#IM TALKING LIKE NINE CHARACTERS

[bearw-me]

new years kiss hard canons for hazbin? no big deal or anything- (would make my entire year if you did)

sure, no big deal. (this request made my whole year)

𝐍𝐞𝐰 𝐘𝐞𝐚𝐫𝐬 𝐊𝐢𝐬𝐬𝐞𝐬 — 𝐇𝐚𝐳𝐛𝐢𝐧 𝐇𝐨𝐭𝐞𝐥

𐐒 includes : gender neutral!reader, alastor, charlie morningstar, vaggie, angel dust, sir pentious, husk, cherri bomb 𐐒 cw : fluff, mentions of drinking, kisses 𐐒 summary : to celebrate the new year Charlie + Alastor have thrown together a nice little party for the hotels inhabitants! 𐐒 note : first time hcs for a ton of characters! hope you guys enjoy!

To celebrate the new year, Charlie had come up with a wonderful idea that she had heard about through the angels. A wonderous party filled with spirits and surrounded by the people she treasured most to enjoy some fireworks, hopefully to start off a new year with high hopes!

With Alastor + Vaggie's help, they created a new balcony on the hotel just for the occasion. . . and to watch the fireworks burst and bubble brightly over hell.

➡ Alastor

the kiss would be unexpected on your part completely

after all, the overlord Alastor himself always has to have the upper-hand

what good would a surprise be if you knew he was going to kiss you the moment those fireworks burst and whistled into the sky?

He probably backs you up into a corner out of sight, or if your sitting by the bar he'll have you at the edge of the seat

He smiles wide, reveling in the fact that your squirming

"What's wrong my dear? Feeling uncomfortable?"

Alastor kisses you passionately, but also, as if he's never kissed someone in his life.

You can't even hear the fireworks behind him, just the static in your head and the press of his body against yours

he'd probably bite you too if he found himself enjoying your lips against his

His hand slithering up your back to hold you close, unable to wriggle away or fall back from him.

Immediately after he disappears

after all, he likes to keep you on your toes

➡ Charlie Morningstar

she's very. . . strange all night leading up to midnight

you just accredit it to stress; she's managed this whole thing by herself and wants it to be perfect

Charlie is checking up on you all night, talking fast as a whip and fiddling with her hands as if she's said everything but what she wants to

A half hour before the fireworks happen, you don't actually see her at all

You find the perfect spot on the balcony

Then, like 5 minutes before you're waiting for the fireworks to go off she just- appears- right next to you. Shoulder to shoulder

"Hey! Uh- could we- Could I ask you something?"

"So, So when the angels told me about 'New Years' and what they do to celebrate I kind of stumbled into a new tradition! And I-well I wasjustkindofwondering"

She was rambling again, petting her hair and not looking at you, trying to smile through it.

"Charlie?" You stop her, "Ask me."

And she doesn't really, just kind of takes your hand in hers and stares down at your lips with a mix of anxiety and content.

That's when realization hits you.

Charlie leans in, and its the softest feeling you've ever experienced.

Her kisses feel like the sun against yours, and you can feel her smile into it, already giddy that she's done it!

➡ Vaggie

vaggie is running around with charlie the whole night making sure things go off without a hitch

and in a hotel full of sinners. . . it takes a while

i think vaggie wouldn't kiss someone just for the hell of it

if she wants to kiss you, you mean a whole lot

so new years is a great deadline to give herself to suck up her courage and just do it

she doesn't usually like PDA (its not that she doesn't like it, its just how she is) but if she kissed you on the balcony, it wouldn't matter because everything else would just fall away

she'd have you in her arms, cupping your face and kissing you almost hesitantly, pecking you a few times before she's finally comfortable enough to finally fall into it

➡ Angel Dust

angel always has company with him so it'd be a pretty public thing if you wanted to kiss him (ofc he doesn't mind; just warning you)

would love your company on new years eve, and would keep you close during the cool night

he's drinking with husk for a bit before midnight starts coming around

and by then, he's already very smug, and very flirty with you

hints that you may be his choice of new years kiss (like he tells you and winks)

its a casual thing (i mean, he told you he'd do it when the clock struck midnight)

but when it happens. . . its like he can feel the fireworks in his chest

bonus if you kiss him back right after

its something he wasn't expecting entirely, but it makes him smile like a crushing teenager

tries to brush it off of course

➡ Sir Pentious

he's extremely nervous to ask you

and is all over the place with his ideas and talking to you

he wants to ask for a kiss and builds up the courage all night, coming up to you confidently and burning out the moment he reaches you

he just can't with you looking at him innocently like that

he goes off into a corner to give himself a pep-talk

"You're Sir Pentious! You can do this! You've built gadgets that have toppled crime rings!. . ."

but when it comes to you, all his plans to kiss you just sort of crumble away in his hands

every plan he's had

but he's determined to find one that works out!

You probably hear of his "rant" through the grape-vine and take a stroll over to where he is

you most definitely have to make a first step, no matter how small, just to give him some glimmer of hope to hold onto

He see's you staring at his chest, glancing away when he notices you and he's overwhelmed with his feelings

grabbing you just a few seconds before midnight and kissing you as if its the last time he'll ever do it

➡ Husk

husk is drinking all night

he likes the party over all, just doesn't want to be a part of it and left to his own devices by the bar

wasn't expecting to spend new years eve with you, but he's. . . actually kind of glad you'd sit with him to watch the fireworks

wouldn't tell you that

honestly, midnight goes by for a few seconds, and seeing others kiss he just kind of catches himself scanning the crowd and then glancing over at you

it surprises you both

but its not something he'd fight either

tries to shrug it off and smile when he leans in towards you

his kiss tickles your face, and his lips taste like black licorice from his whiskey

but its not the drinks that have his head buzzing

i really feel like he'd kiss you until there wasn't another breath left in his lungs; silently hoping it wouldn't be the last time he does it

➡ Cherri Bomb

Cherri asking you straight up if you want to make-out with her

she's very picky when it comes to people she likes (or intends to see later in the night) so feel flattered that she's been staring at you

likes to tease you if you get flustered too

"Aw come on! I've seen the way you've been staring at me ya creep!"

"Come on, I won't bite"

Cherri is DEFINITELY the one to kiss you right as the clock strikes midnight

counting down as loudly as she can until its time

she's probably staring at you all night, glancing at your lips and biting hers playfully

a deadly flirt for sure

and she's not afraid to ask you or surprise you either

or just pull you by the chin and smash her lips into yours

her kisses are rough, but in a good way, like its something she's wanted to a while

[moeblob]

So… do you ship Gavin with anyone *cough* Nines *cough* or do you prefer platonic content of Gavin?

I'm gonna be so real with you. My entire exposure before playing DBH was Reed900 fics and the Decharts streaming on twitch (where i heard "28 stab wounds!").

So I'd read lots of fics and that's why I love Chris so much honestly. He's such a good guy! I love straight wingman Chris to his volatile friend who has a crush on an android but was in denial. But yeah my main experience was people putting a guy with minimal (angry) screen time and a guy with no spoken lines in romantic settings.

I love platonic relations though... so that's been the more prominent feature in my art as I adjust and learn how to draw the cast!

I also have a lot of ideas for Gavin and other DPD crew/Nines interacting. I just haven't had energy sadly! They're written down for later!

And fun fact: I've been told it's basically my brand to have mutual pining as a defining relationship trait. Guess what I like about Reed900. It's the fact a lot of fics are catering to me and mutual pining. They've catered to me since before I played the game.

[xxplastic-cubexx]

Honestly your tags are so fun to read every time, i'm almost more excited for them than the actual post (but not entirely because your art is SO GOOD!!!! i adore it). If you don't mind me asking, what are you studying?

i am studying psychology because i refuse to see a therapist so ill figure out whats wrong with me myself !!!!!!!

[tealime9]

WHAT THE FUCK YOU MEAN PEOPLE GO OFF TO HATE HARU FOR SLEEPING AROUND IN THE FIRST SEASON

'AWWW POOR LEGOSHI HAS A SLUT AS LOVE INTEREST'- WHO THE FUCK IS SAYIN G THAT DID NO ONE LITERALLY READ ABT HARU SITUATION IM GOING TO KILL AND MAIM-

Haru is sOOO queen, bro honestly she puts up with a lot of legoshi bs too I mean he just disappear never tell her whats going on. aimless hate for her bcs of poor legoshi or other ships-

there aint no way, Haru is cool af bro. BROOOO

it might be because im a multishipper that i dont really get the whole 'oh she gets in the way of another ship' But man in this account its a stan Haru shes SO for real both manga and anime.

[no0t2]

sometimes being aspec in a predominantly (at least from my observation) horny fandom is very embarrassing.

[journal-three]

I feel so stupid saying this but Staged is genuinely an AU Crowley and Aziraphale.

I've seen comments saying it and went "that's stupid stop projecting" but I've watched 2 seasons and it. actually is.

[punkcherries]

sonic prime so cool ............

[aroace-number-eight]

No hate for mlm but we need to have like a femslash month, there's too much men talk here, what about the female characters who are poor little meow meows, little scrunglies, complete bastards

Shut up about femme fatale or soft and sweet this and that, make fucked up headcanon about your girls we need more of that

I'll start: Marina once poisoned food for one of the girls at the orphanage and never got caught

Also Maggie/Six supremacy in a no one dies AU

[todayisafridaynight]

I feel like it would be fun to see Leo's actor in Mole Song Final play Ryuji... that's the only person that comes to mind 😭😭

BUT YEAH 4 was the first mainline entry with (proper) faceclaims! I would kill to see faceclaims get to play their characters. Because they actually aren't mocapped by them, just voiced and scanned in--the acting is all done by RGGS' mocap actors. If you're mentally ill enough you'll start to notice acting decisions that differ from what the actual actor would've gone for; Arakawa doesn't cry the way Nakai does, for example. NGL the animations get kind of uncanny at times if you're too mentally ill so I would not recommend paying quite that much attention lol

I was trying not to think about it though because even if we By Some Miracle got to "season 7" (8 if they do 0) it's entirely possible Nakai and/or Tsutsumi won't be acting anymore by then 😭😭😭😭😭Tsutsumi wants to start directing by the time he's 60... That's chiefly why I kinda wanted it to be an adaptation of 7 before we knew any of the specifics... But Oh Well, it is what it is

ANYWAYS. Very excited for stream tomorrow and best of luck getting stuff done for today :D

YEAH LIKE UNDOUBTEDLY he gave such big ryuji vibes and had an epic presence..... if i allowed myself to dream just this once he would be a real good contender for ryuji......

ohhh yeah nonono ive definitely noticed DONT WORRY. whenever i draw or write fics, i always try to imagine the actual character first to see if the expression or dialogue fits them and if it's believable. having dove more into tsutsumi and nakai movies and shows, the difference is REALLY apparent to me (in that vein tho, it's easy for me to see them as individual characters as opposed to actors playing characters, so it's a little bit of a win for me somehow lmao)

YEAH NOOO THATS DEF A VERY LIKELY POSSIBILITY SHOULD THE SERIES SOMEHOW GET TO THAT POINT IN THE GAMES. again i doubt we'll actually get that far, but in the rare event that we do i hope nakai and tsutsumi do whatever makes them happy (and id def be into seein a movie directed by tsutsumi) (❁´◡`❁)

I REMEMEBR THATLKVJELK WHICH ONE OF YOU FIENDS SENT ME THAT FANCAST SITE IN THE FIRST PLACE ☠️☠️☠️☠️

[unnonexistence]

books will go on and on about how short a character is and then it turns out he's five foot nine. in a historical setting.

[yutarot]

in perfect sync. j.jh smau

♫⋆♪ ₊˚. humour, friends to enemies to lovers, secret relationship, forced proximity, college au, dancer au, hiphopdancer!jaehyun, fboy!jaehyun, balletdancer!yn

synopsis. your dance college wasn’t the easiest to get in to, let alone was it easy to stay. so what happens when your college decides they need to cut two of the dance teams from competing ever again, the ballet team and the hiphop team. will both teams get along in order to solve their connected issue, or will they fight to get their own team back to competing again? only you and hiphop dance team captain, jeong jaehyun, can decide your teams fates. but there’s one problem, you hate eachother.

WARNINGS: mention of drugs/alcohol, language, jokes about sex, mention of injury, some usage of ballet terminology, lots of extensive lore?, angst, lots of angst, slowburn as fuck obviously, major character betrayal, lots of lying, i mean LOTS of lying, jaehyun is an asshole for like 50% of this, the plot gets v messy and confusing but i live for that so

DISCLAIMER: all portrayals of people are fake and from my imagination, in no way am i claiming that they act like this irl.

written wc: 8.8k

STATUS: complete! — 09.03.24 - 10.02.24

TAGLIST - OPEN!

MASTERLIST

[profiles one] || [profiles two]

[one — jungwoos scared of girls]

[two — that can’t be good]

[three — well that sucks]

[four — he’s stalking you]

[five — we were just friends]

[six — the man he was] half written

[seven — i need to talk to you]

[eight — i’ve waited so long]

[nine — roses]

[ten — im over you]

[eleven — ur over me?]

