#so she should 1. probably be carrying her child with her

[autumnhobbit]

thinkin bout how pharaoh's daughter, the child of the regime that literally attempted to genocide the Hebrews, paid Moses's mother to feed him. she could have just ordered her to do it. but she gave her child back to her, saved him from being murdered by her adoption of him, and paid his mother wages to feed him. queen of an enslaving country had more decency than half of companies today

[logansargeantsbabymom]

Too Good To Say Goodbye pt2

Logan Sargeant x Fem!Reader, Grid x Fem!Reader

warnings: cursing, pregnancy, shit-talking, grid baby

part 1 I part 2 I part 3 I part 4

It had been 5 months since my last encounter with Logan. Well, the last time I actually talked to him, if you would consider the argument we had as “talking”.

After I stormed out the house with my suitcase I made my way to my Best Friend Lily’s house and told her everything. Since Lily lives with Alex, he obviously heard everything that happened and absolutely reamed Logan a new asshole.

Lily and Alex were nice enough to let me stay at their place until I was able to get on my own feet again. Lily was adamant on making me stay until after the baby was at least 6 months old, so that I could comfortably move everything out without dealing with either a pregnancy bump or a newborn that would need constant attention.

-

Today was the Miami Grand Prix and I attended to cheer on my Grid family and the second Logan’s eyes fell on me, he sprinted over, his hand immediately touching my stomach

“oh my baby, how are you my love? how’s she doing for you?” Logan said coming in to try and place a soft kiss to my lips, only for me to step back “cmon babe. i’ve done everything to win you back, let me just be with you. i need to be in my daughters life” Logan said with pleading eyes.

“and you will be, just not with me in yours,” i say, removing his hands from my bump “and don’t touch my stomach without my permission, especially when it’s hot outside.”

Logan looked shocked at my comment but tried to shrug it off putting his hands right back on my stomach “my pretty girl, tell your mommy to forgive daddy, daddy didn’t mean what he said”

“Hey! She fucking said to stop touching her.” a voice yells, Logan turn to see who interrupted his time with both his love and his baby

“Listen Lando, this doesn’t concern you.” Logan scoffed attempting to put his hands right back on my stomach but Lando quickly stepped in front of me.

“It actually does concern me, seeing as you’re touching my girlfriend AFTER she told you to stop.” Lando’s voice stern, absolutely shocking Logan

“your girlfriend?” Logan looked sad, heartbroken and utterly confused

“yes, MY girlfriend,” Lando started “The woman you let slip away, the woman who might be carrying your baby but will probably see me as her dad, the woman you mistreated, the woman of my dreams and my beautiful, strong, confident girlfriend”

My hormones were absolutely not on my side because the more Lando went on, the more I started crying.

I’ve never felt this type of love with Logan, I mean yeah in the beginning of the relationship it was pure bliss, but after the first 2 months it was just like we were roommates that fucked and occasionally told the other we loved them whenever we were in private.

In public however, we seemed like the happiest ever, like there was nothing wrong in our world. That we were obsessed with each other, like the world would stop revolving if we were conjoined at the hip.

I can admit, for 2 weeks after my breakup with Logan and blurting out that I was once again with child, I couldn’t stop thinking about how cruel it would be to my daughter to not be with her father and for a second I almost went running back to Logan and begged him to forgive me for my outburst and to take me back. When I went to confide in Lando and ask him if I should go back, he told me that was the dumbest thing I could’ve done because if it is beneficial for my daughter it would be the worst years of my life knowing her dad thinks so lowly of me.

Lando was really my rock during my whole breakup and pregnancy, he encouraged me to move out of Lily and Alex’s house and into his in case something happened in the middle of the night, if I needed something and just because he overall thought I shouldn’t have to live alone while I was pregnant.

Lily thought it was weird that I moved into Lando’s place just 2 weeks after moving in with her but she made me promise to go over to hers at least once a day so she could talk to her niece.

I was quickly pulled out of my daze when I felt a small tug on my arm. It was Lando urging me into the McLaren garage after Logan started throwing a hissy fit.

“What the fuck is his problem?” Lando said with a light chuckle to ease the mood, placing his hand on the small of my back before quickly yanking it away. “Sorry, I know you just yelled at Logan for touching you without permission, and I just did the same thing. Can I touch you?” Lando asks, genuinely upset that he did the same thing I reprimanded Logan for, the only difference? I craved Lando’s touch, whereas Logan’s sent a nasty shiver down my spine.

Both my hands taking both of Lando’s. One hand I guide to the small of my back and the other I guide to my bump and I watch as Lando’s eyes widen.

This is the first time I’ve let someone other than Lily touch my belly and Lando was determined to take in this moment. The look of excitement evident on his face as he feels her kick.

“OH MY GOSH, DID YOU FEEL THAT? I mean- obviously you felt that, she’s inside of you but SHE KICKED Y/N/N, SHE KICKED!” Lando screamed in excitement, almost like a kid in a candy shop.

The look of adoration and love on Lando’s face made my heart almost burst. I drowned out all the excited squeals from Lando as I pulled him in for a kiss, smiling into it.

“You’re so cute when you’re excited,” I start saying before seeing the engineers ushering Lando to his car "Okay lover boy, give me a kiss and go to your car" I said pulling him right back into a quick kiss.

"Can I give baby a kiss too?" Lando asks with pleading eyes

"LANDO, GET A MOVE ON MATE! RACE STARTS IN 5" Oscar yells from the inside of his car before putting his helmet on

I chuckled before giving Lando a nod watching him as he quickly leans down and presses a firm kiss on the top of my belly before dedicating the race to my unborn daughter.

Dedicating a race to someone is a big task, if you end with a bad position or DNF it makes everything awkward but I have faith that Lando will end up on the podium.

-

We’re now down to the last 10 laps and the gap from Lando in first and Max in second just keeps getting bigger and bigger. The anxiety I’m feeling right now is worse than when I was waiting for my pregnancy test results.

The amount of laps only decreased and with every lap down, the gap grew. Once we were down to the last lap and the gap from Lando to Max was at a whopping 7.7 seconds everyone knew that Lando had secured his first win, he just needed to not fuck up and crash.

Once the checkered flag came into view, tears welled up in my eyes. Not only had Lando secured his first Formula 1 win but he had prior dedicated this race to my babygirl.

As the team ran to the pit lane, Zak came to view and offered me his arm which I gladly took as we made our way to where Lando would soon be.

"Lando's lucky to have you by his side, I know he dedicated his race to the little one," Zak starts. I can tell Zak wants to add more but he doesn't want to overstep a boundary, but with a nod of approval from me, he continues. "How do you feel about this whole Lando-Logan situation?"

"What do you mean?" I cock an eyebrow at him

"I mean with Logan being your daughters biological father but Lando being more of a full-time dad than Logan'll be?" a confused look falls over my features as I think over Zak's question. "I mean no disrespect Y/N, just curious."

"No, no I mean. We wouldn't be in this situation if Logan hadn't acted the way he did, so if he doesn't see his daughter as often as he wants that's his problem." I said nonchalantly shrugging. "But no more Logan talk. Lando actually finished the race and finished first, I think we should all celebrate." I say as I unlock my arm from Zak's as I watch Lando get put down from the crowd of McLaren engineers as he makes his way to me, wrapping an arm around me pulling me into a big sweaty hug.

"Oh my gosh Lando, I love you but you smell incredibly sweaty and it's gonna make me throw up." I say half joking as I gag, not even noticing the slip up. Not at least until I see Lando smile impossibly harder, " what?"

"You said you love me" I didn't even have a chance to process that I did in fact say that I loved him because Lando pulled me into a hot and steamy kiss, one that for sure would also make the news in a few minutes.

"I mean I didn't think that I'd be able to love, especially not after Logan. You changed that for me, but my god, please get on the podium and shower. I'm going to throw up." I say with love, adoration, proudness and sickness in my voice all at once.

"I love you so much more. You and baby" Lando says before pressing another quick kiss to my lips before being dragged to the cool down room

-

After the podium celebration and a shower Lando makes his way to me, pressing a tender kiss to my lips before asking me "All of the grid some team principals are going to this one bar, it's karaoke night. I really want to go but if you're not feeling up to it, we can just stay in at the hotel."

"Baby, you just scored your first win. Of course we can go." I say as I put my hand on his cheek before moving it to his hair, running my finger though it.

-

When we got to the bar we automatically spot the rest of the grid. I mean how could we not, they took up half the bar space?

"Baby, you can go grab a seat, I'm gonna grab us drinks, and before you say anything. Yes, I'm getting you a f/d." Lando said pressing a kiss to my temple.

"You know me so well. I'm gonna go say hi to everyone." I said as I squeezed Lando's hand before making my way to the group of drivers, WAGS, and team principals.

The second I was spotted by the WAGS they all made a beeline towards me peppering me with questions and asking if they could touch my tummy, all of which I gave permission to. I look at the rest of the table, waving at all of them and they all wave back knowing it might be a minute before they get a proper 'hello' because of all the attention my daughter is getting. I had made brief eye contact with Logan offering a tight-lipped smile before feeling a tap on my shoulder.

"Here you go, pretty girl" Lando says as he offers me my f/d which I gladly accept before looking back at Logan, only to find that his spot is empty. I don't give it much thought before I indulge myself in a conversation with the rest of the WAGS as Lando goes and has individual conversations about his win.

"Ladies and gentleman can I have your attention?" some lady says into the mic "the karaoke machine is now on and we already have our first request!" the bar erupts in claps and whoops as we all wonder who the first singer would be

"Singing 'Too Good to Say Goodbye' by Bruno Mars, put your hands together for Logan Sargeant"

My face fell as the song starts

"I've made mistakes, I could have treated you better. I let you get away. There goes my happily ever after." Logan starts, staring into my soul

"Tell me why, why can't we try and start again? This can't be how our story ends. You're more than my girl, you're my best friend. Tell me you remember when, ooh, I was your man and you were my girl It was you and me against the world" tears start welling in my eyes as he continues singing.

A firm hand on my shoulder pulls me out of my thoughts and I turn to see that its Zak

"Don't you love Bruno Mars, why aren't you singing?" I stare at him, the tears on my waterline threatening to fall. I don't answer him though, I just turn my body back to the man on the stage.

"Baby, ain't nobody gonna love me like the way you do. And you ain't never gonna find a love like mine. Tell me what can I do to make it up to you? 'Cause what we got's too good to say goodbye, goodbye." The whole grid is staring at Logan in shock. They all know what he did and he has the nerve to sing this song to me on stage?

"Yeah, I'm still in love with you darlin'. I know you feel the same Oh, what's the point of both of us being broken hearted? I pray it's never too late" Me? Still in love with you? In your dreams Sargeant

"Girl won't you listen? It's you that I'm missin' . Take my hand, I wanna go, I wanna go. If we're gonna fight this fight for better days. I know we're gonna make it. This is the chance, let's take it." From another person's perspective, this would seem like a nice grand gesture to win back the woman of his dreams. I mean who wouldn't want their man to sing a song about wanting a second chance after he royally screwed up?

"Baby, ain't nobody gonna love me like the way you do. And you ain't never gonna find a love like mine. Tell me what can I do to make it up to you? 'Cause what we got's too good to say goodbye goodbye Baby, ain't nobody gonna love me like the way you do. And you ain't never gonna find a love like mine. Tell me what can I do to make it up to you? 'Cause what we got's too good to say goodbye, goodbye" The songs ends and half the bar erupts on claps and whistles as Logan stares in my eyes before talking into the mic.

"Y/N, baby, I know I screwed up. I'm trying to make this work. For you and our babygirl, just please give me a chance. I don't ask for much, really. Just a chance to undo my wrongs, a chance to make you the happiest woman on earth, a chance to rebuild our family. I want a chance to be in my daughter's life" Logan said sniffling as he wiped his nose before continuing "I really hope you liked this and it's enough to change your mind." Logan finished as he hopped off the stage making his way to me

Lando's protective side started to show a bit because the second he picked up that Logan was making his way to me he instinctively stepped in front of me, only backing up when I rested my hand on his bicep.

"Why? Why would you assume that I'll get back with you after that Logan?" I ask, my eyes raking his face for any type of clues. I don't know what I was expecting to come out of his mouth, but the reply he gave me wasn't it. It also not only made my blood boil, but everyone who knew about the situation's blood boil.

"Zak said you would"

I HOPE YOU LIKED THIS ONEEEEEE <3333

Lemme know if I should keep going!!!

taglist:

@luckyladycreator2 @itsmiamalfoy @jeffs77 @ilivbullyingjeongin @forevercaffeinated-lee @daemyratwst @gulphulp @callsignwidow @f1wintermoon13 @teenwolf01 @victoriassecret101 @eddieharrington

https://docs.google.com/forms/d/e/1FAIpQLSesvRpKqBaYY-Ow5IgHoD0gSX6OzJ03qGMXOhHUI6Xg1wfKaA/viewform

[husky-studies]

Concept: Dr Ratio with Ruan Mei's student reader (whos a child) meete Dr ratio's bf aventurine! (Pt 2! A bit inspired by the Aventurine in bed official art)

Warning: relationship between the reader and the characters are strictly platonic, hinted aventio

You can read part 1 here!

Aventurine could be seen clutching his stomach, rolling on the floor while the doctor was covering his flushed face with his one and only mask look alike. You just stared at them with innocent eyes, little did they know those innocent eyes held mischief intent to the duo. The doctor hadn't made a reply, probably because of his flustered state.

"Gosh this kid! I like em already!" Aventurine said between gasps of breathe. "Thank you Mr Aventurine, you're a cool person! Which is why you could do better than that..." You replied while pretending to give Dr Ratio a side eye. Aventurine's shoulder started to shake as he tried to contain his laughter. Looks like he's trying so hard to not give his stomach anymore pain.

Dr Ratio faced Aventurine, his funny-looking mask no longer on his face as he continued to introduce Aventurine to you. "Ahem, incase you didn't know, Aventurine is apart of the IPC." You nodded at him and said "I feel bad knowing you're his colleague." You smiled at the end of the sentence as Dr Ratio could only pinch the space between his eyebrows in frustration. "Anyways which uh...part is he in?" You asked.

"Part? You mean division?" Dr Ratio corrected. "Yeah that, forgot the word. Which one is he?" You repeated the question to be more clear with it. "He's apart of the Ten Stonehearts, other than that he's also apart of the Strategic Investment Department." Dr Ratio explained while Aventurine just smiled at the explanation. There was an awkward silence for awhile before someone spoke up from behind you, calling out your name.

"There you are, I had been looking for you for awhile." You turn around and found yourself looking at your teacher, Ruan Mei. "Did you need me for something?" You asked her. "No, I was just wondering where you left. The critters were looking for you as well." She said. Speaking of critters, you have an idea.

You whispered something in Ruan Mei's ear, she thought for a moment before nodding and pointed towards her lab. As quickly as your little legs could carry you, you sprinted towards her lab. "What did she asked you?" Dr Ratio asked, Aventurine butted in "Im curious as well." Ruan Mei only gave them a small smile, "You'll see."

Not long after she said that, you came back to them while carrying 3 cat critters with you. "What is that for?" Dr Ratio asked. "To keep your boyfriend company while you go beat someone up with your chalk, duh." You jokingly said as Ruan Mei looked at you, then to Aventurine. Aventurine only laughed before accepting the critters you gave him. "Thank you, that's very thoughtful of you. It does get lonely when he's out there beating his students with some chalk~" Aventurine dramatically replied. You two burst out laughing before Ruan Mei made her way towards Dr Ratio. "So, you and him?" She teasingly asked. "I'd rather not reply..." He said as his stone looking statue is back on his face.

Tags: @mitzukitsuna

Should I make a series of Ruan Mei's student!reader? You all seem to enjoy this xD

[janeyseymour]

Love Thy Neighbor- pt 10

Part 1. Part 2. Part 3. Part 4. Part 5. Part 6. Part 7. Part 8. Part 9.

Summary: With your ex-husband in town, this is sure to be interesting.

WC: ~2.4k

I’m in Philly this weekend. We should talk.

The good mood that you were in from waking up in your girlfriend’s arms sours at that text, and she notices.

“Hey,” she whispers as she kisses your temple, also rolling out of bed. “You’re upset.”

“I’m not,” you shrug. “I’m fine. Just… thinking.”

“About?”

“It doesn’t matter,” you sigh. “I should probably go check on El. You comin’?”

The redhead nods and follows you into Ellie’s room, where she’s playing on the floor with a few of her dolls.

“Momma! Mel!” she grins up at the two of you. Immediately, she’s launching herself at you, and if either her or Melissa notice the way that you cling to your daughter only a bit desperately they don’t say anything. You lift your little girl onto your hip and hold her close, smoothing down her wild locks and kissing her temple. Melissa follows suit, and she grins when Ellie kisses her cheek back.

“Breakfast?” your daughter looks to your girlfriend with those sweet eyes of hers.

“Obviously,” Melissa chuckles. “And what does the princess want?”

“Chocolate chip pancakes!” Ellie cheers. When you give her a look, she quickly adds on a, “Pretty please!”

The three of you head for the kitchen, and while your daughter and your girlfriend mix the batter together and start heating up the griddle, you stare at your phone contemplating what you should do.

“Penny for your thoughts, hun?” Melissa breaks your trance as she sets a plate full of the breakfast food in front of you. Ellie comes bouncing over with the butter and syrup a few short moments later.

“We can talk later,” you tell her softly. “When we take El to the park.”

Once you finally get Ellie ready for the park and get yourself ready, you head out. Melissa drives the two of you there, and as soon as she can, Ellie is running for the swings. You and your girlfriend walk hand in hand to find a park bench to sit on and keep an eye on your little girl.

“So, what has my girl down?” the redhead asks you once she’s sure your daughter can’t hear her.

“Jared texted me. Said he’s in Philly, and we should talk.”

Her face flickers through a few different emotions before settling on a neutral face. “And how do you feel about that?”

“Honestly? Like I never want to see him again, but I also have El to think about. He is still her father.”

“And he gave up his parental rights,” she reminds you. “Willingly, and without hesitation.”

“I know, I know,” you sigh as you set your head on her shoulder. “But if he wants to reach out in order to stay in Ellie’s life, I cannot deprive my child of her father.”

“You can,” she tells you.

“But it wouldn’t be right… especially because El… she loved her Daddy before everything got messy.”

“It’s up to you, hun,” your girlfriend says. “But I would be cautious.”

“I know, I know,” you mutter.

Ellie has a blast at the park like she always does, but after about an hour she’s running back to you with rosy cheeks and telling you she’s sleepy. Melissa carries her back to the car, and in the short ten minute drive back to the apartment complex, she falls asleep in her carseat clutching one of the stuffed animals Melissa keeps in her car now. You lift her out of her carseat and hold her tightly as you make your way up to your apartment. You settle on the couch with her, still in your arms while your girlfriend heads for the kitchen.

“Are you good if I make eggplant parm?” she calls softly.

“That sounds great,” you sigh out.

As she cooks dinner, humming quietly to herself, you continue to torture yourself with the pros and cons of texting Jared back. Ultimately, you tell him that if he’s serious, you can meet him for coffee tomorrow- preferably around the time when Melissa will be going to mass.

His response is almost an immediate one. So the two of you set a time and a place, and you know that come tomorrow morning, you’re going to have to make an excuse to your girlfriend as to why you can’t join her for the church service tomorrow.

Ellie stays asleep up until Melissa calls in that dinner is ready. She clings to the redhead through dinner, claiming that she’s warmer than you are. Despite Melissa trying to get her to stay with you (she knows you need Ellie to keep you grounded right now), your daughter insists on staying in her lap.

Your routine through the end of the night goes on as usual, and when you and Melissa finally lay down for bed, you have an awful pit in your stomach as you prepare to lie to her.

“I don’t know what’s happening,” you mumble with your head on her chest. “But I’m not feeling too great right now.”

“Oh?” Melissa looks at you. “What’s goin’ on?”

“Just… cramps. Probably PMS.”

She’s immediately out of bed and grabbing some ibuprofen and the heating pad, and you feel even more guilty at your lie. Melissa is so willing to take care of you and love you through everything.

You’re lulled to sleep with the extra warmth provided by the heat on your abdomen as well as your girlfriend gently combing her fingers through your hair and her soft humming.

The next morning, you wake up and you wish that you were lying to Melissa when you said that your cramps were awful- they really are. But you also know that this is going to be the perfect way to get out of going to the long church service with her, and you know she’ll take Ellie with her to let you ‘rest’.

She does, and you stay in bed until they both head out. And then you run around like a maniac trying to make yourself look presentable to meet your ex-husband. 

You arrive at the coffee shop you agreed to meet at, and he’s already sitting with two cups in front of him. You drop into the seat across from his, and he pushes one of the cups in your direction.

“Hey!” he smiles at you, and it’s that damned charming smile that made you fall for him in the first place. 

You stare at him for a few minutes in a steely silence. Why did you come here? “What do you want?” is all you ask him as you take a sip of the coffee in hopes of it soothing your nerves. You cradle your abdomen in hopes that your cramps begin to subside soon.

“Damn,” he chuckles. “I come all the way out here to meet you, and that’s the greeting I get?”

“I didn’t ask you to. What do you want?” you ask him again.

He looks a bit stunned that this is the approach you’ve decided to take with him. He’s so used to you being meek and mild, warm and gentle. “I just wanted to catch up.”

“I’m doing just fine out here, with my daughter,” you say shortly.

His eyes go soft. “How is Ellie?”

“She’s fine.”

“C’mon, Y/N,” your ex sighs. “Listen, I’m sorry about everything that happened.”

“You should be,” you laugh bitterly. “You broke apart our family, and for what? To go fuck someone newer and younger? Tighter?” you quote back one of his texts to Jen that you saw after you caught him in bed with her. 

“Y/N, I was an idiot,” he tells you. You nod with a smirk. “I came out here to tell you that I want us to get back together.”

“Not a chance in hell,” you snort.

“Then at least let me see Ellie,” he tries. “C’mon. You owe me that.”

“I don’t owe you shit,” you tell him. “You cheated on me, and then signed away your parental rights without hesitation. And I’m still waiting for all of your child support money. So, I see it that if I don’t have the money in my hand by the end of this meeting-”

“Where is Ellie?” he asks quietly. “I was hoping she would be with you.”

“With our neighbor,” you say. “Not that it’s any of your business.”

“You left her with your neighbor?” he asks you incredulously.

You nod. “I did. I trust Melissa- my girlfriend.”

He raises both of his eyebrows at that reveal. “Moved on so quick?”

“You moved on before you even took your ring off, so don’t give me any fucking shit, Jared,” you hiss out. “Babysitter fucker.”

“I didn’t realize you still swung that way. I thought I fucked the gay out of you,” he smirks.

“Oh, eat shit,” you stand from your place and throw your hot coffee in his face. “Don’t bother getting in touch unless it’s to fork over the child support. If I don’t have it by the end of the month, I will be getting a lawyer.”

You head out to leave the shop, and who do you run into on your way out the door but Melissa and Ellie. Your girlfriend gives you quite the questioning look, considering you were sick in bed an hour ago. 

“Momma!” your little girl shouts as she slams into your body to hug you.

You groan softly at the contact, but lift her into your arms and hold her tightly, praying she doesn’t see her father. Melissa kisses you at the same time that Ellie gasps, points, and shouts, “Daddy!”

You close your eyes and give a face of pure defeat. You were just caught.

“Ellie girl!” your ex-husband replies with the same amount of enthusiasm, and your daughter is wiggling her way out of your arms to run over to her father. He scoops her up into the biggest hug, despite the fact that he’s still covered in your beverage.

“You came here to meet Jared?” Melissa whispers as she eyes the man.

You nod sheepishly before attempting to make your way over to the two of them. You have to stop about halfway there, gasping in pain as your stomach twists in knots. Your girlfriend follows, an arm wrapped around you protectively.

“Daddy, you’re all wet!” Ellie giggles.

“You know Daddy,” he chuckles in the easy way that he used to with her. “Clumsy, clumsy.”

“Silly Daddy,” your little girl playfully rolls her eyes and sighs dramatically.

