#but like..... i want them to be together forever and it sounds dumb because i dont know them and theyre celebrities anf all that stuff

[rebelfell]

multiples.

eddie munson x fem!reader

“Multiple? Multiple what?”

cw: smut blurb about eddie making sure you arrive properly. ref to period pain, fingering, oral (m & f receiving)

2.7k 18+ MDNI

Eddie has a problem.

No, no, no—not a problem. That makes it sound like there was some issue he had to resolve or a task he had to complete. This is more delicate than that. A conundrum, maybe? A dilemma? Whatever he called it, it had consumed him for weeks now. And it boiled down to one thing:

He was pretty sure you weren’t coming.

At first, it was difficult to put a finger on what exactly was throwing him off. 

When the two of you got together, he was thrilled. Like, running through the streets naked, jumping on top of moving cars, Wilhelm screaming, over the goddamn moon kind of thrilled. He’d been into you since forever and had always felt totally comfortable around you. You were hilarious and cool and probably definitely the smartest person he knew, easy—not that the rest of his friends were like Rhodes scholars or anything.

Still, it kind of blew him away that someone like you was actually interested in him.

The longer you saw one another and the closer you got, he only liked you more and more. Then you guys started doing stuff and he sort of kind of lost his fucking mind. He’d never been with a person that felt so much like home; someone he felt like he could spend forever with, if you’d only have him. And the sex was…unbelievable.

You let your bodies have long, in-depth conversations that lasted into the night and then picked right back up again in the early morning. He hadn’t ruined this many sets of sheets since he was a snot-nosed pre-teen first discovering the loving embrace of his own fist. But as the fog of your initial sex haze dissipated, he couldn’t shake this one thought that kept coming back.

He didn’t want to toot his own horn or anything, but Eddie had it on pretty good authority he was above average when it came to making girls arrive. And with you…

Well, it was just different.

You were pretty quiet, for one. Which was kind of odd, considering how brash and brazen you could be normally. Eddie thought maybe you were just more subdued during sex. Sometimes it was the quietest, most mousy-looking girls who rattled his trailer roof the hardest. So maybe the reverse was also true? And there was nothing wrong with that, if it was. Just because he was vocal in bed, it certainly didn’t mean he expected you to be.

But when you came—or rather, when you said you were—it just didn’t quite feel like he expected.

He was no expert, mind you. But after having dealt so much in theatricality and role play, he’d developed quite an ear for insincerity. And you are anything but insincere.

When he had you pinned underneath him, his hips snapping as he drove you into the mattress, the way you squirmed and writhed and squeezed around him was pure fucking bliss. But then, just when he thought he was getting you going, you would be wrapping your hand around the back of his neck and pulling him in close so he could hear your heated whisper.

“Gonna come for me, beautiful?” he’d ask, his hand dipping between your bodies to rub at your clit. You’d nod, almost too blissed out to speak.

“I did, I did,” you told him, more breath than words. “I came already—I wanna feel you.”

And, well, when you say it like that…it’s all he can do not to blow his load on the spot. 

It’s not that he doesn’t believe you. He just thinks maybe you don’t know what it feels like to really come. So it’s not that you’re faking—something is definitely happening down there—it’s just not an orgasm. At least not a decent one.

At least not one he wants to claim.

Considering the guys you’d dated, he’s not all that surprised. They all sounded like losers who worried about themselves first and only. Dumb jerks who thought their dicks were magic wands that made girls come as soon as they set foot in the lobby. He didn’t want to be like them.

He wanted to take you to the fucking penthouse.

But it’s tricky. He can’t just bring up something like this, can he? He doesn’t want to offend you. He doesn’t want you thinking he’s saying there’s something wrong with you. Because of course there isn’t. And he doesn’t want to keep going without you knowing what he’s trying to do.

Like he said…it’s delicate.

So the next time he had you over, he let you lead. He made no move to change your course as you kissed down his bare inked chest, over the sparse patch of hair that swirled just beneath his navel, and pulled him hot and leaking from behind his blue checkered shield. And even as his instincts screamed in protest, he let you take him into the warmth of your mouth and bob on his cock until he came—a shuddering, whining, blubbering mess as he filled your throat.

All part of the plan. All part of the plan.

It took a bit of time for him to recover and he spent every second of it loving on you—each graze of his fingers and lips leisurely, but thorough. He kissed all the parts of you he thought might have been left unattended too long: the undersides of your breasts marked by the indentations of your bra; the soft span of skin that ran along the inside of your forearm to the crease of your elbow; the sides of your ribcage that quivered at the tickle of his warm breath.

And he watched your face every step of the way, studying you until you dropped fully into that deeply relaxed state. He let his hand drift down between your legs, skimming them over the sensitive skin there, making you tremble all over in anticipation. Alright, this was it.

“Hey, baby,” he murmured, a low rumble between kisses along your collarbone.

“Yeah?”

You hummed out your reply, looking down at him with heavy lidded eyes, half gone already. It made Eddie grin, his smile all teeth.

Oh, this was gonna be fun.

“I was wondering if you’ve ever had a multiple?”

The question made your brow wrinkle and you frowned slightly. “Multiple? Multiple what?”

“Multiple orgasms,” he said with a light chuckle. “Like if I fingered you until you came and then went down on you until you came again. Made you come over, and over, and over…”

You gasped as his tongue traced the shell of your ear, sending shivers down your body.

“Can that…does that happen?” you asked with a breathy sigh. He just smiled at the adorably incredulous look on your face and nodded.

“Of course,” he said. “I think that’s like the main thing you guys have going for you in this arena. Something to make up for all the annoying shit you have to put up with from your body.”

Another chuckle makes his chest shake as he rubs a hand over your lower belly, remembering how you’d asked him once just to press on it with his strong, warm palm and offer some relief from your cramps that were particularly bad one night.

“Oh. I mean…I’ve heard that, I guess. I kind of always thought it was a joke.”

“Well, I might not get you there,” Eddie said, giving you a smile he hopes is reassuring. “And if it doesn’t feel good or it hurts or anything, just tell me and we’ll stop. No harm, no foul.”

You pinched the edge of his comforter between your fingers and tugged at it, twisting it into a little peak at your side. “That sounds…really good,” you told him quietly.

“So, I can try?” he asked, brow lifting. “It’s okay?”

“I mean, yeah…” You chewed your lip, still a little hesitant. “But what about you?”

Eddie smirked, all sly and wily as he brushed the backs of his fingers along the softness of your cheek. “We did me already,” he reminded you.

Your cheeks heated at the memory, the taste of his come still sitting warm on your tongue as you swallowed thickly. Admittedly, you’d been kind of surprised when he let you go down on him first and actually finished in your mouth. Normally he was tugging you off him as soon as he felt himself losing it, grunting out something about not wanting to go too quickly.

“Okay,” you said with a small smile. “It just seems a little unfair”

“How’s it unfair if it’s what I want?” he murmured, voice dropping back to that low rumble.

Hard to argue with that, you supposed. 

A beaming smile spread across your face and you twisted your fingers in the ball chain necklace that dangled around his neck to pull him closer. You answered his question with the press of your lips against his own, inhaling a shaky breath when you pulled away. Eddie’s nose nudged against yours, mashing into the softness of your cheek to resume the kiss. His hand came up to cradle your jaw and his mouth moved in that slow, sensuous way that made your insides dance and leap and spin like an entire company of ballerinas.

The kiss itself is so dizzying, you almost forgot about Eddie’s initial intentions until you felt his fingers begin to gently glide through your soaking folds. He swallowed your little mewl of relief as two of them finally sank inside your warmth while his thumb brushed teasingly light over your clit. It doesn’t take long at all for your arousal to coat his fingers, for your body to gush for him.

“Ed, I’m…I’m coming,” you breathed out, tingling with that initial burst of pleasure.

“Thats it, baby,” Eddie nodded, going along with it one last time. “You’re doing so good for me.”

He drew a single, high moan out of you—more like a gasp of relief as your body fully relaxed and all the stiffness in your shoulders and tension in your limbs melted away. You let your head loll to the side and smiled, almost dazed with the feeling. Pride surged in his chest from the way you looked at him sometimes—so perfectly content and elated because he was all yours. 

The look he gave you was rapturous as he licked his lips and started to make his way down, leaving a trail of kisses in his wake that dotted across your chest, between the valley of your breasts, down your sternum and the soft pudge of your tummy. You propped yourself up to watch him as his mop of dark curls dipped between your thighs, fingers still sitting snug inside your warm, wet walls. Your chest rose and fell with each deep breath and he could only imagine how hard your heart must be pounding for you to try and slow it like you are.

“I’m gonna try for another, okay?” he soothed. “Stay relaxed for me, beautiful.”

You nodded back and let your head drop down, sinking deep into the embrace of your pillow.

Eddie pumped his fingers a few more times, faster now and crooking them upwards in search of that spot inside you that had eluded him far too long. The deftness of his touch coupled with the eager swipes of his tongue had your body heaving now as he traced a maddening pattern, swirling side to side and weaving it through your center.

Eyes suddenly fluttering open and closed, you whined softly and squirmed in his grasp as his tongue decisively swerved away from where you needed him most. The anticipation made your hips rock into his face, chasing more of the feeling as he teased you relentlessly.

His free arm promptly wrapped around your thigh, his hand gripping at the soft flesh to keep your legs spread apart. He was deeply thorough in his exploration, nose occasionally brushing against your clit that was practically crying out for his attention. His hot breath fanned along your inner thighs and he moaned deeply with each lick so you could feel the vibrations in your core.

You lost track of how long he was down there, allowing yourself to be swept away with the riot of sensations, realizing just a little too late your body was working towards something new. 

The feeling creeps up on you, trickling through your muscles, causing all of them to twitch and spasm, tensing and releasing in waves. Little whines and pants of pleasure start to spill out of your mouth, the desperate little sounds like the most beautiful music to Eddie’s ears.

It makes him grind down into the bed, desperate to hear more.

“Feel good?” he asked, brow lifting behind sweaty bangs as round doe eyes look up at you.

“So g-good,” you panted, the sound almost pained with pleasure. “So sensitive…”

“You taste like heaven, you know that?” he murmurs to your cunt. “I could do this forever.”

He genuinely could, but it seems he won’t have to. You’re getting close now. He can feel it in the way your thighs start to tremble against his ears; the way another gush of you floods across his tongue. His eyes darted sideways to where your hand rests on the blanket, flexing with the need to grab onto something. Anything.

One last time, he squeezed at the meat of your thigh and then unwrapped his arm from around it to reach out instead and thread his fingers with yours. Your grip is bone crushing and only makes him hold on tighter as he points the tip of his tongue to increase its pressure.

“E-Eddie, it feels…something feels different…”

“It’s okay, baby,” he said, the pace of his fingers never faltering. “I’ve got you, just let go.”

He wished he could bottle the look on your face. Eyes scrunched up, brow furrowed as though you were deep in concentration. Lips parted in a wanton gasp as your chest swelled. His mouth came back to your clit, resuming the motions that had you clenching around his fingers.

“Oh…ohhh my…oh, fuck…”

When he feels you starting to unravel, feels that band coiled tight in your core start to snap, it takes everything he has in him to stay the course—especially when the hand of yours he’s not holding winds into his hair and you grasp desperately at his curls. The groan it elicits from him is deep and guttural, the sound of it radiating in the room. And finally he feels it happening—your pussy spasming around his fingers, threatening to snap them clean off you’re clenching so tight; hips bucking and stomach quivering with the effort of drawing breath.

“Fuck, Eddie, don’t stop!” you cried out. “That feels so good, holy fucking shit—”

So much for being quiet, Eddie thought mischievously.

Your head is pushing back into the pillow now, back arching under you, lifting you off the bed. He’s clamped tight against you though, his lips sealed around your clit and sucking like his life depends on it. In a way, it feels like it does.

“I’m gon…I’m gonna…I’m co—”

The words dissolve into a moan, the sound of it higher and louder than anything else Eddie has drawn out of you before. Pride explodes in his chest as he finally feels what he’s been waiting for—that exquisite vice around his fingers as he continues to stroke that sacred spot.

Your body floods with the feeling, waves of it surging through you, seeing white behind your eyes that are still pinched shut. It’s unlike anything you’ve ever felt before—every synapse firing at once, every molecule in your body exploding like a tiny firework.

Distantly, you register his voice coaxing you through it as you reluctantly return to earth. Yes, baby, that’s it, thaaaat’s it—fuck me, you’re so fucking hot when you come, Jesus fucking Christ…

You opened your eyes, blinking through bleary vision as the world came back into focus.

Eddie grinned, smile almost wolfish when he lifted himself from between your legs. Triumph flashed in his dark eyes, his gaze roving all over as he began a slow crawl up your body, his cock now standing at attention with its vigor renewed.

“Okay,” he panted, dragging his hand across his mouth and chin that were slick with your spend as he leaned in to kiss you. “That’s one.”

#eddie munson #eddie munson x you #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson x female reader #eddie munson smut #eddie stranger things #eddie munson fluff #eddie munson fanfic #eddie munson blurb #eddie munson fanfiction #stranger things fic #stranger things smut #ok I went back over it and feel a lil better now #so if it suddenly seems longer… #that’s what she said

[fettuccin-e]

Tag-Teaming

Kinktober Day 5: Threesome

Tags: Frankie "Catfish" Morales x Reader x Santiago "Pope" Garcia, afab!fem!reader, tag-teaming, unprotected piv (wrap it up gang dont be dumb), fingering and oral (f!recieving), Santi and Frankie both have filthy mouths how dare they (w/c: 1.1K)

A/N: I have been wanting to write a Santi x Frankie x Reader fic for forever okay and kinktober really gave me an excuse, but writing threesomes is so HARD (in more ways than one hehehe) so props to anyone who can write threesomes regularly because it's so difficult. Anyway these two can sandwich me between them anytime (I have been following prompts from this list by @flightlessangelwings!)

It shouldn’t surprise you how good they are together, how well they work. They’re a team. They've always been a team. Why would this be any different?

But fuck, it’s so much different experiencing it, not just seeing it in the field. Frankie plastered against your back, your legs braced over his thighs as he spreads you apart, spreading you so wide for Santiago. Fucking Santi, his cock pressed so deep inside you it’s like you can’t breathe, pressing kiss after kiss to your lips as he breaks you open around him.

“Fuck her harder Pope,” Frankie grumbles, pinching your aching clit between two wonderfully calloused fingers. “Fuck her like you goddamn mean it.” His voice in your ear, his filthy fucking mouth, make your cunt clench around Santi’s cock, and the man groans at both the feeling and Frankie’s command, pounding his cock into you hard.

Frankie rubs furiously at your clit, sending your back arching against his chest, gasping for air. “That’s it, baby, that’s it. Let yourself fuckin’ feel it. Santi’s cock feels so good, doesn’t it?”

“God, yes, oh my fucking God,” you whine. Santi chuckles, all smugness and delirious pleasure. He rocks into you at an angle that has him jamming into your sweet spot relentlessly. “He feels so fucking good, ‘s so fucking big.”

Santi leans forward again, capturing your lips with his. “You think I’m big, hermosa, I can’t wait to see how you take Frankie’s cock. He’s gonna split you apart, stretch this pussy so fuckin’ wide,” Santi mutters against your mouth.

The thought makes you moan, pressing back against the unmistakable length of Frankie's cock, hard and aching, pressed against your skin. You hear Frankie suck in a labored breath, his fingers pausing on your clit. “You wanna cum, sweetheart?" Santi says, his voice dark with promise. "Get all loose to take Frankie so deep in this little cunt?”

This time, Frankie groans from behind you, deep and rumbling. The sound is intoxicating, especially as his fingers start rubbing at your pussy all over again. An endless mantra of “please, please, please,” escapes from your lips, and Santi growls, fucking into you so hard it makes tears spring to your eyes. You claw at Santi’s back, into Frankie’s forearm, gripping onto them both for dear life.

“C’mon, baby, cum on Santi’s cock, bet you look so pretty when you do. Wanna feel this pretty pussy clench around his cock,” Frankie murmurs darkly in your ear. He snakes his other hand up for body, pinching one of your nipples between his fingers. “Don’t you want to see Santi cum, cariño? Won’t he look so pretty?” 

A look up at Santi, his curls drenched with sweat, flush high on his cheeks as his hips work between yours, has you nodding furiously at Frankie’s words, and fuck, you’re cumming at the sight of him, of Santi, so beautiful and debauched between your thighs. Your body locks up with it, your pussy clenching around his length still working into you, Frankie holding you tightly to his chest as Santi fucks you through it.

“Fuck, yes, that’s it,” Santi growls, pressing himself as deep into you as he can, his hips twitching as he fills you up. And God, Frankie was right, Santi is beautiful, twitching through his orgasm, jaw clenched and pupils blown wide. He leans forward to kiss you in a way that is fucking filthy, licking into your mouth desperately, swallowing your moans. You breathe together through it, and when you finally stop trembling, Santi pulls away from your mouth with a feral grin.

“Wanna give Fish a turn, baby?” he whispers, and you manage to mumble a yes, even though your brain has been turned to mush. Santi chuckles, the smug bastard, and slips out of you, the emptiness making you whimper.

“I know, bebita, I know,” Santi says, pressing a kiss to your lips. “Frankie’s gonna fill you up again, I promise.”

You lift your hips, turning  your head to press a kiss to Frankie’s lips as Santi grabs Frankie's cock, pressing the tip to your entrance. Fuck, it’s thick, popping past your entrance as you sink your hips down, down, stretching yourself around him. It seems fucking endless, how deep he reaches into your cunt.

“That’s it, baby, it’s so big, isn’t it?" Santi whispers, "Frankie fills you up so good, yeah? Treats this pretty pussy like it fucking deserves?”

“Santiago.” Frankie growls, his fingers digging into your thighs as you clench around him like a vice at Santi’s words. Fuck, he’s so close already. Watching Pope fuck you already had his cock throbbing beneath you, and now, in the hot clutch of your cunt, he feels like a goddamn virgin. And with Santiago whispering some of the filthiest shit he’s ever heard in his life between the three of you, there’s no way he can last very long.

He’ll make you cum first though. Of course he will.

You nearly scream as Frankie pumps his hips up beneath you, spearing you deep on his cock. He holds tight to your thighs as he pounds furiously in and out of you, ripping you to pieces on top of him. He’s so fucking warm against your back, Santi radiating heat against your front, and you swear to God that you could pass out then and there. Fuck, it’s so good, Frankie’s cock drags against your g-spot with every fucking thrust, unrelenting and utterly debilitating.

And then, Santi lays down on his front, eyes trained on where you and Frankie are connected, and sucks your clit into his hot mouth.

This time, you really do scream, your hands flying down to tangle in Santi’s hair while he licks feverishly at your clit, and you cum, Santi licking between your legs, Frankie pounding up into your cunt. You thrash between them, utterly lost in the feeling of it, hot tears leaking down your cheeks.

“Fuck yes, baby, that’s our good girl,” Frankie groans from behind you.

“Please, please cum Frankie, need you to fucking cum,” you cry, and Frankie has no choice but to follow your orders. He sinks deep inside, biting into your shoulder as he drowns your pussy in his cum. The thought of it mixing with Pope’s inside of you has him shaking through his orgasm.

“God, look at that,” Santi murmurs from between your legs, watching you clench around Frankie so tight he can barely move, cum leaking out around where Frankie is buried deep inside you. His cock twitches at the sight. Later, he thinks, later, we’ll do this again, over and over.

For now, he helps Fish guide you off of his lap, laying you between them. The three of you plaster yourselves against each other, breathing together. A unit, a team. 

You wouldn’t have it any other way.

#i fr need them both right fucking now #santi frankie sandwich <3 #yeah frankie has a massive schlong #frankie x reader x santi #frankie morales x reader x santiago garcia #catfish x reader x pope #frankie morales x reader #frankie morales smut #frankie morales x you #santiago garcia x you #santiago garcia smut #santiago garcia x reader #santiago pope garcia #frankie catfish morales #triple frontier x you #triple frontier smut #triple frontier x reader

[sanguineterrain]

i'll put us back together at heart - s.h.

Summary: It's 1987. You haven't spoken to Steve Harrington in nearly five years. Then Dustin Henderson tells you about a sweet deal he has at Family Video, where he can rent any movie he wants.

Pairing: ex-best friend!Steve Harrington x fem!reader

Word count: 8.8k

Warnings/tags: friends to strangers to lovers. the reader is twenty in 1987 and i technically made steve twenty-one/about to turn twenty-one. s4 happened but eddie's alive and vecna's dead. no earthquakes or anything like that; reader has no idea about what really happened. lots of angst, mentions of billy hargrove (yuck) and steve's s1 asshole friends.

A/N: oh my lord. i don't know where this eighteen-wheeler of a fic came from but here it is. there is a happy ending, not to worry. i'd never do that to y'all &lt;3 feedback and reblogs are always always appreciated!

divider by firefly-graphics

August 1981

"I wish we could stay eighth graders forever."

You lift your head from your orange pool floaty. Steve drifts on the surface of the water. His hair is longer, way longer than you've seen it in the three years you've been friends. He says it's better for styling that way; he's even bought a gel and cream for his hair. You don't understand why he wants to change something that doesn't need changing. 

"Why?" you ask. "I thought you were excited for high school."

He hums. The sound echoes in his backyard. 

"It's bigger than middle school. More kids, more teachers, more work. I like eighth grade."

"I'll help you with your work," you say. 

Steve turns his head and smiles at you. Part of his face is in the water, the image distorted. 

"You'll do great," he replies. "You're so smart."

Steve doesn't say those things to get you to help him like other kids do. Steve means it. 

"You'll do great too," you say. "You're funny and nice and my best friend. People will like you."

"You think?" 

You nod. Steve turns his head and closes his eyes again. 

"We'll stay friends, right?" he asks. 

The floaty squeaks as you move to sit up. You paddle to Steve so you can look at his face. 

"Why wouldn't we?"

"I dunno." His eyes are still closed. "You might make super smart friends. And I'll just be a dumbass holding you back."

You shove Steve's shoulder lightly. 

"You are not dumb, Steve."

One muggy June night had had Steve admit he wasn't thirteen, like you and all the kids in your class, but fourteen. He had been held back in third grade after his parents moved from Illinois. It's why my brain's mush, he'd said. I was born dumb.

He had made you swear not to tell anyone. 

"You're not dumb," you say again. "Say it, Steve. Say you're not dumb."

His frown deepens, but he still won't look at you. 

"Tommy says I am."

"Tommy Hagan is a shithead," you shoot back with so much venom, Steve's eyes fly open. "It's not true, whatever he tells you."

You hate that they've been hanging out more this summer. You can't tell Steve that, because it's not like you own him. He can be friends with whoever he wants. But you can't help that your skin crawls when Tommy and his stupid girlfriend, Carol, drops by and pulls Steve away from you. 

“Promise?” he asks.

“Yes, Steve. I promise.”

“‘Kay.” Steve smiles a little. “Thanks.” 

You nod and lay back on the floaty. 

“Wanna get ice cream after this?” he asks. 

“Just us?” 

“Just us.”

Now. (January, 1987)

You slam the phone back onto the receiver. A girl playing Pac-Man carefully glances at you. 

Whoops. Right. You're still at work. 

You smile and give a thumbs-up. She turns around. You return to your wallowing. 

You’ve called three different video rentals. Jewel Films, which is about to go out of business; More Movies, whose attendant hung up on you before you could say Molly Ringwald; and finally, Blockbuster, which is thirty minutes outside of Hawkins. None of them have a copy of Pretty in Pink. 

And okay. You could just watch another movie. You don't need that specific one. But this year has been shit. You'd thought after starting college, you'd finally break out of the Hawkins forcefield that had limited your social life. You'd thought you'd make friends and not be so terribly lonely. Life is supposed to get better after high school, isn’t it? 

Obviously, whoever said that is a big, fat liar. 

“Dude!” you hear a familiar voice exclaim. “Stop hogging the game!”

Tawny curls peek from under a green and yellow hat. The hat hovers over an older boy who’s glued to the Tempest booth. You go to them. Dustin Henderson lights up when he sees you. You can read his hat now; it says Camp Know Where ‘85.

“Hey, Y/N!” he greets brightly. “This guy has been here for a half hour. I left to get nachos and when I came back, he was still here.”

“I’m this close to beating my score!” the kid insists.

“Come on, guy," you say, one arm on the machine. "You gotta give other people a turn."

The kid, evidently demon incarnate, sneers at you.

“Who’s gonna make me? You?” 

You lean against the side of the game, considering.

“How old are you?”

“Sixteen,” he says.

You snort. 

“Sixteen? And you’re still on Tempest?”

He glances at you. 

“So?”

“Everybody your age is playing Rampage, that’s all.” 

You wink at Dustin. He beams.

“And, uh, I saw a couple girls hanging around Rampage,” you add. 

The kid turns to you. You tilt your head innocently. 

“Seriously?” he asks.

“Seriously. People always flock to the new games.”

Which is true. The girls part is not, but he doesn’t need to know that. With that attitude, he won't be getting many phone numbers anyway. 

You drum your fingers on the game like you have all the time in the world. And sure enough, the kid takes his quarters and heads towards Rampage. Dustin jumps in delight. 

“You’re awesome, Y/N!" 

You grin. “I try. Where are the others?”

Dustin sours.

“They ditched me. To hang out with their girlfriends! Can you believe that shit?” 

“No way!"

He shakes his head.

“I know, right? My friend told me that that’s what happens in high school. People change, y’know? And he’d know, I guess. He’s old like you.”

You scoff. “You make me sound like some kind of ancient. I’m not that old, Henderson.”

“It’s okay, Y/N.” He pats your arm. “In many cultures, the elderly are wise. Now in my experience, this hasn’t been the case. But I think you’re wise.”

“Gee, thanks.”

Dustin smiles like the little shit he is and puts his change in the slot. 

“Well, contrary to what this other friend says, I’m sure it’ll pass,” you say. “You guys will hang out again." 

You swallow your acidic truth. Dustin's a good kid, and so are his friends. You don't want him to turn cynical like you have. He's too young. 

Dustin shrugs, starting the game.

“I guess so. I got a copy of The Lost Boys for us to watch on Friday. They said they’ll be there.”

“Whoa, seriously? That one just came out, how’d you get a copy?”

“My friend,” he says. “The one I mentioned. He works at Family Video and reserves stuff for me.”

“Huh. I thought Family Video was closed."

You'd applied to work there last year and never got a call back. You'd gone by once and it had looked abandoned. Hence why you now work at the arcade across town. 

