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callmelola111 · 10 months

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color me purple ♡ part three

✄ - - - - part 1 , part 2 , part 3 - - - - soundtrack - - - - ♡

synopsis: it’s summer and you’re back at camp stillwater. as a counselor you mean serious business and you’ll do whatever it takes for your cabin to come out on top. the only thing in the way of that; ellie williams and her crazy antics.

| 𓆣 | pairing & wc: ellie williams x reader. wc: 3.4k

| ❀ | cw (by part): 18+ themes (MDNI), modern au, fem reader, some angst, ellie and reader fight, sweet love confession, !!SMUT WARNING!! (minors plz steer clear of this fic + dni), swearing, dom!ellie, sub!reader, whipped cream play, slightly public??, fingering (e receiving), oral (r receiving), scissoring (e + r), pet names (princess, sweet girl, baby, etc.), praise, edging kinda, some aftercare (lmk if i missed anything!!)

a/n: hello lovelies!!! i apologize for taking a whole ass week to get out this last part, i was on vacation and not feeling very inspired. finally though, i present a nasty, sweet ending that i hope you all love. so fun to write and read back, like why am i all hot and bothered rn lol. like always, thank you for the support!! ♡~ lola

That night Ellie replayed your words over and over in her head trying to dissect their meaning. Had her player-esque persona finally caught up to her? If so, why did it matter to you?

Through some deep speculation, she began connecting the dots. There seemed to be a real possibility that you liked Ellie as more than a friend, just as she did you. There was no way to be sure though, not unless she asked. But, the task seemed daunting considering it felt as if she had already ruined what she didn’t know was there.

The image of your tear stained face was seared into Ellie’s mind and proved as motivation to confess, apologize, explain. As long as you’d listen she’d repair the damage done to your heart. A tinge of regret hit Ellie as she thought about the meaningless hookups of summer's past. It was her way of dealing with unrequited love. But of course, now that that love doesn’t seem so unrequited, her mistakes have come back to taint it.

♡

The following morning kicked off bright and early. 8:00am to be exact. The sky was pure blue with no fluffs of white to shade from the fury that was the sun. In virtue of the rising temperatures the expansive lake beckoned masses of campers into its waters. Just in time for the kayak relay race about to take place.

Each team lined up in number order spanning across the weathered wood of the dock. At the very end stood teams 11 and 12, you and Ellie heading your rows of campers. With the sting of yesterday's interactions you continued giving Ellie the cold shoulder.

It took everything inside to void your gaze from her, trying to focus on the games, while Ellie lacked the self control to look at anything but you. She studied your glowy skin and the way your sweat gathered at the nape of your neck from the sweltering heat. She took note of the stray hairs that clung to the moisture you produced and the way your brows remained furrowed as you fought every instinct urging you towards her. It felt like absolute torture and although neither of you said a word, there was a mutual understanding of the shared pain. However, before the tension could beat down on you any longer a loud whistle blew, signaling the start of the race.

Each counselor kicked off the relay heading straight for the finish. You slipped into your kayak, gripping onto the red double-bladed paddle that propelled you forward. Ellie’s boat was in line with yours sending aggressive ripples in between the two hunks of floating plastic. The course stretched over 500 meters and as you reached the 400 meter mark you were still neck and neck with Ellie, fighting for first place.

This is usually how it went but something about today was different, something in Ellie’s eye’s hinted towards a more complicated journey towards triumph. She suddenly jerked her boat to the right, straight towards yours. The pointed tip of her kayak rammed into the side of yours rocking it side to side and throwing you off course. Knowing her abilities, you recognized this as a pursuit at instigation.

“HEY FUCK OFF!” you shouted with anger before swerving your boat to the left, hitting hers in retaliation. Ellie continued to push back.

“Oh so now you’ll speak to me?!”

“Are you serious right now? Stop fucking with me Ellie!” You attempted to continue forward, but as multiple racers passed you and Ellie blocked your path, it felt like no use.

“You can’t be mad at me forever!” her voice was desperate rather than angry and this left you baffled at her exact motives.

“Oh yeah? TRY ME!” Ellie took your words as an invitation and used her paddle to scoop at the murky water sending it your way. You screamed in irritation as it hit you right in the face, soaking your once dry body.

Before you knew it, you were rising from your seated position to catapult even more water back at her. Ellie then stood up right with you, continuing the petty fight and reaching across the edge of her floating device to grab ahold of your paddle. At this point the both of you were blinded with vexation playing tug of war with the rod of plastic. Your boat rocked back and forth, more and more violently each time as you began to lose balance. With one last wave of water and the pull of Ellie you both tumbled into the lake in a mess of arms, legs, and curses.

You quickly shot up with the help of your life jacket, now drenched. Screams and laughters erupted along with the violent blowing of Mrs. Campbell’s whistle to halt the race and deal with the trouble you and Ellie caused. The both of you had been sentenced to kitchen duty and expected to sort out whatever drama had ensued. With the weight of your decisions, you were then banished from the lake and sent off to prepare lunch in place of the usual cooks.

♡

The double doors of the mess hall swung open with attitude as you and Ellie waltzed in. The air was shockingly cool compared to the barren heat just outside. Your wet hair became a nuisance as its once cooling effect now left you cold and miserable in the air conditioning.

Ellie led the way into the sterile looking kitchen and you followed in silence. Little words had been said between the two of you since your rage filled water fight. Although now, all rage had dissipated, leaving only feelings of shame and heartache in the air you shared. The silence grew heavy and the things left unsaid began bubbling up.

You reached for a ratty gray apron hanging on the dull walls trying to focus on the assigned task of cooking lunch. Staring at the chipped paint, you fumbled at the strings behind your back trying to tie them but to no avail.

“Uh- do you want some help?” Despite Ellie being the only one in the room, her voice startled you. She inched closer waiting for your permission to assist and you obliged. Ellie’s hands reached to the contour of your waist, gripping the fabric. The brush of her knuckles across the small of your back sent a parade of chills to your skin. Her touch was slow and agonizing. Part of you wondered if she’d purposely made such prolonged contact as she tied the strings into a sloppy bow.

Although Ellie’s duty was done, you both remained still, you facing the wall and her facing your back. She reached once more to your familiar waistline and quickly flipped you around towards her.

“There… all done.” she murmured. In that moment with just inches between each other, eyes locked, you finally felt sure of her feelings, and your feelings, and the fact that you couldn’t keep pretending to hate her. The universe would stop at nothing to bring the two of you together and it was time to surrender. Ellie’s emerald orbs were full of you and only you and she knew she had to say something. If not now, when?

“I’m so fucking sorry. For everything. Please– forgive me.” You collapsed into her body like a house of cards. These were the words you needed to hear. Voice cracking, you called out her name in desperation.

“Ellie-” She urgently completed the other half of the embrace. Your face nestled perfectly into the crick of her neck like it was fate. Pine soap and earthy lake water wafted through your senses as you took in a deep inhale of relief. The following breaths were rocky and unsteady as all your pinned up emotions rose to the surface. Still stuck in Ellie’s crevice you began a gentle cry.

“Hey- hey- look at me. Don’t cry bunny.” She pulled your damp face in the cradle of her hands and guided you into contact with her glassy, green eyes.

“Els, you- you have no idea what you do to me.” you struggled through the vulnerable sentence. Ellie pulled you back into the warmth of her body squeezing you even tighter like she was worried you might float away. Your words sat in the air waiting to be tended to until finally Ellie acted.

“I think I might.” Her answer was like a warm blanket around your heart. You looked up from your sanctuary in her frame and she stared back. You played a cat and mouse game of glances from eyes to lips and pressure rose.

Ellie took a deep inhale and asked the anticipated question, “can I kiss you?” With no time for words you dove into her soft mouth. Your top lip slotted perfectly in between hers, sealing the gap of yearning that had amassed from years of rivalry.

The peck was hard and long. It’s tenderness evoked cries of queer happiness from the both of you. Your tears mixed with hers was an act of love, and a long-awaited one at that. Ellie’s lips began to wander down to your neck and then your collarbones evoking sweet giggles from your throat.

“Ellie- Ellie- enough. We do have to cook, you know.” A disappointing realization but true nonetheless.

“Fine, fine.” Ellie’s kisses halted but you could still feel each one radiating off your skin. Your smile didn’t falter once as you and Ellie whipped up lunch for the campers. Who would’ve thought punishment could be this fun?

♡

After the 12 cabins passed in and out of the mess hall, consuming the meal, you and Ellie followed behind to clean up. After the kitchen was tidied, you both ventured into the dining area to wipe off the tables scattered throughout.

You dipped your sudsy rag into the bucket of cleaning solution and swirled it across the laminated wood. The table was long and wide forcing you to bend over the edge to extend your arm towards the hard to reach parts. Your ass up in the air was like a bright flag waving for Ellie to come over and assist, but not with the cleaning. She snaked both arms around your waist connecting them at your tummy. Her groin then pressed at your hips with reverence. She admired your shape and the way you somehow always slotted perfectly into her.

“Ellieeee…” You drug out her name nice and long, disguising your pleasure with annoyance. She began planting more kisses in the same pattern as before.

“What? Do you want me to stop?” You sat up now parallel with her body, ass still against crotch. Breathy air escaped from your mouth as Ellie gently nibbled at your ear, sending your head into a spin. You gulped out a string of “nos”, adamant about how much you needed her. And how you needed her now.

Your expression of desperation triggered Ellie’s strong hands into action. The 5 digits dragged up the right side of your ribs causing the soft red fabric of your shirt to bunch up, her firm motions stopping at the underside of one of your breasts. Ellie kneaded hungrily at the mound of fat, reveling in your braless form and hardening nipples.

“C’mere, turn towards me. I wanna see your pretty face.” Her request flowed from her blushed lips like a symphony and you quickly obeyed. The table dug into your back leaving a mark as Ellie towered over you in desire like an animal. You tugged at the hem of her blue T-shirt sliding your hand under the linen. You were just as needy. Her abs flexed with the exploration of your eager hands. Wanting more, she leaned in close to deliver the message.

Her hot breath tickled you ear as she whispered, “you wanna make purple?” No matter how hot and bothered the both of you were, Ellie still found time to insert in her stupid humor. The cheesy sexual innuendo made you snicker but only for a moment before you were pulled back into her world of desire.

You nodded fervently to urge the escalation of this interaction, so she scooped you up by your pillow soft thighs and whisked you away to the kitchen. The stainless steel countertop where Ellie had positioned you was cold and left the back of your legs moderately numb. Overflowing with lust, you went for Ellie’s lips but she quickly pulled away before you could reach them.

“Ah, ah, ah.” she tsk’s before dashing away to the large industrial fridge, sending the double doors flying open with her pull.

“Els? What are you doing?” you questioned, feeling the ache between your legs amp up. You weren’t sure how much longer you could wait for her touch.

“I’m hungry.” she answered simply, pulling out a large red canister of dairy. Confusion was your prominent emotion but you didn’t dare to question her methods. Shaking the metal up and down vigorously she ran back, popping off the cap on the way. Your clenched thighs were quickly peeled apart by Ellie as she made room for herself between your dangling legs. In one hand she hoisted up the whipped cream and with her other she took your chin, angling it upward.

“Open.” she commanded. You separated your lips in obedience but it wasn’t enough.

“Wider.” Ellie’s hand cradled your jaw as it dropped even further this time. With this she squirted the milky, white cream down your throat.

“Now swallow,” she instructed until your compliance, “good girl.” A cocky, power hunger smirk painted Ellie’s face as she watched you melt into the palm of her hand. You were sure that the thin cotton of your panties was now far from dry.

“We’re gonna have some fun now... hands up.” With assistance from the girl in blue, you shed a layer of clothing. Your tit’s instantly perked up with the frigid air of the kitchen now surrounding them. Ellie watched in awe as dozens of fantasies played out in her head. It was a struggle just deciding what she wanted to do to you first.

The whipped cream assisted her next steps as she sprayed it across your remarkable chest. You gasped in pleasure at the cold, wet sensation. Drips of white began to trickle down your stomach as Ellie played clean up with the help of her tongue. The pink muscle pressed flat to your sternum collecting a heaping of cream and then venturing back to your own mouth. Teeth clashed and tongues wrestled as the white liquid swirled between the exchange of salvia. You left the kiss just for a moment to let out an urgent mewl. Ellie’s attention was then diverted back to your beautiful, beautiful body. She continued lapping up the sweetness taking time in between to suck on your erect nipples.

“Shit- baby, it got all over your cute little shorts,” she continued, her voice smooth like butter, “we better get these off of you then, huh?” Your bottom lip quivered in sexual agony, anticipating the future promises of friction. Ellie took her built arms and hooked them around the back of your legs. Upon swift movement she pulled you to the edge of the counter, stealing your shorts and panties in the process. Frigid steel made contact with your puffy clit aiding in some sense of satisfaction while you pleaded with Ellie.

“P-please, n-n-need you Els.” You bucked your hips demonstrating the amount of discomfort you were feeling. Ellie played dumb.

“Need what?” She teased your aching cunt with gentle brushes of her fingers at your thighs and you yelped.

“Need your fingers- your mouth- something- pleassee.” The words came out in a long slur but Ellie knew just what you were begging for oh so desperately. Having fun with her little game, she brought back the canister of white fluff, this time dispersing it across the heat you held between your inviting thighs.

Red plump lips belonging to Ellie planted deep into each bit of your flesh before eventually reaching their final destination. Your exquisite folds were glazed in milk and sugar like a special treat waiting to be devoured. For just a few seconds everything was frozen as Ellie was trapped by your fantasy-like beauty. Saving the image to memory, she dove into your crotch like it was her first, last, and only meal. Her tongue swirled through every crevice of you, taking only a few beats to express words of praise…

“My sweet, sweet girl.” , “You’re all mine” , “You taste so fucking good princess.”

Although, her affirmations could hardly be understood over your exuberant cries of pleasure. In your case, sentences were the last thing being formed as your bliss began to reach a fever pitch.

“Close,” you mumbled, “so close.”

Ellie halted all movements, not wanting it to end.

“You think I’m gonna let you cum that easy? No way baby, we still have more fun to be had.” She shook her head taunting you. No matter how much it hurt, Ellie was in control and you clenched hard trying to prevent any further acceleration to your orgasm. You wanted to be the very best girl for your very best girl.

“Come on, let’s take this to the pantry.” She hoisted you up off your place in the kitchen and assisted you there, your slick dripping down the innards of your legs as you walked (it was really more of a wobble and hop).

With a glistening face of your wetness, Ellie then commanded you again, “Lie down for me pretty.” You did so as Ellie stripped herself down, meeting your bareness. She dipped into your form on the cold tile but the heat of your bodies was enough to distract from all the outside factors.

Purple and blue welts appeared across your neck and breasts as Ellie sucked every bit of skin she could in between the wrath of her teeth. With her parallel to you, your hands reached down to confront the mess that was Ellie’s folds.

“So wet.” you whimpered in satisfaction. Knowing how just your sole pleasure could do that much to her drove you mad. You couldn’t help but slip a finger inside her tight little hole, trying to give back even just a sliver of the bliss she gave you. Ellie gasped as you filled her up, releasing the bit of flesh in her mouth that she had been suctioning to.

As much as she reveled in your pleasure, you reveled in hers. More whipped cream squirted between your bodies, mixing with the influx of sweat being produced. After many sloppy, in-and-out pumps of your digits you pulled them out to taste.

Ellie took this as an opportunity to grab your hips, holding them still for her own to align just right. You both began rocking against each other, unsteady at first, but with practice you gained a perfect rhythm. Clits bumped as heaving breaths and loud groans shot through the air. The mess hall pantry has become heaven on earth.

“Fuccckkk, I think I’m gonna…” Ellie erupted and you followed.

“Mmmmm.” Your back arching and her hips bucking chaotically, Ellie assaulted your sensitive ball of nerves with her own. The stars aligned and the angels sang as the both of you reached the climax of your lives. It was euphoric. White flooded your vision as you continued to ride out this high with the girl of your dreams. Sweet, sweet Ellie Williams.

Finally, the ravenous movement and desperate attempts at pleasure caught back up, leaving you limp and fucked out. Ellie lay next to you with a firm grip on your hand, maintaining contact as a sense of comfort and slight fear that if she didn’t hold on you’d vanish into thin air. You rolled to your side scattering gentle pecks on her arms and torso.

“My special girl” you whispered into her skin, just loud enough for Ellie to hear. She smiled at you and then let out a large sigh of release, kissing you back.

“God, you’re sticky. Wonder how that happened??” A stupid little grin was stamped on her face as she teased about the recent sexual escapades.

“Let me clean you up, yeah?” You nodded with adoring eyes. She was an angel in bed and out of it. With a wet rag Ellie cleaned up the sugary, sweet mess, giving an occasional kiss of tenderness. It was all you could’ve ever asked for, and it continued that way for the rest of the summer and many more to come.

✄ - - - - part 1 , part 2 , part 3 - - - - masterlist - - - - ♡

taglist...

@endureher @gold-dustwomxn @alexpritch @4rt3m1ss @robinismywifee @sophlovesbooks @97cityy

(taglist is for all callmelola111 works, if you'd like to be removed just kindly lmk)

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flowercrowngods · 1 year

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of snow angels, ridiculousness, and the liberating breathlessness of falling in love with robin buckley

There's insistent knocking on the front door that draws Nancy's attention away from the book she's been sucked into for the last three hours.

"Coming!" she calls, moving the blanket from around her shoulders and rushing down the stairs. The knocking only gets more insistent and louder, and Nancy calls again, "I am coming, geez!"

If this is Mike who forgot his keys, again, she's going to ask Steve for the nail bat to whoop his ass like Erica has suggested a couple times already.

But when she opens the door, it's not Mike standing there. It's a very adorable, very excited-looking Robin, her hair and jacket covered in thick white snowflakes. When exactly it started snowing, Nancy doesn't know, but the streets are white.

And so is Robin.

Robin, who's grinning at her, swaying back and forth on her feet.

"It's snowing," is all she says, and Nancy wants to roll her eyes, because obviously, but all she can do is chuckle, feeling a bit breathless.

"Y-yeah, looks like it is, huh?"

"Snow, Nance!" Robin is laughing, her excited rocking almost turning into little jumps on the spot now, the same way Dustin does when he's overly enthused.

"It's winter, Robbie, that's bound to happen, you know?"

The nickname slips past her tongue before she can rein it in, and Nancy feels her cheeks heat up. She smiles, because that's what happens when Robin is there, and leans against the doorframe – partly to keep herself from reaching out and taking Robin's hand in hers like she's been longing to do.

It's crazy and Nancy doesn't really know what to do with it. This fluttering inside her chest, this inability to stop smiling, and – most importantly – this readiness to just follow Robin anywhere. Not just physically, but mentally. Robin's thoughts are all over the place most of the time, but still Nancy wants to follow them, wants to understand, wants to share with Robin the way she sees the world.

Nancy has always loved exploration and knowledge, has always valued facts and arguments and discourse and all those things that make stupid people roll their eyes in exasperation and impatience. But never Robin. She will engage with Nancy's hunger for knowledge, will support it, will spend hours in the library with her, smiling and bringing Nancy books upon books, even if they will stray from their original mission because Robin got excited over one thing or another, and then it's Nancy who indulges with a smile on her face.

They follow each other, and they do it with soft smiles, gentle massages if they've been stuck in one position too long, and patience. Curiosity. Trust.

It's new. It shouldn't work – and it didn't, in the beginning – but it does. Miraculously, wonderfully, it does. Miraculously, wonderfully, Robin's excitement sparks a giddiness in Nancy that she can only compensate by letting out a breathy laugh.

That only makes Robin grin all the brighter, and Nancy feels dizzy with it.

"Come and make snow angels with me. Dingus is busy, he has betrayed me and I'll make him pay by making the mightiest of all snow angels! And you're gonna join me."

Nancy's cheeks are starting to ache from smiling so much, but still she keeps at it. She crosses her arms in front of her chest and inclines her head.

"Oh, am I now?"

"You are in fact, Lady Wheeler," Robin says in that voice of hers. That stupidly endearing voice. "You're going to put on your coat and that floofy pink wooly hat that Steve crocheted for you the other week, and you're gonna join me on this adventure."

They look at each other for a moment or two, the snow keeps falling, covering Robin in white flakes that look so good on her, that make her look so young, so carefree. So beautiful.

See, beautiful is not usually a word that Nancy associates with the other woman. Smart, yes. Adorable, infuriating, endearing, really fucking amazing, sure. But lately, Nancy has started to put beautiful up there on the shelf of Robin Words inside her mind.

Before she knows it, captivated by the ethereal beauty of Robin covered in snow, waiting patiently, the entirety of her absolutely breathtaking attention solely on Nancy, she reaches up and brushes a strand of Robin's hair back behind her ear.

"Uhm."

The excitement and giddiness make way for something different and Nancy watches as Robin's face falls slightly. It does that sometimes when she looks at Nancy for a bit too long and Nancy looks back. When they share something personal that makes the air sizzle or heavy between them.

And every time Nancy forgets how to breathe.

"I'll be right back," she says, her voice no more than a whisper, before she whirls around and all but slams the door shut behind her. She leans against it for a second, catching her breath and clenching her eyes shut. "Get it together, Wheeler!" she hisses at herself.

But eventually she does grab her coat, puts on her new hat that Robin keeps commenting on, and grabs some matching woollen gloves. When she opens the door, Robin is still outside, but her grin has made way to a more tender smile. She's made no move to free her hair from the snow, and Nancy has to bite her tongue on the remark that she's gonna catch her death like that. Because snow looks too good on her, and Nancy apparently likes to watch now.

"Well, let's go then, Lady Buckley," she says and pulls the front door closed behind her.

Robin immediately offers her arm for Nancy to link with, which she promptly accepts.

"Oh, I'm no lady," she says, taking Nancy down her driveway and onto the street, leading her away from home. "I'm a knight who tricked the king in a game of wits. I'm gonna be head of the royal guard one day, actually."

Nancy smiles down at the white ground, her heart fluttering at Robin's antics. Of course she's a knight, not a lady, and of course she says it in such a matter-of-fact voice that there's not a hint of doubt to it.

"Let me guess, the king is Steve."

"Please," Robin scoffs. "The king is Erica, who's tricking the entire kingdom into believing Steve has any say here."

Nancy laughs at that and sobers only when Robin joins her. Sobers because it's quite breathtaking to see Robin joking and making up stories so easily, laughing in a manner so carefree it's liberating.

Robin is always liberating. Nancy has never met someone like her, has never felt like she does around Robin. Never dared. Never followed anyone as lightly as she does with her.

At night, when the hours on the clock aren't real anymore, stuck in the void between 2am and 5am, Nancy feels like she has uncovered one of life's great mysteries when she's with Robin. Or maybe Robin has discovered it simply by existing and being herself. By being Steve's soulmate.

But Nancy gets to witness it, gets to exist in Robin's orbit, gets to follow her wherever she leads, gets to explore and experience life through Robin's eyes and hands and words. There is always sense to her ramblings, and it's usually deeper than she lets on at first, but it always captures Nancy in a way that no one ever has before.

Like now, when Robin lets go of her arm and takes Nancy's gloved hand in hers, leading her down a trail and into the forest. She's sure that Robin isn't even entirely aware of how tight their grip is, but Nancy only laughs as she follows, hiding the way she squeezes Robin's hand by feigning a stumble here and there. Robin's grip is secure and unrelenting, and Nancy feels safe.

