#The way i sobbed writing this and watching this scene

[sapphosclown]

Cynthia’s coming out scene was so heart wrenching, and so beautiful.

First and foremost, I love that it was done non-verbally. As a neurodivergent viewer who sees how neurodivergent Cynthia is, it made the scene that much more impactful. That she was feeling so many things and thinking so many things that all there was to do was shut down. I felt every emotion with her and Ari did an absolutely incredible job portraying those feelings. Not even to mention how Nancy did not assume Cynthia was ignoring her or being rude for a second and completely understood what Cynthia wanted to say.

When Nancy asks what’s wrong, Cynthia says she doesn’t want to talk about it. Nancy, being Nancy, keeps pushing, and starts asking more specific questions. When Nancy mentions Cynthia’s mom, that’s the moment she truly shuts down— which leads to a whole other concept— but easily establishes that Nancy and Cynthia have a trust that has been built that we the audience, haven’t seen.

Nancy tells Cynthia “You can tell me anything” and we can immediately see Cynthia’s thoughts, “not this.” as she shakes her head with so much pain and fear. She wants to trust Nancy so badly, but she’s not allowed to. Nancy assumes “You don’t want to talk about it” and Cynthia shakes her head, but Nancy knows this isn’t a no, she knows “You can’t talk about it.” Which hurts Cynthia even more because Nancy knows her so well but she’s so afraid of admitting to this part of her.

And then Nancy suggests writing instead of talking. Once again, from a neurodivergent standpoint, this was so important to me. But watching as Cynthia slides the paper to Nancy, but not loosening her grip in a desperate attempt to cherish these moments before her best friend turns on her and she loses the last thing she has. But Nancy reads it. The silence is long, the pencil scratching on the paper is taunting Cynthia. And Nancy slides it back. Cynthia doesn’t hesitate in reaching for it and with one glance, it finally all hits her.

The fear, the anger, the despair, the pain, the relief.

It’s so much to bear and suddenly, she doesn’t have to bear it alone. Because Someone accepts her. Someone has proved there is no circumstance in which Cynthia will ever go unloved by them. And in that moment, they are safe to feel it all.

[mechazushi]

Kafka Hibino

Kafka Hibino.... with visible salt and pepper side burns.

Kafka Hibino.... wearing glasses and has salt and pepper side burns.

Kafka HIbino.... in that black turtleneck and a dark brown leather jacket and also wearing glasses and has salt and pepper side burns.

Kafka Hibino.... wearing that outfit and is an Animal Biology Professor in an College Au.

Kafka Hibino..... asking out Hoshina who is an Advanced Mathematics Professor working at the same college, to have an after-work drink with him.

Slightly DRUNK Kafka Hibino... becoming very forward with an also slightly drunk Hoshina

Slightly Drunk Hoshina... immediately matching Kafka's freak tenfold and Kafka is very much fine with this.

[kalevalakryze]



If a reader was to make you fanart from one of your works which scene would you love to see visualized?

Oh asdfghjkl

I’ve never considered it actually

I think it's a run up for aliit ori'shya tal'din, when Bo-Katan was holding Grogu on her chest?

“Family is important, endlessly so. While they do not deserve your love for simply existing, when they are willing to accept you, however you may come, whatever you may have done, we can’t take that for granted,”

The sounds of a pair of footsteps echoed through the hall, and soon enough, the gold and silver duo appeared under the torchlight of the caverns.

“Hey, look at that, our aliit,” She whispered, giving Grogu a gentle nudge, before he was using the force to fling himself into his father’s arms.

Or the runup, because of the wolfwren brainrot, Mine , when Sabine tugs her jacket onto Shin's shoulders and fixes her armor pieces onto it to give them a splash of color?

Once she was on solid ground, Sabine started pulling her arms through her jacket. She’d spent ages sewing each patch on, and they’d meant a lot to her (Shin meant a lot to her, but she wasn’t about to just say that.

Free of the jacket, Sabine ducked around to Shin’s back before the force sensitive could stop her, draping the jacket over her shoulders and giving a thoughtful hum of approval. “Not bad, your armor’s getting in the way though,”

Cheeks red, Shin turned to face Sabine as their brows furrowed. “If this is some excuse to get me out of my armor-“

The Mandalorian shifted to tuck her fingers into the belt around her waist, her other hand grasping the fabric of her skirts in a fist. “kurs’kaded,” A shiver ran down Shin’s spine at the name. “If I wanted to do something, I would have,” Sabine’s voice dropped into a whisper that shot straight to her core. “You wanted to mark me,” She repeated, hand raising to cup Shin’s face, thumb pressing against her bottom lip, barely avoiding the snap of jaws as the blonde tried to bite her thumb. “Maybe I wanted to mark you in a way that meant more to me than a bruise or a scar,”

Shin eyed her with an air of distrust as she reached for their shoulder pauldron, undoing the straps around their biceps to remove the pieces. Sabine tucked them between her knees before helping Shins arms through the sleeves. It was almost a perfect fit, though the force sensitive wouldn’t be able to zip it and still have her full range of maneuverability.

Gently, Sabine reattached the armor to the outsides of the jacket, focusing anywhere but the inquisitive steel blue eyes that had been watching her like a hawk. “See, a splash of color didn’t kill you,”

[seiwas]

i maxxed the tags (what did i expect) but!!

what a soft piece ari 🥺 thank you for sharing this hurt/comfort piece w us!! i think satoru will always be a figure of strength—but i think it’s in part because that’s how he brands himself to be around the people he cares about. he’ll never truly share how he thinks and feels about things, will almost always downplay it really. but he’s always worrying, always aware and cautious, overthinking 🥺 and i felt that loads here!!

there’s a shipwreck stuck between your ribs ; satoru gojo

synopsis; three times satoru sees you cry, and the understanding you gain of each other from it.

word count; 4.6k

contents; satoru gojo/reader, gn!reader, the synopsis speaks for itself i think, copious amounts of hurt/comfort, i just think he’d be so good at comforting u :ccc, also fluff!!, he’s addicted to calling u ”baby,” satoru gojo vs human emotion (he loses)

a/n; pls ignore the fact that 90% of my gojo fics are hurt/comfort ok we dont need to get into that <33 the writing in this one might be a lil rusty but im pretty fond of this gojo :’3

dim lights, buttery popcorn, and boredom.

the senses invading his mind are mellow, coaxing, a little tedious. all he can see are the buzzing lights before him, all he can hear is the insistent chewing of the people around him, and all he can feel is just that:

boredom.

satoru stifles a yawn, resting his cheek on the heel of his palm. he’s trying to pay attention — really, he is. trying to pay attention to the movie he picked out himself, after thoughtful consideration, one he’s been looking forward to watching with you all week. he’s trying his best. but, gosh, it’s just so boring.

or maybe he just doesn’t have it in him today — with all these too-dim lights, too-loud popcorn-chewers, and the too-convoluted plot playing on the big screen in front of him. he has no idea what’s happening, anymore, what scene this is supposed to be. some sob-story? he clocked out a while ago.

so, with nothing better to do — satoru decides to savour another view.

that’s how it always goes. no matter the movie, no matter the snacks, whether you’re watching at home on the couch or a nearby movie theatre — eventually, when his eyelids begin to grow heavy, or when his attention span begins to falter, that blue-soaked gaze of his shifts. a moth to a flame, following his instincts. constantly looking over to see what kind of face you're making. 

after all, your reactions are far more entertaining than any movie could ever hope to be. little sighs of exasperation, jolts and shivers down your spine, or a laughter so bubbly he can’t resist leaning in for a kiss or ten — he loves it. adores it. lives and dies by it. 

so satoru turns his head, and looks at you, knowing you’ll save him from the boredom clutching at his subconscious. 

and something in his chest constricts.

at first, he doesn’t notice it. hungrily lapping over the expanse of your jaw, to your cheekbones, his gaze drinking in everything he can see. scanning your eyes for a hint of emotion; and he finds it. he finds it in something that glimmers in the dim lighting of the theatre, something that has his breath drawing back to the depths of his throat.

tears.

crystalline, dew-drawn, a fresh set of tears clinging to the edge of your lash line. they’ve yet to fall, but satoru sees them — he sees them and he doesn’t know what to do. 

tears. 

tears?

you’re crying.

in the depths of your glassy eyes, he sees a fractured scene — playing against the scope of your iris, as the movie reflects off your pupils. there’s a turmoil there, a sadness, one that has you covering your mouth with the front of your knuckle. and you’re crying.

satoru wants to tease you. he wants to lean over and purr against the shell of your ear, poke fun at you for being so emotional. such a little baby. what else is he supposed to do?

the tricky part is that he can’t. he can’t move, can’t shape his voice into a purr, can’t even speak. he’s frozen in place like a bug trapped in amber, stuck to his seat, unable to do anything but blink at you in what he thinks might be bewilderment.

his breath hitches — and that’s all. 

something about the sight of you makes him falter, makes him stop in his tracks. catches him off guard. he doesn’t know what to do, doesn’t recognize the feeling stirred deep within his chest, something discomforting and foreign. doesn’t understand why his heart feels so itchy, all of a sudden.

then your eyes meet.

and you blink. once, then twice. eyes just a little wide, an embarrassed kind of surprise. he thinks you must be flustered, and he’s proven right when your gaze flees from his.

a mingle of words clog up at the base of his throat. say something, say something, say something. but he doesn’t know what. 

he wets his lips, preparing to part them, but before he can get the first syllable out you're leaning in. close. close enough that he feels your breath ghost against the shell of his ear, close enough that his heart starts skipping the way it always does when you press yourself against him like that’s where you belong.

a whisper. it’s small, hushed, a little frail. but there’s something else, too, laced together with the vowels — amusement. 

”you didn’t tell me this was a sad movie.”

a pout plays at your lips, as you murmur your grievances. but then there’s that amusement; it’s there when you pull back, in the crinkle of your sparkling eyes, the curve of your smile. 

and satoru’s shoulders relax. stiffened bones melting. he exhales a breath he had no idea he was holding, and his heart feels at ease. a grin finds it’s way to his lips, wide, teasing, cheshire and sweet. 

he leans a little closer, bumping his head against yours. gently. ”i think you’re just sensitive, baby.”

his teasing is rewarded with a little huff, as your elbow meets his side. soft. everything you do is soft. 

”oh, shut up,” you scoff. smiling. he’s so relieved that you’re smiling. 

a moth to a flame, following his instincts, satoru brings you closer. an arm around your waist, pulling you into his orbit, until you’re practically sharing seats. searching for your hand — and he finds it, intertwining his long fingers with yours, just to give it a little squeeze.

(for some reason, he feels more protective than usual.)

he feels your gaze. questioning, maybe. but you melt into him quickly, with your head slumped against his shoulder, and his heart settles back into a sleepy rhythm. just watching the movie pass you by.

the dim lighting of the theatre casts a hazy shadow over your face, a tender desaturation, and his eyes stay glued to it when you aren’t looking. the smell of popcorn hangs heavy in the air, salty and buttery, warm and sweet, and he’s almost grateful to feel that familiar boredom tug at his veins.

anything is fine. anything is better than that discomfort, that irritating itch. 

satoru watches the movie flicker by, scene by scene, whispering commentary into your ear and stealing your popcorn with a satisfied hum. chuckling when you whisper-shout at him to cut it out!

he tries not to think of the glittering tears at your lash line, and almost succeeds.

rain clouds, cups of chamomile, and frustration.

it seeps out into the open air, engulfing your living room in a feverish haze. thick and suffocating; the scent of heavy rain, lukewarm tea, and that ugly, ugly feeling underneath his skin.

it pulses. it itches. and oh, how it aches.

satoru hates it. he hates feeling angry, feeling upset — hates when either of those emotions are in connection to you. hates it, hates it, hates it more than anything.

he does everything he possibly can to avoid it; his eyes are keen, always have been, and he can see when that thin line he shouldn’t cross crawls a little too close for comfort. when the rubber band of your patience just snaps. he sees all your buttons, knows which ones not to push. he knows you.

and, more importantly, more than anything — nothing you do could ever make him angry at you. 

(well, at least that’s what he thought.) 

satoru’s anger is a fickle thing, controlled, kept under wraps. it’s a slow process; it simmers, boils, a cup of chamomile brewed too long. and then it all but invades his senses. it never gets the best of him, never, but right now he can feel it — little pinpricks against his skin, a frustration that stirs his guts and has his eyes going cold.

satoru towers over you, like this. full height on display. not slouching or draping himself over furniture, but standing tall, and proud, and menacing. he isn’t smiling, and that’s all you need to know that he’s upset with you. his eyes are layered over with discontentment. 

a sigh spills from his lips, a little gruff, unmistakably annoyed. it slices the silence of the room in half, and a shiver travels down your spine. he doesn’t notice it. his voice has a rough edge to it, something firm. something that doesn’t sound like it could come out of his mouth at all.

”don’t act like such a child.”

a flinch. or maybe more like a jolt; this time, he notices, but it’s too late. he’s in too deep, boiled water licking at his ankles, pulling him down. frustration nips at his skin, and he can’t quite seem to push it away.

and you’re just so, so unaccustomed to it. unaccustomed to seeing him wear anything but a smile, unaccustomed to that cold gaze, usually nothing but warm and fond when it meets your own. this isn’t like him.

it’s not like him at all.

swallowing thickly, you do your best to calm down. but before you can make any attempt to contain it, wetness begins to gather in the corners of your eyes. pooling, little droplets yearning to fall.

satoru notices them instantly. he sees that sad glimmer, framed by the murky darkness seeping in from beyond the curtains, accompanied by the symphony of pitter patter against the windowpane. tears, much like the rain beating down outside.

and his chest goes cold.

a tiny sniffle pushes past your lips, and the dam inside you begins to break — tears tripping over your lash line, rolling down your cheeks. cascading across your pretty face. the air fills with a sense of dread, and both of you seem to be thinking the exact same thing.

(oh, fuck.)

satoru notices, belatedly, that his throat has gone dry. that his heart feels itchy, again. it itches and itches but he can’t do anything to soothe it, and your tears continue to fall. 

his heart begins to crack. right down the middle, like a gash in the reflection of a puddle, right across his chest. it hurts.

an inhale, then an exhale. you’re still trying to keep it all together, grasping for control over your emotions, but it’s not going too well. the little breaths that escape your throat are shaky at best, hands trembling as you wipe the tears away with the front of your wrists. and your voice sounds a little like it’s about to crumble away. 

”sorry,” you squeak, taking a step back. there’s a silent panic in the gesture, one that makes satoru want to get down on his knees. ”i’ll just — i’ll leave —”

he wants to stop you. he needs to stop you. but he does nothing, nothing at all, even as you stumble out. leaving the haunting echo of tiny sniffles and tear-stained cheeks behind you. 

satoru just stands there. once again, the sight of your tears seems to render him completely helpless. useless.

and he's frustrated, honestly. frustrated by the argument, by your tears, by his own guilt. he’s so frustrated he wants to claw his eyes out. he scratches at his forearm, but it does no good. all he can think of is your frightened little expression.

(he scared you.)

satoru slumps down on the couch, head in his hands, running rough fingers through his soft hair. it’s unruly by the time he’s done, and his bottom lip is bruised with teeth marks, and everything in the world feels so meaningless. so out of tune.

(he made you cry.)

a sigh. drawn out, tinged with exhaustion, bitter and battered like the swing of a baseball bat. he feels a little like he could throw up. it’s foreign, this emotion, suffocating. how long has it been since he genuinely felt this kind of shame?

the crack in his heart grows deeper, while you’re gone. more severe. every moment you spend outside of his vision makes him falter more and more, makes his desperation grow. desperate to plead for your forgiveness, to convince you not to leave. to wipe the tears away from your cheeks, delicately, the way you deserve. but he can do nothing but sit there, useless, repeating the same old phrase inside his mind.

he’ll make it up to you.

and when you finally come back, having calmed down a bit, he does just that. you’re embarrassed, he can tell, a little meek. it makes him feel that discomforting emotion, again, that ache. the crack that only ever seems to deepen.

but he covers it all up with a smile. a little sheepish, more than a little forced, but he hopes you understand. hopes you can see his remorse, see a man who loves you, because he does. 

so satoru takes you into his arms, softly, hands finding the small of your back. delicate, protective. a little whisper spilling from his lips. 

”’m sorry, baby. i didn’t mean it.”

and it’s not enough. he knows it isn’t. but he does what he can — even when it just ends up clumsy, teasing, bordering on something that most would interpret as insincere. all he can do is coddle you. shower you in hugs and kisses, gifts and praises. he hands it out like candy, eager hands finding yours, everything spilling out of his chest all at once. 

there’s a desperation to it that isn’t lost on you.

but it works. he’ll make it up to you; he swears. and he dotes on you until you’re too embarrassed to be sad anymore, apologizes until his throat runs dry. until he’s sure you believe him. 

he brews you another cup of chamomile, stirred to perfection, warm enough to make up for the shiver he sent down your spine. the rain beating down on your windows serves as a constant reminder of his failure, and satoru does his best to ignore it. swallowing what’s left of his frustration, focusing on you.

anything to see you smile again. anything to wash away the red tint to your eyes, the puffy skin beneath them. anything to hear you laugh, to get you to feel safe around him again. 

(anything to make him forget the sight of those tears rolling down your cheeks.)

panic, panic, panic.

it’s all he can feel, all he can think, the only emotion his muddled mind can cling to. he’s in pure, sincere, genuine panic, and you aren’t saying a thing. can’t bring yourself to.

arms wrapped around his waist, tightly, you hide away in the crook of his neck. clutching the fabric of his shirt, burrowing your face deeper into his warmth — and you’re not just crying.

you’re downright sobbing.

satoru knew something was off the moment you fell into his embrace, suddenly, tackling him into a hug so desperate it left him reeling. a kind of desperation he isn’t used to, from you.

he knew something was wrong. 

he knew even before he heard it; your choking sobs, those shaky, heaving breaths. muffled into the cotton of his shirt, his uncertain arms around you.

they break his heart.

”hey, hey…” there’s a soothing lilt to his voice, awfully delicate. sweet like molten honey, almost enough to hide the panic. ”what’s wrong?”

satoru holds you to his chest, safe and secure, cradling you protectively. as if shielding you from the world — from whatever or whoever got you like this. as if you’d crumble into dust, otherwise.

he tries to calm down, but his mind is spinning like a broken clock, and your silence doesn’t help. you’re trying to respond; he knows you are, but you just can’t get the words out. any attempts only make you cry harder.

a shake of your head is all he gets — and it’s not much, but satoru’s learned to make a lot out of a little. 

so he continues to hold you, hiding his worry, tucking his anxiety away somewhere you won’t be able to see. he curses, inwardly, grasping blindly for conclusions — for some divine guidance. how is he supposed to deal with this?

(how long has it been since he felt so very useless?)

gentle. that’s the approach he takes, finally, hiding his nervosity. he rocks you back and forth, just a little, like he’s lulling you to sleep; his warm hands finding the small of your back, the back of your head. cradling you so close you hear his rapid heartbeat by your ear.

soothing whispers. murmured into your hair, so soft they seem to melt once they slip from his tongue, all honey and devotion. affection so palpable you taste it in the air, from the breaths he exhales. 

”it’s fine. i’m here, i’m here… i’ve got you.”

he doesn’t know what he’s doing, not really, but it seems to work. because you calm down, after a while, just sniffling into his neck and letting him soothe you. sobs and unstable heaves, turning into whimpers and shaky breaths. clinging to him all the while; so desperate for comfort, for him.

it makes him feel so, so desperate to protect you, to wash every single one of your worries away.

it’s unbearable, this aching desire. like a great, insatiable, unnamed something deep within the caverns of his chest, clawing at his ribcage, snarling and hissing, itching to break out so it can open its maw and devour you both.

(it’s ugly. it’s grotesque. it wants to keep you safe so badly it might kill him for it.)

a coo. sad, dripping with care, a comforting tone that he hopes you’ll find soothing. he smooths his palm down the back of your head, heavy, doting. it hurts so much to see you hurt.

”my baby….” satoru exhales, a little shaky. but he smiles, and he hopes you can hear it, hopes it’ll help mend the pain in your chest. ”what’s got you this upset, hm? you're worrying me, here…”

a broken sniffle. the guilt eats at you, gnaws at your bones, and all you can do is hide away in the crook of his neck. apologizing, your voice no more than a tremor of a breath.

”’m sorry…”

and satoru thinks his heart shatters. he can practically hear the crash, feel the broken, useless little pieces dig into his skin.

his arms travel down to your hips, steady, and he lifts you up. just for a second, just so he can plop down on the floor with you in tow — keeping you snuggled into his neck. seated on his lap with your legs around his waist, like you’re his baby koala.

”shh, it's okay,” he soothes, a grounding rumble of his chest right by your ear. he’s got you enveloped, wrapped up in his buzzing warmth, and all you can feel is him. ”you’re okay. no matter what it is, i'll take care of it, alright? you can rely on me.”

a moment passes. 

satoru clears his throat. nervous, suddenly. ”you know that, right?”

all you can give him is a shaky nod, but it’s enough. he sighs, in palpable relief, still rubbing circles into your back. ”okay,” he sneaks a hand underneath your shirt, tracing little shapes into your bare skin. ”good.”

he isn’t sure how long you spend there, on the floor, entirely focused on comforting you. washing away all your sadness, with every gentle caress, every soothing murmur of there, there… every little stutter of his heartbeat next to yours.

and when you’ve finally calmed down, melting under his touch and into his skin, arms going lax around his neck — satoru takes a breath. collecting himself, so you don’t have to. acting like his heart isn’t still a mess of crushed glass.

”you okay now?” he coos, drawing absentminded hearts into the skin of your back. his voice is teasing, but warm, spilling from his tongue and into your ear. deep and smooth. ”almost gave me a heart attack, baby.”

he feels the way your grip around him tightens, just a smidge, and he hears the weak little breath you draw in. your voice is still shaky, and it makes him want to rearrange the world, stitch those broken vowels back together. 

(he doesn’t like how irrational it is, this insatiable something. how it makes him want to bend the rules of the universe, just to see you smile. a dangerous temptation.)

”i’m sorry,” you croak, clinging to him like a shipwreck to a shore. ”it’s not — not a big deal, ’m just…” 

satoru pulls back. just a little bit, making sure your arms and legs stay in their rightful place, curled around his neck and waist. making sure the two of you stay connected.

then he pinches your cheek.

”don’t apologize,” he quips, a playful frown on his face. soft, a vague furrow of his brows. like he’s scolding you. 

it makes you wince, your eyes downcast. you look so meek. a little like a kicked puppy, glassy eyes glancing up at him in search of comfort.

satoru clicks his tongue. ”and don’t look at me like that, either.” 

he boops your nose, playful, doting, and you exhale weakly. it’s small, more breath than a real laugh, but you’re almost smiling, and —

it’s a start. it’s something.

satoru coos, voice dripping with warmth, sickeningly sweet. it seeps from his fingertips when he cradles your cheek in his palm, rubbing circles into the puffy skin beneath your eyes. there’s a mirth in his own, crinkled at the edges, tucked into that blue shade, something glazed over with pure adoration.

”there’s that smile.” 

he leans forward, closer, to press a kiss against the bridge of your nose, eyelashes fluttering. tickling your skin. you fall further into his embrace and he makes no move to resist, wouldn’t do it even if he physically could. even if he had the strength to let you go.

then he broaches the subject. hesitant. tactful, careful, delicate — he tries to remember how it works. how to handle something fragile. he thinks of those boxes you carried last week, little porcelain cups. heavy in his arms. he thinks of the way you jab his side with your elbow; gentle, always gentle, even though there’s never any need.

he thinks of you, and it all comes easy. that’s how it always goes.

”wanna talk about it?” he asks, softly. fingers treading through your hair, scratching softly at your scalp. it makes you melt, a little. clearing your throat.

”it’s nothing, really,” you mumble, tiny, seeking respite in the warmth that seeps from his body. speaking with a raspy voice, a hoarse throat, all tired out after crying. ”nothing big, anyway…” 

a moment passes, before you continue. ”i guess it's just been a rough week,” you admit, a sigh slipping from your lips, tinged with pure exhaustion. ”just little things piling up. ’m okay now.” 

a hum. satoru clears his throat.

”anything i can do?”

(please let me help.)

but you only shake your head. ”you’ve already done enough,” you assure him, leaning into his touch. ”think i just needed to get it all out, y’know?”

a beat. an itch. satoru holds you tight, a little tighter than he should. gentle, he reminds himself. but he needs you close enough to feel the flutter of your heartbeat, close enough to delude himself that you’ve merged together. closer isn’t close enough.

he gnaws at his bottom lip, teeth sinking into the flesh. pulling words out from the back of his throat, uncertain. ”i’m always here,” he settles on. ”if there’s anything you need, come straight to me. okay?”

a frown plays at your lips. you’re silent, for a while, until he hears you mumble beneath your breath.

”i don’t want to bother you so much, though…”

”— it’s not a bother.”

the words spill into the air, a little more firm than he meant to sound. but he means them.

”i’m serious. if you ever need help, with anything, come find me. i’m yours,” satoru inhales, deep, his chest moving in tune with the breath. you’re carried along with it, as if being lulled to sleep, following the steady pattern of his lungs. 

then he exhales. in, and out, and with it comes a promise. ”if anyone makes you cry, i’ll get rid of them.”

he says it casually, so casually that you assume it’s a joke, a bout of breathless giggles pushing past your lips. the sound has his own curling up, and he doesn’t have the heart to correct you. has enough tact to know that this might not be the best moment to let you know that he’s honestly a little terrified of how far he’d be willing to go to keep you safe and happy. 

but you’re smiling, finally, laughing. and that matters more than anything. when he closes his eyes, he thinks he can even feel the telltale signs that his heart is picking itself back up, gluing jagged shards into a shape that resembles you.

"that's scary!” you gasp, amusement bubbling up inside your throat. ”you’d go to jail for me?”

satoru huffs. ”bold of you to assume i’d get caught,” he tuts, a smug smile on his face. it makes you giggle, again, and he feels like a god.

”okay, okay,”  you nose at his neck, breathing him in, strawberry lotion and laundry detergent filling your senses. ”please don’t kill anyone on my behalf, though.”

”no promises.”

”satoru…”

slowly, steadily, his heart begins to stitch itself together. it helps that you’re there, he thinks. helps that you’re pressed up against him, that you’re holding him, like he’s the safest thing in the world. like you trust him.

(the word tastes like molten honey and luscious berries, sickly-sweet on his tongue. he gulps it down hungrily.)

it’s healing. the weight of your arms around him, the breaths that brush against his neck. he holds you to keep you together, intact, to keep himself together. a shipwreck and a shore — he just isn’t sure which one of you is which. but your jagged edges fit just right with his own.

”i don’t like seeing you cry.”

you blink. gazing up at him, with a contemplative look in your eyes. it melts into something a little too close to guilt for his liking. shame.

”— but i still want you to let me see you like that.” satoru smiles, with a tilt of his head. snowy tufts of hair falling across his face. ”is that weird?”

a moment passes. then you hum.

”no,” you exhale, a little breathless. smiling, somewhat weak, but still enough to have his heart skipping a beat. ”i love that about you, satoru.”

”huh?” he gapes at you — blinking dumbly. ”love what? that i want to see you sob into my chest?”

”that you try,” you stifle a yawn, sleepily nuzzling into him, all tuckered out from crying. ”even when it makes you a little uncomfortable.”

satoru stills. 

silence fills the space between you. there’s nothing more to say. his tongue isn’t really cooperating with him, anyhow — all tied up. so he leaves a kiss on the top of your head, and doesn’t say a word about the tremor running through his chest. 

he hates seeing you cry. hates how powerless it makes him feel, how useless. hates the fact that he can’t always protect you from the world, from himself.

but you let him see you like that.

he thinks of your tears, crystalline and glassy, like translucent marbles on a summer shore — and sees the trust instead of the sorrow. he thinks of your tearstained face, meek and feeble, and knows it’ll always be enough to break his heart to pieces. 

he thinks of you, and tells himself that it’s worth it; just as long as he gets to bring that pretty little smile back to life. 

[syoddeye]

john price x f!reader thing. unedited. ~600 words.

john price finds a dent in the driver’s door and a note tucked under a wiper.

sorry i can’t afford to pay, please forgive me x

and he’s angry, of course. who wouldn’t be? piece of shit. then he registers the looping handwriting and the little heart in the corner. interesting. he pulls the cctv. lo and behold, there she is. the culprit. some stumbling drunk buffoon.

~~

you probably shouldn’t have nabbed an e-scooter when you were three sheets to the wind, but you did, and fuck, you’re paying for it. you genuinely feel bad about the dent you left in the parked car last night, but you think a broken wrist and three stitches in your lip is more than enough punishment, thanks. you groan, remembering how you tossed the scooter into a bush and hiked a few streets away before calling 999. having to clock in for an opening shift added insult to injury.

~~

he imagines it’s rough going, working an espresso machine with a busted wrist. he supposes the manager didn’t want her as the cashier given the lip. pity, the swelling and stitches aside, she’s quite cute. but serves her right.

he wonders how she’ll react when he picks up his coffee and procures the printed still of her face, clear as day, fleeing from the scene of the crime.

he should feel bad, considering her injuries and what a barista job pays, but. it’s the principle of the thing.

“rough night?” he asks, hovering at the end of the bar.

“huh? oh, yeah. could say that,” she smiles tiredly. it’s a little strained, but still warm. “pity partied too hard.”

john’s smirk flattens. “pity party?”

“yeah,” she shrugs. “series of unfortunate events.”

like running into my car?

“what, bad date?” he jokes carefully, hiding behind a friendly grin.

“ha, guess so. it was supposed to be an anniversary dinner.” she explains dryly, looking all the more defeated as she tamps the grounds.

“supposed to be?”

she glances up, locking in the portafilter with a crank of her good arm. she finally looks a little suspicious of him. smart. “yeah.”

“i don’t mean to pry. you just seem like you could use a vent.” solid recovery.

it works. she considers a moment, shrugs again, and nods as she pulls the shot. “guess so,” she licks her lip and looks back, evidently deeming him harmless. not smart.

“found out he was cheating, called him on it, and he stormed out. after we ordered.”

that’s. that’s not what he expected. but it stirs something oddly protective. john’s a bit old-fashioned, he’s the first to admit it, so to hear about a man carrying himself so poorly? a man running around on a pretty thing like her?

it doesn’t sit well with him. car be damned.

“so how’d you…” he prompts, nodding at the cast.

“oh, yeah, we ordered some fancy wine. i drank most of the bottle alone, sobbing,” she cracks a self-deprecating smile and it dislodges something in his chest. “but the server didn’t charge me for dessert. i, uh, fell on my way home.”

crashed. you crashed into my car.

“sounds terrible.”

“it was. the whole night was. anyway.” she pauses to slide a pen from her apron to write on the cup. “americano to go?” she asks, pushing the drink over the counter, eyes floating to the next order.

john spots the same little heart, the looping letters. he looks back at her, plugging along despite the clear heartache and injuries. he sighs, crumpling the print out in his pocket.

“think i’ll have it to stay, actually,” he mumbles, knowing she doesn’t hear him as she makes the next drink.

he camps out at a table where he can watch her. there’s a dent in his car, but he’s decided there’s a barista-sized hole in his life.

[temiizpalace]

☆┊YOU DREAM OF ME??

SUMMARY: entering the dream world was such a strange feat.. especially seeing yourself in somebody else’s dream.

