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cattjull · 3 months

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'𝔠𝔞𝔲𝔰𝔢 𝔦 𝔨𝔫𝔬𝔴 𝔱𝔥𝔞𝔱 𝔦𝔱'𝔰 𝔡𝔢𝔩𝔦𝔠𝔞𝔱𝔢— 𝖕𝖆𝖗𝖙. 𝖎𝖎

bsf!ellie x reader 🤭

PART 1

SUMMARY: "Truth or dare? Kiss me." As you thought, throwing away your friendship with Ellie wasn't as simple as that. If she only didn't ran away... Now what?

CW: r!is afab, alcohol game, smut?, strap use (e! receiving),

A/N: Pls enjoy and sorry for taking so long <3

"Truth or dare?"

"Truth."

"Do you like me?" Your eyes shifted to Ellie's lips for a split second, just a teeny tiny small amount of time which she wouldn't notice since she was so drunk, at least you hoped so. The atmosphere or, maybe, the weather had turned unbearably hot.

"I won't tell you Els." You said, the fact that you didn't want to answer that question said enough itself. You bent down and stretched your body a little to reach the bottle.

You kind of felt relieved to get away from Ellie. Her words worked like spells on you and that, the way she touched you and the fact you were kinda drunk too made you almost confess your feelings to her and, what if she was just drunk and didn't like you? Even worse, what if that happened and Ellie remembered everything next day (there was no way she remembered), what if everything changed?

You grabbed the bottle, directed it towards your mouth and took two sips of that drink that you didn't even like, a trickle of vodka escaping treacherously from your mouth. You wiped it with your fingers, leaving a little of lipstick on them.

"Truth or dare, Dina?" Dina was so shocked by both of you that she almost jumped when you turned towards her.

"What? Oh yeah, dare."

"I dare you to tell some guy here you're pregnant and it's from him."

3 a.m.

"I dare you to kiss the girl on your left." He said with amusement shining in his eyes. Ellie looked at her hands, trying to remember what was her left, and looked at you. Her eyes went directly to your lips and her face turned crimson red.

"What? Why?"

"It's a dare , Ellie." He said shrugging while trying not to laugh.

"You don't get to tell me when to kiss my girlfriend." Ellie said, crossing her arms and furrowing her eyebrows.

"Your what?" You laughed. Ellie then looked at you, mentally debating something. She got close in less than a second, now being inches away from your face. Her hands were on both sides of your hips, the way she was bending over you making you drool.

"Can I, babe? Your lips look- I mean, it's a dare." She was all so flustered, her rosy cheeks glowed and her parted lips hydrated with her transparent lipgloss looked delicious under your gaze. And, wait- what did she just call you? Babe? Well, how could you say no? You both wanted it, it didn't matter if it was just because of the alcohol. It didn't matter if it was a mistake.

You just stayed looking at eachother for a few seconds, doubt glimpsing in your eyes, and hers. What could go wrong? Absolutely nothing. And maybe it was for that four horrible sips from when you were dared to eat a whole jar of mayonnaise thirty minutes ago, but kissing Ellie seemed like a good idea. A really good one.

You leaned in closer, feeling her minty scent now mixed with alcohol. She broke the almost inexistent gap between your lips as she positioned herself close to you. Her lips were wet from the lipgloss and yours were a little sticky from your lip oil and the matte lipstick underneath it, her mouth tasted like chocolate and alcohol and you hoped she could feel the vainilla scent from your Victoria's Secret lip gloss: you had put on that one specifically because you knew Ellie loved it. You held Ellie's short hair, tied messily in a half ponytail, and her hands placed on your waist, pulling you closer. Ellie's tongue got slowly into your mouth, and seconds later you were devouring eachother until you felt two hands from the same person who dared you to kiss separating you.

"Okay girls, that wasn't in the script." You suddenly shifted your gaze to Lacy, who was frowning with a kinda... scary? expression at her phone whose camera, you were sure, was pointing directly at you seconds ago. It mustn't be it, you thought, and then looked at the guy who caused you and Ellie to pull apart. "Just get a room."

"Very funny, Liam."

"I'm Nate but thanks."

The rest of the night passed with a hint of something between you and Ellie. Plus, you found out Lacy had sent a 45 seconds video of you and Ellie making out to a bit less than half of the people in the party were... enough for everyone to find out.

Now it wasn't just Dina and your best friends (excluding Ellie duh) joking about Ellie and you. It was everyone there in the party.

Half of them suspected before about you being in love just because you were lesbians and the other half didn't even know you at all but just had a gut feeling that there was some chemistry between you. So, under that context, when a video like that is sent to you, how could you ignore it and not tell someone else? It was just the truth.

You couldn't blame anyone, though. In one hour everyone knew you had turned into girlfriends, deciding to reveal your relationship to everyone it in a very public way (nope, that didn't happen) and no one really cared or would remember it in some days but gossip is gossip, and god you just couldn't pull back in that video that lasted like... 40 seconds? It was something scandalous and it felt great to spread something like that, somehow.

After a girl that you were sure she was in the cheerleader team told you she supported you with a sweet smile on her face and exchanging some words and a smile, you said goodbye to your friends and called an Uber: It was getting too late and you were getting too drunk.

You held Ellie's hand and dragged her to the outside of that big house, some guys making jokes and speculating about your destination or what were you going to do later, which definitely (and sadly) wasn't where they thought it was. The warm nocturne spring air stroked your whole body delicately when you opened the doors, giving you an instant moment of relief as your ears enjoyed the outside, much less noisier than inside of the building.

"We're going home, Ellie."

"What? Weren´t you taking me outside to...? Oh, going home. Rightt." Suddenly you had Ellie's arms around your waist, pulling you closer and pressing your bodies together, her face dangerously close to yours with a smug smile as her raspy voice worked like an Aphrodite's spell on you. You felt your face heat up for probably the millionth time this night: Ellie had been way clingier than in any other party binge. You put your hands in Ellie's soft face, letting yourself enjoy her warmness and at the same time stopping her from getting closer; you wouldn't be able to resist the tentation if she did, and in some way this felt wrong.

"Ellie please stop. You'll regret this tomorrow." It hurt you to say.

"I guess I'll wait home." She huffed.

"We'll talk tomorrow, okay?" You sat on the entrance staircase and Ellie did the same.

"I want to talk now." You chuckled.

"What do you want to talk about?" Ellie let her head fall on your shoulder, allowing you to feel her mint scent.

"Did you know that stegosaurus's brain was the size of a walnut? They surely didn't get good grades." She said and smirked, causing you to smile sweetly at how cute she was blabbing about the things she liked.

"You told me yesterday." You leaned your head on Ellie's and, after convincing yourself it wasn't weird and that was a friends thing, you held Ellie's hand.

Both of you stood quietly there with a few cheek kisses and a prolonged hug in between until the Uber arrived around nine minutes later. The Uber was an old men, maybe in his fifty's. He confessed to don't know where your street was and put on Google maps. He was sincere, at least. It kind of reminded you to Joel, conveying a sense of trust through you.

"Are you guys girlfriends?" He asked casually.

"Oh, no no no. Of course not. We're best friends." But we should be girlfriends, though, you thought and smiled.

"Oh, sorry. You just reminded me of my daughter and her girlfriend."

You had some small talk with him while Ellie held your hand, playing with your fingers and discretely kissing really silently your ring and middle ones, a hint you would ignore completely, until you arrived home and paid a bit more than necessary because the man was really nice and it was really late.

You finally entered your house, feeling so tired that you didn't even bother to take your makeup off. You just went upstairs to your room and put on some t-shirt, an Ellie's t-shirt you ""borrowed"" from her and since you did you used every time you were home, and pajamas shorts, lending Ellie some comfortable clothes too and trying to explain her you weren't going to do ANYTHING with her now because, come on, you almost weren't conscious enough to notice how drunk you were and it should be enough for you to not try anything. But being honest, if you hadn't been tired you probably wouldn't have cared.

You fell on the bed first, moving to the wall side. You were too tired to form a coherent idea, and yet your thoughts still managed to wander around Ellie. It was always like this, but this time after the kiss it was stronger. Ellie, Ellie and Ellie.

Ellie went to the kitchen to drink some water and then headed back upstairs to your tidy room, walking towards your bed with a gait sloppier than usual. As you were almost asleep you didn't notice her getting closer to the bed, nor laying down nor climbing on top of you and kissing your now clean lips shortly, without a hint of boldness despite his dirty comments towards you during the whole night.

Her lips tasted heavenly perfect, like cocktails and vodka, the chocolate taste from earlier had disappeared almost completely from her lips. You opened your eyes, surprised, as Ellie looked at you with an equally intense and tired gaze.

"I love you." She whispered with that velvety and husky voice of hers that drove you crazy every time, her breathing got more shallow.

"I love you too but it's late, Ellie." Ellie smirked lazily and you pushed her, moving her to your side. She turned her back to you, knowing your next move. You hugged her, placing your head in the gap between her neck and her shoulder. The ends of her silky hair made your neck itch a little but you didn't mind right now. All you cared about was being close to her, sleeping with her, feeling her skin and her body merging with yours.

She let out a soft sigh, as if your mere closeness relieved her. Her hand positioned over yours, intertwining them. Both of you stood like that, silence accompanying the moment. Ellie fell asleep: you knew it because her heartbeat started slowing down as well as her breathing. You kissed her neck and closed your eyes until you lost you lost consciousness in a deep (and drunk) sleep.

11:21 am

You felt your head was going to break into a million pieces. What the fuck did you do last night? Before opening your eyes, you try to figure out where are you. You smell Ellie's perfume and a sudden sensation of relief comes to your body and leaves as fast as it came as soon as you remember the kiss.

Oh my god, what did I do? why did I even- Your thoughts are interrupted when you feel Ellie moving. She stretches a little and probably remembers a bit of last night because she mutters an ‘oh fuck-’ and gets up slowly, taking your hand away from her waist and trying to not wake you up.

You barely open your eyes, enough to blurrily see what is Ellie doing but not for her to notice you're awake. She gets dressed with her clothes from last night, puts her phone in her pocket and opens the door. But no, she can't leave just like that. She then turns around and walks towards you, kneels next to your bed and watches your face for a good two minutes, now you completely close your eyes.

"I love you and I'm so sorry baby." She finally whispers. Baby? Again? Well, maybe it wasn't just the alcohol. Right? "I know you don't want this." She kisses your forehead slowly, unable to pull away from your skin and say goodbye and you feel like someone has just set a fire on your cheeks and your whole body as well as Ellie stands up again, ready to leave. She gives you a last look before closing the door behind her. Now that Ellie's gone, you're fucking mad. Not just at you, for kissing your fucking best friend and stuff, but at her for leaving like that after everything.

It would have been awkward to talk, but probably better than not saying anything and pretending she didn't even come to your house in first place. You can't help but burst into tears, getting out of bed just to hold the dinosaur stuffie Ellie gave you like two months or so ago that was resting in your desk. It had been hers before she gave it to you and it smelled like her, so everytime you missed her it rapidly became a habit that you would hug it until you fell asleep.

You go back to bed and cover yourself with the sheets, with that cute stegosaurus's teddy wrapped in your arms like it's your baby and their tail between your legs. You cry because you're scared.

Your white pillow has blue stains from your eyeshadow and your tears add some wet grey to the picture but you couldn't care less. Not now.

You lay in the side of your small bed where Ellie had been before, no sign of her warmness now, feeling her heavenly perfume impregnated in the sheets, and you inhale deeply, filling your nostrils with Ellie. Just Ellie. Just pine, mint and chocolate. Just her.

Maybe Ellie never loved you in That way? People became flirty when they were drunk. Maybe that was her case. But no, she just said she loved you and called you baby. But she did that sometimes. But maybe it didn't mean anything for her.

What was next? Should you pretend that kiss and all the stuff from last night you didn't even try to recall never happened? No, you remembered there was a literal video of you making out like your life depended on it in your gallery and probably—no, definitely, in hers too. Maybe apologize? "Hey Ellie, sorry for kissing you!" Nah, you're not even sorry.

You wanted to ask her why did she leave like that but that would be so awkward for her and for you too. You kept overthinking until you accepted you wouldn't fall asleep again so you hold your phone which is on the night table. You had some messages from Dina and when you answer, she immediately texts back.

Dina😍

(10:10 a.m.) So?

(10:10 a.m.) Any news abt you and Ellie?

(11:27 a.m.) She left without saying anything

(11:27 a.m.) I pretended I was asleep.

(11:27 a.m.) I shouldn't tell you this but fuck off

(11:27 a.m.) She thinks you'll be mad at her

(11:28 a.m.) do you think she likes me back..?

(11:28 a.m.) It's not impossible

(11:28 a.m.) Does she likes me back*?

(11:29 a.m.) Confidential.

(11.29 a.m.) Just give me a hint?

(11.29 a.m.) Ask yourself

(11.30 a.m.) You were such a good friend.

(11:30 a.m.) Right?

(11:30 a.m.) WERE.

(11:30 a.m.) Ugh fine

(11:30 a.m.) MAYBE she feels something

(11:31 a.m.) WHAT?

(11:31 a.m.) I LOVE YOU

(11:31 a.m.) DINA I LOVE YOU.

(11:32 a.m.) I'M GONNA MARRY YOU.

(11:32 a.m.) What about Ellie ☹️

(11:32 a.m.) Both.

(11.32 a.m.) Well said

(11.32 a.m.) I love you

(11.32 a.m.) Yeah love you too

Els pretty

(11.35 a.m.) Ellieeee

(11.35 a.m.) Weren't you at my house?

(11.35 a.m.) I hallucinated if not.

(11:36 a.m.) I WAS TOO EMBARRASED

(11:36 a.m.) AND I RAN AWAY

(11:36 a.m.) Sorry for kissing you and stuff

(11:36 a.m.) Awwwww

(11.36 a.m.) Fuck

(11.36 a.m.) you.

(11:36 a.m.) Whatever

(11:36 a.m.) I'll watch the video

(11:37 a.m.) NO

(11:37 a.m.) ELLIE

(11:37 a.m.) Come on it's embarrassing

(11:37 a.m.) You aren't watching it

(11:37 a.m.) Right?

(11:38 a.m.) Ellie?

(11:40 a.m.) WOAH

(11:41 a.m.) WDYM WOAH

(11:41 a.m.) I took the first step🥺

(11:41 a.m.) You're being creepy.

(11:41 a.m.) 🥺

(11:41 a.m.) Watch it

(11:43 a.m.) 🤯

(11:43 a.m.) 😎

(11:44 a.m.) 😎?

(11:44 a.m.) I'm the good one kissing here

(11:44 a.m.) Wanna find out?

(11:44 a.m.) Again?

(11:44 a.m.) Ha. Ha.

(11:44 a.m.) Not funny.

So, Ellie wasn't escaping from you because she didn't like that kiss or because she wanted to be away from you, she was just scared, as Dina said. You unconsciously stopped crying but, as your hangover wouldn't let you do much, you tried to sleep again. This time it was easier: Ellie liked that kiss. She wasn't mad. She wasn't trying to make you feel bad.

The only thing on your mind now was, she didn't mention anything about a relationship or anything serious. How would you know if she wanted something with you? How many times had you thought about it in the last few days? Would you be friends? Would you turn into something more? Okay, stop thinking about it now. Something casual? You didn't want something casual. Because not even the word is really good. Casual. Casual sex. Sounds like the name of a lipstick shade. Doesn't sound well. You want something serious. With Ellie, your girlfriend Ellie. Not casual sex like the lipstick. You don't want something casual.

You were on top of Ellie, kiss stains all over her neck. It looked so pretty in that red tone of your lipstick. Her face looked so pretty full of your signature. Her pink and pretty nipples, and her small tits were marked by you too and god, you were strapping her. Fucking strapping her. You held her hips and pushed deep inside of her, making her let out a moan. You pushed again. And again. And again. And again and again and again. Her face was so red and pretty, her mouth opened, letting out your name again and again, each time messier and faster than before, her pretty cunt taking you so well, the sight of it swallowing you would be able to make you cum. You go much faster, and you should be tired but you aren't. "So... Fucking... Ah. Close." She cums, holding your arms and digging her nails into your arms as you fuck her through her orgasm, why can't you feel her nails in your skin?

"Honey, dinner is ready!" Your mom says as she opens the door.

Nice.

Sunday, 5pm.

You were more than excited to see Ellie, more than any other time before. Maybe because this was the first time you went to her house after kissing her, confessing to her and then pretending it was just a joke?

You did the same routine as always you were gonna spend the day at her house. Took a shower, put on baggy jeans, a braless tank top and a black thong you wished, deep down, she took you off. The Victoria's Secret ones, with laces and a small bow. Like, they were the first ones that you found when opening your closet, almost like they jumped to you. Not like you had been looking for them for the past half and hour.

You kind of bathed in your perfume and put on the lipgloss from Friday. As soon as it became a good time to get going, you put on some stuff on a bag and asked your mom to take you there, something she reluctantly gave in to.

"Why you always put on that much perfume when you to Ellie's place?" She laughed.

"Only when I go to Ellie's place?"

"Whenever you're going the same place as her."

"I have no clue what you're talking about." You tried to dissuade her from her suspects.

"I'm your mother." She said, argumenting with the fact she knew you.

"I always put on perfume."

The conversation was left like that, your meddlesome mother always trying to know about your love life. Not something you complained about much, though. You understood that that was her way to show just how much she cared about you.

When you arrived, you greeted your mom with a kiss and went towards the door. You didn't even give the third knock to the door and Ellie was already opening it for you, such a gentleman.

"You're that desperate for me?" You mocked her, wishing she just said yes and kissed you.

"Shut up, I heard the car. And I'm not the one arriving..." She checked the clock she had been gifted by Joel before continuing her sentence. "Twenty-one minutes before."

"I don't like being late." You argued. And no, you didn't if you were going to see Ellie.

"Do you wanna watch a movie?"

"Sure."

6.30 p.m.

"Fuck!" She gasped, clamming her hands into your arm, which was now like Ellie's comfort teddy, for the sixth time or so now.

You did this on purpose. You knew how easily Ellie got scared and everytime you watched a horror movie she got closer and closer with each jumpscare until she was practically clinging onto you. More than half of the movie had passed and Ellie was holding onto your arm and her head rested in your shoulder like you were her mother. Oh, nevermind.

"You're such a baby." You laughed at her, feeling hotter than seconds ago since the pressure in your arm just reminded you of how close you were to your best friend.

"It's a horror movie!" She said, her cheeks tinted pink.

"No, it's It. This is practically a rom-com."

"You're crazy, you're never choosing again." She whined. "You always put m-" You put your hand over her mouth, willing her to stop talking while the movie was still playing on the TV. After that, she could yap for hours.

"Shut up, this is the best part." You said with your fingertips on her lips. Was she using a chapstick? You gave her a quick glance, unable to identify if there was any change in her lips colour since the lights were turned off. The dim light from the TV didn't allow you to see it, but you definitely could see Ellie's face was crimson red as her eyes shifted quickly between your eyes and your hand.

"You're kind of... red." You teased her, moving your hand to her forehead, which presented a normal temperature. She huffed sarcastically in response.

"Watch your movie." She frowned like a mad child and looked away.

"You like me, don't you?" You knew this probably wouldn't end well. Ellie couldn't promise anything to you if you didn't show her you like her and it was the same to you.

"Can you give me a drink? Like, juice?" She ignored you.

"Fine." You got up trying to push away the embarrassment you felt for yourself, your tone coming out of your mouth much colder than you pretended it to.

You went to the kitchen and looked into the fridge for the juice she asked for. She asked for apple juice because it was her favourite one but your favourite one was orange so, of course, she had some of it in the fridge, something that ocassioned a small smile to form on your lips. You picked the small apple juice box and returned to the couch.

"Here." You sat beside her and handed her the small box, and you didn't even get to lean on the back of the sofa because Ellie was already wrapping her arms around your waist, squeezing you like a dog biting a bone. Her eyebrows furrowed as she watched the movie.

"Thanks." She said as she unwrapped the straw and pushed it through the small perforated hole of the box. She took a sip before looking at you.

"Of course." You smiled, not giving it much importance. Ellie put the box in the coffee table and rested her head in your chest again. She probably could hear the earthquackes going on in your heart. You put your arms around Ellie too; your grip was lazy and relaxed, unlike hers.

A scene that would freak the hell out of Ellie appeared on the screen and it caused no reaction on her. You turned your head to Ellie just to see what's going on and caught her staring at your lips; she immediately averted her gaze to your eyes.

"What?"

"I still think about it."

"About what?" You felt your cheeks boiling and melting in your face.

"Friday."

"What do you mean?"

"I want to kiss you again."

You sighed.

"Where is this going, Ellie?"

"Where?"

"Yeah, where. In case you don't remember, you got drunk, kissed me, flirted with me all night, in the morning you ran away and acted normally as always and now you say you want to kiss me?" There you were, throwing all the truth you had been hiding to the trash.

"I'm just confused." She muttered, looking away from your eyes.

"That's the problem. I'm not and you keep playing with me." The words slipped from your mouth and you held Ellie's arms trying to get rid of her embrace but she was stronger, her gaze piercing you.

"No, no, I mean, I'm not confused, I'm just... scared of losing you. But I can't keep doing this. I like you and you keep acting like that... You're the one playing with me. Straddling me just 'so do my eyeliner better', telling me you love me, hugging me all the time and then all the jealous thing with Lucy. Do you think I didn't notice what you were doing?" All those words came out from her mouth so fast that her lungs didn't have enough air and her face turned completely red, and if she had kept talking, she would have been blue.

Did she just say she liked you..?

"Her name was La-" She liked you.

"I don't care. What the fuck are we? What do you even wanna be?" She liked you. Her worried eyes were like lasers penetrating yours, demanding an answer from you. Yours darted to her plumped lips. What would her chapstick taste like?

She. Liked. You.

Your hand went to her soft cheek and you asked her with your gaze for her permission, your breathing turning heavy. You interpreted the response in her tough gaze as a 'yes, please.'

You cupped her face and pulled her in softly, scared of breaking the delicate situation between you, of destroying what you had in one move even if you had just told all the truth to her and nothing happened.

Her lips tasted like cherry. Delicious, sweet, wet. Just as in the other night, your mouths fitted perfectly in eachother's, there was no room for something else than being closer and closer with each second that passed by. The movie was forgotten long ago as you kept her close until your lungs started asking for some air and you pulled back, gasping.

Ellie smiled, her face had a shade of pink and she looked cuter than any other thing you have ever saw.

"So, we're..." Her green eyes shined with a mix of hope and anxiety as never before as she waited for your response.

"Girlfriends?" Ellie giggled at that, scratching her left ear.

"Yeah. it's official now."

Taglist; @warmdragonfly @sleepy-sheep-things @mamixdanni @marrycv @seraphicsentences @boobdrug @lyssaspengler

459 notes · View notes

kirqro · 5 months

Text

ᡣ𐭩ྀིྀི’ Streamer!Ellie

warnings || none !!

lower case intended

{ I LOVE streamer els :’( }

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✮ streamer!ellie ' who's set up is either a really shitty web cam or top tier. Either way she def takes pride in it !

જ⁀➴

✮ streamer!ellie ' who watches shitty reality tv shows on stream and her reactions to the scenes def had a part of her blowing up.

જ⁀➴

✮ streamer!ellie ' was really insecure when she was just starting out streaming , like poor baby would tape up her camera up in fear it would randomly turn on ;((

જ⁀➴

✮ streamer!ellie ' who after hitting a milestone finally did a face reveal and was shaking in her boots.

She was just yapping to yap lwky.. because of how nervous she is

"So chat are we perhaps rocking with my outfit !"

જ⁀➴

✮ streamer!ellie ' who fucks around with her soundboard way to much ..

like baby be pushing buttons at the wrong time

જ⁀➴

✮ streamer!ellie ' who be fighting with her viewers sometimes..

'@elliesbigfatlefttoe - Ellie why can I SEE your armpit hair peaking out bae..'

SHE SNAPS BACK SOO QUICK

"BIG FAT WHAT? .. The fuck come bite it off for me then weirdo"

જ⁀➴

✮ streamer!ellie ' who plays a variety of games from Minecraft , Valorant , Roblox , Fortnite [ she gets called dog water by random 10 year olds.. (╥﹏╥) ] a bunch of random horror games and some rpg games.

She also does chill talking streams & random reaction videos.

LMAO SHE DEF READS FANFICS ABT HERSELFF

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✮ streamer!ellie ' who EATS on fashion famous

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✮ streamer!ellie ' gets herself into random ass twitter beef and just takes all the roast she gets by 10 year old arianators..

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✮ streamer!ellie ' is really just a big loser

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✮ streamer gf!ellie ' who after she blew up needed to introduce you to her stream , or at least make it known shes MARRIED.

ellie randomly drops the gf bomb on everyone on a random thursday stream outta no where..

୨♡୧

It was a pretty chill just chatting stream

when ellie started to give her viewers a ring tour. the pads of her fingers brushed against a certain ring on her left hand . a smirk could be seen adoring ellie's face while she slipped it off and tried to be a lil beauty guru showing the ring off.

up close in action shots as she called it..

"It's a promise ring with the wifey you know !" she said with pride forming inside her chest and a smile falling on her face.

Tik tok and wlw twitter sighed that day..

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✮ streamer gf!ellie ' who soft launches you and your identity.

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✮ streamer gf!ellie ' who loves when you sit in her streaming room with her ! although she tends to get a bit shy knowing your presence is there

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✮ streamer gf!ellie ' who talks the most shit with you about petty drama in her community ..

"babe you'll never guess who got cancelled .."

before you could even open up your lips to ask her what happened she cut you off in an instant

"bro that dyke abigail , her ex came forward saying she gave her fucking chlamydia.. goodness dirty ass bitch"

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✮ streamer gf!ellie ' who loves the way you love her. she can't ever seem to really wrap her mind around the fact that you've really stuck around with her for this long!

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✮ streamer gf!ellie ' who is wife !!

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Hii bbys I acc had sm fun writing this ! soo again maybe part two ?

Again requests are wide open so pls send some !!

ILYSMM and TYSM for reading !! (∩˃o˂∩)♡

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daily click for Palestine !!

from the river to the sea Palestine WILL be free!! 🍉

#streamer!ellie #Ellie fluff #ellie x fem reader #ellie the last of us #ellie tlou #tlou #ellie williams #TLOU fluff #last of us fic #»-♡→ ‘ Cupid yaps #abby x reader #abby fluff #i love youu

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rosewaterandivy · 1 year

Note

https://youtube.com/shorts/QuNRoe29bPA?feature=share

Something like that? PLS

Love you <3

Wow, thanks so much for the request! I tweaked it a bit to fill one of the prompts from here, hope that's okay. Love you 💜

83. “Stay there. I’m coming to get you.”

When you told him what you and Eddie would be up to Saturday night, Steve groaned so loud you could swear the couch vibrated.

You can’t be serious. And leaving me at the mercy of the gremlins?

“Yes,” you grin, “I’m sure the Harrington babysitting service can handle it.” And then you’re off to get ready for the party. “Knowing you, you’ll probably have some hot date booked for after you’ve dropped the gremlins off.”

It’s not that Steve worries, really he doesn’t, because you’ll be with Eddie and Robin will show up at some point, so at least you’ll be safe. But Saturdays were for movies with the party, taking full advantage of Steve and Robin’s (five-fingered) employee discount at Family Video and hanging out.

Recently, it’s been the only time when he can see you—busy with work and classes and helping Eddie with his GED. All your free time was accounted for, used up, leaving nothing left for him.

He tried (and failed) to be accommodating about it.

This resulted in frequent calls to your house, which your mother or father usually answered with thinly veiled annoyance (Sorry Steve, she just left. No, I don’t know when she’ll be back), interrupted study sessions at Forest Hills (Eddie’s exasperated, ‘Dude, what the fuck. You’re infringing on my right to an education here.’), and drop-ins while you were working at the diner.

In short, it was becoming a problem.

So when you mentioned, last minute mind you, that Eddie needed a hand dealing for a party this weekend and you’d agreed to help out, Steve took it about as well as could be expected.

Which is to say, not at all.

It’s bad enough that he’s making them watch Rocky IV, according to Dustin. But Steve pays him no mind and pops the tape into the VCR. The kids grumble and complain, but otherwise occupy themselves by half-watching the saga of Rocky and Drago.

His leg won’t stop bouncing as he reclines against the couch. It continues for the whole movie. When the film concludes with Apollo’s tragic demise, Max starts sorting through the rest of the tapes.

“What else is in here?” Throws out a few titles as she sees them, The Color Purple, 101 Dalmations, Out of Africa—

“Nope!”

Steve nearly hip checks Lucas in his haste to wrestle the tape from Max. They grapple for a bit, nearly coming to blows but Steve’s not about to hit a child and a girl at that. This sense of chivalry does not stop Max from smacking him upside the head, but he’s victorious in the end.

“And why can’t we watch that particular one?” Dustin ventures with a curious glance to Lucas before Steve settles back on the couch between them.

“I’ll, uh,” he stashes the tape behind the sofa, wedges its case against the wall. “Tell you when you’re older.”

Dustin and Lucas continue to eye each other warily.

Then El pipes up, “Friends don’t lie.” And before Steve can stop her from what will inevitably be an embarrassing calamity—

“It’s a … sad movie,” she continues, “The last time he watched it, he cried.”

Oh. Shit.

He wants nothing more than to bash his head against the wall, but can’t risk another concussion according to the doctors and literally everyone else. Maybe the earth could swallow him whole instead? Anything to end this humiliation.

“Didn’t you watch that with—” Mike begins, because he is an asshole.

“Oh yeah,” Dustin confirms, “They watched it like, a few weeks ago. I mean, her crying I get,” he turns to Steve, an incredulous look on his face, “But you—”

“Robert Redford is a good actor, okay?” He rushes to defend himself, “Very convincing.”

“Okaaayy,” Max drawls.

An uncomfortable silence ensues. The kids settle on watching Clue while Steve takes an opportunity to refill drinks and snacks. Tries to ignore the furtive whispers from the living room. Tries to focus on the popcorn in the microwave and not imagining what you may be up to at the house party with Eddie.

“Why don’t you just ask her out already?” Will says when Steve returns from the kitchen.

The group falls silent, awaiting his response. Keep your cool, Harrington. He sets the bowl of popcorn on the table, doing his best to ignore Will’s probing question. Is almost successful until—

“Steve, you’re literally in love with her.”

He scoffs at Lucas’ blatant betrayal. Helped the kid practice everyday after school leading up to tryouts and this is how he’s repaid?

“No,” he says with a tone to convey the end of this conversation. “We’re friends, just friends and that’s it.”

A beat of silence as everyone pretends to watch as Tim Curry greets the six strangers upon their arrival to the mansion.

Dustin coughs. “Friends don’t look at each other the way you look at her, Steve.”

“Oh my god.” Max looks like she wants to brain herself on the edge of the coffee table at the stupidity of it all.

“Fuck off.” Steve huffs in annoyance, “Like I’m gonna take advice from a bunch of high schoolers.”

“Dude.”

“We’ve saved the world.”

“Like, multiple times.”

“And,” El annoyingly points out, “It’s good advice.”

Thankfully, Steve is saved by the bell. The phone trills its ring from somewhere beneath the couch cushions. Unable to find the cordless, he’s forced to answer it in the kitchen.

“Harrington residence.”

There’s music thumping and cross chatter down the line as he tries to make out who’s calling.

“Steve?”

“Rob, that you?”

A laugh, “Yeah, s’me. How you doin’ babe?”

Her voice has taken on that light, dreamy cadence it gets when she’s tipsy or high and, knowing her, it’s probably both.

“Uh, fine.” He turns to check on the kids in the living room, “Watching Clue. Did you need something?”

“Oh my god,” she rasps, “I love that movie!” A hiccup followed by a chuckle. “Nah, I’m good babe. I’m calling for someone else.”

He doesn’t know what to make of that.

“Rob, you know you called my house, right? The kids are here, if you wanna talk to them but—”

“Nonono Stevie,” she says in a rush, “M’callin’ about your girl.”

“My… girl.”

“Yep.”

The sounds of the phone being handed off to someone else. A few breaths and then, “Hi Steve.”

And oh.

Your voice is low and breathy through the phone, he can hear you giggling about something to Robin as you pull the speaker away from your mouth ‘I’m on the phone Buckley.’

He melts, just a bit. Because he knows that tone very well— when you fall asleep leaning against his shoulder during movie nights or take a brief nap sitting shotgun in his car, all raspy and sweet.

“Hey honey,” he coos, voice incredibly fond. Steve turns, closing himself off from the din in the living room. “Y’doin’ okay?”

“Mmhm, tired though.”

“Is that right?’

A yawn. “Yeah,” he can hear the pout in your voice, “Rob doesn’t wanna leave yet and Eddie went upstairs with someone like, forever ago.”

Steve’s already grabbing his keys from the counter. “Stay with Robin, okay? I’m coming get you.”

“Thanks Stevie,” you sigh prettily, “You’re the best.”

Dustin (unhelpfully) advised him to get flowers before he left, so Steve put Max in charge, out of spite. Which unfortunately broke the levy for a barrage of romantic advice from literal children: hold the door, make eye contact, give her your jacket and be on the left side of the sidewalk.

It’d be endearing if it wasn’t so tragic.

He rolls up to the house to find not only Robin, but Eddie too, at your side seated on the sidewalk. He crosses the hood of the car as you stand with a soft smile, “Sorry Steve,” you say, less sloshed since the phone call, but still tired. “Didn’t mean to ruin your night.”

“C’mon honey,” he scoffs, “There’s no way you could ruin my night.” He ushers you to the passenger seat, arm around your waist. He can smell the beer from the keg and stale cigarettes on you, laced with the comforting scent your perfume.

He shuts the door after reminding you to put on your seatbelt and turns back to Eddie and Robin. They look like they’re up to no good— Eddie’s smirking and got that glint in his eye that says he’ll be a problem, all the while Rob has a dopey grin on her face.

“She’s had water and we took the drinks from her a while ago,” Eddie says, waving back at you from the sidewalk. “Try to have her eat something.”

Steve rolls his eyes. Like he needs advice from a dungeon master on how to deal with a drunk.

Robin blinks owlishly, “Ooh, Hardee’s, get her that.”

Steve laughs as Eddie shepherds Robin away. Says something about not fucking it up and using protection. He can’t bring himself to care as he slides back into the car. The radio kicked on as he starts the car, David Byrne rhapsodizing about a girl as she was.

He watched as you bop to the song in your seat, bringing an affectionate smile to his face— eyes closed, hair whipping back in the cool night breeze as you sing along. The axels squeak when Steve pulls into the drive-thru lane.

Try as he might to keep his gaze on you, to watch you a little longer, the intercom sputters to life—a young boy’s voice greeting mechanically but trying nonetheless to adhere to Hardee’s hospitality best he can.

The burger you’d gotten—medium, double meat, bacon, all toppings between—has completely fallen apart in a splat back onto the wax paper in your lap.

“Here, honey.”

He fumbles for napkins. But you wave his worries away, licking your fingers before diving in to deconstruct your food.

“Sorry—I promise I have my shit together.” Another giggle, “Not doing well here. Makin’ a mess your car and everything.”

“I, uh, I think you’re doin’ great.”

The words slip out before he can catch them and around a mouthful of fries, you thank him, and then you take a breath, and he can literally see you winding up for another enormous bite.

“Sorry,” you pause sheepishly, “M’ starving—skipped lunch on accident.” You take the enormous bite he saw coming, and then, “Also doesn’t help—mm—nervous.”

Steve chews on a fry and slurps his soda, driving with ease. “Nervous ‘bout what?”

You swallow and steal his drink, “Weren’t you on a date?”

He blinks.

You blink.

He blinks again.

“No, I was watching movies with the kids.”

His face is so hot that he thinks someone must have thrown a fire into him. Should he have just gone along with it instead? It’s old news by now that King Steve had turned in his crown for a walkie-talkie and chauffeuring a bunch of teens around.

A beat passes and he tries again, now at the end of the meal and the stain on your shirt starting to sink in and spread, heavy enough to dip toward the skin beneath. “Do you want to take your shirt off?”

You choke on soda and add another splatter down your chest, “What?”

“You can wear my jacket,” he clarifies. “Give it back later. I mean, if you…” He frowns. “Uh. Um.”

The beemer comes to a stop in front of he Harrington house. Lights still on in the living room signalling that the party is still there.

You changed out of your shirt, ducking down in the front seat bashfully (“Look away, damn it.”), your old t-shirt in a crumple inside his pocket. His jacket hung a bit loose, but zipped up all the way and it was a good enough cover for a while.

There’s a smear of grease on your cheek from the burger and Steve knows it’s just a personality trait at this point. He laughs when you stick your tongue out, trying to find exactly where it is before giving up and asking him to wipe it off.

He shoves his hands in his pocket afterwards, thumb jammed inside his fist like a souvenir, keeping it there the rest of the walk up the drive, all the way up to the front door of his house before he wonders if he should have been trying to hold your hand.

Maybe not.

“I missed this,” he says, brushing his shoulder against yours.

You hum, knocking your hip against his. “Thanks for dinner,” you say, looking up at him.

“Yeah, of course.”

“And picking me up.” A beat passes. “And the jacket, too. It’s really nice… comfortable and, uh, smells… good. Like, cinnamon and… nice body wash and… trees.” You make a queasy face and close your eyes for a second, pinching the bridge of your nose uncomfortably as Steve looks on.

Oh, he realizes. You must be woozy.

Oh, he realizes. You’re gonna hurl.

“Steve,” Your voice is small and tight, and you look like you’re struggling to take steadying breaths. “I gotta sit down.”

“Right,” he replies. You laugh, rubbing the back of your neck before he turns and unlocks the door.

The kids are passed out on the sofa and reclining chairs in the living room. He locks the door and sneaks you upstairs, hands politely on your waist to steady you on your feet. Guides you to the left toward the guest bath and flips on the lights.

“You alright?”

The fluorescents cast you in a hazy yellow glow, squinting at the bright light. You paw at the countertop for something, water? You turn to open a drawer and find a spare toothbrush— the blue one, yours, a freebie from a check-up and gloop some toothpaste on the bristles. With a nod in response, you begin to brush your teeth, faucet running as you fill a cup of water.