[twelve — betrayal] written chapter

[thirteen — dimples]

[fourteen — conflict] written chapter

[fifteen — i never knew]

[sixteen — you’re welcome, btw]

[seventeen — she deserves to know]

[eighteen — it was me.] written chapter

[nineteen — hey guys…]

[twenty — collab of the century]

[twenty-one — i’m happy he’s over u]

[twenty-two — i did it for you] written chapter

[twenty-three — no one knows except..]

[twenty-four — that same old dimpled smile] written chapter

[twenty-five — everything about you]

[twenty-six — however hard it may be.] half written

[twenty-six and a half — it’s finally happening]

[twenty-seven — they can wait]

[twenty-eight — ive nothing to fear] written chapter

[twenty-nine — they don’t know we know they know we know]

[thirty — in perfect sync.] written chapter

end.

replies, likes and reblogs are all greatly appreciated! feel free to send thoughts and requests in my asks: characters, scenes, chapters etc.

[anastacialy]

hello! first, i wanna say you're totally right here. all the points you made are correct, and i agree with your additions, as i agreed with your original post. i wouldn't reblog something to simply disagree in the tags! the tags were there as an addition and a slight rebuttal to opinions that opposed yours. for instance, when a lot of the fandom said colin should have to beg for penelope's forgiveness for saying he'd never court her, i disagreed wholeheartedly, and thought his scene of making amends was lovely, and more than made up for his actions. i don't like the way a lot of this fandom treats colin, and i'm sorry to have seemed to be doing the same. i think some of my tags and tone were misinterpreted here though, so i just want to clarify. i'm not great at communicating, so do try to read this post with the best and most lighthearted intentions. there's a character limit within a tag limit, so i can't always add everything i want to in the tags, and when i try to keep in concise, well, things like these tend to happen. when i said "yes it would be fun" that was meant to be read as, "yeah, yeah, i know you guys [the people who like angst] would like if this happened." which isn't totally disparaging the angst-loving people, by the way, as many actors and writers have confirmed that the original cut (pre-reshoots) of the season was angst-ier! even colin's crying and soft-spoken-ness during the whistledown reveal was unplanned, though it works entirely for his character and the two of them as a couple. the way it was written, he was meant to yell! shout! get angry! so that was my way of acknowledging that, before the second half of my tags were outright saying you were correct. imagine those subsequent tags as me going, "yeah, what they said! good point, boss!" behind you. i referenced like three or four other posts that were probably not read by you prior to this response, which is fair, since i post a whole lot. (there are fifty-five pages of bridgerton content on my blog. lmfao.) i use my tags to talk to myself and my followers, as was their original use (i've been rotting on tumblr since long before they showed up in the notes of a post), so i don't always give all the context in the world. it's kinda funny, i thought my referring to other posts for clarity was over-doing it! apparently not. i don't expect anyone who doesn't follow me to care to read my tags, but i know they're now served directly to the op, so i can see why you'd read them and disagree.

the "bite back" comment was in reference to this post, where i was commenting on the rest of the fandom's reaction to the scene. (in fact, someone reblogged that post with tags i disagree with, that seemed to miss the point of my post, ironically enough.) everyone was freaking out that he said something 'so mean' and i responded by saying, 'ok yes, if we wanted all the drama and messiness that came with the show's other couples, she'd have said something mean back to him there.' i imagined the rest of the scene playing out the same, though, where she apologizes quickly after realizing being rude to him isn't the right move. i'm not saying it would be healthy, nor better, and certainly not more in character. it was just a reference to a joke post i wrote at five in the morning after bingeing the series, and a reply to other people saying she should just call everything off in anger, which i don't agree with. the second post i was referencing was this heartbreaking drabble (which i fully thought i'd reblogged but didn't, so that one's my bad for sure) that has penelope call of the wedding for colin's sake. as in, her understanding she hurt him, and saying, 'i love you so much, i don't want to entrap you in a marriage where you'll be unhappy.' which, i did specify in the tags, by the way. this is just the annulment offer, but set earlier in the show. one thing we may disagree on, though, is that you say: "So if she said 'fine, no entrapment then, we're done' that is, realistically speaking, the death of their relationship." i personally do not think that would be the end of it. especially if, as in that fic and my tags, she called it off so as to not entrap him, to say 'no, you deserve happiness, even if it isn't with me.' i do think he'd be upset by her calling the wedding off. my interpretation of these scenes is that he still wants to marry her. when asked by kate, "does whatever new information you've learned [about penelope] truly negate [your relationship with her]?" [season 3 episode 7 timestamp 30:10] he shakes his head, no. i know this is later on in the show, but it is a feeling i think runs as an undercurrent to the feelings he shows in the scene we're discussing. so when i say his entrapment line is him "holding onto the marriage with his fingernails" i mean it is both him expressing his hurt, and him using propriety and "i am a gentleman" to keep the wedding on. this post i also referenced in the tags covers a lot of my feelings on the matter, though there are some nuances in my view there as well that i didn't bother rambling in the tags for, that time. and this one, and my tags on it, though that one's pretty /silly. but you share the same sentiment just in different words: "Yes, he still wants to marry her, not out of obligation, but because they have history and he has feelings for her." it is not truly obligation that i am arguing here, merely the illusion of obligation in order to hurt her in the moment, to hide his genuine desire to still marry her, and to deal with his more complicated feelings on his own.

also, when i say i want to write a fic about something, i mean it would be interesting to explore as an alternative to what happens in the show, to see how different actions might play out. i never, ever, in a million years think that the actual show should have changed, by the way. i make that clear in this joke post that i'm by no means the best writer. i'm also still waiting on my ao3 invite, so you're safe from my bad, ooc fanfics... for now. i was also referencing a very common joke post using the "please please please" line. i promise i don't actually think he'd say that, nor would it actually go in the fic. it's just a running joke at this point!

you extrapolated a lot about how i view penelope from these tags and, again, i understand why you would, as these are the only words of mine you've read. that's why im providing the context of my blog and other posts i'm referring to. the "no empathy" penelope you described is not at all the way i view penelope! i love her too much for that. she would be an awful partner if she behaved that way. but since we can understand colin lashed out in hurt, we can understand penelope might too, in theory, or in an au. but i understand you simply thought i was seriously saying the show should change or that this was the One True Interpretation, when i was not. context is important. uuu. [this is a joking reference to "prospects are important" and the little noise colin makes after he says his next line after that one. season 3 episode 3 "forces of nature" timestamp 8:57])

this is a great post i also recently reblogged on the topic too! and this one, which i have no clue why i didn't reblog yet. i may have been on mobile when i read it, hah. but they are saying the same thing as you here, and i agree! she truly hurt him, and he was completely within his rights to make a hurtful comment in that moment. i never said otherwise, and i certainly never said she should say or even imply that she didn't love him! i think both of us are also replying to the general fandom in this way. i genuinely love that, in canon, penelope met him with empathy and care right away. it's what he deserves! anyway, to reiterate: i agree with you! i think there were some misinterpretations of my tags and for that i apologize. i'd say agree to disagree, but i think it's mostly agree to agree (on most things) and agree to disagree (on a few small details i interpret slightly different than you) lmao! i hope this clears things up a bit!!

I guess what I find most funny about the 'She should call off the wedding because of Colin's entrapement line!' crowd is like. . .y'all really don't get Penelope at all, do you?

She has loved this man for YEARS. She's loved him through his engagement to someone else, she's loved him through him saying he wouldn't court her, she's loved him through multiple countries, through her family mocking their closeness, through a potential marriage to a Lord. She loved him so much she couldn't even DENY having feelings for him to save what she thought was her only chance of getting married. Do you know how easy it would have been for her to go 'No, we're just friends, I don't like him like that, you're proposing to me and that's what matters'? She couldn't denounce her feelings for him even THEN. Even when she doesn't think he reciprocates them and she's made peace with a life with Debling and is expecting his proposal. Colin was *always* first in her heart, through all those hurdles.

Because Colin has been kind in a cruel world, and he's made her laugh, and he encourages her confidence and he's warm and he's gorgeous and he centers her and he values her and he listens and makes her feel desired and beautiful. He's a good man, and her love for him makes her feel good, she treasures it. Even in the books she says it feels good to love a good person, whether he loved her back or not. And now she knows that he does and you think one line that Colin says in obvious hurt after finding out she's been hiding a secret persona for him is enough to shake that love? She spent what? Half a decade looking out her window pining for him and now on the eve of getting to live a life with him as husband and wife, she's going to chuck that away because of one sentence? How lowly do you think of her? How *stupid* do you think she is? To throw away the love of her life over what? Her pride? This fandom's OOC Fanon Pen is a disservice to Penelope's actual character.

Her love for Colin is steadfast. It's made of tougher stuff than all that. It has survived everything that has been thrown at it. Distance, other people, Portia. And y'all really, truly believe that a singular statement will make her go 'Naw, I don't want it anymore!' PUHLEASE. Even when she offers him that annulment, you KNOW she knows it's not on the table.

Stop playing. OF COURSE she didn't call off the wedding. Of COURSE she chose to understand where he was coming from and went 'I didn't mean to trap you, Colin, I love you'. Of course she asks what the marriage will be and is comforted by the fact that he still wants to go through with it.

Penelope Featherington has loved Colin most of her life. It has been one of the few constants in her existence. He has been good to her in said existence, consistently. He's listened, he's cared, he's apologized to her, he's taken ownership of his actions, he's invited her to be more open, he's joked with her, he's supported her, he saw her when she was invisible. She. Loves. Him. And for good reason.

It's not going away because of one line. Or two. Or three. Come back next time when you actually understand her.

[mariasont]

I'm so glad you love writing for bimbo reader x Hotch because i love READING them so much 💕

What about reader getting jealous a witness or unsub is flirting with Hotch? Kinda like how the prostitutes are always flirting with Reid but this time it's Hotch getting all awkward and reader misreading it and thinking he's interested back?

Love your stuff!

JEALOUSY, JEALOUSY - A.H

a/n: hi so im so glad you love bimbo reader 🫶🏼🫶🏼🫶🏼 that literally makes me so happy, thank you sm for requesting i hope you like that <3

masterlist

pairings: aaron hotchner x bimbo!assistant!reader

warnings: reader being jelly, kind of out of character for bimbo reader honestly, she’s also a little flustered in this fic which also feels out of character but i kind of like it idk lmk what yall think

wc: 1.2k

The space between her hand and Hotch's bicep was dangerously narrow. She was saying something--something that was way flirtier than the situation required. Matter of fact than any situation required. Your pink nails, the same shade as your favorite bubblegum lip gloss, dug into the flesh of your palm, your lips forming a tight line as you fought the green jealousy that bubbled up like champagne.

It was fine. You were fine.

Until it wasn't.

She flashed a smile at Hotch, one that was undeniably pretty which only served to make your blood boil a degree hotter.

She was stunning, black hair, red lips, perfect skin. You loved yourself, obviously, but it was not in your character to deny that this woman was gorgeous by nature and she was edgeding her chair closer to him.

"Thank you so much for your help today, Agent Hotchner." Her voice had climbed a few pitches in comparison than when she was talking privately with you. "Is it okay if I give you my number, just in case I think of anything else?"

"Of course." Hotch was smiling-- no beaming--at the woman, reaching into his pocket to grab his business card.

Your lashes fluttered up and down is disbelief, jealously rolling off of you in category nine waves. You folded your hands on top of your skirt, cleaning and unclenching until you started to lose feeling in your fingertips.

You're fine, just take a deep breath. Hotch was simply being polite. That's it. But the rationalized thoughts in your head did not match the quicksand feeling in your stomach.

Unfortunately for you, showing and expressing your feelings in an appropriate manner had always been a struggle. Articulating when things were bothering you was a foreign language to you. The other side to this was you had no logical reason to feel the way you did. He was your boss, and you were his assistant. He wasn't your boyfriend. But that fine distinction did nothing to dampen the primal impulse to reach across the desk and drag the woman by her hair. 

That was dramatic, really. It was unfair to project your ugly feelings onto her when in all honestly, in her position, you’d be doing the exact same.

As much as you loved your job and adored your boss, sometimes you wished you didn’t work for him so you could push the boundaries just a little bit when it came to flirting with him.

Thankfully, for the sake of your career, the woman gone before your rash instincts could manifest into action. You needed to get a grip and possibly go reapply your lipstick.

You spent the majority of the day, from that point, avoiding Hotch like the plague. You weren't quite equipped to sift through the emotional chaos brewing inside you, especially when your focus needed to be on getting your tasks done, not on who Hotch might be interested in. It didn't matter if he liked that woman. You could cope. Maybe.

When you did have to come into contact with him, you found yourself acting like a wounded animal. The sight of his face only served to replay that stupid smile he flashed at her. He was probably already in love, daydreaming about their shared life ahead. Their three kids, the white picket fence, maybe even a dog.

You flipped open your makeup mirror, dabbing powder on to your nose and forehead while mentally reminding yourself to pull it together and behave like the grown-up you were supposed to be.