CHARACTERS: jade leech-centric

GENRE: fluff, crackfic

WARNINGS: you act cringe because jade leech is a cringy guy with wattpad fantasies + BOOK 7 SPOILERS + canon divergence (some dialogue is not exact cause i lowkey forgot, some moments didn’t actually happen, and i shortened it a lil so i don’t have to write too much)

NOTES: while writing this, it turns out someone else had a similar idea so i was hesitant to upload the writing. however, I’ve decided to anyways. that being said, crediting said individual is still in order since they had the idea first.

please check out @.paralleljoys post here (IF ANY ISSUES PLEASE SEND ME AN ASK, TY!)

reader is g/n, reader is yuu

🐬∘˙

you didn’t expect this. nobody expected this, actually.

jade leech, cunning, observant, quiet, and mysterious. he was one to keep his cards close to his chest and play it safely to ensure the best outcomes. and yet, here we are, in said eels dreams. a look inside of his thoughts, how he truly saw people, how he—

“jade you’re so cool! i love love love love loveeee the way your mind works sooooo much!” a voice, sounding similarly to yours, chimed. “fufu, you flatter me, my pearl..”

your jaw dropped, grims jaw dropped, you can hear idia falling out of his seat from behind the screen, jamil’s eyes had never been opened wider, floyd cringed, silver looked away, ortho could barely compute, and sebek had the most genuine disgust written on his face.

was that you? you thought azul and floyd looked stupid, BUT THAT WAS YOU? jamil slapped a hand over grims mouth, preventing the direbeast from cackling his lungs out at the sight of your pathetic image. “MYAHAHA, HENCHMAN YOU LOOK SO STUPI—“ “keep quiet.” jamil mutters, slightly smirking. you could tell he was also containing his laughter, making your face change in hue.

“eww, no way. i knew jade was all lovey dovey with the prefect but i dont wanna watch it. what a sap.” floyd groans, looking at dream you, real you, then at jade. “i dont wanna watch this either! if you guys are embarrassed how do you think i feel?!” you murmur, hiding your face in shame.

“my pearl, open wide.” jade grins, holding a piece of shrimp in his hands. “oh my, jade you sweetheart!” you giggle, opening your mouth so jade can feed you. idia snickers, holding back a laugh. you can practically see his smug expression in your mind. “he has the fantasies of a trashy middle school fanfiction, what comedy gold.”

silver clears his throat, trying to regain the attention of the group in order to free jade from his dream. while everyone with a logical mind held an equally logical discussion, you, floyd, and grim were too focused on the scene before you. “jade, you and shrimpy should just get married.” dream floyd grins, pushing you two together.

“agreed. you both are a match made in heaven!” dream azul says in between sobs, wiping his tears away with one of his tentacles. “why, what a splendid idea! azul, please make arrangements right away. we shall wed at once, my dear.” jade chuckles, holding you close in his arms. “j-jade!? i don’t know what to say..”

“do you not wish to marry me?” he asks, his thumb tracing your chin. his voice was low, yet soothing at the same time. “it’s not like i don’t want to..” dream you mumbles, avoiding his eyes by looking at the ground with a pout. REAL you, on the other hand, can’t bear the sight of it anymore. neither can floyd. or grim.

“let’s continue to overcome hardships and conquer many mountains together.” jade laughs, pulling you all in by the shoulders. as the dream variants of jades loved ones cheer, floyd swims in and swoops down, attacking his brother and his dumbed down dream him.

“I CANNOT STAND IT ANYMORE!” floyd grunts, scowling at his dear brother, who held an expression of shock. “f-floyd? there’s two of you..?!” he stutters, looking at his dream twin and his actual twin. “they’re mirror images of each other! how can you tell them apart!” azul exclaims, wiping his eyes to get a better look.

“who is this? can i hug you and eat you? hehe.”

“i originally thought you weren’t interested in other people, but you have a limited memory. “i dont eat dance and eat shrimps stuck in between rocks.” floyd scoffs, staring at his dumbfounded doppelgänger. “floyd.. doesn’t eat shrimps.. or dance..?” jade ponders, feeling his mind begin to waver.

“jade! im scared!” dream you screams, curling up in the boys arms. your eyebrow twitches, tired of the humiliation you witnessed thanks to jades horrible imagination. following your impulse, you run out with floyd, despite the shouts of your name.

“PREFECT! GET BACK HERE! WHAT IN THE WORLD ARE YOU TRYING TO ACHIEVE?!” sebek shouts, but his voice falls on deaf ears. he made a point though, what were you doing? it’d be much safer to just stay back and watch this play out, so why the hell are you trying to get involved?! “p-pearl?!” jade gasps, eyes wide in disbelief.

“th-there’s also two of you.? what in the seven is going on here?” he swam back slowly, unraveling the scene before him. two brothers, two lovers (well not officially..), and a whole school of students that seem familiar, but unsure as to where.. you could tell jade was beginning to wake up! it’s only a matter of time..

“jade, don’t be fooled. floyd shouldn’t be that ugly bastard, he should be more innocent and cute. and look at [MC], they love you so much they don’t know what to do with themselves! don’t be tricked by that fraud.” azul sneers, pointing at you and floyd, much to your dismay. just taking a glance at floyd was enough to be able to tell he was this close to breaking every bone in dream azul’s body and frankly you don’t blame him.

“i see.. floyd has been very charming to his relatives and my pearl wouldn’t leave my side so quickly,” jade hesitates, glancing at his two brothers. “i should go. they all really need me.” he smiled politely, swimming towards what once looked like his loved ones, now forming into large piles of dark goo. as jade was nearly consumed by the darkness, floyd swims past quickly. you stood on the eels back, landing a hit on dumb dumb floyd, crybaby azul, and cringe wattpad you.

“I DO NOT SOUND LIKE THAT.” you finally yell, catching nearly everyone’s attention. “it’s no use. we have to help out.” jamil sighs, lifting his magic pen. “let’s go!” silver shouts, rushing into the spot where you and floyd had already began your attack. as the fight rages on, the others serving as a distraction for jade, floyd had continued to land hits on the watered down versions of yourselves with ease before they finally shouted for help.

“it hurts! help us, jade!” dream floyd cries. “rescue us, jade!” azul cries. “oww! protect us, jade!” dream you screams, finally catching his attention. “how dare you! you fake. get behind me, i got this.” jade hisses, attacking floyd directly. you felt your balance falter on floyd’s back, slipping before falling near the vents. “prefect!” ortho shouts, rushing over to catch you til you fell into jamil’s arms safely. “it’s not safe, the vents are crumbling due to the fighting. retreat for now!” he directs, running towards a safer location.

“your carelessness nearly got you killed, prefect.” jamil sighs, looking down at you with a concerned yet tired expression. “sorry, i just couldn’t take it anymore!” you groan, crossing your arms angrily. “you can set me down now, jamil.” you pat his arm, breaking him from his daze. “..right.” he mutters, placing you down gently. they began to discuss different ways to wake up jade, before sebek finally settled on just electrocuting them.

“be careful, sebek.” silver reminds him, patting his shoulder before the boy ran out. “pierce the cloudy sky, lightning! living bolt!”

the tweels stop their fighting, electricity trickling all over their body leaving them temporarily paralyzed and passed out. after a few moments, their eyes fluttered open, being met with millions of other stares. “jade!” azul shouts, pushing floyd at the way with a grunt. “thank goodness you’re alive! i could’ve lost my cute subordinate!” he sniffles, causing jades eyebrow to raise. “..cute subordinate?”

“i’ll cry if jade is gone! don’t go anywhere!” dream floyd sighs with a dopey expression. “jade you idiot! you could’ve gotten seriously hurt and id never forgive you!” dream you sobs, rushing over to hold his hand hastily. “hm. that’s strange. the floyd and azul i know would never say something like that.” jade scoffs, looking at the two with disgust.

“huh?” they gasp, staring at him as if he said something crazy. “was sebek’s lightning so powerful, jade is finally starting to awaken?” silver mumbles, raising a finger to his chin. “awaken.. why am i here in the first place..?” jade groans, recollecting his thoughts slowly. “so.. i am a student at night raven college.. on land? agh.”

“my head feels like it’s going to split!” he winces in pain, holding his head as he shouts. all his memories finally began to come back to him, all the moments he had during the year turning the gears in his mind til he was finally back to his senses. “how could i possibly have forgotten something so important?” he huffs, looking back at the doppelgängers behind him.

“floyd would never act so obedient, he’s much more domineering. azul would give orders to others without putting himself in danger as much as possible.” he pauses for a moment, staring at your fake before shaking his head. “[MC] would have never acted so defenseless. what an embarrassing feat. i was acting quite strange.” jade sighs, turning his back towards the trio.

they had all began to complain to jade, asking why he would believe such fake things. dream you broke into tears, curling in floyds arms with a sob. jade would be lying if he said he wasn’t a little jealous, but it’s not the real you so he’ll hold back. a little. they all clung onto jade, begging him to reconsider his decision before he finally spared them a word.

“can you please not touch me? creepy.” with a quick slash, the floyd and azul clones were reduced to goo. jade looked at the fake you, slightly hesitating at your trembling figure. alas, they were spared no expense and fell back into the darkness, crying his name and dragging out each syllable.

“no mercy..” idia stuttered, chewing on his nail. “he was protecting them with his life, only to end them once he realized they were fake.” jamil states, scratching his chin while replaying the scene back in his head. “scary..” idia murmurs. “finally awake, jade?” floyd punches his brothers arm, earning a chuckle. “yes, thank you.”

they share a laugh before hitting each other suddenly, startling each and every one of you. “floyd, you dare have hurt your own brother? i thought my whole body was going to fall apart. have you no mercy on your own blood? how terrible.” jade wiped away a tear, floyd not buying it for a single second.

“jade leech.” his banter was cut short by the sounds of your voice, your stern tone telling that this will not end well for him. “w-why, [MC]! how might i be of service.?” jade smiles, remaining his composure well. “don’t “how might i be of service” me! you have some serious explanation to do once we’re out of this stupid dream.” you scowl, staring him down with an intimidating glare.

jade, seemed unfazed. he was certainly embarrassed, but who is he to let it show? “oh dear, is it quite wrong for one to dream of their mate while asleep?” he shakes his head, catching you off guard. “mate?” everyone collectively questions. “uhm, yeah. do you guys not notice?” floyd scratches the back of his neck as if it were the most obvious thing.

what the hell is he talking about? mate? what.. when? that’s.. it’s not possible. “what are you on about, leech?” you sneer, causing him to grab your hand with a smile. “would you care for me to show you?” he grins teasingly, pulling you in til you rested on his chest. “hey! why you—“

“enough. you two are more than free to discuss this mishap after malleus is defeated. right now, we’ve got bigger problems to focus on.” jamil frowns, separating you two from each other. “..right. im not done with you yet.” you glare at the eel in front of you, much to his amusement. “i look forward to it.”

despite the topic being held for later, you couldn’t help but let jade’s words and fantasies linger in your mind for a moment longer. the statements he had said, the actions he had performed, all of it made you feel.. special.

“he dreams of me?”

A/N: i got lazy at the end whoops. anyways what if i write a jamil one?? double anyways what if jamil and jade love triangl— *gunshots*

im not used to writing long fics for characters by themselves and i think you can tell

date published: 8/22/24

© temiizpalace — do not copy, steal, or put my work into ai. thank you!

[callsigns-haze]

i love your writing so much !!!! it’s kinda similar to another story you have but i was wondering if i could request your take on the twisters scene towards the end when tyler’s leg gets stuck under the debris in the town square ?? like reader is the one running over to him completely worried & stressed because her man is hurt 🥺

Not leaving

Pairing: Tyler Owens x Reader

Summary: Y/N races to save Tyler, trapped under debris after a tornado, refusing to leave his side until he's safely rescued.

Chapter Warnings: Intense storm danger, injury, descriptions of pain, and emotional distress.

The town square was a scene of devastation, the aftermath of the tornado leaving a trail of destruction in its wake. Buildings were reduced to rubble, cars overturned, and debris scattered everywhere. The air was thick with dust, the scent of rain and earth mingling with the acrid smell of smoke from a nearby fire.

Y/N’s heart pounded as she navigated through the wreckage, her eyes scanning the chaotic scene for any sign of Tyler. The last time she’d seen him, he had been trying to help a group of people take cover in a nearby building. But when the tornado hit, everything turned to chaos, and she’d lost sight of him.

“Tyler!” Y/N’s voice cracked as she called out, desperation lacing her tone. She clambered over a fallen tree, ignoring the sting of a cut on her leg, her only thought to find him, to make sure he was okay.

Suddenly, she spotted him—pinned under a massive piece of debris in the middle of the square. His face was pale, and he was struggling to move, pain etched across his features.

“Tyler!” Y/N screamed, rushing to his side. She dropped to her knees next to him, her hands shaking as she reached out to touch his face, to reassure herself that he was still there.

“Y/N…” Tyler’s voice was strained, his breath coming in short gasps. “I��m… I’m stuck.”

Y/N’s eyes filled with tears as she took in the sight of his leg trapped under the heavy debris. She could see the pain he was in, the way his hands clenched into fists as he tried to fight it.

“I’m going to get you out of here,” she promised, her voice trembling but determined. “Just hold on, okay? I’ll get help.”

She looked around frantically, but everyone else was either injured or already helping others. There was no time to wait for someone else. She had to do this herself.

“Stay with me, Tyler,” Y/N said, her voice tight with emotion as she crouched down and tried to lift the debris off his leg. It was heavy, far too heavy for her to move on her own, but she didn’t care. She wasn’t going to let him suffer, not for one more second.

Tyler groaned in pain as she strained against the weight, tears slipping down her cheeks as she gave it everything she had. But the debris barely budged, and she could see the anguish in his eyes.

“Y/N, stop…” Tyler managed to say, his voice hoarse. “You’ll hurt yourself. I… I’ll be okay. Just go get help.”

“I’m not leaving you,” Y/N choked out, shaking her head. “I’m not leaving you here, Tyler. I can’t.”

She tried again, her muscles burning with the effort, but the debris still wouldn’t move. Frustration and fear clawed at her, and she let out a sob, her hands trembling as she gripped his.

“Please, Tyler… just hold on a little longer,” she whispered, her tears falling onto his skin. “Help is coming, I promise.”

Tyler’s hand squeezed hers weakly, his eyes softening despite the pain. “I’m not going anywhere, Y/N. I promise.”

Finally, she heard the shouts of other rescuers approaching. Y/N turned to see a group of first responders rushing toward them, their faces grim as they took in the scene.

“Please, help him!” Y/N cried out, stepping back to let them work.

The rescuers quickly assessed the situation, then moved in with tools to lift the debris. It felt like an eternity as they carefully freed Tyler’s leg, Y/N watching with bated breath, her hands clenched tightly together.

When they finally managed to lift the debris, Tyler let out a pained groan, but Y/N was there in an instant, holding his hand and whispering reassurances. They quickly stabilized his leg and prepared to move him to safety.

“You did it, Y/N,” Tyler murmured as they lifted him onto a stretcher. His voice was weak, but there was a faint smile on his lips. “You saved me.”

Y/N leaned down, pressing a kiss to his forehead, her tears of relief mingling with the dirt and sweat on his skin. “I’m just glad you’re okay,” she whispered, her voice thick with emotion. “I couldn’t lose you, Tyler. Not now, not ever.”

As they loaded him into the ambulance, Y/N climbed in beside him, never letting go of his hand. The storm had passed, but the fear of losing him still lingered, a shadow over the relief she felt at having him alive and safe.

“Just rest now,” she whispered, her thumb brushing over his knuckles gently. “I’m right here, and I’m not going anywhere.”

Tyler’s eyes fluttered closed, exhaustion overtaking him, but his grip on her hand remained firm. And as they sped away from the wreckage of the town square, Y/N knew that no matter what storms they faced, they would face them together.

Requests for Tyler are open be free to send in as much as you wish!

tagging some:

@senawashere

@saviorcomplexrry

@cevansbaby-dove

@saynotononsense

@missdottie

@willowisp7

@taorislover94

@eloquenceinpurple

@86laura11

@rosiahills22

@jessicab1991

@kmc1989

@shanimallina87

@eternalsams

@teen-antisocial

@katiemcrae

[briefinquiries]

Tyler Owens x Reader: Hell or High Water

Request: Anonymous said, “i love your writing so much !!!! i was wondering if i could request your take on the twisters scene towards the end when tyler’s leg gets stuck under the debris in the town square ?? like reader is the one running over to him completely worried & stressed because her man is hurt "

Word count: 4.7k

Warnings: tornado, blood, injury mention

A/N: I'm so sorry I've been posting so infrequently, but here's a little tyler angst / hurt / comfort to brighten your sunday (did not proof read so pls don't hold me responsible for the inevitable mistakes). Anyway, comments / replies are so appreciated, enjoy!!

The storm rolls in fast. One minute, you and Tyler are running through the streets of El Reno, trying to help by corralling people to safety, and the next, you’re watching as the storm, which has nearly tripled in size, barrels towards you and everyone you’ve ever cared about. 

Tyler’s screaming your name– he wants you to move. But it’s like what they say about car crashes– no matter how frightening, you can’t seem to look away from the monstrosity of a storm. The dark clouds are swirling fiercely, destroying everything in their wake. The rain picks up– fat drops fall, soaking your clothes. The tornado is spinning faster and faster, moving closer and closer. 

It’s mesmerizing– in a terrifying, deadly sort of way. 

The winds are whipping wildly, blowing debris all over the place. Before you can react, a large chunk of vinyl siding flies straight towards you. The corner of it nicks your temple, you feel the skin slice open with a sharp tear, followed by the sensation of warm liquid trickling down your face. 

“Shit!” you gasp, tucking your face into your elbow moments too late.

Another one whips by before you start to back pedal. 

You spin around just in time to see an entire fucking car drop from the sky in the space between you and Tyler. It lands on its back bumper before starting to fall backwards.  

“Tyler!” you scream, knowing he probably can’t hear above the roaring winds. 

With one more gust, the car begins to fall, sending up a wild cloud of dust in its wake. 

As soon as you’re done shielding your eyes from it, you run towards the vehicle– now resting upside down on its crushed roof. 

“Tyler!” you cry. 

This time, you hear a faint groan in response. You follow the sound until you see Tyler laying flat on his back– one leg crushed underneath the hood of the car and a pile of broken chunks of pavement. 

He’s attempting (and failing) to push it off from himself. 

“Tyler,” you say again– his name seemingly the only word your lips are able to form. This time, he hears you above the chaos of everything else. His eyes meet yours– except, instead of their usual calm, they’re filled with terror.  

“You gotta get out of here–” he says. “Go–”

But you’re already running towards him. You know you can’t lift a fucking car– but some delusional part of you hopes that adrenaline might give you momentary super strength or fucking something to help you lift this thing. You try to grip the front bumper, but it’s wet from the rain. Your hands slip and slide no matter how hard you focus. 

“Just hang on,” you plead. 

The car’s tilted right over his leg. You try again– lifting as hard as you can. But even with a good grip, you know it’s too heavy.

The car doesn’t budge. 

“You need to go–” he says. 

But you ignore him– all you can focus on is moving the damn car… even slightly would do– just enough so that he could slide his leg out. 

“Baby,” Tyler’s using his gentle voice– the one he uses when he wants you to butter you up so you do as he says. But you can’t– 

“Y/N, you have to leave–”  

“Shut up!” you scream, eyes blurring as tears and rain both start to cloud your vision. 

“Please,” Tyler says. His hand grips your wrist and you finally look at him desperately. “Please, you have to get inside.”

“I’m not leaving you,” you sob, the thought too unimaginable to even consider. “I’m not going anywhere without you!” 

Using every single ounce of strength left in your body, you lift again. And to your absolute shock, the car starts to lift– except… it isn’t you moving the damn thing. It’s the winds picking up. 

But it doesn’t matter what makes it move, as soon as Tyler feels the weight start to lift from his leg he slides out from under the car and scoots backwards against the pavement. 

Once he’d free, you dare to glance up at the sky– the storm is no longer coming. 

It’s here.

“C’mon,” you say, reaching for Tyler to help him to his feet. “Are you okay?”

Tyler nods– and willingly takes your hand as he gets to his feet. You’re surprised, but relieved, that he’s moving okay as the two of you hurry across the street towards the school that people had started taking cover in. 

“Where–” you pant as soon as you’re through the front doors. But neither you or Tyler had ever been to this school– so how were you supposed to know where to go? 

“Basement,” Tyler pants, nodding towards the nearest staircase. 

With your hand still clutching his, you let him guide you towards the double doors. As soon as you push it open, you see an array of other people huddled in the hall. 

“C’mon,” Tyler motions towards the stairs. “Go down– into the basement.”

You and him lead the way– moving as fast as you can into the first classroom on the basement level. It’s some sort of recreational room with open spaces and only a few desks scattered around the room. 

“Get down,” Tyler says. “Against the wall.” He moves his hand to your waist and helps lower you to the ground where you quickly lay flat on the ground. 

“Cover your head,” he instructs.  

“Tyler–” you call for him, but after only a moment, you feel the warmth of his body beside you, and then an arm cradling your head. He’s shielding your body with his own– 

And you don’t even have time to argue with it, because the building starts to shake. 

“Hang on,” he says in your ear. “I got you, we’re okay.”

The winds rip through the school, causing the building to tremble fiercely. Pieces of the ceiling start to fall around you– chunks of debris crashing to the floor. 

You’re pretty sure you scream at one point, but you can’t hear it above the roars of the wind. All you can do is stay low, just like Tyler told you to do, and focus on the way his weight feels on top of you. 

It’s enough to get you through it. Because within a few minutes, the winds die down and you can finally hear your breath as you pant for air. 

But even above your own gasp, you hear someone’s muffled voice murmuring something. You dare to open your eyes just as Tyler’s weight lifts off from you. The murmuring continues– this time, it’s accompanied by a gentle hand clutching your elbow. 

It’s Tyler, you remind yourself. Tyler’s here. Tyler’s safe. You both are. 

You let him help you to your feet. And when you finally get your bearings enough to look around, everyone else seems unharmed. People have cuts and bruises– but nothing that looks imminently life threatening. 

Suddenly, a hand cups your face, gently turning your head in the direction of Tyler. Concerned, watery eyes meet yours. Tyler’s studying you– making sure you’re not broken beyond repair. Finally, his voice comes into focus. 

“Y’alright?” he asks gently.

“I’m okay,” you manage to croak. “I’m okay–”

You wince as his thumb trails along the cut on your temple. “You’re hurt… We gotta get this looked at–”

Absent-mindedly, you reach your hand to your temple and touch where you’d been nicked. But maybe sliced was a better term– Tyler’s right, it’s bleeding steadily. When you pull your fingers away, they’re coated in blood.  

Suddenly dizzy, you move your arm and grip his shoulder, squeezing gently as if to check if he was really in front of you. 

“You’re okay. We’re okay. C’mon.”

“What about the others?” you pant. 

Tyler nods, tugging you towards the exit. “I didn’t see where they ended up, we’ll find them.”

You’re wobbly and unsure as you begin to walk towards the door, but Tyler’s hand gripping your elbow offers extra reassurance. 

Tyler has to put his weight against the door before it’ll open. There’s a pile of debris in front of it that he pushes to the side to make way for people to exit. Slowly, the pair of you make your way through the hallway and up the stairs to the first floor. 

You gasp when you see the damage– large chunks of the roof have been ripped off, displaying a gray, cloudy sky above. There’s random objects and piles of scrap lying in the halls. You and Tyler have to step over obstacles just to get to the exit door. This one opens with much more ease– making you sigh a breath of relief when you’re finally out in the open. 

Already there’s ambulances and cops arriving on the scene. 

Tyler nudges you towards one of the ambulance trucks. “Let’s get your head checked,” he insists. 

You’re foggy but still try to argue. 

“What about Lily and Dani? And Boone and Dex–”

“I know,” he says gently. “We’ll find ‘em, but you can’t even see with all that blood running in your eyes, so how about we get ya stitched up first, yeah?”

You want to argue– but in the end, you’re too exhausted. 

Tyler holds your hand the entire time you get checked out. The EMT shines a light in your eye– then makes you follow his finger back and forth. Meanwhile, something vicious pulses in the back of your skull. 

You try to be tough, but the second you see the needle the EMT pulls out, you start to get shaky. 

“You’re okay,” Tyler assures you, thumb grazing across the surface of your knuckles. “You’re okay, it’ll be quick.”

The EMT applies a local anesthetic, and luckily, you don’t really feel much after the first initial poke. But as soon as he’s done, he starts mumbling something about a concussion. 

Tyler nods before accepting the bag of ice offered. 

“Tyler! Y/N!” you hear a familiar voice holler. 

You exhale a breath of relief at the sight of Boone running through the rubble towards you. 

“Boone–” Tyler sighs, sounding equally relieved. He wraps an arm around his friend and claps his back gently. “You alright?” 

He nods. “I’m alright. Lily, Dani, and Dex too. We and about thirty others took cover in this old Irish lady’s store– she had a storm shelter out back believe it or not.” 

“You guys alright?” Boone’s eyes wander to you– in particular, the bandage on your forehead. 

“We’re okay,” Tyler says quickly. “Concussed– but she’s okay.” 

“Thank God for that. Y’all done here? RV’s beat to shit, but Lily found the truck. The windshield’s pretty shattered but I think she’ll drive.”

Tyler presses the ice the EMT had given him against your temple and nods. “Let’s get you home.”

…

“T?” 

“Hmm?” Tyler hums, he doesn’t take his eyes off you, although he’s painfully aware of his best friend watching him with a scrunched face through the rearview mirror. 

Normally Tyler always drove. But since you’d barely made it to the car without passing out beside him, he opted for the backseat. 

You’re currently curled into his side, breathing steadily with your eyes snapped shut.  

“Tyler–” 

“What, Boone?” 

“Was it your bad knee?”

“What?” he asks. 

“Don’t what me, T—” Boone frowns. “I was there the first time ya injured that knee. Is that the same one?”

Tyler shrugs. “Might be.”

Boone sighs. “C’mon T, why didn’t ya get it checked with the medics?” 

“Because it ain’t that important,” Tyler shoots back quietly, trying not to wake you up. “I gotta get her home first, she’s concussed and scared. And my stupid knee can wait.”

“T–”

Tyler clenches his jaw as he tries to straighten his knee. He can already feel it swelling underneath the fabric of his jeans. “I’ll get it checked tomorrow, Boone. Okay?” 

Boone shakes his head. “Fine. But for the record, you’re an idiot.” 

Tyler’s about to reply, but then he feels you shift in his arms. As he glances down in concern, he watches you sigh and nuzzle your head against his shoulder. 

When Boone pulls the truck in front of your place, you still haven’t budged. And truthfully, after the day you’d had, Tyler doesn’t want to wake you. So, he carefully scoops you up in his arms and slides out of the truck. As soon as he puts the pressure on his knee of your combined weight, he winces. 

“Jesus, T–” Boone says from the rolled down window. “You’re gonna make it worse.”

“I’m fine, Boone– just go back and get Dex, Dani, and Lily. Get ‘em home safe.”

Without looking back, he carefully carries you up the driveway and through the front door.  

His knee is screaming the entire way, but when he gently kicks the bedroom door open and deposits you in the bed, he breathes a sigh of relief. Tyler pulls off your muddy boots before pulling the blanket from the foot of the bed over you, then, he quietly slips out of the door– heading for the bathroom. 

Tyler grunts as he lowers himself to the edge of the tub, his right leg awkwardly sticking out as he attempts to straighten it. He hasn’t bothered to change– his jeans are still coated in dirt and blood. 

Tyler shifts to look at his knee and debates whether he should’ve listened to Boone and gone to get it checked out. He secretly had been hoping his knee would heal itself, but now, sitting in the bathroom, Tyler can feel that something was wrong. 

Sighing, Tyler slowly lifts himself from the tub to shed his jeans. He grimaces when he pulls the fabric over his swollen knee– but he cringes even harder when he sees how bruised the skin is. Tyler pokes around the bone a few times– trying to determine where the most damage is. Ultimately, he realizes it’s on the outer part– probably a torn ligament or two, if he has to guess. 

He’s only been in the bathroom for a few minutes when he hears the floorboards creak in the hall. Tyler’s attention shifts as there’s a soft knock on the door. 

“Tyler?” your voice is small. “Tyler, are you in there?”

He immediately grabs the pair of sweatpants he grabbed from the bedroom and stands up to tug them on. You’ve been through enough– Tyler doesn’t need you seeing his injury on top of everything else. 

Once he’s covered he pulls open the door– all pain in his knee forgotten about when he sees you standing in the hall, hair messy and shirt wrinkled underneath your crossed arms. 

“Hey baby, what’s wrong?” he asks. 

You take a deep breath, eyes watery as you gaze at him in what looks like disbelief. 

“I–” you begin. “I woke up and you were gone.”

Tyler can’t help but step closer to you. “I’m sorry, baby. I was just changing–”

You nod quickly. “It’s okay– I just…” your voice fades, like you can’t find the words. 

So, instead of speaking, you move closer to him and sneak your hands around his waist. After laying your head flat against his chest, Tyler winds his arms around your shoulders and tugs you closer. 

“Everything okay?” he murmurs against your hair. 

He feels you nod beneath him, but doesn’t miss the way you squeeze him just a bit tighter. 

The two of you stay like that until Tyler’s knee begins to ache too much to bear. He fights the pain for as long as he can, but eventually he has to pull away. 

“It’s been a long day, why don’t we get you back in bed?” he asks. 

Your voice is muffled against his chest when you reply. “Will you stay with me?”

Tyler tucks a loose strand of hair behind your ear and smiles. “‘Course I will.”

…

Tyler doesn’t recall falling asleep. 

What he does recall is being startled awake in the dead of the night to a blood curdling scream. 

You thrash beside him harshly– flinching at something that isn’t there. 

“Tyler!” you scream out. “Tyler!”

Just as he turns to snap on the light, you kick your leg out– your foot colliding with the outside of his knee. 

Tyler hisses, unable to think for a moment as the pain shoots up his entire leg. You continue to cry out beside him desperately. After a moment, once the pain dulls just slightly, Tyler’s able to reach for you.  

The second his hand shakes your shoulder, your eyes snap open. They’re wide and wild as they search for him desperately. When you finally realize that it’s him who’s beside you, you take a shuddering breath. 

“You’re okay,” he says. Without waiting for you to respond, he reaches for you– gripping your shoulder and tugging you to his chest. You don’t hesitate before folding against him, breathing still rapid and panicky. 

You fist at the fabric of his shirt tightly, like you’re ensuring he won’t slip away. “I got you,” he whispers, pressing his lips against your hair. “You’re okay, I got you.”

“I was–” you pant. “I was back there– I couldn’t find you– you weren’t there–”

 “Sh,” Tyler hums. “I’m right here, baby. I got you.”

“You’re right here,” you mumble quietly, like you’re reassuring yourself. 

Eventually, your whimpers fade and your breathing steadies out. Tyler’s not sure how long it takes, but you fall back asleep curled against him while he runs his fingers through your hair. Tyler never falls back asleep, but you don’t move again until morning. 

…

Despite the throbbing in his knee and the pounding in his head demanding caffeine, Tyler doesn’t get up until he feels you stir beneath him. Your eyes flutter open, relief instantly washing over your features when you notice he’s still with you. 

“Morning,” you mumble sleepily. 

