#and this was like six levels above that

[mxcrayon]

losing my actual mind rn

i had this interaction in the dropout discord (i am the first and third person). short. simple. i only got the first year bc of a discount + a gift card i had, so i was planning on using this person's suggestion.

then, i got this.

oh my god!! how nice!! how sweet!!! how thoughtful!! i gave them my email and they sent over a subscription, i thanked them profusely. i was very grateful, very touched.

hours and hours later i was still thinking about it and i recalled how, in the email id gotten about it, it said "tao yang sent you a subscription" and id seen that and thought "oh haha like the tao yang" and then moved on

but now, thinking back, i was like.... theres no way, so i googled tao yang.

......

TAO YANG BOUGHT ME A FUCKING ANNUAL DROPOUT SUBSCRIPTION

[violetsareblue-selfships]

good morning!! <333

[smileysuh]

eat it

🌙 starring. Jaehyun x afab!Reader 

🔮 preview. “I mean, what if we make a deal? For every ‘A’ you get on these three tests in November, I’ll eat you out till you’re begging me to stop. And in December, if you pass your physics final with a grade above eighty-six percent, I’ll fuck your brains out.”

tw/cw. Unprotected sex, pussy eating, foreplay, face grinding, dry humping, breast worship, fingering, squirting, dirty talk, using sex as inspiration to study, no nut november, blue balls, dirty talk, praise, multiple little sex scenes, big dick Jaehyun, slight phone sex, mentions of masturbation, teasing, etc… I pet names: (hers) baby.

👹 rating.18+ explicit I wc. 4.5k

🍭 aus. Uni au, fuck buddies to lovers, no nut november, etc…

☀️ mlist + an. Short but sweet :) was missing Jae

One:

Jaehyun can tell something is off with you, and despite you being someone he holds at a distance with the label ‘fuck buddy,’ he actually cares about what’s going on in your head, especially when it’s clearly taking away from your enjoyment of him.

He’s not the type to bring something up mid fuck session, but when you both finish, he takes the opportunity to address it.

“You seemed distant today,” he notes.

You release a deep sigh. “November is coming up, I’ve got three big tests and then finals in December, and I’m just… I’m feeling overwhelmed.”

The two of you had decided to keep a purely physical relationship with the idea of focusing on school. You both feel as if you’re too busy with your studies to put as much effort into dating as you’d like, so you’d come to an agreement to fuck whenever you’re both needing it, and keep other things as surface-level as possible.

Despite this arrangement, Jaehyun knows he would be the biggest asshole ever if he didn’t act as at least a friend to you. He has massive emotional walls that he keeps fortified, but there’s no harm in checking in with you. Besides, stress relief is a cornerstone of your relationship, and if his cock couldn’t dristract you from the issues in your life right now, maybe being an avid listener can. 

“What class?” he enquires.

“Fucking physics,” you groan, falling back against your bed and covering your face with a pillow.

There’s a reason Jaehyun had chosen Marine Biology instead of a more mathematics-based science when he got to university. Hell, the intro to physics class in first year had nearly killed him, so he understands where you’re coming from. 

“Well…” Jaehyun swallows thickly. “My frat is doing the whole ‘No Nut November’ bullshit, and we both know I don’t like to lose… but just because I can’t fuck you to destress you, doesn’t mean I can’t eat you out and make you cum as a reward for doing well in classes.”

“Huh?”

Jaehyun laughs, shaking his head. “I mean, what if we make a deal? For every ‘A’ you get on these three tests in November, I’ll eat you out till you’re begging me to stop. And in December, if you pass your physics final with a grade above eighty-six percent, I’ll fuck your brains out.”

You stare at him, the cogs of your mind working clearly behind your inquisitive eyes. “What if we agree on an above eighty average instead of eighty-six?”

“Nah, has to be eighty-six, what kind of floozy do you think I am?” Jaehyun jokes.

“Uh… the kind that just dicked me down without me needing an eighty-six average?”

Two:

It’s November, and while the idea of using Jaehyun as encouragement to study had seemed like a good plan to begin with, you find yourself distracted by the notion of him. Numbers and calculations give way to thoughts about the frat boy studying marine biology, and after struggling with it for an hour, you give yourself a breather to unpack everything.

You and Jaehyun have had an on-again off-again fuck buddy relationship for a little over a year now, and in that period, you’ve fucked only a handful times. With Jaehyun, things are strictly business. There’s not much foreplay, not much chit-chatting- it’s entirely about you both getting your rocks off as stress relief, then going your separate ways.

There’s a part of you that’s always thought extensive foreplay is less of a fuck buddy type of deal, and more of a budding relationship experience, which is why it’s generally been off-limits.

Having a man’s dick in you is one thing, having his mouth on your pussy while he’s neglected, looking up at you and doing his best to make you cum without any pleasure for himself- well, that’s something else entirely.

Neither you nor Jaehyun like to be selfish in this arrangement you have, it’s always a mutually beneficial interaction.

But… if you let him eat you out for doing well in physics… if he doesn’t get to cum or be touched at all… then that’s you being selfish, and the flip side is, he’s being selfless with you. 

Selfless has never been a word you connect to the idea of fuck buddies- and sure, some men love eating out women, some men get super turned on from that, but… you worry you’ll just be blue-ballsing the poor man. 

You never want to blue-ball Jaehyun. Despite your relationship being surface level - except for when he’s buried in your guts - you care about him. And you think it’s this care that has made you put up walls.

You’d agreed when you’d met that neither of you wanted a relationship. You wanted easy sex when it was convenient to you both. No strings attached, no emotions, no foreplay- although, that last caveat was never something verbally agreed to or discussed, moreso of an offshoot of the entire arrangement. 

In an odd way, letting Jaehyun eat you out while he gets nothing in return will be a new stepping stone for your dynamic, and you’re not quite sure where the path it creates might lead. 

Three:

You open your door with a grin, holding your most recent test in your hand. Before you can even tell Jaehyun the good news about your eighty-six percent - on the dot, mind you - score, he’s grabbing you and pressing his lips to yours.

A laugh tumbles out of you as you drag him into your apartment, kissing him back eagerly while the door shuts.

He feels so good, and your body immediately reacts to him, your nipples pushing up against the fabric of your thin night shirt. Jaehyun notices, because his hand comes up to cup your breast, his thumb brushing against the bud and making you moan.

When his lips move to your throat, you take the opportunity to speak. “You don’t even know what score I got on my test.”

“You wouldn’t have called me over if you didn’t get an eighty-six or above,” he notes, breath hot against your neck as he licks at your sweet spot.

“What if I brought you here to beg, to plead for that eighty average to be acceptable?” you tease.

“Begging is really not your style,” he insists, his hands moving down to your sleeping shorts to roughly tug them down.

“Looks like I won’t have to beg for this, though.”

“A deal is a deal,” Jaehyun tells you in the most earnest tone, and it makes you giggle.

“Let’s go to my bedroom.”

“No, I’m eating you out here.”

A moment later, he’s lifting you, setting you onto your kitchen island. The cold surface feels good against your hot skin, and it’s hard to breathe properly as Jaehyun pushes your thighs open.

“Lay down,” he instructs, “and let me give you your reward.”

Four:

“So… This time, I got a ninety,” you tell Jaehyun, holding your phone close to your chest so he can hear you clearly as you meander around your apartment.

“Well, look at you go.”

You can hear the smile in his voice, and it has your body tingling with excitement. “When can you come over?”

“Just finishing up a few things,” Jaehyun explains. “How about nineish?”

“But that’s a whole four hours away!” you groan.

“Somebody is eager.” 

You swallow the lump in your throat. “I was sitting in class and taking the test and all I could think about was your mouth.”

“Yeah?”

“Was getting so wet while doing fucking physics calculations- thinking about your tongue, and the way you hold me down when I cum. You’re a guy who just knows how to eat it, and it’s kind of making me go crazy.”

“Did I mention I’m at the gym right now?” Jaehyun asks, releasing a choked cough.

You grin, moving to sit on your couch. “Gonna sport a stiffy while doing bench presses, Jae?” 

“Pretty close to that, yeah.”

“All I’m saying is- you could be a great tutor, if you gave out sexual favours to all the cute girls who need help.”

Jaehyun laughs. “I feel like that would put me on a career trajectory that has nothing to do with marine biology, and I’m not spending all this money every year just to not use my degree.”

“True, true,” you sigh. “Anyways, I guess I’ll be waiting to see you at nineish.”

“Try not to touch yourself before I get there,” Jaehyun warns. “Or it defeats the purpose.” 

Five:

You’d been shocked to discover upon receiving your third test back, that you had somehow managed to score the highest in the entire class. And now, you’re even more shocked to find that Jaehyun has a few cunnilingus tricks up his sleeve that he hadn’t shown you in your first two strictly oral encounters.

His face is buried between your thighs, his lips wrapped around your clit while his fingers are pumping into your wet core. He angles his digits upward, crooking them in a way that has your whole body tingling-

He’d told you he wanted to make you squirt, you know, as a real celebration after your high marks, and at first, you hadn’t quite believed it would happen.

You’ve never squirted, and no man has ever taken the time to work that sort of thing out of you-

Yet here you are, feeling the first few dribbles splooshing out of your core and onto Jaehyun’s fingers.

It’s an intense pressure, but a completely welcomed one, and it makes your entire body tense with pleasure as he continued to finger fuck wetness out of you, his mouth never leaving your clit.

The sounds you’re making are obscene, but you can’t help yourself, can’t bring yourself to care about noise complaints or people hearing you-

You deserve this after scoring so well on your physics test, and you’ll be damned if you tell Jaehyun to stop or slow down.

“Fuck,” Jaehyun groans, pulling away from your clit to look down at you. “That’s it, baby, let it out.”

God, his dirty talk? It’s gotten better- or maybe you were both just not very verbal before, maybe when things were strictly business you were both holding back a lot of talents in the sexual scheme of things.

You release a whimper, more squirt gushing out of you and onto his hand.

“You look so fucking hot like this,” Jaehyun tells you, his mouth returning to your clit.

The past few times, losing yourself to him eating you out had been easy- but this time, you’re aware that finals are looming on the horizon. You’re not going to see Jaehyun for a couple of weeks, and after pleasure like this, you’re not sure you have the patience to wait that long.

You’re also keenly aware that this will be the third time Jaehyun leaves your house with blue-balls, and while he doesn’t make a big deal about it, you still feel bad.

This whole thing has definitely gotten more complicated, and you have the sneaking suspicion that when finals are over, and you finally get to fuck- they’re going to get a whole lot more confusing.

Six:

Jaehyun is about four hours into studying for his marine biology final when your ringtone sounds through his room.

He releases a groan, because sure, you’re a welcome distraction- but the mere thought of you is enough to give him a half chub and about two hours of distracted thoughts.

“Hey,” he sighs, answering his phone and putting it on speaker next to his text book.

“Hey,” you respond. “Studying?”

“Yup, you?”

“Trying to study,” you release a deep breath. “So… No Nut November has been over for a couple of days, how are you feeling?”

Jaehyun groans, putting his head in his hands. “Like I’m about to bust.”

“So come over?”

Jaehyun’s gaze turns to his phone. The temptation is overwhelming- and he can almost imagine how good your wet pussy is going to feel around his cock- how big his load is going to be when he buries it deep inside of you-

“We both know I can’t do that,” he sighs.

“Why not?”

“I told you, I’m not a floozy.” Jaehyun can’t help the chuckle that escapes him at his own words. He kind of enjoys this whole teasing game of not being the guy who puts out unless you do well on tests. He also kind of enjoys it when you release an irritated sigh.

“Be serious,” you insist.

“In all seriousness,” Jaehyun says. “We both know we can’t see each other until after our finals in three days.”

“But three days is so long away! That’s like seventy-two hours from now!” 

“You’re not going to be awake for all seventy-two of those hours though,” Jaehyun grins.

A grumble escapes you. “You know what I mean.”

Jaehyun can feel his cock beginning to rise in his pants, and he knows he has to cut this call short-

“Well, if you’re not going to come be my stress relief, maybe I’ll have to do it myself,” you tell him.

“Huh?”

“I’m rubbing my clit right now, and you wouldn’t believe how fucking wet I am for you. Been thinking about you for hours.”

“Fuck,” Jaehyun groans.

“It would be an awful shame if you didn’t come and fuck me stupid.” 

“I’ve got to go,” the marine biology major says, and it takes every ounce of his determination for the words to leave his lips.

“For a frat boy, you can be such a prude, Jaehyun.”

“I’m just focusing on something we both agreed a year ago. We both said school comes first. We both said grades above sex, and I’m just keeping us both in line with that intention.”

“I’ll try not to be too upset about this, because you’re right, and I hate that you’re right,” you sigh. “Good luck studying, I’ll see you in seventy-two hours.”

You hang up, and Jaehyun lets out a breath he hadn’t even known he’d been holding.

He looks down at his rock hard cock, which is pressing up against the fabric of his sweat pants, and with one last surge of determination, he goes back to his text book. 

Seven:

You finished your final two hours ago, and you’re now just laying on your couch. Your mind is pretty much blank, your body exhausted- and that’s when there’s a knock on your door.

You release a groan, forcing yourself to your feet.

While you know you’re going to see Jaehyun sometime soon, you definitely don’t expect him to be on your doorstep, and you’re at a loss for words as you stare at him.

“How bad was your final, baby, you’ve got a whole ‘thousand yard stare’ going on,” Jaehyun grins.

“You’re here,” you force out, so shocked that you still don’t know what to say.

“I’m here, and even though your final is done, it looks like you need stress relief.”

A tingle rushes through you, and you nod eagerly, pushing your door open wider so he can enter your apartment.

“How- how was your final?” you ask.

“Wasn’t so bad,” he shrugs, “And don’t get me wrong, I’m not saying marine biology is easy, but it’s not physics.” 

“Jae?”

“Uh huh?”

“I’m so exhausted.” The words come out of your mouth and you break a little, your shoulders slumping. “I won’t have results for a couple of weeks and I don’t know if I did well, and I know you have this whole, ‘I’m not a floozy’ running joke thing-”

“Baby, I’m here to fuck you, don’t worry about getting an eighty-six percent, I’m taking care of you right now even if you failed. Do you think you failed?”

“I don’t think so-”

“And you were highest in your whole class on the last test, so let out a breath, shake off the anxiety, and for the first time in two months, let’s just enjoy fucking, okay?”

“Okay.”

You let Jaehyun grab your hand and he leads you to your bedroom. Once there, he begins to kiss you. He cradles you against his chest, and it’s the most passionate lip lock you’ve ever shared with the marine biology major.

His hands stroke your body, and it’s not some quick tearing off of clothes- no, this time, it’s clear he wants to go slow. 

You stroke his muscles, massaging his shoulders through the heavy fabric of his hoodie. The motion makes Jaehyun groan, and he removes the layer, tossing it onto the floor before wrapping you in his arms again.

One of his hands moves to cup your cheek, and he slowly guides you to your bed. He lays you down before getting on top of you. Your thighs wrap around his hips, and you groan at the first amount of pressure on your sleeping short covered core.

The kiss deepens, but it’s not the kind of erratic and eager lip lock, it’s calculated, passionate, and in a way- loving.

Jaehyun cares about you, of that, you are certain. He cares enough to make this experience an act of worship, of self care, to balance out the absolute shit show that was your physics final, and you really appreciate the attention to detail that he’s putting into this.

His hand slips under your shirt, toying with your breast.

You’d been planning on having a nap, so you’re only wearing a shirt and shorts, no underwear or bra, and the sensation of his fingers playing with your nipple is the most relief you’ve had in a week.

You whimper, breaking the kiss to wiggle under him, hoping for more pressure on your pussy.

Jaehyun’s lips move to your throat. “Proud of you,” he whispers. “I’m sure you did well today.”

You don’t even know what to say, all you can do is moan in response, your brain too fried from your exam to think of words.

“Gonna get you naked,” Jaehyun tells you next. “You good with that?”

“Yes, please.”

Jaehyun pulls away, adjusting so he can slip your shorts off. You work on your shirt, and in moments, you’re naked for him. Then, Jaehyun begins to strip, joining you in nudity before getting onto the bed again.

His lips find yours, and his hand slips between your thighs. His fingers tease your clit, making you whimper against his lips.

If this was Jaehyun from three months ago, his cock would already be inside of you, and you’re reminded again that a November full of foreplay has changed your relationship. He’s more caring with you now, and you kind of love it, especially after the day you’ve had.

His digits slip into your pussy, working you open, and his palm continues to put the right amount of pressure on your clit.

His mouth moves to your throat, giving you space to moan and fill the room with sounds of pleasure.

He begins to do the motion he did when he made you squirt, and soon, that pressure in your abdomen is reaching a breaking point. You can feel the small gush as it wets your inner thighs, pleasure consuming you with the release.

Jaehyun descends to your breasts, sucking on your nipple gently before continuing to kiss down- he gets all the way to your pussy, and he pulls out his fingers in favour of licking your slit.

You whimper desperately as he takes position between your thighs, hands massaging the muscles there and keeping you pinned as he eats you out.

When you look down, you notice his eyes are closed. He’s fully immersed in the act of pleasuring you, and it makes everything feel better.

You give in to the sensation, mind going blank, body going numb except for the feeling of intense pressure that’s beginning to build in the pit of your stomach.

His lips suction around your clit, tongue flicking the sensitive bud, and your own hips begin to wiggle. You’re grinding down against his face, breathing hard as your orgasm becomes closer and closer-

There’s a difference between squirting and a clit orgasm, and while squirting had felt really good, this is about to feel even better.

You try not to put pressure on yourself, and that’s something you’ve learned this past month with Jaehyun.

He could stay between your thighs for half an hour and not get upset that you haven’t cum yet- however, you know it won’t take that long.

You give in to the feelings in your body, focusing on the pleasure as it builds and builds-

“Jae,” you whimper. “I’m close!”

He growls against your clit, sucking even harder, and that’s when you explode.

You release a gasp, the tension in your abdomen snapping as your clit begins to throb, sending delicious pleasure surging through your entire form.

Your thighs threaten to close around Jaehyun’s head but he holds you steady, working you through your orgasm.

The feeling of his tongue on your core isn’t one you ever want to give up, and Jaehyun’s the type of man who doesn’t like to lose- no, he continues to eat you out until you’re finished, until you’re pushing at his head, begging for his cock.

“Please, Jae,” you whimper. “I need you so bad.”

“I need you too, baby,” he nods, swallowing thickly as he adjusts on the bed, getting between your thighs again.

He looks down at you as he positions the head of his cock against your pussy. 

There’s a wordless agreement between the two of you as you stare into each other’s eyes, and Jaehyun slowly pushes into you.

You gasp loudly at the stretch, grabbing at his shoulders to steady yourself.

Nothing but fingers have been inside of you for a month, and the stretch is perfect as Jaehyun’s large cock fills up your core.

“Good?” Jaehyun asks with a grin.

“So good!”

