#NOT AGAIN WE’RE NOT GOING BACK TO THE TRENCHES PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE-

[chestersbraincell]

In terrifed im so fucking scared. Doom impending. The fog is coming.

[thetriumphantpanda]

Eyes Wide Open | Joel Miller

The Checklist - Exhibitionism

Chapter Summary | You want people to watch you, Joel knows exactly how to help you with that.

Chapter Warnings | Are y'all bored of the porn without plot warning yet? Joel takes you to a sex club, public sex, exhibitionism, Joel gets cocky that people like looking at you getting fucked, unprotected PiV sex, fingering, dirty talk, pet names, aftercare, no use of y/n, no outbreak AU. Disclaimer that I've never been to a sex club so I have no idea if this is accurate, but we move. Please be kind.

Word Count | 3.5K

Pairing | Joel Miller x F!Reader

Authors Note | Shoutout to @hellishjoel for helping me work through the ideas for this one, and shoutout to my dreams for showing me exactly how it should play out. We're on the downhill stretch of the checklist now but it you're still enjoying this then reblogs and comments are always appreciated, and if you'd like to support me further, you can donate to my Ko-Fi.

A reminder that whilst this is part of a wider series, this can be read as a standalone if you wish.

Beautiful divider by @saradika

I no longer have a taglist, to keep up to date with my work, please follow @thetriumphantpandanotifs and turn on notifications.

Series Masterlist | Main Masterlist | Ko-Fi.

It’s a Friday night, not particularly late by the time you shut your computer down and sit back in the chair with a sigh. The door to your office clicks shut behind you as you walk through to the bedroom, intent on changing out of your work clothes and into something comfy, ordering pizza and spending the rest of the weekend attached to Joel’s side, but it seems like he’s got other ideas.

He’s sat on the edge of the bed, changed from his work clothes, but still looking casual in his jeans and a flannel, but sitting next to him, laid out so delicately on the sheets, is his favourite lingerie set of yours. Skimpy, all black see-through lace that leaves nothing to the imagination, and your trench coat sat next to him, and then your trusty pair of black heels on the floor. He’s smirking, but there’s an air of something nervous about him tonight, which you can tell from the bouncing of his leg and the way he runs his hand over his face.

“Change into this,” He says quickly, tone clipped as he stands, “I’ll wait downstairs.”

And then he’s gone, his heavy footfall giving him away as he walks down the stairs, leaving you a little dumbfounded. Your hands are already reaching to divest yourself of your clothes though, letting them fall into a pile at the end of the bed as you slip on the black lace. You don’t even bother to check yourself out in the mirror, you don’t care what you look like. All you know is that this little ensemble drives Joel wild, and that’s plenty for you, as you slip the black heels on and tie the coat around your waist with a knot.

Downstairs, Joel is pacing, something he rarely does unless he’s nervous. The keys to his truck are in his hand. He doesn’t even speak to you when he wrenches open the front door and motions with his hand for you to go outside. He doesn’t speak to you on the drive into town either. It’s not until he’s pulled up along a random street, outside of a nondescript building that he opens his mouth, but only when you question him.

“You wanna tell me why we’re sat outside some random building?”

He unbuckles his seatbelt and turns to you with a little sigh, “This seemed like a good idea at the time, but I ain’t sure you’re gonna like it.”

“Try me, Miller.”

Another sigh, “Well, I’ve been thinkin’ about that list again, about you wantin’ people to watch you, watch us, and this was the only thing I could think of,” You raise an eyebrow at him, “It’s a sex club.”

You can feel the smirk growing across your mouth, “Dare I ask how you found a sex club in Austin?”

He grumbles something incoherent which only adds to your amusement of the whole situation, “We don’t have to go in, I know it’s a lot,” He adds, hand finding your thigh under the split in your coat, “Say the words and I’ll drive us back home, unwrap you and fuck you until you can’t walk, it’s up to you baby.”

You take a moment to think, because there is the low bubble of anxiety settling in your stomach. Sure, the idea of someone watching you, admiring you as you get fucked, has always appealed to you. There’s no reasoning behind it, you don’t really know why, it’s just something you’ve always wanted to try. But that doesn’t make the thought of this any easier - it’s a club full of people who probably do this sort of thing all the time, people who have specific things they like to watch, maybe even specific people and what if you aren’t one of them? But, that warm palm on your thigh makes you feel safe, and even if no-one else watches you, he always does.

“Okay, let’s do it.”

You’re not sure what you were expecting from the inside of a sex club on the outskirts of downtown Austin, but it certainly wasn’t this. The inside is beautifully decorated, plush velvet seating, red drapes that section off certain parts of the club, a floor that isn’t sticky, but immaculately clean instead. You were expecting it to smell too, and it does, but not unpleasant in any way. There’s low music playing, and you can certainly hear some of the other people here already having fun, but it doesn’t embarrass you, only makes you more excited.

At the door, someone had explained how things work - there was no obligation to do anything, but if you did want to engage in anything sexual, you had to use one of alcoves that were curtained off. If you wanted people to watch, leave one of the curtains open, and if you wanted them to join in, all you had to do was invite them to do so, but otherwise, they had to watch, and none of them could get themselves off whilst they watched either - the woman explained there were areas to do that elsewhere.

Joel has a hand on your lower back, guiding you over to the bar - strictly no alcohol for obvious reasons - but the bartender makes you a very nice virgin sex on the beach, which is ironic. Joel sips on a 0% beer as you stand and wait to see who makes the first move. You sit and look around, letting the sounds of other women’s pleasure fill your ears, looking at the other couples who are doing much the same as you and Joel are, apart from the fact that you can’t see any of them secretly trying to rub their thighs together for a little relief.

There’s a moment, a little while later, when one of the sets of curtains is pulled back, and a woman, hand-in-hand with a man, walk out, attached at the hip, looking sweaty and sated. You take hold of Joel’s hand, leaving your half finished drink on the bar, and drag him behind the curtain before anyone else has a chance to take it.

“Keen, are we?” He chuckles, watching closely as you close both curtains behind you for now, turning to him.

“Kiss me.”

He walks over to you, lips pressing gently to yours as his hands take hold of the belt keeping your coat together, hands pulling at the knot to undo it, his palms pushing it from your shoulders to leave you standing in just your underwear.

“You want me to open the curtain?” He asks softly against your mouth.

You nod, trying to chase his mouth as he pulls away a little.

“Words, baby,” He says, “Use them.”

You snake your hand around his neck, pulling him back down to your mouth, “Open it,” You demand, “Let them see.”

Letting him go, you walk slowly over to the couch near the back of the room, sitting down on it, crossing one leg over the other as Joel pulls back one side of the curtain. He turns, walking back toward you as he takes off his shirt, unbuckles his belt and leaves both on the floor with your coat. He gently takes hold of your hand, pulling a little to get you to stand up.

Joel settles on the couch, right where you had been sitting before, widening his legs, tapping the material between them for you to sit, which you do, facing the open curtain as you sit between his thighs.

He splays one hand across the naked skin of your tummy, pulling you closer into him, the bulge in the front of his jeans resting against your lower back, the other cradling the side of your face opposite where his lips are currently tracing down your neck and over your shoulder. You close your eyes, let out a soft sigh of pleasure, as your head tips back against his shoulder.

When you open your eyes, there's a jolt of surprise when you see a few people already standing near the open curtain, already watching you. They’re almost casual with it, stood with their arms crossed or leaning against the wall as Joel trails his hand from your tummy to your thigh, widening his own as he pulls yours further apart.

“They’re looking, Joel.” You whisper softly.

“I know, baby,” He coos into your ear, “Shall we give them a show?”

“Yes please.”

It’s all the encouragement he needs, both of his hands coming around your body to cup your tits through the material of your bra, squeezing gently as his teeth start nipping at the skin of your neck.

“Think we should show them how perfect your tits are?” He whispers, fingers dragging up to the straps to slip them off your shoulders, before he pulls the cups down, settling them under your tits to show them off.

Almost like he knows he’s showing you off, parading you in front of people, he brings his palms to the sides of your breasts, pushes them together as your nipples peak stiff in the cool air of the room.

“I think they like you, honey,” Joel’s voice is in your ear again, “Look how many people want to watch you.”

And he’s right, there are a few more bodies that have joined the small crowd that are watching you, as Joel’s hands cup the weight of your tits, his fingers rolling your nipples, drawing a gasp from your mouth as Joel’s hips rock into your back, hard cock digging into your skin, obviously just as affected by by people watching as you are.

“Joel,” You whine, “I need to you touch me.”

“I am touchin’ you, baby,” He chuckles, “You want my hands somewhere else?”

“Please.”

“Given them your tits, now you wanna show them your pussy?”

“Joel, please.”

His hand moves slowly down the bare skin of your tummy and over the lace of your panties, fingers hovering where he knows you’ll be wet, even you can feel the damp material sticking to you. He hooks one of his fingers into the side of your panties, running it over your slick folds a few times as your hands settle on his denim-clad thighs, fingers digging into them as he gently pulls your panties to the side, exposing your core to the people in front of you.

You can hear hums of approval, some people suck in their breath and it makes you preen. Yes, you think, fucking gasp at me, I'm a goddess and look at what this man does to me. Joel’s palm cups your pussy for a moment, his lips still working softly across your neck and shoulder, the roughness of his beard and the way his teeth nip at you sure to leave marks for days.

Then, he drags his palm up, using two of his fingers to spread the folds of your pussy, really showing you off to everyone in front of you. For the first time, you really look at the crowd, there’s not many, many seven or eight people, all stood with their eyes trained on the most intimate part of you, watching as your cunt glistens and flutters around nothing.

“You know what they’re thinking?” Joel asks, his other palm pulling your thighs apart even more, one finger dipping into your slick cunt, dragging the wetness up so he can circle your clit, “They’re thinking this is the prettiest pussy they’ve ever seen.”

He’s got one hand pressed to your belly, dragging you back against him, the other working those tight, precise circles over your clit. Normally, in the privacy of your own home, he’d take his time, but here, any ounce of patience he has is gone. He wants them to see you, wants to know the beauty he gets all to himself, the pussy he gets to do with as he pleases, and most of all, he wants them to know how he makes you cum, almost like he’s proving himself to these strangers. Look at me, look at the man I am, look how well I know this woman’s body and how quickly I can get her off.

It’s all an intoxicating cocktail that has you hurtling towards the finish line in no time. Your head is tipped back against his shoulder again, back arched and hips rocking in time to the movements of his hand, but your eyes are trained on the people in front of you, flitting from face to face as they watch the way your legs start to shake, the way you can clearly see from the front of their trousers how much this turns them on.

“You gonna show them how pretty you are when you come, baby?” Joel asks, hand abandoning your stomach in preference for wrapping around your throat, he doesn’t squeeze, just holds you there, anchors you to his body as his finger circles one, twice, three times more and throws you over the edge.

Fingers still gripping at his thighs, you cry out, moaning his name as his finger slows a little against you but never stops, “Yeah, that’s it baby,” Joel encourages, “Let it all out for them.”

When you open your eyes, coming down from the high, body warm with pleasure, shaking as Joel’s fingers sink inside you, not to get you off again, but to make sure you’re ready for him, a few more people have joined the crowd now, clearly hearing your cries of pleasure and wanting to know exactly what the fuss was about. Well, you’ve joined just in time, you think, as Joel manipulates you onto your back, leaning back a little to undo his jeans, but not bothering to stand enough to completely take them off, just pushing them down enough to free his cock.

Whilst he fists himself, hand at the base of his cock, you tilt your head towards the people watching you. You’re not stupid enough to imagine they’re all here for you, there are three women dotted in the crowd, and whilst you can never be sure, much like you aren't sure about the men either, you’d like to think some of them are here for Joel, admiring the broadness of him, the thickness of his cock, wondering, imagining they get the opportunity to feel him doing exactly what he does next, which is to sink his cock slowly into your aching cunt.

You’ve spread your legs as wide as you can manage, palms on the underside of your thighs to hold yourself open to Joel as one of his hands props him up next to your head, the other pushing the leg closest to the crowd down, so your aren’t covering what they’re here to see the most.

He drags his cock out of you, almost fully, before he slams his hips back into yours. Your tits bounce with the force, a surprised yelp leaving your mouth, but God it feels good. You’re looking at each other, Joel’s intense brown eyes looking down at your face, your mouth dropped open in pleasure as he sets the pace, drawing gasps and whines from you each time he pushes his cock back into you.

Letting go of your leg once he’s sure you’re in a position where everyone can watch the way his cock is stretching your cunt, he takes hold of your face in his hand, fingers pressing into the soft skin of your cheeks which makes your lips purse a little. He drags your face away from looking at his own, one cheek laying against the material of the couch, looking at the crowd, you catch one man run a palm over the bulge in his jeans whilst he looks you dead in the eye, but it doesn’t make you feel uncomfortable, it makes you feel powerful.

You can feel Joel’s nose nuzzling at your other cheek, lips pressed to the sweaty skin, “Look at them, baby,” He demands, “All of them watching you get fucked, you like that?”

All you can manage with his hand on your face is a ‘Mmmhmm’.

“I know you like it,” He breathes, “Know how I can tell?” It’s rhetorical, of course it is, “You’re squeezin’ me so fucking tight, baby, and you’re drippin’, so turned on by all these people who wanna fuck you, huh?”

It’s another ‘mmmhmm’ that he gets in response, but your hips are moving up to meet his now, letting the tip of his cock brush so deep inside of you that you see stars.

“What do you think they want to see most?” He asks, breathless in your ear, “Do you think they want to see me fill you up?” But you shake your head in his hand, “No, you’re right baby,” He agrees, “I think they want to see me cover you, paint my cum all over you.”

You know he’s not going to last much longer. You know him, and you know his signs. The way he gets more vocal in your ear, groaning and panting, and the way his thrusts get heavier, sloppier. You know it, he knows it, and the gaggle of eyes on you mean you’re both hanging on for dear life, Joel trying to hold himself back, wanting just one more from you.

Snaking a hand between your body, you circle your own clit, slick and wet and sensitive from earlier as he finally lets go of your face, holds himself up on both him palms planted on either side of your head, hips slamming into yours, lewd smacking of skin and your combined breathless pants the only thing people can hear over the sounds of whatever other people are doing outside of here.

“That’s it baby,” He encourages lightly, “God, you’re fuckin’ perfect around me, make yourself come and then I’ll give you what you want.”

Like magic, you do, body arching up into his, legs hooking around his lower back as you come for him, moaning his name, looking at only him now as he sucks his bottom lip in between his teeth.

“Hold your legs open baby,” He asks, “Gonna give you what you want, okay?”

You’re boneless, palms pressing against your knees to keep you open as Joel slips his cock from your warmth, one hand furiously fisting at himself, the other keeping his body weight off you. You feel the first rope of warmth hit your stomach before he tosses his head back, calls your name out to the ceiling as he covers you in him. Pools of thick, white seed land across your skin as his hand milks every last drop from his cock, the two of you just watch each other for a moment, the only sounds you can hear are you own breath sucking into your lungs and the sounds of what other people are doing outside of your little oasis.

“You okay?” Joel asks softly, leaning forward to press his warm lips to your forehead.

“I’m good,” You smile, “Really good.”

“Yeah?” He asks, almost surprised as he sits back on his knees, tucking himself back into his jeans.

You run your fingernails over his lower belly, scratching gently as you look at him, “I really liked that.”

When you turn your head a little, the people who had been watching you are already gone, onto the next show, the curtain pulled together to give you both a little privacy. Joel stands, finds a box of tissues on the table next to the couch which he uses to clean you up.

“Did you like it?” You ask, as he readjusts the lace of your under, covering you up.

“Yeah, I did,” He smiles, face cupped in his hands to kiss you, “Liked that they could watch, see how perfect you are, but that you’re only mine.”

You snake your arms around his shoulders, kissing him again, “Can we do this again?” You ask, biting at your lip, almost shy to ask for it.

“Yeah baby,” He smiles, keeping you as close to him as he can as he reaches for his clothes, “You wanna come back here?”

You nod, letting Joel slip your coat back onto you, watching as he ties the knot tight, making sure no-one’s going to see you as you leave, as if some of them hadn’t just watch him rail you to within an inch of your life.

Joel presses a kiss to the tip of your nose as he takes your hand in his, “I’ll bring you back,” He promises, pulling the curtain out of the way so you can make your way on shaky legs out of the club, “But right now, I’m gonna take you home, and we’re going to get in the bath, okay?”

“Okay,” You nod, “Take me home, cowboy.”

[stevie-petey]

episode five: the flea and the acrobat

“Steve, what-” He pushes past you in a frenzied hurry to get to his car, but you grab his jacket and force him to stop. “Answer me! Is Nancy okay? Was Jonathan with her?” Steve whips around and sneers at you. “Why do you even care about them? About him?” “Because we’re friends,” you say, and for the first time you really mean it. Nancy has become someone you’d call a friend.  Another cruel laugh escapes Steve’s lips. “Friends, huh? Yeah, those two looked real fucking cozy in her bed.”

Summary: you and dustin have a long overdue Sibling Moment, at will's funeral you and jonathan exchange information and surprise ! it's all horrible news ! nancy has awful timing and when you leave her alone with jonathan one damn time you and steve end up trauma bonded on her front porch #bffs.

Rating: general, though there's the use of guns in here for plot point sake, as well as cursing

Warnings: use of guns, cursing, fem!reader, and use of y/n.

Words: 14.4k (whew)

Before you swing in: i'm back gang ! fall semester is almost done and i am in the trenches, so i leave y'all with this monster of a chapter before hell week (i have three finals in one day next week, no i don't want to talk about it). please enjoy this beauty, i had so much fun messing with character relationships in this and it was very ;)

-

With how many times you’ve knocked on the Wheeler’s door this week, you’d think that Mrs. Wheeler would stop looking so surprised when she answers. 

“Y/N?”

You give the woman a small smile. “Hi, Mrs. Wheeler. Is, uh, Mike home?”

“Yes… he stayed home today because of Will. Is there something you need?” The usually friendly woman seems beaten down from this week’s events as well, which you’re understanding of. 

“I was wondering if I could come in and see how he’s doing? Dustin is really shaken up about it, so I figured…” You shrug, trying to come across as a concerned older sister figure rather than a worried and horrible babysitter who should really retire. 

Mrs. Wheeler places a hand over her heart. “Oh, Y/N. You’ve always been so good with the boys, of course you can check on him. It means a lot that you care.”

Oh, no problem, but if we’re being honest I’m here because I’m scared I accidentally let your son get involved with the supernatural and dangerous monster men thingies that I honestly can’t wrap my head around!

Of course you can’t tell the woman this, so instead you thank her and let yourself in. Immediately you head towards the basement and fling the door open. You like Mrs. Wheeler, but the amount of times her son has snuck out of the house without her noticing honestly concerns you, so you’re a bit unsure if Mike even is home.

You get deja-vu from a few days ago as you head down the basement steps, once again hearing the three boys panicking as they try to hide El. Unlike last time, which had only annoyed you, seeing them scramble to hide the girl makes you relieved. 

They’re here, alive and well. You’d let Steve distract you from your worrying on the drive over, so the relief hits you like a damn truck. 

“Oh god not again!” Dustin groans when he sees you, worried that he’s once again going to get yelled at for being at the Wheeler’s with El. 

You ignore his theatrics and walk over to the girl, who is laying face down on the couch. You notice that she’s dressed in one of Nancy’s old costumes and a blonde wig that suits her well. What the hell did the kids get up to today? 

“Do I want to know why El is dressed like a doll and almost passed out on the couch?” 

“That depends on if you’re going to yell at us again,” Mike says. 

You shoot him a glare, but you guess he has a point. The last few times you’ve been with the kids you’ve ended up yelling at them one way or another. You feel bad about that, but then again: they won’t stop getting into trouble. 

El manages to raise her head from the couch, “Hi, Y/N.”

“Hi, sweetie,” you approach the couch and gently nudge her to the side so that you can sit down and place her head on your lap. She nuzzles into your warmth and lets out a sleepy sigh. “And to answer your question, Mike: I’m not here to yell at you guys. I just… Please tell me what’s been going on. I know I haven’t been here for you guys like I should’ve, but-”

“Your boyfriend needed you more,” Mike quips, though there’s some resentment in his voice that causes you to feel even worse.

Dustin hits his shoulder against the boy. “He isn’t her boyfriend, but she couldn’t just abandon him; he needed her. Besides, we have been sneaking off without telling her anything.” 

You cast an appreciative smile at your brother, thankful that even though he’s a pain in your ass, he always has your back like you do his. It’s something he’s always done with you and Mike; being so similar, you and him are constantly butting heads, yet Dustin has always been the first to defend you against his friend (even if you’ve never needed it in the first place). 

“I’m sorry, okay? I messed up, but I’m here now and I really, really need to know if I’m being paranoid. What mess did you dweebs manage to get into?”

The three boys suddenly can’t look at you. Their heads turn in different directions, Lucas scratches the back of his neck, Mike kicks at a board piece on the ground, and Dustin whistles a tune. 

Your shoulders slump. “Is it that bad?”

“It started this morning,” 

“Lucas!”

“Mike, she could help us! The weirdo clearly likes her,” he gestures over to El practically asleep in your lap, “plus, she’s the only sane one left in this group. I need backup.” 

“Backup?” You ask. 

Mike throws his head back in annoyance and lets out a groan as if he’s dying. Truly, this kid is the most dramatic person you’ve ever met. “Fine, we’ll tell you everything if you agree to stop hounding us for sneaking around. Will is missing, he’s our friend, and no one in the party gets left behind.”

You think this over for a moment, weighing the pros and cons in your head. “I will agree to those terms if you guys agree to keep me updated on everything at all times.” 

The boys try to argue, but you don’t let them. 

“I mean it, another person is missing. Nancy’s friend, Barb, was in the same woods that Will was, the same woods that you guys keep insisting on trekking through without supervision. This is serious, guys. Whatever, or whoever, is out there… it’s dangerous, and I-” You swallow down some tears that claw against your throat. “I can’t lose anyone else, okay?” 

The mood in the room is solemn, the three boys silent as your words hang in the air. Naturally, you try to lighten things up. “I’ll deny this if anyone asks, but unfortunately I love you boys.” 

As expected, they immediately begin to gag and pretend that they’ve been impaled with something as they all scream “ew” and “yuck” at your words. You laugh, which causes El to laugh as well, and for a moment it feels like nothing has changed. 

“So?” You ask after the boys have finished their gross theatrics. 

Dustin is the one who makes the decision for them. “We promise to keep you updated, for real this time.” 

“Good, now again I ask: why is El dressed like a doll and half asleep on my lap as we speak?” 

Lucas, Dustin, and Mike begin to talk all at once. 

“Mike radioed for me to head over, claiming he heard Will on the walkie.”

“Yeah, and then they radioed me to join. Sorry, by the way. I would’ve woken you up, but you and Jonathan looked so cozy in your bed so-”

“I thought you said they weren’t dating?”

“Not now, Mike.”

It continues like this for a while as they explain everything they did today. Sneaking El into the school, having to to talk to Mr. Clark, attending the assembly for Will, Mike fighting some idiotic kids for making fun of him before El made the head bully pee himself. 

You look down at the girl in your lap. “You can really make people pee themselves?”

“Sometimes,” she shrugs. 

“Lovely.” 

“That’s what you focus on, Y/N?” Mike asks you, and you simply shrug your shoulders in response. Sue you for still having doubts about Will being alive, you’ve gotten your hopes up one too many times. 

“Are you suggesting I believe that you heard Will through your cheap little walkies?” 

Dustin puts his head in his hands in defeat while Lucas gestures over to you. “See, she’s the sane backup I need.” 

Mike groans at you once more. “No, that’s why we snuck El into the radio room and used the heathkit that Mr. Clark got us. Keep up!”

“What, did you tell the guy that El was a new student?” 

“Don’t be stupid, we told Mr. Clark that she’s my cousin.” 

“Uhh, Y/N,” Dustin laughs nervously, motioning for you to stop talking. “You promised you’d be cool about everything if we told you.”

Knowing that your brother is right, you deflate a bit against the couch and start playing with El’s hair. “I am being cool, I just have so many questions.”

“Oh, just wait.” Lucas snorts. 

Mike now crosses the room to stand in front of you, as if he’s gearing up to tell you some major news. “We heard Will on the heathkit. El, she managed to use her powers to communicate with him.”

Like always, the seriousness in his voice concerns yet intrigues you. “Lucas, do you really believe that it was Will?”

The boy nods at you, his face grim. You don’t like how scared he looks, because out of the entire group he’s the one who is always the most reasonable. If he’s willingly telling you that he thinks it was Will, then you have to start taking the situation at hand seriously. 

“Okay, tell me exactly what you guys heard.”

And they do. One by one they tell you about Will’s pleading for his mom, telling her that it’s like home but cold and dark, the banging that followed after his words, how El had used so much of her energy trying to maintain the communication before the radio caught fire and she was too exhausted to do much else. 

“So, you believe us now?” Mike asks after you’re silent for a moment. 

You look down at the girl in your lap, in awe that someone so small and shy could hold so much power. This time you believe what the boys tell you without much conviction. Now that you know that Barb is missing as well, lost in the same woods as Will, the same woods where you found El, the photos from Nancy and the figure she claims she saw… It’s all starting to come together. 

You’re not sure exactly what you’re caught up in, but you know it’s too late to back out. Whatever is going on, whatever thing took Will and transported him to some unknown place with possibly the same powers that El has, you know it’s your responsibility to handle it. 

“Yes,” you respond, and the boys all sigh with relief. “Just one question though,”

Dustin sighs. “Yes, Y/N?”

“How did it take you guys so long to set fire to the school? Honestly, Jonathan and I thought it’d happen sooner.” 

“You’re hilarious.” Mike deadpans, which only causes you and El to giggle together again. 

“I hate to ruin the good mood, but we seriously need to figure out what Will meant when he said that wherever he is ‘is like home’.” Your brother interrupts. 

Mike spins to face him. “He said, ‘like home, but dark’, right?”

“And ‘empty’.” Lucas adds. 

“‘Empty’ and ‘cold’. Wait, did he say cold?” Dustin asks the group.

You nod your head. “You mentioned cold earlier.”

Lucas throws his hands up in the air in frustration. “The stupid radio kept going in and out!” 

“It’s like riddles in the dark…” Your brother sighs, which you hum in agreement to. 

Will’s words were pretty vague, but you wish you had been there at the middle school as well. Maybe if you had heard the tone of Will’s voice, you’d be of more help.

Mike continues to mumble about “like home” and “dark” for a few more seconds, now pacing around the room. You watch from the couch, El still resting with her head in your lap, and as you’re playing with her hair she finally speaks up after having been silent for a while. 

“Upside down.”

“What’d she say?” Lucas asks.

“Upside down? I guess?” Is all you can tell him. 

“What?” 

While you, Dustin, and Lucas are confused by El’s words, Mike rushes over to the forgotten board from a few days ago and sits down. He frantically flips it over and motions for you to come and join him. You hesitate for a second, but he only doubles down on his waving you over, so you gently lift El’s head up and walk over. 

“God, took you long enough.”

“I was literally three feet away from you on the couch, why did I have to move?”

Mike ignores your question and begins to explain the thirty million thoughts flying through his head at the moment, “When El showed us where Will was, she flipped the board over, remember?” 

You nod, slowly understanding where he’s going with this. “She flipped it upside down.”

“Exactly! Dark. Empty.” 

Lucas looks over at you and Dustin, unamused. “Do you understand what he’s talking about?”

“No,” your brother says at the same time as you saying “the upside down part? Yes. The dark and empty part? No.”

Mike tries to explain further. “Guys, come on, think about it. When El took us to find Will, she took us to his house, right?” 

“You mean last night when they found Will’s body in the water?” You ask, not really understanding where Mike is going with all this. 

“Like Y/N said, he wasn’t there.” Lucas reminds everyone, but Mike still tries to get his point across.

“But what if he was there? What if we just couldn’t see him, what if he was on the other side?”

You think about Jonathan’s words from earlier today in the car while on the way to the funeral home, trying to calm down from his fight with his mom. He had told you about how Joyce was convinced that Will was in the walls within their home, that the body they saw in the morgue hadn’t been his. 

“Hold on,” you interrupt Mike, “you guys said that there was some, like, banging where Will was, right? And that he had been begging his mom to come get him?” 

“Yeah, it was like some sick sci-fi movie!” 

You glare at your brother. “Ignoring you. Anyways, did you guys hear Mrs. Byers on the radio as well?” 

Mike shakes his head. “No, all we could hear was the banging and something... Growling, I guess.”

Knowing Joyce, you’d bet money that the banging had been her. You know that the next time you go over to their house, the walls might actually be destroyed, but she’d been right all along. Will is alive, he has to be. The pieces that you’ve slowly been collecting this past week fall together one by one. 

“That explains the walls and the weird monster thing in Jonathan’s picture,” you mumble to yourself, but Lucas hears you. 

“Do I wanna know?”

You purse your lips. “Let’s focus on figuring out where Will is, then I’ll tell you guys what I’ve been up to this week.” 

