, giving you a squeeze. The gesture tugs at your heart and your fingers shake with a touch of excitement as you look over at him.

“How was your week?” he asks, slipping into a simple conversation.

This feels easy. You tentatively let your hand rest on top of his against your thigh. When his thumb brushes over your jeans you feel hot. You know there are goosebumps under the material, popping up every time his thumb strokes back and forth.

Though it feels wrong to compare Yoongi to your ex-boyfriend, you can’t help it. You don’t remember the last time you felt an intimate hold on your thigh or hand while driving. You don’t remember fielding questions about your favorite movie – Spirited Away – and why.

Yoongi and your ex are very different. Maybe he was different at the beginning – it was college and it’s hard to remember. Yoongi was always different though, a comforting and quiet presence in plenty of your memories.

Now Yoongi presses against your mind like glass, leaving fingerprints everywhere he touches. You don’t mind, especially when he grips your hand tight after helping you out of the car, leading you up to his apartment.

Linked hands swinging in the cool night, bottles of wine clinking softly and the squeeze of Yoongi’s fingers around yours before he lets your hand go to open his door is something you could get used to.

The thought is terrifying. There is no routine here. Nothing familiar except the smell of his candles long put out, and the dark softness of a familiar apartment. But you’ve never been here when there is no camera set up in his room. You’ve never been here without the bright halo of a ring light.

Yoongi turns on a lamp, leaving most of his home in mood lighting. He gestures to a bottle of wine and you nod, sliding onto a stool at his island countertop. He moves around his apartment silently, feet scuffing on the title as he slides a bottle out from your gifted crate to pop the cork. You grin as he pours you a modest glass.

It’s different from the wine you tried before – it’s on the drier side, but there are still notes of chocolate and heady fruit. The bubbles tickle your tongue as Yoongi pours himself a glass, coming around the counter toward you.

Genuine surprise sparks through you when Yoongi doesn’t take the seat next to you. Rather, he walks behind you wrapping an arm around your waist as he hugs you to his chest, slotting his chin against your shoulder while he sets his hand and wineglass on the counter next to yours.

Heart hammering, you turn your head to the side slightly to look at him. You can only see an up-close visual of the side of his face, but he’s stunning nonetheless. He has to be able to feel the way your heart slams against your ribcage as he squeezes you slightly, lips turned upward. His heartbeat is a steady rhythm against you, his breathing deep and soothing.

“Hi,” he says softly.

“Hi.”

“Missed having you around.”

“You could have called.”

He shrugs a bit and lifts his wine. You watch as he struggles to sip correctly with his chin on your shoulder, making you giggle a bit. He places the wine back on the counter. “I wasn’t sure if you would want me to without the invitation of helping me out.”

“Really?”

“I mean – we’re friends but we’ve never hung out one-on-one until you started helping me. I didn’t want to push a limit by asking you to come over if that wasn’t what you wanted.”

It’s true – it was the exact same fear you’ve harbored all week. Hearing Yoongi repeat back your own anxiety melts you, the remaining stress leaving as you press your weight back into him, pivoting slightly in your seat so that you’re angled a bit better.

Long lashes blink above starry eyes. His cheeks are a touch pink – cotton candy against tan skin. Berry lips smirk at you, so close you can smell the sweet wine on his breath. You imagine his mouth tastes like dark cherries and a hint of chocolate.

“What do you want?” Yoongi’s words are breathy against your warmed skin. “Just curious. You don’t have to answer. You don’t even have to know. But I get the sense that you want something.”

“I don’t know,” you admit, eyes zeroing in on his. You could fall into those depths and keep falling forever. “I just- I just know that I want. It’s a feeling I can’t get rid of. I don’t know what to do with all of this want.”

“Give it to me,” Yoongi answers. “Give all of it to me.”

Before you can formulate a response, his lips are on yours. He turns you to face him fully, slotting himself between your thighs as his hands grip the sides of your neck. He pulls you in and you feel that want bloom again. He tastes just as you expected, sweet like wine. His kiss is hungry, matching the desire that has been gnawing at you for weeks.

Yoongi licks into your mouth, tongue ravenous as he tastes you. He pulls away for a moment, teeth pulling at your bottom lip as he catches a short breath before melding his mouth to yours again.

His hair is silk between your fingers, slipping easily as you pull him closer and closer and closer. Want pools low in your belly and you squirm in the seat. One of his hands moves toward the base of your throat, fitting his fingers perfectly on either side to give a gentle squeeze.

