#who else keeps falling asleep at 6 in the morning

[ma1dita]

bedtime stories

a 'partners in crime' installment - luke castellan x dionysus!reader

words: bitch this was supposed to be a blurb. 2.4k

summary: (pre-established relationship) The one where night shift with him runs late, but you don't mind at all. You won’t admit a lot of things to Luke Castellan, but perhaps he knows something you don’t. Luke Castellan x fem!Dionysus!reader

warnings: none, banter and fluff on a night shift

a/n: Introducing luke castellan x trouble!reader… this is just gonna be ongoing blurbs and one shots of an idea in my head (and my latest hyperfixation) reader is essentially reformed unhinged bitch now camp mom and it’s enemies to friends to lovers. Working through reading the pjo series hehe

(posted 1/16/24, beta’ed by the lovely @ttulipwritezz @mrsaluado & @lixzey thank you bunches)

—

Dragging your feet across the dirt of the forest floor, you sigh to yourself in the quiet night air. It’s gonna be another long night and with the beep on your digital watch, you blearily peer at the time and sigh. Almost 11. Swaying slightly, you whistle a familiar tune as your nimble hands straighten out the deck chairs near the firepit, pick up trash to toss into the receptacle, and turn off the lights in the dining hall. All on the way to check Cabin 7, mind you, and the Apollo kids will undoubtedly loop you into singing a song with them before you shut the lights off and close the curtains.

Gods, your dad is definitely gonna hear about this in the morning.

It’s not like Mr. D ever really cares, or listens, more focused on droning on about missing his wife and playing pinochle even when you rattle off his…your to-do list for the week to keep Camp Half-Blood running and the younger demigods in mostly one piece. Honestly, he should be grateful he has you, and even if he is, he’ll never let you hear it. At least you’re Chiron’s favorite.

A shadow passes your field of view, and before you can rub at your sleepy eyes, strong hands pin you to the side of a tree on the dirt path you were supposed to take across camp.

Sorry, let’s correct that—you’re one of Chiron’s favorites. The other all-star camper stares at you like you’re a three-headed dog under the beam of his flashlight.

“Just me, Castellan,” you grumble, a bit winded as you blink harshly at the bright light. “Still doing checks.”

“You’re losing your touch. You making a habit of going to bed late?” Luke smirks, and it’s actually annoying how he always looks like he knows something you don’t.

“You always pin campers to trees?”

“Just the pretty ones.” His smirk turns into a sly grin that makes you roll your eyes.

“Okay loser, I’ve got cabins to check,” you drone as you push off from the tree. “6 cut into my time after staying there longer than I had to. The little ones kept asking these otherworldly philosophical questions and Annabeth just laughed at me while I tried to not pluck my eyelashes out one by one.”

Your clipboard taps lightly against your hip despite the aggression in your voice and Luke laughs much like his little sister, a burst of sunlight overflowing into the dreary and mundane. Your lips quirk upward before you can stop and remind yourself of who you’re talking to. The tall boy reaches behind him to scratch the nape of his neck and sighs, sucking at his teeth.

“You’re always doing the most, huh?”

“Who else is going to, my dad? He’s probably already out like a light.” Once, you found your dad asleep at his desk after dinner, snoring loudly instead of keeping watch. You started taking more night shifts after that.

“Well, no. You know I’m here to help you, even if you’ll never admit it.” Luke extends a hand to you so it’s easier to navigate the step back onto the dirt-trodden path, but there’s no fun in that, so you hop around him and start walking away. The sound of his footsteps fall and match yours as he follows you, both in tandem like the sound of a steady heartbeat.

“The day you catch me admitting anything about you is the day the Underworld freezes over. You should know that by now.”

“Woooooow, so I don’t get a thank you for singing the Apollo kids to sleep? You should’ve seen the look on their faces when I walked in and not you. They ended the song pretty quickly after I opened my mouth to croak out a chorus,” he says, drawing his bottom lip between his teeth and nudging your side as you both laugh.

He’s a terrible singer, to be honest. Not even the Fates would’ve expected that from someone who otherwise seems like a perfect boy. Sometimes you wonder what he’s done in a past life to have it so easy–to look like he’s been chiseled by Michelangelo, have the athletic prowess of ten Spartan soldiers, and the heart of a hero only legends could get right. He’s probably the closest thing to an actual hero here at camp. You often find yourself looking at him in hopes of finding a crack in the porcelain of his perfection, but any fault of his seems to just build up his endurance in his quest for glory.

Maybe that’s why your dad doesn’t like him, his aspirations for something greater than the camp that’s kept you safe all these years, though the multiple complaints and headaches the both of you have given him as squabbling teenagers must’ve added onto that. Sometimes, though, the way he helps ease your load prods a funny feeling you do your best not to acknowledge in your stomach. Luke walks ahead shining the flashlight onto the dark path so you both don’t trip. It’s there now, at the sight of him offering an arm for you to latch onto to hop over fallen branches.

Mental note: tell the satyrs to move that in the morning.

As you hurdle over the brambles, you let go immediately after you steady your feet, moving his hand that’s holding the flashlight back towards the path with no other words. You are your father’s daughter after all, and he knows this—stubborn and your name have the same face.

Moving further towards your destination, the light reveals a teenage couple entangled within each other’s arms at the base of a tree out there for everyone to see in the moonlight.

“Jeez, guys, alright— pack it up, wrap it up! Could’ve at least found somewhere private… It’s curfew already, if I see you two again it’s a citation.”

The boy blushes and mumbles an apology to you, scurrying back to cabin 7, and you raise an eyebrow at a sheepish son of Hermes who swears they were all in their beds when he was singing to them.

“I don’t wanna go back to my cabin, all the boys are gross…” the girl whines, cheeks flushed from embarrassment as she flutters her eyelashes at you and Luke. You sigh. What has the world come to that young demigods are entrusted to the care of two people who barely consider themselves adults?

“Well, if you’re still in 11 with this one,” you simper, blatantly pointing at Luke, “I can’t blame you. He’s gross. Come by mine tomorrow and I’ll get you privacy curtains, okay? Trust me Yvonne, you don’t think boys are all that gross if you like kissing them.”

She nods, smiling charmingly at the two of you, before brushing past Luke and winking, “See you inside!”

Your head swivels to look at Luke with a coy expression, “There’s no way she’s not an Aphrodite.”

Luke huffs as he clicks his flashlight on and off. His hands are always fidgeting, always searching for something to do. He’s more like his dad than he thinks, carrying the quieter traits of quick fingers and more obvious ones like his constant search for amusement. Talking to you consistently satiates that itch.

“Aphrodite isn’t the only god that attracts attractive people, you know.”

“Oh? Do tell, because if she’s one of you, your cabin’s gonna be extra trouble,” your mouth curves into a smile, and he thinks he likes it more when you’re trying to be mean to him like this because the back and forth between you two is a comfort Luke cherishes. The words have lost their bite over the years, and there are no more cuts and bruises besides an occasional wounded ego, but it’s still entertaining, to say the least. He can’t imagine a day without hearing the teasing lilt of your voice, always easy to prod at and always wanting to have the last word.

“My dad is the god of thieves and messengers. We’re fast, smart, charming, and also good-looking. Do the math.”

“Also apparently the ones with the biggest egos, but okay.” There it is. He shoves you and you trip over your own feet falling fast.

“Hey! Jerk.”

“Definitely a daughter of Dionysus, crazy as always, and clumsy too.” Luke’s nose crinkles at the sight of your crumpled frame.

“Your hand is like the size of my face, what the fuck was I supposed to do with that?”

A fleeting thought in the back of your mind reasons that maybe violence is the answer, but he’s still not finished making fun of you even after he helps you up.

“And vulgar! What a shocker.”

“Ugh. You better hope your dad stops populating because if there’s any more that come here and act like you? I’m quitting.”

Luke watches you gaze at the heavens, probably looking for a fuck to give and he snickers at how easily you give in nowadays. Maybe he’s the one losing his touch—usually you’d put up more of a fight to argue.

“You wouldn’t. You love this job. Camp. S’why you’re not as fun anymore, trouble.”

A noise of agreement leaves you as you glare at him and the stupid nickname back from when you used to wreak havoc just because you could, a direct juxtaposition to the honorary position you hold today. Finally following him up the front steps of Cabin 11, Luke opens the door and beckons you in, pushing at your hip with his knuckles.

Checking this place last has become a habit with Luke helping you out, and all the kids—Hermes’, minor gods’, and unclaimed, love it when you come to stop by before lights out. They especially loved the later bedtime, but hugs and cool stories from you were a close second.

“Everyone good and ready for bed in here? Sorry it took so long guys,” you say, visually scanning the perimeter and matching faces to bunks, seeing them all settled beneath their sheets, all except for one Luke Castellan. He’s still leaning against the doorframe, breath grazing your shoulder as he hands you a copy of his log from the other cabins he kindly relieved you from.

“What, no bedtime story this time?” He says through hooded eyes, and though he won’t admit it, he adores the sound of your voice. Luke does anything he can to get your attention to hear it more. It almost has a calming effect on him, and maybe it’s the fact that your dad can cause and cure madness, anxiety, and all alike, so something in him believes you do the same, powers or not. One look from him has you sputtering out snarky remarks; different strategies, same results—works every time.

“Castellan…” He grins at the look on your face, and tiny voices pop up from around the cabin, all asking for a bedtime story. Chris even starts a chant from his top bunk, making you want to hurl your clipboard at his head. Hypnos is calling your name at this point, and you’d do anything to crawl into your own safe haven in Cabin 12, but your heartstrings pull at the sight of the little ones pouting, hoping for you to tuck them in with a blanket of comforting words and stories of something more than what these walls meagerly provide. Camp Half-Blood only keeps them safe for so long, and not a lot of them make it out of here alive. You and Luke both know that being two of the oldest at camp, and his smug expression as he settles into his bed is confirmation that you’re about to give in.

“Fine. One quick story, and then everyone goes to sleep okay? Who wants to sit on the floor with me?”

You take your place sitting on the ground next to the foot of Luke’s bunk as he lays upside down on the twin-sized mattress, peering at you through one open eye as the younger children, mostly the unclaimed ones—drag their blankets and form a circle in the middle of the room, waiting patiently for you to start enchanting them with something to occupy their tired minds. Acting— that’s the gift your father had to give you; this time you decide to tell the story of Atalanta and the golden apples, how she ran from love and it still found her in the end, and how some stories can have good endings, despite what’s often found in Greek legend. Multiple tired eyes droop closed as you finish the story and carry the ones who’ve fallen into Hypnos’ embrace back into their bunks, tucking them in with kisses on their foreheads and it leaves you with a warm feeling that will help you brave the chill on your walk back.

Admittedly, this next part is your favorite part on nights like these. The overflowing cabin of rowdy pranksters and babbling children is as quiet as the secret you hold close to your heart, tiptoeing back towards Luke’s space and draping his blanket over his muscular frame, exhausted from another day of trying to achieve greatness. Your hand brushes a dark curl away from his forehead, fingertips ghosting his pale skin like a kiss you’d never have the guts to give. With everything you have in you, you summon thoughts of serenity and peace, hoping whatever keeps him up at night lets him rest for even a few hours. You don’t pray often, finding yourself spiting your father instead of honoring him on most days, but in the dim light of Cabin 11, you find yourself making time to do so for a pain in your ass called Luke Castellan.

Perhaps he knows something you don’t after all, the crease in his forehead relaxing as you pull your fingertips away.

“Sweet dreams, angelface.”

Mental note: Put his ass to work tomorrow for falling asleep halfway through the story.

It’ll only give him another excuse to ask you to tell it again a few nights later. You find yourself not minding that, a sliver of a smile pulling at your face as you walk towards the door and shut the lights off, a sleeping son of Hermes illuminated by the gentle shine of the moon.

You’d never admit that, though.

—

“you steady me and stir me

all at once.”

-Tanya Wright

ask to be added to luke/general taglist!

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[haddonfieldwhore]

strangers - bo sinclair

bo sinclair x fem!reader

summary: bo has a very rare moment of humanity

warnings: implied smut, reader is bo’s captive, stockholm syndrome, blood

word count: 0.7k

loosely inspired by this song

the busted spring of the mattress poked into bo’s back as he rolled over in bed, trying to get away from the rays of sunlight creeping through the cracks in the curtain. he tried to go back to sleep but the light refused to let him, and he surrendered, sitting upright and leaning his back against the wall behind the bed. he rubbed his eyes as they adjusted to the light, before he looked over to your side of the bed at you still sleeping form. the sheets were the only thing covering you, draped lazily over your side as you lay turned away from him, your only movement being each breath you took.

he traced the bruises and indentations left behind by his teeth, leaving a trail down the side of your neck and across you shoulder. you stirred slightly, rolling over to face him but remained asleep, giving bo the chance to admire every detail of your face. your lips were bruised from his harsh kisses, dried blood caked to your mouth, and dark circles under your eyes. you’d only been in ambrose 6 months, but it had aged you nearly two years. not that you could remember how long it had been anymore.

but still, bo couldn’t help but think how young you looked; innocent. he knew you weren’t - at least not anymore. no, he had taken that from you. you were hardly the same person you were when you’d arrived in town, just asking for help with your car. all alone. a pretty young thing like you didn’t stand a chance. not for a second.

it hadn’t taken long for bo to decide he was going to keep you. after that it wasn’t long before he convinced you that you wanted to stay; that it was your idea, even. once he knew you wouldn’t try to escape (not that you could’ve if you tried) he let you stay at the house with him instead of the basement.

they were both prisons. one just had a bed.

bo thought back to that first day, that first week, that first time you didn’t flinch at his touch. the first time you smiled at the sight of him. it was over; you were his.

even if you could’ve gotten away, it was too late. you were his. he owned you.

it didn’t matter if you had a family back home, looking for you. your missing poster had started to tear from the bulletin board at the grocery store in your home town; your mother would replace it. it didn’t matter. no one would find you. the person you were was gone. a ghost, though you were still alive.

something twisted in his stomach, a strange feeling; something he didn’t recognize, like he’d eaten something off and felt sick. but it was something else entirely.

guilt.

bo sinclair, for the first time in his life, felt a shred of guilt. it lingered for only a second, disappearing as quickly as it had materialized, as your eyes fluttered open and you smiled at him. your hands reached for him immediately, and bo pulled you into his lap, letting you curl into his chest. still half asleep, you peppered kisses along the underside of his jaw before nuzzling into his neck, nearly drifting off again. see? you were happy. he decided there was nothing for him to feel guilty about.

“mornin, darling.”

“good morning, bo,” you mumbled happily. anyone who saw this scene would think the two of you were in love. he’d rewired your brain so good you thought so too.

“go back to sleep baby. you did good last night.”

last night. you lost track of him many times he’d been buried between your legs last night, barely able to string together a cohesive thought by the time he was done with you, tears streaming down your face from it all being too much.

“i did good?” you hummed, and he nodded, kissing the top of your head.

“you did so good, sweetheart. now go back to sleep,” he cooed. you mumbled incoherently as you let yourself fall asleep in his arms. “that’s my girl.”

“…yours,” you mumbled before you were asleep again. he smiled.

“mine.”

[stevie-petey]

episode six: the monster

Steve’s looking at you now and you can see all the cuts and bruises on his face. You want to wipe all the blood away, to stitch him up and place him somewhere safe so that nothing else can hurt him. You want to do all of this and more as he stares at you and silently begs you to stay, but you can’t. You shake your head at him and once again his mask slips; he’s just a scared teenage boy. You want to reach out, to grab his hand and remind him that he’s good, but you don’t.

summary: so nancy and jonathan are a Thing now and you really just need a good nap, the three of you go shopping for monster hunting supplies (which honestly isn't the weirdest thing you've done this week), an old man sells you a sentimental knife, and steve kind of accidentally kidnaps you with a sexy black eye.

rating: general, slight violence and a lot of cursing though

warnings: blood, fem!reader, use of y/n, use of the word "queer" in a negative way, steve being an asshole

words: 8.1k

before you swing in: hey guys ! sorry for the delay in updates. finals season took me OUT and then life kinda happened and suddenly i was hiding out from my roommate turned middle school bully ??? idek. anyways, here's chapter 6 which features the iconic alley scene and some very sentimental stevexreaderxjonathan scenes (theyre a mess). enjoy !

-

“Geesh, you’re not a sleeping beauty.”

Dustin’s face greets you when you open your eyes. He’s hovering over you as the morning light streams through your curtains with a determined glint in his eyes. 

“What–?” Your brain hasn’t caught up with what’s going on quite yet, still half asleep. 

“Wake up! I’m going to Mike’s so we can all talk about yesterday and I promised to keep you updated, so… Here’s me updating you.” 

Hearing Mike’s name is what causes you to fully wake up. Mike. The Wheeler’s. Nancy. Steve seeing Jonathan with her on her bed. You quickly sit up and knock your head against Dustin’s, causing the boy to yelp.

“Ow! What is wrong with you?”

“Sorry,” you say, rubbing your head as your brother glares at you. “Wasn’t intentional, honest. Can you wait like twenty minutes so I can get ready? I wanna come with, I think Jonathan spent the night there and I need to talk to him.” 

Your brother frowns. “Why would Jonathan spend the night at Mike’s?”

“I’d really rather not talk about it.” You say, hoping it’ll be enough of an explanation for him.

Dustin studies you for a moment and you really hope that last night’s events aren’t written all over your face. Somehow, everyone seems to know what you’re thinking and feeling before you even do. 

“Fine,” he concedes, but as he leaves your room he calls over his shoulder, “I’m taking the last of mom’s pancakes though!”

You flop back onto your bed, throw a pillow over your face, and groan. Looks like you’re stuck with a banana for breakfast again. 

When you eventually manage to make your way into the bathroom and shower, your bones ache from pure exhaustion. As the warm water runs over your body, you’re not quite sure if the ache is more emotional or physical. Probably a mix of both. 

You can’t remember how you made it home last night, but slowly it comes back to you in flashes. 

Steve and his wonderful boyishness that has become a breath of fresh air to you. The way he greeted you so excitedly, how he had been worried about Nancy.

Nancy, who you had left alone with Jonathan because of your own pathetic feelings. The girl Steve Harrington is obviously in love with. The same girl Jonathan, your Jonathan, is beginning to fall in love with. 

Then you remember the hurt in Steve’s eyes when he saw Nancy and Jonathan together on her bed. The water suddenly burns and you gasp out in pain and adjust the temperature. 

You know that Jonathan would never do something like that, try to get with someone in a relationship, but lately it’s felt like you don’t really know him like you used to. 

Distantly you remember what Steve had said to you, how he’d seemed so hurt on your behalf, that Jonathan had “everything he could possibly want” when it came to you. Steve claimed you deserved better. You vividly remember that part, the way he said it with such certainty and sincerity that it had made your heart stutter for a brief moment. 

Dustin’s pounding on the bathroom door breaks you from your thoughts. “Dude, hurry up!”

You yell at him that you’ll be out in a second and nearly slip and die as you hurry to get out of the shower. For someone who swore last night not to let stupid boy drama not get in the way of finding Will, you’re really bad at doing it. 

As soon as you’re dressed and ready, you and Dustin bike to the Wheeler’s.

Mrs. Wheeler, as usual, answers the door and lets the two of you in. Dustin heads towards the basement door, but before he goes down you tap on his hat to stop him. 

“Remember what we talked about last night, okay? Friendship, it’s always worth it.” You tell him, and he gives you a nervous smile. He thanks you, takes a deep breath, and then heads downstairs. 

Once Dustin leaves you make your way upstairs towards Nancy’s room. You haven’t been there in years, so you secretly hope you’re remembering the Wheeler’s layout correctly. With every step you take closer to the girl’s room, your heart pounds within your chest. You feel the same wave of nausea that you felt last night. 