No sooner had you left the bathroom had you crashed into something, legs betraying you as you lurched forward, nearly spiraling to the floor. Your hands shot out, closing around the nearest object which felt to be the lapels of a suit. 

Your gaze snapped into sharp focus. Yes, definitely the lapels of a suit, and not just any suit--It was Hotch's.

Fantastic.

You quickly retracted your hands, letting them hang limply by your sides as you took a cautious step backward.

His brows furrowed, lips tipping downward as he absently adjusted his watch. "You okay?"

"Peachy!”

That was too much.

You attempted to sidestep him, but he anticipated the move. His arm reached out with surprising speed, fastening around your wrist to keep you in place.

"Hey." It was funny how a single word in that deep voice of his was enough to make your heart beat a little faster. "You've been avoiding me all day. I don't want to pry, but if there's something I've done to upset you, I'd like to know so we can clear the air."

"What?" you responded too quickly, avoiding his gaze as your hand went to your neck. "Oh, no, no, it's not you, sir. I just... I think I might be catching a cold or something. Just feeling a bit woozy."

You were definitely coming down with something—it was a green, nasty disease that had your judgement in a clouded haze.

He smiled, making your heart go into overdrive. "You're a terrible liar."

"No idea what you mean." Your voice went up an octave too high. "But, um, there's a bunch of witnesses I need to follow up with. There's this one who was... really eager. Maybe she'd respond better to you?"

There was a pause before Hotch spoke, his voice low and certain. "I've seen many reactions from you, but jealousy? Is that what's happening here?"

You blinked rapidly, heat rising to your cheeks. "Jealous? That's... that's ridiculous."

"I'd like to think I know you better than that." He gave you a deadpan look. "You've been avoiding eye contact, you've been unusually quiet, and I didn't necessarily miss that look you gave her."

You swallowed hard, proving him right and looking anywhere but him as you fidgeted with the hem of your sleeve. 

"It's not... it's just, you know... I don't know, the smile you gave her, it seemed a bit unprofessional to me."

Your words tumbled out in a flustered rush, not capable of taking them back as you realized the absurdity of it all.

Hotch's eyes crinkled as he smiled. "Unprofessional? Did it look like I was flirting? Because that would be a first."

"No, I don't think you were flirting, not exactly." You should stop yourself while you're ahead. "But she was, and you didn't exactly shut it down."

Hotch's face was unreadable. "Honestly, I didn't even realize she was flirting with me. Even so, I'm curious—why would that bother you?"

"Well, I mean, I... It doesn't, not really. I just think we should all be focused, that's all," you managed, voice faltering as you tried to be convincing.

"I assure you, my focus is on all the right places," Hotch said, taking a step closer that almost felt invasive. His gaze dropped to your lips momentarily before snapping back up to your eyes.

"O-okay."

The closeness of him was sending your body into overdrive, the room suddenly feeling too small, his presence way too intense.

"And just for the record," Hotch said over his shoulder as he turned to leave. "If I were to flirt, trust me, it would be with someone who already had all my attention."

taglist: @hotchhner @khxna @readergf @sarcasm-and-stiles @edencherries @aurorsworld @princess76179 @malindacath @freyy253 @broadwaytraaaaash

[stevie-petey]

episode nine: the good

Soon it’s just you and Steve. You work around one another, anticipating each other’s next move, never getting in the way. Soft music plays from the record player that sits in the den. Steve puts on one of his father’s old records, gentle rock and delicate jazz. You hum to yourself, he hums with you, and it’s a peaceful morning. Until Richard and May Harrington walk in. Neither of you notice them at first. Steve is too busy spinning you around, playfully dipping you as the music comes to a grand crescendo. You’re laughing breathlessly, but soon your laughter turns into a yelp when Steve sees his parents standing in the doorway and drops you.

Summary: the party battles the horrors of high school and leave you stranded, tw: applying for college is harder than fighting literal demons (you would know, youve done it), jonathan joins your nightmare blunt rotation, max worries you, and steve solidifies his position of Best Boyfriend in the World as you slowly fall apart (though is anyone really surprised ??).

Rating: general, some swearing

Warnings: cursing, allusions to previous character death

Words: 11.2k idk how or why i needed to say so much

Before you swing in: we're here !!! FINALLY at the end of season 3 <3333 im so so so excited to present to you the groundwork for what i have planned for season 4 ;) it will be ... a lot. the season is huge, its difficult and scary, and i did my best to try and capture its dread and ominous sense of doom in this chapter. please enjoy and bear with me as i prepare for season 4. unsure when i will be done planning her, but i PROMISE itll be worth it !!

-

“Are you sure Ms. Bote is nice?”

“Yes.”

“And that Mr. Cune won’t question the hat?”

“Yes, Dustin.”

“And you’re absolutely sure we have lunch together?”

“Yes.” You tighten the straps on your mary janes and give your brother an exasperated look. All morning he’s been freaking out about his first day of high school. You understand his fear, it’s scary starting at a new school, but you’ve answered all his questions a million times by now and Steve is supposed to be here any second. “We need to go, buddy.”

Dustin shoves a pancake into his mouth, wiping his face with the back of his hand in a disgusting manner. “Wait, but what about my backpack–”

“I have it, Dusty!” Your mother walks into the kitchen and hands it to him. She kisses his mess of curls and strokes your cheek. “Are my darlings ready for their first day of school?”

“No.” You and Dustin say at the same time, which your mother frowns at. 

Dustin adjusts his backpack and gives you an odd look. “Why are you nervous? It’s not like you’re being blindly thrown into a den of hormonal creatures out for blood. You’re old now, they’ll leave you alone!” 

“Trust me, the college admissions process is a worse monster than school bullies.” You grab your own backpack and start heading towards the front door. “I have to start planning what to write, I–I need more clubs, and projects, and–”

The anxiety overwhelms you. It always starts like this: talk about college, you fall down a hole of uncertainty and dread and fear. It’s been like this ever since Jonathan moved away. The minute the Byers moved, you threw yourself into preparing for college. Rationally, you know it’s your poor way of coping with all the sudden change in your life. You don’t need a psychological research journal to tell you that. In a futile attempt to control your future, you’ve become obsessed with college. 

New York University, specifically. 

Jonathan has always dreamed of attending, and when you met him, it became your dream, too. 

“Okay, dear. Settle down, now.” Your mother places a hand on your shoulder and laughs nervously. She has about five seconds before you collapse into a mess of college admissions rambling and despair. “Let’s go outside and find that wonderful Stevie!”

Your body is shoved out the front door alongside Dustin’s. Steve’s car is parked, he stands outside it, arms crossed and a grin on his face. Your body relaxes when you see him, the buzz of anxiety dims. He’s wearing his Family Video vest, the green makes his tanned skin glow.

“She’s doing it again.” Dustin tells him, tossing his backpack into the backseat.

Steve winces. He knows exactly what your brother is referring to. He’s been at the other end of far too many anxious phone calls at three in the morning. “College?”

“Yeah, she almost had a meltdown in the kitchen.”

“I can hear you both, you know.” Though you try to seem fine, keep up the annoyance, you stand next to Steve and rest your head on his shoulder anyways. He wraps an arm around you and kisses your forehead. 

Steve rubs your arm and makes a sympathetic noise. Your mother, seeing how he holds you, squeals. “Oh, stay just like that, hold on!”

“Mom, what–” But your mother ignores you and runs back inside the house. You look at Dustin, terrified. “She’s not…”

He shakes his head at you. He leans against the car next to you and crosses his arms, mimicking Steve’s earlier stance.  “She’s mom. Of course she is.”

“What are you guys talking about–” A flash of light momentarily blinds Steve, and he flinches. “Woah, alright.”

“Smile, kids!” Another camera flash, and your mother coos as you, Steve, and Dustin awkwardly shuffle into frame. It’s not that the three of you dislike being near the other, it’s the fact that it’s seven in the morning and neither you nor Dustin are ready for the day ahead. Steve smiles, though. “That’s it! Everyone say, ‘happy first day of school’!”

A mess of incoherent mumbling follows your mothers command, but she doesn’t let it bother her. She takes a million pictures, preens when she sees Steve smile even wider, and she has to hold back tears. Her babies are all grown up. Dustin is a freshman now, and you’re a senior.

“Alright, Mrs. Henderson,” Steve has to quickly blink, trying to regain his eyesight. He adores the woman, he knows he’s become her favorite, but he really needs to get you to school before his shift at Family Video starts. “I have no doubt you’ve already taken the best picture ever.”

“Aw, just one more–”

“Mom.” Dustin clears his throat, urging her to stop, and she sighs. 

Your mother kisses Dustin’s head, then yours, and wishes you a good first day before getting into her own car to drive to work. “Bye, kids!”

You all wave at her, and Steve opens the car door for you. Once you’re seated, he goes to the driver’s side and tells Dustin to get in the back. The engine starts, soft music plays from Steve’s radio, and soon the three of you are driving towards Hawkins high. 

“No Robin?” You ask Steve after a few minutes of silence. He’s grown rather close to the girl, working together all summer, so you had expected her to drive with you guys to school. When you and him officially got together, Robin made the two of you promise that you wouldn’t abandon her. It was an irrational fear, you love Robin dearly, but you made sure to spend time with her and Steve equally anyways. 

“She has band practice this morning,” Steve responds. “So it’s just me and the Hendersons today.”

Dustin shoves his head in between the two of you. His seatbelt strains against his chest, but he doesn’t care. He’s on a mission to get as much information as he possibly can. He refuses to go into high school blind and pathetic. “Steve, you were once popular.”

“Why the past tense? I mean, I’d consider myself still pretty well liked–”

“I need you to tell me what you did that led to your demise so I can avoid doing the same.”

You snort and Steve sighs. The kid really keeps him humble. He stops at a light, looks at Dustin through the rearview mirror, and shakes his head. “What makes you think it was anything I did?”

“Kid’s got a point,” you say from the passenger seat. Steve gives you an offended look and you raise your hands in surrender. “Hey, all I’m saying is that I also don’t really know what happened. You’ve got a track record of pissing off the wrong people. One minute you were King Steve, the next you were shunned.”

Steve groans. “You people have no faith in me.” He can feel you and Dustin staring at him, unbelieving. He hates when the two of you team up against him; it makes it harder for him to lie. Truthfully, he doesn’t want to tell you what happened. Not because he’s embarrassed, or ashamed, even. 

He knows it will only upset you. Reopen wounds. 

But you and Dustin keep staring at Steve and there’s still at least ten minutes left of the drive. Weighing his options, Steve figures it’s best if he just tells the truth. Like ripping off a bandaid, knowing the pain will be there regardless of how long you stall. “Okay, fine.” He scratches his nose, clears his throat. “It was, uh. Because of Billy.”

The temperature in the car drops. It’s suddenly ice cold. 

Dustin slowly leans back against his seat. Steve faces ahead, eyes on the road, but he watches you from his periphery. No one has mentioned Billy since his death, at least not in front of you or Max. 

Especially Max. 

They wait for you to react. To tense up, ball your hands into fists and wipe away tears. They expect the guilt you’ve barely kept hidden to resurface, but you don’t do any of that. Instead, you surprise them. “Can’t believe you let a mullet defeat you.”

Steve isn’t sure if he’s allowed to laugh at first, worried it’s some bizarre test of yours. But he sees the smile on your face, albeit forced and terse, but he knows you’re trying. So he plays along, relieved that you’re doing what you can. “I don’t know, I thought the mullet looked pretty good.”

“Get a mullet and see how fast I leave you.”

Dustin nods in agreement, Steve shakes his head with a laugh, and the temperature in the car returns. There’s still a slight chill in the air, there will always be a slight chill, but you pull your jacket tighter around you and ignore it. 

When you get to the school, Dustin stares at the hounds of teens all walking through the parking lot. He gulps, tightens his hands around his backpack, and you try to ease his apprehension. 

“Hey, look at me.” He does, and you extend your arm, offering a handshake. Dustin eyes you wearily, but reluctantly he shakes your hand. You nod at him, hand firm around his. “It’s just you and me. And Lucas. Max, too. Unfortunately, possibly Mike. Copy?”

“Copy.” Dustin releases your hand and salutes you. He pushes his hat down, takes a deep breath, and unbuckles his seatbelt. “Let’s go.”

“Good luck, little Henderson.” Steve salutes him as well before turning to you. He presses his lips to yours, hums, a soft smile on his face. “And good luck, angel.”

Ignoring Dustin’s dramatic gagging in the back, you squeeze Steve’s hand and smile back at him. “Thanks, honey. Have a good day at work.”

Dustin nearly falls out of the car with how fast he scrambles out of it. He’s about to ban all forms of physical affection between you and Steve. It’s disgusting. No one wants to see any of that. You follow after your brother and exit the car.

You only make it a few feet before Steve rolls down the car window and shouts, “I love you!”

A few students in the parking lot turn, and their faces contort into shock when they see none other than Steve Harrington. He waves at them, cocky as always, and you’re both mortified and so in love. He may have lost his crown, but he will always be the king. While Dustin ducks his head down in embarrassment, you wink at Steve. “I love you, too!”

“You’re going to be the reason I end up getting thrown into a dumpster on my first day.”