“Okay, so,” Mike begins again, now grabbing the board game and flipping it onto its normal, light side. “What if this is Hawkins,” he flips it upside down onto its dark side, “and this is where Will is?” 

“The Upside Down.” You finish for him. 

“The Upside Down.” Mike confirms. 

Slowly Dustin follows along. “Like the Vale of Shadows.”

Somehow you always end up the one confused when it comes to these damn kids. “The Vale of Shadows? What the hell is that?”

Dustin runs over to the bookshelf and pulls out a thick binder full of paper, but as he flips through it you realize it’s a rulebook for Dungeons and Dragons. He lands on the page he’s looking for, and you feel your shoulders drop. Great. More confusing terminology ahead. 

“‘The Vale of Shadows’,” he begins to read, “‘is a dimension that is a dark reflection or echo of our world. It is a place of decay and death. A plane out of phase. A place of monsters’.”

“Wait, didn’t you say something about a monster, Y/N?” Lucas asks, but you shush him so you don't miss whatever else Dustin will say next. 

“‘It is right next to you, and you don’t even see it’.” He finishes. 

His words hang in the air for a moment, but Mike, always somehow three steps ahead, pieces it together. “An alternate dimension.” 

Lucas finally accepts what’s happening. “But how do we get there?” 

“I’m sorry, we?” You look between all three boys, their faces still young and holding the childish innocence that you once had yourself. “No, there’s no ‘we’ in this. I may not know much about alternate dimensions, but there’s no way I’m letting you guys try to find and go to one.”

Mike rolls his eyes at you. “Well what choice do we have? Do you want to tell that mean police chief about this?”

“I…well… I mean-no.” You sink down in the seat, annoyed that Mike is right. No way Hopper believes any of this, you hardly believe any of it. 

“Can we cast shadow walk?” Dustin focuses back on the conversation at hand.

You don’t bother to ask what that means. 

“In real life, dummy.” Lucas reminds him. 

“We can’t shadow walk, but…” Your brother’s eyes land on El, who is still laying on the couch, silent and unmoving. “Maybe she can.”

The four of you turn towards the girl, and Mike voices his own question. “Do you know how we get there? To the Upside Down?”

El meets your eyes, and you can see that she’s hesitant about something. She’s been quieter than usual, almost suspiciously so, and you know that the more Mike figures things out, the more hesitant she becomes. She shakes her head at you, and you give her a sad smile. 

Lucas flings his head back and groans. “Oh my god!”

Mike and Dustin seem to be thinking the same thing, disappointed by El’s lack of help. You don’t blame them, also frustrated by the fact that it feels like you guys are so close to discovering something big. You can feel hope reignite in your chest; you haven’t been this close to an explanation about Will all week. This has to be it. It’s the only way you can explain everything that’s been happening lately. 

Speaking of which:

“Remember how I mentioned Barb and a possible monster?” 

You tell them everything, about Jonathan’s worry for his mom, how their phone got charred by lightning, Hopper’s theory that Will had been running from something, Nancy and Barb attending Steve’s party and how Barb had been on her own near the woods. You tell them about how Barb has been missing ever since and the photos Jonathan took (leaving out the horrible ones of Nancy) that Nancy brought to your attention at the funeral home. The figure in the background, looming over Barb, how it didn’t seem to have a face.

Then you tell them about Joyce and her spiral, though now you know she actually wasn’t crazy. You tell them about the Christmas lights and Will communicating with her through them. How she claimed that she could hear him through the wall and that the body in the quarry hadn’t been him. 

When you’re finally done catching them up, they stare at you with their jaws open. 

“Dustin,” Mike says, “remind me to never leave your sister out ever again.”

“Noted.” 

– 

The events from the day had left El exhausted and she refuses to say anything else after you explain everything to the boys. Her eyes droop while Mike interrogates you for answers you can’t give him, so finally you take pity on the poor girl and tell him that you’ll talk more in the morning. 

Mike isn’t too happy about being shut down, but when you point towards a half asleep El he reluctantly gives in. “Fine, but as soon as the funeral is over we’re discussing this further.”

Right. Will’s funeral is tomorrow. 

“Yeah, sure,” you tuck your hair behind your ears and motion over to Dustin. “We need to go, it’s late and mom will be wondering where we are.” 

He tries to argue with you but you just gather your things and head for the stairs. There’s still a lot you need to think about and a million things you need to sort before the funeral tomorrow. Did Jonathan even buy the coffin? Who had made the arrangements after you and him left the funeral home with Nancy?

There’s a lot you need to talk about when you call him tonight. 

The bike ride home with Lucas and Dustin is a quiet one, both boys understanding that you need some time to think about everything you learned tonight. 

You make a list in your head of what you do know, but it’s a frustratingly short list. 

1) El, one way or another, has powers that enable her to communicate with Will in some weird upside down universe that you can’t actually get to (can you even count this as something you know?)

2) Hopper was right: Will went missing because he was running from something (probably the same faceless thing that’s in Jonathan’s photo). 

3) Whatever took Will also took Barb, bringing Nancy into this wonderfully confusing mess (you still don’t know if her involvement is a good or bad thing). 

Everything else? You have no fucking clue what’s going on. 

When you get home with Dustin, it’s late; the two of you have to sneak past your mom, who fell asleep with Mews on her lap in the living room. Dustin heads straight for his room but you stop him, motioning for him to come into yours for a second. 

“What-”

“Shh!” You quickly shut your door to ensure that your mom won’t hear anything. 

Dustin groans. “I thought you said you weren’t gonna yell at me?”

You roll your eyes at him. “I yell at you guys twice after years of patience, now suddenly I’m a screaming monster,” he doesn’t say anything and flings himself onto the bean bag by your bed. “Anyways, we’re long overdue for a code blue.” 

Your brother shoots up from the bean bag, eyes wide. “No.”

“Yes,” you join him on the bean bag. “Code blue time, we’re going to talk about our feelings after the hellish week we’ve had. C’mon, you know the drill.” 

Code blue was something the two of you came up with when your dad left. You had been twelve when it happened, Dustin had been nine. It’d been a really rough few months for you guys, dealing with the betrayal of your dad while also moving away from your hometown in Virginia all within a year. Neither of you had adjusted well to the sudden changes, and though you were angry and bitter about what had happened, the moment you saw that it was affecting your brother you decided to implement code blue. 

It’s simple, really. Whoever calls for a code blue gets to talk about or ask whatever they want while the other is required to answer. Originally it was so that you could force Dustin into telling you his feelings, but over the years it’s become a way to bond with each other and know that no matter what you’ll be there for one another. No half truths or a vague “I’m fine”; it’s a time for you guys to be vulnerable with one another without using it as leverage against the other. 

Dustin plops his head back down. “Fine, but I’m tired so can this be quick?”

“Hey, no complaining during code blue. That’s like, rule number one.” 

“Y/N.” His tone is one of annoyance and you know that if you don’t start talking soon then you’ll lose his interest.

“Right, sorry. Okay,” you clear your throat and face your brother. “Today’s code blue topic is this: I’m worried about you getting your hopes up about Will. We don’t know that he’s alive just yet.” 

As expected, Dustin is unhappy with what you’ve said. “We do know that he’s alive, I heard him on the heathkit. He’s alive, Y/N.” He sees the uncertainty on your face and doubles down on what he’s saying. “He is.”

You bite your lip, scared that you’ll say the wrong thing. “Dustin, nothing is certain. Even though we’re definitely onto something, and while I believe that you heard Will on the radio, that doesn’t change the fact that there’s something else out there that wants to hurt him. I mean, he’s trapped in some weird alternate dimension that we have no idea how to even get into. I just… I don’t want to see you get hurt again.”

You think about the way your brother’s face fell when they pulled Will’s body out of the water. How the hope that had been in his eyes immediately died alongside his childhood naivety. He had built all of his hope upon a shaky foundation; the moment it collapsed he fell apart. 

“Look I know you’re trying to look out for me, but Will is a part of the party. He’s our friend, we can’t just lose hope and leave him behind. He needs us.” Dustin speaks with so much certainty and an aura of maturity that almost makes you forget that he’s twelve. 

“I’m not saying it’s dangerous to have hope, but I need you to promise me that you’ll protect yourself from whatever happens next. How’s that sound?”

Dustin thinks for a moment, tapping a finger against his chin. “Hmm, I think I can make that deal if you promise the same thing. I mean, c’mon, it’s obvious that you’re the sensitive one out of the two of us. You and hope? Doomed.” 

You laugh, knowing he’s right. You’ve always been branded by hope; hopeful for love, for dreams, and for those who may not always deserve it. You and hope haven’t always gotten along, but she’s become a familiar friend. 

“I think you’ve got yourself a deal. Now, it’s late and I have to call Jonathan and catch him up on everything, so let’s conclude code blue with its mandatory hug.” 

“Woah woah woah, I don’t think we gotta-”

Dustin’s words become muffled as you throw yourself on top of him and squish him into a hug. He squirms against you for a second, claiming he can’t breathe, but you shush him and force him to accept the hug. Though you won’t ever tell him this, losing Will has only made you more appreciative of having a wonderfully annoying little brother. 

After code blue, Dustin goes to his room claiming that “alternate dimensions are super draining”, and before he leaves you tell him to be ready tomorrow by nine for the funeral and that your mom will take him. You’ll be at the Byers’ helping Jonathan. 

Once he’s gone you give yourself a few moments to sit in silence, letting the events from today settle over you. It seems like all you’ve felt this week is exhaustion and hurt and at the rate everything is going, there’s no telling how long you’ll feel this way. 

The moment you’re done wallowing you roll off the bean bag and walk over to your desk to call Jonathan. You’re honestly not sure what you’ll even tell him tonight, there’s no way you’ll be able to cover everything before the night ends. The two of you have a long day tomorrow, so you figure you’ll have to make do with the limited time you have and summarize. 

Jonathan answers after a few rings. “How’d your little secret mission go?”

You make a face. “Is it even a secret mission if I told you I was going on it?”

“It is if you refuse to tell me what you did during it.” 

“Touché, bee.” 

He laughs, which sends a cascading warmth throughout your body. You can envision him perfectly on the other end of the line, leaning against his kitchen wall with the phone wire wrapped around his finger as he absent mindedly fiddles with it while he talks to you. 

You clear your throat and shake the thought from your mind, you called him for a reason. “Anyways… we need to talk.”

Jonathan is silent for a moment and you can feel the playfulness fade away. “Yeah, you first though. You already know what Nance and I were up to.” 

Nance?

Awesome. Cool. Totally not going to be consumed by that later. 

“Right. Uh, well. I went looking for Dustin because the other night when I was with the boys we stumbled upon this, well, this little girl.” 

“A girl?”

“Yeah, she’s bald.”

“Okay… is that important or…?”

“Unsure, but it felt important to tell you. Sorry,” you take a deep breath, “I’m not sure why I’m so nervous right now.”

“It’s okay, bug. It’s me, you can tell me anything.” 

No I can’t.

“Sure, yeah, totally. Um, so anyways we found her, her name is El, and she’s our only connection to Will right now.”

A beat of silence. “What do you mean?”

“Well, she kinda has… powers?”

“Powers,”

“Powers.”

You hear Jonathan sigh on the other end of the call. “Bug, you’re not seriously telling me that the boys have somehow dragged you into one of their little schemes, right?”

Yeah, he’s reacting exactly how you figured he would. 

“I know what it sounds like, but Jonathan… How else would you explain everything going on? Will disappeared, Barb did too, your mom and her lights. Now that thing Nancy saw in the woods, which I know you definitely have an update that will only further prove how weird this all is.”

Again Jonathan is quiet, and this time you envision him pacing little circles in the kitchen as he carefully thinks through your words, trying to piece it all together. “We developed the photo again and you’re right, there’s something behind Barb in it.” 

You close your eyes and exhale. “So, you believe me now?”

“Guess I don’t really have a choice.”

“You don’t.” 

“Then we’ll talk about it after the funeral tomorrow.” He concedes. 

“Yeah,” you let out a shaky breath, “the funeral. I’ll make my way over the second I wake up tomorrow to help with everything.” 

“You don’t have to-”

“I know.” 

More silence settles over the two of you. It’s still hard to wrap your head around the fact that it was only a week ago where everything was normal. No disappearances, no weird feelings, no heartbreak and confusion. 

“Bug?” Jonathan is practically whispering. 

“Yeah?”

“Lonnie is here.”

The words hit you hard. Why the fuck is Lonnie back in Hawkins? “Do you need to spend the night? I can finally bake those cookies for your mom and we can watch whatever you want.” 

“No,” he sounds exhausted. “He hasn’t been a problem yet, and I can’t…” 

“Leave your mom with him?” You finish. 

“He thinks she’s crazy and her axing down one of our walls doesn’t help-”

So you were right, Joyce did indeed break down her wall to try and get to Will.

“Jonathan, it’s okay. I understand, stay with her and get some rest. Sleep, that’s an order.”

He lets out a weak laugh. “I love you, bug.” 

Like how I love you?

“I love you too, bee.” The words burn your tongue. 

“Goodnight,”

“Sleep well.”

– 

You’re up before the sun this morning.

You spent hours tossing and turning last night, hardly getting any sleep. No matter how hard you tried, you couldn’t seem to turn your mind off. All you could think about was Jonathan, his smile and his voice and the way he kisses your forehead whenever you’ve done something especially endearing to him. You were surrounded by him last night. 

Now you stand outside his front door holding a tin of cookies, dressed in a simple knitted black dress and tights with mary janes that used to belong to your mom for Will’s funeral. The shoes are your favorite, but now you’re afraid they’re tainted by the occasion you’re wearing them for. 

It’s Lonnie who opens the door. “Well if it isn’t little miss Henderson. I missed ya, sweetheart.” 

You haven’t seen the man in two years, having been fourteen when he left Joyce and the kids. Since then he’s only aged horribly, his eyes slightly yellowed and his beer gut now more prominent. Clearly he still prefers alcohol over human company. Figures. 

“Can’t say the same about you.” Your shoulder hits his as you walk in and he lets out an annoyed huff. 

The man follows you but you pay him no attention. Instead you head straight towards Joyce and the second she sees you she runs into your arms; you only have a few seconds to place down the cookies before she’s in your arms. 

“Y/N! You’re here!” She squeezes you tight and you melt into her embrace. She’s always given the best hugs whenever you’ve needed the comfort, but now it’s your turn to be the one offering the support. 

“Of course, Mrs. Byers. Who else will make sure Jonathan is ready on time?” You mean for it to be a joke, but the way that Joyce’s eyes harden tells you that the funeral is a sore topic for her. She still doesn’t believe that Will is dead and it breaks your fucking heart that you can’t tell her she’s right. 

Joyce wipes away a tear before pulling away. She goes to say something before seeing the tin of cookies on the counter; she immediately pulls you into another hug. “Oatmeal raisin,” 

“They’re your favorite.”

“And Will’s.”

“And Will’s favorite. You know I gotta take care of my Byers.” You whisper into her ear, feeling Lonnie’s eyes on you during the exchange. You have to bite back your tongue, though his presence always makes you feel a type of anger that’s normally foreign to you. 

Joyce pulls away and you know it’s taking everything in her to give you a smile. “You’re too good, sweetie,” she tucks a loose strand of hair that came out of its braid. “Jonathan’s in his room.” 

You grab her hand and give it a squeeze, trying to convey just how much you love and admire her into a simple gesture, before letting go and walking over to Jonathan’s door. 

He’s struggling with his tie when you let yourself in. He’s dressed in the only nice white button down he owns, something he bought for his aunt’s funeral a few years ago that now hardly fits. You can tell that he’s getting frustrated with the tie, so you walk over and help. 

“Here, let me,” you wrap your fingers around the piece of cloth and quickly fashion it into a tie. The two of you don’t talk while you fix the clothing and you know that today will be a wordless day with Jonathan. 

When you’ve finished, you begin to pull away before he places his hands around yours. He cups your hands at the base of his neck as they rest against his collarbones; your fingers are still wrapped around his tie. He squeezes your hands and brings them to his lips and kisses your knuckles so softly that you feel all the love within you simmer.

You know he’s only trying to express his gratitude for you but the butterflies in your stomach make you feel faint. 

You’d do anything for him. 

– 

The funeral has a surprising turnout, not because you ever doubted Will’s incredible ability to be loved by anyone he meets, but because you see faces in the crowd who you’ve never seen before. 

You stand behind Jonathan during the funeral with your hand on his shoulder as he sits with his family in a weak attempt to provide comfort during the service. It’s really fucking bleak. Your other hand is on Dustin’s shoulder as he stands next to you while Mike and Lucas are to the right of him.

Your mother is in the back of the crowd having known she’d cry the entire service, and faintly you can hear her blow her nose into a tissue and sniffle. 

The pastor drones on for a while about how a tragedy like this won’t separate everyone from God’s love, but if attending the funeral for a twelve year old boy is how God shows his love then you want no part in it. Joyce sits stoic alongside Lonnie, Jonathan hasn’t moved at all since the service began; they’re a family brought together by grief. This isn’t love. 

“Just wait until we tell Will that Jennifer Hayes was crying at his funeral,” Dustin snickers, effectively breaking you from your thoughts. You hit his shoulder and shush him as Mrs. Wheeler reminds the boys to be quiet. You flash her an apologetic smile for your brother’s actions. 

You know how firmly the boys believe Will is alive and you honestly can’t say you don’t think so as well, but nothing is certain. Even if he’s alive there’s no way you guys can get to wherever he is; you wish the boys would use some caution with how quickly they’re building their hopes up. 

After the service you walk up to Will’s grave and bend down. You bring one of the yellow roses from the funeral director up to your lips and whisper, “If you’re out there little bee, please, come home.”

Before dropping the rose in you give it a gentle kiss, inhaling its sweet scent and watching as it falls down onto his coffin. Jonathan finds you there crouched down and sees the rose right as it lands. He doesn’t say anything, he just grabs your hand and helps you stand up to bring you over to where Nancy is waiting a couple yards away. 

“Hey, Y/N.” 

You don’t have it in you to do anything other than wave at the girl, but she seems to understand and gives you a sympathetic smile. 

Soon the three of you are settled on the ground with your backs against an old rickety fence behind some tombstones. Jonathan is in the middle of you and Nancy and you rest your head against his shoulder, already exhausted from the day. It’s not the coziest spot to be sitting, but at least you’re away from prying eyes. 

Once you’re seated, Jonathan finally talks for the first time today. “Alright, I already told you this over the phone last night bug, but Nancy was right. After we redeveloped the photo there’s definitely some kind of figure behind Barb, and we thought maybe if my mom has been right all along about some monster-”

“Then she’s right about Will being alive.” You finish for him, having already come to the same conclusion yourself.

“And Barb has to be alive if Will is.” Nancy says, and there’s a spark of hope in her voice that surprises you. You’re ashamed to admit that you didn’t think her and Barb were that close, but seeing how worried she’s been for the girl makes you realize that you’d been a fool not to have seen it sooner. Barb was Nancy’s closest friend. You don’t know what you’d do if Jonathan ever disappeared like Barb did. 

Jonathan pushes your head with his shoulder. “Anything you want to share with the class?”

You look between him and Nancy and try to decide how much you should tell them. While you’ve already told Jonathan a little bit about El, you’re not sure if you can trust the information with Nancy. However, seeing her urgency to find her friend leaves you feeling a bit safer disclosing the information to her. 

“It started the night after Will disappeared…”

It takes a while to tell them everything, and while Jonathan butts in a few times to ask questions, Nancy remains silent and eagerly listens. She nods when she’s supposed to, engages with the story as if her life depends on it. You’re incredibly impressed by her intelligence and openness to the situation at hand. Had it been anyone else they would’ve scoffed at you and called you insane. But Nancy? She holds onto every word and trusts that what you’re saying is true. 

You’re starting to admire her, as painful as it is to admit. But Nancy Wheeler is fucking brilliant, there’s no denying that. 

When you’re finally done explaining El and the Upside Down, Nancy finally speaks. “Let me make sure I’m understanding correctly, you’ve been helping my brother harbor a girl with superpowers in my basement?”

Huh. 

You hadn’t thought of it that way. 

“Ya know, you make a good point.”

Thankfully she laughs and doesn’t seem too upset, which relieves you. You reassure her that they’re fine and that El is someone you trust, and Nancy seems to take comfort in your words. It’s not that you purposely hid the situation from her, but looking back you definitely could’ve used her help now that you know how cool she is. 

As the two of you are laughing, Jonathan pulls out a piece of paper. 

“What’s that?” You ask. 

He shows you. “I printed out a map of Hawkins and drew x’s on every place we know for sure the monster has been.” 

“Two questions: one, so we’re officially calling it the monster now? And two, why don’t you ever put in this much effort for school projects we do together?” 

Jonathan flicks the paper in your face. “Funny. And yes, we’re calling it the monster now. Can you pay attention please?”

“Sorry,”

Nancy shuffles in closer and her head is practically on Jonathan’s shoulder as well (you’re choosing to ignore that) and she studies the paper and points to one of the x’s. “So that’s-”

“Steve’s house,” Jonathan points to another x, “and that’s the woods where they found Will’s bike and where Y/N last saw him,” the familiar feeling of guilt washes over you, “and that’s my house.” 

Nancy reaches over Jonathan and grabs your hand, surprising you both. “You saw Will last?”

“Yeah,” you swallow, your mouth now suddenly dry. 

“I’m sorry,” her tone is sincere.

“We should get back to the map…” You dodge, highly uncomfortable with Nancy’s comfort. You appreciate it, but you’ve never been good at accepting help from others. 

“Right, sorry,” Nancy clears her throat. “The x’s, they’re all so close.”

Jonathan observes the interaction with slight confusion but decides not to say anything besides, “Yeah, exactly. I mean, it’s all within a mile or something. Whatever this thing is, it’s not traveling far.”

There’s a look in his eyes as he speaks, one of determination and disdain for whatever that thing is, and before you can tell him no, it’s Nancy who voices your concern first. “You want to go out there.”

Jonathan nods and you feel uneasy. “I trust you won’t try going alone again, right?” It’s a question, but he hears the underlying try and I’ll kill you hidden beneath your words.

“No, not this time… but we might not find anything.” 

“I found something,” Nancy reminds him, which you nod at. She’s the only one out of the three of you who has seen the monster in person, and if you had to place any bets, she’s the one who will be able to figure out what the fuck to do with it. 

Actually, what are you guys going to do?

“Do we, like, have a plan for after we’re done monster sightseeing? Or are we just going to take a look at it and call it a night?” You ask the two of them. 

Nancy bites her lip and looks down, also unsure what exactly the three of you are supposed to do. It’s Jonathan who remains stone faced, and there’s a newfound sense of confidence within him that you’ve never seen when he boldly states, “We kill it.”

“Alright there tough guy,” you hit his chest with your hand and snort. “Sure, we kill it. Obviously.”

“Well, do you have any other ideas? For all we know, Mike and the others will be out there in those woods later looking for Will.”

“We don’t know that-”

“Bug, humor me, how did they find El again?”

You’re silent. He’s right, if you guys don’t go and find this monster before tonight then there’s a high chance the boys and El will find it themselves. Fuck. 

“Nancy,” you say to the girl, “it seems like we’re now officially monster hunters.”

– 

Of course Lonnie has a goddamn handgun just casually stored in his glove box.

You’re not entirely on board with this whole gun situation and apparently Nancy isn’t either, immediately questioning Jonathan when he picks the lock to get the gun.

“What, you want to find this thing and take another photo? Yell at it? Better yet, why doesn’t Y/N just round up the boys and El and have them take it down.”  

“Okay, hey,” you point at Jonathan. “Out of line.” 

He mumbles an apology under his breath while Nancy claims that this is all a terrible idea. You’re not sure where you fall in regards to what’s happening, but you’d say at the moment you’re a solid mix between Jonathan’s no time for nonsense mood and Nancy’s hey let’s slow down hesitation. 

You kick a rock and watch as it dings against Lonnie’s car, which pleases you. “Oh it’s definitely a terrible idea, Nancy. Unfortunately it’s all we have going for us at the moment.” 

Jonathan nods at your words. “She’s right, no one’s going to believe us if we tell them. You know that.” 

“Your mom would.” Nancy responds, jutting her jaw out in defiance. 

You cringe, unsure how Jonathan will respond to what she’s said. Joyce is a sore topic for him, he’s always been so protective of her.

“She’s been through enough,” he sighs, and you hum in agreement. 

Nancy grows more frustrated. “She deserves to know!”

You step in between them. “Look, you’re right. Mrs. Byers deserves to know, but right now she isn’t well enough to handle the idea of her only remaining son actively seeking out a monster that may have taken her other son who could possibly be alive. If we’re wrong or Jonathan gets hurt, it might actually kill her.”

“Yeah, we’ll tell her when this thing is dead.” You note Jonathan’s word choice, saying “when” instead of “if”. In the four years you’ve been his friend, you’ve never seen him so self-assured before. You’d be proud of him if the circumstances weren’t so damn grim. 

“What about the kids?” Nancy finally says after a few seconds of silence. 

“They can’t get involved, I won’t let them.” You tell her and she nods as if expecting you’d say that. 

She gestures over to the funeral home where the crowd of attendees are now gathered for the post burial service. “I know my brother, so you better go and tell him that they need to stay at our house while we deal with the monster. They like you better than they like me, they’ll listen to you if you explain what we’re doing.” 

You’re flattered by her words, honestly. Mike, Dustin, and Lucas listening to you about staying put while you guys go monster hunting? They’d be out the door before you’d be even able to finish saying the phrase “monster hunting”. No way they’ll listen, and you’re about to say exactly that before catching the look Jonathan is giving you. 

You groan at him. “You don’t actually believe they’ll listen to me, right? C’mon, you know those boys as well as I do. This is just a giant DnD game for them at this point.” 

He shrugs, “It doesn’t hurt to try?”

Nancy gives you a hopeful look and bats her eyelashes at you, which, okay, shouldn’t work on you but does. Jonathan does the same, except instead of batting his eyelashes he winks at you and suddenly you’re very confused by the onslaught of emotions that wash over you.

“Ugh, fine. But when they show up in the woods later you guys are on your own!” 

– 

When you step inside the service hall, everyone is gathered into small groups talking amongst themselves. You scan the room for the kids and spot them across the room sitting at a table with Mr. Clark. He’s talking to them about something while holding a paper plate up. You’re not sure what exactly he’s saying to the boys, but they’re leaning in close to him and are listening intently. 

This worries you. 

You try to make your way over as quickly as you can, but being Jonathan’s best friend has some challenges. Every few steps you take you’re stopped by an extended family member of the Byers to ask how you are or a stranger stops to offer you their condolences because you’re close with the family. You do your best to make small talk and thank the people, but you don’t have time to say much else besides, “thank you” or “you were Will’s favorite great aunt”.

By the time you finally get to the table with Mr. Clark and the boys, the man has folded up the paper plate and stabs it with a pen. You really, really don’t want to know whatever the hell this man is explaining to the kids. 

“You create a doorway,” he explains, holding up the plate and smiling at the boys. 

Dustin looks enthralled. “Like a gate?”

“Sure, like a gate. But again, this is all-”

“Theoretical.” Lucas says, nodding his head.

A gate?

What are the odds the boys are talking about a gate to Disneyland?

You sigh, not liking the odds at all.

You slide yourself into Dustin’s chair and force your brother to share with you. He squeaks in surprise and you flash him a tight lipped smile, which causes him to gulp. He knows he’s been busted. 

Mike scoffs at your arrival. “Gee, wonder why you’re here Y/N.”

“Go on, continue this conversation with Mr. Clark here. I wanna hear it.” 

Mr. Clark looks at you uncertainly but Mike simply carries on with the conversation as if you aren’t even here. “But what if this gate already existed?”

“Well, if it did I think we’d know.”

You snort. “Wanna bet?”

Again the man looks at you uncertainly and clears his throat, uncomfortable by your presence. “What I mean to say is that it would disrupt gravity, the magnetic field, our environment.”

“So if there is a gate, it’d be really bad?” You ask, but you already know the answer. 

“Oh, definitely. It might even swallow us up whole!” 

You and the boys look around the table at one another, not at all liking what Mr. Clark is saying. Swallow you guys up whole? That’s not really something you’re interested in. 

Mr. Clark sees your nervousness and shrugs. “Science is neat, but it’s not very forgiving.”

Silence falls upon the table. 

Mr. Clark is such a peachy person.

“Well!” You throw your hands upon the table and the loud noise causes everyone to flinch. “Thank you so much for that lovely information, Mr. Clark. It was truly riveting, but would you mind giving me and the boys a second alone? I just, I want to make sure they’re doing okay after today.” 

You bat your eyes at the man, something you never do, and he clears his throat and excuses himself. The second he’s gone you snap your finger in the boys’ faces. “Hey, listen up. Whatever you guys are planning? Don’t.”

As usual, Mike is the one who argues. “But-”

“No.”

“You don’t even know what we’re-”

“No.”

“Can you at least let me-”

“Sure,”

“Really?”

“No.”