His lips find your throat, and he sucks on your sweet spot, making you grip his shoulders even tighter.

Nothing has ever felt this intimate. You’re clinging to Jaehyun like a life line, your hearts trying to push through your pressed ribcages to meet, as if they were always meant to be one.

There are a thousand emotions bubbling up inside of you, but none of them can be vocalized, all you can do is pant in his ear as he lavishes on you, taking away all your stress. 

He begins to fuck you, starting slow as your body adjusts. You can hear him groaning as he licks your sweet spot, the muscles of his shoulders tensing with effort as he holds himself over you.

You get the sneaking suspicion that he’s very much holding back- that this slow build up is torture for the man who hasn’t gotten his cock wet in over a month.

“Let go, Jae,” you whisper, stroking his hair. “Fuck me stupid, you promised you would.”

Jaehyun releases a groan, pulling away from your throat to look down at you. “After all of this, we need to talk.”

“Huh?” your heart sinks in your chest.

“It’s nothing bad,” he’s quick to assure you, obviously having read your scared expression. “Just, fuck- look, I’ve been thinking- this month has proven we can get good marks and also be fucking, be more than fucking- and I just- I was thinking maybe we could try actually dating, if you wanted.” 

“Jae-” your voice cracks.

“You don’t have to answer now-”

“Let’s do it,” you nod. “I want to try that with you.”

“Thank god.” You can practically see the relief in the way he exhales, and then he presses his lips to yours, beginning to fuck you even harder.

You wrap your arms tight around his shoulders, kissing him deeply as he rails you. Your whole bed is shaking with each powerful thrust, and the pleasure of his cock inside of you mixes with the emotional ecstasy that had been triggered by the notion of dating.

You seriously feel like you’re on cloud nine, and it’s such a massive contrast to how you’d felt even an hour ago.

This man can change your entire mood, and you kind of love that. All your stress has melted away, because of his targeted effort to lift you back onto your feet after such a devastating final exam. 

He cares about you, you can feel it in the way his hips move, the way his lips caress your own. You can even hear it in his deep groans, all his inhibitions going out the window as he gives himself to you completely.

There’s also something to be said about fucking missionary.

When you’d first had sex, you’d done it doggy, not wanting to be staring at each other, not wanting to feel too emotionally connected as you looked into each other’s eyes-

So much has changed in the best possible way, the two of you pressed chest to chest, pressed so tight it’s as if you want to consume each other.

You’re connected, like puzzle pieces, and each thrust has Jaehyun hitting a spot deep inside of you that makes you feel so completely whole.

You’re both gasping into your kisses now, the tension rising by the second-

“Fuck, I haven’t cum in so long-” Jaehyun groans, breaking the kiss to press his forehead against yours.

“Then fill me up, Jae,” you whimper, stroking his hair and strong shoulders. “Give me all of it.”

“Fuck.”  

“I want this,” you tell him. “I want you so bad.”

He lets out a shuddery breath, and then he kisses you, grunting deeply- the last three thrusts are powerful yet erratic, and his entire body shivers as he falls over the edge. You can feel him filling you up, shooting rope upon rope of cum deep into your core.

Your legs wrap tightly around his hips, keeping him buried to the hilt inside of you, and you press kisses along his face, stroking his hair.

His orgasm lasts five or so seconds, and you can tell from the tension in his muscles that it’s an intense one. He all but slumps over you when he finishes, breathing hard against your skin as he buries his face by your throat.

“Fuck.”

“You can say that again,” you laugh. 

Usually, when Jaehyun and you finish up having sex, he immediately goes home and you go to shower, but today, you hold him close, keeping him wrapped in your embrace.

Neither of you say anything as you wait for your hearts to slow down, and you continue to press little kisses along his skin.

“How about we shower then cuddle and watch a movie?” you ask.

“Baby,” Jaehyun releases a small chuckle, “I would love that more than anything.”

☀️ mlist + an. thank you for reading!

🍭 support me by. sending a tip here or here - or become a patron to access monthly bonus content and extensions for fics like this one :) find the Patreon teaser below! 

🔮 preview. “This is how you inspired me to study when we first started dating,” you point out. “Encourage yourself with pussy. Get some good sucking now, fuck me stupid, and then, use that as fuel to get your studying done.”

cw/ tw. Unprotected sex, oral, blow job, hand job, masturbation, use of toy/vibrator, multiple reader orgasms, sucking Jae off while he studies, multiple sex positions, dirty talk, praise, rough sex,  etc…   I petnames. (hers) baby.

👹 rating. 18+ explicit I wc. 2.5k I teaser wc. 110

🌙 starring. Jaehyun x afab!Reader

bonus

You can tell that Jaehyun is struggling. His end of the year final is coming up, and he’s as anxious as you’ve ever seen him. 

You’ve done your best to support him with studying, but after everything you’ve learned at the start of your relationship last year, you think you might just know the best way to help him focus.

“Jae?” you call, looking at your boyfriend as he studies at the table by your bed. “How’s it coming along?”

He releases a deep sigh. “Not great.”

You approach him, resting against the table. “Anything I can do to help?”

“Probably not,” he groans.

“Are you sure about that?”

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[abbotsanatomy]

(Desperately) begging for a fic where reader is experiencing Whitaker-levels of a bad day including a stubborn argument with Jack and she just crashes out on the rooftop and he’s just like comforting her 🙏

⨳ REALLY VERY BAD DAY

pairing: jack abbot x chief resident!reader warnings: gross fluids (blood, vomit, etc.), minor injury, severe second hand embarrassment, injections, suicidal ideation, but not rlly. this isn't beta'd. author's note: this man is canonically sooo bad at comfort, so this gets a lil silly!

Your entire shift is exactly 12 hours. Somehow, you managed to have six different catastrophes happen to you in that limited time. That's an average of one every two hours. The odds have got to be completely stacked against you.

You should've known, when the first hour of your shift ended with a kid, who'd come in with a stomachache, throwing up all over your scrubs. It happens all the time, so you weren't too pessimistic about how the rest of the night would go by that point.

Little did you know, that was a sign from the universe. You should've taken it and clocked out instead of using your first scrub credit of the night.

By 11:00, you were slowly losing your optimism. You'd been taking out a patient's IV cannula when you apparently pricked yourself through your gloves. You only realized much later, when the antiseptic sanitizer you were using stung a little too much.

The moment you noticed, you checked the patient's medical record for any blood-borne diseases that might spread to you. And lo and behold, he had HBV.

You found Jack at the nurse's station, picking up some labs for a patient.

“I'm gonna need you to give me an HBV PEP injection. Please,” you'd whispered, as close to him as possible.

“Why would you need that?” he asked casually.

“I have a needle-stick injury.”

He looked over at you, finally. There's a silent disappointment in his eyes. Jack's one of the most composed people you know, but you also know he's a worrier. He won't let it show now, but he'll definitely be all over you the moment you're both back home.

The night shift's charge nurse walked into the station you're both standing at. She let Jack know his patient needed emergency surgery, and would be admitted to general surgery in a few minutes. When he told her he'd be right there, he turned to you again.

“You can't give it to yourself?” you know he isn't asking out of reluctance to do it, just curiosity.

“I need... some comfort.”

It wasn't a complete lie. The night'd already been getting difficult. You just wanted his hands on you for a minute. It'd make you feel better. You're afraid you haven't gotten to that point in the relationship where you could admit all of that out loud, though. But he seems to have gotten it.

“Alright. Go wait in there,” he pointed to a curtained corner of the ER, and then turned to walk away.

The words made you almost kiss him on the mouth. Instead, you walked to sit on the recliner and prepared the shot.

It took three minutes of waiting, before he's walked in and pulled the curtain half closed behind him. You swung your legs, staring down at your feet the entire time he's prepping to get this done.

“You have to be more careful,” he whispered, uncovering the syringe.

His voice was a little tense. You know he doesn't like reprimanding you. It puts you both in an awkward situation, but as your superior, he has to do it. You appreciate the criticism, but Jack happens to think it adds an uncomfortable impersonality to your relationship.

You could only offer a nod back. He let you hold onto his arm the whole time. You pulled his hand onto yours, as he used a plaster to cover the injection site. He pressed a kiss right above it before covering your arm with your sleeve again. The whole affair only took about five minutes, but it was the best part of your night.

When he was done, Jack stepped in front of you, his hand still holding onto yours. He leaned in, the proximity meaning you couldn't possibly look anywhere but his eyes.

“You'll be more careful?” he asked. He wanted you to repeat it.

“Yeah, I'll take care,” you affirmed. There was a thinly veiled promise in the affirmation. You were telling him you won't make any more of these mistakes that are completely beneath you. It was more for his peace of mind than anything else.

He pulled your conjoined hands up to his lips, lowering his lips to the back of yours.

The dull pain in your shoulder from the injection made it infinitely harder to hold your patient's jugular closed with your fingers.

It isn't very common for a patient to come in with a knife to his throat. Needless to say, you've never had to pull a carving knife out of someone's jugular, and then use your fingers to keep it closed.

The blood everywhere is a given, considering the severity of the injury, but the crimson droplets streaking your face and scrub top are all thanks to your unsteady grip.

You were hyperaware of the fact that this guy had been dead. He was dead long before he came into the ER. He'd only still been alive on a technicality. One that was long gone by this point.

He'd lost too much blood on the way to the PTMC, and there's no amount of available blood bags that could replenish it all. You couldn't stop holding onto him, though. Not when the steady stream stopped. Not when his pulse faded into nothing.

Not until Jack slipped behind you and pulled your hands away with a firm grip. He'd whispered meaningless encouragements into your ear, telling you to go take a minute for yourself. He might've offered to help, but you were too out of it to remember exactly what was said.

You were barely there the whole time. Washing the blood out of your hair, and changing your scrubs in the ER bathroom. It all didn't feel real. It took you a good hour to get back to normal. As normal as ‘normal’ gets after whatever the fuck that was.

You were glad when tripped over some spilt saline fluid and fell face-first on the ER's cold floor. Your chin was busted, but you actually felt something. It'd been hours of walking around stitching wounds up, looking over x-rays and blood work results, and feeling like a ghost who floats around the floor with no purpose.

Thankfully, when you looked in the mirror, it appeared like there were no broken bones. Just a scratch on your forehead, and a bleeding chin. No one wants a doctor who looks like they just got beat up, so your number one priority was disinfecting your mess of a face and covering up all of the nastiness.

When you reached for some normal, adult plaster, though, it was all gone. The storage locker wouldn't be open for another few hours, either. You let out the biggest sigh known to mankind when you spotted the children's bandaids.

Looking back into the mirror, you saw how ridiculous it looked to have farm animals plastered on your forehead, and a family of brightly colored elephants on your chin.

You couldn't seem to find it in yourself to care. You do almost snap at Chen when he tries to crack a joke at your expense, though.

The lock on the blood bank refrigerator had been broken for months.

You keep filing complaint after complaint, for the higher-ups to send someone to fix it. You and everyone in the department, in fact. But to no avail. It took you five minutes longer than it should to finally grab a fresh bag of donated blood out of the shelf.

So, you rushed back to Ellis. It's stupid, considering you'd just fell an hour ago. The patient's more important than logic.

The moment you crashed into an intern standing in the middle of the ER played in slow motion. You watched the bag drop to the floor, saw the plastic snap, felt the blood seep into your black work sneakers.

The ‘O-’ label on the bag stared back up at you, as you stood there in shock for a moment. Every muscle in your body started aching. It was suddenly painful to even breathe. You were barely holding yourself together, and this relatively small inconvenience was your very last straw.

“Fuck,” you whispered, not even registering the intern's profuse apologies, aimed at you.

You let out one long sigh, and your shoulders started shaking. Your chin came into contact with your chest, as you felt something painful stir within you. The feeling of helpless disappointment had been gnawing at you for hours. Now, it engulfed you completely. You'd had no idea how long you stood there, your eyes screwed tight, as the rest of the ER kept buzzing around you.

Familiar hands gripping your shoulders and pulling you away is the first thing you felt. Looking down at your feet as they lead you wherever you were being guided was a fatal mistake. You saw the bloodied shoe prints you left behind and felt even worse, if that was possible. So, you let your eyes flutter shut again.

When you were finally sat down on the edge somewhere, your face felt undeniably cold. That's when you realized you'd been shedding tears the entire time. The familiar feeling of embarrassment that bubbled up in your throat when you were vulnerable around big groups of people never arrived. Just a steady numbness.

The heavy breeze on the PTMC's roof made the salty tears on your face feel like tiny pinpricks of despair. You hoped it could also make you fly very far away from this building, never to return again. Alas, not all dreams come true.

“I did so, so badly today,” you confessed, your voice sounding thick and foreign to your own ears.

Jack frowned at you, his eyes scanning your entire face. You noticed his frown deepen almost imperceptibly when he landed on the bandaids covering your face. You were sure he'd make fun of them if today hadn't gone so badly.

He looked like he was calculating his next words very carefully, “That's alright. We have tomorrow. And the day after that. And the day after that.”

Oh boy, that wasn't making you feel any better. In fact, it might've made you want to jump off of the very same roof you sat on right now. You stared off into the distance, calculating the height of the jump.

Apparently, Jack didn't get the memo.

“You'll always have chances to do better. You're still young. The worst day of your life can never define your entire being,” he rambled on. It was starting to seem like he was just trying to find it along the way.

Your eyes screwed shut in an attempt to tune your very sweet, but very misguided, boyfriend out. When it didn't work, you resorted to just blurting out the words on your mind.

Unfortunately, it had come out meaner than intended, “Shut up. Just stop talking, please.”

Jack was just about to talk again when you interrupted him with a plea, “I'll pay you.”

His eyes were sad. You knew he was trying, it just wasn't what you needed at all. You swung your legs, trying to play off the shame you felt at the way you spoke to him earlier. You couldn't apologize just yet though, lest he go on another tangent.

His voice was raw, but not hurt, “Do you need me to leave?”

You shook your head frantically. Just the thought of it hurt your brain.

“No. No. Just stay right here,” you whispered, and pulled his arm close.

You let your head fall onto his shoulder, the scent of his drug-store shampoo filling your nose. It worked wonders for your nerves.

“Just no more talking, please,” you begged, voice growing heavy with exhaustion.

Jack laughed. In that moment, it was like hearing the angels sing. You could listen to the sound for hours.

You could feel him nod against your head, and then press his lips into your hair.

“Alright, honey. Whatever you need.”

You were fully hugging his arm, now. Shamelessly letting yourself snuggle against his body heat. You knew you had to go downstairs and clock out to get home.

But right here, with the first rays of dawn slowly making their way onto your face, and Jack's free hand coming up to stroke your hair, it felt like you were already home.

A thousand horrible motivational speeches couldn't change that.

[gloomwitchwrites]

How about 141 taking care of reader who has painful cramps/ periods👁️👁️

Get this: within about six hours of me posting the first of these double drabbles to ao3, I started my period. Clearly, it was meant to be. All of these are fluffy and sweet, but Soap's a little...flirty. I had a lot of fun with this one! Thanks for sending it in!!!!

For the masterlist and how to submit your own request, click HERE

Presented in four double drabbles.

Task Force 141 x Female Reader

Content & Warnings (per the warnings MDNI): fluff, brief suggestive themes, flirting, forehead kisses, all comfort no hurt

Word Count: 800

ao3 // main masterlist // imagines & what if masterlist

John Price

“You need to eat something.”

“I’d rather not,” you mutter, turning your face into the pillow beneath your head.

John places his hands on his hips. He’s not annoyed with you, but you can tell from his facial expression that he’s unhappy with your answer.

“I know your stomach hurts, love,” he says sympathetically. “I know you’re in pain.”

“Do you?” you counter, wanting to be stubborn just for the sake of it.

“But you’re losing iron. And you haven’t eaten,” he checks his watch, “in almost twenty-four hours.”

You scoff. “Keeping tabs on me?”

“Always,” he replies.

It’s not a lie. John almost knows your habits and routine better than you do. He’s the one constantly reminding you about one thing or another.

“Bleeding from your vagina will do that,” you reply sarcastically.

John’s response is a deep sigh. It almost—almost—makes you laugh.

With a groan, John goes down on one knee, bringing himself to your level. “Dove,” he murmurs.

“Don’t,” you warn. John never calls you “dove” unless he’s about to tell you to do something.

“You can stay here. On the sofa. But you’re going to eat.”

“Am I?”

“You need to fuel that body.”

Simon "Ghost" Riley

“That can’t be comfortable, love.” Simon’s voice is gruff, but laced with tenderness.

You’re face down on the living room floor, curled up in a fetal position. With both fists clenched, you press them sharply into your abdomen. It’s dulling the pain a bit.

“I’m perfectly fine on the floor,” you mutter, voice muffled by the carpet.

Simon sighs. You aren’t sure what he’s doing until you see movement in your peripheral. Simon gets down on your level. He’s flat on his stomach, arms crossed with chin resting on top.

“You mind if I join you down here?” he asks.

“No,” you reply, turning your head to look at him.

"How is this not hurting your back?"

“It does. But the cramps are worse.”

He starts rattling off options. “Ice pack? The heating pad? Tylenol? A shot of vodka? Your favorite takeaway?”

“All of the above,” you answer with a deep sigh.

“Aces,” groans Simon, rolling onto his side.

Simon disappears. Returning, he places a chilled bottle of vodka with a shot glass next to your head along with extra strength pain relievers, an ice pack, the heating pad, and a glass of water.

“Takeaway will be here in thirty.”

John "Soap" MacTavish

“You want cuddles?”

“No.”

“Kisses?”

“I’m fine.”

Johnny scoots a little closer on the bed. He lays on his side, one hand propping up his head as he stares down at you. You are on your back in sweatpants and an oversized hoodie. The hood is up, strings pulled taut. Even with pain relievers, the ache continues.

“I read somewhere on the internet—”

“Johnny,” you warn.

“—having an orgasm or two can help.”

“Oh my God,” you mutter, closing your eyes, breathing through your nose.

He shrugs. “Don’t mind a bit of blood.” You side-eye him but Johnny continues to talk.

“Not on my face.” He gives you his best smile. “Or my dick.”

“If you touch me, I might punch you,” you deadpan.

Johnny nods slowly and then flops onto his back. “I’ll bring you the heating pad.”

“That would be great,” you murmur, staring up at the ceiling.

The two of you stay like that for a few minutes, simply lingering in the silence. You try to focus your breathing, to inhale through your nose and exhale through your mouth. It’s almost relaxing.

“So,” begins Johnny. “You want that orgasm?”

“Please shut up.”

“Heard.”

Kyle "Gaz" Garrick

You are cocooned in soft blankets, wrapped up like an overstuffed Chipotle burrito. Everything hurts from your abdomen to your lower back. The pain and discomfort radiate outward. Your head throbs.

A pair of legs step into your line of sight. You glance upward and find Kyle. He stares down at you a moment before slowly sinking to the floor, taking a seat next to the couch.

“Brought you a hot water bottle,” he murmurs, presenting it. You open the blanket just enough for him to slide it in. “I’ve got the kettle on. I’ll bring you a cuppa once it’s done.”

