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calumfmu · 2 months

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spread thin

Summary: You and Steve have been best friends for the entirety of your lives, always platonic and nothing more. As graduation approaches, you find yourself wishing that something would come out of this decades-long relationship. During a recurring Friday movie night, you confess your feelings to him, not realizing the man had felt the same way the entire time.

cw: 18+, mdni, smut, fem!reader, she/her pronouns, AFAB reader, unprotected sex, fingering, creampie

2.9k+ words

The boy in front of you was beautiful. He was everything that you had pictured in a man, yet nothing of the sort that you imagined yourself to be with. He was handsome, charismatic, funny-- every good thing that could come with a boy.

But he wasn't yours.

Steve was everything and everyones before the label of yours could be applied.

"yn?"

His voice sounded throughout the fluorescent room, it's white walls allowing you to be caught in the midst of your thoughts. You met his eyes, his dark brown searching for clarification in the color of your own.

"Sorry, just..." your hands tightened around the broom, glancing down at the foot of tile you hadn't realized you were sweeping repeatedly for the last ten minutes. "A lot on my mind, graduation and all."

He stood there for a second, nodding as his hands graced the cash register in front of him. He had a hint of something on his face, something you couldn't recognize from his normal expressions. He suddenly shrugged, shaking his head to himself as he paid attention to the machine.

"Well... I'm just about done here," he supplied before closing the drawer. "Whenever you're done, I was thinking that we could head to mine? Movie night, drinks?"

You nodded, smile tugging at the corners of your mouth. This was normal between the two of you. You have been best friends since kindergarten, it was always SteveandYn and YnandSteve.

He smiled back at you, walking around the corner.

"Well, let's get out of here, then." He took the broom from your hands, placing it in its respective supply closet. "I found a copy of that new horror movie on VHS, and you're going to love it."

As you two closed up shop, you made your way through the mall. His car was parked in the back of the lot, giving you ample time to think of what had been plaguing your mind lately. These feelings for Steve hadn't came out of nowhere, they had been building for the last couple of years as he became more popular. King Steve as they called him. You held back the eye roll of the remark, knowing that people didn't understand the true character of the man.

Calling him something like that only emphasized his woman-user ways, but did not touch on the sweetness he had to him. He was painted as a player, someone that did not care about women. Deep down, you knew that wasn't true.

His shoulder bumped into yours, shaking you of your thoughts. Steve opened the passenger door, holding his hand out as he did a faux bow.

"M'lady."

Giggling, you rolled your eyes and settled in the car as he made his way over to the driver's seat. As he got situated and started the vehicle, he glanced over at you.

"What's going on? You've been so... distant lately."

Sighing, you turned your head towards the window.

"'S nothing, Steve."

He pulled out into the main road, leaving the mall further and further into the distance. "You've been so weird, it can't be nothing."

"I'm fine." You smiled through your teeth, covering the true gnawing at your heart that plagues you. He spared a glance in your direction, huffing as he knew you were lying.

"Sure."

The rest of the car ride was quiet, only the sounds of the radio quietly buzzing some song in the background. Steve tapped his fingers to the beat as you focused on the drive in front of you, cars passing as he made his way to his house. With every block, the dim street lights hit your face, exposing more and more of the true emotional state that you were in. It was becoming too much to hide now.

You hadn't noticed as he pulled into his driveway, a dark house with no one home in front of it. Your passenger door suddenly opening startled you.

"Jesus, Steve," you mumbled, getting out as you smoothed down your work uniform. "Give a girl a warning, yeah?"

"Oh, quiet. 'S not like you would've heard it anyways," he had a grumpiness to his voice, something that only confused you even more. What was wrong with him?

You followed him through the front door, lights turning on as he made his way to the kitchen. A beer was placed in your hand, and you looked down to inspect it. The cheap kind, PBR. So it was going to be one of those nights.

Steve loosened the collar of his uniform, letting it hang open as he cracked open his own drink. He was still staring at you, as you leaned against the counter.

"You're really not going to tell me?" His brown eyes were huge at this point, his bottom lip jutting out as he pouted in your direction. "Please, yn?"

You took a swig, grimacing at the bitter taste of the beverage.

"'M just stressed about graduation," you answered, twirling your drink around as you focused on the exposed part of his chest. A tuft of hair poked out there, you imagined what it would feel like between your fingers.

"What about it?"

You broke the focus, walking closer to him so you could take a seat on the counter beside him. He turned his body towards you, forearms leaning on the white tile as he looked up into your eyes. This angle allowed you to see into the deep brown of his irises, the overhead light hitting in a way that made your breath catch in your throat. They were the same eyes you remember from childhood, his long lashes that framed them always so right.

You took another sip of the drink in your hand, thumb playing with the tab at the top of the aluminum. His hand reached out, touching the top of your thigh where your navy blue shorts ended.

Nervousness settled over you as his thumb began to rub small circles on the exposed skin.

"Come on, you could tell me. Anything, remember?"

The look in his eyes and his begging was hard to resist. You had always told Steve your secrets, your worries, no matter how ridiculous they seemed to be.

You sighed, ready to let this burden off of your chest. Now or never, yn, what's the worst that could happen?

"I'm just worried about what's coming next," you said, finishing off your drink this time. The empty can hit the tile next to you, ringing throughout the kitchen. "Things changing, people growing, leaving."

His brow furrowed, confusion crossing hit features. He stood up, settling in closer to you. His eye level was right below yours this time. You could smell his cologne mixed in with the faint smell of ice cream. So enticing, yet you had to ignore it.

"Are you talking about us?" His hand left your thigh, moving to place his hands on either side of your waist. His waist sat in front of your crossed knees, body leaning slightly as he looked into your eyes. Heat settled into your core, your body reacting to the proximity of him between your legs. "You know, nothing's ever going to change between us. We've always been best friends, always will be."

And there it is. The pit of your stomach gnawing as that realization settled over you. Best friends.

A familiar sting hit your eyes as you began to blink it away. You thought you were being inconspicuous, but he noticed.

"Hey, hey, hey." His voice was a whisper now as he stepped closer, pushing your thighs apart. His hand reached up to touch the side of your cheek, thumb brushing under your eye.

Concern was etched all over his features. He searched your eyes for an explanation, his calloused hands rubbing over the delicate skin of your face. He was so close now, you could lean in and kiss him. Feel the true pout of his lips against yours.

"...Steve," you muttered, shaking your head. "I was just hoping tha- you know, what, nevermind."

He was patient, waiting for your words to come out as the two of you sat in silence. Your mind was racing, thoughts of King Steve with a million other girls floating around. Why tell him when he can whoever? You've been friends for years, why would he want to hear this now when there has been years where something could have happened.

"Tell me."

You sighed, taking a deep breath as you closed your eyes. It was easier to think with them shut, the beautiful boy in front of you no longer being a distraction.

"I was hoping things would stay the same between us," you blurted out. Your heart was racing, word vomit on the tip of your tongue. "Things would stay the same in college, but I know they won't because you're going to be focused on the next interesting person, the next beautiful girl who's not me and is so much better than me."

He didn't answer, but you felt his hand leave the side of your face. The pit at the bottom of your stomach growing more. You kept your eyes closed, finding comfort in the darkness.

You chose to continue, "I just hear everyone talking about King Steve this and King Steve that, and I just can't help but think about how much worse it will be once you're no longer forced to be friends with me."

Suddenly, you felt a mouth on yours, slightly chapped lips brushing against yours quickly. Your eyes flew open, staring at the boy in front of you.

Steve had a smile on his face, eyes drifting over your shocked face. Your mouth opened and close as you find yourself at a loss of words. You found the words, a single syllable escaping your lips before he shushed you.

His hand returned to his cheek as his lips found yours again, moving with a fever that was missing previously. He seemed more urgent, needy in this moment as his hands began to explore your body.

Before you knew it, your legs were opening wider, inviting his body even closer to your core. You felt drunk, despite the single drink running through your veins. It was intoxicating, feeling his mouth against yours and his fingers in your hair.

Is this real life? You couldn't help but think you were imagining it all.

Steve breaks the kiss, fingers dancing at the bottom of your shirt, threatening to lift the hem there.

"Can I-?" He began to lift it as you nodded vehemently, lifting your arms. It came off your frame, exposing you in your white bra. The cool air hit your body, quickly replaced with the heat of his body.

His lips finds your jaw, slopping making his way down your neck. Pants escape your mouth, your vision becoming blurred as his fingers find your waistline. His thumb dipped into the band of your pants, teasing to expose your edge of your panties.

"S-steve, please."

All you saw was a flash of his hair as you were pushed back slightly, the pants beginning to slip down your hips. You adjusted the way you were sitting, allowing Steve the ease to free you of the restriction. He leaned down slightly, placing sloppy, open mouth kisses to your chest bone, hands returning to their residence of your hips.

You placed a hand in his hair, pulling him back up to meet your lips. He smiled through the kiss, nipping at your bottom lip. Your legs wrapped around his waist, bringing him even closer as you felt his bulge rub against your heat.

You muttered a fuck as he began to rub against you, cock hard against the restriction of his own pants.

"Want more, baby?" He whispered, hand coming up to grab at your breast, squeezing in all the right places. You threw your head back in ecstacy, hips shooting up to rub against him even further. Your hands found his own waistline, pulling as you struggled to get them off.

"Patience now, my love."

His sweet words made you ache even more, grinding your heat against the shape of his cock. The free hand remaining on your hip moved, brushing over the wet spot you were making in your panties. A small shout escaped you, nerves throbbing at the feeling of his thumb brushing against your clit over the thin cloth.

You looked at him, all his glory as he stared hungrily down at your panties. This thumb was brushing over your clit through your underwear, watching as the wet spot increased.

"Is it that, baby," he breathed, glancing up at your spent face. Nodding, you spread your legs further, mewling as his index finger dipped them to the side. He brushed over your fluttering hole, paying attention to the way you arched your back.

Eyes closing involuntarily, your breath hitched as you felt his two of his fingers playing at your entrance. Your thoughts jumbled, focusing only on the feeling of his digits slowly pushing in. You mewled, white heat crossing over your body as they pushed in further, beginning to slowly pumping in and out of you.

"Fuck Steve, m-more." You couldn't hold back anymore, your hand reached up to grab his at your breast. Blinking your eyes slowly, you stared into his hooded ones, watching as he removed himself from you. He fumbled at his waistline, pushing his pants low enough to free his cock, swollen and dripping with need.

You reached out to it, pulling him closer. Your lips met again, a desperate connection of the moment as his fingers rake through your hair. He tasted like spearmint and the remnants of his beer, breath heavy against yours as his cock rubbed against your center.

He pushed your white panties to the side, his cock in hand as it rubbed against your wet entrance. You couldn't get enough, arching your hips so you could feel him closer, hard and firm.

He guided himself within you, stretching you wide. You couldn't tell if it was him or you at this point, throbbing with desperation as your hips bucked wanting to feel him closer.

Steve stopped at the hilt, hips flush against yours as your legs locked behind his thighs.

"Good?" He asked, breath heavy at this point and words incoherent. He went back and forth between squeezing his eyes shut and trying to stare into yours. Your tightness throbbed around him, clouding his thoughts with the feeling of wanting to take you fast and rough.

"Yes, baby, more."

You pulled him even closer to you, the hook of your ankle rubbing against his pants bunched up at his thigh. Only now did you realize, he was still wearing his uniform, wrinkled and bunched up, exposing only his groin and the bottom of his stomach. The desperation of this moment fueling him to see you in your glory, wanting to have access to you as fast as possible. You watched as he reared his hips back only to push into you once more, slowly but feverish in their movement.

He began to roll his hips, urging moans and pants out of your mouth. He kisses them away, swallowing them as you become louder with each thrust of his hips. The pleasure fills your body, drawing you closer and closer towards that breaking point as his hips continue.

His hands are at your hips, fingers gripping your ass as you sit on the counter, sliding back and forth with each movement he makes. His nails leave little half moon marks as his knuckles grow white, fucking into you relentlessly.

Ah, fuck and yes, baby and you like that escapes his mouth, mouth agape as he watches you unfold in his grasp.

You're almost pissed off at him, at yourself, for not doing this sooner. But the thought escapes your mind, the feeling of euphoria dripping over you as he brushes over something deep inside you. Shock waves took over you as a white heat came over you, exploding and tingling throughout your spine.

Your mind was clouded as you rode through the shock waves, pulsing around him as he thrusted deeper, closer towards his own peak. A low, guttural noise escaped him as you felt him release deep inside. His chest heaves as he rides through it, burying his face into your shoulder. A bite mark was left in its place, the feeling of stickiness between your thighs as he slowly pulled out of you, leaving you with a small moan.

He brushed over your slit one more time, over stimulation coursing through you with a small yelp.

Steve's face was buried into your shoulder, nipping and kissing at the bitten skin there as the two of you struggled to catch your breath. His skin was slightly damp from the high, his chest rising and falling against yours.

"Can I tell you something, yn?" His voice was in a whisper.

You nodded, losing all words. He chuckled, leaning his head back so he could look you in your eyes.

"I knew you felt that way," he supplied, coy smile on his face. Your eyes widened as you hit his chest, laugh erupting out of him. "I felt the same."

"Steve!"

"I was just waiting for you to make the first move. I can't be King Steve when I'm with you."

#steve harrington #steve harrington x reader #fanfic #steve x reader #steve harrington x you #drabble turned fic #my writing #I've been thinking how much I love this man #and I had to put it down in words #hope you enjoy #kisses

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macfrog · 9 months

Text

rack 'em

the girlies watched triple frontier last week and it was the single most inspiring thing i have ever seen so here’s a lil frankie fic to cleanse my mind. dedicated to my babies @gracieispunk (who put this concept in my head for the wee laddies), @hellishjoel & @strang3lov3 🤍

pairing: bbf!frankie morales x f!reader

summary: when your parents ask you to housesit for them, you take the opportunity to spend some quality time back in your hometown, hanging with your older brother and...getting reacquainted with his best friend

warnings: 18+ (minors dni!!!) reader is santiago's younger sister, she and frankie do not get along, teasing & touching, dubcon (reader is a little drunk, frankie is not), oral sex (f receiving), alcohol consumption, quick mention of dr*gs, cursing, frankie's a bit of a dick but reader gives as good as she gets

word count: 6.1k (cause apparently i don’t know how to write short fics 🤪)

main masterlist

When you were four, a new family moved in across the street. Nobody knew them – your mom spent two straight days trying to scoop for information. Who they were, where they’d moved from, what was with the banged-up Ford pickup they drove. Nobody knew a thing.

You didn’t take much interest, being four years old – two months shy of your fifth birthday, by the way – and too invested in whatever politics a woman of your age finds herself wrapped up in, but you noticed one key thing about them.

The mom had tattoos.

Two full sleeves. Colorful ones, too. A bright red heart on her shoulder, a green snake wrapped around her forearm – among others. It was fucking cool, alright? No matter how much your mom whispered to Ms. Teller over the fence about them.

One night, when you were supposed to be in bed, you snuck out of your room and crossed the landing to your brother’s. Santiago and his friends were all staying at Tom’s, and you knew that in his desk he had permanent markers. You clicked the door open, as quiet as you could, and crept over his matted carpet to the drawer. You took one Sharpie, and spent the night adding snakes and hearts and whatever else came to mind to your Barbies’ arms, legs, faces, necks.

They looked fucking awesome. Just like that mom across the street.

But somehow or other – and I’m not blaming anyone – the next morning, a drawing appeared on the bathroom wall. In Sharpie. Your mom hit the roof.

As soon as Santi got home, she dragged him by the ear into the bathroom and pointed a trembling finger at the drawing. You forget what it was – it’s been years, and you were never much of an artist.

His plea of innocence helped him none; she knew he owned Sharpies, knew he sucked just as bad as you did at drawing, and he was grounded for three whole weeks. No soccer practice, no TV, no PlayStation. Which, at thirteen, is basically a stint in Rikers.

Your brother, though…he was always better than your mom at reading your mind. He saw the guilt on your face plain as the black marker behind the toilet tank. He cornered you in your bedroom as soon as she went back downstairs, and established three key rules going forward.

One: do not enter his room ever again.

Two: no touching his stuff.

And three: anytime he took the fall for you, you owed him. Big time.

You’ve followed the rules ever since. You barely knew what the inside of his room looked like, growing up. But it worked, ‘cause ever since the Sharpie incident of ’99, you two remained closer than most siblings with an eight-year age gap.

So, now, two days into a two-week stay back in your hometown to housesit while your parents head off on a cruise to celebrate their anniversary, you’re in the car with him. Listening to music, bitching about your mom, arguing over the best Cola flavor.

It’s like old times.

“She said, How’s my baby girl?” you yell over Stevie Nicks’s voice, reading from your phone.“And when I said I’m fine, she said, No, I meant the dog. Is she fucking serious?”

Santiago’s head tilts back with laughter, dark curls nudging against the headrest. He’s driving you to Lucky’s, a local sports bar he and his buddies frequent. He promised when he picked you up at the airport he’d take you out, get you drunk, and he was holding to it.

You pull your legs down off the dash as he turns into the parking lot, pulling in right under the white fluorescent sign, four-leaf clover flashing under it.

“She’s looking forward to seeing you when they get back,” he tells you, switching the engine off.

“Oh, yeah? That why she didn’t even hang around to see me before they left?”

He hands you a smug grin, shrugging his shoulders. “Can’t have it all, big shot. You move a thousand miles away, you forfeit your chance of being the favorite.”

You swing your door open and hop out, chasing him around the car to follow him inside. “You say that like I was ever in the fucking running.”

He snorts, pushing the door open, and a loud cheer roars through the bar. You blush as you follow your brother across the room to two tables full of familiar faces.

“Hey, baby.” Your best friend’s arms pull you in, her gold hoop earrings cold against your cheek. She smells like rose and cedarwood.

“Mal,” you hum, smiling as she pulls away.

“My mom said your parents only just made it on board,” she says, detaching strands of her long, black hair from the cuff of your jacket. “Said they had a flat tire and had to race to get to the boat.”

Your head jerks back. “She never told me any of that. Just asked how Ange was.”

Mal snorts.

“Hey, lil Santi!”

You glance over your shoulder to watch as Benny Miller stalks over, almost shoving some old guy off his feet, arms wide open, wide grin spread across his lips. His brother, Will, follows behind, and gives your shoulder a loving slap when Benny pulls you in for a hug.

“How’s Boston treatin’ ya?”

“Good,” you reply. “How’s…MMA treating you?”

“Good!” he echoes, eyebrows almost reaching his hairline.

It’s kinda part of the deal that your older brother’s friends become brothers in their own right to you, especially when you’re as young and easily-influenced as you were. They used to use you in their elaborate plans – send you in as a distraction while they filled their pockets with food at parties, or use your smaller stature to their advantage when attempting to break into places they shouldn’t.

By the time you were old enough to follow their orders, they were well into their teens. Which is basically grown-up, as far as six-year-old you was concerned. They were always allowed to do things you’re still not sure your mom would permit you to do at twenty-eight, like disappear all day without checking in, or come home black and blue after an organized street brawl with the boys from the other side of the neighborhood.

But there was no denying they cared about you. Will, Benny, and Tom, at least. They showed their affection by ruffling your hair as they passed, or sneaking you candy under the table even after your mom had told you you’d had enough. They’d christened you ‘lil Santi’, a name that – despite the embarrassment it always casts over you anytime you hear it – still sticks to this day.

Your brother’s friends were family to him, and, by extension, family to you.

Well. All but one.

Frankie Morales – nickname Catfish: long-time best buddy of your big brother, and long-time fucking asshole. There isn’t one thing on Earth that you two see eye to eye on, except for that very fact: he hates you almost as much as you hate him.

Always have, always will.

He’s in trouble almost regularly for drug-related stuff you don’t bother asking Santiago about. You don’t need to hear details to know he’s a pain in the ass. He’s been antagonizing you for as long as you’ve known him – where the others ruffled your hair, he’d shove into your shoulder as he passed, sending you – and whatever you were holding – flying. Any attempt you made at conversation with any one of them resulted in an argument between you and Frankie.

You hated him. Fucking hated him.

And tonight, you almost think yourself lucky. Almost go over to thank Santi for not inviting him, when you notice the silhouette of his baseball cap and that denim button up hunched over in a bar stool, and your eyes narrow.

You can’t help yourself. It’s been a years-long feud. And you’re old enough to take him on now. So, you stride over.

“You here to poison my drink?”

“What?” he asks, shaking his head. Already exasperated just by the sight of you.

“I bet you cheered the loudest when I walked in.”

He shrugs. “Cheered when your brother gave me fifty bucks to show face.”

Your upper lip curls. When the bartender notices you standing, elbows propped on the bar, he leans over.

“Beer, please.” Your smile twists into a grimace when you catch Frankie watching you. “What are you doing here? You have to be the person least excited to see me home.”

“I told you,” he says, lifting the bottle to his lips, “I’m bein’ paid.”

“Alright, so what do I gotta pay you to make you leave?”

Frankie scoffs, opens his mouth to answer what you’re sure is a comment laced with just as much venom, when Will’s strong arms slap down on each of your shoulders.

“We buyin’ our favorite veterinary nurse a drink, Francisco?”

You take your beer from Nick’s outstretched hand, sliding him the cash in return, and hold it up to Will in reply. “I’m good, thanks. Wouldn’t wanna eat into that fifty bucks, Catfish,” you mutter, turning to wander off.

You weave in and out of bodies, making your way to the opposite side of the bar where the pool tables sit. Doused in the warm strip light over the green felt, Santi chalks his cue ready to play against Mal, who’s already lining up her shot.

You hop up on a stool right next to the table, glancing back over to the bar where Frankie sits, now turned to face your direction. His elbow sits on the wooden surface, head turns from the football game showing behind the bar, over to you. And when he sees you looking, turns back to the TV screen, cool expression never changing.

“You done?” Mal asks Santiago, feeding the cue through her ring-decorated fingers.

He nods, tossing the chalk back over to you. “Better get your purse out, Bennett. Lotta sober people in here, all gonna want a free drink once you lose.”

“As if,” she breathes, and breaks the rack.

Somewhere throughout the game – a grueling and controversial one, by all accounts – Frankie makes his way over, following Will. You’re thankful when he plants himself on the other side of the table, one hand in his jeans pocket, the other around a bottle of beer. Though the light only comes up to his chest, right where the last button is done up, you notice him looking. Every fucking glance.

It pisses you off. Not the glancing. The way it makes you feel having him watch you. Wherever it comes from, you swallow it down with one big gulp of alcohol.

The game ends in a questionable loss. This side of the table swears the white skimmed off of Mal’s final solid when Santi hit it, right before it potted the black. The other side objected, claimed it was a clean shot ‘n you all know it. A winner wasn’t officially announced, but, being that Mallory Bennett is a force of nature where her competitive nature is concerned, Santiago was forced to buy the loser’s round.

She saunters up to you with her free whiskey in her hand, silver jewelry clinking off of the cold glass.

“Proud of yourself?” you ask, smirking.

She hands you your third beer of the night, sweeping her silky hair out of her face. “It hit it, alright? I saw it move.”

“Was that before or after you nudged the table?”

Mal holds a finger to her lips. You swat her hand away and the pair of you giggle, leaning into each other like schoolgirls whispering secrets in the playground.

“You know something,” Santiago materializes over Mal’s shoulder, shaking his head, “if you gotta cheat to beat me, I’ll give you the win.”

“Oh, get out,” you throw back. “Don’t blame her for your bad aim. Ms. Teller could’ve hit that shot and she’s got cataracts in both eyes.”

Your brother nods at you, tongue in his cheek. “Alright, smartass. Grab a cue.”

You scoff. Look around the room, shaking your head. The crowd has dispersed a little, folks have turned back to the TV screens, shifted focus back to the alcohol in their glasses. And then you look back to Santiago, holding his arms out.

“Alright. Fuck it.”

You hop down and snatch the second cue, wandering around the table while he racks the balls. He lifts the triangle, rolls the white over to you, and tells you to break.

The multicolored balls scatter in a fleet, two stripes tumble into pockets, and you stand back to survey your options. There’s a third stripe close to a pocket on the right, so you wander around to your left and turn.

“’scuse me,” you mutter, nudging Frankie’s stomach with the bottom of your cue.

He shoots you a dead-eyed stare, and takes one step back. And then his eyes drop, and you feel like you could slap him.

But you’re three – almost four – beers deep, and there are heads turning to watch how this plays out, and you can feel the bassline of the music rippling up from the soles of your feet all through your body, and you can feel the heat of his stare on the backs of your thighs, right where the hem of your dress sits.

Suddenly, slapping isn’t what you want to do to him.

Your head turns back to the pool table and you bend over, drawing the cue back between almost shaking fingers, and slam it into the white. It fires into the red striped ball, which hits the corner of the cushion, millimeters away from falling into the pocket.

You sigh, straightening up and waiting for your brother to begin his taunting, but it never comes. Instead, he fishes into his pocket for his phone, tapping the screen and holding it to his ear.

“Yep?” There’s a pause, Santiago’s face sours, and then he glances around the bar. “Right now? Really? No, it’s just…” He sighs. “Alright. I’ll be there. Just…I’m coming. I’m coming.”

He hangs up the phone and curses under his breath, then turns back to you, answering the question on your expression with: “One of our informants just got himself killed. I gotta go.”

“You haven’t even taken a shot yet,” you huff, taking his cue when he holds it out.

“I’ll make it up to you, hermana, promise. How are you gonna get home?”

You shrug. Mumble an, “I dunno.”

His eyes scan the room, passing over Will – already worse for wear, leaning shakily against a nearby table slurring to a group of strangers, then to Benny – stumbling out of the bar door with some girl on his arm, and finally land on the figure behind you, sliding a bowl of peanuts across the table to himself.

“Morales,” Santiago calls, and you throw the cues down on the felt.

“No, no way,” but your brother is already pushing past you to get to his friend. “Pope, no fucking w–”

Frankie turns, handful of nuts, cheek full and chewing.

“I gotta go, trouble at work. Can you do me a favor, man, ‘n make sure she gets home alright?”

“No,” you repeat. “He is not taking me home.”

“Baby,” Santi pleads, “just go with him, please?”

“I’ll walk. It’s, like, a twenty-minute walk.”

“No way. Mom would kill me.”

“Well, then, we just don’t tell her. Pope, please.”

He ignores you. “You are not walking home after dark. No.”

“Probably be safer than in the truck with him.”

Frankie’s head stops flitting between the two of you and his glare settles on yours. “Fuck you,” he spits, shaking his head.

“Right back at you,” you reply, insincere smile on your lips.

Santiago puts his palms together and holds them out to you. “Look, just – please. Just this once. I’ll owe you one.”

He doesn’t owe you one often. Makes a point of deliberately trying not to owe you one. This is an interesting offer. You sigh, and roll your eyes.

“Fine. You better fucking pay me back, though!”

“You got it,” he says, patting your shoulder. “Thanks, man,” he whispers to Frankie as he passes, slipping through the crowd toward the exit.

You and Frankie are left, two feet apart, filled with silence and resentment.

“You looking for someone else to hand your ass to you, lil Santi?” he asks, tossing another handful of peanuts into his mouth.

“You’re funny.” You hand him a smile, which drops the second he looks at it.

But when you turn back to the table and lift the cues, you hand one to him. Push it into his chest, shoot him a narrow-eyed glance.

“One game. And only ‘cause I need a sub.”

He dusts his hands together, shrugs. “Shouldn’t take me too long.”

You stalk back over to Mal, who’s giggling into her glass. “You two are unbelievable.”

“Don’t.” You hold your hand up, taking another swig of beer as Frankie lines up.

On his first shot, he pots that same red you were trying to hit before. His eyes lift only for a second, but you catch the cocky look he throws you and screw your face up.

“Fucking…ass,” you whisper.

Frankie’s shoulders jump, his teeth take his bottom lip. He’s laughing to himself when he takes his next shot, and pots another stripe. And then he stands up straight, holds his hands out.

“Just tell me when.”

“When what?”

“To start going easy on you.”

Fuck off. Fuck off, fuck you, fuck this. Fuck!

One more ball potted and finally, fucking finally, he misses a shot. It’s an impossible shot, anyway, there’s no way in hell he was gonna make it, but that’s not what matters. What matters is the way you twirl your cue in your fingers, then lift it and wander around the table, squeezing between Frankie and the wooden edge to get to your shot.

Your ass brushes past his jeans, and when you turn your head to whisper a sarcastic Sorry, he fucking growls. Low, almost inaudible. But just enough for you to notice, and enough for you to keep pissing him off.

The buzz you’re getting from antagonizing him this much must awaken some sort of billiards skillset you never knew you fucking had, because you pocket four balls in quick succession. Red, then green, then blue, and purple. There’s one ball between you when Frankie rounds the table, eyes scanning the felt for the next best shot he can take.

“Hurry the fuck up,” you mutter as he passes by you, on his third lap of the table.

He tsks. “Impatient,” he replies, shoulder brushing yours heavily. You feel the rough denim of his jeans graze your thighs, the weight of him against your backside for the second time. You push back, leaning into him as he moves past, then leans over, slinks his cue between his fingers, and takes his shot.

The yellow sails into the nearest pocket like there’s a magnet pulling it. The purple does the exact same – he barely has to tap it with the tip of the cue and it’s dropping in atop its predecessor.

Frankie turns, shimmying a little up the table, hip nudging yours out of the way. “Move,” he mumbles, shutting one eye to aim for the black. “Come on…” he breathes, and then shoots.

It bounces off of the opposite side of the table, thudding off of the cushion before it’s rolling toward the pocket and dropping in with a plunk.

He stands, fixing his baseball cap, and leans the cue against the table. “Good game, loser,” he says, ruffling your hair as he passes you.

“What age are you?” you sneer as he wanders back off to his beer, waiting for him on the table next to his bowl of peanuts.

Will wraps an unsteady arm around your shoulder as Frankie tips his bottle against his lips. He’s swaying, dragging you left and right with him as if you’re on a boat.

“He’s…he’s always been the best outta us all,” Will slurs, using his bottle to point at Frankie. “’s why he’s such a good pilot. Good aim.”

You sigh, pushing his heavy arm off yourself and slip back over to Mal, who hands you a sad smile and fixes your hair.

“It was a good attempt,” she says.

“Oh, shut up,” you reply, tossing your bottle up and draining the last of it onto your tongue. “I need another drink.”

You cross the room, suddenly less blurry and tilted, more boring and flat, and lean over the bar. “Nick,” you call, and he twists around, “grab me another–”

“It’s alright, Nick,” a voice yells over your shoulder, “I think she’s good.”

You spin around and it’s that stupid fucking baseball cap and the stupid denim button up again.

“What, I’m not allowed to drink now?”

Frankie’s head cocks. “You don’t think you’ve had enough?”

“I’ve had three. Three beers. The fuck is your problem?”

He tuts, glances left and right, and then back to you. “I think I should get you home.”

“I think you should mind your business.”

“Are you this fucking difficult with everyone when you’re drunk?”

“Nope,” you beam at him, “just you.”

He lets go of the grip he has on your arm and starts backing away. “I’m leaving, baby,” he tells you, nodding goodbye to Nick. “You’re either coming, or Pope’s gonna hear all about it.”

You ball your fists, watching the door swing closed behind him. Your feet stay rooted to the ground, eyes flitting from the parking lot over to Mal, who lifts her arms in a question. You shake your head in response, and her shoulders drop.

Sorry, you mouth, beginning to walk off in Frankie’s footsteps.

Mal blows you a kiss, winks once, and then salutes you goodbye. You shoulder out of the bar.

The ride back to your parents’ place is silent, except for the dull drone of whatever fucking music Frankie has choking out of his radio. You watch your hometown pass by, never taking your eyes off of the blurry streetlights or passing mailboxes, refusing to turn your head further than the middle of the windscreen at him.

He’s humming along to the song, jaw swinging as he chews on gum, arm hanging out of his open window. Everything he does is so fucking irritating, like a constant buzzing in your ear, an eyelash stuck in your eye, the feeling of stepping on a wet floor in socks.

So why, every time you do sneak a glance of him out of your peripheral, does the sight of those focused brown eyes, the strands of gray in his beard, the way his curls flick under the brim of his cap – why does it all stir something inside of you?

Frankie pulls up across the street from your house, white wood a milky blue in the moonlight. You unbuckle your seatbelt and let the strap whip off of your body, rattling against the interior of the truck. The most you’re willing to offer him is a nod of the head in thanks, which he returns, and your fingers hook around the door latch.

“Hey, mind if I come in ‘n use your bathroom?” he asks.

You pause. “Uh, yeah. I mind. No.”

“Come on, baby, I gotta piss like a racehorse.”

You scoff, ignoring him and slip down out of the truck. The door slams closed and you wander over to your parents’ drive, hearing a second slam as you cross the street.

“Uh, where do you think you’re going?”

“If your mom knew you weren’t letting me use her bathroom, she’d kill you, ‘n you know it.”

“My mom doesn’t know you like I know you, asshole,” you retort, but he’s still following you to the front door. “Just – alright. Do me a favor and disinfect it once you’re done. I don’t need them coming home to piss all over the floor.”

“You think my aim’s that bad? Just schooled you in a game of pool.”

You sigh, refusing to rise, and open the door. There’s the gentle scuffing of claws on the wooden flooring, trotting nearer and nearer in the dark hallway, and then the weight of your childhood dog shoves into your body.

“Hi, Angie. Hi, girl,” you whisper, scratching the dog’s white fur, her front paws against your tummy.

She jumps down when Frankie slips in behind you, wandering over with her tail swinging back and forth. He crouches down and holds his hand out, cooing, “Hi, baby,” as she nuzzles against his palm.

“She likes most folks who come by,” you utter, hanging your coat over the banister. “Don’t think you’re special.”

“She always loved me most,” he says, still fussing over the pup, “didn’t you, girl? Yeah, yeah you did.”

You roll your eyes and wander upstairs, leaving Frankie to find the bathroom, use it, and fuck off on his own.

It’s been almost eight years since you last lived here, but your room still looks oddly similar. Same bedframe, different sheets. Same wallpaper, only not covered in posters of your favorite bands. Same shelves, too, just that they hold stuff like vases and seashells and other random ornaments your mom’s picked up, rather than a collection of your favorite movies or framed photos of you and your friends.

You pull your dress over your shoulders and kick your boots off, grabbing a tee from your bag to sleep in. The Nirvana logo lies loose across your chest, the hem dancing along the line of your panties.

As you kneel on the mattress, tossing the million and one fucking pillows your mom has stacked down to the foot of the bed, you hear the door creak open.

“Damn,” Frankie mutters, glancing around the room, “haven’t been in here since I was, what, seventeen?”