Lucas and Dustin watch the interaction with slight pleasure, amused by your ability to shut Mike up, but when he turns to them for help they reluctantly give in. 

“Y/N,” Dustin sighs, “honestly, how many times are we gonna do this whole ‘we’re not allowed but we’re going to do it anyways’ bit?” 

You glare at your brother. “However many times it takes for you guys to finally listen.”

“Cool. Then we’ll expect you to bust down Mike’s door later tonight.”

“I’m not kidding,” you face all the kids and make sure they’re listening. “Whatever you’re trying to do, don’t. Jonathan and I-”

“You told Jonathan?” Mike exclaims but Lucas shushes him. 

“We’re going to handle it, we already have a plan but whatever you do: stay out of the woods from here on out. We think… We think there’s a monster out there hiding. I just want to make sure you guys are safe.”

“Monster hunting?” Dustin’s eyes light up and you silently curse Jonathan and Nancy for even suggesting you do this in the first place.

“Technically… yes, but you guys absolutely have to stay put.”

They stare at you as if you’re insane.

“You do realize who you’re talking to, right?” Dustin asks. 

You flick his head. “Yes, and I’m putting a lot of trust in you guys right now. I’ll let you guys do whatever you want so long as it doesn’t include the woods. Until you get an all clear from me, it’s off limits.” 

Mike thinks this over. “Can we look for the gate then?”

You sigh. There’s no other way to appease them. “If you don’t go near the woods… then fine.”

The boys begin to cheer, which causes several funeral guests to stare at you with judgment. You realize now that this probably hadn’t been the right setting to have this conversation in. Oh well.

You don’t let the boys cheer for long. “However-”

“There she goes,” Lucas sinks into his seat and squeezes his eyes shut. 

“I get full updates whenever I please. I don’t care if I have to track you guys down from the gates of hell itself, but I will find you and you will tell me everything. Deal?”

Lucas, Dustin, and Mike gather close together and duck their heads down so whisper to one another. You roll your eyes but wait for them to finish. When they’ve reached a decision, Mike interlocks his fingers and places his hands on the table. “You’ve got yourself a deal.” 

– 

As soon as you’ve changed out of your funeral clothes and into a simple pair of jeans and a sweater, Jonathan arrives at your house. You kiss your mom’s cheek before leaving and shout over your shoulder, “Remember the deal, Dustin!” 

You don’t quite catch what your brother responds with but you honestly don’t care enough as you run over to Jonathan’s car and hop into the passenger seat. 

“You certainly didn’t waste any time getting here,” you say in lieu of a hello. 

Jonathan shrugs. “No time to waste when it comes to monster hunting.”

“You do realize that we’re only scouting out the woods tonight, right?” 

You, Jonathan, and Nancy had decided earlier to simply go and explore the woods for any clues of the monster and then figure out how, or even if, you can kill it. 

“I know, but monster hunting sounds cooler.”

“Bless you, bee.” 

The two of you get to the field in no time. Jonathan had been the one to suggest the spot a few yards behind his house for target practice and Nancy had agreed to bring a bat just in case you needed more protection. 

And you?

You’re bringing the cans to serve as targets for shooting. Your family has never owned a gun and last time you checked, Dustin doesn’t play any sports, so all you can offer is your emptied recycling bin contents. 

It doesn’t take long for you and Jonathan to set up the cans on top of the tree trunks before he begins shooting. Jonathan takes a deep breath and holds the gun up so it’s eye level and looks over at you. “Ready?”

You take a deep breath as well and prepare yourself, knowing it’s about to become loud. “Yeah, start shootin' cowboy.” 

The first shot hits a tree behind the can, nowhere near its intended target, and you wince. It’s looking like the monster might actually win at the rate Jonathan’s aim is going. 

“It’s okay,” you tell your friend. “The tree looked at me funny, he had it coming.” 

Jonathan snorts. “You’re laughing now, but I can’t exactly hunt a monster if I can’t even shoot it.” 

“Maybe you could talk nicely to it?”

“And say what, exactly? ‘Hey, Mr. Monster, where are you hiding my brother?’”

You step closer to him so that you’re now side by side and you nudge his shoulder. “Hey, you never know. It could work.”

Jonathan readjusts his grip on the gun and aims it once more. He takes another shot, this time it lands a bit closer to the can, but not by much. He lets out an agitated, “Fuck!”

He tries shooting again and again but each shot is as unpredictable as the last. After his sixth round of firing you can see how tense his shoulders are and the way he’s clenching his fists against the weapon. You remember how he acted earlier today, the newfound anger and resentment within Jonathan that had originally impressed you. Now it only frightens you. 

When he goes to re-aim the gun for the seventh time, you grab at his hand and stop him. 

“Bug, what are you-”

“Let’s go for a walk.” 

Jonathan looks at you like you’re crazy but you simply take the gun from his hands, click the safety back on, and then walk over to the tree stumps to rest it against one of them. When you’re done you walk back over to the boy and interlock your fingers with his to drag him along. 

There’s not a whole bunch of room in the clearing for a walk per say, but there’s enough to go a few laps around for Jonathan to take a breather. You’re not sure exactly what’s going on with him but a walk has never hurt anyone. 

Jonathan’s silent the first lap around. You’re content with this and you admire the fall weather and enjoy the slight warmth from the sun as it kisses your face. When you’re on the third lap you decide to ask a question that’s been on your mind since yesterday when Nancy showed up at the funeral home. 

“Do you really believe Will is alive?”

Jonathan thinks the question over for a moment, and as he’s lost in thought you notice that he begins gently swinging your hands back and forth absentmindedly. “I can still feel him.”

“Feel him?”

“Yeah, I know it sounds crazy but…”

“No, I think I get it. I mean, I’d be able to feel if something bad happened to Dustin. I know I’d be able to, even if there’s not necessarily a science behind it. It’s like there’s a lifeline connecting us, like some unspoken sibling thread that neither one of us can sever.”

“A sibling thread?” Jonathan asks, a slight laugh accompanying his question. 

“Oh, you know what I mean, bee.” 

“No, no. I wanna hear all about this thread theory of yours.” 

Jonathan’s bright mood is back, reminiscent of the boy you once believed you knew better than you knew yourself, so you entertain his teasing if only to sustain his light a little longer. “If I explain this theory you have to promise not to laugh at me.”

“I promise,” he says and he gives your hand a light squeeze. 

“Alright, but if you decide I’m insane after this, just know that you legally cannot leave me. You signed a contract.” 

“Oh, did I?”

“You sure did, bee. Anyways, back to me,” a slight breeze surrounds you for a moment and you let the crisp air fill your lungs. “I have this theory that we’re all connected to each other in some way by different threads. Some threads are older than others, stronger, or maybe even more rigid, but they’re there. Whether it’s a thread between you and your family, the love of your life, or a stranger you happen to pass on the street one day, none of it happens by accident.” 

“The threads are the reason it all happens?”

“Not necessarily, but yeah. To put it simply, I guess you could say that.” 

“So, for our thread,” Jonathan stops walking and tugs at you to stop as well. “After everything we’ve been through, all that we’ve done for one another, what thread would you say ours is?”

His question catches you off guard; you can hear your heart beating within your chest. There’s so many things you wish you could tell him.

Our thread is one of romance, of lovers, of soulmates, even. 

The feelings build within you and the words threaten to spill out. The November sun is beginning to set and everything is golden in its light and Jonathan is a part of it all. His brown eyes are like warm honey on a cold winter morning and his hair is slightly ruffled from the wind that leaves his cheeks flushed and rosy. 

“Our thread,” your voice catches in your throat for a moment. “You know what our thread is, bee.”

He pulls you closer to him and in this moment all you can focus on are the slight freckles that dot across his face and neck. “Do I?”

Jonathan has never, ever looked at you like this before. There’s an intensity within his eyes that frightens you and leaves you feeling bare before him. Does he know? Has he figured it all out?

“I…” You can’t form the words you want to say; the three words that have been weighing upon you feel even heavier than before. They’re thick on your tongue, syrupy and dense and you feel as if you can’t breathe.

“Y/N?” He whispers, but you can only shake your head. 

It’s too much. It’s all too much. 

And then suddenly Jonathan leans in. 

Maybe you’re imagining it. 

Maybe you’re delirious after almost a week of sleepless nights and exhausting encounters. 

Or maybe, just maybe, he feels the same way about you. 

You lean in as well and allow yourself to close your eyes; you believe that just this once you can be selfish and accept more than you may deserve.

“Hey! Guys!”

Nancy’s shout causes you and Jonathan to spring apart. 

You want to scream. 

Of course it’s Nancy fucking Wheeler. 

Jonathan drops your hand and waves the girl over while you stand there, trying to collect yourself. As she walks over, you have just enough pride left over to say, “You know I’d do anything for you, right?”

The question is one Jonathan isn’t expecting. He steps back a bit, now even more aware of the close proximity the two of you had only seconds ago. “Of course I do, bug. You’re my best friend.”

Best friend. 

The words hurt more than they should, really. 

“Right. Best friend, ha.” You step even further away from Jonathan, which he raises his eyebrows at. 

“Did I miss something or…?”

If you had the time, you’d ask him why he wanted to know about the thread between the two of you. Why he looks at you like you’re the most precious thing in the entire room. Why, just minutes ago, he leaned in as if to kiss you. 

But Nancy is now only a couple feet away and it wouldn’t be fair to ask her to give the two of you some privacy. You spot the bat in her hand and it serves as a reminder of what the three of you are here for in the first place. 

Will, Barb, the monster. 

“No, of course not,” you clear your throat and greet Nancy as she arrives. “Hey, Nancy.”

She smiles at you and then says hello to Jonathan. “Hey, where’s the gun?”

You point over to the cans and the tree stumps. “Over there, we just wanted to go for a little walk after shooting a few rounds.”

Nancy nods and walks over to inspect the undamaged cans. “You said you already shot a few rounds?”

Jonathan ducks his head down. “Yeah, well. It’s not as easy as it looks in the movies.” 

“Y/N, did you try shooting?” 

“Pfft, I’m definitely not a weapons kind of girl. I prefer to use my crippling good looks instead.”

While you and Nancy talk, Jonathan walks back over to the gun and reloads it. He motions for the two of you to step back and he shoots a few more times. Not once does he hit the can. You pinch the bridge of your nose and sigh. 

“You’re awful at this, bee.”

“Yeah,” Nancy agrees.

Jonathan looks over at her. “Have you ever shot a gun before?”

She scoffs. “Have you met my parents?”

“I don’t know, Mrs. Wheeler seems like the type to have a hidden gun.” You say, and Nancy waves you off. 

“Well, I haven’t shot one since I was ten. My dad took me hunting on my birthday and made me kill a rabbit.” Jonathan’s words make you frown. Every day he gives you another reason to hate Lonnie. 

Nancy sympathizes with Jonathan and the two of them fall into an easy banter that you’ve never seen before with him. He’s comfortable around her in a way that makes your stomach twist. He tells her about his parents and how they may have loved each other at one point but now no longer do. He’s opening up to her after only a few days of really knowing her. 

Lovely. 

Nancy shares some details about her own family and how she believes her parents never loved each other, which you can relate to. You watch as Jonathan hands her the gun as she explains how her mom had been younger than her father. “He had a cushy job, money, came from a good family. So, they bought a nice house at the end of a cul-de-sac and started their nuclear family.”

“Isn’t it funny how the fathers never seem to suffer the same fate as the mothers?” You ask, and Nancy looks over at you in confusion, so you explain further. “My own parents, they were like yours except the moment my mom was no longer young, my dad left. Found a newer and cheaper model back home in Virginia.” 

“I didn’t know that, I’m sorry Y/N.” 

You shrug. “It’s not like I go and advertise it. Besides, he was an asshole anyways and my mom is better off without him. She’s the sweetest woman in the world who was forced to run back to her family in Hawkins. Nuclear families aren’t all they’re cracked out to be.”

Jonathan ruffles your hair to get you to laugh, which he succeeds in doing. “Screw that.”

 Nancy raises the gun to eye level and closes one of her eyes, her beautiful face now scrunched in concentration. “Yeah, screw that.”

And with that, she shoots a perfectly aimed shot and knocks the can off the stump. You and Jonathan look at her, stunned, but she can only laugh. 

“Damn, Jonathan. Remind me to never piss Nancy off.” You say, still staring at the fallen can. 

Only he doesn’t hear what you’ve said because he’s too busy staring at Nancy. You can tell he’s impressed by her hidden shooting talent and the way she holds herself with such confidence. His eyes shine as he stares at her and he almost seems to come to life whenever she looks back at him. 

Jonathan looks at Nancy and you know he sees what everyone in Hawkins sees: a beautiful, fierce, and incredible girl. 

Nancy Wheeler, the perfect enigma.

Suddenly it clicks. 

Jonathan is in love with her, or at least he’s beginning to fall in love with her. 

You want to hate her. Afterall, she already has Harrington head over heels for her, and yet you can’t blame either one of the boys. She’s perfect and brilliant and everything you’re not. You’d fall in love with her too if you weren’t already in love with someone else. 

You watch as Nancy and Jonathan become lost in their own little world, him helping her reload the gun as she flashes him a shy smile, and you no longer exist near their presence. It feels like a fucking stab to your already open wound of a heart. You watch the way he ducks his head down whenever she looks at him and the way she stares at him when he isn’t looking. 

Nancy shoots a few more rounds and each shot feels like a hammer coming down onto your own coffin. Each time Jonathan looks at her you feel another nail enter. 

Clearly there’s no room for you here. 

Which is fucking ironic given that you’re in a giant field outside. 

You reach for Jonathan’s hand and tug him forward. He gives you a look as if asking is everything okay? and you wish more than ever that things were different between the two of you. You give him a soft shake of the head. “I can feel a headache coming on and I just remembered that I have a shift tonight, so I should get going.” 

He frowns. “But what about the monster? We can’t look for him without you.”

“You’ll be fine without me,” to your horror you can feel tears forming, which you quickly wipe away before Jonathan can notice. “I doubt I’d be any help, anyways. I suck with guns. Nancy’s the professional here.” 

“I mean, I guess, but…” He looks over at Nancy, who is busy firing the gun and hitting every target she aims for, before pulling you even closer to him. “Are we okay? I feel like, I don’t know… like I’m losing you.”

Your breath catches in your throat. He could never, ever lose you, but if you don’t leave now then you’re afraid that maybe you’ll lose yourself. 

“Don’t be silly, bee. You’re not losing me, no matter how much you may want me to.” You try to tease him, but your heart isn’t in it. 

“You didn’t answer my question, Y/N. Are we okay?” He’s looking at you with so much adoration and concern in his eyes that it almost makes you sick. 

“Of course we are. I promise. I think it’s all just catching up to me, if I’m being honest. Between finding Will and tracking down my own brother, I think this monster hunting business may break me.” 

Jonathan eyes you for a moment as if to try and catch you in a lie, but while you’re only telling him this as an excuse to get away from him and Nancy, it’s not technically a lie. You are exhausted. Plus, you really do have a shift. 

The boy scans your face once more before deciding that you’re telling the truth. You know he suspects there’s something else behind your words, but thankfully he doesn’t pry. “Let me tell Nance that I’m driving you home,” 

And there it is again. 

Nance.

The nickname is like a punch to your gut and only solidifies that you should go. “It’s okay, bee. It’s still nice out, figured I’d walk home and get some sun before winter officially takes over Hawkins.” 

“You can’t expect me to let you walk alone now that we know there’s a monster out there taking people, bug.” 

You kiss his cheek, letting your lips linger for a little longer than necessary. “I’ll be careful, I promise. Stay with Nancy and call me tonight after you guys are done scouting around. We’ll figure out where to go from there. Okay?”

You don’t give Jonathan time to argue because you pull away and inform Nancy of your departure. She also frowns at the idea but has already learned that you’re not one to be told what to do. She understands this aspect of you, and you understand it within her as well, so she wishes you goodbye and tells you to stay safe before going back to shooting.

As you leave, you feel Jonathan’s eyes follow after you. 

– 

The walk ends up being more than enough to clear your head. You haven’t had any time to be alone in god knows how long, so it’s nice to have some time to just think and enjoy the quiet. There’s a lot you need to think about, but at the very forefront of your concerns are Will and El. You still have no idea how they’re connected or how the monster comes into play.

Then there’s Steve, oddly enough. 

You’re not really sure why he’s in the midst of your thoughts, but there he is. Smiling at you and laughing at your jokes and telling you that you’re pretty as he instills a carefree sense within you that feels foreign to enjoy. 

As his words ring through your head, you find your thoughts drifting towards Jonathan and the way he holds your hand every time you’re worried about something and the way he kisses your hair after a particularly hard day.

You’re not sure why the two boys almost seem to clash within your mind, but you don’t have time to look into it. Your shift starts soon and god knows how long your coworker Alex can survive on his own if you’re late. 

Work is slow as usual tonight, but you find the downtime a pleasant relief. It gives you the opportunity to skim some new books that shipped in and catch up on some Spidey storylines. In between stocking books and arranging comic displays you find yourself wondering just how true to his word Dustin stayed earlier. 

Like hell those kids really stayed out of the woods. 

Your question is answered as soon as you get home and find your brother crying in his room. Panic immediately swells within your chest and you run over to him.

“What’s wrong?” You check Dustin’s body for any sign of injury and he lets you as he cries, too upset to wave you away. When you’re assured that he’s okay, you feel your heartbeat calm down again. 

Christ, every time you see this kid he takes ten damn years off of your life. 

You pull a chair from his desk and sit in front of him. “Dustin, do we need to have another code blue?”

“Maybe,” Dustin sniffles, wiping away a few tears. 

“Okay, then code blue. What happened? Is everyone okay? Is it El?” At the mention of the girl’s name, Dustin flinches. Your blood runs cold. “Dustin, what happened with El?” 

“You won’t yell at me?”

You smooth down his always wild hair. “Never during code blue. Please talk to me, bud.”

Dustin explains how he and the group had gone looking for the gate like they told you they would. He explained how they’d followed the train tracks throughout Hawkins for what seemed like hours. 

“The train tracks that go through the same woods I told you not to go in?”

“Like hell we were gonna listen to you.” 

“Yeah, I know.”

This gets Dustin to laugh a bit, which you’re relieved to see, before he continues his story. When he reveals El’s weird behavior and the way she seemed to be hiding something from them, you feel dread creep in. “Did she… Did she do something to prevent you guys from finding the gate?”

“She used her powers to mess with the compass. Lucas found the blood on her jacket.”

You sense that there’s more. “And then?”

“Mike and Lucas… they-they started fighting.” Dustin’s voice breaks, “they started really going at it, and I tried to stop them. I swear I tried, Y/N!”

“Shh,” you reach for his hand to try and calm him down. “I know you did, but I also know how Mike can get when he’s protective of someone and I know that Lucas isn’t El’s biggest fan. It was a recipe for disaster.”

Dustin snorts, “No kidding.” Then his face darkens once more, “but they wouldn’t listen, and that’s when El screamed.” 

“She screamed?”

“I think she was overwhelmed, but she used her powers on Lucas and flung him across the yard and he hit his head pretty hard…”

“She what-”

“She didn’t mean to! She looked really upset after, and Lucas was fine after he woke up-”

“He was knocked unconscious?”

“And then he stormed off and El ran off. We searched for her, but…” 

You stare at your brother in shock. That definitely hadn’t been what you were expecting. El never struck you as a violent girl, but she knocked Lucas out with her mind. Sure, she may have been trying to break up the fight, but you’re willing to bet that she lost control for a moment and Lucas ended up getting hurt as a result.

Maybe you don’t want superpowers. 

“Y/N, have I lost all my friends?” Dustin asks. 

You shush him once more. “No, of course not. You three boys have always been so drastically different from one another, and this week has been one from pure hell. It makes sense that Lucas and Mike finally snapped, but I promise you that they’ll bounce back eventually.” 

“And El?”

“I’m not sure what to make of her,” you admit. “She isn’t violent, I know she’s not. But we also clearly don’t know her as well as we think we do. I just, I need you to be careful around her, okay? Fight for her, defend her like you would for the boys, but be cautious as well.”

“Cautious, got it.” He cocks his head at you, “but what about Lucas and Mike? They’re still friends, right?”

“Of course they are. Just… sometimes friendship can be hard, but it’s almost always worth fighting for. It’s rare to find friends as loyal as Mike or as brave as Lucas or even as sincere as Will. Yet look at you guys, all together; you’re all incredibly lucky to have one another.”

“Lucky like you and Jonathan?” Dustin asks, a sly glint in his eyes. 

You smile, even if he’s teasing you. “Yeah, like me and Jonathan.”

Dustin returns your smile and you squeeze his hand. “Anyways, I say give Lucas some time to calm down. I think he was scared, more than anything. Tomorrow you can try to talk to him again.” 

Your brother nods at your words and he seems better than he did when you first started the conversation, so you open your arms wide and engulf him into a hug. 

“Code blue concluded, I guess.” Dustin mumbles against your chest, which causes the two of you to laugh.

– 

After your talk with Dustin, you head back to your room and wait for Jonathan to call. You glance at the clock and figure that maybe him and Nancy were still out scouting for clues, so you busy yourself with some homework.

When it nears ten at night and the phone still hasn’t rung, you sigh and reach over for the phone on your desk. You dial Jonathan’s number and hope he simply forgot to call, but when no one answers after your fifth time calling: you begin to worry. 

Ya know, maybe it wasn’t your best idea letting him and Nancy go off alone with a monster on the loose. 

You find yourself frantically biking to the Wheeler’s house before you can even think about it. The night blurs past you and as you walk up their driveway and try to rest your bike against their mailbox, a familiar BMW parks next to you. 

“We’ve gotta stop meeting like this, Henderson.” Steve says as he sends you a wink. 

You almost greet the boy before Tommy’s head pops out from the passenger side window. “Hey good lookin.”

You hear Carol berate him and the two begin to bicker as Steve gets out of the car. 

Great. He brought the idiots.

Steve walks over and takes your bike from your hands. After a couple seconds of repositioning and balancing, he finally manages to get the bike to stay upright. “Tada!”

“I almost had it,” you glare at him. 

“Sure ya did.”

Steve’s presence is frustrating as always, but you spot Jonathan’s car parked down the street and Carol’s shrill voice becomes increasingly irritating. You don’t have time for this right now. “What are you doing here, Harrington?”

“I could ask you the same thing.” When you glare at him, he finally says, “Nancy promised she’d call me but hasn’t, so I wanted to check on her.”

His sincerity is why you say, “I’m here for…” You realize you can’t necessarily tell Steve about Jonathan possibly being here. You have a feeling it wouldn’t end well, but you’re also not keen on lying to the boy. You’re already keeping secrets from practically everyone in your life; you don’t want to add Steve to the list. Not when he doesn’t deserve it. 

“I’m looking for Jonathan,” you confess, worried about Steve’s reaction. 

He frowns. “Why would Byers be here?”

“Him and Nancy have this… thing for English. Due tomorrow. A big thing. Like, huge. So they’re working on it together. In the house. Where Nancy lives. Here.” You stumble over your words, more nervous than usual, but you weren’t expecting Steve to be here or that you’d need a cover story. 

“Uh huh,” something almost aggressive flickers across Steve’s face and you silently curse to yourself. You said the wrong thing. 

“Funny, Nancy told me she was only helping Byers for the funeral.” 

Shit.

Tommy and Carol watch from the car, obviously amused by the whole situation. 

“Right! She was, now she’s working on an assignment with him.” Technically not a lie, you’re just omitting the fact that the assignment in question is monster hunting. 

“You’re really bad at lying, Henderson.” Steve walks past you, now over the conversation, and you struggle to keep up. You try to block his path, assuming that he’ll use the front door, but as you near the front step he side steps you and starts heading towards the bushes. 

“What are you doing?” You whisper loudly, trying not to draw too much attention to yourself. 

Steve ignores your whispered yelling and jumps on top of the radiator. Once he’s up, he begins to pull himself over the overhang and up onto the roof. There’s a window just above the ledge with a light on, which you presume to be Nancy’s room due to the practiced ease in which Steve scaled the house. 

You don’t try to climb up after him in fear that you’ll only end up embarrassing yourself. “Ya know, Mrs. Wheeler loves me, I could’ve just knocked on the door.”

Steve peers down at you, an easygoing smile now back on his face. “Relax, this is quicker. Besides, you gotta admit it was impressive to watch.”

Again he winks at you and you feel your cheeks flush. He’s right, it had been impressive to watch; he had made it look so easy. While you struggle to come up with a witty retort, Steve almost knocks on Nancy’s window before his smile drops.

You notice the way his face hardens. “Steve?”

He doesn’t respond, which only concerns you more. You begin to think about the millions of possibilities surrounding Nancy, Jonathan, and monster hunting; fear creeps in. “Is Nancy there? Is she okay?”

“Of course you’d be worried about Nancy right now,” Steve laughs bitterly. You frown at his words, unsure what they mean, but before you can ask anything else Steve angrily climbs back down.

“Steve, what-” He pushes past you in a frenzied hurry to get to his car, but you grab his jacket and force him to stop. “Answer me! Is Nancy okay? Was Jonathan with her?”

Steve whips around and sneers at you. “Why do you even care about them? About him?”

“Because we’re friends,” you say, and for the first time you really mean it. Nancy has become someone you’d call a friend. 

Another cruel laugh escapes Steve’s lips. “Friends, huh? Yeah, those two looked real fucking cozy in her bed.”

A wave of nausea hits you.

“W-what?” You drop your hand and release his jacket. 

“It’s incredible, really. Byers has some fucking nerve.” Steve runs a hand through his hair in agitation and begins to pace. You’re too numb to stop him. “I mean, look at you! He has everything he could possibly want, but he decides to go after my girlfriend.”

“It’s not like that-” 

“Did he tell you they’d be in her room, alone in her bed, underneath her blanket?”

More nausea hits you. “No,”

They were supposed to look for any signs of the monster in the woods. That’s all he told me, you think. 

“So he’s a liar, too.” Steve scoffs, “you deserve better, Y/N.”

And with that, he heads back to his car and drives away, leaving you standing alone once more in the Wheeler’s driveway. You get a sense of deja-vu, watching Steve’s BMW descend down the street, but only this time there’s no warmth fluttering within your stomach as he leaves. 

All you feel is nausea. 

You don’t remember the bike ride home; you’re not sure how you even made it back safely without crashing into anything. All you remember is that you cried the entire way. 

You’ve lost Jonathan, there’s no denying that now. He’s Nancy’s, wholly and truly, he’s hers. 

He was never yours in the first place, you remind yourself. 

But if he was never yours in the first place, then why does it feel like you were almost something?

No. 

You don’t want to think about it that way. 

Yours or not, you can’t afford to lose Jonathan. 

Something or everything, you’ll take whatever you can when it comes to him. 

Everything, anything, nothing. Whatever he gives you, you know you’ll cling onto it with all that’s within you.

But your friendship with Jonathan is too precious to lose, too meaningful to let stupid feelings ruin it. You refuse to let anything come between your friendship with him, and you swear to yourself to shove everything down. Every hurt feeling, all the pain stabbing within your chest, you force it all down to focus on finding Will. 

He’s all that matters right now, even if it feels like the thread connecting you to Jonathan has begun to wither.

Will has to come first. 

You have to find him, something good and lovely has to come from this. You can’t let this all be for nothing.

-

⌑ series masterlist

⌑ if youd like to buy me a coffee ☕︎

⌑ thank you for reading ! feel free to like, comment, reblog, or send in an ask so we can chat <3

[ell0ra-br3kk3r-writes]

Who's Afraid of Little Old Me?

part five

pairing: james potter x black sister!reader, regulus black x sister!reader

genre: angst with like maybe a little fluff?

el's thoughts: this is part five! hope yall enjoy!

main masterlist | regulus masterlist | james masterlist

Regulus and Y/N Black showed up at the Potter’s manor once again. Almost a year had gone by since the first time and the twins returned completely different people. They were no longer the scared children in need of help and shelter. 

Y/N knocked on the door swiftly and took a step back as she straightened her trench coat lapels. Regulus stood behind her, just over her shoulder keeping an eye on the surroundings behind them. 

The door opened cautiously and the twins were met with a pair of the most striking green eyes.

“Black,” Lily Evans said.

“Evans,” Y/N nodded curtly in response. “We were wondering if we could speak to Sirius?”

The redhead had eyed the skeptically. “What makes you think he’s here?”

Y/N rolled her eyes, “Please Evans, I’m not an idiot.”

“And neither are we.” 

Y/N saw immediately how her eyes cast downward to her cloaked forearm. Y/N’s stomach turned as she looked back to Regulus who also seemed uneasy. Y/N pulled at her sleeve and cleared her throat. “Please… let me see my brother.” Y/N inhaled deeply, “I beg of you, Lily.”

Lily sighed out of pure pity. “Alright, go around back. I’ll send him that way.”

Regulus eyed the redhead in distrust but led Y/N to follow her directions either way. They weren’t in a position to argue.

They walked to the back of the manor and saw Sirius waiting on the back porch anxiously running his hands through his hair. When he saw his younger siblings he lit up like a light bulb and rushed to hug them tightly.