“Thank you,” you reply, voice a little scratchy.

Kyle places a plastic bag in his lap and opens it up. “Bought you some of your favorites.” Reaching in, Kyle takes snack after snack out, lining them up on the coffee table. “I also picked up some pain medicine. Not sure which you prefer so I got one of each.”

Balling up the bag, Kyle rests his chin on the edge of the sofa. “Love you,” he whispers.

“Love you, too,” you say, just as softly.

Kyle lightly kisses your forehead. “I’ll come check on you in a few.”

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[philodendronleaves]

Allamanda plant

The Allamanda plant is an evergreen perennial flowering plant that belongs to the family Apocynaceae. They are indigenous to America. Some varieties of allamanda yields colorful flowers. Many varieties of allamanda produce yellow flowers and few varieties of allamanda produce pink flowers. Allamanda plant usually grows up to 20 feet. Allamanda plants are classified based on their stem position such as creeper, climbers, and shrubs. It is used for traditional medicines to treat jaundice, malaria, and liver tumors.

Allamanda varieties

Majorly two varieties of Allamanda are throughout the world.

Allamanda cathartica:

Allamanda cathartica is has another name called a golden trumpet. This variety produces dark yellow flowers. And this plant grows up to 15 feet tall.

How to grow allamanda plant

Allamanda shrub and allamanda creeper both are propagated through stem cuttings. Initially choose a healthy matured mother plant and cut below the leaf node. While transplanting remove all the leaves from the bottom portion of the stem and leave two couple of leaves at the apical portion and place them in a pot. After 3-5 weeks roots start to generate.

Soil

Allamanda survives in sandy loam soil. Excess water logging is not good for allamanda creepers. So, the PH range of soil should remain between 6.0 to 7.0. Induce the soil with organic matters like cow manure, and goat manure which provides additional nutrients to the plant. And mulching above the soil to maintain its moisture level.

Flower

Allamanda creepers produce funnel-shaped flowers with five overlapped petals that spread outwards. There are a few varieties such as allamanda cream, allamanda chocolate, and allamanda Indonesia sunset. And popular varieties of allamanda flowers are allamanda cathartica and allamanda blanchetti.

Fertilizers

Give NPK fertilizer at proper ratio in the gap of 2-4 weeks. fertilizer is given at the base of the plants.

Pruning

Early spring is better for pruning just before new growth begins. To maintain overall health and appearance pruning is an essential thing that removes all diseased, dead, and damaged branches.

Usually, allamanda grows vigorously so, prune it according to your desired size.

Repotting

Repot the allamanda before its active growth begins. Choose a well-drained potting mix that is suitable for allamanda. After repotting water thoroughly until the water drains. The repotted allamanda placement done in indirect sunlight. Because direct sunlight can affect plant growth. So, inspect the plant's signs regularly.

[philoldendronindoor]

Allamanda plant

The Allamanda plant is an evergreen perennial flowering plant that belongs to the family Apocynaceae. They are indigenous to America. Some varieties of allamanda yields colorful flowers. Many varieties of allamanda produce yellow flowers and few varieties of allamanda produce pink flowers. Allamanda plant usually grows up to 20 feet. Allamanda plants are classified based on their stem position such as creeper, climbers, and shrubs. It is used for traditional medicines to treat jaundice, malaria, and liver tumors.

Allamanda varieties

Majorly two varieties of Allamanda are throughout the world.

Allamanda cathartica:

Allamanda cathartica is has another name called a golden trumpet. This variety produces dark yellow flowers. And this plant grows up to 15 feet tall.

Allamanda blanchetti

Allamanda blanchetti is also known as purple allamanda. This variety produces a deep purple flower. And this plant grows up to 10 feet tall.

 

How to grow allamanda plant

Allamanda shrub and allamanda creeper both are propagated through stem cuttings. Initially choose a healthy matured mother plant and cut below the leaf node. While transplanting remove all the leaves from the bottom portion of the stem and leave two couple of leaves at the apical portion and place them in a pot. After 3-5 weeks roots start to generate

Soil

Allamanda survives in sandy loam soil. Excess water logging is not good for allamanda creepers. So, the PH range of soil should remain between 6.0 to 7.0. Induce the soil with organic matters like cow manure, and goat manure which provides additional nutrients to the plant. And mulching above the soil to maintain its moisture level.

Water

Allamanda creeper required a minimum amount of water to survive. At the same time, allamanda is intolerant to excessive water. Watering twice a week is enough for Allamanda.

Benefits of allamanda

Allamanda blanchetti are praised for colorful shades and trumpet shape.

Allamanda flower attracts pollinators which promotes a healthy ecosystem.

In traditional medicine, many parts of allamanda are used for various purposes. Allamanda is highly used to treat skin infections, fever, and certain stomach issues.

Allamanda flower possesses some anti-inflammatory properties which reduce inflammation.

Plants play a vital role in purifying the air, providing oxygen and it creates a healthier ecosystem.

Allamanda-flower plant

Choose green go wild

Blog created by: www.santhionlineplants.com

[silverspectre51]

Summoning the Boy King

Darkseid was rampaging through Metropolis, Superman was injured, and the Justice League was desperate. As the League hid between fallen skyscrapers, John Constantine prepared a last-ditch effort to save the Earth.

The Hellblazer drew an intricate sigil on the ground; its circular design stretching over six feet in diameter. Most of the symbols within were space-related, while the others were themed to royalty. Batman, one of the few heroes in-the-know, grunted.

"Are you sure this king ghost can help?"

Constantine sighed and pinched his nose.

"He's the High King of the Infinite Realms, Bats, an' he's bloody powerful. He'll stop Darkseid, alright, but what he does afterward is anyone's guess. Believe me, I wouldn't be doin' this if we had a choice."

Batman sighed and glanced at the smoke-filled horizon.

"Alright, get on with it, then. We're running out of time."

Constantine nodded and placed a single offering in the center of the sigil: a squishmallow of Disney's iconic blue alien, Stitch.

"I beg your finest pardon," Batman sputtered, "What on Earth is that?"

Constantine sighed again as he took his position at the edge of the sigil.

"Mate, the book was very specific. Unlike his predecessor, the new king requires a single offering of space or alien theme that is suitable for children. It's bloody strange, but beggars can't be choosers."

Batman just shook his head and looked on. Constantine raised his hands and started the summoning chant. An eerie, green glow spread across the sigil, and light fog gathered above it. Little white orbs floated up from the ground and spiraled together, forming the slowly spinning visage of a spiral galaxy.

"Incredible..." Zatanna gasped, "This summoning is on a level all its own. This king of yours is on the level of Gods."

Finally, something began to form over the small galaxy. Batman's expression quickly softened, much to the surprise of his teammates. It was mere seconds before they understood, as a black blob full of white stars formed into the shape of a boy. The blob had spiky 'bangs' if you could call them that and eerie, glowing green eyes.

The squishmallow floated into the boy's arms and he squeezed it excitedly. At the same time, he took on a far more human form, with pale skin and snowy white hair. His eyes had whites now but still glowed green. He was dressed in black and white, royal attire with green accents, a black crown floating in a green aurora, and a black ring with a green stone. A black cape flowed down his back, its underside looking as if it were cut from a clear night sky.

"Awesome offering, dude! What can I do for ya?"

The voice was a reedy tenor in the throes of puberty, and its owner was more than a little geeky. The boy's smile was infectious, or it would have been were it not for the specific circumstance.

"How old are you?" Batman asked, his tone soft, "We weren't expecting a child."

The boy waved him off like it was nothing.

"No one ever does. And, um... technically I'm fifteen. I know, I don't look it."

Constantine cut in, clearly out of patience.

"Look, this monster Darkseid is destroying our world. We need you to stop him."

The boy turned in the air and took in the destruction around him. Somehow, he seemed to understand the situation immediately.

"Okay, but I gotta get permission first. This'll take a lot of power." He paused, taking a breath, and then yelled in a strange language. "Mom!"

Constantine paled and the other heroes shrank back as a green portal tore into existence. A young woman, barely an adult herself, floated out. She had waist-length blue hair and the same glowing, green eyes. She wore a royal outfit in white and maroon, complete with a glittering, silver tiara studded with rubies.

"What's the matter, Danny? Are you okay?"

Danny nodded.

"Mhmm! These guys need me to take out this Darkseid guy, though. Can I use my full power?"

Constantine snuck a drink from his flask. He did not sign up to deal with the fucking Queen Mother of the Infinite Realms, nor had he known she existed. God, he needed a smoke...

The Queen Mother smiled softly and pressed a kiss to her son's forehead. She spoke whilst taking his new plush.

"Yes, Danny, you may. Let me hold onto this for you so it doesn't get dirty."

Danny nodded and turned away.

"Okay, thanks mom!"

The Queen Mother vanished through and with the portal she had created. Moments later, Danny shot off into the city, with the remaining able-bodied heroes hot on his trail. The young king reached Darkseid rather quickly, engaging him while the Leaguers looked on from cover. Darkseid was foolishly amused.

"A child dares oppose me? Flee, whelp."

Batman tensed as Darkseid unleashed his Omega Effect. Two red beams shot from his eyes, and yet the young king floated firm. Two eerie, green beams shot from his own eyes and, to the shock of everyone, overpowered his foe's. Darkseid shattered into many tiny pieces which then vanished into thin air.

"Man, he really wasn't smart!" Danny grinned, "Who fires a death beam at the king of the dead?"

He received no response, as the heroes were too stunned to speak. Smiling, he saluted the group before tearing open another portal.

"Oh well; villain gone, carry on. Later guys!"

Batman glared at Constantine, but the Brit had already absconded. Heaving a sigh, he resigned himself to this new reality. Darkseid was gone, but there was an incredible new power to worry about.

(Note: My only source of information is DP canon, DP fanon, and the Justice League cartoons from the early '00s. I apologize for any inaccuracies with Batman's or Constantine's behavior.)

[gaza-giving-tree]

Imagine the pain and fear of giving birth in a tent without medication or proper medical supplies. Imagine your infant son taking his first breaths under skies haunted by drones and warplanes, each rumble overhead a cruel lullaby that keeps you awake, heart pounding in the dark. When the ordeal is over, your beautiful newborn swaddled in the only blanket you can find, you struggle through rubble-strewn streets to reach a crowded, poorly equipped hospital, praying it hasn't already been bombed.

Images: (Top) The displacement camp and tent in which Samah and her family lives. (Bottom) Samah's children celebrate Ramadan in the displacement camp.

@samah-2

Story written by @rumiandroses

Samah is a mother of three—two young daughters, aged nine and two, and a baby boy just six months old, whose world so far has been nothing but tents, ruins, and the ceaseless thunder of shelling. Her husband now carries the weight of not only his own family but also his three siblings—one has a child of their own, and another who dreamed of studying medicine abroad. Those dreams, like their home, have crumbled into the dust of Jabalia camp, destroyed by war.

The devastation is absolute. Their home in northern Gaza, a sanctuary built with years of hard work and sacrifice, was leveled in an instant, leaving behind only debris and memories. Every attempt to find safety leads them to new dangers: from Khan Younis, to Rafah, back to Khan Younis—a relentless cycle of displacement where each new camp is promised to be safer than the last but never is. Airstrikes and snipers are not the only threats; the tents themselves are prisons of misery, offering no protection from the elements or the nightmares that lurk beyond the canvas walls.

Essentials are scarce. Food, when it can be found, is a bitter triumph, and clean drinking water is a rare luxury. Bathing has become a memory, and baby formula is almost impossible to obtain. Each time Samah leaves in search of supplies, she knows it might be the last time her children see her. But what choice does she have? Hunger and thirst do not wait, and neither do the relentless drones that circle above, hungry for new targets.

In winter, they endured the biting cold inside the tent, their breath misting in the dark. As the summer approaches, the summer heat will become a merciless oppressor.

Sweat and grime cling to their skin. The children cry, their voices hoarse from thirst. Rashes spread from the unsanitary conditions. Mosquitoes carry diseases through the stagnant air, and the risk of polio is a shadow that haunts every drop of water. Medical care is a distant dream.

Samah was forced to give birth to her son in a field hospital without medicine or supplies, and even then, reaching the overcrowded, poorly equipped hospital afterward was a battle of its own.

In spite of all the pain and loss, her faith has not been shattered. Despite everything, Samah clings to her belief in God’s mercy and the hope that someone, somewhere, will hear their cries.

But hope alone cannot open borders. To escape this nightmare, Samah’s family needs $86,500—to cover evacuation permits, living expenses in Egypt, medical care, and education for the children. Time is running out, and every moment they remain is another chance for danger to find them.

Samah’s plea is simple: to save her children from a future in a war zone where every breath is borrowed and every sunrise could be their last. She needs the world to see, to care, and to help.

Their survival depends on the kindness of those who refuse to look away.

You can donate to Samah’s GoFundMe campaign [HERE].

This campaign has been vetted by @bilal-salah0.

[yamumsyadadd]

hidden

this will be a three part series.

reader is younger (22), alexia is 30. the relationship is hidden but a select few find out and it doesn't go well.

let me know what you think :)

Sometimes there are people in this world that want you to change who you are, to hide, to pretend you are something or someone you aren’t. you had never been someone to shy away from the things that were important to you. You loved loudly, proudly, not only to your family but also with your friends and girlfriends.

For three years, you and your now ex-girlfriend Sam, had been incredibly public with your relationship. It came with a cost though. The fights, the unfollowing of social media accounts, the slow disappearances, all went noticed by fans. Suddenly, the home you had in Portland became incredibly suffocating.

After an early exit for the World Cup in Australia, you decided to leave Portland. Mainly due to your ex-girlfriend, and needing to get out of the hole you felt stuck in. Barcelona came knocking quickly. It honestly surprised you. For an entire day you sat googling the team history, wanting to better prepare yourself and not show up to the club looking like the typical American that people hated.

Both the club and you agreed that you would just join the team in Mexico, your belongings would be sent to Barcelona early, the club organised an apartment and for someone to unpack your belongings for you.

You knew that the players of Barcelona, as a club and individual people, expected a lot. The first few days were a little more relaxed, a lot more running than most would’ve enjoyed. But you loved running. It was something you did whenever you were in your own head too much. For the past six months you spent a lot of time running. Improving your fitness, your stamina and even beating your own personal bests.

It was true that the team was full of incredible players, it was hard not to get star struck at them. But one in particular. Alexia. There was something more than just being start struck. Alexia was beautiful. Her face, her hair, the way she sounded when she spoke English, and her ability to make everyone feel welcome. You had a little crush.

And unbeknownst to you, Alexia had one too. But due to you being younger, a whole nine years younger, she refused to do anything about it. Marta and Irene caught on quickly, as did Jana and Claudia. While Marta was encouraging it, citing it would just be a little harmless fun, Irene was completely against it.

Team nights were usually lowkey. Dinner at a restaurant, a hike or an afternoon at the beach. But not this time, it was a celebration. In a week the season would start, so this was the teams last chance to let loose with no real consequences.

Jana’s apartment was a mess, multiple outfits, discarded alcohol glasses, make up and shoes scattered around. It had been three hours since you arrived, Cata, Patri and Claudia were already drinking, or as they said, ‘pre-drinking the pre-drinks’. There was no possible way for you to catch up on them without completely wiping yourself out before getting to the club, so you slowly started drinking.

By the time you actually arrived, Cata, Patri and Claudia were past drunk, you and Jana were on the same level being slightly tipsy. The club was loud and packed. The team had gotten a table in the VIP section above the dancefloor. From that advantage point everyone could see everyone. The captains, who weren’t completely drunk (Patri), could keep an eye on their team.

Along with the team there were a few extra people, Irene’s wife Lucinda had come along, so had a few of the Spanish women’s national team, and Alexia’s little sister, Alba. You didn’t know it was her sister until you were completely drunk and dancing on the dancefloor.

“Alexia, she’s my big sister.” Alba leaned in, hands on your waist helping you stay upright. “I think she has a crush on you.” Your eyes almost bludged out of your head.

“No she doesn’t, she’s just being nice.”

“I can promise you, it’s more than that. I can prove it.” Alba told you her plan, sneak off out to the back patio, she was planning on leaving and a girl from earlier in the night was outside waiting for her. She was sure that if you both played the game, Alexia would be out in no time.

You both successfully exited the club into the smoker’s area, you were past the point of drunk and didn’t notice the death stare you received from Alexia as you walked away with her little sister.

Marta was sat next to Caro, hand resting on her thigh, giving Alexia an amused smile, “well Ale, are you going to just let her go with your little sister?” Caro and Irene gave Marta a look, one that proved neither agreed with it, “you know, she’s really drunk. She might need help home.”

“She has help home Marta.” Alexia grunted out. She knew it was a bad idea; she was thirty and you were still a kid. But she couldn’t help it. The way you smiled big and brightly, your eyes shining with happiness. The sound of your laugh, the way you remembered little random details about everyone, and the amount of work you always put in. no matter what, you were one of the first to get to training and one of the last to leave. While you hung out with the younger girls, you weren’t like them. You enjoyed having fun but as soon as it was training time, you locked in. it amazed her.

Alexia stood up abruptly, startling the girls around her. “Ale, leave her.” Irene tried to reach out, but Alexia shook her off.

“I’m going home. Goodnight.” They knew she wasn’t going home, at least not directly and that was confirmed as soon as they watched her walk out the same door you had gone through prior with Alba.

“Marta, why do you have to encourage it!” Irene groaned.

“Ale needs some fun. No, she deserves some fun. They are both adults and if they are both consenting there’s nothing wrong with it. Hell, look at lucy and Ona.” Marta vaguely waved a hand towards Lucy and Ona who were in their own little world on a separate table.

Outside, you were laughing with Alba and her friend as they lit up a cigarette. That was something different from home. Spanish people smoked and it was generally accepted to do it wherever. Expect for in the south, that didn’t happen much at home. Both your parents were strictly against it and since you were a professional athlete, and so were most your friends, you had never really been around people who smoked.

You had completely forgotten about the whole mission, until the door to the club slammed open. You heard Alba mutter something about it taking long enough and then you felt her presence.

Commanding but not scary, the tension was beaming off of her. “let’s go y/n. I’m taking you home.” The way she spoke was possessive, as if you belonged to her but you didn’t, you were your own personal.

“No, I’m okay here thanks.” You almost lost your balance as you said it, Alexia was the one to save you.

“Ale, if she says she wants to stay, let her stay.” The look alexia shot alba was enough that she put her hands up in surrender. Alexia’s arm went around your waist, holding tightly onto your hip. As soon as she loosened her grip a little, you tried to run. You were, after all, a runner.

Alexia groaned and then took off after you, considering how drunk you were it was easy to catch up. “Please let me just take you home.” She groaned, your drunken giggle filled her ears, and she couldn’t help but smile at you.

A shiver went through you as you looked into Alexia’s eyes, you weren’t cold, but Alexia automatically removed her jacket and draped it over your shoulders, “can we stop for nuggets on the way?” it was alexia’s time to laugh.