“How are you, little girl?”

Your daughter grins as she launches into her stories. “I love it here! I love school, and Momma and I go to the park all the time with Miss Mel like we are today!” she points to Melissa. “That’s Miss Mel, and I love her. She’s my favoritest person in the whole wide world!”

You have to bite back a snort when you see the hurt expression on his face, and you beam when you see your girlfriend’s proud look. You don’t even care that you aren’t your daughter’s favorite person right now because at least it isn’t him. 

“And Miss Ellie’s favorite person in the world brought her down here to pick up some coffee and doughnuts for being such a good little girl at church today,” Melissa cuts in. “Which I think we should do, what do you think El?”

The little girl absolutely beams as she remembers why they’re here, and she runs for the redhead. 

They head off towards the counter, and your eyes turn to stone again as you face your ex-husband. 

“I don’t know what kind of game you’re trying to play here, but quit it. You’re not getting her back,” you hiss. You turn on your heel and make your way up to where your girlfriend and daughter are ordering.

“I already ordered your coffee,” Melissa tells you with a kiss to the temple. She readjusts Ellie so she can grab her wallet from her pocket, but before she can insert the card, Jared is there handing over some money.

“I got this one,” he says cooly. “For my little girl, and my wife.”

There’s a fire in Melissa’s eyes, and before she can get anything out, Ellie pipes up. “You and Momma aren’t married anymore!”

Your mouth, along with Melissa’s and Jared’s, form into shocked faces. Your little girl is right.

“But thanks for breakfast anyway,” you laugh in his face. “Bye.”

You hope that he’ll just leave in anger, but he doesn’t. Instead, he turns his eyes even softer and his voice even smoother. “Well, I was hoping that I could maybe tag along to the park to spend some time with my little girl who I’ve missed so much.”

Fuck. Now he’s using Ellie against you, and you know your daughter will beg you to let him come.

“I missed you too, Daddy,” your daughter whispers softly, but she keeps her hold on Melissa.

“Not today, sweetheart,” the redhead says quietly as she runs a hand through your daughter’s hair. “Your momma isn’t feeling super well, so today is going to be an easy day.”

You nod along.

“Maybe another day this week then,” he shrugs. He isn’t giving up. “I’m here all week for a work conference.” With that, he kisses Ellie’s head, kisses your own, and then heads out.

A tense silence washes over Melissa and you as you wait for your coffees to finish being prepared. Ellie just hums to herself softly as she lays her head down on the redhead’s shoulder and fiddles with the ends of your girlfriend’s hair.

Your names are called, you grab the coffees, and make your way out to her car- you silently thank God that you won’t have to take the Septa now.

No words are spoken between you and your girlfriend for the entirety of the drive home, and when you make your way to your apartment, she turns for her own door.

“You aren’t coming in?” you ask quietly, and you hate the way that your voice breaks.

“I need ten minutes,” she says scarily calmly. “To change and collect myself.”

Fuck. She’s mad. Deciding that it’s best to give her the ten minutes she’s requested, you unlock your own front door and take Ellie to the kitchen table to enjoy her breakfast.

Tags (and let me know if you want to be included!): @schemmentis @thesapphictimelady @marvel210 @itisdoctortoyousir @morgana-larkin @thesamesweetie @doesthatsuggestanythingtoyou @marvels--slut @gwennybriggs @megamultifandomtrashposts @nothere1111 @lemz378 @http-sam @melissaschemmentisbranzino @imaginesmultifandoms @sexysapphicshopowner @lilfartbox1 @maybe-a-humanbean @imlike-so-gaydude

[katebishopshands]

But I’m a Cheerleader ! Pt. 4

(Cheerleader!Kate Bishop/reader) (18+)

Pt.1

Pt.2

Pt. 3

»-------------¤-------------«

The end of cheer camp nears. With three days left in the week to carry your team to victory, you only have one thing standing in your way.

Your feelings for Kate.

No longer being able to let your feelings for her hide in the depths of your subconscious, you do something you never thought you’d do.

You talk to her.

»-------------¤-------------«

You search for her eye for the rest of the day. You swear you can feel her staring at the back of your head during lunch, but when you turn around to look at her shes talking with America and Clint like nothing had happened.

Like she hadn’t shoved her hands down your spanx hours earlier.

Like you hadn’t done the same to her a day prior.

Yelena beams to you on your way to the last rotation of the day, conditioning.

“Today was great, wasn’t it? I think we’re really onto something this season” she’s talking nonsense, not even making eye contact with you. She toys with the end of a blonde braid as she keeps up with the rest of the team. You adjust your backpack on your shoulders, glancing behind you in hopes to see Kate.

You see her, but she doesn’t see you.

Was the moment in the locker room her way of calling it quits? Whatever relationship that had been developing, squashed in under 24 hours? Maybe the sweatshirt was her way of saying goodbye.

“Yeah uh, I don’t know Yelena, but I think we were on fire today!” You smile back at her, not wanting to show her the internal conflict you were going through as you stepped through the doors of the training facility.

It shouldn’t bother you that Kate ignores you throughout the last rotation of the day, throughout dinner and the rest of the night. If anything, you should be happy that she’s finally done tormenting you. But you’re not. You crave her eyes on you, the snarky comments, the snotty looks. You crave her. Always have. Since you started cheering, Kate had been with you. At competitions, try outs, cheer camps. She’s a constant in your life that you didn’t even realize.

So now having a day almost completely void of her, felt wrong.

You played with the sleeves of the sweatshirt you had stolen, well now Kate had given to you. Just biding time until you got the energy to get up and take your shower. The tie faded tie blanket you had made sophomore year of high school sat under you. On top of the blood, sweat and tears from training that day, you also hadn’t really gotten a chance to clean yourself up since the…incident with Kate in the locker room that morning. A shower sounded so good, but your body ached.

Along with the aching muscles, your heart ached over the lack of Kate’s attention during the latter half of the day. You felt like a spoiled child. You hated admitting that feelings of some sort had started growing for the dark haired girl. But they had, in some fucked up sort of way.

You’re getting up from your bed, grabbing the towel that hung on the back of the door to the bathroom after not being able to take the smell of your own BO any longer. But you stop before you turn the bathroom door handle.

You had to talk to Kate.

You couldn’t keep letting her take over your mind. She hadn’t even done anything really, but god was she distracting. You couldn’t live through the rest of camp looking over your shoulder to see if she was noticing you.

You hung the towel back up on the door, sighing a bit as you hung your head before walking over to the door that led to the hall. Your bare feet stuck to the cool linoleum flooring. You knew deep down that you probably should be wearing socks or some sort of slip on shoe to avoid athletes foot or wherever, but you were too tired to care.

Hand colliding with the metal door handle that led to the hallway, you turn it and open your door. You’re looking at the ground as you do so, ready to make the short walk to Kate’s room so you can tell her how you feel.

“Um…hi…?” Your eyes flick up to the voice that had just spoken up.

It’s Kate, her hand still stretched out, reaching towards your door handle. Her hair is down . It’s a little wet from a shower you assume. Her pajama shorts low on her hips once again. You’re able to see the purple jeweled jewelry she has in her belly button piercing more clearly than earlier. Your mouth goes dry.

“I was just..um..” you’re sputtering, suddenly forgetting why you were even going to see Kate in the first place. She chuckles slightly at you, letting her head fall for a moment before looking back at you.

“Can we talk? And I mean actually talk” she’s still smiling, not looking like she’s mad at you. This settles the uneasy feeling in your stomach.

“It’s like you stole the words out of my mouth.” You take a step out of her way, beckoning her to take a step into your room .

She obliges and steps past you, you’re able to smell her shampoo from her shower. Coconut. You knew that already, having woken up to her hair in your face that morning. You’re suddenly insecure about the way you smell after deciding to ditch your shower in favor of going and talking with Kate.

Kate turns to you before she enters fully into the bedroom area of the dorm. She picks at the skin on her lip with her teeth , her hands clenched at her sides. She’s swaying back and forth, clearly in thought.

“So..you wanted to talk?” You interrupt her thought process. You couldn’t stand having her this close to you when you didn’t know where this newfound relationship stood. The last time you had spoken it had felt like a goodbye, but now you weren’t sure.

“Right! Yeah..of course..” Kate shakes her head a bit, as if she was trying to shake her ideas out.

“I think..” she starts. You brace yourself for impact. This was it. This was where she broke everything off with you, and you went back to hating each others guts, or even possibly ignoring each other for the rest of your lives. You look at your feet, not wanting to meet her watery blue eyes.

“I think we started this off wrong” she finishes, and it’s not what you were expecting to come out of her mouth in that moment. Kate Bishop admitting she had done something wrong, it was a Christmas miracle.

“Oh?” You look up in surprise, finally looking at her. She looks nervous actually. No longer the confident girl who had asked you to ride her thigh last night, or the girl who had followed you to the locker rooms. She looks small. She’s fidgeting with the seams of her pajama shorts, bouncing from foot to foot.

“Yeah, I mean like.. I usually don’t do this kind of thing..well I do but I don’t know..”

You cock you head at her, not really sure what she’s trying to get at.

“I’m not sure I’m following” Kate sighs and goes to sit down on your bed. She looks at you expectantly before nodding her head next to her, inviting you to sit down next to her. You mindlessly follow her request and sit an almost too far distance away from her. She raises an eyebrow at you but continues.

“I’m sorry I just..I’m used to getting with girls suddenly but there’s something about you.. I don’t know. You’ve bugged me since the day I met you..”

“So you’re saying I’m different that the other girls you’ve been with?” You scoff a little at how cliche it sounds.

“Yes! But it’s not like that I just…I’d like to get to know you…like actually get to know you..” Kate won’t look at you. She’s staring at the chipped purple polish on her fingers, playing with the hang nails that cling to her cuticles.

“Kate..” she looks up at you. If you didn’t know any better you’d think she had tears in her eyes. She’s embarrassed you realize. The ego machine that was Kate bishop was embarrassed infront of you.

“Are you saying you want to actually have a conversation with me and not just fuck my brains out?” She goes red at this. You laugh a little.

“I mean if you want to put it that bluntly…yes? If that’s okay with you.” Her voice is hopeful. She’s trying to hide behind awkward laughter, but you can tell that she’s wanting you to say yes.

“Look, don’t get me wrong I REALLY like fucking your brains out, but I think in this case we need to get past the enemies thing and get to the friend part first..” she ends her sentence with an awkward laugh.

“Oh so we’re enemies?” You lean forward, smiling a little at the idea that Kate thought you were enemies.

“You told me last night that you ‘ hate me’, I’d take that as being enemies” she rolls her eyes a little, her attitude coming back for a second.

“Maybe I wouldn’t hate you if you weren’t such a show off”

“And maybe I wouldn’t show off so much if you didn’t give me dirty looks all the time” she snaps back from your snarky remark. You put your hands up as a sign of surrender.

“Okay Kate Bishop…let’s be friends then…ask me whatever you want”

➴➵➶➴➵➶➴➵➶ ➴➵➶➴➵➶➴➵➶ ➴➵➶➴➵➶➴➵➶

Kate’s legs are crossed over your own. Your back against the stone wall of the dorm room that your bed sat against. You’re both laughing at some story she was finishing up.

“There’s no way you’re that scared of horses” you say in between laughs, trying to catch your breath. One of your hands sits atop Kate’s knee, a thin barrier of sweat between your exposed skin.

“I’m being so for real right now, I ran right into the road after seeing the Central Park carriage horses for the first time” she’s laughing too. Her nose crinkling as she smiles big. She’s cute.

This is the first time you’ve looked at Kate and thought she was cute. Not hot, or sexy or anything of the sort. She’s cute. She’s being herself in the moment, not the villain you had made her out to be in your head. She’s someone who if you had met under different circumstances, you’d be totally head over heels for almost instantly.

“My mom had to run into the road after me to make sure I didn’t get squashed” she’s grinning at you.

“And…you’re still scared of horses?”

Kate looks away from you.

“No comment” she continues to not look at you, opting instead to play with the ties in your blanket

You scoff at her and shove her shoulder a lightly. Kate leans back and rubs at her shoulder where you had hit her.

“No fucking way you’re scared of horses, you’re 22!” you nearly yell at her. You’re in awe. True awe. In the past two days you’ve learned some crazy things about about Kate, but this one took the cake. She rolls her eyes at you, black hair sliding off her shoulder and falling behind her back.

“Look, I don’t trust them. They know something we don’t, I swear!” Kate is desperate to plead her case, but you’re not having it.

“You’re ridiculous” it comes out breathy as you look down to where your hand still sat atop her knee. The bed dips and shakes a little as Kate scoots a a little closer to you, her purple polished hand finding your thigh. Your boxers rise up a little as you shift a bit. Either it be from nerves or to relive the growing heat in your core, you’re not sure. Kate rubs her thumb over your thigh.

“Would it be ridiculous of me to say that you might be into it?” Half lidded blue eyes bore into the side of your face. You dare to sneak a glance at her out of the corner of your eye. She’s waiting for a response.

“You’re ridiculous” you repeat, this time more quietly, less confident than before. She nods her head a little .

“That’s what I thought” before you knew it she’s shifting her position on you, swinging her leg over you to straddle your lap. You hold your hands on her waist, looking up at her with your brows furrowed in confusion not exactly sure what she was trying to get at.

Kate leans down and presses a gentle kiss to your lips. You kiss her back.

The last two hours you had learned more about Kate Bishop than you had ever intended on. Her mom had essentially raised her herself after her dad passed away. She had gone to an all girls school for high school. Despite being the charismatic powerhouse that you knew from cheer, she struggled to have a lot of close friends.

Kate Bishop was nice. A hell of a lot nicer than you were. Always judging Kate, chalking her up to some rich girl who got eve try thing she had wanted, but you were so wrong.

And now here she was, fingers tugging at the hairs that sat on the base of your neck as she kissed you. She rocks into the kiss a little, sending your back against the cool stone of the wall behind you. You can’t tell what gives you the goosebumps that prick up on your arms and exposed skin of your legs; the feeling of the wall through your tshirt or Kate’s lips on your own.

Kate pulls away, a little out of breath and looks down at your. Her hair is back over one shoulder, it’s almost fully dry now.

“What happened to not wanting to do anything again until we’re friends? “ you jab at her, squeezing her hips a little. You can’t help but tease her. The last couple of hours had been entirely too nice for your liking. She groans and rolls her eyes.

“Are we not friends yet? I told you about my dead dad..I think that means things are getting pretty serious” she’s joking, but the undertone of her words is legitimate.

You run your hands up her back, nails catching slightly on the cropped tank top she wore. Kate shivers. Sitting up slightly, you let your nose graze hers. She looks at you and blinks a few times expectantly.

“I don’t know Katie…” your thumbs are rubbing small circles on her back. Kate takes a small breath of air in anticipation.

“I’m honestly still a little wigged out about the horse phobia” you grin at her, moving your face closer to hers and letting your noses brush once again.

“but..I guess..”

“Please” Kate cuts you off, no she begs you. Thick brows furrowed, full lips slightly parted as she releases her breath onto your face.

“I guess I’d call us friends now.”

Kate’s resolve crumbles quickly. She slings her hands over your shoulders, grabbing at the hair at the base of your neck again. She’s tugging on them, eliciting pleased sighs out of you as you kiss her.

You’re holding her, pressing her body into yours. Her chest pressed against yours as you fight for control of the kiss. Kate’s tilting her head to get better access to you. Hot, open mouthed kisses shared between you break the would be silence of the dorm room.

For the second time while in the process of kissing Kate, you think of your neighbor and best friend, Yelena. Wondering what she would think of if she heard you sucking face with your biggest rival. You shudder, making a mental note to keep it down if you guys do end up banging.

Kate detaches her mouth from yours and works downward . A kiss to the corner of your mouth, your chin, your neck, right above the collar of your shirt. She lifts off of your for a minutes, her fingers playing with the bottom of your shirt. It’s an old competition shirt, you think you gotten it when you were maybe 17. Kate eyeballs it for a moment. She laughs.

“We won this competition…you guys came in second.” Of course she had to have brought that up. You scoff at her.

“Oh you bitch” you push her off of you, adjusting her position so her head fell on your pillow. Kate laughs at you as she falls backwards. Her dark hair sprawls out behind her onto the faded pink pillowcase. It was some ancient Disney princess pillow case from when you were like four, it had been to every cheer camp with you .

You swap your positions, now straddling Kate’s hips. She keeps laughing as you start kissing her neck.

“Wouldn’t be the first time I heard you call me that”

Kate is incredibly smug for someone who was under you. Confident gaze flitting over your body. How she found you attractive in that moment was above you. The faded competition shirt, the tattered boxers, the fact that you hadn’t showered. When you had packed for the week you didn’t intend on anyone that wasn’t Yelena seeing you in your pajamas. But you found yourself straddled on top of your arch enemy, core throbbing with want.

You kiss up her neck, sucking on her jaw. Kate’s hands tangle in your hair, yanking in the strands a little. She whines a little. You nip at her jaw a little following it with your tongue to soothe the blossoming hickey.

Kate arches her back upward, successfully colliding your chests and your crotches. You hiss into her neck, letting your head hang for a moment as she bumps into you, your clit colliding with the material of your boxers.

Kate takes note of the way you stutter on top of her.

“Feel good?” She gently gathers your hair in a free hand, pulling your head up slightly so you can meet her face. You flush. You were so tough a few moments ago, but now that Kate’s got you under her gaze you shrink down. Too embarrassed to admit that you wanted her to shove her fingers down your shorts again.

You can see the hickey bruising on her jawline. You hadn’t even thought about the consequences of doing that. You had just wanted to hear Kate make her pretty noises. You sit up, putting your hand over your mouth.

“Shit I’m sorry Kate” she looks at you confused, leaning up on her elbows.

“For what exactly?”

“I accidentally gave you a fucking hickey. I wasn’t even thinking about it” your hands are over your face. You really didn’t want to blow this whole thing you had going with Kate. After your conversation and actually getting to know her, you thought that even outside of a sexual relationship you might actually be able to be friends with her. But no matter what? Neither of you were ready to be in the public eye.

Kate sits up fully. You feel your body drag a little with hers as she crosses her legs under her. She takes your wrists, so incredibly gently. When you had embarrassingly enough imagined Kate Bishop in these scenarios before you thought she’d be cocky, mean, maybe even a little demeaning and rough.

But Kate Bishop is gentle.

Removing your hands from your face, Kate shakes her head at your a little once you meet eyes.

“It’s okay, really”

“Really?”

She nods her head and your stomach feels a bit better, the guilt eating away at you subsidizing for a moment.

“And besides, I’ve got concealer, no one will notice.”

She’s so nice to you. It’s shocking. After years of getting in each others faces and endless taunting, Kate is nice to you.

She leans into you, kissing your gently at first. But as her hands travel down your body, starting at your cheeks, and then your shoulders, to your breasts and downwards, she gets more aggressive. You rock your head with her, letting Kate dominate the kiss.

This wasn’t the rage filled make out sesh from the night prior, or the quickie in the locker room, something had changed between you.

Kate’s gently pushing you backwards so your head barely sits below the edge of the twin extra long mattress. You let her, sighing into her as your back touches down. Kate’s hands have found your hips, her fingers pulling lightly at the top of your boxers. You lift your hips just enough for Kate to pull them and your underwear down your thighs. You never take your mouth off of hers, sighing into her mouth as the air of the dorm hits your freshly exposed core.

Kate reassuringly places a hand on your hip, rubbing light circles on the warm skin there.

“You good?” She pulls away from you and meets your eyes. Her finger keeps rubbing at your hip. You swallow. You’re more than good. Never in your whole life had you thought you’d actually be civil with Kate, but here you are.

You nod.

“Words please. I’ve heard you be louder than that on the mat” Kate smiles, her teeth perfectly white and straight. You wonder if she had braces at some point.

You roll your eyes. As if she really needed you to say it, she had already had her fingers inside you that day.

“Yeah..I’m good” you whisper. Kate’s not happy with your answer, but it’s sufficient enough because she shimmies her way down to her stomach. Face eventually level with your cunt, which at this point is effectively soaked because of the stop and go make out sesh you guys had been locked in for the last 20 minutes or so. She wastes no time as she goes in, nose bumping your sensitive clit as she begins licking at you.

You jolt, a strangled moan breaking through your lips. Kate had not prepped you in the slightest so the sudden attention almost jump started your body.

You feel Kate smile into you as she reached a hand up to your breast and starts to knead at it. You moan again. Kate continues licking and sucking at your folds. The mixed sensations of Kate swapping between lickingg at your labia and sucking on your clit, along with kneading at your breast occasionally tweaking your nipple has you shamelessly moaning.

It’s almost like you’ve forgotten you’re at cheer camp, and you’re now a horny 16 year old hooking up with her first girlfriend in some beat up car.

You grow tired of the barrier that is your shirt between Kate and your skin. You begin to grasp at the hem of it. You arch your back to make it more easy to get the shirt off of you, in the process pushing your cunt even more into Kate’s face. She moans and swirls her tongue around your clit. You gasp, dropping the shirt from your grip to clasp your hand over your mouth in an effort to keep quiet.

Kate laughs at you and goes back to work.

Shaky hands finally grabbing onto the faded fabric and pulling it over your head. You throw it behind you and forcefully place Kate’s hand back on your tit. She tweaks your nipple again and you jump.

Kate looks up from her position between your legs, blue eyes clouded in thought and a smile still on her juice covered lips. You were close at this point. The extra stimulation to your breast was what you needed as you rut against Kate’s face.

You’re about to announce to Kate that you’re close to finishing when she stops.

“Kate I was about to fini-“

She shushes you, quickly sitting up. You’re about to protest again until Kate begins to pull off her own shirt. You close your mouth and stare. Respectfully of course. But you think to yourself that she has the prettiest boobs you’ve ever seen. Kate catches you staring as she throws her shirt towards where yours landed behind you.

“ you like the view?”

“Uh no” you lie. Admitting it was too embarrassing. She leans forward and kisses you. You sit up, leaning into Kate. While kissing you, Kate begins to shimmy her way out of her own shorts, leaving her them along with her underwear discarded on the opposite end of the bed .

She pulls away from you. You had seen her naked before. But this time was different. That was you two fucking out your feelings for each other. Whatever this was, you couldn’t put your finger on it but it wasn’t that.

You take Kate’s naked form in as she props your right leg up and slings it over her shoulder. She hovers her own cunt over yours, her own right leg going over your left.

“Kate what are you doing?”

“God I’ve been waiting to find the right girl to try this with” her eyes are on where your cunts almost collide. Her chest is heaving, blue eyes blown with her dark curls falling over her shoulder again. Her tone is deep and filled with lust. You’re about to lean forward to brush her hair off her shoulder again when she she essentially sits down on your center, her swollen clit catching on yours. The raw sensation of your overly sensitive bud colliding with Kate’s warmth sends your back towards the mattress again.

You see stars. When you had heard your friends talk about seeing stars during sex you thought they were joking but having Kate Bishop sit her own pussy against yours was what officially broke you.

That was, until she started moving.

Kate begins to grind herself against you, sending your body up and down with every thrust of her hips. You’re silently screaming as she does so. You have to put your own hand in your mouth to keep any sounds from escaping. Kate’s panting, her thick brows furrowed as sweat drips from her hairline inbetween them. She’s reaching for your tits as she continues to thrust into you.

Sweat drips down your own back and inbetween your asscheeks, eventually ending on the fitted sheet beneath you that seemed to slip farther off the mattress with every one of Kate’s thrusts. Kate’s moaning above you. Her heads thrown back as she squeezes your boobs, using them to anchor herself into her motions.

“Jesus Christ Kate” you whine. Your hands are reaching anywhere. You need something to bring you back down to earth. The feeling of Kate against you is so raw and intoxicating you can’t help but feel like this is a dream. Some insanely perverted dream. You would’ve continued to think it was a dream, until Kate herself whines from above you.

