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sunfyresrider · 1 year ago

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ミ♥︎OUR LAST SUMMER | NETEYAM SULI

❥Summary: You were never allowed to leave the lab, especially to venture off into the forest. However, one day you get a extreme urge to go to the river and that’s where you met him. The man who would surely be your downfall. ❥Word Count: 8k ❥Tags: obsessive tendencies, love struck Neteyam, mild manipulation, jealous!neteyam, interspecies relationship, wingman!Lo’ak, smut, fingering, oral, p n v, choking (slightly), mild angst. Am I missing anything? Lmk! ❥Author’s Note: This can be seen as a part one to a future fic of mine ‘Mated for Life’. S/O to me for finally remembering to add a word count LMAO. This is inspired by an older fic of mine so I’m kinda copyrighting myself😎

Neteyam knew from a young age everything would fall on his shoulders, that all the responsibilities of an adult would be his to bear. It made him pretty fucking miserable to be honest, but he would never let it show. It made him a better person in many ways, a better son, a better warrior, and a great brother. It did not make him happy nor did it make him forget the loneliness he felt.

Lo’ak always claimed he was misunderstood but Neteyam dare say he had it worse. No one viewed him as other than perfect, no one attempted to see what’s under the surface, and no one was there to love him in the ways he thought he deserved. Today was one of the days that proved he wouldn’t be anything other than the perfect soldier. Another day he had to take the blame for something he did not do.

His brother had snuck onto the battlefield and nearly killed them both. The second their ikrans landed his father had a speech to give to them both, even while his eldest son was bleeding. He took the blame as he always did, the yelling, the insults, and the beratement to protect his younger brother. How much more could he take though? After his wounds had been healed he found himself in the corner of the forest, knees pressed tightly to his chest.

Neteyam prided himself on not being weak but today he let the tears flows. He let the river attempt to wash away the burden that he had no choice but to carry. Neteyam wanted someone, just anyone, to understand him. That is what he prayed for from Ewya, even though the great mother did not involve herself in petty things such as this, he hoped she would this one time.

You had grown up on Pandora, your mother being one of the great scientists who worked with Grace Augustine and Jake Sully. She didn’t allow you to venture outside often like spider, you were too small, too precious to her to risk being harmed in the wilderness. In your opinion it was a load of bullshit and you deserved to play with the Na’vi kids just like him! Except now you were older, inexperienced, out of shape, and would probably die by a viper wolf attack.

Unfortunately for her you were born with rebellion in your heart and a strong sense of will. Dusk had fallen on the moon and the light from the windows inside the lab were beginning to fill the room's orange. It was one of the rare moments you were able to be completely alone. It was a strict rule to return to your room after biology lessons with Norm but you had plenty of time to stroll. Right now, your mother would still be aiding the warriors returning from the recent battle. It was prime time to make an escape and explore.

You first met Neteyam in a very compromising position, curled up by the stream and sleeping. There was a subtle stain on his blue skin from tears that were shed earlier. He looked pathetic, not in a bad way, in an abused puppy way that made your heart melt. How could you leave him out here all alone? Granted, he was twice your size and carried many weapons but that thought did not ease the ache in your heart. No one should ever be left alone to cry. You crawled next to him and gently placed a hand on his shoulder to shake him awake. “Neteyam?” You whispered into his ears.

His eyebrows began to furrow slightly, ears twitching in the direction of your voice. “Neteyam, wake up.” He jumped up and snatched your wrist, startling you. “Brother?!” His eyes scanned the surroundings quickly and you before settling with a confused expression plastered on his face. “S-sorry Lo’ak isn’t here,” you mumbled out. You knew the former vastly better since he visited the lab so often, all you knew of the eldest was stories.

Neteyam’s quickened breathing settled, his eyes scanning over your form. Which human were you? You were too pretty to be another scientist, too young to have lived here during the war. It took him awhile of staring at you for his brain to finally put it together, “star girl.” His hands released you slowly as his mouth hung slightly agape, why in Ewya’s name would Lo’ak hide you from him? He had seen you in passing once or twice but he didn’t realize you looked like this.

Neteyam never considered an alien could be beautiful but you proved him very wrong. You had the perfect lips, your eyes glistened with his reflection inside your pupils. Your hair fell perfectly, highlighting your pretty face. And from what he could see from your strange clothes you had a nice body too. “Lo’ak told me many things about you, all good so far.” He quickly cleared his throat, pulling his hands away to wipe the tears from his eyes. This was embarrassing, but he was going to push through it.

Two tiny, four fingered, hands cupped his cheeks. Your skin was warm, soft and distracting him from his original thought. “Are you alright? Was someone being cruel to you?” You regretted the last sentence as it stumbled out, he was just in a battle you idiot! Oh Ewya, help him because you sounded like the angels his dad spoke about. Neteyam was too dumbfounded to say anything coherent, maybe too starstruck by your presence.

You weren’t necessarily wrong, his father did hurt him deeply. His mother hurt him by not standing up for him either. The most perplexing part was you cared to ask, your tiny self risked being in these dangerous lands just to see if he was alright. Neteyam forced himself to nod slowly, not entirely sure how to react to such comfort.

Perhaps this wasn’t the best thing to do but your mother always comforted you in this way. You had even done this to Kiri a few times when she came to the lab to cry about her own problems. Gently, you swiped the tear tracks from his face, pressing two gentle kisses where they laid. “Don’t cry, you’re an amazing warrior, a good son, an even better brother. You finished your Rite of Passage before anyone else your age. You have so much more to offer than just those things and they’re just too blind to see it. And so many people love you like-”

“My child,” the sounds of your mother's cries echoed in your ears. Shit, she knew you had escaped. You let go of him quickly, preparing to run into her arms and feign innocence. Before you left though, you jumped onto him, arms embracing his frame the best they could. “You're perfect, okay? I’m always here to talk if you need it." You jumped to your feet, brushing off the dirt you had collected whilst exploring. "I gotta go... feel better!"

Neteyam sat up and watched you scurry away, his eyes were wide and time had stilled around him. Where the fuck have you been his entire life? His heart felt full in a way it hadn’t before, Neteyam’s stomach twisting around itself. The thoughts of your little hands, your little frame, your sweet voice and soft lips swirling in his head. You were so… perfect, so inviting… You had to be his.

He had never truly thought about having someone all for himself, especially an alien. But even the perfect son needed to indulge his own desires at times, even the hardened warrior needed to be held in times of sorrow. At this moment all he could think about was stealing you away, keeping you safe in his home, protecting you from the dangers of this world forever. He needed more, desperately and as soon as possible.

Neteyam pulled himself up, with a new found confidence he ran home. It was time he talked to his parents about finding a potential mate.

The talk went about as well as Lo’ak claiming his ikran. He mentioned he had found someone, and he was prepared to finally choose a mate. His parents rejoiced, the proud look they reserved for him finally returning. Until he mentioned that it was you, and the light drained from their eyes, the colors fading from their faces.

Neteyam’s idea was shot down faster than he could manage to speak it. You had an avatar body in that damn lab and he knew it! You could easily become one of the people like his father and be his mate. Why was his mother so against it? His father at the very least gave it some thought before succumbing to his mother’s rants.

It wasn’t her fault she was traumatized, but it was hypocritical considering his father was an alien when she met him. Fine, Neteyam was used to a challenge and he would claim you before they had another chance to say no. Hopefully this time around his love for you would override his fear of disappointing his parents.

✦•······················•✦•······················•✦

The next time he came across you was far after eclipse, everyone in his home was fast asleep while he made his move. It was incredibly hard to sneak out of the camp, even harder to sneak into the human camp. Your stupid cameras and metal monstrosities make it nearly impossible to creep through, let alone into you. Neteyam vaguely remembered where Lo’ak claimed you slept, in moments like these he was grateful his brother had his back.

The more he tiptoed around the camp the angrier he became, were you even real or was that a fever dream? He stumbled onto a group of tree metal homes stacked against each other. Carefully, he peeked his head into each one searching you out. To his disappointment the first two were occupied by a snoring Norm and a drooling Max. It took him one more attempt before he finally saw your sleeping figure.

You were so adorable, all bundled up in the things called sheets and holding a pillow tightly to your chest. It made his soul melt at the sight, Neteyam wasted no time welcoming himself inside, pushing the first door open and closing it tightly behind him. If he let any air in from the outside you may die before he got the chance to touch you again. Thankfully, the next door was easier and much quieter than the first.

Neteyam had to crouch as he approached you, ignoring how terrifying he probably looked. He outstretched one of his long fingers to brush a strand of your hair out of your face, admiring the peaceful view in front of him. If Ewya allowed it he could stay and watch you sleep all night but your air was already taking an effect on his lungs.

“Yawne… wake up,” he gently placed a hand on your shoulder, urging you awake. You were an incredibly light sleeper, your eyes shot open and you jumped back as if you were about to scream. Neteyam quickly shoved a hand over your lips, bracing the back of your head with the other before it crashed against the wall. “Shhh, shh yawne, it’s Neteyam.”

You crooked your head to the side, watching him closely. Obviously pondering why he invaded your space at such a late hour. “Neteyam,” you murmured into his hand, confirming if this was a dream or reality. A wide grin blessed his features, “good morning, baby girl.” He heard that nickname from his father, and by the blush on your cheeks it worked quite well. “What are you doing here?”

You rubbed your eyes, gazing out the window, “it’s after eclipse...” you drawled into a yawn. His entire body language shifted, excitement coursing through his veins. “I’m always too busy during the day to visit so I thought now would be the perfect time.” You sat up on your bed, he reached up and brushed the hair out of your face again. His eyes were completely memorizing, and he touched you with the gentleness only your mother did. “O-okay.”

Neteyam smiled at you with such kindness, even with his size you didn’t feel threatened in slightest. “I thought since you never get to go out I would take you tonight. Of course, you would be under my protection the entire time.”

Your face lit up, you could finally leave and see what’s outside these dull walls. But at the back of your head the sound of your mother's voice telling you what not to do rang strong. The fear of disappointing her was even stronger and the fear of potential punishment. “I- I can’t.”

“No one will find out, I promise.” His amber eyes peered up at you with the same heart wrenching expression as the other day. “You wouldn’t want to make me sad, would you? I- I just thought you would want to spend time with me.” It was manipulative, he knew but it worked flawlessly with you. Neteyam would make up for this one transgression later. “Fine, just wait for me outside please. " you said in a nervous whisper.

Neteyam didn’t take his eyes off you as you slid into your “outside” clothing, at some point he would need to get you actual ones instead of the odd human fabrics that cover too much. You hastily slipped your mask on, taking in a deep breath as you did. He hated that thing, hopefully soon he could get rid of it. A very subtle, almost unnoticeable feeling of butterflies filled your stomach as you exited the lab.

“You ready, baby?” The word sounded foreign on his tongue but music to your ears. You nodded in excitement, letting Neteyam grasp your hand and pull you along. He was gentle with you no matter how much excitement was coursing through his veins. You moved in unison through the thick leaves, granted he whisked you off your feet anytime you seemed to falter. The farther away from the encampment you got, the happier you became.

The forest was naturally lit with bioluminescent flowers, vines, and grasses of all kinds. The noise of animals coming out to play filled your ears and for once it did not frighten you. Neteyam was basking in your joy, your voice carried only the excitement of someone innocent to this world. And when you glanced at him? It felt like Ewya herself had sent you to make his heart ache.

To avoid any possible maimings or accidental injuries he kept you very close to him. If Neteyam’s arm was not around you then his hand was on yours. The warmth you radiated felt like his only life source. To your surprise, he was naturally funny and laid back. You had only assumed he was cold, stern and serious, this must be a side of him he only showed a few.

You spoke with him more than anyone, babbling about everything you saw, heard or felt. It may seem obnoxious to others but to him it was like a melody being played by a flute. Each time you squeezed his fingers he felt the blood rush to his head, pounding at his skull in the most beautiful way. You had completely and irrevocably captured his heart.

As the evening progressed the original point of this journey was almost lost to the daze you put him in. Instead of immediately taking you to the sacred place he opted for the stream where you originally found him, you could call it a second, better, impression. It was memorizing in the eyes of a girl who never got to leave her cave of comfort. The fish glowing beneath a gentle stream, a waterfall glistening under the light of several moons.

But this place would be the start of your inevitable downfall. It started off as a dare that turned into swimming half nude with a man twice your size. You let the water flow past you, cradling your body in its warmth. Neteyam was a better swimmer than you, granted you had never gotten the chance before. You chased him in circles below the surface, quickly becoming distracted by the fish that swam by.

