#I have consumed so so so many painkillers | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

d10nyx · 3 months

Text

meant to be yours

ft. leon kennedy x fem!reader

cw: 18+ content, dead dove, unwilling cannibalism - reciever doesn't know! self-mutilation. obsessive, creepy, delusional reader. no real sex but masturbation n fantasies. very little smut and also a lil vomit.

a/n: idk why, but i... could not get this out of my head. been writing this the past few hours n it's now 1am... all i'm gonna say is read at your own discretion

word count: 1.9k words

There wasn't much good in your life. Not really. You'd never been one to talk much. No family, no friends. You spent most of your life working, dropping out of school, and saving money from a young age in order to pursue your one true passion - baking.

Opening up your own shop was hard. You went hungry most nights in order to skim a little cash from your dead-end job to be able to afford the down payment. But it worked. You had your own bakery, and business was booming.

For once in your life, you felt happy.

The day Leon came into the bakery for the first time changed everything. A festering desire found its way into your mind, an itch that wouldn't leave. He was your soul mate, you knew it. He was the sweetest thing you'd ever seen. So pure and untouched.

He made your skin crawl. You needed to be closer to him, to corrupt him in a way that no one would ever come close to you. You needed to be his, mind, body and soul. His smile made you nauseous. How many others had received that same smile?

No. You had to have him in a way no one else could.

You started experimenting. Simple things, really. Your love for him was all consuming, and you're sure in time he'd come to understand how much you worshipped him. He'd be appreciative of all you'd done for him once he found out.

It made it all worth it as you carved into your flesh for the first time. Your teeth clamped down on an old leather belt of yours to stiffle your screams, a piece of fabric tied tight around your thigh to slow the bleeding as you cut chunks of your flesh out.

The pain almost made you pass out, but you wouldn't let your weakness get in the way of showing devotion to Leon. You swallowed your bile as it rose up your throat, blinked past the blurriness of your tears.

You did your best to treat the wounds efficiently after. YouTube can only teach you so much, and your hands wouldn't stop shaking, so you couldn't wrap the bandage as tight as you should have. But that was okay. You couldn't go to the hospital, couldn't risk someone stopping your plan.

You swallowed some painkillers and went to bed, content with the knowledge that tomorrow was Saturday. That meant Leon would be coming. You had something really special for him.

You wake up with a hop in your step the next morning despite the excruciating pain you were in. You down more painkillers and pop the pack in your pocket, although it does little to dull your pain.

You grind the carefully harvested flesh down. You had already made the dough which had expanded nicely. This would have to be your best work, after all. You carefully lay out the necessary ingredients, combining them before placing the filling neatly into the dough.

You gather up the edges of the disc you'd made, folding them over the seasoned flesh and tucking them in to form a nice ball. You smile at yourself, feeling like you deserved a pat on the back. Once the egg wash is on, you place them into the oven and glance at the clock.

Perfect timing.

You smile and set up the rest of the bakery for opening. Once the buns are cooked, you take them out and place them in the back. You greet all the customers as friendly as always despite the burning in your thigh and the obsession making itself known in the forefront of your brain.

The closer it gets to Leon's usual entrance time, the more antsy you get. You can't keep still, shifting your weight between your feet as it becomes increasingly more difficult not to snap at every customer that walks in. They were all wasting your time.

Your eyes flick over to the clock on your wall constantly. The quiet ticking makes your eyes twitch and keeps your nerves on edge. You want to rip the clock from the wall and-

“Hey.” Your head snaps to the door. A smile makes its way to your face as you relax. Finally. You lean on the counter, your gaze trailing Leon's face appreciatively.

“Leon. Hi.” You breathe out, all the tension seeping out of your muscles. He makes all the pain you endured worth it, just to see his smile. “The usual?”

He nods softly, and you get to work packing his order. He likes to treat himself to a slice of cake and a pastry at the end of the week. It's the cutest thing ever to you, and you always like to throw in an extra little snack. On the house, of course.

“Hey, I tried something new today. Saved some for my favourite customer. Want to try it?” The festering in your mind returns tenfold. You didn't know what you'd do if he didn't accept. Your mind was screaming at you, wanting nothing more than to see him eat your flesh. To become one with you.

Please. Your mind supplies, your breathing growing shallow as you wait for his reply. The seconds feel like they stretch into hours, your nails digging into your palms and leaving little crescent shaped marks in the flesh.

“Sure! What did you make?” He asks, sweet as ever. The air you suck in after that satisfies your whole body, like the first breath of air after you'd been drowning. Your lungs stop burning, your mind stops screaming.

“I'm trying out some more savoury stuff. Trying to broaden my horizons, you know?” You say with a chuckle, stepping back to retrieve the tray. “I made some pork buns. Saved them just for you. They're all yours, if you like them.”

He lets out a laugh himself, eyes examining the food in front of him. “You're too good to me. These look amazing.”

Take one. Please. Just one.

“Ah, it's nothing.” You say causally, your eyes locked on his hands as they reach out for one of the buns. Your heart beats faster, feeling like it's about to break free past the cage of your ribs. “You're an officer. Just giving back.”

“Oh, is that what it is?” He says with an amused smile, finally picking up one of them.

Yesyesyesyes. Just a little longer.

It takes every ounce of willpower in you not to make a noise as he takes a bite. It's even harder to keep a neutral expression as he chews it, his eyes widening slightly. He swallows the bite, looks at you and grins. You lean forward, watching with morbid curiosity as his Adam's apple bobs, picturing the chunks of your flesh sliding down his throat.

“Wow! These are, like… really good. You should definitely start selling them.” He compliments, taking another bite. You watch him finish up the bun with increasing interest, your eyes practically sparkling with joy and your pussy throbbing with need.

“That's, um…” Your words come out shaky, so you clear your throat and try again. “Thank you. That means a lot. I'm really glad you liked it.”

“Did you need anything else today? Or is that all?” You ask politely, your hands idly brushing the edge of the counter - desperate for something, anything to ground you as you wait for his response. The anticipation was enough to drive you mad with desire, but you had to stay composed.

If only Leon could understand how much you truly wanted him. How much you needed him to see you, to really see you, not just look at you. What you'd do for him to touch you. Consume you. Become one with you.

“No, no. I think that's it.” He says with a head tilt, not looking unlike a puppy in that moment. You want to keep him in a little room, safe from the cruelty in the world. Maybe a cute little display case you dust off every day.

“Alright, no problem, then.” You say as you start to ring up his order, telling him the price and taking the money. “Let me just wrap these up, and you can be on your way.”

With practised ease, you quickly wrapped the ordered items in paper, making sure the wrapping is secure. Once done, you carefully place them into a brown paper bag, double checking everything was intact. Reaching out, you held it out towards Leon, a kind smile on your face as you tried to ignore the aggressive beating of your heart. Your hand shook slightly, yearning for contact. For just a tiny moment of skin on skin. "Here you go.”

“Thank you so much! I'll see you next week.” He tells you as he reaches for the bag, his fingers brushing yours lightly as he takes it, getting ready to leave the bakery.

"Have a wonderful day." You reply, your voice breaking slightly as you watch him walk away. Your eyes follow his form disappearing down the street until he was out of sight before you let out a ragged breath, collapsing against the counter. Today had been... too close. Too much contact. You needed to calm down.

✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦

Your mind wanders for the rest of the day, thinking about how satisfying it would be when you were finally his. You'd get him to accept your gifts with open arms. How could he not love you when he'd realised how much you'd sacrificed for him?

You wanted him to dip his tongue in your wounds, to thank you properly for the pain you'd sustained for him. You'd worship every inch of his body, give everything you'd had to him.

Oh, how good it would feel when he sunk his cock into you for the first time. You'd be perfect for him, open up so easily for him. You'd take every inch without complaint, let him fuck you as often as he wanted.

Maybe he'd sink his teeth directly into your neck when he realised how much he craved your flesh. You'd make him crave another taste. The thought made you shiver, arousal pooling into the gusset of your panties, making the fabric stick to you.

You closed up early to return to your apartment. You find your bed instantly, flopping down and stripping within seconds. You shove two fingers deep into your cunt as you pictured Leon fucking you. The sloppy wet noises fill your room as your moans echo off the empty walls.

Your free hand shifts to the wound on your thigh, and you press down harshly. You scream in pain, nausea hitting you instantly at the agonising pain. It's enough to make you cum, your pussy gushing around your fingers. You lean over the edge of the bed, throwing up onto the hardwood floor. You'd deal with it later.

You curl up into a ball, breathing heavily through tears and mucus as the burning sensation worsens. You can barely breathe through the acrid scent assaulting your senses. It was all worth it. You'd tear every muscle fibre of your body apart to show your reverence to Leon. No one can love him like you can.

You wouldn't be content until he devoured you whole. Not until your souls became intertwined and you were sure you'd plague his thoughts like he had plagued yours. His teeth would sink deep into the flesh of your still beating heart, and only then would he understand the extent to which you adored him.

His innocent appearance meant nothing when he could ruin you so completely with one simple look. One touch. One smile.

He already had.

#dark content #leon kennedy x reader #leon s kennedy x reader #leon kennedy smut #leon kennedy x you #leon s kennedy smut #leon s kennedy x you #seriously... don't read this!

169 notes · View notes

bitchinbarzal · 1 year

Text

hold on | J.Hughes

summary; just when Jack wants to give in, you tell him to hold on just a little longer

warnings; suicide, talks of death, ambulances, hospitals and substance abuse.

I took a more soft approach than I intended

Read at your own discretion

Jack should feel so blessed.

He has a great family; his two brothers and parents doted on him from day one, he had his dream job that he’d worked on for years and his friends were the very best friends he could’ve ever asked for.

So why did he feel this way?

Why was he allowing a girl to break his heart and make him feel useless.

Jack Hughes. Useless.

Layla had told him over text that she had slept with her roommate while he was away on a road trip to California. Jake. Fucking Jake.

Jack knew he wasn’t gay, like Layla had told him so many times when he brought up their flirting.

Jack didn’t want to tell anyone what happened, not on the road. He didn’t want the pity stares and the second guessing of his game.

So he kept quiet throughout the roadie. His game tanked in San Jose, he heard the comments in the media;

fraud

fake

not good enough

There was a break in games when the devils returned home, leaving Jack to sit with his own thoughts. Layla had attempted to visit but he wouldn’t let her in.

He let the media consume him, the news articles and TikTok videos. All calling him out for not being good enough, he was a bust.

His feelings started almost subconsciously. When he was out at the store he would pick up bottles of painkillers as if he’d not bought bottles the day prior.

He began ‘forgetting’ to call and text his family and friends. His way of preparing them to never hear from him again.

People began to get concerned for him, he wasn’t himself.

A week into his depressive episode Jack tried to get back out there. He ventured to Raya.

He started talking to a model, she seemed nice and they organized a date only for him to show up and she couldn’t stop talking about followers and social media, how being with someone famous like Jack would do good for her.

Jack paid the bill and he left.

Just another girl who saw him as nothing more than just another pretty boy.

The bottles lined up on his bathroom counter, caps off as he stared at himself in the mirror. His eyes were red and bloodshot and his palms were sure to have cuts from his grip on the marble countertop.

He took them, all of them.

The empty plastic bottles clattered against the floor once he’d tossed them, his chest heaving while they slipped down his windpipe.

He was sobbing and he wasn’t sure why. It felt right. To cry and mourn the life he was taking away.

It didn’t happen all at once. Jack expected it to happen faster but he felt fine.

He found his phone, texting ‘i love you’ to his friends and family. A few replied with similar

Others, his brother Quinn questioned him

what do you mean? what’s wrong?

Quinn called him. He declined.

Quinn called again. He declined again.

Quinn text. And again. And again.

When Jack declined Quinn’s call for a third time, he called 911.

“Hi yes my brother, he’s acting weird and I think — I think he could be hurting himself”

Jack sat on the bathroom floor as the pills slowly worked their way into his body, his fingers began getting numb and he became drowsy.

He didn’t know what was happening but he heard a lot of yelling and the door of the bathroom flew open.

On the other side of the door was you, chest heaving as you stared down at him

“My god, dude your doors are heavy!”

You dropped to your knees next to him, pulling out liquids and needles while you simultaneously turned jack towards the toilet bowl.

“Who?” Jack slurred.

“It’s okay sweetheart, I’m here to help. My names y/n, I’m a paramedic. I hear you’ve got an awfully concerned big brother” you explained, using the time he was distracted to slip the needle into his arm while held the liquids he was about to need.

“I Just, Go! I want to die!” He demanded, shoving you as much as he could.

You shook your head “I can’t let that happen Jack, You have so much to live for”

“No” he cries “I hate you, stop!”

You turn him towards the toilet bowl once more and you say “You’re about to hate me so much more”

And before he can question you, you shove two of your fingers into his mouth and hit the back of his throat. He gags and tries to pull your hands out but you grab the back of his head and stop him

“I’m sorry Jack, I hope you’ll forgive me at some point”

He’s puking all over your hand and although he’s in no position to, he feels embarrassed.

Once he has vomited a sufficient amount your second paramedic has arrived with the gurney.

“C’mon bud let’s go to the hospital” you mumble, helping him up. He holds onto you, his hands are shaking and you can hear him softly sobbing.

Your heart breaks for him as you watch him, confused, sit on the gurney and be strapped down.

When he’s loaded in, he’s looking around as if he’s looking for someone. You smile as you go to grab the keys from your partner when Jack reaches out and grabs your hand

“Please don’t leave me”

You nod, jumping in the back with him.