When you reach her door, you take a deep breath, just like Dustin had earlier, and will yourself to knock. You’re not sure what you’ll find on the other side of the door, or if you even want to know, but you remind yourself that you’re doing this for Will. 

It’s all for Will. 

You hear rustling in Nancy’s room after you knock, followed by a quiet “hide!” and a loud thud that you presume to be Jonathan. In another life you’d laugh at the situation, but hearing their frantic hiding only makes your nausea worse. 

“It’s just me,” you say through the door, somehow managing to find your voice. It’s weak and frail, but they seem to hear you regardless. 

“Y/N!” Nancy sighs in relief when she opens the door. “God, I thought you were my mom.”

“Bug?” You hear Jonathan’s inquisitive voice, and when you poke your head into the room you see half of his body wedged underneath Nancy’s bed. He gives you a sheepish wave and you find yourself suppressing a laugh. 

You let yourself into the room. “Great hiding place, bee. Mr. Wheeler would definitely never find you there.”

Nancy’s eyes suddenly widen. “Oh, we didn’t– it’s not like that, I promise. Jonathan was gonna sleep on the ground, but I was scared and I guess we just… Yeah.” 

You notice the way she desperately avoids your eyes, almost as if out of guilt. Jonathan is no better, his head ducked in shame as he also can’t quite reach your eyes. When he finally manages to, his smile is a hesitant one. “Her bed wasn’t the same as the bean bag, bug.” 

His words are meant to be a sort of peace offering between the two of you, you know this by the way Jonathan’s voice is soft and unsure. He knows he’s crossed an unspoken line between the two of you, and you’re too tired to argue. 

“Yeah, I’m sure it wasn’t.” You offer him your hand, which he gladly accepts, and you help him up from underneath Nancy’s bed. 

Nancy watches the two of you and the way you immediately fall back into your comfortable familiarity together. Jonathan stands slightly in front of you as he always does, he hasn’t let go of your hand just yet. You stroke your thumb across his fingers that are interlocked with yours. 

She clears her throat, sits down on her bed, and motions for you to join. “So, I guess you’re here for a reason.”

You gently remove Jonathan’s hand from yours and sit next to Nancy while he’s left to awkwardly stand before the two of you. “Well, yeah. You guys kinda disappeared on me last night.”

Nancy and Jonathan exchange an uneasy look, which only leaves you feeling uneasy as well. Jonathan walks over to her side so that now he’s standing behind her as she sits on the bed. “I’m sorry, bug. It’s just… well, last night was fucking terrifying.” 

“What happened?” You ask, now discarding your confusing feelings. Out of habit you find yourself scanning over their bodies for any injuries, just in case the two of them need any care. 

“The monster… we found him.” Nancy whispers. She tries to explain more, but the memories seem to come crashing back and she shudders. Without thinking, you grab her hand and try to steady her nerves; she smiles.

Jonathan sees Nancy’s fear and steps in to explain. “After you left yesterday, we searched the woods like we planned. We walked around for hours and found nothing, but then we found a dying deer and before we could kill it…” 

“Something dragged it into the woods.” Nancy finishes. 

You hold your breath, now very relieved you hadn't joined them last night.

Jonathan continues. They’d been separated as they looked for the deer and suddenly he could hear Nancy screaming for help, but no matter where he ran he couldn’t seem to find her. 

“I followed the sound of her voice, it was like she was right there, but she wasn’t.” 

Nancy sits stoically next to you, her eyes have glazed over. You feel horrible for her, and you vaguely remember something that Dustin had told you about the Vale of Shadows

The Vale of Shadows is a dimension that is a dark reflection or echo of our world. It is a place of decay and death. A plane out of phase. A place of monsters. It is right next to you, and you don’t even see it.

Slowly you piece it together. “Nancy, could you hear Jonathan, too?” 

She nods. “I was in the woods, but I wasn’t… I don’t know, it was– it was different there. Cold, I remember it was cold.” 

“And it was just like home?”

“What…” Nancy looks even more scared now. “How did you know that?”

You glance at Jonathan, worried that what you’re about to say will cause a reaction. “Will said the same thing when El was able to communicate with him.”

“Wait a minute,” Jonathan interrupts. “Nancy was in the… the Upside, or whatever Mike and them call it?”

“The Upside Down,” you confirm.

Nancy shudders once more. “I think that the monster lives there, feeding on that deer. So if Will and Barbara are there…” 

She doesn’t need to finish the sentence for you to understand what she’s getting at. Anything that feeds on something as big as a deer is fucking terrifying. If Will and Barb are really stuck in that dimension with the monster, then all your cautioning towards Dustin about getting his hopes up makes you feel ill. 

Will and Barb are basically trapped in that monster’s hunting ground. 

“My mom said she talked to Will.” Jonathan reminds the two of you. “And Y/N, the boys claim that El can still find him wherever he is. If he’s alive, there’s a chance that Barbara is, too.”

“He’s right, Nancy.” 

Nancy shakes her head. “But that means she’s trapped in that place.” 

“Look, this may not sound reassuring, but we have El and the boys. They’re smarter than the three of us combined.” Nancy and Jonathan look at you like you’re insane. “I know they’re young, but they’ve uncovered more than we have within the same amount of time. They’re the reason why we know about the Upside Down, and as we speak I’m more than certain that they’re out there right now trying to find a gate to the Upside Down.”

You take a deep breath. “Now, do I think they’ll find it? Absolutely. But do I fear they’ll find something even worse along the way? Also absolutely. But right now we need to focus on finding the damn thing so we can kill it and protect the kids in the meantime. If we do this right, we can eliminate any possible threat so that when the boys inevitably find another way into the Upside Down, we can just walk in and save Will and Barb.” 

While Jonathan still looks at you like you’re crazy, Nancy clenches her jaw and nods at you. “We have to find it again.” 

Despite how obviously terrified she still is, Nancy’s bravery impresses you. In a way, you suppose that Mike gets his unyielding loyalty from her, which if someone had told you that last week, you would’ve laughed in their face. 

But now? 

You’re relieved to have someone like Nancy Wheeler in your life, even if her presence has created some issues that you never would’ve thought possible. For better or for worse, she’s fiercely loyal and determined, just like you. 

Jonathan studies Nancy, clearly still worried about what she went through last night. “You wanna go back out there?”

The thought of her going back into the Upside Down makes you nervous. “Do we necessarily have to send Nancy back there? Can’t we just like, I don’t know, summon the thing? It clearly likes hunting for food in this dimension.”

“‘Hunting for food…’” Nancy mumbles to herself. She knits her brows together, seemingly drawing some conclusions. “When I saw it, it was feeding on that deer.”

“Poor deer,” you whisper, and Jonathan shakes his head at you to shut up. 

“Meaning it’s… it’s a predator, right?”

“Right.” Jonathan says while you go “Unfortunately.”

Nancy is on a roll now, her usually confident demeanor now back. “And it seems to hunt at night, like a–like a lion or a coyote.” She grabs a textbook that had been discarded on her bed and flips to a page showing other dangerous predators.

“But don’t most predators hunt in packs?” You ask, which has been something on your mind recently. Sure, you know there’s a monster, but how can you be sure there’s only one?

Nancy bites her lip. “Yeah, but for some reason this thing is always alone… like a bear.”

“Honestly, I’d take a bear over whatever the hell we’re dealing with here.” Jonathan once again shakes his head at you, but you wave him off. “Let me lighten the mood, damn.”

“Thanks, Y/N.” Nancy smiles at you, but it doesn’t quite reach her eyes before she continues explaining. “Jonathan, remember at Steve’s, when Barb cut herself?”

For a brief moment you see guilt flash across his face at the mention of that night at Steve’s, the photos he took, and he meets your eyes. “Yeah, I remember.”

“And then, last night, the deer…”

Now you’re beginning to understand. “There was blood, wasn’t there?”

“There was,” Nancy now flips to a page about sharks, which you can’t help but frown at. Maybe you really weren’t following along. She begins to ramble about how sharks can detect the smell of blood from a quarter mile away. 

“I thought I escaped all this science stuff when I tagged along with you guys instead of the boys,” you mumble, trying your best to follow along. 

“The thing can detect blood, bug.” Jonathan clarifies. 

“But it’s just a theory,” Nancy corrects, now turning around so that she can face him. 

They stare at one another, almost as if they’ve now synched together and created a world outside of yours, and once again you feel like there’s no room for you here anymore. 

“We could test it.” Jonathan says, still staring deeply into her eyes. “But if it works…”

“At least we’ll know it’s coming.” 

You notice how Nancy leans in close to Jonathan, more than she once did before, as if he’s her only source of support after what happened last night. In a way, you suppose that now he is. He was the only one there last night when the monster almost got her; they went through something horrible together. 

Something that creates a bond like no other. 

Suddenly Nancy’s door rattles, causing you to jump in her bed while she grabs for Jonathan’s hand. You don’t hear the exchange between her and her mom, too busy reeling over the fact that Jonathan’s fingers are interlocked with hers. 

Jonathan, the boy so against physical touch that the only person he lets hold his hand is you, which took almost a year of friendship to even make him comfortable with. Now here he is, holding Nancy’s hand after only a few days. 

Your heart hurts. 

You know it’s pathetic to be so upset over a natural reaction. Nancy has been through something traumatic and Jonathan had been the one there for her, so naturally she reached out for him. While you know it doesn’t mean anything, it still fucking hurts. You’ve always been secretly elated by the fact that you were the only one who received Jonathan’s affection, his forehead kisses and hair ruffles and his hugs. 

Holding his hand has become second nature to you, long familiar now with the way his fingers feel between yours. 

And now they’re between Nancy’s. 

“Y/N? You still with us?”

Nancy waves a hand in front of your face, and suddenly you’re aware of how long you’ve been staring at the two of them. “Huh? Oh, yeah. I’m here… still here.” 

“You alright, bug?” Jonathan asks, now a bit worried about you. 

“Peachy!” You try desperately to make your voice light, but the nausea that hasn’t left you since last night once again threatens to make you sick. “Enough about me, though. What I’m hearing is that we need to buy some monster hunting supplies. I mean, unless we plan on beating it with my humor.”

You wink at them, and while Nancy seems reassured by your bravado, Jonathan knows better. He raises his eyebrows at you and tilts his head and you know he’s asking what’s really going on? and all you can do is shake your head in a please don’t ask any more questions or I will sob right here right now way that only he can understand. 

Nancy doesn’t notice this exchange and instead gets up from her bed. “Well, if we’re going shopping for supplies then I should get ready. Y/N, I’m sure my mom will give you some pancakes if you ask.”

Right on cue, your stomach rumbles. “Thank God she loves me. I’ll smuggle some up for you, bee.” 

He thanks you before you and Nancy exit the room. She heads for the bathroom while you make your way downstairs.

“Y/N? I didn’t know you’d gone upstairs!” Mrs. Wheeler greets you and immediately you’re handed a steaming plate of homemade blueberry pancakes. 

Mr. Wheeler huffs. “Do we have to feed the entire neighborhood?”

“Good morning to you too, Ted.” 

The man glares at you as you thank Mrs. Wheeler for the food. You make up a quick lie about working on an assignment with Nancy and that you’d prefer to eat in her room so you can finish up an equation you’d been in the middle of. 

“So, may I bring it upstairs?”

“Well…” Mrs. Wheeler purses her lips, not too keen on the idea. 

You give her your best and most parent pleasing smile. “I promise I’ll be careful, not a drop of blueberry will get anywhere. Scout’s honor!”

“Oh, alright. But please tell Nancy that this will only be a one time thing”

“Of course, Mrs. Wheeler.”

You leave her alone with a grumbling Mr. Wheeler and a fussy Holly.

–

Nancy is still in the bathroom when you return and Jonathan is awkwardly sitting on her bed, looking around the room as if he’s in some foreign land. 

“Ya know, I’ve never been in a girl’s room before.”

“Gee, thanks.” You scoff at him, setting the plate of pancakes down on Nancy’s desk before digging in. You’re starving. 

“That’s not what I meant, bug.” He flashes an apologetic smile. “Your room is just… Well, it’s not very girly, is it?”

If you hadn’t promised Mrs. Wheeler you’d be careful with the food upstairs, you would’ve thrown a piece of pancake at Jonathan’s face. “Dude, shut up.”

“Shit, sorry.” He makes his way over to the desk and wraps his arms around you as he always does. “What I meant is that this room is so pink, while yours has more comics than I can count.” 

“Don’t forget Spidey posters,” you say with a mouthful of food while simultaneously handing a piece to him. “Anyways, I like pink. I think this room is lovely, honestly. I wanted to paint mine this color when we first moved, but Dustin said if I painted the room pink then he’d never hang out with me in there. Alas, I forfeited.” 

Jonathan laughs and accepts the pancake. “Him and the boys have you wrapped around their little fingers. You know that, right?”

You lean against him, relishing in the feeling of his strong chest against your back. “Mmm, I know. I’m a sucker for those idiots.”

Jonathan tightens his hold around you and draws you deeper into his chest. “I know, it’s what I love the most about you.”

His words are like ice against your skin and suddenly his arms feel suffocating around you. 

You clear your throat and lean forward to lessen his hold on you. “Right, well. You just love it because they listen to me and you can round them up better when I’m around.”

“It’s not just because of that, bug.” Jonathan draws you in again and you’re too weak to fight it. He rests his chin against your head. “I love how you love those around you.” 

The air has become thick between the two of you. 

The way you love people terrifies me, Jonathan’s words from a few days ago echo within your head.

So what’s the truth? Why is he saying all of this?

“Bee,” you bring your hands up and hold onto the arms that are still securely around you. You’re not sure what exactly you want to say, how to explain the warmth you feel for him that simmers within you when he says your name or the way it turns into a furious boil when he looks at Nancy like she’s the damn moon. “You promised you’d call last night.” 

“I know–”

“I was worried about you.”

“And then I ditched you.”

“Again, might I add.”

You put her first, you think.

Jonathan sighs and places a kiss against your hair. “I know.” 

A tense silence follows. Mrs. Wheeler’s wonderful pancakes now taste like cement in your mouth. God, you wish things could go back to how things once were. You miss when Jonathan could wrap his arms around you and the weight of it wasn’t so crushing with all its unspoken implications. 

“I’m sorry, bug. I really, really am sorry.” His voice is strained and he tightens his hold even more, as if to remind himself that you’re still there with him. “I was so scared last night, and had you been the one taken instead of Nancy…”

“But I wasn’t. She was.” You try to keep any emotion out of your voice. 

“I know… I just, I had to make sure she was okay. I promise that nothing else happened. You know that right? Just, please tell me you believe me.” His voice cracks and you finally turn around to wrap your own arms around him. 

“Bee, of course I believe you.” Your words are muffled against his stomach, but he hears you. He always hears you. 

You understand why he stayed at Nancy’s, you really do. But it doesn’t make the sting of it any less painful. You feel awful about what she experienced last night, no doubt forever traumatized by it, but the bitter taste of no longer having Jonathan all to yourself is something you’re still getting used to. 

“You forgive me?” He asks, so faintly you almost don’t catch it.

You lift your head up and catch Jonathan’s eye. “There’s nothing to forgive, bee.” 

And you mean it.

The smile Jonathan gives you as a response, the smile that has always made your knees weak, is just yet another reason why you can’t ever risk what you have with him. 

– 

This may come as a shock to some, but you’ve never set foot in the army supply store. 

The place makes you uneasy. You’ve never been comfortable around weapons, and like you told Nancy earlier: if it ever came down to it, you’d prefer to use your charm (but mostly your wits) rather than violence. It just isn’t your thing. 

While you and Jonathan wander aimlessly around, Nancy seems to know exactly what you guys need. She begins throwing things into the basket around her arm without hesitating and you exchange a look with Jonathan. Clearly it’s a good thing you’ve wrangled Nancy into this mess. 

You wander some more and break away from the group, eyeing the insane amount of weapons, traps, and knives offered in the store. It’s overwhelming and you realize you have no real idea what you’ll even need. Guns unnerve you, the bat Nancy brought just seems silly to use. So what does that leave you?

Your eyes land on a knife with both its ends extended. Its handle in the center is a polished wood that’s a deep ember and the blades themselves are sterling silver that glisten in the dim store lighting. It’s a beautiful weapon. 

As you reach for it to inspect it, one of the store employees, an older man, walks up behind you. 

“That’s a switchblade. It was donated to us years ago.” You jump at the man’s words and he flashes you an apologetic smile. “Sorry, miss. Didn’t mean to scare ya.”

“It’s okay, it’s not your fault. I’m just more skittish than usual this week.” You’re not sure why you admit this to the man, and when he gives you a curious look you clear your throat and change the topic. “You said this was donated?”

“Oh, yes! Here, have a feel for it.” Before you can stop him, he places the knife in your hands. 

Your fingers skim over the smooth wood and you notice some words engraved in it. The letters are scuffed, presumably from age. “Was there writing on it?”

The old man’s smile becomes a sad one. “The switchblade was from this old man, he made it for his wife and claimed she loved to keep him on her toes. So, he had the word ‘button’ engraved in the handle because–”

“She always pushed his buttons?”

“Yeah,” the man laughs. “That’s exactly what she did.” 

There’s a far off look in the man’s eyes, as if he’s remembering a warm summer day from his childhood; bittersweet and filled with fondness. He reminds you of your grandpa whenever someone brings up your grandma who died when you were young. You roll the blade over in your hands. “You knew the woman, didn’t you?”

“I did, but she’s long gone now,” he confirms, his voice wobbling.

“I’m sorry for your loss, sir.” You reach over and place your hand on his forearm, which he smiles at. 

“Don’t be. Martha would be glad someone like you has her knife, now.” 

You immediately drop your hand and try to give the switchblade back. “Oh, no, I can’t possibly take this–”

“It’s yours. You’re the only one who has paid any attention to it. I’ll show you how to use it if you make me a promise.”

Before you can argue more, Jonathan calls out from a few aisles down. “Bug? Where’d you go?”

“I’ll be there in a second, bee!” You turn back to the man. “What kind of promise are we talking about?”

“Bug and bee? Martha called me birdy because a bird swooped on me the first time I ever met her,” the old man chuckles with affection. “Anyways, promise me that you’ll use this with love. I may own this store, but violence never leaves much room for love.” 

The agreement comes easily to you. “Of course.”

And with that, the old man shows you how to flip the switchblade open. It only takes a simple flick of the wrist for the blade to glide back into the handle in the center, and with another flick they smoothly glide back out once more; the way the blades move in sync leaves you in awe.

“You can use both the blades or only one, but I sense that you know that things are always stronger together.” The old man says, a glint in his eyes as he hands the switchblade back to you. 

You smile at him and try it out yourself; the switchblade fits perfectly in your hand and you’re easily able to get the blades in and out. As you’re admiring the way the blades balance each other out, Jonathan appears by your side. 

“Hey, ready to check out?” 

You nod and thank the old man, who waves you off with a friendly goodbye. 

“Who was that?” Jonathan asks once you’re out of earshot from the man. 

You show him the switchblade. “You remember that theory you had about me attracting old people? You’re gonna love this.”

– 

Nancy plops down bear traps, gasoline, and a multitude of other supplies she acquired while you were off talking to the old store owner. The cashier, a significantly younger looking man, looks at the three of you as if you’re insane. 

“And I’ll have four boxes of the .38s.” Jonathan says, and you flash the employee your award winning smile just in case. You recognize how insane this all looks.

“What are you kids doing with all this?” The employee asks, and you Jonathan both instinctively turn to Nancy for help. 

She shrugs, playing the question off well. “Monster hunting.”