Her clit catching on yours causing her hips to stutter. Your breath catches in your throat at this, which is a sign for Kate to pick up her pace. She leaves marks on your tits as she pounds into you. Red crescent marks framing your nipples from her dull nails pressing into the supple skin there. You plant the one foot on the mattress and begin to meet her thrusts, frantically humping into the air in an effort to meet your climax.

With each thrust your clits kiss and elicit a high pitched whine or moan from you both. At this point you didn’t care who heard you, you wanted to cum. You wanted Kate Bishop to make you come.

“God you’re doing so good” Kate mumbles, her rhythm faltering. She plants a kiss on your ankle. Your cunt flutters around nothing at her praise and sudden affection. Your release is approaching faster than you’d like it to. Kate teasing you earlier hasn’t done you any favors.

Before you’d like it to, your body tenses up, hips off the mattress and you cum. Your calves clench, your ass clenches and so do your eyes. Your whole body goes limp under Kate as she continues to rut into you, desperately trying to finish herself. You shake as she does so, beginning to feel over stimulated every time her clit bumps against yours. You’re about to push her off when she moans quietly and her hips stutter to a halt.

She looks down at you as she catches her breath. Waiting a moment before she removes your leg from her shoulder, you wince at the feeling. On top of being sore from the days work, your hip is now sore from being locked in that position for god knows how long Kate had you there. She’s gentle with you, guiding your leg back down onto the mattress before lifting herself of of you.

The sound of your mixed release sends shivers down your spine and you both wince at the lack of each other’s presence. Kate brushes some hair out of your eyes and leans down again to kiss you. You reciprocate as you sit up, wincing with every adjustment because you were so sore.

“You did really good..I really meant that” Kate says between a whisper and her usual speaking voice. She’s avoiding your eyes again, back to the shy girl who had came into your room a few hours again. Kate traces a circle in your thigh, eyes focused on that.

“Thanks” you say through a smile. “You were pretty good too. I mean that was…” you take her hand in yours, you now rubbing circles on the top of her hand.

“Yeah..it was.”

Kate looks towards the door, then to where her shirt was behind you, and then towards her shorts at the other end of the bed.

“Well I should..” she begins to move to go collect her clothes, getting one foot onto the cool flooring.

“Stay..” you reach for her. You’re not sure what came over you, but you want her to stay. Genuinely. Not even for more sex. Just to lay with her, run your nails up and down her arms. To count the freckles on her body.

“Please stay..” it was your turn to beg tonight. At first you can’t read Kate’s expression. Her lips are slightly downturned into a pout and her head leans to the side. She almost looks confused. The corners of her mouth slowly turn upwards into a smirk and her cheeks flush. She quickly gets up, running across the room to turn the light off, and then jumps back into your bed, her head back on your old Disney princess pillow. She holds her arms out for you to join her.

Kate stays the night.

»-------------¤-------------«

DARRRRRLINGGGGG, GUESS WHOS BACK FROL JAIIIIILLLL

No but for real this took forever and I apologize for that, but I’m actually like, really proud of it?? Something about taking my time to really work on the quality of it was really refreshing.

This IS NOT the last part, but I do think part 5 will be. This concept has been so fun to write, but I’ve got a fic on my other blog I’ve been neglecting even worse than this one.

Mwah mwah mwah love you all so much ✨🏹

»-------------¤-------------«

[stevie-petey]

episode two: the weirdo on maple street

Trying to ease the awkwardness, you hold up a poster and offer it to them, but Steve snatches it from your grasp. “Henderson, didn’t know you were also a little know-it-all. Why don’t you share your review sheet with the rest of us?” He says, casting a teasing look your way. It isn’t until he inspects the piece of paper that he finally notices that it’s a missing poster for a child, not a review sheet. “Oh, shit. I’m so sorry.” You snatch the poster back from him. “You’re an idiot, Steve Harrington.”

summary: you use your limited psych knowledge to help a bald girl, you force jonathan to accept $20 and he's later an ass to you, steve doesn't know what a "missing" poster looks like, and it's really hard being a single mother to now four kids.

rating: general, but there's cursing as usual and steve being... well, steve - but hes still season 1 steve so give him some time

warnings: cursing, fem!reader, use of y/n, and there's more angst in this chapter with some fighting between reader and jonathan, so fair warning.

words: 10.1k (the longest thing ive ever written)

before you swing in: i'm almost done with chapter 4, so here's a sweet treat as i cram for exams lmao. some housekeeping: should i do a tag list ? i got a few questions about it, so pls let me know soldiers. also, i feel the need to clarify that i adore nancy but for plot reasons - reader and her don't really get along (but they def will later, trust me). season 1 nancy and steve are just so silly. anyways, i hope y'all enjoy this loooong chapter. the rest definitely aren't as lengthy due to plot, but wow. i amazed myself. carry on !

-

Your jeans drip onto the Wheeler’s carpet, and you’ve definitely left a wet imprint on the couch cushion beneath you. The other boys are dripping as well, but all their attention is on the girl in front of them. 

After finding her in the woods, your motherly instincts kicked in, immediately removing your coat to place on her and gently ushering her to your bike and demanding that the boys go back to Mike’s. Your mom is home, so your house was out of the question, and it’s always been easy sneaking into the Wheeler’s, anyways. 

Once you all had made it back, you guided the girl onto the couch and sat next to her. You refuse to let her go too far from you, having no idea where she came from or why, but regardless you know she’s too young for any of it to have been good. 

Which leads you to now: wearily watching the boys stare at the girl as if she’s some science experiment, asking her a million questions a second.

Bless them and their little prepubescent minds. 

Lucas reaches out to touch her, and before you can nudge him away, Mike slaps at his hand. “Stop it! You’re freaking her out!”

“She’s freaking me out!” Lucas retaliates, which honestly? That’s fair. The girl hasn’t said anything yet, even after your multiple attempts to get her to do so. No matter how much you try, you can’t coax a response out of her. 

“I bet she’s deaf.” Your brother offers, suddenly clapping his hands to scare her, making both you and her flinch. “Not deaf…”

You roll your eyes at him. “Guys, she’s probably just really scared right now. We should give her some space,” you look at both Lucas and Dustin, “and time,” now you look at Mike. The three boys deflate a bit. 

“She’s probably cold,” Mike says after a moment of silence, and you nod at his suggestion. Seeing your agreement, he walks over to a basket of clothes and takes out some pajamas.

While Mike is away, thunder rumbles and the girl jumps, unconsciously getting closer to you. You wrap an arm around her reassuringly, making note that she doesn’t like loud noises. If anything, she’s showing more and more signs of trauma response, which makes you uneasy. You remember Hopper saying something about Will being in danger. What are the odds that this little girl was running from something as well?

“Here, these are clean.” Mike’s return breaks you from your thoughts, and you take the clothes from him and stand up. You thank him, then offer your hand to the girl. She looks at you uncertainly. 

“It’s okay,” you reassure her. “Let’s go get you dressed in some warm clothes. I’m right here, sweetheart.” 

“She’s super nice.” Dustin says, trying to help.

Lucas adds, “Yeah, you can trust her.” 

“She’s alright.” Is all Mike offers.

You give them all an appreciative smile, even if Mike is being a bit of an ass, and then you feel a small, cold hand wrap around yours. The girl stands up, looking around shyly, and you lead her to the bathroom. When you go to close the door, she stops you.

Mike has followed, seeing the interaction. “You don’t want it closed?”

Her voice is quiet, solemn. “No,”

You and Mike look at each other, and he voices what you’re thinking. “So you can speak.”

He looks excited about this new information, and you shove his head out of the doorway. She needs to get dressed. “We’ll leave the door cracked, okay?”

She nods at you, and you stand guard outside the door. It’s not that you don’t trust the boys, but Mike has only known her for ten minutes and he’s already been nicer to her than you’ve ever seen him with anyone else. The only other person he’s this soft spoken to is Will, so you’re protective of her. 

You can hear the boys discussing tonight’s events from the living area while the girl gets dressed. They sound scared, and a part of you can’t blame them. While you’re fairly certain that the girl isn’t dangerous, it’s still a creepy situation. Once again, Hopper’s new theory surrounding Will floats through your mind. This all can’t be some coincidence. 

Sighing, you approach the boys and catch a bit of the conversation. 

“Our houses become Alcatraz.” You hear Lucas saying, and you figure they’ve finally pieced together that there’s no way any of you can tell anyone about the girl. None of you were supposed to be out tonight. As much as you know you should tell an adult, you also need to be able to help Jonathan with finding Will. If your mom locks the house down, you’re doomed. 

“Lucas is right,” the boys turn to you. “We can’t go to anyone about this just yet, but I also don’t think it’s a good idea to hide her. She’s been through something terrible, it’s obvious. Tonight, I say she gets some rest. We can figure out what to do later.” 

Mike nods, for once agreeing wholeheartedly with you. “She’ll sleep here tonight-”

Dustin’s eyes widen in horror, “You’re letting a girl-”

You clamp your hand over his mouth, motioning for Mike to continue.

“Thanks, Y/N. In the morning, she sneaks around my house, goes to the front door and rings my doorbell. My mom will answer and know exactly what to do. She’ll send her back to Pennhurst,”

They think she’s from Pennhurst? You think, but don’t verbalize it.

“Or wherever she comes from. We’ll be totally in the clear! And tomorrow night, we go back out, and this time we find Will.”

You gotta hand it to Mike Wheeler, he may be a pain in the ass, but he’s a smart pain in the ass. The plan is pretty sound, so long as he follows through with it. However, it’s him following through with it that leaves you a bit unsure. 

He looks at you for approval, and you hesitantly nod. “It’s a pretty good plan, Wheeler. So long as you stick to it.” 

Lucas and Dustin nod along with you, there’s an unspoken sense of doubt that Mike will actually be able to turn the girl over to his mom. Then she walks out, dressed now in some of Nancy’s old clothes. She draws into herself when you all turn to her, shy. You walk over and offer your hand again, which she accepts. 

“Mike, go find her something to sleep on. Dustin, we gotta go soon before mom notices we’re gone.”

Both boys comply, with Mike searching for a sleeping bag and Dustin packing up his stuff. You crouch down next to the girl, so that you’re face to face, and give her a warm smile. “It was lovely meeting you. My name is Y/N, I hope Mike over there doesn’t give you a hard time tonight.” 

Mike flips you off, having heard you. “If he’s annoying,” you lean in close to her now, whispering in her ear. “You have my permission to pinch him.”

The girl giggles, finally relaxing a bit, and you warm with pride. She’ll be okay, she seems like a very resilient girl and you’ll oddly miss her. 

The two other boys are waiting for you upstairs. You all wish Mrs. Wheeler a good night and head out. Thankfully the rain has now stopped, so the bike ride home isn’t bad. You stop at Lucas’ turn to make sure he gets home safely before finally arriving at your place. As Dustin begins pedaling into your driveway, you don’t follow. 

“I’m going to go see Jonathan, he didn’t answer my calls earlier and I just…”

Dustin waves at you, not even bothering to turn around. “Yeah yeah, go see your boyfriend. If mom asks, you’re asleep.” 

“He’s not my boyfriend-”

“Are you seriously going to argue with me after I offered to cover for you?”

Your brother gives you a pointed look, and you know he’s right. “Touche.” 

Dustin goes to leave, but you quickly grab at his jacket. “Before I forget, swear to me that you’ll keep me updated if anything weird happens, okay?”

He nods at you, knowing better than to argue, and gives you a mock salute as he heads inside. 

The living room light is on when you arrive at the Byers home, despite the late hour, but you aren’t surprised. You knock on the door and wait. When no one comes, you knock again, a bit louder this time. After another few moments, the door swings open. 

Jonathan has a finger over his lips in a shushing manner, motioning to Joyce who is passed out on the couch. You nod, letting him know you understand. The two of you go to his room and when he closes the door, you finally get a good look at him. He looks worse than he did earlier, the bags under his eyes have somehow gotten darker. His hair is a mess, his eyes bloodshot. 

“You’re soaked.” Jonathan says. 

“Yeah,” he doesn’t want to talk about it yet, so you play along. “Got caught in the rain. Are some of my spare clothes still in your bottom drawer?”

He nods at you, going over and grabbing a t-shirt and pajama pants for you. You accept them gratefully and excuse yourself to the bathroom to change. Your bones are cold, the rain seemingly having penetrated the layers of your skin. In the mirror you see that your own eyes are bloodshot; you don’t look much better than Jonathan, really.

When you return Jonathan is sitting on his bed, so you join him. It’s silent between you, all you can hear is his breathing. You stare straight ahead, so does he, and you wait. You’ve only seen Jonathan like this a handful of times, where the stress and anxiety becomes too much for him. He shuts down, draws into himself, and all you can do is wait for him to return to you; he always does. 

“Mom got a call tonight.” Jonathan’s voice is hoarse, and he looks frail. You wonder if he ever did end up making the spaghetti you prepared for him.

“Who was it?”

He swallows heavily, taking a moment to respond. “She said it was Will.”

“Will?” You look at him now, searching for any signs on his face, his voice lacks emotion. By the way he stares blankly ahead, as if he’s not really present with you right now, you know that it hadn’t been Will on the other end. 

“She started freaking out, going ballistic,” his voice cracks a bit, so you take a chance and reach for his hand. He lets you take it, giving you a squeeze, before continuing. “She was screaming, begging whoever it was to give Will back.” 

Jonathan pauses again. You don’t say anything, because no words will help. He’s never been the type for comforting words, anyways. He takes a deep breath, closing his eyes. “It wasn’t him. Lightning struck and our phone got charred. It wasn’t Will.”

Now it’s your turn to squeeze Jonathan’s hand. He doesn’t deserve any of this. None of the Byers do. Out of the entire town, they’re the family who deserves the most that life can give. Will, too good. Jonathan, too selfless. Joyce, too loving. They’re the best damn people you know. 

“I tried calming her down, but she was hysterical. She’s only asleep right now because she worked herself up too much and passed out. I’m worried she-'' Jonathan shakes his head, as if ashamed by his own words. “I’m worried she’s going crazy, Y/N.”

He’s quiet again, but you can tell he’s about to break. His knee is now bouncing up and down and his breathing has become slightly ragged. Everything from today has been building up, it was only a matter of time before he snapped. You’re also worried about Joyce, a part of you skeptical to believe her, but the little girl you found tonight in the rain? Something was definitely weird about Will’s disappearance, but you’re hesitant to tell Jonathan just yet. For all you know, she could’ve simply been a girl who got lost and will be returned to her family tomorrow. 

You don’t want to worry Jonathan any more than you need to.

“I should’ve been there for him. I shouldn’t have taken that shift.” He gasps out, and like a dam the tears begin to fall. You’re quick to pull him into a hug and he crumbles into you. His body shakes with violent sobs and he clutches at you as if afraid you’ll leave.

“You can’t blame yourself.” You whisper, stroking a hand through his hair. He cries even harder, the force of it almost enough to knock you over, so you situate yourself so that you’re fully on the bed, laying against his pillows, with Jonathan crying into your chest beside you. 

“He’s g-gone.”

“We’ll find him, I promise.” Your own tears threaten to come out, but you force them down. You have to be here for him, he needs you. The only other time Jonathan has so openly cried was when Lonnie left years ago. He’s been holding everything in since then, all those years of looking after his family, taking care of his brother, getting harassed by assholes like Tommy Hagan. 

Neither of you say anything else, and you know that Jonathan needs to let it all out. You soothe him as best as you can, running a hand through his hair, stroking his back, reassuring him over and over again that none of this is his fault until your own voice becomes hoarse. You don’t know how long you stay like this, but sometime during the night Jonathan finally falls asleep, and you follow shortly after him. 

— 

Sunlight streams through Jonathan’s spare bed sheet that he’s pinned over his window, serving as a makeshift curtain, waking you up. You stretch, careful not to wake the boy beside you, and crawl out of the bed. You’re antsy, already knowing that today will be another long day. After grabbing some clothes from your designated drawer and getting dressed, you head into the kitchen and start making a quick breakfast. Just as you’re finishing up, Jonathan comes out of his room, dressed and ready for the day.

Neither of you say anything about the night prior, instead silently working around each other in the kitchen with years of practiced ease. He hands you the salt shaker right when you need it, you grab the pieces of toast that he popped into the toaster, the two of you never once get in each other’s way. You get deja vu, remembering all the times you’ve slept over with Dustin, you and Jonathan making the boys breakfast while they slept in. 

The only indication that last night really happened is a forehead kiss from Jonathan, his lips soft against your head. Out of the two of you, you’re definitely the touchy one, so it’s always a nice surprise when he initiates the touch, and his forehead kisses were a welcome rarity. 

When the plates have been made, Joyce gets up from the couch and stumbles over to the table. You quickly help her sit down, and for the first time since Will’s disappearance you’re able to really look at her. She looks like Jonathan, only worse. The bags under her eyes are darker, her hair is more matted, and you believe she’s still wearing the same shirt you saw her in the night that Will went missing. 

“All right, mom. Breakfast is ready.” Jonathan tries to place her plate on the table, but Joyce stops him, worried about the poster of Will. 

Jonathan gives you a look and you run over to the table, grabbing the poster so that he can set the plate down. 

Joyce gives you a tired smile, “Thank you, Y/N, but I can’t eat.”

“I just need you to eat, mom.” 

“Jonathan’s right, Mrs. Byers. You need to eat, we gotta keep your strength up.” You feel like you’re talking to a child, but in a way, you suppose you are. 

The woman lights a cigarette instead, and faintly you wonder how many she’s had within the last 48 hours; you’ll need to wash your clothes when you get home. She begins to ask Jonathan to go to Xerox to make as many copies of Will’s poster as possible. You sit down in front of her, silently eating, knowing there’s no place for you in this conversation. 

It’s not that the Byers are ashamed that they have little money, but you know it’s rude to listen in. They make do with what they have, and Jonathan has never felt embarrassed with you knowing it. 

“I don’t want you to go alone,” Joyce says, causing you to speak up. 

“I’ll go with him and help hang them up, it’s no problem.” 

Jonathan turns to you. “You have that chem test, remember? I’m not letting you miss that.” 

“Shit…” you bury your face into your hands. You completely forgot about that after finding the little girl last night and dealing with Jonathan. You’ve heard about how impossible the chem exams were, and science has never been your best subject. That was Dustin’s thing, your thing was more humanities. 

“You’re the smartest person I know, you’ll ace the exam,” Jonathan reassures you before turning to his mom. “And I’ll handle the posters, it’s okay.” 

Joyce has been lost in thought during your conversation with her son, only beginning to speak again when she’s asked how many copies will be efficient. Once she starts speaking again, it’s almost like she’s physically unable to stop. She begins to ramble, finally exposing the crumbling woman that you’ve only heard about, now understanding Jonathan’s fears for her. 

“Mom-”

“If we… ten cents-”

“Mom!” Jonathan raises his voice a bit, now grabbing at his mother’s hand. “You can’t get like this, okay?”

The look on Joyce’s face kills you. She looks so lost, ashamed of her behavior, and you cast your head down; this is a private matter. Joyce profusely apologizes to him and all Jonathan can do is gently reassure her that it’s okay. All of this is okay. 

Their tender moment is interrupted by knocking on the front door, revealing Hopper on the other side. His presence makes you uneasy, so you stay in the kitchen and begin to clean up with Jonathan while Joyce attacks him with questions. 

“A little bit of trust here, alright? We’ve been searching all night.” You hear the cop say. Your hand clenches the sponge, rubbing a bit harder at the plate you’re cleaning. If they’ve been searching all night, why are they here now?

“Went all the way to Cartersville.” Ever since Will disappeared, you’ve been building a wall of hope within you that he’ll be found safe and sound. However, with every passing day, with every new situation that occurs, you can feel a piece of the wall collapse. You can feel it now; the search party went all the way to Cartersville.

“And?” Joyce asks. 

“Nothing.” The cry that Joyce lets out causes you to drop the plate you’ve been cleaning, shattering on the floor. You curse, immediately bending down to pick up the pieces. Luckily it didn’t shatter into a million bits, but you still feel horrible for breaking one of their dishes. 

Jonathan bends down as well to help, and the commotion catches Hopper’s attention. He sees you scrambling to clean up the mess and sighs with annoyance. “Does she live here or something?” 

You and Jonathan look at each other, a slight smile on your faces, and only respond to Hopper with a synchronized shrug. You basically do live at the Byers’ at this point, you have been for years now. It was the same for Jonathan: if you weren’t at his house, he was at yours. 

Joyce wipes some of her tears away. “Y/N is family, she’s here to help.” 

Hopper ignores this, instead bringing up the phone call from the night before. Joyce leads him over to the phone, and you join them once you’ve collected the remaining pieces of broken glass. When you see the phone, you can’t help but gasp. Jonathan’s words from last night are accurate, the phone is charred. 

“Storm barbecued this pretty good.” Hopper says.

Joyce waves her arms out, disbelieving. “The storm? You’re saying that that’s not… weird?”

“No, it’s weird.” Hopper begins, but you cut him off. 

“It’s really weird.”

He glares at you. You mumble a quick sorry and back away a bit while Jonathan asks if the call can be traced. Hopper focuses back on the situation at hand, informing him that it isn’t possible and then questions if Joyce even heard Will in the first place. The question makes you cringe, knowing it’ll only make Joyce more agitated and hurt.

“Flo said you just heard some breathing.” 

It’s the way he phrases the question, the way he emphasizes the word “just”, that bothers you. This woman has just lost her kid, what kind of mother wouldn’t know her own child’s breathing?

“Even if it was ‘just’ some breathing, I’d know it was my brother. Will is her son, she’d know better than anyone.” You find yourself saying. The words weren’t meant to leave your mouth, but the appreciative look Joyce casts your way outweighs the fear from Hopper’s glare. 

“It was him. It was Will, and he was scared. Then something-”

“It was probably just a prank call,” Hopper tries to reason with her, causing you to roll your eyes at him. You respect the guy, you do, but could he at least attempt to listen to Joyce?

You excuse yourself before you say anything else, heading back into the kitchen to collect the two posters you and Jonathan made. While the others talk, you grab his things and pack his bag for him. You know he’ll probably skip school today to get the copies done in time, maybe keep an eye on his mom, so you make a mental note to inform him later that you’ll help with putting the fliers up the second you’re done with the exam. He needs someone there for him. 

When you’ve grabbed the last of Jonathan’s things, Lonnie’s name is mentioned. You freeze, standing right outside the hall from them, only a wall between you. If Lonnie is somehow involved in this, you’ll kill him yourself. He was always cruel to Will, even when you were around to witness it. You hate him more than anything in this damn world. 

“It’s been long enough, I’m having him checked out.” Hopper declares, storming out of the house. 

You count to three in your head, and the second you get to three, Jonathan is following after Hopper. You knew he would, hating his father the most out of everyone who has had the displeasure of meeting him. You follow behind him, heading outside to talk to the Chief. 

“Hey, Hopper. Let me go.” 

Hopper takes a drag from his cigarette, facing the two of you. “I’m sorry?”

“To Lonnie’s,” Jonathan says, looking at you for backup.

You do your best to try. “If Will’s there, that means he probably ran away. Cops will scare the poor boy, he’ll think he’s in trouble.”

“And he’ll hide. He’s good at hiding.” Jonathan finishes for you. 

Hopper stares at you both, inhaling more smoke from his cigarette and blowing it in your direction with a curious look in his eyes. “You two are sickening to be near, you know that?”

You and Jonathan share an annoyed look. A kid is missing, and you still have to clarify that you aren’t together? “It’s not like that,” Jonathan says.

“Sure, you know cops are good at detecting lies,” Hopper approaches him now, grabbing his shoulders. For a brief second you’re afraid he’ll hurt him. “And we’re also good at finding, okay? Stay here with your mom. She needs you.” 

Hopper punches at Jonathan’s shoulder before facing you. “And you,” you brace for whatever he’s about to say, knowing you probably aren’t his favorite person at the moment. He points at Jonathan, “He needs you.”

His words hang in the air several minutes after he’s gone. You glance at Jonathan, but he doesn’t meet your eye and instead he goes back inside. You sigh, following after him because it’s what you do. Hopper’s right, he needs you. 

