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softlyspector · 1 year

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Credence

Summary: A year after his mother’s death, Marc travels back to Chicago to face his father. He doesn’t expect it to be easy but he also doesn’t expect it to be so hard. He especially doesn’t expect to find refuge from the hard moments in a little known witch’s shop a few blocks over. And definitely not in one keeping watch over the family’s piano.

This chapter: You meet Steven, and learn a lot about Marc.

Tales Untold; Part IV - Series Masterlist

Pairing: eventual Marc Spector x Reader (eventual minor Steven Grant x Reader and Jake Lockley x Reader)

Word Count: 6.7k

Warnings (this chapter): mental health issues, feelings of guilt, angst, mentions of past child abuse

A/N: I want to give a big thank you to all of you who have been keeping up with this series. I love you so much, and thank you for all the continued love and support. It means so much. Comments and feedback are so appreciated! Please let me know if any additional warnings need to be added. For full series warnings, please check the series masterlist, which will be updated as parts are posted!

IV.

Tales Untold, Chicago 2:41 AM

The silence of the street is deafening in the wake of Marc’s words.

Nothing on the street moves. The warmth of the spring breeze ruffles the hem of your robe and all you can do is blink at him, not sure how to respond to Marc telling you he’s not Marc. You slide your gaze away from him, eyes tracking over the dark street, like the answer might be hidden in the tree leaves or between the gaps of the paving stones.

Your storefront has never looked more empty, and the memory of Marc laboring in the sun a few days prior comes unbidden. He’d been so careful, repotting the flowers that could be saved into new homes until he could get the supplies to rebuild the flower boxes. You’d sat on the front step, your help vehemently refused by him again and again as he broke down the old flower boxes and took down your sign.

You’d liked watching him, the shape of his hands so capable and strong. The least you could do was keep him company and so you’d sat there on the step, long into the slow afternoon, only occasionally getting up to get him something to drink.

Marc often forgets to take care of himself. He doesn’t think to eat sometimes, nevermind drink something to keep hydrated.

His words ring in your ears again and you blink away the memory.

I’m not Marc.

You glance back at Marc, eyes flicking over him, still not sure what to say, still not sure how you’re meant to reply.

Confusion and just a tad of hurt, spikes in your veins. What was with the accent? The apologetic shine in his eyes?

I’m not Marc.

Maybe you’d heard him wrong.

He opens his mouth to continue, fingers still anxiously twisting together in front of his chest.

“Marc?” you shake your head slowly and cut him off before he can speak. “Are you okay? What’s happening?”

“Sorry, sorry, doing a shit job at explaining myself, yeah?” He chuckles nervously then wipes at his cheeks, the briny residue of tears still staining his skin. “Dunno what happened. Somethin’ bad must have.” Marc shivers even though the early morning air is warm and humid.

Sweat beads along his brow, pearling against his skin and slowly rolling down his temples and into his mussed hair.

You swallow, trying to place the accent in his mouth, trying to place why he’s speaking to you in an accent at all.

It’s one that’s unfamiliar to you - London or just British you can’t tell.

I’m not Marc.

The sudden unfamiliarity of him makes you want to pull back from him. The confused hurt burbling ever higher in the back of your throat.

Marc’s shoulders twitch in another violent shiver that finally breaks you out of your shock.

Odd accent or not, he’s shivering and obviously distressed. “Marc, honey,” you beckon him forward, stepping back from the door. “C’mere, come inside. You look like you’re freezing.”

He hesitates, mouth opening and closing a few times before he finally manages to make the words come out. “I’m - I’m, please listen,” he pleads gently with you. “I’m not Marc. My name is Steven Grant. I’m not sure what’s happened, yeah? Just…I just woke up on your street.”

For one defensive, mean moment, your heart folds in on itself and you consider slamming the door in his face. After you’d spent so much time together, opened your home to him, he was…what? Fucking with you?

You tighten your grip on the door, prepared to shut it and tell him to fuck off. How juvenile, and cruel. And for what purpose? To get back at you for what happened outside his father’s house?

Everything you know about Marc flashes through your mind's eye. It just doesn’t sit right with you, weighs oddly on your heart.

It’s not something Marc would do.

Distress lines the body in front of you. Your eyes trace over those broken capillaries again, the tacky sweat and tears drying on his skin. His shoulders hitch a little as he sniffles and you realize he may start crying.

You relax your hand on the edge of the door, taking a long breath.

That did leave the question of what was actually happening, though.

He’s disheveled and distressed, swiping the sweat away from his temples with a shaking hand while he waits for your judgment.

You think briefly of the stress Marc always seems to be under, the fear in his eyes when he’d found you conversing with his father, how you’d considered his reactions far too exaggerated for someone with just a tense relationship with a parent.

Maybe, maybe the stress had finally caught up with him.

It didn’t matter really, you wouldn’t leave him standing there on the street no matter what.

You glance back at Marc - Steven, you mentally correct yourself - and smile. He still looks nervous, like he’s afraid you’re going to turn him away. Like he’s been rejected before, like he’s been accused of lying before, and he fears it's about to happen again.

“Okay. Steven,” you give a firm nod, the name an odd taste in your mouth. It feels strange to see Marc, and call him something else.

You just need to understand, you think. You just need to understand what’s happening.

“Steven,” you repeat his name, trying to get used to it. Deciding you should treat him like someone you don’t know, if he’s insistent that he isn’t Marc. And if you don’t know him, he might not know you. “Are you comfortable coming inside?”

He nods, stepping closer to you and his voice wavers, “Don’t think I can go back there…not while I don’t know what’s happened. I’ll explain everything! Honest, I will. Sorry, I know how confusing this all must feel. I’ve-I was, when it first happened.”

When what first happened?

You don’t ask just yet, smiling again instead while you hold the door open wider to let Steven step inside.

“You’re shivering,” you fuss at him, closing the door gently and twisting the lock back into place.

You reach out and cup your hands around his shoulders, rubbing his arms lightly. He’s wearing a black t-shirt and jeans. His skin is clammy and chilled, tacky with a dried anxious sweat.

It’s something you never do with Marc, you don’t usually touch him at all. But the action doesn’t feel strange with Steven, and he leans into it, accepting, stepping closer to you.

“Explain what?” You ask as gently as you can, the dark of the shop hemming you in close, cocooning you together. “Steven?”

“Something must have happened with Marc and our dad…that’s the only thing that could explain it, yeah? Why I was - this doesn’t usually happen. Not anymore. He must be really upset.” He seems anxious at the thought, and you find it hard to keep up, to understand what he’s saying when he’s talking about himself like Marc is another person.

Which, you suppose, he must be.

An idea fractures in your mind, something you’d read about online once. Back when you were still thinking of finishing college, when you thought getting a degree in psychology might be a good idea.

“I’m so sorry,” you say as gently as you can. “I still don’t understand. I don’t know what’s happening.”

Steven takes a breath and meets your eyes, frowning apologetically.

And it is Steven.

Because the longer you look at him, at the sloped curve of his shoulders, the soft cast of his gaze, and the fluttery nervousness of his hands, the more you realize this truly is not Marc Spector before you.

It can’t be.

He doesn’t even look like Marc, not really.

“Steven,” you trail your hands down to his wrists, note that his hands are still shaking. “What happened?” And then, not quite knowing if it was the right thing to ask, “Is - is Marc alright?”

Steven nods at you, nods and nods and doesn’t look away from you, his eyes growing round and soft. “Bloody hell, you are gorgeous. Marc doesn’t tell you that. He thinks so too.”

“Oh,” you feel something pleasantly warm pool in your gut. “No, he doesn’t. Tell me, that is.”

It’s strange, to be speaking to Steven about Marc, like he isn’t there.

And he isn’t, you suppose.

You just need a bit of time to adjust to that.

“Okay, Steven,” you repeat his name, trying to convey that you’re starting to understand just a little. “Would you like to come upstairs?”

Tales Untold, Chicago 3:04 AM

Steven is much chattier than Marc, and much more willing to part with information.

You settle him on the same stool Marc usually takes at your kitchen island, and go about making a cup of tea for each of you. “Sorry, I only drink tea at night so I only have chamomile. It helps me sleep.”

“That sounds lovely, actually,” he says, his eyes soft as his gaze follows you around the apartment. He’s much calmer now, the hitch in his breath gone.

So you make the tea, and find that Steven takes his with just the slightest amount of honey.

You’ve only ever seen Marc drink coffee, and always with too much sugar and a splash of milk.

With the first sip of tea, his shoulders loosen just a fraction, the muscles in his face and neck relaxing.

Even so, his limbs are looser than Marc’s ever have been and you realize you’ve never seen Marc fully at ease. “So,” you move around the counter and grab the blanket from the sofa to drape around Steven’s shoulders, worried that the shaking in his limbs might never stop. “You’re Steven.”

Steven nods at you, hands cupping around the warmth of the mug in front of him. “I’m sorry about bothering you so late,” he falters. “It was very kind of you to let me in at all…I know how I must sound to you.”

“You don’t sound any particular way,” you quickly chirp. “Really. It was more of a shock than anything. I should be apologizing to you.” Before he can contradict you, you continue, “And it’s no bother that you’re here,” you assure him. “Really. Uh -,” you hesitate. “Marc is here all the time late. He was drunk on my doorstep the first time.”

Steven chuckles. “Yeah, I remember bits of that. What an absolute plonker he was.”

You stifle a laugh, and then wait, sensing he’s going to get to explaining things to you without your coaxing, in his own time.

Very different from Marc then.

“Not sure - I mean if you’re confused then obviously - obviously Marc never talked to you about it.”

You tilt your head and wait for him to continue. “Talked to me about what?”

“Us. Me and Jake. Why would he though? No need, yet, yeah?” He chuckles uncomfortably.

“Jake?”

“Sorry, I’m still not, not explaining things right. Probably just makin’ it more bloody confusing.” He shakes his head, eyes clenching closed briefly.

You smile, “Just a bit.”

Steven blinks back over at you, watches you for a moment, not looking away like Marc would. It’s odd to feel his eyes linger for so long, gaze trapped on yours.

His brows are tilted out and up, rather than lowered over his eyes, divoting that little space between his brows with tension.

“Well, I guess it's better to just say it, innit? Marc didn’t explain things to me properly and that turned out just bloody brilliant, didn’t it? No.” His smile is warm. The brown of his eyes is warm, like melting molasses to Marc’s umber.

You don’t try to hide the laugh that bubbles up. Strange as the situation is, it doesn’t feel wrong. It feels like something that was always meant to happen. You reach out and lie a hand against Steven’s forearm, silently encouraging.

“Marc has Dissociative Identity Disorder,” Steven says, watching your hand, the slow stroke of your thumb against his skin. “Well, I suppose we all do, really. I didn’t know about Marc for a long time. It was an accident that I found out at all. He would have kept himself a secret from me if he could have.”

His skin feels warm now, and you’re glad the chilled feeling has retreated. Your heads are bent close together, and when you look up, Steven’s nose nearly brushes yours. So, you’d guessed right earlier, that fleeting thought. “What happened?” You ask.

His brows quirk up. “You…believe me?”

You blink, not expecting to be questioned. “Should I not?” Then, a hot anger creeps in, “Do people usually not?”

He swallows, and you release his arm and lean away from him, trying to remember he’s a stranger, that Steven and you do not know each other despite how familiar he is to you. “Just, just a bit strange.”

“I believe you,” you reassure him. “Of course I do.”

He hesitates, then continues, his words stilting and slow. “Marc is protective,” he explains. “He’d rather shoulder everything alone.”

You smile, and drum your fingers against the counter to quell the urge to touch him again. “That does sound like Marc.” When Steven takes another sip of tea, tucking the blanket tighter around his shoulders, you continue, worried you were making a mess of things or not reacting appropriately. “It’s really nice to meet you, Steven. I’m sorry about how I answered the door.”

Steven’s face relaxes, his shoulders loosening a bit more. “You couldn’t have known. I’d say you’re taking everything rather well.” His face is loose, a curious expression tilting his features. “You are really very kind. I see why Marc likes you.”

A nervous flutter beats in your belly and then moves up to knock against your ribs. It’s an innocent enough sentiment, still, you find yourself oddly delighted to know Marc does actually enjoy your company.

You can’t imagine what makes Steven say it, though, so you just smile. “That’s such a strange thing to hear about yourself. Thank you all the same,” you move off the stool and back around the counter, giving him a little more space.

You retrieve your own cup of tea, watching the familiar body glance around your apartment with curious eyes.

His gaze lands on the piano in the corner, the key lid still slid back from the last time you’d played for Marc. Steven opens his mouth and you expect him to question you, but instead he merely murmurs, “I see why Marc likes coming here so much.”

You nod, “I play for him each night. It’s why he decided to do some repairs for me. He’s pretty closed up about the piano though. Think maybe it’s something to do with your mother.”

Anger you don’t expect wells up inside you, wriggles between your teeth. You tuck your robe tighter around yourself with a sudden chill, thoughts of Marc’s insistence that you not get out of the truck, his body physically blocking yours from the house, flashing through your mind.

You know the origins of DID, and a lump forms in the back of your throat.

He must be so angry at you, for not listening to him.

Angry, or terrified. You can’t decide which is more likely.

You’re brought out of your reverie when a crisp piano note floats through the room.

Steven has moved to stand by the piano, staring down at the keys with a soft expression. When he glances up, he looks a tad embarrassed. “Has Marc told you why this is so important to him?”

“No,” you take a few steps forward. “He won’t even touch it.”

Steven depresses another key, decidedly not sitting down. “Does he know how to play it?”

You laugh and move to sit on the piano bench, feeling the ghost of all the times you’ve sat next to Marc there, his shoulder gently pressing into yours, the contact so light it was almost nonexistent, like he was afraid to take too much, make too much of a mark. “He said he used to know.”

“Maybe when we were children then,” Steven surmises, taking a seat next to you. “Reminds him of something.”

“You don’t know?” You ask, surprised.

“Won’t bloody tell me, no. Said he would sometime.” He continues quickly, “And he will, just needs a bit of time.”

You watch his hands, not touching the keys now but hovering over them, tapping out a silent song. “Looks like you know how to play it. Maybe you should try.”

Steven hesitates, hands hovering still over the keys suddenly, fingers frozen. “Not sure I should. I don’t know why Marc won’t.”

“He’s trying to protect you from something,” you guess.

Steven slowly shakes his head, fingers lowering and knotting together in his lap, “Not this time, no. I don’t think so. Usually I’d say yes, but I don’t think he’d keep bringing us over here around it if it were something bad.”

“He said he’d tell me,” Steven repeats, anxiously, like the words aren’t quite coming out the way he wants them to. Like he’s preemptively trying to protect Marc from your judgment, though you have none to level against him. “He - he tries to tell me things. But he’s not good at it yet. Talking about things, that is.”

You nod, “Yeah, I understand.”

Steven’s hands hover over the keys again, tapping out music you can’t hear. “He hasn’t told you anything? Nothing at all?” You shake your head and Steven rolls his eyes, but it's with a gentle affection. “Bloody hell, Marc,” he mutters to himself.

“It’s okay,” you murmur. “We don’t know each other that well.”

He turns to stare at you, his knee pressing into the side of your thigh. “Hang on,” he blinks at you, “Marc, he’s here everyday, yeah?” You nod. “What an absolute twat. Really? Nothing?”

You find yourself smiling, leaning closer to Steven, “Yes, well, I haven’t exactly asked. And like you said he’s kinda closed up. I know a little but I try not to push him.”

Steven fidgets, glances around the room. “I could tell you - just a few things.”

You hesitate. Though you want to know more, about Marc, about Steven, you don’t want to know if Marc doesn't want you to.

“I’m not sure-,” you start to hedge.

“Just about me then,” he smiles. “Nothin’ to do with Marc. He can tell you when he gets his head out of his arse.”

You snort, the laugh that bubbles up so unexpected. “Alright then. Just about you.”

Steven is beaming at you, “You have a nice laugh.”

He smells like Marc, of course he does, wide brown eyes watching you with an unearned amount of affection. “Sorry,” he chuckles, just a bit self-deprecating. “I do feel like I know you, just a bit.”

“I understand.” You look away and clear your throat. “I feel like I know you too.” You meet Steven’s eyes again and then turn to the keys, slowly playing the song you always tap out for Marc. “Can I ask who Jake is?”

“As far as we know,” Steven answers easily. “There are three of us. Jake, he’s rather elusive. Rarely around really.”

You nod, and Steven leans into your side, much more heavily than Marc ever has. The warmth of him against you is nearly hot but not unpleasant. “Mm,” you hum so he knows you’re listening to whatever he wants to tell you.

Steven tells you that they don’t usually switch without the other’s knowledge, not anymore. “So, something must have happened, that the switch was involuntary, yeah? It only happens when we’re upset.”

You tilt your head, beginning to see why he’d been so anxious. “When things get too much,” you tread lightly.

“Yes,” Steven smiles at you. “Exactly.” His grin fades, “Don’t remember anythin’, though. Just - just staring at your shop.” You don’t have time to contemplate that, your body reacting on instinct as you suddenly turn and take his hands, a horrible thought occurring to you.

“Are you-,” you glance over his hands, press your fingers up his arms. “Hurt. Are you hurt?”

His smile is sad and gentle. “No. Not physically anyways. That’s somethin’ we don’t have to worry about anymore.” He avoids your gaze when he says it, an odd grief lodging in his eyes.

You find it hard to breathe for a moment, something hard sticking in the back of your throat.

Their mother, then.

Anger pools in your gut but you swallow it. It’s bitter. It burns going down.

“Well,” you release him. “That’s good to hear.”

It’s silent for a moment, in which you stare at Steven and he stares back at you. “He must feel very safe. To come here to you.” He swallows. “To bring me here. Us.”

“You’re always welcome,” you say. “Any of you. Even Jake. You’re all safe here.”

You’re surprised to see a tear streak down his cheek, before he leans in and takes your hands and deposits them back on the keys. “Keep playing. Please.”

Tales Untold, Chicago 5:13 AM

The sky is starting to lighten when you finally stop playing.

Steven offers to leave, or to sleep on your couch.

But all you see is the grief in his shoulders, the cast of shadow beneath his eyes, the broken capillaries, the pin pricks of red. You imagine how hard Marc must have been crying and decide you can’t let either of them be alone.

Steven doesn’t protest so much, or outright refuse when you tell him to sleep in your bed. It’s big enough, you argue, and you don’t want him to be alone, not even across the room.

Something in his face crumbles when you say that, and a torn, aching, raw hole of loneliness in them makes itself known to you.

You imagine Marc, if he could even be convinced, would lie stiffly next to you.

But Steven relaxes, laces his fingers with yours across the stretch of sheets between you and tells you how much he likes the stained glass that hangs in your window.

“I’ve been thinking of making some, for downstairs in the front window.”

“You made those?”

“Yeah.”

“Bloody brilliant. They’re beautiful.”

You smile.

Steven’s eyes are on your hands in the dark, his thumb tracing over the back of your hand. “Maybe I could help you? Since Marc is helping with everything else.”

“I would love that.”

He tells you about his job, about London, until his voice slows and slurs and eventually stops altogether.

You stay awake until his breathing evens out and slows. Only then, do you let a couple tears slip out and take a shuddering breath.

Tales Untold, Chicago 7:24 AM

Pale sunlight streams from between the slats of the blinds. It bends around the stained glass hangings, purples and reds splotched against the far wall.

The light wavers over the floor in long ribbons. The room is warm, the threat of the first truly hot day looming.

And Marc can’t make heads or tails of where he is for a moment.

His last memory is the heaving, soul crushing grief blocking his throat, the divoting fingers of the past gripping his lungs in tight fists. He remembers staring up at the front of your shop, empty and dark, without your sign and those pitiful fucking flower boxes.

The worming hurt had seized him again. He couldn’t brother you, not like this, not again.

Not after you’d seen too much, not after he’d frightened you and made you flee. You had wanted nothing to do with him. You had been eager to be away from him, and that’s something he could never blame you for.

Another howling sob had climbed up the back of his throat, so hot and hard he’d choked on it, swallowing down the sound until the pressure behind his eyes felt like it might bleed.

And then -

Nothing.

Just flashes of what came after, of you opening the door to Steven, your hands on piano keys, the twist of your mouth when you smiled.

Now, bright sun.

He blinks into it. Something heavy and warm rests over him, something soft and weighted with fragrance.

Marc freezes when he recognizes the scent.

Lavender and rosemary. You.

The sun retreats, his eyes adjusting to the light, and he finds himself blinking at the changing screen patterned with baby’s breath and tulips.

The thing on his chest is a cream colored duvet.

He’s in your fucking bed.

Surely not.

Surely Steven had not-

Slept next to you. Imposed them on you like that.

He shifts, and finds the bed empty. But the sheets on the other side of the bed are rumpled. And when he slides his hand across the mattress he finds it still warm with fading body heat.

Marc jerks his hand back like he’s been stung.

A headache begins at the base of his neck, the weight of this, of you knowing about Steven, of you and Steven bonding, combined with the night before, is too much.

He's not upset you've met Steven, he's more concerned with what Steven might have told you.

The conversation with his father floats back through his mind. The way you’d been all too keen to get away from him on the street. You hadn’t let him take you home, you clearly hadn’t wanted him to come over for dinner like he normally did.

He’d been trying, so fucking hard, not to let you see, not to let you get too close and see too much. You don’t deserve that, no one does, to have to carry inside them the things that he already did.

What had Steven told you? Marc doesn’t know. His memory is nothing but random flashes.

Marc sits up slowly, rubbing at the back of his neck as he tosses the duvet back and swings his legs over the side of the bed.

“Steven?” You call out at the sound of him moving around.

He freezes, the cut of your voice light and hopeful.

Do you always sound like that? He suddenly can't remember. Maybe it was a tone reserved for Steven.

Fuck.

He clears his throat, disentangling himself from the sheets. “It’s me,” he rumbles.

You appear around the side of the screen, eyes wide. “Sorry, I wasn’t sure who-,”

“It’s okay,” he interrupts, not quite meeting your eyes. A hard knot of shame swells in his chest, choking him. “So,” he grates. “You met Steven.”

He sounds irritated to his own ears, but he doesn’t correct his harsh tone. He doesn’t move to meet your gaze, training his gaze on your sock clad feet instead when he stands.

“Yes,” you say, stepping back when he moves from around the changing screen to face you fully. “I did.”

Marc huffs out a self-deprecating laugh, his headache increasing in intensity. “Great.”

A long silence slips between you. Tension floods his shoulders and rakes up his spine. Shame makes a familiar home in his heart, curling tight around the arteries.

He finally turns his eyes up to yours.

But you’re just watching him with a quiet intensity. Gently, like you’re speaking to a wounded animal, you say, “He’s lovely. Me and Steven got along well. I’m glad I got to meet him.”

When he doesn’t answer, you continue, “Are you okay? What happened? Steven didn’t seem to know.”

“No,” he lashes out, hating himself even as the words spill forth.

It’s easier. Hatred and embarrassment are easier to swallow than your acceptance. He wants your hatred and rejection and embarrassment. Because at least that makes sense. “Still told you plenty though, huh?”

Marc curls his hands into fists at his sides, waiting for you to snap back at him. You just shrug and step back, circling your kitchen island. “Yeah, we talked. Nothing important really.” You pull down two glasses from one of the cabinets. You have to stretch and your shirt slides up, revealing the soft skin of your lower back.

He shifts his eyes away from you, trying to hang onto the fraying threads of the shame and anger welling up inside him.

But you aren’t rejecting him, that’s clear. Not in any sense of the word. You aren’t treating him any differently than you normally do.

He feels inadequate, bad. Guilt lingers long against the wings of his lungs.

“I’m going to make some iced coffee.”

You don’t ask if he wants any, and Marc doesn’t answer. The acrid emotions floating inside his lungs like black smoke, starts to fade when he realizes you aren’t going to engage him at all. You aren’t going to entertain his anger or his shame. There’s nothing to be angry or guilty about.

“Come sit down,” you direct. “You don’t have to tell me what happened. But you should probably talk to Steven if you can. He was pretty upset.” You fill the glasses with ice, the clink loud in the quiet early morning. “He really didn’t tell me anything,” you add quietly. “Really he didn’t.”

Marc takes a long breath, closing his eyes for a moment, before he crosses the room to sit on his usual stool. “I shouldn’t have come over here,” he rasps, dragging a hand down his face, elbows braced against the counter. “You didn’t want us here.”

You turn and offer him one of the cups, sliding it over the counter to him. You plant one hand on your hip and tilt your head at him. “Really, Marc? Who said I don’t want you here? It certainly wasn’t me. Steven just explained that you have DID. Okay? That’s it. And that’s nothing to - to be ashamed of. Okay? And I don’t think Steven remembered what happened so he didn’t tell me anything else. He couldn’t.”

The glass is patterned with bumblebees. Marc traces a thumb over one of them. “Yeah? Wasn’t that enough?”

“Enough?” You ask, confusion coloring your voice.

He doesn’t answer, doesn’t know how to tell you that he’s crazy, even if you don’t recognize it yet. You don’t know everything, but this should be enough. Enough to put distance between the cradle of your care and him.

And how much he’s come to rely on you.

“Oh,” you whisper suddenly. Because you’re smart and intuitive and you just seem to always understand, even when he doesn’t say anything. “Oh, Marc, no. No.” And then, your voice light, filled with a strange levity, “I really like Steven and you promised to make me planter boxes.”

He chokes down the laugh that threatens to burst free. “Yeah, I did.” His shoulders loosen, the adrenaline flooding his system eases out and leaves him feeling exhausted, wan and dried out.

“Right. So you aren’t allowed to go anywhere just yet. I don’t want you to anyways.” You push a bottle of coffee creamer across the counter to him. “Here. I saw this one at the store and thought you might like to try it. It’s probably sweet enough for you.”

He just nods and takes it from you.

You round the counter and sit next to him with your own cup, fingers sliding up and down the sweating glass nervously.

“Can I tell you what I felt when I touched the piano?” He freezes, doesn’t dare look over at you. “My…I don’t like to think about it like a power. Because it doesn’t feel that way, and I don’t control it. I don’t want to control it. I trust it to know when I should know something.” You pause, swirling the straw in your glass. “And the piano wanted me to know.”

Marc turns to look at you, and finds himself reflected in your eyes. You look ashamed, guilty. Your smile is warped, sitting on your skin like you expect to be rejected. He remembers that first time you’d mentioned it, that the piano remembered him. You’d looked embarrassed then, too.

And the next time. So, shit talks to you, huh?

You’d snorted, avoided talking about it.

He must be silent for too long, because you nervously continue, fingers drumming on the counter. “I know it’s weird. It’s okay if-,”

“No,” he interrupts. “No. Tell me.”

“It’s weird, I know-,” you repeat again before you pause and take a breath. Your mouth opens and closes several times, like you don’t know how to continue.

He wants to tell you it's okay. Instead, he says, “Tell me.”

You blink and then smile, taking a sip of your coffee and watching from the corner of your eye to see if he does the same. He rolls his eyes and lifts his own glass.

You’re right, he likes the coffee creamer. White chocolate mocha, the bottle says.

It’s so sweet it makes his teeth itch. He loves it.

“It’s good.”

“I knew you’d like it,” you chime before you clear your throat. “When I touched the piano that first time, and everytime after that really, it felt like peace. Like happiness. Maybe like gold and mornings. To me, it’s like a conversation. And all it wanted me to know is that it was not ready to leave it’s home.” Marc stares at you, eyes flickering down to your hand which rests next to his, not touching his skin, not quite. “It was waiting for someone. Wouldn’t say who.”

You swallow. “So I never suspected, Marc. About your mother. I’m sorry. I don’t know what happened but I’m sorry and I understand why it’s so complicated for you. The piano and being here and how it used to be hers.”

Steven might not have told you anything, but you’ve been able to guess, at least about some things. He fidgets, pressure spilling down his sides, raking over the skin of his belly. He inches his hand into yours, so your pinkies are touching. “You weren’t supposed to know.”

“I’m sorry,” you say and you sound like you mean it.

Marc moves his hand until it’s settled fully over yours. Your skin is soft beneath his calloused palm. “There’s a lot you don’t know. You don’t have to be sorry about any of it.”

The shame has retreated, replaced by this odd acceptance.

You flip your hand up and press your fingers through his.

Tales Untold, Chicago 6:59 PM

He’s repointing your brickwork, or starting on it at least, digging out the old mortar from between the bricks and letting it lie where it falls.