Tyler pretends like he hasn’t been awake for the last three hours and smiles. “Mornin’. How’re you feelin’ today? How’s the head?”

You shrug. “I’m okay, still a little shaken up I think.” 

Tyler nods understandingly. “Why don’t I go make us some coffee?”

Your lips spread into a small smile. “Okay,” you agree, untangling your limbs from his. “Thanks.”

Tyler carefully slid out of bed, trying to prevent you from seeing the obvious limp he was sporting– but the night had made his knee grow stiff. As soon as he was out the door, he hobbled down the stairs, hand gripping the railing the entire way. 

Almost as soon as Tyler makes it to the bottom of the stairs, he hears a knock at the door. He frowns at the unannounced visitor, wondering who would be stopping by before nine in the morning. 

Tyler hoists open the front door to see Boone standing on the other side. 

“Boone– hey,” Tyler says, caught off guard. “What’re you doin’ here?”

“Hey man, just checkin’ in.”

“What happened to phone calls?”

Boone frowns. “Man, I texted and called about a hundred times, I was just poppin’ in to make sure you weren’t dead.”

Tyler steps to the side to allow room for his friend to come inside. “Shit, sorry,” he says, recalling that he left his phone downstairs all night. “I just forgot to charge it. I’m hangin’ in there, you?”

Tyler closes the door behind Boone before limping back towards the kitchen. 

“Bullshit,” Boone says, eyeing Tyler’s gate. “Have you called the doc yet?” 

“I just got up–” Tyler starts as he grabs a few mugs from the cabinet. 

“Call right now– see if they can get ya in today.”

“Since when did you become such a mother hen?” Tyler grumbles, flicking on the coffee pot. “I’ll call today.”

“The earlier you call, the better chance they can get ya in. Unless you want to just go straight to the hospital–”

“Why would he need to go to the hospital?” Your voice makes Tyler’s head snap to the side. 

You’re standing in your sweats and one of his t-shirts with your arms crossed. You look between him and Boone carefully, like you’re studying the situation.  

“I don’t–” Tyler starts. 

“You didn’t tell her?” Boone interrupts. 

Tyler watches as a look of concern takes over your face. “Tell me what?”

“Boone,” Tyler says sharply in warning. “Don’t.”

“What is it?” you demand, looking at him for an explanation. 

“Nothing,” Tyler clears his throat. “I’m fine–”

“Tyler fucked up his knee yesterday,” Boone blurts out, eyes never leaving Tyler. 

Tyler sighs, eyes slowly falling shut now that his secret was out. “Jesus, Boone.”

“Sorry, T. But maybe she’ll convince you to get it checked,” he says. 

“What?” you say, looking down at Tyler’s covered knee. When no one responds, you blurt out, “Oh my God, the car– your leg was crushed–” 

Tyler rubs the back of his neck, purposely avoiding your gaze “Yeah.”

“Why didn’t you go to the medic…” your voice trails off in realization. “Because you were too busy helping me,” you answer your own question. “Why didn’t you say anything?”

“Because I’m sure it’s fine.”

“Let me see it.”

Tyler winces at your harsh tone. “What?”

“Your knee, let me see it.”

Tyler clears his throat. “Baby, it’s fine–”

“If it’s fine you’ll let me see it,” you say stubbornly. 

There was an awkward moment of silence as Tyler contemplated what to do. He’d looked at his knee the night before, and can only imagine how much worse it probably looks today. 

Finally he sighs, accepting his fate as neither you nor Boone back down. He grips the hem of his sweatpants and yanks the leg up, showing his bare knee. 

You gasp before hurrying over. “Tyler, what the fuck–”

How had you not noticed? You supposed yesterday in your daze you missed his limps or awkward steps– but you still think that you should have known– a damn car fell on him for God’s sake…

“Jesus, T,” Boone hisses. 

Tyler steals a glance. The discoloration is darker than last night, and the swelling has definitely gotten worse. Tyler curses himself for not at least throwing an ice pack on it the night before. 

“Oh my God, you carried me–” you blurt out. “What the hell, Tyler?”

“Y/N,” he pleads, sighing. But when he glances at you, he’s surprised to see tears forming in your eyes. 

“So it is the bad one,” Boone mutters after he notes the scar down the center of Tyler’s knee. 

You suck in a sharp breath. 

Tyler drops his pant leg and straightens his back. “Look, I will get it checked out, okay? I promise– it’s not a big deal.”

Tyler expects backlash, but there’s no response. Boone looks like he’s nodding, maybe he’s actually believing Tyler’s promise. But you’ve gone quiet, head down and arms crossed defensively, like you’re withdrawing into a shell. 

Boone turns towards you, finally averting the attention off from Tyler. “How’re you doin’? How’s the concussion?” he asks. 

You shrug. “I’m okay. A little headache, but nothing broken. You?”

Boone nods. “About the same. I’m gonna go check on Lily, then we’ll drop the truck back off later, will you make sure he gets to the doctor’s today?”

“I’m right here,” Tyler sighs, pinching the bridge of his nose. 

“Yeah but I trust her more than you,” Boone says candidly. 

You offer him a small smile, “I’ll do my best,” you say. 

Boone offers the two of you one final nod before heading out the front door. 

“Leave it to Boone to barge in like that at nine in the mornin’,” Tyler says as he extends a steaming mug of coffee towards you. But you never uncross your arms. Instead, you just stare at him like that with a look of disapproval. 

“C’mon,” Tyler sighs, head falling. “I’ve been walking on it since yesterday and I haven’t fallen apart yet. You and Boone are both making this a bigger deal than it is.” At this point he knows he’s being a little difficult, but he just wants this over with. 

“I–” you choke out. “I– I don’t understand. Why would you stay in pain like that? Why wouldn’t you tell me you were hurt? Don’t you trust me?”

“Of course I trust you,” Tyler says. 

“So why lie?” 

“I didn’t lie–”

“You told me you were fine– I mean you… you carried me on a broken knee, for God’s sake–”

“We have no idea that it’s broken,” Tyler reminds you. 

You scoff. “It looks pretty fucking broken to me, Tyler.”

“It’s just a knee–”

“I know it’s just your knee, and knees heal– but what if it was something worse… I mean, what else are you lying to me about?”

“C’mon,” he sighs, squeezing his eyes shut. “I didn’t lie.”

“Okay, so just keeping stuff from me then,” you say, voice rising. “I mean, you were such an idiot yesterday– first you tell me to leave you behind when the car fell, then you shield my body with yours in the basement instead of keeping yourself safe– now you’re getting my injuries checked out and completely neglecting your own. And for what?” you yell. “I mean… is it an ego thing? Because you’re too tough to get checked out? Or what? Some stupid sort of hero complex? You gotta prove yourself by putting your life in danger?” 

Tyler’s jaw clenches as he grinds his teeth together. “Is that what you really think?” 

You throw your hands up exasterbatedly. “I don’t know what to think! Because you won’t fucking talk to me!” 

Tyler scoffs. “Are you really that mad about this?”

You suck in a breath before sinking your teeth into your bottom lip. “Yeah–” you choke out. “I am mad– I’m mad because I don’t want to lose you!” your voice cracks on the final word, fat tears rolling down your cheek, leaving streaks behind. Tyler’s entire demeanor instantly softens at the sight. He moves closer, but doesn’t reach out. 

“I did all that to protect you–” he spits out. “Because I can’t stand the idea of something happening to you.”

You wipe the tears away from your face, chest heaving as you listen. 

“God, if you got hurt– trying to help me lift a goddamn car off my legs… or because I led you into the wrong spot– or because I put my stupid knee about your head injury, I’d never forgive myself.” 

“And you think I could forgive myself if I ran away and left you underneath a fucking car? Or if you died shielding me from debris?” 

He sighs defeatedly before leaning against he kitchen counter, trying to take some weight off his knee. “I get what you’re saying, Y/N, but that’s just what I do– I protect the people I love… And unfortunately for you, I love you more than anything else.” 

Finally, the look of frustration melted off your face. In it’s place was a mixture of sadness and admiration. “I love you more than anything else too, which is why I need you to take care of yourself.”

Tyler nods, finally feeling like you both were finding some common ground. “I can’t promise I won’t put you first,” he says. “But I promise I’ll try to take care of the both of us.” 

You shift your weight to your right leg and pop your hip disapprovingly. 

“C’mon, what can I do to make things better?” he asks, tilting his head to the side as he gazes at you. 

“Well for starters you could let me take you to the damn hospital.”

Tyler offers you a pleading look. “How about the doctor’s office?” 

“Urgent care,” you state, like it’s your final offer. 

Tyler groans exaggeratedly but then nods. “Okay, fine. Deal. Urgent care it is. But let it be known this is only happening because I love you so much.” 

 The corner of your lip tugs into a small smile. Tyler will take it. 

[stevie-petey]

episode eight: the battle of starcourt

He fights with it, tries desperately not to let it fall, all while his resume hangs from his mouth. “Shit! Oh, Fast Times! Ever heard of it? Top three for me, Keith.” Robin laughs and Steve turns the cardboard cutout to you, wiggling his eyebrows. “Own any red bikinis?” You flick his forehead, though you laugh as well. “In your dreams.” “I can sleep right now and find out–” “I will flick you again.” “A kiss is preferred, but whatever.”

Summary: jonathan becomes a certified surgeon, hopper returns and is oddly sentimental (wonder what that could mean !), you and dustin show off your musical theater talents, the mind flayer becomes a track star, fireworks become weapons, and really a lot just happens so suddenly it gives you whiplash. dont worry though, the rest of your summer involves painful goodbyes and the scary realization that youre growing up. absolutely disgusting. but at least steve gets to kiss you whenever now, so hooray for that ! side note: you keep making promises to people, surely there wont be narrative foreshadowing as a result !

Rating: general, violence and swearing

Warnings: blood, swearing, major character death, graphic depictions of violence, fem!reader, use of y/n

Words: 21.2k (ouch)

Before you swing in: this was my magnum opus. truly. so so so much happens in this chapter, this episode is INSANE. it took me a while, the scenes were hard and complex, but im happy with the final results :) ive been waiting a long time to write this ending, to set up the strings for later in season 4 <3 i sincerely hope this chapter is all yall have wanted. if theres any glaring typos, pls ignore because its 21.2k words and im weak from rereading it. anyways, i have a sneaky lil link right here that will make sense at the end of the chapter (spoiler alert: it's a mixtape jonathan makes for bug). enjoy !

-

El’s screams tear out of her body. She writhes in pain, sobs claw out of her throat. It’s unbearable to watch, the sight of her in immeasurable pain. It breaks your heart. 

No one knows what to do. 

Mike thrashes in your arms still. He tries to escape your hold so that he can cover his body with El’s. Take away her pain somehow. But you won’t let him. You know that it hurts him to see her this way, but his panic will only drive El’s panic further.

“What is that?” Disgust litters Erica’s face as she stares at the moving creature within El’s leg. Gently you push the girl away, not wanting to crowd El too much. She needs space to breathe. 

“There’s something in her leg,” Mike sneers into your face as he fights against you again. He’s furious, he’s overwhelmed, he just wants to help. “Let go!”

Your arms tighten around the boy. He isn’t in the right state of mind. Frantic, you look to your left and start forming a plan. “Jonathan, my switchblade is in my left back pocket. Grab it.” He stares at you, unsure what to do, and you raise your voice into a yell. “Grab it.”

Jonathan jumps at the command and his hand disappears behind you. You feel him find the weapon and pull it out. He holds it in front of you, offering it, but you don’t accept it. “Go and disinfect it. There’s a gas stove where you found us. Heat up the blades so that we can–” you swallow as nausea fills you. “We–we have to cut it out of her leg.”

The moment Jonathan is gone, you turn your attention to Mike and Steve. You try to keep your voice leveled, try to contain the blinding panic that screams in your head. El needs you right now. Swallowing again, you start to speak to them. “I need you guys to talk to El. Keep her awake.”

“Right, okay.” Mike nods, and you finally release him. He hovers over El, his voice is gentle as he tries to calm her. “Hey, stay awake, okay?”

You tug Steve towards El’s legs so that he can help you move her into a better position. “Get her onto her side. Mike, put her head in your lap.”

Both boys do as they’re told. Everyone watches, and Robin tries to make light of the situation. She rambles about a girl from her soccer team who once broke her leg. How the bone had ripped clean through her skin. The story makes you shiver, and Steve sees the discomfort. “Robin, hey. You’re not helping.”

“I’m sorry.”

Jonathan returns, out of breath. “Okay. Alright, El?” He looks down at the girl. Tries to steady his breathing. “This is gonna hurt like hell, okay?”

El whimpers out that she understands, and you take hold of her hand. “Sweetheart, you need to brace yourself. I promise it will be over soon.”

“I’ll be fast, but I need you to stay real still. Here,” Jonathan hands a wooden spoon to Mike. “You’re gonna want to bite down on this, okay?”

Teeth bared, El clenches her teeth around the spoon. Her body braces for what’s about to come. Kneeling next to her, you angle your body over hers and pin her arms down with your hands. You look at Mike, ordering him to do the same. “Hold her shoulders. Don’t let her go, no matter what.”

He pales, but swallows deeply and nods. When Mike is in position, you signal to Jonathan to start cutting. “Do it.”

“Okay,” Jonathan inhales. The knife you’ve given him shakes as he holds it over El’s wound. He’s fucking terrified, but he knows it’s the only way. Exhaling, he cuts into her flesh. Blood pours from the wound and El’s screams tear from her chest. 

Everyone makes a sound of disgust and horror. Your own stomach lurches at the sight of Jonathan cutting into the leg. The image, the way El’s body convulses, the screams she releases, it’s all too much. You don’t feel yourself shaking until Steve guides your head into the nook of his shoulder, shielding you. 

“Thank you,” your breathing is shaky. You aren’t even sure if he’s heard you, but Steve nods and his hand rubs up and down your back. He’s doing whatever he can to help, being the solid surface you need to lean upon. Lending you the strength you need to hold El down and save her. 

You hear your knife glance against the ground, followed by El’s scream becoming deafening. Unable to stop yourself, you pull away from Steve to look at what’s happening. When you do, you almost gag. Jonathan’s fingers are now in El’s leg, digging underneath the flesh and muscle to find whatever the hell is in there. A horrible squelching sound fills the air. Faintly you think you can hear Will crying behind you. 

Jonathan struggles, digs deeper into the leg, but it only seems to be making everything worse. El twists and contorts beneath you, in agonizing pain. Her screams only intensify. A tear from your eye lands on her shirt, and you force yourself to hold her down despite how desperately you want to end it.

“Goddamn it!” Jonathan can’t find it. He can’t find whatever the hell is in El’s leg. It keeps moving the moment he thinks he has it. Everything is slick from blood. 

“No!” El spits out the wooden spoon, her voice raw from screaming. “Stop it!” 

You can’t stomach her pain any longer. The moment she pleads for it to stop, you move off of El and push Jonathan away from her. Nancy helps, touches his shoulder to alert him as well. The moment she has the room to, El sits herself up. “I can do it.

“Do what, El?” You ask, though you think you know anyways.

She breathes heavily. Tears flow freely down her face. She’s sitting down, one of her knees is pressed against her chest. The injured leg remains flat on the ground, her hand outstretched above it. Static, the one you always feel when El uses her powers, surrounds you. There’s a low hum, she grunts and screams, and yet her hand remains steady. You rub her back, offering her all the strength you can give her, in awe despite the poor timing of it. 

To have the strength to expel a foreign object from your body. You can’t imagine it. 

El releases one final long, harrowing scream. The lights flicker, the windows behind you rattle violently. You only just barely manage to cover Dustin and the kids from the shards of glass before they explode. At the same time, a small, writhing creature shoots from El’s leg. It stalls in the air, hovering in front of her face as she continues to scream. The creature is no bigger than the size Dart had been when Dustin first found him. The idea that it had been buried in El’s leg makes you feel ill. 

With the last of her energy, El flings the creature across the room. It lands with a sickening thud on the floor, before it starts to move. You watch in horror as it scurries away, releasing its own screech, until Hopper’s boot crashes down upon it, killing it. 

You’ve never been happier to see that cranky son of a bitch. 

Joyce stands behind him and you whimper pathetically when you see her. You miss your own mother. It’s been days since you’ve last seen her. You’re more homesick than you’ve ever been before. 

Alongside Joyce and Hopper is a man you’ve never seen before. He has glasses and a beard. As you study him, Jonathan makes a surprised sound. “Murray?”

“You know him?” 

Jonathan nods at you. “He’s the detective Nance and I visited last year.” 

“He’s insane.” Nancy says, though there’s a nostalgic smile on her face. 

Hopper steps forward, investigating the scene. Glass crunches beneath his boots. He stops in front of you and El. He looks down at you. “Always at the scene of the crime, huh?”

“Yeah,” you blow hair out of your face. “Can’t seem to ever stop myself.” Then, finally noticing his aggressively bright and floral shirt that he’s wearing, you tilt your head to the side. “Nice shirt, by the way. I like the color on you. You’ve been direly needing some color in your life.”

Dustin snorts and El manages a tired smile. Hopper rolls his eyes at you, though you can tell it’s more from fondness rather than annoyance like it usually is. You watch as his eyes drift towards Joyce, uncharacteristically shy. “Thanks, kid.”

“Anytime, old man.” 

– 

“The Mind Flayer, it built this monster in Hawkins, to stop El, to kill her and pave a way into our world.” 

You sit on the fountain’s edge. Dustin is next to you, Steve leans against you on the other side. Mike’s words surround you. 

He explains what he and the others have been dealing with while you’ve been gone. Innocent people have been getting possessed and turned into chemicalized substances. Their bodies melting together, conjoining to create a monster meant to kill El. With every detail Mike remembers, your stomach twists uncomfortably. It doesn’t sound real. It sounds like a thing from nightmares.

And somehow Billy has become the face of it. 

The last time you saw him, he had been a shell of who he used to be. He had been in pain. Obvious pain. Sweat had run down his flushed skin and his eyes had a frost in them unlike anything you had ever seen before. Instead of helping him, instead of telling anyone about this, you had abandoned Billy. 

“How big is this thing?” Hopper asks, shifting so that El can rest more comfortably against him. 

Jonathan sighs. “It’s… It’s big. Real big. Thirty feet, at least.”

“You’ve seen it?” Your eyes draw to the bruise on his forehead. The pained noise he made when you hugged him still rings in your ears. 

“We’ve had a rough night.” Nancy whispers, eyes downcast. 

“It sorta destroyed Hopper’s cabin.” Lucas looks up at the chief, a poorly feigned apologetic smile on his face. “Sorry.”

Steve interjects now. He asks questions, tries to make sure he understands. As he speaks with the group, your head falls onto his shoulder. Your head spins. Only hours ago you were dealing with Russians and national emergencies. Now, you and Steve try to wrap your heads around the idea of a giant human goo creature wreaking havoc on Hawkins.  

Which, according to Max, is still very much alive. 

But that doesn’t stop Will from trying to help. “But if we close the gate again–” 

“We cut the brain off from the body.”

“And kill it.” Lucas finishes for Max. “Theoretically.”

It sounds so simple, but you’ve been here before.

You’ve heard this conversation already; you were standing in the Byers’ dining room. Steve had been next to you, just like he is now, and Jonathan had been on your other side. The people surrounding you were the same, only now Robin and Will join. That November, the conversation had terrified you. Closing the gate. Killing the Mind Flayer and destroying its army. 

It had been the exact same conversation. And it terrifies you still, now. Only this time the fear is accompanied by an emptiness.

You’ve been here before. It hadn’t been enough. 

“How many more times are we going to kill it?” Your head remains pressed against Steve. Your eyes don’t lift from the ground. Exhaustion sags your body. “We thought we already killed the Mind Flayer. We went through hell and back to close the gate, only for it to be opened again not even a year later. By another country. I mean,” laughter crawls out of your throat. “Who’s to say that they won’t just open the gate again? They’ve already done it once–”

“Loverboy over here,” The bearded man from earlier, Murray, suddenly appears and slaps the back of Jonathan’s head. The man has a mad smile on his face, the kind that tells you he’s an insane genius. After Jonathan shoves him away, Murray stops in front of you. He looks down, a curious glint in his eyes. “He told me you were a ray of sunshine. Gotta be honest. I’m not really getting a real sunshine vibe from you.”

Steve subtly shifts your body so that he’s in front of you. His eyes are narrowed, body tense. “What’s that in your hands?”

Murray seems to now remember what he interrupted the group for. He clutches the pieces of paper in his hands, waves them in the air. “Ah. These, my perfectly coiffed haired friend, are blueprints.” 

“That’s just a poorly done drawing of squares and lines.” You squint at the papers. They’re no better than the map Mike had scribbled to navigate the tunnels last year.

“Seriously,” Murray turns back to Jonathan again. “I thought she was supposed to be the nice one.”

You open your mouth to argue, not at all liking whatever this random man is insinuating, but Hopper steps forward first. “Just start talking.”

He sighs, but agrees. Motioning everyone to follow, Murray guides the group to a nearby table so that he can lay his drawings out for everyone to see. “Okay, this is what Alexei called ‘the hub’.” Murray points to the center of the first drawing. “Now, the hub takes us to the vault room.”

“Okay, where’s the gate?” Hopper hovers over him, attentive. 

“Right here.” Murray now points to a random box, far from where you know the gate actually is. You bite your lip, unsure if you should speak up just yet. “I don’t know the scale on this, but I think it’s fairly close to the vault room. Maybe fifty feet or so.”

You snort obnoxiously loud, getting everyone’s attention. “You’re so wrong that it physically pains me.”

“I’m sorry?” Murray gives you an odd look. When Jonathan and Nancy showed up on his doorstep last year, the two of them had nothing but great things to say about you. Jonathan had waxed poetry about you while Nancy had sat at the dinner table, resentful. Now, meeting you, Murray is really struggling to understand where that all came from. 

“It’s more like five hundred feet.” Erica says. When she sees Murray’s exasperated expression, she can’t help but laugh at the old man. “What, you’re just gonna waltz in there like it’s commie Disneyland or something?” 

“And who are you?” 

“Erica Sinclair. And who are you?”

“Murray… Bauman.”

“Listen, Mr. Bunman.” You have to stifle a laugh into Steve’s shoulder. You love Erica, you really do. “I’m not trying to tell you how to do things, but I’ve been down in that shithole for twenty-four hours. And with all due respect, you do what this man tells you, you’re all gonna die.”

“I’m sorry, why is this four year old speaking to me?”

You slide off the fountain’s edge and stand. Whoever this guy is, you don’t like his snippy attitude. “She’s ten, actually, and she’s right.”

“Yeah, you bald bastard!” Lucas reprimands her, but she doubles down. “Just the facts!”

While you enjoy her quips, you gently grab Erica’s shoulders and place her behind you. There isn’t time for her to make a grown man cry. “We went through hell down there. It won’t be as easy as walking fifty feet. The place is huge.”

“They’re right.” Dustin speaks up. “You’re all gonna die, but you don’t have to. Excuse me, may I?” Even before Murray has consented, your brother is already grabbing the blueprints. He sits down and starts explaining. “See this room here? This is a storage facility. There’s a hatch in here that feeds into their underground ventilation system.”

“It’s how we accidentally got in.” You add, figuring any extra information could help.

“Wait, you accidentally broke into a secret Russian lair?” Mike tries to hide it, but you can see that he’s impressed. You know that once this is all over, he’ll grill you for details later.

“No, we thought it’d be fun to get tortured by commies on the fourth of July.” Steve points to his swollen eye. “Yes, Wheeler. It was an accident.”

“Guys!” Dustin shouts. When he has everyone’s attention again, he sighs. “Jesus. Anyways, these vents will lead you to the base of the weapon. It’s a bit of a maze down there, but between me, Y/N, and Erica, we can show you the way.” 

Hopper stares down at the three of you, unamused. “You can show us the way?”

Dustin is about to agree, but you cover his mouth with your hand. “Yes, I can show you the way. The kids can stay here, but I remember everything from when we were down there. If you want all the hero glory, then fine. Fight some Russians. But I can be your navigator.”

“No.” Hopper, Steve, Dustin, and Jonathan say at the same time. 

You roll your eyes at all of them. “Okay, I was only talking to Hopper. The rest of you,” you glare at your brother and the two teens next to him. “Aren’t a part of this conversation.”

“There isn’t a conversation to be had, kid.” Hopper scoffs at you. He doesn’t want to hear whatever you’re about to say. He won’t let you back down there again. From the state Steve is in, Hopper doesn’t even want Joyce coming with him. “You’re not going. End of discussion.”

“You don’t seriously expect me to let you walk into a death trap, right? I mean, I know we argue a lot, but you can’t be that dumb.” Hopper has started to walk away now, trying to put an end to the conversation, but you follow him anyways. “Listen to me!” He ignores you, doesn’t turn around. Instead, Hopper starts gathering bullets as he picks up a shotgun from one of the guards on the ground. Groaning, you continue to chase him. 

You don’t care how annoying you’re being. You’ll nag him until your last dying breath. If he doesn’t want you getting hurt, then he has to understand that you don’t want him getting hurt either. “Hopper, I’m serious. El…” You look at the girl, who is far behind the two of you now as she rests near the fountain. Your voice grows thick. A wave of emotions rush over you, seeing her. She’s so small. She’s still just a kid, despite the power that lies within her. “She needs you. You–you can’t get hurt.”

“And I won’t.” 

“You don’t know that,” you grab the man’s shirt, but he tries to walk anyways. You plant your feet on the ground and grit your teeth. He’s frustratingly strong. “Please, just–you’re her father. You–you can’t leave her–” You stumble over your words, try to think of how to convince him. There has to be a way, a middle ground. Isn’t he the one who taught El what compromise means? 

In your nagging midst, you overhear Dustin and the party all catch up. Talk about how they missed one another. It’s a sweet reunion, seeing them come together again after being separated for so long; your boys are together again. It feels like a lifetime ago where they were all together on Weathertop hill. Seeing them together again, it hits you. 

The walkies. Cerebro.

“What if I could still communicate with you from above?” You shout, frantic. Hopper stops walking. He still doesn’t look at you, but he indicates that you have his attention. Taking a deep breath, you don’t waste any time. “We have walkies. Dustin, all the kids. It’s how they communicate with one another. Always have. What if… what if I give you directions using them? That way, you’ll fulfill your annoying need to be a hero while I fulfill my annoying need to protect everyone.”

Your words come rushing out, messy and jumbled, but Hopper seems to understand. He’s quiet, mulls what you’ve said over and over again in his head. He inhales, closes his eyes, and then exhales agonizingly slow. When he opens his eyes to look at you, he’s resolved. “You’re really annoying, you know that?”

A relieved smile graces your face. Knowing you’ve gotten through to Hopper, you finally release his shirt. You straighten it back out, wipe some dirt off of it. It really is a good shirt, one you know was almost definitely purchased for a woman named Joyce Byers. “It adds to my charm.”

Hopper chuckles, shakes his head, before walking over to where your brother stands with the others. He fishes a walkie from his back pocket, tosses a spare one to Dustin. “Hey, heads up. Your sister came up with a shockingly genius compromise. You guys can navigate, just from someplace safe.”

Dustin sighs. “It’s not that simple.”

“The signal won’t reach.” Erica clarifies for him. 

You motion at them to explain faster. “But…”

“But,” Dustin quickly explains your idea. “We’d need something with a high enough frequency band to relay with the Russians’ radio tower. But for that to work, you need someone who has both seen their comms room and has access to a super-powered handcrafted radio–”

“Dustin,” you hit his shoulder, urging him to get to the point already. “Just tell him about Cerebro.”

“I was getting there! Look, we have one already situated at the highest point in Hawkins.” Your brother shakes his head. “If you need us to navigate, we got you. But we need a head start… and a car.”

“Hey, chief.” You stand beside Hopper now, grinning ear to ear. “Don’t you have a car?”

He stares past you, and the rage in his eyes amuses you immensely. It’s taking everything within him not to start yelling, which only causes your shit eating grin to grow. You extend your arm, hold your hand out palm-facing upwards. This is the best day of your life. “Come on, give me the car keys, Hopper.” 

Sucking his teeth, Hopper drops the car keys into your hand. “I hate you.”

Hopper stands in front of you, annoyance and irritability in his eyes as he stares at you, but you don’t care. A surge of warmth cascades through you instead. He listened. It means more to you than the man could ever know. Your arms find their way around him, surprising both you and Hopper, as you pull him into a hug. “Thank you for listening to me.”

“Yeah, well. Don’t make me regret it.” Hopper says, his voice rough. He clears his throat, allows his hand to pat your shoulder. He may not know what you’ve gone through, but he thinks he can understand the weight the history has left you. It’s the same weight that he carries every day. The guilt, the anger that follows it. He clears his throat again and pulls you off of him, keeping you at arm’s length. “Do me a favor, will you? Make sure El and the others are safe.”

You sniff, wipe away tears. You’re not sure why you’re crying. “I will, I promise. Good luck, old man.”

“Good luck, kid.” He hesitates, still holding your shoulders. His breath hitches and his eyes don’t leave yours. There’s something in them, almost a certain kindness that once reflected in your father’s eyes when you were younger. The gaze burns you at first, but you stare back at Hopper through it. After he seems to find what he’s looking for, Hopper swallows. He says what Joyce has always said about you; from his conversation with the woman back at Melvald’s. “You’re the best of them.”

More tears well in your eyes, but you wipe them away before he can tease you. Hopper releases you, shoves you in a playful manner, and you can’t help but laugh. It’s a warm moment. His words simmer on your skin. You’ve heard them before, you know what people say about you, but the words are different coming from Hopper. 

Praise doesn’t come naturally to him. Words have always plagued him; the ones he has just told you hold a weight that’s even heavier than the guilt the two of you carry within yourselves. You’ve known Jim Hopper for three years now, but as you watch him walk over to El, soft smile still on his face from his conversation with you, you finally understand him. 

–

Steve is waiting for you at the fountain, whispering quietly with Robin. The two of them stand off to the side, away from the others. He’s nervous, uncomfortable. He stands with his back away from Jonathan and Nancy, who are a few feet away talking to Murray. His arms are crossed over his chest and his fingers tap together in an anxious tick you’ve become familiar with. 

The moment he sees you approaching, all the tension in Steve’s body melts away. 

He grabs your hand the second you’re within reach. Pulling you into his chest, he kisses the top of your head. “Any updates, angel?”

You hum against him, allowing yourself a moment to bask in his warmth. It’s been a long day. It’ll be an even longer night. “You know Weathertop hill?”

“Yeah, why?”

“Good.” You place Hopper’s keys into Steve’s hand. “You’re driving us, then.”

Robin points at Jonathan, who sneaks glances at the three of you. “Define ‘us’. Because, no offense, he seems nice and all, but he keeps looking over at you like a lost puppy and it’s making me uncomfortable.”

“Be nice, he’s still my best friend.” Flicking her forehead, you silently scold Robin. “And it’s just going to be the three of us with Dustin and Erica. Jonathan and Nancy are taking the rest of the kids to Murray’s bunker. He’s just… He’s worried. Probably wants to make sure he says goodbye to me before we leave.”

Robin makes a confused face, reminding you that she’s new to all of this. That she hasn’t had to say goodbye to her loved ones every year with the fear of them not returning. You sigh. “It’s… Kinda a tradition, at this point. A final goodbye before all hell breaks loose.”

“How many times do you guys almost die on a weekly basis?”

Steve snorts. “Depends on the month. November seems to be our worst one, though.”

