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silovsmenot · 4 months

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Bloody Nose | Matt Rempe (Part Two)

FIND PART ONE HERE SUMMARY: A few months later, the medic has gotten to know the young fighter well — a line brawl and early exit to a game gives Matt the perfect excuse to ask her out for a coffee. WARNINGS: Mentions of blood & bruises. PAIRING: Matt Rempe x f! reader. NOTES: All I'm say is ��boss lady✨ I dont currently have an idea for p3, but let me know if you want more! WORD COUNT: 2424

The months rolled on, and you’d seen more of a split of your time between university and your volunteer role with the New York Rangers. You attended practise and all the games, ready with hair tied back and the blue medical gloves on.

You were getting the perfect experience, this role was going to be golden for your studies and you’d already been offered the same role, but paid, next year if you wanted it — of course, you did. It would fit perfectly around your studies, and you were beginning to enjoy yourself. You were becoming more familiar with the guys, who in turn were more honest with their injuries.

And you had one particular patient who visited you with bruises, bloody noses and cuts more often than the others. Over the weeks, you’d grown to know Matt fairly well. His teases and mannerisms were almost second nature by this point. He’d stroll into the medical room with a ‘sore wrist’ and you’d wrap it, or he’d bumped his broken nose and it was bleeding again. Matt had even developed the ‘about to fight’ signal, just for ‘The Boss Lady’.

If you didn’t know any better, you’d have become slightly suspicious of his frequent visits to you. You brushed them aside for carelessness on his part, or simply the love of the fight. Not as an excuse to flirt with you, nor did you particularly notice his flirting for anything more than a playful nature.

He was easy on the eyes though, and you had a good laugh with him — you’d never turn him away.

It was April 3rd, you were standing in the cold of Madison Square Garden waiting for the puck to drop, just like everyone else in the arena. You almost missed his signal, your eyes caught by the referee as his hand rose, puck ready. Gaze flicking across, you watched Matt’s head turn to you — his dark eyes giving you the wink as you watched the mischievous smile simply engulf his features.

Matt was about to fight … But you weren’t ready for the chaos that would follow. You simply blinked and gloves were thrown everywhere. Players grabbing players as punches were thrown without mercy. The crowd was deafening as five pairs fought — you winced with every punch.

“You want all five?” The head medic laughed across to you, nudging your arm as you watched in complete shock. You were new to hockey, as far as fan standards went, but this was nothing you’d ever seen before. Nor had you heard that level of noise from the crowd.

But you couldn’t help but smile as the crowd began to chant his name, a little excitement that you’d refuse to admit to him, naturally. And watching as he skated to the gate, hands beckoning to crowds and calling for the cheers — he was loving this, and so were the crowd.

You couldn’t see any blood, but you gripped the towel instinctively. Ready for the referees to send over any injured players, but that wasn’t how this was unfolding. You were left in confusion as players began to leave the penalty box, from both teams. Not injured, but to the changing rooms.

And the crowd went wild as Matt left the box, his hand once again raised as he beckoned on the cheers from the crowd. The little shit, you thought but you could not stop grinning at all of this. Four Rangers players left the ice, the head medic giving you the nudge to follow.

“Go and check them.”

You simply nodded, breaking into a slow jog down the team tunnel toward the changing rooms. The first you heard was the laughing and whooping from the four guys, all of them clearly proud of themselves. Inside the changing room, K’Andre, Trouba, Goodrow and Rempe were looking pretty smug as you entered with brow raised.

But their cheers fell silent at the first sight of you — smug turning slightly sheepish, as though they were expecting a scolding from you. None would come. You couldn’t stop the smile that began to spread upon your features, head shaking as they too found their smiles.

“Are you all alright?” You spoke through the silence, each guy nodding almost as quickly as you spoke — except Rempe. The other three watched him, almost expecting this. Like they knew he’d play up on some ‘injury’, an excuse to get you alone again. And they were all completely unsurprised when he finally spoke out.

“That guy got my jaw good, have a look, boss?” Rempe muttered with a reddened hand, which would definitely be bruised in the morning, pointed at the left side of his jaw. As he spoke, grin lingering, you could see some blood in his mouth so he wasn’t completely lying. But the other guys exchanged a look, a few eyes rolling.

Stepping aside, you pointed the giant down the corridor to the familiar medical room. He knew the way well by now, walking with the smug swagger. He’d push open the door with ease, holding open for you to enter before jumping upon the medical bed with a thud. He was a little child, proud of himself for winning the playground fight — and you were struggling to not find that intoxicating.

“So, boss, did you like that fight?” Matt quickly spoke with his familiar forward lean, eyes lightly narrowed in amusement. You stood, as you always did, just before him with your arms naturally crossed upon your chest.

“Did you win? I don’t think you won.”

It was always the same answer with him. It started on your first day, and still would not admit that you liked his fight… even if it did make your heart race and your stomach twist. It was a strange blend of not wanting to see him hurt, but also enjoying the thrill of watching him fight.

And he loved it every time you wouldn’t admit that you liked the fight. He’d get you to admit it one day, but he was getting so used to the fans telling him how they loved his fights — you were making him work for it. And that drove him crazy.

“It was a draw, that’s close.” Matt would protest, leaning that little bit closer so you could feel his hot breath on your skin once again. You felt how your skin burned beneath his breath, silently begging for him to get even closer. “When will you admit that you like my fights, boss?”

“On the day you win.”

“I have won fights; you just weren’t there.”

“Tough shit, win a fight.”

“Come for a coffee with me, and I’ll win a fight for you.”

You fell silent for a moment. The quick quips were how you both always were, not wasting a breath between retorts to the other. Teases at the other’s expense… but this was different. It had been months now, since that first game, and he’d shown no signs of interest that you saw. Though he thought you were blind to the signs.

“Is that a yes?” He whispered, head tilting and grin growing with each passing moment of your rare silence. Matt had caught you off guard, and he knew it.

“I don’t date clients.” You spluttered, turning your back to him abruptly with hands collecting the familiar cup of water. His hand was already extending to accept it from you.

“I’m not a client, and don’t try to get out of this. Come for a coffee, and if you hate it, I won’t ask if you like my fights again.”

Your eyes narrowed as you turned back to him, cup of water in his hand as he took the large sip and swilled. The grin immediately back to his lips after the spit of crimson-tinted water.

“Fine.” You sighed; hands raised in defeat but inside? You felt the fluttering in your stomach, the skips of heartbeat. Kicked out of the game, you left Matt with the others in the changing room before returning to the bench. The excitement wouldn’t end there, with a whole litany of fights and almost injuries throughout the first period.

Needless to say, you slept well that night.

You weren’t sure what to expect when the agreed date came around. To be honest, you thought he’d back out or forget — but when you awoke to a text from him that morning, you knew the coffee date was still on.

You watched the clock tick down through your lecture, knowing that when you emerged, Matt would be waiting outside. You didn’t tell your friends, especially the ones who knew about the team. You weren’t sure why; you didn’t expect this to go anywhere but telling them that you were going on a date with Matt Rempe? You’d never escape the questions.

The clock turned 1pm and the bustle of books and laptops began, bodies rushing out of the lecture theatre with speed. Walking beside your friends, your eyes were immediately drawn by the waiting giant beyond the doors. You laughed quietly as you watched the small congregation get their photos and signatures from him — he’d grown quite the fanbase with his antics. But over them all, he simply stared at you.

He’d never seen you not in your team uniform, and he was enamoured with this side of you immediately.

“That’s Matt Rempe.” Your closest friend whispered as she yanked on your arm, shaking you from the trance that you found within his gaze. For a brief moment, you played dumb — pretending you couldn’t see him, your friend dragging you toward him with heavy steps.

“You ready to go?” Matt called out as you neared him, which only served to make your friend’s draw drop. She looked for a moment at Matt, then to you, then to Matt. She was in shock, and both you and Matt laughed at that.

Untangling your arm from your friend, you took the few steps toward the Ranger with your head nodding. He offered you his arm in replacement for your friends and, with your eyebrow raised in amusement and disbelief, you took it.

Matt didn’t tell you where you were going, he simply asked about your morning as he led you through the busy streets with a clear destination in mind. And it wasn’t long before he was opening the door for you to a little café, with walls lined with books.

To say you were surprised would have been an understatement. You thought you knew Matt well enough by now, but from how the barista welcomed the Ranger upon entry, you got the feeling that this was somewhere came often — to read?

“You like books?” You puzzled, frozen in place as you scanned the shelves. His hands upon your shoulders, he weaved your body through the café to a seat in a little nook — quiet and undisturbed by the other café visitors.

“I like books.” He whispered, elbows upon the table as he leaned forward. There was that smile again, smug that he’d kept this secret from you, and you were visibly surprised by it. And smug that you seemed to like that about him. “Did you think I was a dumb brute?”

You laughed at that. Maybe you did, without even realising it. You’d judged him, and you’d been wrong — you were glad that you were wrong.

He didn’t wait for a response for he already had his answer in your laughter. But he rose from the seat, disappearing for a few minutes before he’d return with two coffees in hand.

“What are you reading at the moment then?”

Hands wrapped around the warmth of the coffee cup as you watched him, holding it close to your chest. Matt slid back into the seat, taking a moment to get comfortable before his chocolate gaze was stuck upon you once more. And there, his gaze would stay.

“At the moment? Nineteen Eighty-Four.” He waited for you to say that you didn’t believe him, ready to get the barista to confirm his story. But you did believe him — you were surprised, but he never struck you as a liar.

“That’s a pretty deep book, are you enjoying it?”

And he’d nod, taking the first sip of his coffee with eyes watching you over the mug. It was so easy to get lost in those eyes.

Minutes turned into hours, and you both showed no signs of tiring of the other. You talked books, movies, friends — everything that came to mind and more. Three cups of coffee later, and you were getting hungry. But far from tired of his company.

“I should probably get going. I need to grab dinner on the way home.” You finally said, a sadness to your words that he immediately picked up on. You didn’t want to leave, whether you’d admit it or not… And nor did he.

“I don’t have any dinner plans.” Matt probed; his brow raised in suggestion. “Pizza?”

Your lips parted to find a protest, an excuse not to — but you stopped yourself. You’d enjoyed yourself, so why end it there?

“Pizza.”

His grin grew even further than you’d seen as you agreed. The proud nodding of his head as he rose with a hand immediately offered out to you, which you swiftly took to stand. The barista gave a small wave as you both left that little coffee shop, Matt thanking him and whispering something to the guy that you didn’t hear. You wouldn’t ask what, not yet at least.

Emerging onto the street, the sun setting on the horizon, Matt’s arm was offered out to you as before — this time, however, you refused it. Your hand rising to ignore the arm, but to tangle fingers together. Matt would not protest, he simply found himself staring at the intertwining of your hands. The size difference in your hands was quite large, but they fit together well.

It was the cue he sought, and he wouldn’t pass it up. His free hand rising to gently touch upon your jaw, he tilted your face back that little bit to allow his lips to find yours. You accepted every movement and melted against his lips. Lips lingered together for a few moments; his touch so soft against your skin. And as lips parted, he remained close with the usual cheeky grin replaced with a contented smile, small and genuine. You made him feel peaceful, and he liked that.

“I hope you’re ready for my next fight, because you’re going to love it.”

#matt rempe #matt rempe x reader #nhl blurb #hockey imagine #nhl imagine #nhl x reader #feral for this guy #matt rempe x y/n #silovsmenot writes

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transform4u · 3 months

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I’m a up and coming gay college freshman, definitely more focused on the academic end of things. any chance I could have a real straight bro’s college experience?

You stand in front of your dorm room mirror, adjusting your outfit for the night. It's not just any party—you're getting ready for Alistair's party, the only other guy as smart as you, yet also your longtime rival. The rivalry goes back to high school where you competed fiercely for top grades, and Alistair never quite forgave you for being valedictorian. You'd hoped attending a top university would keep you apart, but fate had other plans. Now, you share nearly every class and club, constantly crossing paths in classes, dorms, cafeterias, and even at GSA meetings.

High school rumors painted you and Alistair as boyfriends, a hilarious misconception given your rivalry. You were the charming, kind geek with a hidden cuteness, while Alistair was awkward, intensely bookish, and secretly jealous of your easy charm and looks. He was deeply into Star Wars, whereas you had every episode of Doctor Who on DVD and even dressed as the 14th Doctor last year.

Tonight, you had hoped Alistair's party invitation signaled a truce, a chance to bury the hatchet and start fresh. But stepping into his dimly lit dorm room, bathed in red lights and adorned with an emo witchy goth aesthetic, you feel a strange tension in the air. Tacky Star Wars posters clash with shirtless pin-ups of Tom Holland and Chris Evans, and Alistair's black-rimmed glasses give him an intense, cat-like gaze.

"Welcome," he greets you with a coy smile, handing you a drink. You cautiously sniff it—it seems fine. "We should probably pregame a bit, right? To putting the past behind us! To starting a new!" he says cheerfully, raising his glass. Little did you know how true those words would ring.

As you sip the drink, a peculiar sensation washes over you. Your head spins, and you glance down to see yourself standing inside a pentagram marked on the floor. Candles around it flicker to life, and Alistair begins chanting in a low, resonant voice.

"By the magic that shapes the soul and bends the will, I transform my rival with a potent skill. From intellect to muscle, from wit to brawn, Make him the jock he'd sneer upon."

Energy pulses through your body as Alistair continues, his words weaving a spell that seems to twist reality itself.

"Let his speech be all about the game, His thoughts as shallow as his fame. Turn his interests, twist his mind, Let ignorance and swagger bind."

You struggle to protest, to break free from the enchantment that grips you, but it's futile.

"By the moon and stars above, Grant me this spell, my deepest love. To teach a lesson, change the scene."

In an instant, darkness envelops you.

When you regain your senses, you find yourself amidst a lively, bustling party. Music thumps loudly, and colorful lights dance across the room. Confusion grips you—something is definitely different, but you can't quite grasp it. People around you seem to regard you differently, and you feel a newfound confidence, a swagger in your step that's both thrilling and disconcerting.

Alistair stands nearby, watching you with an inscrutable expression. There's a flicker of understanding between you, amidst the chaos of the party. Whatever spell he cast has altered the fabric of your being, and tonight will unfold a new chapter in your rivalry—one that promises revelations and challenges you never anticipated. As you navigate the party, you know one thing for certain: this night will change everything between you and Alistair.

As Alistair watches, a sly grin spreads across your face, almost instinctively. The music of the party pulsates around you, but your mind feels like it's in a haze, memories of computational thinking and Doctor Who episodes slipping away like sand through your fingers. Instead, they are replaced with vivid recollections of football matches watched with your old man, and hours spent cheering on WWE wrestlers.

An energy pulses through your body, causing a throbbing sensation in your head. You reach up to rub your temples, only to find that your dorky glasses slip from your face and clatter to the ground, unnoticed. As you stare down at your hands, you feel a strange shift occurring within you.

Your once-boyish charm and baby fat seem to melt away, leaving behind a face that is a stark contrast to the one you once knew. It's a study in blunt masculinity and exaggerated features, reminiscent of a bulldog's rugged charm. Your forehead, broad and unyielding, slopes down to meet a pronounced brow ridge that casts a perpetual shadow over your steel-blue eyes, now narrowed with skepticism.

Your nose, once straight and strong, bears the signs of numerous fractures, giving it a slightly crooked and pugnacious appearance. Lips that were once gentle and unassuming now twist into a cocksure smirk or a disdainful sneer, revealing teeth that gleam too perfectly.

Your jawline, heavy-set and sharply descending, ends in a squared-off chin that juts forward with an almost confrontational air, adorned with a perpetual chinstrap. Cheeks that were once flushed with excitement over intellectual pursuits now speak of nights spent in rowdy frat parties and on the football field, basking in the adulation of peers.

As your face sets into this new mold, new memories flood your mind, pushing out the remnants of your old life. You recall the rush of adrenaline during football matches, the horsing around with your teammates, and the cheers of the crowd. Thoughts of wrestling matches and late-night parties become clearer, overshadowing any trace of your former nerdy pursuits.

As you stare down at your skinny, twinky body, an unnatural rage begins to well up inside you. Standing at barely 5'6" and 110 pounds soaking wet, you've always felt inadequate, especially when compared to the jocks and athletes around you. The feeling of frustration and insignificance intensifies as you feel a strange twitching sensation in your muscles, almost as if they are awakening from a long slumber.

Slowly, almost imperceptibly at first, your body begins to change. You feel a surge of energy coursing through your veins, igniting a transformation that defies logic and reason. Inch by inch, you grow taller, your frame expanding into something imposing and solidly built. Soon, you stand tall at around 6 feet 3 inches, your once-slender physique replaced by broad shoulders that taper down to a narrow, muscular waist.

Your chest swells into a barrel-like mass of muscle, proudly displaying well-defined pectorals that ripple with each movement. Thick, sinewy arms hang by your sides, adorned with veins that trace their way over bulging biceps and forearms hardened by countless repetitions of weightlifting and grappling.

Your neck becomes thick and sturdy, supporting a square jawline that hints at your stubborn determination and competitive spirit. Despite your newfound size, there's a grace in the way you move—a controlled athleticism honed through years of wrestling and football practice. Your legs, now like tree trunks, showcase the explosive strength necessary for dominating on the wrestling mat or breaking through defensive lines on the football field.

Weathered and bronzed skin, bearing the occasional scar or bruise earned in the heat of competition, tells stories of your journey through physical challenges. Tattoos, often tribal or school insignias, adorn your arms and chest, marking your allegiance to team and fraternity. Off the field, your posture exudes confidence—a relaxed but assertive stance that speaks volumes of your status among peers.

Alistair bursts into laughter as he witnesses the drastic transformation you've undergone. The disbelief and amusement are palpable in his expression, but you ignore his reaction. Instead, you grunt at him with a newfound confidence, "Yo nerd, get me a beer."

Alistair, caught off guard but amused by the situation, quickly conjures another enchanted beer. You take a swig, and as the enchanted liquid flows down your throat, you feel your mind growing duller and dumber. Memories of late-night study sessions and intellectual debates fade away, replaced by images of rowdy frat parties, cheering crowds, and the adrenaline rush of competitive sports.

Compassion and empathy seem to smolder and fade, overshadowed by a growing sense of arrogance and entitlement. As you revel in this new persona, you realize that tonight marks a significant shift in your life. The rivalry with Alistair has taken on a new dimension—one where physical strength and social status reign supreme.

You see a keg out the corner of your eye and rush to it. You feel a strange sensation as you start pumping the keg. With each pump, your intelligence seems to slip away like sand through your fingers. The rage builds up inside of you, consuming every ounce of compassion and empathy that once existed within you.

Your clothes begin to change as well, transforming from your usual smart attire into something more befitting a frat boy - loud and obnoxious garments that scream "party animal." Your personality shifts along with your appearance; what was once reserved becomes brash and aggressive.

The memories of Kevin Brady - the cute theatre twink who stole your heart at prom - fade away like dust in the wind. In their place is an image of some busty blonde bimbo cheerleader who now occupies that special spot in your mind where Kevin used to be. As if by magic, she materializes before you with her boobs jiggling seductively under her skimpy outfit while she smiles coyly at you over her shoulder

With each new pump comes another blow against everything that made up who you are: intellectually curious… artistically inclined… sensitive towards others' feelings… All these traits are lost as dullness sets in like molasses on a cold winter's day – replaced by mindless conformity and shallow pleasure-seeking behaviors characteristic only among straight frat boys.

As you pump the keg more, you start to smell the beer. Your nostrils flare and you feel yourself becoming deeply conservative. Republican and Southern values fill your mind as a gold cross forms around your neck.

Memories and beliefs form in your head - memories of going to church every Sunday with your old man, beliefs about traditional family values and hard work paying off. You remember how much fun it was playing football in high school, representing everything that's right about America: strength, determination, teamwork… all those things that make this country great!

Thoughts about the radical left begin to creep into your mind now too though - thoughts like "they're ruining our country" or "they want us all dependent on government handouts". But then again maybe they're just jealous because they don't have what we do: freedom! And if anyone tries taking away our freedoms? Well then we'll show them who really runs this place… won't we now?

As you continue pumping the keg, memories begin to form in your mind - memories of fucking the dumb cheerleader bitch in the back of a limo. A cocky grin grows on your face at the thought of it.

Suddenly, Alistair is there, looking at you with disdain. "Watch you looking at faggot," you holler at him, and something strange happens - his clothes become tighter, his face cuter… unnaturally so. He looks and talks like a total faggot now!

"You're such a big bully!" Alistair lisps as he cowers before you. You can't help but laugh maniacally as he whimpers pathetically under your gaze. "You're just jealous," you shout back at him while tugging on your own cock for emphasis, "you're not packing like a real man."

Alistair continues to act more like a fag throughout the party as it grows louder and straighter around you - all jocks and bimbo sluts now dominate this scene that was once filled with diversity (or so it seemed). "Why don't you hang out with your loser queer friends in the theatre Alistair!"

Without hesitation or remorse whatsoever (because why would there be any?), you pull up Alistair's tight thong until he screams bloody murder while everyone else laughs hysterically along with you because let's face it: life is just too short not to enjoy ourselves sometimes right?

You remember getting to college on a football scholarship. You're big, strong, and obnoxious - just the way they wanted their players to be. Your fellow bros and you get fucking wasted every chance you get, doing shots and keg stands until the early hours of the morning.

As the beer fuels your every move, you spot a hot chick with huge tits walking by.

"Dude," one of your bros says as he enters the room, "did you fucking do her?" He laughs heartily at his own joke while slapping your back - an action that only makes you feel more nauseous than before.

"Yeah man," another adds, "she was totally into you! Said she wanted it rough." They all laugh again… but there's something different about their laughter this time around: it holds an edge of envy mixed with disbelief – almost as if they couldn't quite wrap their heads around how lucky you always were or maybe they just didn't want to admit deep down inside that deep down inside what really happened was something none of them would ever admit out loud: jealousy.

You spot the hot chick with huge tits from last night at the party, and she walks over to you. "Hey there stud," she says in a seductive voice. "Remember me?"

You grin cockily at her. "Of course I do, babe. You were the one who couldn't get enough of my dick last night."

She giggles like a schoolgirl and flips her hair over her shoulder. "Yeah, that's right! I just can't get enough of big strong men like you."

You take another swig of your beer and wink at her suggestively. "Well, lucky for you then isn't it?"

She steps closer to you so that their breasts are practically touching your chest through their tight clothes as she whispers in your ear: "Do me again tonight baby."

Your eyes widen slightly at this unexpected turn of events - not because it turns out this girl actually wanted more than just one night with someone like yourself but rather because deep down inside… well let's face it: even someone as obnoxious and brutish as yourself has his limits when it comes to how far he can push things without consequences coming back around sooner or later.

You flirt with the hot chick, feeling her up under the table where no one can see. Your bros egg you on from across the room, cheering you on as they clink their beer bottles together in anticipation of what's about to happen next.

Without a second thought, you stand up and pull her by the hand towards an empty bedroom nearby. The door slams shut behind you as everyone outside watches intently through narrowed eyes - waiting for that telltale moan or groan that signals something truly special is taking place within those four walls right now…

Inside, she kneels down in front of your pants unzipping them quickly before taking out your already erect cock which she begins sucking eagerly while running her hands over your muscular frame like it was some sort of prize-winning sculpture come to life right before her very eye. "Oh...Oh...Caleb....you're so fucking hot" she moans

You flex your huge biceps in the mirror as you face fuck this dumb slut, watching yourself with pride. Your ego grows larger by the second, swelling to unimaginable proportions as it becomes increasingly clear that there's nothing or no one who can stand up to you now.

Your mind is barely the size of a pea these days… but who needs brains when you have brute force? Sex and football. Beer and bros. Chicks and thinking with your dick… that's all that matters anymore anyway! You grab fistfuls full of hair and guide her head back and forth along your shaft faster than ever before until finally reaching climax inside her mouth – filling it with thick ropes upon ropes worth every last drop until there's nothing left but satisfaction written all over both your faces.

You're young, dumb, and repeating freshman year for the third time now - but who cares? Not Caleb! All he knows is how to party hard while maintaining his reputation as being one helluva stud among his peers (and maybe even beyond)… so why bother trying anything new when what works keeps working just fine.

#gay to straight #douchebag tf #jock tf #nerd to jock tf #homophobia #dumber #ask #male tf #twink to jock tf

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jonathansthickthighs · 6 months

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My Sweetest Heart 2: Yandere! Fushiguro Toji x Reader

Description: You have a one night stand with Toji and now he won’t leave you alone.

Part 1 here

Part 3 here

Part 4 here

Part 5 here

Trigger Warnings: yandere, obsessive behavior, female reader, AFAB reader, toxic behavior, stalking, desperate toji, no smut this chapter, implied smut, alternative universe (no curses), age gap (reader is in her early 20’s, toji is in his mid 30’s)

A/N: im so overwhelmed by the amount of notes on my first post, tysm :’). This is a soft, slow chapter. Steamy smut next chapter 🥵

Not edited!

It had been a week.

Disconsolateness spread through Toji’s chest like a wildfire, the wretched feeling not leaving his soul since that damned night. But was it really damned? Toji dreamt of that night from the moment he set his gaze on you, but why. Why did you have to behave like he was nothing to you? He was certain no man would ever make you experience the ecstasy he made you feel, the pleasurable sensations you felt only he could provide. Yet, you haven’t answered a single one of his texts. The extraneous feelings were clouding his mind, making his thinking unclear.