Steve leaves you with a clean washcloth and towel, should you need them, and goes to check that his room isn’t a complete disaster. Bed sheets are clean-ish and he doesn’t have time to run them through the wash, though there’s always one of the guest rooms…

“Hey.”

He startles slightly, not hearing you walk in. You’ve toed off your shoes by the door and are looking sheepish, lip pulled between your teeth. “Can I borrow some clothes?”

“Yeah, sure.”

Steve pulls open some drawers, rifling through for something for you to sleep in. Throws your top into his hamper while he’s at it. He turns back to you with a ‘Hawkins Athletics’ shirt that’s seen better days and a pair of flannel pajamas. Shoves them toward you awkwardly and then promptly turns around to let you have some privacy while you change.

“Thanks.”

He makes a strangled noise of confirmation and clears his throat. “No problem.”

Hearing the rustling of sheets, he turns back around and catches sight of your bare leg as you hunker down in his bed. Heat rushes to his cheeks when he spies the pajama pants neatly folded and placed on his nightstand. You turn on your side, burrowing and fluffing the pillows to your liking.

Steve makes quick work of brushing his teeth and getting ready for bed. Shoes by the door next to yours, jeans shucked into a pile by his desk, keeps his shirt on for the sake of decency, and slips in next to you.

“I appreciate you coming to get me, y’didn’t have to do that.”

His arm drapes against your shoulder while you snuggle into him, casual affection being the norm between you two. He swallows thickly, tries to regulate his breathing when your hand rests against his chest.

“What’re friends for?”

“Hmm,” you consider for a moment. “Friends may not be the most accurate term.”

Steve bristles at that.

“What do you mean?” He turns toward you, heart racing— did you not want to be friends anymore? Did he do something wrong?

Your face is impassive, blank. Steve couldn’t even begin to guess at what you’re thinking, is afraid to even try.

Then, you smile.

Fuck. That smile.

“S-so, not friends then?”

Steve is not a religious man, but he prays that your smile means what he thinks it does. Slowly reaching toward you, he brushes a lock of hair from your face, fingers grazing your cheek.

Mischievously, you lean in, touch him soft on the lips and every beat of his pulse seems to be seeking out the sweet plush of your mouth. “If we were just friends, I shouldn’t wanna kiss you so bad, but we both seem to be … not good… at following decorum, so…” Your eyes light up teasingly, “What d’ya say?”

Steve makes a noise like a whimper. Wow. Babysitter extraordinaire with a bat of nails under his bed and it’s your smile that does him in.

You kiss him again, longer than the last, giggling softly and tugging on his bottom lip like you could pull his entire body toward you with just that. “I’m sure we could find a few more rules to break.”

#steve harrington fanfiction #steve harrington x you #steve harrington x reader #steve harrington #stranger things fanfiction #reader insert #ways to say #steve harrington fluff

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love-kurdt · 7 months

Text

Now That We Don't Talk (byler): 1

word count: 13,034

warnings for this chapter: mild sexual content, a few homophobic slurs. this is semi-autobiographical so pls be kind <3

in short, if you are emotionally or mentally vulnerable, pls dni.

When I first moved to California, it had taken me two whole months to fully unpack my boxes. And it wasn’t really a mystery as to why; I had no desire to be there. Yes, I’ll admit that I wasn’t exactly the biggest fan of Hawkins, either, considering the events of the past few years, but when it all came down to the nitty-gritty, Hawkins was the lesser of two evils. Because Hawkins had Mike, and Lenora was… well, Mike-less. I’d never really thought about my life without Mike in it up until then, because I didn’t think I’d ever have to. But then I did have to. And it was an awful feeling.

We’d driven away from the old house, and I watched as Mike became smaller and smaller, until he was merely a stick figure in the passenger side mirror. I’d blinked my tears away and turned my gaze to the road ahead, trying to focus on the lyrics of whatever song by the Smiths that Jon was playing, but it was impossible to take my mind off of my new reality. As cliché as this sounds, I felt a piece of my heart break that day. And from the look on Mike’s face as he stood idly by, bike leaning against his hip, he was hurting just as much as I was. He’d looked lost, confused, and hurt. I could totally relate.

When we’d arrived in our new house, I’d had mixed feelings about it at first, because that’s what usually happens when you arrive in an unfamiliar environment, but then those feelings pretty much dissipated within a day. The house was bigger, for one, which was nice in a way. It had two floors, and had enough rooms in it so that El, Jon, and I didn’t have to bunk up like we’d been doing up until the move. It was in a bigger town than Hawkins was, so not everybody knew each other’s business. Which was great, considering that the Zombie Boy name hadn’t been able to tag along for the ride.

It was a lot warmer than it had been in Hawkins, and I’d grown to hate the cold over the past few years, so that was a welcome change. It was a welcome change for everyone, I think. We’d taken time during our first week in our new home to just sit together on the deck, basking in the sunshine. We learned quickly that sunscreen was a must in California, even when it wasn’t scorching hot. I’d burnt my nose on more than one occasion, and El proceeded to call me Rudolph at every possible opportunity.

El’s addition to the family was another perk of moving. El and Mom had been able to bond really well, albeit over the loss of Hopper, but also because Mom finally had a daughter. El and Jon got along well, too, which was nice. And I was cool with her. She never did anything wrong to me… besides dating Mike, of course, but that was completely out of my control. Plus, it wasn’t like he’d ever want to be with me in that way. He’d set that in stone over that one summer when he told me, “It’s not my fault you don’t like girls!”

Not even half an hour after our fight in the rain, Mike and Lucas had biked over to my house to apologize. Of course, my demolition of Castle Byers and the return of the Mind Flayer had me kind of preoccupied at that point, so nothing officially happened to resolve that situation. It was the Subject Change of the Century; we got so wrapped up in the Upside Down stuff that Mike and I put it off, then put it off some more, and then swept it under the rug altogether.

Nothing was the same after that night… at least, not on my end. What Mike said to me kind of changed my life. I’d become so dependent upon his overwhelming presence near me all the time that I kind of lost sight of myself and my own identity. In my mind, I wasn’t Will; I was Mike’s-Friend-Will. I felt worthless without him, and was always so quick to forgive him out of fear of losing him that I’d inadvertently become Passive with a capital P. And I didn’t want to be that way anymore. So I created a strictly platonic boundary between us, one that allowed the tension to dissolve, and to give myself space to grieve the idea of Mike I’d created; the one who loved me back. And then… we were back to best friends again. Just in time for me to move. At least Mike and I would still be able to talk over the phone.

I could not have been more wrong. Mike did not make a single call for the entire seven months that we were in Lenora. He didn’t send a single letter, either. Well, at least not to me. El was in correspondence with him literally every week, practically skipping into the house after trips to the mailbox with letters upon letters in her hands, beaming with excitement. I hate to admit it, but it got really annoying after a while. Then, she’d started building a shoebox shrine to him, and I was just like, what’s so special about him? He’s just Mike. But then I realized that if I were in her shoes, I’d be doing the exact same thing. Because he was Just Mike, and that was why I loved him.

After watching this go on for a few months, I kind of fell into a depression, and El was too busy swooning over all the “From, Mike”s to notice that I was falling apart. I had resigned from the idea of reaching out to Mike, because he hadn’t made any kind of effort to reach out to me. That was when I decided to finally start unpacking my boxes. Unpacking meant that the move became real. Unpacking meant that it was permanent. Unpacking meant that I’d have to officially start my new life, at a new school— high school— without Mike in it.

Each box represented a call and letter El received. My clothes were put on hangers in the closet, and my art supplies finally found a place next to my bedroom window. And all of Mike’s writing was shoved away into the darkest depths of my lowest desk drawer, never to see the light of day again. Yeah, I was being petty, but I was angry. I deserved to be angry, damnit. I was angry at Mike for abandoning me, and I was angry at myself for being delusional enough to believe Mike cared that much about our friendship.

But then, I started the painting. The Painting. I’d sworn to myself that I would stop making art that revolved around Mike. He would no longer be my muse. I’d started off the piece as a typical landscape, but I added the Thessalhydra, and then I added myself, Lucas, Dustin, and… Mike, at the front, leading the Party to victory. Screw it, I had thought to myself, everyone else is in the painting, it’d be weird not to include Mike. When I painted the red heart on his shield as a finishing touch, it hit me like a truck that I’d created one of my best paintings to date with Mike in my subconscious thoughts the whole time. He was inescapable. There was no use in ripping myself up over what I couldn’t control, so I figured I’d just give him the painting during Spring Break.

Spring Break happened, and boy (man, really; the boyish look had almost completely faded away), Mike had changed, in more ways than one. He’d shown up the airport gate nearly half a foot taller, with sharper cheekbones, longer hair, and a deeper voice, wearing the dumbest looking outfit I’d ever seen. I was so happy to see him. He hadn’t been as excited as I was, considering the timid clap on the shoulder I’d been given while I’d gone in expecting one of his amazing, tight hugs. He’d always given the best hugs. Not anymore, I’d supposed. So I tucked my rolled up painting back under my arm and took a step back, letting El and Mike have their time together as a couple. I admired him from afar, but that was all I ever did.

Mike had changed, in more ways than one; he’d gotten so much more attractive… but he’d also turned into a total asshole. I finally confronted him about his standoffish behavior at Rink-o-Mania, and he’d placed all the blame on me, not once taking responsibility for essentially forgetting that I existed, and on my birthday, no less. When I asked why El got so many letters while I got absolutely nothing, he replied that it was because she was his girlfriend. Which, yeah, obviously. But when I followed up with, “...And us?” Mike had snapped, “We’re friends. We’re. Friends.” As the two of us laid in my bed that night, it set in that Mike had taken my question in a romantic context. That made my heart flutter a little bit, but I shut myself down immediately, because I was not going down that road again.

My mood hadn’t shifted much when we’d initially arrived back in Hawkins, following the worst road trip I had ever had the displeasure of going on. I’d been trapped in a weed-infused van, sitting inches away from a wordless Mike. I’d given the painting to Mike and lied about its origins just to boost his ego. And worst of all, I endured an Emotional Michael Monologue in which he told El that he loved her multiple times. When we got out of the van, I had taken the biggest sigh of relief, because thank God the suffering was over. Oh wait, no, scratch that, because the suffering had only just begun; Vecna was the “Him,” I’d been feeling all those years, and “He,” was destroying Hawkins as we spoke.

About a month into the Vecnapocalypse (Dustin had been the one to coin that term, and I’d doubled over laughing during a very important group meeting when he’d first used it), Mike had told me that he’d finally broken up with El. I was secretly elated; the mope-fest was finally over. But when Mike revealed the reason why they’d broken up, which was the very painting that I had used as a device to try and clear the air between Mike and my sister, my back-breaking efforts seemed to be all for nothing. We had a little argument-turned-heart-to-heart about it, but we hugged it out in the end like best friends do. And things were fine. We were a team again, and that’s what mattered most.

The dynamic between Mike and I changed, though, throughout the course of the Vecnapocalypse. And I wasn’t complaining. We’d gone from being virtually radio silent to… whatever the situation was. We’d flirt, hold hands, listen to each other’s mixtapes, and partnered up together during missions. This continued on for a while until one particular moment in the Upside Down, when Mike had leaned in a bit too close, almost as if we were about to… no way. I was beyond tempted to lean in as well, caving into the deepest desire I’d ever had in my life: kissing Michael James Wheeler square on the mouth. And I almost did. However, in typical Mike fashion, ever the dramatic, he’d jumped backwards, stumbled outside, tripped over a gigantic vine, and triggered a bunch of Demobats to swarm the Upside Down version of the Wheeler house. After that shit show, I couldn’t help but be a little bit bitter towards Mike. That side-battle could have cost us everything. Vecna could have won. And on top of all that, I was tired of being led on by Mike and all of his contradictions, so I kept Mike at a physical distance from there on out. We never brought up the Almost-Kiss ever again.

Things got even stranger a few years later. On one particularly gross day in August of 1989, I’d dropped by the Wheelers’ to ask Mike if he wanted to watch a movie later that night. I headed up to his room, and the door was slightly ajar, so I lightly knocked. No response. He probably had his headphones on or something. I walked in, but he was nowhere to be seen. His notebook was lying open on his desk beside a pile of multiple ripped-out pages, with one of his signature blue LePens sitting on top of the page, the cap cast to the side. Mike had a bad habit of accidentally letting his overly-expensive pens dry out, so I figured I’d do him a favor and put it back on and save him the trouble. I took a few steps over to his desk and reached for the pen, but immediately paused in my tracks when I noticed the first two words he’d written on top of the page.

Dear Will,

I shouldn’t have read any further, because I wasn’t sure if it was Mike’s intention for me to even see it, but it was too late to go back. My eyes involuntarily scanned the page, widening more and more with every sentence.

Dear Will, When I look into your eyes, I see the rest of my life. Poetic, I know. It kind of came out of nowhere. You know I’m not much of a poetry kind of guy, I’m more of a storyteller, but the thought came to me in a dream I had about you, and I just had to write it down in one of these letters.

Hold up, I thought. What the hell? He… had a dream about me? Why would he have a dream about… Why me? What letters? What was he talking ab— My eyes hesitantly drifted to the pile of papers beside the notebook. I gulped, my suspicions confirmed.

You’re asleep in my bed, and I’m hunched over my desk, writing this letter because I am freaking the fuck out. And not because I almost ruined our chance to defeat Vecna. Well, that too, sorry about that. But the primary reason for my current freak out session is because we almost kissed. And that’s weird.

I flipped to the next one.

Something is wrong with me. I swear to God, I didn’t mean for this to happen. But I keep staring at you for longer than I should. And I can’t look away. I haven’t been able to since the Almost Kiss™. You’ve caught me looking these past few times and I feel myself burning up like a match every time. And I’ve come to the conclusion that you, Will Byers, are my flame.

And the next one.

I’ve kind of gotten used to sleeping in the same bed as you, subconsciously cuddling through the night, and waking up tangled together. Your face is so relaxed right now, and you hum contentedly to yourself every few minutes. It’s so fucking cute. I’m glad you’re not having as many nightmares anymore. Or, at least you’re having slightly better dreams. I should go to bed soon. I don’t want you to catch me writing. But yeah. You’re adorable. And I really like you.

And the next one.

I was so caught off guard by the fact that you called me cute that I couldn’t get any words out. You turned around quickly to get your bike and hopped on, giving me a small wave as you left my driveway. And it hit me then: I love you. I am in love with you. Unabashedly, wholeheartedly, head over my fucking heels in love with you. And believe me, this has been a long time coming, and not just because you complimented me. I think I’ve loved you for a long time. I just didn’t know what it was.

And the next one.

Why does loving you feel so wrong, yet so right? It seems like for every thought I have about you, another comes to bite me in the ass. I wish I could just think about you in peace without all of the shame. But at the same time, I know it isn’t normal for me to like you, to love you, to want you. I’m usually able to stop my mind from wandering into that territory, but there’s something about you that is making it more and more difficult for me to resist those thoughts from entering my head. I think the main culprit is your shoulders. Yes, I said it. I am attracted to your shoulders. Specifically when you wear your polo shirts that are a size or two too small and hug your upper body a little too tightly. Or when you steal my leather jacket and shove it on, and it accentuates your arms, rather than making them disappear like it does to mine. You’re so attractive, it’s actually crazy. I think my brain needs to catch up to my heart. Because my heart is thriving, but my brain is a killjoy.

Another.

I turned to my dad with a wild look in my eyes (probably), and said some shit like, “Yeah, me and my boyfriend, Will Byers, had such a great time last night! We stared longingly into each others’ eyes for hours, then we cuddled, then we kissed, and then we got each other off! It was so hot, Dad. Truly. I wish you could’ve seen–” … I know what I said was a lot. I mean, it was pretty vulgar. Plus, it's never actually happened, and it never will happen. So I'm sorry about that.

Another.

I found this set of dice, though, and they were just… so you. They were a deep, translucent purple with gold stars painted around each number, all of which were also gold. They reminded me of your Will the Wise costume. I know you haven’t worn it in a long time, and that’s probably my fault. I think the last time you wore it was the day we had that fight in the garage, when I told you it wasn’t my fault you didn’t like girls. And the sick, twisted irony of that is, in reality, I’m the one out of the both of us who doesn’t like girls.

Another. Another. Another.

I think about you and those fucking gorgeous lips almost every waking moment. And the urge to follow through with my desire to kiss you always gets stronger whenever you’re in the room. Which is unfortunate, since you’re always in the room now— specifically my room, because it’s summer, so of course we’re hanging out every day. We made that stupid promise to dedicate one-on-one time to just the two of us. If only “one-on-one” was synonymous with “you-on-me.” Or “me-on-you”…? Either would work for me, honestly. But there’s something about the thought of you straddling me and leaning your entire body weight onto me that makes me weak in the knees. I’m kind of glad your mom wanted you home tonight, because there’s only so long I can refrain from lunging into your space and holding your face in between my hands and

But then, your very short swim trunks clung to your thighs, and eventually, I was able to see the full outline of your dick. Like, the whole thing. Those shorts do not leave anything to the imagination. And, imagine I did. I began to fantasize about the most lewd things: getting you off with my hand, sucking you until you came down my throat, using those thick thighs to grind myself down onto, groping your perfect ass as you flip me over onto my back, feeling the sensation of our dicks rubbing together through our clothes, feeling you on me, inside of me. That last mental image snapped me out of my thoughts, and I realized I was rock hard in my own swim trunks.

We fell asleep, together, on the couch last night, cuddling like we had during the time that you lived with me, and I felt something similar to homesickness. Nostalgia. When we woke up, I was resting my head on your chest, and I shifted my eyes upwards to look at your lips, which were slightly parted by the soundest of sleeps. I wanted to kiss you. I really, really wanted to kiss you, Will. And I want you to hold me in your arms forever, because it’s the only place I can truly call home.

I continued shuffling through the letters, counting twenty five. Plus the one in the notebook, which made a grand total of twenty six. I could barely believe what I was seeing. This had to be a kind of creative writing exercise or something. Or maybe he’d met another person named Will and… fallen deeply in love with them? Or maybe it was a cruel joke Mike was playing on me, because he’d decided that writing love letters would be a good prank to pull on his gay best friend. He had no right to do this to me. No fucking right. I ripped the last letter out of the notebook, gathered the rest of them between my sweaty hands, and headed down the two flights of stairs leading to the basement.

When I’d attempted to confront Mike about the letters, I was pinned against the wall and kissed as if it were something I should have been expecting that entire time. There was no way I could have fathomed that this was how my time in Hawkins was going to close out. I’d been looking forward to the point in my life where everything could just be normal for once; I’d been on a decent roll for the past two years. But Mike just had to go and drop the bomb on me that he wanted the two of us to spend the rest of our lives together, and that threw me for a goddamn loop, because in what world– in what universe– was Mike Wheeler loving me, Will Byers, even remotely viable? Had the Upside Down come back again? Was I trapped in a nightmarish torture chamber, with Mike as the subject of said nightmare?

I would believe it, honestly; when I mentally added up the Vecnapocalypse period of our relationship (including the Almost-Kiss), the endless mixed signals afterwards, senior prom, the letters, and the probability that Mike would have just let me leave town without admitting his stupid, dumb, impossible feelings or letting me know about all of those love letters he’d written over the past few years, it made sense. And that kiss, if he’d really meant it, made Mike’s stance on our relationship crystal fucking clear, leaving me feeling breathless and blindsided. By the time I escaped the Wheeler house that humid August evening with tears following the semi-permanent track marks that stained my face due to crying for literal years back to back, I knew for sure and certain that I couldn’t spend one more week in Hawkins, Indiana. I was done.

I had been pretty damn quick about escaping Hawkins to begin with, but the urgency to get away from Mike only accelerated my timeline. I spent the rest of the summer avoiding Mike at all costs; I’d been working at Melvald’s with my mom all summer, but started picking up extra hours under the guise of wanting to save as much money as I could for my new car– which I’d already had more than enough money for, but still. Time spent at work was time spent away from Mike. And a couple extra paychecks couldn’t hurt. Mom certainly didn’t complain; she loved having me around, and savored every moment she could with her Baby Boy before I moved to the Windy City.

I realized, as I sat on my mattress amongst heaps of boxes scattered across the floor of my dorm at the American Academy of Art, that anger seemed to fuel my unpacking process. It ignited the flame of desire for transition and change in my life. And oh, after the summer I’d just had, did I desperately need a change. This particular change, I decided, would be good for me. I was out of Hawkins, at my dream school, about to begin studying the subject that I loved most in the entire world, and Michael Wheeler wasn’t around anymore to throw me off. I grabbed a marker out of my pencil case and marked off the date on my calendar: Sunday, August 20th, 1989. This was going to be a good, drama-less, normal year. I could feel it.

“That’s everything, huh?” I turned to look towards the doorway, where my mom stood with misty eyes. She took a few steps inside, letting the door close, and I hopped off my bed and wrapped her in a tight embrace, kissing the top of her head.

“Yeah, this is it,” I said, my voice shaking a little bit with overwhelming emotion. It was bittersweet. Yes, I hated Hawkins, and was grateful to have finally escaped, but I also hated the idea of leaving my mom back in Indiana. She’d brushed my concern off, saying she wouldn’t be alone, because my stepdad would be there with her. I didn’t even like referring to Hopper as my stepdad. I’d accidentally called Hopper “Dad,” over dinner a year ago, and after an emotional encounter where James Hopper, the Hawkins Chief of Police, shed actual tears, the name kind of stuck. Hopper couldn’t make the trip up to Chicago with Mom, as he needed to help El move into her dorm at Vanderbilt University.

Mom pulled back to smile up at me. “You are going to do, and are already doing, great things in this world, Will. You deserve every opportunity you’ve been given, and more. I am so proud to be your mom.” I felt tears pricking my eyes. I’d miss my mom the most.

“I love you,” I replied, hugging her once more in order to avoid an emotional breakdown. I’d gotten close to having one at least five times throughout the day, but never did. I saw the door open out of my peripheral vision, and I lifted my head to see a guy step into the room. His hair was shaved down to a buzzcut, and a copious amount of freckles splayed themselves across his face. He casually strode right past me, without even acknowledging my existence, before tossing his duffel bag onto his bed and unzipping it. Only now did I notice the near-complete setup on the other side of the room; he’d apparently been here for a while.

I decided to talk first and introduce myself, because this guy clearly wasn’t willing to make any effort. I wanted to make a good impression, even if Buzzcut Dude didn’t.

“Hey, uh, I’m Will. Byers.”

“Aaron Heathrow,” Buzzcut Dude– Aaron– replied, turning towards me. We gained eye contact for the first time, and Aaron’s eyebrows curved into backwards S’s on his forehead. He looked me up and down and scoffed, returning to his unpacking without another word. Well. This was going to be an awkward arrangement, that was for sure.

“Honey, let’s go check out the common area!” Mom broke the silence, and I couldn’t help but glare back at her. I wanted to deal with this on my own. I loved my mom with my entire heart and would literally die for her, but this was not my idea of a fresh start. Mom gave me a knowing look and I, knowing my mother’s stubborn nature all too well, followed her out the door and down the hallway. She led us toward the armchairs in the common area and gestured for me to sit down next to her. I knew where this was going, but I obliged anyway.

“Are you sure–”

“Mom, oh my God, I’m fine–”

“He just seemed very–”

“Yeah, okay, he was rude,” I kept my voice low at the risk of people overhearing, but keeping my tone firm. “But not everyone in this world is kind. I, of all people, should know that.” I watched as my mom’s features fell from their usual anxiety-riddled state and into more of an empathetic sadness.

“I just don’t want you to get hurt,” she murmured, and for a second, I felt badly for snapping. I shook off that shame, because as unfortunate as this situation was, I knew in my gut that I was right; the world didn’t owe kindness to me. But I also knew I didn’t owe kindness to the world, either. It had taken enough from me already.

“I just want to stick this out for a little bit before jumping to conclusions,” I said, and my mom went to talk, but I continued on before she could. “I’ll switch rooms if anything does happen, I promise.” I took my mom’s hands in my own in an attempt to put her mind at ease, which would not be an easy feat, but I could at least try.

Apparently it worked, because the next thing she said to me caught me off guard: “Okay, sweetie. I’m sorry if I overstepped.” Who was this woman, and what did she do with Joyce Byers-Hopper? Hell if I knew.

“No, it’s fine,” I assured her, “I just… I want to start making my own decisions and being more independent and stuff. And I want you to know that I’ll be okay.” I placed a hand on Mom’s shoulder, knowing that this transition would be incredibly difficult for her to process. After everything that had happened with the Upside Down, I had been shocked when my mom was so encouraging regarding my pursuit of art school. I’d assumed that she would want me to stay as close to Hawkins as possible. But in the end, she had been the one to slide the American Academy of Art pamphlet across the table.

“I know you will,” Mom smiled up at me, reaching up to pat my cheek. I leaned into the affection, knowing that this would probably be my last time seeing my mom until Thanksgiving. She raised her left wrist up to her face and squinted at her watch. “I should start heading home, before it gets dark. I love you, my sweet boy.”

I couldn’t help but pull Mom in for one last hug, feeling the emotion creep back into my voice as I told my mom that I loved her so much and to call me when she got home so I’d know she was safe and sound. I walked her out of the main lobby, waving as she headed back to the visitor parking lot. When she pulled away, I turned on my heel and headed back up to my dorm room. My dorm room. Holy shit. I was in college. What even was life?

I opened the door to my room and saw Aaron laying on his bed, his basketball short-clad legs spread obnoxiously far apart in front of him as he read what looked like a book about the Reign of Ronald Reagan. Lovely. I diverted my eyes before he could catch me staring, and focused on the pile of boxes I had yet to unpack. I picked one up, set it down on the edge of my bed, and unfolded the pre-bent corners on the top to reveal my extensive sweater collection. Perfect.

I pulled out the blue sweatshirt on top, letting it fall into its full form in my hands. Oh, god. This was Mike’s sweatshirt, the one I’d stolen from him last winter. I laid it out on the mattress and reached in for the next sweater, but there weren’t any more. I peered inside the box to see the dice… that Mike had given me for my seventeenth birthday, the picture frame… that held a photo Jonathan had taken last year when Mike had the genius idea to hop his six foot three self up onto my handlebars, and the binder… that held all of Mike’s letters that he’d written to me. I’d kept everything in a shoebox under my bed back home, and I had no recollection of packing them. How did they end up making it to Chicago with me? No matter how it happened, it had, and I was stuck with all these memories of Mike. I would never throw them out, because that would most definitely keep me up at night. And I didn’t want to hide them away, because despite the sadness I felt when I looked at them, they were also accompanied by a strange sense of appreciation for what Mike and I did have: thirteen years of friendship. That’s still something, right?

I shrugged the sweatshirt on. I’m wearing it because it’s comfortable, I tried to justify myself to myself, not for any other reason. Now that that was settled, I was determined to unpack something that would make my room feel like my own. I set the dice and the picture frame on my desk and reached over to the rolled-up posters that sat on top of all my bags. I removed the tape from the edges of one of them and unrolled it to reveal the album cover of Goodbye Yellow Brick Road by Elton John. I smiled to myself and grabbed a few thumbtacks from my box labeled “School Supplies,” before standing on top of my mattress and hanging the poster on the wall. Once I was satisfied with its placement (five attempts and three concerningly lost thumbtacks later), I got off of my mattress and took a step back to admire my work, putting my hands on my hips.

“Elton John?” I heard a voice ask from behind me, and I turned around to face Aaron, whose facial expression had settled into what looked like disgust. I’d forgotten he was even there. “Jeez, man, if I knew I’d be dorming with a fag this year, I’d’ve brought my gun.” I knew it. I knew he was a homophobe, I knew it from the second he’d looked me up and down when I’d introduced myself earlier. Maybe my mom was–

“Better to shoot you with, my dear,” I replied coolly, before snapping my mouth shut and widening my eyes at the realization that I was the one who had just said that. I’d never been good at comebacks; that was more of Mike’s specialty. In high school, I was the one stuttering out the lamest retorts of all time while Mike verbally kicked our bullies’ asses right back at record speed. I envied his lack of filter sometimes.

“What did you just say?” Aaron narrowed his eyes and moved to get off his bed and meet me in the middle of our room, so we stood face to face. I could feel his breath on my face, and it smelled like stale sour cream and onion chips, but I stood my ground.

“I said,” I lowered my voice, moving closer into Aaron’s space, “I’m a pretty damn good shot, so you’d best leave me alone.” He took a few steps away from me and put his hands up in surrender. Good. When I promised to myself that things were going to be different, I meant it. I was not going to take any shit from this guy, or anyone else for that matter. Not anymore.

“Where was I?” I asked myself, flipping right back into the good mood I’d been in before. I picked up the next one and hummed to myself before hanging up my poster of The Cure’s Boys Don’t Cry.

This campus was so confusing. I had to stop and turn around on the sidewalk at least three times before I found the Convocation Hall, where I was due… right now for orientation. I pulled the unnecessarily heavy door open with all the strength I had, which was not much, but I managed to make it through and reach the sign in table for last names A-E.

“Hi! Welcome to freshman orientation!” the girl seated at the table smiled at me, and I noticed little white stars drawn in the corners of her eyes. “Can I have your last name, please?”

“Sure, it’s Byers,” I replied, “B-Y-E-R-S.”

“William okay? For your name tag.”

“Just Will’s fine.”

“Alright,” she nodded, handing me one of those cheesy Hello My Name Is stickers. “So you’re gonna be over in circle seven, head on over there and take a seat!”

“Thank…” I trailed off, having to squint so I could read the name she’d written on her tag. Kate. “Thank you, Kate!”

“You’re welcome!” she called after me, and I walked over towards the table with the giant green “7” centerpiece. I glanced down at my tag, noticing what Kate had written on my tag: Just Will. I swiveled around quickly, and watched as Kate snorted a laugh, giving me a thumbs up. She was funny. I smiled back, returning the thumbs up before approaching my group.

I had no idea what to expect; we’d obviously be going over typical orientation things like campus life, rules and regulations, and maybe a fire escape route or two. But we would also more than likely be doing icebreakers, like a “getting to know your peers” kind of deal. I hated icebreaker exercises, because not much about me was interesting. Not much that I was legally permitted to share, anyway. And even if I could, I wasn’t sure if I would want to revisit that time in my life, or if I wanted others to know about what I’d been through. I was kind of grateful that my NDAs revoked that decision for me.

I reached the only empty seat left at my table– karma for my tardiness– and sat down with my group, who was already knee-deep in conversation. The only seat left was between two girls; one of them looked like she could star in a live action anime series, and the other looked like she’d fit right in with a stoner rock band.

A guy with bleach blonde hair noticed my presence and glanced up, a smile spreading across his face. “Aye! A newcomer! Welcome! What’s your name?”

“Uh, Will,” I eloquently said.

The guy stood up, crossing the circle in order to shake my hand. “Nice to meet you, Will! I’m Pete, your group leader, and…” he looked around at everyone else, “Why don’t we all go around the circle to catch Will up?” The girl sitting next to Pete lifted a hand in greeting, starting off the Name Game.

“Hey, I’m Claire Bierker.”

“Ryan Baker.”

“Jackson Boonstra.”

“Ivy Baldwin.”

“Hannah Reid.”

“Wait–” Pete cut Hannah off, his eyebrows furrowing in confusion. “Reid? I have you on here as ‘Beid.’”

“Yeah, um, about that… there might have been a typo on my application, something to do with my terrible handwriting.” The rest of us laughed at that, including Pete.

“Well… I think you should be fine here. Will, take your seat between Hannah and Ivy, and we can get started on our other activities.” Half an hour went by, and we’d all kind of drifted away from the initial Orientation outline that Pete had been working off of. I was kind of glad that this was the case; if I had to tell one more person about my favorite food, I was gonna riot. Beside me, I felt Ivy nudge my arm with her elbow.

“So. This is gonna be a fucking blast,” she muttered.

“Tell me about it,” I replied.

“What’s your major?”

“Painting,” I said, “You?”

“Ceramics.”

“Woah, really? That’s so cool!”

“Thanks,” she grinned. I felt Hannah lightly tap my shoulder with her fingertips, and I turned my head to give her my attention. It hit me that I hadn’t been to a social function since that last high school party the Party and I went to; I wasn’t used to this amount of attention.

“I can’t help but notice your guitar pin on your backpack,” Hannah gestured downward, where my black Jansport backpack sagged onto my shins. “Do you play?”

No. The pin was Mike’s. I might have stolen it from him.

“My… my friend does,” I hesitated, trying my best not to outwardly cringe at myself. Mike was not my friend. Mike ruined my fucking life. He wrote twenty-six letters to me, confessed his undying love for me out loud, kissed me with an urgency that haunts me every night, and then expected me to just– “I don’t play any instruments. I wish I did. But I love to listen to rock music.”

“What are your favorite bands?” Ivy asked me, and I hummed in contemplation. I leaned back in my chair, wrapping my feet around the front legs for gravitational support. That way, I could see the both of them without getting whiplash.

“The Cure, Pink Floyd, The Smiths, the Beatles… I also like Bowie and Elton John.”

“Look at you! Hannah, this is my kinda guy!” Ivy exclaimed, smacking my shoulder so hard that I almost fell backwards onto the floor. Hannah saved me, though, pulling me upright again.

“Let’s not scare him off, now,” Hannah laughed uneasily, and I shook my head.

“No, you’re not gonna scare me off. This is kind of… nice, actually,” I admitted, folding my hands together in my lap. “Would you guys wanna hang after this snooze fest is over?”

“I’m so down,” Ivy replied instantly, and Hannah agreed not even a second later.

Maybe making new friends wouldn’t be as difficult as I’d imagined.

We ordered a pizza and, in the meantime, headed up to my dorm. I unlocked the door and braced myself for Aaron’s usual disdain, but was pleasantly surprised when my roommate was nowhere to be found. I exhaled, and headed inside, holding the door open for the two girls. Hannah immediately gravitated toward my desk, where my set of dice rested atop the little purple pouch they came in.

“Oh my God, you play D&D?” she gasped.

I nodded, taking a few steps in her direction. “Yeah, I used to play more often with my friends back home. But… I kind of stopped a few years ago. They all lost interest.” ... ‘Lost interest’ was a fucking understatement.

“Well that’s depressing,” Hannah slumped down onto my comforter, haphazardly splaying her arms out on either side. “Tell you what, though,” she lifted her head to look at me, “My roommate, Kate just so happens to be the the DM of our school’s D&D Club, and she was telling me that they’re gonna be at the activities fair next week. Maybe we can check it out!”

Wait a minute… I knew that name. “By any chance was Kate at–”

“The A-E sign in table at Orientation? Yup, that’s her!” she grinned. “She’s a junior. They paired all the freshmen with upperclassmen this year for some reason. Something about mentorship? I dunno,” she sat up and shifted her gaze to Aaron’s side of the room. “Who’s your roommate? He has…” she squinted, reading the titles of the books on his desk before widening her eyes in shock. “He has an interesting taste in literature.”

I could only nod. Meanwhile, I couldn’t help but notice Ivy’s fixation on something on my desk. Maybe she was just admiring the dice, or checking out my pile of books. But as I moved closer, I realized that she was staring at none other than the picture frame. The one and only picture frame I owned. The one and only picture frame I owned that just so happened to hold that one photo of– “Who’s this attractive string bean?”– Mike.

“Oh, he’s just a friend,” I said, and Ivy shot a suspicious look in my direction.

“Looks like you two were close,” she smirked up at me. “Really close.”

“Were. Past tense,” I repeated back to her firmly. I really didn’t want to dredge up my turbulent… whatever-ship with Mike Wheeler right now. I just wanted to focus on the Here and Now of it all.

“So, Will, are you dating anyone?” Hannah asked, changing the subject. And for that, I would be eternally grateful. Because even from hundreds of miles away, Mike Wheeler still managed to stress me out.

“No, my love life is kind of dead at the moment,” I shrugged, and Hannah’s eyes lit up.

“Maybe we can find you a cute girl!”

Woah. I hadn’t been expecting to have to come out so soon, but… there’s a time and a place for everything, and apparently, this was both the time and place, no matter how apprehensive I felt about it.

“Um, about that…” I began, but was cut off by the sound of Ivy’s palm smacking the surface of my desk.

“What did I tell you?!” she exclaimed, her wild eyes meeting Hannah’s. “I called it. I. Fucking. Called. It.” I was so confused.

“Huh? Called what?”

“You’re gay, right? You’re into guys?” Ivy asked, and I nodded hesitantly.

“See?!” she screeched suddenly. “I’ve got lesbian intuition!”

“Guess I don’t have to formally come out, then,” I chuckled.

“I’m so sorry about her,” Hannah placed a hand on my shoulder, and I shook my head. I took her hand in mine, lowering our connected hands off my shoulder and swinging them back and forth between us.

“No, it’s okay, it made things easier for me, I guess. I’m kind of glad I didn’t have to prepare a dramatic speech or anything.”

“Yeah, God, that’s always a pain,” Ivy added. “It’s so stressful running the risk of ruining a friendship or relationship just by being yourself.”

I knew that experience all too well. “Yes, it’s horrible.”

“I have a feeling we’re going to be good friends, William Byers,” Ivy smiled, taking both mine and Hannah’s free hands so we formed a triangle. “Best friends, even.”

My first class was Painting I with Dr. Miriam Horovitz, located clear on the other side of campus. I knew from the get go that it would take a while for me to figure out where the hell I was going, so I left an hour early, just in case something like this happened. And it did. So when I finally sat on a worn-down stool in front of an empty easel, it felt all the more surreal. I’d made it. To class. But also… I’d made it to art school in Chicago.

Dr. Horovitz was a short, middle-aged southern lady who had the combined fashion sense of a Flower Power protestor and a gothic, medieval witch. Mike would have loved– no. No. Not now. I needed to focus, specifically on the assignment Dr. Horov– Miriam, as she insisted upon us calling her– was explaining.

“So for your first assignment, I want y’all to paint something that brings you joy, but also inflicts immense pain. It could be a feeling, a person, a material object… it’s up to y’all where you want to take your projects. I’m just tryin’ to figure out everyone’s specific styles.”

If I were given this assignment a year prior, I would have done something related to the Upside Down. But now, as I closed my eyes, my thoughts went awry. Vines, snakes, fire… Mike. Vecna, gouged out eyes, mold… Mike. The rain fight. The Almost Kiss. The neverending flirtation. Prom. The letters. No, Will, I’m in love with you. Don’t say that, please don’t say that, you don’t mean it. Mike’s sobs echoing up the stairwell on my way out.