The guy laughs and finishes ringing you guys up before the three of you head out to Jonathan’s car. He’s carrying most of the stuff in a box while you and Nancy start loading the bags into his trunk. You quickly help him with the box once you’ve placed your bags down.

“‘Monster hunting’?” Jonathan teases and Nancy just smirks. 

“How do you think that guy would react if he knew we were telling the truth?” You snort and Jonathan can only shake his head in amusement. 

Nancy laughs and bumps her shoulder against yours. “You know, last week I was shopping for a new top I thought Steve might like.” 

Hearing Steve’s name makes you freeze. You completely forgot that Steve had been there with you last night at the Wheeler’s. He had seen Jonathan and Nancy together on her bed. You remember the anger in his eyes and your heart sinks. King Steve would never just let something like that go.

“Hey, uh, Nancy?” You try to interrupt the girl, but she’s too focused on her story.

“It took me and Barb all weekend, it seemed like life or death, you know? And now…”

“You’re shopping for bear traps with Jonathan Byers and Y/N Henderson.” 

You grab at Nancy’s jacket to try and get her attention, but she only has her eyes set on Jonathan. “Nancy, I have something to tell you–”

“What’s the weirdest part? Me or the bear trap?”

“Guys I really need you to listen right now–” Again they ignore you, lost in their own little world that you still don’t have access to. 

For a moment you wonder if you even should warn them, but you know it’d be wrong not to. You could be imagining it, but your new switchblade almost seems to warm up within your pocket as if to remind you of your promise to the old man. 

Nancy’s eyes shine as she looks at Jonathan and you want to scream. Now is not the fucking time. “You. It’s definitely you.”

You clap your hands in front of their faces, finally breaking the two of them out of their spell. “Hey! Assholes! Trying to save your asses!”

Jonathan bats your hands away from his face. “What are you talking about?”

“Steve, he, uh…” You take a deep breath, trying to figure out how the hell you’re supposed to word this, before a car honks and some creep calls out to Nancy. 

“Can’t wait to see your movie.” The boy laughs, which causes your blood to turn cold. The Hawk movie theater, where Jonathan works… In a twisted way, Steve Harrington is a fucking revenge genius.

“What the hell was that?” You hear Jonathan mumble, but your ears are ringing. 

Nancy turns to you, now with distrust in her eyes. “Steve. You said his name.”

“Nancy–I, I forgot and–” You stumble over your words as the girl’s eyes harden. You didn’t mean for this to happen, you don’t know how you forgot. She doesn’t wait for you to finish whatever the hell you were about to say and starts running after the car. You’re quick to follow after her, already knowing what you’ll find. 

“Where are you guys going?”

“Just come on, Jonathan!” You shout behind you. 

Nancy sees the board before you do and the gasp she lets out makes you want to cry for her. There, in big, ugly red letters on the Hawk’s clapperboard are the words spelling out “All the Right Moves Starring Nancy the Slut Wheeler”. 

It’s an awful, awful fucking thing. 

And it’s Steve’s work, you know it is. 

You hear Jonathan gasp out behind you and you see the crowd that begins to form around the three of you. Everyone stares at Nancy and whispers cruel things about her and it takes everything within you not to cause a scene. How fucking dare they. They have no right. Steve had no fucking right. 

In the midst of your anger you notice the tears beginning to form in Nancy’s eyes and you immediately run over to her side and grab her hand. You pull her into a hug and whisper reassurances, promising her that it’ll all be okay. She lets you hold her and you feel so fucking awful. You should’ve done more to protect her. 

Then, you hear the distinct sound of a spray paint bottle rattling followed by Tommy Hagan’s screech of a laugh. Nancy tears herself from your grasp and runs into the alley where the noise is coming from. You follow after her and see Steve and his gang spraying even more things onto the Hawk walls. 

There’s a steely look in Nancy’s eyes and you worry for a moment that she might hurt someone. It’s not that you don’t think it’s warranted, but you’re sure Jonathan’s boss has already called the cops on the teens and they’ll be here soon. Nancy can’t afford to get into any trouble right now. 

“Nancy, I don’t think you should approach–”

She ignores you and angrily marches over to Steve. 

“Hey there princess!” Carol sneers, and you have to refrain from spitting on her. Right now this is about Nancy, you need to make sure she doesn’t do anything stupid and to also ensure she knows that you’re right behind her to support her. She needs to know that you’re here for her. 

“Uh oh, she looks upset.” Tommy teases. When he sees you, he lets out another cackle. “Holy shit, Harrington. You were right! Henderson really is a pathetic push over if she’s here with the girl who slept with her boyfriend!” 

Tommy’s words enrage you and you’re about to just say fuck it to your no violence policy when Steve shuts him up. “Knock it out, Tommy. I told you Henderson’s with us–”

Nancy’s slap catches both you and Steve off guard. Everyone gasps in shock but you start laughing, immensely proud of the girl’s strength. “Nice one, Wheeler.”

She spares you a quick glance before steering her glare back at Steve. “What is wrong with you?”

Steve clenches his jaw. “What’s wrong with me? No, what’s wrong with the two of you?”

“The two of us?” Nancy asks. Steve juts his chin in your direction and she turns around, now more confused and hurt than ever. “What does Y/N have to do with any of this?”

A lump of anxiety forms in your chest. “Nancy, I can explain–”

“I was worried about you,” Steve lets out a bitter laugh and distantly you remember saying those exact words to Jonathan a mere hour ago. You guess you understand the boy more than you may want to. “I can’t believe that I was actually worried about you.” 

Nancy opens her mouth to respond but Steve cuts her off, now walking towards you. “And you… I always knew you were too nice for your own good, but defending the girl who stole your boyfriend?” He hovers over you; you can smell his expensive cologne this close as he says his next words so low that they almost come out as a whisper, “well, I expected more from you, Y/N.”

You freeze, overwhelmed with his presence. He lingers, you’ve never been this close to him, his eyes are darker than Jonathan’s and filled with more disappointment than anger. You know he can see right through you in a way that fucking terrifies you; he knows. 

“What are you talking about?” Nancy exclaims, effectively breaking whatever moment was going on between you and Steve. He backs away, his eyes still lingering on yours, before facing Nancy once more. 

Your words catch in your throat, still reeling from your encounter with Steve, so it’s Carol who breaks the silence. “I wouldn’t lie if I were you. You don’t want to be known as the lying slut now, do you?”

“Don’t call her that,” you manage to say, though you can’t seem to stop looking at Steve, who is looking right back at you. 

“Speak of the devil,” Tommy’s voice alerts you of Jonathan’s arrival. You look up and see what the idiot has written on the wall behind him.

“‘Byers is a perv’? Wow, you guys are geniuses when it comes to insults.” You snort, feeling Jonathan place his hand on the small of your back to steady you. He can sense your anger brewing. 

“It’s okay, bug.” He whispers. You relax a bit into him, but you’re still fuming. Steve watches the interaction with an interest in his eyes that lets you know Jonathan’s tenderness with you has only pissed him off more. 

Steve points at the two of you, looking around at his friends. “Aww, how sweet. You guys see that? Tell me, Henderson. Did he whisper sweet nothings into your ear after he slept with my girlfriend?”

Both Jonathan and Nancy speak at once. He denies you two being together while Nancy now understands that Steve had seen her and Jonathan in her room last night. 

“Henderson and I both, actually.” Steve corrects, and you want to punch him. 

Jonathan turns to you, guilt creeping into his voice. “You saw?”

“Now isn’t really the time, we need to help Nancy–”

“Look, I don’t know what you think you saw, but it wasn’t like that.” Nancy says, looking at Steve and then you. “I promise, Y/N. Nothing happened.”

Steve rolls his eyes. “Right, that’s what Henderon said. You just let him into your room to… study?”

“I was telling the truth.” You grit out, but Steve and the others ignore you.

Tommy steps in front of you and Jonathan. “Or for another pervy photo session?”

Jonathan steps towards the boy but you grab his jacket, not allowing him to go any further. You understand he’s angry, but just like how he won’t let you do anything stupid: you won’t let him, either.

Nancy shakes her head furiously. “We were just–”

“You were just what? Finish that sentence,” Steve steps closer to Nancy now and you find yourself preparing to step between them if needed. “Finish. The. Sentence.” 

The only sound in the alley is the sound of Nancy panting. She can’t think of what to say, what can she even say? Steve won’t believe her regardless. To him, she’s already done the unspeakable and hurt him in the worst way imaginable. You feel for the two of them, no one can possibly win in this situation. 

When Nancy doesn’t say anything, the angry expression on Steve’s face slips for a moment and you see the heartbroken boy underneath his mask. It happens only for a second, but you see it. You know you saw it. 

“Go to hell, Nancy.” He scoffs. 

“Harrington, you don’t mean that.” You say, trying to help him out. He’ll regret burning this bridge with Nancy, you can see how deeply he cares for her. He loves her, even if he can’t admit it. If he walks away now, he could lose her. 

While you’re talking to Steve, Jonathan breaks free from your grasp and pulls Nancy away, which only seems to upset him more. 

“You said yourself that we aren’t friends, Henderson. You don't know me. As for you, Byers, I always took you for a queer. I guess you’re just a little screw-up like your father.” 

Steve begins to push Jonathan now, but Jonathan has harshly grabbed your arm to pull you away. He doesn't want you involved in this, you know he just wants to get you and Nancy safely out of the situation, but you resist him anyways and try to push at Steve.

“What, you're gonna help your douche of a boyfriend?” Steve sneers at you, and Jonathan will definitely leave bruises on your arm with how tightly he has to hold you back. “Oh, yeah. That house is full of screw-ups.”

He pushes Jonathan again and this time you manage to spit at his feet. “Shut the fuck up, Harrington.”

“I’m just telling the truth. You know, I guess I shouldn’t really be surprised. A bunch of screw-ups in your family.”

Jonathan stops now. You do the same. Nancy sees this and urges you to keep walking, but you and him exchange a look. You hate violence, you really do, but the Byers family is your own family. Aside from how protective you are of them, you also know the anger that Jonathan has buried within him. If Steve keeps pushing it, you’re afraid of what Jonathan may do.

“I mean, your mom? I’m not even surprised what happened to your brother.” 

You hate violence. You could never, ever hurt anyone. But you’re starting to feel really fucking close to understanding why people seem to enjoy it. “Leave his mom and Will out of this.” 

Steve ignores you and continues spewing bullshit. Jonathan is tense next to you and it’s only now that you notice his clenched fists and his ragged breathing. Steve has gone too far.

“Steve, shut up!” Nancy begs as you now leave Jonathan’s side to begin pushing Steve back. A fight cannot break out. It’s broad daylight and too risky. You can’t let Jonathan put himself in danger. 

“Harrington, you need to leave.” You urge him as you push against his chest, but he just gently pushes you aside and follows after Jonathan.

“But the Byers?” He keeps hitting Jonathan’s back and you have to use all your weight to pull him away. It’s no use. “Their family, it’s a disgrace to the entire–”

Jonathan’s punch lands perfectly upon Steve’s face.

In any other moment, you’d find the accuracy incredibly hot. 

Instead you push the thoughts aside and rush over to him while Steve regains his composure. “Bee, listen to me. Cops could be here any second, you can’t fight–”

You scream as Steve tackles Jonathan onto the car and then the ground. Nancy begs them to stop and has to wrap her arms around you to keep you out of the fight. The sound of skin hitting skin sickens you. 

“Nancy let me go,” Steve lands another punch on Jonathan and the sound his head makes when it hits the ground causes you to cry out. 

“Y/N, Jonathan wouldn’t want you to jump in–”

“I have to help him!” The pure anguish in your voice is what makes Nancy finally let you go. You immediately rush over and try to pry Steve off of your friend, but he doesn’t see you approach and almost lands a blow at your face. 

Jonathan sees this and grunts out, “don’t touch her,” before punching Steve in the face once more and throwing him off. They’re both standing now as Steve’s friends egg the fight on and Nancy pleads for them to stop. You tug at the boys’ clothes to try and break them apart, but you know you’re weak against them. You force yourself to think of something else, and right as you’ve formed a plan, Tommy is the one who steps in and punches Jonathan.

“Get out of here, man.” Steve yells, not wanting anyone to fight his battles for him. 

You slap Tommy across the face. “Fuck off!”

The boy raises his fist to punch you and you don’t have time to do anything else besides flinch and brace yourself for the hit, but Steve intercepts it. “Tommy! I said get out of here!”

You’re in a daze as you process what’s just happened, but then Jonathan starts throwing more punches and suddenly Tommy has his arms around you to hold you back. You try to break out of his grasp, but he’s a lot damn stronger than Nancy. 

All you can do is helplessly watch as your best friend beats Steve Harrington’s face in. He lands one punch, then two, then three, and for a horrifying moment you’re afraid that Jonathan might actually kill him. 

“Jonathan! Stop!” You scream, tears now streaming down your face. 

He has Steve pinned on the ground by the time the cops come. 

“Shit, the cops!” Tommy lets go of you to help break up the fight right as the two officers arrive. They struggle to get Jonathan off of Steve and somehow he manages to punch one of the cops in the nose. Of course he fucking punches a cop in the nose.

You rush over to try and help, but as soon as the cops have Jonathan you feel yet another pair of arms wrap around you. You don’t know who it is, but they start to drag you away while the cops arrest Jonathan. You try to twist around to face your assailant, thrashing and kicking. “Why do you all keep grabbing me?”

“Fuck, Henderson! Stop kicking me, I’m already bleeding!” Steve groans, still carrying you in his arms as he and his friends flee the crime scene. 

You struggle more against him, but you’re exhausted from your previous attempts of breaking up the fight and you’re still crying. You can’t do anything besides making it extremely difficult for him to carry you and throw out a multitude of insults and cuss words. You have to get to Jonathan.

Once they’re a few yards away, they slow down and Steve finally places you back on the ground, though his arms remain around you. You manage to free your own arms and begin punching him in the chest. “Let go of me! Jonathan just got arrested because of you!” Every word you say is followed by a punch. 

“Jesus Henderson! I just saved your ass, quit it!”

“Saved my ass? You just beat up my best friend and he’s bleeding and needs my help and–”

“He’s a cheater! So is Nancy! They deserve each other and if you go back there right now you’ll be arrested and they’re sure as hell aren’t worth getting arrested over!” Steve is screaming at you and shaking you by the shoulders, urging you to understand. 

“How many times do I have to tell you I’m not with Jonathan? And you’re wrong! It wasn’t like that between him and Nancy, you have to understand that.” You scream back at him, faintly aware of Steve’s friends watching in the background. 

He runs a hand through his hair. “I’m not a fucking idiot, Y/N.” 

“You sure about that?” 

“God, you’re so naive.” Steve shakes his head. “It’s always the nice ones who are the most naive.”

His words cut through you; you look him in the eyes, “Get fucked, Harrington.” 

Steve lets go of you, surprised by your words while his friends gasp. “I was just trying to help.”

His voice is soft, as if he’s afraid to admit this to you, and you know that in his own way he means it. Steve had only been trying to help, but he hurt the people you love in the process. You hesitate, unsure how to respond.

Steve’s looking at you now and you can see all the cuts and bruises on his face. You want to wipe all the blood away, to stitch him up and place him somewhere safe so that nothing else can hurt him. You want to do all of this and more as he stares at you and silently begs you to stay, but you can’t. You shake your head at him and once again his mask slips; he’s just a scared teenage boy.

You want to reach out, to grab his hand and remind him that he’s good, but you don’t.

Instead, you turn away and run back towards the alley and Jonathan.

-

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[daisynik7]

The Takada-Chan Handshake Event

Pairing: Aoi Todo x f!reader

Rating: Mature

Word Count: ~3.5k

cw: explicit language, suggestive dialogue, switch POVs (reader is in 2nd person, Todo is in 3rd)

Summary: Takada-Chan’s first Handshake Event of the summer goes better and worse than you expect.  

Author's Notes: Here’s Chapter 2! Thank you everyone who has supported this series so far. Likes, reblogs, and/or comments are always appreciated, would love to hear what y’all think so far of the story! Thank you for reading! Divider credit to @/saradika.

Previous Chapter | Masterlist | Next Chapter

Two weeks after the concert, Takada-Chan hosts her first Handshake Event of the summer in a convention center twenty minutes away. It’s currently six in the morning as you stand outside the doors, a thermos full of hot coffee in one hand and a small tote bag of your belongings in another. Because of your sour experience at the concert, you plan thoroughly today, deciding to arrive at the convention center. Six hours early. 

Basic logic and reasoning are clouded by your extreme dedication to this pop idol. This is what you realize as you wait outside the building at the crack of dawn, still half asleep. The only solace you find in your current predicament is that you are first. No one can stand in front of you this time.

You packed all the essentials you need to make the next several hours pass by quickly. A small blanket to lay flat on the ground, marking your territory. The pillow to cushion your bottom from the hard pavement. Even snacks and a small bento for lunch for when you get hungry. No matter what the circumstance, you are not leaving this spot. 

Settling in comfortably into your makeshift camp, you start one of Takada-Chan’s concert specials downloaded on your phone. With no one around yet, you listen to it out loud without headphones, nodding your head along to the beat of the music. Fortunately, with Takada-Chan as a welcomed distraction, the first hour flies by. 

7 AM. Five more hours to go. There are a few people around now, walking by to kickstart their day, though no one falls in line behind you. Good. You pat yourself on the back for being here ahead of everyone else. If that’s not true dedication, you don’t know what is! You check your text messages from Sara, sending her a selfie of you holding a peace sign along with a message saying, “Early bird gets the worm!”

You don’t expect a response right away, considering she’s still asleep on a Saturday morning, like a normal person. She thinks this isn’t worth waking up at the ass-crack of dawn just to receive a handshake. In fact, her exact words to you were, “You’ve got to be out of your fucking mind.”

Maybe you are, but you don’t care. Most people have hobbies or interests they would do crazy things for. This is fun for you. You are willing to do it. Would it be nice if you had someone that shared the same level of interest you have for Takada-Chan? Sure, because you won’t have to keep dragging Sara around with you, subjecting her to your ridiculousness. While she is generally a good sport about it, you’d feel significantly less guilty if she actually liked Takada-Chan as much as you. You don’t blame her at all for not wanting to be with you right now, especially in these conditions.

At 7:30, you hear footsteps walking towards you. It’s a young man with spiky, pink hair wearing a yellow tee and blue shorts, seemingly a few years younger than you. He falls in line behind you, leaning against the wall. When you look up at him from your seated position, he gives you a friendly smile, waving. “Hello.”

You return his greeting happily. “Good morning.” 

After formal introductions, where you find out his name is Yuji Itadori, he puts his hands in his pockets and sighs. “Can’t believe you’re here earlier than me. What time did you get here?”

“6:00 AM,” you answer.

He lets out a whistle. “Dang. Dedicated fan, huh?”

You laugh as you stand up, matching him. “Yeah, I guess you could say that. The last event was completely ruined for me, so I learned from my mistakes.” 

His expression becomes curious. “What happened the last time?”

“I was at her mall concert two weeks ago. This massive guy blocked my view the entire time, refusing to move.”

He buries his face in his hand, shaking his head and chuckling. “Sounds like Todo.”

Your eyes widen, recognizing the name. “That’s him! He screamed out to her as she walked off stage! Is he really your friend?”

“Were you near the front of the stage?” After you confirm with a nod, he adds, “Yup, that was him. Oh man. Sorry, but Todo will do anything for Takada-Chan. You stood no chance at all.”

The rage from that confrontation comes surging back, still fresh and hot on your mind. You groan, frustrated. “Ugh, I can’t believe that guy is your friend! He’s such a jerk!” 

He shrugs, stating plainly, “That’s Todo. When it comes to Takada-Chan, he gets pretty crazy.”