“Astounding…”

You leave Steve to deal with Robin’s amazement on his own, though you laugh as you walk away. Ever since the events of Will’s disappearance, you’ve done everything you can to not think about what you’ve all been through. However, seeing the bewildered amazement on Robin’s face the more you reveal to her, you can’t help but laugh. 

Jonathan sees you approaching him and Nancy and steps aside to make room for you. They’re still talking to Murray, although the man is more lecturing them than anything. He holds up a bunch of keys, explaining in great detail which one goes into specific locks. It’s dizzying trying to keep track of it all. 

Secretly, you’re grateful that you’re going with Steve and the others. Easier key instructions. 

“This one is for the second to last bottom lock–”

“Murray, can I cut in real quick?” You try to be polite about it, but truly you don’t care whether or not you have the man’s permission. 

He glares at you. “Aren’t you already?”

“Good point!” You grab Nancy’s and Jonathan’s arms and pull them away with a wicked smile on your face. When you’ve dragged them far enough away from Murray, you wrap your arms around them both. Jonathan sinks into the unexpected embrace. Nancy stiffens. You try to ignore it. “Get to that old man’s bunker safely, please?”

“Of course, bug.” Jonathan has wrapped an arm around you. He closes his eyes, his fingers span across your back. “Stay at Weathertop, get to safety. Maybe even get some rest while you can.”

“I’ll try, bee.” Your laugh is wet. This will never get any easier. 

Nancy shifts in your embrace, and for a moment you’re afraid she’ll pull away entirely, but instead she surprises you by wrapping an arm around you as well. Her chin is tucked against your neck, she still hasn’t melted into the embrace like Jonathan has, but she’s trying. Lips close to your ear, she whispers, “I’ll keep him safe.”

You suck in a breath. You hadn’t known how desperately you needed to hear Nancy’s reassurance, to hear her silent apology. Pulling away from them, you look at Jonathan and Nancy. “I love you. I love you both.”

Jonathan smiles, the same way he did the night you met him on the Wheeler’s porch. Nancy ducks her head down shyly, the same way she did the night she opened the door to let you into her home. 

You squeeze their hands one last time before leaving to say goodbye to the others. 

Lucas wishes you luck, Will hugs you as tight as ever, and El offers you a partial smile. She’s still recovering from whatever the monster did to her leg, so you brush some hair out of her face and kiss her head.

“Sucks you were down in hell this whole time. Could really go for a brownie right now.” Mike says, a light in his eyes as El’s head rests in his lap.

You stick your tongue out at him. “Sorry, couldn’t find a way to bake while getting chased by Russians with guns.”

“Lame.”

“Goodbye, Wheeler.”

Then you turn to Max, who has been silent this entire time. She hugs you tightly when she sees you. “He’ll be okay, right?”

Your body goes stiff. Somehow, in the midst of Hopper and the others, you had forgotten about Billy. How he’s infected. Flayed. It hasn’t escaped your notice that no one seems to want to bring the matter up, either. When it had been Will, everyone had wanted to make sure he wouldn’t die if the gate closed. 

But no one has asked the same question for Billy. 

Swallowing, you slowly reciprocate Max’s embrace. “We’ll… We’ll find a way. We always do.”

Though the words aren’t meant to be a lie, you can’t help but feel that you’re breaking an oath when you say them. 

– 

Steve hadn’t noticed what brand of car the keys belonged to at first. However, the moment his brain recognizes the iconic Cadillac logo on its keychain, he practically starts to drool. A fucking Cadillac.

It doesn’t take him long to round everyone up and drag you outside.

“I was saying goodbye to Joyce,” you grumble, struggling to keep up with Steve’s quick footsteps.

“It’s a Cadillac, Y/N!” Steve can almost feel the foam pooling around his mouth. His footsteps increase even more, his body vibrating at the knowledge that he gets to drive his dream car. His dad hadn’t wanted to buy him one, said that the BMW was more practical. Reliable. When Steve pushes the mall’s front door open and sees the beautiful, timeless car parked perfectly in front of him, he almost collapses. “Oh, man, now this…This is what I’m talkin’ about!”

“‘Toddfather’?” Robin points out the license plate and its horrible name.

You make a face, but Steve doesn’t let her ruin his moment. He’s ecstatic. This is arguably the best thing that has happened to him all day (besides maybe kissing you). For fuck’s sake, it’s a goddamn Cadillac. “Oh, screw Todd! Steve’s her daddy now.”

Steve hops into the car’s front seat like a little kid with a toy car. Meanwhile you, Robin, Dustin, and Erica retract your heads in disgust at what he’s just said. Robin looks at you, repulsed. “Did he just talk about himself in the third person?”

Erica follows up with her own creeped out question. “Did he just call himself daddy?” 

“I’m choosing to ignore him right now.” You say to both of the girls, pressing a hand to your forehead as you walk to the car. There’s so much you don’t want to unpack with what Steve has said. 

“You can’t ignore me, Y/N.” Steve leans over the center counsel and opens the passenger door for you. “We already established that I’m really annoying.” 

“Just take us to Weathertop, please.” You buckle yourself in and make sure the kids have their seatbelts on as well. When you see that Robin has found herself in the middle seat, you snicker at her. She’s squished between Dustin and Erica, her knees are pressed uncomfortably to her chest.

“Why did I get stuck in the middle?” She complains.

Steve fixes one of the mirrors before revving the engine. As he pulls out of the mall’s parking lot, he offhandedly responds, “Passenger seat is reserved for girls I’m dating.”

Everyone in the backseat gags, and you blush furiously. You and Steve haven’t had the time to talk about your relationship. Or if there even is a relationship. But he’s just referred to you as the girl he’s dating. He kissed you yesterday, or was it today?

Time has blurred together, but Steve’s hand rests on your thigh as he drives and you’re his girl. 

There will be time to talk about all of it later. You’ll make sure of it this time. 

Steve’s foot presses on the gas, speeding through Hawkins. Neither of you were given an exact time frame from Hopper, but he presses down harder on the pedal and sends the car flying. There’s music on the radio, doing its best to distract everyone, but your hands are still antsy. You’re nervous, there’s still so much left unspecified within the plan. Steve notices your fidgeting fingers and removes his hand from your thigh to play with them; he’s trying to soothe you. 

You intertwine your fingers through his and smile at him. Steve winks back at you, and you admire how lovely he looks as he drives. The moment is broken when Robin shoves her head between the two of you. “What the hell is a Cerebro?”

“It’s basically a radio tower that Dustin built for his girlfriend, Suzie.” You explain to her, voice raised to be heard over the music and wind. “She lives in Utah.”

Robin raises an eyebrow, intrigued. She leans back in her seat and pokes Dustin’s shoulder. “Suzie must be really special, huh? I mean, if you built this thing and lugged it all the way to the middle of nowhere just to talk to her.” 

Your brother preens at this, pleased someone has recognized his romantic efforts. “I mean, nobody’s scientifically perfect, but Suzie’s about as close to being perfect as any human could possibly be.”

“She sounds made up to me.” Erica snarks from the backseat. She looks over at Steve, tries to get his opinion. “She sound made up to you?”

Steve hesitates for just a fraction of a second too long, and you sigh. Dustin notices it, too. “Why are you hesitating, Steve?”

“I–I’m not!” He looks to you for help, but you only shake your head at him. All he had to do was respond promptly. This is his own fault. “I’m not hesitating! I–I think she sounds real. You know, totally, absolutely real.”

“Not really loving your uncertain tone, Steve.” You say, and Dustin nods in agreement. “Suzie is real. I mean, I’m almost positive that she is.”

Dustin does a double take at your use of the word “almost”. He’s about to say something, demand to know why you’re not certain Suzie is real, before he notices that Steve is about to miss the Weathertop turn. “Left, turn left!”

“There’s not a road here?” Steve argues, squinting his eyes in the dark to see whatever the hell the kid is seeing.

Dustin screams at him again to turn, and you only have a second to brace yourself before Steve jerks the wheel. The car’s tires screech on the asphalt as your body gets thrown forward. You scream, getting war flashbacks to when you’d been in the back of Billy’s car as Max had very recklessly driven you and Steve to the tunnels. Somehow, this is so much worse. 

The car breaks through a fence and your screaming only intensifies. “What the fuck?”

“Hendersons, where are we going?” Steve screams to you and your brother. He’s desperately trying to keep hold of the steering wheel as the car struggles against the hillside’s grass. 

“Up!” You and Dustin exclaim. One hand clutches the door, the other clutches the seat. The entire car is practically at a ninety degree angle as Steve continues to drive up the hill. It’s bumpy, your head hits the back of the seat more times than you would like, and your heart races. 

The car makes a concerning amount of strange noises the further up the hill you drive. Robin clutches her stomach. “We’re not going to make it!” 

“Yes we are!” Steve does everything he can. His foot never leaves the gas. “C’mon, baby. C’mon!” 

“Sweet talking the car won’t help!” You shriek after a particularly rough bump leaves you nauseous. The poor car strains against the giant hill. The tires, not at all made for off-roading, get caught in the grass. 

Steve hits the wheel and curses. “C’mon! Please!” He presses harder on the gas, but the car comes to a stop. The tires move uselessly against the slick mud underneath.

Ill and desperately wanting to get out of the car, you unbuckle your seatbelt. “We can walk the rest of the way, Steve.” He gives you a despaired look, pleading with you to let him continue playing with his new car, but you roll your eyes at him. You’re five seconds away from vomiting, he can deal with abandoning the car. “The Toddfather is dead. We can mourn her later.”

Steve groans but turns the car off as everyone gets out, preparing for the walk ahead. The hill is just as steep as it had been earlier this week when you were with the party. While you’re annoyed you have to walk it again, at least this time it’s night and the heat isn’t as suffocating. 

When you reach the crest of the hill, Dustin immediately runs to Cerebro. He crouches next to the radio and turns it on. “Bald Eagle, do you copy? Bald Eagle, I repeat, this is Scoops Troop, do you copy?”

Bald Eagle had been your idea. 

“Scoops Troop?” You ask your brother.

He nods, proud. “Thought of it myself.”

“Not bad, buddy.”

Murray’s voice crackles over the walkie. “Yes, I copy.”

Everyone lets out a breath of relief when you hear him. So far, the first phase of the plan seems to be working. Cerebro can reach all the way down to the lair; you can communicate with Hopper and Joyce. So far, so good.

Dustin starts to give Murray the directions he’ll need for the vents. You and Steve roam the perimeter of the hill, weary and needing something to do. While you’re far from the Russians below you, you still don’t necessarily feel like you’re out of harm’s reach. Robin stays with the kids, figuring it’s best to give the two of you some time alone. 

You stare out into the view of Hawkins from so high above. Weathertop has always been your favorite spot in the small town. Your first summer in Hawkins, Jonathan had introduced you to the hill; you used to spend all your time up here with him. You’d spend hours running up and down the length of it, giggling and sunkissed. If you stand still enough, you can still hear the laughter in the breeze. You miss Jonathan and being kids with him. 

“I haven’t been up here in years.” Steve stands next to you, voice soft. He stares out into the field as well, admires its beauty the way you are, though really he just wants the excuse to look at you. “Forgot how peaceful it was.”

“I love it here,” you tell him. “Late in the summer, dandelions appear. They scatter the entire hilltop. I like running through them.”

“Well, when they start to bloom,” Steve wraps his arms around your waist, pulls you back into his chest. He presses a soft kiss to your cheek, lingers. He hasn’t held you in so long, his body aches with the weight of yours against it. “We can run through them together.”

You smile into the embrace, lean into the kiss, tremble into the words. He will always make you weak. It’s an exhilarating feeling, knowing someone can dismantle every bone in your body with less than six words. “I think I’d like that–”

From the corner of your eye, you see lights flickering in the distance. They catch your attention, standing out against the black backdrop of the night sky. You shrug Steve off, feeling a tug in your chest to walk closer to the hill’s edge. You need to figure out what you’re seeing. With every step you take, the more your vision focuses in on the lights, the more dread fills your body.

It’s the mall. The lights are coming from the mall. 

You freeze. 

The lights are going haywire, flickering wildly. It’s supposed to be deserted. Jonathan and the others were supposed to have left already, but still your stomach sinks. Something isn’t right. 

Steve stumbles after you, confused as to why you pulled away, but when he sees the mall as well, he stills. “What the…?”

“They left. They said they would be gone by now.” You try to calm yourself down, try to focus on the reasoning. The mall is empty. It’s supposed to be empty. Jonathan promised you he would make it to Murray’s safely. He wouldn’t lie, he would never lie to you. 

Robin, Dustin, and Erica come up behind you and Steve. You all stand there at the crest. No one moves, transfixed by what they see. The lights continue to flicker, miles below, impossibly too far away from help.

Someone has to help.

Your feet move, twisting your body to run back to the radio. You need answers. You need to know what the hell is going on, if everyone is safe, and Dustin is right behind you. He falls to the grass in front of the radio and frantically brings it to his lips. “Griswold Family, this is Scoops Troop. Do you copy? Over!”

He repeats the call over and over, but no one responds. With each passing moment of silence, your panic turns into blind fear. “I repeat, do you copy–” A sudden, horrifyingly familiar screech, one that has haunted your nightmares for years now, rips through the radio’s speaker. It’s loud and gruesome and sends ice into your body. Your brother’s concern rivals your own. “Griswold Family, please confirm your safety. Are you enroute to Bald Eagle’s nest?”

Dustin is screaming into the radio at this point, demanding answers, but there’s only snarling on the other side. Your breathing quickens, the edges of your vision blur. Sweat trickles down your neck. You can’t breathe. Jonathan is still at the mall. Mike and Will. Nancy, Max and Lucas. 

El.

The Mind Flayer has them. 

Steve tries to grab your hand, but you’re blind to it all. In raw desperation, you tear the radio out of Dustin’s hands and bring it to your own lips. “Jonathan! Nancy! Mike, anyone.”

Your pleads fill the void of a response in the night air. Steve sits next to you, all he can do is watch as your pleading turns into begging. Your voice cracks, the words scratch your throat. Seeing your white-knuckled grip on the radio, Steve can’t take it anymore. 

“C’mon,” he takes your hand and pulls you up. Numb with fear, your body is limp. You try to fight him, you don’t know why he’s pulling you away from the radio when your friends need help, but Steve has made up his mind. He takes the device out of your hands and makes you look at him. “They need our help.”

“That’s what I’m trying to do!”

“Y/N, look at me.” Steve motions to the car, and finally you understand. “We’re going.”

Relief threatens to make your knees weak. Too wired from the debilitating combination of fear and helplessness, all you can do is nod at Steve and allow him to guide you down the hill. Dustin and Erica see that you’re leaving and try to stop you. “Where are you going?”

“To get them the hell outta there!” Steve calls over his shoulder, fumbling through his pocket to retrieve the keys. “Stay here, contact the others!”

Dustin calls out your name, anxious. He doesn’t want you to leave, and you hate that you have to leave him. But right now, he and Erica are as far from danger as physically possible. Weathertop hill is miles away from Starcourt. Right now, Jonathan needs you, and so do the others. Breaking out of Steve’s grasp, you run back to your brother and kiss his forehead. “I’ll be back, I promise.”

You run back to the car where Steve awaits, and Robin is quick to follow. She runs after the two of you and catches the walkie that Dustin tosses her. “Stay in touch,” he orders the three of you, still entirely against the whole thing. 

“We will!” You shout back at him, already crawling into the car. “Stay safe, don’t do anything stupid, and stay here.”

The backdoor closes, Robin’s seatbelt clicks into place, then the Cadillac’s engine roars to life.

–

Your hands won't stop shaking as Steve drives. Nothing he says can reassure you. The car hasn’t gone below seventy miles an hour despite the narrow road, and still it doesn’t feel like it will be enough. 

“I’m sure they’re okay.” Steve tries again to sound convincing, like his hands also don’t shake as he grips the steering wheel. “I mean, they have El. She’s a superhero.”

“Total superhero.” Robin unhelpfully chimes in. Her own nervousness is on display as she twists her fingers together. 

You draw your knees into your chest, trying desperately to make yourself smaller. You’re terrified for your friends, you should’ve never split up. The party always does better when it’s together. Forcing air into your lungs, you stare out the windshield. “How much farther?”

“A minute, maybe even less.” Steve promises, pressing down even harder on the gas pedal. The engine’s roar deafens your ears, and you welcome the distraction. 

In the distance you see Starcourt’s blinding neon lights. They grow bigger and bigger with every passing second, and you release the breath you had been holding when you see that you’re close. The moment of relief is short lived, however, when you hear gunshots pierce through the night. The sound rings in your eyes and the sight of Nancy firing the gun chokes you. 

“There!” You point towards where she stands and Steve changes the direction of the car. The tires screech and your body thuds against the door but you don’t care. All you can focus on is Nancy standing in front of Jonathan’s car, unmoving as she fires bullet after bullet. Something seems to be wrong with his car, you can hear the engine fail each time he turns the key.

You squint your eyes. At first, you can’t see what Nancy is firing at, but within seconds you see the third car barreling straight towards her at a terrifying speed. In the driver’s seat is Billy. “Steve!”

“I see him!” He floors it. 

The impact knocks all the air out of your body. It all happens so fast. Glass shatters. Metal hits metal. Your body gets thrown, your head roughly hits Steve’s shoulder as the car spins out. Your eyes squeeze shut at the momentum. You can’t remember if you scream. 

“Are you guys okay?” Steve asks, panting, as soon as he car comes to a stop. His head is spinning yet the first thing he does is look to see if you’re hurt. There’s some glass in your hair, but for the most part there isn’t a scratch on you, which he’s thankful for. 

“Ask me tomorrow?” Robin stares blankly ahead, still trying to process what’s just happened. 

It takes a few moments for you to come to. Your ears are ringing. Your neck aches from being thrown so suddenly to the left. “Let’s never do that again.”

“Agreed…” Robin swallows, but quickly her mouth goes dry. “Oh, shit.”

You follow her line of sight and nearly throw up. The Mind Flayer crawls over the mall and releases a thundering screech, and the size of it alone makes you want to cry. It’s huge, bigger than anything you’ve ever seen before. 

A car honks behind you, breaking you from your terror. Your head whips around, finding Nancy in the passenger seat of Jonathan’s car. “Get in!”

Quickly the three of you scramble out of the wrecked car. There isn’t room in any of the passenger seats, so you yank the trunk door open and scream at Robin and Steve to crawl in. It’s a tight fit, you have to press your back against Steve’s chest, but it’ll have to do. 

As soon as the trunk is closed, Jonathan steps on the gas. You’re thrown further into Steve’s chest and Robin, who sits in front of you, lets out a quiet yelp when she sees the Mind Flayer chasing after the car, not far behind. Seeing this as well, Jonathan takes a rough turn and everyone in the car tries to brace for the rest of the ride. 

“Are you okay, bug?” Jonathan shouts over his shoulder, eyes still on the road.

“Fine and dandy,” you pick a piece of glass out of your hair. Steve helps, carefully combing through your hair as well. The Mind Flayer screams, tries to lunge at the car, and your heart skips a beat. You try to distract yourself. “I crash cars every day. How about you guys, what brought y’all out here tonight?”

“Billy.” Everyone in the car says in unison.

You wince. “It’s always him, isn’t it?”

No one answers. Your quips don’t land. Robin hasn’t looked away from the Mind Flayer yet, Steve doesn’t want to look at it. Jonathan stares at the road ahead of him and Nancy flinches every time the Mind Flayer’s body thuds against the earth. The rest of the kids are silent, the echoes of its footfalls pounding against their eardrums. 

It’s grim in the car. Really fucking grim. 

“Dusty-bun, you copy?” A girl’s voice comes through over the radio. It’s not a voice you recognize; never in your life have you heard anyone besides your own mother refer to your brother as Dusty-bun.

Steve’s bewildered expression matches your own. Then Dustin’s voice crackles through the radio, and your bewilderment turns into relief. At least your brother is far away from whatever the hell is chasing you right now. “I copy, Suzie-poo. It sounds much better now, thanks.” 

“Suzie,” Steve and Robin breathe out at the same time. You smile at them, smug. They had their doubts, but you were almost certain she had been real. Serves them right. 

The nickname Dustin has for his girlfriend, however, is awful. “‘Suzie-poo’? That’s the best nickname he could’ve come up with?”

“I like bee, better.” Jonathan agrees.

Steve scoffs. “Honey has a nicer ring to it.”

“Both of you shut up!” You don’t have time for their weird ‘my horse is bigger than yours’ competition. Dustin’s started speaking over the radio again and you’re trying to listen in case it’s important. He’s asking Suzie whether she knows what Planck’s constant is, and you have no idea how any of this is relevant to the situation at hand. 

“Okay, so I know it starts with two sixes, and then a…” Dustin’s voice trails off. Apparently this Planck thing is a number, one he can’t seem to remember. “W-What is it?”

“Okay, let me just be clear on this.” The tone of Suzie’s voice makes you pity your brother. It’s an angry tone, annoyed and fed up. Whatever she’s about to say, it won’t be pretty. “I haven’t heard from you in a week, and now you want a mathematical equation that you should know so you can… save the world?”

You whistle, commending the girl’s sense of self worth. “She’s got a point.” 

Dustin pleads with her, promising that he’ll make it up to Suzie as soon as he can. You feel a bit bad for him, honestly. He really had been trying to contact her ever since he got home from camp. How was he supposed to know his week would end up being dominated by Russians?

“You can make it up to me now.” Suzie’s voice lowers a frightening octave. You have no idea what she’s about to say, and a large part of you wants to throw the radio out the window before you’re forced to find out. 

“What?” Dustin sounds frightened as well, which doesn’t make you feel any better. 

“I want to hear it.”

Horror fills you. It’s worse. So much worse than you ever could’ve imagined. You know exactly what Suzie wants from Dustin. “Oh, no… He told her.”

“Told her what?” Steve asks you, confused by this entire ordeal. Dustin and Suzie argue in the background. She’s insistent and your brother tries his best to convince her otherwise. 

Jonathan’s eyes meet Steve’s in the rearview mirror, mischief in them. “Theater camp.”

“Jonathan Byers, I will hurt you!” You hiss at him, utterly mortified. Sometimes you despise the fact that he’s your closest friend. He knows far too much about you. 

Steve has so many questions, but he forgets all of them when Dustin starts to sing. “Turn around, look at what you see.”

His voice is clear and beautiful, a testament to the countless hours the two of you were forced to endure in vocal lessons. When you were younger and still living in Virginia, your mother made you and your brother attend a musical theater camp every summer. She loved having you guys perform little shows for her around the house. Said your voices were like angels to listen to. 

The day you and Dustin moved to Hawkins, you both swore to never tell anyone about the camp. The secret would die with you. 

Jonathan only knows about it because your mom had him video tape Christmas carols a few years ago (like the traitor that he is). It had taken several batches of cookies, numerous pleas, and a handful of threats to ensure he wouldn’t tell anyone what he saw. 

“In her face, the mirror of your dreams.” Dustin’s melodic voice floats through the car. The song had been one the two of you sang frequently at camp, its verses simple yet fun to sing together. 

Steve and Robin share a look of disbelief. They’ve completely forgotten about the Mind Flayer still chasing after the car. Suzie, a surprisingly good singer as well, now joins Dustin. They sing together, in a sweet, childish way. You can’t help but sing along, harmonizing with them. 

Everyone in the car looks at you as if you’re insane, but you’re too tired and exhausted to care. You’ve had the weirdest two days of your goddamn life. Sue you for singing along. It’s a good song. 

That, or maybe you’re just delirious from dehydration.

After a minute or so, the song comes to a close, and you’re almost saddened by that. You’ve missed singing with your brother. You make a mental note to bug him about it later. “Planck’s constant is 6.62607004.”

Dustin laughs into the radio, happy that Suzie finally revealed the number. “You just saved the world!”

“Gosh, I miss you, Dusty-bun.”

The two continue to go back and forth with their baby talk, which you cringe at. It’s disgusting to overhear, although you guess you understand now why Dustin hates being around you and Steve. You’ll apologize to him later. 

Dustin’s voice cuts off unexpectedly, which you assume is Erica’s doing. You’ll also thank her later. The car goes quiet again. No one knows what to follow Dustin’s impromptu performance with. 

“So, theater camp, huh?” Steve finally breaks the silence, squeezing you gently in his arms as he teases. 

“Tell anyone and I swear I’ll–” The Mind Flayer suddenly turns around, catching your attention. It runs away, back towards the mall. It doesn’t make any sense. Everyone is here, in the car. It only wants El. Unease twists your stomach. You lean forward and look at who is in the car. When you see Will and Lucas in the seat in front of you, you panic. “Where are the others?”

You’re practically crawling over the seat to try and get to Jonathan and Nancy. “Where’s Max and El? Where the hell is Mike?”

Nancy tries to distance herself from your anger. “We got separated, but they’re–they’re fine. We had to guide the Mind Flayer away from the mall–”

“So you left them?”

“We didn’t really have much of a choice, Y/N!” Nancy screams back at you now, insulted that you truly believe she would ever leave her brother behind willingly. She wouldn’t do that. She knows that you know this. 

“It’s going back for them! It fucking turned around, can’t you see that? We need to follow it, now!” 

“Y/N–”

“Turn. Around.”

“Steve, sit Y/N back down!” Jonathan’s yell cuts in between you and Nancy. You’re about to start spewing curses at him, but Steve’s arms are strong and force you back into his lap. You’re livid. “Hold on!” 

Jonathan knows you’re right. He tightens his hold on the steering wheel and stomps on the brakes. The car spins, he twists the wheel, controls it as best as he can, before he steadies the vehicle and accelerates back towards the mall. 

– 

When you get to the mall, Lucas announces that he has a plan. 

“Fireworks have an insane amount of gunpowder in them.” He explains to the group, waving around a handful of fireworks he left in the trunk. You’re all carrying some as you run through the mall’s parking lot. “If we tie them together, we can mimic the damage of dynamite.”

“Think it’ll be enough to kill the Mind Flayer?” Nancy asks, hesitant.

“If we throw them from above, yeah!”

You kiss Lucas’ cheek, only barely managing not to trip over your feet as you run. “I think you’re a genius, Sinclair.”

Inside the mall, everyone quickly sets the fireworks up. Faintly you can hear the Mind Flayer lurking somewhere, its roars echoing throughout the building, but it hasn’t found you guys yet. Lighters get passed around, fireworks get messily taped together, groups are divided in an attempt to cover the most ground. Jonathan with Nancy. Will with Lucas. You and Steve with Robin.

You’re taping together the last of your fireworks when you look down over the railing. You almost drop the fireworks in your hand when you see Billy hovering over El. He’s so much bigger than she is. She’s hardly even visible beneath him. Your stomach churns. “He’s here.”

Thuds shake the ground. The Mind Flayer descends from the rooftop and crawls over to where Billy has placed El. Its mouth opens, preparing for the kill, and Lucas throws the first firework. “Flay this, you ugly piece of shit!”

Bursts of light collide into the monster. It hisses, turns to face the direction the firework was thrown, and Lucas throws another into its mouth. 

Smoke begins to fill the air. The whistle of the rockets sting your ears. The light blinds you. It’s loud and messy and fireworks rain down upon the monster. Everyone throws the bundles they have, and yet still you hesitate. Billy’s eyes flash through your mind. How the red in them overtook the icy blue. The sweat that poured from his face. The cruelty that seeped through his skin. 

It’s horrible what’s happened to him. He didn’t deserve to become a pawn in this maddening game. 

But someone has to end it. You breathe in, relax your body, and bring your lighter to the first firework. Its heat licks at your skin as you release it into the air. You hit the side of its body, sending the Mind Flayer stumbling back. 

“Hey, asshole. Over here!” Steve throws a firework and its blasts almost scorches the two of you. It’s dangerous, stray fireworks threaten to crash into everyone, but the plan seems to be working. WIth every hit the Mind Flayer takes, the more he weakens. 

Your thumb burns as you light fireworks over and over again. The motion is repetitive, just enough to keep the fear in you at bay. It’s deafening within the mall. It’s exhilarating. It’s dizzying. Reds, blues, yellows, greens all light up the sky. 

Distantly, through the haze of smoke, you watch as the fireworks affect Billy as well. He cowers each time the Mind Flayer gets hit, but it also seems to enrage him as well. He grabs El’s wounded leg and drags her closer to the monster.

Helplessly you wish you were down there with El, helping her. However, all you can do is continue throwing fireworks in a crazed attempt to save the ones you love. You scream with every throw, exerting all your strength to throw them as far as you physically can. But you’re quickly running out of ammunition. 

“Dustin, we’re out of time!” Steve screams into the walkie, breath heaving with soot on his face. 

Your brother screams back, pleading with Hopper to close the gate. No one answers him, and you hold back exhausted sobs as you throw the remaining fireworks. They won’t be enough. Someone has to close the gate, sever any connection the Upside Down has to your world. It’s the only way any of you are making it out alive. 

Yet it remains open, and Billy has now crawled back on top of El. 

She seems to be saying something to him, but in the cloud of smoke and explosions you can’t be sure. Robin helps you light the last firework, Steve aims it, and you’re numb to it all. He throws it, it explodes into a shower of purple. Its ashes scatter around Billy, singes his back, and you see now that he’s stopped moving. 

“That was the last one!” Robin shouts over the screams of the fireworks. Steve runs a hand through hair and curses. There isn’t anything else the three of you can do.

You run to the railing and look around, feverish to find any way to help. Jonathan catches your eye from across the plaza. He looks just as distraught as you are. Your palm hits against the metal of the railing in frustration. There has to be something. Then you see Max and Mike below, standing on the outskirts of where Billy and El are, all alone. 

“I’m going down!” You scream to Robin and Steve. You have to get down there. Someone has to be with them. They’re too close to the fire and explosions and monsters. 

“Y/N, wait–” Steve tries to stop you, but you plead with him. 

“Steve, I need you to trust me.” There’s a raw, overwhelming feeling within you that something bad is about to happen. You can’t shake it, the feeling of loss being inevitable frightens you. For three years now you’ve saved everyone, done everything right. For three years, you’ve gotten lucky. You don’t know how to explain all of this to Steve, the fear that has followed you ever since you first intercepted the Russian code. “Please.”

Maybe it’s the way you say it. Maybe it’s the tears that stream down your face as you look at him. Whatever the reason may be, Steve reluctantly lets go of you. Endlessly thankful for him, your hands cradle his face as you kiss him. He makes a cute, surprised noise, and you wish more than anything that you can bask in the warmth of his lips, but you can’t. 

You force yourself to pull away. “I’ll be back, take care of the others.”

And then you’re gone. 

Footsteps echoing against the walls of the mall, you run down the stairs and straight towards Max and Mike. They hear you approach and suddenly they’re both in your arms. They hold onto you tightly, none of you can tear your eyes away from the scene in front of you. Billy slowly stands up and away from El. His movements are labored as he walks in front of the Mind Flayer, blocking its path to her. 

They stand, face to face, unmoving. Predator against prey. Your heart pounds in your throat as you watch, too scared to move. In an almost imperceptible velocity, the Mind Flayer extends its claws. 

Billy raises his arms, stopping the monster from piercing through El, protecting her. “No!” A guttural, animalistic scream tears apart his vocal chords. He screams, over and over again, as the Mind Flayer struggles against him. 

Max freezes in your arms, you feel her choke on her gasp. 

Everything happens slowly after that. 

The first claw that penetrates Billy’s side. 

The second one that cuts through his other side. 

