#and she’s ribbing him back in that same scene

[softly-and-suddenly]

People are so boring about classic literature sometimes. Like I know it’s cool to be critical of men in books from the 19th century or whatever but it just leads to ripping out all of the nuance in favor of “Uh all of the Brontë men were evil and abusive and that’s all there is to those characters.” Say something interesting. I’m begging you

[cinnaleaf]

「 In Your DMs | One Shot 」

summary: you read jude’s DM on insta but never responded, thinking that was the end of it—until he spots you at the club & decides he’s not letting it slide

warnings: club setting, alcohol use, sexual tension, light themes of public attention/fame, language wc: ~4.9k 💌: i forgot who requested this but it’s here song inspo: BADGIRLERA x iBXRHM ft JAHKOY

The music in the club hit you first, followed by the strobe lights slicing through the dark, smell of spilled liquor, and bodies pressed together, pulsing against the beat. Your friend, Bri, pulled you through the mixed haze of vape clouds and smoke from a fog machine with a manic grin, way too eager for the night ahead.

“Our table is this way. Hurry up!”

You followed her lead, clacking your heels against the floor while your other friend, Tasha, trailed behind complaining about how she wasn’t standing all night in heels. The bouncers barely glanced at your crew when all of you strutted into the VIP section.

“Ooo okay, this is nice” Tasha slid into the booth, looking around to scope out the scene. Little did you know, Jude was also there, eyeing you from the minute you stepped in.

Bottles of tequila and vodka were already lined up on the table, untouched. You barely had time to sit down before a guy dripping in loud designer saw your table from across the section and started his approach. You clocked him too: probably mid 30s, big shiny watch, sleazy, and probably more interested in showing off his Amex Black Card than any real conversation.

“Your new sponsor is on his way” you whispered to Bri, smirking when she immediately started flipping her hair out of muscle memory. “Let’s hope he’s worth the pitch.”

“Ladies” he eyed the bottles on your table, smelling too strongly of oud cologne. “Looks like you could use a little more” You leaned back, tuning out while scrolling through your phone as he started the same routine you heard from so many other men: ‘I know the owner’, ‘Let me take care of that for you,’ yada yada. You let Bri and Tasha handle him – it wasn’t your vibe, and frankly, it wasn’t your problem. This wasn’t your first rodeo and guys like him always thought a heavy tab would buy them permanent attention. Not that you minded it; if burning through his card meant you didn’t have to touch your own, then so be it.

You tapped on the Instagram icon, scrolling through your profile, which was a mixture of travel pics, reels, highlights, and photo dumps until your thumb paused over a post from three weeks ago at a yacht party in Miami. Your skin glistened under the sun in a figure hugging bikini while you posed on the deck. Jude’s like stood out like a sore thumb. He liked plenty of your pictures before, but this one seemed to spur him on enough to like it within the first 5 minutes of you posting – with a DM following shortly after:

Been waiting for you to post again so I could slide in 👀 You’re beautiful. Let me know if you’re ever free?

Boo. Lame. Corny. Predictable. You rolled your eyes so hard when you saw the message, not even bothering to respond. You knew how this story went. A follow here with a few likes, a DM there, and before you knew it, you’d be getting ‘owwkayed’ on a gossip page that had way too much time on their hands. The thought of it made you want to gag, so you left the message unread but not unseen.

Tasha nudged your arm, pulling you out of your Insta scroll. “Oh my god, is that Jude Bellingham?” Her voice pitched higher in a tone that meant she was about to embarrass you.

“Huh?” you muttered, not bothering to look up just yet.

“That’s Jude Bellingham” she hissed, jabbing her acrylic nails into your ribs. “Near the DJ booth!” You were surprised you didn’t notice him before. He was tall and hard to miss, one hand holding a drink while the other tapped to the beat against his thigh. “He just winked at someone,” Bri added, craning her neck. “Or at least, I think that was that a wink??”

Tasha shook her head in disbelief. “How is it possible for him to look even better in person?” You crossed your arms, rolling your eyes while staring at the untouched alcohol and assorted mixers in front of you. Jude wasn’t a stranger to you outside of your likes. You clocked his comments on your mutuals’ posts, and even been to a party or two where you were pretty sure he was lurking around. Then there was the DM you left in your inbox like the corny attempt it was.

“You’re embarrassing yourselves” you muttered, ignoring the way Bri kept looking at him from across the room.

“Embarrassed?? Girl, that’s a man worth embarrassing myself over.” Bri leaned forward, slowly sipping her drink while gawking at Jude, who was now eyeing your table. “I wouldn’t even be mad if I ended up on a gossip site for that one. What are they going to do?? Cry about it???” You froze for a minute to give her the side eye. That’s the exact reason you were trying to avoid types like him, no matter how good he looked in person. It was too much attention, too many assumptions, and definitely too much drama. You sipped your drink instead, the alcohol burning your throat enough to distract you from Bri’s yapping. 

Across the way, Jude was leaned back against the DJ booth with his eyes locked on your table. You were perched on the edge of your seat, phone in hand, while your friends kept stealing glances at him, giggling behind their drinks. Jude smirked, taking another sip. You hadn’t looked up a single time or even flinched in his direction. It didn’t surprise him – you hadn’t looked twice at his DM either. Even though he was one of the biggest names in football, you paid him no mind – unlike the girls always trying to latch onto him.

“Jude, babe, do you want another drink?” A voice rang out from a girl hovering way too close. He didn’t even know her name, nor did he care to learn it. She latched onto him earlier, trying to touch his arm every chance she got so she could throw herself into his space. He stepped aside, nodding politely while trying to keep his focus on you. 

“No. I’m good, thanks.” he spoke in a tone that discouraged any follow ups, which led to the girl pouting and standing next to him dumbfounded before finally taking the hint and walking off. When Jude’s attention went back to the VIP section, he caught sight of the guy hovering over your table. Jude thought he looked like a try hard who didn’t know how to cover a tab properly. His jaw tightened when he watched you tilt your phone a little while the guy gestured at your friends. He flagged down a passing bottle girl, making her stop in her tracks when she realized who he was.

“Hi!” she said, smiling flirtatiously. “What can I get for you?”

He leaned down slightly to meet her height, nodding toward your table. “See that table over there?”

“The table with the guy doing the most?”

“Yeah that one,” Jude smirked. “Can you send over some bottles to them? Dom, 1942, and whatever else is good. Add their tab to mine.”

She raised an eyebrow, intrigued. “And what do you want the bottle service sign to say?”

Jude shrugged, taking a sip of his drink. “One of the girls over there never responded to my DM so make it clear I’m still interested. She knows who she is.”

The bottle girl laughed, eyeing the table again. “Got it. I can do that!”

You weren’t paying much attention to the guy loitering at the table now that Bri and Tasha had him preoccupied. The drinks were finally kicking in, so you stood up to stretch, swaying to the bass of the music playing over the sound system, but then the bottle girls rolled up with sparklers crackling in the dim lighting – illuminating a path while carrying over a bucket filled with bottles.

“Oh shiiiit” Tasha shouted while standing up. Bri took out her phone to record the whole thing, doing an over the top “Wait..who sent this?!” act in the camera like she hadn’t seen this done a dozen times before on your nights out. You weren’t questioning it either. Someone paid, so who were you to interrupt the flow of endless drinks? You grabbed a sparkler from one of the bottle girls, waving it in the air while your other hand cradled a bottle of 1942.

“Real fine bitch, she ain’t gotta edit out the Getty!” Bri screamed the lyrics of the song currently playing, turning her phone around to record you dancing with the bottle in your hand. You tipped your head back, drinking straight from the bottle while the music bumped around you. Just as you were handing the bottle to Tasha, her jaw dropped and she grabbed your arm. “Wait, look!” she yelled, pointing over at the bottle girls holding up the sign. You turned with the sparkler still fizzing in your hand, squinting at the light up board they were waving in the air. At first it didn’t make sense, but then the words clicked clear as day:

HE’S HIM! RESPOND TO HIS DM!

You froze while your friends jumped around excitedly, trying to piece together what was going on.

“So who is it?” Bri smacked your shoulder. “That’s for you, Y/N. I know that’s for you!”

Tasha grabbed your wrist. “Wait. Is it him? Is it– oh my god it’s him, isn’t it??”

You couldn’t even process what was happening, let alone have time to come up with a lie. The bottle girl pointed toward the DJ booth and your stomach dropped. Jude’s legs were stretched out lazily in the VIP dance section with his head tilted enough to let you know he was watching the whole thing. He gave you a confident, cocky smirk and raised his glass toward you like he already won you over, but you weren’t about to play along that easily.

“Y/N!” Bri shrieked, grabbing your other arm. “What the fuck, why didn’t you tell us he’s in your DMs?!”

You didn’t answer. Couldn’t. Your body felt hot and the tequila wasn’t helping. Instead, you grabbed the bottle of 1942 and took another long swig to drown out whatever was about to unfold tonight. “He’s nobody special. He’s just some footballer. I’m not impressed.”

“Liar.” Bri crossed her arms, grinning. “You’re lying, and it’s all over your face.”

You ignored her, but they were both going into full meltdown mode, squealing and swatting each other while pointing at Jude, who hadn’t stopped watching you. Eventually he got up, taking his time as he walked toward the VIP tables. “Stop looking” you hissed, grabbing Tasha’s phone before she could take a video. Neither one of them were listening as Jude walked closer.

“Not to freak you out” Tasha whispered, “but he’s coming over.”

You kept your head down, pretending to scroll through your phone to try and play it cool.  Jude stopped near your table, just long enough to make sure you noticed him out of the corner of your eye, even if you were pretending to pay him no mind. 

“Y/N” Bri whispered urgently. “He’s looking at you.”

You refused to look up and instead sipped your drink while he hung around in your peripheral vision. He laughed in a mocking way and eventually sat at a table nearby, perfectly angled so he could keep you in his line of sight the entire night no matter where you were in the club. You tapped your nails against your glass, irritated he was slowly getting under your skin. You weren’t about to sit there being ogled like a trophy when you could be on the dancefloor, having a good time while ignoring him.

“Can we dance?” you stood up abruptly, pulling your dress down with one quick motion.

Tasha groaned instantly and threw her head back against the booth ready to complain. “Ugh..Y/N my feet are already killing me. Can’t we just sit here and do a cute little club bounce to the beat instead?”

“No. I came here to dance, so let’s go!” you urged, swaying to the beat to tempt her onto the dancefloor. Meanwhile, Bri was still stuck on the DM you failed to mention. “Y/N! He’s been after you and you just ignored him??” She shot up from her seat, scandalized, pointing her finger between Jude’s table and you. ��I saw his likes but he slid in your DMs and you said NOTHING?”

You gave her an annoyed look, rolling your eyes. “Can we stop talking about Jude? Would you want to deal with being associated with him? I don’t want to be a part of that circus.”

Bri checked Jude out over her shoulder, watching him laugh and talk with friends at his table. “Girl, yes! I would happily look like a clown for that. He could take me to his circus and I’d be front and center juggling his balls if it meant I could–”

“Okay, we’re done!” you cut her off, waving your hands around. “Are we dancing or not?”

“I already said no,” Tasha whined, sliding further in the booth. “I’m too cute to move and my ankles hurt. Go dance for both of us.” You rolled your eyes and grabbed Bri’s arm to walk over to the VIP section of the dancefloor behind the DJ booth. Bri was already swaying to the beat before you made it to the dancefloor, then she glanced back and turned toward you. “Y/N.. you know he’s still watching you, right?”

“Bri, please shut the fuck up.”

“I’m just saying! He’s been looking since we sat down. If you don’t want him..I’ll–”

“No, you absolutely will not” you cut her off, not allowing her to finish the sentence. When you reached the edge of the VIP dance area, you felt the heavy bass moving through your bones while lights strobed enough to make it hard to see beyond a few feet. You thought it would drown out Jude’s stares, but Bri made it her mission to give you play by play updates. Just as you were getting into the music and melting your hips into the beat, Bri spoke up for another update. She really couldn’t help it. “He’s still watching,” she sang in your ear.

“I don’t care” you continued dancing, not bothering to turn around to see what she was talking about. You didn’t need to confirm that Jude was extremely attracted to you. It was blatantly obvious the moment he positioned himself in a spot that gave him a front row seat to whatever you were doing. You could feel his eyes tracking the moves you made, but the longer you danced, the easier it was to forget about him – until the crowd shifted and suddenly he was there right next to you. Jude didn’t touch you, nor did he speak. He just stood there, drinking his drink like he wasn’t wreaking havoc on your girl’s night out.

“Are you lost?” you finally spoke up, tilting your head toward him without stopping your movements.

Jude grinned, nodding his head to the beat as he started inching closer to you. “Nah. Just enjoying the view.”

You glanced at him from above, brushing your hips lightly against him. “There are plenty of views here. Pick another one.”

“Why would I do that when I have the perfect one in front of me?”

“Corny” you quipped, still doing your best to not give him much at all. Jude stepped closer and dropped his voice enough that you had to lean in to hear him over the music. “You didn’t reply to my DM. Why?” You turned your face to him fully, laughing about him being so bothered by an unanswered instagram message of all things in the world. “You’re still on that, huh?”

“Hard not to be when you ignore me on purpose.”

You smiled and took a step back, but he answered your step back with a step forward of his own. “You’re really persistent Jude. I’ll give you that.”

“When I see something I want, yeah.” His gaze dropped and raked over your body. “And I want you.” You hated how much you reacted to that. You felt dizzy from the warmth of the alcohol swirling around in your stomach, combining with your butterflies. But you held your ground.

“Hmm..well..good luck with that” you turned around, pressing back into the crowd but Jude moved around to block your path.

“You’re not going to make this easy are you?”

“Jude, I’m not a jersey chaser. I’m sure you’re used to ‘easy’, but easy isn’t really my thing” you bantered back, which made him laugh in an irritatingly attractive way.

“I never said you were a jersey chaser. I do like a challenge though.”

The two of you were drawing more attention now. Clubgoers were looking and nudging each other while chatting, probably trying to figure out why Jude Bellingham was chasing some random girl around the VIP section. You should’ve cared but the drinks were doing their job. All you could focus on was the way his eyes stayed on yours and how he moved closer every time you stepped back, locked in a game that neither of you wanted to end.

“I hope you know you’re not as smooth as you think you are” you tilted your head, crossing your arms.

Jude smirked while stepping into your space, not caring who was watching. “And you’re not as carefree as you’re pretending to be.” 

He really did look even better up close and in motion. The way his lips curved into a smile made you want to run away to collect your resolve immediately, but you persevered and turned your back to him instead, swaying your body in tune with the music. The shift gave him an unintentional view of your dress creeping up as you moved, so he took the opportunity to step closer, brushing his hand against your waist as he leaned into your ear. To anyone else catching glimpses under the strobe lights, it looked more like he was kissing your neck – Tasha clearly thought so. She was slack jawed back at the table, frozen in drunken shock. Meanwhile, Bri was too busy sweet talking the DJ into switching the music into an amapiano mix to notice what was happening in front of her.

“You smell good” Jude voiced low against your ear with his lips so close, the words tickled your skin. “What is that? Coconut?”

“Wouldn’t you like to know” you answered, still not missing a beat but you were a lot less steady on your feet the more he spoke in your ear.

“Yeah” he replied simply, weighing his words with enough insinuation to let you know he was going to be a problem for you all night. You turned to face him with your back against the railing and Jude’s hands fell from your waist and onto the rails to cage you in without touching you. All you could see was his sly, smug grin in front of you while bodies moved to the beat in the outskirts of your vision.

“Why are you wasting your time?” you asked him, dropping your gaze to his lips. They weren’t something you would’ve been focused on any other time, but the liquor was coursing through you by this point and clouding your decision making skills. Jude’s eyes dropped to drag over the neckline of your dress, giving him a full top view of your cleavage before he snapped his eyes back up to look you in the eye. He leaned in closer, crowding your space just enough to make you part your lips in a silent gasp.

“Wasting my time?” he repeated the question rhetorically. “I have your attention, so is it really any time wasted?”

You tilted your head up to meet his cocky tone with some cockiness of your own. “I’m only here because you’re standing in my way.”

“If I moved, you’ll just keep ignoring me, yeah?”

“Yeah” you drawled, mocking his insinuated answer from earlier. Jude’s gaze was almost too much but you refused to back down. “You’re not irresistible in the way you think you are. I’m not going to hook up with you just because you’re Jude Bellingham. I really don’t give a fuck.” 

He gave you a wolfish grin, moving in even closer. You could feel his breath against your cheek when he spoke again. “Then why are you still here talking to me? Ask me to move around.” 

You scoffed, crossing your arms while looking past his tall stature to look at literally anything else other than him. “Maybe I’m just bored.”

“Yeah? Is that right?” Jude’s voice dipped into a teasing, amused tone. He tightened his hands on the railing, brushing his knuckles against your sides while tilting his head closer toward your neck so he could hear you better. “If I left you alone right now..what would you do? Go back to scrolling on your phone so you can pretend you don’t notice me?”

He was getting under your skin now, mostly because he was right, but he didn’t need to know that. “I’m just trying to have a good time with the girls. Don’t make it weird Jude.”

“I’m weird for wanting to talk to you in person? You never responded, remember?”

“I did you a favor” you retorted. “I saved you the embarrassment of me rejecting you. I know that can hurt an ego like yours.”

Jude laughed against your neck, making you shift your body posture in the small space. “I don’t think you would’ve rejected me.”

“No, I definitely would’ve. I have standards.” you countered. That was true for the most part, but Jude going back and forth with you for this long had you intrigued. He really wanted you and he was pulling out all the stops to make it happen, which was kind of hot.

Jude tilted his head back toward your ear. “Why are you dancing with me then?” That was a good question. Why were you still there, dancing to the beat with him, letting him stand close, talk this much, get so far? You didn’t know – so you stayed quiet and rolled your hips to the bassline that had just dropped, moving closer to him with every beat. He could tell you were starting to crack, so he wrapped his arms around you, just enough to pull you close, but loose enough to let you decide how much closer you wanted to be. “Nothing to say now, huh? That’s what I thought. What’s your move after the club?”

“Good question..” You pretended to look around for your friends to give yourself time to come up with an excuse about how you had plenty of after club plans, but when you looked down to see the way his big hands flexed against your hips, you answered honestly instead. “I don’t have any.”

Jude’s grin grew wide, making him flash his teeth under the strobe lights. He had you right where he wanted you and he knew it. “You could…” he started, leaving the rest hanging in the air just to see how far you’d let things go. You rolled your tongue against your teeth, taking in the way his smile climbed higher into his cheeks when his eyes locked on yours. The smile threw you for a loop and you caught yourself staring at his lips longer than you needed to once it turned into more of a smirk, which he noticed immediately. 

“...I could what?” you asked, feeling your resolve slowly start to slip.

“You could come with me” Jude tightened his hands across your hips and you stumbled a little, instinctively reaching your arm over his shoulder to catch yourself.

“And why would I do that?” you asked.

“...Why wouldn’t you?” Jude already knew your answer. You wouldn’t be still standing there if you weren’t interested in the slightest. He was so close to you that you could see his lips quirk upward into another smirk, growing even wider when he caught you stealing another glance at his lips. Instead of calling you out, he let his eyes drop to your lips in return.

“I don’t trust you” you finally answered, yelling over the music. It didn’t hit him nearly as hard as you wanted it to. You could feel Jude’s curls brush up against your temple when he leaned in to make sure he heard you correctly. “Trust me with what?”

You giggled drunkenly, trying to shake off the effect he had on you. “Trust you to not be like every other guy in my DMs.”

Jude pulled back enough to look you in the eye, shaking his head at your refusal to just give in. “I’m not like every guy in your DMs,” he answered confidently like he was so sure there wasn’t anybody better than him trying to entertain you. “You’d know that by now if you answered..” Jude trailed his hand down to caress your lower back. He was right. There wasn’t anyone keeping you as interested as you were right now. But who would you be if you gave in that easily?

You tilted your head to the side, letting the silence stretch into knowing glances. His eyes darted to your lips again and you leaned into it, contemplating letting him kiss you, but just as his lips hovered dangerously close to yours, you cocked your head back with a sly smirk on your lips. Jude had a surprised look on his face and loosened his grip, laughing to conceal the fact that you beat him at his own game. You pulled out your phone, entering your code and tapping at your screen until you opened the Instagram app. Jude’s jaw flexed in the dimly illuminated light while he watched. Once he realized what you were doing, a smirk of his own appeared on his face. You opened your DMs and scrolled until you reached the one he sent weeks ago, typed your reply and hit send. You gripped his bicep to make him lean down within ear shot, letting your lips brush against the edge of his jaw purposely while you spoke. “Check your messages” you teased before stepping back and removing yourself from the loose hold he had on you. He stood there frozen, but then turned his head to watch you saunter off back to your section, swaying your hips more than necessary to give him a show. When you met up with Bri and Tasha back in your section, they dragged you down to the table to badger you with questions.

“So what happened? What did you do?” Bri asked.

You smiled and reached for your drink. “Nothing serious,” you answered flatly, which made them want to question you even more. Tasha squinted at Jude from across the club then turned her head back to you. Just as you were about to take another sip of your drink, she grabbed it from you. “No sipping, more spilling please. Why is he smiling at his phone like that?”

You snatched your drink back, shrugging. “I just told him to check his DMs.” They had no idea you had Jude wrapped around your finger at the moment, so you tried to play it cool. Bri’s mouth dropped open and Tasha gasped dramatically, smacking the table for extra dramatics.

“Check his DMs?” Bri repeated loudly. “You responded?!”

“Maybe.” You swirled your drink and slowly sipped while meeting his eyes across the club. You could see Jude smirk when he put his phone in his pocket and slowly made his way back to his own table. He sat there, talking to his friends while laughing it up until he caught you looking at him from your seat. He could see you twirling the straw around your drink with your tongue, caught in the act. He angled his head, smirking at you and mouthed something to you while pointing his thumb toward the exit. You couldn’t make out what he was saying through the darkness, so he stood up and started dapping his boys up before slowly making his way over to your table. You tried to ignore him at first, pretending you were doing something on your phone even though there was no reason for you to still be playing hard to get, seeing as you just virtually agreed to spend the rest of your night with him.

“Sorry to interrupt...” Jude flashed a cheeky grin at Tasha and Bri that had them crumbling on the spot. “I’m taking Y/N off your hands for the night. I hope that’s alright?”

Tasha and Bri squealed in unison. “Please! Take her. She’s all yours.” They both shoved you out of your seat in a hurry. “Go. GO!” You cut your eyes at them but Jude gave you no time to argue and stretched his hand out.

“You ready?” he asked, eyeing your frame from head to toe. 

You nodded, slipping your hand into his without any other words. Jude led you through the club towards the exit, and you took one last glance over your shoulder to wave at Bri and Tasha who were losing their minds. You giggled, turning back just as Jude leaned into your ear when you reached the exit.

“Let’s see if I can live up to your standards.”

[sayuri-of-the-valley]

On how Crowley and Aziraphale felt during the kiss (but mainly Crowley here):

Ok so first, the main idea for this huge meta is that a LOT of us noticed how the music from the kiss scene is similar to the nebula one, right?

Second, a lot of us also correctly noticed the parallels between the kiss and how it was to taste food for the first time for Aziraphale: bc of his reactions, the hand on lips, the similar way MS acted both scenes, the little inhale etc. So how was it for Crowley?

Aziraphale's reaction to the kiss is practically a puzzle to solve on its own, so it's fun to analyse it, but basically, in a few words, Aziraphale kissed Crowley and he discovered he was physically starving for him, longing for him, yearning for him, for his kiss, and he had no idea. Just like with the ox. And now he needs to gorge himself in him but he can't. Great amazing heartbreaking chef's kiss someone give MS an Emmy.

But there's already so much amazing meta out there about Aziraphale x Ox ribs x The Kiss that I want to focus on Crowley here, and on the music.

So back to the music. The song in "Before the Beginning" and the song that plays during The Kiss (I Forgive You + Don't Bother) are so similar. They're not *exactly* the same, but they're totally reminiscent of each other. The viewer is immediately reminded of those chords that played in the opening scene. It's no coincidence that the fandom was talking about this fact only minutes after first watching those final fifteen minutes. This is an obvious intentional choice for storytelling reasons (David Arnold is a genius).

I have no expertise whatsoever when it comes to music, so I asked our friend @otsanda to see if that made sense and not only it does and she explained it, but she also uncovered so much more hidden meaning in all of it (musicians are amazing), so check out her meta about the music that not only serves as evidence to what I'm proposing here but it also has so much more juicy information in it 💖.

Back to the point: WHY thought? Why choose a similar song? Why intentionally COMPOSE a similar song for that moment?

Hear me out. WHAT IF, by reminding the audience of the creation of the nebula, they meant to convey to us that, for Crowley, kissing Aziraphale gave him the same feeling that creating his stars did?

THAT'S what the music is telling us. THAT'S why it makes us remember "Before the Beginning". It may sound cheesy, but Crowley may have literally seen stars when he kissed Aziraphale. He couldn't react accordingly (just like Aziraphale couldn't), bc it was an overwhelming and extremely sad moment (the music is also telling us that) for both of them. They knew it was ending . They were both having a moment of huge revelation that was fated to not come to completion. Crowley was right, it was too late.

It makes sense to show Crowley's feelings through the music, bc he was the one who started the kiss, and also he was wearing sunglasses in that scene, it's different from a character like Aziraphale that has all his million expressions for everyone to see at all times. And they've been doing this ever since s1 with the Queen songs that play in his car or in the background.

So my point is: the same song being used there makes me wonder if kissing Aziraphale finally gave him what he lost. His purpose. What Aziraphale was trying to give back to him by taking him back to heaven. There's no need for Heaven. Just kiss him, Aziraphale, and there he'll find the stars you want to give back to him. There you will one day see that smile on his face you saw Before The Beginning. Neil Gaiman and David Arnold I am in your walls 😭

This is what may lead us to see this happiness in Crowley again (not the action of kissing itself, of course, but what it represents to their relationship, them being together, them being an Us).

As @otsanda said: from the music we can interpret that that moment was a Revelation for them. Almost a religious experience. Crowley found his purpose again. What he'd been missing the whole season (or even his whole life since the Fall, but we've seen him especially depressed this season).

I'm not even getting into the poetry of how one can interpret the parallel to the angel's reaction to the kiss as carnal, and the demon's as religious; that would be another whole essay but let's just agree that it's incredibly beautiful. (Let me be clear that I mean here Aziraphale's reaction is carnal specifically for Crowley, and Crowley's is religious specifically for Aziraphale, not religious as in "worshipping god")

"Do you ever wonder what's the point?" Crowley asked in s2e1. The point, for him, is Aziraphale (if you've seen The Good Place you know what I mean). I hope he figured this out with that kiss, even as heartbreaking as it was. Even if it was a (temporary) separation kiss. (I hope Aziraphale figures this out with time too, that he's more than enough to make Crowley happy, that Crowley doesn't need Heaven, or stars, that Crowley needs him.)

Maybe that's why Crowley didn't leave and kept waiting outside until the very last moment.

Aziraphale and Crowley both bit the apple at the end of s2. There's no turning back from that Knowledge now.

Edit: I just have to add here this brilliant colour analysis of the nebula scene by @halemerry. And it's pointed out that during the nebula formation there's a moment when it looks like two people embracing. And the fact that a similar song is used in the actual Kiss scene I just... I have no words

[fushiguruuzzzz]

+ CHAPTER NINE // COOLIO.

series mlist

Tags — mentions of alcohol, mentions of cheating, implications that readers mother was cheated on, angst Words — 0.7k

Toge Inumaki was a liar.

Toge Inumaki was a big fat liar because not only had he promised he’d be watching you, but he also said girls never paid him any mind. As you stared at him across the room, through the clumps of people swaying drunkenly along with your music, you could see him contradicting both of those statements. You had to force your voice to remain steady as you watched them, eyes locked onto the frame of the woman clinging to him like she was wrapped around his finger—like he was hers to wrap around. Was he? Well, it wasn’t like he was yours either, but that knowledge didn’t do much to soothe the aching in your ribs.

His back was turned to you. You could only imagine his face, but you figured it was much more attentive than it was when he looked at you. She was pretty by any standards, she just had this… glow to her. She radiated looks and confidence, magnetic and enticing as she batted her lashes up at him. As much as you hated to accept it, you knew Toge was only a man. Thats what you’d always known. That’s why you never bothered with men in the first place, until now, when you’d foolishly believed his eyes weren’t those who wandered.

Ripping your eyes away was a challenge, and had your chest not been resident to the bitter sickness planted by another’s beauty, you’d have been proud.

Her hand was on his arm. She was laughing. His shoulders shook as if he was too—but he remained faceless, expression as unknown as his entire presence felt in the moment. Was she leaning closer? You felt your heart pulsing in your ears, entire body crumpling in time with the beat. There was a sharp ringing in your ears, blocking out the strumming of guitars and the beating of drums. Then her lips were on his and you suddenly felt nauseous and the room was shrinking around you—all you knew was that you needed to get out. It was suddenly a curse that you had this love song to finish, because how could you let such tender things fall from your lips when all you felt inside was anguish? You felt utterly foolish. You’d been warned of these things, told stories like urban legends of the boys and the girls who swooped them up in their claws. You dared to glance back and were met with the same horrible sight, except it somehow felt worse than it had before.

And suddenly, you were your mother in a younger woman’s body. Nothing but a bystander to the downfall of your own romance. Her lips were on his, claiming the place you’d hope to mark as your own. It hit just a little too close to home, so you treated it like home. As soon as the familiar tune of the song ended, you ran. The microphone hit the ground and left nothing but a dull clang in place of your melodic vocals. You darted away so quickly that you didn’t see the way he scrambled away from her, nor the way his mouth opened to call after you. All he was met with was a door swinging shut and the crushing weight of a wrongdoing that wasn’t his, the misfortune of bad timing shattering his bones as well as your heart.

Megumi, Nobara, and Yuji didn’t waste any time in following you. They’d been frozen in place, background characters as the scene unfolded before them. The three shared one pit in their stomachs, growing deeper with the stretch of your absence and the desperate look in Toge’s eyes. His own friends were all the same, lips parted and for once, they were collectively unsure what to do. Only those who remained in the bar knew of your not-quite-lover’s resistance, those who had left only seeing one side. The bad side; the vague, untrue one. The one that would make you hate him, and even he knew that.

Toge lingered there, unable to swallow the lump in his throat as he glanced between where you once stood and his three peers. Shoving his face into his hands, he groaned. He was completely fucked.

Toge was HORRIFIED

Like he actually jumped four feet away from her

He only has huzz when he doesn’t want the huzz

Toge started blasting xxxtentacion full volume and lying starfish position staring at the ceiling

He was also chewing gum. Apparently the entire bottle of dawn dish soap didn’t wash out the taste of sluttery

Yn started blasting sad Lana del Rey and they were twinning from different households

“Can we pretend that airplanes in the night sky are like shooting stars” ass

Nobara went on a hate rant about Toge and threatened to sign him up for the military

I should really start proofreading shouldn’t I. Forgive me if these are booty I peaked as a writer a while ago Christmas break is almost over… 💔 I want to get Kilby girl done before then PLSSSUHHGG I’ll try. Ig…

Taglist — closed 50/50

@anotherwriternamedclara @ruruisru @adoresia @auroratumbles @sh0ot1ngst4r @soobin1437 @mystic-megumi @cinnamxnangel @lizbix @s3ns4ti0n4l @anonnieghost @s4toruz @gumims @bubybubsters @k4ss11333 @rreveurdoll @kaged-kitty @rwura @aldebrana @hqnge @good-mourning0 @daisies-and-domming @vi0let-writes @dazaisfavgf @hearts4aloise @coolgirl458 @keyaea @jealovsie @sirenla @academiq @mammoanlmao @moonchhu @ichcocat @blubearxy @hayl09 @q2uq2u @potteraep @fiannee @lailakys @jxisnwaol @treeguzzler @yatiimariiee @zayuriluvs @kr1nqu @cloudxox @azinniyaa @laaalaaaloooppppsiiieeeee @rottingvxmpire @gradmacoco @spkyssn

[jayflrt]

golden boy

❝ c’mon, this is exactly like the bahamas if you close your eyes. ❞

PAIRING ▸ lee heeseung x fem!reader

GENRES ▸ fluff, crack, best friends to lovers, summer romance au, rich kid au

WARNINGS ▸ profanity, underage drinking, heeseung is the biggest simp ever, and he calls you princess, mc has a stepdad, she is also a little spoiled in the beginning, tooth rotting fluff (like might be the fluffiest thing i’ve written), mutual pining ofc because this is a jayflrt fic, friends being insufferable (mainly 02z)

SUMMARY ▸ in the summer between high school and college, lee heeseung is determined to make you fall in love with the city of los angeles after your vacation plans in the bahamas fall through. somewhere between the lines, though, you end up falling for your childhood best friend.

WORD COUNT ▸ 16,375 words

PLAYLIST ▸ youth by troye sivan • tongue tied by grouplove • ribs by lorde • sanctuary by joji • cruel summer by taylor swift • stars by duncan laurence

AUTHOR’S NOTE ▸ i have been waiting AGES to share this one so i hope u guys like it !! ♡ also pls play stars by duncan laurence during the observatory scene if you’d like :’)

IT WAS THE FIRST DAY OF SUMMER VACATION WHEN YOU RECEIVED THE GOD-AWFUL NEWS.

“Your father and I are finally gonna have our honeymoon this summer!” your mother exclaimed, grinning excitedly as if she was expecting you to reciprocate the same energy.

Okay, maybe it wasn’t god-awful, but this was the one summer where you didn’t have to shoulder the responsibilities of being a student. Having recently graduated from high school, you were basking in the glow of finally becoming an adult and an incoming college freshman. You were finally free from AP exams, college applications, and the pressure of balancing academics and a social life. So, given all that, you were rather upset that your parents were leaving you behind before you had to fall into the routine of being a student all over again.

You didn’t mind having this talk. In fact, you were glad your mother was telling you in advance instead of just jetting away to another country and leaving a note behind. However, you didn’t understand why she had to have this conversation in front of your best friend, Lee Heeseung.

It probably didn’t help that you two had been joined at the hip since you were wearing diapers, but your families had gotten far too comfortable with each other. Just last week, Heeseung’s mom was asking you if you both had finally “tied the knot,” to which you replied by explaining that you had just graduated high school.

You were happy for your mother and stepfather, really. Your mother had experienced her fair share of bad relationships after your father left, so you were glad that she finally met someone so kind and genuine. You weren’t ever one to judge the men your mother brought home, but your stepfather always got brownie points for playing Mario Kart with you whenever he came over. Not to mention, he bought you the Nintendo Switch to play it on. He seemed to be the only man who didn’t feel insecure about your mother’s success and lavish lifestyle, so you only had good things to say about him.

While you were genuinely glad with the outcome of your parents’ relationship, that unbecoming, spoiled side of you was slipping through the cracks. Even your brain was shouting at you for complaining about having to stay in Bel Air for the summer. Yet, you were just far too frustrated with the bleak vision of your own summer to care about your parent’s honeymoon. In two weeks, you should have been vacationing in the Bahamas with a piña colada in your hand, not waiting for your parents to come back from Rome.

“That sounds so fun,” you chirped with fake enthusiasm, although you supposed it was easily detected due to your gritted teeth, “and that’s not gonna interfere with our trip to the Bahamas, right?” When she didn’t respond, you asked again, “Right, Mom?”

Your mother wore an uneasy look on her face at the sight of your displeasure, so Heeseung cut in quickly, “I think you should probably forget about the Bahamas this year, Y/N.”

“Heeseung!” you whined, sending him a sharp glare. He did not just tell you to forget about the Bahamas. “You’re supposed to be on my side!”

“Not around your mom, dude,” he muttered.

“He’s right, Y/N.” Your mother smiled as she placed her hands on your shoulders. “I mean, it would be good for you to stay here with all of your friends for once; I don’t think you’ve ever not left the country for the summer.” When you sulked, your mother tried to encourage you by gently squeezing your shoulders. “Heeseung and your other friends are here, and you have a car now! Yeji’s family moved to Irvine now, didn’t they? You can drive down to see her.”

You nodded, a little more encouraged. You and Hwang Yeji had been close ever since you met at Choi Jisu’s birthday party in middle school. When Yeji’s parents decided to move to Irvine, finding that housing was much more expensive in Los Angeles County, you were absolutely crushed. Plus, it wasn’t like Orange County was any less expensive, so you felt even more bitter about their sudden move. It wasn’t like you could drive and see Yeji whenever you wanted, either; the one hour drive felt like three with all the Los Angeles traffic.

You hung your head, dejected. “I guess so.” You turned your head to the side, noticing the snicker that Heeseung was holding back. After shooting him a dirty look, you looked back at your mother. “When are you leaving?”

“This weekend,” she responded, eyes fixed on her phone screen now. “I have to sort out my PTO with my boss today, though.” She kissed the top of your head and started heading for the door, heels clicking against the linoleum flooring with each step. “I’ll see you later tonight, Y/N! And make sure Heeseung actually goes home tonight!”

You shot a glance at your friend, who didn’t seem to have a care in the world in reaction to your mother’s words.

Heeseung tended to be scared of everything—everything except actually scary things, like biblically accurate angels or the wrath of his mother.

You gave your best friend a condescending half-grin, which he returned sheepishly. As of late, Heeseung had become notorious for staying out late with Jay Park, Jake Sim, and Park Sunghoon. (Yang Jungwon often joined them, but he was adamant about going home before midnight. Something about not wanting to miss out on his beauty sleep.) Everyone thought this was the beginning of Heeseung’s teenage rebellion (which was rather delayed), but then you discovered that all they did was play games in an internet café and occasionally use their fake IDs to get into VIP lounges at clubs.

When you heard the door shut, you circled around the couch to sit next to Heeseung.

“This sucks,” you said flatly. “Summer means an ungodly rise in temperature—hot enough to melt the skin off my bones, and I’d rather have that happen while I’m sunbathing in the Bahamas!”

“Do you realize how spoiled you sound right now?” Heeseung snorted, looking up from his phone where he was playing Cookie Run from the umpteenth time. You swore he was addicted to the game despite the numerous times he told you he was just playing it as a joke. Your best friend continued, “You should be happy for your mom instead of complaining about your summer being ruined.”

You sank back in your seat. You hated to admit it, but Heeseung was right; you were being uptight about this whole situation. You just couldn’t help but feel disappointed about the one thing you were looking forward to all year long.

Heeseung leaned closer so that you both were shoulder-to-shoulder, and he nudged you. You looked over and were met with his dazzling grin. Frankly, you were honored that you were graced with his attention in the middle of his Cookie Run gaming session.

“You can spend the summer with me instead,” he offered.

You snorted. “That was gonna happen, anyway. You spend all your free time at my place.”

“Why wouldn’t I?” Heeseung asked, brows knitting into a frown.

He looked at you so intensely that your breath caught in your throat for a moment. The proximity coupled with the shift in tone made you feel self-conscious, and you were scared that Heeseung was going to let some unspoken feeling slip.

However, his face broke into a mischievous grin. “You guys have a jacuzzi.”

You pressed your lips into a thin line and shoved him harder. This time, Heeseung was laughing as he fell against one of the cushions on his side. You grabbed one of the throw pillows and started pummeling him with it.

“You have your own jacuzzi, too, dumbass,” you retorted. “You’d know if you actually stayed at your own house for once! Also, you’ve lost your pool privileges here after you poured bubble bath in ours.”

“Come on. It wasn’t that bad.”

“You clogged our jets and we had to pay someone to get rid of the bubbles, Heeseung.”

“Jake was the one who poured the bubble bath in!”

“And who was the one who gave him the idea?”

Heeseung grimaced, and you were seconds away from reminding him how you took the fall for him when your parents asked what happened to the hot tub. Before you could, though, he spoke up.

“I was being serious, though,” he started, “do you wanna have a fun summer with me, or do you wanna stay bitter and do nothing?”

Something about Heeseung’s condescending tone was pissing you off. You stared at him before delivering one last blow with the throw pillow.

“Ow! What was that for?!” he exclaimed, rubbing his arm. You rolled your eyes at his dramatics; you didn’t even hit him that hard.

“I’ll see you later,” you told him, turning on your heel to head upstairs without seeing your friend out. “I have plans with Yizhuo now.”

You weren’t exactly sure how you became friends with Ning Yizhuo, but throughout high school, everyone knew the two of you came in a package deal. When you were in third period AP World History, everyone knew that Yizhuo would switch out of her second period section to be in your class; when you didn’t show up to calculus, it was no surprise that it was because you were ditching with Yizhuo; when Zhong Chenle asked Yizhuo out, he realized that commitment came with becoming your friend as well.

At first, you assumed that it was because your mothers were close, but that didn’t explain why you spent countless nights at her place and picked her up for school every single morning. Heeseung even once admitted that he was jealous of your friendship with her. He was drunk when he mentioned that, of course. He would never admit to that while he was sober.

When she got into a school on the west coast and you got into a school on the east coast, though, you thought your life was over. (When you figured out your meet-up plans were somewhat manageable, you felt a little better.)

On the bright side, you were stoked to attend Yale with your partner-in-crime, Heeseung.

“Wait! Let me drive you,” said partner-in-crime offered.

You turned to face him, wide-eyed. “It’s like a thirty minute drive, Heeseung. I’m going to her country club.”

Despite your protests, you knew that Heeseung would be more than willing to drive all the way over there. Hell, you could tell him you wanted to go to Las Vegas right now, and he’d somehow manage to arrange a trip for you two. You had never met anyone as spontaneous as him.

Now, though, you were trying to get away from him because you were a little bitter about his comment. On the other hand, you really didn’t want to drive alone, so you kept his proposition on the table.

“Oh, her country club? The one up north, right?” he inquired. “Can I bring Jake, too? We’ll just hang out at the mall while you do your thing.”

You mulled it over—not for long, though, because you found yourself caving easily. “Fine.”