You sit in silence for a while, filling out forms and checking his meds until Jack breaks the silence

“You’re not gonna ask why I did it?”

You hum “It’s not my place to question you”

“You’re not curious?” He presses.

You sigh, putting down your clipboard

“Do you want me to ask? Do you want me to question why you, Jack, hate your life so much to want to end it? What, because you’re a hotshot hockey player you think mental health can’t touch you?” You reply.

Jack physically gulps “how did-“

“Jack, you’re worth so much in this world. More than hockey! You’re gonna be a dad one day and get married? You’ll take trips across the world with your friends and you’ll do loads of exciting shit!” You exclaim, the smile on your face put one on Jack’s

He looked down at his hands and you huffed before standing to adjust his saline bag

“It was a girl” he mumbled and you frowned

“Huh?”

“It was a girl that I was getting to depressed over”

You tut and sit back down on the bench

“She doesn’t know what she’s missing! You seem like a great guy Jack and you have a caring family, your brother was really worried about you is what dispatch said”

Jack’s lips created a thin line and he hummed before he said

“Do You do this a lot? You were really calm today”

You chuckled softly “You are the first suicide attempt I’ve ever been to and I am actually having a major panic attack internally right now”

“Oh” Jack’s mouth creates an O shape “Sorry about that”

You brush it off with a soft smile.

“You’ve got so much to live for Jack, I promise”

Once you’re at the hospital and he’s being pulled out of the ambulance he grabs your wrist once more, bringing your attention to him

“What do i have to live for? Tell me”

You give him a smile and hold his hand

“It’ll happen Jack, just hold on”

“C’mon baby, just hold on a couple more-“

“He’s here!”

You throw your head back and cry out “Jack! What does he-“

“He’s so perfect baby, he’s fucking beautiful” he cries, kissing your head repeatedly.

That night, the rooms quiet and jack is sitting in the chair next to you while your son sleeps soundly on the other side of the room.

You look over to Jack and give a sleepy smile

He smiles back and said “was this it?”

“Was this what?”

“Me holding on. Was this what I was holding on for?”

Your face drops remembering that day

“Was It worth it? What I described?”

“It Was everything and more, thank you for saving my life in more ways than one”

#jack hughes imagine #jack hughes x reader #nhl imagine #tw: suicide

272 notes · View notes

chvnnie · 2 years

Text

Pain Killer

bang chan x reader

word count: 3.0k

genre: smut - MINORS DNI

warnings: NO USE OF ACTUAL DRUGS/PAIN KILLERS. friends to lovers, reader is depressed, masturbation, use of toys, soft dom!chan, pet name: angel, unprotected sex (no no), dirty talk, like a little touch of a breeding kink, a lil bit of corruption, mutual feelings. if i missed anything PLEASE LET ME KNOW.

summary: all you need is something to numb the pain.

kofi request: reader is going through a depressive moment & they proceed to have desperate, angsty, needy sex where member "fucks the pain away".

a/n: this was very cathartic to write tbh, so thank you sm to the person who requested it. it helped me to write it.

this is a work of fiction. this fic in no way represents bang chan as a person or stray kids as a whole. you are responsible for the media you consume. please read responsibly.

taglist: @lix-ables, @rachalixie, @agustd-essert, @gibbysupremeacyisreal, @katieraven, @miamormi, @woahfruity, @isilentprincess, @hugs4chan, @stranger-thighs, @beautifulcolorgarden, @scottmcallisdaddy, @whatudowhennooneseesyou, @raspbinniecreme, @humayraaaaa

The moment your bedroom door closed, you sunk to the ground, back flush against it as you bring your knees to your chest. Head cradled by your hands, you listen to the swishing of your ceiling fan, letting the noise soothe you. In the peace you found, the tears you’ve held back all day break free. They’re cool compared to the heat of your face, rolling down your cheeks and puddling in your hands.

There was a sadness in your chest that was so painful and deep that it seemed impossible to cut out. Everything has just felt extra hard lately; you miss your family, classes seem more difficult than usual, friends are hurting your feelings. It hurt. It hurt so much that your body felt weak, head heavy as you tried to contain all your emotions.

Your sobs became heavy; deep breaths and soft hiccups as you let the sadness consume you, finally breaking down. The release felt good — like you were dumping out all of the negative emotions and making space for new, brighter ones.

But, will positive feelings fill that void? Or will the dark, spikey emotions waltz back into you and cut even deeper than before? Something needs to fill it; like a painkiller for your emotions, fighting away the hurt before it can fester and grow.

You pull yourself up, slowly stripping out of your clothes and letting them pile at the door. Sluggishly, you drag yourself to the attached bathroom and turn on your shower.

What could you use to kill the pain?

Unable to stand, you sit in the tub right under the shower head, hard droplets silenced as they bounce off your skin. Silently, you stare at the wall, tears mixing with the water as you silently weigh your options. Things to do to numb yourself. To rid yourself of this never ending pain.

What could you do to kill the pain?

The water turns cold when you finally work up the strength to turn it off. You find the fluffiest towel you own, wrapping yourself up. You hold it up higher, burying your face in dark fabric. Listening to your breathing. Bringing yourself back down to earth.

Do you stand in your cocoon for minutes? Hours? The droplets on your legs have dried; goosebumps decorating your exposed skin as the cold air twirls around your body. Slowly, you peel the towel off, folding it neatly and placing it on your counter.

Maybe what you need is to forget about everything. Empty your brain, clear your senses and give your body a restart. Before you can really process those thoughts, you begin to search through your bedside table, only stopping with your fingertips brush against the silk bag.

It’s like just the touch of the bag gives you a fresh wave of energy; quickly shutting your blinds and turning off your lights in favor of the warm glow of your tea candles. You make your bed, fluffing the many pillows that live there as if you’re not about to make a mess of them. Sitting against the headboard with your knees to your chest, you finally open the little bag.

The wand feels heavy in your hands, legs clenching in anticipation of its touch. While easily your most expensive, not to mention prettiest, toy, it rarely left the bag. It wasn’t something you wanted to use often, wanting to save it for days that you really, really needed it.

Today was one of those days.

Knees still hiked up, you spread your legs. Placing the wand on the bed, a hand slowly creeps down your body. First it lands on your breast, back arching slightly as you tease the nipple. Your breathing deepens as the warm pleasure begins to wash over you. Deciding to pay extra attention to your chest, the other hand slides in between your legs.

Just a few moments of teasing was enough to make your core slick, fingertips gliding easily through your folds. Your eyes flutter shut as you play with yourself, familiar images dancing behind your eyelids as you immerse yourself in thoughts you usually don’t dare to humor. Thoughts of him. Of his hands. Of the muscles that flex under the tight material of his shirts. Of the way his thighs look when he wears those stupid grey sweatpants-

Your fingers aren’t enough. Without opening your eyes, you pat the bed in search of the wand. The cool metal handle meets your palm, and you shakily turn it on. Skipping the lower settings and heading straight for the higher pressures, you resume the motions you were making with your fingers. The vibrations make your legs shake, the feeling crawling up your spine and leaving first in its wake.

He’s just so nice. Always so gentle with you; it’s clear he genuinely cares about you. Maybe not in more than a friendly way, but it’s when you let yourself divulge in your guilty little fantasy that you wonder how he would care for you in a not-so-friendly way. Would he be gentle with you, like he always is? Soft kisses and touches, slow, languid thrusts while his lips stay connected to yours-

-or would he treat you a little rougher? Would he grab you hard enough to leave bruises? Would he whisper his most filthy, perverted desires in your ear as he takes you from behind?

Your mind wanders with all of the things he could do to you. All the things he could make you do. When you think hard enough, it’s almost like your hands aren’t yours, but his. Touching you. Feeling you. Claiming you as his.

The center of your body feels like it’s on fire, an explosion happening between your legs as you release all over your bed. Eyes shooting open, you stare at the ceiling as your high finally ends, breathes heavy and full. Fuck, did you really cum to the thought of him? Again? Shame washes over you, and the voids that were once filled with pleasure are now emptying quickly. Fuck, what were you thinking? Why did you-

There are three rapid knocks to your door, followed by knob rattling like someone was trying to open it. “Hey, why is your door locked?”

You don’t remember doing so, but given your current position, you’re glad you did. The last thing you wanted was for your roommate to find you like this.

Throwing an oversized shirt on, you crack the door open just enough that Chan can see you. “Usually people wait for an invitation before they try to enter a room.”

He flashes you a perfect smile, which just makes you feel more shameful. It’s the same smile you picture when you think of him between your- “Sorry. Think you can forgive me?”

You playfully roll your eyes, giving him a shrug. “I guess.”

“I just have a quick question and then I’ll leave you alone.”

“Sure.”

“I know it’s my night to order take out, but can we push it to tomorrow? I know it’s super last minute, but I have a date tonight and-“

His mouth is moving but you can’t hear anything over the shattering of your heart. There’s so much joy in his eyes, an excited smile as he tells you all about this person, but all you can think about is how fucking badly your chest hurts. The pain is throbbing, shards of glass stuck in the place where your heart should be. The void you desperately tried to fill was suddenly full, but of something that brought an immense amount of agony. You could cripple over right here, fall on the ground and sob. It’s far too much.

“Yeah, that’s fine.” You say, cutting Chan off mid sentence, no longer able to listen to him gush over this person.

His eyebrows raise in surprise. “Are you okay?”

“So okay.”

“Come on, don’t lie to me-“

“Who said it’s a lie, Chan?” Your eyes sting with tears, everything inside you screaming to keep it all in.

You watch Chan’s face from one of shock and confusion to concern. He steps forward, reaching a hand out to you. An offer. Take it, and he’ll do all he can to make you feel better. That’s what he’s always done, right? Take care of you?

But you step back, away from his hand and his comfort. You didn’t deserve his comfort, not after what you thought about while touching yourself. Not when he wasn’t yours.

Defeatedly, Chan moves his hand and runs it through his hair. “Okay. Yeah. Listen, I won't push you to talk about anything with me.” His voice is soft, barely above a whisper. “But I know things have been really rough lately, and I just need to know that you’re going to be alright.”

Keeping it in is no longer an option, the fresh tears breaking free. You bring your hands to your face, aggressively trying to wipe them away. Unable to speak, you just shake your head. You feel his arms wrap around you, a hand on the back of your head as he pulls you into him.

You bury your head in his chest, inhaling his scent as you attempt to compose yourself. Everything comes spilling out of you at once; pain, guilt, sadness, finally safe in Chan’s hold. Fingers rake through your hair, untangling every knot with the soothing motion. He tilts you back and forth, basically rocking you, content with waiting until you’re ready to break free.

“‘m sorry.” Your apology is muffled against his chest, shirt damp with tears. “I’m not okay.”

“Shh. It’s alright. You don’t have to be.” Chan untangles his fingers from your hair, pushing the door open fully. “Come on, angel, let’s get you in bed, hm? Then we can figure something out.”

The nickname, which started out as a joke between the two of you, warms your chest. It’s like a little reminder that he always genuinely cares for you, so purely and kindly. Chan grabs your wrist, walking you to your bed-

Oh.

Oh no.

“Wait. No, I-I actually want to be alone, Chan-“

But it’s too late. Your roommate is frozen on the side of your bed, eyes focused on the large wet spot and discarded want. God, you want to shrink into your skin and hide. It’s even worse knowing that all you could think of when you came was him, and now he was here, staring at the aftermath of your shame.

“This is, uh,” he clears his throat “why your door was locked.”

You lean against the wall, holding your head in your hands. A scream is building in your throat, the embarrassment almost too much to bear. Neither of you are looking at each other, but you nod your head anyway. If you open your mouth, you’re going to scream.

“Did it help?” His voice is soft but rough, like his mouth is drying out.

That question makes you drop your arms in frustration. How do you even begin to answer it? Why does it matter? “Kind of.” You say, settling on an answer.

A silence fills the room, and you feel yourself sinking more. The small bit of guilt you felt before has intensified, completely consumed by the feeling. You’re going to have to move out of the apartment. Maybe out of the city. Maybe you can change your name and pretend you never knew Chan, pushing him out of your mind.

“Let me try.”

The words hit you like a train, knocking you further against the wall. Pinching your thigh, you prove to yourself that this isn’t a fantasy — this is your reality. Your roommate, who you have been hopelessly head over heels for for as long as you can remember, is offering assistance. Offering relief.

“How?”

You watch as Chan kneels on the bed, picking up the toy. He rolls it in his hand, inspecting the head of it, before turning to look at you for the first time since entering your room. There’s a look in his eyes that no one has ever given you before; it’s deeper than desperation, it’s raw and animalistic. A need that’s like a force, overwhelming and appealing, making you move closer to the bed until you’re within his reach.

“Sit down, and show me.” He doesn’t break eye contact with you the entire time he speaks so you understand.

It’s not a request. It’s a command.

Slowly, you crawl back into bed, returning to the position you were in before. The eye contact doesn’t waver, not even as you spread your legs, pulling your shirt up to expose your bare center. Wordlessly, Chan holds out the wand, offering it to you.

You can say no. You can pretend like this never happened, and everything can go back to normal. Chan will go on his date, and you’ll search endlessly for a way to ease the pain.

You take the toy.

His eyes travel down your body, lingering on your hardened nipples peeking through your shirt before moving lower. When he looks at your cunt, he releases the breath you didn’t know he was holding. His gaze should make you feel pressured, nervous. While you do feel a little shy, the urge to pull down your shirt increases with the length of time he stares, you feel comfortable. Chan has always cared for you before. Why would now be any different?