Then the third one, the fourth and the fifth and the sixth. They pierce through his skin, sink into the flesh. His body goes limp as he’s suspended into the air. The Mind Flayer hisses down at him, its teeth bared, and Billy, who has never been afraid, screams in the face of death as the monster fatally punctures his chest. 

Everything stops.

“Billy!” You will never forget the pain in Max’s scream. It will become yet another sound that haunts your nightmares. 

As you stand there with a paralyzed Max in your arms, the Mind Flayer drops Billy’s body onto the ground. He lands with a sickening thud. The Mind Flayer’s body crashes into the walls, it convulses, spasms, leaving destruction in its wake. Then, all together, it stills and falls to the ground.

The gate has been closed. 

Mike tears himself from your arms and runs over to El. He pulls her into a hug and she begins to sob. You and Max walk numbly over to them, neither of your eyes leave Billy’s bleeding body. He shudders weakly where he lays, a pool of blood encasing his body. 

“Billy?” Max knees next to him. She’s crying, she doesn’t know what to do. There’s so much blood. “Billy, get up. Please, Billy. Get up, please.”

You kneel next to her, at her side through it all. 

Blood pours from Billy’s mouth. He coughs and the wet sound only makes Max cry harder. He looks up at you, his eyes are finally blue again. “Talking to you… sweetheart.”

But if you need anyone to talk to, about anything, come find me, okay?

Those had been your last words to him. 

“Billy…” He had tried to find you. He had been lost and scared and alone. He didn’t know what had been happening to him, why his anger became venom. A sob is wrenched from your mouth. He had been all alone, and he had tried to find you.

Billy coughs again, more blood leaks from his wounds. With the last of his strength, he turns his head to Max. “I’m sorry…” His chest heaves in pain, he labors two final breaths, before his chest falls entirely. It doesn’t rise again. 

Max shakes his shoulders, uncaring for the wounds there. She shakes him, begs and pleads with him to wake up, but his body remains lifeless. She lets out one final, anguished sob. “Billy.” 

She buries her face in your chest and sobs. You hold her, El joins. The girl tries to soothe Max, she tries to keep you together, but you break as well. 

You cry for the boy Billy had once been. Max had told you stories from before. How he would drive her to the skate park, scare off any older boy who tried to taunt her. She told you about how he used to love surfing in California, before his mom had left them and his dad became violent. 

Max told you about how kind Billy had once been, she knows he used to be kind. How she could see it in him still, hiding the bruises from his father to not scare her. To make her feel safe in their own home even if he intimidated her as well; it was the violence in him that was created by a monster far more vile than the Mind Flayer. 

You cry for Max, too young to lose such a complicated loved one. You know the pain better than anyone else. How it hurts to grieve them, how it makes you feel pathetic to miss someone who has only hurt you, but the tenderness of knowing them tethers you to it all. Billy had been her brother. There is no greater tether than that. 

You cry because you loved and have lost. You will blame yourself for having not said anything about Billy’s off behavior. You had seen the first signs of what the Mind Flayer did to him. He had been stranded on the side of the road, bloodied and bruised, blue eyes darker than normal, and you had done nothing except tell him to come find you. 

And then you had left him. 

Billy Hargrove died alone.

You and Max will share the burden of this guilt. 

– 

Jonathan finds you first, then Steve. You’re on the floor, kneeling with Max in your arms, two broken pieces finding solace in the other. Billy’s body lies next to you, neither you nor Max can bear to look at it. 

“I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’m sorry,” they’re the only words you can say to the girl. 

Max clutches your arms around her and her tears soak your shirt. El and Steve try to coax her out of your arms, but she doesn’t move. She refuses to let go of you, though she allows Jonathan to drape his arms over you and hold you as your own sobs echo within the mall. 

Nancy and the others join. They leave a wide berth around the dead body before them. Nancy sees that you’re in no condition to guide, so she takes over for you. She instructs Steve and Lucas to take Max from your arms so that they can stand the two of you up. The fire from the wreckage is quickly spreading and you’ll need to evacuate soon.

“It’s okay, bug. You’re okay.” Jonathan whispers in your ear, one hand delicate on your arm. Steve’s hands rest upon your other arm, and together the two of them are able to get you onto your feet. 

Your body shakes, grief sits heavily upon your chest. Steve’s eyes never leave your weak frame. 

It’s all a blur after that. 

Firefighters break through the mall and evacuate the building. Nancy and Jonathan do all the talking. Someone, you think it’s Steve, carefully guides you through the maze of burning rubble and bodies. It’s raining outside and the soft thunder almost drowns out the drone of the helicopters that swarm the building. 

There are ambulances amongst the military trucks and you’re shoved into one by a concerned medic. The woman explains to you that you’re in shock, that your body is in a state of perpetual flight. She allows Steve to sit and stay with you only after she’s finished patching up his split lip and bruised eye. 

“It’s going to take some time to heal,” the medic explains to you. She’s soft spoken, maternal, and in your numb state she reminds you of your mother. “You kids went through a lot tonight.”

Time. 

It always goes back to time. 

Steve rubs your back and kisses the top of your head every few minutes. You rest your head against his shoulder, body pressed against his, a blanket draped around both of your shoulders’. Neither of you say anything. His hand on your back is warm, it unthaws the ice that the shock has left behind. His touch grounds you, keeps you afloat. 

A car pulls up in the distance and its doors slam. Your eyes drift up, finding Joyce’s as she stumbles through the crowd of armed soldiers and firefighters. She stumbles around, lost in some haze that clouds her once shining face. Joyce looks around in concern, trying to find her sons, and somehow you know, even before her face crumbles when she sees you, that something terrible has happened.

Her eyes meet yours. 

Hopper isn’t with her.

Will rushes towards his mother and almost knocks her down with how hard he hugs her. Joyce clings onto him and breaks into heartwrenching, bone crushing, sobs. You can hear her from where you sit with Steve, you can feel the weight of her loss like thickened water in your lungs. 

In the other ambulance next to you, El, who had been resting in Mike’s lap, stands up when she sees Joyce. She walks towards the woman as she embraces her son. Though El faces away from you, standing alone in the middle of the parking lot, the way her shoulders shake as she begins to fall apart indicates the remnants of her childhood have died tonight.

“Hopper’s dead.” They’re the first words you’ve spoken all night. Your voice is hoarse from disuse and the words echo, taunting you. 

Steve doesn’t say anything, only a heavy sigh leaves his body. 

There were three deaths tonight. Billy, Hopper, and El’s childhood. One for every year you got lucky. The fear that had been creeping through the back of your mind finally presents itself to you. It manifests in the humid July air and it laughs at you. Saving Will, closing the gate, destroying the Mind Flayer. They were debts needed to be fulfilled, and they were paid for tonight.

You see Max and Robin sitting on a stretcher across from you. Max also hasn’t said anything all night, lost in her own grief and remorse. Joyce still sobs in Will’s arms. El grieves alone, mourning the closest thing she’s ever had to a father. 

You see Jonathan and Nancy whispering quietly to one another in another ambulance. They share a blanket like you do with Steve, but Nancy’s eyes are sunken in and Jonathan’s face is pale. Lucas and Mike sit together, too exhausted to say anything. 

You’re all bleeding or burned or bruised and you’re tired. 

“Sometimes…” Your voice cracks, tears threaten to silence you, and you force yourself to breathe in. Force yourself to focus, to get the words out. They’re important, somehow, even if you don’t know why. “Sometimes it feels like I’ve used up all my luck.”

Steve draws small circles into your ribcage. His fingers catch on the raised skin, the scar from when you saved his life last year. “Luck?”

“When Will went missing… It was pure luck that I found him. Brought him back home.” You weren’t supposed to have been with the kids when they found El. You were lucky that night, it was luck that threw you into the middle of it all. “It was luck that saved Will last year, too. Those tunnels…” Your body shivers at the memory. It had been so cold down there, the smell of the damp earth is a scent you will never forget. “And now I–”

Your words catch in your throat. Steve’s body presses against yours, he waits for you, patient. When your voice returns, you try again. “And now I… I’m not sure how I feel.”

“Why’s that, angel?” Steve listens, he tries to understand. “I mean, the Mind Flayer is gone. We won.”

You saved Hawkins. You saved El. You know this, and it should be enough, but it isn’t. “All the deaths that took place tonight stain everything.”

El’s father is dead. Joyce had come so close to loving again. Max no longer has someone to call a brother. Billy, who endured so much hurt when he was a child, never got the chance to experience kindness when he grew up. 

Billy never got the chance to become good, not like you did. You were lucky to have even become kind again in the first place. It had taken years to turn the hurt from your childhood into empathy. You had a mother who called you her sweet girl even when you screamed horrible insults at her. You had a brother who held your hand through the anger that your father left behind. You had a best friend who taught you that not everyone leaves. There had been people who loved you, who were gentle, who showed you that anger can be turned into something soft. 

But all Billy ever knew in his life was violence and cruelty. It isn’t fair. 

“My entire life I’ve been lucky,” your chest constricts as you confess everything to Steve. All your fear, the doubt, the insecurity. “Now it–it feels like I’ve used up all my luck.” Your fingers find Steve’s, a mind of their own as your body seeks the solace only he can bring. He doesn’t know that he’s the reason you believe you’ve had more luck than anyone else in their life. “I… I was lucky to have met you, to become your friend, someone you trust. How could I possibly have any luck left over after everything we’ve been through together?”

Everything burns in Steve. He understands what you’re trying to say, he does, but he doesn’t agree. Steve hooks the pad of his fingertip underneath your chin and coaxes your head up, he wants you to look at him as he speaks. He needs you to hear him. To understand. “Well, that’s where you’re wrong.”

You wipe your eyes, uncomfortable under Steve’s open and earnest gaze. “I’m wrong?”

He hums, strokes a finger from the dip of your cheek up to the crest of your brow. He admires you, memorizes the skin beneath his. “You’ve taught me a lot of things, but you’re wrong about that luck theory of yours. See, I have my own theory that you can never run out of luck if you love, and you taught me that to love and be loved is the luckiest thing a person can give and receive.”

Steve remembers the first day he ever saw you. He’d been thirteen, you had been twelve. He remembers how small you looked to him, yet lovely nonetheless, even back then. You had always been so lovely to Steve, kind, delicate, admirable. 

Your eyes stare into Steve’s and he remembers the first day he spoke to you. The squeal of your bike tires as you almost crashed into his car. The way the setting sun cast you in a golden glow in the ditch you landed in as Steve offered you his hand. How, the moment you laughed at what he said, he felt breathless. 

You smile at Steve now, the same smile all those years ago, the smile he saw when he was thirteen and believed in knights and dragons. Now, at eighteen, you smile at Steve and he believes in fates that attach people to one another and mold them into one being. 

“And I’m lucky enough to be able to love you, angel.” 

Steve’s words cut through you. They’re the good that remind you of the light of the sun that follows the dark of the night. It’s almost like an awakening, a slow remembering, how can someone run out of luck if they love with everything within them?

You see Mike now consoling El. She’s in pain, but Mike bears the hurt with her. You see Jonathan and Nancy sleep soundly against each other, safe in the other’s arms. Lucas holds Max’s hand as Robin cracks a joke that gets the young girl to laugh. Will strokes his fingers through his mother’s hair, offering her love that only a son can. 

Even while there is so much grief and pain within this world, the love that follows overwhelms it.

Steve stares down at you, eyes soft with contentedness. There isn’t a pressure behind them, he doesn’t need you to say anything to him. He’s simply happy to have you in his arms, to have you with him now, to remind him of how lucky he is, and you’re so full of love for him. 

“I’m lucky enough to be able to love you, too, sweet honey.”

Steve Harrington smiles the boyish smile that you fell for long before you knew what love even was, and he kisses you. He breathes you in, he has you right where he wants you. 

You finally, finally, have come home. 

– 

Time passes slowly afterwards; you take it one day at a time. 

After the mall burns down, your job is practically all but saved. It’s a small, bittersweet thing. Mrs. Waters had told you the news with her own bittersweet smile, mourning her dear friend Mrs. Driscoll who died in the fire. She will never know the truth, that the woman had become part of an army created by a monster. 

“But at least Doris would be happy that I still have my store,” the woman said as she stacked books with you at the counter. It had only taken you two days before finding yourself falling back into old habits. Your mother had wanted you to stay home for the rest of the summer, but Bookstrordinary has always been a second home to you, and you couldn’t bear the silence in the house. Mrs. Waters sighed sadly, looking down. “I miss her.”

“I’m sorry, Mrs. Waters.” You squeezed her hand, mourned with her.

Hopper’s funeral took place a week after Starcourt burned down. The entire town showed up, something that you know the old man would’ve hated, and he was crowned Hawkins’ hero. You spent the ceremony in the very back, holding El’s hand, so that the two of you wouldn’t be seen.

Billy’s funeral was a few days after Hopper’s. Max sat alone at the front of the church, Billy’s father had been too drunk to attend and her mother couldn’t get the time off of work. After the ceremony, the girl silently followed you into your car and spent the rest of the day at Bookstrordinary with you. She hadn’t wanted to go home to an empty house, and you understood the feeling. 

Max spends most of her summer with you at the store after that. Some days she helps restock the shelves, singing along to your set of tapes, bright and cheery. But some days she’s quiet, sits in a corner and pretends to read whatever you hand her. El stops by the store sometimes, too. You read comics to her, bake her the oatmeal raisin cookies she loves so much, and gossip about Mike and Lucas if Max is having one of her good days. 

During the first week you bake Joyce’s favorite muffins, the second week you bake her brownies. You offer her a shoulder to cry on every time you stop by the Byers home, you reminisce over Hopper and his disdain for you; she appreciates everything you do. 

Steve spends every single day with you, it doesn’t matter where you are. Without a job, he follows you everywhere. Whether you’re at work, at home, even at Jonathan’s or Nancy’s, he’s always able to find you with Robin right behind him. Nancy thinks the newfound trio is bizarre, but Jonathan can’t help but laugh whenever he sees Robin talking your ear off while Steve follows you around like a moth to a flame.

Together, you all try to heal.

Two weeks pass and you’re woken up by the ringing of your phone. 

“Hello?” Annoyance seeps through your greeting. You’ve only just managed to fall asleep, the nightmares at bay for once. 

“Come outside, angel.”

His voice wakes you up, the annoyance now replaced with confusion. “Steve?”

“Wear something warm, okay?”

“What–?” He hangs up, the line disconnects, and you’re completely taken aback by the phone call. You didn’t make any plans with Steve tonight, at least not any that you can recall. He had spent the day with you at work, ate dinner with you and your family, before watching a movie with Dustin and going home. 

You’re not entirely sure why he’s called you at nearly two in the morning to come outside, but you listen anyways. On your desk chair lays the cardigan Steve bought you for Christmas, his initials stitched into the sleeve. Sliding it over your shoulders, you quickly put it on before climbing through your window.

Steve’s car is parked two houses from yours, headlights off. There’s music faintly playing that can be heard through the window, and a familiar melody has you running to get inside. “The Beatles?”

They were the band that you and your dad used to listen to. His fingers would strum their songs on his guitar as the two of you sat side by side on the front porch of your childhood home. He would hum the words to you. Told you that you should know about real music. 

When your dad left, he took the music with him.

Jonathan had tried to get you into his favorite artists. The Smiths, David Bowie, the Clash. He would sit you down in his room and play their songs over his record player and watch your reactions. While the music was good, and you’ve come to love them because the artists reminded you of Jonathan, it was never the same as listening to the Beatles with your dad during early July mornings. 

Then one night, when you and Steve had been driving around Hawkins, a Beatles song began to play over the radio. Unknowing of your history with the band, Steve started to hum along the same way your dad would do, and it was finally then that music was brought back into your life.

“What, I don’t get a hello?” Steve is smiling ear to ear, seeing the flushed joy on your face and the cardigan you wear. 

You throw your body over the center console and hug him. “Hi, honey.”

As he drives, Steve is unusually quiet. His initial smug greeting upon your arrival is quickly overshadowed by a shy demeanor. Steve’s fingers fidget on the steering wheel, his foot taps against the car’s floor. The Beatles play softly within the car and somewhere along the route you find that the wooded scenery starts to look familiar.

He’s driving you to Lover’s Lake.

“Why are we heading towards the lake?” You ask Steve, but he pretends not to hear you. Instead, he turns the radio up and sings along to Paul McCartney. Your eyes wander to the backseat and notice a small box nestled against the leather. 

A few minutes later Steve parks the car and wordlessly the two of you get out. It’s dark, the moon reflects off the lake’s water. Crickets sing in the air and the waves lap at the shore. It’s a beautiful night, the July heat is masked by the night’s breeze; your cardigan keeps you warm. 

Lost in admiring the view, you don’t notice that Steve has left your side until he returns with a picnic basket. The box you saw earlier is tucked underneath his arm. You tilt your head at him, quizzically. “What are you planning, Harrington?”

Steve grabs your hand. “You’ll see.”

He leads you down to the lake’s edge where the water meets the sand. There’s a trail that Steve once found when he was nine. It had been during the last fishing trip he had ever taken with his dad. The man commanded him to hook the worm and Steve cried. Embarrassed and ashamed, Steve had run towards where the sand met the woods and found a meadow hidden within it. 

There are flowers in full bloom within the meadow, and you gasp when you see their vibrant pinks and blues. The flowers are delicate yet their stems are long. Steve sets the picnic basket down and pulls a blanket out from it. He sets it onto the grass and lays down, motioning you to join him. 

The stars are clear tonight, shining bright above the two of you. They almost seem to wink at you as you lay side by side with Steve. His hand is in yours, as it always is these days, and with only the stars as his witness, Steve whispers into your ear, “Thank you for staying.”

His breath warms your neck, and you know, without having to ask, what he’s thanking you for. Your promise to him last year, that you’d wait for him. He hadn’t been ready. The timing of it all wouldn’t have been right, but you knew, even back then, that you’d wait forever for Steve Harrington if it meant you’d receive even half of his love. 

Take your time, I’ll be here. 

“It was the easiest thing I’ve ever done.” The words come easily to you, raw with truth and vulnerability. 

A soft sigh escapes Steve. He turns his head to you, eyes finding yours, and you’ve never seen such tenderness within him. He opens his mouth, sighs out the words you’ve longed to hear again since that night at Starcourt. “I love you.”

“I love you, too.” You don’t think you’ll ever tire of saying those three words to him. There’s so much love within you, so much you’ve ached to give out ever since you were a little girl, and now you finally can. 

Steve kisses you with a softness that releases a sigh from your own lips, and you know he’s wholly, truly, yours now. With a swift motion, Steve places himself on top of you as you kiss. His weight presses down on you, one hand cups your cheek and the other steadies him. His hair tickles your face, his cologne clouds your brain, and the sweet taste of July honey coats your tongue. 

Minutes, maybe even hours, pass as you kiss Steve. It’s lazy, no sense of urgency as your lips move against his. It’s warm, it’s soft. Eventually he manages to pull himself away from you, he’s brought you here for other reasons tonight. 

“Hold on, I got you something.” Steve fixes his hair, clears his throat, and pulls out a container from the basket. He reveals a freshly baked loaf of banana bread on a beautiful glass plate. There’s a small, lopsided candle on top of it.

“You came prepared tonight,” you tease him, still breathless from the kisses and love.

“My mom did, actually. She’s the one who made this.” You sit up and look at Steve, wide eyed. He laughs at you, finding your stunned reaction endearing. “Relax, angel. She really wanted to bake you something, and I had to make up for allowing Russians to ruin your seventeenth birthday, didn’t I?” 

Words escape you. Steve’s mom made you banana bread, a woman you have still yet to meet, though you’ve only heard fond stories about. She had insisted on doing this kind thing for you. 

Steve lights the candle and holds the plate up for you. “C’mon, make a wish, Y/N.”

You close your eyes, smiling, and the wish comes easily to you.

For time to stay like this, forever.

You blow the candle out, Steve cuts the banana bread, and you take turns feeding it to one another. The dessert is delicious, freshly baked and still warm. It’s sweet and nostalgic and everything you could ever ask for. 

When you’ve finished eating, Steve claps his hands. “Alright, now onto the real event of the night!” 

You raise an eyebrow. “What, the kissing wasn’t enough?” Steve makes a panicked noise and you laugh at him. “I was teasing, honey.”

“You terrify me,” he huffs, before revealing a box from behind him, the very same one you’ve been curious about all night. 

“I aspire to be terrifying,” you stick your tongue out at Steve before turning the box over in your hands. It’s light, lighter than you expected. “Is this my gift you’ve been bragging about?” For months leading up to your birthday, Steve had been boasting about this amazing gift he had thought of, how he had convinced the party to help him. 

“Open it and find out.” There’s a glint in Steve’s eyes, yet you also see the shyness return as well. He’s nervous to see your reaction, he wants more than anything to have gotten this right. 

You roll your eyes at him but open the box. It isn’t wrapped like your other gifts from Steve have been. Instead the box is made of a dark oak, and its lid opens with a soft click. The silver catches your attention first. It’s a small chain with two silver ovals on opposite sides. In between the two ovals is a collection of charms. 

“Is this…?” The charms are all roughly the same size, but each vastly different from the other. 

Steve nods at you, rubs the back of his neck. “It’s a charm bracelet.” 

Moonlight reflects off of one of the charms, revealing it to be a frog, another one to be a cookie, and slowly you piece it together. There’s six charms, one for each member of the party. “Steve.”

“Have you figured it out–oomph!” He lands with a thud on his back as you attack him with a hug. Slightly out of breath, he laughs and wraps his arms around you. “I’ll take that as a yes, then.”

“How did you get the kids to do this?” You lay on top of him, blinking back tears as you hold the  bracelet delicately in your hands to admire it. 

Steve sighs in exasperation. “Money and a lot of begging. They were all for picking out charms for you, I just had to pay them to spend more than five minutes with me at the jewelry store.”

You laugh, that sounds exactly like them, and you love those kids with everything within you. Holding up the frog pendant, you know which kid picked it out for you. “Mike?”

“Yup. Said something about Kermit the frog?”

“He’s such a little shit,” you say with fondness. Last year, when Billy had nearly choked you to death, your voice had been lost and Mike wouldn’t stop referring to you as Kermit. Your fingers skim over the pendant next to it, a simple blue one, and you smile. “Dustin?”

“He told me about your code blues.” Steve rubs your back, content to have you resting against him. You hum, touched that your brother trusted Steve enough to confide this to. No one else knows about your code blues, it’d been a special thing just between the two of you. 

With your ear pressed against his chest, listening to his heartbeat, Steve explains the rest of the charms to you. His voice is lazy, slow, lilting with fondness, and his hand a firm weight against your back. Max chose a knife charm to remind you of how badass you are. Will chose a bee, because he’ll always be your little bee. Lucas was able to find a small, white flower that resembles a dogwood, knowing that it’s your favorite. As for El, she chose a cookie based solely on her love for the ones you bake for her. 

“What about the ovals?” You ask Steve after he’s done explaining what the kids chose for you. The ovals are slightly larger than the charms, almost serving as a divider between them. The metal is smooth underneath your fingers. 

He brushes hair out of your face and winks. “Turn them over.”

With slight confusion, you do, and discover that they’re engraved. Etched onto the back of one oval is honey, and, on the other, angel is written. They’re your names for one another, nestled between charms from the kids you love so dearly in your life; this is a gift made from pure, unadulterated love. 

“Oh my god,” it’s perfect, absolutely perfect. Your lips are all over Steve’s face before he even has time to blink. You scatter millions of kisses upon his face, drown him in them, With every kiss that you press upon his pretty skin, you shower him with praise. “Thank you, thank you, thank you!” 

Steve laughs and tries to move his face away, but really he leans into the onslaught of love. His cheeks burn from smiling so hard and from the heat you always make him feel. He grabs your waist and enjoys the skin he holds. “You like it?”

“I love it, Steve!” 

“Does this make up for the whole Russian fiasco?” He asks, only joking a little bit. He still feels awful for dragging you into everything, but with time he’s learning to forgive himself. Before he overthinks it, Steve adds, “Am I now the best boyfriend in the world?”

His words make you blush, and you don’t think you’ll ever get used to Steve being yours. You’ve waited so long to be his, to hold him and kiss him like you do now. You cherish the feeling, the sensation of knowing a boy loves you the way that Steve does. “You’ve definitely redeemed yourself for getting me trapped in a Russian lair on my birthday. And you’re definitely the best boyfriend in the world.”

Steve, despite being underneath you, does a victory dance and whoops into the night. He’s elated, his face shines when you look down at him, and you’ve never been so in love before. You once thought you knew what love was, what the burn of it could feel like. But now, with Steve lying beneath you as his arms keep you from falling, you know that love is airless, light, cool to the touch and warm on the skin. Love isn’t supposed to hurt, it’s supposed to feel like coming home after a long day of being out in the cold. 

After Steve helps you put on the charm bracelet, you lay together in the meadow. The lake’s waves can be heard in the distance. Crickets chirp their greeting, the stars wink hello above you. Their noises serve as a lullaby to you, soothing you to an almost sleep-like state. You nestle your head into the crook of Steve’s neck and let out a sleepy exhale. 

Feeling this, Steve strokes the back of your hair. “You fallin’ asleep on me, Henderson?”

“I’m resting my eyes.” 

“Very convincing,” he chuckles, tightening his embrace to try and stave off the cold that creeps in. He lets out his own tired sigh, your weight upon him has always put him at ease. He inhales, smells your perfume, and he can’t believe that he’s here right now with you. After everything he’s been through, he can’t believe that somehow he’s come out of it with you next to him. Last year he thought he had lost you forever. This year he can see forever with you. “I think I like this July a whole lot better than the last one.”

It’s meant to be a joke, a gentle tease. More of a reflection of how far the two of you have come in such a short amount of time, but still Steve’s words remind you of something. You’ve never told him the real reason why you left last summer. Why you ran away from him. 

“I was scared, last summer.” 

Steve tilts his head at you. “Scared of what?”

“I was scared of falling in love with you,” the confession lifts from your chest. It hangs over you both, the weight of it tangible. Steve’s eyes soften, he lets out a soft oh, and you duck your head shyly. “Last July, you were… Everything. You were everything to me, and it terrified me. I was still figuring my feelings out for Jonathan back then, you had Nancy, but you were so lovely and I just–I couldn’t do it. It wouldn’t have been fair, not to anyone, but I’m sorry.”

“Y/N…” Steve hadn’t known. All this time, he thought he had done something wrong. But really you had been trying to protect yourself, protect him, and he understands now why you had to leave him for a while. He sees the distress on your face and he shushes you, kisses your forehead. “Don’t apologize, okay? I honestly would’ve run away too, if I were you. I’m just… You came back to me, in the end. That’s all I care about.”

He’s too good for you. “I still hurt you.”

“You’re human,” Steve brushes more hair out of your face. “We all make mistakes. You ditched me for a few months and I almost got you killed by crazy Russians. I think we’re pretty even now.”

Despite the guilt in your throat, Steve manages to draw a smile from you. It’s what he’s always done best. Even on the day Will had gone missing, he had been the one to ease the loss by pretending not to have known your name. He had made you laugh when you thought you could never laugh again. Steve would do anything to get you to smile, and you cannot imagine where you’d be without him. “We always even our debts, huh?”

“It’s tradition at this point.”

And you laugh, full-bellied and loud and recklessly. It echoes into the night, Steve’s reverberates into your ears, and you’re happy. 

– 

A month passes, and in the mid-August heat, Jonathan knocks on your window late one night. 

His knuckles rap against the glass and it’s a sound reminiscent of before, when you were little kids who didn’t know how yet to hurt each other. You crawl out of your bed, curious, though happy nonetheless to let him in. 

You go to open your curtain, ready to tell the boy all about what Dustin had done today, unaware that when you open the curtain, everything will change. 

Jonathan is crying. 

“Bee, oh my God.” You quickly open the window and he manages to crawl through, though sobs wrack his body. He’s shaking, and for a terrifying moment you think that something has happened to Will. “Is everything okay?”

He stands before you, chest heaving and eyes red, and with two words your world comes crashing down. “We’re moving.”

Time stands still. You’re seventeen and your childhood is coming to a close.

Somehow you’re holding onto Jonathan as he explains everything through his tears. He’s moving in early September, going all the way to California. He and his family are leaving Hawkins, leaving you. 

Your legs give out, or maybe it’s Jonathan’s, but you hold each other on the floor, intertwined, mourning the loss of growing up together. Your tears mix with his, his breathing becomes yours. The two of you cling onto each other, scared that one day soon you’ll never be able to do this again. 

“We need to–” Your breathing is shaky, your eyes sting. You feel a desperate franticness claw out of you, you grasp at what little sanity you have left. “We need to promise each other that–that we’ll see each other every day before you leave, in some capacity. It–it doesn’t matter how but–”

“I’ve already talked to Nancy about it, bug.” Jonathan wipes your tears, lets his own fall freely. He knew you’d say this, and he loves you all the more for it. “It’s been agreed.”

You nod, relieved. It isn’t much, it still doesn’t change the fact that Jonathan will leave you in the end, but at least you’ll make every last second with him count. You’ll move into the Byers home if you have to, they’re your family. He’s your person. He’s embedded into your skin, he’s nestled between your bones. 

Last year you and Jonathan promised you would never let go of each other. 

The year prior to that you promised each other that nothing would change between you two. 

Now, holding onto each other as the world you’ve been building together for five years comes crumbling down, you have to believe that the promises will be enough.

–

Steve and Robin rope you into helping them find a new job.

You innocently pointed out that Family Video was hiring, figuring it was an easy enough place to work at, and suddenly the two of them had shoved you into Steve’s car with resumes in their hands. Honestly, you should’ve seen it coming. 

“You put your mom down as a reference?” Robin questions Steve as you all get out of the car. She had agreed to proofread it after you politely declined, stating that if you proofread anything Steve wrote, it might ruin your relationship. 

“Yeah, why not?” Steve slams his door, straightens his shirt, and grabs your hand as you walk inside. “She’s like, super well respected.”

You share a look with Robin. “Rich kids,” you both groan at the same time. As much as you love Steve, you’ll neve quite get over how well connected he is. It’s bizarre and slightly terrifying how much the Harrington name can get you in this town.

“Whatever, call me a rich kid, but it’s my car you guys get free rides in.”

Robin rolls her eyes. “You’re such a dingus.”

“I didn’t ask to be here,” you remind Steve, though you thank him when he holds the store’s door open for you and Robin. “I think this could count as kidnapping.”

Robin bumps her hips against yours. “Not technically. Besides, I thought we agreed to leave our kidnapping days behind us after Erica?”

You shove the teen and follow her into the store. You look around at all the movies, slightly impressed. You’ve never really visited Family Video before, only really stopping by if you were picking up Dustin from the arcade next door. The store is nice, albeit small, but you can see Steve and Robin enjoying themselves. There’s good music, few customers, and the uniformed vest is less mortifying than Scoop’s small shorts and sailor hats. “It’s not so bad in here.”

“Why thank you, pretty lady.” A greasy looking man at the register smiles at you, leaning over it in a very unappealing manner. His name tag informs you that his name is Keith.

Steve immediately steps in front of you and stares the guy down. “She doesn’t need you thanking her, buddy.”

You can tell that he wants to say more, but you see the “general manager” on Keith’s name tag and quickly try to deescalate the situation. If your idiot boyfriend wants the job, he can’t piss off the guy hiring. “Steve, why don’t we take a look around while Robin does all the talking?”

“What–” He doesn’t have a chance to argue, you’re already pulling him down a random aisle, throwing a quick “good luck!” to Robin as you leave. 