Both of you part slightly, exchanging breath as you pant, lips an inch apart and glossy. You open your eyes to look at him. His pupils are a little blown, looking at you like he wants to devour him. You would willingly crack yourself open for him and let him have his way with you, the craving for him overriding every anxiety and instinct you have.

“Color?” he asks, breathless. You feel lightheaded, your fingers wrapped firmly in his hair to keep you from floating away. His grip on you is firm but you want more. “I need to know.”

“Green,” you whisper. You tug his hair gently. “Please.”

It’s the only word you can think of. It’s the only word you need.

Yoongi understands. He asks nothing else of you as he reclaims your lips, nose brushing against yours as your tongue tastes the softness of his lips.

Kissing Yoongi always takes you somewhere else. You no longer feel like you’re in his kitchen, pulling and clawing at one another against the marble countertop. You feel like you’re in a place in-between, tangible and yet not quite there.

Floating forward, you let Yoongi pull you from the seat. His hands are on your waist, waltzing you toward his room. You know the steps. There’s no need to open your eyes, navigating the dark space as you slide your hands under the hem of his shirt, desperate to feel the heat of his skin.

Yoongi’s stomach is soft, muscles jumping under your touch. He breaks the kiss, dragging spit-slicked lips across your jaw. He catches your skin between his teeth in soft nibbles, a soft sting followed by a soothing tongue.

Running your hands under his shirt, you flatten your palms. He feels warm and thrumming, full of life. You tilt your head backward, letting him suck and bite and moan into the soft flesh of your throat.

Everything is spinning. You feel unbalanced as he clutches you by the waist. You bow into him, Yoongi pressing you further and further as his teeth trace the bottom of your neck.

It feels like the bubbles from your sparkling wine are trapped in your veins. Yoongi’s hands slide to your ass, kneading you over your jeans. He pulls you in tighter, presses every part of you against him. It feels hungry and desperate, drawing a gasp from your mouth as you crush yourself against him.

A pat on your ass is your only warning as Yoongi bends slightly at the knee. You jump as he hoists you and turns, sitting on the bed with you in his lap. Your hands fly to his shoulders as he gives you the higher ground, your face hovering above his as he casts his head back to look at you, pupils blinking at you like twin moons.

For a moment, you don’t initiate kissing again. With one hand on his shoulder, you use the other to trace the veins in his neck, feeling his pulse throb under your fingers for a brief moment as you drag them upward.

Yoongi is a work of art. He lets you map the canvas of his face with the tips of your fingers. Soft, round cheeks. A strong brow bone. Gentle, rounded nose. Plush, pouted lips. You trace the faint freckles, almost invisible in the darkness of his room. You’re so close you could count his lashes as they flutter closed, a hum escaping him as your fingers brush his bottom lip.

“You’re so beautiful,” you murmur. The accidental admission makes your touch freeze, eyes flying to his to see if there is any rejection there.

Yoongi doesn’t open his eyes when he says, “Why’d you stop? Feels nice. Your touch always feels good.”

Lips twitching into a smile, you continue, finger following the curve of his jaw. Your eyes keep flickering to his mouth, though, and soon you’re diving in for more, pressing your lips to his as you give a tentative rock of your hips, grinding into him.

Yoongi’s reaction is immediate. He hums in delight, the hands resting on your ass giving a generous squeeze. He lets you play with him – fingers teasing the hair at the back of his neck, your mouth exploring the areas you’ve already traced with your fingers, your hips rocking slowly at whatever pace you desire.

Arousal pools in your stomach, low and sinking. You break briefly when he pulls your shirt over your head, a glossy line of spit connecting your mouths for just a second, broken by the shirt.

Every brush of his hands on your skin brings fire. You’ve never known touch like this, never thought you could want something so much. You want everything from him, you want to scream, you want to collapse into him on the bed.

Yoongi’s mouth is ravenous, sucking the swells of your breasts as he pulls your bra off of you. you lean backward, chest pushed toward his mouth, head cast back and eyes closed. Yoongi knows what you want, taking a nipple into his mouth and sucking hard. A moan escapes, his tongue flicking back and forth over your pert bud while his other hand comes up to squeeze your other tit generously.

Every flick of his tongue, pluck of his teeth and his moans vibrating from his lips to your chest sends you spinning. It’s an effort to cling to his shoulders, keeping you sitting in his lap instead of tumbling backward. You feel like if you let go, you wouldn’t even fall – you’d just float upward toward the ceiling, toward heaven.