“Aw, is Dusty-bun jealous?”

“Go die.”

–

The entire day it feels like you’re missing something. 

When you get to homeroom, there isn’t a seat saved for you at the front. When the physics teacher drops his chalk five times within the first five minutes, there isn’t anyone to tease you for your poorly contained snicker. In the library, you’re forced to sit in a corner because there’s no one to share the plush sofa with. 

There’s no one who whispers answers to you during calculus. No one who hooks their foot around your desk’s leg. No one who doodles in your notebook just to get you to laugh. 

Jonathan’s absence is palpable. 

You knew it would feel weird, starting senior year without him, but you didn’t think it’d feel so lonely, either. Empty. Unfinished. 

By the time lunch comes, you’re slowly losing your mind. You need someone to talk to. Robin and Nancy don’t share any classes with you, Jonathan had been your only real friend at Hawkins, and now you’re paying the price. 

You’re the first one at the lunch table, which you figure is a good thing. Earlier in the week you and the party had all agreed to sit together at lunch, you’d been excited to finally share the same school building as them. However, you hadn’t wanted to hover over them. You wanted them to branch out, meet new people, so lunch was your agreed upon time with them. 

The lunch room fills with students and you wait anxiously for the rest of the party. You’re excited to see them, ask how their days are going, maybe even gossip about the freshmen, but when they arrive it’s almost as if a tornado rips right through you. 

“There you are!” Dustin finds you first and slides into the seat next to you, nearly causing you to face plant into the ground. “Look, we gotta talk.”

You frown. “Okay, is everything–”

“We can’t stay and eat.” Mike cuts to the chase, not even bothering to sit down. Lucas stands behind him, quiet and nervous.

“What, why?”

“Eddie Munson wants to meet us.” Dustin says the boy’s name as if you should know him. But you don’t, and now you’re really confused. What does he have to do with any of this?

“Eddie…?”

Mike rolls his eyes at you. “Eddie Munson, Hellfire club, DnD?” When he sees that nothing he’s saying makes any sense to you, he huffs. “Seriously, do you not know anything?”

You throw a chip at him, hurt. “I was in choir, not some stupid DnD club.”

“Hellfire club isn’t stupid–”

“Anyways!” Dustin cuts the fight short. There isn’t time for you and Mike to argue right now. “Eddie is the dungeon master, and he’s recruiting us to join his party! We–we gotta go and meet him, Y/N. He doesn’t just let plebe freshmen like us join.”

“He’s legendary.” Mike says, and sadly you know he means it. It’s not often someone has the boy’s full admiration. Mike is hard to impress, and this Eddie guy seems to have him wrapped around his finger already.

Dustin stares up at you, eyes pleading to understand, and you know you can’t ruin this for him. Only hours ago he had been terrified of his first day, and now he’s almost vibrating with excitement over the possibility of joining some club. There will be people there like him, others interested in what he loves, and you can’t let your own loneliness ruin that. 

“Well,” you clear your throat, try to appear excited for the boys. “Go see Eddie, then.”

“You sure?” Dustin doesn’t want to just leave, he knows you were looking forward to lunch today. He’ll stay if you need him to, he’s sure Mike can talk his way in with Eddie. 

You smile at him, force your voice to be light. They’re growing up. You all are. “I’m sure, it’s your first day. You’re supposed to be joining a bunch of clubs, it’s a good way to make friends. I’m proud of you. Seriously.”

Dustin isn’t entirely convinced, but Mike has already grabbed his arm to go and find Eddie. He turns to Lucas, beckons him to follow. “C’mon, dude.”

“I’ll-uh. Follow in a sec.” Mike gives him an odd look, but Lucas is already sitting down next to you. Seeing this, Mike gives up and leaves with Dustin. As soon as they’re gone, Lucas lowers his voice and leans in close to you. “Hey, do you, uh. Know Jason Carver?”

The scent of chocolate ice cream infiltrates your nose, the sound of it colliding into the teen’s pants rings in your ears. The memory of it is tangible, and you have to hold back a laugh. Yeah, you know Jason Carver. “I mean, we aren’t friends, but we know each other. Why?”

“Do you…” Lucas looks around, making sure Mike and Dustin really are gone, before he continues. “Do you think he’d let me join the basketball team?”

You’re surprised. Sure, Lucas has always shown an interest in the sport. He plays with Steve sometimes, they trade cards, but you didn’t think he’d be interested in the school’s team. “Oh.” Then, you realize why he’s stayed behind. “You don’t want to join Hellfire, do you?”

“I know I’m just a freshman, and–and Mike would probably call me dumb for wanting to even try out, but. I don’t know. I think… I think I could be really good on the team. Might make high school easier.”

“Then you should go for it,” you reassure Lucas. He’s always been so careful to not upset others. He’s loyal, down to his very core, you understand the fear that doing something for yourself brings. “Jason isn’t so bad. A bit much, but kind. He’s a team player, and I think they'd be lucky to have someone like you.”

Lucas smiles shyly at you. “Really?”

“Really. Now, go and find the guy. Ask him when try-outs are, and I’ll talk to Steve about practicing more with you. How’s that sound?”

“You’re the best!” Lucas gives you a quick hug, already getting out of his seat, and runs right into Max. They collide, he manages to save her from falling, and he laughs sheepishly. “Sorry, you okay?”

Max nods, silent, and immediately you and Lucas know that today is one of her bad days. Her eyes are sunken in, it doesn’t look like she got any sleep last night. She sits down next to you, and you nod at Lucas, signaling to him that it’s okay if he leaves. You’ll take care of her. 

Lucas hesitates, unsure, but reluctantly leaves when you nod at him once more, urging. If it was anyone else, he would stay, but it’s you. Besides Lucas, you’re the only other person Max talks to. You’ll stay with her, Lucas deserves to go and branch out like Mike and Dustin are.

“So, did you know about Lucas wanting to join the basketball team?” You turn to Max once the boy has left. She shrugs, picks at the food in front of her. It’s the most response you’ll get from her, and you sigh. “You don’t want to be here either, do you?”

She looks up at you, alarmed that you caught on so fast, and you just shake your head at her. You dig into your backpack, take out some cookies you baked the night before. They were supposed to be for all the kids today, but they’ve all left and Max needs them more right now. “Here, take these. Go to the left stairwell, next to the choir room. No one goes there during lunch, it’s quiet.”

“Thank you,” Max exhales with relief, taking the baked goods from you. Tears lump in her throat, she doesn’t know how you always manage to do this. To see through her, always say the right thing. 

“Of course, my dear.” You risk touching her face, she’s cold, but she closes her eyes and breathes in at the comfort. “I expect to see you at Bookstrordinary after school today, though.”

Somehow Max laughs, and the action hurts her to do so. It’s becoming harder and harder to bear the sound of her own happiness. But she nods at you, understanding that it’s an order she can’t disobey, and leaves. 

Then it’s just you at the lunch table. Alone. 

Nancy is at yearbook, she’s told you all about her grand plan of reforming the club into something more than just homecoming polls and gossip panels. Robin is at yet another band practice, preparing for the annual back to school pep rally later this week. Steve is at Family Video, bored out of his mind, both of you wishing he were here instead. 

And Jonathan is across the country, at an entirely different school, aching to be near you again. 

The thought of him in California only intensifies the loneliness that you feel. The feeling overwhelms you, and before it can swallow you whole, you dig through your backpack once more. Your fingers shake as you rustle through the notebooks and textbooks, and they clutch desperately at your walkman when you finally find it. The mixtape Jonathan made for you before he left sits within it. 

You quickly place the headphones over your head, muffling the sounds of the cafeteria around you. Your fingers find the play button with practiced ease, and soon the beginning notes of the Beatles play through the wire and into your headphones.

The song soothes you, it quiets what you don’t want to hear; it makes you smile. The mixtape is all you’ve been listening to ever since Jonathan left. Though it can never replace his presence, it’s enough for now. 

You stare at the empty seats around you. John Lennon’s voice floats through your ears. 

Welcome to senior year.

– 

Miraculously, it’s Nancy you lean on the most as the autumn leaves turn orange and the summer’s heat dies down. She finds you later during your first week, grabbing lunch from your locker, and she stops you. 

“Don’t tell me you’re going to spend another lunch alone.” Nancy has never been one to greet someone. She always gets straight to the point, a quality that you normally admire.

However, you feel embarrassment rise within you, slightly off put by the cruel words. Sure, you’re not necessarily thrilled that you’ve spent your first few days of senior year alone, but you didn’t need Nancy reminding you of that. “Hello to you too, Nance.”

“Shit, I didn’t mean to offend you.” She holds her notebook close to her chest and looks down in shame. It’s weird, there’s a distance between you that has only seemed to widen despite how hard the two of you try to bridge it. For a while things were good, great, even. She was genuinely your friend, but sometimes insecurities can hurt the ones people love the most. 

“Not really sure how I was meant to take that.” You close your locker and try to excuse yourself. You’re exhausted, you hardly slept the night before. “Look, I should go. I stayed up all night working on stupid college applications and I just… I’m tired.”

Nancy’s posture straightens, eager to grab onto any opportunity to amend things with you. “I can read over whatever you have.” When you raise your eyebrows at her, she quickly backtracks, worried she’s overstepped. “I–I mean, that is, if you want. Not that you need the help! It’s just–”

She forces herself to stop. She’s rushing her words, messing it all up. Her shoulders drop, Nancy takes a deep breath and looks you in the eye. She never apologized for her words earlier this summer. The way she sneered venom at you, but she’s carried the guilt of it ever since. “I’m… trying. I promise I am.”

Nancy Wheeler and Jonathan Byers have never handled vulnerability well. It’s what made you stand out against them, set you apart, and you can’t help but find this quality in them endearing. You know that Nancy is trying to go back to how things were, before one phone call between the two of you revealed the unspoken resentment she held. 

You never blamed her for any of it. But you know she blames herself, and Jonathan’s absence doesn’t help; both of you miss him, neither of you can afford to lose anyone else. 

So you try as well.

“I’ll let you read over what I have only if you let me read what you’ve written as well.” You nudge her shoulder with yours, getting her to finally smile. “I’m curious to see what that brain of yours has thought of already.”

Nancy laughs, relieved. “Definitely nothing as creative as whatever you’ve written.”

“We’ll see about that, Wheeler.”

Soon you find yourself in the yearbook room. Nancy introduces you to some kid named Fred, who moons over her the entire time you’re there, though she doesn’t seem to notice. She’s too busy reading through your ideas, and you find yourself admiring her side profile. The way her eyelashes kiss her brows, the soft cherry on her lips.

Nancy is beautiful. You understand how Jonathan and Fred and Steve and countless other guys in Hawkins have lost their minds over her. 

You read through portions of Nancy’s writing, and the two of you sit quietly side by side editing the essays. She marks some things down, crosses out some lines, and you do the same. It’s lovely, being by her side again. You hadn’t realized just how much you missed her following the events of this summer. 

“So, New York University, huh?” Nancy eventually breaks the silence.

You nod, humming as you skim over a line that you particularly like. Circling it, you respond. “Yeah, it’s been my dream school ever since I was young.”

Though you’re applying to other schools as well. A few state schools, some in Virginia, close to your father. But New York is truly where you hope you’ll be next fall.

“Jonathan mentioned that you like psychology, right?”

“Yup,” you cross out an extra word. “Particularly child psychology. Figured that after everything we’ve been through, especially the kids, it’d be useful if at least one of us has any idea what’s going on inside our minds.”

Nancy chuckles. “Fair.”

It falls quiet again, but you don’t want the peace to end. “I heard from Jonathan that you’re looking into Emerson.”

“He tells you everything, doesn’t he?” Though this time Nancy’s question is asked with fondness, slight exasperation and humor mixed in.

“Mhm, we’re a package deal. You tell one of us something, then the other is bound to know eventually.” You look up at Nancy and lightly touch her arm. “Though he still keeps some things from me when it comes to you, don’t worry.”

She laughs again, and finally you allow the silence to settle upon you. It’s a comfortable one. There isn’t a tension underlying it. For the first time in a long time, you’re able to simply sit next to Nancy and feel that she wants you there with her. 

After that day, you and Nancy spend almost every lunch period helping each other with your applications. 

Steve helps you, too. In his own ways. 

While he can’t help you write the essays, he lets you call him at two in the morning to rattle off application ideas so you won’t forget them. He doesn’t complain when you wake him up and he has an early shift the next day. Instead, he listens. Steve offers you his own tired input and indulges in whatever you need to feel that you’ll succeed; he’s the most doting, patient boyfriend you could ever ask for. 

And, secretly, Steve adores it. Especially when you call him some nights just to have him come over and hold you. 

Those are his favorite nights. Tonight is one of them.

“Why does college exist?” Your cheek is pressed against Steve’s chest as you lay in your bed together. The steady rise and fall of his breathing is melodic. 

He plays with a strand of your hair, you feel him shrug. “‘Dunno, but you’re almost done.”

“Yeah, just have one more application to send before I get to spend four agonizing months waiting to find out if I even get in. How fun.” Sarcasm drips from your lips. You’ve spent the last two months obsessing over it all, which words to write in your essays, which clubs to join, which teachers to beg for recommendation letters. 