“Oh thank Godric! I thought Lily was pullin’ my leg.” He made no move to let them go. “Are you two alright? I got so scared when you didn’t return, and then I got no letters from the both of you-”

“We’re fine, Siri,” Y/N mumbled into his shoulder as she held him back just as tightly. Without her realizing it, the ache of missing her eldest brother only grew as time passed. She missed the way he held her. The way he comforted her as if she were a child. “We’re alright. Promise.”

Regulus was the first to break up the hug and he cleared his throat while blinking quickly to rid himself of the tears that prickled in the back of his eyes. “Sirius, we came here to tell you something.”

“You’re Death Eaters? I’ve heard that already.”

“Yes, we’re Death Eaters, but that wasn’t what we came all this way to tell you. We’re not idiots.”

Y/N forced herself not to roll her eyes. “We came to get help and offer our services.”

“Offer your services?” Sirius trailed off, confusion swimming in his eyes. 

“We know the Dark Lord’s plans, having heard everything first hand. We can be valuable to your cause don’t’cha think?” Y/N said with a mock confidence and cockiness that her eyes didn’t carry.

“No.” Sirius shook his head, looking between his two little siblings. “Abouslute not. Do you know what you would be signing up for? That’s basically asking to die.”

“Sirius, please.”

“No, I won’t allow it. You can’t just put your lives on the line for the sake of others.”

“Is that not what you’re doing? What James, Remus, and Peter are doing?”

“That’s different…”

“How?” Y/N nearly snapped. “Tell me how is it any different? Sirius our lives are already on the line every day we wake up. We didn’t sign up for this. We didn’t want this life, so let us gain what little control we can. I want the risk to be worth something, Sirius.”

The older Black shook his head, “It’s too dangerous… I can’t.”

“Well, then it’s a good thing you’re not really in charge of us then. Isn’t it?” Regulus snipped.

“We are doing this, Sirius. With or without your support,” Y/N looked up at him with tears lining her eyes. “But we’d much rather have you stand up for us.”

Sirius stared at his siblings in silent mourning of their youth before he nodded slowly. “Okay, I support you both.”

~

James walked into the Potter’s kitchen. His parents left the house to him and he opened it up to the order, not wanting to stay in the house alone or let it sit empty and useless. His parents wouldn’t want that. 

Normally only he and Sirius actually lived there but since a few weeks ago Y/N and Regulus moved back in. Some of the other Order members would spend a night or two but never stayed longer. So it took a few days for James to get used to other people in the house again. 

Y/N sat at the kitchen counter nursing a cup of tea, that by the looks of it had gone cold a while ago. She sat in her pjamas with one knee brought up to her chest and the other tucked under her with her chin on her knee. She looked tangled up but made it look comfy, almost enough to convince James that if he put himself in the same position he would be just as comfortable. 

“You look lost.” His voice startled her, causing her to jolt a little. “Sorry, didn’t mean to scare ya.”

“Oh… no, no you’re all good. Sorry.” Y/N repositioned herself and let her painted nail trace the rim of her mug, her eyes became unfocused again as she stared into the dark liquid. 

“No need to apologize, love.” James walked to the stove where the kettle sat and turned it on again. The pet name that slipped from his lips went unnoticed by him but caught Y/N’s attention, though she wouldn’t mention it.

“What’re you doing up?” Y/N asked quietly, allowing him to take her cup and dump the cold tea.

“Couldn’t sleep. Why are you up?”

“Same reason apparently.” 

James hummed, putting a new tea bag in her mug while pulling out a mug for himself and doing the same. Y/N had finally realized that he was making her a new cup of tea and straightened up. “You don’t have to do that.”

“It’s no problem, your cup had already gone cold. Unless you didn’t want another one…” James trailed off.

“No, I do,” Y/N spoke quietly, wringing her fingers together mindlessly. “Thank you.”

“You’re welcome.”

James placed the freshly made cup of tea in front of Y/N, the steam curling up in soft, lazy tendrils. He gave her a small smile before settling into the chair opposite her, his own tea cradled in his hands. The kitchen was quiet, the kind of quiet that felt heavy but not quite unwelcome. James found it oddly comforting.

“So,” he began, his voice cutting through the silence but not in a harsh way, “what’s on your mind? What’s keeping you up?”

Y/N blinked, surprised by the direct question, but then again she shouldn’t have been surprised. “Oh… just stuff,” she said vaguely, her fingers fidgeting with the mug.

James tilted his head, studying her carefully. “You’re not very descriptive, are you?”

A small smile tugged at the corner of her lips, but she kept her gaze down. “Just… everything, I guess. The war, Regulus, Sirius, m-my parents…” Her voice faltered, and she shrugged as though it wasn’t a big deal, though the weight of her words said otherwise. 

James nodded, his brow furrowing. “That’s a lot to carry all alone.”

Y/N shrugged again, still not meeting his eyes. “I’m used to it by now.”

“Doesn’t mean you have to do it alone.” His voice was soft but firm, and Y/N finally glanced up at him. There was something in his expression-–an openness, a warmth—that made her chest feel a little lighter, even if just for a fleeting moment.

“Yeah, well,” she said, trying to shrug off the vulnerability creeping in, “not much of a choice these days, is there?”

James didn’t press her, sensing she wasn’t ready to share more. Instead, he smiled, raising his mug. “Here’s to sleepless nights in the Potter kitchen. At least we’re not alone in our misery.”

That coaxed a small laugh from Y/N, a sound James found himself wanting to hear more often. “Cheers to that,” she said, clinking her mug against his softly.

~

Over the next few days, James found himself seeking Y/N out more often. Whether it was helping her brew potions for the Order, get ready to go to a Deatheatter meeting, or simply sitting with her in the living room while she read. He couldn’t seem to stay away. He liked the way her face softened when she was deep in thought, the way her laugh—when she let it out—filled the room like sunlight, a drastic contrast to her usual persona.

Y/N, on her part, was equally drawn to James. She hadn’t expected him to be so kind, so patient. She’s always known him as Sirius’ blood-traitor best friend, the one who was always laughing and causing trouble. But the day he found her crying in the hallway changed her perspective entirely. But this James added to her changed perspective. This James, the one who brought her tea without asking and listened without interrupting, was someone she found herself wanting to know better.

One evening, they were sitting on the porch steps, watching the sun dip below the horizon. The air was cool, and Y/N had wrapped herself in a blanket. James had brought out two mugs of hot cocoa, handing one to her without a word. 

“You’re really good at this, you know,” she said after a long silence.

James raised an eyebrow. “Good at what?”

“This,” she gestured between them and around them. “Making people feel… safe.”

He chuckled softly, rubbing the back of his neck. “I think that’s just you, Y/N. You make it easy.”

Her cheeks flushed, and she looked away, hiding her smile behind the rim of her mug. “Don’t be ridiculous,” she muttered, though there was no usual bite to her words. “You’ve taken care of Sirius for years now and have made him feel safe. Even Regulus feels safe now.” She trailed off, “Well, as safe as we could be.”

James hummed and stayed silent.

As safe as they could be.

~

It was Sirius who noticed first.

He walked into the kitchen one afternoon to find James and Y/N sitting close together at the counter, their heads bent over a piece of parchment. James was explaining something, his hand occasionally brushing against hers as he pointed to the page. Y/N didn’t pull away, her face lit up with one of the rare smiles Sirius hadn’t seen in such a long time.

“Oh, this is interesting,” Sirius drawled, crossing his arms and leaning against the doorframe.

James and Y/N both looked up, their expressions a mix of guilt and annoyance. “What do you want, Sirius?” Y/N asked, rolling her eyes.

“Nothing,” he said, grinning. “Just enjoying the view. You two look cozy.”

“Bugger off,” James muttered, though his ears turned red.

Sirius’s grin widened. “Alright, alright. Don’t let me interrupt your... working.”

As Sirius left, Y/N groaned, burying her face in her hands. “He’s never going to let this go.”

James laughed, reaching out to gently nudge her arm. “Let him have his fun. It’s not so bad, is it?”

Y/N peeked at him through her fingers, her lips twitching into a reluctant smile. “I suppose not.”

[rory-multifandom-mess]

I mentioned this au in the tags of a post like… Yesterday I think I don’t remember. Anyway.

In this AU, Thad’s universe had a bad ending, aka Solver managed to wipe out the whole universe.

Before the finale, Thad located this time machine thingy that looked like DD ships and taught himself to work it. During the finale, after Lizzy, Khan, and Nori died, Thad, V, N, and Uzi realized there was no winning. They started to flee toward the pod, fighting off solver; V gets killed on the way, but Uzi, N, and Thad make it to the pod. N and Uzi then realize that no one would make it out alive if they went with Thad. So while they were arguing, Uzi shoved her jacket and N’s hat logo at Thad, which shoved him in.

Thad stumbles back with a yelp, hitting his elbow on the emergency start button. The door slams and he panics, rushing forward and slamming his fists on the door, screaming and begging for them to come with him, to please don’t do this!

They turn back to him and smile. N starts to tear up. Uzi’s visor changes to text. “Survive. For us.” N’s visor also changes to text. “We’re sorry. And we’ll miss you.”

Thad begs, but the pod shakes, falling into his back as it takes off. He scrambles to his feet again, looking down at them.

He watches as Cynessa lunges at them and they’re consumed by dust. He sees oil splatter and heads fly. Yellow tendrils shoot out of the core of Copper 9 and at him. Moments before it reaches the pod, the pod enters hyperdrive, which knocks him out.

When he wakes up again, he tries to use the pod to go back to his universe, but it gives him an error message.

[[:Error: Universe Unavailable. We are sorry.]]

Yeah he’s not ok.

Anyway, all of that was 3 years ago. Here’s some extra info about the AU under the cut!

- He occasionally visits the og Universe, partly to rummage for scrap metal, partly to make sure it’s still healthy (if something bad happens to it, there goes the rest of the universes) and partly to hang with Uzi, V, and N. He physically cannot go near Lizzy because he will have a breakdown

- Hanging with the gang kind of hurts his heart but he’s coping it’s ok

- V and Uzi don’t fully trust him which also hurts but he fully understands it

- He taught himself a lot of skills like mechanics, engineering, coding, and some quantum physics, etc so he could repair himself and the pod

- Obviously, he goes around the universes saving others from total destruction like his, even if it does obstruct things. Moral dilemma pov u know how it is

- Oh also his upgrades make him 5’1

-=-=-=-=-=-

Here’s Uzi’s og design in the universe Thad is from

I was gonna draw V, Lizzy, and N’s lil design differences but i don’t have the motivation anymore, so I’ll write them.

TT! Thad’s OG Universe - SD-V

- Has the original red bandana/scarf from her concept art

- Permanent glasses

- Hair is longer, tied into a spikey bun

- “Fingerless gloves” on her normal drone hands

- Shorts, like the ones she wore in episode 4, except black and permanent

TT! Thad’s OG Universe - SD-N

- Back of hair looks more like a mullet cause it’s longer

- White T-shirt under jacket

- Gave the pilot hat logo to Uzi so she can put it on her beanie (i forgot to add that to her ref)

- Snaggleteeths

- Pilot “coat” thingy is slightly longer like a trench coat

TT! Thad’s OG Universe - Lizzy

- Instead of her hair all being up in a ponytail, she has a half up, half down look, and her ponytail isn’t as long. Medium length hair girlie

- Jacket that she wears off her shoulders so they rest around her elbows

- Streaks of pink in her hair

- Tights. don’t ask me how that works

- Obvious eyelashes added to her eyelights

- Not a physical change, but she’s slightly smarter than canon Lizzy. When she got Thad between Episodes 6 and 7, she gave him her hair ribbon, because she knew he is far more agile than she is. And she was right.

Uuuuh. Kay that’s it. send asks with questions if you have any. Yes you can draw stuff for this/draw the designs. I don’t have the motivation </3

[softpascalito]

I To Dig a Grave I Chapter 5 I

Summary: Twenty-one years after the outbreak, you come to Wyoming looking for something and end up in Jackson after a stranger saves your life.

But he doesn't stay a stranger.

Turns out Joel Miller is looking for something too. It feels like a fresh start. But when bad luck seems to follow you, Joel is the only one to turn to, forcing both of you to confront your feelings about your pasts- and each other.

Pairing: Joel Miller x F!Reader Rating: Explicit / MDNI Word count: 20k+ Tags: Hurt/Comfort, Angst, Friends to Lovers, Slow Burn, Age Difference, Smut, Explicit Content, Grief/Mourning, Mental Health Issues, Canon-Typical Violence, Chose not to use Archive Warnings, Tags to be added

AO3 LINK // Series Masterlist // Playlist

notes: between writing this and the voice memo of pedro on omars new album? im in the trenches. sending all of you lots of smooches for the recent comments and feedback, please know that i do a lil jump every time i see someone has commented <3

this fic will deal with heavy topics. please note that it doesn't use archive warnings and tags will be added as we go in order to avoid spoilers. each chapter will have detailed warnings in the end notes on ao3.

Chapter 5 – The Wake

‘I don’t mind so much being haunted by a dead ghost, but I resent like hell being haunted by a half-dead one.’ — J.D.Salinger, Franny and Zooey

The typewriter is fixed by the time you get up. But before you can sit down and ponder how to begin your speech, Joel forces you downstairs for some breakfast. He has somehow gotten his hands on orange juice and refuses to let you leave the table before you’ve had two glasses and some toast.

Eventually, he clears his throat. “We could grab some of your stuff today, if you want.” He pauses for a moment, searching your face. “Or I could, if you prefer to—if you’d rather stay here.”

The thought of going back home seems unbearable. The thought of Joel leaving you alone seems almost as bad.

“Can’t we do that tomorrow? I’d rather—I want to finish the speech. And we’re leaving in a bit.”

“Okay,” Joel mumbles. “Okay, yeah, we can do it some other time.”

You both head back into his workshop upstairs afterwards. He’s laid out some paper and pulled up a more comfortable chair for you. He settles down on his own and watches as you hesitantly begin to type, occasionally glancing out of the window. It’s begun to snow again, the thick flakes drifting against the other side of the glass and beginning to pile up on the windowsill below.

“If it keeps snowing like that, they won’t be able to prepare the grave, will they?”

Joel stares at the book that's spread out in front of him, determined not to let your eyes meet.

“I’m sure they’ll figure it out.”

They're not the words he should be saying. But they are the only ones able to push past his throat and flow into the open.

***

“Watch out for the steps, they’re frozen over.” Joel closes the front door behind himself, taking his first breath of cold air. It’s still snowing and he watches as the first flakes settle on your coat. He hurriedly pushes his gloves onto his hands and follows you down the small flight of stairs that leads to the street.

You place your feet carefully, partly because you would not find slipping and landing on your butt entertaining and partly because your body feels like it belongs to someone else again. You automatically turn to your left but Joel catches your arm before you can begin to move down the street. He jerks his head to the street ahead of you instead, the one that follows along the walls of the graveyard. They seem to have gotten much taller than they were a few days ago.

“We can get to the church through here,” Joel says, his hand squeezing your arm before he lets it go. “Less people.”

“Good point,” you agree quietly and begin moving again, this time across the street and past the green house on the corner. Joel follows your lead, putting himself between you and the graveyard, his broad form shielding you from view.

Which is a stupid thought, you think after a few moments. It's not you he is trying to hide. You are the one he's hiding something from.

You slow down a little, making Joel glance back at you. As his hand nudges yours again, you notice that his gloves are the same ones he wore when you met. A little more worn down maybe, but still the same leather, the same shade of brown. And here he is, still saving you, even if in a completely different way.

“Come on. We’ll be late.” Joel pulls on your hand lightly and you begin walking again. You don’t let go of his hand though. He doesn’t mention it.

When you pass the large metal gate that opens to the cemetery, you automatically turn your head. “It’d be quicker through here.”

Joel's head swirls around at that. “No.” You almost think you feel a slight tremor in his hand as he shakes his head. “I think it's better if we stay on the street for now.”

His hand is still in yours so you don’t find it in yourselves to argue, even if you find the cemetery quite beautiful. It feels less like a cemetery and more like a small park, with high trees and benches, a small oasis from the occasionally busy life in Jackson.

You can’t really tell if you’ll still find it beautiful once Lane's name will be carved into one of the headstones.

The two of you walk in silence for the remainder of the way. As you reach the far end of the church and when your gaze moves past the library shed tucked away to the side of it, you make a mental note to check in there once you’re done. You try and distract yourself by keeping your eyes on it, thinking about which books you could take home to pass the time with, trying to make a mental list.

But as soon as you step over the holy threshold, you can’t name a single one. The scent of burned down candles and wood greets you.

“I think I may pass out.”

Joel instantly switches his hands, wrapping his free arm around you, no doubt ready to catch you if your knees do give out. “Like right now?”

“No, I—I've just—never done this before,” you choke out. You’ve seen Infected and bodies and funerals. But there’s never been a wake. People just die and rot in this world. 

You suddenly feel like you want to cry and desperately try to pull yourself together. If this is the last chance to say goodbye, you want to do it with grace and you want to do it right. For Lane’s sake.

You take a shaky step forward and Joel takes the hint, moving you further down the hallway and stopping in front of a door to the left that is slightly ajar. His arm is still around you, his hand resting in yours.

“Want me to wait here?” His voice is low.

“Is she in there?” Your voice is equally quiet, matching the somber atmosphere around you.

Joel takes in your features for a moment before giving a slow nod. “Yeah. Yeah, she’s in there.”

“Can we go in together?”

You are certain you do come near to passing out when you step into the room, pressing your body against Joel’s, unconsciously using him as a shield. There is a small table full of candles to your left, a stained glass window half covered by snow at the far end of the room and two mismatched chairs to the right.

You do not see any of it. The second the door opens, your eyes are on her.

She’s bedded in a wooden coffin with white sheets. Her skin is almost as pale. The stark contrast that draws your eyes in is her hair. Ocean blue, the tips already losing their color.

Joel looks down at you, carefully and slowly disentangling himself from you. “Would you like a moment alone?” The small nod is all he needs to see, squeezing your hand once more before heading back outside, leaving the door ajar.

It suddenly strikes you how still she is. A body, usually so full of life, decorated by countless miniscule motions. The corners of her lips turning upward, the anxious turning of the silver rings on her fingers, a strand of hair falling into her face.

You move closer. You sit next to her. You stroke her cheek. She looks like she’s sleeping very deeply.

Joel lets out an involuntary sigh as he steps back out into the hallway. They managed to get the blood out of her hair, covered the right side of her head with a pillow. It almost looked comfortable. And he feels like he can breathe again. It’s a much better sight than the one in the cabin. You shouldn't have to remember her wounds. Only her face.

But he finds that he’s glad to get a moment alone. Because unlike you, he knows exactly what her temple looks like under the dainty, white pillow.

He sits down on one of the wooden benches lining the hallway, making sure to keep his movements quiet. Not because there is an enemy around. But because the wooden structure around him takes him right back.

He hasn’t been to a service in forever, not even before the outbreak. But the high ceiling and the stagnant air still make him automatically lower his voice, making him feel like he’s all of eight years old again and dressed for Sunday service with his parents somewhere just outside of Austin.

He hasn’t had time to consider how to do this, a small voice in the back of his head says. He hasn’t considered how the hell he will get you through this in one piece, if he is the one that should be doing so. There is so much baggage in him, tucked away into the dusty corners of his house, that he’s surprised you haven’t found it yet.

He stares at the floor and wonders if it had been easier for him to move on if he’d been able to say goodbye in a pretty room, surrounded by candles and lacy pillows, with high ceilings above. And for a split moment, he allows himself to imagine the hair resting on white sheets not to be blue but dark brown and curly.

Joel is leaning against the wall of the hallway when you finally emerge from the room, managing a weak smile. He stays quiet as you step towards him, raising your arms to sneak them around his body while you bury your face in his chest.

You can feel the exhale of his lungs below you as he sighs, bringing his arms around you and pulling you into him.

It comes so naturally now. The way he rests his chin on the top of your head, your hair tickling his graying beard. The feeling of your face pressed tightly into him, clearly having found a place where you can hide from the questions you already know people are asking.

Joel's hand caresses your back in gentle motions. His voice remains as quiet as it was earlier. “Did you say goodbye, darlin’?”

“Yeah,” you mumble into his chest, giving a shaky nod. “Yeah, I did.”

“Wanna take a break and go back in? Or come back later?” he offers quietly. He knows exactly how hard it is to let go—to walk away from the last piece that they leave behind when they leave the earth. The body holds so many memories.

“No, I think—I think it’s okay.” Hot tears have gathered in your eyes and threaten to spill into Joel's shirt. “I think I said goodbye.”

Joel quietly coos at you for a few more moments before he begins leading you back outside. He’s content to leave the church behind that feels so laden with bad memories despite it holding none.

You're just leaving the small hallway and passing back through the church when he abruptly moves you to his side, putting a small amount of distance between you. His arm is still wrapped around your waist but it's less strong, merely enough support to keep you from falling back.

“Oh. Hello, you two.”

Your breath hitches in your throat as you stare at the woman in front of you. She has short hair that's tied in a neat bun. The lines and wrinkles on her face seem to have increased rapidly since you have last seen her. She's wrapped in her black winter coat, one that is slightly too big for her small frame and almost reaches her knees. You realize that all her clothes are, in fact, black, even if some are slightly faded.

You feel Joel shift again beside you. “Ma’am.”

With a quick motion of your free hand, you wipe your eyes. It feels silly to be crying in front of her. You’ve lost a best friend.

She has lost a daughter.

“Mrs Moss, I’m so sorry—I meant to come by, I swear,” you blurt out, hoping that you sound as honest as you are. The tears threaten to come back.

“It’s quite alright, dear. I know it can’t have been easy for you,” she says gracefully. “And it’s Deborah, I’ve told you before. Eleanor’s friends are—” For a split moment, you can see something twinkling in her eyes before she corrects herself, carrying on as if nothing happened. “Eleanor’s friends were always welcome in my house.”

Your heart feels like it’s stopped. Eleanor. You almost forgot that Lane wasn’t her real name, despite it feeling more real than Eleanor ever has. You try and remember the story behind it and you’re certain it had something to do with her grandmother but you can’t recall the entire thing. You make a point not to ask.

The woman in front of you stays quiet. Her eyes wander between you and Joel for a moment, sending a completely different kind of discomfort through your body.

“Well, I’d like to go inside now,” Mrs Moss announces quietly and Joel and you shift to the side to let her pass. She gives you another sad smile in passing. “You’ll be there for the ceremony, won’t you? Eugene came by this morning. They are clearing the receiving vault out today.”

Joel tenses next to you, his grip getting a tiny bit tighter. You just stare blankly at the woman in front of you. “Receiving vault?”

You bite down on the inner side of your cheek.

“Oh, it’s what they call that small building. Of course, once spring comes around, we’ll bury her properly.”

Mrs Moss does not seem to realize what she has just set into motion or that all of these details were complete news to you. She gives Joel a small, polite nod and continues down the hall.

The taste of blood fills your mouth.

You don’t hold hands on the way back.

***

You brush past Joel the instant he opens the door and, while he is still stripping off his gloves, hurry into the small bathroom at the end of the hall. It’s rarely used and has become more of a makeshift storage room if you’re being honest. A few plastic containers are piled up next to the sink and you squeeze around them before letting your tired body sink onto the toilet lid.

You can hear Joel hesitate in the hall, his heavy boots on the wooden floors audible through the thin door. You can't see the way his face is scrunched up in worry—and guilt. The guilt that threatens to swallow him whole as he briefly glances at the small cupboard under the stairs, one of the few that is locked. He knows you won’t check there.

With a small sigh, he follows down the hall, hesitating in front of the bathroom door. He leans against the doorframe, his gaze fixed on the floor.

“I meant to tell you.”

No reply comes. But he can hear your breath, the small squeak of your shoes as you move your feet on the toilet seat. You’re pressing them to your chest as tightly as you can.

She won’t be buried. She will be stored in the back of some shed like something you plan to forget.

“If I’d known she’d be there—” Joel shakes his head despite knowing that you can’t see him. His hand flies to his face, pinching his nose as he closes his eyes, trying to find the right words to make you understand that he needs to do this, that this is his job. He’s supposed to protect you. And he failed miserably, letting you walk right into Lane’s mum with no clue about the arrangements.

“I would’ve told you in time. I swear.”

The hand leaves his face and instead gravitates towards the doorknob. He pauses for a moment, the metal cool under his touch. “Honey, can I please come in?”

“Fine,” you press out, keeping your gaze fixed on the plastic containers below. You don’t want to look at him. Mainly, you don’t want him to look at you.

Joel gets to his knees, unable to suppress the small groan as he does so. He hesitantly reaches out to place a hand on your knee, squeezing a little. “I’m sorry I didn’t tell you before. I thought it was—not the right moment.”

“Okay.” You nod, determined to punish him with as many one-worded sentences as you can. Today has been one bad surprise after another and it’s entirely his fault—except you know that’s not true. But you’re not ready to place the blame on the person who may deserve it—you’re not ready to think of Lane with anything but fondness and longing. And maybe, a tiny part of you pipes up, one that you’d much prefer to be quiet, maybe you know that Joel will take the blame if you place it upon him, that he would proudly carry your hate like a crown and still let you eat his food and still let you sleep in his bed.

Your eyes meet his and he looks so miserable, broad shoulders still wrapped in his winter coat, his hair slightly wet from the melted snow and his eyes. His eyes, begging, asking to be forgiven.

The thoughts of blame and hate are gone in an instant. Instead, the tears that you didn’t allow to come in the church and all the way back home, finally spring up in your eyes.

“I didn’t think—when that man died last year in the winter—” you choke out, the thoughts forcing their way into the tiny bathroom. “They buried him, he got a grave—”

Joel brings his free hand up to your face just in time to catch the first tear rolling down your cheek and wiping it away, his calloused hand smoothing over your skin.

“Darlin’, he was sick. You know that, right?” Joel keeps his voice low and soft and his motions slow. Like he is approaching a sick animal, trying not to startle it.

You didn’t know that he’d been sick, to be truthful. But you also don’t see how that made a difference.

It’s almost like Joel can read your mind. He tilts his head a bit. “They knew he was gonna pass, sooner or later. They dug his grave in the fall.”

You can’t help the sob that escapes you at that. Because it’s a horrible, horrible thing, digging a grave for someone who is still alive. And because it’s a horrible, horrible thing to not be able to.

“No one dug—'' You think you feel snot running down your face. “We didn’t know—No one dug a grave for Lane—”

“Yeah,” Joel agrees quietly, his voice filled with a heaviness. “No one dug a grave for Lane.”

No one knew she’d need one.

Joel lets you cry, even when his knees are screaming at him to get off the bathroom tiles. He pats your arm and wipes your tears. He doesn’t try to cheer you up or make you see the bright side or, worst of all, tries and tell you that Lane is a better place. You both know her place was here.

He lets you wear yourself out from crying before he asks if you want a bath and, following a shy nod, scoops you up in his arms and carries you upstairs into the bathroom, the one you actually use.

The small moment of hesitation after he’s set you down on the edge of the tub is his way of asking for permission. You give a tired nod.

He lets you undress and climb into the tub while he begins to heat the water, insisting on placing a towel below you so that the porcelain won’t be too cold on your skin.

It doesn’t take long until the air in the room is comfortably warm and steamy and the faint smell of jasmine and cotton fills the air, replacing the lingering one of old buildings and grief. You feel like you’re transported back to the first time you were curled up in Joel Miller's bathtub, the first day you’ve ever spent in Jackson.

“Lean a little to the side,” he instructs quietly, lathering the top of your head with the shampoo and working it into your hair. His fingers are scratching circles into your skin, making you feel like he’s washing off all the things you’d like to see disappear down the drain. The sorrow and the pain. You don’t touch the guilt yet.

“Do you remember the last time you did this?” you mumble and hear Joel hum behind you as you continue. “I wouldn’t let you cut my hair.”

“You also called me an asshole.” You are glad your head is slightly lowered so that Joel can’t see you smile. Then again, you have a feeling he knows.

“Yeah, I guess I did.”

His fingers work around your head, gently tilting it into whatever direction he needs to reach every part of it. He surprises himself when he speaks up.

“You know what you looked like?” Your head perks up slightly at that, attempting to turn around but Joel guides your head back with a gentle motion. Because he doesn't want shampoo to get into your eyes. Definitely not because turning around would mean seeing—

“Tell me,” you insist, despite keeping your gaze forward now.

“No, nevermind, it’s—it’s silly.” He tries to brush you off but you aren’t having it.

“Joel. Come on. Please?”

He can see you’re on the verge of turning around again and reckons it’ll be easier to just answer your question instead of having to deal with all the thoughts he is so successfully pushing away.

“You looked like a fawn. Curled up, trembling. Waiting on someone.” “I wasn’t waiting on anyone.”

“I know you weren’t.”

You sit in comfortable silence, tilting your head back as Joel pours warm water over your head. He steps back into the bedroom to grab some fresh clothes, leaving you to wash your skin and dry off by yourself.

