#this is probably the most neglectful place i’ve ever been

[innko]

i’m seeing 2 different doctors at the uni hospital - a gynecologist and an internist. the gynecologist ordered bloods my first visit, which she never gave me. i got them from the internist after asking and my CA 19-9 was moderately elevated, which is elevated enough to possibly be cancer, although most of the time the cause of elevated CA 19-9 is a benign disease. but all the internist said about it was “you’re not young so it’s not cancer” and when i asked the gynecologist, she didn’t even apologize for forgetting to give them to me and just said “a lot of times it’s elevated for no reason” (maybe true for slightly elevated but not when it’s elevated enough to possibly be cancer - it’s usually caused by something, whether malignant or benign. completely healthy people don’t just produce loads of CA 19-9). and she only told me she’d retest for it next month after i pointed out it can be caused by gi diseases, WHICH I HAVE THE SYMPTOMS OF. i mean it probably is a benign cause but now i get to go around having fleeting paranoid thoughts about having pancreatic cancer and kicking it because the uni hospital wanted to ignore me and my test results. and even if it’s not cancer, they’re a hospital??? they’re also supposed to diagnose and treat benign diseases???

[chelseeebe]

falling.

a/n: wow man, i truly am awful but i’ve been very ill and very busy and have seriously neglected writing so have a lil something i wrote to ease back into it! it’s a continuation of seven minutes in heaven and on my knees (for you) but is very much fluff and lovely<3

18+ mdni. smut. mentions of r being drunk but mostly just love and fluff<3

everybody knew.

or at least now they did.

there’s not much room for secrets when you’re drunk and clambering all over him in front of a room full of your friends, was there?

eddie’s never seen you so.. loose. the bottle of wine had ignited something within you, clearly. your fingers twisting into his shirt, sticky, gloss-covered lips attached to his neck.

he’s grateful that your leg is slung over his lap, hiding the uncomfortable rising in his pants, made worse by your constant fidgeting and the soft whispers into his ear.

it wasn’t as if you two were much of a secret anymore anyway, robin, nancy and vickie had all figured it out that day he answered your door in his boxers. and now at least most people had caught on.

“i need you eds,” you whisper sultrily, not a care for his poor growing boner. there are only so many dead puppies you can think of before it stops working, by the way.

“we can’t..” trust, he had already surveyed the house and decided that sneaking off would be highly risky, too much chance for interruption to make it worthwhile.

“we can,” you beg, practically growling into his ear, “let’s go home,” fingertips now dancing down his shirt, dangerously nearing the waistband of his jeans.

he blinks, turning his head to face yours, noses bumping against each other, “it’s not even ten.. we can’t leave yet,” he wouldn’t have sex with you like this anyway, too much pinot grigio coursing through your veins to make it right.

you huff, nostrils flaring in your tiny tantrum, “you’re so mean,” jutting your bottom lip out.

eddie’s eyes dart around the room, catching a few stray looks, people confused about your position or why you were practically straddling him of all people. “people are looking at us..” and the thing is, no matter how many times you could tell him that you wanted him, no matter how many times you showed him that you wanted him, he wouldn’t believe it.

“i don’t care,” you scoff, connecting your lips hastily, a new feat compared to the sly neck kisses you’d been giving prior.

it had never been about hiding for you, more so about keeping things just for you two. nobody else needed an opinion or opportunity to ruin things, that was it. but now, the longer you continued to hang out and enjoy each other’s company outside of fucking, the more he felt himself falling.

now, eddie reckons he was probably in love with you from the second you’d dragged him into that closet but now he’s pretty certain he is. it’s different now, a level of consideration there that wasn’t ever apparent before.

it had been solidified for him a couple weekends ago during a game of spin the bottle, when it had landed on you and then subsequently jason. eddie’s heart stopped beating until you swerved his mouth, landing a small peck on his cheek in place of a real kiss.

that was different.

“please can we go,” you beg, fisting the soft material of his shirt, keeping your lips lingering over his.

he clears his throat, and really, you should know him by now. you should know that an ounce of attention from you would result in a stiffy he couldn’t shake. his eyes fall to his crotch, “i can’t.. i can’t get up,” cheeks flushing a ruby red.

your eyes join his, peering down between your leg and his stomach, a grin spreading across your devilish face, “i can fix that,” tilting his chin upwards with your painted nail, “if we go home.”

his forehead knocks against yours, giving up on this nonexistent fight with you, “fine, give me.. five,” hoping he somewhat hide his indiscretion from your friend’s prying eyes.

he does eventually, get off the chair, craftily readjusting his pants as you gather your bag. robin’s head perks up, brows raised at the sight of you leaving already, “i’m gonna walk her home.. too much to drink i think..” wrapping an arm around your shoulder, guiding you through the party and out onto the street.

the front yard is littered with drunks, paying no mind to you and your unsteady feet.

you’re so loud, giggling as eddie attempts to rein you in, a tight grip on your arm while you wobble over the sidewalk.

“hey,” you pout, stopping in your tracks. fuck, he just wanted to get home, as much as he adored whatever antics you were up to, he was freezing his balls off and you’re plastered.

“what?” he replies softly because no matter how annoyed he was, he’d never take it out on you.

your eyes are hazy, glossed over and barely able to focus on him but they’re full of love, “all i want to do is kiss you,” lopsided grin growing bigger.

eddie just smiles because there are no words he could ever jumble together to reply to that. not the way you deserved anyway.

“can i?”

how could he say no?

with your eyes round and glittering in the moonlight, lips pouted perfectly.

“of course you can,” he laughs, hooking his arm around your shoulder, pausing just before your lips meet his, revelling in the moment.

you press your lips to his, a little sloppy but full of love, tender and soft. you smile as you pull back, gripping onto his leather jacket, “we can go home now,” smiling into the night.

eddie feels a little sick. he hopes to god that he’s right about this, that you feel the same way he does. all signs point to yes but how’s he to know without your confirmation?

-

he’s abruptly awoken when the bathroom door slams shut, a collection of unpleasant sounds come from the other side.

he’s not surprised you’re sick, in fact, he’d left a your trash can to the side of the bed last night, just in case.

see, eddie’s not really an early riser but he doesn’t mind being woken up this early when he’s being woken up by you. vomit or no vomit.

you emerge from the bathroom with a colossal pout and a minty breath. sliding back into bed with a small groan. “did i wake you?” you ask, nestling back into his side.

“mhm,” he hums, appreciating the warmth you bring, “i don’t mind, you okay?” he asks, sliding an arm around your shoulders.

“i am now,” smiling slightly. your hand creeps down, making him jump as your cold fingers rest on his stomach.

he watches with tired eyes, hoping this is going where he thinks it may. your hands, despite feeling frozen, are always soft, he adored the tender way in which they met his skin.

you hum, body vibrating against the side of his body, “go brush your teeth,” poking him lightly in the ribs.

“yes ma’am,” eddie practically leaps out of bed, following your orders in hopes that you were implying what he thought. scrubbing his teeth with such ferocity that the toothpaste ends up everywhere.

he’d clean it up later, he thought. too excited to jump back into bed with you to care too much.

you’re already smirking in the low light, propped up slightly by the pillows, holding the blanket open for his return, “hurry up, it’s cold.”

oh he obliges, flying to the bed in record speed, hovering above your waiting body, boyish grin plastered across his face. perhaps one day he wouldn’t almost die every time you suggested sex or flashed him that look.

that day was not today.

your lips latch onto his, hands already finding his sweatpants, delicate fingers hooking into the waistband as you tug them down. he’s already hard, hasn’t been able to program that out of his brain just yet.

eddie’s tongue swipes across your bottom lip, sliding inside and it’s this moment where he’s grateful you made him get up to brush his teeth.

your hand, still a little cold, wraps around his cock, eliciting a gasp in response, pulling him from your lips. “fuck, your hands are cold,” eddie laughs in your face, quickly forgetting the icy temperature when you start pumping your fist.

“you want me to stop?” you ask, smirking devilishly.

“fuck no,” he chuckles, burying his face in your neck, sucking at the sensitive skin. this gets you fired up, squeezing the base of his cock gently.

your head tilts back, allowing him more room to nibble and lick at your bare neck. he struggles to get your shorts down, grunting into your chest when your hips buck upwards against him.

“jesus christ,” he mutters, emerging from the curve of your neck to gaze down at you, his absolute favourite position.

you don’t reply, instead, your tongue pokes out, licking your lips in anticipation. your legs wrap around his back, pulling him in tighter. personal space was an after thought, he thinks you’d climb inside of his skin if you could.

this position is still fairly new to him, looking down at you pressed between the mattress and his body. sometimes he’d be smushed against your chest as you attacked his neck and other times it was more hasty and rushed.

but this- this time, he’s focussed on your face, lingering inches above as his hair falls down against your cheeks.

sliding between your slick folds, nudging inside as his teeth bite down onto his bottom lip, struggling to contain the moan gathering in his throat. he’d been here enough times to know how to move without your bed hitting the wall, it had become an art.

slow, steady strokes, making sure he was moving exactly the way you’d taught him. appreciating the way in which your lips parted and the soft, melodic noises that tumbled out of them.

and yeah, you guys have had sex. plenty of times in fact.

but this felt different somehow, something more.

there’s a lot of that happening lately and eddie’s still unsure about how it makes him feel or if he’s supposed to feel a certain way.

you’re in his hoodie, under his body, moaning his name. that had to mean something, right?

eddie’s hips collide with yours, groaning when your legs tighten around his waist, everything about this feels overwhelmingly intimate. your forehead pressed to his, gazing through hooded eyelids, rolling slightly with every thrust.

“hmm,” you groan, full of rasp, “just like that eds,” manicured nails digging into his shoulder blades, pinching slightly but only spurring him on.

it’s still early, the rest of your house definitely still sleeping, forcing him to swallow his moans. you’re touching yourself, arm threaded between your bodies, circling your clit.

it drives him crazy every time, he assumes that most men wouldn’t appreciate it, a lack of confidence in their abilities or whatever. but eddie loves it, loves that you can make yourself feel good too.

your eyelids flit, breathy moans at every move of his hips, he knows what this means. has learned every tell of your body, the way your mouth falls open and your mind seems to shut off.

“fuck,” you gasp, tightening your grip on his shoulders. moving against him in the final throws, the tip of his cock nestling against the sweet spot.

this is where eddie loses it a little, thrusts becoming sloppy as your fingers work at your clit. he can feel every part of you, squeezing around him and the soft pants that dance into his ear.

his forehead dips, pressed against yours as his senses overcome him, throwing him over the metaphorical edge. “uh shit,” he garbles, spurting his release into your quivering cunt.

you squeak underneath him, mouth agape as your legs shake around his waist, eyes squeezing shut as you cum. it’s fucking magical every single time, it could probably bring him back to life if it really came down to it.

“oh my god,” he breathes, brushing the hair from your forehead, still lingering above as you float down to earth.

your eyes peek open, a smile inching onto your face, once again holding onto his cheeks as you press a solitary kiss to his lips. this was his favourite part of it all, the aftermath.

it usually meant cuddles and chats about nothing. when you were your truest self. eddie wanted to live here for eternity, gazing at the stars in your eyes, happily listening to whatever ramblings you came out with.

the morning is quiet bar you both trying to catch your breath, he can feel your racing heartbeat against his chest and almost wants to say it. to admit to everything he had been feeling.

but you beat him to it. “i love you,” you beam, grinning away to yourself, seemingly unaware of what bomb you had just dropped.

eddie chokes on his spit, coughing and sputtering as he climbs off of your body. lying back on the mattress as his chest heaves. oh my god, he thinks he might be sick.

his head was already spinning, only made worse by your declaration of love. his senses are heightened, looking over at you with bewildered eyes.

“what did you just say?” begging for clarification.

really, the only possible explanation was that this was a dream and he’s about to be rudely awoken and find himself in his own bed, having none of the last six months happen.

“i said,” you smile, pulling yourself into his side, “i love you,” wriggling as you pull your shorts up, intertwining your legs as you do.

“i thought you said that,” eddie laughs deliriously, still frozen in shock. he’s in utter disbelief, just staring at your face in hopes that he’s not cruelly torn out of this moment and it is real.

you tut, pouting slightly, “do you maybe wanna say it back?”

“i do,” he rushes, “i mean, of course i do- love you, i mean,” stumbling over his words, his heart is pounding out of his chest, “i love you too, is what i’m trying to say,” cringing at his severe lack of nonchalance.

even with your extensive training and advice, he’s truly still that weird little virgin boy, still head over heels for you. that’d never change,

“good,” you twinkle, nestling back into his side, arm thrown over his stomach, “you scared me for a minute there.”

he doesn’t understand how you weren’t already well aware that he infatuated with you, he had thought it had been plenty obvious. the man near enough started drooling when you’d touch him for christ’s sake.

“i thought you knew,” shrugging slightly, “i don’t exactly hide it.”

your shoulders shake as you laugh, slightly jittery and still exuberant from your session, “how was i supposed to know you weren’t faking it?”

eddie’s brows thread together, perplexed at your assumption, “you’re the first girl i’ve ever really liked.. let alone loved, i don’t even know how to fake it.”

“shut up,” shaking your head, “you used to like that girl..” clicking your fingers together, “the one with the hair.. whatever her name was.”

“what? you mean carly?”

carly was a friend, helping him pass his marketing class. he had maybe gotten the feeling that she liked him but nothing ever came of it. she wasn’t his type and besides, he’d had his eye on someone else anyway.

“carly! yeah.. you were obsessed i swear, i used to be so pissed off.”

woah. what?

“i didn’t like her.. not like that,” he didn’t, in fact, eddie’s always had a bit of a soft spot for you in reality, “you were pissed off?” he teases, pulling you in tighter.

he felt like he could now, like everything had been established and this was it. you were together. you loved each other.

you give him an over dramatic sigh, “yes i was pissed off,” settling your head on his chest, “i thought you liked her and not me,” he can feel your eyelids flutter shut against his skin, “i’m glad you didn’t though.”

eddie laughs, moving your body as he shakes. he can’t help himself. you were pissed off at the thought of him liking someone else. you. it’s almost nonsensical.

footsteps echo through the hall, stopping outside your door alongside a chorus of whispers. you groan quietly before they pound on the door, obviously eager to collect the gossip.

“what?” you call out, not moving from your position. maybe before you would’ve sprung apart, trying to cover up the obvious but now you embraced it.

robin, nancy and vickie pour into your room, sly smiles on their faces. it’s fairly obvious what had just gone down in here. his cheeks were still blood-red, your leg thrown over his, entangled in the blanket as one.

“so,” robin smiles, pursing her lips, “you have a good night?” alluding to your very public displays of affection.

“i had a fantastic night, thank you,” you grin, refusing to acknowledge the elephant in the room, eddie respected the fuck out of that.

“mm i’m sure,” robin quips, raising her brows before perching on the end of your bed, “you remember anything from last night?” she asks curiously, cocking her head to the side.

you bite down onto your lower lip before answering, “i may have been informed,” rolling your eyes slightly. the other two girls giggle in unison.

“so it’s official?” robin asks outright, not wasting any time. she’d never been one to beat around the bush, jury’s still out on whether it’s a pro or a con.

your shoulders shrug, eyes trailing to eddie, “i’d say so,” smiling knowingly.

they had no idea what had actually just occurred, ignorant to the declaration of love that had happened just moments before they burst in. he knows you’ll probably tell them the second he’s gone but for now he appreciates the secrecy of it all.

a moment only meant for the two of you.

robin grabs onto your ankle, shaking it as she roars excitedly, “i fuckin’ knew it,” beaming with a certain smugness.

your eyes roll back again, “have you got what you wanted now? can i sleep this hangover off without anymore interference?” your words are sharp but hold a tone of humour.

“yes yes, you can go back to being degenerate perverts now,” robin laughs, standing from the bed, vickie guides her girlfriend out of the room with a raise of the brows.

nancy lingers, “we’re going for breakfast in a little while, if you two wanna come,” flashing her tightlipped smile before following after robin and vickie.

the door clicks shut and eddie lets out a sly sigh of relief. they were his friends too, he just wasn’t a fan of being interrogated by them when he’s practically naked and still recovering from your confession of love.

“i’m sorry,” you apologise for their abruptness though it’s unneeded.

eddie just smiles, relishing this moment. you’re lying on his chest, his girlfriend, you love him and he loves you and that’s all there is to it.

“i love you, i really really love you.”

[chelseypprimrose]

Handy With His Hands / handyman!negan x housewife!reader / 18+ / pre-apocalypse

Warnings ⚠️ : unprotected sex, adultery, oral (f receiving), rough sex elements

Summary: being a housewife is quite dull, especially when your husband is a corporate jackass- until a sexy handyman comes to fix your shower.

A/N: I got this little saucy story in my head while reading some handyman!joel miller stories and I just thought: Negan + handyman? so hot! my stories are always something out of a cheesy porno scenario but idec , i know i’m never going to have these fantasies happen to me in the real world so i believe it’s self care to let my dulu stories write out on paper 🤭 please enjoy 🤍

not proof read yet 🫣

“can you please just get someone to come and look at that thing? i’m sick of having to take cold showers!” you exclaimed, your voice travelling from the kitchen to the living room where your husband was on a phone call. “i’m on the phone, honey.” he replied back, hidden annoyance in his tone, recognisable to you but if anyone else was to hear, they’d think it to be cheerful. you cursed him out in your head, counting down the hours until he was going to be gone on his long business trip. finally, you’d be able to take a break from your expected housewife duties, one of your favourite things to do when your husband was away, catch a few rays in your back garden, take a dip naked in the swimming pool. you had to find thrills where you could as your life was a revolving door of the same boring routine, day in and day out. you craved for something, some sort of adventure to come into your life and completely turn it on its head, you were still waiting on that day unfortunately.

you’d been married to your husband for around three years now, even if it felt like forty. it had been a fairytale at the beginning, he’d get you flowers every week, freshly picked, take you out for dinner at least four times a month, he’d seemed like the perfect man to get married to, until you were locked in, bounded by the commitment and paperwork. he’d neglected those responsibilities, it was rare for him to even take you out for a date night anymore, it was usually just forcing you to go to dinner meetings so he could show you off to potential clients, having to spend your evening being hit on and leered over by slimy old men, your body used to close business deals. always buying you some diamond necklace or earrings after the fact, to keep you happy. you spent most of your time at home when not being used as a dress up doll for your husband, cooking, cleaning, keeping the house in perfect condition - not that he ever noticed.

“alright, i’ve got someone coming round to look at the shower, i’ve got to leave for my flight dear. i love you. i’ll give you a call when i land.” he says, his suitcase rolling on four wheels beside him, his head coming down for a peck on your lips, absolutely no spark or electricity through the kiss, not like it used to be. you mumbled a love you back, as you watched him walk out of the front door, a sigh of relief when the door shut behind him. you took your apron off, placing it on the hook next to the cabinets in the kitchen. walking upstairs into your shared bedroom, you quickly changed out of your clothes, putting on a new two piece bikini you’d treated yourself to a couple weeks ago, topping it off with a pair of sunglasses to keep the sun out of your eyes. grabbing a towel on your way out, you slid the patio door open, folding out the towel and placing it on the sun lounger, sitting down on it and lounging out. connecting your phone to the bluetooth speaker outside, you decided to put on your relaxing mix, hoping it would help you get a small nap in before the repairman was here.

it was really hard to get one on such short notice, how your husband had been able to get one the same day baffled you, probably pulled some strings with one of his business buddies you thought. while you had good money in the bank, you despised how your husband would treat other people that weren’t in the same tax bracket as you both were. you were the more generous person in the relationship, giving to various charities when you could, even though it annoyed your husband to no end when you did. in a selfish way, you revealed in it, any subtle way you could piss him off without making it obvious that was your intention, you’d jump at the chance. giving money to those who needed it AND being able to make him angry - win win scenario.

you’d been sat in the back yard for around a hour, lightly snoring as you went in and out of a light sleep, you hadn’t heard the doorbell go the multiple times it had, being awoken when the wooden side gate hit the fence with a loud crash. “holy shit!” you shouted, pulling your sunglasses off your eyes to look towards the gate, seeing a man standing there with a large toolbox in his hand. “hey, didn’t mean to scare you doll. no one answered the doorbell and i saw the gate was unlocked so.” you got yourself up from the sun lounger, taking a couple steps towards the man so you could get a better look at him. damn he was fine, a tight white t-shirt with black cargo pants, covered in what looked like dust, white paint, other substances you could only assume he’d gotten from his line of work. a tattoo peeking out from underneath his sleeve, one on his forearm as well, steel-toe capped boots making slight clink noises as he moved on the concrete path underneath him, you thought he was too attractive to be a handyman, a ‘magic mike’ dancer sure, you give over everything in your bank account to see that little fantasy come to life. his hair slicked back and beard trimmed neatly, your eyes couldn’t help naturally scanning over his muscular, dominating frame.

“hi! you must be the handyman my husband ordered?” you asked, eyebrow raising as you put your hand out for a handshake. “well, i work for the same company, i’m Negan.” he introduced himself as he grasped your hand, meeting yours. his hand felt slightly calloused, a side effect from his job you gathered, you couldn’t deny how sexy they made you feel, being used to the smoothness of your husbands, it was a unlikely turn on. “oh right! i’m y/n. thank you for coming on such short notice, i’m absolutely sick of having cold showers, don’t know how much more i can take of it.” you joked, a small smile sat on your face. “i’ll show you where it is so you can get cracking, i bet there’s more things you’d rather be doing, so hopefully it won’t take too long.” you motioned for him to follow you, walking through the patio door.