You repeat every motion from before, down to the speed of the vibrator to the path it takes. Instead of closing your eyes, you watch him. Watch how he sets his lips, how he studies the movements you make. What makes you shake. What makes you whine.

Right as you bring the head of the toy to your clit, Chan grabs your wrist, stopping you.

“That’s not enough.” His voice is smooth like velvet, a groan building in your throat at the sound alone. Maneuvering your wrist, Chan moves the toy in a different pattern.

He lifts the toy, the vibrations barely hitting your clit as you feel cold fingers run through your folds. “You’re not doing enough, angel.” He speaks over your moans, the pressure of his fingers intense compared to the toy. With ease, he slides his middle finger inside you. “Your pretty little cunt needs more. Doesn’t this feel so much better?”

The pace he takes could be compared to a snail; slow and lazy, but rough. He slams his finger in and out, enjoying the feeling of your walls and the sounds you make as he explores you.

“How long have you been pent up like this?” He brings your wrist down, the vibrations becoming more intense.

“A while.” You breathe out, eyes fluttering shut.

“Eyes on me when you speak, angel.” His words are clipped, a jolt of fear rushing down your spine as you snap your eyes back open. The smirk he gives you doesn’t help anything, muddying the fear with pleasure. “There’s my good girl.”

The praise makes you clench around his finger, and you watch as his eyes darken even more. The pace of his finger speeds up, a bit more aggressive as he brings the wand closer. He’s only using one finger, why is it making you so dizzy?

You clutch onto your sheet, legs shaking as the intensity builds. You’re right there, the second orgasm building rapidly. Just a few more thrusts and you’ll be pushed over the edge.

The moment your legs threaten to snap shut, Chan pulls out, pulling your parted lips with the finger that was just inside you.

“Stay still.” He says firmly as he lets go of your wrist, commanding you to keep the vibratior in place. Roughly, he starts pushing his sweats down with one hand, eagerness evident with his speed. “How long have you wanted this?”

Chan pulls the finger out of your mouth, allowing you the freedom to speak once again. “I-I don’t know. A long time. A long time, Chan-“

“Yeah?” He holds his cock to your entrance, teasing your clenching hole. “Does that mean you think about me when you play with yourself?”

You don’t need to answer — the look on your face is enough for him to figure it out. You do, and often.

Chan pushes in without warning, tearing a scream from your trembling lips. “Good. So do I.”

He grabs your hips as he begins to slam into you, head rolling back as he bites his lip. It all feels better than either of you could have imagined; your walls squeeze him beautifully, his cock is felt in your stomach. Like pieces of a puzzle, you fit perfectly together, forming into one.

“I’ve needed you for so-“ slam. “-fucking-“ his hips hit yours. “-long.” He pushes your hips up, positioning you so he can go deeper. “I’m gonna fuck your pain away angel. Crowd that pretty head of yours until all you can do is think about me and how good I make you feel.”

It wouldn’t take much. You were already dizzy, body twitching with oversensitivity as he uses you in the perfect way to make you both feel incredible. All you’ve ever wanted was right in front of you, a fantasy come to life. Your own personal painkiller that only worked for you. Every inch of your body relaxes, the spikes digging into your chest slowly disappear. Once was once too deep to cut out is now nonexistent, stitched up and healed by the feeling of the person you’ve always needed.

Chan leans over you, lips crashing against yours as his thrusts begin to get sloppy. “Wanna take care of you.” He grunts into the messy kiss, moaning as your tongue rubs against his own. “Let me make you mine, my beautiful girl.”

All you’ve ever wanted, spilling his desperate want for you and chanting your name as he cums inside you, filling the aching void in your chest. You break shortly after him, crying out for him as he works you through it, all while whispering “mine, mine, mine.”

Yours. Yours. Yours.

A painkiller. A lover. A friend. The tape holding your heart together.

Yours. Yours. Yours.

©: chvnnie 2022

#stray kids smut #skz smut #straykidsland #bang chan smut #chan smut

910 notes · View notes

monocodoll · 4 months

Text

MonocoDoll's Vile Ventures (Drug Dealing) Mod Report (Small Additions, Additional Tunables, Animation Bloopers, Testing/Bug Fixes)

Another Month has passed. Which means another Mod Report for my Vile Ventures mod. This month I have been focusing on adding small additions, creating more tunables, attempt at first consuming animation, and testing the mod on a playthrough to find any bugs that may have been missed. Which I will go over these on the report.

[Small Additions]

-Shroom Harvestable

A new Shroom Harvestable has been created. As I honestly forgot to create one when I had previously made my other custom plants. The shroom seeds are obtainable through your NPC drug dealer after aquiring Drug Dealing Skill level 4.

You are also able to craft your own baggies of Shrooms through obtaining 6 Shroom ingredients and one baggy.

The Shroom Baggies are also obtainable through your Drug Dealer NPC, and there are no skill requirements needed to obtain the consumable shroom baggies.

-Illegally aquiring Drug Seeds

You are now able to obtain Drug Seeds Illegally via your NPC Drug Dealer. However, you must meet a certain threshold within your Drug Dealing Skill level. The prices for each seed is tunable.

-Drug Dealing Skill Level 3: Unlocks White Widow and Purple Haze Buds

-Drug Dealing Skill Level 4: Unlocks Skunk and OG Kush Buds. As Well as Shrooms seed.

-Drug Dealing Skill Level 5: Unlocks AK47 and Amnesia Buds. As well as Coca Seeds.

-Drug Dealing Skill Level 7: Unlocks Opium Seed.

-Racket Inheritance

Any Rackets that your Drug Dealer Sim owns can now be passed down to someone in the case of your sim dying. You are able to ask any Teen or above sim to take over your operations when you pass. The sim being asked must not be against Illegal drugs and need to have at least a friendship relationship established. Otherwise they will not accept your offer.

In the case that your sim who owns the Illegal racket does not assign anyone to inheret the rackets. The Rackets will first be handed to a child of the sim. If no children are present, then a sibling. If No siblings are present, then a parent. Otherwise, the racket will be lost upon death.

-Added Extra Benefits For Completing Drug Dealing Challenges.

Completing the Cannabis Dealer Expert, Psychedelic Dealer Expert, Pill Dealer Expert, and Powder Dealer Expert challenges now provides an additional bonus on top of just increasing sale earnings for the category of the drug. Completing these category challenges will now net you high quality product when you are crafting your own supply. So collecting your cured weed while having the Cannabis Dealing Expert challenge completed will provide you with high quality cannabis baggy instead of normal quality cannabis baggy.

-Lean Is Craftable

Lean is now craftable. Select a Styfoam Cup. You will need Jolly Ranchers, Sprite, Styrofoam Cup, and Cold Medicine. The cold medicine has up to 4 uses. So with one cold medicine, you can create up to 4 Lean.

-Using Baby Laxatives to Cut High Quality Cocaine

Baby Laxatives will be obtainable at the grocery store. On Drug Dealing Skill level 2, you will be able to utilize them to cut High Quality Cocaine Baggies into normal quality Cocaine Baggies. Which will either net you two or three Normal Quality Cocaine Baggies.

-Finished Making Moodlet Images For each Custom Moodlet

At this moment, the total amount of custom moodlets provides by this mod will be 106. The images for these moodlets have been completed.

[Additional Tunables]

I also added some notable tunable's to certain features. There are many more, but I will notate the ones that were introduced during this month.

-Overdose Chances

Chance of overdosing on drugs are tunable. By default the values for each drug.

Lean: 60%

Adderall: 40%

PainKillers: 50%

Xanax: 45%

MDMA: 55%

Cocaine: 70%

Meth: 80%

Heroin: 90%

Overdosing can only occurs if your sim takes more than one dose of the substance when they are already under the effects of that substance.

-Fatal Overdose Chances

You can also determine the chances of an overdose being fatal. If the overdose is fatal, the sim will die. If it is not fatal the sim will be knocked out and fall asleep. By default the values for a fatal overdose are...

Lean: 40%

Adderall: 30%

PainKillers: 40%

Xanax: 20%

MDMA: 30%

Cocaine: 50%

Meth: 70%

Heroin: 80%

-Time it takes to Cure Weed

Previously, the time it took to cure weed in a jar was not a tunable. While I was playing a playthrough with my mod, I figured that some would appreciate this as a tunable. By default it is 24 hours.

-Time It Takes for Cocaine Brick and Meth Package to finish

Previously, the time it took for Cocaine Brick and Meth Package to be completed in their respective containers was not a tunable. The time it takes is now tunable. By default, it takes 48 hours for a Cocaine Brick and Meth Package to be collected in their respective containers after filling it up.

-Drug Dealing Skill Points earned per Sale

You will be able to dictate just how much skill points your sim earns per type of drug sold. By Default selling Cannabis, Psychedelic, Pill, and Powdered type drugs net you 100 skillpoints. Which is a bit of a grind. For example at the moment during my playthrough I sold 139 drugs and I just got to Drug Dealing Skill level 5.

[Animation Attempt]

There was an attempt during the month to at least produce one consumption animation for this month. However, the prop refused to appear in the correct location. I'm still unsure what went wrong, but I will continue to look into it. The attempt was made for the drink Lean animation.

[Changes/Fixes Made During Testing]

I decided to perform a playthrough with my mod. To determine if I should make any changes or if there are any bugs that need fixing. Which there were a few I found.

-Fixed Bug Preventing my custom plants from growing overtime.

-Fixed a Bug Preventing the heat system from saving after reloading a save:

Example, my sim had a heat level of 15. Making him eligible to potentially have his residence raided. However, when I reloaded my save after saving. My sims heat level went back down to 0. This is resolved and heat level will be retained even after reloading a save.

-Fixed Empty Jars having a black substance inside of them:

This was a problem I had in the past, but didn't decide to expirement to try to fix it until it started to bother me in my playthrough. The black substance only appeared after you collected your cured cannabis. However, the empty jars are now truly empty.

-Made a adjustment to crafting drugs via the Chemistry Table:

Previously when processing Coke Powder, Meth Tray, Heroin, and MDMA there were no Drug Dealing Skill Requirements. I decided to go back and add a Drug Dealing Skill requirement in order to produce these drugs via the Chemistry Table. Especially for Meth. Since all the ingredients to produce meth is obtainable through the grocery store. Which will make it too easy I thought. So now on top of the logic skills required to produce these substances. MDMA production will require a Drug Dealing Skill of 4, Cocaine/Meth Production will require a Drug Dealing Skill of 5 Heroin production will require a Drug Dealing Skill of 7. Cannabis and Shrooms still do not require a drug dealing skill. Just the necessary ingredients for now.

And that is all I have to report on for this month. We went over creating a Shroom harvestable, Racket Inheritance, Crafting Lean, Obtaining Drug Seeds Illegally, Cutting High Quality Cocaine with baby laxatives, Adding more tunables, and making adjustments and fixing bugs found during my playthrough.

I had fun testing the early game of my mod. I managed to make it to drug dealing skill level 5 and was satisfied with the early game of the mod. I will continue to test my playthrough and attempt to make it to the late game of my mod. Where I will be attempting to own my own rackets and ensure that they work just perfectly. If all is well during my playthrough then everything is complete regarding my Drug Dealing side of the mod. And all that would be left are the final touches of the consumption of these substances. Which will include consumption Animations, reactions of nearby sims when smoking, and a rolling skill for joints and blunts, and possibly anything else that I may think of later on.

Now I'm going to go back to being a ghost. However, again thank you for all those that are patient.

#ts3 modding

45 notes · View notes

crisalidaseason · 8 months

Text

So, that came out of my brain while I was high on painkillers and watching good omens. A special thanks to @the-bureaucracts-are-everything for hosting this event (I meant to say a thanks on my last post but I genuinely forgot so here it is!)

Day 2: Flies

People didn't like flies, that Beelzebub already knew. And that wasn't something exclusive to humans, no, no! Many other beings expressed their despise for those creatures, even if everyone was careful about saying it near the prince of hell. At first, Beelzebub was upset about it, how could all of them feel disgust over such small and wonderful creatures that made Beelzebub's entire being? It was like an angel being disgusted of soft feathers, or humans and animals about flesh and bone. It made no sense.

But anger soon turned into malice, Beelzebub would feel joy in sending a swarm of flies to eat alive a particularly vocal demon that badmouthed their little flies, they loved to make the buzzing creatures appear in the most inconvenient places and do the nastiest things in order to cause terror to humans. The lord of flies was proud of their little beings, but a spark of worry started to form.

"bzzz" the little fly was quietly waiting on their lord's commands. The fly was happy, almost too happy to stay put. The lord had chosen it from all of the others.

Beelzebub lovingly gazed at the little one, thinking it that was the best one to behave as a container. Would Gabriel feel disgusted by it? They didn't want to admit, but if the angel expressed any sort of negative thoughts about the little one, Beelzebub would not be angry or mischiveous, they would be sad.

"I have a mission for you, sweet one" the demon softly said, supporting the fly on their finger "I need you to be someone's companion"

The little one buzzed again, in excitement.

"It is a gift" Beelzebub continued "which means you won't be with me anymore"

The fly's wings stopped and dropped down, the buzzing went silent.

"I know, little one. Do you want to stay? I can gift another one"

The fly seemed to think for a moment, maybe even considering staying with the demon, but also not wanting the demon to think less of it.

"You're my most trusted, little one" Beelzebub comforted "what about you meet my…counterpart? You can decide then if you want to stay with him"

The buzzing was still low.