The orange was your favorite, reminding you of the sunset. His favorite was the yellow, said it reminded him of you because yellow was the color of happiness and you made him happy… It was a very sappy way of flirting but it worked. Neteyam spent most of his time indulging you on what you wanted or asked the entire night and he did not mind for one second.

You asked him personal questions no one else dared to, further carving your way into his soul. If he thought he knew what love was before he was terribly wrong. Whatever you were doing to him was much worse in all the right ways. It was about the time he came to the realization, staring into your eyes and seeing your future together, you started to nod off. Your eyes become droopy, yawns escaping your throat every other sentence.

Neteyam would stay like this forever if he could, drowning in your existence. Your health was more important to him though and you desperately needed sleep to survive. You tried to fight him off when he said it was time to go, whining to stay here forever. It was cute, and he almost didn’t make you leave, until another adorable yawn left you.

He whisked you off your feet without protest, wrapping your legs around him so he could carry you home. You felt embarrassed at first, realizing you probably looked like a baby being carried by their mother. But then you began to feel his breath on your neck sending goosebump down your spine, long fingers wrapping around you to keep you in place. The low, deep, whisper of his voice telling you sweet nothings echoing in the walls of your mind.

A new sensation washed over you as Neteyam’s lips brushed against your ears ever so slightly. A sweet ache between your legs that progressively got worse the longer he held you. You attempted to pull away, embarrassed he could feel the heat, but he easily overpowered you. Neteyam was determined to keep you in place, as close to him as humanly possible.

He paused his stride, gazing at you for a moment and then back to the forest ahead. You avoided his eyes, but you could feel the smirk creep onto his face. He didn’t say anything on the way home, deep in thought it seemed. However, you could hear his breath becoming ever so slightly heavier.

Neteyam should be a good little soldier and take you home and feign ignorance. He noticed every sound, every look, every smell, every movement coming from you. The warm feeling across his waist that was driving him to the brink of insanity. His own arousal was bound to be noticed the second he put you down… How far could he go with you before he was stopped? You wanted him and why should he not give you what you wanted?

Sneaking back inside the second time was easier than the first, and this time he intended to stay a little longer than necessary. You were drowsy, too tired to change yourself into dry clothing. You probably told yourself he was used to seeing people in less clothes and that it was nothing to Neteyam. Oh how wrong you were. He managed to keep quiet though, attempting to avoid the thing between his legs.

“Time for bed, yawne.” You threw yourself onto the bed, melting into the mattress. Sleep evaded you, the wetness between your legs making it unbearable to get comfortable. To your surprise, he climbed on top, hovering mere inches from your face. “You okay, baby girl?” His ears twitched, Neteyam’s tail betraying his thoughts. There it was again, the foreign nickname that rolled off his tongue like honey.

You crossed your legs together tightly, “I-I’m okay.” He cocked his head to the side, bringing a finger up to brush your face. “I can help you if there’s something wrong,” he purred. You gulped, opening your legs ever so slightly to make a little more room, but that only made the ache worse. His knee found its place between your thighs, applying pressure to the one place you were trying to avoid.

You turned away and evaded his gaze. You felt like a complete idiot, a grown woman acting like a horny teenager, it was disgusting! However, when you looked back at him he was still looking at you expectantly, waiting for you to ask for his help. His knee moved forward once more, you bit your lip to avoid the sound attempting to escape. “I can show you what helps me, yawne.”

He whispered lowly, you didn’t have time to think, or reply before his lips were connecting to yours. You attempted to push him back, tell him no, this was wrong, and you could get in so much trouble. But the feeling of his legs between yours was easing whatever plagued you. A sound of pleasure escaped you before you could stop it, and that seemed to embolden him.

His lips pressed harder against yours, the sweetness of his mouth made your mind hazy. Neteyam’s tongue found itself entangled with yours, and you found yourself getting lost in the moment. The feeling of need was quickly becoming too much so you moved your hips against him, desperately trying to release the pressure.

Neteyam chuckled into your mouth, his fangs glistening in the light. “All you had to say was your problem was down there,” he purred. “I can fix that for you,” Neteyam’s voice turned into an exhilarating whisper, sending chills down your spine. You shivered at the feeling of his fingers gently slipping inside your waistband, hovering over the spot you really wanted him.

You grabbed his hand, your nerves getting the best of you. “W-what if someone finds out.” Neteyam moved forward, cupping your pussy . It was so wet and desperate for him, how could he stop? “I won’t tell if you don’t.” You closed your eyes, nodding your head. Neteyam kissed you once more, this time more rough than before. Internally, he hoped everyone would find out.

He slipped his finger inside of you, his eyes growing wide at how tight you were. He could feel the heat emanating from your core, and you were practically throbbing. Neteyam’s fingers were large enough to easily reach your sweet spot, stretching you out as he added another. You clenched around him, a high pitched sound leaving your lips.

He groaned at the sight of you, you were far too good to be true. Neteyam leaned down, gently nipping at your neck and sucking on your pulse point. His fangs occasionally gliding across your sensitive skin. Neteyam continued to pleasure you, fingers moving at a steady rhythm, a pace he knew he could keep up for hours.

You bit your lip to hold back your whines, each breathy exhale turning into a high pitched moan. The sound was like music to Neteyam, he couldn't get enough of you. His tongue snaked out of his mouth, tasting your skin as he left marks. He wanted everyone to know you belonged to him, in one way or another.

His thumb began to circle your clit, thankfully human anatomy was similar to his own. His tail wrapped around one of your legs, pulling it to the side, allowing him more access. You gripped onto him, burying your face in his chest to hide the embarrassment of the sound leaving your lips.

Neteyam kissed your forehead, nuzzling you softly as he quickened his pace. You clenched tightly around his fingers, bucking your hips against his hand, riding it out as much as possible. Neteyam had you pinned under him, mercilessly trying to pull out your orgasm. He was almost certain he would cum in his loincloth.

"You're doing so well for me, baby girl." He purred into your ear, his tongue darting across it as his hand worked you. His fingers consistently applying pressure at the spongy spot inside of you. His thumb continued to move across your clit, working it to match the pace. You gripped tightly to his broad shoulders, rolling your hips against his hand as you felt your body begin to give way. "Oh, I-I-I..."

“Hmm? Baby girl I can’t hear you.” His breath was hot on your neck. “S-sgood, Teyam,” your new nickname for him made him groan. His fingers continued to move, making your words come out more high pitched and incoherent than before. He nipped at your neck, biting it and sucking hard enough to leave a mark.

He didn't want to stop, he didn't want this moment to end. The feeling of your warm cunt tightening around him as your body tensed. Your nails digging into his shoulders, you back arching and hips bucking. His hand moved at a steady pace as your body began to unravel, letting yourself go. The euphoric feeling washing over you like a tidal wave.

Neteyam took his time as he eased you through it, gently bringing you down as he whispered sweet nothings. He peppered kisses across your face, murmuring how good you were to him as you relaxed. "Good girl," he whispered. He carefully removed his fingers, and your body mourned the loss of him. “You did so good for me, yawne.”

Your body was limp underneath him, your weighted breaths slowing. “I’m so tired,” you murmured. Shh, go to sleep, yawne. I’ll clean you up.” And he did exactly what he said, unsurprisingly. He took the time out of his night to carefully clean up the mess he made on your body and clothes. It was pathetic to admit but at some point, he came in his loincloth, and it was leaking out onto your sheets.

Neteyam watched you sleep peacefully until the light began to shine into the camp. He rushed back home and thankfully, no one noticed his disappearance. This became a routine between the two of you, and Lo’ak became his best wingman. He pretended to not know anything, made excuses, and visited you pretending like he wasn’t just going so Neteyam had an excuse to follow. For once he was very grateful his little bro was the way he was.

Things were looking up for you as well, Now you got to leave the human lab more often and you got to watch him train with the other boys. A few people noticed the way you watched him and how he watched you, the way he moved if you moved. It was kept quiet, as far as anyone knew you had no relationship. Neteyam was always teaching and showing you exciting new things, making you laugh constantly, showering you with affection you received from no one else. He worshiped you in a way you never thought possible.

Neteyam was completely beside himself, and it was going to kill him eventually. You told him you loved him, were proud of him and he was so much more than just the perfect son. You liked him for the reasons no one else did, seeing him for how he truly was and wanted to be. It was no wonder he was infatuated by your existence.

Neteyam, thankfully, found enough self-control to not fuck you. To do enough to keep you attached to him but not enough to ruin you completely. He was pretty positive he wouldn’t even be able to fit inside you anyway. It didn’t change the fact he thought about it every single day. It was hard to explain the things he was feeling but he knew he was stuck to you. Without you he wouldn’t be able to breathe, eat, or sleep like he used to. Neteyam’s existence would become completely meaningless without your presence.

But for now, it was new and perfect. Shiny like a freshly carved toy bound to break.

✦•······················•✦•······················•✦

All good things come to an end, you learned that after Quartich had returned and Neteyam was being stolen away to a reef clan too far from you. The moon stopped its rotation, all of the life you had being stolen away after he uttered the words goodbye. It was an indescribable pain, unrelenting and all consuming. It took weeks for you to be able to leave your bed, for the nightmares to cease, but the thoughts of him haunted you at every waking moment.

The only place you could find him was at the river, in memories. A part of you wished to go back, to have never left the lab and stayed oblivious to his existence. In your heart you knew he was bound to carve his place into it one way or another. Neteyam used to say how he prayed to the great mother for you and Ewya always finds a way. Day and night blurred together, you stopped counting the hours and let them fly past you. In your darkest moments you repeated a chant to yourself, a prayer almost, One day, Neteyam will come back for you.

He cried, a pathetic display, in front of his parents to bring you with. Neytiri was disgusted, but not enough to hate you as much as spider. He took that as a small win in a losing battle. Jake never faltered on his stance, only family could come unless you wished to put yourself in danger. All he received for his pleas was sympathy from his siblings and a harsh scolding from his parents. It felt as thought his heart had been torn from his chest, the air sucked out of his lungs. You would be here alone, without him, doing all the things you should be doing with him. Neteyam would be stuck in the middle of the ocean with strangers on a droll island.

He did not adapt to the way of water like Lo’ak did. His brother had finally found an environment to thrive in but he was completely lost without you. It was becoming harder to maintain the perfection his father strived for. Even whilst in mourning he had to care of everyone, protect them, comfort them and receive none of it in return. It was a hard life to live but what other choice did he have?

Neteyam only ever felt happy again when he drifted off in his sleep. He was always with you in his dreams, feeling, touching, hearing and smelling you again. For a few hours each night he was back in your room making stupid jokes and listening to rave about your newest discovery. It was always sunny in his dreams, even when it was nightfall. Each time Neteyam closed his eyes it was as if he was in the promised land… but everyone has to wake up eventually.

To ease the eternal ache, he started pleasuring himself more often. It would be a sad sight if anyone ever caught the once mighty warrior stopping to such levels but desperate times called for desperate measures. Neteyam fully intended on stealing you away one day, human or avatar body he didn’t care anymore. If anyone was against you he would kill them… except his own blood, of course.

When he connected to Ewya he saw you, crouched down by your mother in a body he didn’t recognize. Oh, your avatar, your mother is finally allowing you to use it. You were still ethereal in the new body, still tiny, but you looked much more like him. You felt so close to him, your warmth radiating through the connection. He was at peace again, for a limited time only. Neteyam was dragged away the second he felt a shift in the water… Kiri

“We’re leaving… now!” You scrambled to grab the med supplies before you leaped onto the helicopter. For all that it was worth, you hoped Kiri was okay. Still, a very selfish, disgusting, part of you was glad you now had an excuse to visit Neteyam. Norm wouldn’t allow you to go in Avatar form, too early to tell if it would last the long journey ahead. You nervously picked at your fingernails the entire way there, she would okay you knew it.

Neteyam could only watch as your little form rushed past everyone to get to his sister. He never left her side or yours for that matter, choosing to stay outside and watch you work. He couldn’t put into words how grateful he was for you, for the effort you were devoting to his family, to saving his sister. He felt a sliver of happiness just watching you again, seeing that you were alive and well.

You hadn’t given him the time of day though, too busy checking Kiri’s pulse and giving her an IV. If you were being honest with yourself this didn’t appear to be a normal human illness. Almost all people can wake up from seizures naturally, almost, as she wasn’t waking up at all. You didn’t know as much about Ewya as everyone else but if this happened whilst she was connected to the tree… then it was probably due to that.