The things you do to him.

If you could squeeze your way into Toji’s mind, you would be able to see the profoundness of his love for you, but he wasn’t sure how long he could let you explore his mind before you fell into an deep abysm of pure darkness. He would never allow that darkness to collide with the love he held for you. He would never in his life time hurt you in any way, nevertheless he would not hesitate to hurt —kill— any man who did as much as lay his eyes on you. You were his one and only treasure and he was never one for sharing.

Would it seem too desperate to call you? He already refrained himself from texting you more than twice a day, but the way you were ignoring him was making the hole his chest feel larger with each painful minute that passed from the lack of notice from you. He spent the last seven days watching you from afar, which was nothing new to him, but he felt the progress he made with you had dissipated. Why did you have to behave like he was nothing to you?

You were right across the street from him.

You were at a local café, sipping on some iced coffee. He knew you lied to him when you told him you didn’t drink coffee; he had watched you enter and leave the place countless times. Thus it was another reason why he felt hurt by you. He was aware of how despicable he was, nevertheless that’s not how he wanted you to perceive him. That’s why when you started making all those excuses, he felt like you were seeing right through him, like you could see how bad of a person he truly was. In the labyrinth of his soul, he felt an inexorable need to reshape your gaze upon him, the same way he would mold clay under the weight of his hefty fingers. Even if the whole world saw him as scum, he harbored a silent hope to be seen through a lens untainted by judgment by you.

Each beat of his heart was chanting a plea for you to fill the void within. He wanted to demonstrate he had a vulnerable tenderness reserved only for you.

He observed you chatting vigorously with your friends —the same ones from that night. He wondered if you told them about him. Would you go into detail about everything he did to you? Would you start getting flashbacks from all the things he did to you? He could envision the supple flesh of your thighs rubbing together, feeling your underwear dampen from the memories of him mounting you, making you squirm under him. Toji felt himself harden in his pants at the picture of you getting all hot and bothered because of him. A recollection of memories of your enchanting body flooded his mind each passing day, his groin aching with a ceaseless desire to be engulfed by your tight, warm cavern once more. He needed you more than he ever needed anything in his entire miserable life.

He decided the only way he could reclaim your attention was in the flesh, so before he could form another thought about it, his large figure plotted his course toward the café with gumption.

He strode into the aesthetically pleasing looking place, with practiced nonchalance, feigning ignorance of your presence as he made his way to the counter to order some simple black coffee. Once he paid for the overpriced coffee, he turned straight to the table you and your friends were occupying. You were laughing beautifully at something silly your friend had said and in an instant, you locked eyes with Toji.

A smirk tugged the corners of his scarred lips. He could tell you were experiencing a sense of inner turmoil running through you. Your friends noticed your shift in mood, their gazes pivoting towards the source of your abrupt change in demeanor. When they noticed what you were looking, they started giggling teasingly questioning if that was “the hottie you banged the other night” quite loudly. It was safe to say your friend weren’t ones for being subtle.

On the other hand, Toji’s chest swelled with pride upon learning that you did, in fact, tell, your friends about him. He was starting to believe that approaching you in the presence of your friends had been a nothing short of brilliant. He was well aware of his talents and it was abundantly clear that the most conspicuous one was his charm with women. He was going to win over your friends so they could influence you into giving him a chance, knowing all too well the powerful sway that a woman’s friends held over her decisions —especially when it comes to men. He was going to use your friends to his advantage with unyielding determination.

Toji could see you visibly tense up as he made his way to your table.

As soon as he was standing in front of you, your named rolled out of his mouth almost seductively, the smirk never leaving his perfectly sculpted face. “I hope I’m not intruding, wasn’t expecting running into ya here. It’s so great to see you!” He exclaimed without forgetting to greet your friends, forging politeness. He couldn’t give two fucks about your friends, but in order to execute his plan it had to be done.

Your lips curved upwards, a hesitant smile forming on your face. “Toji, wow! It’s good to see you too.” You rose from your seat awkwardly extending your arms in a friendly embrace. He instantly enfolded you into the embrace of his strong arms, not denying himself from indulging himself to the irresistible urge to inhale the delicious scent of your hair. Gods, if only he could live in your embrace forever. You were wearing a yellow summer dress that hugged your frame exquisitely. Holding you so close, taking in your scent, plus this little piece you were wearing had him almost coming in his pants. To make things even better for his perverted self, he was certain, by looking at your cheeks flushing with a deep hue of scarlet, that you had felt his hard on press against you while you were being embosomed by him.

Your friends gaze bore into at you expectantly as you jumped momentarily forgetting their presence. With a quick apologetic smile you hastened to introduced them. “Oh! Toji, these are my friends.” You told Toji each of their names and he nodded attentively, inwardly acknowledging that he was going to forget their names instantly. “It’s a pleasure. With all due respect, I have to say this has to be the most good looking friend group I’ve seen, quite frankly.” He playfully danced on the edge of flirtation, his words laced with a charm that clouded the insincerity of his words. And of course, your friends giggled gullibly, already smitten by the Adonis standing in front of them.

“No wonder miss ma’am here went for you. Not only are you a sight for sore eyes, you’re also good with your mouth!” Your friend teased, the rest of them agreeing with her making your cheeks deepen into a brighter shade of crimson, the flush of embarrassment spreading like fire across your delicate face. Toji knew what you were thinking. You knew exactly how good he was with his mouth, having experienced the onslaught of his fierce tongue in your cunt.

“Ah, you girls flatter me. And trust me, your pretty friend here is well aware of what this mouth is capable of.” He joked, eliciting peals of laughter from your friends.

“Girl, he got a sense of humor too? Why haven’t you married him yet?” Your other friend chimed in. In response, you laughed with a hint of discomfort, failing to understand how your friends couldn’t feel the tense atmosphere that surrounded you. You had recounted to your friends how he had been texting you nonstop for the past week, collectively agreeing to label him as nothing short of a creep. Yet, as they now met him face to face their skepticism suddenly melts away and they transform into Toji advocates? You didn’t understand. “Why don’t you sit with us, Toji? Let us get to know you a little!”

“Don’t mind if I do.” Toji chuckled, planting himself in the chair right next to yours, a little too close for your liking. He turned to you, a wide grin lighting up his features, meanwhile you settled into your seat with a frozen expression, like that of a deer in headlights. The morning after your night with him lingered in your mind, haunted by the memory of his hand grabbing your hair. Though he didn’t harm you, a sense of unease lingered, leaving you unable to shake the feeling of dread. You thought you’d never see him again, so running into him here took you by surprise.

As your other friends interrogated Toji, your best friend seized your arm, pulling you aside so she could talk to you closely. “Oh my God! You never mentioned how nice he is! Why have you been ignoring him this whole time, you bitch!” She voice came out in a furious whisper.

“I’ve told you before, I’m not looking to get into relationship at the moment and he’s so persistent. I just don’t want to lead him on.” You replied feeling annoyed at her abrupt change in demeanor. “The best men always come when you least expect them. I think you should give him a chance! Just go on one date with him and see how it goes from there on.” She insisted, her tone pleading. You were starting to feel guilty for avoiding him. Could your best friend be onto something? One date wouldn’t hurt, would it?

“Fine, but only one.”

Your best friend erupted in excitement at your agreement and sprung from her seat.

“Well girls, remember that thing we had to do? We gotta dash.” Confusion clouded the faces of your friends, prompting your best friend to shoot signals with her expressions, discreetly urging them to leave you alone with Toji. “W-wait, wha—“ Stammering in puzzlement, you attempted to grasp the situation. Your friends caught onto the unspoken cue and swiftly began gathering their belongings preparing to leave you two alone.

“Yeah, that’s right. We have plans… without you.” One of them giggled teasingly as they hurried out of the café.

You’ve got to be fucking kidding me.

You couldn’t believe the scene unfolding before you. You made eye contact with Toji and he chuckled at your bewildered expression. “Quite the friends you’ve got.” He remarked casually, trying to hide the fact that he was shaking from excitement at being alone with you at last. He was fighting hard to conceal the thrill that vibrated beneath his skin.

You let out nervous laugh in agreement and joked, “Right. Making plans without me all the sudden.”

An awkward silence settled between you for a moment before you decided to break it, “Toji, about the texts—“

Toji interjected quickly, “Oh, don’t worry about that, sweetheart. I understand if things have been hectic lately. I’m just glad you’re okay. No pressure at all. Although, I do hope we can talk once in a while, I would like to get to know you more.” Toji mastered the art of concealing the ache of your week long indifference, cloaking his wounded heart with a facade of nonchalance. Determined to shield you from the depths of his longing, he masked his feelings, refusing to unveil his yearning for your attention.

You smiled genuinely at him for the first time since he got here. “I wouldn’t mind that at all. But, I would like to clarify that I’m not looking for a relationship right now. If we could keep things casual, I would really appreciate it.”

Toji felt a twitch in his eye; you were going to make things difficult for him. “I get it, sweetheart. No compromise.” For now.

You grinned at his acceptance and suggested, “You mentioned a mean ramen place in your texts. How about we go there now?” The realization that you were asking him on a date sent a wave of anticipation through him. Getting to talk and share his time with you again was the only thing he had been looking forward to the whole week. He let his gaze linger on your soft features, you were undeniably beautiful. He was determined to make your heart his, he knew he had to step up his game.

“I would love to, sweetheart.” Toji replied eagerly, excitement coursing through his veins. Temptingly, he added, “We could also go watch a movie at my place afterward, if you’re up for it.” You squeezed your thighs together, considering the myriad possibilities that could unfold once you two were alone at his place.

“Sure.”

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kittenshift-17 · 2 months

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Omg I feel like any teen wolf fic (sterek fic) you write would be amazing, on that topic ur an amazing writer and I’m glad that one day I stumbled upon one of your fics. And also speaking of sterek fics (or any teen wolf fic) do u have and recommendations on what to read for that fandom???

Okay, so I took my time with this one because I had read some, but not a lot... but oh boy, did I deep dive into the research to bring you some top tier Sterek Fic Recs.

TOP 20 STEREK RECS

Play It Again by metisket ***I LOVED THIS ONE***

In which Stiles goes along with one of Derek’s plans and ends up in an alternate universe as a result. He should’ve known better. He did know better, actually, and that means he has no one to blame but himself.

“Laura wants to lure the kid in with food and kindness and make a pet of him, like a feral cat. Derek wants to have him arrested for stalking. They’re at an impasse. (And the rest of the family is staying emphatically out of it in a way that suggests bets have been placed.)”

So Shed Your Skin and Lets Get Started by halfhardtorock

He's sixteen and in the woods on the wrong side of the town-line and he's so fucking fucked.

He knows he's not supposed to run, they teach that to you in preschool (don't run from a Were, back away slowly and walk with care), but they never told you how it would feel, standing alone in the dark with your heart beating in your throat as those glowing eyes tracked you from the shadows.

Don't Feed the Wolves by Amazonia_8

Stiles took the dare, because what else was he supposed to do when the whole lacrosse team was chanting his name? Even though the werewolf pack had left Beacon Hills years ago, nobody was stupid enough to set foot on the Hale property.

Except, apparently, Stiles.

Now he's got a feral werewolf following him around town with the sole purpose of claiming Stiles as his own.

so now you've got the best of me (come on and take the rest of me) by mangotangos

"It doesn't matter how hot Derek is, how Stiles barely comes up to his shoulders or how Derek's hands could probably fit really snugly around his waist. None of it matters, because he's basically a glorified babysitter for the foreseeable future and Stiles wants him out. Operation annoy Deputy Derek Hale into leaving begins now."

~or, the one where Stiles' dad hires Deputy Derek to be Stiles' bodyguard, Stiles hates him on principle and then 2 seconds later falls in lust (and love) and tries to seduce him into bed with his sexual prowess.

There Are No Wolves In California by kitsunequeen

Hunter!Stiles accidentally hits a wolf with his car and can't bear to leave him in the road to die. It's not till he gets the wolf home that he sees its eyes glow red... ------- Even everyday roadkill is upsetting, but this thing… Moments ago it was probably a majestic beast, and now it’s a mangled pile of soon-to-be rotting flesh. He presses a shaking hand to the only part of its chest left intact, not even thinking about whether it'll give him rabies or some other awful disease.

He’s about to pull back when something even crazier happens.

He realizes the wolf is breathing.

(not so) Pure Imagination by theroguesgambit

"There is a world where whenever someone fantasizes about you, you can physically feel it, but you have no idea who is thinking it about you."

Stiles knows it's wrong, but he's been Fantasizing about Derek and he can't bring himself to stop. Derek doesn't know who's taken an interest in him, but he's enjoying it way more than he probably should.

Little Wild Animal by DiscontentedWinter

Derek Hale finds a feral human on his pack's property. Humans are supposed to be extinct. But then, Stiles is full of surprises.

The Darkness Inside by isthatbloodonhisshirt (wasterella)

The sheriff watched him for a moment, then he sighed and turned slightly. He reached out to open a cabinet door beside him, and pulled out a shelf. It was on a track, so it rolled out of the cabinet fairly easily, and held a small CCTV. Derek frowned and inched his chair to the side a little bit so he could get a better angle.

He was looking at a teenager, or someone at least young enough to be the same age as Scott. He was sitting on a bed in what looked to be a larger room, the area he was in surrounded by four glass walls, with his legs crossed and head tilted.

He was also staring directly into the camera, as if he knew someone was watching. A creepy smile slowly slid onto the teen’s face, and he held up one hand, wiggling his fingers in a slow, eery wave.

Derek felt his mouth run dry. He didn’t know who this kid was, but he didn’t like him.

“Who is that?” he asked quietly.

“That,” said the sheriff, “is my son.”

What I Did On My Summer Vacation by grimm for missingsun

There's something weird about Beacon Hills that Stiles can't quite put his finger on. The way everyone in town knows his name the day he arrives. The way they insist the melancholic howling that echoes through the forest every night is just a dog. The way his dad denies getting a dog, even though Stiles comes home to find one sprawled across his bed, some big black thing whose eyes gleam red in the right light. The way that massive oak tree out in the woods vibrates under his touch, pulsing with sickly life.

There's something weird going on in this town, and Stiles is determined to get to the bottom of it.

Patterns of Intention by drunktuesdays

Derek looked like the stuff of his deepest fantasies. His shirt was rumpled where Stiles had his hands in it, and he was breathing hard as well, chest heaving. His eyes—his eyes were glazed over and he looked stunned, like he’d been—like Stiles had—

“No,” Stiles said, blood draining from his face. The word was croaky and felt like it had to be wrenched out of his chest. “God, no.”

Wants & Needs by MadcapRomantic

Derek Hale has been participating in the Beacon Hills Mating Run for a decade, each year coming up without a mate. His mother, convinced this is his lucky year, persuades him to run one last time.

Enter Stiles, a young Omega with an unwanted Alpha nipping at his heels.

Family or not, Peter is determined to have Stiles.

But convinced they are True Mates, there isn't anything Derek won't do to keep Stiles safe.

I don't know why, but I guess it has something to do with you by LunaCanisLupus_22 for xXxClassifiedxXx

“You smell like me,” the guy says, scowling as he crowds in and Stiles staggers back between the coats and finally hits the wall. “Why do you smell like me?”

He barely lets out a garbled sound as the blood rushes to his cheeks. “No reason,” Stiles yelps, struggling to get his footing and grasping at a whirlwind of puffy fur.

Or the one where Stiles goes thrift shopping and steals an alpha's shirt. And gets a lot more than he bargains for.

Sleeping Dogs by starsystems

Let sleeping dogs lie. Prov. Do not instigate trouble.;Leave something alone if it might cause trouble.

Derek Hale is asleep in Stiles's bed. And it just escalates from there.

Because of course it does.

We've Written Volumes (in Blood and Scars and Ink) by notthequiettype

Stiles is on his back on hard-packed dirt. He's cold and there are leaves stuck to his neck and there's a four inch gash in his side that he thinks he can feel his ribs through. There's so much blood around him he feels like he's floating on a pond and everything is so much dimmer above him than it was a minute ago, which is saying something because he's in the dark center of the forest in the middle of the night. And the worst of it is that he's alone, totally alone with the smell of his own blood drowning him and the soft side of him run through by a tree.

As his eyes slip shut, the last thing he thinks is, "This is going to kill my dad."

In Case You Didn't Know by Blu_Crowe

Stiles moves into the lofts, and he and Derek start to get closer. Unfortunately Stiles is a moron, and Derek is bad at feelings. They figure it out... Eventually.

Stilinski's Home for Wayward Wolves by owlpostagain

“At least your puppies knock first,” Stiles snorts. “Here I thought their alpha raised them to be well-mannered.”   

“There’s a sign,” Derek responds stiffly.   

Stiles, whose curiosity outweighs even his hardest of grudges, abandons his chilly façade of nonchalance in a heartbeat. He jumps right up and all but pushes Derek out of the way in his effort to get to the window, and sure enough when he leans outside there’s a laminated strip of cardstock duct taped to the vinyl siding:   

DON’T FORGET TO KNOCK Stiles gets cranky when we scare him

---

Or, in which Stiles Stilinski moves to Beacon Hills for his junior year of high school and accidentally adopts a pack of teenage werewolves.

Lock All The Doors Behind You by entanglednow

He has no idea what you're supposed to say when you find one of your...werewolf acquaintances, completely out of their mind, growling like they're about to see what your insides taste like. There's no handbook for this. Stiles is thinking that if he survives he might write one.

Feral Formalities by Aleandri

"There was silence as no one seemed to breath at the table.

Derek had just gifted Stiles, an unmated Omega, with food.

Right in front of another Alpha.

Who he was on a date with.

To discuss being heat partners...."

*In which, Stiles presents as Omega, and everyone wants a piece of the alpha-baby-making ass!*

for a good time, call... by EvanesDust for kalika_999

Stiles unlocks his phone to send out a quick text asking his father what he wants to eat, even though he’ll get salad regardless, and notices a strange number on his recent call log.

His face scrunches in confusion before realization dawns on him.

Oh shit.

Events from the night before peek through the hazy fog of his mind. Stiles thought, or he was hoping, that the phone call was a dream. But there it is, staring at him in the face—a one minute and 57-second call to an unfamiliar number.

Oh God.

Did he seriously call someone—possibly an alpha werewolf!—for phone sex?

...Or the one where Stiles drunk dials a very grumpy alpha werewolf and propositions him for phone sex. Hilarity, misunderstandings, and feelings ensue.

Golden Boy by trilliath

Apparently it still amuses his uncle to buy sex slaves for him, no matter how steadfastly he refuses to use them. Derek ducks into his tent with a resigned sigh, prepared to dress and reassign whatever new beauty Peter has bought him. They do make for loyal servants, so he can't really complain about Peter's 'gifts'. But it is annoying to deal with, to have to spend his evening sorting out a slave instead of being able to go right to bed. It's just something he has to learn to accept as a byproduct of serving alongside his uncle.

But when he lays eyes on the boy laying amid his furs, he finds his breath catching in his throat. His skin is golden with the candle-light glimmering against the sheen of oil that has been slathered on his bared body. His lips are parted, and they work over inaudible words or sounds. His skin is flushed, nipples peaked and pierced with simple but unexpected golden rings. He's spectacularly beautiful in the candlelight. The many glowing candles that have been added to his usual lighting cast glittering edges and shadows, imbuing an almost unearthly golden color to his skin.

It's enough that Derek hesitates.

#kittenshift17 #fanfiction #fic recs #sterek #sterek fic recs #derek x stiles #stiles stilinski #derek hale

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ozzgin · 1 month

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wtf HOW WAS ROMULUS OZZIE Hello??????? I CANT WAIT TO WATCH ITRTR i miss david 8 tho 😓😓 “you finger and i blow” ok gorgeous whatever you say

Ok ok, I let it sit overnight so I could formulate a less feral opinion. I'll do my best to be objective, though you should keep in mind that I'm very biased when it comes to the Alien franchise.

Alien: Romulus First Impressions

Plot. The movie takes place between Alien (1979) and Aliens (1986). If you've seen the old Alien movies, you will notice it follows the same formula: somewhat slow beginning, a grand reveal, a lot of high-stake escape attempts, shady android behavior, and the classic, speedy succession of plot twists where you think you're safe, only to be surprised the very next moment.

While this movie is meant to behave more like the pre-2000 releases, it does bring some novel elements, which, in my opinion, helped build its own authenticity. Additionally - and without spoiling you - it will involve its own Xenomorph variation. Fantastic idea, and I cannot believe it hasn't been done earlier.

The cast is a group of orphaned youngsters who want to escape their space mining colony. You're introduced to a dystopian, grimy world of overworked humans who've never seen the light of the sun. The main character, Rain, is accompanied by her "brother", Andy, an android programmed to take care of her after the death of her parents. Here's another aspect I enjoyed: an anxious, imperfect android who seems to display an emotional bond with his human.

Rain's friends discover a shipwreck which may contain enough sleeping pods to take them away from these unbearable conditions. Their plan is to sneak in, take the pods, and speed away to a more humane station while in cryosleep. The twist? It's not just any regular ship. They have stepped into the Romulus and Remus research station, operated by Weyland-Yutani, and haunted by yet another failed attempt to contain the Xenomorph horrors.

Characters. Let me tell you, this was a breath of fresh air. Prometheus and Covenant have left me rather skeptical when it comes to a competent cast, yet from the ashes of pathetic military personnel rose a bunch of kids who are built for survival. Rain reminded me so much of Ripley - extremely intelligent, efficient, and strong. Her friends are equally brave in the face of disaster. This was a 10/10 cast, and I'm so glad they finally found the balance between being terrified and still navigating the situation without catastrophic mistakes.

Visuals. The imagery was an absolute treat. They seamlessly combined modern special effects with throwback, retro detailing. The futuristic equipment and locations reminded me a lot of Alien: Isolation. Upon further research, it seems that the director was indeed inspired by the game! It made everything so nostalgic and immersive. The Xenomorph design was flawless as usual, involving a lot of body horror.

Audio. I am desperately waiting for the album to be released on Spotify, because the soundtracks were amazing. The music was composed by Benjamin Wallfisch, who seems to have rather big movie titles under his belt, such as It, and It: Chapter Two. Safe to say this man knows how to instil terror in you. They made sure to incorporate some of the classic pieces, then expanded on that. The alert beats reminded me of Covenant, while other tracks provided their own take on the story. The intro of the movie is aided by dissonant chanting in the background, hinting at the ancient, religious imagery used for the Xenomorphs.

Conclusion. Overall, I'd say this is a must-watch for any Alien fan. It is a tribute to the classic movies, but it still offers a brand-new take to the Alien Universe. The movie had some moments of complete silence - staying true to the "In space, no one can hear you scream" quote - and everyone in the cinema held their breaths. It will keep you on your toes.

#personal #alien romulus #alien franchise #alien movie

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fauustic · 1 year

Text

a second chance

BRIEF SPOILERS FOR ACROSS THE SPIDER-VERSE, DESCRIPTION OF REVEALED WORLD-BUILDING.

gender-nonconforming reader x miguel “spider-man 2099″ o’hara

angst. comfort. a bit of fluff. miguel o’hara breaks up with you for your safety, but the universe gives you both a second chance.

warnings: description of violence.

word count: 7358

Somehow, the city seemed even more suffocating out the window of Miguel’s apartment, lights of every color on the spectrum peering into the room as highly advanced cars skimmed by. The millions of people inhabiting such a place had their own problems, but for a moment you wished you were someone else. On their way to work in a tip-top business suit, an old person trying to make the most out of every passing day– anything other than here was more appetizing.

For a moment, you wish you were ignorant to the burden of these powers, the powers Miguel was forced upon and the powers you greedily accepted like a little kid in a candy shop.

It was all too much.

You’ve never seen Miguel so emotional, his knees meeting the ground before you could even shut the door.

There were glimpses of what let through, the broken state of his mind that he so desperately tried to keep together like grains of sand falling through fingers. Late nights he would break down sobbing in your grounding hold, chanting and repeating broken phrases of what had him so upset. Other times these fits you slowly grew accustomed to would be set off from your kindness, actions so deeply rooted in your routine that when it started creating disturbances in your relationship. It was painful, being the glue that held him together.

At the beginning of your relationship, it was something magical. Like one of the romance comics you’d skim through as a teenager, or a romcom movie that had you pining for the lovey-dovey side character.

Miguel was set in his ways no matter what he was faced upon, and making a statement on how serious he felt about you was no different. He’d court you with the utmost respect, swaying you with gifts and flowers that reminded him of you. His affectionate nature came to fruition as you crumbled all his walls in mere months, destroying the years of progress that he enforced to keep others out.

Yet, those nasty habits Miguel formed when he had no-one else slowly peeked through the crevices of your time together. Soft red flags that waved in passing roses he’d give after bad arguments of “your safety,” a bad feeling in your gut whenever Miguel mentioned something along the lines of, “they can’t hurt you too.”

The few months leading to the end of it all was messy, as secrets he precariously kept away from you fell right at your feet. Literally, and figuratively.

Waking into your shared home, all that was on your mind was preparing a meal for you boyfriend who always seemed to come home late. The scent of the apartment washed over your exhaustion-ridded body, cracking your shoulder with a pained hiss.

Distinct woody fragrances wafted throughout the cozy décor, Miguel’s aroma of Sambac jasmine combined with cedar and praline met your senses as a familiar comfort. You wondered if Miguel experienced the same after a long day, your magnolia and orange blossom washes relieving him of the stress of work.