"It almost did, but Keith took over so now it's barely scraping by."

"Ah. Sweet deal on the movies."

“Yeah,” Dustin agrees, eyes crinkling. “My friend's pretty cool. You'd like him."

"Would I now?"

"Absolutely," he gushes. "He's a total badass too. He won his first fight last year. He used to be a jock but he's recovered." 

"Wow. Impressive."

"Mmhm. I could ask him to hold stuff for you too, if you wanted.”

“You would?”

The game makes a sad game over noise. Dustin sighs and takes a gulp of his slushie.

“Yeah, totally,” he says through a mouthful of blue raspberry ice. “Which one do you want?”

“Pretty in Pink? I missed it in theaters."

“Sure. I’ll tell him to hold it tonight and tomorrow you can pick it up.”

“Cool. Thanks, Dustin.”

Dustin gives you an apple-cheeked grin.

“Gotta stay in good graces with the arcade attendant who lets me play Tempest as long as I want.”

"I don't know what you're talking about," you say, walking away. "Don't get slushie on the game."

"'Kay!"

Dustin only gets a little bit of slushie on the game, but he cleans it up with about a million of the cheap snack bar napkins. When he leaves, he tells you to mention his name at Family. 

"Who do I ask for?" 

"You can talk to either of them," Dustin says. "Doesn't matter. Except Keith. You know Keith, right?"

"Unfortunately.” Keith used to terrorize the arcade before he blessedly moved on. “He works there?"

"Barely." Dustin scoffs. "He's almost never there, so don't worry. And feel free to ask for more movies. They owe me one."

Your sole interactions are with professors and a gaggle of high school freshmen. But now you get to watch any movie you want. Maybe this year won't totally suck. 

The bell rings pleasantly as you step inside. There's a few people on line, so you take your time walking in. There's a movie display with about thirty copies of RoboCop. A cardboard cutout of RoboCop stares back behind his red helmet.

"Can I help who's next?"

You go to the counter. A girl about your age with a choppy haircut smiles at you but it's sort of strained. She has a pin on her green work vest that says Ask me!

"Please don't ask for Adventures in Babysitting," she says. 

"Oh. No, I'm, uh, Dustin's friend?" 

You can't believe you're name-dropping a high schooler. 

She nods in realization. 

"Oh, yeah. God, I keep telling that dweeb not to promise holds."

You wince. 

"Sorry. If it's going to get you in trouble…"

Her brows raise. She smiles a bit. 

"No, it's okay. Usually my coworker deals with it but, well. He's taking an extra long break today. So, what movie was it?"

"Pretty in Pink," you say. 

"Classic," she replies. "John Hughes fan?"

"Somewhat. I didn't get to see it in theaters. I like Molly Ringwald."

She grins.

"Me too. She's pretty."

"Super pretty," you agree. 

The girl considers you, then sticks out her hand. 

"I'm Robin," she says. "Nice to meet you."

You take her hand. "Y/N.”

"Did you go to Hawkins High?"

"I did. Graduated last year."

"Oh, cool. Are you in college?"

You nod. 

"Hawkins State. Twenty minutes from here."

"Sweet! I'm taking a gap year, but afterwards, I’m gonna apply there. It's cheap. College is college, right?"

"College is college," you agree. "But I wish I'd gone away for school."

You don't know why you're telling her this. You've known Robin for all of two minutes. But she seems friendly. And her sense of style is cool. She wears a blue blazer and tie underneath her vest. 

"How come?" she asks. 

"Everybody from Hawkins is there," you say. "And I… I just want a new start."

Robin smiles sympathetically. 

"They're jerks," she says. 

You huff. "Yeah."

You'd turned yourself into a social recluse a million years ago. It's your own damn fault you can't befriend anybody in this town. At least, not anymore. 

Robin types into the computer, then smacks the monitor. She groans. 

"Ugh. Gimme a second," she says. "Stupid technology."

"No problem," you say, smiling. You like her. Maybe you can integrate Family Video into your regular routine, become friends. You can see Robin becoming a good friend. One you wouldn't grow apart from. 

She disappears into the back room. You browse the old releases and stop at Die Hard. This one you saw in theaters. John McClane is a badass. 

You think of Dustin, and his supposedly badass new friend. It's too bad you didn't meet today. Dustin has a good sense about people. If he says so, it's possible you and this friend really would get on. 

The bell rings again. You're slow to look up. The entrance is empty when you do. You keep reading about John McClane's adventures. 

"Have you been waiting long?"

You turn at the new voice. The video slips out of your hand and clatters onto the counter. 

Steve’s hair has grown since you last saw it. He looks different too, though he has yet to break out of his signature church boy polos. There's a smattering of stubble on his jaw. His arms are lean with muscle. He wears a matching work vest like Robin's, name tag printed Steve in blocky font. 

He looks at where you've dropped Die Hard and smiles. 

"This is a good one," he says. "John McClane is a total badass."

You blink.

"Did you want to rent that one?" he continues, meeting your eye. 

"No," you manage. 

"Okay, no problem. Just browsing?" 

He doesn't remember you. 

You stare and stare. Steve leans in, concerned. He's changed, but he hasn't. He's still handsome with his swoopy hair and big, dark eyes, but the Steve you knew wouldn't have been caught dead working at a video store.

And he doesn't remember you. 

"Are you okay?" he asks, sounding genuine.

You take a step back from the counter. The blood roars in your ears. Robin comes back in, Pretty in Pink in hand. She looks at you, then at Steve. 

"Got it!" she tells you. "Computer should work now."

"I have to go," you say. 

You don't look at Steve again, instead focusing on Robin. 

Her brows rise. 

"Oh. Is everything—"

"I forgot my wallet," you blurt. "I can't pay for the movie. Sorry."

"That's okay, we can just—"

You run. The bell chimes over her words. You keep running until you get to the bus stop, three blocks away. 

Only there do you stop to catch your breath. 

And then you cry. 

February 1982

"What do you think about Marie?" 

You look up from your textbook. Steve is doodling in the margins of his notes. You gently prod his arm. He returns to reading but his leg starts to bounce under the table. 

"Marie Iverson?" you ask.

"Yeah." 

Steve glances at you. He pushes his hair back. It had taken him freshman year to get his bearings with all the gels and creams, but now, his hair is a point of pride, always perfectly coiffed. Seniors call him "The Hair" and high-five him in the hallway. You hate it. 

"I don't know. I don't know her that well."

"She's cute." 

"I guess so," you say. 

It's harder to get Steve to focus on homework these days. Last year, he happily made flashcards with you and even bought fancy gel pens to share for your notes. Now, he prefers to talk about girls or—

"I was thinking of asking her out."

The tip of your pencil breaks. You really ought to start using pens, but you don't like being unable to erase. 

"Shit, here. Take mine." 

Steve offers his still perfectly sharpened pencil. You stare at it. 

"Y/N?" 

"Yeah." You take the pencil. "Thanks."

"Sure. So what do you think?" 

"I don't know, Steve. I thought you talked about this stuff with Tommy."

"I would, it's just…" Steve shifts uncomfortably. "He can be rude about it sometimes. He doesn't even get why we're friends, y'know? Doesn't understand why I don't just date you."

Tommy is a moron, but you've said that since last year, and Steve's never listened before. 

"Some people don't get it," you say mildly, because you have an upcoming French test and there's no use in getting upset over Tommy Hagan right now. 

"But you do. And you know about this stuff better than me. Girls and all."

"Just because I'm a girl doesn't mean I know what girls are best for you to date, Steve. It's weird to talk about."

Steve deflates. 

"Oh. Yeah, I guess so. Sorry."

You sigh and rub your temple. 

"I thought you knew all about that," you say, extending an olive branch. "Asking girls out and stuff."

"Well, I mean, I've kissed girls but I've never… you're, like, the only girl I really know."

Something like pride swells in your chest. Selfishly, you want to keep Steve. You don't want to help him if it means losing him. Oh, you're so greedy, aren't you? You watch Steve run off with Tommy and Carol and nameless seniors and seethe, because Steve was yours first. Steve is yours.

"Y/N?"

"Yeah." You give him back his pencil and fish for another one in your bag. "Did you ever think about writing how you feel?" 

"Writing?"

"Yeah, like a poem or a letter."

"I'm terrible at writing," Steve laments. "The letters get all jumbled and I never spell a damn thing right."

He'd told his mom once how letters melt into each other, how b's become d's. She'd taken him to get his eyes checked, and when the doctor said Steve was fine, Deborah Harrington had told her son to stop begging for attention. 

"Someone who really likes you won't care about spelling mistakes, Steve," you tell him. "As long as you write from the heart. Don't do that cheesy shit and quote Romeo and Juliet. They're young, impulsive, and they die at the end, and that's not romantic."

Steve laughs, nose scrunched. 

"What!" you demand. "What's so funny?"

"Nothing, 's just—of course you'd have something to say about quoting Shakespeare."

"It's overdone," you say, crinkling your nose. "And girls would much rather read your own words." 

"So you think I should write Marie a letter?"

"If you really like her," you say. "Only write letters for girls you really like. Otherwise they lose their meaning."

Steve frowns. "I don't know if I should write her a letter, then."

Don't, you want to say. Don't write any of them letters.

You shuffle your papers into a stack. 

"Can we study now?" you ask.

"Oh, sure, yes. Sorry."

"You don't have to keep apologizing, Steve."

He shifts closer to you. His leg has stopped bouncing.

"Lemme take you out," he says. 

You nearly swallow your tongue. 

"Wh–what?"

"For ice cream," Steve clarifies. "Like we used to. Dairy Queen."

"Oh. Okay, sure. But after we study."

Steve beams. "I'll drive you."

Steve's dad had bought him the BMW as a birthday present this year—not that Richard Harrington actually knows when his own son's birthday is, considering the gift was three months early. Still, it's another point of pride for Steve and about all anybody talks about whenever his name comes up. Steve is the only person in your grade with a car. Junior girls hit him up for rides. You make yourself scarce when they do. 

You don't care. You liked Steve before the car. And the clothes. And the hair. 

Your throat feels tight. You want your best friend back. 

"Just us?" you check. 

You can't tell these days. Steve seems to hang out with everybody but you. You're shocked he'd even asked to study together. 

"Oh, sure," Steve says. "I just have to drop off Tommy and Carol first, okay?" 

You check your watch and close your book. 

"I have class," you lie. "I'll see you later." 

Steve catches your wrist. He looks at you and you're struck by how sweet his face is. It's not like you didn't understand why girls want him but it's Steve. Your Steve, who still sleeps with a nightlight and who framed a picture of a sports car he cut out from a magazine because he'd thought it would make him cooler (it didn't. You still tease him about it.) 

"Please," he says. "For helping me."

Your eyes slit. "I didn't help you to get stuff, Steve. I helped you because you're my friend."

Steve blinks like he's forgotten what it's like to be friends with someone just for the sake of being friends. 

"You're right," he agrees. "You're not like that. I'll tell Tommy and Carol to find another ride. It'll be just us. I promise."

You perk up at that. "Really?"

"Really. You can sit in the front with me and we'll play Bruce Springsteen, like we used to. Please?" 

"Okay, Steve." You ache. You’ve never been very good at telling him no. "I'll meet you in the parking lot."

And maybe… maybe your best friend is still in there after all.

Now

You ask your shift manager if you can work at the snack bar today. It's in the back and you won't have to deal with any game hogs. 

"You didn't put enough syrup in my slushie."

You might have overshot the perks, though. 

Slushie Girl's hair is bleach blonde and hairsprayed to God. You want to tell her that all that hairspray doesn't keep friends. Or brain synapses. 

"I don't make the slushie," you say for the third time. "That's how it comes out of the machine."

She shoots you a mean look. 

"I'm complaining to the manager."

You paste on a smile. 

"You do that. Have a nice day."

She finally walks away, probably on the hunt for your manager, who's definitely smoking a joint outside to avoid this exact situation. 

Dustin comes around the corner and this time, he's with the rest of his party. You smile. 

"Hey, Y/N!" Dustin greets.

Lucas waves at you. Max and Mike are arguing and therefore are in their own world. And there's their newest addition, El, whose story you're still not clear on, as well as Will, quiet as always. 

You lean your elbows on the countertop. 

"What'll it be, gang?"

"Six nachos and six slushies, please. One blue raspberry, three cherry, and two Coke."

You fill up the slushies first. Dustin dances on his toes. 

"So did you pick up the movie?" he asks.

"Oh." You try to smile. "I went there but I couldn't. I forgot my money. Pretty dumb of me."

Dustin accepts this with no argument. 

"Well, you can go back. They'll hold it for a few days."

You're never setting foot in there again, but you don't tell Dustin that. 

He takes his slushie and immediately starts drinking. 

"Slow down, dude. You'll get a brain freeze," you say. 

"You sound like Steve," Dustin informs you. "Doesn't Y/N sound like Steve?" 

Lucas nods. 

"Yup. They're both parents."

You feel queasy. You focus on making the nachos, the cheese pouring out thick and gooey. 

"Did you meet Steve?" Dustin asks. "You probably know him from high school, but he's different now."

"Yes," you say quietly. "I knew him."

"I promise he's different. Even Mike likes him, and Mike hated his guts. Right, Mike?"

Mike pauses in his animated discussion with Max and looks at you. 

"What?"

"I'm telling Y/N about how Steve is cool now," Dustin explains. 

"Oh." Mike shrugs. "He's fine. Much better now that he's not dating my sister."

"He's not?" you ask. "But they were in love. I–I mean, that's what I heard, at least."

"She dumped his ass," El says, and it sounds a little ridiculous in her soft monotone. 

Max scoffs, taking her Coke slushie. 

"Did you live under a rock? It was a huge thing."

"Now Steve is lame," Mike says with a snort. 

"Getting dumped doesn't make somebody lame," you say with an old ferocity you'd thought had disappeared. 

"Okay, jeez." Mike holds up his hands. "Steve's alright. He's different, that's for sure."

"He's our paladin," Lucas says. "A protector." 

Dustin nods eagerly.

You blink. "He protects you guys?"

Max elbows Lucas. You have no idea what that's about. El steps forward and smiles softly. 

"Yes," she says. "He's our babysitter."

"Aren't you guys freshmen? I thought you were too old for babysitters."

"Oh no, Steve doesn't get paid for it or anything," says Mike. "He just does it 'cause he has nothing else to do."

"That's not true!" Dustin argues. Then he shrugs. "Well, it's a little true. But he does like us. He's a good guy. He cares about his friends."

You bite your tongue, not wanting to reply to that. 

"That's great, guys. The girl, Robin? She seems pretty cool too."

"That's Steve's best friend," says Dustin. "She's great."

"Oh." You wince. "Best friend?" 

Dustin huffs. “Yeah. They don’t date. He won’t say why."

"Platonic with a capital P," Max confirms. “It’s obviously because he’s in love with somebody else.”

“Not Nancy!” Lucas protests.

“There are other girls besides Nancy, Sinclair.”

You busy yourself with serving the last set of nachos. The kids pull out crumpled bills and coins in return. You count the money and stack it directly into the register; you know there won't be any change. 

When you turn, they're still there. Dustin has his signature grin on, eyes squinty. 

"Yeees," you drag out. "Can I help you?"

"We need a favor," Lucas says. "Please."

"Hmm." You lean over the counter. "What's up?"

"They're showing Prince of Darkness on Friday," Dustin explains. "But it's rated R."

"So just sneak in. Isn't that what you guys did at Starcourt?" you ask.

"We had an inside man then. They're a lot stricter at the new one," Lucas frowns. "They ask for IDs 'cause some mom complained after her kid snuck in to watch Risky Business." 

"And why can't your babysitter take you?"

You sneer at the thought. Steve spending his Friday nights herding a bunch of adolescent teens into a movie theater. There's a reason you consider Dustin affectionately delusional. 

"He has a stupid date," Dustin groans. "He's a serial dater, Y/N. It's terrible. He gets lucky once and totally ditches us."

Now that sounds like the Steve you knew. 

"I see. I don't really like horror stuff."

"You don't have to stay!" Dustin insists. "You can watch whatever you want after we’re in. I'll pay you back for the ticket."

“This would be so much easier if Steve still worked at Scoops,” Mike grumbles.

You blank for a moment, the image of Steve in a sailor’s hat and those ridiculous shorts whiting your brain.

“Um,” you begin. “You know I don’t have a fancy BMW to cart you guys around in, right?”

“It’s cool. We’ll get there,” Max says.

“So?” Dustin bounces on his toes. “Sooo?”

You sigh. It’d been nice of Dustin to get you the movie, even though you’d chickened out and ran. And it’s not like you have anything better to do.

“Okay,” you say. “I’ll get you guys in.”

Dustin pumps his fist. “Thanks, Y/N! You’re my favorite old person.”

You roll your eyes. “Funny. Any funnier, and I might rescind my help, Henderson.”

“Byeeee!”

They all disperse to the arcade. You wonder how on earth Steve got involved with them.

March 1983

“Okay, but if you had to choose.”

“Pass. I would literally rather swallow pennies than kiss Principal Coleman’s bald-ass head, Steve.”

Steve takes a triumphant swig of beer. “So you’re saying you’ve got the hots for Benny the janitor.”

“No!” you insist through giggles. “I don’t. God, you’re gross. Can’t believe I’m being treated like this on your birthday.”

“Exactly! My birthday.”

He rolls onto his side in his deck chair and nearly faceplants on the cement. You reach out, reaction time delayed.

“Steve!” you yell. “Careful.”

“I am, I am,” he mumbles, and rights himself on the chair. “Jus’ wanna see you better.”

“I keep telling you you need glasses.”

“I do not,” he whines. “My vision’s ten outta ten. Could a guy who needs glasses do this?”

He crumples up a Twinkies wrapper and throws it towards the garbage. The wind picks up and sends the wrapped into the pool. 

“Shit,” he says.

You belly laugh in delight.

“Wait, wait, redo. Go fish it outta there.”

“Oh, as if. I’m not going in there. I told you you need glasses. Even Mother Nature agrees.”

"She does not. Mother Nature thinks I'm a doll."

You hum and close your eyes. Alcohol always makes you sleepy. 

The chair scrapes against the concrete. You hear a crinkle of a chip bag. Those are your only warning before you’re crushed by two hundred pounds of drunk boy. 

“Steve!” You wheeze, squirming as his hair tickles your face. “Get off!”

"’M sleepy,” he mumbles.

“Well, don't sleep on me, weirdo.”

“‘S cold.”

“You run, like, a hundred degrees, don’t lie.”

He lifts his head. “So you’re saying I’m hot?”

“I’m saying all that booze cooked your brain,” you reply sweetly.

“I’ve been wounded,” he moans and plops onto your shoulder.

“Ugh.” You resign to your fate and lean back. Steve’s not actually that heavy; even drunk, he has a lot of control over his weight and he’s situated himself so he isn’t crushing anything important. No, you squirm underneath him for a very different reason. 

“Steeeeve,” you whine. “You’re gonna squish me into a pancake.”

“Can’t believe no one else came.”

You still. Steve’s face remains buried in your shoulder. His body is beside yours, and he has an arm slung over your belly.

“I didn’t—didn’t want a party,” he continues. “I always throw parties. I thought I’d do somethin’ different. An’ none of them even wished me a happy birthday. ‘Cept you.”

You rest your hand on the back of his hair. It’s wind-blown and messy from the drinks, free of his heady hair gel. You’ve never loved it more.

“Did you tell them your birthday is today?” you ask gently, even though you know he did.

“Yeah,” he says. “Told all of ‘em. Guess they weren’t listening.”

“I listen.”

Steve looks up at you. His eyes are glassy.

“God, I miss you,” he says.

You feel the wall you’ve built this year crumble, just a little. 

“I’m right here, Steve.”

“I know but—been a jerk lately. I know I have. You’re my best friend, okay? Nothing’ll change that. I–I love you so much.”

Your breath hitches. Steve barrels on, not noticing.

“And I’ll be better. We’ll hang out more. Not–not here, drunk. But for real. We’ll go to the movies. Y’wanna see a movie?”

“Yeah,” you whisper. “I wanna see a movie.”

“‘Kay, what movie? Anything you want. We’ll get popcorn and Raisinets.”

“You hate Raisinets,” you choke through a watery laugh.

“I’d eat Raisinets anytime with you.”

You lay there, in the dark, the only sound being the pool filter.

“Let’s watch the new James Bond.”

“Hmm, okay. But you’ll have to say the name eventually.”

Your nose crinkles. “I am not calling it by its name.”

His laugh is warm in your neck. 

You don’t tell Steve to get up again. He snuggles into you, leg over yours. You fall asleep like that, curled underneath him.

Now

“Wait.” Max stops. “Shouldn’t we have, like, a game plan?”

“Game plan?” El asks quietly.

“Yeah. Some of us aren’t so great at playing it cool.”

She stares at Lucas.

“I play it cool!” he squawks. “I am so cool!”

“Right.”

“Just let Y/N do the talking,” Will says. “She’s technically the adult so she should act like this is a conscious choice.”

You shrug. “Makes sense to me.”

Dustin beams. “This is gonna be great!”

“Or a total disaster,” Max says.

You go to the counter, the kids trailing behind like ducklings.

“Six tickets for Prince of Darkness, please,” you say. “And uh, one for Dirty Dancing.”

The attendant looks at you, then at the kids.

“Don’t you mean seven tickets for Prince of Darkness?” she asks. “It’s rated R.”

Shit. “Right, yes. Sorry. Seven tickets. And one for Dirty Dancing. We have another friend who’s late.”

“Uh-huh.” 

The attendant, whose bored expression you’ve recognized on your own face after long days in the arcade, hands you your tickets without any questioning. 

“I think we’re in the clear,” Lucas whispers when you enter the concession area. 

You wait for them to buy their snacks. Max persuades Lucas to let her mix M&Ms into their bucket of popcorn. He agrees and shuffles closer so they’re pressed shoulder to shoulder while they share. 

“Okay, last stretch,” Mike says, shoveling a frighteningly large handful of sour worms into his mouth. “We just have to get past the ticket guy.”

Said ticket guy is a kid who can’t be much older than you. You think you might’ve gone to school together, but you’ve made it a point to eviscerate everything about high school from your mind.

“Hey,” you say, trying to act cool. Maybe you’re the one Max should’ve been worried about, instead of Lucas. “Uh, here are our tickets.”

He takes the tickets, then looks behind you.

“Prince of Darkness is only for people seventeen and older,” he says.

“I’m an adult, so I’m with them,” you explain. “I’m, like, their guardian?”

“Yeah, uh—” He hands you your tickets. “No can do. There needs to be an adult for each person under seventeen.”

“Come on,” you cajole. “They’re high schoolers. It’s not like they’re gonna be scarred for life watching some zombies, or whatever.”

He shrugs. “Rules are rules.”

“She’s an adult!” Dustin argues.

“Look, if you’re gonna hold up the line, I’m gonna have to—”

“Yo, Gillespie! That you?”

Dustin turns and lights up. The seven of you part for Steve Harrington and his date, a pretty strawberry blonde you think you had biology with.

“Harrington, man, what’s up!” 

Ticket Prick gets up to slam Steve into a bear hug. You barely resist an eye roll.

“Shit, I haven’t seen you in a year! Where’ve you been all this time? Hey, did you hear about that shit with Munson?”

Steve flinches. It’s a tiny movement, indiscernible to the trained eye. But it’s there all the same.

“Gillespie, c’mon. Don’t bring the party down with that,” Steve says, all sweet charm. 

“Sorry, sorry. Daisy,” he greets the girl attached to Steve’s arm.

“Gil,” she replies with a giggle. “You smell like popcorn butter.”

America’s future taxpayers. Terrifying. 

“Are you gonna let us in or not?” Max interrupts, arms folded. 

You feel a burst of pride.

Gil shoots her a dirty glare and puffs up, ready to fight a fourteen year old. Steve cuts in smoothly.

“Gillespie, listen. I know her.” He points to you. You bristle. “I can personally vouch that she’s just trying to do right by these kids. They wanted to see Prince of Darkness, y’know? Get away from the parents.”

“It’s a sick film,” Gil agrees. “You seen it?”

No, of course Steve hadn’t seen it. He hates horror. 

“Planning on it,” Steve says, the ultimate image of playing it cool. “Look, you remember sneaking into the movies. Fast Times? Ring any bells?”

Max rolls her eyes. You’re inclined to do the same.

Gil laughs dopily, and nudges Steve. “Hell yeah, I do. That was a crazy night, Harrington.”

Steve smiles thinly. “Sure was. So whaddya say? For old times’ sake?”

Gil considers your little troupe. Then he shrugs.

“Why not. Manager’s not here anyway.”

He takes the tickets and tears them to stubs, then gives them back.

“Theater six. On your left. Enjoy.”

The kids stampede into the left theater wing. You hang back with your own ticket. 

“Appreciate it, man,” Steve says, all smiles. “Take care, alright?”

“Hey, you too, Harrington! We gotta catch up!”

Steve and Daisy go in. You expect them to walk right past you, and Daisy does, predictably. But Steve stops.

“I’ll catch up, okay?” he tells her. “Find us some good seats?”

She paws at him a little, then goes, sodas in hand. You stiffen as Steve walks and stops three feet away from you. 

“Hey,” he says. “Sorry about that. Gil’s an asshole.”

“I know. He yawned during my poetry reading sophomore year. And then you guys went to the movies together.”

Steve shrinks. “Your poems were great.”

You’re suddenly exhausted.

“What do you want, Steve?”

“I just… I wanted to see you. Say hi.”

“Okay.” You cross your arms. “Hi.”

“You forgot your movie,” he says. “The other day.”

“I didn’t want it that much.”

“Dustin said you looked everywhere for it.”

“Well, in the end, it didn’t really matter,” you say. “Not enough to stay.”

“Y/N—”

“I think your date’s waiting for you,” you interrupt. “Better get back to her. Wouldn’t want to taint your reputation.”

Steve makes a noise like he’s been wounded. You turn on your heel before you can think better of it. 

“Wait.” He catches your wrist. Steve’s grip is light, like you’re something precious to hold. You wrench your arm away. “Y/N, I want to apologize. I’m sorry.”

“For what?” you ask. “For forgetting me? I didn’t expect you to remember, Steve.”

“I didn’t forget you,” he insists. “I could never forget you. I wasn’t—please, can I just explain?”

“I don’t need your explanations,” you snap. The hurt corrodes your tongue like acid. “I know what happened. We were both there. You left.”

Steve’s eyes are huge and dark. He looks like you just stabbed him in the heart, and that makes you feel worse. You’d thought telling him how much it hurts would put you back together, but all it did was break you more.