Of course, you hadn’t voiced this out loud in fear of insulting Norm and his hard work. Also, Neytiri breathing down your neck had you too scared to move, a good mother, but a very scary woman. Eventually, you were all kicked out and you nearly fell on your face rushing onto the woven walkways. They were much more bouncy than you expected but a rather large Metkayina boy caught you before you dived head first into the ocean.

“You should be more careful, alien.” You gazed up at him with wide eyes, he was even bigger than Teyam! The last word was in Na’vi but you knew very well what it meant. Luckily, it wasn’t filled with disdain like it usually was, rather disappointment paired with curiosity. A strange thing you did notice was his hand remained on your shoulder, was this normal? “Thank you…” His head raised, eyes scanning you cautiously, “It’s Aonung.”

The crowd around the marui had finally begun to disappear and Neteyam was able to release a breath he didn’t know he was holding. He stood up from his crouching position, thanking ewya for saving his sister and welcoming her back to the land of the living. It was times like this he was grateful his dad pushed him so hard, if he was too weak, too careless, she could very well be dead.

Neteyam slowly stalked out of the marui, lost in his own thoughts. He knew you would love the ocean, the water, the creatures, and all of the plants you fawn over. His dream was to be able to show you it eventually, under more positive circumstances. For now, he would accept showing you what he could whilst you remained here. A childlike smile graced his features as he looked around, head turning in all directions to spot you.

“I’m going to kill him,” his eyes twitched and Neteyam’s hands unconsciously balled up into fists, granted they were not the same as those with four fingers. Aonung was touching you, talking to you as if you weren’t an alien. After all the bullshit he’d done to his siblings he had the nerve to touch you? He felt the bile in his gut rise to his throat as you smiled at something he said. “It’s a waste of time,” Lo’ak appeared beside him and if he was in his right mind Neteyam would have demanded to know where he has been.

Except he wasn’t in his right mind. “Fish lips,” his younger brother mumbled under his breath before turning to go into the marui where Kiri rested. Jealousy, rage, hate, hurt, Neteyam couldn’t put a name to everything that was boiling inside, but it was too much. You hadn’t even fucking glanced in his direction the entire night. Before he knew it his feet had carried him right behind you, his chest rising and falling with each deep breath.

“Teyam,” you exclaimed, more excited than you have been in months. Your smile fell when you noticed the way his eyes were staring daggers into the water boy, enemies perhaps? “Back off,” he gritted through his teeth as he poked at Aonung’s chest. Obviously, this wasn’t a fight the other was interested in. He glanced at you with a raised brow, if he had a brow, and back at your Teyam.

“Okayyy then,” he lifted his hands in mock surrender. “It was nice meeting you, human.” Aonung spoke to Neteyam more than you, his smirk directed only at him. You swore you heard him growl lowly, maybe the heat was getting to your head. He didn’t move as he watched the fish boy walk away, his tail swaying violently behind him. “Neteyam?” You turned to him, staring at his face after what felt like centuries.

“Teyam-” you were cut off as his hand wrapped around your wrist, literally dragging you away from the camp. You protested at first, slamming your fist into his arm, offended by how he was behaving. Did the reef people make him cruel? “Let. Me. Go!” you shouted at him, but your cry fell on deaf ears. The grip he had on you wasn’t bruising but his strength far outmatched yours and this was completely unfair. You whipped your head around to watch where he was taking you, the sandy beach quickly turning into heavy shrubbery.

It was beautiful at the very least, you told yourself to remain positive. There hasn’t been a time where you’ve seen Neteyam this angry, especially at you. He paused in his steps when he felt you were now far enough away from everyone. Neteyam let your hand fall to your sides, taking a deep breath, “you!” You flicked when he raised his voice, your fear only heightened at your sheer size difference. "Y-yea, me."

Neteyam huffed, his eyebrows furrowed and gaze piercing though you. “Why haven’t I seen you all evening” Normally, he kept all of his feelings under check, making sure to never express them in case they would upset someone else. Now, the anger radiated off of his shoulders and his words dripped with malice. His question came out as more of a demand, and you could feel your own anxiety spike up. “I was helping Kiri.”

“Helping? You were too busy swooning over fish lips to help anyone.” The words fell from his mouth faster than he could process, regret immediately flooding his system. You wished the ground would open up and Ewya would swallow you whole. “I- I-'' you choked on your own words, tears welling in your eyes. “You don’t love me anymore?” Your damned mask began to fog as you stumbled over your words.

Neteyam's hands were around your shoulders before you could even react, pulling you into him, “don’t cry please, you’ll suffocate to death.” His tone was gentle and he spoke softly, but you could still hear the pain in his voice. The tears came quicker now and your heart hurt. His large hands ran up and down your back in an attempt to calm you down.

"I- I'm sorry, I don't mean to," You sniffled, attempting to keep the tears in your eyes. Neteyam didn’t mean to make you cry, although seeing you like this for him was far better than watching you with the other. Shit, was this manipulation? He dropped down on his knees so you could almost be the same height, placing his hands on your cheeks, forcing you to look at him. “Shh, I still love you. I would never stop loving you. No matter the time we spend apart or the distance between us, you’re in my heart forever, yawne.”

He always knew the right things to say, it made your heart swell and warmth fill your body. Neteyam could make the worst situations feel okay. "I-I," Neteyam placed a hand over his heart, "you don’t need to say anything to me, I've upset you." You sniffled "I still love you too," Neteyam released a deep breath, his face turning stern once more. “Let me prove to you how much I care about you.”

It took minutes before you were laid out on the sand, your pants long discarded. Neteyam had your legs over his shoulders, devouring you. Your toes curled against the cool beach as the wind blew through your hair, the breeze from the water chilling the heat radiating off of you. It was a new sensation, his tongue rubbing circles around your clit. The feeling was foreign and intense, sending jolts throughout your body.

Your hips bucked as his fingers prodded at your entrance, forcing all three inside as an attempt to stretch you more. Neteyam growled in response, the noise sending vibrations throughout your core. His fingers pumped in and out of you, curling against the top of you to press into the soft spongy spot that had you crying out. Neteyam lapped at the wetness leaking out of you, drinking up every single drop of you.

His eyes met yours, you felt as if the whole world was spinning, a euphoric feeling bubbling inside you, building and building. Neteyam's tongue pressed against your clit once more and you felt the orgasm ripple through you, your walls contracting against his fingers and squeezing them. The pleasure was overwhelming and you couldn't do much but writhe and cry out as Neteyam brought you down from your high, licking you clean of your mess.

He pulled away and you whined at the loss of his body heat, until you heard the sounds of his loincloth falling to the ground. You pulled your head up off the ground and gasped, he was large, incredibly too large for you. His tip was a bruising purple, shining with precum. Your eyes nearly burst out of your skull, it looked painfully hard as his veins popped out. “T-teyam-”

Neteyam climbed on top of you, shushing you with his finger. “I’ll be gentle I promise,” he purred, his hand snaking down to his tip, rubbing the sticky liquid around the head before placing himself at your entrance. “I’m gonna claim you, mark you with my scent so no one else fucking touches you.” The head of his cock prodded at your entrance and the pressure was intense, your walls achingly slow stretching to fit him. "I can't," Neteyam pushed the head of his cock into you, forcing a choked cry from your lips. “Shh, just be a good girl for me.”

It hurt, yet it felt good in the most bizarre way, a tingling sensation shooting through your body as he pushed deeper and deeper inside you. “Oh ewya, you’re so fucking tiny, baby girl,” he groaned as he pushed deeper. His cock was stretching your walls, the pain slowly disappearing as you grew used to his size. You could feel him against the very base of your cervix, his hips pressing flush against your thighs. “F-f-fuck,” you choked out in a choked whimper, trying to get accustomed to his girth and length, it had to be the size of your forearm at least.

Neteyam began to pump into you slowly, giving you a few seconds to adjust to his length before snapping his hips and forcing the air out of your lungs, causing you to scream and arch your back. You couldn't believe the noises coming out of your own mouth, the moans and cries echoing around the beach. Neteyam moved painfully slowly, thrusting himself in and out of you.

He used one of his large hands to press against your stomach, feeling his cock move inside of you. “You feel that, yawne?I can feel myself moving inside of you. Fuck, you're so perfect, sweetheart, taking all of me inside you.” He hissed as his movements got faster and more erratic. The feeling was indescribable, the mixture of pain and pleasure that had your head spinning and mind hazy.

Neteyam couldn’t fit all of himself in you no matter how hard he tried, he settled for slamming into the top of your cervix, forcing a scream from your lips. He hoped everyone could hear you screaming his name from miles away. “You like that, baby?” Neteyam growled, you wrapped your arms around his neck, clawing at his shoulders. “Ssyes teyam, sgood,” you slurred your words, feeling the waves of euphoria begin to roll inside of you again.

His thrusts started to become faster, and your mind began going numb. Your cunt clenched around him as your eyes welled with tears. “Teyam, p-please. Please!" You stuttered between moans and whimpers. Neteyam wrapped a hand around your neck, squeezing softly. "That’s my girl,” his praise made you whimper for more. His cock was throbbing inside you, his seed threatening to spill at any moment. "Louder, yawne. Everyone has to know you’re all mine," he growled into your ear, putting emphasis on 'mine’. Your entire body was going limp beneath him.

Neteyam removed his hand from your neck, wrapping his arm underneath your legs, spreading them as far as they could go and angling you so that he hit the sensitive bundle of nerves inside you, pounding against it rapidly. Your vision started to turn blurry and you felt yourself begin to fall over the edge again, a new kind of wave washing over you, “F-Fuck! Tey- teyam- please in for me!"

Your cunt clamped down around him, forcing Neteyam to cry out, his thrusts becoming shallow and erratic. You could feel Neteyam release inside of you, ropes of hot cum filling your insides, mixing with your own fluids.

The sound of a twig snapping nearby pulled you both out of your haze, “Neteyam!” Jake’s booking voice echoed around the beach. Both of your heads shot to the left, staring at the mortified father whose eyes were boring into you. Oh, you were completely fucked.

✦•······················•✦•······················•✦

The walk of shame you both endured was the most humiliating moment of your entire life. It was an excruciating silent trip back home but at the very least Jake waited until you boarded the helicopter, with a traumatized look on his face, before he called your mother. Without a doubt he told Neytiri soon after and you could only imagine her utter rage. Norm and Max said nothing, opting to stare out the window and dissociate from the entire situation completely. You were extremely grateful for their silence.

You couldn’t imagine the scolding he was about to receive, the punishment he was going to endure. Your mom, although mortified, let you off the hook easily. No avatar for another month, and no Neteyam for the rest of eternity. That one hurt, you felt the same soul crushing despair as you did when he first left.

On the other side of Pandora Neteyam remained completely unphased. He took the yelling, the punishment and everything else like a strong man. In the end he had won, you were covered in his scent and no one was going to touch you again. As for your future together? He had a plan for that too. Neteyam had already practically mated with you no matter what his mother said and once you’re in that new body, he would run away and do it again.

You may not realize it yet but he was coming back for you. One way or another you were going to come to the reef with him, be a part of his family, bear his children, and never ever leave his side again. Even if it meant disappointing his parents one final time, but he had hope in Ewya that would not be the case.

#neteyam te suli tsyeyk'itan #neteyam sully #neteyam x reader #neteyam x you #neteyam x human reader #neteyam x y/n #neteyam fluff #neteyam smut #neteyam angst #neteyam fic #avatar fic #atwow fic #atwow x reader #atwow fanfiction #atwow smut #neteyam suli x reader

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belovedivies · 23 days ago

Note

Author🙏,

May you show some benevolence to us peasants and give us some crumbs about our albino, Alipede✨

terminal ft. alipede

a/n: i adore yandere alipede with every fiber of my being. cw: yandere content, spoiler for johan’s past, mention of bullying, possessive and obsessive behaviors, manipulation, violent tendencies, implied parentification on reader's part, trashy adults made trashy decisions, injury, codependency (oops). wc: 2.67k ao3 link! m.list

This far into the countryside, you stopped caring what day it was. Every sunrise had the same rooster crowing behind the mountains and every nightfall sounded the same container trucker honking on a distant highway just as you were about to doze off. The same off-brand chips in every local dinner, the same celebrity whose life people tended to gossip about.