"We always used to go here when I was little, because my mother said that the angels are always in the woods more than around the houses, and so they'd find my snow angels better if they were here than in my backyard. Granted, that didn't stop me from essentially digging over our yard in my clumsy attempts at making snow angels first thing in the morning, but mother just left me to it and made hot choc– Oh shit!"

Robin stops abruptly and whirls around to Nancy, still not letting go of her hand.

"I should have made hot chocolate! Because we're gonna be freezing so hard when we're done. I'm so sorry, Nancy, next time I'm gonna bring hot chocolate!"

Next time. Nancy isn't even entirely sure what's gonna happen, but the thought of a next time makes her heart jump somehow. So she brings her hands up to Robin's shoulders and keeps her still.

"Next time," she says, smiling gently at the ball of nerves that is Sir Robin of Buckley, royal knight to the kingdom.

"Next time," Robin confirms and calms down. "Next time. Good, yes, perfect." She looks around at the untouched snow in the clearing they have reached and then looks back at Nancy with an almost manic grin. "Let's make some snow angels, Lady Wheeler."

"Sure," Nancy laughs, everything inside her tingling in the face of that look on Robin's face. "I'm guessing this is as good a time as any to tell you that I've honestly never made a snow angel before."

And Robin is gaping at her. Appalled, horrified, positively flabbergasted! Nancy wants to kiss it away, but all she does is turn away with what can only be called a giggle. Nancy Wheeler is not someone who giggles! She hasn't since sophomore year of high school! Leave it to Robin Buckley to resort her to all those confusing things again, but in a softer way than boys ever have.

Maybe that's what it's like to like a girl. Soft. Easy. Tentative and yet so sure. The air filled with a kiddy kind of patience and a patient kind of giddiness that makes you want to take her hand more than it makes you want to kiss her.

Maybe. She never asked. But it's definitely what it's like to like Robin Buckley. Maybe she's special like that, too.

"I'll show you how to make a snow angel, Nancy Elizabeth Wheeler the twenty-third, and if it's the last thing I do!" Robin declares, and Nancy sputters at the ridiculousness of the name. Robin only grins back, obviously proud of herself. God, Nancy wants to kiss her stupid and then do nothing but hug her in the snow.

And so Robin shows her. They lie down in the snow beside each other, their eyes meeting, their arms spread out. Robin reaches for her hand, linking their fingers slowly, oh so slowly that it sort of takes Nancy's breath away. She wants to learn. Not only how to make a snow angel, but also how to hold Robin's hand in a way that makes her feel safe, too. Warm. Wonderful. Giddy.

All those urgently soft things that Nancy is feeling right now.

Gently, slowly, Robin moves their linked hands up until they can't hold each other's eyes anymore, the sight obstructed by linked hands on glittering white powder. It's Nancy who moves their hands down, farther than where they started, all the way until they'd have to let go.

"Yeah," Robin rasps when they still again. "That's how you do it. You move your arms up and down to create the wings, and then your legs to make the dress."

Nancy smirks, moving their hands in the motion Robin suggested, her other arm joining in, but her legs still. "What if my angel is actually a royal knight who tricked the king and will be head of the royal guard one day?"

She's flirting. And even though Robin's cheeks are red from the cold, she could swear they flush even further.

"Knights can wear dresses, too."

"Mm-hm. This one feels better like this, though," Nancy argues, her smile softening. "They look better like that, too."

Robin hesitates for a second, her breath hitching, before she comes up to lean on one arm, hand still linked with Nancy's.

"Ridiculous angel, huh?"

Nancy feels dizzy with the way Robin looks at her, that heaviness back to her gaze, a certain importance that looks a lot like the urgent softness and soft urgency Nancy's been feeling since Robin came knocking on her door.

"Absolutely infuriating angel," she agrees, feeling rather breathless. "Ridiculous. Stubborn enough to turn entire worlds on their head, and endearing enough to get away with it."

Robin huffs, looking down for a moment as if in an attempt to hide her face. Nancy can't quite breathe or track her own mind, but that's fine because all she wants to focus on is Robin.

That's another wonderful feature about her. Nancy's mind is very loud very often, but not in the same way that Eddie's or Steve's or even Robin's are. It's loud with responsibility, with the need to control, to explore, to figure out, to solve.

Robin gets her to quiet down. Gets her to focus on something other than that.

Something less to do with Nancy Wheeler and the world, and everything to do with Robin Buckley and the universe. Life. In a different way than what can be captured and expressed with science and reason and words.

That was what's drawn Nancy in, and that's what's keeping her.

It's what makes her shift her hold on Robin's hand so they're holding onto each other more securely.

"What?" she's whispering when Robin doesn't move for a while, and it's quiet enough not to burst the bubble of heaviness they find themselves in.

"Nothing." Robin shakes her head and then lets herself fall forward into the snow, her head inches away from Nancy's. Their hands, still linked, are now resting on Robin's stomach. "The ridiculous angel is just a mess."

Nancy's heart is fluttering at Robin's proximity and her breathy voice so, so close. She turns lightly, lying on her side in the snow, her other hand landing between them. They're so close she can smell Robin's scent of laundry detergent, books, Steve and something much sweeter.

"How?" she asks, just as breathy as Robin.

There's a huff of breath and Nancy can see that Robin's eyes are closed. "Because the ridiculous angel is ridiculous enough that… that they can't stop thinking about… someone. And think that there might be something there. Something more. With that someone."

"Someone," Nancy says, smiling still, and Gods, she feels so inebriated with it. "Why's it ridiculous to like that someone?"

"It's not ridiculous to like that someone. It's a law of nature, actually, to like that someone. She's, like, the smartest, prettiest, most badass gir– someone out there. It's just ridiculous to think that they would like the angel back. It's ridiculous to think that they'd like how much the angel dreams about taking their hand and holding it as they kiss. How much the angel thinks about holding them. It's all the angel, the ridiculous, infuriating angel can think about. The angel is actually a crazy person, you see."

"I see," Nancy breathes, her smile so wide, so painful that she wonders briefly if it should at all be possible to smile so wide. But she does. Because Robin still has her eyes closed. Because Robin is a crazy person. And so is Nancy.

Crazy. Absolutely batshit. Gone for the angel.

"Robbie?"

"Yes?"

"Can you look at me?"

"Why?" She sounds like a toddler, her question more a refusal than a complaint, and it makes Nancy laugh. Crazy.

"Please?" And Nancy knows no one can resist her pouty voice. Robin herself has told her so.

It works. Robin opens those pretty eyes of hers and Nancy hopes that one day she'll get her breath back. They look at each other for a moment, two, three, and then Nancy moves her free hand up to Robin's cheek, gently stroking the hair back from her eyes.

And then she whispers, because she's still out of breath, because she doesn't want to spook Robin, and because she doesn't want to burst their bubble. She isn't ready yet for the world to hear. Only Robin. Only Robin. "None of that is ridiculous."

It takes a moment, but then understanding dawns in those eyes and Nancy is falling and falling and falling. That smile catches her, though.

"It's not?"

"It's not."

A beat.

"Shit," Robin breathes, and then they're laughing again, leaning into each other with it until their foreheads are touching, the snow making way for every confession, every touch, every possibility.

"Nance," she whispers once they've calmed down again. "Can I kiss you?"

"Yeah."

And so they kiss in the embrace of the snow angels they've made, half covered by snow, secluded and safe from the world so ready to judge. It's just them. And Nancy finds that kissing Robin Buckley feels just as right as saving the world with her, just as right as following her into the library, into the forest, into the depths of her mind.

She never wants to stop.

written for @thefreakandthehair's spicy six winter fic challenge. the prompt: “I’ve honestly never made a snow angel before.” 🤍 thank you for creating this event/challenge! 🤍

#ronance #robin x nancy #nancy x robin #ronance fic #nancy wheeler #robin buckley #stranger things #dio words #this is my first ronance idk if this is okay. Nancy is a bit strong on the introspection in this one but eh it happens #she has a lot of thoughts okay?#sapphic love is soft and so are they. I hoped to convey that #go check out the collection on ao3 and read people's works (or click the tag to read on tumblr #lexswinterficchallenge #might post this to ao3 when it's not 3.17am lmao

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misaverawrites · 2 years

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hey hey!! first wanted to say your writing is amazing and you are so skilled! i come with a cyberpunk/silverhand idea -- after the game ends (specifically The Sun ending) obvi Johnny and V part ways, and V inherits the Afterlife. my idea is that she keeps herself very low profile but also remains friends with Kerry and goes to dives to perform with him when at one gig REAL Johnny shows up after looking everywhere and it's a whole reunion with mutual pining and maybe a little reunion spice?🥵💦

When We Meet Again (Johnny Silverhand x Reader)

summary: You and Johnny find each other again, even after you were separated.

tags: SMUT, reunion, mentions of death, bar bathroom sex, there is actually a plot to this lol, kissing, hugging, bent over a bathroom sink, sexual jokes, Johnny has a body, Reader is called V, use of the word cunt, oral (f. receiving), choking kind of, Johnny makes you watch him fuck you

a/n: bro you just requested this and it sent my ideas going wild bro also thank you so much 😭😭😭 this is literally 2.4k words of my love for Johnny so I hope you all enjoy it!!!

Becoming a Legend sure is a kick in the ass.

It was all you had ever wished for and now you sit in a seedy bar that, thankfully, isn’t The Afterlife. Kerry by your side, the both of you praying that no one would notice you in this shithole. Any semblance of alone time is a blessing for the both of you.

How did Rogue do this? You didn’t even think you’d survive the gig from Mr. Blue Eyes, but, fortune favored the bold apparently. After losing Johnny, somehow surviving surgery, and now being the main proprietor of The Afterlife, you had it all. The only thing strumming through your mind is how much you missed Johnny, spending five months with him changed your life in so many ways and all you could do now is think about him. He drove you crazy and you missed him like hell. Sometimes, you’d get together with Kerry in these shitty little bars and play some SAMURAI songs with Denny and Nancy, for old time’s sake. You sometimes wish he’d just pop in, just once. Of course, that’d also make you think you were going crazy again.

You hear the door open and look up to see Nancy, who alerts the bartender, “So, you guys excited to play again?” Kerry rolls his eyes and pushes his hair back, aloof as always. Must come with superstar territory, you joke to yourself and look to Nancy, giving her a warm smile and nod, “Yeah! Denny gonna be here soon?” Nancy nods as she goes to set up on the stage, “Should be here in a few, she sent me a call on the holo!” She calls over to you as you finish your drink and hop off of the barstool to go help Nancy set up for the show.

“You know,” She says quietly to you, “I know it doesn’t seem like it, but I haven’t seen Kerry so happy in a long time. He really enjoys doing these.” You scoff a little, “He doesn’t seem…” She shakes her head a bit and gives you a smile as she tunes your guitar, “It’s the fame. I do it too, Night City is cruel, likes to take away things you care about, you’ll figure that out now that you’re in charge of The Afterlife.” If only she knew… You thought to yourself: If only she knew how Night City had already taken away too many people from me: Johnny, Jackie, Rogue… You sigh to yourself as she places a supportive hand on your shoulder, just for a second before taking it away, Denny walks in, sending you a polite smile and a wave which you quickly return to her. Kerry downs his drink quickly before making his way over to you all on the stage, applying his eyeliner as he walks.

“How the hell do you do that?” You ask quizzically and he laughs a bit, “Years of practice, kiddo. You’ll get it one of these days.” He makes his way onto the stage as you all finish setting up, a small crowd has formed, it’s usually pretty low-key at these events but word gets out sometimes. “Hey, guys! Good to see you here tonight!” You call out as the lights dim, and the crowd cheers with support. People had gotten used to you performing as Johnny, and you’d quickly found your way around SAMURAI’s guitar notes and vocals, the DeLuze Orphean still feels preem in your hands, the way the strings burn slightly into your fingers as you begin to play and the crowd’s excitement grows quickly. You had developed a small group of fans as the new “vocalist” of SAMURAI, which was officially, still not a band but more a relic of the first quarter of the 21st-century.

C-Can you feel it?

Can you touch it?

Get ready ‘cause here we go!

The lyrics burn at your throat like a fire that cannot be easily quenched, you watch the crowd, their cheering combining with the noise of the music into a cacophony of passion.

Not backing down!

Never backing down!

Not backing down!

Yeah!

Your smile is wide as you and Kerry turn back to back, singing together and playing guitars side by side, you’re so caught up in the vibrant atmosphere until you see a familiar figure walk in, the red hue of sunglasses catching your eye. You pause, just for a second, to stare.

Johnny fucking Silverhand. It was him, somehow, in your life again. Somehow alive again. Really alive, with a body and everything. You might have cried on stage if you weren’t so dedicated to doing this and letting him see you do this.

Suits run when I come undone!

Can't kill me, I'm zero and one!

Add justice to the people's math!

Blaze your way down the rebel path!

Your eyes are glued to Johnny and he’s grinning, with a wide, child-like smile at you. You’ve never seen him that happy. You really hoped this was him, not some sick fuck trying to make money off of a lie. Your mind raced through any number of reasons why this couldn’t be Johnny, you couldn’t let yourself be vulnerable yet, not after the past seven months of running for your life from a seemingly inevitable, premature death.

C-Can you feel it?!

Can you touch it?!

Get ready cause here we go!

C-Can you feel it?!

Can you touch it?!

Get ready cause here we go!

The song comes to a close quickly, “Thanks for coming guys! We’re gonna take a quick ten-minute break and come back on!” While there’s a collective bit of confusion from the crowd, there is no argument. You liked this crowd more than the mercs at The Afterlife, you’d decided. Less whiny.

You run off the stage, looking at Johnny with your own eyes. “This isn’t real.” You whisper as he shakes his head, “It is, do you finally wanna see my cock?” He asks, chuckling to himself as you gasp, glaring at him. “Okay, I’m gonna ask you something only the real Johnny would know.” He takes off his sunglasses and rolls his eyes, but nods to let you proceed, “Okay before we left for Mikoshi, what did I tell you that I wish I had gotten to do with you.” He chuckles throatily, “Are you sure you want me to answer this around other people, because what I remember you saying is,” He raises his voice about an octave, to mock you a bit, “Oh, Johnny! I just wish I could feel your hot, impressive cock in my cunt, really bending me over this bed, or I really wish that I could ride your cock on a stage.” Your face flushes and tears threaten to fall from your eyes, this is Johnny Silverhand, your former brain parasite. You wrap your arms around his body, and it feels exactly as you thought it would. His hands rub at the small of your back, comforting you as you sob into his chest.

“H-How are you here?” You asked, looking up at him with wide eyes, “I’m not sure,” He says quietly, “I just woke up and I’m in my body. My living former body.” You shake your head in disbelief, if this was a dream, it was fucked up on your part. You pinch yourself hard and gasp at the pain, not a dream in the slightest. You grab onto Johnny’s tank top and bring his lips to yours, he’s alive and you’re not going to waste a minute more.

“Where are you going, V?” Kerry asks you as you drag Johnny into the bathroom, a smirk growing on his lips, “I’m taking twenty, Ker! Play a song where you sing alone!” Kerry looks quizzical at your rushing, you’re normally never like this but he accepts this answer as you shut the bathroom door and lock it.

“I’ve dreamed about this for so long.” You murmur, as Johnny chuckles, “Not as long as I have. I haven’t fucked in fifty years, you’re gonna feel this for a week.” Until now, his hot breath against your neck is something you hadn’t wished for. Your lips on Johnny’s an action that feels right, pulling away for air from this man that you have longed for? It only serves to feel wrong, you’d willingly die with Johnny’s lips on yours. Your hands thread through his hair as he lets out a quiet groan of approval, “I’m going to fuck the hell out of you.” You let out a whine as he chuckles, trapping your body between him and the bathroom sink, his hands trail the length of your body, working you out of your clothes, quickly, and expertly. You’ve technically, never slept together but he knows everything that makes you tick, everything that turns you on. He unbuckles his belt with a pronounced click, and his pants hit the dirty floor of the bar bathroom, he spins you around, “So fuckin’ wet, I’ve barely even touched you. You miss me while I was gone?”

You feel hot at his words and as you feel his fingers dip in between your thighs, lapping up the nectar, which now covers his fingers. He brings his fingers to your lips, “Come on babe, open your mouth so you can taste yourself.” Your lips part, almost on command as you feel his hard cock, growing and pulsing against the small of your back. As you suck on his fingers, his lips come to your neck, kissing it at first, tender, something you’d never believed Johnny would do. His small, tender neck kisses lead to bites, not hard enough to hurt you, but hard enough to make you weak in the knees and grow your arousal. Kerry’s going to have a field day teasing you about this. “Spread your legs for me, come on, V.” You part your legs, and expect his cock to slip in without much fanfare, silly considering this is Johnny. Johnny’s lips quickly come off of your neck and travel down your body, before ending up at your arousal. His lips tease at your clit, surrounding the bundle of nerves, your legs are weak as you hold onto the sink for any kind of leverage, “Fuck you taste so damn good,” You hear his growl as his tongue slips inside of you.

As Johnny tonguefucks your cunt skillfully, you cannot help but feel like the luckiest girl in the world. His hands grip against the flesh of your thighs, and it isn’t until you catch a glimpse of yourself in the mirror, flushed skin, the peak of Johnny’s head, practically drowning in your most sensitive parts, it almost brings you to the brink of an orgasm right then and there. “J-Johnny! ‘M gonna-- gonna cum, Johnny!” His name sounds incredible when it falls from your lips, “Not yet, baby.” He croons, sliding his tongue out of you. You whine with a hint of frustration, causing him a small laugh. “I want to feel the way your cunt tightens around my cock when you cum, so you’re just gonna have to wait a little bit longer. His cock throbs against your skin and you feel Johnny bring the head of it to the heat that burns between your legs, the feeling of wetness slicking your thighs as well as Johnny’s face. The head of his cock presses against your pussy, slicking it as he pushes it inside of you with a deep groan.

It’s been fifty years for him, this all on its own is perfect. “So damn tight around me, fuckin’ perfect.” He whispers into your ear as he thrusts his cock inside of you. His hand comes to your neck, not wrapping too tightly, just enough to cause a gasp in surprise as he forces your head to face the mirror, “You’re gonna watch while I,” He hits the most sensitive spot inside of you, causing you to gasp and almost making you lose control, “Fuck you senseless.” You nod, eyes trained on the mirror as Johnny’s hand moves from your throat to your breasts, he squeezes at the flesh, pinching your nipple in between his two fingers. You gasp at the sensation, the soft grip his hands have on you, it’s all too much. “Johnny, I’m-!” Johnny groans again as he nods, “Come on baby, cum all over my cock, all for me.” And with that, you come undone. The only sensation is that of Johnny filling you to the brim with his seed and your cunt, willingly throbbing around his cock. He pulls himself out of you, helping you redress into your clothes. The music outside tells you that Kerry is enjoying some solo time for himself to show off a little, you laugh as you clasp your bra behind you. “I missed you, Johnny… fuck, I can’t believe it’s really you.” He smiles at you, rubbing the pad of his thumb against your cheek. He kisses your lips, softer this time. Despite the fact that this isn’t a dream and this isn’t a joke, you don’t know if you can trust your mind enough to actually believe this.

“I’ve gotta go and finish the concert but… will you stay? Come with me to The Afterlife later?” You ask, almost scared that he’ll leave you again. He smiles a smile that you love more now that it’s really him. “Of course, I’ll stay. I wanna see how cool you look performing my songs.” Definitely is Johnny, you think to yourself, laughing softly. Before you go to unlock the bathroom door, he stops you with one more kiss, “Hey,” He speaks softly, it’s intimate, “I just want you to know, I’m never leaving you again.” You smile and kiss him once more before unlocking the door. Thankful for the confirmation that for the rest of your days, it’ll be you and Johnny.

#johnny silverhand x reader #johnny silverhand #cyberpunk 2077 #johnny silverhand x you #cyberpunk2077 #fanfiction #fanfics #x reader fanfiction #x reader fanfic #johnny silverhand x v

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pankowperfection · 2 years

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Birthday Wish

Summary: Austin has always wanted you to take more initiative in the bedroom, so for his birthday you decide to give him what he wants

Warnings: smut, mentions of sex toy use, girl riding her man, 18+

You had been dating Austin for almost a year. His dominating personality in the bedroom worked well for you, you didn't really prefer to be in charge. You enjoyed how he just took what he wanted from your body while giving you immense pleasure. He had asked you on multiple occasions to get on top, and while you tried you could just never find a rhythm or motion that worked for you or that you could sustain. A failed attempt just made you self conscious, effectively ruining the mood and leaving you both frustrated.

After talking to several of your friends and doing lots of research online, you decided to surprise Austin for his birthday with what he wanted most, you riding him. In the weeks leading up to his day you bought a dildo with a suction cup base, practicing as much as you could until you found just the right way to move your hips to get yourself off. You just hoped it would feel amazing for him as well. You had a few other surprises lined up as well, wanting to show Austin just how much he meant to you.

"Wake up baby," you murmur in his ear, trailing wet kisses over his jaw before reaching his lips. His eyes open sleepily, reaching up and softly stroking the hair out of your face. "Good morning beautiful," he gives you a quick kiss, smiling back at you. "Happy birthday Austin. I love you. Now get up and get dressed, we have a busy day ahead of us." He groans as you get out of the bed, pulling you back down on top of him then quickly rolling you both over, supporting his weight on his arms as he hovers over your body. "But baby, what about my birthday sex?" You shove him away playfully, dodging his lips and forcing him to kiss your cheek and neck instead. "Later Aus- come on, go get ready." "Fine," he grumbles, heading into the closet as you marvel at his glorious form.

The two of you spent the day with Chase and Drew, you mostly acting as a chaperone to their drunken antics. Watching Austin laugh and dance to the music, looking so carefree and happy, you couldn't help but fall a little more in love with him. Just around midnight he stumbles his way over to you, leaning against the table for support as you bite back a laugh. "Y/n, baby, beautiful. Will you please take me home? Want my birthday sex now." He leans down and kisses you sloppily, all tongue as he attempts to make out with you. You push him away laughing, standing up and wrapping your arms around him. "Alright boys, I'm taking Austin home. Do you want me to call you an Uber?" "Nah we're good!" Chase yells, pulling Drew back to the dance floor.

The drive home seems to sober him up thankfully, his hand tracing patterns into your bare thigh as you drive back to your shared apartment. "Aussie - you're driving me crazy," you groan, his fingers now toying with the crotch of your shorts. "Good, want you to be nice and wet f' me." He pulls the material to the side, lazily dragging his fingers up and down through your wet folds as you struggle to focus on the road. When you finally park he is eager to get you up the stairs, lips connecting with yours as soon as you cross into the bedroom. He slips into his usual roll, shoving you down onto the bed and crawling up over your body. "Gonna ruin you princess," his voice is lower and thick with lust, bolts of electricity shooting to your core. You take him by surprise, rolling him to his back and straddling his hips, erection already pressing into your ass. "Not tonight baby. Tonight, I'm gonna ruin you."

His eyes darken at your words, teeth sinking into his bottom lip as he watches you peel off your shirt. The rest of your clothes follow quickly, his hands finding your breasts and massaging them lightly. "God you're so hot. Look so pretty on top of me." His praise only spurs you on more, leaning down and connecting your lips in a passionate kiss as you start to rock your hips over his length. When your tongue enters his mouth he moans, hands kneading your ass and helping you grind against him. You let him sit up to remove his shirt, your lips leaving a wet path down his neck to his chest. You lick and kiss over his midsection, teasing around the waistband of his jeans. "Baby please," he groans, thrusting his hips up and hoping for some friction. "Aw Austin, don't worry I'll take care of you."