You forgot that Heeseung bringing Jake meant that Jay and Sunghoon were coming along for the ride, too.

The three of them were squeezed in the back of Heeseung’s Tesla, with Jay incessantly complaining about how he had to take the middle seat. He even went as far as to compare heights, and Sunghoon used his one centimeter on Jay to his advantage. Jake remained silent for once.

You ran your finger along the smooth leather of your seat and snorted.

“Are you making fun of my car?” Heeseung asked with a chuckle.

“No, I’m making fun of how you dropped extra money for white seats.”

“And for the seven-seater.”

“What?!” Jay exclaimed, swiveling in his seat to look behind him. “And you still squeezed me in the middle seat?”

“Not my fault you didn’t look behind you, dude.”

Sunghoon and Jake proceeded to laugh at their friend, and you were about to do the same until you realized you had looked to see if Heeseung was laughing along with you. To your delight, he was. That, and the wind was blowing in his hair so perfectly. The golden sun shone across his face in a way that made his eyes crinkle up and his smile grow. You would always scold him for not having sunglasses on him, but, this time, you were a little distracted by how he glowed.

Heeseung then turned to you, one hand on the steering wheel and the other on his thigh. “What’s up?”

“N-nothing at all.” You coughed, tearing your gaze away to look ahead at the freeway. “Are we almost there?”

You just then registered how the backseat had gotten awfully silent, and when you turned to check on The Three Idiots (you deemed this title upon them back in high school, and it stuck), they all had Cheshire grins spread across their faces. It was a little scary, honestly. Their antics were nightmarish on their own, but what their eyes suggested was something that would haunt you. You fought down the heat creeping up your cheeks in an effort to appear indifferent, and you turned back to look at the GPS.

Ten minutes. You had to deal with them for ten more minutes. That was 600 seconds. Maybe you could tune out the testosterone if you counted down your arrival time.

To your relief, though, ten minutes passed by much faster because the four boys got into a heated argument over the superior boba shop in the Bay Area. You had to interject by reminding them that none of them were even from the Bay Area. Heeseung wound up going on a tangent about how he and Choi Yeonjun went on a day trip last weekend, which you would have remembered “if you were a better friend.”

You did remember, actually. Heeseung was texting you the entire time about Yeonjun forcing him to choose between him or a PS5. You presumed that Heeseung chose the PS5 because Yeonjun posted a black screen on his Snapchat story with the caption “dhmu” followed by a wilting rose and broken heart emoji.

(They wound up gaming all night afterward, anyway.)

The Three Idiots sensed tension from the back seat, so they started a new debate: the superior boba shop in Los Angeles.

You couldn’t believe that this was the depth of their conversations.

When you finally arrived at Yizhuo’s country club, you were being nagged by Sunghoon to get out of the car. He was eager to go to the mall and try out a new sushi place that everyone had been raving about. For someone who seemed to lack any seriousness, Sunghoon was extremely diligent about his frequent Yelp reviews; he even got promoted to the Yelp Elite Squad.

“Alright, alright, I’m going!” you complained, shooting Heeseung a withering look—a please save me from your friends, which he grinned at. “Bye, then.”

“Have fun, princess,” Heeseung called as you were closing the door, and you were grateful your back was turned so that he couldn’t see the look on your face.

(“Princess?” Jay questioned. “Did you just call her princess?”

“It’s an inside joke!” Heeseung rebuked.

“And were you just checking her out?” came Jake’s muffled voice from inside the car, and a bark of laughter followed immediately after from Sunghoon and Jay.)

You shook your head when Heeseung sped off as quickly as possible. You could picture it so vividly; he would be defending himself to his dying breath, cheeks bright red as his mouth ran. Although you found it funny, you knew that Heeseung was probably just glancing out the window to make sure you weren’t too close to the car before he drove away.

“Y/N!” Yizhuo called from the entrance. You turned to see her clad in a cotton shirt and tennis skirt, standing next to Zhong Chenle. “Did you think we were swimming or something?”

Yes, you most definitely did think you were going to be sunbathing by the poolside. With a sheer cover-up over your black one-piece, you were definitely not ready to play tennis with Yizhuo and her boyfriend. You even had your red heart-shaped sunglasses on your head.

You let out a petulant whine, taking your walk of shame over to the two. “I’m already in the racquet club, so why would I come here to play more tennis?”

Yizhuo shrugged, but the one thing you loved about her was that she was flexible with plans. “I’ll just change into my swimsuit, then. I’ve been wanting to sunbathe,” she said before handing Chenle her racquet. “Looks like doubles didn’t work out. Are you and Jisung good with playing singles?”

“I don’t mind as long as I win,” Chenle answered with a grin. “See you two later.”

He was clearly delighted because you were probably the only competition he had to worry about. You were sure Park Jisung would complain when he found out that you weren’t going to be his partner. Jisung was utterly hopeless when it came to tennis—or, rather, he was scared of anything flying in his direction.

Yizhuo grabbed her Prada leather tote bag, pulling out a white two-piece with a gold clip in the front after some digging. She excused herself to change quickly, and came back within five minutes. You were grateful she came prepared. For her, though, it was inevitable considering she drove thirty minutes most days to lounge around her country club with Chenle.

“They’re renovating the banquet room right now,” Yizhuo informed as she settled into the lounge chair next to yours. “I was going to invite you for the opening next week, but you’re gonna be in the Bahamas, as usual.”

“Yeah, about that,” you drawled, “vacation plans fell through, so I’m not going anymore.”

“What?” Yizhuo sat up, startling the server who brought over cocktails on a silver plate. “But you always go to the Bahamas!”

You gingerly took one of the cocktail glasses, mouthing your gratitude before turning your attention back to Yizhuo. “My parents wanna spend their honeymoon alone, and Heeseung thinks I’m acting spoiled.”

Yizhuo smirked against the rim of her glass. “How is it that Heeseung always manages to come up in our conversations?”

“He doesn’t!” you exclaimed. “He’s just always around, you know? Like a fruit fly.”

“Just like how Chenle’s always around?”

“Chenle’s your boyfriend; Heeseung’s just a gnat.”

“I’m telling you, Y/N, you and Heeseung are the dictionary definition of couple behavior. I swear, you two are meant for each other.”

You sighed. “Heeseung and I have been best friends since, like, forever. Our relationship is just… different from my other friendships.”

Yizhuo raised a brow, a coy smile still creeping across her face. “So how come you refer to everyone else as friendships, but with him it’s a relationship?”

“Psychoanalyze much?” You sent a mocking smile right back at her. “Can I not have a friend of the opposite gender anymore?”

“You can have one that doesn’t make heart eyes at you,” Yizhuo replied with a scoff. “I’m telling you, the guy’s head over heels.”

“Whatever.” You slipped your sunglasses down to rest on the bridge of your nose. You didn’t want to think about potential romantic feelings for your best friend that could threaten the stability of your life-long friendship. “Let’s circle back to what’s actually important: my summer.”

“Poor Heeseung.” Yizhuo tutted. “Bahamas over love.”

“Love can happen any time,” you said, “but the window of opportunity only opens once, and that golden period is the summer between high school and college. Think about it, Yizhuo! Every summer after this one is gonna be loaded with classes, internships, and work.”

“So, what’s your game plan?”

You pondered on her question. There were only so many options you had, and, clearly, going to the Bahamas was not one of them. Honestly, you hardly felt like a real Californian with the little knowledge you had about what you could even do around your area; all you could think about was the beach or Disneyland. Plus, with Yeji doing a summer program in Irvine and Yizhuo spending her days at her country club, you didn’t have much room for spontaneous activities with them.

Unless you wanted to spend every single day like you would on a regular weekend, you had to find someone who knew how to make things fun.

And, unfortunately, that narrowed it back down to Lee Heeseung.

You turned back to Yizhuo with a sheepish look on your face. “I think I have an idea.”

“Be my summer escort service.”

“Excuse me?” Heeseung nearly choked on the tea your mother made for him. You watched as he set the cup down as delicately as possible while his eyes welled up with tears. He hit his fist against his chest a few times before calming down. “I don’t think you know what an escort service entails, but I think I know what you’re getting at.” He grinned slowly. “You’re taking me up on my offer.”

You did a lot of thinking on the car ride back to Bel Air.

A lot of thinking during the time when Sunghoon wasn’t complaining about the quality of the sushi place they went to. You were almost inspired to write a negative review yourself because of how passionate he was.

“Well, it’s inevitable that I’m gonna be seeing you almost every day, anyway,” you said, “so we might as well make the most of it, right?”

“I knew you’d turn around.” Heeseung reached over and ruffled your hair. “I’ll make sure you have the best summer of your life, Y/N.”

Lee Heeseung excelled at virtually anything. You were sure he would surpass your expectations with these impromptu summer plans, too.

You deemed the nickname “Golden Boy” upon him for this very reason, and it had everything to do with the fact that Heeseung was absolutely perfect at everything he did.

For a while, you even coined a theory that he had been created in a laboratory, specially designed to be absolutely flawless in every way imaginable. Of course Heeseung was born rich, smart, and handsome. Some people were just born lucky into the world, and, when you were younger, it was harder to accept that. Heeseung grew up with the world at his disposal; he got everything and anything he wanted, but that didn’t necessarily mean he took his privilege for granted.

You had to admit that Heeseung was a hard worker when it came down to it. Although he was definitely affluent as a fourth generation trust fund baby, Heeseung made sure his parents were never disappointed with his results.

Throughout high school, he consistently ranked first every single year, always coming right above you after the semester ended. Not to mention, he had even been scouted by several Division 1 schools to join their soccer team. He was even published at the mere age of sixteen for the research he did with a college professor. And, with a face and personality like his, any reasonable mother would’ve loved for their daughter to bring Heeseung home for dinner.

Another thing he never failed to accomplish was making you absolutely flustered.

“Well…” You turned your cheek. “I always have fun when I hang out with you, so don’t let it get to your head.”

“Too late. It’s getting to my head.”

You groaned.

“Hey, we might as well have fun,” Heeseung tried. “It’s not like any of us are vicariously living through each other’s summer romances.”

“Whoa. You said ‘each other.’”

“Yeah?”

You shot him a questioning look. “You’re implying that you have a summer romance that I’m not allowed to live vicariously through.”

“What? No!” Heeseung frowned as he tried to do the mental gymnastics to piece together your reasoning. “I said—actually, you know what, it doesn’t matter what I said. Who cares about being cuffed? Let’s just enjoy the last moments of our youth.”

“You know what, you’re right,” you agreed, getting fired up just by his words. Maybe it was the realization that time was fleeting, but you were determined to have the best summer ever now. “This summer, I’m Percy and you’re Grover. No one’s getting in the way of our side quests.”

“Why do I have to be the half-barnyard animal sidekick?” Heeseung deadpanned. “Can’t I be Annabeth?”

“No, put some respect on a satyr’s title.”

Your best friend picked his cup of tea back up when it had cooled. He blew gently on the surface before taking a careful sip, and then confidently drank more afterward. He set his cup down again and held a finger up, signaling that he wanted a chance to speak again. You were half-expecting it to be about the damn Percy Jackson lore.

“Your parents leave soon, right?” he asked instead. You nodded in response, somewhat surprised about his inquiry, so Heeseung continued, “Do they need a ride to the airport? We could have a sleepover after.”

“I think—”

“We would love a ride to the airport, Heeseung,” your mother gushed from the staircase as she was lugging suitcases down, “but you’re going straight back to your house after taking my daughter home.”

Heeseung swallowed thickly. “O-of course, ma’am. Straight home.”

You pouted a little. “You’re not staying?”

He smirked a little at your reaction, and you were a little flustered and disappointed that you managed to inflate his ego even further.

“Nah, I’ll just—” Heeseung cut himself off quickly when he noticed your mother was suddenly towering behind where he was seated on your couch. “I’ll—I’ll go straight to my house, like I said.”

“Come on, let the kids spend some time together before college,” your stepfather chimed in, following suit with a suitcase of his own. “Y/N hardly ever gets to stay in LA for the summer.”

“We’re going to the same college, Dad,” you pointed out.

“Of course,” He walked over to ruffle your hair, and Heeseung stared up at him as if your stepfather was some respected higher power, “but you never know what could happen in college. People grow apart whether you like it or not, and the life of a college student gets busy, so you two might as well enjoy this summer.”

When all you could do was stare at your stepfather in horror, he added, “I’m not saying you’re gonna stop being friends! It’s just easier to spend time together now than it is in college.”

“That’s why I’m your daughter’s escort this summer,” Heeseung spoke up.

“Escort?” your stepfather pressed. “That’s… a little concerning. Keep it PG, you two.”

“It’s not like that!” you whined. “Anyway, Dad, don’t you have to get to the airport soon?”

He checked his watch quickly and nodded at your mother. “Y/N’s right. We should get going soon, honey. I’m gonna go make sure I didn’t forget to pack anything.”

With that, your stepfather jogged upstairs with Heeseung’s curious eyes following him suspiciously. When you nudged him, trying to figure out why he was mugging your dad for no reason, he grinned a little. He gestured for you to lean closer so that he could speak quietly.

You leaned in close so that your ear was by his lips, and Heeseung whispered, “He’s totally packing your mom’s honeymoon present.”

“How do you know?”

“Classic move. My brother did the same thing for his wife.”

You pulled away, covering your mouth with a shocked look on your face. You had to keep yourself from audibly gasping since your mother was only a room away. Your face broke into a little smile. Seeing someone care for your mother so deeply made you so happy, especially with how she was the one who usually put in the most effort in her past relationships.

All your life, you wanted a relationship that was the complete opposite of your mother’s; now, though, you aspired to find someone who loved you that much.

Speak of the devil. She was walking over as you and Heeseung exchanged mischievous grins.

“What’re you two smiling about?” she asked.

“Nothing!” You smiled and fixed her hair. “Have fun on your honeymoon, Mom. I’ll make sure Heeseung doesn’t get into trouble.”

“Hey!” Heeseung interjected. “I’m not even that bad! Honest-to-god, Jake’s worse than me—just ask Jay or Sunghoon. Actually, don’t ask Sunghoon because I think he has it out for me right now.” He paused before adding, “Now that I think about it, don’t ask Jay, either. Just trust me on this one.”

You scoffed. “Nice going, Hee.”

Your mother smiled, and you could tell that it was a little sad. “We’ll take you to the Bahamas next time, okay, Y/N?” She did a quick sweep of the room before leaning in a little and whispering, “By the way, your stepfather was really happy that you started calling him ‘dad’ the other day. I think he almost cried!”

You hated to admit it out loud, but you felt inexplicably happy at those words.

“I’m ready!” your stepfather called as he came down the stairs. “Do you have everything you need? Are we ready to go?”

“Ready as ever,” your mother answered and turned to your best friend. “Are you ready, Heeseung?”

“Yep.” He got up from the couch, spinning his car keys around his fingers. “Come on, Y/N. Time to say bye-bye to mommy and—ow! Don’t hit me!”

The car ride to the airport wasn’t too long, but you and Heeseung fell into an uncomfortable silence while your parents were gushing about their vacation plans to each other. They weren’t even sitting next to each other. Your mother sat next to you in the back seat and your stepfather sat in the passenger’s seat to accompany Heeseung, but they were still going back and forth. You nearly considered asking your stepfather to switch seats with you so that you wouldn’t be caught in the crossfire of their incessant flirting.

When Heeseung pulled up to the drop-off zone, however, your parents pulled themselves together in record time. You received two kisses on your head from each parent after they got out of the car.

“Heeseung, let’s walk together for a bit,” your stepfather called. When you exchanged a shocked look with your best friend, your dad clicked his tongue with a laugh. “Just until the gates over there. I need some help carrying my bags.”

Heeseung, floundering for words, wound up not saying anything and scrambled to get out of the car to help him out. The conversation seemed to be light and easygoing, but you were craning your neck out of the car window to get a glimpse of what the hell was going on.

“Mom,” you whispered harshly, “tell me Dad isn’t telling Heeseung something weird right now. He’s still traumatized from the time he was interrogated about being my Homecoming date last year.”

Since neither you nor Heeseung had actual dates for the Homecoming dance last year, he made you a poster and asked you to be his date at your doorstep. At the time, you two were binge watching Parks and Recreation together, so he used that as inspiration for your poster: Please don’t REC my plans and say KNOPE to Homecoming. You vividly recalled being impressed by how neat the handwriting was only to be told later that Yeji helped Heeseung make it.

“I’m sure it’s nothing.” Your mother waved it off. “You should be more worried about how Mrs. Lee calls us in the middle of the night and asks where her son is. That’s gonna traumatize your friend.”

Wow. Lee Heeseung was already a pain in the ass to begin with, and only now you realized how his mother had it a thousand times harder.

“Have a safe trip, okay?” you told your mother after you helped her bring the rest of her bags to the gate. “And—don’t worry—I know when the gardener's coming by, so I’ll be home to let him in.”

She smiled fondly and kissed your forehead. “I’ll text you when I land,” she said. “Have fun, sweetheart, but not too much fun.”

“Mom!” you complained, cringing at whatever she was implying.

Heeseung and your stepfather were already at the front doors, and your best friend’s eyes lit up at the sight of you. You wondered if he needed saving from your father, and you confirmed this when you noticed him cower a little after shaking your stepfather’s hand.

“Heeseung,” your mother started, “thanks for bringing us here. I made brownies in the afternoon, so make sure Y/N gives you some before you go home.”

“Brownies?” Heeseung turned to you with a grin and thanked your mother profusely. “I hope you guys have a fun trip.”

After you all exchanged goodbyes, you and Heeseung headed back to his car. You were able to watch your mother and stepfather disappear into the crowd, a strange feeling lingering in your chest. You weren’t sure what it was, but you supposed you felt a little lonely. This was the first summer you were spending without your parents, and you weren’t sure what to expect.

As if Heeseung could read your mind, he said, “Don’t worry. I’ll make sure you have a fun summer.”

“It better be the best summer of my life.”

Heeseung laughed and opened the passenger’s side door for you. “Then let’s start now.”

“Huh? Right now?”

“Let’s get bingsu,” he said. Come to think of it, you were craving shaved ice; you had mentioned it to Heeseung last week. “You said you were hungry, right? And then we can go home and dig into those brownies your mom made.”

“I never said anything about being hungry.”

“But you’re hungry, right?”

The corner of your mouth twitched before breaking into a little smile.

“Alright, let’s go.”

In all honesty, you didn’t expect anything special from Heeseung. That was why you had your own plans laid out for the coming week, and first on your agenda was going shopping with Yizhuo in Beverly Hills. Since your best friend was so adamant on spending the summer with you, though, you let him tag along.

“I hate you,” he muttered through gritted teeth as you handed him yet another shopping bag—Armani, this time. Heeseung was carrying at least six of them, letting them dangle off of his arms. “I said I’d show you how to have fun, not be your butler.”

“You said you would be my summer escort service.”

“Not like this!”

“Y/N, I swear,” Yizhuo started in a low voice, only loud enough to hear (although you wished you didn’t), “he’s like your boyfriend.”

You sped up to walk ahead of Heeseung, and Yizhuo matched your pace. Your poor best friend was lagging in the back, trying to keep up with the weight of your spending spree in his hands. Even though you told him virtually everything, this was a conversation that you couldn’t let him hear.

“He’s just my escort this summer!” you defended.

“His dad’s the senior vice president at Apple. You really think Lee Heeseung would just agree to be anyone’s manservant?”

“Well, I’m not anyone; I’m Y/N, and Heeseung and I have been best friends since forever, so it shouldn’t be surprising that he wants to spend time with me.”

“I’m just saying, it’s a little strange.”

“Yeah, yeah.” You waved off her concerns and pulled out your phone. “By the way, is the group hanging out tomorrow or something?”

“I kept seeing it in the groupchat, but I wasn’t sure whose house it was at,” Yizhuo replied. She turned and called, “Heeseung! Do you know whose house we’re all going to?”

“Tomorrow?” he asked.

“Yeah.”

“Mine.”

“Yours?” you chimed in. “I thought Jake said it would be at his place.”

“He backed out ‘cause his cousins are visiting this week,” he clarified, “so I offered mine. My parents are going out of town, anyway, so why not?”

You were surprised that Heeseung was willing to host. Most of the time his house was the absolute last resort because he hated cleaning up after everyone. For this reason, it was normally at Jake’s house because he was the only one who would tidy up himself without nagging everyone else (read: Jay Park).

You always went to Heeseung’s place on your own. There were never times where the entire group hung out there together, so it felt like everyone was encroaching on your space with Heeseung.

Even though it was his house, technically.

“You’re coming,” Heeseung added, pointing straight at you with narrowed eyes.

You frowned. “You can’t decide that for me!”

“You agreed to let me be your summer escort service, so it’s within my power,” he argued.

You made a frustrated sound. “Fine. It better be fun, though. I’m sacrificing my Pretty Little Liars marathon for you.”

Heeseung rolled his eyes. “We can just watch it together.”

“Lovebirds!” Yizhuo interjected. “I would’ve called Chenle if I knew I was gonna be a third wheel.” Both of you turned to her with wide eyes, watching the blonde’s lips curl up in a small smirk. “What?”

“That’s not what any of this is,” your best friend grumbled.

“Oh yeah? Then why are you blushing?”

Heeseung shook his head, completely turning his face away from you. You managed to catch the tips of his ears flaming bright red. It was rather easy to make Heeseung flustered, so this wasn’t something out of the ordinary, but, for some reason, you felt butterflies in the pit of your stomach.

He walked ahead, saying something along the lines of, “Let’s just keep shopping!”

You and Yizhuo exchanged a look before hooking arms and bursting into a fit of giggles.

Yizhuo called after him, “We’re going to Miu Miu next!”

Slumber parties with your friend group sounded cute and tame, in theory. Add six men into the mix, and they became slightly terrifying.

“This is why we need to make plans in our group chat without the men,” Shen Xiaoting muttered to you with her eyes fixed on Heeseung’s flat screen TV. “This is not the girls night I was envisioning.”

Your friend group of eleven (excluding Yeji, who was away for the summer) was currently playing their ninth round of Mario Kart 8. You were all taking turns, though, since the game only catered to co-oping with four people. Frankly, you were starting to get tired of the game after about five rounds. You were hellbent on beating Jay, who was talking smack about how terrible you were at gaming, but it turned out that he was no better. You ended up beating him in the first race itself, and now you were just waiting for them to wrap it up.

“Fuck,” Jake hissed once Choi Beomgyu used his blue shell on him. Jake had been consistently winning every game he played despite everyone trying to get him in last place; in the last round, Kim Minjeong made a valiant effort to use most of her Crazy 8 items on him.

You were surprised that Jake showed up in the first place. Everyone suspected that he would be stuck at home because of his cousins visiting, but he somehow managed to get his way out of it. Although he was late, he showed up at Heeseung’s door with a pillow and a handle of cheap vodka. It probably tasted rancid, but there was no room for anyone to complain.

“Get the item box, get the item box!” Chenle yelled. “But you’re kind of screwed if you don’t get a super horn or a super star.”

“So, when are we wrapping up Mario Kart?” Nakamura Kazuha asked, sighing in frustration after being hit with a shell for the umpteeth time.

“Uh, after this game,” Heeseung replied.

“And how many more rounds is that?”

“Three.”

“Jesus Christ.”

The only girl in your group who enjoyed gaming was Yizhuo, but even she was tired of the seemingly endless rounds. Since the boys were going along with the girls’ plans later on, though, you had to be patient. Appease them with Mario Kart, and then the rest of the night was yours.

Somehow, you managed to grit your teeth and sit through the next three rounds (won by Jake, Yizhuo, and Beomgyu, respectively). Afterward, Jake got up to grab the case of Mike’s Harder on the kitchen island. He proceeded to open it up and hand each person a can.

Xiaoting cracked open her can and asked, “How’d you even buy these? Didn’t your dad confiscate your fake or something?”

Around a few months ago, Jake’s dad had caught him wasted at one of their charity galas. Apparently, the Sims didn’t care too much about their son drinking, but they were furious about Jake acting disorderly in front of their guests. Naturally, Jake was grounded for a month and got all four of his fake IDs confiscated. He deeply missed the one from Connecticut where his name was printed as Nathan Fielder, even though Jake looked nothing like Nathan Fielder.

“I got Vernon to buy them for me,” Jake said, “and please don’t remind me about the fakes. It still wounds me to this day.”

You remembered you used to have a little crush on Vernon Chwe, who was a senior when you were a freshman. When he graduated, you almost cried actual tears, but you stayed strong when you went to congratulate him after the ceremony. You figured he would have been a little freaked out if you started breaking down out of nowhere.

Jay, who was inspecting the handle of SKYY Vodka, let out a scoff. “Vernon? Then you could’ve at least asked for good vodka.”

“We can just make mixed drinks,” you spoke up, scrunching up your nose at the memory of blacking out because of alcohol during your prom afterparties. “Plus, it’s not like we’re actually trying to get drunk tonight.”

“Yeah.” Heeseung stood up and rested his arm on your shoulder. “Y/N and I can make the drinks. The rest of you can help put snacks out. Someone can put a movie on, too.”

Since everyone was impressed with Heeseung taking the lead for once, the plan was set into motion. While Kazuha and Sunghoon bickered over which movie to play, the rest of your friends brought out different snacks for the movie. Arguably, you and Heeseung had the hardest job, but you didn’t need any extra hands for drinks. By the time it took you two to finish eleven mixed drinks, they probably would have settled on a movie.

You looked back to see Heeseung eyeballing a shot into a glass cup, and then he proceeded to down its contents. You cringed when you saw him drinking. The last time he got drunk resulted in you trying to calm him down after he went on a long rant about how he just ate sushi, and the alcohol in his system would cause the raw fish to start swimming. You had to convince him that no, vodka would not bring an already dead and sliced-up fish to life.

Heeseung’s face soured and he pushed the handle aside. “Y’know what, let’s just take something from my parents’ liquor cabinet. This shit is vile.”

“You got triple sec and decent vodka?” you asked. “We could make Lemon Drops.”

“You read my mind.”

“You weren’t even thinking about that, were you?”

“Not at all.”

While you and Heeseung were making the drinks, though, you noticed some giggles coming from the living room. You raised your head to see about five of your friends look away as fast as they could. It hit you before you had time to process what was going on; they were making fun of you and Heeseung together.

You had no clue why. Sure, Heeseung and you had some strange moments here and there. But you two were just making drinks, for crying out loud. Nothing about the situation warranted this reaction from them.

You side-eyed Heeseung to see if he noticed. Thankfully, he was just focused on pouring the right amount of vodka so he didn’t accidentally kill anyone. You, on the other hand, were fighting down the heat rising in your chest.

After a brief war between you and Yizhuo, consisting of you glaring at her and her smirking at you, you ended up setting down a glass and sighing.

“Heeseung,” you said, “go crazy with the vodka in the rest of their drinks.”

“Huh?” he asked, genuinely contemplating whether or not to do it.

“Pour as much as your heart desires,” you muttered and set down six of the Lemon Drops on a tray with a little too much force. Without sparing him a glance, you picked up the tray and went to the living room to hand everyone their glasses. While you handed Yizhuo hers, though, you whispered, “I despise you.”

She grinned. “What? Still denying you like him?”

“I don’t like—”

“You like someone?” Heeseung called from the island, completely frozen in place.

You turned and stared at him, mouth agape.

Chenle spoke up, “No, she likes y—”

You kicked Chenle’s shin with enough force to shut him up, and he grunted before he could continue his sentence. Satisfied, you turned back to Heeseung and shook your head quickly.

“They’re just being idiots,” you explained. “Hurry up with the drinks. We’re watching My Best Friend’s Wedding.” You did a double take and turned back to Yizhuo, harshly whispering, “Why the fuck are we watching My Best Friend’s Wedding?!”

Yizhuo removed Chenle’s hand from her knee and stood up to loop your arm with hers. “Come.”

“Where are we going?” you asked, but she was already dragging you away from the living room. “Is that movie supposed to be some sort of sick message?”

“Oh, good. So you’re aware.”

After making some excuse about needing your assistance to get something from her bag, Yizhuo walked with you to the foyer until she turned on you. You nearly tripped backward over one of the boys’ shoes, so you used the wall to regain your balance.

“Tell me what’s going on between you two,” she ordered.

You let out a sound of exasperation. “Yizhuo, for the last time, Heeseung and I are just friends. That’s all there is to it.”

“I’m just saying, the two of you are going to college together and all, but you have to sort out your feelings before you end up figuring them out after Heeseung finds someone else,” she said. “I mean, what’re you gonna do when Heeseung starts dating someone else? He looks decent enough to pull, so there’s no telling what’s gonna happen when he’s cut loose in Yale.”

You snorted. “He’s already cut loose. I highly doubt Yale’s gonna change anything.”

“You never know. I just don’t want you to realize your feelings too late—you know, when things get messy.”

You both were silent for a few seconds before Beomgyu called, “Y/N, Yizhuo, we’re gonna start the movie!”

“Coming!” you responded.

You chose not to respond to your best friend because you truly had no idea what to think, but it did leave seeds of doubt in your head. It almost distracted you from the fact that Heeseung grabbed your arm and pulled you to sit down next to him. This was bad; you were quickly becoming overly self-conscious of every little thing he did, and that would not bode well for your friendship.

Whatever, you told yourself. Push it down.

“Are there any more pillows?” you asked, scanning the room to see that everyone seemed to have one except you. You looked back at Heeseung and narrowed your eyes at his throw pillow. “Give me yours.”

“What? No way.”

“I wanna lay down,” you whined. He was really the only person you could act a little spoiled around. “Give me your pillow before I—”

Before you could finish, Heeseung threw his arm around you and pushed your head down so that you were laying on his lap. You were startled with the sudden gesture, but you didn’t complain. He was comfortable, after all, and you two usually watched movies like this in your house. So, you adjusted your position a little and continued watching the movie, making a mental note to scold Heeseung later for being all touchy in front of the friend group.

What you weren’t used to, though, was the way he started threaded his fingers through your hair.

You did the only thing you knew how to do in order to deflect; you showed Heeseung a TikTok of a baby otter. Your volume was all the way down, but you still bookmarked the video.

“Look,” you whispered, holding up your phone. His gentle fingers did not stop running through your hair, but at least you could hold onto his friendly hum of acknowledgement. It was the only thing that made any of this feel remotely platonic. “It’s a little guy.”

“Oh, it’s so cute,” Heeseung mused. “Kind of reminds me of you.”

Screw platonic.

He just grabbed platonic and drop kicked it to the next dimension.

That was it. You were going to put your phone away and ignore Heeseung for the rest of the movie. The rest of the movie would be watched in complete silence. In fact, you weren’t going to spare Heeseung any attention for the rest of the sleepover.

That didn’t end up happening, though. Ten minutes later, you cracked and started commenting about the movie to Heeseung. Unbeknownst to the others, you two ended up texting each other messages that threatened to make you burst into laughter. Even though you were sitting right next to each other, you felt like this made your conversation feel like a little secret, like even Heeseung wanted to keep what you two had to himself.

When the movie ended, you two were surprisingly still awake, although there were several moments where you were tempted to doze off on Heeseung’s shoulder. Minjeong, Beomgyu, and Jay were still up, and they were taking pictures of Chenle and Yizhuo to send to the group chat. You immediately separated from Heeseung, feeling a little terrified that you two would be the victims next. However, the others were so preoccupied with Chenle’s arms wrapped around his sleeping girlfriend and their foreheads pressed together.

“Should we wake them up?” Kazuha asked.

“Nah, let them sleep,” Heeseung answered and stood up. “I’m gonna brush my teeth. You guys can use the other bathrooms—just not the one in my parents’ room.”

Minjeong stretched as she let out a yawn. “Alright, I’m gonna wash up, then. I’m exhausted.”

After Minjeong, Beomgyu, and Kazuha left the room to get their bags and wash up, you stared at Heeseung. Your best friend looked confused until you pointed toward his glass.

“Chug it,” you said with mischief dancing in your eyes.

“You’re kidding. It’s bedtime.”

You mocked a pout. “You’re gonna waste the drink I made just for you?”

“Oh, come on—we made it for everyone!”

“But I definitely made this one.” You took the glass and held it out to him, which he ended up taking reluctantly. “I wanna see you finish it.”

After a wince, Heeseung tilted the cup back and downed the contents. Although his face scrunched up, he relaxed once he had finished swallowing it down.

“That was actually pretty good,” he said.

“See? When have I ever let you down?”

“Honestly? Many times.”

You elbowed him in the side. “Hey!”

“Kidding!” Heeseung held his arms up in surrender before wrapping them around your waist. Another gesture you weren’t quite used to, but you went along with it. There was something funny about Heeseung; nothing he did ever made you feel the slightest bit uncomfortable, but sometimes you weren’t sure if it was meant to be friendly. “Let’s go brush our teeth.”

“I can just use the bathroom on the second floor.”

“Huh? Just use the one in my room,” he said. “Come on.”

You hesitated before following your best friend upstairs. First of all, you were feeling overly-conscious about going into Heeseung’s room with him. Secondly, you weren’t too enthusiastic about the fact that you had to use a man’s bathroom.

To Heeseung’s credit, he kept his room and bathroom mostly spotless. Sure, there were a few sweaters piled over the head of his chair and some books left scattered across his desk, but it was definitely cleaner than Jake’s mess of a room. You remembered Yeji stepping across his piles of dirty clothes left on the floor, as if they were hazardous to her health.

As soon as you stepped into the grand bathroom, you realized that you had forgotten your toothbrush. It wasn’t the first time this happened, so you knew to just take one of the unopened toothbrushes from the drawer. However, Heeseung told you they moved some things around, so you wound up searching for the spare toothbrushes for around five minutes.

It was almost ridiculous how Heeseung needed a bathroom bigger than a living room.

You two brushed your teeth side-by-side. Heeseung occasionally cracked jokes that made you giggle and tilt your head back so that your toothpaste wouldn’t dribble down your chin. When that happened, he reached over and wiped your lower lip with his thumb, despite your complaints about how gross that was.

But, to you, it wasn’t really all that gross.

If only Heeseung knew how his actions made your cheeks burn hot under your skin.

The next week was interesting, to say the least.

Heeseung wouldn’t let you rest for a second. You were going out with him every single day, having to see his face from sunrise to sunset. Even when it was nightfall, he would just invite himself over to your place and crash on your couch.

You pointed out that you had a perfectly tidy guest room for him to use, but he insisted that he preferred your couch. You didn’t mind him sprawled out across the cushions because you could take as many pictures of him sleeping as you pleased. You would show him your collection later when he woke up, and Heeseung would get embarrassed to the point of tickling you until you were in hysterics and gasping out that you would delete the pictures from your camera roll.

At this point, it was almost like you two were living together. Even though his parents were out of town, you felt slightly anxious about one of the adults in your parents’ circle discovering what you and Heeseung were up to. Not that it was anything scandalous.

But, you had to admit, you were having fun.

On Monday, Heeseung took you to the beach. You complained incessantly about waking up at six in the morning for cold water and sand all over your clothes, but you managed to drag yourself out of bed. Still, Heeseung had to put up with your grumbles and groans until you were energized enough to stop complaining. All it took was Heeseung feeding you a granola bar and making you coffee while you did your hair.

“C’mon,” he told you, the wind sweeping his hair to the side as the first rays of sunlight shone bright against his glowing skin, “this is exactly like the Bahamas if you close your eyes.”

“Uh-huh.”

You rolled your eyes at him, but you spent the entire day at the beach with Heeseung, anyway. You finally warmed up to going into the water with him, letting him take your hands and guide you deeper until the water was up to your waist. At one point, a particularly heavy wave pushed him closer to you until you both were chest-to-chest. You had to hold onto his bicep to keep yourself from floating away. And you swore you caught Heeseung checking you out in your bikini later on, but he turned away with pink-tinged ears immediately after.

Later, when the sun was starting to set and you retreated from the water to curl up in your towel, you sat on your large beach towel and waited for Heeseung to bring over food from the food trucks. The tide was getting higher, so you had to move yours and Heeseung’s belongings further up the sand.

Heeseung returned with two takeout boxes of tacos, taking a seat next to you with a relieved sigh. Since you two hadn’t eaten a proper lunch, you had been waiting for this meal all day. You were properly tuckered out from all the swimming and beach volleyball, so you dug in immediately.

“Good?” Heeseung asked, watching you eat with a small smile on his face. He must have been impressed that you practically inhaled your first taco in under five seconds.

“Good,” you confirmed, voice muffled.

With the back of your hand shielding your eyes, you looked off into the horizon to watch the sunlight ripple across the water’s surface.

And, yeah, maybe it was a little like the Bahamas.

Just a little.

You didn’t expect Heeseung to wake you up on Tuesday morning and drag you to an empty field. Although he told you that he had a surprise for you, you didn’t think it warranted being woken up at 5:30 a.m. without a clue of where you were going.

“Alright, close your eyes, okay? It’s a surprise,” Heeseung said, gesturing for you to cover your gaze. You found it adorable that he was fumbling so much, so you closed your eyes with a grin. “Keep them closed—hold on.”

“Heeseung, how much longer?” you whined.

“And,” he drawled, stretching out the syllable, “open!”

When you opened your eyes, towering over you was a 60-foot tall hot air balloon, its brightly-patterned nylon reflecting the bright sunlight. You boggled at its impressive size—absolutely massive. The pilot got down from the basket, walking over so that he could greet you two and provide a rundown of safety measures and procedures.

An hour later, you were in the sky, eyes sweeping over the expanse of Los Angeles. You were never that great with heights, but, somehow, you weren’t too afraid as you peered down. Heeseung stood beside you, keeping one hand on the small of your back as he pointed out different landmarks he recognized.

“I’ve never seen LA like this!” you yelled over the wind, cupping your hand around your mouth so that Heeseung could hear you.

He grinned. “Isn’t it beautiful? Makes the city actually feel peaceful for once.”

You wouldn’t dare admit it but, all the way up in the sky, thousands of feet above ground level, what made you feel like you were soaring was Heeseung’s arm slipping around your waist.

On Wednesday, Heeseung took you fishing. You absolutely hated the idea, but once you had the fishing rod in your hands, you were determined to catch the biggest fish. Heeseung ended up catching more than you, but the two fish you caught were stars in your eyes. By the end of the day, you were laughing hysterically as Heeseung’s hat got stuck in your hook and was flung into the water.

On Thursday, Heeseung took you to play mini-golf. You had gone golfing before with company executives and their kids, but this was different. You didn’t have to show off or try to be the best one there; you just had fun and laughed whenever your best friend missed the ball. You two ended the day by going to an arcade and playing almost every game inside.

By Friday morning, you were exhausted. Your limbs were aching when you woke up the next morning, but Heeseung promised to actually let you rest over the weekend. Tonight was Yizhuo’s country club’s party to celebrate the opening of their new banquet hall, so Heeseung only planned one thing for the morning so that you would have time to get ready for the party later.

Pushing your red Jacquemus sunglasses onto your head, you fixed your best friend with a puzzled stare. He was acting weird all morning, from nearly snapping at you for trying to open the trunk of his car, to staying silent when you asked where he was taking you.

For a moment, you wondered if this was the climax of a horror movie where the killer drove you to a quiet place to get rid of you. Your suspicion raised more when Heeseung parked by a marina with a hiking trail nearby.

This is where your body’s being dumped, you concluded grimly.

But, then again, this was Lee Heeseung. He cried when he was eleven because there was a spider on his backpack; he didn’t have the heart to hurt anyone, especially not you. In fact, you recalled when he nearly passed out in middle school because he thought he caused you extreme pain once. (It turned out to be your period cramps.)

“Are you gonna tell me where you’re taking me?” you asked, exasperated. “If we’re swimming, I’m gonna tell you right now that there’s no way I’m getting my hair wet before the party.”

Heeseung chuckled. “Don’t worry your pretty little head, princess. We’re just going for a spin on the lake.” He nodded his head in the direction of the yachts lined up by the shoreline. “Jog your memory?”

When your gaze landed on the gorgeous white yacht gleaming under the sun, you couldn’t help but gasp at its glorious sight. Heeseung had gotten the yacht for his birthday last year, but he never had the time to actually use it. One reason was because he didn’t trust his friends to not trash it, and the other being that he wanted his first ride on it to be special.

Your face burned. His first ride was going to be with you.

“Shut up.” You were gaping at the sight before turning to your best friend, who looked smug while he parked his car. “Shut up. You’re actually letting me go on your yacht?”

“Yeah, why not?” He tried to brush it off as something casual, but your heart was still doing cartwheels and flips. “It’s about time I went out on it.”

You two walked down to the harbor together, your hands sometimes shyly brushing and pulling away swiftly. There had been moments of thick, unspoken tension throughout the week, but you didn’t have the courage to bring it up.

Once you two reached Heeseung’s yacht, he firmly slapped his hand against the smooth, brilliant white surface. “Carver c52 Command Bridge,” he gloated. “Isn’t she beautiful?”

You snorted. “You talk about boats the same way old white men do.”

You allowed him to help you into the yacht, gripping his hand tight as you stepped onto the deck. You hadn’t questioned it before, but as soon as Heeseung let go of you, he set down the picnic basket so that he could spread out the blanket.

You helped him with the corners of the blanket. “What’s this?”

“Well, I thought we could sail out a little and then have breakfast on the deck,” he replied coolly, as if the sincerity of his words wouldn’t make your heart twist painfully in your chest. You really didn’t deserve such effort from him, and it almost made you feel guilty that you had acted so spoiled before. “I’ll go start the engine. You can just enjoy the view.”

However, you followed him to the cockpit. Heeseung raised a brow at you, but you giggled as you took a seat behind him, watching as he stood at the helm, fiddling with some controls you knew nothing about.

“You actually know how to operate this thing?” you asked.

“My dad taught me,” he explained. “I’m not licensed, though, so I don’t think this is exactly legal.”

“Not like that’s stopped you before.”

Heeseung grinned to himself. He started up the yacht’s engine by pressing a button on the dashboard. You watched his hands fly across the levers and controls before he started turning the wheel to steer out of the marina.