You wanted to say again, with conviction, that you weren’t miserable. There was no better fate to be bestowed upon. Maybe in another universe where your dad hadn’t left and your mom cared a bit more, you might have had the chance to act your age. Picked up a new hobby or two. Learned a sport. Went to summer camps. Fell in love.

Then again, maybe the caregiver role you took on during this three-month break was inevitable. The boarding school your mom worked at was so low on staff that you had to practically live there to play the part of a nanny. Keeping tabs on the kids. Making sure they take their study seriously. Breaking off fights in the hallway. On days when the tension was heavy and the lump in your throat had been too uncomfortable to ignore, you only knew how to smile and suck it up. Sending them away with a pat on the back.

The reminder persisted: they would always have you to count on, and you only had yourself.

Away from the crowds but never in the corner, Alipede was a strange one. Obedient to his own torment yet glimmering under the unfeeling façade was a rare defiance. He never fought back, never complained. You wondered if he had simply given up. If he had just taken everything with a grant of salt like you did once upon a time. Still, you admired Alipede. And nothing ever stopped you to try and do your best by the poor boy: slipped in extra bread, chastised his bullies, cleaned the dirt on his desk.

You stared at him like a hawk from the other side of the room. Many times a day, he might have stared back.

—

One noon, Alipede tripped over a tree root outside and scraped his knees. It was midday when the sun was at its highest, and specifically a day so boiling hot that the heat had felt like it was raking red sharp nails down your sweat-soaked back; your toes sticking together in a pair of too-large sandals.

The grass and dirt sizzled their complaints underneath your palms, but they didn’t for Alipede. Against the limewood, he rested his back with a peculiar look of detachment.

He hadn’t cried.

But you fussed over his wounds anyway with wet wipes and a few clumsy attempts at band-aids. Halfway through the heinous process with the tissue already stained with dirt and blood, you realized you might be risking an infection.

“S-Should I get a teacher? A nurse?” You choked out hopelessly before realizing the only semi-responsible teenager around here were you. “W-We should get you inside first!”

Your shoulders continued to shake the more you forced the words out. The boy’s eyes were dead set on your panicked face, but ultimately no answer came.

You gulped and put on your best caring tone. “D-Does it still hurt?”

Alipede blinked. No answer. A thousand years passed. Silence. Your lips wobbled with anxiety in your guts and an apology behind your lips. He had it so much harder than you.

Still, when the albino extended an arm out to reach something behind you… no, on you. Under you? You flinched. A marshmallow-soft sensation settled on your lap and your gaze instinctively followed where his hand went. A rabbit, fur as pale as snow and eyes as red as ruby, had unknowingly hopped out of its coop and was now curling up on your legs.

His rabbit.

It might as well have made you drown in guilt before, but that feeling was so far away now it barely registered in your mind. Alipede reached out to pet the creature. It nuzzled into his hand and emitted a purring sound, the vibration tingling your skin. You watched the interaction with relief.

A good distance away from the common building, everything measured up to a perfect amount of tranquility. There were no cheery nursery rhymes on repeat, no cagey and overly dramatic action movies playing from one classroom to another. You smiled and scratched the rabbit’s head with your forefinger, earning a soft snore from the little guy.

“You left the cage open.”

It took three blinks to realize that Alipede was talking to you.

He hadn’t tilted his head up yet, still caressing his beloved pet. Beneath the shades of linden, Alipede seemed so soft and kind—looking every bit the pretty boy he was told to be. Maybe it hadn’t been a compliment at all, and you knew how much the albino detested being labeled as just another darling face. But even then, without spring in his steps and a guide cane in his hand, Alipede had always had this air of helplessness floating in and around him, teetering between the fading line of despair and a sense of willpower just vague enough to keep him going.

Your heart was already in your throat when he continued to say something.

Was it your name?

The beginning and the ending seemed to match, but there was no guarantee what had slipped out in between. The sun hid behind a heap of cotton candy clouds, yet your palm remained clammy, uncomfortably hot. Maybe it was the guilt. Maybe it was the knowledge that you had too wronged the poor boy. That you had fed and played and cared for what was his when he wasn’t around.

A tap on your shoulder. This time, you gathered the courage to finally meet his eyes as the albino leaned in and muttered again.

So it really was your name.

And your forehead was touching his. So was your nose. Alipede was so close you two were basically breathing the same air, the apples of your cheeks up against one another. And you hadn’t minded the unusually intimate distance, too busy taking in the red in his irises and the flutter of his pale lashes. Only when the rabbit squirmed on your lap again, trying to make some room did you realize that you still owed him an apology. You pulled back and ducked your head sheepishly.

“I’m sorry…”

For touching the rabbit without his permission. For the wounds on his knees. For complaining too much when he hadn’t.

Your gaze was trained on your lap, waiting. Thomas once whined to you about the scratches on his hand, calling the albino a freak because he had overreacted. You wondered if Alipede would bite you too. His pet did the first time you approached it, leaving a red welt on your arm and a scar on your pinkie. The thought of an angry boy sinking his teeth deep into your skin sounded so silly that it almost made you laugh. Maybe you wouldn’t even blame him then.

He hadn’t said anything either, but when the albino unexpectedly took your hands in his and laced your fingers together, you hadn’t flinched. Alipede was smiling at you.

“It’s fine,” then came a gentle squeeze. There in those cemeteries of red, you spotted a glint of delight, “I’m not mad.”

“Oh.” You opened your mouth, then closed it. “Thanks...”

Alipede raised an eyebrow. “What’s wrong?”

“Nothing. I just…” You mumbled. “I thought you would be mad at me for…”

A lock of white hair fell over his shoulder as Alipede tilted his head. He looked so cute; you wanted to squish his cheeks together.

“If it’s you, I won’t.”

The comment might have made you feel better if it wasn’t for the dry delivery. Even then, you trusted the boy enough to mellow out with a squeeze back. Did you forget something? Your gaze darted back to his scraped knees and felt your heart jump; you still had to take him inside for a checkup.

“You’re still hurting! W-We should head back in—“ The second you had tried to move away, he gripped and pulled you back in with a strength you didn’t know was possible. Shouldn’t be possible. Eyes wide as full moons, you could only stare as Alipede cupped your cheeks.

“I’m fine.”

“But-“

“I’m not hurting.”

The albino lowered his voice, pleading.

“Can we stay here a little longer, please?”

You nod wordlessly.

It was only Alipede, after all.

You trusted him just as much as he did you. He didn’t need to talk and beg and cry his way into your free time; you gave it to him willingly anyway.

The albino’s thumbs ghosted over your cheekbones. You wondered if he had felt your silent agreement at all, if he could hear the heart beating inside your chest, the blood flowing in your veins, and the air pumping into your lungs. He might have heard a lot of things you couldn’t.

The rabbit squirmed once more, nuzzling its fluffy head against your thigh. Alipede’s hands finally left your face to continue petting his comfort animal, but his eyes didn’t.

“He likes you,” Alipede said with conviction, and a smile smudged around the corners of his lips like a gallery of oil paintings forgotten in the rain.

“Oh.” You gaped at him; it always got so unbearably awkward the first time. “Um… what’s his name by the way?”

The boy must have had one ready before you even asked, sonnets of adoration bubbling in his throat and vibrant stars dancing behind his eyelids. And you had waited too—all bated breath, all whispering humbleness. Uncertainty swirled your guts like a desert oasis.

But when Alipede opened his mouth to speak, it was your name that had slipped out.

And again. And again. And again.

He said yours the same way people would when they cheered for sport: loud, excited, hopeful. You blinked. You heard him the first time, you just didn’t know what he meant by any of it. A “Huh?”, small and confused, left your lips. Then the cords clicked and the dots connected themselves.

“Oh, oh.” You dropped your face into your hands with a choked groan; the heat on your cheeks rivaling the scorching sun. Through the crack of your fingertips, Alipede’s smile remained constant.

He had named his rabbit after you.

—

The hallway got dustier and narrower the further you went down.

Once lunchtime rolled around, it was a maze of spilled drinks and childish destruction—foods and toys and everything imaginable going back and forth in the air until all of them hit the floor in a mass of ruination. One noon, you sighed and tugged on Alipede’s arm, leading him into the teacher’s lounge.

The place was empty. Well, no teacher here had ever bothered to stick with the kids until their second meal of the day, anyway. Once an incoherent excuse was out, they slipped into their cars and drove off into the distance. You never saw them again.

Your mom was around for breakfast sometimes, downing her portion wearily. She reeked of cheap booze. Of nightclubs and bad decisions. Once in third grade, you flushed her Seropin down the toilet by accident, thinking they were expired candy. Even then, your mom had come home wordlessly the next day with bloodshot eyes and bruised lips, and you hadn’t gone near her medical cabinet since.

Alipede leaned against the wall, a hand clasped over his nose obediently as you cleared out cigar stubs and crushed beer cans on the floor. Turning on the AC and opening a few windows seemed to help with the stuffy air inside. You guided the albino to sit at the table in the middle of the room, on chairs that creaked and felt too adult-like with foam for cushions. There was no one else around, but Alipede clung to your waist with a pout and pulled your seats closer than they already were. You giggled; you loved his clinginess, just as much as he loved you.

“We have—” Still joyful, you paused for effect and peered down the two trays on the table. “—Japanese food today! Curry over rice and miso soup. Have you heard of them before, Ali?”

Alipede, nose buried in your hair and mind probably somewhere up in the cloud, only blinked. His grip tightened around your waist when he asked, “No. What are they like?”

“Hmm…” You pursed your lips, “the curry has a thick and smooth texture that feels like velvet against your tongue. It also contains a blend of spices like cumin and coriander. Remember that, Ali? You said you couldn’t stand the pungent smell!” Your shoulders shook slightly as you laughed. “Don’t worry, it’s sweet and pretty mildly spiced. We have carrots and potatoes too! You said you loved them—“

On and on, you went about the dishes with gusto. He kept his eyes on you the whole time.

You used to wonder what Alipede’s world was like. A pitch black. A collision of sound waves and echoes. An overdose of nothingness. Long ago, you read a story about a father who sacrificed his son for the prosperity of their land. The boy grew up beautifully still, slaying demons and taking back the body parts that had been rightfully his since birth. A touching tale about defying fate and pushing forward in the face of adversity.

Still, Hyakkimaru was a fictional character, and Alipede was not.

You couldn’t begin to fathom the battle he had to go through every day, struggling to just be seen as a normal person, one with a life just as valuable as others.

But he hadn’t complained.

He hadn’t cried to you about the bullying either. Months ago before you came, the albino huddled inside a coop behind the school, holding onto his pet bolt-tight. He didn’t need to cry; his fading bruises and healing wounds already did the job for him.

Alipede’s lips curled up against the shell of your ear, dragging you further into the wool of a couch nearby. “You’re right, it’s just mildly spiced,” he whispered, low and content like a purring cat, between the messy tangles of your limbs, “could use a bit more sweetness, though.”

—

“I wanna get out of here,” you sighed almost dreamily by a pond in the garden, legs tucked under your knees in your favorite sundress, “maybe visit Japan one day. Or Korean. Anywhere is nice.”

You raised a hand to point at something. Maybe a bird passing by. Maybe a red hot orb flowing on the horizon, half-submerged by the Earth. What it was, it was promptly abandoned the moment Alipede grabbed onto your wrist and twined your fingers together.

“You’re not thinking of leaving me, are you?” Alipede’s pupils dilated in the setting sun, the white of his hair and your dress bleeding into one oversaturated canvas. “You told me you wouldn’t.”

“Of course not!” The answer came just as quickly, hurt and amusement wrapped up in the form of a pout written across your face. Even then, he hadn’t returned an apology. You had felt silly for even bothering to wait for one, but that was okay.

It was only Alipede, after all.

Instead, you squeezed his hand back, lacing your pinkie together in the naive gesture of a promise.

“I’ll be your eyes, Ali. For as long as I live.”

You swore through mirthful smiles and hushed voices. Here, tucked away from the common building and terrible adults, the world narrowed down to just you and him. And Alipede—your sweet, adorable, and lovely Alipede—whose head was on your lap and whose heart was forever yours, only stared back unblinkingly.

Then he giggled, pulling you forward. Against all senses, you held on, and the two of you toppled into the grass. Nighttime prickled at your skin like a bug as you laughed along with him, and the summer dragged on, neverending.