Alexia did end up getting you the nuggets and she watched in slight disgust as you ate the entire box in a few short minutes. The walk to your flat was halted by the downfall of rain. As you sat in the back of the uber you couldn’t help but think about how warm alexia’s body felt as you sat against her.

Both of you knew it was a bad idea. Alexia was 30, you were barely 22, she was a captain and most importantly, she was Alexia Putellas. But for Alexia, there was a look in your eyes that made her want to throw everything away.

There was a moment in the elevator, you were leaning against the back of the elevator and Alexia was standing in front of you. Slowly she walked towards you, as if you were a creature she was worried would run away, her hands landed on your hips, thumbs running against the exposed skin. Just as she started to lean in, the elevator binged, and the doors opened.

Ms Santos from down the hall came in. the old lady was nice; you felt bad for her. The small talk that started in the elevator continued until she was at her door. While you were far too drunk to help with her bag, Alexia carried it for her, forever the gentlewoman.

As you were unlocking the door to your apartment, your mind was racing with thoughts about the state you left your apartment in. was it clean? Were the dirty clothes all over the floor? Alexia’s warm hand was placed on top of yours, “let me help you.” She murmured into your ear.

When you alexia finally got the door open, it was like a flip switched. The warmth of her hand on your lower back and the heat pooling in your underwear had effectively sobered you up. Alexia was looking insanely hot as she stood there in your kitchen, getting you water and Panadol for the impending headache she was sure you would have.

All you could do was watch her. The way she moved so effortlessly, as if she’d been in your apartment many times. How her hand ran under the water to make sure it was cool, and mostly how her hands gripped the glass. You wished she was gripping any part of you like that.

When she turned around towards you, she saw the way you were looking at her. Your bottom lip between your teeth as you looked up and down at her. Slowly she made her way towards you, glass in one hand and Panadol in the other.

“Here, take the Panadol and drink the water, por favor.”

“I don’t want it.” You pouted up at her, hand reaching for the hem of her shirt.

“What do you want then hm?” one of her perfectly manicured eyebrows raised.

“You.” The small smirk on her face was all the sign you needed. You stepped forward, hands going under her shirt and kissed her. She automatically kissed back and for a while, you both got lost in it until it hit you.

You turned around as quick as you could, making yourself dizzy. Alexia was still in the kitchen, confused until she heard you empty your stomach contents into what she hoped was the toilet. She moved just as fast, coming to hold your hair and rub your back. To you, it seemed to last forever but when you were finally done, a wave of embarrassment washed over you.

“Shower time, yes?” she moved around with ease. Starting the shower, getting you a towel and then helping you up. “Arms up.” You followed every direction she gave you, too tired and drunk to argue. Once you were in the shower, alexia left the bathroom to get you some comfy clothes to sleep in.

She took her time, admiring the way your bedroom seemed to be so you. The photos of your family and national teammates littered your dresser, your training bag thrown on a chair in the corner of the room and plants that were scattered around.

You slowly made your way out of the bathroom, feeling slightly better but still drunk. Alexia turned around to see you standing there, hair damp and body wrapped in a towel. She couldn’t help but feel things.

“Can you help me?” your voice was small, almost vulnerable. Alexia didn’t say anything, just nodded her hand and came over to you. She tried not to look at your naked body, but she couldn’t help it. You were beautiful, she knew that already, but this was different.

“Can you stay?” you asked as you got into bed.

“Okay.” Alexia turned off the main bathroom and bedroom light, plugging your phone into charge and climbing into the other side of your bed. She manhandled you until you were laying with your head on her chest, her hand running through your hair.

“Thank you for looking after me.” You placed a small kiss on her lips and let yourself fall asleep.

You assumed, that asking her to stay meant that she would stay the entire night but when you woke up, she was gone. No goodbye, no note. Nothing.

Maybe she has somewhere to be, or maybe she just couldn’t sleep in someone else's bed, you weren’t sure, but it stung a little.

Two days later at training when she completely ignored you, it hurt even more. Maybe she regretted it, maybe she was embarrassed. The entire day she acted like you didn’t exist and it hurt, but then as it was nearing midnight she turned up at your door.

[vin-taege]

Hi! I loved your awkward chishiya flirting sooo much <3 The way you write is so in character even with him being nervous about showing affection. Can you write him being completely oblivious he’s liked yn the whole time they’ve been through the games; he thought he was just protecting them out of trying to be a better person until Kuina is like you moron you’re clearly in love w them!!

And he’s like oh fuck, what are feelings?? I have them?? His thought process as he tries to deny it and then him having some awkward interactions w yn bc he doesn’t know how to act now he’s aware he likes her and then is desperately trying to flirt with no idea how to at all

Tokens of Appreciation

Summary: Chishiya tells himself that he sees you only as a friend, despite doing his best to give you a gift.

Genre: fluff

Pairing: reader x chishiya

Words: 2.4k

Note: I tweaked this a little to show more of him being in denial and still in the middle of processing it ^^ I didn't want it to be too close to the other awkward flirting fic, but I hope you still like it! Also god, I;m so sorry it took more than a year ; O; Good news is that I'm almost done with my thesis, so I have a bit more time to write :DD

Chishiya set the screwdriver down with a frustrated sigh. The music box sat in front of him, open yet still without song. He saw this on the day of the six of clubs game. The car that was supposed to pick them up got a flat tire and stranded them for a good hour. As much as he hated the militants for their incompetence, he was grateful that he had extra time to scavenge around the nearby shops. It was in one of the metalwork stalls where he found it.

It was fairly light, small enough that you could hold it when you brought both hands together. The outside looked like a small pot, with the lid having scalloped edges. Ornate, gold vines swirled around the sides of the box, leading up to the front. At the center of it was a teardrop-shaped gemstone that refracted prisms under light. Inside was a small rabbit instead of a typical ballerina. It posed with its arms up mid-dance, pointy ears curved back as it looked up.

That was what made Chishiya decide that this was the perfect gift for you. At the beginning of your friendship—before you had worn down his walls with “incessant” conversation—you had off-handedly mentioned a memory of your childhood toy.

“Oh, look at that!” you picked up the small piece of candy. The packaging still boasted its classic colors of red, blue, white, and black. Turning around, you held it out to Chishiya. “I used to eat this all the time when I was a kid.”

He wrinkled his nose in disgust. This was the ninth room around the Beach that you’ve ‘investigated’—a fancy word you liked to use instead of ‘snooped around.’ “You don’t know how long that’s been there. Plus, you’ll get cavities.”

“Candy doesn’t expire,” you stuck your tongue out at him, swiftly unwrapping the sweet and popping it in your mouth. You smoothed out the wrapper, particularly the area around the illustrated rabbit.

“Somehow, I don’t think that’s true—”

“He looks like the bunny plush I had.” Chishiya knit his eyebrows in confusion before glancing at the wrapper. He shrugged, feigning indifference.

“All rabbits look the same.”

“No, idiot. This one has pointy ears instead of rounded ones.”

“What’s that?” Kuina’s voice nearly made him knock over the entire thing. He flinched, throwing a blanket over his project. Clearing his throat, he stood up and narrowed his eyes at the girl.

“What did I tell you about knocking?”

Despite his small frame blocking the table from view, Kuina side-stepped around him, swiftly pulling the cloth right off. He hissed, moving to take the music box, but Kuina was faster, swiping it off the table and bringing it up to her eye level.

“Wow,” she enunciated, dragging the word. “This is for them, isn’t it?”

“No,” he tried not to stutter. He reached for it before Kuina held it above him. Her eyes were glued to the meticulous details. “If you drop that, I will kill you next game and make it look like an accident.”

She chortled, throwing her head back. Her loudness grew on him—is what he always told himself. Being his only friend when the Beach was only starting to form, he learned quickly how to tolerate Kuina’s more bubbly personality.

“What’s it for? Their birthday coming up?”

“No. I’m just making sure all our pieces are in place.” Kuina let him nab the item back. She watched as he wrapped it in the blanket, tucking it safely back into a drawer. 

“You totally like her,” she snorted.

“No, I don’t!” It came out too fast, too loudly. Chishiya’s face was starting to redden. His lips were pressed in a thin line, eyes downcast. It took a moment for him to collect himself. “We need her for the plan.”

“Yeah, right. It’s been half a year. Whatever long game you’re playing is over,” she smirked at him, plopping on his bed. “If anything, you’re the one getting played.”

“I don’t like her that way,” he crossed his arms defensively.

“Keep telling yourself that, lover boy,” Kuina chuckled, throwing a pillow at him. Chishiya swatted it away, face beet-red.

“Don’t call me that.”

“Call you what, lover boy?”

“Kuina!”

Three soft knocks interrupted their banter. Chishiya froze when you opened the door, slipping in with a mischievous grin. Your arms were behind your back, hands hidden from their view. A faint crinkling gave Chishiya a hint as to what you were holding. 

You stepped towards him, making him instinctively block the drawer the music box was in. Your grin spread wider, making your cheeks look unbearably adorable. Wait, did he really think that?

“I have something for you,” you said almost teasingly. You thrust your hand to his chest, pressing a package of biscuits on him. He wasn’t religious, but he prayed that you couldn’t feel his heartbeat thrumming out his rib cage.

Glancing down, he gave the biscuits a curious look-over. The wrapper was pink and white, with small cartoon strawberries spread around it. Attempting to take it from you gently, his fingers grazed over the back of your hand, flustering you both. Quickly, you whipped your head towards Kuina, chucking her the other item.

She caught the lighter with ease, excitedly flicking it on. Kuina was certain the militants threw it out after the pool fire incident. Totally not your trio’s fault. “Woah! Where’d you get these?”

“I was in Tatta’s storage space,” you beamed proudly.

Chishiya’s blood curdled. He squeezed the biscuits, though still careful not to break them. Shifting his weight to one foot, he scrunched his face in distaste. “What were you doing with Tatta?”

“Nothing, we were just hanging out. Ann dragged him into the hallway for a quick conversation so I had time to ‘investigate,’” you motioned with air quotes.

“What are you hanging out with him for?” The blunt words left his mouth before he could process them. 

His heart shrivelled a little when your smile faded. Taken aback, you clasped your hands, suddenly self-conscious. “I thought he was nice and making another friend around here didn’t seem like a bad idea.”

“Well, what if he’s just another sleaze like Niragi? You know how some of the men slobber like dogs here. And you’re in a closed space with just him? Just the two of you in a room? Together? Do you know how stupid that is? What if something happened and Kuina and I were in this room and we couldn’t hear you and—”

“What Chishiya is saying—” Kuina spoke over him, sending him a sharp glare despite her pinched smile. “—is that we just want you to be careful around here. I think Tatta is a fun guy too, but don’t let your guard down that easily okay?”

You nodded wordlessly, avoiding Chishiya’s eyes. Unbeknownst to you, his look softened, fingers releasing their tight grip on the biscuits. He slouched, silently berating himself for sounding so harsh, especially after you’ve just given him a gift. Oh god, you gave him a gift! He looked back at the cookies, strawberry-flavored no doubt. Perhaps it was your attention to detail that chipped at his armor. The way you remembered how he took two teaspoons of sugar with his tea and how you’d sometimes take his hoodie after a rough game and bring it back smelling of fabric softener.

Just normal things good friends would do for each other. Because that’s what you were—good friends.

“Chishiya?”

“What?” He blinked slowly, glancing at Kuina through silver hair framing his face. 

“I said I’m gonna get us drinks from the bar. You sound like you need it.” She stood up, motioning for you to take her place on the bed. You shot her a small smile, though your mood has obviously been dampened. 

Kuina passed near Chishiya, lowering her voice to whisper, “Fix your mess.”

When the door shut with a soft click, it was quiet for a few awkward moments. The room felt like a held breath, with Chishiya still standing, holding the biscuits like an idiot, while you were sitting on his bed, regarding him a huge eye sore in the middle of the spacious hotel room. Being a high-profile diamonds player bought him certain luxuries, despite how unnecessarily flashy he deemed them. 

“I know you’re just looking out for me, but you really could be nicer sometimes.” He almost didn’t catch what you said, your voice soft. “I just wanted to get you something nice.”

He sighed, more so at his own stupidity. He pushed himself off the drawer and sat beside you, your knees touching. Pinching the corner of the wrapper, he ripped the packaging open, angling the biscuits towards you. Your knee tensed beside him, making guilt claw at his stomach more.

“Take one,” he said, almost demandingly. You huffed, gingerly taking a piece. It was a small, pillow-shaped shell. You bit into it, bringing your hand back to look at the strawberry filling inside. Chishiya hummed in approval as soon as the sweet cream hit his tongue.

Wordlessly, you shared the biscuits—his own form of apology. You scooted closer to him, a silent act of forgiveness he quickly picked up on. Always the clever man, yet he could never figure himself out.

“I just don’t want anything bad to happen to you. Anyone with eyes can see how beautiful you are. If anyone here tried anything on you, I’d have to put rat poison in their alcohol. Do you know how troublesome that is?” he wrinkled his nose, pointedly munching.

A grin crept into your face. Your eyes flitted towards his face, dark brown eyes meeting yours. “You think I’m beautiful?”

Chishiya was stunned for a second. Blood rushed to his cheeks and the furrow in his brows deepened. He stammered, “No. No! That’s not what I meant. I mean that I’m just worried about you!”

You brought your face just a tad bit closer to his. “You worry about me?”

“No, no! I mean, you’re just a good ally and I don’t have any other strong feelings about you. I’m doing this for the sake of our alliance—”

He didn’t notice as you took the last biscuit, gingerly pushing it against his lips. He froze, eyes wide as he took in your appearance. An orange glow from the setting sun wrapped around your silhouette. You looked heavenly, like an angel beckoning him to the next life. Despite all logic screaming at him, he would gladly take your hand and go wherever that may be. 

You pushed the biscuit past his lips, the soft pair almost chasing after your fingertip as you pulled away. Curling your finger, you wiped the corner of his mouth with the edge of your knuckles. His breath stilled in his chest.

Chishiya leaned closer, your pull towards him magnetic. Shakily, he brought a hand up, about to tuck a strand of hair behind your ear. He’s seen this move once before, during a promotional commercial for a drama. He was reviewing for his finals at the time, taking only a few seconds to stare coldly at his roommate because of how loud the TV was. Evidently, he never put it into practice before.

“Ow!” you jolted back, hands cupping your face. Somehow, despite his brilliant mind, he accidentally poked you in the eye. You grit your teeth in pain, globs of tears running down your cheek. 

“Shit, I’m sorry!” He tried prying your eyes away from your face, using his free arm to wrap around your back. “I’m so sorry. Shit. Don’t rub it, it’ll get worse. Come here.”

Assisting you through your blurry vision, he managed to walk you to his bathroom. He turned the faucet on, making you bend over the sink. Forcing stillness into his hand, he caught the water, gently splashing it against your reddening eye. You hissed, jolting back at the contact, though a firm hand on your back kept you in place.

“I’m so sorry. I really didn’t mean to.” The distress was evident in his voice. You’ve never seen him in such shambles before, not even during games where he was at the brink of death.

“I know, ‘Shiya. It’s okay,” you managed to smile at him. He wiped your eyes with a soft towel, bringing it down for a second to gently grip your chin. He nudged your head up, only enough for him to check on your eye. He let out a deep sigh before pressing the towel back. At least the pain has died down a bit now. “How bad is it?”

“It’s not fatal.”

You snorted, hitting him lightly on the shoulder. His lips twitched almost into a grin, though he was still slouched over in embarrassment. “I can’t believe this is the thanks I get for feeding you.”

“I… I-I didn’t mean to. Honestly!” He shoved his other hand into his hoodie pocket. Suddenly, the floor was the most interesting thing in the room. You chuckled lightly at his antics. There was something so boyish about the way he stood, almost as if he wanted his hoodie to swallow him whole.

You brought your hand up, wrapping it around his on the towel. His cheeks heated up, though still defiant in meeting your gaze. You stroked the back of his hand with your thumb, surprised that he hasn’t pulled away yet.

“I’m sorry I poked your eye. I was just trying to…” he trailed off. How was he even going to explain himself out of this one? “There was dirt on your face. You should take a bath from time to time.”

“I do take baths!” you exclaimed, swatting at him again. You jabbed a finger to his chest, tone riddled with tease. “You’re just so obsessed with me.”

He finally allowed himself to smile, the smile that made everything feel normal again. At that moment, you weren’t players in the Borderland fighting for your life every other day. You were just two friends, for now. Chishiya is a tough nut to crack, but between your laughter sounding like tinkling bells and the euphoric buzz he gets from being around you, he’d be able to sort himself out. He just needs to take it one step at a time, starting with making that music box sing for you again. 

Because that's what good friends do. God, he was such a good friend.

Back in the main room, the entrance door swung open, followed by the sound of glass bottles clinking against each other. Kuina proudly declared, “I got us the stuff!”

“Did you bring ice?” Chishiya called out to her.

“Of course!” Even from the bathroom, you could hear her huff.

“Good, because we need a bunch of it here.”

[pandapetals]

sunlight & sawdust

chapter three: roses & rasps

previous chapter | next chapter

summary: For two years, Joel Miller has done nothing but scowl at you from across the room, barely tolerating your warmth, your kindness, and your ever-present sunshine. And for two years, you’ve told yourself his gruffness doesn’t bother you—that his clipped words and cold stares don’t matter. But then, out of nowhere, he offers to fix the damaged floor in your flower shop. For free. Suddenly, the man who could barely stand to look at you is showing up every day, fixing things that don’t need fixing, sharing quiet lunches, and—most shocking of all—getting along with Ellie, your daughter, who has never warmed up to anyone as quickly as she has to him.

pairing: joel miller x fem!single mom reader - no outbreak/au

content warnings: slight reader description, no y/n used, grumpy joel, grumpy x sunshine trope, ellie is reader's daughter, reader is a single mom, tommy being a meddler, reader is friends with tommy, au setting in Austin, joel is a carpenter, reader owns a flower shop, fluff, angst and eventual smut, joel is bad at feelings, sarah mentioned

a/n: divider by @saradika-graphics.

Joel took a slow, steady breath as he stood outside the flower shop.

The place was… charming.

The sign above the door swayed slightly in the warm afternoon breeze. It was painted in delicate cursive and inviting. Flowers spilled from pots and hanging baskets outside the windows, their soft colors and sweet scent wrapping around him, making the whole place feel like something out of a different world—one that didn’t belong to him.

He paused just before reaching for the door handle, his eyes catching on the scene inside.

Through the window, he saw you sitting behind the counter, your hands carefully weaving a braid into a little girl's hair perched in front of you.

She was small—maybe six, maybe seven. Joel had never been good at guessing kids’ ages.

She sat cross-legged in her chair, a book open in her lap. Her tiny fingers idly played with the edge of the pages as you worked. You looked completely at ease, your fingers moving through her hair with practiced familiarity, your expression soft and content.

Joel hesitated.