Well… looks like Mike is gonna be the subject of my first ever project in art school, I thought, rubbing a hand down my face with a groan. Fuck me.

I glanced at myself in the mirror, which I currently stood in front of, shirtless. I’d been insecure about my body for years. I had always been more on the skinny side, but then I got tall and skinny, my knees turned into knobs, and my voice dropped— but I kept my baby face. I was a walking contradiction. It didn’t help that my clothes just made me look worse. They were more often than not hand-me-downs from Jonathan, or purchased for a buck each at the thrift store. When I was younger, I would secretly resent my mom for not being able to afford newer, more flattering clothing. Then, I learned about the concepts of money and divorce, and that resentment never once entered my mind after that. I could never blame my mom for our circumstances, and would never dream of holding our poverty against her, but still. It was embarrassing. Especially when most of my other friends walked around looking like they’d come fresh out of the Starcourt Mall. Thankfully, when I’d moved to California, my shoulders had filled out a little bit, and I could wear most of those clothes without cringing anymore. And after the events of the Upside Down, I spent some of my government hush money on a new wardrobe.

Even then, despite the broader shoulders, newer wardrobe, and a few years’ time, there still wasn’t really much to see, physically speaking; I looked less like a young man, and more like a boy with unbalanced muscle mass and light, barely-there stubble on my jaw. To be fair, I was only five months into being eighteen, and had plenty of time for my body to mature. Working out would probably help quicken the process.

“Alright, man, you ready to go?” Aaron came out of the bathroom rather abruptly, startling me out of my thoughts. Aaron’s eyes lowered down to my torso, lingering for a few extra seconds before he said, “I’m glad you decided to come with. You definitely need it,” with a light chuckle. I felt my face burning up with self consciousness as I scrambled to my dresser, throwing on the first shirt I could get my hands on: a plain white Fruit of the Loom tee, the kind that came in a multipack. It was a bit loose on me; my mom had been a bit optimistic when she’d talked me into buying the mediums.

I could have easily turned down Aaron’s offer to go to the gym with him. Aaron’s new membership included a promotional perk which gave him the option to invite a second person for free. In turn, once the person paying for the membership had built up enough points, they could redeem said points for a private training session. Aaron, a cup that apparently overfloweth with boundless generosity, offered that guest spot up to me. Because I was poor. And skinny. And I liked Elton John. That was, like, the trifecta of male incompetence. I often thought about why Aaron insisted upon coming to the American Academy of Art if he hated gay people so much. I assumed that in order to get on Aaron’s “good” side– whatever the hell that even meant, if it even existed–, I would simply have to play the role of a straight guy, which was what I had been doing for my entire life up until a few months ago, so it wouldn’t be difficult to do.

I hastily laced my black high top Vans up, tying them a bit too tightly, but I was too intimidated by my roommate’s eyes drilling lasers into my scalp to care. I grabbed my empty drawstring bag, because what do you even bring to a gym, tossed my wallet and keys into it, and followed Aaron out the door. We headed down the hall and descended the stairwell, and I watched as his calf muscles flexed with every step.

“So. How’re you liking the school so far?” he called back to me, and I got confused for a second, because, was he talking to me? “Any interesting classes this semester?” Oh. Okay, so I wasn’t just hearing things.

“Uh… it’s good,” I replied, quickening my steps to catch up to him, “I really like my painting class. The campus is just kind of confusing to navigate.”

Aaron chuckled at that, holding the door open for me once we reached the dorm hall entryway. “Don’t worry, you’ll get used to it. I must have gotten lost seven or eight times in my first year.”

“Oh, you’re a–”

“Junior. Architecture major.”

Huh. I’d kind of forgotten about the Junior-Freshman pairing system. And it made a lot of sense why he had decided to pursue architecture. It’s the straightest art form there is. We approached the student parking garage, and Aaron fished in his pocket for his keys.

“Oh, nice,” I said, “what made you choose to go here?”

“They have the best architecture program in the state,” he shrugged. “I’m really into postmodern stuff as well, and most schools don’t really teach that. But they do here.”

When we got into his car, I had to hold myself back from rolling my eyes into the darkest depths of my skull, because of course it was a Mercedes. Aaron checked his reflection in the rearview mirror before reaching an arm behind my seat, leaning back and looking behind him as he backed out of the parking spot. I was shocked; Aaron seemed to despise being within two feet of me, and now he had almost come into contact with my shoulder. Were we… making progress? “By the way,” Aaron said once he’d changed gears, “I’m sorry for being such a dick. I think I misjudged you.”

See, now, my kneejerk reaction had always been to cut the person who was apologizing off with a lighthearted, reassuring, “No, it’s okay.” I always felt the need to absolve people of their guilt, but now, that need was seemingly gone, because I let him continue with his apology without interjecting once. And it felt nice to not take on someone else’s burden.

“I just can’t stand all these fucking homos around here, I thought I was stuck living with one.” If he hated homos so much, then what the hell was he doing at the American Academy of Art? What was he expecting? If you hate gay people, don’t go to an exclusive art school. You’re basically asking for your own personal torture chamber, I thought. But I kept my thoughts to myself, opting to sit there in silence for the rest of the ride. The drama simply wasn’t worth it.

We arrived at the gym, and Aaron headed straight over to the treadmills. “Cardio,” he explained, and I went along with it, because if it weren’t for him, I would have no clue where to begin. We ran a mile and a half before switching gears and moving to the dumbbells. Aaron handed me a pair of 2-pounders, just to fuck with me, but then actually taught me how to lift the 5-pounders properly, without tearing muscle. We then moved over to the larger sets of weights, which Aaron loaded onto a bar and taught me how to do a proper barbell hip thrust, which I found to be a strange first exercise to teach someone. I had no idea so much effort went into the form and technique. But I found myself strangely loving it. I’d have to find time to go on my own time, so I didn’t feel so pressured as I did around Aaron.

I felt like I was dying as we stood beside the water fountain. I raised my cheap AAoA water bottle to my lips and chugged the lukewarm water as quickly as the dumbass mouthpiece would allow me, which was not much. I messed with it for a few seconds before Aaron grunted out, “Congrats on the new girlfriend, by the way.” I was so glad I hadn’t unscrewed the top yet, because I damn near dropped the bottle out of pure shock.

“I’m sorry, what?” I spluttered, and Aaron merely clapped my back with a laugh. “Don’t be shy, Byers, you’re dating Hannah fucking Reid! Own that shit!” Oh, I was going to kill her. I knew she meant well, but… really?

As soon as we got back onto campus, I sprinted to the girls’ dorms and up the stairs to Hannah’s room. I knocked, but could hear really loud music playing… was that Zeppelin IV? We’d gotten to that point in our friendship where Hannah, Ivy, and I would barge into each others’ rooms unannounced, but I apparently never got the memo that anything had changed.

“Wanna tell me why Aaron goddamn Heathrow thinks we’re–” I started, but cut myself off at the sight in front of me. Ivy and Hannah pulled away from each other– no, excuse me, Ivy moved from where she’d been straddling a borderline naked Hannah on her bed. I turned away, shielding my eyes with a screech. “Oh my God, I’m so sorry, I should have knocked louder– You guys are together?!”

And then it made so much more sense. If Hannah and I were “dating,” at face value, then she’d be able to be with Ivy. And– in their words, not mine– I’d be able to find a “sexy hunk” of my own someday soon. As much as we all hated the idea of a “beard,” arrangement, it was the best possible way for all of us to love who we wanted to love. That conversation ended with happy tears, hugs, and hope.

My sketch of Mike was coming together nicely. I’d been meticulously planning it out for the past week on smaller sheets of paper, and had finally transferred it to a giant canvas. I shifted my hand from side to side across the canvas to darken and further emphasize Mike’s prominent jawline. It was insane how drastic and how quickly that transformation had happened; it was so hard to believe now that Mike had ever been bullied for his looks. If only our bullies could see what Frog Face looked like now. I was convinced that if someone were to put a piece of glass within three inches of Mike’s insanely sharp bone structure, the glass would split in two. I smirked at the thought and glanced down at my pencils, which I’d lined up neatly on my right hand side in order of lightest to darkest. I was about to decide which one to use for shading his cheekbones when I heard a familiar, strong Southern drawl from behind me.

“And who is this handsome young fella?” Dr. Horovitz asked me, and I felt my body deflate a little bit. She wasn’t wrong. Mike’s attractiveness was undeniable. Using Mike as my muse for the past thirteen years definitely helped in portraying his beauty. Even then, I didn’t want to entertain that idea any longer than I had to, so I downplayed it.

“Oh, just this guy from back home,” I said, refusing to meet her eyes, which I just knew were overflowing with curiosity, given the silence that followed. “He’s not important now,” I added, just to make a point. And that was the truth. He wasn’t important. He wasn’t… as important. Not as important as how I’d made him out to be throughout my childhood, sitting high on a pedestal. Dear Will, when I look into your eyes, I see the rest of my–

“I notice there’s a bite to the way you talk about him,” my professor noted, and I turned to try and meet her gaze, but she was observing my work thus far. “If he isn’t important now, as you say, he must have been important in the past.”

Who even was this lady? She was the professor of my painting class, yet she was reading me like a therapist would. And I knew by the slight insistence laced in her voice and the way she’d parked herself next to my station that she wasn’t going away until she’d gotten some answers.

“He and I didn’t leave things on the best terms when we left for school,” I admitted, and Dr. Horovitz nodded, processing. I turned away to take a sip from my water bottle as she spoke.

“Ah, now we’re getting somewhere. So he’s an ex boyfriend, then?”

I nearly spit out my water. “God, no,” I said, feeling heat rise to my face at lightning speed. “He… uh, he’s– he was my best friend. Mike.”

“Mm. Best Friend Mike,” she crossed her arms in thought. Suddenly, her eyes snapped over to mine, the eye contact sending chills down my spine. I worried about what she would try to pry out of me next. “He broke your heart, didn’t he?”

Well, shit. She’d been able to see right through me. Maybe I wasn’t as good of a liar as I thought I was. So much for being vague.

“Yeah,” I confessed slowly, watching a smile spread across my professor’s face. Sadist! “Yeah, he did break my heart. And he really messed with my head. But even now, I still believe he’s the best thing to ever happen to me.”

“Well, you’ve covered the topic of the assignment quite well,” she told me, taking a step backwards. “I’m looking forward to seeing your progress.”

“Thank you, ma’am.”

“Will, I told all of you on the first day of class, call me Miriam. None of that old lady business.”

“Sorry, Miriam.”

“You’re forgiven.”

I watched Miriam walk away and begin talking to one of the other students in my class about their piece, and I tried to focus back on my work. But Miriam had gotten me thinking. She had gotten me thinking about one specific day. The day where Mike finally confronted me about the painting.

“Hey, can we talk about something for a second?” Mike asked from across his basement couch. I set my pencil and sketchbook down. He had insisted upon being a model for my potential college portfolio. I didn’t even know if I’d be going to art school at all, but he was so sure that I’d get in somewhere “really fuckin’ cool.” Mike shifted his body out of the position he’d been in for the past hour, and I heard his joints crack as he stretched his long legs out onto my lap. Don’t get a boner, Byers, I thought to myself, repeating it like a mantra in my head.

“Sure,” I croaked out, my voice rough from lack of use. “Uh, are you okay?”

“Yeah,” he said, “I was talking with El yesterday, and I mentioned the commission she’d given you for the painting.” Oh shit. “You know, the one from Spring Break.”

I gulped. “Yeah?”

“It’s kind of funny, actually,” Mike continued, “because El said she had no idea what the word ‘commission’ even meant. Do you know anything about that?”

“I’m not following,” I blurted out in a sad attempt to preserve my own feelings, but Mike knew that I’d never been capable of keeping secrets from him.

“Come on, Will. I know you know what I mean.” He gave me a pointed look and pulled his legs in before scooching closer to my side of the couch, crossing his legs. Our knees touched, and I felt like I was on fire.

I knew then that I’d been caught red-handed. “I was trying to–”

“What, lie to me?” Mike cut me off as he stared down at the carpeted floor. “I thought we didn’t do that.”

“I told you what you needed to hear,” I said, and Mike crossed his arms.

“Yeah, so you lied.”

“I didn’t want to lie, Mike!”

“But you did, Will, and that’s–”

“Just listen, alright?!” I raised my voice, startling Mike into silence. I hated doing that, but it was the only way he’d listen to what I had to say. “Hear me out, okay?” Mike’s lips formed a straight, thin line as he nodded. “I just… I thought if the painting came from El, you’d feel needed again. Like, you told me you felt worthless to her, so I did what I could to try and… fix… that.” Suddenly, Mike’s face was inches from my own, and I could barely breathe. It was probably just my imagination, but I could have sworn I saw Mike’s eyes flicker down to my lips, then back up to meet mine again.

“You know,” Mike breathed, blinking slowly, “It would have meant a lot more if you’d admitted that the painting was from you.”

“Oh,” was the only word I was able to get out.

“Yeah,” Mike said, voice smooth as velvet, “You’re my person, Will.”

“Hey, Will! We– woah.” I hadn’t noticed I’d spaced out until Ivy’s voice hit my ears. I turned to see both her and Hannah gaping at my work.

“Oh! Hey!” I smiled, trying to keep the tone light, “I wasn’t expecting you guys to be–”

“Is that the guy from that photo in your room?” Hannah asked.

“Well… yes,” I admitted, “but he’s not–”

“Bullshit,” Ivy interrupted, her eyes narrowed. “Bullshit to everything you’ve said and are about to say. You’re going to tell us about this boy.”

“Fine. Can I at least wash the paint off my hands first?”

Our D&D Club had a bi-weekly movie night, where we would all go to Kate’s house in our pajamas and eat enough snacks to feed a small army. Both Kate’s and my favorite candy was Reese’s Pieces, so there was always an overabundance of them in her pantry. I shoved my hand into a bag I had rested between my legs, throwing a handful back as if they were a shot of hard liquor. The credits of CLUE were rolling, and Kate spun around from where she sat on the floor wrapped in a giant quilt. She clapped loudly to get our full, undivided attention.

“Okay, so. What are we thinking for Halloween?”

Crickets.

“We need a group costume for the party in two weeks, obviously!” Kate exclaimed, as if this were supposed to be common knowledge. I didn’t think Halloween was a thing anymore. It certainly wasn’t a thing when I was still in Hawkins. “We need one that fits a group of five.”

“We should all be Ghostbusters!” Pete said, but Ivy immediately shot that idea down.

“Too clunky. Plus, the proton packs are gonna be a bitch to make, not to mention difficult to lug around everywhere.”

“She’s right,” I found myself saying, and felt all of my friends’ eyes on me, expecting me to explain myself.

“You’ve dressed as a Ghostbuster before?”

“Yeah,” I nodded, “Back in middle school. My friends and I made proton packs out of vacuum tubes attached to these huge plastic boxes with straps.”

“That’s badass!”

“Well, yeah,” Kate shrugged nonchalantly, “But that also cancels out that option, since Will has done it already.”

“If we take into account every costume everyone has ever done, then there will be no options left,” Pete pointed out, and Kate grimaced.

“That’s fair.”

“What if we did Marvel characters?” Hannah asked, and I shook my head.

“That would put us in the same situation as the Ghostbusters, it’s too complex.”

“Hey, guys.”

“Fine, well, what if we did the Beatles?”

“There are four Beatles, Pete.”

“Oh, yeah.”

“Guys.”

“What about Yoko?”

“Please don’t tell me you just suggested Yoko is the fifth Beatle, Pete.”

“Is she not???”

“I’m gonna pretend you didn’t just ask that.”

“Mötley Crüe?”

“The Runaways,” Pete grinned. “Will and I could go in drag, it’d be so hot.”

Hannah’s eyebrows furrowed. “Why are we suddenly so focused on bands?”

“I don’t know, do you have any doable ideas?” Pete retorted.

“Hey assholes!” Kate snapped.

“What?!” we all shouted back.

“We should be the Mystery Gang.”

“As in Scooby Doo?” I thought out loud.

“That’s a really good idea, actually,” Pete nodded slowly. “It’s classic, people will know who we are, and they won’t perceive us as total rejects!”

“I want to be Velma,” Ivy announced.

“That makes one of us,” Hannah snorted.

“Hey! I’d be a hot Velma!”

“I won’t deny that.”

“I guess I’ll be Fred,” Pete said.

“Will has got to be Shaggy,” Kate giggled, reaching her arm out far enough to run her fingers through and mess up my hair. “I mean, his hair is perfect for it.”

“Yes, oh my God–”

“He’d be the buffest Shaggy I’ve ever seen,” Ivy said, and I whipped my head in her direction.

“Buff? What do you mean, buff?”

“Will, have you seen yourself lately?” Hannah gawked. I had no idea what she meant.

“I mean, yeah, I go to the gym pretty frequently, but like, it’s not like I’ve changed that much…”

“Will, honey,” Ivy sauntered over to where I sat, and crouched down until we were eye level. “We all know that I only have eyes for women, and even I can admit that you are smoking hot.”

“I concur,” Pete said.

“Seriously,” Kate exclaimed, “why hasn’t Will linked up with anyone yet?”

“Okay,” I tried to kill the tangent before it grew legs and ran away, “let’s not discuss my nonexistent love life–”

“Um, excuse me– it did, in fact, exist,” Hannah quipped back. “You just prioritized yourself over someone who treated you like shit.”

“Amen to that,” Ivy said, and everyone else laughed in agreement.

“So I’m gonna ask again: why hasn’t Buff Byers found himself a man yet?”

“Buff Byers,” Pete snorted, “that’s fucking brilliant.”

I put my face in my hands. “Jesus Christ.”

“Let’s be a little more realistic, because I’m pretty sure Jesus wasn’t into guys,” Hannah said, earning a sad laugh from me.

“Are you sure about that?” Ivy questioned her girlfriend, “Because his suspiciously close bond with twelve men shows us otherwise–”

“This is not the time to delve into biblical theology, baby.”

“He let Judas kiss his cheek! You cannot tell me he wasn’t at least a little bit gay.”

Okay, that was enough. “Guys, really,” I insisted, “I’m fine. I don’t need to date anyone right now.”

Pete quirked an eyebrow. “You don’t need to? Or you don’t want to?”

“Alright, everyone,” Kate called out to the rest of us, “so we’ve established that we’re going to this party as the Scooby Gang. But I have a plan in mind that’ll make this Halloween a night to remember.”

“Which is?” I asked warily. Kate couldn’t hide her devilish grin.

“Operation Get Will a Fine-Ass Man.”

I was sure that going to this off-campus Halloween party wasn’t the brightest idea I’d ever had. It wasn’t solely my idea, per se; we had decided upon our group costume weeks ago, and I was fully aware of the environment I was voluntarily entering, so I had plenty of time to back out if I wanted to. Even then, I didn’t back out, because I was obviously a new man; outgoing, social, and bold. I no longer allowed my crippling anxiety to interfere with my life. The latter statement would probably be a bit difficult to justify, though, considering the fact that I had soaked through my fluorescent, vomit-green tee shirt with sweat the second I’d walked through the door. It also didn’t help that my friends were still dead set on a singular mission for the evening: Operation Get Will a Fine-Ass Man. This was a bad idea. A really, really bad–

“Ooh, I spy with my little eye… Jose Cuervo! Come on!” Ivy exclaimed, the corners of her eyes crinkling with joy underneath her fake glasses as she grinned up at me. Oh God, here we go, I thought as I followed my friend over to the center island in the kitchen. Every square inch of counter space was occupied by some form of hard liquor. This was not my first rodeo; I’d gone to a handful of parties back in high school. I enjoyed the atmosphere, but I just wasn’t a party animal, for the lack of a better term.

“Alrighty, one for you… and two for me,” Ivy muttered as she poured her favorite vice, Jose Cuervo tequila, into three disposable red Solo-brand shot cups before handing one over to me, and I took the cup hesitantly. She then grabbed two lime wedges out of a bowl on the kitchen counter, and located a salt shaker a few seconds later. She turned to me, grabbed my free hand, rubbed the lime on it, shook some salt over the spot so it would stick, then did the same for herself. She held one of her shot cups up to mine, clinking them together as a toast.

“Fuck Mike Wheeler!” she shrieked, and I burst out laughing. While I calmed myself down, Ivy licked the salt off her hand, threw the shot back like it was water, chomped down onto the lime, and cringed at the taste. Once she’d opened her eyes and seen that I hadn’t done his shot with her, she pouted up at me.

“You’re supposed to actually do the shot, not just stand there,” she whined. I looked down at the shot, squinting at it before lifting it up, bringing it to my lips. Before I could properly throw the shot back on my own, Ivy tilted the bottom of the cup further upwards, and I felt the tequila rush down my throat much faster than anticipated. “That’s how you do a shot, Billiam,” she told me as I sputtered out a cough, followed by an indignant grunt. I wasn’t mad; I probably wouldn’t have done it without her involvement.

“For as long as I’ve known you, you’ve been so incredibly selfless. You’d do anything to make people happy. But sometimes you do it at your own expense.” Not the time, Mike.

Ivy and I had stayed a few hours late in Miriam’s classroom to finish up our pieces, so we’d all agreed to just meet at the party. When I had set my brush down for the last time earlier that afternoon, I thought to myself, “Hey, I’ve finally achieved the closure I’ve always wanted, so I should feel better.” But I didn’t feel any different; if anything, I felt even worse than before. The Heart gave me closure, but I still felt like Mike was there. So when I arrived back at my dorm to change into my costume, I glanced at the bunched-up blue sweatshirt on my bed and made a decision: It was time to pack up the Mike Box again. I put everything (the dice, the frame, the sweatshirt, and the binder) back into a box and under my bed. Out of sight, out of mind.

“Shaggy! Velma! You made it!” voices exclaimed from behind me. Hannah, Kate, and Pete approached us, dressed as Daphne, Scooby, and Fred, respectively. A smile quickly made its way across my face as I collided with my friends in a group hug. Once they all pulled back, the gossip was instantly afoot.

“So, any luck yet?” Ivy asked her girlfriend, who shook her head.

“Not yet, we just got here a little while ago.”

“I’ve seen a few potential candidates who I think he’d get along with–” Kate began, but Pete interrupted with an expression of pure confusion.

“Sorry, what’s going on?”

“Operation Get Will a Fine-Ass Man! Come on, Pete, get with the program!” Kate clapped her hands in the middle of the circle, and the rest of them laughed while I rolled my eyes. They were being absolutely ridiculous. I didn’t need to get any man, let alone a fine-ass one. I was perfectly fine with being alone. Totally content, and not at all depressed.

The song that had been playing faded out, and a familiar bouncy synth introduction to the next song vibrated up from the floor and sent shockwaves through my entire nervous system. Kate demanded immediately that the group should dance, and the rest of the Scooby Gang agreed, save for me. I didn’t do well on dance floors, because my claustrophobia often got the best of me. So I stood against the wall, watching as my friends disappeared into the crowd. The beat picked up, and I sighed deeply, crossing my arms over my chest. This was the radio cut. If Mike were there, he probably would have complained for hours afterwards.

“Will. I’m being serious! If you know about the existence of the 12” version of Smalltown Boy and still opt to listen to the radio cut, you’re committing a crime against both me and Bronski Beat. I said what I said. No further questions.”

I hated that I couldn’t tell Mike how, for once, I actually agreed with him. He wasn’t here with me, and it was all my fault.

I checked my watch– 8:26pm. We’d only been there for less than half an hour, and I already wanted to go home. There were enough people packed in the house for it to be considered a fire hazard, and my friends were nowhere to be found. So much for Operation Get Will a Fine-Ass Man. Besides, I was dressed as Shaggy from fucking Scooby Doo, there was no way any guy would want me while looking like a disheveled cartoon character. I decided to go outside to get some fresh air, and maybe smoke a cigarette… or five, but right when I began to move, I felt a tap on my shoulder. I turned to see Kate and Ivy, standing on either side of a guy with spiky black hair and chunky black liner under his eyes. The only defining elements of his vampire costume were the fake blood dripping from the corners of his painted red lips and the cape draped over his shoulders.

“Will, Matt. Matt, Will. Speak,” Ivy rushed out, pushing us together by our backs. I watched, stunned, as my friends pushed their way through the crowd, giggling the entire time. I then shifted my gaze to meet eyes with… the very hot guy who stood before me.

Matt.

next part

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#byler #byler fanfic #byler fic #byler tumblr #mike wheeler #will byers #will x mike #mike x will #stranger things #stranger things fic #ntwdt #ntwdt1

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will80sbyers · 1 year

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pls y'all can't seriously think that Mike and El are worse than stanxy when Steve let his friend call Nancy a slut for the whole town to see

Nancy slapped Steve (totally deserved, but still a bit toxic)

and they said what is wrong with you!? and then they broke up not even talking about it properly...

Steve says to her to go to hell

Nancy says to him something like screw you when she's drunk and both them said to the other that they are bullshit

I can't find the gif now but Steve says to her "I think you're bullshit." when they fight the morning after...

and sadly I could even see stxncy happening after years because Steve changed (only if Jonathan dies next season like I think) but Mike and El are so much better than them and their whole mess... even when they are angry with each other they are not like this 😭

anyway, stonathan endgame because if my ship has to fight each other at least make it gay!

#mike wheeler #el hopper byers #Elmike #anti stancy

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madwomansapologist · 2 years

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Being Kryptonian and dating wonderwoman pls

dating Diana Prince as a Kryptonian would include

synopsis: living on this weird planet was a fun and also hard experience, dating a woman who also thinks that as amazing.

note: thanks for your request my love, it was so fun writing for her! hope you like it! (I wrote thinking of the reader being a adult Kryptonian that spend some years on the Phantom Zone)

• Earth wasn't exactly a logical place, at least not for your Kriptonian mind. Most people fear drowing but they don't stop going to swin. All of them fear get burned but then they bath are so hot that their skin get red. Bureaocracy. Humans don't provide food for their equals, even tho they have enough food for every person on the planet. And mosquitoes. Don't even get me started on mosquitoes

• So it was great to meet someone so perplexed with this planet as you. When you meet Wonder Woman you both we’re helping your cousin to defeat a specially irritating villain. It was not a big deal, you both talked for less than five minutes, but it marked the moment we’re she became part of your life

• After that, you both keep on meeting. Sometimes you we’re helping your cousin and she joins, others they we’re helping you, but most of the times Clark come to see you she was around. That made impossible to not learn a little bit more of her, to be interest onto her, to miss her when she is gone

• You tend to talk about how strange that planet was and, different then everyone when you explain your feelings for that new freaky planet, she listened to you. More than that: she thinks the same

• As you both keep on bemping into one another, you felt that you would really like to talk to her out of work. It was fun being around someone that also was trying to understand that planet and was actually really fun to talk to

• She asked you to visit Themyscira, you called her to the Fortress of Solitute, and when you realized Diana was the person you most talk to. One day you would learn that Diana asked Clark to help her into talking to you

• Fighting with her actually is kinda of fun. At the same time you both want to make sure that the other is safe, thats also a lot of showing off your power and strenght. It was almost a flirt and, when you both start dating, it was a provoke

• That new life was difficult for you but she helped. You we're supossed to protect Zor-el and Kara, you we're a adult when Krypton was gone, but you and Kara fell into the Phantom Zone. The thing is that you both spend some time there and now that Clark is a adult, Kara is a new adult and you are pretty sure that you now are younger then him. How was you supossed to train someone who was a peace symbol? What was your porpouse? Diana showed you that all you felt was fine and that you didn't need to worry about porpouse: you could create a new one

• And she would be by your side no matter what you choose

GENERAL TAGLIST: @amournoir @suakemi @notanalienindisguiseblink

if you enjoyed, please reblog! i promise it makes a difference ♡

@ madwomansapologist.tumblr.

#madwomansapologist #wonder woman x y/n #wonder woman x you #wonder woman x reader #wonder woman imagine #dc comics #league of justice #dc imagine #humans are weird #humans are space australians #diana prince #diana prince x reader #diana prince x you #diana prince x y/n #ask box

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jaywhere · 23 days

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hello i thought this would be like 3k and it's not so pls have 8.5k of post-x3 rogue/logan about wanting to fuck b4 u die and having literally one option and it's like, super fucking weird actually.

this would probably be the first chapter of 2, idk ill see what im able to finish today ??? pls enjoy the like optimistically 1-2 of u who decide to click on this lmfao

After three months, Rogue eventually finds him washed up in a storm drain.

The sight of Logan with his head slotted into a gutter would be hilarious if the circumstances weren’t so bleak. A few years ago, she would’ve laughed and taken a photo. The sight may have cracked a smile out of her if she hadn’t been so tired, or even if he hadn’t been so damn hard to track down.

Tragically, Rogue doesn’t have the luxury of smiling. Bags tug at her eyes as she stares down at his face. Even under the flickering yellow light of the streetlamp, she can tell his features are completely unchanged, even after five years. His shoulder is bent at an odd angle, white muscle shirt completely soaked through. A thin stream of blood meanders down his temple and into the muddy runoff below.

“Guess that’s to be expected.” Rogue wipes the blood away with leather-gloved fingers.

He’ll wake up soon. The streets are completely deserted at this time of night — almost two in the morning on a Wednesday. No one to call the cops. Beneath the flickering light, the shadows cast by his features appear to lengthen before retreating again.

He’s handsome, at least. Moreso than Rogue remembers, and perhaps far more than deserved given the context. A coil of guilt curls up in her belly.

“Already come this far,” Rogue mutters. With a grunt, she stands, damp ends of her floor-length coat clinging uncomfortably to her ankles. She grabs Logan’s leg above muddy, torn-up boots. His leg hair rustles against her gloved fingers. “No use givin’ up now.”

It’s still drizzling. Ice-cold pricks of rain start to soak her back as she attempts to pull Logan out of the gutter. It seems undignified to leave him there, given what she’s about to ask him to do. Her lower back throbs in protest.

“The hell — whadya weigh, three hundred pounds?” The flickering lights are starting to make her head throb. Runoff trickles past her heeled boots with a soft hiss. When she tugs a final time, her heels slip right out from underneath her.

A frustrated scream leaves her lips before she can stop it. Her ass soaked with muddy rainwater and her hip throbbing from where it’d clipped the curb, she storms back up to Logan’s head and rips off her glove.

His coarse stubble on her fingertips is electrifying. His essence floods her through her along that thin contact of skin on skin. The taste of cheap beer, burn of cigarette smoke in her lungs, knuckles aching after a well-thrown punch, a loneliness that gnaws at the tattered edges of his soul. Virility floods through her.

She counts up to five, taking in slow measured breaths. The glove goes back on as soon as she’s done, leather squeezing tightly at her fingers.

Her back doesn’t hurt.

“Okay, darlin’. Let’s go.” Rogue tosses her hair over her shoulder before scooping Logan up. With her arms under his back and his knees, he’d almost look like a princess — if it weren’t for the way his mouth hung open, head flopping limply over her arm.

Mud and all, she tosses him into the front seat.

“Whew!” Rogue grabs a towel out of the trunk. Wipes off her gloves, her face, and strips off her coat before tossing everything back into the trunk. “I could get used to that. Wow.”

The car’s engine rumbles to life. A thick drizzle coats the windshield. She flips the wipers on and stares out at the little wavering asphalt. The gas station, tattoo shop, and convenience store on this side of the street are all closed. The only sign of life is the bar at the end of the road. Up on the sign, El Apocalipsis is scrawled in yellow neon.

Rogue snorts. “Don’t need a translator to figure out that one, do ya?” She leans over, tapping aggressively at Logan’s cheek. “Wake up, sleepyhead. Gotta tell me where to take ya.”

He doesn’t respond. The seconds tick by. The memory of unfamiliar lips gliding against her own spirals through her mind. She chases it like a feather in the wind — flash of red, the scrape of her stubble against soft cheeks — before it’s gone completely. The windshield is almost completely obscured when she looks back.

“Logan.” She taps his cheek again, harder this time. The sound of leather on skin fills the car. She’d probably stalled his healing when she touched him. A violent frustration fills the empty spaces around her heart. “Wake up.”

This time, dazed eyes flutter open. Pupils the size of saucers stare back at her. Dry lips part. Rogue can’t stop herself from grinning.

“Found ya,” she says. Hadn’t been an easy task, either. Folks a lot smarter than her had been chasing him for years. But Rogue was nothing if not determined. “Where’s home, darlin’?”

Logan blinks. He lurches forward, smashing his hand into the airbag. Rogue shushes him, but doesn’t get too close. Terror, panic, the give of a delicate neck under her broad palms; the sensation of a needle digging into the nook of her elbow. Rogue had learned that one the hard way.

With furrowed eyebrows, Logan’s gaze finally fixes on her. “Kid?”

The smile’s wiped off her face in an instant.

“I’m twenty-six.” She pushes in the clutch and shifts into first with a double thunk. Some part of her hopes Logan notices that she drives stick. “Not a kid.”

Logan stares out the windshield. His chest is heaving with panic. “Where — ?”

“You’re drunk,” Rogue answers. This isn’t going to go well. She can feel it in her bones. But drastic times call for drastic measures. “Pulled you outta the gutter. Where’s home?”

His beard hasn’t been shaved in days. The smell of sweat, beer, and smoke fills up the car. She presses her lips together and tries to cast her own motivations in piecemeal. Sixty percent pathetic desperation, thirty-five percent fear of her own impending death, five percent the nostalgic memory of her schoolgirl crush. Those had been simpler times.

“Truck — “ He wipes at his face, muddy rainwater dripping onto his palm. He turns to look out the back window. “Truck’s about two miles down the road.”

“Cool,” Rogue says. This isn’t going to go over well. It can’t go over well. The car swings in a wide U-turn. At least Logan had been walking in the correct direction when he’d collapsed in the middle of the road.

She drives slow. Logan stares at her, then out the window, then down at his own hands. She wonders if he can feel that she sapped away just a little bit of him. When she reaches, the embers of him are still alive in the back of her mind. A flash of claws sinking through skin, fat, guts, spine shocks her like a jolt of electricity.

And then he’s gone completely.

Silence sets in. Rogue gnaws on her own bottom lip.

“What are you doing here?”

She doesn’t take her eyes off the road. Logan had set up in the middle of nowhere. Water clouds the headlights like dust.

“Um,” Rogue says. She’d imagined this a thousand times. Distracted, driving in the rain, while Logan is drunk had never been one of those scenarios. Lying doesn’t sit right with her, either. “Got somethin’ to ask ya.”

More silence. The wheels churn against broken asphalt.

“Okay.” Logan’s staring at her, expectant.

She coughs. “Best wait until — um, until we get there.”

Another long few beats. Rogue’s heartbeat pounds in her ears.

“Get where?” Logan eventually asks. Rogue pulls off the road, tires scuttling over gravel. The trailer sits demurely behind a cluster of trees. “Oh. Right.”

“And you probably need to sober up, first.”

“Right.” Logan pauses. He stares at her. Even damp, his hair still twists up into little points atop his head. His head bobs up and down five times, lips twitching around a few unrecognizable words. “You’re twenty-six.”

Rogue pulls the keys from the ignition. He’s still staring, waiting for a response. “Yeah?”

His tongue on his lips. Sparse mustache stubble gives way to a thicket of beard on his chin. Rogue wonders if it’s rough on his tongue.

“Why’d you get on the train?”

Rogue squints, wrinkling her nose. It takes her a second to realize what Logan’s asking her.

“Oh.” The realization dawns on her quickly. She still has dreams, sometimes — not so much about the metal cutting through her, but about the horror-struck look on Logan’s face as he’d realized what he’d done. And then the way she’d sucked his full brown eyes completely dry. How she’d left him empty and vacant. “I, um — I almost killed you.”

“How.”

The look he gives her is heavy. Rogue can feel her eyes go shiny with unshed tears. This is humiliating. Her fingers tremble as she grips the wheel, but her voice remains steady.

“I was. You stabbed me. I grabbed you.” Her lungs burn when she breathes in, long and slow. “You were havin’ a nightmare.”

Logan’s fingers pry hers off the steering wheel. The warmth doesn’t soak through the leather.

“Sorry,” he says. “Just had to make sure.”

Rogue nods. She wipes at her eyes. It’s not the memory that’s got her tearing up, but the anxiety twisting that twists in her gut. She hasn’t seen Logan in years. No one has — not really. But the memories of him aren’t going to feel the same after this.

With rain pattering against the ceiling, she squeezes back.

“You wanna come in? Not much, but…” He trails off.

It occurs to Rogue that Logan may not love her anymore. Perhaps now, or perhaps after she tells him why she’s there. With a bit of force, she pulls her own hand away.

“Sure,” she says, cracking open the car door. “That’d probably be best.”

—

“I’d always imagined you livin’ in the mountains.” The trailer’s small, one chair, table about the length of her forearm, a few cabinets, and mattress covered in a threadbare gray sheet. “Livin’ in some li’l cabin. Happier than a pig in poop.”

Logan’s crouched at the edge of the mattress, arms clasped around his knees. “You get more southern since the last time I saw you?”

A smile tugs at the edge of her lips. “I’ve been leanin’ into it. Kinda my thing, now.”

Logan grunts. He pulls out a cigar. “Last one,” he says, shoving it between his lips.

Rogue presses her lips together. “You might,” she starts, as Logan pulls out a lighter. “You might wanna save that.”

His gaze flicks from her, down to the lighter, then back again. “Okay.” He tosses the cigar onto the cluttered countertop next to the sink. “What’re you here for, then?”

His voice is rough. A shiver rattles down Rogue’s spine. She squeezes her own palms between two bony knees, making eye contact with the floor.

“Must be serious.” The tip of his boot taps against the barren floor. It’s not just limited to the floor, Rogue realizes as she tries to look anywhere except at Logan. Dirty plates in the sink, a knife sitting on the windowsill by her arm. Nothing that could be called decoration. It makes her a little sad. “You’ve been followin’ me for a few months.”

Surprise snaps her gaze back up to Logan. “You knew?”

“Knew it was someone.” He leans back onto the heels of his palms. “Didn’t think it’d be you.”

“Oh,” Rogue says. She wonders if he’s happy to see her, or unhappy. If he would’ve stopped if he’d known. If he isn’t thinking anything because he’s still drunk. “Right, yeah. Probably weren’t plannin’ on seein’ me anytime soon.”