So you run. Again. 

You slam through a back exit and rip your ticket into a million pieces. The wind is cold and unforgiving. Your eyes sting. 

You call out sick for two days in a row. You kind of expect to get fired, but then again, people have been leaving Hawkins and if you’re not here to serve the masses their slushies, who will be?

So, after lying in bed not thinking about movies and strawberry blonde girls and how sick you are of this town, you get up and put on your arcade vest.

Now it is two in the afternoon. You’d heard it was supposed to snow today.

Robin eyes the snack counter like it holds the next plague outbreak. You don't blame her; you make it a point to wash up to your elbows after work.

"Slushie?"

She looks at you like she’d forgotten you were there. "What?"

You point a thumb at the machine. "Are you here for a slushie?"

"Oh. No, sorry. Red dye makes me insane in the brain. Steve actually—"

Robin stops, grimaces. So he's told her. Probably everything, if the kids had been telling the truth. 

You're honestly surprised she's here. Unless it’s to, like, swirlie you in the vat of artificial cheese. 

"Are you here to drown me in nacho cheese?" you ask.

Robin's eyes go wide as dinner plates. "What? No!"

"Just checking." You lean against the counter. "What can I do for you, Robin?" 

Robin suddenly looks like she's never interacted with a human being before. You like her a lot. Steve probably does too. 

"I came to drop off your movie." She holds the tape over the counter like it's a pool of lava. 

"But I didn't pay for it." You shove your hand in your jean pocket; you only have a couple dollars on you. "I guess I can get you the money tom—"

"It's on the house. For a fellow Molly fan."

Robin wiggles the tape with two fingers. You take it and wait for a catch. There is none. 

"Thank you," you say. "You didn't have to do that."

"Actually, it wasn't me," she confesses. "I'm just the mailman."

You prepare to hand it back but Robin shakes her head. 

"He's not going to pop out of the slushie machine, okay? He's just trying to make it up to you."

"He doesn't need to make it up to me," you bite, except those aren’t the words you mean. "Why does he even care? We're not in high school anymore."

Robin smiles a sad smile. 

"I know," she says. "We’re not. I know he should've known to fix things earlier. He's received a lot of blows to the head, though, so he's still catching up."

The thought turns your stomach. More? More you weren’t there to protect him from?

"He doesn't owe me anything," you say and wave the tape again. "You can take it back and leave it for somebody else."

"Y/N, I know we don't know each other, like, at all. But it's important to me you know that Steve cares about you, because you’re important to him. And you knew him way before I did, and you probably know a lot of stuff I don't, and that's good because he has a friend like me, but he should also have a friend like you too, Y/N."

"I don't want to be his friend," you mumble. 

"Yeah," Robin says. "I figured. But I don't think that's a confession he should hear secondhand."

You look at her, stunned. She's such a clever girl. You hope she treats Steve well.

"If you two are—"

"We're not," she says, like this is a regular explanation she goes through. "Steve and I are friends. Steve has crashed and burned with every single date since his fall from regency. Steve is the best person I've ever met." 

"Yeah, I’ve heard. You and Dustin are his biggest fans."

Robin snorts. "Trust me, I'm not proud of it."

You shake your head. Your eyes feel hot. 

"This town is so shit," you say. 

"Yeah," Robin agrees. "It really fucking is. But I'm not asking you to give this town a second chance. Just him."

"Why are you trying so much?" you ask. "You don't even know me."

Robin shrugs. "No, but you're the one person Steve used to be friends with who's not an asshole, and I think us non-assholes need to band together."

"I can sometimes be an asshole."

"Me too. So are those little dweebs. How about calling ourselves the Semi-Assholes Club?" 

You laugh. "We'll get jackets."

"With partially drawn butts on the backs," Robin says with a giggle. 

You look at the tape in your hand. 

"Does Steve like John Hughes?" 

"He does. He's a total sap for those. He thinks he's in his own coming-of-age movie because he's delusional."

He sounds perfect. He sounds like the friend you loved. 

"I did want to watch this one," you say. 

"It won't hurt you to," Robin promises. 

You suppose not.

December 1984

You don't believe the whispers. All week, the rumor mill spins tales of Billy Hargrove finally pushing the King off his throne. There's no way he'll show his face, a girl at the adjacent lunch table astutes. I sure as fuck wouldn't.

Steve Harrington is a loser. Steve Harrington got dumped for Jonathan Byers. Steve Harrington may as well be dead, and on and on. 

Every line gets you angrier. A boy who sits behind you in chemistry taps his pencil like he always does. Tap, tap, tap. 

Halfway through class, you snap at him to quit it. He does, but not without a tinge of embarrassment. You’re so angry this year. Angry at your loneliness, angry at the unfairness of said loneliness. You might’ve done this to yourself, and that fact only gets you angrier.

You see Nancy Wheeler in the hallways with Jonathan Byers, and the confirmation of that rumor should make you happy. It doesn't. 

A week later, most of the excitement has died down. Everybody’s moved onto the next big thing, which is to deduce who fucked in Vice Principal White's office. One look at V.P. White, and it had been decided that it can't have been White himself. 

You can't care less. Once upon a time you might’ve laughed about it with a friend, but you don't have any more of those, and high school is bullshit with or without them. So.

Steve walks in twenty five minutes into the period. Mrs. Kaplan gives him a downright beastly glare and demands to know where he had been. 

"I'm sorry," is all he says. "If you give me detention, I understand."

There are a few snickers that rub at an old hurt, one that had flared up whenever somebody dared to make fun of your best friend. It doesn't bother me, he'd said, and you'd known it was a lie. 

It bothers me, you’d replied, and Steve had hugged you tight.

Mrs. Kaplan seems more stunned Steve hadn't swaggered past her like a peacock escaped from the zoo and lets him go sit down without a fight. He takes the only empty desk, two rows across from you. You stare. You can't not. 

Half of his face looks like it was mashed in a garbage disposal. It's purple and a sickly yellow. His eye and lip are still swollen. You stare and stare. You feel queasy. 

Billy had done that. You're so angry. You think you might never get past this grief, this loss of a once permanent fixture in your life. 

No one wished Steve a happy birthday this year, you realize out of nowhere.

You stare and stare and stare until Steve looks right back. You're blindsided by thick guilt, like blinking through a milkshake. And then the familiar curl of anger returns because why the fuck should you feel guilty? You aren't the one who fucked everything up, who mascerated this good thing. Steve did this to himself. Steve deserves to walk the halls alone. It's Steve's fault. 

But when you look at him, at his raw wounds, at his bruised knuckles, you know that he already believes he deserves every punch Billy Hargrove gave him. 

You hate Steve Harrington. But you really wish you'd been there to drive him to the hospital. 

Now (And Forever)

The tape sits buried in your drawer for three days. You don’t know what Family Video’s return policy is, but you hope you’re not racking up late fees. You doubt name dropping Dustin will work again.

It’s Saturday when you decide to watch Pretty in Pink. You remove the video from its sleeve. An envelope falls out.

The front has your name printed in squished, loopy script. You remember January at Steve’s house, a stack of thank-you cards courtesy of his mother awaiting the Harringtons’ sign-off. Steve’s hand would cramp and you’d take over while he made grilled cheese for the both of you. Love, The Harringtons, and there was no love in that house, but you think maybe Steve loved enough to make up for it. 

Hi, the letter begins. I hope you’re good. Robin told me you’re going to Hawkins State.

That’s fucking amazing. I’m so proud of you. Are you still writing poetry? I liked that one you wrote about the birds who shared a branch and kept each other warm. I still have it in my notebook in my room.

I’m sorry for the other night. I’m sorry for every night since freshman year, honestly. I’m kind of a dumbass, but you know that, so it doesn’t really excuse anything. I think I’ve actually lost brain cells since we drifted apart.

You crumple the corner, suddenly hot with anger. Who keeps telling him he’s dumb? You want names.

I didn’t forget you, you know. I got scared and I thought maybe I could ease into it, but then you recognized me and… well. I don’t blame you for running.

Anyway. I’m talking too much about myself, when there’s nothing to say. I’m really sorry about what I did, or, actually, what I didn’t do. Somebody told me I was living on autopilot, and that it wasn’t really living at all. I think it was you. 

I’m not living on autopilot anymore. I woke up. And I realized that you’re the best fucking thing that’s ever happened to me. I love Robin and the kids and this little family that has apparently invayd invaded your life too. Sorry about that. They never leave and they eat all your food. Good luck. 

But I miss you. I always have.

Shit happened these last few years that I’ll tell you about one day, if you want. I’d rather not, though, because you’ve always been the paranoiac (like that one? Robin said it’s an SAT word) of the two of us and I feel like this would just make you even more of one. But I will tell you, if you want to hear it. I want to tell you everything. I want you to tell me everything too. Like we used to.

I want you to tell me how college is going. Who the annoying jerks in your classes are so I can go beat them up (kidding). I want you to stop by to rent movies so I can lend them for free and you’ll yell at me about taking advantage of fre friendships. 

Fuck, I miss you. It’s always been there, bubbling below the surface. I never stopped missing you. I never stopped loving you. I’m sorry I didn’t write this sooner. I know you said writing is how we express things we can’t say. You were right. You always are. Can’t believe I forgot that. 

It’s okay if you don’t want to be friends. I mean, it hurts, but I respect it. I understand. Most days, I can’t believe people can bear to be around me. But then I hear your voice in my head, telling me that most people are shitheads and that I’m golden and. Well, I don’t know if I believe that, but you were right that most of the people I surrounded myself with were shitheads. Except you, of course. And then I went ahead and fucked that up.

I’ve been working on finding the non-shitheads of the world. I think I’m doing pretty well. And I wrote this because I realized that while I will probably end up buried in this fucking town, you’re going to do something incredible. And nothing incredible ever happens in Hawkins, so I figure you’ll be far away when you do it. 

I didn’t want to miss this chance to write things I never said. So here they are. And you can do whatever you want with them. You’ve always been the best of the two of us. I trust you.

You should watch Dirty Dancing. You’ll like it. I did. I’ll see it again if you want. I’ll watch anything with you.

Did you know there’s another Bond movie coming out in the summer? We could watch that one together too. If you wanted more time to decide.

Sincer

Lo

Your friend,

Steve

You don’t bother ejecting the tape. You run all the way to the bus stop, Steve’s letter in hand. 

You have to see him. No other thoughts register except that one. You have to know if Steve wrote these words because he can’t say them or because you won’t listen.

It isn’t too late when you get to Loch Nora. The neighborhood is dead, which is weird. Steve’s house looks frozen in time: his parents’ car isn’t in the driveway. You wonder if they’ve ever come back since you’ve been gone. You wouldn't be surprised if the answer is no.

There’s a tarp over the pool. The gate is locked with a chain. You can’t sneak in through the fence like you used to. Not that you would. You don’t think strangers can sneak through pool gates.

You knock on the door three times. And wait.

Steve’s car is in the driveway, a duller burgundy than when he first got it. There are a few scratches in the paint. No longer a prized possession. Maybe well-loved instead.

The door swings open. 

Steve says your name like a prayer. You swallow and steel your spine. 

“I got your letter,” you say.

“Oh.” He rubs the back of his neck. His hair is damp like he’s just showered. It curls around his ears. Waves of want hit you. 

“I don’t want to be friends,” you continue before he can speak. “I don’t—I can’t do that again.”

Steve’s mouth draws into the saddest frown you’ve ever seen.

“Okay,” he says softly. “Thank you for telling me.”

“No.” You shake your head. “No, that’s not—I don’t mean it like that.”

His brows knit. “What?”

“I…” You pull out the letter and wave it. “Did you mean it? Do you love me?”

“Yes,” Steve whispers. It’s like a shout in the quiet street. “I meant it.”

“Like a friend?”

“If that’s what you want.”

“Will you love me like a friend forever?” you ask. 

“Always.” 

You squeeze your eyes shut.

“I love you as something more,” you blurt, watery. “I have for a long time.”

You hear the door shut. This is it: your heart on the line, all for nothing—

“Then I’ll love you as something more back,” Steve says. “I’ll love you any way you want me to.”

And he holds you the way you’d held him so many times. You inhale and wrap your arms around his neck. You’ve got an iron grip around the letter. Tears slip down your cheeks.

“I missed you,” you confess.

Steve nods against your shoulder.

“Yeah,” he says, and it sounds a little wet. “I missed you too.”

“You were wrong,” you say into his neck.

“Hmm?”

You pull back to look at Steve.

“Incredible things do happen in Hawkins.”

“Oh, yeah?” Steve smiles, cheeks blotchy. “Like what?”

“We found each other again.”

#steve harrington x y/n #steve harrington x you #steve harrington x yn #steve harrington x reader #steve harrington fanfiction #steve harrington fanfic #stranger things x reader #stranger things fanfiction #stranger things x you #stranger things imagine #stranger things fic #steve harrington imagine #steve harrington angst #friends to lovers #strangers to lovers #friends to strangers to lovers

[actiniumwrites]

hiya! if your requests are still open could i request a scenario any of the “immortal” characters (e.x: the archons & adepti) with a mortal!reader who exchanges a part of them to become immortal so that they don’t have to worry about leaving the character? the reader’s gender is up to you!

𝐓𝐎 𝐁𝐄 𝐄𝐓𝐄𝐑𝐍𝐀𝐋 (𝐅𝐎𝐑 𝐘𝐎𝐔𝐑 𝐋𝐎𝐕𝐄)

synopsis: in which you exchange your vision for immortality, determined to live an eternity with your lover

characters: venti, zhongli, scaramouche, and dainsleif x gn!reader

warnings: angst, fluff, hurt/comfort, crying, mentions of death and mortality, fear of death, mentions of morbid conversations, scaramouche might be a little ooc here, purposefully inaccurate depictions of how celestia and visions work

notes: um so this request was sent to me back in november of 2022, so, anon, i am very sorry it took me so long to write this. i loved the idea a lot so i hope you enjoy this. also i’m not 100% sure scaramouche is immortal, but he’s been around for centuries and isn’t human so we’re just going to assume he is 👍

Venti:

The wind was blowing softly as you walked up to the giant tree, Vennessa’s Tree. You could hear the faint sounds of a lyre playing an alluring tune among it. If your boyfriend was anywhere, it was here…or the bar.

An off key note made your eyes snap up from where you were watching the ground, not expecting him to have heard you so easily.

“Hello, my love!” Venti cheered.

“Hi, Venti,” you lovingly spoke softly, moving to sit down next to him. Your head carefully moved to rest upon his shoulder and he continued to play softly, although this time around, it was a different song — one of your favorites.

A smile pulled at the sides of your lips. It was the first one since you’d gotten back from your journey. The very same journey your boyfriend was unaware of.

When he finished playing it, Venti set the lyre down next to him against a tree root. His face turned serious, “Something’s wrong.”

“Is there?” you played dumb, unsure of how to bring up the topic at hand. Venti didn’t fall for it. He never did.

He began to scan over your body for any sign of injuries, afraid something bad happened. When he saw there was nothing there, his hands gently placed themselves on the sides of your cheeks so he could rotate your head. He smiled the whole time, but you knew he was just masking his concern.

“I can feel it,” he said slowly, eyes squinting as he looked far off into the distance, “something’s different.”

You tried to hold it back, but tears sprung to your eyes. There was no hiding it now, “Venti, I…”

“Hey, hey, hey,” he hurriedly wiped your tears as you looked up at him, “it’s okay, I swear! You don’t have to tell me if you don’t want to.”

“No, it’s just,” you sniffled. The tears weren’t from injuries or hurt feelings, but simply because you were overwhelmed. The entirety of your future was now uncertain aside from the fact that you could no longer face death. You had centuries ahead of you, and it wasn’t something you had before, “my vision. I traded it.”

“What? Why would you…” he mumbled, mind racing back and forth. You loved your vision. It was something you had worked so hard for as a child, a representation of your dedication. It wasn’t like you needed money or anything, so why would you get rid of it?

Through your tear filled eyes, you smiled, “You don’t have to worry anymore, Ven. All those years ahead, we can spend them together.”

“You…you’re…?” he breathed out heavily, realization hitting him all at once. A smile broke through his lips, happy tears of his own were beginning to form, “you did that for me?”

You nodded and he threw himself against you, embracing you tightly. In all the years he had been alive, Venti was sure he would be alone forever. But in life and death, you were with him forever.

Zhongli:

Zhongli hadn’t noticed right away.

He was perceptive, yes, but there didn’t seem to be anything amiss with you at first. You often hid things very well. It was one of the only things he didn’t like about you. If something were to go wrong because he wasn’t observant enough with you, Zhongli would feel perpetually guilty.

It wasn’t until weeks after your journey that he had finally realized something had changed.

You seemed normal for the past few weeks. There were a few moments where you were oddly fidgety or anxious, but he chalked it up to the fact that you had just gotten back from a work trip. Perhaps you were tired out from it. Plenty of people came back a little on edge from trips, he had seen it first hand.

When it became continuous, worries began to whisper in his ear. No, he hadn’t thought you cheated or did something bad. Zhongli knew you well enough to know you weren’t that kind of person. If anything, he was worried that something bad had happened to you. That maybe someone hurt you or there was something you couldn’t tell him.

So, he brought it up at dinner one day.

His hand reached across the table, warmly cupping it around yours. His thumb gently traced over the back of it, a soothing action he knew you loved. He inhaled and pursed his lips before bluntly asking, “Did someone hurt you? Because if they did, I want you to know you can tell me and I will take care of it.”

Your face morphed into confusion, awkwardly laughing at his wild assumptions, “I’m sorry, what? Where’d you get that idea?”

Zhongli retracted his hand from yours slowly. His face was now equally as confused as yours, “I apologize, my love. You have been acting rather off since your trip. I thought maybe something bad had happened or someone may have hurt you. Am I incorrect?”

Another awkward laugh fell from your lips before you sighed and averted your eyes to look out the window of the restaurant, “Yes, but nothing bad happened. I’ve just been a little…down about something.”

He furrowed his eyebrows and tilted his head a bit to the side, “If you were feeling upset, you could have come to me. You know I hate to see you like that.”

“I know, I just,” you started hesitantly, “I wasn’t ready to tell you yet.”

“Tell me…what?”

The whirlwind of emotions you had been feeling over the past few weeks began to hit you harshly and you couldn’t stop the tears from forming in your eyes, “I traded my vision, Zhongli.”

He took a few seconds to process, but his hand grabbed yours again. He wasn’t sure what you were talking about, but the fact that you were crying was enough to scare him, “I…I am afraid I do not understand.”

“I made a deal with Celestia…to be come immortal. In exchange for immortality, they took my vision,” you explained slowly, staring down at the table.

Zhongli rose from his seat slowly before walking to your side of the table. He kneeled down beside you, a few tears springing at his own eyes as he looked directly into yours, “Why would you do that?”

“For you,” you breathed out happily, cupping his face as the tears fell from your eyes “I want to be with you forever, Zhongli.”

Zhongli rose a bit from his place on the floor. Cupping your face with his hands, he kissed you softly, yet eagerly. You could feel the love and passion with in it. All the sadness melted away in an instant.

He had witnessed so many of his friends and past lovers parish before him. Victims to time and mortality. But here you were, willing to sacrifice something you cared for so much to spend an eternity with him.

And in that moment, Zhongli realized he’s never loved someone as much as he’s loved you.

Scaramouche:

You were used to Scaramouche pushing you away when things got rough. Not because he was angry with you or tired of you, but because his emotions were too much to handle. The sadness was too much to bear.

The conversation of immortality had come up very often. A worry of his that he just couldn’t seem to shake.

What would happen when you were gone?

How was he supposed to move on?

Love someone else?

If Scaramouche was being honest, he knew there was no way he could love another. Not after you, the one person he’s ever truly loved and the only one he hasn’t lost. You understood and cared for him in a way that no one else ever had or ever could. Despite not having a real heart, his love for you was so strong enough to make him feel like he did.

When you left for some sort of trip, Scaramouche hadn’t been suspicious of anything. You claimed it was for your job — just a week long trip out of Sumeru to take care of some business. It seemed urgent, according to you at least. He understood and didn’t question any part of your story, even if it did have holes in it.

Although he didn’t show it outwardly, the week without you was rather miserable for him. Anytime you were gone, everything seemed to remind him of the centuries that he had been alone. The people he had watched die or turn on him and how weak he felt. It made him wonder, once again, how he could ever live without you.

When you returned days later, it was late at night. The lights to your shared home were turned off and everything was silent. You dropped your things inside, but before you could head to your room, you caught a glimpse of your boyfriend through the window. His hat was cast aside on the grass next to him where he was lying down. The wind was blowing his hair softly across his face as he gazed up at the stars, something you frequently did together.

Coincidentally, it was during those times that the topic of immortality would come up. The stars made Scaramouche sad when he peered up at them. Despite not believing in their genuine existence, he would hate to look up one day and find you among them. Far away from him. Mortality permanently holding you in its grasp.

You silently walked outside to where he was lying down, careful not to disturb him. You laid down next to him, gently taking his hand in yours. His fingers interlocked themselves with yours, but he didn’t bother to turn and look at you, already knowing who it was. When you looked to him, however, his eyes were glistening with small tears, the stars reflecting in them. He looked ethereal, but you hated how sad he looked — eyebrows furrowed, a frown pulling his lips downward.

“I’m not ready for you to leave,” he whispered painfully, voice cracking a bit as his eyes finally met yours.

You send him a fond smile, eyebrows turning upwards, “I’m not leaving anytime soon. You don’t have to worry.”

“But you will,” he started, a hint of anger laced his voice, directed at those who dared to take away the one thing he loved, “You’ll leave eventually. Just like everyone I’ve ever known. It’s only a matter of time.”

You sat up slowly, reaching into the pocket of your pants and grabbing something out. A flash of metal caught Scaramouche’s eye. He sat up instantly, recognizing what the mysterious object was.

It was your vision. The bright shining blue light it normally had was entirely gone, drained of power. Wordlessly, you handed it to him. He grabbed it, but looked up into your eyes with confusion. When he did, he finally noticed the exhaustion and dried tears all over your face.

“What is this?” He angrily inspected the grayed vision in his hands, “What happened to you? If someone hurt you, I swear to you, I’m going to kill them.”

“No!” you quickly exclaimed, interrupting his oncoming burst of anger, “No one hurt me. I did this myself.”

“Start explaining,” he demanded. Although he looked angry, you could see the worry and fear in his eyes.

“I’m tired of these conversations,” you hesitantly started, averting your eyes to a tree in the distance. You could feel your own sad frown pulling at your lips as you fidgeted with the vision he had returned to you. Inhaling, you continued, “If I’m being honest, I’m not okay with leaving you either. It tears me apart to see you like this, Scaramouche. It sounds selfish, but I…I don’t want to think of your life without me. Not when it’s already hurting you this much and I’m not even dead yet.”

You paused to wipe the tears that had unknowingly began to fall from your eyes. Gesturing to the vision, you explained, “The trip I went on wasn’t for work, and I’m sorry for lying to you about it. It was to make an exchange. By trading this with Celestia, I’m no longer mortal.”

Scaramouche’s eyes flickered back and forth between yours and the lifeless vision rested in your hands. A mix of anger, sadness, and relief hit him all at once. Years of memories flashed in his head from all the mistreatment in Inazuma, the Harbingers, and to his newfound life in Sumeru. But most importantly, he saw you and all the ways you’ve loved him ever since you found each other. His voice wobbled a bit, dancing between the lines of neutrality and sadness, “Why would you do that for me?”

You tossed the vision to the side and held his hand again, “My vision may have meant a lot to me, but nothing will ever mean as much to me as you do. I would trade everything I’ve ever owned to be with you forever if that’s how it had to be.”

The two of you laid back down together against the cool grass, staring back up at the stars. This time, however, his arms embraced you tightly. The stars seemed to shine a little more brightly, a little more beautifully. There was no chance for them to take you away from him anymore, and Scaramouche was forever grateful for that.

Dainsleif:

The burden of immortality sat heavily on Dainsleif’s shoulders. It was a curse he bore, but not one he would wish onto anyone else. It was painful, unkind, and often struck those who deserved it the least.

When you had found him, you were not originally aware of the fact that he had been among those who were affected by it. You knew he originated from Khaenri’ah, but you supposed he was like your old friend Kaeya, who was also from there, but was not a bearer of the curse.

Admittedly, it was difficult to be in relationship with Dainsleif at times because of it. He trusted you wholeheartedly, but there was always this lingering sense of doom in his eyes. There were times when he would get close with you, share his past and his deepest desires, but then he would pull away. It was a constant game of back and forth with him.

You were aware it was because he was scared, terrified even. Dainsleif had lived a long life of loss and sadness. He had failed in his duties as the Twilight Sword and, because of that, he was forced to witness the death and destruction of everyone and everything he loved around him. Anyone he had ever loved he had lost, and he couldn’t stand to watch that happen to you too.

You couldn’t bear it equally as much. Dainsleif was the best person to ever have come into your life. Someone you knew could never hurt you. Someone who showed you more love than anyone else ever had. Your love for each other was like no other. The only thing that could truly separate you from him would be death, and he would love you until that day came.

As painfully beautiful as that was, it saddened you to a degree that nothing else could. You did not want to lose him as much as he did not want to lose you. And so, you decided to lessen his punishment. Immortality was supposed to curse him with loneliness and suffering, but that loneliness wouldn’t exist if you were by his side for the rest of time.

You left as soon as possible, vision stored away in your satchel and a notebook in hand. It was your notebook that held your recipes. As a chef, there were all sorts of ingredients across Teyvat that you had to often import or travel to obtain. It was the perfect excuse to leave without him raising suspicion. Because, although Dainlsleif detested the Gods and Celestia, he would never let you do what you were about to do. Not for him, and not for anyone else. Not even for yourself.

It took you about a week to return.

Dainsleif noticed instantly something was different when you returned. It was a little past midnight. He was sitting at the table of your home, window open to his left to let the cool breeze sift through the house. He had been scribbling away at a map when the door walked open, and in walked you.

There were dark circles around your eyes, a conflicting look swirling within them. Part of you looked relieved, while the other part looked saddened. His eyebrows furrowed as you stumbled in through the doorway, whispering a small greeting to him. Quickly, he was by your side and hugging you dearly.

“Are you okay?” he asked worriedly, voice just barely above a whisper. You leaned against him, head tucked gently into his shoulder as you wrapped your arms around his abdomen. Silently, you nodded.