The world tilts. Yoongi lays backward, careful to keep you balanced against his hips. You gasp, equilibrium thrown and feeling like you’ve crashed into another dimension. You sit up for a moment, dizzy and looking down at Yoongi while you straddle his waist. His hair fans around him, lips swollen and dark from kissing. His chest rises and falls rapidly, eyes half-lidded but pupils blown.

With possessive hands you pull at his shirt, making a sound somewhere between a huff and a whine. He chuckles, his traditional sideways smirk taking over his expression as he leans up, helping you remove his shirt.

In your dreams, you remember what Yoongi’s skin feels like. It pales in comparison to the warmth of him now, firm chest under your adventuring fingertips, his heart jumping as you lean down to teeth at his collarbone.

Under you, Yoongi is a vision. Little curses escape his lips, almost like he can’t stop them. He rolls his hips into yours, seeking friction, drawing out moans from your lips, breath drifting across his skin.

Yoongi is flushed all over and his patience for your seeking mouth is at an end. He rolls the two of you, making you squeal as your back hits the mattress and his weight sinks on top of you. It’s heavy and the air is hot between you, his lips brushing your earlobe as he nips you.

“Color?” his voice is deeper.

“Green.”

For a moment he doesn’t answer. Instead, he sucks gently on your ear, breathing low and soft as he exhales. “Turn over,” he instructs gently. “Jeans off, perfect ass in the air.”

Pulling away from you, Yoongi gives you space to pull at the button on your jeans. He joins your shuffling, tearing at his own jeans. In moments you’re both kicking the material from your ankles, giggling as you lose balance and he catches you by the elbows, placing a kiss on your nose.

“Cute,” you hum.

He grins. “Ass up,” he reminds you.

With an eye roll, you do as he says despite the excitement shooting through you. You’re on your knees shuffling to your elbows when he slaps your ass with a loud crack, making you gasp more from surprise than pain. His hand is quick to rub over the stinging flesh, pressure in his fingers firm as he massages dimpled skin.

“Sorry,” he snickers. “I couldn’t help myself, I should have asked.”

“I liked it.”

He hums and smacks your ass again, much lighter, though. “Noted.” His hand drifts toward the apex of your thighs, thumb pressing firmly over your clothed hole. The pressure is a surprise, making you moan out loud, forehead dropping to his sheets.

“Fucking wet.”

Yoongi is right. You’re soaked, the thin material of your cotton underwear clinging to your folds. The pressure of his thumb gently drifting up and down your pussy is enough to make your eyes roll back, breathing becoming shuddered as he absently plays with you.

His thumb leaves you and your eyes flutter open, already missing the pressure. He distracts you when his hands drift to the elastic waistband and asks, “Color?”

“Green.”

“Mmm. Good.”

Yoongi all but rips the underwear to your knees. He leans forward and bites the apple of your ass lightly, making you laugh as he waits for you to lift one knee at a time to slide the material off.

“Really?”

“Uh-huh,” he asks, pulling his teeth away. The air cools your skin where you can feel his spit. “I said I like your ass.”

“So you try to eat it?”

He pauses long enough that you frown, turning to look over your shoulder at him.

It’s a vulnerable position, your knees spread apart with your aching pussy on display for him. You squirm slightly, seeing him look at you with an expression between inquisitive and hungry. “Has anyone?”

“Has anyone what?”

You shiver in the cold room, unable to sit still as the cool air hits you between the legs. Your eyes flutter lightly and you desperately want him to close the distance between any part of him and your heat.

“Eaten your ass?” That makes you open your eyes. You shake your head no and he grins, shuffling close to you. His hands go back to your round cheeks, rubbing his palms over chilled skin to warm them again. “Can I? We don’t have to. I definitely want to eat this pussy.” A hand sips between your legs, fingers deftly brushing up your wet slit. “Wanna play with your ass too.”

“Are you…” the words drift off as you lick your lips.

No one has done that before. It isn’t that you’re afraid of someone’s mouth being there or afraid you won’t like it. It’s just different and no one has offered it before and it never occurred to you to ask.

But it’s Yoongi asking now, and your curiosity is piqued.

Yoongi must sense your nervousness. He squeezes you. “We don’t have to, forget I-“

“I want to,” you cut him off. You chew your bottom lip. “I think. I don’t know what it feels like.”