#killer peter #killer peter manhwa #manhwa x reader #killer peter x reader #manhwa #reader insert #x reader #yandere killer peter x reader #yandere killer peter #yandere alipede #yandere x reader #alipede x reader #x female y/n #x female reader #fem reader #killer pietro

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sheisjoeschateau · 7 months ago

Text

"Oh, so we DO love Steve..." | Part X

⋆⁺₊⋆ ☾⋆⁺₊⋆ SERIES MASTERLIST ⋆⁺₊⋆ ☾⋆⁺₊⋆

Steve Harrington x Bauman!fem!reader enemies to lovers, heavy angst, hurt/comfort, upside down mayhem, S2-S4, post S4 universe hot-take, end-of-the-world / dystopian setting, ugly fights turned smut (...but with hella plot). 18+

CHAPTER X WARNINGS/NOTES: t.w.'s - strong language, more angst, mention of dr*g abuse during childhood trauma, mentions of death and injuries, Max in a coma, fearful tears, shared sadness, major end-of-the-world terror talk. 18+

AUTHOR'S NOTE: As we dive deeper into just how in love Steve and Bauman continue to fall...we also dive deeper into darkness.

We get a glimpse into the childhood past of Bauman Squared.

Steve finally gets to laugh again with his kids -- and with the girl he wants to have his own kids with one day.

Dr. Owens comes back, but it's not why they expected. Erica is given the hardest burden of all. Robin & Eddie are the whacky aunt and uncle that everyone needed and basically get shit back on track while being thrown hard news. Argyle is actually just a kind dude. Nancy is pulling away, while Jonathan finally feels the gut-punching gravity of what he is losing. Jopper is still carrying the weight of both worlds.

And surprise, b*tches: DIMITRI IS BACK AND BOY IS HE SOOO BACK.

Lastly: chicken nuggets. That is all.

WHILE THIS IS A FANFICTION STORY: IT IS STILL MY WRITING. PLEASE RIGHTFULLY CREDIT ME WHEN REPOSTING OR SHARING. I DO NOT GRANT YOU PERMISSION TO POST MY WRITING AS YOUR OWN. - MISHA @sheisjoeschateau PROOFREAD UNTIL MY EYES BLED. IF THERE ARE STILL TYPOS, SORRY BOUT IT. 18+

⋆⁺₊⋆ ☾⋆⁺₊⋆⋆⁺₊⋆ ☾⋆⁺₊⋆⋆⁺₊⋆ ☾⋆⁺₊⋆⋆⁺₊⋆ ☾⋆⁺₊⋆⋆⁺₊⋆ ☾⋆⁺₊⋆⋆⁺₊⋆ ☾⋆⁺₊⋆⋆⁺₊⋆ ☾⋆⁺₊⋆

OH SO WE DO LOVE STEVE | Chapter X

“Why do I feel like this is some sort of twisted intervention?”

Erica Sinclair stood in the kitchen next to Murray as he cooked up something to share with a table of adults and teens — plus her.

“In a way, it is,” Murray responded to her as he stirred his ingredients.

“...okayyyy,” Erica sassed, suspiciously. “...then why do you want me here but not my brother or my other friends?”

Murray rolled his eyes. Erica’s attitude was truly the one thing that could bring Murray’s entire mental empire crumbling down like a tower of cards being blown over by a gust of wind. He pointed his spatula in her direction.

“Think of it this way, kiddo,” he said through a wry, condescending smirk. “It’s like getting invited to sit at the adults’ table instead of the kids’ table for thanksgiving. And you’re the only one we’re inviting before you get to go up there and hang out with your little friends. Alright?”

Erica narrowed her eyes. “What do I need to know that they don’t?”

Sauce dripped from the spatula as he stared at her. Christ, she was relentless. Then again…at least she seemed somewhat perturbed by the idea of knowing things before her brother and their friends. That was pretty damn selfless for Erica Sinclair. She cocked an eyebrow at Murray — who squinted back at her.

“Okay, why are you not as willing about this as I thought you’d be…”

“Look,” Erica said, crossing her arms. “If I’m going to be made to keep a secret? I need to know all the facts first. Especially if I have to keep it from my brother. And Steve. And Bauman.”

Murray sighed through his nose. She was right. Mature, and right.

“I don’t want you to keep it a secret for good,” Murray clarified, speaking slowly. “I just — we just need you to be made aware of some things before we bring it to everyone else’s attention. And truth be told? Harrington needs a break. So does my niece. And your friends? They need some time with mom and dad. You do, too. But right now? You’re the party member in charge of taking on some big information before we spread it to the rest of them. And quite frankly? I’m counting on you to help me — and the rest of us — help break it to them. Got it?”

Erica let all of that land, her guarded expression softening into one of civil understanding. She pursed her lips, considering this. Finally, she nodded.

“Alright. Deal.”

Murray shot her a thumbs up, resuming his cooking.

“That’s really lumpy,” Erica pointed to his saucepan with a soured expression.

“Ohforheaven'ssake —”

__________________________

Robin had taken on laundry duty on Steve’s behalf, knowing that Jonathan intended to talk with him. Which is why she’d asked Nancy to help her with it, and it has turned out to be a good thing.

Nancy was clearly fraying at the seams. There was a lot going through her mind, and it was all spiraling fast. She needed someone to talk to, but none of her options seemed safe.

She had no idea how or when to break everything she had been feeling to Steve.

Her relationship with Jonathan was so tense and strained, any conversation shared with him had just blown up.

And her mom would need to know everything about the upside down, in order to give her proper advice…and at this rate, that option seemed to have no place in this world.

She couldn’t go to Joyce, because that’s Jonathan’s mom.

Hopper and Murray were out of the question.

She wasn’t close enough with Eddie to even consider it.

And Argyle? Well, he’d said about as much as he could say. Far more than what she’d expected, if she was being honest.

Nancy’s only other option was Robin Buckley.

“God, I swear — the air’s a disease at this point.”

Robin had sat next to Nancy on the porch, carrying the laundry basket. Nancy quickly wiped a few stray tears, which Robin pretended not to notice – even when Nancy shot her a very forced, tight-lipped grin.

“Yeah,” Nancy chuckled wetly. “It’s uhh, yeah. Plagued at this point. Thanks, Vecna.”

Robin nodded with a smirk. “Yeah. Thanks a lot, Vecna. Fuck you, man.”

That made Nancy giggle, which Robin was grateful to see. She decided to start off slow, not wanting to force anything. After all, clearly Nancy was clearly going through it. And the way she and Robin had started off? Not great. Buckley was definitely not trying to push her luck. Sure, the two of them had gotten along super well as time passed, truly becoming friends while living in Steve’s house. But they weren’t exactly best friends. Friends for sure. But not like Nancy and Barb had been. Not even close.

“You know,” Robin mused. “Sometimes, I think back to high school and how…I never really had a best friend while I was there. Not like you did.”

That made Nancy turn to look at her, curiosity radiating for her bright blue eyes.

“You and Barb,” Robin explained. “You two were thick as thieves. She always made sure to take extra notes in Click’s class for you.”

Nancy’s eyes shone with melancholy fondness. “She did…?”

“Yeah,” Robin smiled. “Always. Saved them on little flashcards and everything. She was always like, ‘I gotta make sure I get this for Nance.’ Or whenever something crazy went down in the classroom, I could tell she was just itching to tell you about during lunch or after school.”

Nancy beamed at that. She shook her head, grinning widely. “God, I swear… Barb was like — like that little old lady who couldn’t help but wanna gossip. Even though she hated drama, she loved it at the same time. As long as it wasn’t hers or ours.”

“That totally tracks,” Robin snorted. “What an icon, really.”

“Schyeah,” Nancy giggled wholeheartedly. “Yeah, she…she was the best.”

Robin watched as Nancy gnawed at her lip, feeling the wave of sadness wash over her.

“I just wish…” Nancy murmured, voice shaky. “Just wish that I could…talk to her sometimes, you know? Not just to tell her how sorry I am. For everything that happened before she…”

Nancy’s voice trailed off. Robin dared to reach over and touch her shoulder, relieved when Nancy didn’t push her away or tense underneath her touch.

“I just wanna ask her questions,” Nancy’s voice shook. “So many questions, like…like the way we used to. As best friends. About — everything. Life, family, love…friends…the end of the fucking world…”

Robin nodded. “Yeah. Yeah, I know.”

Because Robin did know. Whenever she had become best friends with Steve, it had made her world significantly brighter. Her heart was full, and her soul had been lifted out of its constant anxiety-ridden state. Robin had been so closed off to bonding with anyone, especially the likes of Steve Harrington. Little did she know, that guy would end up being her truest best friend and confidant. The one she could lean on, tell anything to and count on for the rest of her life. However short that might be, given the end of the world… But she had Steve by her side, trusting him with every secret she had and her literal life in his hands.

Barb had been that for Nancy. But she was gone.

“I don’t know what to do,” Nancy’s voice cracked. She looked over at Robin with tear rimmed eyes, fighting them from falling as she bit down on her trembling lip. “About…anything.”

Robin kept listening, wanting so badly to go on a rant but willing herself not to. Because right now, it’s Nancy who needs to rant. She needed to ramble until she couldn’t anymore.

“I’ve been so…God, I’ve been so in love with Jonathan since we met and…got through all of this together. It just…just...worked. Clicked, made sense. Way more sense than Steve, but — but Steve and I, we…what we had was…it was real. Really real. Even Barb saw it, she just — just didn’t want me getting hurt, or…losing myself for a guy. But I didn’t really. Steve never pushed me to do anything that I didn’t wanna do, or…wasn’t ready for. Ever. Not once. He was kind to me, and…and I feel like…like I just… I think I’m the one who did wrong by him. Not the other way around. All because I just felt so…lost, and conflicted, and scared, and unsure, and…and…”

Nancy curled in on herself, tears falling down her cheeks as she ducked her face out of sight. But Robin scooched closer to her, enveloping her into a comforting embrace as she wept. And Nancy let her, allowing herself to lean against her.

“I told him what we had was bullshit and it wasn’t,” Nancy cried bitterly. “It wasn’t, he's not -- I was just…so fucking mad that Barb was gone. And it was easier to blame Steve, all because he wasn’t hurting the way that I was. The way that I still am. But that’s — that’s n-not — b-because he d-doesn’t…c-care…”

Nancy’s shoulders convulsed, and Robin’s heart broke for her as she held her tighter.

“B-but Jonathan had lost Will, so h-he…he got it. H-he knew wh-what I was…going through… And I-I j-just felt...so r-right with him. Because l-looking at him didn’t remind me of…of…”

Nancy choked on a sob.

Robin knew she meant Barb. She didn’t have to say it.

“I’m angry. For me, for Barb, for Steve, for Jonathan…my mom, dad, Mike…everyone. All the time. And I just d-don’t know what to do, because…Jonathan shut me o-out, and w-wanted to b-break up with m-me all because he felt like…he was…holding me back, and wouldn’t just t-talk…to me…and then S-Steve… Steve, h-he wanted me back b-but now…h-he…he loves…he loves…”

Nancy ugly cried into her palms, muffling the noise so that it wouldn’t be heard from anyone inside. Robin clung to her, rocking them back and forth with some gentle, soothing shushes.

“He loves her, Robin,” Nancy cried, heartbreak and anguish lacing her voice. “He loves her, and s-she loves him back. S-so much…b-better than I d-did…and I…I should be…so h-happy for him. And h-her, but I just…I just…wonder if I…did I…did I m-mess up…? Did I lose the p-person I was s-supposed to b-be with? I just didn’t…think he’d…move on…and that’s so…fucking SELFISH of me…”

Robin squeezed her. “It’s not selfish. It’s human. Steve is amazing. But Nancy…it’s okay that you didn’t go back to him.”

“But you thought I should,” Nancy leaned back now. She looked at Robin dead in the eye with bloodshot, red rimmed eyes. They swam in regrets, sorrows and bitterness.

“You and Eddie both thought that we should,” she said, voice croaked and upset. “Y-you both…thought that we…shouldn’t have…broken up, or…”

“You’re right,” Robin admitted, feeling bad but deciding it was best to just own up to it. “You’re right, I did. We did. Me and Eddie. But Nancy…sometimes we’re just so distracted by what seems right…that we can’t see what’s actually right in front of us.”

Nancy looked at her quizzically. Robin sighed.

“Look, when you left Steve,” Robin explained, taking her hand into both of hers. “Back in senior year, and you got with Jonathan…you two had your own journey. You had each other. Steve? Steve had no one during his — except for the kids…and Bauman. Because back then, he didn’t know yet. He didn’t know about her and Murray intervening —”

“Yeah, I know,” Nancy said bitterly. “We all know that now.”