“They’re not much but they should do until we get some of yours,” Joel mutters as he hands you one of his worn shirts. You pull it over your head, each part of it a bit too big on your body. The collar is draped slightly to one side, making your soft skin peek out from under the fabric.

Joel smiles weakly, trying so hard to avert his gaze. But not enough to miss you struggling with your hair, attempting to pull the still wet strands into a bun.

“C’mere,” he instructs, taking another step towards you and reaching around your head to take the hair tie from your hands and carefully gathering all your hair in his right fist. You’re left there without distraction, without anything to do except stare up at him, so close that you can make out the gray hairs in his beard and the small scar that decorates his nose.

“There we are,” Joel mutters, securing the hair tie before hesitating for another moment as his gaze shifts down to your face, your eyes meeting.

He’s looked at you hundreds of times. So he’s not sure why, at this moment, his lungs suddenly seem to stop working, drowning in the softness of your eyes that seem to be completely focused on him. For a split second, he thinks he sees your gaze flicker downwards.

One of his hands finds a strand that escaped his grip before and he tucks it behind your ear, his eyes never leaving yours.

“You still look like that sometimes.”

He is so close. If one of you leaned just a tiny bit forward—

The moment is over as suddenly as it appeared. Joel drops his hands a little too quickly to be casual about it, taking two steps back. Like he’s gotten too close to something dangerous.

But you're not dangerous, a small voice in the back of his head says. You’re just a fawn.

He cannot touch you. He is certain of one thing: He would find a way to ruin you.

***

A few months ago, being back in Joel’s bathroom would've been your favorite thing in the world. And it’s still good and comforting. But it’s not the same.

You give yourself to brief illusions. That this is your first day in Jackson, that you don’t know anything about the man beside you except his name and that he carries his gun in the back of his jeans. That you will be taken to your new home in a few days and meet your roommate, the one with blue hair you’ve already spotted around town.

But you know it won’t happen. You had another shot at life here, the chance to do and say all the right things this time. And you failed.

You can feel the mattress dip beside you as Joel crawls under the thick covers. It’s nice to feel the heat of his body next to yours, to feel him shelter you with what he can. He sleeps on the side that is closest to the bedroom door, leaving you tucked away to the more closed off one.

But it never makes you feel trapped. Quite the opposite. Anyone who hopes to reach you will have to pass by him. You wish that grief too could be politely turned away or chased off with a drawn gun. But it seeps through the cracks of the old wooden house, drifting through the hallways, spreading its arms and placing itself right on your chest.

The thin curtains are drawn but you can still see the faint shimmer of the snow that’s stacked up outside, reflecting the lights of the few lamp posts that line Rancher Street. You move your head just enough to be able to stare at the silhouette of the window, wondering if any of the candles next to Lane are still burning or if she’s already shut away in the receiving vault, without any light at all.

Joel sighs softly beside you, his gaze following yours and lingering there for a few moments. “Want to talk about it?”

You both know what but you still find it an odd question. You do talk to him about Lane, more than anyone else even. He’s not touching you and something tells you that it has to do with what happened in the bathroom before. Just that nothing actually happened, you tell yourself. But you don’t dare to bring that up. Defense is better.

“Talk about what?”

“About whatever is keeping you from closing your eyes,” he mumbles quietly, his eyes back on you. “I know it ain’t easy but you need a few hours of sleep at least.”

“She’s there when I close my eyes,” you whisper into the quiet room, tensing slightly at just the idea of it. Of her. You don’t understand how something you love so much can feel so unwelcome in your head.

“I didn’t know you had bad dreams,” Joel muses quietly.

“It’s not that. But she must feel so alone. And confused,” you whisper, curling up a little more into yourself, as if that will protect you from the images that keep forcing themselves to the front of your mind.

“Honey, she’s not—she doesn’t feel those things anymore, okay?” Joel sighs beside you, hesitating for a small moment before reaching out and lightly rubbing your shoulder. “I promise it’ll get better once you get the ceremony over with.”

You both stay quiet for a few moments, both thinking about graves and funerals and those you’ve lost. There are so many you’ve lost.

“Can I ask you a question?” you pipe up, your voice trembling a tiny bit. You’ve never outright asked him—only taken what information he gave willingly, which was very little.

“If you promise to try and sleep after.” Joel chuckles quietly, leaning back into the pillows. The small laughter dies on his lips as he hears your question.

“Did you have a funeral for her?”

The small intake of breath to your right tells you he didn’t expect this. You immediately feel your stomach give a lurch as you sit up slightly. “Sorry, you don’t—I shouldn’t have brought it up—”

“No.” Somehow, despite his voice being very quiet and low, it’s strong enough to make you fall silent in an instant. You bite your lip as you try and make out Joel’s face but it’s too dark to do so without moving closer and you’re afraid that one more misstep will have him either running off or throwing you out of the house.

“It all happened very fast, with Sarah.” His voice quivers a tiny bit as he says her name. “We were lucky to make it out at all. Tommy took—He got us out.”

Maybe it’s your tired mind playing tricks on you, but Joel doesn’t sound like he feels very lucky about having made it out. You can’t blame him. Some part of you, too, feels like you should have been with her, in that cabin. Should be with her in the vault. That there should be two graves waiting to be dug instead of one.

“I’m sorry,” you whisper, again, because apparently you are not good at finding the right words and you feel just like you did in front of Mrs Moss earlier today, just that this is Joel and that is precisely what makes it so much more difficult and so much worse.

“It was a long time ago,” is all he says.

To your surprise, the quiet that follows is not uncomfortable. Maybe because he feels that you understand, at least partly. Or maybe you’re just two very tired people, glad to have each other to hold on to.

After a few minutes, you can feel him turn towards you in the dark, opening his body up so that you can shift a bit closer, the excuse about the night being so incredibly cold dying on your lips when you feel how readily Joel wraps his arm around you, pulling you into him. You press your face into his chest, taking a deep breath that actually makes you feel like breathing comes a little easier. Your hands sneak around him, holding on. Always holding on.

A small sigh leaves Joel’s throat, his voice so low you can barely hear it.

“Let’s get some sleep, little fawn.”

thank you very much for reading! if you like this fic, please consider supporting me by rebloggin or liking or whichever buttons you prefer to press <3 if you have any feedback, it is also very welcome!

[rosolind]

HI ROSO what if you did KWW. what if you wrote them. maybe hurt/comfort :3? idk just them = <3 I know you agree

HI FAIRY

ur requested fic’s under the cut!! i hope u enjoy!! ^_^

Kenadian’s boots scraped against stone as he paced back and forth, the flickering light from the furnace casting jagged shadows on the walls. His breaths came fast, shallow, the weight of everything suffocating him. Across the room, Wato sat cross-legged, carefully bandaging Wifies’s hand. Blood stained the gauze. Not much, but enough to make Ken’s throat tighten.

“You’re not careful enough,” Ken snapped, voice cracking. He didn’t even look at them. “You’re going to get yourself killed one day, and then—” He cut himself off, fists clenching.

Wato glanced up from their work, brow furrowed. “Ken.” Their voice was gentle, but firm. “You’re not helping.”

Ken stopped pacing but didn’t turn around. He stood stiff as a plank, trembling with a storm he couldn’t contain. “I told you not to split up. I told you it was dangerous.”

“And I heard you,” Wifies said quietly. His voice was steady, even as pain lined his features. “But someone had to check the west wing. If I hadn’t, we wouldn’t have found the supplies.”

Ken spun around. “Supplies? Supplies don’t matter if you’re dead, Wifies!” His voice echoed, sharp as flint.

Wato sighed, finishing the bandage with a careful knot. “Ken, sit down before you wear a trench into the floor.”

For a moment, Ken just stared at them, chest heaving, jaw tight. Then, reluctantly, he sank onto the edge of a battered crate. His head dropped into his hands. “I can’t lose either of you,” he whispered, barely audible.

The silence that followed was heavy, broken only by the soft crackle of the furnace.

Wato moved first, crossing the room to sit beside Ken. They didn’t say anything at first, just leaned their shoulder against his. A grounding presence.

“You’re not going to lose us,” Wato said after a long moment. Their voice was soft, steady, like the hum of the earth itself. “We’re still here. Right now, we’re here.”

Ken’s hands tightened in his hair. “You don’t know that. This place—this whole thing—it’s a death trap. And every time we go out there, I feel like I’m waiting for the other shoe to drop.”

Wifies shifted, standing carefully. He crossed to where Ken sat, his steps slow but deliberate. “Ken.” His voice drew Ken’s attention. When their eyes met, Wifies crouched in front of him, ignoring the dull throb in his injured hand. “I get it. I do. But if you keep spiraling like this, you’re going to break yourself apart. And then who’s going to keep us together?”

Ken’s breath hitched. “I’m not enough to keep anyone together.”

“That’s not true,” Wato interjected. “You’re the one who gets us moving when things fall apart. You care, Ken. Too much, maybe, but that’s why we trust you.”

Wifies nodded. “We’re a team. If one of us falls, the others will pull them back. That includes you.”

Ken stared at the floor, his shoulders trembling. For a long while, he didn’t say anything. Then, slowly, he let out a shaky breath. “I just… I can’t lose you two,” he said again, quieter this time.

Wato leaned against him a little more, their warmth solid and real. “We know.”

“And we’re not planning on going anywhere,” Wifies added, reaching out to rest his good hand lightly on Ken’s knee. “Not if we can help it.”

Ken let out a choked laugh, somewhere between bitter and relieved. “You’d better not. I don’t think I could survive alone with this guy.” He nudged Wato, the tiniest hint of a smirk breaking through his stormy expression.

Wato rolled their eyes, but the corner of their mouth quirked up. “Please. You’d be begging for my company after a day.”

The tension in the room eased, just a little. Enough for the three of them to breathe again.

“We’ll get through this,” Wato said, their voice soft but certain. “Together.”

Ken nodded, finally letting himself lean into the support they offered. For the first time that day, the crushing weight on his chest didn’t feel quite so suffocating.

[riacte]

“hold the line,” a familiar pfp on your dashboard declares. it’s a mutual. you don’t remember when you’ve followed them, you don’t remember when they’ve followed you, because they’ve always been there. you know their blorbo through osmosis, you know who they’ll campaign for. it’s a constant in mcytblr.

“hold the line,” you echo back, fingers trembling as you press the reddit app and carefully place a pixel. kermitcraft is now back to hermitcraft. good grief. the joke stopped being funny ages ago.

“vote for quackity!” “let’s go quackity let’s go!” you go back to tumblr. it’s 50/50. you watch with dazed eyes as the numbers change— 200, 45, 19, 8. they mean nothing, they mean everything. the thin line between grian and quackity fluctuates. your heart thumps, tense and anxious.

“hold the line!”

a ping from your discord, from your comrades in the r/hermitcraft server. not the lime green gme line starting up shit again. with a resigned sigh, you push the gme pixels back to their side.

“hold the line!”

the joehills stans are back. you voted for him in the first hour. you dutifully reblog the propaganda posts anyway. joe has lime green glasses. the gme line is lime green. refresh the stats page. still 50/50. hold the line.

“hold the line!”

oh god, not rogues on r/place. “please,” someone sobs, “we need to maintain peace with our biggest ally brasil.” we cannot afford another crisis. we must remain diplomatic. “HOLD THE LINE!” you blare into your microphone with a resounding @/everyone discord ping. we’ve got to keep our own people in check.

“hold the line!”

scar and techno’s fandoms are rallying. 20k votes, 30k votes, 40k votes. they rise to dizzying heights. another 50/50. there’s a spreadsheet. there’s fanart. there’s fanfic. your dash is in chaos. hold the line.

“hold the line!”

not the reddit void attacking, it creeps over and suffocates your pixels. regroup, rebuild, reapply the blush. it’s day three on r/place and it feels like forever. you’re obsessed. you’re getting too attached.

“hold the line!”

it’s the final minute. grian and quackity are trembling. messages fly by in your discord server as the countdown truly begins. it’s a reverse sweep, an underdog down to the very last second. we are in the metaphorical trenches. honourable allies, honourable enemies.

“hold the line!”

the gme line is our friend now, helping to maintain a sense of structure and stability after the void’s attack. the lime line is decorated with two nether portals. it’s cute. once upon a time, you hated those lime pixels. now, it’s your turn the place them.

“HOLD THE LINE!”

it comes from various people on your dash, text posts melting into one. time is ticking and running out. people are desperate jubilant relieved tense obsessed emotional joyous defeated victorious. we’ve lost track of the days and nights. new accounts flood in. they say the end is coming.

there’s a break.

the canvas expands again.

the fandom regroups.

there’s a break.

new colours are added, a beautiful collision of vibrancy.

(somewhere, someone posts their 8th picture of themselves as their sexyman campaign.)

(somewhere, someone adds a pixel of blush to a beloved mural.)

they say the end is coming. we’re exhausted, energised, exhilarated. so when someone says,

“hold the line—“

you hold onto it. grip onto it with your fingers, knuckles bleeding from countless cactus circles.

you hold the damn line.

[s-4pphics]

scent of the pine. 4 (e.w)

we back in this shit like we never left y’all 😳

wc;cw 10.7k ohhh not again, sistersbestfriend!ellie, guitarist/producer!ellie, violinist!oc, age gap(three years), all ocs r black coded <3, FLUFF i know shocker, but slight angst bc i’m devious like that🤭, domestic ellie with a cat, some crack :p, SMUT UH OHHH MDNI, dubcon(ellie is high), weed, sexual tension yall already knowww, thigh riding, fingering, eating out no restaurant, mult. orgasms, squirting, dirty talk, one pussy slap, overstim, ellie’s tongue is pierced yes that’s a warning lol, masturbation, more stunna girl promo someone pay me, this is cute tbh lol

“Your girlfriend is living lavish. GYYYAATTT— “ 

“Arya, can you please shut up! She’s not my girlfriend!” 

“No bitch, you needa shut the hell up! I drove you here and I will leave you!” 

You and an irritated Arya (she’s not herself when she’s hungry!) were parked outside of Ellie’s very… expensive looking apartment building. It looked like there were about thirty floors to it with lots of windows. You knew she had accumulated a following due to the reaction people had to her on New Year’s Eve, but you weren’t expecting her to be living like an actual celebrity. She was fucking rich, now. You couldn’t wrap your head around it. 

Arya must’ve noticed the nervous, intimidated look on your face as you gazed at the building because you immediately felt a soft hand on yours. “Hey, you’re gonna be fine. She seems more than willing to talk and apologize! I’m gonna be here the whole time and you come down when you’re ready, okay?” 

You looked over to your best friend—the light of your life—and nodded. You’ve never been so appreciative of someone before. She made you feel so calm—

“With that being said, just know if she says anything outta line, I’m telling your sister and we’re jumpin’ her ass, no question!” she said seriously before encouragingly slapping your thigh. “Go ‘head, love you.” 

“…Love you more.” She made you feel calm enough.

Your friends are so…. supportive!

You exited Arya’s car as you waved to her, her giving you two thumbs up in return. 

Here goes nothing. 

You took in the building as you entered…. this was some Michelin star shit! 

Marble floors, white walls edged with gold frames, women wrapped in trench coats with puppies in their purses! What the fuck is going on—

You were even starting to second guess your attire. You wore a simple black puffer, hoodie, and sweatpants. Should you have dressed… better? More presentable? You were starting to get a bit insecure. 

You pulled your phone out to distract yourself from second-guessing your appearance (or lack thereof!) and opened your texts with Ellie. You started typing. 

hey. i’m downstairs. 

You immediately saw her chat bubble pop up before her reply came through. 

cool i’ll be down in 2 mins 

You sighed a heavy sigh as you shut your phone off. Don’t overthink, you thought. You’re here to talk and that’s it! Nothing more, nothing less. 

Don’t lie, slut! 

Your brain hates you! It fucking hates you—!

Your train of thought immediately shut off as you saw Ellie walk out of the elevator. She looked so…warm. She had on a black beanie and sweatsuit, little marijuana fuzzy socks, and slippers. 

You missed seeing this side of her. So relaxed and comfortable. 

She walked over to you with a timid expression before finally muttering a hi, and you muttered one back. 

You could tell she was nervous: her thumbs were fidgeting, she wouldn’t look you in your eyes for too long, and she was licking at her slightly chapped lips. 

“We should, um… go upstairs?” She asked quietly, like speaking too loudly would frighten you. 

You only nodded gently. She nodded back before turning, leading you towards the elevators. 

You found out Ellie lived on the… nineteenth floor. What the fuck? Wasn’t the golden rule of apartments: the higher you are, the more expensive it is?! What the fuck was she doing up here?

“My place is down the hall,” she said over her shoulder. You took note of the shakiness in her voice. You’ve never seen her so skittish before. Was it because of you? 

She unlocked the third from the last door and opened it, allowing you entry. You took in her place and… holy fuck!

Her apartment… her loft was fucking immaculate!

Her living room was huge: plush, gray couch that was stocked with matching pillows, black and green rugs littering the floor, TV mounted on the wall, black glass coffee table, and her dual monitor setup (you see that black kitten ears headset! was she a fucking gamer?!). There were black details everywhere on the walls, floors, and spiral staircase that led into her bedroom what the fuck?! You could see where she slept… and you were still downstairs! 

And her fucking black marble kitchen! You were in love! You never cooked a day in your life, but you will gladly start now if it means you can stay in there forever! 

“Ellie, who the fuck are you?” you asked, shocked and dazed. 

She seemed to relax at your question as she softly chuckled, shyly looking down at her socked feet. 

“I’ll tell you everything you wanna know. Come sit with me.” She said, nodding towards her couch. It was slightly sunken in; she must’ve been napping there! You unlaced your boots and removed your coat, holding it in your hands. As you followed her towards the couch to sling your coat over the back, a soft jingle, followed by soft paddling on the floor caught you off guard. You turned to see a small, green-eyed Bombay cat next to the kitchen counter, curiously staring at you. 

You let out a gasp of excitement at the little baby before looking at a surprised Ellie, grabbing her wrist joyfully. 

“Ellie, oh my god! Why didn’t you tell me you had a cat?! It’s so cute, boy or girl?! How old is it— “ 

“She’s a.. she’s a girl. Seven months.” 

“She’s soooo cute! Oh my god! I always wanted a cat! What’s her name? Oh, look at her little princess collar— “

You turned back to her: she had an expression that you didn’t recognize, and you hadn't realized how close you’d gotten during your jumpy, hyper kitty questions. You felt her breathing against your face as she studied it, and you studied her back. 

Why were you suddenly thinking about that night? You kissing her, her kissing back, her grabbing you like she never wanted to let you go again. Her eyes slowly dropped to your mouth, and yours did the same. All you had to do was lean forward again—

A quiet meow! snapped you out of your lustful haze before you looked down and backed away. You noticed Ellie hadn’t moved from her position when you looked back up, eyes still searching for… something. 

“She’s.. she’s cute,” you said as you cleared your throat, walking towards the cushiony space. “Let’s sit.” 

She silently nodded and sat next to you. 

Deep breath. Exhale. 

Let’s get this over with! your brain shouted. 

“I’m so sorry. I never regretted anything so much in my life. I treated your sister like fucking garbage—I treated you like garbage and I’ve never felt so terrible— “

“Ellie, breathe,” you cut off her nervous mumbles. You just sat down! “I’m not… upset with you anymore. And you're not the only one who fucked up, either. It wouldn’t be an apology if I didn’t take some accountability too.” 

You watched her relax before confusion overtook her expression. You explained yourself, blushing as you recalled the events of that night. “I know… New Year’s wasn’t the best first meeting after…. you know. I wanted to apologize for how I… reacted and what I did. It wasn’t okay at all—” 

There was a moment of silence before she broke it, eyebrows still pulled downward as she stuttered. “You don’t... You don’t have to apologize for that. I um…. like, it was fine. Well, it wasn’t fine—we were drunk and whatever, but, yeah, I don’t think of you differently, or, what I mean is— “

You laughed lightly at her nervousness. She shook her head with a sheepish smile before she hit her mint elf bar that she pulled out of her pocket, blowing the smoke away from your face. 

“I’m not sure if you can tell, but I’m scared shitless.” 

“I think you’re making it obvious,” you said as you chuckled and continued. 

She paused as she collected her thoughts, staring down at the couch. “I said a lot of… fucked up shit when I met up with your sister after everything happened. About her… about you. I don't know how much she told you but… I said things that I regretted immediately. I was angry and hurt… and I felt cornered, and I lashed out. Doesn’t excuse it at all, but… yeah, it was gross’n uncalled for.”

“She told me everything. All of it,” You tried to ignore the sting in your heart as you recalled that night. She nodded her head shamefully. You continued. 

“Why didn’t you reach out after your birthday?” You pressed as softly as you could manage. 

She didn’t answer immediately as you watched her breathe deeply. 

“I…” She stuttered before whispering. “I was scared.” 

“Of?” You pressed again, tone more urgent. 

“Of you both never talking to me again,” She said, confusing you before she clarified. “I held it off for so long because I needed to think about my approach. I felt if I immediately called you, you wouldn’t wanna talk to me because of how fresh it was. But I also…I don’t know, it’s fuckin’ stupid.” 

You shook your head at her. “I'm just…I’m confused because I never, like, hated you or anything like that after we left your party. I want you to know that,” you said seriously, your nerves making you stutter. “I was sad and embarrassed, but never… hateful, if that makes sense. Even when I tried to be afterwards, it never came.” 

You noticed her expression drop slightly at the mention of hate before she replied softly. “I’d understand if you did. What I said to you and your sister was fucking disgusting… I don’t know if she’ll ever forgive me for what I said.” 

“She’s been… stubborn, I won’t lie. I don’t know what state of mind she’s in when it comes to you, to be honest. I just know she’s still hurting.” 

Ellie nodded in acknowledgment as she looked down, but you could see the sorrowful look overtake her face at your admission. It made your heart stutter. You watched as she hit her nic again. 

Just as you were about to move to comfort her, your phone dinged, and dinged, from your pocket. You unlocked your phone and saw a slew of texts from Arya. 

ari: is she giving you “i’m sorry” head yet?

ari: im bored bro being a good friend is tiring 😐🙄

ari: i know her strap is bright red and THICK 

ari: like a fire hydrant!!

ari: how tf r u gonna walk outta that big ass building!!🚷🚷🚷

You clenched and blushed heavily at the suggestion, clicking your phone off and dropping it in your lap out of embarrassment. You looked back up at her with a mortified expression and she… was smirking. And then she smiled. And laughed. She’d been looking at your screen the whole time. Why didn’t you angle the screen away from her?!

She saw them. She saw the messages!

You want to die you want to die you want to die—

“Your friend’s funny,” she said as she blew out a waft of smoke around her giggles. 

“I’m—I’m so fuckin’ sorry, she’s crazy and gross! —“ 

She laughed harder and shook her head. “No, you're good, don’t worry.” 

You fell back on her couch (it felt like a fucking cloud!) with your face in your hands as you thought about the type of casket you wanted for your funeral. 

But… oh, fuck. 

You felt her body move on the couch before you felt her weight crawl on top of you and oh god what the fuck!

She pulled at your forearms to slide your hands off of your warm face, but you refused to open your eyes there was no way you’re opening your fucking eyes right now—

“Look at me.” 

You shook your head. She smelled so good, she smelled so good! Your body clenched tight, you were so horny, and you wanted her bad and was her dick like a fire hydrant?!—

“Open ‘em, c’mon, wanna see you!” you heard the smile in her voice. 

You missed her smile so bad, and you moved on autopilot, slowly opening your eyes and taking in the sight above you. She was cheesing so hard, a light blush painted across her freckles, beanie discarded and hair everywhere from her messing with it out of nervousness when you sat down. She looked so much more comfortable in your presence, and it made your heart skip with joy. You couldn’t help but smile back at her. 

What you didn’t expect was for her to take your wrists in her calloused hands, pin them either side of your head, and bend down to whisper it’s not red, it’s purple, but yeah! before you turned away from her to suffocate yourself in her cushions. They smelled like her why does the universe hate you—!

She started hysterically laughing as she let go of your wrists and plopped down next to you, and it made you want to cry: her laugh is so goofy and stupid and she snorts, but nobody could tell you that her laugh didn’t sound like angels singing in that moment. All you could do was watch her with the widest grin on your face. 

After she wiped the tears from her eyes, she met yours, her smile getting softer and her eyes gentler. She licked her lips before she subtly dropped her eyes to your mouth, and back up to meet your gaze again. You could feel her gently grazing her fingers across your forehead as you looked at each other. Your heart was pounding due to her closeness—

THROW IT IN ROTATION! (THROW IT!)—

Your ringtone blared in the living room and you wanted to fucking scream. You sat up to reach for it before plopping back down, answering it. 

“BITCH, I’M STARVING! ARE Y’ALL DONE?!”

You heard Ellie snicker at your friend's blaring before she whispered a soft don’t leave yet. You sent her a reassuring smile and she sent one back. 

“Umm.. Ari?” 

“Girl… what?” 

“I’m staying, m’ sorry for keeping you waiting for this long.” 

You heard her let out a cackle before she wailed, “THE STRAP GOT YOU LIKE THAT?! WHEN’S THE WEDDING—!” 

You hung up before she could say anything more. Ellie’s booming laughter nearly shook the entire building. 

Your entire body was boiling hot. You heard another ding! from your device. You couldn’t help but read it, making sure to block the screen from Ellie's view this time. 

ari: I LOVE U!!!!! PLS BE SAFE 

ari: AND DONT B MAD AT ME BC HER PIPE CRAZY!!! XOXO

“Holy fuck!” Ellie said in between breaths, more tears running down her face. “I have to meet her, oh my god!” 

It was dark and you were still at Ellie’s. 

You’d been laying on the couch talking for hours about any and everything: how you and Arya are roommates on campus, your attempts at music production, your fucking YouTube channel and how she’d been a dedicated subscriber for months?! You let her talk about her life as well: her being a music engineer and producer (she started selling her beats to artists in the city months ago, rich bitches only!), how she, Dina, and Jesse are still very close (poor sissy), her being a literal fucking celebrity and a monarch for the creative community in your town. 

(“It was such a random night, I swear to god!” she squealed out with a smile as you listened to the story, laughing. “But… I felt like I wanted to help them, they were such nice people. And it blew up like crazy, it was insane! We couldn’t believe it.”)

You both rambled on and on! 

But, even with her transparency, there was still something heavy weighing on you that she hadn’t addressed. 

“Ellie?” 

“Hm?” 

“I don’t wanna… press on this, and don’t answer if you don’t feel comfortable, but… why did you and Cat break up?” You asked softly, staring at the wall behind her. 

You felt her shift next to you, and you immediately went to apologize for crossing a boundary, but she spoke before you could. 

“We um… we were kinda… bad for each other? That shit sounds so fuckin’ corny, but it’s true.” She said as she collected her thoughts. She continued when she gathered them. 

“We met really randomly. I was walking home from school, and we just bumped into each other in front of this gas station. She looked so cool to me and I was like oh my god, she’s perfect. I was still in my fucking gym clothes from P.E, like,” She said with a soft laugh. You smiled encouragingly. “I was in a really… bad place and she came in and made me not think about it all the time.” 

She paused, taking a deep breath before continuing. “We’ve always been a little unstable, but it just… all went downhill after we moved to Cali. She was doing things I didn’t like, I was doing things she didn’t like and… yeah. She broke up with me and kicked me out.” 

“I’m really sorry, Ellie,” you said comfortingly. “I know you were together for a really long time, that’s terrible.” 

“No need to apologize, we just grew apart. It happens,” she replied softly, finally meeting your eyes. “And I got cat custody, so.” 

You both let out soft laughs as the familiar jingle rang from the kitchen. 

“I swear to god she was human at some point, she always comes when I mention her,” she commented with an eyeroll. 

“She’s such a sweetie pie, I wanna cuddle!” 

She quietly hummed in agreement before letting out gentle kissy noises to lure her pet over. 

Jingle, jingle, jinglejinglejingle—

And a cat appeared on the back of the couch. 

“Hi, princess!” You said giddily as you sat up, propping yourself up on your elbow as she sniffed your extended hand. “I’m a fuckin’ idiot, what’s the baby’s name?” 

“Duchess, fuckin’ vermin,” She said lightly, grin on her face as she sat up to grab the kitty and placed her in the open space between your bodies, planting kisses on her little head. 

“Hi, baby! You’re so cute!” You squealed out as she purred at your gentle pets, before she froze, looked off into the distance and ran off the couch like she saw a ghost. 

Ellie tsked and rolled her eyes at her fleeing form before she turned back to you. Did she move closer? Or did you? 

“Are you hungry?” She quietly asked, her eyes—once again—locked onto your mouth. 

“A little.” 

“My dad made lasagna last night, it’s in the fridge. We can order in too if you don’t want that.” 

“I love lasagna!” 

You watched her grin and look at your mouth one more time before she got up and waddled over to the kitchen. 

The lasagna was in the oven, and you were watching Ellie seal her rolled blunt at the kitchen table. 

She was lightly licking the wrap closed and you were staring hard. Like, really fucking hard. Your devious fucking brain almost allowed you to forget that she had a fucking black tongue piercing, and you were starting to squirm in your chair—

“You smoke?” 