Jonathan’s in the living room, speaking softly to his mom when you enter. You don’t disturb them but rather snatch Jonathan’s keys from the counter and wait for him by the door. Like Joyce said, Xerox opens in about thirty minutes and you have a chem exam to take. If you leave now, you’ll be able to make the copies with him and be back in time before school.

The ride to Xerox is tense, you know Jonathan is upset that he’s been sidelined by Hopper. You also know that he’s torn between wanting to help his mom and staying out of his house as much as possible. If it weren’t for your god damn chem test you’d offer to skip and hide out at your place, but you can’t. Jonathan wouldn’t let you risk your future for him (even though you would, in a heartbeat, a million times over). 

The man at Xerox gives Jonathan a look of pity, clearly recognizing Will’s picture on the poster. It’s your favorite photo of him, smiling with all his teeth and happy as can be. From what you’ve heard, the whole town has been conducting search parties for him. Jonathan ignores the look and asks for the 200 copies to be made. 

It’s just you and him in the store as you wait for the prints to be done. The guy said it’d be about a ten minute wait so you wander around the store. Jonathan clearly is in a no talking mood, so you occupy yourself with whatever you find. You wish you’d brought your backpack to Jonathan’s last night so you could at least study a bit while waiting, but you didn’t. It’d be a miracle if you pass this exam. 

Jonathan wanders around as well, so you give a quick look around and find the employee. He’s standing over the printer when you approach. “I’d like to pay for the copies, please.”

“You can pay after they’re done-”

“No, I can’t let him see,” you point over to Jonathan, who is now looking at some stationary. “Please, just let me pay now so he can yell at me later.” 

The guy gives you a shrug, clearly not getting paid enough to care. “Okay, it’ll be $20. Just leave the money on the counter over there, the prints should be done soon.” 

You nod and do as you’re told, leaving the $20 bill on the counter while Jonathan isn’t looking. He can kill you later, right now you want to make up for not being able to help with hanging them up. There’s literally hundreds to get through, he can’t do that all alone. 

When the posters are done and Jonathan collects them, you wish the worker a good day and then wrap your arms around him and use all your strength to drag your friend into the car. He doesn't fight back at first, too confused by your actions, and you’re almost out the door before he sees the man pocket the money and wave at you. The dots connect in his head and Jonathan begins to fight against you. 

“Y/N, let me pay-”

“Nope. Not happening!”

“We both know I’m stronger-”

“Debatable, honestly, seeing as how we’re almost to your car.”

“Let go!” He tugs harshly as his arm, which you’ve got a secure hold on, causing you to stumble a bit. 

You plant your feet more firmly against the ground and use all your weight to pull the boy forward. You’re a few feet away from the car, just one more solid pull should do the trick. “Stop fighting this, Byers. I’ve already paid-”

“Which you shouldn’t have!”

“Keep fighting and drop all the posters, I dare you.”

Jonathan looks down at the posters in his spare hand, realizing that you’re right. If he doesn’t give in soon, they’ll topple over. He lets out an agitated groan, throwing his head back, and then marches over to the car to unlock it and fling himself into the driver’s seat. “Just get in.” 

You do a small victory dance and hop in the car.

“I hate you.” 

“You love me.” 

He hesitates only for a moment. “God, I hate that I do.” 

You smile, buckling your seatbelt. Jonathan pulls out of the parking lot and begins the drive to school. He’s less tense this time, at least. The small little wrestling match between the two of you seemingly did some good, then. 

When you pull up to school, you once again apologize to Jonathan for being unable to help. He waves you off, understanding. 

“It’s okay, I promise. I can’t have you failing out of high school because of me.”

You roll your eyes. “One test won’t make me become a high school dropout, Jonathan.”

He ruffles your hair, which you slap him for. “You can join me after, okay? Good luck, bug.” 

“Fine, but I’m taking some posters with me so I can hang up on my way to my locker.” 

“Deal.”

You run to your locker, flinging it open and letting out a sigh of relief when you spot your chem cards. Honestly, you really should’ve prepared better for your little sleepover at the Byers. You glance at the watch on your wrist, noting that you have roughly fifteen minutes to memorize all the elements in the periodic table as well as some chemistry definitions. 

Just peachy. 

You tie your hair up so you can focus better and grab the note cards. If you review the cards as you walk to class, you can save at least three minutes of studying time. You tuck the few remaining posters of Will under your arm and begin to head to your class, getting absorbed in all the elements and words. As you’re skimming a card about protein being K, you run into Nancy and Barb, who also seem to have the same idea as you.

“Oh, hey Y/N.” Nancy greets you, Barb waving to you as well. 

They’re being nice, so you try to make conversation. “Studying for Kaminsky’s test?”

They nod at you and Nancy sighs, “Yeah, his exams are the worst.”

You laugh a bit, for once on the same page as her. “I know. I spent last night at Jonathan’s, I completely forgot about the test until this morning. I’m screwed.”

Barb raises her eyebrows at you while Nancy suddenly looks sad. “Oh, I’m sorry about Will. I know you and him are close.” 

“Yeah, it must be hard taking care of Jonathan right now.” Barb voices. 

You give them both an awkward smile. “Thanks, I guess? It’s just, there’s still hope, so…” 

The three of you stand there as your voice trails off. It’s painfully awkward. While you’ve known Nancy since you were 12, and at some point you even called her a close friend of yours, the second you entered high school she became distant. You never blamed her for it, people simply grow up and grow apart. Now you only ever interact with her if it concerns the boys. 

Trying to ease the awkwardness, you hold up a poster and offer it to them, but Steve snatches it from your grasp.

“Henderson, didn’t know you were also a little know-it-all. Why don’t you share your cheat sheet with the rest of us?” He says, casting a teasing look your way. It isn’t until he inspects the piece of paper that he finally notices that it’s a missing poster for a child, not a review sheet. “Oh, shit. I’m so sorry.”

You snatch the poster back from him. “You’re an idiot, Steve Harrington.”

His friends laugh, but Steve has a bit of heart to look guilty, so you count that as something. His shame doesn’t last long though and the goofy and sweet boy who made sure you were okay after almost hitting you with his car is gone. 

Steve plays off the situation as if it were nothing. “Let me make it up to you, Henderson. I know you’re probably stressed out of your mind dealing with boyfriend troubles because of Bill-”

“His name is Will,” you grit out, remembering now why you dislike Steve so much. Everything was about impressing his friends, and while you can sympathize with him, it doesn’t give him an excuse to be an asshole. 

“Right, Will. Anyways, I was just about to inform Nance over here that my dad has left town on a conference and my mom’s gone with him, ‘cause, ya know, she doesn’t trust him.” 

“Good call,” Tommy says, and you glare at him. 

Steve carries on. “So, are you guys in?”

“In for what?” Nancy asks. 

“No parents, a big house?” Carol says, as if Nancy is a giant idiot.

You feel bad for her being treated so poorly by her boyfriend’s friends, so you lean in and whisper, “A party, Nancy.” Then you look at Steve. “And no, I’ll pass.” 

Steve pouts. “Can’t leave loverboy alone for a couple hours?”

You scoff, shoving the poster against his chest, using more force than probably necessary, but the satisfying grunt he lets out pleases you. “If I didn’t know you I’d say you sound jealous. Unfortunately, I do know you, and that’s exactly why I’m not interested.”

“Meow,” says Carol as she and Tommy laugh. 

You ignore her and push past the group to get to class. You’ve wasted enough time, you have to study. Steve lets you, hurt by your words, but tries to play it off, instead focusing his attention on Jonathan up ahead hanging up some posters. You both see him at the same time and as you start to approach him, you hear Steve and his group mock him. 

“God, that’s depressing.” Steve says, and you’ve never wanted to hit a man more than you do right now. 

You glance at Nancy, trying to convey your disappointment in her. She’s a nice girl, she shouldn’t be with an idiot like Harrington. Who the hell makes fun of a guy with a missing brother? Nancy doesn’t meet your eye, which pleases you. She should feel guilty. 

As you near Jonathan, Nancy calls after you to wait up. You listen, mostly because you’re surprised she even followed, and together you walk up to him. “Hey, bee. I thought you’d be long gone by now.” 

Jonathan looks up at your voice, surprised when he sees Nancy next to you. He gives you a look that you conclude is a what is she doing here? look and you can only shrug as if to say I have no clue how I ended up in this situation. 

Nancy doesn’t see this exchange. “Hey,”

“Hey,” Jonathan responds, still confused. 

Nancy looks at you uncertainly, but you refuse to leave. Screw your exam, if she even considers voicing her boyfriend’s opinions to Jonathan then you’ll personally see that she fails alongside you. “I just… I wanted to say, you know… I’m sorry, about everything.” 

Oh, she’s being nice. You’re still unimpressed, but Jonathan motions to you to stop staring her down, so you reluctantly listen. 

“Everyone’s thinking about you.”

You all turn towards Steve and his group, who are clearly listening in, and you snort at her words. “Right, obviously.” 

“Y/N.” Jonathan warns. 

“Sorry.” 

“It sucks.” Nancy continues, and you have to give her some credit. You’re being a blatant bitch, but she’s still trying. You feel a bit bad now, which honestly makes you dislike her a bit more. Damn morals. “I’m sure he’ll be fine, he’s a smart kid.” 

The bell rings, ending Nancy’s little monologue. “I have to go, chemistry test. Y/N, want to walk together?” 

She really makes it impossible to be a bitch to her. “Sure, just give me a second.”

You lean close to Jonathan and lower your voice. “Good luck with your dad, bee.” 

“How did you know I’d go-”

“Because of course you would. Now go, give him hell for me, will ya?”

Jonathan nods, relieved you aren’t pushing the topic. You know that Lonnie is a sore topic for him, for the entire Byers family, really. You only knew Lonnie for a year or so before Joyce left him, but you’ll never forget his spiteful words and the bruises that Jonathan tried to hide from you. He needs to do this alone, father and son. 

You see Nancy watching, and just to spite her you kiss Jonathan’s cheek, relishing in the fact that she looks away, and you wish him luck once again before following her to class. 

The test isn’t as bad as you’d feared, and the rest of the day goes by with relative ease. You don’t see much of Steve and his group and you’re thankful for that. Nancy also keeps her distance, no longer attempting to be all buddy buddy with you. A part of you feels bad about that, because honestly the thought of someone thinking you hate them makes you feel physically ill, but as long as Nancy is with someone like Steve, there’s not much you can do about that. 

After school you stop by all of Jonathan’s classes and collect the work he’s missed over the last few days; he has enough to worry about, so you figured you could help do some assignments for him. It’s nothing unusual, truth to be told. There was a time you were out for two weeks straight due to the flu one year and Jonathan did every one of your assignments, so it’s about time you returned the favor. 

Once you have what you need, you hang up the remaining flyers in your bag and begin your journey to work. You’ve used up all of your sick days helping the Byers, and while Mrs. Waters has insisted on letting you have more time off, you figured the distraction would be good for you. Jonathan will want some space after confronting his dad, and as much as you hated Lonnie, something told you he had nothing to do with Will. 

Just when your shift is almost done, your coworker, this young kid named Alex who you’re honestly surprised can legally work, informs you that your mom is on the phone and wants to speak with you. You stack the remaining books in your hands and thank him, walking over to pick up the call.

“Hey, mom. Is everything okay?”

“Everything’s fine, sweetie! I was just calling to tell ya that Dusty is at the Wheeler’s tonight for dinner, so my plan for ribs won’t work without him. I was wondering if darling Johnny could feed you tonight? I know the two of you have that little sneaky food game.” 

Your posture, once slumped over and uninterested, now straightens out. Why the hell is Dustin having dinner at the Wheeler’s? They never do that. “Uh, sure mom that won’t be an issue.”

Your mom lets out a sigh of relief. “Bless that Jonathan! I’ve always liked him…”

Your mom may be the biggest Jonathan supporter you’ve ever met. “Yeah, he’s your favorite. I know,” you shift a bit to catch Alex’s attention, mouthing to him that you need to leave work early. “Hey, did Dustin by chance say how long he’ll be at the Wheeler’s? I can swing by and pick him up after my shift.” 

“Oh, I think he’s staying the night there. He mentioned something about Mike not finishing his part of their little science project?”

They’re calling the little girl a science project now? Boys are so typical. “Oh, I see. Well, I gotta get back to work, mom. I’ll be home late tonight.”

Your mom wishes you goodbye and warns you not to be out too late. You hum, already trying to figure out the quickest route to the Wheeler’s house. You can’t say you’re surprised that Mike didn’t follow the plan, but you also can’t say you were prepared for this either. 

Alex comes back with your boss and you quickly make up a lie about not feeling well. Mrs. Waters gives you a pitying look and tells you to go. You’re incredibly grateful for her, she’s like a grandmother to you and has always been so kind. 

You quickly bike to Mike’s house, going over a grand speech in your head for the boys. Logistically speaking, you’re not sure if they can even harbor the little girl in his basement. Would it be kidnapping? Could kids even kidnap other kids? You aren’t sure and you definitely aren’t willing to find out. 

You arrive at the house just as Nancy and Barb are pulling out of the driveway, presumably to Steve’s grand house party. They wave at you awkwardly and you don’t have it in you to wave back. You park your bike next to their doorstep and knock on the door. 

“Y/N? What are you doing here?” Mrs. Wheeler asks after opening the door. 

“Oh, I was just wondering if I could hang out with the boys tonight? Jonathan’s busy and I promised Dustin I’d help with their campaign.”

Mrs. Wheeler cocks her head at you. “But I thought there was a special assembly at the school for Will? Nancy and Barb just left for it.” 

You feel your blood boil a bit. There was no assembly for Will at your school, and it was really damn low of Nancy to use his disappearance as a cover story for her stupid party. She’s known Will since he was practically a baby. You have no idea how someone could be so unaffected by a missing child, let alone one who has been at your house every damn weekend for years now. 

“Oh, that!” You force yourself to remain calm; there isn’t time to snitch on Nancy, Mrs. Wheeler would only have more questions for you. “Yeah, I’m, uh, skipping it. Jonathan doesn’t want to go, so after he’s back from his errands I’m heading over to his place to, you know, comfort him?” 

The woman stares at you for a second, trying to determine if there are any lies to your words. You’ve never been the best liar, but being the oldest Henderson child has unfortunately prepared you for being quick on your feet when needed. 

“Well, come on then. They boys just went downstairs, and if you can please remind them to bring the plate of food back up here I’d really appreciate it.”

You thank Mrs. Wheeler and let yourself in. Her words have all but solidified your suspicions: Mike kept the girl. 

When you descend the basement steps, it’s almost comical how the kids scramble to hide the girl like little cockroaches. They run around and Dustin screams something about covering her before the poor girl is being manhandled into a sheet as Mike screams at Lucas and Dustin to calm down. 

“Guys! It’s just me! Jesus!” You shout, shoving past Mike to rush over to the girl and free her from the sheets. She looks more frightened than usual, but at least she’s alive. 

“God, why am I always the one you push?”

You shush Mike, smoothing back the girl’s hair and offering her a reassuring smile. “Remember me, sweetheart?”

The girl nods and softly says, “Y/N.”

“Very good. I’m going to scream at my brother real quick, so why don’t you cover your ears for me so you don’t get too frightened?” 

“Wait, what-”

The minute her ears are covered, you turn to Dustin and begin screaming. “Are you brain dead and not understand the words ‘tell me if anything weird happens’ or do you simply lack the appropriate empathy needed for a concerned sister?”

Dustin ducks his head in shame. “Y/N, look-”

“No! I’m all for helping you guys with your adventures and whatever, but Will went missing and then she appears and Mike,” you turn to him and he hides behind a frightened Lucas. “You said you’d stick to your plan. Now tell me, did you?”

Mike shakes his head, his eyes wide. Dustin looks no better as he cowers behind the others. Lucas simply shrugs, knowing that this would happen. You never, ever, yell at the boys; the few times you have in the past, all hell had broken loose. 

“Y/N-”

“Zip it, Henderson. I’m so pissed off at you right now and if you want to make it to thirteen I suggest you keep quiet.” 

“Yes, ma’am.”

“Good. Now, why don’t you guys catch me up on what you’ve so sweetly kept hidden from me.” It’s worded as a question, but the boys know better than to deny you. 

You sit on the ground so that you’re next to the girl and then motion for the three boys in front of you to start speaking. They look at Mike, giving him a nudge, and he hesitantly steps forward to begin speaking. “Her name is El.”

The girl, El, looks up at you and smiles. You return the smile and knock your shoulder against hers in a playful manner. “Nice to meet you, can I ask what El is short for?”

“Eleven,” she says, and you want to question the name further but the look on Mike’s face stops you. Now is not the time, you guess. 

“El, she’s… different.” Mike continues, looking around nervously. He’s acting as if someone could break in any second and snipe you guys, and a part of you doesn’t doubt it can happen. “She has these powers, like, mind control powers.”

You snort, unable to stop yourself. El looks at you, looking unoffended, seemingly expecting this reaction. However, Mike groans at you. “Y/N, this is serious. She-she knows about Will.”

At this, your smile fades and you feel an overwhelming sense of hope take over you. You find your arms wrapping around El before you can control yourself and you give her a tight hug. She stiffens in your arms and you immediately pull away. “I’m sorry, I just… sorry.”

She laughs a bit, softly saying that it’s okay. 

“Do you really know Will? Where he is?” You ask, almost too scared to say the words out loud. If she’s telling the truth… you shake your head in an attempt to dispel any false hope. You don’t know this girl, she could be lying. 

Before El can say anything else, Mike speaks for her. “She does, but there’s bad men out there who want to hurt her. I think they’re after Will, too.” 

You freeze. “Bad men?”

“Yes, this is why we didn’t want to tell you!”

“I wanted to tell her,” Lucas says, which causes Mike to glare at him.

You wave your arms at the two boys, breaking up their fight. “Mike, what do you mean by bad men? Honey,” you look at El, “did someone hurt you? Are you in danger? Should I call the police?”

“No!” All three boys shout at once. 

You look at them, at the genuine fear in their eyes, and sigh, “Okay, if you can give me a good reason not to call the cops, I won’t.”

“Did you not hear the part about El having powers?” Dustin asks. 

“Gee, Dustin. You’re right! It’s like her having powers is totally believable and reassuring to the situation at hand!”

“I can show you,” El speaks up. 

You all face her now. “You can?” 

She nods at you, getting up and grabbing your backpack that you threw on the ground when you walked in. She rustles through it while you and the boys look at one another. After a few seconds, El grabs one of your comic books and places it on the table. She looks at you and tilts her head, indicating for you to sit down next to her; you do as you’re told.

El straightens out your comic and then closes her eyes, going completely still. The air around you shifts and you can practically feel the static electricity encasing you; the hair on your arms stand up. The pages of the comic begin to flick up, fluttering as if someone is thumbing through them in rapid succession. You watch as the Spidey panels flash before your eyes, the pages flying faster and faster until it becomes almost frightening to be near. Then, once it gets to its last page, the comic flies up into the air and hovers for a few seconds, right in front of your face. 

“Holy shit,” you breathe out, your eyes wide. 

Just as quickly as it began, the comic drops back onto the table. You look up at El and see that her nose is now bleeding, which rips you back to reality. The chair scrapes against the ground as you get up to help her, dabbing at the blood with a tissue that had been laying on the table. 

“Do you believe us now?” Mike asks, a smug look on his face. 

You gently wipe away the remaining blood from El’s face, looking her in the eye and directing your words to her. “I’m listening, sweetheart. What can you do to help us find Will?” 

El smiles, pleased to have earned your trust, and you get the feeling that this little girl is the most powerful thing in all of Hawkins, maybe even the world. At her request, Mike places his DnD board on the table and arranges the pieces for El to use. She sits down and closes her eyes once more.

Lucas gives you a doubtful look. “What’s the weirdo doing?”

You flick his head, not enjoying the name calling. Honestly, you thought you raised these boys better than that. 

El seems to accomplish whatever she was doing and picks up the wizard piece, murmuring, “Will.” 

You feel your heart stop. Will always insisted on being the wizard whenever they played the game. He was Will the Wise, forever and always. El couldn’t have simply guessed that, and you know it’s her-

“Superpowers,” Dustin finishes your thought for you. The two of you exchange a glance and you notice the slight glee in his eyes. Under different circumstances, you’d also find this all pretty cool. 

Mike sits next to El and begins to ask some questions about where she last saw Will. She gives him a look that you can’t quite decipher before swiping her arm across the table and spilling the pieces onto the floor. She then flips the board over, having it now face upside down, and places Will’s piece back down. 

You knit your brows together, trying to follow along. El’s movements are methodical and carefully planned, being unable to find the right words due to her poor speech, and you try to piece together the information you’ve been given. 

“I don’t understand,” Mike says, being extra gentle with El. You’ve never seen him so soft spoken before and you’re grateful at least one of the boys doesn’t view her as some monster. Which reminds you that you need to have a conversation with Dustin about respecting women, but for now you’ll hold off.

“Hiding.” says El. 

He’s good at hiding, Jonathan’s words echo in your head. 

“Will is hiding?” 

El nods, now looking more nervous. You can tell that Mike is getting closer to information that she doesn’t want him near, which finally causes you to ask the question that’s been heavily on your mind. “From the bad men?”

Now El gives a slight shake of the head, and Mike presses on. “Then from who?”

Without saying anything, El places a second piece onto the board right in front of Will’s. It’s a piece you’re unfamiliar with, with two snake-like heads that loom over the small wizard piece. Whatever it is, you know it isn’t good judging the way Mike, Dustin, and Lucas look at each other in fear.

You turn to Dustin and whisper, “What’s that piece?”

Your brother puts his hands behind his head and sighs deeply, a new resigned look on his face. He looks as if he’s just aged thirty years, which you find a bit dramatic. “It’s the Demogorgon.”

“The Demo-what?” The name sounds familiar, but you can’t remember anything about it.

Mike looks at you and for once his voice holds no annoyance when he says, “There’s a lot we still have to catch you up on.”

– 

Your head is spinning as you bike to Jonathan’s with all the new information you’ve just received. Demogorgons, magical vortexes, kids with damn superpowers. It’s all a lot for you to take in, and while you fully believe that El is something entirely different from a normal little girl, how can you be sure that it’s connected to Will? While his disappearance still confuses you, it’s illogical to jump to supernatural conclusions. 

Dustin had begged you to let him spend the night at Mikes in order to keep talking to El, and you only agreed because you figured you’d be at Jonathan’s again tonight anyways. He’s been MIA all day and you’re worried as usual, but you made him and Mike swear to you that they’d stay put in the house. At least this way they’re in one place, so if they screw around they’ll be easier to find. 

When you arrive at the Byers home you notice that Jonathan’s car isn’t in the driveway, which only confuses you further. Where the hell is he? You gave him all day to deal with Lonnie and cool off, trusting that he wouldn’t do anything stupid for twelve hours, and yet… 

You fear he’s done something stupid. 

You don’t have time to think too much about Jonathan’s absence because a frantic Joyce runs out the door screaming. She runs straight past you and into her car, and the house begins to light up like a christmas tree. You can hear The Clash’s Should I Stay or Should I Go, a song that Will once had on repeat for three weeks straight, and you can feel the same static electricity in the air that you felt when El used her powers in front of you. 

Joyce suddenly gets out of the car and spots you, pointing towards her house. “You see that too?”

You swallow. “Yeah,”

She nods, as if your confirmation is all she needs to determine her sanity, and then marches inside. You stand in the yard, motionless. You’re terrified, and after learning about El tonight, you don’t have it in you to discover any other supernatural beings in Hawkins at the moment. Sighing, you follow after the woman because Jonathan isn’t home and someone needs to talk her down from whatever panic attack the flashing lights have inevitably caused. 

“Mrs. Byers-” 

“Y/N, you can’t tell me there isn’t something,” Joyce waves her hands in front of her face, almost grasping at the air, “weird about all of this. That was Will’s song, the lights were flashing in Will’s room, something came out of Will’s wall-”

“Something came out of his wall?”

“Yes! I’m not… I promise I’m not crazy, okay? You saw it, please tell me you saw it.”