You cross your arms over your chest, pouting. “Well, I hope I never have to see him again. Sorry, I know he’s your friend, but I can’t have another event ruined for me.”

Itadori flashes you a guilty glance, mumbling, “Well, actually…”

Suddenly, a voice booms out from the distance. “Brother! I got coffee and donuts!” Oh hell no. It’s him, the asshole! Why? Why is this happening to you? You planned today out perfectly! The giant meathead struts to his pink-haired friend, as cocky and aggravating as the first time you saw him. You turn around so your back is facing the two men behind you, desperately hoping the idiot doesn’t recognize you. In a panic, you take your phone out and text Sara:

SOS NEED BACKUP ASAP 

also, can you please bring me a donut

~~~

Todo orders two iced coffees and a half dozen classic glazed donuts from the café across the street. Today is off to a great start; he managed to convince his best friendo to wake up early and stand in line with him for Takada-Chan’s Handshake Event. This isn’t his first; in fact, he’s quite the regular at these type of events. Hopefully the idol actually remembers him this time. 

Balancing all the treats in his hands, he walks to the convention center, certain that they’ll be first in line. There’s no other fan dedicated enough to wait hours before the event starts just for a handshake. Only heloves Takada-Chan enough to do that. So, it’s a major surprise when he finds someone already ahead of Yuji, literally camped there with a blanket and pillow. 

He announces his presence, approaching Yuji to stand next to him, inspecting the person before them. In the lowest voice he can muster, he whispers, “Is this person here for the event?”

Yuji rubs the back of his neck, replying in a hushed voice, “Yeah, she’s been here since 6 AM.”

“What?!” Todo yells, completely abandoning any discretion. He glares at the woman ahead. Who is this chick? How dare she claim the first spot in line! That should be his!

He pushes past Yuji, tapping on the woman’s shoulder. “Ahem, are you in line for Takada-Chan?”

“Yes”, she responds, not moving a muscle. 

“Well, you see, I’m Takada-Chan’s #1 fan. I’ve known her since middle school. She’s actually my future wife. That being said, I think that I should be first.”

No response. She remains motionless, refusing to even glance back at him. The nerve. 

Growing impatient, he asks, “So, think we can switch?” 

Finally, she cranes her head just enough to peer at him. “Nope,” she answers, facing forward again. What. The. Fuck?! 

A little louder now, he cajoles, “Come on, don’t be like this. You’re going to deny her #1 fan his rightful spot?”

“Not my problem,” she says, venom laced in her tone. Why does this interaction sound familiar?

It all comes rushing back to him. In the same nanosecond it takes for him to imagine fake scenarios from his childhood, his mind returns to an actual memory from two weeks ago. He uttered those exact words to that short girl who was behind him at the concert. The girl who argued with him, called him an idiot and an asshole. This is the same girl. The loser. 

His rival. 

If she thinks she can compete with him in this battle to be Takada-Chan’s #1 fan, she has another thing coming. No one beats Aoi Todo in a contest. No one. And when it comes to the pop idol, there isn’t another living entity in the world that can match his devotion to her. He accepted her rejection in middle school for crying out loud, a fact that all people except Todo continue to dispute. This gal has no idea what she just got herself into. 

Through gritted teeth, Todo growls, “So it’s gonna be like this? Fine. I hope you don’t mind me singing then. I’ve been told I’m tone-deaf, but if I sing loud enough, I’m sure I’ll hit the right notes!” He starts his playlist on his phone, maximizing the volume. In his biggest voice, he begins belting the first song, Love Gem. Yuji hides behind his palms, embarrassed.

She whips around, finally meeting him face-to-face, yelling, “Oh fantastic! I love this song! I hope you don’t mind me joining in!” Her singing is even louder than Todo, which surprises him. He can admit that she carries a tune better than he could, but still, it’s annoying.

They go at it for about thirty minutes, two noisy, obnoxious adults angrily screaming Takada-Chan lyrics at each other. Todo even tries to play some underground tracks that he thought only he knew, but she perfectly recites it with a raised eyebrow, willing to accept whatever challenge he presents to her. 

Seriously, who is this chick?

~~~

It’s been a half hour long battle of attrition against the imbecile, to which you think you’ve won. Todo seems winded, strands from his neat bun coming loose, sweat beading off his forehead. It doesn’t surprise you since the guy has been straight up screaming at you for thirty minutes. 

Sara finally arrives, carrying a backpack with another small bag in hand. She approaches cautiously, ending the bizarre singing match. Todo huffs and puffs, glaring at you as you catch your own breath. “I could hear you from down the street,” she says, smirking. “Sounded like two sentient cats starring in their own musical. Imagine my disappointment finding out it’s just you two,” She passes you the bag, carrying a donut inside, as well as a water bottle she retrieves from her backpack. “Thank you,” you say, taking a swig. 

“So, what is going on here?” she asks, pointing at you, then at Todo. 

“This idiot asked me to switch spots with him even though I was here first. He thinks he deserves it, or whatever.”

Todo interrupts. “I don’t think, I know I deserve it!”

“I wasn’t talking to you, idiot!” you yell back. 

“Stop calling me an idiot!”

“Stop being an idiot then!”

Sara, once again, steps between you, intervening. “Cut it out. You are adults, act like it. You two are going to be here for the next four hours, do you really want to waste your energy bickering with each other?”

You pout, knowing she’s right. It’s difficult containing your pettiness with him; something about him really grinds your gears.

Eventually, Todo’s grimace softens, muttering a reluctant, “Fine.” 

Sara looks at you, waiting. You roll your eyes, obliging. “Fine.”

She claps her hands with a smile, as if she just solved world peace. “Alright! Now shake on it. Did you even introduce yourselves yet? Shouldn’t the top two Takada-Chan fans at least know each other’s names?”

He grunts, extending his large palm to you. You grab hold of it, surprised at how soft his skin is. The two of you shake hands slowly, stating your names, neither of you letting go. Letting go means you concede. Letting go means you lose. 

He tugs you slightly forward, whispering, “You may be first in line, but I’m still Takada-Chan’s #1 fan.” He gives you a smirk, tightening his grip on you.

Feeling bold, you clench him tighter, also pulling him closer, using all your strength to move his mountain of a body. You’re practically nose-to-nose now. “Have fun waiting in second place, behind Takada-Chan’s true #1 fan,” you retort, returning his annoying smirk with one of your own. His eye twitches, annoyed with you. Sara groans beside you while Itadori cackles, amused. 

The next couple of hours elapse normally, thanks to Sara’s presence and the distraction of the two behind you. Sara and Itadori seem to get along well as they chat with one another in line, laughing often. Todo and you stay firmly in your spots, listening to your own Takada-Chan playlists on your headphones. Occasionally you’ll exchange irked glances, arms crossed, guards still up. No matter what, you won’t let him win whatever bizarre competition you currently find yourselves in.   

More fans line up and by 11 AM, the convention center opens, workers directing you inside. By this time, Sara and Yuji leave, neither friend intending to stay for the actual event. You are led through velvet ropes until you see a small table set up in front of a black backdrop. This must be where Takada-Chan will greet people with a handshake. By 11:45 AM, you can’t help but tremble with excitement. 

Todo scoffs obnoxiously. “Something funny?” you ask, facing him. 

“For a self-proclaimed #1 fan, you make it so obvious that you’ve never been to one of these before. It’s comical,” he says, eyebrow raised at you. 

You scowl at him. “Just because this is my first one, doesn’t make me less of a fan.”

“Actually, it does. I’ve been to so many of these, I’ve lost count. The fact that you haven’t been to any, and you still stand here claiming to be #1. It’s pathetic.”

It takes all the resolve you have to keep calm. Only fifteen minutes to go. You’ve managed to last the past four hours with this asshole breathing down your neck. Don’t let him ruin it now. “You can think whatever you want. I know in my heart how much I love Takada-Chan. You can’t take that away from me,” you argue, voice wavering with animosity. 

“Love? If you think your love for Takada-Chan exceeds mine, then you’re more delusional than I initially gave you credit for.” 

He really knows how to get under your skin. Where are Sara’s brass knuckles when you need them? “Alright, I get it, you’re in love with Takada-Chan. Creep. I admit, I haven’t been to many events yet, but we all have to start somewhere. Plus, I already proved to you that I know the lyrics to all her songs, even her underground stuff. Don’t think I didn’t notice you testing me earlier.”

He lets out a barking laugh. “Yeah okay, that was impressive. But you still have a lot to learn before you can call yourself a true fan. I can teach you a few things if you want.” 

“And why would I want that?”

He leans in close, grinning, a wicked look in his eyes. “I’m a pretty good teacher,” he says in a low voice. “I’m sure there’s a lot you can learn from me.” 

Something about the way he says it is intriguing, almost enticing. You remember he is an absolutely douchebag, so the thought passes quickly. “I know everything I need to know about Takada-Chan, thank you very much.”

“Oh really?” he challenges, rapid firing questions about Takada-Chan, to which you answer perfectly. This occupies your time until you hear the other fans in the crowd start to scream. You didn’t even notice Takada-Chan walk into the room because this moron distracted you. But lo-and-behold, there she is, posing in front of the black backdrop, cute as ever. You turn away from Todo, frown literally turning upside down into the brightest smile, in awe that she’s right in front of you.

The security guard beckons you to the table. Your hands jitter with excitement as you walk towards her, stuttering, “Hi Takada-Chan!”

The pop idol smiles politely. “Hi there! Does your boyfriend want to come up with you?” 

Confused, you respond, “Huh? My boyfriend?”

She points at Todo, standing in the front now with a delighted expression on his face, gawking at Takada-Chan. You wave your hands, trying to explain. “No, no, he’s not my – ”

She cuts you off. “I just love couples! It’s rare to see female fans, but it’s even more rare to see couples! How adorable! I love it so much!” she beams, motioning to Todo. Bewildered, he slowly steps towards the table, standing beside you, blushing.

“Aw, you two are just the cutest!” She shakes both of your hands enthusiastically. From your peripheral, you can see Todo glowing, completely unaware of the context.

Takada summons one of her security guards, requesting, “Can you grab a few posters from my dressing room?” The man nods, walking to the back room. She faces you and giggles. “I wasn’t supposed to give any posters away until my next event, but I’ll make an exception for you two.” She winks, and you’re almost certain yours and Todo’s hearts will soon burst from your chests.

“Thank you so much, Takada-Chan!” you say in unison, tears in your eyes. 

“Of course! How about a Taka-Tan Beam? You have your phones ready?”

You and Todo absolutely lose it. He holds his phone out, hands trembling, actual tears rolling down his cheeks. You shuffle around your purse to retrieve your phone, also shaking, ready to record.

“Ready? Taka-Tan Beam!” she exclaims, flashing her signature pose. 

The two of you clap your hands enthusiastically, praising her. Talented, brilliant, incredible, amazing, show stopping, spectacular… 

The security guard comes back carrying posters rolled up under his arm. He hands them to the pop idol, who then gives them to you. “Thank you so much for coming!”

Todo leans forward, palms on the table. “Thank you, Takada-Chan! Thank you! Thank you!”

“Thank you, Takada-Chan!” you repeat, pulling Todo by the sleeve of his shirt to the exit with you. As you leave, he bows continuously towards the idol, who waves farewell kindly. 

Once outside, you find a bench to sit at. Todo is nearly foaming at the mouth, still unaware of what just happened. You hand him half of the posters, which he takes without looking at you.

“Taka-Tan. Beam,” he mutters in his catatonic state. His gaze is completed glazed over.

“Hey, Todo. Snap out of it,” you say, waving your hand in front of his face to get his attention. When that fails, you bop his head with one of the rolled-up posters.

“Huh?” He finally comes to, focusing on you. 

You laugh. “I can’t believe that just happened.”

“I can’t believe it either. But what was she saying exactly? I was too distracted by her beauty…” he trails off. You tap him again before he goes into a trance.

“She thought we were a couple,” you explain. 

“EH?”

“Yeah. I guess she saw us bickering in line and just assumed,” you elaborate, shrugging.

“She gave us special treatment,” Todo muses, stroking his chin, contemplating. 

What a turn of events. As much as you despise this man, being associated with him worked out the best for you in this particular instance. Takada-Chan thinks you two are a cute couple and she likes it, so much that she gave you exclusive items and extra attention. The sparkle in her eyes was mesmerizing as she performed the Taka-Tan Beam. It went better than you could have ever imagined.

Todo starts to speak, bringing you out of your reverie. “Look, I’m not that keen on Takada-Chan thinking I’m taken, especially by you. But since she can’t date right now anyways, I guess I don’t mind pretending. As long as we keep getting her attention.” 

“What are you saying? You want to pretend to be a couple?”

“Only for Takada-Chan events. Obviously.” There’s that smug look again. 

Eyebrows furrowed, you comment, “What, am I not good enough for you?”

He stands up, towering over you with a shit-eating grin on his face. “I know you’re not good enough for me.”

Hot rage tingles in your belly. What a fucking asshole. On your feet, you only come up to his chest, so you tilt your gaze up to glare at him. “You couldn’t handle me anyways, you fucking prick.” 

He leans down, his breath tickling your skin as he whispers, “I hope you don’t kiss anyone with that dirty mouth of yours.”

You get on your tippy-toes, closing the gap even more, challenging him. You swallow hard, not sure how to respond, but not afraid to back down. He holds your gaze, his mouth twitching slightly as his grins.

All of sudden, you’re very aware of how provocative this situation might look to an outsider. You feel it yourself. Whatever this angry tension is, it’s sort of… 

Okay brain, stop thinking like this. You hate this man. Despise him. Angry thoughts. Angry. 

He doesn’t relent. If you’ve learned anything about this beast the two times you’ve encountered him, he will notback down from a challenge. And knowing yourself, you won’t be able to keep up with him. But you can try. “I’d rather eat shit than be your fake girlfriend,” you hiss at him. You grab your purse and stomp off, leaving him behind. 

“Ha, then don’t expect my help at the next Takada-Chan event!” he yells out. 

As you walk to the train station, you make a promise to yourself to never interact with this oaf ever again. 

[hollygracesworld]

Lover | Patrick Wilson x Fem!reader

(SEQUEL)

previous part click here CHAPTER 1 // CHAPTER 2

Summary : You and Patrick had a one night stand a few months ago. And now you’re 6 months pregnant. You don't expect to meet the father of your child because you’re a woman who prefers to be alone. But fate said otherwise, you meet again with the father who made your stomach grow big.

And you stupidly didn’t know that he was an actor.

Warning : smut, fingering, rough sex, unprotected sex, p in v sex, breeding kink.

It's been 6 weeks since the birth of your twins. Of course Patrick which the father of your baby…has his responsibility, not only focusing his attention on your babies but also he takes care of you.

He took a full 1 month off work after you gave birth. You feel safe with him, in his house in New Jersey. You decided to stay with Patrick because you realized that taking care of two twins born in your own womb was more difficult than taking care of your uncle’s baby twins.

Your belly started to shrink, but not completely. You don’t really care about your appearance, all you think about is your children. In the last 2 weeks, Patrick has started shooting for the Conjuring 4 film project.

You don’t blame him for that. Patrick was actually worried about leaving you alone to work, but you tried to convince Patrick that you were fine and you could take care of your children at home. Although sometimes Patrick likes to come home late at night, even coming home the next morning.

You try to understand and don’t want to burden him. After all, you are both just dating, not yet a married couple.

That night, as usual, Patrick came home late. You are just overwhelmed with taking care of your two babies who have difficulty sleeping and keep crying. but exactly at 11 o'clock they were fast asleep. and a few minutes later Patrick knocked on the door and you found him looking very tired.

“How’s the twins, hon?” Patrick asked then he walked towards the baby box and saw that your babies were fall asleep.

“It’s good that you see them when they’re calm and sleepy, not when they crying loudly.” You said and then Patrick kissed your forehead softly.

You quickly made him some tea as he sat on the sofa.

“Very tiring day, huh?” Patrick muttered then started to turn on the TV which displayed the latest news. “You must be very tired looking after our twins. I’m sorry, I wasn't here just now...”

“Patrick...” you replied, handing him the still warm cup of tea and sitting next to him, “you’re also tired from work and I would understand that.” You unbuttoned the top of Patrick's shirt so that Patrick wouldn't get hot.

“Would you still understand if I was forced to act in a romantic scene and kiss the lips of someone else?”said Patrick while lowering his head. You can see how frustrated he is.

You held his hand, “Patrick... you are a professional actor, that is your job. I don’t have a problem with that as long as you can keep your heart for me.”

“That’s not it,” said Patrick, looking straight into your eyes, “I feel I’m no longer be professional for doing that scene. The director said that I no longer have chemistry with Vera on screen. That’s a bad thing.

“...the kiss scene was re-recorded continuously because I couldn’t do it well. Even though the genre of the film is Horror, I couldn't do it.”

“Why?” a stupid word somehow comes out of your mouth even though you already know the answer.

“I’m getting more and more crazy about you,” said Patrick honestly. He looked at you with a pitiful face, “I’m too pushy to work even though I still want with you here. I...”

Patrick touched your cheek and rubbed it, “I love you.” a sentence that he had never said in a long time and finally said it.

You froze. You don’t know how to react. When you started to open your mouth, Patrick continued, “I really love you. I want to quickly finish the last film in the Conjuring trilogy so I can...”

Patrick stopped. He felt his mouth pulling him to say the next sentence. You raised an eyebrow, “so you can what?”

“So that I can,” Patrick mumbled, his voice getting deeper, his eyes darkening, “I can marry you, have all of you.”

You felt his lips meet yours. He kissed you gently then over time his kisses got hotter and Patrick’s mouth became more aggressive.

Patrick carried your body towards your bedroom. He kissed your lips then laid you down on the bed. You felt his soft hands slowly open your nightgown to admire every inch of your body.

“You’re so beautiful, hon,” Patrick couldn’t stop kissing your body. He kissed your belly, a belly that has given birth to his baby twins. He kissed your chest, then your nipples, he moved up to kiss your collarbone.

He inhales the scent of your musk perfume and you feel his breath rising and falling around your neck, “I've been waiting for this for a long time...” his left hand holds and squeezes your butt, while his right hand grabs your leg to move your body position.

He took off your panties slowly. You can feel one of his fingers on your clit and he rubs it. You’re moaning. And then Patrick starts to insert his two hands into your cunt while his thumb now takes over rubbing your clit.

He starts playing with his finger which controls your cunt. Your cunt is so wet, it soaks your sheets. You continued to moan, then you felt his tongue now rubbing your clit with fast movements. You moan louder as his tongue begins to lick your cunt deliciously.

“Patrick…” you said in a low voice. You couldn’t stop moaning because his tongue was moving faster and faster in your cunt, “Patrick, please...”

Patrick stopped, and he saw that your cunt had soaked almost half of your sheets. Patrick started to open the buckle and then the button of his trousers roughly, and he was now kissing your neck hungrily.

You groaned in pain as he started biting your neck. Both of your hands are now trying to unbutton Patrick’s shirt as his big hard cock now enters your wet cunt.

You can see Patrick’s perfect six pack body in front of you now. Patrick hugged your body, while speed up his fucking movements.

“I will fill your belly with my baby again,” said Patrick in a rough and deep voice. His blue eyes getting darker, looking at you with a look of hunger and lust, “I will make you suffer again because you have to carry my baby for 9 months.”

You shed tears because you felt his huge cock going in and out of your vagina with increasingly fast movements. You felt his breathing getting faster and rougher in your ear, “you understand that, hon? I will give you my baby again in your stomach.”

You nodded slowly. And then he smiled and kissed your lips, “good girl,”

Then he turns your body around, and now the position is doggy style. He inserts his hard cock into your cunt. He’s now riding you while both of your hands are held by him.