"I will not be mad if you choose to stay, don't worry"

Beelzebub felt the buzzing of agreement, still reluctant. The lord of flies opened their pocket and the fly quickly entered, patiently waiting for the next command. Beelzebub checked their surroundings, not wanting to explain anything to nosy demons, and soon projected themselves to earth. They found Gabriel exactly were the angel said: at a cemetery. While the angel talked about the beauty of the statue, which Beelzebub had to admit was almost too creepily similar to the archangel, the demon wondered if the angel would ever look at them the same way. On the other hand, the fly was slightly buzzing, as if finding something funny.

"Shall we go to the pub?" the demon said, already heading to the ressurectionist.

The walk back to the pub was silent, in a rather comfortable way despite Beelzebub's worried thoughts. The little fly kept buzzing, increasing its excitement once they finally entered the pub and ordered some beverages and a packet of crisps. Once Beelzebub sat in the cushioned L-seat, they waited for the archangel to bring their drinks.

"Here you go" the angel said.

As gabriel sat down, Beelzebub curiously looked at the drinks, not really sure of what to do with it.

"You don't actually have to consume it" Gabriel continued.

"Oh" they felt a little relief, not wanting to explore foods or drinks quite yet

"And the…" the angel motioned to the bag beside the demon

"The packet of crisps? Good"

Beelzebub was completely nervous. The prince of hell, lord of flies, second in command, ruler of all lesser demons...was nervous. It was all that angel's fault and to worsen things, they recognized a tune from a while ago.

"Is that-did you?" the demon stuttered.

"A small miracle" the angel said "that song will always be there, on that jukebox, to comfort the aflicted"

Beelzebub could not hold the smile. They had forgotten about that song, but Gabriel using a miracle so recklessly, with no high purpose, sent a spark of happiness into the demon. The fly was buzzing loudly on their pocket, not being able to contain the mirrored excitement, sending Beelzebub many many little pleads to be gifted to the angel. It seemed the little one liked the angel, or at least liked how they made Beelzebub feel.

"I should give you something" the prince of hell said, silently asking the fly to materialize.

The demon extended their hand, and the little fly quickly materialized there. It was standing proud, waiting for its moment to shine.

"Here, it's for you" Beelzebub said "You never know when you'll need it. It's a container, it's bigger on the inside. You can put things in it"

The demon was rambling, trying to convince the angel that the little fly was useful despite the apparently disgusting opinions about its nature. They genuinely hoped Gabriel could see beyond the incomprehensible prejudice. Beelzebub carelessly took a box of matches, a bit nervous, giving it to the archangel. Their chest was tight as they watched Gabriel gently put the little fly inside the box.

"Bye bye!" the demon said to their little one.

The fly happily buzzed inside the box, completely satisfied. Gabriel gently put the box on his chest pocket. A small gesture that Beelzebub took kindly, the angel seemed completely alright with the little creature.

"I don actually know what to say" the angel confessed.

"Why not?"

Gabriel was surprised, brows contorted in wonder.

"No one has ever given me anything before"

Oh angel, Beelzebub thought, leaving a sigh of relief. They watched as Gabriel softly touched his chest pocket, as if not believing there was a gift in there. The angel smiled, looking at Beelzebub again.

"Thank you" Gabriel softly said.

Thank you, angel.

#good omens #IBweek2023 #ineffable bureaucracy #lord beelzebub #archangel gabriel #gabriel x beelzebub #day 2

51 notes · View notes

imaginexwwe · 11 months

Text

WRONG NAME 2|3 - Seth ROLLINS

Seth Rollins X Reader • Cody Rhodes X Reader

Guest appearance Brandi

•

PART 1 (x) : Reader's backstage watching her boyfriend, (Colby Lopez) Seth Rollins' HIAC match against his current rival Cody Rhodes

•

Reader goes to check up on Cody Rhodes while her relationship with Colby Lopez hangs in the balance after a little mix-up

•

I stopped in my tracks, biting down on my lips as I stared at the door of the hospital room Cody was in.

My hand lingered above the door handle as I continued to contemplate whether or not I was making the right decision by coming here.

Of course you are, a thought in my mind seemingly answered for me as I now lowered my hand onto the door handle, feeling the coldness on my palm.

But Colby...

What would he think?

Two new thoughts rang out just as I had being to apply pressure on the handle to open the door.

"Colby..." I whispered to myself, images of my pissed off boyfriend from earlier flickering in my mind.

Images of how his eyes flickered with so much hatred as he processed the fact that I had mistakenly called him Cody.

How contorted his face looked.

How he had left me in the backstage area alone as he stormed away.

My body quivered as I mentally shook the images from my mind.

I had done nothing wrong

Sure I called Colby, Cody but it wasn't on purpose

I was just confused from the kiss I had shared with Cody which again, was an ACCIDENT

But that kiss also stirred up a lot of emotions.

Emotions I thought I had buried deep, deep down in my thoughts after Cody and I had parted ways after five years together.

Five of the happiest years of my life.

Up until the last few months of course, I reminded myself.

Why did he have to come back?

If he had just stayed away at AEW I would've been fine.

I wouldn't be here.

I wouldn't be questioning myself, my decisions.

I wouldn't be confused over which man I loved.

I wouldn't have, had to hear Cody finally say the words I had wanted him to say so many years earlier.

"I still love you, Y|N..."

Did I still love him though?

I sighed, realizing that I had been holding my breath this whole time.

"I won't know if I don't go in." I mumbled slightly frustrated at myself for taking so long to build up the courage to step inside Cody's hospital room.

I hurriedly pushed down on the door handle, and stepped inside the room unwilling to give myself another second to think, afraid I may spend another five or ten minutes getting into my own head again.

"Cody, I really need to talk to you," I began to ramble uncontrollably, not even stopping to think that maybe they had given Cody some kind of painkillers and that he could be sleeping. I just knew I had some things to say and I wanted to say them while I had this built up confidence. "I can't stop thinking about what you said and I know it seemed like you meant it but I," I paused for a second to swallow. "I just need to hear you say you meant i-"

I stopped suddenly, as I finally rounded the corner in his hospital room seeing a female figure standing over him, rubbing her thumb along his cheek.

"Brandi..?" I gasped out, seeing the attractive woman standing at his bedside.

"Y|N..?" Cody's estranged wife called out my name, her tone matching mines as if she was mocking me.

Her face was made up like it always was when you would see her on TV, she was dressed nice like always, the only difference this time...

Her red puffy eyes.

Had she been crying over Cody?

Was his situation that bad?

I mean it looked that bad but was it bad enough to rush to your estranged husband's bedside to be with him?

Well you rushed to be here for him, that voice in my head reminded me

"Y|N..." I faintly heard my name being called as I continued to blankly stare over in Brandi's direction, my thoughts once again consuming me. "Y|N..." I heard it again as I finally snapped my eyes over from the female and over to the male that I had come to see.

The very male, I was so confused about.

"Yeah?" I asked, my gaze now locked on Cody's.

His blue eyes staring back into mines.

"I said, what are you doing here..?" Cody seemingly repeated

I shook my head, once again biting at my lip as it had begun to trimble out of nowhere. "I um..." I took a breath, trying to come up with a lie, knowing I couldn't tell the truth to why I was there.

Not with Brandi in the room.

"I um..." I stuttered again.

"You just came to see if I was okay after that match?" Cody spoke up again, slightly nodding his head as if he was trying to let me know he was trying to help me because he realized I wasn't able to get a full sentence out.

He always did know when to jump in and help me, I thought

Just like when I was struggling to come up with what to say to Colby earlier this evening...

"Uh, yeah..." I mumbled. "But I didn't know your wife was here..." I spat out.

A small part of me wanted to see if his eyes would let me know how he felt about me calling Brandi his wife.

Were they going to show that he loved having Brandi referred to as his wife?

Or were they going to show that he didn't like it, considering that they were supposingly separated and had been for almost a year now, according to the news that broke all across social media.

But as I continued to search his eyes I couldn't sew any kind of hint or answer to the questions I was thinking.

Just a few hours ago he practically confessed his fucking love for you, Y|N... you should know the answer whether he says it or not... you should know

"...But since you do and I see that you're okay, I should go." I quickly said, doing a quick turn to head back the way I came, in a hurry to get out of this hospital room and away from the two people in it. "Bye."

In what seemed like twenty five or thirty seconds, I had finally reached the door and the second my hand came in contact with the cool handle I heard my name being called again.

Cody's voice rang in my ears as he pleaded for me to stop, but little did he know, it only encouraged my feet to move faster.

I just had to get away from there.

I refused to see him again.

I refused to see her standing by his bedside, stroking his cheek with her thumb.

And I damn sure refused to let the both of them see my cry.

As I got a few doors down from Cody's room, I rounded the corner bumping into someone.

"Shit." I gasped out, looking up and being able to make out through blurry vision the person I bumped into was Cody's older brother. "Sorry Dustin."

Dustin nodded, looking down at me, concern in his eyes and voice. "You okay?"

I nodded, mumbling a quick. "Yeah." Before adding. "Just came to check up on Cody, but I'm really in a rush." I added half lying so that I could get away and not have to hold a conversation any longer.

•

I silently groaned to myself as I walked into the hotel room that I shared with my boyfriend Colby.

It felt so wrong just stepping foot into here with the way my feelings are beyond twisted.

"Colby..." I called out, keeping my voice purposefully low, hoping that he'd probably be sleep or better yet put at a bar pr something so that I could try to sort myself out.

But of course I couldn't be that lucky, I thought as I heard footsteps coming closer towards the entrance of the room.

"Where you with him?" Colby questioned as soon as he was face to face with me.

That was one of the things I liked about him.

Always getting straight to the point.

Unlike Cody who I had to drag it out of.

But once I did, his words just flowed like a river, unafraid to say what was on his mind.

"Yes," I admitted. "Yes I was." I added, walking further into the hotel room, going directly to my luggage that sat in a corner.

Colby quickly followed, grabbing at my arm. "What are you doing?" He asked, a mixture of confusion and anger lacing his words. "Why are you packing? Where are you going Y|N?" He asked again, throwing a couple more sentences at me.

I grabbed a few items of clothing, shaking my head. "I can't do this Colby..." I said, finally giving him an answer. "I can't do us anymore."

After shoving a few more things in my luggage, I eventually looked up to face Colby.

"I went to see him, nothing happened,"I spoke again, making sure it was known I didn't have some kind of quickie affair and had come to our shared hotel room to pack my things because I was leaving Colby for Cody. "I wouldn't do that to you. I love you too much to do something like that."

"Then why are you leaving me?"

I sighed again, wiping a tear that had fallen. "Because after almost three years of being with you, I've come to love you, obviously and even though I'm not sure what my feelings for Cody are, I don't think I can continue to be with you bec-"

Colby scrunched up his face, giving me a weird look like I was talking a foreign language he didn't understand or something. "What are you trying to say."

"I used to date Cody," I continued, talking a bit slower than my previous pace. "We were together for five years and earlier when you were still in the ring after your match," I paused to bite at the skin on the inside of my cheek. "I kiss-- I kissed him." I finally stuttered out. "And it was on accident, it really was," I continued. "I thought it was you coming back from the ring and I knew you'd be upset cause of your loss, and I figured I'd be waiting with a kiss to let you know that even though you loss, I was there for you and you'd always be my winner," again, I paused to make sure he was keeping up and after he frustratedly nodded, I continued. "I moved to fast and didn't realize till after the kiss felt different that it wasn't you I was kissing. And when I opened my eyes it was you. Then you walked in and I got nervous and well after you got pissed at me mixing up your name, Cody came back from down the hall where he overheard us, well you, yelling at me and he," I bit deeper on the inside of my cheek. "He told me he still loved me."

I finally finished explaining everything that had been wrecking my mind for the past five or six hours, and for about a minute or so, all Colby did was stare at me through narrowed eyes.

"Was it a good different?"

It was my turn to narrow my eyes, as I looked at the man in front of me in disbelief.

"What are you asking?" I questioned, even though I had a feeling what he was asking.

Colby ran a hand through his frizzy hair. "The kiss." He sighed, swallowing as if the words he was about to ask, were a lump that had formed in his throat. "You said you knew it wasn't me you were kissing because it felt different. Was it a good different or a bad different."

"You don't really want me to answer that, Colby," I replied.

"Good or bad?" Colby asked again, his tone darker.

I looked down unable to look him in the eyes because of the words that were about to come from my mouth. "Good." I whispered just enough that he could hear.

I was very aware that after tonight I was going to be on my own.

No Colby

And from what I saw at the hospital no Cody

But I'm proud of the way I handle the situation between me and Colby

He's a sweet guy when he wants to be and he wouldn't have deserved for me to keep what happened from him a minute longer

I'd be sleeping alone but at least I would be able to sleep

•

I KNOW I'VE TOOK FOREVER POSTING THIS BUT I HOPE ITS ENJOYABLE FOR THOSE WHO ASKED FOR A 2ND PART

•

TAGGING THOSE WHO ASKED FOR PT 2:

@jeyusos-girl @maineventmami @sorryimshannoon @sasha2234 @tinyxrose @sarah-bear706318

92 notes · View notes

trekessayist · 10 months

Text

Eugenics in Star Trek: a Disabled Perspective on Genetic Augmentation

Not the essay I wanted to write, to be honest, but I was scrolling through the DS9 tag and violently reminded of the dubiousness that Augments are treated with by the writers. It has never sat right with me how Augments get treated, both in-universe and by writers.