Something about it—about you, about her—made something twist deep in his chest.

Before he could think too much about it, he exhaled sharply and pulled the door open, the soft chime of the bell above sealing his fate.

"Joel!" The warmth in your voice caught him off guard.

You greeted him like he was a friend, like he belonged here, in this sunlit little shop filled with fresh blooms and soft laughter.

"I can’t thank you enough for doing this," you said, beaming as you tucked a loose strand of hair behind your ear.

Joel forced himself to stay steady despite his confidence immediately wavering under your gaze. He nodded, offering a faint, almost reluctant smile.

"Like I said, not a problem." His voice came out softer than he intended.

His eyes flickered downward, landing on the little girl sitting before you.

She had your eyes. Your nose, too. She had the same shape, the same scrunch of concentration as she glanced up from her book, curious but quiet.

"Oh, right." You rested a gentle hand on her shoulder, smiling. "This is Ellie."

Joel swallowed.

"Say hello, Ellie. You remember Tommy, right? Well, this is his older brother, Joel."

Ellie blinked up at him, wide-eyed and silent.

"He’s gonna fix the floor for us."

Joel crouched slightly, lowering himself closer to her level, offering the best non-intimidating smile he could manage.

"Hey there," he said, his voice quieter now, softer, trying.

Ellie just stared.

Not scared, not exactly shy—just watching, assessing.

You let out a small chuckle, rubbing her back gently. "She’s shy around new people."

Joel nodded, keeping his expression neutral. He’d seen plenty of kids shy around strangers before—hell, he understood it.

Still, something about Ellie’s silence, the way her big, watchful eyes lingered on him, stirred something in his chest.

He pushed the thought aside, straightening up. 

"So, where’s this floor that needs fixin’?" he asked, hands settling on his hips.

"Right." You gently squeezed Ellie’s shoulder, whispering a quick, "Don’t move, sweetie," before pressing a soft kiss to her forehead.

Joel wasn’t sure why that made something tighten deep in his chest.

You stepped around the counter, moving past him, and he followed—or tried to because, for a second, his eyes betrayed him.

Your dress swayed, and your steps were light—effortless and natural like you belonged in a place filled with warmth and color.

Joel caught himself, blinking hard, his jaw clenching as he yanked his gaze away.

Focus, Miller.

This was a job. Nothing else.

Shaking his head, he followed you across the shop, willing himself to think about anything other than the soft floral scent still lingering in the air between you.

You stopped before the window, gesturing toward the A/C unit sticking out of it.

"This is where the water leaked from the old unit—all over the wood floor." You sighed, rubbing the back of your neck. "I’m not sure how bad it is. I can see the damage here… and there… but it could be worse once you start working."

Joel nodded, already crouching down to get a better look.

The floor beneath the A/C told its own story. The wood was warped in places, darkened by water exposure, and some boards slightly buckled. But the real problem would be underneath—what had seeped down past the surface.

He ran his fingers along the grain, feeling the soft give beneath his touch.

Not good.

"Looks like the damage is pretty severe," he said bluntly, standing up and dusting his hands off on his jeans.

You shifted slightly, chewing your bottom lip. "Yeah, that’s what I was afraid of."

Joel’s eyes flickered back to you for a moment, catching how your fingers curled into the hem of your dress like you were trying not to let the stress show.

"You tried dryin’ it up. I’m guessin’?"

"Yeah." You let out a small, breathy laugh, shaking your head. "Used some towels and… what’s it called… a shock vac?"

Joel huffed, amused despite himself. "Shop vac."

Your nose scrunched slightly. "Right. That."

He exhaled, rolling his shoulders as he looked back at the floor. Yeah, you tried—but it wasn’t enough.

"I’ll have to pull up a few boards to see how deep the damage goes," he explained, voice even. "If it’s just the surface, I can replace what’s warped. If it’s worse, it might need more work."

"Joel." Your voice was firm, unwavering, cutting through the quiet hum of the shop. "You can’t possibly still want to do this for free. That’s a lot of work."

Joel exhaled sharply, already shaking his head before you could even finish. He raised a hand, stopping you in your tracks. "I told you, I don’t want your money." His voice was steady and deep, his southern drawl holding just enough of an edge to warn you not to push.

But you did anyway.

"You’re too kind, Joel. I mean… this is gonna cost you supplies, your time—"

Joel took a step closer.

You weren’t backing down, searching his face, looking for something, a crack in his resolve. But there wasn’t one.

"It won’t cost me a thing," he said, his voice quieter now but no less firm. His eyes locked with yours. "I’m doing this for you because I want to."

Something flickered in your gaze—hesitation, maybe even disbelief—before it softened into something gentler.

And then, you smiled.

Not just any smile. Not the polite one, not the one you gave customers when they walked through the door. This was something real—something just for him.

It hit him harder than he expected.

Joel’s heart did something stupid in his chest: tightening and skipping.

His whole body tensed against the feeling, but it was too late—his resolve, his usual hard-edged demeanor, all of it cracked, just a little.

He cleared his throat, forcing himself to shift his weight, trying to shake whatever the hell that was.

"It’s not a problem." His voice was rougher now, like he needed to remind himself of that fact.

You tilted your head, still smiling, still too damn warm.

"Well," you mused, tapping a finger against your chin, "take whatever flowers you want. Or—" You paused, eyes brightening slightly. "Maybe I’ll cook you something. I have to repay you somehow."

Joel huffed, shaking his head. You were stubborn, alright.

"No, you don’t have to do anything in return," he said firmly, shaking his head again for emphasis. The thought of a home-cooked meal—made by you—lingered for a second longer than he liked. It was an appealing idea, more than he wanted to admit. 

But he pushed it away.

He didn’t want you feeling like you owed him anything. That wasn’t why he was doing this.

You waved him off with that damn warm smile, the one that made his chest feel a little too tight. "I’ll surprise you then."

Joel’s body tensed.

That thing happened again—the strange, unfamiliar flutter in his chest, the way his skin tingled like something inside him liked the idea of you surprising him.

He grunted, clearing his throat, trying to sound indifferent. "Fine." His voice was flat, nonchalant—at least, he hoped it was. But the small smile tugging at the corner of his mouth betrayed him.

You didn’t seem to notice. Or maybe you did and were just kind enough not to call him on it.

"You don’t have to start now—" you began, but Joel waved a hand dismissively.

"I’ll just start rippin’ up some of the floorboards. See how bad the water damage is underneath."

You nodded, flashing him one last smile before turning and making your way back to the counter.

Ellie was still curled up in her seat, nose buried deep in her book, her tiny fingers tapping absentmindedly against the pages.

"Hey, sweetie," you murmured as you walked up, smoothing a hand over her head.

Joel watched, unable to help himself.

You leaned down, gently tucking a loose strand of Ellie’s hair behind her ear. The way Ellie hummed in acknowledgment but didn’t look up, too lost in whatever world she was reading about. The way you just smiled, pure and unbothered, like this was the best part of your day.

Something heavy settled in Joel’s chest.

He should look away. Should focus on the work in front of him. But for one stupid moment, he let himself watch and admire.

Then, with a soft exhale, he tore his gaze away, forcing himself back to the task at hand.

The floor.

He needed to focus on that and not you.

Joel worked in determined silence, his movements precise and steady. He enjoyed this more than he’d ever admit out loud.

There was something about working with his hands—about its rhythm, the way his mind could go quiet when he focused on a task. It was almost therapeutic. The sharp creak of wood giving under his tools, the scent of sawdust mixing with the faint floral aroma lingering in the air—it was grounding in a way he hadn’t felt in a long time.

Every so often, despite himself, his focus wavered.

He caught himself stealing glances in your direction as you moved about the shop, tidying up, rearranging small bouquets, and wiping down counters.

You had a kind of effortless grace, even when doing the most mundane things. He hated how easy it was for his eyes to linger—to take in the way you tucked stray hair behind your ear, your lips pursed slightly when you concentrated, and you hummed under your breath when you thought no one was paying attention.

He was paying attention.

Too much.

After nearly two hours, his knees ached, and his back was sore, but most of the damaged boards were pulled up, and the worst of the job lay bare in front of him.

He exhaled, rubbing his hands over his thighs when the soft tap tap of your footsteps caught his ear.

You stopped beside him, peering at his work before meeting his gaze.

"I’m gonna close up shop. Ellie’s hungry, so we’re heading out."

Joel wiped the sweat from his brow with the back of his arm, realizing only now how late it had gotten. He glanced toward the window—sure enough, the sky had dimmed, and golden streaks of evening light stretched across the street.

Something inside him tightened at the thought of you leaving.

It was stupid. He shoved it down.

"Right," he said, clearing his throat. "Should be goin’ too."

But then, you hesitated.

"I could give you a key… so you can stay later if you want," you said, your voice softer now. Though you shouldn’t overwork yourself."

Joel froze for half a second longer than he meant to—a key. The idea of you trusting him enough for that made his stomach twist into something complicated.

He cleared his throat again, shifting his weight. "No, it’s alright."

You nodded, flashing him a kind smile. "Alright. Thank you again so much. I guess I’ll see you here tomorrow."

Joel gave a short nod. "Yeah, I got time tomorrow morning."

"Okay."

You thanked him again before turning to gather your things, your movements unhurried and effortless—like you weren’t even aware of how Joel was forcing himself to stay composed, rubbing the back of his neck, willing himself not to watch you leave.

But the world had a funny way of kicking him when he was already down.

Just as he stood, wiping his hands on his jeans, he heard the soft patter of little footsteps approaching.

He turned, brow furrowing slightly in surprise as Ellie stopped just a few feet away.

Joel hadn’t expected that.

After their brief interaction earlier, he figured the kid wasn’t too fond of him. She hadn’t spoken to him all afternoon; she just kept to her book, quiet and observant. He’d assumed she’d keep her distance.

Now, here she was.

He knelt slightly, just enough to get closer to her level, offering the smallest, gentlest smile he could muster. "What’s up, kiddo?" His voice was softer now, careful.

Ellie didn’t reply, just blinked up at him, big brown eyes steady and thoughtful.

Then, Joel noticed that both of her small hands were tucked behind her back.

Before he could ask, she shifted slightly, then slowly held something out in front of her.

A single pink tulip.

The same kind you’d worn in your hair yesterday. The same kind Joel had pocketed.

Joel’s breath hitched.

His gaze flickered from the flower to Ellie, his chest tightening in a way he really didn’t know how to deal with.

She still didn’t say anything; she just waited. Her expression was calm and patient. Then, after a beat, she offered him a tiny, almost shy smile.

Joel swallowed thickly, carefully taking the tulip from her small hands, his fingers brushing against hers for just a moment. His voice came out quieter than he meant, slightly hoarse. "Is this for me?"

His stupid heart did that thing again, and he couldn’t push it away for the life of him.

Ellie nodded, her big brown eyes scanning Joel’s face like she was studying him, trying to figure him out.

She was a sharp kid—Joel could give her that. Observant. Thoughtful. And apparently, just as warm as you.

He stared down at the tulip in his hand, handling it carefully like it might break under his touch. He wasn’t used to delicate things. He wasn’t used to people giving him things, especially not something so small and thoughtful.

"Why’d you give this to me?" His voice came out quieter than usual, gentle in a way that surprised even him.

Ellie’s face broke into the sweetest little smile, and for a second, it knocked the air out of Joel’s lungs.

Because damn.

She looked just like you.

"It’s Mommy’s favorite," she said shyly, rocking on the balls of her feet.

Joel felt something stir in his chest, warm and aching.

The flower suddenly felt heavier in his palm, like it carried more weight now—your favorite.

His expression softened as he looked at Ellie. A small, genuine smile tugged at his lips—one touched with something sad, something unspoken.

"It’s very pretty," he murmured.

Ellie beamed. "They only grow in the springtime. Mommy loves spring."

Joel’s grip on the tulip tightened slightly. Deep and familiar, a dull pang settled in his chest, spreading through his ribs like an old wound reopening.

Sarah had loved spring, too.

It was perfect weather, and everything came back to life after winter. She used to run through the grass barefoot, plucking flowers and tucking them behind her ear, grinning up at him like she had the whole world figured out.

He swallowed thickly, forcing himself to stay in the present, even as his mind drifted to a past that felt too far away and close.

"Spring is nice," he muttered, his voice barely above a breath.

"Ellie," you called gently. "Don’t bother, Joel." You approached, voice warm but lightly scolding, resting a hand on Ellie’s shoulder before turning your attention to him.

"Are you okay?" you asked, your voice softer now, full of quiet concern. Your fingers barely grazed his shoulder in a light, reassuring touch.

It shouldn’t have affected him, but it did.

A shiver ran down Joel’s spine, and he had to fight the damn urge not to lean into it.

He shook his head quickly, forcing a small, strained smile. "I’m fine. She ain’t botherin’ me." His voice was rougher than he meant it to be.

You studied him briefly like you weren’t entirely convinced, but then you simply sighed, turning back to Ellie.

"She’s just curious, I guess." You ran a soothing hand over her head, fingers threading through her hair like it was second nature.

Joel let out a low chuckle, rubbing the back of his neck. "It’s fine, honestly."

He wasn’t used to kids staring at him like Ellie did—open, unafraid, full of innocent curiosity. It didn’t make him uncomfortable. If anything, it… grounded him.

He glanced at Ellie again, and the words left his mouth before he could stop himself.

"She’s adorable." His voice was softer than usual. The gruff edges smoothed out by something warm, something fond.

Ellie giggled, cheeks flushing pink. "Thank you," she said sweetly, peeking at him through her lashes.

Joel’s chest ached.

She had the same innocent, boundless kindness Sarah once had and the same wide-eyed look, as if the world were still full of magic and good things.

He exhaled, reaching out on instinct to ruffle her hair. "No problem, kiddo."

Ellie blushed deeper, then let out a tiny squeak before darting behind your legs. She gripped the fabric of your dress like it might make her invisible.

"Ellie," you laughed, shaking your head.

Joel’s lips twitched into a small, reluctant smile.

"Anyway," you said, looking back up at him, "I’m gonna lock up."

Joel nodded, his gaze lingering as Ellie peeked at him from behind your legs. Her small hands were still clinging tightly to your dress.

She was shy but not afraid. And damn it, that did something to him.

He let out a quiet chuckle at her bashful display, warmth creeping into his chest—something foreign, something he wasn’t ready to name.

With a slow exhale, he followed you both outside, stepping into the setting sun's golden hues.

You moved with your usual effortless grace, slipping the key into the lock and securing the shop with a soft click. But Joel could see the small struggle in your movements—juggling two bags, Ellie still attached to your legs like a second shadow.

Before he could think too hard about it, he reached out.

"Here."

He grabbed the tote bag and purse from your hands; their weight was nothing compared to the sudden tightness in his chest.

"Joel, you don’t have to—"

You barely had time to protest before he gave a gruff grunt and carried them toward your car, shutting down whatever argument you were about to make.

"Thank you," you murmured as you followed after him, a weary smile gracing your lips.

Joel froze.

It was the first time he’d seen anything on your face besides warmth, kindness, or the occasional flicker of stress.

This was different.

Subtle exhaustion lingered in your eyes, barely noticeable, like you were trying to keep it buried beneath that ever-present softness of yours.

He knew you had other emotions—of course you did. But Joel had gotten so damn used to seeing you smiling, bright, full of light that it was easy to forget that you weren’t just sunshine and warmth. You had burdens. Worries. Heavy things settled in your chest like they did in his.

That realization made something in him ache.

Because shit. He’d been such an asshole to you.

All that time spent pushing you away, being cold, snapping at you for nothing—and he never stopped to think that you had your own problems to deal with. Not once did he consider that maybe, just maybe, you needed kindness, too.

Regret curled deep in his stomach, sitting heavy.

He clenched his jaw, glancing down at the bags in his hands as if they might hold some answer.

They didn’t, but they gave him something to do, and right now, doing anything felt like the only way to silence the storm brewing in his chest.

[luveline]

Mothers day lil fic with eddie x reader from june baby? 👉🏻👈🏻

mom!reader, 1.5k “Big stretch!”

You hold your arms above your head, stretching as tall as you can go. Your t-shirt rises and exposes the soft stretch of your tummy, stretch marks decorating your skin and lightened in the sun as you lean to your left side.

“Okay, now we count. One, two…”

“Three,” Junie says. “Five, six, seven.”

“You forgot four, babe. Let’s try again, okay?” You stretch to your right side. “One, two, three…”

“Five, six, four–”

You giggle. Junie, who wasn’t doing a very good job at copying your yoga poses to begin with, hears you laughing and drops her short arms to her sides. “Tummy!” she says, jumping forward to push her hand into your stomach.

“I’m telling Eddie you did that. So nasty.” You drop your arms.

“Tummy,” she says again, poking at your belly button.

You catch her hands in yours and level her with a feigned glare. “What are you trying to say about my tummy?”

She beams. It’s lovely to have a little baby that looks like you. Her joy is yours, her smile made up of your lips and teeth. She’s a mirror, and you could never not think she was gorgeous —it makes you gorgeous too.

“Guess we’re done stretching?” you ask.

She lifts her hands to your sides, a gesture to be grabbed. You lean down to collect her and drag her up for a hug, holding her low at the back to encourage face to face time. “What, you’re not talking to me?” you ask warmly.

She touches your neck.

“I know,” you say. You’re pretty sure you get it.

Outside, tires roll across grass and road alike. You listen for the whine of Eddie’s van as it parks, grinning all over again when it comes. He’s not supposed to see you today, it’s Sunday, he has too much stuff to do.

If he’s outside, it means he swapped his shifts again or called out, which means he’s gonna give you one of his speeches about being sickly sweet in love with you. You can pretend you don’t like them as much as you want, but there’s no better feeling than being loved like you’re something special.

You open the door before he can, and he needs it, anyhow. To your confusion, he’s carrying a cellophane wrapped bouquet made up of a hundred different colours and a white box in the other, arms full and naked, no jacket to hide from the early summer sun. Your eyes widen as he gets to the steps. He looks like he made an effort to see you (and it doesn’t matter that he doesn’t always, you love him as he is, but you can’t help asking yourself why).

“What’s going on?” you ask.

Eddie smiles. “What do you mean?”

“What’s the stuff for?” There’s a bag hanging from his elbow.

“This stuff?” he asks, cresting the last step.

“Hi,” Junie says.

“Hi, babe.”

“Hi.” She reaches for the flowers. “Pretty.”

“You think so? I got them for your mommy but I’m sure she’ll share them with you.”

You’re nonplussed as he moves in to kiss your cheek and skirt around you. “Come on. This stuff’s heavy,” he says, the cellophane crunching against his chest as he squeezes past you into your home.

“Eddie, what is that stuff?”

“You don’t know what day it is today?”

You think about it for a second at least. “No?”

It’s not your birthday, not Junie’s. You and Eddie can’t have made it to your first anniversary already, but perhaps six months? You try to do the maths in your head. Eddie puts the white box on your kitchen table, the bag on Junie’s high chair, and the flowers by the sink.