Negan followed you into the house, unbeknownst to you, his eyes glued to your small bikini bottoms, showing off your ass in what could only be described as gorgeous. he knew it was wrong, looking at the bosses wife in such a way but he couldn’t help himself, becoming a recent single man again, he hadn’t had the time to get back into the dating scene which in turn meant he wasn’t getting any action and it was driving him nuts. he was only a man, when he’d got the call from your husband, he wasn’t expecting his wife to be home alone, dressed in a bikini, looking good enough to devour.

you got to the en suite bathroom, opening the door, showing him where the controls were. “here it is, i have no clue what’s wrong with it, it just won’t let any hot water through.” you stated, you’d never been good with stuff like this, your husband had always had people on call to fix problems around the house. “i’ll be fine doll, i’ve dealt with this problem loads of times before.” he waved it off with a laugh. “would you like anything to drink? to eat?” you questioned, putting on your best innocent smile. “i wouldn’t mind a coffee, doll but don’t make one on my account.” he beamed back at you, turning away to grab something from his toolbox, you took a look at his tight cargos as he bent down, they shaped the muscularity of his thighs perfectly, his ass looking perfect in them. “i’m sure i can rustle something up for you, how do you take it?” you asked, a slight smirk on your face from how you’d worded the question to him. “no milk, two sugars please. i like it sweet.” he bantered back, leaving you to saunter off to the kitchen.

you returned back to him, slightly boiling coffee in hand, placing it on the large counter where the sink and mirror were placed. “so, how long have you worked with my husband? i don’t think i’ve heard about you before?” you quizzed, knowing the names of your husbands many business partners and staff, you’d have remembered a unique name like Negan, you were sure. “ah not long, used to be a gym teacher before this job, needed a change and i’ve always been good with my hands.” you laughed, the image of Negan bossing around a load of pre teens making you smile. “i wouldn’t have pegged you as a gym teacher, to be honest with you!” he laughed right back at you, turning his head to look towards you. “yeah, a lot of people have told me that, i loved working with the little shits all day, gave them a run for their money, i can tell you that much.” he grimaced, realising what he’d done. “sorry doll, don’t mean to swear, pretty unprofessional of me.” you giggled again, shaking your head at him. “i don’t mind, stop worrying! it’s nice to be in the company of a man who doesn’t change himself to suit other people.” Negan took notice of that, wondering if you were talking about your husband. “well, that’s fucking me all over doll. so, what do you do?” you sighed, knowing how what you said next would come across. “housewife, i stay at home, look after the house and get taken to business dinners when i’m needed.” he noticed your drop in tone, he could sense that you weren’t really happy with that but he didn’t want to speak out of turn. “well your doing a bang up job, this place is immaculate.” you blushed, your husband had never complimented your hard work, always just expecting the house to be sorted, never thinking to thank you for your efforts. “thanks, it’s nice to hear that. i’ll let you get on, if you need anything, don’t hesitate to ask.”

it was about a hour later when Negan had finally finished the shower, it now letting out hot water again. “you are a angel, finally i can have a nice shower!” you exclaimed, hands clapping enthusiastically, Negan laughing at your actions. “absolutely no problem doll.” he smiled at you, trying to escape his thoughts of you taking said shower, the bubbles dripping down your body as you washed them away, how good you’d look naked. “so, stop me if you have somewhere to be but i just got finished making dinner, i forgot i was alone so there is more than enough if you wanted to stay for some?” you asked sheepishly, expecting him to decline, a young single man probably had better things to do on a friday night than sit in with a boring housewife for dinner. “i’d love that doll. let me just take my tools back to my truck.” you freaked out internally, you were excited to spend some more time with this devilishly charming man, he was a breath of fresh air compared to the people you had to hang around with when you were with your husband. always other couples that were all business talk, how many sales they’d made that year and how much they were getting for their bonuses, it became exhausting over time.

you plated up the chicken florentine, along with some vegetables and sauce, bring the plate from the counter to the dining room table, the dimmed lights almost highlighting your body, you’d changed into a pretty sundress while he’d gone out to the truck, deciding a bikini wasn’t proper dinner attire, not bothering with underwear, if your plan was to go your way. placing the plates on the table, you grabbed a bottle of wine from the vast array of choice from the wine cooler and glasses for you both. you took a seat just as Negan walked back through the door, his eyes rising up as he smelt the food from the table. “fuck me doll, that smells good!” he clapped his hands together as he sat down beside you, starting to eat. “i hope you like it, i didn’t know if you ate meat but…” you trailed off. “no i do, i’m not one of those vegan pussies, don’t worry.” you laughed, his vulgar language causing a stir from within you. you poured out a glass of wine for you each before tucking in yourself. “i’ve got to say, i’ve never had such hospitality from anyone before, i’m always called to clients houses but the most i’m offered is a drink and then they leave me alone to work, this is a nice change.” you smiled, hoping you hadn’t been too much in his hair, you just couldn’t stop yourself, you wanted to know more about the intriguing man. “well, i aim to please. hospitality gets drilled into you as a housewife, it’s sort of all i’m good for.” you said, taking a sip of your wine, feeling like you were softly venting a little due to feeling comfortable in Negan’s company. “i’m sure your good at other things doll, better than the shitheads i normally encounter in this job.”

“well i understand that, i’ve met my husband’s clientele and they aren’t my type of people. always boasting about themselves, not caring about others, i hate it really.” you confessed, knowing you were opening up to much to a man you didn’t really know but you felt at ease, like you could speak freely, unlike when you were in your husbands company. you and Negan had finished eating, you finished the last of your wine, taking your plates to the dishwasher, bending down to place them inside, not remembering you had no panties on, fully on show for Negan and he’d definitely noticed. he’d almost done a double take, seeing your pretty pussy on display, a grin widening on his face as he understood the message. he got up, walking towards you as you raised up again, going to put the cooking utensils in the dishwasher when his large hands wrapped around your waist, you turned to look at him.

“you know doll, i think i should thank you for such a lovely evening. don’t you?” you looked up at him through your eyelashes, your chest heaving up and down with deep breaths as your heart began to beat irregularly at the closeness of such a gorgeous man. “i don’t know… what did you have in mind?” you questioned, your arms coming to meet at the top of his neck, wrapping around to pull him closer as your faces were inches away from each other. “i think it would be fair payment to screw your pretty little brains out, right over this countertop.” you moaned out at his statement, his hand coming to tug at your hair softly, before yanking harder, testing the waters. “i think, you should put your money where your mouth is, Negan.”

he growled, backing you up to the countertop that was behind your back, slightly pushing you against it. he captured your lips in a heated kiss, his hand still pulling at your hair as you whimpered into the kiss, silently begging for his hard touch. no one had ever been so rough with you, husband included. “i know how much you’ve wanted this, don’t think i didn’t notice how you aren’t wearing any panties, you were planning for this, weren’t you doll?” he whispered against your lips, his other hand now going underneath your skirt, dancing on your thighs before he got to your wet heat. “i don’t just offer dinner to anyone that comes to the house, you know.” you whimpered out, feeling his finger tips on your clit, moving small circles on top of it. “i’m hungry for dessert now doll, open those pretty thighs for me sweetheart.” he lifted you up onto the counter, your legs sat on his shoulders as you lifted your dress up enough for your whole pussy on display for Negan. his tongue met your hot skin, licking a stripe up your core, starting slow. your hand came down to meet his hair, gripping tightly around the strands that had fallen loose from his slicked back style. you moaned out, not used to the feeling of having such a skilled man between your legs, savouring every movement you felt him make. so methodical and well thought.

he sucked on your clit harshly, you squeezing his head slightly as your thighs contorted together, trying desperately to grind yourself closer to his tongue, chasing the blissfully sinful feeling that was racing through your body. “fuck-fuck! Negan, i’m not- going to last much longer if you keep doing that! fuck!” you panted and whined at the impending arrival of your orgasm, he chuckled at your confession, pulling away from you to back up. “i want to feel you doll, i want to feel you clench around my dick, turn around for me.” he purred, letting your stumbling legs fall back onto the ground as you turned to face the counter, your nipples standing erected through the thin material of the dress, contrasting against the cold marble.

he dropped his cargo pants, letting them fall down to his ankles, his impressively large piece now hanging out, you felt the bulbous tip playing around on your entrance, running up and down your folds at Negan’s movements. he finally entered you, holding a tight grip on your hips, nails slightly digging into your soft flesh, letting your pussy stretch out to accommodate his girth. he pulls out, and slides back in with little to no hesitation, finding a happy pace between rough and soft. you moan out, one hand coming to wrap around your throat as he moved his pace to more rough. “fuck doll, you fit me so well- taking me so good baby.” you whined out again. “please, please! harder! i need you, Negan- fuck!” he grinned at your begging, leaving your lips like a pretty song. he obliged, upping the ante to absolutely rock you.

“RING! RING!”

you gasped, pulling your head up from the counter to see the light illuminating from the landline phone situated near the window, your husbands name on the caller id.

“fuck, fuck! stop i need to answer him!” you tried to manoeuvre your body to grab the phone that was finger tips away from you, pushing your body closer before negan reached out over you to grab it.

“better answer it before he gets suspicious dollface.” he clicked the green button, passing it down to you, your face bright red with nervousness.

“hey-hey honey.” you breathed out, finding it hard not to make pleasurable sounds while Negan was still fucking you rough, you could barely talk with his hand still grasped around your throat. he showed no mercy.

“i just got to my hotel, did Negan manage to fix the shower?” your husband asked, you allowed a small grin to peak out on your face, thanking god your husband couldn’t see you right now. “yeah, he did a really good job, such a nice guy!” you drabbled on, hoping he wouldn’t ask many more questions, fearing you couldn’t stay quiet for much longer. “that’s great, so i’m going to try and get some sleep before the big meeting tomorrow. just wanted to let you know i got here okay. i love you.” he said, you almost dropped the phone from how rough your stomach was hitting the side of the counter, Negan relishing in the predicament you’d found yourself in. “ok-okay honey. i love you t-too.” you gasped as Negan proceeded to smack your ass hard, the sting catching you off guard, making it harder to find your words for your husband. “are you okay? you don’t sound too well?” you rolled your eyes into the back of your head, wishing he’d just fuck off so you didn’t have the anxiety of having to string sentences together. “yeah i’m fine, think i’m just a bit ill. i’ll l-let you get some sleep. love you. bye.” you quickly got out, pressing the red end call button, slinging the phone off the counter, the object hitting the ground with a smack. “you are such a bastard.” you slightly laughed with another moan. “didn’t want him worrying about his dear wife now did we doll? thank you for the five star review though, i appreciate it.”

the wet sounds still echoed around the room, you could feel yourself getting ever so closer to what you knew would be a world shattering climax. “fuck, i’m so so close, please! fuck!” Negan held you firmer in place, his hips snapping against your behind, his dick filling you up to the brim. “let go doll, come all over my dick.” that was all the permission you needed, you let yourself climax, sobbing in pleasure, waves of pleasure rippling through you, nearly too intense for your body to handle it. you cried out his name, your fingernails digging into your own palms as you circled your hips, riding out your orgasm.

Negan wasn’t too far behind, he couldn’t help but spill inside you, quickly pulling out to finish the rest on your now red glistening ass, from the countless spankings he’d given you. you both almost collapsed, breathless, unable to get your heart rates back to normal for the time being. Negan held you to his chest, your back meeting his torso in a warm embrace, chests heaving. you felt the sticky ropes of his seed on your dress, making it stick to your ass as you licked your lips to regain some moisture back as they’d gone dry from all your moaning and whining. his hands ran up and down your body, coming to play with your breasts over the material.

“fuck doll, do you have any more repairs for me to do? because i would gladly fix every goddamn thing in this house for this again.” you laughed, turning around to look at him, face beat red from the strenuous actions you’d both participated in. you reached behind him and pulled open one of the cabinets behind his head, the wood snapping with the force, taking it off its hinges so it hung off.

“whoops. you might need to take a look at that.”

[kingkatsuki]

Lactation | Bakugou Katsuki x Reader

𝐥𝐚𝐜𝐭𝐚𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧 - 𝐬𝐞𝐱𝐮𝐚𝐥 𝐚𝐫𝐨𝐮𝐬𝐚𝐥 𝐛𝐲 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐢𝐝𝐞𝐚 𝐨𝐟, 𝐯𝐢𝐞𝐰𝐢𝐧𝐠, 𝐨𝐫 𝐩𝐚𝐫𝐭𝐢𝐜𝐢𝐩𝐚𝐭𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐢𝐧 𝐛𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐟𝐞𝐞𝐝𝐢𝐧𝐠.

Kinktober masterlist.

Based on this silly post I made a while back!

Summary: Time alone with Bakugou has been few and far between since the birth of your son, the after affects of pregnancy have you feeling sore and lethargic- But your doting husband is more than willing to help you out.

Pairing: Bakugou Katsuki x f!reader.

Warnings: 18+, mentions of pregnancy, lactation, praise praise praise, breeding, creampie.

Word Count: 2.3k.

“Why does he get to do it?” Bakugou’s chest was pressed firmly against your back as he hovered over you to watch his son feeding before bed.

“Do what?” You hummed softly, leaning into the warmth of your husband as your son latched on.

“Suck on these,” Bakugou palmed your other breast as you whined softly, a subtle ache ebbing through you from how heavy your chest felt full of milk.

“Katsuki,” You shook your head, smiling softly at your husbands childishness, “He’s a baby.”

“And?” He scoffed, holding your hips gently as he caged you between your son and the crib, “I’m just fu- freakin’ saying’ I was here first.”

Bakugou stopped himself from swearing after the side glance you gave him, knowing your husband better than he probably knew himself. A subtle pout etched onto his ageing features, tired eyes staring down at you as he kneaded your sore breast for emphasis. You did feel guilty that you’d been neglecting your husband since childbirth, even though you knew you shouldn’t. Bakugou was the perfect husband and father, reassuring you that you were still the most perfect, beautiful woman in the room even now. But insecurities would often plague your mind, and finding very little time for yourself since your son had arrived into the world meant that these thoughts would continue to fester at the back of your mind.

“Can’t even remember the last time I had these to myself.” Bakugou continued. 

“There’s no way you’re jealous of your son,” You laughed, leaning into his touch as he began to gently sway you from side to side.

“Ain’t my fault he’s got the perfect life,” Bakugou smirked as he pecked your cheek, “What I wouldn’t give to fall asleep sucking on these.”

He gave your other breast a playful squeeze as he raised it towards him before letting it bounce back into place. The wireless maternity bra you were wearing did little to stop the motion as you let out a soft gasp, milk leaking from your nipple and soaking the fabric. You were certain this was the least desirable you’d ever looked to your husband, with baby spittle and milk staining your shirt, messy hair and tired eyes. But Bakugou was gazing at you as though you were holding his world with your bare hands, keeping the moon and stars in the sky as he pressed another soft kiss to your cheek.

“They’re actually really fucking sore,” You whined as you lay your son back in his crib, pressing a gentle kiss to his forehead before standing back up. You didn’t even bother doing your bra back up as your breast continued to leak milk, sighing gently as your husband began pressing soft kisses along the column of your neck.

“Is he suckin’ too hard?” Bakugou nosed your cheek as he watched his son feeding.

“No, they’re just full.” You mumbled, “I feel like I’ve pumped for hours today and it didn’t make a difference because I’m still leaking.”

“Fuck,”

“Katsuki,” You chastised him for his language as he pulled back to give you an incredulous look.

“What? He can’t understand me yet.” Bakugou’s lips curled into a smug gin.

“If his first word is a cuss word I’m never speaking to you again.” You taunted as you turned to face him.

“You could never,” Bakugou teased, pressing a soft kiss to your lips.

“Do you really want to take that chance?” Bakugou pecked another kiss on your lips before nuzzling your cheek, keeping his hand on your hip as he leaned over the crib to press a kiss to his son's forehead.

“Your first word is going to be ‘daddy’ ain’t that right?” He smiled sweetly, pressing a final kiss to the top of his head before standing upright.

“Or mummy,” You smiled softly at your baby boy, breaking off into a soft yawn as you covered your mouth.

“You tired?” Bakugou hummed as you nodded in affirmation.

“He’s been so fussy today, I didn’t get much time to myself.” You mumbled.

“Let me look after you, princess.” He took your hand in his as he led you towards your shared bedroom, the baby monitor in his other hand as he placed it down on your bedside table.

Turning his attention to you as he curled a hand around the curve of your neck, his thumb grazing your jaw as he pressed a gentle kiss to your lips, “Bout time someone looked after you isn’t it, sweetheart?”

“Katsuki,” You gasped as he pulled you down to lay on the soft sheets, the top you were wearing riding up your thighs as you suddenly felt self-conscious about the stains against the fabric from feeding your son and the fact you couldn’t even remember the last time you’d shaved your legs.

It’s silly how shy you feel around your husband over your basic outfit, pulling your pyjama shirt off to leave you in a basic pair of cotton panties and a mismatched nursing bra. Motherhood made it difficult to cater your wardrobe to style over substance, the ache in your lower back had you choosing the most comfortable clothing you owned, but Bakugou thought you’d never looked sexier. The ethereal glow you’d taken on since pregnancy stuck around even now, your body truly a gift from the gods as he felt his cock throbbing with urgency between his thighs. But this moment wasn’t about him, it was all about you. Ignoring the throb as his cock leaked fresh pre against the fabric of his underwear as he leaned forward. Helping to undo the clasp of your basic grey bra as he watched the fabric spill down your shoulders, allowing your breasts to drop naturally as he moaned at the sight of them. How heavy they looked, your nipples darkened and swollen as you gazed up at him shyly.

“Katsuki, don’t stare.” You mumbled, but how could he not? When you were the one that carried his son to term, you were the reason his son was happy and healthy now.

“You’re so pretty,” He cooed softly as he began to press chaste kisses against your collarbone, following a path towards your sternum before nuzzling the valley of your breasts. Warm palms soothed along your abdomen, feeling your tummy where your baby had been for so long, “Tell me if I’m too rough.”

“Please, Kats.” You mumbled, pouty lips and furrowed brows as he leaned in closer.

“It’s been too long since I’ve had these to myself,” He murmured, nuzzling his face between them before moving to suckle on your nipples.

His lips slurp your breast as warm milk begins to flow, the sweet taste of it hitting his tongue as he moans against the soft skin. A large palm reaches up to take the fat of your breast in his hand, kneading gently to tempt more milk from your chest. There’s a part of him that feels wrong, as though he’s stealing milk from his son, but at the same time Bakugou loves every inch of you and he wants to take away the pain you feel when your breasts are heavy and lactating. So he continues swallowing the sweet milk that leaks from your chest as he switches breasts, his tongue swiping along the mess that’s leaked from your nipple against your skin. Groaning against you as he gently wraps his lips around your nipple, cheeks hollowing as his throat bobs. Your hands thread through his messy hair as your nails graze his scalp, brushing through the grown-out hairs of his undercut as you hold him in place while he worships your body.

“So good, Kats.” You murmur, your head writhing against the pillow as he gets another taste of you, the milk sliding down his throat as he groans against your skin.

“You’re so fuckin’ perfect,” He rasps, pulling back to gaze up at you through half-lidded eyes.

Squeezing your breast to watch the milk begin to trickle out of your taut nipple before he leans forward to lap it up. You can feel the heat beginning to rise between your thighs, the sudden realisation sweeping over you that you can’t remember the last time you’ve had the time or energy to be intimate with your husband.

His hardness presses against your crotch as he shows how desperately he wants you, urgency brewing inside him as his fingers slip beneath the hem of your panties. Dragging his fingers through your slick to feel how wet you are for him as he sucks in a breath. Two of his fingers slip into your wet, tight heat and suddenly he’s reminded of how gorgeous you feel wrapped around his cock. His fingers curl inside you as he continues to lap at your breasts, his tongue circling your swollen nipple as he tastes more of your milk in his throat. A slight lilt to your voice as you beg him for more, a keen sense of urgency to your tone as you try to tug at his sweats. Desperate to feel him deep inside you, to satiate the ache swirling between your thighs.

Bakugou pulls his fingers from your sex as you whine at the loss of contact. Moving to pull his sweats down just enough to free his aching cock before he wraps the same fingers coated in your slick around his girth. Giving himself a teasing pump as his leaking tip nudges your clothed sex.

There’s an innate sense of urgency as he curls his fingers into the hem of your cotton panties to tug them down your thighs, leaving them hanging around one of your ankles as he lines himself up with your sex.

“Please, Katsuki.” You slur, “I want you so bad.”

He presses the bulging tip of his cock against your tight hole as he presses his weight forward, feeling you slowly begin to swallow the length of him. Eagerly sucking him in as he cants his hips forward, so wet and pliant that he manages to bottom out with minimal resistance as he stills inside you for a moment to cherish the sensation of your walls squeezing his cock once again.

“Fuck,” He chokes out as your breasts continue leaking milk, the sight alone has his cock throbbing inside you as he sets a languid pace. Vermillion eyes meet your own as he rests his forehead on top of yours for a moment, surrounding himself with you, “Always feel so goddamn perfect, like you were made for me.”

Bakugou licks his lips as he watches your breasts continue to leak for him, the creamy milk a contrast against your skin as he hovers over you, slurping up the spilt milk as it’s still warm on his tongue. He knows he won’t last long, not with all the pent-up frustration and the saccharine taste of your milk on his tongue.

“You make me wanna fuck another baby into you, have these permanently filled with milk,” He groans around your nipple, breath coming out in heavy pants as he feels you wrap your thighs around his hips, angling his cock to have him delving deeper inside your wet, slick heat.

“Katsuki,” You gasped, the familiar sensation already swirling in your pelvis.

“Stuff you so full of my cum you’ll always be round and plump with my child.” He continued, pressing open-mouthed kisses against the swell of your breast, “You’re so pretty like this, sweetheart. So perfect.”

“Kats, I’m gonna—” You mumbled, feeling the coil inside you dangerously close to snapping as he alternated breasts, easing the tension in your chest as he released more of your milk from inside you. The pain dissipated as it was replaced with white, hot pleasure as you began to clamp down around him.

“You’re so pretty, so perfect, taste so good—” Bakugou continued to slur his words as his nose nudged your breast,

Feeling yourself slowly falling into your bliss as

“Come on, sweetheart. I’ve got you.” He sucks your nipple hard, causing you to throb around him as you feel yourself tumble into your bliss. Your walls flutter around his cock as he continues his messy pace, groaning at the way your body feels clamping around him, trying to milk him of his release.

Shamelessly searching for his own release as his balls start to tighten, the thought of fucking another child into you has his pelvis throbbing as he imagines you all round and full with his release. Cumming deep inside you with a grunt of your name as he spills hot ropes of cum inside your fluttering walls. Leaning on his forearms as he rides out his climax, fucking his release deep inside you as he imagines you pretty and round with another child. His thrusts slow to a gentle rut as he rests his weight on top of you for a moment, looking down at you with complete adoration as you gaze up at him towing tired eyes.

Bakugou groans when he pulls out of your slick heat, his eyes immediately diving between your thighs to watch the thick, creamy mixture of his release begin to dribble from your stretched hole. Fingers delving between your thighs to push it back inside you as he thinks about giving you another child, if you want— picturing keeping you like this for as long as possible.

“Do you feel better, sweetheart?” His nose nuzzles between the valley of your breasts as you both enjoy the quiet moment alone together, pressing soft kisses against the sensitive mounds.

“Much,” You whisper as Bakugou flicks one of your nipples playfully.

“Finally got my spot back,” He grins up at you from between your breasts as he nips at the soft skin.

“Until your son wakes up,” You smile softly, already feeling yourself succumbing to slumber.

“Better make the most of it then.” Bakugou rumbles as he wraps his lips back around one of your nipples.

[msmk11]

Trou Noir

Regulus Black x gn!reader

WC: 665

CW: Angst; hurt no comfort; Regulus’ death; mention of bile (no graphic description just the word)

Summary: Mourning your husband.

Day 12 of mk’s mad dash

A tragic romance. That’s what people liked to call it.

“Right person, wrong time” they would sigh.

And you hated it. Maybe it was true. No, it was true. But they had no right to say it. They were the same ones who had silently judged from afar- who’d scoffed and claimed that you two wouldn’t last.

They had no right to mourn.

You remained seated stiffly in a hard folding chair as everyone rose to pay their respects to you and your brother-in-law.

“I’m so sorry for your loss, he will be missed,” they all said, the words piercing your heart bit by bit until it shattered everywhere.

You tried to keep from scoffing. Most of the people at this funeral ignored your husband on the daily. When he needed their help the most, they turned a blind eye. They scolded him and called him a coward, an outcast, a villain. They couldn’t miss him when he was never a part of their lives in the first place. They couldn’t long for Regulus- someone they never had.

But despite the sickening insincerity that forced bile up your throat, you trudged onward with a stony expression. It’s what he always did in the face of discomfort, anyhow.

Your brave, beautiful Regulus.

Finally, after what felt like days, the few remaining guests filed out of the small church in which the funeral was held. Now there was only you and Sirius left.

Sirius.

You never much liked the older Black boy- especially after he abandoned his brother. But Regulus never stopped loving him. Even when he tried to hide it, you always knew that your husband longed for the relationship he once had with Sirius. His brother was everything to him, even when he’d been discarded by him like trash. So, though you had no empathy for the older Black, when the fiery Gryffindor broke down into sobs, you knew what Regulus would’ve wanted you to do. Ever so carefully, you reluctantly placed a hand on his shoulder.

Sirius turned towards you with tears streaming down his face, “I- I’m so sorry. I should’ve been there for him. He would’ve still been alive had I not left him behind.”

He began to cry even harder.

“No, you shouldn’t have left him behind” you agreed, “But Regulus forgave you. He always wanted you to be happy and safe, even if it meant he wasn’t.”

“You’re probably just saying that,” Sirius sniffled.

“Black,” you began, “I’ve never been fond of you and I've been pretty honest about it. Never have I once put something nicely to avoid hurting your feelings. I sure as hell am not starting now. I’m telling the truth.”

The man nodded with a small smile.

A sharp pain shot through your heart.

Who would’ve thought the two brothers shared a smile?

Refusing to cry in front of Sirius, you stood and began to gather your things, using your flutter of motion as a chance to hide from the man before you.

“Well, I need to be heading out, Black. I’m very tired. My condolences,” you mumbled.

As you turned to leave, he protested, “Wait! Can- can we meet up sometime? To talk about Reggie? I- I want to know more about him. Maybe then I can find a way to forgive myself and move on. Maybe you can move on too.”

You hesitated.