You moaned louder, then you felt his lips kiss the back of your neck gently, then slowly you felt his hand strangle your neck.

“Patrick...”you moaned in a low voice, his penis going in and out of your vagina from behind, “Patrick, I want to cum.”

Patrick’s hands squeezed your butt and hit it, “Wait, hon.”

He squeezed your ass, speeding up his movements making you even more overwhelmed and you groaning in pain but it was all worth it after you both cum together. He’s really cum in your wet cunt.

You’re both tired. Patrick takes out his cock then you can see his sperm is still spilling even though he has put it inside.

He laid his body and yours at the same time. He hugged you warmly from behind while both of your bodies were covered by the blanket now.

“That was amazing,” you said.

Patrick kissed your neck gently and tightened his embrace, “I love you, hon, I really love you.”

You smiled, “I love you too...” then you both drifted off to sleep in a sparkling night.

—

[slut4els]

here’s me slipping into ur inbox! u don’t have to do this if you don’t want to, but here’s a little request i have!

loser!ellie who’s like the notorious shit-head of your neighborhood. always playing her music too loud, you can tell she’s coming cause you’ll hear her skating, and if she sees you at the park she messes with you and tries to impress you with tricks! (falls on her ass)

ofc ill do this tysm for the req (btw ily and ur writing sm !!)

i got a little carried away but i hope this is atleast somewhat what you were envisioning <33

ellie is lowk kinda stalker ish and theres also some smut so mdni !!

loser!neighbor!ellie who made her presence known shortly after moving in when you were just about to fall asleep on a saturday when you heard and felt the bass of music and the sound of people just two houses away.

loser!neighbor!ellie who when you confront about the obnoxiously loud music and guests apologizes but her next party she makes the music louder on purpose and invites more people 100% out of spite and definitely not in hopes that you’ll scold her again.

loser!neighbor!ellie who keeps apologizing when shes confronted about it but never actually does anything about it so after your third or fourth try you just gave up and invested in some earplugs that barely work

loser!neighbor!ellie that skateboards by your house every morning while your out on your porch checking the mail or watering plants just to have an excuse to see you in your pajamas and wave at you and if shes lucky enough she’ll muster up enough courage to say a quick mornin’ to you

loser!neighbor!ellie who acts super confident but is really terrified to talk to you and thinks you would never go out with her

loser!neighbor!ellie who ‘accidentally’ memorized your daily schedule. not because she watches you leaving for work and getting home or anything she just happens to notice when you leave when you get back what you wear who your with and makes a mental note in her mind of it. shes just a concerned neighbor! who also happens to have a whole section in her journal dedicated to you and your daily activities!

loser!neighbor!ellie who one day gained enough courage to ask for your phone number, for safety purposes of course! so she can make sure your safe and not with anyone else when you dont come home at your usual time and also occasionally invite you to her parties (that you always say no too)

loser!neighbor!ellie who when she passes by your house tries to look as cool as possible by doing tricks on her skateboard that she almost always fails and gets all red and embarrassed especially when you giggle a little bit but you find it kinda cute?

loser!neighbor!ellie who when skating by your house one morning notices you left your curtains open and looks inside to find you running around in just a bra and jeans. you were probably just running late but she stood there for a good minute just shocked watching you before she snapped herself out of it and continued skating back to her house

loser!neighbor!ellie who engraved that memory of you in her brain as best as she could and masturbated to the memory of it even moaning your name as she circled her clit. that night she came the hardest shes ever cum on her own

loser!neighbor!ellie who found your instagram and stalks it daily but one day accidentally liked one of your posts from 6 months ago and a few minutes later received a screenshot of the notification of her liking it from you with a message asking her if that account was her. she said yes and threw her phone across the room cause now you definitely think shes a stalker and will never talk to her again but when she shakily grabs her phone she sees that you’ve followed her and liked her posts going as far back as a year ago!

loser!neighbor!ellie who when skating by your house the next day was stopped by you. she felt her palms get sweaty as she thought of all the things you would say to her. is it about her stalking you on insta? or did you somehow know she saw you in your bra that one morning? or were you a mind reader that somehow knew every disgusting and unholy thought shes ever had of you. she was already planning on where she was going to move to when you finally came up to her but the last thing she expected was to be asked on a date by you. she stood there taken aback for a minute and you thought you were about to be rejected when she finally said yes and nodded her head vigorously

i just love loser ellie sm i cant i need to write her more

[peachbottom]

Not Hungry

Authors Note: I actually kind of hate this but I spent some time on it so I might as well post it. I wrote this with a similar body type to mine in mind, though it can be pictured anyway you like it does hint at a midsize/chubby reader. Give me feedback if you feel like it. Much love xoxo

Summary: You are self conscious eating in front of people so you decide to wait until you get home to eat. But unfortunate weather has you stuck at Buckys apartment and he is determined to make sure you don’t go to sleep hungry.

Warnings: food, not eating, body image, insecurities, hints at mature themes, pet names, possibly disordered eating habits, barely edited, bad formatting (pls let me know if I missed any)

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You and Bucky had been together for a little while now, about 6 months. You both agreed to take it slow due to your own situations.

You really did like Bucky, loved him even, but you still had your habits and behaviors that you used to mask your own anxieties.

For example, you don’t eat in front of people. Even Bucky, and not because you don’t trust him but because you get in your head.

You will eat food with him but never a full meal. Part of it is because you don’t want him to judge you for eating too much, too little, too fast, too slow, anything really. People have always had something to say about your body and appearance and you came up with this coping as a way to keep them from having more to judge.

It started in high school when girls would make comments that you eat too much or you always were hungry. That’s when you not only developed insecurities about your body but you’re eating as well. You would notice when you went out with friends they wouldn’t eat much and you didn’t want to be the one eating more than everyone else.

So whenever you were with Bucky he would always suggest getting food or having a snack. Who knew super soldiers that workout all the time eat so much. Your reaction to this was always say you’re not hungry, you ate before you came over, you didn’t feel good, you had a list of excuses. You never ate more than a couple bites or a small snack of anything. You would always wait to eat when you got home.

Thankfully your relationship was young and you were taking things slow, you had never spent more than a day together and never spent the night at each other’s places. That was until one night when it was quite stormy and dark.

…

You and Bucky were sitting in his apartment on his couch, you had your legs tucked under you and were snuggled up to his side, head on his chest, with his arm around you. You were very comfortable and very warm, your eyes started getting heavy and you felt truly at peace in his arms.

Bucky starts rubbing up and down your arm to get your attention, he turns his head away from the tv screen in front of you and looks down at your curled up form tucked into his side.

“Hey it’s getting kinda late, I would say maybe you would want to go home but I don’t like you going out in this weather. How would you feel about maybe staying the night?”

You reach out for your phone on the table in front of you to check the time. It’s 11pm and it’s storming out. Rain is coming down hard, wind whipping, and it’s freezing out, he has a point you don’t really want to go through the city in this weather at this time of night.

You think about what he said, about staying the night. It sounds so nice being able to fall asleep next to him, but you can’t help but think about the pain in your stomach. Your so hungry, and eating in front of him seems so embarrassing, especially to have to ask for food. You planned to just eat when you went home, when Buck had ordered food earlier he asked what you wanted you said you weren’t really hungry you had a late lunch. The truth was you were hungry and you forgot to eat before you came over, you figured it would be fine though because you could just wait until you got home. Now that won’t be until tomorrow morning.

“Yeah, I mean I would love to stay if it’s not too much of a hassle”

He smiles from ear to ear throwing his arms around you and pulling you into him.

“Oh yeah! I get my girl all night now”

You can’t help but laugh at his goofy reaction, he’s truly such a sweet soul. You are laying half in his lap as he gently kisses your head, turns you around and places you so your head is laying in his lap looking up at him.

“This is so exciting, this is our first time spending a night together. I’ll get you some clothes to change into and you can shower if you want, are you hungry because you haven’t eaten anything all day.”

You simply smile up at him as he softly tucks your hair behind your ear.

“I’m okay, I told you I had a late lunch. And im not ready to go to bed yet can we stay like this for a little longer”

Still playing with your hair and looking down at you with a sweet smile he responds. “I’d be happy to stay like this for the rest of our lives. But maybe you could eat something, even if you had a late lunch it’s been hours and i worry”

He moves his other hand to rest on your stomach, if he had tried to do that at the beginning of your relationship you would have freaked, but he’s showed you that he truly loves every part of you even the parts you are the most insecure about. You rest your hand over his on your belly to reassure him you are fine.

“I’m not hungry I’m fine.”

“But you don’t eat enough, I barely see you eat. Please just have at least a little bit for my peace of mind.”

Just as you go to open your mouth and speak you feel and hear your stomach make horrible noises as if screaming to take Bucky up on the offer of food. You just close your mouth and look away from Bucky feeling guilty for lying to his face and embarrassed for having your stomach be loud enough to drown out the television.

“Let’s go, come on im making you some dinner” He sits you up and stands in front of you with his hands out ready to take yours. You still can’t process what just happened, you are beyond embarrassed. So you look up stunned at not only his reaction but his persistence in wanting to care for you, you take both his hands and stand up.

He moves both your hands into one of his and walks you towards his kitchen island, where he pulls out a chair for you and motions for you to sit. He then rounds the counter and opens the fridge taking inventory.

“Okay so we could do spaghetti, Mac and cheese, a pb&j or a grilled cheese. Pick your poison baby” He lists off all the options and turns to look over his shoulder at you.

You look up from picking at your fingers and see him gazing back at you, waiting for an answer. “Umm whatever is easiest is fine, thank you” your response is quiet but he hears you and starts to take things out of the fridge.

As he makes you food he hums soft melodies of old songs from his childhood. Swiftly and easily moving throughout the kitchen without any hesitation or look of upset.

“Here you go doll, eat up please it’s made with extra love” he places the dish right in front of you and turns to grab you some water. On the plate in front of you is two grilled cheese sandwiches, cut into perfect triangles.

Bucky places water down next to you and then takes the seat beside you.

“Please eat” he says as he places a hand on your back rubbing up and down your spine.

“Why did you make me two, I don’t need that much.” You say in a slightly anxious way.

“Well because I didn’t know how much you wanted and I didn’t want you to be uncomfortable to ask for more if you wanted it, that’s all. Just eat what you want and leave what you don’t, it’s not big deal.”

You look at your plate, you are really hungry and it looks so good. You pick up a half and take a bite, it’s just as good as it looked. But you can’t help but feel awkward just having him watch you eat. “Will you eat too, I feel weird eating alone”

“Of course you don’t have to ask me twice I’m always ready to eat” so he picks up another half and takes a bite.

You both sit and eat in silence for a minute until he places a hand on your knee and asks you a question. “Why didn’t you just tell me you were hungry, earlier or now? I feel like your never hungry, or at least that’s what you tell me. What’s the matter baby, tell me”

You swallow the grilled cheese and take a sip of water to wash it down before speaking.

“I don’t know I feel weird asking for food, I mean I feel weird eating in front of people in general especially you. Your so..you know all muscles and hotness and I’m squishy, I guess I just didn’t want you to judge me.”

The hand in your knee grips a little tighter, “Oh baby no don’t think like that. First of all I think your all curves and hotness so don’t ever think I’ll judge you for what you look like or eat. I love you so much and I don’t want you to feel like you have to go hungry while your with me because you think I’ll judge you for eating. It doesn’t make any sense to me baby, you need to eat that’s what keeps you alive and healthy and full of energy.”

“It’s not that I don’t eat, I just don’t like eating in front of people. Maybe you think I’ll eat too much or that I don’t eat all super healthy food. People can be really mean, and I think I just developed ways to stay safe from judgment.”

He wraps his arms around you and kisses the top of your head, holding you close. “Oh honey, your always safe with me. You could tell me you wanted to eat six whole pizzas and I’d buy them for you, sit next to you and eat seven myself. You are never going to be judged by me, never I promise you. But you have to promise me that you will eat when your hungry because I worry. Can you do that?”

You lean back and look him in the eyes, nodding your head yes. “Yeah I can do that”

At this point you both finished your food and are ready to get settled in for the night. Bucky takes the dirty plate and puts it in the sink to take care of tomorrow.

You follow him to his room where he pulls out some clothes for you. He hands you a shirt and a pair of boxers then leads you to the bathroom.

“Here is all my shampoo and soapy stuff, and I there are some extra toothbrushes under the sink. Help yourself to whatever you need, and I’ll be just out there watching some tv.”

You offer him a warm smile and he leans in, grabs your jaw and places a soft kiss on your lips. He was such a good man and he did everything he could to make you comfortable. It’s like he was your saving grace ready to scrub away all the dirt and scuffs people had left on your shiny soul and bright heart. So that way he can show you how beautiful of a person you are under all the damage people have done.

While in the shower you can’t help but feel like a weight had been lifted off you after your conversation tonight. You know Bucky loves everything about you and it makes you feel like all the bad things people had ever said to you didn’t matter anymore. The one person that does matter is erasing all those negative things they ever planted in your mind.

You wash up and brush your teeth, then put on the clothes that Bucky let you borrow. The shirt hung loose over your body stopping just below your hips, the boxers were soft and comfortable.

You leave the bathroom and walk into the bedroom to see Bucky leaning back in the bed on his phone. He’s wearing a pair of shorts and no shirt, and boy does he look pretty.

“Did you have a nice shower doll?” He asks not looking your way, he then turns his head to look at you. “Oh don’t you look pretty in my clothes.”

You laugh and walk up to the edge of the bed, pull the blankets back and sit down. “Your crazy, James I swear”

“Oh first the clothes now calling me James, ughh you are doing something to me.”

You blush and look at him, both of you with goofy smiles on your face. You and him have never done anything like that before. (taking things slow, remember) So you knew he was mostly just trying to get you flustered, and it was working.

You both get fully under the blankets and snuggle up together, you being the little spoon. You were never a small girl but next to him you felt like it. It felt comfortable and safe, like you knew nothing bad could happen when he was by your side.

He rests his hand over yours on your stomach, giving it a slight rub. “Is your tummy nice and happy, she’s not hungry anymore?”

You laugh at his silly question but you know he’s serious and he really does care. “Yeah she’s good”

“Good, if my girl is happy then I’m happy. Good night my love sweet dreams.”

“Sweet dreams Bucky, I love you.”

That night you dreamt of grilled cheese, your sexy shirtless boyfriend and his caring heart. The best part is, when you wake up in the morning it’s all real and it’s all yours.

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Masterlist

[addictofreading]

Zutara Week 2022 Day 6: Closeness

She hadn’t meant to fall asleep. Yes, she wanted to stay by the fire after everyone else went to bed and she’s willing to admit it was because he intended to stay up as well. But that was only because she was tired of fighting the pull that had been tugging at her these past weeks. Ever since they’d gotten back from their journey together she’d been trying to ignore it. The near constant desire to be closer to him. She didn’t even know what she wanted to do once there, but she wanted it just the same. 

Their group was small and everyone tended to stay within a small radius of each other wherever they camped, so it wasn’t like she was ever really that far away from Zuko at any given point, but that didn’t mean she was close enough to him either. Because when they were close, she felt it. She felt the initial speeding of her heart as he offered to help prepare dinner, felt the comforting playfulness that washed over her when they inevitably started their teasing banter. She felt the tension, foreign yet not unpleasant when they tried not to share shy glances. She would try so hard not to look at him yet she always knew exactly where he was, how close, and how far he stood. 

It’s not like she meant for it to happen. They all were in the middle of a war and she obviously had more important things to think about than Zuko and how strong he looked with his shirt off when training Aang. Or how absurd it was that he could be a confident and demanding instructor one moment and a socially awkward teammate the next. She tried to keep a friendly distance, made sure she spent the same amount of time with everyone else as she always had. But she always wanted him there. 

And late at night, she’d think about how good it felt to be alone with him as they returned from hunting her mother’s murderer. Her grieving had felt raw, like a wound that had never quite scabbed over, but he knew what she needed. He knew when to stay silent, when to distract with travel logistics, when to take charge and make her sleep. What surprised her the most is when he knew she needed comfort. The quiet, easy comfort of scooting closer to her and allowing her to find her way into a soft embrace. She likely would have found comfort with anyone else in their group had they done the same. But he was the only one who had supported her quest and so was the only one there. And it just felt different with him. It felt safe in a way that was unfamiliar and yet felt so natural. 

So yes, she purposefully stayed up last night to spend time with Zuko. Because she wasn’t a complete idiot. She knew what the tugging meant and it was clear he felt it too. And yes, they were fighting a war. But did that really mean they had to fight this constant pull to be closer as well? They could spend one late night talking and for all she knew that could be enough to put an end to this feeling.

Except it didn’t. Instead, the night got later and later and they sat closer and closer. And the next thing she knew she was waking up to the pre-dawn stillness of day, tucked in close in Zuko’s arms. The ground was just as firm as always, but somehow she was too comfortable to move. She was reminded of the coldest of winter mornings when getting up and out of the perfect warmth of her bed and blankets felt like the most difficult task on earth. It had to be done. The others would be waking up soon and then there was the whole potential for embarrassing awkwardness with Zuko. But maybe…

“Um. Good morning?” Zuko’s voice is hushed and sleep rough. Katara sighs internally and makes herself sit up, moving out of the circle of his arms to look at him. The sun is just coming up behind him, making a soft halo from his mussed-up hair, and is bright enough to highlight his growing blush as he offers a lopsided smile. And nope. Katara is done pretending this pull between them is anything other than what it clearly is. She’s willing to let it take its time, to simmer on the side while more important things are dealt with, but the tugging can’t actually be fought against. Not anymore. And it feels so good to give in.

---------------------------

Happy @zutaraweek again!

So this ficlet wasn't supposed to be that long, but it just sort of ended up that way. I hope you enjoyed it! Honestly, I didn't plan on doing a second prompt this week just because the first one took longer than planned and my health has been a bit iffy, but then I had the sudden inspiration for this prompt and I just didn't want to let the week pass without trying. And I made it in time! Woot! (I may go back and tweak the image if I can pinpoint what's off about it, but woot all the same!)

Anyways, I wanted to give a shout out to the official Zutara Week mods for keeping this event going. I don't care what time of year it happens, I'm just thankful that Zutara Week is still a thing. It has become something joyous I look forward to each year and I know I'm not the only one who values the beautiful creations and the sense of community it brings. So thank you! <3

[vasito-de-leche]

iff its still alright for requests then maybe somethingg small n maybe sleepy with forget me not ? nothing specific otherwise just

sleepy eeby forget me not fic. either that or wrangling his soggy ass to sleep(for once

;R1999 FORGET ME NOT - "five minutes"

Forget Me Not x Reader. 2.8k words fluff Being in charge of The Walden has its ups and downs - Forget Me Not enjoys being the conductor of an orchestra composed of dying men and women, even if it costs him hours of precious sleep. You make sure to remind him that even the most powerful broker in Chicago deserves a little nap.

this mf has been fighting me for a month or so, it's so hard to write him SLEEPING, HE RLLY DOESNT WANT TO. I HAVE 3 DIFFERENT DRAFTS GRAAAA so here we are. I fought tooth and nail for this, theres 4 different drafts just about FMN getting some fucking sleep. this one even has like, a different version where you fall asleep on his lap instead bc he keeps FIGHTING ME

either way, ty for the request, nonnie! your ask was the perfect excuse to get this done. sorry it ended up being longer than my usual stuff, I just really love the guy

The amount of work needed to maintain an establishment like The Walden often goes unnoticed.

Its elegant ambience and decor, all the powerful and influential people to rub shoulders with, the precise and meticulous organization behind every single detail and decision - all of it can be attributed to a single man, the very same who leads the crowd and makes their drinks.

When the night arrives, he and The Walden come alive.