Miguel was overwhelmed, sickened by his work at his lab. You’d always try to help him through his struggles with a massage, which he'd melt under your touch in mere seconds, but the moment you attempted to get him to speak about his troubles he always found an excuse.

So you stopped, having to face rejection so many times by the man you adored put so much wear on your own mental health too.

Getting home a bit earlier, you situated your suit in your over-the-shoulder bag before fully stepping into the apartment. As your entire being was surrounded by the reminder of Miguel, guilt slashed through your consciousness at keeping your own secrets away from him as well. But he was worried sick always, whether it be about his own duties or confusingly about your safety.

Yet, when your sneakers you changed into moments before entering the house slipped onto something haphazardly thrown against tile floor– the façade Miguel tried to feed into to "keep you away from harm" came crashing down.

It felt like an earthquake within your own home, rattling your heart around your ribcage like a feral bird stuck in an aviary. You were quiet, the gasp where sickness soon followed escaped through your stifling fingers wrapped against your mouth. It was terrible, being exposed to the truth in an act caught red-handed.

Curiosity snatched up your brain, the urge to prove what the mask strewn against the floor truly meant. You knew what was bound to come, but you couldn't help but think of a million different excuses in the time you tiptoed through the hallway and met the sight of his scarred back sitting upon the table.

His suit was torn off in a hurry, you assumed, by the state of how the half of his suit was rolled down to his waist and his mask was ripped off and thrown down carelessly. Finally catching him in such a vulnerable position, your heart seized and shriveled just to be rolled out again as his groan in pain cut you away from your thoughts.

You were upset. You know you had no right to be, but as every lie he fabricated to allow the space to have this second life pushed to the forefront of your mind, a choked sob erupted through your throat.

Why did he suffer through this burden alone? Is this what kept him from letting me in? Your brain became muddled with questions, tears clouding your tired gaze. Miguel was in the middle of tightening a gauze against a nasty cut on his forearm, curls damp with sweat and blood, when the choked cry that escaped your lips caught his attention like a spooked animal.

"Miguel," you sobbed harder as he continued to try and make excuses,

"Cariño, it isn't what it looks like–"

Your voice raised as heightened emotions threatened the atmosphere, your grasp on your bag tightening because you had your own secrets and second identity. Why wouldn't honesty escape from your mind and rid the ache in your chest?

You settled on being mad. Being absolutely furious as you reminded yourself of the lies he'd conjured, make you worry about his job as a chemist and even embarrass yourself by going up there and filing a complaint. Knowing it was all an act and you were just a side-character to his play, a mix of disappointment and betrayal fogged your mind. "I'm not blind, O'Hara!"

Stomping back down to swipe up the mask, lens broken and flimsy under your manhandling, you waved it around the air like you were showcasing an audience. Miguel only groaned, pinching his nose as his own frustration clouded his critical thinking. "I know exactly what I'm looking at, Miguel, really? Is this why you act like you're so fucking scared of something?"

He repeated your name this time, cold and calculated. Like you were a villain on the battlefield Spider-man– he– just destroyed earlier, spitting out the criminal's tag like it was worse than the dirt he stepped on. "¡Mierda!" He seethe, standing up only to shuffle closer, but you only stepped away. "Do you think I enjoyed keeping this fucked up secret away from you? No estoy orgullosa de mí misma."

Tell him you have the same problems.

"Were you ever going to tell me?" You cried instead, and his hands reached to cradle your cheeks but you pathetically swiped them away.

Tell him you have to worry about living until the next day for the sake of protecting others.

He was frozen stiff, his hands– claws you've never noticed before, unsheathing in and out of his palms. "I.. was. But I was terrified."

Tell him you're scared of others finding out who you really are too. Tell him you relate, and there was no reason to hide anymore.

But you didn't, instead you wiped away your own tears with sweaty palms, struggling to keep yourself from staring at Miguel's broken expression. He looked like a kicked puppy, his arms reaching out to you subtly to show if you walked into his arms he'd never let you go.

"Scared of what?" You tried your best to sound as furious as before, but all that came was a meek whisper.

Miguel's own tears fell onto the floor, catching your eyes as you stared at his mask in your clutches. "I'm so, so fucking scared of losing you. Tú eres mi vida, the air I breathe. You're the one constant I've had in my life, having it ripped away from me would kill me."

He's finally being open, and for a moment you saw light at the end of the tunnel. A turning point for the man, a second chance at being transparent in your relationship. It gave you the courage to come clean about your own second life and to apologize for your irrational words. But he spoke before you, rough and etched with hurt.

"But I don't know if we can keep this up."

"What?" The trance he was putting you under was shattered.

He laughed at nothing, his stare tinted with animalistic craze. Miguel's claws dug into his curls, "We need to break up."

The mask in your grip fell, a stunned silence settling over the two of you. He had just said he couldn't live without you, how he wouldn't know what to do if you were ripped away from him– and now he's proposing a breakup?

"You, what? Is this some joke?"

He turned away from you, pacing in unsaid panic. You knew he didn't want to do this, yet once he had a plan in his mind you also knew that he'd sacrifice anything to do the "right thing."

Miguel repeats your name the second time that night, your composure thrown off at the lack of pet names he would utter like honey from his tongue. He sounds hollow, dissociated from himself to make this discussion finish quicker. "They, I'm scared– okay? Scared shitless that they're going to come after you." He wheezed out another dry laugh, his bruised knuckles coming to kiss his eyes to blind his vision. The loudness of your voice from before must be giving him headaches. Because you were struggling with the same thing too.

"I can fend for myself–" you began to counter, hands coming in contact with the spider suit in your bag before his booming voice shook you to your core.

"No, no. You don't understand." Sobs choked his words, a flood of tears he couldn't bother to rid staining his cheeks and rolling down his jaw. "You can't! They're coming for me, and the ones I love. And the only one I love is you." Miguel emphasized himself by grazing your chest with a talon, exactly where your heart beat lurched and pattered like a broken down engine. "They will target you, and they will kill you."

Desperate, you were the one now begging for him to walk into your embrace. But he only turned away, his marred back facing you. The image burned itself in your mind.

"Who are they, Miguel? Why, even now, you won't tell me anything?" You sank to your knees, crawling towards him in despair. It couldn't be over.

"Hemos terminado. We're done, over." Miguel's tone steeled over, icy and painful and jarring. "Get out of my house."

He stood there like a statue, one arm holding himself only for his free hand to be pinching the bridge of his nose. Miguel didn't move as you quieted down your wails, and storm through the house to take what was yours and what you needed.

No words left your lips as you would steal a glance at his unmoving figure, the only giveaway that he was even breathing was his wavering composure. His attention stayed fixated on a corner of his apartment, head turned away from you the entire time.

You didn't care that you were still leaving so much of your stuff as your legs tripped over themselves to finally leave his apartment. You had more than enough money to live on your own, to buy the barebones like a toothbrush and necessities all over again.

Miguel O'Hara would now be a thing of the past, and all of the things tied to him could burn down in the apartment he held you.

Your senses could tell that once your sneakers squeaked down the hallway of his apartment, thinking you would never be able to notice– Miguel's knees met the floor of his apartment with a heavy thud.

Fighting the amount of bags in your hands while simultaneously pushing the button of the first floor repetitively, the last memory you have of Miguel was his unfiltered sobs filling the apartment floor.

☆

With time, you found yourself.

Whether it be from the new body wash you had bought for yourself or the different commute you began to take for work, a niche engineering project you've stumbled upon after the breakup– and it coincidentally helps you test materials that you could incorporate into your suit. The constant reminder of the man you brought to your knees didn't hurt that much anymore. Progress was being made, or so you thought.

Every time your back met a brick wall from the force of some outer-dimensional monster turned sentient who all of a sudden wants to get back at the human race, the thud that echoed from the impact would knock you right back to the apartment filled with sweet praline and magnolia. His sobs trailing behind a screech of pain from your enemies, causing hesitation in your combat.

The cheers below you snapped you out of your daze, civilians chanting for your victory or screaming in fear as they ran away. After the breakup, you've found yourself with the leniency of being able to suit up whenever your heart desires because you weren't keeping a secret away from another anymore.

You bit your cheek in frustration, upset at how you handled the situation because you had done the same and you were mad at him for doing exactly what you were doing. All these months have passed, and you still can't help but feel guilty.

But it's in the past now.

Another screech met your ears, back shivering as a chill washed over your spine. With the fast reaction speed you were able to build, you swung out of the way to another rooftop before the alienistic creature side slammed you. The web slinger you have tinkered with enhanced your ability to shoot out organic webs at a consistent pace, working as fine as a charm when you swing back towards the vicious monster to crunch your knuckles sickeningly into its slimy flesh. It glitched disgustingly.

It withered away with ease, falling off the skyscraper it had leaped upon in an attempt to finish you off. Throwing a device onto the being, it was trapped into a vibrant hold it couldn’t get out of.

Your soft cream-white suit glistened with its green blood, covering the black trim you painstakingly painted in the dead of night.

The appearance you kept up as a Spider-person upgraded with time because you didn't exactly mind the limelight. Not staying in the shadows anymore since you didn't have to worry about O’Hara finding out about you, your suit became something you adorned with confidence. It was a part of you now, as cheers sounded out from below at your entertaining brawl with a slime monster that totally wants to eradicate the city.

But yeah, go ahead and cheer you poor ignorant souls.

You never really came up with a name, but as you began incorporating little trinkets on your newly added combat satchel like a stray feather and charms of swans because a little girl said "your suit reminded her of one," the news generously graced you with the title "Spider Swan." On some bad days on the broadcast, though, the name would easily become a tomato show for jokes like "baby bird couldn't flap its wings," or "someone left the nest a bit too early."

It was infuriating.

The headgear installed in your mask allowed you to pick up on police waves, listening into calls and urgent matters so you could have a better idea of where you were needed and how you could help.

It rang through the noise of webs slinging from a glass window to a neon billboard, the police urgently requesting backup on a city street not that far away from you. It was describing a creature just like the one you obliterated, slimy and green and totally not from your universe. A scream pierced the radio waves, encouraging a sense of a little more urgency in your movements.

Becoming more involved with this line of work, you began to understand Miguel's worries. Corrupt organizations would pray for your downfall, threatening everyone you should probably hold dear to your heart as your spurred shoes met the slide of their faces. Other times skilled criminals would form alliances with one another and try to dig up your true identity as a way of blackmail.

It never worked and they're now where they need to be, but you suppose after you hear so many threats you begin to take it with nonchalance– and suddenly it isn't an empty threat– the panic that overwhelmed O’Hara was perfectly reasonable.

The beautiful lights of the underground city lit up against your lenses like a wildfire, a visual feast you’ve never been able to get enough of. Swinging throughout the tight spaces of Nueva York, you neared closer to where you were needed. A gunshot veered past you, presumably from a dumb cop, and you had to flip in the air and roll onto the street before picking up speed again.

Hissing out in pain, a quip escaped your lips when you neared the police force. “Did anyone here train to do their job? The last time I was here you almost shot me in my good eye–” Before you could even finish your sentence, two rookies pulled their guns in a defensive stance. With a heavy sigh, you easily subdued them with your webs before swinging into action.

The monster looked as if it was already struggling, turned away from your figure and groaning in its mother tongue, oozing with a gross slime that littered and disrupted the flow of traffic down below. It was relatively larger than the one you had just captured and suddenly the device in your hand feels a little too small. Nonetheless, as the villain flailed lazily, the heel of your foot met the crunching sensation from one of its many eyes. You almost gagged as it exploded onto your white suit, but the navy blue lenses meeting your contrasting white made time stop. It wasn’t until one of the many tentacles belonging to the creature yanked your ankle– soaring you violently towards a skyscraper– that the trance from the one you had been avoiding was interrupted with a shock.

“You–”

He had been trying to find you like a fox finding a bunny, you knew that. Waiting in the shadows, you always see him stalking beyond the darkness. And now you’re right here, finally coexisting in the same space after months of a cat-mouse game. “Can’t exactly talk here,” You yelled, deepening your voice in a pitch that made you cringe. “Let’s put a raincheck on what’s going on here and focus on the weird dimensional-octopus that’s currently beating your ass.” Spider-Man, with a groan of frustration that was just so familiar, noticeably squinted in your direction that had you sweating bullets as he right hooked the head of the monstrosity.

You knew everything about him. He knew nothing about you.

“I’m supposed to be the one and only Spider-Man of this–” He dodged a tentacle aiming for the head, only to unsheathe his claws and start ripping into the flesh of the villain. The smell, something similar to the stench of Sulphur mixed with radioactive chemicals. It burned your enhanced senses, tipping your balance before you caught yourself.

“Well obviously, you’re not.” Steadying your emotions, the calmness of your tone contrasted his irritability. “You know it’s not impossible–” Webs meeting tentacles, the screech of the glitching excrescence interrupting your words before quickly silencing it with another heel to the eyes. Pointing up and then at the watch around his wrist, you gave him a pointed look and a shrug. Nothing was said, but at the exasperated howl at your accusatory gesture– he obviously understood the unsaid.

“I’ve been speaking to you for a minute–” Another punch. “And I’m already finding you the most annoying out of all of them–”

You rolled your eyes, webbing the tentacles of the monster together like shoelaces stuck together. “Gee, thanks tough guy.” No response.

The monstrosity the two of you had been grappling against grew more frantic with its movements, growing more aware of its losing battle by the moment. With defeat in tow, the tentacles split into multiple. Green juice splattering excessively over the city blocks, it screamed horrendously in pain. The dimensional monster was imploding into itself, never allowing it the chance to return back to its universe.

Being so close to the glitching, dramatic death of the slime monster– Spider-Man pushed the heaving half-corpse’s weight off his own in a flurry. Always having to be quick on your feet in this field, you webbed the monster in the air so it could hang uselessly– the death of the anomaly would not be able to interfere with anything amongst Nueva York.

Being on your own despite having so much at your finger-tips, the separation between you and O’Hara made things difficult. You were on your own despite being at the core of everything.

Head buzzing with spider senses, your attention snapped towards the man that is tangled with your entire being– a useless game of push-and-pull that neither one of you are giving into.

Spider-Man miscalculated the leap away, his claws trying to find purchase in the metal beams of the building. But something was wrong, the slime running down his forearms ruining his suit’s resistance.

The structure O’Hara clung to was threatening to crumble due to the constant strain of the battle, doused in the greasy muck that pixelated and discolored by each passing moment the villain was close to combusting entirely. Before you knew it, the construction of the building that was so complexly fabricated was coming down and shifting into rubble on the borough down below.

Your limbs began moving on its own, your mind racing into a frenzy of saving the people down below and the man you revolved around like the sun and moon– unknowing forces pushing the two of you together but never touching.

Until now.

The collision lasted only seconds, but to you it was as if the eclipse was forever. Skin sizzling with nerves you didn’t even know you could feel ignited aflame, the pads of your feet coming into contact with the building’s crumbling walls– diving into spaces and using the webs you shot as a catapult.

Your hold came into contact with a body before you knew it, warm and intimate like you were back in his home. Tucked away in the softness of his duvet, your arms wrapped around his skin like an anchor against the raging waves. Memories came flooding in, lightheaded with your spider senses crying out in danger against the puzzle pieces that placed O’Hara on a pedestal. The first rose he gave you floated through the crevices of your brain, an astray petal landing softly on a memory you forced down.

The radioactive spider that latched its fangs into your skin on the night you met O’Hara, pain mixing with anticipation.

It's like the city lights grew more vibrant at the realization, soda blue mixing with dragon fruit pink– lime green swirling with sunny yellow. Everything fits together. This was how it was supposed to go, despite all the pain.

Strength you’ve built up allowed yourself to heave him onto your shoulder, breathing heavily at his weight crushing yours. But determination and adrenaline pushed you further, swinging through the shadowed city until you found a safe perch– laying him down gently. Time was running out, but you had to do what needed to be done.

Ripping on the tattered mask upon your face, you scooped up his head into a soft grasp. Right hand behind his neck and the other leaning the back of his head towards your unearth identity, his lenses tiredly widened at the abrupt reveal.

Tears you didn’t know you had in you– not shedding a tear ever since the day the two of you broke up– flooded your eyes and rolled down your sliced skin. Salt mixed with flesh, the pain kept you wide awake and aware.

“Still the most annoying one you ever met?” You couldn’t help but try to ease the tension in the atmosphere, yet failing with obvious reason.

O’Hara whispered your name like a blessing, claw upon his chest meeting the dirt on your cheek in the softest graze he’s ever bestowed against you. “You– you’re here.”

“I’m here.” You echoed, resting your forehead against his own. His suit caressed against your skin, and the world stopped. All that you could hear was his soft wheezing of breath and your own, and suddenly everything felt okay.

“¿Cómo puede ser eso?” He muttered aloud, “How can this be? How are you here?” he became a mumbling mess as nervousness clutched his rationality. O’Hara’s hand swiping against your jaw shifted to the small of your back in a hug. It was like nothing had ever happened, and you were about to fall in the ravine of his presence before a ear-blasting trill of beams breaking pulled you back into reality. You stood up, rolling your mask back on before looking down below. A miracle was going to have to happen for everything to turn out okay, but you were willing to take that risk. He called your name, reaching the hand not clutching his side out in desperation. “Don’t do this– you can’t change–”

You kept your back turned, shooting your webs onto a piece of rubble falling for leverage. “Don’t you dare fucking move.” Was the last thing you said before you plunged into the chaos that was unravelling Nueva York from the inside out.

☆

The abrasion of concrete rubbing against your skin carved into your skin, until it didn’t. Dust threatened to enter your lungs as you weaved in and out of obstacles created from the fissures of collapsing high-rises, bodies clasping onto you like a lifeline– until that ended as soon as you started as well.

Everything made sense finally, and then it stopped. Paused as soon as it strengthened, disentangling memories and causing fragmentation.

Lips met yours, the firm grasp of palms against your hips. “Cariño, you don’t understand how much I’ve thought about my mouth on yours since we last met.” A familiar voice whispered into your ear, kneading into your flesh as each syllable rolled out lazily. But the warm breath fanning the side of your face never came, and the wisps of hair that met your forehead never tickled you.

The touch of an elevator button against your index ignited your senses, bags dragging down your tired form. The thud of knees meeting tile followed, before ending with sobs echoing in the corners of your mind.

Darkness enveloped your mind, the vibrancy of neon lights that grew so comforting never came.

Cold metal met your limbs, grazing your chest and the beeping of a scan met your ears. Orange hues painted the darkness for just a moment, before vanishing like a hallucination. Little bits and pieces of words would echo throughout the chamber you’ve found yourself in– “When do you think,” – “¡Mierda! Are you even doing your job correcting?!” – “Let me take over,” “You have no idea what you are even looking at, Miguel!” – “But you do?!”

It was like this for a while, until the words grew closer and the colors overlapping pitch black spread like webs.

The first thing you felt was a weight on your leg, thigh trapped under the pressure of something breathing and shifting ever so slightly. The covers lying atop your form was nothing close to the softness you were used to, instead the scratchy fabric brushed against your skin and the thin gown you felt as you twitched.

Your muscles ached, both out of stiffness and the strain of what you remember: the buildings collapsing around you, rubble piercing your skin. Your throat felt dry, the lights overhead intruded against your eyelids. The metal sensation from before, cold and icy, trailed along your arms as you woke.

Peeling your gaze open, your spider senses went into overdrive. It feels as if your body had sunken into the pit of an ocean, drowning and heavy with salt water flooding your pores.

The first to catch your eye was the spider-shaped robotic machinery tending to your wounds, scabbed and bandaged with care. Your fists curled into the bed you rested against; the smell of chemicals embedded within the fabric burned at your nostrils. The luminescence of the lamps on the bedside counter were dimmed low as your gaze adjusted to the sensory intake, breathing deeply in a way to calm yourself.

This place was nothing you’ve ever seen before, but with an abundance of spider-themed gadgetry adorned along the wall and medical systems– alongside the hyper-technologically advanced computer interfaces connected to the tubed legs of the metallic spiders accessing the wounds you had, you assumed it must have been the Spider Society HQ you’ve heard in passing. The building above the greenery beyond Nueva York, a vision you were only able to get glimpses from riding the train.

Holding your breath, you looked at the weight atop your thigh.

A tuft of combed-back brown curls met your stare before tracing the few strands hanging delicately over his forehead. His eyes were fluttered shut, eyebrows furrowed as if he was having a bad dream. Deep stress lines you desperately wanted to thumb away rested in-between his brow, leading you to the circles under his closed eyes. Deep and prominent against olive skin, O’Hara was now in a slightly modified, upgraded version of his navy blue suit that had none of the previous damage from the battle you stumbled upon.

His head lay against your thighs heavily, breathing in your scent deeply as he dozed off. Every few snores, he’d stutter in his sleep as if he was about to shock himself awake– but he easily settled back in the softness of your muscle after his hand upon your stomach would grab the flesh of your stomach softly.

You took a moment to study him. There’s been a few times you’ve sighted him in the streets, usually his mask covering his identity always. This is the first time you’ve truly had him so close and the realization of it all made your palms sweat and your stomach churn. The usual quips and your homemade spider-mask could not save you now, you were in the den of a lion’s. He quite literally had you in his grasp.

The knowledge you had of this place was limited, not being a part of the Spider Society because you had to avoid him– and now that everything has been revealed in regards to both of your secrets you had no idea what to do from here. Not like you could do much right now though, your bones feel fragile and your muscles feel weak. How long have you been holed up in this cage?

A groan escaped O’Hara’s lips, a frown contorting his features. Under the spell of sleep, he looked much more soft. The rigidness of his stoicism couldn’t plague his expression as dreams consumed him, but as his frown deepened and the lines between his eyebrows became more prominent,, you couldn’t help but slide your hand underneath his. Squeezing it, his scarred fingers subconsciously intertwined with yours without a moment’s hesitation.

A smile bloomed onto your lips at the sight, your heart running a marathon at the closeness you were allowed. All the anger festered up from that night ebbed away with time and understanding– having the role as a Spiderperson since the split made you candidly comprehend the stress and dedication one has to have. With the experience, the hardness O’Hara had on himself and others suddenly made sense, and as the confusion cleared– love remained. The man within your reach finally, has always been in the corners of your mind, memories unearthed by every little thing in your life. You may have changed your route to work, but then you started to pass his favorite restaurant. You may have changed your body wash, but the scent of praline underlined the floral smell of ocean breeze.

He was always there, one way or another.

Silence enveloped the room, minus the soft beeping and the slight hiss that escaped you whenever one of the freaky looking medical spiders zapped skin back into place. Yet, as you sat there quietly while looking outside the window, tracing flying cars with your gaze or simply admiring the amount of green you’ve possibly ever seen before– a shaky voice met your rhythmic, soft breathing.

Your name was the first thing he said, disbelief lacing his tone before both his hands scooped up the clutch you held onto him with delicacy, like he was hiding away a treasure in the palm of his hands. “Can’t believe anything any of this–”

“How… how long was I out, O’Hara?” Your voice didn’t sound like your own, fragile and meek. It made you feel pathetic– being able to save so many people in less than two minutes and suddenly you couldn't even bring yourself to speak. Without a word, he reached over to the bedside table to fiddle with a water bottle and a straw. He set the straw to your lips, grabbing your chin to take the straw.

He sighed, tutting like a worried mother hen. “Don’t use your voice so much, cisne. Drink.” It’s been so long since you’ve been waited on hand-and-foot that it almost made you annoyed, but you did what he said because you are bedridden after all. And in a way, it made you feel like he cared. The way O’Hara’s thumb swiped your lower lip when water trickled down your chin was calculated, as if he was trying to embed the feeling into his brain again.

“You had been slipping in-and-out of consciousness over the past week and a half.” He murmured, leaning into your space as your free hand patted on his chest to indicate you had enough water. A soft frown threatened at his lips, worry evident in his gaze.

Coughing from choking down so much water, the question tumbled from your mind without second-thinking. “And how long have you been here?” You felt your cheeks hearten due to the lack of filter, but a part of you really wanted to know.

Your embarrassment transferred to him as soon as the question hung into the hair, his gaze ripping away from your own. His frown wobbled at getting caught within the act, vulnerability showing through for once between the amount of time the two of you have shared. “I’ve..” Having an internal battle with himself, he exhaled with stress in defeat. “Been here since you got here.” Your eyes lit up, and he only groaned at your obvious excitement.

“You were worried.”

“I was– I was not worried– dios mío–”

You sat up further on the pillows behind you, pointing into his chest as he leaned further away in lighthearted mortification of finally having to talk about his feelings. “O’Hara! You were! You were worried!”

“If I admit it will you stop repeating yourself–”

“Yes,”

O’Hara’s brow furrowed as if he was in physical pain, leaning back into the chair he sat right beside your bed. His hands still stuck firming around your sweating ones, his head leaned back in exasperation. “I was worried. I am always worried about you. I was scared shitless sitting there on that ledge while you dived into the unknown.”

Breath stuttering, you held the air within your lungs for a long second. It felt like a dream, having the Miguel O’Hara hunched over with his hands around your own like a delicate doll, flushed and embarrassed because he finally has to admit his feelings. The urge to kiss him overwhelmed you, and if you had the strength to lean forward and do so, you would. But exhaustion was dwelled deep into your limbs, and you didn’t want to overexert yourself.

“And, and– stop calling me that. Jesus, it’s like hearing a teacher addressing me.”