He smiles. “I like it. We can always stop if you’re not enjoying it. If it’s not good, tell me.” His pointer finger presses to your clit, making you sigh as pleasure shoots down your spine at the pressure. “First, this.”

Yoongi vanishes from your vision. You feel the bed dip where he leans, his hands skating from your ass to your thighs, rubbing up and down. Your eyes close and you sink your face into his bed as he places chaste kisses on the back of your thighs.

Fear of imperfection does not exist here. None of your previous concerns cross your mind with Yoongi – not anymore. Especially when he digs his fingers into the meat of your thighs and strokes his tongue slowly up your slit.

“Fuuuuuuck,” you whine, unable to help yourself as pleasure shivers through you. It feels different from this angle as Yoongi slowly laps at your cunt with his tongue, mouth giving your pussy a gentle suck. “Yoongi- nnn.”

His hum vibrates through you as he leans in to gently pull at your clit with his lips. “My favorite fucking pussy.”

Even if you could respond, you don’t. Yoongi shoves his face in your cunt, tongue licking slowly and greedily. You can feel yourself dripping, fingers knotting in his sheets as he mouths at you.

The feeling that twists in your stomach is so tight that you feel like you sink further and further into his mattress, turning boneless. Yoongi uses his fingers to spread you wide open for him, alternating between fucking his tongue thoroughly into your clenching hole and giving broad, slow stripes up your entire pussy.

If there is one thing you can tell Yoongi enjoys, it’s eating you out. He doesn’t hide his enjoyment, his mouth messy and loud as he sucks at you. His hands do all the work holding you up as he continues to push his face into you.

Unyielding hands skim up to your cheeks. Yoongi spreads you a bit, pressing you into the bed further with the weight of his grip. With another long lick from clit to hole, Yoongi licks past your dripping entrance to tentatively flick at your perineum.

The feeling is different, making you hold your breath. His tongue continues with a few tentative licks and one of his hands leaves your ass, drifting to your clit. Your legs tremble as he applies gentle pressure, circling your clit with his fingers as he flicks his tongue against that new spot again.

It feels… nice.

A sigh leaves you as Yoongi drags his tongue upward, pressing it flat against your tight hole. You sigh as he curiously flicks over the unfamiliar spot. Each new pass of his tongue makes you shiver. You feel a little high, your cotton-candy-mind fuzzy and drifting.

Everything nerve feels like an exposed wire, sparking and jumping as Yoongi presses the flat of his tongue against your rim. The pressure feels good, something you didn’t expect. You relax further into the mattress, melted and mindless.

Noises fall out of your mouth. You're unable to stop them, lips parted and breathing sharply. Sometimes your breaths form his name, a curse, or something in between. The orgasm building in your stomach is white hot, your insides squeezing tightly as you begin to dig your fists into the bed, trying to release the tension.

“Color?” Yoongi asks. You mumble something incoherent, eyes rolling backward under closed lids. He presses a finger harder to your clit. “Color, baby. Try to tell me.”

“Green.”

You think it comes out something like grnn or gren – it's hard to tell with your words muffled in his dark sheets and the heavy feeling of your tongue in your mouth.

“All fucked out?” his words are deep as he kisses your ass cheek. “Feels good?”

“Mhmm.”

“You gonna be able to take my cock?”

You nod desperately. You want to feel the weighted slide of Yoong inside you, want to feel the pleasure as he sinks in. But you haven’t even cum from his efforts with his mouth yet and you feel dangerously close to passing out from delight.

But you want him. So you search for some clarity and come to, clearing your throat and getting up to your elbow as you gently push your ass backward him. “Yes,” you say. “Please.”

“Mmm.” Yoongi dips his head down and gives a quick prod with his tongue. You drop your forehead to the bed, panting heavily and arms shaking. He pulls away briefly before spitting, making your muscles spasm as you gasp. “Cute little hole.”

You hear the grin in his voice. “Fuck - Yoongi.”

Carefully, Yoongi’s fingers go back to your clit, circling faster. Your stomach lurches. Warmth spreads over your skin. You squeeze your eyes shut, shoving your ass backward to meet his hungry mouth. It feels like you’re going to explode, your pleasure so tightly wound that you know you’ll snap at any second.

Everything clenches all at once. You gasp and hold your breath. Your orgasm rushes out of you, pussy pulsing against Yoongi’s mouth as he hungrily sucks and licks at you. You can feel his hands rubbing up and down your thighs, the press of his mouth firm and unrelenting as you tremble against the sheets.