“You wanna head out to the deck?” he called out over his shoulder, but you just took the empty seat next to him. “Don’t you wanna sunbathe? Or you could check out the stateroom.”

“Nope,” you said, resting your chin on the palm of your hand as you watched him. “I’d rather wait for you.”

Sometimes, you’d almost catch Heeseung getting flustered. He’d always laugh and rub his nose, looking away shyly before anyone caught onto his awkwardness. The same reaction was unfolding before you right now, and you couldn’t help but smile like an idiot yourself.

You wondered if he ever felt butterflies in his stomach, too.

Once Heeseung had driven the yacht out far enough—far out enough in the water where the water was still and no one was there to disturb you two. You both headed out to the deck again. He took a seat to lay out what he packed in his picnic basket, and you removed your sundress so that you could tan a little in your bikini.

“Champagne?” he offered, holding up a bottle of Dom Pérignon that he most definitely stole from his family’s wine cellar.

You pulled out the two wine glasses in the basket and held them out for Heeseung to pour your drinks, smiling wide as he tipped the bottle. “Yes, please.”

“See, you wouldn’t be able to experience this if you were in the Bahamas right now.” He pushed his sunglasses up onto his head. “We didn’t get to hang out like this any of the past summers.”

“As if we don’t hang out almost every day.”

“But this is different!” he argued. “It’s summer. It’s not like we’re making impromptu plans to New York and flying back home a day later to study for an exam. We have all the time in the world right now.”

He was right, in a sense. You and Heeseung were always together, but you two never really got to spend long days together like this. You two got to make plans without involving anyone else in the friend group for once, and it was a lot more fun than you had expected.

“Do you think we’d be this close if we weren’t rich?” you asked after a while. Heeseung raised a brow at your question, so you clarified, “I’m serious! We wouldn’t be able to do stuff like this—flying in hot air balloons, driving yachts, going to country club parties—if we didn’t have rich parents.”

Heeseung crossed his arms behind his head and pondered, looking up at the sky with a wistful expression. He hummed before answering, “I’d like to think that we’d make it work the same way everyone else does.”

“Really?”

“Yep.”

“What if… you were rich and I wasn’t? Or vice-versa?”

“Yeah, I mean…” he trailed off for a moment, eyes cast down as if he was trying to find the words on his tongue. Then, he continued, “I think I’d be happy doing anything with you, even if all we could do together was sit at home and watch TV.”

Whatever response you had prepared at the back of your throat had died on your tongue. All you could do was look at him helplessly, wondering why his words were making your heart beat faster than when you were thousands of feet up in the sky days ago. You wondered why such gentle words from your best friend had roused a violent storm in your heart.

The wind picked up, sending your hair flying every which way. Heeseung reached out to brush a loose strand of hair away from your face, fingers lingering on your cheek as he pulled back. You went completely still, chest frozen mid-breath as he pulled away.

“You had something in your hair,” he mumbled, quickly scrambling to offer you a caprese skewer. If you looked closely enough, you would’ve noticed that his ears were bright red. “Eat quickly before the food gets stale.”

“I don’t think food normally goes stale that fast.”

“Shut up.”

There was one thing about formal gatherings that all trust fund babies could agree on: only get drunk behind your parents’ backs.

They definitely knew what was going on, but they paid no attention as long as their children were staying safe and not embarrassing themselves. When you were much younger, you would always catch sight of the older kids sneaking away to get drunk in the bathroom, but you never understood the excitement they felt until you became a freshman in high schooler, being dragged away by Yeji to drink with the older kids.

Back then, you were doe-eyed and curious as Vernon would pour shots for you in moderation. Now, you were nearly gagging when Yizhuo handed you a shooter of Pink Whitney.

You two had locked yourselves in the bathroom with Xiaoting, Kazuha, and Minjeong as Yizhuo pulled out various shooters from her purse. It was fine for you to drink wine with the other adults, but you were all certain that the adults would frown upon you drinking hard liquor in front of the other guests. So, the five of you snuck away to get drunk secretly.

For the past fifteen minutes, as you all were downing shooter after shooter, the girls had been pressing you about something going on between you and Heeseung. After he posted you on his Instagram story, showing off his boat in the process, you were bombarded with texts that you were only able to ignore until you got to the party.

A loud knock at the door nearly scared you out of your wits, causing Minjeong to bark out a laugh at the sight of you flinching.

“Occupied!” you yelled, although the syllables slurred together strangely.

“It’s us!” came Jake’s voice. “We’re going drunk golfing.”

You frowned and stepped aside to let Yizhuo open the door for Jake. He scanned his surroundings nervously before shoving his fists into his pockets and stepping into the girls’ bathroom.

“Jake,” Xiaoting started. Although her face and neck were completely red, she focused her eyes on him to keep a serious tone. “We need you to tell us if Heeseung’s into Y/N or not.”

“Xiaoting!” you complained.

“You know what, I’d like to know, too,” Jake replied with shocking enthusiasm. He leaned against the crystal sink, folding his arms across his chest. “Screw drunk golf; this is way more fun. Y/N, do you have feelings for Heeseung? ‘Cause everyone wants to know if—”

“Jake, we didn’t bring you in here for girl talk,” Minjeong cut him off with a wave of her hand. “We brought you in here for answers.”

He let out a childish whine. “But I wanna be here for girl talk.”

“Wait, but answer his question.” Yizhuo turned to you with a wide grin on her face, handing you yet another shooter—probably to make you more honest. You seriously wished you could call Chenle over to put a leash on your friend. “Do you have feelings for Heeseung?”

Did you? You had never been so confused about where you and Heeseung stood until this week. You two had always been close—always did everything together—so why were you feeling conscious about everything now?

But, despite all of your confusion, the one thing that was clear to you was that you felt something for Lee Heeseung with every beat of your heart.

Everything he did, everything he said—you weren’t sure what it was that had you so intoxicated on his attention, but you knew you would’ve felt sick to your stomach if he did the things he did with you with any other girl.

You felt it whenever you saw him lounging around your house, digging into the brownies your mother made as if he lived there. You felt it whenever someone told a joke and the two of you made eye contact with each other first, hoping to see if the other person found it funny, too. You felt it whenever he touched your hand and called you princess, unaware that your heart was fluttering pathetically in your chest.

His smile, his laugh, his happiness—you wanted to be the cause of it all.

You caved with a defeated sigh. “Yeah, I think I might actually have feelings for him.”

A collective cheer erupted in the bathroom, the sound echoing for a few seconds after. Jake stood up just to high-five Yizhuo so hard that the impact left their palms stinging, and then Yizhuo proceeded to scold Jake for putting his full force into the high-five. You pinched the bridge of your nose with embarrassment flooding your chest.

Jake decided to abandon the boys’ plans to go drunk golfing and spent the next ten minutes discussing strategies to get you and Heeseung alone. He had integrated himself into your circle so well that he almost seemed like one of the girls. You slowly backed up into one of the stalls during their conversation, starting to feel horribly nauseous and lightheaded. You were pretty sure that Yizhuo handing you shooter after shooter was starting to have adverse effects on your body.

“How about we tell him that Y/N’s puking in the bathroom and he needs to—” Minjeong cut herself off as soon as she heard you retching by the toilet. “Oh, wow, she’s actually puking in the bathroom.” She turned to Jake after opening the door for him. “Go get Heeseung.”

“If you let me join girl talk next time,” Jake bargained.

“Are you seriously negotiating with me in this situation?”

“Yes.”

Minjeong groaned. “Okay, fine, Jake, we’ll invite you the next time we have girl talk. Now go fetch Heeseung.”

“On it!” he agreed quickly. “Don’t die, Y/N.”

“I’ll try not to” you croaked out weakly, your head hanging between your knees as you willed yourself to not barf out your guts.

“Are you okay?” Kazuha pouted as she rubbed your back in soothing circles. “This is all because you kept making her drink, Yizhuo.”

“I didn’t make her,” she retorted. “Y/N, do you need water or anything? I can ask someone in the kitchen for liquid IV, too.”

You shook your head. “No, just bring Heeseung here.”

They shared a secretive giggle, but you didn’t care. You felt way too sick to mind the girls teasing you. You even tried to distract yourself on your phone, but the bright screen just made you feel worse. You closed your eyes and leaned your head back against the wall, groaning miserably.

It had really gotten to the point where you didn’t care that you were sitting on the country club’s public bathroom floor. It was all fancy and sanitary, of course, but you would normally feel icky about this sort of scenario playing out.

You weren’t sure how long it had been, but eventually, you heard the door opening and the rest of the girls rushed to make sure it wasn’t someone outside the group. You heard them ushering Heeseung inside, explaining what had happened to you before they left the bathroom.

Heeseung knocked on your stall as a formality but let himself inside, anyway. The crooked grin on his face upon seeing you only made you turn your head away and sigh in exasperation.

You turned your head back to face him when you heard his shutter go off.

A scowl was plastered across your face. “Did you just take a picture of me?”

Heeseung snickered. “Yeah, I’m posting it on my story. Right after the one of you looking all pretty on my boat.”

“You’re supposed to be here to help me.”

“That’s why I brought soda,” he replied, holding up an entire bottle of Sprite. You were confident he snagged it from the kitchen, which you were pretty sure would result in Yizhuo scolding him for treating the country club like his house. “Anyway, why’d you drink so much? Just because I’m driving you home doesn’t mean you’re allowed to give yourself alcohol poisoning.”

You settled back into your previous position with your head between your knees. This way, Heeseung wouldn’t be able to see how stupid in love you were. There was absolutely no way you could tell him that you were mindlessly drinking while you were spilling your feelings for him.

“Where’d the girls go?” you asked instead.

“I told them to go drunk golfing while I took care of you.”

“Don’t you wanna go play, too?”

Heeseung shrugged. He took a seat on the floor next to you, not minding the indecency even though he was sober. You felt like your heart was going to explode if he kept doting on you like this.

“I can always go play another time,” he said. “Plus, I’d have more fun if you were there.”

You both went quiet for a moment. The weight of Heeseung’s words only made your heart feel heavier, and you weren’t sure how much longer you could go pretending that you only cared for him as a friend.

Then, your stomach started churning and twisting with the need to puke out your guts again, and the silence was filled with your retching. Heeseung rubbed your back sympathetically and held your hair back while you hunched over the toilet seat again.

This was definitely going down as one of your most unflattering moments.

“Want some soda?” Heeseung tried.

You shook your head.

“Drink some water, then—here,” he said, handing you a red solo cup that was filled to the brim. “I stole it from Hoon.”

Reluctantly, you lifted your head to accept the cup from him. When you took a sip, though, you just ended up hawking and spitting out the contents into the toilet.

Trying your best not to gag, you got out, “Not water—vodka.”

“Oh, my bad.” Heeseung frowned, inspecting the cup. “Why’d Hoon pour this much? No wonder he drove the golf cart into the lake.”

After throwing up basically everything in your stomach, you started to feel dizzy all over again, stumbling and wobbling all over the bathroom until Heeseung had to hold you upright. He had already gotten Yizhuo’s approval to drive you home for the night, but there was no way you were making it to his Tesla in your heels. Heeseung had you hang tight while he ran to his car to get your Dolce & Gabbana rubber slides, knowing there was no possible way for him to carry you out to the car without the adults getting suspicious.

You felt much more comfortable in your slides, so you walked out hand-in-hand with Heeseung while he held onto your heels. Although you felt bad about leaving Yizhuo’s grand opening party early, you figured that it would be more shameful for her parents to see you in this state.

You had greatly underestimated the power of alcohol.

After you had walked up to about three different cars that weren’t Heeseung’s (including Jay’s Mercedes Benz, which started going off once you pulled on the handle), he had finally grabbed you by the shoulders and manually directed you to his Tesla. You giggled as you got into the passenger’s seat, allowing him to buckle you in and watch over you as he called Jay to turn his car alarm off.

Heeseung shot you a glance as he drove out of the country club’s gated entrance. “You’re going straight to bed when we get home.”

“Don’t wanna.”

He surprisingly gave up fast on trying to convince you. “What do you wanna do, then?”

“I dunno.” You shrugged. “Anything. Wanna bake cookies? Or watch a show?”

“Down for a show. Don’t know if I trust you around kitchen appliances right now,” he answered. After letting out a giggle, you caught Heeseung’s smile illuminated by the moonlight. “See? Aren’t you having more fun than you would’ve had in the Bahamas?”

“I wouldn’t ask this question after I nearly got alcohol poisoning.”

“The important thing is that you didn’t.”

You snorted, but something fond unraveled in your chest. You rolled the window down and looked outside, watching the bright lights of the city twinkle and shine under the inky black sky. You remembered all the skies you watched with Heeseung this week—the hazy gray in the morning, the bright blues of the afternoon, and the faint peony glow at sunset. And, yeah, you would’ve given up the Bahamas any day for this.

“Yeah,” you answered him, though you weren’t quite sure if he could hear you over the wind, “I’m having a lot of fun, Hee.”

Two weeks flew by far too quickly.

You were dumbfounded when you realized your parents were coming back the next day. You had spent two entire weeks solely with Heeseung, and you were having so much fun that you totally lost track of time. You were so caught up in your adventures that it had completely slipped your mind that summer would eventually come to an end.

Heeseung suggested that you two spent your last night doing something special. You had no idea what that meant, but you went along with whatever he had planned.

Apparently, he had been wanting to take you to see the stars, but you didn’t realize that he meant the observatory until you were in his car, parking on the steep slope of a hillside.

“It’s so far,” you complained.

He tutted. “It’s a five minute walk, princess, and it’s worth it. Trust me.”

You hesitated before grouching again, “It’s cold.”

Without another word, Heeseung took off his sweater. You tried to peel your eyes away from his white shirt that kept hiking up as he did. He passed it to you, and you couldn’t do anything but accept it because he was already getting out of the car. You wanted to hand it back to him because you knew he would be cold (made evident by the goosebumps that pricked his arms), but he profusely refused. He seemed perfectly content at the mere sight of you joining him.

He waited as you slipped on his sweater, the biggest grin stretching across his face. You were a little blindsided by how blinding Heeseung’s smile was, especially under the glow of the moon. Your cheeks heated up a little when you smelled faint traces of his Blackberry & Bay cologne in the fabric.

“You’re microscopic in my clothes,” he teased. You started walking a little faster to catch up with your friend, but his comment made you punch his shoulder.

“Oh, shut up.” You waved off the comment, but part of you liked how the sleeves of his sweater fell past your wrists. “We used to be the same height in, like, middle school.”

Heeseung barked out a laugh. “That was so long ago! Look at our height difference now.” Before you could anticipate his actions, he stepped in front of you and compared both of your heights.

You looked up at your best friend, raising a brow at his comment. Of course you were aware. Maybe at one point you denied it, but that was when you both were in elementary school and Heeseung would tug on your hair because he sat behind you.

Being this close to him made you a little nervous. After realizing that you had feelings for him, it was becoming difficult to keep them at bay. It was very clear that Heeseung had become much more masculine over the years with his buffer chest, muscular arms, and deeper voice.

And he looked extremely attractive.

“Yeah, I know you’re tall,” you replied flatly. It was normal for Heeseung to tease you, but whenever he did so in public, you always felt your heart squeeze in your chest. Then, he’d brush it off, and the feeling would fade out like bubbles floating to the ground. “You know, giving me your sweater and messing around like this probably gives people the wrong idea, right?”

“Oh… does it?” Heeseung mumbled, voice an octave higher than usual, and he turned his face away before you could detect the dust of pink across his cheeks. “By the way, have you been to a planetarium before?”

“Nope.”

You had always heard of the large domes that showcased the night sky. People sat underneath as a narrator droned on about stories from the past and the history of the universe. However, you hadn’t ever actually been to one, although you almost would’ve if you hadn’t gotten grounded before a class trip, resulting in all of your friends going to a planetarium show without you. You remembered Yizhuo was texting you throughout the entire trip, complaining about virtually everything that was going on and telling you how much she missed you.

“You’re kidding,” Heeseung’s eyes went round. “No way! You’ve never been to a planetarium?”

“Well—”

“Oh my god,” he continued, absolutely astounded. “Have you even lived?”

“I’ve just never had the chance!” you argued. “It’s not like anyone’s ever asked me to go to one. Plus, if there’s anyone I’d go with, I’d rather just go with you.”

Silence.

You and Heeseung had been settling into a lot of awkward pauses lately. It always followed some odd comment or action between you two, like when he got extremely close to you on the yacht. You still had no idea what exactly his intentions were during that whole ordeal, but your heart had never raced so fast.

Eventually, your silence was broken by an employee ushering you and Heeseung to walk past the velvet ropes and into the observatory building. You both were still silent upon walking in, but when you saw the signs pointing to the planetarium, you nudged your best friend’s side.

“It says the next showing starts in five minutes,” you pointed out.

“Fuck.” He slapped the pockets of his jeans, feeling for something solid in them. “I have my tickets—somewhere. Give me a second.”

Thankfully, he managed to figure out that he saved his tickets to his Apple Wallet. The sign stating that the shows were sold out nearly made your heart drop, but, of course, Heeseung had planned this out well in advance.

As always.

“Where should we sit?” you asked when you walked into the room, looking up at the dome-shaped ceiling in awe.

“Anywhere.” Heeseung grinned at you. “All we have to do is lay back and stare at the sky, so wherever you wanna sit.”

You both settled with two seats in the middle. It was smack dab in the center of the dome, right where the screen curved. Heeseung made a comment about how this was the ideal spot because it felt like you were getting sucked in by the stars.

When the show started, you gazed up at the screen in complete awe. Swirling nebulas and galaxies were painted across the night sky, blinking down at you. The narrator’s soothing voice made you feel absolutely immersed, and you had to grab the arm rest whenever the animation started speeding through the universe.

Heeseung booed when they showed Earth, throwing up a thumbs-down and then quickly shoving his hand back into his pocket, as if the planet would take offense.

And you realized you were in love with him.

You didn’t know why it hit you right then and there—a person droning on about space overhead, glancing over at your best friend to see him gawking at the solar system—but you were certain you would never feel this way with anyone else again. The feeling stampeded through your body, making your blood rush and your bones feel light. You were engulfed in a fire that burned only for Heeseung.

It felt so simple, yet all the more complicated. You were in love with your childhood best friend—the person who had been with you through everything.

It wasn’t like fireworks. Not a splash of ice cold water or like you had been kicked in the chest. It was more like slowly sinking in quicksand, not even realizing how deep you were until you were completely submerged.

You had been in love with Golden Boy for a long time now.

Later, after the show was over, he took you outside to overlook the city. Apparently, it was quite the sight to behold from this high up. You were still gushing on and on about the planetarium show, but as soon as you took a glance over the railing, you forgot all about the wonders of space.

Now, looking over all the bright lights really made it feel like the City of Angels. You were completely captivated by the sight. It was different from how it looked from the hot air balloon; everything was so miniscule from that height, but you could see how far the city stretched from here. The lights blinked past the horizon, and you were certain this was your first time seeing stars down below instead up in the sky.

Heeseung folded his arms onto the railing and tucked his head in them. “You can’t get this view anywhere else.”

“It’s beautiful,” you said, hardly audible.

“Yeah,” he replied. You wondered if he was talking about the stars above or the city below, so you turned your head to catch where he was looking. There was an alarming spike in your heartbeat when you realized he was looking at you, but Heeseung didn’t look away this time. “It really is.”

You never fully appreciated how gorgeous Los Angeles—never really looked past all the traffic and smog and crowd. The bustling city was tiring to keep up with at times. You saw it more as the city of burnouts than the city of stars.

But here, where the stars weren’t in the sky but down below, you realized that the brightest star of them all was the one right next to you.

It was Heeseung.

“You don’t still wish you were in the Bahamas, do you?” he asked suddenly, which spurred you to start laughing.

You stared up at him with incredulity in your eyes. “Hee, I never once wished I was in the Bahamas when I was with you.” You nodded to yourself. “I’d say you made this a successful summer.”

Your heart flipped in your chest when you saw those gleaming eyes and bright smile of his. It almost lit up the sky brighter than the city of Los Angeles itself. The way he was looking at you made you forget everything you were saying.

“Actually,” he started shyly, “there's something else that could make this summer perfect.”

“What’s that?”

“Will you go out with me?”

The question knocked you off orbit, electrifying every nerve in your body like it was cut wire. You weren’t sure what expression you wore on your face, but the shy look on Heeseung’s face was plunging you deeper in that inescapable quicksand. Of course, your friends had suspected this all along, but hearing it yourself was entirely different. You felt like you were glowing brighter than Polaris.

“I’ve liked you since we were kids,” he started to explain after gauging that you still needed time to process his words. “It’s not like I just felt this way overnight. I was just trying to make the right choices so that I could stay by your side for as long as I could. I mean, I’ll always be your best friend, Y/N, but I also wanna be something more than that to you.”

“And it’s okay if you don’t feel the same way,” he continued. “I knew that this could possibly ruin our friendship, but I also knew that if I didn’t tell you how I felt, then I would’ve been lying to you through college, too.” He sucked in a shuddering breath. “It’s only ever been you.”

Change was hard. You’d been at war with your mind for a while now over starting something new with Heeseung. Although it was unfamiliar and new, and although you were scared of things potentially not working out, you still wanted to try for him.

“You don’t have to worry about ruining our friendship.” The words were on your tongue like a pearl. Your soul leaked out of your body, straight into the Earth, then seeped back into you with newfound bravery. You blinked back tears that dared to spill and sounded so stupidly breathless when you confessed, “I’m in love with you, too, Hee.”

His eyes were as wide as saucers, unblinking. “You are?”

His voice was soft, imploring, almost desperate, so you stepped closer and cupped his cold cheeks with your warm hands. Heeseung’s gaze seemed faraway, but he placed his hands over yours, as if he was trying to make sure you were real.

“I don’t think there’s anyone else out there who would rent an entire hot air balloon just to make sure I wouldn’t miss the Bahamas.” You laughed, a moonstruck grin on your face. “And, for the record, I’d choose you over a stupid vacation any day.”

You had been waiting to see his face break into that dazzling smile of his where his eyes crinkled at the corners. Instead, Heeseung just gazed at you longingly before he placed a hand on your cheek and bent down to kiss you.

His mouth moved with yours carefully, almost like he was too scared to go any further. You moved your hands to loop around his neck, drawing him closer so that you could slowly deepen the kiss. You were grateful that Heeseung waited to match your pace, and soon he was dropping his hands to grab at your waist and pull you closer to him, too. It sent butterflies straight to the pit of your stomach whenever he smiled between kisses, mumbling something about how pretty you were or how he had been waiting to do this forever.

Sometimes, you realized, feelings didn’t need to be expressed through words. You didn’t need the confirmation because with Heeseung’s lips pressed to yours, you felt like you were glowing brighter than the stars above.

You supposed you could say your parents were a little shocked to come back home and discover a major change in your relationship status.

You had to give them the rundown of what happened, of course. It wasn’t very hard to do, considering you had reiterated the same story to Yizhuo about a hundred times until she was satisfied. Thankfully, your other friends just needed to hear it once to fully grasp that Heeseung was now your boyfriend. For Yeji, you had to bring out a whiteboard just to draw everything out to her over FaceTime.

As you broke down what happened while your parents were in Rome, you noticed the silver necklace on your mother’s neck that glimmered whenever the light caught it. You smiled to yourself when you realized it was probably your stepfather’s honeymoon present, and you were grateful that your mother was able to experience such a wonderful love herself.

“See?” There was an excited gleam in your mother’s eyes as she bit into one of the chocolate chip cookies you and Heeseung made for them last night. She pointed the cookie in your stepfather’s direction. “I told you they’d get together!”

“I thought so, too!” he agreed. “That’s why I had that little talk with Heeseung when you two dropped us off at the airport.”

“That’s what you guys were talking about?!” you exclaimed, jumping up to your feet and then sinking back down in your seat with your hands covering your face. “I knew it was gonna be something embarrassing.”

“Oh, honey, don’t say that. Have a cookie.”

“Thanks, Mom,” Heeseung, who had been silent the whole conversation, spoke up. He reached over and took the cookie from your mother, but you smacked his hand lightly while he was bringing it to his mouth. “Hey! You almost made me drop my cookie!”

You huffed. “She was talking to me, idiot.”

You were honestly over-the-moon that dating Heeseung was this easy. You worried about having a boyfriend and having to go through the hassle of introducing him to your parents and waiting for them to warm up to him. With Heeseung, though, he was already like family in your household, so nothing felt too different.

Except that your parents could outwardly tease you both now.

Since you were in his parents’ good graces, too, everything seemed to click for you two. Both of your parents were planning to go out for dinner sometime this week to celebrate your new relationship, which you felt was a little over-the-top. You suspected that Mrs. Lee was hoping you would be her future daughter-in-law.

They were even planning on renting a Airbnb together for yours and Heeseung’s move-in at Yale. It was almost terrifying how everyone in your life seemed to be fully on-board for this relationship.

Not that you were complaining, though.

“Are you guys going somewhere now?” your mother asked, eyeing Heeseung’s white button-up that you were wearing over your swimsuit. “Make sure you wear sunscreen. It’s supposed to be the hottest day of the year.”

You checked your bag to make sure your sunscreen was, in fact, there. Heeseung took his baseball cap off to put it on your head, which made you crack a smile.

“Yeah, we’re going to the beach,” you said. “Yizhuo and Chenle wanted to spend the day at Santa Monica, and then we were gonna head over to Jungwon’s house.”

“Well, have fun.” Your mother moved to the kitchen to grab Tupperware to package the cookies. Your stepfather followed her in to help her out. “I’m sorry we couldn’t go to the Bahamas this year, but the beach has to be the next best thing, right?”

You shared a grin with Heeseung, and his eyes crinkled beautifully at the corners. “Yeah, it’s exactly like the Bahamas if I close my eyes.”

AUTHOR’S NOTE ▸ thank you for reading all the way to the end if you made it this far !! :’) i have always wanted to write pure fluff without any room for misunderstandings or angst LOL and heeseung is just the perfect embodiment of bff2l ♡ i hope you enjoyed reading this as much as i enjoyed writing this !! 

TAG LIST ▸ @mmsriza @changmin-wrlds @13isacoolnumber @from-xero @acciomylove @nyujjan @goldenhypen @bbanggami @lvsunq @cb97curls @ily-cuz-i @jakeyuni @soobisms @rikibae @soobin-chois @sjyuniverse @outrologist @kyukittie @nabinthegardnn @viagumi @kpoplover718 @duolingofanaccount @jjongsha​ @teawithbucky @baekhyunstruly​ @mykalon @heelariously @hobistigma​ @ja4hyvn @candidupped @shmooooo​ @pr0dbeomgyu @heeyunkist @sunshine-skz @hiqhkey @baekhyuns-lipchain @fakeuwus @wvnkoi

[peggyao3]

Crossfade

PAIRING: Feyd-Rautha Harkonnen x f!Reader x Benny Cross

SUMMARY: Benny comes home after a week on the road and has things to make up for, to his brother Feyd-Rautha and their sweetheart.

TAGS: AFAB she/her reader, no use of y/n, third person POV, threesome - F/M/M, explicit sexual content, penis in vagina sex, oral sex, anal fingering/sex (f receiving), double creampie, overstimulation, spit kink, slight degradation kink, touch of breeding kink, dirty talk, pet names, manhandling, filthy & messy, twincest/selfcest, brotherly rivalry, dirty stray puppy benny, domestic cat feyd, porn with minimal plot

WORD COUNT: 4k

A/N: Frothing at the mouth, barking at the moon, moaning like a slut, I've been wanting to write this for ages and here it isss 🥹❤️ (after blueballing @sebastianswallows with it for like four months asdfg)

Ao3 | Masterlist 🖤

Dividers by @saradika-graphics

"Look what the cat dragged in. If it isn't my lost brother who has come home to have his laundry done."

The embers of a late summer day still cling to Benny's hair and jacket as he glowers at the scene before him — His twin brother sprawled out on the king-sized bed, big enough to fit three people, legs propped up and spread apart so that the first thing that Benny was forced to see when he walked in was Feyd-Rautha's cock filling out their sweetheart's pussy from root to tip.

She's on his chest, her legs raised and held apart by veined, pale hands, tits bouncing with each obscene upwards thrust, lungs fighting for enough air to formulate a greeting as Feyd carves her insides out. The creaking of the slatted frame is unhealthy sounding, dark wood slamming against the tapestry, the ever same spots crumbling under the force of the bed posts. The cotton sheets are rumpled under their bodies.

"And you've grown into a fully domesticated house cat?" Benny grits his teeth and throws his gloves on the chair, annoyed to find both armrests occupied by Feyd's shit. Who wears a fucking dressing gown at home anyway.

"One of us has to stay home to take care of our poor darling. We don't want her to feel neglected and leave us, do we, brother?"

Benny clenches his jaws and glares. He does not want that.

"I wasn't gone that long." The blonde man squares his shoulders, cheek and forehead still streaked with residue exhaust gases and dirt from the road.

"It's been over a week," Feyd coos promptly, his voice like rattling chains, being calmly dragged across jagged stone. "And you didn't come across a single payphone during your adventures."

Coming home is never not an aching duality. Guilt burns in his guts, a bitter taste at the back of his throat. He always waits for their darling to raise her voice and kick him back out on the street, but she never does. Benny's chest grows lighter, young heart pitter-pattering against his ribs. 

Coming home is also like getting candy at a carnival. It never stops being exciting when he wraps his hand around a bag of treats, and he will always moan when the cotton candy melts on his tongue.

"D-Don't provoke him," their darling finally gasps, trying to heave herself into a sitting position on Feyd's abdomen. She might as well have tried to sit still on a Bucking Bronco. The jerky undulations of his pelvis thrust her right backwards, spine colliding with the hard velvet planes of his chest again. Unyielding hands spread her knees that bit further back, tugging her to the sweet edge of discomfort.

"I should have known you would side with him, sweetling," Feyd purrs and Benny catches a glimpse of his brother's ink black canines and incisors that give him the guise of a hissing serpent. "I've been playing far too nice with you lately."

"I'm not siding with anyone, I'm just - ahhh - glad he isn't dead. G-God, Feyd, can you slow down?" Her head lolls sideways, nose and lips sliding against the cords of his neck as her chin settles in the hollow above his clavicle.

"Contrary to other people in this room, I take pleasuring you very seriously, so be a good darling now, yes?" Feyd is by no means done with this demonstration that has Benny’s aching hard-on pressing against his battered jeans. He's a fucking idiot for for being away from home and missing out on this — and leaving her in the care of his psychotic brother for so long.

"I'm sorry," the blonde man grits out, blue puppy eyes framed by long lashes. He's so ridiculously pretty, Feyd has always hated him for that.

"Make yourself useful, brother. You have something to make up for."

Benny doesn't even slip his boots or jacket off before climbing onto the bed like a dog whistled to heel. Leather creaks and the sharp smell of gasoline and cigarettes melts into the heady bouquet of sex, sweat and perfume. The mattress dips under the added weight and soot-stained hands glide over their sweetheart's jiggling ass, pinning her down against Feyd's hard abdomen and hip bones. Calloused thumbs tug her labia apart and his entire torso is forced to move along with his brother's unrelenting lesson to make him jealous.

"There you go," Feyd coos when their darling moans out, pussy clenching like a vise around his pale, milky shaft as soon as Benny's plush lips wrap around her swollen, little nub.

That's what makes it so great to share her, they all get something out of it.

Benny grunts his wordless apology, hot breath puffing out of his nostrils while his tongue gets to work, feasting on the sweet juice of homecoming. Benny is always so eager when he has his face stuffed between her legs, blue eyes begging for forgiveness as if he thinks he hardly deserves to be here in the first place. She can never stay mad at him for long even though she's sworn she will, god knows how many times.

The aching pressure of Feyd's thick cock sinks into her navel and her channel grows tight, every nerve end prickling overwhelmingly, lit by a match that only burns when both of them have their cocks and mouths on or in her.

The strength of two men holds down her squirming thighs and she can only throw her head from left to right, tear on Benny's curls or scratch Feyd-Rautha's hard flank bloody, but nothing can stop the white-hot orgasm from careening up to her.

The truth is, she can't climax so easily when she's worried and worry eats at her most of the time when Benny is away. She feels sorry for making Feyd work so hard for it when he's on his own, sorry to be cumming so fast now when Benny has only had his lips on her for a minute.

Moan after moan bubbles from her throat like beads off a snapped string and her convulsing body bears down on the man below her, hips bucking against the face of the man above her. Feyd-Rautha chuckles, calls her a filthy toy and the crude words prolong her climax for painful seconds. She feels wetness against her cheek and has to claw her way back out of the quivering daze to realize it's neither sweat nor tears, it's Feyd's tongue licking a stripe from her cheek to her temple.

Benny feels the pulsing of her cunt under his tongue, the contractions of her muscles radiating all the way to her swollen clit, and that's all he gets for now. Jealously, he peeks down at his brother's balls and cock, sheathed and snuggled and milked by their darling's squishy cunt. Or — about to be milked. His twin brother has an obscene amount of stamina when he wants to, probably because pain gets him going and nothing hurts like being edged.

Benny's jeans strangle him while he helplessly ruts against the sheets, like a mutt in heat that they had scraped off the road. He has far less self-restraint. His leather suffocates him and perspiration glues his shirt to his back, but he wouldn't take his lips off their darling's perfect little cunt even if a gun was held to his head.

The thick base of Feyd's cock slides repeatedly against Benny's chin. Spit drips out of the biker's pink mouth and down the coarse beard stubble which leaves Feyd's pale shaft with a prickling rash from the bristly friction. The fair-skinned brother hisses, muscles tensing in his glutes as he slams upwards.

Benny has something to make for to both of them.

One calloused palm remains on her thigh, the other slides to his brother's, hard fingertips kneading into white, smooth flesh. Feyd snarls, thrusts growing short and pointed, punching breathless yelps out of their toy's throat. Benny's hand then trails to Feyd-Rautha's smooth, hairless sac that bounces with each upwards slam. He flattens his palm against it and squeezes hard until Feyd hisses a curse in their mother tongue.

One never knows with Feyd-Rautha's fickle moods and Benny doesn't want to risk a blade against his neck. That's their darling's thing, not his. In truth, he only wants his brother to cum faster, so he can finally have his turn.

"Benny," Feyd-Rautha growls in warning and the blonde man removes his fingers, finding a more interesting target between the slick mess of slapping flesh.

"Benny!" Their darling yelps, feet kicking adorably in empty air.

"What's he doing, sweetling?"

"He's—"

"Playing with your cute little ass, isn't he? Well I can't stop him."

The biker's finger slides in deep and she's painfully aware, yet awfully indifferent, that he didn't wash his hands. His long, thick middle finger sinks down to the last knuckle and the cool metal of his ring bumps into her puckered muscles over and over. His pink mouth suckles messily on her clit, Feyd's cock pounds the air out of her lungs and her center twists itself so tight that the pleasure of it cramps up her entire lower half.

She climaxes once more with a wailed, inhuman sound, thrashing her head from left to right. This time, Benny can feel the contractions of her hole around his finger. He smirks stupidly against her pulsing clit as juice from her cunt drips over his dirty hand, giving him the means to wiggle a second, thick finger inside that cute little hole.

Her sweetly pain-stricken tone is what finally makes Feyd-Rautha cave into the milking contractions of her cunt that pull him in as if to secure his seed inside her womb. And who is he to deny her. While Benny is the dirty street dog in the relationship, Feyd regards himself as a sophisticated animal, relinquishing every drop of himself only with utmost control.

He holds himself firm against her cervix and the shivers of his peak roll down his pale, twitching muscles. Their sweetheart whines quietly against his throat with spit-wet lips, hands folded limply over her stuffed belly. Feyd's cock gives one last greedy twitch when Benny's tongue slides hotly over his balls, lapping at this leaking seed.

"Filthy dog, that's not for you," Feyd rasps but doesn't command his feral twin away.

Impatiently, one tan, broad hand sprawls across their darling's ass cheek and shoves. Her pliant body scoots up Feyd-Rautha's abdomen until his cock slips out, together with a filthy squelch and a rivulet of frothing cum. Two fingers are still working her tight little channel open, easier than ever with so much gushing lube.

"She's gonna need a third one for your cock," Feyd coos, a drowsy lilt to his severe tone, though his hands still keep her legs bent backwards and her cunt and ass on display like a homecoming buffet for his brother.

"You think so?" Benny's blue eyes twinkle trustfully in the lamplight. Without the crude soundscape of Feyd's hips shattering the slatted frame, the disheveled pair finally notice the needy rhythm of Benny's pelvis, grinding against the sheets as he waits his turn, a dog held back only by the collar and leash of guilt strangling his neck.

"On second thought, she doesn't. Get up here."

Get your part of the sweet fucking cherry pie.

Benny bounces upright like a whipcord and strips out of jacket and shirt. Sweat glistens on tan pectorals and a few beads have gotten caught in the sparse, blonde hair sprinkled across his chest and the trail down his taut abdomen. Her eyes follow the frantic movement of bruised fingers, unbuttoning his jeans and shoving them down just enough to free his flushed cock, jutting out from blonde, messy curls. It bobs obscenely and smacks on her abdomen as he crawls over her, already wrapping a fist around himself to angle the blunt tip to her slick, puckered hole.

"Y'smell like a rat died n'your armpits," she tries to joke, though her tongue feels like a sluggish thing, stuffed and forgotten in her mouth. Reaching up, she curls her palm gently around Benny's hard bicep and her hand shakes ridiculously. The boy smiles stupidly at the comment, proud of himself. Feyd snorts and takes pity on his twin. If he had a tail it would be wagging.

"You can have her cunt too, brother. I warmed her up for you. I know you like it warm and messy."

Even when they were kids, Benny was always the one who loved playing in the dirt. Wetting his cock with his brother's cum only makes him harder. It's just the rotten cream on top of his slice of sweet cherry pie.

"But I— Aahhh!" Her cute complaints are forced back into her lungs as the air is battered out of them. Her cunt is stretched well enough from Feyd's cock to take Benny's to the hilt in one smooth glide. He had probably expected more resistance and found none. The blunt, thick tip of him slams into her cervix, full force.

She hisses through her teeth, staked on the thick, hot lance of his cock. Without delay, he snaps into action, pulling back only to slam back in even quicker. He fucks like he rides — fast and with little care for damage, for the thrill and for the joy of it.

Benny eclipses the lamplight, caging her between his brother and himself. One palm braces himself against the mattress, the other slides softly over her cheek, neck and bouncing chest, happy to find her nipples standing pert against his calloused palm. His fingertips are so gentle, but his pace is not. Her cunt aches, yet pleasure blooms through the blunt, burning pain of being stretched out and used.

"Please, m'so sore." She would have almost preferred to be fucked in the other hole instead.

Feyd's hand curls around her neck, pressing her down against his shoulder. A gentle reminder that any escape attempt will be in vain and also punished.

"Did you hear that, our darling is sore," he purrs in gentle mockery.

"Yeah, I heard that," Benny grunts, blue eyes slipping over her pathetically disheveled face. "Is it too bad, babycakes? I can stop." He slows down, and the slower pace almost aches worse, reminding her every nerve of just how sore they are. It would take him great effort to stop, but it'd be a punishment he deserves.

"She can take it," Feyd purrs, fingers of the remaining hand tightening their grip on the back of her knee, holding her quivering thigh bent and open. "Don't disappoint my brother, sweetness, we've fucked you much worse."

"N-N-Now you're siding with him?"

"Of course, he's my brother. He's been saving up his cum all week. Didn't you, Benny?"

"I didn't cheat if that's what you're asking—hmmph!" 

Feyd's hand has abandoned their darling's thigh and curled around his brother's hip, gripping him by the ass cheek just above the haphazardly shoved down jeans, encouraging him to go faster, harder. 

"Oh, no, you wouldn't. I'd kill you if you did." Everyone in this room knows Feyd means it.

Encouraged, Benny ruts into their sweetheart's slick, squishy pussy, hard and hurried, taking advantage of the privilege as long as he has it, scared that his baby might kick him off any second. And she could, now that her legs are finally free from Feyd-Rautha's grasp.

But what she does is sling her shaky legs around his hips, heels scraping against the back pockets of his jeans, because she never wants him to leave again.

Feyd holds her steady by the neck, a nice little fuck toy for his brother. Their darling's calf lies over his hand on Benny's ass and his thumb strokes over her pulse. He'll know when it really gets too much for her. She just likes to complain, but at the end of the day, her squishy cunt can't stop weeping for their cocks and her little mouth can't stop drooling for them when they manhandle her and toss her around like a cute, little doll.

Her lungs quiver around the smell of sweat, cigarettes and testosterone, the perfect fucking scent to get high on and chuck the remainder of her brain into the trash. There's nothing to worry about when she's squished between two hard, virile bodies, caged by clenching biceps and twitching abdominal muscles, both of these bodies powered by the strength of their thick thighs and hard shoulders.

The only downside is that she can't catch a break with two of the same kind in her life, but the good thing is that she don't need to worry bout nothing when they're both in her bed, fucking her brain into gummy soup.

"Open, sweetness." Benny's thumb presses against her bottom lip and wriggles into her drooling mouth, tasting of cigarettes and tanginess. Her jaw falls down obediently and Benny grins before spitting on her pink tongue. "Now kiss my brother."

Feyd-Rautha chuckles. "How thoughtful of you."

His pillow-shaped lips descend on her open mouth, her sweaty neck still gently strangled by his palm. Black teeth sink into her upper lip before his mouth slants against hers diagonally, rolling his tongue against the sluggish thing in her mouth with gratuitous saliva. Moans and pitiful whimpers are swallowed by Feyd-Rautha's mouth while Benny's cock pistons into her with hard, slapping rhythm, jolting her body back and forth in the clamp of sweaty muscles.

Sticky flesh rehardens, pokes and twitches against the cleft of her ass. The plump head is nuzzled against Benny's ball sack. Feyd relishes her thunderous heartbeat under his palm, her pupils blown comically wide with fucked-out arousal and fear. She knew this was coming.