This caught your attention as his scarlet eyes met yours, swirling with a flurry of emotions that screamed of intensity. “Calling you what?” You asked, trying to sound indifferent when truly you were just teasing him. But he was more than observant– and when he caught you trying to play him like you were a guitarist and he was your bass. This only riled him up more.

“O’Hara?! I’m Miguel to you, Miguel.” His hands tightened around your own as he repeated his name twice, almost like a plea. “Stop making me act like a child, I have a reputation to uphold–”

“You became O’Hara the day you broke up with me.” Low blow, and quite petty– but you wanted to test if he truly had changed.

The rant you cut off halted without another word, O’Hara’s forehead meeting your thigh as if you just slapped him atop the head when you knocked sense into him. “I didn’t know what else to do.” His voice choked up almost instantaneously, his emotions as high as ever like he just processed you were truly here and talking to him. “And look at where we ended up.” The latter didn’t sound like he was speaking to you, more like he was stuck in his head someplace far away. “Your safety was what mattered the most to me– and back then these people, these people threatened to remove you from here. Wipe you off the plane of this universe like you never even happened.”

You were silent as his hands kneaded into your thighs gently, fingertips trailing up your stomach like he was trying to remember every part of your body again unconsciously. “I didn’t want to lose you, and for the longest time I pushed it away as much as I could until I couldn’t anymore.”

Your brain clicked and churred, gears rolling back in place in your post-coma fog. “.. Is that why you were so stressed, so different throughout the end of our relationship?”

Miguel sighed heavily, tears threatening to fall as if an entire world was lifted off his shoulders. “.. Yes. Yes, I’m not proud of it. I’m really not proud of myself.” He repeated, confessing his sins like you were the pastor and he was a sinner. “I just was terrified for you to be gone.”

“.. I’m tired of having so much loss in my life.” It was barely above a whisper, but you heard it.

His shoulders raised, stammering as if he was holding himself back. Without a word, you shrugged your hand from his own. Scarlet gaze meeting yours in surprise, fangs on display unknowingly as his mouth slacked– your arms raised towards him and instantly he allowed himself to melt into your embrace.

“I didn’t know.” Was all you said.

“I didn’t want you to know,” He murmured against your cheek, breath fanning your ear and arms meeting your back strongly. Just like your dreams. Miguel’s words trailed off anxiously, before concluding with something you haven’t heard in a long time, “mi cielo.”

Tears soaked your shoulder sleeve, but you didn’t care. “But I want you to know everything now. I want you to be a part of my life now, we can get through it all–”

A small frown met your lips, heart clenching at his words. “I, I can’t–

“Mi pajarito, please,” Miguel breathed in deeply, “I really, really have missed you.” His hold surrounding you tightened subtly. The buzz of floating cars whizzed by as silence enveloped the both of you, the noise of watches sounding throughout the hallway kept you grounded. Drilled it into your head that this was truly happening, that you’re here with Miguel with both of your secrets unveiled. Under each other's protection.

“Miguel, I.. I can’t be hurt again.” You wanted him, wanted him more than anything. But something snatched your heart up and forced it into an aviary. It raged against the railings of its captor, fluttering with desperation. You were scared of rejection again, the repressed emotions flooding your senses and making you sob. Miguel held you as you cried and continued to do so, tracing shapes into your skin like all those months ago. “Please don’t leave me again.”

The plea escaped you through tears, Miguel promised and promised and promised as he swiped away the wetness amongst your cheeks, his cold exterior he kept affront during your relationship crashed down in waves as his own tears pressed into your skin. “I’m so sorry. Please, please like you gave me– give me a second chance.”

His fingers trailed up, grasping the nape of your neck while the other caressed your cheek with a shakiness you’ve never seen before. Always so confident, it reminded you of the brokenness you witnessed on the last night you were together. But this felt genuine, the looming fear and despair hanging over his head all those months ago were fanned away with time. This was Miguel’s honest attempt at vulnerability.

You stared into his tearful eyes, a smile playing at your lips as your hands sat upon his own holding your face. Leaning in, your nose brushed his as your eyes fluttered shut. Your lips, chapped and cold, met his contrasting warm and refined touch. Miguel presumably did not care, as his fingers intertwined with your hair and grasped your chin with a sparked need. The kiss was short and sweet, as the two of you breathed into each other’s mouth. Relishing in the moment, you pushed forward again as desperation seeped into your rationality.

Your hands moved from his own to his shoulders, pulling him deeper into the kiss and he just consumed whatever space you gave him. Miguel was aware of every muscle he pushed against you, but as the both of you clawed into each other’s flesh Miguel’s resolve to stay gentle ebbed away as his spit swapped with yours. It was if you were a struggling flower, and he was both the air and sun and water combined. He was everything you needed, and he was everything you wanted. To you, he was the sun and you were the moon– seeing one another in passing but never touching until today.

But to him, you were the stars that littered the sky. A comet passing by, beautiful and alluring. You were in each neon sign of Nueva York, where he stared a little too hard and could see a figure of you that was constructed from the little imagination he had left.

He saw you in the headquarters he overworked himself in to forget you. He saw you in the shadows of the city he protected. Miguel saw you in everything he believed in, yet everything he went against simultaneously.

But he’ll learn to make exceptions with himself and the rules he place, because as his fangs dig into your lower lip and the noise that erupts from your throat wraps him around your finger– Miguel tries to understand how he ever let you go.

“Miguel, you kiss me once and you’re already trying to bite me–” You begin to scold in your little way, until Miguel shushes you with another kiss to the lips.

“It’s all out of love, cariño.”

#miguel o'hara #miguel o'hara x reader #miguel o'hara comfort #miguel o'hara angst #x gender neutral reader #miguel ohara #across the spiderverse #across the spider-verse #across the spiderverse x reader #spiderman 2099 #x angst #x comfort #comfort #angst

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flowerandblood · 9 months

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The Gate of Salvation [1/3]

[ young pope • Aemond x catholic • female ]

[ warnings: sexual tension, angst, anxiety, manipulation, doubts related to faith, chauvinism ]

[ description: During the conclave, a new pope is elected, but to everyone's surprise, he does not intend to show himself to the crowds waiting for him. His ideas terrify the cardinals, and one of them convinces his niece, who is studying marketing, to talk to the new head of the Catholic Church in his presence. Main theme: sexual tension & holy touch. ]

A mini-series created as a thank you and celebration of my 2'500 followers. I initially plan that it will have about 3 chapters.

Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3

The Song of Songs (Oneshot) Death and Ressurection (Oneshot)

Aemond as a Pope Edit Series Characters Moodboard Aemond NSFW Alphabet

* English is not my first language. Please, do not repost. Enjoy! *

Next chapters: Masterlist

_____

What happened after the conclave took everyone by surprise and caused complete chaos in the Catholic Church; she was one of the people who watched the live coverage from St Peter's Square.

She prayed in spirit that her uncle and her mother's brother, Cardinal Reene, would not become Pope.

Admittedly, it was thanks to him that she was living in Rome, and without his financial support she would not have been able to study, however, her uncle was a person who did nothing selflessly.

He recalculated to himself that if his niece wanted to study marketing at University then he would help her, reminding her at times that he would count on her help in the future, to create a good, sympathetic image of him.

She had the feeling that listening to him she was even losing her faith, which, despite her many internal disputes and doubts, was strong in her. She returned to the bosom of the church of her own free will when she was in high school after years of not attending Mass; she discovered that she felt attached to this tradition, as well as to God himself, whose presence she subconsciously felt all around her.

She knew that her uncle would certainly try to bribe other cardinals and she guessed what his pontificate would be like, so she begged God in her prayers not to allow such a man to become head of the church in his name, and heavens, as always, heard her prayers.

When she saw the white smoke on the screen she let out a loud breath, closing the textbook she had just been reading – she heard shouts and applause of joy coming from the television; the bells rang out, the solemn moment when the new pope comes out onto the balcony to greet his faithful was about to begin.

This went on for an astonishingly long time and she wondered if something had happened or if the votes had been miscounted, however, she heard the cheers of the crowd again as the doors opened. What stepped out was not a procession, but an ordinary priest in a black cassock; she recognised in him the secretary of the late Pope, who was certainly not a cardinal.

He seemed tense and frightened; he approached the microphone and said only two sentences.

"We have a Pope. The Holy Father, who has taken the name Pius XIII, asks you all to pray for him." He said in a trembling, uncertain voice, all pale, and then disappeared back behind the door – voices of disbelief and disappointment spread throughout the square, the gathered people, like her, were shocked.

However, all the internet portals published the name of the cardinal who had been elected; it turned out that the new pope was Cardinal Targaryen, a very little-known, withdrawn and shockingly young priest.

He was only two years older than her.

Journalists despaired that there were no official or unofficial photos of him, no statements from him, as if he had lived for years locked away in some monastery and never stepped into the light of day.

The world was confused and anxious – the young pope had not stepped out onto the balcony of St Peter's Basilica even once despite the crowds gathered in the square below chanting his name day and night.

She wondered if, in this way, he wanted to focus the world's attention even more on himself by standing in the absolute centre of it, and thought that if so, it was not a good beginning to his pontificate.

Two days later, her uncle paid her an unannounced visit at the flat he was renting to her, dressed so that no one would recognise him, just like the other cardinals still hounded by journalists and paparazzi.

"I need your help. The matter is very delicate." He said quickly, handing her his coat, which she hung on one of the hangers, looking at him over her shoulder in surprise.

"Me?" She asked with her eyes wide open, wondering what was going on there that required the help of someone from outside the Vatican.

"Pius XIII is a cripple. He lost his left eye as a child. He insists that if he is to show himself to a crowd, it should only be with his artificial eye, but not an ordinary one, one that resembles the real one, but a completely white one. He thinks this suits his attire and position better, but we think it will create additional confusion about him. Additionally, he wants to keep the Pope's public appearances to a complete minimum. He has fired all the Vatican marketing people with years of experience. This is some madness. Can I have a coffee?" He finally asked after his verbosity, sitting down in a chair at the living room table, placing his black wide-brimmed hat on the tabletop, sighing heavily.

She nodded, snapped out of her reverie and the shock of his words, pulling a mug and black coffee from her cupboard. Her uncle drank coffee made from three heaped teaspoons without milk, and although she didn't know how he could swallow something so disgusting and not have a heart attack in the process, she made it the way he liked it.

She swallowed loudly, pouring water into the kettle, putting it on the burner and turning the fire on under it, analysing everything he had told her.

"It sounds like he has a very low and a very high opinion of himself at the same time. How could I help here, uncle? I'm just a student." She said in dismay, shrugging her shoulders; her uncle nodded his head as if convinced that this would be her answer.

"You are young, you have a fresh outlook. He doesn't want to listen to us old people, he thinks we're out of step with the world and what it needs, whatever that means." He said with a sneer, looking out of the window, spreading himself comfortably in his chair with a creak of wood.

"I'd like you to try to talk to him, to understand what he means, what his vision is. Guide him to the idea that young people too want peace and predictability, not perpetual rebellion. I told him I could introduce you, that you are very talented and he agreed." He said finally and scratched the back of his neck – she heard the kettle whistle and turned off the fire under it, feeling that she had simply run out of words.

"− what? − I − oh God, uncle, I don't know − what if I make things worse and you lose in his eyes because of me? −" She muttered, feeling adrenaline start to bubble throughout her body; she poured hot water over the coffee in her mug, grabbed it and set it in front of him, then started walking back and forth across the room, panicking in some kind of way.

"This would just be a consultation − two young people want to change the image of the church to, let's say, a more welcoming one − this could be your big chance." He said, lifting the mug to his lips, taking a sip from it and murmuring contentedly, apparently finding that his coffee was exactly the way he liked it.

He persuaded her for so long that she finally agreed, but she regretted it as soon as he walked out.

She was inexperienced in discussions with this world, with such people, and was afraid she would make a mistake, do something against protocol and embarrass herself.

Her uncle sent her a message on the day of the meeting saying that she must dress modestly, preferably in white or black, her dress must end at least past her knees, her toes must not stick out of her shoes, her shoulders must be covered. Sharp, defiant make-up was not acceptable.

She was to address the Pope as Holy Father or Your Holiness, keep the proper distance, not sit with her legs crossed, not put her elbows on the armrests, not lean or crouch in front of him, approach him only if he wanted her to kiss his ring.

The amount of information she received overwhelmed her; she took a quick look in her wardrobe and found that her simple black dress with white embroidered collar and cuffs was the perfect length – it had no cleavage, it looked elegant, innocent and girly at the same time.

She decided to wear flesh-coloured tights with it and sleek black shoes, which she had previously polished. She styled her long dark hair in a braid around her head, keeping it in place with pins, short, unruly strands on the sides of her face.

She used only mattifying powder and mascara as her make-up, deciding that this was enough, around her neck a necklace with a small gold cross that she had been given once by her grandfather.

At the appointed hour, a black car pulled up in front of her townhouse; she got into the back seat and greeted the driver, who, however, did not answer her, driving off without a word.

After several minutes they were already in the Vatican itself; she looked through the car window at the crowds of people spilling out of St Peter's Square, saw a group of men and women holding cardboard sheets in their hands with the handwritten words:

Our Pope does not love us.

She lowered her gaze, silently contemplating all that was happening, and shuddered as they stopped in front of the gate – a Swiss Guard officer dressed in colourful historical attire with red, yellow and navy blue stripes stopped their car.

Her driver showed him his ID and the man nodded – the gate opened and they drove inside into a small courtyard that she saw for the first time in her life.

She breathed a sigh of relief when she saw the figure of her uncle waiting for her in his full, opulent cardinal's robe, a cross on his chest of pure gold, adorned with rubies and diamonds.

He greeted her with a broad smile and joy, with a gesture of his hand inviting her inside – they ascended the baroque staircase to the corridor, the view of the interior of the entire complex took her breath away.

She was surrounded on all sides by paintings and sculptures by the great Italian masters of the Renaissance, Baroque and Classicism; she felt a solemn mood, though she did not know why, as if she had in fact entered the truest home of God himself on earth.

The guards as well as other men passing her looked at her intently – she thought with horror and shame that women, with the exception of nuns, were a rare visitor to this sanctuary and aroused curiosity mixed with distrust.

Here, what Eve did in paradise according to the Bible, because of whom sin possessed man, was never forgotten.

They climbed the stairs to the upper floor and then stood in front of a large white door, high up to the ceiling, with two men in the same colourful garments standing in front of them. Her uncle sighed heavily, as if stressed himself, and looked at her comfortingly.

"I'll do the talking, you keep quiet for now." He said lightly, surprising her completely – she had no time to reply as he nodded and one of the guards opened the door for him.

Her uncle moved ahead, so she moved behind him, entering a spacious, bright room with six windows overlooking St Peter's Square – to their right stood bookcases filled to the brim with books, and to their left a huge wooden desk.

Only after a moment did she notice someone standing by one of the windows; he was turned to them with his back, looking out at the crowds knowing they couldn't see him, a white cassock on his body, his short hair looking elegant and carefully styled, pulled back, almost white, glistening in the sunlight.

"Holy Father. As promised, I bring before you my niece, who I hope will allow us to come to an agreement." He said in a light, cheerful tone, as if addressing a friend, but they were answered by an uncomfortable silence.

She swallowed loudly when he finally turned to face them, her heart stopped for a moment when she saw how sharply shaped his face was – his cheeks and jaw were clearly outlined as if someone had carved them with a chisel, his mouth full, a pale scar running across the left side of his forehead to his cheek, his artificial eye completely white.

She felt that she was looking at him with her lips slightly parted and some sort of concern, so she lowered her gaze, reminding herself that she shouldn't do that.

"Hm." She heard him hum under his breath, as if he was thinking hard about something.

"Leave us alone, Cardinal." He said finally, turning his face towards the window again – she and her uncle looked at each other horrified, for this was not their plan.

She was only going to be an accessory, he was going to be the one doing all the talking.

"Your Holiness, I…"

"Get out."

Her uncle pressed his lips together and grunted, bowed his head and left, not even bestowing a glance on her despite the despair written on her face, leaving her to her fate.

She swallowed loudly as the door closed behind him and intertwined her hands in front of her, not knowing what to do, where to look, a cold sweat on her back.

"Do not be afraid, child. I know your uncle's nature. If I didn't let him bring you here he wouldn't let me alone." He began reluctantly, as if the very fact that he had to talk to her made him very tired; he moved with his hands entwined behind him ahead, walking along the windows, his profile illuminated by the sun.

She lowered her gaze, feeling a wave of shame surge through her, understanding that he knew perfectly well what her uncle wanted.

That it wasn't just about his image, but that he, as a cardinal, wanted his favour and the high position, money and comfort he could give him.

"What do you think of my decision not to show myself in public?" He asked finally; she raised her eyes at him, surprised, horrified that she had to answer. She swallowed loudly and licked her lips, dry of stress, thinking intensely about what she should say.

"Go on. You're supposed to know it, after all, it's an image issue." He growled and looked at her with an anger that sent a shiver through her; she stared at him in disbelief and fear trying to decide what kind of man he was.

She wasn't sure this was how a pope should behave.

"Driving here I saw people holding cardboard sheets saying: Our Pope does not love us. I felt sadness at the thought that many people feel rejected by your decision, Holy Father." She said at last, feeling that involuntarily her voice trembled and broke; she saw him tighten his lips, his nostrils moved nervously in accelerated breathing.

"Is love a perpetual vying for attention, standing in the centre? Is love only the deeds that can be shown, that anyone can see and name?" He asked frustrated, and she felt a squeeze in her throat, her lower lip quivered. She shook her head.

"People are afraid of what they do not know. You don't let them meet you, Holy Father." She whispered, and he snorted, turning back, going the other way, as if thinking over her words.

"So you think I should speak? Go out on the balcony and give them what they want?" He asked dryly. She let the air quietly out of her lungs, feeling her body tense all over – she had the feeling that she had adopted a defensive posture, as if ready for him to hit her.

"No. But I think it is necessary to find a way in which they can see you, Holy Father. To feel that you are in their lives physically as well. They need a guide, not another invisible God." She said finally and fell silent, lowering her gaze, feeling that her last sentence might have been too far-fetched.

She noticed with horror that he stopped hearing what she had said.

"You think I'm doing this out of vanity?" He asked in disbelief. She lifted her gaze to him, for some reason feeling that she was on the verge of crying.

"I don't know, Holy Father. I do not know you, nor do any of your faithful. We are sheeps who do not know where to go and where is their shepherd. Do you think we are too sinful? That we don't deserve to see you?" She asked finally in a trembling voice, his healthy eye fixed on her.

Our Pope does not love us.

She shuddered, feeling the rapid pounding of her heart as he moved towards her with a slow, lazy step, not taking his eyes off her, towering over her. She didn't know what she saw in his gaze, proud and cool; she felt heat in her lower abdomen as the pleasant scent of his masculine perfume filled her nostrils.

She thought he had approached her far too closely.

She froze and swallowed loudly as he lifted his hand; she thought for a moment in horror and disbelief that he would touch her breasts, however, he grasped her golden cross in his hand and turned it between his fingers, looking at it thoughtfully.

"I am not a hypocrite. There is no greater sinner in this world than me. I am vain. I am proud. I am cold. I am eternally, eternally thirsty." He murmured softly and looked into her eyes, her lips slightly parted in disbelief.

She felt panic begin to overtake her body as her insides throbbed wonderfully hard at his ambiguous, unsettling words.

Something about him she found disturbing, even though she was surrounded by whiteness and daylight it seemed to her that the room had gone dark.

She was only able to breathe and look at him, nothing more.

"Do you believe in God?" He asked, still playing with her necklace, however, he did so in such a way that once in a while his fingers rubbed against the material of her dress lying between her breasts, each time a wonderful shiver ran through her spine.

There was something evil, menacing, lewd in the way he asked the question, in the way he acted and the way he looked at her and she knew it, she was horrified by how strongly her body reacted to it.

"Yes." She whispered, as if she was admitting something she was ashamed of, something that was her secret.

He hummed again under his breath, as if accepting her words – his hand let go of her necklace and returned to the other, placed behind his back.

"I'm hiring you. You will be my image specialist. I expect you here tomorrow at 8am. That's all. You may go." He said indifferently, turning away as if nothing had happened; she sighed quietly, terrified, and nodded with a rapidly pounding heart.

"Holy Father." She mumbled, then turned and walked out.

Her uncle ran after her asking her what they were talking about and what had happened – he made the sign of the cross with some kind of relief on his face when she told him in horror that he had hired her.

"What did you say to him about me? I'm only in my second year of university, I don't have the right experience yet." She muttered in a trembling voice; her uncle sighed, correcting his glasses on his nose with his pointing finger.

"He doesn't care about your experience." He said amused, and she looked at him in disbelief.

It suddenly dawned on her what her uncle had been planning all along, and what she had gotten herself into because of her foolishness and naivety.

There is no greater sinner in this world than me.

I am eternally, eternally thirsty.

She felt a squeeze in her throat, tears filling her eyes again as she moved forward, covering her mouth with her hand, distraught, humiliated.

Her uncle didn't want her to be his worker.

Her uncle wanted her to be his lover.

_____

Aemond Taglist:

(bold means I couldn't tag you)

@notnormalthings-blog @nikstrange @zenka69 @bellaisasleep @k-y-r-a-1 @g-cf2020 @melsunshine @opheliaas-stuff @chainsawsangel @iiamthehybrid @tinykryptonitewerewolf @namoreno @malfoytargaryen @qyburnsghost @aemondsdelight @persephonerinyes @fan-goddess @sweethoneyblossom1 @watercolorskyy @randomdragonfires @apollonshootafar @padfooteyes @darylandbethfanforever9 @fudge13 @snh96 @rwdkarla

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elsweetheart · 10 months

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omg idk if this is ok to ask since you’ve never written for hazel but like what do you think her reaction to you mindlessly wearing a super short skirt in front of her would be like… maybe ur like freshly into the relationship n didn’t have sex yet so she’d go crazy i 🤭

no because she’s so silly and awkward but like so horny ♡

waiting in line for your iced latte at the university cafe and she’s backed up a few steps, literally removing her arm from around your shoulder so she can ogle at you without looking like a total creep. you look back to glance at her and she nearly does a full spin trying to pretend she wasn’t looking — and she wasn’t! honest! she was trying to read the rhinestone lettering on the tiny pink skirt that just happened to be spelling something out across your ass!

you didn’t even say anything or acknowledge her gaze, and yet excuses come tumbling suddenly — “n-no—i wasn’t — you had a…” she waves her hand like she’s casting a fucking spell, mumbling something about a stain and your attention is captured again by the barista handing over your drink, paying no attention to hazels rambling as it certainly wasn’t out of character. it’s only back in the safety of your dorm when she brings it up again, because she quite literally cannot keep her eyes off the skirt so she figured she should say something, you know out of politeness.

“so, ‘that a new skirt or?” she trails off hoping it sounded casual and nonchalant. you stand from where you’re sat at your desk, absolutely elated that she noticed the tiny skirt you wore just for her, and she’s breaking into a grin of her own at how cute you were when you were excited. god, she was down dreadful.

“yes! i literally went to get it from the post room yesterday, it’s so cute — it says spoiled across the ass look!” you turn around, twisting at the waist to look down at it yourself. hazels eyes widen naturally, rubbing her sweaty hands on her knees, self soothing so she didn’t nut in her pants there and then. the swell of your ass peeks from beneath the skirt, having ridden up and her mouth waters. she wants to bite the flesh there, not in a weird way or anything just… shit.

“y—i mean, yeah it’s…” she stands up, wandering over to you gently slapping her fist into the palm of her opposing hand, smile fading into more of a smirk— not cocky just… relaxed. whatever it was, it made you bat your lashes a little. “you kinda have this thing where you look good in everything you wear?” she squints, leaning back a little, her voice getting higher as if she was gently breaking news to you. “but the skirt is really pretty. you’re really pretty.” she smiles simply.

you feel all hot in the face and appreciated, rolling your glossy lips over eachother (which she doesn’t miss, her eyes flickering downwards chanting ‘oh fuck’ in her head undoubtably.) “well im glad. i did buy it because like… i don’t know, wanted you to like it.” you get all shy on her and she smiles even bigger.

“well i definitely do. a little too much.”

you giggle and so does she, your fingers interlocking where they hang before you lift them up, looking up sweetly through your lashes to kiss the ring on her knuckle. she shouldn’t get a shiver up her spine from that, because it was pretty innocent— but she was having some urges all of a sudden. she gently shakes a hand free and cups your cheek. “you uh— missed my mouth.” her voice gets breathy towards the end of the sentence as she closes in, pressing her lips to yours.

#anon #hazel callahan drabble #hazel bottoms drabble #hazel callahan x reader #hazel callahan prompt #hazel callahan blurb

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angelicsjn · 1 year

Text

LATEN REED.

Laten didn't believe in love at first sight. He never felt much for anyone at all, really.

He would hop from one person to another, hoping to feel something. Even if it only lasted a few minutes.

This caused himself quite the reputation, a good-looking guy, talented and popular but also a player.

Some people saw him as a challenge, as a trophy to say, 'I fucked him too.' While others decided to stay as far as possible.

Deep down, all he truly cared for was his family and rugby. That was it.

The third month into university and his reputation became a well-known thing. You were one of the few people who avoided him at all costs. If he walked one way, you'd walk the other. If he went to a party, you'd make sure you'd be far away.

Seeing the campus beauties hanging around him, grabbing his big and muscular arms, playing with the soft curls of his hair, complimenting his beautiful green eyes, he'd smile back, act shy, and shrug. So humble!!