So let me start by pointing out that I think some of the Augment storylines were really well-written, and others sucked. Enterprise's Augment storyline sticks out as the absolute worst of the bunch, though apparently that was one of the better-received storylines. But I digress.

The problem with Augments is that, of course, their concept is based in eugenics. They're established in Space Seed to be remnants of a worse time on earth, people "improved" so much by genetic alteration that they believe themselves to be the superior humans, going so far as to wish to kill other humans. They're a very clear reason why genetic augmentation as a whole was banned on earth, later carrying over to Federation law as well.

This includes ALL forms of genetic augmentation, with no nuance. This becomes especially clear when it comes to Illyrians, who are banned from joining the Federation and Starfleet despite arguably genetically augmenting their own bodies for a noble purpose.

In Deep Space Nine, this culminates in Julian Bashir having to hide his status as an Augment to be able to have a career. It's clearly a sore point for him, and he really struggles with the concept of his authenticity as a person. I'm reminded of the one post talking about how Kukalaka, his teddy bear, serves as a physical reminder that even before his father took him to be augmented, he was fixing up or "healing" his teddy bear when it was broken or "sick", that becoming a doctor was in that sense the only path that felt authentic to his personality.

The other Deep Space Nine Augment storyline involves Julian's efforts to help a group of Augments who came out of the process still "defective". Which is still a great storyline in my opinion, despite its flaws.

And I understand that the Federation attitude towards Augments is an example of an idealistic society that isn't flawless, which is in many ways what DS9 represented as a whole. So I feel the storyline is very much relevant to the series.

Still, the issues it (and later Augment storylines) presents are painful to watch, especially as a disabled person whose struggles are largely genetic issues exacerbated by their interaction with one another in my body.

In the first place, while I understand the decision to outlaw genetic modification as planet earth, or even as the Federation, because I understand why the decision was made, I don't feel that that's a proportional response to what happened in the past. As mentioned before, even beneficial genetic augmentations are banned, as seen with the Illyrians. That means that for people with genetic diseases cannot get meaningful help in a time and place where that should definitely be possible.

Looking at what I experience, should I be expected to consume painkillers my entire life? Physical therapy twice a week to keep up the strength in my muscles? Spend time having ligaments and tendons regenerated every so often? When a small genetic alteration could be a cure that doesn't require repeating? Degenerative diseases and conditions will degenerate if you don't continuously control them, even in the utopia of Star Trek.

So in the first place, the complete disallowance of genetic augmentation in the Federation is harmful. But then what do you do with people who were augmented either way, as a humane and just society? Especially when they didn't have a choice in the matter because they were a child? Do you accept them and take care of them, recognising that if you teach a child it is fundamentally different and therefore deserving of ostracisation and scorn, it will start to hate those who are different from it? Will you allow them to lead normal lives, with normal careers, like normal people? Will they be allowed to have children and start families, like normal people? Will you allow them the dignity of a peaceful life?

No, why would you? The ones that turn out poorly are tossed into a hole and forgotten about! The ones that turn out well you presumably don't hear about, because they can hide it better! Ignore the problem exists, why not? Whatever could go wrong?

Which then also becomes difficult to watch as a disabled person, because that's what the "failed" Augments are, they're disabled. Whether they display autistic traits or OCD symptoms or other mental (or physical) impairments, they are disabled. They may or may not have been disabled before their augmentation, but they certainly are now. And so their treatment becomes an issue of how the Federation treats its disabled citizens. And the answer seems to be: not very well!

So the ongoing storylines with Augments, and the 'organic android' storyline in Picard season 1, are two different sides of what is essentially only a debate on disability rights, and whether or not we deserve to exist. It's a conversation that gets so little nuance from the shows, but one that requires it.

The show could have gone the nuanced route. Legalise genetic augmentation so you can regulate it. Outlaw the modification of children and those who cannot consent. Give people the choice to change their bodies, should they desire or see a need to. The better you regulate it, the more you can prevent cases like the people in DS9, the more you can use the techniques to help people, the less you ostracise the people who did get augmented or who would like to get augmented.

But instead, all sides of the conversation within the series are advocating for eugenics, for genocide. Khan and his Augments, wanted to eradicate non-Augments, who they see as lesser, as inhibited, as small. Richard Bashir, and presumably the parents of the other augments, wanted to get rid of their children's disabilities and impairments. And the Federation is trying to eradicate Augments, by denying them lives, livelihoods, by ostracising and scorning them and throwing those you can visibly tell are different into a cell somewhere you don't have to think about them.

And I, as a disabled person, would simply like to watch Star Trek without being reminded that people would want me dead.

#star trek #star trek deep space nine #star trek ds9 #ds9 #augments #julian bashir #genocide mention #eugenics mention #genetic augmentation #khan noonien singh #star trek tos #essay

64 notes · View notes

erandri · 9 months

Text

AUgust Day 1- Sightless

Steve's ears are ringing. No, not just his ears, his whole head is ringing, drowning out the noise around him. He shakes his head but that just makes it worse, and now there's a throbbing in his head beating in time with each pulse.

Just under the throbbing he can feel pain but it's dulled. It feels like the sun shining on him and for the briefest moment he gets a pang of homesickness, for just a moment he remembers the heat of the Hawaiian sun as it beat down on him. Just as soon as the memory comes its gone and just as suddenly comes the full brunt of pain. He screams out against his will. The shock is wearing off now and with it the nice dulling sensation. The warmth he felt seconds ago is now a raging fire, consuming him.

Steve reaches up to his forehead trying to do anything to get rid of the pain. He's not on fire but his hands come away slick with blood. It runs down his hands as a feels around, trying to find where he's wounded but there's blood and pain everywhere and the more he touches his face the worse it gets.

He startles when hands grab him, tearing his hands away from his face and pushing them down and out of the way. Someone is yelling but Steve can't hear them over someone screaming. It's only after some time that he realizes the screaming is coming from him.

When he finally starts to calm himself down he hears the voice still talking to him and zeroes in on it. After a second he realizes that it's Trevor, the teams medic.

"Lieutenant, Steve, can you hear me?" Trevor asks. His voice is firm and calm, it's a voice Steve has heard him use many times as he's patched up other members of their unit. Steve finds himself drawn to it, the even tone calming his breathing.

"I can hear you," he finally rasps out. He's not sure if his voice is raw from the accident or screaming or both but he barely manages to force the words out.

"That's good Steve," Trevor says, still using that even tone. Now that he has something new to focus on Steve can feel him wrapping his head in gauze, the pressure of the compacts helping with some of the pain in his head. "Can you tell me what hurts?"

"Everything. My whole head. What happened?"

Trevor hums and finishes wrapping his head. Steve is pretty sure half his head is covered with bandages, including both of his eyes, and he can feel the fuzziness of painkillers creeping in around the edges of his consciousness. "The convoy was hit by an IED, Lieutenant. Your rig took the full brunt of it."

"Everyone else?"

"The truck flipped, Simmons and Wainwright have some broken bones but they'll be fine. You took the worst of it.

"How bad?" He's almost afraid to ask but he has to know.

"Glass shrapnel to your whole face." As soon as he finishes speaking Steve can hear the far away thumping of helicopter blades. "Looks like your ride is here."

He's trying to sound upbeat but Steve can hear the underling worry starting to seep through his voice. "How bad is it?" He asks again.

There's a long pause before Trevor finally responds with "It's bad."

—

"Steven!" His father calls up the stairs to him and he winces, knowing what's coming next, "Did you track sand all through the house!"

It's a rhetorical question so Steve doesn't even bother to try and answer before his dad continues, yelling at him about how they are having company in less than an hour and he had the house all clean and now he has to clean it again.

"I'll take care of it in a second," he calls downstairs when his dad has finished. There's no response so Steve continues to the bathroom to take his shower.

Twenty minutes later he's downstairs, dressed for company and trying to find the broom.

"I cleaned it up already." His dad says from behind him and Steve sighs.

"I said I would do it."

"I know but," his dad doesn't say anything more but Steve can fill in the blank.

But it's faster for him. But he doesn't want to inconvenience Steve. But it's easier for him to clean it when Steve can't even see the mess he's made.

"Dad, I'm blind, not an invalid." He snaps. He knows his dad means well, but constantly getting picked up after just makes him feel like a child.

The doorbell rings, cutting off any response his dad might have had. He sighs, knowing the conversation won't be continued, and listens as his dad moves to the door to answer it. They're having dinner with his dads new partner, some mainland transplant and his family and Steve is less than enthused about it.

As soon as his dad answers the door Steve's quiet world is filled with a barrage of sound. His dad's partner starts talking immediately, complaining about everything from the afternoon traffic to the sand. In the lulls of the complaints Steve can hear the sounds of small feet walking around the living room. His dad had mentioned that his new partner had a child, a daughter he thinks. Now he wishes that he had paid better attention when his dad was talking about them, he can't even remember his partners name.

Steve takes a breath, savoring his last seconds of alone time in the hall before he goes to go greet their guests.

—

Danny- that's his dad's partners name, Danny Williams- is not what Steve expected. Not that he really had any expectations but if he did, they never would have come close to what Danny is. He's loud, and he takes up so much space, he's constantly reaching out to touch Steve. It was surprising to him at first, the constant little grazes from Danny's hand, but now he expects them. If he's honest with himself he might say that he even likes Danny's little touches.

Most of all though Danny is warm. Every time he talks, every time he touches Steve, he feels that warmth settle over him like a blanket. It's nice. And he's not afraid to say, at least in his own head, that wants more of it.

Grace is amazing too. They've met three times now and every time she has regaled him with things she learned in school, things she did with her mom and Step Stan, or old stories of things they used to do in New Jersey. He is absolutely wrapped around her little finger.

"She calls you her Uncle Steve," Danny says one afternoon. They're out behind his father's house, relaxing after another cook out. His dad has taken Grace down to the waters edge to look for shells, leaving him and Danny alone back at the table.

"Really?" He doesn't even try to stop his smile. It's only been a little over a month since they met and he's been elevated to uncle status. He feels honored.

"Yeah, she loves coming over here. We both do."

Steve tamps down the little flutter in his heart when he hears that. So maybe there are other things that he likes about Danny than his warmth. And maybe there are other places that he imagines Danny touches him other than his arms. But those are thoughts better left for when he's alone.

"Well we like having you both here." He wonders if Danny can hear the unsaid words. That Steve loves having them there. Not for the first time he wishes that he could see Danny, to see the emotions play across his face. To see if Danny looks at him the same way that he's sure he looks at Danny.

—

"I have to go into the office," his dad says, coming into the dining room where he and Danny are finishing their dessert, waiting for his return. It's just the three of them tonight, thanks to Rachel and Step Stan taking Grace on a trip to Denver for Stan's job.

"Anything I need to do?" Danny asks. His chair scrapes against the floor and Steve imagines it's because he's stood up, ready to get back to work.

"No, no," his dad protests, "just some paperwork I forgot to sign to close the Kekoa case. You stay here and finish dinner with Steve."

His dad has a tone as he encourages Danny to stay but he doesn't think much of it. It is odd however that he forgot to sign some paperwork. He doesn't think he can remember any other time his dad got called back into the office to sign anything. He doesn't question it though, not if it means getting to spend some time alone with Danny.

"Are you sure?" Danny asks but they can all hear in his tone that he's only asking because he's supposed to.

"I'm sure," his dad says, "I might be a while so don't wait up."

"Okay," Steve says, waving in the direction of his dad's voice. Seconds later he hears the door open and close and then he and Danny are alone.

—

It's the first time that he and Danny have been by themselves since they met and Steve feels a jolt of nerves at the idea. He doesn't know what to say now that it's just the two of them so he shoves a fork full of the cake in his mouth to pass time until he thinks of something.

"I think this is my fault," Danny says, breaking the silence for him.

"How is my dad forgetting to sign paperwork your fault?" He asks, genuinely confused.

"I don't think there is paperwork. I think he just wanted to give us some alone time."

Steve freezes. His dad wanted to give them alone time? Why? Did his dad know about his feeling for Danny? He's been trying for months to keep his feelings hidden.

"I may have asked your dad if you were seeing anyone." Danny continues before Steve can spiral too much and now he's frozen for a whole new reason.

"You wanted to know if I was seeing anyone? Why?" He asks, his pulse racing. He wonders if Danny can hear his heart beating. It sounds like a drum beat to his own ears, counting time until Danny answers him.

"I wanted to know if there might be any chance for me to ask you out." Danny says it so non chalantly that Steve almost misses the vibration of his leg shaking under the table. It settles something in him, knowing that Danny is just as nervous as he is.

"I'm not… and there is." He says and the vibration from Danny's leg stops.

"So next Friday?"

"I'm available," he says maybe a little too fast.

"Okay. Great," Danny breathes, Steve can hear the joy and relief in his voice. A second later he hears Danny's chair push back and him step around the table. Steve can sense Danny come to a stop just in front of him. And turns his body so that they're face to face. "Can I?"

Steve doesn't know what Danny is asking for but he nods his consent anyway. A second later he feels Danny's hand on his shoulder, the heat from him scorching him through his shirt. Steve's heart races as Danny's hand runs higher, moving up his neck until his fingers can curl in Steve hair. Steve pushes his head into it but Danny moves his head, tilting his chin upward.

"Can I kiss you?" He can feel Danny's breath as he speaks and knows that he must be just inches away. Steve is already moving as he says "Yes," and crashes their lips together.

---

I don't really know where I was going with this. There was more I wanted to add but it would have taken too long and I wanted to keep this a quick prompt. It's also the first time I've written anything in well over a year and I'm rusty. Anyway, let me know what you think?