You undo his button and zipper slowly, wanting to make him more desperate for your touch. He lifts his hips slightly so you can peel the material down his long, muscular legs. His cock springs out and lands against his abs, tip already leaking pre-cum that you can't resist licking off. "Fuck," his hands tangle in your hair as you swirl your tongue around his shaft, swallowing him down until your nose touches his pelvis. You set a torturous pace, sliding your mouth up and down slowly as he fights to stay still. After a few minutes of teasing you release him, crawling up to hover over his length as he watches you with lust filled eyes.

You sink down just enough for the tip to go inside, moaning loudly at the delicious stretch. His hands grip your hips tightly, abs flexed as he resists ramming up into you and taking control. You drop your hips all the way down, filling yourself up and gasping at the fullness. "Austin, fuck. You're so big." He moans again, eyes blazing as he takes in the sight of you on top of him. Rather than bouncing up and down, you wind your hips in a wide circle, his cock rubbing every inch of your walls and sending pleasure singing through your veins. "Shit, sweetheart. Squeezing me so tight already." His hands guide your movements, helping you rotate on his lap. As you get closer to the edge you start to bounce up and down, riding him fast and hard as your mixed sounds of pleasure with skin meeting skin fill the room.

"Fuck yes, y/n just like that." One of his hands finds your clit, rubbing harsh circles as you continue to bounce up and down on his length. He starts meeting your thrusts, moving in sync with your body and making his cock hit deeper inside you. "Shit Austin, I'm gonna cum." "That's it baby, give it to me." A few thrusts later and your body trembles, curses falling from your lips as you soak him with your release. He can't resist the way you're milking him, following you into bliss as he fills you up. You collapse onto him breathless, both of your bodies covered in a light sheen of sweat as you come down. "Best birthday ever," he mutters, kissing your forehead sweetly. "Glad I could make it perfect for you baby."

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#austin north fanfiction #austin north imagine #austin north fluff #austin north smut #austin north #obx smut #smut #obx #outer banks

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self-proclaimed-chaotic-good · 2 years

Text

Freaks Stick Together | Hawkins Crew

Prompt: Forest

Words: 4429

Fandom: Stranger Things

A/N: Will-centric. He needs a hug and to know that he has a strong support system that he can lean on. This became longer than I intended just to fit in the prompt, so this is very late for Writer’s Month.

Summary: School is back in session, allowing students to make up for lost time due to the recovery from the “earthquakes”. While Will is glad to be back where his friends are, the town also brought back unpleasant memories. This time, he has more people to help him feel less alone.

Will stared at the entrance of Hawkins High with trepidation, clutching at the straps of his backpack tightly. His brother ruffled his hair, a familiar and soothing feel that eased the nerves only slightly. They spoke about this day any chance they could ever since they decided to stay in Hawkins for school. Jonathan promised to be there for Will and they could hang out if he wanted.

Will didn’t want to bother him, knowing that his older brother was considering helping the school’s newspaper under Nancy’s encouragement. El was going to be dropped off by Hopper later after they got a last minute meeting with Dr. Owens in the morning, but Will was sure that she would most likely be hanging out with Max and Lucas.

Jonathan sighed when Will didn’t react to him, leaning back in his chair. He looked at the familiar high school, then around the parking lot, picking at pieces from his memory of the last time he was there. He never thought that he’d be able to finish high school back in their hometown, a small place with a bittersweet mixture in the middle of nowhere, Indiana. Now that the Upside Down was dealt with, for good, knock on wood, he felt more confident that by graduating here, he’d finally close a chapter of that story and start something new.

A knock on the window jolted the Byers brothers out of their deep thoughts, swiveling their heads over to Nancy who gave them an apologetic smile. Jonathan grinned, looking back at his brother who rolled his eyes and jerked his head over as if giving his permission to go. He hesitated, stopping to ruffle his hair again with more vigor before getting out to greet her.

Will grunted to himself, climbing out the car and continued to stare at the building. It didn’t last long as a familiar BMW rolled in with Dustin and Steve finding things to nag each other about. Dustin’s ankle had healed, but he still asked Steve for a ride and no matter how much he complained, Steve would always give it to him. Back to the usual, then.

Right behind was an old black van playing metal music parking right next to the BMW. Lucas and Erica jumped out, the former quickly going around to help Max climb out and handed her crutches.

“You’re lucky I didn’t puke from your driving, you crazy ass –”

“Erica!” Lucas scolded.

His little sister rolled her eyes. “Bye, losers! Bye, Max!” With that, she marched over to Hawkins Middle School with purpose, leaving the older kids shaking their heads fondly after her.

“Why are we losers and you’re just Max?” Lucas asked the red-head.

Max snorted. “Seriously? You had to ask?”

“Yeah, yeah. Thanks for the ride, Eddie!”

“Don’t mention it, my young padawans,” Eddie said with a grin, hopping out of the van. He eyed the BMW where Steve and Dustin were still sitting inside arguing about a movie. “Now, go on in. I’m gonna talk to your mom over there.”

Lucas grimaced. “Just don’t be late. Principal Higgins might crack down on your attendance record.”

Eddie waved him off. “Nah, he wouldn’t. Well, maybe. Well… it’s fine. It won’t take long.”

Lucas nodded, his eyes landing on Will who was watching the whole interaction. His face brightened as he waved him over. “Will! Come on, man, get over here!”

Will smiled, looking back at Jonathan who paused his conversation with Nancy to give him an encouraging nod. Nancy smiled. Will wasn’t that close to her at first, only exchanging pleasantries out of courtesy and not knowing how to interact. Lately, they’ve been making the effort with Nancy staying for breakfast when she slept over instead of sneaking out the window and Will testing his ideas for dungeon puzzles with her.

It felt very normal and domestic with Jonathan and his mom cooking breakfast together in the kitchen, Hopper heading out early and grabbing his breakfast and lunch packed in tupperware from his mom, and El digging into her eggos. Every other day, Jonathan would make a different version of eggos, whether he added banana and chocolate syrup, assorted berries and a mountain of whip cream, or even cutting it up and building it like a house. El liked covering that one in syrup and knocking down the walls one at a time.

“Wait, wait, wait,” he heard Dustin shouting to Steve, stopping his older friend mid rant. “Will’s here!” He clambered out of the car before Steve could finish, leaving him huffing about how he never listens.

Will felt an overwhelming flood of happiness as Dustin ran over to him, dragging him over to meet Lucas halfway. Max nodded over at him in her usual cool greeting, but her grin showed how glad she was that he was here.

“Dude, there’s so much to catch up on, but the most important one is Hellfire Club,” Dustin started as the group slowly made their way into the building to match Max’s pace. “So, after what happened, Principal Higgins isn’t allowing us to host Hellfire on campus, so we’re planning to alternate between Eddie’s place and Steve’s. You’re going to love Eddie, he’s amazing. You saw him, right? He’s over there talking to Steve.”

Will twisted his head to see said metalhead bending down with his forearm leaning on the roof of the car while he spoke to Steve. There was a weird feeling in his stomach watching them talk, so he quickly looked away. He couldn’t tell what that feeling was.

Maybe it was that bitterness of finding out that they were crazy about DnD again, and was obsessed with their new DM, Eddie, when he had been trying to get them to play with him for the entire summer. He shook that thought immediately, knowing that he had gotten over that when he first found out about it and was happy that they were playing again. He just missed playing with them.

If it’s not that, then maybe it was because Eddie was smiling sweetly at Steve while the latter was leaning in closely, the distance between their faces, or lack thereof, being something that would be completely shunned or mocked if anyone else in this narrow minded town saw.

Will remembered the road trip to LA over the weekend, how overwhelming it was being in the city. Then, hanging out by the skateparks that reminded him and El of Max, he saw two couples on a double date. What surprised him was that the two men ended up being a couple as well as the two women. And they were holding hands. In public.

“Where’s Mike?” Will found himself asking.

They all shrugged, or what was close to a shrug in Max’s case. “Nancy’s here, so I assume Mike is here somewhere,” Lucas said.

“Let's go over our schedules again so we can figure out where to meet up before lunch and after school,” Dustin said, “Do you have a copy of El’s schedule? This is going to be the first time that we’ll be at school with her. Like, actually taking classes at the same time and not sneaking her around and stuff. This is exciting!”

Lunch was interesting to say the least. As he figured, Will saw Jonathan leave campus with Nancy to take pictures around town for her article, so he went to Dustin’s locker that was assigned as the meeting spot before they headed to the cafeteria. Will had been working on his new character sheet in between classes and was sketching out a character design when someone stopped in front of him. Part of him wanted it to be Mike, who he had only seen in passing so far, or even El to check on how she’s doing so far. Instead, it was Eddie Munson himself, appraising his work.

“Uh, hi,” Will said, shifting his binder around to have a better grip on it. “You must be Eddie.”

He grinned, baring his bright white teeth and flashing his dimples. “And you must be the great Will the Wise,” he said, bowing dramatically with a wave of his hand. “Tis a pleasure to finally meet.”

Okay, Will thought, I can kind of see the charm of him. “You know about me?”

“Of course. The boys talked about you in almost every session, especially in the beginning of the school year. ‘Our friend Will used to do this’, ‘Will, our other DM, had made a campaign with that’. I knew your brother from before, but even Steve spoke about you.”

Will’s eyes widened, feeling his cheeks heat up when he mentioned the Party’s de facto babysitter and chaperone. “Really? What would Steve even say? He’s closer to Dustin than he is with the rest of us.”

“Oh, you know, I really shouldn’t be telling anyone this, in case this information gets into the wrong hands, but…,: Eddie said, leaning in to whisper, “Steve said that you’re one of his favorite kids.”

“No way,” Will said in disbelief, shaking his head.

Eddie nodded excitedly. “Totally. You should see how he looks when he talks about –”

His body slammed onto the lockers hard, knocking the breath out of him as one of the jocks twisted a fist around his worned out Iron Maiden shirt. Principal Higgins had not only banned Hellfire on campus, but also prohibited the club from wearing their t-shirts. Although the band shirt wasn’t breaking any dress code, Eddie was still met with disapproving looks.

“Why am I not surprised,” Andy growled, eyeing Eddie before grabbing Will’s collar as well. “The satanic worshiper and the zombie boy hanging out. Thought we chased you two out of our town a long time ago.”

“Knew you’d miss me too much,” Eddie retorted with a smirk.

“You –” Andy felt his jeans violently yanking down his legs, the force making him stumble back and almost fall on his ass. He quickly pulled them up and spun around, looking for the culprit.“Who… what the fuck?”

“Leave my brother alone, mouthbreather!” El called out, glaring at him. Will smiled, seeing his knight in floral sweater standing in the middle of the hallway with their friends behind her watching in awe and glee.

“What did you call me, you –” He tripped over as his pants fell again, making him face plant the floor. The students all burst into shocked gasps and laughter, drawing the attention of nearby teachers. Andy pulled himself up and strode over to El. “You bitch!”

“Mr. Cooper!” Ms. O’Donnell scolded with her arms crossed, pursing her lips. “This is only the first day back at school, Mr. Cooper. I do not want to give you detention, or worse, for not only public indecency, but also harassing and attempted assault on a few students.”

Andy’s jaw dropped as he stepped away from El. “But –”

“No. You’re lucky I’m feeling gracious today. Do this again and it won’t be just detention that you’ll be worried about. As for everyone else, move along. There’s nothing to see here.” With that, Ms. O’Donnell sent a nod at Eddie before walking back to her classroom.

Andy stomped away, shoving people in his path. The moment he left, the Party felt like they could finally breathe again. El ran over to Will and hugged him tightly.

“Are you okay?” El asked him.

He nodded. “I’m fine. Thanks, El.”

“Yeah, that was pretty metal staring him down like that, young Skywalker,” Eddie added, patting her shoulder.

She frowned. “Skywalker?”

Eddie blinked, mirroring her frown. “You know, Luke Skywalker? Star Wars?”

“Oh.” She nodded in understanding. “The others spoke about this, but I have not watched it yet.”

He gasped, clutching a hand over his heart as he began to make his way towards the cafeteria, the group following without a second thought. “We need to fix that, don’t we?” El grinned and Will could see that she had also slipped under his spell.

“I’m sure Steve can get us the tapes with his employee discount,” Dustin said, then gave a cheeky grin, “Or probably pay for us if Eddie asks nicely.”

Mike snorted. “He has been paying for his rentals.”

“What? No, he hasn’t. I’m a respectful paying customer,” Eddie defended himself.

“No, you flirt with him then leave without paying. Robin can vouch on this.”

“Absurd.”

Mike shook his head, then nudged Will with his elbow. “Hey, you okay? Sorry, I wasn’t here this morning. I had a habit of wearing the Hellfire Club shirt and got caught wearing it this morning. Higgins made me change my shirt, so… I’m stuck with this sweaty one from the gym’s lost and found box.”

Will wrinkled his nose, not even daring to sniff his shirt. “No, I can tell. I could smell you from the other end of the hall,” he said.

“Shut up,” Mike said, nudging him again with a smile. “I have an extra Hellfire Club shirt if you want one.”

Will smiled back. “Cool… sure.”

Lucas and Max had taken to eating at the back of the school, so they promised to meet up after school at the front. The rest of the former Hellfire Club members had distanced themselves from Eddie even after his name was cleared, much to Eddie’s dismay. He hoped that they could at least continue as Corroded Coffin, but with the Satanic Panic still ongoing and the town still thinking that he was a devil worshiper, their parents did not want them to associate with him. Gareth still acknowledged Eddie in the halls, but Frank and Jeff were close to graduating and they didn’t want to mess anything up.

Eddie took his usual spot at the head of the table, Will on his right and Dustin on his left. Mike took his usual spot next to Dustin while El sat across from him next to Will. The older boy let them talk amongst themselves as he sat deep in thought. Usually it was about his campaign, retracing the character arcs of his main NPCs and how they come into play in the main storyline, the types of challenges that the party will face, the mini bosses leading up to the big bad. Now, he was thinking about how Mike kept looking at Will as he spoke and how the latter would look towards him whenever he laughed.

“What do you think, Eddie?” Dustin asked.

Eddie blinked. “Huh?”

Dustin let out an exasperated sigh. “I knew it. Stop daydreaming about Steve –”

“I wasn’t… this time.”

“Gross.”

“Hey, dude, you said it.”

“I know, but, it’s like, you guys are like my big brothers, so…”

“Anyways,” Eddie interrupted, flicking a pretzel at him. “What were you guys talking about?”

“We were talking about how Will could redesign the t-shirt,” Mike said excitedly, “He’s really good. You should see all the drawings he did for our previous campaigns and this poster he painted and –”

“Okay, little Wheeler, cool your jets. I know how good Will is, I’ve seen his character design.” Eddie leaned an elbow on the table and tilted his head to look at Will with wide curious eyes. “Got some ideas already, little Byers?”

“Uh,” Will leaned back, flustered at his sudden undivided attention. “I have some. I can have some drafts down by this weekend, if you want.”

A grin spread across his face, showing off his dimples. “No rush, little Byers. I look forward to seeing it.”

He patted Will’s back affectionately before asking what other movies that El had yet to watch. Will smiled to himself, thinking that maybe the rest of the semester won’t be so bad after all. He could see why his friends praised the older boy so much. Eddie was loud and obnoxious, but he was also kind and affectionate. Dramatic and attentive. Chaotic and intelligent. He’d been through the trenches with the Party and their bond had become stronger than ever. Will hoped that he could build anything remotely close to that kind of bond with Eddie now that he was back.

The rest of the day came and went, Will’s steps feeling lighter as he made his way to the front entrance of the school. Halfway down the hall, he spotted a group of jocks, one of them being an angry Andy looking for someone. He turned his head just as Will came into view and he narrowed his eyes. Will was all too familiar with that look and his feet shifted to run in an instant. So much for the rest of the semester being good.

His feet carried him to the back of the school past the bleachers and towards the forest. He could still hear their heavy footfalls and shouting close behind him. His muscles were already screaming at him to stop, but he wouldn’t. This wasn’t something he could just stop in the middle of the field and shout at it to leave him alone. He needed to pick and choose his battles while he had the luxury of choice.

He collapsed against a tree, sucking in air into his lungs as he tried to steady himself. Will didn’t hear anyone behind him, so he took the time to close his eyes, but couldn’t bring himself to fully relax.

“Little Byers?” Eddie asked calmly. Will’s head whipped around, almost making him dizzy. Eddie held his hands out in surrender before tentatively reaching over to squeeze his shoulder. “You good, Will?”

Will looked around at his surroundings, seeing an old picnic table in a clearing that looked to still be in good condition. Eddie’s backpack was thrown on top with a binder and DnD monster manual wide open. The younger boy blinked his eyes into focus before remembering that he was asked a question.

“I… they were… and I just…” Will shook his head, leaning his shoulder on the tree.

Eddie nodded in understanding. “Sit with me. Those losers don’t dare to venture out here into the woods after what happened, so we’re safe as far as I know. You can tell me all about your character while I write up some things for the campaign.”

Will joined him on the picnic table, having the sense to pull out his walkie and turn it on in case his friends wondered where he was. They fell into a nice flow with Will talking animatedly about his character and Eddie asking him questions every now and then to get a feel of where the character would fit in the world he created for the campaign and what he could add to it.

After a while, Eddie looked up from his writing at Will. “Uh, so I’m going to ask a question and you don’t have to answer this, but… is there something going on between you and Mike?” Eddie asked as gently as he could.

Will sat in shock, his mouth opening and closing like a fish as his cheeks reddened. His body was itching to jump up and run again, but there was something telling him that Eddie was safe. “Is there something going on between you and Steve,” he countered.

Eddie smirked. “Yeah. It’s still new, but it’s been a long time coming. Nancy threatened to send us to Murray if we didn’t get our shit together. Nothing official, since we’re still trying to figure things out. I just wanted to let you know that if you need someone to talk to, someone besides your brother, then I’m here. Though, I would like to add my two cents and say, why Wheeler out of all people?”

“Mike’s my best friend,” Will said, relieved that his suspicions were right about Eddie but also wanting to defend his crush. “He’s always been there for me. Not like there were many guys that I would feel safe to crush on anyways.”

“True. I lucked out with Harrington, though, didn’t I?”

Eddie wrapped up the finishing touches to his worldbuilding notes sooner than Will wanted. He fell into step with him after they packed up their things and headed back to the school. Will stuck close by, eyes scanning the remaining students and every corner warily. From what Dustin and Lucas told him, those jocks could be very persistent when they wanted to.

Jonathan was by the bleachers when they walked back, frowning in concern. His arm reached out before Will got to him, drawing him in as soon as his fingers gained purchase on his shirt. Will sighed into his brother’s shirt, hugging him back. Jonathan nodded over to Eddie to show his gratitude for looking out for him. Eddie waved a dismissive hand, patting his back.

Jonathan pulled away, his hands still on Will’s shoulders. “You okay?”

Will nodded. “I’m good. Just never thought that there were people still hung up about the whole Zombie Boy thing,” he said tiredly.

“They’ve got nothing better to do and they want someone to take their anger and boredom out on,” Jonathan said as they continued to walk. “Someone told on Andy and his friends, so you don’t have to worry about them now.”

Will sighed in relief. “I hope so. Good thing I found Eddie, though.”

“Hey, us freaks gotta stick together,” Eddie piped up. “Besides, Zombie Boy sounds kinda cool if you think about it.” He slung an arm around Will’s shoulders. “Kind of like a superhero or a rock band name. Zombie Boy! Playing at the Hideout at 10 with special guest Corroded Coffin!”

“Well, hearing it in the same sentence of Corroded Coffin, Zombie Boy doesn’t sound that bad,” Will admitted.

“See? You know, I tried recruiting your brother for the band a few years back,” Eddie said, nodding over to his brother who was avoiding Will’s shocked expression.

“Really? You never told me! As what?”

“Drummer,” Jonathan mumbled, “I… I didn’t want to be on stage in front of people. I would take pictures for them, though. They used to use them for their flyers around town.”

“Whoa, you could have been much cooler.” That remark earned Will a playful smack upside his head.

When they reached the parking lot, their friends were already crowded around Jonathan’s car and Eddie’s van, Steve’s BMW parked not too far. Max and El were perched on the hood of Jonathan’s car, watching with amusement as Lucas tried a trick on his new skateboard. Dustin and Mike, having no interest in anything sports related, were pouring over a map and a few open magazines next to them. Steve was leaning against his car, talking to Robin and Nancy who looked to be teasing him about something. Jonathan came over, bumping his hip with Nancy who entwined their fingers without a second thought.

“Hey, Will!” Dustin said, waving him over. “Where do you want to go for the road trip?”

“What road trip?” Will bent over at the map, seeing a few destinations circled and scribbled on.

“Steve’s gonna get an RV for our summer road trip.”

“Did we ever return the one from the trailer park?” Lucas asked, trying to kick the skateboard up but hit his shin instead.

“Yeah. That got sorted out and they were compensated for their troubles,” Max said nonchalantly. “That’s cool of Steve to get a new van for us, though.”

“Hey, hey, whoa. Steve,” Steve stressed, waving a finger at them.

Robin rolled her eyes. “He’s talking about himself in third person again,” she muttered to Nancy who tried to hold back a smile.

“Did not say anything about a van or anything. I simply said that it would be cool if we did something for the summer. You guys volunteered me to do this road trip.”

“So, no road trip?” El asked softly, looking at him with puppy eyes that Max taught her to utilize. As if it’d take much to convince Steve to do anything for them.

Steve deflated instantly, putting his hands on his hips. Eddie snorted, wrapping an arm around his shoulders. “Thanks for letting me drive Stevie,” he said, blinking his doe eyes at him.

“Fine,” he sighed. “We’re going to have a set of rules, though, and if any of your parents say no, then we won’t do it.”

Dustin raised his hand. “Can I try to drive the RV? My mom said that if I start learning on a big vehicle, then I’m able to drive any car.”

“Sure,” Eddie said at the same time as Steve’s firm, “No.”

“We’ll talk about it when the time comes,” Steve said.

“Cool, now that that’s settled, movie night at Steve’s this weekend! We’re watching the Star Wars trilogy, since Supergirl hasn’t seen it yet. Thanks for renting it out for us, big boy.”

Steve shook his head fondly at him, leaning closer with a smirk on his face. “Jokes on you, I bought those tapes already.”

“You're a romantic.”

“I feel like I’m getting used to their sappy display of affection,” Dustin said, packing up the map and magazines and shoving his backpack in Steve’s car. “I gotta go, though. My mom wants to run errands together today.”

“Right, we’ve got things to do,” Jonathan said, ruffling Will’s hair. “We still got that cabin project to work on, then I’m going to help Nancy with something. You kids hanging out over at the Wheelers?”

Everyone except Dustin nodded, splitting between Jonathan’s and Nancy’s cars. Dustin took his spot in Steve’s car and rolled his eyes when Steve and Eddie were taking too long to say bye to each other. Robin left, catching a ride with Vickie and promising to see them tomorrow. Will caught Vickie smiling widely at Robin as she climbed in, her face turning red under her gaze.

Growing up with his small group of misfits, he still felt alone, different, wrong. From disaster after disaster, he had pushed his feelings aside because they weren’t as important as saving the world and his friend’s and his new sister’s happiness. It seemed to be a Byers thing, from what he had seen from his mom and his brother. They just needed to surround themselves with the right people to feel that their wants and feelings mattered. This also meant that he had to let them in as well.

After opening up to his brother and to Eddie, he was gradually feeling comfortable expressing himself more. Gradually, he’ll tell the others, too. Now he knew that this evolved group of misfits and weirdos and freaks would love and accept him no matter what. Like Eddies said, freaks stick together.