"He's already prepared you for me," Feyd coos, pressing wet teeth against the corner of her mouth. "Don't want his efforts to be in vain."

The two men shuffle for a moment and gruff hands pull on her flesh, tugging her in place just how they need her until Feyd finds the right angle to line himself up, evoking snarls and sharp nails in Benny's clenching back when the blunt head of his cock forces her slicked-up ring of muscles to spread open.

"Now, now, don't pretend this is too much. We all know there's enough room for both of us."

"It's alright, babycakes." Benny holds still, letting her pussy flutter meekly around the girth of him. His calloused hand captures her chin, thumb rubbing over the drool-glossy corner of her mouth. He looks so beautiful on top of her, blonde hair frazzled into a shattered lamplight halo.

She pouts at him, grunting when Feyd's cock sinks deeper inside with surprisingly slow, little thrusts. And then, when Benny starts moving again, her holes are stuffed so good, she might just implode around them and never have a single thought in her blanked-out little brain again.

"Ahhh, God, that's so—aaahh~"

"That's it, doll, that's how we like our sweet little thing," Feyd snarls, hand on her neck, arm slung around the small of Benny's twitching back. Benny grins, white teeth among blonde stubble, as if he hasn't been happier in his entire life.

And maybe he hasn't. In his untamable heart, living from sunset to sunset, every day is another adventure as prickling and brand new as the last.

The two of them find a filthy rhythm, viciously in sync like only twin brothers could be.

They are sunshine gold above, chalk white hills and midnight teeth below and yet they are each other's complimentary mirror image, engaged in a brotherly staring and fucking contest and their sweet slice of pie is stuck on the front line between them, moaning and crying their names so good that both of them could go insane and lose their minds in her cute, filthy holes.

"Oh, god... oh, fuck, oh, g-god! B-Benny, ah, Feyyyd—"

"Yes, baby, comeoncomeon!" Benny grunts out, brows scrunching up in despair. His balls ache from a week's worth of cum and desire knots at the pit of stomach, pleasure pulling outwards in a way that he can hardly contain with sheer power of will. He needs his baby to milk the seed out of his cock like she wants to fill herself up with his whelps.

The bed creaks, Benny's sweaty curls grind tirelessly against her swollen clit and Feyd's fingers tighten around her windpipe. Climax wipes out her seeing and hearing for a solid thirty seconds. Both holes clench pathetically around their cocks, drool slips from the corner of her mouth and gathers in the hollow between Feyd's clavicles.

Benny's mouth pops open, string of curses falling out as he lets himself get dragged in by his sweet darling sugar pie's pussy, milking him for all he has, milking him until it hurts and he wants to bury his face in her shoulder.

Feyd watches his brother come apart, gawks at him with parted lips and wickedly twitching smile. Dark eyes gleam and he waits only for one thing, for Benny to look him in the eyes, and when he does, Feyd-Rautha too drains himself into the sweet release of painful pleasure, pumping their sweetheart's ass full of filthy seed.

Three bodies come to rest and time and air stand still. Evening light seeps through the dirty window pane. Dogs bark outside and the stench of sex and sweat is nearly suffocating in the heat. Benny's weight bears down on the both of them as he nuzzles her neck and then his brother's.

"Benny," she sighs, mussing up his greasy strands with gentle fingers.

Pretty, sleepy puppy.

But a heavy one too. Feyd's breath below her is strained and quiet, but he holds out patiently.

Ten minutes. Then, Benny eases off them, cock slipping out of her sore sheathe. Proudly, he gawks down at himself, finding his shaft covered in slick and a lewd combination of cum from root to slit. Feyd-Rautha lifts her gently off his cock and thick dollops escape her clenching hole.

"I'll clean that up for you." Benny darts for the filthy treat between her thighs.

"NOOO, enough!" The sole of her foot splats against his bristly cheek and shoves him off with so much force that he's sent toppling off the bed, landing moaning and groaning on the creaking hardwood floor.

"Kush!" She then smacks at Feyd's bald head and the feline man all but leaps off the bed, knowing that the only thing to save him from a beating — or being sprayed down with a water bottle — is bringing enough distance between him and his sweetling. That and bringing her a warm, damp cloth.

Their baby's sulking with them now, so they better take care of her good.

"Get up, idiot." Feyd-Rautha kicks his brother in the ribs who is still shuffling around on the ground, stuffing his sweaty dick back into his jeans.

"Huh?"

"You know what to do!" Feyd yanks his twin up by the armpits and shoves him towards the hallway door to fetch their darling a nice, big glass of water, like always.

"Sorry, baby~" Benny catches himself against the door frame, looking back to her with big blue eyes that could melt rocks.

"It's fine," she smiles, smirks even, and Feyd tsssks through painted teeth, pale toes tapping on the floorboards.

"Always so lenient with him."

"Can't help it," she giggles. "Look at him."

"Yeah, I know."

"What's that supposed to mean," grumbles a blushing, pouting Benny before stomping out on the hallway as Feyd cracks the bathroom door open, pale, lithe limbs slipping out of view.

Finally alone — at least for a minute — their darling slumps against the damp pillows and lets out the biggest sigh of relief. Finally, things are as they should be again.Tonight, she will sleep sandwiched between the two warmest, nicest pillows in the world, embraced by two pairs of arms and legs and two heartbeats thudding peacefully against hers.

A/N: I want to be their brainless piece of cherry pie so bad 😩💦🥵 I don't rule out writing more random smutty scenarios with them, if inspiration strikes, hehe.

FEYD TAG LIST

@nostalgichoya, @forgedfromthestars, @sweetiee-o, @missbingu, @minedofmoria

@sebastianswallows, @charmingballoon, @flower-frog, @welliah, @aoi-targaryen

@coastalcowgirl35, @esolean, @szapizzapanda, @tatertooted, @sunny747

@ughdontbeboring, @meetmeatyourworst, @gravesdiggergirl

[stevie-petey]

episode eight: the gate

“Drop me and die.” Your knuckles are white as they clutch the rope, your body shaking with exhaustion as you try to ease your way down without further injuring your ribs.  Steve laughs and tightens his grip on your waist, steadying you as you finally inch the rest of the way down and land with a gentle thud onto the ground. “Like I’d ever dream of letting you go.” This time, you know it’s his words that cause you to shiver, not the exhaustion and pain.

Summary: you encourage nancy to take your place (everyone is shocked), you and steve are the newest babysitters in town, billy ruins things as always, tunnels are weird when youre concussed, you remind jonathan of an old promise, and when the snowball comes you make your own promise with steve that you know you can keep.

Rating: general, although very violent

Warnings: use of y/n, fem!reader, intense violence and blood, weapons, monsters, probably more im forgetting

Words: 20.1k (no one speak to me)

Before you swing in: this is it ,,, the final episode of season two <3 this chapter was both the easiest and hardest one ive ever written. there are scenes in here that i put so much into, and im so proud of where everything landed. handling so many relationships and dynamics was so incredibly difficult, but i adore where they ended up. i hope you guys do, too :)

-

“Eleven,”

“Mike.”

The two kids embrace, Mike holding desperately onto El as if he’s afraid she’ll disappear again any second, and she’s holding onto him just as tightly as their tears mix together. 

You watch them with a hand over your heart, your own tears spilling over. You can’t believe this is real, that El is standing in Mike’s arms alive and real.

The way they cling to each other brings more tears to your eyes. It’s obvious to everyone how much they love one another. You think about the endless batches of brownies you baked for Mike, how many nights you spent in his basement standing watch, looking for any sign of grief, in case he needed you there to remind him that it’s okay to cry. 

“Is that…?” Max asks Lucas, and he nods. 

“She’s back.” You exhale, feeling Dustin’s fingers slip between yours. He knows how much you missed El, he’s spent just as many nights keeping watch over you, reminding you to cry as well. 

Mike pulls away, his eyes shining with tears. “I never gave up on you. I called you every night. Every night for–”

“353 days.” El finishes for him, you’ve never heard so much emotion in her voice. “I heard.”

You think about the nights you found Mike huddled underneath the fort he once built for El in his basement, clutching the radio to his chest, passed out from exhaustion. You never mentioned it to the boy, knowing he’d simply deny and tell you it was nothing, but hearing El confirm what you already knew still hurts. 

“Why didn’t you tell me you were there?” 

You look around the room now, wondering the same as Mike, and then your eyes land on Hopper. While everyone looks surprised or confused at El’s reappearance, Hopper’s face is one of resignation. 

Everything clicks. 

He knew.

Hopper sees that you’ve pieced it together and steps forward. “Because I wouldn’t let her.”

You step forward as well so that you’re next to Mike, knowing that this will only upset him more. “You knew.”

“What the hell is this?” The chief ignores you, now speaking only to El. “Where’ve you been?”

“Where have you been?” El’s eyes darken, but she immediately melts when Hopper pulls her into a hug. By watching their body language, you can tell that they love each other dearly, and distantly you remember hearing about the daughter Hopper once had. 

Though you’re angry he hid El from you, you’re thankful they found one another in the end. You’ve never seen Hopper so tender with someone, and El seems to feel safe within his embrace, far from the skittish girl you found in the woods last year. 

“You’ve been hiding her!” Lost in your thoughts, you momentarily forget about Mike, who launches himself at Hopper and punches the man’s chest. “You’ve been hiding her this whole time!”

Hopper flinches away. “Hey–”

“Mike,” you grab his shoulders, knowing his anger will only do more harm than good, but he struggles against you as he tries to continue hitting the man. “We can all talk about this–”

“Let’s talk,” Hopper grabs at Mike’s shirt, finally forcing the kid to stop. Then, looking directly at you, he adds. “Alone.”

You look at Mike, silently asking him what he needs from you. You know the two of them need to settle their differences, that he feels Hopper’s betrayal the deepest and you trust him to make his own choices. However, with one headshake from him, you would prevent Mike from being alone with Hopper in a heartbeat. 

Mike knows this, he doesn’t have to even have to ask what you mean when you gently nod your chin at him. Taking a deep breath, the boy sighs and nods at you, indicating that he’ll talk with the cop. 

You let go of Mike and gently push him towards Hopper. “He’s all yours, but try not to kill him, please? I unfortunately like the kid.”

Hopper doesn’t play into your words and promptly grabs the back of Mike’s hoodie and marches him towards Will’s room. The door closes behind them, leaving you to deal with El.

Her nose is bleeding and she looks upset having Mike taken from her, there’s an exhaustion behind her eyes that you’re all too familiar with. You wrap an arm around her waist and pull her into you. “C’mere, sweetheart.”

El leans into the kiss you press upon her cheek and closes her eyes, relishing in the tenderness after the night she’s had. “Missed you.”

“And I missed you.” You place another kiss on her head. “The hairstyle suits you, by the way.”

This seems to lighten the girl up a bit, who giggles and quietly thanks you as she wraps her arms fully around you now, securing you into a hug. You allow her all the time she needs to collect herself. 

When you hear Mike’s heartbroken screams at Hopper, calling him a liar, you squeeze your arms tighter around El. “They’ll be fine,” you promise her, feeling the need to reassure her of this, though hearing Mike’s screams breaks your heart.

You understand why Hopper hid El, it wasn’t safe for anyone to know about her being alive, but Mike spent the entire year grieving for her. He lost a year of his childhood mourning the loss of a close friend, of someone he loves, and it isn’t fair to expect him to accept this. 

El nods at your reassurance before you’re suddenly shoved away from her. 

“You’re hogging the former dead girl, Y/N!” Dustin exclaims as he engulfs El into a hug. 

Lucas flashes you an apologetic smile before hugging the girl as well, focusing his attention on her. “We missed you.”

“I missed you too.” She responds, squeezing both boys tight. 

“We talked about you pretty much every day.” Dustin pulls away before pointing at you. “Y/N usually just cried.”

You elbow your brother, causing him to wince. “You say that like I don’t normally cry over things.”

Dustin opens his mouth to argue, but suddenly El’s fingers are pinching at his lips as she pries his jaw open. Your brother looks at you in alarm, and you’re too stunned to do anything besides watch in bewilderment. 

“Teeth.” El finally says,

You giggle, while Dustin simply stares at her as if she’s insane. “What?”

“You have teeth.”

Dustin breaks into a smile. “Oh, you like these pearls?”

When he makes an obscure purring sound with his mouth, you scoff at your brother and roll your eyes alongside Lucas. “Please, never do that ever again.”

“Eleven?” Max now approaches with a warm smile on her face, the most open you’ve ever seen the girl, and extends her hand for El to shake. “Hey, um. I’m Max. I’ve heard a lot about you.”

El looks at you and tilts her head, which you assume means she’s unsure what to do, so you step in. “Max is a friend, sweetheart.”

She eyes Max’s hand, looks up at her again, before bypassing the girl completely and going straight into Joyce’s arms.

You frown, confused by El’s unusual dismissiveness, and look over at Max. Her head is ducked down, embarrassed, and you make a mental note to remind yourself later to ask El what happened. Max is a good girl, they deserve to be friends and you know they’d get along if given the chance.

Joyce cradles El’s head and greets her with tears, and the girl responds the same. After they’ve hugged, El pulls away, her tears now ones of worry. “Can I see him?”

Joyce’s eyes flash to you, and the two of you seem to realize the same thing: it’s no coincidence that El arrived when she did. You think about what Dustin and the kids deciphered in morse code, Will’s hidden message. 

Close the gate. 

El is the only person you know can do it. 

“Go take her to him,” you tell Joyce. “I’ll catch everyone else up.”

The woman nods, her eyes appreciative, before gently guiding El towards Will’s room. 

“I’m assuming I’m ‘everyone’.” Steve says as soon as Joyce and El have left. 

You laugh, finally rejoining his side. “Yeah, pretty much.”

“Alright, catch me up then. Who was the girl and why does she have a bloody nose problem?”

“Her name is Eleven, or El. Besides the Demogorgon, and Demodogs, did we ever discuss El?”

Nancy speaks up from the corner, timid. “I, uh… Didn’t tell Steve a lot. We kinda just, we–we didn’t ever really–”

“I never let Nancy explain, and I was too afraid to ask.” Steve kindly saves Nancy, and something both you and Jonathan take note of. 

“Well,” you clap your hands, dispelling away any remaining tension for both your sake and the kids’ sakes. “El has these powers, she can make things move with her mind, and when she uses them she gets nose bleeds.”

Steve stares at you. “Okay…”

“Mhm. It’s just as insane as it sounds. Remember the whole Upside Down story Dustin and I told you about yesterday? Well, she can travel there and has a connection to it. With her mind. Somehow. I don’t actually know the logistics of it.”

“You’re doing great, bug.” Jonathan’s voice drips with sarcasm, but Dustin hits his chest to shut him up. 

“Thanks, Dustin. Anyways, El has these insane powers and she’s the sweetest, softest person I’ve ever met. We…” your voice trails off now, still getting used to the fact that she’s alive. “We thought we lost her last year, when she killed the Demogorgon and helped bring Will back.”

“But she’s alive.” Steve concludes. 

You nod, a natural smile spreading across your face. “She is.”

“If you say she’s the sweetest person you’ve ever met, then I definitely believe you.”

Steve’s words make you blush, the pure and honest way he says them, and both Dustin and Jonathan cringe. The two boys share a look, both for once on the same page in a long time, and make gagging motions. 

You see this and flick both of their heads. “I know where you both sleep.”

Both boys stick their tongue out at you, and for a moment everything feels normal. Jonathan and Dustin are teasing you, Jonathan’s eyes are lit up, and your brother is carefree again. 

Then Joyce returns to the living room with El and the mood becomes somber again. 

They stand over the kitchen table, El stares down at the piece of paper with the “close gate” on it, and Joyce asks the question you’ve all been wondering. “You opened this gate before, right?”

“Yes,” the girl responds as you and everyone else now join her and Joyce. 

“Do you think if we got you back there, that you could close it?”

El looks between you and Joyce, her gaze stony and resigned. You wonder what else she’s gone through to put such a void within her; like all the other kids, she no longer has a sweet naivety to her.

Then, slowly, El nods. 

– 

“It’s not like it was before. It’s grown. A lot.” Everyone stands in the kitchen, circling around Hopper as he explains exactly what the gate now is. “I mean, that’s considering we can get in there. The place is crawling with those dogs.”

You grab Dustin’s shirt and yank harshly at it. “Don’t you dare–”

“Demodogs.”

Hopper looks at him, sighing. “I’m sorry, what?”

“Please just ignore him.” You plead with the officer, knowing he’s already in a bitchy mood. 

Dustin doesn’t pick up on the anger, though. “I said, uh… Demodogs. Like Demogorgon and dogs.”

“Oh my god,” you groan, rubbing at your temples. You’ve heard this explanation of the word play a million times within the last twenty-four hours. If you have to hear Dustin explain what Demodog means one more time, you think you may murder the kid.

Dustin, unfortunately, continues. “You put them together… it sounds pretty badass–”

“How is this important right now?” Hopper snaps at the boy, which only makes you more annoyed. 

You put your hand up at the old man, closing your fingers together to mimic a mouth being shut. “One more aggressive comment to the thirteen year old and I will show you that Nancy isn’t the only one who can shoot a gun.”

“Uh, Y/N…” Jonathan nervously mumbles, unsure what Hopper’s reaction may be. 

However, the chief simply raises an eyebrow at you, stares you down for a few seconds, before finally seeming to decide that he’s impressed with your bold comment. “I’ll make sure to remember that.”

“I can do it.” El suddenly voices from the other end of the table.

“You’re not hearing me.” Hopper’s shoulders slump. You can tell by his now defeated stance that he has yet to win an argument against El, something that you’re incredibly proud of her for. 

“I’m hearing you. I can do it.”

“Even if El can, there’s still another problem.” Mike speaks up, looking around the table to ensure everyone is listening. “If the brain dies, the body dies.”

Max frowns. “I thought that was the whole point.”

“It is, but if we’re really right about this…”

“Will,” you breathe out quietly with dread, understanding where Mike is going with this.

Mike continues explaining. “I mean, if El closes the gate and kills the mind flayer’s army–”

“Will’s a part of that army.” Lucas finishes as he looks over at you, now knowing why you’ve just exhaled the boy’s name with grief. 

“Closing the gate will kill him.” 

Jonathan tenses at Mike’s words, and you place your hand against the back of his neck in a grounding manner. You can feel his rapid heartbeat against your hand, even from this position, and you play with his hair to try and soothe him. 

He’s terrified of what may happen to his little brother, once again struck with pure terror that he could lose him. You’re not sure how many more times Jonathan can grieve his brother without losing a piece of himself.

Steve, standing on your other side, sees the way your fingers intertwine in Jonathan’s hair. The same way they did earlier with his own hair as you hugged him.

He frowns, looking away. 

Everyone else falls silent as well, Mike’s words hang in the air. Your gaze shifts to Joyce, who has a deep frown on her face, and before you ask her what she’s thinking, she stands up from the table. “Follow me.”

No one says anything as you all follow the woman to Jonathan’s room, where Will lays motionless on top of the bed you’ve slept in for years. His body is stiff, the hospital gown swallows him, and the sight disturbs you. 

You walk over to the boy and kneel next to the bed. It’s in your nature to take care of Will, you do this without even thinking about it. Stroking his forehead, you place a kiss against it as you watch his mom in the doorway.

“He likes it cold.” Joyce mumbles, eying the open window in the room. 

“What?” Asks Hopper, standing behind the woman. 

Joyce looks over at her son now. “It’s what Will kept saying to me. He likes it cold.” Then, as her voice grows stronger, she walks over to the window and slams it shut. “We keep giving it what it wants.”

Nancy and Jonathan walk over to you now, the girl remains standing while Jonathan kneels down next to you. The two of you take turns caressing Will’s forehead as Nancy starts to speak. “If this thing is a virus, and Will’s the host, then…”

“Then we need to make the host uninhabitable.” 

You turn to Jonathan, not at all liking what he’s saying. “What does that even mean? He’s a kid, how do you make a child’s body uninhabitable?”

“He likes it cold.” Nancy says, as if that explains everything. 

“But–”

Joyce clenches her jaw and spits out, “We need to burn it out of him.”

Everything about what Joyce has said makes your stomach twist. You look down at Will’s body, at how small he still is despite a year of trying to get him to recover, and his pale skin is almost translucent in the bedroom’s lighting. 

You hate everything about what’s happening, but you hate the way Will looks lifeless even more. 

If making his body uninhabitable can save him, then you have to try; you’ll simply be there to pick up the pieces when it’s done, as you always are. 

The kids begin planning now.

“We have to do it somewhere he doesn’t know this time.” Mike says. 

“Yeah, somewhere far away.” Dustin adds on. 

“Last I checked, none of us have a hidden hut in the woods.” You say, at a loss for where else to possibly take Will. Then, Hopper clears his throat and shifts his weight. “Oh, no fucking way. You would have a hidden hut in the woods.”

“It’s a cabin.” Hopper corrects with annoyance, though there’s a slight glint in his eye as he looks at you. “Joyce and Jonathan will take Will there.”

“Well, go show them the cabin, then.”

Jonathan grabs your hand. “You’re not coming with?”

As if there’s a string tugging at the back of your head, you turn around and catch Steve’s eye. He’s standing in the doorway, eyes alert yet sad, and you know with everything within you that you can’t leave him behind. 

Not when he was shaking in your arms only twenty minutes prior. 

Steve doesn’t want to be alone, especially not when you’d be leaving him behind with Nancy after it’s become clear that she’s with Jonathan now. 

Now, as Jonathan’s open and expecting eyes stare into yours, you do something you’ve never done before. Something you’ve needed to do ever since you were twelve and grabbed the boy’s hand on the Wheeler’s porch that fateful night.

You let go of Jonathan. 

“I can’t,” you tell him, the words of denial feeling foreign on your tongue. You’ve never told him no before, never left him behind, but saying the words isn’t as difficult as you once feared. “I’ll stay with the kids, I’m better with them anyways.”

Jonathan watches you, his eyes trace over your face again and again as if drinking it in for the very last time. When he seems to find what he’s looking for, he takes a deep breath and nods. “Yeah, okay.”

His understanding of everything you don’t say almost makes you take it all back, but you don’t. Instead, you squeeze his hand and nod towards Nancy. “Why don’t you take Nance?”

Something shifts when you say this, you know Jonathan feels it as well. There’s an ease within the shift, almost akin to a soft exhale in December’s cold. It parts you with a gentle farewell, strokes your cheek as it departs, and you can faintly see its outline as it floats away. 

A thread, one that has tugged within your chest in a painful ache since last year, finally loosens. 

Nancy looks at you, her eyes wide. “Me?”

“Mhm,” you nod at the girl, a kind smile on your face. 

It’s a monumental shift, you’re willingly encouraging Nancy to be next to Jonathan’s side rather than you. It’s an exchange of powers, trusting her to take care of the boy you love so dearly. 

For once, it doesn’t feel like you’re tearing off a piece of yourself. Instead, you’re simply sharing the weight of it, of this trust, rather than losing it.

“I… I think I’ll stay here.” Nancy finally says, looking away in shame.

You don’t blame her, you know she carries a weight of guilt within her for things she couldn’t control. There’s a lot you want to say to her, a lot you have to say to her, but for now you simply nod at her, understanding. “Then I’m happy you’re here.”

And you mean it.

Steve, still quietly standing in the doorway, sees everything. He felt the shift, too.

– 

“You should go with him.” Steve picks up a spare heater, he and Nancy have been sent outside to retrieve whatever they could find from the Byers’ yard. 

The shift weighs heavily upon him. Your words ring in his ears. 

Nancy spares Steve a glance. “What?”

“With Jonathan.” He bends down to dig through some old Christmas lights, and seeing them reminds him of you. Everything reminds him of you. “Y/N’s right. You should go with him.”

“No, I–” Nancy scoffs, uncomfortable. “I’m not just gonna leave Mike.”

Steve thinks about you, about how you’re always the one who stays. “No one’s leaving anyone.” He walks over to Nancy and helps her with a radiator she’s struggling with. “I may be a shitty boyfriend, but… I realized I’m actually a pretty damn good friend and babysitter.”

Though he never says your name, Nancy can feel it hang over the two of them. The unspoken confession that it’s because of you that Steve now accepts what has happened between them. It strikes her then, how different he is now. How differently you and the girl came to know Steve.

Nancy stares at him, her eyes are filled with more remorse than he’s ever seen from the girl. It hurts, seeing her so upset, and he wishes that things could’ve been different. He recognizes now that they didn’t stand a chance, though he’s happy they tried anyways. It was always going to end like this between them.

Steve doesn’t hold any anger towards her, he doesn’t hate her, because he still loves her. 

How could you possibly fault the person you love for finding their own love?

“Steve…” His name comes through as an apology.

“It’s okay, Nance.” Steve means it, he gives her the same blessing that you did. She’s allowed to be happy, you both want her to be happy, and you have each other to lean on now. “Y/N and I will be okay.”

He leaves Nancy standing there.

– 

You’re waiting to say goodbye to El, standing patiently behind Mike as the two of them make promises about coming back. It’s sweet, watching them, until they slowly start to lean in for what you fear is a kiss, so you intervene. 

“Hate to ruin the moment, but I’d like to say goodbye to El, too.”

Mike glares at you. “Couldn’t wait five seconds?”

“A five second kiss is shameful, Wheeler.”

El giggles softly and pulls you into a hug. “I will be careful.”

You kiss her cheek. “Come back this time, okay?”

“I will.” 

Hopper calls the girl over to get in the car so they can leave, and you quickly run over to Jonathan’s car before he can get in. 

When he sees you approaching, he extends his arms out and pulls you in as he always does. No words are needed, he simply holds you so that you’re chest to chest and he can feel every breath you take. “I’ll come home to you.”

You bury your face in his neck, inhale the scent you’ve come to associate with your childhood and warm, sunny days. “I love you.”

“I love you, too.” 

The words ease between the two of you, finally warm after months of being cold. 

Nancy then appears, and when you notice her you break away from Jonathan. “I see you’re joining?”

“I am.” She nods. “Seems I have you to thank.”

You smile and grab her hand. Your grip is firm, but sincere. “Don’t make me regret it, okay?”

Your words are teasing, but Nancy senses the undertones of a warning. Jonathan is your best friend, she has always known this, and she knows how much weight has gone into your trust for her. Nancy understands that you’re giving her something precious to you, and she will forever be indebted for it. 

“I won’t.” She promises. “And good luck with Steve and the kids.”

“Oh, I’ll need it.” You laugh, and any remaining tension that has hung over you and Nancy finally disappears. 

Once Jonathan and Nancy get into the car, you stand on the porch with Steve and everyone else as you watch the cars drive away. 

– 

 You poke around the Byers’ kitchen for some food; your stomach has been rumbling for hours and you’re sure the kids are hungry, too. However, like usual, you come up with nothing. As you dig through a cabinet, Dustin walks into the kitchen and starts clearing out the fridge. 

“What are you doing?” You ask, knowing that this can’t be for anything good. 

Dustin doesn’t answer, continuing to carelessly throw racks of food onto the floor.

“Hey, stop!” As you walk over, Steve suddenly comes rushing in, holding a very dead, and very disgusting, Demodog. 

“Is this really necessary?”

“Absolutely not.” 

Dustin groans at you. “C’mon, Y/N! This is absolutely necessary, it’s a groundbreaking scientific discovery.”

“It is a dead creature, from an alternate universe–” 

“We can’t just bury it like some common mammal, okay? It’s not a dog–”

“Oh, so now it’s not a dog after you’ve stated a million times that it’s a Demodog–”

Steve steps in between you and Dustin. “Alright, alright, enough!” He begins to shove the Demodog into the fridge before you can stop him. “But Dustin, you’re explaining this to Mrs. Byers, alright?”

“You both are idiots,” you mumble, watching as Steve and Dustin pathetically try to make the giant Demodog fit into the fridge. “I’m leaving.”

You’re seriously starting to regret their friendship. 

However, you know when to pick your battles, and as you watch the two boys try to maneuver the body into the fridge, you know that this is not a cause worth fighting for. 

Instead, you exit the kitchen and instruct the rest of the kids to start cleaning the house. It’s a mess, glass shattered everywhere from the dead Demodog and papers thrown haphazardly around during the morse decoding. 

The mess will only add more unneeded stress to Joyce’s life, so as Lucas and Max groan at you for making them do work, you stand your ground and shove a broom into their hands. 

“You suck, you know.” Lucas grumbles, but Max hits his shoulder and holds the dust pan as he sweeps.

As they get to work on the shattered glass, you figure it’s best that you call your mom before you forget again. You know she’s probably worried sick about you and Dustin for disappearing so suddenly without a word. 

However, when you walk over to the wall where the phone normally is, it’s gone. 

“Hey, uh. Where did the phone go?” You ask Dustin, who has finally left the kitchen. “I need to call mom.”

“Oh, Nancy threw it when it rang. She went kinda berserk.”

You look towards where Dustin is pointing and see the phone, in fact disconnected, on the ground across the room. The sight makes you snort. “Guess she really likes throwing phones, huh?”

Your brother doesn’t understand the joke. “What?”

“Nevermind,” you shake your head. There’s no use explaining to the boy about a quick, five second moment from last year. Nancy had done the exact same thing when Steve had tried to call the cops when the Demogorgon originally attacked you. 

Dustin mumbles something about your blood loss making you delusional, but you ignore him and begin sweeping the hallway. You order him to help, and soon the two of you are cleaning the Byers’ home. 

You’ve just finished sweeping when you notice Mike pacing around the room. He’s anxious, that much is obvious, and whenever he begins to pace: trouble soon follows. He’s brewing up a plan, you can feel it. 

After the fifth time the boy has paced the room, Lucas has finally had enough. “Mike, would you just stop already?”

“You weren’t in there, okay Lucas?” Mike stops pacing. “That lab is swarming with hundreds of those dogs.”

“Demodogs–oomph!” Dustin corrects, only to be cut off by your hand clamping over his mouth. 

“Say it again, I dare you.” You warn him before turning towards Mike. “Look, I know it’s nerve wracking, but all we can do right now is trust El’s abilities and wait.”

Lucas nods. “Yeah, the chief will also take care of her.”

“Like she needs protection.” Max quips from the floor, dustpan still in hand.

You feel a hand place itself on the small of your back. The weight of the palm is starting to become familiar to you, the length of the fingers and the way they splay across the span of your back are slowly becoming recognizable. 

Without turning, you know that Steve has joined you. 

“Listen, dude,” he says in a placating voice to Mike. “A coach calls a play in a game, bottom line, you execute it. Alright?”

You wince. While you’re impressed that Steve is trying to intervene and reason with Mike, you know immediately that his approach will fail. Trying to reason with the kid using a sport analogy is like trying to explain magic to a mathematician. 

“Okay, first of all, this isn’t some stupid sports game.” Mike rolls his eyes, which you expected. “And second, we’re not even in the game. We’re on the bench.”

“Right! So–so my point… My point is…” Steve stumbles over his words and Mike’s unwavering insistence. When he can’t think of a better response, he lets out a defeated sigh. “Yeah, we’re on the bench, so–uh, there’s nothing we can do.”

You pity Steve, honestly. It takes years of careful analyzing and strategic planning in order to prepare yourself for an argument against Mike Wheeler. 

Patting his shoulder, step in to help. “What I’m sure Steve means is that while we may be benched, that doesn’t mean we can’t keep the homefront secure.”

“That’s not how sports work, Y/N.” Steve whispers obscenely loud, but quickly shuts up when you glare at him.

“Stupid sports analogy aside, there’s nothing we can do besides keep watch here and wait for everyone to return.” Even though you know you’re saying the right thing, that it’s best you follow Hopper’s order of staying put, even you don’t believe the words you’re saying. “We may not be able to help right now, but later, I promise we will be the best damn homefront ever.”

Dustin clears his throat. “That’s not entirely true.”

You turn to him and a sigh escapes you when you see the plan already forming behind his eyes. “I can’t argue with you, can I?”

“Nope.”

“Great, go on then. Share with the class what you’re thinking.”

“I mean, these Demodogs, they have a hive mind.” Dustin begins. “When they ran away from the bus, they were called away.”

Lucas thinks about this. “So if we get their attention…”  

“Maybe we can draw them away from the lab.” Max concludes, and you take a second to marvel at how seamlessly she’s integrated herself into the party.

However, you then remember what Lucas said. “Wait, what do you mean by ‘get their attention’? Why do those words scare me so much?”

Mike talks over you. “We can clear a path to the gate.”

You have a multitude of questions and Steve seems to be thinking exactly what you are when he loudly exclaims, “Yeah, and then we all die!”

“That’s one point of view.”

“Dustin, that’s quite literally the only way to look at it.” You flick his hat and he swats your hand away.

Steve points at you, nodding in agreement. “That’s a fact.”

“Thanks, Steve–” Mike’s body slams into yours as he runs past you. “Christ, Wheeler!”

“I got it!” The boy shrieks, running out of the room as he wordlessly instructs everyone to follow. He kneels in front of the fridge and points wildly at one of the pictures Will has drawn. “This is where the chief dug his hole, this is our way into the tunnel.”

“Into? What do you mean into?”

Mike shoves past you again and runs into the living room. “Here, right here.” He stands in the middle, where all the pictures have interlocked together to form a center. “This is like a hub. So, you got all the tunnels feeding in here. Maybe if we set this on fire…”

“Fire?” You shriek as Steve quickly follows with, “Oh, yeah that’s a no!”

Dustin, however, is on board with what Mike is planning. “The mind flayer would call away his army.”

“They’d all come to stop us!” Lucas waves his arms madly at you, as if saying this will get you to agree to the plan that’s forming.

You throw your hands up in surrender. “Look, I recognize that we could maybe do something–”

“Hey!” Steve looks astonished that you’re even considering this. 

“I mean, if we can help then I don’t see why we can’t just–”

Mike shakes your arm now, deciding that your hesitation is an agreement. “We then can circle back to the exit! By the time they realize we’re gone–”

“El would be at the gate!” Max now also is looking at you. “C’mon, Y/N. You have to admit that it’s a solid plan.”

You bite your lip. It is. That’s the problem with the Wheelers. They come up with these insanely dangerous and insane plans, yet they’re also always brilliant. You know it’s risky, Hopper could barely even explain the tunnels to you without shaking in fear, but… Who’s to say that the Demodogs won’t simply go after Will and Jonathan at the cabin? Or kill Hopper and El before they even reach the lab.

It’s obvious you can’t just sit here and wait. 

El has to close the gate, that much is certain, and because of this: you have to help her. You have to help everyone, keep them safe. 

“It’s a solid plan,” you finally breathe out, and all the kids start to cheer.

“I knew you were my favorite sister!”

“Dustin, I’m your only sister–”

“Hey! Hey–” Steve pushes himself in between you and the kids, clapping his hands to break up any further conversations. “Hey! This is not happening.”

Mike tries to argue, “But–”

“No, no, no!” Steve places his hands on his hips like a disgruntled father. “No buts. I promised I’d keep you shitheads safe, and that’s exactly what I plan on doing.”

You don’t like the way Steve is speaking to the kids, commanding them as if he’s their parent. “Hey, no. We aren’t doing that.”

“Doing what?” He looks at you, eyes wide as he quickly gathers that he’s upset you. The fight in his voice is gone, replaced with quiet guilt.

“We don’t ever command the kids, not like that, anyways.” You step away from them and pull Steve aside with you to give the two of you some privacy. “Look, I know you promised Nance you’d take care of them, but I also promised Jonathan. We have to help, Steve.”

His face twists with confliction, and the two of you are caught between what Nancy wants and what Jonathan wants. They both want the kids to be safe, but they have different viewpoints of how they expect you and Steve to do so.

Nancy wants to keep her brother out of it, Jonathan wants to save his brother’s life. 

“Y/N…” Steve breathes out, begging you to change your mind. 

The confliction on his face hurts to look at, you hate that you’ve made him feel this way, but you can only shake your head at him. “I’m sorry, but we’re doing this.”

“Yes!” Mike rushes over to you and surprises you with a hug. “This is why I keep you around!”

“Okay, no.” You push the kid away and hold him by the shoulders to ensure he listens to you. “That doesn’t mean I think we should all go down into the tunnels. I’ll go, and Steve will stay here with you guys–”

“What? No! You’re not going down there by yourself, Y/N.” Steve doesn’t understand how you would expect him to ever let you do that. “We’re all on the bench, okay? We’re waiting for the starting team to do their job.”

“This isn’t a stupid sports game.” Mike groans in annoyance before focusing his attention back to you. “And no one in the party gets left behind. If you go, we all go.”

The sincerity in Mike’s voice warms you. He’s defending you, protecting you how you’ve always protected him, and you’ve never been more impressed with his bravery; it’s because of this, his bravery and admiration for you, that you know you have to go into the tunnels alone. 

It would kill you if Mike got hurt, if any of the kids got hurt. 

Steve sees the way your eyes shine at Mike’s words and his stomach twists. He knows he can’t change your mind about going alone, he knows you’d never, ever let anyone get hurt. That you’d lay down your life for these kids and those you love. 

The bloodied cloth wrapped around your rib cage reminds Steve that he’s a part of it all now. You have laid down your life for him.

And he’s never, ever going to let you get hurt because of him again. 

Steve steps forward and gently grabs your arm, he needs you to understand how much your selflessness terrifies him in this moment. “Y/N–”

The revving of an engine cuts him off. 

It’s a familiar sound. You’ve heard this car before. The sound of it has seared itself into your memories. The hair on your arms stands up, and within seconds Max is at the window, looking out in fear. 

“It’s my brother.” Max’s voice is terrified. Not even in the junkyard, when Demodogs had been raining down on you and the kids, had you heard such terror in the girl’s voice. “He can’t know I’m here.”

You’re at her side in a heartbeat, tugging her away from the window. You’ve seen the way Billy acts around Max, you remember the harshness he displayed in the parking lot. The same harshness that left bruises on your waist when he had you pinned against the wall on Halloween. “I won’t let him touch you.”

Your words have a bite to them. Max hears the oath within them, she has never believed anyone when they’ve told her this. “He’ll kill me. He’ll kill us.”

“He won’t.” You promise her, trying to control the pure rage you feel because of her brother. He can do whatever the fuck he wants with you, but he’s hurt Max for the last time. 

Steve watches your exchange with Max and feels his hands clench into fists. Anger fizzes through his body. As you console the girl, your eyes meet his and he nods. With one simple head movement, the two of you have silently agreed to do whatever it takes to ensure that Billy never hurts Max ever again. 

–

“Am I dreaming or is that you, Harrington?”

You’re standing behind Steve. 

Billy hasn’t seen you yet. 

“Yeah, it’s me. Don’t cream your pants.” Steve’s hand tightens around your arm as he guides you further behind him. He doesn’t like that you’re here with him. He hates the way Billy’s eyes roam over your body without any shame. 

But you insisted on coming outside, and Steve has never been able to tell you no. 

You step out from behind Steve and force your hands to rest by your side in nonchalance. “God, I was hoping you’d be allergic to milk.”

Billy raises his eyebrows when he sees you; you’ve surprised him. “Why, it’s always a pleasure seeing you, sweetheart.”

Steve’s clenched fists only tighten when he hears Billy’s nickname for you. He hates the implications behind it, the way he says it with such sickly sweetness that leaves Steve’s stomach feeling raw. 

He can’t imagine how you feel whenever you hear it, and it only makes Steve hate Billy more. 

“It’s never a pleasure for me.” You cross your arms as Billy now stands in front of you and Steve.

The teen laughs darkly and eyes Steve up and down. “What are you doing here, amigo?”

“I could ask you the same thing… Amigo.” His voice carries an air of indifference, but you know that tomorrow there will be indentations in Steve’s palms from his fingernails. 

“Looking for my stepsister.” Billy lights a cigarette and smirks at you. “A little birdie told me she was here.”

“Huh, that’s weird. I don’t know her.”

Billy smirks at Steve’s words and motions over to you. “Yeah, but this little lady does.”

“Max isn’t here.” You say, forcing your anger down to play along with Steve’s indifference. “Have you checked the quarry? A lot of kids like to hang out there.”

Smoke surrounds you as Billy responds, “Don’t know what the hell you’re talking about, Henderson.”

With every dodged question, you’re only angering the teen more. If you and Steve keep this up, you’ll only make everything harder to manage. You try to think of something to distract Billy, but all you know about him is that he’s a sleazy pig with a cigarette addiction. 

Then, it hits you. 

His weird fascination with you. 

If you use it against him, maybe you can get him away from the Byers’ house long enough for Steve and the kids to leave. 

You step closer to Billy, ignoring every part of you that screams in rejection. You’re covered in blood and your hair is probably a mess, but you bat your eyelashes anyways and quirk your head up at Billy with an innocent smile. “I could show you, if you want.”

Just as you hoped, your sudden interest in him catches Billy’s attention. He presses his chest against yours and looks down at you, a pleased smile on his face. “And what would you be showing me, sweetheart?”

“The quarry, silly.” You giggle, trying not to gag at the reek of cigarette smoke. “It’s secluded… No one really goes down there. It’s, well–this is embarrassing.”

You duck your head down and act as if you’re blushing. Billy takes the bait and uses his fingers to lift your head up to look at him again. “Go on, tell me.”

You make a show of biting your lip. “Well, it’s where every teen in Hawkins goes to… Be alone.”

Billy’s eyes darken again, even more interested in what you have to say. He leans down, his lips inches from yours, and you know you have him right where you want him. 

Please, you think. I just want to protect the kids.

His breath fans across your face and he’s about to agree, to have you lead him away and forget all about his bitch of a sister, when Steve roughly pushes him away from you. 

“Max isn’t here, man.” He spits out, his once controlled anger now spilling over the edge. 

You want to scream at him, you almost had Billy. He was seconds away from agreeing, and the stupid idiot pushes him away from you? 

Billy looks between you and Steve and lets out a low chuckle. “Sorry, Harrington. Forgot that she’s yours.”

Steve moves as if to hit him but you quickly grab at his jacket, stopping him. Billy sees this and laughs again. 