You bite your lip, now thinking about El. You swore to Mike you wouldn’t tell anyone about her, and honestly you’re not sure that you should tell Joyce about her right now. You’re still unsure if El is being honest with you, and you can’t just give the woman false hope for her son. It’d kill you if you were wrong about El. But seeing the lights, hearing the music, the thing in the wall… There’s something that she’s not telling you. 

“Mrs. Byers… I’m not quite sure what I saw, but we just had a bad storm and it could be faulty wiring.” 

Joyce slumps her shoulders, frustrated that you aren’t conspiring with her. You just… you can’t. Not yet. Not before you figure out what the hell El is doing in Hawkins. You refuse to worsen Joyce’s already chronic anxiety and paranoia; Jonathan would never forgive you if you fed into her delusions, but it kills you to lie to her. 

“Look, I do think that something is weird about this entire situation, “ Joyce’s face lights up, but you’re quick to add, “however, there’s no proof. You, I mean-Mrs. Byers, you’ve seen things in the past. You’re stressed, and anxious, and all the other synonyms.” 

The woman lets a few tears drop from her eyes, now embarrassed. “Maybe you’re right. I-I’m sorry, honey. I just-”

You grab her hand. “I know,”

Her smile is brittle, a ghost of the once beautiful smile she’d give you, and your heart breaks for her. 

After your conversation, Joyce excuses herself to her room. She looks even more exhausted than before, so you leave her alone and hole yourself up in Jonthan’s room. 

You glance at your watch and note the late hour; you’re starting to worry now. Jonathan didn’t mention anything besides Lonnie and the posters, so you don’t know what else he could be doing so late. He wouldn’t go searching for Will without you. 

You wake up to Jonathan returning an hour or so later, apparently having fallen asleep while waiting for him. 

“Y/N?” His voice is gruff and surprised. 

You groan and rub your eyes. “Turn the light off, bee.”

He doesn’t. “What are you doing here?”

The tone of his voice wakes you up a bit, making you sit up and look at him more clearly. His shoulders are tense, his eyes are hiding something, and his overall demeanor is hard to read. “I had something to tell you, but is everything okay?”

“You couldn't have waited until tomorrow? Y/N, this is my house, just… just get out.”

“I’m sorry?” You’re confused by his behavior, now starting to become a bit defensive and hurt by his dismissal. 

“You can’t just let yourself in whenever you please.” Jonathan puts his camera on his desk, still refusing to meet your eyes.

“Jonathan, we literally have always let ourselves into each other’s houses whenever we please.” 

He rolls his eyes at you and rips off his jacket, throwing it at you. “Get out!”

You catch the jacket before it hits you in the face. “What the hell, Jonathan!” 

“Listen, I get that you think you’re a part of the family, but you’re not. You’ve been here for days now, it’s getting old.” 

His words cut through you and leave vicious wounds against your skin. He doesn’t mean that, he can’t mean that. You and him were family. He’s never, ever insinuated anything less. He wouldn’t dare. Your Jonathan would never act like this to you, and the only time he’s ever been this cruel to you was when he accidentally dropped Lonnie’s last beer in the fridge and was too embarrassed and ashamed to ask for help; he’d shown up with bruises later that night.

Then it hits you. He did something, something that makes him feel guilty; he keeps glancing at his camera. You soften your voice, “Bee, what did you do?”

He whips around, now yelling. “Nothing! Just get the hell out of my house! It’s getting pathetic!” 

You swallow back the angry tears that build in your throat. Fine. Whatever. Let him be a raging bitch after everything you’ve done for him these last few days. 

“Fine, I will.” Grabbing your backpack you snatch the assignments you were supposed to give Jonathan and slam them against his chest. “Here’s all your fucking assignments, by the way.” 

He seems to come back to himself, blinking away the anger and shame. “Bug…”

“You don’t get to call me that.” And with that, you don’t spare Jonathan another glance. 

– 

When you get home, the house is eerily quiet. Dustin is at Mike’s and your mom leaves you a note saying that she’s spending the night at your aunt’s. Great. Looks like it’s just you and Mews tonight then. 

After everything that’s happened tonight, you never found time to eat dinner, and your stomach is loudly growling. You drop your stuff in your room and then reheat some leftovers, feeling like a pathetic child. You know that Jonathan didn’t mean what he said, but the words had come too easily to him to have just been a way to dodge his guilt. There had been some truth to them. Maybe you were pathetic for always fretting over him.

Dinner is quiet tonight. 

You wait for the phone to ring, for Jonathan to call you and apologize, but the call never comes. 

You’ve never felt so alone before.

-

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[f1bordeaux]

An Verstappen one with “Did you ever really care about me?” and “Please stay.” Thank you

If You Cared (Part 1) | mv1

It's been years since you've indulged in a vacation. What better time is there than summer? Your family, the beach house in Italy-it seems perfect. But, for things to be just like good old times, your family needs to invite his. So of course you are having mixed feelings as the boy who broke your heart re-enters your life like nothing happened. Warnings: None Pairing: Max Verstappen x Reader Word count: 2.1k Poetry style | Story style A/n: Hello! This story came to me as soon as I saw this request. I got so many ideas and I'm actually super excited to keep writing this. There will be more parts to follow, so keep a look out. Nonetheless, I hope you enjoy! Part One|Part Two|Part Three|Part Four|Part Five

You always longed for the familiarity of summer.

It was by far your favorite season. Something about the warmth, the life, the atmosphere, the memories-something about it all brought you comfort. You were head over heels in love with summer. Or perhaps it was just more exciting this year knowing that you would go on a real vacation for the first time in a long while. “Let’s visit the beach house this year,” your mom had suggested. “Sure there is probably some dust in the corners, but it’s nothing we can't sweep off.”

When thinking of summer memories, the beach house in Elba, Italy, was the primary setting for all of them. From the time you were born until the time you moved out, your family would spend a handful of weeks there, drinking up the sun and inviting friends to visit. You learnt to swim in the pool behind the summer house. You learnt to cook in the kitchen of the summer house. You had your first kiss in the living room of the summer house. Right, that. Something you preferred not to think or talk about.

“Mom!” you wrapped her in a hug the second you could. After moving away from home to pursue work, you rarely saw her in person. You rarely had time to cook yourself dinner let alone come home. It would be nice to get away for a month-just you, your mom, your dad, your brother and sister and the Italian shores of Elba.

“How was your flight, my baby?” She asked, pulling your backpack from off your shoulders.

“Which one? The one from New York to Florence or the one from Florence to Elba?” As a child you always made a fuss about how secluded Elba was. It’s a small, mountainous island off the west coast. A small airport, no larger than the biggest grocery store in town, was all they had to offer. They didn’t take commercial flights from New York. Nope, you had to get on a small, ten person airplane with five other people and fly over that way. It was nostalgic, truly.

Your mom rolled her eyes. “Still dramatic as ever.”

You shrugged, a smile stamped on your face. “What can I say?”

“Let's go, your dad is at home making dinner. It should be ready when we arrive.”

Your heart felt so full, so satisfied. You felt like a child again, like a little girl viewing the world from innocent eyes. Your mom was carrying your backpack, your dad was making dinner. You wondered if they’d offer to tuck you in at night. This is what you needed the most, and you didn’t even realize it until you were in the passenger seat of your mom’s rental car, watching the coast of the island roll by in the dimming sun. New York was busy. It was loud and dirty. Elba was quiet. It was beautiful and clean.

This summer, you told yourself. I’m not going to have a single worry, not a single care in the world.

“The Verstappen’s are coming by next week.”

You almost choked on your food. “What did he just say?” Dinner on the patio was already off to a ravishing start.

You don't notice it-too busy dabbing the corner of your mouth with a napkin-but your mother swatted at your brother who held a smirk on his lips. He knew it would bother you and he also knew that mom hadn’t told you yet. He loved being the bearer of bad news. He loved pestering his older sister.

“You know, Max’s family?” He pushed on. “The boy who left you for cars-”

“Luca.” Your mom cut him off. “Enough.”

Silence hung over the table like it was a light fixture. Your dad and sister said nothing and you knew it was because those two were in favor of the Verstappen’s coming to stay. Hell, your dad was probably the one to extend the invitation. You knew your sister would back him up because she loved Victoria-the younger sibling of the two Verstappen children. Your brother obviously didn’t care. He idolized Max and his racing. It seemed like your mother was the only one on your side.

“Was nobody going to tell me until Max knocked on our front door one day?” You asked, cutting at the food on your plate.

“Max probably won't even be able to make it,” your mother tries to reassure you. “The only ones who have confirmed it are Sophie and Victoria. Ooh-Victoria is bringing the babies so that should be fun-”

“Are you just trying to calm me down, mom?” Again, the silence made itself known. You spoke first, shaking your head with an upside down smile. “You know what? I don’t care. Max or not, I’m here to have a good summer. No childhood crush or-”

“Childhood boyfriend who broke your heart.” Your brother corrected you. You kicked him from under the table, exerting an ouch from him.

“No childhood drama is going to interfere.” You finished.

“She's gone crazy.” Your sister whispered to your dad. You kicked her too.

“I’m going to have a good summer. Nobody will ruin that for me.”

And in the beginning, you did have a good summer. You spent your first full day in Elba catching up on jet lag. When you finally decided to roll out of bed at two pm, you went to the beach with your sister. The two of you had a chance to catch up, sitting on the sand with a small array of fruits to eat while you spoke. The weather was perfect, the ocean was calming, and you were reminded of how much you loved your younger sister.

“What did you do for the big twenty-two?” You asked, referencing her birthday that had preceded about three weeks prior.

She shook her hand, the grapes in her palm shifting. She picked out a bruised one, adding it to a small pile of other undesirable fruits. “Went out with some friends. I had an exam due that day though, so most of it was spent in my room working on that.”

College. Something you tried your hardest to avoid. All was futile, though. After only a few weeks in New York you realized you’d need it. “Sounds fun. Were you mad you had to leave all your friends for the summer?”

“No,” She popped a grape in her mouth. “I was excited to come back to the beach house.”

“Me too.”

“Can I start a conversation without you getting mad at me, y/n?”

You sighed. “If you start by saying that, then no.”

“How are you going to react if Max really does show up on Monday?”

It was your turn to search through the handful of strawberries you had. One strawberry had a large hole. The rest looked fine, you thought. Max. Right, that's where the conversation was. Max Verstappen. Your first crush, your first kiss, your first-boyfriend? Was it ever that? Really, you didn’t know what it was and what it wasn’t. He was Max, and you were y/n. That was all the facts you knew surrounding the two of you.

“I’ll be nice. I have no reason not to be.” You finally responded.

Your sister peeled her sunglasses off her face. She looked at you amusingly through her brow. “No reason? Really?”

A shrug lifted your shoulders. “What? Max and I were never dating.”

“Sixteen-year-old you would say otherwise.”

“Sixteen year old me was delusional.” You looked at the ocean in front of you. You were just a delusional child, right? Max was your first kiss. Max was your biggest crush. Max did break your heart. It’s pretty damn hard to break someone's heart when you’re not together, no? “I don’t care about Max anymore. If he comes, he comes. If he doesn’t? Then so be it. I really don't care, Mia.”

“Alright,” She said dismissively. “I guess we’ll find out.”

The two of you wouldn’t find out for another five days. During your time-waiting for the possible arrival of Max and his mom and sister-you explored the city, you occupied the beaches, you read some books, you went out on the boat with your brother and dad. Life was calm. There were no obligations you had to fill, no tasks at hand, no work to be done. It was you, the Italian sun, the ocean and the breeze. You seriously considered moving there. Mom would let you have the beach house, right? How could she say no to the oldest?

All was good. All was calm.

“Max is here, y/n!” Luca swung open the patio door, yelling at you with a smirk. You were lying on a lounge chair next to your sister-the both of you only wearing swimsuits as you tried to tan. “He’s a fine specimen.”

You picked up your hat from the ground and threw it at your teenage brother. “Fuck off, Luca.”

“I’m serious! Max, Victoria and Sophie are here.”

You looked over at your sister. “Go inspect.” You instructed her.

She groaned, standing up from her chair and wandering inside, not before slapping Luca on the back of the head, however. The two of them shut the door, a waft of cold air swiping across your body before disappearing. There was soft music playing from a speaker near the pool. If a car pulled up, you wouldn’t have been able to hear it. Maybe they were here, but was Max seriously with them? Did you want him here? Would it actually be easier without him here or did you want some fun this summer? Did drama entertain you? Maybe you just wanted something nice to look at while you were here.

The back door slid open. You were lying face down, the sun warming your back. You didn’t bother looking up, assuming it was Mia coming to deliver the news to you. It would be better if she didn’t see your face while telling you. Maybe you would be disappointed at the answer-whatever it may be. “Well? Is he here?” You asked, voice muffled by the lounge chair.

“Is this your hat?”

You looked up so quickly that you pulled a muscle in your neck. “Fuck.” You whispered to yourself, rubbing your fingers over the pain. Did you curse to yourself because Max was standing right infront of you, your ball cap balancing off his index finger, or because of the pain? Both, you decided. It was for both reasons.

“I’ll leave it,” He set it on the table next to you. “Here.”

“Thanks.” You readjusted yourself, sitting up on the edge of the chair. He definitely got a much better view of you than he was hoping for. You were older now, almost by ten years. Sixteen year old you and twenty five year old you looked a lot different. He figured that out pretty quick.

“Good to see you, y/n.” He smiled before turning on his heel to go back inside. His back was broad, his shoulders looked stiff. He had some stubble, but it suited him. He looked-good? No. Stop thinking like that. He probably had a girlfriend or something. He was a rich, famous, Formula One driver. No way he was single walking around looking like that.

“Right.” Nobody was around to hear you say it. So, nobody was around to hear you follow it up with, “What the fuck.”

Hesitantly, you picked up your ball cap, slipping your ponytail through the back. You walked inside, scanning the room before making any more steps forward. Mia and Victoria were in the living room. Sure enough, Victoria had brought her two children and husband. Mia was emitting plenty of ‘aww’s’ and ‘that is so cute’s’. Max was bringing luggage in through the front door. Great, they're planning on staying. Your brother shot you a smirk from where he sat at the kitchen bar. Told ya’ so.

“Max, how’d you manage time off from F1?” Your mother asked.

“It’s summer break,” He said matter-of-factly. “I don’t race again until late August.”

“So you’ll be here for the three weeks you mother and sister will be?”

Please say no, please say no, please say- “I plan to, yes.”

The sliding door snaps behind you as you let go of it. Everyone turns to look at your bikini clad figure. Victoria exchanges a concerning glance with your sister. Victoria’s husband looks at her, confused as to why there is such a thick tension in the air.

“Y/n, go shower and get dressed, we’re all going to dinner in a bit.” Your mother said, her lips pressing into a thin smile.

“Right.” You said, weaving past all the bodies. “I’ll go do that.”

Oh what a summer this was playing out to be.

[huramuna]

banshee's lament - chapter 7.

aemond targaryen x stark ofc minor jacaerys velaryon x stark ofc masterlist prev | next

wordcount: 2.5k

@huramuna-fics - follow & turn on notifications for just my fic postings! no taglists right now, sorry.

a/n: a short chapter, but very important! the next 3 after this will be very action packed! and then it is the end of act 1!

content: smut, angst, fluff, disabled ofc, aemond being delulu & obsessive, major canon divergence, ofc has a service direwolf, i'm taking canon rules and putting them in a blender and taking a shot, arranged marriage, graphic depictions of violence, my terrible, terrible combat writing, descriptions of injuries, allusions to suicide, talk of chronic pain and illness

story playlist

Shera had never rushed before so much in her life. She needed out. Out of Viserys’ room, out of the tunnels, out, out, out. As she pushed a stone backing, her knees skidded across the cobbled ground, skin ripping from them violently. Oh, how adept she’d become at injuring herself. She haphazardly wiped a few tears away.

The crisp night air whipped against her face before the smell changed– her other senses other than sight had become so keen since her loss of sight in her eye, so she was especially sensitive to even the most minute change in scents. She smelled the distinct aroma of fire– ashes to ashes, wafting along the breeze, mingling with a familiar smell of sandalwood and white cedar musk. 

A pair of polished black boots, now a bit dull in their pallor from soot, stood in front of her. 

“Lost, little banshee?” Aemond cooed. She could practically see the grin on his face, once again not of joy but something akin to self-assuredness and beastly callousness. 

“I told you…” she croaked, putting her now bloodied fingertips up to her throat, the pain reverberating through every word. “Don’t… call me that, nūmāzma zaldrīzes.” Mean dragon. She didn’t look up, or lift herself in any sort of way. Shera was all too aware she was not wearing her veil, nor her choker– and Aemond’s comments at the dinner (that he had still not apologized for, the cad) were festering in her mind, stinging and infecting like a plague. They hadn’t spoken since her almost ill-fated swan dive. He probably thought she was still suicidal. 

It was all too quick for her to register, her vision was still spinning, but he had picked her up, throwing her over his shoulder like a sack of potatoes, or perhaps a bale of hay. He didn’t say anything further as he began to walk down the hall, deeper into the Keep. 

Shera’s face went beet red as she sniffled, kicking her legs against him. “Put me down,” she growled, her voice raising more than it should, her tone becoming skewed and cracking. She resorted to trying to bite him then, her teeth fastening down on the leather jerkin he was wearing. It was so thick, that her attempt to snap her jaws upon his skin was hardly even registered to him.

“No.” he responded flatly, an arm fastened around her waist that was slung over his shoulder, his other hand coming up to swat her bottom. “Stop trying to bite me.”

“This is demeaning.” she hissed, now resulting in hitting her forehead on his shoulder blade, hoping to hide the fact that her face was burning scarlet at the fact that he had swatted her bum like an insolent child, no less carrying her like one. 

“Yes– well, mayhaps you shouldn’t be sneaking around at night, much less without your mutt guiding you.”

She grumbled a noise of discontentment, burying her face into his shoulder blade as a means to hide herself further, lest anyone see the absolutely precarious position that Aemond– and herself– had put her in.

They didn’t speak much as he took her back to her chambers. Moongeist was awake in an instant when he opened the door, growling and snarling.

“... s’okay,” Shera mustered as Aemond planted her on the ground next to the wolf, who immediately calmed at his owner’s presence– not without a wary look towards the prince, though. She put her hand on his head, her fingertips shaking. 

“You’re bloody, Shera.”

“Fell.”

“You can’t go to bed bloody. You’ll stain the sheets.”

“I can.”

“You can– but the maids would most certainly report it to my mother, or worse, to Rhaenyra. It’s not exactly a good look for a supposed maiden bride-to-be having bloodied sheets?”

Shera sighed, putting her head in her hands as she sat at her boudoir. “Get on with it.”

“Tell your mutt to not bite me, then.” Aemond returned in an equally annoyed tone as he wet a cloth at the washing basin, swathing it over her skinned knee, while keeping his eye trained on Moongeist– who in turn, was staring back at him.

“Have half a mind to… you were… quite mean.”

“Mean? I helped you back to your room.”

“At the dinner, when I came back. And you have been quiet since the… Kingswood.” 

“Ah.”

“... ‘ah’? That’s it?”

“Tell me truthfully; are you being coerced into this? If you are, I will cut that Strong bastard from stem to stern like a roasted pig. I see what it's doing to you. You’re frayed at the ends.”

He’s noticed? She glanced at him waywardly, fists squeezing in her lap. “I’m not some helpless little creature with no power… I still have some voice.”

“Hardly.”

“Jacaerys has been… cordial and proper,” she said. When he isn’t fucking my brother, that is.  “He even has written me letters when not visiting. What a novel idea that is, hm?” 

“You’re still upset about that?”

Shera peeked through the hair fallen in front of her face, scowling. “Yes. I am.”

He reached his hand up to pry one of hers from her face. “I’ll need to clean these, too. Even so, I do believe it requires two people to have a conversation through letters, does it not? I don’t recall receiving anything addressed to me from you over the years. I heard Helaena got quite a few.” 

Shera pressed her marred side of her face into her shoulder as she let Aemond clean the blood from her fingertips. She didn’t want him to see– she couldn’t. She didn’t quite understand the confidence that Aemond had, his scar proudly on display above and below his eyepatch. The tips of her ears went red at his insinuation. “... I suppose we both could’ve sent letters, then. I just…” her fingertips twitched as he pressed the cloth underneath her nails, scraping the dried blood from under them. “I wasn’t sure you would want to…” her hands strayed from his grasp, to which he grunted at, taking them back. “Cregan wrote the response for the first one. It… I’m sure you know it was a lie now. He is such an idiot– I am the opposite of fine. I don’t think I’ve been fine in nearly a decade.” her bottom lip wobbled slightly as she rambled on, saying all the things she’d always wanted to say to someone– no, not someone– to him. 

“... it was callous of me,” he finally offered, “To say… what I did at the dinner. It was mostly to rile Jacaerys.” he finally responded, putting the cloth to the side and examining her to make sure he hadn’t missed anything. “I’m sorry.” Aemond spoke his apology quietly, but looked directly at her face, then. His face was… surprisingly open. Not guarded.

“... ‘twas not far from the truth.”

“May I see?” 

Shera shook her head vehemently. “You can’t.”

“Please.”

She made a noise of disagreement, pressing her face further to her shoulder. She didn’t, however, account for the visibility of the scar on her throat, jagged and raised against the soft flesh of her neck. She felt one of Aemond’s fingers trace it, across slowly, then upward. His hand went to her chin and he turned her face towards him. And she let him. She didn’t have much energy to stop him, anyhow. 

His touch was soft, which surprised her greatly– she thought him unhewn and rough in all places– but this was something reminiscent of how he used to touch her as children. He was always gentle with her before. Her face was turned to him completely now, unveiled, unhidden– she braced herself for the look of humor or pity on his face, her heart stopped beating for a moment, her breaths caught in her chest.

Brushing an errant hair aside, he traced the scar over her eye. It wasn’t an entirely clean cut, like he had guessed, jutting out into two diverging lines, like branches of a tree going downward. His violet eye, the hue hardly visible from how large his pupil was, was trained on her blind one. The milky blue, her own pupil long gone. The edges of his lips curled into something akin to wonder. There wasn’t a look of pity and it didn’t seem like he was about to make another poor jest about her face– he just looked, as if to study it, to commit it to memory.

“Blue?” he murmured. “How curious.”

The way he said it had Shera perking her brow– it sounded like an epiphany to him, his voice taking a lighter note than she’d heard. There was no trace of callousness that had been exuding from him previously. He was calm.

“Yes, it's blue,” she muttered in response, his taut (but not uncomfortable) grip on her chin keeping her facing him. She desperately wanted to hide away, hide, hide. She’d never felt so exposed in her life, so naked– and she was fully clothed. It felt like her soul was on display to him, cracking from her ribcage. 

“Let me formally apologize,” he cleared his throat. “‘Tis not mangled at all, nor a mess. I now wonder, even more than before, why you persist with the veil.” Aemond let go of her chin, but not before giving it a little tug in an almost playful manner. Aemond? Playful?

“I like them– it's… to hide.” 

“Hide? To make oneself obscured, to conceal and fade into the background,” he pondered it for a moment. “You make yourself a spectacle with that thing, Shera. You are doing the opposite of hiding.”

Shera puffed out her chest, arms crossed over defensively. “A spectacle?”

“You chastised me for calling you a banshee, when you dress the part,” he leaned back in his chair, hands laced together over his stomach. He was relaxing. 

She puffed, rolling her eyes. She mimicked his body position, leaning back with her hands on her stomach. It felt… odd to be looking at him without any inhibition. It felt almost normal. Normal– normal. When was the last time she felt normal?

“I want to clarify,” she cleared her throat, fingertips paused on her throat from speaking up too fast, too loudly. “I was not trying to kill myself. It… I… I’m not suicidal.”

Aemond’s expression didn’t change, he merely focused his gaze even more onto her. He didn’t say anything.

“The… disassociation is new, like Hela told you,” Shera’s hands wrought over one another slowly. “But it isn’t… unusual, given my… conditions.”

“Conditions?” he asked finally. His face still didn’t give away any emotion.