Hundreds of desperate rats crawl into his den, searching for things they don't deserve: money, fame, fortune, connections, assets. They want to find their place in the world before they're long forgotten, and this is when Forget Me Not steps onto the stage and finds himself in his element, surrounded by all the people who look at him in fear, disgust and awe.

Do they know? That at the end of the world, he holds their fate in the palm of his hand? Him, a simple broker, a middle man.

An inferior, an arcanist.

Of course, the high fades as soon as the sun rears its ugly head over the horizon, his spirits plummet to the ground when the world returns to that monotonous routine. All Forget Me Not can do now is wait.

He would never dream of being so careless as to have his own residence right above his workplace, but he rarely steps into his home in the first place. It's too much trouble to commute back and forth, wasting time in a building that is as devoid of warmth as the blood running through his veins. That private office nestled somewhere within The Walden has become his new safe haven, in fact - with one too many couches to lounge around and no bed in sight.

Not that he sleeps anyway.

Forget Me Not always fancied the most convoluted route into an early grave, and thus has replaced the bottle for something else: endless paperwork.

It's getting harder and harder to conceal the dark bags under his eyes for a semblance of professionalism. How very fitting that, despite all of his efforts and accomplishments, his quality of life continues to deteriorate. What a depressing thought.

The leather of his seat squeaks as he shifts, leaning backwards to fully take in the piles and piles of files atop his desk. His gaze turns to the clock just to confirm what he already knows - it's a little past 6 AM, the cold breeze of the early morning keeping him wide awake. A brand new shipment of materials will arrive in two hours, they will need to be stored but it's an easy enough job for the Disciples. This means that the next important event on his schedule is the meeting at 11 AM. Forget Me Not's face sours right away at the thought, and he reaches for his drink.

And just like that, without any sort of warning, the door to his office is flung open. It's a good thing that despite his awful, awful health, his grip is as steady as ever - not a single drop is spilled. If else, Forget Me Not remains still as a statue, retaining that air of composed aloofness as he raises an inquisitive eyebrow towards the intruder.

It's you, standing perfectly by his door frame. He almost drops the glass once he recognizes your face, but conceals his little slip by settling it back down on his desk.

"Ah, how rare to see you during the day, you're always so busy with errands. To what do I owe this loud, impromptu visit? Keep in mind, I don't start serving drinks until 8 PM."

You don't wait for him to finish, marching towards the small lounge in his office and picking up a small, decorative pillow before dropping backwards onto one of the sofas. A shadow passes over Forget Me Not's eyes - he doesn't know whether to resent you for knowing you have the freedom and privilege to act like this around him, or whether to feel insulted for the way you ignored him just now. He settles for his usual third, secret option - resignation - and makes his way towards you.

Unlike you, Forget Me Not has mastered the art of concealing his presence and so he makes no sound at all when he approaches. He stands right next you, leaning ever so slightly to hover above your face, as if his piercing grey eyes alone could pressure you into speaking.

It doesn't work, at least not right away. You hide behind that useless pillow, then you shift and turn to lay on your side, all while he simply stands in perfect silence. It's a battle of attrition, one he intends to win.

"I slept like shit, okay? Just give me five minutes here and I'll go back to work." Your voice is muffled, but he hears how tired you are anyway.

It's easy to forget that people aren't nocturnal like him, at least not by choice. It's easy to forget about humanity when most of his coworkers are puppets held by strings and ink, mindlessly following orders. When you curl up on the sofa, Forget Me Not remembers just how tired he is and sighs. Soon, he's walking towards the door.

This makes you sit up in a hurry, clearly misinterpreting his actions. "Five minutes, promise! Don't kick me out!"

There's a faint click, it's the lock on the door. Forget Me Not returns to his desk, making sure not to look your way lest his eyes reveal those wretched feelings bubbling in his chest. Did you seriously think he had the nerve to throw you out so carelessly?

"Ten minutes. Make sure not to waste them with chitchat." He can practically sense you silently cheering and getting comfortable in his office. On his couch. It's insufferable, the way you always get what you want while he slaves away with work.

But it's only ten minutes, he can tolerate you for that long.

Three minutes pass, and Forget Me Not realizes that he's spent more time glancing your way than reading the document in front of him.

From his spot, he can only see the top of your head, just a glimpse of your form as you rest your eyes. But every time you move, no matter how subtle, he notices and turns his attention back onto you.

Seven minutes, he only needs to focus for seven minutes. The document in his hand is important: he's negotiating for better materials for his potions at a cheaper cost. This simple deal could mean a lot for Manus Vindictae, always so low on funds, resources and support.

Six minutes. Forget Me Not hears you hum and he slowly turns his head on instinct. You're staring right at him, face resting on the armrest, squishing your cheek against the plush cushions.

"You have four minutes left, are you sure you want to waste them like this?" He lies, as if he wasn't ready to ignore the passage of time to give you a few more extra minutes, expecting you to comply. But you get back at him with a question of your own.

"Did you get any sleep?"

"Three minutes." It comes out as a warning. You ignore it.

"I'm serious! You look awful from here." By now, you're sitting down and he knows that if he doesn't stop you, you'll make your way to him. To invade his personal space, cradle his face in your hands and torture him with your gentle touch. "You're always here when I start my shift and when I finish. Where do you get the time to go home and all of that?"

Forget Me Not would rather swallow his own tongue than to openly admit that he essentially lives here. That he has spare clothes in the drawer by the window, that he showers, eats and sleeps in this office of his. You might've figured it out by now, but with his pride and dignity at stake, he pretends to ignore you in favour of work.

"Hey, c'mon. Don't just go back to work like I'm not even here talking to you!" He does exactly that, picking up a pen to sign a few documents. "Drop that. Drop the pen. Hey!"

You talk to him the same way one would talk to a misbehaving dog, and he hears that whiny, frustrated tone in your voice that he's come to appreciate. There is a pause and Forget Me Not does as told - the pen now resting neatly on the desk.

He finally deigns himself to look at you, returning a small smile.

"Thank you, now, like I was saying-"

Thud!

With his free hand, he stamps a document, never breaking eye contact. The pettiness is always worth it, but this time even more so when he sees that tic in your eye and the way you inhale sharply, absolutely done with him. You sit up, consider laying down again in frustration, then simply cross your arms like a child throwing a tantrum - seeing you get worked up over the smallest of things is always such a treat.

"Fine! Be like that! But don't come running when you- Uwaaah!" A yawn interrupts your words, you barely have time to cover your mouth.

Oh no. It's contagious. He feels that tell-tale tingle in his nose, and just like that, he yawns as well.

"Aha! You are tired, I bet you haven't slept properly in days!" An accusatory finger is now pointed at him, and Forget Me Not fights the impulse to roll his eyes.

"That's quite the leap to make over a simple gesture like that. Your time is up, by the way - please, go back to work."

"I'm telling on you, Forget Me Not. I'm so telling on you."

He gives a raspy laugh at this. "And who will you be telling about my horrible sleeping habits? The waiters? The delivery boy? Our esteemed guests?" The latter would definitely eat up any sort of information about his private life, especially if it was something to ruin his reputation, but he doesn't share this out loud.

"Ahh... So, you admit it, then? Having the worst sleeping schedule known to mankind?" Touché.

Before he can even reply, your mouth opens in a feigned yawn and Forget Me Not seethes when he finds himself imitating you. He seethes even more over the smug smile on your face. And he wishes he could just die on the spot when you scoot over and pat the empty seat next to you. Him? Rest? With you? Absolutely not.

"Ten minutes," a tight knot forms in his throat when you start to coax him in. "I'm sure you can spare that much, since you've been indulging me for this long! If you were actually busy, you would've just sent me home to rest. C'mere, sit."

What is the point in keeping track of time by now? Forget Me Not will be by your side until you decide to leave. Indulging you and your stupid ideas, your well-meaning and annoying habits, your reactions - all of it, they're his favorite vice and he never learned how to quit.

"Five minutes." He sits next to you.

"Fair enough." You scoot closer to him.

He watches when you link your arm with his, not bothering to ask for permission. Typical. Your palm is warm as you rest it over his forearm, fingers drumming idly over the soft fabric of his shirt. But you don't linger for too long, and slide down until your index and middle fingers reach the bare skin of his inner wrist, over the pronounced vein there. Can you feel his pulse? The shameless and frantic beat of his heart?

Forget Me Not is so entranced by this simple action that he fails to notice the sudden extra weight - your head rests on his shoulder, with your cheek pressed against the prominent bone. He knows it's an uncomfortable position, because you shift and nuzzle closer to his chest, the top of your head and your hair now tickling his neck and jawline. The knot in his throat returns and he holds his breath on instinct, like an animal at the verge of being devoured.

Nevermind the constant cycle of violence and doom he's turned his life into, these are the horrors that keep Forget Me Not up at night: your body against his, your displays of affection.

"Your eyes," the soft murmur of your voice pulls him from the awful, nonsensical noise in his mind. You're looking up at him. "You're meant to close them. That's what this whole thing is for. Unless ...you can sleep with your eyes open?"

"Don't be ridiculous. As if such a short amount of time could make me fall asleep." He huffs, a way to conceal just how out of breath he is. Part of him is afraid to close his eyes, knowing that he will feel each and every little thing you do - only tenfold. And what would he do with himself then, when all he can focus on is your finger tracing shapes over his palm? It tickles. It's distracting. It's unbearable.

His hand flinches, just barely, and you interlock your fingers with his in response.

"Hush and close them!" Always so obedient to your commands, Forget Me Not does as told, cursing you in his mind.

He gives you an inch, and you take a mile - the moment his eyes are closed, his body turns rigid but you still coax him backwards, so that he can lean on the backrest of the couch. It takes the coordinated effort of every single muscle in his body not to melt on the spot, to remain in a proper, sitting position. With you nestled so comfortably by his side, Forget Me Not makes the worst mistake in his life: he turns his head towards you, his nose now buried in your hair.

The content and pleased noise that leaves him is something that feels alien, entirely out of character for someone like him. Right away, he feels the tips of ears burning with shame and his body uselessly recoils away from you, trying to revert back into that persona he's created for the world.

It backfires immediately.

"...Hm? Is your arm getting numb? Here, let's switch." You move away, all while your hands cradle his face in order to guide him over to your lap.

It's a painfully slow process that is simultaneously over in the blink of an eye. Forget Me Not doesn't know what's worse, the fact that he didn't put up a fight or the way he feels so incredibly small, being held so lovingly by you.

He's laying on his back, hands resting uselessly over his chest like a corpse in an open casket funeral. If he glances upwards (a difficult thing to do, because you flick his forehead whenever you catch him wide awake) he can see you hoarding all the pillows available within your reach to support you as you lounge about, still hellbent on sleeping in with him.

Did he die at some point throughout the day without noticing? Is this his own personal Hell? Forget Me Not wants to speak, to say anything and regain control of the situation, but nothing comes out. All there is to do is to lay there, with your hands combing through his hair.

His heart might as well burst out of his chest. Even better, crawl up his throat and choke him from inside out.

Without thinking, he sits up. It's a nervous impulse. You can't see his face with his back turned to you and he's grateful for the small moment of privacy, as he steels himself to send you away. Or to fuck off into The Walden and walk around aimlessly to cool off, and then avoid you for a few weeks. Whichever comes first.

"Oh! Want a pillow or something? I kind of just took them all without thinking." He doesn't deserve this sort of contact, this domestic bliss - he doesn't want it either.

"Hey, do you think we could do this more often? Just... make some time for me in that busy schedule of yours?" And why would he? You're already pretty skilled at turning his life upside down with your constant nagging and your antics.

"Sorry for being this sappy so suddenly, it just came to mind...Oh, oh! Wait! While you're at it, mind closing the window, please? It's getting a liiittle cold in here."

Forget Me Not leaves his glasses on the table and lays back down, this time making sure to wrap his arms as tightly as he can around your waist, his face hidden in your stomach. What he receives is a weak chuckle, a weak complaint and a weak attempt at pushing him away. You don't mean it, of course - the same way he never means any of the things he thinks.

"Hm, I believe it's perfect like this."

"You're just saying that because you're going to leech off my own body heat, you little snake."

There's a hint of victory in your voice, you've won once again against him but you're always too nice to rub it in. Instead, you caress the scales on his neck, now on full display for you. It's a heavenly sensation.

"Perhaps," he murmurs, eyes closed. "But what are you going to do? Kick me out of my own office?"

"I might if you don't get some rest. Sleep, now."

And just like that, Forget Me Not unravels - he's been waiting so long to be given permission, for someone to allow him a moment of peace despite all these restraints holding him back.

He knows that the moment wakes up, he will act like none of this happened, that he will stubbornly deny everything until his very last breath, but right now, he clings onto you like his life depends on it.

And he falls asleep with your name on his lips

[tired-teacher-blog]

Characters : Tattoo artist Aizawa/ Florist fem reader

Featuring : Eri/ Hizashi Yamada/ Nemuri Kayama/ Oboro Shirakumo/ Emi Fukukado

Warnings and Genre : Fluff/ Romance/ Smut and Angst in future chapters/ Multi Chaptered Story

Summary : In a desperate attempt to get closer to the tattoo artist dominating every speck of your brain, you decide to pay him a visit one evening as a client seeking his service. This encounter will prove to be the beginning of something much bigger between you two, but will this new found passion be enough to stand against the difficulties your future holds?

Notes : Loosely inspired by this/ Art below is by the wonderful @/ael-draw who gifted me this gorgeous piece.

Masterlist|Second Masterlist|Third Masterlist

Chapter Count : Part 1 • Part 2 • Part 3 • Part 4 • Part 5 • Part 6 • Part 7 • Part 8 • Part 9 • Part 10 • Part 11

Rays of sunshine seep through the drawn curtains to cast an illuminating aura around the bed where you're deeply cuddled up with him. You yawn tiredly and try to stretch out your stiff muscles, but two strong arms are wrapped securely around you, keeping you fixed in place.

You smile brightly and struggle to shift in his hold until you're finally facing him. Relaxed, peaceful and handsome features welcome you, eyes still closed and soft breaths fanning over your face.

Your fingertips trace his cheek gently, careful not to wake him, and your eyes study his face as you wish to engrave this image of him in your mind, "good morning Shouta.."

Memories of the night before come rushing to your brain as your sore muscles remind you of every part of your body he touched, squeezed and kissed.

A blush creeps up your face and you're suddenly aware of your exposed frame under the sheets, covered only in one of his tank tops and nothing else, and you squirm away from him so you could get dressed before he gets up and sees you.

_ "Where'd you think you're going?" he groggily pulls you back to himself, burying his face in the crook of your neck and inhaling deeply, "feels so good not to wake up alone."

Your breath hitches hearing his words, and your mind wanders briefly to the first time you went out together, that night he opened up to you about prioritizing Eri over his own love life, and that none of his relationships were serious enough for him to pursue, but does this mean that he has never invited anyone over to his house before? That you're perhaps the first? That you're special enough for him to pursue?

Regardless, you're here with him now, in his bed and a part of his life and Eri's, and that's more than you can dream of, "it feels so good to wake up to you, Shouta."

You run your fingers along his back, tracing the faint scratches you've left behind, and smiling bashfully while recalling how they came to be.

_ "Can we stay in bed a little longer?" and it's adorable how he's mumbling that little plea while tightening his hold on you.

_ "Of course we can." how can you say no to him?

You have never expected to see this vulnerable side of him, never even thought he possessed it to begin with, but he does, and you feel blessed out that he's comfortable enough to unveil it around you.

You smile blissfully and kiss the top of his head as he presses his naked body to yours, it's warm and intimate, nothing sexual about it, just the closeness of one another that you both find comforting.

His breathing is already evening out and body is relaxing again, and it's endearing to watch him fall back asleep in your arms.

You stroke his hair gently and place little kisses there until you're almost back with him in dreamland, but you don't want to sleep, you just want to observe him while he does.

It's gradually getting brighter, and you're finally able to see his room clearly -now that you're not all over each other like you were last night- and it's quite elegant and minimalistic, just as you expected, it suits his personality quite well actually.

Your eyes study the wall sized wardrobe closet, jet black -same as his bed and nightstands- the huge dark grey carpet laid on the fancy wooden floor at the foot of his bed, the refined wall clock hanging opposite from you, the downlights recessed into the ceiling and illuminating the unsurprisingly charcoal painted walls.

You giggle softly thinking of how different his room is compared to your brighter and more colorful one, which seems a bit childish now that you think about it.

You love it though, you love how different you two are, it makes everyday an adventure, learning about each other and observing one another in your own element is something that you wouldn't give up for the world.

A few months ago you were nothing but strangers, acquaintances at best, but today you woke up in his bed, with his arms around you, and.. and..

What's that? What's that faint dark pink defying the monochrome hues of his room? It's familiar, really familiar, "Shouta, are those.. the roses I gave you when you visited my shop the first time?" your voice is no higher than a whisper, as if you're talking to yourself instead of him.

It's them, you can tell, you can recognize the flowers you cultivated yourself anywhere, even if they were preserved in what looks like resin, they don't look as vibrant as the day you cut them, but it's also nearly impossible to tell they're a couple of months old.

Why did he frame them? Why go so far as to keep them in his room, hanging on the wall facing his bed, for nearly two months?

_ "Shouta, can you hear me?" you cradle his cheek while gently calling out to him and brushing your thumb along his lips, you feel a little guilty for waking him up after he's already drifted back to sleep, but your eagerness to hear his answer is a lot to contain.

You peck his forehead and then his nose, and finally his lips, until he lets out a groan, "umm.. yeah, what's going on?" and it actually sounds more like a whine.. cute.

_ "I'm sorry I woke you but, I need to ask you something." and your soft caresses on his neck are only pulling him deeper into slumber, despite this, he forces his eyes open to listen to you.

_ "What is it babe? Tell me." his voice is deep and gruff as he slowly starts regaining his senses.

Your eyes soften apologetically and you kiss his pouty lips one more time before starting, "the roses I gifted you, why did you frame them?"

He's fully alert now, body tensed up and breath caught in his throat, he did not expect to hear that question from you, and it's not that he was ashamed or anything, it's just that you've caught him off guard.

_ "Well, no particular reason really, don't read too much into it." he shrugs his shoulders dismissively while fixing the pillow under his head.

_ "Oh! You're lying aren't you? You did it because you really liked my gift!" you shake his arm excitedly with a beaming smile adorning your face, he can deny it all he wants, because the faint blush dusting his cheeks has already exposed him.

He tries to turn onto his other side and avoid your persistant accusations, but you're too quick for him, pinning him down on his back and straddling him with a hyper squeal, "you're not running away!" you demand shamelessly and kiss all over his face and neck, for a moment forgetting that you're naked under the shirt that's now riding up your waist, but he's aware of it.

_ "Fine, you want to know why?" his voice is even deeper than before, but there is something else as well, a mischievous smirk and a mysterious glint replacing the bashful expression of earlier as you suddenly find yourself plopped onto your back and looking up at his menacing figure hovering over you, "I wanted to preserve them, not because I'm particularly fond of flowers, but because they're from you, and I couldn't bear the thought of seeing them wither, that's why I did it."

Your eyes are wide open and lips are slightly parted while he speaks, and now, you're the one who's flushing a deep shade of pink as his fingers slide up your leg, "are you satisfied with that answer?"

_ "I'm.. yeah." where did your confidence vanish all of a sudden?

_ "Good, because that's the truth." his gaze softens and his playful smirk turns into a warm smile as he leans in to kiss you, slowly and deeply, mingling your tongues together and swallowing every moan you're attempting to let out.

The hand on your leg is inching closer and closer to your exposed butt, and with every agonizingly slow millimeter he moves, the heat in the pit of your tummy intensifies.