She talks with Keith, and it seems to be going well. She shows him their resumes, smiles at him kindly. before she shouts across the store to Steve. “Dingus, what are your three favorite movies?”

Steve nearly drops the movie he had been looking at. “Uh, Animal House?” You can practically hear Robin’s disappointed sigh from where you stand, and Keith looks unimpressed. Panicked, Steve whispers to you, “What are my favorite movies?”

“I don’t know!” You hiss, frantically trying to get this poor man a job. “Just, name two other movies. Animal House can’t be too bad, right?”

“Star Wars,” Steve manages to get out, now walking back to the register. You stand next to him, looking nervously at Robin, who makes a pained noise at his responses. 

The manager stares blankly at him. “A New Hope?”

“A new what now?”

You drop your head into your hands and sigh. He’s hopeless. Already knowing it’s a lost cause, you mumble to him, “It’s a Star Wars movie, Steve.”

He snaps his fingers. “Right! Yeah, it’s the one with the teddy bears, isn’t it?” Steve makes what you think is supposed to be an Ewok sound, which only makes you sigh again. Sensing he’s fucked up, Steve tries to backtrack. “No? Uh… Oh! The one that just came out, the movie. The one with DeLorean and Alex P. Keaton and he’s trying to bang his mom.”

“Oh, dear.” It’s a trainwreck, one you can’t look away from, and Robin can only shake her head at you. “Steve?”

“Yeah?” 

“Stop talking.”

“Uh, yeah.” Steve clears his throat, he knows he’s rambling. Had he known he would have a goddamn pop quiz about movies, he wouldn’t have dragged you here for the interview. “Those are my top three. Classics.”

Keith looks between you, Steve, and Robin. He points to Robin first, “You start Monday.” He points to Steve, “You start never.” And then he points to you, “You can start whenever.”

“Okay, I get why you’re telling me no,” Steve waves a hand in front of you, “but she didn’t even apply!” 

You’re also confused by how this day is turning out, and you look at Robin, wide eyed and pleading. She’s good with people, Keith seems to like her. When she sees you silently begging her to fix this, Robin sighs and steps in front of Steve. “Will you just, um… Will you guys give us a minute?” 

“Why?” Steve doesn’t move, and you want to throw a shoe at him. 

“Let’s go, pretty boy.” You grab the back of his shirt and yank him back to the aisle of movies. He doesn’t fight you, he simply accepts his fate and allows you to drag him away. Before turning the corner, you nod at Keith. “Thanks for the job offer, but you should really give it to the guy I’m currently dragging.”

Robin snickers at Steve’s offended huff as the two of you leave, before she starts trying to convince the manager to let Steve work there. From where you stand, it seems like a heated discussion. You try to lean closer, nosey, and while you’re distracted, Steve runs into a life-sized cardboard cutout of Phoebe Cates wearing a red bikini. 

He fights with it, tries desperately not to let it fall, all while his resume hangs from his mouth. “Shit! Oh, Fast Times! Ever heard of it? Top three for me, Keith.” Robin laughs and Steve turns the cardboard cutout to you, wiggling his eyebrows. “Own any red bikinis?”

You flick his forehead, though you laugh as well. “In your dreams.”

“I can sleep right now and find out–”

“I will flick you again.”

“A kiss is preferred, but whatever.”

– 

When the Byers move, you spend the entire day fighting back tears as you help them pack. 

You spent the night in Jonathan’s room, both of you dreading the morning to come. Neither of you had slept, instead spending the entire night taking turns sharing your favorite memories together. The day you met. The time a dog chased you. When Jonathan mistook your sweater for his and wore it to school. Late night drives. Movie nights with your brothers. You relive it all that night. 

As the morning sunlight began to stream into Jonathan’s room, the warmth the memories brought started to fade away. Slowly, as the sun rose, you and Jonathan packed his room. You helped him organize his vinyls, sort through his mixtapes. When he isn’t looking, you steal a few t-shirts and flannels from his closet. He won’t notice they’re gone until he’s halfway to California. 

When it gets too much, seeing all of Jonathan’s life dwindling down to only a few boxes, you wander into the living room and help Joyce pack as well. She sees the tears in your eyes and gives you things to do, but eventually you can’t take it anymore. You go into Will’s room, and it’s the same. You cry, he cries with you, and it’s bittersweet. The rooms empty, the boxes grow.

El’s room is the hardest to pack, she has so few items to call her own, and you’re both silent as you move through the room together. 

With each box that you tape full of things you grew up with, you feel a piece of your childhood being packed away as well. The plates you used to eat off of, the books you used to bring from your job, the toys you passed down to Will. It’s all there, pieces of you frozen in time.

As you tape a box labeled “games” in Jonathan’s messy handwriting, you hear Max and Lucas singing in the living room. The sound makes you smile. It’s one of Max’s better days, she’s teasing Dustin for singing with Suzie, and she’s in a good mood. The rest of the party keeps her occupied. The kids all arrived as early as Joyce allowed them to, Nancy and Mike were the first to knock on the door. 

You place the box next to the others and walk towards Jonathan’s room. He’s leaning against its door frame with Nancy beside him, and you join them. You stare at the empty room, the one you’ve called your second home ever since you were twelve. It hurts, seeing it stripped of everything. 

All of Jonathan’s boxes are in the living room, filled with the things that make him who he is. There’s a drawer in your room of things Jonathan has left over the years, and you’re never giving them back. They’re all you have left of him. 

You and Jonathan take in his barren room, and you sigh against the door frame. “It’s so… empty.”

Nancy crosses her arms. “Is that everything?”

“I guess so,” Jonathan stuffs his hands in his pockets. His room feels cold somehow, its emptiness devoids it of the warmth it once had. He can still hear your laughs echoing in the floorboards, he can still smell your perfume that clings onto the walls. There’s scuff on the closet door from the time the two of you thought it’d be a good idea to play blind-folded baseball in the small room. 

Jonathan steps into his room, taking it all one last time. The sunlight from his window illuminates his silhouette, making him appear even smaller within the room. “Seventeen years of my life… packed up in one day.”

His voice is melancholic, his body is sad. You nudge Nancy, nod your head in Jonathan’s direction, urging her to go after him. She nods, understands that you’re telling her to say goodbye, giving them the space to do so. She smiles at you appreciatively.

You do it because they love each other, but selfishly a part of you leaves because you can’t say goodbye just yet. 

“Thank you,” she whispers, following after Jonathan. 

You find El as she’s leaving Joyce’s room. She’s holding a piece of paper, clutched closely to her chest. There are tears in her eyes, though you know better than to ask why. It’s a sad day for everyone, you’ll let her grieve on her own. However, that doesn’t stop you from pulling the girl into a fierce hug. 

“I’ll miss you so much, sweetheart.” You mumble, kissing the top of her head. “I don’t know who’s going to paint my nails now.”

El laughs through her tears and holds you tight. “I can ask Mike to.”

You kiss her head again, close your eyes, and pray to whoever is above that this girl will stay who she is forever. That she will never change. Her kindness is genuine, her joy is admirable. All her life she only knew cruelty, and yet she still came out of it so full of love. “I’d love to hear how that goes.”

“I will write you,” El promises, and you nod eagerly at her. She pulls you in for one last hug before finally releasing you to go see Joyce. 

The woman greets you with a tired smile when you walk into her room. She’s kneeling on the floor, folding clothes. They’re baggier than what she normally wears, darker, and you finally realize that they’re Hopper’s. 

A lump forms in your throat. She shouldn’t be doing this alone, packing away the remnants of his life. “Here, let me help.”

Joyce accepts, and together you sit in comfortable silence as you go through the clothes Hopper left behind. They still smell like him, old cigarettes and whiskey. It’s a nostalgic scene, a part of you wishes you could keep one of his shirts. He had been dear to you, regardless of the constant bickering you faced with him. 

“I don’t blame you, you know.” Joyce speaks softly next to you, catching your attention. “At all.”

You look up at her, sucking in a breath. “I don’t… I don’t know what you mean, Mrs. Byers.”

“The guilt, honey.” She places a hand on your arm, gentle as she always is with you. “I know you blame yourself for what happened to Will, but you shouldn’t. You have to let go of it. I want…” Joyce pauses, looks into your eyes the way a mother does to her daughter. “I want you to promise me that you’ll live the life that you deserve, because you’ve spent half of your life making sure my boys lived the lives that they deserved. Can you do that for me?”

“I…” You’re crying, you don’t know what to say. For years you’ve carried the guilt of Will’s disappearance, and for even longer you’ve done everything you could to ensure that he was loved. That Jonathan was loved. Never once had it felt like a burden to you, but Joyce’s words undoes something in you. “I promise.”

Joyce pulls you into her arms and hugs you, tears in her own eyes. She strokes your hair, hugs you as she’s always done since you were a little girl. She echoes the final words that Hopper told you. “You’re the best of them.”

You’re not sure how long you cry in Joyce’s arms, but when she soothes you and wipes your tears away, she tells you to go find Will. They’re leaving soon, he’ll want to see you, and you wish the woman one final goodbye before going to find her son. 

Will ends up being in the hallway, you find him just after he’s said goodbye to Mike. You note the longing in his eyes, the uncertainty in his posture as his friend leaves. There’s a wistful look on his face, one that you once had on your own when Jonathan was around. Even if Will may not know yet, you do. 

“Hey, little bee.”

He turns around, the softness in his eyes when he sees you makes you homesick. “Y/N!”

Will buries his face in your chest, and you hug him just as tightly back. He’s grown so much since you first met him. He’s no longer the shy little boy who had been afraid of his own shadow, and you can’t believe you won’t get to finish watching him grow up. “I swear, you’re going to be taller than me next time I see you. Won’t be able to call you little bee anymore.”

“I’ll always be your little bee,” Will squeezes you tighter, afraid to let go of you. 

“Good,” you ruffle his hair, making him to laugh. “I’ll miss you, but I’m sure you already know that.”

“I’ll miss you, too.” Will’s voice is wet, more tears come. He pulls away from you, he looks as if he wants to say something, but he stops himself. As if he’s afraid of something.

You frown. “Hey, what is it?”

“I’m scared,” The words rush from his mouth. “What if… What if I don’t make any friends?” He lowers his voice, looks around nervously, before trusting to say the words out loud to you. “I–I’m different, Y/N.”

Will’s fear hurts you to see, you wish you could do more, promise him that it will all be okay, but you can’t. Instead, all you can do is kiss his cheek and hope he can feel all the love you have for him within it. All you can do is remind him that you will love him through it all. “You’re the bravest kid I know. I have no doubt that you’ll be fine. I mean, you’ll have Jonathan and El with you, but if you ever need me, I’m just a phone call away. I love you, and that will never change.”

You stroke the boy’s cheek with your finger, and he leans into the gentle touch. “I’m rooting for you, always.”

Will squeezes you tight when he hugs you for the last time. He thanks you, his body relaxes into yours, and you know that in the end he’ll be okay. He’s a brilliant kid, he’s been through more than anyone else his age ever has. He’s resilient, his kindness is his strength, you just hope that he can recognize that himself one day. 

As you pull away from the hug, Will’s eyes catch on someone, you turn around. It’s Jonathan, standing by the front door, waiting for you. 

It’s time to say goodbye. 

Taking a deep breath, you walk towards him, and Jonathan takes your hand and guides you to the porch outside. Everyone else is still inside, packing. You sit side by side in silence, absorbing the final remaining moments alone with each other. Saying goodbye to your childhood best friend leaves a bitter taste in your mouth. 

A ladybug crawls on a leaf next to you, a bee flies past you and lands on a sunflower nearby, and a bird chirps in the blue sky above. You rest your head on Jonathan’s shoulder, he presses a kiss to your temple. Your fingers interlock and the cool September air surrounds you.

“I made you something,” Jonathan breathes out, clears his throat. He reaches into his back pocket and pulls out a mixtape, its front covered with a piece of paper listing all the songs on it. “I, uh, used the money I won from the betting pool to make it. Dustin was pretty annoyed with me for winning.”

You snort at the image of your brother berating your friend for winning a betting pool about how long it’d take Steve to ask you out. Taking the mixtape from Jonathan, you read the songs. There’s eight songs on it, the first one being a Beatles song from your childhood; you don’t know how Jonathan knew that. Though most of them are familiar, the writing on the paper is old, faded with age. “How long have you been making this, bee?”

Jonathan looks away from you and swallows. “A while, I guess. Listen to it after I leave, okay? That way, if you hate it, I’ll never have to know.” His demeanor is odd, there’s something he’s not telling you, but it’s your last day with him. You leave it alone for now, not wanting to ruin it. 

“You’re not allowed to find a new best friend.” You tell him instead, the silence becoming too much to bear. It’s a joke, though truthfully you don’t want Jonathan to find another best friend. He’s supposed to be yours, only yours, and you’re supposed to be his. 

“I wouldn’t dream of it.” Jonathan lets out a soft laugh, and you’re going to miss feeling the way his body moves as he does so. He sucks in a breath, releases it slowly, and shakes his head. “I mean, we were kids together, bug.”

You start to cry, and he does as well. You’ve never had to say goodbye to each other before. Not like this. The two of you sit on the porch of Jonathan’s childhood home and cry. You cry into his neck, he buries his face into your hair, and it’s all so unfair. 

Jonathan touches his forehead to yours. You look into his eyes and know that your childhood will always live within him, and his within you. Jonathan brings his finger up to your bee necklace, his ladybug ring knocks against the pendant. The jewelry glistens in the sunlight. 

“Bee, we were more than just kids together.”

And it’s true. You were everything together. Now, you have to figure out how to be everything while apart. 

– 

The last of the boxes are placed in the moving van. Everyone is crying, you’re all gathered around one another, hugging and saying goodbye. 

You hold El tight and whisper good luck to her. You remind Will that everything will be okay, knowing how scared he’s been of high school and remorseful that he has to do it all alone. The kids all cry as they share the final hugs, Jonathan and Nancy cry as they hold one another. Everyone says goodbye, and you watch them with tears in your eyes. You turn to Joyce to kiss her cheek, but she grabs your arm instead. 

“Remember what you promised me, okay?” She catches your eye, makes sure you hear what she’s telling you. “Live the life that you deserve.”

“I will,” you exhale, and she seems content with that. Joyce hugs you, kisses your cheek, and you tell her to drive safe as she gets into the van. 

Jonathan stands by his car, waiting for you, and you pull the boy into your arms. He crashes against you, clutches you to his chest, and you breathe him in one final time. “I’ll always love you the most, bee.”

“And I’ll always love you the most, bug.” 

Joyce drives away first, El in the van with her, before Jonathan and Will follow. The car pulls out of its driveway one final time, and you hold Nancy’s hand as you both cry. Slowly, their cars fade into the distance, and one by one the kids hop on their bikes and pedal away. No one wants to stay, the empty house feels too permanent, solemn. Eventually Nancy gets into her own car, wishing you a quiet goodbye, until it’s just you and your brother standing in front of the house. 

Dustin stays beside you, as he always does, and you take a deep breath. Nothing will ever be the same again. 

You take one last look at the Byers home, the house you grew up in and discovered pure love and joy and naivety in, and inhale the final scent of your childhood. Dandelions are in bloom, its yellow surrounds the home, soon they will wilt and its seeds will litter the sky

Joyce’s words ring in your head.

It’s time to live the life that you deserve. You’re on your own now, though you know that really you aren’t. Dustin is next to you, Steve and Robin are waiting at your house with movies stolen from work because they knew how hard today would be. Your mother has your favorite cookies ready and waiting for you. Mike and the others have already planned their first letter to Will. 

The charm bracelet from the party and Steve is cool against your wrist. 

You’re no longer the scared, angry twelve year old you had been when you first moved to Hawkins. You’re loved, you have so many incredible people in your life who now get to watch you grow up into someone new. 

Slowly, you exhale your childhood, with a single promise of keeping it within you forever. To live the life that Joyce has told you that you deserve.

And you believe her. 

[END OF SEASON THREE]

-

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[thewidowsledger]

Looking Out For Three

© thewidowsledger 2024 - DO NOT REPUBLISH AND PLAGIARISE

Pairing: Avenger Natasha Romanoff x Agent Female Reader

Word count: 5.6k

Tags | Warnings: +18, Natasha has a penis (no smut though yet), pregnant reader, kinda gruesome details of organ taking/trafficking, self-destruction if you squint, angst, bad writing

Author's Note: This is a scheduled post; I just recently lost my cousin so I may not be able to be active here for some time but I’ll for sure check in once in a while. Happy reading! I hope you're all having a good time.

MINI SERIES: Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4

⧗

Natasha's eyes fell upon the woman's lower abdomen. Her stomach is slashed open, and the crimson depths reveal that something has been taken from within…

A baby, she could tell that it was a baby as the skin on the stomach of the woman was slightly stretched out and the umbilical cord splayed out on the bed.

A life that had just begun, now cruelly snuffed out.

Two lives cruelly snuffed out.

⧗

After Natasha had taken care of Strange, her focus immediately returned to you. Seeing your unconscious form, her heart broke as she frantically searched for something to cover your exposed stomach.

She found a blanket and tore it into a small piece and she gently draped it over your stomach, her hands trembling, staring at your wounded stomach. Tears streamed down her face as she looked at you, whispering words of apology.

“I'm sorry,” she murmured, her voice choking with emotion. “I should've listened to you last night, if I knew you wouldn’t…you wouldn't…” Natasha gasped for air but still trying to hold back a sob, she finally looked at your face. She held your hands and pecked a kiss all over it.

“I could've lost you, detka. I can't let that happen…I’ll never forgive myself if I lost you.”

“Everything's going to be okay. You, me, and our baby,” she smiled at the thought, wiping some tears on her face, “We're going to be a happy family.”

Tony landed with a heavy thud, the suit's thrusters kicking up a cloud of dirt and debris. Bucky quickly joined him, eyes wide as he took in the scene before him. A doctor's body lying on the floor, unrecognizable as its face has a lot of holes in it.

He started to move towards you and Natasha, but Natasha's steely glare made him stop in his tracks.

Yelena tried to approach her sister and offered her help but Natasha ignored her as well. The expression on her face was cold and distant, her only priority was getting you to safety. She carried you in a bridal style and the rest of the team watched, unsure of what to do, as Natasha carried out of the room and started heading onto the Quinjet.

⧗

Steve and Tony spoke quietly to each other, trying to make sense of the situation. Tony couldn't provide any concrete answers, but he did share one unsettling detail. He projected a hologram display, showing the scans of the doctor's body. The bullet holes were highlighted in red, showing exactly where each of the 21 shots had landed. The lone bullet in the shoulder was also indicated by a separate red mark.

“Here,” he said, pointing to the tiny screen. “21 bullets to the head and one in the shoulder.”

The team winced as they took in the information, their gazes shifting to Natasha, who was still holding your hand in her lips.

Tony shrugged, holding his hands up in a defensive gesture. “Hey, I'm not judging,” he said. “I've done my fair share of blasting people in the head too.”

The team started to look your way, their gazes shifting towards your unconscious body and Natasha, but then they quickly averted them when they saw Natasha glaring at them. They scrambled to look busy, trying to avoid her disapproving glare.

In an attempt to look as if they weren't just staring at your unconscious body and Natasha sitting close to you, Sam awkwardly broke the silence by pointing at the glassed windows of the Quinjet, “Wow, a bird.”

His words hung awkwardly in the air, only to be met with Natasha's continued glare and the team's collective facepalm at his failed attempt to diffuse the tension.

⧗

When the Quinjet landed on the compound, the team immediately got up and was welcomed by Clint as the door of the Quinjet slowly opened. He already knew what happened and he was on leave since Laura just gave birth to their third child.

He walked towards the bed where your unconscious body was laying.

“Hey Nat.”

She didn't answer, but as soon as Clint touched the bed to help her get you out the Quinjet Natasha swiftly pulled a gun and pointed it towards his head.

“Nat…” Clint called, the team became frozen in place at the sight.

“Don't touch her.” She said her voice was hoarse and shaky.

“Yes, I'm not touching her. I am touching the bed,” he offered a logical argument, his tone gentle as he tried to diffuse the situation. He immediately but slowly moved his hands away from the stretcher you were in and put them in the air where Natasha could see.

The room's tension rose even more as the team started calling her out.

“Romanoff.” Tony called in a warning.

“Natasha.” It sounded more authoritative coming from Maria.

“Natasha, calm down.” Steve’s voice joined the fray, calling out gently.

“Back down! No one gets to touch her!” Natasha furiously exclaimed.

Natasha's grip on her gun tightened further, she pushed the tip of the gun on the back of Clint’s head, her eyes beginning to well up with tears.

A ripple of tension ran through the group everytime Natasha spoke. The atmosphere in the room immediately grew heavy, and the team members instinctively also tightened their grip on their own weapons.

“No one’s gonna hurt Y/N, Nat…please.” Clint reassured pleadingly.

“Shut the fuck up!”

And with that a loud thud echoed through the Quinjet with Natasha’s unconscious body laying on the floor. Yelena, her sister sulking at the corner with her hands clenched into fists pointed towards where Natasha was and her widow's bite smoking.

“Izvini, sestra.” (Sorry, sister)

⧗

Dr. Cho launched into her report, clearly concerned about the oversight. Wanda, Steve and Bruce were in the medbay with you.

“So no one noticed the bleeding on her head?” the doctor repeated incredulously. The room fell silent for a moment, and then Steve spoke up.

“Natasha wouldn’t let us near her.”

“Yeah,” Bruce confirmed, “She came before the team, I prepped the stretcher and she immediately snatched it away from me, not even letting me help her.”

Wanda clenched her jaw in frustration, her eyes narrowing as she listened to the two about what happened. She couldn't help but feel annoyed and frustrated with Natasha's behavior, which had led to your current situation. If Natasha had just been a little more cooperative and let the team help her help you, you would've been fine and awake by now. Instead, you were lying unconscious in the medbay, not sure when you're going to wake up.

“And no one knew that she's pregnant?” Dr. Cho added that made the three wince in guilt, how could they not notice? You live in the same place for god's sake, in the same compound.

Wanda was particularly hard on herself, her face filled with guilt. She’s your best friend and you two had spent so much time together, she felt ashamed that she didn’t notice anything different about you, especially since the two of you are inseparable when Natasha was away for 2 months.

You always had a morning walk together, gets to shop together, you two always watched sitcoms together and trained together. Wanda could only remember a moment when she had accidentally hit you in the abdomen during combat training, and you had collapsed on the floor laughing at the witch. You were for sure pregnant at that time and Wanda could only wince at the memory hoping that hit didn't affect her growing niece at your stomach

And the fact that she covered up for you made her want to let the ground eat her, what if she just let JARVIS figure out that it was you who was pregnant? This wouldn't have happened to you…

“Don't worry, Y/N is stable" the doctor said reassuringly, “and she should wake up at any moment. However, we can't say for sure when that will be.”

She looked around the room, meeting the worried gazes of the team members who's nodding at her words.

“I’ll get her an ultrasound later which should give us more accurate information. For now let's give her body a break. And I need Romanoff here as soon as possible.”

⧗

Natasha tossed and turned in her sleep, distress written all over her face. She rubbed her eyes and slowly sat at the bed, she took the place in where she was; it was your shared bedroom. She can feel her brain pounding inside her skull but still, she immediately got off the bed as the first thing she thought was you, she found herself frantically walking down a dimly lit hallway, approaching a closed door at its end.

As she neared the closed door, she noticed a soft glow and a bed with a woman laid out on it, bathed in a dim light. The sight invoked a pang of uneasiness in her, but she couldn’t shake the compulsion to get closer.

Natasha continued walking, drawn to the woman on the bed like a magnet. Each step seemed to echo loudly in the silent hallway, but she pushed onward until she was near the bed.

With a heavy heart, Natasha makes her way to the bedside of a woman who lies there lifeless and unseeing. Her eyes, hollow sockets staring into nothingness…

Her eyes scanned the woman's body, taking in every detail of the horror.

The ribcage splayed open like a grotesque butterfly…

The heart and lungs are missing, leaving a gaping hole…

Natasha's eyes fell upon the woman's lower abdomen. Her stomach is slashed open, and the crimson depths reveal that something has been taken from within…

A baby, she could tell that it was a baby as the skin on the stomach of the woman was slightly stretched out and the umbilical cord splayed out on the bed.

A life that had just begun, now cruelly snuffed out.

Two lives cruelly snuffed out.

The redhead's gaze lingers on the woman's lifeless hand, before her eyes widen in horror. She recognizes that hand, and with a sinking feeling in the pit of her stomach, she starts to panic.

Her heart pounds in her chest as she spots a manila folder beside the bed, within her grasp. With trembling hands, she snatches it up and flips it open, gasping as she scrolls through the contents.

“Y/N Y/L/N”

Natasha gasped in horror, she flips open the file, page after page of personal information and photographs spill out of the folder, painting a detailed portrait of your face and body. Each page she turns reveals more information about you, and with each turn, her heart drops further into the pit of her stomach.

This body that is lying in front of her with no eyes, ribcage splayed open, heart and lungs missing, stomach slashed open and a baby taken out of it…

Is your body and your child. Her child.

“No…”

“No, no, no,” she gasped, “Fuck no!” She threw the folder away and your body was already gone in the bed.

She immediately shot her head around when she heard a faint cry of a baby, but as soon as she turned she saw a shadow of a woman carrying a baby.

She knows it was you only by its figure…

Your voice reached her ears, filled with desperation as you called out to her.

“Natty, love? Can we talk?”

“Help us, Natasha.”

“Natasha, please talk to me.”

“Natasha!”

“Natasha! Wake up!”

“No!”

Natasha jolted awake, the loud call of her name immediately took her away from the depths of her dream. She panicked as she found herself surrounded by the darkness of your shared bedroom. Clint was holding her and she immediately ripped herself away from him, her movements sharp and agitated.

“Hey,” Clint's voice was gentle, a calming presence amidst the chaos of her thoughts. “Natasha, breathe,” he urged, his hand reaching out to rest on her shoulder but Natasha flinched, “You’re okay, everything is fine.”

“Where's Y/N?” Natasha demanded, her voice husky and rushed as she moved away from the bed ignoring her best friend's concern for her because clearly, nothing is fine.

“Nat,” Clint circled the bed to get to Natasha and she immediately got into defensive form.

“Are we really gonna do this again?” He asked, his hands raised in a placating gesture. And that's when the memories came rushing back, flooding her senses with a torrent of emotions. She remembered the weight of her gun in her hand, the cold metal pressed against the back of her best friend's head and the team trying to calm her down. The last thing she saw was your stretcher above her.

Natasha's breath hitched as the memories overwhelmed her, and she felt her legs buckle under her. She reached out to grab onto the bed, her legs weak and unsteady. She had come dangerously close to losing it.

“I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’m sorry…”

Natasha's voice shook as she apologized over and over again, her eyes filling with tears as she felt the weight of her emotions bearing down on her. She felt Clint's arms wrap around her once more, pulling her into a gentle embrace.

He tightened his grip on her, feeling the tremor that ran through her body. “Shh,” he whispered, rubbing small circles on her back with his hand. “It’s okay. You're fine, Nat. You're safe here.”

Natasha nodded, taking a deep shuddering breath as she tried to collect herself. “Where's Y/N?” she asked, her voice barely above a whisper. “Clint, where is she? I need to see her.” Her eyes pleaded with him, searching for answers.

Clint could see the desperation in her gaze and knew exactly what she needed, you.

“You'll see her alright?” he said, a small smile playing on his lips. “But right now I need you to rest.”

Natasha was about to refuse, she needs to see you now, but she knew better than to fight with her best friend. She needed to rest, to get her strength back before she gets to see you again. She nodded weakly, allowing Clint to help her up.

“You shower, get some fresh clothes and I’ll have some food over. After that you can see your girlfriend.”

⧗

Natasha worked diligently, her eyes alight with a soft and caring glow as she arranged everything on the bed. She had brought out all of your favorite blankets, each one softer and more comforting than the last. Her eyes landed on the strawberry plush, and her lips curved into a soft smile. She remembered how you had squealed with delight when she had won it for you at the basketball booth at a carnival.

“Hey Nat, you ready to go? Dr. Cho is waiting for you.”

Natasha startled at the sudden interruption, blinking as she tried to shake off her thoughts. “Oh, uh, yeah,” she said, her voice a little softer than usual. “Did she ask me to bring something? Does she want anything? Food? How's Y/N?” Natasha continuously asked as she put the blanket and pillow on a bag.

But Clint only muttered, “C’mon,” not wanting to break the news himself to her best friend. He’ll let Dr. Cho do the job on answering that.

Natasha felt her heart beat faster with each step as she and Clint made their way to the Medbay. She could feel her hands trembling, but she clenched them into fists at her sides, trying to keep her composure. As soon as she entered the medbay, she saw Dr. Cho and Wanda by your bedside. Her eyes immediately went to your unconscious form on the bed, her worry deepening. Why aren't you awake yet?

She felt Wanda's intense gaze on her and Natasha immediately put her face away from her direction, gripping the bag she brought. She couldn't shake off the feeling of discomfort of the witch’s presence.

Dr. Cho, as if reading the room, asked Wanda and Clint to give them privacy.

When the two left the medbay, Natasha finally allowed herself to breathe. The witch's intense gaze had made her uneasy, adding to her worry about you. She let out a long sigh of relief as the doors closed behind them, leaving her alone with Dr. Cho.

“How are you feeling, Romanoff?” Dr. Cho started.

“I’m fine. How is she?” Natasha immediately asked as she put the bag down at the side table of your bed.

Natasha's eyes lingered on your unconscious form, she carefully held your hands and a sudden flash of her dream returned to her mind.

Your body lying in front of her with no eyes, ribcage splayed open, heart and lungs missing, stomach slashed open and your baby taken out of it…

She immediately shut her eyes to remove the thought in her head, the urgency she felt in the dream now mirrored in the real world.

“Romanoff.”

Natasha's gaze snapped to Dr. Cho at the sound of her name, quickly trying to mask her panic with a cool, calm expression. She took a deep breath, her voice coming out steady and collected, “Yeah? H-how is she?” she asked once again.

“Y/N suffered a blow to the head, causing significant trauma. There's no way to predict when she'll regain consciousness...”

Natasha's brow pinched at Dr. Cho's words. The idea of you being unconscious, possibly for an extended period of time, weighed heavily on her. She searched for more information, “Are you saying she's in a coma?”

“A light one.” The doctor pointed out, correcting her.

“And the baby?”

Natasha's gaze shifted from your face and to the printed ultrasound image Dr. Cho handed her, she shakily reached out to get it and her other hand never leaving yours. Her features softened as she took in the small, blurred figure on the paper. “So that's our little one?” she murmurs, a touch of awe in her voice.

Dr. Cho nodded, smiling gently at Natasha's reaction. “Yes, that is your baby at 12 weeks. As you can see, the limbs are well-formed and the baby's major organs have started to develop…”

“Oh look at that! That's your baby Romanoff!”

“Romanoff, your baby is healthy and developing just like it should. All the organs, muscles, limbs and bones are in place.”

Natasha winced as Dr. Cho pointed out the tiny head, spine, and other features of the developing fetus to her, explaining that these details were visible at this stage of pregnancy. Natasha tries her best to listen attentively, but the memories are trying to get back in her head.

“Did you know she was pregnant?”

“You didn't know until now did you?”

“Oh, that's a shame.”

“You are a bad mother.”