“You know, I don’t know… This whole situation, Harrington.” He shrugs, exhales more smoke. “I don’t know. It’s giving me the heebie-jeebies.”

“Oh yeah, why’s that?” 

You’re silent, hand still clutching Steve’s jacket. 

Billy exhales more smoke. “My thirteen year old sister goes missing all day, and then I find her with you in a stranger’s house, alongside Y/N Henderson, the town’s darling, all bloodied and bruised. And you lie to me about it.”

From an outsider’s perspective, you hate how much Billy makes sense. 

To anyone else, this would look incredibly incriminating against Steve.

Yet, Steve still tries to deny it all. “Man, were you dropped too much as a child, or what?”

“I’m assuming he was.” You voice, looking nervously at Billy as he seems to grow more and more volatile. 

“I don’t know what you don’t understand about what Y/N and I have told you. Max isn’t here.”

Billy leans in close to Steve and points with his cigarette towards the house. “Then who is that?”

You and Steve turn, and your heart drops when you see Max and the boys all quickly duck their heads out of the window.

“Shit,” you breathe out, knowing it’s over.

You really hate those kids sometimes.

“Listen,” Steve tries to make up some excuse, but Billy roughly shoves him to the ground.

“I told you to plant your feet.” Bully sneers as he looms over him. You try to help Steve up, but you’re pushed aside as Billy then stomps on Steve’s ankle with a sickening crunch that makes your own wounded ankle sting.

As he storms towards the house, you quickly help Steve up, He pushes you away. “I’ll be fine, go help the kids!”

“But–”

You can’t just leave Steve while he’s hurt, but every time you try to help him up, he bats your hand away.

“Go!”

From inside the house, you hear the kids start to scream, and you reluctantly leave Steve behind and run inside. When you enter, Billy already has Lucas pinned against the wall as all the kids scream at him to let the boy go. Lucas is hitting at the teen’s chest desperately, but nothing is working. 

“Stay away from her.” Billy spits in the boy’s face, who is paralyzed with fear.

“Lucas!” You all but throw yourself onto Billy’s back as you begin hitting and pulling his hair. Anything you can think of, you try, but it’s no use. With Billy’s size and build, you’re nothing but a fucking bug to him. 

“I said get off of me!” Lucas kneels Billy in the groin, sending you and the teen flying back, but at least he’s let go of Lucas. 

You let go of Billy and place yourself between him and the boy, your breath comes out ragged. You don’t know what you’re supposed to be doing. All your mind can think of right now is protecting the kids, but in the midst of screaming and exhaustion and blood loss, you can’t think of anything. 

Billy tries to get to Lucas again, his teeth bared with fury. “You’re so dead, Sinclair. So dead!” 

In your exhaustion and fear, you call out for the only person you can think of. “Steve!”

He’s at your side in a heartbeat, quickly looking at you to make sure you’re okay, before he flings Billy away from you and Lucas. “No, you are!”

Steve’s punch lands perfectly, with a precision far from his pathetic punches thrown last year against Jonathan. It’s incredibly hot.

Billy begins to laugh in a manic manner that frightens you, but all of his attention is now on Steve, so you use this opportunity to drag Lucas over to the rest of the kids and make sure everyone is okay. 

You trust that Steve has everything else handled, but you make sure to keep an eye on him anyways while you take care of the kids. 

“Are you okay?” You check Lucas over for any injuries, who numbly nods as he’s still in shock, while Billy screams something about always wanting to meet King Steve. 

“Get out.” Despite Steve’s leveled voice, his tone is vicious. 

Billy swings again, but Steve manages to duck just in time before he lands yet another punch to the boy’s face. 

“Yes!” Dustin shouts with glee, but you remember the fight from last year. How Steve had lost miserably against Jonathan. A boy half of Billy’s size. 

While you’re impressed with Steve’s fighting improvement, you’re not sure how longer he’ll be able to keep this up. When more punches land on Billy and all he does is laugh menacingly, you know you don’t have a lot of time left.

You’re fucking terrified. 

The kids are still cheering Steve on when you turn to them, panicked. “You guys need to leave. Now.”

“What? But Steve’s winning!” Dustin says as Steve’s fist connects with Billy’s jaw. 

The sound makes you feel sick. 

You’re pleading now, terror clawing at your throat as you do so; your words slur together. “Leave, sneak out, and–and go through the front door and hide. Get help, okay? Just, go and find someone while Steve and I handle this–”

The sound of glass breaking against Steve’s head alerts you that your time is up. 

Billy hadn't been fighting back before. But now? He’s angrier than you’ve ever seen him. 

As Steve stumbles back in pain, you try pleading with the kids again. You don’t want them to see any more of this, of what might be about to happen. This isn’t just some fight between two teen boys. You know Billy better than that. 

He’s out for fucking blood. 

“Dustin, take everyone outside now!”

“We can’t just leave you!” Mike shouts and the others all nod. 

You want to cry. “We don’t have time for this, just–”

“Shit!” Dustin knocks against you as he dodges a punch meant for Steve. 

Steve crashes into the Byers’ bookshelf and you’re practically shoving the kids out of the door so that you can go and help, but they refuse to leave you and Steve behind. 

Billy has Steve by his jacket. “No one tells me what to do.”

With a sickening thud, he bashes his head into Steve’s and sends him flying to the ground. 

“Steve!” There’s blood pooling from his head and you’re gripped by fear so intense that you’re afraid you’ll pass out any second. 

Billy is relentless, now standing over Steve as he lands punch after punch. Every time his fists slam against Steve’s face, you feel them land against yours as well. Billy’s screaming like a fucking maniac and none of the kids are listening to you and Steve is getting bloodier by the second.

You’re torn. 

Dustin and the kids are staring at you, eyes wide with fear, and the front door is open; you could take the kids and run, but Steve is lying motionless on the ground.

It’s either him or the kids.

And yet it’s the easiest decision you’ve made all night.

“Get off of him!” You throw yourself onto Billy’s back for the second time tonight. 

You yank at his hair and try to scratch his face, but within seconds Billy throws you over his shoulder. “You demented bitch.”

Your head catches on the edge of a coffee table and you land with a thud on the ground. Almost immediately you feel blood drip from your eyebrow and you groan. Fuck. Definitely another concussion, but when you look over at Steve, he looks worse than you feel, and you force yourself to get up. 

Billy watches as you pathetically try to stand, and he laughs with cruelty. “What, want some more, sweetheart?”

More blood drips down your face and you feel the scratches on your rib cage re-open. Every bone in your body aches, but you pull out your switchblade and extend its knives. Your fingers skim over the engraving on its handle, reminding you to use the weapon with love. 

“This is your last chance.” You clutch at your side, hoping you look more intimidating than you feel. “Leave my family alone.”

Billy sees your knives and laughs at you. “Am I expected to believe that you’d actually hurt me?”

Your grip tightens around your switchblade. No one ever believes that you could be so cruel, so vicious. Billy is looking at you as if you’re some pathetic little girl, as if you haven’t killed Demodogs and Demogorgons. He’s looking at you as if you aren’t the sole reason everyone you know and love is alive.

You were once told to use the switchblade with love, that there was never any room for love when it came to violence. 

Now, as the kids are screaming at you to run and the pool of blood around Steve continues to grow, the onslaught of love that is always within you overtakes the fear. 

“I warned you.” With one quick movement, you swat at Billy and cut deeply into his shoulder.

He lets out an enraged scream and instinctively his fist goes flying. Pain erupts in your left eye and you know that you’ll have the worst time ever trying to explain to your mom later how you got a black eye. 

“Fuck!” You groan, dodging every other punch that Billy throws your way as he starts to approach you. With one eye quickly swelling up and the other blinded by blood, you do your best to stumble away from Billy, but it’s no use. 

Your foot catches on the carpet and almost as quickly as you fall, Billy is right there to wrap his hands around your throat and squeeze. You inhale sharply and panic overtakes you as you claw at his hands, drawing blood from him as well, but his fingers only tighten. 

“Y/N!” Dustin’s vocal chords strain from how loud he screams your name.

Billy seems to get a kick out of hearing your brother plead for your life, and he squeezes even tighter as you flail. “Not so tough now, are you?”

You struggle to free yourself, to do anything, but you can’t. 

For the first time since Will went missing, you truly believe that you’re about to die.

Steve is practically dead on the ground below you, he’s bleeding so much from his head that you’re terrified he’ll never wake up, and the kids are defenseless as they scream with tears in their eyes. 

Your baby brother is about to watch you die. 

Spots begin to form in your vision and it’s getting harder and harder to move your limbs. To make them do as you command. 

You know it’s your brain shutting down from the lack of oxygen. 

I hope Jonathan doesn’t blame himself.

Your world fades to black. 

Billy screams.

And you feel your body drop to the ground.

– 

The first time you wake up, it’s to Dustin huffing as he tugs at your arm. “God, you’re heavier than you look.”

You promptly pass back out. 

The second time, it’s dark outside and you register that you’re cold, but your eyes sting and you’re out again.

You wake up a few more times, always in a daze, and never more for a few seconds at a time, before the feeling that you’re moving wakes you up for good. 

It takes a moment for your eyes to adjust to the dark, your left eye barely even opens, and the pounding in your head is blinding in itself. Blinking a few times, you look down and finally notice that Steve is sprawled on your lap. You’re in the backseat of someone’s car. 

Your head is resting against someone’s shoulder. When you try to lift it to see who it is, you feel someone gently guide your head back down. “Shh, it’s okay. Don’t move too fast, alright? Don’t want you yacking on us.”

“Dustin?” You immediately regret trying to speak. Your voice comes out hoarse and raw and the pain is so intense that it only makes your head pound more.

“Right here, sis. Try not to speak, you sound like a frog.”

You try to sit up again, forgetting that Steve is sprawled on top of you, and your movements cause him to wake up. When his eyes manage to blink open, he tilts his head at you and mumbles, “Nancy?”

“Wha–” Again your voice cracks and you feel so delirious. Are you Nancy?

Steve attempts to wipe away the blood on his face but Dustin stops him with a gentle chiding. “No, don’t touch it.”

Steve brings a shaky hand up to your face and carefully rests it against your cheek. “You’re… You’re bleeding.”

Dustin puts the hand down. “Hey, buddy. Y/N is bleeding, good job. You’re bleeding, too. It’s okay though, you put up a good fight. I mean, he kicked your ass but you put up a good fight.”

Your brother’s words ring in your ears. He’s saying so much and you’re trying to swallow down the vomit that threatens to spill out. 

“Okay, you’re gonna keep straight for half a mile, then make a left on Mount Sinai.” A voice rings out, one different from Dustin’s. 

Was that Lucas?

“What’s going on?” Steve slurs, trying to process everything happening. He blearily looks back up at you. “Who’s driving?”

“Not me,” you manage to croak out.

A beat of silence passes. 

Then, at the same time, you and Steve realize: Max is the one driving. 

You’re more awake now and you try to say more, but your throat has swollen shut from speaking and it feels like it’s on fire. 

Thankfully, Steve is here to say everything you can’t. “Oh my god!”

“Just relax, she’s driven before.” Dustin reassures, slapping your hand away when you try to reach over to the driver’s side. 

“Yeah, in a parking lot.” Mike says, and you notice he’s also here now. 

“That counts.”

You want to scream at Max to pull over and demand the keys from her, but your bruised throat prevents you while your bleeding rib cage traps you in. While you can’t say anything, all Steve can say is, “Oh my god.”

“They were gonna leave you guys behind–”

“Oh my god.”

“But I promised that you’d be cool, okay?” Again Dustin slaps your hand away and all but shoves his leg over you so that you remain seated. 

Max then presses down on the gas pedal and the car increases its speed, which only makes the entire situation worse. 

Steve, rightfully, freaks out. “Whoa, whoa, whoa! What’s going on? Stop the car, slow down!”

You twist in your seat and blindly grab at Steve’s hand, both thanking him for voicing all that you can’t and also to try and prevent the poor boy from passing out again. 

“I told you he’d freak out! At least Y/N shut up!” Mike shouts over at Dustin. 

While you’re flattered that you’re officially cooler than Steve in Mike’s eyes, if you had a functioning throat right now, you’d be letting out some very choice words. 

“Stop the car!” Steve screams again, but the little rainbow bandaids on his cheek take away from his commanding nature. 

You hope that Dustin at least chose some pretty bandaids for your face. 

“Everybody shut up! I’m trying to focus!” Again, Max doesn’t at all help the situation at hand. 

“Wait, that’s Mount Sinai. Make a left!” Lucas points to where Max needs to go and you wonder why they trusted the girl, who just moved to Hawkins a week ago, to know where to go. 

“What?”

“Make a left!” Lucas screams, and Max quickly yanks the car to the left.

You, Steve, and the kids all scream as she hits what you hope is a mailbox. As the car jerks, you topple onto Steve and let out a painful, weird mix of a croak and shriek as the car continues to turn. Dustin tries to steady himself against you as he screams and Steve fully grabs your waist and uses you to shield himself from danger.

What a hero. 

Then, you almost go flying out of the windshield as Max suddenly stops the car. 

“Hello!” Steve exclaims, gripping you tightly still. 

Dustin giggles. “Whoa!”

“Incredible,” Mike breathes out. 

Meanwhile, you think your heart fell out of your ass about five blocks ago. 

“I told you. Zoomer.” Max smirks with pride. 

“She terrifies me,” you whisper, and Steve nods in agreement. 

The kids begin getting out of the car and seem to have some unspoken plan being set into motion. Dustin pats your shoulder before leaving you behind with Steve as the others go towards the trunk. 

Not knowing what the fuck is happening, you kick Steve so that he falls off of you and onto the grass so that you can follow after your brother. When you get out the car, you march over towards where all the kids are standing and silently demand an explanation. 

Mike notices you first. “What? Cat got your tongue?”

You refrain from shoving his face in the mud and point towards the goggles he’s holding. He sighs and hands it to you while Dustin ties a bandana around your neck and Max grabs a gallon of gasoline. 

Seems like they’re sticking to the plan from earlier, then.

When Steve realizes this, as he is gripping onto the car for dear life, he whines. “Oh, no. Guys.”

Everyone ignores him and he continues to try to stop what’s happening. You hobble over to him, a new wave of nausea and pain washing over you, and lean against him helplessly. There’s no use trying to explain to him that the party won’t listen. For now, you simply relish in his presence and enjoy how he feels against you. 

“We are not going down there right now!” Steve, though gentle to not jostle you around too much, waves his hands in the air as he screams at Max. “I made myself clear. There is no chance we’re going to that hole, alright?”

Similar to last year, Steve begins to spiral in his fear. He wraps his arms around you and places you against the car before he runs over to Dustin and throws that backpack that’s in the kid’s hands. “This is not happening!”

You slowly walk over and grab the thrown backpack, hoping that Dustin can reason with the teen. 

“Steve, you’re upset. I get it, but the bottom line is that a party member requires assistance and it is our duty to provide that assistance.” When you join Dustin’s side, he helps you put the goggles on and brings your bandana up over your mouth. “Now, I know you promised Nance that you would keep us safe. So keep us safe.”

He hands Steve the backpack you retrieved. 

Steve looks between you and your brother. You both look absolutely ridiculous in your get up, and he knows he has no other choice but to agree. His eyes meet yours and he silently asks if you’re sure about this, he will always look to you for the answers. 

You nod, hoping that the small head shift is conveying what you physically cannot say.

I’m here, the kids need us, and I need you with me.

Steve hears it, sighs, and grabs the backpack from your hands. 

“Well, let’s get going.” He motions for you and Dustin to lead the way. 

– 

“I got you,” Steve’s voice is soft as his hands graze your waist. He’s standing below you, already having jumped into the tunnels so that he can help you climb down the rope safely. You’re not sure if it’s his touch, or the way his voice drips with promises to protect you, or the simple fact that you’re bleeding and bruised that makes your body weak. 

“Drop me and die.” Your knuckles are white as they clutch the rope, your body shaking with exhaustion as you try to ease your way down without further injuring your ribs. 

Steve laughs and tightens his grip on your waist, steadying you as you finally inch the rest of the way down and land with a gentle thud onto the ground. “Like I’d ever dream of letting you go.”

This time, you know it’s his words that cause you to shiver, not the exhaustion and pain. 

“Ahem.”

Turning around, you see Dustin glaring at you and Steve while Lucas is stifling laughs. You roll your eyes at them and step away so that you aren’t standing so close to Steve, and he seems to think the same and distances himself as well. 

“Holy shit,” Steve breathes out, now finally examining the tunnels. 

It takes your breath away as well. The tunnels are terrifying, but oddly kind of cool. There’s a dim light within them, almost ghostly, and yet it’s beautiful in a way that you can’t quite describe. Small particles float through the air, and you reach your hand out to feel them against your skin. It tickles, akin to snowflakes, and the reminder makes you yearn for winter again. 

Mike’s flashlight distracts you as he shines it towards a random section of the tunnel. “Yeah. I’m pretty sure it’s this way.”

“You’re pretty sure, or you’re certain?” Dustin asks, doubtful. 

“I’m 100% sure, just follow me and you’ll know.”

As soon as Mike’s declaration of leading leaves his lips, you and Steve share and look and immediately stumble towards the boy. 

Like hell you’re letting him lead. He’s a child, and he’s also incredibly horrible at navigating. Last time you let him guide the way, you ended up finding El in the middle of the woods. 

“Whoa, whoa, whoa!” Steve flashes his light at Mike. “I don’t think so.”

“What?”

“Any of you little shits die down here, I’m getting the blame. Got it, dipshit?” Steve takes the map from Mike’s hands and then looks over at you. “I guide, you take the rear?”

You nod. “Good luck.”

Steve smiles, his sarcastic bravado now gone, before he suddenly clears his throat once more and shouts. “From here on out, I’m leading the way while Y/N makes sure none of you idiots get lost. Come on.”

The kids groan and roll their eyes at him, but they fall into line and do as they’re told. 

Dustin walks in front of you and offers you his hand. He knows the uneven terrain will only increase the chances of your ankle acting up. “How’s the ankle?”

“Hurts,” you rasp, accepting his hand as you hobble along. He hums and helps you navigate, the goggles covering his nose makes him sound nasally. “Did I put up a good fight at least?”

Your throat strains to get all the words out, but Dustin seems to understand what you’ve said and laughs. “Yeah, you did a much better job than Steve–What the hell?”

Dustin stops walking and suddenly looks up. Unsure what he’s seen, you look up as well and gasp. Above you rests a giant flower-bud looking thing, except it’s pulsing in a very concerning and gross way and is the size of a car. When it starts to expand even larger, you realize before your brother does what it’s about to do; you tug at his hand and try to run away, but Dustin doesn’t move.

Then, in one grand blow, the bud explodes and releases what you can only imagine are pollen spores, and they spray all over Dustin. “Shit!” He falls to the ground, screaming and rolling around as if he’s just been shot, and all you can do is stand there and silently wait for him to calm down enough for you to talk to him. “Help! Y/N, help!”

You motion to your throat, but Dustin gags and scrambles to stand up before promptly falling back down again in his haste. 

Steve and the others have now joined and everyone is crowding over your brother with worry. “Dustin? What happened?”

“Pollen.” You croak, and Steve looks even more confused now. 

“It’s in my mouth!” Dustin spits onto the ground and coughs, wheezing every few breaths. “Some of it got on my mouth. Shit!”

Mike points his flashlight at you. “Any more useful insight from Kermit the frog?”

You glare at him, although the nickname is funny and you hate that it’s clever. You clear your throat, cringe at the sting it sends down your body, and respond, “Rose-bud thing. Exploded. He’s fine.”

Everyone tilts their head at you, not at all understanding what you’re trying to say, and you groan. It’s incredibly frustrating that Billy left you unable to say a goddamn thing without immeasurable pain. You honestly would’ve preferred that he stab you or something, because your intelligence and wit are so crucial to who you are as a person. 

Plus the whole Kermit the frog thing kind of sucks, regardless of how funny it will be later. 

“I’m fine.” Dustin gasps out. “As Y/N said, a rose-bud thing sprayed me.”

“You guys serious?” Max shakes her head, at a loss for why she’s even here. 

“Very funny, man.” Steve looks at you and teases, “And Y/N, I expected more from you.”

You give him the finger. “Dustin, not me.”

“Mhm,” he’s starting to walk away again, resuming his leader position through the tunnels, but he sends you a wink. “C’mon, Hendersons.”

The rest of the kids follow after him while you help Dustin up and wipe him off. He’s a mess, and he’s clearly still frightened, but he seems reassured by your presence and begins to calm down. When he’s ready, you and Dustin follow.

The tunnels are long, windy, and incredibly disturbing to be in. You can’t believe that something this intricate and vast has been laying underneath Hawkins for god knows how long. The ground beneath your feet is squishy and it takes both Dustin’s hand and immense concentration to not trip. 

Steve leads, his flashlight serving as a beacon to focus on despite the pounding in your head. The bandana tied over your nose only makes the ringing in your ears worse, but you’ll leave inhaling mysterious Upside Down particles to your brother. 

After a few minutes of walking, you’re starting to fear that the poorly drawn map from Mike really is just a poorly drawn map. Then, Steve stops. “Alright, Wheeler. I think we found your hub.”

You flick your flashlight around and your eyes widen. It’s huge. In the center lies a mound of what you hope is just mud, but you see a bone or two stick out from it and look away. To your left, there’s easily five or six more tunnels, each varying in width and height, and to your right is the same. 

Seeing how vast the tunnel system is, you’re thankful for Mike’s genius little brain. 

“Let’s drench it!” Except the vigor in his voice frightens you and you consider that he may be the world’s next mad scientist. 

However, a plan is a plan and you’ve already made it this far, so you set to work on spraying the area with gasoline. Between you, Steve, and the kids, within minutes you’ve created the world’s most flammable labyrinth. 

When you’re done, Steve guides the kids back towards the exit and you make sure everyone’s behind the two of you. He kneels, flicks out his lighter, and turns to everyone. “Alright, you guys ready?”

“Ready,” Max and Lucas say.

Dustin tightens his hand around yours, preparing to help you run as fast as you can with your ankle. “Light her up.”

Steve flicks his lighter open. “I am in such deep shit.”

“Together.” You nudge him with your shoe, and even though his face is hidden, you know he smiles. 

He takes a deep breath, winds his arm back, and flings the lighter into the center of the hub. 

Immediately everything bursts into flames. In the blaze, the strange roots that had been lying dormant on the ground now come to life as they flail against the heat. They twist and whip around, writhing in pain. The tunnels themselves almost seem to come to life as it writhes in pain. 

“Go, go, go!” Steve yells, pushing everyone back to start running. 

You stay behind with him, making sure all the kids have started to run before you finally let Dustin tug you along as well. The boy is screaming, hopping and dodging roots as best as he can while squealing, “Oh my god, oh my god, oh my god!”

Steve takes the lead now, having somehow memorized the way out. “Let’s go!”

You’re disoriented. Dustin’s hand is gripping yours so harshly and it’s taking everything within you to keep up, but your ankle throbs and your left eye has only continued to swell from the punch earlier. It’s becoming increasingly difficult to follow along, and in your disorientation you lose track of Mike. 

When he falls, everything within you snaps back into focus. You tear your hand from Dustin’s and you’re at Mike’s side in a heartbeat, but already the roots have started to wrap around his leg; he screams. “Help! Y/N, help me!”

Your hands shake as you reach for your switchblade, adrenaline runs through you so violently that you feel lightheaded. Mike’s screams are the only thing keeping you grounded right now. As he panics, you roughly grab his shirt and force him back before you start to hack at the root with your knives. 

“Pull him back!” Steve instructs the kids, who have now joined. “Y/N, watch out!”

You have just enough time to cut through one root before dodging Steve’s bat as he hits at the other. It takes a few swings, but with one final blow, you and the kids are able to pull Mike free and help him stand back up. 

“You good?” Lucas pants, patting Mike’s shoulders for any injuries while Dustin asks, “You okay?”

You pull Mike into you and quickly hug him, damning whatever time constraint you currently have against you. Your hands are still shaking, which Mike feels, and he gives you a quick pat before pulling away. “Glad you care, but–”

“We gotta go!” Steve steps between you two, bat still in hand, when a growl erupts from behind him. 

Dustin shoves everyone behind him before you can stop him. He’s recognized the growl before you have. “Dart.”

The Demodog growls again. He’s bigger than ever before, now practically fully grown. His growth distracts you long enough to miss Dustin slowly starting to approach him. When you do, you immediately try to stop him. 

“Dustin–” Fear overtakes you.

“Steve, hold her back.” He orders. “Just trust me, okay?”

Steve’s arms wrap around you and you try to fight back. “No–”

“Y/N,” he whispers into your ear, keeping an eye on your brother as well. “If you freak out now, Dustin will get hurt.”

He’s right, you know he’s right, but your brother is only a foot away from Dart now and he’s now smaller than the creature. One wrong move, and he’s dead.

Dustin kneels in front of Dart and you feel your heart drop. You don’t dare breathe as he takes off his goggles and mask and leans in closer to the creature. “Hey, it’s me. It’s just your friend, it’s Dustin.”

Dart slowly inches forward as Dustin continues to talk. “You remember me? Will you let us pass?”

This time, Dart’s entire mouth opens as he snarls at Dustin.

Again you struggle in Steve’s arms, but he only tightens his hold on you as you watch your baby brother, terrified, face off against the Demodog. 

“Okay, okay, I’m sorry.” Dustin lowers his voice, unwavering against Dart’s malice. “I’m sorry about the storm cellar. That was a pretty douchy thing to do. I blame Y/N, she’s always the one who makes me do the right thing.”

The little shit has you scared out of your fucking mind, and yet he has the nerve to somehow make this your fault.

If he gets out of this alive, you’re never, ever letting him go again. 

Dustin reaches into his backpack, eyes never leaving Dart. “You hungry?

“He’s insane,” Lucas whispers in awe. Both you and Steve tell him to shut up, scared that any noise will cause Dart to attack.

“I’ve got our favorite.” Dustin waves the candy in front of Dart’s face. “See? Nougat.”

As soon as the Demodog sees the candy bar, his demeanor shifts and he happily approaches Dustin. Within seconds, your brother has managed to re-tame his weird Upside Down pet, and for a brief second you feel bad that Dustin can’t keep him. 

“Look at that. Yummy!” He places the candy on the ground as a peace offering and he starts to motion behind him, waving for you and everyone else to start moving. “Eat up, buddy.”

Steve guides Lucas, Max, and Mike past Dart and through the tunnel that was previously blocked by him, but you stay behind. Your knives are drawn; you’re not leaving your brother’s side. 

“There’s plenty,” Dustin coos to the creature, placing down one last candy bar before standing up. When he sees that you’re still there, he grabs your hand and starts to walk away with you. Feeling his hand, warm and alive against yours, is enough to calm you down enough to follow. Before the two of you leave, however, Dustin turns around one last time to look at Dart, a sad smile on his face. “Goodbye, buddy.”

Dart doesn’t show any reaction, too busy devouring the candy he’s been given, and you gently tug Dustin along to safety, albeit with some guilt. He really loved that little lizard thing. 

As soon as the two of you are out of danger, you pull Dustin into a bone crushing hug. “You’re stupid.”

“Stupid brave,” he mumbles against you, though his arms are tight against your waist. He had been scared, too. 

You snort and pull your bandana down so you can kiss the top of Dustin’s head. “Just stupid.” 

“Guys, we gotta go.” Steve whispers, feeling bad for interrupting your moment with the kid. He can still feel the way your body shook in his arms, how he could hear your terrified heartbeat as he held you back. He felt horrible for doing it, but he promised Nancy he’d keep the kids safe, and Steve knows that she also wanted him to protect you, too.

At Steve’s urgent whisper, you reluctantly nod and pull away from Dustin. With one last shoulder squeeze, you pat his back and tug at his hand to start running. As you run, the ground trembles beneath your feet. You’re the first one to fall, Max and Lucas not far behind. “Fuck!” 

Steve has your hand within his in seconds and he gently pulls you up. His face is obscured from the goggles and banana, yet you can see the concern when he looks at you. When he stands you back up, he pulls you close and whispers, “You okay?”

You nod, about to tell him to keep running, when you hear the first screech of the Demodogs. 

“What was that?” Max inches towards your side, now long familiar with what the screeches mean. 

As if almost in response to the girl, more screeches follow as they echo through the tunnels. Only this time, there’s more of them; more than you’d even want to imagine. The hair on your arms stands up as the screeching continues. You know that if you don’t run now, none of you will stand a chance. 

“They’re coming.” Mike realizes. “Run! Run, let’s go!”

You snatch Dustin’s hand and practically throw the kid forward with how harshly you begin running. Lucas and Max run past, while Mike follows after Steve. Your footsteps fall harshly against the tunnel’s earthy ground and it takes everything within you to keep going. When you round the corner and see the rope, you almost sob with relief. 

“Kids first!” You shout, damning whatever further damage it’ll do to your vocal chords.

Steve understands immediately and kneels beneath the rope to give the kids a boost up while you hold the rope taught and help lift them. Max is the first up, both you and Steve more so throwing her rather than helping her.

“C’mon!” Steve encourages her, and with one final shove from you, she makes it over the edge and is safe. 

Everything happens so fast, it’s a blur as you help Lucas start to climb out, then Mike, and as you’re hauling Dustin up next, you hear the Demodogs drawing near. 

“Oh, shit!” Steve hears them as soon as you do and he grabs for his bat and starts to place himself in front of you and Dustin, but you stop him. 

“No!” You yank him back and then grab your brother, shoving him underneath the rope. The shadows of the Demodogs cast against the wall, you know you only have seconds before they’re here. “Throw him up!”

Dustin realizes what you’re about to do. “Y/N, no–”

But Steve already has a grip on him. “You’re going home.”

“No!” Dustin screams and tries to stay behind, wriggling and thrashing, but with Steve’s help, you’re able to lift him to safety before the first Demodog appears. Dustin, now safely above ground, sees this too. His heart stops. “Y/N!”

“Steve! Y/N! Climb up!” The kids begin to shout now, urging you and the teen to get out of the tunnels, fear alive in their voices. 

You look up at them, see their faces alive with youth, and then turn to Steve. He seems to be thinking the same thing as you. You’ve both run out of time. He nods, you do as well, and together you’ve accepted your fate. Steve draws his bat as you raise your knives. 

“Y/N!” Dustin’s voice rings through clearer than the other’s, the despair evident. You close your eyes for a second, wishing that there was more you could’ve done, but at least he’s safe.

Jonathan will take care of him, Nancy will, too. 

He won’t be alone, and you have Steve with you, who is holding your hand as if it contains all the secrets of the world.

It’ll be okay. 

You open your eyes. 

The Demodogs, miraculously, start to run right past you and Steve. They weave between you two, not at all paying any attention. You stand as still as possible, not wanting to wake them from whatever trance they seem to be in. 

However, one particularly large Demodog crashes against your leg and sends you into Steve’s side, who wraps his arms around you with a fierce protectiveness. You duck your head down, unaware just how desperately you’d been craving his presence, and he buries you further against him as the monsters continue to run. 

The two of you cower, curling into one another, steadying the other, waiting for something to happen. Steve has his feet firmly planted and stands his ground as more monsters run past, and without him you would’ve fallen minutes ago, trampled by the creatures. 

When you can’t hear any more Demodogs, you slowly lift your head from Steve’s chest and look around. 

They’re gone. Each and every one of them has left. 

You’re still in Steve’s arms, your chests are pressed tightly together and you’ve never been this close to him before. When you look up at him, you can feel his breath against your skin. There’s an odd look in his eyes, he’s studying your face as if seeing it for the first time, and his gaze makes something deep within you stir. 

“Thank you,” you whisper, needing to say something. He’s once again saved your life, and your eyes can’t seem to leave his. 

His fingers dig into your side, it’s the only way he can respond. The sensation causes you to shiver and your eyes slowly drift down to his lips. They’re a lovely shade of pink, flush and full. You wonder what they’d taste like, if he’s wondered the same about you. 

Steve stares down at you and feels every breath you take, the rise and fall of your chest matching his. The two of you stand like this for a moment, hearts beating together as you cling to one another, until Dustin clears his throat. 

“Ahem,” he draws your attention. “There are kids here, ya know.”

Lucas, Max, and Mike all snicker when you frantically pull away from Steve in embarrassment. Both of your faces are red, the air between you still hangs with something you’re not quite sure how to name. 

“We’re coming.” Steve mumbles to your brother before turning to you. “Ready?”

You take a deep breath and nod, your nerves still shaky from being so close to him prior. When you’re ready, you grab onto the rope and feel Steve’s always gentle hands grip your waist. You’re slow climbing up, being the most injured out of everyone, but he’s patient with you and murmurs encouragement as you climb. 

Once you’re safely up, you help the kids with Steve. The moment his feet touch solid land, he lets out a low whistle and claps his hands. “Well, I’d say that went well–”

Suddenly, Billy’s headlights begin to shine obnoxiously bright. The light increases in its intensity, glowing brighter and brighter, so much so that you and everyone else have to shield your eyes. Then, just as suddenly as it began, the lights shut off. 

It’s quiet. No one says anything, unsure of what’s just happened, but you know.

“El,” you whisper, somehow knowing it’s her. Mike nods, understanding as well. 

She did it. 

She closed the gate. 

You pull the kids into you, dragging them all in your arms in a giant hug. All you feel right now is disbelief. The plan worked. You’re all somehow still alive. 

Steve stands behind you, his chest firm against your back, and you allow yourself to gently lean against him. To accept all that he’s silently providing you; there’s no point in fighting it any more. He’s here, offering you anything you need from him, and you’re exhausted from pretending that you don’t see it. 

After a few moments of silence, you finally release the kids and nudge them towards the car. 

It’s time to go home. 

– 

“So what exactly did you guys do with Billy?” Steve’s driving and you’re in the passenger seat, waves of exhaustion crashing upon you. From the rearview mirror, Steve sees Lucas, Dustin, and Mike all turn to Max slowly. He frowns. “Why are you all looking at her?”

Max shifts uncomfortably in her seat. “I handled it.”

“She sedated him and we left him on the floor at Will’s.” Dustin fills in the information that Max opted to omit, which she elbows him for. 

Steve blinks, turns to you, and asks, “You heard that too, right?”

“Mhm.”

“Cool.”

When you get to Jonathan’s, Billy is sitting hunched over on the porch, waiting. He looks rough, his eyes bleary and his hair matted. When you see him, you feel your throat constrict in pain and a sense of panic builds within you. You look towards Steve, see his bruised cheek, then notice the way Max squirms in the backseat being near Billy, and the panic is replaced with anger. 

He’s caused enough pain and turmoil to those you love. 

Steve parks the car and turns in his seat so that he’s facing everyone. “Alright, we all see that Billy is awake, so you guys stay here while I go and–”

“We.” You correct, swallowing down the pain you feel. 

Steve inhales and looks as if he wants to argue, but he just shakes his head and continues. “Okay, we go and talk to the guy.”

“I want to come.” Max says, though she still refuses to look in Billy’s direction. 

You rest a hand on her leg. You understand what she’s asking for, to handle her brother herself, take her life into her own hands. Max is a brave kid, she’s shown you that much tonight, and while you trust her to make the right decision, you’re still hesitant. “Are you sure?”

She thinks for a second before nodding. Her eyes harden and she juts her jaw out. She’s made up her mind, and you get a kick out of seeing the fire within her. Max Mayfield is an incredible young girl, and you’re honored to know that she trusts you. “I’m sure.”

“Then let’s go.”

You, Steve, and Max walk side by side towards Billy, though you make sure to place the girl slightly behind you in case her brother tries anything. 

When Billy notices you approach, he lifts his head up and waves lazily at the three of you. “Back already?” His words slur together and his eyes are glossy; the sedative must still be wearing off. 

Max steps forward. “Take me home.” 

Billy eyes her, looks between you and Steve, and then sighs. “Fine. Any other demands?”

The girl shakes her head. “I’ll wait in the car.”

And then she’s gone, leaving you and Steve alone with Billy. 

He eyes you, sees the bruises on your neck, and a languid smile drawls across his face. “Seems I left a mark, sweetheart.”

Steve steps forward, but you put your hand out and stop him. You appreciate him, you do, but this is something you have to do yourself. You swallow again, feeling the tender flesh within your throat constrict, and try to make your words come out as neutral as possible. “Seems I did, too.”

Billy looks down at his shoulder, the wound from your knife is still bleeding. “So you did.”

Lucas and the other boys stand off to the side now, having left the car alone for Max. When Billy notices them staring, he sighs and wipes his hands off on his jeans and slowly gets up. “Well, my bitch of a sister awaits.”

As Billy leaves, Mike runs up the steps and unlocks the front door. “Y/N, think you could make those cookies again? I’m starving.”

You glare at him and Steve laughs. “I’m not sure she can even walk up the steps, dude.”

“Yeah, look at her.” Dustin waves his hands in front of you. “She looks like a zombie.”

Lucas makes zombie sounds and pretends to eat Dustin’s brains before Mike joins in. The three of them chase each other into the house, screaming “brains” and “die” as they mess around, leaving you and Steve alone outside. 

He steps in front of you, his back towards you and he crouches down. “Care for a ride?”

You want to argue, but it’s becoming harder and harder to keep your eyes open. It’d be a miracle if you even manage up the first step on the porch. Hesitantly, you place your hands on Steve’s shoulders and jump onto his back.

“Atta girl,” he laughs, standing back up so that he can carry you inside and join the boys. You wrap your arms around his neck and nuzzle your face as you close your eyes. You’re seconds away from falling asleep. Steve seems to sense this and slows down his footsteps so as to not disturb you. 

He navigates the home, remembering where to go from his time here last year. You’re warm against him and Steve’s fingers draw lazy circles onto your ankles. The boys are in the kitchen, scurrying around for any food, and Steve relishes in this small moment with you.

You’re placed down into a soft bed and the smell of Jonathan overwhelms you; you open your eyes and realize that Steve has taken you to the boy’s room. The bed is warm beneath you, the scent soothes your wounds. 

“Jonathan’s?” You ask, confused as to why Steve would take you here.

“Figured it’s where you sleep when you’re here.” He shrugs, as if it’s no big deal, before grabbing the blankets and tucking you in. His movements are careful and he makes sure your head is resting on a pillow and that he takes off your shoes. 

The gentleness of his touch soothes you. You’ve never let anyone take care of you like this before. You let him play with your hair, wrap the blanket around you so that you won’t get cold, and when he finally seems pleased with his work, he flicks your nose and smiles. “Get some sleep, dork.”

“Everyone is safe?”

His eyes melt. “They are. They’ll be home soon. In the meantime, I’ll rustle up some grub for those heathens outside while you sleep. Doctor’s orders.”

You giggle and grab his hand to bring to your lips. They linger against his knuckles, you inhale and breathe in his scent, and Steve’s breath hitches at the touch. “Thank you,” you whisper against his skin before placing another kiss. 

There’s such a lovely buzz within your chest, holding Steve’s hand fills you with this syrupy warmth like honey, and you’ve never felt it before. It drips down your skin and into your bones, healing wounds both old and new with its kisses. 

Steve squeezes your hand with his. He feels it, too. You both do. 

–

A body slides in next to yours, rousing you from your sleep. A hand wraps around your waist and the fingers, long and lithe and familiar, skim your skin lazily. The sensation almost lulls you back to sleep, you know whose touch this is, whose body lays next to yours. 

You open your arms and engulf Jonathan into a hug. His body lays atop of yours, reminiscent of the night a few days ago when he snuck into your room before he left with Nancy. Your body has long since come to anticipate his weight against yours, it’s become accustomed to how he lands upon you. 

“What time is it?” You rasp, stroking Jonathan’s hair with your fingers as he breathes steadily against you. You’re not sure how long you’ve been asleep, but the pain in your throat has lessened, your voice is slowly returning to normal.

“Early morning,” he mumbles, pressing a kiss against your shoulder. “Steve took Dustin home, no one wanted to wake you. Apparently you had a rough night.”

You laugh, then wince at the pain it draws from your throat and ribs. “You could say that.”

Jonathan places another kiss upon your skin, this time against the base of your throat. He litters kisses up and down your neck, his breath tickling as he does so. “I’m sorry,” he says in between each kiss, as if his words will make the bruises fade faster. 

Rather than respond, knowing nothing you can say will make him believe that none of this is Jonathan’s fault, you simply hum at his kisses and lean into them. “Will?”

“He’s okay, he’s safe. Mom is with him now.”

You hum again, relishing in the knowledge that Will is okay and that Jonathan is once again here with you. The house is quiet, everyone else asleep, and the two of you lay like this for a while. No more words are said, Jonathan presses kisses against your skin as your fingers interlock through his hair and you run your hand up and down his back. 

Somehow, you know this will be the last time you ever have him like this. 

Just the two of you, uncrossed in any boundaries. Skin against skin, kisses to wounds and fingers intertwined. You hope that your body never forgets the weight of his. You hope that it will always anticipate his impact, welcoming it after a long day. Jonathan’s touch will soon become ghosts lingering on your skin, and selfishly you never want this moment to end. 

Uncrossed boundaries, threads and strings and lines. 

They’re here. You can see them now, they almost glow faintly within Jonathan’s room, the same room in which you grew up in. 

“Bee?” You whisper, nudging him gently to get his attention. He lifts his head from your neck and looks at you, eyes open and listening. “We have to talk about it.”

The early morning light streams through the curtain and illuminates Jonathan’s face. His eyes are a mixture of browns and reds and ambers and you try to remember what they look like now, before the words are said and nothing will ever be the same again. 

“I’m scared,” he admits. You’ve made him into who he is today, with all of his quirks and humor and love. Jonathan doesn’t know who he would be without you, and he’s terrified that he’ll say the wrong thing and lose you forever.

“I know,” you stroke his cheek. “I am, too.”

“I don’t want to–I can’t lose you.”

“You’ll never lose me, Jonathan Byers.” You’re firm in your words, now grasping at his face with your hands. “We’re connected, remember? String theory, you and me.”