Dainsleif carefully brought you to the couch in the living room, sitting you down gently and setting your belongings on the small table in front of you. The breeze from the window drafted through again, strong enough to make you shiver. In an instant, Dainsleif was up and moving to shut it quickly so you could be warm and comfortable.

“Something’s wrong,” he started, hand moving to cup your face as you gazed into his eyes tiredly, “I know you aren’t just tired. So please, tell me what happened on your trip.”

You crumbled in an instant, unable to lie to his face, “I traded my vision. I’m sorry, I wasn’t actually going to get ingredients.”

Confusion settled even deeper into his blood as he stared at you, unable to comprehend what you were talking about, “Trade your vision for…what? Why would you need to trade your…oh.”

When he realized, you nodded carefully. The silence that followed suit scared you. You often had a hard time reading him, especially now.

His next reaction shocked you, however. Tiny traces of tears sprung to his eyes, threatening to pour over at any second. Your eyebrows furrowed, but before you could say anything, Dainsleif quickly leaned in and kissed you. Your eyes closed and you returned it, feeling the sadness, desperation, and love behind it. When he pulled away, you could see two or three tears had fallen from his eyes.

Gently, you wiped them away and hugged him tightly. He held you tightly in return, and silently, you both laid back against the couch. Exhaustion hit the two of you at once, knocking you out as you slept within each other’s arms. You had been exhausted from your trip and all the emotions you had felt from it. As for Dainsleif, his exhaustion from being cursed had eased up a bit on him. It him all at once, the realization and the lack of loneliness or worries he would have to deal with from now on. There was no more till death due you part, because finally, Dainsleif had you for forever and you had him.

#genshin #genshin impact #genshin impact x reader #genshin x reader #genshin impact fanfiction #venti #zhongli #scaramouche #wanderer #dainsleif #venti x reader #venti x y/n #venti x you #zhongli x reader #zhongli x y/n #zhongli x you #scaramouche x reader #scaramouche x y/n #scaramouche x you #wanderer x reader #wanderer x y/n #wanderer x you #dainsleif x reader #dainsleif x y/n #dainsleif x you

[hyewka]

warnings. hickeys lol, sub!gyu, fleshlight use

i feel like beomgyu lovessss marking like whether he’s the one giving or receiving, he just likes the idea of ‘claiming’. lol he especially likes when you do it to him, get him all prettied up with purple splotches on his collarbones—not too high so he doesnt have to go through a hassle of covering up, but he urges you anyway because beomgyu likes it—loves it. feeling like he belongs to you. “it’s okay, go—h-ha—go higher.” poor baby is such a whiner :(( want to kiss his pouts away, smooth out the tiny furrow of his eyebrows, and calm his already unsteady breathing, but when he lets out a whimper through his pressed lips you focus on giving him what he wants. beomgyus the type to get off from this, it just turns him on so so much. spending time to trail kisses down to his squishy tummy, then laying wet pecks while jerking off his poor dick, already leaking ughh, twitching in your hands. i know he loves it rough too, having you suck sore purple red hues, letting out the godliest, out of the world sounds, hes soo pretty with his soundss ughhh :(

showing them off is also something he would totally do—the next day after getting fucked dumb, clinging onto you a lot more than he’d usually be, his hickeys peeking through his oversized shirt, right in front of your roommates—hes so shameless. making a show of fanning himself with the ends of his shirt to flash what you did to him, he loves being claimed, and he loves showing it off. little brat, you have to spend more time teaching him to behave, punishing him when you’re finally alone, speaking to him like the dumb puppy he is, “you can’t go a day without showing the entire world you’re my whore?”

aww baby is a crier, already feeling his wispy lashes getting wet, sticking together as your finger dance along his tight hole, your puppy gasping at every touch—he was a total slut, fucking the fleshlight as punishment, still going dumb and light headed at the silicone toy. “answer me.”

his lanky body so cute slamming his hips uncontrollably into the toy, previous hickeys trailed all around it—he was so pretty at this exact moment, noticing his staggering pace. “y-yes, i’m your whore—mmf! w-want everyone to know.”

you huff out a laugh through your nose, shaking your head at the boy—he’ll forever be a shameless boy. but he’s yours, your shameless boy. so you watch as he finally spills his load, his hair stick to his forehead, so fucked out, you give in to lean in a kiss on the top of his head whispering to him all the praises he yearns to hear because if its anyone who deserves it, its your puppy boyfriend.

#txt smut #beomgyu smut #sub!idol #🌷. rana thoughts #txt hard hours #beomgyu hard hours

[illyrianbitch]

A Hobby for Two

Pairing: Reader x Cassian

Summary: Cassian surprises you with a small gift. You spend the night teaching him how to properly enjoy it.

Warnings: drug use, just more lil high times, fluff!!!

Word Count: 3k

An installment of the Mirthroot Mini-Series

✹ ✶ 𖧷 ✶✹ 

“There you are, sweetheart.” 

You smiled at your mate's words as he stretched out a hand, beckoning you to him. You closed the door behind you before making your way to where he sat on the edge of the bed, a deep sense of ease settling over you as you situated yourself to stand between his legs. You reached out, hands finding their way to his face, gently tracing his features before lacing your hands through his hair and running them down his scalp.

Cassian's eyes fluttered closed, a happy hum escaping his lips at the tender touch. His arms enveloped you in a tight embrace, wrapping around your waist and pulling you closer to him with a gentle squeeze. He leaned his head forward, smothering himself into your chest. You could practically feel his grin as he let out another content sigh.

“When we die, I want us to be buried like this so I can rest forever as a happy male.”

You let out a snort. “In between my boobs?”

Cassian nodded, the movement causing friction along the material of your shirt. You shook your head in disbelief, a smile on your lips. You tugged yourself out of his grip slightly, watching as he emerged from his self-declared safe space and looked up at you with gentle eyes.  Your heart fluttered.

“You’re dumb.” 

Cassian grinned at that, pulling you forward slightly to place a quick, chaste kiss on your sternum. “Only for you.” 

Your smile widened, a small heat traveling to your cheeks.

“I have a surprise for you,” Cass said after a moment, the grin still plastered on his face.

You frowned slightly, narrowing your eyes. “What kind of surprise?”

There was a glint in his eyes. 

“A good one.”

Your smile changed into a smirk, your mouth falling open slightly as your eyebrows raised. "Oh?" 

“Mhm,” Cassian nodded eagerly. His eyes ran over your face before a look of realization painted his features, his eyes widening slightly. "Wait, no, not that kind," he quickly corrected himself.

Your brows furrowed in confusion. Cassian wasn’t one for surprises— mostly because he could never keep secrets. Not properly, at least. The only surprises of his that worked were ones about sex– and that was because he could reveal the surprises as soon as he’d gotten them. 

“Oh,” you finally replied, “So, not sex?” 

"I mean, if you want, obviously that's on the table." Cassian reassured with a playful smirk, hand traveling from your waist to give your ass a playful squeeze. “That’s always on the table. But that isn't my surprise."

"Okay, so what is it?"

Without missing a beat, Cassian pulled you down to sit on his knee, a hand settling around your back. "Close your eyes," he instructed, his voice soft and inviting.

He was too excited. It was suspicious. 

"Cassian," you stated, your eyes narrowing. 

He frowned slightly, his expression morphing into one of puppy dog eyes as he pleaded, "Pleaseeeee."

Despite your resolve, you let out a soft sigh. "Fine," you conceded, a small smile playing at the corners of your lips. You let your eyes fall closed.

You felt as Cassian leaned to the side– towards the bedside table, you assumed, both of your bodies responding to his movements. A few more sounds followed, the opening and closing of a drawer and Cassian’s barely audible sounds of anticipation, ones that almost mirrored the excited giggles of a school boy. You squeezed your eyes together tighter now, preparing yourself to flee if needed, slightly flinching at every new sound. 

You loved Cassian. You trusted him with your life. But that trust didn’t extend to mundane “surprises”. If it wasn’t a random alleycat brought into your shared home at 2 am, it was him showing up with broken bones because he lost a bet and wanted you to hear the weird sound his arms made when he jumped.

“Cassian, I swear to the Mother if this is another weird bug, so help m-”

Cass chuckled, the sound reverberating through his chest and against your body. 

“Sweetheart, trust me.”

You let out an impatient breath. 

“You’re making it real hard to.”

He let out another small chuckle, his thumb rubbing circles against your skin where his hand held you. 

"Put your hands out.”

You listened, tentatively extending your palms up. Within seconds, you felt something light being placed in your hands, the edges of the object pressing gently against your skin. 

"Okay, open those beautiful eyes.”

With a quick inhale, you complied, slowly parting your eyelids to reveal the surprise he had prepared for you.

“A box?”

Cassian nodded with a smile.

“Yup.”

"I'm assuming my gift isn't the box?" you teased, a playful smile tugging at your lips.

Cassian shook his head, his grin widening. "Not this time.”

He was giddy. Too giddy, you would say. 

“Cass, what's in this box?”

"Open it." 

Your eyes narrowed slightly as you regarded him skeptically.

"Cassian. If I open this and there's a bug, I—" you started, your tone laced with a hint of warning.

“You’ll kill me and dump me in the Sidra, yeah, yeah I know,” Cass interrupted with a wave of his other hand. He gave you a pointed look. “It's not. I promise.”

Reluctantly, you took a deep breath, pushing aside your apprehension as you carefully untied the ribbon and lifted the lid of the box.

The smell hit you immediately as the lid was lifted, the familiar earthy aroma wafting from the box and enveloping you in its comforting embrace. With a soft gasp, you brought the box closer to your face, inhaling deeply, the scent of mirthroot filling your senses.

Your eyes widened in delight as you beheld the small pile of mirthroot nestled inside the box, a smile spreading across your face. Cassian watched you intently as he waited for your reaction.

Without hesitation, you reached out, gently picking up a piece of the mirthroot, looking at him with parted lips.

“You got me some mirthroot?”

He nodded, the hand that was once holding the box now settling on your thigh. 

You smiled, breathing in the smell once more as you placed the small nugget of mirthroot back into the box. Then, you frowned slightly. 

“Why is it in a box,” you thought out loud. Usually mirth was placed in airtight containers, small plastic things that made it easy to carry with no smell. Almost everyone you knew that sold their mirthroot put it in such containers for ease of access and transportation. You’d never seen it in a box before. 

Cassian laughed, mouth dropped open as he stared at you. “When did you become so pretentious about your mirthroot, huh?” His voice was light, a teasing tone that made you want to roll your eyes– lovingly, of course. “Are my boxed drugs not good enough for you, sweetheart?”

You let out an amused scoff. 

“They’re more than enough,” you said as you placed the box in your lap, pulling Cassian into a small kiss. “I just ran out of my stash, too, so this is perfect timing.”

“I know.”

Cassian smiled and you gave his cheek a gentle pat with your hand before pushing yourself off his knee and making your way towards your bookshelves. You usually tucked away your mirthroot in a small wooden box, one delicately painted by Feyre as a Solstice gift and bound by Rhysand’s magic to be odorless. Though, you were sure that the last aspect of the gift was more for himself than it was for you. You quite liked the smell of Mirthroot– something natural and calming. Rhysand said it made your home smell like a skunk's ass. 

You picked the box up gently as Cassian’s voice ran out from behind you.

"I was thinking maybe we could smoke together tonight? If you'd want." 

You turned to face him, hands still holding the two boxes. You stared at him, a frown creasing your brow as you processed his suggestion. "Really?" 

Cassian's expression fell at your hesitation. "Well, not if you don't want to, I just thought—" 

"No, no," you interjected quickly, your frown softening as you started walking back towards him. "I'd love to. I'm just surprised, that's all."

While he was a man of many talents, Cassian wasn’t great when it came to mirthroot. He’d tried multiple times, buying the best quality mirthroot to surprise you or joining the small circles at events you’d host. But he either ended up completely faded– vomiting and unable to move– or wasting half of your stash when smoking because he couldn't figure out how to inhale properly as the mirthroot quickly burned away. Either way, it never worked. So, slowly, it became a solo hobby of yours, a time to cool down and forget about the worries of your daily life, joined by the occasional company of Azriel or Amren. You never minded.

Cassian let out an exasperated sigh, his shoulders slumping slightly as he spoke. "Is this about last time? Because I know it wasn't great but it wasn’t that bad." 

"You vomited all over me," you interrupted, a wry smile playing on your lips as you recalled the less-than-ideal outcome of your previous attempt at getting high together. “And Rhysand. And the couch.” 

Cassian winced at the reminder, but then he nodded earnestly. "Okay, not my finest moment. But,” he said, as he reached out and pulled you closer to him with a hand around your waist, “That was a gummy. Tonight we’re just smoking. It’ll be great.”

His words sparked a glimmer of hope within you. Despite your lingering doubts, you felt a sense of excitement at the idea of sharing the night with your mate, doing one of your favorite hobbies. 

“Y/n,” Cassian said once more, “I got it.”

You grinned and nodded.

“Fuck yeah, you do.”

✹ ✶ 𖧷 ✶✹ 

Cassian, in fact, did not get it.

You'd spent the last few minutes delicately grinding your mirthroot and packing it in the beautiful pipe Azriel had gifted you a few birthdays back. You carefully explained to your mate exactly what he should do, and where he possibly went wrong the times before.  Now, you both sat on your balcony, the gentle night breeze enveloping you in a softness that stood in stark contrast to the ragged sounds Cassian was emitting as he struggled.

"Cass, my love, you have to inhale it.”

"Baby, I am,” he said, breaking apart from the pipe with a heavy cough. 

Your gaze shifted to the pipe in his hand, the mirthroot dwindling with each failed attempt. You couldn't help but feel a twinge of disappointment at the thought of burning through your new stash so quickly.

"No, you're holding it in your mouth and killing your throat.”

Cassian scowled. “This isn’t working and it tastes like ass.”

“Well let's hope not,” you murmured with a slight chuckle as you leaned forward. “Let’s try again. Watch me.”

You took the small pipe from his hands, feeling the weight of it in your own as you prepared to demonstrate. You lit it with a spill, the flame flickering briefly in the night breeze as you took a deep breath, the fragrant smoke filling your lungs.

As you pulled the pipe away from your face, you gestured with your free hand towards your chest, demonstrating the movement required to properly inhale. The action was deliberate and slow as you aimed to guide Cassian through the process. The mirthroot smoke swirled around you, its earthy aroma mingling with the cool night air as you held the breath for a moment, allowing the soothing effects of the herb to wash over you. Then, you exhaled slowly, letting the smoke slowly filter from your parted lips.

"I literally did that," Cassian grumbled.

He was growing frustrated, something that often happened when he failed to enjoy this particular hobby properly. You knew Cassian was easily bothered by things he felt lacking in, skills that he thought he should be good at. You gave him a small gentle smile.

 "C'mon," you encouraged gently, scooting closer to him on the cushioned chair, offering him the pipe. "It's still lit, just take a deep breath," you urged, your voice a soft murmur in the night air.

Reluctantly, Cassian reached for the pipe once more, his fingers wrapping around it with determination. With a resigned sigh, he brought the pipe to his lips, inhaling deeply as he attempted to follow your instructions.

As he did so, you placed a hand on his chest and another on your own, guiding him through the motion with gentle reassurance. Together, you took a deep breath. You watched as Cassian’s eyes fluttered closed and he properly inhaled for the first time that night.

A surge of excitement passed through you, a smile spreading across your face as you watched him. As if registering the moment, Cassian’s eyes lit up with excitement, smoke escaping his mouth as he let out a cough. 

“Sweetheart,” he said with a grin, “Did I do it?”

You nodded, pulling your lip in between your teeth. Cassian’s grin grew and he leaned forward to kiss you, briefly pulling apart to stare at the pipe in his hands as if it was the Cauldron itself.

"That was fun," he said, his grin growing more infectious as he looked at you with newfound enthusiasm. “Again.”

He brought the pipe to his lips once more and you gently lit it. His hand tenderly grabbed yours and held it against his chest as he took a long draw. You felt the deep breath beneath underneath your fingertips. He pulled back with a violent spurt of coughs, a smile still evident on his lips.

"Okay, big boy, don't get too overconfident," you teased as you squeezed his hand playfully.

✹ ✶ 𖧷 ✶✹ 

Half an hour later, the pipe, now cold and empty, lay on the glass table as you and Cassian laid on the couch, his arms wrapped around you as you leaned against his chest. Above you, the stars shone brighter than before, the night air now wrapping around your body in a way that felt alive. Cassian let out a sigh. 

“It feels like someone traced my body and is now running ice along the outline.”

You laughed, your cheeks straining from the smile on your face. A shiver ran through your body, rolling down your skin in waves. You let your head fall back onto Cassian’s chest. “I know exactly what you mean.” 

A moment passed, and then Cass leaned down, placing a kiss on your head.

“The first time I realized I loved you was when you were smoking.”

You let out a breath, maneuvering your body to lean your side against his chest so that you were able to meet his eyes— a deep, rich brown now staring at you through heavy, puffy lids.  Your movements felt languid and fluid, your body suspended in a floating sensation.

“Really?” 

Cassian gave you a small smile and nodded slowly.

“Yeah,” he responded, his voice low. His head lolled to the side slightly and he looked up at the sky as he pulled the memory from his mind. “Up at the cabin, the winter that Mo-”

“Mor got those horrible bangs,” you finished for him, letting out a small laugh at the memory. “It was just you and I that night.”

You didn’t remember much about that night. After all, it was centuries ago and all of you weren’t sober for the majority of the trip. Something about being young and reckless, the feeling of having the world at your feet. But you did remember that it was just you and Cassian. Mostly because you had the biggest crush on him. That version of you would be beyond happy to see herself now— a powerful warrior, mated to Cassian, still getting high under a clear night sky. 

Cassian looked down at you once more.

“I felt like a creep, couldn’t stop starin’ at you,” Cassian said eyes scanned your face, “Good thing you were so gone your eyes were practically closed the whole night.”

Your cheeks were hurting even more now, your smile stretching your muscles to a point of strain. 

“You were so calm, just making all these jokes. It made me realize I’d do anything to see that again, to see you safe and happy, at ease.” 

A warmth filled your chest as a strong tug pulled at you through the bond. You slowly pulled yourself up to give Cassian a kiss, the sensation of his lips against yours sending a wave of electricity through your body, the fuzzy feeling spreading through your face. 

“I still would,” Cassian whispered, “Even if that means heckling some of the street youths for drugs.”

You blinked, pulling back to furrow your brows with an incredulous smile. 

“Is that where you got it from?” You quietly asked, now letting out a sound of shock and amusement, “I knew it being in a box was sketchy!”

Cassian grinned in response, his eyes crinkling at the corners as he glanced to the side and rolled his eyes in mock exasperation. "Hey, did it work or not?"

You shook your head, unable to suppress your smile as another laugh bubbled from your throat.

"Yeah, that's what I thought.”

You leaned your head against his chest, feeling a sense of ease as you were enveloped in the warmth of his embrace. His hands wrapped around you, pulling you into his embrace.

"Thank you for extorting teenagers for me,” you whispered, “I love you.”

You made a mental note to ask Cassian who exactly he tracked down for future reference-- whether to apologize or ask for more, you weren't sure yet. But for now, you closed your eyes and melted into the touch of your mate as the stars watched over you, scattered across the night sky like diamonds on velvet.

✹ ✶ 𖧷 ✶✹ 

An installment of the Mirthroot Mini-Series

a/n: just to let yall know these one-shots r super authentic cause i only write then when i am, too, on mirthroot

i’ve reuploaded this like 3 times because it kept posting weird (or i might’ve just been high idk) so i hope you w enjoyed!!!

#cassian x reader #cassian x you #cassian x y/n #cassian x reader fluff #cassian fluff #cassian #cassian acotar #cassian fanfiction #cassian fanfic #cassian fic #acotar fanfic #acotar #acotar fanfiction #acotar fluff #acotar fandom #a court of thorns and roses #a court of silver flames #mirthrootseries #cassian imagine

[mountainficss]

STAWPPP 🦈 ANON HERE .. THE FIC WAS TOO GOOD😭😭😭 DAMN U KNOW HOW TO WRITE. anyways im back for more cuz omggg I SAW THIS LIKE REALLY WOWOWOW PHOTO OF WONWOO like w/ his hair wet and stuff and GWOWODODOD DAMN (https://pin.it/3hCKDB7wu) just thinking abt how shower sex with wonwoo would be, ugh thanks again 4 answering, I always get so anxious writing these !! ^_^

OH MY??? jeon wonwoo…ugh he’s so pretty…

ALSO I MISSED U 🦈 ANON I’M SO GLAD YOU LIKED THE JOSHUA FIC <333 i’m so sorry i take forever to respond these days. these professors must really want me to stay busy with all this work they’re giving smh. ALSO PLEASE DON’T BE ANXIOUS I LOVE HEARING FROM YOU ALL <333

omg shower sex with wonwoo would be so sweet. after a long day it’s what both of you would need. maybe work is rough on the both of you or you just want to spend some quality time together. either way shower sex is the perfect way to wind down! he’d slide in the shower with you, the water soaking his hair and causing little droplets to run down his pretty face. would pull your body to his chest and press sweet little kisses to your neck from behind, licking and sucking on the skin lovingly <3 he’d stick two fingers inside your heat, fucking you slowly and stretching you out so you can take him better ;( no matter what wonwoo always takes the time to prep you, he never wants it to be painful for you (and i just know he’s got that dumb dick so it’s gonna hurt more if he doesn’t prep—). he’d pull his fingers out, licking them clean as he guides his length to your hole. he’d push in slowly, one hand gripping your hip while the other snakes around to knead your chest. and while you adjust to the stretch he’d be whispering the sweetest praises in your ear about how you look so pretty for him and how his cock was made for only you </3 the steam from the shower and the feeling of wonwoo filling you up so well would make you lightheaded, already feeling cock-drunk despite him barely even fucking you ;( he’d thrust gently at first, checking constantly to make sure he wasn’t hurting you. you’d have to practically beg him to go faster because he’s always so worried about you </3 but then his thrusts would gradually speed up, the sound of skin colliding and the shower running echoing through the bathroom. he’d let out the lewdest whines and whimpers next to your ear, licking up your neck and pressing a small kiss to your jawline. he’d pull your body as close as physically possible and wrap his arms around your torso, your back pressed against his chest so closely you can feel his heart hammering ;( you’d push your hands against the foggy glass to steady yourself, leaving smudged hand prints as wonwoo drills into you. it wouldn’t take you long to finish with how desperately he was fucking you, the sound of wet skin and wonwoo’s sweet moans sending you over the edge. he’d reach a hand down to rub circles on your clit as you cum, feeling you jolt against him. he’d cum inside you as your walls tighten around him, continuing to rub your clit through his orgasm </3 his moans would be so pretty as he fucks his cum deep into your hole. your legs would wobble, feeling weak as you both struggle to catch your breath in the steamy shower. he’d be panting as he pulls out, reaching two fingers down to your hole to fuck his cum back inside ;(

you’d both be so tired but wonwoo would still take the time to clean you up, lathering your hair in shampoo and gently massaging it into your scalp. you’d lean against him, your eyes fluttering closed as you feel wonwoo’s fingers in your hair and listen to the sound of the warm water raining down on the both of you </3333 god i love wonwoo so much

#seventeen smut #thoughts #seventeen #smut #wonwoo smut #seventeen wonwoo #jeon wonwoo #wonwoo #svt smut #svt imagines #wonu #mountainficss

[pizzapottah]

summer vacation

summary: you and george go on vacation together- chaos ensues.

pairing: george weasley x reader (no use of y/n)

word count: 4.8k

warnings: established relationship, swearing, mentions of throwing up, suggestive (?) mostly none, pure fluffity fluff

author's note: based on my own vacations in italy (except that i also live there so it's not as romanticised as some ff make it), english is not my first language so constructive criticism is really appreciated, enjoy!!

"Pshh, baby..."

A grumble leaves your lips as ice cold, damp fingers pinch your waist. You shove George's hand away, stubbornly keeping your eyes shut. You're too relaxed, comfortable and warm to give into his prodding.

Your boyfriend whines loudly, "C'mon, babeeeeee," and you ignore him as well as you can, turning in your sunbed so that your back faces him - and you can imagine the pout he has despite your closed eyes. Two minutes of peace pass, where the only audible sounds are the crashing of the waves and the chatter of the other tourists on vacation - and then something heavy, cold and wet lays on you.

"Merlin!" you screech, trying to push off of yourself your boyfriend. "George, I swear, you're insufferable."

He blows raspberries on your cheek and neck, following the curve of your throat until he reaches your chest. He leaves a soft kiss on the exposed part of one of your breasts and then he settles, a dumb smile on his face. "Oh, I could stay here forever."

You raise an eyebrow - his coolness is appreciated, but you know you won't be going back to your peaceful sleep anytime soon. So you dart a hand through his hair, frizzy from the saltwater, and smile softly when he almost purrs at the contact. "Now, you big baby, is there a reason why you woke me up or did you just want cuddles?"

He suddenly raises his head, with determination in his eyes. "There is a reason, actually," he says it like he’s going to tell you a secret, then lowers his voice. "what or who is 'euros'?"

You look at him for a moment, in complete disbelief, then burst out laughing. He shushes you immediately, putting a hand on your mouth. "Shhh! Babe, I think there’s a plot against us. I gave them five galleons for an ice cream and they refused it! They said they only accept euros and that I shouldn’t try to scam them. What the bloody hell are euros?"

By this time you have tears in your eyes and you are trying so hard to not start cackling. "George," you wheeze. "euros are a currency. You know that muggles don’t accept galleons, right? A galleon is, like… almost six euros."

He pouts again. "Is there a wizard bank near? Where can i get these 'euros'?"

You shake your head and gently motion for him to get off of the sunbed. He does and you get up too, putting on your flip-flops and your sunglasses, wrapping your lilac pareu on your waist and opening the beach bag to get your purse. "I knew this would have happened. C’mon, let’s go."

It’s no surprise that your boyfriend doesn’t know that muggles don’t use galleons - he was born in a family of wizards, and he never shared his father’s interest in muggles. You know just because your mother’s a muggle born and you often went to muggle locations during holidays - much like this. You thank her for suggesting to bring muggle money with you.

You figure that between the foreign accent and language, George doesn't understand pretty much anything of what the locals say. Yesterday, you two stopped at a stand, and he bought two matching seashells necklaces for the both of you - and he gave the vendor three galleons. Now, common vendors wouldn’t accept galleons because they look like fake coins to muggles and certainly not like one of their currencies, but stand workers in italy are no common vendors - especially the ones that work on the beach. Once they smell a deal, they never let you go. Most of them are able to recognize real gold - they would know, as all that they sell is bijouterie and definitely nothing actually valuable apart from the memory it will hold. 