#Erandri writes things #au august #mcdanno #h50 #h50 fanfic #one hour prompt #mcdanno fic

37 notes · View notes

spiciestpotatoes · 16 days

Note

Excited for the new tummy doctor fic

Ask and you shall receive. I've been thinking of posting another part, but I hadn't had the motivation to do so until this ask.

You can check the first part of the series out here:

If you want to see more of these, feel free to send suggestions for patients who might stumble to Lily's door!

Tummy Clinic Chronicles

Patient #2

Things were still slow in Lily's clinic. While she hadn't had many patients, she was still grateful for the few that came by. It seems that more people are realizing that this is not an all-around clinic. One could be surprised how many people actually experienced tummy issues on the daily. It seemed that every patient she treated had a friend or two who also suffered from one stomach related thing or another.

As she was dusting her office, she heard what sounded like a frantic knock on her door. She quickly went to the door to see what it was and opened it to find a young girl in a hoodie and sweatpants standing outside, arms crossed firmly around her middle. As soon as the doors opened, the girl blurted. "Hi, uh, I am so sorry to interrupt, I was sent here by my friend. Anne Brown, she said to come here for any stomach issues. Is there any way you could take me in today? It doesn't have to be right now, I'm just in so much pain-". The girl seemed very flustered and nervous. Lily opened the door wider, smiling to the girl, and said calmly, "It's okay, I have no patients in right now. Come in, please."

Relief was written on the girl's face as she came into the office. She took a seat in one of the armchairs as Lily took her information. As they were talking, Lily noticed the girls tummy making all sorts of noises, the thought of feeling that storm under her hands warming something inside of her.

"Could you tell me more about how you're feeling?" Lily finally asked, finished with creating a record for Melissa, the young 20 year old sitting in front of her.

"My tummy is incredibly upset, it's bloated and really uncomfortable. It's like I can feel something moving around in there and it hurts terribly." From the sounds coming from the girl's belly, audible even from that far away and in spite of the hoodie she had on, Lily assumed this was something food related.

"Do you have these kinds of issues often?" Lily asked.

"No, only occasionally, although when it happens it's an absolute nightmare, painkillers rarely do anything."

"What have you eaten in the last 24 hours?"

"Oh uh, well, last night I went out with some friends for pizza and cheesy breadsticks. Since I woke up with my tummy already upset, I didn't want to have anything that would sit heavy, so I just had some cereal for breakfast.

Lactose intolerance. That's exactly what it sounded like based off of the food she had last consumed. As Lily pondered the possibility of this being nothing more than an upset tummy caused by a bunch of dairy, Melissa leaned forward further, her tummy letting out a loud rumble that seemed to shake her insides. Lily simply couldn't let her go without feeling the turmoil in the girl's belly.

"Alright Melissa, why don't we head into the examination room so I can take a quick look at your stomach and then we can discuss possible solutions?"

Melissa nodded and followed Lily into the examination room. As she laid on the table, Lily asked her to lift up her hoodie and as she did, Lily found that her belly was a lot more bloated than she anticipated. The band of her sweatpants was a sliver away from starting to cut into her tummy. Melissa grimaced as loud rumbles continued to erupt from her middle. "Okay Melissa, I'm just going to feel around your abdomen just to see what we're dealing with here and check for any abnormalities. " Lily explained as she was placing her hands onto Melissa's belly.

As if in response to her touch, Melissa's belly erupted with more noise than before, making Melissa shut her eyes as it was obviously causing her more pain than she was dealing with until then. It was absolutely wonderful, the sensation beneath Lily's hands was nothing short of blissful as she felt all the commotion deep inside. Each press of her fingers caused an immediate reaction beneath. The lower portion of her tummy seemed especially tender which only confirmed Lily's suspicions of lactose intolerance. "How does it feel when I press here?" Lily asked while rubbing circles over her lower tummy.

"Ahh, it's.. ugh... I can feel it cramp in response. It feels like I might need the bathroom soon..."

Even though she wanted to stand there and feel her tummy for another eternity, Lily didn't want rumours of her patient having an accident in her office to spread so she ended the examination. "Okay, I think you're most likely just lactose intolerant. From what you say that you've eaten last, which was a lot of dairy, I think that's your main issue. ", she couldn't help but comfortingly rub her tummy as it continued growling, using a bit of this time to still enjoy the chaos inside and simultaneously offer comfort to Melissa, "I recommend staying away from dairy for a while and seeing if the problems persist. If they do, contact me and we can set up an appointment to look at further causes. As for your pains right now, unfortunately there isn't much I can do for you. You should feel better once all of that food is out of your system. So just go home and try to rest."

Melissa looked grateful as she pulled her hoodie over her stomach, clutching it with her arms once again. "Thank you, doc. I was worried it might be something far worse." She smiled at Lily, and as she was headed out of her office, she stopped to ask,"Is there a bathroom near here?" embarrassment flushed her face. Lily only comfortingly smiled back. "Yes, down the hall to your right."

#belly pain #tummy ache #tummy pain #belly ache kink #cramps #belly massage #tummy doctor #stomach pain #stomach ache

8 notes · View notes

sollucets · 18 days

Text

nine people i'd like to get to know better

i've done this tag several times over the last (checks notes) couple years???? and i do appreciate how it basically is different every time hehe. tagged by dearest @icouldhyperfixatehim & @ranchthoughts.

3 ships

these days i am thinking often and fondly of wenzhou, fate couple (myungha/yeowoon.... it's so charming that their portmanteau name is a lil pun), and aylinluna. (and jwds. they are haunting the narrative where the narrative is like my hindbrain. sorry i needed four it is what it is)

First ship

very firmly contestshipping from pokemon. i think we should bring sillier ship names like that back frankly... back in MY day we had endless names of hundreds and hundreds of silly puns that barely anyone could remember and we LIKED it

Last song

i opened my spotify and it is on unknown by nct dream, which was on the playlist liz @hoppipolla made for me while i was in the er (consider this a tag if you like hehe 💜)

Currently reading

i am not reading any real books right now. shame shame yes i know. i'll use this space to recommend some things as usual

one ongoing fic -- "on darkness" by agrazza, an ongoing bg3 dark urge/astarion longfic about the underdark with lots of fun plot. it is fully 265k right now though so i recommend consuming it in bites (lol) as i have

one finished fic -- "goodbye forever (until next time)", written anon though i think their username is in the fic notes now, the boston/nick fic of all time. historically and notably made me cry about fisting. it is ao3 locked so you need an account

one poem -- "invocation" by w.s. merman. it's very short, so here's another; "the waiting" by stephen dunn (my body was an ache, a silence)

Last movie

i really don't watch many movies. i'm going to bend the rules and allow my rewatch of the 2019 danielle brooks much ado about nothing from a couple months ago count for this slot -- go forth and find it on dailymotion but you didnt hear that from me

Currently Craving

functional painkillers. augh sorry to be a downer i do also crave the embrace of the ocean. oh i did it again uh. i crave. i crave firstkhao series gmmtv part two where are you

i will tag in @philologique & liz (body of post. get doubletagged) & @markpakin if u all like. it's not nine people but i can only be So brave you understand 💜

#rowan lore

8 notes · View notes

moonchildreads · 1 year

Text

small town

Chapter 12 - Fortress Around Your Heart

IN THIS CHAPTER: A mysterious card, allergy pills, and Wayne conspires against his nephew [7.1k]

WARNINGS: eddie being a lil sick (nothing serious), vague mentions of financial hardship

A/N: a huge shout out and thank you to two of my fairy godmothers and biggest cheerleaders, my beloved @justahappycloud and my loveliest @gutterratt for vibechecking wayne's dialogue in this chapter. it takes a village to build a small town! i love you both, deeply, madly, truly.

masterlist - prev - next | playlist

And if I built this fortress around your heart Encircled you in trenches and barbed wire Then let me build a bridge

Tuesday, May 6th - 1986

Five days. Five days without a single drop of rain. Not a light shower, not a thunderstorm, not a drizzle in sight, and Dottie felt like she was losing her goddamned mind. Before moving to Hawkins, she was sure she dreaded rainy days; New York smelled like a sewer, the subway was muggy as hell, and she was perpetually tired of people bumping their umbrellas into her head when she walked home from school. But rainy days in Indiana? Absolute bliss. She’d gotten so used to the fresh smell of wet soil, to sitting on her window seat with a book, a moody record playing in the background, thunder rumbling and lulling her to sleep. Rainy days meant driving home with Eddie and Gareth, huddling under tin roofs with Jeff for warmth while Donny smoked a cig, sharing a hand-knitted blanket with her Dad while they consumed anything and everything that was on TV after dinner. Rain was comforting and homey, and as the weather continued to get warmer and humidity levels kept climbing, she couldn’t wait until that night’s forecasted thunderstorm to hit the small town she had grown to love in only a couple of months. Eddie, on the other hand, was once more contemplating on moving to the middle of the desert and never having to see a raindrop again in his life.

“Man, you look like shit,” Gareth said, sliding into his usual seat at their lunch table.

“I’ve been telling him to go to the nurse since second period but you know how he is,” Donny shook his head disapprovingly.

“I don’t need to go to the nurse,” Eddie told him, accepting the sandwich Donny was offering so Eddie would share his chocolate covered peanuts with him in return. “It’s just allergies.”

“I think I have allergy meds in my locker if you want some,” Dottie said.

“Why do you always have pills on you? Are you a fuckin’ pharmacist or what?” Gareth teased her.

“Okay, asshole, next time all those weird fumes in the lab give you a headache, get your own painkillers,” she said, pushing his lunch tray away from him and down the table, just barely out of his reach.

“D’you really think they’ll help? Your meds?” Eddie asked, finally caving in, eyes squinting under the fluorescent cafeteria lights.

“I mean, I’m not a doctor, but it’s worth a try. They make you really sleepy though, so maybe take them after school?”

“Okay,” he rubbed his eyes with two fists. “I’ll take them when we get home.”

During the past couple of years, Eddie had developed this random allergy that seemed to get progressively worse whenever the weather changed. As the air was becoming more and more oppressive with the kind of humidity one forgets could be experienced after the colder months, Eddie was more often than not showing up to school with red eyes that had nothing to do with the weed he liked to indulge in after hours. Eating his sandwich and peanuts without really tasting anything because of how clogged his sinuses were, he considered stealing a wad of toilet paper to survive his upcoming Biology lesson after depleting Dottie’s generous stash of tissues during their back-to-back shared periods before lunch. The skin on the sides of his nose was becoming raw and red from blowing it so many times, and his head felt like it was stuck inside a bucket, his ears sensitive to loud noises and his throat scratchy.

By the time the final bell had rung and they were driving towards his trailer, Dottie theorized he might have developed a cold last Saturday morning when his water heater had died on him mid shower. Thankfully, Wayne was nothing if not resourceful and had gotten it up and running again that same day, but if Eddie had really gotten sick from washing himself with freezing water, there was little anyone could do except wait for the illness to pass on its own.

“Boy, you look like shit,” Wayne said from his armchair, watching his nephew shrug off his coat as he stepped into the trailer.

“Thanks, Wayne, hadn’t noticed,” Eddie replied dryly.

“Come on, let’s get you to bed,” Dottie started guiding him towards his room.

“No! No, you can’t go in there,” he immediately blocked her path, arms braced on the walls of the small hallway to stop her from marching on.

“Ed, I don’t care if it’s mes-”

“It’s not- I mean, it is a mess but-” he blubbered, watching her cross her arms and cock her hip to the side in defiance. “Nuh-uh, nope, can’t have you seeing that shit right now. No way.”

“Eddie.”

“You can’t argue with a sick man, princess, that’s illegal.”

“God, you’re-,” she threw her hands in the air, exasperated. “Fine, have it your way. Go sit on the couch.”

“Yes, ma’am,” he conceded, sinking into the cushions next to Wayne who was very amused by the entire situation but had the decency to act like he wasn’t paying attention. “Where do you keep your stash?”

“There’s a hidden pocket at the back, look for small round yellow pills.”

Dottie busied herself rinsing a mug in the kitchen sink and filling it up with water from a pitcher that was in the fridge while he snooped around her belongings, her brown corduroy backpack pulled into his lap. He was taking a couple of notebooks out to get better access to the small concealed zipper sewn onto the back panel when a baby pink envelope fell from one of them, landing next to his ratty sneakers. Always a curious one, Eddie picked it up, instantly noticed red hearts on the glossy paper inside and hurried to put it back where it had fallen from before she could catch him being nosy.

Trying to focus back on his initial task, he began rifling through the contents of the pocket, pulling out of a waterproof pouch that held various types of pills and tiny plastic bottles. He would have asked what they were for, always eager to know more about Dottie, but his brain was stuck in a constant loop of questions. Was that a love letter? Does she know who it’s from? There weren’t any names on it, is it a secret admirer situation? Why wouldn’t she tell me? Is it-

“Here you go,” she kneeled on the carpet next to his feet, pushing the plastic McDonald’s mug into his line of sight. “Did you find them?”

“Uh- yeah, these ones?” he asked, shaking a blister with pills that matched the description she’d given, making them rattle.

“What’s that?” Wayne asked, pretending like he hadn’t noticed his nephew having a mild stroke in front of his very eyes by the mere sight of an envelope.

“My allergy meds,” Dottie explained, resting an arm on Eddie’s knees. “I get really sniffly when seasons start changing so I thought maybe they’d help with Eddie’s too. I take those once a day when it starts acting up, and then I also have a nasal spray. I used to have two different ones, but I ran out of the prescribed one and haven’t replaced it yet.”