What right did Sirius have to ask you such a question after all this time. What was he owed after neglecting your husband for years? Why should you say yes?

Maybe it was because misery loved company, or because you were drawn to anything related to your husband, but you finally sighed in agreement.

“Fine. But don’t call him Reggie. You lost that privilege long ago. Meet me at the Leaky Cauldron on Friday- 6:00.”

You and Sirius would never be the best of friends. But perhaps, through conversation, you would both heal from the Regulus-sized hole in your hearts.

[jinkicake]

Behind Closed Doors

The demons and how they would love you in secret. 

Barbatos, Lucifer, Mammon, Satan x Reader

A/N: All week I’ve been trying to write a Luci hate fic but, I can’t finish long works to save my own life soooooooo.... I wrote this instead :-) maybe one day I’ll post the luci fic... maybe not!

WC - 2.2k

~~~

Barbatos plays his role in a secret relationship a little too well. Much to his dismay, he neglects you most nights anyway due to his job and the tasks that come with it so the only time you spend together is those that are in passing. When Barbatos comes to drop something off, he will spend a few moments holding your hand or running his fingers along your jaw. He’s really good at keeping things hush-hush and could probably do so for the rest of your lives. 

“How are you, my dear?” 

You’ll never understand how Barbatos finds you in the most hidden places, you could be in a closet underneath the stairs in an old hallway and he could still find you in no time. Today, however, you’re in a far corner of the library. Underneath one of the large open windows, you’re tucked behind a curtain in a comfy chair with some old book in your lap. The book is not open as you decide to play on your phone instead. 

With Barbatos now here, you decide that you won’t need the mobile device or the book for entertainment. 

“I’m alright, how are you?” You sigh into the demon’s touch as he cups your cheek. The butler stands tall beside you as his gloves tickle your skin. 

“Don’t worry about me,” He calls you to sleep as his thumb runs over your cheekbone, gently forcing you to relax with his presence and a bit of magic. “how can I make your day better?” Barbatos would do anything to see that your wants and desires are settled. 

“By resting with me,” Barbatos frowns at your wish and brushes his fingers against the underside of your jaw. 

“You know that I hate to deny you of anything,” He murmurs while keeping his eyes on the tips of his gloved fingers, the demon watches intensely as he runs the digits along your throat. You tilt your head back slightly, closing your eyes and that causes the demon’s breath to hitch. “I can’t give myself to you just yet.” Barbatos leans forward to place a kiss on the corner of your lips. It’s a peck that lingers as he pauses for a few moments before pulling away and pushing the hair from your face. “Please be patient until tonight,” 

At the sound of a creak against the wooden floors, the warm touch against your neck is gone and so is the demon. Barbatos is gone before you can even realize it and you sigh out into the air. 

“(Y/N)! What a surprise to see you here!” Diavolo exclaims as he comes across you, his arms are held open wide with two heavy books resting in his hands. “Small world, huh?”

“Lord Diavolo, what are you doing here?” You try to keep your heartbeat under control and your face neutral like you weren’t just partaking in a secret rendezvous with his dear friend. 

“Well, I had to find a few books for a dinner I’m hosting this weekend. You’re coming along with Lucifer, correct?” Oh, he must be talking about what Lucifer corned you this morning for. You can never turn down a request from the future king nor can you disappoint Lucifer so you’re often at his castle. 

Plus you get to see your boyfriend and that is something you can never reject. 

“That reminds me, (Y/N), have you seen Barbatos recently? I can’t seem to find him anywhere and he’s always behind me-”

Beloved Lucifer deep down enjoys a secret relationship. He loves having to sneak around with you and the tension that arises from it all. There’s nothing more that he enjoys than stealing a kiss when no one else is looking or meeting you late in your room when everyone else is asleep. He’s a private demon and likes to keep all of his affairs away from the public, you’re his mortal treasure after all and he is not going to ever share you. 

“Let’s head to my room! I finally got my hands on a new limited edition-”

“Huh? I thought we were going to the casino.”

“Isn’t it time for dinner?”

Past the nonstop chatter of Levi, Mammon, and Beel, you find yourself trailing slightly behind the group. The afternoon is still young and bright as your classes have just gotten out for the day and you’re more than ready to unwind and go relax. 

Perhaps you’ll jump from social media app to social media app to let your mind completely unravel.

Or maybe you’ll go for a walk and listen to the new album from-

In the midst of your thoughts, a hand grabs your wrist and yanks you into a hidden doorway. A screech leaves your lips but the noise is quickly muffled by the demon’s other hand. 

“(Y/N)?” Mammon’s voice calls out to you, drowned out from the other side of the door and it is followed by a parroted call of your name from his brothers. 

“Maybe they went to the kitchen.” Beel murmurs and you roll your eyes at the sound of his retreading footsteps. 

“Maybe they headed to my room early!” Levi is quick to leave right after Beel and only Mammon waits a few moments behind to look things over. 

“Ah, stupid human.”

The touch from before comes back stronger now as large palms rest over your shoulders. You recognize this comforting feeling anywhere and lean back into Lucifer’s chest. 

“Hello, my love,” Lucifer quietly coos into your ear, squeezing you in his hold for extra emphasis. In his touch, you nearly melt. “how was your day?” “Tiring,” You huff and let your eyes flutter shut under exhaustion. 

“Mhm, would you like to come with me?” At Lucifer’s question, you can’t help but peek an eye open to look back at him. The kind smile resting on his face has you nodding in agreement before you can even think about it. 

Lucifer leans forward before dipping his head and lowering his face, he ghosts his lips over yours as a point to build anticipation before gently kissing you. For a moment, all that exists are his lips pressed against yours. You just can’t help but kiss back, and at the pressure you enforce, Lucifer cups your jaw. He holds you still while working his lips passionately, pecking you a few times before pulling away just to tease you.

The demon laughs at your pout, he laughs. 

Lucifer turns you around in his arms before bending over to kiss you once again. He presses you up against the closet door with one of his hands resting firmly around your waist while the other braces his weight against the door. 

He could spend all afternoon kissing you, loving you.

“I’m taking you to my room,” Lucifer murmurs against your lips then briefly licks at the corner of your mouth. You can’t think of any reason why you would ever deny him of this. “tonight will be for you.”

Mammon is greedy. He wants nothing more than to brag about you and show off his relationship to every single person that will listen. Considering Mammon, he would even tell people that wouldn’t listen. It’s no surprise that he grows a little antsy about your ‘secret relationship’ and a bit insecure in himself. Why don’t you want to share him with the world too? Isn’t he as special to you as you are to him?

“Belphie thinks I’m seeing you,” You randomly tell Mammon one afternoon, you’re relaxing on his bed with your upper half hanging off the mattress. The demon sitting beside you on the floor scoffs in response. “it has something to do with the fact that I’m always in your room.” You push yourself up and move to lay on your stomach, you’re now staring at Mammon with your chin resting on the tops of your hands. “Are we being too obvious?”

“Eh? Who cares,” Mammon’s half-assed response does not please you in the slightest, nor does his habit of scrolling through his phone while talking to you. “you’re the one who wants to keep this hidden.”

“With good reason!” You argue back and it’s passionate enough that Mammon glances over his shoulder back at you for a split second. The demon shakes his head in annoyance before looking back at his screen. “It’s only for a bit longer-”

“You’ve been saying that for three months,” The dejection in his voice would have been a lot clearly had you been facing him head-on. You can’t help but sigh. “why can’t we tell anyone?”

“Maybe because you’re a demon and I’m a human,” As you start to poke his cheek, Mammon swats at your hand. 

“So?” He doesn’t really get you, it’s not like there are any rules saying that the two of you can’t date. 

“And I just like keeping you to myself, I don’t want to share.” Mammon knows you are trying to distract him with your touch, it’s the only reason you’re acting so clingy. He tries to remain as stiff as possible when you wrap your arms around his shoulders but, Mammon can only fake irritation towards you for so long. With a sigh, he falls relaxes against you and tilts his head back to rest on the top of his bed. 

“One day I’m going to tell everyone,” He pouts, eyes casted elsewhere in the room. Mammon can’t look at you right now, not with the blush on his face. “they’re all going to know.” 

You have to tease him.

“Know what?” Mammon short circuits at your question, he glances at you through his slow blinks before staring back up at the ceiling. 

“That we’re- That I-” He fumbles over his words, choking on them as he tries to express himself verbally in any way possible.

“That you?” You push, cooing against his jaw as you press your cheek against his own. The hold you have him in tightens and you can’t help hugging your squishy demon. “That you like me?”

“I-I would never say something so lame,” Mammon sputters and tries to hide his bright red blush beneath his white hair. 

“That you love me?” At this, Mammon pauses and brings his hands up to hold your own. 

“Something like that,”

Despite being a rather reserved person, Satan would not like to be hidden in the shadows. At first, he may have enjoyed the idea of a secret relationship. He likes the mystery that comes with it, almost as if it was plucked straight out of one of his favorite books. But, over time, he will begin to dislike it. The demon doesn’t care who knows about your relationship and, much like his older brother, would love to parade your beauty for the worlds to see. 

“Must you keep me hidden away as if I’m some dirty secret?” Satan scowls at you despite your best efforts to push him into your bathroom. Everything was fine between the two of you until somebody knocked at your door. 

“I’m sorry, it’ll be quick, I promise!” Your whispered promises don’t make the demon feel any better as he rolls his eyes and hides behind your shower curtain. Mentally, you pray that Satan did a good job at hiding himself before you open your door and greet Lucifer with a smile. 

“(Y/N),” The older demon dips his head slightly and offers you a small smile. 

“Lucifer, is something wrong?” You nervously grip the edge of your door and hide half of your body behind the large piece of wood. The quicker this interaction ends, the better. 

“I just needed to make sure you are aware of the schedule change for tomorrow. We are meeting for the council meeting at one instead of three.”

Satan contemplates turning on the shower to drown himself so then he won’t have to hear any more of Lucifer’s voice. It’s bad enough that you’re shutting him out, he doesn’t need to be tortured by the other demon too. 

“Lord Diavolo texted me about it, but, thank you for reminding me.” The fourth-born can see the sweet smile on your face and the kindness that you give to everyone, it makes him want to scoff. Why must you be polite to Lucifer? Has he taught you nothing?

“You’re welcome. That is all-” Lucifer turns to head out, literally on his heel but then he pauses at the clattering noise coming from inside your room. “Is everything alright in your bathroom?”

“Oh!” You protectively stand in front of your doorway to prevent the demon from exploring your room further. “Everything is fine, why?” Until you can push Lucifer out, you plan to feign ignorance. 

“Rumor has it that Levi’s rats got out so just keep your eye out for them. Please do not harm the creatures.” Lucifer looks you over once more, eyes narrowed in suspicion before he ultimately turns away. He begins to leave after nodding goodbye to you and you think that you might just be in the clear. But, the demon stops and glances at you over his shoulder. His voice is now extremely low. “Do tell Satan ‘hello’ for me.”

Your mind is blank as you watch the demon walk away, and as you close your bedroom door and lock it, even as you pull Satan out from your bathroom and then head straight for your bed.

“He’s got a seventh sense or something,” You can’t help but part your lips in shock, Lucifer truly is something. “besides, why did you knock something over?!”

“It just slipped,” Satan shrugs but, with the charming smile on his face, you know the act was 100% intentional. “oh, don’t get upset with me, (Y/N). I’ll make it up to you.”

[sangwooooh]

Why won’t you speak?

“Even dead they ignore you, huh?”

This is the second part. If you want to read the first part, the link is at the end. Sorry, it took me a while :,)

Warnings: character death, mental issues, grief, child neglect (?), disability (m/n is using crutches because of the injury he got from an accident in his younger years). Canon divergence … ? Regardless, I’ve changed things. also, the addition of Roy Harper ;)

“Close your eyes for a second, won’t you?”

M/n chuckles, “What do you want, Roy? Don’t we have anything better to do?” He closes his eyes nonetheless. Wouldn’t hear him say it out loud, but M/n will probably do anything if it was Roy who asked. That’s how the two of them are.

“Just…,” there is some shuffling. What is that man doing? “Just bear with me for a sec.”

“Fine, I’ll indulge you. But it better be worth it.” M/n added as more of a joke at the end. It wouldn’t even matter if it was worth it or not, if Roy considered it so.

Roy sighs and touches M/n’s shoulder, slides his fingers down to his hand and holds it, squeezing it softly. Then the touch is no more and M/n is left feeling cold.

“You can open your eyes now.”

“I’m married now, by the way.”

“What?!” Jason stands up in shock. He clears his throat because some heads turn his way. They are in a public place, after all. A dingy bar, but still public.

“Yeah. Who would’ve thought, huh?” Roy plays with a small lock of his hair as Jason sits back down. 

“It’s… something.” Jason coughs.

Roy pushes his friend slightly, no ill intention there. Jason laughs that laugh of his that leaves Roy stunned. An almost fragile smile graces the redhead’s lips and he can’t help the sigh that escapes him.

Jason swirls his drink, a low quality beer that doesn’t even get the job done, but it’s cheap and it’s alcohol so whatever, “She’s one lucky girl.” He looks straight at the queasy liquid and feels a lump forming in his throat. A tiny one, the one he gets from time to time, at the thought of what his life could have been. He can’t even comfort himself with the idea of another Jason in another world living happily in his stead. He doesn’t believe he is that lucky. Entertaining the thought only brings something close to nostalgia for what has never happened and… well, how would he even begin to explain?

He gets another push from Roy, one that pulls him out of his thoughts. “Hey!” Jason exclaims.

“Look at you assuming!” Roy ruffles Jason’s hair.

Jason pushes Roy’s hands away from his freshly washed hair.

“Who ever said they were a girl? I’ll let you know that I’m the lucky one to have my hubby.” Roy is presenting the most disgustingly precious heart eyes, almost making Jason visibly shudder.

Once Jason gets Roy off him he fixes his hair (not really doing much, but whatever) and downs the rest of his drink. He leaves some money on the table, nodding to the bartender (poor guy was trying to wipe away some stain that was probably never gonna leave that sorry excuse of a bar), who nods back.

“Let’s get out of this shithole.”

“Uh-Uh, okay.” Roy quickly downs his apple juice, cringes, then leaves his own payment on the greasy table.

As they walk down the dark streets of Gotham, Jason looks at the smogged up sky, can almost see the clear moon if he squints.

“How’s he like?”

Roy sighs dreamily, “My life’s been pretty shitty after you ‘died’, but he helped me get better. He is… I wouldn’t know how to explain it, but there is no need for you to worry, Jason. I’m finally at peace, I would say.” Jason’s friend ends on a sadder note and Jason thinks that, perhaps, he thinks of it too, what could have been.

Jason clasps a hand on Roy’s strong arm, “You’re good. That’s what I need to know.” He smiles at the redhead who looks close to genuinely crying. Tears gather in the no longer child’s eyes too, but Jason doesn’t let them fall. Memories are blurred, but some spring up now that he looks Roy in the eyes. If they hug it out and some tears slip, it’s for only them to know.

M/n cooks breakfast for Bruce, Tim and Alfred, as he does every now and again, whenever he stops by the manor. Roy doesn’t complain and, of course, he joins, aiding his hubby with the help he needs. When Bruce tries to keep him at the door, Roy can always use the I’m part of the family now argument.

Speaking of Roy, he’s been behaving strange as of lately. He comes in late and he leaves at the first sign of daylight. If he were anybody else, M/n would suspect cheating or growing back into old habits, but that simply isn’t his Roy. M/n is pretty sure his husband will say something pretty soon. He always slips up. Can’t keep a secret from M/n to save his life.

M/n picks up the plates, balancing them on one hand, the other holding onto his crutch for dear life, and takes six instead of five. He stares for the longest time at the extra plate, then places it back. With the five plates in hand, he heads towards the enormous table (it always seemed bigger than the world when he was younger, just like Bruce), stumbling here and there on the carpet (it’s not that the carpet isn’t neatly placed every time, courtesy of Alfred, but handling everything with one hand is harder than you’d think), and sets it nicely. He has developed a sense of dexterity around the house, even with the setbacks. Alfred smiles proudly at him as the older man brings the pancakes from the kitchen.

“I’ll go get the honey.” Dick and Alfred used to look at M/n with concern when he first started eating honey with his pancakes. After all, Jason expressly used to talk about how it was ‘ultimately the only way he likes pancakes’.

“It’s alright, I got it.” Bruce appears from the kitchen as well, making M/n jump.

“Don’t just sneak up on people, dad!”

Bruce scratches the back of his head, “Sorry, can’t really turn the stealth mode off.” Tim snorts from his spot at the table. The brooding bat is trying to be better, M/n knows this. He can’t help, however, the lingering loneliness he feels whenever he looks at his father too long. It’s not something he can control, really. But dark thoughts must be kept at bay.

Roy makes his way into the room, hands wet from washing them. He walks to M/n and places a kiss on his husband’s cheek, using the diversion as a chance to wipe his wet hands on M/n’s hoodie (that, actually, belongs to Roy). M/n gasps in faux shock, but Roy only laughs and pecks him on the lips.

“Love you.” Roy says cheerily, loud enough for the whole room to hear. Bruce clears his throat, eyes narrowed, hand squeezing on the honey jar.

“Careful not to break that, Master Bruce.” Alfred speaks with an amused glint in his eyes. “How about we all get to the table? Master M/n has made us quite the nice breakfast.” Alfred ushers all of them in their respective places. All on one side of the big table. Bruce at the head, to his right Tim, to his left M/n. Roy is to the left of M/n, and Alfred to the right of Tim. M/n doesn’t escape the images flashing before his mind’s eye: a boy in front of him, not Tim, and he talks like he has the whole world to fill with words and not nearly enough time. Right after, M/n couldn’t bare to see the spot empty and when, two years later, Tim came and filled it himself, M/n couldn’t bear to see it filled by somebody else. M/n swallows hard, yet the lump is still there, pressure in his chest growing steadily. It happens from time to time, the feeling of the world falling around him, the feeling of helplessness from within in regards to the falling. Tears sting his eyes, yet he doesn’t let them fall. He tries to take a bite of his pancakes, oozed in honey, but they get stuck in his throat, choking him. He bends forward for the water glass in front of him. The cold liquid clears his throat and eases the constricted passage.

“Do you ever think of going back?”

Jason stares at the resting figure belonging to a life so far away. The sun is too bright and the flowers pale in comparison to the now man laying in the grass. The manor is as imposing as Jason remembers it — as if through a dream. It’s unreal. And so is the sight of his brother. He looks almost… peaceful. It makes Jason’s stomach churn and twist with he doesn’t know what. Maybe it’s pain or some itch he can’t scratch that goes as deep as his soul. Or maybe it’s longing? His hands shake (they always do, like what the fuck? can’t he just do something without thinking he’s going to fucking burst? get destroyed more than he already is? what even is his fucking life. it’s not even a question anymore. there is no life left. there is nothing. he is nothing. just a pile of bones covered in flesh that should’ve long rotten to dust) and he feels too little on the outside, too much on the inside. He wants to fucking scream! He wants to yell to RAGE AT THE WORLD AND AT THE NEANT and he wants to whisper about everything (about nothing at all) and he wants to have a vanishing act, finally catch up with his end. That is his brother! His brother? Ever since he was able to remember anything at all about his old life, M/n has been there, nagging and pocking and there always there (GOD IF YOU ARE REAL make his un-life make some sort of sense), being the brother he had never been seen as. Conversations that could have been. Conversations that never will be. Jason’s mind is a scrambled mess of scorched and festered brain. He can’t make up half the things he thinks. But, somehow, M/n shines through and it hurts.

He hasn’t seen his home in what feels like an eternity. He has been, in fact, putting it off. It doesn’t even feel like home, just a memory slowly melting into a void in his mind. It’s no lie that Jason half expect his brain to drip out of his ears in his sleep at some point.

“It’s useless, pathetic even, to think of something I can never have. So, yes. I do. I am, in fact, quite useless and pathetic.”

M/n doesn’t notice anything wrong at first, nothing out of common or eye catching. In fact, he would say he doesn’t feel as much of the pressure as he usually does. The world is so big and, really, today it feels like he might be in it too. And it doesn’t occur to him in this moment (perhaps it is that M/n stops it from occurring) that he hasn’t been in it for far too long for that to be true.

Tears don’t—tears don’t exist. They are not real as they fall down his cheeks and he moves his arm to try and stop them. He tries to keep the raptures of his soul from reaping further, he really tries. You have to believe him. M/n really tries to see the world as it is. He just can’t stop himself from seeing it as it should be.

Because he should be here too, seeing the flowers bloom and the sun shining just right, happy and God without those lifeless eyes he sees in his dreams every night (yet in some of his dreams they are so full of life it’s overwhelming; in those dreams Jason is back and he is laughing again and M/n apologizes for everything and things are good; reality often disappoints).

He doesn’t notice the figure creeping up on him, not with his trembling fingers rubbing at his eyes as he slowly and rustily sits up on the grass.

“Get it together, M/n. It’s been over for too long, there is no going back.” M/n sighs his tears away, eventually wiping them with his shirt.

It’s too quite in the garden, even with the occasional chirping of the birds or the buzzing of the busy bees, thus he hears the voice well enough to know it’s not the wind.

“What’s been over?”

M/n’ head snaps up so fast he gets a bit dizzy. The sun casts the man in front of his eyes in a gentle light, and he is so tall as he approaches that he casts M/n in a slight shadow. M/n stares at the man, confused. How did he get here?

“E-Excuse me…?” M/n squints up at the man and can barely distinguish some of his features. Dark hair with a white streak that softens his face. “You’re not supposed to be here.”

The man… smiles?

“Yeah… I’m not.” There is a certain nuance to his voice, a note of… sadness.

M/n doesn’t no why, but he feels warm in the presence of this person, and it’s not just the sun, “Do I know you?” M/n asks before he can stop himself.

M/n have the chance to say anything more as the man slowly crouches to his eye level, a cace illuminated in the sun, blue eyes with specs of green.

It’s immediate, instant and shattering— the recognition. It doesn’t take anything more than looking into those eyes, the eyes he sees in his sleep, the eyes that haunt the corners of his mind and hide in the shadow of every memory.

M/n makes a sharp intake of breath, involuntary and too sudden. He doesn’t what he is doing, his actions uncontrolled. He raises his hands to the cheeks of the man in front of him, the man who seems as stuck in place as M/n. M/n rubs softly at the skin, not sure if it belongs to the physical world.

“…Jason?” His voice barely reaches a whisper, quite to his own ears. He smiles through the stinging in his eyes, then shakes his head, “No… this is my dream… always my dream.”

There is conflict in his Jason’s eyes, something M/n can’t figure out, something he’ll never know.

It is a dream because reality is never this kind. He spends moments staring at his Jason’s features, taking them in, admiring the handsome face that could have been if the little boy from back then had been give a chance. When M/n speaks again, he’s already lived a thousand realities in his mind.

“Why do I wake up every time? It’s always better here, with you, than back there where everybody expects me to be real…” A lone tear drips down M/n’s cheek. “You are always quiet in my dreams. So strange…”

“What’s been over?” His Jason repeats, slightly startling him, and he looks at M/n with the same lack of resolve M/n feels. His Jason looks as close to the end as M/n feels. His Jason looks like a requiem to M/n’s final dream of life.

“I always try to tell you, but I never quite get the chance… How,” He looks deep into the apparition’s eyes, the windows to his Jason’s soul, “How much I regret not listening to you.”

His Jason tenses under his hands. His eyes look conflicted again, shadowed by feelings M/n can hardly recognize as a reflection of his own soul. The man brings his hands up to M/n’s own and takes them away from his cheeks, envelops them in the soft skin that feels too real.

“You just wanted me to listen to you, to hear you, right?” M/n tries to keep his smile on his face, but his muscles are heavy with grief and it’s too hard, “I couldn’t see beyond the thought that you were there to replace me because I was defected.” He slips one of his hands from his Jason’s. M/n place it at the back of the man’s neck, running his fingers through the fluffy hair there. His Jason latches his now free hand to M/n’s forearm, holding it tight.

“I miss you.”

Tears gather in Jason’s eyes and his lower lip trembles. He hasn’t cried in so long and, so sudden, he cries twice in a week. He tries to keep it in by biting his lower lip, but the sob, however muffled, still escapes the confines of his soul.