“Just hear me out,” Robin pleaded with her softly. “I promise, I’m with you, alright?”

Nancy stared at her for a moment, finally softening her tense jaw and nodding once. Robin picked back up, on cue.

“Steve still had a lot of growing up to do. On his own. Dustin was the first to reach out to him. Well, he basically forced himself on Steve. And Steve needed that. He’s an only child. He needed a little brother to give him grief, and boss him around and pick on him. You have Mike. Steve didn’t have that until Dustin wormed his way into his life." Robin added with a smile, " ...and his heart.”

Nany thought about that, expression pensive with realization.

“Then Bauman came along,” Robin continued. “She was Steve’s age… You and Jonathan were off with the adults. He got left behind to watch the kids with her. They went through…a lot of shit that night. You did, too. But so did they. They fought off Billy Hargrove. They protected the kids, fought off the demodogs in the tunnels. They survived the night together. You know what that feels like. You and Jonathan bonded that way. Right?”

Nancy hesitates but looks back at her, sniffing. Eventually, she nods again.

“Right," Robin exhales deeply, proceeding. "So Steve… Steve had someone his age to be around, along with the kids. And that was great. Because she’s independent and badass, but also really chill and down to earth. Like, some sort of femme tomboy. Which Steve lowkey kind of needed, she really was exactly what --"

“Robin, I get it,” Nancy snapped, not wanting to hear about you in a complimentary way. At least not at this moment.

“No, hear me out,” Robin insisted, giving her hands another squeeze. “You need to hear this, Nancy, alright? You know you’re beautiful. You know Steve has been helplessly in love with you for years. That’s not even a question.”

Robin paused, shifting gears again as she refused to let Nancy look away from her.

“...but Steve had to move on. Or…find ways to convince himself that he could. And Bauman? She was there for that. She was around, during all his growth. And trust me – it was ugly. You have nothing to envy there. God, the way that they argued? The way Steve talked to her, honestly? Honestly. You would’ve slapped him. I sure as hell did a few times. Mostly verbal slapping. But I hit him a few times, not gonna lie. You’ve seen the highlights of Steve’s growth. You have seen the best parts of him, but…but Bauman was there for all of it. She got to see it all happen in real time, from the second you and Jonathan met back up with them to right now. And she owned up to her shit, too. It wasn’t her fault, by no means was it her fault. But hey, she took the hits. Many times. And she still ended up falling in love with Steve, who she swore was the last person who would ever win her over. Those two knuckleheads were relentless whenever I came into the picture. Fighting like lovers in a quarrel with absolutely zero history of affection to show for it. But still, they got through shit together. They put their differences aside for the kids, and when it came to fighting off the Russians? She and Steve honestly kept me so sane. And they kept us safe, too. Me, Dustin and Erica. They didn’t get along in the real world, but in the upside down world? They did. They didn’t even think twice. Steve grew into a way better person because of her. And she opened up a lot more because of him, and the kids. She didn’t grow up with siblings either. That’s another thing they have in common.”

Nancy took all of that in with a solemn expression. Robin let that sink in before continuing.

“I know this is…a lot. But really, Nancy…so much happened while you were gone. Those two fell in love over time without even knowing it. Shit, we didn’t know it either. That was a plot twist for all of us — including Murray. Despite what he says, that guy does not know everything.”

Nancy scoffed. “I know that.”

“Of course you do. We all do. He does, too. Especially now. Now that his niece and Steve are clearly so head over heels in love with one another.”

Nancy’s heart sank at that. She knew that it was true.

“I’m not…” Nancy mumbled, eyes downcast. “I’m not mad at her for falling in love with him. Or him. I just…can’t help but wonder if I messed up. Missed out on someone that I loved more than I allowed myself to when we were together.”

“You couldn’t have loved him more back then, Nancy,” Robin corrected her. “Because who he was then, is not who he is now. And who he is now is someone that Bauman has played a huge role in him becoming.”

Nancy sniffed a few times, bringing her knees to her chest and lost in thought.

“Do you still love Jonathan?”

Nancy looked at her, surprised. “What?”

“Tell me what you’re feeling there,” Robin pressed gently. “Why is that going wrong again?”

Nancy got defensive. “Um, what’s wrong is that he clearly planned on leaving me while I was back here being loyal to him.”

“Right,” Robin mused. “But…what about after he got back? What happened then?”

Nancy opened her mouth to speak, but couldn’t. She thought about that for a while.

“We just…” she started. “...we just…moved past it. We let it go.”

Robin nodded slowly. “After all you two have been through…knowing damn well that things need to be talked about…you both really thought that was best?”

“He doesn’t ever tell me how he actually feels,” Nancy snapped. “I’m so sick of it. I always have to push him to tell me things. He just — shuts me out. Clams up, retreats. He won’t even tell me when he’s upset about something unless I make him.”

“Well then,” Robin nods. “That’s definitely on him. But what about you?”

Nancy scrunches her face in confusion.

“Why didn’t you tell him how you felt either?” Robin asks, unblinking.

Nancy stares at her, not knowing how to answer that.

“I told him that I love him,” Nancy whispers. “And that I…that we’re fine.”

Robin’s expression softens. “Do you wanna be?”

Nancy’s face crumbles. “I…I want…”

Robin waits, not knowing what to expect but knowing that it’s getting somewhere.

“I want him to love me again,” Nancy cries in despair. “I want him to fight for me, and — and love me the way that I thought that he did. That he would. That he always would —”

Robin holds Nancy again as she convulses with sobs in her arms. They stay that way for a little while, allowing the dust to settle. Nancy has said enough for now. It would all unravel itself more over time.

Meanwhile, Eddie had told Jonathan to make his way upstairs and talk with Steve.

“You’re on, buddy boy,” Eddie told him with a hard pat on the back.

So while Jonathan made peace with Steve, Nancy had finally released some of her emotions and confided in Robin.

And now, all the adults were in the kitchen as Murray made some food for the older teens and Erica. They’d asked Robin and Eddie to make sure that Argyle, Jonathan and Nancy were all going to be present for it, along with Erica before she could go upstairs and join the kids.

So here they all were now: sitting at the dinner table while Murray and Erica served them up plates and bowls of random foods.

Jonathan had watched Nancy make her way into the kitchen with Robin, newly fresh faced and eyes puffy from crying. She wore her pajamas now, having taken a quick shower and washing off the anguish from her meltdown earlier. Jonathan’s heart cracked in two, and it did even more as Nancy went to sit next to Robin. He stood up, unable to help himself.

“I got you a seat here,” he said, voice shaky.

Nancy had looked over at him, eyes cold and expression blank.

“That’s alright,” she said, voice level and cool. “We share a room.”

Nancy sat next to Robin, demeanor cool and calm and collected. She was stiff, but there was a chilling resilience to her that Jonathan had not seen in a while. It terrified him, making his anxiety spike. Had he lost her? Was he too late?

He swallowed hard, accepting it — given everyone else at the table. Hopper had awkwardly reached for some pepper as this was happening, working in slow motion as he felt really uncomfortable. So Jonathan just nodded, and Joyce gave him a sympathetic look as she placed glasses of water and tea in front of everyone.

Eddie made concerned eye contact with Robin as he poured himself some water. Yikes.

“I’ll sit next to you, my dude,” Argyle said warmly, knowing he needed to step in. Jonathan was grateful for that, but still dying inside as he kept stealing glances at Nancy — who looked anywhere except his way.

Murray clicked his tongue loudly. “Alrighty then. Shall we?”

With a thud, he set down his plate. Joyce clenched her jaw but took a deep breath.

“Lay it on us,” Eddie said with a deep exhale, sitting down on the other side of Argyle.

“Yeah, what’s this pow-wow and why is it just this group who's on it?” Erica questioned as she stationed herself on the other side of Robin.

“Right,” Hopper sighed before shoveling a mouthful of mashed potatoes into his mouth and leaning back to chew, readying himself. Everyone waited patiently.

“Here’s the deal,” he began, leaning forward and eyeing everyone individually as he spoke. “No one here is being made to keep a secret. That’s not what’s going on.”

“So then why is it private?” Robin asked curiously.

“Because right now…we need to set some things straight. Set in stone. Before we dive into our group meeting tomorrow. Consider this…a board meeting of sorts.”

Jonathan furrowed his brow. “Don’t we want Bauman and Steve for that?”

Hopper sighed deeply, rubbing at his beard. “This affects them. And the kids.”

Eddie raised his eyebrows at that, feeling nervous. He looked over at Robin, who looked just as worried.

Erica scrunched her face up. “Then why am I here?…”

“Because I need one of you kids to be level headed and vouch for me,” Hopper explained. “And for Joyce and Murray. We’ve spent a lot of time figuring this out. Weighed out our options, talked to El about it.”

“Does she know?” Nancy asked.

“Some,” Hopper nodded. “Most… Not all.”

Erica leaned forward, truly listening and accepting that she was clearly going to need to stick with some sort of plan that her friends were not going to be keen on…

Hopper contemplated his next words carefully.

“Look. Tonight, I need those kids to rest. To laugh, play some card games. Eat too much candy, and just have a good night. Soak up all the fun they can get before this mandate goes into effect soon. And before we have to go forward with a plan.”

Hopper made sure that everyone was with him on that. Off their nods, he continued.

“There’s two groups. One that’ll stay here, in hiding. Down in the basement, where we’ve already started making up basecamp. They’ll have to stay hidden. Out of sight. Quiet. On high alert. It’s a gamble. Just because they’ll be home…it doesn’t guarantee them any safety.”

Hopper took a deep breath, eyes filled with dread. He rubbed at the gap between his pinched brows.

“…the other group will have to risk getting back out there. And we won’t be anywhere that’s not swarmed and completely surrounded by the government and — god-knows-who-else, before we can get ourselves back near the largest gate that’s torn itself open and is ready to swallow Hawkins.”

Everyone’s blood ran cold.

No one was safe. They weren’t before, but now? Nothing was off the table. Everything was high risk, no matter where anyone was stationed.

“If you’re sitting here,” Hopper continued slowly, voice grave, “at this table, listening to this conversation…minus Erica and Murray...you’re in Group 2. ”

Nancy and Jonathan both felt their chests constrict, but they understood. It didn’t surprise them per se. And at this point, nothing should scare them. But it did.

Joyce looked at her eldest son, torn but knowing it had to be done.

Erica looked over at Murray, who gave her a soft nod.

Robin and Eddie looked at each other, along with Argyle, shuddering.

“Dimitri is going with us,” Hopper added.

“Who’s he?” Jonathan asked.

“Russian soldier,” Joyce told him, holding up a hand to clarify. “He’s on our side.”

Jonathan hesitated but eventually gave her a small nod. He looked over at Nancy, who was staring down at the table with her teeth sunk into her bottom lip.

“He’s got insight,” Hopper continued. “Knows what we’re dealing with, and how to handle what we’re all up against. We’ll need as many of us as we can get out there. Those of us who know the risks, and know how to navigate this world.”

Robin processed that, thinking. “So that…where does that leave Steve and Bauman?”

Hopper was quiet. The way he gnawed his cheek made it clear that this was where it got messy.

“Steve is on the frontlines with us,” Hopper explained carefully. “…and Bauman is stationed back here with Murray and the kids, along with Dr. Owens.”

Robin’s heart sank, and so did Eddie’s. They both shared a sad, all-knowing look. They knew this wasn’t going to go well. At all. They knew that Steve was going to flip his shit at just the idea of leaving you out of his sight.

“Won’t Dr. Owens have a target on his back?” Eddie asked, concerned. “Won’t that — won’t that draw more danger here…?”

That made Robin look at Hopper, wide-eyed. The retired cop looked pale, eyes full of dread.

“He has to be here in case anything happens to Bauman or Max,” he explains solemnly. “Because if shit goes south here…they’ll need to run.”

Jonathan felt sick. This also meant leaving Will behind. “But…how? How can they run?”

“That’s where I come in,” Murray chimes in. “Between me and Erica and Dustin, we’ll be able to keep a close eye out for a signal — which Will can help us navigate.”

“Because he’s still connected to it all,” Joyce explains sadly. “He still…feels it. He senses when it’s near.”

“Which is why he’ll be able to give us a warning,” Murray nods, adding to Joyce’s input. “Since El has to be out there with you guys, we’ll still have a connected source that's here with us.”