“Romanoff, are you sure you're alright?” Dr. Cho asked, worry written all over her face as she noticed Natasha drifting off once again.

“Yeah,” she answered dismissively, “There's uhm uhh…a cut on her stomach—”

“It's all patched up now.” The doctor said reassuringly, not letting her finish.

“Can I uhm…can I have some time with Y/N alone?”

“Of course, whatever you need. I’ll leave you two now.” Dr. Cho tapped Natasha's shoulder for comfort as she retreated to the medbay.

Natasha swallowed thickly, her throat constricting as she finally, finally felt like she could breathe freely. It was just the two of you now and that's what she needed. The machines beeping in the background seemed to fade into the distance as Natasha's gaze locked onto your unconscious form.

She was acutely aware of the soft rise and fall of your chest as you slept, the gentle curve of your belly where your little bean settled.

“Detka, I need you to wake up now…” she said as she gently removed the blanket you had and replaced it with the ones she brought, which is your favorite one. She now pulled the strawberry plush and laid it beside your pillow.

“I need you to wake up so I can make it up to you.” Natasha gently brushed a strand of hair from your forehead.

A single tear slipped down her cheek as Natasha brought your hands to her lips, pressing a tender kiss before resting it gently on her cheek. She closed her eyes, taking in the warmth of your skin against hers before falling into slumber.

⧗

You slowly blinked your eyes open, your senses still groggy from whatever they put or injected in your body. Your left hand was wrapped around by a figure, holding it close as they slept sitting up right next to you on the bed.

Your right hand snatched the nasal cannula out of your nose and the IV lines that are connected to your forearm. Slowly, you pulled your left hand out of the tight hold of the figure sleeping beside your bed. You started to breathe hard, finding some support for you to stand up.

Natasha's eyes snapped open as she felt the bed movements and the warm hand she's holding is now out of her grasp.

“Baby? Hey…”

She felt alarmed hearing the machine beeping continuously and the oxygen out of you. You snatched everything that is connected to your body and now slowly moving away from the bed.

“Detka,” she called again, holding her hands out even though it's your back facing her.

But you didn't hear, there’s this loud thumping in your ears, you can feel as if someone is hammering your head, and the only thing you can see is a blur. Nothing is clear and you’re feeling numb.

You continued to move until your feet felt the cold tiled floor and that's when you lost consciousness for a second. You can only feel a warm body catching you, you locked eyes with the emerald ones before you feel your body taken out from her embrace.

⧗

Natasha paced back and forth outside the medbay, her mind racing as she waited for word about you. She was still reeling from the events that had led to this moment, and she couldn't shake the feeling of helplessness that had settled into her bones.

“You deserve it.” Wanda’s words cutting through the air like a knife. “You're the reason why she's there.”

“Whatever is happening to you right now, you deserve it.” She spat, Natasha now sat outside the medbay, her hands over her head as she faced the floor. “I am one blink away from invading your mind, to see what happened but I respect Y/N so much. You deserve everything that you feel right now, every guilt and shame. You deserve what's happening to you but my best friend doesn't deserve to be there!”

She could only bite her cheek, shutting her eyes as if she's not hearing the witch, but she could feel the heat of Wanda's words as they washed over her, stinging like a slap in the face.

Natasha and Wanda both turned their attention to Bruce as he stepped out of the medbay, the tension between them dissipating in an instant. Wanda took a deep breath, trying to calm herself down and Natasha immediately stood, her heart thumping on her chest wanting to hear about your condition.

“How is she?” The two redheads asked in unison, Wanda can only roll her eyes.

“She's awake now.”

Wanda didn't waste a second moving inside the medbay, walking past Natasha and Bruce.

“She's stable for now,” Dr. Cho informed Natasha who was left outside the medbay, “she just disassociated when she woke up earlier.”

Natasha nodded peeking over the doctor’s shoulder to get a sight of you but she can only see Wanda sitting beside your bed.

“Hey…how are you lyubov?” Wanda asked her fingers grazing yours.

“I feel weak,” you mumbled but gave the witch a soft smile, you managed to hold her hand that made Wanda sob. “Hey, I’m fine Wanda.”

She held your hand tightly and brought it to her cheek, “You should be, you really should be.” You hummed as you wiped the tears that streamed down to her face.

Natasha stood just outside the medbay entrance, her arms crossed over her chest as she watched you and Wanda interact. Your eyes flick towards her and you can read her lips muttering, “Hey,” to you.

“I want to rest for a bit.” You said, immediately avoiding Natasha and the witch noticed the tension between you and your girlfriend.

“Sure.” Wanda was about to stand to leave when you held your hands up, “Stay, Wanda. Please.”

Natasha could read the situation clearly, you didn't want her around. The realization hit her like a punch to the gut because all she wanted to do is to hold you and pepper you with kisses, take care of you. But she did notice what you want and it's not her, so she respectfully stepped back, retreating out of the medbay. The coldness in her chest had deepened into an ache, but she pushed it down as she always did.

For now, she’ll give you what you need but she will never stop trying and making it up to you.

⧗

Dr. Cho informed Natasha that you are now discharged and can leave the medbay anytime soon.

Right now, she's supposed to be sitting right next to you, apologizing or…begging for forgiveness, peppering you with kisses or cuddling you. But instead here she is walking alone to your shared room. Natasha had held back her tears as she walked towards the room, but the moment she stepped inside, the floodgates opened. She couldn't hold back any longer. She let out a choked sob and collapsed onto the floor, burying her face in her hands.

Suddenly, Natasha surged to her feet, fists clenched at her sides. She couldn't contain her anger and frustration to herself any longer. With a roar of rage, she began to pummel the walls of the room, punching it with all her strength.

Eventually, Natasha's frenzy subsided, and she steadied herself against the wall, forehead resting against its cool surface. Natasha took a deep breath, trying to calm herself. She closed her eyes and imagined herself in your embrace, feeling your arms wrapped around her, holding her down and keeping her grounded like you always do.

“You cannot be like this,” She whispered to herself. “You have a wife and a baby on the way to look up to. You cannot…you cannot be like this.” She repeated, as if trying to drill the words into her own brain.

Natasha slowly turned back, surveying the room with keen and puffy eyes. Without hesitation, she removed her jacket and top revealing her gray sports bra and started deep cleaning everything. Something that will occupy her for a while besides she doesn't want you to come back here with a messy and dirty room, though you always make sure that your shared bedroom is clean, both of you have tasks on what to do, on who's gonna do this or that, clean this or that. Actually it's you who gave her tasks, Natasha can be careless and a messy person at times but with you, it all changed.

Natasha started to take off the cover of the pillows and replaced them with fresh, clean ones from the closet. She then moved onto the bed sheets, pulling off the used ones.

After that Natasha moved to the bathroom, checking every corner, she pulled out the trash and some stuff scattered at the counter. When she opened the cabinet she was welcomed by a pregnancy test, not just one but three tests with two lines showing in each one.

Natasha picked the three, studying each one carefully before setting it back down again at the counter. She wondered if this was the thing you wanted to talk about before the mission. She clenched her jaw remembering how she treated you that night.

A call on the door pulled Natasha out of her thoughts. She retreated from the bathroom, taking a deep breath before opening it to reveal Clint standing on the other side.

“Hey, here's the flower you asked me to get.”

Natasha smiled as she took in the sight of the beautiful bouquet that Clint had brought for you. “I know you asked me to buy roses, the pink ones which is Y/N’s favorite but I saw these chrysanthemums and carnations. I bought this for Laura when she was pregnant with our Nathaniel. You should avoid-strong smelling flowers. Y/N’s sense of smell might be a little bit sensitive now.” Natasha listened intently as she had seen how Clint handled being a father of three. How he was able to protect her family while being an Avenger so might as well take her best friend’s every advice.

“You might wanna do some research. It's gonna be a lot but I know you two can do it.” She nodded solemnly. “Thanks, Clint.”

“Mood swings, Nat,” Clint chuckled as she warned Natasha, “It's gon’ be a hell of a ride.”

“Oh yeah it is, even though she wasn't pregnant yet it was a rollercoaster already.” She smirked remembering how she handled your mood swings during the course of your relationship.

“Oh Nat, now it's gonna be a whole new level.”

After a few more words of farewell, Natasha went back inside the room, and placed the flowers gently in a vase beside your shared bed. She filled the vase with water from the bathroom sink, letting it flow over each bloom as she arranged them.

Natasha settled on the couch after putting back the vase beside the bed. She put on some headphones as she lost herself to some music. An automatic vacuum hummed quietly in the background, gliding smoothly over the floor and picking up any debris.

Natasha indeed took Clint's advice, she was reading and researching about the changes that were happening to your body and what to expect during the course of the pregnancy. You're now in your 12th week and she read that during week 12 of pregnancy you’re wrapping up your first trimester and the odds of miscarriage are highest in the first trimester.

She took notes and made a mental list of things to expect.

“Your baby is only as big as a passion fruit but is growing and developing.” Natasha read to herself.

“Baby bump’s first appearance depending on the body type, food cravings, weird food cravings,” Natasha murmured, she continued, “Dizziness, mood swings, sore breast, heightened sense of smell,” She hummed, remembering her best friend's advice about sensitivity of your smell.

Natasha did a double-take as she read the last item on the list.

“Spike in sex drive?”

A knock on the door interrupted her researching and reading and she quickly put her headphones down, turning her attention towards the entrance.

She opened the door to see you standing there, a strawberry plush in your hand, and Bruce behind you carrying the bag of blankets she brought in the medbay. Her eyes widened slightly but she quickly composed herself, her expression softening as she took in your face, “Hey.”

You took in the sight of Natasha, your mind being in a haze. She is dressed in a gray sports bra and matching sweatpants, headphones clinging on her neck. Her arms were flexed like always and you could see the details of beads of sweat on her defined abs. Your breath hitched in your throat.

Natasha, noticing your gaze on her, quickly took the bag from Bruce. You walked past her already and went inside the bedroom.

“Dr. Cho will check in on her periodically.” Bruce informed the redhead.

“Thanks, Bruce.”

You sat at the bed slowly, noticing the new sheets of the bed and the flowers, the smell of it invading your nostrils. You caress the softness of the sheet while the strawberry plush sat on your thighs.

“Hey baby, how are you feeling?” Natasha asked as she closed the door. She put the bag down where you put your dirty laundry.

“Baby?” She called again, “You know you can't avoid me forever.”

“Yeah, like you did me the other night?” you replied with a dry tone.

A heavy silence fell between the two of you and Natasha bit her lower lip in contemplation. Without hesitation, she immediately removed the headphones from her neck and walked in your direction. She gently knelt in front of you, placing the plush beside you as she took both of your hands in hers. Her bright green eyes searched for yours.

“Baby,” she began, her voice gentle and soothing. “I'm sorry.” She paused, her thumbs rubbing soothing circles on the back of your hands. “Please, I was out of my mind that night,” her voice is becoming shaky this time. “It was the stupidest thing I ever did,” she continued, the regret evident in her expression. She swallowed hard, squeezing your hands gently. “Please, forgive me detka? I promise it won't happen again. I’ll take care of you, cook for you, buy you gifts, whatever you want baby, just—just forgive me.”

You actually stopped listening when she said “I’m sorry” all you could focus on was her arms untensing and tensing with each movement of her hands gently gripping your own. And the smell of the flowers were now gone as your girlfriend’s cologne, which was your favorite cologne of hers, started to envelop your senses. You don't know why you're being like this.

Natasha watched as you yawned, “I'm sleepy,” you slur.

“I uhh…alright baby,” She immediately let go of your hands and stood up, hesitating for a moment. She gently guides you as you lay down to your shared bed, putting the comforter all over your body and handing you the strawberry plush.

“Sleep tight detka, I’ll be here,” to her surprise, you hummed in response as you snuggled the strawberry plush close to you, a small sound that filled the air between the two of you and it made Natasha's heart jump. She took that as a good sign and she will for sure do anything to earn your forgiveness.

Next

[mallowsweetmiri]

babes PLEASE I BEG YOU write a part two for remus x potter!reader🥺🥺🥺

Remus Lupin x Potter! Reader (pt 2)

Part 1 • Part 3

Summary: James is pissed at Remus for keeping you a secret from him, but that’s not going to stop you two from seeing eachother

Warnings: cursing, smut

—————————————————————————

Remus stood up from the table as you walked towards the exit looking nervously at him.

“Not you,” James growled, pointing angrily at Remus as he got up from the table. You walked quickly with your head down, embarrassed that your brother was making such a scene. You were pretty sure you knew what this was about. Remus, of course. But how did James find out? He was fine one moment then flipping his shit the next. Guess you’d find out in about, hmm one second.

“What the fuck, Y/N?” James yelled the moment the two of you entered the hallway. Your cheeks were furiously flushed, but you crossed your arms and tried to stand your ground.

“What are you on about, James,” you spat back. James scoffed and laughed at the same time.

“Don’t play dumb with me. Wh- what- you and Remus?!” James practically screamed. You looked around nervously, he was being so dramatic. You sucked your lips in. So he did know.

“What gave you that idea?” You said, trying to keep your cool, but your nervousness had seeped into your voice. James’ face twisted into a look of pain and cringe.

“Your fucking bow, Y/N! We were just teasing Remus about this goddamn bookmark with a bow that we found on his bed- oh gods- you were in our room?!? Oh my gods, Y/N, I’m going to be sick,” James cried, he was losing his shit. Your cheeks were on fire now. You couldn’t believe you left your book there, how could you guys be so stupid?

“Look, James. I’m sorry I didn’t tell you. I just didn’t want you to freak out. Kind of like you’re doing right now,” you muttered, “but I was going to tell you. Please, James I really like him and-”

“No,” James asserting, shaking his head, “No, absolutely not. You are not going to be seeing Remus. Ever. Again.” James was pacing by now, you honestly hadn’t seen him this mad in years.

“James-”

“No! This is not up for discussion. I can’t even believe it! I can’t believe the fucking audacity Remus has, getting with my baby sister!” James laughed out loud again, incredulously. You rolled your eyes.

“James, I’m not five. I’m only a grade below you.”

“And you’re still my sister! You’re not allowed to see him anymore,” James shook his head, keeping his distance from you. Tears began to well up in your eyes. This wasn’t fair.

“James, I’m sorry,” you sobbed, hot tears flooding down your face, “I was going to tell you-” The door to the hall swung open. Remus stepped out, looking concerned when he saw you crying.

“You,” James growled, pointing his finger once again at Remus, “you lied to me! You’ve been lying to me this whole fucking time!”

“James, I-” Remus tried, but James wasn’t having either of your words.

“No, you fucking liar! How could you?” James sounded genuinely hurt, and it broke you heart to see Remus’ face as he took in James piercing words. “How could you look me in the eye knowing that you’ve secretly seeing my sister? How long has this even been going on for?”

“I- since the summer, but-” James’ knuckle cracked him in the face.

“James!” You yelled, more tears streaming down your face as you watched Remus’ stumble over.

“Don’t ever talk to her again, do you hear me?” James yelled before grabbing your elbow and dragging you back towards the dorms. You looked back over your shoulder at Remus who looked at you solemnly with trickles of blood on his face. It only made you cry harder. James dragged you, despite your tears and protests, all the way up to the common room.

“Go to your room, now.” James ordered, pointing up the girls staircase. Who did he think he was?!

“You can’t tell me what to do. You’re not my dad!” You yelled. People in the common room were staring now. You and James never fought.

“Y/N, I just can’t do this right now. Go to your room. We can talk tomorrow,” James sighed, rubbing his temples. Tears began to well again as you turned to stomp up the stairs. It hurt James to see you cry, but it hurt him even more to know that two of the people he loved the most had been sneaking around behind his back. He shook his head as he headed up to his own room to calm down.

That night, Remus laid in bed awake. James had shunned him all night, and Pete and Sirius kinda just shrugged and assured him he would calm down. Eventually, they said. Remus hated that this is how James found out. He had wanted to tell him together, albeit James probably still would’ve freaked out. Remus sighed, turning over on his pillow. He wanted to see you so desperately tonight, as he had told you earlier that day. And seeing you cry today only made him want to hold you that much more. He hated James for making you cry, but he knew deep down that it was his fault. He tried to regret having you, but he just couldn’t. You were the best thing that’s ever happened to him.

A tap on the window jolted Remus up. He opened his bed curtain to see an owl on the windowsill, holding a thin package tied in a little pink bow. Quietly, Remus opened the window and retrieved the package, signaling to the owl to wait there for a few minutes. Remus crept back into his bed, whispering lumos before pulling out the notecard attached to the package.

Remus,

I don’t care what James says. I already miss you, and I can’t bear to think about never seeing you again. We can talk to him tomorrow, I know he’ll come around. I hope your face is feeling okay. James is such an idiot for punching you. I wish I could kiss it better. Until we can see each other again, I’ll be thinking of you. I left you a little present to hopefully cheer you up.

- Y/N <3

Remus smiled to himself. To be honest, his face hurt like a bitch, but he deserved it. Gods, he just wanted to see you. Slowly, he untied the pink ribbon attached the the package. It was light and small. Remus wondered what on earth you had put in here. His blood rushed to his cheeks as his fingers wrapped around the lacy fabric, pulling out a pair of your panties.

“Fucking hell,” Remus muttered, almost groaning at the sight. Remus was fucked, there’s no way James was going to keep him from seeing you after this. Even if Remus wanted to stay away, how could he after you sent him your sexiest pair of panties? You knew they were his favorite too, a pink lacy thong with a little bow right above your cunt. Remus summoned his quill, turning your note over and hastily writing meet me in the common room. Remus got up as quietly as he could, giving the note to your owl before shuffling to his trunk. He grabbed the necessities- a blanket and the marauders map. He tiptoed out of the room, double checking to be sure that nobody had woken up. He snuck down to the common room, the ever burning fire lighting his way as he walked towards the couch. He was impatient, twiddling your panties in his hand as he waited. A few moments later, you were padding down the stairs, Remus’ sweatshirt hanging off your body. He’d forgotten that you had that one, and gods you looked so adorable in it. He stood up and race over to you, engulfing you in a hug with his blanket.

“Y/N,” he breathed, kissing your head. You sunk into his touch, almost whimpering. You’d been crying for hours, and all you wanted was to be held by Remus. You pulled back and gently touched his cheek where the cut was. He winced.

“I’m sorry,” you whispered. He let out a little laugh.

“It’s okay, my love,” he pulled out your thong and swung it in front of your face, “this made me feel better.”

“I’m glad,” you blushed with a small smile. You looked up at him through your eyelashes, hoping he could sense your want. It only made you want him that much more knowing you weren’t supposed to.

“Lets go,” Remus said, wrapping the blanket around you before pulling out a map.

“What’s that?” You whispered as the two of you moved out of the portrait hole.

“Uh, a map, Don’t worry about it, love” Remus said, checking the parchment before leading you down the hall. This wasn’t the first time the two of you had snuck out to the astronomy tower, but tonight felt even more risky than usual. You felt as though James was gonna jump out from around the corner and attack Remus. You were curious at this map Remus had, but he was hiding it from you and frankly, you didn’t care. As long as it got you to where you needed to go, you could live with not knowing. Remus guided you through the cold halls, the two of you trying not to giggle as you fumbled up the stairs to the astronomy tower. It was moments like this that you were sure James would come around. The two of you made each other so happy, how could he deny his own sister that chance? You shook your head in thought as Remus entered the platform, slowly taking the blanket off of you and laying it on the ground.

“Give me your sweatshirt,” Remus whispered, tugging at the edges.

“But I’m cold Remus,” you pouted, earning a chuckle from him.

“Don’t worry, I’ll warm you up. I promise,” his sweet tone made you oblige as you stripped off the sweatshirt, leaving you in your tiny pajama shorts and bra. Remus muttered a curse under his breath at the sight of you before transfiguring your sweatshirt into a pillow. Sometimes you forgot how talented he was, but it was one of the many reasons why you had fell for him. Remus took a seat on the blanket and held his arms out for you. You graciously accepted his invitation, falling into his lap and burying your head into his chest as his laid down.

“I’m sorry this happened today, my love. It’s terrible timing, really. I had special plans for this evening as well,” Remus sighed into your hair as he stroked your back. You hummed and looked up to him.

“What plans?” You asked in a small voice. You were tired from crying all day, and he could see it in your puffy eyes. He let out a breath as he smiled down at you.

“I had a whole date planned for us tonight. I was going to tell you that I love you,” Remus breathed out, his thumb coming up to stroke your cheek. Your breath hitched.

“You-you love me?” You whispered, pulling yourself up closer to him. He chucked at the sight of you, eyes blown out with hope and a smile teasing the corners of you lips.

“Yes, Y/N. I am hopelessly in love with you, if it wasn’t obvious already,” Remus smiled, pushing himself up to gently lay you on your back. You shook your head, your words suddenly stuck in your throat.

“I-it wasn’t,” you whispered, running your fingers along the top of his shirt, “I love you, too.” Your lips curved into a smile as you watched Remus’ do the same. He pressed his forehead into yours as he stroked your cheek. The two of you stayed like that in a small silence, your hearts beating in your chests.

“I’m going to kiss you now,” Remus chuckled, unable to bear the want within him. He stifled your gasp with his lips, kissing you as if it was the first time. Remus moaned into your mouth, making you want him even more. He was driving you mad. You were completely addicted to him. He had you sending him a pair of your panties for gods sake. You gasped again as his fingers gripped your hips and ground himself into your heat, but any sounds you tried to make were shoved back into your mouth by his tongue. You were drowning in him, and it made you drunk with pleasure. Remus never broke you kiss as his fingers moved swiftly under your shorts, pressing lightly on your clit through your soaking panties. You groaned, throwing your head back, but his lips followed. He couldn’t get enough of you, the sounds of your moans reverberating in his mouth and traveling straight down to his bulge. His thumb played with your clit softly, making you whine as you panted into his mouth. You felt him smile against you.

“Do you like that?” He said, pulling back to catch his breath. You nodded and whined again. “Use your words, love.”

“Y-yes, Remus. It feels so good, please don’t stop,” you whined, the knot in your stomach beginning to form. He hadn’t even removed you panties yet, and you were already so close to coming. He let out a breathy laugh. He could tell you were close.

“Wasn’t planning on it,” he said, moving back to kiss you again. You moaned loudly into his mouth, finding it hard to catch your breath with his tongue down your throat. His left hand came up to grip the back of your head, forcing your mouth further into his as his fingers sped up, keeping the same feather light pressure over the fabric of your panties.

“Mmm,” you tried telling him you were close, but he wouldn’t let your lips free. He nodded and grunted, pressing down slightly harder on your clit as he rubbed you. Your head begin to spin as you lacked air and common sense. It was building up so fast, and your kisses became sloppy as your moans became more frequent. Remus didn’t let up though, continuing to swallow you whole as his fingers moved expertly over your mound, as if he knew every line of pleasure in your body. You whined into his mouth as the knot in your stomach broke, and your pussy flooded with waves of pleasure. Remus moaned alongside you as he felt the wetness beneath the fabric growing. He could feel your nipples pressed against his chest through your flimsy bra, and he just couldn’t take it anymore. He let you ride out your high and shudder in his arms. He finally broke away from his kiss with a gasping breath as he looked down at you. You looked beautiful, he thought. You looked absolutely lust stricken and it was all for him.

“I need this off,” he muttered, removing his hand from your mound and pulling your bra down. He then moved to your shorts, roughly pulling them down along with your panties. You looked a mess, but Remus thought you’d never looked more beautiful. He groaned as he began to kiss down your neck, then to your breasts, down your stomach, and to you bare pussy. He looked up at you through his lashes as you squirm. He chuckled under his breath and gave your wet clit a kiss, making you whine and squirm.

“Remus, please,” you whined, grabbing his hair and pulling him away from your heat. He chuckled and smiled at your with a half grin.

“Tell me what you want, Y/N,” he said huskily, his fingers rubbing your thighs.

“I need you inside me, Rem,” you groaned, pulling his hair again to bring him over you. He couldn’t help but laugh, you looked so cute. And he was more than happy to oblige considering his cock was throbbing for you.

“Anything you want, love,” he said, coming up to his knees and pulling down his sweats. You laid there splayed on his blanket as you watched his cock slap back up to his stomach. You sat up, opening your mouth and looking up at Remus. His smile stayed on his face as he used his hand to pull your head forward, thrusting into your mouth. You moaned around his cock, using your tongue to fully wet him. “Y/N,” he moaned, his head thrown back as he lightly thrust into your mouth. You hummed, grabbing him with both your hands to cover the rest of his length that you couldn’t fit in your mouth. Remus gave it a few more seconds before he pulled himself off of you and laid you back down on the blanket, giving you another wet kiss. His breath was ragged as he lined himself up to you, watching your face as he pushed his length into your wet pussy. He groaned as his head fell into your shoulder, letting you adjust to his size. You kissed the side of his neck letting him know it was okay to move. Slowly, Remus pulled back before thrusting into you again, earning a gasping moan from your lips. He pushed himself up to watch you, both of your faces twisted in pleasure as he began to pick up his rhythm.

“Fuck, Y/N,” he groaned, grabbing your waist with his hand.

“Remus,” you moaned, clenching around him. He began to fuck you harder, chasing his own high.

“Fuck, I love you so much,” he said, falling down to kiss you hard as he thrust into you faster. You moaned into his lips as if to say I love you, too while he continued to fuck you deeper. Remus felt like he needed to be closer to you, even though he was as deep as he could go. He went back to suffocating you with his lips, his hand gripping the back of your hand once again to push you up closer to his mouth. With his free hand, he lifting your leg up beneath your thigh, his dick rubbing up against your g-spot with every thrust. You whined shamelessly into his mouth as you felt yourself begin to pulse underneath him. His thrusts were getting sloppy, but he continued to fuck you just as hard.

“Rem,” you gasped, trying to break free of his kiss, “I’m gonna-” he slammed his lips back into yours, thrusting deep inside you to shut you up. Then you were coming again hard, shuddering around Remus has his seed spilled out into your pussy. His thrusts slowed as he pressed his forehead into yours, riding out the last little bit of his orgasm. He began to plant kisses around your face, earning some giggles from you as you hugged around his neck.

“Fuck that was so good,” Remus smiled, dipping down to give you one last kiss. You smiled up at him, beaming. You knew this was only the beginning of what you hoped would be a long relationship with Remus. The two of you took your time that night, joking around and looking at the stars and peppering kissing across the others face. At around 4, Remus insisted he brought you back to the dorm. He didn’t want to get you in anymore trouble than he already had. As the two of you snuck back through the halls you asked,

“If you had this map the whole time, why haven’t you used it before?” Remus stopped in his tracks. The two of you were nearing the common room.

“That bastard,” Remus grumbled, folding the map and placing it in his waistband.

“Remus?” You asked as the two of you entered the common room.

“Don’t worry about it, love,” he said giving you a kiss on the head, “go up to bed. I’ll see you in the morning at breakfast and we’ll get everything figured out.” You nodded as he gave you one last hug before going back to your dorm.

Remus entered his room quietly, buzzing with adrenaline. He found it hard to fall asleep, but eventually his body gave out, and he managed to get a few hours of rest before promptly shooting up in his bed. When he opened his curtain, James was staring at him from his bed.

“James,” Remus said, standing up. James looked away and crossed his arms. “James, please. Just let me explain myself. Let’s go downstairs and talk.” James grumbled but stood up, following Remus’ lead out of the room. Sirius and Peter exchanged a look as they watched, thinking that Remus had to be insane. Remus found an empty corner of the common room and sat down, motioning to a chair for James.

“Whatever you say, you’re not allowed to see her again,” James grunted, the morning still prevalent in his voice. Remus sighed.

“Look, James. I’m sorry you had to find out like this. We were waiting to tell you, I was waiting until she was ready. I know what I did was selfish and unfair to you, but I couldn’t break her trust,” Remus scooted his chair closer, “James, she’s the best thing that’s ever happened to me. She makes me so happy and I can’t imagine my life without her. Please, just give me a chance to show you,” Remus pleaded. James looked up with concern in his eyes, but shook his head.

“I’m sorry, Remus. But I can’t let you date my sister. After you’ve been lying to me all this time, how can I trust you with her?” James said matter of fact, crossing his arms in defiance. Remus rolled his eyes.

“But it’s different with you and Regulus?”

“Wh-what?” He stuttered, taken aback. His face was flushed in a deep shade of red.

“Please, James. You think I haven’t noticed you hoarding the map for the past few months? Plus, you’re really not subtle when you’re staring at him for the entirety of dinner,” Remus muttered, rolling his eyes again at his friend’s hypocrisy. James cleared his throat and sat up.

“What does this have to do with my sister?” James asked in a high pitch strain.

“James, you’re keeping the same secret from Sirius. Do you think that makes your feelings for Regulus any less genuine? I don’t. Just please James, give me a chance to show you how good I can treat her. You know I’m better for Y/N than any other git in this school,” Remus reasoned, finally feeling confident. James pondered this. It was true that if anyone was going to date his little sister, perhaps Remus wouldn’t be the worst choice.

“Fine, but we’re going to have a talk tonight. All three of us,” James said, wagging his finger at Remus. Remus was beaming.

“Thank you, thank you, thank you. You’re not going to regret this, I promise,” Remus stood up and clapped James on the back.

“Um, you’re not going to tell Sirius about Regulus, right?” James asked with a sheepish smile. Remus laughed.

“Of course not, Prongs.”

[daisymbin]

too handsome! - kim mingyu

warnings: alcohol & a bantering boogyu

pairings: kim mingyu x reader

genre: silly drunk confessions? friends to lovers!

wc: 1.1k

a/n: i can't believe this is the end of the drunken confessions series. I hope you had as much fun reading the series as I did writing them!! 🤍

drunken confessions series

check out my masterlist!

you didn’t know what was more of a surprise: the sight of kim mingyu sprawled out on the living room floor, head resting against a pillow that had somehow found its way under him, or the fact that he was currently singing—if you could even call it that—an off-key rendition of a song you were pretty sure didn’t exist.

“mingyu?” you called out, stepping inside and carefully setting down the takeout bags you’d brought. “what... what happened here?”

seungkwan, who was sitting cross-legged on the couch with a resigned expression, gave you a look that screamed exasperation. “oh, thank god. finally. please come take care of your pouty big baby.”

you let out a laugh, glancing between him and mingyu. “what’s wrong with him?”

“what’s wrong with me?” mingyu repeated, his voice slurred but full of mock offense. he pushed himself up onto his elbows, glaring at you through half-lidded eyes. “you’re what’s wrong with me! you took forever! i almost died waiting.”

seungkwan let out an exaggerated groan. “he’s been whining for the past hour,” he said, waving a hand at mingyu. “going on and on about how you abandoned him and how the world is unfair and how he’s too handsome to suffer like this.”

“i am too handsome to suffer like this,” mingyu insisted, turning his pout on seungkwan. “look at me! i should be cherished, not left here to rot.”

joshua, who had been watching the whole scene unfold from the armchair, chuckled. “well, you know what a good bottle of whiskey does to him,” he said. “he doesn’t know how much he’s drinking until it’s too late.”

mingyu dramatically clutched his chest, letting out a loud, theatrical sigh. “betrayed by whiskey, yet again. the tragedy of my life.”

you couldn’t help but laugh, stepping closer to your overly dramatic best friend. “mingyu,” you said gently, kneeling beside him. “you’re not dying, okay? i’m here now.”

he looked up at you with wide, glassy eyes and a pout that would have melted even the coldest heart. “you’re finally here,” he whined, folding his arms. “but you were late! so late. and i was lonely.”