“You take a lot of pills, kid?” the older man said, curious.

“I try not to ‘cause I’ve heard it’s bad, like the bugs build resistance to the drugs or something? But I was a babysitter so I got used to carrying stuff around. Can’t really look after a screaming toddler if I’ve got a sudden headache, you know?” she explained before turning to look up at her friend. “You can keep those if you want, I’ve got a ton at home. They’re cheaper than a doctor’s appointment.”

“Thanks,” he said, staring at the blister. There were only three pills missing, and one of them was currently inside his body. “D’you wanna get started on homework?”

“We can take a day off if you’re not feeling well.”

“No, no, I’m okay. I can work on my drawings, I guess? Something that doesn’t require a lot of thinking would be great right now.”

“Okay, but you’re definitely gonna need a nap in about an hour,” she patted his knee and got up from the floor, moving to sit next to him before busying herself with her own work.

“I’m gonna go make some soup,” Wayne announced, shuffling into the kitchen before muttering to himself. “See if that saves us a visit to the doctor’s office.”

Wayne Munson was a simple man with simple needs. He considered himself lucky in the sense that he’d always had a roof over his head, and he’d always been able to provide for those he loved, fancy cooking be damned. He didn’t need three course meals or top of the line equipment to make his boy feel better as long as he knew how to make a good chicken rice soup, just like the one his mother used to make. They might not have lived in a real house with a big backyard and a bedroom for both, but as long as his meals were warm, his beers were cold and Eddie was smiling, it was enough for him.

He’d always thought of his nephew as a happy kid, one that chose to see the best in everything even when life had dealt him shitty card after shitty card, but Wayne had to admit that in the twelve years he’d been responsible for Eddie, he had never seen him act the way he did when Dottie was around. The youngest Munson was a ball of energy, always gesticulating wildly, not knowing how to control his own voice whenever he got going, leg perpetually bouncing when he was quiet. It was strange to see how subdued he was whenever his newest friend was around, and even more so considering she could also be loud and animated when given the opportunity. There was a gentle quality to their interactions, as if they were both toeing an invisible line that separated them, wishing the other one would cross it first but being afraid of overstepping.

As the old man leaned to get a couple of carrots that desperately needed to be eaten from the bottom of the fridge, he noticed once again the water pitcher on the door. He had never once seen Eddie choose water over any kind of cheap soda he could get his hands on, and yet this ancient plastic pitcher that hadn’t been used in years had somehow found its way into their fridge when Dottie started hanging out at the trailer. Wayne had only known the girl for a few short days, but felt that their shared time had already been enough to form a strong opinion. He liked Dottie. He liked how she was simultaneously polite but quick to make herself at home, how she was always helping around just because she wanted to and not because anyone asked her to, how everything she did came with a heap of kindness. He liked how she kept up with Eddie’s humor, how they calmed each other down, how she made him smile and want to try harder. And perhaps, above all, he liked how easily she dissipated Eddie’s fears of not being enough. Wayne loved the boys in the Hellfire Club, he really did, but he knew that his nephew compared himself to them, with their loving families, their houses in residential neighborhoods, their homemade lunches that did not consist of leftovers or whatever snack was left in the pantry.

The eldest Munson wasn’t one to pry, but he knew something was different with Dottie when she showed up on Monday with a handful of coupons from that day’s newspaper. “Ed said he likes mushrooms and my Dad can’t eat them without getting sick so I brought you these. I hate when coupons go to waste. Do you like mushroom soup, Mr. Wayne?” she had asked. It might have been an assessment made with personal bias, but Wayne was certain that no kid who didn’t go through any financial turmoil in their lives could be so into couponing that they hated not using them before their expiration date.

Around 45 minutes after Eddie took his medicine, his speech started to slur and his eyes kept trying to close themselves no matter how hard he fought to keep them open.

“Time for a nap, sleepy head,” Dottie pushed his thigh with her sock-clad foot.

“M’fine, don’t worry ‘bout it,” he said, and immediately yawned.

“You were saying?”

“Ugh, fine. Jus’ a short nap, gotta get you home,” he muttered, tucking himself into the couch cushions.

“Ed, you need to rest if you want to get better,” she insisted, pulling him onto his feet with her hands on his wrists. “That means sleeping in your bed, not on the couch.”

“Room’s dirty,” he said, standing on wobbly feet. “Don’ wan’ you to look.”

“Okay, I won’t look. I swear.”

Satisfied with a promise that she obviously did not intend to keep, Eddie let her lead him towards his room at the other end of the trailer. Nothing could have prepared her for what she saw when she opened the door. It was like his closet had exploded onto the floor, clothes strewn everywhere, no indication as to which ones were clean and which ones were not. His bed was unmade and his bedsheets were rumpled into a ball in the middle of the mattress, an overflowing ashtray sat on his bedside table and a thin sheen of dust covered the objects he clearly did not use very often. Dottie helped him shrug his hoodie off and helped him get comfortable under his blankets, already making a list of things she could straighten up without waking him up once he was safely on his way to DreamLand. He turned to his side and coughed a few times.

“I’ll get you some water,” she said, but before she could stand, he shot out a hand to grab her wrist.

“No, stay,” he muttered. Dottie was very familiar with the particular kind of drowsy associated with her allergy meds and knew that he was somewhere between awake and completely unconscious. He was gonna be out like a light in a few if she had her math right. “M’legs feel weird.”

“They feel heavy?” he nodded. “Go to sleep, silly. You’re gonna feel better when you wake up.”

“Okay,” was the last thing he said before his eyes finally closed and his breathing evened out.

Dottie knew it wasn’t right, but she couldn’t help but stare at him for a few moments as he slept. He looked so peaceful, his long eyelashes almost touching the top of his cheeks, soft freckles decorating his skin. He didn’t move when she stood up, didn’t even flinch when she tucked his hair behind his ear and pulled the covers up higher. Surveying the room around her, she spotted a white plastic bag underneath his desk and quickly retrieved it, starting to clean up some of his mess. First thing to go into the bag were the cigarette butts; then the few cans lying around, the crumpled snack wrappings and pencil shavings on his desk. She was in the middle of picking up a denim jacket strewn on his desk while suppressing a snort at the busted handcuffs hanging from the wall - and oh, did she want to ask about them some time - when she noticed a black shadow hovering above her head.

“Oh, shit,” she whispered to herself, recognizing instantly what it was.

In the corner of Eddie’s room, displayed like a piece of art, was the most likely cause of his long-lived allergies: black mold. Dottie could have kicked herself at not paying attention when she walked in; the stain was so big she wondered how she had missed it in the first place. Immediately remembering her Uncle Johnny’s retelling of his encounter with black mold behind an old broken washing machine back in ‘69, she looked back at Eddie wondering if he would listen if she told him to get rid of it. Judging by the state of his bedroom, he wouldn’t, so she steeled herself for what was possibly gonna be a very awkward conversation and hoped to the stars she’d come out on the other side as a victor.

“Mr. Wayne?” she asked, stepping back into the main area of the trailer. “I- I’m sorry, I don’t want to be disrespectful but did you know there’s mold in Eddie’s bedroom?”

“Yeah,” he scratched his head, lowering the fire on the stove to let the soup simmer. “Been tellin’ Ed he should clean that up but you know how he is. I think the only reason he listened when I told him to patch up the roof was so it wouldn’t rain on that fancy guitar of his.”

“Sounds like Eddie,” she smiled. “In any case, if he’s not gonna do it himself, would you be okay with me cleaning it up for him? I think that’s what’s causing his allergies and he could get very sick if he keeps breathing that stuff in.”

“Don’t know what my nephew has told you but you are a guest here, not a maid,” Wayne said, pointing with his head at the trash bag in her hand.

“I’m a friend,” she said, like it was the simplest fact known to man. “This is what friends do for each other. They help out, even if they are as stubborn as Eddie. Especially when they are as stubborn as Eddie.”

“Don’t I know that,” he snorted, his features softening. “He can be hard to be around sometimes, but he’s got a good heart.”

“Yeah, he does. I can see where he gets it from.”

Wayne liked to think of himself as a man of few but intentional words. As he looked at the young girl in front of him, he realized that they both knew exactly what was happening in this conversation and they were both on the same page. Eddie didn’t often ask for help; in fact, help was almost always simply thrust upon him disguised as a nonchalant act or a trade, and the eldest Munson knew that this request was as much for his nephew as it was for Dottie. He stirred the soup for a few seconds, and finally set down his wooden spoon.

“Y’know he’s gonna get mad when he sees what you did.”

“I’d rather deal with an angry Ed than have him start coughing up blood,” Dottie said. “But I won’t do it if it bothers you. This is your home and I’m aware I’m overstepping just by asking about it.”

“Well, it’s like you said, right? Friends help out,” he shrugged, the corner of his mouth lifting into half a smile. “So what do you need?”

“I just need him out of the trailer for an hour. He’s not gonna let me do it otherwise, he didn’t even want me in there in the first place.”

“I’ll get him out of your hair, don’t worry ‘bout it. Need a ride home?”

“Oh, no, thank you. You’re busy with dinner, I can ask my Dad to pick me up if you let me borrow your phone for a second.”

“All yours, kid,” he pointed behind her to where the phone was hanging from and went back to his cooking.

Fifteen minutes later, Wayne was in the middle of explaining his soup recipe to Dottie when a car horn interrupted their talk. The older man walked her outside and waved at James, who waved back at him from the front seat of his car.

“Tell Ed I said bye!” she said, skipping down the front steps to the trailer.

“Bye, Dot. See you on Thursday,” he said, resting an arm on the door frame. “Say hi to your dad for me.”

Dottie stopped at the last step for half a second before hurrying up the stairs again and wrapping her arms around the eldest Munson with a bright smile on her face. She squeezed him tightly before letting go, her expression sincere and yet a little bit embarrassed.

“Thank you, Mr. Wayne. See you on Thursday,” was all she said, before disappearing into her dad’s car and leaving down the dirt road.

He watched them leave, sitting on his doorstep and fishing a cig out of the front pocket of his work shirt. He chuckled to himself after taking the first drag, thinking about his nephew taking a nap in his room, about the black stain he kept telling him to clean up to no avail, and about the girl who refused to take no for an answer. About how there was definitely something different about Dorothy Burke, and how maybe, just maybe, what separated her from all the other kids her age was exactly what made her so similar to Eddie after all.

Wednesday, May 7th - 1986

Hawkins High’s library wasn’t as big as her former school’s library, but had so far proved sufficient enough for all her researching needs. Thus, Dottie found herself perusing the Home Economics section after claiming to need a book for an essay, resorting to little white lies in the hopes that Eddie wouldn’t look too much into them. He seemed to be in brighter spirits that day, still sniffling and occasionally coughing into his elbow, but his eyes were less swollen and teary with the help of his newly acquired allergy meds. Still, Dottie insisted (perhaps a bit too much, but he wasn’t about to fight her about it) that he take a nap during their shared free period in an effort to get back to full health as quickly as possible. He didn’t even think about how unusual it was for her to even suggest it before resting his head on his balled up jacket, arms folded on top of their secluded table at the back of the room.

“Do you need any help, sweetie?” Mrs. James, the school’s librarian, said, startling Dottie from her trance scanning the table of contents in what looked to be yet another useless book. “You’ve been going through every shelf in this section, maybe I can help you find what you need?”

“Oh, thank you, I didn’t think to ask,” Dottie smiled at the old lady. “I’m trying to do some research on mold and I’m stumped.”

“Mold? Why, I think you ought to be looking in the science section then! Is this for a Biology class? Maybe you can ask Mr. Brooke if he has any recommendations.”

“Actually, I was looking into mold removal for Home Ec? You know, like in old houses or bathrooms!”

“Hmmm, can’t say I recall any books like that off the top of my head but let me check. There must be something about home repairs somewhere,” she walked away towards the front desk, muttering to herself.

Dottie followed her into the main area of the library, always keeping an eye on the path towards the table where Eddie was resting upon, blissfully unconscious and unaware of his surroundings. Mrs. James rummaged through a set of drawers full of neat cards, nodded once and promptly disappeared through a back door behind her desk. Dottie waited, her hopes dwindling as she stared at the clock on the wall counting down the minutes until the bell rang.

She was distracted, rapping her chipped sparkly red nails on the wooden surface in front of her when she felt a weight settle across her shoulders, and smelled her sleepy friend before she even saw him. Eddie’s clothes generally had faint traces of smoke hidden behind Old Spice after shave, generously applied cheap woodsy cologne and gentle laundry detergent, his battle vest adding a hint of pungent weed to the mix. She had only noticed a few days prior that his hair always smelled like green apple in the mornings, most likely thanks to his predilection of showering as a way of waking himself up. Dottie knew that if it had belonged to anyone else, she wouldn’t have found the mix of aromas as charming as she did - she thought of it as a side effect of that newly discovered pesky little crush she consciously chose not to dwell too much about.

“Well, that was a hell of a nap,” he muttered into her hair, voice and limbs still heavy with sleep.

“And you woke up on your own before the bell rang, I’m impressed,” she said.

“So… what are we waitin’ for?”

“Mrs. James is looking something up for me in the back, you can wait at the table if you want.”

“Nah, I’m cozy,” he said, putting all his weight onto her shoulders, her knees wobbling a little bit before she caught herself on the desk.

Dottie was sure he’d dozed off while standing up and the way he jumped when the bell rang didn’t really convince her otherwise. It was still ringing when Mrs. James reappeared from wherever she had been hiding in her backrooms, a small book with a bit of a lengthy title in white letters at the front. She waved it around as if it were a valuable carnival prize.