You’re sitting on the step up to your shop, quiet in the setting sun. You look content, capable hands sanding down the sides of the first completed flower box he’d brought over the day before.

“Before…before things changed, we were really close.” You look up but Marc doesn’t look at you. He speaks to the brick. “My mom and me. We played the piano together. All the time.”

You carefully set the box down, leaning your elbows against your knees as you listen. “She started drinking a lot. Piano got covered up. We never played it again. Maybe that’s why you feel good things from it. Because that’s all it knows. That’s all I remember.” He jams the chisel into the mortar hard, sweat drips down his temple, slides along the curve of his cheek.

“I’m sorry for - for what happened the other day with my dad. I didn’t mean to scare you.” You shift, sitting up straight but Marc still doesn’t look at you, shoving the chisel between the bricks again without preamble. His arms strain, and he thinks he should stop, that he’s digging in too far.

“After you left,” he continues, even though he can see you opening your mouth in his peripheral vision, probably to contradict him, but he doesn’t want you to have to lie for his sake. “After you left, my dad asked about you. Too many questions. Why I didn’t want you to come inside. He asked like he didn’t know how hard it is for me to go inside.”

Marc knows, he knows you’ve already guessed at the abuse. Steven had told him how you’d asked if he was hurt. And Marc remembers, can see your face in his mind’s eye, the gears turning in your head as you put the pieces of who he is together.

You’re too intuitive for your own good.

So he might as well just get the words out.

“I…usually handle it better but I was so -,”

He was so fucking scared. Anxious.

“Stretched thin,” he says. “That I couldn’t - that the truth just came out.”

You haven’t moved, and Marc sets the chisel down, his hand shaking. “What happened?” Your soft voice asks as he sits on the pavement and leans back against the ruined brick wall.

“I reminded him,” Marc says, bracing his forearms on his knees. “Of why this has been so hard. I reminded him of everything that happened in that house.” He manages to look over you, fastening his eyes on your ankles, the old pair of sneakers you wear. “Told him that’s why you’ll never fucking visit. Not as long as I’m there.” He swallows, “Especially now that I know…I don’t want you to touch something, see something you won’t be able to forget.”

When he finally drags his eyes up to yours, the last part is easy to say. “Went to bed. I shouldn’t have tried to sleep, not when I felt the way I did.” He swallows, thinks briefly about how pretty you look in the sun. “Nightmare, from the stress probably. I could feel how close I was to slipping but I couldn’t stay there and - and I’m trying not to become her, so I can’t drink and -,”

Marc doesn’t finish that thought, and the silence stretches for a long minute.

“What was the dream about?”

What it’s always about. Rushing water. Begging cries. Bruised hands. Slamming doors.

“Doesn’t matter,” he shakes his head. “I shouldn’ta come here. But, maybe I knew - you and Steven would put things back together.”

You stand, hesitating for only a second before you join him on the ground. You push your head against his shoulder and let out a long breath. “You can always come here. You’re safe here. Steven and Jake too.”

“Not sure you wanna leave the door open for us like that,” he tries to joke.

But you just nod fervently against him, “Yes, I do.”

He should let you go. He shouldn’t tell you these things.

Instead, he twists his fingers with yours. “You gonna paint that one tonight?”

“No,” you squeeze his hand. “It’s almost dinner time. I thought we could order Chinese.”

He nods, presses his nose into your temple even though he shouldn’t accept your comfort.

“We gotta get out more,” you say suddenly. “Outta this shop and you outta that house.”

He nods against you, eyes closed, breathing in the lavender and rosemary of you.

His hands are dirty but you still clutch at him like he’s not sweaty and gross. You inhale against him like he’s made of something much more valuable than flesh and blood.

“Do you want to reconcile with your father?”

“I don’t know,” he answers honestly.

“Well,” you start. “You could bring him to dinner here. It’s a start. It’s neutral ground.”

Marc doesn’t answer but you don’t demand one from him. Like you know he’ll answer you sometime, eventually.

“We gotta go to a Cubs game,” he says. “I haven’t…there’s a lotta stuff about Chicago I miss.”

“Like the Bean.”

He snorts, “Oh yeah.”

“Pizza.” You lift your head, “Navy Pier. Skydeck. Shedd.”

“Yeah. Mostly the pizza though.” Then, hesitant because you’re like a mirage, like something too good to believe. He squeezes your fingers, feels you echo the touch, squeezing right back. “Wanna go to a Cubs game with me?”

“As long as you buy me pizza afterwards.”

He can feel you smiling against his arm when you duck your head.

Marc huffs out a gentle laugh. His chest feels distinctly lighter. “Okay.”

“It’s a date.”

Thank you for reading! Another special thank you to those keeping up with the series, and for all the continued love and support.

Comments and feedback are so appreciated. New parts will be posted Saturdays at 3PM EST! You can add yourself to the tag list on the series masterlist.

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Text

All I Ever Knew, Only You 7: There Is A Hole In My Soul That Can Never Be Filled

Chapter Seven.

Oh, the truth, The damn hard truth, That I didn't think I was capable of love, Loving anyone, even you, But then you, undeniable you, You came to me like a dream, And you changed me through and through, Oh because I, I was a broken man, Never thought that I could love again, I thought I'd leave this world a lonely man, But then you, undeniable you, Changed me through and through

Summary: Hawkins was your typical quaint, mid-western town where nothing ever happened. People were born here, lived their entire lives within the town limits, and eventually died here, peacefully in their sleep. But one cold November evening in 1983 would change everything.

Despite a child with psychokinetic abilities and ravenous monsters that lacked faces, stranger things had definitely happened in the small town in Indiana. One of them being your reluctant and slightly imposed friendship with Hawkins High’s own King Bee, Steve Harrington.

Characters: Steve Harrington x Non-descriptive F!Reader (eventual)

Words: 9,528

Chapter Warnings: Mentions of hospitals, mentions of money problems, parental style arguing with Hop, mentions of possible near-death experiences, mentions of mental health conditions, allusions to addictions, eye contact. Lots of eye contact. We're almost through the Stancy storyline, I promise.

Series Warnings: Strong language, mentions of underage drinking, mentions of drug use, canon-typical violence, mentions of alcohol abuse, mentions of possible mental health disorders, child abuse, slow burn, kinda enemies-to-friends-to-lovers, I like to call it ‘two idiots who begrudgingly befriend each other only to realize… ‘wait a damn minute…’, eventual sexual content, canon-typical time-period bullshit. 18+. Minors DNI.

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Chapter Seven: There Is A Hole In My Soul That Can Never Be Filled

The incessant beeps were driving you insane.

Your head was pounding and all you wanted to do was sleep. Sleep until nothing hurts anymore. But that god-forsaken beeping wouldn’t stop.

You could hear chatter around you, muffled and distant, but there nonetheless yet you couldn’t recognize any of the voices. For a moment, you wondered if you were in one of those half-awake states. That you had slept through your alarm and your body was too slow in waking up, knowing that the school rush would be hectic.

You wanted to slam your arm on top of the alarm clock and throw it across the room in an attempt to quieten it, but no matter how hard you tried, you couldn’t force your arm to move.

Trying with all your might, you tried to peel your eyes open, the beeping increasing in tempo when you realized it shouldn’t be this hard to wake up. The voices around you drew closer, your name falling from unrecognizable mouths, a futile attempt to pacify you as you began to panic.

Everything smelt a little too clean as if someone had scrubbed every inch of the room with bleach before bathing in antiseptic. An underlying bitter smell, leaving an aftertaste on your tongue akin to that of iron.

It wasn’t until your eyes finally peeled open that worry bubbled into panic, settling under your skin, merging and fusing with your bones as you realized you didn’t recognize this place, and the insistent beeping was not your alarm clock.

You expected the pain to hit you, but your body remained numb, tingly almost, as if you hadn’t moved in too long, pins and needles bursting through your limbs and you weren’t sure whether to remain still and let them fade or to shake your body in hopes of forcing them from you.

Turns out, the latter wasn’t even an option.

More mummers from around the room, a soft, soothing voice trying to reassure you of your safety, but the words of strangers fell flat. Your body was still in fight or flight, and all you wanted to do was run.

Run far away from this place. Far away from Hawkins. Far away from the Midwest.

The private waiting room wasn’t as full as it was earlier in the evening, and despite the young boys’ insistence, Mr and Mrs. Wheeler had driven them home an hour or so ago.

Nancy, however, remained in her seat, Steve’s offer to drive her home being the only reason her mother had allowed her to stay. Her leg bounced as she checked her watch for what felt like the millionth time in the last couple of hours.

Will had woken up earlier, a sigh of relief erupting from the small waiting room, but she refused to leave until she heard how you were.

They’d rushed you to Hawkins Memorial in Steve’s — much faster — car, your head resting in Nancy’s lap, the girl trying her best to keep you conscious as Jonathan continued to hold the stained pillow against your body.

It was there that they ran into Joyce and Hopper, the kids turning up a little later to be checked over, and once they’d realized Will had been found, they refused to leave, so Mr. and Mrs. Wheeler offered to drop the rest of the kids home when they got news on the boy.

Jonathan had rushed home to pack him a small box of items and had since returned to his brother's side, unwilling to leave him, Joyce was much the same.

Although Hopper was beyond relieved that he had managed to find the boy and rush him to the hospital, the teens’ pale, worried faces as he questioned your whereabouts made his heart drop.

Nancy had explained what had happened, why you were here, and Hopper was certain the minute you were out of surgery he would kill you himself.

His head shot up, watching as a nurse entered the small room, her eyes looking around for someone she wasn’t going to find, eventually settling on the Chief instead,

“She’s awake, but she’s very groggy.”

Hopper stood, stepping over his fallen hat without a second thought as he made his way toward the door, only to be stopped by the nurse’s outstretched hand, “I’m being serious, Chief. She lost a lot of blood, and she’s very confused. She doesn’t need a grilling from the police right now-”

His eyebrows pulled together, a mixture of annoyance and offense at the nurse’s words, “I’m not here to question her.”

Despite his effort to move forward, he was halted once again, “Then I’m afraid it’s only parents or guardians at this time. I’ve already told the last officer-”

“Look around, do you see her parents anywhere? Now I’m going-”

“Other officer?” Nancy questioned, her eyes darting between Hopper and the nurse, “What other officer?”

“The one hanging about by the room... Chief? Chief!” Hopper bumped the nurse out of the way, long legs marching down the corridor until he reached your room. His hand flexed over the gun that was resting in his holster. There were no officers outside, and as he peered through the small window of your door, he couldn’t see anyone in there either.

Pushing the door open, Hopper froze as he looked over your frame, finding himself unable to fully catch his breath.

He hated the clinical smell of hospitals, and if he closed his eyes, he could’ve easily been transported back to 1978. To New York… To that hospital.

Forcing a deep inhale through his nose, Hopper pushed himself forward, one step at a time as he approached your bed, his heart pounding in his ears, and the slow, steady beeping of the monitor was the only thing that kept him grounded. You were here, and you were alive.

Your name fell softly from his lips as if he was almost too scared to wake you. Or himself. Because what if he was back in that waiting room, life forever on a loop of tragedies that began and ended in a hospital? He couldn’t help but believe that he definitely was cursed.

It took two more calls of your name — and the feather-light drag of fingertips along your forearm — before you arose, eyes wider and more alert than before, gasping for breath as much as you were for something to ground you. Something you recognized.

The beeping — the same annoying, unceasing noise — seemed to get louder, the tempo increasing more and more as you panted, your heart feeling like it was going to burst from your chest at any given moment.

You could hear your name being called, at first gently, almost soothing, before that too became more frenzied, a strong hand gripping you as you sat up, stopping you as your frantic hands tried to rip the wires from your body and off your face, panic and flight set in all too quickly, evading your senses and blinding you to what was really there, the pain from your tugging stitches merely a thought on the back burner of your mind.

More voices joined the chaos, but you focused on one. The only familiar voice in the room, the one now telling you to breathe, instructing your breaths as if you were a child.

His scent was less familiar. Once tinged with a dark-colored liquor, now only the faint stale smell of smoked cigarettes and a sheen of sweat invaded your senses, but above all, a deep, woody smell that you could never quite describe. Not cologne or aftershave, but something wholly natural. Something utterly Jim.

It was Jim.

The nurses surrounded you — ready to sedate you — but Hopper shooed them off, his grip only tightening as you clung to him, words babbling out of your mouth without much control as your weary, drug-addled brain tried to fight its way out of the fog. Stuttering, you couldn’t contain the tears that fell from your eyes when you finally realized you were safe. You’d lost consciousness in the back of Harrington’s car, but your night was foggy even before that, unable to fully recollect how you had got here, the fragmented memory of tonight only coming back in flashes.

Once your heart rate settled the nurses backed off, but Hopper continued to hold you, his own tears trailing down his cheeks and dropping onto the top of your head and for a long while, the room was filled with silence.

It was Hopper who eventually broke it, his voice gruff before he cleared his throat, “What the hell were you thinking, Kid?”

You didn’t reply, and he didn’t give you a chance to, “You could’ve been seriously hurt. God dammit, you were seriously hurt.”

Of course, he knew why you’d agreed to go with Nancy and Jonathan, the former explaining everything to him once her own parents had left the hospital. The monster would’ve been heading right for himself and Joyce, and they would've been completely unaware. You had to distract it, to lead it away. You were willing to sacrifice your safety for Will’s, Joyce’s, and his own.

In hindsight, it really was a terrible plan. Dangerous, too. But once you’d seen Joyce’s warm, brown gaze from your doorway the next morning, her bottom lip wobbling as she approached you slowly, you knew you’d do it again and again. Without question or hesitation, and despite any trepidation.

She had explained how Hopper and herself had found Will, that he had managed to find his way to Castle Byers — a den he and Jonathan had made the day their father left home for the last time — and was on the brink of death. How Hopper had revived him, and that the boy was now healing only a few rooms away.

Once he was well enough, Joyce wheeled him down to see you and despite her not wanting to leave his side, she entrusted you with him when she went home to shower and collect some more items for the boy. Plus, Jonathan wasn’t far from his side most of the time.

Will sat quietly coloring whilst you stared at the hospital door, waiting for the one person you wanted to see to walk in. But, as usual, you were left disappointed and embarrassed.

You couldn’t leave until a parent or guardian had signed you out, and you were already feeling nauseous about how much this visit was going to cost you.

Will and Jonathan had returned to the boy’s own room earlier — Will was still recovering and needed his rest — when the door handle of your room turned, your heart leaping to your throat in desperate hope.

Everyone you had expected to see had already visited you. Nancy had come by earlier that morning, the tension between herself and Jonathan almost palpable, awkward enough that you were prepared to leap from your 10th-story window just to get away from it.

You’d questioned the girl once Jonathan had left, but Nancy shrugged and told you Jonathan was focusing on his mother and brother right now, and she understood that. It was then you realized the one thing Nancy Wheeler couldn’t do was feign nonchalance.

It was the tall head of hair that pulled your brow into a frown, forehead wrinkling as you watched the boy almost timidly slip into your room with one hand behind his back before he settled on the uncomfortable chair that had been placed in your room per Hopper’s demand.

You watched him for a moment as he looked anywhere but your direction, discomfort evident on his face, and it took a solid two minutes before either of you spoke.

“Didn’t expect to see you here,” your voice was still a little gravely, and you watched as Steve picked up the cup of water from your bedside table, only to place it back when you shook your head.

One hand scratched the back of his neck as the other clung to a denim jacket, “I, uh… I didn’t know whether or not I should come. I mean, I didn’t think that you’d wanna see me.”

“And yet, here you are, Harrington.”

You didn’t mean to sound so standoffish, but this situation was still so surreal. If you’d been told just two weeks ago that Steve Harrington, of all people, would be visiting your bedside you would've slapped them silly. It wasn’t until you saw the dusty rose on his cheeks that you backtracked,

“I just… I didn’t expect to see you here.” His cheeks remained stained pink, but his eyes finally met yours.

“I didn’t know if I was actually gonna come,” he sent you a strained smile that didn’t quite reach his amber eyes, “Was even less sure that you’d actually want me here.”

Nodding, you couldn’t help but scan your gaze over his still bruised face, wondering what he’d told his parents about his injuries, or if they’d even been home to notice them.

“Why did you come back?”

Your question caused Steve’s dark eyes to dart away from you, eyebrows furrowed as if that night was the last thing he wanted to think about because he could still hear your blood-curdling scream when it was too quiet. Running his hand through his hair before scratching at the back of his neck again, Steve eventually met your eyes, “I uh… I was about to get in my car when I saw the lights flickering. I heard everyone yelling, and then I heard a scream...”

His voice trailed off as he peered up at you from underneath his lashes as if he was revealing some dark secret and wasn’t sure how you’d respond. Instead, you nodded, fingers playing with the rough hospital blanket,

“Thanks, Harrington. I owe you. And I’m sorry if I stained the back of your Beamer,” at his confusion, you continued, “Nancy told me that you drove me here. I’d offer to pay for the cleaning, but I think this place draining any savings that I already don’t have.”

You said it in jest, but Steve could see the underlying trepidation that you tried to repress.

“Yeah, don’t worry about it.”

You nodded as the room filled with silence, the repetitive sound of your heart monitor only adding to your restlessness. You were positive the noise was now embedded in your brain.

Steve’s thumb traced over a button on the jacket he was still clinging to, his heart stinging a little at the other girl’s name. After dropping Nancy home the first night, she hadn’t spoken to him. He had only tried to contact her once, Mrs. Wheeler letting him know she was busy, and Steve had realized he needed to give her time despite wanting nothing more than to drive to her house and apologize profusely. Instead, Steve had put all his efforts into this stupid, denim jacket.

As if the thought had prompted him to remember why he was here, he placed the jacket on the bed, ignoring your perplexed gaze, “I uh… I found this on the Byers' driveway. Kinda why I stopped, too.”

Unfolding the jacket, you couldn’t hold in the huff of laughter, gratitude pulling at the corners of your mouth.

Cheeks painted pink, the boy stuttered for a second, refusing to make eye contact, “I… I managed to get most of the blood out. My Mom only has Daz, I hope that’s okay-”

“Steve,” your voice stopped his babbling, his big, doe eyes gazing toward you, “Thank you.”

A moment’s silence passed between you both despite Steve’s mouth opening and closing a few times as though he was doing his best impression of a fish. You knew he was looking for the right words to say, but knowing Steve Harrington, it could take a while.

Before Steve managed to find those words, the door swung open a little too quickly, Hopper wandering in with a brown bag filled with what you presumed was lunch. His step halted as his eyes darted between yourself and the boy, watching with a furrowed brow as Steve stood up, brushing the nonexistent dirt from his hands onto his jeans.

“Chief,” an awkward smile pulled at his lips, much more of a grimace than anything else.

“Harrington.”

Hopper didn’t bother to move, forcing Steve to make his way around him instead after bidding farewell as he finally took his leave.

Once the door was closed, Hopper made his way toward you, reclaiming the chair Steve had just left, “Didn’t know you two were friends.”

Rolling your eyes, you released a petulant sigh, “We’re not, he was just dropping something off.”

It took Hopper a few seconds, but eventually, he muttered a half-assed reply before pulling out two sandwiches from the bag. He held the two options up, allowing you to pick which one you’d prefer before unwrapping his own.

Inhaling sharply, your hands gripped around the scratchy hospital gown as if that could stem the pain you felt as you tried to sit up.

“Hey, hey, hey! Go careful, or you’ll tear a stitch.”

“It hurts,” you grumbled, allowing Hopper to help you sit up a little despite his mouth being full of turkey and bread.

“Yeah, no shit. That’s what the drugs are for.”

“I know, but I’m not using any,” unwrapping your own sandwich, you picked at the crusts as Hopper sent you a sharp glare that you could only roll your eyes at, “Do you know how much they charge for that shit? Hop, I’m never going to be able to pay these bills, and the only reason the hospital hasn’t kicked me out on my ass yet is because of you.”

Swallowing down a bite of his sandwich, Hopper wiped the back of his hand over his mouth, brushing the crumbs onto your bed, not that you took much notice, “Kiddo… You need that pain medication. Don’t worry about anything else-”

“My Mom lost her job,” your previous hunger had all but vacated the building, leaving you to place your food back onto the Saran wrap, “and somehow, I don’t think my shitty part-time job at the arcade is gonna pay the bills. We can barely afford the heating in winter, these hospital bills are going to absolutely crush us.”

Hopper’s blue eyes met yours, hardened over the years but somehow still soft, “You ain’t paying for shit, Kid. It’s covered, don’t worry about it-”

“I am not taking money from you, Hop-”

“Relax, it’s not mine. There’s uh… Some people are gonna come meet us later. Scientists. They’re talking to everyone involved, already paying the Byers’ hospital bills… They’re paying for yours, too. So enjoy the free morphine and eat your damn sandwich.”

Turns out, Hopper wasn’t yanking your chain. Sam Owens — apparently the new director of operations at Hawkins’ lab — had personally visited you. He’d explained that the lab had all of your hospital bills paid for, as they did Will’s, and that you, along with everyone else involved, would need to sign an iron-clad NDA, and despite the almost feral urge to throw the money back in their face and refuse the help, you knew you had no say this time and so, your silence was bought.

The official story was simple. You had made your way to the Byers house when a bear attacked you. To your own ears, it sounded wildly ridiculous. Even your doctor seemed uncertain, but his questions were quickly cut off by an agitated Chief of Police.

Once given the all-clear, you were finally allowed to leave. Your mother was yet to return home, and instead, Hopper had signed you out despite the receptionist's complaints.

“Are you sure you want to stay here? Joyce said she could make up the sofa for you-”

“I’m not intruding on Mrs. Byers.”

Rubbing his hand over his beard, Hopper released a sigh, “She said it wasn't a problem. Or you could stay-”

“I am not sharing a one-bedroom cabin with you, Hop. Thank you for the offer, but it’s not happening. I know how loudly you snore.”

Although it didn’t sound very glamorous to the man himself, he still found his eyebrows pulling together in slight offense, “I just don’t feel comfortable with you being here alone-”

“My mom will be home eventually,” you waved a hand dismissively as you made your way up the rickety porch, happy to finally be home.

Hopper was close on your heels, almost running right into the back of you as you crossed the threshold, not really expecting the sight you saw, “I’m sure she will, but we don’t know when that’ll be... What’s wrong?”

“Nothing, I just… Has someone been here?” Looking around the lounge, the broken glass had been swept, the coffee table fixed, and it even looked as though someone had vacuumed. It was too much of a stretch to believe that your mother could’ve been here.

“Oh, yeah. That Wheeler girl grabbed you some clothes for me to bring in. Why?”

You were too ashamed to tell him the real reason, so instead, you sent him a shrug and continued into the small house as Hopper threw your backpack that held the few essential items Nancy had grabbed.

“I need to leave soon, but if you need anything-”

“I think ringing an emergency line would be frowned upon. Especially if Flo’s there.”

Annoyance evident on his face, Hopper huffed out a long sigh, “Well, don’t go calling it for a pizza or anything. But if you need me, I’ll be there until 6. You have my number for the cabin, right?”

Despite knowing the number by heart, your mother still kept the crumpled napkin that Hopper had used to scribble down his number when they were first reacquainted in a drawer in the kitchen.

“You’re good to go, Hop. I’ll be fine.”

Hesitating in the doorway for a second, he watched as you slowly made your way to the couch, cautiously laying yourself down as you pulled out a cigarette from an abandoned pack Nancy must’ve found under the sofa and grabbed the lighter left next to it.

“Those things will kill you, Kid.”

Waving a hand around, you sent him a smirk, “Looks like it’ll have to get in line.”

Sending an unamused glare, Hopper finally shut the door, his own cigarette already dangling from his mouth before he’d even reached his vehicle.

Your mother had returned home a few days later, unbothered and unaware of the events that had transpired since you’d last left. Apparently, she had met someone in a bar just outside of town, and the two had a whirlwind romance and decided to take a road trip to Minneapolis until they eventually grew sick of each other — or rather, sobered up — and she all but raced back.

She didn’t ask what had happened, and you had no intentions of telling her, either. If the bills were paid for, then she needn’t worry, and if she found your blood-soaked jeans in the trashcan, she never bothered to mention it.

You had seen Nancy a few times — both of you still haunted by the loss of Barb — and she had confided in you about how she’d heard Mike down in the basement, trying to contact Eleven every day since, hoping that she was out there somewhere. Eventually, she tried to contact Jonathan, but the boy always seemed busy. He was hesitant to let his brother out of sight, and you couldn’t find it in yourself to tell Nancy that the boy blamed himself for his brother’s disappearance, even now. He worked extra shifts to help his mother, but the two alternated, making sure someone was home. He was dropped at the Wheeler’s house for their DND nights and picked up, no longer allowed to ride his bike alone, especially at night.

At first, Will had thought that it was great having a personal chauffeur, but Jonathan had confided in you that he knew the boy had grown sick of the constant observations. In less than 4 months he would officially be a teenager, and Jonathan knew they couldn’t coddle him much longer. But he still saw the uncertainty storm in his mother’s dark eyes — the same expression he was sure he wore himself — whenever his brother left their sights, counting down the hours until she would be picking him up.

Only a month had passed, and life had seemingly returned to normal. Despite your mother losing her job at The Hideout, she had managed to score a Christmas temp job at Bradley’s Big Buy, and although it wasn’t the best-paying job in town, it paid more than her bartending and at least took the pressure off of you a little. Despite being told to take it easy, you had returned to school after only missing a week or so and went back to work acting as if nothing had ever happened. Keith agreed to swap a few shifts with you, covering your few days off if you worked over the Christmas period. Not that he had any parties to attend, but hey... Neither did you.

Jonathan had picked you up from the closing shift and offered you a ride home. After everything you’d risked for his family, he felt it was the least he could offer. He told you he had to stop off at the Wheeler’s house and pick up Will, and you knew it would be the first time he’d possibly run into Nancy. It wasn’t that he was actively avoiding her, but you knew that once rumors had surfaced around the school halls that Nancy and Steve were back on, the boy presumed things would return to normal. Steve — and Nancy, by association — were popular kids, and he was just… Jonathan Byers, the loner. And he was okay with that.

Mrs. Wheeler answered the door — one hand holding a glass of white wine and a dirty look sent her husband’s way — with eyebrows raised in surprise as she eyed you from the other side of the doorway. Jonathan had all but dragged you from the car once he’d seen Steve’s familiar burgundy BWM parked on the drive. You didn’t have the guts to tell him that you already knew about the teenagers getting back together. In fact, you seemingly helped push them back together.

Jonathan headed down to collect Will as you remained in the kitchen speaking to Nancy’s mother,

“I can give her a shout if you’d like? She’s only in the living room-”

Waving her off, you pulled your woolen beanie from your head and placed it on the counter, “Oh, no, really, it’s fine. I’m sure the boys won’t be long.”

Nodding, Mrs. Wheeler took a big gulp of her drink as she continued to sprinkle icing sugar over one of her many Christmas desserts. For a moment, you wondered if in another lifetime, another dimension, maybe your mother was a master baker, too. Maybe she’d whip up fresh apple pies in the summer, leaving them to cool on the window’s ledge, and in Fall, she’d make cinnamon rolls and pumpkin whoopie pies for all of your neighbors. You’d decorate the house in beautiful string lights — although that thought didn’t seem too comforting recently — and make DIY Christmas wreaths. You’d donate extra cans of food to those in need instead of being the ones to line up at the holiday canned food drive every Christmas and Thanksgiving.

But your mother wasn’t, so you didn’t, and despite your heart longing for a simple childhood, something a little softer, you had come to terms a long time ago that life had dealt you these cards. Yet you still couldn’t stem the bubbling jealousy under your skin that cooled into uncomfortable guilt as you looked around the Wheeler’s clean and spacious kitchen in their fancy house with their white picket fence family.

As if thinking of the girl drew her toward you, Nancy appeared in the kitchen doorway, almost as surprised to see you as you were her, despite it being her own house.

“Hey, when Jonathan comes back can you get him to hang on just a minute? I have something for him.”

Nodding, you watched as she jogged past you and disappeared up the stairs.

Rather than standing in the kitchen awkwardly with Mrs. Wheeler, you made your way toward the basement door, ready to call down to the boys. You could hear their faint giggling as your hand grabbed the door handle, and you decided to leave them be. Five more minutes with his friends — even if it were at your detriment — was the least Will deserved.