“Weren’t welcome then, still not welcome now.”

“You still got that Black Eyed Peas poster rolled up somewhere?” He’s walking in, boots scuffing along the wooden floor.

“Are you lost?”

He looks over to you, stood by the bed, t-shirt barely reaching your thighs. “You know something, you ‘n your brother are so fucking different, it amazes me you’re related.”

“I imagine there’s a lot that amazes you, dumbass.”

He scoffs. There’s a hint of genuine humor in it. Like he’s impressed. And then his eyes scan down your body, lingering on the bare skin of your legs, shifting up to the pink cotton of your panties. They shoot back up when you speak again.

“Seriously, dude. What are you still doing here?”

Frankie turns to the dresser by the window, adorned with framed pictures of you and Santi as kids. “Making sure you get home alright, like Pope told me to.”

“Well,” you shrug, “I’m home, ‘n I’m alright. So…”

He picks up a silver frame; inside, faded by the sun and years that have passed, lives a photograph of you and your brother. He’s on his BMX bike, wide, toothless grin, and you’re behind him, standing on the pegs and gripping onto his t-shirt sleeves as you battle not to fall off.

Frankie laughs a little, turning the frame to show you. “You were always so fuckin’ annoying, you know that?” And then, with a shake of his head as he sets the frame back down, “Still are.”

You cock your head, throwing your hands up with an infuriated sigh. “If I’m so annoying, then why are you still here?”

The look he gives when he turns back around answers that question for you, in a way that his words never could. Never would, to be honest. He’d never admit the thoughts running through his head right now, same as you won’t admit that, likewise, they’re running through yours.

It’d be fucking weird. It’d be wrong, hooking up with his best friend’s little sister. Santi only asked him to get you home safe, not follow you inside, walk straight into your bedroom, look at you the way he’s looking at you right now, silhouetted by the streetlight shining through your still-open shades.

So then, why can’t he walk away?

You make to step forward, and Frankie’s already moving. He meets you halfway, stood on some fancy-looking rug your mom probably spent too much money on, his arms instantly finding your waist underneath your short tee.

“You fuckin’ piss me off, you know that?”

“I know,” you breathe, bottom lip brushing against his, “I know.”

He pushes you backward, sends you stumbling across the floor on your toes until the back of your calves hit the mattress and you fall, dragging him down on top of you. You knock the baseball cap from his head and run your hands through his brown curls, pulling him nearer as his hands begin to move north under the worn cotton of your shirt.

His rough hands cup your breasts, kneading and pinching your nipples as his lips fall to your neck, sucking a bruise into your soft skin.

“Frankie,” you breathe, “what the fuck are we–?”

“Shut up,” he whispers back, teeth grazing over your collarbone. He’s moving down, kissing over your tee as he goes, until he’s kneeling on the floor, your legs dangling off the bed either side of his body.

You push yourself up onto your elbows, watching him as he presses fleeting kisses to the insides of your thighs, making his way closer and closer to your center, covering ground painfully slow.

“Would you – just – fucking – get there?” you ask, head tilting back with a groan.

“Always so fucking impatient,” he mutters, pulling your legs further apart. “Makes sense, though,” he whispers, finger hooking around your underwear, “already so wet.”

“Dick,” you hiss, laying back flat on the bed.

Frankie holds the lace off of your core and then dips his jaw, lips lightly ghosting across your folds. You hum with a mixture of pleasure and annoyance, ready to buck your hips up to him if it’ll just make him move faster.

But you don’t have to wait a second longer. He licks one broad stripe up your center, pressing one chaste kiss to your clit before his tongue dips where you need him most. Your legs go to clamp shut, stopped by his shoulders.

“Fuck, Frankie,” you moan, hand coming down to knot your fingers in his hair.

He hums against your pussy, tongue lapping inside you, nose at the perfect angle for you to rut your clit against.

“Fuck…” you repeat, and he fucking laughs against you. “Quit it,” you hiss, and he lifts his head.

Your eyes shoot open, finding his. Alarmed meeting cool.

“Fine,” he says, smirking. “I’ll quit it.”

“Don’t you fucking– Frankie.”

“Your words, baby.” He shrugs, eyes flitting down to your cunt, soaked under his touch.

“I didn’t mean it,” you moan. “Why are you such a fucking asshole?”

He looks back up. The corners of his mouth pull his smirk into a grin. Some devilish grin, thick with arrogance.

“I’m an asshole,” he echoes, elastic of your panties shifting up to his knuckles.

He watches your cunt as he does it. Runs two fingers between your folds, coating them in your arousal, dipping them deeper until they’re at your entrance.

Your head hits the bed heavily, your body writhing over the white sheets as he pushes closer and closer. His free hand comes up and pushes down on your tummy, holding you steady to the mattress, then –

“I’m the asshole.”

He inserts his fingers, curled, thick, stretching you out over his hand as he pushes in deep. A gasp passes through your lips, exchanging itself for a throaty moan when Frankie begins fucking you on his hand, lowering his lips to your clit again.

His wrist pumps in and out, tongue swirling over the swollen bud, palm pushing harder into your stomach to keep you from upsetting his rhythm with how badly you want to move around.

Your fingers lock a vice grip around his hair, your hips the only part of your body he’ll let you move. You establish a pace of your own, fucking up to meet his fingers, grinding yourself on his wet tongue.

“I’m close,” you pant, Nirvana logo distorted in ruffles at the base of your neck. “So fucking close, Frankie.”

And he can feel it. Feel you tightening around his hand, feel the rhythm of your hips start to miss beats, move clockwise instead of up and down. He can hear as your mouth stops rounding the words, fading into slurs and breaths and moans instead of coherent language.

“F-Frankie,” you cry out, and it’s like music to his ears. “’m there, I’m–”

“On my mouth, baby,” he mutters, withdrawing his fingers and replacing them with his lips again, tongue pushing inside you as you fall apart all over him.

Your back lifts from the bed, fists ball around his hair, pushing his face even harder against your cunt as you ride out your high. You’re moaning his name over and over, echoing off the walls of your little room, escaping out the door and swirling around the hallway.

If you could hear yourself, or cared enough to try, you’d feel fucking embarrassed at what you’re doing – coming apart under Frankie’s touch. It’s Frankie.

The same Frankie you started an argument with one Fourth of July over which was better: ketchup or mustard; the two of you spitting insults over the striped tablecloth, obscene hand gestures being thrown up over plates of burgers.

The same Frankie who’d found out it was you who drew on the wall, and from that day on used it as leverage anytime you set a foot out of line. Used it to shut you up, anytime you so much as thought about talking back, or ratting on the boys.

You’re supposed to hate him. Ask anyone – Santi, Mal, your parents. They’ll all say the same. Like cat and dog.

And yet, here you are. Begging him not to stop, keep his hands and his mouth on you; gasping for breath when he eventually lifts away from you and you collapse back into the bed.

You glance down from under heavy lids, watching as he kisses your thighs again, slowly bringing you back to the room. His chin’s glistening, covered in your cum, beard soaked in you.

You slowly sit up, holding yourself steady with two palms pushed into the mattress. Frankie readjusts your underwear and sits back on his heels, running a hand down his chin and wiping himself clean.

“That was…” you pant, waiting for him to finish the sentence.

He just nods, breathing heavy himself. “Yeah.”

“I gotta…I gotta let…Ange out,” you say, words swaddled by your breath.

Frankie nods again. “I should go.”

You stand at the same time, straightening up face to face. His right side is lit warmly by your bedside lamp, the brown of his eye reflecting a tiny yellow orb back at you; the left side is darker, flecks of hair lit in the pale light from the street, face dark and unreadable. Like he’s two different people, split down the middle now, a before and after.

You’re staring at one another, mapping every inch of the other’s face. Learning it, like it’s new. Like you’ve never really seen each other until right now.

And then he’s turning, picking his hat up from the floor in one swooping motion, and walking out of your bedroom. A deep sigh passes your lips as he goes, relief mixed with satisfaction. And then you follow.

Angie circles him when his boots thud down from the bottom step. He bends to give her more attention, waiting for you to softly pad down alongside him. The dog trots off toward the kitchen, and he turns to you.

He’s back to his unphased self, jaw circling around the gum that he’s still fucking chewing. “Two drinks you owe me, now, lil Santi.”

You cock your head. “Hm?”

“One for showing your ass at pool, ‘n another for that.”

“Get the fuck out of my house, Morales.”

He snorts, wandering off down the hall. You spin on your heel and follow the sound of Ange scraping the back door, throwing a glance over your shoulder.

Frankie meets your eye, and like a reflex, the pair of you toss the finger to one another. He laughs, stepping out onto the porch.

“Anytime you feel like losing again, you know where I am, baby.”

----------

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lostberet · 1 month

Text

꒰‧₊˚🍊☆༉‧₊˚. ROLL & DICE

Your parents never approved of your boyfriend. Your dad loves his car, your boyfriend loves to win, and you love to celebrate his victories.

✒ pair. min yoongi x fem!reader ↪ tags. smut racer boyfriend!yoongi, established relationship, racer au, inspired by fast and furious kinda, ODETARI inspired, slight age gap (reader is 19, yoongi is 22). plot. Your boyfriend takes you to a car meet, in which he is racing. After winning the race, you guys ditch to celebrate between yourselves. cw. smut, car sex, parking lot sex car (public sex?), racing, reader gets a bit scared at how fast it goes, dirty talk, yoongi referring to reader as a princess, hoseok calls reader mama, unprotected sex (wrap it before u tap it), hand kink, choking kink, spanking, big!dick!yoongi because he is, creampie. english is not my first lenguage, if i missed anything, let me know a/n. I am literally so in love with yoongi, I love him so much, he is my man he just so- UGH, I bite my pillow whenever I see anything relating to Yoongi, I'm so obsessed. Anyways, enjoy, comment and reblog! chiao!

masterlist || entry ||

It was noisy, stinky and slutty.

Your boyfriend's hand tested on your hip, holding you close to him as both of you leaned on the hood of his Dark Blue Mustang, the orange LED lights under the car lighting your feet. You wore a jean mini skirt, pink plump heels, and a tank top that also matched the pink of your heels. Your closet sure was more brighter than your boyfriend's who only wore a baggy black sweats and an oversized black t-shirt. You wore gold jewelry, he wore silver. Yoongi eyed the crowed before turning to look at you, leaning in to whisper in your ear before being interrupted by a loud greeting.

"Yo mama looks good today, Agust D, how'd you been?" A man with a heart-shaped smile walked over as he greeted Yoongi with a hug and a pat on his back, "Smile Hoya!" Yoongi greeted back, turning to look at you and extending his arm towards you, "My woman always looks great."

You accepted Yoongi's hand, smiling at his friend, "Thanks for having me tonight, Smile Hoya" Smile Hoya just waved his hand, for his street style, he sure looked very bright, "Call me Hobi, you're my main guy's girl."

You only smiled, hiding your face on your boyfriend's shoulder while Hobi turned to Yoongi, "Better not lose tonight, got thousands on this baby right here." Hobi stated while he patted the Mustang's hood.

Yoongi only rolled his eyes, "I never lose, Smiles." Hobi, swinging his index finger in the air, "Not with Kai in the house." Turning his whole body towards you, Yoongi hugged your waist, looking down at you, "She's my lucky charm tonight and always." And with a final laugh, Hobi left the two of you alone.

"Shut up, D." You teased before leaning in and pecking his lips. Yoongi only pocked the inside of his cheek with his tongue, "If I win, can I have this?" He asked before slapping your ass, causing your to jerk up. You let out a laugh and smacked his chest, pulling away from him, "Sure you can, only if you win."

"Engines ready!" Yelled a blonde, her bikini top was loose and her shorts were down a bit to where her pink thong was displayed. You looked at Yoongi as he prepared himself, checking the mirrors and losing his nerves. You chuckled a bit before looking in front. The blonde removed her bikini top, displaying her breast. Your jaw dropped as you let out a breathy laugh. You still couldn't get used to this stuff.

"Yours are way prettier, princess." Yoongi teased as he gazed his eyes down on the ground right in front of the blonde's feet. You softly hit Yoongi's arm, which he only laughed. His grip on the steering wheel tightened as he stepped on the handle, letting the Mustang roar. His head turned to his left, where Kai was, his windows rolled down as he sent Yoongi a friendly raise of his hand, Yoongi only nodded once at him.

"Ready.." The blonde echoed once more, eyeing the crowd as they cheered, "Get Set," She commented as she raised her yellow bikini top. You felt your anxiety kick in as you rubbed your hands on your thighs. "Go!" The moment the blonde threw the bikini top on the ground, Yoongi stepped on the paddle, sending the car in motion. Your body pressed back on the seat, Yoongi played with the paddle as he drove the car, smirking as he noticed Kai being left only a few feet behind.

Yoongi reached over towards you and grabbed the walky-talky from your lap, "Smiles, tell me where to go." The other line fell silent before Hobi's cheery voice came on, cheers could be heard in the background, "Turn right into Avenue Street, and you'll get into the highway all down to Washington."

"Thanks, bud, see you at the finish line." Yoongi echoed before throwing the walky-talky behind on the seats and making a sharp turn to the right on Avenue Street. "The Highway??" You asked, holding onto the seat under you, "they cleared the highway up, princess." You frowned your brows a bit, "uh, yoongi.. that's illegal.." Yoongi only let out a deep chuckle, "I know."

Getting into the highway, yoongi changed the handle, causing the car to speed further, noticing Kai catching up. It all seemed to be going well until Hobi's voice echoed on the eat behind him, "D, police noticed the blockage, change of route." Yoongi breathed out a cuss, "princess, can you get the talky for me?" You nodded and turned your body, bending over the small space to grab the talky.

"Nice ass. You wore those cute undies i like?" Yoongi commented, making you turn faster than the speed of light, your face flushed, "you perv.." you huffed as you handed him the talky. Yoongi only grinned before replaying to Hobi, "if the police appear on my ass, we're splitting the money 75 to 25." Yoongi warned, causing the other line to laugh. "If they appear, you just gotta lose them, old pal."

Turning down the highway into a curvy road, Yoongi felt his heart stop, seeing the police car parked. Unable to do anything, he shook his head and continued down the road, causing the police siren to go off. You looked behind you to see the bright blue and red lights, "Seat belt, princess, we've talked about this" You nodded and quickly put on your seatbelt.

The speed of the car made you feel as if you were floating, an interestingly terrifying feeling. You gulped as you felt the sharp turns, "Yoongi.." you whispered, his hand holding yours that clenched your skirt, "You're okay, princess, I'm here."

On the right, Kai sped up, making a right turn to leave the highway and find another route. Yoongi mentally praised the guy. Yoongi had memorized all the streets in the city, that's what every great street racer does, always be prepared. Yoongi grabbed the talky, "Hobi, prepare that finish line, imma lose this shitty cop." Changing the speed, your boyfriend drove towards an exit, going into smaller streets, it was dangerous, but at least he'd lose the cop.

Running through some neighborhoods and allies, Yoongi was able to lose the cop, lightly rubbing your thigh, "see, lost 'em." You only let out a soft laugh, taking a breath in. Hopping back into the right route, Yoongi eyed each enterence, knowing Kai would pop out. As if calculated, Yoongi shifted a lane, Kai appearing beside him, "fucking dick."

The cars were neck to neck, and the sound of the engine echoed in your ears as you gripped the seat, closing your eyes. Yoongi eyed the car next to him, his brows frowning. He could tell from the multiple colors that the finish line had been set, and everyone was waiting for the winner. Yoongi reached behind him, and the sound of clicking and tapping could be heard, "what are you doing?"

Yoongi looked over at you, "winning this race." Your eyes trailed back to the road, your mouth opening a bit in suprise, "so that's how racers do.." Yoongi only giggled softly, setting himself before he grabbed a small control, handling it to you, "have the honor of winning this race."

Your eyes shined as you saw the remote, grabbing the remote and kissing Yoongi's cheek. You waited until Yoongi's call to press it. Kai seemed to have thought the same thing. However, he did it sooner. His car flaying forward. Yoongi only barked out a laugh, "idiot."

After 10 seconds, his car lost its speed, falling back to be neck to neck. Yoongi smirked as he stepped on the peddle, speeding beside him, "Now!" You pressed the button, this time his Mustang flying forwards, you let out a yelp in surprise at the speed, "Oh shit."

You closed your eyes, not wanting to think much about the speed, and before you knew it, the car had slowed down, Yoongi's laugh echoing in the closed space of the car. He did a U-turn and was soon coming to a complete stop. You heard cheers coming from outside the car, your sign that you've made it through the finish line.

You opened your eyes to see people crowding the car. You were about to step out when Yoongi stopped you, "Wait." He lowered the window on his side, Hobi pushing his way through, "You the man, D!" Hobi praised, "Cop was on my ass Smiles, I warned you.”

Hobi only rolled his eyes, "yeah, yeah, I know man–" the sound of sirens distracted the crowd, causing people to scatter to their own cars, "Enjoy your chase, Smiles" Yoongi smirked before driving off, Hobi stood frozen in the chaos before flipping the Mustang off.

The light sound of sirens echoed in the darkness of the parking lot, a few floors of the lower level, the area was dark, probably since it was an old lot. The cops wouldn't check there, and your boyfriend knew that. Yoongi let out a laugh as he looked over, seeing the chase of many cars by the cops, some actually even being pulled over, "We lost them, princess."

You only let out a moan, holding onto the hood of the car. Your boyfriend had you bent over the hood, skirt up to your waist, and cock balls deep inside you. Your pussy clenches around him, leaking from the multiple orgasms you've already had. Yoongi's sticky fingers from all the fingering rested on your hip, your heels weren't bringing in any support to you, having to stand on the tips, "fuck, yoongi.." You whined.

"yes, princess" Your boyfriend purrs, unbothered by your panting self. He pressed his hips more onto yours, feeling him push his dick deeper into you, "please.." your voice was low, yet he understood what you wanted. His fingers dug into your waist as he brought your hips back harder against his own, and the way he was thrusting into you had you feeling like the air was being punched out of your lungs.

His dick was so big, so long, so thick. He knew how to fuck, and he was fucking you so good. Your gummy like walls pulsing around his veiny cock making you moan out filthy words you never imagined that would ever come out of your mouth. He drove you to sin.

Yoongi's hand snaked towards your throat, his fingers wrapping around your throat, as his pace picked up, "You like my hands wrapping around your pretty throat, huh?" You heard him chuckle from behind, getting a moan out of you. Your boyfriend pulled your upper body against his chest, your back pushed against his chest, and a strangled moan escaped your lips, the sensation starting to make you feel light headed.

He was so damn good, and you felt yourself nearing your climax, with him still pounding into you from behind, your breast brushing against the hood as the car moved with the force of his thrusts, and you came, moaning loudly, your orgasm making your body shake, and the sound of your cries was drowned out by the sirens of the police, looking for many more of the racers.

Your hips stuttered, and your vision became hazy as he continued to pound into you, fucking you through your orgasm, and you whimpered at the sensory overload, "Slow down.. yoongi,.." you whined, your hand reaching back to hold onto his stomach, trying to push him back just a bit.

Yoongi then took your arm, pinning it behind you, his free hand slapping your ass, causing you to jerk forward, "Let me savor my victory, princess." You twitched under him, still not over your intense orgasm, feeling his cock twitch as he slipped in and out of you, furiously fucking himself into you. His head was thrown back, and soft moans left his mouth. His breath hitched when a load of his milky white cum shot out.

Your eyes rolled back, and it had him gritting his teeth, grinding into you until you couldn't stand, and his own legs barely kept him up anymore. He panted softly, gulping as you melted into him, both of his arms hugging your waist. Slowly, he got himself off you, holding you in place to not collapse.

The sirens had died down by the time Yoongi had helped you clean yourself up. You were shivering from the cold as Yoongi unlocked the car, gesturing for you to get on as he looked down at the street, "This is why your mom hates me." Yoongi commented, causing you to stop before getting into the car, "She hates the age gap and your car."

"Exactly, your dad loves me and your mom hates me." Yoongi leaned in and kissed your forehead, "My dad likes your car, not you." You corrected. Yoongi only shrugged, "tomato, tomato."

After settling you into the passenger seat, Yoongi handed you his jacket to cover your legs, "A win is still a win." Starting the engine, Yoongi leaned into the steering wheel, gaze fixed on you, "And you know how to win."

a/n. I love yoongi :c

#bts #x reader #bts army #bts x reader #bts fanfic #kpop #min yoongi #yoongi x reader #yoongi smut #bts suga #bts smut #lostberet

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zeltqz · 4 months

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selfish | haitani ran

synopsis. haitani ran wants you, but can't have you because it would be considered selfish. content. 12k words (listen ik its long just hear me out..), fem!reader, friends to enemies to lovers, mild fwb situation gone wrong, ran's mother is in prison and gives shitty advice, implied sexual harassment (some creepy junkie, nothing happens though), mildly toxic ran, possessiveness, alcohol mentions, ran says hurtful things when he's drunk. NSFW content. authors note. this was inspired by an ask that i changed up a little because i LUV drama, so anon if you see this and recongise the plot creds to uuuuuuuuuuuuuuu for the idea!!!!

You were jolted awake by the violent buzz of your phone, muffled by your pillow. You groggily sat up, wiping your eyes and slapped around under your pillow for your phone. Carefully, you rolled to the far edge of your bed and answered.

“Hello?”

“Come down. I’m outside.”

“Ran it’s…2 in the morning.”

“Just come. I want to talk to you.”

You slipped from your bed, yawning and grabbing your house keys on the way out. Once you were outside, the instant regret of not bringing a jacket hit you as you shivered from the cold. You were about to run back inside, but decided against it when you saw Ran’s car parked at the end of the road, the lights on and the windshield wipers actively wiping away the snow.

You resisted the urge to dramatically slam the door shut when you got in the car. “There better be a zombie apocalypse happening right now if you think waking me up at 2 am was a good idea.”

“So I can only contact you when the world is ending?”

“At 2am, yes.” You leaned your head back against his car seat, mindlessly closing your eyes to savour onto the lingering signs of sleep. “Why’re you even here? I thought you were out of town.”

“I had plans.” He drummed his fingers along the steering wheel.

“Like plans or ‘plans’?” His smile turned into a smirk and you grimaced. “Ew don’t touch me.” He laughed playfully and gestured at your seatbelt. You put it on as he started the car, pulling out onto the main road.

“So where are you taking me anyway?” you asked, plucking at a loose thread on your pyjama bottoms.

“Nowhere in particular. Just driving around.”

“Cool. So why am I here then?”

“Wanted company. Is that so wrong?”

You looked his way, wondering if he was being serious right now. “Why didn’t you call your brother then? Or literally anybody else.”

“Because I wanted to see you.” He glanced in your direction, seeing the stunned expression on your face that you quickly fixed when you realised he was staring.

You rolled your eyes. “Yeah sure. Whatever.” You yawned and turned to the side to lean against the window.

“If you’re tired you can sleep.”

“I don’t wanna fall asleep on you. That’s rude.” Another yawn. “I’ll manage it.”

“You hungry?” he asked, pulling up towards a late night fast food drive-thru across the street.

“Kinda. Now that I think about it, I barely ate all day.”

“Don’t know how you do it honestly.” He was plucking at his baby hairs as he slowed the car to a stop. “Alright whaddya want.”

You peeked past his body to look at the menu on the wall, the bright lights straining your tired eyes. “Literally anything. I don’t care.” He clicked his tongue and stared at you. You sighed. “I don’t want you to waste money on me.”

“Don’t stress,” he said, waving off your concern with a wave of his hand. You settled in your seat as he rolled down the window. You were distractedly scrolling on your phone to pass time as he spent the next five minutes ordering.

Looking up, you saw he already had the bag of food on his lap, but instead of handing it to you, his arm is leaning against the window, smirking as he talks to the cashier working the drive-thru. She has her finger twirling her hair, leaning so far from the narrow window you’re surprised she hasn’t fallen out yet.

“Hello?? Can we go?!” you snapped.

“Oh, sorry.” The girl leered in your direction, taking you back momentarily before she fixed her features in time when she looked back at Ran. “It was nice meeting you,” she said softly, her voice lacking the same venomous tone she gave you earlier.

“Pleasure meeting you too. See you around beautiful.” You don’t know if he winked or did his signature smirk at her, but it was something of that nature because she had to fan herself to calm the redness on her face as his car began driving off.

You took the bag of food from his lap and ripped it open. “Do you really have to flirt with every girl you meet?”

“Someone sounds jealous.” You weren’t even looking in his direction but you could envision the shit eating grin of his face when he said that.

“I’m not jealous. I just know how to keep it in my pants and not go around flirting with every guy I meet.” You bit the packaging of the straw and poked it in your drink more aggressively than you intended.

“Have you maybe thought that’s because you just suck at flirting?”

You almost choked on your drink with how quick you moved your head to face him. “I don’t suck at flirting!”

He snorted, taking one hand off the wheel to support his head as he leaned against the door. “Sureeeeeeeee.”

“Don't say sure like that.”

“Why not?”

“Because you don’t believe me!”

He shrugged. “I don’t.” He stopped the car at a red light. “Show me how you flirt then.”

You stared down at the food in your hands, contemplating if you should. When you looked up, you saw him already staring at you, waiting. “Fine.” You wiped your hands and set your food back down, putting it back in the takeout bag before shifting to face him on your seat.

You cleared your throat, readying yourself to speak. The second you opened your mouth, it was like your mind blanked and you instantly closed it again. “This is too embarrassing. I can’t.”

“It’s only embarrassing if you make it embarrassing,” he responded back, shifting his attention back on the road when the light changed to green.

“No. I just know you’re going to laugh at me if I do it.”

“No I won’t.” He put a hand over his heart. “Scouts honour”

“You’re so ridiculous,” you grumbled but laughed nonetheless. “Okay, I’ll do it once we get home. I need time to prepare.”

Ran seemed to agree with that and in the fifteen minutes it took you to get home, you finished your food. He was parked outside your house across the street and you were idly sipping at your drink.

“Alright, ready?” He turned the engine off, leaving the radio still on.

“Wait this is my favourite song.” You inched forward to turn the volume up only to recoil when he slapped your hand away. “What the hell?!”

“Stop stalling.” He ignored the frustrated look on your face. “Show me already. I didn’t drive you here for nothing.”

“You shouldn’t have driven here at 3 in the morning anyway!”

“So ungrateful.” He pinched your nose with two fingers, laughing when you swatted him away. “Show meeee.”

“Okay fine! Fine!” You set your drink in the cupholder and turned to look at him. “I actually don’t know how to flirt.”

“Had a feeling.”

“Shut the fuck up.”

“Want me to teach you,” he asked gently, looking directly into your eyes. You found it hard to look away in that moment, like so much was riding on your answer.

You nodded slowly. “Yeah… okay…”

“Alright. Guys love it when you’re confident and can hold eye contact. So hold eye contact as much as you can, but don’t stare like a creep. That shit’s weird. Show ‘em you’re engaged in the conversation when they’re talking about themselves and just stare into their eyes. Shit, that even gets me all fuzzy when a girl knows how to hold it. Had me stutterin’ and shit once.”

You blinked and envisioned a stuttering, flustered Ran in your mind. “Really? Eye contact? That’s all?” He shrugged and nodded. “That sounds really hard to believe honestly.”

“Really?” You nodded. “Reaaaally?” he repeated, extra slow, giving you enough time to back out when you have the chance.

“Yes. Reaaaaally Ran.”

“Tell me what you did today.”

You crossed your arms and looked up at the ceiling. “Well…I woke up this morning…I went to work, had lunch, worked until 4, then came home and studied.”

“In detail.”

“Is that really necessary?” you complained, but the look on his face was completely serious. Sighing, you settled back into your seat. “Okay so I went to bed late as fuck last night and I woke up at like 12 which was so bad because my shift started in fifteen minutes. So I wondered whether or not I should go and—”

“Look at me when you talk.”

You were about to slap him. You sighed and turned to look at him.

“I went to back late last night and woke up at like…” Your mind blanked, and you struggled to find your words or remember what the hell you did hours ago with him looking so intently at you. “...11 ish? Which was—”

“You said it was 12, no?” he tilted his head, his stare unwavering.

You gulped. “Yes. Sorry. I woke up at 12 and my shift started at 12:15.” Your face burned. Just what the hell was wrong with you. In that moment, you felt like you were out of your own body, spirit you watching as you did nothing but blink uselessly at Ran. You fought the urge to slap yourself and ignore his slutty mind tricks.

You looked down at your lap only to have him lift your face back to him with a single finger. “You’re not done with your story yet.”

“...right…right.” You cleared your throat again. He leaned forward, forearms resting on the steering wheel, locking his gaze on you. Was Ran always this hot? Surely you’ve noticed it before but not like this, where your mind is focusing only on him, and pushing all other stray thoughts out of the way

You inhaled deeply and regained composure. “And I briefly considered whether or not I should go in late…but my boss has been kinda mean to me lately and…”

He raised an eyebrow, nodding as he studied your face, and urged you to continue when you stopped talking.

“...so I went in and finished my shift. My boss wasn’t too mad at me which was good I guess.”

“Then what?” His voice was purposefully different than usual, it was lower in that moment, throwing you off balance completely.

Your throat suddenly felt dry. “One second.” You grabbed your drink from before and began taking long sips from it, still feeling the intensity of his stare against the side of your face. Once you gulped half the drink down, you forcefully swallowed your burp, not wanting to ruin the weird, but heated atmosphere in the car with your natural bodily functions.

“Then I went home to study for my exam on Thursday and fell asleep. Then your annoying ass woke me up and here I am.”

He laughed lightly, pulling back to return back to his seat. “How hard was that? Be honest.” His head rested back against the headrest, smirking at you. “Don’t lie now.”

You looked down at your lap, averting your eyes from his and refusing to make eye contact. You hated that you had to admit that it actually worked, his intense eye contact had actually effected you. He kept urging you until you persisted and you groaned inwardly. “Fine. It worked.”

“Seeeeee?” He jostled you playfully, and you smiled weakly. “I told ya. Anyway, want more advice?”

“There’s more?” Was the eye contact not enough? You didn’t even want to think how much power this man has.

“Yeah. Say his name a lot. Drives me crazy when I hear a girl say my name.”

You snorted. “Sounds oddly narcissistic of you,” you retorted before you could catch yourself. “Sorry.”

“(Y/N),” he called your name in a deep, rumbling tone that had you internally shut down and log off.

Once you came back, you grinned, impressed. “Wow…you’re good,” you admitted, subtly rubbing your hand along your arm to rid it of the goosebumps that seemed to sprout up whenever he spoke to you in that tone. “You’re actually a danger to society.”

“It’s fun making girls all flustered.” His hand rose to rest on your thigh. When you didn’t shrug it off or tell him to stop, his fingers began to caress softly against your skin. His touch felt electrifying, zapping through the fabric of your pyjama bottoms as he continued his actions.

“Something wrong?” he asked teasingly when he saw you struggle to control yourself, clenching your thighs together.

“Nothing’s wrong.”

“You’re not gonna tell me to stop?”

“No.”

“I see.” His thumb continued to stroke your inner thigh.

You don’t know what possessed you at that moment, but you grabbed his hand and placed it between your legs. He looked at you, confused and surprised at your sudden boldness.

You pulled him closer, wrapping your arms around his neck, and whispered into his ear, “I can be seductive too, you know?”

Something in your words ignited a flame inside him, something primal and raw when your lips softly grazed down his ear. He turned his head to meet yours.

“I’m sure you can be,” he said softly, leaning in to kiss you gently. The kiss was only a soft press of his lips against yours, and your desire to want him to kiss you for real grew stronger by the second.

His hand moved down your body, helping you pass the console to straddle him. One hand slid down the back of his neck as you kissed each other hungrily, your tongue sliding out to meet his. He bit your bottom lip, gently sucking it while running his tongue along the inside of your mouth, slowly parting your lips with his.

“Fuck,” you breathed out, pulling away to look down at him, resting your forehead against his. You went back in, and the kiss quickly turned heated, hungry and wild. “This doesn’t mean anything, right?” you asked, panting slightly.

He broke the eye contact to look down at his hands on your waist, sliding down to your hips and held you firmly in place, leaving no space between you. “Nah. Let’s just have fun.”

He cupped the back of your neck to bring you in for another kiss, your insides melting as your body temperature rose at the feeling of his rough hands working you over. He fumbled with the drawstrings of your pj bottoms until they loosened, slipping his hands inside, desperate to touch bare skin.

“No panties,” he grinned against your lips, giving you a peck when you flushed.

“They’re uncomfortable at night…gotta let it breathe, you know?” you mumbled, looking down at his lap.

He nudged your head up using his own and reattached his lips to yours. His hands continued to explore your body, roaming up and down your back, clutching at your waist. He placed his hand firmly on the back of your head, gilding your head movements into the kiss.

His thumb traced circles on the soft flesh on your hip as your mouth left his to plant open, wet kisses along his neck, teeth nipping and skimming when the radio thought it’ll be a wonderfully convenient idea to switch from the soft music it was playing earlier, to sudden heavy death metal, loud instruments and screaming booming through the car.

You both jumped apart, your head smacked against the roof of the car, wailing as you winced when Ran started laughing. “It’s not funny!”

He doesn’t stop laughing because why would he, but he at least reached forward, your body on his lap following his movements as he turned the volume down.

“Why do you even have that on your playlist?!”

“Rindou had a…phase. I hate it too, don’t worry.”

You continued to rub the sore spot and pouted when you felt a headache blooming, already kissing goodbye to your good night’s sleep tonight.

“Come here.” He smoothed a hand over the sore spot. “Better?”

“Kinda.” Your sour mood lessens and you start laughing, hiding your face in his shoulder. Your shoulders shook as you struggled to control your laughter. He laughed alongside you, his arms tightening around your body as he pulled you back against him.

“That scared the living shit out of me,” you panted, finally catching your breath, kissing down the side of his neck.

He turned his face to properly meet yours. You kissed him deeply, slowly rocking your hips with his as his strong hands squeezed tightly against your ass. After a while, you broke the kiss, your body now craving more than just kissing.

“Stop teasing me,” you complained, pushing him lightly on the chest.

“‘S fun seeing you so worked up,” he said with a shitty smirk, pressing a kiss to your neck. Your head lolled back as he steadily worked his way down the column of your throat, then down your chest.

His fingers bunched around the hem of your shirt, about to tug it off when you looked outside. The sun was still dark, but the promise of sunrise just around the corner as it rounded near 4 am. Obviously people wouldn’t be up and walking around this late, but the thought still made you stiffen.

“What’s wrong?” Ran asked, pausing with your shirt half way up your stomach.