Jonathan has tears in his eyes. “But I slept with Nancy.”

His confession only makes you sigh. “I know, bee.”

“I–I think… I think this time it’ll turn into something more. I… I think I love her, bug.” His voice cracks, terrified of his own words. He recognizes now, far too late, all that he’s missed. “But bug… I know there’s–that there’s some things we should’ve talked about. A long time ago… but I just…”

“I know,” you know everything he’s trying to tell you. There’s no hurt in your voice, only resignation, but you knew this would happen eventually. “We missed our chance a while ago.”

“Did we ever really have a chance?” He asks, thinking back to the day the two of you met. How easily you accepted him into your life, the role you unknowingly assigned to him as your best friend. How, for years, he’d been so in love with you but terrified it’d scare you away. 

You play with his fingers, thinking for a moment. “I’d like to think that we did. I think we just… We missed each other, along the way.”

He smiles, bittersweet and somber. “We would’ve been something great, huh?”

“You’re my person,” you tell him, a certain sadness creeping into your voice. It’s the truth. No one will ever know you like he does, no one can unravel you the way he can. The love you have for Jonathan is unyielding, it transcends everything else you’ve ever felt. “Of course we would’ve been something great.”

“And now?”

You bite your lip, unsure. “Now we just… We let go.”

Jonathan tightens his arms and presses himself further against you. “I’m never letting you go, Y/N Henderson.”

You feel tears beginning to form in your eyes, both from grief and acceptance. “You don’t have to, but we have to let go of our claim to one another. You’re Nancy’s, now. It wouldn't be fair otherwise. To anyone.”

“And you’re Steve’s?” He asks, hesitant to bring the boy up. While you watched Jonathan fall in love with Nancy, he’s watched you fall for Steve. 

“I think I could really love him,” you admit, breathless. “I think I’ve already started to fall for him.”

Jonathan’s heart twists at the breathlessness in your voice, though he knows he’ll have to get used to this. To no longer being the reason for your bashfulness. It’ll take time, but he knows in the end that it’s for the better. “You deserve to go for it, bug.”

“Really?”

“Of course,” he playfully pokes your side. “Nancy fucked up with him, and I fucked up with you. The two of you deserve better than us, and I… I want you to be happy, you know that.”

“I know, but…” you turn to him now, needing him to understand all that you still don’t know how to voice yourself. “Remember our pinky promise from last year?”

Jonathan wiggles his pinky at you, unsure where you’re going with this. “I do.”

“We’ll always stay like this, right? You and me?” You know it’s selfish to ask, to expect everything to stay the same between you, but losing Jonathan would be the one thing you’d never recover from. He’s in your bones, now. He’s grown up alongside you, patched up your wounds as a child and now holds your hands through the nightmares you face together. 

It doesn’t matter how you and Jonathan end, whether you’re lovers in this universe or simply the best of friends. Regardless of what’s happened, he’s the most important person in your life. He always will be.

Jonathan presses a kiss upon your forehead, his lips warm. “Always, and I’ll always love you the most, bug.”

“I’ll always love you the most, bee.” The words come easily to you, an exhale after being inhaled so long ago. 

The world stills. Then, as slow as the sun rises after a harsh winter’s night, the strings and lines finally settle between you two.

“Let’s go to bed.” Jonathan whispers, wanting to hold onto you for at least a few more hours. 

In the late morning hours the two of you will wake up, and it will be the last time you do so in each other’s arms. 

– 

When Jonathan drops you off at home the next day, your mom freaks when she sees you. Dustin had tried to prepare her, making up some lie about how you’d fallen down at the Byers’ house and that’s why you couldn’t come home for a few days. However, your mom still had a heart attack when you walked through the front door with a split head, black eye, bruised neck, and a bloodied side. 

“My baby!” She took you into her arms and immediately set her eyes on Jonathan. “What, did you have a bear in the house or something?”

Jonathan looked over at Dustin with a helpless look on his face and your brother had sighed. He figured he’d have to be the one to take over. “Like I said, mom. Y/N just got really into our campaign and fell. She’s fine, I mean, look at her!”

You did your best to appear very fine and healthy, despite your concussion forming a horrendous headache. You forced a smile on your face, all teeth. “All fine and dandy, mom.”

Claudia Henderson hadn’t bought it.

You were placed under house arrest for two weeks. 

During these two weeks, you were only allowed to leave the house to either go to work (somehow Mrs. Waters still hasn’t fired you despite missing three days of work), and go to school. It wasn’t so bad, though. You had needed the rest, and Nancy visited you a few days into your house arrest.

You’re not sure when she officially began her relationship with Jonathan, but the first time she came to see you, she had brought a giant basket full of baked goods and comics she had asked Jonathan about. 

“You didn’t have to get me anything, Nance.” You had informed the girl when you saw her struggling to carry the basket. 

“I stole your boyfriend, it’s the least I could do.” You stared at her, eyes so wide that your black eye almost fully opened, and Nancy had let out a loud laugh. You’d never heard her laugh so openly before, and it was a beautiful sight. “It was a joke, Y/N. It’s okay to laugh.”

“Ha, ha, Wheeler.” You took the basket from her and inspected its contents. There were more comics than you could count and the muffins smelled delicious. “This is a good haul.”

Nancy had smiled, relieved that she’d done something right. She had bugged Jonathan all day yesterday, anxious to do something nice for you because she felt this crippling need to make you like her. He had reassured her a million times that you did already like her, but Nancy has never been the best at making friends, and she knows the history between you and her is tense. 

“You really like it?”

“I love it, dude.” You saw the way Nancy’s body relaxed, as if she had been terrified you’d burn the basket in front of her face. It’s only then that you realized why she was there. “You and Jonathan finally seal the deal?”

Nancy blushed, still unused to how well you perceive others. “We did.”

“Took you guys long enough!” You squealed and threw your arms around her, elated for your friends. Sure, it still stung a bit, but Nancy was trying, so you were too. “But can I say just one thing, and then we’ll bury the hatchet for good?”

“Of course, Y/N.” Nancy said, though you felt her body tense underneath your hold. She had been bracing for impact, and it broke your heart to imagine how she was feeling in that moment. 

You grabbed her hand and looked her in the eye. “I’m happy for you two, I really am, okay? You know my history with Jonathan, and I’m sure he’s told you everything, but I need you to listen very carefully to what I’m about to say.”

“I’m listening,” she whispered, gripping your hand tightly. 

“If anything, and I mean anything, bothers you about my relationship with him, I need you to tell me. Don’t let anything simmer, don’t swallow down any hurt. I need you to know that I will always respect your guys’ relationship, and if you ever feel that I don’t, please tell me.”

Nancy, to your surprise, had laughed. “That’s it? Geesh, Y/N. I was expecting you to threaten me with your knives or something. I understand your connection with Jonathan, I know what I agreed to.” She paused, and then added with a sly smirk, “Besides, I know you wouldn’t cross any boundaries because you’ve spent practically all year pining after Steve.”

“I did not!” You gaped at her, shocked that she would say such a thing, and Nancy laughed so hard that it took both you and her another ten minutes to say anything else. It was lovely, laughing alongside the girl you once held so much resentment over. Now there you were, rib cage aching with glee.

And that’s how Nancy Wheeler became your best friend.  

After that, things seemed to settle down during the month that followed the events of Hawkins Lab. 

While you healed your wounds at home, Jonathan and Nancy came to visit you whenever they could. It was weird, at first, being in the same room as them now that they were together, but within minutes the three of you formed your own dynamic. You and Nancy teased Jonathan while he simply shook his head at the two of you and did whatever you asked. 

It was a good dynamic, really. 

A week into house arrest, your mom let you finally return to work.

Of course, on your first day back, Steve was standing inside of Bookstrordinary, waiting for you. 

Seeing him there, hair messy and smile warm, felt like coming home. 

“Back so soon?” You had teased, walking slowly up to him. 

His smile widened and he grabbed your hand and tugged you closer, impatient with how long it was taking you to come to him. “Like I could wait any longer.”

“I stack and you sort?”

“Let’s get to work, Henderson.” He winked and spun you around, causing you to giggle, a sound he’d come to adore, and the two of you set off to work. 

Steve becomes a regular at Bookstrorindary again, and one day you come home from school to find him sitting at your kitchen table with Dustin and your mom. They were eating an after school snack together, chatting as if they were old friends. Your mom was even blushing as Steve charmed her. It was a disorienting sight, to say the least. 

“Is this going to be a thing now?” You’d asked, setting your backpack down to grab your own snack and join. 

“I invited him.” Dustin said with a mouth full of apples. “He’s cool, and mom likes him, so. Yeah.”

Your mom pinched Steve’s cheek and giggled. “He’s just so charming!”

Steve sent you a wink, basking in your mother’s praise, and in that moment, seeing him with the two people you loved most in this world, you knew.

It hit you like a warm, soft summer breeze. It swirled around you, kissed your skin the way only the sun can do, and you could almost smell the fresh summer honey that your dad used to buy for your birthday. The feeling was serene, it felt as easy as exhaling.

You were in love with Steve Harrington. 

Only this time, the realization made you smile; you accepted it with open arms. You walked over to him and ruffled his hair before sitting next to him at the table. Biting your own apple, you winked at your mom, agreeing with what she had said. “He is indeed very charming.”

Dustin gagged while Steve draped an arm across your chair and stole your apple. “That I am, Y/N.”

Maybe love wasn’t so bad after all.

The following week, both Steve and Nancy asked you to attend Barb’s funeral, and of course you went. 

It was a small service, and Jonathan held Nancy’s hand throughout all of it. While it hurt to see her cry, you can’t help but think about how incredible Nancy is. She’s the reason that Barb is even getting a funeral in the first place, having brilliantly exposed Hawkin’s Lab and giving her friend the justice she deserves. 

Steve stood next to you, stoic and guilty, and after the service ended you had to pull him aside and remind him that none of it had been his fault. He listened, but you know he hadn’t necessarily heard you.

It’s similar to how you feel with Will, and how Jonathan feels with you, and Nancy with Barb. 

You all hold a heavy weight within you, of guilt and shame and despair. There’s nothing that specifically can be done to lessen it. All you can do is allow the ones you love to carry the weight with you, to share it and accept the help that they offer. 

Time can’t heal all wounds, you recognize this now, so you do things for those you love and see the good that’s still there, even if it’s hard sometimes. 

And that’s what you do.

You start stopping by Hopper’s cabin to see El.

He hated it at first, but when you showed up one day with a box of nail polish and comics, El had been so overjoyed that he simply sighed and let you in. 

You teach the girl how to read, having her say words out loud as you paint her nails, and it’s lovely. It’s rare to get the girl all to yourself, so spending time with her is always the favorite part of your day. Plus, she starts to get really into Spider-Man, so you’ve done your job as an avid fan. 

As for Will and the boys, you start to make it a point to partake in their DnD campaigns whenever possible. While it’s hard balancing work, school, El, and the party, you don’t regret it for a single second. It’s exhausting, but a good kind of exhaustion. One that leaves your bones aching in a rewarding way at the end of the day.

You’ll never tell Jonathan this, but he had been right a few months ago. You’d been burning yourself out, running away from everything you didn’t want to confront, from your feelings to your crippling worry for the kids. You’re not sure how much you had left in you, looking back now.

You had been drowning for a long, long time. 

But as you pick up Dustin and Will from Mike’s, Jonathan by your side as always, your nails painted a messy shade of blue thanks to El, and Steve waiting for you back at your house, you’re finally able to breathe. 

– 

It somehow takes you the entire day to get Dustin ready for the Snowball. 

He’s running around the house, frantically trying to find his bowtie that he’s misplaced, and you’re currently digging through the endless supply of hairspray that Steve dropped off yesterday. There’s so much hair products within the bag that he delivered, and it actually scares you a little. 

No way this much chemicals can be good for a kid. 

“Did you find the bowtie?” You yell from the bathroom, finally managing to open the bottle of hairspray that Steve specifically told you to use first. 

“Yes!” Dustin runs back into the bathroom and throws the piece of fabric at you. “Quick, put it on while I spray my hair!” 

You roll your eyes at him but do as he asks, securing his bowtie to his baby blue button shirt. However, as he sprays his hair, he almost blinds you in the process. “Christ, Dustin! That’s practically a weapon.”

He continues to spray. “You’re the one who insisted on helping me get ready.”

“I wanted you to look handsome,” you coo at him, straightening his bowtie one final time before stepping back and admiring your handiwork. “All done, and look at you!”

Dustin sprays even more product into his hair and tries to shove you out of the bathroom, but he secretly preens. “Am I really handsome?”

You admire him and you can’t believe how grown up he is now. He’s grown another three inches since last month and with the way he’s styled his hair, he looks like a teenager. Your heart stings a bit, seeing him no longer look like the little brother you know and love. He’s changing, growing up. “The handsomest.”

He smiles at you. “Thanks, Y/N. Now go get dressed while I finish my hair. Steve will be here any minute!”

You salute him and run to your room. Nancy had asked you to chaperon alongside her at the dance, and you figured it’d be fun watching Dustin and the party failing miserably with prepubescent girls, so you agreed. However, because it somehow took five hours helping your brother get ready, you run around your room in a hurry.

You’ve just finished applying some mascara when the doorbell rings, and your heart skips a beat.

“Y/N, Steve is here!” Your mother calls, a slight glee in her voice. She’s quickly come to adore the boy, something that Steve milks whenever he can. He’s incredibly proud of it, honestly. 

You run to the door and open it, Dustin is still spraying his hair to death in the bathroom. 

When Steve sees you, he forgets how to speak. You’re dressed in a soft white dress and you’ve pinned the front two pieces of your hair back. You’ve dotted your lips with a berry-red lipstick and your cheeks look more flushed than usual. 

You see the blush that immediately forms on Steve’s cheeks and you giggle, suddenly shy. It’s awkward, but a nice awkward between you two. “Hey.”

“H–hi.” His voice squeaks and he clears his throat. “I–I mean, hey. You, uh… You look. Wow. I mean, not wow, but also wow–”

“Dude,” Dustin now joins and looks disappointedly at Steve. “Get it together, man.”

He pats his chest and starts heading towards the car, and you can’t help but snort. “He’s so lovely, isn’t he?”

Steve holds out his arm for you to take, the momentary awkwardness now gone. “The Henderson charm is a fascinating thing.”

During the car ride, the closer Steve gets to the school, the more you see Dustin fidget in the back seat. He had been so excited earlier, but now you notice the doubt in his eyes and the way he keeps patting his hair, unsure. 

You tap Steve’s hand to get his attention. When he looks over, you motion towards the backseat and he realizes what you’re trying to tell him. He nods, and the two of you silently agree to give the kid a pep talk once you get to the school. 

“Alright, buddy. Here we are.” Steve parks the car and tries to give Dustin a reassuring smile, but your brother looks out the window and exhales nervously. “Remember, once you get in there…”

“Pretend like I don’t care.”

You interrupt. “Okay, no. I thought we abandoned that idea last month.”

“Technically you abandoned it, I didn’t.” Dustin responds, and Steve shrugs his shoulders at you. 

“Dustin, I really want you to be yourself, okay?” You turn to face the kid. “What did I tell you last month, huh?”

“That we Hendersons are charming people.” He grumbles. 

“Exactly, and I meant that. Use your charm, buddy.”

Dustin isn’t listening, instead he tries to look at himself in the rearview mirror to once again fix his hair. Steve sees this and stops him. “Hey, listen to your sister, alright? You look great, okay?”

“Such a handsome lad.”

Steve puts his hand up to stop you. “Okay, ignore her and listen to me. Now, you’re gonna go in there…”

Dustin nods. “Yeah.”

“Look like a million bucks.”

“Yeah!”

“And you’re gonna slay ‘em dead.”

“Like a lion.”

You cringe. “I’m not at all liking this language use in relation to women.”

Dustin purrs, just to spite you, but now Steve cringes and shakes his head, “Yeah, don’t do that, okay?”

“Okay.” Dustin deflates, but when Steve offers him his hand to shake, his face lights back up and he accepts it. 

Steve winks at the kid. “Good luck.”

“You got this!” You shout as Dustin exits the car. He gives you a thumbs up and starts to walk towards the school, leaving just you and Steve alone in the car. 

With Dustin gone, a tension creeps within the car. You look over at Steve and he catches your eye, and your stomach flutters. You can’t deny that there’s nothing there, and it’s… it’s nice, honestly. 

You don’t feel the same fear you did with Jonathan. You can look at Steve and admire his beauty and all you feel is warmth. His smile doesn’t hurt you, and the way he’s looking at you so unabashedly no longer scares you. 

“You look beautiful, Y/N.” Steve says, his voice honest and dripping with honey. 

You blush, and he wants to kiss the pretty red until it colors his own lips as well. “Thank you.”

There’s more you both want to say, but for now you simply enjoy each other’s presence. It’s too soon, you know this. He’s still in love with Nancy, and you don’t blame him. Instead, you bask in his gaze and he admires how lovely you are. How lovely you always are.

He feels it, too. He knows what you’re thinking, and for once he feels comfortable with where he is. You’re here, next to him, expecting nothing but what you know he’s ready to give you. 

You press a kiss to his cheek, and Steve’s heart aches. “Drive home safe, okay?”

As you pull away, he catches your arm and stops you. You look up, confused, and Steve’s gaze softens. He doesn’t know how else to say it, how else to ask you to stay. “Be patient with me, okay?”

You don’t have to ask what he means; you know. 

Whatever he needs, you’ll give it to him. You place a hand on his face and stroke his cheek, he leans against the touch and closes his eyes. This is the easiest promise you’ve ever made. “Take all the time you need, I’ll be here.”

The words cause Steve to sigh, you’re too good for him. You’re everything lovely and beautiful and kind, and Steve can’t believe how lucky he is to know you, to have you in his life the way no one else does. That you’ll wait for him, trusting him with your heart, and he can’t believe that you’re real.

“You’re an angel.” He breathes out, feeling everything constrict within his chest when you smile. 

“And you’re sweet honey.” You press one last kiss to Steve’s face and get out of the car. No other words are needed. 

Steve watches you as you leave, your kiss still burning his face, the same burning warmth he’s come to love about you. He watches as you walk up to Nancy inside the school and she hands you a drink, the two of you laughing. You both look so different standing side by side. 

A girl Steve loves and the girl he knows that in time he’ll come to love more than anything else. 

He’s already falling for you, he thinks he has been ever since he first saw you all those years ago when you were twelve and he was thirteen. He’s falling for you, but he won’t rush it. It wouldn’t be fair to you, not after everything you’ve been through. 

So Steve admires you, he watches the way your hair dances as you laugh and the way the kids around you smile in admiration. He forgets that Nancy is even there, his eyes only on you, and for the first time in a long time, Steve smiles a real smile. 

Your kiss on his cheek lingers, and he presses his fingers to it and feels his body warm. You’ll be waiting for him, and that’s more than enough for now.

Take your time, I’ll be here.

And Steve believes you.

[END OF SEASON TWO]

-

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[eddiegettingshot]

Could i request another sneak peak of eddies big meat .. 🥺🙏… in this trying time …

aw hi best friend she lives in my scraps doc now to be ripped apart for future use because i stopped wanting to look at her ... so you can have the whole dream sex scene where spit is acceptable lube and eddie still has his mustache <3 :)

1.7k of nsfw under the cut lmao

He knows it’s Eddie marrow-deep, the way anyone knows anything in a dream.

Buck opens his eyes to light everywhere, so radiant the entire bedroom shimmers, a pale beam of it crossing Eddie’s long golden fingers where they’re clasped around Buck’s forearms to keep him in place. Eddie’s draped along his back, unapologetic about letting Buck, prone and practically immobilized, bear his full weight. Buck can’t see him, and he doesn’t say a word, just rubs his mouth into the spot beneath Buck’s ear and digs his thumbs into the insides of Buck’s wrists, but Buck is certain Eddie’s smiling. His mustache, which he’d long-since shaved in real life, is bristly, but nice. Really nice. Softer than Buck had thought it would be.

Then there’s the matter of Eddie’s cock, which he rocks slowly into the cleft of Buck’s ass. Buck can’t see that either, but it feels nice, too, stiff and hot and already soaked at the head. Buck tries to arch into him, give him something else, make it better; Eddie just laughs and keeps working him into the mattress, a lazy pantomime of a real fuck.

Dissatisfied, Buck struggles beneath him. Eddie bites him at the nape like an animal, hard enough to sting, and flattens his chest between Buck’s shoulder blades to settle him. He flexes his grip on Buck’s arms. Trapped like this, Buck can feel all of him: his ribs expand, and his belly presses into Buck’s spine as he sighs. 

The restlessness—whatever it is, that under-the-skin itch to stay in motion—drains away, defeated by Eddie’s wordless command. Buck sighs, too, turning his cheek into the pillow. 

The thing is, he knows it’s Eddie because it couldn’t be anyone else. 

“Good. That’s good,” Eddie says, low, dragging kisses across Buck’s jaw and cheek.

Buck’s not even doing anything. Eddie won’t let him, so he doesn’t try—even as mouthwatering want seizes his gut and pours blistering heat through his pelvis. He can’t stop shifting his erection against the sheets. The praise still doesn’t feel entirely unearned.

“It’d be better,” Buck says, “if you would actually put it in.”

“We ain’t got time for that,” Eddie says. Then (and he’s definitely smiling—the shape of it curls around his words): “Morning, Buck.”

It’s the familiar, beloved rasp of Eddie’s voice, that mundanity paired with getting almost-fucked, that makes Buck groan with impatience and spread his thighs. A blunted ache throbs behind Buck’s sternum. It’s dirty to let himself be overpowered this way, he thinks, except for that it feels closer to being held than pinned. With Eddie—his warm skin, his steady breath—it doesn’t matter. It’s all the same.

“Come on, Eddie,” he says. “Quit humping me.” 

“That’s usually my line.”

“Woof,” Buck huffs, and they both laugh—Eddie’s, shaky and breathless, his cock nudging right where Buck needs him; Buck’s, a little awed over this quotidian exchange alone. 

Buck noses to the side and opens his mouth against the back of Eddie’s hand, licking at the thin salty skin. He imagines there’s a vein there. He imagines he can feel the blood inside of it pulsing on his tongue—onto his tongue—and follows it to Eddie’s knuckles. Scraping his teeth over them, he tries again: “We could make time.”

“You might be off today, but I’m gonna be late for my shift,” Eddie says. He’s wrong. He’s never late. Buck hitches his ass up, insistently seeking contact.

Eddie groans, long-suffering, dropping his over-warm face into Buck’s shoulder.

“You won’t. And if you are, I—I’ll tell Cap it was my fault,” Buck coaxes. 

He doesn’t have to, since Eddie’s already letting go of him, spitting into his palm, drawing away just enough to reach down, wet his dick, and guide it firmly into place. But it’s nice to beg so freely, even nicer to chase down that singular moment where Eddie gives in. To keep pushing, just because he can—because Eddie allows it, every time.

“Please don’t,” Eddie snorts. He rubs up against Buck’s hole, purposeful rather than teasing now, and Buck shivers, clenching under the contact. “I’m pretty sure that breaks the station law against oversharing, and I don’t have enough cash left for the Buck’s Big Mouth jar.”

Buck’s shameless snickering dissolves into a wavering moan as Eddie eases forward, opening him on just the tip first. Even that feels like a lot, feels fucking good, the first couple inches igniting nerves that make the backs of his thighs tingle.

“Fuck,” he says. Whimpers, really, kind of airy and tremulous.

“Yeah?”

“Yeah.”

“This what you wanted?” Eddie’s pressed all the way into him, flush with Buck’s ass. He grabs Buck around the hip to maneuver the angle, tilting him perfectly into place as if by instinct. The first firm thrust wrenches all the air from Buck’s lungs.

“Eddie,” is all he manages, naturally.

The slide is effortless, too easy with spit alone, but Eddie’s cock fills him up so well that all Buck can think is that if this is real, if this is happening, then maybe it was just meant to be right here, taking up all this space inside him, and that Eddie was meant to be here, too, the whole of his body an anchor. His hips begin to snap, hard and focused enough to get Buck panting. 

“W—Wait,” Buck gasps. “Go slow.”

Eddie obliges, of course. He kisses the nape of Buck’s neck, the sore spot he’d used to bully Buck into submission before. It tickles. 

“Slower,” he begs—for the first time in his life, probably. It’s a sudden, inconvenient desire, considering they really don’t have much time. 

Incredulous but uneven, Eddie asks, “Seriously?” 

Buck grins. “Yeah,” he says.

Eddie’s got a grounding hand clamped tight and high on Buck’s waist, fingertips hooking beneath his ribs. Buck reaches around, takes him by the wrist, and guides that hand up to his throat, choking off his own desperate moaning mostly because he knows Eddie finds it unbearably hot. 

“Buck,” Eddie maybe mumbles, although it’s hard to decipher through the hazy head rush. He gives Buck a loving squeeze, but that’s not enough; after squeezing his wrist in return, Buck tugs him up until he can wrap his lips around Eddie’s forefingers and suck. 

He’d asked for slow, so Eddie’s barely even fucking him anymore. His hips remain crushed to Buck’s ass; he’s rocking forward in small, tight motions like there’s any way to get deeper. There isn’t, there can’t be. Stretched raw, speared apart, Buck already feels disassembled. 

Eddie shifts, and it’s—“There, right there,” Buck groans, garbled with his mouth full, but Eddie understands. 

He must take it as, like, permission, or something—God, that’s a nice idea—because he presses down on the ridge of Buck’s bottom teeth and pushes his nose against Buck’s ear and gives it to him. No more of that indolent grinding; he slams in, smooth and ceaseless, unforgiving on Buck’s prostate.

“I love you,” Eddie says, hoarse with sudden emotion. “You know that?” 

Fuck, yes—with Eddie’s broad, calloused palm holding his jaw fast, and Eddie’s fingers down his throat, and Eddie’s sweaty cheek brushing his, and Eddie’s big cock ripping him wide, he does. He feels it everywhere. He cries out, muffled, guttural, and deliriously pleased as the heat builds. 

“Answer me,” Eddie murmurs. He slips his fingers out of Buck’s mouth. A strand of drool keeps them connected to Buck’s lower lip. One particularly rude thrust punches a strangled noise out of him. 

“Fuck, Eddie, I—I know.”

“What do you know?”

“You love me,” Buck says. “I know you love me.”

“That’s right,” Eddie says, pressing a sloppy, proprietary kiss under Buck’s ear. “I love you, Buck.”

“I want—”

“You ready to come?”

“Yeah,” Buck moans, and then, “No, I—” 

Somehow, with Eddie surrounding him, it hadn’t occurred to Buck how badly he needed to breathe his air and touch him, too—to kiss his mouth, taste the sweat on his mustache. To thumb at his furrowed brow. To watch him come and bask in the blazing heat of his satisfaction. 

Eddie would like it—filling Buck up, flooding him inside. He does like it. Doesn’t he? Likes laying his claim, more than anything. 

That’s what it really is, after all, when he gives Buck his cock, and his come, and his bite, and his hand around Buck’s throat, and every spare, hard-won minute he’s got. I love you really means that Buck’s his to keep, and Eddie even says that in his sleep sometimes, mumbled into Buck’s hair and occasionally broken by his embarrassing snoring. 

He must like that Buck belongs to him. He has to. More than anything, Buck needs to look Eddie in the eye when he says everything he wants to say, so he can be absolutely certain of this. He was certain, a moment ago, but Eddie’s grasp on him is weakening, or maybe Buck’s slipping out of his hold. 

Buck tries to tell him, “I want to see you.”

Ideally, Eddie will grin when Buck turns in the cage of his arms and begs: Don’t go anywhere. I love you, too. Let’s just do this forever. I can take it. He’ll make that sound he makes, that quietly amused “Hm,” that has a million meanings, all of which Buck has memorized. He’ll dutifully argue that they’d probably miss their real life eventually—plus they’ve got a mortgage to pay and Buck would get bored without the thrill of saving lives. Eddie’s good at choosing the right moment to be a little bit terrible, so he’ll grab Buck by the thighs to stifle any retort, haul him into position to pound him just right, and say something irresistibly dirty, like, Give it to me, sweetheart, show me how you come. 

And Buck would. He’s already close; it’s knifing through his belly, the only palpable feeling left—

Forget an orgasm; he doesn’t even get to roll over before the whole scene washes away, taking Eddie with it.

Panting, Buck blinks the afterimage of Eddie’s hands out of his head, but he can’t banish the thought that he wouldn’t let Eddie try to convince him of anything. He’d pull him down, kiss him hard, lick his canine teeth, and plead again, and again, and again, until Eddie agreed to use his body as a dwelling; to live inside him, and nowhere else.

[lostsyren]

I have a request based of the scene where Rafe talks shit about her ''i have standards''. Maybe in this scenario, Rafe spots her walking away crying and he runs after her, ahh angst <3

˖⋆࿐໋ standards ⋆｡ﾟ☁︎｡⋆｡ ﾟ☾ ﾟ｡⋆

{summary: an alternate turn of events in season 4 episode 3}

{a/n: hope you like it, thank you for the request!}

{part 2 here} {part 3 here}

⋆｡ﾟ☁︎｡⋆｡ ﾟ☾ ﾟ｡⋆ ⋆｡ﾟ☁︎｡⋆｡ ﾟ☾ ﾟ｡⋆ ⋆｡ﾟ☁︎｡⋆｡ ﾟ☾ ﾟ｡⋆ ⋆｡ﾟ☁︎｡⋆｡ ﾟ☾

“Wait has she moved in yet?” Ruthie smirked, eyeing Rafe over the lip of her glass as she took a sip.

Sofia thought about her things scattered across Rafe’s house: her clothes in the drawers, the flowers she’d buy sitting in the vases, her toothbrush next to his in the bathroom. She hadn’t moved in but she may as well have.

“I’m not living with a pogue.” Sofia blinked in confusion at his callous words. She couldn’t see Rafe’s face, but she saw Ruthie and Topper’s faces perfectly. They were gleeful. That’s what she was to them– a joke. The poor, pogue bartender Rafe dragged around everywhere. And of course she followed blindly. Like a good dog. Sofia’s stomach frothed and roiled with nausea, her heart splintering in her rib cage. Heartbreak was one thing, mortification was another…her face burned with both.

“I hope not.” Ruthie chimed.

“I have standards.” Rafe muttered. Sofia’s eyes roamed Rafe’s back, the sinewy muscle imprinting on the material. The skin she’d kissed, the skin she’d grip. And now he was turning away from her. Shunning her. Twisting a knife in her heart. The rest of their words faded away like mist in the wind, leaving only the weight of emotion on Sofia’s shoulders. She wrapped her arms tightly around herself, in some self-soothing hug, as she sped back to her car, her breathing shallow and painful.

Standards. Of course Rafe Cameron had standards. And of course a girl like her didn’t meet them.

“Sofia!” She heard a voice call out behind her, barely perceptible over the sound of blood rushing through her head.

“Sofia!” This time she noticed, turning around to see no other than Rafe approach her, a smile on his lips, as if those same lips didn’t just spew all that shit about her moments earlier.

“Hey I thought you were with your family today?” He asked, nearing her outside the country club gates.

Sofia spun back around with a scoff, heading to her car, not wanting to see his face for an another second, scared she’d burst into tears in front of him.

He bridged the gap between them almost instantly, his long legs striding towards her just as she reached her car door. By this point the tears in her eyes had spilled onto her cheeks, her vision blurring into a watery film.

Rafe’s hand rested on her shoulder, as he turned her body gently to face his.

“Hey– hey hey– Sofia, what’s wrong?” He said on seeing her crying, his voice soft like gossamer. It perturbed her how quickly he could flit from cold to caring, her anger veining into confusion at the paradox of a man in front of her.

“Get off of me,” she pushed him off her, trying to sound intimidating but instead the words came out in a blubbering mess.

“Hey? What happened huh?” Rafe’s face screwed in confusion. His words came off as desperate. Pleading. Sincere… his hands hovering over her skin, still in the same place she pushed them off from. He could be so damn sweet sometimes. Maybe this was why his words pierced hard– because she never expected it from him.

“You Rafe. You happened.” She hissed, spinning around to get in her car.

But Rafe moved quicker, his big arms slamming the door shut, caging her small frame between them.

“What are you saying?–“ he began.

“I heard what you said. With Topper and Ruthie.”

She watched as his pupils widened, his jaw tightening.

“What– when…?”

Sofia rolled her eyes. “Just cause we hook up doesn’t mean I’m your girlfriend right?” She mocked, throwing his words back at him.

“Sofia–“ his face sunk, blue eyes getting even bluer.

“18 months Rafe. Nearly two years and that’s what I am to you? A hook up?”

“No,” he said, the word practically jumping out his mouth, “no of course not. Look you weren’t meant to hear that–“

“So that makes it ok then? For you to degrade me like that in front of your friends?”

“No, look I just was– I didn’t mean–“ he was stuttering, his hands reaching out to her, but never connecting the space.

“I was there for you Rafe. Did you just forget that?” She thought about holding him, teary eyed on his yacht, consoling him for the death of his father. She thought about the nights where he’d pepper her with kisses, his touch bordering on worship. She thought about his laugh, his smile, his sweet nothings. All that gone, as if it was always ephemeral.

“No. I know you were there, and I appreciate it, more than you think– ok?”

“But I’m just a pogue right?” She derided, a sarcastic, pained leer twisted on her lips.

Rafe’s face contorted in an emotion she couldn’t place, his azure irises brewing with something darker. He looked…devastated.

But she continued her barrage, words sharp, tongue fast. “And you have standards of course.”

Lips twitched, eyebrows knitted in a hurt expression, Rafe’s face bled into a heady emotion, a strange mix of regret and anger.

“Sofia…” be began warily, voice like husk. Rafe instinctively lowered his hands, trying to find purchase on the skin of her shoulders but she slipped out of his grip like smoke from fire.

“I’m sorry I couldn’t meet them for you Rafe.”

And with that she got into the drivers seat, slamming the car door shut, trying hard not to spare another glance at him.

Careeing out the parking lot with the screech of her tyres behind her, Sofia couldn’t help but chance a look in the rear view mirror. Rafe stood in the distance watching as she drove away, his hands balled into fists at his sides.

Sofia’s heart spasmed with a resounding pain, her throat itching with unshed sobs. She quickly glued her eyes on the road, her fingers gripping the steering wheel as she drove further away from the country club back to her home on The Cut…driving further away from the kook she’d fallen in love with. The kook who’d just shattered everything they had built together.

⋆｡ﾟ☁︎｡⋆｡ ﾟ☾ ﾟ｡⋆ ⋆｡ﾟ☁︎｡⋆｡ ﾟ☾ ﾟ｡⋆ ⋆｡ﾟ☁︎｡⋆｡ ﾟ☾ ﾟ｡⋆ ⋆｡ﾟ☁︎｡⋆｡ ﾟ☾

[corroded-hellfire]

Reading AYW things has me thinking about Eddie and Reader sniffing baby Eliza right after they bring her home and she’s got that fresh baby smell and Luke and Ryan are like “what are they doing?”

-cj. @cheesewritings

Just out here fueling my own baby fever. Please enjoy some lil baby Eliza 💕

Words: 1.2k

[As You Wish masterlist]

Less than a month has gone by since you’ve given birth to your and Eddie’s baby girl and yet so much has changed. Your hormones still give you mood swings from time to time. Eddie feels a bit more tired than usual between being up at odd hours of the night and trying to make sure you and Eliza are being taken care of while still keeping Ryan and Luke’s normal weekly routine going. The boys dote over their baby sister, but their sleep has definitely been impacted as well by the high-pitched wailing that comes just down the hall every night. One morning at breakfast before school, Luke fell asleep with half of his face in his bowl of Corn Flakes. 

But every small discomfort is well worth it to have the most beautiful baby girl you’ve ever seen. Her eyes already threaten to be as wide and doe-like as her father’s and you know you’ll be in deep trouble then. The soft wispy baby hairs on her head are similar in color to Eddie’s and her eyebrows have the same arch as his. Eliza absolutely has your nose and lips though. Your husband swears it’s as if God copy and pasted the features right from you to your daughter. Whenever she smiles though, you see her brothers. It may still be gas for her at this age, but the smile that upturns her pretty pink mouth is the spitting image of what you see on the faces of your sons. Munson charm in full effect. 

Evenings have been the most unpredictable so far. Will Eliza be awake? Asleep? Hungry? Fussy? Happy? Content? Not to mention what Eddie or the boys will be like.

Tonight is a good night, though. The boys are down the hall playing video games in Ryan’s room, and you and Eddie are cuddled up on the couch, Eliza snuggly cradled between your arms. Spider-Man is playing on the television, but you’d both forgotten about the movie the second that your daughter woke up, about fifteen minutes into the superhero flick. 

“Oh, look what a big mouth you have!” you coo as your daughter releases a tiny yawn, as if she hasn’t spent most of her day sleeping. You envy the hours of rest infants need. 

Eddie gazes down at her adoringly and the love shining in his eyes threatens to have your heart burst right through your ribs. It’s no secret that he’s always wanted a daughter and it’s still dizzying to think that you’re the one to give that to him. 

Soft, gurgling baby noises come from the baby’s mouth as she looks back and forth from you to her father. Both you and Eddie chuckle when she lifts her small arms above her head, then on the way down stops to stick her tiny fingers in her mouth. 

“God, she’s perfect,” Eddie muses, and you’re not sure if you were meant to hear it or he was just thinking aloud. Either way, he’s right. Every little thing about her has captured your heart. 

Slowly, Eddie leans forward and presses his lips to her soft forehead. 

“And she smells so good,” Eddie adds, making you giggle. 

“I know!” you agree. “What is it about that new baby smell?”

Gently, you lift Eliza so her head is more level with yours and Eddie’s. As one, you both lean in and inhale the scent wafting off your daughter. The baby doesn’t seem to mind, but it looks like she’s trying to figure out what you’re doing by the way she keeps looking at you. And she’s not the only one.

“What are they doing?” Luke mutters to his older brother from where they stand off to the side of the hallway connecting the living room to the rest of the house. 

“Smelling her,” Ryan answers with a shrug.

“Uh, why?” Luke furrows his brows as he watches the scene on the couch in confusion.

“Seeing if she needs a diaper change? I don’t know,” Ryan says.

“But they’re smiling. No one would ever smile around one of Eliza’s dirty diapers,” Luke says, having plenty of experience to back up that claim. 

“Maybe they washed her hair,” Ryan offers with another shrug. “I don’t know, I guess she just smells good.”

Luke’s quiet for a moment before he tilts his head up to look at his brother.

“Do they ever smell you?”

“No,” Ryan says with a sigh, this conversation already exhausting him. 

“Do they smell me when I’m not looking?” Luke asks, more rhetorical this time. 

“Yes, we all do,” Ryan goads. “We’ve been meaning to talk to you about taking more baths.”

The younger Munson boy glowers at his brother and stomps past him into the living room.

“Um, does she smell?” Luke asks as he approaches the couch.

“Yeah,” Eddie says, looking up at his son with a grin. “She’s got that new baby smell. C’mere.”

He gestures for Luke to lean in and smell the top of Eliza’s head. The boy does and when he pulls back, he’s smiling.

“She kind of smells like cheese.”

The words make you giggle, and you lay your head on your husband’s shoulder as Eddie cradles Eliza against his chest. 

“Ryan! She smells like cheese!”

“What?” Ryan asks as he walks over. 

“Yeah, but like actual cheese. Not a Cheeto or the stuff in a can.”

Ryan frowns. “Didn’t you just eat a whole bottle of Cheez Wiz yesterday?”

“You did what?” Eddie asks, raising an eyebrow at his youngest son.

“I said it wasn’t real cheese,” Luke says to Ryan, ignoring his father completely. “Not that it wasn’t delicious. Now smell,” Luke urges him.

Ryan gives his little brother a skeptical look, but when you give him a reassuring nod, he leans in and sniffs her hair.

“It’s like…baby powder. But…I don’t know, fresher?” Ryan isn’t sure how to describe it, but he certainly doesn’t think cheese is the word he’d use. 

“Do all babies have it?” Luke asks as he takes a seat next to you.

“Most do,” Eddie tells him. “You both did.”

“When did I lose it? Or do I still have it?” Luke tries to yank one of his curls straight so he can get a good whiff of it, but to no avail. 

“It goes away after a few weeks or months,” Eddie says.

“What causes it?” Ryan asks.

Your husband smiles and you can tell he loves the boys asking him these questions. He’d sit here and talk to them about Eliza—or anything, really—all day. 

“I don’t know, pal,” Eddie says. 

“It’s like new car smell!” Luke adds. 

“But better,” you say, poking his tummy in his most ticklish spot. He giggles and squirms around at your side. Once he’s calmed, Luke slumps against your arm and watches Eliza fuss a little in Eddie’s arms.

“Even when she loses that baby smell,” Luke says, poking you in the thigh with a small bony forefinger, “I hope she grows up to smell like you and not Daddy.”

Eddie’s jaw drops open as he turns his head towards Luke. You want to make some sort of witty remark, but you can’t think of any. Plus, you’re laughing way too hard to speak. 

[warframe1999]

Sooo…

The protoframes, huh?

i wanted to go a bit into what each member of the Hex (yay, new syndicate!!) had to say when you got into proximity of them in the relay. there’s honestly a lot here to set the scene not only for 1999 itself, but introducing each protoframe as well as sort of hinting at their interpersonal relationships, and how they interact with one another! some of my favorite kinda of lore is specifically character development and personality-focused dynamics like this so here!!!! i walked back and forth for an hour for YOU! here is all proximity dialogue for each character in the Höllvania Mall relay:

ARTHUR:

“Question. Could I take Quincy down if he turned on me?”

“We’ll find you, Doctor. That’s a promise.”

“Stop sniffing around my head, Eleanor. If I want to talk, I’ll talk.”

“We need to keep Lettie on her feet. If she goes we all go.”

“Dunno why we even bothered with that cleaning rota.”