#writersmonth2022 #writer's month #stranger things fic #stranger things imagine #will byers centric #hopper byers family #hawkins crew #the hawkins gang #the party #background lumax #background steddie #background jancy #background robin/vickie #pre byler #henderdads #jonathan is a good brother #will byers #jonathan byers

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missarchivistdoodles · 2 years

Text

I have been in a funk.

And not a fun funky funk like Saturday Night Disco, but a regular 'my brain chemicals went on vacation and forgot to contact the temp agency' funk. Most of the past few months have felt like I've been in a fog. My mom had surgery (and is completely cancer free - after she finishes radiation in two weeks, she'll be officially in 'remission'! And her hair is growing back!), I finished my spring semester and signed up for summer classes, and I've been working extra hours at one of the other libraries in our system. I've also started volunteering at our county museum and have been roped into three separate programs that all have to do with archiving, which is great but also takes up a lot of time. It's all been done through a sort of brain fog, which has been killing me creatively. Luckily my doctor and I worked out a plan and I have now started an ADHD medication called Vyvanse! Do you know what Vyvanse does to a brain that has ADHD?

Dopamine.

All. The. Dopamine. (Okay, an average level of dopamine that non-ADHD people experience but still, that's more than what I usually have!)

Holy FUCK does it make a difference! I'm able to think clearly, I'm able to keep tasks at work straight, I'm able to remember to return my library books (which is an amazing feat seeing as how I work at the library). I've been drawing a ton, some of which I plan on uploading in the next little while. I've started non-fanfiction plot bunnies! I've worked on my fanfiction plot bunnies! I feel motivated to work on Warning: Battery Low again! I've actually managed to sit down and read a book - okay, part of a book.

1/3 of a book.

It's still an improvement.

ANYWAY thank you to those who have sent me well wishes, and to those who are still eagerly waiting for the next chapter of Warning: Battery Low - it's still gonna be a bit. Remember how Swatch just kinda burst in and threw off all my plotting? Yeah, still working on fixing that. The next chapter is going to be a bit Crimson-centric as I work on better establishing their past relationship in the mansion. Then there will be good stuff! Then a fire. Then bad stuff. Then past stuff will come into play and someone will get their ass kicked!

Then the phone will ring.

Don't want to wait that long for more of my writing? Check out my other story, House Arrest, on AO3. It's Addison-centric and ponders what would have happened if the Addisons were forced to take Spamton back after their estrangement...

Anyway, thank you for your support as always, lovelies! I'm going to work harder on being more active on Tumblr again, since I love this wild and crazy place so much. Feel free to send me any questions you may have, I'm happy to answer them! Even if it's about the medication, I don't mind talking about it.

(Also figured out last month I'm not ace/aro, I'm just a really, really introverted lesbian, so finding that out after 10 years of being super 'I'm Ace!' has been weirdly stressful but also kind of freeing...? My life is a mess...)

#warning: battery low #update #author talk #listen to me blabber #dopamine

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luna-themoonie · 1 year

Text

Chapter Three

A Raven and a Bat to See the Light in One Another

First - Previous - Next

Summary: It was only meant to be a stupid game of dares, 'The King's Game.' But, of course, nothing could go Stan's way. Cartman thought it would be hilarious to get under everyone's skin with his stupid dare and he did. Now, Stan had no way of getting back with Wendy because he was stuck with this dare.

Butters didn't care too much about the dare in its entirety. Stan was a cool guy and maybe they could get closer. He didn't see anything wrong with this dare from Eric. But, oh boy, if his parents knew, he'd sure be grounded. After this dare ends, he and Stan could still be friends, right?

What was the dare?:

Stan and Butters were forced to date for two months.

~~~

as soon as you both can get together make sure you convince EVERYBODY that you and butters are buttbuddies

holding hands kissing hugging

Then the next two texts were sent a few minutes after that.

shit even fuck around in the bathroom and have someone walk in

if you dick off this dare stan ill make you tegrrt it

*regret

Stan kept on rereading the text messages Cartman had sent him yesterday with a frown. They were specifically directed to him, so he was sure Butters had received something different to make him immediately jump in and come to his house.

He wanted to be more open-minded about the situation like maybe he and Butters can have a better relationship in the end. But thinking about how Cartman wanted them to go above and beyond with holding hands and kissing each other made his stomach churn. It’s not like he didn’t want to do this because Butters was ugly. He wasn’t. He grew up to be a good-looking guy, even Stan could admit that. Though, he’d never say that aloud. All he knew now was that he couldn’t explain why he felt so nerved by this situation.

Maybe it was because he wasn’t as close to Butters as he was to his other friends. He didn’t know much about his family life either, just that his parents were dicks. Stan remembered how he had gone through a mini rebellious phase against his parents at the beginning of high school; dying his hair black, staying out late, even joining his gang to do the crazy shit they always found themselves in. He remembered how he and Kenny supported him that week. After that, Stan didn’t know what happened, Butters came back looking as he did before as if nothing happened. Stan never said anything about it, but deep inside, even now, it bothered him.

He always kept his appearance tidy yet casual now, dressing as if he was going to church every day. It was usually a sweater with a white-button up underneath. Stan would always wonder how Butters wasn’t freezing his ass off half the time. Maybe he could give him a new sweater or a jacket as an apology. Though, he wasn’t sure if that was going to fix anything.

“Stan? Stanley, did you hear what I said?”

He looked up at his mom, who was now staring at him from her spot in front of the refrigerator. He didn’t realize that she was talking to him at all. “Huh?”

“Your father has been complaining to me about you not talking to him. Can you try giving him a call?”

Stan shrugged. “I don’t really want to.”

“Why not?”

He shrugged again. “Dunno.”

She sighed, but dropped it, leaving him alone to stare back down at his phone and stab at the eggs he made.

He stood up from his seat after a moment and poured the rest of his eggs into Sparky’s bowl. He gently stroked his head as he began to eat them before leaving the kitchen.

He walked over to the couch and sat himself down next to his bag and his guitar case. He began to scroll through his phone to pass the time, liking some of his friends’ posts as he did so. Stan paused when he saw a picture of Wendy smiling with her parents. They were all seated at their dining table with their plates of breakfast, smiling at the camera. Mom surprised us with breakfast! Love you, mom!

He took another second to stare at the picture. She seemed so happy, but… was she? He wanted to know how she was fairing after their breakup, but he wasn’t sure if he should. His thumb hovered over her icon for a long moment before slowly pressing on her name to go to her account. He knew that this was a decision that he was going to wish he didn’t do, but it also satiated him for the moment. He scrolled through the pictures on her page taking note of how none of them shared any hint that she was distressed. Of course, there wouldn’t. Why would she want to share that with the world?

Even when he found out his answer, he continued to scroll through her page. After a bit, he began to notice that one factor was missing from her account; him. All the pictures of him and Wendy were gone and he felt his heart sink. She really didn’t want to get back with him. She actually meant it this time. He clenched his jaw and clicked off her account before he had gotten himself upset. He clicked on Clyde’s profile and began to scroll through his. It was still packed with pictures he had taken from the party. That made his mind wander to the dare, and the dare made him think about Butters.

His eyes wandered from the bright screen to the hand that he was using to scroll with. He thought back to yesterday and how he had held hands with Butters. He remembered how warm his hand felt in his own and he felt flushed at the memory, though he didn’t really know why he did. He’s held hands with others before, both girls and guys, but why was it so different now? He wondered if he should get his gloves to wear for the day and after a moment of consideration, he placed down his phone and decided to run back up to his room to grab them.

He made his way back down the stairs, pulling on his red gloves. He moved to pick up his phone from the couch to check the time. It was 8:03. A good time to head out. He shoved his phone in his pocket and picked up his bags and adjusted them in his hands, heading towards the front door. “Mom, I’m heading out!”

He opened the front door just in time to see Butters standing there with his hand reaching towards the doorbell. “Oh!” He retracted his hand and clutched the straps of his bag. “Good morning, Stan!”

Stan pressed his lips together in a thin line. “Butters, you’re here...” Again…

He nodded with a smile. “Sure am!” His smile fell. “Oh, I’m sorry. Did you want me to stop?”

“Nah, it’s fine. Just…” He thought over his words carefully. “I can pick you up at your house. You don’t need to keep showing up so early.”

He noticed a look of worry show on his face for a second before vanishing, but he didn’t point it out. “Okay, I can do that.”

“Cool.” He closed the door behind him and made sure to lock it. He motioned Butters towards his car as he made his way to his own side. He placed his belongings inside and settled himself in the driver’s seat. He turned on the car and waited for Butters to finish with the click of his seatbelt before starting to drive.

Just like the day before, the ride was silent aside from the CD Stan had playing, though it wasn’t as loud as he usually played it. Stan tried focusing on the drive to the school, but he was hyper-aware of his passenger. He tried ignoring him and trying to listen to the words of the song, but Butters made it difficult to do when he was humming along to it. Stan sighed and moved to turn down the radio. “Butters?”

The blonde perked up at his nickname and looked at Stan with a bright glint in his eyes. “Yeah, Stan?”

As he drove, Stan gave small glances at him. “Are you okay with this?”

“With what?”

“With pretending to date me and whatever Cartman is going to have us do. It doesn't bother you?”

“Course not, Stan.”

He gave him a side glance. “Why?”

“Well, because you’re a swell guy.” Stan gave him a look that asked ‘really?’ “Besides, we’re friends, right? Just think of it as being a little more close to your friend.”

Stan took a moment to think about what he said. “Is that how you think about it?”

Butters looked down at his lap and began to trace his knuckles. “Yeah.” There was a moment of silence from him. “Stan, I know that I might’ve crossed the line yesterday. If you’re not okay with somethin’ I do, you can tell me. I will stop, you know.”

“I’m not okay with any of this.” He saw Butters flinch at those words, so he added, “But thanks. I’ll keep that in mind.”

They were both silent for a moment. Stan moved to turn the song back up, but not before hearing Butters quickly telling him, “If it makes you feel any better, there’s nobody else I’d rather do this dare with but you.”

Stan felt like throwing up after hearing that, but he didn’t voice his feelings. Butters definitely had a way to make you feel bad and cut deeper with just his words. He didn’t feel the same, but he felt bad for having those feelings. It felt so nice hearing that, but he felt like he didn’t deserve it. They both left each other alone, leaving the car to go back into its silence.

Stan soon pulled into the parking lot of their school and found the same spot from yesterday. He turned off the car before moving to gather his things to get out. He pushed the door open and got himself out, adjusted his bag onto his shoulders, and held his case in his left hand, watching as Butters did the same. He made sure to lock his doors before they both started to walk towards the entrance of the school.

As they walked towards the school to get out of the cold, Stan’s mind wandered back to the situation that happened around the same time. He took a glance at Butters to see him breathing into his cupped hands before rubbing them together and letting them fall back to his side. Stan bit his lip as he hesitated before deciding to slip his gloved hand into Butters’. He told himself earlier that he wasn’t going to do this, hence the gloves, but he couldn’t help himself. He continued to look forward as they walked, but he still saw Butters look up at him with a large smile from the corner of his eye. He tried to focus on making his way inside, but he still couldn’t help the embarrassment he still felt run through him as he seemed to only think about the hand in his own.

Stan didn’t know how long they stayed hand in hand, but they reached their lockers in a short matter of time. Butters let go of his hand and kneeled down to reach his locker while Stan went to his own, swiftly unlocking it. He placed down the case next to himself and emptied his bag from his books from yesterday to begin replacing them with the ones he knew he needed for today. It wasn’t much so he was able to finish up quickly.

Stan closed his locker and turned to see if Butters was still there. Butters had his eyebrows furrowed as he was trying to fold up a set of clothes and try to shove it into his bag. Stan moved closer to him to wait for him to finish. He leaned against one of the nearby lockers and watched Butters from where he stood.

He was adjusting the books and his clothing of the day in his bag before zipping it closed and swinging it onto his shoulder. He stood up and pushed his locker closed with his foot before turning to Stan. He visibly swallowed at the sudden eye contact with ravenette. “Uh, I’ll see you.” He lowered his head and moved to walk around him.

Stan clenched his jaw. He didn’t know what came over him at that moment, but he quickly grabbed Butters’ arm to stop him from walking any further. “Huh? What’s wrong-” Butters stopped his question when he felt Stan placed his free hand on his shoulder as he placed a chaste kiss on his forehead. He opened his mouth to say something, but nothing would come out.

“See you.” He felt his thumb caress his left shoulder slightly before he finally removed himself. He watched Stan turn around and walk down the hall to his own class, but Butters' whole body felt like lead. He couldn’t move. He slowly brought his hand up to his forehead, gently grazing the spot where Stan had kissed just a second ago with the tips of his fingers.

“Hey, Butters, you alright?” He turned to see Nichole standing with Annie Knitts.

“Huh?” He noticed that he was still touching his forehead and he quickly dropped it to grip the strap of his bag. “Oh, y-yeah. I’m fine, I’m great!” He smiled at her, but this only earned a look of suspicion from her.

“Okay… Well, we gotta go. The bell is gonna ring in a few minutes.”

“Right, right. Class.” His hands tighten around his bag strap. “Yeah, let’s go.” He began to walk with the two girls to their AP English class. As soon as they stepped into the class, the bell had rung and Butters quickly sat himself down and took out his notebook for the class and the discussions they had. The teacher had begun to speak, but he couldn’t focus on the words she was saying.

Butters was distracted throughout the entirety of his class. He just kept on going back to Stan. He was definitely nicer than he was yesterday and Butters really did appreciate that. He knew that Stan was trying to get by this situation the best way he can. He knew he was a bit too excited and he needed to dial it back for the time being. But if Stan was starting to go along with everything now, he didn’t know how much he could take. Every now and again, he would gently touch the spot on his forehead as the thought of Stan would pop back into his mind. He tried participating in the class discussion, but his mind was all muddled. He would mumble a made-up response whenever the teacher would call on him and hoped that she would just nod and move on, but she would constantly ask for him to speak up. Luckily, he was seated next to Nichole who would tell her the correct answer with a ‘he said…’

When the class ended, he gave a sigh of relief. He quickly packed up his things and left the classroom. He waited for Nichole across the classroom door to thank her. When she walked out he walked up to her immediately. “Nichole, I wanted to thank you.”

She smiled at him. “No problem.” They began walking together through the hall. “Are you sure you’re okay? You were really out of it.”

“Yeah, I’m just a bit distracted today.”

“Is that it?” He nodded. “Okay, I’ll believe you. But if there's something actually wrong, just know you can talk to me. I’m sure Tolkien is always open to talk too if it’s a ‘guy thing’ or something like that.”

“Aw, well, that’s mighty sweet of you. Thank you.” The door to his next class, Calculus, came into view. They both came to a stop and Butters gave her a quick hug. “I’ll see you around,” he told her before going inside the classroom, giving her a small wave.

He took a peek at the board, where the teacher of the class typically wrote down what they needed to work on for the day, as he grabbed a calculator and the class book. He sat in his designated seat, pulled out a few sheets of paper, and began to work on the assigned questions. He took his time working through the problems, circling the answers on each question he wrote down. He usually liked to keep to himself in this class. He considered himself pretty good at Calculus, but any distraction could easily mess him up.

“I heard what happened yesterday with Stan.” Speaking of distractions. He finished writing down the answer to the problem he was working on and looked up to see Wendy.

“Oh, didja?”

She nodded before pulling herself a chair to sit across from Butters. “Yeah. How are you taking this?”

He tried to focus on his work. He never exactly liked Wendy. She was a bit too needy for attention and self-centered for his taste. He forced a smile for her. “I’m fine. I know Stan is a bit uncomfortable with everything, but I think we’ll get by.”

“I don’t know about that,” she drawled. “I don’t really think you two will last with Stan’s behavior and all.” Why ask if it didn’t matter what he said? Fucking bitch. “Stan is a really honest person. Usually says what he means, you know.”

“Wow,” Butters was just trying to entertain her now, “you must really know Stan, huh?”

The smile she gave him was a proud one. “I sure do. I guess that’s what seven years does.”

Yeah, seven on-and-off years. He hummed in thought. “Oh, then I wonder what two months will do. I think we’ll get closer.”

She raised one of her eyebrows and made a face, basically asking him, ‘are you sure about that?’ “Well, I’ll wish you luck. Stan is a very difficult person; hard to manage.”

Stan isn’t a fucking dog. Butters held his tongue about his thoughts for the moment. “Thank you, Wendy. I’ll keep that in mind.”

“You’re welcome!” Wendy stood up to finally leave him alone. “Okay, well, I’ll let you finish your work.” She placed the chair back. “Oh, number twenty is wrong, by the way,” she told him before walking back to her desk.

Butters was glaring at the problem. Shit, she was right.

-----

Butters was starting to get aggravated now. Throughout the entirety of his class, Wendy kept on coming up to him to start up a random conversation; each one about Stan. It was like she was trying to prove to him that she was a better fit for this dare. If she was so worried, why talk to Butters about it? He was sure if she mentioned it to Stan, he definitely wouldn’t hesitate on taking her back, just like every other time.

By the time the bell had rung for them to leave, Butters wasn’t finished with his work and he wanted to scream at her. She tried to talk to him once more when he was putting the calculator and book away, but he briskly walked by to his desk to grab his bag. He tried avoiding her as he walked to the teacher to ask if he could finish the work at home. After getting the ‘okay’ he ran out of the classroom and tried to get away from Wendy as fast as he could.

“Butters, w-wait up.”

Hearing the familiar stutter, Butters slowed down his pace for his friend to catch up. “Oh, hi, Jimmy.”

“Are you okay? You looked r-really upset.”

Butters sighed. “Wendy was just really annoying me.”

“You looked- y-you loo- It seemed like you were going to p-punch her in the face. I’m surprised she didn’t no-n-notice.”

“She has her head so far up her ass to notice. I swear she rivals Eric.”

Jimmy laughed at this. “Do-don’t let her hear that.” Butters giggled along with him. He stopped by a door and gave a nod to Butters. “This is my stop. See ya.”

“Yeah, see ya.” Butters continued to his own class, which was now Spanish. When he reached the class, he found a seat in the room and waited to see what would make his day sink further.

-----

His Spanish class wasn’t as bad as he expected, especially when he shared it with Eric Cartman. He was surprised to find him leaving him alone throughout the entirety of the lesson. He chose not to ask him why. He didn’t want to suddenly make everything ten times worse.

Though, when he went to his Auto Repair Workshop class, the last person he’d expect had made his entire day worse than it should be:

Butters, currently in the boys’ locker room, was changing out of his clothes of the day and dressing into something both comfy and that he didn’t mind getting dirty; a ‘wife-beater’ and a pair of old sweats. Once he finished, he folded his clothes and shoved them into his bag for the time being and left the locker room.

He was one of the first people to reach their assigned school’s garage for his class. It was large enough to fit eight cars in, therefore his class was small. He placed his bag down at the front before going to his teacher’s desk to grab his notebook and the key for his assigned car. He placed the notebook and key down on his rolling stool and popped open the hood of the car.

Butters began to overlook the car to refresh himself on what he already worked on. He wrote down a quick report on the vehicle and its status before doing a mental checklist of the tools he knew he needed and started to get to work on his final project for the class.

As he worked on the car, the other students slowly made their way in to join him on working on their own projects. Craig was the first of his friends to come in, settling to work on the car on his right. Then, it was Kenny, focusing on his own car on his left.

After a while, he heard someone speak up. “So, Butters?” He looked towards Kenny at the call of his name.

“Yeah, Ken?”

“You weren’t on the bus yesterday,” he reached over to grab his rag to wipe his hands, “or this morning. What happened?”

“Oh.” He turned back to his work. “Stan’s been giving me a ride.”

“Stan?”

“Yeah, Stan.”

“Why?”

He glanced over at Kenny to see his eyebrows furrowed. “Well, what do you mean ‘why?’”

“Why is Stan giving you a ride to school?”

Butters shrugged. “I came over and he let me come with him.”

“Let me take you home instead. I don’t want you going with Stan.”

“You don’t want me going with Stan,” he repeated with a frown.

“No. He isn’t even treating you right. I’m not going to have him say some shit to you that-”

“Aren’t you supposed to be worrying about how you’re going to take Tweek home?” He saw Craig perk up from behind the hood of the car he was working on at the mention of the blonde’s name.

“You can come with us.”

Butters huffed. “Why?”

“What do you mean ‘why?’ I just told you that I don’t want you going-”

“Yeah, yeah, you don’t want me going with him. What do you want me to do? Ride the bus with you? Stan could’ve said ‘no’ and left me, but he didn’t.”

“So, what if he didn’t? It doesn’t change the fact that he’s a dick that has quickly lost my trust.”

Butters rolled his eyes at his choice of words. Over the years, he’s come to learn that Kenny is always one to overreact. Butters turned to Craig who was watching them, lazily tinkering with the engine on his assigned car. “Would you do this if Tweek was with Stan?”

He shrugged. “Yeah.”

“Are you kidding me?”

“No. If Stan had said those things to him, he’d probably tweak out. No pun intended.”

“See?” Butters turned back to glare at Kenny. “I’m not the only one who’d worry.”

“Just because he shares the same selfish views as you, doesn’t make it right,” he told him, earning a ‘hey!’ from Craig.

Kenny narrowed his eyes. “Well, technically, it’s two versus one. So, I’m taking you home.”

“You aren’t my father.”

“Might as well be. Yours doesn’t even do that right.”

Butters clenched his fists when he heard Kenny say that. “Oh, really?” Butters could admit that it hurt hearing that coming from him.

“Yes. Butters, you can’t handle Stan like I can. He’s going to end up saying something stupid to you and it’ll hurt you because you’re weaker.”

Butters felt his face become warm at those words. “I am not weak!” his voice cracked as he walked over to Kenny. “I can take care of myself. You don’t need to protect me. I can handle Stan.” He snatched the wrench away from Kenny to use for himself.

“I didn’t mean- I’m just trying to look out for you.”

He snapped his head towards him. “Well, it’s annoying knowing that you think I can’t do anything!”

“Boys!” Butters jumped at the loud voice and looked at their teacher who was watching them with a frown. “Focus on your own cars or you will hurt yourselves. You can fight with each other outside of this classroom.”

“Yes, sir,” Butters mumbled. He turned back to his car and continued to work on it.

Luckily, Kenny had left him alone for the rest of their class. He was still upset at him, and at Craig for agreeing with him. He didn’t understand their worry to force someone to do what they want. He knew he could do things for himself, he knew Tweek was strong enough to do things for himself too. He wondered what Tweek would think if he knew the conversation they had and whether he would side along with him or with his boyfriend.

The final bell rang for the day and Butters sighed in relief. He grabbed his rag and began to wipe his hands, looking over everything he knew he needed to work on for next time. He began to write down his final report of the day so he kept track of his progress.

He felt someone place their hands on his shoulder. “Wait for me after showers.” The hand left him and Butters continued to stare down at the notebook he was writing in. He looked towards the door just in time to see Kenny leave the school’s garage and into the school, chatting to one of their classmates.

Butters felt himself start to become upset and he knew he needed to leave. He briskly stood up, throwing his rag on the toolbox he had to share with Kenny, and reached up to close the hood of the car. He moved to the front of the room and grabbed his bag. He placed his notebook on his teacher's desk, nodding at him. “Have a good day, sir,” he told his teacher before quickly running across the room and leaving the garage through the door that led outside.

He immediately regretted his decision when he was hit with a blast of cold air. It was worse when he was drenched in sweat after being in such a warm room for so long. He slung his bag over his shoulder and began to run towards the football field where he knew Stan had parked his car. He crossed his arms over his chest and held onto his biceps in hopes that he could keep some of his warmth. He saw the car come into view and not far away was the familiar teen wearing his red poof ball hat. He began to sprint towards the two and waving his arms. “Stan!”

He looked towards him and he saw his eyes widened. “Butters?” He saw him jog towards his car, unlocking it and quickly placing his bags inside. The engine revved on as Butters reached the car and he pulled open the door and hopped inside, placing his bag near his feet. He sighed in relief as the heater was already put on blast and was hitting his exposed skin nicely. He let his head hit the seat and he tried to catch his breath.

“Dude, what the fuck? What are you wearing? It’s freezing.”

He turned to look at Stan. His eyes were wide and he was looking down towards Butters’ torso. He looked down at the thin undershirt he wore for the class. He looked back at Stan. “I’m sorry. It’s what I wear for Auto Repair. I can take it off if you're worried that it’s gonna get your car dirty.”

“No!” Stan pinched the bridge of his nose for a moment before moving to clutch the steering wheel with both his hands. “No, it’s fine.”

“Okay.” He clicked on the seatbelt and leaned back again. He took a peek at Stan and noticed that he seemed to be a bit uncomfortable. He thought over an excuse in his mind. “I’m sorry, I usually change, but I was worried that you would leave without me.”

He saw his eyebrows twitch up in surprise and he turned to look at him. “What? Dude, no. I’m not gonna leave you behind. Unless you tell me to or something.”

Butters’ eyes widened slightly. “Really?”

“Yeah, man. I was actually just going to wait out here and send you a text. Then, I saw you and…” He drifted off. He noticed that his eyes shifted down to look at his torso again.

He looked towards the clock and checked the time, noticing that Kenny would be done with his shower at this time. He glanced over to the school, hoping that he wasn’t looking for him.

“Dude, aren’t you cold?”

He shrugged. “I’ll be fine.”

He heard rustling and small jingles coming from Stan and he turned to look at him just in time to see his signature brown coat being shoved in his face. “Here.”

He took a peek at Stan and saw that he was trying to avoid looking at him. “Aw, gee, Stan. You don’t gotta do that. Then, you’ll be cold.”

“It’s fine.” He dropped the coat onto his lap. “Just put it on.”

Butters smiled. He had his sweater in his bag that he was planning on getting, but he wasn’t going to pass this chance. He quickly pulled on the coat and almost melted at the warmth that it still held from Stan. “Thank you.”

Stan clicked on his seatbelt and prepared to leave the parking lot, mumbling, “You’re welcome.” He began to drive and Butters took this time to look out of the window.

He was watching everything pass by them. He was trying to clear his mind of everything that happened with the white snow and the flashes of people who were walking. He crossed his arms and carefully leant his head against the window, flinching at its coldness. He closed his eyes, suddenly feeling overwhelmed with fatigue.

“Hey,” he heard Stan start, “you okay?”

He sighed. “No.”

There was a moment of silence. “Do you want to talk about it?”

He shook his head. “No.” Another silence. “I just had a bit of a rough day.” And he still had his parents to deal with. “I’ll get over it.”

“Oh. Okay.” He opened his eyes and noticed that Stan had begun to pull into a driveway. He looked towards the house and noticed that it wasn’t his own. He probably pulled in front of his own house. “If you, uh…” He looked over at Stan. “If you ever need someone to talk to or to just listen, I don’t mind doing that. I mean, we’re going to be stuck together, so might as well.” Stan noticeably tensed and his eyes widened. The expression on his face made Butters bite back a laugh. “Fuck, wait, that’s not what I meant.”

He laughed lightly. “Thank you. That does make me feel a little better.”

Stan relaxed. “Sure, dude. Whatever you need, you’re my friend.”

Butters smiled fondly at him. He suddenly felt overwhelmed with mixed emotions and he couldn’t help a question from forming at his lips. “Can I…” He quickly stopped himself. He was sure Stan wouldn’t want to.

“What?”

“It’s nothing.” He leaned forward and grabbed his bag. “I’ll see you tomorrow.” He gripped the handle to open the door.

“Butters, what do you want?”

He squeezed the handle. If Stan reacted badly, he could just pull and run. His house wasn’t that far, just a few houses down. He sighed before saying in a soft voice, “Can I hug you?” He was staring hard at his shoes, anticipating his response.

“A hug? Dude, is that it?” He nodded. He heard the driver door open and he snapped his head up to see Stan getting out of the car and Butters immediately felt dread fill his body. Whether Stan had just left the situation or he only got out to make Butters feel worse in a more physical way, it left him heartbroken.

The door on his side opened and Butters looked up at Stan with wide eyes. He awkwardly got out and was ready to bolt down the sidewalk. He looked at Stan and was surprised when he lifted his arms and held them open. Butters stared at him for a moment and was sure that this was a trick of some kind. Stan only gestured for him to come forward with his arms.

With a growing smile, he dropped his bag to the ground and immediately wrapped his arms around his torso, placing his hands on the back of his shoulders. Butters was only a few inches shorter than Stan, but it was enough to place his head in the right spot - the crook of his neck. He took in a deep breath, noting how Stan smelled of whatever cologne he was wearing and a hint of something Butters couldn’t pinpoint. The hug was nice and comfortable, though he could feel that Stan was tense, he still appreciated that he allowed him to do this. He pulled back a bit and looked up at Stan for a moment, relishing in the moment until it ended.

Stan moved slightly and was now looking back at him and he felt himself become embarrassed at the closeness. He was sure he had been staring at him for a little too long, but he wanted to use this opportunity to take in all of his features. His favorite feature was his eyes. They were a clear shade of a blueish grey, but that wasn’t what drew him to them. It was how much emotion he showed through them, whether it was passion, happiness, or sadness. He had dark circles under his eyes now, and Butters felt saddened at this. He knew that Stan had his days where he had trouble sleeping and he wished that he could help in any way. He was trying to look into his eyes to find what he could see right now, but it was a bit difficult looking into both with only one eye and being at such a close range. Stan had gotten really handsome over the years. Even with the fact that his appearance was the last thing he had thought about when going anywhere didn’t change that. He even had stubble growing at the moment, but his face was usually clean-shaven. He always considered Wendy to be very lucky to be with Stan. He always wondered why she broke up with him, what Stan had even seen in her.

If he was given the chance to kiss the ravenette, truly kiss him, at least once in his lifetime, Butters would definitely take it. He swallowed and tried to get rid of those thoughts for the moment as he smiled up at him. “Thank you, Stan. I really needed this.” He noticed that Stan’s body temperature was becoming very warm and he had to hold himself back from reaching up to touch his face to see if Stan was coming down with a fever.

As quick as the hug started, it ended just as fast with Stan harshly pushing him away. Butters didn’t have a chance to ask him what was wrong because Stan practically sprinted to his front door telling him that he’d see him tomorrow.

Butters looked at the door that Stan disappeared behind. “Oh… Okay, see you tomorrow,” he mumbled to himself, knowing that Stan wouldn’t hear him either way. He picked up his bag before walking towards his own house.

He groaned aloud when he saw the two cars of his parents in the driveway. They were both home early. He walked up to his doorstep and pulled his keys out from his bag before unlocking the door. With a sigh, he opened the door and walked in. “Mom, dad, I’m home.”

A response was immediate. “Butters, do you know what time it is?” His father exclaimed.

“I think it’s almost four-thirty, sir.”

“Yes! Where were you? I know you leave early on both days so you should be home at two. Two thirty at the latest. Look at your mother, she’s worried sick.”

Butters took a glance at his mother in the kitchen, not particularly upset at his 'lateness.' He didn’t dare point this out. “I’m sorry, sir. I’ve been getting a ride from one of my friends, but he can’t leave early because he has full classes. I have to wait until he’s done to get back. I’m not foolin’ around; honest.” He tried explaining to him. Then he remembered that his early days only took place on every other day. “Oh, but today I had my four classes, so I would be coming home around this time anyway.”

“Are you talking back to me?”

“No! No, sir, I’m not. It’s just my schedule’s always been that way.”

“Give me your phone and go to your room.”

“But-”

“Now!”

Butters looked defeated. “Yes, sir.” He pulled his phone out from his bag and placed it in his father’s outstretched hand. He went to the kitchen and placed a light kiss on his mother’s cheek with a, “Hi, mom.” He quickly made his way out of the kitchen and up the stairs before his father could begin yelling at him again.

When he reached his room, he placed his belongings on his desk chair. He took off his coat, deciding to take a shower before starting to work on his homework. He grabbed his clothes and went to the bathroom, hoping he wouldn’t get into even more trouble by doing so.

-----

After cleaning himself up and getting himself comfortable in his pajamas, he began to continue his work from his Calculus class. Luckily, he wrote down the questions beforehand so he wouldn’t have to rely on his phone if he had taken a picture instead.