So poor George got robbed of three galleons by a man who barely spoke any english, while you tried to explain to him that he was getting scammed by himself. He didn’t have to pay three galleons, but once he asked the vendor how much were the two necklaces he held up three fingers - probably not even thinking about the fact that he could give him anything but euros. So, despite your protests, George paid for two seashell string necklaces with three coins made out of pure gold - you never thought you’d see the day where the George Weasley voluntarily paid more than he actually had to. 

And now he clings to you - holding onto your waist beads and pareu as he follows you like a lost puppy. You get to the colourful ice cream parlour that sits in the middle of the beach and see the seller widen his eyes behind the counter, grimacing. 

"Oh, non lui di nuovo…"

Well, at least the parlour looks enticing. You nod, "I know, I’m sorry, whatever he did, please excuse him. We’ll take two cones." You turn your head to your boyfriend, "What flavors do you want, honey?"

George’s heart flutters - how can he think about food when you call him honey like that? "Dunno. You choose."

You nod again to the man. "We’ll take one with hazelnut and pistachio and another with chocolate and strawberry."

The salesman, maybe understanding that whatever happened with the Weasley was a misunderstanding, smiles at you. "Of course, signorina." And as he is putting ice cream on the cones, he asks with a thick Italian accent, "He’s your boyfriend, I presume?"

You awkwardly laugh. "Oh, yes. He doesn’t really understand Italian or accents, so he struggles with understanding the locals." The theory is proved to be true as George watches you two talk with furrowed brows. 

The vendor chuckles and passes you two your cones. And as you pay, he says, "You two are really a cute couple. He looks like he’s really in love."

You take the receipt he gives you and tuck a strand of hair behind your ear, smiling sheepishly. "Well, I surely hope so."

Once you’re outside, you give George his chocolate and strawberry ice cream and expect a "Oh, babe, you know me so well,". Instead, he looks at you like he’s disappointed. "You paid," he states.

You raise an eyebrow. You know where this is going to end - it’s the same reason why he insisted so much on paying for the two necklaces. "I did," you murmur as you both go back to the beach and to your designated spot, with two sunbeds and a big umbrella. You sit were not even ten minutes ago you were sleeping, and he sits on the lounge on your right. The fact that he sat so distant from you makes you frown - since you arrived, he refused to stay in his own sunbed, not wanting to leave your side unless it was to take a swim. "You wanna try my flavours?" he looks at you, pouting. "No." 

"Aw, c’mon. You can’t stay mad at me because of, like, five euros. It’s not even a galleon."

"I can and I will."

You knew he was just being petty. So once you finish your ice cream, you get up - leaving the sunglasses and the pareu under the umbrella. "Okay. I’m going for a swim, you’re free to join me when you want."

It’s almost evening, but the sun is nowhere near to be setting. You like it’s feeling on your skin - you feel warm and relaxed. After a hell of a school year and before the start of your last year at hogwarts, it’s just what you need. You ask yourself how you will ever manage next year without George - just the last two months of the semester have been unbearable, barely seeing him at all, except for the few times he came to visit you and you met at Hogsmeade. 

It was during one of his visits in may that he proposed to you about going on a vacation together. "The shop is going really well," he said, excited, referring to the Weasleys’ Wizard Wheezes. You were - and still are, of course - really proud of seeing him so happy about his dream becoming reality. The glint in his eyes when he talks about it is something you're sure you will never get tired of. "And, well, you know… me and Fred always split the profit, yes? I’ve already saved up a good part of it - I thought about going on vacation with you. Like the ones you and your parents go on."

He was referring to the annual summer break vacation you’d go to with your family - every year, without any exceptions, your parents would rent a small cabin in Bournemouth and pass two or three weeks there. Some years other members of the family tagged along - and in the last years, George tagged along - but before you or brothers were born, it was just your parents’ tradition, something that started casually and then continued by habit. 

The last three years - alas, since you’ve been together - you always invited him to the cabin with your family to spend a week or two together, as his mother wouldn’t let him stay any longer.

(You knew Molly was just an excuse. You were pretty sure that it actually was because of Fred, as the twins were never really accustomed to being separated, and the number of the letters he sent always grew day by day.)

Obviously, it was all paid by your parents. They didn’t care, as they had money to spare and were more than happy to please you by bringing George. You knew that often Mrs Weasley tried to pay back your parents, but you also knew that they always strictly refused. 

It was a win-win. Your annoying brothers had someone to play Quidditch with, your parents could relax more without having to entertain three moody teenagers by themselves, and you got to spend time with your favourite person in the whole world. It was only during that conversation at Rosa Lee Teabag that you understood how much those holidays had affected him.

"I wanna take you somewhere nice," he murmured sheepishly - and he did, take you somewhere nice, since now you were on a beach in sardinia - "For once, I want to be the one to take you on vacation. Now I can, so, if you tell me that you’d go with me I’ll start organising - I’ve already got something in mind." and oh, how could you ever deny him?

But surely, you didn’t expect him to be so strict about paying everything.

He paid the cabin, he paid the resort, he paid the bloody shell necklaces - and then he doesn’t even know what a fucking euro is! How is it even possible?

After your swim, you decide to start heading towards the shore - you’re not sure how much time has passed, but from where you stand you see that many tourists are starting to leave. You turn back, still standing in the water - that now reaches your waist - and watch the horizon. The sun isn’t setting, but the sky is starting to grey a little and probably, you and Heorge should retire to your cabin soon to shower before dinner. 

Someone hugs you from behind, leaving a kiss on your shoulder, and you don’t even have to see his mop of red hair to know who it is. "You alright, George?"

You feel him shake his head. "Don't feel t'good."

And that’s where you forget that you should be giving him a hard time - give him a bloody lesson, so that maybe on day he stops being so petty - because he is burning up. Not the "I have a fever" type of burning up, no, it’s the "I have third degrees burns" type of burning up.

You immediately turn and put your hands on is cheeks, noticing that he’s so red he looks like a tomato. "Merlin, George,’ you exclaim. "did you put on sunscreen?"

He whines, putting his hands on your waist, fiddling with your waist beads. "Is sunscreen that tube of cream that smells awful and is sticky?"

"The one I put on you yesterday and this morning? Yes, George, did you put it on?"

"F’course not! smells awful," at this point he’s slurring, melting in your hands. You widen your eyes - Merlin, why does he always behave like a child? "C’mon, George, here- wet your head and try to refresh a bit in the water, I’ll go take our things and the bag- and stay by the shore, so if you drown I can save you-"

Two hours later, you’re in your cabin, pressing the cordless phone you found there in your ear, as you wait for any Weasley to respond. You know that the old muggle phone that they have is probably one of Arthur’s most prized possessions, always kept like it was made out of gold, so you can only hope that someone answers as soon as possible. And they do.

"HELLO!" screams Ginny, "I’M GINNY WEASLEY! WHO ARE YOU? WHY ARE YOU CALLING? HOW DOES THIS THING WORK?"

You grimace, "It’s me, Ginny. You don’t have to-"

She screams your name, "OH, HIIII! HOW’S IT GOING IN ITALY? IS THE PASTA NICE? WHERE’S LOVERBOY? IS HE TREATING YOU WELL?"

Behind her you hear a big commotion - no doubt George’s siblings and parents, asking how the vacation’s going and how you two are finding yourselves. "I- Ginny, you don’t have to scream. Can you pass me Fred?"

There’s a thud, a screaming match ensues and then you hear Fred on the line. "HELLO, HOW CAN I HELP YOU?"

You’re going to get a headache. "First of all, stop screaming," you seethe. "second, your twin’s got a sunstroke. He’s being dramatic and continues to say that he thinks he’s going to die, so I thought that before his last breath he must want to hear his twin’s voice."

On the other line, you hear Molly screech about how he’s always so irresponsible, and about how after Fred talks to him, she wants to have a word with her son too. You shiver - you wouldn’t want to be George right now. 

You go to the bathroom, where said redhead is lying in the tub, still in his swimsuit, in cold water and ice, whining about how he’s never going to the beach again. "Baby, there’s Fred on the phone,"

He raises his head, eyes half closed. "There’s Fred? Where? Where is he?" he rants.

You press the phone to his ear, and he gets it - he’s seen you talking to your grandma and parents with it enough times to know how it works. "Hey, bruv!" he slurs. "How you doing?" he puts his hand on the phone and takes yours in the one that’s empty.

"Heard you’ve got a sunstroke, mate!" his twin exclaims. "That’s lovely! You know the saying, right? The sun kisses the beautiful ones! And if you’re beautiful, that means that me - the more beautiful twin - is simply stunning!"

You're pretty sure that Fred’s making fun of him to try to cheer him up, but your boyfriend’s too beat up to respond with one of his jokes. "Yeah, I’m not sure about that," he mutters. "otherwise, my girlfriend would be in my position. And it doesn’t feel like it kissed me - it feels like he bloody roasted me on the grill."

You smile softly at him, blushing, and brush his hair out of his face. "Besides- did you know that gingers are more prone to getting burns?"

"Of course, mate. Don’t you remember when we visited egypt? We went there as white onions and returned as red peppers, I couldn’t touch my face for weeks!"

George only hums and you notice, by his grip on your hand loosening, that he’s probably falling asleep. So you gently take the phone from his hand and press it to your ear, exiting the bathroom and closing the door behind you. "Hey, Fred."

"How is he, really? Is it bad?"

"I hope not, and I don’t think so. By tomorrow he’s going to be better already, trust me. From now on, I’ll make sure to cover him in sunscreen."

He makes a sound of approval. "He’s lucky to have you, you know. I really hope that he gets better soon, because I know how much this vacation is important to him." he says it like he knows something you don’t, and you frown at his words. If Fred says so, then this bloody holiday must really be something he planned for a big time. "Do you think you know something I should know too, Fred?"

"Well, of course! He's-"

"Hi, dear!"

You assume that Mrs Weasley has finally revolted, ripping the phone from her sons hand to have a hands on conversation with you. "Good evening, Mrs Weasley. Everything alright?"

"Oh, dear, you know you can call me Molly! Yes, yes, everything’s good. How’s my Georgie?"

"Beat up, but don’t worry, he’ll manage. Now he’s in the bathtub and has cold water and ice all over him, I’m sure that by tomorrow he’ll be better.’

She takes a deep breath. "Good. have a good night, sweetheart."

After you hang up, you go check up on your boyfriend. By now, the ice is completely melted by the heat of the Italian summer, and he’s dozing with his head leaning on the wall. 

This time, it’s you who has to wake him. "Hey, George, c’mon. Let’s go to bed, or else you’ll get a sore neck tomorrow. I promise I’ll give you back rubs and a massage if you get up."

He opens an eye. "Back rubs?"

"Yes."

"Like the ones you gave me the night of the Yule Ball?"

"If you want." you have to put lotion on his back anyways.

"Deal." he abruptly sits up, almost falling down from the speed of his movements - he should have calculated that with the dizziness he feels, it’s a miracle that he hasn’t fainted yet. You’re barely able to hold him stable, as he’s burly and stocky from all the Quidditch he played in school and all the boxes that he has to carry around the shop. When you first made him notice, he smiled suggestively and flexed his bicep. "It’s to be able to carry around my princess," he flirted. 

Guess it’s him now that’s the princess - unfortunately, you don’t have even half of his muscles, so he has to do most of the work to get to the bed. Once he finds himself in front of it, he lets himself fall on the mattress - letting out a groan of pain once his chest slams roughly with it. "Why does it hurt so much?" he howls.

You take the cream that the guy in the farmacy suggested for your boyfriend’s sunburns, the same guy who told you to keep him fresh and hydrated. By his pruned fingertips, you think that George has been marinated enough. So you put an ounce of cream in your hands and start rubbing it on his back, while he whines and groans. 

"I'm never getting in the sun again," he mutters. "I’ll become a vampire. Sun’ll become my biggest enemy."

"We both know that tomorrow you’ll be back playing in the water, Ariel," you say, amused. 

"Who the fuck's Ariel?"

You finish putting on the lotion, and then you both go to sleep. You feel deliciously warm, as you spent the whole day in the sun and unlike George tanned discreetly. It’s during the night that you feel his fingers on your back - and you realise that he’s recreating the back rubs that he wanted earlier. You open an eye, still sleepy, and look at his face, that’s lit by the moonlight. 

"Can’t sleep?"

"It’s too uncomfortable. Why does it burn so much?"

"Because you are burnt."

You really want to give him some reassurance, but you don’t know how - even if tomorrow he feels better, the feeling will last for at least another couple of days. And you know that if you hug or kiss him it’s going to be even worse. He asks you a question, but you don’t hear it the first time, as you're already dozing off. "Huh?"

"Remember the Yule Ball?"

You frown with your eyes still closed. "How could I ever forget? You threw up all over m’shoes."

He snickers. "Yeah, but it was also the first time we slept together."

"Yeah, but it was because you got sick and needed cuddles. Right now we are sleeping together without any reason beside the fact that we love each other."

You can hear the smile on his face. "Yeah. We are. That means I did something right, innit?"

You smile too, and he pecks your lips. "You didn’t have to throw up on my shoes to sleep with me- but that’s okay, because we’re still going strong."

You can feel his breath on your cheek. "What do you wanna do? When you finish school, I mean.’

"I'm not sure about it. Probably follow up my mother’s footsteps- becoming a magizoologist and all. After all, the role of the fun parent is reserved to you, isn’t it? ‘M sure the kids will love you and Weasley & Weasley. Children love all those colourful things, don’t they?"

For a moment he doesn’t say anything, and you almost fall back asleep. Then for the second time today, George attacks you by laying completely on you and smothering you with kisses. You squeal, eyes snapping open, "George!"

His skin is so hot that he feels like he’s in the depths of hell, but that can’t be when he’s got you in his arms and accepting his kisses. When he pulls away, you’re both breathless and he’s caressing your waist. "You want to have kids with me?"

With his big brown eyes staring at you, suddenly you feel shy. "I mean, we’ve been together for three years, no? At this point I would leave you if I didn’t want anything with you, since it’s obvious what you would like in the future. Just- I don’t want them now, George, don’t look at me like that."

He laughs, then nuzzles his nose on your cheek, leaving kisses on your jawline. "Oh, baby,’ he says. "I would throw up on your shoes a hundred more times, if it meant that we’d be here today."

Four days later you’re at the lounge bar of the beach. His skin is getting better - it’s starting to peel, yes, but at least he doesn’t look like a lobster anymore. You mentally thank the guy at the pharmacy for recommending that lotion, because it’s doing wonders. 

He’s in a white t-shirt and blue shorts, and you’re in a purple tube top and a jeans mini skirt. That’s one of the reasons why you prefer muggle holidays - one time you went on vacation with the pureblood part of the family and had to wear a skirt that reached your ankles the whole time. Outside it was 30 degrees and you just wanted to rip it in half, and the worst part? You stayed in a resort that was just by the seashore, and nobody dared going for a swim.

(As you’d realise years after that vacation, not all wizards were like your parents. Some were really closed minded, and lived like it was still the 700’. Muggles don’t really care about how you dress and if you want to take a swim with a bikini or a one-piece, it’s your choice. But you know that the simple truth is that wizards don’t like relaxing. You still don’t know why, but you're sure that if your grandmother - your father’s mother - saw you dressed like this, she’d have a heart attack.)

You're both eating pizza and he’s looking at you with the most lovesick gaze ever possible. The stereo of the bar plays Chiquitita by ABBA and you think that if you could, you would stop time right now just to stay here, with George, forever. No more You-Know-Who, stressful school years where studying takes away most of your time and dreading the absence of your boyfriend. Just you and George, eating a pizza on the beach while ABBA is playing and the sun is setting. 

(You think that if second-year you could see you right now, on vacation with the once annoying George Weasley, she’d probably hit you in the head. But it’s okay, she’ll understand soon that he’s not as annoying as she believes him to be.)

George smiles at you and puts his hand in his pocket. "Baby, I got you something," he says. He takes out a little blue velvet box, and smiles anxiously at you. "You know, at first I just wanted to take you on vacation- then I thought, why not make it more memorable?’

You smile at him, raising an eyebrow. "George, you didn’t have to," the thought of him spending his first earnings on you makes you flustered and sad at the same time - can’t he just think of something for himself for once? You don’t want to sound ungrateful, but you really want him to treat himself good - he deserves it, he and his brother worked really hard for that shop. Unfortunately, generosity is a common trait in the Weasleys, and he can’t think of a better way of spending his money than spending it on you. 

You take the box and open it. You stop breathing for a moment - Merlin, you chose a guy that’s definitely too good for you. 

Inside the box, there’s a ring. It’s pretty simple, a gold band with a blue gem and two little white gems on the sides - but it’s so, so much more than a ring to you.

You remember that since you were little, you liked a particular ring your grandma - your mother’s mother - had. It was a simple thing, too, with just a little pearl on it, but for her it was really important. "I promise that for your eighteenth birthday, I will think about gifting it to you," she said once, after your six year old self begged her to give it to you. "You’ll be at the right age to know the actual weight of things. Right now, you only see a shiny thing that you want because you’re a little spoiled - but by then, trust me, you’ll know.’

Your birthday is yet to come, but you already know why that ring is so important to your grandma - your grandpa gifted it to her when your mother was born, so happy with his little family that he wanted to get her something. They didn’t have much, but that didn’t matter. It doesn’t matter the weight of the ring, the size of the gem, the quality of the diamond - it’s the person who gifts it to you that makes it so special. 

You feel tears in the corner of your eyes. "George..."

"It’s not an engagement ring," he says quickly rubbing his neck, taking your teary eyes as a bad sign - do you feel pressured? The other night you said that you did want a future with him, but maybe you think that he’s proposing now.

(He would, but he knows that you’re both too young and not stable enough to marry. When he does propose, he wants you two to be enough financially stable to organise whatever it is the wedding that you dream of.)

"It’s supposed to be a promise ring- but it can be just a simple gift, if you-"

You start crying uncontrollably and he gets up, positioning himself beside you and draping his arms on your shoulders as two italian guys stop talking just to send a nasty glare in his direction - probably thinking, "What did that idiot do to make her cry like that?" - "No, baby, please don’t cry, I-"

"I love it!" you whimper. He feels like a weight was just removed from his shoulders, "You love it?"

You sniffle, taking the ring and putting it on your ring finger. The fact that it fits perfectly makes you want to cry even harder. "I do," you sob, hugging him tight. "Why do you have to know me so well?"

He chuckles, wiping away your tears. "Isn’t it my job to know you better than anyone?"

#george weasley x reader #george weasley imagine #george weasley blurb #george weasley x you #harry potter imagine #harry potter blurb #george weasley fluff #george weasley #george weasley x y/n #pizzapottah's writing #george weasley fic #george weasley fanfic #george weasley fanfiction #fanfiction

[bueckerssturns]

P.S. I still love you - c. sturniolo

pairing: chris x fem ! reader

warnings: cursing, angst. i think that’s it

sorry in advance 😔. slightly short

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dear y/n,

it’s been a year already can you believe that? it feels like we met just yesterday at a random party i was invited to and to think i was going to skip it because i had a meeting the next day, i remember how i accidentally bumped into you causing you to spill your drink on yourself god i felt so bad watching you try to dry it off i just kept apologizing and you said it was fine but that still didn’t stop me from feeling bad.

i remember that after that party we became great friends and how inseparable we were, remember that one time when we sat up on your roof drinking sodas (considering we were both underage and hated drinking) watching the sunset that’s the day i realized that i loved you and wanted to be with you forever.

remember that time we went to the park with cat (absolute insane name for a dog by the way) then somehow his leash came off making us chase him around the whole park but before we caught him you tripped causing me to fall on top of you making us laugh uncontrollably for about five minutes, that was one of my favorite moments together (out of so many of course)

do you remember when we tried giving cat a bath? that motherfucker couldn’t stay in the bathtub for more than two seconds especially since he was a very hyper dog, i remember when he first jumped out you tried running after him but accidentally slipped on the bar of soap making you fall into the water, bubbles in your hair drenched in dirty dog water and yet i still thought you were the most beautiful girl i ever saw.

remember on our two year anniversary i took you to france for a week? gosh i was so nervous the day i gave you the tickets since you “never liked me spending money on you” but at the end you absolutely loved the trip especially that special dinner we went to where i gave you the necklace you’ve been wanting for weeks, i’ll never forget the look on your face when you saw the necklace it made me feel like i fulfilled my purpose as your boyfriend.

one of the memories that brings a big smile to my face is when i remember the day nick and matt met you for the first time they were so excited because i would never shut up about you and how great you were so when they finally got to meet the reason for my happiness it was awesome, having you all getting along was amazing i loved how they accepted you with open arms, the thing i hated was how nick would always steal you from me but i forgave him when i found out you two had a lot in common more than you and me i got a little jealous but opposites attract or whatever they say.

i loved when we would go sit in your car watching the sunset or sunrise while talking about our future, i loved the way your nose would scrunch every time you laughed or smiled, i absolutely adored your voice and how your voice sounded like honey in the early morning when you would wake me up.

i loved how much you helped matt when he had any problems or questions about anything and how you never made him feel dumb for it, that’s one of the many things i loved about you how you helped others and never made them fell stupid for the questions they asked.

i loved the way you would talk to little kids, how caring you were for them and it always made me think of how an amazing mother you would’ve been.

you know matt and nick still talk about you, same with my mom and dad they all miss you even trev misses you he always sits or lays down in your spot on my bed, fuck we all miss you y/n especially me, we had a lot of plans together we had so many ideas for our future! i even bought a stupid ring that i was going to give to you on our fifth year anniversary which is tomorrow but sadly not everything goes according to plan.

but i know that you’re no longer in pain and in a better place, you probably won’t read this stupid letter but thank you for giving me the best years of my life and giving me amazing memories that i will cherish for as long as i live.

sincerely,

ta chérie.

P.S. I still love you.

with that the boy folded up the letter placing it in an envelope tears streaming down his face but what he didn’t know was that the love of his life was there watching him write that letter with tears running down her face as she smiled sadly at him, she never got to tell him everything she wanted or the fact that they had a baby on the way.

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i cried a few times while writing this um it’s mostly based off of a movie i saw a few years ago that randomly hit me (movie: P.S. I Love You) also idk why but the songs i was listening to while writing this were depressing so that didn’t help at all but i hope you enjoyed this and pls don’t hate me 😔

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tags: @sturnioloslurps @sturniolos-blog

#nick sturniolo #nicolas sturniolo #chris sturniolo #christopher sturniolo #matt sturniolo #matthew sturniolo #sturniolo triplets #fanfic #sturniolo fanfic #sturniolo x reader #sturniolo smut

[elvensorceress]

sunday sentences 💕

tagged by @rogerzsteven @loveyouanyway @bekkachaos @exhuastedpigeon @daffi-990 @wikiangela @giddyupbuck @evanbegins @wh0re-behavi0r @hoodie-buck tagging if you are so inclined 💕 @eddiebabygirldiaz @hippolotamus @ronordmann @loveyourownsmiilee @spotsandsocks @monsterrae1 @shortsighted-owl @babytrapperdiaz @messyhairdiaz @stagefoureddiediaz @fiona-fififi @thekristen999 @disasterbuckdiaz @tizniz @spaceprincessem @heartshapedvows @diazsdimples @loserdiaz Unless finale with firefam sillies 💕

Buck meets him in the middle section and beams so brightly at him that Eddie breathes easier. He could forget his own name when Buck looks at him with so much joy and adoration. 

Even just the simple act of sitting next to each other, pressing arms and thighs together while on the way to a call puts the whole world back in alignment. Eddie’s finally back on the job and Buck is finally, finally next to him in all the ways he needs, all the ways that matter. 

It’s suspiciously quiet in the truck as they pull out of the station. There’s radio chatter about the traffic collision they’re on the way to. Nothing that sounds serious. But no one says anything else. 

Because Hen and Chimney are both staring. At him? At them? From their spots on either side of Buck and Eddie. They have wide-eyed, expectant expressions that are kind of tense and intense and a lot like being caught snitching cookies but instead of being scolded, someone is just waiting for a confession or admittance of guilt.

Buck looks back and forth between both of them and chooses to play dumb. “What is with the staring? I know Eddie is really pretty, but both of you have wives.”

Eddie bites his lip and is not going to turn red. His face is not going to get hot and he’s not going to say anything he doesn’t have to. Not. 

“Technically,” Chim says in a drawn out, this-is-also-only-formality kind of way. “She’s not my wife yet. Soon. Very soon. But not yet.” He grins brightly then, almost as brightly as Buck was. “She asked me to marry her though. I’m going to marry her.”

Eddie smiles back at him, and only aches with maybe two-thirds of his whole being. 

He’s never had that. He’s never been so ecstatically happy and excited about being able to get married. He loved Shannon. He did. She’ll always be his first love and the disastrous way it turned out doesn’t erase that. Frank’s voice always reminds him. But the idea of marriage wasn’t exactly happy then. For either of them. 

And knowing how it turned out and how neither of them knew how to be a partner to the other and how he never got to enjoy the little things about sharing his life with someone, not even housework and chores and dinners together. It only makes the aching Eddie now has in his chest that much worse. 

He wants that kind of partnership so much. He wants Buck to be his husband. He wants every minute, every day, whole lifetimes of being with him in that way. He wants to be excited about getting married and being married.

It’s too soon though. 

It’s brand new. They’re working on it. 

They have so much to work on. 

“What about everyone else?” Hen asks with pointed staring face again. “Any more wedding plans? New dates that we’re going on? Changes in relationship status?”

“Anything to share with the rest of the class?” Chim adds then holds up a hand like a stop now forever. “Anything that is not filthy gory hooking up because I think I speak for everyone when I say, we’ve had enough of hearing about Buck’s sex life. More than enough. Too much. Bad time all around.” 

“Okay,” Buck says with his own dismissive hand wave. “I have it way worse. When you talk about your sex life, I have to know that it’s with my sister, and that is just—” he makes a sour, disgusted face and shakes his head. “That’s worse.”

“I don’t talk about my sex life here in this sacred vehicle of life saving,” Chim protests.

Hen gives him a side eye. “You sometimes talk about your sex life here. In this sacred vehicle of life saving.” 

“Fine, one time. It was important. We didn’t know how to do the— never mind. You know what else is important?” Chim looks back to Buck and Eddie still pressed together in the middle of their sacred vehicle of gossip and asking too much information. “Telling your friends, your family, your sacred battlefield brethren. Brethren and sisteren?” He glances at Hen and asks, “What would the word even be? Why is language so annoyingly sexist?”