And now you have one application left. Then you’ll be forced to wait, without any control of the inevitable outcome. 

You’ve never been someone comfortable with letting go of control. 

“Everything will be fine, angel. NYU would be stupid not to let you in.” Steve reassures you with a kiss to your temple, then to your cheek, the tip of your nose, the dip of your brows. As he kisses you, he envisions doing this a year from now, in a small, rundown apartment with sirens wailing outside and a fire escape that creaks in the wind. The song of New York City. 

Eventually Steve’s lips will find yours, and the conversation will be long forgotten. It’s how most of your nights end now, lost in the kisses as his breath mixes with yours. Hands will wander. Sighs will leave parted mouths. Quiet, soft, aware of the precariously thin walls. 

You haven't slept with Steve, at least not yet. Though you’ve been together a few months now, it still feels too soon. He’s your first boyfriend, your first kiss, your first real love, and Steve doesn’t want to rush you. If all you ever do together is lazily kiss and breathe each other in, then Steve will happily part your lips with his and draw soft sighs out from you.

In the morning you’ll awake with Steve’s lips on your neck, his eyes shining up at you, and in the morning sunlight, before you’ve fully woken up, the air between you is sacred. 

–

“I sent in my final application,” you’re whispering, not wanting to wake up your mom who has fallen asleep on the couch. It’s nearly midnight in Indiana, but in California it’s only nine and Jonathan has just finished his school work for the night. “NYU, it’s done.”

On the other end you hear shuffling as Jonathan leans against his kitchen wall. Will sits at the table with El, he sketches the early stages of a painting and she studies grammar. Jonathan watches them, his mom is in bed, and he forgets for a moment that he’s on the phone with you.

“Bee?” You say the childhood name so softly, so tenderly with concern, and it brings Jonathan back to himself. 

“I’m here, sorry.” He clears his throat, his head is still slightly muffled. Jonathan met a guy in woodshop this week, his name is Argyle, and somehow during lunch he found himself in the back of the guy’s van with a blunt hanging loosely from his lips. The smoke dulled the ache of missing Nancy, of missing you. Jonathan can’t tell you this, though. You’d kill him, and he hates disappointing you. “What were you saying?”

You frown slightly, he sounds different. There’s something in his voice, it’s raspy and he sounds distant. The sound is lonely, he sounds lonely. Jonathan isn’t really here, despite the fact that he’s talking to you. The last few phone calls have been like this. You don’t know what to do.  

When Jonathan left, the two of you promised to call each other every Friday, a compromise. A way to create distance, yet tether you to each other. Jonathan calls you every Friday, Nancy gets him every day the rest of the week, and it works. This is how it’s always been ever since early September.

At first you guys would talk about how your weeks had gone. Jonathan would complain about the California heat and you would tell him about how Mike and Lucas had crashed your date with Steve one night. Laughter would float over the telephone lines. Teasing, whispered “I miss you’s” and spoken goodbyes with the promise of talking again next week. 

But last week when you called, the teasing was gone. The laughter was minimal. You had complained about an exam that day and Jonathan had given one word responses that had worried you. It had been odd, but you thought that maybe he’d been tired that day. Everyone has a bad day, you know this.

Yet it’s Friday again and Jonathan couldn’t feel farther away from you.

“I mailed my NYU application in, bee. You send in yours yet?” Voice light, cheery. You do what you can to try and keep him afloat. You try to grasp at the good that’s left between you. Remind Jonathan that you’re right here, still with him, without scaring him away. “You remember our plan, right? Me and you in New York, together.”

Since you were kids the plan has always been to go to college together. Back then, neither of you could fathom a reason to ever be apart. You were invincible, the same way all kids think they are before the world tells them otherwise. 

But you and Jonathan aren’t invincible, you never were. 

You can hear the way your question suffocates him. The breath that he holds, stilted and torn, suffocates you as well. 

Nausea punches Jonathan, the smoke from earlier suddenly fogs his throat. He doesn’t know what to do. Nancy wants him to go to Emerson with her, he promised you NYU when he was twelve, and California has his mother and Will.

“Yeah, yeah. I–I mean, I sent mine in. Last week.”

Jonathan is lying. You’ve known him for almost six years; he always stumbles over his words when he lies.  

Part of you wants to ask him why he’s doing this, lying to you and pulling away. Another part of you, the larger, more naive part, doesn’t want to believe it. You clear your throat, swallow down the hurt, and choose naivety. “Oh,” your tone is too pinched, too put together. You clear your throat again. “That’s–that’s great! I, um. Surprised you didn’t read the essays to me. Have me edit them, like we’ve always done.”

Jonathan leans his head against the wall and squeezes his eyes shut. He’s never been able to lie to you, he knows you’re desperately trying to overcompensate, as you always do. He hates it. He hates himself. “Yeah, well. Got excited, I guess.”

You hum, words failing you, and the line goes silent.

Dread replaces the laughter that night.

– 

Before you know it, it’s Halloween and the party has infiltrated Steve’s house. 

The holiday falls on a Saturday, and the party deems itself too old to trick or treat. When they find out that Steve’s parents won’t be home that weekend, they demand to spend the night at his house and watch horror movies.

Steve fights back, complains that he doesn’t want them taking over his living room, but his complaints fall on deaf ears. That, and Dustin ropes Robin into their plans. 

“Oh, God. Don’t open the door!” Dustin shrieks, throwing popcorn at Steve’s TV as he covers his eyes with a blanket. He cowers against Lucas, who shoves him off, and Mike snickers. Max sits on the couch, outside of their fort, and watches the boys. None of them try to get her to sit with them. They know they’re lucky that she even showed in the first place. 

“I can’t look.” Robin’s voice carries over, you can almost picture her cringing as she holds a pillow to her chest. Mike chose a particularly gory movie, and the kid’s mind frightens her.

A loud crash sounds, then a woman screams. You figure the protagonist did open the door and has now died, though you can’t be sure. You’re in the kitchen with Steve, taking out the final batch of oatmeal raisin cookies from the oven. The smell wafts through the home, bringing warmth to a house that Steve has always found cold, and he places his hands on your hips. 

“You spoil the kids too much,” he presses his nose against your cheek and kisses you. “They invade my home and you bake them delicious goods.”

You set the tray of cookies down onto the counter. “As if the cookies aren’t for you, too.”

“That isn’t important. We’re focusing on my hostage house, Y/N.”

“‘Hostage house’, quite the alliteration there.”

Steve now kisses your neck, distracting you as you plate the cookies. “I love it when you talk dirty to me.” 

“Don’t make me come in there!” Dustin screams, and Robin echoes him with her own disgusted yelling. 

You laugh at their theatrics while Steve rolls his eyes. He really hates that his house has become the party’s source of entertainment. He just wants to compliment his beautiful girlfriend in peace. Who would punish a guy for that?

In his moping Steve almost misses you walking back into the living room. He follows, stumbles over his feet, never wanting to be more than a few inches away from you. You’re magnetic, always pulling him in. 

Mike is the first to grab a handful of cookies. Lucas and Dustin follow quickly after. They shove the food into their mouths and you scoff at their lack of manners. They’re such boys, growing taller every day, and they’re just as disgusting as they were when they were kids. 

“Want one, Max?” You hold the plate up to her, noticing that she hasn’t moved from her seat. She shakes her head at you, eyes never leaving the screen. Lucas and you share a look, the same concerned expression on your faces. 

The moment is broken by Robin, who grabs a cookie and practically melts. “Holy shit, Y/N. You bake these regularly?”

“Usually once a week,” you shrug at her. “Though I once baked six batches during finals week.”

“God, that was a good week.” Dustin hums, lost in the blissful memory.

Robin grabs your arm, eyes wide with enthusiasm. “I will give you my firstborn child in exchange for my own batch of cookies.”

Steve pokes her shoulder. “You already promised your firstborn to me after I agreed to cover your weekend shift.”

“I can have twins.”

You laugh at her. “That’s a terrifying thought.”

Robin sticks her tongue out at you, causing you to laugh even more, and Mike puts the next movie on. Everyone settles back down, you lay with Steve in the lovechair with Robin in front of you. Max has the couch to herself, the boys are sprawled on the floor in a mess of pillows and blankets, and for the first time in months you feel a certain warmth having your family together. 

Sometime during the night the clock strikes twelve. 

It’s November 1st, 1985. 

Steve’s nineteenth birthday. 

Robin snores softly on the ground, arm underneath her head as a makeshift pillow. Mike, Dustin, and Lucas are all curled up against one another, their faces young again. Max sleeps softly on the couch, her hand dangles over the edge, grazing Lucas’ outstretched arm and open palm. 

Steve lays beneath you, he isn’t quite asleep yet. You’ve come to learn the rhythm of his breaths as he sleeps. The way they slow, the pattern steady. You lift your head up, wanting to admire him, and find that he’s already looking at you. 

“Hi, angel.” He whispers, smiling sweetly. 

You smile back, you always smile back at him. “Hi, honey.” Doing your best to remain quiet, you crawl up the length of Steve and nuzzle your way into his neck. You kiss the dip just above his collarbone, causing him to shiver. “Happy birthday.”

Arms encase you, pull you deeper into the body you lay on. Steve’s body heat warms your face, warms your bones, and you wish you could stay like this forever. In Steve’s arms, the scent of him overwhelming your mind, his touch calming you. 

“Thank you,” he kisses the top of your head. He lingers, his lips soft. The two of you stay like this, his head against yours, your chin tucked into the alcove of his neck. Your breathing syncs with his, his fingers trail up and down your spine. Your fingers splay over his chest, warming his ribs. 

In the morning, Max wakes everyone up. 

“My mom will be worried,” she kicks Mike, nudges Lucas’ shoulder. “Wake up, idiots.” 

Steve groans, squinting his eyes against the morning light. He tries to roll over and block it out and nearly shoves you off the seat in the process. “Steve!” He manages to catch you in his sleepy state, but his movements are slow. 

“Sorry!”

You clutch your chest, heart pounding. “You’ve done that way too many times now. I’m starting to think you want to throw me onto the ground.”

“Lucas once promised he could catch me if I jumped into his arms.” Max says, then she points to a scar on her knee. “Turned out he couldn’t.” 

“Hey!” Lucas sits up, rubbing sleep from his eyes. “I really thought I could do it.”

Mike stretches. “Your fault for trusting him, Max.”

Lucas shoves him and the two start to wrestle on the floor. They’re a tangle of lanky limbs, knocking into Dustin who still hasn’t woken up yet. They roll on top of the boy, and he wakes up to Lucas’ knee in his face. “What the hell?”

Dustin joins the fighting now, and Robin throws a pillow at them. “Guys! It’s too early for this!”

They don’t listen. 

It takes a lot of pleading, negotiating, and bribes in order to break the fight up. It takes even longer to wrangle the kids out of Steve’s home, much to his dismay. They leave a mess of strewn popcorn all over the carpet and pillows missing feathers. You stay behind, offering to help clean the mess, and Robin rushes out an apology and happy birthday to Steve as she runs out the door to get to work. 

Soon it’s just you and Steve. You work around one another, anticipating each other’s next move, never getting in the way. Soft music plays from the record player that sits in the den. Steve puts on one of his father’s old records, gentle rock and delicate jazz. You hum to yourself, he hums with you, and it’s a peaceful morning.

Until Richard and May Harrington walk in.

Neither of you notice them at first. Steve is too busy spinning you around, playfully dipping you as the music comes to a grand crescendo. You’re laughing breathlessly, but soon your laughter turns into a yelp when Steve sees his parents standing in the doorway and drops you.

“Dad!” Steve immediately bends down to pick you up, endlessly apologetic. He ducks his head, eyes on you, though his body doesn’t turn from his father. “I’m sorry, angel. You alright?”

You reassure your boyfriend that you’re fine, more worried about the fact that you’re dressed in clothes from yesterday with horrendous bedhead meeting his parents for the first time. Richard eyes you in Steve’s arms. He has a look of disinterest on his face. “Son.”

“What, uh.” Steve clears his throat, curls a protective arm around your waist. He didn’t mean for this to happen. His parents were supposed to be gone until Tuesday. “What are you doing here?”

“I live here.” 

“Right.”

Father and son stand in front of one another. Neither speaks. Steve feels like a little boy again, scrutinized underneath his father’s intense gaze. Never good enough. Never worthy of anything other than berating and lectures. 

You wring your hands nervously, unsure what to do. The air is thick. Steve looks so much like his father, it’s almost uncanny. They have the same build, the same moles that dot along their handsome faces. Only his father is dressed in a suit, the lines in his face are hard, weathered. He’s who you picture Steve would’ve been, in a different universe where you were never his friend. 

May Harrington gave her son all of her delicate features. The soft turn of his nose. The plush, pink lips. His doe eyes, his smile. The only feature that separates her from her son is her honey blonde hair. She’s beautiful, elegant and poised, and when she steps towards you, you can smell lavender perfume. “You must be Y/N. I’ve heard a lot about you.”