“You really don’t know, do you?” he asks, some sympathy in play.

“Eddie, we did stretches!” Junie says from your arms.

You offer her to him. He wraps her up and makes it look easy, baby on his hip. Quick kiss pressed to her cheek. “Yeah? Mom’s got you doing yoga again?”

You’re drawn to the box like a magnet.

“What is it?” you ask.

“It’s for you, babe,” he says easily, smiling as Junie tucks a curl behind his ear. “It’s all for you. You can open it.”

“You sure?”

“Of course I am. Open it up.”

You take the box’s lid off, lips parting in surprise. Happy Mother’s Day has been written in white writing against a baby pink cake. It’s simple, without frills, but it’s sweet and it looks soft to the touch.

“Is it today?” you ask.

“Yeah, babe. I can’t believe you didn’t know.” Eddie shifts Junie forward to stop her from tangling his hair. “That’s a lie, I totally can. Quick, come here.”

You slot into his side, expecting the kiss, but not the second one against the apple of your cheek. “Happy Mother’s Day. I would’ve been here sooner, but I had to make sure my mom knew I was thinking about her first.” He taps your noses together before pulling away. “You’re the best mom ever, so. Me and June got you some presents. No biggie.”

“Junie got me this?”

“Who do you think wrote on the cake?”

Eddie pretends to eat Junie’s hand, to her delight. You feel the cardboard of your box between your fingers, no attempt made to hide the achingly huge smile that’s taking shape. “And the bags for me too?” you ask.

Eddie can hear it in your voice. “The bag’s for you too, of course. You're the mother.” He snarfs against Junie’s wrist. “Um-num-num.”

You drag the bag from Junie’s blue and orange high chair across the table to peek inside. It’s a flat, paper bag from a clothing store, so the contents surprise you for being much more than clothes. Your smile gets worse with each item unveiled from its tissue paper depths: a humble box of fancy chocolates, a bag of your favourite chips, a small black box and a pair of pyjamas wrapped together with a ribbon.

You hesitate with the box, hand atop it, head tilting toward your shoulder. Eddie doesn’t notice your hesitation, or at least he’s pretending not to, pretending to nibble Junie’s sleeve where she’s laughing it up in his arms.

“What’s in the box?”

He looks up quickly. Not pretending. “Oh, that’s– If you don’t like it, I can take it back. It’s nothing crazy.”

“You’re proposing.” The box is shaped for a bracelet or necklace rather than a ring.

He nods severely. “Will you do me the honour?”

You laugh softly and line your thumb to the box’s seam. It opens on a tense hinge, clicking into place.

It’s a bracelet made up of silver beads. There’s a small flat-circle charm between the beads, that, upon closer inspection, harbours two hearts, one bigger than the other.

“It’s nothing fancy, okay? So if it breaks you won’t feel bad. It’s real silver though, you don’t have to take it off much if you don’t want to. I don’t know. I think it’s, like, a reminder of her when you’re not together.” Junie whines, encouraging Eddie to press another peck to her cheek as he hugs her tighter, and takes a step closer to you. “If you don’t like it, it’s really fine.”

You slip the bracelet onto your wrist. It goes without saying you’ve never had much jewellery.

Taking his face into your hands is easy. Holding him tenderly is second nature. “Thank you,” you say, eye to eye, willing it to sink in deeply. “I love you.”

“Yeah, I love you, too. And Junie loves you more than anybody. You deserve to know that.”

“I do,” you say, glad when he puckers up for a kiss. You kiss his pouting lips misaligned to nobody’s worry, adding another for thankfulness, and a third just because. He’s smirking before you’ve so much as pulled away.

“And thank you!” you add saccharinely, stroking Junie’s cheek, though the idea that she had anything to do with your gifts is funny. “I wouldn’t get to be a mommy if it wasn’t for you. I love you.”

“Love you,” Junie says distractedly, more interested by the stud earring in Eddie’s lobe.

He gives you both a soft, soft look, startlingly yards away from his previous smirking. “You’re the best girls in the world.”

“You're the best boyfriend.” You curve an arm around him to steal him and press your face into his arm. “I love you,” you say, smushed. “Thank you so much for everything. I love you.”

“I love you, too,” he says.

“I really love you.”

“Yeah,” he says, his nose touching your head as he cranes his head down to you. “It’s okay, sweetheart, I love you too. You deserve it, alright?”

Junie pats your head. “Love love love you. Kiss?”

She almost blinds you trying to kiss you in the eye as you turn your face toward her, but it’s nice.

[philodendronforming]

Allamanda plant

The Allamanda plant is an evergreen perennial flowering plant that belongs to the family Apocynaceae. They are indigenous to America. Some varieties of allamanda yields colorful flowers. Many varieties of allamanda produce yellow flowers and few varieties of allamanda produce pink flowers. Allamanda plant usually grows up to 20 feet. Allamanda plants are classified based on their stem position such as creeper, climbers, and shrubs. It is used for traditional medicines to treat jaundice, malaria, and liver tumors.

Allamanda varieties

Majorly two varieties of Allamanda are throughout the world.

Allamanda cathartica:

Allamanda cathartica is has another name called a golden trumpet. This variety produces dark yellow flowers. And this plant grows up to 15 feet tall.

Allamanda blanchetti

Allamanda blanchetti is also known as purple allamanda. This variety produces a deep purple flower. And this plant grows up to 10 feet tall.

 

How to grow allamanda plant

Allamanda shrub and allamanda creeper both are propagated through stem cuttings. Initially choose a healthy matured mother plant and cut below the leaf node. While transplanting remove all the leaves from the bottom portion of the stem and leave two couple of leaves at the apical portion and place them in a pot. After 3-5 weeks roots start to generate.

Soil

Allamanda survives in sandy loam soil. Excess water logging is not good for allamanda creepers. So, the PH range of soil should remain between 6.0 to 7.0. Induce the soil with organic matters like cow manure, and goat manure which provides additional nutrients to the plant. And mulching above the soil to maintain its moisture level.

Flower

Allamanda creepers produce funnel-shaped flowers with five overlapped petals that spread outwards. There are a few varieties such as allamanda cream, allamanda chocolate, and allamanda Indonesia sunset. And popular varieties of allamanda flowers are allamanda cathartica and allamanda blanchetti.

Fertilizers

Give NPK fertilizer at proper ratio in the gap of 2-4 weeks. fertilizer is given at the base of the plants.

Pruning

Early spring is better for pruning just before new growth begins. To maintain overall health and appearance pruning is an essential thing that removes all diseased, dead, and damaged branches.

Usually, allamanda grows vigorously so, prune it according to your desired size.

Choose green go wild

Blog created by: www.santhionlineplants.com

[pricegouge]

shovel talk

it's not even six in the morning and yet the shovel grates across the walkway, grit of pebbles beneath its steel edge scraping and catching. it balks in unsteady hands, tries again with another drawn out rasp before meeting the wall of the bank. trembling as it rises, it spills a portion its spare load back across the pavers before being tipped meticulously atop the mountain of snow that runs parallel the walk. she lets the shovel fall carelessly ahead of her and grits her teeth, rises an inch and scoots forward minutely, dragging the cheap lawn chair she's been perched on along by a hand shoved between her knees, gripping the seat. it scrapes just as much as the shovel, heavy with implication. she's not even wearing a proper jacket, just a flannel over a zip up hoodie, the wool weave of her button up already beaded with melted snow.

she looks ornery and mulish, but so are you and you can't just keep walking past.

clear blue eyes turn on you when you call to her, ask if you can help. her hands might shake but her gaze is level, taking you in from head to toe before scooting herself along another inch. "shouldn't be doin' that," she advises, voice croaky in her old age.

"neither should you," you counter, nodding at her makeshift mobility aid. it teeters when she turns to chuckle at you, though she hides it in a cough. stubborn old bat, you can already tell.

"anyway my son will be here soon."

pursing your lips, you look the walk over properly. the poor woman's already done over half of it - how late is the son exactly? but you don't comment on it, step closer when her shovel catches on a shelf of ice instead. "give it here, please," you offer rather diplomatically. she frowns apprehensively but does as told, shuffling her seat back a smidge to give you room to work. it takes a couple tries but you catch the bottom edge of the ice, ply it back and huck it over the bank easily enough. it thunks as it sinks through the snow, a real ice breaker.

"and here i'd pegged you for some soft, sweet thing," she laughs, sheepish.

"must've loosened it for me," you shrug, and turn to finish the walk while she's distracted, laughing herself into a minor coughing fit. "should you go inside?" you offer, unsure if it's a good suggestion seeing as that would leave some strange woman alone on her front lawn.

thankfully she just waves you off as she calms herself down, heavy breaths clouding around her like the smoke that's probably catching up to her. "can't. gotta take credit for your work when my son gets here."

"oh, i see how it is," you snark, and purposefully leave a good quarter inch on the paver, a base level that will freeze solid soon enough and create another sheet of ice for her to struggle with in the future.

she just eyes you, thin eyebrow pulled low on a once-heavy brow. she may be old and frail but it's a sort of sternness that doesn't dull with age and you can only smile to yourself as you fix it. no wonder her son still comes by to help. "he running late?" you ask conversationally, nod up the path where she's already done most of the work by way of explanation when she hmm's at you.

"oh, no. he'll be two hours early, probably. which is why i'm out here three hours early. a woman's got to have her pride, after all."

you nod along as if that's reasonable. "well what's he gonna do when he gets here, then?"

"fix my water heater," she gripes. "say, you wouldn't happen to know anything about that, would you?"

it earns an unladylike snort from you, but you don't think she's the type to mind. "'fraid not."

the stoop is easy enough, just a quick swipe to clean the steps. you note the name above the door with some interest, a misplaced desire to keep tags on her, come back and check maybe. "got any salt, mrs. price?"

she motions you toward the open garage behind her but sticks a hand out for help as you pass. her grip is surprisingly strong on your forearm, the fingers of her other hand digging into your tricep almost cruelly when she uses you to drag herself up. you snatch the lawn chair up before she can even try it, nod toward the garage questioningly.

"next to the overhead, please," she agrees, and you find the bucket of salt right beside it, an empty coffee can already filled and ready for dispensing. when you emerge from the garage, there's a truck parked out front.

"give me that," mrs. price hisses and you jump to find her so close, already snatching the can from your fingers. old bat can still move.

the driver's door creaks when it closes. you can only see the top of a blue beanie from over the roof of it but mrs. price doesn't wait to see him before hollering at her son. "i thought you wouldn't be here until nine!?"

tall and burly with his mother's same stern brow, price junior rounds the corner of his truck and frowns between the two of you."and i thought you didn't like when other people shoveled for you," he counters before tacking on a quick hi pet towards you.

"hi -."

"who's shoveled for me?" she demands, motioning up the walk with another spray of salt. "did this all on my own."

he hums as he comes closer, boots crunching over the thin dusting of snow that still coats the driveway. you sincerely hope mrs. price didn't shovel all that, but judging by the banks that line the drive you suspect a service was likely hired. why they couldn't take an extra two minutes to clear an old lady's walkway you'd never know. you think maybe the son is wondering the same, the way he's inspecting the short stretch critically, but when he opens his mouth it's not at all meant to insult the snow removal service. "you're losing your touch, woman."

you're unsure who's more offended, yourself or his mother. "what's wrong with it?" you blurt, unheeding of the way mrs. price elbows you again.

"i've done a fine job," she supplies, trying to save face.

he just tilts his head at her patronizingly, rocks up onto his toes to appear unnecessarily bigger. "you've forgotten we're expecting more snowfall soon. you'll want to widen the walk to push the banks back, make it easier to shovel out the next storm."

this ass. "well if you'd wanted it done right, you should have shown up on time," you huff, unreasonably defensive of the quick job you'd done.

he's still got that insufferable expression on when he turns to you, but you think you see an edge of something playful glimmering in his clear blue eyes, that same expression his mother had worn when she'd asked if you could perhaps also take his job fixing her water heater. "'on time' would be hours from now," he reminds you. "would you have had this all fixed by then?"

the worst part is, calling him out on the insult would mean admitting you'd done it, and you're suddenly very aligned with this man's mother re: his versus her pride. instead you turn his own words back on him, leaning close to your new friend to ask her if she's going to take that.

she chuckles. "oh, don't mind him. john here's just scared because he knows his job is at risk."

you watch john frown between the two of you, the furrow between his brows deepening in a way which brings you too much pleasure. part of you wants to stay, keep carving away at his pride, but you're now running late for work and you still have a few blocks to walk. "well, it was lovely to meet you, mrs. price," you say with an overly formal shake of her hand.

"pleasure doing business," she agrees with a wry smile. "see you again bright and early next snow storm."

john doesn't budge to let you pass, instead squints down at you in open assessment. you note his cheeks are rosy with the cold and you briefly hope he gets stuck outside fixing the damn walk, cold wind stinging the chapped apples of cheeks which his ridiculous beard doesn't quite cover. they scrunch up when he affects a smile, lend a sort of disarmingly childish quality to the patronizing tone he still can't quite drop. it just pisses you off even more. "didn't actually catch your name," he prompts, gloved hand extended, as if attempting to continue the ruse.

"that's because i didn't give it," you chirp in your best customer service voice. you brush past him when he can only blink in confusion, the contrast between your words and your tone evidently too much for him to process so early in the morning.

"she usually pays me with breakfast if you want to stick around!" he calls after you, far too late to start acting sweet.

you nearly slip in your haste to spin around and fix him with an overly saccharine smile. "oh, i already ate. got here at five," you lie, just to watch his face crumble into genuine concern.

behind him, his mother's thin mouth twists into a cheshire grin and you stumble away before she can solidify any real plans.

too bad she's just as stubborn and ornery as you.

too bad john's worse than both of you.

[stevie-petey]

episode nine: the piggyback

“It’s always been you,” Steve whispers, lips pressed above your brow. “The six kids. The family I’ve always wanted. Traveling the countryside. My dream, it’s always had you in it.” You laugh, breathless and in love. “I know, honey.” Sickly sweet warmth cascades through you. Your lips find Steve’s, you kiss the smile off his face. He lets you. “I’ve always known it was going to be the two of us.”

Summary: operation save hawkins is a go. youre eagle one, steve is currently doing that, eddie is youd be lying if you said you havent thought about it, nancy is it happened once in a dream, robin is if you had to pick a girl, and dustin is eagle two. what could possibly go wrong ? spoiler alert: everything. literally everything goes wrong. might as well break a few promises while youre at it. for the plot. but at least its over, right? .... right?

Rating: general, some swearing, violence

Warnings: fem!reader, use of y/n, cursing, weapons, blood, death and gore, injuries, lowkey suicidal thoughts

Words: 8.5k (we broke tradition where the last chapter is the longest but tbh this is probs for the best)

Before you swing in: oh my god this is the end. i am. very very emotional rn. this story is my baby and i dont know what im going to do now that its done. i cant even write an in between chapter because we still dont have season 5 content :((( im gonna miss writing this story, and i will absolutely go crazy waiting for season 5 so i can write again. these next few months will be ROUGH but !!!! thank you guys so so so much for reading. all your comments/reblogs/kudos/likes have meant the world to me. im truly the luckiest girl ever :') for now, and for the final time... enjoy !

–

It’s pitch black outside. All around you is darkness. The sun is long gone, its golden warmth no longer present, retreating into the treeline as if afraid of what the night will bring. 

You’re afraid, too.

Everyone stands around Nancy. The group is quiet as you await whatever she has to say. When she turns to face you, her voice is leveled, calm, but her hands shake. 

She’s afraid, too.

“Okay,” Nancy exhales deeply. “I wanna run through it one more time.” She looks at Robin, prompting her to recite everything back. “Phase one?”

“We meet Erica at the playground.” Robin responds. “She’ll signal Max and Lucas when we’re ready.”

“Phase two.”

You step forward. “Max and I will bait Vecna. When he goes after one of us, he’ll go into his trance. If he chooses Max, we’ll go onto phase three together.”

“And…” Nancy swallows, looking away. “And if he chooses you?”

It’s Steve who steps forward this time. He stands tall, brave, but his voice shakes. “Then I’ll stay with her, walkman ready, while you and Robin go on your own.”

You grab his hand, squeezing it. He squeezes back. 

“Speaking of phase three.” Dustin clears his throat, weary eyes never leaving you. “Me and Eddie wil draw the bats away.”

“Carefully,” you look pointedly at your brother. “Right?”

He rolls his eyes at you while Nancy continues speaking. “Okay, phase four.”

“We head into Vecna’s newly bat-free lair and…” Robin holds up a molotov cocktail. The liquid sloshes around. The scent of gasoline still stings your nose from when you helped her pour it into the bottles earlier. “Flambe.” 

“Nobody moves onto the next phase until we’ve all copied. Nobody deviates from the plan, no matter what.” Nancy reiterates, looking around the RV. Her eyes linger on you, cautious, almost doubtful. She trusts you. She knows she trusts you. But she also knows your heart and the lengths you’ll go to save others. 

Nancy has always admired your selflessness, but she’s also always seen it as your greatest strength and weakness. A coin, two sides. Now, tonight, she has to hope that you’ll follow the plan. Even if it means leaving Max behind if she’s the one Vecna chooses.

Your eyes harden when you realize what Nancy is thinking. Without saying anything, you nod at her. The jut of your chin tells her that you’ll be fine. That she needs to trust you. 

Eddie’s trailer is only a few yards away, but the walk to it feels like decades. Steve guides and Nancy is close behind him. You stay back, walking beside Dustin. Your shoulders brush. His presence grounds you, reassures you that you will make it through the night. 

Dustin, sensing your fear, reaches for your hand. He extends his warmth to you, silently promising you that he will always be here. There isn’t anything left to say.

Steve opens Eddie’s door, turning the lights on and tossing his backpack to the ground. He eyes the rope that connects the trailer to the Upside Down, getting ready for the part of the plan that you honestly really hate.

“Be careful, please.” You urge him, uncomfortable that he has to be the first one to return to the hell that is the Upside Down. It makes sense, he’s the only one able to climb the rope up, but still. You’ve had shit luck these last few days.

“I’m always careful, angel.” Steve winks at you, rolling his sleeves up. “Here goes nothing.”

He climbs up quickly, years of being an athlete being put to use. Everyone watches anxiously. However, when Steve crosses through the gate and lands with a cheesy flip, you and Robin share a disgusted look. 

“What, does he want us to applaud?” She scoffs.

You shake your head. “Sometimes I think he has an imaginary audience in his head.”

“Do you think they ever boo him?” “Not like we do.”

Nancy covers her mouth, muffling her laugh, and Robin snorts. You smile at the two of them, momentarily forgetting what’s to come.

“Alright,” Steve shouts up, tossing down Eddie’s old mattress. “Let’s go.”

You take a deep breath, steadying your nerves. Wiping your hands on your jeans, you place them on the rope and prepare for the inevitable torture that this will be. You’re pretty sure you’re bleeding again. 