“... no one else knows except for Cregan and the maesters at Winterfell. Jace probably knows from Cregan… telling him all the things that are wrong with me, to look out for when we’re married.” she took a breath before continuing. “The maesters don’t exactly know what to call it— but it is… I lose control of my body and fall to the ground, convulsing— it's terribly painful and then everything goes black. We have referred to it as my… fainting spells, but it surely feels like more than fainting. It’s… quite violent.” 

Aemond blinked. Hard. He took a beat to absorb the information before speaking. His position shifted as he leaned forward. “When was the last time you had one of these… spells?” 

“… not since Winterfell.” 

“I don’t remember this being an issue when you were younger— is it… relatively new?” he asked then. His lips were pursed together in a tight line, in tandem with his furrowed brow. 

“Since Driftmark.” 

The corner of his mouth twitched slightly at the mention. “Another thing for us to bear, isn’t it?” he gave a low, bitter chuckle. “The Gods weren’t satisfied in our mutilation alone and had to… bestow us with lasting gifts, hm?” 

Shera stayed silent, sitting up to where their knees were touching. Her eyes were wide as she took him in. His melancholic smile and the dullness of his eye as he looked off somewhere in the distance.

“The pain is bad most days. And on its worst days, it’s unbearable. The… the nerve damage, the maesters said. I’ll live with it forever— a constant thrum and reminder of it. There’s a few medicines that help temporarily but…” his voice trailed off, his gaze returning to her. “I’m sorry.” 

“You have nothing to apologize for, Aemond.” 

“I do and I do not— I should’ve protected you. I should’ve killed them.” he gave an ugly sneer, lip curled. 

Shera’s heart felt like it was in her throat. She wanted to cry, to scream for his pain, for her pain. She couldn’t speak, her voice coming out in unintelligible, choked sobs. 

He looked sad, too. The depth of his despair laid bare in front of her for only a moment. The mask slipped back on, his proverbial walls back up. 

But she knew. 

They were so alike— even now.

–

Aemond had always prided himself on his resilience, on his ability to mask his emotions into stone. 

Why did he become so unraveled with Shera? He confided in her so easily, as if it was second nature. 

His boots stomped down the corridor of Maegor’s Holdfast without much care. He was coming apart at the seams, like a thread pulled from an old doublet, letting the structure of the garment fall away. 

All it took was one thread. 

He found himself at his desk, candles lit. The piece of fabric she’d gifted to him, with her silly note, was still there. He clutched it in his hand, bringing it to his face and taking a breath. 

Lavender, rosemary, chamomile. The scent of her on it still lingered, if not a bit faded. 

He would smell it in the halls, coming back from training. He knew she’d been watching him in secret for the past moon. Whenever it wafted near him, he had half a mind to follow her, to confront her, to hold her—

Fuck. He was fucked. He was fucked the moment she came to King’s Landing— the very first time. 

His hand glided through his hair as he snapped off the leather cord holding it back from his face. Strands of it fell over his vision as he tossed his eyepatch to the settee behind him. 

Taking out the sapphire was a tedious task. And painful. 

But damn the Gods, if he wasn’t vain. Even if he was the only one who saw it most of the time. He clenched his free fist, white knuckled as he prised the gem from his socket, setting it aside. 

He picked up the note that had been attached to her fabric favor, looking over it again. Her handwriting was terrible— but so inevitably her. Pulling a key from under a stack of innocuous papers, he unlocked the third drawer that fell down the side of the oak desk. 

In it, were letters. Penned by him. Unsent, unseen. 

All for her. Everything he’d wanted to say to her for years, everything he’d ever written with her in mind. 

Everything he never could confess— not even now.

There were at least a hundred letters in the drawer, dated from those ten years apart. 

He placed the favor note on the top and locked it back in place. The favor fabric, however, stayed in his hand. 

After some careful cutting and somewhat haphazard stitching— Aemond had sewed a small segment of the fabric to the inside of his eyepatch. 

He stowed the remainder of it in his nightstand.

He was so fucked.

[jamneuromain]

Wild Child Chapter. 1

Series Summary:

As the granddaughter of the sole Duke in your country, you know that you were going to marry some douche prince, because it is the only way to solidify the grasp the future king has on the Upper House. On the flight home, you come up with a brilliant plan to defy your upcoming matrimony.

Bringing a random man to your grandfather's place, and say you have a boyfriend already.

"Is there anything else I should know about? Before I meet your family?" Ari cocks his head to the side, watching you adjusting your cerulean Valentino dress when you wave your hand dismissively.

"Just say we're in love and help me get out of marrying this D-bag."

Ari Levinson x You

#i didn't know he is my fiance-douchebag-prince

#when i did, it was too late

“Ladies and gentlemen, welcome on board Flight CM80072 from London to Ancetol. This is your Captain speaking. My name is…”

The broadcast started as you stuffed your ears with your earbuds. The screeching static along with the horrible noise whenever the captain chewed the mic in his lips and popped every consonant as if he couldn’t speak otherwise.

You should have brought your earplugs.

Or fly your private plane.

Correction: Fly your family’s private plane.

But you guessed they were still mad at you, which was probably the reason why the bodyguard they sent simply handed you an envelope with an airplane ticket inside.

“Would you like to see the menu?” The stewardess asked you with a kind smile, handing you the thick book of menu, “We have foie gras, smoked salmon, or veal rolls for the main course. Of course, you can also choose the vegan meal. All the ingredients are listed below the dishes.”

“I’ll have the veal roll.” You took a sip of the lemon-flavored soda she gave you earlier, “First course - the shrimp, and dessert would be the … ice cream, with extra berry toppings?”

“Excellent choice, Miss Y/L/N.” The stewardess nodded, taking notes of your demands, the impeccable smile still on her lips, “Any drinks?”

The bodyguard to your back coughed. Very loudly. Very spontaneously. As if he would be dead if someone didn’t hand him a glass of water or ship him off to the chemotherapy very soon.

“Cappu…” you changed your mind as soon as you were “reminded” that you were not allowed to drink alcohol, "Screw it, apple cider please.”

“Miss -” The bodyguard in the full black suit tried to warn you, “His Lordship won’t be pleased.”

“His Lordship,” you sniggered, “desperate measure to demonstrate his control over me, huh? Plus, I don’t think I recall our King has issued any announcement on the succession of the title. So, Lord him all you like. Pathetic man. I’m not respecting someone who participated perhaps even less than a minute in creating me.” You muttered the last few words under your breath.

You could practically imagine what “His Lordship” would do when he hears the report from the bodyguard, word for word.

He might throw some crystal ornaments to the wall, shouting at the top of his lungs, as if that would reinforce his authority.

A man to your right chuckled. Like you, he was just approached by the stewardess regarding his meal choice, now sipping scotch on the rocks. You glared at him. He looks like a man in his 30s. Terribly well dressed. The suit fitted his tailoring right up to his cufflinks. Golden cufflinks, you might add. White shirt without a tie. Long hair with a full-grown beard.

“Sorry, can’t help but overhear.” He raised his hands and folded them on his knees, “I’m Guy. Guy Thomas.”

“Mr. Thomas,” you shared your given name with him, but left out your family name, offering to shake his hand.

“Guy.” He stressed, “You’re from Ancetol?”

You were born in the outskirts of Ancetol, the capital of your home country, Ballenia, one of the few countries that are still ruled by a monarch. Your mother was relieved that you were blessed with a quick birth. But your father wanted nothing more than a boy. A boy that could take the family title and carry the family honor. Probably why he didn’t make an appearance until the second day of your birth. Reluctantly. You might add.

You spent the next couple of years of your life in a small town in Ballenia, growing up with your mother who thought innocently that your father would miraculously love you and accept you both as family.

You stopped believing in “a happy marriage” a long time ago. No. You stopped believing in “marriage”. And the fairy tales. And the lovely stories that told you one day, Prince Charming would come to rescue you riding his big white horse and ask you to be his wife, and some happily ever after bullshit.

No.

The reality was, fairly close to the story of your family, where the “Cinderella”, your mother, was abandoned by the prince, who is your father, and he had a couple of mistresses when Cinderella was only allowed to be presented during formal circumstances.

Ah yes, after all, a divorce would destroy the reputation of His Lordship. Making them look bad if they kick a civilian woman out of the door. The press would go frenzy about it, spreading the news that the “Cinderella” had been divorced by the cold-hearted heir of the Duke.

Luckily, or, unlucky for your father, it was your grandfather who carried the Duke title. Your grandfather who was equally displeased with you, a useless girl. Your grandfather, who passed away quite recently. Three days ago.

Hence, your urgent return. And some pretenses for the reputation of your family.

So, sunglasses it is then. During the funeral. With a white handkerchief. No one will see your dry eyes incapable of producing tears, not for that old bastard anyway. You thought to yourself, eyeing the huge bulk of a man next to you.

Did you forget to mention that the late Duke did the same trick as your father? Marrying a civilian woman and keeping a dozen mistresses in the same mansion they live in?

“You sound local.” You commented on the way he speaks English, “Are you from Ancetol as well?”

“Aww, what gave it away?” The man switched to fluent Ballenian, the language you haven’t heard of for years, and asked you, sounding sincere, “Is it the ‘r’? I always mess up the ‘r’.”

“Your name doesn’t sound local though,” you buckled your seatbelt as the stewardess stepped close to inform you the plane was ready to depart, lowering your eyes to fumble with the metal link, “Guy Thomas. Very American.”

Ari, no, Guy, pushed a little smile on his lips.

Of course, this name sounded American. You would freak out if he told you his true name.

“My mother is American and my father is Ballenian.” Which was 75% true because his mother was half American. The other half Danish.

He went by “Guy Thomas” when he was having fun among people and didn’t want to spoil everything by announcing he was Ari. The fucking prince of Ballenia.

Total mood killer.

“Are you here for business or pleasure?” You joked, “Or visiting your family?”

“Mostly business.” Ari fabricated a lie out of nowhere, “I work as a manager of my family business.” Technically that’s not a lie. He even slipped in some details for credibility.

Family business, the kingdom.

Manager, well sort of, since his dad owned the country.

“And I’m back in Ballenia to secure a deal.”

You lacked interest in business and all that, waving your hand as if dismissal, but allowing the stewardess to come and take away the food and drink in front of you, “hard to do business nowadays, especially when the Minister of Foreign Trade is a jackass.”

“You speak as if you know him.”

“Please, he’s been in that position for fifteen years.” You rolled your eyes.

The minister tried to get you to marry his hideous, lazy, pig-like son who knows nothing more than eating, smoking, and partying. Promising your father to “sweeten the deal” by favoring the company your mother owned but your father controlled.

Your father really would have said yes if it weren’t for the deal years ago, promising you to another man already. A man more powerful than the minister or his son will ever be.

“Of course, he is a jackass. If not now, then somewhere in his 15 years of gripping the foreign trade.” But you were not telling a total stranger about you being promised around like a Ming-Dynasty Vase. “Just look at the new announcement he made with the U.S. What deal did he make? None! Claiming that ‘further efforts are needed’. Further my ass. The Ambassador from the States could barely keep the smile on his face for Christ’s sake.”

Ari took a mental note to look into this “jackass” Minister.

“What about you?” He asked, “Visiting your family? Plan on staying here long?”

You pursed your lips on hearing the question.

Visit your family? How about dead family?

You were here to attend your grandfather, the late Duke’s funeral.

Staying long?

You wouldn’t curse yourself like that.

The longer you stay, the more probable your father and your mother will talk you into marriage.

You loved your mother, but for Christ’s sake, “I hope not.”

Ari didn’t respond to your reply. He simply hummed, making you confused about whether he agreed with you or not.

The plane did not wait for a minute more before departing into the air. A short while of gravity shift brought you 30,000 feet up in the sky. You pulled down the blind as the annoying sunlight burned your eyes, getting up for a bit more leg room and heading to the bathroom.

In the blink of an eye, a violent turbulence threw you off your own feet.

The soft ring of the safety belt sign turned the orange light on, while you slowly came to your senses that you weren’t embraced by the ground, but rather a firm body wrapping around you. One arm on your back, holding your upper body, another hung – rather awkwardly – in the air. You were sitting on his thick thighs sideways. Your ankle hurting. You were pretty much sure you twisted it with your damn heels.

“Miss Y/L/N!” The bodyguard hurried towards you, completely disregarding the tremble of the plane, rushing to your side. “Miss, I need you to try and stand up.” He held out an arm, leaning towards you to help you up.

Seeing him trying to assess how hurt your ankle was, you were very touched that he was concerned and reacted quickly. Maybe a small pay rise for him if you get back to your home?

Your bodyguard sighs, shaking his head with a disapproving look, “If this is your way of trying to escape the deal, his lordship won’t be pleased.”

Oh yes, the deal. The deal that simply packed you like a FedEx item and threw you to the palace door. The deal that promised you to the prince, right after you were born. The deal that you were told by your parents to honor for as long as you can remember. The deal lurking in the corner and bit you in the ass whenever you had done something to displease your father, reminding you over and over again that the only reason that you were alive was the fucking deal.

Apparently, your father had left out a most important piece of detail when instructing this bodyguard to “guard” you from running away.

You hardly ever do as you’re told.

“I think my ankle is broken.” You said dryly, pointing at your feet, not even trying to pretend that you can convince no one with your bland facial expression, “Can’t get up.”

Ari bit his lips so that he wouldn’t laugh.

You were sure as hell an interesting soul.

If he had any doubt or concerns regarding marrying you, a complete stranger in a matter of weeks, he now had none.

He thought you were the kind of girl who was a black sheep in the family, a wild child, with tattoos on your eyeballs or something. But you were nothing like his imagination.

Wild? Sure.

Black sheep? Compared to your father, the to-be-Duke, who seemed more like what the term was describing.

Ari raised his eyebrows, “Although I wouldn’t oppose you sitting on my thighs,” he nodded towards the stewardess who lurked behind the thin veil of curtain, “I’m afraid she would be unable to do her job properly if this continues.”

You clenched your jaw. Ignoring the extended hand from your bodyguard, you stood up, feeling instantly a sharp pain stinging your bones.

Bathroom was long forgotten, not that you have a chance to reach there on your own, you slumped down the seat and made sure you pushed the seat back until you could almost lie down like on a gurney. Lifting the hurting ankle on your other ankle, you closed your eyes.

Fuck his lordship.

The pain throbbing on your ankle. Your body dipped in both the coolness of the AC and the heat from your spine and the back of your head.

The few hours on the plane became more and more unbearable.

The veal roll didn’t lift your spirit in any way when it was brought to you.

The meat itself was fine. Only that it tasted like wax to you. You let out a long exhale as you outstretched your leg to ease the stress. Finishing the meal barely, you pushed the plate away, not even looking at the cider that you were thrilled to piss your father off with, and asked the stewardess for some paper. Empty sheets for writing.

She was clearly dumb-founded by your request, but hurried to carry your idea out.

You thanked her when she brought you some sheets, torn from some notepad as there were jigsaw razor edges on the side of the paper.

If the pain and the fact that every second you were closer to Ballenia was bothering you, you only needed something more bothering to take your mind off.

Ari narrowed his eyes when he cast a glimpse that you pulled out a pen from your bag from the overhead compartment and started writing on the empty sheets of paper.

Call him nosey but he wanted to know what you were writing.

Too inconvenient for him, your letters scribbled too small for his eyes to see. Occasional glimpses couldn’t help him read your writing. Nor that the content on your phone was clear enough for him to read either.

He did know that should be a text of some kind.

What text though? That was the real question.

…not some kind of text that could curse the royal family of the Ballenia, right?

Ari was almost amused by his own thoughts, before a shiver ran down his body and stuck an idea in his mind that this was totally and perfectly possible.

…you wouldn’t, would you?

Hard to tell. You weren’t exactly obeying the orders to marry him. Delaying it a couple of times in the past three years. And now, hearing that you had just called a minister “asshole” … or was it “butt ass” (?), anyway, something about ass, behind his back, and that you could mull a long face over your own bodyguard? Ari couldn’t figure out your temper and your actions all of a sudden.

The adjectives, that your father and his father used when they were talking about you, didn’t even come close to you.

“Kind” “Warm” “Considerate” “Perfect Princess”.

“Exceptional”. Maybe this was the right word.

Definitely different and strong-minded.

He could almost imagine the changes you would bring to his family and the kingdom.

He could discuss politics with you. You had your own thoughts and ideas, which was a good sign. Talk about foreign policies. Speaking of, he should really have someone fetch your dissertation from your university to understand where lies your interests. He’d allow gossip on the table too, if that’s what you like.

Ari hated gossip.

And there he was, imagining the future with you, before you were willing to marry him.

“If you want the book, I can lend it to you.” Your voice snapped him out of his fantasies. You had stopped scribing and rubbing your knuckles with your other hand. Pursing your lips together, you had, obviously, found out that he had his eyes glued to you.

“I’m sorry?”

“The History and Nature of International Relations.” You shrugged, twirling your wrist and your shoulder for writing too long, “I gotta warn you though, it’s pretty boring.”

Ari knew the correct answer to his question, but he asked either way, “You are studying it?”

“No. Yes. Hmpf,” You pouted at your change of words, “I did. I was. I was studying International Relations.” Something blipped in your mind, “Did you know this book?”

Ari smiled, “Took a course in International Relations years ago. I’m surprised they are still using it as an example of a textbook – where did you study?”

“NYU.” That’s a plain fat lie. You had a friend studying at NYU, but you were not planning on giving all your personal information away to a complete stranger, “You?”

Ari cocked his eyebrows. You were studying in Cambridge. He read that from your file.

“University of Ancetol.” Because studying there demonstrated the confidence of the Royal family in their country’s educational system. From there, the lies weaved themselves from his lips, “Got an undergrad degree and started to take over the family business. I visited New York last year,” along with his father, the King, but they travelled as quietly as they could, initiating a state visit without disturbing the press, “I miss school, now that I’m thinking of it.” Ari sighed deeply, “Wanted to get a grad degree but work’s too busy.”

“A manager in your family business?” You teased him light-heartedly, “Surely you can spare the time and study for a grad degree.”

Ari chose to evade this question. Reaching for his suit pocket, he fished out a business card with his name (Guy Thomas) and phone number on it, handing it to you, “Grad school doesn’t exactly tolerate me flying all over the world for … my family business.” He pushed his soft brown hair behind his ears, his eyes sparkling with a hint of joy that he had successfully fooled you, “Jewelry, my specialty. Diamonds, pearls, gemstones … call me if you need anything.”

“Oh, and she got her Master’s degree two months ago.” Ari casually dropped this to his parents in the middle of having dinner, he almost felt proud of his future wife, “Majoring in Political Science and International Relations. With a merit… no, distinction. The top 10% of her class.”

“We want a princess, not a college professor.” His father looked rather disappointed, “We were promised a princess.”

Ari didn’t understand.

If it were to be a marriage without love, he’d rather his spouse would be clever than bimbos who need help spelling “distinction”. Clever would mean he has a handful to deal with, yes, but what’s the fun in talking with someone who only cares about mani-pedi and the latest fashion magazines when he would be running the country?

Why wouldn’t they want someone smart as his wife?

“Your father is right, Ari,” his mother, Queen Olivia, reminded him with a softer tone, “we don’t need someone academically outstanding. We only want her to care for your home, you, and your future children.” She then turned to Ari’s father, King Victor, with blame framing her tone, “Told you should’ve just kept her with us when she was born. I knew Y/L/Ns were incompetent in raising our son’s future wife.”

Ari nearly spat out his food, “HOUSEWIFE?” Earning the “Shhh” from the Queen, he ignored the palace rules and the rules of being a prince altogether, “You want a HOUSEWIFE as the future queen?”

“For the moment.” Olivia waved her hand as if all this was not important, “Only temporal. After you get acquainted with the Upper House, you could divorce her and we’ll find you a proper wife.”

Taglist: @irishhappiness @patzammit

Find the Wild Child Masterlist here 👈

Questions? Comments? Requests? 👉Send them to my inbox 👂

[iliveforyouilongforyouvesuvia]

*mini hc request time >:3 *

POV: the M6 + my MC had to go to the palace library to get a book for whatever reason - except my MC is the biggest of all bookworms & so upon crossing the threshold of the library she spontaneously vanished into thin air & is now lost to the books.

The M6's mission - should they choose to accept it - is to find MC & successfully extract her from the library

The Arcana Mini-HCs: M6 when MC gets lost in the library

~ @themushroomgoesyeet when I tell you that my family still has to broadcast lost child announcements to find me, a 23 year old, when we visit the bookstore XD - brainrot ~

Julian: doesn't notice at first because he's browsing the medical articles. has a mini heart attack when he realizes it's been almost an hour since he's heard from you and starts running through the shelves whisper-screaming your name. Promises to buy the book you're absorbed in if it means he can keep you where he can see you

Asra: step 1: notice how adorably absorbed you are in the books and cancel the rest of the day's plans. step 2: hunt down the corner they used to nap half the day away in. step 3: send Faust to keep you company in case you need him. step 4: snooze. step 5: wake up at closing time and listen to you talk about it the whole way home

Nadia: probably came in on a mission to find something and agreed to split up to help the search. slowly becomes increasingly alarmed when, after finding the archive she needed, she can no longer find you. both relieved and slightly exasperated when Chandra spots you from the rafters and suggests taking the book to finish later

Muriel: doesn't really mind the prospect of spending several hours sitting contemplatively in a quiet, soothing spot. however, as quiet as the Palace is, it is too fancy to feel soothing and he really thinks you'd be able to focus better in a mossy spot in the woods. ends up carrying the max amount you're allowed to check out back to the hut

Portia: if you think you can get lost in the books easily you haven't met her yet. this place is practically her second home, she's already got a hidden nook with comfy cushions to spend the afternoon in and a failproof method for sneaking in the forbidden snacks. just don't ask her if she's read your pick yet because she might spoil it

Lucio: he might have lost you, but you never lost him, because if there is one thing this man does not know how to be it is quiet. the first five minutes or so aren't awful, but then he's bored, and he's hungry, and he wants to go outside, and there's nobody to talk to, how long is this going to take, when are you - oh you're done? great!

[lostinforestbound]

It's finally here! I'm sorry it took me so long, with work and art projects I got completely swamped. But now it's here! I'm aware I'm posting this incredibly late so no one will see this until morning probably hahaha! Requested tag: @snoozeeebee

Rolan/M!Tiefling Tav

Third Time's the Charm - Ch.1

Rolan intends on doing great things when he finally gets to Baldur's Gate, but an utter idiot named Tav is distracting him. Unfortunately, against his better judgement, he's starting to fall for him.

Word Count: 5.9k (AO3)

Relevant Tags: Graphic Depictions of Violence, Rolan's POV, Makeout, No smut (yet) but it gets frisky, Slowburn

(If there's any tags I missed, please let me know!) NSFW, MDNI

They've been at this grove, stewing and waiting for too long. That Archdruid (Halsin was his name, he believes) might have been welcoming, but the other druids have not. Now he up and disappeared after he decided to follow a group of weak, loud, wannabe adventurers who were only out for themselves. When they cowered back inside the grove with less than half their group, he knew that this place was doomed. What's worse than all of that mess is that Lia is stubborn about leaving, and now they're in an argument again. They've been having them a lot in recent months, ever since the fall and rise of Elturel.

"-and all you care about is your stupid apprenticeship!" Lia shouts at him, his mind finally tuning back into the conversation- no, not a conversation, a damn shouting match.

Her words make him bristle and grind his teeth. How dare she? How dare she ever think this was all only for the apprenticeship? It's an insult to injury, knowing no matter what he does, trying to take care of them results in him being called selfish. What is selfish about wanting a better life for the three of them? They only have each other, their mother long gone. She's gone, and now he carries the sole responsibility of taking care of them.

She's gone.

"Take that back. Right now." He hisses, getting in her face as they glare each other down.

Cal immediately inserts himself in between the two of them, palms out in front of them both. "Can we all just take a moment? Please?"