He wants to scream ‘I’m real! I’m here, stop crying, please! You are my brother, even though I thought you’ve hated me when I was alive!’ But he can’t bring himself to talk, he can’t bring himself to say anything as more quiet sobs escape his bitten lips.

“You feels so real…” M/n looks up at him with bigger eyes than the world, with an inner peace one would only have in the happiest of dreams, pain seeping in at the edges. Is this a dream? It might be a dream. Jason always thinks he’ll wake up to stare at the inside of a coffin, six feet under. “But you always feel real. You always feel so real, and I always wish I weren’t. Maybe if I weren’t, you’d still be here.” A sob finally escapes his brother’s lips as well, pain winning over. “Maybe, then, everything would be alright again… You know, for the longest time dad couldn’t even look me in the eyes. You meant the world to him, you still do.”

Jason lets go of his lower lip and lets the sobs free, not able to hold back anymore. He feels like a child again. He didn’t get to be a child, didn’t get to cry and to be held and he feels rage because he wants it, he wants it so bad.

Jason wants to have the warmth of his childhood, not just some half assed memories of good for nothing parents who left him and closer memories—a big brother who has the biggest smile, another brother who looks at him like his world is smaller just for Jason’s existence (not knowing that, to Jason, M/n was the one who made the world bigger), a butler who always knows what to say and a father who gives him something his real parents could never.

All the rage he felt, all the rage he kept inside himself for years after being brought back to a world that he no longer belonged in was being brought forth and he felt like a child. His dad never avenged him, his killer is still out there, but how can he hate the man that loved him so much Jason felt like the whole world was his? How can he possibly understand what that man thought and felt? His brother, whom Jason always thought hated him with everything in his soul, is here in front of him, talking about Jason like Jason is M/n’s entire world, like he wishes he was dead instead.

Why did Jason die? Why did Jason have to die?

The little boy in him, the little boy that cries and cries and hasn’t stopped crying, needs Jason to let go of his rage. But how can he do that? How could he ever do that?

Jason looks down towards M/n’s hand that is still in his grasp and squeezes it to his cheek as Jason leans forward to M/n’s chest. He falls to the ground and, even with his body being larger than his brother’s, he feels so small and on the verge breaking.

“Why did I die?” M/n frees his arms and wraps them around Jason’s shivering form. “Why did I have to die?” Jason closes his eyes and feels the warmth of his brother’s body. His body is rotting around him and the world doesn’t feel real, but the brother who had never wanted him feels the realest anyone ever has.

Jason realizes M/n is shaking as well. “I don’t know. I’m sorry it had to be you,” M/n squeezes Jason tighter, leaning into him as if wanting to keep him away from the world. “I’m sorry. I’m sorry it was you.”

Why is M/n talking like Jason isn’t real? This is real life, right? If this is a dream and Jason has to wake up again after this, he doesn’t think he’ll live. He won’t make it.

“I’m real, M/n, please believe me, I’m real” Jason rubs his face into M/n’s shirt, staining it even more with his tears, “I’m real, I’m real, please I’m real” Jason repeats it like a prayer, he is praying to the God that has abandoned him, praying because he wants it so badly to be real. Because he doesn’t feel real. Not anymore.

“I’m scared that soon there might be nothing left for you to miss.”

@tkiesai

Part 1:

[enmmyheavenscg]

GREETINGS !

Hello everyone, it’s been a while, no?

I’m sorry for the inactivity, but I have not been in the best mental state im afraid.

TW FOR SUI MENTION, CHILD ABUSE [neglect, physical & emotional] , SH, HOSPITALIZATION, HEART ATTACKS & INCEST

Now through out the entire month of June, my mental health has gone downhill. I have shared this a couple times, yes but- I have not shared the full story.

On June 1st, my brother had recently gotten out of the hospital, during the time I had been living with my grandma. My grandma is absolutely horrible- she does nothing but make comments about me aswell as make me uncomfortable.

when my brother had gotten out and I was recently back home, all the attention had been on him- usually, I wouldn’t care and that would make the most sense, Yes but- to completely ignore your own kid- me. It’s the whole family that’s been ignoring me overall, which I don’t even care, it’s been like this my entire life and I hate it.

My mothers behavior hadn’t changed, she had even gotten worst, she’d raise her hand and hurt me- she does not understand how her actions affect me, and after she physically lays her hands on me she acts as if nothing had happened and that everything was normal. Her comments about my body, my health- my everything affects me and she finds it oh so ‘hilarious’ I’ve tried to tell her how I feel and she’s laughed in my face before- I hate this family in everyway.

The worst thing that had happened was when I happened to have a heart attack in call- and she brushed it off like it was nothing- we had also just recently been driving back from the hospital because my brothers stomach was hurting- wow because a kid having a heart attack is less important than a stomach ache-

I don’t mean to be selfish im just ? Angry with her, Angry with the whole world. My body is always in pain yet nobody could ever care, im always suffering . I’ve tried to end it 3 separate times and failed, I’ve relapsed multiple times aswell. I’ve been little so often it makes me feel guilty, Yes I know I’ve said before- ‘there is no such thing as being too little’ but I genuinely want to be big for once- I’ve had to mask being big multiple times and I just hate it, i wanna be a little kid. I want my childhood back. I want my old happy self back, nobody understands me- I don’t even understand me, dude.

June 25th- my brother had been in the hospital again during this time. He’s currently on the day Im writing this (July 10th) out of the hospital! He had been since July 1st. He had been in the hospital for a while during this time but- on June 25th I was heading to my cousins house, Finally. As much as I had fun there I was also extremely

Like- EXTREMELY uncomfortable.

My cousins were there- my cousin who forced me into a relationship with her, made me do uncomfortable things with her was there.. and so was my younger cousin, my younger cousin who would touch me in places I asked her not to, unlike the older cousin, I had genuinely told my mother that my cousin was touching me in places I didn’t want. My mother didn’t believe me, she used to be like ‘oh she’s just a child, she doesn’t know better’ which was just disgusting.

June was just. Absolutely horrible, if I had the chance once again, Id truly end it all. It’s not fair, why does everyone hhab it good but not mme I deserve to be happy, Don’t I?

I’d truly start a fundraiser for myself so I could leave this house but, im stuck here. There is no way in hell I could possibly leave- perhaps when im 18, I’ll have the chance to.

But but- this whole post isn’t about me pitying myself, it is about me taking a break.

I will be going on break Yes, I’ll mostly be on in discord, just won’t be speaking to people much, if you decide to check up on me in discord I’ll probably reply, apologies if not.

I wont be away for long as much as I’ve gone through a lot, I’ll probably take a couple days

I mite take like .. 5 days (on discord and all my social media..) and be back. PLEASE. Please try and reblog this if you can.

Remember to stay safe everyone and that i love you all !

This is Emmy signing off ! Bye bye ! 🩵

[lani-heart]

|| series masterlist || jake's story ending // previously ||

parings -> sim jaeyun x reader genre -> non-idol au, school au, hyrbid au warnings -> neglected, running away, arranged marriage, replacement word count -> 1.7k

abstract -> you don't have to worry about anything, unlike those unluckier than you.

jake’s perspective

“Yes! Please, anything but be stuck at a farm!” I begged that I jump up to the kennel door to try to get closer to her. She laughed and smiled softly… she was saving me from a stupid farm even though I gave her trouble and she said… 

“Wait… but you said you couldn’t own a hybrid?” I asked and she smiled. “Well… I negotiated for myself like I was planning before I met you, and I negotiated for a companion. I don’t understand why you’ve never been adopted” she said sincerely and I felt like crying. 

“Thank you… I'll be the best hybrid! I took classes and everything!” I said and she giggled while taking a piece of paper out of her bag. “Jake, a golden retriever hybrid with a lot of energy. A well-mannered hybrid that needs etiquette training but otherwise a lovely hybrid” she read while now showing me… it was the class file?

“I’ve been busy while they’ve been preparing you with checkups and vaccines… you wanna see what I’ve prepared?” She smiled and I nodded. “As long as I'm by your side,” I said and she giggled. “Well, Jake, you might get sick of me then. You’re stuck with me” she said but I shook my head. 

“You’d get sick of me before I'd ever get sick of you” I confessed and felt sad at the thought… She hummed and pretended to think…

“Well, good thing we’ll never get sick of each other!” 

“You’re the infamous Jake!” I heard and quickly hid behind y/n. Was this to punish me? “He’s not mad at you nor is he scary” she reassured but I didn’t want to believe her.

“It’s true in fact anything you did was nothing compared to the hell I would’ve faced married to her '' he said… marry? “We were gonna be arranged to marry by our parents, remember I mentioned negotiations?” she asked and I understood now… she ran away from him… technically her parents while he ran off to… japan?

“Oh, this reminds me! Riki and her owner mentioned if I saw you you owe him a new coat” he said and I sighed… I guess I did. “Don’t worry about that, I'll ship one to replace it” she reassured me and I nodded. She was… real, not a dream like I'd sometimes have. 

“You already have an obsessed hybrid” he teased her and she scoffed. “You done? You’ve said your peace?” she asked and he nodded while putting his hand out to me… I shook it and he smiled. “See ya around Jake! It’s nice meeting you and don’t worry about it. The past is the past and I'm a free man again!” he joked before saying his goodbye. 

“He’s a strange guy… you’ll meet a lot of strange friends of mine,” she said and I chuckled. “As long as I'm with you,” I said and she smiled. She looked at me with a sudden pout… she was so cute. “You need a haircut and maybe a fur trim? Want to do it now?” she asked and I chuckled. 

“And be pampered by you, please?”

y/n’s perspective

The workers said because im his first and probably only owner in his life that he’ll be extremely attached. Not that I minded but… it worried me for what it would be like with sudden separation anxiety and getting used to etiquette.

There's no way I'd get rid of him now… we're stuck with each other but I don't need anyone telling him he needs to work for his place with me like they’ve done to Riki. My sweet puppy… he looked so happy and relaxed getting a haircut and trim. 

I still needed to give him a collar. Luckily I was assured he’d most likely react well to it… and not badly since he doesn’t have any bad experiences since im his first owner. His first time enjoying life outside the hybrid facilities.

“He’ll be out shortly, miss' ' I heard and I nod as I stood up now waiting for him. When he did appear his hair was now shorter, not much of a difference but it should revive his hair to be more healthy and his puppy ears and tail were now neat. 

He was a pretty hybrid… he was a pretty boy to me before too. 

“I think I look pretty good,” he said and I chuckled. “You look very handsome,” I said and his cheeks flushed a bit before he recounted. “I-I wasn’t before” he teased and I smiled at his nervous stutter. “You were pretty but you look better and happier,” I said and he smiled.

“I’m lucky to have met you,” he said and I nodded. “It’s the same for me, Jake,” I said as we left the place and started walking back to my apartment “You’re now my priority okay?” I said and he smiled. “Thank you…” he said, looking hesitant and I sighed. “You know… I was wondering if you wanted to continue those classes?” I asked and he hummed.

“Well… I wanna see Niki again! So… I wouldn’t mind besides, you have classes there too right? I can keep myself from feeling bored when away from you” he said and I smiled. 

He seemed to already understand that.

“Then do your best, okay Jake?” 

jake’s perspective

It was… a dream come true. We ate a filling meal she ordered from her apartment when she showed me my room and the closet of clothes and my own comfy bed. 

“I have one more thing to show you,” she said and I nodded before she gave me a box. It was the only thing she left for me to open? It had a bunch of packaging when I saw it… my own collar. 

“It also comes with tail rings for your tail–” like Niki “–in case the collar bothers you, but I hope you like it and you don't need to wear it often just when we go places that require it like your class,” she said and I couldn’t help the grin on my face. 

I would be going to class with a collar I'd be like those other hybrids… 

I couldn’t help that I suddenly hugged her and I thought for a second I should have since I had to behave but when she laughed and hugged me back I immediately melted into her comfort. 

“I hope you’re happy here with me,” she said and I smiled. “I’m really glad I met you, maybe it was fate that finally put us together,” I said and she smiled. 

“I think so too”

I was enrolled in classes again so I'd have to start going to them again. The only bad thing is Niki is still in Japan so I was alone… “She’s your owner now huh?”  heard as I saw the mean bird hybrid. 

“I hope you enjoy it, she’s a bitch who doesn’t know how to do anything herself. She's constantly complaining and is gonna make you do so many stupid things just to humiliate you!” he yelled at me. Others were staring…

“She wouldn’t do that” I muttered and he scoffed, grabbing my shirt. “You’ve suddenly changed from rags to riches and think it doesn’t come for a price!” he said and I was confused… What did he know about her? From what I know he knows nothing about her. 

“You know nothing about her… I knew you were hurt but, y/n would never do that” I said and his eyes widened… “y/n? Why are you suddenly mentioning her?” he asked, confused even loosening his grip letting me get away. “She adopted me… not like it's any of your business' ' I said and he sighed. 

“Is the free trial bird causing you trouble? I would too if I suddenly lost everything and suddenly became a freeloading hybrid!” a snow leopard hybrid laughed and the bird scoffed. 

“You shouldn’t be laughing... From what I heard your owner doesn’t even know–" "Shut up before I make sure this pretty little bird can't sing again” he threatened… 

“Sore subject? I wouldn’t want to remember you either, Sunghoon”

Now that I had a collar many hybrids tried talking to me… it was strange. 

Instead, I decided to sit next to a fox hybrid at the back of the class wanting to avoid Jay… but the fox hybrid didn’t look any better. Most of the hybrids in this room were spoiled and mean or… spoiled and depressed. It was a strange concept… the stray hybrids were also losing hope like I did. 

It was cruel…

I went outside waiting for her… would she pick me up? It was when I noticed the fox hybrid, snow leopard, and bird were also waiting like me. “I’m sorry I'm late!” I heard and saw a girl with a patient wristband. “I forgot where this place was and–” “Whatever,” the snow leopard said with a sad expression on his face. 

They walked off and I wondered what was his issue? “His owner is an amnesiac… everyone thinks he tried to kill her and she just forgot,” Jay said but why would he look at her with such a sad expression otherwise… “He’d never do that, they’ve been with each other since kids' ' the fox hybrid defended. 

“What do you know Sunoo?” Jay asked and the fox hybrid stayed silent. “Jake!” I heard and saw y/n. “You’re late” I pout and she sighed. “It took me a while to actually get here from across campus,” she said and I nodded. “Hmm? Looks like you had company though?” she asked and I sighed. 

“Not really,” I said as we walked off. When we were away from the lecture hall I decided to ask. 

“Why was Sunghoon and Jay so mean?” I asked and she sighed. “Jay is a hybrid that many people get for free trial meaning they see what they like in a hybrid and what they don’t… but since he’s had so many owners and isn’t a ‘cute’ hybrid they give him away” she explained and I couldn’t imagine being in his situation. 

“While Sunghoon is just… always been a troublemaker and recently with his owner being in such an accident to forget her memories he might just be a little heartbroken. There were rumors they loved each other…” she explained and it did seem like a heartbreaking experience. 

“Give them a little patience okay?” she asked and I smiled. “I will,” I said and she nodded. 

“Besides… you don’t have to worry about anything when you're with me”

@ilovecheese09 @gudkc @nikisvanillaccola @blossominghunnie @mheretoreadff @k1ttylvr @starzniiky @kibs-and-bits @b3tt7boop @in-somnias-world @lol6sposts @xiaoderrrr @jihyosgfremade @b-a-nshee-blog @mimisamisasa @katsukis1wife @eggomi @thunderous-wolf @tinyteezer @lilactangerine @starfallia @sousydive @bearseulgs

please don't be a silent reader !! reblog, comment, and like <3

[katyswrites]

'tis the damn season

PART 4 | SERIES

Pairing: Steve Harrington/fem!reader

Warnings: Smut (18+), angst, friends-with-benefits, parental neglect/abuse, smoking, alcohol use, two fools who can’t just say what they feel

Wordcount: 9.1k

Childhood friends-to-lovers-to-strangers-to-lovers again, broken promises, and roads not taken, lots of angst, soft smut, illicit affairs, what-ifs, and it’s always been you. And it all leads to your hometown, during Christmas break.

Part 4 | the warmest bed I’ve ever known

THEN, Spring 1988

“Wait, what?” Robin cried in disbelief.

You sighed, twirling the phone’s cord in your hand.

“Robin, look -”

“You mean I’m not going to see you at all? You’re killing me here -”

“Robin! It’s just… this is a really big opportunity. And, I’ve got my own place here now, and flights have gotten crazy expensive -”

You heard Robin laugh through the phone, then a sigh.

“You know I’m fucking with you, right?”

A small wave of relief washed over you - you had been dreading this call, so much that you’d been putting it off for over a week.

“You are?”

“Yeah! I mean - I’m not going to lie, I’m pretty bummed that you’re not coming back to Hawkins. I miss you like crazy. But, that’s so exciting… like, an internship with the New York Times? I mean, you’re really doing it - making it in the big city, all of that -”

You smiled, and flopped down on your bed, clutching the phone.

“Yeah, well, it’s not exactly glamorous - it’s an unpaid internship, and I’m taking extra shifts at the coffee shop to make it all work, with two roommates -”

“Yeah, but… it’s all pretty amazing. You’re really getting out, doing what you’ve always wanted. And I mean, me and Steve are still stuck back here -”

You twinged inwardly at the mention of his name, and were suddenly thankful that Robin couldn’t see you right then.

“Oh c’mon - don’t talk like that. I mean, you said the semester’s going well, right?”

Robin sighed, and you could picture the way she was probably rolling her eyes.

“Yeah, at Hawkins Community - but, I’m thinking of transferring next year. Not sure if I can afford it though.”

“There’s nothing wrong with community college, Robin. I’ve told you that like a million times -”

“It’s not the school itself, you know that. I just… you actually got out, away from Hawkins. The most interesting thing here is the movie theater, and only one screen is working right now, did you know that?”

You bit your lip, and searched for the words - you couldn’t argue with her there. But, Robin carried on, the way she often did:

“But, to be honest, it’s probably good that I’m sticking around here - without me here, God knows what would happen to Steve. I think we’re a little codependent, to be honest - did you tell him yet, that you’re not coming back for spring break, or the summer? I can, if you want, but I didn’t know -”

“Oh, uh - I mean, you can, if you want,” you answered quickly. “No need to make a big deal out of it, but, um… I don’t care if he knows, I guess. He’ll figure it out, when I don’t show up, anyways.”

You were aware that you were stammering, your heartbeat quickening and palms growing clammy at the thought of Steve. In the days following your argument, you had found yourself spiraling, thinking of nothing but Steve. There were a million times that you thought about calling him, or driving to his house, or even writing him a letter - but the idea of facing him again was enough to make you sick. In the end, you had headed back to New York in the new year, and subconsciously made a vow to never see him again. When you had received the summer internship offer, and the chance to renew the lease on your apartment, you had jumped at the opportunity. 

You hadn’t told Robin about what happened between you and Steve - it felt wrong to lie, but you couldn’t even bring yourself to talk about it. But you had somewhat assumed that he would say something - those two were inseparable. If she knew anything, though, she wasn’t letting it on. In fact, she was talking about Steve like things were completely normal, which was lending itself to awkward conversations like this. 

“Um, okay… by the way, just between you and me, I think he really misses you.”

You stiffened, and cursed yourself for your sharp intake of breath - Robin probably heard that.

“You think so?” you asked, trying your best to keep your tone steady.

“I mean, yeah - whenever I bring you up, he gets kind of weird… I can’t really explain it. He usually talks to me about these things, but… it doesn’t matter. I love him, but he can be such a guy sometimes, you know? But, I think he’s going to be sorry to hear you’re ditching us, that’s all.”

No, you thought. He’ll actually be thrilled to know he doesn’t have to see me again.

The thought alone was enough to make your eyes start to burn with tears, and you soon had to make a lame excuse to hang up the phone. And once again, you were alone. 

NOW, Winter 1988

For the two days following your conversation with Robin, where you had confessed everything, you find yourself spiraling. Maybe it’s just the run-in with Steve that had done this, the reminder that he’s real and here, only minutes away - in New York, it had been easy to keep him off of your mind. But, now, everything reminds you of him - driving past your old high school, the small Methodist church on the corner, the movie theater at the center of town, or the footprint of where Starcourt Mall used to be, bringing you back to that one summer when he scooped ice cream in that ridiculous sailor uniform. You feel him in the chilly winter wind, in the bare trees lining the sidewalks, in the smell of fireplace smoke drifting through the atmosphere on especially cold nights. And you hear him in the music on the radio, when that one Wham! song comes on, and you picture him rolling his eyes and smiling endearingly and you belted it in his face.

You had thought that being back in Hawkins would feel strange, after being away so long. But no, it’s worse - it aches. 

But, Christmas is on its way, and you throw yourself into holiday prep in full force. You decide to not think about Steve, to the best of your ability. You gather and wrap gifts, help hang lights over the fireplace, and finish addressing the last-minute Christmas cards that your mother forgot to send out. Then, comes the baking - you’re always tasked with it, making cakes and cookies and confections for all of the parties, including your special lemon cake, saved for an indulgent breakfast on Christmas morning. It’s what brings you to the grocery store in the afternoon, with a long list of baking essentials. The store is a bit of a zoo, with Christmas only about a week away, and you find yourself shouldering down the aisle labeled ‘Baking Needs.’ It’s slim pickings, and you inwardly groan as you have to get the more expensive brand-name baking soda. You’re so preoccupied that you’re intentionally drowning out the sounds of the people around you, scanning your handwritten list with a furrowed brow. 

Okay, you think, I’ve got the eggs, lemons, flour, sugar, unsalted butter -

It’s why you hardly see him, not until you’re looking up and moving again, nearly crashing your cart right into him.

“Oh my - oh, hey,” you say, your voice getting caught in your throat when you realize who it is.

Steve stares back at you, mouth hanging open, eyes wide. He looks just as he did a few days ago, a bit changed from the boy you last saw a year ago. But, he’s still Steve, and he’s standing in the middle of the grocery aisle right in front of you. The mundanity of it all somehow makes it seem more unbelievable, more exasperating. To his credit, he’s frozen in place, looking like he’s seen a ghost.

“Hey,” he replies softly.

You both stare at each other, almost filling the silence, then stopping - what is there even to say? Shoppers weave around you, muttering to themselves, crackly Christmas music playing through the store’s sound system. But you may as well be able to hear a pin drop, because you can’t find a single thing to say, and neither can Steve.

“I - um - what are you doing?” Steve asks. You glance down at you cart, full of chocolate and flour and absolutely nothing practical, then shrug.

“Oh, you know - buying stuff for Christmas baking. My parents are busy with work, and I’m the one who knows what to get anyways, so… yeah.”

It’s stiff, and awkward, and a ridiculous exchange to even be having. He just nods.

“Oh, yeah - the great Christmas baking extravaganza.”

Right - three years ago, Steve had been there to help you, letting you instruct him around the kitchen, and the cookies had nearly burned because you two got… distracted. You shake the memory, feeling sick.

“Oh - yeah. I think I’m making my chai cookies for your party, actually… your mom told my mom that she really liked those.”

He raises his eyebrows at that, curious.

“You’re - you’re coming to the party on Saturday?”

“I - well, yeah. I didn’t think I was, but… my mom was pretty insistent.”

Something flickers across his face then, something unreadable, then his expression hardens.

“Right, yeah -makes sense. I mean, that you’re coming because of your mom.”

His words are clipped, his voice sharp. Fuck.

You just wish, more than anything, that the ground will open up beneath you and swallow you up, if it means getting out of this encounter. But, miracles don’t happen often, so you have to swallow your pride and face him instead. You sigh, looking down at your cart. 

“Steve, I - that’s not what I meant. Well, I guess it is, but - I figured you didn’t really want to see me. And I’m not going to make you uncomfortable in your house, that’s not fair.”

Just silence from him, and you can’t look at him. You just find yourself focusing on a bag of flour in the cart, reading the label as you try to figure out something else to say.

“But, it seems the world just wants us to run into each other anyway, apparently,” you mumble.

“Hm, yeah, I guess,” Steve says coldly. Another moment passes, just the two of you in the grocery aisle - somehow, of everyone in the store, he’s the only one who truly seems like a stranger.

“Well, uh - I guess I’ll see you on Saturday,” you say quickly, finally bringing your eyes back up to meet his. “I - I’ll try to stay out of your way, though. It’s the least I can do.”