Rogue’s heart pounds in her ears. The silence stretches, tugging uncomfortably at her guts.

“You gotta give me somethin’, kid.”

She visibly flinches. “Oh, please don’t call me that.”

Rough leans forward, hiding her face in her hands. From between the cracks in her fingers, she barely catches the way Logan raises his palms up.

“Fine, fine. I get it, you’re not a kid anymore.”

“Just gonna make this harder.”

She breathes out, slow and controlled. She’d been practicing. Same stuff Logan had tried to teach her all those years ago that she’d never taken too seriously. Expectantly, Logan waits.

“Sorry,” she whispers. “I’m nervous.”

Rogue had tried this conversation every which way in her mind. Had practiced in front of the mirror. Every intro flips past like a flashcard: I’m sorry I’m asking this, I promise this isn’t about some boy, I’ve missed you, I understand if your answer is no, I can just pretend this never happened if you say no, I know this is inappropriate, but…

What comes out of her mouth is, “The world is looking really not good, Logan.”

She stares at him. Scruffy, handsome, unspeakably sad. When he sighs, bowing his head, she catches a glimpse of the nightstand behind him. A pair of glasses and a little bird sit under the lamp, both cast in red. Her heart aches.

“I’m not fightin’ anyone,” Logan sighs. “I love ya. But I’m done with that. As much as I can be.”

Rogue’s mouth goes dry. “No, no, um. It’s more. It’s personal.” Heart racing, sweat squeezing out of her pores. “Can you just — I just want ya to know I’m sorry that I’m even bringin’ this up. I know — I know that you just wanna be left alone. Which is fine. And I’m honestly feelin’ like a complete yellow-belly right about now, but I came all this way, so I guess I can’t just not ask, or — I mean I could, but…”

The knot in her throat swells up. She wants to cry. Logan growls in annoyance.

“Spit it out.”

Rogue bites into her lower lip. She stares down at her own black boots, scuffed at the tip. The visions that she’d played with, alone in bed in the dead of night, wherein Logan holds her hand, squeezes her shoulders, and lets her rest her head on his chest, feel ridiculous in hindsight. The fantasy that he might even like what she’s about to ask him feels completely childish.

“Um,” Rogue says. Stubbornly, she forces herself to look him in the eye. “I wanna have sex before I die.”

Rain drizzles onto the window. The seconds tick by. Logan stares at her, confused. It takes Rogue a long moment to realize that the complete lack of response means he probably hadn’t understood her in the first place. Humiliation flushes her cheeks bright red.

“Okay,” Logan says. He stands up and digs a plastic cup out of one of the cabinets. “And what, you need my permission?”

Logan turns to her, raising an eyebrow as he holds out the cup. Rogue shakes her head no.

The tap twists on. Rogue watches as he fills the cup, the bare remnants of a logo nearly scratched off the sides. His throat bobs as he swallows, a thin stream of water meandering from the corner of his lip and into unkempt facial hair. Rogue’s jaw flops up and down like a fish.

“No, I mean — with you.”

He chokes. Water backsplashes into the cup. More spills from his mouth, dribbling onto his already-damp shirt. Rogue can’t help but flinch.

“Ha. Ha.” He slams the cup down on his counter. The look he shoots her is genuinely terrifying. “Very funny.”

This may be the worst decision Rogue has ever made.

“I’m not joking?” She doesn’t mean for the words to upturn with hesitation. Biting into her own tongue, she wishes she’d gone for sarcastic, instead. Sitting there quietly, silently begging for his approval, can’t possibly be helping. She leans back, squares her shoulders, and tries again. “I’m not joking.”

Logan’s staring at her like she’s grown a second head.

Raindrops tap on the window. Rogue bites into her own lip, tilting her chin up as she holds Logan’s befuddled gaze. No going back now.

“Why?” Logan asks. His gaze flicks down to Rogue’s gloved hands, her turtleneck, down the length of her gloved legs. “I thought you…”

Lips pressed into a thin line, Rogue nods. “The cure. Yeah. Got about three months outta that.” She laughs, the sound dry and humorless. The look Logan gives her is unreadable. “Hell in a damn handbasket, that was. Don’t know about the others, but when my powers came back — it was like I was a teenager again. Lost all the progress I’d made before.”

She remembers the way Bobby’s lips had gone stiff under hers. The agonizing seconds that had ticked by, chills running down her spine, before she’d realized what was happening. Sobbing uncontrollably over his bed in the basement infirmary. By the time he’d woken up, nearly two months later, the last vestiges of him had finally been fading from her mind.

Rogue had been the one to break up with him. At least another month of crying had followed. The conversation had barely even been necessary — just formalizing what they both had already known.

“I’m sorry,” Logan says.

She’s staring at the floor again. Logan’s wet shoes stare back at her. She had never spoken aloud any of the things she’d learned about Bobby from the facsimile of his consciousness floating in the back of her mind. She’d kept it to herself, even when he started dating Kitty a few months later. The secrets tucked away in the corners of Bobby’s mind weren’t things she was ever supposed to know. They were just a few unspoken bullet points at the end of a long list of Rogue’s regrets.

“Thanks,” Rogue says. “It’s not — it’s not fine, but I’ve made my peace with it.”

Slowly, he crouches down. Ever so slowly, he’s dripping onto the floor.

“Marie,” he says. His voice is rough and steady, painfully serious. Once again, Rogue flinches.

“No, don’t call me that.”

A laugh. “Okay, Rogue.” He holds his hand out. Gently, she places her fingers into his. The leather of her gloves squeaks as he squeezes her. “I hear what you’re saying. And I get what it’s like to be lonely.”

Guilt bubbles up in the pit of Rogue’s gut. He doesn’t need to say that part.

“But you’re young. You’re gonna find someone. You don’t need — ”

Silently, she shakes her head. “It’s not about finding someone, Logan. I’ve found plenty of guys. It’s about not killing ‘em.”

More silence follows. Rogue’s hand is shaking in his.

“I mean. You don’t have to touch someone to — “

Her gaze snaps up to his. Sarcasm spills out of her. “Logan,” she says. At least he has the decency to look sheepish. “Don’t gimme that. It’s not the same. And you know it.”

“It’s not a good idea.”

Frustration overtakes her. “You think I don’t know that? Logan, this is fucking humiliating!” She rips her fingers out of his, scowling at the look of surprise that flashes across his face. “I’m an adult. I say fuck now. Don’t act so shocked.”

The corners of Logan’s lips twitch as if resisting a smile. “You were an adult the last time I saw you, too.”

She remembers. Logan had stood with her at the entrance. She’d almost wanted him to tell her to stay, to tell her how to think. Instead, he’d trusted her to make her own decision.

“I know,” she says. Abruptly, she stands up. Squished up against the cabinets behind him, Logan quickly follows suit. “I’m an adult. So I can make my own decision. And you can say no, if you want. But I’m asking.”

He’s over a head taller than her. Chest to chest, Rogue finds herself tracing out the throb of his pulse as it wanders up his throat. Logan doesn’t say anything.

“Which is — I wanna have sex. With you.” When Rogue’s gaze flicks up, Logan’s peering down at her like a hawk would a mouse. She quickly averts her gaze. “So I don’t die a virgin.”

“You’re not gonna die,” Logan growls. His hands jerk up like he’s going to grab her by the shoulders. Then they stop, falling back to his sides. “Soon. You got time.”

Rogue snorts. “Dunno how much you’ve been payin’ attention, bud, but things aren’t goin’ too well out there. People die every day.”

At the Professor’s funeral, she’d never imagined the following years of her life would be characterized primarily by a series of battles. His headstone had been accompanied in quick succession by Scott’s, and Jean’s. She’d thought the whole affair had been a life-shattering low point. In reality, it had just been foreshadowing.

“I’m not comin’ back,” Logan hisses.

Rogue scowls. She crowds into him, two hands pushing hard on his chest until the cabinets behind him stop the movement. “I’m not asking you to.”

He won’t look at her. She doesn’t know it’s guilt or shame or just plain embarrassment, but in the moment she doesn’t particularly care. A rabid sort of desperation knots her fingers up in the damp fabric of his shirt.

“I just want you to fuck me.” Up on her toes, her mouth hovers only an inch from his chin. So close, but not yet touching. “So I don’t die without knowing what it feels like.”

The warmth of his palms soaks through the thin fabric of her sleeves. To Rogue’s chagrin, he only pushes her away.

“Listen to me,” Logan says. He looks her dead in the eye. Shame makes Rogue’s shoulders curl in on themselves. She’d thought that this many years later, with the curse of an even more extensive library of hurt and grief behind her, Logan wouldn’t make her feel so small anymore. “You do not want that.”

A flash of anger sends Rogue’s fist thumping lightly into his chest. He looks down at her leather-gloved hand, confused.

“Fuck you,” she hisses. She’d been able to taste Remy’s fear every time they kissed, counting down from ten like some perverted version of stop-and-go. “You don’t know what the hell I want.”

Deadpan, Logan meets her eyes. He even bends down just a little so they’re closer to eye level. Rogue wants to slap him.

“You don’t know what you’re signing up for.”

He squeezes her shoulders tightly. She bites her tongue, clenches her fists, and tries to keep her anger in check. It isn’t until she does that it finally occurs to her: at no point during this conversation had he said no.

“Stop trying to convince me to back off.” A strand of white hair swings between them on a pendulum. “I left the others for this. For three months. Dunno how many of my friends are dead now, or if I could’ve saved them if I wasn’t here. I knew that, and I know that now, and I’m here anyways. Because I want this once before I die. So just tell me yes or no.”

Logan is silent. Rogue wants to kill him — as if that’s even really possible.

“Or ask me a fuckin’ question or something. Anything.”

A sigh. “I dunno.”

It’s strange, the way her lips quirk into a grin. “That’s not a no,” she points out.

Logan says nothing. He looks conflicted. Later, she’ll feel guilty — but for the moment, she has to fight not to stamp her feet in glee.

“I’ll just — m’gonna sleep on it.”

He leans forward. It’s just an inch or so, but enough for Rogue to understand that he wants her to step back.

She doesn’t. Instead, she wraps her arms around his chest and squeezes him. He’s damp and warm, chest expanding beneath her cheek as she breathes in. “Thank you,” she says. “For thinking about it.”

“You’re — I’m not gonna say you’re welcome.” Slowly, Logan hugs her back. He smells like sweat. “This is weird.”

With a grin, Rogue replies, “Don’t care.”

—

The next morning, she wakes up to the sound of metal clinking and whispered swearing.

Humidity sticks to her cheeks. The stale, earthy smell of smoke clogs her sinuses. Pinpricks of light shine through a canvass of burgundy. Her back aches from the sunken spot in the middle of the mattress where the springs had long since collapsed.

In one swift motion, she sits up. Long strands of dark hair tickle her shoulders. The blankets fall from around her face, caress the bare skin of her arms, and finally pool in her lap. Logan’s already staring at her, tin mug clutched in his hand. The coffee pot spits and bubbles.

“Sorry. Was tryna…” He pauses, gaze flicking down from Rogue’s face. He turns back to the counter and clears his throat. “Was tryna be quiet.”

Her brain still fuzzy with sleep, Rogue absentmindedly digs her fingers into the stiff muscles in her shoulder. Her palm drops a moment later, tip of one finger catching in the hem of her sports bra. She blinks, remembering all at once that she’d slept in her underwear last night. Her wet clothes are hanging in the shower.

Logan still won’t look at her. When she glances down at herself, her nipples are visible through the thin fabric. She resists the urge to roll her eyes.

With a yawn, Rogue stretches. “Logan?” she asks.

“Hm?” He’s staring at the counter. Trying and failing to act normal. It pisses her off — just a little. It’s hard to imagine Logan acting this way with any other woman. Maybe his mother, or his sister. If he even has either of those.

“Could you grab my duffel? Should be in the backseat.”

Rogue stands, stretching. She turns her back to Logan and spends a long, leisurely moment with her back arched and arms stretched above her head. Trying to give him permission to look. Perhaps it’s selfish of her, but she wants him to think she’s beautiful. More than that, she wants to be able to tempt him.

When she finally bends to pick up her keys from the bedside table, she’s careful not to disturb the shades or the little bird. She turns quickly, lobbing the fob in Logan’s direction. He catches them in the center of his palm even though his gaze stays fixed on the countertop.

Rogue tilts her head. She wonders how good his peripheral vision really is.

“Got it.”

He practically runs out the door. Maybe she should lay off. Give him some space. She had been his student. They’d met when she was seventeen. He’d done his best, for at least a couple of years, to step into the gaping hole the separation from her parents had left. That’s not the kind of relationship that time or distance washes away. Rogue knows, as much as she might want to, she can’t just wish it away.

Crouching down next to the side table, she fixes Logan’s mementos in her sight. If she’s being honest, she doesn’t want her relationship with Logan to change. Suspects he doesn’t want that, either. The sun reflects off red lenses. She knows they aren’t Scott’s real glasses — the coating isn’t nearly opaque enough, and the Ray-Ban logo on the side is an obvious giveaway. And the little red bird — a Robin, Rogue thinks — doesn’t seem like something Jean would ever have owned. They’re just tokens. Reminders.

Logan doesn’t want to forget. She understands.

The door creaks open, followed closely by the thump of her bag onto the floor. Rogue turns. Logan’s pulling the carafe out from the machine.

“Coffee?” he asks. “Black’s the only option.”

The smell makes Rogue’s mouth water. She unzips her bag. “Yes, please.”

Logan had insisted that she take the little twin mattress and Logan would sleep in the truck. Rogue had protested — she could sleep in her car, or curl up in the little chair by the table if that was too cold. Logan had muttered that he wasn’t gonna be sleepin’ much, anyway, before leaving the camper. The door had slammed behind him.

The process of getting dressed is always somewhat elaborate for Rogue. Briefly, she considers changing her underwear, but — Logan would probably just book it again.

Her shirt goes on first, thumbs hooked through the holes at the end. Collar rolled up to her jaw. Thin tights from her toes up to her knees, then jeans over that. The billowy ends of her shirt get tucked in. Tighten her belt to keep everything together. She pulls on a pair of ankle socks. Then, finally, she slides on her gloves.

Logan is watching her now. He leans against the counter, sipping his coffee. She re-packs her bag until only her clear makeup bag is left. It sits in her lap for a moment before she raises it up to her chest.

“Am I using this?” she asks.

Logan stares. “Huh?”

She huffs. “It’s makeup, darlin’.”

“I know what it is.”

Rogue puts a hand on her hip. “Great. So, am I wearin’ some?” When she doesn’t immediately receive a response, she continues. “Because I don’t need to get dolled up to enjoy the company of my Honda Civic.”

Logan’s jaw is tight. He continues sipping at his coffee anyways. “You don’t need to do anything on my account.”

“Logan.” Rogue glares. She snatches up her hairbrush, running it through the length of her hair a few times. It feels like he’s playing games with her. “Are we fucking or not?”

He manages to keep the drink in his mouth this time. Only coughs, setting the mug down onto the countertop. This time, Rogue actually allows herself a quiet snicker.

“Just — “ Logan sighs, rubbing at his face. He points at the chair. “Come sit down.”

She does, but not before grabbing her coffee cup. She lets her shoulder brush up against him and swears she feels him shiver.

The single chair creaks underneath her. She stares up at Logan and tries to hold onto her own confidence. This is going to work, she tells herself. There’s no way she came all this way for nothing. Logan had always been a softie.

“This isn’t because of some boy.”

The question makes Rogue laugh. It isn’t even phrased as a question, she realizes, but it sounds just like something Logan would’ve said to her years ago. “No,” she says, tucking her hair behind her ear. “I haven’t been with anyone in three years.”

Logan nods. “The cure,” he starts. It occurs to Rogue that he’d probably spent last night coming up with the questions, preparing to rattle down the list. The thought makes her want to roll her eyes. “Know it’s hard to get now, but you could — “

“It only works once,” Rogue says. The coffee is so acidic it makes her salivary glands seize up. She swallows anyways. “I’ve tried. And don’t even think of saying anything about the fact that I didn’t take advantage of the opportunity. I know.”

In fact, she’d tried. She’d held hands with Bobby every day, kissed him at every opportunity, told him she was ready. Rogue had wanted to live her life. At the time, she’d attributed Bobby’s reluctance to the fact that they had all the time in the world. Rogue had thought that she was rushing things. She wouldn’t find out otherwise until she nearly killed him.

Logan hesitates before delivering the next question. Rogue is grateful for the moment to try and counsel herself out of her own bitterness. It’s not like Bobby had known those few months would be her only chance.

“Have you actually tried to make this work. With some guy who’s not…” Logan trails off, gesturing wordlessly.

Rogue fills in the blanks. Somehow, leaving it unspoken is worse. “My former teacher? And lowkey father figure?”

As soon as the words leave her mouth, she immediately changes her mind.

Logan defates like a balloon. His lips form a thin line. “Yeah?” he says.

Buying time, Rogue takes another sip of her coffee. She pretends, desperately, that this isn’t weird. “What do you mean, make it work?”

Logan’s face is red. From his nose to the tips of his ears. It won’t be until a long while later that she’ll recall this moment and understands the way Logan forges ahead as a testament to how much he loves her. In the moment, she’s just mortified.

“You understand that you can. Like the — Jesus fuckin’ Christ. You know what a condom is, right?”

Initially, Rogue wants to ask Logan if he’s stupid. Instead, she lets the question hang for a long moment. Takes another sip of bitter coffee. “They never let you teach sex ed, did they?”

“God, no.”

More coffee. It almost overpowers her own bitterness.

“That’s good. Yes, Logan. I know what a condom is. It doesn’t work like that.” Briefly, she considers going into detail: exactly what parts of a man’s body covers, the humiliation of attempting to expose only the most intimate parts of herself, the way fabric or latex would shift between two moving bodies. She keeps her mouth shut and spares both of them. “Are we done with the fifth degree, now?”

Embarrassment stains her cheeks. Logan isn’t faring much better.

“I just — I need to ask. I know you’re smart. You just gotta let me ask.”

His knuckles are white where he grips the countertop. She tries to keep a lid on her own excitement as she processes Logan’s words. Briefly, she imagines what it would feel like to have those broad palms wrapped tightly around her hips.

“Fine,” she says. Another sip of coffee. Logan seems to have completely given up on his.

He takes in a deep breath. “This isn’t some — “ he starts, before giving up. She’s can’t recall ever seeing him look this nervous. “If we do this. After, we’re gonna pretend it never happened.”

The if is spoken quietly. Rogue feels her pulse quicken. “Obviously.”

Logan’s tongue is pink on his lips. “You can’t come back with feelings later.”

Rogue narrows her eyes. The mug sits defensively in front of her mouth. “You can’t come back with feelings later.”

Silently, Logan’s thick eyebrows furrow in doubt.

“Now you see how ridiculous that sounds.”

This is not, apparently, the response that Logan is hoping for. He crosses his arms, expression shifting from an open anxiety to stern disapproval. The kind of look a teacher gives a student. Rogue’s heart drops into her ass.

“I’m not an idiot. I know you had a crush on me.”

She bites her lip. “When I was eighteen. You were my — you saved my life. Multiple times, depending on how you look at it. And even without that, it would’ve been normal. At that age.”

She sounds defensive. Panic snakes through her veins.

“And that’s not why you’re doing this now.”

She sets the half-empty mug down on the table. A fat drop of coffee sloshes over the edge and streams down the side. Embarrassing honesty time, she supposes.

“Logan,” Rogue says. “I’m a person. I know you’re hot. And obviously the fact that you saved my life, and were nice to me, and looked out for me, and gave a shit about me when I was a kid makes me like you more. But it also makes this exponentially more weird. This is weird. I’m embarrassed. If I had literally any other options, I would take them.”

The urge to cry takes her by surprise. She wants to whisper to herself that it’s not a big deal. She wants to walk out the door of Logan’s little trailer, get in her car, and never come back. She wants for the first time she runs into him to be a few years from now, when mutants can live safely, when he’s come to terms with the state of the world, when she’s unlocked the key to controlling her abilities that the Professor had always assured her must be locked away inside her somewhere.

Rogue wants that future. The one where she could hug him and thank him for always believing in her. They could drink a beer and remember the good old days. But she knows by even asking, she’s ruined that — let alone if she actually survives the next few years.

“It’s like — it’s not the romance. Or the loneliness.“ She starts talking without Logan even asking for more. She doesn’t even look at him. “Like, I’ve had romance. It’s nice, you know, but it’s kind of hard to lose yourself in that when you know they’re always afraid you’re gonna kill ‘em. And then, like, you’d think it was about the orgasms, at least, but — “

Tears cling to leather-tipped fingers as she swipes them under her eyes. As mortified as she feels, Logan stays serious. She laughs.

“I know how to get myself off. Very well, thank you. It’s literally just the experience. Like, I don’t feel like I have to. I don’t feel like I’m incomplete without it.” She sniffs, loudly. All at once, she’s grateful she hadn’t put any makeup on. “Life just fucking sucks, you know? I just wanna get laid once before I die. Without bein’ afraid I’m gonna send some poor fuck to an early grave.”

Rogue feels sick. She stares down at the table, unable to bring herself to look at Logan. She’d managed to hold it together last night. It’s mortifying, how much she cares about this. It feels almost like she’s guilt-tripping Logan, one of the only people in the world who could ever give her this, except for the fact that the tears that fall down her cheeks are completely genuine.

She’d given up on casual intimacy, then on dating entirely. Giving up on having sex shouldn’t be the hardest part. Perhaps it’s that part of her feels like Bobby stole her one opportunity to have this. Or perhaps it’s just symbolic — one last sacrifice in a long line of sacrifices.

Pathetically, Rogue sniffles. Logan remains silent. She wipes at her own tears. Logan must think of her as even more of a child, now. Crying over the idea of being rejected. Unable to deal with the reality of disappointment. A sharp flare of indignation lashes at her tongue.

“Dude, if you don’t want to do it, you don’t have to search for some excuse!” When she finally glances up, Logan’s expression is much softer than she had imagined it would be. A sage kind of sadness crinkles the corners of his eyes. “You can just say if you don’t want to. I get if it’s too weird, or you’re not attracted to me, or taking some sad girl’s virginity just — sounds like a bummer! It’s fine. Just tell me — “

“Stop.”

Rogue does.

Logan drops to his knees in front of her. He pulls her hands away from her face. A protest rises and quickly dies when she sees his thumb approaching. Muddy, unrefined empathy sloshes across the open connection between them. The dull ache in her back fades.

His presence lingers even as he pulls his thumb away, slick with her tears.

“Not good with words,” he says. The warmth of his fondness radiates through her like a hug. As it fades, Rogue squeezes her own elbows, desperate for more. “You get it?”

She nods.

Logan’s thumbs are damp on the inside of her knees. “There are conditions,” he says. “If we’re gonna do this, we’re gonna do it my way.”

Rogue sniffles. Logan reaches over her and places a small stack of napkins next to her elbow. Humiliated, she blows her nose.

“Kinda selfish, isn’t it?” She’s trying to joke.

Logan glares at her.

“I mean, how many times have you had sex? A few hundred?”

His eyebrows raise, lips quirking up. “Try thousands.”

It’s funny, at least a little. Rogue doesn’t know why, but the thought makes another sob shake through her. “You motherfucker,” she hisses, laughing at herself even as tears spill over her lashline. “I should call you a slut or somethin’, but hell if I’m not jealous.”

Logan actually laughs this time. His thumb traces out little circles on the inside of her knee. “Just means I know what I’m doing.”

“Yeah, regular cock in the henhouse.” Rogue rolls her eyes and ignores the confused look Logan gives her. She wipes her nose again. “What’re the conditions?”

Logan clears his throat. “Well, I gotta be gone by tomorrow morning. So we’re gonna do it today.” He leans back, scratching at the back of his neck. There’s something strangely endearing about how hard he’s thinking. “I can’t really take you anywhere.”

He doesn’t have to elaborate. Rogue already knows. Mutants are safe these days, and Rogue doesn’t quite blend in. Instead, she asks, “Why would you need to take me anywhere.”

A flicker of frustration flashes in the quirk of Logan’s lips. “It’s your first time. Gonna feed you first. At bare minimum.”

Rogue can’t help but laugh. “I’m sorry, what happened to no romance?” Logan looks at her like she’s stupid. Maybe she is. Blithely, she decides she doesn’t care. “Or do you always take your floozies out to dinner before you let ‘em take a ride?”

She keeps cackling even as Logan continues to glare at her. “‘S’not romance. It’s common decency.”

“Whatever you say, sugar.” She raises her hands. “Your choice. I don’t care ‘bout that part.”

“What part do you care about?” Rogue frowns in confusion. “What — I mean, is there anything that you wanna do?”

“Oh,” Rogue says. Logan’s sitting on the floor now, embracing the absurdity of the situation. She lets herself admire him. The curvature of his chest, bulge of his arm muscles, way his waist narrows down so thin it almost looks delicate. She’d be lying if she said she wasn’t attracted to him. Hadn’t thought about it, plenty of times before. She wouldn’t be here, otherwise. “I want you to be on top.”

Logan’s jaw drops. It only takes him a second to get his composure back, teeth clicking shut, but the initial shock had been impossible to miss. “That is not a good idea.”

She frowns. “Why not? That’s, like, the most normal way to have sex. The guy goes on top.”

Rogue knows this because she’s seen it in movies, primarily. She only realizes the words sound ridiculously uncouth as they come out of her mouth. Thankfully, Logan completely ignores that. “Because if I pass out, I weigh three hundred pounds. You’re not gonna be able to get me off.”

“I will,” Rogue laughs. She watches the gears turn in Logan’s head. “Get your mind outta the gutter. You forgot how my powers work. How do you think I got you in my car?”

Logan freezes. “Oh,” he says. “That does — yeah, that does make sense. Okay.” He stands, remarking almost absentmindedly to himself, “I mean, you’re only gonna do it once, might as well do it every which way, right?”

The comment catches her completely off-guard. Rogue imagines herself perched atop Logan’s lap, bent over like a dog in front of him, her back pressed up against the windows, her legs wrapped around his hips while he —

A broad, bare palm in front of her face. “Touch me.”

“Huh?” Rogue asks.

Logan wiggles his fingers. “Gotta know how much I can take. Come on.”

“Oh,” she says. She starts to peel off her glove. “Most people can take about twenty seconds before they pass out. Thirty seconds before they — well. It’s bad.”

She hesitates. Her fingers hover over his.

“I’m not most people.”

Logan doesn’t hesitate as he interlocks their fingers. He barely even reacts, the veins on his forehead throbbing as the connection flies open like a floodgate. She sees herself through Logan’s eyes, feels herself try to focus on the counter backsplash only to find her attention drawn right back to the one place she’s trying to avoid. The fabric of her green sports bra stretches over her chest as she arches, replaced by her own narrow waist, long legs, heart-shaped ass when she turns. She bites into her lip, cock twitching as she tears her gaze away.

A smile cracks across Rogue’s lips. With Logan flooding her mind, she dives deeper.

In the recesses between her blinks, she sees visions of herself. Beneath him, on top of him, beside him, feels the disembodied sensation of a woman stretching around his cock, all echoed through the walls of memory and imagination. The guilt comes in secondary. The details are fuzzy, staring down at the top of her little green hood with a younger version of herself curled up against her chest. The memory of the child she had been throbs painfully in her mind like an open wound, protectiveness and arousal and the insidious gnawing of self-hate —

Breathless, Rogue’s gaze flicks up to Logan. A thin stream of sweat meanders down his temple. Other than that, he looks fine.

“Have you been keeping count?” she asks.

“Three minutes,” he says. His voice is a little rough. “Thought you said you got stronger.”

She can’t help but laugh. He grins back. The connection swings open wide, the essence of Logan trickling over her skin, her muscles, her bones. She breathes in and hears the wind rocking between the trees outside, feels the camper sway side to side, smells the earth dried in the treads of Logan’s boots.

“I’ve been practicing.” Carefully, she stands up. She squeezes Logan’s hand like a vice. The acrid, bitter aftertaste of the coffee suffuses her mouth. She wrinkles her nose. “Can’t believe you drink that stuff with super taste.”

Logan squeezes her hand back. More firm than he ever has before, Rogue thinks, but the pressure doesn’t even approach the point of pain. “I got super taste?”

Surprised, Rogue laughs. “Guess you’d never know any different, would you?” She inches closer in the narrow space, pressing the back of Logan’s hand between her breasts. “Think about me?”

She’d only ever received flashes before. The impression of herself through Bobby’s eyes, the itch in Remy’s fingers to touch her. But Logan’s thoughts are almost perfectly crystallized as they shudder from his body and into hers. She can match them to the movements of his eyes: a fierce rush of protectiveness as their eyes meet, just a favor as he stares at her mouth, a whispered but that dissolves into dogged arousal as his gaze skates over the line of her shoulder.

A soft noise of pleasure threatens to rise in the back of Rogue’s throat. Her heart is pounding as she leans forward and nuzzles her cheek into Logan’s chest.

He wants her. Rogue’s free hand twists into the fabric of his shirt. His arousal reverberates clearly through the caverns of her mind, touching even the deepest parts of her as she soaks him up like a sponge. The pangs of guilt and uncertainty only make it feel that much more real.

“Logan.” She speaks into the fabric of his shirt. It isn’t until the words reach her ears that she realizes how desperate she sounds.

The arm that wraps tightly around her waist, pulling her impossibly closer, is more than enough reassurance that she’s fine.

“Feels good,” Rogue mutters. She could lose herself in this. Imagines standing there forever. She could linger in the warmth of Logan’s arms, the safety of being protected, the satisfaction of being wanted.

“‘Sposed to.” Logan’s lips are warm against her scalp.

It isn’t until a gnawing pain starts to rattle down the connection that she snaps back to reality.

Rogue jumps back, and the connection connection slams shut like a door slammed in her face. Her back hits the chair with enough force to send the whole camper rocking.

“Why’d you stop?” Logan asks. He’s sweating.

Rogue’s mouth opens and closes like a fish. Logan’s still inside of her. Might be forever, with that amount of contact. She has no idea if it’s a function of time or the life force or something else entirely — the soul. Memories of herself flicker across her mind’s eye, crystal clear.

“You were hurting.”

Much less defined, a flash of red. A smile. The fierce burning of love in the pit of her stomach. An ache that rattles her bones.

The silver of Logan’s claws flashes in the morning light. “I’m always hurting.”

Breath knocked from her lungs, Rogue can only stare. She watches Logan’s veins retreat back into his arms, pallor quickly following suit. She hadn’t absorbed as much of him as she would’ve someone else. The memories are easy to push to the back of her mind.

“You get people’s memories, too, right?”

It isn’t until Logan speaks that Rogue realizes she’s been staring off into space. Logan’s still settling inside of her.

“Kind of,” she says. “Usually it’s — they’re more like feelings. And I can ignore it if I need to. Like a voice in the back of my head.”

Logan nods. His claws are the last to retreat, slotting back into his knuckles. She searches for the memory and, for a split-second, feels the fullness of her own forearm. Her eyes go wide.

“You okay?” he asks.

She laughs. “I should be asking you that.”

“I’m fine. I could go longer.” Logan shakes his head. “Try again in a second.”

Rogue nods. The phantom sensation of her knuckles splitting open slices down her arm — very deliberately, she pushes the thought away. She thinks about herself, instead. Logan’s palms on her knees. Wiping away her tears.

“How long does it stay?” Logan asks.

“Huh?”

He crouches down on the floor in front of her. “Me.”

“Oh,” she says. The warmth of him pulses in the back of her mind. Skin to skin, she wants to touch him again. Arousal throbs low in her stomach. “Depends, but — usually for a while.”

“Anything you see — “

She looks down at her own knees. “I know. I won’t tell anymore, or — ask you about it.”

Logan exhales sharply through his nose. She can feel the way the air moves across her bare hand. “You might see some bad shit. Things you can’t handle. Don’t go lookin’ for it. And if — “

“I’ll tell you to stop,” Rogue says. “If I need.”

Silence hangs. “Good,” Logan says eventually. “Yeah. Good.”

Rogue watches his face. Chapped lips pursed in a frown, crow’s feet pinched in worry, eyes fixed unwaveringly on hers. The old, broken essence of him settles into the back of her mind.

“Try again?” he asks, extending his bare palm to hers.

Rogue hesitates. She bites her lip, then asks, “Kiss me?”

Quietly, Logan snorts. Rogue almost feels embarrassed, wondering if the request is too romantic. His fingers run through her hair, then brush the shell of her ear before curling around the nape of her neck. Rogue’s anxiety settles like sand on the beach.

Once again, it’s Logan’s touch — dry lips against her own — that reassures her. Everything is fine.

#rogue x logan #idk im sorry i don't think there's a shipname for this bc it's objectively cursed #😬#the idea that rogue never gets control of her powers as a direct result of xavier getting fucking xplodded is like deeply hilarious to me #also like just extremely enthralled with the sad boy grief logan whose jean and scott are dead #love that guy #im here to have him destroy himself a little bit for the sake of others and nothing else

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the-sun-princess · 1 month

Text

Emi Plays Revue Starlight: El Dorado Part 8

Claudine and Futaba route time. I feel bad for Futaba even when she's one of the leads she's not the lead she auditioned for

d;awwww futaba is so excited to be alejandro she's hoppin around like a kid. she's being SO cute

ooh right i forgot i guessed the casting for this one before lesse if i got it right kaoruko: isabel, maya: miguel, karen: carmencita, mahiru: cavallero, junna: luigi, nana: columbus

for the mahiru route i guessed junna: isabel, karen: miguel, claudine: carmencita, maya: cavallero, futaba: luigi, kaoruko: colombus

alright onward. oh i got kaoruko right. and maya. and karen hehehe

snfjskjdfh. starlight el dorado. where mahiru laughs at everyone Else being jealous

lmao kaoruko asking if claudine will be fine playing against someone other than maya since that's where a lot of her motivation stems from

KJHSKDJFHKJ them all going 'aaah' as that makes perfect sense ksjdfh

girl. you at least Were

writers i think u prob meant stagefighting

i'm kinda shocked that futaba has Already given kaoruko the keys to her bike bc it means she can't drive it anymore unless kaoruko's with her

snort random interlude with sakuragi sensei havin a cool bike. akjhskjfhsd???????/

guess that friend never came back lets hope thats not a portent for kaotaba's future

anyway now futaba has it for the summer. idky sakuragi asked if futaba had a motorcycle license bc....obviously...she does?

claudine is not exactly thrilled to be on a 40+ yo bike futaba has never ridden before but too bad

ah these helmets have intercoms, but futaba's dont bc expensive

awwww.....no revenge this time just. thankful and wanting to show it off

also translators yankee means more like delinquent than american

this is by far the sweetest after-casting scene aha. i love their friendship. claudine does Not like going fast tho lmao

i still think its funnny in the kaomaya route that kaoruko does 0 extra lifting with english interpretation

das not her name localizers kjfh

why is this even wrong- its the same lines as in the other routes so far akjshfd

claudine wants to get sunscreen before going to the beach but futaba's like NAH lets go lets go. I MEAN. she has a point

huh. these two went to a wharf. i do like that they're all unique beaches thus far

futaba really did have the roughest time of all of them originally. i know mahiru lacks confidence but she's never been Bad at any of it. futaba barely managed to get in

i like that futaba put in sound effects for their etude lmao. ah right this is before the royal academy comes so they didnt know there could be a fly system yet

snort

im so confused i went back to make Sure that futaba auditioned for salvatore and she did- so im kinda surprised there's been no mention of that?

lol amemiya and masai pickin up on the teacher-student vibes of claudine n futaba. i am sitting here going can i pls get a crumb of rinmeikan

kjshkdjfh

ah futaba's not keeping up with judy's ad lib. tho claudines character voice also slipped at first and i didnt catch anyone else doing that. maybe it's bc their set up has been so fluffy wuffy friendshippy

junna was p antagonistic toward karen which pulled karen along, and kaoruko and maya arent. fluffy people in general

god im excited for the mahiru nana version

maya u have 0 right to talk about others being brutish on stage

harsh but true

kjsfdkjshdkjfh

awww :)

mm they going over it again since Both claudine and futaba got caught off guard. claudines settled and is matching judy but poor futaba is fallin behind

futaba watchin claudine n judy hit it off and match each other and suddenly she's a first year again barely keeping up

.....do bandaids expire? but locker room kaotaba time

skjsdhf ok kaoruko's just makin shit up

futaba you dont need to keep Up with knightly. u gotta surpass her

interesting....judy wasnt called over from rehearsal to update the props team from england. just startin there

oh was my mahiru guess right. yes it was haha. tho they were pretty easy casting patterns to pick up on

mm masai and amemiya arent satisfied...oh good. futaba admitting she's not okay. aaaah yeah okay this is what i thought was happening. while claudine and judy are performing the scene perfectly as written. it's not meshing well with futaba

futaba headin off on her own to go train....even tho claudines getting all the crit for not keeping up with futaba's passion lmao

kaoruko was right tho at the beginning lmao. of claudine not pullin out all the stops bc she's not against maya.

kaoruko ajkshdf

oh she gave claudine the script for the next starlight- thats surprising. but yeah lol claudine got complacent she beat maya, she's already set to join the troupe, what else she need

akjsfdh masai came along too?

CLAUDINE AND FUTABA ARE SWAPPING ROLES????? hell yeah futaba DOES get to be salvatore. tho rip team b this is way worse a setback than the other two routes. claudine and futaba are no where near each others sizes

the routes do get more complicated as u go down them im Glad i saved mahiru for last

also rip amemiya since masai sprung this on her with no warning ksjhdjf and this is again. a lot more work than them just skippin off to do extra training. i mean theyre still doing that but akjhjsdhf an actual Reason to restart production. akjhskjdfh she's angy

asbdfnbsmdf everyone else is fine with it.