You dazedly shook your head no. “Not really, on very rare occasions.” 

She nodded at you while she licked the paper before speaking. “If you wanna hit, just lemme know.” 

You nodded at her before redirecting your gaze back to her mouth. She was already done with sealing her blunt, but her lips were so fucking pretty and you couldn’t look away. 

Until she started smiling. Fuck. 

“You stare really hard,” she noted with a light laugh. 

“So do you!” You said as you dropped your gaze to her table. 

“Mhm,” She agreed with a nod, squinting her eyes at you. “But you try to act like you're not looking when you are. I want you to catch it, that’s the difference between me’n you.” 

She said it so casually and it made your pussy clench—

Ding!

“Be a doll and light this for me, gonna go get the goods,” She said, sliding the stocked ashtray and lighter over to you before lightly jogging towards the oven. 

You picked up the lighter and flicked it before picking up the blunt, awkwardly guiding it to the flame. 

Was this correct? Or were you supposed to light the other side? What the fuck—

“How the fuck do you live with a stoner like your sister and not know how to spark?” She playfully teased you from the counter, mitt-covered hands holding the hot pan of food. 

“Fuck off! I just told you I don’t smoke!” You said with a pout. 

She walked back over to you, placing the pan in the middle of the table and removing her paw oven mitts before taking the blunt and lighter from you. 

“You’re lighting it like a cig, here, lemme show you.” She said as she sat down. 

You watched her ignite the flame and brought it over to the tip of the blunt. She slowly rotated the blunt so all sides were burnt, a steady stream of smoke releasing from the lit end of it. 

She brought it to her lips and lightly puffed it twice and you didn’t realize how tight you were squeezing your fists together. 

She put the lighter down, properly ripping from the blunt and breathing in a little… sphere? before exhaling and what the fuck was that she’s so fucking sexy—

“See?” 

“I can see your charred lungs—!”

She busted out into laughter before she started choking, pointing towards the kitchen cabinets, whining out a go get the fuckin’ plates!

You giggled as you rushed over to grab two, along with forks and a knife before jogging back to your seat. 

You made Ellie a plate, cutting her a piece of the cheesy corner and sliding it in front of her, placing her fork on the dish. 

You felt her eyes staring holes into your face, and you slowly turned to her, holding her intense gaze as she brought the blunt up to her lips to hit it. She was watching your every move. All you were doing was putting the fucking casserole on the plate, but you felt so hot. 

You shyly turned away from her gaze and made yourself a plate and ate in comfortable silence (this lasagna was so fucking good, it rendered you speechless!) as Ellie smoked her roach down. You could still feel her staring! 

You both finished eating and you got up to stack and wash the dishes before Ellie stopped you with a nope! you’re my guest! go sit!

“Let me at least wash mine!” You said as you snagged your plate from her hand and ran to the sink, water running and sponge already in hand. 

Ellie threw her plate in the sink as you both giggled, reaching for your plate to snatch it back. You tussled with her, dodging her playful grasps for the dirty dish before you felt her front press all the way up against your back, trapping you between the counter and her. And you were immediately still.

And so was she. 

She slowly reached around you to turn the water off, grabbing the plate and sponge from your nonresistant hands to place them into the sink. Your hands and body were frozen as you stood there. You hadn’t realized how much you’d been anticipating her touch until you felt her hands on both your covered arms. She slowly moved them up before she brought her hands to your shoulders to squeeze them, sliding them over to gently massage her thumbs into the back of your neck. 

You nearly bent over this fucking sink! 

Your breathing picked up even more when she whispered out a this okay?, her breath making the hairs on your arms stand up. You nodded eagerly as you bit your lip. Your pussy nodded even faster! 

Desperate slut! I knew it!, your brain screamed, and for once, you didn’t listen. You just felt the hands on you. 

“You wanna know somethin’?” She whispered out against your neck. 

You nodded so hard. Anything anything anything—

She let out a light chuckle before she said, “I thought about you a lot after you left the bar, ‘s kinda embarrassing.” 

You spoke before you could think. “What… what'd you think about?” You breathed out, unsteady. You felt her hands clench tighter on your shoulders. 

You felt her smirk at your greedy tone against your neck, “Fuckin’ you up against that door, wanted to make you cry.” 

You were about to cry right now! Your pussy’s crying! She needs attention! Your hands were glued to the sink, but you slowly wrapped your foot around her ankle to subtly pull her closer to you. You wanted no space between the two of you, you needed her closer. 

You felt her drop her hands before she whispered out a turn around, baby.

You dropped your foot spun—whipped— around and it made her giggle. She was so, so close but you needed her closer, needed to breathe her in, needed her inside—

You looked at her, you looked at her so fucking hard. She's so gorgeous and handsome and sexy and you needed her like you needed air! You missed her so much! You couldn’t fucking breathe—!

Kissmekissmekissme—

“Stay the night,” she whispered out against your mouth. 

“Not fuckin’ going anywhere.” You could barely recognize your own voice; you needed her so badly. 

She hummed, satisfied with your answer before she grabbed your waist to pull you flush against her—just like she did that night—and kissed you. She kissed you breathless and you couldn’t think. She barely touched you and you were brainless! 

She smelled like weed and fucking pine and your legs felt like jelly! 

Her hands were everywhere: grabbing your hips, grabbing your ass, grabbing your tits through your clothes and you were moaning into her mouth, tugging at her sweatshirt to pull her closer. You felt her studded tongue slide against yours and you moaned again, louder. She hummed back, sucking your bottom lip into her mouth before releasing it to lick it again. You felt her thigh shove between yours in a hard grind against your pussy. You squeaked into her mouth as you impulsively moved downward to meet her thigh. 

“Wanted to cum on me so fuckin’ bad, right? Huh?” 

“Yeah, baby, shit— “

“Uh huh,” she hummed at your whines before pulling back, grabbing at your sweatpants with a rough tug downward. “Take these off, c’mon.” 

You yanked them down as Ellie squatted to help you get them from around your ankles. You stumbled as you lifted a leg to step out of one, but one of her hands came up to your hip to steady you, planting a gentle kiss to one of your thighs with a muttered easy. You noticed her catch a glimpse of your underwear as she pulled away from your leg, which were littered with fucking bowls of fruit are you fucking kidding—

“You’re so fuckin’ cute, holy shit,” you felt her chuckle lightly at your bashed reaction, covering your face as you whined into your hands. 

“This is so fucking embarrassing!” 

She ignored you as you felt her press kisses all over your legs, “Look at me.” 

You whined again, shaking your head. 

You felt her kiss her way back up over your panties, over your stomach with a tight grip on your hips, grabbing your tits over your sweatshirt, and you hadn’t even noticed that your hands dropped from your face to grip the counter to steady yourself. She reconnected her lips with yours and you threw your arms around her neck. She pressed her thigh against you, and you slammed a clenching hand down on the counter behind you for balance. She held your hips to help you grind down on her and you were so, so high-strung and ready to cum for her—

“El—Ellie, oh fuck!” 

“Yeah?” She said against your neck, sucking marks into the skin.

“Ye—mmh!” 

“Gonna get m’fuckin’ leg wet? Gonna make me yours?” She slurred raspily. 

The thought of her being yours was enough to make you cum hard in your panties, your body stiffening and your eyes rolling back as it wracked through you. Ellie made sure to keep the gap between your pussy and her leg closed as you rode your high out. You tried to shut your legs as she pressed into you, but your resistance only made her dig her leg harder into your clit with a cocky chuckle against your neck. You couldn’t stop saying her name and you knew she loved it! You were so happy she was standing as close as she was; You would’ve hit the floor the second it washed over you! 

She continued that slow grind as you came down. She pulled away from your neck to kiss your mouth, then your nose, then both your cheeks before mumbling, “Can you make it upstairs or do you want me walk you to the fuckin’ couch?” 

You peeled your eyes open to lightly glare at her flushed face, and she laughed before kissing your cheek again and pulling you away from the counter. “C’mon, baby, wobble your ass upstairs.” 

You did, lightheaded and all. 

Ellie's room was so… her. 

Posters of metal bands all over the black, faux brick wall, green and blue fairy lights above her dresser, little trinkets and action figures and books on her other dresser. It was all dark tones with hints of forest green on her dresser and nightstands. You were surrounded by her scent when you walked up the stairs, and you almost passed out from elation. 

What you didn’t expect to see was her customized fucking guitar that her dad gave her on the stand in the corner of her room. Next to it, on the desk near her producing equipment, was the embroidered guitar pic that you and your sister got for her eighteenth birthday. She still had it, she actually used it. You immediately felt tears prick your eyes. 

“What’s wrong?” she said sympathetically, wrapping her arms around your waist to hold you against her. You sniffled and wiped your eyes. 

“…Nothin’, just happy and missed you,” You hoped she bought it. You weren’t about to tell her that you were crying over a fucking guitar pic. 

“Missed you so fuckin’ much, you don’t understand,” and you felt her squeeze your waist tighter. 

You were on cloud nine. 

After you calmed down and wiped your face as she kissed your neck in comfort, she guided you over to her mussed king bed with a mumbled sit down against your forehead before kissing it. You sat and moved to scoot up towards the middle of the bed, but she quickly grabbed your ankles and pulled you back down to the edge. You let out a shocked squeak. 

“No one told you to move. Stay there,” She scolded quietly before removing her sweatshirt. Your pussy squeezed at the sight of her bare chest and her fucking defined abs and her everything. You examined her upper body closely: flushed chest littered with freckles shaped like stars, small and random scars that you recognized from her skateboarding accidents years ago, how muscular she was. She was so…

She watched your legs squeeze together with a lick of her lips. You watched her gaze peer down as she watched wetness collect on your panties before she turned and walked towards her dresser to turn her dim lamp and dug around for something… a few things. 

Your heartbeat pounded at an alarming pace as you watched her back muscles move with her rummaging. You let out a quiet, dreamy sigh. You’d let her do anything she wanted to you!

She walked back to the bed with full hands, placing the pile of… toys on her exposed, forest green, pine-scented sheets. 

You were staring so hard at the… weaponry she just dumped next to you. The only one you recognized was the rechargeable blue wand, her fucking thick, dark purple strap oh fuck, some cherry-flavored lube, and that clit massager that people always linked under viral Twitter threads. Hey, ladies! —

Ellie must’ve noticed the shocked look on your face as you eyed the toys because you felt her grab your chin to redirect your gaze onto her. You were so wound up. 

“We don’t have to use all of these, we don’t have to use any of you don’t wanna,” Ellie said gently as she looked down at you while gently caressing your jaw with her pointer finger. “Just wanted you to know I have a preeetty good selection to choose from, it’s up to you, though, whatever you want.” 

You got wetter at her consideration and her soft chuckles and her touch and her tits, and oh god, you were about to say I love you—! 

“Ellie, I’ve never—y’know,” You blurted out before your habit of impulsivity took over.  

“Never used a toy?” 

Your face got hotter as you sighed heavily and averted your gaze towards the wall, and you felt her release your chin to lay on her stomach next to you. 

She called out your name softly. You timidly looked at her. 

“You never had sex?” 

You slowly shook your head no. 

You were expecting her to joke around and laugh at your embarrassing confession, but she looked and sounded so attentive, so comforting, and it made you squirm. 

“It's not a big deal, y’know that right? There’s no timeline to do it. You do it when you wanna… and that’s it.” She said with soft finality as you turned to look at her… very high ceiling. Wealth. 

“I wanna, it’s just… like, I don’t know how. Like, where do I put my hands?” You asked with an awkward chuckle as you stiffly held them in the air. 

She snorted in your ear before she shuffled closer, turning onto her side to face you. You felt her lift your hoodie up just under your lounge bra and you felt her hand graze the exposed skin above your panties, not dipping under, yet. Just… touching along them. It made you shudder.

“You put ‘em where you like,” She whispered in your ear as she kissed them, barely nudging her fingers under your panties. “And you just watch. See how they react.” 

You dropped your hand to place lightly on her wrist to rest there. You saw her gauging your reaction for any signs of discomfort from the corner of your eye. There weren’t any, touch me everywhere!, you wanted to scream. 

“El…Ellie..” You whimpered out

“Tell me what you want from me, I’ll do it, anything you want, just need to hear you say it.” She sounded just as eager as you felt and it was making your toes curl. 

“Can you,” You whined out quietly as you gripped her wrist tighter. She nodded encouragingly at you. “Want you to touch me.” 

“Tell me where, baby.” 

“Y-you know where.” 

“Say it.” She demanded. Her voice was going to put you in a casket! 

“My… my pussy, want you to touch my pussy,” you quickly murmured out to her, your eyes squeezing shut in embarrassment. 

“Take these off,” she whispered, kissing the side of your head as she snapped the band of your underwear against your skin. You quickly lifted your hips to rip them off your body, harshly kicking them onto the floor. She snickered at you. 

She sat up to instantly straddle your waist and your eyes shot open. She looked so pretty on top of you like this. She bent down to place a quick kiss to your lips before she lifted your hoodie up and over your head and tossed it…. fucking somewhere, you didn’t care where! She started kissing you on your cheeks, down to your jaw, to your neck, to your shoulder (you jerked slightly, you love it when she touches you there!). You felt her slowly lift your bra up and over your tits, your back immediately arching up into her so she could pull it off you, tossing that into the abyss, as well. 

“Put your fuckin’ hands up there,” She said, nodding her head up slightly as she sat up to take your body in. You pushed your self-consciousness aside and immediately followed her instructions, releasing the tight grip you had on her sheets and stretching your arms out above your head. “Don’t move ‘em, either.”

You nodded your head. You won't, you won’t! 

She brought her lips down to meet yours again before she trailed them down your body. She kissed and sucked on both your nipples, the stud in her mouth circling the bud, as you whined and squirmed under her, fingers grasping the blankets above your head, your hips bucking up before she pressed them down with her strong hands. 

“Stop moving.” 

You nodded as you whimpered. 

She left kisses down your stomach, sucking bruises into it as she moved down down down, her feet planting on the floor before she got down on her knees. She yanked you closer to the edge and her, throwing your legs over her shoulders again. Your lower half was nearly hanging off the bed!

“Prettiest fuckin’ pussy, I swear to god.” She said against your thighs as she sloppily kissed them. You clenched tighter when she whispered out a so fuckin’ cute. 

You felt her spread your pussy lips with her fingers, exposing the pulsing bud. Another gush of wetness left you and she laughed gently. It made you clench again. 

“Ever put a finger inside?” 

“N-no?” You whimpered between pants.

“You don’t remember?” 

“I’ve never… yeah.” 

She chuckled lightly. “Okay, wanna see if you like it?” 

You let out a shaky mhm!, and you felt her arms tightly wrap around both your thighs before she licked your clit in a slow swipe. 

You moaned out and your back arched and your eyes watered. The jewelry in her mouth was making you see stars and it’s been five seconds. She barely did anything and you felt that tight clench in your core! You were about to cum already!

You felt her tongue move in slow circles on your clit and you couldn’t stop making fucking noise! You were whining out pleads and your pussy was telling her I like it, don’t stop! with every throb, every clench. You could feel her take notes of all your reactions as she slowly massaged your clit with her pierced tongue. You felt that feeling coming back and it was so fast—

“El, mmh!—fuck, ‘m gonna—!”

“You can, ‘m not gonna stop.” She said against your clit. The vibrations sent your brain into overdrive. 

“Ughh! Fuck—!”

You came. You came so fucking hard. You couldn’t fucking run due to the tight grip on your thighs, so you slammed your hand down on her shoulder to ground yourself, digging your nails into it as she moaned out against your clit as she sucked on it. Your head was thrown all the way back as you screamed her name, and she was still sucking on your clit and wasn’t stopping and oh fuck— 

“El, pleasepleaseplease, I can’t—“you called out as you pushed her head away from you. 

She released your clit and slapped it before you could squeeze your thighs together. You let out a squeak and jolted away from her snickering form as you felt her kiss up your legs, to your torso, to your face before resting beside you. 

“You okay?” She asked as she laughed quietly, planting kisses on your ear and neck. You couldn’t move or speak—you could hardly breathe! — and she had the audacity to laugh?!

“I’m not done, I told you that,” She said as she sucked on your shoulder, and you felt a tight squeeze again. 

“Ellie, I can’t take anymore— “

“Yeah, you can, open em’, c’mon, lemme see,” She said as she tapped your stiff thigh. You slowly released the tension in them before letting them fall open and she sat up to prop herself on her elbow. You watched her look down so she could look at and rub your clit again, letting out a quiet fuuuck at the sight of your sticky center. Your legs almost flew shut at the sensitivity, but she held them open with one of her legs. You let out a groan as she laughed louder and rubbed a little harder before she stopped at your whining. Fucking sadist!

“Wanna watch you take my fingers.” 

You whimpered out her name as you met her gaze. 

“Want me to stop, baby?” 

You quickly shook your head. No, no no, don’t stop, don’t leave me! 

She bent down to kiss your neck as she moved her hand to squeeze the inner parts of your thigh before she brought her hand back down to rub your clit again. Your hips bucked, but she didn’t hold you. 

You felt her fingers dip lower and lower until she was at your drippy opening, only to bring them up to her mouth to suck them clean. You moaned when she moaned at the taste and turned to kiss you, gliding her tongue on yours so you could see for yourself. You sucked lightly on her tongue and her tongue ring, and she whined out. 

“Taste so fuckin’ good, such good pussy,” She slurred out against your mouth. You felt her hand go straight back down to your pussy before she lightly nudged her finger in. You went stiff. She kissed your neck to soothe you. 

“This okay?” She asked gently before continuing.  “Always remember you can stop me.” 

“Wan’it, El, I promise, want you everywhere, want you inside,” you sounded just as delirious as she was, drunk off each other. 

She nodded against you. “Okay. Gonna go slow.” 

You nodded back. 

She continued her movements, slowly pushing her pointer finger inside you, watching your face for any signs of discomfort. But you were so fucking wet, you could feel yourself dripping on her fucking sheets, her finger slipped in and you wanted more. 

You felt her slowly rub your clit with her thumb and it made you squeeze tight on her. 

“Can barely move my fuckin’ finger, what the fuck,” She said in shock and it made you squeeze harder! “Want another, baby? Want another inside?” 

You were nodding mindlessly as you listened to the noises your pussy made (yes, please! another inside!) as she rubbed you raw, and you could feel her wiggling around, in search for something—

You moaned aloud as your legs instinctively opened wider so she could get deeper and holy fuck it felt so fucking good when she hit right there—

“Yeah?” She rasped in your ear, pressing on it harder. 

“Yeahyeah, fuck—“

“Yeah babygirl? That’s the spot? Like it right here?” She asked dazed as she slid another finger in to press up against it. You felt the stretch but you didn’t care because you felt something inside you rising and rising—

She wasn’t even fucking you anymore! Just grinding her fingers into right where you needed them while her thumb circled your clit and she was about to make you cum again. The squelching noises of your pussy got louder and louder and your eyes rolled into your skull as your back arched as it hit you. 

“Fuck yeah, fuckin’ give it to me, thaaat’s a good girl, fuck me.” 

You felt a burst of wetness around you and it wouldn’t stop because of how hard Ellie was fucking you. You couldn’t think and all you could say were slurry, wet fuckmefuckmefuckme’s as she took you to the moon and back. 

You finally came down as Ellie pressed kisses on your head while slowly rubbing your clit, talking you back to earth. Your eyes peeled open, bleary and teary-eyed. How were you not dead yet? You felt like you died!

“Welcome back,” you heard a light voice giggle at you. 

You flipped her off and she laughed. She gave it a kitten lick before she sat up. What the fuck—

You watched her get up to run to the bathroom. You heard the sink running before you saw her quickly return with a warm, damp washcloth to clean you up. 

“My sheets are drenched, goddamn,” She said in quiet amazement as she ran her fingers through her hair. It made you blush harder. 

Jinglejinglejinglejingle—

Meow! MeowMeow! Meow—

“Oh shit. Needa feed her, I’ll be back,” Ellie said to you, bending down to plant a kiss on your bruised thigh, discarding the towel in her hamper. You watched as she scooped up Duchess to carry her downstairs while pressing kisses to her head. 

Your heart was pounding as you smiled dotingly at her descending form. 

After feeding the purring kitty and smoking another blunt, Ellie made her way upstairs to find you curled up and snoring. 

She snorted and made her way over to you, pressing light kisses to your back as you shuffled around. 

“I gotta change the sheets babe, up you get, c’mon,” She said gently with an encouraging pat to your ass. She did, in fact, watch it jiggle. “You wanna shower?”

You shook your head as you rubbed your eyes, rolling over onto your back. “M’kay, just gonna change them and you can sleep.” 

Ellie made her way over to her linen cabinet to grab the freshly washed sheets before making her way back over to your now upright form. 

She watched you stand up to toss the blankets and pillows off and ripped the… soaking sheets off, everything—including the pile of toys that she never put back— falling onto the rug covered floor. She noticed your avoidant gaze as you caught glimpses of her dick poking out from under the pile of bedding. It made her smile and blush. 

Ellie made the bed while you sat at her desk to drink water, fluffing the pillows and fixing the blankets. 

“Alright, come lay down.” 

She heard you move instantly as you dove headfirst into the plush bed, immediately grabbing a pillow and sliding under the blankets. 

Ellie shook her head with a smile before moving towards her nightstand to turn off the dimly lit lamp. She made her way to the bathroom before she heard a little waaitt. She turned to see you with an outstretched hand, luring her back to you. 

“What’s the matter?” She asked, squatting next to you. 

“Wanna kiss,” You said, pouting, and Ellie's heart rate shot up. Fuck, fuckfuckfuck—

But she only hummed in acknowledgment, bending down to connect your lips in a soft kiss. “Better?” 

You nodded with a grin, looking lovingly at her face. You leaned in for one more and she accepted. She accepted so quickly. 

“Gonna go shower, okay?” She said gently against your mouth. 

“Without me?” You whispered back with a sly grin, pressing another kiss to her mouth. 

“Shut up, I asked you,” She was cheesing so fucking hard, her cheeks were starting to hurt. 

You giggled, kissing her cheek before turning back over. 

Ellie let out a deep sigh as she stood and stripped, removing her sweatpants and damp boxers, and tossing everything—including your fruit bowl covered panties that you would not be getting back—into the hamper as she made her way to the bathroom. 

She shut the bathroom door and leaned back against it and thought. 

What the fuck has she gotten herself into? 

She wanted you close the minute she saw you downstairs, all warm and cozy with the brightest, gentlest eyes she’d ever had the pleasure of looking into. So soft and gentle and filled with longing. 

She hoped you noticed how much she missed you, too. 

And your stares… so filled with want and desire and eagerness. She wanted to touch you all over. 

She was so fucking horny, and her heart was beating at the speed of light and every time she shut her eyes, she could see you smiling and laughing and—

She just made you cum all over her bed… and fingers…and leg and you were so fucking tight on her, and she wanted to fuck you so bad. Want to make you feel good. Wanted to make you see what she sees whenever she looks at you. So fucking gorgeous. 

She was getting hot again. 

She slowly walked towards the shower and turned the water on, checking the temperature before stepping inside. 

She leaned forward slightly to wet her hair and her face before grabbing her loofah and soap, sudsing it up and scrubbing her body with the bubbly, pine-scented wash. She turned her back towards the hot water and immediately felt a sting on her shoulder. She turned her head, pulling the skin towards her to see the little red lines you dug into her when you came on her face. 

All she could think about was making you fucking squirt again. She needed to fucking cum so bad. 

But she didn’t want to wake you: you looked so cuddly and warm nestled under her blankets with your face nuzzled into her pillow. She wanted you to stay like that, content and satisfied and relaxed. Calm. You deserved it. Fuck, you deserved so much. 

Her soft thoughts were cut off when she turned back around and looked up. At her shower head. Her detachable shower head. She let out a sigh and accepted her fate. 

She rinsed her body off, making sure all the soap was running off of her and into the drain before she reached up to unhook the shower head from its latch in the wall. She adjusted the temperature to make it cooler, adjusted the settings to massage and squatted against the wall. She exposed her clit with her free hand and moved so the water could hit it straight on. The strong pulse made her shudder instantly. 

Justneedacumjustneedacum—

Her glossy eyes fluttered shut and she immediately saw you bouncing on her dick. She saw you rubbing your clit and touching your tits telling her how good it’s stretching you out, and it’s all for her. She saw you looking up at her with your glossy, lustful eyes, your trembling thighs, your glistening pussy. How pretty it is. How pretty your face was. How bright your smile was and fuck, it was going to make her fucking cum—

She wanted you to be happy. She loved seeing you happy. She loved it, she loved it!

“Fuck, shit!” 

She felt that sweet, swelling feeling in her cunt and she was so close. She missed your scent: you smelt like fucking sunflowers she wanted it all over her. Wanted to drown in you in any way she could. Any way you’d allow. 

She lov—

And she came so fucking hard, her ears started ringing. Her brain only producing images of you and your giggling face and you playing your fucking violin! Who would’ve thought that would make her eyes roll back into her skull as her clit throbbed in her high?

She felt the sensitivity in her bud as she held the flow of water on it, but she needed more. She wanted you so bad, she couldn’t get enough. She was biting her lip to keep from making noises because you were fucking sleeping, but she couldn’t help the little hums and squeaks of pleasure as she bucked up into the stream. 

She was going to cum again. She was getting tighter and she felt it in her toes and she couldn’t stop shaking. 

It was coming so fast. She threw her head back against the shower wall as it swelled in her lower belly and it’s right there it’s right there—

All she heard was your screams of Ellie! and fuckme! and yes! more! want you everywhere! and she blacked out when it hit her. Her mouth dropped open, and she couldn’t help the moans that left her, saying your name as quietly as she could manage. Fuck, she wanted you next to her. Wants you close, always wants you close. She never wants you away from her again. 

She came down, tossing the still running shower head onto the floor as she slouched in her position. Her vision was spotty as she glanced around at the marble walls, but she could still see you in her mind. And she knew that you wouldn’t be leaving it anytime soon. 

Fuck. 

She was in trouble. 

After Ellie got up on her trembling legs and dried off, she walked back into her room to find you tucked under her dark blankets while Duchess laid across your feet on her back. Her heart stuttered in her chest, and she couldn’t help the small smile that made its way onto her face. 

She put on a pair of boxers and Dina’s old Slayer tee before she pulled the covers back to lay next to you. She heard Duchess move around on top of your legs. She carefully sat up to stick her arm out to lure her closer, picking up the tired kitty before she put the fur ball between your bodies. She felt the kitty relax in her grasp. 

Ellie looked up at your tranquil, sleeping form before leaning forward to plant a soft kiss on your forehead. You nuzzled closer even in your resting state. 

Yeah. 

She was in fucking trouble. 

You woke up early. With no scarf on! 

It was around six in the morning when your eyes pulled up, and you were very hot. And there was something fluffy between your neck and chin. 

And then you remembered. Ellie. Kitty. Ellie, Ellie, Ellie. Oh, shit. The memories of last night slammed into you like a sixteen-wheeler and you couldn’t stop grinning. You probably looked crazy from another perspective. 

She was holding you to her chest, your bare back flush against her clothed chest. You tried to shuffle as lightly as you could so you wouldn’t wake your cuddler, but she moved with you anyway, pulling you closer. 

And then you felt her nails just barely grazing up and down your arm as you relaxed into her instantly. 

“Ellie?” You whispered. 

“Mhm?” she said hoarsely back. Fuck.

“You awake?” 

“…No.” She said with a snort. You gently kicked her leg as you grinned. 

Duchess had moved from your shoulder and onto the bed when you both started shifting, stretching her back before sitting to lick her paw and wipe her face with it, soft jingles ringing through the silence of the room. 

“She likes you,” Ellie noted softly in your ear before kissing it. 

“I love her,” you whispered back as you turned around to face the warm girl. She was resting her head on her large pillow, softly caressing your other arm. Her eyes slowly trailed down your face, then your neck, to your breasts. You watched her lick her lips before biting them. You blushed and reached out to lightly slap her arm. She smiled. 

“Not gonna touch. Just lookin’,” She whispered with a foxlike grin on her face as she continued to stare. 

You giggled at her as she softly laughed with you. “You can touch if you wanna.” 

“Oh, I’m gonna, just not right now,” she said huskily as she cockily raised her brow at you. It made you shiver in delight. She could touch you anywhere. 

But your smile slowly disappeared when you remembered. 

“Ellie?” 

“Yeah?” She said back quietly, meeting your eyes. 

“I leave in a couple days,” you said sadly. “Back to campus, I mean.” 

She nodded in understanding, but you saw her brows pulled down in a slight frown. She looked a little sad at the sound of you leaving and you wanted to hold her so tight. 

“When do you come back, do you know?” she asked in a whisper as she mindlessly played with your fingers under the blanket.

“Not ‘til April,” you said with a sad smile. “Spring break.” 

She let out a sigh before she leaned forward to plant a kiss to your lips, you instantly reciprocating. 

She pulled back to whisper, “Do you needa leave today?” 

You reluctantly shook your head yes. “Not right now, but later, yeah.” 