Catching your breath is hard. Yoongi pulls away from you as your legs give out on the bed. His palms are steady, kneading the flesh of your ass as he lets you claw your way back to the world of the living. Everything feels thick and heavy in your head as you roll over, breathless.

Yoongi kisses your knees and thighs, hands never pulling away from you. You look at him and you twitch through another shiver. The air is cold against your body but you feel over-warmed by your orgasm and the heat of his gaze as he stares at you.

Surging forward, you reach for the hem of his boxers, hardened cock straining under the dark fabric. Yoongi watches with lips curved upward as you sit up and shuffle to him, hands hanging loosely at his side. You feel the burn of his gaze as you brush your fingers up his shaft, feeling him through the material of his briefs.

Yoongi hisses, making you glance up at him as you use a finger to delicately trace the outline of his straining cock. His eyes are closed, head tilted toward the ceiling in prayer. You grin, gripping him firmly through the fabric, the curve of him heavy and warm in your hand.

“Mm don’t tease,” he mumbles. “I didn’t tease you.”

“This is fun, though.” You dip your hands under the elastic waistband and grip Yoongi’s cock firmly. His hips twitch and he opens and closes his fists, his breath coming out shaky. “You’re pretty.”

Carefully, Yoongi helps you take his briefs off before letting you mouth at him. He hums in response but otherwise remains to kneeling with his eyes closed, letting you do what you want.

Watching Yoongi’s minute expressions and body language as you pull him out in full is fascinating. His lips and brows twitch when you take his cock in your palm, stroking to the tip to gather the precum there. You work your hand up and down firmly, lubricating his cock with gentle twists.

Little sounds escape Yoongi’s mouth, making your grin spread. Everything he does pulls you in. His hips thrust lightly into your hand, his mouth is parted, neck shining with a light layer of sweat. It’s addicting, the way he loses himself at your touch, completely at ease and safe in your hands.

Surging forward, you take the crown of his dick into your mouth, swirling your tongue around. He curses loudly, a hand shooting to your head. His fingers are firm against your scalp, not pushing but clinging to you desperately as you low the spit in your mouth to dribble down the sides of his cock.

The salty taste on your tongue spurs you further, sliding down a little further each time you bob your head. It’s slick and messy but you don’t care, using a combination of your tongue and hollowed cheeks to slurp at Yoongi generously. You hum around him as you pull away from him with an audible pop, a string of spit chasing you.

Yoongi, though appreciative, has had enough. He surges toward you, pulling you gently by the hair to lay you back as he crawls on top of you, lips going to your neck and jaw. He presses himself between your hips. Your thighs spread wider to accommodate him, hips sticky with sweat and leaking arousal where your skin presses flush together.

For a few seconds, Yoongi’s mouth leaves you to reach for a drawer. You don’t know what spurs you still is movement, hand wrapping around his forearm firmly. He glances down to see you, your eyes round and hopeful.

“No condom?” he asks, arching a brow.

“We exchanged test results,” you murmur. It’s true – you had done that before hooking up with him in the first place. “And I’m on birth control. I mean – we don’t – sorry. I realize that’s not-“

He interrupts your thoughts with a soft kiss. “I want whatever you want.”

“I just…” his breath is hot against your face, his nose brushing against yours. “I realize that you may have other partners, I didn’t mean to assume and-“

“I don’t.” You stare at him, heart beating wildly. “It’s just been you since we started. I’d tell you if I was sleeping with more than just you.”

“Oh.”

You feel his smile more than you see it, his lips pressing against your cheek. “So you want me to fuck you raw, huh?”

You laugh at the way he says it, shoving at him slightly. He doesn’t budge, nipping your chin. “Just wanna feel you.”

“Fuck. Okay.” His hands scrape up your sides, cupping your tits as he licks and sucks the flesh around them. “How do you want it, hmmm?”

Instead of answering him, you roll, pressing your ass toward him. Yoongi kisses up your back, hands coming to either side of you as he cages you in with his chest.

“Mmm.”

Yoongi gets to his knees as you shift to all fours, looking over your shoulder at him as he shuffles behind you. His chest is pink and red, splotchy with warmth, and flushed from effort. He strokes his proud cock a few times, your eyes zeroing in on the motion. His tip is flushed scarlet from your teasing and slick with spit and precum.