“I’m not sure it’ll be of much help, but I think it’s the closest you’ll find here,” she admitted. “Just sign this, you can fill in the rest when you return it. You don’t want to be late for class!”

“Thank you!” Dottie hurried to sign the form attached to a clipboard and tucked the book into her chest to hide the front from Eddie. “I’ll let you know if it helped.”

“Oh, please do! If it doesn’t, maybe you could check the local library? It’s much bigger than this one, I bet they’ll have what you need.”

“I will, thank you. I’ll bring this one back tomorrow, I promise.”

“You can keep it for a week, sweetie, don’t worry. Now go on, get to class you two!”

“Did you get the feeling she was trying to get rid of us or was it just me?” Eddie muttered, a sly smile on his face while they gathered their things and left the library.

“Just doing her duty in helping you to graduate, that’s all,” Dottie joked back, shoving her newly acquired book deep into her backpack.

“See you at lunch?” he said, walking backwards through the quickly emptying hallway.

“Of course! See ya!”

She watched him nod once and bolt towards his Latin class when the second warning bell rang. Dottie took a second to take a deep breath before walking into her World History classroom where Jeff was already waiting for her, his usual calm smile on his face. She really didn’t like hiding things from her friends, but since she only had Eddie’s benefit in mind, she hoped he wouldn’t be as pissed off as she feared he would be when he found out.

Gareth’s house had big windows on the west side that opened up to a medium sized backyard, thick green grass extending until the end of the property. His parents had debated on building a pool back when the kids were younger, but as it turned out, pools were much more expensive than what they were willing to spend at that moment. They had ended up getting a blow up pool that served its purpose perfectly for a few hot summers until Gareth crashed his bike into it at age 12 and punctured it.

Eddie felt marginally better than the day before and was looking forward to taking his second dose of allergy meds once he got home, but for now, he was content to tuck himself into his friend’s armchair and read through Jeff’s Biology notes. Besides, having the girl he was hard crushing on in his line of sight was always a plus. Dottie, on the other hand, wished Eddie would just fall the fuck asleep so she could skim her damn book without him noticing. Homeowner’s Quick-repair and Emergency Guide by Max Alth was still carefully hidden between her other possessions in her backpack when Jeff plopped down on the seat across from hers at the dining table.

“Heyyyy,” he said, awkwardly.

“Hey?”

“I, uh, I need advice on something but if you don’t wanna talk about it, just… tell me to fuck off, okay? I won’t hold it against you, I promise.”

“Okay?” Dottie stared at him like he had grown two heads overnight.

“So, I remember you mentioning you have a book about Victorian flower language?” he waited for her to nod in confirmation before continuing. “I was hoping you could tell me what to get, y’know, for Mother’s Day.”

“Oh! Of course, I’d love to help! What did you have in mind?” she smiled, understanding now where his hesitance was coming from.

“Just something nice, doesn’t really matter if it’s expensive. Bobby’s coming home, said he’s pitching in.”

“Aw, that’s cool. I’m sure your Mom will be happy to have both her boys home.”

“Yeah, I guess,” he shrugged. “Haven’t told him about Virginia yet, I’m kinda terrified he’s gonna get pissy about it and ruin the day for Mom. He can be… intense about the military stuff, even more than my Dad. It’s so annoying.”

“Well, that’s his own fucking problem,” she scoffed. “You didn’t do anything wrong, not your fault he can’t see you are not a kid anymore and can make your own choices. But never mind Bobby, we were talking about your Mom! I’ll bring my book to school tomorrow, we can look through it together if you want, find something cute.”

“That sounds great, thank you!” he smiled wide, his braces full on display. He couldn’t wait until he got them removed. “Are you… Like… Man, I don’t know if this is okay to ask-”

“Jeff, it’s okay,” she patted his hand across the table. “You can ask, I don’t mind.”

“I was just wondering if you celebrate or anything like that.”

“I do, in my own way.”

From his comfy spot on the couch, Eddie watched Dottie pull her backpack into her lap and rummage through her books, finding a baby pink envelope between them and sliding it over to Jeff with a shy smile. His heart rate picked up, could it be…? Was she showing him what she had received or was she giving it to Jeff? Maybe there had never been a secret admirer, maybe… maybe Dottie had always just liked Jeff and Eddie had been so far up his own ass he’d never noticed it before. And who could blame her? Jeff was kind, gentle in ways that Eddie couldn’t fathom being. He was going to a good college, had a bright future ahead of him, came from a nice family. He watched them talk; Dottie leaned over the table, pointing something out to him on the card. Jeff was polite, a fantastic singer, a great friend. One of Eddie’s best friends, actually. Fuck, I’m such an idiot, I can’t ruin this for them, I’m-

Jeff carefully put the card back into the envelope and gave it back to her, stopping to grab her hand, giving it a comforting squeeze. Eddie’s pulse returned somewhat to its normal rhythm when Dottie put the pink paper inside her backpack, tucked into the same spot she’d taken it out from. Donny got up from his spot on the floor, books forgotten, and slid himself into the chair next to Dottie’s, arm resting behind her. She leaned into his shoulder using his arm as a neck pillow, the three friends now engaged in animated conversation. Eddie caught a few words as their voices raised: the boys were trying to talk her into going to next week’s gig at The Hideout. He looked down at Jeff’s Biology notes resting on his thighs and ran a hand over his eyes. Everything was normal, nothing had changed, and yet everything felt different for him anyways.

Eddie had always been proud of his ability to hold his shit together no matter what. He considered himself an expert in bottling up, shoving things under the rug until they could no longer be seen. But this mystery card situation? It was absolutely messing him up. If he had discovered something about himself in the past two days, it was that even though he wasn’t a jealous asshole, he could still be a jealous man, and that knowledge embarrassed him to the bone. He didn’t like the way all his insecurities screamed at him whenever he compared himself to his best friends, detailing all his shortcomings and failures, constricting his chest and leaving him breathless. In his mad panic, a lone image of having to watch Dottie fall in love with someone else while he got left behind kicked him square in the chest.

Dottie turned her head to the side, looked at him sitting alone on the couch and beckoned him over with her hand, a soft smile gracing her features. He realized right there, as loud thunder cracked open the sky and the long awaited rain made its return to Hawkins, that he could take a step to the side if she needed him to. He would let her be happy with someone else, even if it was with one of his best friends. Even if it pained him to imagine it. But he also realized that Eddie Munson wasn’t going to go down without trying. Once they were alone tomorrow, he was gonna ask about the card and if her answer turned out to be less than favorable for him, he’d be supportive and encouraging. He would be a good friend, just like she’d always been to him. And most importantly, if she happened to choose Jeff, or Gareth, or Donny, he would never let it come between him and his band mates. All his friendships would remain intact, he would make damn sure of it. But he couldn’t quit before he tried.

Eddie joined them at the table, mirroring Donny’s position and letting his arm fall behind on Jeff’s chair. Jeff leaned into his shoulder and batted his eyes at him, clearly making fun of Dottie who chucked an eraser at his chest in response. Everything will work itself out, Eddie thought, watching Gareth pull up a chair to the table. We’ll be fine.

“Honey, can you set the table?” James called from the kitchen, hands busy finishing dinner.

“Yeah,” Dottie replied, barely loud enough for him to hear her.

James took the chicken out of the oven, setting it on the empty stove top and transferred it from the sheet pan to a more appropriate container that wouldn’t burn the surface of the wooden table when placed upon the tablecloth. He was adding the final touches to his roasted potatoes when he lifted his head and noticed his daughter hadn’t yet moved from her spot on the couch, legs dangling from the arm, book propped on her thighs. This wasn’t an unusual sight in the Burke household; Dottie had an affinity towards never sitting like a normal person, something that he’d always found extremely amusing. James leaned out of the passthrough window to call her attention again.

“Can Her Majesty please set the table today if she wishes to eat while it’s hot?”

“I’m coming, hold on,” she finally got up, book still in her hand and being held open by her thumb in the middle of the gutter.

“What are you reading?”

“Something I got from the school’s library. I think it’s a bust but it’s the only one they had on this topic.”

“What topic?” he asked, and Dottie lifted the cover so he could see. “Homeowner’s Guide? Did you buy a house I wasn’t aware of?”

“Yeah, you know that blue Victorian mansion on Morehead Street? Got it at a discount because someone got murdered in there,” Dottie said in a deadpan tone.

“You hate haunted houses but you’re gonna live in one?” he snorted, watching her come in and out of the kitchen to the living room carrying plates and cups with only one hand.

“Nah, I’m gonna fix it up and turn a profit.”

“That’s my girl,” he said, proudly.

Once they were seated at the dinner table, plates full and cheeks stuffed with homemade bread, Dottie went back to her reading, going back and forth from the table of contents to various pages she was marking with her fingers. This was also not unusual behavior coming from the teenager; James was very much used to her being absorbed in whatever she was reading at any given time, so much so that sometimes she’d make herself a snack or a cup of tea to enjoy while getting lost in her fantasy worlds and completely forget about it until hours later. He supposed he only had himself to blame for that, having encouraged reading since she had learned to sound out her own name. It was, however, extremely strange to see her this engrossed in non-fiction, particularly about a subject that she had never really shown much interest in before. She loved baking and cooking, sewing, knitting and doing various kinds of crafty things, but she’d never been curious about home repairs. Sometimes she’d wait for days until James changed a lightbulb for her, claiming she didn’t want to do it herself because she was probably gonna get electrocuted. James supposed that was also his fault, pampering his daughter so much that she had never really needed to learn how to do it in the first place.

“I’d like to talk with my daughter during dinner like a normal family, please,” he said, tapping the top of her book.

“Sorry, it’s… I’m doing research on mold removal and I’m getting nowhere,” she huffed, finally setting the offending pages aside and looking up at him. “This book sucks, can’t believe this guy’s advice for an intruder is to get a dog.”

“We’re not getting a dog.”

“Do you enjoy ruining my fun?”

“I signed a contract, it’s my duty as your Dad,” James grinned. “Why do you want to learn about mold removal?”

“Remember I told you about Eddie’s allergies? He has mold in his room, Wayne said I could clean it but I don’t really know how.”

“Wayne asked you to clean Eddie’s moldy room?”

“No, of course not!” she glared at her dad like he was insane for even suggesting it. “I asked for permission to do it. I’m worried about Eddie, he could get really sick if he keeps breathing that stuff in. I just- I wanted to do something nice for him, that’s all. He’s always driving me around and doesn’t let me pay him for gas, it feels like I’m taking advantage of him.”

“A good deed for a good deed?” James said, softening.

“I was thinking about it more like payment in kind.”

“And you said the book isn’t helping?”

“Nope,” she said, popping the P. “Not a single mention of mold but plenty on wasps.”

“Why don’t you ask Uncle Johnny? He cleaned up the mold behind the washer and it never came back, he might remember how he did it.”

“Huh, hadn’t thought of asking him. Thanks.”

After dinner, Dottie hurried to wash all the dishes before dialing a very familiar number she was sure she’d remember her entire life. Sat on one of the kitchen island stools, pompom pen in one hand and cord stretched to its limit, she heard the phone ring once, twice, thrice before someone picked up from the other side.

“Hello?”

“Hi Uncle Johnny, it’s me!”

“Hey tiny, how’s it going? How’s your Dad?” his voice was soft and warm just like it always was; Dottie could hear his smile in every word.

“Good, good, he’s taking a shower. I was actually calling because I need help with something important.”

“Uh oh, do you want me to get Mary Elizabeth?”

Johnny and Mary Elizabeth had gotten married the summer after Dottie turned five; she got to fulfill the role of flower girl at the modest but gorgeous wedding, stealing all the looks as she danced with her Dad all night and fell asleep before the cake was cut. The couple had been friends since their first year at college, but they had started dating only a year before Johnny proposed during a cheap last minute holiday in Vermont. They had the kind of relationship that made Dottie believe in true love: two best friends who supported one another through financial turmoil, illnesses, debts, and grief, and kept choosing each other every day despite the hardships. Every time she saw them, she hoped that someday she’d get as lucky as they did when they found each other.

“No, I need your expertise this time,” she said, twirling the stretched cord around her pen. “Remember when you got rid of that mold behind the washer? A friend of mine has a mold issue and I was wondering if you could tell me how to clean that up.”

“Hell yeah, I remember, that stuff was gross. Got something to take notes on?” he asked, getting comfy in his armchair back in New York.

Around fifteen minutes later, James popped into the kitchen in his pjs with a ball of dirty clothes under his arm. He stepped around the island and threw the pile into a half filled basket in the laundry room for him to sort out the next day while he listened to Dottie on the phone.

“What do you mean it’s toxic?” she asked, and crossed something in her notebook. “Oh, okay, I won’t. Yeah, I think so. Two. One might be stuck but I know the big one opens-” she paused, listening. “Great, I’ll do that then. Thank you so much! Yes, I’ll call you tomorrow. Okay. Okay, I’ll tell him you said that,” she rolled her eyes. “Bye, love you! Say hi to Mary Elizabeth and Rosie for me. Thank you again!”

“Everything okay?”

“He says that he saw that movie you told him to watch and it sucked.”

“I know. That’s why I told him to watch it,” James grinned. “Did he help with the mold thing?”

“Big time,” she said, her sly smile matching her Dad’s. “That ceiling is gonna look brand new when I’m done with it, I promise.”

taglist (let me know if you want me to add you!): @munsonology