“Hi, Mrs. Harrington.” You’re quick to meet her where she stands. You’re nervous, you have to discreetly wipe your hand on your pants before shaking hers. “It’s so wonderful to finally meet you. Your banana bread is lovely.”

The woman smiles, it’s so much like Steve’s that you want to cry. “Thank you, dear.”

“Of course, and I apologize for meeting like this. I didn’t mean to intrude.”

Richard makes a mean, gruff sound. He shakes his head, steps next to his wife. He doesn’t like you, you can feel it by the way he blocks his wife’s view of you. “Oh, no. I’m sure you didn’t.”

“Dad–” Steve steps forward as well, blocking his father’s view of you. He’s angry, his shoulder blades close together. He doesn’t like how the man is treating you; you’re too good for such cruelty.

“What did I tell you about bringing your hookups to the house, son?” Richard sneers, turning his nose up at you. That’s all he sees you as. Just another one of Steve’s flings, one of the girls from his past. 

“Y/N is not just some hookup,” Steve clenches his jaw, tries to steady his breathing. He doesn’t want to fight with his dad in front of you. Not when he was having such a good morning, spending his birthday with your hands wrapped around his neck and your giggles singing in his ears. “She’s my girlfriend, and I love her.”

Richard chuckles, he doesn’t believe his son. “Okay, you love her. I’m sure your mother and I will walk in on you with some new girl next week.”

“Dear,” May places a hand on her husband’s shoulder. She sees the way you shrink into yourself at the man’s words. The insecurity that he brings. She sees how her son’s eyes ignite with fury, she watches as he does whatever he can to put the flame out for her sake and yours. “It’s Steve’s birthday today.”

“Is that why you insisted on coming home today?” Richard turns to her, she has his full attention now. His eyebrows are drawn together, annoyance paints his body. “You told me you had a board meeting tonight.” 

“Why don’t we talk about this upstairs?” May suggests, relieved that she’s turned her husband’s anger onto herself rather than her son. Richard sighs, but he doesn’t argue as he marches up the stairs without so much as a second glance towards you. When he’s gone, May smiles at you sympathetically. “I apologize for my husband’s behavior. We had a long flight, I’m sure he’s simply jetlagged.” 

“Yeah, that’s why he’s such an asshole.” Steve scoffs, tired of his mother’s excuses for her husband. He can be cruel to Steve, he doesn’t care. He’s been cruel to him his entire life. But if his father so much as breathes near you again, Steve will hurt him. 

Your hand reaches for Steve’s, sensing what he’s thinking. You return May’s smile, you’re not at all angry with her. “It’s okay, really. I was an unexpected guest, and I should go.”

Steve pulls you into his chest. “What, no–”

“You may leave, if you’d like.” His mother gently interrupts him. “Though I must admit, I really do wish to know you better. If you’d allow me to, that is.”

“I’d love that more than anything.”

“Then I will plan a dinner for the next time my husband and I are in town.” May tells you, admiring your honesty. She can see why Steve has become so infatuated with you. There’s nothing hidden within you; you wear your heart on your sleeve, your sincerity a welcomed rarity. She turns to her son, rests her palm delicately against his face. “Happy birthday, my beautiful boy.”

Steve leans into her touch, weak for his mother as any son is. You turn away, it doesn’t feel right to watch this moment between them. 

In the car Steve profusely apologizes for his father’s behavior. Over and over again, he laments how sorry he is and that you’re more than just some fling to him. “You’re everything to me, angel. I love you so, so much.”

“I know, honey.” You grab his hand that rests against the stick shift. His father’s words had hurt, but you knew that they weren’t true. Steve is yours, he has been for longer than either of you realize. Nothing will ever undo the love he has for you, the foundation of trust it was built upon. “You’re everything to me, too.”

When Steve pulls into your driveway, you tell him to park and come inside. His birthday gift is in your room. You had planned to give it to him later tonight, but his parents’ unexpected arrival had soured things. “I know you have to go home, but…”

“I’ll never say no to you.” Steve’s already unbuckling his seatbelt to follow you inside. He greets your mother with a kiss to her cheek, ruffles Dustin’s hair as he sits at the dining table doing homework. His movements are easy, leisurely. You notice now how at home he is in yours, far from the boy who cowered before his father only twenty minutes ago. The realization is bittersweet. He deserves to feel at home in his own house, not just yours. 

Inside your room Steve sits on your bed and holds his hand out, eager. “Okay, wow me, Henderson.”

“You really know how to talk to a woman.” You tease him, rustling through your drawer to find the gift you’ve hidden. Steve is nosy, he’s been trying to find his gift for at least two weeks now. When you’ve found it, you clutch the gift in your hand and hold it behind your back. “Alright, you know the drill by now. Close your eyes.”

Steve complies with a smirk, biting back suggestive comments. He loves this tradition with you, making the other close their eyes before their gift. Something light is placed in Steve’s hand. It’s circular, sturdy. He thinks he can smell leather.

“Okay, open.”

In his hand is a bracelet. It’s a simple strip of leather, nothing embellishes it besides a button to secure it. Though it’s plain, Steve can tell that it’s expensive. The leather is supple, its color is dark and polished. The silver button that clasps the two ends together is heavy.

He loves it, he does, but he can’t help feeling like that there must be something more to it.

As if reading his mind, you gently prompt Steve to turn it over in his hands. “Look what’s on the inside, honey.”

He does, and his heart stops.

The leather has been stamped. The word constants is spelled out across the length of the band. It’s a hidden message, only for Steve to know, and while he’s sure you have your own explanation for why you chose the word constants, he loves it already. “Oh.”

You sit next to him and laugh softly. “You’re my constant, Steve. Everything in my life has changed, or will change, but you… You’ve always been there, I know you’ll always be there. With me. My love, my lucky charm, my constant.”

Tears well in Steve’s eyes. He doesn’t bother wiping them away, too busy admiring the bracelet in his hand. He can’t believe you’re real, that you’ve thought of this for him. That you see a future with him… It’s everything he could’ve asked for. A security he’s always longed to have. His entire life he’s been told he’s too much, too overwhelming, and yet you want him to stay anyways. 

“And you’re my constant?” He asks you, fingers grazing over the letters again.

You nudge his shoulder with yours. “Well, I’d like to think that I am.”

He laughs, wet and full of love, and he can’t take it anymore. Steve throws his arms over you and you collapse into your bed, laughing together as he presses his lips wherever they can reach. 

“You are,” he says in between kisses. Your laughter lights him. “You’re my constant, too.”

–

The autumn leaves fall and the trees are barren as winter arrives. 

You spend winter break trying to maintain your promise to Joyce. After finishing the hell that was applying to college, you have so much unexpected free time that at first you don't know what to do. But then her words echo in your mind, the promise to live the life that you deserve, so you start doing things for yourself.

Slowly you read through all the books in your room that you hadn't had time for before. You start running again in the mornings, the winter air crisp in your lungs. You and Dustin do homework together at the kitchen table, making sure neither of you get left behind. You try new recipes to bake, delivering the treats to the ones you love. It’s nice, rediscovering the pleasures you once had long before the Upside Down came into your life. 

Christmas comes and you do your annual rounds, delivering everyone’s favorite treats on Christmas Eve. It’s during your run to the Sinclair home that Lucas asks you to come inside to talk. 

“What’s up?” You ask him, unwrapping your scarf and warming your hands in your sleeves. Lucas gestures to his kitchen table, silently asking you to sit. When you do, he takes a deep breath and joins you. 

Something’s bothering him. You can see it in the way he carries a weight on his shoulders. How they droop as he sits, exhausted. You reach across the table and grab his hand, offering whatever comfort you can give him. “Whatever it is, you can talk to me.”

“It’s…” Lucas purses his lips, his breath shakes. “It’s Max. I’m–I’m worried about her.”

He tells you everything. He tells you how distant she’s been, more than she’s ever been before. He tells you how she’s missed dates he’s planned for her, how she refuses to talk to him anymore. She hasn’t been to any of the party’s hangouts, Mike and Dustin haven’t seen her ever since winter break started.

Max has had bad days, weeks, even months since losing Billy. But she’s never had the bad days without at least one good day following. To break the monotonous cycle of self-loathing and grief and guilt. She would always come back, even if for a moment, alive and bright and reminiscent of the girl had been. 

“I can feel her slipping away,” Lucas looks down at the table. He’s afraid that if he looks at you then he’ll start crying. He doesn’t want you to worry, he knows how much you already deal with and do for them, but he’s terrified. “I know… I know that you helped Will, after he was flayed. Do you think you could maybe talk to Max? Just… Remind her that we’re here for her? I can’t–I can’t lose her.”

“Hey, it’s okay,” you squeeze his hand in yours, trying to stem the stream of tears he fought so hard to force down. Lucas loves Max with everything within him. Anyone can see that. You’d do anything to bring the girl back to him, to bring her back to all of you. “I’ll talk to her.”

I’ll keep an eye on her. Watch her when you can’t. 

Lucas hears it. He exhales, nods his head.

You leave. Max was the next one on your list of deliveries anyways. 

It’s nearing dusk by the time you get to the trailer park. You haven’t seen Max’s new home, she’s only recently moved. She had been too embarrassed to tell anyone that her mother lost their old house. The only reason you even know she moved in the first place is because Lucas and Dustin stalked her walking home. 

A dog barks as you bike past. Snow has started to fall, tomorrow will be a white Christmas.

“Oh, hello, Y/N.” Susan Hargrove’s skin is pale, her eyes sunken in when she answers the door. Her voice is thin, her frame is strained. The death has been hard on her, too. Billy’s father leaving only made everything worse. 

“Hi, Mrs. Hargrove.”

The woman winces. “Please, Mayfield will be fine.”

You immediately correct yourself, apologetic and ashamed, when Max’s voice calls from within the home. “Just let Y/N in, mom.”

Susan sighs, and you wish you could do more. Instead, all you can offer her is the container of coconut bites you’ve made for them. Max told you they remind her and her mother of California, and you always make sure to have some ready every week for them. Offer some semblance of joy in the gray of their lives.

Max sits at the kitchen table. Her head is down as she works on something. She has her walkman next to her. Susan leaves the two of you alone, excusing herself to go lay down after a long shift. 

You sit next to the girl and take a deep breath. This won’t be easy. Max is prideful, stubbornly independent, and has never accepted sympathy from anyone. You’ve always admired her fiery personality, but the fire has dimmed and the smoke is beginning to choke her. Talking to her will be like pulling teeth out. 

“Brought you your favorites.” You shake the container in your hands. It serves as a peace offering, almost a bribe to start the conversation. 

“Thanks.” Max doesn’t look up. 

You swallow, tuck your hair behind your ears. “Of course. I was doing my usual delivery rounds. I, uh. Stopped at the Sinclair’s.”

The pencil in Max’s hand freezes. Her knuckles tighten, though the shift is subtle. She’s always been too smart for her own good. “Oh.”

“Yeah. Erica likes my brownies. Mrs. Sinclair, too.”

“And Lucas?” She knows why you’re here.

“I made him chocolate chip cookies. You know how much he loves them.” Max doesn’t respond. Of course she knows how much Lucas enjoys chocolate chip cookies. She knows everything about him, but she doesn’t say anything and goes back to writing. Faintly you hear music coming from the walkman. You point at the device. “New song?”

“Kate Bush.”

“Oh.” This is going worse than you imagined. “Look, Max–”

She doesn’t waste any time. “I know Lucas sent you. I don’t care.”

“He’s just worried about you, we all are–”

“I’m fine.” The tip of the pencil snaps. “Shit.”

“Max.” You’re pleading with her to listen. Her skin is fluorescent now, paler than you’ve ever seen. The bags underneath her eyes are swollen, dark and ghostly. She’s lost weight. You can’t remember the last time you saw her eat. “Please.”

“What do you want me to do?” Though there’s anger in her voice, Max’s eyes plead with you, too. Her mask slips for just a moment, but you see it. Underneath her indifferent exterior, she’s just as terrified as everyone else is. She can feel herself fading, the guilt of Billy’s death slowly eats her alive. She doesn’t know what to do, though. How do you continue to live after death has infiltrated your home?

The chair beneath you scraps against the hardwood floor. You stand up, walk over to Max and kneel in front of her. You keep your movements slow, worried you’ll scare her away if you get too close too suddenly. “I think you should talk to someone, honey.”

Max turns away. She can’t. If she told anyone what goes on inside her head, they would never forgive her. You would never forgive her, and it would break her. 

Your hand falls to Max’s knee. The warmth from your palm combats the ice in her veins. You’re looking at her as if she’s worth something. As if she didn’t wish for her brother’s death. As if she hadn’t sent a grieving father into a spiral, a desperate mother into a trailer park. But Max allows your touch, so you try to get through to her again.

“You know, I was actually talking to Ms. Kelly a few weeks ago. The school’s guidance counselor.” She had met with you to discuss your grades and college options. When she had seen how you picked your nails until they bled, she suggested seeing her every few weeks. Alleviate some of your never ending stress. You had denied, uncomfortable with the idea. But maybe she could help Max. “She seemed nice enough. I’m sure she would be open to talking with you.”