“The kids can’t do this,” Hopper adds, tone firm. “Not this time. El doesn’t count, as much as I want her to stay back. She can’t. I know that.” He looks at Erica with parental eyes. “But as far as the rest of you kids go? No more. It’s already bad enough having to risk you all staying here. But if this is how it’s gotta go down? You’re staying where there’s a controlled space, with 2-3 solid abort mission plans — which Murray knows from top to bottom.”

Erica hangs her head, but she nods. She knows this makes sense.

“As for Bauman,” Hopper continues, eyes sad. “She’s not able to get back out there. Between her heart issues and her bad shoulder and ribs…she has to stay put.”

“No, I agree with that,” Robin says, voice full of gravel before she clears it. “But, umm…I’m just…really worried that…well it’s just — Steve, he’s um, he’s —”

“He’s going to have to do this,” Hopper interjects, but not unkindly. In fact, it’s full of empathy and remorse. “He knows the ways. You’ll all need him. His stamina, his strength. He’s strong, good with a bat and can outrun shit. He also knows what to keep an eye out for, whatever comes our way.”

Eddie gulps, partially because he’s terrified about facing the underworld again…but also because he knows that Steve will be a wreck the entire time he’s gone with them and not with you. And if Eddie’s being honest, the idea of leaving you and the kids behind is killing him too. He’s especially grown to love you and Dustin over the last year.

“This isn’t open for discussion,” Hopper says, voice firmer and tone low. “Tomorrow, when we have our living room meeting, I’ll be conveying this to everyone…along with Murray and Joyce. And I need to know I have each and every one of you on our side. Those kids are going to raise hell. All of them are. And this plan is not changing. It’s either this…or we all stay hunkered down until we rot. Am I making myself clear?”

Nancy and Jonathan nodded first, quickly followed by Robin and Eddie.

“Yes sir,” Argyle spoke first, and for the first time he genuinely looked aware of just how heavy all of this stuff really is. Jonathan gave his shoulder a quick squeeze.

“Erica,” Hopper was looking directly at the youngest person sitting across the table. “I’m counting on you. I know that’s not fair, but I am. You’re tough as nails. You’re gonna have to be that way with your brother, and his friends. Your friends. You'll have to be hard...but gentle enough to get it through to him. I don’t care what you gotta do, you do it. Whatever you have to say? Say it. And if anybody gives you shit for knowing this before they did…send them to me. Understood?”

Erica looked back at Hopper with the most somber expression. But she nodded.

“Understood,” she said, voice low.

Hopper gave her a curt nod before looking over at the older teens.

“As for you guys,” he said. “We all know the shit that just went down yesterday at the fence. Bauman’s always been at the frontlines with us. She can’t be now. And Steve cannot hang back. He’s got too much strength that we can’t afford to not have on our side of this battle. And I don’t care if Bauman insists she can do it. She can’t, and she won’t.”

“And if she gets stubborn,” Murray interjects, voice fierce. “Tell me. If she tries pulling a fast one? You tell me. Capiche?”

Eddie and Robin quickly nod up and down.

“I’ll talk to him if it gets bad,” Jonathan says in a weak voice.

Nancy narrows her eyes at him. Since when do he and Steve talk?

“Good,” Joyce says with a sad, tight-lipped grin and nod at her son. “He’ll need it.”

"I'll be there for him, too," Robin nodded at Jonathan.

“Will we be able to stay in contact with them at least?” Eddie asks pathetically. “Via the walkies?”

“When necessary...yes,” Hopper confirms. “We’ll have to be scarce about it. Selective. Nowhere is safe. It’ll have to be reserved for vital communication only.”

Eddie frowned, but nodded in understanding. Robin was currently biting her palm, consumed with dread and sickening anxiety. Leaving you behind? The kids? Even Murray, who everyone had come to appreciate in their own weird sort of way — mostly because of how much they all loved you. He was an extension of you. The whole situation just felt…fucked.

But wasn’t everything fucked? Wasn’t this entire world so catostrophically fucked in every single which way, seemingly irreparable?

Was there actually an end to this nightmare? A world in which the upside down would cease to exist…monsters would go back to their storybooks and dark, twisted fairy tales…the moon would only ever symbolize light within forgotten darkness...and the sun would never hide behind the ashy debris that currently clung to the air, just outside their windows?

Despite how everything looked grim, with seemingly no end in sight…you all persisted in choosing to believe. Yes. Yes, this was going to end.

The end of the world was nearing. It was inevitable.

But it wouldn’t be your world.

***

You never really put much thought into what having a family would feel like one day.

You’d wondered. Every little girl does. In young girlhood, there’s the beauty of innocence that protectively surrounds all grown-up dreams that fuel your wildest imagination. The dreams of never having to go to school, and being in charge of everything you want. The dreams of being able to eat whatever you want, whenever you want. The dreams of meeting your future husband, and getting to wear a big white, sparkly ballgown as you walk down the aisle to your happily ever after. The dreams of being a princess in a big castle, ruling the land and having cake for breakfast, lunch and dinner, and tea parties everyday with your friends.

Sure, you’d had those dreams as a little girl. How could you not? It was inevitable.

But as you grew older, you didn’t really have a chance to fantasize about much. You’d been made to grow up from a very young age. Your grandmother had been there for you enough. She kept a roof over your head. Food on the table. A very generous allowance, even though you never asked for one and you’d gotten yourself a job by the age of 13 painting peoples’ houses and doing yard work. You’d even gotten hired by your uncle to do data entry for him, along with a couple of his contacts who did intense investigative research and needed someone to work remotely. You earned your own living, and you did upkeep on your grandmother’s house — despite her never asking you to do so. She was gone a lot. She wasn’t very old. Just a smoker who liked casinos and taking trips with her “friend” from time to time. A woman, who she only ever referred to as her "assistant." You knew better than to believe that, but you never said anything about it. She was a closeted lesbian — which is why Robin coming out of the closet for you had been the easiest news to take, let alone support. Your grandmother was a tough, long-acrylic-nails-donning boss bitch who did whatever the hell she wanted. You’d gone with her many times to some casino resorts, mostly staying in the hotel room or just walking around the city. It felt like living with a Mafia Mobwife. It was cool, for the most part. But it definitely meant being able to hold your own. She’d raised herself when she was a kid — and in most ways, you did too.

It’s why you’d spent so much time with your uncle, who didn’t live very far. He was home a lot. Given his line of work, he didn’t go out much. He became even more of a hermit as the years went on, and you liked that. It meant consistency. His spare room basically became your room. It couldn’t exactly be considered a “guest room” when he never had guests over. You’re the only person he invited over for company, and he loved it. The two of you got along effortlessly. His dark humor rubbed off on you early on, which your grandmother shared in but she wasn’t nearly as quick-witted as Murray. That’s where you got it from. But your dry, snarky wit was much more selectively timed than his. He was all over the place. You had solid social cues, given that you went to school and were around people often. Your uncle was definitely an oddball. But you loved him to death, and you got him better than anyone else did.

You weren’t babied. You weren’t coddled, or sheltered, or given false hope about the world. It’s why you held your own, and it’s also why you never victimized yourself. It was to a fault, but you believed it was for the best.

So when Clark broke your heart into a million pieces, you told yourself it had been a risk from the start. A gamble, just like the poker tables at those casinos that your grandmother frequented all the time. Love was a dangerous game, and it spared no one. There were winners and losers — and you’d lost this one.

But right now, in this moment, you felt as though you had just won every single jackpot that there was to win.

Because right now, you were sitting in Steve’s lap on the floor of Max’s room in his big house, holding cards closely to your chest as Lucas screeched GO FISH at Dustin. Steve’s hand was in plain sight, and if you were a cheater you’d have him beat in seconds. But you didn’t need to win a stupid card game…because you had won the greatest game of all: life.

El and Mike were cuddled up close to each other, giggling and being young teens in love. In a normal world, you would assume it to be puppy love between them. But this world wasn’t normal, and the shit that they’d been through together wasn’t any different than what you and Steve had been through together. It was real love, and you let them be that way.

Lucas was seated next to Max in her bed, holding her hand and laughing like a kid again. Dustin was hoarding all of the candy from his backpack (so much for sharing) and laughing like a buffoon. He bickered with Steve and the kids as usual, but something about it was just so…bright. Hearty laughter bounced off the walls, and there were so many times that Steve had belly laughed — along with you and the other kids — that you’d all lost count.

Sometimes, you swore that you saw Max’s lips twitch. As if she could hear you all in her coma, wanting to laugh along with everybody. Lucas would talk to her as if she could hear you all just fine, squeezing her hand and kissing her forehead while showing her his hand in cards. Dustin even gave her a sleeve of her favorite candy — just for her. He might not have basic manners with the rest of you, but Max? Always.

Will was keeping score, seated next to you and Steve with the biggest smile you had ever seen him wear. He laughed hysterically the entire night, even going as far as verbally expressing adoration for you and Steve. Dustin would pretend to gag, but Will would just tell him he knew better than to think that the curly-haired smart alec wasn’t completely in love with the two of you being together. Dustin had grinned all dopey and wide, rolling his eyes but not arguing with him any further.

At some point, Mike suggested all swapping ghost stories.

Lucas had barked the loudest laugh. “How about the one we’re currently living??”

“Hey, hey,” Steve interjected. “I got a better idea. Tell your most embarrassing story. One you’re scared shitless to tell.”

You'd grinned in his arms, snickering. “Oh I got plenty of those.”

“I mean hey,” Dustin shrugged with a mouthful of candy. “If we’re gonna die, we might as well get real.”

“Okay chill, we’re not going to die,” Steve scoffed, hiding his internal worry.

“It’s possible,” Mike shrugged, grabbing another bag of M&M’s.

Steve huffed. “Dammit, Wheeler —”

Mike’s devilish grin was infuriating yet endearing at the same time.

“I wish Max could hear all of this,” El said with a tinkering laugh.

You gave her the warmest of smiles and a wink. “Trust me. She does.”

“Hell yeah,” Lucas smiled wide, squeezing Max’s hand. “I’ll even tell one of her stories, for her.”

“...dude, she’s gonna kill you,” Dustin warned him, but there was a smirk lifting at the corner of his lips.

“I’ll go first,” Will announced, laying on his stomach as he ate some popcorn. “One time? I was asleep in bed but I woke up because I heard Jonathan moaning so loudly — like, disturbingly loud —”

“Okay, maybe I needed to lay down some ground rules here —” Steve starts with a very tight voice as you snorted into your palm.

“Just hear me out,” Will laughs, holding a hand. “I thought it was with a girl —”

“William,” Steve scolded.

“But he was in the bathroom,” Will talked over him. “Shitting his brains out.”

Dustin cackled while Mike audibly expressed disgust while laughing at the same time. El looked shocked, giggling hysterically into her hand.

“Damn, that bad?!” Lucas roared.

“He lit every candle in the house,” Will cackled. “Mom went to use it shortly after him and came barreling into our rooms to ask us in a panic what had died up one of our butts!”

Steve collapsed into you laughing, and you couldn’t even breathe from laughing so hard. It was that sort of deep laughter that’s so painful because it’s quiet before you’re able to finally erupt with loud laughs that help you come down from a high. All the kids were a fit of cackles and giggles, too. Erica made her way into the room finally, jumping right into things and bringing cookies with milk. All of you exchanged stories, allowing yourselves to only cry tears of joy. It was exactly what you all needed, long overdue.

And for the first time in ages — none of you thought about the upside down, or the impending doom that awaited you just outside of the Harrington house throughout all of Hawkins.

That night, you and Steve tucked every single of your kids into their assigned sleeping bags and cots. Lucas stayed with Max in her bed, asking you sheepishly if that was alright. You’d nodded, along with Steve — more than approving. And given you both would be chaperoning that night in the same shared room, you also let Mike and El cuddle up together in a sleeping bag.

“Hands outside of the covers, Wheeler,” Steve warned him, but he gave him a wink — adding please at the end. Even Mike gave him a smile and nod, like a little kid who felt called out but also didn’t have any intention of disobeying.

Dustin and Will joked in high pitched voices about being bunkmates with their sleeping bags next to each other, given they were the two singles of the group. Technically, Erica was too. But even if she wasn’t, she would still demand her own space. She had situated herself on the floor beside Lucas’s side of the bed, not planning to give him a hard time for a good while given what was in store for everyone tomorrow.