“Yeah, we can hold this place.”

“One day, Aoi. No more roadblocks and checkpoints. Just you and me and the bikes, open road for miles, all this bullshit far away. I swear to Sol.”

“Still too open. We need more chokepoints.”

“Bottled water. Like sodding gold dust.”

“Well Amir’s still alive. That’s a win.”

LETICIA:

“I got nothin’ to prove to you, Quincy! Go play your little games, niño.”

“¿Qué onda? The Lady Eleanor ain’t no more freaky than the last time you checked in. ‘Less you know different?”

“Yo, Aoi. Chill, hermana. Do something for yourself, for once. Arthur ain’t going to blow away if you blink.”

“The boss says care for his sister I care for his sister. As long as you still are his sister… and as long as I feel like listening to him.”

“Being loved and being hurt? Yeah, I make no distinction. I knew someone, once, wired the same way. Kept me sane. And what of it? Te crees muy acá ¿no? Get outta my head, Eleanor.”

“Never signed up for this. I’ll be home Mamá. Your little girl doesn’t end here. No te preocupes.”

“Man, I’ve been awake so long that even the spiders in my head have all gone to sleep.”

“Wacha: unless you’re pissing blood right this second, whatever it is can wait.”

“I swear, should lock Aoi and Amir in a cuna. Didn’t sign up for no babysitting gig.”

AOI:

“I don’t wanna go on patrol. I wanna take stuff apart.”

“Nearly time for the On-lyne boys.”

“Metal, metal, metal, what do you want to be?”

“Yep. I can live like this.”

“Arthur needs to keep some fuel in the tank for himself. Goddamn savior complex that man has…”

“I oughta get some headphones. Then I wouldn’t have to hear Quincy work off all that surplus testosterone!”

“If they take Entrati out, who’s going to look after that mutant jaguar of his? Poor thing won’t last five minutes in the wild.”

“Amir! Remember to hydrate!”

“Dear past self: we finally got those super powers we always wanted. Whaddayaknow.”

“GodDAMN. Lettie would you keep your frickin’ rats OUT of my SPACE?”

QUINCY:

“Don’t look up, Doctor.”

“Arthur needs to leave the Major to me, innit. Respect my methods.”

“Don’t mind the waiting. Plenty to be thinking about.”

“You don’t know me. Never see what darkens your rooftops. Inevitable, like the rain. Handing out consolations in a transient connection. Boom. Smoke. And ghost.”

“You wiv me, Eleanor? How deep in you go? See anythin’ you fancy, girl?”

“Amir is a weak, weak boy. Like Aunty said, ‘duppy know who fi frighten.’”

“Thassit… nice and steady.”

“How many man have the opps got? Not enough t’be takin’ me. Never.”

“Oi, Lettie! Grab y’ strap and let’s go. Best a five buys the drinks?”

ELEANOR:

“Don’t expect me to tell you what I’ve seen in Amir’s head. He’s not a beautiful, broken marionette, and he’s nobody’s project. He’s one of us.”

“Quincy thinks he’s going to wake up one night to me chewing the flesh from his ribs. Maybe he’s right.”

“I know you’re there. I can feel you. It’s okay, I won’t tell the others.”

“Aoi? She’s lovely and kind and strong, and… I kind of hate her a little bit. Because it should have been her spreading her happiness into everyone’s heads, and me throwing cars and trucks around.”

“I thought there were going to be two of you! Where’s the other one?”

“Blood. There’s gonna be a fight. Something… bursting. Crossed swords. Arthur!”

“What on earth is a ‘Mara Lohk’?”

“Oh, you’re going to make such a difference this time around.”

“I don’t think Doctor Entrati expected me to survive. I had a lot more than just a cough. But… survive I did. And Lettie has not forgiven me for it.

“Oh. OH. She’s wonderful! Triple-faced goddess! But there’s a shadow on her, isn’t there?”

AMIR:

“A little zap, and… infinite credit! No more ‘insert coin’! Not that we could insert coin. We have no coin. Once we had coin, but now Aoi has smooshed all the coin. Coinnnn.”

“Why did they never make a console port?”

“BAD MOVE, SPACE CAA-DET.”

“But the one thought none of them spoke out loud was - could Lettie reattach a head?”

“Hey, Arthur! Arthur! Arthur! Arthur! Arthur! Dahh, you missed it.”

“Eleanor? Are you there? Can you - can you give my brain a hug please? Thank you.”

“We’re getting a little too excited, let’s step it down, step it down before we get the blue cracklies. In one two out one two.”

“Oi’m Quincy. Oi’m gonna blow out yer kneecaps. Mashup in yer chip shop alright.”

“Ungh! This violent video game is influencing my emotions! Societal norms… eroding! Morality… subsumed! I MUST KILL!”

“This place used to smell so good. Coffee. Cookies. Fresh clean socks. Now it’s just rust, pain, and old socks.”

[thoughtsfromlayla]

26 Ways of Taking You: D for Doggy

Summary: How does an Endless teach you a lesson? Maybe on your hands and knees.

Notes: ~2.9k words, your girl needs to get laid 눈_눈

Warnings: MDNI - 18+, unprotective sex (do you think Endless can get STDs?), fem!reader, dom!dream, p in v, no foreplay goin' in dry babyyyy, jealous dream, unintentional cheating, slight angst but it gets fucked out, enjoy

⠄･ ⋆ ･ ⠄⠂⋆ ･ ⠄⠂⋆ ･ ⠄⠄･ ⋆ ･ ⠄⠂⋆ ･ ⠄⠂⋆ ･ ⠄⠄･ ⋆ ･ ⠄⠂⋆ ･ ⠄⠂⋆ ･ ⠄

Masterlist | Series Masterlist

C for Cockwarming ⇆ E for Edging

The world warps around you once again as your body stretches to a singular dimension. You are the beginning and end of everything. You will be there even when Death leaves and then you will take what she has left and open the next universe. Rebirth and repurpose. 

The Traveller. The One Who Knows. The Singularity. 

You have a name, you think, but it’s so old you don’t even remember how it feels on your tongue. 

It’s lonely being you, your sole job is making sure that everything works out in the end for every being, dead, alive, or yet to exist. And in your lonely existence, you often wander to different universes and realms. Your favorite was the Dreaming, a large realm that spread several different universes ruled by the Lord of Dreams, Morpheus. 

The familiar essence of the Dreaming greets you when you’re done warping into the realm. You feel each cell of your body rebuilding itself, from quirks to cells, from cells to living organisms, you are reborn. With a blow from your lips, your hair made of star systems and nebulas float back into place. 

The familiar corset you wore before you warped cinches around your waist and a breath leaves you, the ivory bones poking into your ribs. It was the necessary fashion for the realm you went to where a sneakily placed seed was enough to end a war that would come in five decade’s time. The rest of the time was spent entertaining the fae prince in his court. A good way to pass the time, but it eventually got boring, hence here you were.

The smell of tea and leather bound books indicates that you managed to weasel yourself into Lucienne’s library. You run your fingers across the spine of old and new books alike, occasionally itching your back when the markings annoy you. The corset dilutes the relief and you’re left with a slight vex for being denied scratching an itch. Lucienne is fast to find you, or you her, it’s all the same to you. You greet each other at a long table. Scrolls, books, and maps laid out before you. 

“Lady Singularity,” She greets with a familiar smile. “It’s good to see you again. It’s been a few decades now, has it?” 

“It has.” You agree as you turn your attention to the worn book in her hands, noticing the familiar face of the fae prince you met. “I was just with him.” You comment off handedly. 

“Of course, the Dreaming catalogs everything. You have been busy.” Lucienne comments as she continues to flip through the pages of your recent adventure. 

You look over her shoulder and read along with her, chuckling to yourself at the fun you had. When a familiar scene starts to unfold on the page, blush creeps up your cheeks and down your neck, a few of the stars in your hair exploding from your outrage. 

“Don’t read that!” You exclaim as you yank the book from her hands. You close it shut and the sound echoes in the library. 

“Oh, please, I’ve read everything. There’s nothing to be embarrassed about.” Lucienne takes the book from you and no matter how hard you grip, the librarian has some weird power over the book and takes it easily. 

“Okay, well don’t read it when I’m in the room. I don’t need a friend to know what I did with… him.” Your words taper as you give yourself away the more you speak. “I’m leaving.” You say quickly as you run away from the situation. 

The sun is setting when you make your way up the winding and seemingly never-ending stairs of the castle. The halls were cast in warm pinks and oranges when you reached the room the Dream Lord had given you the first time you visited several millennia ago. The room is the same as you left it, the open window giving to a soft breeze as dusk turns to night. 

You walk to the mirror, noticing slight changes to your physical form when you jump through that wormhole. You’ll stay the night and then go back to your own realm, the dimension between past and future, but for now, the present is much needed. 

You pull at the string of your outer dress and start to breathe easier, the heavy fabric dropping and pooling around your feet. Your shoes come off soon after and then your stockings. Your fingers grasp at the strings that tie your corset together but each time comes just an inch short. You’re becoming breathless from the struggle when your room door opens. 

“Singularity.” A voice calls out to you. His shadow blocks the entire door before he slinks into the room. His robe flowed behind him like a wave of black ink. 

“Hello, Morpheus.” You greet back, looking at him through the ornate mirror. 

You go back to trying to loosen your corset, the markings on your back growing more and more itchy the longer you struggle. You give up with a huff, and your shoulders sag in defeat. 

“Allow me,” Dream offers and his cold fingers run across your upper back, moving the nebulas over your shoulder, then trailer down your shoulder. 

Goosebumps follow the fingers and down your arms before his slender fingers go to untangle the corset strings. You feel his exhale on the back of your neck and you close your eyes, afraid of what you may look like to him through the mirror, or worse yet losing yourself if you were to see him. You do end up peaking and watching intensely at how his expert fingers unfasten the strings of the constricting clothing. 

“I have missed you.” Dream confesses.

His lips press against the base of your neck when the corset finally comes off. Despite it slowly coming off, you find it hard to breathe still. His proximity was going to kill you if the end of time didn’t. He looks at you through the mirror, keeping eye contact with you as his fingers land on your waist. 

“Will you stay the night?” He murmurs against your neck, kissing the soft skin beneath it again. His hands go over your shoulder again, pulling at the chemise and letting the thin fabric fall off by itself. The final piece of clothing joining the others at your feet. 

You turn around, his hands guiding you, and place your arms around his neck, resting them there on his shoulders. 

“Maybe a few nights, if you shall permit it?” You grin up at him with a slight tilt of your head. 

He chuckles and leans in for a kiss and you meet him halfway, standing on your toes to reach his height. Oh, how he has missed the taste of you, the softness of your lips pressed against his. You have been gone too long, he thinks with a groan. 

You jump and find it to no surprise when he catches you easily, your legs wrapping around his waist comfortably as he moves the two of you towards the bed. Morpheus is all hands, running them over the roundness of your ass, up the curves of your hips, back down to caress the plumpness of your thighs. 

His lips continue, running his tongue across your bottom lip and leaning into you when you answer with a whine. The taste of you drives him crazy, his mind is in swirls as he tastes faerie pomegranate and figs. 

“Did you visit the Faerie Prince of Khoné?” He pulls away from your lips despite the difficulty of being away from you. Instead he finds solace in the shape of your collarbone, pressing open mouth kisses onto the thin skin. “I can taste it. I can taste him.” His voice rumbles with danger, the voice of a jealous lover. 

Oblivious, you settle your arms around his neck, playing with the small loose hairs at the base of his head. “I did, why?”

“And you visited him?” He asked again, emphasizing the word to ask you indirectly of what he really wanted to know. 

You look at him, eyes dark and swirling with emotion, his hands on your hips holding you harder as the seconds tick by. 

“Yes?” You answer unsure. “I visited him.”

A frown etches onto his face as he stays silent. 

You scoff at his reaction. “Of course I have multiple lovers, as I expect you to as well?”

Your fingers wander upwards into his unruly hair, twisting a few strands between your fingers. Still, he stays silent. The only indication was the brief flick of his eyes leaving yours. 

“Oh,” You say when you understand. “Oh.” You say one more time when the weight of the conversation dawns on you again. 

You’ve never felt more exposed than you have now, an emotional wedge driven between you and Morpheus. You get up from his lap and it hurts when he lets you, you feel the way your stomach drops at how easily he lets you go. Your arms cross over your chest and you step further away from the bed, and from him. The two parts of the equation are something you no longer saw yourself allowed to be a part of. 

“Forgive me, I presumed you had other lovers,” You meekly say.

Morpheus saw you now, no longer the confident entity that you usually were. You didn’t even meet his gaze. The stars in your hair turned blue and dull, a few dying at the fraying ends. 

“You presumed I had other lovers?” He echos, his voice tipped with anger. He stands now, looming over you, peering at you down his nose. His question was obvious, accusatory, and somewhat downright demeaning. 

“Forgive me, I’ll just…” You turn to leave, running away just as you’ve always done when things get too hard. You feel the way your body begins to warp, unraveling strand by strand. 

The warping stops when cool hands wrap themselves around your waist once again. One moment you are between realms and the next you are pulled back on the plush bed. You stare, dazed, at the equally ornate headboard and try to backtrack what just happened. Morpheus comes behind you, watching with lust filled eyes of you on your hands and knees, at the way your hair falls over your shoulders. You turn your head and look at him over your shoulders, unsure what was happening. Morpheus’s face gives away nothing, even his clothes disappeared, an act that you didn’t see him do.

“What’s–” Your words are cut off as he leans and his hand comes entangled in your hair, firmly grasping it. A gasp leaves your lips and you notice the way your body couldn’t stop the way your back arched at the pleasurable pain. 

“Bow your head,” He growls as he shoves your head into the pillow. Your arms give out beneath you at the slight force. Heat travels easily down to your core and you feel the wetness slide down your inner thigh. 

“It’s Lord Morpheus for tonight, darling. You will do well to remember that.” His voice gravels as he runs a finger down your spine. He traces the markings lightly, causing a ticklish sensation across your back and a whine follows. Your ass pushes back on him impatiently at which he clicks his tongue at. 

“You do not get to ask for anything tonight. You will only take what your rightful lover will give you, understood?” His fingers trace your opening teasingly as his other hand holds down your hip in control, 

“Yes, my lord,” You gape, your eyes rolling and you swore you could see the back of your skull. A plea rests heavy on your tongue, but you bite yourself so as to not break his rules tonight. 

Dream of the Endless is a gentle lover, but even his patience can run thin. His eyes run over your figure, curves prominent at the position he has placed you in. He loved you like this, vulnerable, exposed, and ready for him to do as he pleases with you tonight. 

The hotness of him presses against your entrance, sitting comfortably between your lips and he pushes forward once, twice, neither times entering you. You only whine in distress as he dances the line between teasing and pure, unadulterated pleasure. He caresses his hand over the curve of your ass, against the softness of your thighs, just like before, and you understand that he isn’t mad anymore, but you will be taught a lesson tonight nonetheless. 

He grabs the base of your hair again, the nebulas leaving shimmering stardust over his finger and presses a third time. His other hand grounds you on your hips and he pushes in. Without any proper foreplay his size stretches you uncomfortably. But, Dream of the Endless is a gentle lover so he stays still, fighting every urge in his shaking body as he looks down at your ragged breathing and uncontrollable shivers. 

He waits until you push back into him before he begins to move, taking you in inch by thick inch. He pulls out and a groan vibrates in his throat at the drag of his cock in you. The sound of your muffled moans spur him as he stares at how he enters you again. One more drag of his cock and he starts to fuck you in earnest as your whimpers grow louder. 

The sound of skin slapping against skin bounce around the room accompanied by the sound of your wonton, muffled moans. He pulls at your hair, pulling your face away from the pillows and the sounds grow louder. Each thrust he gives you makes your moans grow higher in pitch. You don’t think he’s ever been this deep in you as he scrambles the thoughts into your brain into nothing more than pleasurable gibberish. 

His hands were everywhere they could get a hold of. You’re chanting now, anything that comes across as a thought in your mind leaves your mouth in a haste of gibberish and repeats of his name like a mantra. Your clit begs for attention and with the last bit of clarity you had left, you moved one hand down towards your core. 

Morpheus is quick to stop you, giving a sound slap on the meat of your ass cheeks, the sting enough for you to yank your hand away. 

“Please,” You whine. “Please, please, please, my lord.”

“Will you return to the Faerie Prince of Khoné?” He asks between pants.

Your pussy tightens around his cock as his fingers and trusts do not slow down. Your orgasm was imminent and just barely shimmering under your skin. The question he asks sounds muffled in your mind, distorted amongst the thoughts of his unrelenting pounding and your clit pulsing from attention. 

“Hah… who?” You managed to choke out.

“Perfect answer, my star.” He whispers in your ear.

“Please,” You beg again. “I need it.” 

He thinks for a bit, considering if you deserve it as he watches you try to fuck yourself harder by meeting his thrusts. With a hum he leans over you, enveloping you in the warmth of his body as his fingers slide between your legs. He taps it once, enough to make you jump slightly in your skin, before he draws tight circles around the enlarged clit, your arousal making the action easy and slippery. 

Somewhere along the lines of your moaning, drool seeps out of you, wetting the pillow with your spit. Morpheus notices, of course, and grins at the sight. 

“Let me cum, please let me cum!” You plead into the air, obscenities of his name following soon after. 

“Very well, I shall give it to you.” 

Morpheus fucks you harder, just the way you like it, just the way he knows how to give it to you. Your orgasm is ripped out of you with a high pitched wail, sparking down your spine as little firecrackers light up in your hair, your teeth buzzing with the force of it all. The wetness of your orgasm soaks the inside of your thighs and drips down onto the sheets. Morpheus watches closely as it leaves you in a panting mess and feels himself become undone, releasing himself into the deepest part of you. 

He stays like that for a few moments, relishing in the warmth of your sex. When he does pull out, the mixture of your two arousals slowly seeps out, joining the puddle on the sheets. He calms his breathing, going back to tracing the art on your spine. You collapse in a heap of flesh and bones, using the last bit of your energy to turn over and lay on your back. Morpheus crawls over you, his hand never leaving your skin as he cups your face. 

“No more lovers but you,” You promise as he places a soft kiss on your lips. 

“I could never control you even if I wanted to, but… thank you,” He says as he accepts your promise. 

Morpheus falls beside you and pulls the blankets over both of your bodies, pulling you close so you would be flushed against his side. By now the sun has long since set and the two lovers share each other’s embrace in the company of stars. 

C for Cockwarming ⇆ E for Edging

Main Masterlist || Series Masterlist

This was my poor attempt at understanding physics and trying to personify a concept like a singularity

♡ Yours, Layla

[hauntedhowlett-writes]

the harder the rain, the sweeter the sun

pairing: storm chaser!joel miller x storm chaser!female reader

rating: explicit (18+ MDNI)

word count: 6.5k

summary:

Storm chaser-turned-weatherman Joel Miller hunts down his old crew in an effort to serve his wife with divorce papers. When a storm interrupts his efforts, he finds himself falling back into old routines and old feelings.

A Twister (1996) AU

author’s note: are you someone, like me, who was fucking obsessed with the movie twister and at one point made it your entire personality (maybe even at too young of an age)? then this fic is for you! this may be one of my favorite fics ever and i hope you enjoy it, too. please consider reblogging or commenting or even dropping into my ask box if you like the fic, i would love to hear from you!

amazing title art by @atinylittlepain

tags/warnings: explicit sexual content (18+ only, minors do not interact), explicit language, undefined age gap, able bodied reader (actions include running, lifting, climbing), no reader physical characteristic descriptions, dual pov, established relationship, estranged marriage, mentions of divorce, alternate universe - movie: twister (1996), not a direct rewrite of the movie but pretty close, storm chaser!joel, storm chaser!reader, natural disaster action scenes, mild angst, mention of reader’s parent’s deaths, praise, dirty talk, pet names, oral (f receiving), unprotected p in v, cum eating, minor character death.

masterlists: all characters | joel miller

support for palestine

The first person to notice Joel’s truck pulling up to the makeshift weather station site is his brother, Tommy.

“Look what the cat dragged in!” He says, hands on his hips. Joel gets out of his truck and Tommy envelops him in a strong hug. “Had no idea you were comin’ out here.”

“I didn’t plan on it,” Joel admits. He waves the envelope in his hand. “But I can’t get her to sign ‘em unless I track her down myself.”

The expression on Tommy’s face drops and he nods, clearing his throat. “She’s around here somewhere.”

“Probably hiding from you,” another voice chimes. Tommy’s wife, Maria, jumps from the back of a nearby pick up truck where she had been fixing a satellite. “Welcome back, Joel.”

“I ain’t back,” he grumbles, giving her a quick hug. “How’re you, Maria?”

“Sweaty,” she replies. “Heard you got yourself a nice channel gig. Must explain the suit.”

Joel looks down at his outfit of tan slacks and a matching suit jacket over a white button up shirt. He tries to think of a response, but another familiar voice calls out his name.

“The prodigal son returns!” Tess shouts. Her short hair has grown out since the last time he’s seen her, but the ever present camera around her neck remains the same. 

He notices movement from the back of one of the vans. You emerge, wiping your hands on a grease stained rag and for a brief moment, a bolt of longing courses through him like a lightning strike. 

“Joel,” you say, a smile on your face that doesn’t reach your eyes. “Wasn’t expecting you out here.”

“You won’t answer any of my calls,” he replies. A tense silence falls over the group until Maria nudges Tommy in the ribs and drags him off while Tess mumbles an excuse about checking the radio and escapes in the other direction. “Have you looked at the papers?”

“Yeah.”

“Is there a reason you haven’t signed them?”

“Been a bit busy,” you say, gesturing to the camp. “I got something you’ll want to see.”

You brush past him and Joel sighs, rubbing a hand across his face in exasperation before turning to follow you to one of the trucks. You pull yourself up into the bed and stand beside a large metal container.

“She’s here, Joel,” you say proudly, hitting one of the buttons. The lid on the unit pops open. “ELLIE.”

“No shit?” Joel asks, climbing onto the truck for a closer look. He picks up one of the spherical sensors, holding it up for inspection. “I’ll be damned. You really did it.”

“We did it,” you respond quietly. The expression on your face is painfully familiar, that combination of pride and sadness that he’s grown accustomed to in the last few years. He murmurs your name, tries to think of something else to say, but a shout interrupts his efforts.

“We’ve got action!” Tess yells. 

The camp explodes into a flurry of movement. Equipment is packed away with speed and efficiency while anything else that isn’t fragile is tossed into the nearest truck or van. Joel watches it all and remembers when he used to be part of this machine, calling out orders and getting on the radio for coordinates as he hit the gas and peeled out in a cloud of dirt and dust.

He’s so caught up in it all that he almost forgets why he was here, and when he remembers you still haven’t signed the papers he curses, running for his truck and taking off after you down the rural roads.

“You comin’ with, brother?” Tommy’s voice crackles over his truck radio. 

“She didn’t sign!” Joel says back. 

“Keep lying to yourself, Joel!” Maria calls back. 

It’s a race against time and God, the storm clouds overhead dark and churning ominously. The air is filled with static, lightning striking in the distance. Joel can feel it all in his veins, the adrenaline thick as he keeps speed with the rest of his former crew. The honk of a horn draws his eyes to the rearview mirror, where a gleaming black Surburban is gaining speed on him.

“Son of a bitch,” he snaps. He grabs the radio. “We got company!”

The Surbuban pulls up beside him, a woman in the passenger seat that refuses to look his way. Marlene, once a lab mate of yours and Joel’s in the early days of your career, is now the face of FEDRA’s corporate sponsorship. Sold out for shiny toys, Joel once said. 

“What’s Marlene doin’ here?” Joel asks. 

“Bet she’s wondering the same thing about you!” You chime in.

The convoy of uniformed vehicles speeds past him, the old trucks his crew still uses no match for them. In his distraction, he narrowly misses a fallen tree limb, careening off the dirt road with a loud bang.

“Fuck!” He shouts. His tire has gone flat.

This is the last thing he needs.

You watch Joel through the window of the little diner you’ve all made a stop at once the storm broke up on the radar as you had been driving to catch it. He’s across the street at the mechanic to get a new tire, having driven in on the spare that Tommy circled back to help him put on. You twist the plain gold band on your finger, lost in thought.

“Hey,” Tess says, sliding onto the stool beside you. “How are you doing?”

“Fine,” you reply quickly. Her keen gaze makes you fold. “Weird. It feels weird.”

“Yeah, I know. He’s in a suit.” She takes a sip of her drink. “Never thought I’d see the day.”

“He looks good.”

“Sure, if you like ‘em with a stick up their—“

“What’s channel four doing here?” You ask, cutting her insult off. The news crew is unloading their gear from their van as the anchor speaks to Marlene, who’s gesturing to a piece of equipment that looks suspiciously similar to the culmination of your life’s work sitting in the bed of your truck. “You’ve got to be fucking kidding me,” you snap, racing for the door. 

“This is ABBY, the first unit of its kind. It’s built to give us a look inside of the funnel, allowing more precise storm prediction that could mean a world of difference for preparation and survival,” Marlene says proudly. “Inside are hundreds of sensors that, once deployed, will spiral inside of the tornado and report back real-time, accurate measurements.”

“Hey!” Joel barks, coming up to the scene from the opposite direction. “What the hell do you think you’re doin’?”

“Cut!” The anchor yells as Joel crowds in close to Marlene.

“You really think you can get away with rippin’ off our idea?” Joel snaps. 

“I only took your idea and made it a reality,” Marlene responds, holding her hands up placatingly. “Face it, Joel. Your team doesn’t have the same resources to get this idea off the ground. Literally.” She laughs. “Besides, what are you doing here? I thought you retired.”

“That’s where you’re wrong. ELLIE isn’t just a dream anymore. We’ve got her here.”

Marlene’s smile falters. “Is that so?”

“Yep,” Joel says. “And she’s going to be the first in the air.”

“We’ll see about that, Joel.” She steps back, addressing her crew. “Pack it up. Let’s hit the road.”

You stand there together watching as they pull out of the parking lot and back onto the two lane highway. When they’ve disappeared from sight, you give Joel’s shoulder a tentative pat. 

“Thanks for the vote of confidence,” you tell him. “Hopefully you’re right.”

The look he gives you is serious, a furrow between his brow that you used to smooth with your thumb, back before things fell apart. You smile at the memory. The tension eases from his shoulders and his lips curl up the slightest bit, as if in response. 

“Sorry to interrupt,” Tommy says, breaking your attention from his brother. “But we got another development on the radar.”

“Alright, let’s get her,” you reply, breaking away from them to get to your truck. Joel is still standing there when you chance a look over your shoulder. “You just gonna stand there, or are you coming?”

“You still haven’t signed the papers!” He shouts back.

“I can sign them in the truck!”

He curses but jogs after you, coming up behind you and beating you to the driver’s door. “I’m drivin’,” he says.

“No,” you argue. “This is my truck.”

“You think I forgot how to drive this thing?”

“I think you’re out of practice!”

“You’re wastin’ time, just get in the fuckin’ truck,” he snaps. You roll your eyes and do as he says.

Some things never really change.

“You have to get ahead of it!” You shout. Hail pelts the roof of the truck and bounces off the windshield as Joel drives down the dirt road. Wind whips through the trees and lightning flashes in the fields while the clouds churn and peak at threatening speed.

“I know!” He shouts back, both hands tight on the wheel. “I can’t fuckin’ see anythin’!”

“Just cut across the field!”

“I can get us further ahead on the road!”

“We’re going to get stuck alongside it!”

“Do you want to drive?!” 

“I’d love to!”

Joel huffs, accelerating faster. The clouds gather more tightly, stretching from the sky towards the earth. He glances out of his window and catches a glimpse of the storm, his heart pounding as he watches the funnel organize. He watches it for a moment before slamming on the breaks, the truck fishtailing as it comes to a screeching halt.

“What are you doing?!”

Marlene’s team speeds by with angry honks of their horns, but Joel’s attention remains fixed on the tornado. “It’s goin’ to shift its path.”

“Are you sure?” You ask, squinting. 

“Look at it, it’s a sidewinder. It’s headin’ left,” he confirms. He throws the truck in reverse, speeding back towards the road they passed. The rest of the team has caught up and follows them down the one lane road. 

“There it goes!” You shout, smacking the dashboard in your excitement. You grab the radio. “Alright, tell us what you’ve got, Maria.”

“F2, shifting south. Repeat, shifting south. This thing is unstable,” she says, voice crackling over the speaker. “You guys have a shot but you’re going to be cutting it real close.”

You look at Joel, and he sees that spark in your eyes, the determination he’s always admired, even loved, and he knows he can’t say no. Not to you.

“Let’s get it.”

“We’re running out of time,” you tell him, binoculars held up to your eyes. “We’re not going to make it.” 

“We will,” he insists. Joel brakes after another half of a mile and you’re out of the cab before the truck even comes to a complete stop. 

The rain immediately drenches you, soaking through your clothes and wrapping you in an icy chill. You’re removing the tethers that hold ELLIE securely to the truck bed and turning the unit on when Joel joins you.

“We have to get it on the ground!” You shout, barely audible over the wind. One of the tethers is stuck, strap not coming loose from the buckle no matter how hard you pull. Joel jumps into the bed and tries to help but with the rain and wind, both of your hands keep slipping.

Joel looks up, eyes going wide. His hand wraps around your bicep, pulling. “We have to get out of here!”

“But ELLIE—“

“Now!” He shouts. 

A sound similar to a freight train reaches your ears and panic courses through your veins. Joel pulls on your arm again and this time you follow, jumping from the truck and running as fast as you can. He reaches an arm back towards you, grabbing your hand and tugging you along. He veers to the left, the two of you sliding down a muddy embankment and landing in a ditch. 

“Get up,” Joel urges, helping you to your feet. “We gotta get down over there by that bridge, come on!”

Together you trudge through the mud, wind picking up speed around you as the cyclone draws closer. You have your arm held up to shield your eyes from debris and your other hand in front of you, gripping Joel’s jacket tightly. 

You make it beneath the cover of the bridge, a slight reprieve from the wind and rain. Joel squeezes his body tightly to yours, pressing you against the dirt and shielding you from the storm. You open your eyes, peering past his shoulder to where you can see the edge of the wide tornado base and the debris it kicks up in its wake. 

Suddenly, the world grows quiet. The air goes still, the rain slows from a downpour to a shower. You can feel Joel’s chest heaving with breath against yours, cadence of it matching the pounding of your heart. He backs away slowly and lifts his hands, gently cupping your face.

“You okay?” Joel breathes, eyes searching. You wrap your hands around his wrists and nod. His thumb strokes across your cheekbone, slowly, before he releases your face. “Good. That’s…good.”

“Hey! You’re alive!” You both look up to find Tess at the top of the embankment, hands on her hips. “Tommy owes me twenty bucks!”

“He should know better than to bet against me,” Joel says. His attention returns to you. “Come on, let’s get out of here.”

Back at street level, you assess the damage. Your truck has been flipped, the ELLIE unit dented but still intact. More notably, the sensors didn’t deploy.

“Fuck,” you curse. “All of that and it didn’t even open.”

“There’s always next time,” Tess assures you.

“You know…we could all use a shower….and a meal,” Tommy says. You shoot him a look.

“No.”

“Come on,” he needles. “You’re covered in mud. We’ll need to get your truck towed somewhere for repairs.”

“I said no.”

“We haven’t had anything but shitty diner food and granola bars for four days,” Maria adds.

“You must really want a hot a meal if you’re willing to face Uncle Bill.”

“That a yes?” Tommy asks. Everyone watches you expectantly.

“Fine,” you sigh. “Don’t say I didn’t warn you.”

Joel rides in the van with Tommy and Maria while you go with Tess in her truck. It doesn’t take long to reach the familiar ranch style home that sits on four acres of farmland, complete with a barn that’s become more for show than for function in your Uncle Bill’s older age. 

When the van pulls up to the house, Bill’s husband, Frank, is outside on the porch, sitting in a rocking chair with a drink in hand. He waves as Tommy honks to announce their arrival.

The front door opens, Bill’s large frame filling the doorway. His beard has grown since the last time Joel saw him, and it seems as though his ever present frown has too. Joel watches you run up the porch steps and wrap your arms around both men, though Bill is quick to shove you off when he sees the state you’re in. Despite the reaction, Joel can see the ghost of a smile on his lips.

Joel stays towards the back of the group as they approach. He won’t go so far as to say he’s hiding, but it’s a near thing. Handshakes and hugs are exchanged right up until Bill catches sight of him.

“Joel,” he says, crossing his arms.

“Uncle Bill,” Joel replies.

“Just Bill is fine.”

Joel clears his throat, avoiding the man’s gaze. you appear behind him, breaking the tension. 

“I’m going to take a shower and then I can help you with dinner,” you tell Bill.

“Who said I was feeding you?” 

“Frank did.”

“Sorry, honey!” Frank yells from the kitchen. 

Joel escapes Bill’s attention with your distraction, darting into the kitchen to join the others. He helps Frank peel and dice potatoes while Maria and Tess make biscuits and Tommy helps Bill grill up a towering plate of steaks and burgers. Despite his outward show of annoyance, your Uncle Bill is a good guy who always takes care of the crew when they come rolling into his driveway, half starved and exhausted. 

“Didn’t expect to see you back,” Frank comments, tone light. 

“Didn’t expect to be back,” Joel replies. 

“What brings you here, then?”

“Got tired of waitin’ on her to sign the divorce papers.”

Frank hums in response and Joel braces himself for a speech but a minute passes in silence. Then two minutes. Frank sets his potato peeler down and leans his hip against the counter, facing Joel.

“It’s a real shame,” he says, shaking his head and staring out the window to where Bill and Tommy are laughing together. “You two were really good together.”

Joel doesn’t reply, because what is there to say? Frank is right. You and Joel were good together. Where Joel was hotheaded, you were calm. Where Joel took things too seriously, you were more carefree. But perhaps the greatest difference between you two was where Joel let fear stop him in his tracks, you let it drive you. 

It’s what started the arguments in the first place. He started feeling like he was getting too old, too worn out for chasing storms. He wasn’t as sharp as he used to be, not as quick, and it was starting to hang heavy over his head. Thoughts of retirement came to him more frequently and each time he brought it up, it would ignite an argument until he just didn’t have it in him to fight anymore. It was just easier to walk away.

“Shower’s free,” you announce as you enter the kitchen, no longer caked in mud. 

“My turn,” Joel says. Frank gives him a sideways glance but doesn’t say anything about his silence and swift exit.

Dinner is ready when he's finished with his shower and he takes a seat in the open chair beside you. The whole scene, the normalcy of it, makes Joel feel like a ship returning to port after rough seas. He missed this -- the inside jokes, the playful ribbing, Bill's annoyed huffs and Frank's wide eyed stare as he listens to you recount the events of the day. You even pat his knee when you notice his leg bouncing beneath the table, like the gesture is second nature, even though you haven't done it in the two years since he's left.

He helps with the dishes after everyone has finished eating and puts away what little leftovers remain. Tommy and Maria decide to go to bed in one of the guest rooms while Tess remains in the living room, watching a rerun of Jeopardy with Frank. Joel notices that you're nowhere to be found, but he has a feeling he knows exactly where you've gone.

He leaves the house through the back door, heading through the field towards the barn. The sun is setting, casting everything in an orange glow as the sky begins to turn shades of purple instead of blue. The old wooden doors creak as he pries them open and steps inside the building, the smell of hay hitting him in the face like a wall.

There's a loft, accessible by a ladder, that he knows you've made your own. It's been your escape ever since you were a kid, when you came to live with your Uncle Bill after a storm that destroyed your home and ripped your parents from you. He climbs up to the loft, hoisting himself onto the platform.

You're sitting on the wood floor, a quilt from the house spread out beneath you. You’ve brought a lamp up with you, warm light beating back the rapidly oncoming darkness. You look up when he stands.

“Hey,” he says, stepping closer. He kneels onto the quilt with you.

“Hey.”

You shift your weight until you’re lying on your back and Joel does the same beside you, his shoulder brushing yours. You’re both quiet for a long moment, sounds from the field drifting in through the cracks in the wood. 

“When will it be enough?” Joel finally asks. You sigh.

“Not this again,” you complain. 

“What is it about retirement that scares you so damn much?”

“Retirement doesn’t scare me. I could take the easy way out, too. I could make a pretty little weather woman for some local news channel, but that’s not what I want. It’s never been what I want.” You take a deep breath. “So stop acting surprised that I won’t change for you or anyone else, for that matter. And if that’s something that you can’t love about me—“

“It ain’t about not lovin’ you. I love you. I have always loved you. I will always love you,” he interrupts, lifting himself so that he can look at your face. Your eyes are glassy, streaks of wetness stretching from the corners to your temple. “But I can’t ever be enough for you.”

Your expression changes, shifting from sadness to surprise to anger. “What the hell are you talking about?”

“I’m gettin’ older, I’m not as good at this gig as I used to be.”

“That’s why you left? Because you think you’re…what? Holding us back?”

“Wasn’t I?”

“No! You big fucking idiot,” you snap. “I can’t believe this.” You sit up, shoving his shoulder and knocking him onto his back. You throw your leg over him, settling over his lap. His hands settle on your thighs, a reflex that hasn’t faded. Your expression is stern as you stare down at him. “You will always have a place with us. With me.”

Joel lets your words sink in, the light of them illuminating the dark parts of his mind that had convinced him you were better off without him. He slides a hand up your belly, over your chest, curling it around the back of your neck and urging you forward.

You come to him easily, your lips finding his.

It feels like coming home.

Joel’s mouth is eager as he kisses you, devours you, hands hot on your skin and leaving goosebumps in their wake. You missed this, the feeling of being consumed by him, from your body and down to your soul. 

He rolls the two of you over, easing you down onto your back and hovering over you. You gaze up at him, noting the deeper creases by his eyes and the grey that has started to become more prominent in his hair and the only thought that comes to you is how beautiful he is. 

Joel leaves wet kisses on your neck in three spots — just below your ear, right over your pulse, and just above your clavicle, a pattern he established years ago. The warm air chills the spots he’s left behind as he moves lower, down your chest, pushing up your shirt to give the same attention to your belly. It makes your stomach flip, the way he peeks up at you with dark eyes when he reaches the waist of your jeans. 

Instead of moving lower, his focus returns to your breasts. He moves the cups of your bra down to reveal your tight nipples, warm tongue circling each bud in turn. You squirm beneath his weight, cry out when his teeth scrape the sensitive skin. You can feel the smile that graces his lips.

“Still so sensitive,” he says. You gently whack his head in retaliation. “Quit it. Be a good girl or you won’t get your reward.”

“Yes, sir,” you murmur. 

“That’s it, knew you could be good for me.” He squeezes your breast in one large hand. “Just needed the right motivation.”

He sits back on his heels and makes quick work of unbuttoning your pants, tugging the zipper down before curling his fingers into the waistband and dragging them down your thighs along with your underwear. Barrier discarded, he settles on his belly between your thighs, face close enough to your core that you can feel the quick brush of his breath on your needy cunt. You wiggle your hips, hoping to spur him into action, but a strong arm holds you still and you let out a low whine.

“What’s the matter, pretty girl?” Joel asks, fingers lightly tracing your skin. “Somethin’ you want? Somethin’ you need?”

“You,” you mumble.

“Louder.”

“You, Joel.”

He kisses your inner thigh, stubble scratching the sensitive skin and making you shiver. Your breath catches in anticipation as he draws nearer to your heat. 

The first swipe of his tongue through your folds is like a bolt of lightning to your system, every nerve ending lighting up and your blood coursing hot in your veins. He starts off slow, just the way you like it, broad circles over your clit until you’re squirming in his hold. Then he dips lower, thrusting the tip of his tongue inside of you while his nose continues to nudge your aching clit. 

He brings you to the very edge of release before backing off, just enough that you don’t tip over before he’s ready for you to. It drives you crazy, has you cursing his name and begging for him in equal measure, but he’s nothing if not stubborn, generous yet greedy.

“Joel,” you cry, his name a plea. “Are you going to let me come?”

“Of course, sweetheart,” he says. His chin is shiny with with spit and slick when he looks up, eyes a little wild and hair messy from your fingers. “But not yet.”

“Fuck!” You snap, head dropping to the wood floor with a thud as he presses two thick fingers inside of you, curling them with each drag from your body.  His mouth rejoins the effort, lips wrapping around your clit. It’s too much and so good, that wave of pleasure finally coursing through you as you shatter from his ministrations.

He works you through it, tongue gentle and fingers stilling inside of you, your cunt pulsing around them. When your muscles finally relax, he sits up, holding his hand up to your face and pressing his fingers to your lips. You open your mouth obediently, the earthy taste of your release exploding across your taste buds as you lick the digits clean.

“Missed this,” Joel murmurs, watching you intently. “Missed you.”

“Missed you,” you reply. You reach your hand up, running it down his chest until you’re cupping the prominent bulge in his jeans. “Missed this, too.”

He laughs, shoulders shaking with the force of it. It pulls a smile from you, your beautiful man so carefree, no sign of that troubled wrinkle between his brows and his cheeks flushed with life, the same way they are when he’s coming down from the adrenaline of a chase. He unbuttons his jeans, shimmies the denim down just enough to free his cock.

Joel grips himself at the base, flushed head peeking from his fist. He teases your entrance, slipping his length through your wetness and bumping your still sensitive clit. Your back arches and a moan escapes your lips, one that Joel echoes himself as he slowly, slowly, slowly pushes inside of your tight heat.

“Joel,” you whisper, fingers curling tight into the quilt beneath you. “Joel.”

“I know,” he says. “God, I know.”

When his hips are flush with yours, he leans forward, elbows on either side of your head propping himself up. His cock fills you so perfectly, the stretch almost too much to bear as he starts to move. Each purposeful thrust has you seeing stars, has you gasping and moaning his name. He silences you with his lips, so messy and uncoordinated it can hardly be called a kiss. You clench around him, desperate to keep him inside of you with each drag from your body. 