All in all, Laten Reed wasn't a very likeable person, and you most definitely did not like him.

You could see right through that little act of his, and with time, it made your blood boil.

Fifth month into university, a party on a Sunday. Who decided a Sunday party would be wise? You went anyway, after an hour of begging from your flatmates.

One of your friends, Maddie, recently became friends with Laten's close knit group, and she couldn't wait for you to meet them all! You wanted to scream and cry and hide..

A game of spin the bottle, you won a once in a lifetime opportunity! Fifteen minutes locked in the bedroom with Laten Reed. THE Laten Reed. How lucky!!

Laten didn't even know who you were before that night. You were some insignificant person that blended in the crowd, so why would he know you? Obviously, you weren't worthy of his acknowledgement.

That's what you'd assume anyway. You expected his mindset to he exactly that when, in reality, it was quite the opposite.

Did he know you before that party? No. He didn't. But once he locked eyes on your form an hour before the game of spin the bottle, he couldn't look away.

Laten couldn't really understand why, you ghosted yourself around the people, you didn't speak to anyone outside your little bubble and it was almost like you did everything in your power to not gain attention and yet at the same time you had his full attention.

He realised you were friends with Maddie. It took him a while to register that fact because he was so invested in you and the mystery of you.

How had he never seen you before?

That's when he wormed his way in using the mutual friend to force interaction between you two. But that didn't work. You avoided even looking his way.

Why didn't you like him? He wanted to see you properly, but you hid yourself behind shy hands and hair.

Skipping to the fated game, you filled with dread when the bottle landed on you both. He noticed it. He had been watching you all night. He saw every emotion that flickersd across your masked features, and it annoyed him that he couldn't see more.

Unlike yourself, he felt lucky to be able to be stuck in a room for fifteen minutes with you.

You begrudgingly followed behind. He locked the door as told and watched as you sat on the bed awkwardly. Looking at your lap and it was like he could hear you mentally chanting, "I want to go, I want to go, I want to go."

You expected him to move onto you, sit beside you with a hand on your thigh, whispering against your ear and you shudder at the thought, but instead, he sat on the floor in front of you, crossing his legs with green eyes looking up at you.

If your distaste towards him wasn't so big, you'd have found him sweet. Cute. Innocent. Three things he most definitely wasn't. You immediately shook those thoughts out of your mind.

Yet he watched you, he could see your features better and God, you were mesmerising. He had never felt that way before, not about anything or anyone.

For once, Laten didn't want to prove his reputation to be true. He didn't want to sexualise the moment. He just wanted to watch. To look. Admire.

How you played with your fingers. Looked at the floor, avoiding contact. How you awkwardly shifted on the bed attempting to appear comfortable.

"I'm Laten." He said, simple. He knew you'd know. Everyone knew Laten. He just wanted to speak. To hear you speak to him. "Y/N." You replied, quiet, yet blunt, and he smiles. You noticed his smile, sweet. Cute. Innocent.

You could almost understand why girls easily got so used by him. He was beautiful. His sparkly eyes watched you, the smile lingered on his pretty lips, and you almost felt your heart beat faster than usual.

Nothing compared to him, though. He was enchanted by you.

From then on, you noticed him look at you a lot on campus, each party you both attended. He began to show up in places you hadn't seen him in before, and he'd smile that smile, and each time, you'd momentarily forget his reputation.

Little did you know, he didn't go to these places by chance, oh no. He followed. Since the day he saw you, he'd watch you. Forever. Watching. Admiring. Observing.

#darling reader #darlingcore #yandere #yandere oc #yandere oc x reader #yandere oc x y/n #yandere oc x you #yandere x darling #yandere x reader #yandere x you

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mastermindmiko · 11 months

Text

Muggle world hideout

Pairing: Regulus Black + fem!reader

Word count: 6232

Summary: After stealing Voldemort's horcrux, Regulus seeks shelter as a normal boy in the muggle world.

Warnings: smut, hiding out from death eaters? kissing, teachers, university classes

an: it was time to have a regulus one out there

Hey! if you think this didn't completely suck, feel free to check out my masterlist

The bus ride throughout muggle London was always dull. He doesn’t regret the decision he’s made but he was still among magic; or at least some aspects of it. He had previously weighed his options and this was the best one; he still stands by this decision. He acquired the horcrux and from his first attempt to destroy it, Voldemort found out about his wishes and knowledge. He ran to muggle London to find a way to destroy it under a secret identity. It has been a month and no one from the wizarding world has found him. He knew he would be well hidden here.

One of the ways for him to stay under a normal teen identity was to do the same things that they do. At his age, muggle children usually go to university. He knew of no such thing, he assumed it was the muggle NEWTs; considering that he found out that OWLs are similar to O levels. However, he needed to blend in; so he decided to do the same. He had bought a flat in a random place, in the city. His father died a bit before he acquired the horcrux, so had his inheritance money. He had a lot of it, and considering that one sickle is almost six euros; he didn’t have to worry about running out of money any time soon.

After a lot of research and awkward interactions from his neighbor -the same one that told him about universities and o levels-, he found a university. He applied late -as they told him- and after a lot of persuasion they agreed to let him enter. He just needed to tell them what his major should be on the first day, which just so happened to be today.

He sat in the back, right corner of the bus; and he felt the bus stop once again. He thought it was the last stop considering that there were only two seats empty, both of which were beside him. He looked out the window to approve his assumptions and he saw the prettiest girl he’s ever seen. She stood up and he found himself mentally chanting, hoping that she would get on the bus. He didn’t know why he did that, the fact was almost completely confirmed without his manifestations. When she stepped inside, he had a neutral facial expression; but his heart was leaping. It never had done that before.

He had no one idea what to pursue, he knew that the war wasn’t ending any time soon; and that his money wasn’t infinite. So he had to find a muggle job. He couldn’t tell them about his excellence and liking for potions, therefore he was stumped. He had no idea what muggle majors are, was there some type of auror?

The bus ride to the university was dull. They kept stopping at what he assumed were bus stops, and the people were less than friendly. The people reminded him of the families that were at his parents’ balls. They looked at his clothes weirdly, even though what he was wearing was considered very fashionable. He ignored their gazes, looking poised. He had many years to learn that skill, and he intends to use it.

You sat in your usual seat, beck, left corner in the bus. You saw the most gorgeous man, one seat away from yours. He was looking at you and the sun covered half his face, if anything it added to his beauty. You were most intrigued by the scar he had above his eyebrow and it looked painful. You averted your gaze from the scar, you didn’t want to seem rude. He was wearing odd clothes, but you were sure that they were incredibly luxurious and up to trend about a hundred years ago. You had found yourself a history geek and you couldn’t say you weren’t one. Finally assessing his gaze on you, you smiled at him. He didn’t return it, but you could see the corners of his lips turn up slightly.

You sat down, and you got out your poetry book. You started reading William Blake’s poems. You were supposed to pick your favorite poem and write an essay about it, filled with everything you could possibly talk about; concerning the poem. The assignment was given at the orientation to be handed in at the first session of the Poetry course. Your mind couldn’t fathom the beautiful words of ‘Auguries of Innocence’ due to the new presence of the pretty boy beside you.

“What’s your major?” He asked, looking at you. The unfamiliar words tasted weird on his tongue. There were a few beats of silence until he raised his eyebrow and you realized he was talking to you. “Um, English Literature and Political Science.” You answered. You weren’t able to pick between the two, so you simply chose both.

“That’s two?”

You hummed melodically indicating a yes and he nodded in understanding. He looked out the window and you contemplated either mirroring his actions or adding more to the conversation, though you could hardly call it that. “What about you?” you asked as you watched him write something down on a piece of paper. The way he held his pen was abnormal, but you paid no mind to it.

“Same thing.” He replied, he finished writing his chosen major on the paper. He was sure that if he didn’t write it, he would forget it. It was a weird invention, the pen. It was much more practical, he agreed with that; but he wasn’t used it. Therefore, he kept reaching out to dip it in ink, when there wasn't any. He had to remind himself that the ink was in the pen and that he couldn’t just take out a quill and ink pot.

You furrowed your eyebrows at the answer. You enjoyed the thought of being able to see his pretty face, but how had you not seen him before. You cracked your mind for answers, and then you asked, “Were you at the orientation?”

“No, I applied late.” There were no orientations at Hogwarts, he didn’t know such a thing existed; until the people at the admissions office told him that he missed it. You bit the insides of your cheeks and you nodded. You were able to take a hint, he was giving you short answers so he obviously didn’t want to talk to you. Suddenly, the unattractive scenery outside the bus seemed much more appealing; even though you had seen this road a million times before.

“What’s that?” He nodded towards the blank paper and book on your lap. You looked at them quickly then back at him. “That’s um the assignment that’s due today.” You said slowly, then added “That I didn’t do.” You heard a noise that sounded like a laugh, but you weren’t sure from how quickly it went and came.

“Am I supposed to do this assignment?” You nodded your head as a reply. You looked at the empty seat between you both, and said “Do you mind?”

“Not at all.”

You took the seat and you started to explain the task. You found out that ‘Regulus’ -you complimented his name when you found out- is taking the same courses as you are. He was scribbling some things down furiously, but you paid no mind to it. You offered to take a tour around campus and he agreed. As Regulus sat in the bus with you, he thought that maybe bus rides wouldn’t be as dull anymore.

***

“We have exactly 15 minutes until class starts.” You said as you checked your wrist watch. You were sitting on one of the benches surrounded by greenery. “You should probably head to the class, you wouldn’t want to be late on your first day.”

“Isn’t this your first day too?” Regulus said as he finished writing his essay, cleanly on another piece of paper. He insisted that he doesn’t hand in the scribbling paper that he used for the first draft of his paper. He finished writing his essay down freshly and he chose the poem ‘London’.

You nodded as you stood up “Yeah, but I’m not really punctual so I’m going to be late a lot throughout the year. I wouldn’t want to give the teacher expectations, so might as well be late from the start.” You smiled at him when you finished the sentence. In the past hour and a half you’ve grown quite both fond and comfortable with Regulus.

“I’ll save a seat for you.” He said, as he placed his essay in his bag. You nodded as thanks, and you started walking away from him. “See you in class!” You shouted even though you were not far enough for him to not hear you if you spoke normally. You winked at him then spun around to talk to other people around you. His heart skipped but he paid no mind to it as he walked around to find the room that he’s supposed to be in.

When he finally found the classroom he sat on one of the chairs in the middle, and he placed his book bag beside him to save you a seat. The teacher had already started talking about the overview of the course. She also stated how much he hates people who don’t take their classes seriously and Regulus assumed that you were in trouble.

You stumbled into the classroom and the teacher stopped talking to look at you disapprovingly. “Sorry, I’m late” The teacher hummed and you started walking to your seat. “The essay, if you remembered.”

You spun around taking your essay out of your bag and handing it to the teacher. She looked at it with a raised eyebrow. The handwriting was messy and ink was spilled around it, anyone could barely tell where a paragraph starts and ends. She could tell you finished it late, and she assumed that you were late because you were finishing it. She took it from your hands and placed it on her desk. Your eyes scanned the room for Regulus and you found him and the empty seat beside him. You walked to him and sat beside him.

“Not a very good first impression is it?” He leaned closer to you and he looked at you as the teacher started talking once again. You turned your head to look at him and you smirked. You shrugged your shoulders as you realised your faces were close, too close. You saw his eyes trail down to your lips and you bit the inside of your cheek.

“I do not tolerate laziness and people who don’t take assignments seriously.” You looked at the teacher and you found out that she was looking at you. Regulus snickered slightly so when the teacher averted her gaze from you, you elbowed him roughly.

You leaned to whisper something in his ear, “What are you doing tonight?” You looked at him, hopefully. You had some ideas planned, if he wasn’t free today; maybe he’d be free someday else.

He looked at you and said “Nothing that can’t be rescheduled.” You smiled and you looked back at your notes. You scribbled an invite on the sticky note and then you discreetly placed it on Regulus’ desk. He furrowed his eyebrows then he read your note. A smile was on his face when he nodded. You returned the smile. You had something to do today.

His robes were completely wet as was his hair. He was, however, most sad about his ruined ice cream. When it started raining both of you headed inside the closest shop and it happened to be an ice cream shop. You ordered Vanilla and Regulus ordered Chocolate. He seemed cautious tasting the dessert but he liked it so much, he ordered another cone. He paid for both of you and you thanked him as you enjoyed your dessert.

***

You were walking down the road with Regulus beside you. You both had ice cream in your hands. The world smelt like petrichor, because of how it rained today. The busses and cars’ wheels were splashing around in the water and you were careful not to get soaked. You couldn’t say the same thing about Regulus. He was closer to the street, and you couldn’t say that you didn’t put him there on purpose.

After the rain settled you decided to head to the next stop on your journey, which Regulus didn’t know. You were surprised at the courage he had following you around, not asking where you’re even heading. It seemed weird to you, how both of you could get so close without even knowing each other for a decent 12 hours.

He looked at his soaked ice cream with sadness, but the scene was still hilarious. He heard you burst out laughing at how he looked. He could only imagine how he must’ve looked. He looked in envy at your completely dry tasty looking ice cream, but he laughed at the situation shortly after. He loved your laughs, he was sure he never heard anything as beautiful. It seemed ironic the situation that he was in. In all of his years he never even so much looked at a person in a romantic aspect even though he had the chance to do so on multiple occasions. However, now, not even having spent a day with you, he feels like he’s falling hard. He’s still slightly grateful that meeting you happened now, when he believed that pureblood supremacy was complete bullshit. The last thing he could’ve wanted is meeting you when he had all this pent up prejudice, and pushing you away.

After both your laughter died down, you made a change in plan. Instead of going to the movies now, you’ll go to the clothes shop. You spun around and started to go in the opposite direction. He was surprised and quickly tried to reach in step with you. He asked “Where are we going?”

“I’m abducting you.” You said with a smirk. A flash of fear flashed through his eyes, and you quickly added, “You just finally asked where I’m taking you. We’re going to the clothes shop.”

He raised one eyebrow and he asked “Why would we do that?”

“Well because you said you didn’t want to attract any attention-” You started as you recalled the conversation you had with him while you were showing him the campus. “And let me tell you with the clothes that you’re wearing, you couldn’t attract any more attention. Honestly, where did you live before uni? The 17th century!”

He laughed at your statement, and he let you continue. “So we’re going to get you some normal clothes.” He nodded along with you and he placed his clean spoon in his pocket along with his other hand. You suddenly put your hand out in front of you and he looked at you in confusion. You motioned for him to give you whatever he hand, and he gave you his spoon. You placed it in your ice cream as you said “Eat it with me-” You saw him open his mouth to protest but you said “You paid the least I could do is let you eat with me, considering the tragic death of your own ice cream.”

He chuckled and proceeded to do exactly that. You both eating together cause you both to be close to each other. Somewhere along the road Regulus decided that bumping arms wasn’t comfortable for him anymore so he linked your arms together. You were glad that it was night time so he couldn’t see your face flush.

“Yes.”

***

The next session, you were actually late. You tried to enter the class discreetly, but you were stopped by the teacher. “Miss Y/L/N”

“Do you think this class is a joke? Why are you late again? This is going into your file-” the teacher rambled more about your lack of punctuality but after a lot of experience you learned how to tune teachers out quite well. You were smart and you knew that. You just didn’t enjoy doing the homework and you had a problem with time. Time is relative, so why is she making a big deal out of this?

You heard silence so you managed to reply with the same answer that seemed to satisfy every teacher. “I’m sorry, I’ll try harder next time.” You learned that there was no use of fighting with teachers like this. You heard a few people chuckle lightly. They were with you in other courses, so they heard you answer this many times before. They weren’t surprised in the slightest.

She hummed, approving of your answer and you couldn’t help but smirk. She motioned for you to sit and you walked to your place that Regulus once again saved for you. He looked great in the clothes you helped him pick out, then again he would look good in a potato sack. You smiled at him and he gave you a tight lipped smile. You queried your eyebrow, questioning his weird attitude. He lifted his paper and he showed you a D on the essay he did. You gave him a sympathetic smile and you looked on your desk, you couldn’t find your essay anywhere.

Regulus placed a sticky note on your desk, and it said ‘can you tutor me?’ You looked at him weirdly and you scribbled back ‘how do you know that I’m good enough to do that?’ He smirked at your answer and he tilted his head towards the person that was giving people papers.

“As you should know by now, I pick the best essay to discuss with the class; so everyone can learn from good examples.” You received your paper with a big A star. “We’re going to be discussing Miss Y/L/N’s essay.” She didn’t look at you throughout the lesson.

You leaned towards Regulus and you said “I swear I don't know if that woman loves or hates me.”

“I think it depends.” He replied, and he looked at you with a fond smile. He used legilimency on the teacher before you entered the class. “Congratulations by the way.” He whispered. You shrugged your shoulders, “It’s not a big deal.”

“It is, so will you tutor me?”

It’s March now. Your courses have been going well, and tutoring Regulus has been great for both of you. You both knew that he didn’t need any tutoring, but you couldn’t stop spending extra time with him. It wasn’t like he was complaining much anyway. “Are you going to the party tomorrow?”

“Meet me in the library after all our courses. Oh and by the way, you look great.”

***

“Uh, party?” He asked as you both waited for the elevator to reach the fifth floor. Your arms were brushing against each other, and you could feel butterflies erupt in your stomach. He linked your arms again, it seemed like a habit he developed; and you enjoyed it more than you would care to admit. Since September you had completely fallen for him.

“Yeah star, we finished exams. So they’re throwing a party tomorrow.” You said, you enjoyed the nickname that you gave him after your first tutoring session. He told you that it was a family thing, being named after stars and constellations; and you thought it was completely adorable. So you couldn’t resist calling him star. He doesn’t open up much about his family, but you don’t push him. You can tell that it bothers him. After he disappeared for two months, December and January; he came back much happier. He tried to gain your forgiveness after leaving suddenly without any warning, and eventually he succeeded; you couldn’t stay mad at him for long anyway.

“Are you going?” He asked, looking at you. Voldemort was defeated back in January. His brother and the Order contacted him after they discovered the Hocroux secret, and he was glad to help. He didn’t know how his brother found him, but since all the Marauders spend a lot of time in the muggle world, it wouldn’t be too far-fetched. It felt like this enormous weight was lifted off his shoulders, and that he was finally free to do whatever he liked. His parents were dead but he didn’t care that much anyway, he got his share of his inheritance and so did his brother. After they put Pettigrew in Azkaban they wanted a fourth honorary Marauder, and Sirius wanted him to fill the spot. His relationship with Sirius was mended, and Sirius wanted him to stay in the new place he bought along with Lupin, but he declined the offer. You were here,and it wasn’t like you could go to the wizarding world without being married to him first. It was already bad enough spending two months without you, let alone the rest of his life. “I’m going if you’re going.” You replied.

You looked up at him and he looked at you. “I’m going then.” You smiled at him and you nodded. You assessed his face for a while longer, you always did that. Regulus’ heart would beat irregularly when you do. It’s annoying how much he likes you. From the stupid, irresponsible way you are never on time, to the way you always look up when looking out of a window. He doesn’t know why you do that, most people look at the ground or the buildings; but you look at the sky and clouds. What is so interesting up there anyway? There weren’t any birds or any planes. He felt blessed in every way to have someone like you, be near him; and he honestly thought he didn't deserve to have you as a friend, let alone a lover. You reached for the scar above his eyebrow, you don’t know this but he got it from the inferi attack. It’s a constant reminder of what he has to go to. What he has done. He’s able to place a concealment charm on his dark mark, but when he placed the same charm on his scar, it made his vision blurry. He also didn’t mind how close you were every time you looked at it.

“It looks like it hurt.” You whispered, softly as you touched his scar. He hissed and you quickly pulled your fingers away. You heard him whisper, “That’s cause it did.”

You sighed and you continued to look at it. Your eyebrows furrow as you thought of all the possibilities that could have caused the scar. Regulus saw your expression and he sighed. He has never felt insecure about his face, he knew he was good looking. He shared that with Sirius, the big ego. When he got the scar, he just thought it looked ugly. He hoped you didn’t think the same, “It looks hideous doesn’t it?”

Your eyes flashed to his, and you tilted your head slightly in confusion. He was leaning slightly so you could be closer to him. He always did that, another habit he developed around you. You looked into his eyes, that you loved so much. It seemed like such an odd thing for someone’s favorite color to be gray, but you knew it wouldn’t seem that odd if they saw his eyes. If you could look into them forever you would, you didn’t know that he wished to do the same thing with your’s. “I think the opposite actually.”

The elevator music might have ruined the intimate atmosphere, but you leaned on the tips of your toes and you pressed your lips to his. He kissed you back immediately, and you pulled him closer by his neck. You were kissing each other passionately. You pulled him by his shirt and you placed your tongue in his mouth. He grabbed your hips and pulled you closer. You pulled away to breathe properly. You looked into his eyes and his hair was ruffled and you assumed yours was the same.

The door opened and you realised it was the third floor. His face was neutral, so you assumed that he didn’t like you. He just liked to kiss you, you knew you were a good kisser; so maybe that was it. Maybe you read the situation completely wrong. You walked out the elevator, and it wasn’t even the floor you needed to be on. You’ll just take the stairs.

Your eyes unintentionally searched the room for Regulus, and your eyes connected from across the room. He was leaning back on the couch, his legs spread apart, and his hand resting on the couch’s arm rest. Your mind ran with the sight, and you could tell he was doing the same when his eyes trailed your body, and he liked his lips. You could feel your stomach churn and with the added liquid courage, you walked to him.

***

You didn’t even know why you’re here right now. The alcohol was burning down your throat, however you were very conscious of your surroundings. Your friend told you yesterday that Regulus told her that he needed to talk to you. You didn’t even know if he was going to be here, but you were and you hoped he was too.

“You said you wanted to talk to me.” You said as you sat beside him on the couch. He hummed, looking at you with his wonderful gray eyes. “I like you-” Your eyes widened, “I really like you and I-” You cut him off with his lips on yours.

You put your hands on his shoulders with an intent to pull him closer, but he pulled away slightly. He assumed you wanted to push him away and that you were rethinking your decisions. However, the thought was out of his head when your finger went to his neck. You wrapped your hands around his neck and you pulled him closer, attaching your lips together.

He bit your lips and he pulled your lips to insert his tongue in your mouth. His tongue massaged yours and yours explored his mouth. He put his hands on your waist and he started to let his hands trail down when your kissing intensified. When his hands reached your hips, he pulled you on his lap, and you could feel a prominent bulge in his pants.

You let out a breathy sigh when your heat was over his bulge. You were on top of him so you couldn’t kiss him properly because of the angles on your lips. You lifted his chin with your thumbs and you kissed him feverishly. You could feel his own thumbs tracing heavy circles on your hips. It was arousing so your breathing rate increased.

Even Though you could clearly feel his hard cock through his pants, you wanted to turn him on more. So you ‘innocently’ ran your fingers through the hair on the nape of his neck while keeping your thumbs on his neck. You waited a bit, trying to get that perfect element of surprise; then you pulled his hair and squeezed his neck. He let out a loud sound between a groan and a choke. You were shocked by his reaction and you felt yourself getting wetter.

His eyes were wider than yours indicating that he didn’t know he could feel or do that. You could feel his cock twitch under you and you let out a breathy sigh that hitched. His hands went under your thighs and you squeezed them tightly. He stood up and you hooked your ankles behind his hips. He kissed you with great passion as he took you to an empty bedroom.

He threw you on the bed and you heard the bed creak loudly. He took off his shirt and he crawled over to you as he connected your lips together. His hands roamed your body and when he reached your chest, he squeezed one of your breasts. “Take them off.” You ordered and he took off your shirt and unhooked your bra gladly.

He took a moment to look over your body and he said “You’re so gorgeous.” Your panties were uncomfortably wet and you were impatient. “Then fucking touch me then.” you said, and he didn’t waste a second kissing, squeezing and sucking all over your chest. You took off your pants and panties, when you couldn’t stand the wetness anymore.

When you were entirely naked, he couldn’t stop admiring your body. Your face was flushed, your hair a mess and your chest was littered with love bites. He could’ve cum on the sight. His eyes trailed down to your wet pussy, and he looked at your glistening juices running down your thighs. He closed his mouth because he was sure he would drool if he kept it open. “Sit on my face.” He said laying down beside you.

“What?!” You said flushing a deep red. He rolled his eyes and he started to grasp your thighs. “I want to eat you out as you ride my face.” You didn’t speak for a while so he added “Only if you want to of course.” The reason for your silence wasn’t because you didn’t want to but because you really wanted to.

You aligned your entrance with his mouth. You placed both your thighs away from his face, the last thing you wanted was for him to run out of air in the middle of sucking your clit. Usually, Regulus would have kissed and bit your thighs, teasing you for a bit; but as soon as he smelt your arousal, he couldn’t wait to taste you. He liked a bold strip gathering all your juices that were leaking out.

Your legs shook and you got a small taste of what was going to happen in the next few seconds. You placed one of your hands on the head board of the bed and you threaded the other through regulus’ hair. The first was for stability and the second was for teasing. He started liking and sucking softly, making you feel impatient with how much he was taking his time.

You started to grind on his face and you could barely hear the bed creak when his nose would brush against your clit and you would moan. When you started riding his face, he got the hint and he started eating you out at a relentless pace. He grabbed your thighs and moved you faster. You were a moaning mess and your thighs were clenching around the sides of his face.