You make a move to keep pushing your cart, but Steve just sighs.

“Hey, wait -”

Despite yourself, you stop in your tracks, frozen. You look back at him, and there’s a question in his eyes, searching your face for… something.

“Yeah?” you reply.

“I, uh - are you free later today?”

You furrow your brow, and nod cautiously.

“Um, yes - I mean, I think I should be. I have a couple of other errands to run, but I don’t think it’s going to take super long -”

“You want to meet at Gateway? And like, get a coffee, or something?”

You feel your stomach twist and turn into knots - there’s something in his voice, the harsh edge softened just a bit, pleading for you. And he’s staring at you with those honey brown eyes, and you know one thing - if you say no, that’s it - the nail in the coffin. So you swallow, and nod slowly.

“Yeah - sure thing.”

He nods curtly, and glances at his watch.

“Okay, well - it’s noon, so want to say like, around 2?”

“Mm hm - that’s fine. I’ll meet you there, I guess.”

You let your gaze linger on Steve for a moment longer, then turn and walk down the aisle, pretending to look at your shopping list. You wonder if he’s still staring at you - but you don’t dare to turn around to find out.

*****

You arrive at Gateway Diner at 1:56 pm. Steve is never on time for anything, that much you know - so you sit in your car for a moment, gathering yourself. You take a few deep breaths, shutting your eyes and resting your head against the wheel. You feel a bit sick, your mind in a haze ever since the conversation in the grocery store a few hours ago. Coming back to Hawkins was a huge mistake, Christmas be damned -

You take a moment to glance at yourself in the mirror, and sigh - if you had known this was happening today…

You fish around in your bag, silently thanking yourself for always carrying around a little concealer and mascara. You do your best with your finger to cover the dark circles under your eyes, hastily dabbing in the concealer until it’s deemed good enough. As you quickly run mascara over your lashes, you laugh to yourself, feeling like a fool - but, it doesn’t stop you, nor does it stop you from finally getting out of the car. You take one more deep breath in the chilly December air - you can do this.

When you enter the diner, your cold cheeks burn as they meet the warm air. It’s thick with the sounds of chatter and silverware, the smell of greasy food wafting from the kitchen. It had been so long since you had last been here, and somehow, you actually feel like you’re somewhere familiar for the first time all week.

You try to catch the eye of the girl behind the counter to be seated - someone new, she might even still be in high school - but before you can, you hear an all-too-familiar voice call your name. You whip your head towards it, and see Steve sitting at a booth by the window, waving in your direction. 

You nod and head over, each step feeling impossible as you grow closer to him. It doesn’t matter how many times you’ve run into him, you realize - you’ll never quite get used to the sight of him, not anymore.

He already has a mug of coffee in front of him, halfway done, by the looks of it. He got here early, and waited, you realize with dread. Fuck.

“Hey,” he says, offering a small smile as you slide into the vinyl booth.

“Hey,” you parrot. He’s just staring at you, and you suddenly find yourself fidgeting. Unsure what to do with your hands, you just fold them flat on the table, suddenly making this whole thing feel like a business meeting between colleagues. No, worse than that: you’re strangers.

“Thanks for coming,” he says quietly. “I wasn’t sure you would.”

You shrug, staring down at the full cup of coffee sitting in front of you - he must’ve ordered it for you.

“To be honest, I wasn’t sure I would, either.”

It’s brutal, but honest - his face falters slightly, but to his credit, he recovers quickly.

“Well, I’m glad you did.”

Silence again. Heavy, awkward. You fumble with one of  the little creamers, pouring it into your coffee and avoiding eye contact as you busy yourself.

“So,” he starts, “uh - how’s New York been?”

You shrug, stirring the coffee with a spoon.

“Fine. I mean, good - really busy. I’m still interning with the Times. And, working at this coffee place downtown. But, it’s cool, because I’m actually doing stuff. Like, I don’t just grab coffee - I get to sit in on meetings, they listen to my ideas, let me look over stuff as it gets edited - I’m learning a lot.”

You find yourself rambling, carrying on with details he probably doesn’t care about, because somehow it’s better than that godawful silence. Steve, to his credit, is at least pretending to be a good listener - he’s looking at you intently, hanging on each word as you carry on about your apartment, your roommates, the breaking news article you practically stayed overnight in the office to help get published.

“- I mean, don’t get me wrong, I was exhausted, but it was worth it - there was this thrill to it, knowing that I helped to make that happen, and it was on the front page. Below the fold, but still -”

“That’s amazing,” he says quietly. You stop, and meet his eyes. He’s just looking at you, face soft, and something tells you he actually means it. Bastard. 

“Yeah?”

“Yeah. It’s what you’ve always wanted - for as long as I remember. So, that’s awesome, really. Did they put your name?”

You raise your eyebrow, confused.

“What?”

“Your name. On the byline? You always said that was your dream - to have your byline on the front of the Times.”

You hesitate for a moment, completely caught off-guard - you don’t even remember telling him that. But he does.

“Oh, that. Well, no. But, I didn’t write it, exactly - I called some sources, did some editing, but… it wasn’t exactly mine.”

He shakes his head as he raises the coffee mug to his lips.

“That’s still not right - you deserve it. I’ll march down there and tell ‘em that myself.”

You feel something flutter in your chest, in a way that’s achingly familiar, because it’s so Steve. 

“Yes, well - I think I can handle that for myself, thanks.”

It’s meant to be a joke, but sounds more defensive than you intend - did you intend it that way? But, you can't think on it, because the wall is put back up. You can see it in his face, how it hardens, how he straightens up a bit - he was just starting to relax, both of you were, but that iciness remains.

Before you can say anything, a waitress is approaching, carrying a tray full of food. You vaguely recognize her - middle-aged, with a friendly face and massive perm. Is her name Joan, maybe? You feel just a little sad, starting to feel more detached from the town you grew up in than you ever have before.

“The full breakfast for you, young man - and a full stack for you, with extra syrup,” she says enthusiastically.

You look at Steve, and raise an eyebrow. He just offers a small smile, and shrugs.

“I ordered before you got here - I figured you’d never say no to pancakes, right?”

“I - yeah, no, that’s great. Thanks, Steve.”

You set yourself on pouring the side of syrup over the plate, and Steve just shakes his head.

“So I was right - you still like to drench everything in sight in syrup,” he says playfully.

“Shut up,” you retort, earning a chuckle from him. It’s slightly forced, but still nice to hear - you hadn’t been sure if you remembered what his laugh sounds like anymore. 

“Thanks, though,” you add. “I’m actually pretty hungry.”

You both sit in silence while you eat. It’s strange, how something can be simultaneously so uncomfortable yet familiar. The booth is the same, with its worn vinyl, the sticky tabletop, the smell of coffee and syrup and eggs settling wrapping around you like a warm hug. But then there’s you and Steve, the only unrecognizable thing in this diner - still technically the same people who had slid into this booth as teenagers, but a bit older, more hardened, and something irreparable separating you.

“So,” you say after a while. “Uh, I realize I talked a lot about myself, but… how are things with you?”

He glances up at you for a moment, and shrugs.

“Oh, you know - the same. Working at Family Video, hanging out with Robin, the kids - I guess they’re hardly kids anymore. But, you know me - not much to report.”

There’s an edge to his voice, and it takes you a moment to remember why. You had managed to block out most of your argument from last winter, because the memory of it riddles you with an immeasurable guilt. But, you remember now:

Uproot your life? Be serious Steve - you couldn’t take a week off from your minimum wage job, chauffeuring a bunch of teenagers, and maybe being Daddy’s punching bag?

You suddenly want to sink into the floor, because if Steve is intentionally giving you a cold shoulder, you can’t say you don’t deserve it. But, wasn’t him asking you to meet him here, his way of extending an olive branch? Or, was it just to get some closure?

It’s an elephant in the room, this great big thing making it impossible to be near him, making your stomach turn intermittently. So, it has to be addressed, eventually - it needs to be ripped off like a band-aid.

“Hey, Steve - I… I’m sorry.”

He looks up at you, meeting your eyes properly. 

“What for?” he asks quietly.

You sigh, placing down your fork.

“You know what for,” you say firmly.

“Do I?”

He’s playing a game, his words a little more biting. This is going to be even harder than you thought, you realize - and you had already been prepared for it to be godawful.

“I - last time I saw you… I said some things I regret. Some really shitty things. And, you didn’t deserve that. I -” you steady yourself for a moment, taking a deep breath to combat the heaviness in your throat. Your chest is tight, your palms clammy.

“I just, um - I’ve played that argument in my head, like, a million times. And, I’ve felt a lot of things. Sometimes I get angry, upset, or just plain sad. But most of the time… I just feel shame. Like, utter, fucking shame. So, it may not mean much at this point, and I don’t think I’ll ever be able to fix this but… I’m sorry.”

You do mean it, every word, and there’s something unbelievably cathartic about finally saying the words that have been playing through your mind for a year. You’ve played this conversation in your mind a thousand times, and for once, you think that maybe you’re not screwing it up.

Steve’s face is unreadable - you can tell he’s thinking, and listening, but it’s hard to gauge what he’s really thinking. 

After a moment, he simply asks, “Then why did you leave?”

“What?”

“Why did you leave? When you didn’t come back this past summer, I - I thought you were gone for good. That I’d never see you again.”

He says it matter-of-fact, blandly, like he’s trying to stave off any emotion. You don’t really know what to say to that - did you think you’d ever actually see him again? Did you want to?

Honesty, you decide - at this point, it’s the least you owe him, even if you don’t actually know what the truth is.

“I - I thought I was, too. Gone for good, I mean. It wasn’t an actual choice - like, I didn’t think I wanted to stay away forever. But, you were right about one thing - I’ve always wanted to get out of Hawkins, and leave it all behind for something else. Any yeah, whenever I was gone, I missed you, Robin, my family… but then, when - well, when that happened… I got the internship offer, the chance to stay in my apartment, to start my life in the city. So, I decided to stay there. I ran, because… because I’m a coward. And, because I figure you hate my guts, and it’d be easier if you didn’t have to deal with me anymore.”

Because I couldn’t bring myself to face you, because I’d rather miss you than be hurt even more, because I -

“No,” he whispers.

“No what?”

“No, you’re not a coward,” he says firmly. “You’re a lot of things - Smart. Talented. Stubborn. Honest. A terrible singer, and a sugar addict -”

Despite everything, you find yourself laughing at him, because there he is again, the Steve you know.

“- but a coward? No, no way. Maybe you were scared but… that’s not the same thing, not really. I mean, you got out of Hawkins, you’re kicking ass at your dream job before you’re even done with school - that’s not a coward, got that? And… I don’t know how you could ever think that I hate you. Ever.”

He leans back in the booth after that, some tension visibly leaving his body as he gets it off of his chest. You just feel yourself freeze, your ears roaring, eyes burning.

“I - Steve, don’t -”

“I mean it,” he says. “I was hurt, and pretty pissed - maybe I still am, I don’t know. But hating you… that’s not something I could do.”

For not the first time in your life, you feel the sudden urge to protect this boy, to want to give him everything, to make sure nothing ever hurts him again. But you can’t say it, because it’s not quite a feeling you can put into words, unless -

“Promise?” you ask, perhaps a bit pathetically.

“Promise,” he says. 

With Steve, it’s easy to believe him, even if it’s only for a moment.

*****

When you’ve both drank your bodyweight in coffee, cleared your plates, and exhausted conversation, you make a move to leave the diner. Steve insists on paying, dropping bills on the table as you both re-emerge into the cold December air. After the warmth of sitting inside, the outdoors bites your skin, flushes your face. You wrap your scarf just a little tighter, shoving your hands in your pockets as you both walk to the parking lot. 

The day is already starting to dull, and thanks to the peak winter season, you know that there’s probably only about an hour of daylight left. Neither of you speak for a while, not until you reach Steve’s car. The familiar red BMW makes you want to cry, and you suddenly feel stupid for even feeling so attached to something like a car. But, it’s not a car - it’s an extension of Steve.

“Well, thanks,” you say carefully. “I - I’m glad we got a chance to talk properly. To clear the air, I guess.”

There’s still so much to be said, so many questions you want to ask - but maybe you’d never really know the answers to those.

He just kicks at the gravel, scuffing his Nikes as he contemplates.

“Me too. I mean, uh - do you have anywhere you need to be?”

You shake your head cautiously.

“Um, no? I already dropped my groceries at home, but I’m probably not going to start baking until tomorrow… I think my parents are out tonight, anyways. Wait, why?”

He shrugs, leaning back against the side of the car.

“Well… wanna go for a drive?”

He asks it so simply, as if no time has passed at all. In your high school days, and when you’d visit for college breaks, going for an aimless drive was a frequent occurrence, just an excuse to spend time together. But now, it feels like more than that - a peace offering, an attempt at normalcy. 

“Oh! Um - yeah, sure. Why not.”

When you slide into the passenger seat, everything is the same - not that you had really expected anything else. The dusty dashboard, the worn-leather smell, the crackly radio - all the same, like you had never left.

“Where are we going?” you ask casually as Steve backs out of the lot. You pull off your big red scarf, tossing it into the back seat as heat wafts through the vents.

“Dunno. Wherever we feel like, I guess.”

The answer is the old parking lot adjacent to Hawkins High, tucked right between the school and an old Methodist church. It’s basically deserted, the middle of the work and school day making you and Steve one of the only cars here.

After he parks, the boy just sighs, leaning back in his seat and shutting his eyes. You let him just do that for a while, the Christmas music on the radio serving as the only form of company. You stare ahead across the street, at the old high school building. The girl and boy who walked those halls a few years ago don’t exist anymore, not really - instead, there’s the versions of you and Steve sitting here in this car, changed.

“D’you ever miss it?” you ask.

“Hm?”

“High school. I mean, I know a lot of it is bullshit, and I think I’d die if I had to take another algebra test, but… do you ever miss parts of it.”

He thinks for a moment, before sighing and straightening up in his seat.

“Yes and no. I do think some things were a lot more simple back then. I mean, I was an asshole, but I kind of got my shit together towards the end. But, to answer your question - do I wish that my biggest problem was winning the next basketball game, or which girl I was going to take to prom? Yeah. Of course.”

You think about his words for a moment, and echo a similar sentiment - a desire for a life that was simpler, more carefree than you had realized at the time.

“We’re getting old,” you joke.

He laughs heartily, nodding in agreement.

“Oh, yeah - we’ll be in the old folks home, soon enough.”

You both laugh at that, the feeling and sound of it nearly foreign.

“Do you think we’re all going to end up like our parents?” you ask, voice a bit firmer.

He pauses again, staring straight ahead out the front window.

“No,” he concedes. “I hope not.”

The hours pass, the dusk quickly turning into the heavy cloak of night. The pair of you mostly sit in silence after that, occasionally swapping an old memory from childhood, laughing at a story from your high school days, occasionally wondering aloud where some of your former friends and classmates are today.

“I wonder if Tommy H. and Carol are still together,” you wonder aloud.

Steve groans. “Ugh, don’t remind me of them.”

“Why not? You guys were friends -”

“Yeah, that’s the problem. I wasted so much time with them, and people like them, just to be something I’m not. I just wish I had figured that all out sooner.”

“Why?” you ask. “I mean, I know they were kind of dicks, but… there’s nothing wrong with wanting to be popular in high school.”

“Maybe not,” he says. “But, I didn’t realize that what I really wanted - what I needed - was there in front of me, the entire time. And I didn’t need to chase anything.”

Your breath hitches in your throat, because you know what he’s getting at - you think back to that conversation years ago, in the haze of early summer, when he confessed to regretting distancing himself from you in high school. The same night he’d kissed you for the first time, when a lot of things happened for the first time -

You find yourself looking at the boy in the driver’s seat, and you want to reach across and just touch him - run your hands through his hair, brush along his face -

And you don’t realize that you’re leaning closer to him, you hand half-reaching out towards him. You catch it, pulling it back and settling it in your lap. But he’s looking at you with those big brown eyes, warm like honey, and they feel just a bit like home. And he’s leaning towards you, too, closer than he probably should be.

“Steve?” you ask, softer than a whisper.

“Yeah?”

You can feel the heat radiating off of him, contrasting with the cold fogging up the windshield glass, and he’s so close, the familiar smell of him becoming too much -

“I -”

Then, a screeching HONK, loud enough that you jump, your head nearly hitting the ceiling.

“Oh, fuck -”

“Jesus, sorry,” he says, realizing it just came from him, elbow pressed too hard into the steering wheel of his own car.

“It’s fine,” you say. Your eyes flit down to the clock on your dashboard, and you let out a shaky breath.

“Oh, wow - look at the time! I - I know my parents are out, but, it is pretty late -”

“Oh, yeah,” Steve says hurriedly. “Let me just drive you back,  I guess.”

“Sounds good!” you say, your voice a little too shrill, too enthusiastic. “Just bring me back to Gateway, actually - we left my car there.”

“Right, of course - I’ve got you.”

You two don’t say much else on the way back, letting Baby It’s Cold Outside and Sleigh Ride fill the silence instead. When Steve brings you back to the diner, you offer each other a curt nod, and you manage to get out a thanks again, I’ll see you at the party.

Before you can close the door, you’re stopped as he says “Hey, wait -”

“Mm?”

“Are we - are we friends again?” he asks. His voice is soft, pleading, his eyes wide and shining through the dimness of the night. You cross your arms and pull your coat tight, thinking carefully about your answer.

You want to say yes, of course, I don’t think we could ever not be friends, Steve. But then you remember what he had said all those months ago - those three words, which somehow crossed a line more than any amount of sex ever could. It’s what stops you, makes you hesitate, even as the boy stares at you expectantly.

“I - I don’t know,” you admit. “I guess I just - I need some time still, to figure stuff out. I don’t know if things can ever go back to the way they were, but -”

“They can’t?” he asks, sounding a bit defeated. You sigh, kicking yourself internally. You’re barrelling down a familiar path, and this whole thing could blow up again in an instant. So you gather yourself, measuring your response.

“I mean - not exactly as they were, no. But… I do miss you, Steve. More than I realized. So… I think it’s a start,” you decide.

He thinks for a moment, then slowly nods.

“Yeah, okay - I can do a start.”

You both just stare at each other for a moment, and you ultimately decide to step back. Before slamming the passenger door closed, you add, “Well - thanks again. I’ll see you on Saturday. At the party, I mean.”

He nods curtly, offering a semi-forced smile.

“Yeah - Saturday.”

When you’re back in your car, and you’re certain he’s driven away, you let your forehead rest on the steering wheel, wishing you could just melt into it and never come out again.

*****

It’s difficult to say whether you actually feel better after your day with Steve. Most of you says yes - apologies were made, the air was cleared, and for brief moments, it had felt as if nothing had happened at all. But, it also brought back memories - far too many memories. Little things, really - Steve’s laugh, they way his eyes glint in the sunlight, the smell of his cologne, the cigarettes he keeps in his glove box; the way he looks at you, the look he gets when you make a joke, the way he sounded saying I love y-

You’re pulled from your thoughts by the sound of your doorbell ringing. You glance at your bedside clock - it’s a little past 10pm, but there’s no way your parents could possibly be home yet…

You swing your legs over the side of your bed, shrugging on a sweater as you pad down the hallway to your front door. The doorbell rings again, and you roll your eyes - probably a last-minute late night delivery from out-of-town, because your mother always forgets something until a few days before Christmas.

When you open the door, the last thing you expect is Steve Harrington to be standing there in the dim porch light. His face is flushed from the cold, the flurries of snow dusting his hair, and he looks just a little too handsome. The sight of him makes you ache again, in a way you can’t quite explain. His eyes widen at the sight of you, as if you’re the last person he thought would be standing in the doorway of your own house.

“Steve! Hi! I, uh - what’re you doing here?” you ask with surprise. 

“Oh, um, you know,” he says, raising up a flash of red in his hand. “It’s just - you left this. In my car, I mean.”

You look properly at what he’s holding, and you make out what it is: your scarf. You hadn’t even realized it was missing.

“Oh! Um, thanks,” you say, taking it from his outstretched hand. Your fingers brush his, just for the briefest second. And, despite how cold his skin is, it feels like it lights you on fire at the contact. You pull back quickly, as if he’s actually burned you, and sling the scarf over your arm.

“Don’t mention it,” he replies, shoving his hands into his coat pockets.

You both stand there for a moment. Two. The wind howls a bit, and you both shiver.

“Was there anything else?” you ask, hardly daring to raise your voice above a whisper.

“Uh, yeah,” he says, but he doesn’t sound too sure. “I mean maybe?”

“Maybe?”

“No, I mean, yes - that’s all.”

You raise an eyebrow, crossing your arms.

“So, you drove out here in the middle of the night, as the snow is starting, just to bring me my scarf back?” you demand.

He just stares at you, long enough that you wonder if he somehow didn’t hear you. Then, he’s taking a step forward, and whispering, “No.”

You’re not sure who moves first, but he’s crashing into you, arms tugging you into each other as his lips find yours.

You gasp as he kisses you, surprised by how right it feels, how easy it is. Your hand is fisted in his coat, and he brings his hands to both sides of your face as you back up through the doorway, pulling him with you.

He kicks the door closed behind him, hardly breaking the kiss - it’s desperate, and messy, and nothing is gentle about it. He kisses you like he’ll die if he doesn’t, enough to knock the breath from your lungs. And you don’t want him to stop, not ever, not if it means that you’ll never have to lose him again.

You stumble your way through the house, until you’re searching frantically for the door of your bedroom, the pair of you barrelling through it in a whirlwind and slamming it shut.

It’s the first time you’ve stopped kissing since he came through the doorway, and you both just stare at each other, chests heaving, hearts racing.

“I,” he starts. “I swear, I’m just trying to -”

“I know,” you whisper, bringing one hand up to card your fingers through his hair. “I’ve always known, Steve.”

He furrows his brow, confused.

“Always known what?”

But you don’t answer, and just pull him in for another kiss instead. It’s gentler this time, just a bit sweeter, and he’s sighing into your mouth.

He wraps his arms around your waist and pulls you closer, the kisses becoming desperate again. With every kiss, you’re trying to say a million things: I’m sorry, I missed you, I need you, I could never hate you, I lo-

But neither of you speak, because it’s just desperate moans and gasps, wandering hands and and tongues, and trying to touch anything, everything.

You don’t know when he shrugged off his coat, but you’re tugging at his sweater, perhaps a bit too desperately. He chuckles and steps back for a moment, pulling it off in one swift movement before bringing his hands to your head again, pulling your lips to his. It’s like you’re both addicted, unable to go more than a moment without touching each other. The distance and times is washing away, with every kiss, every brush of skin, every piece of clothing shed. 

He’s pulled your own sweater off of you, making a point to kiss the exposed skin of your shoulder and down the valley of your breasts, and you moan.

“Fuck, baby -” you gasp. “I - I”

“What do you need?” he asks, voice wild and desperate. “Tell me, anything you want, baby.”

“Just touch me, dammit,” you breathe, earning a laugh from him.

“I thought you’d never say that,” he growls, gently pushing you so you’re walking backwards. You let yourself fall as soon at the back of your knees hit the bed, and he’s hastily fumbling with the button of your pants.

In any other situation, you’d want him to take his time, to take it slowly, sweetly. But you don’t have the patience for that, not right now. SO you help him, popping the button and shimmying your pants down your legs, reaching around and unhooking your bra for good measure. As the straps slide down your arms and it falls off of you, he groans.

“Fuck - you’re so fuckin’ perfect, you’ve no idea -”

Your heart flutters at the praise, but you just pull him close to you, crashing his lips into yours again.

“Steve - please -”

“Yeah, yeah, okay,” he concedes, guiding you backwards. “Lay back, baby.”

You oblige, breath hitching in your throat as his lips wander along your throat, your breasts, swirling his tongue around your nipple. You gasp and arch your back, and the sounds you’re making only push him further, his lips traveling down, down, down -

Then he’s pulling your panties down your legs and kissing you everywhere - your ankle, the inside of your knee, your thigh, and then -

When he first licks a stripe along your slit, you let out a strangled cry, practically flying off the bed as you arch up. He practically growls, pressing his lips to his clit as he does, and you’re pretty sure you’re whimpering.