Your eyes skimmed past Nancy’s father, fast asleep in the armchair as you looked over their decorations, the stockings hanging above the fireplace, no doubt embroidered with each of their names, the cards from friends and family and neighbors delicately placed with precision.

Someone clearing their throat caused you to jump a little, forced out of your own head before you began to spiral too deep.

Your eyes darted toward the sound, meeting Steve’s. The boy had been quietly watching you trace the room with wistful eyes and decided to make his way over to you.

“Jesus, that’s a fashion choice.” You joked, wishing you could suck the words right back into your throat when his cheeks began to redden, his hand scratching at the back of his neck as he looked at your attire.

“Who are you dressed as? Scrooge?”

You looked down toward your — albeit, all black — outfit, brows pulled together before glaring at the boy, his own eyes sparkling with a hint of mischief, which only made your frown deepen.

“Well, excuse me for not feeling all that festive this year.”

The silence that fell between you was uncomfortable, and the heat radiating from the warm kitchen made you want to tug at your collar.

“How is… you know… that?” Steve asked, his eyes darting toward your stomach for just a second.

Swallowing the same lump that formed every time you saw or felt the ghastly, puckered skin across your stomach, you shrugged, eyes looking anywhere but at the boy. You’d seen the people he hung out with, the girls he’d dated. Steve Harrington was shallow, as most high school boys were, and you weren’t about to let him in on how grotesque your new scar made you feel.

“It’s fine. Doctors said it's healing well, so nothing to write home about.”

For a moment, Steve pondered whether you’d even told your mother what had happened or if she knew about the ‘bear attack’ that had left you pouring blood in the back of his BMW. About the probable scar that you buried under layers of clothes. He hadn’t uttered a word to his own parents, merely heading upstairs and shutting himself away in his room for the evening when he heard his mother mention it on the phone to one of her friends.

But secrets didn’t stay secret for very long in a town as quaint as Hawkins, and despite being in totally different friendship groups growing up, even Steve was aware of your turbulent upbringing. Your father left unexpectedly after the death of your sibling, and your mother has an attachment to a certain Mr. Jack Daniels.

His mother wasn’t one to gossip — or so she’d tell her friends during her wine and book club — but your mother had a reputation around town. For however long she could remain sober, she’d spend twice as long stumbling around town drunk.

'It won’t be long until she’s chanting that it’s the end of the world like her crazy mother,’ he’d once overheard her say before downing her glass of white wine and inspecting the clock, waiting for her husband to come home with barely visible lipstick staining his shirt collar, and smelling faintly of a floral perfume that didn’t belong to her.

Steve knew firsthand that everyone had secrets.

“I uh… I wanted to thank you, by the way,” Steve hesitated, taking a moment to run his hand through his hair, “Nance told me what you said to her at the hospital. About how you knew it wasn’t me who spray painted the marquee.”

Brows pinching together, you watched the boy quietly for a moment as he struggled in your silence before eventually putting him out of his misery, “I hope she still gave you shit for hanging around whilst your friends did it.”

“She did. Trust me. And I went back that day and washed it off. I just… I wanted to know why. I mean, how did you even know I didn’t do it?”

Shrugging, your eyes met the TV as you feigned an interest in the silenced TV advert, “Wasn’t your handwriting.”

The boy’s face scrunched in confusion as your eyes widened slightly, realizing how it sounded, “Jesus, Harrington. I’m not like, a stalker or anything. I just… Last year, I did something kind of stupid, and Tommy spray-painted my locker. I recognized his handwriting.”

Steve tried to rack his brain, only slightly remembering the rumor that had spread quickly around the school.

It had started at a party — the first and last that you had attended so far in high school — and you’d gotten a little too drunk, leading you to get a little too friendly with a boy named Reed. He was on the school's wrestling team and in Steve’s grade, but the boy didn’t know him all that well. The rumor that you’d slept with him went around school for a few days until the next big story broke. But Steve couldn’t remember Tommy defacing your locker. Then again, there weren’t enough hours in the day to remember all the times Tommy and Carol had involved themselves in gossip that had nothing to do with them.

“-Bitch doesn’t quite have the same impact when it’s missing the T, so… Yeah. That’s how I knew.”

Steve nodded slowly, his eyes watching you with an expression you’d never seen come from the boy before. Your skin felt too hot and itchy when you realized it was probably a look of pity.

“Ready to go?”

Jonathan’s voice broke the tension, both you and Steve were suddenly much more interested in the carpeted floor in the Wheeler’s living room than each other. Before you could answer him, you heard Nancy return downstairs, a wrapped gift in her hands as she led the eldest Byers sibling away for a moment, Will remaining by your side as you turned your attention to him.

Steve remained in the doorway, silently watching as you spoke to the younger boy. A little under two months ago, and Steve wouldn’t have been able to pick Will out of a lineup. He didn’t care about his disappearance, barely giving his missing posters more than a glance. He didn’t stop for a second to think how the boy being missing had affected anyone. Not Mrs. Byers, nor Jonathan. Not you. Not even Nancy.

Your conversation with Will was cut short as Nancy returned, her cheeks speckled with a light pink dusting and a smile tugging at the corner of her lips as she passed by.

“You ready?” Jonathan asked, dark eyes meeting those of his brother, his own cheeks warmed under the soft lightening of the hallway.

“Yeah.”

You followed after them, wishing Mrs. Wheeler a Merry Christmas as you passed back through the kitchen, hot on Jonathan’s heels.

You’d only made it halfway down the drive when you heard Steve’s voice again, calling out your name. The boy stood in the doorway with his arm around Nancy, watching you ruffle Will’s hair gently.

“Is it really that bad?”

He didn’t divulge any further, despite the perplexed looks he received from everyone else, including his girlfriend, as his grin pulled up on one side, causing your grin to try and force its way across your lips.

Taking one last look at his atrocity of a Christmas sweater, you laughed silently and began to walk backward, heedless to the ice that lined the sidewalks and streets, “The absolute worst, Harrington. Merry Christmas.”

Jonathan had extended the offer of dinner at his house on his mother’s behalf, but you had begrudgingly declined, not wanting to intrude on the family’s meal. So instead, the boy dropped you home, but not until you and Will forced him to open his gift from Nancy.

The Pentax camera was brand new and much better than his old one. A part of you knew that despite Nancy never having to go without, Steve definitely would’ve had to put a decent chunk of money down for her to afford the gift.

The old Ford pulled onto the gravel outside your house, and the headlights lit up a sight you were shocked to see.

“Is that-”

“No,” you shook your head, peering through the windshield as if you'd see better, “No, it’s not. Look, I’ll uh… I’ll talk to you later, alright? Tell your Mom Merry Christmas for me.”

You didn’t wait around for the boy’s response, and despite being unsure whether or not to leave, Jonathan knew his mother would be stressing over the stove, so he did as you asked, driving back home for the evening.

Slowly, as if it could attack you on sight, you made your way toward the front of your house, staring at the bike that leaned against it, a red bow stuck to the front. It couldn’t have been your old bike, that was lost to the claws and teeth of the Demogorgon last month, damaged beyond repair. This bike was new, with no rust whatsoever, and a black helmet hung from a handlebar.

Ripping both the bow and helmet off, you dumped them onto your lawn, the falling snow seeping into them slowly as you jumped on, darting towards downtown.

Hopper threw some chicken tenders into his Tupperware container, cigarette hanging from his mouth, all but ready to leave. Tonight was the annual Christmas Eve party, and he’d shown his face for a while, but he had other, more important plans.

“You leaving already, Chief?” Powell questioned, his own plate filled high with finger foods.

“Oh, come on, you think I actually wanted to come to this thing? I was just hungry,” Jim told them in jest.

“Oh yeah, that’s the spirit.”

Jim made his way back out through the room, coming to a stop when Florence blocked his exit.

Taking the cigarette from his mouth with the glare of a mother, she let out a sigh and nodded her head to the side, “You have a visitor.”

Brows furrowed, Jim looked behind the older woman and spotted you standing by the door, jaw clenched and arms folded in front of you. Before he could leave, Flo patted his chest and wished him a Merry Christmas.

“What’s wrong, Kid?” Hopper asked as he approached you, much like he would a wounded animal.

“Take it back,” you told him harshly, swallowing down a ball of anger mixed with a tinge of regret, “I don’t need a pity gift, Hopper. And I know it was you. So just... Take it back.”

You turned and pushed through the door, more than willing to walk the long distance home, when the door swung behind you, the large man blocking the light as he made his way out, Tupperware container still in hand,

“Did you even wear the helmet when you rode down here? Jesus Christ, Kid. I’ll superglue it to your head next time I see you without it-”

“There won’t be a next time because I’m not taking it. So return it, donate it, do whatever. I don’t care.”

A large sigh fell from his mouth, and Jim had to try his best to dampen his temper, “It wasn’t a pity gift, or whatever you said. It’s a Christmas present. Simple as that.”

“Should I ring the ‘Hawkins Post’? Let them know you're gonna be flying around in a police cruiser handing out presents tonight? A real-life Santa, right here in Hawkins, Indiana? Who’d have thought!”

You turned around, strolling past the bike and across the parking lot. Your spiteful words left the bitter aftertaste of acid on your tongue, but you pressed on, stomping through the snow.

You heard Hopper open a car door, seemingly heaving the bike into the back before the door slammed, and he was on your tail. A hand wrapped around your elbow, stopping you in your tracks despite the lack of force behind it.

“If you wanna argue about this, then fine. But get in the car, and we can do it there.”

“I don’t want to argue, Hop. I wanna go home.”

Squeezing his eyes shut, Jim took a moment to calm himself, wishing Flo hadn’t taken his cigarette, “Fine. Just get in.”

Hopper made his way to his vehicle, leaving you to weigh up your options for just a moment. You could walk back home, past the woods that still haunted your dreams most nights, or you could put up with him for 10 miserable minutes and be back home in your somewhat warm, somewhat safe house.

With your decision made, you kicked up snow as you made your way to his car, only half slamming the door when you were settled, ignoring Hopper’s side eye for doing so.

“You hungry?” He asked, eyes remaining on the road as he nodded toward the container.

“No.”

Rolling his eyes, Hopper’s fingers itched for another smoke, but he kept his hands firmly on the steering wheel instead, “I know you well enough to know you’re only this crabby when you haven’t eaten properly-”

“I’m not crabby, Hop. God.”

Remaining silent for a moment, Hopper swallowed down his annoyance, “The hell you angry for, then? I’m the one who bought the damn thing, and you’re acting like a spoiled brat who didn’t get the color they wanted.”

“I’m embarrassed, okay?!”

Hopper felt his face drop as he lifted his hand to run over his beard. He really didn’t think this through. “You haven’t got to feel embarrassed, alright? It’s just me. And it’s just a bike. If you feel that strongly, I’ll take it back. But I didn’t get it for you because I pity you. Your old one got chewed up and spat out — literally — and I just wanted… I thought maybe it could make up for all the shit that’s happened.”

Unclenching your aching jaw, you watched the man closely for a moment as guilt pooled in his eyes, “None of that was your fault, Hop. The world tore itself a new asshole, and a monster crawled through. You weren’t to blame for-”

“-I don’t mean that shit,” he sighed, eyes now avoiding you like the plague, “I mean everything before. Everything with your Mom and… leaving. Leaving you there with her.”

The silence between you two grew with guilt and awkwardness, choking you both from the inside out.

“It isn’t your place to worry about that.”

“I worry about you,” he sighed, knuckles whitening as he clenched his hands over the steering wheel, “I knew that shit wasn’t right, and I still packed up and left.”

“You’re not my dad, Hop. If he doesn’t feel guilty about leaving, neither should you-”

“Yeah, well, your dad’s an asshole.

Unable to stifle the small laugh that fell from your lips, you nodded in agreement, “Yeah, he is.”

Despite a weight being lifted from his shoulders, Jim couldn’t help the tinge of guilt he still felt — and probably always would feel — when he looked at you, his cornflower blue eyes watching your hands as they fiddled with the threads of your jacket sleeves.

“I wasn’t ready, you know? I’d been back a year, and it had only been two since…” Clearing his throat, Jim forced himself to continue, “Since I lost Sara. I didn’t know what I was doing, but I shouldn’t have been involved with anyone. Especially someone with a child.”

Hopper didn’t want to admit it, but he hadn’t intended on staying with your mother for as long as he did. Sure, she was fun to drink with back then, but he hadn’t planned on it lasting longer than the night. Then that morning, as he shuffled into your cramped kitchen, mind foggy with lack of sleep and most likely still a little drunk, he came across a 12-year-old you, perched at the breakfast table eating no more than a handful of stale cornflakes, sans the milk.

You’d looked him over, one brow lifted slightly in contempt — an expression he still witnessed to this day — as you moved past him, grabbing your threadbare backpack from the floor. You didn’t utter a single word, nor did you spare him a second glance as you left for school.

It would’ve been so easy to leave and never look back. But the next thing he knew, he was in 'Bradley’s Big Buy' throwing a box of ‘Frosted Flakes’ into his basket, along with a carton of milk. When he’d bumped into you the next morning, once again sat at the table, spoon hanging from your mouth as you looked up from your bowl, you remained silent. It wasn’t until you placed your bowl in the sink — knowing full well it would still be there when you returned home from school — that you uttered your first words to him as you took your leave,

“Coffee’s in the pot.”

He should’ve left when it was easy. But Hopper’s heart was broken and bruised, and he was nothing if not sadistic. He’d grown attached, knowing full well that he wouldn’t be able to remain in your life and that you wouldn’t ever fix the hole in his entire being that losing Sara had caused, just as his being there hadn’t healed the ever-lasting pain that having a parent walk out had caused. But for a while, the bandages held in place, allowing you both to bond and soften the chipped parts of your souls.

“When I lost Sara… I didn’t think I’d ever get another chance, you know? Hell, I didn’t want one, anyway. I lost my baby girl, and nothing in this world could’ve replaced that, you know? But shit, Kid… You come pretty damn close.”

His eyes met yours as he pulled to the side of the road, eventually turning the engine off, “I’m sorry for a lot, you know? I’m sorry I forced my way into your life when I knew I wouldn’t be able to stay, and I’m sorry for not believing you when all this shit started to happen. I’m sorry for the shitty cards you’ve been dealt in life. But I don’t pity you alright? Shit, you risked your life for a kid you barely know. I think you’re brave, and fuckin’ stupid sometimes, but… I think the world of you, Kid. Always have, and always will. No matter what dumbass thing you do next.”

Sniffling, you could feel his eyes boring into the side of your face as you turned away, wiping your nose.

“You alright over there?” He asked, eyes a little teary himself, not that he'd ever admit that to you.

Shrugging, you cleared your throat, “Flu season, right?”

You heard a soft laugh fall from his mouth as the man undid his seatbelt, reaching over to grab the container from the dashboard before he opened his door, “C’mon, we haven’t got all night.”

Ripping your seatbelt off, you followed the man, confusion written all over your face, “Where the hell are we going? You got a new hobby feeding the wildlife or something?”

Hopper passed you the container of food as he turned on his flashlight, making his way into the woods as you followed, practically on his heel. You both remained silent during the short walk, your footprints in the soft snow being the only indicator that you were even there until Hopper opened a lockbox. Taking the container from you, he placed it in before pulling something from his pocket — you were pretty sure it was two Eggo waffles, wrapped in Saran wrap — and placed it on top. Closing the box, Hopper took a moment to look around the woods before standing up. He didn’t utter a single word until you were back in the car, driving towards your home.

“You think she’s gonna come back?”

Shrugging, Hopper took off his hat, “I don’t even know if she can.”

You sent him a small, genuine smile, “If she can, she will.”

“You sound awfully optimistic.” Hopper couldn’t deny that he, too, hoped Eleven could… hoped she would come back.

Shrugging, you pulled your jacket closer around you as you turned up the radio, the bass of The Waitresses ‘Christmas Wrapping’ filling the short ride home.

Pulling up outside your house, Jim noticed the lack of Christmas decorations — something that wasn’t abnormal in your home — but decided not to comment on it. Your mother’s car was haphazardly parked on the driveway, and despite knowing you wouldn’t be alone in the house, it didn’t help him feel any more at ease.

“You gonna be alright on your own tonight?”

Your question caught him off-guard, halting his actions as he was half out of the car, “I’ll be fine, don’t worry about me. Got some beer at home, and CBS is showing re-runs of ‘Dukes of Hazard’ all night.”

Rolling your eyes, you closed his door — this time much more gently — and watched as he pulled the bike out of the backseat. Pushing it toward you, he watched as you apprehensively took it. Hopper's eyes softened as he pulled you into a hug, the heat from his body and jacket swamping you for a moment in all the best ways.

You heard the front door open and your mother's footsteps as she stepped onto the porch. Calling your name, she watched as Hopper placed a gentle, barely there kiss on the top of your head. You could hear the porch creak under her as she shuffled slightly, calling your name once more, only this time a little more firmly,

“Time to come in now.”

Pulling away from the man, you began to push your bike toward the porch where you’d leave it out of the snow. A call of your name — this time in the other direction — stopped you in your tracks, and you watched as Hopper tipped his hat slightly to your mother. She rolled her eyes, but backed up into the doorway a little — her half-assed attempt at giving you privacy.

“Wear your damn helmet next time, alright?”

Rolling your eyes, you quickly found the helmet covered in snow, grabbing it and wrapping it over the handlebars.

Hopper returned to his car, waiting until you were safely inside before pulling away.

This year, Christmas Eve hadn’t been the worst. Your mother — as usual — had drank a little more than she should’ve, her questions surrounding Hopper turning into a borderline inquisition, but eventually, she wandered off into the living room, glass of brandy in her hand as you prepared some boxed Mac’n’Cheese.

By the time you were finished, she’d fallen asleep, sprawled out on the sofa as the TV blared. Grabbing the duvet from her room, you placed it over her and took her now empty glass to wash up.

The clock had struck 12am before you knew it and despite the need to sleep nipping at your heels, you remained steadfast in your search. You’d pulled out the few clothes you had that no longer fit you, checking through the size tags before making a small pile of ones that were decent enough.

If Hopper believed that Eleven could come back, you would make sure she had something to come back to. Telekinetic powers or not, she’d freeze to death in the bitter, unforgiving winters of the Midwest.

A quiet knock at your front door halted your actions, an old jacket held halfway to a pile. Waiting for a few seconds, you heard no other noise and continued to fold the clothes, until you heard another — slightly louder — knock.

Cautiously making your way toward the front door, you took a deep breath before tugging the door open, cringing as it creaked loudly.

Steve stood, hand raised in the air as if to knock again, honey-colored eyes wide as if he didn’t expect the door to be answered at this time of night, despite knocking twice.

“Harrington? What the hell are you doing here?” You whispered, eyes darting around behind him as if you expected his gang of idiots to pop up behind his car and pelt you with snowballs.

The boy looked unsure, following your suspicious glances behind him, “I, uh-”

Eyes widening, you shushed him before turning, watching your mother stir slightly from his voice in the all too quiet house. Stepping out into the cold night air, you closed the door behind you, hoping the mechanism wouldn’t jam and lock you out.

Steve stepped back a moment too late — your body bumping into his to make room — and caused a loud creak on the unsteady porch, causing you both to wince. Looking up toward you with a feeble smile painted on his face, he apologized quietly.

“I just came by to bring you this. You left it at Nancy’s.”

Pulling your hat out of his coat pocket, you carefully took it from him, holding it in a tight grip in hopes it would warm your already chilled fingers, “You really didn’t have to drive all the way out here just to give it back to me, but... Thanks.”

The boy nodded, both his hands shoved into his pockets, ignoring the snowflakes that had yet to melt from his hair, “It’s cool.”

You both stood for a moment, equally unsure as to what to say or do next. Being cordial with someone like Steve didn’t come naturally to you, but the boy was clearly making an effort, and for now, you would too.

“You know, if you’re not asleep when Father Christmas comes, he won’t leave you any presents.”

A cloud of air fell from the boys mouth along with his soft laugh, “Yeah well, I’m not sure I deserve much more than coal this year.”

Pulling your bottom lip into your mouth and biting down on it for a moment, you tried to keep your opinion to yourself, “I mean, you were an asshole for a solid 70% of the year.”

“Giving me a whole 30%? Someones in a good mood.”

Shrugging, you tried to keep the smile from your face, “I mean, it’s the holidays. It’s all about charity and giving, right?”

Scoffing slightly, Steve rocked on the balls of his feet, stopping quickly when the porch groaned under his weight, “So I’ve heard.”

A cold wind blew through, rattling the front door and causing a burst of goosebumps to cover your skin. Pajamas really weren’t outdoor clothes. Steve watched as you shivered slightly and decided to take his leave, but before he could excuse himself, you caught him off guard,

“Won’t your parents be wondering where you are?”

This time, his scoff seemed much less friendly, “Yeah, I doubt they even knew I left. They, uh... They have their annual Harrington Christmas Eve party. Not really my kind of thing, I guess.”

“Free alcohol and rich folks having pissing contests. Thought that would’ve been right up there on your list of things you enjoy.”

Despite his hands still being firmly pressed in his pockets, his fingers twitched with the desire to tug at his hair, “Oh yeah, it’s a ball.”

This time you were unable to hide the broad smile that split across your face, shoulders shaking slightly from a silent laugh. It felt weird to know that Steve Harrington of all people didn’t feel at home in his own house. Your skin felt itchy and hot, and you yearned to rip it from the bone as if you knew a secret about the boy that you probably shouldn’t.

It wasn’t unknown that the Harrington’s were away often, that’s how Steve had managed to throw so many parties over the years. But not knowing if he preferred it that way or not — something even he was unsure of — made you feel uncomfortably connected to the boy.

“Is your mom…”

“Asleep on the couch, half a bottle of brandy in. Just like every other day ending in a Y.”

Steve nodded, “Right. I uh, I should go.”

You watched as Steve made his way down the driveway toward his car, his hand finally reaching up to his mop of hair to ruffle the snow from it. Before he could get in the car, you called his name, one last time,

“Merry Christmas, Harrington.”

“Merry Christmas.”

#steve harrington fanfic #steve harrington fanfiction #steve harrington x reader #stranger things fanfiction #steve harrington x you #stranger things fanfic #stranger things fic #steve harrington fic #steve harrington smut

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rosaline-black · 2 years

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𝑱𝒖𝒙𝒕𝒂𝒑𝒐𝒔𝒆 - 𝑪𝒉𝒂𝒑𝒕𝒆𝒓 𝟑

A/n: so this chapter does hint towards Katherine’s past, and Severus is pretty mean! I hope yous enjoy :)

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"Professor Snape I have a question...?"

Katherine was holding her breath the moment she addressed her mentor. It had been a few days now of ordering and cleaning like Snape's personal maid, and Katherine had finally finished. Throughout this time the two had only spoken brief words, as Katherine forced a smile and Severus glared at her any chance he got. She was there to help him, assist with his lesson plans and do anything she could to support his teaching, but right now she was essentially serving detention.

Her heart stopped when he looked up and his eyes circled in on her face like he was mentally scrutinising every little detail about her. She felt like a child again, a child who was about to get told off.

"And that was..." he drawled his eyes still refusing to leave her face.

Katherine cleared her throat and began to speak "I have finished the tasks you set, and I was wondering if I could assist you with some lesson plans? Or possibly discuss my roles as your assistant-"

"I'm going to stop you right there..." Severus raised one finger to silence her before continuing "You are not my teaching assistant... you are my apprentice; an apprentice is supposed to do as I say and do the jobs I request when I request them... I am more than capable of providing lesson plans alone..."

Katherine watched as Professor Snape looked back down at his work as if she wasn't even there. It was insulting and truthfully, she was mixed between wanting to burst into tears and scream in his face. However, her grandmother didn't teach her to fly off the handle, so Katherine simply pulled out a smile and decided to speak her mind as calmly as possible.

"Okay Professor, would you be open to showing me the lesson plans you have written? It could be beneficial for me to know what the students will be taught when they arrive tomorrow"

Severus returned his eyes to her face and raised a questioning brow, he seemed almost insulted at the suggestion of nurturing her presence "no I wouldn't..."

For the first time since arriving Katherine truly lost her cool. Before she could stop herself a scoff left her mouth and her freckled cheeks heated to a cherry red "Something you would like to share miss Orchard?"

With a shake of her head the dam of emotions Katherine had held back for the past week finally caved in "Well there are many things id like to share... I understand me being here may not be something you want to encourage, but I am here for a reason, and right now you are only proving that you are not capable of being a good teacher..."

The silence that followed Katherine's outburst was something she never wanted to experience ever again. She rarely shouted or complained but this man knew exactly what to do to get right under her skin. She was ashamed of herself for letting someone do that to her and before she could rush to apologise, he had already started speaking again.

"And could you tell me what that reason is? Because from looking over your file, your grades were good but nothing exceptional, your lack of experience is shown through the lack of employment after leaving Hogwarts. So, tell me Miss Orchard, what makes you so exceptional? By the looks of it your nothing more than a try-hard failure who had to wind up back at her old school to get any kind of employment..."

Katherine choked on a gasp, and a million horrible memories began to resurface in the forefront of her mind. All of the events that had taken place after leaving school felt like they were on a slideshow presentation right in front of her, and the only thing she could think to do was run. Flee the room and flee the ghastly man who had not only insulted her intelligence but insulted her personally. Of course, dumbledore hadn't told her new mentor about her past, why would he. The stuff she had endured would make anybody pity her, and she didn't want pity. She wanted respect.

Maybe he had gone too far this time

Maybe he had gone too far this time. Hed had never quite seen somebody freeze up like that in his presence before. Of course, students feared him. He was the least approachable and welcoming of professors, so he saw the teens he taught fear him, but never with that face. The face of somebody who was haunted by a past, that was something he could relate to all too well.

When he became a death eater, it felt like the only way he could be accepted. Nobody had ever accepted him before. At school he was the boy girls never took a fancy to and that boys picked on, he was academically inclined, but teachers never took a shine to him. At home, he was a burden to his father who would pray for a normal son. A son who could get a normal job and provide for himself and his mother. That was something his father never did. So, when a group of people told him he was worthy, that he was good for something, he clung to that until it was too late. Until his eyes were opened to the sickness he had welcomed with open arms. Until his beloved had been murdered.

And now here he sat, miserable, in debt to the most powerful wizard of a generation, and worst of all, bullying an innocent woman because of something she had no control over. Sadistically impressive for a twenty-five-year-old.

He was too stubborn to outright apologise to his apprentice. But maybe he could try and use her to the best of his ability, he knew she had knowledge. And although Dumbledore was bothersome, Severus did trust him, and that man did hire her. Why? That he still didn't quite understand. But something told him that if he stuck with the curly-haired witch, maybe just maybe he would find out.

Katherine wiped at the black ink that rested below her round blue eyes. She felt like a complete failure. It had been five days on the job, and he had already broken her. The only thing she could think of doing right now was curling up next to her grandmother on the sofa and letting her play with her hair just like she used to when she was a child. Katherine had grown up for the first few years of her life living with her mother, her father wasn't in the picture from the beginning and Katherine assumed that's why her mother fell victim to drugs in the end.

Her grandmother took her in and brought her up, she was there when Katherine got accepted into Hogwarts when she graduated and sadly more recently when she was at her lowest. Although she didn't understand. Katherine's grandmother had been diagnosed with dementia a couple of years ago, it had been tough balancing her trauma from her own life and then having to put her grandmother into an elderly care home.

She no longer had her elderly companion to share the cottage with, the cottage she’d grown up in. Getting the position at Hogwarts was exactly what she needed after all of that. Being away from the cottage felt like a blessing but after what her supposed mentor had just done, it felt more like a curse.

Her eyes were red and sore, she looked pathetic. Should she leave? Was this worth it? Being treated like scum by another man just under different circumstances would not be something she could handle. Then again she could hear the scolding from juniper and her grandmother already. You're just going to let him win? You're just going to back out when the going gets tough?

"Buck up Kath..." she whispered to herself, before forcing the same smile, this time it looked disingenuous but for dinner time in the great hall it would do.

Unlike before Katherine was one of the last people to make it to dinner. She could feel eyes on her but refused to remove her bloodshot eyes from her heels. She sat in the only free seat available and when her eyes met the chair it just so happened to be beside the man who had made her sob uncontrollably for the past few hours. They made eye contact for a split second, but she embarrassingly cowered under his gaze.