Regulus didn’t care that he could barely breathe. The prettiest girl he’s ever seen is riding his face, making the most beautiful voices he’s ever heard; and she’s the sweetest thing he’s ever tasted. As far as he was concerned, he was in heaven. His cock was painfully hard in his pants, he only started to feel it when you moaned his name loudly. He let go of one of your thighs and slipped his hand under his trousers. He was panting under you as he palmed himself, but it was all very much worth it.

“Ohh, Regulus!” You came harder than you ever did before from someone’s tongue. You could feel him swallowing all your cum and you felt his tongue run lines across your thighs, you assumed it was the remains of your cum that slipped down your thighs. When you came off his face, he had the most blissful expression on his face.

“You have to let me do that again. You taste like heaven.” Your eyes trailed down his body and you could no longer see a bulge . His cock was slipped out of his pants and underwear and you could see his cum around his cock. “Only if you let me return the favor sometime.” You could see his cock twitch at the thought. “You’re so messy. I can’t have you inside me like that.” You tutted and started to get up, away from the bed. He started to get up with you, eyes wide. “I’ll just have to clean you up.”

He placed his head back on the pillow and he was about to reach out to stroke his cock when you grabbed his wrist. “No touching.” You started to come closer to his cock, you pulled off his pants and underwear. You only smirked as you started to run your fingers up and down his cock. “You’re going to be the death of me.” You heard him both whisper and groan. You could only smirk and you started to feel him harden underneath your fingers.

You leaned down slightly and you looked up at him. His eyes connected with yours and he looked absolutely angelic. It was wonderful seeing him all messed up unlike his usual calm aura. You took his tip into your mouth, where most of the cum was gathered. He moaned when you licked his thighs and around his cock. He assumed you were going to give him head, you weren’t. You were simply doing what you said you were, cleaning him up. You gave him a few seconds to catch his breath and when you heard his breathing start to regulate, you took him in fully. You sucked, hard as his tip hit the back of your throat. He screamed loudly, and you were sure the entire party heard it. You clenched your thighs together.

Regulus was more vocal than you thought and you were loving it. His fingers threaded through your hair and you thought he was going to fuck your face; but you were pulled awya from his cock. “I want to be inside you, the first time I cum from you.”

“Needy for me, already.”

“Just hurry up.” He groaned and you were enjoying the power you had over him, so you added. “No really. Tell me how much you want me. How much you want to be inside me. Tell me darling, how many times did you touch yourself thinking of me-”

You were quickly flipped around and he thrust himself inside you. You screamed at the sudden force. He stopped waiting for you to adjust to his size as he leaned down to whisper “When I say hurry up, it means hurry up.” He started thrusting into you slowly, you heard the bed creak again; but you didn’t mind it. The pain turned into pleasure. So you started moaning “Faster.”

He obliged and he started to move quicker and quicker. When he hit your g-spot, you clenched around him tighter. “You’re so fucking tight.” You were sure he was moaning louder than you. You now considered that you were fucking him not the other way around. He kept repeatedly hitting the same spot until you started to see stars. He thrusted harder, and quicker, trying to get you through your high. However, just when you were about to finish cumming he started to cum too. You were on birth control so it wasn’t a problem. He was almost finished when the bed broke. You both tumbled on the floor as one of the legs broke.

He was still inside you when you said “How the hell are we going to fix this?” He chuckled as he pulled out of you, you hissed slightly. “Never mind that, how are we going to explain it?”

“There won’t be a need to explain anything. You were screaming loud enough that they heard you already.” You smirked, as you saw his cheeks turn redder.

“We should do that again sometime.” He said and he looked around the room for a glass of water. When he found it, he gave it to you. He cleaned you up and he placed the amount of money that was enough for the bed on it.

When you were walking out the building, he asked, “Do you want to stay with me tonight?” You looked at him before you said “Gee, star. Take me out on a date first.”

“We just fucked and you think that spending the night would be rash. Besides we can do that date thing tomorrow, I just want to hold you right now.” Your heart skipped a couple of beats. You nodded along with him, agreeing.

Walking back to Regulus’ flat reminded you of the first day you both met. You were now the one walking near the street, and he was far away from it. You knew he did it on purpose, even though it hasn’t rained lately, he still feels the need to make you pay somehow. Your arms were linked when he grabbed your other hand, and said “There’s something important I need to tell you when we get there.”

“That you love me?”

He smirked at how big your ego was sometimes. It wasn’t like he was any different, he thought of what it would be like when you meet his brother and Potter. Lupin would throw himself out the window. “Something else, but you have to promise you won’t send me to an insane asylum.”

You raised the hand that wasn’t connected with his and you said “I won’t. Consider it as thanks that you still haven’t sent me there yet.” He placed a kiss on your hand, and he said “I do, by the way.” you quirked your eyebrow. “Love you, I mean.”

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kisakis-boyfriend · 1 year

Text

Kinktober Day 6: Cockbulge

Pairings: Inui x male reader

Warnings: Male!reader, top/dom!reader, demon!reader, sub/bottom!Inui, sorcerer!Inui, size difference, teratophilia, overstimulation, mind-breaking, dacryphilia, blood from neck biting briefly

Prompt List by: sakuyaserenitykira 🧡

Author's Note: This ended up being very different from my original concept (and also way longer than intended) but I hope you enjoy what it turned out to be! :D Keep an eye out for this AU in a future kinktober installment 🤫

Inui was well aware of the dangers that this particular ritual held. Sure, any summoning ritual could go awry and become trouble quickly, but this spell was especially fickle. One tiny mistake or missed detail and he could summon something unwanted, possibly some eldritch creature that would destroy every known universe, but to him, the risks were worth it

He had spent so much time meticulously studying the circle that he'd need to draw, which materials you needed to place around said circle, offerings you were supposed to make, and even studying another language to learn how to pronounce the incantation correctly. Everything should be fine, it would all go perfectly and he would get what he wanted with no problems...

...He said to himself, sweating profusely as his arms carrying the backpack full of spellcasting materials trembled... Nevertheless, he marched onwards, deeper into the dark forest where you were supposed to carry out the ritual

Inui found the spot that he needed, a small clearing in the woods where the grass was noticeably softer and the breeze seemed calmer, where the only red flowers grew within the entire forest. This was where he began prepping for the ritual, casting the intricate circle with dried herbs, flowers, and crystals. Fixing several candles around the pattern and lighting them before stepping away to pull out his book of incantations, reading over the lines and practicing in his head. He waited about an hour, just as the instructions mentioned, before standing up and facing the circle. Taking a deep breath, he began the chant, repeating it three times as he walked around the summoning circle

He then put his book away and returned to the circle, stripping off his robes before laying down in the center, announcing his offering to the demon, “In return for your arrival and services, I have brought an offering of... myself. My flesh, my mind, and my soul are yours to do with as you please. Now, come forth!”

Tonight, Inui was uncharacteristically impatient. Normally he had no problems waiting for summoned creatures to appear, or waiting for spells to take effect. Tonight's spell, however, was very special. The being that he was desperately attempting to summon was a demon of lust, not an incubus or succubus, mind you. This was supposed to be leagues above those kinds of demons. And He was rumored to only appear before men that He found exceptionally attractive, which is what made this ritual difficult to find. Most of the sorcerers that committed to this summoning had no results, the demon refusing to come forth for anyone within the last 300 years, give or take...

Many people regarded this spell as nothing more than a hoax, claiming that it had probably become lost in translation somewhere and that was the reason it never worked. Some of the world's most handsome and skilled sorcerers attempted the summoning with no luck, so the magical realms deemed the spell to be fraudulent, because who wouldn't find these men attractive? That's what they all said, anyways. But Inui was tempted by the promises that this spell makes. Promises of "pleasure unlike anything this Earth could ever provide." And, "A love that no other could provide." These were loose translations of course, but Inui was tempted nonetheless. Hoping that if he was the one to finally summon the demon after all of these years, the other sorcerers would have to acknowledge his work, no longer able to poke fun at him or disregard his magic

He had other motivations for this summoning as well. The prospect of demon sex was very tempting...and since it was this demon's specialty, why not dedicate an entire year to studying the ancient books to bring this fantasy to life?

Inui's mind wandered as he awaited the creature's arrival. He closed his eyes, feeling the breeze glide through his hair and brush against his bare skin, his mind conjuring up scenes of what he imagined the demon would do to him. If it has claws, would it use those to scratch his delicate skin, drawing blood and licking it up with it's long tongue? If it has sharp teeth, surely it would sink them into Inui's tender flesh, marking him as it's human toy. And what about it's size, surely the demon would want to shove it's monster cock deep inside of him?

Inui began to squirm, his skin felt impossibly hot, as if he was on fire. His back arched as a single moan slipped out of him, rubbing his thighs together as his cock began hardening from the lewd thoughts. Suddenly, his hips burned, not in a painful way though, in a way that caused him to moan out once again

“My, aren't you an adorable little thing~ ” A low voice purred into Inui's ear, impossibly hot breath hitting his neck as a shiver crawled up his spine. His eyes snapped open to find a large creature hovering over his body, it's hands firmly gripping his hips and haunting yellow eyes boring into his, visibly glowing in the darkness of the forest

Inui wanted to say something, but the words died in the back of his throat, only able to gasp and pant as the demon loomed over his comparably small frame. “What's wrong, little one? Too stunned to speak?” A small noise escaped from Inui involuntarily, unable to process that this was actually happening. “Oh, darling, I hope you're not afraid of me now?”

Inui shook his head, not wanting the demon to leave him. “Good, good. ” It chuckled, brushing it's slender fingers against his cheek, trailing it's touch down the human's neck, smiling when Inui arched his back again, squeaking out some cute response and tilting his head up to expose his neck further

You slowly licked your lips, leaning down and grazing your sharp fangs against Inui's sensitive flesh, causing him to flinch and gasp. Gently kissing his neck, your hands traveling to his stomach and trailing your fingers downwards, stopping at the base of his dick. Inui whined in response, raising his hips up a bit to chase the addictive touch. Desperately wishing you would wrap those hands around his cock and–

“Already excited, are we?” Purring, you tapped his fully erect cock, eliciting a tiny noise from Inui. “Such a horny little thing, I haven't even touched it yet. Are you desperate for this kind of attention, sweet thing? Is that why you summoned me? ” You teased, baring your fangs and growling, just as hungry with lust as the sorcerer was. Depraved from worthy offerings for centuries now

“Take m-me...please...” Inui whispered. Spreading his thighs for you. You cocked an eyebrow at the request, the sorcerer's tone was meek, but you could sense the sincerity behind his words. Humming, you brushed a hand through Inui's hair, and he leaned into the touch, looking up at you through pretty blond lashes

“This is what you want, human? Once we start, I will not stop until you are marked with my seal. Are you certain that you can handle this? ”

Inui swallowed hard, taking a deep breath before his answer, “Yes. I want this, I want y-you...all of you. ” This greatly pleased you, a toothy smile spreading across your face as your slender tail swished from behind

“Very good~ Then let us begin, cutie~ ” You positioned yourself so that your face was hovering over Inui's cock, using your long, forked tongue to wet the member while your hands held the human's thighs apart. Inui moaned loudly when you swallowed his entire length at once, your mouth now flush with his pelvis. He instinctually grabbed your hair, tightening his fist as you bobbed your head up and down, sucking on the tip harshly. Teeth grazing against the bottom of his cock and causing Inui to keen, throwing his head back against the ground and letting out a high-pitched moan

Precum hit the back of your throat, coating your tongue and drawing out a moan when you tasted the familiar salty flavour. You couldn't help but moan around Inui's thick cock, the vibrations causing his dick to twitch inside of your mouth. Which only egged you on more, now bobbing your head faster, wrapping your long tongue around his shaft. Inui was losing his mind, vision blurry as it felt like he was getting a handjob and a blowjob at the same time

He cried out your name, his back arching impossibly high off of the ground, “G-gonna– Aaahhh—!!! ” Your eyes rolled to the back of your head as the sorcerer's load poured down your throat, greedily swallowing every last drop. You slowly let his cock slide out of your mouth, releasing it with a wet pop sound, tongue lolling out and a bit of cum sticking to it

Already spent, Inui panted heavily. But you were far from finished with this new toy, licking your lips and immediately sticking your tongue into the human's hole, eliciting a scream from him. “Oh– Oooohh fffuuuck~ ”

You continued to lick and slurp Inui's ass, working your tongue deeper inside of him and shoving it against his prostate, making him shout out broken moans. Sobbing as his ass was stretched just from that thick tongue

Retracting your tongue, you quickly replaced the wet muscle with two fingers, pumping them in and out of Inui's wet hole. His head felt fuzzy again as his ass was stretched further, it already felt as if he was at his limit, his arm draped over his eyes and chest heaving. You wrapped your other hand around Inui's dick, giving it a few pumps before rubbing over his slit with your thumb. The poor human hissed, biting his lip and clawing at your arms, his dick still sensitive from the previous orgasm

This did not deter you, however. If anything it only made you move faster and push your fingers in deeper, once again hitting Inui's prostate and leaving your fingers pressed against it. Ripping yet another orgasm out of him as your hand milked more cum from his cock, the thick fluid leaking all down your fingers

Inui slumped against the ground, almost hyperventilating from the overwhelming pleasure. With his strength rapidly leaving him, his hands fell onto the ground, releasing their grip on your large arms. You rubbed your hands over the expanse of Inui's chest, cooing sweet praises into your human's ear. “You're doing so well, sweetie. Releasing all of this lovely fluid just for me~” Inui could feel the rumbling in your chest as you spoke, voice low and gravelly. “But we're just getting started~ ”

Inui's eyes opened in bewilderment. He knew that this would require way more stamina than usual, human sex. What he did not expect was how every single touch from your clawed, calloused hands seemed to drain that stamina immediately and light every last nerve on fire at the same time. It was as if your touch injected him with lust, keeping him constantly horny enough to keep going even if he could no longer hold himself up

The familiar sound of clothing hitting the ground brought his attention back to you, having just removed your trousers. Which allowed your cock to spring free of it's constraints. Inui's mind appeared to go blank at the sight, drool falling from the corners of his mouth as he stared at your fully erect length. Most humans would say something along the lines of, “No way in hell is that thing going to fit!” But Inui Seishu was not most humans. Inui was, to put it crudely, a cockslut and a size king. Always craving the things that would stretch him open enough to shut off his mind, only able to moan and take inch after inch deeper into his body

These thoughts were not unknown to you, as every last kink and preference became known as soon as they laid down in the enchanted circle. Which is exactly why you chose him. Inui would be capable of taking everything that you could give him; he craved an experience such as this one, and you were more than happy to give it to him

As if your body had its own gravitational force, Inui inches closer towards it, beckoning you to slide into his tight hole. So you grabbed his waist, impossibly tiny within your grasp, and lined your demonic dick up with his ass. He gulped, glassy eyes trained on your cock as the tip disappeared inside of him, the stretch already burning in the most delicious way

“Shh, breathe for me, lovely. There's still so much more that needs to go in.” Those soothing words echoed in Inui's mind as another inch slid past that ring of muscles. His eyes rolling into the back of his head and mouth falling open in a silent moan. You soothed the human as best as you could, sliding in further and further until your dick had disappeared entirely. “Ooohh fuuucckk yeeesss~ ” You hissed, panting as his tight walls convulsed around your cock, his hips jerking upwards as cum painted his chest white

A devilish grin spread across your face, slowly thrusting into Inui's twitching body. He came just from feeling you bottom out inside of him. Such a good little pet for you.

A familiar tightening in your core caused you to speed up, chasing your first release of the night while your human was already on his third. Yet, you could sense the passion inside of him, he craved more. And more is exactly what you would give him. Slamming your hips against his roughly, you growled praises against Inui's neck, nipping him with your fangs and flooding his insides with searing hot cum

Still partially recovering from his earlier orgasm, Inui arched his back high off of the ground, wailing as you fucked him and filled him. His body going completely limp in your hands, breathing erratically and making the cutest fucked out noises

You took a second to catch your breath and revel in the sight before you. There was a large bulge in Inui's stomach where he was stretched around your cock, his insides pushed aside to make room for the impossibly large intrusion. His blond hair clung to his forehead, beads of sweat sliding down his skin from the intensity of it all. Your hand brushed some of the wet hair away, nails scratching against his scalp and pulling a soft whine from him

You couldn't stop the smile growing on your features, it'd been far too long since you had felt this way towards a human. Especially one that intentionally offered himself unto you like this one did. Hungry lips met Inui's soft ones, moving together harmoniously as your eyes fluttered closed, enjoying this moment before you gave him another orgasm

Inui moaned into the kiss when he felt your fingers brush against his nipples, playing with them so you could hear more pretty noises from your sweet human, humping into his wet hole as you did so. Inui gasped as your hips snapped into him harshly, pinching his nipples simultaneously. Your thrusts began to speed up again, causing him to throw his head back in total bliss, fucking him at just the right pace

The temptation to mark your cute pet up was far too strong, leaning down to press an open-mouthed kiss to his sensitive neck. Nibbling on the soft flesh as you fucked your previous load deep into his gut, thrusting faster and faster so that you could add more cum to the mess already within his walls, making the bulge in his stomach even larger. Inui whined loudly, tangling his hand in your hair and tugging at the roots, begging for you to cum in him again, “Please– Ah!! More...cum in me more... Fill me with your cock until I can't think of anything else– F-fuuck—!! ”

Cum flooded his insides once again, dick twitching as his gummy walls squeezed it all out of you, your hips surely hitting him hard enough to leave a bruise later on. Blood trickled down Inui's neck as your fangs pierced his delicate skin. Tears ran down his cheeks from the combined intensity of everything

Inui's dick became hard yet again, still glistening from his previous orgasms. “Sweet thing, will you cum with me this time? ” You cooed, wrapping a hand around his length. Slowly pumping it as you peered into his gorgeous green eyes. “Just give me one more, then you can rest. Can you do that, darling? ” Inui nodded languidly, his hips rolling into your fist on their own

You smiled at him in response, taking a deep breath before thrusting into him again. The reaction from him was immediate; his hips jerked forward, head turning to the side as a loud moan erupted from him, hands grasping at your wrist that was gliding up and down his member. But you continued on, cock reaching the deepest places inside of him, rearranging his guts completely as his body molded to your length

Inui clenched around your dick, his fourth climax just within reach, crying out your name while your thrusting became sloppy. One hand continued to jerk him off, twisting your wrist as you stroked upwards and eliciting high-pitched screams from him, while your other hand rubbed at the bulge in his stomach. Effectively jerking yourself off through his body, almost using him as a fleshlight

The way his mind just shut off was instantly noticeable. Inui's eyes became vacant, unable to look away from your lustful gaze. Little “Ah! Ah! Ah! ” noises escaping him with each rhythmic thrust, no longer capable of forming words as he becomes your dumb little doll. Arms and legs completely limp, the only thing really moving is his hips as they thrust into your hand, chasing yet another orgasm even though his mind is unresponsive to the overstimulation

“I really did fuck you stupid, didn't I, little one?” No response, unless you count the slightest change in the pitch of the human's moans as anything. “So good for me. Mm, cum with me now, let us complete this pact~ ”

With that, you fucked into Inui roughly, snapping your hips into his and vigorously pumping his cock. Biting your bottom lip as you grow closer to your release and finally cumming within Inui's tight ass as he squeezes you once more, his own release following only a second behind yours. His body twitched and writhed under your grasp as a glowing red seal was burned onto his stomach, the large mark spanning from just above his bellybutton to right above the base of his dick. The same mark as your summoning circle, a mark of ownership. Telling all manner of demons and other creatures that this one belongs to you

Caressing the newly etched seal, a wave of possessiveness washed over your features for a moment. Your darling human was fast asleep, exhaustion finally taking over after so much excitement. His soft features became illuminated by the moonlight and you couldn't help but smile fondly

You slowly and carefully pulled out of him, so as not to hurt him or rouse him from slumber. Soothing your hands over his body and kissing his pale cheek before lying down next to his side. You pulled him against your chest and spooned his small body, wrapping your tail around his leg. Placing a kiss on the top of his head, you whispered a few more praises and loving words into Inui's ear before drifting off with him

Tagging: @steadybreadbluebird @6kabuki

#my writing #kinktober #kinktober 2023 #tokyo rev smut #tokyo revengers smut #tokyo rev x reader #inui seishu #sub inui #male reader #dom reader #top reader #inui x reader #terato #sorcerer au #oneshot #inui smut

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sheisjoeschateau · 6 months

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"Oh, so we DO love Steve..." | Part IX (FULL)

⋆⁺₊⋆ ☾⋆⁺₊⋆ SERIES MASTERLIST ⋆⁺₊⋆ ☾⋆⁺₊⋆

Steve Harrington x Bauman!fem!reader enemies to lovers, heavy angst, hurt/comfort, upside down mayhem, S2-S4, post S4 universe hot-take, end-of-the-world / dystopian setting, ugly fights turned smut (...but with hella plot). 18+

CHAPTER IX WARNINGS/NOTES: t.w.'s - language, innuendo / sexual undertones, mention of dr*gs and abuse and childhood trauma, Max in a coma, talks about death, difficult confrontations. 18+

AUTHOR'S NOTE: This is the 9th chapter, written in full. Not action packed, but vital to the plot. Lots of beautiful moments in here that I really took my time with writing because at this point, I am just so in love with this concept. We learn more about Bauman's past. Steve and Jonathan finally have that talk. Murray is a proud uncle. The kids are adorable. Steve's dream isn't only his. And everyone prepares for doomsday.

Bonus: If you love the song "This Little Life," well then you are in for a treat. It heavily inspired this chapter, and it will be back...

PROOFREAD UNTIL MY EYES BLED. IF THERE ARE STILL TYPOS, SORRY BOUT IT. 18+

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Steve Harrington was no stranger to nightmares.

He’d learned how to endure them. Over the years, he made friends with his demons. So much so, it got to a point where he got too used to having them around. He just nodded at them as they lurked in the darkest corners of his sunshine mind, letting them exist as lonely, miserable wallflowers who were never noticed in the daylight when he was awake…waiting for their fleeting moment of popularity after dark, when his eyes were shut. He didn’t address them when he was awake. Because if he addressed them, that would mean they were real. But if he let them have their way at night, forgetting them the next day and acting like they did not exist, that meant they had no power over him. They didn’t mean anything. They were nothing.

They meant nothing.

At least, that’s what Steve told himself.

Every night before shutting his eyes, he steels himself for whatever hell he was going to face. From the ripe age of four, he learned to simply expect the unexpected when it came to sleeping. Sleep was never going to be his friend — whether he was sleeping alone, or with a friend, or holding naked girl in his arms. Steve was made to suffer in his sleep. His subconscious was a world that was built upon a foundation ruled by the reality of absent parents, being an only child, high school flings that left him longing and the endless search for love. It consisted of repeated dialogues — sometimes the incessant arguing between his parents, or the jabbering of Tommy H. and Carol, or hearing Nancy chanting bullshit, along with all the other voices of people who filtered in and out of his life. Bullshit, bullshit, bullshit.

Sometimes, Steve was running away from his own voice in his head. There were nights when, within his own nightmares, he himself was the nightmare. That really came into effect during his last year of high school and the summer after he lost Nancy. Adding the entire element of the upside down into his life only fed his nightmares. They were bad before, they were bad then, and they were worse now.

Trauma after trauma, loss after loss, fight after fight, bloodshed upon bloodshed.

Every punch to his eye. Every word slapped across his face. Every other worldly creature he was made to battle. Every moment he was paralyzed with fear of losing one of his kids.

Nightmares loved Steve. And they knew exactly where to find him, every single night.

But right now, sleeping next to you, it wasn’t nighttime. It was still day. Daylight shown through the windows of your assigned guest room in the Harrington house — curtains drawn, and the gloomy afternoon sky filtering the space around you both.

And here he was, fast asleep with his cheek resting on top of your chest, as your heartbeat thumped against his ear. One of his toned arms was looped around your waist, having closed his eyes and letting the steady rise and fall of your chest lull him to sleep. Steve had been fighting sleep for the last two nights. Especially the night after you died in his arms. He had just barely brought you back to life, and he knew that as bad as his nightmares had been before…all of them amounted to nothing compared to the nightmares that would undoubtedly follow him after that. Steve wanted nothing to do with sleep. He was damned for all eternity when it came to sleep, and it was sure to bring him a life of insomnia after the real life nightmare that he was made to face when wide awake.

That’s the beauty of being asleep: you have to wake up.

Steve told himself that every night before he went to bed. He told himself that no matter how bad it got, he would still wake up. And once he woke up, it would be over.

He learned to do that after he went to the county fair one year with his friends, back in middle school. He’d gotten on a ride, peer pressured by Tommy H. and not wanting to look like a chicken.

Every second of the ride, Steve was petrified.

He wanted off, he wanted off, goddammit let me off he shouted.

Then he remembered having been told by the county fair worker that the ride lasted four minutes. Steve took a deep breath, realizing he’d likely been on it for already half that time. So he counted to himself. Counting down the last half of the ride, he told himself over and over: eventually, this ride has an end.

Sure enough, when it did finally come to an end — and when everyone was let off the hellish escapade — Steve realized that he had found the glitch in the matrix. The warp in time. The secret superpower to conquering fear. Suddenly, he wasn’t so afraid anymore. Which is why now, whatever nightmare he was made to face, he would endure it — knowing that the sweet relief of waking up was just right around the corner.