“Oh, fuck - Steve, that’s it - right there. I - ah! - add your finger there, yes -”

He’s working on you like it’s his job, lapping at you like a starving man. His tongue circles slowly around your clit, his fingers pumping in and out of you, and you hear the sound of your slick, your heaving breaths and pleas filling the room. You grip the sheets, bringing your heels to his bare back to press him closer into you.

“You’re so fucking wet,” he breathes into your cunt. “It’s so hot, baby - you taste so good -”

He’s speaking nonsense, half muffled as he licks at you, but the praise is enough for you.

You can’t even warn him, your orgasm hitting you embarrassingly fast. You come hard, screaming his name as you throw your head back and practically buck into his mouth. He continues licking at you softly, gently working you down from your high.

“That’s it, there you go - God, I love how you sound when you come,” he whispers, his breath fanning over your core. When it becomes too much, you gently tap his head, signaling him to come up for air. He pulls himself up slowly, hovering over you with a big grin on his face.

“Hi,” you breathe.

“Hi.”

His chin and lips are coated in your slick, but you don’t care. You pull him down into another kiss, tasting yourself on his tongue.

“You doing okay?” he asks as he pulls back, taking a moment to brush some hair from your face. You nod, unsure if you’re able to speak quite yet. So instead, you reach downwards, fumbling with his belt and button, biting your lip as you fumble in the dark between you two.

“Whoa, okay, hang on,” he says, pulling back to stand up for a moment. He rids himself of his pants quickly, his boxers the only remaining clothing between you two. Then he’s hovering over you again, smiling as you start kissing him. You reach down and start palming at his clothed bulge, straining against the confines of his underwear.

He groans into your neck, and shakily places his hand over yours and pulls it back.

“Wait, wait, baby - as much as I want you to touch me… I think this is gonna be over way too fast if I let you do that.”

You feel pride surge in your chest, the idea that you can have that kind of effect on this beautiful boy above you. So instead, you say nothing, and move to sit up. You wordlessly guide him, coaxing him to lay back against the mattress so you can straddle him.

He’s looking at you like you might not be real, and in that moment, you’re not sure if he is, either. So instead, you help him pull off his boxers, letting his hard cock spring free. It looks nearly painful, and you want nothing more than to make him feel good, to give him anything he wants.

So, without much ceremony, you take his cock in your hand. He hisses at your touch, and as you raise yourself over him, you meet his eyes one more time - are you sure?

He just nods, and you lower yourself onto him, enveloping him inch-by-inch. You both moan at the feeling, moving yourself slowly as he stretches your walls. He screws his eyes shut and throws his head back, groaning at the feeling of you around him. After what feels like a painstakingly long time, he bottoms out, filling you so completely that you think you might cry. 

You sit there for a moment, both getting used to the feeling - it had been a while for you, and if you had to guess, it had been for him as well.

“Can I move?” you ask after a moment. He just nods, eyes finally flying open to focus on you.

You being rocking back and forth, slowly, and he looks as if he’s died and gone to heaven. Soon enough, though, you begin to pick up the pace, bouncing on his cock as he rocks into you. He shifts until he’s nearly sitting up, gathering you close to his chest and you continue to rock in his lap. He snakes his hand down to where you meet, rubbing fast, messy circles on your clit. The sounds filling the room are just the slapping of skin, heaving breaths, and a slew of dirty words falling from both of you, incoherent and out of control.

“Oh, fuck - baby, you feel so good - so fuckin’ warm and tight, just for me -”

“I - oh, God - you’re amazing. Your cock is so big, filling me perfectly -”

“So beautiful, riding me like this - I can’t believe you came so quick before, babe - can you do it again?” he whispers, mouthing at the skin behind your ear. You just nod, burying your face into the warm skin of his shoulder, meeting his thrusts as he fucks up into you.

Then he angels himself perfectly, hitting that spot inside of you, and you start to cry out.

“I’m close, oh god, Steve - right there, harder, please, fuck me harder -”

You feel his cock twitch inside you, and feeling just a little bit evil, you squeeze around him. He sounds as if you’ve killed him, pressing his teeth into your shoulder.

“Oh, fuck, I’m gonna -”

“Come for me, Steve,” you whisper. “Come when I do.”

He mouths at your neck, and as you feel the familiar hook pulling in your abdomen, it hits you - what both of you need, right now, in this moment. You slow your movements slightly, pulling back to look him in the eye.

“Steve?” you breathe.

“Mm?”

You take his face in your hands, kissing him sweetly, completely in contrast with the way he was roughly fucking up into you. You’re both growing more sloppy, more desperate, chasing your respective highs.

“I - I love you,” you whisper.

That’s enough for both of you. You snap, throwing your head back and screaming as you squeeze and convulse around him. You’re seeing stars, the warmth spreading through you and your orgasm hits your like a train.

Steve follows a second behind, cock twitching and spilling into you as he cries out your name like a prayer, mumbling sweet nothings into your skin as you slow your rhythm, riding out your orgasms together. His hips stutter, then still, only the sounds of your rapid breathing and racing hearts to accompany you.

He still has his arms wrapped around you, chests flush to each other. Steve starts pressing gentle, open-mouthed kisses along your shoulder, his hand slowly rubbing your back. Neither of you say anything, not for a while - the wind howls outside, the snow falling a bit more now.

Eventually, he starts to soften in you, and you pull yourself off, clambering to the other side of the bed. He wordlessly reaches for the unmade comforter and pulls it over you both, noting the goosebumps forming on your skin.

You both just lay there, side-by-side, staring at the ceiling as you wait for your breathing to return to normal. It’s him who finally breaks the silence, because it always is.

“That was -”

“-amazing,” you finish breathlessly, turning your head on the pillow towards him. It’s a tiny bed, and you’re practically nose-to-nose. He’s smiling softly, still blissed-out from what happened only moments ago.

“So… what you said,” he says quietly. “Did you mean it? Like, really mean it?”

And he looks terrified, like your answer might break him, and it makes you want to cry. You want to crack open your chest and draw him inside, keeping him safe right next to your heart. You reach across and gently brush your fingers along his face, ghosting over his cheek and jaw.

“Yes,” you whispered. “Of course I did. I think I have for a long time, Steve.”

His face crumbles, and he sighs with relief, turning up to kiss your palm.

“Did you?” you ask, anxiety creeping into your chest. You’re not even sure if he remembers when he said it last year. He looks confused, but only for a moment.

“Wait - did I - I did, didn’t I?” he says, shaking his head incredulously.

“When I said that, I - it was in the moment, and I almost swore I didn’t - I’ve played that moment, that entire night, in my head almost every day. And - and never knew for sure if I actually said what I felt.”

You feel your heart flutter, your stomach doing somersaults.

“So - you meant it?” you ask cautiously.

He smiles again, big and wide, and gently presses his lips to yours.

“Yes,” he breathes. “I’ve loved you as long as I’ve known you. I was just waiting for you to catch up.”

“Since we were five?” you ask, feeling like the wind has been knocked from your lungs. He just nods. You nuzzle your nose into his, and softly whisper, “Well, I love you too, Steve Harrington.”

LATER, WINTER 1989

It’s loud, warm with bodies, and hazy from smoke - you make you way through the crowd, drink in-hand. You glance at the clock - it’s 11:57, where is he -

“Hey you!” a voice shouts. You laugh as RObin slings her arm around you, pressing a sloppy kiss to your cheek.

“Hey!” you laugh, pulling her close into a side hug. “Where’ve you been?” 

“Well, I was talking to Nancy, but there’s only so much canoodling with Jonathan that I can handle.”

You chuckle, glancing over at where the couple stands in the corner, practically devouring each other.

“Well, where’s Vickie?” you ask, searching over the crowded living room.

“She went to get more champagne, but I don’t - oh! Look, they found each other!”

You follow her gaze, and settle on Robin’s redheaded girlfriend - talking to Steve. You relax at the sight of him, even though he had been by your side only a few minutes ago. He smiles when you spots you, holding out an arm to wrap around you as you sidle up to him.

“Hi,” he says softly, quietly enough that you hardly hear him over the music. 

“Hey, you,” you reply, earning a kiss on the crown of your head.

“Is it almost time?” you ask. Robin glances at her watch, and practically jumps.

“Oh, gosh, yeah! Okay, everyone!” she shouts, scrambling to stand on a chair. Most of the room directs their attention to her, raising their glasses and letting out a few whoops and cheers.

“Alright people, grab someone pretty, make a few resolutions - and say goodbye to the 80s!”

Everyone cheers, and Robin looks down at her wrist again.

“Okay! Ten! Nine -”

Steve pulls you close by your waist, gazing down at you like you’re his whole world. Though, you know that there’s a good chance it’s true. He brushes your hair to the side, and whispers, “Ready for 1990?”

You know what promises the new year will bring - you, starting your full-time job in New York, in the apartment that you and Steve are getting together, with the promise of always coming back to Hawkins for the holidays. A life, that you’re building together, after so many years of dancing around it. It makes sense that you’ve ended up here, ringing in a new decade after being a part of each other’s lives for nearly as long as you’ve known.

“Five! Four! Three -”

You grin, bringing your hand to the nape of his neck.

“As long as it’s you and me, Harrington.”

“ONE! HAPPY NEW YEAR!” Robin screams, followed by a series of applause and cheers.

Steve meets you halfway, and kisses you like he always does, enough that you melt into him like you’ll die if you aren’t attached to him. There’s no need to run anymore. Because, as long as you’re with Steve, you’re home.

Author’s note: well, that’s the end of TTDS. I’m sorry for the wait, but I hope it was worth it! I’m diving into my new Steve series next, and working through my inbox for some blurb requests. But, if you’d like to request prompts/blurbs based on this story, I’d be happy to do that - I think it’s be fun to see other scenes from throughout or after the events of this story. I appreciate every like, reblog, comment, and message - I read every single one. Let me know what you think of the story! Merry Christmas to all who celebrate, and I’ll see y’all in the new year!

Taglist: @cityofidek @decadentwastelandtrash @fallingwithoutcaution @selfdeprecatingnerd @scream-still-screaming @le-who-zer-her @freezaz123 @andrewgarfieldsupremecy @shireentapestry @divinelovers @thatstoomuchman @buckleysbitch @evansflowers @untoldshortsofthefandoms @godcreatoreli @hotelfohn @thesillynonsense @itsfloorcry @dullsocietyy @draynmelol @the-winter-spider @suniloli @livid-euphoria @iknowrocknroll @tsundere-exe @palmtreesx3 @boxofsmittens @bradleysgirl @etherealforever234 @jxackles

[haveyoubeentothiscity]

I was a bit concerned by the "haven't heard of these places" percentage about rather popular European cities (I'm thinking about Bilbao, Como, Leipzig and Namur in peculiar) before I realized that there are USAmerican cities people seem to know (I know most but there are maybe three I don't think I've ever heard of) that I don't remember having heard about so my guess is most voters are USAmericans and that makes sense they're better at remembering places close to them, the way I know much more about European geography than theirs

Also not impressed by the percentage when it's about Latin American cities or African ones. La Paz is a capital city. Lagos and Kinshasa are ones of the most (I think the most but that'd need double checking) populated African cities.

Look, this isn't a personal criticism. I've no doubt the educative system failed many and that it's important for USAmericans to learn a lot about their country, probably much more stuff than European countries require their students to know about other European states. I'd get why it'd take center stage in geography class.

Personally, I hated my geography classes and had never been brilliant at it but it's important to know that kind of stuff and you can still inform yourself about it now that you're no longer in class

I think you’re right about this being partly about the geography of your own continent being more familiar. The demographics poll I posted last week suggests a little less than half of voters are from North America (probably mostly the US, although Canada does well in the submissions too).

While I’m a little hesitant to use not recognizing a city’s name as a metric for ignorance, the US does have a serious problem with neglecting Latin America, Asia, and Africa in education. A focus on US history makes sense, but after a leaving Ancient Egypt, the “world” history classes I took focused almost entirely on Europe. It is a failure and it leads to lack of familiarity and some serious misconceptions about these places.

That being said, I tried to pick language for the “haven’t heard of this city before” option that is neutral. If you haven’t heard of some of these cities before, well, now you have! I’ve definitely learned many new names through doing this, and while I don’t read up on every city I post, it’s been a delight to learn more about a few.

[your-queer-dad]

parents and school and everything is getting a hell of a lot more dangerous for me way fast I’m trans in Florida with a fuck ton of disorders I send stuff here to vent a lot never sign my shit so you probably don’t recognize me by my situation or typing cause a lot of people here vent about similar stuff but I said before things are dangerous I don’t have safe spaces or people but there’s this new kid in class and our schools hella bigoted the kids were joking about nazi shit again and this guy was like dude why are y’all so racist and stuff and it was such a shock hearing someone else say somethin when I first went to this school I tired reporting kids and talking to them and explaining etc nothing worked they don’t care teachers are worse then the kids etc and I got rlly nervous about it cause I get assaulted and bullied alot and they all made fun of me and said I was paranoid it’s just jokes I have my head up my ass and I’m like truamadumping by explaining why bigotry is bad not even using my experiences!! so after a couple months I stopped talking but this one new guy just completely called it out in the smoothest way possible and then when everyone tried making excuses he was like nah that’s stupid actually anyway my parents are getting more dangrous and I’m struggling with my health and trying to get them to actually make appointments with the fucking doctors so my medical shit doesn’t catch up to me and mess me up more and I still don’t have a job or drivers license I’m seventeen trying to get hours for the license and trying to get medically ok enough to put effort towards the hours and a job and getting my homework done that a whole thing I’m in so many classes this year and it’s to much work and the classes are at the same time so no matter what I have to miss a lesson etc anyway I’m so stressed everything’s going to shit basically but this one kid is nice lowkey and mentally I’m doing better I used to be a lot worse due to stress but I stop blaming myself and proriize my health and manage to make things slightly better with my routine by fighting for years with my parents and it finally paid off sort of it’s really weird now things are so much more dangerous and I’m the most scared ever but also mentally clear the most I’ve ever been I can actually feel lonely and hungry and thirsty and process the emotions I couldn’t do that before and I’m in less pain generally my plans are paying off years and years of planning and working and just like locking in and trusting my gut no matter what anyone does to me I’m happy I was right I would eventually meet someone who wasn’t racist and I did and even if things are more dangerous now and everything’s gone to shit at school and home I have what I need to really flip shit around I just need to rest and get a little more energy to pull it off

also there’s a whole thing with like my parents putting me in situations wheee they knew I’d get hurt and assaulted then they leave me to it I’ve almost died a lot because of medical neglect I need to be like not put through extreme stress assaults intense sports and getting threatened to get killed and etc but hey that never stopped them new schools new intense extra curriculars with people who hurt me in every kind of way and leave me to die being put in places that work against my mental disorders leaving me to fail and then blaming me when it happens or when I try to get out or talk my way out or go to the bathroom so I can calm down from panic attacks and getting ducking assaulted just to be followed in the bathroom and assaulted there to :/ and when I tell my parents I get hit with the “well high school is hard for everyone” not even a full talk just that sentence then I get ignored again also I’ve also been assaulted by my parents so that’s fun/sarcastic “but it’s ok because it’s just family and just roughhousing and just a joke and no one means anything by it this is just what family family is allowed to get touchy does but don’t tell anyone because you know how people are” it really is the home stretch now everything I’ve worked for is paying off and I have the tools to get what u need to leave and get support I just need to stick it out and figure out the specifics and then actually go do it things feel weird physically and mentally I’m dissociating less so I process more and by body feels all different I feel emotional when people are mean to me and lonely to and there’s so much but also when I hit my limit I can’t tell because it doesn’t hurt like before cause I’m not like fatally fucked over anymore it’s weird

anyway I love you dude you’ve really helped being listened to is hella validating thanks dad 🫂

Hey kiddo, gosh I am so so sorry you have to go through all of that. That's awful and you don't deserve any of that. You don't deserve to be treated like that, by your classmates or your parents. And I wish I could take all that pain away from you. I know it sounds cliche but I promise you things will get better. You're seventeen, you're almost there I promise you please hang on til it gets better. There is hope and you deserve all the hope and happiness in the world. 🫂🫂🫂

- dad x

[daecheonsa]

»━━› OHJANG ENTERTAINMENT TO UNVEAL NEW BOY GROUP VIA DOCUMENTARY SERIES. September 3rd, 2024. Written by Jang Hyeko.

Once considered the paragon of the genre, in recent years Ohjang Entertainment has been left in the dust by once-rival companies like Pantheon Entertainment and Valentine Records. Since the disbandment of their only active group Bouquet in 2021, who had infamously struggled to carve out a place for themselves in the new generation of idols, Ohjang have neglected to produce any more acts, and most have been passively waiting for the news of a quiet buy-out.

Last year, however, the label showcased six male trainees in a YouTube video, simply entitled “WARRIOR (LIVE PERFORMANCE VIDEO).” With no information left in the description beyond the caption ‘god saved the damned,’ netizens set out to identify the six boys in the video, but nobody could be sure that they would ever debut together, or if the performance was just a one-off showcase of Ohjang’s trainees. As the months ticked by with no further word from the label, many moved on or simply forgot about the video, and the moderate interest in a potential new Ohjang boy group slowly fizzled out.

And so it was to the surprise of many when, today, the label announced on their official X account that they’d be revealing the previously seen “WARRIOR team” through a three-part docuseries, to be uploaded on the label’s official YouTube channel. Entitled ‘GOD SAVE THE DAMNED,’ the series will act as precursor to the as-of-yet unnamed group’s debut; documenting the formation of the group, as well as the ‘training process that prepared them for the stage and the harsh realities of the industry.’

The docuseries will be released in three episodes, the first of which set to go live later in the month.

COMMENTS.

tachikawaz said: SHOGO DEBUT WE WON!!!!!!!!!

amfhdf said: is this engagement bait? it’s seriously gonna be called ‘god saved the damned’??????

- minjidefender replied: at least they have realistic expectations for this group

jstagrlwholovesHERO said: war flashbacks to spending eight hours scouring the internet to find the link to kijung’s lost mixtapes only to be rewarded with some of the most ass music i’ve ever heard in my life

- kijungggggggggg replied: says a fan of the poet who brought you such awe-inspiring lyrics as "yaaaaaaho... yaho!"

- jstagrlwholovesHERO replied: talk about ikumi again and i'll seriously [ ... the rest of this comment has been hidden due to reports of graphic and extreme threats of violence. show comment? ]

musicluvr1993 said: isn’t this the group that na younghwa’s son is part of???? LMAO

- minjidefender replied: the whole lineup was picked by a crazy person... i'm seated for sasung and shogo though

- ssassungss replied: did anyone ever find out who the other boy was?

- minjidefender replied: guess we’re about to!

ohjangno1hater said: god save them indeed

harinsflatass said: love them for putting the youtube logo on there like it's some collaboration and not just them uploading videos to their youtube channel like anyone is free to do

whereissongtaejun said: why did i just assume ohjang had gone bankrupt or something… have they even done anything since bouquet?

- elizanator replied: nope last we heard they were looking to be bought over. this whole group was probably made in a fit of rage after valentine got liz lol

- whereissongtaejun replied: who tf is liz .

cairoislowtone said: YONGHYUNG I’M GONNA GET YOU OUT OF THERE

- minjidefender replied: girl i love you but your fav is in the only group with a messier lineup than this one... worry about cairo!

- cairoslowtone replied: all i do is worry about cairo hence why i'd like to see at least one nextup boy not be set up to fail

- minjidefender replied: i fear yonghyung was never gonna be the one to break that curse... his setup started ON the show

[thasorns-moved]

tag game ✨

I got tagged a long time ago by a mutual who went private... it's friday night and look at that I HAVE some time to do it :)

1. why did you choose your url?

just look at Emi and then we can talk again. Have you seen her? <3

2. any sideblogs? if you have them name them and why you have them.

juhotonin - is a kpop blog (even though I neglected it a bit)

alexreggies - yes, sometimes I reblog different things on this (thasorns) blog but this one is specifically for western things

kaiosmichiru - anime

I have another one where I only post gifs but never told anyone about it

3. how long have you been on tumblr?

probably since 2009. I used to have another blog but moved to my current one in 2012

4. do you have a queue tag?

used to have # queue to my life, # queueing things bc its quarantine things but now I'm just using q. bc I’ve become lazy

5. why did you start your blog in the first place?

before this blog I was a dedicated fanblog about marko marin and sideblog was very multifandom and then I moved and stayed multifandom 

6. why did you choose your icon/pfp?

buttercup is THE mvp

7. why did you choose your header?

a tale of thousand stars do I need to say more (if you didn't watched it, THEN WHAT ARE YOU DOING WITH YOUR LIFE)

8. what’s your post with the most notes?

this, mind that I was a beginner in gif making and you can see that in this 

9. how many mutuals do you have?

maybe I forgot one or two but the last count was 79 love you all 💕

10. how many followers do you have?

 more than i would expect and deserve but I appreciate every each one of you 🥰

11. how many people do you follow?

I'm surprised that after 12 years I don't follow more but I also go on a unfollow spree sometime anyway it's 372 people

12. have you ever made a shitpost?

no. don't think so. I used to say a lot about shows I watch. does this count as a shitpost? Idk

13. how often do you use tumblr each day?

is that really a question? like? every day

14. did you have a fight/argument with another blog once?

no i'm staying in my bubble and be happy

15. how do you feel about ‘you need to reblog this’ posts

i dont do it to be oppositional 

16. do you like tag games?

even though I try to participate as much as I can and not forgot about it I'll do it because they're fun and it's nice to see other perspectives or opinions on things

17. do you like ask games?

I rarely do it because I think no one would send me asks

18. which of your mutuals do you think is tumblr famous?

the first which comes to mind is sabrina @moonkhao

19. do you have a crush on a mutual?

what does crush even mean?

claire @clairedaring @poomphuripan is such a cutie. The way she does so much for the msi community but at the same time highlights other lakorns and find the strength and time to gif it, so other ppl on here could watch it. always so nice and patient ❤️

an honorable mention: cata @kittychicha because I would've never thought that we would become friends and talk on a regular basis about everything and it is fun and lovely to talk with you and get to know you 🧡

Another honorable mention would be vish @morkofday because have you met her? Her mind is already enough. The way she thinks and sees things in perspectives - a reason to fall in love. Not even joking. Our dead friend forever days were precious for me 💕

20. tags?

@morkofday @itsallaboutbl @clairedaring @pondsphuwin @patchanons @milkpansa @kittychicha @jimmysea @loveisactivated

[dreamii-yume]

I’ve been obsessed with the classic Teacher/Student trope lately, I think the Hentii ASMR is getting to me—But like they were cooking with the Yandere-Menhera-Student-Obsessed-With-Their-Teacher trope???🧎‍♀️

Have I talked about this before? Have I wrote a fic about this before? I’m sorry if I did, I don’t have a very good memory—But I’ve always been a fan of the age gap trope in Yandere fics, because it will almost always lead to the Yandere having some sort of unresolved Daddy/Mommy issues that only their Teachers could “solve” lol

Imagine your typical quiet kid—Everyone labels them as the weird kid, has absolutely no social presence, and even bullying them isn’t even worth it, so they’re alone most of the time. They don’t do bad at school, but not very well either, they’re almost invisible in terms of everything else. As the kind teacher that you are, you wondered if there’s anything you could do for them, to maybe help improve their student life. Maybe there’s some things going on back at home that you can maybe help out with…So, you called them to talk to you after school, like some sort of counseling session where you hoped that they could talk to you a little.