“A little help?” You ask the others, motioning towards your injured leg and shoulder. “Sorta out of commission.”

Eddie grips your waist while Robin and Nancy gently hike your legs up. Together the three of them are able to carry you almost all the way up. Breathing through your nose, you grit your teeth and climb the rest of the way, wincing every few seconds. The pain is unbearable.

You really hope you don’t sound as pathetic as you look.

When you land on the mattress, small, black dots litter your vision. “I think I’m gonna throw up.”

Steve is already bending down, helping you up with ease. “And ruin Munson’s tidy home?”

Woozy from pain, you bat Steve away and wait for the others to join. Nancy comes next, then Robin, then Eddie and Dustin. Weapons get tossed down. Bodies land on the mattress with finalizing thuds. 

Outside, it’s just as cold as you remember it. Eddie and Dustin stay in front of the trailer. This is as far as they’re going. They aren’t leaving.

Roughly you pull at your brother. His body lands against yours, but the kiss your press to his forehead is gentle. You haven’t done this since he was a kid. Dustin flings his arms around you, nearly knocking all the air from your lungs. He squeezes you tight, as terrified as you are, and you feel tears in your eyes.

“We’ll come home,” your whisper is hoarse, rough and desperate. You bury your face in his mess of curls and kiss his head again. “The house won’t be empty.”

Dustin sniffles, too weak to hide his tears. “I love you.”

“I love you, too.” Your throat burns. How can you possibly leave him? 

Vision blurry with tears, Eddie manages to catch your attention as you cling onto your brother. The teen nods, lifting his pinky in the air to wave it at you, reminding you of his promise to you. He’ll protect Dustin. He swore it.

Reluctantly, you pull away from Dustin and wipe your face. “Please don’t die. Who knows what Mews’ ghost would do to you?” Dustin laughs wetly, wiping his own face as well. The thought of your childhood cat haunting his grave is enough to lessen the sting of letting you go. 

“If things here start to go south, I mean, at all, you abort.” Steve breaks the remorseful silence. He doesn’t want anyone getting hurt. He doesn’t want you losing anyone else. “Draw the attention of the bats, keep ‘em busy for a minute or two. We’ll take care of Vecna. Don’t try to be a hero or anything.”

His tone is harsh, but you know Steve means well. You also don’t want Dustin and Eddie anywhere near danger. As long as they stick to the plan, they’ll be fine. They have the quickest escape route and the most amount of protection.

“What Steve is trying to say is that you two better climb back through the gate the moment anything bad happens.” You look at the two boys. They stare at you, grim faced. “I mean it, okay? Go through the gate, don’t try anything else.”

“We’re the decoys, we get it.” Dustin rolls his eyes. “Don’t worry. You and Steve can be the heroes.”

“Look at us,” Eddie nudges your brother’s shoulder. “We’re not heroes.”

Your stomach twists. You hate how Dustin views his and Eddie’s position. They aren’t just decoys, they’re heroes in your eyes. They’re facing an army of bats all on their own, but you don’t dare say this out loud, afraid to encourage them. 

“Just…” your mouth is dry. “Just be safe, alright?”

“We will.” Eddie swallows. Then he pauses, his gaze darkens slightly. Looking back at you, he breathes out, “And make him pay.”

You and Steve look at each other. So much of Eddie’s life has been ruined by Vecna. Even if you all make it out of here alive, killing Vecna, there’s no guarantee that Hawkins will accept him back into the town. You understand the anger that resides within Eddie. The desire to kill the very thing that has destroyed everything he loves. 

You bite your lip. You’ve never made a promise you haven’t been able to keep. But this time you’re facing something bigger than anything you could’ve ever imagined. All this time you’ve tried convincing yourself that you’ll win. That everything will work out.

But you remember last summer. 

The mall. The fire and the deaths. Hopper. Billy. The power Vecna seems to hold, his claws that have sunk into you and Max. His threat to Nancy. The danger that Hawkins is in, up above where your mother sleeps peacefully. Unaware of what you’re sacrificing for her.

This is more than anything you’ve ever dealt with before. But a promise built on an unsteady foundation is all you can give Eddie. 

“Well will,” you echo his earlier promise.

Eddie smiles at you. The one you’ve grown to like, even find charming. Slanted and mischievous. The glint in his eyes never dimmed, even after everything. Through it all, he remained kind.

This is how you’ll always remember him.

– 

The further you walk away from Eddie and Dustin, the harder you have to force yourself to keep going. Your body is heavy, the weight slowing you down, pleading with you to go back. None of this feels right.

Steve’s hand on the small of your back is the only thing keeping your heart from collapsing. Robin’s smile helps, too. 

“You’d think this place gets less creepy the second time around.” She says, stepping over a root. “But I’m still pretty damn creeped out.”

“It isn’t the most pleasant place.” You agree. 

Robin steps over another root, looking back at you as she does so. “At least I’m here to protect you, Y/N. Pretty brave, don’t you think?” “Hey,” Steve warns. “Watch it.”

You knock your shoulder against his and smile apologetically at Robin. “Like always, I think you’re the bravest.”

She smiles proudly, throwing her fist in the air in excitement. However, after stepping over a root for what feels like the tenth time, her heart starts to pound. Looking around, all the trees suddenly look the same. Have you been here before?

“Not to alarm anyone, but I swear we’ve seen this tree before.”

“That’s impossible.” Nancy dimisses.

You agree. “We’re in the woods. All we’re going to see are trees.”

Robin tries to calm herself down, but ultimately fails. There are so many components to the plan, so many ways it can go wrong. “I mean, that would suck, right? Veca destroys the world because we got lost in the woods.”

“We aren’t lost–” You try to reason with her, but Robin is already running away in a panic. You scream at her, terrified of losing her. “Robin!”

“I’ll be back!”

You start to stumble after her. “Why does everyone want to separate?” You huff out, nearly tripping. “There’s safety in numbers! Come back!”

Nancy, seeing your fear for your friend and horrible coordination skills, steps in front of you. “I’ll go after her. You stay here with Steve.”

And then she’s gone, disappearing into the mass of branches alongside Robin. 

“They’ll be fine,” Steve reassures you, grabbing your hand. “They’re tough, even if Robin may lose her mind sometimes when she’s distressed.”

“I think we’re all slowly losing our minds.” You laugh, bitter.

Steve tightens his hand around yours. The two of you walk in silence for a while. The thunder above you serves as a reminder of where you are. The darkness is a threat. But you’re here, together. That’s all that Steve cares about in the end.

“Did you really mean what you said? Back at the cemetery?” He asks, clearing his throat in unease. The question has been on his mind ever since he heard your pleas for Vecna to take you instead of Max. 

He thinks of how adamant you’ve been to protect her. How you’re only here with him right now because Max wouldn’t let you blindly walk towards your death. 

The question strikes deep guilt within you, yet an exhaustion follows. You’re ashamed of how desperately you pleaded to die. Steve and Dustin had to hear you beg for your death. Lucas, too. 

You’re ashamed. Yet you wouldn’t take it back.

“I did.” You finally say. “I wanted him to take me.”

Steve already knew you’d say this. He’d been expecting anger to follow, to be furious with you for sacrificing yourself knowing he’d be left to pick up the pieces. 

But seeing the way you set your jaw and stare ahead, seeing the resolve that masks your face, the acceptance of your decisions, Steve can’t bring himself to be angry. Not at you. 

This is who you are.

“I won’t let anything happen to you.” Steve promises you again. He will always promise this to you. Over and over again, he will die saying these words to you. “I-I can’t lose you. I refuse to lose you.”

Your eyes remain downcast. 

“I know that this is how you love,” he grabs your jacket, begging you to look at him. “I know that I can’t let you lose the ones you love. Dustin, Max, Robin, Lucas, or El or Mike or Nancy. Hell, even Jonathan. I won’t let you lose them, but I won’t lose you, either.”

He understands, then. The selflessness within you and its selfish ways. Yet he doesn’t shy away or hiss at its venom. Steve opens his hands and allows the selfishness to stay there, warming it with his skin. 

You kiss him. Surprising both him and you, yet you melt together. Steve circles his arms around your waist, pulls you flush against him, and in the cynicism that surrounds you, there is still love. 

“Thank you,” you breathe against his lips. He’s wonderful. He loves you wholly, without any faults. Your kindness and its destructive ways; he accepts it all. “Thank you for understanding.”

And this, you believe, is the most selfless act a person can do. Steve’s understanding of why you need to do this, to sacrifice your life for Max’s, even if it means he risks losing you. 

“I should be the one thanking you,” Steve kisses you again, softer this time. Slower. 

You pull back, confused. “Why?” He pulls you in again. “I mean, I don’t know if you know this, but I was a pretty huge asshole back then.” You laugh softly, and Steve knows he’s exactly where he’s meant to be. “You saw this good in me that I didn’t know existed. Right off the bat you saw through me, expecting more from me than anyone else ever did. I wouldn’t be who I am now without you. ”

“Steve…”

“And I’m sorry for thinking you didn’t see a future with me.” He continues, unable to stop now. This is everything he’s wanted to tell you ever since you allowed him into your life. “I know it’s stupid now, apologizing for our fight a week ago after the hell we’ve been through since then, but…”

He can’t believe he almost let something as small as a misalignment of where you’ll be a year from now jeopardize what you have. There is a string that attaches Steve to you, it brought you to him and tied your heart to his. 

“I meant what I said, Y/N.” Steve’s forehead presses against yours. “I’d wait forever if it means I can have forever with you.”

His eyes shine down at you, brown and warm. The honey you fell in love with when he pretended not to know your name, all to get you to laugh. 

“When your head went under the water, that night at Lover’s Lake, I thought you were dead.” Your voice shakes, remembering the fear that choked you. “For those thirty seconds, I thought you were dead, and it almost killed me.”

It was then that you realized how truly you can’t lose Steve. You’ve always known this, but to have his soul ripped from yours so suddenly, so permanently, there are no words to express the agony that poisoned you. 

Losing him would be the one thing you’d never recover from.  

“I don’t ever want to live through those thirty seconds again,” you’re crying. Steve is, too. He wipes a tear that falls, strokes your cheek, and you can’t bear the thought of a world without his touch. “I want forever with you, too. We’ll figure it out, but I’m not losing you. You have to be in my life, in whatever capacity. Whether you’re in a small, cramped apartment with me in New York or in Hawkins, waiting for me to come home.”

Your breath hitches. To think that a childish argument almost separated him from you. 

“As long as we come home to one another, it doesn’t matter.” 

Steve is quiet after you’ve said all this, and for a moment you’re scared you’ve said too much. Revealed too much of yourself, convinced him he’s gotten it all wrong, but then he cradles your face. His hands are soft, tender, the weight of them familiar against your skin. 

He kisses your forehead, and you exhale the last of your uncertainty. All that is left within your lungs is love. 

“It’s always been you,” Steve whispers, lips pressed above your brow. “The six kids. The family I’ve always wanted. Traveling the countryside. My dream, it’s always had you in it.”

You laugh, breathless and in love. “I know, honey.” Sickly sweet warmth cascades through you. Your lips find Steve’s, you kiss the smile off his face. He lets you. “I’ve always known it was going to be the two of us.”

Steve smiles, wide and bashful, and you know that this is where you’re meant to be, too.

“Hey, guys!” Robin breaks through the treeline, running back with Nancy right behind her. “Awesome news!”

“We aren’t lost.” Nancy cuts to the chase. “We think the Creel house is up ahead.”

“Well, what are we waiting for?” You step out of Steve’s arms, though your hand remains intertwined with his. “Let’s go face imminent doom.”

Nancy huffs out a laugh and Robin winces, though Steve squeezes your hand and is the first one to start walking. Together, the five of you descend deeper into the woods.

Unsurprisingly, the Creel house is even more terrifying in the Upside Down. Bats surround it, their screeches stinging your ears. Lightning flashes a deep, blood red and the thunder that follows causes your heart to drop.

You stand at the crest of the hill. There’s a light below you, its glow pure in the abandoned park where it resides. The same park that you told Erica to hide in as she waited for Max and Lucas to take their place. The light flashes.

It’s time for phase two.

– 

“Max is moving into phase two: distracting Vecna. Y/N, get ready.” Erica’s voice carries into the Upside Down.

Nancy, Robin, and Steve all turn to you. Grief and longing taint their faces. Your walkman hangs from Steve’s hand. He grips it tightly. Tension coats the air, nearly suffocating you; you can’t run anymore. 

No one says anything as you carefully lower yourself to the ground. It’s cold beneath you. Hard, unforgiving. You cross your legs, ignoring the deep ache of your wounds as you do so. You close your eyes. The storm is coming. 

“Take the bait, you son of a bitch.” You hear Nancy whisper. 

You or Max.

Take me, you silently beg. Take. Me. 

Silence settles over the group. Everyone waits with bated breath. No one knows who Vecna will choose. 

Steve stands nervously behind you, his hand on your walkman at all times. 

Just take me. Kill me instead of her. If you’ve watched me for so long, then just get it over with. Don’t make this easy, don’t be such a fucking coward.

The words echo in your head. Taunting Vecna, hoping their malice will be what saves Max. That he’ll choose you in the end, give you what you want. You’ll do whatever, say whatever you need, if it means Max will come home. 

Something pricks your skin. An uncomfortable, electric sensation coats your entire body. 

Vecna. 

For a moment you think he’s listened. You can feel his presence, the weight of him shadows in your mind. He’s here, he’s spared you mercy after prolonged cruelty. He’s chosen you and Max will survive. Her blue eyes will remain bright, her body alive.

Then it all comes crashing down.

“He chose Max. I repeat, he chose Max.” Erica says, voice cutting through the delusions you allowed yourself to get lost in.

Your ears are ringing. Somewhere in your body there is still oxygen that has not escaped you, but you cannot find it. He chose her. 

Robin radios Dustin and Eddie, you think she’s instructing them to move onto phase three, but her words are jumbled in your mind and you can’t hear anything besides the screaming in your head. 

He chose her.

“Y/N,” someone roughly grabs your shoulder. “Y/N, look at me.”

Nancy. She’s in front of you, kneeled down. She grabs your arms, her grip vicious. Her mouth moves. She’s saying something, the way her chest heaves makes you think she’s yelling.

Is she yelling at you?

“Y/N!” The ringing doesn’t subside, but you manage to look at Nancy. “We need to go!”

She’s right. You need to leave. There isn’t time to remember how to breathe. You know this. Somewhere in the distance there’s music. Guitar rifts through the wind, Eddie’s melody enrages the bats that swarm the Creel house. They’re gone in seconds, flying towards the sound, and you need to stick to the plan. 

Your head moves shakily, managing a small nod, and Nancy yanks you up with Steve’s help. She looks at Robin, and suddenly her and Steve grab your arms and force you to walk alongside Nancy. They aren’t aggressive as they do so, nor are they cruel. But you can’t afford to shut down. Not now.

Max won’t survive if you do. There’s no time to hesitate. No turning back.

You hope she finds the light.

Lightning flashes all around you, illuminating the Creel house as you stand before it. Steve opens the door first. The vines that cover the ground writhe at the disturbance. He shines his flashlight, his heart drops when he realizes just how infested the house is.

“Shit,” he breathes out. The floor is virtually impossible to walk across. “That’s not good.”

Then, because he has no other option, Steve starts jumping to any safe spot he can land on. He looks ridiculous as he does so, but for once you aren’t focused on that. Instead, you stare down at your injured leg and wince.

“Great,” your thigh is currently more blood than flesh. Jumping on it is quite literally the last thing you should be doing. “This is gonna hurt.”

“At least you have good balance?” Robin offers, though she doesn’t believe what she’s saying either. 

Nancy grabs your hand, then Robin’s. She looks at the two of you and smiles, trying her best to look reassuring. “It’s okay. You guys got this.”

The first jump hurts, setting the remaining nerves in your upper thigh on fire, but you can’t afford to scream or collapse. You have to remind yourself that the vines are interconnected. One wrong step, one miscalculated fall, and they’ll wrap viciously around you. 

It’s a slow, tedious process trying to get to the attic. The stairs are the hardest part. The vines twist with every step, slithering across the walls. Steve does his best to help you, offering you his hand for support, but you both hold your breath every time your foot slips. 

When you make it to the attic door, everyone readies their weapons. In one hand are your knives, in the other a molotov cocktail. Steve spins you around, digging into the backpack for an ax while Nancy grabs her gun. 

Your foot lifts, about to step forward, before the ground beneath you shakes violently. The entire house trembles, and Steve barely has enough time to catch everyone as all of you struggle not to fall. 

“Are you fucking kidding me?” You sneer, holding desperately onto Steve. This is all some sick, cruel joke. A poorly timed rupture in your rapture.

But then the house stills. Everything is quiet. You, Nancy, Steve, and Robin stare at one another, panting. Nobody moves. There’s a clarity in the air, a false sense of security. 

That’s when the first vine latches onto Robin. 

It folds around her ankle before tearing her away from you. She screams, so do you, and her body is thrown against the wall as more vines encase her limbs. They move fast, snake like, and everything unravels after that. 

“Steve! Y/N!” She screeches, terrified. “Nancy!” 

You’re at her side in a second, stabbing at the vines. Your knuckles are white as you grip your knives, your biceps strain. You aren’t letting them take Robin from you. “Hold on!”

Your teeth grit together in exertion, sawing as fast as you can. Steve and Nancy are on the other side, throwing their axes as hard furiously into the vines. But nothing works, they’re too thick, and you don’t realize that one of the vines has wrapped around your arm until it’s too late.

“Y/N!” Steve screams when your body gets lifted into the air. You try to fight it, to pry your arm away, but your legs give out and soon a second vine wraps around your other arm. Then a third, a fourth and a fifth. 

In seconds you’re pressed against the wall. 

“Steve!” Screams are ripped from your throat, you try to call out, to beg for your life, but the more you move, the tighter the vines constrict.

Steve calls after you, ramming into the wall as he tries to cut you loose. “I got you! I–”

The ax he’s holding gets yanked back by a vine. He’s launched into the air, body landing harshly next to yours several feet up the wall. He screams again, but his voice dies when a vine cuts off his breathing and chokes him.

Another vine coils around your throat and suddenly you can’t breathe. Your airway constricts. Sobbing, you try to reach out to Steve. You’re inches apart, his fingers are so close to yours that you can feel their warmth, but you can’t reach him

All you want to do is hold him. 

Nancy falls to the ground, the last victim. She gets thrown to the opposite wall, it all happens so fast that she doesn’t even have time to scream. 

Your vision blurs. You close your eyes.

This is how you’ll die. 

Far away from your home. No one will find your body down here. Dustin will come looking for you and he’ll face the same fate. He will die trying to find you. Vecna will destroy everything you’ve ever loved.

Your lungs burn, fighting for breath that they cannot get. Blood rushes to your head. You take your last breath. The sound of it echoes in your ears. 

Everything goes black. 

Your mother will be worried about you. 

I’m sorry.

– 

There’s a body beneath yours. 