“Butters! Dinner is ready!” He heard his mother call.

He stood from his desk to go join his parents at the table, but stopped when he heard his father say loudly for him to hear, “No! If he wants to lie and think it’s necessary to goof around, he gets no dinner!”

He sighed and sat himself back at his desk. He shouldn’t let this bother him as much as it did. He should be used to it, but no matter how many times his father would take something away, especially his dinner, it hurt his chest. His parents were supposed to love and care for him, but they’ve never done that. They usually blame him for things he knew he didn’t do, and Butters usually went along with them. As much as he knew that deep down, they didn’t truly love him, he still loved them. They were his parents. He needed to.

After finishing his Calculus work, he took a glance around his room to find something to entertain himself until he could fall asleep. He could go on his computer, but he didn’t feel like looking through any messages he had gotten, whether it came from his phone, which he had connected it to, or from Coonstagram. It was also risky if his father suddenly walked in.

Maybe he could read a book, he hasn’t done that in a while. He looked towards his dresser and saw a couple of books settled at the top of it. He stood up from his desk and over to the small pile of books he had. He picked up a random book, making sure it wasn’t a workbook of some sort and walked over to his bed to make himself comfortable.

He adjusted his blanket and went to sit down, but noticed something on it. He picked it up in his free hand and immediately recognized the item. It was Stan’s coat. He completely forgot that he was wearing it. He considered asking if he could return it to him, but he highly doubted that his parents would let him at the moment.

He bit his lip and placed down the book he was planning to read on his bedside table. He looked around his room as if he was surrounded by peering eyes before hesitantly lifting the coat to his nose and taking in a breath. It still smelled like him. He slipped on the coat and sighed. It was like Stan was hugging him again.

He crawled under his covers and curled up into his bed, watching the sun slowly setting itself. He felt tears prick at his eyes and he tried to blink them away. He was really glad Stan hugged him earlier. He's been needing one for a long time and God knows it wouldn't come from his parents. Though, he did wish that it had lasted longer. Stan was warm… He wrapped his arms around himself and tried to press himself into his pillow, pretending that he was actually being held by Stan once again. He closed his eyes and tried to force himself asleep, but it proved difficult when he felt tears begin to slowly fall. He covered his mouth, so he wouldn’t give his parents any clue about his crying, and he gave a silent sob.

He was so warm.

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write-feel-live-love · 1 month

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Welcome to the Happiness Project

So I don't know if you're familiar with Gretchen Rubin, but she has this thing called the Happiness Project. She also has a great podcast called Happier. I highly recommend it.

Anyway, if you want to learn more about her, go for it. I'm writing about my own Happiness Project, based off of hers. The gist of it is that you need to pick a theme per month (some aspect of self-improvement) and then pick mini goals to achieve that lead you closer to that theme.

So here's my first entry:

Month #1: Heal

I learned in therapy recently that I have been depressed for 6 years. Yes, this was news to me. I'm apparently really good at denial. Like.. Pro Level. Even more recently I discovered I've been depressed since I was 12. Again, Pro Level of denial.

I've always been someone to take my labels seriously and when I heard this news, I spiraled for a hot minute. I didn't know how to adjust this new label into my current life: Mother. Wife. Teacher. Where does Pro Level Depression Denier fall?

So I decided maybe it was time to step back and heal. Before I get too deep, you need to know one thing. It's been almost a year since I had my second child and post-partum depression/ anxiety has kicked my ass.

Goal #1: Start a new vitamin to combat the hair loss that my beautiful baby caused. Surprisingly, this one might actually be working. I showered tonight and not nearly as much hair fell out of my head as usual. Still could have been a wig for a small doll, but we're getting there!

Goal #2: Do a session of yoga or walk on the treadmill for 15 minutes every night. This one has also gone surprisingly well. I've only missed one might when depression hit a little harder than normal. But with the support of my fantastic husband, we got back on track the next night. Again, I started this project mid-way through March so this might not actually be THAT impressive, BUT I have 2 children under the age of 5. I think it's a pretty fucking great start.

Goal #3: Continue to work on banishing oil. I'm working my way into a new religious path. Part of which values protection. Right now, I'm working on banishing negativity from my life. Hence, banishing oil. Currently basking in the moon light charging up so I can actually use it in a ritual this week. (P.S.- No judgment please, I'm not here for it.)

Goal #4: Make Spring Break plans! I'm a teacher. I'm a burnt out teacher. Who has two small children I still have to watch over Spring Break because I created them and am responsible for them. Hence, we need to get the fuck out of the house next week or I'm going to go fucking crazy.

Goal #5: Identify the Top 3 things bugging the crap out of me at work (bonus if you can make a plan to work on them). I'll be honest here. I haven't gotten to this one yet. Work is hard right now. State testing is upon us, the kids know Spring Break is coming. Every one is burnt out and checked out. I still have a week left of March. I got time!

Goal #6: Make a list of the things that make me feel sexy. My sex life is in the trash. Post-partum and regular depression have taken my will to bone. I used to be a machine. So, to combat this, I need to find what makes me feel sexy again. So far, and pathetically, clothes have been it. Until I thought about it, and realized that somehow dancing also works. I need to give this some more thought, but yeah. We're getting there.

Last Minute Goal #7: 24 for 24. Also stolen from Gretchen Rubin. As indicated by the disclaimer. This one is last minute. So I don't have an update for this yet. It's coming.

So yeah. If you've read this, thanks. If not, it's all good. This is more for me than for anybody else anyway. I've been told that if you want to be a writer, write. I used to write all the time to express my thoughts and learn how I really feel. (Kind of informs the name of this blog, which I'll explain some day.) So here I am. Writing to figure out who this new person is, if the old me is in here somewhere, and how those two people are going to get along for the rest of my life.

#self care #self improvement #self awareness #happiness project #happiness #depression #coping #goals

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hotwings0203 · 3 years

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I feel like Dabi would be the type of dude who would bully you incessantly at the LOV and for the life of you you can’t figure out why. He’s always around you and making snarky comments or pulling your hair, trying to catch you messing up on missions. You’re sure he hates you, and you do well to stay out of his way, or sometimes when you feel bold you’ll offer a quip of your own. The bullying increases whenever you talk to other guys at the bar, especially when you make Tomura crack a smile, Dabi’s breathing down your neck the second your leader leaves, calling you terrible names and pushing past your boundaries.

Cw: language, nsfw, noncon, manga spoilers, some angst?

In a perfect world, Touya would not have been abandoned and rejected by his family. In a perfect world, Dabi would not exist, and Touya would be eating dinner with his family right now as he shows his little brother how to properly wield fire to its fullest extent.

But there was no such thing as a perfect world, and therefore Dabi did exist. And Dabi doesn’t care for anyone, or anything.

Or so he tells himself.

“Slut”

“Nothing but eye candy, and shitty eye candy at that”

It’s nothing you haven’t heard before, but it doesn’t make it any easier to ignore him

“What was that all about, huh? The fuck are you and crusty snickering about?”

Fed up with his continuous antics, you decide to mouth off a little too.

“Oh nothing, just talking about how adorable you and Hawks would make as a couple. And wipe that sneer off your face, it looks like some of your staples fell out of your mouth.”

It’s nothing too snarky, but in a second he’s shoving you in some dark room, forearm pinned against your throat as his hand is lit up with blue flames merely inches away from you, snarling in your face.

“You wanna be funny, bitch? I got jokes of my own too, why dont I show you what happens to dumb little girls who don’t know their fucking place? I think that would be real funny.”

But his hand is stopped from drawing near your wide eyes when you both hear Twice and Toga calling everyone for their next meeting.

He pushes you away from him, giving you a murderous look over his shoulder as he leaves the room, not paying mind to the way you slide down the wall in the dark.

You take extra precaution to try avoiding him for the next few days, not even making eye contact with him when you two get teamed up for tasks. He never mentions the room incident, if anything he acts as if it never happens. It’s like whiplash for you, he tries to weirdly talk to you more but all you offer him is mumbles and hums of agreement.

The conversation is never long, but it starts to be less talk of degrading you and more of begrudging questioning of what you’ve been up to. You never engage, opting to pretend like you never heard him, and strangely enough he leaves it be.

You give him a side eye one day as he joins you at the bar (much to your discontent), downing your glass just to fill another.

He says nothing as he slides into the stool right next to you, and pours a glass of whiskey for himself as well.

It’s awkwardly silent, you’re not sure if you should leave or not, but you’d be damned if you try to initiate small talk with this psycho.

But then, he speaks.

“Is Shigaraki sending you on the mission to get that UA kid?”

His gravely voice rumbles and cracks from his usual lack of use, and he clears his throat after he talks.

“No.”

“Oh.”

This is excruciating, you think to yourself as he mulls over the drink in his hand for a silent minute or two.

Toga calls you over thankfully at the exact same moment, and you breathe out an inaudible sigh of relief as you slip off the stool to join her.

“Wait-“ Dabi grabs your arm and you flinch out of instinct, expecting a slap or a burn to come from him.

He sees your reaction and shakes his head dismissively, letting you go and muttering a “Nevermind”. You don’t ponder over it as you trip over your own feet to join the eccentric blond.

A week passes, and then two. With each day you maneuver your way around him, request to be partnered up with different people in private, and busy yourself in random tasks. Every time you pass him by the bar he lifts his head from whatever he’s doing and tries to maintain eye contact with you, even going so far as to open his mouth to say or ask god-knows-what.

You try to ignore the foreign hopeful glint in his glacial eyes as you walk right past him, ducking your head as you do so.

It drives Dabi crazy.

He can’t handle any more rejection, he thought his family would be the last straw for him to ever want recognition or love validation from again. He wants to talk to you, to hear your voice as it snaps back with witty comebacks of your own that he secretly enjoys so much, even if it means he has to force it out of you with hateful words. He wants to feel your hair underneath his scarred hands, even if he has to mask the soft wanting of you in forms of yanking the strands. He wants nothing more than to see your eyes fill up with no other sight than him and think only of him, even if it means he has to corner you and scare you into submission.

But your silence is something he’s not used to.

Well, to be fair, you weren’t silent completely, but the only sentences he was hearing from you nowadays was when you were speaking to Shigaraki or the other League members.

You were the only idiot who didn’t notice the smoke curling from his nostrils and ears comically when he’d finally see you stop your stoic act just to open up to other men apart from him. Spinner, Twice, and Compress backed off almost immediately from talking to you for too long when they’d see the look on his face as he watched you surrounded by them, but Tomura would merely smirk from behind your shoulders and keep a level gaze with his subordinate, knowing fully well why he was so pissed off.

You began to notice the weird energy at the base soon after the rest of the men would keep curt conversations with you in comparison to your long talks about video games, sex, and life after you would all win the war.

So you thought it would be best to ask the most semi-normal person there that wasn’t fueled with testosterone and aggression.

“I just don’t get it, why are they all being weird? I mean, we all used to talk so much and now they just...try avoiding me. Except for Tomura of course, he’s still normal I guess. But he always has this smirk on his face when I’m with him and I can’t figure out why.”

Toga stops cleaning her blood-laced needle to give you a sly look, all fangs and glinting white.

“And Dabi?”

“What about him?”

She sits back on her haunches and cocks her head at you. “You really don’t know what’s happening here, do ya?”

“No,” you roll your eyes in exasperation. “But I’ll gladly take any theories here, since apparently I’m the only one who doesn’t get it.”

“He likes you.”

You gape at her for a moment and then burst out laughing.

“What? That’s crazy, he doesn’t like me, he hates me!” He can barely stand being in a room with me, all he does is talk shit and harass me.”

The blond curiously licks at a bead of red from the top of the weapon and you cringe when her own tongue rips from the sharp point.

“You say he can’t stand being in a room with you, so then why is it that he’s always there? He might talk shit, but he talks to you out of everyone else right? Regardless of if it’s something mean.”

You’re thoroughly flabbergasted. She had a point, but it was too much to wrap your head around. She cheerfully hums and gets up to flounce around the room, cleaning her already-tidy room up to a T.

“And that little silent treatment act you’re giving him isn’t helping either. I swear, Jin told me Dabi almost burned his mouth off that one day you, him and Spinner were talking about GTA. He totally cornered the poor guy and threatened his life if he didn’t stop talking to you.”

“You’re joking.”

“Am not. He wanted to do the same to Tomura but I figure he wants to keep his job, so he won’t. Doesnt make it any better for him when you’re all chummy with the one person Dabi can’t stand the most, though.”

No wonder your leader was so smug whenever you two were in the same room, your attention solely focused on him.

You run your hands down your face, moaning about the whole situation being fucked. It’s just your luck that you couldn’t take a clue, but to be fair, how could you? Being called worthless and a waste of space wasn’t exactly what you had in mind for flirty banter.

“Soooo what’re you gonna do now? I heard he’s gonna try talking to you for realsies like, tomorrow or something.”

“Tomorrow?” You yelp, jumping up to your feet. “Why didn’t you tell me sooner? I can’t face him!”

“Oops,” she giggles, twirling with outstretched arms around her room and falling down onto her bed.

“Oh god, I can’t do this. I don’t even know if I like him! He’s such an ass, and even when he tries to come off as normal he’s just so..unsettling. I don’t think I’ve ever had a good conversation with him.”

Toga props her elbow up to rest her chin on her hand, frowning in thought.

“Why not just tell him how you feel?”

You snort and fold your arms. “Yeah, because the psycho arsonist is really gonna take the word no well.”

“Hmm.. I see what you mean. Oh well, whatever you choose, I’ll support you!”

And with that she skips out of the room sing songing for Twice to make a clone for her.

You were fucked.

And sure enough, the next day he approaches you, hands stuffed in his pockets and an almost bored look on his face.

“Yo newbie, I gotta talk to you for a second. Come with me”.

You look blearily up at him through eye bags and mussed hair, a direct telling of your sleepless night. Your stomach drops when you hear his words, but you nod your head and take a deep breath, mentally preparing yourself of the speech you practiced till the sun rose.

No one else is bothering you both today, Shigaraki having gone to visit All For One and the rest of the League left to their own devices. It was something you weren’t so comfortable with, but you doubted a hero would come to save you.

He leads you through the short winding hallways, each step of his growing louder and heavier as the space started growing smaller. Finally, he reaches a dimly lit room and stops outside the door, gesturing for you to go in with a casual wave of his patched wrist.

“After you.”

You raise an unsure eyebrow at his uncharacteristic show of consideration, and do as he says. You’re sweating bullets, fists balled so that your nails are digging into your palms, and vision going in and out of focus as your eyes begin to adjust to your surroundings.

A loud bang pulls you out of your stupor, and you whip around at the sound.

Dabi is already staring back at you with lidded eyes, leaning his weight against the door, his arms crossing over each other.

You shift on both feet, picking at your nails nervously.

“So, what did you wanna talk about?”

He says nothing, but just observes you, his head slightly tilted as if you were some abstract art piece.

“Dabi.”

“You got a lot of nerve, y’know that?”

He pushes himself off the wall and advances slowly towards you, hands stuffed in his trench coat pockets.

You immediately back up with raised palms, sputtering indignantly at his offensive movements coming closer and closer. However you thought his ‘confession’ would go, this was most definitely not starting out like how you planned

“Excuse me? What’re you talking about-“

“I know what you’re doing. You think whoring yourself out to ol’ crusty and the rest of the guys here is gonna make everyone forget just how useless you actually are. What the fuck do you even do here? You fuck up half the missions which I have to come bail your ass out of, you constantly put us in jeopardy by being all friendly with everyone, and you can’t even keep your mouth shut when I need to let off a little steam, as I rightfully should.”

In a perfect world, Dabi would be the light of your eyes, the hero of your world. In a perfect world, Dabi would be able to hold your hand in his smooth one and tell you that he wants you so much that it impairs his rational judgement and makes him say things he doesn’t mean. He’d tell you that your presence is like a weight lifted off his chest, your presence means he doesn’t have to think or worry about the outside world, he just wants you all to himself without anyone interfering.

But this is not a perfect world, and Dabi is not a hero, but rather one of the worst villains.

So he does exactly what one does as a villain.

Instead of a loving look that he knows he’s incapable of, Dabi looks down into your horrified gaze as he traps you against the wall between his scarred arms, spewing misplaced venom at you.

“I don’t know what your problem is, but you need to chill out. First you go ballistic on me ‘cause I talked to Tomura for no reason, then you act all weird and quiet as if you’re some decent person, and now you think you can just bring me in here and tell me how worthless I am? Go fuck yourself, seriously.”

You scoff and make your way to push him but stop when he does what he did a couple weeks ago. You hold bated breath as he casually brings an inflamed hand to scratch at his face as if he can’t feel the hellfire emitting from it, and let out a whine of distress as he lowers his head mere inches from yours, lips almost touching.

“Stop talking to the rest of the guys,” he breaths. “Stop smiling, laughing, or going near anyone who isn’t me.”

You wonder if he knows how insane he sounds. He does, but that’s nothing he doesn’t know already. If anything, it solidifies in his mind that if he is to be as bad as the world has made him out to be, then he is acting exactly fit for the role.

“Why?”

“I don’t need to give sluts like you a reason. It should come as easy, right? What’s putting out for one more person?”

Your eyes are brimming with tears now, your stoic facade showing cracks as you sniffle a little bit.

He eats it up and groans watching salty rivers cascade down your cheeks. Suddenly, he feels as though he can no longer hold back anymore, he feels as though if he thinks for one more second he’ll combust.

So, acting on instinct, he surges forward and presses his lips against yours, swallowing your cries of distress and holding your hands above your head in midst of them frantically beating on his chest.

Your lips are so, so soft compared to his and it’s making him sink deeper into this instinctual daze. He puffs against your writhing lips as he thrusts his hot tongue in your mouth.

You try to bite him but when his hands heat up against your skin you resign to your fate and wail, allowing him to pull his hips flush against yours and start humping your thighs.

He draws back and bites your lips, teeth clacking against yours as he does so. You open your terrified eyes and blanch when you see the look on his face.

Lust is clearly drawn everywhere, from his blown pupils to his heaving chest, all the way to his flushed face and wild eyes. He looks as though he’s about to eat you alive and it’s appropriate that you feel like a lamb about to be slaughtered.

“Dabi, wait, please stop-“

But he cuts your pants off again in favor of slamming his hips against yours again and grinding impossibly hard on your legs, the friction of his jeans catching on your clothed cunt and forcing a mewl out of you.

“I’m not gonna stop. I’ve had enough of you teasing. You’re mine now, and if it takes burning our dear leader alive and this whole place down for you to understand that then I’ll fucking do it.”

He thought that terrorizing you would ease the empty feeling in his heart, that continuously berating you would force him to see you as what he always said you were, just another empty headed cunt. He thought that distancing himself from you and focusing on other things would make him forget about the soft feelings he longed to share with you, feelings he thought perished in the fire he was in when he was a young boy .

Even now, there is an ache in his chest as he hears you beg for him to stop, to let you go, that you’re sorry for whatever you did.

But this is not a perfect world, and not everyone gets their way in life.

You should really learn that, because Dabi already has.

And so Dabi will act accordingly to what life has put out before him .

#dabi imagine #yandere dabi x reader #dabi smut #bnha imagines #bnha smut #mha smut #yandere dabi #tw: noncon #touya #bnha touya #touya todoroki #Dabi #dabi x reader

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soulmate-game · 3 years

Text

Not related to the other two Bio!mom Harley AUs that I did. Just... similar. I wrote this instead of sleeping, as per the usual.

—*—*—*—*—*

“I need your help.”

No accent, no threats of violence, no beating around the bush (figurative or otherwise). No fighting or unconscious bodies.

Just Harley Quinn with her hair down, no makeup, and completely serious, in the center of the Bat Cave. Even though her usual exaggerated Brooklynn accent (circa 1950s) had become a pretty inseparable part of her personality over the years, every now and then she forcibly stuffed it down and used her mostly unaccented voice. The one reminiscent of days with less colors on her face, a high bun, and a pristine white lab coat.

Every single one of the Bats and Birds present, fresh from an interrupted patrol thanks to her, could count the number of times they had seen Harley like this on one hand. Bruce would have the most recollections, but everyone else would have plenty of fingers left on said hand. So they all knew, especially when Bruce willingly pulled down his cowl so he could look Harley in the eye, that this was the start of something they were not likely to forget. And maybe their chances of survival were slim too.

“Harley,” Bruce’s voice was still gruff, seeing as he was still mostly Batman at the moment, but his eyes were soft. “Maybe you should tell us what you need help with first. And sit down. You look exhausted.”

Sure enough, there were dark circles under Harley’s eyes. She let Bruce-man lead her over to one of their debriefing tables and sit her down. She let out a huge sigh, her fingers tangling in her loose blond locks.

“I have a confession, and it isn’t gonna leave this cave, capiche?” The slight return of her accent relieved a little of the tension, but not much. Taking this as their cue, the rest of the bats spread out into their usual seats at the table. Bruce stayed near Harley, keeping a hand on her shoulder in silent support. Harley didn’t continue talking until he gave her a solemn nod in agreement. She gulped— an action that immediately returned the tension.

“... fifteen years ago, back when I was still with Joker, I disappeared off the Gotham scene for a few months. I’m sure a few of you remember,” she looked up, and a couple of the older vigilantes nodded. Really, Jason has still been Robin back then. But the memory stuck out in his head now that he was thinking about it.

“Yeah, you were breaking away from him a little bit, which was weird at the time,” Red Hood mused aloud, arms crossed. “I think you helped us out a couple times and did some of your first team ups with Ivy before you vanished. Then a few months go by and you were back in action with Joker, so we mostly ignored it as you just being you.”

Harley nodded. “Ah, my Ivy’s a lifesaver, even back then. She helped cover up the timeline by keeping me in action for longer than I should’a been without putting me at too much risk.”

“Timeline…” Red Robin spoke up, eyes huge even behind his mask. “You don’t mean—“

“Harley,” Bruce breathed, having also caught on. “You were pregnant?”

The air went still. Harley sniffed, eyes watering even as she smiled.

“Oh yeah. Shouldn’t have been possible, ya know? Me ‘n Joker being dumped in that damn acid should have made us both more sterile than an operatin’ room. But I knew I couldn’t raise a kid, so after she was born—“

“You kept her?” Damian interrupted, earning a gentle cuff over the head from Dick. Harley just snorted.

“Yeah. Not gonna lie, I thought about abortion. But the baby didn’t do nothin’ wrong, and I was still in love with Joker back then so I was ecstatic that I was able to make something new with part ‘a him in it. Still, I knew a baby didn’t deserve to be raised in Gotham. Especially not my baby, not with my enemies and history. Not with who her father was. I knew he’d never want her, never let me keep her. So I spent the last five months of my pregnancy lookin’ around for the best possible family to take her in. And I found them in Paris, France. A sweet couple, both of them bakers. Sabine, she’s both adorably sweet and super kickass. Comes from a Chinese family that is crazy about teachin’ their women martial arts. But nothing shady about it, I triple checked. Just bonding through kicking people in the face. Which is perfect, I wanted my baby to know how to defend herself. I knew she’d need those skills eventually. And Tom, that’s Sabine’s wife, he’s a gentle giant. Same size as Bane, but as harmless as a puppy and makes the best croissants ever. Seriously, the best.”

“Harley,” Bruce gently prodded, but there was a tiny grin on his face. Seeing her behaving so… so normally, so proud and reminiscent, was a rare treat. Bruce would be lying if he said he wasn’t proud of how far the woman had come. How she had freed herself and become a better person, mostly on her own.

“Right, right. The point,” Harley took a breath, rubbing her forehead. “I came clean to Tom and Sabine, but apparently they knew who I was the whole time. They just didn’t care— did I mention they are perfect? Anyway, once I explained everything, they agreed immediately to adopting my baby. They’d been wanting kids, but it would’a been too risky for Sabine’s health. That’s how I found them anyway, they were in the market to adopt. We named her Marinette. She took Tom and Sabine’s last names, hyphenated. We decided Quinn would be her middle name. And after that, I came back to Gotham and told myself that she was in good hands and I needed to forget about her. Cuz I was no good for her. I knew that. I went back to my old tricks. And then…” Harley chuckled, but it was self-depreciating.

“Then a few years passed, and I started breaking away from Joker for real. Then we broke up, I blew up Ace Chemicals while you guys were outta town doing Justice League and Young Justice shit. I started dating Ivy. And—“ she smiled softly at the table, clearly seeing something the rest of them couldn’t. “Then Ivy convinced me to go see her. Visit my baby, see how she’s been. And I did. Marinette was seven years old, but damn it to hell she was gorgeous. And say whatever you want about me and Joker— most of it will even be true— but neither of us are stupid. And she inherited all of our intelligence. All of it. She got my blue eyes. But she got his hair, which meant Sabine teased me relentlessly about ‘are you sure she isn’t that Wayne’s kid?’ And don’t make that face Bruce, you’d be lucky to have a kid half as beautiful as my Mari-pie. No offense, Damian. Anyway. Anyway, this is the important part. Or part of it.

“She sat there and listened to everything I had to say. Everything. A little seven year old, who could barely understand English at the time, and she listened without interrupting once. She never threw a fit, she wasn’t angry or confused. I told her about the things I’d done in the past— well, G rated versions— and she didn’t care. She called me Momma Harley right away, said she wanted to meet Aunt Ivy sometime soon, and started telling me everything about her that I’d missed. From that day on, she became my sunshine. The light of my life, and I still call her at least once a week every week. When I disappear for a few days out of the city? I’m visiting her—“

“You’re banned from international travel, Harley,” Dick scolded, but he sounded way too amused for it to work. He knew she had her ways, anyway. Nobody could actually stop Harley damn Quinn from doing whatever she wanted.

“—Ugh, she tells me the same thing every time! Disappointed glare and everything. I don’t know how I gave birth to such a goodie goodie, but somehow I did. Not important though! The important thing is, I’m always the first to hear when something new happens in her life. And we had decided that she wouldn’t visit me in Gotham until she was at least eighteen, but apparently she disobeyed me— which I should have expected honestly— and entered you guys’ WE international scholastic competition.”

“Oh no,” Bruce pinched the bridge of her nose. “Marinette Dupain-Cheng? The contest winner?” He finally pulled out a chair and sat down. “The winner gets an all-expense paid trip to Gotham for them and their whole class.”

“Exactly!” Harley threw up her hands. “Mari told me last week, and I’ve been trying to talk her out of coming ever since. But she’s inherited both of our stubbornness too, and she isn’t budgin’ a bit. ‘Momma Harley, I wanna see you and Auntie Ivy though!’ And ‘Momma, Gotham’s nothing I can’t handle,’ or my favorite, ‘Maybe you’ll finally get to see me dropkick someone three times my size then, and I’ll prove it.’”

“So that’s what you meant by you need our help,” Tim said as he leaned forward over the table. “Joker just broke out of Arkham yesterday. You want us to protect her.”

“I’d prefer if one of you was with her outside of the mask too, as often as possible,” Harley confirmed. “I can’t stop her from coming here anymore, but I also don’t trust Joker for a second. As soon as he sees her, I’m afraid he’ll make the connection.”

“She looks like him?” Damian asked, scrunching up his nose at the ugly mental image of Joker as a teenage girl. Harley shook her head, solemn.

“She looks like a dark-haired mini-me,” she corrected. “She even keeps her hair in pigtails as her way of showing support for me. And I know Marinette can kick ass, Sabine’s trained her well. But Marinette inherited more than I’d like from me,” Harley ran a hand through her hair. “I didn’t notice it until she was thirteen. She got a crush on a classmate, and it was almost like watching videos of me back during the early days of— well, of Harley Quinn. Just without the crime and insanity. She didn’t even realize that she was almost stalking the poor kid until I pointed it out, and luckily I was able to put my doctorate to good use and we nipped that right in the bud ASAP. She never meant it that way, anyway. As soon as I explained things to her, she was horrified and immediately asked me to help her learn how to have a healthy relationship. That was a fun discussion,” Harley grimaced. “But she still gets attached to people really, really easily. Once she grew out of her crush on that boy, she adopted him as her unofficial brother. She already calls Selina “Auntie,” even though I’ve barely mentioned her to Marinette. She gets attached fast, and deeply. And I’m afraid that even after all the warning I’ve done, all the stories I’ve told her—“