Throughout dinner, Katherine ate her meal quietly, on the other side of her sat Minerva McGonagall who she could tell was itching to see if she was alright. It seemed most of the female staff could sniff out people in need like bloodhounds, and Minerva was no exception.

"Everything alright dear?" her Scottish accent called out.

"Yes... I'm well, thank you..." Katherine replied meekly. She wanted to escape this situation as fast as possible and get into bed. Sleep could fix most things. With a polite nod of her head, Katherine left the hall after just a brief stay. She was yet to notice the footsteps which were following behind her down the lightly lit corridor.

"Miss Orchard, may I speak with you?"

Was she imagining things? That sounded unmistakeably like the brooding potions professor. Katherine turned her short body around and there he stood. Looking right at her with his usual furrowed brow and tight-lipped sneer.

"I don't think there's anything more you could say... you made your feelings towards me being here very clear Professor..."

"I... tomorrow I will give you a copy of the lesson plans, you will be assisting in my first and third-year classes... that is if you want to resume your apprentice position..."

Katherine's eyes widened at his sudden change of heart. And without missing a beat she replied

"ill be there"

#harry potter #severus snape fanfiction #severus snape x original character #severus snape x oc #severus snape x reader #Severus snape #snape x oc

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legacyofacat · 6 months

Text

[14] Where Your Core Rests (Kongō x Reader)

Can also be found on Ao3, Wattpad, FanFiction.net and DA.

First Last

We are at the end!

I'm thankful for all the support I was shown, though, and hope that I brought you joy with that little story of mine!

Maybe we'll see each other again on my next story <3

Where Our Hearts Lie

Kongō sat beside her human, Arizona and the Old Man opposite of them, steaming cups of tea in front of each member and utter confusion in the very air.

Arizona looked like she was the one having the hardest time coming to terms with… whatever the shit this was.

Old Man stood up to get some snacks from Arizona's kitchen, petting her head when passing her Mental Model and making it blush.

Sniffing a chance, the other human addressed Arizona: "What?"

"I don't know I don't know I don't know…"

"Don't get yourself worked up!", they backpedalled immediately in fear of the next fight starting, "It's fine! I'm happy we were able to resolve this peacefully in the end!"

Ringgold, having suffered quite a good beating from Nagara (who clicked cheekily), gave a depressed string of clicks – she was ignored.

"I still got one question, though?"

Arizona nodded with a heavy sigh. Whatever, it didn't matter anymore anyway.

"Why was Nagara's Core in the attic?"

"I forgot that I had her."

"I'm sorry, you what?", Kongō interrupted.

She bristled: "I forgot that I had her", then she blushed, "I found her again when reorganising some documents."

And then panicked but she was not going to reveal this.

"Because I was already living together with the Old Man by then, I couldn't exactly bring her back and had to get her out of the house – so I spread rumours and hoped for thieves to find her and take her away."

That seemed like the only part of her plan that actually worked.

Kongō took a sip from her tea: "Why did you attack us?"

If she wanted to get Nagara out of the house so that she wouldn't attract trouble for the Old Man, then it was illogical to engage them in battle.

"They brought you back, then you dared to come back a second time."

Simply put, it brought all the pain and rage back to the surface and made it finally erupt.

The blonde looked at her silently for some time, then returned to her tea when steps sounded from behind.

Old Man, bouncing over like a damn child, placed little sandwiches before the girls and then continued to sit down again, slapping his hands on his thighs: "So, since when are you two married?"

"MPF-!", the human choked on their tea, giving Luigi the chance to steal one of the snacks while Kongō suddenly stopped moving altogether in an effort to not end up like her companion.

Since the other was still busy dying, Kongō unfroze herself, sat down her cup elegantly and said: "We're not married."

He wasn't believing her, instead giving a knowing smile and an "of course".

What's with that smile!?, the girls thought.

Kongō looked at her not-spouse: "Are you alive?"

"I appreciate", a half-dead inhale of fresh air, "how none of you even attempted to stop the cat."

"Were we supposed to?", that damn smirk again!

They gave her a look, deciding that she wasn't worth a response.

Luigi at least had the conscience to look apologetic even if he definitely wasn't.

"How did you two meet my Ari?", Old Man dared to open his happy mouth again while tugging Arizona into his side, making her blush and give a startled sound.

"The fleet", Kongō half-lied.

"Yes!", Arizona jumped into action, "we met through the fleet. Long ago. It was time to visit, right? Haha…"

Please never lie again, that was such a bad performance that the human's very shitty lying ability suddenly seemed capable of winning an Oscar.

"But! They have to go now!"

He looked legitimately sad: "Oh, why?"

Arizona's eyes flitted over to Kongō as if saying "this is your fault, get us out of it!".

It wasn’t her fault, but the whole experience was so strange that leaping over her shadow was a lower effort than continuing to withstand this conversation: "My sisters await me."

"Lui's got an appointment for his yearly check-up as well", the human supported, "it would be sad for the food to go to waste though…"

Arizona and Kongō almost had the 3rd most shocking moments of their lives.

One thought this:

It's made from nanomaterial! Don't you know how old people are!? He'll never let you leave!

The other this:

Don't say that! I thought you wanted to leave too!?

Fortunately, the Old Man reacted swiftly, put around half of the food in a little lunchbox and handed it over so that the guests found themselves slumped over back on Kongō’s deck soon.

"Human…", Kongō drawled in warning.

Said human merely beamed at their free food: "I won't have to steal food tonight~"

Kongō glared at the box now: "I can make you food too."

"Yep, but if I get it for free you won't have to work, right?", they walked away with a jump in their step, humming some random melody happily, "I'll be putting this in the storage~"

She followed after them with something that would’ve been a pout on anyone else, hovering near.

The human didn't pay any mind to it, busy with keeping Luigi from making them drop their well-earned earnings.

When they finally noticed Kongō's proud self following after them while turning a corner (almost resulting in a heart attack), they started talking about the first thing that came to mind: "That was some wild goosechase we went on, huh? I'm glad that it ended though, even if it ended up being quite uneventful in the end."

"Are you disappointed?"

They almost snorted: "By the end? No", they blushed a bit, "being inside a battle is not really exciting, you know. Ah! For a ship like you it might be – I'm sure it was a good exercise for you."

It had been fun, if she were honest. The sea was calm now, as it should be, but Kongō did miss the chance to… stretch her limbs, in a way.

"It was."

"I can imagine!", they finally stored the food away without losing anything to Luigi, "I'm honestly missing stealing things too."

Kongō gave an amused huff.

That certainly wasn't a good thing to miss either, but it had been a good deal of fun from time to time.

They gave a nervous laugh: "Don't tell that to the police, please."

"Don't worry, I will bail you out."

With what money!?, they thought, but turned around to smile at Kongō, "What are we gonna do now, Ojō-sama?"

"Hm?", she cocked her head cutely.

A blush was creeping up on their cheeks, they could sense it and cursed Kongō for it: if she wasn't being cool then she was unfairly cute and both weren't good for their heart!

"W-well! We don’t have a bigger goal anymore, so I was wondering what we were going to do now?"

"Hmmm", Kongō said again, arms crossed, "may I try something?"

"Uh", a blink, "sure?"

Kongō took a few steps forwards, gently nudged Luigi out of the way and hugged her human tightly, breathing into their neck.

They turned into a frozen tomato instantly: "O-ojō-sama!? What are you doing!?"

"You're warm", she said smiling, no doubt pleased with herself.

"It's not like you're ice cold!", her Union Core produced warmth! Really!

"I'm not simulating metabolistic functions."

True, but you're still not cold!

"Uhm", they returned her hug hesitantly, not fully believing this but all the more glad for it, "if I… if you want then, uh, you can take all the… warmth you want."

God, you're an idiot, stop stuttering!

Kongō just seemed more amused, placed a short kiss on their cheek and continued to laugh at the face she got in response.

They couldn't even form words anymore, instead just stuttering as their brain tried to reboot.

"Don't die on me", she petted their shoulders and placed their foreheads together, "I plan on having you and your little four-legged friend in my life for quite a while."

Deeply touched and redder than red, they surged forwards and closed the distance with a cute squeak.

Kongō smiled against their lips.

0 notes

stansethandpaul · 3 years

Text

Jealousy Jealousy (rewrite)

Angst -> Fluff: Embry Call x GN!reader

Summary: Embry gives y/n a slap in the face about reality after they constantly sulk about Bella.

A/N: I'm much more content with this one and I actually might end up deleting the other one, sorry about that. I actually took a lot more time editing this and didn't write this when I was burnt out compared to the other one! I'm just overall way happier with the other one because I knew that the other one wasn't my true capability.

warnings: angst (that's all I could really think of tell me if you see anything else!)

Masterlist

Ding!

Constant notifications vibrated Jacob's phone as we sat on his couch together watching the movie on the screen. I shot him a look of annoyance, signaling him to check his phone which he did swiftly. His eyes shot open in surprise before he shot up from the couch and throwing on a shirt and shoes, hopping out the door as he attempted to put the last shoe on.

"Sorry y/n! Bella just told me she was free, you know what it's been like for her!" He hastily shouted out before sprinting down the gravel driveway.

"Bye!" I shouted back, trying to hide my disappointment.

I grimaced at the situation. On one hand, I knew how the sudden disappearance of the Cullens devastated her, especially Edward's sudden abandonment but this happened way too many times. But on the other, Jacob was like her puppy dog now, it was like I wasn't even his friend anymore, it was like our friendship meant nothing.

Knowing that Jacob wouldn't be back anytime soon, I got my stuff and locked the door behind me before driving over to Emily's place to surround myself in the livelier company.

"Sup y/n! Missed me didn't ya!" Jared boomed as I opened the door to which I replied with a "you wish". I chuckled at his dramatic pain as he pretended to hold his heart, eyes shut and face contorting.

"Know where Embry is?" Questioning the dramatic boy as I peered around the room to see if I could find any trace of the lanky boy, no luck.

"Finding your loverboy huh? With the deepest of regrets, I must inform you that he was put on patrol today." He said, mocking my curiosity over Embry's whereabouts. I stuck my tongue out at him to tease him before flipping him off and leaving to the porch to await Embry.

"Knock it off Paul, it's not what you think"

"yeah sure, and if it wasn't what I HEARD THROUGH THE MINDLINK then I don't know what else it could have been"

Their voices permeated through the thick fog as their silhouettes came into view, Paul's muscly tall physique was seen locking an arm around Embry's tall lanky but lean body.

"Aw buzz off Paul," Embry said as he struggled to get Paul's arm off of his neck. He laughed at his struggle before letting go as he noticed me, shooting Embry a smirk to which a slight blush came onto his face, only noticeable as they got closer. Odd.

"Sup Paul," I smirked at him before turning my attention over to Embry.

"And hello to you too wolf boy," teasing him to which he shot a glare at me before attempting to stifle his laughs.

Paul said a prompt bye before jogging into the house to fill up his appetite whilst Embry sat down next to me, his body warmth radiating. The cold air nipped at my skin, pushing me to get closer to the much warmer boy as I swung my legs into his lap and resting my head on his shoulder.

"Jacob left again?"

A sigh left my mouth at his obvious question.

Closing my eyes promptly, I answered with a short nod. A response that showed my true feelings after all these times of being blown off by Jacob.

We sat in silence, my eyes closed as I felt his shoulders move up and down in a rhythmic motion, lulling me to sleep almost. The deafening quiet seemed to almost suffocate us before I decided to talk.

"I don't know what to do anymore Embry, I'm always there for him when he needs me but, he runs to her at the drop of a hat or more like a single text message," I grumbled, reminiscing about the times Jacob's left me in the dust for Bella, excuses sprouting up.

"Why does everyone in this town seem to be so infatuated with her," expecting no response I kept going.

"Is it because she's Charlie's daughter? Hell if I was his child Jacob would be all over me too right? I'd be the hot topic of town too, people staring at me wherever I go, being suddenly accepted by the Cullen family and Jacob. I'd really have the best of both worlds wouldn't I?" Scowling at my own questions, I turned to Embry for answers.

"Am I not right?"

Silence.

"Helloooooooo, Earth to Embry?" I said, poking his cheeks with my finger. His brows seemed to be furrowed together, eyes lost in thought, his attention elsewhere.

There seemed to be no response from him to which I huffed and turned back to stare at the fog rolling in.

Closing my eyes to embrace the serenity once more, his lulling voice startled me.

“I don’t think it’s true.”

I turned my head towards him, curiosity piqued by his response.

“Let’s be real Embry, I’d have the best time of my life if I was Bella fucking Swan. Every guy would love me, all the attention would be on me and I wouldn’t be a second option again. Hell, I’d even be able to actually confess to my crush without fearing rejection.” Bitterness laced the last sentence as I satirically spoke my mind. Looking at Embry’s hands and wishing they were embracing mine, the sudden gesture of his fist clenching as his knuckles turned white shocked me, he was mad.

“God y/n, why the hell do you always need to compare yourself to Bella? She hasn’t even done anything to you. It’s always Bella this Bella that if I was her blah blah blah. Get over yourself, you’re not her and you won’t ever be. Learn how to appreciate yourself and live YOUR life and stop moping around. So what Jacob runs to Bella each time, you have Jared, Emily, Paul, and everyone else.”

A long silence suspended in the air.

“You have me and you come running, you never see the other people around you cause you’re too busy complaining. You can’t even see how much I love you cause you’re so stuck up about being Bella and being Jacob’s priority aren’t you?” Finishing his sentence, he proceeded to get up before walking away. Stopping before reaching the woods, his back faced to me, he spoke simply.

“Find me when you can learn to be y/n and not Bella.”

His form morphed before running into the woods on all fours, leaving me stunned. After a brief moment, tears flooded my eyes. I never got to tell him that I do like him, I never got to tell him that I just want his attention, I just wanted him.

Thoughts spiraled in my head, I was jealous of Bella for sure but I was jealous because of the attention she was given. I just wanted Embry to treat me like she was treated, I wanted to be special to him.

I ran home, I ran because I was scared. I was scared I wouldn't be able to look at him properly.

Weeks passed as we ceased to talk, and I ceased to exist in the small town of Forks. Or so I thought.

I groaned as heavy knocks assaulted my front door, I picked up the phone looking at the time. Who the hell shows up at someone's house at 4am?

Throwing on a sweater and sweats, I dragged myself to the front door, the cold hardwood floor seemingly repelling me from ever making any progress. I swung the door open, grumbling as my eyes were half open wondering who it was.

Jacob Black.

Mentally sighing, I invited him inside from the pouring rain, he seemed devastated.

He sat down after he changed as I made him some hot chocolate to comfort him.

"She chose him y/n, he came back and she chose him over me. She drove to Italy for that stupid bloodsucker." His cracking voice was more than enough for me to grasp his frustration and devastation.

"I dropped everything for her, I did everything for her y/n. And she still chose the guy that skipped town huh?" Laughing bitterly at the situation, I stared at his cup before handing it to him.

"Maybe if I was better than Edward I would've won this stupid fucking battle," his words escaping his clenched teeth. He was like me, we were jealous of someone, someone that seemed to win everything, someone that we were not. The words spoken to me by Embry were words I carried with me even as I was moping over the whole situation.

"Stop comparing yourself to him, Jacob. You're not Edward and you won't ever be him. You're so insistent on being better than Edward or being Edward that you can't even see what's in front of you. I was always here for you Jake, I was always here but you treated me like I was a second option. You left me in a heartbeat for her but you never had time to spend with me, not even five minutes, when you were with her," I too chuckled bitterly at the ironic situation, me and Jacob were similar in many ways.

"Learn to live your life, don't live it for her or because of her, learn how to live it like you want." Those words seemed to resonate deep within both of us. After finally speaking those words, I realized that I was ready to live my life as y/n, a citizen of the small city of Forks, and not vying to be Bella, the new girl to forks.

I stood up, putting on shoes hastily before grabbing the handle. I could sense Jacob's attempt to stop me and apologize for his treatment but I knew better.

"It's ok, I know you're gonna apologize. I'm not going to accept, I want the Jake that will care and treat everyone with the same importance that you had for Bella. Come to me when you're ready, but until then I hope you grow and learn how to live your life."

I paused again, one foot out of the door.

"I have someone important to apologize to, someone that didn't leave me in the blink of an eye."

I hurriedly shut the door behind me before running to the woods, my lungs burning and legs aching as I forced myself to my limit. I ran and ran, visions of the houses slowly turned to trees, the crunching leaves under my feet reminded me of the days we would all run through the woods.

My breathing became labored as I was reaching my breaking point but it was close, our place was close. Then, in my distant vision, I could see it. That one pine tree, seemingly normal to many, but to me, it held our memories. The initials only reassured my assumption as I knew that he would be here waiting. As I got closer to the tree, my legs gave out under me, sending me tumbling to the ground whilst tree branches scratched my arms and ripped a hole in my pants.

"EMBRY! EMBRY I'M HERE PLEASE!" I shouted into the dark forest, eyes tearing up once more as I pleaded.

"I LOVE YOU EMBRY CALL AND I'M SORRY I WAS TOO BLIND TO REALIZE IT!" I shouted once more before crumpling closer to the ground, my tears now fully flowing and hitting the dead leaves below.

Maybe I took too long, maybe he moved on, maybe I was too jealous of someone to even realize his love.

As sobs continued throughout my body, the hope of him ever coming was diminishing.

I was too late.

Suddenly, I felt a pair of strong but warm arms wrap around my waist and pulling me up.

"Shhh, it's ok I'm here now."

That voice, I looked up to see Embry's face which held a dorky grin. I threw my arms around him as sobs still left my body, the emotional rollercoaster was far too much for me to handle.

"I-i'm s-s-so sorry Embry, I was too focused on trying to be Bella that I-"

"I know, I know, I heard it all," shushing me as he rubbed circles on my back consoling me. After what felt like hours in his embrace, I finally calmed down and only tear stains remained.

I finally lifted my head to meet his eyes properly this time, he stared back with tender eyes.

"You finally learned how to live for you huh?" He asked, not expecting an answer to which I was oblivious.

Before I could respond, he pressed his lips to mine. I didn't try and fight it and melted into it instead.

I was blind to be jealous of Bella when I already had something that she fought to keep.

Smiling mentally, I wrapped my arms around his neck to deepen the kiss.

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yanderemommabean · 3 years

Note

Humanoid bara yandere dinos? Or hot humanoid Dino mamas?

“Specimen A, please open your mouth” You say while preparing your clipboard, watching the being before you stand with a curious expression. Human as they may seem, you know better than to fall for the gimmick. Type A specimens are especially skilled in camouflage and body modification, able to blend into their surroundings to attack prey by ambush.

The only way to tell them apart from your own species is by seeing their teeth, or in rare cases, the shape of their pupils when they are in a state of anger. Slits like that of a predator protecting its territory, preparing for a slaughter.

“Open...Mouth?” the specimen mimics, tilting its head curiously as it walks to you and sits at your feet. It waits for a confirming nod, and lets it’s large tongue loll out of it’s gaping, tooth filled maw. It was young, still learning how to speak it’s own tongue let alone humans. It was cute, they always were when fresh out of the incubators and into the playpen. You could tell this little one was different, much more open to sharing and learning compared to the other youngsters.

As you jot down some small observations, freezing when a type B specimen walked behind you with a low, possessive growl. Type B specimens were ones you were told to avoid when around younger hatchlings, as the mix of DNA and instincts created more hostile and possessive beings.

Type B were capable of using their stealth and pack like mentality to take down prey, having senses of smell and sight to which humans can only envy and wish to obtain in the next life. You hush the startled youngling from the unknown specimens approaching from behind, and hug them to your chest as they ask to be lifted up, pressing their face into your chest as they shake and whimper.

“Lovely parental instincts” One says as two other large, well built male specimen approach. “You’d be such a good mate you know? Our young would look lovely having your blood”.

“We could always use a human like you-” one says as he cages you in, growling as the young type A in your arms prevents him from moving in another inch.

The other male chuckles, while a female type B coos at your predicament. “Come on, let us take you. Your body is just aching to be marked and bred full of our DNA” she pacified, nodding her head towards the male on standby to shoo the other children away into the outside playground.

You stand your ground firmly, tightening your hold on the child while puffing your chest. Weakness was not an option, especially with a young one. “Back down. Go back to your enclosure before I'm forced to use protocol Z” you warn, side stepping out of the arms blocking you in as the two remaining specimens only stare you down with wicked grins.

The female purrs lowly, clicking to the other excitedly in their own language. The noise resonates through the both of them, almost a pleasant hum. You could only guess and assume what was being said, and used their distraction to get the other youngling to safety in the hatchlings enclosed playground.

No specimen was “Safe” per se, but if you had to choose any of the multiple categories, you’d choose the babies and hatchlings before their main instincts kicked in. They never caused much of a fuss. Well, until they learn what hunting is and then tag becomes a bit of a problem.

You press the lock button and try to take a deep breath, cursing to relieve some tension while the little ones tackle and run around on the playsets.

Jesus, how are they so good at escaping? Type B is notorious for pack attacks, could they be evolving? “God I can’t believe my notes are in there!” you huff, bringing your phone out to try and type down your thoughts, yelping and nearly dropping the device as it starts ringing.

“Gah!- Yes uhm, yes i’m here! “ you blurt out, pressing the phone to your ear as you give your location, notifying the voice of the security breach, blushing when a familiar voice calls out in the background.

“Ah, Y/n! Got those dinos in a riot again huh?” the head doctor called out, teasing you. You groan and cover your face with your other hand, muttering a goodbye before hanging up. Always the one to blame when the hybrids escape and go on the hunt. Anywhere from type A to Type Z. The hybrids have become increasingly persistent in getting a hold of a mate, or friend, or paternal figure, and you were brought to the team to try and figure out why.

Your thoughts are brought to a halt when shrill crying erupts on the playground, and you rush over to make sure the little ones are ok, seeing the type A from earlier was a bit too harsh when play biting. No big deal! No big deal! Just a kiss and a bandage, and some nice little snacks, and everything will be ok!

For the time being, as you’re unaware of the camouflaged eyes watching you from behind.

-Mommabean (Ok so! tell me what you think! sorry for any typos, my keyboard is wanky!)

#Yandere exophilia #yandere dino hybrids #thats a fucking tag #yandere scenarios #yandere imagines #mommabean #poorly written badly paced #yandere exophilia #yandere ish #yandere jurassic park

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mellowyandere · 3 years

Text

One Hell of a Logical Ruse Part 2

Reader: F

Characters: Toshinori Yagi (All Might)

Summary: Toshinori's anxiety over your absence quickly gave way to anger as he tired of your attitude. His own version of a punishment was in order.

Length: 6.7k

Warnings: non-con spanking, yandere themes, bathing, non-con, vaginal fingering, vaginal sex, size kink.

Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3

Based off the pre-established fic You’re Ours to Protect.

Toshinori and Hizashi were pacing the kitchen, phones in hand as they tried to get Shouta to respond. You had been missing for upwards of six hours now and the pros were on the verge of losing it. Their sleepy counterpart had stated he wouldn't need the two blonds help, but try as they might they couldn't help the anxiety clawing away at their minds.

"Fuck Toshi what if she got hurt? I know she's capable 'n all but the woods! There's god knows what out there!" The smaller blond was vibrating he was so wound up, the mental image of bugs crawling all over you and coyotes tearing you to pieces sending him into a panic.

All Might's anxieties were a bit more practical, imagining you finding your way to the road and trying to hitch hike away from them. What if a villain found you and hurt you? Nowhere was safer than home with them.

"Shouta is fully capable of finding her, any minute now and he'll give me a call..." The words were meant to bring Hizashi comfort, but he was struggling to convince himself as well. His phone was clutched in his large hand, its silence on the verge of killing him.

When it finally rang he almost threw it across the room as he fumbled it. Slamming the answer button he brought the phone to his ear.

"Where is she, is she hurt, is she alright?"

"Calm down she's fine. Dirty and upset, but otherwise relatively unharmed."

Hizashi bounded over, ears perked so he could listen in on the conversation. His perfectly aligned teeth worried his bottom lip at his husbands word choice of relatively. So he was a bit rough on recovery.

"I'll send you our coordinates, she managed to get pretty far into the endless forest. Good thing that contact of yours set up this quirk or else she would have reached the main road hours ago."

Toshinori heard your disgruntled yelling in the background at Shouta's newest revelation before the line went dead. His phone pinged and he made a mental note of where the two of you were. Taking a deep breath he puffed up his chest, taking on his more muscular appearance before running out the front door.

-----

An endless forest. Go figures. From what you could tell the further you wandered into the woods the deeper they actually became. You weren't exactly sure how they got in and out the house around the quirk, but the path you took was clearly not it.

You were currently sitting on the ground, back to Shouta as you simmered. Now that he was no longer plastered on top of you your anger was rekindled. You could feel his eyes burning holes into you, but you were far too pissed off to acknowledge him. It was a good thing he seemed to know when to leave you be, not bothering with conversation after fucking you into the forest floor.

The only thing he'd done since violating you was get his capture weapon, dragging you along so he didn't lose sight of you again.

Your head was still pounding from when you had hit the ground earlier. Combining that with how filthy you were and Shouta's cooling cum on your inner thighs, and you feel like absolute shit.

The sound of a loud thud behind you caused you to flinch. You didn't have it in you to turn around and face the number one hero right now, not sure if you would be able to handle whatever expression was on his face.

"Oh goodness, Shouta she's a mess what did you do?"

The dark haired man simply huffed in response, eyes rolling at the number ones concern.

"Just get us home, she needs a bath."

You hated when they talked about you like you weren't there, as if you were just some pet or child instead of your own autonomous person.

All Mights heavy footsteps approached you, stopping just shy of touching you. When you made no move to acknowledge his presence he sighed deeply, tutting at your behavior, before scooping you up bridal style. You closed your eyes to avoid looking at him, turning away from his broad chest.

"Shouta you can just grip around my neck from behind, it will only take a couple minutes to get back."

Tears pricked the corners of your eyes at his words. He had covered what took you six hours in mere minutes.

As soon as Eraserhead had confirmed himself secure All Might took off. Wind rushed passed you as he soared high above the canopy. You peeked your eyes open, trying desperately to see where the forest ended, but much to your dismay the nearest city looked to be hundreds of miles away, and any possible roads were obscured by trees.

"Take a good look Y/N," Toshinori murmured to you, voice rumbling against your ear. He didn't need to say more, you understood him loud and clear. Escape won't be possible, even if you get out you can't outrun me, and even if you hide it's only a matter of time before we find you. Your tears of frustration fell more freely now. Way to rub salt in the wound.

When you landed a minute or so later Shouta wasted no time in dropping off the giant while Toshinori quickly brought you inside. Hizashi greeted you at the front door, a strange mixture of relief, anger and disappointment swirling in his emerald eyes.

"Oh no baby look at yah. I got the water runnin' in the master bath in your room Toshi come on lets get her clean." Toshinori followed Hizashi upstairs, refusing to put you down. You all trailed through his bedroom, simplistic design leaving the space void of personality, until you ended up in his bathroom. The room was large, to accommodate the size of its owner, with white marble tiles on the floor, accompanied by white walls and white appliances, giving the room a sterile feeling.

"Hizashi, Shouta, I'll take care of her for now." You had expected a bit of protest from Hizashi but he merely walked out with a sad nod.

"Take it easy on her okay, it's partially my fault she got out..." Shouta mumbled, following his husband out of the bathroom. The door closed with a soft click and for the first time since coming into this house you found yourself alone with All Might. He was normally so busy you barely ever saw him, but now here he was, gently lowering you to the floor.

He stepped away from you, running his hand under the large free standing tubs faucet to test the water temperature. Hizashi had left everything he'd need to clean you up, towel and spare clothes included.

"Go ahead and strip." His voice was colder than normal, an edge to it that filled you with unease. Turning to finally look at him you sucked in your breath. His eyes were fixated on you, searing you with a look that was equal parts disappointment and wounded. He was still in his muscular form, kneeling impatiently beside the bath.

Heat rushed to your face as you slowly began to peel off your filthy clothes, until you were standing in front of him in your bra and underwear. He quirked an eyebrow at you as his frowned deepened.

"All of it." Anger and fear mixed dangerously in your mind as you glared at him.

"I can clean myself."

"I don't recall asking if you could. Strip, now."

When you made no move to comply he threw his head back in exasperation, heaving a large sigh before standing to his full height.

"I have had enough of your behavior young lady. I understand your frustration with us, but we're doing this for your own good. Would you really rather waste away in prison?"