OK amemiya u already had a swapped script goin anyway jhghg

oh new monologue here about revenging starlight. im p sure junkaren n kaomayas were essentially the same this is v diff

ok lesbians

jkhzkjxh yeah

ok do u communicate tho lol

masai's cup ramen flavor for this route

p sure most of this was in the kaomaya route but it still cute

ah image limit. tsk. i am kinda doin this one in one go tho

<<part 7 part 9>>

#emi plays el dorado #revue starlight el dorado

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brionysea · 1 year

Note

pls share again how concerning s4 Mike is because every time i think about the obvious depression, self worth issues, no eating and unusual bad grades i need to rip my hair out immediately, i need someone else to scream too

he turned up not sleeping, not eating onscreen, with an uncharacteristically poor academic performance and physically or emotionally separated from most of his friends

he got off the plane in the most not-mike outfit ever to find out el doesn't trust him enough to confide in him about something they've previously connected over even though he's literally giving up his whole self for this relationship because that's what he thinks will make her happy and also to get blamed for not calling will when will didn't call him either and mike actually did try to call an embarrassing amount, enough for dustin to be sick of hearing about it

he decidedly Did Not Eat at two meals in a row and had everyone in the room worrying about him

he once again got full blame for a strained relationship when he's at least trying to reach out and communicate while el was just hiding in her room

he watched el get carted off to juvie and couldn't do anything about it, only reinforcing in his mind that he can never do anything about anything

he had a quiet little panic over el's note and hesitates an insane amount to talk about what's on his mind whenever will invites him to because he's internalised all the "who cares about mike's feelings"-ness of season 3

he got caught up in a shootout, watched a man die, and helped bury his body

he spent the entire week continuing to panic over the possibility of losing one of his best friends

when he thought he finally got the message he wanted out of will that he won't lose el's friendship for who he is after rambling about how inherently bad and useless he is as a person, will then turned around and pushed him into an insincere love confession or el might die

and after all that he finds out that the home he left for one week has been ripped apart in his absence, one of his friends is dead, another's in a coma, and the world's literally ending. also he's apparently in a cult now

#inbox #stranger things #mike wheeler #st posting

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knifvd · 11 months

Text

SHIPPING INFO — ♥ answer the following for your muses so people know how shipping works on your blog !!

WHAT IS YOUR OTP FOR YOUR CHARACTER(S)?

i write a lot of original characters , so any of the ships i have with my writing partners ( katarina/mirage w/spookyhubby , aiko/eiji w/solivcgant , jay/django w/puckish-rogue , aiko/el w/cupid ) . i have a lot of original characters that i don't write anymore , but i love their old ships too , but the main reason i don't write them is because people wouldn't be interested in them :( as ppl r barely interested in my ocs rn a;lskjdfa;lskjdf

but in terms of canon characters i don't have any really big ships that are canon , i have preferred ships that i have for them even though i don't write them necessarily , but the others would be ( sage/yoru w/galaxythixf , sage/reyna , sage/viper , neon/fade , soraka/voli w/valhiir , soraka/therapy , soraka/sett , soraka/pantheon , lux/jinx , lux/caitlyn w/ferinehuntress , soraka/vayne , uhh ... i just be rattling this shit off give me a moment ... viktor/jayce , mc/eiji w/solivcgant , mc/seven , ethan/therapy , chara/therapy ... sage/jett ) although the list isn't extensive , and doesn't cover everything : i think chemistry is the most important in a ship and if two characters have it then i'm always gonna consider them an otp LMAO !

HOW LARGE DOES THE AGE GAP HAVE TO BE TO MAKE IT UNCOMFORTABLE?

it very much depends on where those muses are in life ; generally for younger muses i don't really believe or like age gaps more than 2 - 3 years , esp with muses that are ... at the very least below the age of 20 , but i base it very much off what i think and find comfortable in relationships in my life . like , katarina is around 28? 29 and one of her main ships is around 39 , but i find that more appropriate since they're both well and full adults .

HOW FAR DO STEAMY MOMENTS HAVE TO GO BEFORE THEY ARE CONSIDERED NSFW?

i think a lot of it borders on suggestive when you're mentioning arousal , but any touching of things that necessarily would be covered by underwear is enough to call it nsfw in my book .

ARE YOU SELECTIVE WHEN SHIPPING?

um . yeah . i think a lot of shipping comes from the muses chemistry , obviously , but a lot of it also comes from how much chemistry i have with the mun outside of it . a lot of times if i don't feel comfortable with a mun it'll be a lot harder to ship with me .

WHO ARE OTHER CHARACTERS YOU SHIP YOUR CHARACTER WITH?

see question 1 . but also , therapy .

DOES ONE HAVE TO ASK TO SHIP WITH YOU?

yes . generally , yes , especially if you want to pursue something outside of flirty based chemistry threads or asks . but also , if you want to ship with one of my characters based on what you've seen on the dash , i'm a dm away . i'm not as scary as you guys might percieve me as .

ARE YOU SHIP-OBSESSED OR SHIP MORE-OR-LESS?

... no ? to both ? i think all relationships ( romantic , kinship , friendship , familial , etc ) to muses are an integral part of developing the muse you have , obviously , but your entire muse shouldn't revolve around one ship / ships , they're more than just the people they're connected to .

WHAT IS YOUR FAVOURITE SHIP IN YOUR CURRENT FANDOM?

i'm a multifandom blog . pls don't ask me that . for valorant i guess it'd be sage/reyna , sage/yoru , sage/omen and sage/jett , for league it'd be ... lux/jinx? i guess? or aphelios/sett or ezreal/ekko and ... a lot of others ; there's like 130+ champs in league BAHA . i don't have many fandoms outside of that .

FINALLY, HOW DOES ONE SHIP WITH YOU?

ask . unless you're cupid or ori then we're forceshipping already /lh but yeah ! i love shipping , and i suck at responding , so please , if you want to ship , please just ask me , and if i say no , that just means i can't see it for the two you mentioned , but that doesn't mean no to shipping with you in GENERAL ! so please , feel free to ask me / dm me or add me on discord ( as of 26/10 , it's soworakas ) !

tagged by : stolen ! tagging : @spookyhubby , @dhmpire , @daemonry , @toxichem , @galaxythixf , @ferinehuntress , @vonerde , @puckish-rogue , @bitterseadrop and you , the person reading this !

#long post /#bunny speaks ‚ ooc.#dev ‚ dash games.#this was enjoyable

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ellorypurebloodculture · 1 year

Note

dear el, how are u doing today? I had a meeting w my advisor today, she sent the zoom meet link like 3 hours before the meet and my verbal report for her was only like, 3 minutes, which covered like, 3 questions lol but hey at least i got thru today?

Ff req, i had a thought for this, earlier, was like oo what would happen with squib reg and petunia, but then i scratched the thought, so.. ff request: reg/lily pls with magic in a modern era magical world? Pc or not up to u~ thx

Hi, Pluto! I'm okay. 😊 Congrats on making it through today! 💛

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Regulus Black scoffs as his brother's stupid friend makes a total arse of himself in front of Lily Evans. She might be the prettiest fire enchantress at the academy, but she's much too good for the likes of James Potter.

"Lily, I'll owe you a favor if you set him on fire!" Regulus calls, still annoyed about the time James used his earth magic to bury him up to his neck in the dirt when he was five.

She snaps her fingers and tiny flames teasingly scorch the ends of James's stupid, shaggy hair that always looks like he's just gotten thoroughly snogged in a broom cupboard.

Lily smiles at Regulus and says, "Dinner in town?"

Regulus smirks as James squawks even louder at that and replies, "Absolutely."

#ellory answers #ellory writes #five sentence ficlet friday #regulus black/lily evans

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psyduckappears · 2 years

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Homesickness for stoncy? PLS ik you've written the last two prompts for it, so im sorry if you get sick of writing stoncy 😭😭

read it on ao3

no but honestly i don't think that getting sick of these three idiots is even possible!!! this was such a blast and also this got away from me again so BADLY ..... hope you like it :)

It's a twist-of-fate kind of coincidence, how it all comes together.

After Vecna, after another brush with death, and world-death, and all-encompassing devastation, Hawkins goes back to normal.

Small-town people are a species beyond comprehension – a tight-knit family that will stab each other in the back at the first opportunity but hold your hand through the next crisis as though nothing happened, a steaming casserole or a rich, sweet pie ready to end all your worries – a community of shared knowledge and shared identity that doesn’t welcome difference but values togetherness over honesty; it’s alright to be different as long as we don’t acknowledge it – a microcosm of shared-experience who will help each other through their trauma as long as nobody calls it trauma.

Hawkins goes back to town-festivals in the summer and caring too much about high school basketball games and exchanging gossip on Main Street when you’ve just run into your neighbor after checking off the last of your grocery list.

The kids go back to school. Robin, Nancy, and Jonathan graduate high school and, only a blink of an eye later, move away for college. Joyce finds a new job, one that pays marginally better than the one at Melvald’s, when one of the school’s secretaries retires. She has more than enough experience making phone calls thanks to that awful telemarketing gig, and nobody doubts that she’ll be able to manage any parent that might try to cause trouble just fine. Even Hopper goes back to his small-town Chief job, now sharing households with Joyce, and together neither of them need to pull as many hours as they did before.

Steve is … well, Steve is Steve. Does he spend too much of his time off work alone at home, watching on the news as the world at large goes to ruins around him that from this rural exile stay distant silhouettes on the horizon? Absolutely. Does he feel a little left behind, here in Hawkins, while the others have left him for the wide, wide world, where life happens every day, right before your eyes? Sure. Sure, he does, but it’s more than that.

He misses Robin, who moved to Boston with Nancy. They promised each other he’d follow her there as soon as he has some money saved and an eye on a job, but so far, it’s all felt a little hopeless. Besides, he doesn’t think he’s quite ready to leave Hawkins, yet, despite everything. After everything over the past couple of years, he probably should be running without a single look over his shoulder, but the thought of leaving still makes him uneasy, invokes this violent urge to radio Dustin, or El, or any of the kids just to see that everything is still looking calm. It’s hard to trust the peace.

Robin, the absolute saint that she is, understands. He thinks they all do, to some extent, even the ones of them who’ve left and sworn up and down they wouldn’t miss the place in the least.

He misses Nancy, too, who he’d just started getting closer to again after Vecna, and Jonathan, who he’d just started to really get to know before they moved away, leaving him behind, too.

So yeah, again, he does feel left behind, and he wants to be out there, but sometimes he thinks in the privacy of his own mind that he feels homesick, and it’s more like … he misses the home Hawkins used to be, before. When they were all still here, and when another apocalypse wasn’t fresh behind them all, and even (though he’d never say it to anyone) those moments facing down hell, where at least it felt like his lacking prospects for a meaningful future wouldn’t matter for much longer. Who cares if you ever got into college when you’re already dead?

He misses, most of all, a time where he wasn’t always looking over his shoulder, not always checking if all his ducks are still in a row, are still alive. He misses sleep without dreams where people he loves die like it means nothing, alive one second, gone the next. He misses a town where every shadow doesn’t feel like a warning, and he longs for a place where everything isn’t predictable, even the crises. Maybe, he thinks, he just misses somewhere he’s never been.

Nancy fills her time between classes with extracurriculars until she doesn’t have time to miss anyone, or at least that’s what she tells herself even while she’s already realizing that it doesn’t work. She joins the campus paper, a group of girls who run together twice a week, and a progressive feminist student organization that Robin invites her along to, but she still feels her fingers itch for her car keys all the time, ready to drive to New York, to Hawkins. It helps to know that Jonathan is the same way.

They schedule phone calls whenever neither of them has class or anything else – mostly when Robin does have class or something else, not because they desperately need the privacy but because she spends most of her time and the money she doesn’t need for rent to call Steve.

Sometimes, when Nancy comes home during one of those calls, Robin will grin and greet her and force the phone into her hand. Nancy kind of loves her for it, if she’s honest, and Robin’s expression says that she knows it even without her saying it.

Calls with Steve always make her smile too wide, and more often than not, she holds him up for way too long, trading news from college and stories about Robin for anything going on back in Hawkins, the more mundane the better. He always has something good about her brother and his friends, at the very least, something light that will make her laugh and that Mike would never tell her himself.

She also learns, this way, that he and Jonathan talk on the phone sometimes, too. It’s usually when Jonathan gets anxious about being so far from home, and he doesn’t really trust Will or his mom to tell him if anything was up because they know he’d be right on his way back home. Nancy can’t say she blames him, and she’s grateful, really, that Steve can do that for Jonathan, now. Be a link back home to take off the edge. Be a friend at all, after all their history. It’s just that it makes her miss them both so much more.

They go home for Christmas, but it’s just a few days before they have to head back to study for some upcoming exams, and they spend the holidays with their families. Only Robin begs off most of the time before and after Christmas dinner to spend with Steve, and then they’re gone again, after just barely a glimpse of the other two.

Calls and calls and calls pass between the three of them, and suddenly it’s a Friday night in early spring, just about 10pm, and Nancy can’t stand it anymore. She calls Jonathan.

“If I leave now, I can pick you up in about four hours,” is what she opens with. She’s met with a few seconds of silence.

“My roommates are out,” Jonathan finally replies. “You can ring the doorbell. I’ll sleep until then and take over.”

Smiling to herself, she starts a pot of coffee. He always knows exactly what she’s thinking. “Power nap halfway there.”

“One or two hours. Maybe near Pittsburgh.”

“We’ll be in Hawkins by afternoon. You have class on Monday?”

“Nothing I can’t skip this one time. I feel like we won’t want to haul ass back to campus after just one night.”

Jonathan is already awake again when Nancy rings the bell, an overnight bag, leftover pasta, and a thermos of coffee ready to go. At 2am, even the city that never sleeps has that eerie quality to it, though it isn’t really silent. Especially not on a Friday night. Still … even though he thinks it’s comforting, in a way, the thought of Nancy standing out in front of his door in the middle of the night, entirely unprotected, has him rushing down the stairs. He doesn’t exactly live in a nice part of town, and judging from past experience, even that can’t save you, sometimes.

“Hi.” Nancy grins when he bursts out the door, the momentum from the stairs still in him as he pushes against the door a little more forcefully than necessary.

Nancy looks tired but happy, messy but beautiful. She looks like she was already halfway to bed when she called him and barely took the time to get dressed before hopping into her car; hair tied up hazardously, sweatpants that he’s pretty sure are his tied fastened with a tight knot so they won’t slip from her waist and looking oddly discordant with her street shoes, and a sweater that is frayed at the sleeves from where she worries them while studying.

He kisses her hello, met with something hi, there you are, and I missed you, too, and then she barely leaves him the time to catch his breath before she’s dragging him back to the car.

There’s a laugh on his lips when he takes the keys from her and slips into the driver’s seat.

“Alright, Jitterbug, how much coffee have you had on your way here?” he asks as they start down the street. They should always leave in the middle of the night, he thinks; the traffic is way less awful at this time.

“Oh my god,” Nancy says, already digging through his backpack for one of the tapes he – predictably, apparently – brought. “Did you just make a Wham! reference?”

He gasps, only half-pretending to be offended. “You know exactly that I wasn’t –“

“I need to tell Steve.” She’s giggling, now, which is definitely a sign that she should probably get those few hours of sleep in, soon. Drunk Nancy has never been a fun time, but sleepy Nancy? She’s a blast. She loves everyone, and she thinks everything is hilarious, and Jonathan loves her, but he really needs to focus on getting them out of the city and onto the right interstate. “I swear, Jonathan, the first thing I will tell him when we see Steve is that you, Jonathan Byers, made a Wham! reference after being all high and mighty when you found out he listened to them.”

“You know they – you know they didn’t invent the word ‘jitterbug’, right?”

Nancy just keeps laughing at him until he knocks her over a little at the shoulder, which has her grin over at him tiredly. He feels unfathomably fond, but he just gives her a roll of his eyes, gluing his eyes back to the road in front of him.

“Take a nap,” he tells her. “I’ll wake you up when it’s time to take a break.”

“You mean you’ll wake me up before you go-go,” she grins, but she dodges his swatting hand and closes her eyes, resting her head against the window.

The drive isn’t half bad, even though the sentimental part of him wishes they were driving east so he could watch the sun come up. This way, the further they get into the morning hours, his gaze keeps slipping to the rearview mirror, not wanting to miss it.

He drives, drives, stops for gas, stretches his legs, and keeps driving. Before he knows it, Nancy wakes on her own, and they’re well past Pittsburgh. In fact, they’re almost at Zanesville, and it’s nearing ten in the morning.

When Nancy realizes this, she gasps and smacks his shoulder several times. “Jonathan!”

“What?”

“You’ve been driving almost eight hours.”

“I wasn’t tired,” he defends, even though he knows it’s still not exactly reasonable. He’s had, what, three and a half hours of sleep? She gives him a look, like god, why do I love this idiot, and it makes him grin sheepishly in a way that makes them both think of Steve, somehow.

Which makes sense because he swears, Steve makes him a little bit stupid.

He will not examine this fact right now, though.

“At the next stop, we’re switching,” she tells him, glaring a little. He can tell she’s reluctantly well-rested, though, and they both know she is much happier about it than she will ever admit when she says, “I guess at least now we can skip that power nap, get there a little earlier. I need to … walk around a bit first, though. My bones feel like I’ve been stuffed into a moving box for two days.”

Rather than agreeing, Jonathan just cracks his stiff neck, laughing when the sound makes her crinkle her nose in disgust. He needs a stretch, too, he really does; his gas foot feels like he’s been flexing it for hours, and he’s pretty sure his ass has fallen asleep. He can’t feel the right half, anymore, and it’s decidedly not a pleasant experience.

“Also, we’re getting breakfast. Gas station food sucks, but I am starving.”

“There’s a box of pasta salad in my backpack,” he offers, even though pasta salad is really just a fancy way of referring to yesterday’s cold lunch. “Knock yourself out. I had some before we left, so I’ll probably just get a donut, or something.”

“You ate pasta salad at two in the morning?” Nancy asks, scandalized as if they haven’t done the same thing with leftover pizza after sharing his last bit of pot or staying up too long studying and … studying. He raises his eyebrow at her, and her judgmental expression melts into a knowing quirk of her lip, an admission of complicity. She starts looking for the box, then, and calls him an idiot for forgetting to bring a fork.

She eats it with her free hand instead of waiting to see if they’d have any at the rest stop, and he falls a little bit more in love with her when she drops a bit of pasta, it falls right into her hoodie, and she begins laughing so hard that she almost chokes.

Robin starts calling at seven and manages to shake Steve out of bed by eight, when he stumbles to the phone with a big yawn and a world of annoyance.

“’lo?” he mutters into the phone, the absolute most anyone could expect of him at this ungodly hour on a Saturday.

“Steve! God, finally –“

“Robin, what the fuck?” He keeps the phone by his ear and drags the chord to the kitchen, where he turns on the coffee maker. “Why are you calling me at –“

“It’s Nancy,” she interrupts him, and only then does he recognize that tone in her voice. It isn’t angry Robin, or excited Robin, even though both sound just as frantic as she does now. It’s terrified Robin. And she’s scared because of Nancy.

He stills.

“What? What do you mean –“

“She’s – not here! I was out late last night, I don’t know if she was still here then because I figured she was in bed, and you know she always has to park super far away from the building, but this morning I realized her keys were gone, and so were her shoes, and she doesn’t have class or any of her other stuff today because she has this big paper due next Thursday, and she cancelled all her clubs and shit for that.”

“I – Robin,” he interrupts, trying to be calm, even though it feels counterintuitive. “Don’t you think she could have just … gone out? To … to the library, or to go shopping, or …?”

“She never takes the car for that. She only uses it when she’s leaving the city.”

“So maybe she went to see Jonathan.”

“I tried calling him. His roommate says he hasn’t seen him, but he ‘took all the food’, which is probably an overstatement, knowing that guy, but – anyway, Jonathan is also gone. I just – I don’t have a good feeling about this, Steve.”

The truth is, neither does Steve. Steve is, in fact, freaking the hell out as he’s standing there in his kitchen, not at all tired, anymore. He tries grasping for logic, that they might have just … gotten together to have a picnic, or something, but …

But suddenly it occurs to him that while he’s been hesitating to leave Hawkins unprotected, he’s been doing the exact same thing to them.

“She didn’t leave a note? Anything to say where she’s going?” Robin’s silence speaks volumes, and Steve feels the dread growing like a shadow in him, looming and dark, always behind him.

Nancy wouldn’t just disappear without telling anyone. Neither would Jonathan. Not after everything that’s happened. He takes the little bit of coffee the machine has produced from the pot and mentally starts looking for his car keys. “I’m coming over there.”

He makes decent progress, despite the little bit of morning traffic that actually affects Hawkins, but breaking every speed limit he can get away with costs gas, and he has to stop a little over half an hour outside of Columbus to fill up the tank. He uses the payphone outside to call Robin to see if there have been any news, but now she isn’t answering, and he feels himself panic even more.

Maybe she’s just in the bathroom, or something, he tells himself. He should call again in a few minutes, maybe get something to eat in the meantime. He hasn’t eaten at all since last night.

His mind switching between Boston and New York, he walks back inside, finding a couple of things he normally enjoys in the snack aisle. He doesn’t feel particularly hungry, but he still goes through the motions of picking them out, swiping his card at the register, and lodging them under his arm to carry back to the car.

When he turns away from the cashier, he bumps into the guy behind him and drops all of it.

“Shit, sorry,” he mutters, already crouching down to pick up his good. He feels like he should get a pass for being clumsy under the circumstances, but it’s not like this guy knows that, and –

“Steve?” the guy says, having joined him on the ground to help him out, and when Steve’s head snaps up, yeah, sure thing, that’s Jonathan Byers right there in front of him. Steve almost thinks he’s hallucinating, but he doesn’t think he’s imaginative enough to come up with such an accurate image of that perplexed expression.

He drops everything he’s picked up right back down again and squishes Jonathan into a hug that probably surprises Steve himself just as much as it does Jonathan.

“Uh, hi?” Jonathan’s voice is muffled against the fabric of Steve’s sweater, but he’s slowly reciprocating the hug, so it’s fine. It’s fine. It’s Jonathan. “What are you doing here?”

“What am I – oh god, is Nancy with you? Please tell me she’s –“

“Yeah, yeah, she’s outside,” Jonathan says, and then he’s pulling away, aiming a worried frown at Steve. “What’s wrong?”

“What are you doing here?” Steve exclaims, then, jumping up from the ground and realizing they’re still right in front of the register, right in the middle of that gas station. At least it’s not a popular one; their only audience is the guy who just rang Steve up a minute ago, and he looks like his job has long bored him to death, and he is now just a corpse with a mysteriously acquired ability to stand more or less upright.

“We’re – we wanted to see you.” The way it comes out is an almost indignant kind of stammer, but clearly embarrassed. Jonathan is looking at Steve but only kind of, and Steve can’t remember when he stood up, even less so when he crossed his arms over his chest so defensively.

Steve would tease him about it if he wasn’t so busy staring at him, open-mouthed, confused, and a little bit angry in the wake of the whole scare. And then there’s that other feeling, the one he’s gotten so incredibly good at ignoring.

Steve seems to be taking too long to reply because eventually, Jonathan goes back to stammering. Which is weird because Jonathan has never, ever been bad at silences.

“It’s just – Nancy called last night, and it was kind of insane because I was just hanging out at the apartment and being kind of miserable about how much I missed her and how … long it’d been since I’d seen you, and then she called and said we should drive back to Hawkins because apparently she was the same way, so …“

“So you just … took off in the middle of the night to – visit me?”

If Steve thought Jonathan looked embarrassed before, he doesn’t know what to call this. He only knows he’s never seen him this red in the face.

“I guess…”

It’s then that they’re interrupted, again not by a new customer but by Nancy, this time. She’s got her wallet out, is looking for something in it, and speaking as she walks into the gas station.

“Are you having trouble with your card again?” she asks, probably because she’s been wondering why on earth Jonathan has been taking so long to pay for their gas. “I keep telling you, you need to call the bank to get you a new one, this is getting – Steve?”

And, okay, so Steve already knew that she was fine, Jonathan already told him, more or less, what’s going on, but he swears, Nancy is still the most beautiful thing he’s ever seen in his entire life right then. He barely knows what to say, and then Nancy helps him out.

“What are you doing here?” she asks, and only then does it occur to him that he never answered Jonathan when he asked him this a minute ago.

Priorities need to be set, though. Rather than answer her question, he does the same thing he did with Jonathan and pulls her into a big, extended hug. She goes a lot more willingly than Jonathan, even though she still seems beyond confused, and even when she pulls back, she leaves her arms around him.

“I – Robin called me,” he finally says, and he can watch every muscle in her face transform from pleasant surprise into some kind of horror.

“Shit,” she says. “Oh god, I – I didn’t leave a note!”

He snorts at that. “Yeah, no shit. You know how scared we’ve been?” He looks over his shoulder at Jonathan, who’s wearing a similar expression. “How is it both of you just decided to disappear without telling a single soul where on earth you’re going?”

“Shit, she didn’t call my mom, did she?”

Steve shakes his head, even though that’s really not what he wants to talk about, right now. “I radioed Will to check if he knew anything and told him not to tell her until I called. But he’s definitely going to be pissed when he finds out about this. Actually, so am I – what were you thinking? What if something had happened to you, and nobody would have known where to even start looking?”

Nancy’s hands around him land on his shoulders, then, squeezing reassuringly just like she used to do, eons ago. He wants to keep catastrophizing, but she stops his last resolve with a small smile. “I’m sorry. We didn’t mean to worry anyone, really. We just … really wanted to see you.”

And really, who could expect Steve to be mad about that? When they keep saying it like that? Part of him wants to resent the easy way Nancy’s echo of Jonathan’s words melts him into something warm and far more relaxed than he’s felt since he woke up this morning, but even that he can’t really hold onto.

“Well, it’s still stupid,” he mutters petulantly, but he pulls her back into another quick hug and lets go feeling a lot less wound up. “I’m gonna go back outside and call Robin.”

Jonathan finds him outside a minute later with Steve’s forgotten snack haul piled up in his arms, leaning against the wall as Steve talks to Robin.

“I know, they’re idiots,” he says, pointedly, which gets him one of those funny little Jonathan-smiles that make him feel all mushy and stupid. Considering the fact that they just nearly caused some sort of national search because they wanted to see him, he lets himself feel the mush for once and grins back. “But they’re really, really sorry and will totally make it up to us.”

“Did they say that or is it just wishful thinking?” Robin asks, but she sounds a hundred times better than when they last spoke, so it’s alright.

“They may not have said it in words, but it’s not like this doesn’t give us a lot of leverage. Anyway, apparently, I’m so incredibly awesome that they both just hadto up and –”

“Oh, hi, Robin,” Jonathan cuts in, snatching the phone from Steve. “Yeah, we’re really sorry about all this. It was pretty late, and it was kind of, uh, an impulsive thing. So we weren’t thinking straight. We didn’t mean to worry anyone, really.”

Steve watches him talk, even though he can’t hear Robin’s replies anymore. He can fill in her parts in his head, more or less accurately, but he doesn’t know what she says to make Jonathan go all pink in the face again.

Finally, Nancy joins them and demands her turn, by which time Steve has to put the third quarter into the phone’s coin slot. She talks to Robin for a little while, apologizing yet again for the scare and promising she’ll bring her back a truck’s load of those knock-off Heath bars she insists are so much better than the real deal, and Steve opens a bag of cookies while they wait for her to finish, offering one to Jonathan.

When Nancy hangs up the phone, all three of them stand silently by the phone for a minute, hovering around the inevitable what now.

“So…” Steve eventually breaks into the quiet.

“So?” Nancy echoes, something amused but not fully self-assured in her smile. Jonathan, beside her, suddenly looks even more nervous, so Steve gives both of them what he hopes is a somewhat reassuring grin.

“You two have any plans tonight?”

They end up at Steve’s place, on account of Nancy and Jonathan both being worried that if their families know they’re in town, they’ll ‘monopolize all of their time again’.

Steve has to stop himself from smiling when Nancy says that. She still blushes a little.

“I mean, I love them! And I miss them, and all that, but – we didn’t really get to see you when we were here for the holidays.”

“You know, Robin said you had some big paper due,” Steve says, looking between the two people on his couch. “Cleared your schedule for it and all. Not that I’m complaining, but – you know. You’re you.”

Miraculously, this makes her blush even more. After some prodding, she admits that she finished it all up yesterday in a productive streak, and that she might have wildly overestimated the amount of work it would be, which honestly sounds about right. He always knew she would continue overkilling it in college the same way she did in high school.

“Oh, so you only came here because you didn’t have anything better to do,” he sniffs, anyways, and she swats at him but still has to smile at the overstated pout that his laughter really wants to break through. “No, no, I see how it is.”

“Oh, shut up!” she laughs. Jonathan, pressed against her other side, watches the scene with something like fond exasperation until Nancy turns on him, her face suddenly taken over with a grin like she’s only now remembering he’s here, and she snaps her head back to Steve in excitement. “Oh my god, I almost forgot. You won’t believe what Jonathan did last night!”

“What did he –“

“Nothing, don’t believe anything she says!”

“No, no, this is gold because – when I picked up Jonathan last night –“

“Libel!” Jonathan squeaks, wrapping an arm around Nancy’s waist and pressing the other down on her mouth as she keeps laughing. She tries licking his hand, wriggling in his arms, but she isn’t really fighting him. He isn’t holding onto her nearly strong enough to keep her in place if she was really trying. “Lies, slander, I - Steve, Nancy is trying to defame me, and I want you to know that you cannot believe anything that comes out of her mouth. She’s – she’s turned over to the yellow press, she’s –”

But Steve doesn’t respond. When Jonathan looks over at him, he’s watching them with a grin, like he isn’t even aware of it, and Nancy seems to notice it too because she stops squirming and stares back at Steve as well.

“What?” Jonathan eventually asks, suddenly self-conscious again. He isn’t usually like this in front of anyone but Nancy.

Steve’s eyes snap to his, but the smile doesn’t dim at all.

“Nothing,” he says, though his tone of voice suggests otherwise. “Just ... it's good to see you two.”

In his arms, Jonathan can feel Nancy soften, leaning back until her back is flush against his chest, his hands now both loose around her middle. There's been this understanding between them for a while. This understanding that means that Nancy knows exactly that he, too, is looking at Steve, and that he knows with just as much certainty that Nancy feels a similar warmth stirring in her at Steve’s words.

And maybe it's obvious. By all means, it really should be, if not from their calling at any given opportunity just to hear his voice, then from today, from the way they drove for hours and hours just because they couldn't stand missing him anymore.

But Steve was there too, several hours out of Hawkins, ready to cross state lines after they went missing for just a few hours. Worried out of his mind, embracing them with an inevitability like he's a compass and they’re north, and really, can there be an explanation for them finding each other like this that is any less significant than the earth's magnetic field?

Steve looks at them like that, now, like it’s a law of nature. Like he knows he can’t turn away, and he doesn’t mind at all. Jonathan thinks that the space that this look is taking up under his sternum might kill him, and he’d let it.

It’s Nancy who eventually braves the silence between them, reaching her hand out for his wrist and tugging him closer. She smiles, and Steve looks so openly hopeful that Jonathan frees one of his own hands to put on top of Nancy’s.

“It’s good to see you, too, Steve.”

The tension isn’t uncomfortable, but something has shifted, and it stays. Still, they spend the rest of the afternoon catching up, and it feels easy, just talking like that. Nancy talks about the adventures of living with Robin, the things they’re finding they have in common the more time they spend with each other. Jonathan talks about this impossibly pretentious guy in one of his classes and lets Steve tease him about it like, see, now you know how we feel.

Steve, for his part, gives them the weekly highlights of town gossip (Mrs. Baker left her bastard husband, good for her; the new mayor proposed another attempt at a mall and was unanimously shut down; a senior from Hawkins High was caught selling weed behind the school, only for Hopper to let him off with a warning because fuck Reagan, and I’m not ruining some idiot kid’s future over some fucking weed, Harrington, who do you take me for?). They ask him how he knows all that, which is how he realizes he hasn’t told them about his new job.

“Shit, that’s right! You know Flo? From the police station?” The question earns him two equally confused glances, which he willfully ignores because he knows they know her, and they’ll get why he’s talking about her in a minute, either way. “Anyway, she got sick a few weeks back, and I guess they never realized how much she was actually doing because once she wasn’t there anymore, everything kind of erupted into chaos. Hop knew I was looking to make some extra money, so he asked me if I wanted to be her stand in.”

“That’s … cool,” Jonathan says, like he doesn’t know if he’s supposed to think it’s cool. It makes Steve laugh, which makes Jonathan blush, which makes Steve’s cheeks hurt.

“It’s alright. Turns out I’m pretty alright at talking –“ Nancy gives him a no shit kind of look for that. “– and the hours aren’t bad. Besides, now that Flo’s back, it’s nowhere near as stressful.”

“They kept you on?” Nancy asks, surprised. “Even though she’s back?”

Steve shoots her a wry grin, like, see, I can keep a job. “Bunch of apocalypses are bound to make people paranoid, so there are a lot of calls to take. We got, like, several lines now. All the paperwork on top of that …”

“Sounds like you’re having a good time.”

The weird thing is, he really is. And he’s still saving money, and he's still planning to up and follow Robin into that wide, wide world, but for the first time in a very long time, he’s letting himself feel like it’s some idea of where he’s going.

Not that he wants to spend the rest of his life behind a desk. God, no. It's all the people that call, that come and go every day, looking for help. On some rare occasions, Steve is the one who gets to help them, in some small way, and he's realized that that's kind of the one thing he's really good at.

“You know that kid?” he says, by the way of nothing at all. Nancy cocks her head, that curious expression in her wide-as-the-sea eyes, and Jonathan frowns at him softly, nothing like the way he used to. “Ryan White, some middle schooler from up in Kokomo. Non-Hawkins news weren’t really top priority for a while with everything that was ... going on, last year, but Robin told me about it, and then I started following it … You’ve heard of him, right?”

There’s a short silence, and for that moment, Steve gets weirdly nervous. He tries to focus on Jonathan’s teeth pulling at the skin of his lower lip, but it only makes him nervous for a different reason, until he nods, slowly. “He’s the one who got sick, right?”

Steve hums, yes, that’s one way of putting it. “The one they wouldn’t let back into school. Someone shot through their living room window, did you know that? Just put a bullet through it.”

“God,” Nancy whispers.

“Nobody was home. They’re moving to Cicero, now that he’s finished with middle school. But I swear, the kid is what – fifteen? And he’s dying, and he has to deal with all of this bullshit on top of it all. And … it all makes me so mad when I think about it, which I do too much because I have way too much free time – ‘cause it’s not fair, right? And what else is not fair is that probably tons of other people are having the exact same issues but get none of the help or the – national fucking attention, whatever, none of that support and nobody cares. It makes me so angry, I could –“

Maybe they’re staring again. Maybe Steve has talked himself into half a rampage and gotten off-track from where he was originally going with this. Nancy is staring, and Jonathan is staring, both with those soft frowns that should be infuriating, should feel infuriating because they should be screaming of dear god, look at Steve, he really has been cooped up in here for too long. He’s turning into some Murray Baumann of obsessing over civil rights.

But it isn’t. They’re both looking at him like that, but it doesn’t feel condescending or pitying or even like they don’t understand. Which makes sense because – who is he talking to? There are two of the most empathetic and socially aware people he knows, even if he wouldn’t even have been able to identify them as that until Robin taught him what on earth that means.

“Yeah,” Jonathan finally mutters. “Yeah, no, I know what you mean. It’s – well, New York is bad. People out here are still pretending it isn’t happening, mostly, but back there, you can’t. … Sometimes you walk past an apartment building in a certain part of town, and you see a whole – a whole life in the dumpster behind it. Just thrown out because there was nobody who would or could claim it.”

The soft, warm tone of his voice has Steve deflating a little from the rigid stance he’s worked himself into. Nancy reaches out her right foot to nudge him with her socked toes. He sighs.

“I just – I want to do something. To help people, to – ” Steve manages. It’s the first time he says it out loud; he hasn’t even talked this over with Robin, not that there’s much to talk about, not that she isn’t the one who got him here in the first place, in a way. “I mean, I want to do something where I can help people like that, you know? People who don’t have anyone to back them up. I just … don’t know how.”

“Have you thought about …” Nancy begins. “I mean, maybe Hopper could help you –“

“Oh, no, no,” Steve cuts in. Maybe, maybe he’s gotten up by now, pacing back and forth in front of the couch like they can solve the whole question of his future right here, right now. “No offence to Hopper, the guy is a saint, but – well, for one thing, everything in the past couple years hasn’t really got me jumping up and down to work for the government in like, any way or form. And then – everything that Hopper’s done that makes him a great guy is also what kind of makes him a shitty police man? I mean, the police don’t exactly protect people, do they? They protect – I don’t know, the law? And the law doesn’t usually protect the people who really need it, so I just don’t –“

A hand on his wrist cuts him off, and he’s a little surprised that it’s attached to Jonathan, this time. In his endless mental list of maybes, Steve finds himself wondering if he’s staring at Jonathan, now, if turning to face him has left them just the slightest bit too close to one another.

“Uh,” he says, eloquently.

“I’m saying this in the kindest possible way – because you going all anti-establishment is weirdly, unfairly hot – and don’t you dare tell her I said this, but meeting Robin really is the best thing that ever happened to you.”

“She knows,” Steve replies, almost automatically, then clamps his mouth shut and abruptly lets it drop open again. “Wait, did you –“

Jonathan snatches his hand away like he's burned himself, so maybe he himself didn't realize what just came out of his mouth. He really does blush so drastically. It’s a little bit addictive to look at. There are a few seconds where both of them just sort of ... gape at each other, lost for words in this inane situation.

Nancy, fortunately, has always been rather impatient with them and cuts through their silence with an exasperated groan.

“For God's sake,” she says, with both of the others now staring at her instead, like waiting for her to tell them what happens next. “Will you just –“

She doesn't get to finish. She doesn't need to finish, really, because apparently her and Jonathan still share that strange psychic connection between them, so that Jonathan gets the message just fine.

They're kissing, and Steve never even saw it coming.

It somehow just happens like this. One moment, Steve is rambling about the … evils of the world, and the next, Jonathan Byers is kissing him like he doesn't know if it's allowed, and he'll give it his all just in case it's all that he's going to get. Maybe, Steve is kissing back the way he is for the same reason, or maybe it's just to prove that Jonathan is wrong. Maybe, maybe, maybe.

Before he knows it, they’re pulling apart, breathless like marathon runners, but more from the shock than from exertion. More like the adrenaline of having slain the monster and lived rather than the endurance it took to get there.