“You’re afraid she’ll get attached to Joker just like you did,” Bruce finished for her, closing his eyes. “Because she knows he’s her father.”

“Yes,” Tears were slowly dripping down her face already, her hands curled into fists so tightly that her knuckles were paper white. “You know how he is. If he finds out she’s his biological daughter, he’ll immediately try to take advantage of that. And he’s far too good with his words for people like me and Mari. I’m worried outta my mind. Please. Help keep my baby safe from him.”

“We will,” Jason no longer had his helmet on, or the domino mask that he usually wore underneath it. All of them knew masks were merely formality with Harley nowadays. And he needed to look her directly in the eye so she could see how serious he was. “I can sign up as a bodyguard for the class. It won’t be weird, seeing as they’re tourists and this is Gotham. They also have several rich kids in their group if I remember right.”

Bruce nodded, agreeing with Jason. “That’s a good idea. I can lead the class on their tours of WE personally. That’ll serve the purpose of keeping an eye on her and shutting up the investors that keep begging me to make more public appearances for the sake of the company. Marinette’s name is already released to the news as the winner of the contest, so we can’t keep her out of the spotlight long. Tim, you’ll have to keep an eye on any and all pictures of the class. Try to erase or doctor the images with her in it well enough that connections between her and Harley can’t be easily made. Dick, you and Damian will be in charge of keeping an eye out for any activity from Joker. The slightest hint, and you notify all of us. We’ll decide on a case-by-case basis who is necessary to stick with the class and who goes after the clown.”

“She’s gonna sneak out of her hotel to stay with me and Ivy,” Harley admitted, bringing the (now slightly judgemental) attention back to her. She raised her hands up in surrender. “She didn’t tell me that, and I didn’t approve or suggest it! I just know my baby too well to not realize that that’s her plan. Could ya provide an escort?”

Bruce sighed. “This is gonna be an eventful month.”

#maribat #ml x dc #mlb x dc #soulmate-game #bio!dad au #bio!mom harley quinn #bio!dad joker #maribat fanfic #maribat fic #platonic Harley x Marinette #platonic Ivy x Marinette #platonic brucinette

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shiraishi-mai · 3 years

Text

[2:00am]

You sat at the end of the table, swaying slightly in your seat. A department event was tonight and your friends finally convinced you to leave the house for once, claiming it would cheer you up.

"And I hate to admit it, but when he's nice, he's amazing," you sniffled. "And handsome."

You grabbed your friend's hands. "Like realllly pretty." You frowned.

"I hate him."

Your classmate looked at your friend amused.

"Is she going on about him again?" He sighed nodding.

"Damn she's been going at it for a while. Three weeks of just ranting about how horrible he was and how in love she was and crying."

"Why'd he have to say all that terrible stuff," you mumbled as you propped your face on your elbow. "Everything was so perfect." Your head nodded downward.

"Did you know she even had a boyfriend?"

"She blurted it out one day when Koko made fun of her for being single. But she studies all the time like she's in the library early in the morning, goes to classes, then studio, and I don't know when she even sleeps let alone have time to get a boyfriend."

"Or even hang out with him?" She spends her weekends either working or at the studio." Your friend frowned. "I kept trying to get her out of the apartment but-" they glanced at your half asleep figure. "Maybe it wasn't such a good idea."

Their eyes widened as you laid your head on the table, cheek squished against the wood and facing away from them.

"y/n, y/n do you want to go home?" your friend tentatively asked.

"Nope, all good!" you threw a thumbs up high enough for him to see behind you without moving your head. "I'm just going to try to get the room to stop rocking." He nodded hesitantly and slowly your friends started conversing about school and other things while you tried to focus on your breathing. You closed your eyes in an attempt to reduce the strong pounding in your temple.

The door to the bar opened and a tall figure walked in scanning the bar. When his eyes landed on you, he drew in a sharp breath as he took in your slumped figure. Even half-passed out drunk, hair mussed, and head plopped on the table, you were so damn pretty.

"Is she sleeping," a familiar voice came from beside you and your eyes tightened in response. You were too out of it to register it and frankly to exhausted to care about whatever was happening around you.

"I don't think so," your other friend said, "But she was drinking a lot."

"y/n, let's go home." The voice was closer to your face now and you could almost feel the warmth radiating from the figure lowered in front of you.

"My head hurts," you whined.

"I know baby, let's get you some painkillers and then you can lie down."

Baby? He's real? Your friend mouthed at your other friend. He was shocked as he observed the very large man crouching in front of you with a soft expression. His yellow hair was a bit damp and his baby face had faint dark circles under his eyes. And you were right, he was handsome. They didn't expect your ex-boyfriend to look like that.

"Let's go pretty girl," he repeated and you slowly opened your eyes.

"'Tsumu I'm tired."

He swallowed as he felt the ache in his chest grow worse. You sounded so tired. A stark contrast to your usual lively self. Were you sleeping properly? Eating? You had a tendency to forget to eat...

You gazed at him and he resisted the urge to stroke your cheek.

"I know. I'm sorry." He frowned. "There's food at home though. Maybe that will make you feel better?"

You gave him a dreamy smile, "Yay food. Okay."

"Okay," he repeated, standing up while you attempted to.

"I don't think she would want you taking her if she was sober," your friend frowned. "y/n didn't you say this morning you didn't want to see him? What if he does something weird?" Atsumu opened his mouth with an offended expression when you said, "It's fine. He's an asshole but he wouldn't pull anything."

"Besides," you breathed, "I'm going to pretend tonight didn't happen anyway."

Ouch. Atsumu thought as you grabbed onto his wrist for support as you made your way out of the bar. When the cool air finally hit you, you sighed in relief as the throbbing in your head finally decreased. There was a small walk to the main road where the cabs were and you debated kicking off your shoes.

A squeal came from your mouth as you realised you were being picke dup.

"This'll be faster," Atsumu said as he carried you bridal style. He wasn't wrong and you didn't want to walk anyway so you just wrapped your arms around his neck and leaned into his warmth.

Having you in his arms and watching you automatically nuzzling into his chest made Atsumu clench his teeth, upset at the whole situation. If he hadn't messed everything up, maybe they would have been at home, snuggling or watching a movie. Or he could have gone with her and met her friends and they would have gone home happily, safely with each other.

***

When you reached the apartment, you fumbled with your keys before stumbling in and turned to stare at Atsumu as he stepped in after you.

"I'm just going to make sure you get to bed and don't hurt yourself." He said with his hands raised. Your face was expressionless as you just turned and walked into your room, flopping on the bed.

"y/n you need to change," he said following you in. "And you said you hate waking up with makeup."

"I don't care," you said quietly and Atsumu closed his eyes for a second and took a deep breath as he walked over.

"Princess, sit up for me? Please?"

You sat up sleepily rubbing your eyes.

"Leg," he ordered and you stuck it out in front of you so he could take your boot off. After doing the same with the other, you watched him disappear into the bathroom.

Is he actually here? You thought hazily. He shouldn't be right? I should kick him out.

But you felt the fatigue in your bones and couldn't find the energy to yell or tell him to leave. After the breakup, balancing everything in your hectic life and doing it all with a smile when all you wanted to do was curl up in bed and do nothing was apparently unsustainable.

Seeing Atsumu made you want to wrap yourself around him and never let go. He was your support and had always helped you through bad days. It was ironic that the person you wanted to comfort you and talk about everything with was the cause of the problem.

You were staring at the floor when you felt something damp on your face. Atsumu was slowly dabbing at your cheeks with a wipe, gently taking off your makeup. He wouldn't meet your eyes as you stared at him. His eyes were tired too and something in them didn't look right. HIs entire face seemed less...bright?

"Close your eyes for me." He shook his head, resisting the urge to kiss you and continued.

When you opened them back up he was finishing taking off the last bit of lipstick, mouth slightly open and then smiling softly when he said, "Okay done."

I'm still in love with you. You felt the words bubbling on your tongue.

I love you so much. He felt selfish at the thought.

You sighed and began unbuttoning your shirt and Atsumu's eyes widened.

"H-hey," pink tinged his ears, "Um I'll go get you some water."

It's not like you haven't seen me naked before. You slipped on a shirt thrown on the floor and pulled shorts on.

"You're wearing my shirt," he commented when he came back in. You glanced down and remembered how you had worn it for the past few weeks, trying to find any form of comfort from the hurt you felt.

"It doesn't smell like you anymore," you mumbled, crawling under the blankets. The instant relief you felt as you laid down almost made you moan. Atsumu didn't reply as he gently set the glass of water by your bed stand.

"I guess I'll go now," he said, standing a bit awkwardly and picking up his jacket from the chair. He froze when he reached the door as he heard a quiet sniffle. The desire to be in his arms was driving you crazy and you felt your willpower crumbling.

"Could you stay," you bit your lip and kept your eyes closed. "At least until I fall asleep?"

There was a silence and you cursed yourself for asking, feeling another pang in your chest at the rejection.

You felt the mattress dip and your eyes opened in shock as Atsumu laid down carefully beside you on top of the blanket. He stuck an arm under your neck while the other wrapped around your back and moved you closer to his chest. He smelled like home.

Your tears had finally stopped and both of you sighed in relief as the tightness in your chests lightened considerably and your bodies relaxing for the first time in a while.

"Does your head still hurt?" he asked quietly.

"A bit."

You felt a hand begin to stroke your hair, smoothing out any tangles before resting on your cheek.

"I miss you," he said to the darkness.

"Me too."

"I'm sorry," his thumb stroked your cheek.

"Okay." you moved up to place your head in the crook of his neck and he rested his chin on top of your hair, tightening his arms.

***

You woke up confused. How did I get home?

Out of the corner of your eye, you spotted a box of meds and a note stuck on top.

"I got you some hangover meds and coffee should be made in the pot. I know you hate waking up alone but I thought it'd be better if I wasn't here. I know it doesn't mean much but, I still love you."

Your lip trembled and you looked up at the ceiling to keep your tears from falling.

"You're such an ass," you whispered. He still loved you but you had already forced Atsumu Miya out of your heart and there was no going back now.

#haikyuu x reader #haikyuu angst #hq x reader #atsumu angst #atsumu x reader #atsumu drabble #atsumu miya x reader #ialreadyhaveaparttwolol #hq angst #haikyuu scenarios #haikyuu drabbles

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yeojaa · 3 years

Text

( NEVER LET YOU GO. )

You do things without thought, making impulse decisions that’d make Freud proud. Sometimes they pay off, sometimes they don’t.

(or: Jeon Jungkook’s just as impulsive as you.)

pairing. tattoo artist!jjk x f!reader.

genre + rating. slice of life fluff, light smut. explicit (but only at the end).

tags / warnings. mentions of heavily tattooed!JK, casual drinking, tender lovemakin’, JK with the bad jokes, honestly just him being funny and chill like that one guy you never get over...

wc. 7.6k.

beta reader(s). @hobi-gif, @papillonsgf, and @yeoldontknow 💛 ty for always indulging me and most importantly, supporting me when i begin to spiral. 🤠

author note. i got this idea into my head one evening in the shower and now... it is this. it’s not your usual bad boy tattoooist!JK fic but i hope you enjoy regardless. as always, feedback means a lot!

You and forethought aren’t close friends. You really aren’t even distant cousins, or part of the same family tree. You consider it a stranger, wave loftily as it passes you by, squinting like you can’t properly make out what it is. Careful consideration? Thoughtful patience? None of that exists for you. At least, not when you really, really want something.

It’s what has you here now, bumbling your way into the tattoo shop like a newborn baby bird.

You wonder how it must look, whether the shop assistant is used to this. Random girl shows up on a Sunday afternoon looking like a fish out of water, eager yet afraid. By how she greets you - with a curious stare and not quite a smile - you’re sure she is.

“Do you take walk-ins?”

You’d meant to make an appointment. Had sat for hours on the shop’s Instagram page, combing through the residents’ portfolios, trying to decide who to reach out to. When you’d finally decided, you’d realised books were a thing and most of them were closed. (Just your luck.)

Still, it never hurt to try, right?

“Everyone’s fully booked.” The girl sounds bored, apathetic yet genial. (You don’t blame her.) By the way her stare swings over you, it feels like a dismissal. You’re ready to admit defeat - head half-bowed, words draped over your tongue. “But our apprentice might be able to squeeze you in.”

An apprentice? Well— that’s not exactly what you’d been hoping for, but this shop is reputable. Well-known. Considered one of the best in the city. Surely their apprentice would be fine. Just less seasoned, not as experienced.

You all but snap your neck nodding along, gratitude tumbling out in the form of awkward laughter. “That’d be great!”

The girl passes you off with a nod of her head, gesturing down the hall. “Last room on the left. His name’s Jungkook. His schedule says he’s all clear, but maybe knock before you go in.” It’s not the sunniest smile you’ve ever received, but the small thing she offers helps with the nerves. Stills them beneath your skin as you do as you’re told.

“Jungkook?” There’s not really anywhere to knock, every wall neatly frosted glass and no doors in sight. (You had passed a few folding screens but otherwise, it’s open concept, each room offering a glimpse into the artist who works inside.) It feels too disruptive to tap your knuckles on one glass pane, lest it interrupt someone else.

(His studio is minimally decorated but inviting: one big cabinet; two of those typical IKEA shelves in the 4x4 grid that every new homeowner and their mother have; and a shop table, upon which a black backpack sits. Various plants dress the room - both hanging from the ceiling and along the window - and Polaroids string over walls, held aloft by twine. A Roomba sits by itself in a corner and the tattoo bed dominates most of the space, positioned closer to the dividing wall; one teeny tiny rolling chair sits beside it. There’s a bench on your left, with a pair of Birkenstocks tucked beneath. All in all, very homey. Reminiscent of your own apartment.)

Hidden behind the bed, crouched low to the ground beside the cabinet, is a head of dark hair that speaks, drawing your attention from studying the cozy space. “Oh?”

You’re not expecting the face that turns to you, all big doe eyes and the sweetest dimples.

For a moment, you forget what you’re here for. Why you’re standing in the empty door frame, staring down at the guy like you’ve spent your entire life secluded and have no idea how to speak.

The longer you’re quiet, the more his concern seems to grow, single brow disappearing into his inky fringe. It hangs in his vision at certain angles, shields the brightness of his stare with each turn of his chin. “Are you okay?” He’s even risen - stopped what he was doing - so he can see you more clearly, without any obstruction in the way. Good for him, but worse for you.

He’s so cute. Were you prepared to look like an uncertain idiot in front of this… angel?

“Y-yeah.” You manage after what feels like forever, sweeping your nerves under the rug that sits on the floor, separates the sole of his sneakers from hard concrete. “Um— I was told you might have some time? For, uh, a walk-in?”

(Why’re you stuttering? You’re never shy. Or rather, you’re not this nervous mess. People have always called you an extrovert, outgoing as hell, a social butterfly.)

(You aren’t those things but you appreciate the sentiment nonetheless.)

“Oh!” Realisation dawns across his features, throws his kind smile into greater relief, and you have to actively tell yourself not to stare, tearing your gaze away to focus on the wall of stencils past his shoulder. He moves into motion then, stepping around the bed to meet you still rooted in the doorway. “Yeah, I’ve got time. Come in.” Up close like this - there’s only maybe two feet between you - you can make out the little scar on his cheek; the tiny beauty mark below his bottom lip; each individual lash that frames his Bambi eyes and flutters when he blinks. “I probably can’t draw you anything new right now but I’ve got some flash, if you’re interested?”

Even if you weren’t interested, you don’t think you’d say no. You were always a sucker for a cute boy and this Jungkook? He was that. In spades.

“Sure.”

“Are you looking for anything in particular?” He’s retreating back into the room, moving to grab his iPad off the far table. It’s balanced on his arm when he swivels to you, prominent front teeth on full display. “I’ve got a pretty big selection.”

When he drops onto the bench - a wayward vine above his head tickling his cheek - he gestures to the spot beside him. This time, you don’t stare for a stupid amount of time, instead taking up the seat without hesitation.

“So—” He’s swiping through the photo library with his Apple Pen. You’re sure there are pretty sketches on the screen - you just can’t focus on them, too preoccupied by the artwork that crawls across his hand and into the sleeve of his oversized, well-worn shirt. It’s an intricate chrysanthemum, impossibly well-shaded with bold colours that demand attention and stand out over his fair complexion; it creeps halfway up the back of his hand to tickle over his knuckles. He notes your attention with a quiet chuckle, fingers wiggling. The ink moves, flows, ripples with the motion, before his hand relaxes, knuckles unravelling as he offers the limb to you and your curiosity. “Do you like it?”

“It’s incredible.” It really is. You’ve never seen anything like it, as if a painting has been done across his skin, laid in watercolour rather than tattoo ink. “Did it hurt?”

(You almost want to hit yourself for the stupid question. Of course it did. It’s a hand tattoo.)

Jungkook only laughs again, doesn’t hold it against you despite the verbal barrage you’re faced with internally. “Like crazy, but it was worth it. This was my first tattoo and all the rest have just sort of been—” He shrugs, fabric of his shirt bunching around his collar.

“A piece of cake?” You can only imagine.

“Exactly.”

You nod thoughtfully, as if that means anything to you. (It doesn’t. You’re bare as a baby’s bottom, blemish free save for the occasional hellish pimple and the scar you have from surgery on your hand when you broke parts of it in sixth grade.)

If he can tell you’re talking out of your ass, he says nothing, redirecting your attention back to the iPad propped on his lap. “Do any of these interest you?” He’s resumed scrolling, swiping carefully through pages of flash. There are assorted floral pieces (plum stems, lily stalks, fully bloomed mums) and various skeletons (what looks like a deer, a dragon, a wolf). They’re mostly blackwork with fine lines and heavy contrast, so wonderfully detailed you spend too much time studying one piece before he’s flipping to the next.

“That one.” It catches your eye more than the others have. Likely because it’s one of the few pieces in colour, soft hues spilling over neat lines. A pretty little cat with a braided collar, big golden bell centered beneath its head, unravelling petals sweeping around it.

“You like cats?”

You do. “She looks like mine.”

“It’s settled.” He beams then, rising so quickly you’re startled; you watch as he moves around the space with decisive steps, putting your plan into motion. A paper is pulled seemingly out of nowhere, laid on a wooden clipboard and offered with a blue ballpoint pen. “If you can fill all of this out, I can get the stencil ready.”

Well, that was easy. Somehow, you’d thought it’d be more complicated, a ton of back and forth and yes and no. You can’t deny you’re nervous, staring down at the consent form.

(It doesn’t mean you read it any more than you normally would, though. You gloss over all the points, making note of what you’re agreeing to without really considering any of it. You’ve wanted a tattoo for most of your life. There’s really no going back now.)

(You just hope it turns out like you want - that you’re not just being blindsided by a sudden superficial crush and a lack of critical thought.)

“I think I’m done,” you mumble, slashing the date into the paper with gusto.

“Do you have your ID?” You’ve got it ready for him when he returns to take both it and the form. “I’m just going to make copies and then we can discuss more.”

He’s gone with that same smile, disappearing back the way you’d come.

Alone, the nerves set in. You’re actually doing this. Getting a tattoo. Putting something permanent on your body. It’s exhilarating and terrifying all at once, shaking your hands in your lap. Maybe you should’ve eaten more before you’d come. (You’d woken up late - had only shoved two pieces of raisin pinwheel bread into your mouth before you’d made up your mind about this.)

(But had you really made up your mind? Was this going to be it? It feels mostly like yes, though the repetitive thud of your toe against concrete seems to indicate otherwise. It’s as if you’re tapping out something in morse, telling yourself—)

“Okay!” Jungkook’s back before you know it, driver’s license returned to you along with an unsealed envelope. You eye it curiously. “A copy of your form and an aftercare sheet.”

He’s really thought of everything. Or the shop has. Either way, you appreciate that when you’re not so sure, caught somewhere between giddily excited and vaguely worried, as if someone’s pulled a weight off your shoulders, taken on some of the burden of this spontaneous choice.

“So, where do you want it?” It’s like he has a one track mind, utterly focused on the task at hand. (Probably a good thing, given you’re about to voluntarily let him needle your poor skin.)

You hadn’t thought about that. You’d always liked the idea of a back of the arm tattoo, positioned somewhere along your tricep so it could be seen while turned away. “My arm?”

“Upper? Forearm?” There’s not an ounce of annoyance or exasperation or anything else negative. He’s just genuinely curious, peering over his shoulder at you.

“Tricep area, I think? Would that look good?”

“If you like it, it will.” Then he grins - beams so bright you half expect the sun to come zooming out of his mouth - and laughs, a funny little cackle that makes you do the same. “I’m kidding. That was cheesy. But I’m sure it’ll look fine. We can try laying it down first, so you get an idea?”

“That sounds good.” A lot better than endless years of regret for poor placement.

“You’ll, uh— need to take your shirt off though.”

It’s then you realise your mistake: wearing a turtleneck. “Oh.”

“Yeah.”

A beat of silence passes, then another, and he smiles so kindly you wonder what your expression must look like. Sour, like you’d sucked fresh lemon? Awkward, as if you’d never worn anything less than double layers before (a proud Never Nude)?

“If you’re uncomfortable, we can reschedule. Or I can put a divider up so you don’t have to worry about being seen from outside. Whatever you’d prefer.”

The longer you stay quiet - a seemingly common occurrence today - the closer his brows furrow, preparations coming to a standstill. You can tell he’s not trying to rush you, politely waiting for an answer with transfer paper in one hand and scissors in the other.

(If only he could peek into your brain, see the whole reason you’re hesitating is because you can’t quite remember which bra you’re wearing, whether it’s the slinky black one that offers absolutely zero support or the lacy blue one with the cute detailing and practically see-through cups.)

(Did it really matter either way? He was probably desensitized.)

“It’s fine.” You find the confidence somehow, nodding firmly. Jungkook’s still studying you carefully, though. Waiting as you strip your purse off your shoulder and reach for the hem of your sweater. It feels funny in your fingers, more like steel wool than sheep’s.

One breath. Two.

You fold your turtleneck neatly, laying it beside your bag and turning back to face him. “All right. Let’s do this.”

“So, which arm?” He’s close now - crossed to you in two strides of his long legs - and holds up the stencil.

Your right rises, fingers wiggling as if to say hello.

He lays the design down, pats it into place with deft fingers. You don’t realise the breath you’re holding until he pulls the sticky paper away, leaving neat line work in its wake.

“Oh.” It slips out of its own accord, almost a whisper as you stare at the design in the mirror. “It’s so pretty.”

There’s pride in his eyes as he stares with you, bounces his gaze between it and your face. “Thanks.” He lets you linger, peering thoughtfully at your reflection before speaking, casually hopeful. “What do you think?”

“This is it. Right here.”

Maybe he’d fist pump, if he were any less cool. As it stands, he simply nods, cheeks round like fresh baked bread, nose scrunched with glee.

“All right. We’ll shave you down and get started. You like the colours, right?” Once again, he’s buzzing around the room, gathering up all his materials and snapping black gloves on once everything is laid out upon his cart. It’s heavily stickered, covered in video game vinyls and anime mattes. (You recognise a handful of them, make a note to ask him where he got them from.) He pats the tissue papered bed top when you make no movement toward him. “Hop on up. Face down, if that’s okay.”

You do as he says, climbing atop with minimal grace. It takes you a bit of adjusting to get comfortable, folding your left arm under your head and allowing your right to simply dangle, uncertain of where it should be.

“You’re sparkly.”

“What?” You’d misheard that, right?

“Your skin. You’re sparkling.” He sounds a little in awe, surprised as wetness spills across your arm, the edge of a razor following closely thereafter.

“Oh.” Heat creeps over your cheeks, slinks all the way up into your roots and has you chuckling awkwardly. “It’s my soap.”

“Sparkle soap?” Whether he’s just making conversation or genuinely curious, you’re not sure. He does seem delighted by the fact, though, as if he’s never seen a girl covered in glitter before. (Which, fair.)

“It’s this specialty holiday soap. It has pigment in it.”

“That’s cool.” He’s laying the stencil down again, smoothing it over your now-hairless arm. “It smells nice.”

Obviously, you agree. It’s honey and citrus, brightly fragrant but not overpowering, lingering on your clothes like the subtle golden glitter does. Still, you flush, heat crossing from a casual day under the sun to burning-on-the-stove hot. “Thanks.”

“Was that weird? I hope not.”

“No, you’re fine.”

He hums a tiny noise, something that sounds like understanding and appreciation all at once.

Then the buzzing starts - a steady, inescapable brrrrrrrrr - and he’s gripping your arm, steady yet gentle. “Ready?”

Honestly, you’re not sure. Hearing the noise makes it seem scary, has your entire body tensing up like Pavlov’s dog. Your honesty can’t be helped, a nervous giggle chased off your tongue. “I think so.”

“I think so too.”

By the time you’re done - a good almost five hours later, your arm stinging so bad you wonder why you’d ever sat down in the first place - you’d fallen asleep twice, started drooling on your other arm once, and really, really have to pee.

“All right—”“ The incessant buzzing stops. Liquid spills where the pain centres, followed by rougher paper towel. “You are finished.”

(You might be imagining it, but he sounds about as relieved as you. Maybe because you’d been sitting for hours on hours, turning down his offer for a break because you just wanted to get it done and therefore forcing him to do the same.)

“Can I see?” You don’t want to leap to your feet - feel a bit too lightheaded for that - but you’re bouncing with excitement, the thrumming in your arm intensified when you shift to catch a better look at Jungkook’s face.

“Yeah, go ahead. Just be careful - you might be a bit—”

He’s right. You nearly topple over the moment you stand, none-too-gently rolling off the edge of the bed and barely landing safely on your feet. It’s only his close proximity that prevents you from falling to your knees, one degloved hand darting out to steady you.

“Careful!” It’s politely reproachful, coloured soft with worry.

“Sorry, sorry.” You seize the edge of the bed, gripping tight as you wait for everything to settle, the lightheadedness to recede. Everything straightens out quickly enough. “Got up too quickly.”

“Do you need a snack?” He’s already up, moving faster than you, rummaging through the cabinet against the far wall. “I’ve got seaweed and Choco Boys and shrimp chips and—”

You can’t help but laugh, hobbling to the mirror to inspect your new piece of art. “I’m fine.” That, and you’re too occupied with the ink that now sits embedded beneath your skin, a flurry of lovely colour and impressive line work.

“Choco Boys it is then.” The familiar yellow package is thrust toward you, a pack of his own already ripped open. Mushroom-shaped treats are tossed into his open mouth, lips curling around chocolate and his next words, “it’ll help with your sugar levels.”

A thank you comes, fingers curling around the snacks, but you’re still in deep, so focused on the lovely hue that bleeds over your skin, marks up previously unblemished flesh and holds your attention. It’s better than you could’ve possibly imagined, a piece of artwork forever yours. It makes you giddy as you stare at it - almost reach for it, but stop when you catch the alarmed widening of Jungkook’s eyes.

“You like?”

“I love.” You’d stare at it for hours, if you could. Likely will, once you get home, sitting in front of the mirror like a zombie. “Thank you so, so much.”

The brunet beams as he polishes off the last of his Choco Boys, tossing his dark hair back with a flick of his head. Triumph rolls off him in palpable waves, sitting pretty in the lines by his eyes, the scrunching around his nose. Seeing how it blooms in his stare is like a straight endorphin shot, as if you’ve done more than just be the canvas he’s laid all his hard work into. “It was a pleasure.”

It’s a whole month later - enough time for the piece to heal - before you decide you want another one. It’s not as spontaneous as the first time, instead led with an Instagram direct message to @jeonink. (You half expect him not to answer; you’re utterly delighted when he responds not five minutes later.)

Maybe it’s fate or maybe it’s luck that has him with availability the same day you reach out, bringing you back to the studio three hours after you’ve messaged him.

He’s just as cute as before, black baseball cap pulled low over his ears, silver-lined ears twinkling beneath the shop lights.

“So, what’re you thinking?”

Truthfully, you hadn’t done much thinking. Just like before, you’d decided you wanted a tattoo and, well, the rest had been history. You figured you’d let him have free reign, given how happy you were with your first piece. “A sleeve?”

That surprises him. His whole face lights up, eyes wide, mouth rounding curiously. “Like, a full sleeve?” It’s not necessarily a no - more of an are you sure? he hides between the syllables.

“I think so.”

He nods slowly, knowingly, arms folded over his chest, expression suddenly unreadable. “You caught the itch.”

Your own features twist, brows shooting high. “The what?”

“The tattoo itch,” he clarifies with a laugh, the sound sweeping your concern away like the sea. “People say once you get one, you get addicted to the feeling.” He’s extending both arms to you now, hands palm up. For a moment, you’re note sure what he’s doing. (In actuality, you’re distracted by the fact that he’s in a tee, muscle cording his limbs, undulating as he turns his arms over.) “I got bit by it when I lived in Japan. It’s actually what got me into tattooing myself.”