“i was gone for, like, an hour,” you pointed out, trying to keep your voice steady despite the giggles threatening to burst out.

“an hour is basically a lifetime,” mingyu shot back, flopping onto his back with another dramatic sigh. “you’re lucky i’m forgiving. but just so you know, i expect you to grovel.”

“grovel?” you repeated, an incredulous laugh escaping your lips. “for what?”

“for breaking my heart,” he declared, pointing a shaky finger at you. “and leaving me here with seungkwan and his terrible attitude.”

seungkwan gasped, placing a hand over his chest as if he’d been mortally wounded. “my terrible attitude? excuse me, i’m the only one keeping you from full-on sobbing and ruining the carpet. show some respect, kim mingyu!”

mingyu stuck out his tongue, earning a scandalized gasp from seungkwan. “you see this?” seungkwan turned to you, his expression as dramatic as ever. “this is what i have to deal with. he’s insufferable.”

“you’re insufferable,” mingyu shot back, though his words came out slightly slurred. “and mean. so mean. you should be nicer to me, seungkwan. i’m fragile.”

“fragile?” seungkwan repeated, looking like he might burst out laughing. “you’re built like a damn tank. the only thing fragile here is your ego.”

mingyu groaned, pressing his hands over his face, leaning closer to you. “ugh! see? he’s so mean. you should comfort me.”

“okay, okay,” you said, fighting back a smile as you knelt down beside mingyu. “i’m here to comfort you. no more bullying.”

mingyu peeked at you through his fingers, his lips forming a pout. “you always know how to make me feel better,” he mumbled, his voice soft. “even when i don’t deserve it.”

“what do you mean?” you asked, your smile fading slightly at the seriousness in his tone.

mingyu sighed, lowering his hands from his face. “you’re always there for me,” he said, his eyes growing glassy. “even when i’m annoying and whiny and... and so obviously in love with you.”

your breath caught in your throat. “what?”

his eyes widened in horror, and he immediately clamped a hand over his mouth. “what,” he mumbled through his fingers, panic flashing across his face. “uh-”

“mingyu,” you said, your heart pounding. “what did you just say?”

seungkwan’s jaw dropped, an "oh my god, he's stupid." slips out before he clapped a hand over his own mouth to keep from screaming. joshua leaned forward, eyes wide with disbelief.

mingyu, looking utterly betrayed by his own mouth, let out a strangled laugh. “um... surprise?”

you stared at him, trying to process the whirlwind of emotions flooding through you. “you... you’re in love with me?”

he groaned, dropping his head back onto the pillow. “i didn’t mean to say that,” he muttered, his voice muffled. “this is the worst. the absolute worst.”

“mingyu,” you said softly, reaching out to brush a strand of hair from his forehead. “do you really mean it?”

he lifted his head just enough to look at you, his eyes filled with a mix of vulnerability and hope. “yeah,” he whispered, his voice cracking. “i really mean it. but if you don’t feel the same, please just pretend i never said anything. i can’t lose you.”

your heart swelled, and a smile slowly spread across your face. “you big, dramatic idiot,” you whispered. “how can i not?”

mingyu’s eyes lit up, and a slow, disbelieving grin spread across his face. “wait... really?”

“really,” you said, laughing as you cupped his face in your hands. “i like you, too.”

he let out a joyous, relieved laugh, grabbing your hands and pulling you into a tight hug. “this is the best day of my life,” he declared, his voice muffled against your shoulder.

“even though you embarrassed yourself in front of seungkwan and joshua?” you teased, pulling back to look at him.

he shrugged, a sassy grin spreading across his lips. “worth it,” he said, winking at you. “besides, i’m too handsome to be embarrassed for long.”

“oh my god, yeah and you're too handsome to be this oblivious yet here we are.” seungkwan groaned, throwing a pillow at mingyu. “get a room, you two! or better yet, get him to stop being so annoying & shut his mouth.”

mingyu caught the pillow and smirked, hugging it to his chest. “never,” he shot back, winking at you again. “being annoying is part of my charm, right?”

you laughed, feeling your heart swell with affection. “right,” you said softly, leaning in to press a gentle kiss to his cheek.

and as mingyu beamed at you, looking happier than you’d ever seen him. he's too handsome not to be loved, right?

[n0thingbutlov3]

need you now | 2 |

in which readers true feelings are revealed.

pairing: spencer reid x fem!reader warnings/tags: angst again (whoops) miscommunication (it’s short dw) fluff, reader is hungover lol, spencer is handsomely disheveled (moans) mentions of blueberry muffins being readers favourite type of muffin (sorry for not being vague but also if you don’t like blueberry muffins??? why) some tears, some swearing, some kissing, suggestiveness at the end of you squint (WHOOPS *evil smirk*) no use of y/n!! wc: 2.1k a/n: call me slim shady because i am back!!! i procrastinated writing this because i was scared everyone was secretly judging my writing and actually hated it and a second part would be a stupid idea but THEN i realised that was a little bit silly so im here B) part one got over 1000 notes (INSANE) all the support has been so so lovely—every note, reblog, and comment means the world to me, thank you!! i hope this part is okayy, feedback is always appreciated :) i hope you enjoy it you choose to read!!! <3 p.s kissing scenes are so difficult to write, i think i done absolutely awful!!!so let’s ignore that…. if you haven’t already and you’d like to, you can read part one here!

Your eyelids twitched as the early morning sun filtered through your bedroom. What was usually a calming wake-up call now felt like being blinded.

You burrowed your face into your pillow, squeezing your eyes shut in an attempt to dull the throbbing in your head. This is why you didn’t drink often.

Asides from the obvious headache and nausea, you always seemed to wake up with a sense of dread; ‘hangxiety’—a friend had called it once. It was creeping up on you now, and even though you weren’t sure exactly what you had done, you knew it was bad. You flipped onto your back, fixing your gaze to the ceiling as if it could tell you what irreparable mistakes you had made last night.

It couldn’t, of course. The only thing you had realised is that you should probably coat it in a new layer of paint soon.

“How’re you feeling?”

You shot up, eyes widening at the sight of a man in your doorway. A man whose sleepy voice and disheveled hair threatened to make you melt, but a man who should not be in your doorway, nonetheless; Spencer.

Your brain was quick to supply you with information then, your memory coming back in hazy remnants. You were upset so you…called Spencer for the first time in months. Yikes. He didn’t answer so you turned to a bottle of high end whiskey instead—yikes, again—and passed out on your couch, only to wake up to your ex-boyfriend in your apartment. Cue more sobbing, a pathetic attempt at asking—no, more like begging—him to get back together with you, and that was it. Well, mostly. There was also the promise of discussing your breakdown in the morning. The morning, which was now.

What the fuck.

“Like I’ve been napalmed.” You weren’t sure you were just referring to your raging hangover.

That prompted a raspy kind of chuckle from him and Jesus Christ—you really shouldn’t have called, because it was going to be infinitely harder to watch him leave when he inevitably told you you were sad loser who needed to get a grip and move on—except, he’d be a lot nicer than that, wouldn’t he? Because even if things were over between you, he was still the sweetest person you had ever met and he’d never say anything to intentionally hurt you. Maybe things would be easier if he did. If he wasn’t so sickeningly perfect—if he just insulted you in the way you were certain you deserved, then maybe you’d get over him quicker.

“So, I-ah-uber’d breakfast—“

Your inner turmoil came to a screeching halt at those words.

“You uber’d? You?”

He scoffed, a light blush dusting his cheeks.

“The team’s been very into it lately and I always finish my paperwork first so it only makes sense that I—stop laughing! I can uber!”

“Sorry! I just can’t imagine the great Doctor Reid stooping to the levels of a fast food delivery app. Do you ever order to the wrong place?”

“No.” he said, unconvincingly. “Well, only once—“

You were laughing again.

He whined, turning on his heel.

“Just take your aspirin and hurry up!” He grumbled petulantly as he left the room, but you could hear the smile in his voice.

After a quick freshen up and taking the pills placed on your bedside table—as per his request—you padded through to the living room, joining Spencer on the couch.

You gasped delightedly as he pulled out muffins from a brown paper bag. To be more specific, blueberry muffins; your favourite.

“Did you know that blueberries are good for fighting hangovers? They’re rich in vitamin C, which helps break down and metabolise blood alcohol. Muffins too, they—what? Do I have something on my face—“

“No! No, sorry,” You had been caught staring—ogling, more like. “I just missed…that.”

“What? My incessant rambling?” He was joking, but you could hear the insecure twinge in his voice—the one that told him he was too much. Over the course of your relationship, you had showed him that he didn’t have to think like that around you—that he was never too much; he was perfect in your eyes. You hated that he doubted that now.

“Yes, actually.” You tried to keep your tone light, unserious. But there was nothing unserious about just how badly you had missed the man sitting beside you. How you could hear his voice in your mind when you drove late at night, giving you statistics on accidents. Or how on other late nights, you swore you could feel his hands ghosting over your skin—only to find out it was your imagination.

If he could see how truthful you were being, he didn’t acknowledge it, turning his attention back to the coffee table.

“I’ll, um, save you the facts on how beneficial coffee is for hangovers, anyway.” He smiled awkwardly, shuffling a paper coffee cup to where your muffin sat.

“Thank you,” you mumbled, “for the coffee, not the withholding of information—i’m a real fiend for coffee facts…especially when they’re related to curing hangovers!” You said a little too cheerily, trying to alleviate the awkward tension. Although, that only seemed to make it worse.

Spencer just huffed out a little laugh in response, taking the wrapper off of his muffin.

The rest of breakfast went by in silence. Not the comfortable silence you always seemed to have with Spencer—when you were together, you reminded yourself—but a strained one. The kind of silence that occurs when there’s something left unsaid, and you’re just waiting for someone to spit it out.

Spencer broke first.

“So we should probably talk…about last night.”

You finished the remainder of your coffee, setting the empty cup down before turning your whole body to Spencer, tucking your legs up underneath you.

“Right, yeah…”

A beat passed, Spencer’s eyes darting around your face—assessing you.

For someone who had imagined this conversation in your mind countless times, you certainly weren’t saying much.

“I—uh…was very drunk.”

Something in him shifted, like he was putting up imaginary walls.

“So you didn’t mean…any of it?” His brow furrowed, his nose twitching slightly.

“Well no, but I—“ You what? Meant every word you said and more? You couldn’t just say that. You had just got a small part of Spencer back and you didn’t want to ruin it by coming on too strong.

He waited for you to add something, anything, to show him that maybe, maybe there was a tiny part of you that still wanted him as badly as he wanted you. But you didn’t. You just sat there, playing with the fabric of your—his—t-shirt.

He couldn’t do it.

He was so tired of loving people only for them to leave like he had meant nothing to them. Was that all he was to you? Someone you could call when your inhibitions were lowered, looking for comfort? He would do anything to be back in your life again, but he couldn’t be a person of convenience; someone you only wanted when you were lonely.

He ran a hand through his hair, swallowing down the tightness in his throat.

“You were drunk and you got carried away, I get it. I think I better go though—“

“What? No, I—“ You bobbed your mouth like a fish, trying to find the words necessary to keep him here. There were too many of them and yet none at all. None except for three. Three words that you wished you had the courage to say months ago, or weeks ago, or last night. But you never claimed to be a courageous person, and you weren’t about to spill your heart out again only for it to end up in rejection.

Spencer stood, making his way to your bedroom to grab his shoes and coat. He didn’t care about his other clothes, he could buy more—he just needed out before he broke.

You sat dumbfounded on the couch, willing yourself to do something, say something. It was like you were frozen. And you stayed frozen. As Spencer shuffled around your bedroom, as he returned to the living room—completely avoiding your gaze—even as he searched for his keys. You hadn’t realised he had driven over here. He didn’t usually drive unless he had to get somewhere urgently. Were you someone worth seeing urgently to him?

He picked up his keys, heading for your door and only then did you realise how dire the situation was. If he left now you weren’t sure he would ever come back.

“No—wait, Spencer!” You stammered, lunging off the couch to try and stop him. He unlocked the door, moving to leave when you grabbed onto his jacket sleeve.

“Please don’t—I love you!”

“What?”

He turned to face you and you noticed just how wrecked he looked—not at all dissimilar from how you had for the last few months. Had he looked like that the whole time?

You must’ve been staring because when you came back to your senses he was calling your name exasperatedly.

“Do you mean it?”

You were fed up living like this; harbouring so much love for someone and not being able to express it. Even if he didn’t love you back, even if he was over you, you couldn’t go another moment without at least telling him how you felt.

“Yes,” you heaved, “I love you—I never stopped loving you, I was just…” You knitted your brows together, unsure how to phrase what you were feeling.

“I’ve never loved someone the way I love you and that’s…terrifying. I thought the way I felt was wrong, like—when you were on cases, I missed you so much, more than I thought humanely possible and—well, I never wanted to be the kind of girl to base her happiness on another person because that’s how you get hurt. So, I thought the only way to combat that was by…distancing myself. I thought if you weren’t in my life anymore then I’d be able to get a grip and become more independent—“ you huffed, trying to stop the wobble of your voice. “but it didn’t work, because then I was just missing you twice as much, except I couldn’t see you at all—“

“You could’ve answered my messages, we could’ve—“

“So you could return your key? Then things would actually be over. Why do you think I ignored your messages?”

“Why do you think I kept messaging? Angel, I was never going to return that key—at least not willingly—I just wanted to see you, to see if you were doing just as horribly without me as I was without you. You know, I couldn’t even focus on cases—Hotch even suggested I take some time off.”

You frowned, your voice impossibly small. “I’m sorry.”

He took a step toward you, cupping your cheeks in his hands.

“Don’t apologise, you were dealing with your emotions in the best way you knew how. I just wish…” he swallowed, his adam’s apple bobbing. “I wish I hadn’t let you go so easily.”

His eyes were shining and—God, you wished you could take it all back. All the pain you had caused him, caused yourself, just because you were too scared to talk about your feelings.

“I wish I hadn’t left.” You blinked away the tears that were threatening to spill from your eyes. “Y’know, I read a book on astrophysics because it reminded me of you. I didn’t understand any of it but I couldn’t put it down. I still—“ you let out a watery chuckle. “still have it in my bedroom somewhere.”

Spencer smiled, swiping under your eye at a tear that must’ve escaped.

“Yeah? Maybe I can read it to you—help you understand it.”

“I’d like that.”

You didn't know much about celestial bodies or the ultimate fate of the universe, but you could've sworn you'd seen the stars pictured in that book in Spencer’s eyes when he looked at you.

“Say it again.” He mumbled, tilting his head down so that your faces were just inches apart.

“I love you.”

And then his lips were on yours, impossibly soft and everything you had been missing since you had broken up. He kissed you like you were the oxygen he needed and all you could do was sigh into him because you knew the feeling.

He leaned back all too soon, resting his forehead against yours.

“Well, I should probably go—“ He smirked, but you cut him off before he could continue his teasing.

“You’re not funny.”

He narrowed his eyes, sucking his teeth.

“I don’t know, I—“

You pressed a firm hand on his chest, bunching the cotton of his t-shirt into a fist.

“Stop. Stay—we can have a pyjama day and maybe for dinner, you can show me just how tech savvy you’ve become and uber us some food—“

He rolled his eyes, kicking the door shut before pressing his lips to yours with more force this time.

“Stop talking.”

[lillie98]

You Can’t Be What You Can’t See.

Positive, authentic representation means the difference between feeling like an alien in your community and discovering your identity. I’ve been on this journey for the last four years. Diving into media, my past, and other autistic creators to put together some semblance of what it means to be me. A large piece of that puzzle snapped together last year after watching Stranger Things Season 4, specifically the Painting Scene. I could not wrap my head around why Mike didn’t take the time to comfort Will as he cried or why he didn’t seem to understand Will was talking about himself. I thought back on his whole characterization and what I would have done in that situation, and the lightbulb dinged: Mike is autistic…just like me.

It was an overwhelming moment of joy, understanding, and identity that not only did we share the same diagnosis, we practically share the same brain. Since then Autistic Mike has taken over my mind and taught me more about myself than any doctor. I’ve explored him through my writing and used his (eventual) relationship with Will as something to aspire to, that maybe someday my Will will come for me. Someone to accept, love, and understand every part of me. It is incredibly healing and life-giving and I’m so thankful for everyone involved in creating such a beautiful story. When Bhavna announced she had opened commissions for her art, I knew I had to have this turning point in my life memorialized. We worked together for about a month to come up with this piece and I could not be happier. I sobbed when I saw the preliminary sketch—I finally felt seen.

All that to say, never be embarrassed about something you love. There is someone out there who needs to see it’s okay to exist. Please enjoy Mike’s latest DnD info-dumping session while his boyfriend, Will, looks on. It’s late, they should be in bed, but Mike can’t stop and Will’s too infatuated with Mike’s happiness to make him. The world is a little too loud, so Mike donned his headphones, and Will loves the way they relax Mike and allow him to process the world a little easier. Thank you, Bhavna. Happy Stranger Things Day. ❤️

[jukeboxsweethearttt]

for older sugar daddy rafe and reader would you write their first argument or something like that

Book of Love

Oldersugardaddyboyfriend!Rafe Cameron x Fem Reader

cw:angst:( but has a fluffy ending, talks of pregnancy, Rafe’s oldest daughter Claire is older than you, Victoria is the same age as you and Hannah is younger than you. no use of y/n I think

inspired by @starfxkr sugar daddy Rafe ofc

The sprawling lawn of Rafe’s Hamptons estate basked in the glow of the setting sun, creating a picturesque scene that starkly contrasted with the storm brewing inside.

The dining room, typically a place of warmth and laughter, was now tense with an unfamiliar strain. You sat at the end of the long, gleaming table, your hands clasped tightly in your lap. Rafe stood across from you, his stance rigid and his eyes filled with frustration.

His three daughters, Claire , Victoria, and Hannah, watched the scene unfold with a mix of concern and unease.

This was the first serious argument you and Rafe had ever had. It had started over the charity gala—a high-profile event you had been working on tirelessly.

“Rafe, I just want to make this event something special, something that showcases what we can achieve together,” you said, your voice trembling slightly.

Rafe, his expression hard, replied, “This isn’t about showcasing us, Bunny. This is about making strategic decisions. You need to understand the stakes involved.”

Claire, the eldest, shifted uncomfortably in her seat. She shared a look with her sisters, Victoria, and Hannah, the youngest of the bunch.

Claire finally spoke up, her tone gentle yet firm. “Dad, she’s trying to help. She’s put a lot of effort into this.”

Rafe’s eyes softened momentarily as he looked at his daughter, but his frustration remained palpable. “I know, Claire, but this is more complicated than just putting in effort. Experience matters here.”

You felt a lump form in your throat. “Rafe, I’m not just some inexperienced kid. I’m trying to contribute, to be a part of this.”

Rafe’s gaze turned steely. “You are young and inexperienced. You don’t get how high the stakes are. This isn’t some game.”

Your heart sank at his words. Tears welled up in your eyes as you struggled to hold back your emotions.

“I can’t believe you see me that way,” you whispered, standing up abruptly. “I thought we were in this together.”

Victoria stood, her face a mix of anger and disappointment. “Dad, you’re being unfair. She’s doing her best.”

Rafe ran a hand through his hair, his frustration boiling over. “Life isn’t fair, Victoria. I’m trying to protect her from making mistakes that could cost us.”

You couldn’t bear it any longer. Tears streaming down your face, you rushed out of the room, the sound of the door slamming echoing through the house.

Claire glanced at her father, shaking her head in disappointment before following you outside.

Rafe stood there, his anger giving way to a heavy silence. Hannah finally spoke up, her voice quiet but firm. “Dad, you really hurt her.”

Outside, Claire found you sitting on a garden bench, your shoulders shaking with sobs. She sat down next to you, wrapping an arm around your shoulders.

“Hey, it’s okay. He didn’t mean it he’s just stressed,” she said softly.

You wiped at your tears, shaking your head. “It’s not okay, Claire. He thinks I’m just some naive child.”

Claire sighed, her heart aching for you. “He’s scared, that’s all. He doesn’t know how to handle this.”

You took a deep, shuddering breath. “I can’t handle all of this stress. There’s something I need to tell you,” you said, your voice barely a whisper.

She looked at you, concern etched on her face. “What is it?”

You met her gaze, your eyes filled with a mix of fear and hope. “I’m pregnant. I just found out a few days ago.”

Claire’s eyes widened in surprise she knows you’ve wanted children of your own but was shocked at the news considering her dad’s age.

Deep down she’s kind of indifferent but pushes those feelings to the side quickly as you started to cry again from her silence.

She quickly pulled you into a tight hug. “Oh my God, that’s news. Have you told him yet?”

You shook your head. “No, I was waiting for the right moment. But now... I don’t know if there ever will be one.”

She pulled back, holding your shoulders. “You need to tell him. It might be exactly what he needs to hear.”

Back inside, Rafe was pacing the living room, his frustration giving way to a deep sense of guilt. Victoria and Hannah watched him, their expressions stern.

“Dad, don’t you think you were a bit harsh?” Victoria asked, her voice steady but reproachful. “She’s part of our family.”

Rafe stopped, his shoulders slumping. “I know, I just... I don’t know how to handle this.”

“You handle it by respecting her,” Hannah said softly. “She’s not a child, Dad. She’s your partner.”

Just then, Claire walked back in with you, your face still streaked with tears but your resolve stronger. Rafe looked up, his heart aching at the sight of you so upset.

“I’m sorry,” Rafe began, but you held up a hand to stop him.

“Before you say anything, there’s something I need to tell you,” you said, your voice steady. “I’m pregnant, Rafe.”

The room fell silent, Rafe’s eyes widening in shock. He took a step towards you, his expression softening. “You’re... you’re pregnant?”

You nodded, tears spilling over once more. “I found out a few days ago. I wanted to tell you in a special way, but...”

Rafe closed the distance between you, pulling you into his arms. “I’m so sorry, baby. I didn’t mean to hurt you. I’m just... scared. Scared of not being good enough.”

You looked up at him, your eyes filled with love and determination. “We’re in this together, Rafe. We can make it work, but you have to trust me. Trust us.”

Rafe nodded, his eyes brimming with tears. “I promise. I’ll do better. I’ll trust you, and I’ll be there for you and our baby.”

Claire, Victoria, and Hannah watched the exchange, their expressions softening with relief but making a mental note to discuss this sudden pregnancy announcement later.

The tension in the room began to dissipate, replaced by a sense of hope and renewed commitment.

Later that evening, you found yourself in the kitchen, helping Victoria prepare dinner.

Victoria glanced over at you, offering a small smile. “I’m so happy that you stood up to him,” she said softly. “Dad needed a wake-up call.”

You returned her smile, feeling a warm sense of acceptance. “Thanks, Victoria. It means a lot that you understand.”

Meanwhile, in the living room, Rafe sat with Claire and Hannah. Claire leaned forward, her expression serious but kind.

“Dad, she’s good for you. We see how happy she makes you, but you have to let her grow up. She’s got a good head on her shoulders.”

Rafe nodded, his eyes thoughtful. “I know, Claire. I just… I’ve spent so much time trying to protect everyone that sometimes I forget to let go. I’ll work on it.”

Hannah, who had been quiet until now, chimed in. “We all want the best for you, Dad. And for her. Just remember, she chose to be with you because she loves you, not because she needs a protector.”

Their words resonated with Rafe, who realized just how much he had to learn about balancing his protective instincts with respecting your independence.

He stood up, feeling a mixture of gratitude and determination. “You’re right. All of you. I’m lucky to have you four looking out for me.”

Back in the kitchen, Victoria was dishing up the last of the pasta when Rafe entered. He walked over to you, placing a gentle kiss on your forehead.

“I’ve been talking with the girls,” he said, his voice soft and earnest. “And they’ve made me see things more clearly. I need to let you live your life, make your own choices. I’m so proud of you for standing up to me.”

You looked up at him, your heart swelling with love and relief. “Thank you, Rafe. That means a lot to me.”

Dinner was a warm, lively affair. The five of you sat around the table, sharing stories and laughter. The earlier argument seemed like a distant memory, replaced by a stronger sense of family and mutual respect.

Claire and Victoria teased Hannah about her latest crush, while Rafe kept his hand on yours under the table, a silent promise of his commitment to change.

As the evening wore on, you found yourself sitting on the balcony with Rafe, the moon twinkling above. He wrapped his arm around you, pulling you close.

“You know, Bunny, I’ve never felt this way before. You’ve brought so much joy into my life.”

You rested your head on his shoulder, feeling content and secure. “And you’ve given me a life I never dreamed possible, Rafe. I’m so grateful for you.”

Rafe tilted your chin up, looking deeply into your eyes. “I promise to always support you, to let you be your own person. We’re partners in this, equal partners.”

You kissed him softly, the love between you palpable. “Thank you, Daddy. That’s all I ever wanted.”

As you both sat there, you felt a deep sense of peace. The argument had brought you closer, teaching you both valuable lessons about trust and love. And as Rafe held you close, you knew that no matter what challenges lay ahead, you would face them together.

The next morning, Rafe surprised you with breakfast in bed, a gesture that made your heart flutter. He sat beside you, watching you eat with a content smile.

“I thought we could spend the day together, just the two of us. How does that sound, Princess?”

You grinned, feeling the excitement bubble up inside you.

[keraxxx]

I need Oliver and Felix so bad like you don’t understand.. IM DESPERATE.

but can you please write something about brat taming w Oliver 😕🙏 like reader is also a friend of Felix similar to farleigh and she’s just very against Oliver bc she feels like he’s gonna take Felix away from her..

Pls include spanking 😋😋

OMG IM VIBRATING THIS IS A GOOD IDEA. OFC IM GONNA WRITE THIS!! I’m gonna base this off the scene with Farleigh and Oliver a bit. (sorry this is kinda short..)

Brat taming

pairing: oliver quick x bratty f!reader

warnings: spanking, fingering, cursing, manipulation (maybe..), crying, oral (R receiving), slut shaming, roughness, orgasm denial, not proof read.

a/n: HI GUYS! i’m sorry i love this idea so fucking much. ALSO for my series i’m planning to have the next chapter out late night tomorrow or thursday. Anyways enjoy! 💋 (dw i’m getting to the other request soon this one js caught my eye)

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You were lying down in your bed, spread out onto the sheets, your eyes closed and headphones on. You weren’t sleep yet, you couldn’t sleep. Why was he here? You talked to Felix about this earlier.. You were scared Oliver would take Felix from you but of course, Felix denied your accusation and just kissed your head. You knew his friend had some sort of bad intentions you just couldn’t figure out what. Maybe he wanted to steal Felix for himself.. The way he looked at you showed hostility and you hated it. You hum as your eyes squeeze and you groan in frustration just thinking about the idea. You turn on your back and sigh, your hand on your forehead as you try to sleep.

You grunt softly as you feel a sudden pressure on your stomach, causing you to jolt up slightly, your eyes immediately opening. Someone was sitting on top of you. “Ollie?” You ask softly in a confused tone as you take off your headphones. He’s sitting on your stomach, squeezing your sides with his knees. “Ollie.. I think you’re on the wrong room.” You heaved out as he leaned down to look at you. “Am I?” He whispers, his face just inches from yours. He locks eyes with you, causing you to whine softly.

“You need to learn to behave.” Oliver growls. “Get up.” He commands as he gets off your stomach, allowing you to breathe more clearly. You hesitantly get up off the bed only for him to pull you back down onto him. He bent you over his lap in a painful way. You groan as his hand teases the soft silk fabric of your short white nightgown. “You have such a big mouth.. You can never stay quiet, huh? You need to learn to fucking whisper.” He hisses as he takes his free hand and forcefully grabs your cheeks, bringing your face up slightly as he leans down to yours. “You’re such a fucking slut for Felix.. Now shut up and behave for me.” He whispered before releasing you from his grip again. His hand at the edge of your nightgown slowly lifted up and bunched your gown around your waist, revealing your panties.

Oliver tuts as he looks at them, causing you to muffle a grunt. “Ollie I-“ He cuts you off with a loud smack on your ass. You yelp out loud and choke out a sob as he grabs your face again. “I said.. shut up and behave.” He raises his hand again and slapped your bottom. “Ollie please!” You moan out as he rubs your cheek to calm the sore redness threatening to appear soon. “Shut up.” He hissed again as he puts his free hand over your mouth. His hand slowly trails down your ass cheek and teases the wet mound under your panties, causing you to gyrate against his hand ever so slightly, soft and muffled whines spilling from your lips.

“You’re so wet..” Oliver chuckled as he watched you rub yourself against his hand. “You’re a slut for me too?” He whispers curiously. “I thought you ‘fucking hated me?’” “I do.” You say muffled, causing him to grip your face tighter. “Then why are you dripping all over?” He smirks before moving your panties to the side, revealing the sweet and succulent smell of your cunt. He moans in satisfaction before rubbing his middle finger against your drooling hole. His finger slowly teases its way into your cunt, causing you to moan, your legs squeezing together. He slowly pumps his finger in and out of your aching hole, your soft whimpers almost pouring through his hand.

“Will you behave?” He asks again in a hurried whisper and you gasp out a short yes. “Aww..” He coos as he watched you helplessly grind yourself into his finger. He lets out a dry laugh before shoving another finger into your tight hole. The gush of your juices spilling out onto his fingers makes you embarrassed. You hated him so much.. yet he’s fingering you in your own bedroom and you’re letting him. You moan as he picks up the pace of pounding your pussy, his fingers stretching you out in the slightest.

“I’m so close.” You whine into his hand and he snickers. “Yeah?” You nod and immediately your orgasm is ripped from you. You scoff as you look at him. “Ollie.. Please.” You whimpered out as he removed his hand from your mouth. He enticingly moves his cunt soaked fingers to his lips, teasing at his bottom lip before gently licking and sucking them clean. You watch him in awe, as if you’re in a trance. He removes his fingers from his mouth and hums. “There you go.. good girl.” He smirks. “You finally shut up.”

Oliver picks you up from his lap and places you on your bed, laying on top of you. He caress the side of your neck before gently placing his lips on yours. “Can you taste yourself?” He teases against your lips and you nod slowly as he pulls away. He trails down your body, touching and feelings your chest and stomach before he makes his way to your aching pussy. Oliver eagerly rips your panties from your body, causing a groan to escape your mouth. He looks at you knowingly before he lifts your thighs over his shoulders. “Shh..” He hushes before sticking out his tongue and placing it into your throbbing clit. Your back arches up at the sensation of his tongue rubbing circles into your clit, one of your hands finding its way to his hair and the other covering your mouth to stay silent. He eats your pussy like a hungry man, slurping up any juice that falls from you, his hands gripping the thighs on his shoulders. He slaps the side of your thigh as he teases your entrance with his tongue. Your jaw drops open into inaudible moans, your eyes rolling back and fluttering closed. He places kisses on your clit and lips, jolts of euphoria getting sent through your body as your legs begin to shake.

“You’re so close.. I just know it.” Oliver whispers into your pussy before indulging himself in it again. You choke back a sob as you tug at his hair, confirming his idea. He pulls away and rubs your clit. “Come on slut.” He coos as the knot in your stomach went away, releasing your juices all over your sheets. Oliver smirks to himself as he goes back down and licks you clean. Your jaw is left wide open as you watch him. He pulls himself up to your face and looks into your eyes again.

“Stop talking to others about me..” He whispers and you nod. “..’m sorry.” You say softly as his gaze softens.

“Good.”

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