He's naked too, you almost forgot, if it wasn't for his awakening stiffness nudging your thigh.

_ "Ugh fuck.." he breathes out, almost painfully, as he detaches his lips from yours before looking away with an embarrassed expression on his face, "I'm sorry, just give me a minute, I'll be right back." and with that, he tries to escape you.

_ "No wait, don't go!" you slide a hand along his toned chest, bringing it lower and lower until you reach his twitching cock, "just, stay." and your confidence is back as you coax him into giving in.

_ "But, I don't want to overwhelm you after last night." he says that, but his hips are mindlessly bucking against your hand.

_ "That's fine I'm okay, I want you." you have never been vocal with your desires before, never been demanding or bold, but you are so comfortable with him that it's all coming naturally.

_ "Well then, who am I to decline?" he purrs teasingly before connecting your lips again.

To be continued..

[cammslush]

6REEZE Yandere series Part 3

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Content warning(s): Yandere themes (unhealthy obsession)

Let me know if I missed anything.

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Part III: Main Rapper - Xiao

"Good morning. How are you all doing today? I hope you all are well."

Such a simple greeting, uttered so beautifully, so gently, with a voice so sickeningly sweet. Such a simple greeting, yet Xiao's face couldn't help but slowly turn a pink shade upon hearing such an angelic voice from his earphones.

"If you're not doing well, I hope that I can make your day a little bit, if not very much better."

So alluring, so enchanting, that his ears immediately shut out any other sound besides your recorded voice, as well as the thumping of his heart against his chest.

"Come on, let's start the day off energetic."

Every single morning, he turns on his laptop just to listen to the exact same video before he gets ready, it's almost as natural as breathing. It belongs to an ASMR channel, your ASMR channel, the video itself being a sort of "morning routine call".

Being an idol is no easy task. Every single day is practice and practice for the next song, or for the next concert. Sometimes one can get deals to be featured in some reality show or magazine, which requires extra energy and social effort, the latter of which Xiao lacks.

"You can do it, one step at a time." No matter how tired he feels…somehow, just the sound of your breath through his earphones is enough for him to re-energize.

It's because it lets him know you still exist. There's that teeny, tiny chance that you too, are a fan of 6REEZE, right? Though Xiao keeps reminding himself that shouldn't get too ahead of himself.

He is physically unable to get up from bed and do anything productive without hearing this audio recording of your sweet voice assuring him that you will "accompany" him throughout his day. Nothing makes him feel better more than you, asking him how his day has been.

When in reality, those words aren't directed to anyone in particular. But who can blame him? Anyone will be so infatuated with your voice that they'll think you're talking to them only.

…It's a small part of him that makes him wonder whether he is still an idol, or if he has become the creepy fan.

"Hey Xiao, it's practice time," Kazuha told his fellow group mate, who sat quietly in the corner of the canteen.

"Okay," Xiao responded, but his attention was solely focused on his phone screen, "I'll be there in…5 minutes."

"But you and Venti are the main features of this song. We can't practice without you," Kazuha tried to reason with him to be punctual, but was met with silence.

"..." The white-haired idol really wanted to figure out what exactly was on his phone that Xiao was so interested in. Xiao was so focused that he didn't realize Kazuha was taking a small peek at his phone.

"[ Non-ASMR ] Just a chat stream"

That was the title of the livestream Xiao was giving all his attention to.

Kazuha didn't say another word and quietly walked away.

"Hmm…" Xiao watched as you read the live chat with a smile. He didn't dare to touch the chat box, he feels like you're too good to be reading anything he spouts.

Even when it's not an ASMR video, your natural talking voice, too, is too angelic for one to listen to anything else. Your voice is so soft, like a blanket he would cuddle as he falls asleep after another hard day of idol work.

"What do I think of 6 — is it a six?" You stumbled upon a question in the chat, "Oh, it's supposed to be a 'B'...then, '6REEZE'? Aren't they a really popular boy band? I hear my friends talking about them a lot."

Xiao almost had a cardiac arrest when he heard you mention that name.

You won't say anything good about him, will you? No, he's got ahead of himself again. You didn't even know how to pronounce their band name, so you probably won't even know a person named 'Xiao' exists—

"I remember one person in particular that my friend keeps fawning over is the one who always wears that cool looking mask. Can anyone tell me his name?" You asked, recalling the music videos your friend shows you nonstop. Looking through the chat, you hoped to find someone who knows.

As expected, a lot of your subscribers also happened to be 6REEZE fans too. Over and over again, chat messages saying the name 'Xiao' (some are completely capitalized for extra dramatic flair).

"Xiao?" If cardiac arrest wasn't enough, Xiao was ready to drop dead on the spot. There's no way you just said his name. If it was a regular person, something like this would've been completely normal. But this is you we're talking about! The you, who is Xiao's angel sitting on his right shoulder.

"It sounds like a name from Liyue. That's interesting! So the members of 6REEZE seem to be multicultural. Because I also remember there was a guy from Inazuma as well, right?" The words from your mouth keep flowing, but Xiao's mind still lingers on the moment you said his name.

He must be crazy, reminding himself over and over about something so insignificant.

"But yeah, it might be because my friend showed him to me the most, but Xiao looks the coolest to me. His rapping is really clear too, in my opinion," you said, so genuinely and from the bottom of your heart, "Then again, I'm not a boy band connoisseur. Maybe I'll give 6REEZE a try, now that you mention it."

Stop it. Stop it right now. Xiao might actually die. And he still needs to practice soon. You're gonna try listening to 6REEZE music now, and you think his rapping is really neat…?!

Xiao has this sudden urge to get up and practice his ass off. He's counting on that one chance that you watch the upcoming music video he is supposed to practice on, so he can show off to you. He couldn't bear to turn your stream off just yet, but knowing that he now has a reason to put his all into being an idol—

"Xiao? Why do you look so…" Aether saw the look on his friend's face as he finally walked through the doors to the huge practice hall. "Fiery? Up for practice?" Heizou finished the sentence.

"Also, why are you late?" Jean, the manager, glared at Xiao, "It's been 9 minutes past the scheduled practice time." Kazuha whispered to her, "I tried to call him, but…"

Xiao wore his signature cold, nonchalant look on his face,

"That doesn't matter. Come on, let's get this over with."

[moonpedri]

paranoid.

summary: it's late at night and kylian id sleeping peacefully next to you, but your mind is plagued with worries and insecurities

pairing: kylian x reader

genre: angst, fluff

warnings: none, reader is just sad

word count: 1.2k

a/n: this is a short little one shot that i wrote while listening to paranoid by lauv. i love the song and to some extent it's really relatable. i always think that it may be hard for some people to be with someone like kylian and that he would be super understanding of it, so this is just self-engulfment honestly. hope you enjoy!! (not proof-read)

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Like most nights you lay in bed next to Kylian. With your head on his chest, you hear his heartbeat slowly becoming one with yours. His soft breaths are tickling your hairline.

Your grip tightens around his waist.

It is like any other night, only that it isn't and your head is so full of thoughts that you can't fall asleep. Thoughts that keep you up all night. The moonlight provides enough light for you to make out Kylian's features.

He is beautiful. His eyes are closed and small snores escape his pouty mouth. There were times where you thought that you didn't deserve him.

He treats you with so much care and love, always making sure you are alright. You never felt better in your life. He is a sweetheart. Just how did he become yours? Kylian is like a book to you, a beautiful cover with so many layers to it, waiting to be read and deciphered.

You are not sure if you are the one to do the job though. To be the owner of this book.

Is he yours?

You sit up quietly. Looking at him, you notice that a slight smile graces his lips.

It makes you wonder what or who he is dreaming of. You? Someone else? You can't help but imagine what it would be like seeing Kylian with someone else in his arms.

You hate it.

And you can't help but think about that gorgeous female friend of his, that you two met today by coincidence. She's an influencer, knows him longer than you do, is absolutely stunning. Kylian denied that there was ever more between them, but seeing them laugh and hug each other brought your brain to dark places.

You already expressed your displeasure to Kylian, and he reassured you - both verbally and physically. It's a closed chapter, so why do you open it again?

He is right beside you, sleeping, like any other night for the past 6 months now, but you never felt more distant.

He doesn't wear a shirt and the blanket doesn't cover much of his toned torso, giving you a perfect view of his chest raising and lowering. The crumbled sheets underneeth him only an indicator what happened hours ago. But while he sleeps so peacefully in front of you, you feel naked, though you are fully closed. You feel exposed and vulnerable and you just don't know why.

Kylian and you have been dating for more than half a year now and you knew each other before that too. He is your best friend. You always thought that you were comfortable enough around him by now to show even your ugly sides to him but sitting here right now just confirms that this was not the case. Not at all.

You are scared. Scared that one day he will wake up and realize that you are actually not the one, not what he has been looking for. That you are not like he imagined. You are scared that he will get tired of you.

You begin doubting yourself. Are you enough for him? Does he even want 'enough' or is he unsatisfied with you?

You sigh. You don't realize how fast the time passes until the first rays of sun appear in the bedroom. You look at Kylian a little longer and then lie next to him slowly, not wanting to wake your boyfriend up. It's time you try to get some shuteye, even with all these demons messing with your mind. You just hope they don't appear in your dreams as well.

Unfortunately it seems like you did, as a pair of strong arms draws you closer and and a hum leaves his mouth. “Good morning, baby. You're up early." he says in a raspy voice, coated thickly with sleep.

You don't say anything.

As if Kylian senses that something is off, he raises his head to look at you. “Did you sleep well?” You avoid his eyes and hesistate, not knowing what to do. Ignoring him would be unfair, after all it's not his fault that you're in this predicament. You don't know if you should tell him that you didn't sleep a wink or if you should lie to not worry him.

"Hm.", you settle for a hum. Neither a clear 'no' nor a clear 'yes'. You hope he's satisfied with that, but he wouldn't be Kylian if he was. He pulls you closer (if that was even possible at this point) and caresses your hand softly. “It's okay."

He pauses for a moment before continuing, “Sometimes we tend to overthink and sleep just doesn't come.”

At that you tense up. Was he awake while you went through this little crisis? Or does he just know you so well? "Want to talk about it?”, he asks gently.

You think about it. It would be great to share your worries with him right now but you are scared of his judgement. That he will laugh at you or just brush over it, which again, is unfair to think about, as you should know Kylian to be better than that right now. Still, you can't help yourself.

You open your mouth but nothing comes out. You can't. “I-”, you begin but your brain can't form a proper sentence. You don't even know what exactly to tell him. It's embarrassing.

“It's okay, baby. I understand.”, Kylian begins upon noticing your hopeless attempt to say something. “I don't know what is worrying you, why you stayed up, but I want you to know that you mean a lot to me.”

Kylian is so cruel; so cruel for saying these loving words to you in your state of paranoia.

“So whatever is worrying you and is stressing your cute little head out, I hope it's going away.” He kisses your temple. “I understand if you don't feel comfortable to open up to me about it, but just know that I'm always here for you. I love you.”

He nestles his head into the crook of your neck and leaves a little kiss there.

For the first time in hours you feel as if you can breathe again. You feel warm and cared for. For the first time in hours your mind feels a little bit more at ease. You feel loved.

You look down at Kylian with glossy eyes, the corner of your lips going up for the first time today. “I love you too.” He looks a bit surprised but then smiles back at you, his teeth showing.

So you tell him. You tell him what kept you up all night. Your fears, your worries. And he listens. He listens to every single word you say.

Maybe you were wrong. Maybe he is not getting tired of you. Maybe you are more than enough for him. And maybe, maybe you deserve him.

Maybe you were just a little paranoid.

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© moonpedri - DO NOT copy, translate or post my work anywhere without my permission!

[nex-is-sleeping]

Hi Ned, how are ya?

Can I request a SFW alphabetical list of Boom!Sonic x fem!reader? Cuz Boom Sonic is just an adorable dork and I wanted to know how he is around this partner, what is his love language and all those good stuff

Thanks, please keep writing, they’re so good!! :3

Boom!Sonic SFW Alphabet

Hmm.. Ned, I have no idea who that is ! But I, Nex, and doing quite alright, thank you !

A-Affection (How affectionate are they ? How do they show affection ?)

While alone, Sonic is quite affectionate ! His love language is quality time ! So, while being with you alone, he'll talk so much with you. He just finds you so interesting ! But in public or with his friends ? Not so much.

B-Best friend (What would they be like as a best friend ?)

He'd want a loyal friend, who is honest and open with him ! And he has Tails, and he wouldn't trade his little fox friend for the world !

C-Cuddles (Do they like to cuddle ? How would they do it ?)

Sonic is in between about it. He wouldn't initiate it, but wouldn't protest if you came over and hugged on him for a while. He would insist on being the big spoon.

D-Domestic (Do they wanna settle down ? Are they good at cooking and cleaning ?)

The idea of settling down kinda doesn't sit right with him. Like, Sonic loves you dearly ! But it would take a loong while for him to decide to, He's not good at cooking or cleaning-

E-Ending (If they had to break up with their partner, how would they do it ?)

He wouldn't do it straight away, after all, he didn't want these fun times to end with you. Sonic would still love to be your friend ! But a romantic partner not so much. He'd do it over text, he wouldn't be able to take it if it actually upset you.

F-Fiance (How do they feel about commitment ? How quick would they want to get married ?)

Sonic, he has a tad bit of commitment issues. it would take him at least over 5-6 years to even think about getting married.

G-Gentle (How gentle are they, both physically and emotionally ?

He definitely isn't all that gentle physically. Sonic plays rough. But emotionally, he'll try his best, but he isn't that good in emotional situations.

H-Hugs (Do they like hugs ? How often do they hug, and how are they ?)

He likes hugs ! He won't often start one, but he loves it when someone hugs him unexpectedly. He'll hug you back, not tightly nor softly, but just the right tightness. His hug is oddly cold though.

I-I love you (How fast do they say the L-word ?)

Immediately. He just loves you so much ! Why wouldn't he ? He just doesn't say it in public.

J-Jealousy (How jealous do they get ? What do they do when they get jealous ?)

Sonic gets jealous super easily, and when he does, it's a raging fire. He'll turn the conversation to something else, or rest his arm around on your hip.

K-Kisses (What are their kisses like ? Where do they like to kiss you ? Where do they like to be kissed ?)

Sonic kisses are deep, and full of emotion. I dare say, he is quite good at it. He loves to kiss your insecurities. He just thinks you shouldn't be insecure, he loves them ! He on the other hand likes to be kissed on the neck. It just feels nice.

L-Little ones (How are they with children ?)

Kids annoy him. He will never have kids to be honest. Too much responsibility.

M-Morning (How are mornings spent with them ?)

Sonic always sleeps in, so you just don't spend the morning together.

N-Night (How are nights spent with them ?)

Sonic loves spending long nights with you. Most of the time you two play video games together, or sometimes you two fall asleep together.

O-Open (When do they start revealing things about themselves ? Do they say everything all at once or wait and reveal things slowly ?)

He would try to wait to reveal secrets about himself, but fails miserably when you ask.

P-Patience (How easily angered are they ?)

Q-Quizzes (How much would they remember about you ? Do they forget some stuff or keep everything memorized ?)

Sonic is easily angered when things don't go his way. But, with his friends and you he tries his best to be patient.

R-Remember (What is their favorite part about the relationship ?)

He remembers (most) things ! Just don't expect him to remember the little stuff-

When Sonic first met you, it was almost love at first sight. He loved the way he felt in that moment, and would love it over again and again.

Y-Yuck (What are some things they don't like in a partner.)

S-Security (How protective are they ? How would they protect you ? How would they like to be protected ?)

He's very protective, with Eggman attacking every day it seems like, why wouldn't he worry about you ? He would appreciate it if you protected him, but he'd say he didn't need it.

T-Try (How much effort would they put into the relationship ?)

Sonic would put a little bit more than the minimum ! Like, he would take you out on dates, but only to meh burger (basically the opposite of romantic)

U-Ugly (What are some bad habits of theirs ?)

He snores REALLY loud.

V-Vanity (How concerned are they with their looks ?)

Sonic loves how he looks !! He spends like an hour a day making sure he looks the best he can be

W-Whole (Would they feel incomplete without you ?)

Not really, he's an independent person. But, he would feel like something is missing.

X-Xtra (A random headcanon)

His favorite color is purple !

If they're dishonest. For Sonic that's an immediate no.

Z-Zzz (What are their sleep habits ?)

He has very irregular sleep patterns, sometimes he goes to sleep early, sometimes he goes to sleep at 4:46AM

~

Thank you for my first alphabet request Anon ! I had fun writing Boom!Sonic !! Always feel free to request more !!!

[mrsjavymachado]

dagger crew headcanons ✈️

bradley “rooster” bradshaw got his callsign because he was always the first one up. always. 6am here comes bradshaw whistling down the hallways to some song from 1980 something, a wide smile on his face as he took his happy ass down to the mess hall to grab a snack before his morning run.

it was infuriating because no matter how early is was, here comes bradshaw happy as a clam, smiling wide as he sits next to everyone else struggling to find it in them to wake up. god bless whoever is his bunk mate because like when a rooster crows, once he’s up, you’re up.

mikey called him a rooster once as a joke when he was complaining about being his roommate and the name stuck. (no one knew that his dad’s callsign was goose, so really there was no way of knowing that when someone had called him rooster for the first time it made him a little teary eyed, but he took the name in stride, and branded himself as rooster bradshaw) (but really he was just happy for the new name because there was no one around in his life to call him bradley anymore)

on the flip side, javy machado was always up late at night. why the man chose being in the military for his career of choice when he’d never been in bed before midnight a day in his life is really something he thinks about often, but nevertheless javy can’t sleep if the time isn’t at least 0000.

he was tried everything, from warm milk to melatonin, no matter how tired he is, he just can’t sleep early in the evening.

when he was a kid, his mom used to let him watch cartoons to fall asleep, and what was always on late at night was Wile E. Coyote and the Road Runner. it became such a comfort to javy that whenever it was on he could turn his brain off and sleep.

eventually, the team caught on and after more than a few nights of them finding him asleep and the cartoon playing in the background, the name caught on and stuck. (when javy told his mom she laughed and laughed because she’d never have guessed a random cartoon she put on for him as a kid would become so important to her baby’s life) (she always sends wile e. coyote themed gifts on javy’s birthday and it caught on to the rest of the team who do it now too) (his original callsign was new orleans but coyote just felt right)

out of all the boys, hangman is probably the best at sticking to a sleep schedule. his in bed by 11 and up at 6 (“cause to keep looking this good you need to get a lot of beauty sleep, javy”)

rooster likes drinking tea in the morning (with excessive amounts of honey) but will drink coffee (4 sugar, 3 cream)

payback and coyote can’t think without at least smelling coffee and mikey only gets starbucks and is a sucker for seasonal drinks and anything diabetes inducing. payback will drink any and all coffee and coyote just wants his black.

jake drinks sweet tea, but because he’s jake he has to drink a SPECIFIC sweet tea and “the farther north you go the worse it tastes”

hangman has unpromptedly complained about sweet tea for 40 minutes uninterrupted (phoenix timed it) but they can all begrudgingly agree that he makes a damn good sweet tea so they let him talk as much shit as he wants to.

phoenix, when she can, takes the longest of them in the bathroom. when she’s not on military time and she has the space to do so, she has a 10 step skin care routine, 5 steps for hair care, an avid collector of face masks and a BEAST at manicures.

when she’s deployed she doesn’t really have time to think much about her appearance much besides keeping it in military standard and not in her way, but when she’s off? she just needs a day to herself? you bet your pretty ass she’s in her bathroom with her hair wrapped in some treatment, painting her toes a pretty pink with music blaring in the background.

she’s given all the boys a a manicure at least twice and hangman and rooster let her do their makeup when she wants to.