They’re very difficult to open up, mostly answers your question with a simple yes or a no—Most of the time, they’d just shake or nod their head. They’re not very vocal about what they want, but it’s clear that something is bothering them, they just don’t want to tell you. Obviously, they’re on their guard, they don’t trust you just yet.

So, you swore to them with a smile as honest as the sun that everything they tell you would be confidential, that no one will be hearing about it but you. You also gave them the option to not talk if they really don’t want to, it’s not like you wanted to pressure them after all—You just wanted them to know that you see them and their struggles, and wanted them to know that they have you as an option to come and talk with if something is truly wrong.

Because of this, they considered talking more, sitting down and finding their momentum to tell you some things about themselves and their worries. Most of the time it’s a family issue, maybe an abusive or neglectful household that forced them to close themselves off the world. But that alone tells you one thing as a teacher and it’s that they’re just really lonely—It’s sad to see a student of yours suffer in silence like this, so you offer them your shoulder. You told them that you have their backs whenever they need it, and you’ll try your best to help out.

It took a while, but you’ve reached a point where they began to trust you and you see improvements in them as a result of that. You’ve come to learn that they enjoyed getting praised, probably because it’s something that they rarely ever got growing up. They’ve become more active in class because of this, you’d reward them with a pat on the head and smile, saying “Good job! Keep it up!” and that would be enough to make them happy. During class, they would raise their hand more often, answering your questions in hopes that if you they get them right, you’ll do the same thing. It’s like…training a dog almost.

You were glad that his grades and mood are improving, the students in class are slowly starting to accept him too. It’s a joy for any teacher to know that they’ve contributed to this kind of development towards what most people call a “lost cause of a student”. But it’s because you believed that they’re not that you could truly enjoy seeing them flourish kike this.

But along with academical development, you wished they’d be more involved with the other students too, since others have been talking to them lately. But perhaps, maybe old habits die hard when they’d reject all their offers of friendship and clubs to go straight to your office after class. You didn’t mind it at first, since you were the one who offered your services to them in the first place, but sometimes you couldn’t help but wonder if this was all a good idea. Should they make visiting you after school a habit? You don’t want to make it seem like you’re forcing them to be here.

But they just seem so happy to be hanging out with you, talking and occassionally helping you out with paper works. It’s not like there was anything necessarily wrong for what he was doing either, but you would’ve preferred if they would’ve use this free time to make friends other than yourself! They told you once that the reason that they visit you here after school, other than spending time with you, is because they don’t feel like going home yet—And knowing his troubled household, how can you say anything against that?

“Friends…? Why would I need others when I already have you, Teacher?”

That was the first time you realized something was wrong with them, that along with their positive improvements, lies a deep, dark mindset forming in their brains. They’re attached to you in the worse way possible, and your heart dropped upon realizing it too late. In make sense if you really think about it—No one had ever given them a chance before, no one made an effort to understand them better but you. Of course they wouldn’t want to interact with the people who never even spare them a glance before, and now, all the attention he has would be all for you…You, their teacher, who gave them the love and validation they always wanted from someone.

But that’s not right. It’s morally incorrect…But seeing him right now, you don’t have it in you to break their heart. Especially when you were the one who gave him this hope in the first place.

Honestly, you should’ve seen this coming from way before, the signs were already there. Especially when one time, they whispered to themselves of how nice it would’ve been if they were born as your child instead. Maybe then, they would’ve felt what it’s like to be properly loved at such a young age. Maybe then, they would’ve been a lot more happier and not end up this way—You ended up taking this as a compliment before, and thanked them instead for thinking that way about you. You never thought they meant it a different way.

You treat your students equally without showing signs of favoritism with anyone, but this Yandere Student seemed to have deluded themselves into thinking that they’re your special ones. So, when they see you acting the same cheerful way with another student, their jealousy is unbearable. They’d confront you about it in private, practically on the verge of tears as they claim to not understand why you can’t be their one emotional-support teacher, and not share you with others. They say that they are willing to be yours and only yours, so why can’t you do the same for them?

They refuse to let go of you, physically and emotionally—Even going as far as to threaten to harm themselves if you even dare to abandon them. As a teacher, you are horrified of the thought, and is forced to comfort them about their delusions, swearing that you won’t go anywhere and that you’ll always take care of them—As long they don’t do all those reckless stuff, just be a good student.

Your Yandere Student is too mentally unstable to understand that you’re just saying all that to calm them down, so they’re happy as they hug you tight. They make you promise that even after they graduate, you’ll stay with them forever, right? They don’t need other people’s love but yours, and they’ll make it so that you wouldn’t need others love but theirs too.

You are going to take responsibility for the hungry monster that you created out of them, Teacher.

♥︎♥︎♥︎♥︎♥︎

I have more ideas to share about different types of Yandere Students! I just want to really share this one in particular, because I can’t be the only who really loves the menhera trope, right?

…Right!?

[weepingfromacedartree]

Surviving the AO3 Drought

Hi friends!

We're coming up on almost an entire day of AO3 being down. Since I'm sure most of you are like me and going insaneee with the blackout, I wanted to share this incredibly ROUGH draft of chap 1 of my current Polin WIP for anyone desperate for content.

A few warnings:

This fic is nowhere NEAR being done (emphasis on this being a ROUGH draft). It will most likely be a few months until I start posting the finished chapters.

This chapter (and the fic in general) deals with issues like grief and neglectful parenting, so TW for anyone who might not want to read about that.

Most of this chapter depicts Penelope and Colin as children. It was annoying to write. Might be annoying to read. I promise, they're teens/adults in all future chapters.

I do not condone children taking in stray cats and keeping them as pets. This fic is not meant to be a tutorial of any sort.

Ok if I didn't scare you off... please enjoy!!

Chapter 1: First Pet

Today: April 29th, 2023

Relationship Status: Dating (Semi-Secretly)

꙳

“Gregory just texted to ask if we’re dating. I didn’t think he had my number.” 

“That little arsehole probably sent it to himself when he stole my phone.”

It’s Saturday. Penelope and Colin are sitting on the floor of his flat, a few containers of chinese food littered between them. It’s not a particularly unusual setting to find either one of them on a Saturday night. However, some things are different now. 

Two weeks ago, they would not have been playing footsie. Not this shamelessly, at least. 

“I assumed that Eloise’s ‘vow of secrecy’ would involve her immediately telling Benedict… And that Benedict would tell Anthony… And that Anthony would tell Kate… But I don’t know how the rumour managed to spread to Cambridge in…” She glances down to her phone again. “Six hours flat.” 

“‘Rumour?’” he echos, a smirk on his face. “Surely, you’re not trying to keep this sordid love affair hidden from me as well.”

“‘Sordid?’ God, Colin. You make us sound so dirty.” She kicks his foot away, turning her attention back to the shrimp fried rice. “And I’m not trying to keep it from anyone. We both knew what would happen the second I told El.” 

“Frankly, I’m surprised Greg didn’t text you sooner.”

Colin tries fixing his attention on the kung pao chicken in hand, but it unsurprisingly wanders. 

“So… What are you gonna tell him?” 

Penelope quirks an eyebrow, a look of uncertainty making a quick appearance on her face. 

“Well… I was going to hold him in suspense a little while longer. Maybe take the ‘no comment’ approach at first. Then — I don’t know — the truth?”

“Which is?”

Colin watches as uncertainty turns to downright confusion. 

“Yes?”

Internally, Penelope wonders if Colin is teasing, or if there has been a miscommunication of monumental proportions between them. The look on his face confounds her, though. Neither option seems to be the correct one. 

“‘Dating’ is a bit too casual a word for us, I think.” 

Penelope’s confusion fades away as a familiar tingling sensation lights up her stomach. 

“It’s only been a week. What do you suggest we call —”

“We should get married.” 

“What!?”

He’s teasing. He’s teasing. He’s —

“I said we should get married.” 

Penelope waits for him to expand on this insane notion, but all she gets is that smug little smirk. 

“Okay. Why?”

“Why does anyone get married?” Colin says matter-of-factly. “I love you. I wish to continue loving you forever and ever. Ergo, marriage.” 

“This isn’t funny.” 

“It wasn’t a joke.”

“It —”

“It was a proposal.”

“Colin.” She uses the sternest voice she can manage to muster up, which happens to be quite shrill at the moment. 

“Pen.” At least he has the decency to drop that stupid smirk. He also drops his kung pao chicken, leaning forward to place a hand on her knee. 

“Just, think about it for a moment. We didn’t meet a week ago, we just finally said the thing we should have told each other a decade ago — at least. I’ve been in love with you forever. ‘Dating’ you just feels like an unnecessary step to the rest of forever.” 

Penelope feels at war with herself. At her core, she is sensible. Logical. Reasonable. She knows — objectively — that skipping straight from friendship to marriage is illogical and senseless. 

But is it truly reasonless?

At her core, Penelope is also a romantic. A willing fool. An idealist against her better judgement. And in her heart, she holds twenty years worth of love for Colin. Would it really be so crazy —

Shaking her head ever so slightly, Penelope tentatively — regretfully — brushes his hand off her knee. At the loss of her touch, Colin’s lip juts out in a pout. 

“People date for a reason. It’s an institution — it has a purpose. It’s like a test run for marriage. Different than friendship. Teaches you different things about a person — things that set you up for a successful lifetime together.” 

“Friendship is not so different than dating. At least, not the way we did it.” 

“Colin —”

“You’re right, Pen. Dating is like a trial period where you decide whether or not the person you love is suitable enough to spend the next lifetime beside. You —”

“Do I really sound that unromantic?” she interrupts. Something about hearing her words on his lips makes them sound so clear. 

Colin laughs. “I think pragmatic is the word you’re looking for. But seriously, can you name a single thing you don’t know or feel unsure about me as a partner, after twenty years of friendship? What’s holding you back, Pen?”

Nothing. That’s the truth. There’s not a single thing about Colin that she feels unsure of. Not anymore.

But still… Even if there love has lasted decades, that sense of assuredness has only existed between them for a week. She’s spent more time wrestling on whether or not to cut bangs (and the answer always ends up being not). 

Still…

“Let’s consult the experts.” His words break her from the daze Penelope hadn’t realised she fell into. In those few measly seconds, Colin’s eyes broke away from hers and has rested on the phone gripped in both of his hands. 

“What are you doing?” she asks him. Her voice sounds far away. 

Colin taps something on his phone, out of view from Penelope’s curious eyes. Then he clears his throat. 

“Ten milestones every couple should celebrate before walking down the aisle,” he reads aloud. “Number One: Your First —”

“What are you doing?” Penelope asks again. This time, a laugh escapes her lips as she does so. Something about the seriousness on Colin’s face reminds her of the absolute absurdity of this situation. That it is a joke, even if it was intended as such. 

“I know you think this is all very funny, but I’m being serious. I know you better than anyone else in the world — you know me better than I know myself! I have loved you more than half my life and spent so much time delaying the inevitable. Why waste any more of our time by ‘dating’ one another? It just seems silly.” 

Colin stops ranting briefly, as if to allow Penelope to get her rebuttal in before he has the chance to make his point. When she stays silent, she can’t help but notice a hint of a smile crawl back up his otherwise serious face. 

“And while I know the romantic in you is buzzing to say yes and run down to city hall right now, I know the realist in you needs some convincing.” He briefly holds up his phone to display the article he pulled up. “So we will go through this list, which details everything you need to accomplish during the dating stage of a relationship. If, at the end, we realise that we checked off every single to-do item while we were still just friends, we will make the reasonable decision to get married.” 

If there’s one thing Charming Colin Bridgerton can do, it’s make a convincing argument. The realistic and romantic on each of Penelope’s shoulders suddenly go quiet.

“And where exactly did you find this scholarly article you are basing such a life-altering decision on?” 

He looks down. 

“TheMarriageExpert.blogspot.com” 

“Colin!” 

“They’re an expert, Pen!” 

After her giggles finally let up, Penelope sighs. He has convinced her to play more tedious games before…

“Fine. You have yourself a deal, Bridgerton. What’s first on that list of yours?” 

Finally, that serious expression on his face drops completely. He grins at her in that way that always makes Penelope’s heart skip a beat. 

“Number One: Your First Pet As a Couple,” he reads aloud. “During the course of your marriage, you and your partner will come to share many things together. Finances, homes, memories, and a million other things you cannot even begin to fathom now. A pet will help you prepare for those shared responsibilities. It will teach you both about the importance of…”

As Colin continues reading, a frown pulls at the tips of Penelope’s lips. When he finishes, she attempts to cover her disappointment with a shallow laugh. 

“Game over, I guess.” 

His eyebrow arches. “Pardon?” 

“We’ve never shared a pet, so…”

Colin’s mouth falls open. He pulls his free hand to his chest, underscoring the aghast look on his face. 

“Pen… Did Mr. Whiskers mean nothing to you?”

-------------------------------------------------------

Twenty Years Earlier: July 21st, 2003

Relationship Status: Sister’s Best Friend // Best Friend’s Brother

꙳

How did I get here again?

It’s Monday. The first real day of summer holiday. For most kids, that means the start of freedom. Six weeks of fun, followed by real life crashing down on them when the fall term begins. But for Penelope, it means the loss of structure. For six weeks, it is up to her to determine how — and more importantly, where — she spends her time. 

She didn’t want to spend it at home. Not this morning, at least. So she went to Grosvenor Square. 

At just eight years old, there aren’t many places Penelope can run off to unaccompanied. Even the Square, just two blocks away from her home, is hard to get away with. Her mum only allowed it because she was under the impression that Eloise would be joining her — that between Penelope’s sense and Eloise’s toughness, the two girls would be safe in the nearby park. But when Penelope ran across the street, she learned from Anthony that Eloise was not available for a morning stroll in the square. 

She could have just gone back home, but she really, really didn’t want to. So she went to Grosvenor Square. Alone. 

She was walking around the park, careful not to step on any cracks in the concrete. She moved to the grass when she realised that everyone was walking around her (even for an eight-year-old, her legs are rather short); she did not want to pull too much attention to herself and have someone question where her parents are. 

She was listening. To the birds chirping. To the nearby traffic. Mostly, to the people. 

Two teenagers were fighting. She was mad, he was sorry. She said something about him cheating, but after that, their shouts turned to whispers and Penelope couldn’t make out the rest. She wondered what type of exam he could have cheated on.

A little white dog barked at her. His owner looked apologetic. 

A neighbour of hers walked past her, pushing a stroller. Penelope thought about hiding behind the nearest tree, certain that Mrs. Abernathy would notice her and say something. Thankfully though, the baby started crying and distracted her. 

Just as Penelope was about to turn the corner and listen into the couple’s fight again, she had heard something different. 

“Meow.”

She thought her mind was playing tricks on her, but when she walked over to the nearest bush to investigate, a two giant blue eyes stared back at her. 

Oh, right. 

Penelope looks down at the kitten currently sleeping in her arms. 

He had white fur with little patches of black around his ears and nose. His whiskers were long — so long that they didn’t look like they were placed on the right cat. He was so small and scrawny — Penelope couldn’t tell if he was actually a kitten, or just a cat who spent too much time with too little food in his stomach. 

Without a collar or any family in sight (she had spent over an hour looking for them), Penelope decided to take him home. She spent 20 minutes taking the 10-minute walk home. She slowed her steps. She took unnecessary turns and waited too long before crossing crosswalks. She held the kitten tightly to her chest, shielded slightly by the nest she made out of her yellow cardigan. She practised what she would say to her mum. 

“Penelope. Anne. Featherington. Get that rodent out of my house!” 

It had not gone well. Although, even before she landed back on the front steps of her home, Penelope had suspected that there was nothing she could say that could convince her mum to let them keep him. 

She followed her mother’s instructions, fleeing from her house with the kitten in hand. Penelope didn’t have much of a plan once she hit the pavement outside, but like they so often do, she found her feet walking in the direction of the home across the street. But they stopped before they could reach it. 

Ever since Mr. Bridgerton died last summer, Penelope’s mum had warned her about showing up at their house unannounced. There are eight fatherless children in that house now — the youngest of which never even got to meet her father. They have enough going on as it is. 

They have enough going on as it is, she repeats again and again. 

That’s how she got here. Sitting on the edge of the pavement outside the Bridgerton household, a cat sleeping soundly in her lap. 

“It’s gonna be okay, buddy,” she tells him. She wonders if the kitten can sense the hesitance in her voice. 

Silently, Penelope wonders what the right thing to do is. Where the right place to go is. The first place she thinks of is an animal shelter. Surely, that is the most logical place to bring a lost kitten to. They would know how to take care of him, how to find him a home with people who want him. The only problem is that Penelope does not know of any actual animal shelters in Mayfair.

The second place she thinks of is the fire station down the street. Firefighters save cats, don’t they? Or was that —

“Pen?” 

Colin, her mind registers before she even has the chance to turn around. When she finally does, she attempts to smile, while also shielding the contraband from his view. Colin, in turn, throws her his usual smile — bright and true. The one that always manages to make Penelope’s stomach flip over inside herself. It does so now, even with the fresh sting of disappointment still welling up inside her. 

“Oh, hi. Sorry, I didn’t mean to —” 

“What’s that?” he asks, nodding to the kitten she clearly failed at hiding away from him. Before she has the chance to answer, he sits down beside her on the curb.

“I found him in Grosvenor Square. He was all alone and I didn’t know where else to go…” Her voice trails off, once again contemplating what a responsible person would do next in this situation. 

“You gonna keep him?”

“No.” Disappointment is evident in her voice. “Mum won’t let me. She hates cats.” 

Penelope takes her eyes off the kitten to look up at Colin. While only two years older that her, he stands nearly a head above her (he’s tall for his age — she’s short for her’s). Even sitting, she has to tilt her head up just to look him in the eyes. As usual, his brown mop of a haircut hangs so low that it covers his eyes somewhat, but Penelope can still see the blue-green colour peaking through. She’s always quite liked that colour. 

Colin tilts towards her a few inches, then raises his hand to gently pet the kitten’s head. “I’d take him, but mum and Daph are both allergic.” 

Penelope can feel her eyes go wide. Mr. Bridgerton was allergic to hornets…

“Not that kind of allergic,” he reassures her, seemingly reading her mind. “They won’t, like, die or anything. Their skin will just get all red and scratchy if he gets anywhere near them.” 

“Oh — sorry. I should just go.” Pulling the kitten out of Colin’s grasp, Penelope stands. She starts to turn away from him, but is once again reminded that she has no idea where she is supposed to go. 

“Wait — no. Where are you gonna take him?”

“I don’t know,” she admits. “Where are you supposed to take stray cats?” 

He shrugs. “I dunno.” 

“Okay. I —”

“But I have an idea.” 

꙳ ꙳ ꙳

The Bridgertons live on a gold mine. Metaphorically. Literally, they live on nearly an acre of land in the middle of Mayfair. Their back garden is massive compared to the neighbours that surround them, a feat that is only possible due to the home being passed down from one Bridgerton to the next for so many generations. That’s the same reason Penelope’s family is still able to reside in the house across the street, but their garden is not nearly as sprawling. 

“Where are we going?” 

She and Colin hadn’t gone through his house, rather, they went around it. Now, he leads her towards the very back of the estate, a few steps ahead, one hand on the wall to their left. His index finger traces the cracks between the stones. 

“Have some patience, Pen.” 

“I — I do.” And she does. Usually. Usually, Penelope is a remarkably patient girl. Well-mannered. Quiet. She usually wears those attributes on her shoulders like a uniform. But for some reason, they tend to slip away from her whenever Colin is near. 

Penelope’s eyes flick right, towards Colin’s family home. It seems purposeful, that they’re walking along the shadows of this wall. 

“Is Eloise home yet?” she asks, for no other reason than to fill the silence between them. Usually, Penelope prefers such silence. But not right now. 

“Uh, no. Ben took her into the city for her, uh… Her doctor appointment. They usually don’t get back until supper time.” 

Out of Colin’s view, she nods. For the past year — ever since Mr. Bridgerton died — Eloise has been seeing a doctor in the city pretty regularly. Penelope’s mum told her to never ask any follow up questions about these visits… but silently, she’s always questioned what type of doctor is able to fix an ailment like heartbreak. 

“Are you doing anything for the summer holiday?” she asks, another attempt to just fill the silence. She already knows the answer. They always travel up to Aubrey Hall for at least a week, this time of year. Always. 

“Nah. Just staying here, I guess.” 

“Oh.” Dread appears suddenly and sits heavily in Penelope’s stomach. Mr. Bridgerton died at Aubrey Hall last August. Of course they’re not eager to return.  “Us too.” 

“Cool. I’ll see you around then.”

She feels her cheeks instantly flush. “Yeah. Cool,” she says, hoping her voice does not expose the growing warmth on her skin. 

Without a word, Colin breaks away from the stone wall beside them and walks towards a particularly dense cluster of trees. When Penelope follows, she finds Colin standing next to something she’s never seen before, despite the many years she’s spent playing with Eloise in this yard. It’s a wooden shed of sorts. It’s wide and just about as tall as Penelope. 

“What is that?” 

“Some old shed. I dunno… I think they used to store firewood in here, back in the olden days.” He kicks open the latch with his foot. “Empty now, though. I don’t think anyone else remembers it’s here.” 

“So…” 

“So, your cat could live here.” 

Penelope looks down. At some point in the last few minutes, she had somehow forgotten the kitten held tightly against her chest. She had forgotten her whole point in being here. 

“Oh! Right. That’s, um…” 

She steals another glance at the shed. It certainly does look like it was last used during the “olden times.” 

“That’s really kind. But how would he — how would that work?” 

“We get him a bed, milk, food… Everything a cat needs to survive.”

Penelope’s brow furrows. “Those things cost money…”

Colin shrugs. “I’ll steal a $20 out of Anthony’s wallet.” A smile erupts on his face when he sees shock overtake Penelope’s. He didn’t know a child could open their mouth that wide. “Kidding — I’ll just tell him I’m sad. He’ll probably hand me a $20 and tell me to go fix my feelings with ice cream.” 

“Oh — okay. But…” Her mind stalls, searching for another flaw in his logic to voice aloud. There are just so many to choose from. “Mum always says we can’t get a pet cause they’re too much responsibility. You have to take care of them, feed them, make sure —” 

“Hey — we’re both very responsible people. I help keep Greg alive, and that kid thinks licking an electrical socket is a fun pastime. If I can do that, keeping a cat alive will be nothing.” 

“So we would, um…” She steals another glance at the shed before them. She can’t help but look at it and see a cage. “We would just lock him in there all day?”

“No!” He says quickly, a bit nervously. “We’ll keep the door open — or I could even cut a cat-sized hole in the side. You know, so he can come and go as he pleases.” 

“But if he’s able to leave that easily… Won’t he get lost again?” 

“No. If I know anything about cats, it’s that if you feed them, they’ll always find their way back to you. And since you found him hanging out in Grosvenor Square, clearly he’s an outside cat, not an inside cat.”

Penelope looks down at the kitten again. His attention has turned away from her; his round eyes dart back and forth wildly as he takes in all the space around them.

“I thought only strays went outside.” 

“No. A cat can have a home and not want to stay cooped up in at all day long.” Colin takes another step towards her. He raises his hand and scratches behind the kitten’s ear, who immediately starts purring. “Clearly, this little badass wants to roam free.” 

Yet again, Penelope can feel her cheeks burn pink. She’s lived in London her entire life, she’s heard words far worse than “badass” a million times before — but never from Colin’s lips. In fact, the two of them had never really been alone like this before. He was her best friend’s brother — a friend of sorts, but tangentially so. He was only ever in Penelope’s company through her friendship with Eloise. She isn’t used to having this much of his attention on her. 