She said nothing, but she grabbed you by the waist to pull you closer into her chest, nuzzling your neck to plant kisses on it. You didn’t want to leave, and you could feel tears pricking your eyes. You blinked rapidly so she wouldn’t notice how upset you were getting. 

“Wanna make you breakfast, at least.” 

You let out a wet laugh as you sniffed lightly. “You almost burned your house down when you made Jesse those cupcakes for his birthday way back! You’re never allowed in the kitchen again.” 

“Oh, fuck you! I was ten and didn’t know what the numbers were on the knob, leave me alone,” She muffled with a smile into your neck. You let out an even louder laugh at her admission. She pressed one more kiss to your neck before sitting up and removing the blankets. Your nipples hardened as the cold air hit them. 

“What are you lookin’ at? Hm?” You heard her ask. You propped yourself up to see who she was talking to. You followed her line of sight onto the floor to see a… very judgmental looking Duchess giving her owner a feed me now! glare. 

“She’s a fuckin’ homophobe. Make out with me so we can piss her off more!” She said jokingly, making kissy faces and grabby hands at you. Even though you wanted her tongue in your mouth again, you declined. 

“No! Go feed the baby right now!” You said with a laugh as you moved away from her. She laughed at you before she jumped up from the bed. 

“Come on, m’love,” Ellie said as she clicked her tongue at her cat, moving towards the stairs. Small jingles and soft scratches on the hardwood filled the room. 

“Ellie, can I use your shower?” You yelled from upstairs. 

“…Course you can!” You heard her yell back. 

You hadn’t noticed as you moved towards the bathroom, but Ellie flushed bright red at the mention of the shower. 

After washing up and stealing some of Ellie’s pine-scented lotion, you put your hoodie and sweatpants from yesterday back on—bare pussy, where the fuck did your underwear go?!—and flew down the stairs at the smell of sausages and syrup. 

You saw Ellie standing over the burning stove, spatula in hand, toaster filled with blueberry Eggos. Your heart raced at the sight. 

“Oh my god, you weren’t joking about breakfast!” You said excitedly while trying to act like your heart wasn’t about to burst out of your chest. You hoped it was working. 

“Oh, you think this is for you? This is mine, you’re making your own!” Ellie said as she looked at you in mocked shock. 

“Fuck you! Put my eggs on the damn plate!” You yelled back to her as you walked over the table. 

She laughed as she stacked two waffles on your plate before topping them with whipped cream, along with your crispy sausages and (slightly burnt) eggs. She's so cute! 

The little chef walked over to you, towel slung over her shoulder as you giggled giddily. She sets your plate in front of you, calling the masterpiece chef Ellie’s surprise! with a dramatic wave of her towel. You clapped for her as she bowed. 

You drenched your waffles in syrup and dug in, as she lightly jogged over to you with a you couldn’t fuckin’ wait for me?!, plate in hand. 

You ate and talked and joked and laughed so hard, you nearly choked on your orange juice. The two of you were in your own little universe and you never wanted to leave. 

But you had to eventually, and you felt devastation wash over you every hour that passed. 

It was noon, and you had to go home. 

Ellie held your hand the entire walk down the stairs. You got your puffer from the couch and put it back on as you both walked towards the front door. 

She bought your Uber after your denial of her offer to drive you home, sadly claiming I don’t know if sissy’ll be there, and you could tell that the mention of your sister saddened her, but she accepted with a soft okay. 

She squatted to lace up your boots, planting a gentle kiss to your clothed knee before she rose to your height. She’s so tall, fuck. 

“Ready, babe?” She asked gently, wrapping her arms around your neck. You waddled closer, rubbing your nose against hers. She pressed a kiss to your mouth, and you pressed another to hers.

“Don’t wanna go,” you barely whispered out. You felt your eyes getting a little glossy. Don’t fucking cry. 

“Don’t want you to go, but you gotta,” She said gently. “Fucking scholar.” 

You were going to say something, but a notification came from her phone in her pocket. She grabbed it, softly saying your car was downstairs. 

“Text me when you get home, okay?” 

You nodded, giving her one more kiss before pulling away from her warmth, slowly walking towards the front door with her following behind. You pulled it open before turning to wrap your arms around her, and she held you just as tightly. You could see Duchess sleeping on the couch on her back, and your tears fell as you shut them. Don’t cry don’t fucking cry—

You knew you weren’t going to be able to see her before you left, so you inhaled her scent one last time until you saw her again. 

And you turned to leave before she could see your tear-stained face. 

You sent a quick text to Ellie as you exited the car saying that you made it safely. She sent you a im glad baby. get some rest and ill see u soon. And it made you sob. And horny. You want to fuck again. 

You pulled your phone out of your pocket when you got up to your room, wiping your damp cheeks. You opened your STUNNA GIRL RIDERS👩🏾‍🦳💯 group chat. 

y: hi guys lol 

And you nearly jumped at how fast the messages came through. 

ari: BITCH DKNT FUCCKINGNSAY HI LIKE SHIT IS SWEET HOW WASS THE PIPE 

krissy: hi honey! 

shining starr: U HOE

ari: SHES SO YRJXIDNFN I KNOW SHE LAID IT DOWNNNNN DDDDEEEEOWNNNNN 

y: y’all r so annoying 

y: not u kris ily so much ur everything to me

krissy: ur my baby! ilym 

ari: SHUTHT EYFHCJCXUPPP GIMME THE DETAILS I NEED EVERY DETAIL RIGHRNFUCKDINGNNOW IM NOT FUXKING PLAYING

shining starr: 😛😛

y: she made me cum when she did the knee thing and sucked my tits and ate me out and made me squirt when she fingered me

You quickly typed the message and sent it before you regretted it. Your cheeks ran hot even thinking about it. You missed her so fucking much. 

shining starr: oh wow.

ari: OHTNMTCUXKDKSIEIEIEISISJSKAKDBHDJS 

krissy: eeeek i’m so glad u had fun!! 

shining starr: u freak. always the fucking quiet ones i told u bitches that

ari: FUCKKDMFMEKWISDJJDJKOOEOEKWJWN 

ari: SHES S ABOUT TO TURN YOU OUT FUCKCDINNG THATS SO FUCKIRGNNHOT 

y: we didn’t even get to fuck fully but she has so many toys

y: i miss her so bad already 

y: she has a kitty🥺

ari: BITCH FUCK THE CAT!!!! NOBODY CARES!! WHAT COLOR IS HER STRAP 

ari: FUCKIGNNGG. FIRE HYDRANT DICK CONFIRMED???

shining starr: LMFAAOOOOO 

You giggled as you sent them (Arya) the details about what happened last night and this morning and you fucking missed Ellie. You couldn’t believe how much you missed her. 

You used to hate the Spring, but now, you couldn't wait for it to come. 

they getting freaakyyy mmmm everybody clap.

everyone pray 2 the proofread gods 4 me they aint answering my calls no more

shoutout to my lil taglist :p. @fandomshitpostingqueen, @nymphetkoo, @sawaagyapong, @gold-dustwomxn

pt. 5 :p

[testingthewatersss]

Fireworks Trigger warnings for PTSD, mentions of war, loud noises etc. Just unapologetic cuddling. Bucky Barnes x F Reader Oneshot 4500 words fluff, angst, comfort. 18+ MDNI Reader is Tony's sister, a non-enhanced shield agent who reappeared after TWS. Tony loves throwing new years eve's parties. You'll have to do better on the soundproofing.

“Y’know…” Bucky says, a soft lilt of sadness in his voice, “…I think I used to love fireworks”

His face is sad too, even in the dimly lit room, Y/N can see the frown he’s sporting.

“Well…” she coos, “…We can always go and wa-”

The jerky shake of his head silences her—

She stays quiet as she paces into their room, shutting the door behind her with a dull click.

He’s halfway hiding in the corner furthest away from the entrance. There’s a ragged old blanket covering his body, and his hair is wild. If he hadn’t been cowering on the floor she’d have thought the whole scene was awfully sweet.

“I barely remember…” he says, when she gets close enough to hear, “but, Steve started talkin’ bout the way we used to go watch them on his birthday and I—”

A distant bang makes him flinch, looking at her totally panic-stricken as whatever words he was about to say die in his throat.

He shuts his open mouth and waits a moment before blinking down at his own lap.

“Did you get a drink at least?”

Bucky nods absentmindedly at the mug of cocoa that had been steaming to his left. It’s not quite as hot anymore, but, the sensors in his metal hand still prickle appreciatively as he inches his palm out towards it.

He holds it out to her, almost expecting her to accept it.

“Good” she coos, shaking her head in dismissal, “-you should drink it before it gets cold”

He obeys mechanically, sipping deeply and trying to focus on the pleasant nostalgia the taste brings.

There’s cream on his nose when he lowers his cup back to the carpet. Y/N smiles as she moves to wipe it away with her fingers, just as her skin meets his face, another series of bangs begins.

Like before they’re distant and muffled, but this time, there isn’t just one. It’s rapid-fire, and each time Bucky thinks it’s finally going to stop, it doesn’t. It carries on, and before he knows what’s happening, he’s reaching out to hug her.

“Oh, sweetheart” Y/N sighs, wrapping him up in her arms, “C’mere— We’ll do better with the soundproofing for next year, okay? I promise”

He’s hyperventilating.

It sounds like gunfire. Like the sound of a dozen rifles going off in the trenches.

He’s cold, and shaking, and he can taste something rich and sweet on his tongue, but he doesn’t like it anymore. It’s not nice when it’s mixed with adrenaline, and he’s clutching onto Y/N, onto the woman he loves so tightly because as much as he doesn’t want her anywhere near this picture of violence, he just doesn’t want to die on his own.

And he is going to die. He’s sure he is because the shooting isn’t stopping and he doesn’t have anything to protect himself with and—

—And then, it’s quiet.

As quickly as they’d started, the noises stop.

“You’re okay” a soft voice purrs, disrupting the newly formed silence, “We’re fine… nothing bad’s coming, Buck…”

It takes a while for him to come back to himself enough to move, but eventually, he edges himself up just enough for Y/N to see his face again.

He thinks he should explain himself, that he should try and vocalise the reason for his irrational response, for the reason that he’d run from the celebrations before the first round of fireworks had even begun,

He thinks that he should… but he just can’t. The words won’t come.

“I know…” she murmurs anyway, “…It’s alright”

His lower lip is quivering as her palm drifts across his jaw. She swipes at the corner of it with her thumb, removing the last trace of cream from his face.

“Will you stay here with me?”

There’s a waver in his voice that makes Y/N’s heart ache in her chest. His arms are still around her. He’s still trying to hide against her front, despite being way too big.

“Please” Bucky hears himself add, “Please, doll— I—”

“Of course I’m stayin’ with you” she replies calmly, “What did you think I was gonna do, huh? Stop in just to say hi?”

His face flickers again, but this time, instead of landing on manic, it settles on relieved.

“C’mere, Buck” she soothes, shifting around a little, “You wanna’ stay down here?”

She already knows that he does. If he’d have wanted to be on the bed, he’d have gotten onto the bed but it’s clear that he’s picked his position deliberately. It’s got a clear view of the exit, of the door to the bathroom and the one, blind-covered window, and, it’s low, it’s low and there are two solid walls behind him offering cover.

“Yeah, darlin’… please, I… I wanna stay here”

She’s unsurprised. The shame in his voice is more than enough to make her smile, wide and reassuring.

“I’ll grab us some pillows and another blanket”

Bucky can barely believe his eyes as he watches her get up and do just that.

He’s overwhelmed, by the way he’s feeling, by the sound that’s building outside, it’s just the bustling murmur of a crowd, but it’s a promise of more entertainment, though, to him it seems more like a threat;

“You done with this?” Y/N guesses, toeing at the half-drained mug of cocoa.

He bites his lip, brow furrowing as he nods, not quite understanding why the idea of finishing his drink is making him want to vomit.

“Alright,” she says, moving it and throwing down two cushions from their bed, “C’mon then, let's get comfy”

Before he opens he can formulate any reply, any kind of way of thanking her, she’s folding down beside him, arms opening in an invitation that he can’t even think about declining.

He crawls up between her legs, looking increasingly bashful as he approaches her chest.

“W-why is it so loud, doll?”

Y/N tilts her head, confused.

“Why is what so loud?”

For a second, he thinks that maybe he’s finally snapped, that his mind has finally reached its limit and cracked under the pressure, but then, he draws in a breath and focuses, he focuses in on the distracting hum of noise that’s making him so on edge—

“…Outside…” he gulps, trying to sound confident, even as her fingers slip back up to his temples, stroking his hair back behind his ears, “…the crowd…?”

Y/N pauses, listening.

“I can’t hear it,” she says honestly, “To be honest, sweetheart- I can barely hear the fireworks”

Her thumb brushes the top of his ears, drifting down an inch to muffle them for a moment. The break from the sound is nice, even if the sudden lack of one of his senses is disturbing.

“So why—”

“Super soldier perk,” she says, bringing her lips to his brow, “Remember how Steve has earplugs?— He uses them to sleep, and for things like this, we offered you some when you first got here, but-”

“I hated them” he recalls, because he did, he did hate the way they made everything so quiet, it was too close to being drugged, it was too close to the ways HYDRA used to keep him sometimes, when he’d done something wrong, or when they wanted to ensure his pliancy, “I tried, I… I swear—”

“I know you did” Y/N promises, smoothing his hair back, “It’s okay, like I said… we’ll get better sound-proofing installed in here”

Bucky is about to argue, to tell her that she doesn’t need to do that for him, but then, there’s a particularly loud chorus of cheers that makes him cringe, and all he can do is nod in defeat.

“C’mere” she soothes, guiding him down against her front, “You’re not Steve, love… It’s okay if you’re not at the same place”

He knows that deep down.

He knows that he saw war, that he saw bullets and trenches and dead friends long before Zemo or the train; He knows that there are infinite reasons why he’s so much more sensitive to things, that the other man might barely notice.

He knows, all of that, but he doesn’t care.

He still feels like a failure, like he should’ve been strengthened by his experiences rather than weakened.

but, he doesn’t say anything. He just lets his head fall heavy against her chest and relishes in the feeling of her heart beating beneath his head.

With a deep stab of longing, he thinks about her letting him spend the night in her arms.

That would feel an awful lot like mercy, he thinks, and he’s not quite sure if that’s something he’s ever been worthy of.

Y/N listens to the sound of grinding metal as the plates in his arm strain beneath the cover he’d been clinging to earlier. He’s tense. Every inch of him is taught and strung with nerves. Instinctually, she curls her fingers across his head, carding through his hair in a bid to soothe him.

It seems to work, his body gives a lame attempt at a tremor, but then, he goes back to being a placid weight, soft and gentle in her arms.

“Let’s get you warmed up, love” she whispers, trying to stay quiet now that she knows just how overstimulated he is, “and then FRIDAY can dim the lights for us”

Bucky does his best to help her pull the other quilt over both of their bodies, but really, from where he’s poised between her thighs he’s not really able to do much more than curl impossibly further into her, as she tucks him in with a satisfied hum.

and then, the lights are lowering, and he’s trying his best not to cry.

Y/N hushes him sweetly, feeling the way he’s starting to surrender.

Feeling the way his chest is starting to loosen.

She thinks he’s going to reign it back in, until suddenly, the fireworks start up again.

There are bangs so loud that even she doesn’t like them, and they’re underpinned by the rattling of quick-fire crackers that Tony loves so much.

He shatters in her arms, sobbing lamely as he holds onto her hips in the dark.

It’s way too much. It’s a wall of noise, of loud cracks and gunfire—

“I… I want them to stop…” he simpers, “Please… please I… I’m … I’m-scared… I’m so scared…”

Y/N’s heart breaks. It cracks, straight down the middle when she hears the man she loves begging her to do something that she can’t.

“Baby boy” she soothes, bringing her palm down and flattening it over the ear that’s not pressed into her front, “You’re okay…I’m right here”

He knows that. He’s clutching onto her for dear life, weeping and shaking like a wounded stray.

The constant barrage of sound feels like torture. It feels like something handlers would’ve done to punish him, but at least he’s not on his own. At least he’s held and loved, and—

God, her hand is on his head, he can hear her pulse, he can feel her body against his, trying to remind him of his safety, and that’s the only reason that he’s not clawing at his own skin to try and find some kind of escape.

There’s a break then whilst the next display is prepared, and all he can manage to do, is blink up at her with terrified blue eyes.

“Hey” Y/N whispers, stroking under his eyes, “Did you ever go into a bomb shelter?”

His brow furrows.

He doesn’t know why she’s asking him that, he knows the answer though;

“Yeah” he sobs, “W-with my Steve-a-and my sisters”

She nods considerately, praying that they’re not going to start the show up again just yet.

“and what did you used to do?”

She knows this is risky, but she’s hopeful all the same,

“I…” he sniffs, “I- I think we- we used to play games?”

He remembers laughter, children’s laughter, and Steve’s sick, wheezing chuckle.

“a-and we used to…We… We used to sing, we used… used to do anythin’ to make noise so- so the kids wouldn’t g-get spooked”

That makes her smile again, she hopes he knows where she’s going with this;

“Do you remember when I used to sing to you?” she asks softly, “I don’t think you were really listenin’ but—”

“I… I was…” he tells her honestly, “…I- I couldn’t… I- I didn’t understand…”

Well no, she thinks, You wouldn’t have done.

It was something she’d do, sometimes, when The Solider was fresh off a wipe, or when he’d clearly had it too rough for too long…

“…I…” he sniffs, “…I… I was j-just… I… I l-liked y-you b-bein’ c-close and nobody… nobody sp-spoke to me l-let alone s-sang I… I— god, I—I don’t—I don’t think I can take this noise, Y/N”

He’s shaking like he’s having a fit.

She’s holding him close, and then there’s there’s the faraway squeal of a rocket.

Before the bang can go off, she starts,

“There’ll be blue birds over… the white cliffs of dover… tomorrow… just you wait and see”

Her voice is like honey, it’s dripping over his soul, soothing the frayed, painful edges like a balm—

“There’ll be love, and laughter… and peace ever after, tomorrow… just you wait and see”

By the time she’s on the second verse, the tremors have stopped, and by the end of the song, so has his weeping.

The fireworks haven’t finished, though and when he realises that the melody is drawing to a close, he blinks at her, desperate not to lose the relief she’s offering;

With a soft smile, she leans in to kiss his brow again, before drawing back a fraction and starting up on a whole new song.

This time, the bangs stop before she does. His chest is rattling, he’s sniffling and trying not to fall back into hysterics—

“They’re not going to let up for a couple’of hours” Y/N warns him, “Wanna give those ear plugs another shot?”

She’s stroking the side of his face like he’s precious. Like he’s not a cowering, whimpering mess.

“If I was a dog they’d shoot me”

That makes her laugh, which had been his goal, really, so, he manages a smile, even though he’s still on the verge of breaking down all over again.

“I don’t think that’s true” she purrs, drying his cheeks with her fingers, “I think if you were a dog I’d be doin’ the exact same thing”

It’s his turn to laugh then. It’s shakier, but still, it’s real.

Then, they’re both smiling at each other. She’s watching him with such hopeless affection that he wants to start bawling all over again.

“I think some ear plugs, and lots of cuddlin’ is probably the way to go” she tells him, already thinking about where some earplugs might be.

With any luck, her old pair will be in her dresser— though, god only knows how long it’s been since she’s looked for them.

“They… they make everything so quiet” Bucky hears himself say, “I know that’s the point… I- I just don’t like it”

Y/N nods, understanding his objection.

“You don’t like this noise much either” she says fairly, “ I can’t do anything to stop the party, it’s way too late now, and it’s going to last most of the night, even when the displays trail off…”

“There’ll be music” he murmurs, “and- and the people are goin’ to get louder”

“Probably” she agrees, “Since I’m assumin’ there all makin’ use of the free bar”

Bucky nods, understanding that he’s not going to have a pleasant night regardless of the details. All he can do is try and make the best of it, and hope that she might understand that he’s not acting this way deliberately.

“I think they figured it out pretty early on,” he says, when she prises herself out from underneath him, “That I was scared of the dark”

Y/N hums in soft acknowledgement, but continues her search for the ear-plugs, knowing that he doesn’t need her direct attention just yet—

“I… I don’t know what gave it away, or.. hell, I— I might’ve just told them— but, I— I remember them usin’ it when I— When I wasn’t actin’ right…”

He’s not really speaking to her, he’s just, speaking because getting things like this out is helpful. It’s therapeutic in a way, being able to acknowledge things without feeling judged.

“…then they started with the mask” he continues, as she starts digging through the second draw, “so I, I couldn’t speak— not that I’d dare talk to myself often, but… sometimes when it was real dark, I— I think I’d whisper, or, or maybe I’d try and repeat things I’d heard…”

Pretending that her heart isn’t breaking isn’t easy, but she knows any sign of emotion from her won’t be particularly helpful right now, so she keeps her back to him, as she starts digging through trinkets she’d forgotten she owns.

“…then they… they put the ear pieces in, or… if— if I’d done somethin’ bad they’d just, just put the hood on and I— I’d just, lose it.”

She grimaces at that and is glad he can’t see the look of disgust on her face.

“I couldn’t hear anythin’ in that thing,” he says, voice shaking, “I… I don’t even know how I was breathin’ in it— it— it was like a second skin it was so tight, and dark, and I— god, I— I, I was always real sorry real fast…”

Gotcha, Y/N thinks, picking up the box containing her prize.

She doesn’t turn back yet, though, she needs a minute to compose herself, to cleanse her face from the upset she’s sure is still visible there.

“and the drugs I’d get before… before they’d put me in the tank, doll— sometimes I— sometimes everythin’ would go real hazy and I— I’d just hear my blood racin’ through my body and I— I’d know bad things where coming—”

“Nothing bad is coming” she promises, looking at him now.

He meets her eyes, before bringing his palm up to swipe at his reddened nose.

He nods, with an expression so vulnerable that she has to stop herself from running back to his side.

“Nobody is ever going to hurt you like that again,” she says, slowly folding herself back down onto the floor, “and if these don’t help… if you don’t like them being in, then you can take them right back out”

She’s showing him the small pieces of plastic and rubber. They look harmless, he thinks, they look functional and easy to remove, should he need to.

“and your staying with me” he murmurs, tentatively reaching out for her hand, “W-would… would ya’ let me curl up with ya’ again?”

“Sure” she replies, bringing his fingers up to her lips, “you can always come curl up with me, baby, always— I swear”

As she presses a trail of kisses across his knuckles, he feels tears rolling across his cheeks again.

That’s all I want, he thinks, I just want to stay with you

Y/N knows he’s past his limit, she knows how hard he’s trying to hold it all together and she also knows from the way that even she can make out the cheering from outside that something big is about to start;

“C’mon, handsome” she instructs, guiding him back down between her legs, “Snuggle up, as close as ya’ like”

He gets impossibly close. He presses his entire front against hers and then, he very, very bravely, slips his metal hand up, under the thick material of her sweater so that he can feel the bare skin of her ribs with his palm.

She watches him blinking at her hopefully, as more tears drip down from the tip of his nose.

It’s so sweet that all he wants is to feel her, that all she can do is nod, bringing the hand of his that she’d been holding down so that he can slip that one into place as well.

Bucky hears himself whispering a ‘thank you’ as her fingers begin to tuck his hair back behind his ears. He shuts his eyes and breathes in deep, focusing on the way he can feel her body, warm and soft around him, as she secures the earplugs in place.

Everything goes silent.

The hectic chorus from outside is gone, but, so is everything else.

Her breathing is gone, the sound of his own breathing is gone.

He can’t hear her, and then, he realises with a terrible start, that he can’t see her either.

Blue eyes snap open, wild and anxious.

He hadn’t meant to shut them, but, fear will do that, she supposes.

She knows her saying anything will only upset him further since he won’t hear her words. So, she smiles instead and lets her hands slip around to cup his jaw.

and then, when he finally starts to calm down, she lets one hand fall away, before raising it up so that he can see;

‘It’s okay’ she signs, trying her best to form the shapes correctly, ‘I love you’

He watches her fingers moving, curling into the letters that he doesn’t remember learning to recognise.

He does recognise them though, he pieces her messages together almost instantly and feels his breathing start to deepen.

He still can’t hear it, which is unnerving, but at least he’s not in the dark anymore, and if he tries hard enough he can feel her pulse through the sensors that are woven across the surface of his vibranium palm.

“I love you too,” he says aloud, with a voice so shaky and unsure that it makes her whole body ache for him, “Can we keep the lights on?”

I can’t stop being able to see too, he thinks, I can’t.

Y/N nods and smiles, secretly proud of how he’s bringing himself to speak;

‘Drink?’ she signs, and Bucky knows it’s a question from the tilt in her head.

He shakes his head, before slowly, lowering it to her chest.

“I just want you,” he says, louder than he’d meant to, “I just need you”

Her sign language isn’t really good enough to reply, so she just holds him a fraction tighter, pressing her lips into his head as he starts to let himself sag back into her front.

The next round of fireworks is well underway, now, and it’s loud enough for even Y/N to make out the different types of crackers, as well as gauge how well each is being received by the roar of the crowd, which she thinks must be close to deafening, for those around it.

He’d hate it, she knows that he’d be freaking out if he’d been able to hear any part of it.

Luckily, he can’t, so he stays relatively calm.

As time trickles on, she begins to stroke his back with one hand, whilst the other works at carding back his hair, soothing him with her touch, figuring, based on his earlier recollections that the physical contact might be appreciated.

It is.

He loves it. He loves the feeling of her touching him.

It’s comforting in a way he’d never be able to describe. The rhythm is so calm, it’s a gentle back and forth against his skin, it’s helping him breathe deep-

Y/N only realises he’s asleep when he starts to snore.

She loves him, she loves him so, so much that the picture of him, curled up against her chest makes her heart physically ache.

He’s just precious.

Waking him would be cruel. He barely sleeps enough as it is and his passing out tonight seems like a miracle, one that’s unlikely to be repeated—

She uses the hand not in his hair to bring the covers up, tucking him in more securely against her chest, before she just… sits, more than happy to just let him rest with her.

The party goes on for hours.

It’s well past 4 a.m. when the ruckus finally dies down, and at that point, Y/N has been drifting in and out of sleep for a while.

Of course, that’s when Bucky stirs.

He blinks his eyes open, startled by the absurd lack of sound. The tensing of his body wakes his partner, who sensing his concern wastes no time in carding through his hair again, slipping her fingers around to the plugs still in his ears.

“Hey, handsome” she whispers, voice thick with sleep, “I think we missed the party”

He can hear her, now. That calms him, it helps tug him out from the nest of quiet panic he’d been in just moments before;

“I… I slept?”

Y/N nods, stroking his cheek.

“yeah, baby— we slept.”

He seems to like that. Or maybe it’s the way she’s touching him that he likes.

Either way,

“We slept a long time” she continues, “You did real good, baby… and you kept me nice and warm”

Bucky cracks a smile at that, at the way he’s clearly smothering his partner but she doesn’t seem to mind.

“I love ya’” he murmurs, hiding his nose against her jaw, “-‘m sorry we missed it, doll I— I know it’s no fun being’ with me when ‘m just cowerin’ in a corner-”

“I didn’t miss anything” she replies, “I’ll take cuddling up with you over a party any time”

Again, the honesty in her tone is what captivates him. It helps him sag back into her front, deciding to wallow in his guilt silently, instead of out loud.

It’s still pathetic, he thinks bitterly, That I’m a grown man who can’t handle fireworks-

“Shall we sneak downstairs and get some left-overs?”

The mischievous lilt she’s using makes him smile despite his mood.

“It’s your house” he reminds her softly, “We don’t have to sneak”

“Our house” she corrects lightly, “but, I suppose you’re right.”

He’s going to argue with her about his right to be in the tower, she can read it all over his face. She decides to cut him off with a kiss, silencing his attempt at self-deprecation before it can start.

It works. Her lips against his is a wonderful distraction- Bucky thinks he could drown in the affection, he thinks that that would be a wonderful way to go.

“Come with me?”

He can’t refuse her, he doesn’t want to, anyway. He’d follow her anywhere and be happy about it, especially if she’d hold his hand along the way.

She doesn’t let go until they’re safely in the kitchen, having avoided a past-out Tony on the way.

“He’s going to pretend he went up to his room with those girls he was talking to-,” she says, rummaging through the food that’s still strewn across the counters, “-He probably had a chance, too- shame he-”

“Drank three bottles of Jack?”

Y/N hums in agreement, pushing a paper plate loaded with plastic-looking snacks towards him-

“and plenty of beer” she clucks, satisfied with the way he’s accepted her offering, “anyway, I almost feel bad for house-keeping-”

“Almost?” Barnes asks, raising a brow at the mess

“We pay them enough” she shrugs, heading over to the couch that looks the least disturbed, “Trust me”

Masterlist

[girlylukehughes]

peace

part three of the folklore hockey fic!

warnings: implied smut(no real smut)

part one, part two. part three, part four

y/nhughes just posted!

liked by markestapa and 334,635 others

y/nhughes: But I'm a fire and I'll keep your brittle heart warm, if your cascade, ocean wave blues come."

tagged: markestapa

load comments...