Rolan idly notices the sweat gathering on Cal's temple as he pushes Lia back slightly by her shoulder, creating more space between all of them. He does the same to Rolan, but stays put in the middle to form a weak barrier- wait, who is that tiefling that approached? No, it doesn't matter.

"Hells, we can't just leave. They're kin!" Lia begs, almost pleading with him.

"I will not gamble our lives- our futures, on people who are as good as dead," He says somewhat calmly, though his tail still flicks behind him in irritation. "We must leave for Baldur's Gate at once."

Lia looks ready to bare her teeth at him, angry with him. She's always angry with him. "What's the point of blades and spells if we don't bloody use them?! We should stay! These people aren't fighters, we can help!"

"Or yell louder, that's fine too," Cal says with a familiar bitterness in his tone; gods, he hates that tone on Cal. He's been hearing it more often, these days.

"Have you forgotten Elturel?" A voice breaks through, and he finally acknowledges the presence beside them.

It's another tiefling, a much larger one at that. He's not part of the refugees, as he hasn't even seen him around until now. Did he just arrive here?

This one isn't that much taller than he is, only by a few inches; but hells, his mass absolutely dwarfs his own. A fighter most likely, or even worse, a barbarian. It doesn't matter which one he may be, he looks like an idiot that isn't worth his precious time.

"We should stand by our people. You know no one else will." He says lowly, giving a knowing look of both annoyance and sadness.

He loathes that look. He’s never wanted to blast someone more than in this moment. How dare he look at him as if he was some child throwing a tantrum?

"This isn't Elturel, and I'm not responsible for every damn tiefling in the world!" He exclaims, almost furious.

Lia pokes him harshly in the chest with her pointer finger, and he has to suppress a wince. "Just be responsible for yourself, then! We have to stay; it's the right thing to do."

He hates that fucking tiefling even more now. Not only has he butted into his family affairs, but now he turned his sister- Lia, even more against him. For once, why can't things go his way? Why do they not listen to him?

When did they stop listening to him?

"Zurgan. Fine! We'll stay. If we survive, it'll make for a good story, I suppose." He airs, rubbing a finger to his temple as he feels a headache form there.

For the first time in a long time, Lia gives him a genuine smile, putting a hand on his arm and squeezing. "Thank you, Rolan.” She says sincerely.

Cal now takes the calm moment to usher the two further into the grove, seeming to want to get away from the entranceway as soon as possible; for once, Rolan lets him. He doesn't pay any mind to the strange looks they get by going further into the grove with the other refugees, and he certainly doesn't pay any mind to the oaf of a tiefling that they left standing there by himself.

He decides he hates that man, and he pisses him off to no end.

"How long until Rolan shows off his Thunderwave?" Cal asks as they settle down near an old human woman's tent, who seems to be organizing some herbs in her storage crate. Something is off about her, but Rolan can’t put his finger on it. Either way, it doesn’t matter.

Lia snickers at that moment, crossing her arms over her chest. "Depends, how many people are dumb enough to ask?"

"Hah! True."

Rolan rolls his eyes, trying to dust off the dirt on his robes. He hates the smell of this damned grove, it stinks. Is he truly supposed to arrive to Lorroakan with his clothes smelling like this? He'll have to burn them, no question.

"Don't be grumpy, Rolan. We'll get to the city soon." Cal chirps, bumping his shoulder with his own.

"I am not grumpy."

"The scowl on your face would frighten a troll."

Despite the foul move he's in, he smiles at his little brother. "Heh. You're an idiot."

-----

It's been days, and that tiefling is still here.

He's heard about his many exploits; saving one of the children the druids held hostage, saving another orphan child from a group of relentless harpies, getting their money back from that tiefling brat with the eyepatch, and slaughtering Kagha. Emphasis on slaughtering.

When he came out of that grove where the ritual had stopped, he saw the amount of blood that was covering the large man. None of it was his own, he realized. The man barely had a scratch on him and seemed proud when exiting.

He caught himself staring at him many times, watching how the muscles stretched across his skin, seeing all the little imperfections. Scars, beauty spots, all the like. He internally curses himself and looks away when he feels his face growing hot.

Paying back attention to his siblings, he notices how Cal stares at the blacksmith across the way, rubbing his hands absentmindedly as he thinks of something.

"You shouldn't waste precious time on distractions. We need to head to Baldur's gate after this goblin fiasco is over." He remarks, getting up and brushing off dirt.

"Rolan." Lia warns, but he ignores her and walks away with a roll of his eyes. They need supplies, so he will go get them if they are too lazy to do so.

And, of course, the oaf is already buying them off of one of the druids. Damn it all!

"Need something?" He asks, inspecting him as if Rolan was much shorter than him.

He scoffs, even more irritated than he was originally, "I was in need of potions, but it seems you got them all already."

"What did you need?"

"It doesn't matter, you beat me to it!” He instinctively snaps, briefly pinching the bridge of his nose between his index finger and thumb. “Bloody health potions are so short of stock these days-"

Wordlessly, the man puts three large health potions into his arms, which, for once, renders Rolan speechless. He doesn’t even remember the original tangent he was about to go one. Something about price inflation, probably.

Staring down at the red potions in his arms, he snaps back into reality when he speaks again. "You three need it more than I do. I, at least, have a healer."

He sneers at him, gripping the potions tight. "So what, you look down on us?”

"Not at all."

"We are not charity cases,”He almost growls, baring his teeth. “What is your game here?"

"…Can I tell you a secret?"

Why is this his life? How did everything turn out this way? Why is he even entertaining this fool??

After a bit of contemplating his life choices, he finally responds. "What?"

The tiefling suddenly leans in to put his mouth near his ear, and gods he's so close. Tav was his name, wasn't it? He heard it in passing by one of his group mates. Balsam, rogue's morsel, and acorn truffle are what he smells on him, a strong scent that is surprisingly pleasant- gods, what is he thinking?! Feeling his face starting to heat up, he tries to take a step back, but Tav stills him with a hand on the back of his neck. It makes his breath catch in his throat.

Finally, Tav whispers to him, "I'm just being nice."

Tav pulls away, leaving Rolan completely dumbfounded as he continues. "I'm not trying to look down on you or be a pest, I just think you need the potions more than I do. Cause gods forbid these fucking druids try and help out people who need it." He spits with a roll of his eyes, staring directly at the Druid that was still besides them through this entire ordeal. He looks uncomfortable.

"Well, that is shockingly intelligent of you." He huffs, hoping the jab aggravated him. "Although, aren't you fighting a swarm of Goblins out there?"

"I am, but bold of you to assume they hit hard enough to hurt me." Before he could come up with another insult for his remark, Tav interjected. "Anyways, I have to return to my camp as it is getting late. Good luck to you and your siblings. Cal and Lia, right?"

He didn't have the chance to respond before the idiot sauntered off, back outside the grove. Great, now he's indebted to the bastard. Slowly, he stalks back into the grove, tying the potions to his belt as he does so.

-----

Some panic swept across the grove when people realized the goblin army planned to raid it for all it was worth. He's heard so many horror stories of slaughtered tieflings, their enemies sawing off their horns to keep as trophies or as foghorns.

If they think they could do the same to his family, they are sorely mistaken.

As others run and hide in Zevlor's war room, others stay to help fight, including himself. But, once again, the three of them can't stop arguing about their positions; he can tell Cal is getting pissed off, but so is he.

"I'm telling you to stay back. My Thunderwave will make short of any goblin that dares to come close. If you two are in the way, I'll knock you both over!"

"And I'm telling you to just get behind us! Spellcasters can't take a punch or a blade!" Lia shouts.

"Can we not argue over this? Please? How about we all line up together?"

"No." They both state and Cal immediately shuts up.

"Wow, you three must love each other very much." A familiar voice says sarcastically.

He grits his teeth and turns towards Tav. "Oh, piss off you oafish-"

"Wait! Wait, maybe Tav can help us out. Figure out positioning and whatnot?" Cal suggests quickly.

"Great idea Cal! Let's ask the professional harpy slayer."

Tav looks at them all, seeming to take in the equipment and weapons that they have on hand. In all honesty, Rolan didn't even think Tav could think.

Suddenly, Tav grabs Cal and moves him to the front, and in the next moment, he gently moves Lia to the back, leaving Rolan in the middle. "There. That's a good positioning."

"See? Easy!" Cal says cheerfully. "Now can we just-"

"Why can’t I be in the front with Cal?”

“Lia come on-“

“I want to be able to help out!”

Tav yawns briefly before explaining, "You will be helping, a lot. Both of you and Rolan are range users. You will hit goblins better by staying in the back where you'll be more effective. Cal here is in melee, with both a pike and a shield. He can protect you both and be your frontliner, while at the same time, you two cover his blind spot. Although, alternatively, you two could be next to each other, but stay behind him."

Rolan blinks slowly, processing the logic behind it. Damn it all, it's incredibly smart. Maybe Tav isn’t an idiot.

"There, good enough explanation?" He asks.

"It's great! Thank you, sincerely." Lia says, patting Tav's shoulder.

"…You're welcome." He pauses before putting a hand into his bag. "We'll kill those bastards out there, no doubt. But I would feel better if you all have this just in case."

Taking out a bright scroll, he holds it out to the three of them to take. Rolan instantly recognized it, especially with the unique binding on it.

A Resurrection Scroll.

Lia is the first to react and take it. "We won't need this, but thank you! Doesn't hurt to have a backup plan if things go wrong."

"I'll make sure it goes smoothly." He reassures, cracking his knuckles.

"What do you have planned, anyway?" Cal wonders aloud.

"I stole a bunch of smoke powder barrels in their camp and set them up along the perimeter. Anyways, they could be here any moment. Stay vigilant. If all goes super well, you won't even have to fight."

-----

They feel the explosions before they hear it. A deep rumbling in the ground that shakes them, awake and alert. There are so many of them that go off after the first one, like a domino effect. How many barrels could Tav have possibly gotten his hands on??

Unfortunately, those explosions didn’t stop a giant spider and some goblins from coming in.

Goblins were easy. He made quick work of them with his thunderwave, blasting them back into the stone wall. Though with his distraction of mentally stroking his own ego, he didn’t see the giant spider coming up until Cal quickly got to his side, blocking its oncoming fangs with his shield, the force of the bite splintering the wood.

His eyes widen, and he blasts a magic missile at the spider right as Lia shoots an arrow into one of its eyes. It screeches in pain, but it’s stubborn in its conviction. It lunges, and Cal cries out when it tears into his arm, trying to rip off his flesh.

Rolan shoots off another thunderwave in his anger and panic, killing the spider in an instant. He watches some of the legs get cut clean off, the body flying and crashing into some crates, destroying them, and its sickly green innards spilling onto the dirt floor. A disgusting sight, indeed.

“Cal!” Lia yells quickly, snapping Rolan back into reality and he quickly rushes over.

Cal is teary-eyed but tries to wave it off, even as Lia tries to get a better look. “I-I’m fine, I’m fine.”

“No, you’re not. Come here.” Rolan says maybe a little too harshly, making his brother sit down on a wayward crate and grabbing his elbow to hold it still.

“Rolan please-“

“You look close to crying! Just-“ He stops himself and takes a deep breath, eyes meeting his. “Let me help. Please.”

Cal sighs shakily but nods, letting his arm be lifted for him and Lia to see.

It’s a deep injury, but nothing deathly serious. It looks painful. The spider managed to inject some kind of poison, but Cal resisted whatever effect it could have taken.

Rolan takes out one of the health potions he’s received from Tav and carefully pours it over the injury, and it slowly seals the wound. No scar is left behind, surprisingly enough.

“Does it hurt?” Lia gently presses.

“Not anymore. Thanks, Rolan.”

He wants to yell at him so badly, the argument already bubbling up his throat. Why wasn’t he more careful? Why did he jump towards his side so quickly? He had it handled! He’s supposed to protect him, not the other way around.

Instead, he settles on, “You’re welcome.”

Knowing it’s safer, Cal leans against him quietly, and Rolan carefully holds him with Lia. It wasn’t even a close call, but it’s clear Cal needed some comfort.

No more enemies come through. There were no casualties, either.

Zevlor ends up making a speech at the gate when they check out the damage, and he’s sure others are inspired, but he’s barely paying attention to it. He doesn’t care, in all honestly. He wants to leave this fucking grove and never look back; it is by far the worst place they’ve ever stayed in, second to Avernus. Though, he might be being dramatic.

He found himself looking around for Tav, but he didn’t see him anywhere. Why was he looking for him, anyway?

When he finally spots him, he shouldn’t be shocked by the amount of gore he’s covered in, but he is. He’s completely drenched in blood, whether from the goblins or the Drow leading them. Some of it was his own since he spots injuries littering his frame. 

He shakes his head and straightens up, shifting his attention to his siblings and ignoring the warmth growing in his cheeks. “Now that this fiasco is over, we will head to Baldur’s Gate.”

“Are you serious Rolan?! Come on, there’s going to be a party!” Lia complains, bumping her hip with his. “We have to go.”

“We don’t have time for parties! Lorroakan is waiting for me, I cannot be late.”

“What’s one party, Rolan? It’s just for a night. We need to rest anyways.” Cal says, looking around the other excited tieflings. When was the last time they saw a crowd of them so happy? He certainly doesn't remember, and it makes his original conviction crack a little.

“I will not-“

Cal takes hold of one of his arms, tugging him. “Please, Rolan? Just for tonight.”

“There’ll be free wine, provided by the heroes.” Lia sing-songs, leaning against him and almost making him stumble.

“…Free wine?” He questions, genuinely thinking about it.

“And free food,” Cal confirms.

Gods, he hates the pathetic puppy-dog eyes that they use. He can’t stand to look at their faces, and he hates it even more that he's falling for it, just as he always has.

He sighs heavily in defeat, head hanging a little low. “Fine.”

“Yes!” Cal cheers, giving him a tight hug.

To his surprise, Lia joins in, the both of them crushing him. “Thank you, Rolan!”

He rolls his eyes but lets a smile break through, even when he can hardly breathe. “All this over a party?”

“It’ll be fun! You’ll see!”

He smirks knowingly, finally separating from the two. “All right all right, I trust that this will be an exceptional occasion. I look forward to seeing you say you love me while drunk, Lia.”

"As if, brother."

It doesn’t take long for Tav to offer up his area with his party members, so they gather with the Tieflings and head to the camp. It doesn’t look like much, but it’s secluded at least.

That bard, Alfira, starts decorating the place in an instant; lantern lights go up, colorful ribbons decorate the trees, and boxes get moved to the side. Others help out, including Lia, but Rolan and Cal sit back and relax for the time being.

When the party finally starts, they pass wine between the three of them.

“Can you give us a magic show, Master Rolan?” She teases.

Rolan rolls his eyes playfully. “Already?”

“Oh! Can you make an owl bear?? Or a dragon!” Cal suggests, scooting forward more on the log.

He stretches out his arms in front of him, cracking his knuckles while doing so. "Patience! Have you no respect for showmanship?"

"Having performance issues Rolan?" Cal whisper-shouts playfully, and Rolan idly notices Tav approaching.

He turns his nose up high momentarily before holding his hands out. "Hush, you. And behold!"

It's a brief performance, but amazing nonetheless if he says so himself. He makes it look like stars that spark, fly, and explode into various lights. He has always been irritated he could never make it last long, but that is what his training will be for.

He looks over at Tav as soon as he claps, seeing the way his eyes glide over the lights. His face doesn’t change in the slightest, so he can’t tell if his clapping is meant to be some sort of taunt or if he’s genuine.

Either way, he does a dramatic bow. "Adoring applause? You're too kind."

"Remember when he couldn't cast that?" Lia teases.

"They grow up so fast," Cal states.

"Never have I met such troglodytes. Now, pass the wine." Rolan demands, but a content smile is plastered on his face.

It seems Lia was about to offer Tav some of it, but when she and Rolan turn towards him, he’s already gone.

“Looks like he already got bored of you.” Lia sings to him.

“Oh hush up.” He huffs, snatching the wine bottle and taking a long drink.

He will never admit how much that comment stung. He doesn’t know why he was so bothered by it in the first place. There are many possibilities he goes over as he feels the alcohol give him a pleasant buzz; was it her wording, or was it the fact that Tav disappeared without a word? Did he get bored? 

Whatever, it doesn’t matter. He doesn’t care what that man thinks of him. He swears he doesn’t.

Later in the night, he drank- no, chugged wine while Cal and Lia chatted with the other tieflings partying. As much as he loved to perform for them both, even someone as great as he gets tired after using a bunch of magic in rapid succession. 

The wine wasn’t good; nothing compares to Arabellan Dry, but what else was there to drink? He refuses to partake in ale or beer, he never found the appeal of it. Honestly, it’s disgusting, and he doesn’t understand why Lia likes it so much. Cal seems to be looking for someone in particular but isn't finding them. He looks disappointed.

As he wonders about Cal and debates checking in on him, he doesn’t notice the brute approaching him until his giant form sits next to him with his own alcohol, the bark of the fallen tree groaning from the extra weight. He covers up how it startled him quickly, tilting his head up towards the brute with a bored expression.

“What do you want?”

“Nothing. I’m here to drink.” He says nonchalantly, sipping on the wine bottle. “Impressive display of magic earlier.”

His nose scrunches up, yellow eyes settling on his flaming ones with a glare. “Was that sarcasm?”

“No. Are you self-taught?”

Of all the things he expected tonight, it wasn’t this. Tav, a person who hits things and asks questions later, is curious about him? He wonders if he has an ulterior motive.

He pushes the thought to the back burner of his brain for now but approaches the conversation cautiously. “I am! And a man with many talents, may I add. I’m going straight to Baldur’s Gate to learn from the best: The Great Lorroakan.”

He sees the imposing Tiefling roll his eyes, putting his bottle down to stare out at the water surrounding the camp. Tav looks a little different, in the moonlight. Seeing him up close is a different experience entirely, and now he can see every little detail about him, including how he was shirtless-

Wait, did he just roll his eyes?

“What?” He demands, posture straightening as he grows defensive.

“Nothing. Just heard he’s a cad is all.” He mutters, deciding to pick the bottle back up and taking a long swig.

“Common gossip and rumors! He’s the greatest wizard in all of Baldur’s Gate. I’ve never imagined he would answer my letters.” He states with a happy sigh, idly swirling the liquid in his bottle. “I will become his apprentice as soon as I arrive. I cannot be late, yet Cal and Lia insist that this party is a wonderful idea. An adoring crowd, fine wine - I daresay this place is almost civilized.”

“Do you regret staying?”

“Of course I do. But Cal and Lia…” He trails off for only a moment but snaps back to it. “They deserve to have some fun for a little while. We’ll leave at dawn, either way.”

The Tiefling stares at him for a moment, seeming to be searching his face. For what, Rolan had no idea. Some kind of lie, perhaps?

“All right then. Good luck to you.” Tav eventually settles on.

“…That’s it??” He exasperates.

“If you’re looking for someone to argue with, find someone else.”

“You-“

“You talk too much.”

He settles a death glare on Tav's form. “Prick.”

Tav slowly looks at him with his own glare, determined to play his game. “Entitled fuck.”

“Dumb oaf.”

“Prickly bastard.”

They both stare each other down, faces too close but neither of them breaks their stare. He feels Tav's hot breath ghosting over his lips, and the tension could be cut with a knife.

“You’re insufferable.” Tav huffs, suddenly gripping Rolan’s jaw and kissing him firmly.

He moans in surprise at the force but isn’t against it. In fact, his face gets incredibly red before he remembers he can kiss back.

It’s not like this is his first kiss. He’s given and received kisses before, he’s not some kind of reserved prude. But this is the first one that’s so heavy. Hot. He’s completely out of practice and can do nothing but grip Tav's thicker forearm.

Something about being desirable to Tav makes him throb in his pants, though it also may be the way Tav's tongue is tracing his bottom lip, seeking entry.

Tav's free hand trails to his rear and squeezes, making him inhale sharply; a perfect opportunity for Tav to slide his tongue in to taste him. He knows he's losing his composure and by extension, himself, but what's the harm in indulging in this? It's pathetic, but he's never felt so desired up until this moment, even if this ends up being a fling.

Why did the thought of this being a fling make him feel hollow?

He pulls away to give himself space and to breathe, but Tav doesn't pause, kissing along his jaw and ear. "My tent is west of here if you're interested. No one will hear us."

He shudders at the feeling of sharp teeth grazing the edge of his ear, teasing and provoking. Swallowing, he nods, and Tav pulls him away from the party towards a more secluded part of the area. He hopes that Lia and Cal didn't see him, but they most likely did. He’ll never hear the end of it when he returns.

Almost clumsily, Rolan finds himself in Tav’s tent quickly after, their kissing getting more heated between them. It was a strange feeling, exchanging breaths with someone else, but it felt good. Better than he thought.

They settle down on the floor of the tent, him sitting in Tav’s lap as they continue their make-out. Their tongues dance almost…lovingly. No, he can’t be reading into it right. They barely know each other; he's overthinking again.

He feels his large hands attempting to find the hem of his robes, and he seems to find it quickly as if from experience. Fingers start to dance across the bare skin of his back, running up the ridges of his spine. He sighs out shakily, goosebumps prickling out as his tail anxiously flicks about. Nerves hit him like a loose carriage, fast and suddenly, settling into the pit of his stomach. He felt cold, heart racing a mile a minute.

Why? This was good. Everything was good. This was supposed to feel good.

Why isn’t it?

He’ll give it time. It’s normal to be nervous about this kind of thing, right? Most definitely his lack of experience is a contributor, and doesn’t he deserve this after all his hardship? What’s the harm in pleasure for at least a night.

He feels his back hit the bedroll, warm calloused hands trailing over to the front of his body instead. Their kisses were feverish, desperate, and pent-up. All Rolan could do was grip the bedding below him as nails teased the textured skin of his sternum, a hand rolling a nipple between two fingers.

Tav’s lips go to his neck, finger tips trailing teasingly down his stomach before he begins to palm at his crotch through his smalls-

He can’t do it.

A cold sweat beads on the back of Rolan’s neck, panic and bile rising in his throat as it closes. He can’t do it, and he quickly grabs Tav’s arm with a death grip with wide eyes. “W-Wait, stop!”

Tav immediately gets his hands off of him, giving him space to move. His head reels from the sudden adrenaline, but also because Tav’s stoic demeanor is no longer present, and the man genuinely looks concerned. Fearful, even. “Did I hurt you?”

“No! No.” He reassures quickly, but his vulnerable mind is scattered and unfocused as he sits up.

There’s so many reasons why he couldn’t do this, but he can’t pin one down. Surely, Tav deserves an explanation, so he rushes to think of one.

It’s too soon, he hasn’t done this before, and this isn’t the place for it, he’s not a degenerate, his siblings are nearby, Tav is too imposing, it might hurt, it’s too vulnerable, he’s never been with a man, he’s never been with anyone, this is the wrong place to do it, he’s a coward, he’s scared-

“I can’t.” He grimaces, with no actual reason good enough to say out loud. Part of him is worried about what Tav would say; would he be upset with him? On one hand, if he does, Rolan knows that Tav was never worth his time. But on the other, he found Tav not as insufferable as he thought, and he may have just ruined the strange bond they made by stopping everything. Gods, he is pathetic, isn’t he?

Tav sighs slowly in relief, sitting back. “That’s okay.”

It’s not good enough, not for Rolan. As a wizard, he demands answers for a multitude of reasons when things happen. It’s only fair that he gives an explanation, is it not? Finally, he pins down a reason he could give: he doesn’t want to do it after having so much wine. There, that should do it.

Before he could start his tangent, he felt a hand cover his mouth.

“I don’t need a reason. It’s okay.”

He’s about to argue, completely insulted, but it gets muffled by the hand on his mouth.

“You don’t ever have to explain to me why you want to stop.” He says, finally moving his hand away. “I’m sorry if you felt like you couldn’t say no to me earlier.”

“I did want it.” He assured quickly, because he did. He truly did. Why did he panic?

“But you changed your mind.” He began, not unkindly.

“I did.”

“That’s fine.” He says with a small shrug. “If you want, we can keep kissing. Nothing further than that.”

He laughs in disbelief, running a hand down his sweaty face. “And why would we do that?”