She gives him a “you know why” look. 

And he shrugs and continues. “We are your sacred colleagues, comrades-in-arms, ride-or-die, hashtag squad goals!”

“How do you even know ‘squad goals’?” Buck asks and Eddie would also like to know the answer to this question. Because he has never heard of it either and that is not something he will admit ever.

“My nephew taught me. He knows everything. You should know.” 

“Your nephew?” Buck gives him a strange look. “Don’t tell me Albert has a secret kid no one knows about.”

Chim makes indignant gestures, likely at the lack of comprehension, because that is definitely his “everyone missed my reference” reaction and he looks to Hen for sympathy.

Oh. Oh, but Eddie gets it. Of course that’s where Chim learned it.

“He’s marrying your sister,” Hen deadpan explains. “Therefore he’s your brother-in-law and any child of yours would be his niece or nephew. Or chosen non-binary equivalent.” 

It takes a second, but then a rosy pink flush colors Buck’s cheeks as he grins his “I love Christopher more than all the things” grin.

It’s way too cute. It’s too special and too sweet, and Eddie can’t stop the smile that touches his own face either. But he can press his leg against Buck’s and dream about holding both him and Chris in the biggest three-person family hug. 

read on to snippet #2

#buddie #seven sentence sunday #buddie wip #jenwyn wip #fic: unless you ask me to #911

[live-laugh-neteyam]

That Funny Feeling ||| neteyam x omatikaya!reader

part two of The Future's Better Than Yesterday | previous | series masterlist | next |

pairings: neteyam x omatikayal!fem!reader *aged up*

summary: after listening to Mo’at insisting on finding a mate for you, you spend time with a boy in the village. Seeing the two of you together fuels Neteyam’s jealousy leading him to a confession.

words: 1.9k

warnings/notes: cringy tooth rotting fluff, use of y/n, probably spelling/grammar errors (sorry), mentions of finding a mate, friends to lovers starts to go somewhere, jealous!neteyam, also made up Na’vi name, honestly not a whole lot going on this chapter

Rolling your eyes you continued the task at hand. Hands busy at work making different healing pastes to replenish the stock. You wanted nothing more than to work in peace but Mo'at wouldn't let up.

"I will you help you my child." She continued. "It's time you find a mate."

"I already told you," letting out a heavy sigh. "I'm not looking for a mate right now."

"You have been of age for some time now. You cannot push it back forever."

You weren't ready. At this rate you could barley take care of yourself, the last thing you wanted to do was throw someone else into the mix. Besides, there was only one person you could see yourself with and that would never happen.

"My visions are getting worse. I don't want to drag someone into this. Until I get them under control I want to remain on my own."

"You are stubborn like your father." The Tsahík huffed.

Your face softened at the mention of your father. Knowing that other people noticed similarities between the two of you made your heart soar.

"Talk some sense into her Kiri." Mo'at continued to press.

"I'm staying out of this." Kiri raised her hands in surrender.

You couldn't help but laugh. "Good choice Kiri."

Despite your words the Tsahík knew that there was one young man you had your eye on. She also knew that he felt the same for you. The two of you thought you were sly but it had been painfully obvious for everyone else.

You would never admit your feelings for Neteyam because you feared rejection. There was no way he could feel the same so you didn't want to ruin the friendship the two of you had.

No one knew why Neteyam still hadn't confessed his feelings. Everyone knew he had been pining over you for years.

He just didn't know how to confess his feelings to you yet. Neteyam being the perfectionist that he is, had to have everything planned out to the last detail. Everything was always calculated and precise.

He would tell you when he had it all figured out.

Neteyam wasn't worried about rushing. He made it obvious to the other young men of the clan that you were off limits. Threatening anyone who so much as looked at you.

Even the Tsahík had noticed this in her grandson. You two were a match from Eywa herself. But Neteyam was too young and dumb to do anything about it. So Mo’at decided you needed a little push.

She had no doubt of your feelings and knew you’d be a perfect future Tsahík. Your connection to The Great Mother was undeniable and your care for the people was genuine. You would complete Neteyam in leading the people.

All that was needed was for one if you to make the first move.

***

Later that day you were in your tent with Kiri. "Your grandmother is driving me to madness." You huffed still irritated from earlier.

"You know that it's only gonna get worse from here right? My grandmother is relentless."

"I've noticed."

The entrance flap of the tent opened revealing a young man. He stood there awkwardly, seemingly unsure of himself.

"Ateyo." Kiri acknowledged him. "Are you injured?"

"No actually." he replied shifting his weight on his feet. "I'm here to see Y/N."

Your ears shot up at the sound of your name. Slowly turning around to face him you took him in. He gave a small smile and waved.

Having a feeling that someone else was up to something you couldn't help but be suspicious.

"What can I help you with Ateyo?" You wore your best fake smile hoping he didn't notice.

"I was wondering if you'd like to go on a walk with me?" He nervously scratched the back of his neck.

Your eyes practically bugged out of your head. Looking over to Kiri she had her hand pressed to her mouth trying to conceal her laughter.

Taking a deep breath you tried to think of something to get you out of this. "Thank you, but I still have work here to do."

"I can hold down the fort." Kiri knowingly smirked at you.

You whipped around giving her a look. Which only fueled her laughter more. You could've smacked the smile right off her.

"Shall we go then?" Ateyo asked holding his arm out for you. It was a sweet gesture but it meant little to you coming from him.

With one last glare at Kiri you followed Ateyo out of your tent. "Have fun you two!" Kiri exclaimed.

"You don't deserve to live." You mouthed to her. She stuck her tongue out in return before hunching over in laughter.

"Did the Tsahík put you up to this?" You winced slightly at your bluntness. But you couldn't help but ask. Ateyo was nice but had never once showed interest in you.

"She had mentioned something to me." He nervously chuckled. "But I would like to spend some time with you."

"I don't know what she told you but I'm not looking for a relationship right now." He nodded listening carefully to you.

"Would a walk as friends be alright then?" Ateyo asked his voice laced with hope.

"I would like that." You smiled.

For the most part you enjoyed Ateyo's company. Still, there was a part of you that wished he was anyone else. You’d rather be racing your Ikrans with Lo'ak or gossiping with Kiri. Hell you'd even play dolls with Tuk.

You most definitely would rather be walking with Neteyam right now.

Despite his words you noticed his lingering glances and occasional subtle flirting. You didn't pay much attention to it, you weren't at all interested so it didn't matter.

***

Neteyam bounded into your tent with a huge smile on his face. He had a habit of obtaining slight injuries that needed your immediate attention. It was the perfect excuse to come see you and one of the only times he got to see you during the day.

"Are you injured brother?" Kiri asked looking him up and down.

Smile fading he looked around the room noticing your absence. "Where is Y/N?"

"Hello brother, it is nice to see you too." Kiri rolled her eyes. "My day has been good thanks for asking." She taunted.

"That's nice Kiri, but where is Y/N?" He was trying to be nice to his sister but his patience was wearing thin.

"She's out. Is there anything I could help you with?" She smirked.

"Out where?"

"Not sure. But if you need help with the scrape on your head I happen to be a very skilled healer. Unless, there was another reason you needed Y/N?" Her tone teasing.

Neteyam felt his face heat up at his sister's words. She knew exactly why he wanted to see you but still chose to torture him. "Never mind Kiri.”

Walking out of the tent he was met with a sight that made his stomach drop. There you were entering the village with a man. His blood ran cold and then started to boil as the man put his hand on your shoulder.

Neteyam wanted nothing more than to rip his hand off.

A million thoughts were running through his head. Neteyam never considered himself to be a jealous person but that funny feeling was creeping into his stomach. The green cloud of envy was blurring his senses.

So distracted in his thoughts he didn’t notice you walk up to him. “Hi Neteyam.” You smiled your sweet smile. Your smile that should be for him and only him.

“We need to talk.” He grabbed your wrist pulling you away from the village. “You don’t have to drag me I can walk myself.” You grumble pulling your arm away.

“Sorry.” Was all he grumbled as you kept walking. You knew exactly where he wanted to go.

He pushed the brush back allowing you to enter the clearing first. Taking a seat at your normal spot you watched as he did the same.

“What’s up with you? You seem grumpy.” You playfully said.

“Who were you with?” Was all he said.

“Ateyo invited me for a walk.” You cautiously said noticing his mood still hadn’t improved.

He scoffed. Ateyo wasn’t even the best hunter in the clan. You could do much better than him.

“So you’re together now?” He couldn’t meet your stare.

A laugh escaped your lips. His ears twitch before he finally turned to look at you. His heart was on the verge of breaking into a million pieces and you were laughing?

“Neteyam where are you coming up with this?” You asked still giggling. You stopped when you noticed his expression stayed hard.

Your face softened as you took him in. He was genuinely upset and you suspected a little jealous. “Your grandmother has been pestering me to find a mate.” You started. His ears perked up listening to you.

“She asked Ateyo to spend time getting to know me. I told him the same thing I told her. I am not interested in a mate right now.”

Neteyam’s angry expression was melting into sadness. He was glad you weren’t courting Ateyo, but your words stung.

Feeling bold you pushed further, “Why would it matter if I was interested in him?”

“Because it just does.” He huffed.

“But why?” Scooting closer to him desperately trying to look in his eyes. “Why did you bring me here Teyem?”

“I just, I just needed to know that you weren’t with him.” He looked up at you panic evident in his face. His eyes a bit watery. It was now or never.

“I want to be yours Y/N.” He spoke softy. “I want you more than anything I’ve ever wanted. It’s always been you.”

You felt like someone knocked the wind out of you. The boy you loved just confessed his feelings to you. You gently pinched your arm just to make sure this was real. It was.

“Neteyam I don’t know what to say.”

“You don’t have to say anything.” He gently cupped your cheek. “Just listen.”

“You are my best friend, my favorite person, and the only girl I’ve ever loved. I want to be with you for the rest of our lives Y/N.”

Tears were freely spilling out of your eyes. This was all you ever wanted but you still couldn’t help but feel unworthy. “Neteyam you need a strong mate to be your Tsahík. I am not her.”

“But you are. You’re the most selfless, loving, and caring person I know. You will guide the people far better than I ever could.”

“What about your parents? They are supposed to choose for you.”

“I do not care.” He was desperately trying to make you understand. “You are the only thing I’ve ever wanted. The one thing I want to choose myself. My whole life has been laid out for me but I will not let them take you from me. If they disapprove, I will run away with you. We could be happy just the two of us.”

“Teyam.” You smiled placing your hand over his on your cheek.

“Say you will be mine Y/N. You already know I am yours.”

Studying his eyes they were so sure not a trace of doubt in them. You could see the gold swirls and the flecks of green, wanting nothing more than to be lost in them forever.

“I see you Y/N.”

#avatar #avatar fanfiction #avatar imagine #avatar the way of water #fanfiction #neteyam #neteyam fanfiction #neteyam imagine #neteyam x na'vi!reader #neteyam x reader #becca writes 🌙

[sanjisluvbot]

Isekai Yandere Strawhats x Black Fem Reader Pt 4

MASTERLIST

Trigger warning: Anxiety, violence, and swearing

The pounding in your head was the first thing you noticed when regaining consciousness. Next was the sounds of cannons and bubbles, then finally the crew standing in front of you.

All of them now held a different aura, they seem to have really found themselves and hardened up into stronger more dangerous people. It was one thing to see them through a screen but to see people like this up close was making alarms go off through your head.

It’s going to be 10 times harder to escape, especially when they figure out just how to snatch you back into their world so easily.

That question is on the tip of your tongue, “ How were they able to get to me?” You remember hiding the paper where you were writing notes somewhere underneath a book shelf.

<>

While Nami worked on her maps you read through everything you’ve written, you had a good feeling about that night. Nothing would be able to stop you no matter who cries or tries to intimidate you. You were going home.

<>

While lost in your thoughts a hand was held out for you to take. Sanji stood in front of you with the brightest smile, though anger and distaste was the only emotion you could muster. His smile dropped when you pushed his hand out of your face and stood up own your own.

Their shameless starring made you want to turn away but you needed to stand your ground, this has affect your life for way too long. It started off as a dream come true, you got to hand out with your favorite characters and sail their version of the seven seas. But suddenly when one of them grabbed your hand to drag you to adventure you noticed the unshakable grip the strawhat crew possessed.

Comforting laughed turned into silent threats and the entire fiasco turned into something sinister and ugly.

“ Y/N! We missed you so much, we thought you were gone forever.” Chopper chimed running into your arms. The anger in your eyes softened a bit due to the absolute innocence of the small reindeer, it couldn’t be helped.

Adorable

“ I missed you too chopper”

“ See I knew you’d be happy to join us again, why would anyone leave their crewmates without getting homesick.” Luffy spoke walking up to you.

You glared at him and placed chopper on the ground before starting an argument you could never come back from.

“ Luffy the only reason I am here right now is because you can’t take NO for an answer!”

“ yup”

“ NO! No more bullshit don’t act dumb right know you know what I’m talking about”

The crew were all starring wide eyed, there hasn’t been a fight between the crew since water seven. After being with Luffy and the others so long you were able to read their facial expressions with ease and right now he was pissed.

The unwavering smile on your captains face was crooked, his eyes were burning you to the ground.

If only looks could kill.

“ Y/N maybe you should just settle down we’re on our way to fish man island and-” Nami reasoned.

“ ENOUGH ! I have had it— with all of you. I’m not going to sit here and explain myself again you are all smart enough to remember what I said two years ago. I am going home, MY HOME.”

“ You are home, I won’t make the mistake of letting you leave us again” Luffy boomed as he towered over you.

“ Fuck you”

A sword was thrust between you and Luffy and you both looked over to the frightened crew and the very angry swordsman. “ You both need to calm down now. There is no use in fighting knowing what we’re about to go through this deep in the ocean.”

Looking back at Luffy you mustered up all you could and spit on his cheek nearing his eye. He turned to you and pushed you to the ground, going underneath the sword and climbing on top of you. You kicked and screamed trying to throw him off you but strength was more than tripled from the last time you were together.

Your hands held up over your head as he peered down at you smile completely gone. A shiver ran down your spine from the deafening silence that eclipsed the Thousand Sunny.

“ Didn’t I tell you to rest when we got on board? I think you need that right now ”

“ Fuck. You. ”

He chuckled and released you, soon as he did you raised your arm and slapped him leaving a hot red mark across his cheek as he stumbled off of you.

“ You think Ace would be proud of you right now ”

You couldn’t breathe. The pressure of a hand on your neck didn’t leave any room for it. You knew he had a strong grip but this was like a weight of iron been cast on your neck. Zoro was looming over you while you scratched up his hand and arm begging him silently to release. When your eyes started rolling back the oxygen flooded through your lungs and you started gasping like a fish out of water.

“ Nami, Robin, take Y/N to the girls quarters for a nap we can wake her when dinner is ready”

You sobbed as the girls picked you up and took you to their room. They laid you down and covered you with a blanket before turning off the light and leaving silently.

You cried for around half an hour, the tears were now dried on your face but you still tried to concentrate on going home. You felt like you were in the Wizard Of Oz when Dorothy was clicking together her Ruby shoes hoping to go home.

It wasn’t working no matter what you did. So you laid there lazily gazing at the ceiling letting your thoughts run free till you fell asleep.

Dinner was as awkward as it could get. The entire crew starred at your every move and you were squished between the captain and his first mate. There was some conversation that you could barley hear and Sanji asked you every other minute if you were enjoying your meal.

You felt like you were viewing life from 3rd person, your vision felt like you were watching a movie and every bite you took you thought your mouth was numb and staticky, like when your foot fell asleep. It was like your brain and body were malfunctioning and you couldn’t do a thing to stop it. When you chewed you felt your teeth grind together to break down every little piece of meat and rice in your mouth. This was a panic attack. You had them before but this was even scarier, nothing made sense and you were now a robot who was programmed to look forward, be wide eyed, and eat every last inch of food on your plate.

When dinner was done everyone was doing their own things. Nami and Robin decided the best thing for right now was a lavender bubble bath with scorching hot water that irritated your skin but also calmed your nerves. The theme of the night was silence so it seemed, that was till Robin decided to speak up.

“ Y/N I know everything is frustrating right now but I know that you understand we really mean no harm.”

“ It’s not about meaning no harm. I have an entire other life outside of this world, I’m missing out on real life.”

“ This is also real life. I studied your paper you poorly hid under the book shelf in Nami’s study. What you’re doing right now is shifting and to my understanding you aren’t erased from your universe when you’re in this one. The rest of your consciousness is living your life as well, you’re like a double agent in a sense.”

The woman had eyes literally everywhere. You were sure no one would find that paper but you should’ve been smarter because now pirates from another dimension can go in an out of your world with no issue.

“ But I don’t want to be a double agent. I don’t want to live two separate lives, I want to live on my own terms just like the rest of you. That’s why you were all created in the first place and why you all joined Luffy’s crew. To be free”

“ Why do I have to be the acception?”

You all stayed in the bath till you pruned and you were finally able to get off edge. It felt like when you first arrived. The conversation strayed from the issue at hand and you were able to gossip and just be yourselves.

Tonight both beds were pushed together and you slept between Robin and Nami, they were warm and comfortable and sleep came with ease.

Though a stray thought lingered in your mind.

Would it really kill you to stay here with them?

-

A/N: Interpret this as you will 🫧🐡🗺️🫶🏽

#one piece #one piece x reader #x black fem reader #yandere one piece #yandere strawhats #luffy angst #x black reader #zoro x black reader #one piece imagine #one piece headcanons #one piece oneshots #one piece strawhats

[libby-for-life]

Back by popular demand. Adam gets sick. Part 2. Just some context before we continue. Adam reveals some...startling news about Lilith's true nature in Eden when he was sick with a fever. Onwards....

Lucifer could only stare at Adam's sleeping and exhausted form. Just two hours ago, Adam gave him startling news of Lilith. A huge part of the devil wanted to believe that Adam was lying. He had to be! Lilith, while not sweet, was not outright cruel to anyone in Eden.

But...Adam was in no state to lie. He had never seen the man cry before. Not since Eden. His fever left him unable to tell convincing lies...

Lucifer tugged at his hair. What was he supposed to believe?! A fever plagued Adam or his wife, estranged, for thousands of years? The choice was obvious. Lilith had never steered him wrong. Adam, while maybe not intentionally, was telling Lucifer lies brought on by his fever.

So why was there a nugget of doubt?

Suddenly, Lucifer got an idea. He hadn't used it in forever, but he was able to see memories with enough prodding. He can solve this and be completely sure about Adam's ramblings.

Breathing deeply, Lucifer's eyes glowed a deep red as he entered Adam's mind.

It was messy and cluttered. Exactly how he expected Adam's memories to be. Lucifer shifted through memories as quickly as he could, making sure to not look too deeply at things. Some memories were...graphic.

Finally, he saw a memory that made him stop. A familiar garden...Lucifer eagerly but carefully extracted the memory and watched through Adam's eyes.

'Adam woke up to a bright light. Everything was so colorful and new! He felt the dirt between his fingers, could smell ripe fruit, and saw tall beings with light coming out of them.'

Lucifer hummed. This was Adam's first memory. The day he was created. Sifting through more of Eden, he watched through Adam's eyes how excited he was to see Lucifer. The emotion was bright and held onto deeply. The former archangel blushed when he realized just how Adam thought of him in Eden.

Was this why Adam was always trying to feed him? Or give him flowers and shiny rocks? Lucifer indulged him but he didn't really see the point in them back then.

Moving forward, he came to Lilith's creation. She was made to be equal with him. Lucifer felt Adam's confusion when Sera told him that he must love, protect, and procreate with Lilith. Lucifer never realized just how firm Sera sounded when giving this order. It left no room for argument. No wonder Adam was so determined to have sex with Lilith. Sera made it sound like Adam would be committing a great sin if he didn't.

' "What is love?" Adam asked, gazing at Sera. The Seraphim looked surprised, as if not expecting questions. "Uh, it's when you want to spend the rest of your life together." Sera finally managed to say. Adam looked at the ground. Oh. He didn't want that with Lilith. He wanted to spend the rest of his life with Lucifer. He must be in love with him!'

Lucifer immediately backed away from that memory as fast as he could with a blushing face. That was far too personal. He felt like he just witnessed something that was trying to stay buried.

He needed to be quick with what he came for. Quickly, he found a memory of Eden with Lilith. They were sitting on a rock as Adam rambled on about how two salamanders raced each other. It was...endearing. Adam seemed so innocent back then. Since he was looking through Adam's eyes, he didn't notice the hand on his neck until Adam was already being choked.

Lucifer gasped as Adam's gaze turned to Lilith. She had an angry look to her. "Do you ever shut up!?" She yelled as she choked Adam.

The First Man tried to pry her hand off, but Lilith had always been strong. "I don't care about some dumb animals! Can't I have any peace from you?!" The memory went blurry and it took a moment for Lucifer to realize it was because Adam was crying.

"I'm sorry!" Adam choked out, his vision growing hazy with the lack of oxygen.

Lilith squeezed one more time before letting go. "Let that be a lesson. No one wants to hear your voice." And then she walked off, leaving him alone. Lucifer. I want Lucifer.

The devil's eyes widened. Adam must've been scared enough to be thinking of him. And why wouldn't he be? He was just choked for apparently talking too much.

He needed to know more.

He watched memory after memory of Lilith hurting Adam for some reason or other. One time, she had threatened to hang him from a tree if he continued trying to be with her. She would slap, kick, and comment terrible things about him. He was...abused. That was the only thing Lucifer could think of. Adam was abused by Lilith and no one seemed to care.

So, when Lucifer found a memory where Adam had found Lilith and him having sex in the garden, Lucifer wasn't surprised that Adam cried silently to himself, the image blurry because of his tears.

Why? Why are they doing that? I thought Lucifer was my friend!

Lucifer winced in guilt. From Adam's perspective, he could see how hurt and betrayed he was. And also the longing. A part of Adam wanted to be Lilith. To have Lucifer caress him and make love to him under the tree.

Lucifer didn't want to see it, but he had come this far and he knew he would be a coward if he didn't. He watched as Adam and his past self fought for the first time.

Lucifer had accused Adam of hurting Lilith, forcing himself on her. Adam was heartbroken at the accusations and glanced at Lilith who had a small smirk. She was playing Lucifer like a fiddle. Adam tried saying that she was lying but Lucifer wouldn't hear it. They left the garden and the devil watched as Adam held the pieces of his broken heart. He watched as bitterness and anger set in. His distrust of women that later turned into misogyny.

He had caused this. Lucifer was the one who made Adam who he was. All because he was too blind to see what was truly going on.

What has he done?

Lucifer came back into himself and he realized that he had been crying as well.

#hazbin hotel #adamsapple #hazbin hotel adam #hazbin hotel lucifer #send asks #lilith #tw abuse #garden of eden

[bokettochild]

Febuwhump Day 5 - Rope Burn

Well this took forever! I actualy finished last ight but then I wasn't sure if I hated it or not, so I had to sleep on it. If you see any typos, no you do not.

Wordcount: 9,300

Rating: Teen

Summary: After Twilight reveals some information about his past, Four tries to use it as a learning opportunity for all of them. It does not go as expected.

-

  “There is no way a military leader was that incompetent.”  

  Wild pauses in his story, much to Wind’s frustration, because he really did want to hear the end of it, which he’s about to say, only the vet’s voice raises, a smirk touching the other’s face as he settles down at the fire with the rest of them after coming back from doing rounds. “Sounds about right to me.”  

  “Too competent,” Warriors challenges, dropping his head to thoroughly tousle his hair, “half my men couldn’t do that.” That’s fair, Wind decides, he remembers the captain’s men as all being somewhat... stupid. 

  The champion stares at them, openly astounded. “How,” he begins, glancing between the vet and captain “are your kingdoms still standing? If the leaders of your defenses are less capable than Master I-killed-myself-on-accident-with-my-own-power Kohga?” 

  “Spoilers!” That’s how the story ends? Wild had only just begun to get to the part where he fought Kohga, but now the ending has been well and truly ruined! Although, it seems they’re getting derailed, so it’s quite likely he won’t even get to hear said ending, considering the champion is too busy looking between captain and veteran for answers. 

  The vet just snorts, unknowing of what he’s missed, and of Wind’s ire, and simply crossing his legs and focusing on the fire. “Where do you think I got the title of veteran? I don’t just sit on my fanny all day, champ.” 

  When the champion’s eyes turn to Warriors, the captain just shakes his head. “I have no clue.” It‘s more sigh than anything, as though the captain’s long since given up hopes for competency among his people. “I’d say Impa, but even she can’t hold the country together by herself, so I’m assuming it’s pure dumb luck.” 

  Across camp, Sky, who’d been the first one to say anything after the champion’s insane story, stares. “You’re saying I brought down the knights of Skyloft just so they could devolve into idiotic half-competent protectors of the country and leave kids to be the ones to save the world?” It’s harsh, but it’s fair as well, although not everyone seems to think so. Wind can’t say anything on the matter though because the closest to military groups they have in his world are pirates, and pirates don’t exactly serve the people. 

  The group as a whole gives each other considering looks, although Legend and Warriors are too busy talking with their eyes- Legend raising a brow and Warriors sighing, rolling his own eyes and earning a smirk in answer- to really care about what everyone else thinks. He thinks Legend asked a question, but how either of them can read each other that well, considering how rarely they even interact, he’s not sure.  

  “The knights in my era are half-competent,” Four assures, “easily manipulated by magic, but they’re just people, so I can’t really blame them. They’re good at their work though.” 

  “Lucky,” Legend scoffs. 

  Time also seems confident in the soldiers of his era, but Twilight adds that his own are cowards and pathetic, so it seems they’re split. Wind, Wild, and Hyrule can’t add anything, due to the lack of military forces in their eras, the soldier is in agreement with their farm boys on the idiocy of his own people, and only their first two and the old man seem to have any faith whatsoever in those set to guard their era. He wonders if maybe there was a decline, after one of them, that led to the army of Hyrule falling, but he doesn’t ask, since it’s unlikely they can say for sure anyway. 

  “How often do you interact with knights though?” Sky challenges, glancing between them. Most haven’t been around them often, but those who’ve got only ill to say all scoff, almost simultaneously, which startles them as much as it does the rest of the group. 

  “I live with them,” the captain starts slowly, glancing between Twilight and Legend with a curious half-smile as though he’s actively trying to figure out what on earth could tie them to the people whom they so frequently scorn. “Spent the last five or six years in the army.” 