_quinnhughes: i feel like i missed something.

—y/nhughes: quinn when he doesn't use instagram or read the family groupchat

——_quinnhughes: …

_quinnhughes: anyways... happy for you ig!

—y/nhughes: thanks quinnifer😁

markestapa: we’re so cute

—y/nhughes: the cutest

——lhughes06: im gonna vomit

———y/nhughes: vomit butterflies and rainbows right? because we are sooooo cute

————lhughes06: no.

user1: the way he looks at her i'm on the floor

edwards.73: still no photo creds i see how it is. next time i'm posting incriminating evidence.

—y/nhughes: markestapa should we be scared?

——markestapa: i don't think so????

———edwards.73: y/nhughes markestapa yes.

load more comments...

markestapa just posted!

liked by y/nhughes and 446,728 others

markestapa: And you know that I'd swing with you for the fences, sit with you in the trenches, give you my wild, give you a child — give you the silence that only comes when two people understand each other.

tagged: y/nhughes

load comments...

lhughes: MY EYES WHAT THE FUCK

lhughes: GET THIS OFF MY SCREEN

dylanduke25: luke is sitting with his head between his knees and is pulling his hair out

—y/nhughes: send pics

———markestapa: please do

jackhughes: WOAH WOAH WOAH BACK THE FUCK UP

—y/nhughes: go away

y/nhughes: when he listens to folklore and gets it >>>>

—markestapa: only for you

——y/nhughes: mwah mwah mwah mwah

_quinnhughes: jackhughes never send me this shit again i need to go bleach my eyes and call my therapist.

_quinnhughes: also y/hughes i will call mom.

—y/nhughes: mom follows both of us she's already seen it. ur threat = empty

——_quinnhughes: i hate you.

edwards.73: my final straw. incriminating evidence being posted in 5 minutes.

load more comments...

edwards.73 just posted!

liked by dylanduke25 and 346,879 others

edwards.73: here's an explanation for each photo:

pic 1: y/nhughes and markestapa fucked up by not giving me photo creds

pic 2: video footage from the ring doorbell after their first date(luke learn to check the cameras) y/n actually ended up kicking mark in the face on accident. mark told the team he got jumped.

pic 3: y/n stole these from lhughes06 closet at the lake house and made us break into the park.

pic 4: me and y/nbff helping y/n break into marks room at the soph house. once again, luke learn how to check the cameras.

pic 5: y/n asked mark if she could do his make up. he happily obliged and got mad when i didn't say he was pretty.

pic 6: y/n and mark plotting how mark is going to get out of the lake house before me and luke got back because he wasn't supposed to be there for another day. luke i swear to god look at your surroundings.

pic 7: this one i'll probs get in trouble for, but, this how i found out about y/n and mark. he came back from their "tutoring session" like this. y/n girl, cut your nails.

pic 8: peace out bitches. give me photo creds next time there's more where this came from.

load comments...

y/nhughes: what the actual fuck

—y/nhughes: markestapa i think we have a stalker

——markestapa: jesus christ ethan

y/nhughes: also no i will not cut my nails mark likes them

lhughes06: this is MY last straw. how long have they been together for fucks sake.

dylanduke25: holy shit he actually did it

rutgermcgroarty: ethan i think you have a problem

load more comments...

masterlist

[noxemma]

Chapter two for my Hot Summer Art fic is up!

I might actually get to posting all of these before the end of the month if I can keep up this pace 😂

Tags, Rating, Word Count, AO3 link, etc. at the bottom

Beside Your Side

Fic Summary: Dean convinces Sam to look into a potential case where people are going missing from a New Jersey beach town. Of course, they have to bring Cas and Eileen along, just in case it's not a monster. Dean is excited to get the case over quickly and enjoy a well-earned vacation with the people he loves the most. Nothing ever seems to go the way Dean plans it though, and this case is no exception.

Chapter 2: Nothing Wrong with Floral

Dean

Dean starts to relax and enjoy himself as Baby cruises through the downtown area. The windows are down, his rock mix is blasting, and Cas in his old AC/DC shirt leaning toward the open window with the sun on his face looking gorgeous.

I guess I should have expected he wouldn’t have much in the way of casual clothes. It’s not like we’ve ever taken a vacation before, and his standard suit and trench coat usually suffice for any government position we impersonate.

Dean glances over at Cas again and tries to ignore the way his heart feels like it’s been replaced with warm goo. Cas is resplendent in the early evening glow, the light emphasizing his high cheekbones and contrasting against the scruff that’s grown over the last few days. Sunbeams and wind play through his hair and Dean can see the glint of grey that’s started to sprout ever since he’s become nearly human.

God, it only makes him more attractive though, Dean thinks, running a hand through his own hair self-consciously. Don’t know if I quite pull it off the way that he does.

“Dean?”

Dean suddenly finds blue eyes staring back at him quizzically. One brow arches and Dean gulps at the way his stomach tries to take up residence in his throat.

“Wha-what?”

“I believe a green light indicates that it is your turn to go, correct?” Cas snarks and Dean is so tempted to lean in and kiss the smile off his face.

Thankfully a car horn saves him from himself, prompting him to hit the gas and speed through the intersection. Cas goes back to enjoying the sun and Dean resolutely focuses on finding a parking space near the address Sam gave him. He ends up getting lucky with a spot in the shade and they don’t even have to walk that far to the pretty townhouse belonging to Bradley's sister. Cas stops Dean just before he knocks on the door.

“Dean, are you sure I shouldn’t just wait in the car? I was pretty useless at this the last time I tried to help, and I can’t imagine I’ve gotten much better. I don't have 'people skills' like you and Sam." Cas actually uses air quotes, but the insecurity in his voice sucks all the humor out of the idiosyncrasy.  

“You weren’t useless, you were just … awkward. You were trying to be too much like me and Sam; do it exactly how we do it. Just be yourself and I’m sure you’ll be alright.” Dean winks at him, immediately regrets the action when Cas’ brows pinch together, and spins around to knock on the door before he can stick his foot further into his mouth.

The door swings inward to reveal an attractive woman in her mid-twenties.

“Um, can I help you?” The woman crosses her arms and stares defiantly as if she can’t think of any greater inconvenience than two strangers showing up on her doorstep. “Hello, I'm Dean and this is Castiel,” Dean introduces them, completely unfazed by her attitude and laying on the charm thick. “We’re podcasters and we were hoping to interview you for an episode on-"

“You two, podcasters? Yeah, sure and I’m a mermaid on the full moon. Get off my porch before I call the cops,” she rolls her eyes and retreats into the house.

“Wait, please,” Cas calls out before she can fully slam the door. When she opens the door a few inches, he steps in front of Dean to address her. “I apologize for him. He doesn’t think people will talk to us if we tell them the truth. You see, we’re both actually really into true crime and missing people. It all started when his father went missing, and it’s become somewhat of a hobby and an obsession since then. Helping others find their loved ones gives him a bit of the closure he never got.”

Dean’s pretty sure his jaw is on the floor, and it stays there as the woman eyes them up and down before sighing and opening the door fully.

“Ugh, fine. Come in. You get three minutes.”

“Thank you,” Cas responds graciously, leaving Dean standing dumbstruck on the porch.

“God, I’m such a sucker for sad blue eyes,” the woman says to Cas’ retreating form. She turns a calculating gaze onto Dean, eyeing him up and down before carefully saying, “Your boyfriend gets you to do whatever he wants with those things, doesn’t he?”

What? He’s not actually-,” Dean stops himself because it feels like a trap. Plus, he doesn’t want this woman to know that Cas isn’t actually dating him. Not when she’s staring at his backside appreciatively. “Uh, yeah, but don’t tell him that. I don’t think he’s figured out what a sucker I am yet.”

Like what you read? You can find the rest of the chapter here on AO3

Rating: Explicit

Chapters: 2/? (hopefully 9 😂)

Chapter Word Count: ~8,400

Tags: No Archive Warnings Apply, Castiel/Dean Winchester, Eileen Leahy/Sam Winchester, Case Fic, Established Eileen Leahy/Sam Winchester, Beach Case, Cannon when convenient, Mutual Pining, Idiots in Love, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Past Implied/Referenced Rape/Non-con (Dean and background characters), Non-Consensual Touching (Not between Dean and Cas), Hurt/Comfort, I promise it's not as dark as it sounds, Fluff, Eventual Happy Ending, Eventual Smut, clueless Sam Winchester, Chick-Flick Moments, Cannon typical misunderstandings, Angst?, One day I'll learn how to tag, WIP, JackieDeeArt's Hot Summer Art 2024 (Supernatural), Hot Summer Art, Greek Mythology if you Squint, No Beta, Everyone is bad with words, Except Eileen who is the only emotionally stable person for miles, Dean Winchester Loves Castiel, Castiel Loves Dean Winchester, Angel Grace Dysfunction

[softspeirs]

Then and There, Wind in Your Hair (Bill “Hoosier” Smith x OC)

Pairing: Bill “Hoosier” Smith x Female OC (could be read as an un-named OC or a reader insert) Summary: After their meeting in Melbourne, Hoosier writes a few letters, dreams a few dreams, and finds her again after coming home. A/N: I know what you’re thinking - “Katie, aren’t you neck deep in your Masters of the Air hyper fixation?!” and the answer is yes, but I just had to write a companion piece to Clouds Overhead. You don’t have to read that one first, but some elements might make more sense if you do. Disclaimer: I don’t own The Pacific. Please don’t repost, translate, or use this fic for AI without my permission.

And we both laid entwined, stared at the night Clouds overhead, but that was all right ‘Cause then and there with the wind in your hair Heaven was jealous to merely look fair against you

He can’t remember how many days it’s been since he was in Melbourne.

Sometimes, when he closes his eyes, he’s able to block out the rapid pounding of his heart and the distant ack-ack of machine gun fire and remember the sound of the waves on the beach, the feeling of her hair tickling his jaw.

There’s a part of him that’s worried he’s going to forget her face, though he’s not sure how that’s possible. 

He’s worried about a lot of things. Worried is standard operating procedure these days. 

They haven’t been able to get mail out in weeks, the shelling too intense for anything even resembling a CP or a supply depot to be set up, even behind the lines. The lines change rapidly in the Pacific, and he’s not sure he’s brave enough to try to find it even if he did have a letter to send to her.

He’s surprised when they’re finally taken off the line, and there’s mail waiting for him.

Bill, it starts, and he smiles, because she’s the first person in a long time that almost outright refuses to call him Hoosier.

Bill, 

I’m sorry I didn’t get a chance to see you off. The War Department has us all running around like chickens with our heads cut off getting ready for our next deployment.

I’m not sure where we’ll be going yet, and I probably wouldn’t be able to tell you if I did. I just hope wherever it is, it’s not as hot as it was in the Philippines when I was there. 

Mostly, I hope this whole thing is over soon. I know it’s naïve of me. I signed up to go to war, and I don’t regret it, but I’m tired. I know you are too.

I hope wherever you are, you’re safe. 

Thinking of you.

x

She signs it off with a metaphorical kiss, and he feels his heart kick into overdrive. He knows it’s dangerous, but he’s starting to dream about someday, and he can’t stop himself. 

Surprisingly, the other guys don’t rag on him about it. They ask him a few questions, but they’re all so distracted about whatever’s coming next, there’s no thought about razzing anyone who’s finding a little slice of joy in anything outside of this hell hole. 

He writes her back when he finally has a minute to think. 

It’s been a long week, I think. He tells her. 

I don’t really know how long it’s been since we were in Melbourne, but I think about it almost every day. 

He wonders if he’s showing his hand too much, but he can’t help himself.

I hope you’re safe. I hope you’re far from the lines, wherever they are, and that things aren’t too bad. We were pulled off the line for a few days here, but I don’t think it’s going to last long. 

“Hoosier.” Leckie says, voice hesitant like he hates to be the one to break him out of his letter writing. “We’re moving out.” 

Bill sighs. Of course. Not a moment’s reprieve.

I think about you often. He scratches, hesitating only a moment. And I hope that’s okay with you, because it’s just about the only thing getting me out of the trench in the morning. 

I hope you’re safe. I’m going to do my best to try to stay safe too. 

Yours, 

Bill

. 

He writes to her nearly every day. He knows she’ll probably get a few of the letters all at once since the mail is so backed up, but he has nowhere else to put his thoughts, and it’s sending him half insane.

Most of his notes to her are mundane, stories about his guys and only a little bit about the mess going on in his brain. If she were here in person, he’s sure she’d look him dead in the eyes and demand he tell her what he’s thinking, but he tries to shield her from it, at least a little bit.

Her letters are the same, stories about the friends she’s making and at the bottom of one, a piece he rips off and shoves in his trunk - her address back home in Chicago. 

Just in case something unexpected happens, I expect you to call on me, Private Smith. I’ll wait for you. There’s no one else.

It brands him like a tattoo right above his heart, on his breastbone where no one but him can see. 

I’ll wait for you. 

It’s the last thought he has right before it all goes to hell.

.

When he wakes up in a hospital a week later, he’s half out of his mind with exhaustion and morphine. Still, his first thought is of her. 

He asks about her, and the nurse frowns at him. “No one here with that name, sugar. Sorry.” 

Did he dream her? 

Did his brain invent her just as a survival tactic to make it out alive?

When he sleeps, he does dream of her. He dreams of them. He dreams of that cookie cutter life with the white picket fence, and her smile. He pictures tangerine sunsets and a backyard barbecue. He pictures a little girl with her eyes and his smile. 

When he wakes, he wishes he could fall back asleep.

He doesn’t get any mail, and he doesn’t have the time or the energy to write any letters himself. He’s hauled day after day into an empty room for rehabilitation, where a nice Lieutenant named Lanie listens to him curse a blue streak as he tries to put weight on his leg. 

“Lanie, I’m beggin’ you to just write down that you saw me walk.” 

She frowns. “No can do, Private. Besides, what good is that going to do you? Don’t want to get your dancing shoes on again someday?”

He snorts. “Who’s going to teach me how not to have two left feet?” 

She shrugs. “I’ll do it. Or how about that girl you keep asking after? I bet she’d be a willing participant.” 

He levels her with a hard gaze. “Lanie, if you know something...” 

“Honest, Hoosier. I don’t know.” She leans in a little closer. “The hospital unit is still on the island and they’re socked in. I haven’t been able to get in touch with my friend there to ask her. You know how it can be.” 

He sighs. “I know. Thanks for trying.” 

“Now do me a favor, will you? Take a few steps so I can get rid of you and go eat some lunch.” 

That night when he can’t sleep, he limps his way down to the mess. There’s a few other guys there, but he finds a table alone. Under dim light, he pens out another letter that he hopes makes it to her.

I’m in the hospital, he writes, his hand shaking a little bit from lack of use. 

I have no idea if you’ll ever get this. I hope you do. I don’t want you to wonder.

What you told me in the last letter I got from you has kept me going. And it goes without saying (hopefully) that I’ll wait for you too.

Another nurse here, Lieutenant Elaine Meadows (don’t call her that, though, she’ll rip your head off. We call her Lanie) said she’ll keep her eyes and ears open for you if you ever make it here, or if one of your letters ever shows up here for me.

At the bottom is my home address in Indiana. Sorry to say, but I think I’ve got a ticket home. 

If you find yourself stateside soon, and God, I really hope you do, please let me know. 

I owe you a date.

Twelve weeks go by. He goes home. And between the agony of his leg and the mess inside his mind, Bill’s morale plummets. 

He’s thrown back into the absolutely insane situation of having to find a job, but he can’t even fathom trying to work for someone so soon after fighting for his life. He has no idea how any of it makes sense anymore.

He almost sleeps through V-E Day, but manages to drag himself out of his bedroom and have a drink with his dad on V-J Day. They’re both quiet, out on the front porch of the house, listening to the revelry from the neighbors.

“You should get out of town for a few days.” His dad says, out of nowhere.

He frowns. “Pop?” He leans forward, wincing as he straightens his leg. “What do you mean?” 

“You need-- you need to get your mind busy again. Take a break from all this, get your mind right, and decide what’s next.” He gives Bill a wry grin. “Besides, where’s that girl of yours, anyway?” 

Bill feels himself pale. “I don’t--”

“Oh, don’t bother. You’re not a very good liar.” 

Bill chuckles. “Guess not.” His hands tap out a rhythm on his knees, his body and mind unable to be still for too long these days. “Chicago.” He says finally. “She’ll be in Chicago.” 

His dad nods. “Interesting.”

.

He still hasn’t heard from her by the time he makes up his mind to just go for it. He’s been seeing in the paper article after article about men and women coming home from overseas, and he just hopes that she’s one of them.

He really doesn’t know what he’s going to do if he shows up on her mother’s doorstep and she’s not there.

The train feels like it’s going slow as molasses. He sits among men and women in uniform, and he feels out of place. He fidgets. He eavesdrops on conversations about the war and about friends they used to know and what happened to them.

His palms start to itch. 

When he arrives at Union Station, he only second guesses himself for a few moments before he seeks a taxi. The ride to the suburbs is nice, and he enjoys watching the trees change color the farther they get from the city. It seems to drag on and yet be over in a flash. He pays the driver, and gets out in front of a large house on a beautiful tree-lined street.

Bill’s hands are sweating. He hears chatter inside the large house, the windows open to let in the autumn breeze, and one voice in particular makes him stop in his tracks and shut his eyes briefly, trying to gather himself.

He knocks, takes a few steps back.

A screen door opens and shuts.

“Oh my god.”

He finally looks up.

.

They sit together on the back porch of her parent’s house, mugs of steaming coffee in their hands, her free hand tucked into his. Her eyes are closed, but the small smile on her lips proves she’s still awake.

He never thought he’d be here. He never thought he’d get this.

“Bill?” 

“Hmm.” 

“I’m--” she sits up, takes her hand out of his. He’s surprised to see her eyes filling with tears, and his heart kicks into overdrive. 

“What?” 

She smiles again. “Sorry. I’m okay, I just-- I can’t really believe we’re here.” She sniffs. “And I’m so sorry that I couldn’t be there for you when you needed me most.” She glances down at his long legs that are stretched out, crossed at the ankles. 

He’s shaking his head before she can even finish her sentence. He straightens, turning sideways to face her. “You were there for me.” He reaches for her face, brushing a wayward lock of hair behind her ear. “Whether you realized it or not, you were.” 

“You didn’t even get a single one of my letters the whole time you were in the hospital--” 

Ever since she opened the front door and ran into his arms, he’s felt more at ease than he ever did in Indiana. Despite his mother’s best efforts, he felt unsettled, and this was the final piece he was missing. Even if he had showed up and she apologized and told him it was just a fling, just a wartime romance never destined to go anywhere, at least he would have known.

But this -- this has the potential to heal him in ways he didn’t know he needed.

“Listen to me,” he says, voice soft but firm. “The thought of you kept me going. It kept me alive, as far as I’m concerned.” 

Her face is a picture. Those doe eyes, a little drier now, looking up at him like he’s hung the moon for her. Doesn’t she know that he thinks that about her, too? He realizes with startling clarity that it’s very possible she has no clue. 

“I’m in this,” he gestures between them, “If you are. You owe me a dance, after all.” 

She grins, laughs. “I thought you had two left feet.”

He shrugs. “Well, maybe now I’ve got an excuse to be bad at it.” 

“I’m in this too. All in.” She whispers. Their faces are so close she could tilt her head only a fraction and close the gap between them.

They linger there, in that so-close-but-not-close-enough state of almost euphoria so long that Bill starts to wonder if he didn’t die on that godforsaken airfield, and this is all something his mind has made up. 

But then she finally kisses him, and it’s just as sweet as the first time, and it sends all his senses kicking into overdrive, and it just confirms it: he’s home.

.

A/N: If you’re craving more of their post-war reunion, a few of those lines are directly from this fic, which has a little more of that scene included.

[hugs4jd]

hiii hope this request is ok :-)

jd x reader who is just as messed up as him? he comes to westerberg and is interested in veronica at first, but one night as he’s riding around on his motorcycle or something, he hears a distant scream and ofc he has to investigate and surprise surprise, there’s reader with a knife in their hand, killing one of the jocks (other than kurt and ram). he is amused and heart eyes immediately

if this is too specific i’m sorry!

(ok for setting context imagine like a straightaway road that’s mostly empty and deserted and a forest right next to it, reader is in the forest close to the road but blocked by a line of trees yk? 🧍‍♀️🌲🛣️ typa thing)

as crazy as me

As you dragged the jock deeper into the woods, you couldn't help but feel a sense of satisfaction. You had planned this for weeks, and now, it was finally coming to fruition. You knew it wasn’t the smartest spot to kill him, you were fairly close to the road but no one drove on it anyways so you’ll be fine, right?

“PLEASE- ILL DO ANYTHING… WANT TO WEAR MY JERSERY AT THE NEXT FOOTBALL GAME SO PEOPLE THINK WE’RE DATING OR-?” his begs were like music to your ears, the sound of the jock who had been tormenting you since prek begging for forgiveness. You gently ran the dull side of your blade against his cheek, letting beads of blood pool up and run down his jaw.

Your plan was to let him bleed out, maybe make deep cuts all across his body until he passes out then finish him off, but your plan changed completely when you heard a motorcycle ride by. Quickly turning around, you peer past a large tree, noticing that strange boy from your school stopping his motorcycle.

“shit” you murmur under your breath, a bit too loudly than expected based on how his head perked up in the direction of your voice. “shit shit shit” you whisper quickly, pacing in front of your tied up prey, trying to think of what to do.

“hmm…” you turn around quickly, coming face to face with the boy, nervously you pull out your knife, ready to kill him “letting him bleed out, huh? you must really hate him” his voice sounds… intrigued? not scared or mad he’s just… admiring your work?

You stare at him, not convinced he won’t call the cops or try to kill you “What the fuck do you want” you grit your teeth, walking closer to him. He playfully puts his hands in the air, just chuckling when you press your knife against his neck

“why don’t you make it look like a suicide?” you lower your guard, putting your knife away but not moving away from him “I mean, when the cops find him it’ll be obvious it’s a murder and they would be after you, a suicide is easier” the boy explained, smirking

you turn back to your victim, nodding your head as you think “so like… slit his wrists? ooh or shoot him… or make him shoot himself!” you start pacing again, a million ideas running through your mind as the jock tries to scream, quickly getting shut up by the unknown boy taping his mouth. “Do you just… bring tape with you wherever you go…?”

“I also bring a gun with me” he holds it out for you, his hand lingering on yours when you carefully grab it. You turn to the jock then to the boy, noticing all his features as he nods in encouragement. As you sit down beside your victim you place the gun in his hand, guiding his finger on the triggering and forcing his wrist around until the weapon faces his own forehead. A chuckle sounds from behind you as you force his finger down, pulling the trigger. “See, now you won’t get caught” he approaches you, kneeling down beside your dead victim.

“Good plan” you smile, looking up at him. A shiver runs down your spine as you cross your arms, trying to keep in all your body heat as a cool wind blows past you.

“It was your plan, i just… helped a bit.” you suddenly feel a heavy trench coat drape over your shoulders “want to come back to my place tonight? I’ll help get the blood out of your clothes” you simply nod, feeling your face heat up as he helps you to your feet, guiding you to his motorcycle.

“Are you ever going to tell me your name?” you tease, holding onto his waist as he starts riding

“I’ll end the suspense, i’m Jason Dean, JD for short”

“JD… glad to meet someone as crazy as me” you said with a laugh

“likewise, we should do this again”

[campbyler]

hi!! since ch4 is getting postponed a bit, will the release dates of the next chapters change so it'll be a 2 week wait in between?

super excited for ch4 btw, take your time!! <3<3<3

hello! this is an excellent question and thank you so much for your patience in getting it answered :^) we have a backlog of asks built up because — as you’ve probably noticed — all three of us have been In The Trenches during the past couple of weeks bc as much as we would love to quit our jobs and write fic all day, that’s unfortunately very impossible rn :/ unless someone wants to venmo us $100k. kidding! mostly. we’ve decided to push the posting schedule up by a week — that way, we’re not struggling to get ch5 up in time and we definitely don’t want to postpone last minute again! we should be back to our usual 2 week schedule after this chapter; however, andi and i are playing hot potato with trading off chapters 5-8, meaning the two of us have 4 weeks to write each one instead of the usual six, and the fall is a very busy season for all of us (andi and thea with work, me with going back to school and working, etc) so it’s very likely a chapter will be postponed in the future as well. we just ask that you guys please continue to have the same patience and flexibility you’ve shown over the last week! i know this was a longer answer than you probably were looking for with this ask alone, but i wanted to take this opportunity to touch on the posting schedule since all of us have been pretty inactive this week 🤸 thanks for understanding!

[whattraintracks]

Okay, so we’re doing this 

Intro: 

I’m sorry with the rain and trench coats all I can think about is “The Maltese Hamster”

oop that’s Karai’s voice 

Present Timeline: 

chatting about the latest adventure with the bestie 

and looking at matrices. Donny is STEM goals 

Time Scepter: so whatchu thinking about?

Donatello’s Brain: indecipherable matrix assault

Time Scepter: oh my gosh, please send him anywhere but here quick quick quickquickquick 

hence he was sent to the future of a near timeline as opposed to an entirely alternate reality 

kidding 

hmm so he’s looking into time travel and alternate dimension related calculations

interesting that this got him sent to the future instead of the past like he and April were talking about 

I’ve seen this scene three times now and it is never not funny how Raph arrives just in time to deliver a sick burn 

Lair Ruins: 

the obvious Chekov's gun of the Tunneler is sending me 

largely because I would not have noticed it if I didn’t already know so much about this episode 

also this has video game vibes 

your character just woke up and starts spouting ominous observations about the environment 

Mike sighting! 

ooh spiky nunchaku 

oh my gosh I am so ready for extremely competent adult mutant ninja turtle fight scenes you have no idea 

ahhhhhhh angry Mike hurts so much 

Montage Across the City: 

the music does not have to go this hard but I am in love with it (p.s. still feeling this way post episode, that soundtrack was phenomenal) 

with Mike’s “We were a team! Without you it just didn’t work.” I can see the back and forth of ‘SAINW happened because it was Donny specifically that disappeared’ and ‘actually this would have happened if any of them had disappeared’ 

Rebel HQ: 

Angel name drop! she has commandos!?! get it girl 

Splinter and Casey both believed Don would come back /sobs/ 

I’m sorry is that Baxter Stockman? in the resistance?? 

I mean, of course he’s alive, cockroach man that he is, but in the resistance??? 

and Hun!?!? 

oh my gosh Hun you’re so melodramatic please 

wild to me that Donny shows up, checks the place out, and just says imma fix this and everyone goes along with it 

I have to wonder 

how long have they been waiting for him to do this exact thing that despite three decades of fear and pain and grief and betrayal and anger and everything else they don’t even question him, they just act? 

how long have they been waiting for Donatello to come back with hope and plan that they couldn’t say no? 

Shredder’s Palace: 

thinking about the cut taxidermy plot and Karai’s report is hilarious 

‘hi. yes, master, it’s me. you know that stuffed turtle you have? someone just saw him running around town. yeah he was attacking our men. killer makeover, doesn’t even look dead’ 

wait isn’t there a Leo centric episode in season four called prodigal son? 

and Shredder just called Don the prodigal son.

oh that comparison is going to ruin me 

Shredder's like nope. I've only made it this far with him gone. make him gone again. 

Some Building IDK: 

wow it is on sight between Leo and Raph 

have they been fighting about the same thing for 30 years? good golly. 

how many times has Donny had to separate these two by whacking them with his bo that was clearly well practiced 

ah I see they were saving the questions, concerns, and rising action for Leo and Raph 

newtrauma what nows? some kind of Utrom soldier? welp guess I'll find out (p.s. transcript says Utrominators so did Leo but the cc said neutromenators so I got lost) 

Shredder’s Palace Again: 

oh well done Donatello! very dramatic entrance! excellent presentation! nailed that cheesy heroic one-liner! 

April came! . . . and so did Hun+Baxter 

ouch that did not end well for them 

OH MY HECK WAIT REWIND THE BRAIN IS BRAINING 

Donny and April (normal timeline) were specifically thinking about UNCLE AUGGIE 

who DISAPPEARED 

so Donny got sent to a universe where HE disappeared 

I’ve connected the dots 

okay back to the show 

Mike seems to be taking the lead here and I like that very much 

wait I wanted the fight scenes but I didn’t want this part /sobs/ 

I’m sorry is Karai still trying to pull the old ‘I actually like you guys don’t make me do something I don’t wanna do’ like girl frickin commit already 

noooooooo—wait how did she slash through his shell? you know what, nevermind—oooooooooooooooo!!! 

gahhhhh Raph's death was so much worse. doesn't matter how prepared I was. I was not 

hooray April with the bazooka! but also girl where were you T^T 

“you are the last of your kind, Donatello” oh that’s particularly cruel 

it’s giving ‘alas, poor yorick’ 

holy crap April 

alone in the ruins of Shredder’s throne room surrounded by the bodies of all that’s left of her family and an entire ruined world to rebuild 

geez Don leave her the easy job