"I'd rather you assholes just kill me already or something, this whole playing pet thing is really starting to piss me off!" His face dropped, teeth grinding against one another as his mind processed what you said. You had no idea how villains got the nerve to fight him, right now it was taking everything inside you to not back down and apologize.

"Kill you? Are you serious right now!" He stomped up to you, frame looming over you threateningly as his eyes blazed with fury.

Swallowing hard you steeled your nerves, you had nothing left to lose so might as well give him a piece of your mind.

"I was perfectly fine before you fuckers brought me here! I don't need you! The fact that you had to prevent me from using my quirk is proof enough that I don't need you! Sure I might not have had much, but it was mine! My life to own and do whatever the hell I wanted with, not yours to take!"

"The moment you decided killing people was the only way to solve your problems was the moment you lost the rights to your life. As heroes in this world, and enforcers of justice, you are sentenced to our care. Now stop arguing with me and strip."

Puffing out your chest you narrowed your tear stained eyes and fixed him with the nastiest look you could muster. "Fuck. You."

In that moment you saw something inside him snap. Mouth pulled tight in a terrifying scowl, he had you maneuvered faster than you could comprehend. One moment you had been standing in front of him, the next you were strewn over his lap, facing the floor.

You yelled out in anger, clawing at his calves through his cargo pants. You knew what would be coming next, but your brain didn't want to slow down to think about how humiliating it was about to be.

"If you want to act like a child then you'll be punished like one. Count. One for every hour you were gone. Be grateful it's not more."

"Let go of me you fucking assho- aH!"

His large hand made contact with your clothed ass, the slap muffled by the sound of running water.

"Count."

You bit down on your bottom lip hard, tears leaving trails as they washed the dirt down your face. You waited with bated breath, the stinging on your ass for now was bearable enough.

"Y/N, you will count on this next one or I will double your punishment. I'm done playing games with you."

You tensed on the expanse of his massive thighs. You didn't want to count, didn't want to give in, but deep down you knew you'd never win.

His hand came down again with another resounding smack right on top of the first hit. You let out a sob from the impact, choking out a soft "one" as your self preservation instincts kicked your ego to the curb.

"Good, only five more to go."

Your head hung in shame as you waited for your punishment to end, jolting and squeaking out numbers every time he made contact with your burning flesh. To his credit he applied the same level of force with each hit, but every time he made contact the intensity of your burn increased until finally you cried out a broken "six".

You felt so pathetic, strewn across All Mights lap. You used to be so independent, never did you imagine this would be your fate. What happened to your self confidence? The fire inside of you that pushed you to rid the world of villains felt smoldered. Doused by the degrading nature of your stay with the three pro heroes.

It made you want to curl up in a ball and cry until your head pounded from exhaustion. Today was simply getting to be too much for you to mentally handle. From your failed escape attempt, your pathetic attempt at self defense against Shouta, learning running was a pointless waste of your time, to now getting a spanking like a fucking child from All Might himself. The list of losses just kept adding up, and none of them were in your favor.

You were openly sobbing, and the fact that you were crying was pissing you off even more, making for a horrible cycle where you simply cried harder. Toshinori gently moved you around in his hold until he had you clutched to his chest, gently shushing you as you clung to him. Despite how wrong it was you found comfort in Toshinori as he rubbed soft circles into your back, grasping small handfuls of his t-shirt as you stained the white fabric with tears and dirt.

"Everything is going to be okay, I know you've had a bad day and being locked up isn't easy for you. Just give it some time Y/N and you'll see that things here aren't so bad with us. We're here for you, and we're never going to tire of you, even with that stubborn attitude of yours."

Toshinori waited patiently for your sobbing to turn into soft hiccups before peeling you off of him. He removed what little clothes you had left and then lowered you into the tub. The drain was unplugged since you were still filthy, and sitting you in a full tub of water would murky up the clean bath.

Grabbing a large cup Toshinori filled it and poured water over your naked body. You watched with unfocused and puffy eyes as the proof of your failed escape attempt swirled down the drain. Only when the water finally ran clear did Toshinori put the plug in. The lulling warmth progressively crept higher up your body, your head bobbing as you grew sleepy. Toshinori turned the water off once the water had reached your chest, leaving it a good bit from the lip of the tub.

You heard the rustling of clothes but paid the source no mind. You didn't so much as react when the now naked hero stepped into the bath, shimmying down until you were surrounded by him. The water level rose drastically with the addition of the 560 pound man. His thick thighs were splayed on either side of you, solid abdominal muscles pressed into your back.

You heard the pop of a bottle before two large hands gently began to lather your skin in body wash.

"I'm not sure how you like your hair cleaned princess. Whenever women find out I use two in one shampoo they give me a look like I kicked a puppy so I'll just leave that to you for another time." He chuckled softly as he spoke, massaging the tightness out of your shoulders before moving down to your arms.

He spoke so casually, as if all his anger from earlier evaporated with the ending of your punishment. You found yourself grateful that he moved on so quickly instead of lingering on your emotional degradation.

You felt his cock stir a bit as he came back to your chest, cupping them and working the soap onto your skin with more attention than he'd shown your shoulders. You stiffened a bit, but since he made no further move to grind himself against you, you remained in his hold.

"I'm sorry for being rough with you, I'd much rather do something relaxing like this than bring you pain." He pulled you until your head was laying on the expanse of his chest, the deep pounding of his heart mingling with the ringing in your ears. It was almost relaxing, minus the growing erection pressed against your lower back.

Reluctantly his hands left your breast, moving further down your body. He rubbed the soft expanse of your stomach, humming happily at your lack of resistance to him. Only when his hands drifted further did you begin to stir a bit.

"Now young lady I need to make sure all of you is cleaned up okay? You're behaving yourself so well I'd really hate to ruin the moment."

"No, no. Please. Just this one thing.."

His hands paused. He hated how broken you sounded right now. Pulling back he raised his arms outside the tub and rested them along the edges. You relaxed a bit as he retreated.

"Alright Y/N, do you need any soap?"

Sighing softly in relief, you were glad that he was willing to give you this. It almost made you feel human again.

"Nah, it's not healthy to use soap down there."

Toshinori merely hummed in acknowledgement, sliding further into the bath and pushing you along with him as he got comfortable.

You cleaned your core gently, it was still a bit sore from what Shouta had done earlier to you. Only once you deemed yourself spotless did you get soap to lather on the parts of you Toshinori had not gotten to. Speaking of, his breathing had gotten a lot deeper. You peaked back at him noticing his head uncomfortably resting against the tub as he drifted into unconsciousness.

Peering down his naked body you couldn't help but gasp softly as you took note of the large injury covering part of his abdomen. You turned towards him, sending ripples through the water as you cautiously brought your hand to the deep scar. You knew that All Might had been injured enough to force him into a smaller form, but seeing the injury first hand was something else entirely. Who on earth had been able to hurt this titan of a man?

You hadn't realized Toshinori had woken up until his large hand gently covered your own. Meeting his soft gaze you were taken aback by his sad smile.

"The man who did this to me, some say it would be best if I just killed him already. But that's not what heroes do, that's not what Nana would do."

Taking hold of your body Toshinori moved you until he had you straddling the smallest part of his waist. Since you were both completely naked you kept your eyes trained on his injury, heat rushing to your cheeks at the intimacy of the position. His hands rose from the water, gently cupping your face and drawing your gaze to his own.

"When I look at you sometimes I can see her. Your strong will, your intelligence, how beautiful you are... but you're not the same person. Not in a bad way, no you are unique. Your own individual, and someone who I've come to love, even if you don't feel the same way."

His blue orbs were hypnotizing, almost as if he believed if he tried hard enough your own glassy orbs would mirror his loving gaze, or perhaps he'd see it hidden in the depths of your irises.

This moment was far too intimate and personal for your comfort, it was so different than anything any of the men had done before. In a way you almost preferred when they failed to acknowledge you as an equal, it made it easier to hate them. But right now, sitting in the warm bath atop Toshinori, you could feel your resolve slipping.

You didn't want to bring attention to his confession so you decided to try and divert the subject.

"Who's Nana?" You had never heard of her before, not even in tabloids referring to All Might. Toshinori's hands froze on your face, eyes scrunching up as he contemplated on how he wanted to answer.

"Nana... Nana was my mentor. Though calling her that doesn't feel right, she was more like a mother to me. She's the reason I am who I am. Without her I'd be nothing."

Past tense, he was using a lot of past tense. It didn't take a genius to interpret why. His forlorn expression filled in the gaps, so you didn't bother to ask what had become of her. He saw you in the same light he saw this woman?

"Y/N, will you sleep with me tonight?"

Taking note of your hesitation he continued speaking before you could voice any protests.

"Coming home and realizing you were gone.. I was so worried, so afraid I'd never see you again. That you'd be taken away from me, and I don't know if I can handle losing you. I've lost so many people that I cared deeply about, I refuse to lose you too."

How in the ever loving fuck were you supposed to refuse him now. Even though you were still mad at him from his earlier form of punishment you couldn't find it in you to hurt him right now.

"Yeah that's fine, but just tonight. You probably put off a ridiculous amount of heat or snore or something..."

Toshinori flashed you his signature smile before bellowing out a laugh. The water rippled and your body jostled along with his hearty chuckle.

"Me? Snore? No, it'll be the coughing that might get to you haha-ack"

Pain flashed across his face before you felt his body rapidly shrink beneath you with a large puff of smoke. He scrambled upright, causing you to fall against him as he hacked out a lung. You awkwardly placed your hand on his back and rubbed small circles as one of his arms gripped you tightly for balance.

"So-sorry I think I was in my muscular form for too long."

He looked a bit sheepish, using the back of his forearm to wipe off some blood that had dribbled down his chin. You merely sat there, doing your best to look anywhere but him as he collected himself.

"The water's getting cold, come on let's get out princess."

You stood up first, awkwardly stepping over his legs and out of the tub. You were a bit embarrassed that he kept his eyes trained on you the whole time while his hands hovered to ensure your safety. A pile of large fluffy towels were set to the side of the tub on a stool. Grabbing the one on top you began the process of drying off.

You heard the sloshing of water as Toshinori stood up, followed by the sound of the plug being pulled and water draining. Looking over it amazed you that even in his smaller form he was was still intimidating. Wiry muscles clung tight to his frame, the angles of his face casting shadows across his eyes. Stepping out he grabbed a towel and proceeded to dry himself off as well.

"Hizashi left you some clothes it would seem... though they look a bit uncomfortable. You can borrow a spare shirt of mine, I also have a spare toothbrush on the top right hand draw of the counter if you want to hide out in my room tonight."

You very much wanted to avoid Hizashi, not sure if you could handle whatever he'd have in store for you right now. Out of three men here, he made you the most nervous. Even now, as you held the scandalous lingerie up to the light you knew he was still going to want his share of punishment.

"I'll take your shirt offer, as well as the hiding out offer. I don't think I can handle him tonight."

Toshinori hummed in acknowledgement before heading to his bedroom and shuffling about before reappearing with one of his large white t-shirts. He had on boxers now, which he must have bought specifically for his smaller form because they hugged all of him rather snugly. Tossing the shirt your way he meandered about the bathroom, preparing for sleep.

You both finished around the same time, leaving you to awkwardly shuffle towards his gigantic bed. He followed behind you, large hand on the small of your back to encourage you onwards.

You wanted him to sleep on the other side of the bed but weren't sure exactly how to voice your desire, especially when he followed so closely behind you. Pulling back the sheets you slid under the cool covers, and yet again Toshinori somehow found a way to leave you with no space.

After turning off the bedside lamp his long limbs quickly ensnared you, pulling you close and tucking you into his embrace. He was warm, but not unpleasantly hot.

Just for tonight. You'd give him this just for tonight. You were also beyond exhausted, your limbs heavy as you sunk into his ridiculously comfortable mattress. Your mind, which had been drifting off ever since the bath, finally dipped into unconsciousness. Your soft breathing filled the air as Toshinori watched you finally succumb to slumber. Smiling softly he lovingly stroked your cheek, planting a kiss to your forehead before giving in himself.

-----

Waking with a jolt you were thrown off by limbs harshly clutching your body. It took you a moment to remember that you weren't in your own bedroom, meaning Toshinori was currently holding you like his life depended on it.

The room was pitch black so you had no idea what time it was, but figured it was still way to early to be awake. His grip on your body was borderline painful causing you to groan out in sleepy annoyance.

"Toshinori, damnit, wake up. You're squeezing me too tight," you grumbled, wiggling a bit to try and jostle him awake. He was murmuring in his sleep, deep voice grumbling against you with the way he had you pressed against his chest.

"D-don't go... no no. I am here... please."

His body was trembling, caught in a nightmare that you couldn't see.

You raised your voice a bit, trying harder to wake him up but he still wouldn't release his grip on you. Only when you accidentally elbowed him did he finally react to you.

With a harsh gasp he threw himself on top of you, pushing you into the mattress. His blue eyes were a wild blaze, messy blond hair framing his angular face. His long bangs were plastered to his forehead from sweat, lungs heaving to swallow air.

"Y/N?"

He looked so lost, eyes clouded with tears as his brain finally registered he was no longer trapped in his own personal hell. Groaning out in discomfort he lowered his body on top of you, burying his face in the crook of your neck. He wrapped his arms around you, trying to ground himself.

"Ah, I'm- I'm so sorry. I didn't mean to wake you up... fuck." Moving down he rested his head against your chest, as if he needed to hear your heart beating beneath him in order to assure himself you were really here.

All you could find it in yourself to do was sigh in exhaustion, body going limp as you relaxed beneath him. It was a good thing he was in his smaller form, since he wasn't attempting to keep any of his weight off of you. You closed your eyes, not quite ready to ask him what his nightmare had been about.

He sniffled softly into your chest, arms unwinding from your waist to gently rub against your exposed flesh. His shirt had drifted up your body, leaving your stomach and lower half exposed.

"May I, may I touch you please?"

"You already are..."

"Oh, uh- yeah it would seem I am. Could I touch you, um down here?" His hand trailed down, knuckles softly brushing against your bare thighs.

You cracked your eyes open to look down at him, his own glowing orbs pleading up to you.

"Toshinori can we just go back to sleep? Please?"

Biting his bottom lip his hand continued to drift closer to your naked core, eyes averting from your own as he thought about what he was going to do next.

"I know I'm not around as much as Hizashi and Shouta but gosh I just- I need to feel you right now. The way they talk about you, how perfect you feel, I need you."

"I-I'd rather we just sleep, Hizashi is still mad at me an-"

Toshinori slid up your body, silencing your protests with a kiss. His hand slid up all the way, using his own thigh as leverage to keep you from closing yours.

His tongue delved into your mouth, fingers finally meeting your outer folds. You struggled beneath him, breaking the kiss.

"Toshinori please, I just want to sleep." In reality you were scared. You had seen his length before, and you'd be a liar if you said it didn't intimidate you. That coupled with the fact that tonight had been going semi-well with the pro, him finally having his share of you would cement your fate in this house even further. His fingers had paused, body still as he took you in below him.

"You don't have to do a thing then princess, I'll take care of everything. Just lay back and relax I promise I'll make you feel good."

"To-Toshinori please, I just want to sleep," you looked deep into his eyes as you pleaded with him, hoping somehow you could find the part of him that knew this was wrong. He gave you a sad smile, his eyes still a bit glassy from his nightmare.

"Just think of this as the last of your punishment then. I still don't think you realize just how terrified I was when I came home to an empty house."

You shook your head, sniffling a bit as tears formed. You tried to push him off but he merely took one large hand and easily secured both of your wrists above your head. His other hand resumed ever so gently teasing you, working on getting you aroused.

"Just lay back and relax alright, then we can go back to sleep. I just-I just need to feel you right now. Need to make sure you're really here."

You worked your bottom lip with you teeth, eyes closed so you no longer had to look at him. His thumb trailed up to press light circles against your clit while his middle finger began to delve a bit deeper, teasing your sore hole. Your body had gone slack, tired of the fact that this was just another situation in which your powerlessness was painfully on display. You didn't have it in you mentally to put up a fight.

Toshinori moved his slim hips until his clothed cock was pressed against your right thigh, rutting against you while he worked you open. He gave a gentle peck to your forehead before trailing kisses down your face to your mouth. He captured your lips with his own, freeing your bottom lip from your teeth and moaning into your unwilling mouth.

You didn't work with him, not giving him the satisfaction of your consent, but he wasn't deterred. He simply moved down, back arching as he made his way to your chest. His erection left your thigh as he finally settled on his stomach between your legs, allowing him to comfortably take your right nipple into his hot mouth.

He nipped at the sensitive bud, long finger pushing into you at the same time while he continued to work your clit. His movements were slow as he savored every moment, sleepy mind basking in the warmth of your body.

You tried to drift back to sleep, thinking that perhaps in the emptiness of unconsciousness you could avoid your punishment, but Toshinori was surprisingly very skilled when it came to manipulating your body. You shuddered beneath him when he gave a particularly hard suck to your breast, his lean digit rubbing against the spongy spot on your inner walls that had you clamping down on him in return.

His pace was torture, just on the cusp of bringing you satisfaction, but he seemed plenty content with dragging this out. You wiggled below him in annoyance, attempting to grind down against his hand in anger and desperation. If he was going to force himself on you then the least he could do was not torment you about it.

With a soft sigh Toshinori released your nipple from his mouth, a small trail of spit connected to his lips. Opening your eyes you glared down at him, while his eyelids were hooded in an amorous gaze.

"Tell me what you need me to do for you princess."

"Let me sleep."

Toshinori gave a sleepy chuckle before peppering your chest with lazy kisses.

"You're more than welcome to try."

Resting his head against your chest he continued to pump his finger excruciatingly slow, easily pushing all the way in to his knuckle, thanks to how wet you had become, before dragging out with a languid come hither motion against your sensitive walls.

You could feel your heart accelerate as he lazily stroked pleasure into your slack body. The way in which you velvety walls clamped down on him far too telling of his skill. It would be so much easier to hate him if he wasn't so damn good at this. In some sick and twisted way though, his loving movements quelled the rage inside you.

Did you want this? Tears slipped down your face as you realized that some fucked up part of you just might. Toshinori hummed softly into your flesh while he lazily worked you closer to your climax, the endorphins flooding your brain working to wash away your inner turmoil. His thumb rubbed gentle circles on your clit while he nipped and sucked on whatever flesh he could reach.

Once he realized you were close to finishing he simply added another finger, stretching and wiggling the two digits to help open you up. You moaned softly at the intrusion, hips bucking as you gave in to him. It didn't take him much longer to finally push you over the edge, but he didn't stop like you had hoped. Adding a third digit you inhaled sharply at the burning sensation, stretched walls still spasming from your orgasm.

"I'll make sure you're ready, don't worry about a thing. Just a little bit more, you're tight but I'll fit."

"It- you won't fit, please you know you won't."

As if to prove you wrong he pushed a bit harder then you were prepared for, burying three of his fingers knuckle deep and forcing a pained whine from your throat. He began to move, getting on his knees and arching his body over your own while continuing to stroke your now sensitive and stinging cunt.

"As I said earlier, just think of this as the ending to your punishment."

"But Hizashi hasn't-" Toshinori cut you off with a pointed look.

"That's not my fault now is it?" You cringed away from him, his cold tone from earlier in the night caused your chest to tighten in fear.

He sighed lowly at your frightened expression, before giving you a small smile and another gentle peck to your forehead.

"Just lay back and relax alright?" He gave your captured wrists a light squeeze as he spoke, large frame hovering over you as he continued to scissor his fingers inside you. The burning sensation from being stretched out began to subside as the familiar warmth of pleasure took hold of you once more.

"There we go, just like that. The more you relax the easier this will be I promise."

Finally pulling his devilish hand away from your soaked pussy he made quick work of shimmying out of his underwear, long cock springing free. The tip was red with a good bit of pre-cum dripping down his intimidating length, some getting lost in his neatly trimmed curly blond pubic hair.

You had flashbacks to the first time you saw it, a bit relieved that in his smaller form he lost a bit of girth. But holy shit if this 7 foot 2 inch giant of a man wasn't packing heat.

Heat flushed Toshinori's face as he watched you take him in. He knew his size could be a bit alarming, which is why he was well versed in the art of foreplay.

Bringing himself down on top of you he lined his tip up with your entrance, free hand helping to guide himself in. You could feel him, gently rubbing himself on your outer lips to gather your slick. His raspy breaths ghosted across the hot expanse of your face, while he closed his eyes, letting out a low groan as he began to push in.

"Sh-shit yes, just like that, ah fuck it'll be a tight fit."

You whined as he began to work on sinking into you, his hand leaving his cock in favor of gently wrapping around your throat.

Despite his best efforts his fingers hadn't been enough preparation when compared to his cock. Gasping in pain you thrashed beneath him. He shushed you gently, fingers stroking your throat delicately as he speared you open. Little by little he rocked his hips into you, holding you down while you cried out in pain.

"So good, you're doing so good. The worst is over okay princess hold out for me."

You hardly knew what he meant by worst part when it felt like he was never going to bottom out. He brought his face down beside yours, huffing and groaning into your ear until finally he was flush with you, cock buried to the hilt. You were breathing hard, small whines and whimpers slipping past your lips at how he stretched you.

"Oh shit. You- you're fucking perfect."

"Too much, it's too much plea-" much to your frustration his mouth met your own again in order to cut off your protests. He pressed your head into the pillow to try and prevent you from pulling away from him again, hungrily following your escape attempts. The hand he had around your throat receded, only to snake its way between the two of you so he could continue teasing your sensitive clit.

His hips began to move again, assuming he had given you plenty of time to adjust based off the way your pussy clenched around him as if begging for more.

He starting off with the same tempo he had been doing for the majority of the night, so slow it was as if he was teasing you. But as the burning sensation in your poor cunt eased you realized he was doing it for your benefit. He wanted you to enjoy this, needed you to find pleasure and comfort in him. After all this was your first time with him, he wanted to make sure you weren't afraid when he came back for more.

As your whimpers subsided, replaced with hushed moans, only then did Toshinori begin to pick up the pace. Finally he released your mouth from his kiss, both of you gasping for air. He showered you with praise as he fucked into you, deep gravely voice never letting you forget just how much he cared for you.

For your part all you could do was submit to him, letting his deft finger and cock bring you back to the brink of orgasm. Your warm walls fluttered around him as he took you closer and closer, the resounding slap of flesh on flesh filling the room as he lost himself in his own pleasure. He was grounded only long enough to see you through, but as soon as you began to convulse around him, hips bucking and pretty mouth moaning obscenely, his mind blanked out.

He abandoned your clit, hand coming up to join the other and thread his fingers through your own. He hammered into you, painfully drawing out your orgasm as he chased his own climax. The juxtapose of him lovingly holding your hands to his feral thrusts was giving you mental whiplash.

"Yes, yes fuck. So good for me, don't ever leave me again. Shit - fuck I can't lose anyone else."

His thrusts were erratic, your whole body forced to move against his. You had assumed he would cum in you, just as Hizashi and Shouta had already done, but right before he finished he pulled out quickly. Pressing the head of his cock into your skin, hot thick surges of cum covered your stomach. The excess quickly began to drip down the side of your body, mingling with your sweat on the sheets below.

Coming down from his high, his hands were still intertwined with your own, skinny body heaving from exertion. For your part your heart rate had mostly settled after your second orgasm, leaving you effectively spent under him.

You had managed to keep your eyes closed while he had fucked you, only now opening them to find him observing you fondly. Releasing his hold on you he leaned over to his bedside table and grabbed a spare handkerchief, using it to wipe off his cooling cum.

Only when he deemed you properly spotless did he toss the cloth to the floor and flop down in the bed beside you. Drawing your weary body against him he folded around you, capturing you once more in his unrelenting grip.

"I know you haven't been here very long, but I can't help but love you so much it hurts. I'll be good to you if you're good to me okay?"

A meager "m-kay" was all you had it in you to respond with, but it was all the man wanted to hear. With a satisfied hum Toshinori pecked your forehead with one last kiss before you both succumbed to sleep.

#tw: noncon #yandere toshinori yagi #yandere all might #yandere x reader #yandere mha #yandere my hero academia

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the--sad--hatter · 3 years

Text

Steam - Chapter 1 (Loki x Reader)

Warnings - Loki, Smut, Violence & Gore, Swearing, Death, Angst, Dark Humour, Crack Humour, Shenanigan’s, Mutual Pining

Pairing - Loki X Reader (Slow Burn Romance), Enemies to Frenemies to Idiots in Love

Reader Description - Female, No physical descriptions, Only referred to by nicknames & Petnames (No use of Y/N)

Description/Blurb -

“So how’d you get the firepower? What’s your origin story?” Stark asked, peering at you curiously.

“Uh, this is my origin story…” You winced, sighing when he motioned for you to elaborate, “I got these powers about three days ago.”

It’s a tale as old as time, boy meets girl, boy tries to invade girls mind, girl sets boy on fire, boy turns into angry blue boy, they become sworn enemies.

When you suddenly become imbued with a power you have no idea how to control, Nick Fury picks you up and dumps you on The Avengers doorstep, deciding that they are best people to turn you from a wacky novice into a force to be reckoned with.

The power burning inside you has the potential to make you a hero, or destroy you completely, but your new fire based abilities are more than they appear, and in a stroke of spectacularly bad luck, The God of Mischief is the most qualified teacher to mentor you. With Loki guiding you, will you ever learn to control your power? Will you ever make it as an Avenger? Or will you crash and burn?

Only one thing is absolutely certain, when fire and ice collide, things are bound to get… steamy!

Chapter One - Ice Breaker

It was every bit as imposing as you’d imagined it would be, not that you’d ever imagined seeing it under these circumstances.

“Are you coming?” Fury barked at you, breaking you out of your slack-jawed awe.

You snapped your mouth closed and tore your eyes away from the legendary tower, looking at the doors where Fury was impatiently waiting for you.

“Coming!” You squeaked, scurrying over to him, “It’s just when you said you were taking me somewhere where I could safely learn to control my powers, I was sort of picturing an underground bunker in the desert, not the freaking Avengers Tower!”

“I utilise the assets I have, why would I send you away when I have a team of perfectly capable super-powered individuals?” He asked wryly, leading you across the lobby and straight past the security teams who did nothing to stop you both as you made your way into an elevator.

“I’m just saying, a heads up would have been nice.” You muttered petulantly, crossing your arms over your chest and tucking your hands out of sight.

You felt him look at you and studiously refused to meet his eye, staring instead at the numbers above the door as you were carried all the way to the top of the Tower.

“Heads up, you’re meeting The Avengers.” He shot back.

You could say what you liked about the former director of Shield, he was true to his word, because the elevator doors wooshed open to reveal a waiting crowd of Avengers, all of them staring at the man next to you with varying levels of annoyance and/or distrust. You diligently pattered after Fury as he stepped forward to greet them, looking around the room reverently.

The first person you laid eyes on was Tony Stark, Iron Man; the billionaire who had kicked off the modern age of hero’s, and next to him, Captain America, the first of the first, the OG Superhero. Stood behind the Captain was Sam Wilson, the Falcon and a personal favourite of yours, side by side with Bucky Barnes, the former Winter Soldier and poster-child for taking back control of your own fate. Clint Barton aka Hawkeye and the deadliest marksman in the world stood to the side with the Black Widow, deadliest person in the world full stop. In the back of the room two other figures were hanging back, emitting two very different aura’s. Doctor Bruce Banner eyed Fury with trepadition, and well-placed mistrust.

It was the last person in the room that the majority of your attention was reserved for, the tall, imposing god who skulked in the shadows. Contempt and boredom radiated from him, and you couldn’t safely say it was directed purely at Fury. He was also the only one who spared you more than a cursory glance, and you slowed to a stop as you found yourself trapped in his curious gaze. You stared back, trying to reconcile the villain who once tried to subjugate the planet with the one you were locking eyes with. It had been months since he had joined the Avengers, but it never stopped being strange to see him standing with them whenever you watched footage of them taking on whatever bad guy of the week they were battling. However, he had been fully cleared of any wrongdoing in the battle of New York, apparently he had been mind-controlled. As to why he was helping the Avengers, nobody really knew.

Someone cleared their throat loudly and you forced yourself to look away from the stupendously tall god, glancing around the room to see that you now had all eyes watching you expectantly. Apparently you’d zoned out for the introductions.