“Doesn’t hurt to have company for a night. Besides-“ He gently takes hold of his chin, tilting his face up. “You seemed to enjoy what we were doing. Why not indulge? Just for one night.”

He smirks up at him, leaning forward with false confidence. “Am I that irresistible?”

“You have a pretty face.” He noted, swiping his thumb across his kiss-bruised lip before kissing him again.

The kiss is lazy and less heated, but it makes his heart pound all the same. Being held so tenderly is new, and he’s growing attached.

He cannot have attachments. What is he thinking? 

After kissing for a little longer, he lets himself be held in the bedroll as they lay down, indulging in the quiet night with Tav. They didn’t need to discuss what happened or question it. It’s exchanging favors. For Rolan, it’s just wanting the comfort of another body near him, letting him pretend that he’ll have something like this in the future. One day, he’ll be good enough for someone. He’s not sure what this does for Tav exactly, but he seems content to hold him.

“You can ask for more if you’d like.”

“I’d rather not embarrass myself more than I already have.” He barks before glancing at him in apology, eyes softer.

“Would it help if I said I will keep my mouth shut about this?” Tav suggested, pushing some hair away from his face.

He shifts to glance at his face, seeing if he is genuine. He can never read his face that well, but when he makes his judgment, he sighs and takes one of Tav’s hands, lacing his fingers through his.

“This is pathetic, I know.”

“I don’t think it’s pathetic.” He mumbles, squeezing his hand. “This is nice for me, too.”

Rolan feels himself relax more, body almost relieved that this hasn’t been rejected.

“What will you do, when you finally get your apprenticeship figured out?” Tav asks in the quiet.

“I’ll learn everything I can about all schools of magic. Then I can put on a real show for Cal and Lia.”

“They seem to love your shows already, why change them?”

“It’ll be different.” He pledged, “Bigger, better, and more sustainable. I’ll make them last so much longer, I’ll bring it more colors, and the illusion will look realistic. You will see.”

“I’m sure they’ll be great.” He yawns, nuzzling into the back of his neck.

“I will show you when you reach to Baldur’s Gate, my friend.”

There’s no response, only a quiet snore greets him. At first, he’s annoyed, but it’s hard to be angry when he is just as exhausted from today. For now, he falls asleep in his arms, hoping that for once no nightmares haunt him.

The Tiefling beside him is still fast asleep when he wakes at dawn, though he’s impressed by how the man can sleep through the screeching birds outside.

Quickly, he fixes his robes and hair, trying to not look like a mess. Cal and Lia are surely going to tease him, knowing he never returned to their tent. He debates on whether to wake the idiot up to say goodbye, but that seems foolish. He needs to sleep, and they need to head to Baldur’s gate immediately.

So he opens the tent, sparing one more look back before leaving.

He cannot create attachments. Not now, not ever. Not until he’s done with his apprenticeship.

[doppel-doodles]

Since everyone is making their own little version of the characters I thought I would join the fun for my Fallen crown Au! These were supposed to be quick little sketches just to get some ideas down but they still took me the whole day:'D will probably change as I draw them but I wanted at least something down on for the time being and I do like how most turned out!

Single versions plus some info and ramblings about each under cut for those interested:

My lamb was mainly based on both, yes the actual player character but also the vibes of my own plathrough which were very "oh god who let this child be in charge?-" while I'll still mostly just call them Lamb I figured they should still have a proper name so I went with my friends @/tamaruaart suggestion as it suits them rather nicely! And most note worthy detail is honestly just the fact that they carry something from each bishops realm on their person now, I like to think they treat those items like little trophies:>

Narinder is probably my weakest I feel like, he definitely needs something to give him some extra "ompf!". I basically made his undertaker fit a sorta reverse or at least loosely inspired by his white robes in game. I imagine he is very boney or a straight up skeleton underneath so he covers it all up beneath heavy fabrics, but because I lack subtly I still covered him in bones regardless-

And yea I kept the veil cause 1. It's a look and 2. It coviently covers up his now sewn shut third eye.

There wasn't much reason behind making him an undertaker, I simply thought it suited him, when your the former god of death you aren't exactly squeamish around corpses. Lastly the dark blues are there to contrast the other followers warm tones, as they kinda seen him as an outcast which is just fine for narinder he isnt exactly thrilled to be here.

I'll put Leshy and Heket together as they were sorta designed as a set.Since they are both youngest among the bishops I sorta latched onto the headcanon that they get along pretty well and just stick together after getting into the cult so they just share a lot of their duties. So I gave them some matching elements like the puffy shorts but also stuff that contrasts like Leshy having looser clothing and Hekets being more tight. Or Heket getting working gloves with a little belt to hold tools plus a hat for the sun, meanwhile Leshy will happily dig through the dirt bare clawed in the sun for hours-

I debated on giving Heket an apron but honestly I think she would only wear one while cooking or tending the farm plots there is no reason for her to wear it casually, the gloves though stay for I reason I utterly love because its PETTY-

Literally the only reason she keeps them on almost constantly is because when the lamb asks she can be like "ew, I'm not touching you with my bare hands." Yes, my humour is broken moving on-

I also gave Leshy a cane just so he actually has something to feel around with when he is areas he isn't too familiar with so he isn't running into crap- on that note, Heket can speak a bit but not exactly loud or for a very long time without seriously hurting her throat, once I properly learn it I definitely wanna draw her using sign language.

Lastly bodies, Leshy was based off a previous drawing I made of him in bishop form, I simply made it less monsterous but he is in charge of chaos so he had to remain a creature- Heket is more straight forward, she is a frog and she is large and in charge.

There was one reason why I made Shamura a tailor and that was the mental image of them sewing the bishops clothes when they were younger and dressing them up all cute.

I went for more pink colors mainly because I thought it better suited the purple and would make their red eyes pop! Honestly I really love their colors they remind me of a Berry! I've drawn shamura before but honestly the only things that stuck were the colors,face and then also the hand markings I did tweak their eyes a bit I wanted something more stern feeling.

For clothing I kept everything nice and loose, while they are the tailor I also love the idea that in their spare time they either teach the youths in the cult or are like the champion of the fighting pit because war is also their domain and they can be- so I wanted them dressed pretty comfy to deal with whatever may come! But still keep everything pretty mature and mildly fancy maybe in the future I'll do some fancy gold and silver embroidery to the pants because of that.

As for body type I wanted them to be pretty thin but unlike Narinder who is twink material under his cloak they have a bit more bulk on top to show that they can choose violence if they so wish-

I adore me some pathetic but still serving men, honestly except for the cross on his belt I completely ignored the fact I made him a medic- If he needs to treat something gross he can throw something over to protect his clothes but just like Heket there is no reason for him to wear that while not working.

Otherwise my main goal was simply to make Kalamar look pretty and fancy. I debated on either short or long bottoms until I realized I'd have to figure out his tentacle situation, then realized I don't hate myself THAT MUCH so bro got put into a floor length gown, work smarter not harder kids.

If I have an excuse to give a character a shawl I will take it so fast.

His body type I mainly wanted to flesh out the roster so I tried making him very squishy and huggable looking, I debated on thinner so he looked more dangly and stretchy but that made him kinda to similar to Narinders build for my liking.

[pinetreevillain]

Rise Turtle Strength Calculator

Part 2: Purple Bugaloo

Disclaimer: I Am Just A Guy And 100% of this is guessing, googling, and approximation

So!!!! Got a request to determine Donnie’s strength and the journey was an Interesting One.

So let’s start with the most popular

EXHIBIT A: Dumbbell (Insane In The Mama Train)

He pulls it off with ease (relaxed pose, no real effort exerted until he makes the effort of hefting it and throwing it). Going off the size of these dumbbells, they are either 45lbs or 100lbs. This is a big gap! But seeing as the yokai falls over as soon as its removed, we can assume that Donnie is AT MOST tossing a 100lb weight with little to no effort.

UNFORTUNATELY this doesn’t tell us much else since we don’t see the weight hitting anyone/anything other than the traincar door before it teleports away.

So! We must delve further

EXHIBIT B: Donnie’s Equipment

We know Donnie’s tech bō is made from high grade titanium.

TITANIUM IS A LIGHT METAL! Revered for being light weight, flexible, and rust-proof. Used to make medical tools! This make perfect sense as 1) ninjas need maximum mobility and heavy equipment is counter intuitive, 2) melee weapons are supposed to be LIGHT (see reason 1).

However! This does not stop me from calculating the weight of Donnie’s tech bō regardless.

TO DO THAT, i must first calculate the length of his staff (operating under the assumption that both the ninpo staff and the tech bō are the same in size).

BŌ STAFFS ideally are the same height as the wielder. We are going to use this image (cannot find source) as reference, just like i did w Raph (give or take any growth between season 3 finale and movie)

Donnie is 5’3”, and while i’m here, weighs ~140lbs give or take after plastron, muscle mass, and Bones

The average bō staff has a circumference of about 1-1 1/8th of an inch depending on the length. I’m leaning more towards the larger because of the tech bōs gadgetry and hammerspace.

NOW to calculate how heavy a 5’3” metal pole that’s 1 1/8 inch in width of titanium.

Thankfully the internet is Insane and literally has a calculator that calculates this exact thing.

I was able to come to the conclusion that his tech bō probably weighs no more than approximately 1 pound.

Not very heavy!

What about his battle shell?

WELL it depends! For ease, I’m going to calculate it like a backpack.

The average public school backpack is 12-20 lbs full (heavy and 5-20% heavier than a child SHOULD be carrying to avoid back and neck strain).

I’m going to use measurements from this Random Backpack Website I Found and calculate it as a Medium Backpack (larger than standard) with a laptop pouch, and some minor adjustments since his shell covers him from neck to ass (roughly 24 inches, his height is in his legs)

It’s harder to calculate the shell because he has Different kinds and they’re made of different materials.

I am going to give all of these a base of 66lbs + whatever equipment they have

His Mango shell is probably largely padding with minimal titanium lining

Ice Maker shell is probably heavier. Spider Shell, Drone Shell, are all made w titanium so. Assuming Donnie makes EVERYTHING out of titanium

TECH BŌ: 5’3”, ~1 lb

BATTLE SHELLS:

- Mango: ~66lbs

- Drone: ~150 lbs (including whatever is powering it)

- Ice Maker: ~200 lbs (including ice)

- Spider Shell: ~150lbs

🧍

New approach!

EXHIBIT C: APRIL

WE SEE DONNIE CARRYING/SUPPORTING APRIL A NUMBER OF TIMES. A majority of them i am writing off because he is using his tech to assist.

HE IS just holding her up easily in this shot. After some cursory google searches i determined April O’neil to be ~110lbs soaking wet because she’s 4’8”, petite, and the boys fling her around like she’s made of craft foam.

Conclusion: Donnie can lift/throw a fairly decent 110 pounds, and carry approximately 200lbs

This is a small number after raph’s 20,000 lbs, and i can barely lift an 84lbs dog so I’m not gonna sneeze at it. It does however check out for someone who is physically fit and active (and does backflips and parkour and fights enemies four times his bodyweight)

BUT WAIT!!! PINE!!! WHAT ABOUT…

EXHIBIT D: SUBWAY KRANG (The Movie)

Donnie DOES get bonked pretty hard by a subway car and doesn’t Immediately Die. To determine this I had to calculate the Weight Of A Subway Car and the Breaking Point of Titanium.

Subway car: 82,000lbs empty

119,000lbs full

Because the subway car looks like this

I’m gonna call it full.

Titanium has a tensile strength of 63,000 pounds per square inch.

After determining the size of Donnie’s shell off his body, and how much titanium was used, i cam to the conclusion that…

I CAN’T ACTUALLY CALCULATE it because the shell he was wearing was actually mystic/ninpo made and therefore NOT SOMETHING I CAN CALCULATE! It does explain why Donnie wasn’t Rapidly Dispersed upon being bonked by an INSANE AMOUNT OF FORCE.

This very issue crops up again with the other example of Donnie lifting and slapping down the drill on Shredder in the season finale. That was aided ENTIRELY by ninpo/mystic abilities and therefore incalculable.

My counter to the argument that “their ninpo is gone, it’s not mystic anymore” is that Yes They Could Not Access Their Ninpo, but their ninpo-made weapons were still fully intact, and TECHNICALLY still working, the ability to use them had just been locked away

i also humbly believe that Draxum’s Ooze made the boys’ bones EXTREMELY resilient and capable of absorbing force the same way Captain America’s shield absorbs vibrations — my way of explaining why they sustain little to no injury throughout the series.

That being said, it makes the fact that Donnie couldn’t break open a watermelon AND sprains his ankle pretty badly tripping on a fruit EXTREMELY FUCKING FUNNY TO ME.

TL;DR: Donnie can throw ~110lbs give or take, with a lift/carry of maximum 200lb (maybe a bit more before it hinders his movement speed!)

Donnie’s probably not excessively strong but he is CERTAINLY sturdy. Something something rectangles symbolizing stability blah blah metaphor metaphor

[rewritingcanon]

I just ADORE the idea of potter sibs learning lessons from their namesakes and being nothing like them :)

James being calm and studious and kinder than his namesakes

Albus learning how NOT to handle very specific social situations from his namesakes

And Lily is just like "FUCK them kids lmao"

YESSSSS literally.

james is more popular than his namesakes were (i like to think james and sirius were just impervious to popularity&they just gave 0 fucks, although sirius was default popular because of his surname and his attractiveness) because hes more welcoming and less of a dick and a nepobaby, but he’s emotionally distant with his peers and finds it hard to open up to others because he’s always a little suspicious of people (unlike james sr, who was an open book). he plays quidditch because he knows he should and it makes his mum happy and its kinda fun and hes kinda good but hes not that passionate about it. he gets amazing grades because hes studies a lot and not because hes a natural genius (unlike sirius, who didnt have to study hard for anything to pass comfortably). james a perfectionist, by-the-book person who struggles to think outside of the box, unlike his grandfather whos genius lied in nothing else.

albus reminds me more of his namesakes than the other two potter siblings, but he probably would appreciate the comparison the least. he’s quiet and lonesome and angsty with a ‘no one will understand me’ mindset, but severely attaches himself to the people he loves, and carries them with him throughout his life without ever moving on (all exactly like severus). hes cunning and always ready to martyr himself (both dumbledore and severus), but hes way more audacious and simple. he has a ‘1 + 1 = 2 end of story’ mind that he got from his parents that completely goes against severus and dumbledore’ long game of chess. albus does not care for such BS, hes still got that gryffindor dawg in him. he will go against every expectation set out for him on purpose (unlike dumbledore and snape, who will use their reputation to their advantage). also, albus is happy lmfao. its why he commits his life to himself and not to others like his namesakes did. he wants simple things like nicely-cooked dinners, warm houses, and to get married young and start a family. kind of like his dad and grandmother.

and lilyyyyy. she is all over the place. she is the quidditch star, the loud one in class, the person who fakes her report cards so her mum doesnt freak out at her. shes not studious like her grandmother, she attracts people to her and selects the greatest pick out of the litter for friends, and shes got a lot of friends (unlike lily evans, who’s love is so concentrated and loyal to very few, and luna who was socially repellent). she travels everywhere because shes a glutton for experiences, she doesnt plan ahead, shes will never be tied down— not even by true love and the prospect of staying with them forever. shes open like luna but her mind is more of a straight arrow than luna’s genius. lily grows up and never has any kids, not because she hates children but because she just never particularly wanted to. she never grew out of being reckless and impatient and impulsive, and she had always known that those traits would not be compatible with raising a child and she was okay with that (unlike lily evans who had always wanted to be a mother, and had dedicated herself to her baby).

[gallifreyanhotfive]

Random Doctor Who Facts You Might Not Know, Part 48

The Eleventh Doctor and the Fifteenth Doctor once worked together in an attempt to free a woman named Nora Wicker from a time bubble, but before they could do so, Nora confided in the Eleventh and told him she wished to stay. (Audio: The World Tree)

The first alien planet Rose went to was Justice Alpha. Before that, she had only been to space stations and ships. (Novel: The Monsters Inside)

The Eleventh Doctor keeps the Second's recorder in his pocket sometimes. (Novel: Shroud of Sorrow)

Chad Boyle frequently tormented Ace as a child. At one point, he almost hit her with a brick, but he was stopped by an older version of Ace. If he had hit the younger Ace, he would have killed her. (Novel: Timewyrm: Revelation)

There are several academic cities on Gallifrey, including Prydos, Patrexi, and Arcalia. (Novel: The Garden of Evil)

The Oldharbour Clock is a really old clock near the Capitol on Gallifrey. It is intricately decorated with little figures that dance with every chime of the hour. These figures, however, gained sentience and are actually the most intelligent beings on the entire planet. (Novel: The Infinity Doctors)

Lake Abydos on Gallifrey is home to singing fish. Romana's family spent a lot of time here, and she used to swim in the water when she was young. (Audio: Neverland)

After being resurrected, the Celestial Intervention Agency allowed the Master to read up on the Doctor’s past, making him aware of what happened to Lucie, Tamsin, and Alex. (Audio: Masterplan) This also means the Master is probably aware of any major events in the Doctor’s life from before that time as well.

The Doctor once saved Peter Capaldi from a Mandrel and Peter Davison from a Krynoid. (Comic: The Girl Who Loved Doctor Who)

The Eleventh Doctor said that the TARDIS has a GPS with the voice of Davros. (Audio: Trouble in Paradise)

Leela had a sister named Ennia, who was killed by Horda at three years old before Leela was born. Their mother killed the Horda with a knife, the same one Leela carries. (Novel: Eye of Heaven)

Ophiuchus was a Time Lord healer who managed to overcome the regeneration cycle limit on thirteen incarnations. For this, the High Council declared him a renegade, claiming that he had to do things such as vivisection to extend the lives of Gallifreyan criminals. (Comic: Ophiuchus)

Some Time Tots keep rovies as pets. (Audio: No Place Like Home)

Susan was 97 when she applied to Coal Hill School. (Novel: The Time Lord Letters)

Jane Templeton was a trainee Time Lord attending the Academy. She got stranded in Ancient Egypt and lost her TARDIS, which had taken on the appearance of a shabti figure. By the time she found her TARDIS, she was in her thirteenth incarnation, and her TARDIS was so degraded that the Seventh Doctor said it should be euthanized, which would involve flying it into the heart of a star. Since she had impersonated the god Thoth, she was guilty of class 2 intervention, the punishment for which is vaporization. Instead of letting the Doctor save her, she slipped into her own TARDIS and died with it. (Audio: False Gods)

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[suuuupernovaaa]

kxuke - part 2

kxuke [ˈk’u.kɛ] adj. safe

Request from @myrealmstuff: Part 2 for Kxuke please, it's so beautiful.

+

Request from @hyunjinoak: Can I request Neteyam x reader story where the reader is pregnant and going through a really tough pregnancy complications and Neteyam is helping it? Nnd when the reader has difficult delivery (heavy bleeding / too long contraction or something like that) Neteyam helps reader and in the end have a healthy baby?

Part 1 [Summary: A Marine avatar, part of Quartich's team, is held captive by the Sullys. She is tough but damaged from an abusive upbringing on earth. Slowly, she and Neteyam fall for each other, and she is granted new life in her avatar body by Eywa. Neteyam's family is not pleased, but Neteyam asks her to be his mate. You should probably read Part 1 before reading Part 2.]

TW: blood, pregnancy

Watching the last remaining ship leave is surreal for me. Everyone I knew in my previous life now gone, suspended in sleep for six years, back to the planet I once called home.

It doesn't feel like home now, when I think it about it. It sort of feels like a nightmare; the abuse I suffered at the hands of my parents, multiple partners; the relief I felt when joining the marines, only to realize I had become the oppressor and abuser.

Never once have I regretted my decision to turn my back on my people. Maybe I should... but they never did a damn thing for me but use and abuse me, my entire life.

Though my new family was hard-won, they have never hurt me, or yelled at me, or made me feel little and stupid.

Tuk and Kiri were the quickest to accept me, with Lo'ak soon after. Then came Jake, because as it turned out, we had quite a lot in common. Rough upbringing. Marine background. Abandoning our race for a new one. You don't often meet other people in that situation. Our mutual understanding turned to friendship, and then a familial like relationship.

Neytiri was the hardest, but it was her mother's heart that got her in the end. It just came out, on a hunt, a story about my own mother, and something she'd done to me when I was barely out of diapers.

Something in Neytiri changed towards me in that moment, and she held me in her arms as I cried, and told me she would try to be a better mother to me.

Now I stand with my family, my mate Neteyam, and I place my hand over my swollen stomach as the cheering erupts around me at the joy and relief everyone feels. The baby is kicking again; he must be able to feel my happiness.

We are finally free.

--

The pregnancy has not been easy on me. I try every day to feel joyful about the new life I'm bringing into the world, and grateful to be staring my own family with Neteyam, but I am so tired, all of the time.

The simplest tasks have become exhausting, especially as the pregnancy has gotten to its final stages. Tsahik tells me I need to rest, and that she thinks the birth will be difficult... so that's something to look forward to.

Neteyam practically carries me in his arms everywhere we go, and dotes on me so aggressively that it sends me to tears at least three times a day.

Everything makes me cry. Neytiri tells me it's normal, but it feels embarrassing nonetheless. I burst into tears when Tuk squeezes my hand as we walk, or when I see another mother with a small child, and nearly every time Neteyam does anything nice for me.

Which is almost constantly. Neteyam is thoughtful, caring, and constantly going the extra mile to make me comfortable. I thought I loved him before, but I know now that every day, I will love him a little bit more - even when it feels like I couldn't possibly love him more, he does something so small but so meaningful, like bringing me home a flower for my hair, and my love for him explodes.

Just a few short weeks after the humans have returned to earth, I wake up in a searing hot pain, all around my abdomen, and shooting through my lower back.

"Oh my god!" I scream in English. "Neteyam! Something's wrong! Or, it's happening, maybe!"

Neteyam leaps up next to me, squatting beside me, grabbing my arm to support me.

"Happening?" he asks, also in English. It's so hard to speak in a second language when I'm in so much pain, even if I would consider myself fluent.

"Get Tsahik. And your mom!" I holler, but there are already footsteps approaching.

"I am here!" Neytiri says, running through the door. I guess that's a benefit to having your in-laws just steps away. "Jake is bringing Ronal. What do you feel?"

"Pain," I reply, switching back to Na'vi. "Here, and here," I gesture all around my waist, and my back.

Neytiri tsks. "Bah, back labor. It will be painful. Ronal will bring medicine to help."

I lean onto Neteyam, wondering what the Na'vi equivalent of an epidural is.

--

It is not until two days later that I hold my son in my arms. Looking into his eyes here, the pain of the past hours is already fading away in my mind.

The screaming, the blood, the pushing and tearing; the throbbing pain I feel even now... it doesn't matter.

He is beautiful. Four fingers like Neteyam, eyebrows like me, and his hair seems to almost have a reddish shine to it, but it could just be the sunrise. His cheeks are round and when he opens his eyes, they're a beautiful amber color. He has been attached to my breast since the moment he came into the world, but now, he is sleeping peacefully. Ronal has sewn me up and left medicine behind for me to take, and Neteyam's family waits outside until they're given the go-ahead to come in. Only Neytiri has met her grandson; I demanded she be there for the entire birth, and she did not leave my side.

It was the first time in my life that I truly felt a mother's love.

"Take him, Neteyam," I say. "Hold your son."

There are tears in his eyes as he reaches out and takes the swaddled baby.

"Remove his blanket, put him right on your chest. It's good for them, to be skin to skin." I don't know how much of my limited earth knowledge of babies will apply here, but surely that's correct.

"He's so beautiful, and warm," Neteyam says, holding his naked son to his chest. I lay the blanket over him, and Neteyam strokes his tiny back. "I love him so much. I love you so much." He looks at me, the tears falling freely now for both of us.

"You saved my life, Neteyam. I never imagined I would have any of this. I am so grateful to you."

Neteyam leans over gently, and presses a soft kiss to my forehead. "Thank you for this gift, Y/N. You are my treasure."