Nancy doesn't give him the chance to catch his breath before she takes over from where Jonathan left off, and yes, he thinks dizzily, maybe this is that homesick feeling he's been having. Maybe, maybe, maybe.

Well, he doesn't have to miss them tonight, or even tomorrow. And maybe, just maybe he is finally ready to come with them, find a place somewhere that can be a home they can all come back to, eventually. Hawkins has Hopper, Joyce, El, and the other kids there to look after it, look after each other. From the way the two of them keep looking at him after they part, he gets the feeling that he might be needed elsewhere.

#stranger things fic #stranger things #stoncy #prompt fill #jonathan x steve x nancy

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astra-infernalia · 1 year

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hello! if it’s okay could i pls have a reading on how you would describe me/my personality to my future spouse? i’m P 🌌 and my pronoun is she/her (if needed) and public would be fine. thank u in advance!

Describing P 🌌 to her future spouse

Hello P! I drew 7 cards from Mary-El Tarot for your reading:

Your relationship dynamic with your future spouse;

Your contribution to the relationship dynamic;

Your future spouse’s contribution to the relationship dynamic;

What your future spouse will like about you;

What your future spouse will dislike about you;

How you should describe yourself to your future spouse;

Outcome.

In the black and white image on the left, I numbered the cards in the order in which I drew them. In the colored image on the right, the cards themselves are displayed. I will provide image descriptions for each card within the reading.

Starting Notes

This 7 card spread features 2 non-court minor arcana cards (both of which are 3s), 3 court cards, and 2 major arcana cards. The recurrence of the number 3 (a pair of 3s and 3 court cards) seems significant, suggesting a theme of communication, while 2 pairs (the matching minor arcana cards and the 2 major arcana cards) seem auspicious for a future partnership.

All of the court cards appearing in this spread belong to the suit of cups. This abundance of cups brings a sense of emotional idealism to this reading.

1. Relationship Dynamic - King of Cups

This card displays a nude, bearded human figure with white hair. The figure is carring a trident in their left hand and drifting in pond water, surrounded by blue water lilies and lily pads. The image is evocative of the idea of being or becoming one with nature.

The King of Cups is a mature person who has attained mastery of their emotions, their ideals, and their inner world. As a card representing a relationship dynamic, the King of Cups is fortuitous. It suggests a fulfilling, stable emotional connection and/or a relationship based on powerful, deeply held values and beliefs.

It should be noted that the King of Cups, as a court card, often directly represents a person. Given that the other two court cups in this spread represent your traits, this card might represent you, if you vibe with the term “king” in any sense. If you are attracted to masc-aligned folks or to butches or enbies who might like to be called “king”, this card might directly represent your future spouse. Given that this card is for your dynamic, it could represent both of you.

This card suggests a relationship that brings and/or requires the pursuit of emotional mastery for both of you.

2. Your contribution to the dynamic - 3 of Wands

This image depicts a red face with a single open eye. A small black snake intersects two crossed wands or keys and slithers up onto the eye, as if to strike at it. The snake’s tail coils at the bottom of the image, with a hexagram emerging from the tail. In an occult context, a hexagram can represent a convergence of elements (e.g. elemental triangles overlapping) and/or the magic of King Sholomo (Solomon). This image is evocative of magic and of a “call to adventure” that may open your third eye.

In general, in tarot, 3 of Wands represents movement, action, and adventure. The suit of wands represents passion, which contrasts against the stable suit of pentacles representing your future spouse’s contribution to the relationship dynamic.

These cards suggest that in your relationship with your future spouse, you are likely to be an initiator, a planner, and someone who brings creative or sexual energy to the relationship. You may challenge this partner in positive ways.

You may also be, at least initially, more interested in magic and metaphysics. I get the impression that at first you may pester them, even antagonize them, with spiritual guidance, like a gadfly buzzing around their third eye. You will need to find a balance, integrating the gentleness of the King of Cups into any mentorship that occurs. But in this dynamic, you hold keys that could bring spiritual growth into your partner’s life.

3. Your future spouse’s contribution to the dynamic - 3 of Disks

This card depicts two figures clothed in flowing orange robes. Their arms are entwined, and they are carrying a baby together. One person has the symbol for the North Node on their hand. The other person has the same symbol on their hand, but the hand is turned about 90°, evoking the South Node. This image is suggestive of teamwork (possibly culminating in destiny), family, nurturing, and physical comfort.

The traditional meaning of 3 of Disks/Pentacles in tarot is teamwork and cooperation toward material goals. This version of the card emphasizes creative potential and the idea of investing in a long-term commitment with a partner.

This card provides a fascinating contrast to the previous card, 3 of Wands. Both your contribution and your future spouse’s contribution to your relationship dynamic are represented by minor arcana cards numbered 3, suggesting that you are on similar wavelengths in terms of contributing to the relationship. But your future spouse will contribute disks (or pentacles), which are associated with material wealth and physical health, rather than wands, which are associated with passion.

With this in mind, as the card for your future spouse’s contribution to your relationship dynamic, 3 of Disks indicates that your partner may take a more pragmatic approach than you. They may be level-headed, focused on practicalities, and able and willing to provide for your physical needs. They may be interested in starting a family with you.

4. What your future spouse will like about you - Knight of Cups

This card depicts Sir Percival, the knight of Camelot who quested for the Holy Grail. Percival wears ornate armor and has an extra eye on his chest. He carries a cup, which may be interpreted as the Holy Grail. The cup is held against Percival’s abdomen and is overflowing with blood. A white flower grows from the cup. This image is reminiscent of romantic, chivalrous folklore and of heroic questing knights.

In traditional tarot card meanings, the Knight of Cups is a person on an emotional quest or journey. They are not as emotionally mature or wisened as the Queen of Cups or the King of Cups, but they have found a quest worthy of embarking on and have already begun that quest. As the “story” of a tarot deck goes, a successful knight may mature into a queen or king. This is particularly relevant, because the King of Cups represents your relationship dynamic.

This card suggests that your future spouse will appreciate the strength and depth of your emotions and ideals when you apply them toward making your dreams come true. In particular, the 3 of Disks above indicates your partner will be a pragmatic or materially conscious person, and they will like the way you turn your feelings into drive, momentum, and real change. Considering the 3 of Wands’ implications of adventure, they may also enjoy traveling with you.

Combined with the King of Cups, the Knight of Cups here suggests that when you apply your emotions toward a goal, your partner will appreciate it, and it will contribute toward a relationship dynamic that involves emotional mastery and fulfilment.

5. What your future spouse will dislike about you - Page of Cups

This card depicts a human figure in an ambiguous landscape evocative of water. The figure is facing away from the viewer, and they have fish tattooed or painted on their back, neck, and scalp.

The Page of Cups is another court card, likely representing you. It is absolutely not a negative card in traditional tarot interpretation, but in comparison to the Knight of Cups, the Page of Cups has some shortcomings. The Page of Cups is moody, idealistic, and searching for a worthy quest, while the Knight of Cups has already found something they want to pursue. In the story of tarot, just as knights can mature into kings and queens, pages can mature into knights.

This card, combined with the last, suggests that your future spouse will appreciate your emotional energy, moodiness, and idealism, but they may become frustrated when these manifest in immature ways. They may be especially frustrated if you brood for long periods of time without a goal in mind.

Consider also that in this image, the page is facing away from the viewer, while Percival faces the viewer. The Knight of Cups suggests your partner will value your emotional honesty, and the 3 of Disks suggests they will be practical and goal oriented. If your brooding has any goal at all, even if that goal is self-growth or processing stress and trauma, your partner will be happier if you tell them what you’re trying to achieve and why.

5. How should you describe yourself to your future spouse? - XVI The Tower

The Tower, a major arcana card, is among the most iconic cards and symbols in tarot. In this deck, The Tower depicts a great spire engulfed in smoke and flames. This particular spire looks a lot like a partially collapsed Statue of Liberty burning. In general, the foremost keyword for The Tower in tarot is “disaster!”. Before I say anything else, I want to say that I think The Tower has much more to say in this reading than “bad things”.

In psychoanalysis, a tower represents the ego, specifically one’s conception of the ego as an isolated, individual thing. But no one is an island, we are all connected, and the illusion of oneself as separate from and in control of the environment can come crashing down in the blink of an eye. In Jungian analysis, the tower is associated with doomed hubris. The prototypical image of the Jungian tower is seen in the story of the Tower of Babel. In tarot, the complex symbolism of a tower is often reduced to “suddenly, the world is upside down!”, which is perfectly apt in many spreads where The Tower appears.

Here, I think The Tower calls attention to you, yourself, as an individual with an ego and an image that you want to refine and present to the world. It also calls attention to you as someone with strongly held beliefs and a willingness to destroy the status quo and even your own ideas if it turns out they go against your ideals.

To me, The Tower says here: Be honest, and show them who you are, even if it means showing them your disasters.

Since this tower is Lady Liberty burning, it also says: Make sure they know you are a freedom fighter.

My reading suggests your future spouse will love you for who you are. They will tremendously value emotional honesty and forthrightness in your relationship, and they will dislike emotional cageiness. They may be frustrated if you keep your heart sealed away.

In this deck, the Knight of Cups holds a bleeding cup against their chest. The Tower invites you to go a step further. It is ok to be wounded, to talk about your personal crises, and to be honest about your pains, and it is ok to be vocal about your frustration when the world doesn’t live up to your ideals.

7. Outcome - XI Justice

This card depicts Ma’at, a goddess of justice and truth. In this image, she holds her characteristic feather. She partially faces the viewer and looks to the right, toward the side of the spread where I placed your prospective partner’s card (3 of Disks). In this context, I have a strong impression of Ma’at who is Justice looking toward the future and toward your future spouse.

As a tarot card, Justice represents balance, fairness, truth, and cause and effect.

In this reading, Justice emphasizes your role as a person willing to fight for positive change. It also acts as a further call to emotional honesty and a reminder that your future is in your hands. If you are true to yourself and the depth of your emotions, you and your future spouse will have a deeply satisfactory dynamic as embodied by the King of Cups.

Overall

If I were describing you to your future spouse, based on this reading, I might say, She is a deeply emotional individual who resonates with your ideals. Your relationship will be one of emotional mastery and stability, but both of you will have to work to acheive the maturity necessary for such a relationship. When the time is right, you will want to settle down with her.

Or I might say, You’ll think she’s a hot mess, and you’ll love it.

Ultimately, the task of representing yourself and your feelings to your future spouse is in your hands. My deck and I want to encourage you: always be true to yourself.

Thank you for dropping by! I hope that I was able to provide some insight. 🩷

#tarot readings #free tarot #free readings #astra’s readings

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nadia-zahra · 2 years

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Deeper Dive on Mike and his Gay Feelings

To give context to Mike’s s3 behavior first:

Like I said in my first deep dive on Mike, at the snowball he realizes he feels romantically towards Will and begins his “I don’t like like Will, I’m normal 😃” phase. Normal for him means being heteronormative. Mike thinks acting like a smartass, only spending time making out with your girlfriend, and not wanting to play d&d is what normal teenagers do. This is because of the influence both Ted and Steve had on him in s1. Y’all forget that Steve did literally everything I just listed when he was with Nancy and Ted makes subtle, but homophobic comments ab Will and Mike throughout the show. It makes sense that Mike thinks acting like a douchebag is what’s normal people do because that’s literally all he’s ever learned.

MAJOR MF EDIT OMG: I'm so angry with myself. After this has been up for a few weeks now AND I have reread this post at least three dozen times to make sure my message came across exactly how I wanted it to, I've just realized I didn't clarify Mike didn't know he wasn't romantically into El. Mike doesn't realize he's not romantically in love with El until 3x6. Before, he was confusing his platonic feelings for romantic ones. pls future readers know that whenever I discuss his feelings ab El before the cabin scene he isn't aware that his feelings for her are not romantic. He's not completely using El as a way to repress his gay feelings for Will, he genuinely thinks he like likes her because of his desire to be heteronormal/like girls. This post disproves the bi mike theory and mileven--just casually killing two birds with one stone lol (except bi mike is a national treasure)

Alright, *cracks neck and knuckles* let’s get into s3.

3x1 right off the bat lets us know mileven isn’t healthy. The first scene of these two is them making out, El puts her hands on him, he takes them off, he starts being goofy and sings the song that’s playing, and El doesn’t like it so she shuts him up by kissing him. Ok so Mike doesn’t like getting touched by El romantically…cool cool. This also gives us our first hint at how Mike and El are not compatible— he likes being silly and singing along to songs and she doesn’t. Just one of the ways we’re shown they don’t have similar interests.

After Hop busts them making out, Mike leaves and mileven has a brief lil convo over walkies. This talk shows us they are not equally emotionally invested in their relationship. El lovingly says “I miss you”, he replies “yeah. Me too”. He has annoyance in his voice--like he just wants to get off the walkie. El doesn’t pick up on it, but it’s clear as day from our pov. What’s really odd, though, is Mike not telling El about going to the movies with lumax and Will. Does this mean he’s never mentioned all the other times too?? Why doesn’t he tell her if it’s just the four of them hanging out?? Well...if he’s not telling El now its safe to assume he hasn’t before. Mike never telling her ab the hangouts implies he feels guilty for having more fun at the movies with Will than making out with her. He doesn’t want El to know he dislikes spending all their time together kissing, so he just lets her assume he’s sadly going home. El is clearly more emotionally invested with this relationship and genuinely has lovey feelings for Mike, but he only feels platonically towards El, even after they start dating.

Mike arrives at the mall where he meets lumax and Will to go to the movies. Lucas says three things that are important: 1) Mike’s late again 2) makes fun of mileven for only making out 3) calls these hangouts romantic time with Max. First gonna dissect the last thing I listed because Lucas basically calling it a double date lets us know the tone of these hangouts. They’re romantic in nature, it’s not just four friends hanging out. If lumax thinks it’s a double date...and Will wants it to be a double date...then Mike also senses it’s a double date. Another reason why he doesn’t tell El about them. Second, Lucas (and later Robin) mentions this isn’t the first one. The four of them have done this MULTIPLE TIMES. Mike hasn’t been on a romantic date with El btw, he’s literally only ever shown on one with Will. Like if the writers wanted us to believe mileven is emotionally connected and romantic, then they would’ve made a different opening milkvan scene. Lastly, Lucas makes fun of him for only making out with El. This is really important because it tells us that the characters in stranger things notice this relationship isn’t healthy!!!

*milkvans speaking* But El is his first gf ofc they’re going to make out all the time! no. incorrect. wrong answer. lumax and duzie (idk is that what they’re callied lol) are great examples of how that ain’t true. Max is Lucas’s first gf and even he gets that it’s weird to want to ONLY make out. Suzie is also Dustin’s first girlfriend and they bond over The Never-Ending Story, not swapping spit.

When Mike replies with “Yeah it’s so funny I want to spend romantic time with my girlfriend” it got me thinking…does Mike think this is how dating is supposed to be?? And yeah, he does!!! He doesn’t understand how to build a deeper romantic relationship with El because he doesn't know his feelings for her are platonic. Mike’s just doing what he thinks he’s supposed to do. It proves to himself and others that he’s normal by forcing himself and El to make out (yes I said he’s forcing el I’ll discuss that later). Hopper is the second person to talk ab how mileven only making out is weird. It doesn’t help that Mike acts like an ass towards him, but he acts like that towards Hop because it’s a part of his new douchebag facade. Just gonna throw byler moments here: Mike gets defensive when Will agrees with Lucas, byler hardcore blushing at the movies, Mike staring at Will for roughly 24s while Will is having his war flashbacks, and both of them looking at each other’s lips multiple times in less than 6s.

3x2 Mike lies to El ab his nana and their very fragile relationship begins to untwine. Now I have to say this, Mike 100% wasn’t forced to lie and make up an excuse on why they couldn’t hang out. Hopper threatened to not let him see El again, but he covered the lie up by telling her Mike’s nana was fine. We never did get to hear what hop told mike, but Hopper doing this means he would’ve been ok with Mike coming over the next day as long as he didn’t act like a smartass and kept the door open three inches. Mike chose to add to the nana lie. Even after El asks him straight up if he’s lying he says no. Why would he continue to lie to her when he clearly had a way out?? To put it frankly: Mike didn’t want to spend his afternoon making out with El when he doesn’t even enjoy doing it. Ik…crazy…but Mike knows he’s shit at lying, so he heads to the mall with Lucas and Will to buy her an apology gift.

The whole present/mall situation is the biggest clue to how Mike and El just aren’t compatible from s3. He knows he needs to apologize, but he doesn’t know what she would like because he doesn’t know literally anything ab her interests. The only present he could find for her was too expensive (and Will coded), so he just ended up not buying anything for her. Dude what?! She would’ve been happy with literally anything. Ffs she says in this episode “how do I know if I like something”. The elmax scenes just further prove milkvan doesn’t work because it is quite literally “El being really happy because there’s more to life than stupid boys”.

I’m trying not to add the subtext byler clues to this but I just think this one’s funny: Lucas sprays a purple (mileven color) perfume on Mike, and he makes a super disgusted face lol

El breaks up with mike when her and max see the guys at the mall. I love this for her honestly because this was her first step into being independent and finally living the way she wants to live!!! Back to Mike and his gay feelings— from this point moving forward, Mike thinks they’re broken up. Ik you might think this is a weird thing to say cause like…no dipshit sherlock…but trust me you have to keep this in mind.

THE MOTHERF**KING RAIN SCENE

I was going to do a whole other post on the rain scene because it’s so much, but I figured I should just keep it in here because this is a deep dive on ALL of s3 mike and his gay feelings. You have been warned 😶‍🌫️

This scene and what we’ve seen leading up from Mike’s pov is A LOT different than Will’s.

At the snowball Mike realized he like likes Will due to his jealous insecurity that someday Will’s going to replace him. His new personality is the result of this realization. And Mike’s personality change leads to him pushing Will away emotionally. Him making excuses on why they can’t play (Lucas is down to, Mike is the one that’s making all the excuses) and openly making fun of Will during the game (Lucas actually never makes fun of Will, he just laughs at mikes joke) are all a part of the facade.

Here’s the thing: Mike doesn’t know a) Will’s gay and doesn’t want to be normal b) Will like likes him back. He genuinely believes that their special friendship, the extremely deep and emotional bond they share, is all in his head— all just a childish, one-sided crush. Mike literally couldn’t tell Will was upset all summer because of his own insecurities in their friendship blinding him, not because he was so invested in menthol cigarettes.

Will snapping (rightfully so) and leaving the basement finally gets Mike to pay attention to the other’s feelings. He thinks Will’s just upset over him not wanting to play d&d, but getting called out for being flakey and not caring ab the party makes Mike realize he’s noticed everything. You can see in Mike’s face he’s gonna defend his shitty behavior (he always plays defense in fights). But when Will throws in the “you’re destroying everything and for what? So you can swap spit with some stupid girl?!” Mike loses it.

Now the miscommunication comes in clutch. Both of them interpret the bolded sentence in different ways. Mike’s version: You’re destroying everything because you like making out with a girl who’s literally dumb. Will’s version: Your destroying everything because you like girls.

And Mikes response, “El’s not stupid! It’s not my fault you don’t like girls”, was also interpreted two different ways. Mike’s: El is smart, and it’s not my fault you haven’t grown up yet. Will’s: El is smart, and it’s not my fault you’re gay.

Yeahhhh the duffers were lying their asses off back when they said it’s not supposed to be interpreted as calling Will out. Everyone INCLUDING WILL heard it that way. It was written deliberately as “you don’t like girls” for a reason. Why else would Will get so upset when he’s canonically gay? We can all safely assume they lied because they didn’t want Will’s sexuality to be known yet.

OMG I JUST HAD A REALIZATION OF MY OWN. Idk where to put it so here it is: Mike’s whole thought processing with his crush on Will being childish is because he thinks Will is straight and still in the prepubescent mindset of “no romantic feelings exist I’m pure of mind girls have cooties 😇”. And at the snowball he sees a glimpse of Will being out of the child mindset, hence Mike begins wanting to grow-up. Anyways…

Mike can tell from the expression on Will’s face he’s gone too far. Now he’s not defensive because he can now see that he was unintentionally hurting Will all summer, and that his remark was below the belt (he doesn’t actually get the real reason why Will is upset, he just thinks he does because of miscommunication).

Mike’s rationalization for his shitty behavior is what he realized he’s afraid of back at the snowball. That Will is going to get a gf someday, and the two of them aren’t going to play d&d in his basement forever. He truly believes emotionally pulling away is saving him from a hell-reality where Will loves someone else more than him. Since he thinks all his questions are just facts, he thinks Will also believes this. Up until Will responds with “Yeah, I guess I did. I really did”. That completely shatters Mike’s false reality. Now knows literally every single word he’s said just made things ten times worse. All he’s thinking now is “if I don’t apologize for everything I just said, I’m actually going to lose Will”.

I’m ignoring Mike + Lucas going to the byers house and apologizing.

Wait! Before you scrutinize me for acting like this cute scene doesn’t exist, let me explain!

The fight scene takes place in the day and the boys going to the byers happens at night. Why? Idk. If you just watch it once you don’t think ab the time difference, but when you do, you unconsciously write it off as Mike waiting for the rain to stop…except it never did. The show doesn’t explain the time jump and instead acts like it didn’t happen. I’ve really tried to think of a plausible answer to Mike + Lucas waiting and this is the only one I could find: when rewatching the show for my notes on this analysis, I noticed time is nonexistent s3. Almost every scene in s3 has a clock, but time in scenes and the order of sequence don’t match up. The time inconsistency within s3 is a whole other can of worms I am not smart enough to tackle, and I’m not going to act like I understand why the duffers chose to make the destruction of caste byers + this byler scene at night. Also ignoring it because if you take it out nothing changes in their dynamic from mike’s pov. He still wants to properly apologize, but he doesn’t because a) mind flayer is back and b) last byler scene happens but we’ll get to that later.

Other things from 3x3: El can’t tell if Mike’s a good kisser. This means she doesn’t really enjoy making out with him (she def thinks his kissing is a 3/10), but doesn’t want to admit it because she thinks Mike enjoys it. Like I get her not knowing what types of clothes she wants to wear, but her body is telling her she’s not that into it. Also means that Mike is the one in control of their relationship if she’s just kissing him because she thinks that’s what he wants. The sexist convo between Lucas and Mike highlights Mike’s internalized homophobia and inner turmoil ab not being normal. He claims, “women act on emotion, no logic”, but it’s just him projecting-- he obviously doesn’t believe this. Mike saying this means he’s bullied himself for having a very emotional friendship with Will (being girly/emotional=gay=not normal). And Mike is definitely lying ab not knowing why El is mad at him, and him acting clueless is just a part of the persona. Ffs the whole reason she caught him is because they couldn’t find an apology gift for lying to her.

This is something I haven’t touched yet (I probably should’ve by now whoops): Mike is not against El gaining independence, he’s against El not needing him in her life anymore. He sees himself as kind of her yoda; he was the first one to gain her trust and to teach her ab life outside the lab. He thinks she needs him as a friendly mentor figure, not as a loving boyfriend. He doesn’t understand that he can’t tell her how life is supposed to be like anymore because that was their dynamic before dating. S3 she’s not fresh out the lab or new to this world; she knows enough ab life now and wants to figure out her own opinions/interests with a supportive boyfriend.

Anyways back to Mike’s internalized homophobia...

3x4 is the beginning of Mike looking at Will in a different light than he has been all summer. Will admitting he thought it was gonna be them together forever made Mike feel less insecure ab believing this too. He still thinks their friendship is on the rocks, but at least he knows now Will wanted to play d&d together forever before the fight. This episode introduces Mike’s “new” body language of subtly (not subtly) sitting/ standing weirdly close to him and way more secret glances. Sadly, he’s still trying to cling to milkvan instead of facing his insecurities.

Mike and El meet for the first time post-breakup. If you take his playful joking at face value, it’s weird and insensitive towards her. But really he just forgot for a sec that they were on bad terms. Why? idk maybe because byler got into their biggest fight ever the day before, he’s scared and stressed ab the mind flayer being back, and the party is literally grabbing stuff to capture Billy (the scariest person in the show besides Vecna). Personally, I don’t blame him for joking with El ab the dummy to kinda lighten the mood.

Mike thinks he’s gonna reel El back into a relationship by doing the exact thing that made her break up with him: by lying his ass off. Says Hopper told him to lie (no he didn’t Hopper cleared it up), she’s the most important person to him in the world (again a lie seeing as he never even apologized for the nana lie), and that Hop’s just some crazy, old man who thinks they spend too much time together (only true thing he says but weirdly enough it sounds like the weakest point). In the past El has just gone with everything Mike’s told her, so he’s shocked when she agrees with Hop on them spending too much time together. Interesting how out of all the things he says, El outwardly agrees with only the true one.....

Mike doesn’t still get that their relationship wasn’t healthy; that they can’t actually be a good couple if all they do is make out every day and don’t get to know each other. El basically saying “we’re done. I don’t want to get back together because I spied on you, heard some awful shit, and want to make my own opinions” destroys his idea of their dynamic. Before this, Mike felt in control of it (cause he was), but now she doesn’t just go along with everything he says. Now he knows El truly meant it when she dumped his ass. And ofc instead of admitting to himself she came to this conclusion on her own before the spying situation, he chooses this delusional ass mindset: he’s been spied on by elmax, meaning El trusts Max more than Mike, meaning Max somehow brainwashed El into dumping him and are now conspiring against him.

I feel like I shouldn’t have to add this, but I will just so that Ik me and whoever is reading this are on the same page: Mike cares for El--platonically, like a sister. Ofc he didn’t think twice ab grabbing the metal pipe and whacking Billy with it. It wasn’t a romantic gesture it was literally him saving El from murder.

3x5 begins the “conspiring against me” ordeal. To be blunt, Mike gaslit himself into believing Max and El are conspiring against him and is unsuccessfully trying to gaslight everyone else too. For Mike, admitting to anyone (including himself) that their relationship wasn’t working confirms his insecurity ab not being normal. He’s fully choosing to believe two of his best friends are plotting against him rather than face the reality of mileven being over because it wasn’t good for either of them.

THE HOSPITAL SCENES

Mike thinks mileven is done. El has clearly said multiple times now she’s done and he’s accepted it. If Lucas didn’t tell him it was an olive branch then Mike wouldn’t have even thought twice ab the vending machine exchange. And even after Lucas explains it’s a sign El wants him back without explicitly saying “she wants you back”, Mike still thinks it’s an olive branch to get back on good terms and to go back as besties!! Mike offering her m&m’s wasn’t a way to show her he’s still boyfriend material, it was to show he’s still best friend material!! And because Mike is oblivious, he doesn’t notice El blushing and smiling like a freaking idiot!! Rewatch the scene, he literally blinks in her direction twice he ain’t noticing shit!!

3x6 is the climax of Mike’s s3 arc. He’s still desperately trying to convince everyone he’s being conspired against by elmax, but now Max is done with his bullshit and calls him out for being controlling. He knows they aren’t getting together, but he wants everyone to believe the breakup’s not his fault (he’s normal he liked dating El) it’s because of Max. He doesn’t see his behavior as controlling because he views himself as El’s life guru who makes decisions for her; it’s why he thinks the evil, conspiring Max is framing him to be sexist. He’s already getting defensive (he’s so shit at explaining himself omg) but Nancy joining in just makes it worse. He knows what Nancy and Max are telling him is true-- that El isn’t stupid and knows her limits. But Mike literally just got back into her good graces, they’re friends again and he doesn’t want El to kill herself looking for a monster they aren’t prepared for.

His whole speech is literally what I’ve just explained except he did a worse job at explaining himself lmfaoooo.

Every single person heard him loud and clear say he loves El, and every single one of them thinks Mike is in love with her now. Mike looks stunned that he even said that out loud and he knows no one interpreted it as a platonic Ily. This is the moment Mike is done wanting to date El and is done ACTING NORMAL!!!! Hearing himself say that made him realize he can’t continue dating her and that he doesn’t even want to; Mike doesn’t want to be in a relationship where he's not in love!!! He’s accepted that he doesn’t want to date El (and probably all girls)!!! HE’S OKAY WITH BEING NOT NORMAL!!!!

When he sees El walk out of the bathroom, he looks scared. He didn’t want El to hear him say it. Mike can act as straight as he wants but saying I Love You is too far. He knows it’s really really hurtful to lie to her about this and that if she heard the accidental ily he wouldn’t be able to back out of it. That’s why he acts like nothing happened afterward.

3x7 reaffirms Mike doesn’t want to date El anymore with the grocery store scene. When he says, “I’ve been meaning to tell you something”, he’s not going to say “I love you”. We all know that because he didn’t say it back at the cabin, can’t even say “Love Makes You Crazy” and ffs s4 happens. What he’s been meaning to tell her is an apology for his shitty behavior towards elmax, that he’s okay with them not dating, and that he’s happy for El’s new friendship.

Mike says he was jealous of El and Max hanging out all the time. Now I don’t think he realizes this, but he wasn’t jealous of them spending time together—he was jealous that El wasn’t listening to Mike anymore and was using Max as her life yoda now. You may think I’m putting words into his mouth, but if you rewatch the first episode you’ll remember he was in a hurry to leave El’s and half-heartedly said he missed her... not very clingy of him is it. And elmax was essentially Max telling her she doesn’t have to listen to anyone and to explore herself, something Mike never did for El.

Mike saying “I just, like, I’ve never felt like this, you know, with anyone before” isn’t about romantic love it’s about platonic love! He hasn’t gone through losing any of his friends like he has with El. He’s never had to mentor or guide any of his friends except El. Will is someone he romantically loves, and Mike’s unique love for him is very different from his unique love for her. His love for her is special and only something he’s ever felt for specifically her. And Mike understands his feelings for her, hence bringing up love makes you crazy. And once again, Mike wants to slap himself for speaking without thinking. There’s not a doubt in my mind he 150% didn’t think about who he was talking ab love with when he said that. He doesn’t want her to get the wrong idea, like worst case scenario for Mike is El thinking he is in love with her and wants to get back together. That’s why he goes out of his way to NOT say the L word.

I just wanna say thank you to every person that read this entire post I’ve spent days working on this and it means a lot <33333

3x8 THE BIG KAHUNA MOVING DAYYYYYY

By this point in the show, Mike has grown a hell of a lot. He’s done wanting to be in a relationship with El, he’s done acting like a douchebag, and he’s finally comfortable admitting to himself he’s not normal. Byler has been on the back burner since 3x3, but Mike has felt distant from Will and insecure in their friendship since the fight. He never really got a chance to apologize with everything going on, and now that Will’s leaving for Lenora it seems like their friendship is never going to be the same...

until...

“Yeah, but, what if you wanna join another party?”

This is the moment. THE MF MOMENT Mike knows he’s in love with Will!! His confident “not possible” confirms to Mike that even after all the shit they’d been through-- Mike being left behind at the snowball, pushing Will away all summer, the rain fight, and not speaking to each other after the mind flayer’s return--they are still their own separate team. It basically takes away the insecurities he had about their relationship. This simple “not possible” tells him Will still wants to play d&d together forever, and that the fight they had was just a fight... one they could come back from. It lets Mike know he’s never been crazy or stupid for thinking their bond was different, and it lets Mike think he has a chance with Will.

Mike sees El struggling for the teddy bear and decides to help. He’s still definitely thinking about Will, you can tell because of his body language. He’s super smiley, he’s fidgeting out all his excess happy adrenaline (I bet he wanted to take a victory lap after talking with Will), and even though he’s talking to El he can’t help but bring up Will in the conversation. He is so happy and care-free that he starts talking about how excited he is to open presents with Will and El on Christmas Day; this brings Mike back down to earth because he gets embarrassed for sounding like a kid and thinks he just weirded El out with his awkward ass.

He thinks El is leaving the room as he silently cringes at himself, but then she turns around and starts talking about the cabin scene. Mike knows where this is going, so he immediately starts acting clueless and like he didn’t say ily super loud. He asks “What did I say exactly” because he wants to make sure she didn’t hear ily...because that’s what he assumed when it originally happened (rewatch the cabin scene it was meant to look that way). He’s super fucking confused on why El’s walking fast towards him and suddenly in his face and--

“I love you too” *aggressively starts kissing him*

He’s in shock BIG TIME. What you all are witnessing is Mike’s worst-case scenario come true and his reaction to what was possibly the worst thing that could happen in that moment. He’s not going to kiss back, he’s still processing what the hell just happened. He’s looking at El, just standing there with her suctioned on his face, with eyes wide and a face silently screaming “What the HELL just happened?!”

After the kiss and El leaves is when it sets in.

Mike is screwed. He doesn’t have a good excuse to break up with her. He can’t say he doesn’t love her because El just said she heard him say it back at the cabin. And he couldn’t possibly explain he’s in love with Will, there’s just no way (even though she doesn’t know anything about society’s problem with queer folk)! So, he promises himself this, he’s not going to lead her on. He’s not going to say ily and he’s just going to treat her like a friend until she breaks up with him again.

The time finally comes for the Byers to leave and Mike’s really fucking sad. His bff of 5 years old/crush is going away--possibly forever. He can’t play with Will in his basement like they used to, he can’t see or talk to Will everyday like he has his whole life. Mike was just reassured by Will that their relationship will never change, after having lost him this whole season, but now it hits him he doesn’t know that for sure. He’s losing Will and El again, but this time he can’t save them.

Then we get literally the most heartbreaking montage of Hopper’s letter fitting into each character’s emotions, and ofc he says “I don’t want things to change” as Mike leaves the Byer’s empty home and “maybe that’s why I came here, to stop the change. To turn back the clock. To make things go back to how they were.” as he cries in his mom’s arms.

Mike begins his “I’m in love with Will, but I have to act like I’m not because El loves me and he doesn’t 😃” phase that plays throughout s4. But it takes a turn when he starts noticing some sus behavior from Will and realizes maybe Will does like like him. but that’s for another byler analysis.

#byler #byler proof #byler theory #everything points to byler #byler nation #byler brainrot #byler for the win #byler is real #will byers #mike wheeler #mike wheeler is gay #mike wheeler is queer #mike wheeler i know what you are #mike x will #will x mike #stranger things #st3 rewatch

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yojeongin · 3 years

Text

airbag | n.jm + l.jn

→ex fwb!na jaemin x reader | boyfriend!lee jeno x reader

genre/au: smut, angst, drama, fwb au, doomed romance

synopsis: growing tired of the life jeno has given you and finally reaching your limit after he once again put her over you; your final resort is to go back to the life he forced you to drop right next to jaemin for one last taste of happiness before your final decision.

warning(s): ADULTS ONLY, MINORS DO NOT INTERACT! cheating, alcohol, they’re all horrible people except jaemin, praise kink, nipple play, dry humping, fingering, oral, cumplay, creampie, rough sex, tit play, claim kink, cunt slapping, finger sucking, hair pulling kink.

word count: 18.6k | ao3

disclaimer: this is purely fictional; In no way am I condoning this behavior, trying to offend anyone, nor is it meant to place such image on the idol. read at your own discretion.

song(s): airbag— tablo, nobody— mitski, stuck in love— kim kyunghee, temblando— hombres g, el crucifijo — fobia

a/n: heyy I’m back ig >,< i wrote this last year for another group but I rather repost for the neos now with some fixing of stuff.

It kept buzzing. After hours upon hours, the damned cell phone kept buzzing. Was it not enough that the day was going both agonizingly slow that he kept asking for favors that in no way were meant to include you? It didn’t help that the fluorescent white lights shining above you kept blinding your gaze, causing you to look down; fidgeting with your cold fingers.

Your right leg kept on trembling, questioning why your superior had called you into his office right after it was your time to clock out. Not that you complained, the last place you wanted to be at right now is home where you knew things would easily shift between you and Jeno. By the looks of Jeno’s messages, Eunja was at the apartment wanting to feed off whatever you and Jeno had left (in most cases, your energy). It was bad enough that he didn’t do anything when his entire days were free, but when she was there— the essence of spoiled rich kids showed off and only belittled your leftover ego which the two were deflating little by little ever since knowing them.

Sighing at the thought of her being there for another day was only making your chest burn, wanting nothing but to stomp your feet against the spotlessly clean marble floor that decorated the higher floors in the building. Scrunching your face up in annoyance when you felt the buzzing again. Frustration got the best of you, allowing your hand to go inside your slack’s pocket and pulling out the device that even now that you’re holding kept buzzing.

‘y/n bring something to eat pls!!’ ‘can you pass by and get us some soda, we finished it already’ ‘baby!!! are you almost here? we’re hungry!’ ‘ja wants fries from ralphie’s bring her some’ ‘omfg weren’t you supposed to get out now?!’ ‘aish okay, take your time we found some of your sweet bread’

It hadn’t been a week that you had gone grocery shopping and most of the food was already gone. On top of that, it was always the same routine of them asking you to bring them food when they knew you were done with doing so. It has been years since you tried to be liked by the two. Even if Jeno was your boyfriend, things weren’t quite the same. Nonetheless, the least he could’ve done was add a please to everything he ordered. It was exactly that: an order and not a question.

As if your sole life purpose was to become their damn Ubereats whenever they called for you without any sort of tip or charge for delivery. In fact, they didn’t even pay for the food! You were worse than an Ubereats driver, at least they were granted an adequate pay compared to the free labor that would only grant you an: ‘Oh… but the Ralphie’s near here isn’t good. I guess your salary isn't cut to go to a farther one.’ To be followed by Jeno ignoring the entire scene to avoid conflict.

“Ms. y/l/n? Please come in.” At the sweet sound of your superior’s secretary’s voice; your head jolted up, looking at her before returning the smile and leaving your previous spot. Nodding in response after standing up to follow her, you kept your phone at hand, rushing to turn on the ‘do not disturb’ feature— just to get rid of Jeno for a few more minutes.

To be exact the waiting room did seem fairly far from the Superior’s office. Having to go through cubicles of stressed salary workers that analyze the mistakes they had made on the blueprints. Just to avoid being screamed at by the superior himself. It didn’t help that they all kept staring at you and Adina while you passed by, their stares making you fear that maybe, just maybe, this was the end of your easily given career.

You couldn’t say you weren’t scared of the superior. Of course you were, he was your ultimate boss after all, but never to the extent and distress these people were facing. Even if you had to visit him often whenever your floor manager deemed your blueprints and propositions adequate. So, was he that bad?