And after all: stranger things had been proven real in Steve’s real life, far more than in his wildest dreams.

Loving you had turned out to be the strangest thing of all.

Even more so, the lack of nightmares that came with that was also strange…

Because right now, as Steve finally succumbed to sleep instead of fighting it, lying next to you…he was not trapped in a nightmare. His subconscious did not have him roaming the unpredictable pathways that led to the darkest corners of his mind. His demons had ceased their dance. Vecna, and all his other worldly monsters, were not the stars of this particular show. Steve was not trapped in the midst of jabbering chants coming from the voices of all the people that he loved, all the people who had betrayed him, or even the voice belonging to himself.

For the first time in years, Steve Harrington was dreaming.

It wasn’t anything drastic. Nothing that could exhaust him, to where any hours of sleep hadn’t felt like any sort of sleep at all. In fact, his subconscious state was…serene. Quiet, peaceful. It was almost unsettling in a way.

Little bursts of yellow — pastel and sunshine and lemon — colored the dark walls inside his mind. A light breeze gently wooshed in the distance, coming seemingly from nowhere but still fanning his face and the flop of his perfect hair. Somewhere, someone was humming. Almost like a bird, or the sound of a foghorn super far off in the distance. Maybe even the distant drums of a far away land. The rhythm came and went, but it kept him company. As if it were some little song made up in his head as he went along, saying, “Hey, I’m right here. We are in this together.”

On the other side of Steve’s closed eyelids, you laid beneath him in his yellow crewneck. The air you breathed softly, in and out of your nose, fanned across his forehead and his perfect hair. And while your heartbeat was not even, it was there — beneath his ear, drumming in a makeshift pattern, inventing its own rhythm as it went.

In the real world, your uneven heartbeat reminded you both that you yourself were not in the clear. Not yet.

But currently, in this new world that Steve’s subconscious had just discovered, it reminded him that he was no longer alone. Not with you.

In the real world, Hawkins is in trouble. Cursed.

And while none of you had figured out how to break that curse just yet, along with Vecna’s…one curse had been broken.

You’d broken the curse to Steve’s endless nightmares.

But would this world even allow for you both to explore a future together, in which you had broken this dark spell cast over Steve Harrington’s life…?

***

Seeing Nancy shuffling out of Argyle’s room is the last thing Jonathan ever could have expected. And he’d seen a lot of shit that prepared him for the unexpected.

The perplexed look in her eyes. The determination in her step to get the hell out of there, despite clearly having been given some sort of useful information after sharing God-knows-what conversation with his Cali best friend.

The two lovers at war made eye contact. It was quick, fleeting. But tense.

Eddie and Robin watched as Jonathan turned to stare at Nancy over his shoulder, and how she froze for a moment to stare back at him through her glassy, wide blue eyes. Her gaze, fixed on him, went from longing to hardened. Nancy walked away, and Jonathan letting her without a word only motivated her to keep walking.

And now, Jonathan had been in Argyle’s room for a good long while. Eddie and Robin had left behind their own little comforting conference of sorts to join the adults downstairs, while the kids had set off in other directions of the Harrington house.

But before that, during all the upstairs drama, Joyce and Murray had been having some drama of their own in the basement.

“You did what?!”

By now, Murray had recounted every single part of his story and how he’d played a huge role — along with you — in how her son had ended up with Nancy Wheeler. Murray’s once upon a time had rendered her speechless.

Even Hopper — who’d heard them go downstairs and immediately followed when he heard Joyce start rocking the boat as she pressed Murray for information — now stood there beside Joyce, having just listened to everything – stunned.

Because when in the world did you all have time to fall in love, fall out of love then fall back in love / new love like this? How the fuck were you all managing that on top of the upside down mayhem?

“May I remind you both how you two lovebirds have spent the last few years developing your own slowburn of a story arc?”

Murray’s question was dripping in condescension. But it was valid. It also came from the heart. He loved these two humans to death. And they loved him back.

While Joyce felt an enormous amount of joy that her son had ended up with the girl he loved…her heart ached for Steve. She’d grown to love him like her own over the years, especially these last several months as she lived under his roof. She had no idea just how broken up he’d been about Nancy. Joyce couldn’t help but feel…almost guilty.

But Hopper was shaking his head with a sort of proud grin, noting how as much as Murray had been the one to rock the boat — you had been its captain at the wheel. He pointed out how you had steered that wheel without even trying.

“Were they even friends in high school?” Hopper asked curiously. “Harrington and Bauman — I can’t see your niece even having time for him back then when he was a punk.”

Murray went on to proudly confirm that assessment, along with explaining how you’d simply participated in your Uncle Murray’s meddling because you happened to be there that night and it’s just a sort of family tradition that you both had formed over the years. And when Joyce asked him how someone like you had not been swept up already by some guy, Murray had scoffed. He looked bitter — in the way that a protective parent is on behalf of their own kid.

“My niece deserves the world. Not one stupid guy at that high school could give her a mere city, let alone a globe’s worth. Doesn’t mean she didn’t…try. I know she was into one guy for a good while at one point. Some friend she’d made with one of the athletes who shared A.P. classes with her. She helped him study. Something she never did, unless it was with the girls and guys from her class that had weekly study group nights. But this kid she liked…he was smart, and he liked her back. She more than liked him…and he let her. Then, as all the petty high school boys do, he ditched her and all her efforts and hours spent studying and helping him pass his classes with flying colors…for a bimbo. A blonde, hip shaking, Pom-pom waving babydoll who’s all body, no brains.”

Joyce frowned. “Bauman is beautiful. She’s body, beauty and brains.”

“Yeah well,” Hopper mumbled, shaking his head disdainfully. “In high school, if you’ve got a dick, we’re letting it do the talking for us.”

“Point is,” Murray continued. “It hurt her. Big time. But that’s the thing about my niece. Given our Bauman blood, we don’t easily succumb to our sentimental feelings. We just let it broaden our dark comedic chops and cynical worldview. My niece doesn’t have mommy or daddy to run home to and cry. She’s an only child, so no siblings to help care for and bond with. Yeah, she’s got friends. But mainly at school. She’s got herself…and she’s got me.” Murray smiled at that. “Between me and her grandmother, we’ve been the ones that raise her. But to be perfectly honest, my niece pretty much raised herself.”

Hopper’s heart clenched. For both you and your uncle.

“She’s great, Mur,” Hopper murmured. “You’ve been there for her and it shows.”

Murray was quiet at that. He hated compliments. But he didn’t flinch or get snippy. He actually looked humbled, silently appreciating this observation.

Joyce sighed. “Murray…you really have been an incredible uncle to her. I know that I’ve…given you a hard time about things, but…really. You’ve never missed with her.”

Murray was still quiet. He looked everywhere but at his two best friends for several beats. Finally, he gave a curt nod. But it was grateful, and full of love. Mainly for you.

“That’s my kid.”

Murray’s voice cracked a bit. It was the most unusual sound in the barren basement of the Harrington house, bouncing off the walls despite its soft decimal in volume. The tight lipped grin on his face as he finally made eye contact with Joyce and Hopper said it all. He loved the shit outta you, like any good parent loves their kid.

“I didn’t get the white picket fence life. Or a lifelong love story with some gal. I got dealt a crazy family of addicts and narcissists and loons. Had a brother who married a gal from rehab, got her pregnant while they relapsed and went forward with having a kid that didn’t stand a damn chance at surviving it.”

Murray pursed his lips before he continued. “That’s the first goddamn miracle I’ve ever witnessed. That little fetus somehow made it, all of 5 pounds at 9 ounces. Ready to get the fuck out of the womb and live. It made for an early arrival and the risk of being premature, on top of being a crack baby.”

Murray’s eyes shone with a certain kind of fondness. It held both sadness and joy. And his voice was the gentlest it had ever been as he spoke about you.

“She didn’t have one thing wrong with her. Not one thing. Perfect lungs. Perfect heart. Perfect brain activity. Not cursed from the drugs that coursed through her mother’s veins and doomed her life from the start. That kid’s been outsmarting everyone in her life since she was a seed.”

Joyce and Hopper couldn’t help but chuckle at that. Their eyes shone with Murray’s, having been parents themselves and unable to fathom being so reckless when bringing life into this world.

“I didn’t get my own kid,” Murray continued. He looked at Hopper. “I didn’t get a Sarah.” Then to Joyce, “Or a Jonathan, or Will. A kid who’s my own flesh and blood that I’d fight for to the bitter end.”

Murray stood there, resolute in what he was getting at. “But I got her. I got a niece who loves me. After she was born, I got my dad’s mom to take her in while I traveled and worked. She’s the only family member I’ve bothered keeping in touch with. She’s an odd one. But she had a home and money and willingness to take in a stray. She never thought she’d ever get a granddaughter. Don’t even think she really wanted one much till she was handed one to take in. Between the two of us, we raised her. She got thrown at whoever would take her and that was fine with me. Meant she still had a damn shot at a life. That’s what we gave her. The rest? She’s done herself.”

Murray sniffed. Then, smirking at himself —

“I’d like to think my being an unorthodox parental figure of sorts is why she’s built for the war.”

Hopper grinned at that, swallowing back tears of his own. He squeezed Murray’s shoulder. “Yeah, she is. Kid could survive the damn streets of New York on her own.”

Murray laughed at that, and so did Joyce — she finally shook her head and wiped away a couple motherly tears. She took a deep breath, looking up and shifting gears with the topic.

“You know,” she started. “Call me a hopeless romantic… But I’m pretty sure that Steve Harrington has hopelessly fallen for your niece.”

Hopper snorted. “God, I haven’t ever liked the idea of two youngins together the way I like them.”

Murray grinned big. “Yeah that’s a plot twist even I wasn’t expecting.”

The cynical gent’s expression suddenly went from warm to grave. “…don’t ever repeat that.”

The adults all shared a heart laugh at that, making their own comments on how the two mortal enemies turned out to be lovers. Hopper cringed at the word, along with Murray — and Joyce gave your uncle hell for that, given he’s the self-acclaimed mastermind at love.

“My witch doctor hours are limited when it comes to my niece’s love life,” he argued, but it was all with humor and fondness. “I already orchestrated the basics.”

“Which were…?”

“Calling her out.”

Joyce smiled. “What do you think of them?”

Murray’s expression softened. He contemplated that for several sincere moments.

“Surprises me to say it…but I think she’s got someone who loves her fully. Will love her fully. There’s actual years there, backing them up. Years of real life shit. Abnormal shit. Valid tension, deeply rooted hatred that turned out to be love. She saw Harrington for who he was, and sees him for who he is. I mean — Jesus, she was there for all of it. Steve Harrington’s redemption arc was witnessed by her just as much as those kids that he’s taken on as a babysitter. Well, and the Robin girl. But that’s…not the same thing as what he’s got with my niece. No threat there.”

Hopper’s eyes narrowed at that, curious. But Joyce gave Murray an all-knowing grin, knowing what he was getting at.

“I don’t think she’s on the same field,” she winked.

Murray winked back. “Exactly.”

Hopper blinked. “…alright, you guys lost me.”

Joyce waved him off, continuing. “So you like him with her. Maybe even…approve?”

Murray slowly nodded. “Didn’t think there’d be a guy who stood a chance at that. But given the whole…letting us all stay here and saving her life thing…yeah. I’d say I’m very good with those two being together.”

Joyce nudged him with her elbow. “Maybe you should tell him that. Y’know…given you’re at fault for ‘ruining his life,’ too.”

Murray rolled his eyes. “Oh come on, those two never stood a chance with your broody son standing in the way of that.”

“Yeah well…that broody son of mine isn’t making much sense right now,” Joyce shook her head. She sighed, worried. Hopper stroked her back. “I need to talk to him.”

“Lover’s quarrel,” Murray pointed out. “Best let that be up to him and Wheeler.”

“Yeahhh, well,” Hopper sighed. “Emotions are high right now. Maybe a little adult intervention would be good for them.”

Murray patted them both on the shoulders, back to his usual self. “WELP! You two have a large time with that. Meanwhile, I’ve got a date with a second drink calling my name.”

***

You watched Steve sleep on top of your chest, thinking about the words he’d spoken to you before dozing off.

“What about France? Or Switzerland, somewhere with a bunch of acres and nature and a lake nearby or something?”

You’d smiled at Steve’s question. “How would we get the Winnebago over there?”

He’d stared at you for a moment, eyes sparkling as your words landed. A deep grin formed on his face.

“You really liked my little dream on wheels, huh?”

You grinned back. “Yeah. It’s not little. It’s big.”

He shrugged sweetly. “I mean, it’s not a mansion. Or a house. It’s a home on wheels. Honestly, a really small home on wheels, but…I dunno, I just — wanna travel. With my family. Not leave them behind at some big house while I go off and explore god knows where without ‘em.”

You played with his fingers, listening to his every word. He wasn’t used to this. Having someone who was happy to just…listen to him ramble. Was he even one to ramble at all? Or is that something you just brought out in him?

“I just dream of this…this little life of sorts,” he continued, speaking to you and also to himself.

You smiled at his words. “I think I like this little life.”

Steve could sing at your response. Something about that one sentence after he’d just further divulged into what a bright future looked like in his mind made him feel on top of the world. The lovesick joy in his eyes, and in his heart, made you melt.

“I only want that little life with you,” he whispered to you, cupping your neck as he bent down to press his forehead to yours. You loved when he did that. Too much, way too much.

You nuzzled your nose to his. Steve loved when you did that. Too much, way too much.

“And the nuggets,” you whispered back with the cutest grin. Then, daring to say it — “Our nuggets…”

Steve’s heart soared at that. Ours…

The happy little laugh Steve breathed against you was the prettiest sound in the entire fucking universe. He caught your lips in a kiss, sweet and soft and firm.

“Your heart needs to get its shit together,” he breathed before kissing you again.

“I know, I know,” you breathed back with that playful attitude he had come to love, gliding your lips against his. “Such a pain in the ass. I know you wanna rail me, Harrington.”

He deepened the kissing, his fingers sliding up from your neck into your hair. “Yeah, god forbid I actually just want you to be okay. I only wanna fuck you senseless.”

You sighed into his mouth, clutching his hips with one of your hands and a fistful of his shirt with the other. “Yeah, you dirty, filthy asshole…”

He sucked on your tongue, cutting you off. “Be nice, princess.”

The two of you had eventually pulled back, knowing that you needed to wait on Dr. Owen’s to bring you whatever goddamn medicine was supposed to help even out your heart arrhythmia. Steve had moved in your arms to rest his head over your heart, cheek pressed to your chest with your heartbeat in his eardrum. You could feel him shaking. So, you made up a little tune as you felt fatigue taking over you.

“I think I like this little life…

This little life…

I think I like this little life…

This silly little life.”

You could tell it made Steve smile as he held you closer. He murmured something sweet to you about liking the improvised melody, to which you murmured something back about it becoming a hit one day. Steve let your soft spoken singing play in his mind, giving him the sweetest of dreams as your voice trailed off.

And now, you were awake — humming it again. Steve was still fast asleep on your chest, which brought you tremendous relief. You dared to think it might be the only medicine your heart really needed.

There was a soft knock at the door. You craned your neck towards the source of the sound, curious. Steve didn’t move a bit. He was out. It made you grin. You sighed lightly, planting a soft kiss on top of Steve’s perfect hair. Slowly, gently — you found a way of standing up without waking him. Little did you know, the sleep he found in your arms couldn’t be bothered easily. He slept harder with you than he ever had in his life.

You padded over quietly to the door, opening it slowly and only enough to show you. Your uneven heart was flooded with warmth as you stared back at 5 familiar faces.

Dustin, Mike, Lucas, Will and Eleven all stood there. They held random things. Board games, snacks, and pillows with blankets.

“We are inviting ourselves for a sleepover,” El said.

“A very unexciting one,” Lucas clarified.

“Yes, no excitement,” Dustin agreed.

“Just some good ole fashioned card games that don’t hit pique anxiety,” Mike added.

“Annnnd drawing,” Will threw in, lifting his bag. “Art is always therapeutic. Good for the soul. And the heart.”

You felt yourself getting teared up, looking at their faces with pure love and joy. You chuckled wetly, your chest clenching as you so sorely wished that the sixth nugget was awake to add her sarcasm and unwavering love to the mix.

“Plus it really sucks about the mandate coming soon,” Lucas added sadly.

“Yeah,” Mike nodded. “Before we know it, we’ll all be cramped downstairs in the basement or out there in the middle of nowhere.”

You gave them a sad smile.

“A not-exciting sleepover sounds like a grand plan,” you nodded with a wink. Then, cocking an eyebrow, “So I’m hosting then, huh?”

“Yeah, your room’s bigger than ours,” Dustin said.

“True,” you winked. “Orrrr, we could go over to Max’s room and have her join us?”

All of them nodded excitedly. You smiled, turning back to look at Steve sleeping peacefully in the bed.

“Gimme a few minutes to wake up mom and tell him that Max needs some attending to first, so that we can successfully host a sleepover in her room.”

They all quietly cheered, carefully moving to set down their array of stuff inside of your room. They caught sight of Steve sleeping, snickering to themselves like they were all 8 years old again. You shook your head at them with the biggest grin on your face, adoring how Lucas and Dustin were just so tickled with Steve being in your room. Will and El were giggling into their palms, with Mike shushing them but snorting himself. That made everyone fight back even worse laughter, and you ushered them out quickly before closing the door behind you. Man, you loved these kids so much.

You went into the bathroom, freshening up a bit and turning on the shower to let some hot steam hit your aching shoulder for a bit.

he sound of Steve murmuring your name made you hold off on that.

You walked out, beaming at him as he stared in your direction while sitting up. You were back in his arms in seconds, mumbling into his neck.

“Hey, sleepyhead.”

“Jesus, how long was I out?”

“A good chunk of hours.”

Steve groaned, pulling you impossibly closer to him — still mindful of your bad shoulder. You giggled in his grasp. His ears perked up, craning his head up towards the bathroom door as he heard the stream of water running.

“How dare you think of showering without me?” he scoffs incredulously in your arms.

You continued giggling harder as Steve nuzzled his face into your neck, pretending to attack you as he smothered you with groggy affection.

“Just needed to relieve my handicap a bit,” you sighed contentedly.

With that, Steve rose to stand. He was scooping you up into his arms before you could blink, carrying you into the bathroom. He lifted your shirt off, then his. As you stripped your pants, be took the hair tie from your wrist and ran his fingers through your locks, tying it up with ease. With a kiss pressed to your neck, he took your hand and escorted you into the hot stream of water. You watched Steve wistfully as he shed his pants and joined you.

As Steve gingerly massaged the soap into your shoulder blade, you remembered you needed to tell him about the plans that had been made for you both that evening.

“Baby?”

He hummed in response, loving when you called him that.

“The kids have the evening cut out for us tonight,” you started.

Even with your back to him, you knew his eyebrows were raised. “Oh yeah? What, am I making some crazy dinner feast out of canned goods now?”

You sniffed a laugh, turning to kiss his jaw. “No, we’re on for a sleepover in Max’s room.”

“S’that so?” he mulled, a grin in his voice.

“‘Tis so. That, or in here. But I don’t know if we can move her. Plus, I really want her to hear us all talking as much as possible.”

He exhaled, a kiss pressed to your shoulder. “Alright well, I’ll need to go ahead and get her taken care of before we all take over the room.”

“Sounds good,” you sighed contentedly.

You both finished up, and as you got changed into fresh comfy clothes Steve was eyeing the pile of stuff that the kids had unloaded into your bedroom.

“Damn, they just decided to dump the haul here?” he asked.

You snorted. “Yeahhh, they like to make themselves at home here.”

Steve rolled his eyes, but the fondness behind them said it all. He loved it.

Noticing you struggle with your shirt, he quickly moved to help you pull it over your bad shoulder carefully.

“Need to get better at asking for help, angel,” he winked at you, pulling your arm carefully through the sleeve.

You blushed at that, playfully rolling your eyes. “Noted.”

Steve shook his head as he made sure that your shirt was straight, lost in thought for a moment. “Guess we all won’t be able to hang out up here soon,” he murmured. “Outside of the basement.”

Your heart sank, knowing he was referring to the impending doom that loomed around the corner with the whole mandate going into effect next week. “Yeah,” you mused. “Might as well make the most of tonight with them before we have to go back to doomsday mode.”

He nodded sadly, planting a kiss to your hair before grabbing your discarded clothes along with his to start a fresh load of laundry.

“I’m gonna go start a load,” he said. “Check with Hopper on when Dr. Owen’s is getting back here with your meds.”

You sighed. “Yeah, those…”

Steve looked at you solemnly. “Hey.”

You gnawed at your lip, looking up at him.

“You will be okay,” he told you. His tone was firm yet soft. Confident, despite the worried undertone laced around his voice.

You gave him a light smile and nod.

“I’m serious, Bauman,” Steve continued, his brown eyes boring into yours. “We’re getting you on these meds and if they don’t work, then we…do the next thing that does.”

You knew he was stressed. Too stressed. You hated seeing just how fearful he’d been when he lost you before, and how much the fear of losing you again was eating away at him. Of course, Steve being Steve, he now insisted it would be fine. He’d broken down in front of you when it all happened, unable to stop it. Normally, he’d never let that happen. But given the dark reality of things, and just how much everything else had caught up to him, he wasn’t able to be his usual positive, nonchalant self with you over the last 24 hours.

With a mischievous look in your eye, you patted your chest. You gave it a little knocking rhythm, beatboxing under your breath so that he’d laugh. After a moment of Steve glaring at you, the corner of his lips finally twitched up into a grin. He tried to hide it, but you’d already seen it before he could turn away.

“Don’t worry, Harrington,” you told him. “I’m not even close to being done bothering you.”

He turned to look back at you longingly, a smile ghosting behind the way he bit his lip. He nodded.

“Don’t think that ever really had an expiration date, did it?” he asks, teasing you in his husky voice that you loved whenever he was getting coy with you.

You smirked. “Never.”

He took a moment to soak you in with his eyes. “Good,” he said. “I’m keeping it that way.”

You knew what he meant. Don’t you dare fucking leave me again.

And you had every intention of keeping your word. I’m here as long as you’ll have me.

Steve intended to keep you forever.

“Now,” you said, moving towards him. “Let’s go have a big ole sleepover with these six nuggets so that we can stop the end of the world and have another six later on down the road, yeah?”

Steve glowed. He stuttered a bit, unable to breathe. “Y-you really want that? S-six of ‘em…?”

You shook your head, smiling up at him as you stood toe to toe. “Hell yeah, I want that.”

You kissed his jaw. Then, moving to scoop up a bag of the kids snacks — “That’s more buckets of Halloween candy for us down the line.”

Steve smiled and blushed unabashedly, shaking his head with the happiest eye roll you’d ever seen.

“So we’re gonna be that family, huh?” he asked, moving to grab a sour gummy from the bag you’d just opened.

“We will win every costume contest, Harrington,” you said seriously, that signature dry humor of yours coursing through your Bauman blood at full speed. “I’m very competitive. Don't worry, the kids will be too busy having a great time to know that their mom is secretly a little psycho.”

Steve tugged at the gummy worm between his teeth with the most mischievous, flirty glint in his eye. You could smell his perfect skin mixed with the scent of the raspberry candy. “Ahh, so you are mom. Thought I was mom.”

You leaned up on your toes, inching your lips towards his where he still dangled the gummy worm. “In this era? You’re mom. I’m dad. Next one, I’ll be Mommy.”

You bit at the end of the gummy worm, going full lady and the tramp with it like a loose spaghetti noodle. Steve’s lips and teeth stretched into a wide grin, eyes swimming in sex and lust as they looked down at you. You both bit and sucked the gummy worm till your teeth and tongues met. In the lowest, sexiest of husky tones, Steve told you…

“Well in this one? I’m daddy.”

His tongue lapped your mouth, tasting like sugar sweet candy. “Your daddy.”

Before you could completely dissolve into a hot mess of a puddle, familiar voices from the other side of the door sounded off.

“EEEEWWWWWWW!!!!!!”

“STEEEEEEVE!”

“Oh my god oh my god oh my god oh my god —”

The sound of all your kids gagging and losing their shit were making for an orchestra of triggered teens, and you both jumped at the noise. After gasping, Steve threw his head back and huffed incredulously.

“Seriously??” he snapped.

You buried your face in your hands, unable to keep yourself from laughing in pure humiliation — but also in adoration.

“You shitheads are listening in, seriously — Jesus.”

Steve huffed and puffed, but it was clear as day he loved it. You did, too. He moved to open it while you stood back, snickering into your palms with flaming hot flushed cheeks.

“Hello,” he said, voice flat.

“You’re disgusting,” Dustin scoffed.

“And you’re an eavesdropping ass hat.”

“Why do you smell like gummy worms?” Mike asked suspiciously.

“Because you left them in my room, Wheeler,” Steve said wryly.

“Yeah, for tonight!!! For all of us!” Lucas scolded.

“Well Sinclair? Maybe don’t leave your candy unattended in my room.”

“It’s Bauman’s room!” Mike said.

Steve opened his mouth, then shut it. “Right yeah, well. My house, but yeah.”

“Lord, I can’t unhear this,” Will grimaced, but even he was grinning.

“You weren’t supposed to hear it at all,” Steve pointed out defensively.

“If you’re gonna fuck around, you’re gonna find out.”

Eddie’s sing-songy voice was new to the mix as he walked past them all, carrying a bunch of things as he made his way downstairs. “Howdy folks, don’t mind me.”