His other hand comes to dip between your legs, teasing your clenching hole lightly. You whine and shimmy your hips, pressing toward him. He tsks at you but grins before pulling you open a little more. He has your knees spread far apart as he grips the base of his heavy cock to prod your entrance.

“Fuck.” You go down to your forearms, ass higher than your head. He makes a sound between a laugh and a moan as he slips his cockhead further, running it up and down your pussy to gather your slick. You’re a dripping mess and you don’t care. “Yoongi.”

“Yeah?” He asks as he slides his cock past your entrance again. You clench around noting, frustration building. “Want it, hmmm?”

“Yes.”

“Fuck, you’ll get it.”

Even though he warns you, Yoongi catches you off guard as he glides his cock forward, making it a point to slide in this time. Your breath gets stuck in your lungs as you breathe in sharply, the pressure of him sliding in on one thrust sending you spinning.

Yoongi’s cock is thick, filling every part of you as he sinks to the hilt. You feel his hips pressed against you, still for a moment as your pussy flutters around him. Your hands twist in the sheets, trying to ground you as you breathe through pleasure with the barest hint of pain.

“You okay?” his voice is deep and rumbling, pulling you back to reality.

You nodded your head, forehead pressed to the bed. “Feels so fucking full.”

Yoongi let’s out a breathy sound as he pulls back, the slide of him glorious against your walls before he thrusts in again. He glides without resistance, each slow pull sparking in the softness of you. Moans drip from your tongue.

Every roll of Yoongi’s hips is measured, setting a deep, gentle-stroked pace. It feels so good, like the tip of his cock is in the deepest parts of you.

When you start to thrust your ass back to meet him, Yoongi grunts, picking up the pace in earnest, fucking into you with force. You feel the weight he puts behind it, his cock brushing your spot each time and fuck you swear his cock is hitting the depth of your stomach, so deep you’re delirious.

“Oh god,” you gasp, trying to get a single, steady breath in. It’s hard, breathing past the electricity humming along each vein and the pleasure curling its fingers in your stomach. “Fuck – holy shit – fuck.”

“Pussy feels so fucking good,” Yoongi growls. He’s fucking you harder now, the slap of his hips against your ass audible. “You’re so wet, just fucking drooling on my cock.”

“Deep,” you manage to moan out, the only word that rolls around your rapidly emptying mind.

Yoongi changes the angle, hiking a foot up so that he’s almost lunging over you. His fingers claw into your hips, pulling you backward to spear you on his cock over and over and over. It feels so goddamn good that you should have known you would be a goner for him.

And then he introduces a thumb pressed firmly to your ass, the pressure on the nerves there enough to make you fall forward. Your breath gets caught in his sheets as Yoongi’s thumb circles your tight rim, not slipping in but playing with it enough to send your eyes back in your head.

You’re unsure if you’re even participating as you skyrocket toward another orgasm. You can’t say anything, can’t think anything – you’re helpless and whining as you suddenly go taught like a bowstring, pussy clenching around his cock as you come.

Yoongi is vocal, grunting as you squeeze him. He fucks you even harder, elevating your high. A squeal escapes you as you shake from overstimulation, the pleasure blinding you momentarily and making you go numb.

Everything flips as Yoongi pulls out and rolls you. It’s not graceful, but your tangled limbs follow his hands and movements as he spreads you out on his bed, breathing hard. His hair sticks to his forehead, slick cock bobbing against his stomach as he stares down at you. In return, you blink back up at him. You’re on the border of something like subspace, the pleasure sending you into a dark, fuzzy corner of your mind.

“Color?” he asks, hands soft on your spread thighs.

“Green.” You lace one of your hands with his, squeezing. Hair sticks to the back of your neck and the sheets beneath you smell like sweat and cum but you don’t care. “Green.”

“Can you give me one more? Wanna see your face when you lose it.”

You nod and reach for him. He seems confused but leans down, letting you brush sweaty hair from his face. His eyes close at the soft touch, letting you press the pads of your fingers into damp skin as you trace the shape of his features again.

“Wanna see you too,” you admit softly.

That earns a smile from Yoongi, the kind where he ducks his head shyly and it’s all gums and crinkled eyes. You love when he smiles like that. It makes your heart flutter, interrupted only when he thrusts back into you without warning.

You gasp and he chuckles. “Sorry.”

“Don’t be,” you manage to grit out. You arch your back as Yoongi pauses to lean back, grabbing your right leg, lifting it and shifting your position so that both of your legs are pressed together, draped over his shoulder as he leans into you. “Holy shit.”