“Can we go inside?” you asked, dragging the tips of your nails along the flat plane of his stomach. Despite having spent the last ten minutes making out with this man, the question implied more and your face burned when his eyes widened a bit.

You looked down at your hands moving under his shirt, tracing patterns across his skin and bit down a giggle when he squirmed as you hit a particularly ticklish spot, poking his belly button. You took a mental note of that for later…

“You sure you wanna?” he asked carefully. You nodded. “Alright. Let’s go.”

You quietly stumbled out of the car, holding his hand as you crossed the street to your house. You were fumbling with your keys, hard to find the keyhole in the darkness. It wasn’t helping your focus and accuracy with Ran behind you, fingers caressing your hips and waist, nipping at your neck. You let out a soft moan, giving up with your keys to lean your head back against his shoulder to give him more access before you quickly came to your senses.

“I need to open the door, go away,” you said with a huff, ignoring his laughter as you pushed him away.

The door slammed shut and you locked it before pouncing on Ran, letting him press you up hard against the door as he hungrily devoured your mouth. His lips branded the soft skin of your neck as he dipped lower, carrying you to your bedroom. You were dropped mindlessly on your bed, bouncing from the impact as he hovered over you, your mind pleasantly blank as you focused solely on how badly you needed him right now.

His fingers slipped down your underwear and you saw stars.

~*~

As you were walking through the aisles of the grocery store, your music was interrupted by your phone ringing. You jerked your phone out from your jeans pocket to stare at the caller ID. Just a long string of numbers.

“Who is this?” you asked suspiciously, racking your brain for a time you handed your number out to anyone you hadn’t saved.

“It’s Ran. What, forgot about me already?”

Your mood immediately dampened and you clutched your phone tighter in your hand. “Why’re you calling me?”

“Easy with the hostility, man. I just wanted to talk to you.”

“And you couldn’t have done this, I dunno, in the two months you spent ghosting me? And don’t tell me “easy with the hostility”, I have a right to be fucking mad after you just hit and dipped like that.”

“Hit and dipped?”

“You ghosted me dumbass.”

You heard a loud exhale. “Right… yeah about that.”

“What do you want Ran?”

“I miss you.”

You almost forgot how to breathe. “Areyoufuckingkiddingmerightnow?”

“You heard me. I said I missed you.”

“Let me guess, there’s no other girls available right now, right? That’s why you’re bugging me?” It would be a wild accusation if not for the fact after that night you spent together, his phone buzzed incessantly, the constant vibrations waking you up and you saw notifications of girls in his inbox, sending him the usual “are you up?” text messages, followed up with images of themselves half naked.

He hummed. “Why would there be other girls? I’m talking to you right now.”

“Because you’re you.”

“Ok, but I’m serious though. I miss you a lot.” You found it so hard to give this man any sympathy.

“Well who’s fault is that? Nobody asked you to stop speaking to me after that night.”

“I know I know. I messed up. I just didn’t know how to approach you after that.” He sounded seriously stressed over this, and your face softened for a fraction of a moment before memories of you constantly checking your phone to see if he bothered to open your message yet reappear in your mind; just like that, your scowl is back, sympathy long gone.

“Right. Because THE Haitani Ran gets nervous after sex. Wow, shocker.”

“I mean, you were the best lay I ever had.”

Your traitorous heart stuttered without your permission, making your lips quirk up into a smile. “Really?” You cursed yourself for even entertaining his bullshit, and cursed your body even more for reacting in such a manner.

“Yeah, course you were.”

“Then why’d you ghost me? It’s like you want me to hate you. I swear to god for the life of me I’ll never under male logic.”

“It’s not male logic. ‘S just me, being a dumbass.”

“Yeah, no shit.”

“This was different though because we were friends before we fucked, and I didn’t wanna make things weird. I had no clue how to text you after that.” You guessed that made sense, having felt the same awkwardness the morning after waking up sore with him beside you.

“Oh. Well, it’s only weird if you make it weird.”

“Right. So…can I make it up to you?”

“How?”

“Let’s hang out.”

“Like hang out or ‘hang out’?” Part of you wanted it to be the first one, not wanting to ruin anymore awkwardness in your friendship by sleeping with each other again. But the other part of your body already was hellbent on it being the second, already addicted to the way he makes you feel in bed.

“The former. But,” his voice dropped lower, “it can also be the latter, if you’re down.”

“I’m down,” you said a bit too quickly for someone trying to seem indifferent.

“Cool. See you tonight then.”

Before you could say goodbye, he was already saying hi to someone else, and then hung up. Any negative emotions you felt for him was tempered by the excitement buzzing through your limbs as you continued shopping for groceries with a dopey smile on your face, happy you were able to patch things up.

~*~

Time passes since you both agreed to this weird friends with benefits arrangement. All awkwardness is stomped on and thrown out the window, now more open to the matter. Months go by of you losing yourself in his sheets, of him mapping out your body with his tongue, latching his mouth onto your skin and marking you all over. Months go by of you craving his touch whenever you’re alone, picturing his voice in your ear, his presence caging you from above when you’re with other men. Months go by of you both making plans, with you, more than him, staring at your phone the entire day, starting the mental countdown to when you’re next able to see him.

Life is good for Ran, until the day he dreaded the most every year rolls around. The day he has to visit his mother in prison along with Rindou. Their meet-ups are nothing more than an annual thing, visiting her on her birthday every year.

“So what have you been up to this year?” she asked disinterestedly.

Ran could see right through her, can see she’s started using again if the bloodshot eyes and the not so subtle way she rubs her nose were any clue.

“Good ma,” Rindou responded. “I’ve took up DJ’ing in a few of Dad’s clubs in my free time.”

At the mention of her ex-husband, she sneered. Rindou rolled his eyes. “Are you gonna do that every time I mention him ma?”

“I’ll react however the fuck I want when you bring up that passed around, dried up whore of a man,” she snapped. Rindou doesn’t react, already used to her mood swings and aggressive comments about his father. She jerked her head over to her weirdly quiet son. “And you? What’s your deal?”

“My deal?” Ran asked, matching her levels of indifference.

“What have you been up to,” she repeated slower, like he was dumb.

“Nothing.”

“What? Your life is that shit you haven’t done anything for the past year? Nothing at all?” She stared at Ran who responded with silence and a blank stare. “Even I’ve done shit and I’m stuck in this hell hole.”

“Well whose fault is that?” Ran snapped back. Rindou slapped his forehead.

“Listen here you—”

“Ran’s been seeing a girl ma,” Rindou said quickly, hoping that small drop of information about his brother’s life was enough to diffuse a bad situation.

“A girl?? Who?”

“Just some girl. You don’t know her and never will,” Ran grumbled.

“Is she…?” she gestured at him, at herself. He didn’t respond and she changed the wording of her question. “How did you meet?”

“She’s not involved in what we do ma. If that’s what you’re wondering.”

“Good.” She let out an exhale in relief. “And you make sure to leave her out of it.”

“What?”

She pointed her finger at him. “Don’t pursue this girl because you’re selfish and want to bring her in potential danger. Keep her around, fuck her or whatever it is you do in your spare time that you wanna keep a secret from me, but if you pursue her romantically then you’re a selfish piece of shit.”

Ran stiffened, his glare hardening in her direction. “Keep out of my goddamn business.”

“You know I’m right, Ran. That’s why you’re mad. Isn’t that right, Rindou?” She looked at her youngest son who looked tentatively between them both, staying stubbornly silent. She clicked her tongue and turned back to Ran. “You’d rather put this girl in danger because you can’t stand being alone by yourself. You’ve got issues, Ran. That’s why you haven’t had a relationship longer than 3 months. Correct?”

Ran stared down at the table, silent.

“Do you care about her?” she asked and Rindou had no idea if he pictured it or not but it looked like she softened for a moment.

Ran didn’t respond, but nodded in slight movements.

“If you truly care about this girl, you’ll leave her alone. It’s for her own good. Bringing her into your lifestyle is just selfish.”

“Times up,” The officer from the back of the room said, walking towards the table with handcuffs.

She stood up and placed her hands behind her back. “Do the right thing, Ran.”

“How do you know that’s true though?” he asked.

“Speaking from experience. Look at me, suffering from the actions of your father. He brought me into this lifestyle, and I wasn’t prepared for it. So now I’m facing the consequences. You’re just like your father, Ran. An emotionally distant, sadistic, messed up man. Embrace it or don’t. Try to change or don’t. Either way I don’t care. Just don’t ruin others because of that nature.”

The officer tightened her handcuffs and locked them. “Let’s go,” he said, before escorting her out of the room.

Rindou looked at his brother with sympathy. “You okay?” His hand rose to rest of his shoulder but Ran stood up before he could make contact.

He shoved his hands into his pockets and turned around. “Let’s go.”

~*~

You weren’t sure what was going on with Ran but he seemed emotionally distant. He was no longer affectionate towards you when you both hung out, his response time was a lot slower than it used to be. When you had sex, he was totally fine though, which weirded you out because he would randomly do a complete 180 out of nowhere with the affection.

“That was amazing,” you said panting as you collapsed back on the bed. Ran hummed in agreement, gathering you in his chest as you cuddled. You buried your face in his neck, the scent of his cologne heavy in your nose.

“I know,” he sighed, looking down and kissing your forehead. You smiled harder, fighting back the urge to giggle and use his warm body as a blanket.

You were playing with the tip of his braid, occasionally twirling it around the tip of your index finger when you decided now was the time to approach the topic that’d been brewing inside you the last few months.

“So…” you traced your fingernail across the spiral tattoo on his chest.

He looked down at you, a lazy smirk on his face. “So?” He kissed your forehead again.

You bit down on your lip and forced yourself to look into Ran’s eyes. “This might sound cliche, or cheesy or whatever but…”

“Doubt it,” he snorted, taking your hand off his chest and linking his fingers with yours, clutching your hand tightly. When you looked stumped for words, he nudged his shoulder, softly jostling you in the process. “What’s up?”

“Well…” God, this was harder than you thought it would be.

You chewed the skin of your lips as you tried to calm your nerves before you exploded with anxiety. You nearly froze when he placed his thumb against your lip, tugging it free from its brawl with your teeth.

Fuck it. “I just wanted to know…what are we…?”

It didn’t help your already racing nerves when he froze beneath you, and you swore you could feel the blood in his body stop flowing at that moment.

He sat up abruptly, sending you sliding off his chest. You blinked uselessly at the muscled plane of his back, grabbing the sheets and clutching it towards your chest, your body deprived of the warmth his body provided earlier now making your limbs go cold.

He scratched his hair and sighed exhaustedly. “I gotta be honest with you.”

You barely found your voice as you softly said, “Go on.”

“I don’t want a relationship right now.”

“Oh.” You quietly cleared your throat, sitting upright and shifting backwards on your mattress until your back hit the headboard. “With me…or?”

“Anyone.”

“So…what was the point of this then?”

“I dunno? I mean I just thought you liked…” he gestured at the both of you, hoping you’d see where he was coming from. When you didn’t and just stared at him confused, he got more frustrated. “You know, this? What were we doing? I didn’t know you—” He sighed again and groaned.

You felt like your throat was stuffed with cotton with how hard it was to breathe. “But I thought you liked me?”

“I do like you.”

“So then what’s the hold up?”

“Just because I like you doesn’t mean I have to be with you, okay? I’m busy all the fucking time and you’ll just be getting in the way of that,” he said curtly, not bothering to hide the clear frustration in his voice.

Hurt prickled across your skin, your ears felt full as you toned out everything he was saying. He turned to face you, those eyes of his that normally made you flush from head to toe now felt so cold and distant, like you didn’t know who the man in front of you was.

“Just get out, Ran.” You choked back tears as they threatened to fall from your eyes, but you quickly looked away before they could. He’d seen you vulnerable beneath him many times, but this time was different. You couldn’t—no, you won’t allow him the satisfaction of seeing he made you this upset.

“No wait.” He reached out for you, his heart shattering when you pushed him away, sulking.

He had a weird feeling in his chest, one that he wasn’t used to feeling, and instead of combating his emotions like a regular person, he discarded them to the side, pretending they didn’t exist. He sighed exasperatedly and slid off your bed.

You moved to lay down, covering your entire body with your bedsheets as you heard him pack up his things. He silently changed and gently closed the door when he left. Once you heard your front door close, you sat up and wiped your tears, grabbing your phone from your dresser.

The next few hours were spent watching youtube videos, laughing softly at the comments people left. It made you feel less useless about yourself and tried to desperately take your mind off what just happened prior. Honestly, you blame yourself for even bringing it up. It wasn’t worth ruining a two year friendship over.

Sure, it’s normal to catch feelings for a guy that treats you nice, isn’t selfish in bed and actually takes his time to account for your needs. That doesn’t mean you’re romantically interested in him though, right? Guaranteed it could’ve been any other of your friends, like Sanzu or even Mikey and you would’ve developed those same feelings, right?

Before you had any time to digest that topic deeper, a text message notification popped up on your screen.

Ran: ok so that was awkward before. Can we talk this over properly?? I dont want to ruin what we had honestly. It…was a mistake to start sleeping together i know. We both had different intentions and i apologise if I sent you mixed feelings. Your friendship is something I value a lot and I don’t wanna lose that. So can we start over??? Just be friends this time?

You: sure i guess. Sorry if i made things uncomfortable earlier.

Ran: ur good. Ill see you later then?

You: yeah okay

You and Ran had fought many times over the course of your friendship, and each time you both were able to move on like nothing happened. But this time, it just felt different. You felt it.

~*~

“You know it’s 3 in the morning right?” Sanzu rubbed his eyes, yawning obnoxiously. “I mentally check out from 2-10am.”

“Shut up.” You dig around in his pocket and pull out a box of cigarettes. “Give me a lighter.”

“Since when do you smoke?” he asked, then tacked on, “Oh and I don’t have one.”

“Then why do you have a box of cigarettes then?!”

Sanzu blinked at your sudden outburst. “Okay first. Calm down. Inside voices, we’re outside right now.” You fought the urge to point out how contradictory it was to use your inside voice outside but let it slide. “Secondly, why are you acting so…”

“So what?”

“You know…” he looked carefully at you, trying to gauge your reaction if he were to say the words he truly wanted to say.

“If you’re about to say bitchy save it.”

“I wasn’t!”

“Then what were you going to say?” you raised your brow, waiting. He slowly closed his mouth and looked down at the floor in defeat. “Exactly,” you said triumphantly, then exhaled softly and looked around the street for any convenience stores that sell lighters.

“So can I ask why you suddenly want to smoke?”

“I’m stressed out okay?” You began walking towards the 24 hour convenience store across the street, Sanzu following behind you. “I sort of, maybe not, confessed to Ran earlier and he wanted to stay friends. So now I don’t think I can handle being in the same room as him without wanting to die.”

Sanzu yawned again, scratching his eye. “That sucks. I dunno what that has to do with me though.”

“I need company! I feel like I’m going to explode if I’m alone with myself tonight.”

The bell chimed when you both entered the store, instantly heading over to the counter to buy the lighter. The cashier went to the back to grab the lighter.

“All I’m hearing is that you missed me,” Sanzu teased, wrapping his arms around you from behind. He was expecting you to push him off like you normally do. He definitely was not expecting you to chuckle, hug him back and mildly not in agreement.

He backed away dramatically, narrowly avoiding stumbling into a display shelf and tapped your shoulder to get your attention. When you turned around, he kept staring gingerly at your face, causing you to raise your eyebrow.

“What?”

“Who are you and what did you do to my friend?”

You scoffed and rolled your eyes, pushing him away from you. The cashier handed you the lighter and you paid him, leaving the store with Sanzu behind you. Grabbing the box of cigarettes, you lit one up and exhaled for the nth time tonight.

“Do you think it’s normal for a guy to just be friends with a girl they used to have a thing with? Or if it’s normal for them to be friends with girls they know like them?”

Sanzu shrugged. “Are you asking the opinion of all men or just Ran? Because nobody knows what that guy is thinking when it comes to women. He’s way too comfortable around girls so probably? I mean, it’ll be in the back of his mind, sure, but as long as you’re not awkward around him it’ll be fine.”

“You sure?”

“Guess we’ll have to see.” He pulled the cigarette from your mouth and dropped it on the floor, stubbing it out with his foot. At your shocked face, he held his hand out. “I don’t want you taking on bad habits because you’re having an emotional meltdown.”

You huffed and crossed your arms over your chest. “I’m not having an emotional meltdown.”

“Sure…” He yawned for the fifth time tonight. “If I stay out any longer I’m going to pass out on the street. I’ll see you later, okay?” He pat you on the head, deliberately ignoring your complaint of “don’t fuck up my hair” and made his way home.

~*~

In the time you spent avoiding anything Ran related, that also meant avoiding people and situations that he was guaranteed to be there. It meant you stop hanging out with your mutual friends in groups, stopped going to parties you knew he was hosting. Was it bad your other friendships had to be jeprodized because you were too scared to confront your newfound, fresh start with Ran? Yeah, it wasn’t your proudest moment either. But it also meant you were spending a lot more time with Sanzu and Mikey. Out of everyone in his gang, they were the least close, only talking to each other with work related issues. Sanzu and Ran had this unspoken hatred with each other, that made the two of them avoid each other at all costs, not wanting to start another argument or fight.

That was great news for you because it would mean no impromptu visits, like the incident at Hanma’s house, or no unexpected calls from Ran like when you were hanging out with Kakucho, or no fear that Ran would be upstairs in his room when you were hanging out with Rindou.

Hanging out with Sanzu more often also meant getting closer with Senju. She’s two years younger than you and you treated her like a little sister. It was her birthday next weekend and Takeomi was in charge of the planning the surprise birthday party, which meant nobody had a single clue who was coming.

If that were the case, you wouldn’t have shown up that day.

“Ran. Are you going to Senju’s party?” Takeomi asked, exhaling cigarette smoke over the phone.

“Do I have to? I don’t know that girl.”

“I don’t care what you do. Just tell me so I can start planning her shit.”

“Depends honestly. Who’s going?”

Takeomi started listing off the names which included some of Senju’s college friends that Ran didn’t care about, some of their mutual friends like Sanzu (duh), Mikey, Kakucho, you, Rindou—wait, hold up.

“Wait, (y/n)’s going?” Ran cut Takeomi off mid sentence.

Takeomi grunted. “Yes.”

“Fine. I’ll go.” He hung up before Takeomi could say anything. Honestly Ran couldn’t care less about Senju, his only motivation was the thought of seeing you.

The fact he sent you that message, hoping it’ll mend whatever dent was placed in your friendship, only to get slapped in the face when you spent the last four months avoiding him pissed him off to no extent. He wasn’t blocked, he knew you wouldn’t do that to him, but he didn’t have the courage to check either. Maybe this party would be the perfect time to talk to you, to catch up and mend until he could selfishly hold you in his arms again.

He didn’t spend the whole four months pining over you, the group of girls in his bed would confirm that, but there was an unknown feeling in his chest, something always wriggling at the back of his mind that he knew distantly was caused by you. It was getting annoying, having his shitty mother’s words ringing in the back of his mind every time he thought about making up with you. It took him about three months to realise that he actually loved you, whether that was a fact he wanted to accept or not. That feeling he was deliberately avoiding, was his conscious telling him to stop self sabotaging himself and just tell you how he feels.

He can’t wait to see you next Saturday.

~*~

When Ran says he knew nothing about your life in the last four months it wasn't an exaggeration. He genuinely had no idea who you were with, what you were doing, where and when. So you could only imagine his shock when he sees you’ve somehow become best buddies with Manjiro and fucking Sanzu, the idiot currently sitting between your legs on the floor as you braided his hair.

You looked so pretty tonight, dressed up semi formal. Your hair and makeup was done in a way that Ran had never seen you in before. Senju sat beside you, talking loudly and making you laugh. Sanzu scrolled on his phone, waiting for you to finish his hair. Mikey sat next to you, his head resting on your shoulder as he looked like he was on the verge of sleep.

If you noticed him come in tonight, you sure hid it well, not even bothering to acknowledge his existence. He was planning on talking to you after Senju blew out her candles, that was until he saw what he did.

After a load of drinks, everybody was pretty tipsy, including you and Manjiro as you both made out in the patio, his hands caressing your thighs as you sat sideways on his lap. The patio was filled with Senju’s friends in the pool, the smell of barbecue (requested by Senju) filling the air as people hovered around the grill, desperate for some savoury meat. It was hard to see you and Manjiro at first, but he did, as if his eyes were automatically drawn to you no matter where in the room.

Granted he had no right to feel the way he did, he knows that, and his words from that night constantly play on loop in his mind. He told you he wanted to be just friends and you agreed to that, and friends don’t get mad at friends for having relationships. But his boss of all fucking people? He wouldn’t give this much of a fuck if it was Shion or something.

“Drink up bitch!” Sanzu shoved a cup into Ran’s hand, resting his arm on the taller boy’s shoulder as he watched Ran grimace at the beverage.

“The fuck is this supposed to be?”

“Dunno honestly. Just mixed a bunch of shit together.” Sanzu clinked his cup with his. “You’ll probably wake up tomorrow with memory loss and severe liver damage, but bon appetit.”

“I’m not drinking your mystery drink.”

“Boo. No fun.” Sanzu pouted, taking a big gulp of his drink.

“Why are you even talking to me?”

“Because you look like you’re about to kill somebody and as much as I relate to that feeling, I don’t want any drama on Senju’s birthday. She’ll never shut the fuck up about it. So drink up and enjoy the party dude.” He lifted the cup to Ran’s lips which stayed stubbornly closed until he gave in, making a face as it burned down his throat.

“See! It’s not so bad!” Sanzu slapped his back before walking away, ready to hand out samples of his new drink to random people.

Fifteen minutes later and whatever Sanzu poured in that drink did wonders, Ran couldn’t help but admit. He got over his sour funk sooner than he’d thought. The liquor running through his veins made him socialise a hundred times better and managed to snag five pretty girls’ numbers tonight. He was currently leaning against the wall, hovering beside this girl he couldn’t remember the name of for the life of him (it wasn’t his fault, he blames it on Sanzu), as she tilted up to whisper provocative things in his ear. She looked like she’d be good in bed, and that was all Ran was thinking about when he saw your hair bounce past him.

Ran looked just in time to see you disappear through a doorway, and he abruptly pulled himself away from the girl before him. “I’ll be back in a sec. Just…do whatever,” he said, not even looking at her as he walked away.

When he rounded the corner, his stomach did backflips as he saw you yell something to some people inside a room down the hallway before turning around. You almost recoiled when you saw Ran and mentally cursed the fact there was no objects, or people you could hide behind.

You pressed your lips into a wry smile and tried to walk past him before he grabbed your arm, stopping you. “What, so you’re not talking to me at all now?”

“Okay, calm down. It’s been like four months.”

“Which is a long time?” His phone lit up in his hand, a text message of a girl asking where he is with a string of sad faces emojis, and to add fuel to the fire, a tongue and water splash emoji. Ran clicked his tongue and made a mental note to block her when he’s done with this.

You scoffed. “Sorry I hadn’t been able to entertain you these last four months, Ran. I just assumed girls 1 though 56 had it handled for me.”

“The fuck is that supposed to mean,” he said curtly, shoving his phone back in his pocket.

You looked up at him, mouth in a thin line as you hissed, “Exactly how it sounds. Now I have somewhere to be.” You tried to skirt past him but he blocked your way out. He suddenly felt too big, too close, and your simmering temper was beginning to surface. “Ran seriously move.” You tried pushing his chest, but it didn’t work.

“Why? So you can go back to sucking face with Mikey?” Shut up…please, just shut up, sober Ran was yelling inside his head, but the words just came out before he could stop them. Note to self, never drink anything from Sanzu ever again.

“Sucking face? Why are you…why do you even care?! You’re the one that said “I don’t want a relationship right now” so you don’t get a right to act all possessive over me and shit. Just because you’re too emotionally stunted to maintain a goddamn relationship, doesn’t mean everybody else is like that.” Your chest burnt with anger at his fucking audacity. Seriously, who does he think he is?

“What, so you want a relationship with Mikey, that it? Someone’s who is even more emotionally stunted than everybody in this fucking party combined?”

“And if I do? Is that your business? Whatever my decision is, it’s not up to you. Now get out of my way.” You leaned in close to his face as you glared up at him. His anger gave way into something more heated that made him lick his lips, wondering how you’d react if he were to kiss you right now. You were about to attempt to walk away when Kakucho stumbled out of one of the rooms in the hallway, slightly tipsy.

“What’s going on? Why are you yelling?”

“Kakucho. Get your boy and tell him to leave me the fuck alone.” You pointed at Ran who snapped out of his stupor.

“Ran, let her leave.”

“Not till I get my answers.”

You pinched your temples, not even bothering to lower your voice as you yelled in sheer frustration, “What answers Ran?! I don’t owe you shit!”

“What’s going on?” Mikey stumbled out of the room you were exiting earlier and his arm instantly found itself on your waist. You were still seething, your heavy breathing only calming down once Mikey’s hand curled a little more around you, pulling you flush against his side.

“Nothing. Let’s go,” you said softly to Mikey, letting him lead you back to the room.

Ran’s anger returned tenfold upon seeing your hand hold Mikey back. “Since when are you two such good friends?”

“That’s none of your damn business,” you yelled back from the end of the hallway, your grip around Mikey tightening significantly.

“Don’t tell me you’re fucking him now? What is he your new boy toy? You’re that desperate?”

Kakucho slapped a hand on his forehead, regretting not pulling Ran away before he had the chance.

You froze at the door, turning to look at him. In the years of your friendship with Ran, he’d seen you get angry many times, yelling at characters in movies when they do something stupid, yelling at him over the mic when you were playing video games. And in every one of those instances, he was never on the receiving end of your anger. The look you gave him, if it could, would’ve turned him to stone with how irate you looked right now. Dimly, he knew what he was doing was wrong, and if he was sober enough he would've definitely stopped himself from saying those things, but he was hurt, and angry, and those two combinations had him feeling like he had a right to make you feel the same way.

“I’m sorry, what?” You stepped out of Mikey’s grip. “Oh this is fucking rich. The irony right now, holy shit!” You began laughing. “If what I’m doing is considered “desperate” to you, then what does that make you? Pathetic? Huh? Needing fifty girls attention on you every second of every fucking day doesn’t seem desperate to you?”

Your loud laughter began to draw people in the party towards the hallway, interested in the loud argument going on. Kakucho grabbed Ran’s arm, shaking his head as if he could read his thoughts. “Don’t respond. Let’s just go.”

Ran shoved his hand off him, sending Kakucho back against the wall. “Nah I’m gonna respond.” He turned back to you, uncaring of all the eyes watching the scene take place. “You stay bringing up these girls in every single conversation I have with you and shame them like you weren’t proud to be one of them months ago.”

Your eyebrows rose in surprise. “So that’s all I was? A number to you? Enlighten me Ran, what number was I? 34? 52?”

“What fucking difference does it make if you know.”

“It makes no difference. I just want to hear you say it.” You closed the distance between you both and poked a finger into his chest. “I wanna hear you say that you enjoy ruining girls lives by making them fall for you with your shitty words and affection, then running away the second things get serious because you’re a coward afraid of stability.”

He pretended your words didn’t cut as deep as they did, pretended your words didn’t take him back to his mother’s birthday all those months ago, sitting at that table and listening to her spew hot garbage in his face about his personality and issues that he refused to acknowledge.

“That wasn’t the case with you. I didn’t tell you to fall for me.”

“That wasn’t the case? So I’m somehow different? How so?”

“Because—” Even in his drunken mind, he knew telling you he loved you now would only pull you further away than you already were. He pressed his lips in a thin line, and looked away from your oppressive stare. “It doesn’t matter.”

“Because your reasoning doesn’t exist, Ran. Stop searching for nothing. You’re a shitty person and you need to acknowledge that.” You pulled your finger away from his chest and turned around, lowering your voice to almost a whisper. “Now just stay out of my life.”

He didn’t say anything and only watched you approach Mikey again, the man not even bothering to look at Ran the entire time as he took you inside the room, closing it shut. Ran’s ears were burning and his chest clenched as he realised the gravity of what he’d just done. So much for making amends.

You went home and instantly blocked his number and cried yourself to sleep that night, regretting even messing with him to begin with.

~*~

“Are you sure this is safe?” you asked, looking around the strange alleyway surrounding you.

“Don’t be a fucking wuss! Besides, I can fight remember? Nobody’s touching me tonight.”

“Yeah but…underground clubs are scary.”

“I know but that’s what makes this so exciting! Come on, let’s go!” She held your hand firm and tightly in her hand, giving you a reassurance squeeze that did nothing to help calm your raging nerves.

“Imagine your brother finds you here tonight,” you laughed.

“Oh fuck. Takeomi would probably lock me in a house with no contact to the outside world for years,” Senju responded, shivering at the thought. She led you down the stairs and opened the janky door, leading you inside the club.

The rest of the night proceeded as follows, Senju getting drunk out of her mind; she nearly passed out on the floor from dancing too much, and you guarded the drinks, making sure nobody gets roofied tonight. This club was known for being shady, with drug transactions being held in the bathrooms of this place, and not just regular drugs, hardcore drugs. You had to use the bathroom and decided holding your pee in was much better than relieving yourself in a bathroom that had a woman passed out on the floor after taking too much drugs.

It was scary, and you had your guard up every second, and only felt relieved when you were carrying Senju outside, back through the alleyway to call for a taxi home. “It was soooooo much fun today. I loved it,” she slurred as you picked her up, struggling to hold her upright.

“Yeah yeah I know. You told me this fifty times already,” you laughed lightly. “Come on, help me a little bit. I can’t carry you all the way, you’re too heavy!”

“I can’t feel my legs~”

“Oh for fucks sake.” You set her agaisnt the wall and caught your breath. You pulled out your phone and decided you had no other choice. You were calling her brother.

“Who are you calling?” she asked after hearing the phone ring.

“Your brother.”

All traces of alcohol left her body as she practically screamed, “YOU’RE CALLING MY BROTHER?!”

“Relax! It’s Sanzu, not Takeomi. I considered Sanzu would be more understanding about this. It’s not like he and Omi are on speaking terms anymore.”

“Yeah but…”

“It’ll be okay, I promise,” you reassured her, patting her head.

“Hullloooo?” Sanzu’s voice rang through the speakers and you instantly perked up.

“Sanzu! Hey! We kinda need your help right now.”

“‘M sorta busy right now. Is it urgent?”

“Senju’s kind of passed out right now and I need help taking her home. I can’t do it myself.”

“Senju’s WHAT?!” Takeomi’s voice boomed through the phone; Senju shivered in fear.

“Sanzu! Why’d you put me on speaker phone you idiot!”

“So I can hear you better! Nothing’s wrong with that!”

You groaned and slapped a hand over your face, whispering sorry to Senju who looked like she was already planning her funeral.

“Where are you guys right now?” Takeomi asked, sounding positively furious.

You gulped, Senju rapidly shaking her head no no no no. “We’re at this club…” you admitted, giving him the address.

“Wait, that club?” Sanzu perked up. “That place is like known for hardcore ass shit bro. Don’t tell me Senju took anything from there?”

“...she did.”

“Ah shit. Yeah, okay. Coming. It’s really close from here Takeomi. Don’t worry, lets’ go.” He turned his attention back to his phone. “You two. Stay right there—”

“You girls look pretty lonely by yourself.” The three of you froze as a deep voice spoke from behind you. You felt time pass in slow motion as you turned around to look at a guy waiting by the club’s backdoor.

“We’re not lonely,” you said slowly. “Thanks for your concern though.”

Senju stood up on shaky legs and clutched onto your arms when she felt his stare on her body. “Yeah, we’re fine.”

“Who is that?” Sanzu asked from the phone.

“I don’t know,” you whispered back, clutching the phone tightly.

“Seriously don’t move. We’re heading out right now. All of us, okay?”

“Okay okay.” You had no clue who “all of us” meant, but you didn’t care, not when the guy slowly stepped away from the wall and began walking towards you both. You missed Sanzu calling for Ran to come in the car with them, your attention solely focused on this strange man in front of you.

“How old are you girls?” he asked, not even bothering to hide the shameless way he was gazing you both up and down.

“It’s none of your business,” Senju spat, slowly stepping back when he began walking forward.

“It’s rude to not answer a question.”

“It’s even ruder to ask personal questions to strangers!”

“Senju, stop. You’re provoking him.” You squeezed her arm roughly, digging your nails into her arm.

“I don’t care! I hate men like him that think they’re entitled to us!”

“Men like me, huh? Go on, babe. Enlighten me on men like me.”

“Senju just ignore him,” you whispered, panic filling you when you looked down at your phone to see Sanzu had already hung up. “Sorry but we really have to get going,” you said to the man, bowing slightly before grabbing Senju’s hand and beginning to walk away from him.

You could hear his footsteps behind you and began walking faster until the point where you were running away towards the end of the alley. The end of the alley seemed so far away with how small your vision was as you panicked hearing him begin to run after you. Senju was a faster runner than you and grabbed your hand tightly, leading the way as you both bolted as fast as you could.

“Stop running girls! I just wanna touch you!” he screamed out, laughing obnoxiously. He was clearly high on something.

Senju bumped into the chest of Takeomi at the end of the alley, and the man came to stop upon seeing Sanzu exit the car, a manic smile on his face.

“You wanna touch my sister huh?” Takeomi gritted out.

“Wow, uh I didn’t mean for—I didn’t know she was—”

Sanzu walked up to him and placed a hand on his shoulder. “I think we should have a little chat, huh? Come with me.” He had this strangely friendly smile on his face that sent shivers down your spine.

Your heart was beating out of your chest and you barely heard Takeomi telling you both to get in the car. He and Sanzu stayed behind and taught the man a lesson, and Senju slipped in the back, taking up all three seat as she laid down, exhausted.

You had no choice to sit in the front seat. The windows were tinted so you didn’t see Ran until you opened the door. You blinked uselessly at him, fingers tightening against the handle. “What are you doing here?”

“Saving your stupid ass, that’s what. Now get in.”

You swallowed whatever retort you had because he wasn’t lying, and as much as you shouldn’t a part of you felt relieved to see a familiar face after that incident. You slipped in the front seat and slammed the door behind you, putting your seatbelt on and looking straight ahead.

Ran got the order from Takeomi to take Senju home first and so he began driving towards the Akashi household. Senju was dead to the world in the backseat, drooling partially on the seat as the fatigue from running finally hit.The two of you sat in silence the entire ride, and Ran exited the car to put Senju inside once they arrived. He locked the door behind him and re-entered the car to see you facing the opposite way, staring out the window.