“’Sup?” You offered, waving in Tony Starks general direction.

“So you’re Fury’s fiery friend, what has that got to do with us?” Stark sighed.

“What, you think he bothered to explain his reasoning to me before dragging my ass up here?” You scoffed.

“She’s here because she has abilities, abilities that she is more likely to learn to handle among similarly gifted people.” Fury explained in a tone that brokered no argument.

Naturally, The Avengers argued.

“We don’t have anybody with fire abilities.” You heard Natasha Romanoff point out, just before you took the opportunity to zone out again.

You were absolutely certain that nobody cared very much what your opinion on the matter was, thankfully. You weren’t sure you had an opinion on the matter. It wasn’t like you had a lot of experience with these kinds of issues, and as far as you were away there wasn’t some superhero academy that you could enrol yourself in. Besides, you were much more interested in re-instating your staring competition with the god of Mischief.

In the brief time you’d been distracted, he’d stepped away from the shadows and moved closer to you, staring at you with his arms crossed.

You resisted the urge to inhale deeply, who knew ex-murderous gods would smell so nice? You looked up, and then up again.

“How tall are you?” You asked incredulously.

His gaze flickered down at you impassively, while you stared back and tried to mentally calculate his height.

“I’m a Frost Giant.” He stated coldly.

“Oh in that case, you’re kinda short.” You scoffed.

You were flooded with immediate remorse but it was drowned out by amusement.

“I beg your pardon?” He demanded, uncrossing his arms and stepping into your personal space.

“Down boy.” Iron Man sniggered, stepping between you. “So how’d you get the firepower? What’s your origin story?” Stark asked, peering at you curiously.

“Uh, this is my origin story…” You winced, sighing when he motioned for you to elaborate, “I got these powers about three days ago.”

“So you’re a baby.” He stated matter-of-factly.

“If I say yes does that mean I can just sit on the floor and cry until someone picks me up and holds me?” You asked, fully willing to give it a go.

It had been three days since your life had literally gone up in flames, three days of pinning your arms at your sides, afraid to close your eyes, afraid to let your guard down for even a split second, afraid to allow yourself to feel even an iota of emotion.

“So how did it happen?” The Captain asked firmly, getting the conversation back on track before you could find out if anyone would volunteer a hug.

“I, well, I kind of…” You trailed off and looked at Fury for help, but he just stared back at you, the bastard.

All eyes were on you as they waited for you to explain, nobody offering any kind of help. You exhaled forcefully and slumped your shoulders, tucking your chin so you didn’t have to look at them anymore.

“I ate a bomb.” You whispered.

There was a very long beat of silence before it was broken by several voices all at once.

“I’m sorry, what?” Stark demanded.

“What did it taste like?” The archer wondered, looking at you almost giddily.

“She didn’t eat a bomb.” Fury finally stepped in to clarify, “She absorbed the blast, after failing to defuse it.”

“Why was a civilian defusing a bomb in the first place?” Captain Rogers asked sharply, glancing at you in concern before turning back to Fury with a hard expression.

“I’m not a civilian, I’m actually an Agent.” You reasoned.

“She’s an Agent-In-Training.” Fury rebutted. “It was her first mission in the field.”

“Baby.” Stark reiterated, faking a cough and smirking at you when you scowled at him.

That was true, and you still didn’t think it was entirely your fault that the bomb had gone off. Yes you’d failed to diffuse it, but you were supposed to be watching the perimeter when you’d stumbled across the explosive device. It had less than thirty seconds on the clock, and you’d stupidly chosen to spend those seconds trying to stop it detonating instead of running away.

“And you put her on bomb duty? Were you trying to get her blown up?” The Black Widow demanded, and you almost laughed until you saw the serious expression on her face.

“There wasn’t supposed to be a bomb there, she was in the wrong place at the wrong time.” Fury shrugged, like it was inconsequential.

To him it probably was.

“She is still in the room, and I was exactly where you told me to be, when you told me to be there. If your intel was bad, that’s on you Mr Superspy.” You snapped.

“Oh I see it now!” Stark briskly announced, “You’re trying to pawn her off on us because she’s too sassy for you.”

“Precisely.” Fury admitted, surprisingly.

“In the words of shortstack over there,” You hissed, gesturing at Loki “I beg your pardon?”

“You don’t have the temperance to be an Agent.” Fury told you blankly, not bothering to soften the blow by at least telling you this in private instead of in front of the world greatest heroes.

“I’d take that as a compliment.” Stark assured you.

“You’re telling me I’m fired? Literally. Because I got blown up, through no fault of my own?” You huffed, clenching your firsts in an effort to keep your emotions from manifesting in a fiery inferno of rage.

“Because you choose to try and handle a bomb you had no training to handle, instead of pursuing the target.” Fury amended, unphased by your distress.

You bit back your retort because you knew it wouldn’t matter to him in the slightest. You couldn’t reason with him, couldn’t explain that you had made the choice not to pursue the target who’d planted the bomb, because you had to try and stop it exploding in a building filled with innocent people. Maybe Fury was right after all. Maybe you weren’t suited to being an Agent, because an Agent would have known that they couldn’t stop the bomb but they could stop the bomber. They would have let a hundred innocent people die and stopped the killer from killing a thousand more the next time. You weren’t an Agent because you’d chosen to die trying to save the hundred, and trusted in Fury and Hill to take down the Bomber.

Of course, that wasn’t what had happened, and in the end nobody had died.

“None of this explains how you ‘ate’ the bomb.” Clint Barton pointed out, and it was a good observation.

“That’s because we don’t have an explanation. She went through the standard medical tests in her training, and all her bloodwork and scans indicated she was fully human. She walked into that building as a human being, and walked back out after absorbing a bomb, as who the hell knows what.”

“So you’ve never done anything like this before?” Dr Banner asked you, speaking directly to you for the first time.

“Not even remotely. I mean my eyes water when I eat chilli.” You shrugged.

“Fascinating.” Banner muttered. “Inhuman?” He asked, turning to Stark.

“Unlikely, she would have probably noticed going through Terragenesis.” Stark responded. “Mutant?” He shot back.

“No, the mutant gene would have shown up in testing.” Dr Banner sighed, looking you over with a scientifically calculating eye. “Can you explain what happened in more detail?”

“Sure, bomb went boom, I went AHHHHHH, and then it was all bright and hot and then the boom went away.” You told them.

“So how do we know that it was you? What if something else contained the blast?” Someone asked, and you looked around before you finally realised it was Sam Wilson who had spoken.

“No, it was… it definitely me.” You sighed.

“How do you know?” Bucky Barnes interjected, backing up the Falcons line of questioning.

That was the million dollar question. How could you be sure that you had anything to do with the bomb, that you had been imbued with fire power?

“During the post-mission de-brief, there was an incident.” You alluded, side-eying Fury and taking a not-so-subtle step away from him.

“Please tell me you tried to set him on fire?” Barton asked giddily, looking between you and your former boss.

When Fury levelled you with a glare and you developed a sudden vested in the ceiling, the Archer sniggered joyfully. You chanced a look around the room and saw that Barton wasn’t the only one exhibiting mirth at the idea of Fury being set ablaze by your.. well, your fury.

“He was yelling at me!” You defended, taking yet another step back when his glare intensified.

“You’re lucky you had no aim and only managed to set fire to the table.” He snapped.

“I think you were the lucky one.” Stark sniggered at Fury.

“Do you want her or not?” Fury sighed.

“Do I get a say in this?” You objected.

“No.” Fury, Stark, Romanoff, and Loki said in unison.

“I can run some tests to figure out what happened to you, if it’s reversible.” Banner offered comfortingly. “With your permission of course.”

“I’m gonna go stand over there with him.” You huffed, making a beeline for the doctor and awkwardly hiding behind him.

“Yeah, we’ll take her, should be an interesting riddle to solve.” Stark shrugged.

Captain Rogers and his buddies glanced at you before appearing to have a silent conversation.

“She can stay here while Stark and Banner figure out what happened, and we can go from there.” The Captain finally decided.

“We’ll take good care of her.” Loki added with a charming smile.

His eyes said something completely different, and you had a sick feeling that you were going to be made to pay for your short jokes.

“Glad I meet your approval; I was worried I was going to fall short.” You sarked, immediately resisting the urge to punch yourself in the face.

“Approval has nothing to do with it. Of all The Avengers, who do you think will be responsible for testing your abilities? You would do well to remember that I am more than mischief and lies, I am the god of chaos and fire.” He warned you cockily, visibly delighting in the way your grin faltered.

You shot a pleading look around the room, but nobody was refuting Loki’s claim. In fact, they were nodding thoughtfully, or in Stark’s case; shrugging apologetically at you. You turned back to Loki, ignoring the deep sense of foreboding in your stomach.

“Well Fe-Fi-Fo-Fuck.”

I have been trying to get back into writing for so long, and this is my last attempt. If this doesn’t work then I am out of ideas.

I know this is a boring start but I have been re-working and rewriting it for days and I can’t improve it. If you enjoyed any part of this, please do tell me! If you didn’t, then tell me that as well. Just give me any feedback at all, I’d appreciate it so so so so so much.

For those of you unaware (especially on AO3), I haven’t been writing for a while because my estranged mother passed away and it brought up issues that needed to be dealt with, but all that is over with now. Thank you to everyone who sent supportive messages and was patient with me ❤

Steam Taglist (Open, please send an ask to be added)

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@myfandomlife-blog @cateyes315 @ibraggins27 @midgardian-mistress @cinnamonmouse8 @nonsensicalobsessions @sarahs-castle-of-clouds @marvelsangels @queenneso @momobaby227 @lovely-lynns-likes @thelastemzy @aroundnothingsoundsright @bluemoon1066 @iluvsumbucky @astridmargrethe @delicatelygloriousphoenix @lisas-stuff-and-junk

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@helloimanavenger @littleredstarfish @dilaila95 @buckysknifecollection @justellu @spnrvt @deathofmissjackson @sexyvixen7 @fairislesheets @rvgrsbrns @dahkness @jazztherebel @tell-me-a-poem @hiddles-rose @severepienerdturkey @life-wanderer @unlikelygalaxygiver @fangirlwithatrowel @abo4280ooof @destiel-artemis @dilaila95 @tarastudiesalot @toxic-pineapple @for-the-love-of-the-fandom @breezy1415 @chaoticfiretaconerd @marvelfansworld @stareyedplanet @themusingsofmany @zeannastardust @littleredstarfish @sammyissassy @alexakeyloveloki @kaz22992 @inquisitor-selvala @lianadelphius @happybookmuffin @tony-stank3 @amoonagedaydreamer @dropthepizza346 @my-drowning-in-time @lianadelphius @belles-garden @lieswithoutfairytales @rororo06 @lookalivefrosty @stuckupstucky @blackjay04 @thefallenbibliophilequote @solarsystembitch @thefifthmaraud3r @smokeandnailz @marvelsangels @thefridgeismybestie @sigyns-world @demirooijakkers @the-lake-is-calling @the-swedish-fist @thelastemzy @yet-another-fan-girl9 @sassy-potato-yall @legend-o-zelda

#Loki #Loki x Reader #The Avengers #Avengers x Reader #Deadpool

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chadillacboseman · 3 years

Text

Domestic

Pairing: Sub-Zero (Bi-Han) x F!Reader

Word Count: 1.5k

Warnings: Mentions of violence, blood, unprotected sex. It's got some fluff, too, lads.

A/N: I have mental health issues. I know. This is super OOC but I do NOT give a shit.

You knew better than to expect any domesticity from Bi-Han.

He was a Lin Kuei assassin and had probably killed more people than you were comfortable considering. Some nights he would stumble in, armor covered in blood, and just collapse on the bed, barely able to shuck the heavy plating before succumbing to sleep.

Other times, in the dark of night, Bi-Han’s cold breath would fan across the back of your neck, and shivers would run the length of your spine. He would move behind you, pull up your nightgown, and gently fuck you in the quiet of the night, his cold body pressed against yours. When he finished, he would place a chilled kiss at the base of your neck before rolling over to sleep.

Even if he didn’t have a mission, he’d be up before sunrise, training his mind and body to be a more effective killer. Before leaving the room, however, he would always kiss you on the forehead and make sure you were covered by the duvet.

You had no idea why Bi-Han had chosen you to see this side of him.

He was a ruthless assassin and had the power to freeze men to the core with his touch. You knew that there were people out there who feared him like a wraith in the dark, and that there were forces in the world outside yours that were far beyond your comprehension.

And yet, here was the mighty assassin, curled into your arms with his armor cast aside.

Vulnerable. At your mercy.

Some nights, you patched his wounds while he sat on the edge of the bed or the bathtub. Although his body healed more quickly than a normal person’s, he could still get infections and even if he’d never admit it, he liked having someone dote on him from time to time.

When Bi-Han spoke of his childhood, it was bereft of any fondness. He had been trained from the time he could walk to be a flawless killer- there had been no loving parent or soft touches to soothe his wounds. He once spoke of a time he had fallen from a tree and broken his leg; his punishment had been to walk four miles before he was allowed to rest.

You wondered how anyone could do that to a child, but chose not to dwell on it. You could give him all of the love and care he had been deprived of in the Lin Kuei training and though he didn’t say it often, you knew he cared very deeply for you.

Of course there were nights when you worried, believing Bi-Han had finally been killed when the clock hit 2am and beyond. When the curling black smoke and cold air finally erupted in your living room, you would run to him, careful not to bump whatever part of his body he was favoring, and kiss his cold skin just above the mask.

Tonight was one of those nights for worrying. You watched as the hands on the clock ticked past 2am, then 3am.

You were exhausted.

This was the latest Bi-Han had ever been, and the writhing coil of anxiety was moving like a serpent in your chest.

4:00am.

Your eyelids drooped and you pulled the blanket up over your body on the couch. Sleep was within reach, even through the worry.

4:30am.

You were asleep in earnest when the room grew cold and tendrils of black fog snaked through the dead air. Bi-Han stepped out of the whirling darkness and spotted you, fast asleep, on the couch.

Guilt. He had forgotten what that felt like.

The assassin discarded his armor and scooped you into his arms, making a track for the bedroom with you held tight against his broad chest. It was the chill of his breath that woke you as he set you down in the bed.

“Bi-Han-” you breathed, throwing your arms around him, “I was so worried.”

Another pang of guilt. Foreign territory to the assassin.

“Sorry.”

A weak apology to soothe your wounds- like a bandaid on an open heart surgery. Your eyes were shining in the darkness, brimming with tears threatening to spill down your pretty face.

“It’s okay.” A lie, and a bad one at that, “I’m just glad you’re home.”

Home.

He never thought he’d call a place home- let alone a place he shared with someone else.

Someone he loved. Something he never thought he was capable of.

If Bi-Han’s father could see him now, he’d make him do six miles on a broken leg. He was still a ruthless killer, sure, he’d done things he’d never tell you of for fear of the way it would break your heart.

But he could be soft with you.

He wanted to be soft with you.

In the moonlight, the warrior’s eyes were striking- bright blue-white and laser-focused on you. He hoped you knew how he felt, or even a fraction of it. Just enough to know that he was sorry for the late nights and the bloodstains on your rug. For keeping you up with worry and depriving you of a normal life.

“I am sorry, xīn'ài.” a slip into his mother tongue in the moment, something unavoidable when emotions ran high.

You moved a hand to the cool skin of his face and he closed his eyes at the touch, so delicate and loving, something he knew he didn’t deserve.

“It’s alright, Bi-Han,” your voice was barely more than a whisper.

He moved his mouth to yours and caught your lips in a frigid kiss that made the hairs on the back of your neck stand on end. He wrapped one large arm around you and pulled you into his lap, legs straddled over him, without breaking the kiss.

Bi-Han gripped your hips, sliding his hands up under your nightgown and kneading the tender flesh with his cold fingertips. He broke away from your mouth and trailed chilled kisses along your jawline and down your neck, pausing to suck gently at the skin and eliciting a breathy moan from you.

The assassin fumbled with the front of his under armor for a moment before freeing his cock, rock hard and dripping with precum. You lifted up slightly from his lap and sank down on him, letting out a whimper as he filled you.

“So good, so tight for me,” Bi-Han breathed as he guided you up and down on his length.

You gripped his broad shoulders and let out a low whine, his name like a prayer on your lips as he bottomed out over and over again, splitting you open and putting you back together with every thrust.

You buried your head in the crook of his neck, overwhelmed by the sensation of the assassin driving into you. He snaked a hand between the two of you and his cold thumb went to work on your clit, bringing a cry of pleasure from your throat.

“Bi-Han-” you whimpered against him.

“Mmm?” his cold breath brushed against your ear.

You were so close it was unbearable, you felt like you were going to explode. The assassin’s lips practically touched your flesh when he spoke again-

“Come for me, xīn'ài,” he whispered.

And with that, you let out a choked sob and clenched around him, stars erupting in your vision. A few more deep strokes and Bi-Han was right behind you, spilling a burst of cold seed inside you with a grunt.

The assassin let you catch your breath before lifting you gently from his softening cock and lying you down in the bed. You looked so beautiful- skin covered in a thin sheen of sweat and lips swollen from his frost-bound kisses. He laid down beside you and placed his lips gently to your forehead, eliciting a contented hum from you.

Bi-Han trailed his cold fingertips over every bite and red mark he had left behind on your skin, soothing them with the chill of his flesh.

And the two of you fell asleep like that- you felt safe in his broad arms. Bi-Han would never admit it, but he felt safe in yours, too.

#bi-han x reader #sub-zero #sub-zero x reader #mortal kombat #bi-han #mortal kombat movie

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asupernaturalgirl · 3 years

Text

Carryin’ Our Child

Daryl x Reader

Request: Hiiii! Your writing is amazing, I recently found your blog and I’ve been obsessed! Could I please have a one shot with some extra protective Daryl because you both found out you are expecting a baby? The timeline could be S9/S10. Thank youuuu!

A/N: Confession, I haven’t watched past season 7 of The Walking Dead *shocked gasps*. I’m sorry. I attempted to write it from what I know on Season 9, but I’m very sorry if I got something wrong. I tried my best. I hope everyone enjoys this one. Very fluffy.

Warnings: fluff, protective Daryl, pregnancy

Adjusting the old plates covered with only the crumbs of what was once a full plate of food on your hip, you opened the door from the jail cell that held Negan and walked into the light once again. One of the Alexandrians had asked you to bring him some food as they had been too busy to get it done.

Before heading there, you had made sure Daryl wasn’t anywhere near you. He was so busy with trying to deal with the drama around Negan’s imprisonment as well as trying to build several pieces of infrastructure that you didn’t want to make him more anxious with something else. If he knew you’d gone to feed Negan, he would have lost his mind.

You dropped off the extra plates at the kitchens and decided to go back to the house. Your head was beginning to ache and your stomach was starting to feel uneasy. You’d heard the pregnancy symptoms in the first trimester could be absolutely brutal and they were living up to the hype. You and Daryl had only told Rick, afraid that informing too many people could put you in an awkward position. Rick was ecstatic and gave you both as many tips as he could.

You slowly walked towards the bathroom, taking your usual seat by the toilet that you’d grown so accustomed to. Everytime your stomach would lurch, you would lean over the bowl, trying to let it out so you could feel better, but it never came. Instead, you sat there in pain, wishing it would stop.

Soon, the sound of the front door opening and closing shut echoed through the house. Daryl’s voice projected to the upstairs where you sat. “I’m home. Where are ya?”

“In the bathroom,” You answered quickly, leaning over once again. You felt absolutely pathetic when the drool began to pool in your mouth.

Daryl clunked up the stairs, his footsteps letting you know he was getting closer. His eyes softened as he peeked in through the doorway. “Ya don’t feel good?”

You shook your head, your body forcing you to gag once again. Your boyfriend quickly rushed forward, holding your hair out of your face as you finally let out the sick you’d been holding in. You sighed once you were finished, learning back against the man behind you. He rubbed your shoulders slightly. “Thank you.”

“You should be cursing me for doin’ this to ya.”

You rolled your eyes and turned around. After finally getting everything out, you felt much better. “Well, I think having a child is worth being sick for a few weeks in the beginning.”

He smiled. He joked that he ‘did this to you’ because he felt bad that he couldn’t take the pain from you, but in reality, he was excited. You’d never seen him so thrilled about something. He wanted to talk about it all the time and constantly thought of different names. He secretly wanted a daughter, although he would never tell anyone.

“Can you help me to the bed?” You asked, using his strength to hoist yourself up. He assisted you in walking. You were weak after being sick and once you were in the bed, he brought you up some water as well.

He laid down with you, pulling up your shirt so he could see your belly. Daryl gently ran his hand over your belly. “You be nice to your mom. She’s tryin’ her best.”

People who were only slightly familiar with Daryl would have never seen or even thought of him in this way. They would have likely imagined he would be a terrible father. You were so pleased that he loved the unborn child so much. It meant everything in the world. He kissed you softly as he laid back down beside you. “I feel like they’re gonna love you more than anything else.”

He immediately shook his head at your comment. “They’re gonna love ya so much, ya can’t even imagine. I can tell. You’re gonna be the best mom in the whole world.”

His words warmed your heart. There were always doubts about the limitations of being parents in the world but you knew that if the child had the two of you, they would be just fine. You and Daryl would give parenting everything you had and it would pay off in the end, even if it was hard in the moment.

“What did ya do today?” He questioned, unconsciously rubbing your pregnant belly, even if you weren’t showing yet.

You had to come up with an excuse and quickly. The first thing that came to mind was a friend of both of yours. “Aaron needed some help with cleaning his arm up a bit. I went over there to give my assistance.”

His brows furrowed and he nervously bit at his fingernails. “Michonne told me she saw you over by Negan’s cell.”

Your heart dropped. You hadn’t thought that someone might have seen it and mentioned it casually to Daryl just out of habit. If you had told her to keep the secret, she definitely wouldn’t have told Daryl, but she had no idea. “Someone was busy and asked if I would bring food to him. Daryl, it was no big-”

He cut you off, immediately standing up with an angry expression on his face. He ran a hand through his tangled hair. You sat up quickly, leaning against the backboard. You hated making him feel this way. He was so inexperienced when it came to relationships and actually worrying about someone’s safety, you tried to live your life so he didn’t have to actually worry about it.

“How could ya do this, Y/N?” He gestured wildly, his voice holding an annoyed tone. “Why would ya risk going in there?”

You stood as well, understanding now there might be an argument. “He’s not going to just attack me for no reason, Daryl. I was safe. I didn’t even step foot in the cell.”

“He’s killed so many people. Do you think he wouldn’t kill ya?”

“I’m in my first trimester, Daryl. I can’t just sit in bed all day waiting for you to get home to do things for me. That would not only destroy my mental health, but my physical health as well.”

He wasn’t sure what to say. You could nearly see all of the emotions in his eyes. Anger, concern, worry. He was feeling so conflicted, so absolutely broken inside. He wanted nothing more than for you to stay locked in a room all day so he could make sure you were safe, as impractical as it was.

“I’m just askin’ that you try not to do anything dangerous, Y/N,” He began to calm slightly, holding your shoulders as he got closer to you. “You’re carryin’ our child in you right now. I just don’t want to have to worry all the time that you’re doin’ somethin’ reckless.”

You knew that this anger, this concern, came from a desire to protect you. His self-esteem was generally pretty low and one thing he actually felt he brought to the table was protection. He knew he was capable of protecting you and he would do it even if it took his own life. “I’ll try, Daryl. I know you just want myself and our baby to be safe.”

He nodded, bringing you in for a tight hug. “I want to tell everyone. I don’t want people askin’ ya to do things. If they know you’re pregnant, they’ll be more careful with some of the jobs they give ya.”

At first, you were hesitant. You were enjoying the fact that this baby was a secret between you and Daryl. The more you thought about it, though, the more you realized it was probably a good idea. People would begin to either notice or assume soon if you didn’t tell them directly. You slowly nodded your head.

“I agree, Daryl. It’s time to tell everyone.”

#daryl dixon #daryl dixon x reader #daryl x reader #daryl x you #daryl dixion imagine #one shots #imagines #the walking dead #the walking dead one shots #the walking dead imagines

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aurora-the-kunoichi · 3 years

Text

A Change For The Better

A comfort piece, mention of verbal abuse.

A slumbering giant lies beside you; massive, intimidating in his own right but when he slept you were reminded of just how gentle the mutant could be. Those hands, enormous three fingered mitts capable of such destruction even death if permitted but those digits brought pleasure and comfort beyond anything you could have dreamed.

Your finger tips glide over the green scales of his beak watching him as the handsome terrapin mumbles what sounds like your name in his sleep. His lips curl into a soft smile while he leans into the touch and your heart swells with adoration. The turtle was extraordinary, different and absolutely perfect and he was yours, every rigid, powerful inch of the colossal mutant yours.

He wasn’t what you had expected when you prayed for someone caring, someone that loved without consequence but you wouldn’t change anything, he was just what you needed.

You remember those words like it was yesterday; stupid, pathetic, dumb, the bouts of anger fueled by his bad moods. That child before left you full of anxiety, unhappy and emotionally drained with his rage and insecure shortcomings. Those years you endured his abusive verbal tirades, years wasted on a festering ball of hate that projected his weakness onto you. A verbal punching bag that he used regularly then acted like nothing had happened a short time later.

When you finally had the courage to rid yourself of his toxic behavior you felt like a weight had been lifted. No longer walking on eggshells or dreading going home, your confidence returned and that fateful day that changed your life for the better finally came.

You had been sitting on your balcony watching the city come alive, when you heard something above you. You lived on the top floor so the roof was just above and you were the only one that utilized that space.

Curiosity killed the cat but you still climbed the final stairs to the roof to investigate. Using the light of your phone to find you patio lights, you plugged in the cord and your little section of roof illuminated. Just then a shadow just to your left slipped back into the shadows.

“Please.” You urged quietly stepping towards your guest. Truth be told you had sensed this presence before, many times as you took your verbal lashings. It was funny, you really hadn’t thought about it when it happened but your subconscious knew someone else was there with you those nights, listening, waiting.

Again you called, “Please come out. I’d like to meet you.”

The silence bore on for a few moments before his voice came through the darkness, low, rough yet it held such an unthreatening tone. “I don’t want to scare you.”

“Are you here to hurt me?”

“N-No, I would never…” He responded quickly and adamantly and there you could see the movement in the darkness. He was big, very big but you weren’t afraid.

“Then I promise you won’t scare me.” With your words you can see him step forward, but just one step, he stopped just before the line of light that ran across the rooftop. He was hesitating.

“I’m not like other men.”

With a soft titter you let out a long breath and closed your eyes, your hands moved over each other fingers tangling and untangling with your excitement. “God, I hope not. I would be disappointed if you were like them.” Those words gave him hope and he stepped forth into the light. Eyes lighting up with admiration you watched in awe as his enormous green muscled form came into your life.

Since that fateful night your life had made a change for the good, you had never felt so loved in your life. Appreciated and adored you had never been happier. He was a champion of the city but to you he was your savoir, protector and had brought you peace.

For someone who lived in the sewer he smelled amazing and tasted even better. Those lips of his were magic, leaving trails of fire along your flesh. His body though, that immaculate temple bestowed upon him from the heavens itself was a gift in itself. Every inch of him was well defined, thick, and built for bringing you to the highest peaks of pleasure. Nothing like anything you had ever experienced with anyone else. Years of training had left him talented in so many ways that had nothing to do with ninjutsu.

His face was not traditional being half human and half turtle in all, but you found him handsome, sexy and quite frankly perfect. And those eyes, vibrant and full of life and when they were locked with yours you had no room to breathe, just utterly mesmerized by his gaze.

If his looks weren’t enough the terrapin was brave, honorable and the most loving man you had ever met. Dotting, caring, grateful and you felt blessed.

The warmth of his hand sliding over your exposed hip broke you from your thoughts. Your hand had found its way to his cheek resting the heat of your palm there and those sparkling vivacious orbs were trained on you leaving you once again breathless. His hand abandoned your hip resting on the top of your hand to move your palm to the warmth of his mouth. Lips parted and the turtle pressed a kiss to your hand and set it back where it had been.

“Where were you just now?” he asked softly running his long fingers through your hair before running down your arm to rest on your hip once again.

You toke this moment to realize you suddenly felt he was too far away and you moved swiftly into his arms which he eagerly allowed. His arms wrap around you and the mutant rolled to his shell pulling you onto his chest. Both your hands gripped the top of his plastron and you pressed your ear to the platelets just above his beating heart. It’s strong and the rhythm steady, a reminder he was real, flesh and blood, not your imagination.