Her knuckles fell gracefully against the dark wooden door. It wasn’t closed, only slightly agape, enough to know you were going inside even without his words. His confirmation was still valid, therefore once his low husky voice told Adina and you to come in, she pushed the door further open. Signaling with her hand to go inside as her other hand held the handle to the door, closing it behind you. Leaving the both alone.

“Have a seat, y/n.” It was rather lifeless, he kept on looking through files and signing the ones highlighted in yellow. Writing down words you couldn’t see from your position. It didn’t take long until he placed his pen down and looked up at you with a blank expression. Out of custom, you broke a small smile, tight-lipped which only grew when he reciprocated the smile.

A sigh left his nostrils, back against the chair, and fingers intertwining. “You seem a bit tense… don’t worry, it's nothing bad.” Sure enough, it eased you, but even those words could have a different meaning for him than to you.

“Jungwan was speaking rather highly of your most recent Blueprint. The plan for the new mall—“ He could tell that made you feel better about being in his office. Your shoulders relax as you try to hide your ever-growing smile. “It’s a very interesting piece that will definitely get you recognized across the entire country, y/n. I do have to say that, but—“

‘But’ a but was never good in this field…

“Wouldn’t you want your work to be recognized internationally as well?” There it was: the hook to his essay. A horrible hook but it created anticipation for those already nervously intrigued.

You didn’t think about it. Of course, you wanted to be known internationally, summer had turned five years since you started working at that company. Was it not for Jeno’s father’s recommendation, you probably wouldn’t be there so easily straight out of college.

Many of your former classmates still struggled to maintain a job or even find one in their respective fields. So upon hearing your superior’s catching words, you felt the joy rush through you. “I’d very much like that.” Your smile was wide now, cheeks threatening to heat up from the stretched and aching face muscles if he kept on throwing compliments and interesting questions like this, your way.

Chuckling at your childish look, he nodded. “As you’ve probably heard, our company has begun a partnership with ‘FR-EE” You zoned out what had followed. Of course, you heard about it, that’s all your coworkers talked about lately. Despite many not seeing the purpose of working with a Latin American company, they also believed it would be a great start to their recognition— recognition that they craved after being in this firm for more time than you have.

Was it not for your time spent on working with your Mall blueprints, perhaps you would’ve worked something out to offer your superior now that he was right in front of you.

“So?” “Huh?”

God, you idiot.

Blinking at your first mistake, you shifted on the edge of your seat, trying to recollect what you did hear. “A-are you offering me to consider the project?” You question trying to make him rehearse his words again without really asking him.

“I’m offering you to be the head of the project. I know you’re skilled when it comes to your knowledge of Spanish and your work speaks for itself when it comes to talent. FR-EE themselves are very unique with their work and after sending them your portfolio— you’re a very strong candidate… actually, they want you, specifically.”

His fingers had stopped holding each other. Instead, his hands flayed in the air as he kept talking about the project. You adored his words, they sounded so beautiful but at the same time so unrealistic.

Hell, making a blueprint for this new project could take months to a year and from what you heard, they needed the architect sent off already. You didn’t even have a plan or idea for this and the construction of the mall would start in less than a month. It was your project, your baby— you wanted to be there for it, not do something you weren’t quite passionate about.

“It sounds very promising, it does. I just don’t see why me specifically. The construction of the mall starts very soon and it is my first major project… I want to be here for it.” His smile dropped, it became a slanted grimace. “I understand it’s the start of it all, but wouldn’t it be better to have two starts?”

Leaning against his desk now, his eyes didn’t leave your face. “I like you, y/n… I do. You’ve been a great employee, always listening to criticism well, owning up to your mistakes, getting along well with other workers, and Mr. Lee’s recommendation seems to be the cherry on top.”

There it was. He acknowledges your effort in the office but not your struggles to get where you are now. Sure, Mr. Lee’s recommendation was held to a high standard given he’s in the top five richest men of the country but he’s also a supporter of the arts. Donating and investing in this firm specifically for most of the projects. If you didn’t know better, this man or anyone in this office could be sucking up to you as they know you’re openly dating Jeno. The man’s only child.

Of course, it didn’t mean everyone was like that. You’d have a few people hating you for it, believing you were truly undeserving of everything you got, especially the evident privileges. Some who’ve been here longer, hating the idea of you getting big projects with only five years of working there. Those who already had a plan for this project would only feel more defeated knowing their Superior was trying to give such a project to someone who didn’t even try to work on it nor cared for it.

“I don’t even have a plan or blueprint for it. I’ve been so focused on the mall that I didn’t dare consider this one. I don’t even have a working visa for it… Wouldn’t it be better to offer this to someone who is prepared?” Eyebrows kneaded, you looked at him, worried about what he’d say. You were trying to reject his offer the easiest and nicest way possible.

Sometimes rushing into power and recognition didn’t end well.

He nodded allowing more of his sighs to leave through his nostrils, sun-kissed tanned skin shining with natural oils. “Think about, please.” His eyebrows rose, looking at you in hopes that you would. “Think about it very well and let me know by next week so I can have FR-EE make the visa application on your behalf and have it ready in a month. Does that sound good?” You couldn’t do anything but nod, holding onto your sweater for self-comfort.

Standing from the stiff chair in which you only sat on the corner of, you walked to the door. Were you really going to consider it? You didn’t even want this but his words were either pushy or just very persuasive.

“Before you leave, make sure to send me a digital blueprint copy of the mall. I’ll make sure you’re still in charge in case you do decide to take my offer.” Turning to look at him, you nod at his words, turning the handle to open the door. “Yes, sir.”

Upon entering the heavy steel doors of the elevator, you cornered yourself by the buttons, rushing to press the closing doors button so you could stand in distress on your own. But the damned doors decided to punish you for being an entitled brat whose path has been easy so far and your only struggle is creatively.

“Wait, wait!” God, no— these doors couldn’t take their time any longer. Just as they began to shut, the squeaky clean black shoe came in between the doors. That ever so unforgettable chuckle made you shut your eyes, squeezing them until you hoped tears would spill.

“Were you trying to leave me out?” He was joking, his smile wide as he spoke to you. “Hey, Jaemin...'' Turning to look at him didn’t help you in trying to avoid him. “Uhh, no… I just didn’t see you coming this way.” He nodded, understanding what you meant. Standing straight beside you in joy compared to your moping slouching body, he couldn’t help but question what was wrong. Even his facial expression changed to one of worry.

Shifting to face you, your body barely standing on its own, his lips parted. “Did something happen?” You turned to look at him. You didn’t respond despite your words pushing against your lips to let them out. You opted to shake your head, straightening your body just to get him off your case.

“No, just a bit exhausted.” You smiled kindly to which he returned. “I imagine. Your building is going to start construction soon, how are you feeling?” His hands clung to the briefcase in his hands. He was only a paid intern who helped fix minor problems in the rough drafts and mainly worked as the coffee boy for your floor but he ported himself with pride. After all, the poor boy struggled to at least get that position after graduation. Not even, it took him multiple part-time jobs at food joints and local stores until just a year and a half to settle a job in the firm.

“Ah, I see… Perhaps you’d want to get some dinner? I’m off already, so?” He was so sweet. So tooth-achingly sweet and you hated it. Why did he always have to be like this? Even in college, he’d make you sick with it.

Giggling at his proposition, you shook your head looking at your feet. “That’d be nice but I have to send a digital copy of my blueprints to the big man and Jeno keeps pestering me to get home already so he probably wants something.” Your slanted smile didn’t satisfy him. He knew you weren’t looking forward to it but of course, he had no right to stop you.

Tight-lipped smile, he nodded bouncing on his heels. “Understandable, let me know if you change your mind though.” Smiling at you again, cocking his head to the side with perfect timing as the elevator dinged, opening the doors to your floor. Waving goodbye to him, you stepped out without a clue that he’d continue the chain of moping in the elevator, head clinging to the steel interior.

Even after years he couldn’t learn how to erase all that happened.

No one paid further attention to you; working on some paperwork and models to propose a better arrangement for a park. Going to your cubicle, the sight of the rolled-up prints your cubicle partner had worked on for the past four months began haunting you. This is what you were thinking about when your superior offered you to be the head of the FR-EE project. A project you didn’t know what it was about.

The countless hours Geunhye had spent on this print, going often to Mr. Kim, your floor manager, so he could give her feedback on something you assumed he already knew would be yours. Your body involuntarily dragged itself to them, fingers gracing the delicate paper. Was it not for the clanking of heels coming near your cubicle, you would’ve unraveled the magnificence your partner often creates.

“Oh great, he let you out already? What did he want to talk about?” A smile settled on her face, pushing her rolling chair to the side just to grab her prints and unroll them in front of you. It was what you expected: magnificence. Where would all that work go if you accepted your superior’s proposition? To hell, just like you would.

“Nothing major, just wants a digital copy of the blueprints.” Your voice was so down that she obviously could tell something was up, but given that your computer kept buzzing as iMessages was connected to it, she could only expect it was Jeno draining the life out of you.

“Ah… you’re off already, right?” You nodded, having her watch over your shoulder as you muted the computer and even turned on ‘do not disturb’ just so Jeno could shut up. “Yeah, wanted something?” You asked, locating your files of blueprints before finding the one for the mall.

Geunhye shook her head as if you were looking at her, “No, just wondering… did he say anything about who’s getting the promotion? You know working for the firm in Mexico?” Her smile rose again, you didn’t see it but you could imagine it through the way she spoke, she was ecstatic about it.

Swiveling in your seat to face her, you looked at her features. Smile staying on her face, waiting for your answer. “No, not really. He was just trying to get it over with. You know, a man of few words.” She nodded on her way to look at her prints. He wasn’t a man of few words, at least not with you, but you weren’t trying to brag about the situation to someone who wants what is being handed to you.

Turning back to your desk, you made a few last clicks to mail the prints to your superior. Letting a sigh silently leave your lips, you shut off all your devices, shoving them to your bag before pushing yourself off the seat to give out a simple ‘See you tomorrow.’ for Geunhye and speed walk to the elevator, hoping this time you could mope on your own.

From that point on forward, things went monotonously smooth. You began running the errands you told yourself you wouldn’t run for the sake of Jeno and Eunja, but here you were drowning their voices from your head with the blasting music on your Bluetooth. Driving from place to place just to get what they wanted. Yes, you complained but in the end, it was kind of clear who held all the strings here. At least to avoid conflict.

The city flashed by in scenes as you drove looking forward to singing in your head from time to time, adoring most when you held no thoughts. Those were the small moments in life that you never took for granted. They worked as your relaxation time and the only time you could fully have to yourself.

So whenever the familiar buildings kept piling up one by one, the clenching of your chest only tightened up on the daily. Feeling as if one of these days you’d completely come to your limit. Never did it ease until you fell asleep and only grew whenever your car was inside the building’s parking garage.

Flickering bright white lights that resembled the ones in your workplace along with the silence that rather than eased you, only made the pain grow. You hadn’t gotten out of the car after finding a spot.Going home had become dreadful and it was something you were extremely loathing as of now.

Hands clutching the steering wheel, looking ahead, and feet planted on the floor of your car— a fit broke loose. Abnormal noises that you only let out when upset were being voiced. Your feet instead of planted were slamming against the poor floor below them and your hands at most grasped your hair wishing to rip it out.

You truly did hate coming home. You hated seeing Jeno. You hated Eunja. You hated how messy the apartment was. You hated how loud it was. You hated the apartment. You hated them. You hated yourself.

If you hadn’t learned from previous experiences, by seeing the bags of minimum groceries— a groan escaped your lips knowing very well Jeno wouldn’t even dare take the elevator downstairs just to help you with the groceries. Pulling your metaphorically tough-girl panties up, you got out of the car and walked to the back to open the trunk. Was it not for the reusable bags in which you threw in most of the stuff without a care if they’d go up damaged, you would’ve struggled more than you already are. Besides, more than one trip would’ve gone at hand.

“Fucking hate them…” you whined to yourself the moment the first strap clung onto your forearm, feeling how heavy it was for no damn reason when all you were carrying were some stuff the two idiots upstairs had asked for. With the last bag in hand, pushing the button that automatically shuts the back door for you, and keys at hand to lock the car— you trudged inside the building. Ignoring the gray concrete of the garage and walking towards the glass room that separates the building and outdoors; seeing the change of location but not feeling.

All just as gloomy and dry.

For some reason, the lights inside the building were much brighter, almost similar to the ones at a hospital. The ones that blind you until you’re tired of them and either decide to leave the building or force yourself to ignore them and go on with your day as if they weren’t a bother… ironically.

The silence was overwhelming, not pleasant. You could feel the vibration of your feet against the carpeted hallway as you took the path towards the elevator. Jisung, the concierge, wasn't at his desk like usual. Perhaps his shift hadn’t started yet but despite that, you always seemed to miss his welcoming smile and words.

It became a custom at this point that he out of many people you met, was one to always comfort you with simple gestures. He was still in college and the boy was bright about his future, even when he handed you the mail and you peeked at his desk to look at his difficult work, he never found it to be a drag. Maybe if he was at his desk right now, he'd offer to help you with the bags to your apartment, but in the meantime, you have no choice but to fend for yourself.

Unlike the Divine Comedy in terms of Inferno, your hell rose rather than descending. As Dante had fallen from layer to layer seeing the worst; you ascended floor by floor. Feeling worse and worse. The gravitational contrast from the elevator going up working as the factor of discomfort like Dante’s was the fall. Fortunately, the ride up felt long and so did the walk down the corridor to your apartment door. Nonetheless the pretentious comparison stands.

Hesitance was only present the moment you came face to face with the black door in front of you. It was obvious what you would walk into and that small part of you that still cared for Jeno was only going to keep getting hurt.

Not even the ruckus of the television that was easily heard outside the flat was helping you try to form any other wholesome ideas of what was on the other side. Either way, you couldn’t stay out there for much longer, the burning scraping of the straps against your arms was causing harm and you couldn’t keep adding any more pain.

Fingertips forcefully pushing against the number pad to unlock the apartment, a defeated sigh left your lips the moment you saw how in shambles the living room and diner area were. Even the kitchen was a disgusting mess and the protruding smell of takeout was filling the whole section.

It didn’t help that when you opened the door, Eunja sat straddling Jeno’s chest and his hands rested on her exposed thighs. Only the flimsy cotton underwear she wore was separating their contact. Not even in your own home could you expect them to keep it a secret.

No, it doesn’t matter at this point.

Eunja didn’t bother getting off of him when the two heard you shut the door behind you. At this point, it was so common for you to find the two in this situation that she had given up trying to act like they hadn’t done anything (the smell of takeout wasn’t the only thing lingering). Jeno on the other hand, pushed her off of him, trying to stand from his position. Not noticing how nonchalant you had just turned your back to them to properly lock the door, having the hallway light barely shine on you.

“Hey!“ “Hey…” your soft and elongated greeting as he came to you.

“Did you cook anything?” You questioned turning to look at him this time as the smell of something burnt added to the stench of takeout. It was weird; lately, he had been nicer to you. Not that he already wasn’t but maybe the guilt only grew by the minute and this month he was getting overwhelmed by it. He shook his head with a tight-lipped smile trying to ignore the burnt cake in the trash can that the two tried to bake but failed extremely miserably.

Walking closer to you and taking the bags from your noticeable aching arms. “Thank you…” You whispered, placing your workload on the kitchen bar to rub at the marks done by the straps. “No, we’re going to order pizza instead.” He comments, watching you scowl at the choice of consumption.

From the background you heard Eunja scoff at your expression, sitting up from her position on the couch and walking to the high chairs in front of the bar where you left your items. “What do you prefer to eat, princess?” Her knees kept bumping against the wall, her face came in contact with the palm of her hand as she watched you and Jeno put away the things they asked for. “Perhaps a better meal… We've eaten nothing but takeout food.” You answered looking at her with the same look of disgust she held for you.

Eunja groaned, head tilting to pout at Jeno who didn’t give her a response of solidarity. “It’s not our fault that we don’t put on weight as easily by eating this way. We’ll get you something from the healthy section or something, okay?” She had obtained what she wanted: to cause frustration inside of you, causing you to turn and glare at her.

“What’s that supposed to mean?!”

“What do you think it means, architect?”

Defiance laced in both of your tongues, glares straight forward as you both pierced each other. Jeno to avoid the conflict behind him as the two of you began your daily bickering continued putting away the groceries you had bought for them. Was he guilty in a way? Yes.

He knew how tired of him you had grown but still, you were there getting things for him and Eunja even when the two of you were full-on bickering ready to kill each other. Knowing how bored you were growing and how easy life was with you, he had to find a way to keep you with him regardless.

“Why are you even worrying about me? Worry about your trust funds or lack thereof?!” You growled at Eunja as she had risen from her seat, walking closer to you angered at how you had just called out the tip of her personal problems out of spite. Gasping at your response, the redness of her face was now glowing. “Jeno, say something!” She whined, turning to the man whose head was now hanging low in hatred of how easily she had involved him, wanting nothing but to just put away the groceries. Rolling your eyes was all you could do now that she was bringing him in.

Jeno didn’t want to say anything. He didn’t even want to be in this situation but he was always dragged into it and with trying to keep you with him as long as he could, it also didn’t help that he didn’t want to upset his best friend.

So what would he do? Of course like the idiot he is, he took longevity over intimacy, looking at you with puppy eyes hoping you’d fall submissive to him like you once used to.

Scowling at his actions, with your phone at hand and confused as to what he wanted. “The fuck are you looking at?” You questioned, arms crossed over your chest, not letting the expression fall from your face. With a sigh, he took your hand into his, pleading in silence to just drop it as if it was your fault it all started.

“Just please drop it… Order anything you want, I’ll pay for you but just don’t keep on—”

“Keep on what?!”

It was so obvious what he wanted to say. He was blaming you for this just because she whined like the five-year-old he used to know so long ago but now you were all adults and it seems neither he or she understood that.

“y/n-ie…” He wanted to whine too, throw a tantrum, or whatever but what he did know is that things were rather peaceful without you there. “Just don’t continue arguing, It’s not going anywhere and it doesn’t look good on you.” His lips pouted as if what he just had said was the correct thing to say.

Looking between the two as Eunja grinned and Jeno pleadingly looked at you, you shook your hand, letting his hand drop from your own. It was always the same damn shit with them. No matter how wrong one of them could be, they’ll always have each other's backs and how things have gone today apart from your boss’ offer, you weren’t going to stand for it.

Shaking your head at the two of them with a smile and laugh leaving your lips, you took your purse from the bar. Said action was causing panic inside of Jeno, questioning where it had gone wrong to cause you to grab your stuff. “Not even in my damn house can I have a second of peace.”

As long as you were only storming into the mess of a room you both shared, he was fine. It wasn’t until he saw you going to the door and sliding into the most comfortable shoes you had at the front of your home that he began chasing you around like a lost puppy.

“No, wait! Where are you going?!” Distress laced Jeno’s voice, following behind you, watching all your actions. “You’re both so fucking infuriating and exhausting. I literally can’t bear being near either of you..” foot sliding inside the shoe as you pulled your phone out of your pocket. “And I don’t plan on dealing with you two tonight.” Dialing the number you knew too well after all this time, you placed your phone against your ear and cheek hoping the other line would open quickly.

Walking around the front door, your shoulder knocked into his— leaving the lingering pain on you and him. To avoid apologizing as you weren’t really sorry, your eyes only glared into his, making him become smaller in his spot.

Jeno didn’t try to hold you off, he just watched you walk outside the apartment with loose-fitting flats and your purse strap resting against the aching arm he didn’t try to aid earlier to which he aided his aching shoulder instead.

The stomping of your flat cladded feet against the carpeted halls was annoying you, rushing to put them on properly to which you failed to make them comfortable so all you could feel was the elastic clinging onto your ankles.

To say the least, you weren’t wrong about Jeno and Eunja being exhausting. To an extent, you could tolerate them but it was coming to the point in which you couldn’t handle being around them anymore. They repulsed you and this small discussion, though it might seem like it wasn’t pleasant, was a god-given gift knowing you could be away from them again.

Home wasn’t home anymore.

“Hello?”

The ringing on the other line had stopped, allowing you to feel at ease; stopping in your tracks before reaching the elevator. “Jaem? Are you busy right now?” Your voice was soft and meek, lifting your left arm to where the strap of your purse could uncomfortably be arranged against your shoulder. Continuing your walk to the elevator, it had just dinged signaling the opening of the steel doors before you.

Jaemin on the other line cleared his throat, looking around his place in hopes you would ask to meet up. “Uhh… no, not at all. Is something up?” He waited for your response, the static silence of the elevator and the dinging. He wasn’t sure if you were leaving your building or already in his and going up the stairs to his apartment but that was a far fetched idea.

You haven’t been in his apartment complex since a little after you started dating Jeno, doubtfully you would remember what floor let alone which apartment number and combination it was.

“You still up for dinner?”

A chuckle. That’s what left your lips as you lifted your head to see if the front desk was occupied. It was; Jisung was sitting there with a wide smile upon hearing your voice. Was it not for the call he would’ve spoken loudly but instead he smiled and waved at you as you left for the garage.

Smiling to himself, Jaemin bit his thumb in a sort of excitement. “Yeah, totally. Where do you want to meet?”“Your place.”

It felt static, the silence flooding his home with only the sound of cars driving by. “That’s okay, right?...” Stuttering worry in your voice caused him to break out of it. Nodding as if you could see him. “Yeah! Yeah, that’s fine… I’ll order some take out.” Gulping down his embarrassment, he could still faintly hear your giggle whilst you opened the door to your car, hopping into it with only one place in mind.

“I hope you have some alcohol at hand, I’d hate for you to get something greasy and not even treat me to a cold beer.” The ambient was obviously thick. You two knew that already.

“Calm down, Ai. I have enough drinks for us.”

He didn’t want to say it, in fact it came out naturally. Natural as in the ghost of the past had taken over his speaking and muttered the word.

He shouldn’t have called you ‘Ai’ not after how bitter the last time he said it sounded. Looking down at his feet he could only come to the conclusion that he had gotten carried away. Perhaps saying the word was reassuring him of the stiff silence.

“I’m not too far. Same pin, right? 0705?” Your brilliant memory made up for your disregard of the nickname. He didn’t want to admit it but it actually felt painful having you ignore something that once meant quite a lot.

Clearly, many unresolved issues were still on the surface.

In order to hide his thoughts, Jaemin chuckled letting you know it was right. “Yep! Guess I need to stop undermining you. I’ll let you go, I have to order the food.” He didn’t even let you mutter goodbye. In fact Jaemin was already feeling some heaviness weighing him down with just talking to you longer than those quick coffee and copy run-ins at the firm where all you two could say was a quick hello and ask how each other’s day was going.

To be quite honest— there was so much you two haven’t known since graduation. You two are practically strangers once again.

You couldn’t deny your thoughts were eating you up even more. Why would he even think calling you that once again was okay? What had gone through his head to think he could just bring it up again? Despite you going to his place again many years later, you couldn’t stop feeling guilty— as if you were betraying Jeno. Fuck, you even argued over takeout and now you’re going to eat it with someone Jeno can’t stand to see.

The hues of the sky were getting darker by the minute and the street lights were turning on, making the traffic lights seem more brighter than they just were. The bright red turned into the neon green, directing you towards his apartment building. Quite honestly you were surprised he still hasn't moved out. From what you remember it wasn’t big enough, he had to move around a lot just to walk from the bed to the kitchen in the tiny studio.

A part of you wanted him to say “Oh, it’s a new building.” But that same selfish part that was driving you towards the building in hopes to at least have comfort in him, was glad that he didn’t tell you those words. There was a sense of peace to know he hadn’t moved out and his pin number was still the date you two met on. Even if it meant that he was clinging onto empty air.

Taking a last right onto the parking lot in front of the building, you didn’t find it difficult to get a parking spot. After all, most of the people who stayed in this building were students, elderly, and those with part-time jobs, making it difficult to afford a car— let alone fill the spots. Naturally though, a few cars would be spread around to fill in some gaps. At least you were lucky enough to fill the one next to his.

Looking back to grab your purse, seeing Jeno’s sweater caused something to spark in you. Whether it was guilt or fear, you couldn’t pin it. It’s not like you were going to do anything with Jaemin. It was only a friendly dinner with an old friend that you lost because of— because of Jeno.

That was enough to set you off. The guilt that rummaged your chest was now filled with anger you felt against him. You could just imagine him shrugging after you left and going back to Eunja straddling him, as if there was nothing wrong with it. With a huff, you took the sweater, throwing it to the floor. Hoping a demon from under the passenger’s seat would swallow the sins that sweater held.

Clutching the strap of your purse, you opened the door, getting out of the car in a rush that you couldn’t quite explain. The cars kept driving by, not allowing the crosswalk light to turn green. Sure it didn’t work that way but something in your chest made it all seem like that.

In the moment you swore that the feeling of desperation and greed was to catch up with Jaemin but thinking about it now, it was obvious you missed him and his comfort. There was a safe haven when you were with him, something that not even Jeno could ever fill.

Your steps were heavy the moment the light turned green, speed walking towards the entrance of the building and rushing up the stairs. Some type of regret did come the moment you easily became exhausted when going up. You still cursed him for not choosing a building with an elevator, but after all it was an older building.

“God, why doesn’t he just move…” Uttering to yourself as you took a hold of the railing, fearing that you’ll fall back if you don’t grab it this time. The walk was tiring, only he would want to live on the fourth floor but considering the time he rented it out, it was fairly cheap given that no one wanted to live up there and struggle with furniture. Once again all he had was his mattress and clothes. Thinking about it now… Was it really worth moving into the big city, Jaemin?

You wanted to knock, you wanted your knuckles to vibrate against the wooden door or even ring the doorbell next to your head but the familiar feeling that you had buried so long ago was rising from the dead. Pushing away all you felt as you looked at the pin pad, your fingers not even hesitating when punching in the numbers, feeling the familiar bump of the keys against your pads.

Upon hearing the click of the door and the little red dot turn green, despite your eyesight focused on your feet, the familiar rumbling chuckle welcomed you in. Causing your head to lift itself up, firstly noticing the warming smile.

“Welcome home, Ai.”

“Sorry the food isn’t here yet, I ordered some fried chicken since you wanted beer and well… go on, sit down.” He was smiling widely for your liking. Perhaps all this time you thought the guilt was from coming here after fighting with Jeno and knowing he didn’t want you here ever again but to be completely honest, it was the guilt of bitterly kicking Jaemin around the curb like the unwanted puppy he was at the time. He still had his boyish charm and… it wasn’t good.

Regaining composure, you shook your head while you took off your shoes at the front of his door. Was it not because you saw those familiar butterfly slippers he had gotten you the night you had stepped on a mud puddle a night after drinking— you would’ve gone bare foot.

Jaemin seemed to have noticed your disdain for the slippers, smiling at you when you turned to face him. He could’ve said something, an excuse as to why he hadn’t thrown them out after years, but here he was warmly smiling at you as he walked to the fridge, pulling out two cans of beer.

“Your place looks bigger than last time I saw it, did you do something?” You question upon sliding the slippers on, feeling the softness of the material. Jaemin nodded as he handed you your can, walking towards the small couch against the wall next to the kitchen. “Decluttered. I figured I would get rid of the dinner table and just get a coffee table.” Yeah, that was it, but something else was missing.

Looking around as you set your can on a coaster he had laying around, your eyes began searching for what he was missing. Upon analyzing, the posters he had on his walls were gone. His books as well and that’s when the small shelf you three had built up was missing, even the butterfly figurines he collected were gone.

“You got rid of your mattress, huh? What? Cum stains ruined it?” You were only joking, you couldn’t bring yourself to question why he had gotten rid of them. Reminiscing on your past words, you’d hate to think it was because of you. It honestly would ruin you if you were the reason he lost track of his own folktales.

Jaemin laughed, covering his face in embarrassment. “It’s not like that!” He’d try to defend. “Oh come on, after everything and your thing for creampi—” You had to catch yourself. You haven’t been here for less than ten minutes and you were already ruining it all.

“Sorry…”

He couldn’t understand you. One moment you were playing along, teasing him for his kinks, and the next a sudden despondence filled you when talking about the past. Perhaps that was it, the past you had with him was nothing but bitter now and he knew it. Your short answers when at work and your demeanor now— you had to feel some type of way towards him to feel some obvious guilt.

Jaemin couldn’t be more thankful for the doorbell ringing. If it hadn’t caused a distraction, he would probably end up telling you that he got rid of it because it smelt of you and he didn’t want to hurt anymore but here you were once again, nearly six years later. Intoxicating his living space once again with the what if of never having introduced you to Jeno.

“Thank you.” His voice boomed in your ears, something about Jaemin kept you there even after embarrassing yourself like this. On your way here and to these minutes of awkwardness, the clock had hit seven and it only kept going by faster.

Seeing him take in the plastic bags of food, you felt it was natural to help him. Standing from your position on the couch, you walked closer to him, taking the bag of side dishes. “Excited about the mall?” Jaemin asks, pulling the coffee table closer to the sofa so neither of you would have to crouch to get food.

His mention of the mall didn’t quite help your situation. Remembering how the mentions of being handed a project was making the ache in your chest twist. “Actually, I still don’t know if I’ll be there for the construction…” God, would this night get any more sad?

Jaemin’s eyebrows knitted hearing you, rummaging through the bags and finding the utensils. Taking out a box of spicy honey glazed chicken, he picked at a small piece before handing you the box. “Why?”

All he could do was look pretty and eat while asking questions.

“The big man offered me that job in Mexico… he said the company wants me specifically but I just think he’s using me as an excuse to make Mr. Lee spend more money on the firm and their projects.”

“You got that right.” He scoffed, taking a pickled radish and stuffing it into his mouth once he felt the heat of the spice, causing you to grimace knowing that was karma for his words. “Hey! Don’t agree with me!” Shoving his arm lightly, he laughed at your actions and words.

“Come on, think about it. Every time I see him talk with you he’s smiling so hard that he might pull a muscle. He also mentions Mr. Lee from time to time. Either he wants the money by buttering you up or something else, hell he might want Mr. Lee for something else.” With a wink you laughed at his stupid joke. Either or could be but you settled for the money. There’s no way you could see yourself with that man.

Picking at the same box of chicken he had handed you, you placed the small piece in your mouth before turning to look at him. He was looking through the sides, making sure his order was the way he wanted. It’s not like he would call and complain, he was a coward after all.

“Have you considered it though? I do think it would look good for you to start working on international projects right after one at home. Just think about it! Top Young Architects— No! Hot Architects under 30!”

You laughed at him that night, missing his jokes and the entertainment in your life. Though he tried convincing himself to be jealous of your quick success, he only found himself proud of what you were doing. He wanted to be mad at you, he wanted to hate you after that night but he couldn’t bring himself to do so. Not when he felt like he did right now.

“Before I left he sent me an email talking about how I could take someone with me, if I do go— Would you go with me?” That was a dangerous question. You knew it was dangerous and so did he. Even if you knew the answer there was no way; Jaemin wouldn’t try to mask what he felt.

Laughing as he shook his head, Jaemin took a piece of the chicken from the box you held. “I’m an intern, y/n. Choose someone who’s an actual architect.” His arm was resting on the head of the couch, almost wrapping around your shoulders if he’d want to. “You are a real architect… If anyone then I want you there with me.”

Why did you have to be such a brat at all times! The way he turned his head to face you, his eyes dark and lips shut tight as your pout diminished with his strong gaze. “You’re not even done with the first can and you’re already on it? Ai, what made you a lightweight all of a sudden?”

His eyebrow raised again as he stood from his position, the warmth from his body leaving with him as he crouched down to the fridge under the cabinets. You couldn’t help but miss his warmth despite him being in the same room. “Whatever, I don’t want to go either way.” You whispered through your pout, Jaemin’s head hung low when he heard you.

Time was going by too fast, not long ago it was seven, now it was nearly 9:48 at night. Even when your conversation seemed short and simple, too many silent words were spoken in between. You could never be quiet with Jaemin. Due to that, you believed that was the reason Jeno had made you slowly part ways from him.

You could never understand how that night you had found yourself in his arms without action. Sprawled on the couch with your back against his chest the two of you had convinced each other that nothing would come from just being held. He had turned the TV on not long after your third can and your insistence on singing karaoke without a machine. Now all that was left were the melancholic instrumentals with lyrics reading across the screen.

His fingers raked against your cold arms as he held you closer to him. Jaemin didn’t have to speak to let you know how he was feeling, even when you two ignored it. “Is there a reason you changed your mind and came here tonight?” His breath tickled against your neck, your fingers wanting to take his and tangle them together.

“I can’t stand Jeno anymore…he repulses me.” The heavy sigh of relief that left your lips worried him. He could feel you recoiling against him as you continued. “I can’t stand Eunja. I can’t stand that apartment, it’s cold, ugly, dirty, messy, and stinky. Sunlight doesn’t even come inside which makes it more depressing than it is.” You clutched his shirt, your nails softly scratching his chest.

The moment you stopped talking, his arms wrapped around you. “I don’t understand why he won’t end it when he’s been fucking her when I’m not there. It’s not like he loves me, I know he doesn’t…” Rage. The rage that once filled you was filling him. How careless could Jeno be to not even hide his affairs from you, especially with someone you know means a lot to Jeno.

“Why don’t you end it?” Shifting to look up at him, Jaemin didn’t bother looking down at you, only reaching for the can of beer he had on the table, taking in every last bit of liquid. “I guess I’m just as much of a coward as him…” You weren’t wrong, you were a coward and Jeno was a safe bet. His parents completed your life and built it. It was more for the reason that you didn’t want to seem ungrateful to them.

“That you are.”

Why did he always have to agree with what you said?!

“God, you don’t have to tell me as if I need reassurance! I should just go home…” Jaemin didn’t try to follow up on it, he knew you were becoming weaker with your thoughts. “Okay... I’ll call you a cab.” Shaking your head, you stood from your position. “I’m not drunk, I can still drive.” Jaemin laughed as he took his phone out. “Sure, Ai.”

“Stop calling me that! I don’t deserve to still be called that.”

Putting his phone back in his pocket, Jaemin looked at you, trying to meet your gaze and understand if you meant it. “Okay, I will...” Why is he so complacent!

“Would you stop agreeing with me?!”

“Then what do you want from me?” Jaemin was too calm and collected while muttering those words. He knew you were only in the heat of the moment due to your running thoughts and alcohol filled body. Looking up at him and finally meeting his eyes, your own softened.“I— nothing, I’m sorry...”

Jaemin smiles at you in reassurance that it was fine. Helping you put on your sweater knowing you were heading out already. Nothing could break the silence that locked itself around both of you after putting away the butterfly slippers. The walk down the stairs and out the building filled with the silence of your steps and those neighbors loud enough. Even by the clanking of mom and pop, take out dishes left out by the stairs.

It was chilly by the time you both had gone outside and caught the cab already parked outside. Just as bitter, this goodbye was. Watching him pull his hand out of his pockets just to freezingly wave goodbye and you to show him an apologetic smile for leaving him again. It brought memories, ranging from good to worse and you’re at least glad to say this was an added one to the calmly painful folder.

“Hey—”

His voice was rough, the lack of talking had made him clear his throat, smiling at you with embarrassment.

“Yeah?” “He doesn’t treat you right but I will.”

Shocking to know he still believed so. A gasp left your lips, you weren’t expecting it but it did partially fill the void he had created many years ago.

Your lips turned from gaping to a satisfied smile, nodding his way. “Go to sleep, Jaem.” He chuckles, watching you get inside the cab and have it drive you away to your inferno. There was some guilt in him after sending you off but he knew he’d feel guilty even if he didn’t send you off.

That cab ride you couldn’t stop thinking of what he thought about after sending you off. As much as you were worried about Jaemin’s mindset after having you in his home once again after six years, you hated the idea of Jeno finding out as if he had cared about you finding out about him and Eunja.

“How much would it be?” The cab ride was faster than when you had driven there yourself but then again, this time you didn’t have to worry about causing any accidents. The man only shook his head, “The sir you were with paid already. Have a nice night.” He didn’t even leave you time to give him a tip before he had driven off once you were out.

Sighing to yourself as your grasp on your purse loosened, you walked inside the building, smiling at Jisung as he enthusiastically greeted you. “Aren’t you tired?” You questioned with a giggle as he pressed the buttons to your floor.

“Yeah, but it’s my job to be friendly.” He smiled watching you go in. “You know, if I find out you’ve been acting with me— I’ll be heartbroken.” His face turned a shade of red you hadn’t seen before. The moment he saw your pout and saddened face he shook his head trying to assure you that he liked you enough to not fake your friendship.

He was a puppy dog after all.

Smiling at him as you ruffled his head, waving upon seeing the doors close, leaving you with your thoughts again. Jeno hadn’t slept that night, he wouldn’t have slept this early to be exact but after doing what he did with Eunja it was only natural they both would fall asleep right after. How hypocritical.

Eunja had fallen asleep on the couch right after, leaving Jeno to wait for you. He did find it weird seeing you get off a cab. After all he knew you took your car and when he didn’t see it pass all this time he stood by the window waiting for you, some sort of panic was filling him.

He heard you punch in the numbers onto the pin pad. If it wasn’t for his urgent need to see you as if he hadn’t just betrayed you for the millionth time, the door wouldn’t have been opened. Upon the door opening, you stumbled forward a little. Your balance being weak from the alcohol, making it easier for him to pull you into his arms.

“God, I was worried about you! Are you okay?” His hands were cold the moment they came in contact with your face, nothing like Jaemin’s warm ones. You nod with widened eyes, confused by his random burst of worry.

Jeno pulled you in for a hug before cradling your face once again. Connecting your lips in a kiss you two haven't shared in weeks. He couldn’t deny that he missed your lips against his, there was this type of home he found with your lips that he couldn’t with Eunja’s.

That home dwindled the moment he tasted the familiar taste of beer on your tongue and lips. The cold and cheap taste that he tasted one happy time long ago. Just as his tongue swiped across your bottom lip in hopes to collect more of the source, Jeno pulled from the kiss, holding you close to him as his cold hands cradled your face and his eyes stared into yours.

You won’t ever forget the fright and pain that his eyes held. Never had you seen Jeno with so much pain the moment he stared into your tired eyes. “Where were you? You were with him, weren’t you?” His voice cracked and instantly knew he was the king of manipulation, causing you to push him away from your figure. “Don’t start.”