No other words were said as he dropped you back at your house, and you were surprised you both said nothing to each other the entire time. After sitting in silence outside your house for a while, Ran finally broke the silence.

“Are you fucking stupid?” Ran scolded. “What made you think coming to an underground club was a good fucking idea?”

“Oh sorry, I was just playing the role of the dumb desperate slut that can’t keep her legs closed. Sorry if I gave you a fright.”

“Listen to me,” he said sharply, making you snap your mouth shut. “You could’ve died tonight if we weren’t here tonight you know that? That place you went to, that’s not for girls like you. Not for girls like Senju either. I don’t know what fucking possessed you to be acting this fucking recklessly, but I just hope you know what you experienced tonight was a wake up call. You aren’t built for this goddamn lifestyle, so stop trying to act like you are.”

“...you’re right. I’m sorry, Ran.” You looked down at your lap when the tears started to drop from your eyes. “Tonight was so scary, I genuinely don’t know what would’ve happened if you weren’t there.”

Ran sighed and you kept sniffling as you heard his door open before slamming shut. You watched him round the car and open it on your end. “W-what are you—”

He carried you out of the car, your legs wrapping around his waist as he kicked the door closed behind him, walking up to your front door. He set you down on the ground and held his hand out. “Keys.”

You swallowed and reached inside your purse, pulling them out and into his hand. He unlocked your front door and once again carried you inside, locking the door behind you. He led you upstairs to your bedroom and set you down on your bed.

You watched in confusion as he walked over to your chest of drawers and began searching for your pyjamas. Once in hand, he tossed them next to you on the bed, and then walked into your ensuite bathroom. You heard him turn the shower on.

“Get changed and come in here,” he said from the bathroom.

You stripped out from your dress and entered the bathroom, not even bothering to cover yourself in his presence, nothing he hasn’t seen before anyway. He was in the midst of taking his shirt off when you stepped into the shower, the warm water running down your body as you waited for him to join you.

You stared at your feet when he grabbed your soap, placing some on his hand before lavashing your body with soap, rubbing them along your arms and sides.

“What are you doing Ran?” you finally asked as he bent down to wash your legs.

“What I should’ve done months ago.” His tone left no space for a remark from you, so you stayed silent and let him do what he had to you. Once you were washed clean, he turned the shower off and stepped out of the shower, grabbing a towel and wrapped it around your body. “Go and get changed.”

“You need a towel too. I’ll go get one.” You quickly towelled yourself dry before stepping out, returning with an unused towel from your storage. “Here.”

“Thanks.”

You entered your bedroom and got changed into the clothes he picked out for you, then handed him some clothes of his you kept when he used to sleep over all those months ago. You sat on the bed and listened to him change.

“Are you going to sleep over?” you asked, looking up at him.

“You want me to?”

You nodded slowly, getting into bed. He followed you, giving you some space as he laid down beside you. He had his back facing you, turned away from you and you frowned at the lack of attention.

“...Ran?” you tested, seeing if he was asleep or not.

“What?”

“Why don’t you want me?” you whispered, remembering the last time you were in your bed together.

“Because I don’t deserve you,” he responded, voice flat and devoid of any emotion.

“Huh?” you asked, confused.

He turned around and looked at you, your eyes glossy with fresh tears. “I uh. I spoke to my mom a few months ago.” Your eyes widened, knowing the estranged relationship he has with her. Why didn’t he tell you this?

“I spoke to her and she uh, gave me a fucking reality check.”

“What did she say?” You shifted closer, close enough that you could see and finally notice the eyebags under his eyes, like he hasn’t had a good night sleep in time, which was strange for Ran as he savours sleep more than anything else in the world.

“A lot,” he sighed exhaustedly, rubbing a hand over his forehead. “Said I was a lot like my old man. That was I was emotionally stunted, sadistic, and a downright shitty person.” His chuckle was so emotionless, you almost reached out and hugged him, but stayed still as he wasn’t finished talking. “Worst thing was she’s right. I can’t savour relationships for my fucking life and when I actually felt something for the first damn time, I fucked things up and ruined it. Nobody else did that. I did. I’m responsible for that shit. I don’t wanna bring you down and you deserve better than me, whether you wanna admit that shit or not.”

He took a moment and you were unsure if you should respond or not. When you were about to, he continued.

“She told me I’d ruin your life if I pursed you. Told me I was being fucking selfish. Can you believe that shit? And you know what, I fucking believed her. I thought I would do that, that’s why I pushed you away. I wanted you all to myself which is why I continued sleeping with you, which was wrong of me I know, but you seemed happy which is why I didn’t think much of it. Then you had to go fuck with my goddamn head and tell me you wanted me too.”

“...sorry,” you whispered, feeling the breath sweep out from your lungs.

“It’s not your fault, dummy. It’s mine. I—In that moment I should’ve been selfish. I know I should’ve, and every fucking day I regret not doing that shit. But as usual I fucked things up again, then you were gone. I thought we could still be friends so I could at least see you again, but nope. You distanced yourself from me.”

Another tear fell from your eyes, wetting your pillow the longer you heard him talk. “I’m sorry.”

“Stop apologising. You did the right thing. Keeping you as a friend would’ve been selfish of me. You clearly distanced yourself because you wanted to get over me, but I wanted you all for myself and wanted you in my life at all times, even if that wasn’t what you wanted. Once again, proving my ma right. I’m fucking selfish. Then that stupid party happened and just seeing you with Manjiro made me want to lose my shit. The fact that I wasn’t able to have you because as a guy living this type of lifestyle, it would be considered selfish. But yet Mikey was? How come he was allowed to be selfish and I wasn’t?”

“It’s not selfish Ran,” you finally got a word in. “I didn’t even like Mikey like that. We were just drunk and horny. I never dated him. In fact, I hadn’t dated anyone since I was with you. Nobody else made me feel the way you made me feel and it was selfish of me to want you when you didn’t want me back at that time. We’re allowed to be selfish Ran. Don’t let that stop you from getting what you want.”

Ran’s eyes were wide as he listened to you talk. When you finished, he shook his head. “My level of selfish and yours aren’t the same. In my world, if you’re vulnerable it can get you killed, or put in a bad situation where you have to take a live, or have yours taken. You don’t need to be involved in that. That’s why I can’t be selfish.”

“But—”

“No. Buts. Go find a nice accountant to date or whatever. You don’t need me tying your life down.”

You frowned. “I don’t want an accountant though.”

“Why not? You always said you wanted to marry rich.”

You shifted closer, flush against his. “I never said it had to be good money though.” You pressed a kiss to his cheek.

He looked down at you. “You’re fucking crazy,” he said with a light laugh, and you were happy you were able to break the ice.

You wrapped your arms around his shoulder, pulling him closer till your noses touched. “You love it though.”

“Damn right I do.”

#—tr </3 #ran x reader #haitani ran x reader #ran haitani x reader #tokyorev x reader #tokrev #tokrev x reader #haitani ran smut #ran smut #tokrev smut

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snixkers · 2 months

Text

Lost & Found

Pairing: Spencer Reid × GN!Reader

Angst

For: Anonymous Request

Summary: After receiving notes from an unknown sender, you realize that your stalker is closer than you thought.

Content Warning: Abduction, stalking, restraints, canon compliant violence

Author's Note: Did my best! Anon wanted a PLL storyline, so I tried to incorporate that as best as I could.

Feedback is always welcome!

Requests are OPEN

It had been a week since the flowers had shown up on your doorstep with a note from ‘A’. You were certainly confused. You’d never dated anyone with a name that had an A, and none of your friends were confessing to it, so you were sure it was probably a fluke on the part of the delivery man.

Until it happened again. You were sitting at your desk when you got a call from an unknown number. You picked up, assuming it was a spam or a butt dial, when the voice spoke up.

How was work today?

The words sent a chill down your spine. Once could be written off as a mistake, but two times was enough to confirm what you were worried about. You had a stalker. Before you could reply, the caller hung up, leaving you dumbfounded at your desk.

You told the team, and they all did their best, but there wasn’t much even Garcia could do. The call had been traced to a payphone, and the flowers were paid for in cash. On the security cameras, the man was wearing enough to obscure any details that would have been important for identification. He was good.

The next couple weeks, you resigned yourself to just putting up with it. You carried pepper spray, tasers, anything you could. Your commute was now carpooling, and you used the buddy system to the best of your ability. But one day, the batteries in your smoke detector went out, meaning you were officially going insane from the noise.

You slipped into some sneakers to head to the convenience store down the street, grabbing your keys and phone.The streets were dark, with the occasional car passing by. You made your way inside and searched for the batteries before finally coming across a pack of AAs. The man standing at the register watched you come up, scan your items, and swipe your card. As you picked the package up, you noticed his nametag: Alex.

Oh, shit.

Something hit the back of your head and you passed out cold.

-----

The team had been searching for you relentlessly, calling in every favor possible. They tracked your credit card to the corner store, where they watched the cashier come up behind you and take you out. They found out he didn’t even work there, but they were able to track his car to a man named Alex Pinof.

The team pulled up outside his house, guns raised and ready to go. Derek kicked the door down and they swarmed the building, clearing the rooms. They found you in the basement, bound and gagged but otherwise unharmed. Hotch went to arrest Alex while Emily untied you, leading you out of the basement and up to the main floor.

Spencer pulled you into a tight hug and you returned the favor, gripping him as tight as possible.

“I was scared you weren’t going to find me.”

He shook his head, burying his face in the top of your head and giving it a small kiss.

“I’ll always find you.”

#criminal minds #criminal minds fandom #criminal minds fanfiction #writers on tumblr #fanfic #emily prentiss #spencer reid #spencer reid x reader #spencer reid hurt/comfort #pretty little liars

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deanstead · 2 months

Text

Low Effort

Pairing: Jay Halstead x Reader

Requested: no

Summary: Y/N gets a surprise visit, which triggers some unpleasant symptoms

Word Count: 1k+

Tags/Warnings: mentions of stomach cramps, slight allusion to anxiety, negative emotions

A/N: Long time no see! This is a thing I needed to get off my chest and needed to get the emotions out, so it’s just some Jay comfort/fluff. Also, a warning that I haven’t written in so long, this kind of feels a bit meh, so I hope I haven’t lost too much of my writing touch LOL

JAY HALSTEAD MASTERLIST

You closed your laptop shut, just as your phone lit up with a notification about a new message from Jay.

Sorry, got held up. 10 minutes. Tops.

You smiled, typing a quick response of acknowledgment to tell him not to hurry before you got up, grabbing your bag. You were too fried to continue anything else so you figured you would just go and wait for him. Fresh air was better than whatever was coming through the office vents.

As the glass doors of the main entrance on the first floor slid open and you felt the chill of the Chicago winds hit your face, you sighed. Fresh air was definitely better.

“Y/N.”

You glanced up, your eyebrows naturally bunching together at the sound of a woman’s voice.

As your eyes met hers, you froze for a moment, your brain still processing the fact that she was here.

“Amy?” Her name slipped past your lips before you could stop yourself, even though the only emotion you were feeling at this moment was surprise. There was nothing positive or negative about it.

Amy could feel it in your voice as well. “Can we talk? I’ve missed you.”

You frowned as a cramp shot through your lower abdomen.

“I thought we were better friends than this. Low-maintenance, remember?” Amy said, and you could hear the tone in her voice, the one she used when she was upset or disappointed.

The feeling of indignation shot through you once again.

“Yeah, low maintenance, not low effort.”

Your voice was low but you didn’t let the emotion sway it. You spent years telling yourself that it was just a low-maintenance friendship, that you were both just busy, but you couldn’t ignore the way she’d reappear in front of you only when she needed your support, or when the guy she was seeing was out of town.

You glanced up at the street but hadn’t seen Jay’s car yet.

You exhaled. “Look, Amy. You have your priorities, I get it. Just don’t expect me to drop mine when you blow back into town or when your boyfriend doesn’t have time for you. It doesn’t work that way.”

You felt the cramps intensify and knew what it was. You called it “emotional cramps” with Jay, joking that as long as he kept you happy you’d be fine. Yet, here they were again. Maybe it was because you hadn’t had them in a while, you felt them more intensely now.

You put a hand on your stomach as you looked up at Amy. As expected, she had an indignant look on her face.

“How could you say that, Y/N? I know the fact that I was seeing Trevor was a sore spot with you because you weren’t seeing anyone so I didn’t want to make things harder for you. But now…”

You couldn't even respond as the pain ripped through you once again and you bent forward slightly, your knees buckling a little. You braced yourself for the impact of your knees hitting the concrete sidewalk when you felt his arms around you.

“Babe, what’s wrong?”

Jay.

Amy seemed stunned for a moment before she spoke again, “It must be her…”

“Why’s it acting up?” Jay asked, his entire focus on you as you glanced up at him and quietly shook your head.

Jay glanced up at Amy. They didn’t know each other since you’d met Jay sometime after contact between you and Amy had dwindled to almost nothing. By the time you and Jay had started dating, you’d made up your mind to let go of Amy and this friendship, and it had merely nagged at you a little at the back of your mind from time to time so you hadn’t brought her up.

“Come on, we’re going to Med,” Jay said quietly, pulling you upright.

You glanced at him. “Don’t you dare carry me,” You warned.

Despite the worried look in his eyes, Jay smiled. “We’re going to Will.” He repeated, almost like he was daring you to argue.

You didn’t argue. Partly because all you wanted to do was get out of there but partly because you knew it was useless. Besides, the pain was more intense than you remembered.

Without a second glance back, Jay helped you into the car and drove off, both of you leaving Amy still standing on the sidewalk.

You knew what had triggered the attack, so after getting medication for the pain and cramping, you’d been feeling much better.

“You know I’d be feeling even better if you would stop hovering, Detective.” You said, directing the comment at your boyfriend.

Will smiled as he tapped on the iPad in his hand and glanced at his brother. “She’s fine. Her tests are normal, and it was probably just a one-off stress-related attack.”

You nodded. “I’ll follow up with my therapist, I promise.”

Will ruffled your hair affectionately and you growled because he knew you hated it.

“I’ll get the discharge started.”

Jay was quiet as he leaned over you, pressing a gentle kiss to your forehead. “You sure you’re okay?”

You nodded, before you glanced back down.

“Amy’s an old friend.” You said, after a while. "At least, she was."

Jay didn’t say anything, so you continued, telling him about how Amy was when she started dating anyone, and it only progressively got worse. “And it’s not about seeing her often, you know? It’s just…”

Jay nodded. “You didn’t feel like she cared.”

You sighed quietly. “I just… it got to a point where I realized she didn’t care. I was a friend when she needed me, and when she didn’t, I just… didn’t exist. And apparently, to her, that’s me being sore.”

Jay just took your hand in his, gently stroking your fingers.

“But I just realized it was better to have no one than to be treated that way, so I just…”

“You don’t have to explain anything to me,” Jay said quietly. “Listen, someone who gives you low effort doesn’t deserve you. I don’t care who they are. Anyone who makes you feel this way doesn’t deserve even one percent of you.”

You looked up at him and smiled, a little sadness hidden behind it.

“I guess seeing her today just brought it all back, you know? And then it triggered all those emotions and then my stomach cramps decided to join the party.” You made a face.

Jay smiled quietly back at you. “But you know what? You’re not alone. At least not anymore.”

You smiled and leaned forward for a hug. Jay perched by the edge of the bed, pulling you gently into his arms and you buried your face into his shoulders, feeling his arms encircle your entire body.

“I know.” You whispered.

Jay kissed the top of your head. “Good.”

THANK YOU FOR READING!! PLEASE TELL ME WHAT YOU THOUGHT OF THIS!!

If you want to support me, buy me a coffee!

#resa.fics #jay halstead #jay halstead x reader #chicago pd #chicago pd x reader #jay halstead imagine #jay halstead oneshot #jay halstead fanfiction #jay halstead x you #jay halstead x y/n

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emepe · 1 month

Text

— Pairing: Eren x Reader, friends to lovers

— General info: series, 18+, modern AU, serial killer AU, smut, fluff, angst, hurt/comfort

— Summary: Fate is a tricky thing. Certain situations can’t be avoided as much as certain people’s lives can’t be kept from intertwining. With a serial killer on the loose, and unexpected relationships blooming, how will the universe intervene?

— Chapter summary: A simple dinner party leads to new relations. Eren Jaeger can't keep his eyes off of you.

— Content warnings: mentions of murder, alcohol consumption.

— Notes: I'm so excited to post the first chapter to my new series. I've been wanting to write again for two years now and I finally got hit with inspiration. This is a little different from my usual stuff, but I hope you'll like it. A special thank you to @dreamy-jaeger for beta-reading <3 Happy reading, bubs!

Links: Read on AO3 | Chapter guide | Masterlist

at first sight

Nobody ever said anything about the desperate cries that could be faintly heard from one of the units in Sina Park. Then again, the surrounding houses were occupied by people well into the age when sound just doesn’t reach them as well as it did even just a few years back.

Sina Park was known for being a peaceful area. With its small and painterly identical houses, and its gardens full of color and floral aromas, it was a picture-perfect community. It wasn’t embedded into its terms to remain strictly as senior-only housing but the great majority of its residents certainly gave off that idea to any outsider. It was to the point where it came as a surprise for one to find out there was someone under the age of sixty living there. But everyone in Sina was well acquainted with each other, and friendliness was practically the norm between every carefree neighbor.

That was probably why Mr. Shadis didn’t bat an eye when he was enjoying a cup of tea on his front porch and he saw the youngest of the Sina community step out with a duffel bag that was promptly thrown into the trunk of his car, the same night silence reclaimed its territory in Sina Gardens.

“A bit chilly tonight, eh Fred?” Mr. Shadis asked from his side of the street, raising his hand in greeting when he saw his neighbor walk out.

The young man tossed a boyish smile toward his elder while reciprocating his wave.

“Just a bit, Mr. Shadis. You probably shouldn’t be out much longer or you’ll catch a cold,” he replied, still smiling as he slammed his trunk shut and smoothly tossed his car key in the air with his left hand, catching it swiftly with his right.

“Me? What about you?” Shadis teased.

“I’ve still got good bones,” he joked to which Shadis clicked his tongue, feigning hurt feelings as he shook his head.

“You be careful on the road now, eh Fred?” he said, watching the young man disappear into his car, his hand lagging behind to wave goodbye.

The car peeled slowly from its driveway, out of Sina Park, and onto the main road. As the speedometer needle trembled between steady numbers, music flowed softly through the car’s speakers, barely loud enough to disguise the disgusted voice that murmured “That’s not my name, you stupid fuck.”

The early autumn breeze pins your skirt against your thighs and playfully tussles your hair as you hurry toward the bakery on the corner of the street. You’re welcomed by the pleasant jingle of the bell above the door, as well as Kuchel’s warm interior that puts a stop to the outside’s disturbances on your clothes.

A slight impatience consumes you as you wait for your turn to order, but you try to keep your booted feet from tapping against the hardwood floor and settle for tapping your fingers on your wallet as you try to assess the available baked goods from your spot in line. There’s a variety of sweet and salty treats — from jumbo oatmeal cookies to pain au chocolat to rolls — but you’ve only got a single thing in mind. A breath of relief escapes your lightly chapped lips when you get close enough to see a neatly stacked pyramid of lemon bars in the display, and a second one after you have a box of them secured in your hands minutes later.

A satisfied smirk tugs lightly at your lips as you allow yourself to admire the neatly packaged treats. As you make your way to the door, the bell dings, pulling your attention from the box and saving you from clumsily bumping into the man who just walked in. The exchange is brief; he quickly apologizes for the avoided accident and holds the door open for you with a shy smile.

You don’t reciprocate his warm smile but opt for politely nodding in acknowledgment and thanking him for the gesture before hurrying out the door, not wanting to prolong his act of kindness more than necessary. You take a sharp turn toward the nearest bus stop, completely oblivious to the lingering pair of emerald eyes that steal one last glance at you from inside the bakery.

Once again, the wind teases your hair until it finds itself locked out by the shutting door of the bus you settle into. Your hand dives into your purse to retrieve your earbuds as soon as you find a seat, yet no music plays throughout your journey. The box from the bakery remains safely in your lap, the contents being lightly jostled now and then when the bus stops to pick up more passengers.

From the bakery to the bus and for the twenty-minute commute, you go over the names of the people you’ll be meeting in your head.

It’s not often that you get invited to a coworker’s housewarming party. It’s not often that you form a friendly relationship with a coworker. In fact, it’s not often that you engage with someone at all unless it’s for work or other impersonal things. But Armin Arlert’s nice. Despite being the kind of person who can’t seem to let the purposely lonely be lonely, you’ve taken a liking to him.

His friends, you think, might be a different story. It’s not that you expect them to be dreadful people, but socializing has never been your scene. You can be pleasant, laugh at jokes, and perhaps even throw one out yourself, but it’s not in you to pursue deeper connections. You’re more at ease keeping to yourself and observing if anything. However, the hopeful look on Armin’s face during your lunch break last week, when he insisted he wanted you at his party, has been popping up in your head at all hours so you feel as though you have no choice but to go beyond your standard pleasantries.

Your plan for surviving the evening is simple. Get there a few hours early so you can help cook, clean, or anything else Armin might need help with before his friends arrive. Partly because that’s what your altruistic nature steers you to do, but also because you’re hoping you can get a refresher course on what Armin's friends are like so you know what to expect and how to act. If they’re all friends of Armin, maybe it’ll be worth it for you to put some genuine intention behind your courtesies. After all, being friends with Armin hasn’t been difficult so far. You dare to even call it nice. Maybe it’s time for you to make at least one more friend.

Armin’s kitchen is bustling with energy as he and his friends move from one spot to another, swiftly keeping out of each other’s way in perfect sync to finish dinner preparations.

“I still can’t believe every single one of you bought me a candle… and the same one to top it all off,” Armin shakes his head in amusement, his mind recalling the small cluster of ocean-scented candles he left on the living room coffee table.

Despite his constant assurance that he’d take full responsibility for the food and drinks — he was the one to bring up the idea of a housewarming party first, so it only made sense —, all of his friends arrived little by little before noon to help out with the cooking. First was Mikasa who, as soon as Armin opened the door, handed him the gift bag with a smile, congratulating him on the move and saying she hoped her present would help make the place a little cozier.

Then came Connie and Sasha who, despite being roommates, failed to coordinate their gift choices and only realized they bought the same thing when Armin opened Sasha’s bag first and Connie’s jaw dropped in absolute horror. It only got funnier from there. Jean barely stuck the carefully wrapped gift box toward Armin when Mikasa muttered under her breath “It’s a good day for candle sales”.

“Well, you like candles, and the ocean is pretty much your brand, dude. Don’t blame us.” Jean shrugs, not bothering to peel his focused gaze from the carrots he’s grating.

“The last time I even talked about the ocean I was, like, fifteen. Almost ten years ago!”

Everyone knows Armin loves the long-term supply of ocean-scented candles, and what may seem like complaints to outsiders is just another bit they’ve all dragged on from their youth.

But Connie still seems a bit lost. His hands pause from sprinkling rosemary leaves on the potato wedges Mikasa neatly laid out on a baking tray.

“So you’re not fucking with the ocean anymore?” he asks with an uncharacteristically serious expression that causes Jean to sputter a laugh before disguising it as a cough.

“Ignore them,” Sasha prompts, rolling her eyes. Her lips then stretch into a suggestive grin. “Tell us about the girl you invited over. Before she gets here, you have to tell us for real this time, are you into her? Do we need to talk you up? I’m the best wingwoman, Armin. I will make her love you even if it kills me.” Sasha’s hands fall heavily onto Armin’s shoulders as if to back up her conviction.

Armin furrows his brow in mild exasperation. This was the second time he’d been harrowed with that string of questions, which didn’t seem like much, but it took a while for him to get his friends to drop the topic the first time around. He shakes his head and peels Sasha’s hands from his form, fixing them firmly at her sides.

“I already told you it’s not like that. And I don't think human sacrifice is needed, Sash. We’re friends. I just want her to meet you guys… and Eren, of course.”

Nobody picks up on the short pause before Eren’s name or Armin’s sly expression that he’s quick to hide by turning to face the sink.

“She’s a bit quiet but she’s really nice. I think she’ll be a nice addition to our group. You’ll like her, I promise. Just go a little easy, okay?” Armin pauses as he tugs on a pair of dishwashing gloves to whip around one last time. “And don’t say anything weird! I swear I’m telling the truth.”

“Okay,” Jean replies in a sing-songy voice. Armin turns to shoot him a threatening look upon hearing his teasing tone, only to find Jean pointing a stern finger in his direction, “But if you change your mind, I got you, bro.”

Armin only smiles in response, not willing to spare any more breath in correcting him, and starts washing the dishes. Before he can finish scrubbing the bowl in his hands, the doorbell rings and he rushes to pry himself free from his dishwashing gloves before heading to the intercom, glancing back to make sure everyone is still keeping busy.

“It’s me,” a slightly fuzzy version of your voice comes through the speaker.

He buzzes you in immediately and steps into the hall to wait for you.

When he sees you round the corner, his face breaks out into a grin.

“Hey, you made it!”

Your lips quirk into a small smile. Armin makes way for you to step inside.

“I thought I could get here a little early to help you with the food. I hope that’s okay.” Your voice trembles a bit at the end, and you start to worry when you realize Armin’s grin has faded.

“Actually, everything is pretty much done already. Everyone got here around noon, and they kind of took over.”

As if on cue, a burst of laughter hits your ears from where you assume the kitchen is.

You manage to let out a slow ‘oh’.

Your simple plan has officially backfired. Since Armin's friends are already here, and since he's had no shortage of hands to help him prepare for his get-together, there's nothing left for you to do. More importantly, there’s no more window for you to ask questions. You hoped you’d be the first to arrive, and each arrival after that would be spaced out so you had enough time to get a feel on every one of Armin’s friends on their own. Now that that’s out the window, you start to worry the dynamics will be a bit too awkward between you and however many there are of them. It’s a battlefield now. Too many factors, too many things to worry about. Headfirst, no safety net, no baby steps.

Almost as if he can sense your panic through your otherwise expressionless face, Armin smiles.

“Don't worry about it, they're nice.”

Your fingers curl tighter around the box of desserts. There's a permanent knot in your stomach that twists further, reminding you of its presence, in situations like this. Your mind flashes a jumble of different scenarios and all the possibilities for outcomes without letting you actually process or make sense of any of it.

And in the next instant, you're back.

“I brought some lemon bars from Kuchel.” You raise the box just enough for the movement to catch Armin’s eye.

His face lights up when he looks down at the box in your hands and he immediately takes hold of it.

“I freakin’ love these! Thank you!”

Relief washes over your previously tensed features. Of course, you already knew these specific lemon bars are Armin’s favorite. He's always bummed out when you go together to Kuchel for your lunch break and there's no more left.

“I actually got the last batch,” you state proudly, the feeling only growing when his fingers excitedly tug at the ribbon tying the handles together and fishing out a pastry, biting into it with no hesitation.

“No kidding, they always sell out. Come on, I'll introduce you to everybody.” He heads toward the kitchen, waving at you to follow him.

You nervously tug at your turtleneck's sleeves, leaving them to cover your hands in an almost protective manner.

The fact that all eyes fall on you the second you step into everyone's line of vision doesn't help you feel at ease. Your gaze wanders to a distant place in an attempt to lessen the mental weight everyone's stares bear on you. But Armin throws a comforting arm over your shoulder and gives you a light squeeze as he announces your name to everybody.

When you look up — because you have to in order to properly link names and faces together — each new person in the room has a warmth to their features that gradually soothes your internal distress.

Sasha’s the first name to be called out. She's also the only one who goes up to steal you from Armin's arms and hugs you excitedly, squealing about how exciting it is to finally meet you. You're taken aback by the sudden embrace, but she’s holding you so tight that you can't look back at Armin for help. You're also oblivious to his warning gaze toward her behind your back.

Mikasa smiles and nods politely at you from the other side of the counter. It's quite the contrast from the first girl, but her gaze radiates kindness.

Jean's good looks are the first thing you notice from him, and he's got a cool energy to match. He raises two fingers in a salute when it's his turn, paired with a side smile as he casually leans against the bar.

Lastly, there's Connie, who proves himself to be as goofy as Armin told you beforehand, by dramatically posing with one arm against the counter and his opposite hand resting on his hip, muscles flexed, head turned low just so he could look up again and say “the one and only”.

You purse your lips in response to hide the smile that still manages to slip through.

“Nice to meet you all.”

You stand there awkwardly for what you think is a second too long, silently begging to come up with something else to say or for someone else to pick up the task so everyone can move on.

Thankfully, Armin swoops in, showing off his box of lemon bars on his way to a seat at the bar. He taps the seat next to him, gesturing for you to sit.

“Impressive,” Jean says, nodding in approval as he neatly folds a tea towel. He knows how much Armin loves Kuchel's lemon bars.

“It's not a big deal,” you reply, waving him off as you scan the room for something to give yourself to do. But there isn't much.

The counters have been cleared of any signs of ingredient prep during introductions, there's a timer set for the oven, and there's but a small pile of dishes left unfinished at the sink, which Mikasa is already finishing up. So you settle for sitting at the bar and staying out of everyone's way.

However, sitting still doesn't clear you from everyone's attention. It only makes sense that they're curious about you. And with the oven timer still with a little less than an hour to go, you can sense the start of a conversation where you're the main focus.

“So…” Jean begins.

Everyone gathers around the bar.

You brace yourself.

The following minutes are a bit of a blur. You try your best to keep up with everyone's questions. Where you're from, your birthday, your zodiac sign, what kind of music you like, if you've been to this and that place, or tried the food at x, y, and z. They're pretty basic questions, but as long as you're a target you're kept on your toes. After each of your answers, there's an exchanged glance or a nod of approval. You know everyone is only trying to get to know you, yet you can't help but feel as though every question is part of a test and your likability is at stake. That is until the conversation branches out to a story about the best taco truck in the next town over, which, in turn, leads to a story about Connie and Sasha getting food poisoning from a different taco truck they decided to try after their favorite one happened to close early that day. Only then can you breathe a sigh of relief. You even laugh a little at Sasha’s colorful retelling of the taco story.

“So, basically, don't go to Tito's,” Sasha finalizes, giving you a stern look. “You'll be shitting and barfing for a week.”

“I'll keep that in mind,” you laugh.

After that, the conversation flows a lot easier for you. There's less pressure with the decrease in questions thrown your way, which gives you more confidence to chime in with anecdotes of your own. It's hard to pinpoint when the conversation stopped feeling like a test, but you're grateful for it.

You realize there was never any battlefield to survive. Not here, not with this group of friends. And it’s nice to have several people willing to fill in any silence and steer the flow of the conversation instead of feeling the pressure of everyone's interest in your hands.

Just as you take a second to wander your gaze across everyone's laughing faces, finally feeling at ease with your place in the group, the doorbell rings, followed by the shrill sound of the timer.

“Fucking Jaeger,” Jean mutters.

“Just in time,” Armin grins, hops down from his chair, and makes his way to the door. Jean follows him at his heel, mumbling something about “Jaeger” being late.

You're distracted by Mikasa's voice calling your name.

“Could you get me the oven mitts, please?”

You nod and offer your assistance in taking out the chicken.

On the other side of the wall, Armin buzzes his last guest in and holds the door open to wait, shooting a confused look at Jean, who leans back against the wall to wait, too.

As soon as he comes in, Armin yells out, “Eren!” and pulls his best friend into a big hug, forcing him to crouch slightly to accommodate his embrace. They both laugh as Jean stands with his arms across his chest and a disgruntled look on his face.

“Hey, man. Sorry I'm late.”

“Mhm,” Jean hums, expecting Eren to cower under his gaze.

He doesn't. Jean is completely ignored as Eren sheepishly starts to explain himself, even though Armin didn't expect him until around this time anyway.

“I wanted to get you those lemon bars you like from that bakery. But when I got there, they were all out, so I went to their other shop across town, but they didn't have any either, and so then I—”

Armin laughs.

“Relax. You made it, that's what matters.”

“I feel bad, though. I really wanted to get some for you. I know they're your favorite.”

“If you really wanted to do something nice, you could've gotten here earlier to help with the cooking,” Jean scolds. Then he smirks. “Like I did.”

Eren rolls his eyes, finally acknowledging Jean.

He then pulls out a small gift box and hands it to Armin with a smile.

"I got you a candle, though."

Jean snorts and walks back to the kitchen, leaving an annoyed Eren shooting daggers at his back.

Armin graciously takes the gift, taking the lid off to confirm that the candle is, indeed, ocean-scented.

"Thanks, buddy. I was running short on these," he smiles sympathetically at his friend, patting his shoulder.

As they walk into the open space of the dining area, you walk out with a stack of plates in your hands to set the table. Armin perks up upon seeing you and excitedly rushes Eren, saying he wants to introduce him to somebody.

Armin’s voice catches your attention as you carefully set the plates down. “This is my best friend Eren.”

Your gaze shifts toward the pair of surprised green eyes already set on you while Armin’s voice goes on in the background, repeating your name to his friend.

“Hey, it’s you.” Eren smiles in recognition.

Armin’s eyebrows raise in surprise; yours furrow in confusion. Everyone starts filing to the dining area with food and silverware to finish setting the table. You step aside, murmuring quiet apologies as you get out of their way and step closer to Armin and his friend.

“You two know each other?” Armin asks, his gaze shifting between the two of you.

Before Eren can answer, he’s interrupted by Mikasa walking over.

“Hey, Eren. You’re late.” She looks up at him with disappointment. You get the feeling he was supposed to arrive around the same time she and the others did.

“Yeah!” Connie whines from the dining table, where he’s setting up wine glasses. “We had to work twice as hard.”

Eren ignores Connie’s flawed math.

“Sorry, everybody,” he replies, yet his tone is more that of a meek kid who’s forced to apologize.

He returns his focus to his original conversation. Armin is still looking at him expectantly.

“Oh, right! Uh… yeah, we bumped into each other at Kuchel’s earlier,” he finally explains. He looks at you shyly. “I held the door for you.”

Your furrowed brow softens, and your lips shape into a silent ah! when you recall the brief interaction. You didn’t even remember his face, but you nod along now.

“Come on, guys. Let’s eat!” Mikasa’s voice cuts through the silence, putting an end to your conversation.

Throughout dinner, everyone is a lot more chatty than you expected, considering there's plenty of food to get through. Everyone spills out as many light-hearted anecdotes about one another as the bites they take of baked potato wedges, garlic butter chicken, and grated carrot salad. Their stories are clear to have been brought up between them several times over the years, but they're new to you and you appreciate them choosing to share with you.

It turns out, the universe has worked its magic to make sure all six friends remain close since childhood. The fact is a little intimidating when you find out, but you do your best to push it aside.