  The vet’s a bit more hesitant with his answer, staring between them warily, guarded. “My sister is a knight commander, and our family has ties with the army, so I end up around them a lot more than I’d like, even when they aren’t actively hunting me down.” And Wind wants to stop the conversation there and ask about the fact that Legend apparently has a family and also a reason for the army to be up his ass about something, but he doesn’t get a chance because once more, someone else speaks first. 

  “I grew up on a military base,” Twilight snorts, “trust me, soldiers are as dumb as rocks.” 

  And well, Legend having a family isn’t that crazy in comparison to that. 

  Warriors starts, staring at the rancher, blinking slowly as though still trying to process the words of the other. “I’m sorry- you what?” 

  “I thought you grew up in Ordon?” Wild questions, turning to his mentor, confusion on clear display. 

  Yeah, Wind has a feeling that Wild’s story is well and truly over now, but he supposes it’s worth it. Learning something about their rancher is, he supposes, better than hearing the rest of the story the cook had already spoiled the ending too, especially as the limit of their knowledge about the rancher at this point is that he’s from Ordon, used to work as a ranch hand, and is descended from Time and Malon somehow. The fact that he’s a hero goes without saying, but the ranch hand nearly never shares anything about himself, even though he seems to love talking about his hometown and all the people in it, to the point where some of them feel they know the village and its residents already, despite still not having been there yet. 

  Yet, the rancher is grinning as he leans back, the sprig of hylian rice between his teeth bouncing some as he flashes a wolfish grin at them. “Well, yeah, sort of.” 

  “Sort of?” Time nudges his pup, looking thoroughly unimpressed. Their leader isn’t keen on them being cryptic with him, even though he frequently does so himself. The hypocrite. “Explain.” 

  The rancher chuckles, a nervous little thing, but obediently pulls himself up, resting his weight over his knees as he looks around the fire at all of them, eyes glinting slightly. “Well, y’see, I a’tually grew up in a citadel on the edge of Hyrule.” 

  Warriors jaw drops so fast. “Holy Hylia you’re a military brat.” 

  He can’t help it; he bursts into laughter. Yes, objectively, it’s funny to see Warriors so shocked, but from an outsider's perspective it is so, so much funnier because he’s met Warriors parents and sisters, and he’s seen for himself the proof that the captain is anything but the sissy city boy Twilight likes to accuse him of being. No, the captain was born in Hebra, so far out from cities that he thought Kakariko was huge. Meanwhile, it turns out their “country boy” actually grew up in a military base? Not the country? It turns out Twilight is the military brat and Warriors was the hill-billy? How the turn tables have turned! 

  The rest of the heroes stare at him, confused, but the captain just rolls blue eyes, pinching the tip of his ear to make him shut up. “Ignore him.” 

  Twilight’s dark gaze flicks between them, but apparently, he determines to listen to the captain for once. “Right, so, my dad was a’tually a knight from some family o’ knights or summat, an’ my mom comes from desert folk, so I grew up on the border studyin’ with other knights’ kids to take on our fathers’ duties ’n protect Hyrule one day.” 

  The stares are very, very evident by now, although Legend’s in particular is strangely intense, studying the other with his mouth half open like he’s got a question about the rancher’s words.  

 Broad shoulders shrug, a bit awkward as the rancher grins at them. “My friends growin’ up were dumber’n rocks, an’ every knight I’ve met since is the same, so yeah. Knights ‘re stupid.” 

  “Just a question,” and it seems the vet decided to actually ask whatever’s in his head, “but your knight family, they Hyrulian Knights?” 

  “Yeah?” 

  The vet nods, slowly, lips pursed like he’s sucking on a lemon. “Oh.” 

 “Why?” 

  A shake of pink hair, eyes turning back to the fire. “Same hat is all.” 

  “You too?” 

  “Born and raised, but never followed. Your folks drag you to Snowpeak every winter too?” 

  The rancher shakes his head. “Naw, yeti’s took the place over some time ago. I’d heard it used to be ours though, never thought much of it though. You’ve been?” 

 “Yeah.” 

  “Hold up,” Watrriors interrupts the, frankly unexpected, moment between their rancher and vet to stare between both of them “You’re both military brats, you both hate soldiers, and you both neglected to say anything until freaking now? Also, Hyrulian Knights? You’re talking about the fabled family that sealed back Ganon here, right? Produced the Savior of Labrynna, may or may not be the family of the Hero of Time?” That has their old man looking up, startled, for a moment. It’s only a moment though, because that one wide eye promptly shoots down to Twilight and then, as though on second thought, Legend too, Time’s stare growing ever more startled and shaken, ears twitching like they used too when he was particularly confused or trying to work something out in his head. 

  Legend snorts. “Yes.” 

  “Heads up,” Hyrule chuckles, “Legend is the Hero of Labrynna, so keep your hero worship at a minimum there, Wars.” 

  He thinks that the captain’s face flickers through all five stages of grief for a moment there before the man gets up and simply...walks away, leaving Hyrule rocking in his seat from laughter and Sky looking thoroughly befuddled. “Is he okay?” 

  “Big hero worship,” Wind says, like the snitch he is. He’s no traitor in most senses, but if he can give Warriors a little grief, tease him a bit, he will. He’s fine with sharing some of the things he’d learned under the care of the other. “Apparently he views that guy like I did with Time, wanted to be like him and everything.” 

  Rather than flush or falter, Legend’s lemon-sucking face gets even more pronounced. “Why?” 

  “Because apparently the stories all say you were such an inspiring leader to Labrynna’s army that soldiers and generals emulated both your tactics and speeches for decades after Ganon’s defeat.” It’s amazing to watch the vet’s entire world-view shatter at the words, the man apparently not sure if he should look off towards their captain who’s flopped on his bedroll to contemplate his whole life all over again or down at the ground to contemplate his own. Like the problem child he usually chooses not to be, Wind decides to make it worse. “His Hyrule considers you the greatest knight that ever lived.” 

  Ringed hands bury in pink hair, violet eyes blowing wide as the other hunches over, mind clearly blown. Beside the vet, Twilight gently (and by gently, Wind means very cautiously) claps his brother’s back, his own face a bit tense. 

 Wind is loving watching this. This is better than listening to Wild explain his exploits against the Yiga! Although, he’s also curious. “Did you really grow up in a citadel, Twi?” 

  “Yeah,” a brief nod, dark eyes lingering on their malfunctioning veteran, “I only traveled up Ordon way around your age, when the citadel fell.” 

  Okay, not touching that bomb. “What was it like?” 

  His question earns a grin. “What you’d expect, I s’pose. We were monsters as kids, an’ I s’pose growin’ up military gave us a twisted view of the world. Or, rather, of what was normal any’ays.” 

  “Like how?” Sky, who grew up in a knight’s academy and seems entirely normal by what standards Wind has, asks. 

  “Our main games usually centered around pretendin’ to be knights an’ capturin’ each other or doin’ what we saw our dads doin’ most of the time.” 

  “Like?” Time prods again. 

 Twilight grins, and then falters, looking suddenly alarmed as he glances over the rest of them. “Okay, in hindsight, it was messed up.”   

  Now he really wants to know. “What did you do?”  

  The others all stare; those who aren’t, like Warriors and Legend, currently questioning their existence. Their concern is steadily growing the more Twilight falters and flushes, and Wind is now very much dying to know what sort of shenanigans the rancher used to get up to as a kid. Whatever it was, it can’t be worse than what Time used to put him through during the war, although the idea of their sweet and warm rancher being related to the gremlin he remembers from back then is now not so insane a concept anymore. 

  “Alright,” The (apparently not from Ordon) Ordonian starts at last, and Wind’s not sure if the rancher is aware that he’s moved his hand up to be toying with the vet’s hair now, a nervous sort of stroking, but the vet hasn’t snapped at him for it yet, although maybe that’s because he’s just too lost in his own head to notice, “don’t judge.” 

  “I will reserve my judgement,” Four answers, slowly, “but no promises.” 

  “I grew up on the edge of the desert, an’ most of what our folks did was hunt Gerudo thieves an’ protect traders in an’ outta the desert.” Which makes sense, but he feels like Twilight’s getting at something less than what his parents did for a living. “Nowadays, my hairs a fair bit darker, but it was purdy red back then an’ the other kids kind of figured it meant that when we played, I had to be the evil Gerudo thief, since, y’know, red hair.” 

  Ah, racism in children, now Wind sees it. Not what he was hoping for but he’s not sure what he was expecting. 

  “So,” Twilight clears his throat awkwardly, “when we played, I’d be the bad guy an’ they’d chase me down and ‘capture’ me. In hindsight, it probably was less play an’ more bullyin’ since I wasn’t too well liked at first an’ they weren’t very nice about it.” 

  “But?” Sky asks, maybe too hopefully. 

  “But,” the rancher accepts, because apparently there's something good in this after all, or at least something that makes the man smile, “part of the ‘game’ involved them tryin’ to tie me up. Unfortunately for them, I got mighty good at escapin’ bein’ tied up. I think I must’ve impressed ‘em, because they started makin’ a game of if I could escape various crazy things, an’ sometimes would ask me to help ‘em tie each other up so they could try a hand at it too.” Sharp teeth glint in a fond smile. “Got a reputation for bein’ slippery as a snake and sly as a fox, an’ t’others all started treatin’ me like some sorta genius. We became friends awful fast after.” 

  An awkward silence settles over camp after that, the rancher’s words sinking in and the rest of them processing what was said. Surprisingly, it’s Legend who breaks it, lifting his head from his own hands, apparently having decided to shelf whatever feelings he’s having, but also apparently missing the hand still tangled in his hair. “So, in other words, you earned the respect of your bullies and made their bullying into what sounds like a perfectly normal childhood game.” 

  “What sort of a childhood did you have again?” Sky deadpans. “Didn’t you start adventuring at like, eight?” 

  “And?” The vet returns, looking actually, genuinely confused as to what that has to do with anything. 

  Their chosen hero sighs, shaking his head, apparently already giving up on trying to explain the flaw in the vet’s logic. Honestly, Wind can’t see it, whatever it is, but he’s getting the impression that kids on Skyloft and kids in Hyrule have very, very different experiences.  

- 

  It’s about a week later that someone brings it up again, and surprisingly, it’s Four. 

  They’re sitting around the main room of the smithy’s house, keeping warm after spending the last day out in the middle of a strange mix of fog and rain while hunting monsters. The smithy’s parents have been very welcoming towards their guests, and all of them are savoring the chance to fully relax for the first time in a good while. Well, most of them, Legend and Hyrule don’t seem particularly capable of fully relaxing, so Four’s mother has roped them into helping her in the little garden out back, which seems to be quite to the vet’s tastes and, while foreign to Hyrule, a new experience the traveler doesn't seem keen on passing up. 

  That leaves the rest of them free in the otherwise empty house, left to their own devices while the smithy’s father attends to his work at the castle. Twilight is trying (and failing) to teach Warriors how to play chess, and Wind and Wild are busy playing with Four’s cat, Tongs, when the smithy suddenly walks into the room again after coming downstairs and addresses the rancher. “Do you think you could still escape being tied up?” 

  Time, who was sitting on the couch, looking halfway towards dozing off, suddenly starts awake again and stares, as do the rest of them. 

  “Pardon?” The rancher asks, sighing in defeat as Warriors knocks all the pieces off the chess board with an agitated scowl, signifying his disinterest in continuing to try and learn the “stupid” game. 

  “The game you mentioned,” Four reminds them, crossing the room to perch on the couch arm closest to the rancher, although why he doesn’t just sit on the couch, Wind’s not sure. “You said your friends were really impressed by your ability to escape all the time. Do you think you could still do that?” 

  Twilight shrugs, scooping up the fallen chess pieces to put back in their box, all while Warriors glares at one of the rooks like it’s personally offended him. Wind wasn’t watching close enough to know if it had or not. “I mean, I might, haven’t tried in a while. Why?” 

  The smithy kicks his feet, well off the floor, and frowns, a thoughtful frown like he’s slowly piecing his words together. “I was curious. I’ve never been good at that sort of thing, and I wanted to know if you’d be willing to show us so I could get better.” 

  “And why do you need to get better at escaping being tied up?” The captain interjects, tossing the white rook into the box with a twitch of a frown. 

  “So sure you want to ask that?” Sky snorts, moseying in from the kitchen where Four’s mother had given them free access to make tea and grab food. The face the captain makes at him is scandalized but their chosen hero just slurps his tea, staring over the rim of his cup with raised brows. 

  Wind doesn’t get the joke. He’s not sure if he wants to. 

  Four huffs, slightly red in the cheeks, but presses on. “During my adventure, I made...some mistakes. It resulted in my capture, and I couldn’t exactly escape. I don’t want that to happen again.” It’s a simple enough answer, glazing over anything and everything other than the smithy getting captured, but it still raises questions, although not the ones the smithy was likely trying to avoid. 

  “I thought you were a knight?” Warriors picks up the queen piece, not dropping it yet but not staring at it either, instead focusing his narrowed eyes on their smithy. “All soldiers are trained on what to do in the case of capture, torture, and questioning. Did you not recieve that training?” 

  It’s Twilight’s turn to shift about to stare at the captain. “How would they train that sort of thing?” 

  The captain’s face screws up, “Am I the only one who was taught this? Sky,” the man drops the queen and it goes rolling across the table, “did you or did you not receive-” 

  “No,” the chosen hero doesn’t even wait for the other to finish. “Who on earth would even interrogate us? Skyloftian knights fight monsters, not men.” A long sip follows the words before Sky frowns and turns to look down at the seated soldier. “Do they seriously teach you about torture?” 

  “Yes?” Warriors glances around, but all of them look back at him with confusion. “All common soldiers learn this? You have to in order to progress through the ranks?” 

  “Not ringing a bell,” Time deadpans, staring at the captain with both eyes. 

  Warriors blinks, like the idea that his experience with knighthood not being universal is, in fact, a surprise to him. Wind can’t blame him though, considering based off of what he knows about the other, Warriors had gone through most of his experiences beside dozens of other young men, including his own childhood friends, in order to reach the rank he was at before the war started and he’d been suddenly promoted to captain. 

  “Well,” Four shifts, crossing his legs, “that’s a can of worms to be addressed later, but back to my question: Twilight, can you teach me escape tricks?” 

  “Correction,” Time sits up and turns around, eyes lingering on the captain a moment more before turning on his pup, “Twilight, Warriors, would both of you two be willing to help the rest of us learn escape methods and-” a vague hand motion is made at the soldier, “-whatever sort of training you received that all the rest of the knights here haven’t.” 

  The request seems to make the captain extremely uncomfortable and Wind doesn't miss the way royal blue eyes dart to him, hesitant. “Not the torture part.” 

  “What does that entail?” Sky asks, stare sharp and heavy in ways the man usually never is. 

  “Doesn’t matter,” Warriors is already moving to stand, leaving Twilight to clean up the rest of their game by himself. “I’m not teaching that to kids.” 

 “I am not a child!” It feels like the thousandth time he’s said that, but the look in the captain’s eyes.... yeah, he’ll let the man have this one. He's not sure he wants to see what it is that Warriors is trying to protect them from, especially after he saw everything that happened to the man during the war. 

  - 

  They have to recruit Legend and Hyrule from the garden, which Four does, and in the meantime Wind produces a length of rope for them to use for the exercise. The captain and Twilight are speaking in hushed whispers in the corner when Four returns with the others, and Legend shoots them a curious look as he heads over to where Wind is uncoiling all the rope he had in his bag. 

  “What’s going on?” 

  “Training exercise.” He answers, handing off the rope to the vet, who starts slightly at the contact but then helps him in re-coiling the loose chord.  

  “Why is the captain so tense?” 

  Those words make him look up, staring for a moment. Twilight seems perfectly at ease, but their soldier’s shoulders are tense, jaw set in a way he usually only has during a battle or shortly after one. Even the captain’s hands are still; devoid of their typical tremor, and if that’s not a sign to make him worry, he’s not sure what is. That said, he’s a bit surprised Legend had picked up on that. “I think he’s got bad memories of doing this before, he was pretty firm with Time about what he was and wasn’t willing to teach us.” 

  “Which is?” 

  “What to do if you’re captured or otherwise held against your will,” Time seems to materialize out of nowhere to answer the question, making Legend start slightly and scowl at the man. “Apparently most knights are trained to handle it, and I think you boys could benefit from having that knowledge too.” 

  “Yeah,” Legend snips, “because the shadow is totally gonna tie us to a chair and demand to know all our secrets.” 

  The conversation in the corner breaks off, Warriors running both hands through his hair in an agitated way while Twilight moves over to join the rest of them. “Maybe not, but the shadow ain’t the only threat out there, vet. You know that.” 

  The point is conceded, and the rest of them move in close, following their rancher’s example and watching as the man settles down into a kitchen chair Four had provided for their use. Twilight is not the one to start though, instead \turning his own attention, and thus the others do as well, towards the captain, who’s looking a little less like his normal self. It takes a moment, but Wind finally decides it’s the mess the man’s hair is in, that and the way all his emotions seem to have been wiped away cleanly as he stalks towards where the rancher is sitting.  

 “Twilight has agreed to show you all how to handle this, meanwhile, as I have the training, I will be instructing.” His breathing is off. “In some cases- most actually, the likelihood of being captured and watched by a large group is rare. Most of you don’t look like a major threat and few of you have a rank worth exploiting by your enemies, so your chances of being captured and tortured are low. The chances of questioning is also low, although possible, but considering how well you all keep your own secrets, I don’t think I have to teach you how to keep your mouths shut.” There’s the slightest quirk of a smile at that, and a few smile back. 

  Wind doesn’t. Wind is too busy watching the way too-steady hands reach out to take the rope Legend is still holding. 

  “I don’t need to teach you all how to watch the enemy, or how to be cautious, sneaky, how to move about without being seen- you know these things already.” The rope snaps in what he knows is a purposeful motion by the soldier to unsettle them, and that, if anything, is assurance that Warriors is still in there, and not entirely overwhelmed. Come to think of it, he may even be purposefully throwing them off with his behavior and appearance in order to better convey what it’s like to be held captive by a stranger. The thought actually makes him start and stare, watching closely. The hand thing can’t be faked, so maybe there’s some truth to the terrifying mask the captain is pulling; cold, harsh, calculating and seeking a reaction, but he genuinely hopes most of it really is just put on. “But how do you escape binds of different kinds? How do you quickly turn the tables to take yourself from prisoner to captor?” A twist of the hands and Warriors has made knot dangerously close to a noose. “Let’s try that, shall we?” 

  At his side, Legend tenses, eyes fixed on the captain as the man wraps the noose quickly around one of Twilight’s wrists, the rancher allowing himself to be manipulated as needed for the time being while Warriors twists and pulls and ties the rope this way and that. It's genuinely impressive, the kinds of knots and the effort put into them, far more than most enemies are likely to bother using, but the man still uses them, calling their attention to the different kinds and showing how some give way with a tug and others tighten, informing them that feeling the sort of knot used can be a huge step in escaping it, as it provides clues on how to manipulate your bindings to your own will. 

  Once the captain is finished, Twilight’s wrists and ankles are both quite effectively restrained, the rancher sitting quietly as he allows the rest of them to look over the bonds and Warriors to explain further about why certain knots are used and which ones to be on the lookout for. They are allowed to touch, encouraged even, to see how the rope feels, because- as the captain instructs them, clipped and cold- the likelihood of being granted sight is very low indeed when held captive. 

  “Everyone got all that?” At their nods, Warriors turns to Twilight. “Go nuts.” 

  Watching Twilight escape is very nearly as interesting as watching him get tied up. The rancher doesn’t explain nearly anything at all, focusing instead on getting out, but Warriors fills the blanks, pointing out that shifting, tugging and rolling your limbs can help loosen most bonds, even if it does tend to tighten the knots. “You don’t want to untie each knot, just get out of them. Most escapes need to be quick so as to actually be able to get out, but some circumstances give you time enough to pick over the knots later if you need the rope for something else. Getting a read on your situation at all times is crucial, but you have to rely on your own judgement much of the time in order to know what skills to employ and what to set aside.” 

  By the time the man is done speaking, Twilight is springing up out of the chair and making a grab at the captain. Almost without breathing, Warriors catches the other in a headlock. It's like watching a snake strike, one moment it looks like Twilight has him, and the next, the rancher is doubled over with their captain’s arms around his neck. 

  “Good try.” 

  Twi grins. “Woudla had’ja if I’d had time to slip my feet free.” 

  “Or if I’d been paying less attention,” the captain smiles, but it’s cold, thin, and very much not like their brother. The man’s hands let loose the other, leaving Twilight free to tug loose his feet while he turns back to the rest of them. “A key point is to watch for opening at all times. If your enemy turns their back or drops their guard, they give you a chance to over-power, injure, or kill them.” It’s said too coldly, too clinically, as though Warriors isn’t even talking about a life at all. He's beginning to see why the man spoke about this sort of training like he did; Warriors will be dumbing it down for them, making it something they can process, but with soldiers, commanders who didn’t give a shit about the innocence of their students, he can only imagine how this sort of thing would have been, especially paired with the knowledge that Warriors had also withstood training for torture and interrogation, so the mental strain would have been far worse then. 

  Honestly, maybe it’s not an act. Maybe Warriors is just used to shutting his emotions off when it comes to issues like this. 

  “Any questions?” 

 “Yeah,” it’s a new voice, one he doesn't know yet, which speaks, and it has all the heroes turning about abruptly at the sound of it, except the captain, who seems unsurprised, unlike them, to see Four’s father standing in the doorway “What on earth is going on here?” 

  As though of one mind, they all turn on the smithy. 

  “Training?” 

  “What kind?” The man leans in the door, one brow raised. He doesn’t look upset, maybe bemused, but Wind still feels Legend draw up stiff beside him. 

  “Escape training, sir,” Warriors clips, stepping forwards to address the man, “your son tells me he hasn't had a chance to undergo such training previously.” 

  “No.” It’s a very loaded word, “he hasn’t.” Guarded, wary, maybe even pained. Wind’s not sure, but he supposes maybe Four’s father doesn’t like the idea of his son undergoing whatever this training entails. 

  The captain doesn’t let the other knight’s tone bother him though. “All due respect sir, he requested that the Hero of Twilight and I instruct him, and the rest, in order that he might have some knowledge of what to do in the case of capture, sir.” Oh, Warriors is falling into soldier mode for real now. Shit. 

  Sir Smith notices too, apparently, face softening some as he looks at the younger soldier. “As ease, captain.” 

  Warriors does not relax in the slightest. 

  “Well,” their smithy’s father turns to look over them and the room in general, “I suppose it’s good knowledge to have, and about time you had it. Is there anything I can do to assist?” 

The offer is accepted eagerly by their smithy, and while Warriors still looks somewhat tense, Wind’s quite sure it’s the nature of the training and not the man offering to help with it. No, the captain and this world’s army commander had got on like a housefire last night, and he knows Warriors likes the man. It’s fine, his brother is just uncomfortable and thus falling into familiar patterns and behaviors in order to not betray that. Given time after, and Warriors will slowly drop those and return to his normal self once he’s ready. He’ll be okay. 

 “Escapin’ is like pretty boy said,” Twilight tells them, standing up again now that he’s free, “it’s a matter of gettin’ the ropes loose enough t’slip out. Amateurs tend to go too loose, an’ they keep it quick an’ easy. ‘pparently soldiers cover all the bases though.” The last part is added with a snort and a light nudge at their captain. 

  Time nods, slowly. “Four minutes and seventeen seconds. Quite impressive, pup.” 

  The words have the rancher beaming. 

  “Right,” Warriors plows ahead, ignoring the moment and looking over each of them. “Legend, you said you’d been trained, how about you show the rest how a smaller individual can handle this?”  

  The vet glares at the implications but doesn’t say anything. It’s fact that most of them aren’t nearly as big as Twilight and, considering few of them possess his brute strength either, having a few examples will probably give them more to work off of in the long run. Still, there’s something wary about the way the vet approaches the chair, hands already fisted as he stands in front of it, rather than deliberately sitting as the rancher had done. 

 “Commander,” Warriors turns over to Four’s father (he’s introduced himself as Leon, right?) and motions to the vet. “I believe you have more experience than I.” 

  The elder soldier nods, in one motion both conveying respect and also submitting himself to the command of the younger soldier for the time being, which Wind thinks is very grand of him considering it’s the older man’s own house they’re in, and his son they’re teaching. Then again though, Four had said that his dad is the sort of person who isn’t afraid to let a younger person take the lead if they know what they’re doing. 

  He wonders how Four knows that to be able to say it so confidently. What on earth does he get up to on his own? 

  A question for later, he guesses. Right now, it’s time to pay attention, because even if he hopes to grow as big as Twilight, Legend and he are pretty close in size now, so this will be more useful for him than watching the rancher. 

  Unlike Twilight, Legend doesn’t go easily, making Leon actually have to fight against him in order to continue. That, apparently, it is good though, as Warriors makes it a teaching point, “Generally speaking,” one large hand catches the vet’s dominant one, “you don’t want to let the enemy tie you down in the first place. Honor is all well and good, but when it comes to surviving, no one’s blaming you for fighting dirty.” Something Legend is notorious for. “Watch how the vet handles this, then we’ll discuss after. Sir Leon-” that is the right name then, great! “-will probably approach it differently than I do as well, so be aware that all captors are not the same.” 

  And the smithy’s father definitely doesn’t handle things the way Warriors did, nor does Legend. Where Twilight had let Warriors shift and move him as needed, Legend fights, and where Warriors had given little vocal cues to his “prisoner” and guided his motions carefully, well aware that a wrong move from the rancher at close proximity could do damage, Leon isn’t nearly as careful, instead grabbing, holding, and forcing the vet’s arms behind his back before slinging a rope around them with all the speed of a sailor in a storm. Also, unlike Warriors, Leon doesn’t use a variety of knots, rather keeping it quick and tight. 

  “He’s got thin wrists, so a tighter bind is needed. Some tie it tight enough to harm, but that’s not the goal here. Know it happens though.” The elder soldier tells them, yanking back on the vet who makes to push away. He doesn’t try to force the vet into the chair, instead catching the younger by the collar while his free hand works, hissing, “stay still, you wriggly thing!” 

  Wind’s not sure what exactly about the situation is wrong, but he swears he hears the vet’s breath catch, stutter, and then with a truly terrific show of strength, Legend rips himself free of the man’s hold, kicking back against the knight and propelling himself forwards hard enough that his collar slips free from the man’s hands and the vet can stumble very quickly away. Rather than stage an “attack” though, the hero just spins about, and the whole room freezes. 