“Don’t start what, y/n? You went back to him for fuck sakes!” His tender touch and tone were quickly gone as he followed you around to the bathroom, panic growing for once. “Jeno get out, I have to piss.” You whine, pulling down your slacks and underwear, sitting on the cold toilet seat.

“Since when do you care that I come in when you’re pissing— fuck, that’s not even the point! What were you doing with him?” His voice rose every time he thought about Jaemin. He didn’t even notice when you had flushed the toilet and washed your hands.

Taking a face wipe to remove the makeup from your face, Jeno stood behind you, going as far as wrapping his arms around you like Jaemin had just before you left. “What’s gotten into you?! Why are you worrying about Jaemin?” You questioned upon disposing of the wipe and beginning to wash your face. Pushing him off slightly to make the process easier.

“What do you mean, why am I worrying? Do you not remember what you two were before you and I?! I can’t bear thinking about you back in his arms… I don’t want to even think about him touching you again…” Looking at his eyes through the mirror you could see the jealousy and worry.

Pushing him off of you, you grunted grabbing your toothbrush. Ignoring his presence in the restroom while you brushed your teeth. “Would you leave?!” Exasperated you rinse your mouth, watching him stand by the door frame like a wounded puppy as he finally backs away from you. “Just tell me why you went to his place… You have no business there.” His voice was soft again, coming closer to you but you avoided his touch, walking to the kitchen to grab a glass of water.

“Because I was angry at you. Is that what you want to hear? Or do you want to hear me lie and say we fucked like we used to? Which lie do you want?” Taking a sip from your glass, Jeno angrily stares at you, even when tears pooled at his eyes. “Don’t lie to me. That’s not what I want.” He spoke more aggressively.

Rolling your eyes as you place down the cup in the sink. You noticed the lack of takeout trash and dished. Perhaps that’s why this place didn’t reek once you entered. “You lie to me all the time, why can’t I? Plus you were thinking the exact same thing even before I just told you it was a lie, Jeno. You won’t ever stop thinking of me as a whore who slept with your old best friend, huh?”

“That’s not it!” “Then what is?!”

Both of you were yelling now. To be exact he didn’t see you as a whore, he only saw you as the root of his problem despite how much he must have loved you in the moment. Not only that but also a trophy, something he had won over Jaemin and you were there to show him.

“Fuck, just tell him you went to suck him off so he can shut up. People are sleeping here.” Eunja’s groggy voice had interfered once again between you both. Chuckle with a scoff leaving your lips when hearing her talk. You shook your head looking at him. “Fuck me! Do you ever mind your own fucking business?! This doesn’t involve you.” You grunt the moment you heard her shuffle to find a shirt in the pile of clothes on the floor.

Her barefoot steps against the floor had grown louder as she stood next to Jeno, wrapping her arms round his shoulders. “Of course it does, we’re talking about my best friend’s feelings here. If you’re the one to cause him problems, I’ll be here.”

“You’re here regardless even if we don’t want you to...”

Jeno turned to look at you, glaring at how Eunja only bothered to put on a shirt and panties. “You know, Jeno. If you’re going to have corporal support, it’s only fair that I do too.” You were trying to rile him up. You didn’t really want to talk about Jaemin but instead it only riled Eunja.

“Corporal support? At least he can be here and know someone cares for him.” God, you were so tired of her meddling in. “Eunja, start paying bills and rent now if you insist on joining in on our relationship arguments.” Emphasizing our, neither of them took it lightly that you ignored her statement.

Scoffing at your words, Eunja dropped her arms from his shoulders to fold them across her chest. “Find yourself a job without the help of Mr. Lee and then I’ll pay rent.” She knew well where to hit but even when you glared at her in hopes she became ash, you knew her points as well though.

“Find your father first and ask him to give you back your trust fund. At least you’ll leach off of him again and leave us alone.” “Y/n!”

Annoyed by the way Jeno yelled at you rather than her, your glare only increased looking at the both of them.

“Sorry, just remembered he disowned you for his new kid. One who doesn’t come from an unwanted and unhappy forced marriage.” Seeing the pain in Eunja’s face was more than satisfactory. Good enough for you to want to grab a beer even if you had just brushed your teeth. Her sniffles driving you to euphoria.

“What the hell is wrong with you? Why would you bring that up?” Jeno had stopped your steps, taking a hold of your wrist to stop you, trying to scold you but all you heard was the buzzing of pestering parasites.

“Don’t fucking touch me... I’m tired of her meddling in on our arguments that most of the time she causes and you want me to be nice to her? I couldn’t care enough for her. Never in your life think I’ll like her. Especially not after finding you both that first night. You don’t even actually like her, even she knows you’re only using her when you want to fuck.”

Jeno understood your cold words, his grip from your wrist left the moment you expressed your thoughts. “Apologize.” Jeno couldn’t really tell what he was looking for when he asked you to apologize as if you would just because he told you to but he did want to feel like he had control.

Of course he understood that the moment you turned to glare at him, a long and hesitant silence between you two as Eunja continued to cry. “Is it her or is it me?” A soft and silent gasp left his lips the moment your eyes met. You had never been this precise and he knew if he answered, it’d be over. His silence was painful, throat slitting painful and the moment his eyes tore from you to look at Eunja, you knew.

You didn’t speak, you couldn’t. Instead you felt your blood boil to the point that the intoxication left your body and your hands turned into tight fists of detained anger. “I hope you rot in shit and the deepest level of hell, both of you… We’re done for, I’m not dealing with you or her anymore.” Jeno turned to look at you, the tired expression of heartbreak evident in his eyes. A part of you wanted him to say he loved you but even if he still did, you didn’t think you loved him.

Anger filling you, you went to grab your purse again, slipping in the same shoes you had worn as you stormed out the first time. He had reached out to you when he noticed you were seriously getting out again but upon hearing your shriek he stopped dead in his tracks, eyes wide from shock.

“I told you to not touch me! You fucking repulse me, Jeno— every time you touch me I feel disgust and discomfort, fucking leave me alone! You’re gross.” Pushing back your hair and turning to slam the door behind you as you struggled to take out your phone, dialing Jisung’s number. Leaving him standing frozen on his spot rewinding the words you had just told him.

That night you had failed to notice the damage you had caused in both Eunja and Jeno.

Only a horrible person could say those things and not feel remorse but you were a horrible person. Eunja’s fear of never being loved only increased after that. She knew Jeno only took her in for pity and did only have her around for whenever he wanted sex. Afterall you were never home because of work so she was his second choice.

As in for her dad… that man always made sure to let her know he didn’t have an ounce of love for her. He had remarried not long ago after framing her mother of an affair to make the divorce faster. After that marriage he had a son. She couldn’t blame her father for loving him more than he would ever love Eunja.

He was a product of a marriage with love and passion, not the robotic lifestyle she grew up in. Jeno’s parents were the only people she could rely on for parental love but the moment you came into the picture it was evident they were only waiting for someone to give them grandchildren.

Even if they never disclosed matters with Jeno, his parents knew of everything he did wrong to you and knowing Eunja was a reason for your dwindling beautiful romance, their dislike and disillusion for her grew. On top of that they grew to notice how obnoxiously dependent of a person she really was and that hatred from people that once loved her only made her weaker as time went by.

As for Jeno— only you could tell him how horrible of a person he was and be affected by it. Perhaps you don’t love him anymore but he loves you in his own way (so he thinks), even if his actions tell you otherwise. With your confession of disgust towards him, he felt like he had finally been crushed and his ego died. No— he finally understood how badly he had ruined you for you to say such vile things to him.

He knew he had no reason to be angry over you visiting Jaemin and even if you two did sleep together that night, he couldn’t blame you— it’s not like he hadn’t been doing that with Eunja for the past two years right in front of you.

The moment he snapped out of it as he saw the door fully closed, a sort of pain kept growing deeper. Seeing how hard your slam had made the items on the side table at the entrance fall. The vase with dead flowers had fallen to the floor, breaking the ceramic across and having the remaining water spill on the framed picture of both you and him. To be exact it wasn’t framed anymore. Upon contact with the floor, the frame broke, shattering the glass and scratching the picture.

Crouching down to get the image, he took it in between his fingers, blowing softly in fear of smudging the image. He didn’t look at Eunja that night. That was the first night he slept alone after six years, locking the door to the main room and hugging your pillow.

Jisung had picked up fairly fast, receiving you with an enthusiastic hello in the process of yawning. “Jisung, do you mind calling me a cab?” The meekness in your voice made him keep alert, despite the silence lingering while you got on the elevator. “I— I’m actually off my shift right now—”

“Oh, I’m sorry… I’ll call then.” “No! I— I can take you wherever you’re going. I don’t mind.”

Jisung always knew how to comfort you in his own way. He was the younger brother you wished for but to be honest he was the only one you could take care of and look after. Jeno didn’t grant you that purpose and after years together and now, there’s no way you could have his children and take care of them like you did for Jisung. Maybe that’s why you clung to the idea of Jaemin. He always followed you around like a kid in need and you were always there to help him.

You had hung up the moment the doors to the elevator dinged, opening to see him standing there with his jacket and backpack on, just waiting for you to arrive. “Are you sure you can give me a ride?” Shyly questioning, he nods with a smile, motioning for you to follow him.

The entire car ride you didn’t speak, only to tell him where to drop you off. You wanted to cry, you wanted to show how in pain you were but the numbness that took over you after knowing Jeno kept sleeping with Eunja didn’t allow for it. You couldn’t cry, even if you really wanted and just like always— you had to suffer in silence.

“Hey. We’re here…” Breaking from your thoughts upon realizing how fast you had ended here once again, you nod smiling at him. “Thank you, call me if you need anything. I— I won’t be staying there any longer.” Seeing your gaze drop from his, Jisung, turned to you in worry.

“Huh?! What do you mean? Did something happen?!” His exasperated worry was endearing rather than annoying. You knew he cared for you, you were the only one to baby and comfort him knowing his parents were a long four hour train ride away.

Giggling at his demeanor you ruffled his hair again. “Is it because of Mr. Lee?...” His eyes had turned just as sad as yours, taking the hand that played with his hair into his. “I can mess with the water or the AC if you want? But to be honest he hasn’t been an asshole to me so I can’t really judge the situation.” He squeezed your hand, making you look up at him.

“Jisung… I— don’t worry about it. If you want I’ll visit you from time to time.” He knew that was it but he didn’t want to ask furthermore. You were already on the verge of slumping on your seat if you continued to talk about it.

“You have my email and other places to talk on so please keep me updated, you’re the only one I care enough to hear about.” It was clear that Jeno had done something for you to answer in such a manner.

There was nothing he could do, so he opted for a nod and a smile taking you into an uncomfortable hug across the seats. “Take care, you can call me any time!” Jisung never explained how he managed to hide his feelings well. “I will, thank you...” Opening the door to his car, you smiled, waving at him once again. Before closing it, you turned to him; “Take care of Jeno for me, please…” Jisung nodded, watching you go inside the building before he drove away.

You didn’t only leave Jeno and Eunja wounded but Jisung added to the mix.

The difficulty of going up the steps didn’t bother you this time. You had found yourself up in no time compared to the first time earlier this day, well it was almost the next day. Just as before you punched in the numbers to the pad, not caring if the noise they made were loud enough to wake Jaemin from his slumber.

It was odd, he couldn’t think of anyone coming at this hour, not even you despite your earlier visit. All changed when he sat up, bed sheets covering his lower half and seeing your dark shadow turn on the light to the front part of the home.

“Y/n?” “Hey...”

Your slanted smile caused a sense of relief in him, something must’ve happened for you to be back here. Jaemin didn’t waste time in standing up, rushing to your figure and enveloping you in his arms, holding you tightly like he wanted so long ago.

The tears you couldn’t shed, he could. Buried emotions resurfaced when he saw you again this night, whether it was for better or for worse, he was only glad he could have you to himself again. His body was so warm against yours, shirtless, his musk filled you again. He wanted to speak, there was so much he wanted to say but he couldn’t— at least not now.

Jaemin had pulled away momentarily just to look at you, at your eyes and expression but all you could think about was kissing him. Kissing him like you used to and having him reciprocate it with much deserved passion. That’s what you did though. Taking the hand that held your face, you connected your lips, feeling the slight mixture of softness and chap of his lips against your own.

His arms had wrapped around your waist, pulling you closer to him in fear of having you leave him again. Jaemin felt that comfort from years ago, letting you lead him to his bed as the both of you kissed, holding each other for dear life.

That’s something about you. You could feel indifferent about anything but in the process and during sex you loved wildly and immensely. The moment you sat him down on the bed, straddling his lap— Jaemin could feel the long night this would be. Removing your sweater as the two of you continued to kiss. Your hips softly moved against his boxer clad lap, knowing he was easily sensitive.

Even when you had control overall— this was where he took it.

His hands took a tight grip on your hips, pushing you down on his cock as it got harder. His lips took yours in a needy kiss, becoming sloppy the moment his tongue poked out, swiping across your upper lip. Taking it as a sign to part your lips, a moan left them when he granted you with a soft thrust upward, thanking you for being complacent.

Jaemin chuckled, his chest rumbling with it. His hands left your hips making you miss his warm grip. His fingers tugged at the buttons of your blouse while you continued to kiss, your tongue making sure to taste him. From sloppy to passionate, you held the nape of his neck, your lips molding with his.

You were the type to kiss until you couldn’t breathe anymore, pulling away to see his lips plump from kissing. There was something endearing from this image— he was still your boy. After all these years he was still your boy, your Jaemin…

He smiled upon meeting your eyes. They turned into slight crescents as he kissed your cheek, removing your blouse and unclasping your bra, pulling it all off. Jaemin’s head dipped, coming in contact with your breast, his lips softly kissing the delicate flesh. His lips rested around your left breast, kissing softly and his breath fanning the skin, causing goosebumps. Jaemin smiled at the feeling, looking up at you with his soft puppy eyes, admiring you from that angle, just as you were him.

When he saw you smile at him, he turned his attention back to your breast, his lips finally enveloping around the perked nub. His mouth was warm, the saliva on his tongue coating your nipple as he swirled his tongue around it. Pulling away slightly, he blew cold air on it, making you take a hold around him.

“Jaemin…”

Something about you moaning his name always sets him off. It was his fuel but only when it came from your lips. The moment it left them, his lips became rougher but still soft enough to not hurt you. His right hand takes your other breast and kneads it, taking your nipple in between his thumb and index, rolling it to your liking.

You hadn’t been touched like this for months and to be touched by someone who has brought you great pleasure in the past, you’re glad to know your dry spell was ending with him. Jaemin was always delicate and rough at the same time, he knew what you liked and how to take it.

“You’re doing so good, baby.” You whispered against the top of his head, leaving soft reassuring kisses. “You’re… doing, great.” He liked when you praised him. Only you. Just like when you moaned his name, hearing you praise him only made him want to please you better.

As you kept getting wetter by his actions, the warmth of your cunt against his cock, made him grow erect. His hips softly jolted upwards, enough to cause friction between both your bodies. Your whimpers couldn’t be tamed, even if you bit your lower lip to be quiet; your fingers raked through his hair, pushing it back to see his face.

Jaemin had always been beautiful. Especially during sex. His features contorted to express how he felt, the way his eyes closed as he focused on pleasing you, the faces he made when he was inside of you— you truly did miss him.

Pulling away from your nub, he smiled, connecting your lips once again. They tingled against yours this time but the warmth that came with them upon kissing made up for it. Your hips this time took the initiative, rocking against his cock in soft glides. Jaemin was a sensitive man, any movement had him biting his lower lip. Throwing his head back with his lips parted in order to allow the moan stuck in his throat to leave.

This was an advantage to you. Lowering your body enough to rock your hips against his whilst you had easy access to his neck, leaving delicate open mouth kisses to it. “Do you feel good, baby?” You whisper against his ear, kissing his lobe before licking a long stripe from it back to his Adam's apple, leaving a kiss on it.

“I always feel good with you on top of me.” He admits, thrusting upwards, making you moan right against his Adam's apple. “Are you feeling good?” He questions, opening his eyes hoping to see you but with your face and lips against his neck— it wasn’t really possible.

“You have always made me feel great.”

Jaemin moaned at your words with the addition of your teeth nipping at the flesh of his neck, knowing well this would lead to territorialism. Chuckling, he pushes you further down on his crotch, hands on your lower back as he thrusts forward, making you feel him so close despite the material you both ported.

Whilst he kept thrusting upwards and you grinded against his cock, sucking on the skin of his neck— you could feel yourself so close to coming undone. As you haven’t been touched by anyone in so long, not even yourself, being in this situation made you grow more hot and bothered than usual. You needed this release and now.

Jaemin couldn’t hold his whimpers at the feeling of you sucking on his neck. Hickies were so juvenile but when you gave them to him, he knew it was your way of claiming. Of wanting to see him marked up and be remembered of who clearly can only do this to him. You have and always will be his muse. His muse who he’d drop everything for.

His hand left your sides and instead cupped your ass, taking you off of his lap and pushing you to the mattress. It did feel different than his old one. This one was more firm and smaller but it could still fit you both. At this point he unbuttoned your slacks and pulled them along your panties, taking them off swiftly like he used to. Parting open your legs, you didn’t protest in anything he did.

By your needy whimpers just for touching you, Jaemin knew it had been a while since you had been touched. His lips had kissed the inside of your thighs, leaving wet open mouthed kisses, his teeth biting the flesh softly from time to time.

“Jaem, please don’t tease.” You whine as his mouth hovers over your cunt. His hot breath fanning against the wetness he had allowed for you to build up through that moment on his lap. Smiling at you, he nods. His lips coming in contact with your cunt, feeling way warmer than when they touched your inner thigh.

Jaemin always knew what pleased you, he knew your ticks and buttons. His lips enveloped your clit, softly sucking on it in order to not get you on edge quickly despite his understanding that you were indeed so very close.

While he sucked on your clit, letting his tongue slip in from time to time, licking at your entrance to taste your ever growing arousal— his fingers ran up and down the inside of your left thigh, tickling you softly to build anticipation.

“Jaem…” You moaned, feeling his hair cascade in front of his face, adding to the tickling feeling on your flesh. “Yeah?” He moaned against your cunt, licking along your inner labia. The vibration of his moan against you made you feel closer, your legs slightly shaking.

At your lack of response, he blew cold air against your cunt, making you groan— letting it elongate as his fingers raked from your inner thigh to your cunt, teasing the labia and clit, playing with the idea of inserting them inside of you.

You didn’t have to ask him, this time he did it on his own when he felt your hands reach down for his hair, tugging at it. He liked it when you pulled at his hair, making him grumble as he inserted his warm middle finger into you.

Gasping at the minimum stretch, you felt a mixture of discomfort and pleasure. It felt so familiar, the curves of his finger in you. Moving softly in and out as his tongue licked around your clit. Just as you were getting used to his middle finger, he had put in his ring finger, moving it around to fit perfectly next to his other one.

The feeling of your walls contracting around his fingers made him want to move them, he wanted to feel you perfectly around his fingers as he ate you out with the fervor of missing your taste. His lips suctioned clit, that’s where you liked him the most— wrapped around your clit and tongue teasing at your entrance, picking up every single drop of you.

Jaemin used his spare hand to prop up your leg slightly, making you do the same with your other leg. He always did this when he was going to start moving his finger, it’s as if he knew it made you feel differently.

His fingers started moving slowly at first. The basic in and out routine until he started to go faster, making them go in deeper, curling his fingers and hand to make sure he had closer contact with your pressure points. That made the palm of his hand start rubbing at your labia, causing a friction that you missed so much.

Your moans increased in volume when his mouth pulled away from you, having only his fingers inside of you. “You’re so sensitive, has he touched you this well? Does he even touch you like I do?” Jaemin’s voice was husky, his warm breath falling flat against your thigh. You couldn’t speak but for sure your loud ‘no’ had satisfied him.

“Say it again.”

“No! He’s never been able to make me feel like you have…” That was enough for him, his spare hand resting its fingers on your clit, rubbing circles on it with delicate pressure as the fingers on his other hand curled and moved at a rapid pace inside of you, your walls wrapping around him, sucking him in. Even if his fingers didn’t reach your g-spot, the pressure and nerves being worked on your clit were driving you to your high and he knew it.

The moment your legs started shaking with the feeling of his fingers thrusting in deeper and the pressure applied to your clit increased; Jaemin pulled them out, having his drenched fingers slap your abused and raw cunt. The sting made your back arch, moaning loudly at how painfully pleasurable he did that.

Knowing that had made you even more sensitive and the slapping pain running through your cunt made you so, Jaemin stuck his fingers back in you, going as deep as he could and stopping there, not even moving them. His other hand reached back to your clit, rubbing faster and harder than before, the stinging hadn’t gone away so feeling him so deep in you that it was hard for you to contract your walls around him.

You couldn’t hold back much longer and he was aware, lowering his head and kissing around your thighs, leaving small bites as he rubbed your clit. As your hands pulled at his hair, Jaemin groaned against your skin, rubbing faster, wanting to see you cum around him, to look pretty as you always do when you cum— that’s what he got.

Upon hearing you whine last time and claiming your orgasm, he curled his fingers inside of you the moment you came, the action causing a sensibility that had you squirming in place and holding onto your thighs for composure. Your legs were shaking and your moans couldn’t stop, your neck felt sweaty but it was all due to your long overdue orgasm.

The moment you had calmed down, Jaemin sat next to you, helping you sit up and pecking your lips. You had chased after his own lips the moment his clean hand wrapped around your shoulder, wanting to feel him closely to you but instead he tapped his soaked fingers against your lips, making it obvious as to what he wanted.

He didn’t have to speak, parting your lips and sticking out your tongue slowly, the contrast of your warmth compared to his cold fingers made you and him softly moan. The sweet and tangy taste of yourself lacing your tongue. It wasn’t an unpleasant taste and even if you’ve tasted yourself before, it always felt different when he asked you to.

He imagined you sucking him off, he did but if he didn’t fuck you any time soon, Jaemin would cum in his boxers and doing so after finally having you back in his bed after so long would destroy his pride. Of course it could wait; the moment he pulled his fingers out of your mouth with a slight string of spit following.

With that you guided his hand back in between your legs. Having him rub you again while you leaned in, taking his lips in between your teeth before kissing him again. Your hand holding his head delicately, enjoying the feeling of his lips against yours.

As the two of you kissed, the hand that held his own moved to his crotch, feeling his clothed cock. It was restrained, the precum staining the gray cloth and asking to be liberated but he wouldn’t grant himself that. With his tongue down your throat, hands in between your legs and helping himself prop up on the bed, there was no way he’d stop you from helping him out— he was technically leaking to be touched.

Or so you thought, the moment your fingers locked around the waistband of the boxers, the hand in between your thighs pulled away, holding your wrist. Even his lips had separated from yours making you whine like a child who’s candy was just taken. “Don’t be so desperate, princess.” His eyes bore into yours before he smiled, leaning into you again, connecting your aching lips and continuing to kiss you.

Despite his lack of wanting attention, there was no harm in touching him a little. In fact you wanted to touch him, to feel him again. You missed the full girthy feeling of him weighing on your hand, you wanted to feel his precum in between your fingers as you touched him, but for now you had to settle for touching him above his boxers.

Whilst the both of you continued to kiss and his hand went in between your thighs again; his palm softly rubbing against your clit, your own hand started softly caressing him. Jaemin didn’t know if you were really trying to tease him or pleasure him so once he felt your hand deliciously rubbing him, he couldn’t help but moan against the kiss.

Satisfied with his response you kept going, touching him over his boxers and praising him for being compliant. He could feel himself being on edge quickly. Just like you, he hadn’t been touched in months but compared to you he did touch himself, it just never felt the same as when someone else did so.

You could feel him whole, the curve of rubbing him up and down, the wetness from the precum, and his shaking legs as you kept going; increasing pressure as you went on. Even when you hadn’t gone much longer the moans against the kiss signaled that he was just as close as you were not long ago.

Feeling himself so very close, Jaemin took your wrist again, this time pulling it away with as much force as to pin you down on the bed. Your soft whimper made him bite down on his bottom lip, his other hand taking a hold of your free wrist.

“I’m so close and I can’t be coming with just your touch…” his head lowered, his lips caressing the flesh of your neck. You felt him so close, his hips lowering to the point you felt his clothed cock press against your achingly wet cunt, leaving a small patch once he lifted his hips.

Moaning at the loss of contact, Jaemin enveloped his lips around your neck, biting down softly while having his lips litter your neck with kisses. Contrary to your kisses, his were delicate and lacked the territorialist sentiment only wanting to leave his print and care, showing he wanted to only please you.

“Cum in me.”

You knew the power of your words. You knew how heavy they weighed over him, loving to hear you say you wanted him to pump his load of cum inside of you, to fill you to the brim and claim you as his with just his warm spurts.

Jaemin growled against your neck, nipping softly at the flesh, his kisses becoming rougher and wet. His frustration laced on his kisses against your neck: wet, sloppy, and open mouthed.

He separated himself from you, dropping his grip on your wrist as he kneeled before you, pushing down his boxers and letting his cock spring free like it had been screaming for so long.

Given the opportunity; you sat up, staring at him as he removed his boxers and threw them on the floor. Your hand reached out for him, wrapping itself around his cock. Coming in contact: he groans loudly, throwing his head back as your thumb collects the precum on his angry red tip, asking to be touched. He was sensitive after all, biting down on his lip, letting you have your way and touch him.

Jaemin believed that if you went any longer he would cum all over your hand and that’s not what he wanted. Your hand itself felt great, your hand rubbing at his tip while moving your hand softly up and down lubricated with only his precum and some of your spit that you had allowed to collect after taking a grasp on him.

His cock in your hand, stroking him just to rile him more; Jaemin leaned forward, resting his head on your shoulder. You could hear his pretty whimpers, how he softly moaned and groaned as you went on. He really was close to coming, as sensitive as he was. In fact you wouldn't have minded having him come on your hand, you wanted to see how pretty he looked as he spurted out his warm cum in ribbons all over your body. Yeah, you’d like to see it.

He would have liked it to but being inside you as he came was more pleasant. Groaning against your shoulder, Jaemin took your wrist again. His hand pinning it to the bed hovering over you as he parted your legs with his spare hand.

Jaemin didn’t speak in the meantime, he looked at you before taking his wet cock onto his hand and guiding it between your legs. Slapping it softly against your cunt to test your sensibility and when you threw your head back in anticipation and want, he smirked, sliding in softly.

You haven’t felt him inside of you for so long that the feeling was foreign. Feeling your walls stretch, you moaned onto the pillows under your head. He hadn’t moved but you could already feel him in the process. He always filled you so well, the girth stretching you out.

“You can’t just say that and expect me to not want to ruin you right now.” As he hovered over you, looking straight into your eyes, letting you adjust. You knew well Jaemin loved coming in you, he always did. It gave him some sense of power, feeling as that's his way of claiming you.

Giggling softly at his words, showing off your toothy grin. “Cum in me, Jaem.” You were taunting him but if he wouldn’t cum on your hand and paint your body with it then you want to feel his hot cum inside of you, filling you like a glove.

Jaemin couldn’t hold off. Leaning against your lips, he kissed you making you moan against them when you felt his hips snap forward.

It was a hard thrust, slow but hard allowing you to feel him fully inside. Every time he thrusted your legs shook, moving around the bed with great pleasure. This looked like a new technique. Starting our hard and slow, his pelvic bone snapping against yours.

Your moans were loud the faster he went, his skin slapping against yours and with his hands holding tightly to your wrists, you couldn’t even hold onto him or the bed. “Jaem!” You scream in pleasure the deeper he goes. His cock coming so effortlessly in and out of you as if your cunt has already adjusted perfectly to him again. Jaemin had noticed it, chuckling at the ease.

“How are you feeling?” He asked against your lips, his hip rotating in circles before going back to slamming them against your own. Your moans overpowered your words to the point that you couldn’t really speak, only bite your lip.

He took it as an answer, continuing as he held onto your wrists, grip so tight to make your hands turn red. “Jaem…” His name cascading from your swollen lips, leaving a sweet taste. Thrusting into you as if he wasn’t just so close to painting your walls.

It didn’t help that you started squeezing your muscles around him, tightening your own grip and making him groan against your sweat coated skin. “Fuck, if you keep doing that, I’ll come right now.” He cooed, making you moan out a whimper, hips rising to feel him even deeper.

Jaemin’s grip on your wrists loosened, moving his hands down your body to hold your hips up there and closer to him as he grinded them against you before continuing to pound into you. It was glorious, the contact of his hips against yours rubbing at your clit. You could feel yourself coming soon once again. You wouldn’t last longer and you were ready to experience that wave of pleasure once again.

Your legs wrapped around his torso, pulling him deeper and closer to you. If he kept going at this pace you would come so hard and you were ready for it. Heels pushing at his ass and arms wrapping themselves around his shoulders once he set your wrists free, holding onto him for dear life. “Fuck, I’m so close,” You whine shutting your eyes tightly.

Nails clung to the flesh of his back, Jaemin felt the sting of it but just like you— he was so very close. “Me too… shit, I can’t hold much longer.” Your muscles squeezed around him, knowing that made him go harder.

Jaemin moaned, pulling your body closer to his. “You little shit, you’re doing it on purpose.” He laughed against you, kissing your cheek with every thrust. “What about it? You’re about to cum already and I want it inside me.” Smiling at him; Jaemin leaned in to kiss you. Fuck, he loved you so much and hearing you be this filthy made him go faster.

His hips slammed against yours even harder, his thrusts both sloppy but feeling good. You weren’t wrong in the fact that he was about to cum but he wanted you to cum first. That wouldn’t happen though. As much friction of his body on your clit, Jaemin was most sensitive and he was soon to spill.

Just as he was about to say he wanted for you to cum first, you had beat him to it. Pulling his head lower so you could speak against his ear. “Cum in me, Jaemin… make me yours again.” That had set him off. A rumbling growl erupted from his throat, thrusting hard inside you with the tight grip of your cunt squeezing him.

“You don’t know how long I’ve ached to hear you say something like that again. To have you like this again, with me— fuck you’re insanely hard to get over…”

He couldn’t hold off any longer. With his final rough thrust, Jaemin held on to you tightly. His face hid on the crook of your neck as he spilt inside of you. It felt glorious on your side too, the feeling of being so full with his cum. Perhaps it was the idea and feeling of having him in you that made you cum with the wave of his warm cum inside of you.

When he felt you squeeze around him, your legs shook and a loud cry left your lips along the warmth of your own cum coating him. Jaemin smiled, leaving kisses along your shoulder blade.

“You did so well…”

You could barely speak but hearing your words made him feel that warm feeling inside of him once again. Sighing against your skin, he smiled before turning to you. “I missed you, you know.” No words left you but you knew he meant it. For now, smiling in satisfaction and caressing his cheek would do. Planting a soft peck on the tip of his nose, having him still buried inside of you and his cum slowly dripping out.

That wasn’t the only round that night but that night you had learned of what he had done all these years without you and what you had done. Though regret coated both of your words with every sentence, neither could deny it was a fulfilling feeling to be in each other's arms once again.

That night you two had held each other, not sleeping after a few more rounds and continuing to chat as if nothing had just happened with Jeno and what happened between the two of you never did. It seemed like the beginning to your paused actions with him before you started dating Jeno but at the end you both knew who would end up hurt if it went further.

You were the first one to wake up in the morning. Thanks to your hypothalamus, you were up before he could notice you had gone to your car to pick up the to-go bag you always had in there. Just in case a scenario like storming out of the apartment would happen. At least it’s of use now.

Jaemin was still asleep once you got inside the apartment, this time the pin pad didn’t wake him up. Taking the opportunity to shower and get cleaned up hoping that maybe you could treat him with some breakfast if you had the willpower right after your shower.

At times like these you would leave before he awoke but that nostalgia of having him there with you didn’t let you. You wanted him in your life again, especially now that Jeno was out of the picture.

Clearly you couldn’t… You had already decided on leaving; as much as you try telling yourself you want a life with Jaemin, you just want the comfort and him to fill the emptiness you have been feeling. He was the only one you knew who cared enough for you.

By the time you had gotten ready and out of the restroom he was already up, clutching the pillow your head rested on earlier and looking through his cellphone. Mere seconds before dialing your phone number, he saw you close the door to the restroom, sighing to himself out of relief.

Jaemin did fear that you’d leave just like many times before. He was scared and vulnerable to lose you again after last night— that’s how attached he really was to you. After all these years he could only focus on you.

“Morning,” Greeting him, he smiles at you, running a hand through his hair and rubbing his eyes just after dropping his phone on the mattress. “Morning…” His shoulders flexed while he stretched, giving you a view of the growing muscles you weren’t really able to see last night.

While you dropped the bag next to the entrance, Jaemin put his boxers back on, walking your way to wrap his arms around your waist. “Want to get breakfast?” His voice was boyish, soft, and calming to hear next to your ear, even when he left soft kisses and rubbed his nose against your neck.

“Oh, I was thinking about making you breakfast, I have enough time before I go in.” Turning to face him, the glint of joy in his eyes was enough to tell you he had gained that illusion again. The one you killed so long ago. You didn’t let it scare you off, or so you’re trying to claim.

“Ai… It’s 8:37 already, you go in at nine… I don’t think that’s enough time.” Your eyes widened at his statement, breaking away from his arms to check the clock on your phone. Clearly enough, he was right. Time did fly by when you were with him.

“Fuck— don’t you go in at the same time? You’re not even dressed yet!” It was endearing how you had grown exasperated that fast but he could only laugh at your reaction. “Technically but your boss wanted me to pick up something for his side—” Covering his mouth, Jaemin turned to you, eyes widened now that you were the one laughing.

He tried to keep quiet about it but that morning you had found out Jungwan had a side chick and she was in her fifth month of pregnancy which was firing a light up his ass. Not only that but the stress he threw onto Jaemin so the secret won’t come out kept growing. He even went as far as suggesting that if they did get caught that Jaemin should take the blame to which his girlfriend ended up slapping him right after. You won’t deny you became obviously pouty and jealous at the news. Enough for him to tease you until he was able to kiss them away.

The day he suggested that, your superior had heard them. Jungwan’s dumbass had been stupid enough to not hang up and have him hear everything. Even threatened him to not involve Jaemin or he himself would fire him. As cold as the superior looks, he did care about his employees— at least only the ones who had purpose to him and Jaemin’s position as an intern and pretty much his second assistant— he was purposeful.

After he told you to keep quiet, Jaemin kissed you one last time before sending you off, knowing you didn’t want to be late. He offered you to stay at his place while you found somewhere to stay but knowing Jeno, his apartment was the first place he would go looking at. At the end of the day you had already made up your mind with your future and in the meantime would crash with Jun, knowing she’ll be there for you.

“I’ll see you later, okay? We can get lunch once I get to the firm.” You nodded, closing the door behind you, leaving him alone once again. Something about the way you quietly left was making him grow anxious. There wasn’t a reason for it but that’s what he thought. In fact any time you left, he always grew scared. The scarring you left that day was never healing.

It was chilly that morning, colder than when you first stepped foot outside. All you could think about in the car after sending the email to your superior was about how those around you would feel. To be exact how Jaemin would feel. Even when you walked through the aisles of the pharmacy with the Plan B in hand, water, and a pack of KitKat’s. You could only think of how he would react knowing you’d run away from him again.

Not even the light music playing on the speakers could distract you nor the questioning glare of the lady who angrily packed your items into the plastic baggy. Adding a pack of condoms into the mix to make her scowl grow bigger, you paid with cash hoping it would only ruin her morning just like she was bittering yours.

Hopping into the car, closing the door forcefully you looked ahead. The dull buildings were deteriorating while you thought about yourself and your decisions. Either way you rummaged every compartment in the car just to find the opener in your purse, making sure and precise openings to the plastic.

You could never understand how Jun opened it with her teeth, struggling to remotely make an opening and avoiding the plastic to either cut her or stab her gum but at the end of the day it was Jun. Straight to the point and ready for anything.

Sighing to yourself as you took the bottle of water out of the bag and opened it, you took out the pill popping it out of the packaging. It was an amazing waste of plastic and paper just for a tiny single pill, yet at the same time it was rather understandable knowing they could easily steal it if it was pocket sized.

Nonetheless its purpose was taken and you swallowed it, staring at the chocolate debating whether you should eat it or leave it, knowing it was a waste getting it. Even the condoms seemed like a waste unless you decide to fuck Jaemin while you wait for your plans to commence. Either way, there’s nothing else to do than wait.

There was a new air in the firm, it was crisp and clear. Things seemed so different after last night and you wondered if Jeno’s and Eunja’s toxicity was the reason for your previous demise.

The lights were bright but warm this time. As you went up the elevator to your floor you placed down your items waiting for the hour to come where your superior would call you again.

“Morning, y/n.” Guenhye greeted you, placing her cup of coffee next to her desktop screen.

“Good morning!” That was too peppy. Raising an eyebrow she smiled, winking your way. “Had a good night?” She questioned logging in just as you settled your own stuff down. “Yeah… yeah, I’d say so.” Remembering Jaemin inside of you and his sweet talk right after did make your night turn around from the anger and pain brought to you prior.

“Lucky, Jeno in that case.”

Jeno. Just hearing his name made your body slouch, the air was thick again, and the gloominess in the firm returned. That happy morning was gone.

“Ms. y/l/n. Your meeting is now.” It was your superior’s assistant. Her words were quick and to the point but they always held that kindness that any assistant should have. Looking up at her you nodded, clipping on your ID just as you began to follow behind her, avoiding Geunhye’s questioning gaze hoping to know what it was about.

God, you knew she would be heartbroken if she knew.

Yesterday seemed to be repeating itself; clicking your shoes and hers against the floor and the bright lights above, presenting you in the spotlight as his assistant and you walked to and from the elevator to his office.

This time he didn’t have you waiting. She had directed you inside and shut the door behind her as she left without a word. Looking at the clock on his wall, the time had marked 9:48— hopefully enough, Jaemin was back from his little dirty mission.

“Y/n! So, did you make up your mind that quickly?” He smiled with his fingers intertwined together, resting on his desk while showing how he knew you would backtrack on your previous words. “Yes, sir… I’ll take the position at FR-EE…”

If anything— this is the perfect time to run away like the coward you are. Leaving Jaemin and Jeno behind for good.

if you liked airbag then you’ll like: happy together!

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