At first, you're perfectly fine quietly listening as you eat, your voice only adding to the mix in the shape of a laugh, a gasp, or a question for the storyteller — just enough so they don't forget you're there.

The entire time, you feel a pair of eyes stealing glances at you from across the table even when you're not talking. Whenever you slowly look up to meet them, Eren quickly shifts his gaze elsewhere. When choosing places at the table, Armin insisted on having you across from one another. He didn't outright say it, but he did rearrange everyone else so that it worked out that way.

Given that he was the last to arrive and you've barely spoken directly to each other since he got here, you're not sure how to feel about Eren yet. He seems nice enough, but you don't feel as easy even looking at him as you do with the others. It's strange, but his late arrival made all the difference. Somehow he seems like a total stranger compared to the people you met just an hour before him. After your awkward introduction, it’s hard to say if you can make the situation better.

Night has settled in by the time everyone is leaning back in their seats with full bellies, lazily sipping wine every few minutes as the conversation eases into a quieter, slower pace. The serving dishes have been scraped clean. The box of lemon bars you brought over has been split for dessert, leaving just one lonely square that you know a slightly tipsy Armin has been eyeing.

Eren had turned to look at you with surprise when Armin thanked you for the second time.

“Ah, so you're the one who beat me to the last batch,” was what he said.

A soft apology tumbled from your lips.

So far, you hadn't proved yourself to be big on smiling but, when you did, it was nice to look at. Consequently, he tried to be the cause of at least one. So when you gave him nothing for his weak attempt at teasing, he shrunk in his seat and decided to keep quiet.

It's not long before Jean suggests moving to the living room to play a game and you take that as your cue to start clearing the table so there's no mess to come back to later. As you slip quietly into the kitchen, you can hear Jean and Connie arguing over whether to play cards or Monopoly. As Connie argues, he doesn't want to play Monopoly with a cheater, to which Jean says it's not his fault he's the better player.

You carefully place the dishes in the sink, adjusting the streaming water to a warm temperature. As you tug the pair of dishwashing gloves onto your hands, you catch a glimpse of a figure stepping beside you. When you look up, you're met with a boyish grin and shy jewel-toned eyes. He's setting down another pile of dirty dishes on the counter.

“Hi.”

You're not sure how to respond other than with a polite nod and a soft hi back. There's not much else to say, anyway. Half of you hopes he'll leave; you need some space to recharge your social battery. The other half is curious about the kind of conversation you might have to engage in if he stays.

You focus your gaze on the soaking dishes, waiting with bated breath to see what he does.

He stays.

He offers to dry what you wash.

There's a nervous tremor in his voice. Like a kid scared to ask for permission instead of an adult offering help. It's so small you barely notice it, but it's there.

You nod.

You wash, he dries.

It's quiet save for the sounds of dishes clinking together.

Then, his voice comes through.

“I didn't mean to put you on the spot earlier when I got here. I just have a knack for remembering faces.”

An uncomfortable warmth crawls up your neck and pools at your cheeks.

“I'm sorry. I didn't mean to embarrass you. I'm kind of the opposite. I just don't pay attention to faces,” you explain.

“Oh.” He forces a laugh. “Yeah, no, I get it.”

He tucks his bottom lip between his teeth, unsure of how to keep the conversation going. It's a bit discouraging for him to see how laser-focused you are on doing the dishes though, and he already feels foolish for making you apologize for not recognizing a total stranger. He tries not to stare at you too much but it's difficult when you're right there beside him. He only hopes you can't make him out looking at you from the corner of his eye.

You, on the other hand, can feel his eyes burning holes into your side profile. Ignoring it is harder than you hope but at least you have something to help. You're not sure if he expects you to reciprocate his efforts in breaking the ice, but you've yet to get a proper read on him. He was mostly quiet during dinner. Whenever a story with him at the center came up, he'd try to sway the conversation in a different direction. He seemed tense and you hate to think he might be uncomfortable with your presence. Maybe he's an anxious person who's easily embarrassed, you think. Or he might’ve thought you were stuck up and rude after you failed to recognize him and that's why the air now feels so thick. That happens a lot. The people around you are mostly a blur until — and if you ever — have a reason to break into friendly territory.

The next time you hand a dish for Eren to dry, your gaze lingers, carefully taking in his features. His green eyes are striking, but it's not as if the rest of his face falls short of that. He's very handsome. In a more boyish way than you observed Jean to be, but sharper than, say, Armin. His brown hair is neatly cut on the sides, contrasted by the choppy bangs that line his forehead — something that brings more youth to his face. He's got long, thick lashes and plump lips. Faint freckles are scattered along what one might consider to be a perfect straight nose. He's very handsome, indeed. But that's not all. There's a delicacy to his features that blends them all harmoniously, making Eren Jaeger quite… pretty.

Eren suddenly clears his throat; you take it as a sign to stop staring.

“So… um… how long have you been friends with Armin?”

You already know the answer, and you didn’t mind the silence at all, but you might as well try to get Armin’s best friend in your good graces. Especially after your dreadful mistake of not recognizing him. It bothers you to think he might have decided he doesn’t like you because of that.

“Since we were six… Um… He had a lot of trouble with bullies back in elementary school and I beat them up for him.”

That part you didn’t know, so you pause your focus on the plate you’re scrubbing to glance at Eren with admiration.

“I think he might’ve developed a weird hero complex by mistake though,” he laughs to himself. “He wanted me to get into fights every time he saw someone new being bullied.”

You laugh. The sound makes Eren’s chest swell with pride.

“Did you do it?”

He bashfully nods without ungluing his gaze from the serving spoon he’s drying.

You laugh some more.

“And of course, then he would take them in as a friend. Something about strength in numbers or whatever. To this day he has this thing that he needs to take in anyone who seems vulnerable.”

You laugh through your nose fully aware of the familiarity you feel from Eren’s story.

“That definitely sounds like him.”

You grin as you finish rinsing the plate, excited to have found some common ground to latch onto for conversation.

Eren admires your happy expression from the corner of his eye.

But when you turn to look at him, he averts his gaze, curling his lips inwards, and he takes the plate from your hands.

Your lips downturn a bit, thinking you might still have a long way to go before you can make up for your mistake.

Still, the thickness in the kitchen air dissipates as you each return to your tasks, the corners of your lips perking up in relieved smiles.

Armin walks in a moment later with the remnants of a laugh on his face from whatever conversation he just left behind. His faded grin resurfaces when he finds you and Eren together, and he catches a glimpse of the pink tint dusting his best friend's cheeks.

He watches for a few seconds, mildly amused that neither of you seems to notice his presence. Just as Eren finishes wiping the last fork dry, he decides to speak.

“You didn't need to do that.”

His statement is directed at both of you, yet his gaze is fixed on you, a warm smile gracing his features.

“You should join the others,” he tells you. “Oh, and uh…” He swipes a bottle from one of the cupboards. “Take this with you.”

“Let me just help put away everything,” you offer.

“It's okay, Eren and I got it,” he assures you.

You back out hesitantly, only decidedly walking out when Armin gives you a reassuring nod.

Both men watch you leave. As soon as you're out of sight, Armin's lips stretch into a knowing smile.

“She's pretty, huh?”

Eren's eyebrows upturn in clear worry when he rips his gaze from you to look at Armin. They soften a split second later in an attempt to appear nonchalant before his grinning friend.

“Um… I guess so… I don't know.”

He hurries to tend to the dishes waiting to be put away, hoping it's enough to mask the way he slowly deflates.

Plates and forks are stored in silence. An amused Armin keeps glancing at him.

After a while, a soft laugh escapes his lips.

“Relax, I'm not into her.”

Eren stiffens, unable to remove his hand by will from the cupboard door he just shut, and instead letting gravity take the wheel.

Before he can reflect on how exposed he feels, Armin's voice comes through again from where he's now leaning casually against the counter with his hands in his pockets.

“But I meant it when I said she's pretty.” He nods along for emphasis even though Eren has yet to look at him.

“She's really smart too. And kind! I mean, she can seem a little cold at first, but I heard some guys are into that. There's just this charm to her, you know? A few guys at work have tried asking her out but they're totally wrong for her.” He shakes his head at the last thought, then side-eyes Eren expectantly.

“If she ever goes out with someone, I hope it's one of the good guys.”

Throughout Armin's speech, Eren kept his lips pressed together in a tight line, wondering where Armin was headed with all he was saying. At first, he assumed his friend was interested in the new face of the group, which is why he feigned disinterest. But with every word that kept rolling off his tongue, his intentions were blatantly obvious. And yet he still decides to ask, “What are you trying to do, Armin?”

"Nothing... nothing at all," Armin answers with a shrug, playing it off as if any suggestion is all in Eren's head. He straightens up and starts walking out of the kitchen. There's a pause in his step just before he can slip out of sight. Looking at Eren over his shoulder, he leaves him with one last thought.

“All I'm saying is if you just keep staring at her, she’s gonna get weirded out.”

Eren is left alone, blushing profusely and running a shaky hand through his hair.

“Come on! That can’t be your most embarrassing thing!”

You shrug.

“That's all I've got.”

“What’s going on?” Eren asks as he takes in the scene.

It took him a while to reason with himself alone in the kitchen. By the time Eren joins everyone in the living room — nerves finally dormant — everyone is sitting on the floor around the coffee table playing a drinking game. He walks over in search of an open space and ends up nestled between Jean and Connie. Jean throws an arm over his shoulders.

“Jaeger, good. Buddy, tell her about the time you tried to do a one-arm pushup.” From his sleepy eyes and the affectionate term toward Eren, one can easily tell he's drunk.

Eren looks up quizzically at everybody.

“We're telling our most embarrassing stories,” you explain. “Whoever has the worst one wins the round and everyone else has to drink. I think it's just a ploy for everyone to get dirt on me though.”

You pout at your cup. It's clear you're a little tipsy, too.

Eren softly laughs.

“Whaa– we would never,” Sasha pouts.

“You're getting a deal! You get six embarrassing stories for the price of one!” Connie points out.

As you start to argue that it's not really fair because it's not like you have anyone to tell, Sasha’s phone buzzes in her pocket and a loud groan rumbles from her throat after skimming through whatever text she just got. Her chin falls onto the coffee table, arms stretched out before her so she can reply.

Mikasa looks at her with concern and tucks a loose strand of hair behind her ear, affectionately tapping her nose afterward.

“What's wrong?”

“Kaya's out with her friends and she's asking me to send her money for an Uber. I told her to be careful with her money but she just won't listen.”

Everyone either sympathetically smiles at her or idly watches her send over fifty dollars. You look at Armin, who quietly explains Kaya is Sasha’s younger sister who's a college freshman. You nod in understanding.

“That's a little sibling for you,” Connie mutters, softly patting Sasha’s head.

“That's why I love being an only child,” Jean states matter-of-factly. He stretches his arms over his head, rolling his shoulders back before reaching for the bottle of liquor at the center of the table. “Never had to worry about some annoying little runt.”

“I would've liked to have a younger sister,” Mikasa says. “It would've been fun to hang out and teach her things, you know?”

A touch of nostalgia dances along her lips as she traces the rim of her glass with her index finger.

“Oh, do you have any siblings?” Her eyes flit in your direction.

The question is innocent, but the topic of family causes you to shift uncomfortably in your seat.

“No… I don't.” You try to smile, but it's stiff.

Jean's loud clapping startles you. He tops off all but Connie's and Sasha’s glasses.

“Oh yeah, single child gang!” He raises his glass in cheers and downs the contents. You follow his lead, hoping that'll mark the end of that topic. But it doesn't. “You must've been spoiled growing up, am I right?”

You lower your gaze, opting to fiddle with your fingers instead of answering.

Mikasa seems to sense the fragility of the topic from your side because her eyebrows upturn in concern when she looks at you.

“Hey, not everyone has a mother like yours. Don't be rude, Jean-boy.” She raises a teasing eyebrow as she whips her head in Jean's direction.

“Didn't you yell at her when she brought cupcakes to our class for your birthday?” Eren scrunched his eyebrows together in feigned thought.

“I was twelve! You can't keep holding that over my head. I'm twenty-five now,” Jean whines.

“And I've yet to see you mature,” Eren mutters.

A hushed giggle escapes your lips. You cover it up by sipping your drink. A satisfied smirk tugs at Eren's lips when he catches a glimpse of your smile.

Contrary to his sober self, drunk Jean craves Eren's approval and affection instead of their usual frenemy-like banter. He looks at him with sad eyes.

“Hey, I've made up for it. Mama Kirstein doesn't need to lift a finger thanks to her amazing engineer son.”

Sasha’s face contorts in confusion.

“Last time I went to Trost with you, she was still working as a seamstress.”

Jean waves her off.

“She just likes to keep busy.”

“What do your parents do?” Sasha turns to you.

You're trapped.

From the corner of your eye, you can see Armin leaning forward with just as much interest as the others. In the past, Armin's asked about your family only once. After vaguely implying you weren't close to them, he dropped the topic. But now, in his intoxicated state, he doesn't do much to keep his level of curiosity under wraps. And knowing you're slightly buzzed, too, he hopes you’ve let go of any inhibitions that have kept you from revealing more of your background.

Armin likes you. He's always admired your efficiency at work, but you seemed lonely and closed off — which is why he decided to approach you in the first place. To everyone in the office, you were a cold stuck-up woman — yet they still refused to stop obsessing over you. To him, you were just misunderstood and lowkey. Sure, you refused to do much to take up space in a room, but through small conversations here and there, he was allowed to slowly unveil your true self.

But there was always another hidden wall. Armin wouldn't admit it out of fear of seeming like a creep, but that line you expertly draw — allowing someone in without fully giving yourself away — is part of what makes you alluring. That and your keen eye for reading people.

You wet your lips with a swipe of your tongue, looking for a way out inside the clear liquid sitting at the bottom of your glass.

Eren zeroes in on your face, trying to decipher the distant look in your eyes. The weight on his chest lightens when you finally speak.

“I'm not sure what they're doing now. Last time I checked, my mom was a drug addict, and my dad left when I was twelve.”

The weight in Eren's chest comes back heavier than ever.

Silence takes over the living room. Even the darkness outside the window seems eerily quiet as your abrupt statement courses through the gears in everyone's heads.

There's no certainty as to why you blurted out what you did. Maybe it was a sense of security which you now think was a trick of your mind. Perhaps the alcohol is to blame. After all, you didn't feel any need to be a burden on others on an otherwise fun night before. But the words just seemed to push their way out of your mouth.

A severe scolding rings in your ears.

You always ruin everything!

You don't expect anyone to come up with an answer. In fact, you'll be grateful if someone simply discards your words and steers the conversation in a different direction. But if nobody does, then you'll quietly make your way home. There’s no use in annoying others by begging them to let you stay, promising you won't cause any more trouble.

“How long has it been since you saw your mom?” Mikasa's voice cuts through the thickness of the air.

The look in her eyes is sympathetic. Not the fake kind that makes you feel pitied for having endured a rough life. It's the kind that simply matches such an ordinary question.

“About a year,” you murmur.

Jean hums in thought.

“A year, huh? That's almost how long you've been in the city, right?” He scratches his chin as he retrieves the information you shared earlier from his tipsy brain.

You nod. “Yup… one year.”

Everyone nods along to your answer. Everyone but one.

You nervously blink toward the left, searching Armin's face. He's slumped in his spot, his eyes lost at a blank point. They flash in your direction, and he quickly composes himself, but not quick enough for his expression to go unnoticed by you.

Despite some things here and there, he thought you were close. He never pressured you to share anything you didn't want to. Just getting along and respecting each other would have sufficed — he’s a giver more than he is a taker. But he feels like he failed to support you. He's extremely dumbfounded, but he doesn't make it a point that you never told him the specifics on something so big. He refuses to make you think he resents you for it.

But the glimpse you caught of his fallen shoulders and clouded eyes still makes you lower your head in guilt. Just ten minutes ago, you felt accomplished for being on your way to gaining new friends and grateful that Armin paved the way for you. You're embarrassed for having thought that you could juggle more relationships when you've barely been open to the one you already have. It's almost laughable that you thought to leave your comfort zone and give this evening a try.

Before you can issue an apology, Jean's loud clapping startles you for the second time tonight.

"Well.” He tilts his head as he splits the last of the liquor into everyone's glass for one last drink. “In any case... if you hadn't moved here, you wouldn't be drinking with the best people you'll ever meet."

“Hear, hear!” Armin yells beside you, following Jean's lead and raising his glass toward the center.

Your eyes meet his. He's smiling, nodding almost imperceptibly for you to join your glass with everyone else's. The corners of your lips quirk into a relieved smile. You raise your glass.

The rest of the group cheers as joyful clinks spread through the room.

Whatever darkness was squeezing at your chest dissipates. Your eyes crinkle in amusement as you allow your giddiness to take over.

A pair of mesmerized green eyes linger on your face from the opposite side of the coffee table. His lips part slightly to draw in a long breath, followed by a sip of alcohol.

A beeping phone sifts through the commotion.

Mikasa looks down at her phone. First, with curiosity, then with worry.

Levi Don't go out at night for a while. Killer on the loose. SN3

She calls out Armin's name.

“Turn on the news on channel 3.”

The urgency tainting Mikasa's usual steady voice has Armin scrambling to find the remote, though with a bit of confusion. Everyone else exchanges quizzical glances while they wait for him to turn the television on.

A male newscaster is halfway through reciting a report on the police department's recent findings.

“... The twenty-six-year-old woman's body was dismembered and disposed of in a garbage dumpster behind a local restaurant. Police have yet to report any evidence that can lead them to any suspects. An autopsy is ongoing to pinpoint the cause of death but with the initial report, signs point to a possible case of torture…”

The mood shifts yet again. Everyone stares at the screen, but the words no longer reach anyone's ears. Nobody recognized the girl identified on the screen but it's still unnerving when something so tragic and cruel happens in the city one lives in. Being close in age to the victim just makes it even rougher.

Eren is the first to look back — specifically at the girls.

You all seem lost in thought. His gaze flits in your direction. You're just as distant, nursing your glass in your hands as you chew on your bottom lip. He turns to Mikasa.

“Was that Levi earlier?”

Eren's voice pulls Mikasa from her thoughts.

She nods.

“Who's Levi?” you ask.

“My uncle,” she explains. “He texted me not to go out at night for a while. They didn't say if this was a serial killer but I don't think he wants to take any chances as long as the culprit is out there.” In a lower voice she adds, “he's in the police.”

You slowly nod, then suddenly remember where you are.

“I need to get home fast, then.”

Your eyes land on the digital clock beside the TV. It's well past the time to catch the last bus. You swipe your phone from your purse to look up cab numbers, unaware of the nervous glances exchanged all around you.

“I don't think you should leave now.” Eren stops you from dialing the first cab company from your search results, his eyes wide with concern. He doesn't realize his hand is holding onto your wrist until you look down at it.

He pulls away, embarrassed, but remains firm in his statement.

“Eren's right,” Connie agrees. He has a protective hand on Sasha’s shoulder. “Mind if we crash here tonight?” He directs his gaze at Armin.

“No need to ask. I'll bring out some blankets.”

It's two in the morning. A cluster of tired bodies sleeps peacefully on the living room floor. Lazy limbs stretch out and across someone else's. Light snores and rare mumblings are the only thing that disturbs the quiet.

The murder on the news had left everyone unsettled. Much so, that everyone felt inclined to sleep together in the same room. It didn’t do much for their comfort given the space, but it gave everyone a sense of safety.

Eren’s eyelids barely flutter open. They're so heavy, he wishes he could just ignore the uncomfortable fullness of his bladder. But he can't. Begrudgingly, he clumsily rises to his feet and makes his way to the bathroom, rubbing his temples with one hand and feeling around for any walls and furniture with his other while his eyes adjust to the darkness.

When he gets back, he catches sight of a lone figure sitting out on the small balcony outside of the kitchen.

It takes him a minute to rid himself of the extra warmth in his face. He takes a deep breath and quietly slides the door open to step out.

“Hey.”

You look up at him from your chair. Your knees are pressed against your chest, your arms wrapped around them for support as your cheek rests on top.

“Hi.”

“Is it okay if I sit?”

You nod and proceed to face forward, resting your chin where your cheek used to be.

The night is pleasantly warm. You're wearing the sweats and shirt Armin lent you for the night.

Eren's gaze roams every shape of your side profile. It's the second time you've been alone together and he's racking his brain on what to talk about to balance out the way he's been staring at you all night. He doesn't want to give Armin another reason to tease him. His hands are sweaty and his cheeks start to warm at the reminder.

“Did I wake you?”

Your voice is gentle and sweet, but it startles him nonetheless.

“No,” he manages to say. He pauses. “How long have you been out here?”

You shake your head as you look up at the star-littered sky.

“Not long.”

He hums, mulling your answer over.

If you’re awake at this hour, not bothering to try going back to sleep, something must be weighing heavily on your mind, he reasons. That’s further proven by the way you’re shrinking into yourself, trying to take up as little space as you can. Not that he’s especially knowledgeable about you, but there’s a difference in how your quietness manifests itself now than during dinner. It’s comparable to the way you were after watching the news.

“Are you okay?”

He watches you hesitate to give him an answer. Your lips tremble, parting and pressing together a couple of times. It’s as if you’re willing to talk but the words are lodged in your throat.

“You can tell me.”

Still no answer.

“Is it because of the girl on the news?”

Finally, you look at him. Your brows twist with grief.

“I just can’t stop thinking about her. Her family must be devastated.”

All evening, Eren’s had a hard time holding your gaze. Mainly because he didn’t want to give himself away, but it’s also hard to admire someone when they’re looking directly at you. Once his racing heart finds a steadier rhythm, he finds it’s actually easy to lose himself in your eyes.

There’s a subtle glassiness to them — one he’d be more concerned about if he hadn’t noticed it as a natural part of you. Your eyes heavily conveyed every emotion, every little thought. And Eren suddenly felt compelled to learn how to read them.

The way you’ve presented yourself so far — gentle and cautious — gives you an aura of delicate maturity in the eyes of others. But for a brief moment, you seem small. Troubled, even.

“I know it’s selfish for me to be thinking about this, but sometimes I wonder if I’ll have anyone crying for me when I die. I don’t have many people,” you whisper.

It feels strange to Eren to suddenly feel a surge of courage when he’s been nothing but an awkward wreck around you since you met.

“You have us now.”

You don’t show yourself to be entirely convinced. In fact, there’s a hint of amusement shimmering in your eyes. But you appreciate his words no matter how empty they might turn out to be.

Eren hesitates to ask you the question that’s been gnawing at his brain for hours now. You’ve been sharing such a pleasant moment, that he hates to think he might ruin it all and end up losing his cool in the process.

“That stuff about your parents… is it true?”

It’s a leap of faith.

“You think I made it up?”

The raised eyebrow and the humorless smile that graces your lips take him by surprise, even more so than the firm tone of your voice.

“No, of course not!” He chokes on his words, frantic he might have offended you.

But you laugh, and it soothes him instantly.

“Relax, I was just teasing you.” You look away, warmth pooling at your cheeks upon your failed attempt to be funny. “It’s true, by the way. I’m a child of neglect.”

A heavy sigh pushes past your lips.

He doesn't pick up on your embarrassment — he’s much too focused on his own.

Despite the bitterness lacing your gentle voice, he can’t help himself from wanting to know more. It makes him anxious. Finding you attractive is besides the point. His mind is scrambling at any opportunity to get closer to you. He wants to keep talking. He wants to hear more about what worries you. He wants to stretch out the night and keep the conversation going — even if he’s caught off guard by your unpredictable teasing a few more times. He wants to know about your past. He wants to know you. But you kill off his chances when you suddenly change the course of the conversation.

“Do I make you uncomfortable?” You look up at him with concern contorting your features. It takes everything in him not to let his gaze drift to your bottom lip that’s caught between your teeth to keep your nerves at bay.

“Huh?”

You clear your throat before explaining and fiddle with your hands as you do. You focus on the moon instead of him.

It’s quite cute for Eren to see you fidget for once.

“It's just that during dinner you barely talked and whenever I looked at you, you would look away,” you explain bashfully. “And then when we were doing the dishes together, you just felt a little awkward. I mean, I don’t expect you to be all chummy with me, but it was kind of like you were forcing yourself to talk to me.”

Eren wants to smack himself. He had no idea of the message he was sending all this time. All those averted gazes and suppressed smiles must have looked totally different from your end.

“I thought maybe you were uncomfortable with me around.”

Your voice is even softer than before. It might have to do with the people sleeping inside or maybe you're just feeling quieter than usual. Eren has no idea. But it's a nice sound, and his quickening heartbeat isn't lost on him.

The abrupt changes in his system are giving him whiplash. And it’s all because of you.

“I’m not,” he whispers. “I’m not uncomfortable.”

A deep shade of red gradually tints his cheeks, openly defying the pale blue light from the moon. His gaze shies away from you and settles on his lap, where he nervously rubs his sweaty palms just to give himself something to do. When his eyes slowly drift back to your face, he swallows hard.

It finally hits you.

Oh, you think.

Next chapter

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#aot fanfiction #snk fanfiction #snk x reader #eren jaeger fanfiction #eren jaeger x y/n #eren jaeger x reader #aot imagines #eren yeager fanfiction #eren yeager x reader #eren x reader #tw: alcohol

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peachesofteal · 1 year

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Sugar daddy AU with Simon Riley where he owns a very big, very controversial weapons manufacturing business. He's a bit morally grey, a bit of a hot head, and a bit more than disgustingly wealthy. Keeps his friends close and his enemies closer. Wears the mask because he's infamous and on a dozen hit lists across the planet.

Maybe he meets you at a dinner where you're the catering server, working your second job of that day, feet dragging across the ballroom while you offer up little hors d'oeuvres on silver platters to the snooty ass guests. He watches you, watching them, your eyes cataloging every part and piece, anticipating their every move as you slide left and right to intercept them. He watches men and women slip you cash as you do them favors, bringing extra liquor from the bar, tracking down car keys from the valet, procuring a back up pair of tights. Interesting, he thinks. Intelligent, resourceful... beautiful.

Or he meets you when he's getting his morning coffee, where you're working your usual five to three, so dead on your feet that you make his order wrong, accidentally giving him half and half instead of oat milk. And, shit. What if he's got an allergy? So you YELL across the cafe at him as soon as you realize your mistake and he startles, before assuring you it's alright. He can't help but notice how the light streams in from the front windows and dances just right across your skin, or your hair, or the way it dances in your irises, your eyes wide with worry.

Maybe he meets you on the street, where you're trying to make the last train to get home after an awful day, but he steps in front of you, and you fall face first. Maybe a bunch of things spill out of your bag, and you burst into tears because you're so frustrated, and he tries to apologize but you wave him off. "Let me at least get you a cab." He tries but you tell him not to bother, that you'll just walk to the next station to get the other connector (that will put you on a very late arrival to home). You're stubborn, and independent, and very clearly do not want some weird man in a skull mask's charity. (Why is he wearing that thing anyway?)

Maybe, he starts making running into you a more regular thing. Maybe he starts to become obsessed with you. Maybe he puts a tail on you so he can learn your habits, your routines. So he can find out where you live, where you work out, what you do in your downtime. Maybe he learns you don't have any downtime, you're scraping along, scrapping out a life by any means necessary. Maybe he learns your apartment building isn't secure, doesn't even have a lock on the main entrance or a buzzer system. Maybe he worries. Maybe he becomes consumed with thoughts of you until he's "running into you accidentally" and asking you to lunch.

Or, maybe he doesn't do that. Maybe he just thinks about you a lot, thinks about you so much that he starts to drop by the coffee shop more frequently, or walks on that same block every day now, or hires that catering company for some frivolous company party. Maybe he tries really hard not to spook you, but fails and then delivers a spectacular apology where he convinces you to come to dinner, just one dinner, so he can make it up to you.

Maybe he plucks you out of working paycheck to paycheck just to pay the rent on your shitty, paper thin ground level apartment in the worse than bad part of the city you live in. And he doesn't want sex, doesn't want to press your body to his bed, doesn't want you to kiss him just because he pays your bills. Maybe he wants you to trust him. He wants you to feel safe with him, because he knows you've never had a second of security in your life. Maybe you fall for him. Maybe it's a slow burn. Maybe you have trust issues. Maybe he falls in love with you. Maybe he does something fucked up. Maybe you're hiding something. Maybe there's angst. (be real it's me there would be angst) Maybe there's a happy ending.

#simon ghost riley x reader #simon riley x reader #peaches writes #I need help #I'm tabling this I think #simon ghost riley #simon riley #sugar daddy au #cod mw22 fanfiction #simon riley x you

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megamindsecretlair · 6 months

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Just One Taste

Pairing: Tyrone x Black!Fem!OC!/ Plus Size reader

Warnings: 18+, Minors DNI, You are in charge of your own reading experience. Intentional use of AAVE. FILTH! PWP, cursing, PIV, oral (fem and male receiving), dirty talk, praise kink, Dom fem, all consensual. Heavy use of n-word. Disrespectful Tyrone. Drug use. Tyrone POV. Mild Sub Tyrone.

Summary: Tyrone gets lost in a deserted town with his friends. The only place open is the library. They head inside and receive quite the surprise.

Word Count: 5,642k

A/N: Trying something new! Happy spooky Halloweek. I hope this fit the bill. It was majorly fun to shake it up a bit, do something a little new I hope! Listen, I need to go lay down myself!! Because sweet lawdt! Please, please consider commenting and reblogging to help support writers! And please put ages in bios! I blocked over a hundred people today for no ages!

Taglist: @planetblaque @dayjlovesromance @sevikasblackgf @melaninpov @amyhennessyhouse @henneseyhoe @honeyoriginalz @justheretostan @black-fairy3 @superhoeva @jarfulloftears @hereformiles @montysstuffs @westside-rot @blackerthings @blowmymbackout @euphoric05 @miyuhpapayuh @nicolexnight @8ttached @judymfmoody @wakandas-vibranium @soft-persephone @justabovewater20 @notapradagurl7 @mcotton0928 @soapjay @heyauntieeee @theyscreamsannii @mybonafidefeelings @eggnox @honeytoffee @thadelightfulone @tranquilfandomer

“Man, pull the fuck over,” Tyrone snapped. The car pulled over to the closest sidewalk and his friend put it in park.

Tyrone climbed out of the car. The first thing he noticed was the chill. Burrowing cold whipped against his skin and he fought off a shiver. He sparked up, inhaling the weed and exhaling the stressful drive.

“Told ya’ll niggas which way to go and now we lost,” he muttered, mostly to himself. He was pissed. They were supposed to mob up in Vegas for the weekend, get out of the city and into something a little strange for the upcoming Halloween weekend.

But you can’t trust non-reading ass niggas. Tyrone knew it and, yet, he let them drive because he wasn’t feeling it today. He searched the area around him, noting the darkened buildings and dim streetlights. There was an eerie lack of cars around.

“Where the fuck did you take us to?” Tyrone leaned down into the open passenger side. His friend, Paul, was on his phone finagling with the GPS.

“Ion know, nigga! I was on the 15!”

Their other friend, Mike, who sat in the back seat slapped the back of Paul’s head. “You got us lost mu’fucka!”

The two men got into a playful slapping match, calling each other names and cursing at each other. Tyrone stood up straight and took a hit. He rolled his shoulders and looked up into the darkened sky. He thought there were supposed to be stars and shit out here in the desert, without pollution from the light.

He scanned the area once more. It looked like some Scooby-Doo shit. There appeared to be a main street with a hardware store, general store, local restaurant, and a souvenir shop. There were buildings further beyond that, but the cruel California/Nevada night gave no indication of life.

The air felt empty yet tangible. Like there was an invisible screen just in front of his face. “Corny ass, niggas,” Tyrone muttered and took off down the street. Maybe if he found someone’s house, he could knock and get some help. He only hoped this wasn’t one of them racist in-between towns that’d shoot him on sight.

It’d be just his mu’fuckin’ luck to get shot in the boonies on his way to Vegas. Instead of getting shot back in LA. Wouldn’t that be hilarious?

Car doors slammed behind Tyrone and his friends called after him. “Aye, where you goin’?”

“To mind my business, nigga,” Tyrone bit out. He wanted some sleep. He was so fuckin’ tired and the weed wasn’t hitting like usual.

The streetlights overhead were spaced out so far apart that he was entrenched in shadow every time he made it past a beam of light. He sighed as he walked, wondering what the hell they were supposed to do with no service in a town like this. If they slept in the car, would they wake up to some old white mu’fucka with a shot gun?

Hell, maybe he watched too much TV.

“Aye, what’s that?” Mike pointed a meaty finger towards the distance. At the end of the block, the streets rounded off. There was a tall, brick building on the corner with a lonely light over the doorstep. They were too far away to read the sign overhead.

“Hopefully someone who can help ya’ll dumbasses,” Tyrone said. He passed the blunt to Paul and took off down the street, wishing he had a jacket.

This was the type of cold that sunk down into the bones as soon as you acknowledged it. And it was hard to shake.

Tyrone made a beeline for that lonely beacon of hope, praying for someone to be inside and willing to help. Mike lumbered after him while Paul kept time with Tyrone’s quick strides. No one spoke.

As they got closer, Tyrone noticed the sign. It was a library.

“What’s a library doing open so late?” Paul asked.

“Let’s just hope it’s warm. And they got food or somethin’. I’m hungry,” Mike complained.

“Yo fatass always hungry. I’m surprised you weren’t munchin’ on the car seat,” Paul said and snickered. He put out the blunt on the side of the building.

Tyrone cracked a smile. Mike pushed Paul who went jumping a few feet sideways. “Can ya’ll shut the fuck up? Damn.” Tyrone huffed and pushed into the library.

Inside, there was ambient lighting and no one at the front desk. A little bell rung from the open door and the trio whipped their heads to it, huffing quick and nervous laughs.

“Scared, little nigga?” Mike asked.

“Nah, all I gotta do is hide behind yo fatass ‘till I can dip,” Paul said and laughed. He danced out of the way of Mike’s big paws. Tyrone stood in the entryway and raised his eyes to the ceiling.

If he made it out of this bumfuck town, he was getting new friends. The library was decent and less cold than outside. There were tables spread out in front of the info desk, books scattered on them. There were shelves and rows of books stretching the length of the space and those little sorting carts he thought were only in movies.

There was the same sense of emptiness here that was just like outside. Perhaps the town was just that small that it didn’t have a presence or personality like in a bigger town or city. Whatever it was, it set Tyrone on edge as he looked around. He moved closer to the info desk, scanning it for anything he could use.

Maybe it was just that kind of town. Maybe all of the doors were left open. Car doors too. Because who the fuck would steal from this empty ass town?