When his large hands ran down your back in soothing circles you were reminded he had asked you a question and you let out the breath you didn’t even know you were holding. “I was thinking of where I’ve been and where I am now and how so very lucky I am.”

Using your hands as leverage you push up and your lips move over the top of his chest with a few sloppy wet kisses. When you look upon his face you can see his smile in the moonlight, he looked content and happy giving you a sense of calm in the moment. “What are you smiling about?”

“That’s funny.” He started. “I was just thinking the same thing.” His left hand came forward and cupped your face running the pad of his thumb over your bottom lip. “Can I- can I tell you something?” His voice wavered just a bit and he suddenly looked a little sheepish.

“Of course, you can tell me anything.”

The terrapin let out a deep breath and you could see him mentally gather his courage. Curious and curiousier.

“That night we first met……”

He paused for a moment as if worried you’d get upset with the next words he was about to speak. You roll your cheek into his large palm and give him his reprieve. “That wasn’t the first time you had been up there was it?”

“No.”

You wanted to laugh but you didn’t want him to feel like you were laughing at him, “I know.”

“You do?” his head lifted a little off the pillow in shock.

“I could sense you up there each time……” you didn’t want to finish the sentence.

Slowly his hand moved from your cheek down to the back of your neck squeezing it gently for reassurance. “I was out on patrol one night and I heard him yelling at you. I stayed, listening, ready to jump in if things….escalated. Each time I was out I made sure to stop by and check on you. There were a few times I watched you from the adjacent building making dinner tortured by the smells of what you were creating. I wanted to taste them so bad but….he was there. Then I didn’t hear him for days, no shouting just the calm presence of just you. That night when that brick shifted under my foot was the best ninja fail ever. I finally got to meet you.”

A sudden rush of love swarmed your heart, tears ready to spill and you surged forward capturing his mouth with yours. The mutant accepted the kiss hungrily opening his mouth at the urgent push from your tongue. They mingled swiping over each other until he rolled bringing you beneath him. He quickly settled himself between your thighs and rocked his hips forward.

You could feel how quickly he filled out as the length traveled up your inner thigh fueled by his growing arousal. There was no barrier between you both and you quickly realized how easily you could be stuffed full with every inch of him. Rolling your hips down you showed him just how eager you were and broke the kiss panting against his lips.

“I love you.” You gasped as he plunged forward locking himself inside you.

“Always.”

#tmnt #tmnt leonardo #tmnt raphael #tmnt donatello #tmnt michaelangelo #verbal abuse #comfort #slight smut

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1025cherrystreet · 3 years

Text

order for me, please?

y/n is too anxious to order for herself at a restaurant, so harry does it for her.

disclaimer: did not proofread this, nor do i really like how i ended it. very much rushed, very much lost the plot i feel lmao. any feedback is appreciated!!!

warnings: talks about anxiety quite a lot, other than that just fluff. kinda short soz <3

Harry rubs soft circles into your side while you're cuddled into him on the couch. The light coming in from the window casts a yellow glow into the room, little rainbow beams decorate random spots in your living room from the glass.

You've been a bit anxious today. The worst part of it is that you have no clue as to why you've been so anxious. Nothing particularly stressful has occurred since you woke up, but your heart hasn't stopped racing, your breathing has been quite shaky, and your palms are clammy. Some days are just harder than others, you know this, but it doesn't dismiss the fact that it's still difficult to even get through the day sometimes.

Since the moment you woke up in Harry's warm clutch this morning, you felt off. That uncomfortable feeling in your tummy and the constricting nails that seem lodged in your throat were a not-so-warm welcome when you opened your eyes.

Having anxiety and knowing how hard it is for you, you know how hard it can be for the people around you as well. You felt guilty. You felt guilty because today was one of Harry's days off from work and he doesn't get many of them, always so busy. You didn't want to ruin what was supposed to be a good, relaxing, fun day.

But, when Harry wished you a good morning love, and you had opened your mouth to speak with glossy eyes, only to have the words get caught in your throat, he knew today wasn't a good one.

However, because Harry is such an amazing person and boyfriend, he knows how to go about handling your anxiety. He knows you. He knows that you just need a cuddle and a slow day with tea and a good meal. He knows when you start to get really worked up, you listen to Landslide by Fleetwood Mac because it reminds you of a sweet childhood memory. He knows you don't want to do much talking, but rather more watching TV. He knows you like to distract yourself on your bad days...and he knows how to do so.

So, after spending all morning and into the afternoon having tea and breakfast and taking your meds (along with a short cry), you're now cuddling on the couch mindlessly watching a movie. It's quiet in the house, the only sound coming from the television (and maybe your heart beating if Harry got close enough), but Harry swears you could be able to hear his thoughts from a mile away.

He worries about you sometimes. As does everyone who loves someone. He's never loved someone as much as he loves you and it scares him sometimes. He's not scared of falling out of love or deciding you guys aren't the best for each other, no. He's scared of not being enough for you. He knows you tell him that he's the love of your life and that he will always be enough for you, but a little part of him is scared that he might not be able to take care of you. Now, he's not saying in any way, shape, or form that he's not capable of taking care of you, because he can! He's just scared he might mess up and make your anxiety worse. He hates seeing you so out of it.

You're always the sunlight in every room, always smiling and so loving. You care so deeply for everyone around you, he admires it. He admires you. He loves you, so he hates that your mind can be mean to you at times.

See, his troubles with anxiety are far different from yours. Gratefully, his anxiety is more rational (still troubling, just more rational!) ... which is the complete opposite to yours. Your disorder is so irrational and crazy that, more often than not, you get so frustrated with yourself. Your brain makes up problems to be there that aren't there. You worry about nothing and everything all at once, feeling like you never get a break from the mental toll it has on you.

So with that, Harry hates seeing you so anxious. He knows you're so vulnerable and fragile in this state that he doesn't want to make anything worse for you, he wishes every day that he could just take all the worry and bad thoughts from your head and put them on himself instead, as long as it meant that you'd be your happy self again.

But, he knows that's not possible. He also knows that's it's okay to not be okay all the time, so he packs his wishes back into his brain and cuddles you closer. Hoping you can feel his love reverberate off every surface of this house to you.

Oddly enough, you almost feel as if you can. In your simultaneously busy yet silent mind, you can make out his affection in every circle he draws onto your skin with his fingertips, in every warm cup of tea he makes, and every sickly sweet kiss he presses onto your lips, forehead, and cheek. You know he loves you and you hope with everything that he knows you love him just as much, if not more.

With that thought running through your head, you turn to place a kiss to his chest, lightly tracing the butterfly (moth?) tattoo through his shirt. A content hum sounds from his lips and he squeezes you tighter before kissing the top of your head.

"I love you," He whispers, as if not to disturb the comfortable silence created in this space.

"I love you more," You whisper back, the tea earlier melting the nails in your throat just a little.

***

"Does Carrburritos sound good, lovie?" Harry asks, waiting on the edge of y'all's bed for you to finish getting ready.

Carrburritos is your favorite restaurant ever. Of course, you know that's why Harry chose it and the thought of him doing something as simple as that melts your heart at how sweet and thoughtful he is.

"Yeah, thank you, bubs." You respond softly, still in the fragile state you were in earlier, albeit definitely feeling better. You make your way to the edge of the bed where Harry is, slotting your body between his legs and bringing your hands up to play with the little curls on his neck.

"Alright, love. If you're ready to go, we can start to head over?" He asks, rubbing his big hands up and down along your sides.

You nod, leaning into kiss him. It's short, but your lips melt against his and no matter how many times you've kissed him, every single one still feels as magical as the first time.

The two of you get to the restaurant in 15 minutes time, settling at a table close to the window, in more of a quiet area. You feel better than you have all day, but the loud noises and the people in here are making your heart rate spike just a tad.

You and Harry talk softly about random topics, nothing about work or anything too heavy because you don't think you're able to handle that right now. You giggle at the jokes Harry will slip in ever so often and his face lights up at the sound, loving that he can make you feel comfortable after having such a hard day.

When the waitress comes by to get your drink orders, your leg starts bouncing a mile a minute under the table. You rehearse the five words just a sweet tea, please, over and over in your head for when she gets to you. Somehow, you manage to squeak out the order, avoiding eye contact as a nervous habit, but now that you realize you're doing it, the fear of coming across as rude now terrorized your mind. But, before you could do anything about it, the waitress walks away.

"You okay, baby?" Harry can sense your nerves, practically seeing them coming off of you. He reaches his hand across the table to hold yours, rubbing his thumb along your hand.

You just nod, trying to calm yourself. You're being so silly, you think to yourself. What? You're really about to cry because you forgot you have to talk to the waitress to order your food? It's a small encounter, you don't understand why your head makes it such a difficult task. You start to get frustrated with yourself, almost bringing tears to your eyes.

"Hey, tell me what you need, darling?" Harry coos, ducking his head to get in your line of sight since you've been stuck staring at the table top for the past few minutes.

You clear your throat in hopes to push down the tears and diminish the scratching feeling in your throat, although, it didn't do much.

"C-can you..." You huff, now frustrated that you can't even speak, "can you please order for me?" You glance at him, but not holding your gaze long before looking out the window at passing cars. You feel so stupid asking him to order for you. For fucks sake, you're not a child. And you can't tell if it's worse or better that you know he's going to have no problem ordering for you (or doing anything for you, for that matter). He'd do anything for you in a heartbeat.

A soft, loving smile pulls on his lips before he speaks.

"Of course, my sweet girl. It's no problem at all, you want what you normally get?" He asks and you offer a gentle nod.

If he's being honest, he actually likes you depending on him like this sometimes. Not to say that you need him to do everything for you, because you're more than capable, he would like to add! But, knowing that you're comfortable and trust him enough to be so open with him and ask him to do certain things for you makes him feel so...valuable? Maybe that's not the right word he'd like to use, but he just loves that he can do something for you to make your life easier. Your joy brings him joy.

When the waitress comes back, Harry orders for the both of you. Your heart could explode with the amount of adoration you have for the man sitting across from you. He just... gets it. He gets you.

So, with full bellies and calmed nerves, the two of you make your way back home and get settled in y'all's bed to cuddle for the rest of the night. Sprinkled thank you's and sweet kisses are shared while the two of you share warmth under the dozens of blankets adorning the bed.

"I'm sorry I wasted your day off, H." You whisper out into the air.

Pressing a peck to your shoulder, Harry tugs you to turn so you're facing him. He shakes his head, "Y/N, you didn't waste my day. Always perfect with you." His big hands squeezing lovingly at your waist as if he's trying to transfer his love for you to you.

"Look at me," He says when he catches your eyes cast down at his tattooed chest. "You will never, ever, be a burden, lovie. I know y'feel like you're botherin' me, or everyone, by jus'existing, but you've got it all wrong. Baby, I hate seeing you so anxious, and I know you can't control it, but tha's not gonna stop me from doin' everythin' I can to make you comfortable...and loved."

Your face breaks out in, probably, the biggest grin you've had all day at his assurance.

"I always feel comfortable and loved with you, H."

#Harry Styles #harry styles fanfiction #harry styles fic #harry styles fluff #harry styles x reader #harry styles x y/n #hshq #hs #harry #y/n #fluff #fine line #hs1 #anxiety #writing #1025cherrystreet #fanfic #fanfiction

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hualianff · 3 years

Text

Ice Skating AU

The road to the Olympics was quite lonely for figure skater XL. XL’s parents supported his dreams at the expense of his health and mental wellbeing. XL’s coach, JW, purposefully isolated XL from other competitors, which further distanced XL from the peers who were envious of his talent and achievements.

After the Olympics–XL winning silver, much to the public’s pride–he suffered from detrimental injuries as a result of being overworked and malnourished; JW had put him on a strict diet and training schedule that was ultimately unsustainable. It took over a year for XL to successfully settle a lawsuit with minimal media coverage and monetary consequences.

Three years have passed since he retired. XL currently owns his own rink, teaching kids and adult skating classes on the side.

When XL competed, everything was so stiff and uptight. It got to the point where he wasn’t enjoying it and came to resent the sport in the end. When XL teaches, however, he gets to laugh with his students. He happily lends them a hand when they need it (unlike JW, who was harsh and trained him as if he were a machine). He celebrates with a student every time they land an improving pirouette, relishes in the pure joy in their eyes.

That’s how ice skating should be. Challenging but always fun.

Now, XL truly loves the managing and teaching aspect of the new role ice skating plays in his life. Owning a rink also allows XL to occasionally indulge in his old skills and routines. With no pressure to perform for anybody but himself, XL is free.

HC, a film grad school student, is forced to take a skating class after losing a bet with HX. HX’s partner, who had come up with the consequence on HX’s behalf, suggested a place called Wings, claiming they are “just trying to promote a fellow friend’s business.”

HC almost didn’t follow through with the penalty. He already knew how to skate. (His natural ability to quickly pick up any athletic activity is envied by all his friends.) Upon seeing just who the teacher was, however, HC reconsidered.

After all, losing a bet is no joke.

HC attends the evening class. He wears tight-fitting jeans and a maroon, long-sleeved shirt with the sleeves rolled up to expose his forearms. The film student asks for extra help on his form despite knowing there’s not much to fix.

Understandably, XL is a bit baffled how this one tall, handsome stranger keeps asking to be guided into the correct position and spotted while skating across the rink when it seems he’s capable of balancing on his own. But XL is in no way complaining! And if XL happens to stare directly at HC’s small yet perky ass as he skates behind the taller man in case HC crashes, no one has to know.

One week passes. Then another. And another.

One month later, HC keeps coming back for classes.

“San Lang, you don’t have to pay for any more classes. You already skate well enough on your own!” XL informed his newest regular with a knowing smile.

“But then I won’t get to see Gege as often,” HC insisted with that charismatic smirk of his. XL hoped his face didn’t give away how flustered he was on the inside.

“W-well, the rink is not very busy one hour till closing time. You could always come in to practice. And I can watch you from the side!” XL said, looking off to the side. “Free of charge,” he added.

HC tilted his head, pondering. “Hmm, that sounds lovely. You’ll skate with me too?”

“Haha, sure! If there’s no one else on the rink,” XL laughs.

HC nodded. “Fair enough. However, I will be paying the amount I owe Gege. You cannot convince me otherwise.”

“San Lang-“

“No exceptions, Gege!”

They’re so close, XL realized. HC leaned forward on the counter which is the only barrier separating them from touching chests. XL allowed himself a couple glances at the muscled pec straining against the fabric of HC’s shirt.

“Well, San Lang can pay me back in a different way, m-maybe?” the former Olympian suggested. HC quirked an elegant eyebrow. He really was too pretty for XL’s poor heart to handle.

“Oh? What does Gege have in mind?”

Ignoring how suggestive HC sounded just then, XL built up the courage to utter one word: “Dinner?”

Much to XL’s surprise, HC visibly malfunctions by choking on his own spit, as if he hadn’t expected XL to be so forward. HC clears his throat right after, sputtering a measly, “O-oh?” 😳

XL doesn’t say anything else. He stands motionless while waiting for the younger man’s answer. 🥺

Luckily, XL doesn’t have to wait more than ten seconds before HC composes himself, standing back and placing his palms on the counter, satisfied.

“Dinner is perfect.”

XL: 🥰

HC: 😇

Things only got better when HC came around. Suddenly, XL wasn’t alone every night he closed. HC diligently visited every night he could when school and work permitted. They skate together as promised, HC commenting how generous XL is for offering special “private lessons.” XL is positive HC makes these innuendos on purpose and selfishly hopes HC doesn’t say them to anyone else but XL.

Funnily enough, XL has made his own fair share of innuendos–though completely unintentional.

(XL while skating with HC: “You’re doing so well, San Lang. Go faster!”

HC, raising an eyebrow: “Gege likes things faster?”

XL: 😳😳 “EEEK, I mean the speed you’re going at. I-it’s too slow-“

HC: *nods* “Whatever Gege wishes.” *winks at XL before zooming away*

XL, chasing HC: “Wait, how are you moving so quickly!?”)

(HC falls ill on a Friday when he would normally visit the rink. With no meds and a killer headache, HC texts XL to cancel their lesson.

XL: “San Lang, do you need medicine? I’ll come for you”

HC: “Gege 😳😳😳”

XL: “TO***** My finger slipped 😅”

HC: “Gege is getting quite bold now, isn’t he?”

XL: “San Lang!”)

***

It all boils down to a game of tag that got a little too competitive. It’s HC’s turn to tag XL. They’re zipping around the rink like flashes of light, the sound of their laughter echoing throughout the open space. Where XL is elegant yet sharp as he evades his pursuer, HC is aggressive and heavy as his skates dig into the ice in his haste catch XL.

“Gege is too fast for this poor San Lang. It’s too unfair,” HC complains, though he has no reason to as he gains up on XL for the third time.

“Ahhh, no no noooo!” XL shrieks as he’s chased into a corner by a sneaky HC. In his attempt to turn around to escape, XL is crowded against the clear divider between the rink and the lounge space by a smirking HC. One last duck is countered by HC rushing forward to lightly secure his hands around XL’s waist.

XL’s breath quickens as HC slowly leans down, a certain tenderness behind his eye that makes XL positively melt inside.

“Caught you,” HC mutters, his long braid falling haphazardly down his right shoulder. XL shyly looks down, pinned by HC’s inquisitive stare. A large hand comes to gently grip his chin, lifting his head to meet HC’s face. “Do I get a reward?”

“What does San Lang desire?”

HC’s eye flickers down to XL’s lips. XL’s eyelids lower in understanding. And relief. Then, under some unknown source of confidence, XL lifts his chin invitingly.

“It's your reward to claim,” he whispers. HC’s face splits in shock before morphing into an awed expression. He cautiously nudges XL’s nose with his own, making XL instinctually smile.

“Gege has indeed become bolder,” HC utters.

He promptly seals their lips, which curiously meld together before separating. A tentative peck. XL is the one to slant their mouths together again, pulling HC down by the lapels of his jacket. They experiment as they press together, pull apart, then meet once more in delicious bliss.

XL hums as HC takes control of the pace. The taller man holds XL close, caressing his waist as they languidly make out against the divider. XL whimpers as HC cups his cheek lovingly. There’s a warm brush against the seam of XL’s mouth. He gladly parts his lips, welcoming the sensual slide of HC’s tongue inside. HC doesn’t let up, eagerly licking along every hollow and crevice of XL’s mouth.

When XL playfully nips at HC’s upper lip, HC firmly presses XL against the divide, grunting as he’s provoked. Another cheeky nibble has HC pulling away, raising a challenging eyebrow at XL. Using the diversion to his advantage, XL surges up to wrap his arms around HC’s shoulder, running the flat of his tongue over HC’s lower lip before coaxing him into another sweet kiss. HC smiles approvingly, allowing XL to lead.

HC gradually shifts their weight so he skates backward, guiding them around the rink as they unhurriedly explore each other’s mouths. The scuffling of their skates paired with the slick sounds of their kissing serves as their own music and rhythm. XL surrenders to HC’s movements by resting most of his weight against the taller man.

“I knew you knew how to skate this whole time,” XL murmurs against HC’s lips. HC chuckles as he traces XL’s cupid’s bow, then places a chaste kiss to XL’s cheek.

“Always so perceptive, gege.”

“Hmm, it’s hot,” XL says without thinking. HC smiles in amusement as he switches to skating in circles, gaze never leaving XL.

“What is?”

“You skate with the confidence of a pro,” XL answers. He steals another kiss to HC’s lips, eyes crinkling as he smiles happily.

“Good thing I had the best teacher.”

“Oh, stop it, San Lang-“

“Make me.”

XL puffs his cheeks out in faux annoyance. But he can’t hold back a beaming grin as HC mimics his expression, over-exaggerating the pout that makes him look like a child whose candy was snatched out of his hands.

“If you insist,” XL sighs. He gives no other warning as he pounces, winding his legs around HC’s waist. HC effortlessly catches XL by underneath his thighs, pliant as XL crashes their lips together, hungry for much more.

(Brainchild with @no-one-says-hi)

#tgcf #heaven official's blessing #tian guan ci fu #hualian #hualian au #cerdrabbles #modernau #fluff #figure skater xl #film student hc #first kiss

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hyunjilicious · 3 years

Text

would you? [chris evans]

A/n: I literally word vomited this in less than 20 minutes and didn’t proof read it so please be kind lol. Also I haven’t written fluff in ages and I forgot how to do it!

Summary: Chris gets all riled up when you tell him you actually like and would date his character Ransom, from Knives Out. (FLUFF) 1.4k

Warnings: literally none? I think... alcohol if that’s a warning? Oh, and shitty writing. And tons of fluff. Like only fluff. Too much maybe. Really fucking domestic tho. I needed that tonight.

Above anything else, you loved late nights in. Like this one for instance, as it was well past 3am, and both you and Chris were still wide awake. You, in the living room, scrolling through the channels on your rarely used TV, and him, in the kitchen, grabbing glasses, making popcorn and picking the next bottle of wine.

“Baby!” you yelled over your shoulder as you suddenly stopped flicking through the channels and finally settled on one. Chris’s face took up the whole screen as Knives Out was playing, and you couldn’t help but smile.

He didn’t answer.

“Baby!” you called again, this time louder and more determined.

First, you heard a soft clatter and then a deafening bang. “You ok?” you asked, rushing to your feet and sprinting towards the kitchen.

As soon as you opened the door, your eyes landed on Chris. He was sitting on the floor, his back hunched dangerously low.

“Baby, what happened?” you whined, walking over to him. Then you saw it. “Is that my shake for tomorrow?”

Chris looked up, eyes all wide and apologetic as he tried to win you over with his dazzling smile, “I just wanted to taste it”

“You child” you laughed.

“I don’t know why I got so scared when you called me, I fucking dropped it” he confessed, standing up and grabbing a napkin, “You know when we were kids and were doing stuff we weren’t supposed to? That’s the kind of nervousness I was feeling while drinking your shake”

“I thought you were just tasting it?” you pouted.

Chris opened his mouth to respond, but then found himself at a loss for words. “Ok, fine!” he eventually exclaimed, "I don’t know why yours is so much better than mine?”

“That’s because you’ve got no patience to blend properly” you rolled your eyes.

“Oh, I blend!” he argued amused, pointing his finger at you, “It’s not the blending, I tell you”

You sighed, unable to hide your smile. Moving to the side to help carry the snacks to the living room, you spoke to him over your shoulder, “I still don't understand why you won’t let me make it for you”

“Because I’m a grown ass man, Y/n” he huffed, still inside the kitchen, “What kind of dipshit isn’t able to make his own protein shake?”

“You apparently” you laughed and then heard him mock you from the kitchen.

Yes, you loved staying in with him more than anything in the world.

A few minutes later, you had both settled on the couch, scrolling through Netflix in search of a movie worthy of your precious time.

Chris took a sip of wine and then nudged your side, “What did you wanna say earlier?”

“What?”

“When I dropped the shake” he clarified, “You had something to say”

You frowned with confusion for a second and then remembered, “Oh, yeah” you giggled, throwing some popcorn into your mouth, “Just how hot Ransom is, that’s all”

Chris narrowed his eyes, “America’s asshole?”

“The one and only”

“You think he’s hot?” he asked. He seemed to have gotten defensive, offended even.

“Yeah, of course” you said, “How could I not…?”

“He’s a dipshit”

“Yeah, he is-” you rolled your eyes, turning to look at him, “But it’s your fucking face Chris, how could I possibly not find him hot?”

He sighed, probably thinking there was no way for him to win this, “Ok, but you just like his face and that’s all. He wouldn’t be able to woo you or anything right?”

“I mean-” you giggled.

“Y/n!” Chris exclaimed, “What’s wrong with you? Tell me that if I didn’t exist and Ransom did, you wouldn’t date him”

“I’d date, marry and die by Andrew Barber if he existed” you laughed.

“Answer my question, baby” Chris said, trying his best to sound serious.

“I don’t know what you want me to say” you whined, cuddling into his side. “I like you” you added, looking up into his eyes.

“I like you too, doll” he smiled, gathering you into his arms and nudging your cheek, “That’s why I wanna know you wouldn’t date someone like Ransom”

“You’re the only I wanna date anyway-”

“We talked about this” Chris laughed, kissing your forehead before returning to look into your eyes, “I don’t exist, he does”

“I’d fucking date him, Chris. I think he’d be capable of loving me. And I think there’s a sweetheart hidden in there somewhere. I’m sure he just needs someone to love and care for him, that's all.”

He remained silent. Looked at you as if you had stolen all the words from his tongue. “Ok, but what if you try to express your opinion one time and he dismisses it in an instant and tells you to eat shit?”

“No one does that” you laughed.

“No, no, no!” Chris jumped, tapping your thigh, “Now I’m intrigued, I wanna see, what would you do?”

“Well” you contemplated, “Since the words would be coming out of your face, I’d probably just drop it and try again later”

Chris looked at you dumbfounded, shaking his head in disbelief as he thought of another scenario. “Let’s say you’re getting dressed to go out with some girlfriends and he tells you to stay at home because he’s horny”

“We’re in the middle of a pandemic, Chris” you laughed, proud of yourself for turning this against him, “He’d just be taking care of me. Who knows who my friends came in contact with anyway”

He sighed deeply, furrowing his brows. He tightened his hold around your frame as he thought of something else, his lips pressing soft, random kisses along your hairline.

“What if he’d talk down to you? I’m sure he’d always do that”

“Well-” you smiled, “You talk down to me and call me all sorts of names-”

“OUTSIDE OF SEX, Y/N!”

You stopped to think, “I’m sure he’d mean them with love?”

His eyes widened with exasperation as he grabbed your cheeks into his hands, “Baby, and I mean this in the most sweet and loving way possible, you have problems up here” he said, tapping your temple.

“Oh god” you chuckled and rolled your eyes, ushering his hands away, “Just let a girl love her man, jesus”

“Yes!” Chris yelled, exasperated, “Love me, not fucking Ransom Drysdale what the fuck!” “You are him!” you yelled back.

“No, I’m not! I don’t exist! We were just talking about that spoiled asshole, not me!” “Oh” you pouted, suddenly looking all confused, “Well if you put things like that…”

“Are you serious!?” Chris exclaimed, laughter interrupting his words, “Have we been having this dumb ass conversation for the last 10 minutes only because you have selective attention?”

“Well.. you know, it’s 3 am and I love you so like I got confused and just went with it”

“I love you too, my angel” Chris said, leaning down to kiss you lips, “I don’t know how you managed to finish college with that attention span but -”

“Hey” you laughed, playfully slapping his cheek.

“I’m kidding!” he shook his head, “You’re smart as fuck, that’s why I was worried you’d ever think some like Ransom was worth your time”

After going off on this topic for just a little bit longer, you decided it was actually time to go to sleep. After cleaning up and tidying the living room, Chris picked you up into his arms and started heading towards your bedroom.

“I love you so much” you whined, kissing the side of his neck.

“I love you too, baby” he said, “And I’m sorry I'm starting this again, but I wanna know if I got it right. The only reason you said you’d accept those things was because you thought they were coming from me?”

“Yeah” you yawned, “Why?”

“Cause that’s not ok either” he countered, walking into the bedroom and placing you on the bed.

“Wouldn’t you? Accept those things from me, I mean?”

“Well yeah, but…” Chris said, placing his hands on his hips as he tried to find a way to make the situation sound reasonable. There wasn’t one. “OK, we’re both mentally deranged” he concluded, and hopped into bed next to you, “Let’s just sleep right now and never talk about this again”

“Deal” you laughed, rolling over to lay on his chest.

#chris evans #chris evans imagine #chris evans x reader #ransom drysdale #ransom drysdale imagine #chris evans fluff #chris evans blurb

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the-chicken-or-the-banana · 3 years

Note

Hi! There's a headcannon that has been circulating that I never saw fully written, and I love how you characterize the foxes! Basically, Andrew living the setbacks of being short (either privately or publicly), getting frustrated, and Neil comforting him

THIS IS SO FUNNY SKDJFHK also i have always wanted to write a 5+1 so tyvm for this (again, this ended up so goddamn long but. what else is new.)

read "shortcomings (honestly, fuck you tilda)" on ao3 hereeeee

———

Andrew gripped the edges of the counter. Deep breath in. Deep breath out. Eye on the prize.