“I don’t want to see some shrink.”

“Hey, I want to work with kids your age someday. Don’t call future me a shrink.” You poke Max’s leg playfully, and the corners of her mouth twitch. She doesn’t want you to see that it’s working. “C’mon. Have at least one meeting with her. When winter break ends, all I ask is that you try. For me and Lucas. We’re your favorites, after all.”

“If I agree, will it get you to shut up?”

You’re fine with this. It isn’t ideal, you aren’t sure Max will even actually try to open up to Ms. Kelly, but it’s a start. For too long now you’ve stayed silent, allowing Max to grieve on her own. Grief is hard, it takes and it takes and it takes. Yet it’s been almost six months and you’re not sure how much left grief can take from Max. “I think I can be okay with that.”

You’ll take whatever you can get. You’re worried. You got too caught up in your own life, you had gotten lost in your own haze of grief and anxiety. Missing Jonathan, grappling with change and growing up as you applied to college. You weren’t there for Max like you should’ve been.

But you’ll fix this. You always fix things. It’s what you do. It’s what you have to do. It’s how you love; you take care of those around you.

And who are you if you can’t?

–

Jonathan calls you high for the first time in late January. 

Though he doesn’t tell you that he’s high, you know. His words are slurred, slowed, incomprehensible. It’s late in California, even later in Indiana, and the stark feeling of guilt slices into your ribcage the same way the Demodog’s claw did. The feeling cuts deep into your skin, nicks your bone. 

“Jonathan?” You hope your voice brings him back to you. You try to cut through the smoke that fills his mind, that leaves him stumbling over his words. “Bee, can you hear me?”

“‘M here.” Jonathan sniffs, smacks his lips, yawns. “Where’re you? Can’t find you, bug.”

You close your eyes. He’s looking for you, and you aren’t with him. “I’m in Hawkins.”

“Thas’ far.”

“Yeah,” you choke out a laugh. It constricts in your vocal chords, but you can’t let Jonathan know how much it hurts to hear him so disoriented. “I’m sorry.”

“S’okay. California sucks.” He hiccups, you’re surprised he’s managed to call you tonight. Even in his drugged up state, he still somehow remembered to call. “Don’t think Nance will like it.”

He’s referring to the spring break trip. Nancy told you about it earlier today, how she and Mike will spend the week in California to see Jonathan and El. She had been a bit hesitant to tell you, afraid you’d be upset for not being invited, but you reassured her that it was okay. 

You’ve had a road trip planned with Jonathan ever since you were fifteen. The moment the two of you graduate, you’ll drive all across the country for one final adventure before college. 

Nancy can have spring. Summer will be yours. 

“She’ll love California because you’re there.” She talked about the trip nonstop today. Her glow had come back, momentarily, her eyes alight. She truly loves Jonathan, she misses him even more than you do. 

“Only disappoint her.”

“What do you mean?” You’re not sure where this is coming from. You know Jonathan is high, that his thoughts may not be coherent, but he sounds distressed about Nancy. You thought things had been good between them. They were planning a future together. 

“Is’ hard, with her.” Jonathan manages to get out, but his speech is becoming harder and harder to understand.

You frown. “What’s hard, bee?”

The line disconnects. Jonathan doesn’t bring the conversation up again, the next time you call. You don’t ask him what he meant. You don’t think you want to know. There had been something deeper behind his words.

Will calls you a few days later in tears. The kids are meaner in California than they are in Hawkins. They tease El, make her life hell, and he’s upset that he can’t do anything to stop it. He cries to you, his tears soak your face through the landline, and the guilt creeps back in. 

It will never truly leave.

You do your best to console him, offer him advice, but that’s all you can do. All you have are your words. Will and El are hours away, hundreds of miles separate them from you. It's nauseating, feeling so useless. For as long as you’ve known Will, you’ve always been able to protect him. To help him, dry his eyes.

You’ve always been there for your boys, for Jonathan and Will. For El. But you can’t get to them, they’re too far away, and it kills you. You’re sixteen again, trapped in Jonathan’s car and frantically trying to keep yourself together as everything around you falls apart. 

Steve becomes your lifeline. 

He always answers when you call. Every time Jonathan, high and lonely, hangs up your conversations, you call Steve. He answers, he hears the exhaustion in your voice, and he always sneaks in through your window later that night. He knows it’s the only way you’re able to sleep these days.

He sings to you when you wake up from a nightmare. They’ve become about Max, losing her. She’s only met with Ms. Kelly a few times, but you can tell that she already wants to stop. That you’re pushing her too far, pushing her away from you and everyone else. 

Steve takes you for drives when you get blisters from pacing your room, anxiously waiting for your college decision letters to come in. Soon your entire life will be decided for you by one single piece of paper. 

Two weeks before spring break, Jonathan calls you. He’s sober.

You can’t remember the last time you’ve spoken to him sober. The thought alone depresses you, makes you yearn for childhood again.

“I think Nancy wants me to come to Hawkins,” he tells you. “Would you… would you like that?”

More than anything.

You press the phone against your ear and imagine that it’s Jonathan’s hand instead. Your skin hasn’t forgotten how his felt against it. “Of course I want you to come to Hawkins, bee.” But it can’t be that easy, you know nothing ever comes easily. “Can you afford it, though? I–I mean, God. I miss you, you know that, but I know it’s been hard for your family these last few years.”

Jonathan’s head falls back against the wall behind him. You always understand. He hates it, sometimes. “It’s worth looking into if it means I get to see you and Nance.”

There’s an air of authority in Jonathan’s voice, as if he truly believes what he’s saying, and it surprises you. He’s taking initiative after months of floating away. Hope sparks within you, the cold hand of dread lessens its grip around your neck. 

“Well, I can’t argue with that logic.” You say. Jonathan laughs, you’ve missed the sound. It’s been so long since you last heard it. 

Conversation drifts after that. You tell him about the latest Spider-Man arc you’re reading, he inserts his own opinions, and it’s lovely. You haven’t had Jonathan like this in months, all to yourself, his smile aligned with yours. Sober, steady. 

The phone call with Jonathan reminds you of all the good that is still yet to come. 

College decision letters arrive next week. Your best friend might be visiting for spring break. Your boyfriend has planned a picnic for your anniversary tomorrow. You have your first meeting with Ms. Kelly the following day. It was your idea, figuring it was only fair that you see her since Max has agreed to keep going. 

And Joyce made you promise that you’d live your own life. You’re trying to get better, you really are. 

It just takes time. 

-

⌑ series masterlist

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[areislol]

patting their head out of nowhere

ft— blade, gepard, dan heng, jing yuan, yanqing, luocha, welt, sampo

warning — none, just fluff! might be ooc, established relationship, gn! reader, mentions of killing, platonic for yanqing, characters in order

a/n— first hsr post omgggggg!! as i stated in the warning the characters might be a bit ooc because it's my first time writing for them so.. it's short im sorry :(

wordcount. 2.2k

blade 刃

✧ he was just crouching down when you, out of the blue, start patting his head.

✧ blade turns his head up to look at you, mans just.. staring at you with such cold eyes. watching as you pat his head, he's... ugh *cue a deep and "annoyed" sigh*

✧ "what is it now, Y/N?" he asks in an annoyed tone, and honestly, he could've just stood up or removed your hand from his head but he didn't. weird, isn't it? blade lets you continue your nonsense as he crouches there, pressing his lips into a thin line as people pass by, giggling and pointing at you two. they were probably talking about how cute you two were.. a tall, scary guy getting head pats from someone who isn't to scary looking. how adorable! ♡

✧ he watches you intensely with piercing eyes, but you know that there is a small glint of softness seeping out of his mask.

✧ blade doesn't really like pda out in the public but, a head pat? pfft- that's not even big! why would he be affected by something to small? so he doesn't care. (but he really does, because ohmygosh! it's you!! you're giving him head pats, so so adorable!)

✧ he doesn't mind anything when it comes to you.. but if somebody who's not you starts patting his head, they'd be dead on the ground already.

✧ whenever someone (like jing yuan) notices this cute interaction and give him a smirk and mouth "aww" he rolls his eyes and stares into their soul, because when you're done he may or may not try to kill them later <;33

✧ (blade tells you to not do that in public once you're done, but when you're both together in private he asks, in a very embarrassed tone, if you could give him some head pats.)

✧ he grumbles and mutters under his breath, something along the lines of "i can't believe it." when you smile and pat his head, he's trying to act all tough and act like he isn't affected by your actions but it's really hard to when heat rushes to his cheeks and a pink hue suddenly appears on his cheeks.

✧ "what? i'm red? don't be so ridiculous ...."

gepard 傑帕德

✧ he blinks at you in confusion when you stand on your tippy toes and gesture for him to come down to your level, when he does, you start to pat his head. ah, there it is. the flustered and confused gepard.

✧ "ohmygoshyou'resoadorablehowcanonebesocute!!!" literally his thoughts right now as you pat his head and gush over how soft his hair is, gepard is quite literally on cloud nine.

✧ gepard sort of.. malfunctions? his cheeks are so red and hot he thinks he may faint from your head pats. he freezes when you first place your hand on his head but within a few seconds he immediately melts in your touches and smiles up at you.

✧ gepard loves receiving pda from you. whether it be something small or not. he loves knowing the fact that everybody knows that you two are together from these simple loving acts. he allows you to continue patting his head (as if he could stop you) and you can see how he's blushing like crazy.

✧ he looks like a cute puppy boy who loves getting head pats (because he does) and his adorable red face makes your heart melt. once you're done with patting his head, he immediately grabs onto your hand and for a second he pauses before he slowly puts your hand down, he blushes and looks at you in an embarrassed way

✧ "i.. is it alright if you continue this later? when we're alone..?"

dan heng 丹恆

✧ hghfffffff are you trying to kill this man? could this interaction not be any cuter!?!?!? <- dan heng freaking out internally as you pat his head. dan chuckles softly and sighs in delight.

✧ dan LOVES it when you give him affection, in the public or not. if you hold his hands, he will blush, if you give him a peck on the cheek, he will blush, if you link arms with him, he will blush, if you- (you get the idea..)

✧ "truly, Y/N, you're so cute.." dan sighs, closing his eyes as you continued to pat and run your fingers through his hair. if he was a cat right now, he would be purring loudly. like, really loud.

✧ he doesn't care if his friends see him like this, it's adorable, is it not? if anything he'd smile happily at whoever's passing by or at his friends and mouth "im in heaven-uh!!" while pointing at you patting his head.

✧ your head pats give him some soft of comfort, it's like you're praising him, by patting his head. and he would love nothing more than you patting his head after doing something successfully or winning a duel.

✧ when your hands leave his head he immediately grabs your hand and places it back on his head. "don't stop, i like it." and how could you refuse? (you can't, that's the thing)

✧ so you spent like 20 or more minutes just patting his head, your hand was getting slightly tired and when he noticed how sloppy your movements were getting he let out a soft sigh and stood up, smiling down at you.

✧ "thank you for spoiling me, love. lets go get some food yeah? how about your favourite?"

jing yuan 景元

✧ he raises his brows at you in confusion and amusement. he doesn't say anything though, only staring at you with those pretty eyes and watching you pat and rub his head.

✧ slowly, his lips curve into a smirk. "dear, what are you doing? giving me head pats.. interesting.." his tone is so teasing for what reason.. jing yuan is a general, so whatever he does affects his reputation and his image, but he really doesn't care when it comes to you.

✧ like when yanqing comes running to jing yuan, looking at you patting his master's head. he's obviously thinking "what.. on earth..?" and opens his mouth to speak but jing cuts him off. "what are you here for, yanqing? im currently busy with my partner."

✧ huhu, he's such a tease, asking you why you're giving him head pats, asking if you're doing this to get his attention or something.. you can only shut him up with a chaste kiss to his lips to which he blushes at.

✧ he sighs softly and closes his eyes. taking in the calm breeze and the nice head pats you're giving, jing yuan won't really voice that he's enjoying this, but maybe his soft hums that escape his lips will tell you.

✧ but in the end when the head pat session is over, he smiles tenderly at you and leans forward to give you a quick kiss on your cheek. "i enjoyed your little head pats.. maybe you should do it more often."

✧ he gives you head pats in return as well!! it's only fair, right? once you're done with your head pats it's his turn, you're surprised at first since you didn't expect him to do that but you don't complain. his eyes soften as he sees how you're enjoying this, a faint blush on his cheeks as he continued to pat your head. you're so adorable.. it's truly a blessing to have you in his life.

✧ "it's only fair, is it not? you give me head pats and i give you them as well.."

yanqing 彥卿

✧ he looks at you in confusion as you pat his head, was this some sort of reward for finally hitting 5,000 strikes on a practice dummy? either way, he lets you continue patting his head.

✧ yanqing thinks that it'll be over soon but.. nope. you continue to pat his head and he just continues to stare at you, giving you a nervous smile when your eyes meet his. "ah.. Y/N, why..?" he stops himself from talking when you stop moving your hands, did he upset you?

✧ but when he realizes that you only stopped because you thought that it was making him uncomfortable, he immediately reassures you that he wasn't uncomfortable, only... confused.