Mike and Paul were still fussing at each other, slinging insults back and forth. Tyrone turned around, already annoyed and approaching irritated. “Can ya’ll shut the fuck up? And help?”

Mike and Paul gave each other one last shove. Tyrone scoffed and took a step forward.

“Can I help you gentlemen?”

Mike and Paul screamed. Tyrone flinched and turned to the source of the sound. To his right, a woman stood there dressed like someone’s fantasy of a librarian. She wore a button up white shirt, skin-tight black skirt, complete with a loose mini tie. The collar of the shirt was open, a few buttons loose down to show her generous cleavage.

And she was thick as hell, straining the material of her outfit to near sinful levels. If she breathed too hard, the rest of the buttons would go flying everywhere and reveal the rest of the bra that poked out beneath the shirt. Her button down was tucked into the skirt with a skinny belt and non-flashy buckle.

Her hair was tucked up into a high bun and she wore glasses loose on her nose. She was so fuckin’ cute and sexy at the same time. The stirrings of desire tightened Tyrone’s gut and his dick twitched. He flexed his fists at his side, trying to calm his racing heart.

“Damn lady! You fuckin’ scared us!” Paul yelled. He shoved Mike off of him, the two getting close after being so scared. Tyrone kept his eyes on the woman. She pursed her lips at the boys and shook her head.

“Have some manners when you come in here,” she snapped.

“Yes, ma’am,” Paul said instantly. Mike and Tyrone stared at him. Paul has never said anything like that in all his life. Whatever spell Tyrone had been under looking at the woman, it seemed to have caught Mike and Paul as well. No one could resist glancing away from her for long.

The woman took a deep breath and finally turned beautiful eyes towards him. “Can I help you?” She asked.

“We’re turned around. We were heading up to Vegas,” Tyrone explained. He moved closer, wanting to be in her orbit. Nervousness crept up his spine. He scowled. The fuck did he have to feel nervous for?

She looked at the girly watch on her wrist and then raised an eyebrow at him. “A little late isn’t it?” She asked.

“Better than stuck in traffic tryin’ to get there for the weekend,” he said.

She conceded the point with a twist of her juicy lips. Red lipstick drew his eyes to her mouth. There was a sudden vision in his head of kissing her and smearing it. He imagined red lip prints on his skin. He imagined licking it off of her.

The images were so vivid, he got hornier. Gettin’ bricked up by the minute. He cleared his throat and shook his head.

“Um, we just want to know where we are so we can get movin’,” Tyrone said.

“And get to food,” Mike said right next to Tyrone’s ear. He flinched and turned to see that Mike and Paul had moved without him noticing. They stood in a near perfect line, transfixed on the librarian.

That comment seemed to soften her. She shook her head at the boys. “Have a seat, I’ll see if I can find something. May as well rest up before heading back on the road,” she said. “Do you want to help me look?”

A secret smile played about her carmine lips. He took a step forward but her eyes weren’t on him, it was on Mike. Mike grinned from ear to ear and nodded his head. Swift disappointment hit Tyrone in the gut.

That was his boy, but what the fuck did she see in him and not Tyrone? He scowled as Mike disappeared down the stacks with the librarian, murmuring softly to each other. As soon as the woman was gone, Tyrone could think more clearly.

Paul shook his head and sucked his teeth. “The fuck she want with that greedy mu’fucka?” Paul flopped down into the nearest seat. Tyrone sighed and joined him, looking around at the space.

Tyrone and Paul shot the shit as they waited for Mike and the librarian to return. While he wasn’t starving, he could eat. His buzz was faint but still there and it made his head go pleasantly funny.

“I bet his ass eatin’ all the snacks and tryin’ to get her number,” Paul said.

Tyrone huffed a laugh and shook his head. “Dawg, I’m just ready to go,” he said. He ran a hand down his face. How long had he been there? Thirty minutes? Forty-five? How long did it take to round up some crackers?

“Nigga, shut up. You know fuck well you’d hit that given the chance,” Paul said. He fidgeted in his seat. He leaned forward, then back. Put his elbows behind him on the desk. Stretched out his legs.

“Stop movin’ damn,” Tyrone said. He sighed and shook his head. He was definitely getting new friends after this.

Shuffling near the back made Paul sit up straight, like a dog excited to see its owner. Tyrone gave him a weird look before catching the confused look on his face. Tyrone turned towards the sound. Mike had a dopey grin on his face, walking zombie-like towards them.

The librarian trailed behind him, looking more or less happier than when she found three strange men in the library late at night. “No snacks for us?” Paul asked. “Did yo fatass eat it all?”

Mike continued walking and sat down in the next available seat on their side of the table. Tyrone was the closest and shook Mike. He only kept the goofy smile on his face, hands placed flat on the table, and stared straight ahead.

“Aye, what you do to him?” Tyrone asked.

“Excuse me?” The Librarian asked.

“Why he look like that?” Tyrone asked. He shoved Mike once more, but there was no one home behind Mike’s eyes.

“Aye what the fuck, lady!” Paul yelled. He jumped up from the chair he sat in and rounded Tyrone to get to Mike. He shook Mike, pulling at his oversized T-shirt. Mike blinked a few times and looked down at his stretched shirt in Paul’s hands.

“What the fuck man!” Mike yelled and shoved Paul.

“We thought she did something to you!”

Mike adjusted his shirt with a scowl and shook his head. “What could she do? We had a muffin. Gonna make fun of me for that too, little nigga?”

Paul looked between Mike and Tyrone. Tyrone trained his eyes on the Librarian who watched the whole thing like something was funny. Her lips were turned up like she and Mike knew a dirty secret.

Tyrone stood up and approached her. His head grew fuzzier as he approached, but he pushed on. Pushed past that feeling. He got into her face and stared down at her. He wasn’t a tall man but she also wasn’t a tall woman. And her small heels didn’t give her an advantage.

“We not here for games. Where the hell are we?” He demanded.

The Librarian sighed and it was like he smelled the greatest scent in the world. It was something dark, alluring, like pomegranates. He leaned in, wanting to smell more of it.

“You’re not far from the 15, I promise. You probably didn’t catch the turn off driving in this type of darkness.”

“The hell you do to him?” Tyrone asked and cocked his head to the side.

“What are you talking about?”

“What took you so long to come back out? Don’t take that fuckin’ long for a muffin,” he said.

The Librarian rolled her eyes. “I’m going to assume it’s the weed that’s making you paranoid. I asked for Michael’s help with some boxes that needed lifting. Some men like to help,” she said and pointedly looked at Tyrone.

He caught the challenge, a burning in his chest to defend himself. “I ain’t know you needed help,” he said.

“There’s still a few things I need to move. Can you help me before you go on our way, screaming that I’m the devil?” She lifted a perfectly arched eyebrow and Tyrone looked at Mike.

Maybe she was right. But Tyrone didn’t trust it. He looked to Paul who shook his head. Mike just stared at him blankly. The smell of pomegranate hit him again and his mouth watered. He looked back at the Librarian.

“I help you, you help me, that sort of thing?” He asked.

The Librarian shrugged. “I’m a librarian. I’ll help you anyway,” she said. “Won’t take as long as I did with Michael. I promise,” she said.

The way she kept saying his name made Tyrone scowl. He wanted to hear his name on her lips. He wanted her to scream it while he was balls deep inside of her. He blinked and shook his head. Where did that come from?

He found himself nodding anyway, following behind the Librarian. He watched her ass in that skirt that looked painted on. If he didn’t know any better, he’d swear she didn’t have any panties on. He didn’t see any panty lines as she walked.

She moved fast, disappearing down a few stacks. Towards the back, there was a door marked for employees only. She went inside and held the door open for him. It led to a dingy hallway with a few doors on either side. To their immediate left, there was a small kitchenette with a basket of muffins on the table.

The Librarian walked past, heading down the hallway. “I’m Tyrone, by the way,” he said.

“It’s nice to meet you,” she said.

He huffed, thinking he was going to hear his name from her voice. He followed her to an office. It was cramped, one lonely and neat desk surrounded by stacks of books and notebooks, papers, and a sorting cart.

She pointed to a few boxes on top of a high bookshelf. “Can you please get these down for me? The last librarian was a giant and they’re too heavy for me,” she said.

He nodded and used a step ladder to climb up and get the boxes. She was right, they were heavy. Probably filled with books and shit. He got to work, climbing up and down the ladder and moving boxes. He worked up a nice sweat in the office. A single drip of sweat slid down his neck and down his chest.

They made small talk while he worked. He learned that she was new to town and he asked her what made her move to some place like this.

“It’s quiet and the people are nice. That’s what I was looking for,” she said.

“Bad ex?” He asked. He huffed as he strained under the heaviest box yet.

“No, just wanted a change. If that’s too heavy, don’t hurt yourself trying to move it. I can ask the shop owner to help. He’s a giant too,” she said.

Tyrone scoffed and worked even harder to scoot the box from the top of the shelf. Fuck that. If anyone was going to help her, it was going to be him. He made a sound as he got the box down and descended the ladder. Thank fuck it was the last box.

He set it down on top of the others with a smug smirk and looked at her. She returned his smirk and she leaned on one side, calling attention back to her figure.

Tyrone licked his lips and thought, fuck it. “If you need more help, we got time,” he said.

“Don’t think I’m the devil anymore?” She teased.

He stepped closer, closer than he ought to. That pomegranate smell hit him again and he leaned in. “Never thought you were the devil. Just sayin’. I can help with anything,” he said. He cast his eyes all over her body, his fingers tingling with the urge to touch her. To see if he could peel her skirt off and lick what’s left behind.

“Anything huh?” She asked. She laughed and trailed her long red nails across his chest. A shudder ran through him, desire spiking higher. His dick twitched, getting thicker. She moved from around him and fiddled with things on her desk.

Tyrone approached her, trying not to spook her. He pressed into her back, placing his hands on either side of her on top of her desk. He inhaled the heavenly scent of her, his nose pressed to the back of her neck. He didn’t know why he was being so bold. But he knew that if he didn’t at least try, if he didn’t shoot his shot, he’d forever regret it.

There was no way he was coming back to this town. But he couldn’t leave without a taste of her. Just one taste.

“Must get lonely in this town,” he whispered.

“What makes you say that?”

“‘Cause you in this library instead of at home, letting some idiot fuck you to sleep,” Tyrone said.

The Librarian chuckled. “You always talk so nasty to strangers?” She asked.

Tyrone placed a kiss against her neck since she wasn’t stopping him. “Mhm, no ma’am. Just hate the thought of you here all alone,” he said.

“Why, you want to fix it?” She asked. She turned around, turning mischievous eyes to him. She laughed and for a split second…nah, that can’t be right. Her eyes didn’t flash red. Impossible.

He licked his lips and nodded, drawn once more to her lips. “Do you really want to fix it?” Her voice turned sultry and she drew her pink tongue across her lips. He followed the movement, undone by it.

“Yes, ma’am,” he said.

“Sit down, Tyrone,” she commanded.

Tyrone’s legs bent without any thought to if there was a chair behind him or not. Luckily there was and he sank into the plush chair with a quiet sigh.

She sank down to her knees and he was mesmerized by the way her skirt moved with her. How it didn’t rip or tear on the way down. He widened his legs and she smirked at him, running her hands up and down his solid thighs.

His dick tented his sweats, obviously showing his desire for her. He was near mad with it. Lustful. He ached to bury his dick somewhere warm and wet. She had the same idea as she eyed it.

She moved her hands to the waistband of his sweats and started to shimmy them down far enough to free his dick. She palmed him, stroking him, and he bit his lip to keep from moaning. He was not going to bust off of a hand job. The fuck he looked like?

She wasted no time leaning onto her knees and taking him deep. “Oh fuck,” he said and his hips jerked off of the chair.

She took him to the base, suckling him and moaning around his dick. She played with the tip, swirling her tongue around the head and licking up any drop of pre-cum. She slurped as she released him and then ran her hand up and down his length.

“Wait, put yo mouth back on me,” he said.

“Did you like it?” She asked.

“Fuck yes,” he said.

She did not return her mouth to his dick. She stroked him, driving him insane with the right amount of pressure and speed. But it was nothing like her mouth. He reached up to pull her head back down. He didn’t know why women wanted to be cute when he just wanted to bust.

She moved her head out of the way. “Put your hands down or I stop,” she snapped.

Tyrone’s hands froze in mid air. His mind stuttered as her voice was equal parts erotic and scary. There it was again. That same flash of red in her eyes. She grinned but it was like a slash across her face. Still hot. Still a little scary.

He was no stranger to a girl taking control in the bedroom. He didn’t always like it, but he wasn’t always the cool and calm mu’fucka he projected around LA. He fumbled the first time he had sex. A few times after that as well.

He lowered his hands back to the arm rests and she ran her tongue across her teeth. “Good boy,” she said.

She stroked him and stared at him, waiting to see if he’d try something else. When she was satisfied, she dipped her head and really got to work. Her mouth sucked him down like she was trying to eat him alive. Burning pleasure seeped into him and he threw his head back against the back of the chair.

“Won’t you moan for me, Tyrone? I like to know I’m doing a good job too,” she said and then returned to sucking the soul out of him. That’s exactly what it felt like. Like she was drinking from the very essence of him.

“Goddamn,” he groaned, twisting his hips. Trying to push more of himself into her mouth. He licked his lips and made himself sit up. Made himself watch as his dick slipped in and out of her mouth. His hands gripped the rough fabric of the chair, dying to grab her. Hold her.

Saliva gathered on his dick. Her mouth was hot and perfect on his velvety dick. She added her hands, stroking as she slobbered. The room filled with wet suckling noises. Garbled saliva noises. She slurped him up and his climax hit the base of his spine. His balls grew heavier. The need to cum was overpowering but he did not want this to go too fast.

He wanted to stay in the moment. Stay with her mouth on him. Her hands on him. Her eyes fixed in absolute pleasure. He was used to women doing this shit as if it were a chore. As if it were something they thought he wanted in order to please them back. He wasn’t selfish. He didn’t want them to do anything they didn’t want to do.

But what a fuckin’ difference when he got with a real head hunter. He gave her all of his moans, all of his encouragement. Sweat poured down his temple. He watched and felt her work him, a near feeding frenzy.

He thought about baseball, the DMV, LA traffic, anything to keep this climax at bay. But then she sucked hard enough to sting and he threw his head back once more. “Shiiit,” he groaned.

His powerful climax hit the back of her throat. She hummed around it, swallowing every last drop. She continued to suck him, wringing it all. He fed her and wished he could cum again just to the sound of her humming around his dick.

He heaved as she released him, inch by slow inch, and finally let him go with a wet pop. Her eyes were closed as she licked her lips. The lipstick was a little smudged and he groaned. Fuck. He wanted to go again already. But he’d never quite had the soul sucked out of him like that. He needed a moment to calm down, to get his bearings.

“You beautiful boy,” she whispered, more to herself. He watched the emotions play out on her face as she wiped the corners of her mouth and sucked on her finger.

“You talk about me being nasty,” he said.

The librarians didn’t do it like this back in LA. Maybe he needed to frequent the bookstore more. Find the quiet girls. Those were some closet freaks. Shy as hell though. Still might be worth looking into.

The Librarian chuckled and got to her feet. She moved away but Tyrone grabbed her hand. “Wait, lemme return the favor,” he said.

“That’s okay, baby. I got what I wanted,” she said. Her eyes were too narrow for him to catch her meaning. She caressed his face, those long nails sending arrows of lust straight to his dick.

“Please,” he said and licked his lips. It wasn’t in him to leave a woman unsatisfied while he got off scott-free. He ain’t never begged for pussy. But dammit he wanted it. If her pussy was anything like her head game, he’d have to consider moving here. Maybe getting out of the game would be worth it.

“That’s okay, baby. Really,” she said. She moved her hand from his face and he grabbed her again. He kissed the back of it and then flipped it over to kiss her palm. He left wet kisses on her wrist and up her forearm.

“Let me taste you,” he said. “Please?”

She smirked at him. “What about your friends?”

“Fuck ‘em. They ain’t my kids,” Tyrone said.

She chuckled and raised her eyebrow at him. He shook with restraint. Anyone else and he’d bulldoze his way in. Talk all kinds of nasty shit in their ear to get them to spread their legs. But she was different. She drove him wild.

His skin was feverish. Desperate. He had to have her. There was no way he would leave without tasting her and seeing what made her squirm. What made her scream.

“Come on then,” she said. She said it like she didn’t believe him. That he couldn’t pleasure her. He wondered if some boonie fuck got to fuck her. If she was comparing them. He’d make sure she remembered him.

Tyrone stood up from the chair as she stood facing him, inching her skirt up her thighs and revealing that she, in fact, did not wear panties. He groaned as he watched her. She sat on the desk and spread her legs for him. For him.

He sauntered closer, running his fingers through her soaking folds. He dropped his head to his shoulder and groaned.

“You gon’ kill me,” he said.

She chuckled and ran her hands across his shoulders. She kissed his cheek. “Never,” she said.

He lifted his head high enough to kiss her. The smell and taste of her made him bolder. He slipped his fingers inside of her, pumping her, seeing how much of him she can take. He slipped in with ease and he felt her clench around his fingers.

Pride swept through him that she was so wet for him. He kneeled down, placing one of her legs over his shoulder. He kissed her pussy, inhaled the scent of her. He groaned in satisfaction and feasted on her.

He went in fast, flicking her clit. “Oh shit,” she said. Her hands gripped his shoulder. Her thighs squeezed his head and he went faster, flicking that little nub until it was nice and swollen.

“Right there, right there,” she panted. Her voice rose in octaves. He kept it up, giving her exactly what she needed. He used his thumbs to open her up wider. Her juices coated the entire lower half of his face.

He dug in, licking and flicking, sucking, and moaning. She tasted so damn good, so damn divine. “That’s right, eat it, baby,” she encouraged.

The praise hit him like a sack of bricks. It spurned him on, wanting to please her. He slipped his fingers back into her pussy, curling them and rubbing her spongy wet walls until she couldn’t speak. Couldn’t do anything but murmur and coo and grip his cornrows roughly.

She tensed before orgasming, twitching and jerking beneath him. He licked up what she gushed out, not ready to give up the ghost. All of her sounds were in the back of her throat. Animalistic, guttural.

He stood up, wiped his mouth, and then entered her before she could draw breath. Her eyes flashed red once more but it was just a trick of the light. He pounded into her ruthlessly.

He moaned and kept going. She was a welcome sheath for his straining dick. Her heated core felt so good, so right, that he became more animalistic himself. He pulled her by the legs to the edge of the desk, supporting her weight, and spearing her.

He wanted to split her in half. He fucked her and her pussy gripped his dick like it had a mind of its own. He’d never met a woman like her. Will never meet another.

She only grew wetter and he slipped and sputtered as he pounded. He kept going, searching and reaching for the deepest part of her.

“Goddamn, you feel so good. So - uh- good,” he said.

She cried every time he went in, her face twisted in that perfect mix of ecstasy and pain. “Oh fuck, oh fuck. Deep-mm-deeper,” she moaned.

He angled his hips and pulled her closer, giving all of himself to her. Her hand was on his chest as if to push him away. But she grabbed his shirt and pulled him close, kissing him. She licked his lips and he lost his rhythm. If she kept shit like that up, he wasn’t going to last.

“Let me cum in this pussy,” he begged. “Let me cum in it.” It was a desperate need. That same primal need to mark her or claim her. To fill her up. Humans lost their super sense of smell many evolutions ago. But he wished that anyone who came across her in the future would be able to smell him on her, in her.

She wheezed as he finally hit a spot deep enough for her. She rocked on his dick as she moaned. Her teeth grew a bit sharper, her nails a little longer, and her eyes a wicked deep shade of red.

Her head was thrown back as he watched the transformation, watched as she seemed to swell with energy. “Fuck me, Tyrone. Fuck me,” she said. Her desk made scraping noises as he pounded into her.

His heartbeat was in tune with his strokes. He wanted to stop, needed to stop, but she felt so good bouncing on his dick. She trained those red eyes on him and smirked.

“Cum in this pussy,” she commanded.

He let go, his climax making his eyes cross. He shouted his release into her, pumping her full of his biggest load yet. He stuffed her full and it triggered her own orgasm. She squeezed his dick and he cried out, hoarse, losing his voice to her. Losing his mind to her.

He slipped out while she laughed and settled onto the desk. “Oh, I could gorge myself on you for years,” she said and cackled, throwing her hands across her chest and hugging herself.

He wasn’t tripping. Her eyes really were fucking red. He pulled his pants back up and backed out of the room. Her cackles followed him.

“Come back any time and see me, Tyrone!”

Tyrone ran down the hallway, her cackling laughter seeming to follow him. He didn’t dare risk a look back. He flew past the door, past Mike and Paul.

“What the fuck!” Paul yelled. No need to be told a thing, Mike and Paul raced after Tyrone. He didn’t stop running. Her laughter was in his head. In his skin.

He ran to the car and hopped in the driver’s side. He yelled for the keys. Paul threw it to him and slipped into the passenger side while Mike just made it into the back.

It was pitch black, not even the street lamps enough to pierce the darkness.

“Anytime.” Tyrone heard in his head. The tires squealed against the pavement as he threw the car in reverse.

Fuck Vegas! If there was one thing he knew, it was how to get the fuck home. He put his foot to the floor of the car and peeled off down the road. He was confused, still a little horny, but all around freaked out.

He swerved onto the freeway and put the night and that crazy bitch out of his mind. But the laughter still followed him all the way home.

&&&

You need some more in your life? There's more! The Secret Tyrone Files

#megaminds secret files #The Secret Tyrone Files #They Cloned Tyrone smut #Tyrone smut #Tyrone x Black!OC #Tyrone POV #Tyrone x Fem!OC #x Black OC #Halloweek #Happy Halloweek #Spooky smut #Black writers #Black writers of Tumblr

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thepenultimateword · 4 months

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Secret Santa 2023

For this year’s secret Santa I got @watercolorfreckles (I know you got mine too, but I promise I used a randomizer!) I’m sorry this is late, I’ve been traveling and just writing every chance I can get. I got a little overambitious and wrote several scenes instead of just one, so hopefully it doesn’t feel choppy and you like it!

"Hero's shy medic is the unsung and unappreciated glue that keeps the team together, magically repairing their every injury with her power to heal. What happens when Villain finds out how the hero's broken bones are always so quickly mending, and kidnaps the medic to utilize himself?"

Henchman was waiting in baggage claim when Villain arrived. His violet-dyed hair, thick mess of scars, and tall stature made him stand out against the crowd, but he still waved his whole arm over his head as Villain came through the doors.

Villain's glove creaked feelingless against his suitcase handle. This was getting tiresome. Probably for Henchman too. It was ridiculous that he insisted on picking him up from the airport every trip instead of looking for a new employer.

"Any luck?" Henchman said, seamlessly transferring Villain's bag into his own hand.

Villain's insides twisted. Maybe he should fire Henchman. That would force the underling to think about himself. Though Villain couldn't deny his reluctance to lose such loyalty. He wasn't sure he actually had the strength to enforce his own abandonment.

"Nah." He rubbed his numb hands together and forced a lighthearted tone. "Just another waste of money. I spent three weeks meditating away the damage, only for the so-called "power guru" to say I don't want to be healed. Apparently, if I did, I would have been able to banish the "bile" from my body."

Henchman gave the suitcase wheels a little bang against the ground. "Morons and scam artists.”

"Yes, well, it was a 50/50 shot in the first place. How's my bird?"

Henchman grimaced. "Still eating very little. She has stopped beating against her cage, but now she's very lethargic and despondent."

"You've tried cheering her up? Good food, nice things?"

"Yes, but she's not very chatty. Maybe we should have waited to get her until after your trip. This would have gone better with...some stability."

The automatic door swooshed open, and they stepped out into the chill winter air. Villain blew out a long cloudy breath and watched it disappear into the dreary, gray city landscape. Everything was so temporary. Here one moment, gone the next.

"The opportunity was too good," he said. "Besides, we couldn't leave her with our friend."

Hero had enough of an advantage without also having a decent healer on his side. No matter how many hits Villain divvied out, the heroic team always got back up unscathed. Perhaps without their golden goose, Villain could actually turn the tide. And maybe... Villain didn't want to get his hopes up, but maybe she could do something more too. He knew that Henchman knew that was the main reason he’d stolen her away in the first place. By this point he was just pretending to himself that there was a bigger purpose behind it all.

The crosswalk sign beeped its permission to cross the street, and Villain scanned the lot for Henchman's car, spotting its orangey paint job near the front.

"I am concerned she's been doing poorly this whole time. Why don't we stop by her enclosure first."

Henchman nodded and very kindly played along with the act that this was truly concern over an asset and not another cowardly excuse for himself. “I don’t think she’ll be very pleased to see you.”

She’s not going to help you.

“That’s alright.” Villain slid into the passenger seat. As Henchman loaded his suitcase into the trunk, he muttered under his breath, “I don’t have much left to lose.”

***

Villain called her Birdie.

Of course he knew her real title as Hero’s medic, but the nickname just encapsulated her so well.

So small. So skittish. Always flitting around the outskirts of a fight, the great folds of her medic’s cloak flapping at her sides like wings as she lighted briefly at each fallen party. The color was supposed to mark her as a noncombatant, take any targets of her back, but she had the instincts to remain wary always. Most villains didn’t follow the rules, and the gray was as likely to get her killed as not.

So why continue to wear it? Villain wondered, watching her through the one way glass of her cell's wall mirror. It was really more of a mini apartment than a cell--sitting room, bedroom, bathroom. The sitting room was the only room Villain could view into, but he doubted whether Medic knew that. Perhaps it was riskier to give a hostage so much blind space, but anyone worth keeping around couldn't be kept like any regular prisoner. Though, from the looks of it, Medic wasn't exactly grateful for the thoughtful accommodations.

She sat with her face buried in her knees, grey cloak nearly swallowing her little curled up body whole. He'd asked Henchman to prepare daily clothes changes, and the peeking green edge of sleeve implied she'd been taking them, but the cloak remained the same.

Villain moved around to the front of the cell and drew back the bolt on the otherwise regular door, taking a breath before swinging it open with a flourish. “Hello, Birdie.”

The woman leaped a little, head shooting up and fixing him in the inky black pools that were her eyes.

“Sorry for the delay." He locked the door behind him as casually as he could manage. "I’ve been out of town. But now we can finally chat."

Medic blinked then turned her chin into her shoulder.

Villain plopped down on the couch a couple feet away from her place on the rug. "Apparently you haven't been eating properly. Is the food not up to standard? Can I get you something else? Any favorite meals or treats?"

Medic didn't turn or respond.

"Hmm...what do birdies like. Worms?"

The healer's lip curled a little but still nothing.

"How about chocolate? Steak? Fruit tarts?"

Medic only tucked her chin tighter.

"Alright, I get it. The nice treatment doesn't work on you. Unfortunately, I don't have a mean treatment. Not for you at least. I can't asks favors from someone by relying on fear."

That got her attention. She still didn't unfold, but her eyes watched him sideways. Wary but curious. What could a villain need from a healer. He must have his own, so why her? She didn't need to speak for her thoughts to clutter the air.

"No, I can't just tell you," Villain said with a loud sigh. "You might go tell that precious hero team. I know you're quiet, but I don't believe for a second you're that quiet."

Medic swiveled her shoulders ever so slightly. "How...?"

Her voice was not so birdlike. Short yes, but like a rasped breath than a chirp. Still...

Villain grinned. "The very best of ways: by pretending I knew what you were thinking. Throw out a guess and you'll be right 80% percent of the time. That's also a guess by the way, I haven't actually researched the subject."

Medic retreated back into her cloak.

Darn.

Either he was totally unhumorous, or Medic was just that hard to entertain. Then again, she'd seemed interested by the prospect of a supernatural ability. She'd only clammed up again once she got the simple explanation for her question. She should've already known his Gift from the fights she'd witnessed, though he had held bad considerably this last year.

"You're not like other medics," he said, redirecting the conversation. "You have a Gift, don't you? And don't deny it, I've seen the recovery your patients. Scarless, rapid, perfect. One fight I saw a hero putting full weight on what, minutes previously, had been broken femur."

"And that's why you want me?" Medic squeezed her hands together, nails digging into the back of her knuckles like each word spoken aloud pained her. "Because I'm better than your medics? You want me to turncoat?"

"Not entirely. I took you because your good, yes. So good you've kept that ragtag trash hero team up and running way longer than it should have ever been allowed to go. Hero needs to be stopped."

Nothing.

"I'm going to the statue unveiling tonight." He watched her face closely. "I'm going to break it. And while I'm at it, break him."

"He's not that fragile," Medic said, her voice hushing a little further, and her brow furrowing.

"Ah, you know because you've tried?"

"I know because I' m his medic and I know how much treatment each fight requires." It came out quite a bit snappier than Villain expected and Medic must have realized it too because she set her jaw and looked away again. "I can't help you."

Villain pushed himself back to his feet. The declaration was firm, but hardly the denial of a truly devoted team member. Or maybe he was just reading to hard into things. Medic was shy. Maybe she wanted to make herself clear in as few words as possible. But if there was a chance only her fear was holding her back...

"I'll let you know how it goes," Villain said. With that, he made his way back outside the cell, bolting the door behind him with fumbling fingers. He flexed his hands a couple times, as if to warm them back to full function, but they felt as clumsy and disconnected as always. He shoved them gloved into his coat pockets.

Don't think about that. You have a hero to fight.

***

Villain couldn't feel his shoulders. He'd definitely overdone it. He'd overestimated his ability to fight with his arms as damaged as they were and he had relied too much on the power he'd been so careful to conserve.

He stumbled hard against Medic's door, sliding weakly to his knees. He didn't know why he came here. Henchman was probably having a fit searching for him after he'd bolted. Most of those heroes laid in shattered pieces at the scene. Or at least, parts of them did. Villain had found long ago that his Gift--the power to turn whatever he willed to stone--could be used strategically. The loss of limbs was usually enough to make a hero retire, no need to end a whole life. He wouldn't have minded ending Hero, but once again, the leader was the only one who escaped unscathed. Too this day Villain had only ever managed to take a pinky. It was a wonder no one found that suspicious.

Villain slammed his fist against the cell door, or more like tapped. He stifled a sob. “I don’t want to die.”

Not yet. Not without bringing down Hero’s deceit.

Villain strained to reach the bolt, fumbling it twice before finally jostling it outward. He practically collapsed onto Medic’s rug.

Dark spots clouded his vision but suddenly cool hands were running trails down his face.

“Villain?”

Medic?

No wait, the door…he needed to close…why was she still here?

“Uuughh…” Villain rolled into her knees. “It did not go well.”

“What did he do?”

“Besides use every other person as a shield?”

“I mean to your face.”

Villain squinted up into Medic’s dark eyes, so deep and concerned and…and infinite.

“My face,” he mumbled.

“Are these bruises?” Her fingers trailed a second time down his cheek. “It looks painful.”

“It’s in my face?” Villain barely restrained a wail.

“Villain,” Medic said firmly, her quiet rasp getting almost loud. “What happened? Do you need healing?”

Villain’s throat felt thick and swollen, too sticky to get out words. Of course he needed healing. But if she couldn’t help him…he didn’t know if he could take another failure. He didn’t know if his body could take it.

He extended his hand. When Medic only stared, he nodded at the black, fitted glove.

Medic’s thumb worked under the edge. Villain felt nothing but he imagined her fingers felt just as gentle as they had on his cheek.

She gasped.

Villain glanced at the bare skin for only a moment. The once caramel colored palm now a deep ebony. Like something rotten. Like something dead.

“Villain?”

Villain cleared his throat, fighting the words upward. “All powers have a price.” He forced himself to look at blighted appendage. “Mine’s is killing me.”

Medic turned his hand over in her own. “How long?”

“Always. It used to just be a little. Nails. Hair. Parts I could cut off. Then it hit skin…and it won’t stop. I can’t feel; I can hardly move. And no one…” He choked. “I’m going to die. All from trying too hard to rid the world of Hero, and I couldn’t even finish him tonight.”

Medic rested her fingers on the cuff of Villain’s sleeve, eyes meeting Villain's with some unspoken request for permission.

Villain nodded.

Medic's nimble fingers gently picked at the button, freeing the fabric and rolling it up to his elbow. Villain’s eyes widened along with hers. What had once had been dark veins was now as pitch black his hands. From the nothingness in his shoulders it was probably no different above the elbow.

Medic felt gently at the half-petrifaction. Most people, even his most loyal were afraid of the blight. Henchman was unfazed, but the previous medic had quit rather than admit they didn't want anywhere near Villain. And yet Medic touched him willingly.

“You can’t fix it, can you?” Villain said, practically plead. He didn’t care anymore. Even with the doubt in his gut and in his voice. He just needed help.

“I…I might…” Medic said.

“But Hero wouldn’t like it.”

Medic ducked her head. “It’s not that. Well, no…you’re right, he wouldn’t, but he wouldn’t have to know. And there are no specific rules that say I can’t heal a villain, it’s just…”

Villain blinked groggily up at her as she chewed her bottom lip.

“Like you said, all powers have a price.”

“And this one is too much,” Villain said.

“Yes, well, no. I don’t know.” She glanced toward the open door. “Maybe there’s a better healer…”

Villain closed his eyes, practically sinking with resignation. “No. Already tried. I don’t think I have the energy to search anymore.” He clasped numb fingers around his numb arm. “Or the time.”

A long silence stretched between them.

“It’s alright, Birdie. Fly away.”

It didn’t matter who she told now.

Medic pushed him carefully off her lap, clothes rustling as she rose. Two steps sounded toward the door way and then stopped.

“I’m not supposed to…but I’ll do it.”

Villains eyes shot open. “You will?”

Medic sucked in her lips but nodded. “Just…don’t tell.”

She knelt beside him, long gray cloak fanning out around her. The second glove peeled off easier than the first, and she held both hands in hers.

He’d always wondered what it felt it like to experience one of her gifted healings.

It was warm. Like drinking something hot. It spread from head to toe, and the numbness leeched out little by little. The skin lightened from black to charcoal from charcoal to heather grey from grey to brown.

Medic’s hands turned soft in his grip. He squeezed them lightly, his mouth parting in disbelief at the feeling of pressure of warmth of regular mobility. When he sat up, it came easy. Tears sprang to his eyes.

“You did it! You actually did it! Medic, you are—“

He stopped at the sight of her slumping figure. Sweat rolled down her temples, her face was flushed, and her teeth were grit as if in agony.

“Birdie?”

Medic only shivered.

“Birdie. Birdie, are you alright?”