He squinted at the offensively orange mixing bowl that Kevin had placed far too high on the shelf earlier that day. He had planned on baking cookies (for no reason other than that he was bored), and that bowl was his lucky one: every baked good he made using it always rose perfectly.

Andrew had tried everything — stretching as far as he could, trying to move things with his mind, even going as far as going on his toes (after a cursory glance that no one was around).

He eyed the step-stool on the other side of the kitchen. He could always use that and put it back and no one would be the wiser. But no. Andrew was a fully capable adult with a reputation to uphold and he would get that bowl down by himself, dammit.

Andrew had been through hell and back, and then some. He would not be bested by cabinetry.

He rubbed his hands against his shirt before placing them back on the counter and took a running crouch. Andrew bounced lightly on his toes, mentally counted to three, and leapt up, hand reaching forward to grip at the bowl.

For one glorious moment, it really seemed like it would work.

Then the counter whacked Andrew in the gut, he smacked his head against the cabinet, and he slowly slid down to the floor, no bowl in hand.

Hmm. That wasn't supposed to happen.

He jerked his head up to glare at the stupid bowl and promptly felt extremely dizzy, slipping even further until he was collapsed entirely on the floor, limbs splayed.

That wasn't supposed to happen either.

Oh well. If he couldn't ruin his health with cookies, he might as well do it by laying on the most unhygienic piece of property he had ever seen. He supposed this was an acceptable way to go.

Andrew lay there on the dorm floor for a solid 15 minutes, willing the bowl to come down, until he heard the dorm room unlock and the sound of Neil's quiet humming filled the room. He didn't have the energy to get up though, so he flopped his legs around as Neil passed the kitchen to catch his attention.

"Oh, hey Drew," Neil shuffled further into the dorm after giving Andrew a quick glance and smile. A few seconds later, the humming stopped and Andrew saw the outline of Neil's body slowly move back into the kitchen doorway. "Um. Can I ask why you're starfished on the floor?"

Andrew sluggishly pointed upwards. "Bowl. High. Jumped. Fell."

Neil nodded knowingly. Andrew stared at him purposefully. Neil blinked.

Idiot.

"Get it for me," Andrew scowled with a well-aimed kick at Neil's ankles. Neil's eyes widened before filling with mirth. He walked forward and sat down next to Andrew's side, running a hand through his blond hair. Andrew hated himself for leaning into the touch.

"Aww, what's wrong?" Neil cooed. "Can't reach it?"

What a fucking asshole.

Andrew shot Neil a glare — he could admit that it probably wasn't super effective considering that he was on the floor with his not-boyfriend carding his fingers through his hair, but it was the thought that counted, okay! — and Neil gave him an amused look before pushing himself off the ground.

He shuffled around Andrew's limp body before giving an exasperated sigh.

"Andrew."

"Junkie."

"There is a stepstool right here."

"Yes."

"You didn't use it."

"No."

"... Why?"

Andrew shrugged in response.

He heard Neil grumbling under his breath and, a few seconds later, was rewarded with Neil's gross socks in front of his face as he went on the tips of his toes to grab at the bowl. Andrew glanced up and noticed that Neil's shorts were delightfully loose around his thighs.

Nice.

He indulged himself in the view until Neil dropped back down on the balls of his feet, holding the bowl proudly.

"Got it!" he grinned down at Andrew and flopped back down on the floor, pulling Andrew into a sitting position. Neil pressed up against him after a quick 'yes or no?' and handed over the bowl so Andrew.

"That was not fair," Andrew grumbled after a few minutes of calm silence. "You did that so easily. You're barely taller than me."

Neil nudged his shoulder and planted a kiss to the side of his head. "It's okay," he gave an annoyingly soft look. "I'll always be there to help you, whenever you need it."

Andrew huffed. "I did not ask for sentimentality, Josten. Just a bowl."

Irritatingly, this caused Neil to laugh a bit. "Okay, okay, I'll leave you with your precious bowl." He moved to get up and pressed a chaste kiss to Andrew's lips. "But for what it's worth, I think your size is perfect."

He left Andrew missing the warmth of Neil's body beside him before his brain caught up to what Neil just said.

"Josten. Josten! Was that a fucking dick joke?"

There were moments where Andrew desperately wanted to burn Neil's clothing. He understood that they were remnants of past habits that were hard to break, but surely having this many gray and brown shirts had to be criminal.

Andrew refused to be seen kissing such a heathen in public but he really only knew how to put Neil in hot club clothes rather than hot casual clothes. And so, for the sake of humanity (and his dignity), he swallowed his pride and met up with Allison Fucking Reynolds.

Their plan to snatch up Neil from the Exy court to take him shopping at the mall appeared to be going well. So far, they'd bought him some shirts, artfully ripped jeans, denim jackets, and an actually functional pair of shoes. Neil, for all his stamina, looked like he was about to collapse from the weight of the bags, so Allison and Andrew took pity on him and decided to take a lunch break.

The three of them reached the food court and made their way to a noodle shop (after Andrew extracted a promise that he could get some ice cream afterwards). He and Allison sat Neil down on a bench to guard their massive pile of bags before going up to order.

By the time they were at the front of the line, Andrew was fully prepared to stab Reynolds in the middle of the mall. In a span of five minutes, she had managed to ask him about his and Neil's sex life, when they got together, what Neil's exact sexuality was, and had Andrew ever painted his nails?

He resolutely refused to answer any of those questions, on the principle that she didn't need more money from bets than she already had.

They ordered quickly, Andrew eager to get away from Reynolds, when the cashier said something that made him stop in his tracks.

"We actually have a discount right now for kids under 12!" she said smiling. "Is that something you'd be interested in?"

Andrew squinted. Why the hell would they—

Oh. Oh no, no, no.

Allison seemed to come to the same realization that he did, because she smiled wide and tapped her nails against the counter.

"Oh, that's just perfect!" she exclaimed. "Aaron here just turned 11 a few months ago. We'll take the discount."

Aaron?!

Andrew was going to kill her.

He was still planning bloody murder as Reynolds brought their tray of food to the table. He sat down with a scowl, and though Neil shot him a curious glance, he didn't push it.

Stupid considerate junkie.

Andrew muttered a percentage under his breath and proceeded to poke Neil in the cheek with his chopsticks. After a few moments of this, Neil turned to him with a scowl.

"Andrew," he grumbled. "What are you doing?"

Andrew glared at Reynolds.

Neil gave a resigned sigh and turned to her. "Allison. What happened?"

Reynolds smirked. "Oh, nothing much. Just that the cashier thought that your boy was a literal child and gave us a discount for kids 12 and under. I told her that it was great because Aaron over there," she jabbed a finger towards Andrew. "just turned 11."

Neil looked like he was biting back a laugh but then frowned. "Okay, but arms."

"True," Reynolds conceded. "However, consider this: tiny."

The two idiots nodded like they'd figured out some indispensable secret of the universe.

Frustrated, Andrew went back to poking Neil's face; when he finally glanced back, Andrew nudged his arms and shuffled a bit closer. Thankfully, Neil actually got the hint for once and scraped featherlight fingers into Andrew's hair.

"It's okay," Neil tried. "I mean, at the end of the day, all of us are just broke college kids—"

"I'm not," Allison interrupted.

Neil rolled his stupid, pretty eyes. "Okay, most of us are broke college kids—"

"Don't you have a bunch of mafia blood money and stuff?" Reynolds asked.

"Beside the point," Neil huffed. "Fine, Andrew, you are a broke college kid—" "Gee, thanks." "— and so you should be grateful that your height is saving you some money."

"That is dumb."

"You're dumb."

"How creative."

Neil scowled and tugged on Andrew's hair. "Shut up. Drama queen."

Andrew stabbed a piece of stir fry into Neil's mouth to close that damn mouth and resolutely ignored the click of Allison's phone camera.

This was proving to be a problem.

Andrew stared at his $150 jeans, the bottom of the legs frayed and pale. He had just bought these two weeks ago. What a waste of money.

There really was only one thing left to do.

Minutes later, Andrew slammed open the door to his brother's dorm and dragged him out with Aaron demanding to know where they were going. By the time he had wrestled his idiot doppelganger to the car, Andrew was reaching. his. fucking. limit.

"Andrew, if you don't tell me where we're going, I swear I'll bite you. I'll push Neil off a treadmill and dump a bucket of mud on him. I'll throw all your ice cream in the trash. I'll—"

That last one was simply too far. He'd have to give Aaron some ground.

"Get in, loser," Andrew glared. "We're going shopping."

Thankfully, he managed to keep Aaron quiet until they reached the mall by letting him pick the music (it was country! Southern heathen). What a child.

Rich coming from you, a voice told him snidely. You can't even buy clothes for yourself properly.

Shut up, he scolded himself.

"Andrew," Aaron sighed exasperatedly when they reached the parking lot. "Can you finally tell me what we're shopping for?"

They got out of the car and Andrew raised an eyebrow as he faced Aaron. "Sex toys."

"WHAT THE FU— "

Andrew watched his brother's face turn red as he sputtered, before noticing the amusement in his face.

Aaron deflated. "Asshole," he grumped.

"Yeah, that is generally where the dildo goes."

"Shut up. I'm begging you."

Andrew decided to take pity on him and stabbed a finger towards Aaron's legs. "When did you buy those."

Aaron squinted. "My jeans?" At Andrew's nod, he looked confused. "Uh, like three or four months ago maybe. Why?"

Three or four months?! That was simply unacceptable.

"They are still in good quality," Andrew said slowly.

"...Yes?" Aaron looked lost for a few moments before his face brightened with pure, evil glee. Andrew hated the world more in that moment than he ever had before. "Oh my God. Oh my God. Are your jeans too long for you?"

"Be quiet," he snapped. "You just need to show me where you buy yours and never mention this to anyone or I'll stab you."

Aaron didn't seem as concerned as he should have been. "I don't need to do anything, dumbass. Why don't you just cuff them like me?"

"I refuse to look like a bisexual disaster."

"Hey," Aaron looked mildly offended. "That's not a bisexual thing. Right?" At Andrew's blank look, his eyes widened. "No. Oh shit. Is that why guys keep hitting on me at Eden's?"

Andrew actually blinked at that. He had not realized that his brother was really that stupid. "Aaron. Eden's is a gay bar. Obviously men will hit on you."

"Wait, it's a what— "

"Be quiet. You are coming with me now." He dragged his brother to the mall entrance as Aaron bumbled along behind him, swearing incoherently.

They weaved their way through what seemed like a million stores until Andrew walked out hours later, finally satisfied with his new haul of jeans that Aaron had oh-so-considerately helped to pick out, a few hundred dollars poorer, and two churros and an iced coffee fuller.

Andrew trudged up the stairs to his floor (perhaps this was a workout he should regularly implement in his exercise regime) while Aaron split off to find some study group or other.

By the time he reached his dorm, Andrew felt far more exhausted than the situation warranted and he blindly chucked the bags on the sofa, belatedly realizing that Neil was already sitting where the bags would land. Oops.

He sat down by Neil like the throw was entirely intentional as Neil sputtered when the plastic smacked him in the face.

"What's all this?" the junkie questioned. For fuck's sake, why did his eyes have to be so blue?

Andrew just gestured for him to take the clothes out and saw as Neil's face grew confused when he saw what he was holding.

"Jeans? Didn't you literally buy some like a week ago?"

"Two," Andrew corrected, because he was a petty bitch if nothing else. Neil rolled his stupid eyes at that but waited for Andrew to provide an explanation. Andrew heaved a regretful sigh. "The bottom of them are all frayed now"

"Frayed?" the striker's brows furrowed before his face cleared and a shit-eating smirk crossed his face. "Wait, wait, wait. Are you saying you were too short for your jeans?"

Andrew nearly stabbed him right then and there.

"Shut. Up."

"Oh my gosh. Andrew. Andrew."

When Andrew got up (not grumpily. never grumpily. (okay, maybe a little grumpily)), Neil tugged on his shirt sleeve with an apologetic grin. "Sorry, sorry, I'll stop making fun," but his eyes were squinted as he tried not to laugh and his face was flushed and his lips were red as he bit on them, and honestly, how was Andrew expected to stay annoyed after seeing that?

"I mean," Neil continued. "You're paying with whatever you have left of Tilda's life insurance, right? And it's technically her fault you're so, uh... vertically challenged because of the drugs and shit. So you buying all these jeans are like a big "fuck you" to her!"

Andrew blinked slowly at his not-boyfriend's not-cute not-endearing hand-waving and decided he could take a hit to his reputation if it kept Neil glowing like this. "Josten. Are you saying that being short is literally in my jeans?"

"Holy shit, yes."

To be fair, he had been warned. This was probably his own fault. Which he would never admit, but whatever.

It had started fine enough.

Andrew had been smoking by the windowsill as he waited for Neil to come back from his class. It was raining heavily and he felt a comfortable laze settle in his bones, so he didn't bother to open the window, despite Kevin's complaints.

"Andrew, stop smoking in here. If you want to destroy your lungs, at least do it away from me."

"Shut up and watch your damn Exy, Day."

He shut up and watched his damn Exy.

Andrew let the sounds of the game wash over him as he let his eyes droop (when did Exy become... relaxing to him? That was moderately concerning), so by the time he realized that there was an incessant beeping sound in the background, everything was too far gone to not have gone to shit.

His body finally jolted into action when he finally registered that the smoke alarm was blaring in their dorm and he heard yells coming from outside in the hallway, which probably meant an RA or some other Foxes were about to burst in and see him smoking where he wasn't supposed to. For the third time this month.

Crap.

"Day. Day! Get off your fucking computer and turn off the alarm," he hissed as he (gracefully) scrambled to the kitchen to find a towel.

"Hmm?" Kevin hummed blearily. "Oh. That. Well, I told you so."

Andrew simply could not believe it. (Well, maybe he could a bit. Kevin was just that kind of asshole frie— person.)

By the time he dampened a towel (wow, they really needed to do the dishes sometime soon), the shouts were right outside the door and he heard keys jingling in the lock. Quickly he scrambled up the table, but in his haste, kicked over a glass of water (vodka? Sprite? whatever).

He tripped over slightly and his foot splashed into the puddle on the table, causing him to cringe internally. His sock felt horribly wet and tingly, and it was nearly enough to distract him from the creaking of the door opening. Quickly, he reached up, flapping the towel near the smoke alarm to turn it off.

It wasn't enough. He couldn't reach the alarm.

In a split-second, he decided to just fuck it and leapt up to see if that would work. However, the uncomfortable feeling in his feet and the stupid smoke alarm and the fucking banging of the door made him severely misjudge his strength.

Andrew jumped a lot further forward than he expected. He flew through the air, one foot catching on the top of a chair, the other stabbed by the edge of the table. In a futile attempt to gain his balance, Andrew flailed his arms around, but that just caused the towel to smack him in the face.

Eventually, gravity took hold of him and he (and the chair) crashed into the floor, the towel mockingly flopping on his hair. Blearily, he raised his head up and saw Neil and their RA staring at him concernedly from the doorway.

Well, this was awkward. At least the beeping had stopped.

Their RA, an unfortunately attractive tennis player named Richard Addams (Nicky found it hilarious that their RA's initials were R.A.. Andrew called him 'Certified Dick™'), stepped in cautiously. "Andrew, everything okay?"

"Just peachy," he grumbled.

Neil ran to Andrew's side at the sound of his voice and pushed his blond hair out of his face. "Why peaches? They're honestly not even that good; I can only stand the really big and thick and juicy ones."

Andrew froze and even Kevin closed his laptop that. "Neil," Certified Dick™ said slowly. "Do you know what peaches are?"

"Duh," he rolled his eyes. "Fruit. That's why Nicky has a peach next to my name in his contacts. Because I like fruits."

Idiot.

"It means 'ass,' " Andrew informed him. Neil gaped.

"It means wha— "

"Okay," Certified Dick™ exclaimed cheerfully. "I'm gonna leave y'all here. Andrew, I'll assume you weren't doing anything against the rules because you are a kind person who always listens to what I say."

"Of course," Andrew said blandly. "I am a wonderful student." He fingered the edges of his armbands.

Certified Dick™ slowly backed out of the room.

Neil let out a breath and blew his hair out of his eyes. "Okay," he started. "We'll talk about the ass thing later. But first, what the hell just happened?"

Andrew pointed up at the smoke alarm.

"Well, yes, I got that, but why were you jumping around like an absolute idiot?"

"Kevin is useless," Andrew announced.

"Not true!" Kevin protested immediately. "You just never listen to me. It's not my fault that I'm always right."

Andrew glared at him and turned back to Neil. "I couldn't reach the stupid smoke alarm," he finally gritted out, bracing for someone to mock him.

It never came.

Instead, Neil gave him a cheeky grin and a wink (at least, Andrew assumed it was a wink) and turned to Kevin with a faux-annoyed stare. "Seriously, Kev? You didn't help him?"

"He got himself into his own mess," Kevin shrugged.

"Okay, and what if someone had caught him? They might have not allowed him to play Exy for a bit! Or maybe while he was trying to shut off the alarm, he could have really hurt himself!" Neil was really laying it heavy on the dramatics, brandishing his arms wildly.

Kevin's eyes widened in horror at his words. "Shit."

"Yeah," Neil nodded graveley. "Us Exy players have got to look out for each other. How else will we live to our potentials?"

Kevin looked like he was going to be sick. Quickly, he whipped open his laptop and began muttering questions on how to secretly disable smoke alarms.

"Junkie," Andrew muttered to Neil. Neil just hummed and pressed a kiss to the crook of his neck.

"Yeah," he whispered a few moments later. "Only for you."

Hmm. This was nice.

Andrew never could have imagined he would be the kind of guy to stumble over furniture while kissing his way through a room, and yet, here he was, crashing into tables and upturning chairs and tripping over bags.

He had Neil's fingers intertwined with his and was dragging him through the dorm, the kisses constantly pausing because Neil kept breaking off into small smiles and laughing into his neck. Every few steps, Andrew would take a look at his flushed junkie and absolutely forget about his plan to reach the bedroom, choosing instead to kiss him ferociously right there.

They were lucky that no one else was in the dorm.

When Andrew realized that it had taken them a solid seven minutes to walk about 15 feet past the door, he realized they would probably never reach an actual bed at the rate they were going. He told Neil as much and was rewarded with a shrug.

"I literally don't care where we end up," Neil said breathlessly before pulling him into another heated kiss. "I just wanna kiss you."

Andrew nearly snorted at that. How predictable. "I got that" he muttered. "But what do you want?"

Neil raised an eyebrow and deepened his voice mockingly. "I want nothing."

"You are actually so insufferable."

"Yeah, yeah," Neil waved him off and latched his mouth on Andrew's neck. Fuck. "Hmm," he said a few moments later. "Carry me?"

Andrew resisted the urge to roll his eyes. Ever since the junkie had seen how much he lifted at the gym a few weeks ago, this had become one of his favorite requests (and really, who was Andrew to deny him?).

Nevertheless, he leaned down and grabbed both of Neil's thighs, pushing him up until his legs were secured around Andrew's waist and Andrew could comfortably hold him up, his body flush against Andrew's.

Yeah, he got why Neil liked this so much.

He wasn't sure how long he'd be able to hold Neil up for though, considering that they actually had a game tomorrow and he didn't want to put up with Kevin's annoying complaints if he didn't try at least a bit. Andrew glanced around for a second before his eyes caught on the perfect place.

He adjusted his grip on Neil, causing him to let out an oof in surprise and carefully made his way to the kitchen (with only a slight amount of kissing in the middle). Andrew messily deposited Neil on the island counter and was promptly faced with another problem.

Neil was up there. Andrew was down here. How the hell were they supposed to make out now?

Andrew frowned slightly and tugged at Neil's collar. "Lean down," he commanded.

Neil complied and pressed a searing kiss to his lips, tugging at Andrew's hair, but too soon he pulled back.

At Andrew's 'yes or no?' Neil smiled down sheepishly. "It's a yes, but this angle's going to end up destroying my back."

That made no sense — whenever Andrew sat on the counter, he never had to lean down that much. He reasoned that the weight of being an Exy junkie was finally catching up to Neil's spine, though.

"Well," Andrew huffed. "I'm not going up on my toes."

"Why would you need to go on your toes?" Neil looked genuinely confused as Andrew frustratedly gestured at the air between them. "Wait, wait. Can you not reach me if I'm sitting up here?"

Andrew's thoughts came to a halt.

He pulled back (well, as much as he could while still staying in Neil's arms) and squinted suspiciously at his not-boyfriend. "Can you normally reach me when I sit up?"

"Well, yeah," Neil blinked. "I mean, I have to stretch a little bit but it's usually fine."

What.

Unceremoniously, Andrew yanked Neil off the counter and sat himself up (he pretended not to notice the stare that Neil gave when he flexed his arms). He hooked his ankles around Neil and dragged him closer, coming nearly forehead-to-forehead.

Forehead-to-forehead. Neil could reach him.

Andrew let out an uncharacteristic groan and dropped his head on Neil's surprisingly comfy shoulder. Neil snorted quietly and patted his head.

"It's okay, Drew," he said, his voice muffled but teasing as he pressed a kiss to the top of Andrew's head. "Maybe next time we can get you a stool or something. That'll be real attractive."

Andrew scowled and kicked him in the leg.

Neil's voice softened as he lowered his arms to rub soft circles on his back. "But I'm serious Andrew, it's okay." He pressed a soft kiss to Andrew's collarbone, the underside of his jaw, the corner of his lips. "Does this feel good?"

Andrew swallowed. Hiding from Neil was a fight he knew he'd lose, and there was no point prolonging the inevitable. "Yes."

"Then that's all I need. Making you feel good makes me feel good," he whispered. "I really like this, what we do right now. And if you want, we can still find more positions that feel really good. Don't stress, we have time."

"Hmm," Andrew said a few moments later. "That is all fine and well, but actually, we now only have about 20 minutes until Kevin comes back from class, and I would highly appreciate it if you could get me off sometime soon."

"Asshole. We were totally having a moment."

"Next to a bowl of apples."

"Rude. I bet those apples appreciated the conversation."

Andrew rolled his eyes at Neil's idiocy, but kissed him hard to convey everything he felt: you care, you listen, you are okay with me, you are safe for me. Neil seemed to get the message, because his body softened under Andrew's grip as he kissed him back eagerly.

When they finally pulled apart, Andrew felt heavy and sated and secure in the way he only associated with Neil. He looked into Neil's blown-out pupils, the blue peeking brightly at the edges of his eyes as he slowly brought Neil's hand to the waistband of his jeans.

"Right," Andrew tried for a nonchalant tone. The slight voice-crack may have betrayed him, but whatever. "Take off my pants now?"

South Carolina winters were shit.

Growing up in Oakland meant that he was pretty used to cold winters and hot summers, but usually things only got unbearably chilly at night, when he could pile tons of blankets on himself. Unfortunately, winters in the South brought biting wind and snow. All day long.

Andrew hated the cold (sure, he could walk around with a blanket draped over him like a cape in his dorm (he did. occasionally), but alas, he actually had a reputation to uphold)

And yet, when Nicky and Dan enthusiastically told Neil about their stupid plan and Neil had sent a stupid questioning gaze to Andrew's stupid face, he sure as fuck couldn't use "the cold" as an excuse to deny those eyes.

So he bundled up into a turtleneck, a sweater, a thin jacket and a snow one, a beanie, a pair of gloves, leggings and then sweatpants, and his warmest socks (Andrew decidedly ignored Neil's snickers, who was annoying dressed in just a long-sleeved shirt and jeans. how rude.)

The so-called Monsters trampled down to the parking lot outside the Tower, boots sinking deep into the snow. Andrew shivered at the sudden wind and if he walked a little closer to Neil's hot warm body — well, no one needed to know.

Within seconds of their arrival, Andrew was regretting coming out.

A massive snowball soared through the air and slammed into Aaron's face, who promptly fell on his ass from the force of it.

"What the fuck?" he sputtered, wiping snow out of his eyes.

"HA!" Reynolds hollered. "Take that!"

"Oh dear," Neil muttered. "I didn't expect this much violence from the start."

"We are Foxes," Andrew scoffed. "Violence is the whole point."

"Actually, there's this one piece of shit in my Stats class and he tried to tell me I was wrong — I wasn't, by the way — and instead of punching him, I just very mathematically proved how incompetent he was and I told him that his parents' miscalculation when it came to conceiving him evidently got passed on to him in the form of his nonexistent math skills. So. No violence."

Andrew wasn't sure if he should kiss Neil or smack him. "Right. Because verbal annihilation is a very tame response."

"Since when have you been such a peacemaker?"

"Renee."

"You two literally beat the shit out of each other every week."

Andrew shrugged. "Semantics."

"I really don't think— "

Their conversation was rudely interrupted by Matt throwing a snowball mere inches away from Andrew's face. At his glare, Matt promptly ran behind a car.

"Neil," Andrew sighed. "I hate you."

"I didn't force you to be here," Neil pointed out. "Could've said no. What did Nicky call you? 'Whipped.' So ha." With that profound statement, Neil ducked and dumped a handful of snow down the back of Andrew's shirt.

"Ha," Andrew said back smugly. "Layers." Neil looked betrayed.

"Layers. I forgot."

"I didn't."

"Asshole."

"Yup."

Neil scowled and kicked at Andrew's highly sturdy snow boots petulantly. Andrew refrained from rolling his eyes turned towards him. "Yes or no?"

"Oh," Neil perked up. Junkie. "Yes, yes."

Andrew jabbed him in the stomach and when Neil keeled over groaning, he pressed a kiss to his lips and shoved his head under Neil's chin.

"Personal heater," Andrew explained. Then he grabbed Neil's arms and tucked them around his waist. This was good.

"Right," Neil snorted. "Naturally. I can't wait until someone throws a snowball at your face and you get all cold and wet."

Andrew scowled. How rude.

"Oi, Minyard!" Dan called and Andrew sighed before wiggling around until he was facing her, back flush against Neil's front. "This is for drawing mustaches all over the pictures in the Court!"

Andrew raised an eyebrow. "You have no proof— "

His protests were cut off with the sight of a snowball hurtling full speed at him. He made to jump out of the way (maybe Exy was good for something after all), but Neil's arms around him proved to be a real hindrance.

As it was, he got jerked back into place, the snowball inches in front of him. Andrew shut his eyes, hoping he could use this as an excuse to drag Neil into the dorm to warm up, when he heard an "oof" from behind him.

Andrew twisted around to find Neil's face covered in an explosion of snow, water dripping down his shocked expression.

His eyelashes were nice. Hmm.

"Wh- What?" he shivered. "How is there snow on my face? Wasn't it supposed to land on you?"

Oh.

Andrew brushed off some snow that had settled on his cheekbones before stepping back a bit (still in Neil's arms. that was necessary). And Neil was right, it was odd, the snowball was supposed to hit him and instead, it had smashed itself on Neil.

"I believe," Andrew said slowly. "My height has proved to be advantageous."

"Advan— you mean you were so short the snowball literally missed you and hit me?!"

"Yup," Andrew felt extremely self-satisfied. "See, had you been shorter, this wouldn't have happened. Alas, there's just more of you to hit when you're tall."

"That— I— Andrew!"

"That's my name."

"Ugh. I am cold and wet and very much not liking this," Neil grumbled.

"Bet you wish you had as many jackets as me, huh?" Andrew crowed.

"You could always give one of them to me," Neil said as he yanked Andrew back against him.

"I could. Not feeling it, though."

"Bastard."

"Just a little," Andrew agreed. He tilted his head up to look at Neil and oh, that angle was good, his lips were right there, how did Andrew never notice that Neil's eyelashes framed his eyes so nicely?

Hmm. If this was the view, maybe his height had some... unforeseen perks that extended beyond snowball fighting.

"I win," Andrew told Neil seriously. At his confused expression, Andrew was forced to sigh out an explanation. "You are very pretty from down here."

"Oh?"

"Shut up."

"I think you're pretty too."

"198%."

"Kiss me?"

"Ugh, if you insist."

Andrew leaned up to press his lips to Neil, dutifully ignoring the cheers from behind him, as Neil placed a hand under his chin to tilt him up further, which felt very nice.

Yeah, Andrew was living the good life. He had a maybe-boyfriend who was the perfect height and a brother and cousin who might actually stay, and he was content and safe and— really fucking cold because there was a ball of snow sliding down his neck what the fuck what the fuck what the fu— .

"NICKY."

"Shit. Sorry!"

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