Steve snapped his fingers, pointing at him as he looked back at his kids. “That. What he said.”

El looked at everyone curiously. “What does being daddy mean if Steve is that for Bauman —”

Everyone cut her off with sounds of disdain.

“Noooope! Nope, nope nope nope.”

“Nothing, absolutely nothing.”

“La la la la la la la la not talking about this la la la la.”

“Alright, enough,” Mama Steve silenced the kiddos. “Move along.”

“No, we’ve been waiting for 30 minutes,” Mike griped.

“It’s okay,” came your voice as you emerged from the room, standing next to Steve. “Why don’t you kids come on inside while Steve gets Max’s room ready?”

They all took you up on that offer, shuffling past you both and making their way inside. Steve shook his head as you grinned, pinching his side.

“Don’t worry, they’ll be grown up and outta the house before you know it.”

You winked at him before making your way into the room with them. Steve watched you fondly, hands on his hips in true Mom Steve Harrington fashion. He had that signature sexy-sassy look on his face that everyone had come to love over the years — you especially. Despite being annoyed, Steve felt his heart fill to the brim as he watched the kids scatter the bags of candy and show you the card game selections. You were hugging El closely while Dustin pointed out that he had plenty more candy hidden in his backpack. Will was telling you about his newest art collection ideas, and you excitedly listened to him while Mike and Lucas bickered about which games were better for everyone.

“Steve, you’re joining us, right?” Dustin asked.

Steve scrunched his face in confusion, doubling back with his shoulders. “Yeah, wasn’t that already happening?”

Dustin shrugged. “Just making sure you’re not gonna be lame.”

Steve shook his head. You looked over at him as you smiled.

“F’course he’s joining,” you winked. “It’s not a party without mom.”

Steve narrowed his eyes at you playfully, making your shoulders shake with a chuckle.

He felt more at home in his own house than he ever had in 19 years.

__________________________

Jonathan watched Steve make his way into Max’s room, knee bouncing.

He was seated in the living room, next to Joyce. She’d cornered him earlier, after watching Nancy move to sit on the porch alone and stare at nothing as she sat on the steps. Robin had moved to join her eventually, giving her company and offering to lend an ear.

That sprang Joyce into action, and she found Jonathan standing outside of Argyle’s room with Will. She’d found them both talking, happy to see her boys were in deep conversation and bonding. She could tell they’d been doing that for a little while now, and when they both looked up at her the three Byers all shared warm, solemn smiles. The boys looked a bit sheepish. Mostly the oldest.

Jonathan knew his mom wasn’t gonna let him off the hook. And if he was being honest, a good honest talk with his mother about something not having to do with the upside down was something he’d needed for a long time.

So they talked. Joyce listened while Jonathan spoke, and he listened while she responded. It was the perfect blend of expressed empathy, disappointment and motherly advice shared on her end. He admitted to the fight with Steve in the alleyway, back when Will was missing. And he admitted to making a move on Nancy while she was still in a relationship with Steve. She brought up Murray telling her about him getting drunk at the Henderson’s house, 2 years back…and he shamefully ducked his head as he wrung his hands. But Joyce just rubbed his back, reminding him she wasn’t here to berate him and only to talk through things the way they always have: as mother and son.

“You know, Jonathan…” Joyce spoke softly, her heart heavy. “I don’t think I ever really thanked you for everything that you did in helping me find Will.”

Jonathan did a double take, brow furrowed. “What’re you talking about, of course you did —”

“No,” Joyce shook her head. “No, we talked about it, sure. I verbally thanked you.”

“Many times, mom,” Jonathan assured her.

“Just listen,” she cut him off gently, clutching his hand. “I lost a son…but you’d lost a brother. We both lost him. Twice. God, twice… and each time was a brand new hell. We didn’t even have time to process the first round.”

Jonathan chuckled darkly. “Would we ever have processed that? I mean really…”

Joyce grinned at that. “Psh, yeah. Doubt it.” Looking back at him with a softened expression, she continued. “Point is…in the midst of all that stress, and searching, and worrying…you were still going through so much. Not just with Will missing…but everything else, too.”

Jonathan listened to his mother as she looked deeply into his eyes, clutching both his hands. She went on to tell her eldest son every validating thing a mother could tell her child. She recounted every single thing that Jonathan had been dealing with outside of Will going missing, and it hurt her to relive it all just as much as it hurt Jonathan to hear it all over again. When Joyce got to the part where she’d had to make them all move, Jonathan’s eyes watered up.

“You and Nancy were just beginning to dive into things deeply,” she was saying. “Really, you’d both gone through so much together and finally you both got to just…start being a couple, and then it all went wrong again, so that — that forced you both back into the upside down bullshit…”

“Mom,” Jonathan said, a bit shocked.

“I’m serious,” Joyce said back, eyes fierce and full of love. “Jonathan, you’ve had to be an adult since you were just a kid. Since you were Will’s age. And then you finally get into a relationship with a beautiful girl, and immediately you’re thrown into war. Not even able to enjoy your teens going into adulthood. Even Nancy, she…she’s been through so much with you. And now…”

Joyce’s voice trailed off. She sighed, exasperated with herself. She re-centered, turning back to her son.

“I love you,” she told him, eyes full of love. “So much, you just don’t know. You are just…a good person. And the fact you feel overcome with guilt as though you’re not —“

“I haven’t been a good person, mom,” Jonathan murmured, voice wobbly.

“Jonathan,” Joyce whispered, squeezing his hands. “Just because you’ve not acted right in certain ways…that does not make you a bad person. Do you understand that? Because if not — then whoever’s telling you that…whether it’s someone you love, or a stranger, or yourself…stop listening. Seek within. Listen to your heart, because it’s never going to steer you wrong. And no, that’s not just some dumb cliche saying, it’s true. Your mind will confuse you, and your soul will get shaken. But your heart? It will always lead you back.”

Jonathan’s lip trembled, and Joyce held him tight as he shook him her arms. He clung to his mother, overwhelmed.

“I’m afraid I’ll never say enough, mom,” he wept into her shoulder. “To Steve, or to Nancy… I’m actually more sure about what I need to say to him instead of her.”

Joyce chuckled early, squeezing him tighter. “Aw, baby… Don’t overthink. Say whatever is going to give your heart peace. You’ll regret anything you never said far more than anything that you did.”

***

“Trust me kid, I’m in the doghouse now for the hell I raised on the phone with him.”

Hopper stood in front of Steve, along with Murray. They’d just spoken with Dr. Owens on the phone, who’d told Murray that he wouldn’t be able to bring them the medication until tomorrow morning. Murray had managed to remain calmer than Hopper, to both their surprise. Now, they stood in the kitchen with Steve – filling him in.

Steve took a deep breath through his nose, exhaling just as deeply out his mouth like a puff of air he’d been holding while running a hand through his hair. Murray looked at him with a somber, empathic expression.

“Doesn’t mean I’m not just as furious about it,” Murray pointed out. “But given the whole…having a target on his back thing…I’m trying to have some sort of grace about it, mostly for her sake. And yours.”

That made Steve look over at him gratefully. He couldn’t imagine the stress your uncle was experiencing, knowing your heart — literally — was on the line.

“Says he’ll be here with it as early as he can be,” Murray added. “Just keep doing what you’re already doing. Which is the most.” His lips turned upwards at one of the corners. “The most, and then some.”

Steve allowed himself to give your uncle a sad smile back, appreciating being seen by him. He’s all that you had as far as family goes. With a nod, Steve let that news settle into his brain. He reached out to shake Murray’s hand, who shook it back firmly and dared to pat his shoulder. Physical affection was so not his thing. But he’d make an effort for the guy his niece was in love with, and who not only saved her life — but was still doing everything he could to keep it intact.

“Kids sleepover, huh?”

Hopper changed the subject, grinning at Harrington — who chuckled lightly.

“You guys know about this?”

Hopper shrugged. “We might’ve told them to allow themselves some fun for one night, before we all go into lockdown…” His expression turned grim, a thought pushing its way to the forefront of his brain. “And whatever plan needs to go into action.”

Steve knew what he meant. Getting back out there. He swallowed hard, giving him a quick nod. No one was ready for this. But were they ever really “ready” for any of this?

Murray and Hopper told Steve to not give any thought whatsoever to anything relating to doomsday until the next morning. They insisted that they just take the focus on laughing and soaking up the night with you and the kids. Steve was surprised at how certain they both were about it, but despite it being out of character for them in an endearing way…it scared him. It meant that they knew just how much everyone here was at risk. It made a sharp chill run up Steve’s spine.

Eventually, Steve had made his way up to Max’s room. He was sorting through it, making room for you all to camp out there. El had already turned her little cot bed into a floor couch of sorts, which made Steve grin.

He talked to Max out loud as he checked her vitals. Lucas already had, along with Joyce and Hopper. Still, he always wanted to make sure.

“Not sure if this is gonna be one of those nights where I’ve gotta make Dustin cut the attitude during games,” Steve was telling her with a smirk as he straightened her pillows. “Honestly, it’s probably an excuse for Mike and El to be able to cuddle at night. So I’ll likely be chaperoning the entire night. Good thing I got mad good sleep with Bauman today.”

Steve moved to close the curtains, watching the sun begin to set behind the trees in the distance. It looked dull, given all the debris and toxic air.

“You know what’s crazy?” he asked her. “Ever since I started sleeping with her — like actually sleeping, head outta the gutter Max — it’s…I haven’t had a single nightmare. I always have those.”

He moved to discard some of the kids’ loose candy wrapped and one of Dustin’s empty pudding containers, glancing over at her sleeping form.

“Seriously, it’s weird. It’s like she just…makes them all disappear.” Steve scoffed a laugh at that. “Who’d have thought… She’s been a nightmare to me, and now I can’t…can’t even stand to think back on the times I never saw her like I do now.”

Steve looked around the room, seeing it was good for the night. It would be a tight squeeze — but having shuffled Max’s bed over enough so that they all had room to play games and draw on the floor with snacks, it would do. He sighed, taking a second to sit on the edge of the bed near her feet.

“Maybe this is a good thing,” he murmured. “Tonight. Hearing all our voices at once. Arguing and bickering and laughing the way you all do together.”

Steve poked her knee. “Think that’ll kick start you again, red? Wake you back up so that you can give us all shit?”

Her silence isn’t as long as he expects it to be whenever he hears a knock. Steve looks over to the open doorway, finding Jonathan standing there. He looks…wary. Rough, and timid. Standing awkwardly with his hands buried deeply in his pockets, he shoots Steve a very quick, uncomfortable right-lipped grin.

“Hey.”

Steve blinks. “Hey.”

Jonathan rocks on his feet for a moment. Finally, he clears his throat. “Can I come in?”

Steve blinks again, but eventually nods. “Yeah. Yeah, sure, yeah.”

Jonathan moves to lean against the wall, next to the doorway. Steve would laugh at the fact that this is Byers’ way of “coming in,” if it weren’t for the fact that he was so clearly nervous about something. Steve had a few guesses as to why he was here. He knew this had been coming, and he wishes he’d been the one to initiate it. Because they really needed to talk.

They’d needed to talk for 3 years.

“Look, Byers,” Steve started after waiting for what felt like a century for Jonathan to say something. “I owe you an apology…”

“No,” Jonathan cut him off.

It made Steve look at him in surprise. But Jonathan continued before he could say anything else.

“No, it’s me who owes you an apology.”

Steve stared. “…what?”

Jonathan sighed, scratching his neck and praying the words could find him as he finally dove into what he needed to let off his chest.

“Look I’m not good at this,” Jonathan said. “Talking, I mean. You know I’m weird.”

He gnawed at his lip, pensive and twitchy. He looked down at his feet a lot, feeling tense under Harrington’s gaze. But he sucked in a deep breath, going for it.

“Back in 1982, you had every right to break my camera.”

Steve froze. “No, I didn’t.”

“Yeah. Yeah you did. I shouldn’t have been spying on you guys like that. ‘Cause even though I was looking for my brother, it…it turned into me just…following the sound of you all partying and watching from afar. So I mean, technically…” Jonathan chuckled under his breath darkly. “Technically, I was being a stalker.”

He looked up at Steve finally, finding him looking at him in pure shock.

“You were dating Nancy,” Jonathan continued. “And I took…really inappropriate pictures of her. In a moment when you both were having…or well, thought you were having a private moment together. That wasn’t alright. And if…if someone had done that to me and my girlfriend, I would’ve…probably done the same thing. And honestly, you getting mad at me in the alleyway that morning —”

“Dude, no,” Steve shook his head. “Don’t take the blame for that. That was all me. It was shitty, what I did to Nancy. And what I said to you.”

“Yeah it was, but you found me in your girlfriend’s room, Steve,” Jonathan told him. “I was in there with her, in her bed, sleeping next to her when she told you that she was with her family. It looked…fucked up.”

Steve was just staring again. How in the hell was this happening right now? And why had he himself never made it happen sooner?

“So you chewed me out,” Jonathan shrugged. “And no, you shouldn’t have publicly humiliated Nancy like that at all…”

“I kick myself for it every day,” Steve murmured. “Trust me…”

“I know,” Jonathan told him, voice softer. “I know that now. I’ve…known you have for a long time. Nancy told me. I know you apologized over and over.” He took a moment, going back. “But what you said to me was just…your way of saying fuck you. You felt used, tricked and stupid. After you’d protected Nancy from a guy who’d proven himself to be a creepy stalker, and it looked like she slept with him. So you lashed out. Like any teen guy would.”

“I called you a queer,” Steve says incredulously, cringing at the memory. “I even went as far as saying you were the reason for Will going missing, along with your mom. It was low, Jonathan. What I said and did was just — flat out low. No excuses. None. I’m the one in the wrong.”

“Steve, we both were.”

Jonathan’s voice finally finds confidence. It makes Steve look at him in another light, as if he’s truly seeing Byers for the strong-willed young man that he is. It occurs to him now that maybe Jonathan has been going through some soul searching of his own, just as he had over the last few years. Clearly, he still was. Both of them were.

“We were barely 17 years old, and stupid,” Jonathan kept going. “We — we didn’t know how the hell to deal with anything. Much less a missing kid, or a guy related to that kid who’d taken creepy photos. We both were idiots.”

Steve let that land. And it actually made him laugh, sheepishly.

“Yeah,” he nodded slowly, scratching his neck. “Yeah, I guess we were.”

Jonathan laughed too. It was still tense, a bit awkward. But it was becoming lighter. For both of them.

“Shit, Byers,” Steve shook his head. “Have we both been feeling awful about this for years and just… not saying something about it until now?”

Jonathan sighed. “Sounds like it.”

They were both quiet for a moment, letting this newfound revelation settle into existence.

“Thanks for the new camera, by the way,” Jonathan added. “I know that was you.”

Steve looked back up at him, finding kindness and sincere gratitude in Jonathan’s eyes. It made him feel shy. Worse, yet better at the same time.

“Least I could do,” Steve shrugged.

Jonathan sniffed a laugh, shaking his head. “Yeah, well… You didn’t take the credit for it. You let Nancy do that.”

Jonathan pursed his lips, brow pinching as he shifted against the wall and stared down at his feet again. Steve waited as he watched him curiously.

“You extended way more kindness to me than I did you,” Jonathan said softly. So softly, it made Steve wonder if it was actually what he said.

“I shouldn’t have pined after Nancy,” Jonathan said. “I should’ve asked her out. Like actually asked her out, while she was single again. Before you two got back together.”

Steve felt his stomach jump. This was…a lot. So much was being covered right now in this conversation.

“But instead, I just sulked and pretended I still wasn’t in her thoughts at all. Even though I knew that…that she liked me. But I also knew that she liked you. So I just… I convinced myself it wasn’t ever gonna happen. Because that was safer. And hating you made it easier to do that.”

Jonathan looked ashamed of everything that he was saying now, but certain about it. Steve just listened, not daring to interrupt him.

“I might not have cheated with Nancy the first time you both dated…but I did the second time. And that’s not… that’s not right.” Jonathan sighed, taking a breath. “But I was a coward. Maybe not when it came to the upside down and finding Will, but up here? In regular real life? I am. I’m a coward. I don’t say whatever it is that I’m actually feeling or thinking, or wanna say. I just…wait for circumstances to make it happen for me. You don’t do that. You just…go for it.”

Steve scoffed. “Trust me, I’m…I’ve been a coward for years. In many ways, many times, for many reasons.”

“Yeah, well…you still didn’t steal someone else’s girlfriend instead of actually making a move. And I’m really…really sorry about that, Steve. I’m sorry I swooped in like that, and then…drunkenly bragged about it to Bauman Squared while you were in earshot. It made you take it out on her, when she didn’t deserve that. I did. All she did was call me out on it with Murray. They both had no idea it would turn into this.”

That made Steve squirm. He thought about how he’d been pining after Nancy still, even when she was with Jonathan. He took a deep breath, knowing he needed to let that off his chest too.

“Look,” Steve started warily. “Honestly, I really appreciate everything you’re saying. And really — apology accepted. Completely.”

Jonathan could tell that Steve meant it, and he visibly relaxed some once he let that settle into his bones. He released a breath of air that he hadn’t even realized he had been holding.

Meanwhile, Steve was holding his own.

“And you’re right,” Steve continued. “What I did to Bauman? Taking it out on her like that was…well it was projection. Cowardly projection. Instead of taking it out on you and Nancy, I took it out on someone else. Because that was easier. Because it meant that I still got to be the unsung hero in Nancy’s life, and a bigger person than you.”

Jonathan stared at him now, surprised to hear this. He wasn’t expecting his confessed guilt to lead to Steve admitting guilt of his own.

“I’ll probably be telling Bauman I’m sorry for as long as I live,” Steve continued, voice solemn. Honestly I feel…shitty beyond belief, knowing that I could’ve been kinder to her all this time…maybe even spared myself way more heartbreak...if I’d just gotten mad at you guys instead of her. Because then, I might’ve gotten close with her and discovered feelings for her before this all went down.”

“Maybe,” Jonathan pondered, nodding. “Then again… I don’t think you’d have fallen for her nearly as hard if it hadn’t been for you giving her shit for it.”

They both awkwardly chuckle at that. But it makes them both sad to think about it. How you’d taken the brunt of it all.

“Fuck, she didn’t deserve that,” Jonathan huffs. “And I’m — I’m the one who caused it.”

“No,” Steve shook his head, eyes sad and dark as they swam in regret. “No, that was all me. I was an asshole. And truthfully, I was still so hung up on Nance that I didn’t know how to even remotely look at another girl. Let alone one I convinced myself was responsible for taking that away from me, knowing damn well that it wasn’t. Nance wanted you, and you wanted her. Plain and simple.”

Jonathan looked ashamed all over again, but Steve held up a hand.

“Trust me,” Steve assured him. “She wasn’t mine to keep. I get that now.”

Jonathan slowly smiled at that. “You love her, don’t you?”

Steve knew who he meant. You.

“Yeah,” Steve whispered. “Yeah, I…don’t even know what to do with it.”

Steve stared into thin air, lost in thought. Jonathan didn’t push him, just watching him and waiting for him to go on.

“I just…look back on it all and wonder how. How did I not see her in high school, or…see during the summer of ‘84 that she was clearly perfect?”

“It takes time,” Jonathan said softly. “Shit doesn’t always hit you right away. I know that better than you’d think.”

Steve pursed his lips. “Yeah. Yeah no, you’re not wrong. I just… I dunno. I guess I’m just…”

He took a deep breath, knowing he needed to get this over with.

“I was still hung up on Nance while you were in California,” he continued, making eye contact with Jonathan again. “So much so that…I told her I was. And I’d…hoped to get her back. I wanted to steal her back from you.”

Jonathan sighed, giving him a small smile.

“I know,” he said. “She told me.”

Steve stared. Oh.

“Believe it or not,” Jonathan continued. “I’m not…mad about that at all.”

Steve blinked. “…why…?”

Jonathan chuckled. “Steve, I actually stole your girlfriend. I had it coming.”

After several more blinks, Steve coughed out a laugh. Was he serious? As Jonathan laughed with him, he realized that he truly meant it. He wasn’t mad.

“Sorry man, but I won that round,” Jonathan chuckled.

“Fair,” Steve chuckled back. “Good game, man.”

Jonathan nodded awkwardly, shuffling his feet. “Yeahhh, good game…”

They took a few moments of silence, letting the tension wear off some more. It was…nice. This weird sort of talk was nice.

“I guess what I’m trying to say is,” Steve continued. “I’m sorry, too. For going after Nance again, and not just… facing you both sooner.”

“S'alright,” Jonathan told him. “I’ve honestly been a really shitty boyfriend these last several months.”

Steve’s brow furrowed in confusion.

“Long story,” Jonathan waved a hand. “That’s my own wrong that I gotta make right with Nancy.”

Steve contemplated that. Had whatever was going south between Jonathan and Nancy, unbeknownst to him, been the reason she’d seemed to be interested in him again? Or was that just the tipping point for her, and her buried lingering feelings for Steve?

Regardless, it didn’t matter now. Steve was so in love with you, he couldn’t see straight. But it did make him wonder.

“And honestly, I don’t blame you,” Jonathan said, smiling. “Nancy, she’s…perfect.”

Steve smiled at him. “She’s pretty wonderful,” Steve agreed. “I’ll always adore her. But…”

“…but you found your person,” Jonathan finished for him. “Your ‘perfect’ person.”

Steve grinned. “Yeah. She makes everything make sense for me, and I just…god, I love her.”

Jonathan nodded, still smiling. “I know how you feel.”

Steve fiddled his thumbs in his lap, staring down at them and feeling his stomach knot up. There was another thing he needed to own up to…

“Jonathan, what I said to you…” Steve murmured, eyes still downcast. “Yesterday, back at the fence…when Bauman…” Steve winced, skipping that part. “...it wasn’t at all —”

“I deserved it.”

“Okay, you’ve got to stop doing that, will you let me feel bad for at least one thing I’m saying?”

“No, and especially not this one.”

Steve sighed, perplexed. “…and why is that?”

“Because I deserved it.”

Jonathan watched as Steve just gaped at him, biting back amusement. He let the sincerity of the serious topic ground him again.

“You all searched and fought relentlessly for me and my mom when this all started,” Jonathan went on to say.

“...I so did not do anything from the start.”

“Maybe you don’t think you did? But you did.”

“…I so did not.”

“You got there. And besides…like we both said earlier…lots of misdirected projection. And lots of long overdue confrontation. On both our parts.”

Steve couldn’t argue that. Byers was right, at least in this case.

“You were still mad at me,” Jonathan continued, “and I was just mad at myself but convinced that everything and everyone else — you included — were the problem. Not me.”

Jonathan gnawed at his lip for several moments, clearing his throat. “You basically unleashed years of deeply buried resentment onto me in one foul swoop. I gotta say, your words…shit hit me hard.”

Steve frowned, ducking his head a bit. “I honestly don’t even remember some of it. I just…saw red.”

Jonathan snorted. “Blind rage will do that. Shit, I don’t even remember swinging on you back in ‘82. Apparently, I did a pretty nasty job.”

“I was positive you’d done permanent damage to my nose.”

“Yeah, and then you took an even worse beating from that Hargrove kid and the Russians,” Jonathan said, nose scrunched with a laugh. Steve laughed, too. They had to laugh about it all at this point.

“Christ, man,” Steve groaned. “It’s a wonder my face isn’t the prime subject for plastic surgery…”

Jonathan shrugged. “And you wonder why we all hate you so much. You’ve gotten your ass beat so many times, and still look good.”

Steve smirked. “Thanks.”

Jonathan winked. “I’m sure Bauman Squared digs it. All the battle wounds.”

That actually made Steve blush. “Psh. Compared to the fall she took? My experiences look like a walk in the park.”

“So Dr. Owens is bringing her meds tomorrow, yeah?” Jonathan asked, brow pinched with worry.

Steve sighed, raking a hand through his hair before crouching over his knees, elbows pressing into them. “Yeah. Yeah, that can’t come soon enough.”

Jonathan looked at Steve with a somber expression. He hated that he was going through this. Seriously, when was Harrington going to catch a damn break?

“She’ll be alright, man,” Jonathan told him kindly. “She’s got you. Got all of us.”

Steve nodded. “Yeah, she’s gonna have to be. I’ll lose my goddamn mind if she — yeah, she has to be.”

“She will,” Jonathan nodded, speaking firmly. Assuringly. “She’s not going anywhere.”

Steve bit his lip, staring at his hands.

Jonathan shuffled his feet, feeling shy again before asking… “So hey…are we cool? Like actually really, finally cool?”

Steve looked up at that, eyes shining with relief and kindness. He stood up, extending a hand out for a firm handshake. “Yeah man. We’re cool. For good.”

Jonathan felt relief wash over him entirely as he shook Steve’s hand, pulling him in for a tight hug. And Steve felt like he had just made so much peace with his old self in a multitude of ways, over one honest conversation with Byers. While he wished it had happened sooner, he realized…maybe if it had, it wouldn’t have led to this. This true sense of peace that came with newfound mature understanding that both of them had grown into individually.

Byers and Harrington could be friends now. They both had peace to find with Nancy Wheeler, but if they were being brutally honest with themselves — that wasn’t going to be possible until the two of them had hashed it out, once and for all. And now that they had, Steve could let Nancy know that he had finally moved on…once and for all...and so could she.

And Jonathan could go make things right with her — whether that led to them deciding to take time apart, or getting his girl back.

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