Villain reached out, but she lurched back, stumbling toward the back corner. Veiny blackness spread from her fingertips, trailing up the creases in her skin. Her shoulders trembled. A small vein popped out of from her forehead. And she glared at the blight. Not like someone afraid of it, but like someone who’d like to peel it off and throw it away. Or burn it.

“No!” she cried and slammed both palms against the wall mirror with a feral cry. Immediately the glass crackled and, like a rolling wave, turned to cold, hard stone.

The black faded from dark ebony to a tan spot only

A few shades darker than her skin. She still glared.

Villain gaped. “You… That’s what I do. How did you do what I do? Did I…? Did you…?”

Medic’s eyes darted toward the door.

Villain jumped in front of it first. “Hey hey hey! I’m not going to tell!”

Another guess but apparently the right one because Medic’s shouldered untensed a fraction.

“I’m not going to tell,” Villain repeated. “I just… How?”

Medic wrapped her cloak tighter around herself. Her eyes had taken on a glazed shine suspiciously alike to unshed tears.

“It’s not exactly healing,” she murmured. “More like stealing. Taking injuries and making them mine.”

“The price.”

She nodded. “But this sort of injury…made from a Gift, it doesn’t work the same. It’s more like a build up of power concentrated in one place. And now that it’s mine…I can do what I like with it.”

Villain cocked his head. “And that’s…bad?”

“I don’t work for Hero,” Medic said. “I’m on the team because he’s supposed to watch me. Stop me from doing things like this.”

“Becoming too powerful?”

“Becoming a villain.”

Villain might have laughed if she didn’t actually look so scared. He took her hands carefully, savoring the sensation of skin on skin warmth once again. He fixed her with a hard stare that she seemed uncertain to hold or shy away from. He smiled, the first real one in a long time.

“What’s wrong with villains?”

Medic swallowed, looking away but not pulling back her hands. Her voice came out very quiet. “I guess…not everything.”

#villain x medic #villain x civilian #hero x villain #heroes and villains #creative writing #writblr #writeblr #secret santa #agggh I couldn’t figure out how to end it #and I’ve been in a bit of a block #so it was a bit tough #but ah well #it was a fun premise to explore!

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syddsatyrn · 3 months

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Chapter 1 ⛤ Chapter 2 ⛤ Chapter 3 ⛤ Chapter 4 ⛤ Chapter 5 Masterlist

⛤Pairing: - Eddie Munson x FemReader

⛤Warnings: Swearing, drinking / smoking, fluff, friends to lovers. This is probably gonna end in smut.

⛤Words: 1.4k

⛤Song: "Photograph" By Def Leppard

⛤Summary: Moving away from Hawkins was the biggest mistake of your life. You left your best friends and forgot to stay in touch. Years later, you decide to hit up your good friend Steve. Its time to make a plan and make amends. The one thing you didn't expect was feelings to resurface when you saw your old highschool crush.

⛤Notes: This series is 18+ Minors scram. Special thanks to @hellfiremunsonn, I am a wreck without her, lol. This chapter is a little short. We are doing a slow burn, ladies , gentleman and nonbinary friends. Next Chapter will have Eddie in it I promise! Please check out Chapter one before you start this one. Thank you!

⛤Chapter 2: Pulling Strings You walk into work early and meet up with your manager. You explain that you need a week off to visit family in Hawkins. They calculate your vacation time and approve it, it's official! In two weeks you're going back to your childhood hometown. You asked a couple of coworkers to help cover your shift and got lucky, they both agreed they could use the extra hours. It was the longest two weeks that you've ever experienced. You passed the time with some shopping for your trip. You made sure to get all the essentials, and a couple of new cute outfits to bring too. You visited your mom and told her all about your plans, she's excited for you! She even sent you off with a little extra money, just in case.

Everything appears to be falling into place. The anticipation is killing you. But you start to find yourself thinking about Eddie quite often. You thought about his dark brown eyes, and how shockingly cute he was when he smiled. Back when things got difficult with your family, Eddie was always down for some late-night talks, listening to you vent for hours sometimes.

The night before you left, you spent time packing, calling Steve, and confirming some minor details. You took a shower before bed and watched some late night TV. When you finally decide to turn in, you crawl under the comforter and try your best to get some rest. Even if you still feel a huge pit in your stomach.

—--------------

You're beginning to think you should have packed lighter as you hauled your bags down to the car. You load everything into the trunk and settle into the driver's seat. You take a deep breath and start the car, the engine roars and you hit the gas. There's no next time, it's now or never. Time to take a leap of faith and do your best to be a better friend. You might not get another chance. The sun shines through your windshield as you turn the bend, the fresh Indiana air is crisp and clean. As you see the “Welcome to Hawkins” sign, your body starts to tense up. You try to recall the directions Steve gave you in the correct order. You turned onto main street and kept on until you saw the blue apartments named “Hawkin’s Heights”. You pulled into the parking lot and backed into a parking space carefully and cut the engine.

It took you what felt like forever to get out of the car. But after a few deep breaths and some time to mentally hype yourself up, you are ready. You walk upstairs and follow the numbers until you find apartment 106. You knock on the door and it instantly opens.

“Y/N! I’m so glad you made it!” Steve looks completely thrilled to see you. He scoops you up into a hug and pulls you inside the apartment, shutting the door behind you.

“Hi Stevie” You laughed “It’s so nice to see you!” Steve finally lets go and you recognize the other familiar face in the room. It was none other than Dustin Henderson.

“Oh my god, Dustin?! You’re like…all grown up!” You can't believe how mature he looks now. You give him a massive hug, he's taller than you now. Time sure does fly, kids sure do grow up fast. The boys head downstairs to help you lug your bags inside, thank goodness you didn't have to do that alone.

Once you get inside you notice the boys are taking your stuff down the hall, and you follow them. Once you walk through the threshold you immediately know whose room this is.

“You’ll be staying in Eddie's room. He comes back from tour in two days so you’ll see him then. I’m sure he won’t mind at all.” Steve explains so casually like it's no big deal.

“Oh god, I couldn’t just take his room. I would feel so bad. What if I take the couch?” You ask with a nervous laugh.

“Can’t, Dustin is on the couch. His mom went on this singles cruise. Even now I’m still somehow babysitting.” Steve laughs and Dustin scoffs at him. Your face turns a little red at the thought of sleeping in your high school crush’s bed.

“Don't listen to him, Y/N, my mom is just paranoid.” Dustin retorts as he follows Steve to the kitchen.

They both leave you to order some pizza and give you time to settle in. The room is truthfully very clean, there are Metal posters all over the walls, along with flyers from shows he’s played. He has some Christmas lights hanging for some ambiance. You take a seat on his queen-sized bed, it feels really comfy. The back comforter and black pillow cases were so him. There are guitars hanging on the wall, a couple of guitar stands, and amps off to the side.

I guess it can't be helped. You'll have to deal with it for now, maybe you can crash at Robin’s later. You shut the door and find yourself some lounge clothes to wear, settling on a pair of shorts and a large Metallica t-shirt. After brushing out your hair and setting out some clothes for tomorrow, you decide to join the boys in the kitchen.

“We got two large pepperoni pizzas,” Dustin announces, Steve opens two beers and offers you one. You gladly take it and grin as you see the label.

“Did you buy my favorite beer on purpose?” You ask, poking fun at how much of an accommodating host Steve can be. When the pizza arrives you all settle down in the living room and watch some late-night sitcom. Steve tells you all about the lengths he's gone to get everyone to gather here.

Nancy is coming to visit with Johnathan, they are staying with her parents. Robin has no idea you were here, Steve had to come up with some ridiculous excuse for her not to show up today. Eddie called to tell him when he would be returning in a couple of days and Steve had to play it cool like nothing was going on. He told them we were throwing a get-together at the Hideout but didn't mention you in the slightest.

“Wow…Look at you pulling all the strings.” You clapped softly and Steve took a little bow. You were truly impressed with his ability to put all of this together. “Thank you, Steve. This is so cool of you.”

“It was nothin’ really. You called and I had to make it happen.” He shrugs with a half smile. You hug your friend and decide to excuse yourself. You had a long drive and it was exhausting. You walk back to Eddie’s room to turn in for the night. When you look over at the nightstand you see a pack of cigarettes, half empty. Eddie used to bum you cigs when you hung out at his trailer. You flash back to the time your Dad was drunk and acting out, arguing with your mom. You ran off to Eddie’s place and your mom almost called the cops.

You grabbed one out of the pack and used the lighter next to the ashtray. You opened up a window and placed the cigarette between your lips and lit it. The taste was like shaking hands with an old friend. It was smooth and you almost feel bad for breaking your 3 year streak but also, one won't hurt…probably. That same nostalgic feeling you felt opening those boxes came flooding back in.

We were just teenagers, there were so many signs that he was head over heels for you but you were naive, oblivious, and it hurt you a little. Neither of you had the guts to say anything to each other. A regret that made you feel shameful to say the least. You’ve wondered if he still has feelings for you or is he off having the time of his life with his groupie fangirls?

When you try to define this feeling it's next to impossible, you feel a sense of anticipation. It's like you’re eager to relive some feelings, or longing for a simpler time. You take a few drags and try to wave the smoke and your insecurities out the window. You can't wait to see Robin tomorrow. It's time to get some sleep, you have a feeling you won't be getting much for the rest of the week.

You put out your cigarette and shut the window, turn out the light, and finally crawl under the covers. You have to admit, his bed smells really good, like fresh linen and men's cologne. It made you feel especially comfortable, and it didn't take long to ease into a deep slumber. You could get used to this kind of contentment.

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bon2bonn · 5 months

Text

Paper hearts PT.1

Lets go!🥊🌼

MMA!fighter!Max Verstappen X female!reader

Max verstappen X fem!reader

Words count : 1.3k

09:30 The buzzing audience held their breath as the third round rolled in , anticipating the movements of both opponents as they glide across the ring circling around before lunging to attacck .

He had the upper hand through the previous rounds , now defending perfectly before cornering his opponent delivering quick and brutal punches and kicks . Before spinning a 360° to aim a back kick that knocked him out . The audience roared as the referee declared it a K.O . The bell rang declaring him the winner .

The flashing cameras, the swarms of people congratulating him shaking his hands , clamping him on the back as he passed and chanting his name all fade into white noise in the confidence of the locker room , his team high on spirit all congratulate him again as he thanked them all for their efforts and support making a small speech a promise to more wins and more achievements to come .

getting checked by one of the medics as everyone was backing up or busy with their own thing preparing to celebrate yet another win , his father approached , not looking so pleased with his win , "that would've finished sooner if you didn't let your gaurds down the first round" . he huffed collecting his bag shoving his phone and wallet in getting ready to leave adding curtly "I had it covered" , his father replayed with great annoyance "it could have cost you the match" max just stared at him "it didn't, and if that's not enough for you" he raised the belt giving him a pissed look "this should be enough for you to get you off my back , and fuck off" .

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02:45 She hastly pocketed her phone , wore a hoodie , an old baseball cap , picking her shoes and tiptoeing to the window carefully , opening the latch and looking out the window for a minute or so , then she threw her shoes out making sure to not hit the overly expensive uniquely designed (ugly) birds statue's strewn across the garden , then she pulled herself out the window sitting on the ledge . The hight still gave her nausea , the third floor is not that easy to psych yourself to get down from , specially when your way down is an old piping system that she's totally sure is rusted out , but she'll make do with what she got , and that's what she got now so she reached to the pipe with one hand steadily sliding to firmly plant her bare feet on the sides of it , she counted in her mind then she pulled her Wight off the window and latched both her hands and feet onto the main pipe , sliding slowly down to the floor below, pausing every now and then to make sure it's still Holding and that no one woke up .

Letting an exaggerated huff as she finally reached the ground , putting her shoes on and making sure the coast is clear then climbed up the fence and made a run down the road heading north .

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03:15 his flight touched down , late flights are a pleasing when the airport looked almost deserted , finding a cap he gave the address leaning back , looking out the window at the lamp posts eliminating the empty streets , flashing as the car passed them . Closing his eyes for a second to ease his mind . Looking to the left he had a glimpse of a silhouette lying down atop the hill basking in the night sky view , and for the moment he wished he'd be in their place , to be content with just being out in the open fields . The car took a turn snapping him out ah his thoughts looking at his phone buzzing with texts from his friends and family but mostly from his father , rolling his eyes he switched it off throwing it on his Carry-on bag going back to gaze out the window .

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04:48 lying down with a pleased humm after she managed to climb up the hill , passing by the tall unkempt grass on the edge of the park right behind the line of trees framing the bond . The clearing of grass rolled on all around the hill reaching all the way to the old fencing of the highway exit , it's a long walk but the atmosphere is worth the effort , it's quite and calming , the air clear and cool against her face taking in deep breath exhaling it slowly in a relaxed manner .

The lights from the lamp posts on the road blended with the gleaming stars in the distance, the moon is almost full Maybe in two more nights it'll reach it's peak before fading out to nothing .

After a while she glanced at the time , cursing as she lost track letting her mind drift not aware how much time passed , she stood up walking back down the hill heading to a side entrance for a short cut instead of the main gate , waving at the figure sitting on a bench facing the lake as she passed by , speeding up after they waved back at her .

She stepped out moving in a fast pace close to a run crossing the street and going back .

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04: 50 he unlocked his front door taking off his shoes and hanging up his jacket greeted by his cats burring as he held them up scratching behind their ears as they Burred in content relaxing and leaning into his hold , leaving his bag by the living room entrance as he sets them down then watching as they padded away before going straight to take a quick shower , then to bed , falling asleep not a minute later.

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05:02 she climbed back in through the window , discarding her hoodie somewhere around her room , her cap going to the bedside table and her shoes kicked by the door , landing on her bed with a tired huff she tossed her phone on the carpeted floor below the bed turning to face the wall before drifting into a restless sleep .

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08:00 he's already awake , doing a warm up exercises and putting together a meal to start the day . Checking the kitchen to make a list for later , feeding the cats before grabbing his gym bag locking his door and heading out .

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08:10 she woke up after the third snooze alarm blaring out to get her to move off the bed , she was thankful for putting together something to wear the night before . Taking a quick shower, brushing her teeth and her hair before grabbing the day's necessary items putting them in her bag then heading out in a sprint , leaving in a haste she opted to get something to eat on the way .

Her first stop is Angela's shop . Giving the owner a warm greeting along with Marc who started working three weeks ago, taking the two separate bouquet's paying and thanking her again before moving to the next stop .

Turning the corner she pumped into someone, causing her bag and flowers to fall along with the stranger's bag , both apologizing while picking up their things apologizing again before she hastly went on her way .

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He was about to go on his way looking down he found a single flower laying down before him , muttering quietly "it must've fell from her" , turning after picking it up to give it back , he only saw her back getting lost in the crowded street ahead . Looking down at it he decided against throwing it away , he held it gently adjusting the bag on his shoulder Before moving on on his way .

#max verstappen #max verstappen fanfic #max verstappen imagine #max verstappen x reader #max verstappen x you #f1 fanfic #f1 au #f1 x reader #f1 imagine #MMA!fighter!max verstappen #max verstappen imagines #max verstappen x y/n #max verstappen au #paper hearts

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stell404 · 7 months

Text

𝗟𝗔𝗧𝗘 𝗡𝗜𝗚𝗛𝗧 𝗧𝗔𝗟𝗞𝗦

𝗧𝗢𝗠 𝗞𝗔𝗨𝗟𝗜𝗧𝗭 𝗫 𝗥𝗘𝗔𝗗𝗘𝗥

🎧

synopsis: Late night talks. word count: 624 notes: hope you guys like this!! this was supposed to be really short with 100 words only but i got carried away and started rambling ab my own thoughts💀 this is lightly inspired by their song 'reden' it's one of my faves, that's where the "deep late night talks" idea came from. also please leave reqs for tom kaulitz (or the other fandoms i right for)!!!

🎧

The low grumble of thunder was what initially woke Tom. A flash of lightning from inside the clouds illuminates the room for a brief moment, the weather has been rapidly changing these past few weeks. Sudden snowfalls happening out of nowhere or lightning in the middle of the day—though the lightning never really hits the ground, always just in the clouds.

He reaches his hand to the other side of the bed where he was hoping to find his girlfriend—[Name]. A frown wrinkling his face when he feels nothing but the soft covers of the bed.

Another lightning brightens the dark cozy apartment, it startled him a bit but it did him a favor, it lit up the room as he looked over to the window and there she was. [Name] was sitting on the bay window seat hugging her knees to her chest, looking at the view. Though it was late at night and it was snowing and thundering, the city still was lively, red lights emitting from the cars on the street, warm lights from the tall buildings which allowed you to make out dark figures of the people inside.

Tom walks over to her "Room for one more?" he murmurs.

"Of course" she nodded, shuffling to the side to provide Tom space to sit beside her. Once he's settled, she leaned on his shoulder. Tom didn't really understand what she was doing, but nevertheless, he still joined her.

"It's wonderful isn't it?" she asked as she looked at the city in front of them.

"What?" he sounded confused.

"The people."

"I guess?"

She pointed to a small group of people—which seemed to be friends—walking the streets drunkenly, wobbling from side to side, "They probably just came from a club, group of friends escaping their lives temporarily."

Tom squinted his eyes, their apartment was pretty high up, but you could still see the people on the streets.

Then she pointed to an apartment complex, this one had warm yellow lights and a figure of what looked like a grandma knitting, "She looks lonely."

Tom chuckled in response, "You like watching people?"

"It's interesting isn't it? Everyone out there has their own lives, own problems, they're all the main characters of their story. We all have our own problems and we get too caught up on it to realize that it's not just us here, we exist with other people, other species. It really puts you in perspective, makes you realize that you're never really alone." she rambles, still looking at the vast city beyond them.

He thought for a while before speaking up, "Yeah...it's nice," he said though he really doesn't get how she's interested, but he was willing to listen just to make her happy.

She continued to ramble about deep topic involving humanity, talking about how "humans have always been humans", and "the human instinct to mark the world derived from a need for community or to be remembered greatly by society", all these are topics Tom didn't find interest on, but nevertheless, he listened, he always does.

So there they sat, on the bay window seat, looking out into the vast world beyond them, their words and occasional laughter echoing around the apartment. It was then they both realized how lucky they truly are, what are the chances they could've met? A guy like him and a girl like her? It's something you'd never expect. Something only from the movies or the pages of a book. The way the world worked was something that will never cease to amaze her—amaze both of them.

"I love you," he mumbled, pressing a kiss on the top of her head as she leans of his shoulder.

"I love you too."

#tom kaulitz x reader #tom kaulitz x you #tokio hotel x reader #tokio hotel #tom kaulitz #dearstell

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skyfallslayer · 2 months

Text

Should We Stay or Should We Go? || Chapter One

-A ST Rewrite Feat. Steve Harrington x Henderson!OFC-

Main Masterlist || Series Masterlist

🎲Summary: On the night of November 6th, 1983, Stephanie Henderson decided to walk her little brother’s friend, Will, back home. However… they never arrive. Now, Dustin, Mike and Lucas, and soon the exception of the girl’s ex-best friend, Steve, must band together to find out what happened. Meanwhile, Steph and Will must fight for their survival in this nightmarish version of Hawkins, Indiana.

🎲Chapter Summary: On his way home from a friend’s house, young Will and his best friend’s sister, Stephanie, sees something terrifying. Nearby, their loved ones start worrying hysterically, all while Steve hears some unsettling news.

🎲Pairings: Will x Platonic!OFC; Dustin x Sister!OC; Slow burn! Steve x Henderson!OFC (Ex-bestfriends to Lovers); Slow burn! Byler

🎲Rating: Teen-Mature

🎲Word Count: 9,471

🎲Date: 3/12

🎲Warnings: Angst; Swearing; Implied Broken Friendship; Racist Comment; Talks of Kidnapping; Car Crash; Mental Strain/Breaking Down; Implying to Sex; Lying; Suicide Comment; Homophobic Comment/Calling A Person A Derogatory Word; Implied Death; Steve's 'Asshole Era. READ AT YOUR OWN RISK!

(And let me know if I missed anything)

🎲A/N: Here we go folks. The official rewrite of episode one. Can't say it's perfect, might be a little messy, but think of it as it setting the whole plot up. Anyway, stay safe, and enjoy!

“It was a seven.” The words fell from his lips that would predestine this night. On the chilly night of November 6th, 1983, the small group of friends had gotten together to play their weekly game of DnD that was cut long short for being on a school night. Two of the boys had rode off on their bikes, away from the host’s house as the young brunette told his friend the truth.

The boy of the house, Mike Wheeler, turned his head, confusion on his face. “Huh?”

“The roll, it was a seven.” The brunette, Will Byers, replies, a frown on his face. “The Demogorgon, it got me.” He kicks the stand off and starts riding. “See you tomorrow.”

As his words lingered in the air, the garage lights flickered on and off that was forgotten with a shrug.

Young Will catches up quickly with the other boys, Lucas Sinclair and Dustin Henderson. The wind in their eyes and smiles on their faces, they continued to ride for many blocks, slowly coming unwind.

“Good night, ladies.” Lucas teased as he broke from the group for his driveway.

“Kiss your mom ‘night for me.” Dustin quips back, before facing the other boy. “Race you back to my place? Winner gets whatever my sister brings home this time.”

Will’s eyes light up from that. “Really?”

“Yeah.” Dustin says, not expecting for his opponent to take off immediately.

“Hey! Hey! I didn’t say ‘go’! Get back here!” But as he says that, he knows there was no stopping his friend. “I’m gonna kill you!”

Will chuckled and shouted, “Bring it to school tomorrow!”

Dustin hits the breaks, out of breath and frustrated as he replies, “Son of a bitch…” Meanwhile, his friend pretended he didn’t hear that as he rode down the street they dubbed ‘Mirkwood’.

Yes, he lived the farthest away from… anything really; His friends’ houses, his school, the nearby strip mall, pretty much everything that was ‘useful’, But he didn’t mind it. As long as his family was happy with their place he could go along with it.

So Will continued to ride, in his own head that was causing him to ignore when his headlight flickered off and on until his bike chain magically came apart.

The boy gasped and swerved in a jagged line, worriedness on his features as he used his feet to forcefully come to a complete halt. Stopping along the side of the road, he looked down, trying to figure out what the problem was. While doing so, he didn’t even notice a car had slowed and rolled its window down.

“Will?” The person in the vehicle said, catching him by surprise.

He was met with a familiar face, the fair skin, freckled nose, and dark curls tied back in a small pony was a girl he practically grew up with. Ironically, she was the older sister of the boy he raced, Stephanie Henderson.

“Steph?” He said, still shocked as he watched her get out. Those bright blue eyes of hers trailed to his only transportation and frowned.

“What happened to your bike?”

“Uh, chain broke. I think.” Will says, looking at it again, and then back at her. “You’re coming home late.”

“You’ll understand when you have a job and a crappy boss.” She smiles, softly. “Come on. Put your bike in the car and I’ll drive you.”

“What?” He looks at her in disbelief. “Are you sure? You came that direction.”

“You know I don’t mind. Besides, it’s quicker and safer than walking. Plus I’m sure your brother and mother would appreciate it.” She says, opening the back door.

“But what about your mom?”

“I called her already and told her that I’ll be a little late.” She gestures to the car. “Come on.” He smiles and puts the bike in before hopping in the passenger seat. She even spoils him by handing him a paper brown bag. “Cinnamon bun?”

His eyes light up. “Actually, Dustin betted me that if I beat him in a race back to his house I can have whatever you bring.”

“Then I guess they’re all yours.” She turns the car around. “So how was your campaign?”

“It was good until the end.” He takes a bite of the pastry. “I ended up getting beaten by the Demogorgon.”

“Remind me what that is again?”

“He’s a two headed demon prince. Very evil.”

“I see.”

Another bite and a small hum. “You should try playing it.”

She raises an eyebrow. “You think?”

“Yeah, it’ll be fun!” Now he was like a kid in a candy store. “You can be… our mage! A druid, or maybe even a ranger.”

She chuckles quietly. “I… have no idea what any of that even means. But uh… I’ll give it a shot. What’s the worst that can happen? I hate it?”

“Or you get eaten by a Demogorgon.”

“That’s true.” Steph agreed, and continued their light conversation until something strange started to happen. She watches as her headlights suddenly start to flicker. “What the?”

“Look out!” Will yelled, and her eyes snapped back up just in time to spot the bizarre looking figure in the road.

She gasps and veers off the road, foot slamming into the brakes as it rolled down and down into the woods, crashing into a tree. Now, it wasn’t that bad of a hit, more like a little thump, but still. A crash is a crash.

Stephanie lets out a pant, tiling her baseball cap back up to look worriedly towards her passenger. “Shit! You okay?”

“Uh…” He nods, a little shaken up, but looking unharmed. “Yeah. I’m good.”

Another pant and she looks around. “Who that fuck was that?!” She snaps, upset. “Who the fuck stands in the middle of the road at nine o’clock at night?!”

But as she was having her meltdown, Will was staring at the side mirror and paled. “Steph?” He says, terrified.

“What?”

“I think he’s coming.”

“What?” She followed his eyes to the mirror before turning around. Standing behind them a few feet away was the figure who made her heart sink at its unnaturally long arms, and fingers coming at a point. Now she starts pales. “That’s not a person.”

“Huh?”

She starts fiddling with the door. “Get out of– Get out of the car, now!”

Once they were both out, she snags him by the wrist and pulls him along, running as fast as they could, a few miles down, all the way back to what their destination was. As soon as they stepped a foot inside the Byers home, the family’s dog, Chester, started barking defensively as she told the boy to lock the door.

“Mom? Jonathan? Mom?!” He replies after finishing the task, but alas it seems like they were the only ones home.

“Ms. Byers?!” Steph yells out, biting her lip. “Shit.” She runs for the phone as he looks out a window and sees the figure approaching the house. She tries dialing 911, but all she receives on the other end is static. “What the fuck?!”

“It’s unlocking the chain!” Will yells, backing away as she takes a look. Sure enough, they watched the chain on the door slide itself across the track as the other locks started to turn (What in the fresh hell is going on?!).

“Come on!” She pulls him away, thinking the only thing they can do is protect themselves now.

They both run into the shed in the back, Will remembering what his mother had told him if something to this degree started happening, and begins loading the shotgun on the wall.

“Is that all you got?” She asked, searching around for anything else she could use.

“Y-Yeah.” He mutters, and frantically points the weapon at the door, trembling as the girl stood behind him, hands over his and shielding his body protectively.

“If that thing comes in, shoot it. I’ll hold you steady so you don’t fall back.” She says, and he nods (His body subconsciously pressing into hers out of fear and comfort).

But the next few moments were tedtious, hearing that thing growling, which got louder and louder, until it sounded like it was right next to them. Steph, who felt the wind get knocked out of her, was the first to turn around, eyes widened as she kept the boy behind her, feeling him clench her jacket.

“What the fuck are you?!” She screamed, the growling turning into screeching.

Then the light in the shed gets brighter and brighter– Until everything suddenly stops.

Then…

There was no one left.

•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°

As soon as the sun touched his face, the boy reached over and shut his alarm clock off before it could even ring. Groaning and stretching, he was feeling extremely exhausted after being up so late (But last night was so fun, it was totally worth it!). Grinning a toothless grin, Dustin rolled out of bed, his clothes in hand as he strolls to the end of the hall for the bathroom. However–

He lets out a sigh and throws his head back at the door being closed. “Oh, my god. Phanie! I told you I needed to use the bathroom first on school days.” Seriously, how many times has he told his sister this? He doesn’t get a reply, and bangs on the door. “Phanie!! Are you listening?”

And on the last knock, to his surprise, the door creaked open. Being cautious, he poked his head inside finding the light was off and the room was unoccupied.

“Huh.” He said, looking around again. “Okay…” He quickly gets ready for the day, fixing his curls so his hat stays on, before adventuring back out. “Goodbye, sleepyhead!”

And once again, Dustin was shocked to find that now his sister’s room was unoccupied as well. The only thing present was their cat, Mews, who was curled up in a ball on the still perfectly made bed… with everything on it still looking the same in place.

What the? He thought, before heading for the kitchen where his mother was listening to the news.

// -And that’s it for News Center this morning. Thanks for joining us. Let’s hand off now to Liz at the news desk //

// All right, thank you, Donna. Turning now to local news, we’re getting reports of surges and power outages all across the county. Last night, hundreds of homes in East Hawkins were affected, leaving many residents in the dark. The cause of the outage is still unknown. We reached out to Roane County Water and Electric, and a spokesperson says that they are confident power will be restored to all remaining homes within the next– //

“Hey, mom, have you seen Stephanie?” He asked, ignoring the fact his mother was making him his favorite breakfast meal.

“Stephanie?” His mother, Claudia, asked as she slid him a plate. “No, I haven’t.”

“She’s not in her room.” He replies, taking a seat, thinking. “Did you see her come home last night?”

“Well, she did call me saying that she was going to be late, but I’ll admit, I dozed off before I heard her come in.” She notices her son’s worried expression, and smiles. “Oh, don’t worry, Dusty-buns. I’m sure she had to just pick up a friend for school. I can drive you.”

“No, I can bike, I just…” He trails off, not really hungry anymore. We always eat together.

•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°

Meanwhile, in another household. Joyce Byers was rummaging around her living room for her keys, cursing under her breath after every failed attempt.

“Where the hell are they?” She sighs. “Jonathan?”

“Check the couch!” Her oldest child said from the kitchen.

“Ugh, I did.” She moves the cushions around again, finally spotting them. “Oh, got them.” She smiles and comes over to give him a pat on the shoulder. “Okay, sweetie, I will see you tonight.”

“Yeah, see you later.” He says, finishing up the eggs.

“Where’s Will?”

“Oh, I didn’t get him up yet. He’s probably still sleeping.”

Joyce sighs, already leaving the room. “Jonathan, you have to make sure he’s up!”

“Mom, I’m making breakfast.”

“I told you this a thousand times. Will!” She claps her hands. “Come on, honey. It’s time to get up.” She pushes open his door only to find that his bed was empty. “He came home last night, right?”

Jonathan’s heart sank as he faced his mother. “He’s not in his room?

“Did he come home or not?”

“I don’t know.”

“You don’t know?”

“No. I-I got home late. I was working.”

She gives her son ‘the look’. “You were working?”

“Eric asked if I could cover. I said yeah. I just thought we could use the extra cash.”

“Jonathan, we’ve talked about this.”

He frowns, looking away. “I know…”

“You can’t take shifts when I’m working.” She says, wheels turning in her head at where he could be.

“Mom, it’s not a big deal.” He makes eye contact again. “Look, he was at the Wheelers’ all day. I’m sure he just stayed over.”

“I can’t believe you.” She says, already grabbing the phone. “I can’t believe you sometimes.” She starts dialing the phone number she knows by heart and waits.

[ ‘Hello?’ ]

“Hi, Karen. It’s Joyce.”

[ ‘Oh, Joyce, hi.’ ]

Before Joyce could ask, she hears a ruckus in the background.

[ ‘Quiet!’ ]

“Was that Will I heard back there?” She asked, hopefully.

[ ‘Will? No, no, no, it’s just Mike.’ ]

“Will didn’t spend the night?”

[ ‘No, he left here a little bit after 8:00. Why? He’s not home?’]

Joyce tries to keep the panic off her face as she replies, “Um, you know what? I think he just left early for... for school. Thank you so much.”

[ ‘Okay.’ ]

“Bye.”

[ ‘Bye.’ ]

Joyce hangs up the phone, exchanging concerned glances with her eldest child.

•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°

Three out of the four boys rode to school that morning, chattering away about a certain person that’ll only end in sadness. Frowning as they slowed down to their usual bike rack that laid empty before them.

“That’s weird. I don’t see him.” Mike said, noticing the absent bike. Did he park somewhere else this time?

“I’m telling you, his mom’s right.” Lucas said, trying to be the reasonable one. “He probably just went to class early again. You know he’s always paranoid that Gursky’s gonna give him another pop quiz.”

“That’s true.”

“Yeah… pop quiz...” Dustin mumbled, being completely distant from the group.

Lucas sighs, rolling his eyes. “Dude, you still worried about your sister?”

“Well, yeah! I mean, why was she not home? We always eat breakfast with each other, how could she just skip out on it?”

“She’s sixteen, you know? You’re just overreacting. I’m sure Steph is fine.”

“I don’t man, this ain’t like her.”

“Dustin–”

“Step right up, ladies and gentlemen!” A bully, named Troy, announced as he came over with another boy. “Step right up and get your tickets for the freak show.” He smirks. “Who do you think would make more money in a freak show?” He pushes Lucas first. “Midnight–” Then Mike. “Frogface–” Then Dustin. “Or Toothless?”

The other bully, James, looks pensive for a moment before making his decision with a point. “I’d go with Toothless.”

Dustin’s cheeks flush out of embarrassment. “I told you a million times, my teeth are coming in. It’s called cleidocranial dysplasia.”

“‘I told you a million times’.” James mocks, and laughs.

“Do the arm thing.” Troy pressures, as Dustin takes a small step back.

“Do it, freak!” Deciding to just comply, Dustin cracks his arms with his collar bone, making him and Troy groan and recoil. “God, it gets me every time.”

Then the two of them push through the boys as they leave for class; The trio sending them a death glare.

“Assholes.” Luca scoffed.

“I think it’s kinda cool.” Mike said, trying to cheer Dustin up. “It’s like you have superpowers or something. Like Mr. Fantastic.”

Dustin chuckles. “Yeah, except I can’t fight evil with it.”

•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°

Meanwhile, in the high school next door, Mike’s older sister was hustling inside, books in hand, acting all flustered. It especially didn’t help when her friend came over, grinning like the Chester Cat.

“So, did he call? The ginger girl, Barb, asked all giggly.

The sister, Nancy, shushes her looking around. “Keep your voice down.”

She nudges her with her elbow. “Did he?”

“I told you, it’s not like that.” Nancy blushes harder when Barb gave her a look. “Okay, I mean, yes, he likes me, but not like that. We just made out a couple times.

Barb raises an eyebrow. “‘We just made out a couple times’. Nance, seriously, you’re gonna be so cool now, it’s ridiculous.”

“No, I’m not.” She shakes her head while unlocking her locker.

“You better still hang out with me, that’s all I’m saying. If you become friends with Tommy H. or Carol–”

“Oh, that’s gross!”

“I’m just saying, you better still be friends with me. I heard that the King pushed a close friend out of his circle when he took the throne and–”

“Okay, I’m telling you, it was a one-time... two-time thing.”

She opens her locker, finding a note that read: MEET ME IN BATHROOM -STEVE.

Barb’s expression grew. “You were saying?”