“Here.” After what feels like hours, she pulls the kitten away from her chest and nearly shoves him into Colin’s. “He seems to really like you.” 

“Oh — okay.” Unsurprisingly — and annoyingly quickly — the kitten settles into his arms. Clearly, Colin’s natural charm works on animals just as well as it does on people. 

Colin finally takes his eyes off of hers, turning around to show the kitten what could be his new home. With his gaze finally off her, Penelope’s mind flushes with panic. With words she had brushed off just moments before. Colin offering to spend his own money. To cut a hole in the shed. To take care of the cat, himself. 

He has enough going on as it is. 

Penelope looks up to see Colin setting the tiny creature down in the shed. Then, without much thought, she steps forward and takes the kitten in her arms again. 

“I’m sorry, Colin. I didn’t mean to get you wrapped up in this.” She turns away, pulling the kitten closer into her chest.  “I’ll drop him off that the fire —”

“Pen, stop.” His hand falls on her shoulder, then squeezes it once, gently. Although she is not very experienced in receiving such small physical gestures, Penelope can tell that he meant it to be reassuring. “He’ll be fine here, I promise.” 

She turns slowly. His hand drops. By the time they face each other again, her blush has almost abandoned her cheeks. Almost. 

“Are you sure it’s not too much?” 

He laughs. Genuinely. Kindly. Just as he always does. 

“No.” Gently, Colin pulls the kitten out of her arms again. “How could this little guy ever be ‘too much?’” 

Pushing away all thoughts that scream that this is a bad idea, Penelope pushes her shoulders back. She stands tall (metaphorically, of course). 

“I’ll do half the work — at least. I can check on his bowl every morning. Make sure he has water and food and whatever else he needs. Maybe you can do the same at night. And if you ever can’t, just let me know and I’ll help. And if it ever does become too much, I can find him somewhere else to live.” 

When she finally closes her mouth, Colin’s smile returns. Then, he extends his hand towards her. “You got a deal, Featherington.” 

Tentatively, Penelope raises her hand to seal said deal. But before she can make contact, Colin’s hand moves, as if to signal her to “stop.” 

“Once last thing. We should just keep this whole thing between us, or ya know… Anthony will send both me and the cat to the nearest shelter.” 

“Colin! I —” 

“Kidding!” He laughs again, which has a surprisingly good effect on Penelope’s nerves. “But really… It’s simpler if we don’t tell anyone else. Not even Eloise — she can’t keep a secret for her life.” 

She tilts her head again, stealing a not-so-quick glance at his eyes (through the mop of hair still obscuring that blue-green colour). Since as long as she can remember, Penelope has always wanted more of Colin — in some ways that she will not be able to define with words until she is much older. But even at just eight years old, Penelope knows she wants to be around him. She wants his attention. She wants to share a secret with him. Even if she knows it’s a bad idea. 

“Deal.” With that, Penelope shakes Colin’s hand and seals their fate forever. 

꙳ ꙳ ꙳

August 5th, 2003

꙳

It turned out to be a rather easy secret to keep. 

Penelope was good at staying unseen — at blending into the shadows. Every morning at approximately 7 AM, she snuck into the Bridgerton back garden. And every morning at approximately 7:10 AM, she snuck out without being noticed by anyone other than Colin. Not that has mum or siblings would bat an eye if they happened to find Penelope back there. Before Edmund died and her own mum warned her to keep herself scarce, there were times that Penelope spent more time at the Bridgertons’ home than her own house. And despite Portia’s warnings, they would gladly invite her inside, any day. 

Colin was also quite good at escaping his family’s notice on his own daily task. Every night around dusk, he would sneak into the kitchen or bathroom, fill an 8-ounce bottle with tap water, then hide it in the front pocket of whatever hoodie he happened to be wearing that day. They kept the cat food in the shed, in a locked container Colin bought at the pet store down the street (with money he had stolen from Anthony’s wallet — although he never admitted that he followed through on the theft “joke” to Penelope). The longer time went on, the less effort he put into sneaking out of the house everyday. The longer time went on, the more obvious it became how easy it is to disappear from a house with nine people. Especially when the one person everyone searches for is no longer around. 

The only conspirator that ever put them at risk of being found out was Mr. Whiskers (a name Colin had thought of, after Penelope complained that they couldn’t just keep calling him “little guy.”). Three times in two weeks, Whiskers had loitered around the Bridgerton’s back steps, meowing for attention. Colin had caught him the first time and shooed him off. Daphne caught him the second time and screamed bloody murder. Anthony caught him the third and nearly called animal control, but thankfully, Benedict had stepped in to tell their older brother to “chill out.” Thankfully, Whiskers seemed wary of coming close to the Bridgerton household after that last encounter. 

A routine formed. Penelope would sneak into the garden in the morning. Colin would sneak out of his home at night. Mr. Whiskers would come and go as he pleased between meals. Their paths rarely cross. Until tonight, when Colin spots someone running towards the back of the garden in the moonlight from his bedroom window. 

Someone quite short. 

Less than five minutes later, Colin runs along the same path — far less cautious than he usually is at dusk. He prays his mum or siblings are not watching out their windows like he was his. That they’re asleep — not pacing circles in their rooms in the middle of the night. He knows the risks are there, but the further his feet carry him, the more faraway they feel.

He hears crying in the distance. Quiet, but persistent.

He sees her before she sees him — sitting criss crossed on the entry of the shed, Mr. Whiskers climbing into her lap tentatively. She does not notice him until he is standing but a few feet away. 

Colin had felt distinctly uneasy since the very moment he spotted her in the back garden. But a wave of fear strikes him cold when their eyes meet. Hers go so wide that he swears he can see the moonlight reflect off of them. She does not immediately speak; even her crying goes silent when she realises she is not alone. 

“Pen, what’s wrong? How can I help?” 

“Noth — nothing.” She sounds scared. At least the fearful look in her eye is somewhat obstructed by nightfall. Her words cut clean through the darkness. 

He steps forward, now standing only inches away from her. Instinctively, his hand raises and gently grips her shoulder. He feels her flinch beneath his touch, but not enough to remove herself from it. 

“Pen, whatever it is, you can tell me. I can help.” 

She averts his gaze, focusing intently on the cat still sitting in her lap.

“It’s nothing, really. I — I just wanted to see Mr. Whiskers for a little bit.” 

Colin doesn’t say anything, too busy internally trying to make sense of the words she spills and the worry in her voice. They do not fit together. 

“I’m sorry,” she continues. She uses the back of her hand to wipe at her nose. “I shouldn’t have — I’ll just go.” 

“Don’t go.” Before Penelope can move, Colin squeezes her shoulder again. His mum does the same thing when he gets so upset and that he needs help calming down. 

Slowly, under Colin’s grasp, Penelope’s shoulders stop heaving. Her breath evens out. She meets his eye again.

“What happened?”

“Honestly, nothing.”

“Pen —”

“Nothing that isn’t, like, normal, I mean.” He does not know what she means. He can’t imagine a single normal thing that would cause someone to run away crying from their home in the middle of the night. Especially someone as small and defenceless as Penelope. 

“Mum and dad were just fighting,” she confesses after realising that Colin’s look of concern will not fade unless she tells him the truth. “A bit louder than usual, I guess. But it’s not like I haven’t heard them fight a million times before.” 

“That’s —” Not normal. But he doesn’t say that. He can’t say that. He’s suddenly — alarmingly — struck by the fact that what he deems “normal” might not be the same for Penelope. That there are “normal” things in his life — all of which came about in the past year — that other people would scoff at and tell him are unimaginable for a kid to deal with at his age. 

That’s not right, would be more accurate. But he doesn’t say that either. Instead, he simply asks: “Do you want to come inside? El is probably asleep, but I could wake her —” 

“No — thank you, but no. I should actually get going.” With that, Penelope slips out of his hold. “Mum will kill me if she realises I slipped out.” She places Mr. Whiskers back in the shed before turning to leave. She takes four steps before Colin finds his voice again.

“You don’t have to do deal with this all by yourself, Pen. I’m here. I want to help.” 

At his words, Penelope goes completely still. Deer-in-deadlights type stillness. Then, before he knows it, she’s walking towards him. 

Her arms wrap around his torso. Her hands land firmly on his spine. Her forehead falls on his shoulder. Without a single thought, his body reacts. His arms wrap around her and his jaw settles on the crown of her head. For a moment, it feels like its just the two of them in the world. Until Colin feels something furry cross his ankle. 

“I guess Whiskers was feeling left out,” he says. Penelope laughs and Colin feels a bit lighter. That lightness is quickly followed by something hollow when Penelope pulls herself out of the hug to pick up the kitten meowing at her feet. 

“He keeps trying to follow me home after breakfast.” She giggles softly. “Clearly, he doesn’t remember meeting my mum, or else he would stay away forever. I think she thought he was a rat that day I found him.” 

Colin chuckles, and it’s only somewhat forced. “Yeah, he tried sneaking into my house a few times. He met Anthony last time, though, and I don’t think he’s ever gonna forget that.”

She giggles again. “Was he mad?” 

“His face was red — literally! Although, I’m starting to think that’s just how is face normally is and that it takes great effort for him to appear like us normal people, if that’s how he reacts to a cute little kitten hanging around our back door.” 

Penelope scratches Whiskers behind his ears. Eyes not leaving the cat, she whispers: “I don’t know how people can see something so sweet and get so mad.” 

Colin’s eyes don’t leave Penelope when he responds, suddenly a bit deflated: “Me neither.” 

Slowly, she lowers Mr. Whiskers back to the ground. The cat does not appear to be very keen on leaving her side just yet, but Penelope still insists: “I should really head back now. Before anyone notices I left.” 

Colin spares a glance over his shoulder, towards the family home he had nearly forgotten about. It’s likely past midnight already, but there are still a few lights on upstairs. 

“Yeah,” he grumbles. “Me too.” 

Penelope nods. She looks like she’s about to turn and leave when Colin blurts out: “You wanna meet here again in the morning? When you feed Whiskers, I mean.” 

She doesn’t immediately respond with words, but rather with a very confused expression lit by the moonlight. “I thought —”

“Our system’s like efficient and all,” he cuts in, “but we haven’t exactly seen each other much since we started taking care of him. I dunno, I guess I just thought that we would hang out more.” 

“Oh!” Her voice registers barely below a squeak. “Yeah. I know what you mean. I…” She pauses so long that Colin wonders if it is his turn to speak again. But right before he can blurt out something again, Penelope says: “I’d like that.” 

For the first time in days, a smile creeps up on Colin’s lips. 

“Cool. See you tomorrow.” 

꙳ ꙳ ꙳

August 14th, 2003

꙳

“I’m not sure I understand the rules of this game.”

“It’s our game. The rules can be whatever we want them to be.” 

Penelope stands with the tips of her toes and the palms of her hands pressed neatly against Colin’s matching sets. There’s a piece of cat biscuit placed between her right palm and Colin’s left. There’s a tiny kitten peering up at them from where their shoes connect. He looks just as confused on the parameters of this game as Penelope feels. 

The rules, they eventually settle on, are these: 

Before getting into the aforementioned position, one person briefly presents the biscuit to Mr. Whiskers (taking turns to avoid leading the cat towards favouritism of one player over another).

On the count of three, one person takes the biscuit into their hands, both turn around and run in opposite directions. 

Mr. Whiskers follows whoever he believes holds his treat. 

Penelope ends up with the biscuit three times. Colin ends up with it five times. It falls to the ground between them eleven times. Each time, without fail, Whiskers immediately takes off after Penelope. 

“This isn’t fair!” Colin calls out from behind a tree on their twentieth attempt at this so-called ‘game.’ “It’s not my fault you bonded with him first.” He points a finger at the cat currently pawing at her ankles. “I feed you just as much as she does — traitor!”

“Shhh, Colin!” Penelope whisper-yells. “Someone might hear you.” 

“Oh, who cares?” he says nonchalantly, retreating back towards the shed. 

I care, Penelope thinks. She doesn’t want any one of Colin’s many siblings to stumble upon them back here. She’s not ready to give up this secret. She’s not willing to end this game. Not yet, anyway. 

“Mr. Whiskers cares. I doubt he wants to be evicted from his home just because you’re a sore loser.” She picks the kitten up and plops him down on Colin’s lap, now sitting criss-cross in the shed’s doorway. 

“Well, he should have thought about that before picking sides.” He sticks his tongue out at Mr. Whiskers, who continues to appear unphased by his surroundings. 

Like she has come accustomed to doing over the past two weeks, Penelope sits down on the other end of the shed’s opening. His body is turned towards her, but she keeps her positioned outwards, as if to keep watch. Her legs cross in front of her at the ankles, her nails scratch into the grain beneath her, and, sitting upright, the crown of her head brushes the wood frame. Colin is — obviously — slouched in his spot beside her. 

After a moment of quiet, Colin clears his throat. 

“You know, you can come over for dinner tonight, if you want.” 

“Oh, no. That’s okay,” Penelope says quickly. Dismissively. “Mum will expect me home soon. I think we’re having stew.” 

“Yeah, but what about tomor—” It’s a pretty uncommon occurrence for Penelope to see a blush pass by Colin’s typically unblemished face, but right now, it hits his cheeks in an instant. He turns away. “Well, not tomorrow. Obviously. But another day.”

The mention of tomorrow brings a feverish feeling to Penelope’s chest. Much different than the warm feeling she usually feels in that same spot when she’s around Colin.

“I can’t. I — I don’t want to impose.”

“You wouldn’t.” He finally looks her in the eye again. “You wouldn’t, I promise. When you have eight kids, one more mouth to feed hardly makes a difference.” His eyes travel to the side again. They point towards his house, partially obstructed by the scattering of trees they’ve found themselves in. “El would be happy if you stopped in. Mum too.” 

Penelope tries to push out her mother’s voice from her head when she says: “Yeah. Another day. Soon.” 

“Good.” 

After another moment of quiet, she pushes herself forward and lands with two feet on the grass. 

“I really should head back now, though.” 

“Okay, I’ll —”

“But, Colin?” She interrupts — a truly rare occurrence for Penelope Featherington. 

“Yeah?”

“I was just thinking… Maybe I could feed Mr. Whiskers breakfast and dinner tomorrow. I know we have our system, but… I just — I don’t want you to have to deal with taking care of him on top of any… family stuff.”

Colin, now holding rather tightly onto Mr. Whiskers in his arms, considers her offer for a moment. His brows furrow. His eyes glance downward. He starts forming a word on his lips and Penelope expects to hear the word “no” escape from them shortly after. But instead, he nods and says: “That’s kind of you to offer. Thanks, Pen.”

Kindness isn’t something that Penelope has ever been thanked for before. She had been rewarded for it in other ways, but not like this. Kindness had always been something that was expected, not appreciated. Now, she feels hesitant to accept thanks for something as small as offering up a few minutes of her time for someone who has gone through more grief than she can even imagine. So instead of accepting it outright, she simply nods and says: “Goodnight, Colin.” 

 ꙳ ꙳ ꙳

August 25th, 2003

꙳

When Penelope walks towards the shed at approximately 6:55 AM this Monday morning, the door is shut. This is strange. The door is always open. Penelope had convinced Colin not to cut a little cat door on the side of the shed (he had wanted to use a saw from their garage), so the door always has to be open for Whiskers to come and go. Always. 

The closer she gets, the harder it is for her to take another step. Her head is already filled with the image of an empty cavern on the other side of that door. It couldn’t have close on its own; the latch is locked. Someone closed it. 

Just as her hand grazes that metal latch, Penelope hears footsteps. Quick and increasingly loud footsteps. She jumps (literally) around — heart pounding, eyes wide — and sees…

“Colin! Where’s Mr. Whiskers?!

“In there.” He points to the shed behind her, still shut tight. Once he gets close enough, he reaches over he shoulder and finally undoes the latch. Just as promised, the cat is there, curiously looking up at them.

“He keeps trying to follow me back into the house after I feed him. Last night, he was scratching at the back door. Thank God I got to him before Anthony.” 

“So he was just locked in there all night?” 

She spares another sideways glance at the shed’s interior. It’s not nearly as bare as it had been that first day she looked inside. There’s two containers. Two bowls. Two electric lanterns. A blanket. A few cat toys. And a few human toys she assumes once belonged to Colin. To an animal as tiny as Mr. Whiskers, it might seem huge, but to Penelope, it all feels very claustrophobic. 

“Yeah, but… Sometimes it’s just safer to stay put for a little while. Even outdoor cats need to be reigned in some nights.” 

Penelope doesn’t know whether to agree or disagree with his words, so she tries her best to ignore them. She climbs into the shed, gives Whiskers an affectionate bop on the head, then fills his bowl with breakfast. 

“I wanted to wake up early and let him out, but… I guess I slept in.” Colin’s out of her view, still standing just outside the shed, but she can guess there’s a guilty look creeping up on his face. 

“You’re not wrong,” she finally settles on. When Whiskers finishes his meal, she finally looks back to Colin. Just as expected, guilt is evident on his face. “But maybe Mr. Whiskers isn’t an outside cat after all. Maybe that’s why he keeps trying to follow us back to our own homes.” 

“I thought that was just because he loves us.” Leave it to Colin Bridgerton to transform guilt into charm in under 30 seconds. 

“Well…” Penelope turns back to Mr. Whiskers again. As usual, he’s peering up at them with a transfixed — maybe even loving — stare. “Maybe you have a point.” 

“I usually do —” 

“But still — do you really think this is what’s best for him?” 

“What do you mean?” 

“I mean…”

She bites her tongue — literally. All of this started because of her own selfish wants. To keep the cat. To occupy Colin’s attention. To have a reason to get out of her house every morning. But the more time has gone on, the harder it has become to see past the potential consequences of her selfishness.

“Summer’s almost over. We have to go back to school and can’t look out for him all day. It’s gonna get cold soon…” Colin’s face looks serious now. More serious than she’s used to seeing it. She looks away. “What if he gets sick? Or needs a vet? I just don’t know if this is really his best option.”

Penelope points both hands towards the shed. Towards the small wooden structure that completely transformed her summer. Towards the only home Mr. Whiskers has ever known — dim and claustrophobic as it may be. She expects Colin’s eyes to follow her lead, but they don’t. For a moment, it feels as though her presence completely slips from his view. His eyes are fixated on something in the distance — something in the opposite direction. Then —

“Shite!” 

His arms hastily wrap around Penelope’s waist. It takes everything in her not to shriek in surprise as he practically throws her into the shed. Thankfully, Mr. Whiskers jumps from the doorway to the back of the shed in an instant, or else she surely would have crushed him on impact. 

“Colin! What —”

“Shh!” Colin climbs in and shuts the door behind him. Thank God those electric lamps are still (just barely) holding onto life and dimly illuminating the space, or else Penelope would not have been able to discern him mouth: “Anthony.” 

The tips of their toes touch in the limited space. Penelope wonders if he can feel her shaking through the plastic tips of her yellow converse. The concerned look he throws her way tells her that he must.

“You okay?” he mouths. 

She thinks about nodding. She briefly wonders if a nod can count as a lie, or if lies can only be spoken aloud. But she doesn’t do anything, except stay frozen in her spot. 

Everything is quiet. For a brief moment, Penelope thinks they may have actually gone unnoticed. Then, she remembers that the latch — the flimsy piece of metal that keeps these doors shut — is on the other side. When Mr. Whiskers paws at the wood beams, the door swings open. The morning light nearly blinds her, but not enough to miss Anthony Bridgerton’s very mad — very red — face. 

“Colin — what the hell?!” 

Just as Colin had thrown her into of the shed mere moments ago, Anthony now pulls Penelope out of it by the shoulders. Just like Whiskers, she somehow manages to land on her feet. 

“I knew it! I knew you were irresponsible, but this —” He bends down and grabs Whiskers by the scruff of his neck. “This is insane. Even for you.” 

Anthony turns to Penelope, as if he has only just now discovered her presence beside Colin. In mere seconds, she watches his face turn from anger to shock to annoyance. He turns to his little brother again. 

“I will be the responsible adult and make sure this — thing — finds an actual home and doesn’t continue living on the streets.” With a near-growl caught in his throat, Anthony tells Colin: “We will discuss this later.” 

He turns to leave, but stops. “And Colin, do not mention this to mum. Or anyone else.” 

He starts then stops again. “And Penelope, please do not let my brother’s bad influence rub off on you. A nice girl like you has enough trouble as it is being friends with Eloise.” 

It isn’t until Anthony has properly stomped away, Mr. Whiskers securely tucked in his arms, that Penelope seems to regain control of her body and mind. Slowly, she turns towards Colin. She uses every second between then and the moment she looks him in the eye to begin preparing an apology. For getting him in trouble with his brother. For getting him caught up in this mess to start with. For being a bad friend. But the moment that their eyes meet… Colin does not look like he is expecting an apology of any sort. 

He laughs. 

“Did you see the look on his face?!” 

“Uhh. I don’t —” 

 “He looked like a tomato! I swear one day he’s gonna burst and —”

“Colin,” she says, concern in her voice, too low to break through the noise of his continued laughter.

“— marina sauce is gonna go flying —”

“Colin!” she says again, a bit louder this time. Thankfully, it seems to get his attention. “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have —”

“Oh god, Pen. Don’t be sorry.” 

“But —” 

“But your — your brother —”

“I should be apologising for Ant— even if you and him were both right about Whiskers needing somewhere else to live.”

“Yeah…” As much as she will miss her tiny, furry friend, this is for the best. For Whiskers, at least. “But Anthony was so mad at you. And I —”

“He’ll get over it. That’s the great thing about having seven siblings — wait five minutes and someone will do something even stupider than you. Daph and El are probably inside getting into a fist fight as we speak.” 

The mention of her best friend temporarily draws Penelope’s thoughts away from her internal pity party. She saw Eloise plenty of times over the past few weeks, but not nearly as much as she did during previous summer breaks. Before last August. 

“You wanna come over for dinner tonight?” Colin asks, breaking her from her thought spiral.

“Hmm?”

“I said,” he smirks, “do you want to come over for dinner tonight?” 

“I don’t know… Anthony seemed —”

“Don’t worry about Anthony. He’ll get over it — and you heard him, he’s not even going to rat us out to my mum.” He takes a step forward, then places his hand on Penelope’s shoulder. He squeezes it once. “It’ll be fun. Everyone will be excited to see you.” 

Not for the first time — and certainly not the last — Penelope feels at a loss for words. All she can manage is a tiny nod. A nearly imperceptible movement. 

Colin smiles. 

“Good. Just so you know, the door is always open. Always.” 

Finally, little Penelope Featherington finds her voice again. 

“I know.” 

-------------------------------------------------------

Penelope tries to hide the smile on her lips by shoving another fork full of shrimp fried rice into her mouth. Colin — of course — sees right through her attempt. 

“So…” 

“Anthony was right. We were awfully irresponsible that summer. He was better off after Danbury took him in and he became Lord Whiskers.”

“Hey — give us a little credit! How many 8 or 10-year-olds do you know who could keep a cat alive for a summer all by themselves?” 

“The only impressive thing we did that summer was keeping our little secret hidden from the rest of your family.” 

“What are you talking about?!” Colin says, unable to keep his ever-charming laugh from escaping his throat as he speaks. “Do not downplay our role in raising that cat. You rescued him from the mean streets of London. I —”

“I found him hiding out in a bush in Grosvenor Square!”

“Exactly! And I —” 

“Colin!”

“I built him a home,” he barely manages to get out through his laughter.

“That’s a bit over-dra—”

“We fed and took care of him for over a month. We were just kids — that’s pretty impressive. That means something.”

In her heart, Penelope knows that — obviously — it means something. But does it mean what Colin wants it to mean? That they should get married? Even with the rules he set forth, it seems like an insane connection to even consider.

“I don’t know…” 

“For five weeks, he was ours. That means a lot.”

For a moment, Penelope does consider it. She thinks about who Colin was to her before she found Mr. Whiskers. A friend — of sorts. Her best friend’s brother. A neighbour. A crush. Someone she looked at and longed for. After, she thinks of who Colin was to her on that morning Anthony found them hiding out in that tiny wooden shed. A friend. A fellow kid. A conspirator. Someone who saw her cowering in the dark and asked if she was okay. 

So what, if their hypothetical marriage hinges on a technicality? People have married on flimsier grounds before. 

“Fine,” she relents. “It counts.” 

A moment ago, she wouldn’t have thought it possible, but Colin’s grin grows even wider. 

“Of course it does.” As Penelope attempts to cover her own grin with a scoff, Colin picks up his phone again.

“Let’s see…”