It groans, gasping for air, but your vision is dark and you can’t see anything. Pain erupts in your wrist. You try to move it, but the sting makes you nauseous. 

There’s coughing all around you, but you’re too weak to suck the air back in. Everyone cowers for breath. The vines rescind, unwrapping themselves from your skin. There’s a body beneath you, and a gentle hand cups your cheek, you know it’s Steve.

“Breathe, angel.” His voice cracks, wounded. It hurts to speak, but he needs you to breathe. “Y/N, you have to breathe.”

Everything is numb. Your lungs are empty; you can’t remember how to fill them. Steve coaxes your lips open, blows air in your face, does whatever he can think of to get you to breathe, before finally, miraculously, you inhale sharply and begin coughing. 

“Are you alright?” Steve asks you softly, rubbing your back as you cough. “It’s okay. Take your time.”

Your throat is raw. It takes everything within you to speak, but you want to. You need to. There’s only one thing you want to say. “We have to make him pay.”

The anger is back, and Steve’s jaw sets. Vecna has hurt you. He’s hurt everyone you love. He’s chosen Max for his final death and your fury threatens to devour the sanity you have left. You’re tired of his shitty mind games.

It’s like what you promised Eddie: you have to make Vecna pay for what he’s done to you all.

“I don’t believe in a higher power,” Robin rasps, breaking you from your thoughts. “Or divine intervention. But that was a miracle.”

Nancy cocks her gun, already walking towards the attic door. “Then we better not waste it.”

“Phase four.” Steve says, steadying himself against you. 

“Flambe.” Robin finishes. 

You flick your knives out. “Let’s finish this.”

– 

Vecna’s body hangs in the attic, thick, gruesome vines attach him to every crevice. He’s unmoving, eyes closed, and seeing his body up close makes you want to gag. He’s a terrible, vile creature. 

But Dustin had been right: Vecna is in the same trance-like state that El goes into when she uses her powers. 

Without being told to, Robin sets down her bag. All the molotov cocktails are inside. Everyone grabs one, silent. Almost as if you’re all too afraid to break the spell he’s under. You only get one shot at this. 

Steve has the lighter. You hold the first cocktail up, and he looks at you, eyes shining. He asks you if you’re ready, if this is what you really want, and you nod. At your signal, Steve throws the cocktail into the air.

The bottle shatters against Vecna’s body. The flames engulf him, the impact of the blast so powerful that it knocks you and everyone else back. There’s an awful scream as Vecna’s vines begin to snap from the sudden heat.

Your screams mix with his, throwing another cocktail with every ounce of strength you have left in you. You’re bruised and bloodied and exhausted, but you think of Max. You think of Billy and Hopper. Eddie and how his life will never be the same again. You think of Chrissy, Patrick and Fred. All the innocent lives that have been lost for a cause that you despise. 

This is for them. For Hawkins. For your home.

The last of the vines die withering away, and Vecna’s body falls to the ground. He stands, body on fire, and stalks towards you. His eyes are only on you. 

Robin lights the final cocktail and the force of it sends Vecna stumbling back. It’s enough to break through his chest, and he’s weak. Weaker than you’ve ever seen him. 

“Shoot him, Nancy!” You cry, ready for this all to end. 

And she does.

The first blast pierces Vecna’s skin. The second, third, and fourth diminish him to ruined pieces. With every shot, Nancy steps forward, drawing him out, and you’re right behind her. Vecna releases a deep, furious roar. The sound of it sinks into your bones, but you no longer fear him. 

He isn’t worth your fear. 

Nancy raises her gun again. She deals the final blow, sending Vecna through the old, rotted wood of the house into the dark night. He falls, screaming, before everything is quiet. 

The roar of the fire that surrounds you is the only sound. You all stand in the attic, numb. None of it feels real. All that’s left of Vecna is a hole in the house, his body far below, sprawled on the concrete outside. 

“Did we…?” You’re afraid to jinx it, to somehow bring him back. But this has to be it. There isn’t any other way for this to end.

Nancy doesn’t say anything. Instead, she turns around, running back down the stairs. No one has to ask why she does this; you all know. There has to be a body. There must be tangible proof that you’ve won.

Everyone runs outside.

Vecna’s body is gone. 

The only indication that he’d been there is an outline of flames that molt the grass below it. But there is no body.

“No,” you run down the steps, kicking through the grass as you look around. You’re frantic, sprawling on the ground as if you’ll find him buried beneath the ash. “No, where is he?”

You killed him. He was on fire. Nancy put more than five bullets in him. He fell from the attic, a height that alone should’ve killed him. Where the fuck is he? You did everything right. Followed every step of the goddamn plan.

“This doesn’t make any sense.” Something is wrong, you just don’t know what. Steve and the others join you. They’re quiet, fearing what you’re refusing to even consider. Four deaths. That had been all Vecna needed. But you killed him. “None of this makes sense, unless… Unless he–”

No. 

A bell chimes. 

The sound sends you to the ground. Your knees give out, collapsing under the weight of it all. “No!” Your scream is loud, guttural. Tearing from your chest as it tears out your vocal chords. There’s blood in your mouth and you want it to choke you. 

It’s Max. 

He got her. He killed her. 

All of a sudden there are arms around you. Someone carries you back up the stairs, back into the house that has taken everything from you. Steve holds you to his chest as he, Nancy, and Robin stare at the grandfather clock before them. 

It’s alive.

“Four chimes,” Nancy’s voice can barely be heard above your crying. “Max…”

The realization settles upon all of you. You’re in hysterics, no one can calm you down. You’re crying so hard that you can’t breathe, but you don’t want to breathe anymore. 

Grief pours from you in cruel, bitter waves. All you do is cry, barely even registering the earthquake that follows your devastating loss. 

Steve has to set down your crying figure in order to stabilize Robin and Nancy. You curl into yourself on the ground, making yourself as small as possible. There is too much. It’s all too much. Your head digs into the floor beneath you, cutting you, and your tears mix with the blood. 

Over and over again the clock chimes. Like laughter. His laughter. 

He won. 

Steve holds onto the stairs as the earthquake worsens. He has to crawl over to you; you’re rocking back and forth on the ground, your cries heard even above the cracking of the earth. His hand wraps around your weeping body and he won’t let you go. Steve tries to shield you from fallen debris, the world is falling apart, but you don’t move.

You don’t care anymore. 

It’s always your fault in the end. You lose everyone eventually; you get them killed. You can never save them. You will never be able to save them.

She’s gone. 

Max is gone. 

– 

The days pass. You’ll come to remember them in fragments. 

Returning to Eddie’s trailer and finding Dustin crying over his dead body. Prying him away, your tears mixing with your brother’s when you have to tell him that something has happened to Max.

Finding Hawkins in flames. Seeing the deep gashes in the town you grew up in. Stumbling to the Creel house, racing side by side with the ambulances for everyone within the once quiet town, and collapsing again when you find no one there. 

Going home. Your mother’s arms breaking you. 

Steve. How he never left your side throughout it all. Holding Dustin’s hand, unable to stop crying. 

Visiting Max in the hospital the day after. The stench of sterilizer and surgical tools. Seeing her lifeless body still alive. The countless other bodies in the building that died due to your failure. 

When the news broadcasters announce Hawkins to be cursed. The burden that you can’t tell them that they’re right. The guilt seeing your baby brother’s limp. Another scar he will carry with him forever. 

All the hurt in the town. The pain. 

The collapse of your home; they’re calling it an earthquake. 

It all comes to you in flashes. 

Hawkins high school gets converted into a donation center for everyone dishoused. Visiting it is your idea. You can’t bear the thought of spending any more time inside your home knowing there are hundreds of others who no longer have a place to call home. 

“Anything else?” You place your old comics into one of the boxes you’re donating. 

Dustin shakes his head. “That’s the last of it.”

He hasn’t left your side in days. He still keeps your walkman on him, though neither of you know if it’s important anymore. Dustin is afraid that you’ll never put the headphones on again, even if it could save your life. 

You tape the boxes up, carefully writing down their contents on one of the flaps. Your fingers are scabbed. Your wrist is stiff, locking up if you move it too suddenly. 

Books.

Bedding. 

Clothing.

Anything you can offer, you’d give it all to Hawkins if you could.

Steve picks you up. He helps you put the boxes in the back of his car, gentle with you as always. “You guys ready?”

You nod weakly, and Steve kisses your forehead, careful of the cuts that litter it. He helps you into the car. Turns on your favorite songs. Tries to distract you from the wreckage that encases Hawkins as he drives; you keep your head down. You can’t look at any of it. 

Nancy is waiting in her driveway with Robin, a pile of their own boxes at their feet. They greet you kindly, warmly, with an air of fear that you’ll break, and you’re too tired to pretend. 

“I found some more of your old stuff in the attic,” Mrs. Wheeler walks out of the garage, smiling despite the circumstances. “I think it’s lovely you’re doing this, Y/N.”

“We all just want to help,” you politely respond, staying near Steve’s side. 

Nancy picks up one of the stuffed animals in the box and pouts, seeing her old favorite toy. You’re about to tease her, try to laugh, when a pizza delivery van speeds down the block. 

“Someone order a pizza?” Mrs. Wheeler asks.

“Not that I recall.” You mumble, confused as your eyes follow the car. Every business in Hawkins is shut down right now. It doesn’t make sense for there to be a pizza delivery.

It parks in front of the Wheeler’s, and when you see who steps out, you drop the box you’re holding and run towards them. 

Will and El throw themselves around you, hugging you tightly. Dustin joins, and holding them again, having them here with you, makes everything okay for a moment. Your kids are okay, they’re safe. 

“Are you okay?” El asks you, pulling away slightly. Her eyebrows knit in concern when she notices the cuts on your face and how red your eyes are. “Did he get you?”

Somehow you aren’t surprised that she knows about Vecna. 

“I’m okay, sweetie.” Her hair is buzzed. Already you miss the long strands she once had. You don’t know what she’s been through this last week, but you hope, more than anything, that she hasn’t lost her kindness. “I-I’m okay.”

Your voice catches at the end, and immediately El understands that something else happened.

“We were worried about you,” Will doesn’t let you go. “When El told us what was happening, Jonathan almost lost his mind.”

Jonathan.

Hearing his name makes you remember everything. Instinctively your eyes find him. They always do. Jonathan has Nancy in his arms, but when he senses your eyes on him, he looks up at you. He will always be able to find you. Your heart stops, looking into his once familiar brown eyes.

Jonathan rushes towards you, as he always does, and his arms around you feel like home. 

“Bug,” he breathes against your neck, holding onto you tighter than he ever has before.

You melt when the nickname drips from Jonathan’s lips. It’s been so long since someone has called you that. It’s been even longer since you’ve held Jonathan like this. 

“God, what happened to you?” His eyes roam your body, catching on your bandaged shoulder and thigh. The cuts on your cheek. You try to ease his concern, grabbing his hands, but Jonathan starts to ramble. “We-we tried to get back to Hawkins as soon as we could. The second El told me you were in danger I–”

He inhales shakily, presses his face deeper into your neck. “All I could do to stay sane was think of your voice. Of our last phone call.”

You bury your face into Jonathan’s messy hair. You’re crying, but for what, you don’t know. His scent is bittersweet. His arms are reminiscent of what was once. You’ve missed him, but nothing will ever be the same again.

“I need to see her.” El’s raised voice causes you to let go of Jonathan. She’s standing in front of Dustin, arms crossed, and you know he’s told her the truth. “Take me to Max.”

“What’s wrong with Max?” Mike slings an arm over your shoulders, putting all his body weight against you in greeting. “Miss me, Henderson?”

You move his arm down, forcing him into a hug. You want to remember these next few seconds. The remnants of his childhood before it comes crashing down on him. “I did, Wheeler.”

Mike hugs you back, but when he sees the distress on El’s face, he lets you go and walks towards her. “What? What’s going on?”

Dustin is the one who breaks the news. Shamefully, you know it should’ve been you, but you haven’t been able to say Max’s name in days. There’s too much guilt, remorse, resentment that it hadn’t been you. 

It’s a mess of tears and panic when Dustin tells them. Will covers his mouth, holding back tears, while El storms inside the pizza delivery van as Mike demands that Jonathan take him and everyone else to see Max. They don’t believe any of it. El told them that she saved Max. 

“Are you coming, Y/N?” Jonathan holds his keys up. Everyone else, including Nancy, are already inside. A boy your age, you think his name is Argyle, waves at you from the passenger seat. 

So much has changed. Unable to form the right words, you shake your head at Jonathan. Yet even after months apart, he understands your unspoken words. You can’t see Max again. Not yet. It’s too soon, too much for you to bear.

Seeing her limp body once was enough. 

“We’ll be back,” Jonathan hugs you one last time, pressing a kiss to your hairline as he lets you go. “I promise.”

Steve steps forward then, wrapping an arm around your waist as he stands next to you. The two teens lock eyes, Steve gives Jonathan a cool, steely look. He remembers what you’ve told him. He remembers Jonathan’s words to you before everything collapsed. 

Sensing his anger, you squeeze Steve’s arm. Not here, you beg him. Not now.

Exhaling slowly, Steve offers you his hand. You take it, allowing him to walk you back to his car as the others leave.

– 

The donation center is packed. There are so many people inside, sitting on makeshift cots and pinning missing posters of their loved ones to a bulletin board. Nurses tend to the injured. Mothers cradle their children. The sight makes you ache. All these people, displaced by what they believe to be an earthquake.

You set the boxes down at the main dropoff table, and though the kind employee praises you for how organized the boxes are, you can’t help feeling that you should be doing more. 

In the hundreds of injured and grieving people you’ve seen, you’ve only noticed a handful of workers. 

“Is there any way we can help?” You ask the woman, looking around with a frown.

“Truly anything.” Robin says. “We just… we want to help.”

The woman seems surprised, and you wonder how rare it is for kindness to still be in a town that has known nothing but turmoil these last few years. 

You and Steve get placed sorting clothing while Robin is assigned to the food station. Dustin passes out cups of water for everyone. It isn’t much, but the work is meaningful and it eases the tension in your chest. 

“So…” Steve folds a t-shirt. “Can I ask about Jonathan yet?”

Picking up tattered jeans, you place them in the trash pile. “Might as well.”

“How do we feel about his sudden arrival? I mean, the giant pizza statue on the van was a little dramatic for me.”

He’s trying to keep the conversation light, which you appreciate him for, but you also know that Steve is doing this because he’s worried about you. And, you know, he’s unnerved seeing Jonathan. There’s still a lot left unsaid between you. 

“It’s… a lot.” You admit, struggling to find the right words to convey how you feel. “I’m relieved he’s okay, and I really am happy to see him again, but I… I understand, you know. If you’re upset.”

Steve scrunches his face. “I’m not upset, just… I don’t know. Annoyed with the guy.”

“So you’re upset.”

“Okay, no–”

“Is that Vickie with Robin?” You unintentionally cut Steve off, too surprised by the fact that mere feet away from you is Robin and Vickie making sandwiches together. And they’re laughing. “Are they talking together?”

Steve whips his head around, disbelieving, but lets out a low whistle when he sees Robin making easy conversation with Vickie. “Well I’ll be damned. Who knew our girl had it in her?”

The Jonathan talk lays forgotten as you and Steve admire your friend. You share a secret smile, remembering your own first awkward, bantering conversations together. There is so much pain in this town, and yet you watch as love still blossoms within it.

Across the room, you see Dustin talking to an older man. They’re deep in discussion and you notice your brother’s shaking shoulders. He’s crying. The older man is, too. You narrow your eyes, unsure if you should approach, but when Dustin hands the man Eddie’s old guitar pick, you realize who it is. 

“I’ll be back.” You kiss Steve’s cheek, excusing yourself. 

He tries to ask where you’re going, but you’re already gone. Your brother needs you right now.

Walking over, you stand to the side and allow Dustin and Eddie’s uncle some privacy. While there are so many things you want to say to the man, like how kind his nephew had been, how brilliant his mind was and how you’ll never forget the smile that never left his face, this is for Dustin and Dustin only. 

Eddie was his dearest friend. There is no greater loss than that.

Whatever Mr. Munson tells Dustin will be good for him; it will be the closure you can’t give him yourself. 

An arm wraps around you. You lean into the touch, knowing who it is without even having to look. You rest your head on Steve’s shoulder, exhausted, but content with the warmth he offers you. The two of you keep an eye on Dustin, ready to catch him in case he falls. 

Eventually Mr. Munson leaves, and you take his place next to Dustin. The second you sit down, the boy cries into your shoulder. Tears soak your shirt and your brother’s frail body shakes. “I-I had to tell him that Eddie died a hero.”

“I know,” your head falls against his.

“They’ll never know what he did for this town.” Sobs wrack Dustin’s body. “It isn’t-it isn’t fair.”

You rub his back, brush his hair out of his face. “None of it is fair, Dust.”

He cries even harder and you try to shield him from the world with your body. You try to block out the grief, the bitterness that follows death. How empty it can leave you. An emptiness that can swallow a person whole. 

You won’t let it happen to Dustin. 

“We’re gonna get through this together, alright? You and me, just like it’s always been. I promise–” Your words catch in your throat, tears forming in your own eyes. There’s so much you want to promise your brother, to swear that will come true, but you’re just as hurt and lost as he is. 

“I promise,” you make the words come out. “That everything will be okay. We’ll-we’ll be together, heal and do whatever we can to make everything okay. I-I’ll never leave you, you hear me? I won’t leave you again.”

Though Dustin still cries, his breathing slows. 

“Together. We’ll face this together.” As you talk, you notice a crowd of people swarming by the windows. They’re looking at something, staring and gasping. Your voice grows weak, anxious that something bad is about to happen. “It’ll… it’ll all work out.”

Dustin notices the crowd, too. He looks to you for answers, but you’re silent. You don’t know what’s happening. There’s a murmur in the crowd, hushed, urgent. It sets your skin on edge. Even more people get up now, some are even running outside, and every nerve in your body is screaming at you to run. 

Suddenly the room darkens, as if a giant cloud has covered the sky. Your stomach twists, and you get up, following after the crowd. Bodies shove each other, people blindly walk through the haze of whispers and uncertainty. 

When you step outside, all you see is ash.

The ash falls like snowflakes, beautiful and pure. There’s a softness to it, something delicate in the ruin it leaves. Dustin knocks against you, staring up into the sky with the same dread that you feel. The crowd is murmuring with glee, whispering excitedly about what they believe to be snow; but they’re wrong.

You’ve always won in the end. 

You’ve come to believe this to be a fact. You once told Steve that you believed you used up all your luck. Saving Will, closing the gate over and over again. The penance was the deaths from this summer for the greedy way you abused luck.

Steve had reminded you that there was still good leftover in the bad. That there will always be softness in the destruction, a reason for hope. That you will always find a way out, that luck and love were two sides of the same coin.

You’ve always won in the end. 

Yet, lost in the swarm of people, you watch as the sky begins to fall and Hawkins descends into the Upside Down. 

You no longer believe it.

[END OF SEASON FOUR]

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