  Legend’s stance is too tightly wound, breath too sharp, too harsh, but most obvious is the utter and complete terror shining in blown out violet eyes.  

  “Shit,” Warriors is moving before any of them have a clue what to do, and all aggression, put on though it was, immediately disappears from Leon’s own stance as both knights recognize what Wind himself has as well. He doesn't know how, and he doesn’t know why, but something about the situation has acted as enough to trigger the vet into some sort of panic, and what to them is a training exercise, has become, to his mind, very, very real. 

  “Lad-” Leon’s motion towards the vet earns a start back, one that is made even worse when Four jumps up from where he’d been watching. Wind can’t imagine why the sight of Four, of all of the people in the room, would make Legend stumble so far back that he falls flat on his ass, but it happens. It happens and none of them, especially the smithy, miss it. 

  “Vet?” They’re all worried, and several of them step forwards, reaching out, ready to help, wanting to help, only for both Hyrule and Wild to grab those closest to them and pull them back, something Wind does himself, catching ahold of the smithy. The last thing the vet needs is people crowding in and leaving him no space to breathe. Being surrounded when you’re vulnerable is bad, very bad, and if watching out for Mask and watching the captain taught him anything, it’s that letting an experienced adult handle it and keeping everyone else away is the best course of action. 

  “Is he-” again, Leon’s voice is cut off, this time though by a strangled sound from the vet. 

  “Leon,” and it’s the first time that the soldier’s voice has dropped titles to use anything else, “leave.” 

  “Excuse me?” Four hisses, but that also seems to have a very negative effect, one that has the captain turning, slowly, voice low and soft but cold enough to freeze.  

 “You too, smithy.” 

  Whatever is about to be said in return is cut off by Leon hefting his son over his shoulder and quickly leaving the room, although both he and Four look after the others even as they exit the door. If the situation were any different, Wind thinks he might have laughed at Four’s easy acceptance of being carried like a potato sack by his father, but right now dealing with the vet takes precedence. Luckily for all at hand, even if Warriors isn’t the most qualified to run a training simulation, there’s no one better at handing panic attacks. 

  Despite being downed, Legend’s still managed to shift enough that the ropes Leon was working to be decently tight have been mostly ripped off, although they’ve left a nasty burn across the hero’s skin, one that’s bleeding slightly in the worst areas along the inside of his wrists. No one stops him freeing himself though, and while the performance is definitely over, there’s also a part of all of them that notes how quickly Legend pulls himself free, the sailor even hears Time whisper a soft “two minutes, fourteen seconds” to himself, slightly awed. 

  “Hey,” Warriors’ voice has lost every amount of edge, ice, or stiffness as he settles down in front of their felled brother, now as full of warmth as if he’s back on the field, talking Mask out of his own head after the younger hero’s namesake was put away again. “You with me?” 

  Ragged breathing would indicate that no, Legend is not. He’s very much not, just staring after the door where Four and his father had disappeared, eyes still wide and breath too shallow. 

  The captain reaches out; slow, deliberate motions, easy to track as he reaches for the other hero. “You’re okay, alright? You’re safe. We were training, but it’s over. There is no threat here.” 

  The vet flinches away from the hand, inches from his arm, back slamming against a cabinet and making whatever’s inside clatter loudly, which just sees to further unsettled the shaken hero, who jumps at the sound, whipping his head around to look back, only to flick unseeing eyes back towards the captain. 

  Warriors doesn’t so much as falter, using his lifted hand to slowly push shaggy hair out of where it’d been over his eyes for the last while, messy and just slightly wavy at the ends, like he’s not had time to straighten it in a while. “Hey, it’s me. It’s Warriors, you in there, Link?” 

  Violet eyes flicker across the older man’s face, and this time, when Warriors reaches out, Legend doesn’t start away again, although he watches the hand reaching for him like it’ll produce a knife at any second. Luckily for all, the captain’s not capable of that sort of a trick, and all his hand does is catch one of Legend’s own, not by the wrist as Leon had done, but gently catching fingers in his own and guiding them towards himself, pulling the vet’s hand to settle over his chest, eyes locking with the other’s as he breathes a long, purposeful, breath. 

 Just like Mask used to, Legend mimics the action, although his own breath catches some. It doesn’t stop the captain from trying again though, and slowly, steadily, Legend’s breathing evens out again, clarity returning to his eyes like stars coming out at dusk. 

  “There you are,” their brother breathes, soft and warm and gentle and everything that eases tension and doesn’t spark it further, “keep breathing, you’re okay.” 

 Just because he says it though, doesn't mean it works, because the next breath that escapes their brother sounds more like a strangled sob. 

  Warriors doesn’t so much as falter. “You’re okay. It’s alright,” the hand that lifts is flinched back from, so the captain drops it again, resting it only over the hand still pressed to his own chest. “Keep breathing- there we go. You’re okay, you’re safe.” 

 The dart of dark eyes to the door betrays that Legend doesn’t believe him for a moment, but the vet shudders only a bit, focusing on Warriors again as he pulls away from the cabinets, although not so much to be closer to the captain as to not longer be shrinking away. It’s a sign of some recognition though, which is far better than nothing, and apparently a cue for the soldier to find out what is going on. 

  “That escalated a bit quick, wanna tell me what went wrong?” 

  Legend opens his mouth to answer, but a hitching breath is all that comes out, face twisting and screwing up again enough to warn that a repeat is very much in the cards. 

  Warriors counters quickly. “Was it the ropes? Too tight? Too many people?” He keeps the questions far enough apart to give time for a signal one way or another, but Legend doesn't do much more than force shaking breathes out as his hands reach to tangle in his wild hair. His hat fell off in the scuffle, and currently lies at Time’s feet. “Was Leon too-” 

  The strangled sound at the man’s name cuts Warriors off, and recognition shines in blue eyes. 

  “Leon.” Warriors repeats. 

  Legend’s eyes squeeze closed; face pinched up and shattered. 

  The soldier sighs. “Can I touch you?” 

  “No.” The fact that it’s verbalized is a huge step, and Wind sighs a breath of relief. 

  Warriors, likewise, accepts the boundary, shifting back a bit to grant their vet more space, but not so much as to seem like he’s leaving. “Okay, this is related to Leon. Was it how he handled you?” 

  Nothing. 

  “Was it something one of us said?” 

  A hitch in the vet’s breath, the captain opens his mouth to try again, to press, but Legend answers aloud again this time, voice a wreck. “I- he-” a desperate gasp for air as ringed fingers tug at messy hair, “he’s sounds-”  

  No doubt recognizing Mask’s same struggle with words in the other, Warriors offers his own, soft and quiet, but not yet a whisper. “Did he sound like someone you know?” 

  A nod. A fervent, desperate, nod as violet eyes squeeze shut again. “Sorry...” 

  Hearing the vet apologize has never sounded like such an awful thing. He hates it. 

  The captain clearly does too, but he says nothing to that effect, although the brief flick of his ears and flash of his eyes says it for him. “It’s not your fault. It happens to the best of us.” 

 A scoff. Yeah, Legend’s still in there. 

  Warriors presses on. “No really, it does. It sucks, but it happens.” 

  Dark eyes peek open, fixing on the captain. 

  “Yes, even with me.” The smile there is pained, strained, but real, despite all, and the flick down of the vet’s eyes to still outheld hands prompts the captain to reach out once more. “Would you like me to touch now?”  

 There’s a pause, nothing said, and nothing done, just a stillness as Legend considers the offer. He’s wary about touch even on good days, but usually only when it’s expressly offered or pointed out. When no one says anything, it’s usually met with acceptance as long as it’s not demeaning in any way.  

  As though catching onto a similar train of thought, Warriors changes his offer. “I could lend you my scarf?” 

  A glare. Okay, rude, it’s not that demeaning! Wind likes the scarf! Mask adored the scarf! Enough to throw fits when it wasn't his turn with it! Legend doesn’t have to want it, but there’s no need to make faces like that! It earns a laugh from their captain though, eyes creasing the way they rarely do, and only when he really means it, hand falling to rest gently on the foot of the other. Legend doesn’t shake him off, just stares, then lifts his gaze back up to search the captain’s face again. 

  Warriors meets it, smile fading back to the sad one again. 

 The vet’s gaze drops, arms falling to wrap around himself rather than digging his fingers into his scalp. “He looks-” a breath, harsh and strained, angry as it whishes between clenched teeth, brows drawing low with inward turned frustration, “the- our-” 

  “He looks like someone you know?” At yet another, hesitant, nod, Warriors presses further. “Someone who hurt you? Maybe someone you used to trust?” 

  A sigh. A slow nod before the vet’s head drops to rest against his raised knees. He's still shaking. 

  It’s clear as day that Warriors wants nothing more than to wrap an arm around their brother, pull hm close and assure, but he doesn’t. No, the captain respects the established boundary and doesn’t move any closer, hand just resting on one ankle as he crouches in front of their brother. “I get that.” his voice is softer now, bittersweet, “it sucks, I know. There's someone you trust and then you can’t trust them anymore, and it’s hard, especially when you meet someone who reminds you of them.” 

  Shit. Wind knows he shouldn’t, knows both he and Time know better, but neither can help it as they turn their focus on the captain, wary and watching. That is never a good subject to talk about, but the fact that Warriors is the one broaching it for the first time in forever is frankly shocking. 

  “You too?” Legend’s trying to pass off a tired smile of his own, but it just looks like he’s trying not to cry. 

 The captain nods, lifting his hand (definitely noticing how Legend’s breath catches at the loss of contact) and instead turning to lean his own back against the china cabinet, settling in beside their shaken brother, eyes falling closed in what’s both an open sign of trust, but also an obvious bid to ignore the sharp stares of both his boys on him. “Yeah, me too. It sucks, doesn’t it?” 

 “Sounds just like him,” Legend says, the first full sentence since he’d gone down, and Wind doesn't miss the way the other hero leans a bit closer into the captain’s space, although he doesn't touch him. “Looks like ���im too.” 

  Blue eyes open again, turning past all their curious and worried ones to watch the vet, warm and gentle, that same look that he’d turn on Mask, and Wind doesn't doubt it was turned on him too, when Warriors thought they weren't looking. 

  The vet shudders, steeling himself up again, walls visibly reconstructing before their eyes. “He used to visit, when I was small. I saw him like a grandfather-” and they crumble again, the vet blinking violently, voice small. “He has granddaughters my age.” 

  “What happened?” Wind doesn’t mean to let the words slip, but they do. 

  Legend’s head hits the cabinet doors. “Corrupted.” 

 The captain nods. He knows. Wind knows that he knows. “I’m sorry.” 

  “He sounded just like him.” 

  “I know,” it’s a hysterical sort of laughter that escapes the older hero this time, “trust me, I get it. Every time I hear an Ordon accent, any time someone suggests playing chess,” the captain’s eyes roll upwards, and Wind’s kind of shocked when he realizes there’s tears there. “It sucks. Gods it sucks, but you live with it. I wish I could say it gets better, but I’m not there yet.” 

  Pink hair drops, settling against faintly shaking shoulders. “You were close?” 

Suddenly the moment before them feels too private to witness anymore. Suddenly, being there feels wrong, hearing Legend ask things that everyone at home in Warriors’ world knows better than to speak of. He doesn't know why Warriors answers, maybe out of guilt for pulling the vet into the exercise, maybe out of a need to set an example or assure, maybe out of his own sort of desperation, but an answer is given. 

  “Yeah. Grew up together. He teased me for my accent, I teased him for his. We ran our mothers to worry and our commanders to madness. I hauled his ass out of prison, he watched mine on the field. Heck,” a smile, bittersweet as the captain settles a cheek in rosy hair, “we went through our trailing- kinda like what I was trying to show the others- we did that together too.” A soft scoff, not a sob, but close, “I think he’s the only reason I made it through training t’all. Would’ve gone mad wit’out ‘im.” 

  “What happened?” Twilight dares speak up, and Wind doesn’t miss the way the man’s thick accent is held in check, nearly gone altogether. So, Twi did hear the comment about Ordon. 

  The captain sighs, lifting his head and staring out at the rest of them, eyes fixing on the rancher last of all. “Ganon. As with most things.” 

  Twilight winces. 

  Warriors chuckles. “Some days it’s like he never left though. He’s still on my ass, still callin’ me ‘pretty boy and tryin’ to get a rise outta me.” Wind doesn’t miss how Twilight’s face crumbles when he realizes blue eyes are still fixed on his. The captain doesn’t either, smile twitching alive again. “It’s nice, sometimes, like seeing what he’d be like if nothing happened. Other days, it’s difficult, and it makes it hard to get through the day.” 

  “How do you handle us?” Legend breathes, half scoff and half awe, eyes trying for a smile again and doing much better. It’s not happy, but it’s kind. 

  The captain doesn’t miss it. “Hylia only knows,” he teases, knocking his shoulder against the one still pressed against it, and then, more serious, “I draw back if I need. Sure, Twilight reminds me of him a lot, some days, but then he does something Gassun would never, or does something so stupid only a hero would do it, and then I remember again and I’m fine.” 

 “Really?” The Stare of Disappointment was definitely something Time learned from the captain, so Wind can’t fathom why the man tries to use it on their brother, but here he is, doing just that. “You expect us to believe that?” 

  “Have faith in me,” Warriors snorts, “I don’t wander around in my own head all day. If I did, you’d’ve burned the world down already!” 

  It sort of ends like that. Warriors redirecting their attention and Legend rolling his eyes at their antics, slowly uncurling again until Four’s mother comes back inside and requests access to her kitchen again. They scatter after, Warriors throwing an arm around the vet and guiding him upstairs so they can have a talk, Time going off in search of the smithy and his father, Wild joining in dinner preparations, and the rest of them cleaning up their mess before leaving. 

 Hyrule still has questions for Twilight about escaping, but Sky heads upstairs after the others, worry creasing his brow in ways it rarely does, but Wind stays behind, scooping up Tongs to keep him company in the wake of his brothers all leaving. Even so, he makes a note to ask the others how they are later. 

  Of course, later, Twilight also asks about what Warriors said, and the captain, to the shock of both his charges, explains himself. Thinking back, it’s no wonder Warriors sees a resemblance; Twilight may have spent his last few years in Ordon, but the military haircut is still very present, a mirror of the captain's own and quite similar to said captain's old friend. Granted, Twilight is darker, hair redder and eyes bright blue, but the accent is the same, rough manner so similar, and the nicknames definitely finish the picture. He doesn’t like the implications of that, not for either of the two, but Twilight walks out of the conversation only looking someone thoughtful, rather than upset, and Warriors seems normal enough, although still quiet for the rest of their time in the smithy’s Hyrule. 

 Collectively, they agree to abandon the escape training. If they want tips, they’ll go to Twilight, but the emotional toll taken on both the vet and the captain isn’t worth it to any of them. Not a second time. Not when they all regret the first one. 

#linked universe #linkeduniverse #febuwhump #febuwhump2024 #lu wind #lu legend #lu warriors #lu twilight #lu wild #lu four #lu sky #lu hyrule #lu time #four's dad #good golly it went on forever! #the boys are't letting me keep ANYTHING brief this month #vengeance for not finishing previous months I guess

[trashymouthgremlin]

I was listening to Are You Bored Yet - Wallows (ft. Clairo)

Steve snapped back to reality when he heard Eddie’s voice.

“You okay there, Stevie?” he asked in a whisper. Steve could feel the breath on his cheek.

They were lying side-by-side in the dark on his bed, shoulders pressed against each other. It was nice. There was always the risk of one of Steve’s parents walking in and finding them and assuming… Well, reacting badly regardless of what they assumed, whether it was true or not. Still, it’s not like they would walk in. It was more likely that the boys would hear distant arguing at the other end of the house. 

But not tonight. Tonight they could lie down next to each other and it was quiet. Steve wished he could keep this. Just keep this small thing. He didn’t care if it never went further, because this was enough wasn’t it? If Steve could stay in this moment forever and pretend time would just… Stop moving. No worrying about tomorrow. No anxiety about what fresh horrors could suddenly appear in their lives. No people slipping away from him. Just… This. But how long would this be enough for Eddie?

Steve jumped as fingers snapped in front of his face.

“You still in there?” Eddie joked, but there was an edge of concern that made his voice waver a little. 

Steve huffed a brief laugh, “yeah, sorry.”

“What’s going on?” Eddie asked. He turned his body towards Steve, propping his head up on one hand. Steve mirrored the movement.

“Are you bored yet?” 

His voice had barely even been a whisper, but Steve forced himself to hold it together. The silence and tension that filled the air was not helping. Steve couldn’t meet Eddie’s eyes, not even in the dark. He guessed if this was going to end, he’d rather hear it now so that he didn’t sink his whole heart into this. He couldn’t let himself fall in love again if it wasn’t going to be enough. If it was over now then Steve could stop lying that he saw Eddie as nothing other than a friend. 

“What do you mean?” Eddie asked. 

“You know,” Steve waved around vaguely, “just lying here in the dark… Are you bored of it yet?”

He could feel Eddie’s eyes on him, studying him, trying to puzzle him out, and Steve hesitantly let his eyes wander up to meet them. Eddie looked at him, his brows furrowed, and his mouth pulled up at one side. 

“You mean bored of you,” Eddie said, not a question. 

Steve felt himself gulp, fighting back the fear, the vulnerability of Eddie seeing through him very easily. He nodded once, jerkily. 

Would this be it? Would Eddie feel uncomfortable? Tell him that he’s being too much, projecting more onto this than there actually was? Would this just be someone else that Steve let go and this would just… Just be another memory of something he had wanted that never lasted? Would Eddie regret spending time with him like this?

“Steve?” Eddie called gently, bringing him back out of his thoughts. He realised his eyes were starting to water. He rubbed them quickly, roughly. 

“I don’t know what made you feel this way, but I’m not really the kind of guy that spends his night lying in bed with someone I don’t wanna be lying next to,” Eddie said, half earnestly, but softened with a smirk.

Steve huffed another laugh, nodding again. “Right.”

“This doesn’t have to be any more or any less than this,” Eddie continued, pulling Steve’s hand gently from his face, not letting it go, “I just know I want to be here. Next to you.”

But for how long? Was the unspoken question on Steve’s mind.

“Always,” Eddie replied immediately. Steve blinked in surprise, and Eddie laughed.

“This may sound dumb, but I feel like I’ve known you forever. Your face is so easy to read.”

Steve laughed too, sniffing. It was choked, and wet, and ended with a slight sob. 

Eddie’s hand lifted, cupping the side of Steve’s face. His fingers brushed gently against the hearing aid in Steve’s ear. Steve looked up to see Eddie gazing at the hearing aid before his eyes found Steve’s again. 

“I know we might have lost some things in that hellhole,” Eddie said, his eyes intent on Steve’s, “but when it comes to fighting the horrors of this world, fighting every day to live… There’s no one I’d rather go into battle with.”

Steve didn’t know what to say. His face crumpled a little, and he thought about Eddie’s legs. Eddie had lost more than he had, but he was right. Dealing with everyday, the struggle of regular life or monsters… All of it felt easier if Eddie was by his side.

The tears continued as Steve wheezed a laugh. Eddie’s eyebrows lifted, but he couldn’t help his own smile from growing. 

“What?”

Steve looked up again, wiping tears away with his hand still in Eddie’s, “god, you’re so dramatic!” 

Eddie barked a laugh before quickly slapping a hand over his mouth. This set them both off all over again, wheezing quietly as they tried to control their laughter in Steve’s house in the dead of night. 

“Whatever man, you love how dramatic I am,” Eddie said, giving Steve a playful shove as their laughter died down. Steve smiled warmly up at him. 

“Yes, I do,” he said softly.

Eddie shifted a little, and even though it was dark, Steve could swear he saw a blush. He raised his hand to shift some hair over Eddie’s ear. Those big eyes blinked at him, for a split second looking down at Steve’s lips that were much closer than before. 

“Thank you, Eds.”

“What for?” Eddie asked breathlessly.

“Helping me, being here with me… Not letting this just be another sad memory.”

Eddie’s hand gripped Steve’s tightly before they both leaned in, lips pressed to each other. 

Steve knew that kissing Eddie was something he would never get bored of.

#steddie #lil fics

[prof-peach]

Yknow what I don’t ever get to dive into this one, so for my own holiday fun, let’s elaborate on the ranger AU:

The girls are room mates, rivals for a long while, the tape line that divides their shared space like a battle zone.

Plum is obsessively neat about her books but otherwise is chaos, clothes everywhere, shoes scattered. Bed is about the only thing she makes and keeps clear to sit and work, desk is a mess of research notes and dog eared manuals. Her dratini is utter chaos, unruly doesn’t even describe how Missy is. Plum was raised in a very well off household but her family never came home, work keeping them almost completely busy. This leaves one girl who knows what she’s all about because she had to figure it out, plum is just as wild and chaotic as her Pokemon in her own snooty kind of way. Very particular teenager.

Meanwhile peach has never been allowed to be a kid, she was told what to do and when to do it, hobbies we’re chosen for her, free time used up working hard, training harder, her Pokemon just as pushed to keep up standards. The prodigal daughter put on a pedestal has nothing but pressure from day one. She doesn’t listen to music, have toys or hobbies, even her clothes are plain and not really things you’d fully expect a teenager to wear. She had to just go with her family always pushing her to do what they want and be who they expected. Failure was not met well. Her personal space is painfully tidy, purely because she doesn’t really have much to fill the space at the start. Val is volatile at best, but Bob keeps his sunny disposition, often out in the dorm room happily.

Plum soon realises peach has not developed a personal taste of her own, and cannot understand how that just never happened. So begins her task of getting peach to find things she likes and enjoys. None of her skills sound like things that excite her, peach is this dead pan teenager with no fire for anything. Her hot head rears up when she’s backed into a corner, so when pushed too hard peach snaps, she doesn’t know what she’s suppose to like or do, out of her family home she can only sit and watch others and try to assimilate quietly. A skill she’s quite good at, so most just assume she’s cold and distant by nature, an angry face leading to most leaving her alone.

Plum proceeds to open up a whole world of things for a teenager who never got the chance to just exist without an objective. Music, junk food, staying up late to play games or gossip. They sneak out to town, maybe they steal some overly sweet awful booze, maybe they hide it in their dorm to stay up and talk some nights. Plum gets peach to pick clothes she wants, tries to encourage her to care about anything noticing she’s got piercings, so like…punk?? Is that her thing? No clue, but it’s the total opposite to plums sporty preppy cute outfits, so together they look like night and day.

Their initial arguing and dislike of each other eases off fast, peach realises that maybe not everyone is so awful, and that she’s been stuck with a highly intelligent if not a little scatter brained girl who actually encourages her to live, not just simply exist. It is tentative steps into realising she is more than the weight of her family name.

Other dumb teenager things: peach pierces plums ears for her. Ranger team work tasks that the girls smash through. Late night dorm activities with the other students, you know, typical junk like spin the bottle and such.

Plum 100% is cocky and straightforward during a party and makes sure peach never lives down that she stole the grouchy girls first kiss, etched into her memory forever.

Peach realising “oh no. Very very not straight. Oh no.” To which she’s in deep denial and horrified, because her family CANNOT find out. Seeing as her mom likes to dig through her memories from time to time, peach is utterly terrified to go home.

Plum seeing her roommate return from a weekend back at her family house looking more exhausted and worn out than when she left. Never asks why, never pries, tries to be cheery and help peach not feel so crappy. Peach can’t ever tell her what she’s done, or the guilt she’s carrying around, and as they grow closer, it becomes harder to lie.

Then Booker happens, where the story line splits from canon to the ranger AU. Instead of peach taking the little mon and running, leaving plum without more than a ‘sorry’ and an old bangle on the dorm door handle, she instead cracks, can’t hide the truth anymore, packs up to leave, but can’t go without telling someone, anyone that she’s been a monster, and has to change. Has to do better than she had before. Through tears and drama the truth comes out, plum learns it all, and sees her best friend with a bag on her shoulder, running away.

Through a convincing speech and an understanding and grounded view on the situation plum gets peach to stay, with her, with the rangers, they’ll face it together. For once peach does not want to feel so alone, everything she’s ever done has been singular, even though she’s been surrounded by people pulling her strings, it’s never been because of care or love, just progress. ‘The family comes first’ echos in her mind, and she has to stop this cycle. So peach stays, is deathly afraid her family will hurt plum for getting involved, she hardly sleeps for a while, making sure the night is safe, that no one’s trying to tamper with the path she’s trying to stay on. A good one. A kinder one with less bloodshed.

Plum encouraged peach to take up boxing, for her anger, so she joins a club and finds a love for it. The gains begin, and plum is at every fight, shouting from the side lines. Peach loses a few and takes it really badly. Loss in her family is usually cause for punishment, for isolation or consequence. She expects the same from plum, shocked when it never comes. Her partner is nothing but worried bout the bruises, but seems very encouraging. This is not what was expected.

Plenty of later year teenage shenanigans. Usual suspects, figuring out things like future career options, sexuality, the parties, sneaking out, stress over exams, first hangovers, smoking a little pot after handing in final coursework as a celebration. Peach finds herself, but both girls find a family in each other. Thick as thieves, forever entangled in each others memories now.

The girls grow as rangers, have a few run ins with peach’s cousins but otherwise are left with only a few scars, scrapes and bruises, and eventually they graduate, top of their class none the less. The powerhouse duo that others couldn’t compete with.

Plums become the agile ranger she was meant to be, strategist, a woman who knows every option before you even take your first move, but she lacks practical instinct and brutality, which is peach’s area of expertise. It’s head and heart at it’s most perfect balance.

————————————————

I have so many little headcanons bout this alt set up, but I’m tired, it’s the holidays, and I wanted to blurt this one out. Sorry to all for putting up with me haha

Give me peach gut laughing for the first time and plum realising she’s totally mad for this person.

Give me ranger prom/graduation where they both dress up and get to sneak off and dance together.

Give me chaotic but perfectly drift compatible fights with them and their Pokemon.

Give me prank wars, makeup help, hair style tests, bad hair dye attempts, pizza hang outs.

Give me plum learning how to train Missy well with peach’s help.

Give me adoptive momma bears for Booker.

Give me them laughing so hard one of them nearly throws up at something so stupid and dumb.

Give me the moment that penny drops and they realise they can’t move forward without each other.

I am thriving on this.

#so much dumb shit they’d do #prof.peach #ranger plum #pokemon #tw alchohol mention #tw drugs