“Feel so fuckin’ good,” Joel groans. “Can you come for me, baby? One more time?”

“Mhm,” you hum. He picks up the pace, quick strokes that hit your g-spot with impressive precision. You feel the knot of your release grow tighter, tighter, until it finally unravels, every nerve ending lighting up like you’ve been struck by lightning. You wrap your arms around his shoulders, holding him close as he presses deep, cock twitching and spilling inside of you.

Joel presses his forehead to yours as you both catch your breath, sweat cooling on your skin as minutes pass. When he lifts his head and stares down at you, it’s with a smile on his face.

“That was—“

“Yeah,” you agree. “See? You still got it, old man.”

“Nevermind, I still want a divorce.”

You laugh, loud and carefree. For the first time in years, you feel a sense of peace.

A sense of home.

The two of you get caught in an unexpected downpour as you leave the barn and Joel follows the sound of your laughter as you run through the field back to the main house. Inside, you press a kiss to Joel’s lips, water dripping to the floor beneath you. You’re smiling and he swears he’s never felt more alive, even when chasing the biggest storm.

When you break apart, you whisper that you’re going to take another shower and change. Joel tells you he’s going to clean up the mess to avoid Bill’s wrath. Another kiss, and another, until you finally break away and shut yourself in the bathroom down the hall. He stands there for a moment, lost in thought, until the sound of the shower running spurs him into motion and he goes to search for a towel to clean up the water that’s pooled in the hallway.

As he passes by the living room, heading for the linen closet, he notices the TV is on, the room illuminated in its flickering glow. He stops in the doorway and Frank looks up at him, a knowing smile on his face.

Joel smiles back.

For now, it’s their little secret.

The next day, Bill deems your truck operational. It has a fresh new set of dents and scratches, but it’ll otherwise drive despite the abuse. You spend some time inspecting the unit and determine the lid latch is a little too secure, which explains why the sensors couldn’t deploy. Joel helps you loosen the bolts, the simple task taking twice as long with how often he distracts you when your crew members aren’t looking. You replace the latch with another tether strap that can be quickly released on deployment.

When all is said and done, everyone takes turns saying goodbye to your uncles. Frank tells you to be safe and Bill tells you to not be stupid, which is essentially the same thing. You watch as Joel receives a handshake from Bill that’s a tad too firm, if the grimace on his face is anything to go by. 

“Alright, let’s head out,” Maria says, eyes scanning a computer screen. “Radar’s got something forming about twenty miles north of here.”

“What kind of something?” You ask.

“A big something.”

Joel catches your eye and gives you a wink. 

“Let’s go get ELLIE into the air.”

The sky ahead of you is pitch black, clouds churning ominously. There’s a certain liminality when you’re driving into a storm that never ceases to amaze you, the image in the rearview mirror bright with sunlight but a foreboding darkness ahead of you. 

“You okay?” Joel asks, drawing your attention. His hand rests on your thigh, fingers tapping against your knee. “Not gettin’ cold feet, are you?”

“About this?” You nod towards the sky. “Never.”

“That’s my girl.”

“Guys? You won’t believe this,” Maria says over the radio. You grab the transmitter.

“What is it?” You ask.

“There’s two cells. Radar maxed out.” 

“They’re funneling back,” Tess adds. “This isn’t looking good.”

“You saying we can’t do it?” You ask.

The radio is quiet for a moment before Tommy says, “If anyone can, it’s you two.”

“What are we up against?” Joel asks.

“Cell one is measuring at the cusp of a three, cell two is reaching four,” Maria continues.

“Joel.” You tap his arm. “Look.”

A funnel has formed ahead of you, still teetering in the air and not quite making contact with the ground. It’s only a few miles ahead and Joel hits the brakes as he takes it in. 

“What’s the trajectory of this?” He asks.

“Northeast.”

It’s heading your way. You both scramble from the truck, climbing into the bed to prepare ELLIE — Joel removing the tethers while you turn the unity on. The wind picks up speed as you work, dust from the road whipping around you and making it difficult to see.

“Let’s get her down!” Joel shouts. He jumps to the ground and together you ease the equipment onto the ground, removing the lid tether. After what feels like ages, ELLIE is ready and you both return to the truck.

Joel turns the truck around and drives in the opposite direction of the cyclone’s path. He stops and you can hardly breath as you watch the storm tear across the landscape.

“This is it!” Tess shouts through the radio. 

You grab Joel’s hand as the funnel nears ELLIE, the wind making the unit shift and sway. You swallow nervously.

“It’s too light,” you murmur. 

“No it’s not,” Joel says confidently. 

Closer and closer the funnel moves, but ELLIE doesn’t lift from the ground. You’re biting your lip so hard that the taste of copper blooms across your tongue.

“We’ve got a shift!” Maria says. “We’ve got a shift, due north. Due north.”

“Fuck!” Joel shouts, slamming a hand on the steering wheel.

“Guess who just showed up?” Tommy adds.

Far across the field, a familiar caravan of black vehicles speeds towards the cyclone. 

“What channel are they using?” You ask. There’s a brief silence until Tess calls back, “Six. Why?”

You switch the channel. “Marlene, you have to anchor the unit.”

“I’m a little busy right now,” she calls back. “Trying to make history over here.”

“Listen to me. Unless you manage to position your unit right under a touchdown, it’s not going to get picked up. And if it doesn’t pick up, it doesn’t deploy.”

“Maybe that’s just an issue with your unit. I can assure you ABBY will succeed where ELLIE failed.”

“Goddamnit,” you snap, tossing the transmitter down. 

“Can’t fix stupid,” Joel says. He hits the gas, bringing the truck back to ELLIE. “Let’s load her back up, maybe we can catch the second cell.”

Pack loaded once more, you return to the cab. Joel is about to put the park in drive when you place a hand over his chest. 

“Do you see what I see?” You ask.

Joel watches the twister, then Marlene’s team. He grabs the radio. 

“Marlene, listen to me. That monster is going to shift and if it does, you’re in the path of destruction and that base is too wide for you to get out of there. You have to hang back now.”

“Radar isn’t showing a shift. I’m not missing this chance,” Marlene replies.

“You gotta look at the funnel action, too. Not just the radar. You’re goin’ to get yourself killed!”

“Clear this channel, Joel. I’ve got work to do.”

“Fuck!” Joel snaps. 

Sure enough, the cyclone shifts its path, a minute change with dire consequences for Marlene and her team. The twister barrels toward the caravan, vehicles lifting from the ground. 

“Oh my god,” you whisper, bringing a hand up to cover your mouth. 

“I know,” he says. His throat bobs around a pained swallow. “We did what we could.”

Joel switches the radio back to your team’s channel, a flurry of panicked voices filling the cab. Maria’s voice snaps your name.

“Do you read me? The second cell has organized, five miles east moving north along 80.”

“Copy that,” you say as Joel drives in her suggested direction. “What’s it looking like?”

“Too soon to tell but the cloud base is massive.”

Joel drives parallel to Maria’s path suggestion, racing to get ahead of the storm. The funnel begins to form, dropping down from the restless clouds. It’s one of the biggest you’ve seen, more of a column of wind than a tapered cyclone. The strength of it grows as it hits the warm air, touching down with a contact point as wide as the funnel base.

“Wind speed is measuring at an estimated 270 miles per hour. We’ve found ourselves an F5,,” Maria says. “She’s slow, but strong. Movement only measuring at ten miles per hour, still heading east.”

Joel changes direction, heading towards the storm from the back, rather than trying to get ahead of it. 

“ELLIE needs an anchor,” you remind him.

“I know,” he says, looking over at you. “I’m giving her one.”

“We’re using the truck?”

“You got a better idea?”

“No, no, go ahead. Can’t wait to explain this one to insurance.” You unbuckle your seatbelt and take the radio one more time. “We’re sending the truck up with ELLIE. If this works, get ready for the best data in history.”

“Roger that,” Tess replies. “Ready for the feed.”

Another mile ahead, Joel gets the truck speed up to fifty miles per hour before setting the cruise control. He unbuckles his seat belt and you follow suit, throwing the passenger door open and holding onto the grab handle.

“One,” Joel shouts. “Two!”

“Three!” You finish, jumping from the cab. You hit the ground hard, rolling through your landing, the air punched from your lungs. When you’ve caught your breath, you get yourself on your hands and knees, frantically searching for Joel.

He’s kneeling in the road, watching as the truck continues to barrel towards the twister. You crawl to him and he pulls you close, an arm around your waist to hold you up beside him.

“Go, go, go!” He shouts. 

The sound of brakes squealing has you looking back over your shoulder to see your team has arrived. They gather behind you, Tess snapping photos at rapid speeds, Tommy recording video, and Maria’s eyes glued to her computer. You look ahead, just in time to watch the truck disappear into the swirling mass of debris.

Everyone is silent for a long moment, waiting. Watching. Hoping.

“I’m getting a read!” Maria shouts. “She’s up! ELLIE is flying!”

“Oh my god,” you murmur. “Joel, we did it.”

“You did it, baby,” he says. 

The twister doesn’t last long. Its power wanes, the cyclone breaking up and retreating back into the sky. You have no idea where your truck has landed, but you don’t care. You and Joel stand up, your legs shaky from the rush of adrenaline. He takes your face in his hands, pulling you into a kiss.

“You owe me one hundred dollars, Tommy!” Tess shouts.

Joel pulls away with a laugh. “What did I tell you about bettin’ against me?”

“Does this mean you’re back?” Maria asks.

The arm around your waist tightens, pulling you closer.

“Yeah,” he says, smiling. “I’m back.”

[fantasywater]

An analysis of Octavia's and Blitz's callouts toward Stolas vs Stolas's against Stella

I've finally realized why Stolas's call out scene to Stella doesn't work,but Blitz's and Via's toward him does.

It's because Stolas is 100% in the wrong in all three of these cases.

When you're writing a take back my power scene then there must be proper buildup to it to induce catharsis when the scene happens.

Octavia's buildup of Child Neglect:

-Loolooland

-Ozzie's Song

-Seeing Stars

-Mastermind

Sinmas is the payoff.

Blitz's buildup of Sexual Extortion:

-Murder Family

-Loolooland

-Harvest Moon Festival

-TruthSeekers

-Ozzie's

-Oops

FullMoon is the payoff.

Stolas's buildup of Spousal Abuse:

In the Circus Stella says some brutally honest ribbing that morning, and then at the party to her two friends and yea that's it.

The Circus is the payoff.

The same episode that the badly written abuse is featured in and then never seen again.

The issue with Stolas's tormentor is that we were introduced to her as the wronged party. Then Stolas keeps wronging her in every episode he's featured in season one. So when he has his call out it falls flat because she is the one that was aggrieved by him.

Furthermore since the balcony scene happens directly after Ozzie's her trying to slap him is still in the vein of his adultery which is understandable. Her trying to kill him also falls under it.

It also helps her case that our main characters are assassins, and Murder Family featured a cheated on women being portrayed sympathetically for trying to do the exact thing Stella did.

So, except for saying some mean but true words in a flashback, all her aggressive actions towards Stolas are a direct result of his infidelity.

As a matter of fact her call out for his cheating in LooLooland is the one that seems more legitimate than his in the Circus because again she is the wronged party of his remorseless and repeated adultery.

Even in Loolooland all three of his victims are hostile toward him throughout the episode, and Via's call out on that apple cart cosigns her mother's anger earlier in the kitchen for the same offense.

Even Via's new call out in Sinmas touches on his infidelity again therefore further vindicating Stella.

I also love that the Stolitz fans final save has been squashed by Octavia in this same episode.

They thought that if Via found out her father martyred himself for her then she'll be on his side about Stella.

However, by finding the pills she came to the correct assumption that he stayed miserable (circus balcony scene) because of her, and that she was an obligation(arranged for an heir). Basically she became pissed at him about those revelations not sympathetic.

Blitz and Via's felt earned because they had proper buildup of being 100% the victim getting catharsis from their abuser Stolas. All Stella's present day actions against him are because of his adultery, and her only pre-infidelity meanness were some brutal honesty to her friends that came and went in the same episode. Therefore his catharsis scene felt forced just to justify him blowing up his family.

[myownwholewildworld]

WHEN THE GRIEF HOWLS ― a javier peña's autumnal oneshot (pt.2)

main masterlist | read part 1 | read on ao3 pairing: javier peña x f!reader (same couple as "when the moon howls"). can be read as a oneshot. summary: javi and you go back to yours after your idyllic pumpkin patch date and he stays over. you comfort him when his demons catch up with him. a/n: hiya! i OBVIOUSLY do not know what "oneshot" means??? bahhaha. this is another entry for @goodwithcheese and @jolapeno's jolabrew + withcheese fall challenge because i'm just so inspired by it all and javi has me on a chokehold. i promise this is my last entry. also thanks to sweet jo because she kinda sowed the seed and here we are! any notes you may wanna leave to keep me motivated are most welcomed c: take care lovelies <3 x warnings/tags: 18+, mdni (no smut here, but still). very mild/veiled allusions to intimacy. post season 3 of narcos, canon-deviating as javi is not hailed a hero upon his return to laredo, but quite the opposite. fluff - they are madly in love y'all. domestic bliss. angst. a smidgen of hurt, loads of comfort. description of a panic attack and vivid nightmares. mentions of ptsd and therapy. halloween/autumnal vibes. nightmare before christmas is mentioned because duh. both javi's and reader's povs (that's more like it). no use of y/n. no description of reader (moodboard is only for aesthetic purposes). unbeta'd, soz. w/c: 4.7k divider by @saradika-graphics

Sunday, 1st November 1998.

2:53 AM.

The bodies just kept piling up in front of his eyes.

Every person whose death he had witnessed.

Every body who had been hung off bridges.

Every person who had died because of a decision he had made.

Every soul he himself had extinguished.

The innocent bystanders, other governmental agents, politicians who had tried to fight the drug lords.

The 1989 Avianca flight that was brought down by a bomb planted by the Medellín cartel. Flight 203 had reaped the lives of one hundred and seven blameless lives ―one hundred and ten, he corrected himself― just because Escobar had wanted to eliminate his political opponent, César Gaviria Trujillo, who, by a fateful twist of the universe, never ended up boarding the flight.

The pictures of such tragedy still stuck with him, burnt into his retinas like a photo negative ― every time he blinked, the colours would pour into the frame, the vision grotesque and gut-turning.

Every single one of them was a failure Javier could not elude, could no longer bury in the most godforsaken drawer of his brain. A failure that would haunt him, would become corporeal in his vivid nightmares.

With the eyes of his dreaming imagination, he could see every one of them souls in front of him ― judging him, blaming him, eyes full of hatred. Accusatory fingers pointing at him, as if it was his Day of Reckoning.

All this piteous death, all this mindless suffering ― for naught.

He had made no true, tangible difference. He had fallen short.

And he was failing all over again in his lucid dream. Unable to stop them from dying, he saw each one of them perish in front of him until a heap of foul death surrounded him.

Javier finally felt it, even welcomed it ― the Grim Reaper’s noose loosely wrapping around his neck. Then taut and firm, a tight caress ghosting his skin. There was no going back, but there was no more guilt either. A bittersweet yet soothing balance, one that could only be served by the Ghoul’s scythe.

And then Death lifted him up, the hanging rope coiling on the tree branch ― suffocating him as his averted eyes watched the scene unfurl underneath him. A snarled mess of bodies, some hands reaching up to him. He would ―should― join them, after all.

A purposeful man would have struck back ― kick his feet, unfettered from his restrain.

But he didn’t fight back. He didn’t have it in him anymore. He got exactly what he deserved.

Javier startled awake, panting and sweating from such terrible nightmare. His heart was pounding against his ribs, his breathing accelerated causing him a painful stitch. He felt his chest caving in with all the panic that had slowly but steadily built up inside him.

His reaction was so severe, he had sprung up and sat up on the mattress. All he could hear was his blood heavily flowing through his eardrums; all he could see was darkness; all he could smell was the lingering stench of death; all he could taste was his remorse; all he could touch were dead, cold bodies.

Javier bent his knees, soles against the bedsheets, and leaned forward with his head buried between his knees. Eyes closed, he had to concentrate on his breathing and slowing down his racing heart. Otherwise, the panic would only grow and grow and grow until madness took over him.

Then a soothing, grounding hand slithered under the back of his tee shirt, a warm touch against his cold, damp skin. Only at that point did he remembered he wasn’t at his dad’s place, wasn’t alone either. His strained muscles visibly relaxed without him even trying.

“Javi,” your sleepy voice prevailed over his drowning anxiety. “It’s alright, I’m here.”

He still didn’t know what he had done to deserve you, to have you by his side, strong and unyielding ― ready to fight his demons for him if necessary. You loved so fiercely, so deeply, at first he tried to fight it. To spare you.

But how could he? You were the moon that imposed the perfect cadence on his tide, calling him home at night. The moment he had landed his eyes on you and your orbits had crashed, he was a lost man ― lost to you, to your smile, to your unquivering positivity, your calmness, your ease to listen, to give advice, to help without asking for anything in return.

But how could you? Even when his grief was howling loud and clear, you loved him. Despite all his flaws and faults, his obvious defects, you saw past it all ― even past the rumours that flew around in Laredo about him. He knew you had heard all the gossip, how people talked about his fictional shenanigans with the drug lords, a willing participant in their endeavours. How he did drugs on the job and sold some of it back to the narcos. Javier had been deaf to all of it ― he didn’t care for what people were saying. Didn’t even bother to put a stop to it, because he had enough open fronts to fight as it was.

Even his childhood friends had turned their backs on him. But not you. Never you. Not even when he had shared his darkest secrets with you over a pumpkin spice latte and a slice of pumpkin cake. Instead of withdrawing from him, you held his hand as he had talked with a heavy heart and short of breath. The flashes coming back to him, you soothed by the mere caress of your fingertips.

You had touched his core ―just as you were touching him now―, kneaded it until it softened like clay on the hands of an expert ceramist. Javier didn’t think himself worthy of love, not after everything he had done and seen. Colombia had shattered him ― Javier had lost all hope in humanity.

The life he had sustained in Colombia had finally caught up with him, destroyed the person he had been prior to all of it. Once a womanizer, he had no longer found respite in laying with his informers. Had even quit smoking, only to go back to it a few weeks later ― the crushing anxiety pushing him back to the stale taste of tobacco. He had cut down on the black coffee too.

In spite of that, he was far from being a reformed man. He even doubted he could ever be a normal civilian. The trauma that haunted him had a tight grip on him, hefty shackles wrapping around his wrists. And his heavy breathing and sweating were a testament to his struggles.

“Javi?” You called again, your tone delicate and heartening.

Slowly Javier came out of his sluggish haze ― your palm rubbing his spine, beckoning him to come back to reality.

Lifting his head up, elbows on knees, he looked at you over his left shoulder.

“I’m sorry, didn’t mean to wake you, pequeña (little one).” His hoarse voice felt unlike him, so he cleared his throat.

You sat back up on the bed, your hand wrapping around his waist until the palm flushed against his tummy under his tee. You kissed his shoulder and then his lips.

“You should have woken me up earlier, Javi. I want to be by your side when your nightmares startle you. I wanna help you, I wanna be there for you. Always.” Your words tugged at his heart, knowing full well you truly meant them.

A weak, crooked smile took over the muscles of his mouth. How easy you uprooted a grin from him ― you were so effortless to love, to care for, it felt as natural as breathing.

“Old habits die hard.” Javi muttered, bowing forward a bit seeking your warm, welcoming lips.

He had bottled all his suffering up for months now, years. It was hard to let go ― one of the main reasons he had signed up for therapy.

You smiled into the kiss, your fingertips lightly stroking the sensitive skin around his belly button.

“Baby steps.” You pressed a few consecutive pecks on his lips.

Javier sighed, visibly relaxing now as his body released the tension under your attention. He then laid flat on his back again, dragging you with him until your cheek was pressed against the centre of his chest. After, you buried your face in the crook of his neck while your left hand wiped the pearly drops of sweat off his forehead before raking his untamed hair back. That same hand quickly burrowed under his tee shirt, rubbing his clammy skin ― you didn’t seem bothered by his perspiration.

“Do you want to talk about it?” You asked, your lips brushing his jawline.

“It’s just the same nightmare I always have. I was being hung off a tree, dead bodies piling up beneath me.” He struggled to say out loud, unconsciously reaching for his neck where the imaginary noose had tightened.

Your fingers forced his to move to one side so you could kiss his Adam’s apple ― the feeling of the rope around his neck replaced by the calming flick of your mouth.

Javier closed his eyes, his bad dream gradually fading away.

“Did you fight back?” He had told you that was what the therapist had recommended he tried if the nightmare was vivid enough ― that he attempted to regain control.

“No, I couldn’t. Not yet.” He murmured; a tad ashamed of himself.

“That’s okay, Javi.” You reassured him, feeling his vulnerability, as your hand caressed his tummy. “Baby steps”, you repeated.

Javier nodded, turning his face to you so he could press a kiss to your forehead. You snuggled a bit more into his side.

“Go back to sleep, pequeña.”

“Only if you do.” You challenged him with a smile.

Javi let go of a snort, unsurprised by your stubbornness.

“Alright, let’s go back to sleep then, both of us.”

6:14 AM.

The thumping rhythm under your fingertips alerted you to Javi’s awakening. Or perhaps he had been subtle enough this time not to wake you up. His heart pumped so hard, you could count his every heartbeat. With your hand still under his tee shirt, lazily resting on the middle of his chest, your thumb traced his sternum a few times.

“I thought you said both of us?” You muttered light-heartedly, your lips brushing his earlobe.

Javi inhaled and then steadily exhaled, his pulse slowing down.

“I just woke up a couple of minutes ago.”

You didn’t know if he was lying or not, but you believed him. Every word he said, you knew to trust. The last few weeks you had unearthed the real Javi, had dusted off so many secrets and emotions, you just knew he had no need to lie to you. There was really no point.

It was weird to think that yesterday you believed this impossible. Your friendship with Javi had developed so fast, you didn’t even have a chance at confessing your true feelings for him. You thought you concealed them well, afraid of losing him ― because you rather had him as a close friend, than not having him at all. A coward maybe, but a coward with him by your side.

You had not planned to fall in love again, not after your last breakup. However, Javier was so different, so down to earth and as broken as you were, you had fallen for him before you even gave yourself a chance at love again. Perhaps you had been putting his pieces back together and thrown yours in the puzzle too ― to the point that your stitches ended where his began.

Unbeknownst to you, Javi had been harbouring feelings for you too. Not even in your wildest dreams would you have thought he would be the one to take the risk. You had melted at the first touch of his lips, as if that was exactly where you belonged. As if all experiences up to that point had led you to his arms. You were meant to be ― two broken soul pieces that fit together perfectly.

Last night had been the best one of your life, no doubt in your mind. Hidden under the linen, you had silently played a new version of “trick or treat” together ― where there were no tricks, but many treats. With the language of your hands, you had read the braille on every groove of his skin. He had mapped you out in return too ― hungry, needy hands making you shiver.

You could still feel the warmth, the love, his scarce yet reassuring words.

‘There are no better toasts than those made by your eyelashes’, he had told you in whispered bliss.

You smiled at the memory ― a heavy, comforting sensation wrapping around your heart, blanketing your whole being.

“What’s on your mind, cariño (honey)?”

You didn’t want to press him, just wanted him to open up if he felt the need to. Javier stirred to lay down on his side ― his forehead against yours, the tips of your noses nuzzling. The intimacy of his closeness made you swoon, but his words wore you down ever so slightly.

“Judy Moncada. Los Pepes. The CIA. The newspaper. All of it, really.” You felt the pain in his voice as your own.

You knew how hard he had worked, for all of it to be taken away so quickly, so dismissively. He had been the scapegoat, and it almost ruined him. No wonder why he took a step back and returned to Laredo.

It still made your blood boil how the town had received him, how they treated him like a pariah. But it was their fucking loss. If they were too blind to see Javier Peña for who he really was, then Javi had not really lost much. You were just glad you had not listened to Alejandra the first day you met him ― otherwise it would have been a great loss to you.

You kissed his forehead, his closed eyes ― his eyelashes tickling the fragile skin of your lips. Then you pressed a chaste peck on his mouth while he enveloped you in a tight embrace.

“Life’s so unfair, I wish I could make them see. See who you really are, Javi. But some people are too stubborn. It’s easier to believe lies rather than the truth. It’s their loss.” You spoke softly, understanding where his train of thought was going.

Javi didn’t reply ― he just kissed your neck in silent gratitude, the hairs of his kempt moustache making you feel ticklish.

“Since last night we were― uhm, busy,” to put it mildly, “I was thinking that today we can do what I had planned for last night.” You suddenly said to distract him.

You couldn’t see, the darkness enveloping you both, but you knew his brows were knitting in confusion.

“What had you planned?” He asked, curiosity staining his question.

You smiled.

“Well… Since you don’t know, it’ll be a surprise.”

7:46 AM.

“Is it really broken?” You pouted from the other side of the counter, walking around to meet Javi.

He had a handheld mixer and was insistently pressing on the button to turn it on to no avail. He clicked his tongue.

“Yeah, it ain’t working. Gonna have to mix all of this by hand, ain’t I?” You laughed at his frustration, as you took the device from him to inspect it.

Yes, it was broken alright. Damn.

“I’m afraid so.” You removed the whisks and handed them to him. “Unless you’re not up to the task?” You cocked a challenging brow.

Javi scoffed, rolling his eyes and snatching the tools off your fingers.

“Please. I think I can handle a pumpkin cake.”

His offence was faked, and you couldn’t help but giggle. He quickly followed as he started battering everything by hand.

“I’m already done with the cheese frosting. So once you’re finished, we’ll leave it to bake for forty minutes.” You explained, leaning against the counter to watch what he was doing.

“And after?”

“Don’t be so impatient. You finish off here while I go look for… something.”

Javi squinted his chocolate eyes and pouted, shaking his head. He was not going to get you to talk.

“Stay here, and don’t come looking for me!” You threatened, burying a finger in his chest, before running away, smirking.

Two minutes later you were deep down in your closet, searching for the boxes labelled “Halloween decorations”. You had only planned to be in Laredo for a year, but that did not stop you from bringing with you all your seasonal décor. And All Hallow’s Eve, being the peak of your favourite season, had to be celebrated properly.

So, you dragged the two boxes out and then dived back in. On your tiptoes, your fingers brushed the rectangular box you were trying to reach for on the top shelf. But as much as you tried, you were not tall enough to get to it.

“Need a hand there?”

You quickly turned around ― Javier had sneaked behind you and scared the shit out of you.

You slapped his shoulder, and he cackled.

“Don’t do that! Almost had a heart attack!” You joked, although your heart was really pounding against your ribcage.

“Let me help with that.” He offered.

Javi easily reached for the box and took it down.

His brows touched each other when he saw what the box was. Then looked back at you with question marks dancing in his pupils.

“I think I got the wrong box.”

You shook your head no, suppressing a laugh.

“No, that’s the right one.” You curled your fingers, your palm extended towards him, asking for the box.

Javier reluctantly gave it to you.

“I don’t get it. You’re like almost two months off?”

You chuckled again, pushing the tall box to your chest as if hugging it. “Can you carry those two boxes to the living room for me, please?”

He obliged, albeit the confusion was still painted on his gorgeous face. You led the way with Javi on your heels. Once you both settled everything on the floor, you spun around to glance at him with puppy eyes and hands laced in a prayer.

“Don’t judge me, okay?” You started off, fluttering your eyelashes exaggeratedly. “I’ve been doing this since I was a kid. It’s what my family call a Hallotreen―”

“A Hallo-what?” He interrupted you, a grin fighting its way to the outside.

“Hallotreen. It’s a Halloween tree! Like a Christmas tree, but with spooky decorations! I usually put it up on Halloween night, so it’s ready for All Saint’s Day and All Soul’s Day.”

You extended your arms at your revelation, as if to say, “Isn’t it obvious?!”.

Javi first looked at you blankly, and then erupted in laughter. You couldn’t help yourself but join him as he took a step forward to drape his arms around you, his comforting hands landing on the small of your back.

“God, you’re so full of surprises. I love it, I love you.” You could tell it had slipped from his tongue by mistake, because his fun expression quickly darkened.

Your heart skipped a beat at the sudden confession. You leaned back a bit, studying his beautiful face, and tilted your head to one side while you considered his words.

“Do you mean it?” You cooed in a hush, feeling so vulnerable, so raw.

Javi’s eyes locked on yours for a never-ending minute. Then they slowly drifted down to your parted lips and nodded as he, unhurriedly, bowed down towards you.

“Yes, I do. I do mean it, pequeña.” He purred, no joking timbre in his words.

Your heart contracted and then expanded in an outburst, your lungs filling up with his minty breath as you tiptoed to meet his mouth before you hummed, “I love you too.”

When your lips crashed, the tenderness pouring from his mouth into yours soothed any lingering doubt. Although sudden, your love was true. You were not imagining it ― Javi felt the same way. You never believed in the tales of love at first sight, but now that you were the protagonist of such story, you definitely did.

The kiss naturally came to an end and Javi pressed his lips against your forehead, holding you still in his hug for a sweet moment. How you wished you could stay between his arms forever.

‘Maybe we do have forever.’ That thought made you slightly emotional. You could see Javi by your side until the end of days. With a family of your own. It just felt natural.

“Alright, let’s do this then. So we put the tree up first?” Javi asked, amused.

You laughed as you took a step back and knelt down to open the box the Christmas tree was in.

“Yeah, and let me tell you. It’s a big one. Seven feet of pure bliss!” You laughed while unpacking it, Javi soon on his knees helping you out, chuckling too.

Ten minutes later, the tree was up, and you both had started to sort out all the Halloween decorations that came in the plastic boxes. There was a big assortment of different bits and bobs, and you directed Javi to get all pumpkin-shaped trinkets sorted first.

Once you had a healthy pile, you both hung all the decorations on the tree with no real pattern. You peppered some pumpkins here and there; some autumnal, plastic leaves to make the tree look fuller and fluffier. You also had some Halloween-themed baubles ― one with a witch inside, other with a pumpkin patch, another one with a murder of crows floating inside. You also dotted some stringed pinecones around the tree.

You had been curating your collection for so long now, you had way too much stuff, and Javi quickly picked up on it.

“What are we going to do with the rest? There’s so much here, I’m starting to think you have a problem?” He joked, sinking a finger on your side, tickling you.

You chortled, trying to avoid his tickling attack. Javi grabbed you by the elbow and forced you to slam against his chest.

“Well… I must confess. If you think this is a lot, it’s because you have not seen my Christmas collection.”

His eyes widened in feigned horror, and then laughed.

“Can’t wait for Christmas then.”

You smiled at him before gently kissing his collarbone. Then you faced the Hallotreen, holding his hand in yours.

It was a masterpiece. The perfect balance of different hues ― oranges, browns, reds, dark greens and some black dotted around. It looked perfect with all the trinkets filling it.

It made you so happy, you clapped your hands before turning to look at an enlivened Javi.

“It’s just missing the final touch.” You announced as you rummaged through one of the boxes and took out the best piece of them all, presenting it to Javi as if it was the Holy Grail. “Ta-dah!”

It was a figurine of Jack Skellington, from one of your favourite movies ― The Nightmare before Christmas. Jack was on a sitting-down position, perfect to crown the tree.

“It’s a Jack tree-topper. I almost fainted when I first saw it a few years ago. It cost me $100, but it was worth every. single. penny”, you punctuated ― you would smack him if he said otherwise.

Luckily, Javi agreed with you with a pleasant hum and a crooked smirk.

“Let’s put it up then, the King of the Pumpkin Patch needs to have a good panoramic view of his kingdom.” He jested and you were so happy with the reference, you could only love him a bit more ― if that was even possible.

Out of nowhere, Javi knelt down in front of you, his back towards you. He looked over his shoulder at you, brows furrowed, when you didn’t move. Javi lightly patted his shoulder.

“C’mon, up.”

“What? You want to carry me on your shoulders?” You asked, confused.

“Yeah, how are you gonna reach the top if not? That’s seven feet.”

You took a step back, gripping the tree-topper tight between your hands and let go of a guffaw.

“Nope, not happening. I’m gonna crush you! I’ll get a―”

A perfect eyebrow raised into his forehead, and he scrunched his lips, his moustache moving from side to side with disapproval.

“I said up.” His tone was commanding ― Javi would not accept no for an answer. “Come on, don’t make me make you.”

With a sigh, you let go of your insecurities and ended up sitting on his shoulders. Javi’s firm hands rested on your knees as he slowly stood up, keeping a perfect balance.

You chuckled nervously as he walked to the tree. Trying to find your own balance, you planted your left hand of Javi’s forehead. Or what you thought was his forehead, because he then complained.

“Hey, I can’t see!”

You looked down ― you had covered his eyes by mistake, so you quickly lifted your hand up and placed it on his forehead.

“Sorry!”

Javi laughed in reply. Reaching up with the hand holding the figure, you were finally able to set it down without breaking it.

“Yay! Done!”

He knelt down again, releasing your knees from the prison of his hands, and your feet finally rested against the wooden floor. When Javi got up, you both took a step back to admire such work of art.

“Dare I say myself? This looks amazing, the best Hallotreen I have ever had!” You screeched with excitement, almost jumping in place.

When Javi didn’t respond, you glanced up at him. His eyes, darkened with something deep and warm, were intently studying your face. His expression was so relaxed, so at peace, you knew the nightmares were now a forgotten memory ― at least until tonight.

Knowing you could be a balm to his emotional wounds made your heart twist with longing. You wished you could take it all away, that you could take his place and suffer it all for him, so he didn’t need to. You loved him so dearly, you promised yourself that Javi would never have to go through such trauma ever again.

He lifted one hand up and tucked a strand of hair behind your ear ― such a loving gesture, your heart melted for him.

“What?” You asked, timid, with a nervous laugh.

“Nothing.” He buzzed, hugging you close to his torso.

The kiss started off soft and tender, a mere graze of his lips against yours. And before it became sultry and demanding, the oven’s clock started beeping.

Javi grunted and you grinned. Grabbing his hand, you dragged him to the kitchen.

9:22 PM.

“Oh, somewhere deep inside of these bones an emptiness began to grow. There's something out there far from my home. A longing that I've never known…” Jack was lamenting on the background.

Javier couldn’t help but look at you over his mug of hot chocolate. You were laying down on the couch with your back against his chest, tightly gripping your mug and buried under a fleece blanket. The living room was dark, only two sources of light: one was the TV playing Tim Burton’s Nightmare Before Christmas, and the other was the string of lights wrapping around the Hallotreen.

He could grow used to this, to you. Jack’s Lament somewhat resonated with him ― there was a longing in his heart he had never known before. And that longing now had a name ― yours.

Javi had to suppress a lopsided smirk when you kept on mumbling the lyrics of the song. You knew all the dialogue, all the songs, every single scene. And he let you talk throughout the movie, because he loved listening to all the comments you needed to let out. You were far too excited ― and so was he.

Yes, he could definitely get used to this. To you.

If you didn’t mind, he’d like to join you by your side.

Where you both could gaze into the stars and sit together, now and forever.

For it was plain, as anyone could see, you simply were meant to be…

[dark-and-kawaii]

༺ 𝒯𝒾𝑒𝒻𝓁𝒾𝓃𝑔𝓈 & 𝒯𝒽𝑒𝒾𝓇 𝒟𝓇𝓊𝒾𝒹 𝒞𝒽𝒾𝓁𝒹𝓇𝑒𝓃 ༻

A cute idea I came up with right after writing the first part. I love the thought of these men having cute little Druid babies that turn themselves into kittens. Enjoy ♡

PRT 1 (Click Here) - Zevlor - Rolan - Dammon -

- 𝒵𝑒𝓋𝓁𝑜𝓇 -

In the quiet darkness of your bedroom, Zevlor and you lay curled up together, finding solace in each other's warmth. Zevlor, with a gentle smile on his face as he slept, had his tail gently resting against your hip as he held you close. Your shared bed a place where the two of you could find peace after a long day.

As the night wore on, a muffled cry broke the silence, piercing through your sons room. Your son, a young tiefling druid, had been plagued by a troubling nightmare that caused him to shift into a small kitten in his sleep. Unable to shake off the remnants of his nightmare, and now stuck in his wildshape form he wandered towards his parents' room. His tiny paws padded silently through the moonlit corridors, seeking the loving presence of his parents. He soon reached your bedroom door, filled with a sense of urgency. In his feline form, he struggled to leap onto the high bed, his little paws desperately pawing at the loose sheets hanging down instead, an attempt to stir his parents' slumber.

Faint squeaks of distress escaped his tiny, furry throat, tugging on Zevlor's slumbering consciousness. Stirring awake, he blinked away the remnants of sleep, realizing the source of the commotion. As Zevlor turns his gaze towards his son he notices his struggles and the worry etched on his feline face. Understanding the turmoil his son was in, and with his own concern he swiftly acted, “There there, I have you little one.”

With a graceful twist of his tail, Zevlor coiled it around the frightened kitten known as his precious son, wrapping him in its comforting embrace. Lifting him with delicate care, Zevlor brought his son into the warm cocoon of his shared bed, drawing him towards his chest and into the sanctuary of his embrace.

You, roused by the commotion, opened your eyes to observe the scene with tender eyes. Understanding the depth of your son’s distress, you shifted yourself closer to both your son and Zevlor, your arms wrapping around his to help create a castle of love around your son. His feline form slowly dissipating as he felt the love and reassurance from both you and his father.

- 𝑅𝑜𝓁𝒶𝓃 -

The past week you’ve been bugging Rolan to have another child, claiming he makes the best father… which he does, but in actuality you wanted a child to carry out your Druid bloodline. Rolan on the other hand was content with the two he already had, in all truth he’s not even sure how he ended up with two, he barely wanted one and now you’re asking for another. So, Rolan did what he knew best and tried to keep you distracted by showing off some magic up in his tower as he worked.

The air around them crackled with auras of magic, Rolan’s audience was none other than his dearest family. You, with a smile warm as a summer's eve, his daughter, on your lap, beaming with sparkling joy, and his son, sprawled on a desk while Lia and Cal watch next to you.

"Daddy is so cool!" Your daughter tittered, clapping her hands wildly in appreciation and childish glee. “Usually he has performance issues,” Cal snorted back to his niece, “but I guess he’s past those days since he had yo-“ Lia elbowed Cal in the ribs while shooting him a look of disagreement, “Let Rolan have his moment! Besides, she has no idea what you’re talking about anyway!”

Rolan only sighs, “Don’t listen to them sweetheart.”

You looked on fondly at the scene; your daughter's overjoyed excitement and Rolan's faint smirk of pride making her smile. But of course, you couldn't let him off so easily, poking at him was just always too easy.

"Oh Rolan, it's always the same trick. I was hoping for something new today," You wink at your tiefling husband, pulling your daughter extra close. His son piped up in agreement, "Yeah dad, do something else."

Rolan turned around, responding to his son with a wry smile. "Patience! I’m working up to it-" As he spun, his careless movements knocked over a potion bottle conveniently close to where his son sat. And in that moment, the area was shrouded in a haze of green smoke.

When the smoke dissipated, sitting there was an infernal kitten where their son had been. “ROLAN!” You let out a gasp, quickly covering your mouth with your hand. The little tiefling girl, by contrast, erupted in laughter, shouting, "kitty!" The son turned kitten meowed in response, looking quizzically at his surprised family.

“Gooood job, Rolan. That’s definitely a new one for the books.” Cal clapped slowly at his brother. Lia just held her head, shaking it tired of Cal’s remarks.

Rolan pointed at their now feline son. “Brilliant! See, no need to try for another child, you have your Druid bloodline right here!" He was swiftly met with a death glare from you, his wife, yet the quip in his smirk did not falter. "I’m only teasing, love…partially."

- 𝒟𝒶𝓂𝓂𝑜𝓃 -

Dammon and you found yourselves enveloped in a rare moment of silence. Your three children, seemingly lost in slumber. With a sense of anticipation and romance, Dammon took it upon himself to prepare an exquisite dinner for the two of you. The enticing aroma of your favorite dishes wafted through the air, setting the mood for an lovely evening. Soft candlelight bathed the table, casting dancing shadows that added a nice touch to your surroundings.

“It’s been a while since we’ve been able to do something like this, let’s not waste the rest of the night, shall we?” Dammon rose from his seat, a warm smile illuminating his face. He extended a hand towards you, his eyes shimmering with affection. "May I have the this dance, my love?" he asked, his voice filled with tenderness and a slight blush across his cheeks.

Stepping outside and into your small garden, the moonlight bathed you both in a gentle glow. Your bodies moved in perfect harmony, your feet gliding across the ground as if guided by unseen forces. Dammon's tail swayed gracefully in time with the rhythm.

Your children on the other hand were indeed not sleeping and instead joined the two of you outside, hidden by the magic of their druidic lineage, had transformed into three adorable kittens. Their tiny paws treaded silently across the grass as they approached their dancing parents, their eyes wide with wonder.

As Dammon and you twirled and spun, your laughter and joyous whispers filled the air. The kittens, their tiny tails swaying in unison, watched their parents in awe.

Just as their father wrapped his tail around your leg before pressing his forehead against yours, your eldest son of the three, couldn't help but wiggle his tail, imitating his father's playful gesture and wrapping his tail around his brothers’. Your youngest daughter, the mischievous one, attempted to spin in circles, her tiny body mirroring the dizziness she felt from watching the dance. The middle son, the most observant of the trio, took in every delicate movement while his brother messed with his tail.

With an accidental stumble, your youngest daughter or rather kitten, tumbled out of her hiding place, landing with a soft thud into the opening. The sudden noise caught Dammon and yours attention, your dance interrupted by the unexpected sound.

Dammon's lips curled into a playful smile, his arms crossed over his chest as he raised a single eyebrow.

"Well, well, what do we have here?" he said, his voice filled with a mix of amusement and affection.

You, unable to hide your own smile, stepped towards the kittens, your eyes filled with love as you extended a gentle hand, beckoning them closer to join the two if you.