You remember what he’d said last time - how he’d spent a handful of years overseas, working in restaurants after having followed his last partner there. He’d shared lots about his life, giving you the Sparknotes version while you’d ground enamel to fine dust.

“I guess I have the itch then.”

“Guess you do.”

Your dream comes to life in four excruciating sessions. It’s some of the worst pain you’ve ever endured (you’re never going to get an elbow tattoo ever again) but you’d do it all again in a heartbeat, utterly in love with the mural that now lives on your skin. A peony caps your shoulder while one runs halfway up your bicep. Another takes up the entirety of your forearm. There’s a darling little bird and delicately inked koi. It’s breathtaking, greater than anything you could have dreamt up.

You’ve been staring at it for at least three minutes now, tracing over the freshly laid colour with a tender touch. You’re grateful for the SecondSkin, the clear bandage that wraps everything up and keeps it safe from your over eager hands.

“You did it.” Jungkook’s grinning at you, feet kicked up where he sits, his usual bag of Choco Boys balanced in his lap. “Big girl.”

From anyone else, it might sound condescending - might rub you the wrong way and have you glaring daggers. Instead, you take it in stride, beaming at him from your seat. He’s been there with you every step of the way, been there for every hour (seventeen over three months, to be exact) you’ve dedicated to finishing this beauty up. Tease you as he might, you know he really is proud of you.

“You mean we did it,” you return, giddy like a child.

“Ah, right.” The chocolate-covered snack he’s devouring goes crunch crunch crunch before he speaks, mouth still full, eyes crinkled. “I guess I did do all the work.”

“Hey! Screw you!” You’re glowering at him, middle finger raised in defiance.

(How curious that your relationship has grown like this, turned from tattoo artist and client to what feels like more. It probably makes sense, given the long hours you’ve spent together, the support he’s had to offer each time the pain has gotten this side of too much, chattering your teeth and dizzying your head. Solidarity in pain and all that.)

(You really had tapped out once, when he’d crept his gun into the ditch of your elbow. You’d asked him whether it’d hurt beforehand and he’d only laughed, shrugged off the question and continued with the careful shading to your inner arm. That in itself had hurt like a biiitch; you hadn’t thought it could get worse.)

(You’d been mistaken.)

“Am I wrong?” He drawls, full of laughter and that big dumb smile of his you’ve grown accustomed to. It eats up his cheeks and disappears his eyes, makes it hard to be mad at him when he looks so sweet.

“Yes, you are.” You’ve got absolutely nothing to back it up, but who cares. This is the sort of banter the two of you have developed, like two old friends forced to spend too much time together. (Not that you’d complain. You’ve loved hearing his stories, all the tales he regales you with whenever you’re in his chair.)

A snort is his answer, the full roll of his eyes over-exaggerated and playful. “You’re lucky we’re all finished or I’d sneak in an ugly fish somewhere on your arm.”

You think he’s kidding - know he takes too much pride in his work to do that.

Still, you stick your tongue out, hopping down from the bed with your freshly inked arm, hands clapping together in celebration. “You wouldn’t dare.” You’re confident, crossing to the bench to tug your flannel on, careful of the dull pain that throbs beneath the thin medical dressing.

“Wouldn’t I? I’m leaving anyway.”

You’re ready to call him out for it, insist he would never ruin the sanctity of his profession in such a way, when you realise the words he’s spoken, the casual tidbit he’s just dropped like it’s nothing.

“Leaving?”

(Is it you or do you sound disappointed? You can’t dwell on it for long, worried you’ll miss his explanation. Had he mentioned it previously? Slipped it in when you’d been delirious from pain? No, you would’ve remembered that. You swear you would’ve.)

“I’m moving to Tokyo.” How he’s so casual, you have absolutely no idea. You suppose it’s not a big deal for him - he’s not from here anyway. Home is back in Korea, the place he’d spent most of his life before moving to Japan and then here, just two years ago. (God, your memory is good. If only you’d retained knowledge like this when you were in school.) “My flight’s next weekend.”

Your face must be hilarious because Jungkook’s laughing, cackling like the evil villain in an anime.

“Gonna miss me?”

Would it be inappropriate to say yes? Because you will, you realise the moment he’s posed the question. You’ve grown to consider him a friend, someone who you send random memes to on Instagram (usually pertaining to #tattooartistproblems or one of your shared hobbies, like video games and finding the best noodle soup restaurant in the city).

You go for the safe bet, answering with a question of your own. “Are you gonna miss me?”

“I’ll miss your restaurant recs,” he answers, offering honesty to your reticence. “You can still send me funny photos though.”

You can’t help your laugh, the tiny quirk of your mouth into a smile. “I guess you’re right. Will you still be tattooing?” It’s an innocent enough question - you really do want to know. You can’t imagine going to anyone else, even if it means you’ll be shelling out an absurd amount of money for a plane ticket.

“Yep, new shop.” Something twinkles in his stare, has him giddy as he rises to his feet, tossing his empty packet of snacks into the trash bin. “Actually, where I got most of mine done.” You understand it then - that it’s a move of faith. He’s finally come full circle. You’re unbelievably happy for him, brimming with delight to mirror his pride.

But you’re still going to give him a little bit of a hard time because you have to. It wouldn’t feel right otherwise. “Whoa, big shot.”

“I am actually,” he sniffs, raking an ink-strewn hand through his hair. It’s longer now than it was when you met him, curling over the tops of his ears, hanging in his eyes at every turn. “You’ll be lucky if I remember you when I’m famous.”

“Famously lame, maybe,” you tease, slipping your bag over your shoulder. You busy yourself pulling your keys from the interior pocket, checking your phone as if you’re ready to go. It’s only when you’re standing in the hallway - you have no real intention of departing like this and he knows that, considering you haven’t paid yet - when you level him with a half-formed smirk. “But I guess I should take you for a drink?”

His hoodie is on before you know it, yanked over his head and tugged into place as he joins you. It’s become your regular routine - leaving together after your sessions, a perk of always booking the last slot he has available. (Not that you relied on that, but simply because your work schedule didn’t really allow for anything else.) “Obviously.”

Jeon Jungkook is a talented artist, a dedicated snacker, a lover of the colour black. You discover, sitting on the patio of the nearby bar, that he’s also really, really good at holding his liquor.

(Not that he’d ever indicated otherwise.)

“Do you think you’ll get anything else done?” He’s on his sixth pint, casually leaned back in his chair as he picks at the fries you’d ordered but that he seems perfectly happy to help himself to. (Payback for all the times he’s forced snacks on you maybe?) “Like, a face tattoo?”

You scoff at the question as if greatly offended. “You think I’d get a face tattoo?”

While a little glazed in the eyes, you can tell he’s altogether coherent, grinning across the table at you. “Hey, I don’t judge. You like making surprise decisions, so I wouldn’t be surprised.”

Okay, so he’s got you there. Used your own impulsive history against you. “I would never.”

“If you change your mind, do I get first dibs?”

“Dibs on what? Tattooing me?”

He nods as if it’s the most obvious answer in the world. “Duh.”

You can only roll your eyes, tossing a wayward burnt fry end at him. “Yes, Kook, you get first dibs on ruining my face.”

His expression twists, mouth shaping around words he’s keeping caged behind his teeth. There’s something he isn’t saying, a comeback he’s chosen to lock up. You wonder what it is.

“Hey - nothing wrong with face tattoos.”

“Really?” You’re leaning forward, a clear challenge written across your face. “Then why don’t you have one?” He has a million others as it is: a hand, nearly the entirety of both arms, his chest, his shoulders, one of his legs. (You haven’t seen them all in person but you have seen them online, memorialised on his Instagram feed.)

“And hide all this?” One inked hand is gesturing toward his own face, gesticulating wildly as if that’ll drive his point further home. “I would never.”

“That’s what I said!”

It doesn’t matter to him, not when he’s fully sober and most certainly not now, when he’s slightly buzzed, eyes glossier than usual. “But I’m cuter. It’d be a shame if it were me. You…” The way he trails off is suggestive, indicative of something mocking and mean. (Except it’s never cruel - far too friendly and soft to ever hurt your feelings.) “—not so much.”

Another fry hits him right between the eyes and then another disappears into the hood of his sweater, lost to the black fabric that bunches up around his neck and hides the flush he’s been battling since you two got to the bar an hour ago.

“Don’t be rude!”

He beams at you then, so unnecessarily endearing you can only throw one more piece at him.

“I’m kidding.” You knew that already but pretend to ignore the pseudo-apology, choosing instead to polish off the last of your now-cold fries. A bad choice, you realise when he continues, surprising you with the words that come out of his liquor-laden mouth so much so that you almost choke. “You’re actually pretty cute.”

(So what if you’ve sort of maybe been waiting to hear them? Wondering if the tiny crush you’d developed was in some way reciprocated?)

(Not that this meant it was. Only that you perhaps weren’t alone in thinking he was the most lovable - and somehow simultaneously hot - person you’d ever met. It’s almost rewarding to know the long hours together hadn’t left him unscathed.)

“You all good?” The look on his face is worse than that smile he usually offers, instead a devilish smirk that makes him look like Satan himself.

Were you? You’re not sure.

“I can’t believe you just said that.”

“Really? You can’t?” You’re not sure what that means, whether you’re simply reading too far into it. But then he’s dragging his bottom lip through his teeth, head cocked curiously. It’s a bait, you realise—and one you’ll gladly take.

“Should I have expected it?”

Shoulders hike, rising up around his ears. “I thought I made it sort of obvious.”

Had he? Thinking back on it, you can’t really recall. Of course, he’d always been friendly, indulging you in your pursuit of body art, sketching up the loveliest things you’d never even think to dream of; accepting your distracting Instagram messages without complaint, always tossing you a like or some sort of acknowledgement no matter what you’d send (and you’d send some random, random stuff). Chatting with him daily had just become the norm, conversation flowing freely whenever you’d pop in for your next session.

But that was just because he was a nice guy - or so you’d thought. You realise now how wrong you’d been, too occupied with your own crush to notice his (if it could be called that).

“You like me,” you hum, surprisingly nonchalant despite the little pitter patter in your chest, the flutter of your heart within your ribcage.

“I think you’re cute,” he retorts, though there’s no real weight to his rebuff. The two statements are really one and the same and you’re giddy with the knowledge, absolutely tickled pink.

Except for the fact that he’s leaving, fully prepared to start a new life in another city in just one week. The irony isn’t lost on you, like fate’s laughing even as she offers you this little crumb. (You feel like Oliver Twist, frankly.)

“Same difference.”

He huffs - you’re reminded of how adorable he is when he does that - and downs the lukewarm remainder of his beer. “I take it back.”

“No, you don’t.” Where the confidence comes from, who knows. You grip it tight with both hands though, hold it snugly as you level him with a stare that has his own unwavering. It’s almost as if you’re caught in a staring match, a battle of unspoken wits.

It drags on longer than it should, just the two of you locked to each other with nowhere to go.

Then he does the last thing you expect: shoves his chair aside and leans across the table, stealing a kiss and returning to his seat, all in the span of time it takes you to blink.

(His lips are so soft. A little chapped, a tiny bit dry, but soft - deceptively delicate. Bitter, touched with sea salt and something else distinctly him. French fries and beer and his Chapstick.)

(For the briefest moment, you wonder whether you’d just imagined it - if your imagination had truly gotten the best of you and you’ve absolutely lost your mind.)

“You just kissed me.” It seems like you’ve found your new favourite hobby of just repeating things, giving live play-by-plays like an awkward narrator in a romcom.

“Yeah, so?”

“You’re leaving.” Speaking the words into existence feels bad; you see the way his eyes tighten, the subtle sobering of his expression even while he tries to keep his cool.

“I am.” At least he’s realistic. It saves you from any uncertainty, keeping the what-ifs at bay.

You suppose it means you have nothing to lose.

“Do it again.”

And Jungkook does - over and over, sinking the taste of him almost as deeply as ink, offering a piece of himself you want to keep for just as long.

It takes you longer to add to your collection of art, nearly four whole years before you decide what you want next. (It’s a back piece this time - a full body suit from your shoulders down past your ass. Another cat, dressed in traditional Japanese clothing and surrounded by flowers. An ode to your first tattoo, to the one that had started it all.)

(You’re not sure you’re ready for the pain, though.)

“Lay down,” the artist instructs, back turned to you, busy preparing his materials. You’d stripped down while he was occupied, discarded all your clothes to the allocated basket and stood quietly in anticipation.

You do as he says, dropping atop the tattoo bed with a quiet oof. The stencil has already been laid, the entire outline ready to be inked into your skin. You can’t deny you’re more than a little nervous. It’s been years since you’d last gotten anything done, uninterested in finding a new artist since Jungkook had left.

(Which he had, exactly as he’d intended, gone on a 6 AM flight that you’d driven him to, teary-eyed and embarrassed. He’d laughed at you standing outside of the departure gate, his suitcase at his side, arms wrapped around your shoulders. You’d refused to show your face, burying it instead into the warmth of his neck, into the familiar scent of him that was going away for who knows how long.

“Stop being a baby,” he’d said, smothering you in kisses, the full weight of his laughter palpable through your close proximity. It'd rumbled out of his chest all the way into yours, finding a home behind your ribcage, right alongside where your heart fluttered, shaded blue and sad.

“Stop being mean,” you’d countered, petulant like a child.

It couldn’t be helped. You’d had only one week with him - one glorious, chaotic week filled with eating too much junk, rewatching your favourite animes, and generally making up for all the lost time you’d never even known there was. As amazing as it’d been, it still hadn’t prepared you for the goodbye.

That was your fault, though. You’d wrongly entertained the idea that maybe things would work out, that he’d change his mind or ask to take it - whatever you had, that is - with him, keep it going somehow. He hadn’t.)

“Do you have a preference where I start?” You’re unbothered, hair loosely knotted over your shoulder. Ready for the session to start - ready to feel the familiar sting again. (You’re proud of that. It might have taken you years and years but here you were, tackling something huge.)

“Nope.”

“Sounds good.”

The buzzing begins and pressure lands upon the small of your back, a gloved hand laid over the centre of your spine. You remind yourself to breathe in, out, focus on something other than the pain that fizzles over your skin and then ebbs into tenderness. Where he’s started - just above the fattiest part of your butt - isn’t too bad. Tolerable and yielding.

You can do this.

Your back aches in a different way than you’d anticipated, soreness buzzing beneath inflamed skin and making it uncomfortable to move around. It’s not any worse than your arm had been - the lines along your spine had felt comparable to that of your elbow - but it’s fresh, not dulled by years like your sleeve now was.

The artist is stripping his gloves off, your back neatly covered and the bed stripped of its original tissue paper. He’s leaned against the sink, onigiri held in his now-free hands, nibbling at the edge of the rice ball as you turn this way and that in the mirror. “You did good.”

You’re still undressed, admiring the linework from different angles, shimmying closer to your reflection to catch the lighter inking that makes up the undefined edges of the various florals. Something tells you that you should be shy - eager to redress after spending nearly five hours naked in the secluded studio - but you don’t care. Your back is quickly becoming a masterpiece, something that might as well be hung in the halls of the Louvre. You’re in love with it.

“Thanks.”

You mean thank you for his compliment but also for all his hard work, the long hours he’s put into bringing this beauty to life. It means so much - like progressing to the next level.

Which, you suppose it is. This is a fresh start for you. A new beginning in a new city.

“Proud of you,” he hums, suddenly close, broad palms searing heat over your hips. He’s careful to avoid the edge of the bandage that wraps your back and holds you delicately, like fine china or the most precious jewel in the world, lips sweet against your temple.

You meet his eyes in the mirror - the same sweet doe-eyed stare from five years ago. A little darker now, aged by the hand of time but endlessly kind, shining beneath the overhead lights.

“Proud of you,” you chirp, identical smiles spreading over your faces.

Jungkook’s having none of it though, bratty as usual. “Proud of us.”

You suppose you can settle for that. You really are proud of the two of you - for how far you’ve made it and all the obstacles you’ve overcome. From the first few weeks of sadness, all the melancholy that’d set in when he’d left, to exactly one month after, when he’d called you in the middle of the night, drunk and stumbling home.

(It’d been infuriating at the time - incoherent and foolish as he was - but it’d bloomed something between you, something neither of you could ignore.)

Four years of miserable long distance had become this: a love that's brought you back to his side, to a city you’re unfamiliar with but that he calls home; to a city that never sleeps, loud with pachinko machines and some of the best food you’ve ever had; to the place you’ve been missing every minute you were apart.

You’d never thought you would move for someone, uproot your entire life for a relationship, but he’d changed that. Made it worth it in ways you had never considered. Convinced you more and more with each trip you’d taken, two visits twice a year, for a measly two weeks at a time.

“Should we head home?” He means your physical home - the apartment the two of you had decided on in Roppongi, the one you haven’t seen yet, that he’s had to move into all by himself. It’s not quite as nice as the home in his arms.

You say yes anyway.

“I’m so talented.” The words come entirely too whole for your liking, loud somewhere above your head.

“Are you serious?” You’re levelling your boyfriend with the most incredulous look, whole face scrunched up, hands fisted into his dark sheets. It’s uncomfortable at this angle - kinking your neck as you look over your shoulder - but you really can’t believe he’s just said that. He’s knelt between your legs, knees spread wide around his own, his hand halfway up your back and tracking heat over your spine.

Somehow, he has the audacity to look surprised. “What?”

“You’re really patting yourself on the back right now?” Now, when he should be pounding you into oblivion, working that big fat cock of his through your fluttering walls, making you moan his name into his pillows like it’s his only job?

(It truthfully could be. You’d rank his skills in the bedroom on par with his skills in the studio.)

“Oh.” All at once, he’s the devil - sin personified. Or would be, if he didn’t somehow still look infuriatingly cute.

The gentle touch turns bruising, heel of his palm pressed hard into the tender notches of your spine. “You don’t like when I admire my own work?” Asked as he shifts behind you, length dragging out of your dripping cunt to gently tap against your aching clit. The head of it glides through your folds, mercilessly teasing but never slipping back in, never filling you whole like you need. (Because you really do need it. You haven’t seen him in six months, left to your own devices - literally.) It feels like heaven and hell, too good and not nearly enough all at once.

“Kook,” you snap. Try to, anyway, his name far too whiny and breathless to hold any real weight.

“I’m just admiring you, sweetheart.” He’s dragging the hand over your back, tracing all the lines he’s embedded into your skin. They make up his favourite piece, inked permanently into his favourite canvas. A testament to his hard work, his dedication, his love.

Any other time, you might not care. Here and now, after not having felt his touch in what feels like forever, you’re burning from the inside out, a million volts of electricity tripping your circuits. When you speak, it’s more a plea than a reprimand, uttered so sweetly you know he can’t deny you. “Admire me later.”

“I’ve missed you” is his only answer, punctuated by a fluid roll of his hips, the heavy press of his cock back into your dripping cunt. “I’ve missed this,” he breathes out, sinking all the way in, so slow you can feel every ridge and vein as he fills you.

“Missed you too,” you parrot back, a little delirious now that you’ve gotten what you want.

Now that he’s right where he should be - with you.

tag list. @neverthefirstchoice @youwannabelostandnotbefound @snackhobi @codeinebelle @xjoonchildx

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theepisceswriter · 3 years

Text

Caught/Nearly caught having sex in public w/ AOT characters ( Eren, Reiner, Armin, )

A/N: I’m going through the final stage of grief after reading ch 139 and that stage is horniness so now I’m bestowing that upon all of you. Shoutout to my faithful stoned thot anon for requesting this !

Synopsis: I think the title is pretty self explanatory, but having sex in public with your partner and getting caught, or nearly getting caught, by someone.

TW: typos because once again I don’t proof read, fembodied!reader, public sex obviously, mature things,, breeding kink for Reiner , voyeurism (is that what it’s called? Idk!) for Armin, 18+, MINORS DNI

EREN JAEGER: At the club

Only Eren could convince you to even step foot into a public, let alone a CLUB, restroom. Only he could convince you to sit on the seat of a toilet that he shittily put a protect film over and watched as he knelt on the seemingly clean floor, head disappearing underneath your dress and long locks leaking through the bottom hem of your dress as he worked your underwear off. Don’t get it wrong, you were just as aroused and worked up as he was. The slow whine of his body against yours on the dance floor had you going crazy, mind hazy with lust and everyone else around you disappearing but you, him, and the sensual sensation of your arms roaming each other’s body.

If you were able to you would’ve let him take you right then and there in the middle of the floor in front of all those people. The thought of your knees scraping against the tiled floor with each thrust of Eren’s hips behind you as you clutched the bottom of your dress for support, everyone stopping and staring to watch the show you two were putting on, really made an abundance of wetness cumulate against the top of your thighs closest to your cunt. Because, of course, an ending with his cock stuffing you full was never inevitable whenever the two of you went on date nights.

“I have you trained so good that you don’t even wrest underwear anymore when you go out with me? God, you’re so desperate for me baby it’s almost pathetic.” He would speak from underneath your dress, blowing the warm breath of his mouth against your clit, enjoying the way your hips bucked up against him out of want and he hadn’t even given you his tongue yet. Finally, he indulges you; the warmth of his tongue mixed with the occasional shocks of coldness from the metallic stud in his tongue has you forgetting that you’re in a public area for a moment.

You use your teeth to try and hold in your moans, biting them back just incase anyone else is lingering outside the door of the bathroom or in one of the other stalls. But the loud slurping coming from Eren is enough to let anybody know what’s going on. Still, you couldn’t bring yourself to do it. Too embarrassed at the thought of someone walking in on you like this; cheeks flushed, dress hiked up around your thighs, and your breasts barely restrained by your dress.

“If you keep biting back your moans I will stop completely and leave you in this bathroom to take care of yourself.” As if his words weren’t enough encouragement to finally get you moaning out his name, the feeling of his long index and middle finger slipping into you definitely made a surprised gasp leave your lips. His name falling from your lips soon after.

“Yeah, that’s it baby. Let them know who’s in this stall making you feel this good.”

Too good because even if you wanted to try you couldn’t hold your moans back anymore. That familiar coil in your stomach was getting tighter and tighter with each thrust of his fingers and it only encouraged Eren to move them faster, tongue continuing to lick long stripes up your clit. This bathroom stall was your heaven right now.

“I’m so close, I’m so close, I’m so-“

“Oh my god, I’m so sorry!”

And just like that your orgasm was ruined. An innocent girl looking to release the drinks that have been building up in her uterus just had to be the one to walk in on you two. Not to mention the fact that Eren never locked the fucking door of the bathroom. He gets from under your dress immediately, cheeks and chin covered with your juices and his eyes filled with remorse. “I’m sorry, babe. I was too caught up in the moment to lock the door when we first got in here.”

That did nothing to help with your embarrassment.

REINER BRAUN: In a public pool

Did you guys know that having sex in a pool or hot tub increases your chances of getting pregnant? Because Reiner the breeder absolutely knew that and it’s exactly what his mind went to after only a couple minutes of being in the jacuzzi with you. It was supposed to be a relaxing late night date night for the two of you, but now he had other plans.

His mind was already swimming with thoughts of you bouncing on his cock up and down the moment he saw you in your swimsuit, so this random thought popping into his head only added fire to the fuel. He was hungry for you and the way he swooped you into his arms and placed you on his lap, bulge poking out against your ass, let you know exactly what he was thinking.

“Babe, there’s people in the apartments surrounding us!”

“They’re not paying any attention to us. Please, I need to feel you so bad right now. It’ll be quick plus it’s like 10 at night 🥺” There’s no resisting those hazel hues once he pulled out those puppy dog eyes and though you didn’t want to admit it, there was something thrilling about the thought of one of your neighbors glancing out of their windows to look at the night sky; only to see you getting pounded behind by Reiner in the jacuzzi at the public pool.

You didn’t even need to give him any verbal confirmation. You did your talking through your actions, reaching behind you and pulling the fabric of your bikini bottoms to the side. The tip of his cock already pressing at your entrance and entering you with ease with help from the water surrounding the two of you. Everything felt so warm and relaxing, even the bubbles from the hot tub surrounding your clit added a new sensation that had your eyes rolling to the back of your head.

Reiner was on cloud nine his own Damn self, hips snapping up against yours at a pace that had him groaning with each thrust. The thought of his seed filling you in no time, let alone in a public place like this, really getting him going. Water splashing around the two of you from the force of this thrusts.

“Fuck, my load is going to be so big I can feel it already and you’re going to get every last drop of it deep inside of you. Going to make you so nice and plump in a couple of months. You want a Braun? I’ll give you however many you want.”

He really knew what to say, his words always coaxing you into your orgasm and a state of pleasure that you were positive was on the borderline of subspace. Sex with Reiner was an otherworldly experience on its own, but the effects that this hot tub had on the two of you and the possibility of someone watching from their window had the two of you approaching your orgasms faster than expected. Reiner was the first one to reach his. His load emptying inside of you like promised and your plush walls gripping at his twitching cock, milking him for all he had as your orgasm followed his only seconds later.

Per usual, the two of you remained in the position instead of pulling out immediately to reserve the cum inside of you like Reiner always liked to do. Just basking in that afterglow of sex and the relaxing waves of the hot tub.

It was the rattling of a flashlight against bars that brought the two of you out of your tranquil states and let the reminder that the two of you were still in public relish in. You moved off of him at the speed of light and adjusted your bikini so you were covered up once more. One glance over at Reiner and you saw him stuffing himself back into his swim trunks before diverting his attention over to the gate like you.

“The pool is closed. You two need to leave.”

“S-Sorry! We’ll be on our way!” You announced with red cheeks, hopping out of the water despite the wobbly feeling in your legs, Reiner following not too far behind.

Definitely not the last time the two of you were having jacuzzi sex.

ARMIN ARLET: between the shelves at the library

When you first met your blonde haired blue eyed boyfriend you never expected him to be as freaky as he was. You expected him to be shy, quiet, and wanting you to take the lead 90% of the time but it was nothing like that. It was like he switched to a completely different Armin when he got in the mood and you don’t know which one he switch to today, but you hoped to see more of the Armin who suggested that the two of you fuck between bookshelves in the library.

Now here you were; skirt bunched up around your thighs, shirt & bra both pulled down so Armin could stuff one of your nipples into his mouth to muffle his moans against, and your thighs slapping against his bare ones as you rode him on the floor of the Greek Mythology and Norse section. His hips bucking and rolling up into yours in a way that he knew made you whimper and whine, a teasing gesture knowing that you couldn’t do any of those two things right now. But still you took your chance and let out a muffled whimper, making his eyes go wide and mouth popping off of your nipple in an instant. His hand is quick to go over your mouth with a roughness that keeps you from letting out a breath that was too loud.

He couldn’t even whisper in your ear to mess with you like he wanted to, nor could either of you move your hips too fast and cause a lot of noise because you could hear a penny drop in this library. It was a Friday night which meant hardly anyone was in it, but still a few people were scattered out along in the medium sized building. Not to mention the nosey librarian who always spies on you two when you were in her view. All you could do was throw your head back in pleasure, hips rolling down harder into his to heighten the pleasure you were already feeling.

It was the rough padding of Armin’s thumb on your clit that sent your eyes shooting open and once they did you were met with the sight that you would never expect; a peeping Tom looking at the two of you from gaps that they had created in the bookshelf surrounding you two purposefully. With a loud gasp you hurried off of Armin, pulling your shirt up and adjusting your skirt with a quickness that had him confused and scared.

“Did I do something you didn’t like? I-I’m sorry I should’ve asked before I touched your clit.” Poor baby thinks it’s something that he did, but you’re quick to tell him about the unwarranted peeping Tom that gave you the creeps that had since disappeared. He was livid, ready to go after the man and possibly swing a punch or two his way, but it was your reminding of him that the two of you were indeed in a public place and couldn’t do much about it that calmed him down. Plus, you wouldn’t admit it out loud but the thought of someone watching the two of you that whole time kind of turned you on even more.

#I envision the peeping Tom for the Armin one to be Bertholdt just because #aot x reader #attack on titan x reader #aot imagines #aot smut #attack on titan smut #eren jaeger x reader #eren jaeger smut #reiner braun x reader #reiner braun smut #armin arlet smut #armin arlet x reader #Spicy.

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