✧ when you explain that you just wanted to give him a head pat (maybe as a reward for doing such a good job) he nods his head and speaks again. "you.. can continue if you want. i dont mind. just tell me next time, okay?"

✧ he knows that he made the right choice when he sees your eyes light up as you start to pat his head again. yanqing is slightly embarrassed when he sees that jing yuan notices what you're doing to him

✧ yan smiles awkwardly at jing and he's sweating BALLS because now the general, his master!! is seeing him in a situation that.. could make him be seen as vulnerable.

✧ he eventually stops you and apologizes, saying that he has to go do something (he really does) and that he doesn't mind if you pat his head next time, probably somewhere jing yuan doesn't frequent.

luocha 羅剎

✧ ah.. he expected you to do something like that. he doesn't really mind it, if anything he loves it! he smiles tenderly as he relaxes in your touch, sighing softly. "mm, i do enjoy this, why head pats all of the sudden?"

✧ when you explain that you just felt like it, he lets out a hum and nods his head. luocha continues doing what he was doing before, it was quite hard to concentrate, yes, but he didn't have the heart to stop you so..

✧ luocha likes receiving pda from you, mostly in private though, but as of right now you two are alone so he doesn't care what you do to him. and if you don't mind, maybe he could return the head pats (and more) as well?

✧ he actually enjoys the head pats, and he actually voiced it as well!! and when you tease him about it you notice a faint pink hue appear on his cheeks.. so cute..

✧ if you give him head pats out in public though, he might stop you if you go on for too long. but don't worry, he will allow you to do it for however long you want to once you two are home.

✧ he's so soft for you honestly, so expect head pats back. when you're done you turn away but suddenly he starts to pat your head back and you're just like ??? you're still and everything

✧ luocha chuckles softly at your reaction and smiled tenderly at you. "how cute of you, i must give you something in return, no?"

welt 瓦爾特

✧ ".... what are you doing..?"

✧ he's so confused i swear, staring at you dumbfounded and slightly annoyed when you pat his head. he lets out a huff and goes back to his activity. he could care less about what you're doing to him and doesn't mind what others think.

✧ welt is unbothered by you, allowing you to continue your head patting and you're glad that he's not that affected by your actions.

✧ welt glares at anybody who's giggling and pointing at you two. like, mind your own business.

✧ he looks like a grumpy dad and sighs sadly. "why... are you.. nevermind."

✧ you might think that he isn't enjoying it and he has to put up with you everyday, which, he does. but he is enjoying it. anything you do to him he absolutely loves and cherishes. you think he'll forget about the head pats? absolutely not, once you two go home he's asking you to massage and run your fingers through his hair after showering.

✧ "dearest, could i trouble you to do what you did to me earlier today, right now? i.. enjoyed it.."

sampo 桑博

✧ smiles like a mad man!! you're just so adorable.. how could he not?? sampo's smiling like crazy when u give him head pats <;33

✧ "oh? what's my little dove doing?" he says in a teasing tone (?? he likes teasing u hhh)

✧ his heart is beating so fast you can probably hear it if you were to lean in closer to his chest. not only that but he's B.L.U.S.H.I.N.G. face red like a tomato as you run your fingers through his hair.

✧ sampo will NEVER stop you from giving him affection (especially kisses and linking hands with you) so when you give him head pats he allows you to instead of stopping you.. and you're doing this in public too.. not that anything's wrong with that!!

✧ he pulls you in closer by your waist!! smirking as he hears you yelp from surprise. "what~ did that surprise you?"

✧ sampo could care less about the stares he gets from people/his friends, why should he be? everybody in the world should know about your relationship!

✧ please don't stop the head pats :(( he's literally begging you to not stop because its just so comforting to him ♡ if you do stop he won't pressure you to continue but he'll probably pout for a good 20 minutes before he finally smiles again when you kiss his cheek.

✧ he loves the head pats. so he hopes that you will continue giving him head pats in the future <;33

note: if you would like to be added to the honkai star rail taglist pls just ask me!! dont be shy &lt;3

taglist 🏷️ : none so far

liking + following + reblogs are very much appreciated!!

another note: first hsr post!!! also i got my glasses today and uhm i kinda hate it but yk what, my eyesight is so much better so...

REQUESTS ARE OPEN!!

[mad-hunts]

it was awfully random, in his opinion, but the urge to yawn suddenly hit barton after he pushed the glass over to jervis; his head dipping as he did so before he rose it up once more. god's, barton could not bring himself to hate anyone right now even if he tried. there was more than a bit of a 'floaty' feeling stuck in his brain now like honey. so, as you might imagine, the only look that barton was able to conjure up was a neutral one with a hint of something else lingering beneath the surface. maybe it had to do with the last remaining vestiges of humanity that he had left. and/or, that barton was simply expanding upon the quiet acknowledgement that he'd made already towards the other. it showcased that he knew jervis was in some sort of pain and it also wasn't easy for him to deal with it.

whatever the case might've been, when barton met jervis's own, they were arguably a lot less aggressive than they'd been before. it was probably the closest to soft that he was ever going to get in fact. imagine that, barton thought. a man who was once called a 'beautiful monster' by none other than the guy he was in an on-again and off-again relationship with making an attempt to console someone he barely knew. the comment made him want to punch laurent square in the face just as much as it did before regarding of it being a 'joke', of course. but now it had another connotation to it that he didn't realize before: that even his 'kindness' was cruel as monster's can't possibly be capable of doing anything even slightly good. but laurent was wrong about that. for, although barton certainly didn't think that what he'd just done was something so utterly significant that it would absolve himself of all the blood on his hands (especially since barton didn't think anything could at this point), there was nothing in this for him.

no reward. and barton didn't want one, either. he then banished all thoughts of that prick from his mind as one could definitely say that they were on the 'outs' right now. so, barton wasn't going to even grant laurent the pleasure of being on his mind any longer, pushing his plate to the side of himself. a light sigh slipped through barton's lips then. what others thought of him was not something he contemplated very often when it wasn't nightfall, in all honesty. however... some part of barton wondered what the news had taken to considering him to be. would they use a very blah way to describe the person who killed marty, like they're 'dangerous,' as he originally thought? or would they try to sensationalize it by calling them something akin to a 'psychopath?' it almost made him curious enough to turn on the TV, but they probably had enough to worry about with all these people who had phones on them. they were like mini computers now.

psychopath. he never did like that word very much. that's when barton was brought back to reality by jervis talking, but he honestly couldn't be sure whether it was to him. barton silently rose an eyebrow at him and just watched over the other briefly. now that he thought about it, he had seen him looking past him about one or two times during their conversations, as if jervis was privy to something that barton wasn't. he wasn't going to ask him about it because it simply wasn't his business but he had mentioned having ECT forced on him. which could theoretically be used to treat, and he says theoretically because the way they did it in arkham was all wrong, depression, catatonia, schizophrenia. things like that. barton put his head down on both his arms while they were on the counter. what a truly messed-up way to try to make them 'better,' like all of those quacks in the asylum were always phrasing it.

whenever jervis accepted the glass, barton in particular fixated on the accidental brushing of the scars he could feel on jervis's skin. he supposed so he didn't have to have his mind be quiet once more; a downturned smile ever-so-slightly tugging at barton's lips as he watched the other take a bite out of it. that's when he heard the sound of the door to the restaurant opening, and simultaneously, ravi had come out with another plate of his curry. ❝ here you go — ❞ he slowly put it down in front of barton before turning his head to look at who just came in with a surprised look on his face. barton was just about to himself, only for a very well-dressed matilda to lean her body to one side and say 'boo,' effectively scaring barton.

matilda couldn't help but laugh at that before barton murmured a soft, albeit not actually malicious sounding but playful instead, ❝ oh, my god, matilda. you know i love you but i hate you so much right now, ❞ ravi placed a hand on his shoulder and snorted slightly before saying, ❝ hey, be nice to your daughter, mister i-got-attacked-by-a-bear. and you better take his ass to the hospital or i'm hunting both of you down. ❞ the man left without another word, then, though matilda called after him, ❝ it was nice to see you too, ravi! now let me see this. oh, wow. it really does look like you got attacked by a bear. you didn't do this to him, did you? ❞ his daughter was now talking to jervis as she looked at him through narrowed eyes and did something to the wound to make barton protest. ❝ uhh, ow! and no, he didn't. he's obviously too much of a goody-goody to. ❞ barton stated sarcastically. he knew that, if jervis wanted to hurt him, it'd probably be in a much more... creative way now.

Jervis glanced at Barton through his lashes, mouth twitching at the corners. All of the condensed energy within his frame seemed to evaporate like spring dew with that simple gesture, the other man’s words hesitantly sprouting between them like leaves on an olive branch. A beat stretched. Jervis took another spoonful of his soup, chewed the chicken and rice, shut his eyes as the broth trickled down his throat.

At this moment, he was absolutely certain of two things. First, Jervis was touched - genuinely touched - at this second, seeming entirely unprompted act of kindness on Barton’s behalf. And then, a sense of dread begin to sink into the pit of his stomach, as he wondered why exactly Barton was offering him the falooda. What possible ulterior motives did he have this time? A flicker of tension began to rise in his jaw, but it soon snuffed itself out as his teeth accidentally misaligned in mid-bite around the spoon, digging into the callused tissue rimming the underside of his bottom lip. Jervis flinched, one hand immediately flying to his mouth to assess the damage.

It was nothing drastic by any means, no blood had been shed, but that one slip in self-control almost hurt worse. Whatever dregs of revulsion and irritation remained inside him melted, replaced by the familiar, sour notes of shame and self-reproach. Ahh, I deserved that one. Fair enough. After all, they had been stonewalling since they first stepped out of that transport van and into Jamie’s car. Surely, now that they had broken bread together, they could enjoy a temporary peace.

Whatever happened to the Golden Rule, Jervis? Is your hatred of the man so strong, it overrides everything else? He can’t wear the Dollmaker’s mask any longer than you can put on the Hatter’s mantle or pilfer Carroll. You’re both human, after all, not comic book villains. Besides, throwing the offer and the falooda in his face, however small the satisfaction may be, will only widen the chasm between you both. What you need right now is an ally, even if it’s circumstantial.

As if hearing his thoughts, Sylvie clicked her tongue, cocked her head thoughtfully as she looked at him over Barton’s shoulder; her mist-colored eyes sharp and cold as January sleet. “And here I thought I was the petty one between the two of us. What, are you going to spit at him? Pour the soup in his lap? Good; that’s fine. You piss him off, he has second-degree burns, what then? Do you really think that’s wise? Of course not, you’re not an idiot, and you’re not a cruel man. So, what the hell is wrong with you?”

“… it’s fine,” Jervis mumbled numbly, dropping his gaze. “You needn’t worry.” His hands shook, clammy beneath the black leather that encased them. He had no idea if he was speaking to Barton or to the shadowy thing just behind where he sat. “I’ve had… a lot on my mind, as you can probably tell. I lose my train of thought… things can sometimes go mad.” He raised his right hand, extended it to free the glove on the opposite side from where it had bunched around his knuckles once again, only to freeze. His skin crawled at the thought of exposure, but between the escape and the means of its procurement, the trip back to Gotham in Jamie’s car, the bathroom, and now here at this table… the gloves were positively soiled now. The filed edges of Barton’s nails caught the light. There was no way in hell he would’ve been allowed to grow them while he was legitimately practicing medicine…

“The ball’s in your court,” Sylvie drawled. “You’ve got the wolf by the ear, and you don’t even realize it.” The slightest hint of mockery colored the outlines of her words. Jervis’ ears burned. Goosebumps flared. She was getting closer now, her pale features hardening, all the color in her cheeks bleaching itself away, like paint receding from marble. “What’re you going to do about it? Can’t make an omelette without breaking a few eggs, isn’t that what you always told me? What would Alice think of you now?”

This wasn’t her. Not his wife. Not Sylvie, not the mother of their child, not the love of his life. Merely something dark and twisted inside him, something he didn’t want to acknowledge —something he was afraid to address, that that recognition would supersede all the positive traits within him, all the warmth and joy and optimism and kindness and the capacity for love —

His left hand mechanically clenched around his right, tore off the filthy glove. The bare appendage wrapped itself around the base of the proffered falooda glass as Barton hesitantly nudged it towards him. For the briefest of moments, the other man’s nails grazed against the old calluses and the web of scars and contusions marring Jervis’ skin. He raised his head, met Barton’s eyes; saw the earnestness there, the uncertainty, all bleeding together.

Jervis glanced back behind Barton. Sylvie — or whatever figment of his imagination or paranoia or only God knew had taken her face, her voice, her demeanor — had vanished. His heart sank. For just a moment, he wished she had remained there… even if, he rationalized, it wasn’t really her. Or had it been, after all? A peek behind the veils that separated them? The chill of the glass and the soft pink hue of its contents washed over him. He exhaled. Perhaps he didn’t want to know for certain, after all. If there truly was an afterlife… wouldn’t he know by now? Jervis flexed his fingers; took the spoon, scooped up a bite, and savored the falooda’s rich, creamy texture.

Truce.