she will not hesitate dig tweezers out of her purse and pluck all their eyebrows until they look good.

bob, ever the sweetheart, is the main subject of her beautifying and it is not uncommon to find the both of them wrapped in robes with phoenix helping bob apply a face mask. (she got them both matching robes for christmas and they are very cool and badass, thank you very much seresin)

bob is real southern, born and raised in tennessee and put him, jake, javy and rooster in a room together and suddenly gone with the wind is having a reunion. they all bring out the southern in eachother and damn do they sound good.

bob and hangman always bring a set of boots with them when deployed. (hangman, the texan, prefers ariat boots but bob much prefers a stetson)

hangman and halo love to gossip, they are known for it. callie doesn’t let on that she probably knows your deepest darkest secret but jake can and will let everyone know if he feels so inclined.

when they’re stationed together it’s like gossip girl has suddenly come to base because if something happens, they probably know it. (callie doesn’t start gossip but jake loves starting a good rumor and he’s a terrible influence)

their best to date is spreading a rumor that yale and harvard fucked in a storage closet on base and though they never confirmed anything, their blushing faces and avoidant looks every time someone brings it up was enough for everyone to know it wasn’t completely baseless and hound them for info (they’ve never said anything to date but everyone’s waiting for them to get drunk enough to spill the details)

phoenix did volleyball in high school (captain her junior and senior year and varsity since sophomore) and is amazing at it. (when the squad play beach volleyball it’s always a race to pick nat) but in her freshman year she was a flyer her school’s cheer team and she made varsity the next year and loved it, and if volleyball and cheer didn’t clash seasons then she absolutely would have stuck to it.

rooster did varsity baseball up until college. when mav pulled his papers he decided to go to college until he could reapply and he got a full ride scholarship to play baseball and study aviation at the university of virginia and if he wasn’t dead set on going to the navy he could’ve gone pro.

jake was the captain of his high school football team and took them to first place at nationals two years in a row as the star quarterback and got offered a full ride to the university of texas at austin (go longhorns) to play at a d1 level but he turned it down to go straight to basics.

fanboy has a terrible sweet tooth. put anything sweet infront if of him he can and will devour it but he never had a cavity. javy however, was a metal mouth with braces for 4 years and then he got his wisdom teeth pulled right after they came out. (jake has always had his straight, crest 3d white smile and javy’s always a little bit jealous when he sees it)

jake, the bastard, never had an award phase growing up, rooster and bob however, went through some tragic emo phases and parents facebooks have since been off limits because wow those were embarrassing times. (it’s okay because bradley has pictures of nat from her parents of her as a kid in middle school and threatens to show the team baby nats adorable plane themed 9th birthday party)

payback has reading glasses that make him look like a grandpa and rooster wears contacts.

jake doesn’t need glasses and is insufferable out his 20/20 vision

[themultifandomgal]

Jay- 24 Hour Bug

Warning- talk about throwing up (not in detail)

A few days ago Jay was sick. He woke up in the middle of the night and had to run to the bathroom to throw up. That was not a fun night, every hour he had to go into the bathroom. We only have a small one bedroom house so I was kept up all night, then having to go to work the following day, nearly falling asleep at my desk. Turns out Will treated a little girl a few days ago with a sickness bug giving said bug to Jay.

The following day, when Jay was better, I wake up feeling a little off. Not quite sick, but off. I look over and see Jays side of the bed empty. Slowly I get out of bed and go to the bathroom to have a shower and get ready for the day.

I leave the bedroom once ready and head downstairs to the living room

"Morning you want a coffee?" Jay shouts to me from the kitchen

"No I'm good" I say back as I walk into the kitchen. Jay turns around and his smile turns into a frown

"You ok? You look pale"

"I don't feel great but I'll be ok, probably a cold coming"

"You sure it's not the bug I had?"

"It doesn't feel like it. Think I'm alright"

"Ok but if you you feel worse while at work you tell Voight"

"Of course" I give him a smile. Jay finishes making his drink and putting it in a flask to take with him to work.

We both arrive at the precinct, I get situated at my desk and as the hours go by I feel worse and worse until I have to dash to the loo to throw up

"YN?" I hear Erin coming in

"I'm fine"

"Yeah I'm sure" I flush the loo, open up the cubicle and go wash my hands

"Is this a bug sick or a congratulations sick" Erin smiles at me

"The first one. I think it's bug"

"So go home"

"I will. Just need to speak to Voight"

"I'll tell him. Go and tell Jay to take you home"

"Thanks" I give Erin a smile and we leave the bathroom. She goes to speak to Voight while I go to speak ti Jay

"Hey babe, can you take me home?" I ask him. Jay looks up at me with sympathy

"Grab your coat" he says getting up from his desk. I walk to mine and put my coat on.

"Jay I'm fine. Go back to work" I tell my boyfriend once I'm in bed

"Are you sure? I can ring Voight and tell him..."

"No. Go. Babe the worst that going to happen is I throw up again. I can handle that on my own. If I need you I'll ring you"

"Promise?" Jay places a bucket next the bed for me

"I promise now go" I tell Jay who reluctantly leaves. I decide the best thing to do was to fall asleep, which was easier said than done. Just like Jay every hour or so I throw up until I do finally fall asleep.

Before I know it I'm woken up by Jay entering the bedroom

"Sorry, didn't mean to wake you"

"It's ok. What time is it?"

"6. How do you feel?" Jay asks taking his shirt off

"Better" I yawn

"Well turns out it's going round the precinct. Ruzek was sent home as well"

"Hopefully no one else gets it" I say sighing

"Im going to have a quick shower, then I'll run you a hot bath"

"Thanks"

Jay being the best boyfriend ever did just that. He also heated up some soup, which I managed to keep down. The following day I woke ip feeling a hell of a lot better, but Voight wanted me to stay home for one more day just to make sure I'm definitely better before going back to work. Unfortunately the sickness bug goes around the precinct and then ends up going round the firehouse thanks to Trudy. Hopefully the bug is gone and we don't get it again... we will at some point but hopefully not for a while.

[ladycatofwinterfell]

Black does not become you

Summary: Some time after Ned’s arrival at Castle Black a raven comes with a letter for him. With a heavy heart he’s allowed to read what might be the last he ever hears from the woman who was once his wife.

Day 6 of @nedcatweek : Ned lives (but takes the black)

Barely did Ned have his feet on the ground again before someone called for him and he could not help but sigh. He had stood watch atop the Wall from sunrise to sunset, he wished for nothing but to eat a warm meal and then fall asleep. Rest was too much to ask for, that he had not done since… he could not even say. He could not remember a morning when he had not woken up still tired and sore. Still the bad dreams were better than the contemplation he subjected himself to when he was awake.

“Stark!” the voice called again.

He had learned to know the voice of his lord commander well. It had not been hard, The Old Bear would have been able to make himself heard anywhere.

“Lord Commander Mormont” Ned replied, dreading what would come next.

“I have a letter for you.”

A letter? No one had written to him since he had arrived at Castle Black. Who had decided to do so then?

Slowly, leaning heavily on his cane, Ned managed to make his way to Jeor. The cold was not kind to his leg, made it ache terribly. An ache from deep within the bone. He was not good for anything when he was not riding out beyond the Wall, merely limped around.

When he had finally reached his lord commander he noted that the seal of the letter in Jeor’s gloved hand was broken. Though that did not change that the wax was grey. Ned’s heart skipped a beat when he realised it had to be from Winterfell. The seal had been adorned by the grey direwolf of House Stark before it had been broken.

“A letter for me and yet you have broken the seal” he said.

Jeor Mormont gave a grunt that could have been both a laugh and a disapproving noise.

“I give it to you only as a courtesy. In truth I don’t know if you should have it, it’s enough to make the most loyal brother desert.”

A letter from Winterfell that it was better for him not to have. It was from his family. What had been his family. Catelyn or one of the children. What else could have been enough to make him desert? Perhaps it was news of another war, a letter that said the peace had been too brittle to last. Though why would Mormont not have simply said that instead of giving him the letter?

“A courtesy to the former Lord Stark” Ned said.

Had he been anyone but who he was then perhaps he would have never seen that letter. It was said names and titles did not matter in the Night’s Watch, that being stripped of all that made the black brothers equal. It was not quite the truth. He had noticed he was received with more respect than his new brothers from most everyone. Not because he was more deserving of it, but because he was Eddard Stark.

“A thank you for what you have done for The Watch.”

When Ned reached for the letter he noticed that his hand was trembling and it was not because of the cold. The mere prospect at reading something written from Winterfell made him feel somewhat lightheaded. He was not supposed to want it that much, he was supposed to have put all of it behind him.

“I advise you to read it in private” Jeor told him.

“Thank you, Lord Commander.”

He dared not look at the letter as he walked towards the Flint Barracks. Most men would be eating or seeing to their duties at that time, most likely the barracks would be largely empty.

His heart was beating hard in his chest, as if trying to free itself from his ribcage. Words from Winterfell. Words from one of those he had been forced to leave behind. Words from far away.

When Ned sat on the edge of his bed he removed his gloves before opening the letter. He could not damage it in any way, it had to remain the way it was. The way it had left Winterfell.

He could not keep breathing when he saw that a lock of auburn hair had been fastened with wax at the bottom of the letter. It was from Catelyn.

My love,

I write to you against my better judgment.

There was so much Catelyn in it that he should have felt it before he opened it. The words were written in slightly crooked letters, he wondered if they would ever return to being as neat as they had been before she had grabbed a dagger for their son.

He could not keep reading, wanted to savour every word. Perhaps it was the last thing he would ever hear from her. She still called him his love. His chest had began aching so much that he forgot about his leg.

Once again he found that he was trembling as he touched the auburn lock. The familiar feeling of Catelyn’s soft hair under his fingers made it hard to breathe. Last time he had felt that was in King’s Landing. It felt like a lifetime had passed since then. His life had crumbled around him.

Though then and there he could feel Catelyn’s hair again and read words written by her. He would have liked to hear them spoken from her lips. Said gently in the darkness of her bedchamber after they had made love.

I cannot know if you will ever read this letter, though I hope you will. I expect no answer, you need not concern yourself with that.

Perhaps if he asked the maester he could send her a short answer. Not a long letter, not a page of words. Merely a few words to let her know he had read it. Immediately there was a sense of guilt at that thought. He could not answer her. She was not his wife anymore.

You also need not concern yourself with me. I knew you for a long time and I expect you have not changed all too much, therefore something tells me you worry for me. That is not necessary. I live, I have my health.

He worried for her and he worried for the children. It seemed that was all he did. After what had happened in King’s Landing he knew they were on thin ice with the new king and his men. In taking the black he had avoided war, that did not change that Catelyn had become a traitor’s wife and that his children had been sired by a traitor.

The children, all five of them, mourn your presence in their lives. They miss their father. They are lost without you to lead them, and I cannot be what you were even as I try. I am only one person. Robb became Lord Stark before he was ready for it, before you had taught him all that you meant to. As I write to you he has yet to find his footing. I am certain he will one day, though he was not ready to be without your guidance. Still you would have been so proud of him. He is truly his father’s son.

His eldest boy. His son and heir. Lord Stark even as he was barely a man grown. Ned had not seen him since he left Winterfell for King’s Landing. He had still looked a boy then, with snowflakes melting in his auburn hair. Catelyn had sometimes insisted there would be more Stark in his appearance as he grew, Ned wondered if that was true. If there were traces of him in Robb that he would never see.

Benjen had been allowed south and therefore been able to visit Winterfell from time to time, he was not certain he would have that privilege. He had not chosen freely to take the black, he had been sentenced to it. It was his punishment for doing what he had done. He was chained to Castle Black to keep him from further schemes. Not that he had been scheming.

I fear Rickon will not remember you once he grows older. That the time when you were his father and not a black brother will be no more than a story to him. For now he still weeps for you. It does not seem to matter how many times I explain to him why you cannot return to us, he keeps asking.

Ned had to blink to clear his vision. The words had grown blurry. He did not know when he had last wept. Apparently it was not cold enough for the tears to freeze in his chest.

His youngest child would not remember him one day. He suspected that day would come quite soon. Little Rickon. Ned would never see him grow up. Rickon would become a man grown and Ned would never know him as anything but the small boy who always tried to run after his brothers, furious at that his short legs did not allow him to run as fast as they did.

Arya speaks treason even as I try to keep her from it. She does not see the danger, all she wants is her father. I wish she would stop, I try to berate her for it. I want her safe. Sansa is quieter. She has barely been speaking ever since she was released from the boy king’s court. I notice she weeps often even as she tries to hide it.

His girls. He wanted nothing but to take them into his arms. Comfort them, say that all would be well. All would be well for them. Arya’s anger would lessen with time, Sansa would return to what she had been before their time in the south. With time his absence would not mean so much, they would adjust. They had each other. Ned was alone. Jon was there, but with Benjen lost beyond the Wall he felt so lonely.

Bran has had strange dreams, dreams of ravens with too many eyes that tell him he can fly. I believe he mourns his legs and his ability to walk, though I cannot say. He rarely wants to speak with me and it pains me.

At least Bran was alive. Ned could not push away the vision of him in his bed, eyes closed and his little broken body limp. He had seemed so small, even younger than his years. Catelyn, so grief stricken that she seemed half a ghost, had not helped.

At times I feel anger at what you did, my love. Anger at that you could not for once turn a blind eye and return home instead of doing the just thing. That way my children would still have a father and I would still have a husband. I know you are not at fault, though you had a say in it and I did not. You acted alone and yet the children and I have to pay.

He had not known how it would end. He had believed he would return home to them. Still he did not know if he felt regret. It had been right, it had been just. He had told the world of Joffrey’s parentage, tried to protect Robert’s legacy. Then he had been forced to take back his words. He had done it for the sake of his children, for their safety. That was what was most important.

In my heart you will always be my husband. I wake every morning and look to my side, expecting to see you. The pain of seeing that my bed is empty except for myself never seems to lessen. I know you to be alive, still my entire being aches as if you were dead. My bedchamber has grown colder without you and Winterfell is less home.

Perhaps it would have been easier if he had been dead. His family would not have needed to mourn a living man, there would have been a definite end. Bones and a statue in a crypt. Something to weep over. Instead he was gone. Separated from what he had built with Catelyn. Dead to the world and still alive, they could long for him and he could long for them.

I know I have most likely caused you further pain through this letter. That perhaps you had built a happy vision of us in your mind and I have now shattered it. I apologise for that, though I had to write. I could not stand to think our last interaction after so many years of marriage would take place in a brothel in King’s Landing, and that I would never be allowed to say a proper farewell. I say farewell now. I thank you for the years we had together. I thank you for the children you gave me, the lives we made together. I thank you for every smile, for every laugh. I thank you for the sleepless nights. I never thought myself to be the kind of woman to say these things, though in the end it seems I am.

“I hear you received a letter, what news from Winterfell?”

Ned flinched and looked up from the letter, noticing that his son had entered. What little news arrived at Castle Black traveled so quickly.

Jon frowned when he met his eyes.

“Are you weeping, Father?” he asked. “Has something happened?”

Ned raised a hand to his face, found that the tears had fallen from his eyes. He took a shaky breath and attempted to dry the tears with the back of his hand. Had he ever wept in front of one of his children? He did not believe so.

“The letter is from my wif– from Lady Catelyn” Ned croaked.

His voice was barely enough to carry the words. It all hurt. He had pushed the pain so far away that he had been unable to feel it, though when faced with a letter written by Catelyn he could not do so anymore. It was like drowning.

“Oh” Jon said, and the disappointment in his voice was obvious. “Does she say anything of Robb and the others? Are they well?”

“They’re still somewhat… shaken after what happened in King’s Landing. Though well, in the end. They all have their health.”

He did not know what else to say. Could not bear to tell Jon of what Catelyn described in the letter. Perhaps one day he would, though not that day.

“I understand.”

Jon had to miss his brothers and sisters even as he did not say it. He refused to show any weakness in front of Ned, he had become so grown. Still all Ned saw when he looked at him was the little boy he had brought with him back to Winterfell.

“Are you coming to eat?” Jon then asked. “The others are waiting for you.”

Ned looked down at the letter before turning his eyes back to Jon. He had not yet finished reading the letter, and he wanted to do so in peace. He wanted no one to see the hurt the raven had brought with it to Castle Black. That letter, those words, belonged to him and him alone. He wished for solitude.

“I am not hungry” he answered.

He should have been, he had stood watch all through the day, though he could not feel hunger. The last thing he wanted was to eat.

“Alright. You know where I’ll be, should you change your mind.”

Ned looked after the boy as he left. Jon. A bastard, just as Joffrey. Hidden away because of whom had sired him.

It was hard to keep reading once he had been interrupted. He did not want the letter to end, he did not want Catelyn’s words for him to be over. He sat there and looked at the auburn lock, at the page it had been attached to. Catelyn’s hand had moved over that page, she had touched it. She had written every word and then she had cut a lock of her hair so that he could have a small something of her. How he loved her hair.

Much time must have passed before he could find it in himself to keep reading. It was hard, he struggled with every word. And the tears did not seem to want to stop. Though in the end he managed to finish the letter.

He read it again. And again. And again. He read it until he would have been able to recite parts of it from memory. He wanted more. He wanted to speak with her, he wanted to answer her. He wanted to hold her hands and look into her eyes as he did it.

By the time he folded the letter and put it under his pillow so that it would be safe he had lost count of how many times he had read it. Many. And he would read it again and again, even as it pained him, because it was Catelyn that had written to him. The woman who had loved him. The woman he had loved.

The cage creaked as he once again ascended the Wall. The stairs that led to the top of the Wall would have been a pain even for the strongest of men, with his bad leg he could barely climb up short flights of stairs. So he stood in the large cage, he felt the air grow colder and the winds become stronger as he came higher up.

Much of his day had been spent looking beyond the Wall, that time he did not. He looked towards the Seven Kingdoms. Towards the North. Somewhere in the darkness, leagues away, was Winterfell. Winterfell and Catelyn and their children. He wondered what Catelyn was doing. If she was with the children. Perhaps they were taking their supper together. To imagine them was painful.

I desperately wish you had acted differently so that it had not ended this way. I was not yet prepared, not in the least. You can be a fool at times. Perhaps one day you will wander south with your new brothers and I will be allowed to look upon your face once more. If not, then I hope to reunite with you in the life that comes after this. I will wait for however long it takes, as I have always done.

Life was not a precious thing to him, he had learned to die long ago. Though in doing so it was certain that he would never see the faces of his children again. That he would never see Catelyn again. She said she would wait for him. It seemed terribly unfair to ask that of her.

There are a thousand more things I would like to say and should we ever see each other again I will tell you as many as time allows. Though for now I will end this by urging Lord Commander Mormont, or whoever gets hold of this letter first, to let you read it. Eddard Stark will not desert even as I write him all this, he is too bound by duty and honour. He does not waver. I have both loved and despised him for it.

He would not desert. Deserting would give him nothing. All he wanted was to return to them and if he did so it would most certainly mean his death. If he reached Winterfell he would be executed, the same as any other man. And Robb would be forced to be the one to swing the sword. It would be a cruel fate for his son.

Now, Ned, should Benjen return I want you to tell him I send my warmest regards. Dream of me and the children instead of all the terrible things in the world. Avoid drowning in the darkness, I know you have close to that. Stay alive, defend the realm from what lies beyond, and I will manage Winterfell. I will be Lady Stark even as I am without my Lord Stark.

The wind howled around him. It pulled at his clothes, wanted to lift him from where he stood. If only he had had wings, if only he had been able to sail on those winds. Back to Winterfell. To the warmth of Catelyn’s embrace. Ned closed his eyes and imagined it, longed for something that could never be again.

Yours forever, Catelyn