•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°

Before you know it, Nancy is having a make out session with the highschool’s King, Steve “The Hair” Harrington. The cocky bad boy that every girl fawns over, and the physic that every guy envies. If you wanted any kind of popularity while running around this place, you had to make a guarantee that he would be in your corner.

“Steve.” Nancy croaked in between kisses, making him hum. “I have to go.”

“In a minute.” He mumbled, nibbling at her neck as the school bell rings.

“Steve–” She nudged her way out from him. “I really, like seriously, I have to go.”

“Wait, wait, wait. Let’s…” He snags her bag, keeping her in place for a second. “Come on, let’s do something tonight, yeah?”

“No, I can’t. I have to study for Kaminsky’s test.”

“Oh, come on. What’s your GPA again? 3.999–”

“Kaminsky’s tests are impossible.”

“Well, then, just let me help.” He said, smirking.

She rolls her eyes with a smile. “You failed chem.”

“C-minus.”

“Well, in that case–”

“So I’ll be over around, say, like, 8:00?”

“Are you crazy?” Nancy shakes her head. “My mom would not–”

“I’ll climb through your window.” He insisted, all pumped up at the idea. “She won’t even know I’m there. I’m stealthy, like a ninja.”

“You are crazy.” She says, taking her bag back and starts leaving.

“Wait, wait, wait. Just…” He steps in front of her. “Okay, forget about that. We can just– We can just, like, chill in my car. We can find a nice quiet place to park, and–”

“Steve, I have to study. I’m not kidding.”

“Well, why do you think I want it to be nice and quiet?”

That got her to crack another smile. “You’re an idiot, Steve Harrington.” She replies, stepping around him. “Meet me at Dearborn and Maple at 8:00. To study.”

The school bell rings again, leaving behind a very satisfied teen.

•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°

“Alright, class, I’ll be your sub for today.” The man explains, writing his name on the board. “I’m Mr. Dunwoody. If you have any questions, please refrain before I take attendance.” He ignores as some of the ‘cool kids’ snickered under their breaths and chuck paper balls around. “Uh, Barkley?”

“Here.”

“Brown?”

“Here.”

“Byers?” No reply. “Jonathan Byers?” He scopes the room, the seat in the back corner was absent. “No Byers. M’kay, uh, Davidson?”

“Present.”

“Evans?”

“Here.”

“Eubank?”

“Here.”

“Henderson.” No reply, he looks around – Yet another seat in the back unattended (And certain eyes following). “Henderson? Is a… Stephanie Henderson in?” His gaze shifts with the class’ and frowns. “No, okay. Uh, Harrington?” Silence. “Harrington?”

Steve blinks and faces forward, snapping out of his trace. “Uh, present.”

“‘Kay, uh–” He started shooting off more names, but the teenager wasn’t honestly listening. Something about that empty space (the space that seemed so far away now) didn’t sit right with him. And the gossiping in the background wasn’t helping his troubled mind either.

“Maybe grunge girl finally got the hint.”

“Oh, yeah. For sure.”

“Do you think the pressure made her drop out?”

“Drop out?” A laugh. “Maybe she took a dive off the overpass.”

“Guess we’ll have to check the news later for that!”

They laughed under their breaths and Steve’s hands started subconsciously squeezing his crossed arms. This shouldn’t bother him. It’s not like they’re–

He didn’t even realize he was turning around to say something if it was for Tommy’s hand snagging his shoulder. It, and he’s not sure if he can admit, hurt in a way he can’t describe. They both locked eyes, and Tommy shook his head ‘no’ just as the substitute finished calling out names, starting the soulless class.

•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°

As usual the town’s head sheriff was strolling into his job late and looking like he’d been hit by truck after truck. His five o’clock shadow was strong and so were the bags under his eyes; Jim Hopper walks in with a lit cigarette in his hand, the receptionist amazed by his appearance.

“Good of you to show.” She said, as he passed by and gave a small nod to the other officers present.

“Oh, hey, morning, Flo. Morning, everybody.” He says, heading for the small kitchenette to pour himself some coffee.

“Hey, Chief.” Powell greeted with a grin.

“Damn! You look like hell, Chief.” Callahan replies, looking up from his game of cards.

“Oh, yeah?” Hopper spares him a look.

“Yeah.”

“Well, I looked better than your wife when I left her this morning.” His response made his brothers bust a gut as the elderly woman came over, trying to get his attention.

“While you were drinking or sleeping, or whatever it is you deemed so necessary on Monday morning, Phil Larson called. Said some kids are stealing the gnomes out of his garden again.” Flo explains, as he tries not to roll his eyes (or maybe he did?).

“Oh, those garden gnomes again.” He sighs, and picks up a donut too. “Well, I’ll tell you what, I’m gonna get right on that.”

Flo keeps a straight face, used to his antics by now. “On a more pressing matter, Joyce Byers can’t find her son this morning.”

He hums after taking a bite of the pastry. “Okay, I’m gonna get on that.” He starts walking away. “Just give me a minute.”

“Joyce is very upset.” She pushes, as he shakes his head.

“Well, Flo– Flo, we’ve discussed this. Mornings are for coffee and contemplation.”

“Chief, she’s already in your–”

“Coffee and contemplation, Flo!” He shouts as he leaves the room, and, due to not paying attention, is surprised to see Ms. Byers already waiting in his office. His jaw clenched. “Okay… Missing? I’ve been told.”

“Yes, missing!” Joyce says, watching him sit down and start typewriting a file out for her boy. Worriedly she waits for him to finish, even smoking bud after bud to calm the jitters. “I have been waiting here over an hour, Hopper.”

“And I apologize.” He says, trying to calm her.

“I’m going out of my mind!”

“Look, boy his age, he’s probably just playing hooky, okay?”

She shakes her head. “No, not my Will. He’s not like that– He wouldn’t do that.”

“Well, you never know.” He suggests, a little smirk growing on his lips. “I mean, my mom thought I was on the debate team, when really I was just screwing Chrissy Carpenter in the back of my dad’s Oldsmobile, so–”

“Look, he’s not like you, Hopper. He’s not like me. He’s not like most.” She explains, her face saddening. “He has a couple of friends, but, you know, the kids, they’re mean. They make fun of him. They call him names. They laugh at him, his clothes–”

“His clothes?” Hopper’s eyebrows shoot up. “What’s wrong with his clothes?”

“I don’t know. Does that matter?”

“Maybe.”

Joyce inhales deeply. “Look, he’s... He’s a sensitive kid. Lonnie…” God she could punch that man right now. “Lonnie used to say he was queer. Called him a fag.”

Another eyebrow raise. “Is he?”

“He’s missing! Is what he is.”

“When was the last time you heard from Lonnie?”

“Uh, last I heard, he was in Indianapolis. That was about a year ago. But he has nothing to do with this.”

“Why don’t you give me his number?”

“You know, Hopper, he has nothing to do with this. Trust me.”

Hopper’s body straightens, hands coming to rest on his desk to make sure she was listening. “Joyce, 99 out of 100 times, kid goes missing, the kid is with a parent or relative.”

Her eyes widened. “What about the other time?”

He blinks. “What?”

“You said, ‘99 out of 100’. What about the other time, the one?”

“Joyce.”

“The one!”

Hopper tries to deescalate again. “Joyce, this is Hawkins, okay? You wanna know the worst thing that’s ever happened here in the four years I’ve been working here?” He could hold back a small smile. “Do you wanna know the worst thing? It was when an owl attacked Eleanor Gillespie’s head because it thought that her hair was a nest.”

Joyce sighs. “Okay, fine. I will call Lonnie. He will talk to me before he talks to–”

“What, a pig?”

“A cop! Just find my son, Hop. Find him!”

And then came a knock on the doorframe, which happened to be Flo who looked apologetic this time.

“Chief, I’m sorry, I have another hectic parent. A Ms. Claudia Henderson is here to see you.”

“What?” Hopper said, and just before he could blink, a blonde woman came stumbling in, all nervous just like someone else in present.

“Hopper, I’m sorry if you’re busy, but–”

“Claudia?” Joyce said, standing up with surprise.

“Joyce?” Claudia’s face washes over with relief upon seeing her. “What brings you here?”

“It’s Will, I can’t find him.” She says, missing the way the other woman’s face lost all color. “And apparently he didn’t go to school either.”

“Well, what a coincidence. I can’t find my daughter, either.”

And then all eyes are now on the police Chief who was dumbfounded this was all happening at once. After a moment, he sighed and pulled Will’s form out of the typewriter before sliding in a new piece of paper.

“Alright.” He gestures to the chair. “Let’s hear your story.”

•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°

And then that’s how the police chief found himself at a middle school. His first “suspects” in this case was Will’s inner circle of friends. But what he wasn’t expecting while sitting in the principal’s office was the trio to be talking over one another frantically.

“Okay, okay, okay.” Hopper says, waving for them to stop which they did. “One at a time, all right?” He points to Mike. “You. You said he takes what?”

“Mirkwood.” Mike said, confusing him.

“Mirkwood?”

“Yeah.”

Hopper sighs, looking at his partner. “Have you ever heard of Mirkwood?”

“I have not.” Callahan shakes his head. “That sounds made up to me.”

“No, it’s from Lord of the Rings.” Lucas says, offended.

“Well, The Hobbit.” Dustin pushes as his friend rolls his eyes.

“Who cares?”

“He asked!”

“‘He asked’!” Lucas mocked which started their bickering again.

“Hey, hey, hey!” Hopper yells, getting to stop once more. “What’d I just say? One at a damn time.” He points to Mike again. “You.”

“Mirkwood, it’s a real road. It’s just the name that’s made up. It’s where Cornwallis and Kerley meet.” Mike explains, giving the Chief a picture now.

“Yeah, all right, I think I know that.”

“We can show you, if you want.” The boy replies, his friends agreeing with him immediately.

Hopper shakes his head. “I said that I know it!”

“We can help look.” Mike pleads.

“Yeah.” Dustin encouraged.

“No.” The boys try to protest, but he shuts it down again. “No. After school, you are all to go home. Immediately. That means no biking around looking for your friend, no investigating, no nonsense. This isn’t some Lord of the Rings book.”

“The Hobbit.” Dustin mumbles, quietly.

“Shut up!” Lucas said, elbowing him.

“Hey!”

“Stop it!” Hopper snaps, while standing up. “Do I make myself clear?” He gets no answer. “Do I make myself clear?”

Mike nods. “Yes, sir.”

“Good.” He faces the principal. “Sir, thank you for your time.”

“Wait!” Dustin cuts in, and makes the man groan.

“What?”

“What about my sister? You mentioned her earlier. What about her?”

“Kid, listen, your sister’s sixteen, and to be honest, I believe a teenager playing hooky more than your friend Will. Okay?” Hopper tried to leave again, but the kid wasn’t letting up.

“But Stephanie’s not like that! I mean, yeah, she doesn’t necessarily like school, but she always studies hard to get good grades. She’s a good noodle.” Dustin frowns worriedly. “Trust me, she would never skip school. I mean… did you even check the parking lot to see if her car was there? Or the mall that she works at?”

I guess… the kid did have a point, Hopper will admit that one. He locks eyes with his partner who shrugs.

“I mean, we might as well kill two birds with one stone while we’re here.” Callahan says, truthfully.

“Yeah, you’re right.” Hopper sighs. “Okay. So Dustin, did your sister have any… friends we could talk to?” Then they got quiet, looking amongst themselves. “What? No? She didn’t? Or–?”

“Well, not really.” Dustin admits, bittersweet. “I mean, she probably hangs out with us more than anything at this point.”

“I mean, she’s friends with that douchebag Steve.” Lucas said, upset.

“Was friends. Not anymore.” Mike clarifies.

“Was a friend?” Hopper asked, skeptical. “What happened?”

“Not sure. They were inseparable until one day they just… weren’t.” Dustin replies, which was the truth. He remembers seeing Steve around a few times as he grew up, but then one day his sister stopped going out and didn’t even mention him anymore. Then before he knew it, he witnessed first hand the boy’s ‘asshole’ attitude (Makes him glad that she wasn’t around him anymore).

“Okay, then. What’s his name?”

•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°

“Steve Harrington.”

Steve stopped himself from getting into his BMW to look who was calling him out. To his shock he found two police officers in his presence, and immediately felt sick.

“Um, can I help you, officers?” He asked, paying no heed to the passing stares from other students.

“I’m officer Hopper, this is my partner Callahan. We just want to ask you a few questions.” Hopper explains, as the teenager nods.

“Am I in trouble?”

“No, son. As long as you comply.”

“Okay.”

“Alright then, do you know a girl by the name of Stephanie Henderson?”

His heart sank again like earlier. “Stephanie?” Steve asked, his throat feeling tight (Why was his throat closing up?).

“Yeah. We were told by her brother that you guys used to be friends. Is that true?”

“Yeah, that’s true.”

“Have you spoken to her recently? Seen her?” Hopper asked, getting a shake of his head.

“Seen her? Yeah, I mean I see her everyday, we’re in the same classes, but I didn’t see her today.” Steve shifts his weight around on his feet. “As for talking, I haven’t spoken to her in years.”

“So you haven’t had any real contact with her?”

“No, sir.” Steve watches the two adults exchange glances which pique his interest. “May I ask what’s going on with her? Is she in trouble?”

“Not necessarily trouble, I would say. Her mom came down by the station earlier and reported her missing, saying she didn’t see her in the morning and when they called the school she wasn’t there.”

“If I’m being honest, son, she’s a teenager, she probably just wanted some time alone.” Callahan replies, with a half shrug. “Besides, everyone knows her mother’s a bit… out there. She tends to overreact.”

“There’s nothing for you to worry about, Mr. Harrington. We appreciate your time.” Hopper replies, bidding him a farewell as he begins to leave (but this wasn’t sitting right with the boy’s stomach).

“She never misses her classes though.” Steve blurts out, getting their attention. “Even now, even if we aren’t friends, I notice she never misses school. It’s completely out of her character.”

It really is though. Steve waited until the officers processed his comment, before nodding.

“Noted.” Was all Hopper said and they left, leaving him high and dry, wondering what was truly going on. He was so stuck in his head he didn’t even notice Tommy and Carol making their way towards him.

“Oooh, looks like someone’s in trouble.” Tommy coos, with a grin.

“What did you do, Harrington? Slash Tammy Thompson’s tires finally?” Carol asked, making herself laugh.

But Steve didn’t find this funny, instead his attention was turned back to climbing in the passenger seat. “I gotta go home.”

“What?” Tommy said, caught off guard.

“I gotta go home.”

“What? But you said we were going to the movies?”

“Maybe tomorrow I–” He couldn’t even think straight. “I’m sorry. I’ll see you tomorrow.” He shuts his car door as his name is being called, and quickly pulls away.

•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°

Along the Mirkwood road, the three officers were paneling out, surveying the area. Everyone was shouting Will’s name, except Hopper who nerves were shooting through the roof; So much so, he had to stop and pop a pill. These kinds of situations, especially evolving children, were hard for him to deal with. It reminded him too much of his own–

Wait a minute. Were his eyes deceiving him? Does actually see this or was this another one of his episodes?

But after triple checking, he finally calls the others forward. “Hey! I think I got something.”

He steps off the room, jogging a few feet into the woods. If it wasn’t for the daylight, he surely would have missed a huge clue that was being covered by a few shrubs and ankle deep piles of autumn leaves. Smashed into one of the sweet gum trees was a car, windshield cracked and lightly powdered in stray branches.

“I don’t remember hearing anything about crashes this morning.” Powell said, confused as he examined it.

Hopper’s keen eyes also caught something lying in the backseat and pulled it out. He frowns, his nerves spiking again. “This is Will’s bike.”

“His bike?” Powell asked, suspicious now. “You don’t think this was uh… a kidnapping?”

“It’s possible. But it doesn’t explain why the kidnapper would crash and abandon the car. Then leave evidence of the child behind.”

“Now, what a second.” Callahan said, perking up. “This is a 1975 Tan Ford Granada, the same car that Ms. Henderson said her daughter drives.”

Hopper’s eyes widen as he sets the bike down. “She also said that her daughter had a Journey keychain.” He opens the driver door, and sure enough, still in the dead ignition, there was a little band keychain dangling off her car key. “Shit.” He locks eyes with his partners. “Which way is the mall?”

Powell pointed in the direction that he feared the most. It was in the same direction the Byers’ house was. Now it was starting to make sense.

“What are you thinking, Chief?”

Hopper frowns. “Well, if you look at the bike, the chain’s broken. My guess, Stephanie was driving by and saw him on the side of the road, and offered him a ride home.”

“Then how do you explain the car being off road?”

He sighs, dreading for the answer (both in a good and a bad way). “I’m not sure.”

•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°

Saying Joyce Byers was livid was probably not a strong enough word after being hung up on so many times. Why, out of the times she actually needed to talk to her ex-husband, he doesn’t answer the phone?! She could pull all her hair out from that man. No wonder they were divorced since he frustrates her so–

“Mom?” Jonathan said, standing up from the couch (He was currently making missing child signs for his brother).

“What?”

“Cops.” Sure enough, they saw many cop cars pull up, including a tow truck with a car none of them recognize.

“Is that his bike?” Joyce said, worriedly once she was outside. “And who’s car is that?”

“We found this in Stephanie Henderson’s car.” Hopper replies, sitting the bike down.

“Stephanie’s car?” Jonathan said, surprised. Well, I guess he shouldn’t be that surprise, ‘cause although they’re not exactly friends as one thinks they might be, given the situation, he knows her enough that she’s the type of girl to give you the shirt off her back if you need it.

“Our best guess right now is that she saw him on the side of the road and offered to drive him back. It makes sense since her mother told us Stephanie called to let her know she’ll be running late from work. And given the time stamp Will’s friends provided us, them crossing paths match up.”

“But that still doesn’t explain everything!” Joyce says, trying to piece this together. “Where did you find her car?”

He sighs quietly. “Down off the road, into the forest.” He starts walking away, motioning for his men to follow him. “Split up, fellas.” He said, once they were inside.

“Did it have any blood on it? Or– or what was the condition of the car? Did it slide off the road?” Joyce asked as she followed him around. “And why are you here instead of looking?”

“Well, he had a key to the house, right?”

“Yeah.”

“So maybe he came home. Maybe they both came home.”

Joyce scoffs, stepping in front of him. “You think I didn’t check my own house?”

“I’m not saying that.” He says, eyes trailing away upon catching something else. “Has this always been here?” He walked over and pointed to an indent in the wall.

“What? I don’t know. Probably. I mean, I have two boys. Look at this place.”

He suddenly opens the door to the backyard, the doorknob trailing directly to the spot of the mini hole. “You’re not sure?” He’s about to question it some more when the dog suddenly starts barking. He heads outside, finding Chester angrily staring down the shed. “Hey, what’s up with this guy, huh?”

“Nothing, he’s probably just hungry.” Joyce said, after following him out. She sighs and drags the dog by the collar. “Come on.”

But as they left, Hopper’s gaze was focused on the shed. Why was the dog so wound up from that place? Treading carefully, he goes inside, flipping the lightswitch on that buzzed lightly above. His eyes scaled the room, immediately noticing something. His fingers wrapped around the box full of shotgun shells, realizing it was half empty.

Empty? He thought, setting it down and heading for where the weapon would be stored. But the two hooks screwed into the wall were bare, and to a shock, when his fingers brushed where it should be, the light suddenly shut itself off.

Out of instinct his hand latched around a flashlight nearby, turning it on. He turned the light towards the door, wondering if someone was just screwing with him but… no one.

Okay… not creepy at all. He trailed it around, looking closely, nothing making him want to stand on his toes until he decided to turn around. That’s when he saw the back half of the shed was a mess, shelves torn off, boxes and objects thrown everywhere, some even being crushed under some kind of weight. Even the hair on the back of his neck stood up when he swears he could hear someone growling.

His heart was beating in his ears as he crouched down, looking around for anything. (Un)Luckily enough, there was no kid laying emotionless in the pile. He frowns, wondering what scared the boy so much that he went to grab a gun. And then–

Something shiny caught his eye.

He reached out and picked it up, a gold chain unraveled, showing off a heart shaped pendant with two initials carved into it.

S.H.

“Shit.” Hopper whispered, horrified.

“Hey!”

He shot to his feet, turning around to face his brother in blue. “Jesus!”

“What are you, deaf? I’ve been calling you.” Callahan said, before noticing how ill his boss looked. “What’s going on?”

“Fuck…” Hopper mumbled and started racing back outside.

“Are you sure you’re okay, Chief?”

“Listen, I want you to call Flo. I want to get a search party together, all right? All the volunteers she can muster. Bring flashlights, too.”

“Chief?” Callahan stops him before he goes back into the house. “Hey, you think we got a problem here?”

“I don’t think, I know.” Hopper shows off the necklace. “We’re going to the Henderson’s house.”

•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°

Dustin watches with fear as the officers explain the situation on hand about his older sister. His mom of course was hysterical, giving the professionals a challenge to get answers out of her.

“Oh, who could have hurt my baby? And poor Will too.” Claudia sobbed into her handkerchief. “She’s always so kind to others, of course she would have offered him a ride.”

“Ma’am, I know you’re upset, and we’re sending a search party out as soon as possible. But I just need you to confirm that this is your daughter’s, then we can make this one big old case.” Hoppy explains, trying not to be snappy with his words. “Now–” He shows off the necklace. “Is this your daughter’s?”

Dustin’s eyebrows shot up through the roof. “She still wears that?!” He said, shocking both himself and the officer.

“What?”

“Y-Yes.” Claudia said, nodding. “That’s hers.”

“Thank you.” Hopper says, placing it in her palm. He spins his heels around to Powell. “Let’s go. We got two missing people we’re looking for.”

“Please find her.” She begged, getting his attention once more. “I can’t lose my only daughter.” But all she gets is a sad nod from him as he leaves, watching as all the cars pull off her driveway in a hurry. She sighs and then gasps when felt her son take the necklace away from her, studying it intensely. “Dusty, why were you so surprised she still wears it?”

“Don’t you remember who gave this to her?” He asked, slightly sour.

“Well, no.”

He sighs, and starts leaving the room. “It’s nothing.”

And it should stay that way.

•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°

Meanwhile, later in the day, a heated discussion was going on at the Wheeler’s house over a nice homemade dinner.

“We should be out there right now. We should be helping look for him.” Mike said for the millionth time tonight, extremely close to igniting the fuse in his own mother.

“We’ve been over this, Mike.” Karen said, drawing her attention away from her toddler. “The chief says–”

“I don’t care what the chief said.”

“Michael!”

“We have to do something! Will can be in danger.”

“More reason to stay put.”

“Mom!”

“End of discussion.” She snapped, silencing her son. But when one bird stops chirping, another one decides to start a tune.

“So me and Barbara are gonna study at her house tonight. That’s cool, right?” Nancy says, not an ask, but that of course gets shot down too.

“No, not cool.”

“What? Why not?”

“Why do you think? Am I speaking Chinese in this house? Until we know Will is okay, no one leaves.”

“This is such bullshit.” Nancy replies, dropping her fork.

“Language.” Ted chimes in, still munching on his food.

“So we’re under house arrest? Just because Mike’s friend got lost on the way home from–”

“Wait, this is Will’s fault?” Mike spat, sending daggers at his sister.

“Nancy, take that back.” Karen warned, as Holly started to get teary eyed.

“No!” Nancy scoffed.

“You’re just pissed off ‘cause you wanna hang out with Steve.” Mike quips, sending the whole room into silence. He swallows when he realizes he messed up (and how his sister looked like she was going to kill him).

“Steve?” Her father asked, finally tuning back in.

“Who is Steve?” Her mother asked, as her son decided to just roll with it anyway.

“Her new boyfriend.”

“You are such a douchebag, Mike!” Nancy yells, throwing the chair back and marching out of the room.

“Language!” Ted says, as Karen sighs.

“Nancy, come back. Come back!” She shakes her head, and cups her youngest cheek. “It’s okay. It’s okay, Holly.” She holds up her sippy cup. “Here, have some juice, okay?”

“You see, Michael? You see what happens?”

“What happens when what?” Mike snaps again, still in disbelief. “I’m the only one acting normal here! I’m the only one that cares about Will!”

“That is really unfair, son. We care.” And now his words drove his son away from the dinner table.

“Mike!” Karen yells after him too.

“Let him go.” Ted encourages, as his wife picks up their child.

“I hope you’re enjoying your chicken, Ted.” She says, then leaves herself.

“What did I do?” He notices he is truly alone now. “What’d I do?”

•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°

Dustin was sitting on his bed, holding his sister’s necklace in his palm. It was a gold color chain with a dark red heart shaped guitar pick. It even had her initials scratched into it. Such a beautiful and expensive gift. However, he still wonders why she even still wears it. Especially since it was gifted by none of other then–

[ ‘Dustin, do you copy? It’s Lucas.’ ]

He perked up from the voice of his friend coming through on his walkie, and scrambled off the bed to his desk. “Lucas. What’s up?”

[ ‘Mike just called me. Says he wants to go out looking for Will.’ ]

“Looking for Will?” He gasps at how perfect this was. “We can look for Phanie too!”

[ ‘Steph? You mean she hasn’t come home yet?’ ]

“No! That’s what I’ve been saying!” Why don’t his friends listen to him sometimes? “So she’s out there, we have to go find her as well!”

[ ‘I mean, we can. But we’re biking over where Will was last–’ ]

“Oh, no. I got that! But…” Dustin frowns. “Wait. You didn’t hear?”

[ ‘Hear what?’ ]

“Oh, my god– Okay! Well, long story short, my sister wasn’t playing hooky like everyone thought.”

[ ‘What do you mean?’ ]

“According to the police, Phanie apparently gave Will a ride home before somewhere along the way, her car ended up in the woods. They found his bike in her car, and even found her necklace at his home. So, Lucas, my sister was with Will! It’s not just Will who’s missing! My sister is too! Together!”

He thought might have exploded his friend’s brain after the long silence he was given.

[ ‘Oh shit…’ ]

“Yeah!”

[ ‘We have to tell Mike this when we meet up. Don’t worry, man, we’ll find her too.’ ]

“And I have faith in us.” Dustin peeks outside his door. “My mom’s watching her shows right now to keep herself distracted. So we have a few hours.”

[ ‘Perfect. See you in ten.’ ]

“See you in ten.” He puts down the antenna, clenching the necklace in his palm. “Don’t worry, sis, we’re going to find you too.”

•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°

[ ‘I’m sorry.’ ]

He heard her apologize for the millionth time while over the phone. He can imagine her cute little face full of irritation (was that reason to be in love with a person?).

[ ‘My… dumb mother has me under house arrest until morning.’ ]

“Don’t sweat it, Nance.” He said, leaning against the wall while they talked. “You know… I could always be sneaky like a ninja and–”

[ ‘No, Steve. You know what my parents would do if they caught you?’ ]

He hums. “Um, congratulate me?”

[ ‘Steve.’ ]

Steve laughs. “Alright, alright. I’m joking. Uh–” He runs a hand through his locks. “We could… study over the phone?”

That was a good idea.

Right?

Her silence was making him worry. “Um, Nancy?”

[ ‘Sorry. I was thinking. It’s a tempting offer but… risky. I don’t want my parents eavesdropping.’ ]

“Do they tend to eavesdrop?”

[ ‘Steve!’ ]

“Alright, I’ll stop.”

[ ‘We’ll just see each other tomorrow.’ ]

“Of course we will.” He smiles. “As long as uh… the search for that Byers boy isn’t still going on. Heard they’re grabbing everyone in town.”

[ ‘Yeah. Well, it’s not just for him, l mean they’re looking for the Henderson girl too.’ ]

And there it is again.

The horrible, aching feeling in the pit of his stomach.

“S-Stephanie?” The air got trapped in his lungs (Why was it so hard to breathe?). “I thought Will just went missing?” It was just him, right? There’s no way she went missing too. And at the same time no less. “Right, Nancy?”

[ ‘No. From what it sounds like on the news I just overheard, she gave him a ride home, but her car was found abandoned with his bike in it. So… as of now, we have two people missing.’ ]

Stephanie’s really missing? Once again he’s asking himself that it shouldn’t hurt this much, right? It’s not like they’ve been acquitted in years, so–

[ ‘Steve? You there?’ ]

“Uh, um, N-Nancy I… I think I hear my parents. I… I-I got to go.” He said, slurring his words and could practically feel the strange look she was probably giving him right now.

[ ‘You okay?’ ]

“Y-Yeah. I’m… I’m good, I– I think it’s time for dinner.”

[ ‘Isn’t it kind of late for dinner now?’ ]

“Oh, you know, we Harringtons like to have it late. So, uh, pfff– I’ll see you at school tomorrow. Have fun studying.”

[ ‘Steve–’ ]

He hangs up the phone before she questions him anymore.

It just doesn’t make sense. They’re not friends any more so…

Why does it hurt so much?

•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°

The rain was coming down like a monsoon. Thunder was starting to rumble, lightning was lingering around waiting to strike. Speaking of waiting… The Byers were on their couch, rummaging through photos that touched their emotions.

“Jonathan, wow. You took these?” Joyce asked, amazed by them. “These are great.” She got her son to crack a smile. “Wow, they really are.” Then came the sniffles again. “I-I know I haven’t been there for you. I’ve been working so hard and… I-I just feel bad. I don’t even barely know what’s going on with you. All right? I am so sorry about that.” And then the sobs started coming from her child. “Hey, what is it? What is it, honey?”

He shakes his head. “Nothing.”

“Tell me. Tell me.” Joyce urges, rubbing his forearm. “Come on. You can–”

“No. It’s just…” Jonathan’s blank expression broke. “I s-should’ve been there for him.”

“No. Oh, no. You can’t do that to yourself.” She shakes her own head and gives him a gentle squeeze. “This was not your fault. Do you hear me? He is… close. I know it. I-I feel it in my heart.” She clenches the left side of her chest. “You just have to… You have to trust me on this, okay?”

He nods while leaning into his mother’s touch. “Yeah.”

“Oh, look at this.” She says, picking one where it was just Will and his cute smile. “Look at this one.” It makes them both quietly laugh. “I mean, that’s it, right?”

“Yeah. That’s it.” He smiles sadly. “W-We should… see if Ms. Henderson had any photos of Stephanie. Maybe we can make a poster together.”

Then her whole world gets thrown around when she hears breathing. “Will?” She chokes, eyes widening. “Will? It’s Will!”

“That’s a good idea.” And the phone rings and she shoots off the couch. She prays and prays it’s good news as she yanks the phone off the receiver. “Hello?” She answers, which happened to be nothing but static.

“Hello? Lonnie? Hopper? Who is this?”

Jonathan was by her side in a split second. “Mom, it’s Will?”

“Who is this?!” Joyce screamed when growling came on the other side. “What have you done to my boy? Give me back my son!” And whoever was truly on the other side, replied by shocking her with electricity. She shrieked and threw the phone away, her son picking it up right after.

“Hello? Hello, who is this?” Jonathan asked, the silence making him furiously hit the phone box. “Hello? Who is this?” He finally hangs up, turning towards his hysterical mother. “Mom, who was it? Who was it, Mom?”

“It was him.” She sobbed, as she was taken in his arms.

“Look at me, was it Will?”

“Yes!”

“What did he say?” Jonathan choked, as his mother reached for the phone, hoping they were still connected.

“He just breathed. He just breathed.”

“And was someone else there?”

“I–”

“Mom, who was there? Who was it?”

“It was him…” She wraps her arms around him, knees almost buckling at the emotional exhaustion. “I know it was his breathing. I know it was his breathing.”

•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°

Meanwhile, in the deep depths of the forest, drenched head to toe, the trio was shouting until their lungs hurt, hoping to find any one of their loved ones.

“Will!”

“Stephanie!”

“Byers! Henderson!”

“Anyone?!”

Lucas sighs. “Guys, I’m starting to feel like this is hopeless.”

“Don’t be a big sissy.” Dustin says, getting ‘the look’.

“I’m just being realistic, man.”

“Well, stop being realistic! My sister and Will are missing, and they’re fine.” They have to be. He doesn’t know what he’ll do if they’re–

“Maybe…”

“Lucas!” Mike scolded, getting a shrug.

“What?” Lucas snapped. “I’m just saying. I mean, did any of you ever think Will and Steph went missing because they ran into something bad? And we happened to be going to the exact same spot where they were last seen? And we have no weapons or anything?”

“So?!” Dustin scoffed. “If it was any of us in their place, my sister and Will would be busting their asses trying to find us!”

“Really? How would you know that?”

“I just do!”

“Shut up!” Mike yells, facing them. Their jaws closed and he shushed them quietly. “Shut up and listen.” And then there was a faint sound of rustling. “Do you guys hear that?”

And then the rustling got louder and louder, the boys spinning on their heels and waving their flashlights around for any signs of life. Just as thunder roared and the spotlights moved to another side, that’s when they were practically blinding a person.

Although it was not Will or Stephanie.

It was another child, barefoot and in a shirt that was practically a dress.

Staring in amazed and confusion, the boys weren’t sure what to say except,

“What the hell?”

•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°

|| THE NIGHT BEFORE ||

The lights flickered back on with an audible gasp.

She heaved the strange tasting air into her lungs, eyes adjusting to the bright world before it completely went dim, like an eclipse was happening just overhead. Before she could question where she was, she felt someone tug on her jacket and gasp themself.

Stephanie whipped her body around, catching the sight of the young boy who was now having a bit of coughing fit. “Will?” She says, taking the boy by his shoulders, relieved to see him.

“S-Steph?” He choked, taking a moment to look around with his big cocoa eyes. “What just happened?”

Well that was the million dollar question. What actually happened?

She takes a moment to finally look around herself, realizing they were in the… same spot? Yeah… the same spot. They were still inside the shed, still holding the shotgun, but the only difference was no… what can you even call that thing they encountered?

“We’re still in the shed. But it’s…” Will crinkled his button nose at the sight. “Gross.”

Steph swallows, blue orbs landing on the door. “Stay behind me.” She lets herself push open the shed door slowly, heart beating like crazy as she luckily met with no scary creature. She shivered at the sudden drop in temperature. “Jesus, It’s freezing.”

The outside world seemed to be encased in a blue hue, the places around seemed to be tangled with vines and covered in something sticky. There was also a white powder that looked like snow, raining down from the dark skies above. A sky that didn’t even have moonlight like it did a few minutes ago.

Holy shit… She thought, before feeling around her head, worriedly. She then locked eyes with him and asked, “Did you hit your head when we crashed?” He shakes his head, fueling her emotions. So they weren’t dreaming or having a concussion. So what even is this place?

Where the hell are we? And in the distance…

A creature snarled…

While waiting for his orders from his master beyond.

(TBC)

A/N: 😬🤭🫣

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