“Yeah,” he pants, setting a hard and fast pace as he fucks into you. “I know.”

The angle is divine. Your thighs pressed together make your pussy feel tighter. You swear you feel every ridge and vein of his cock as Yoongi fucks into you hard. His thrusts are shallower and he bites his bottom lip, focusing on the way his cock disappears inside your heat.

In this position, you can watch him. His stomach flexes with every movement, muscles jumping and twitching. His hips are glossy with sweat and cum, but he doesn’t care. One hand grips your half, fingers dimpling in your skin while the other holds your hip.

One of your hands shoots to the hand at your hip, gripping his wrist as your eyes roll back into your head. You feel your orgasm again, rapidly approaching though not as strong as the second one. You can’t remember anyone ever making you cum over and over like this, but Yoongi is relentless, chasing after it.

“Touch your clit for me baby.” He’s busy holding your legs and hip to do the work for you. He kisses your calf, gentle in comparison to the way he’s throwing all of his weight into his thrusts. “I’m so fucking close.”

Following his instructions makes you squirm. You deftly circle your throbbing clit with your fingers, the stimulation making you shudder and whine. He laughs and encourages you to keep going.

The sensitivity is replaced with mind-numbing pleasure. You can feel your third release on the horizon, your breath hitching, and your moans coming out as high-pitched staccatos.

“Shit,” he curses, head ducked down. “Fucking squeezing me.”

Something about the way he’s fighting to stay composed sends you over the edge. You almost don’t feel yourself come, everything going white-hot and tingling at once. Yoongi come with you, losing his rhythm, curses laced with your name.

Time seems not to exist in the space between you. Yoongi pulls out – you only know because you suddenly feel empty. Cum drips down your entrance to the bed, the sticky feel of it slightly uncomfortable as you lay with your head to the side, unsure how to move or do anything else.

There are no thoughts. There’s just contentment and trying to catch your breath. Everything feels hot all over, like there is a fire burning under your skin. Yoongi collapses next to you, a human furnace. You don’t move away from him though, a hand automatically seeking any part of him to keep the connection between your body.

You find his collarbone, splaying your hand across his skin. His heart thuds underneath your touch. He lays a hand on top of yours, palms sticky with bodily fluids.

As your breathing slows, you don’t know how long you lay there. It feels messy but you’re tired, and just as you begin to teeter into the depth of sleep, Yoongi stirs and nudges you. A whine escapes you, but you let him pull you out of the bed, careful hands guiding you through dim light to shower.

Yoongi doesn’t turn the lights on in the bathroom. A single salt lamp casts a soft glow, more than enough for you to safely step into the glass shower. The spray of hot water uncoils already loose muscles. Your knees buckle a bit when he leaves you, but Yoongi makes sure that you’re standing safely before he steps out briefly and vanishes into the bedroom.

Steam fills the room. You touch sore places of your skin, feel the indents left by teeth and fingers. There’s an ache between your legs – battered pussy begging for sleep, you think.

When Yoongi returns, there is a soft exchange of touches. Yoongi presses soap into your skin, you scratching shampoo into his hair, a brush of swollen lips.

Somehow it feels more intimate than the sex.

After the shower, Yoongi wordlessly gives you clothes of his. You raise a brow but he waves it off, sitting on his bed and peeling back the covers. It’s a sure sign that he wants you to sleep there, and you’re so spent that you don’t think you could fight even if you wanted to.

The shirt and pants combo smell like him and you grin, sliding into the space he’s made on his bed for you. It occurs to you that he changed the sheets and grabbed a new blanket, the ruined ones balled up in a corner near the hamper.

For a moment, you feel hesitation. Yoongi’s bed for sleeping is foreign territory to you, and you’re unsure how he sleeps: does he cuddle, or does he not like to be touched, what side does he lay on what-

Yoongi reaches for you and pulls you toward him, stopping your stream of thoughts. He tucks you into his side as he lays on his back, one hand behind his head and the other wrapped around you tightly.

Sleeping curled into Yoongi’s side is the best sleep you get in months. But when you wake up the next morning, flinching at the bright screen of your phone to check what time it is, everything is long forgotten when you see a single text from your ex.

So what? You’re a pornstar now? Disgusting.

You lock the phone.

Sit in Yoongi’s room as he sleeps deeply behind you for a moment.

And then you get up and leave without a second thought.

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