As for you and Steve — the two of you had stationed yourselves in the center of the room, closest to the door. That way, you could see all your kids at any point during the night and also be the first to fight off any harm coming your way, should danger lurk on the other side of the locked bedroom door.

Steve ruffled Dustin’s hair as he dozed off, earning a sleepy little “hmph” from him. After he made sure all of them were comfortably settled in for the night, he crawled over to you. His nail bat was propped somewhere nearby — ready to be swung into action if need be. But the need for it that night never came.

You curled into Steve’s chest, breathing in his clean, masculine scent and allowing it to fill all of your senses. Sighing contentedly, you felt a rush of warmth wash over you as his lips pressed into the top of your head.

“I love you so much,” he whispered.

“I love you more,” you murmured in the softest of whispers.

You felt him chuckle against you. “Impossible,” he breathed into your hair, pulling you so close to him you might as well be the same body.

And had you not been so completely relaxed in his arms, you might have fought him on it. The whole "I love you more" thing. In fact you definitely would have. But you just hummed, dozing off in his strong arms and allowing sleep to find you.

***

Waking up had been beautiful. The sun was even more hidden than usual, plagued by the new world coming into fruition. But despite the lack of sunshine outdoors, you felt as though it shone through the entire room as all the kids woke up and whispered to each other. You pretended not to hear them when they talked about you and Steve. Because if you were being honest? You’d been dying to hear their uncensored thoughts. If they thought that you weren’t listening, they wouldn’t hold back from saying what was actually on their mind.

Turns out? All of them wanted this. The two of you together. They laughed about how some of them thought that Steve was going to end up with Robin at first.

“No way,” Lucas shook his head in a confident whisper. “Those two? They’re like brother and sister.”

“Yeah, but Bauman’s so out of his league,” Mike whispered back.

“She is not,” Will added in a defensive whisper.

“She so is,” Mike whispered indignantly.

“No way, Steve’s awesome,” Dustin defended in a whisper.

“Yeah but like,” Mike whispered, pondering with a sigh. “I mean yeah. He is. I like him. He’s cool. Way cooler than I thought he was at first. But Bauman’s literally a badass. She doesn't care what people think.”

“Steve doesn’t care anymore,” Erica chimes in, speaking softly. She’s actually pleading Steve’s case and it’s adorable. “He used to. But when we were down there with the Russians? And he had to wear that stupid sailor outfit for work?…”

“Oh my god,” Dustin snickered. “That shit was so funny.”

“He looked like Shirley Temple from the Good Ship Lollipop,” Lucas snickered back, and Will had to shush them so that they wouldn’t wake you up.

“My point is,” Erica continued with sass. “Steve doesn’t give a shit what anyone thinks of him now. I mean…he gave her hell the whole time I was around ‘em.”

“I still don’t get that,” Mike whispered.

“Me either,” El added quietly.

“What do you mean?” Dustin whispered in confusion. “I told you guys the whole story. That once upon a time ramble I had to sit through when Murray basically went on to give us an entire rundown on the two of them?”

“Well duh,” Mike whispered in annoyance. “I know that. But dude…she’s…like, she's...”

“Hot.”

Everyone went quiet, and you stiffened as you held back laughter. Because the person who had called you hot? It was El.

“Bauman is hot,” El repeated.

Eventually someone snorted. Then, they all did. You bit back laughter, blushing into Steve’s chest with your face kept hidden.

“You’re hot,” Mike added to her in a coy whisper.

“No, you are,” she whispered back sweetly.

“Enough,” Erica whispered definitively.

“Max thinks that Steve is hot,” Lucas scoffed.

“He is,” Erica and El said at the same time.

“Hey,” Mike whined, and they all shushed him.

“Face it, dude,” Dustin whispered flatly. “He is. I wish I looked like him.”

“You look great, man,” Will assured him. “You got a girl like Suzy. You gotta be a stud to catch someone like her.”

Dustin had blushed at that with a wide, dopey grin. “Think so?”

After listening to them chat some more, eventually Steve started to stir. He’d told them good morning, to which Dustin all too happily responded with a very loud good morning back —- making Steve audibly groan and bite back curse words. The kids all snickered.

Will started handing out drawings out to everyone. You all had been sketching and drawing together in your assigned room earlier the day before, while Steve had been getting Max’s room ready. Will had told you all to draw a picture of someone else in the party. He’d even chosen who was drawing who.

Will and Lucas drew each other.

Mike and Erica drew each other.

El and Dustin drew each other.

And you drew Steve, before he joined you all and eventually drew his original art piece of you while you all played a round of the Game of Life.

Here you were now: holding your drawing close to your chest, and wiggling your eyebrows at Steve. He gave you the most adorable smirk, his cocoa brown eyes still a bit sleepy and his perfect hair the sexiest case of bed head. He stretched, toned arms flexing and his white t-shirt clinging to his muscles in all the right places while being loose enough to wanna rip it off of him…

Not the time, Bauman, you mentally scolded yourself.

Steve had reached underneath his pillow to fetch his drawing of you, holding it to his chest and sitting across from you — crossed-legged and shooting you a wink. All the kids mirrored you both, sitting opposite their assigned art piece subject with throaty giggles and snorts.

Will looked at everyone excitedly, like a proud art professor, ready for his classroom to partake in show-and-tell.

“Alright,” he smiled. “Everyone ready?”

“Yeah, you go first, Byers,” Steve nodded at him with an encouraging grin.

Will blushed. “Oh…well…I mean…I should go last. You guys first. On the count of 3, everyone turn your photos around to your partner.”

Mike snorted as he stared down Erica. “Howdy, partner,” he drawled in a fake accent. El giggled, and so did Lucas.

Erica shot Mike a wry smirk. “Easy now, cowboy.”

“Bet you made me look like a total loser,” Mike snickered.

“I don’t have to draw you to make you look like that,” Eric’s said in the most sugary sweet, sarcastic voice.

“Okay snarkbutts, settle down,” Steve scolded lightly in a groggy voice, no heat behind it. “Will has the floor. William: proceed.”

Will saluted him. “Alright. Count of 3.”

“Please tell me you gave me teeth,” Dustin mumbled lowly to El.

“One…”

El shrugged. “I dunno.”

Dustin narrowed his eyes.

“Two…”

Steve gave you a coy look, asking in the lowest of mumbles, “How big’s my hair?”

You grinned like a devil, your voice lower. “Not as big as your other best trait.”

Steve lifted a very cocky eyebrow with a deepening grin.

“Three!”

Everyone turned their papers around, and a soft silence fell over you all minus a few little reactive intakes of breath.

Dustin had drawn El with a million eggo waffles in the sky around her. She looked like the most adorable cartoon character, with anime eyes and full cheeks. Her hair was shorter, the way she’d looked back in ‘83 whenever she’d returned. But it wasn’t slicked back. It was free, curly and a little wild. Her smile was innocent and childlike, and there was a policeman in the back waving. Hopper.

El had drawn Dustin with his signature cap and his big toothy grin — which made him beam, because she did give him teeth in the drawing after all. And in this drawing, there were bubble boxes above him that read all the quotes she associated with him, like Steve! and She’s our friend and she’s crazy! and Shit shit shit shit shit!

Mike had drawn Erica into a comic strip. He showed her as just a wee tike, then at Scoops Ahoy with an ice cream cone, then playing DND. The last image of the strip showed her with her arms crossed and a triumphant smile, with a banner behind her that read Welcome to the Party. (…as Erica looked at it, she felt the most unfamiliar warmth seep into her bones and the joyful sting behind her eyes sent her into pure shock.)

Erica had drawn Mike on his bike, riding through the neighbor with his backpack and a flashlight. His dark hair blew in the wind, and there was a thought bubble above him with little heads that resembled all of his best friends. Above him and the thought was a quote: “Mike Wheeler: nerd, snark machine and superhero to all.” (…Mike felt so emo, he didn’t know what to do with it.)

You had drawn Steve in a very chic sort of hot anime-like way. It honestly looked like an actual character that existed in an anime universe. In the drawing, Steve held his nail bat in one hand and a McDonald’s happy meal in the other. He didn’t quite understand that part at first — until he spotted behind him, there was a Winnebago. Six familiar faces, very stick-figure-esque, stood there waving. You also stood there, with a quote above your head: “six-piece nuggets, coming right up.” Steve breathed the fondest of chuckles as he took it all in, wanting to laugh and smile and cry and tackle you with his kids all at the same time.

Steve’s drawing of you was more adorable than you ever thought him capable of drawing. You were the cutest little cartoon, backpack over your shoulder with combat boots — but you were wearing the most beautiful dress. It was yellow, which complimented the happy blue sky behind you. Yours and Steve's favorite colors combined. There was a big house behind you, with seven other stick figures that looked an awful lot like Steve and your six nuggets. And right next to you, there was a dictionary-esque definition of you:

BAUMAN (Pronounced bow•men)

A professional love-life ruiner; cute but psycho; hardcore but soft; too smart for her own good; humor darker than the dark espresso she drinks straight, because she’s a sociopath; also hotter than said cup of coffee; terrifyingly beautiful from the inside out; my mortal enemy turned favorite person; the girl who makes everything make sense; someone I can’t fathom living without, and can’t believe I ever thought I could; the love of my life, in this one and the next and so on, so long as she’ll have me.

You had never felt so full in your entire life, and neither had Steve. The two of you just stared at each other’s drawings. Grinning, glassy-eyed, chuckling, aching, filled with every ounce of joy and every ounce dread — all at once. Neither of you could speak, but neither of you had to. Your eyes, along with his, spoke volumes. They said everything there was to say, just as much as your sketches did.

Lucas had drawn Will in a wizard’s outfit. He held a tall, majestic scepter — with a large hat on top of his head. Surrounding him was a large swirl of colors, whimsical and light, painting a galaxy of sorts. And in this galaxy, there were little floating stick figures with all his friends’ names above them. Will was smiling in the drawing, with his hands in the air and on top of the world. Literally, because in the picture he was standing on top of a globe.

As for Will...he had drawn Lucas at a basketball game. He was scoring the winning basket, and an entire crowd cheered behind him. All of you were there. Will was there, next to all his friends. You and Steve were next to each other, along with his mom, Jonathan, Nancy, Argyle, Eddie, Robin and Hopper. Even your Uncle Murray.

And Max…that’s where Will’s drawing got unique.

She was piggybacking Lucas, as he jumped and shot the winning score of the game, her laugh radiating through all the pens and crayons and markers that Will had used to sketch her. She was alive, as were the rest of you. Very much alive.

Just as you all were right now, inside one of Steve Harrington’s many bedrooms in his big house with no parents.

No matter what doom was swiftly approaching — no matter what monsters were looming underneath the surface, and already roaming the real world — you all were together. You had each other.

You always will.

***

Late morning upstairs has been kind to you. It's been light. Hopeful.

There’s something about walking downstairs that makes the energy shift. It sends an odd sort of chill up your spine, despite Steve’s arm draped securely over your shoulders as you wear one of his large gray hoodies with your bad arm in a sling. You feel a certain pang in your chest as the kids follow you all down into the kitchen…but this time, it’s not because of your heart arrhythmia.

As Hopper and Joyce smile at you all in the kitchen, greeting you warmly and having prepared a table full of pancakes that had smiley faces decorated with whipped cream and chocolate chips and strawberries on top — something about the scene frowns at you. A deep frown that you’ve seen on everyone’s faces whenever there is bad news waiting to be shared.

Your uncle is coming over to hand you a hot cup of decaf coffee, winking at you and Steve as he gives him a tight shoulder squeeze. He’s moving past you both towards the man named Dimitri, who is walking in from the living room. Murray brings him over to introduce you.

“Dimitri, this is my niece,” Murray grins.

You shake his hand firmly with your good arm, smiling gratefully. “Heard a lot about you.”

“You as well,” the man says with a genuine smile, kind vibrant eyes and a thick Russian accent. He’s definitely seen some shit.

“And this is Steve,” Murray gestures, a bit of a coy glint in his eye. “Her boyfriend.”

Steve blushes, a soft smile gracing his features and shining through his eyes. He wholeheartedly adores being called that out loud for the very first time: your boyfriend.

Your uneven heart skips several more beats, which typically would raise a lot of concern — but at the moment, you’re too fucking happy to care or pay it any mind. You watch Steve flash his signature charming smile and reach out to firmly shake hands with Dimitri, who is looking back at your handsome boy with the widest grin. The masculine exchange of lighthearted friendly words between the two men makes your stomach dance for some reason, especially as your uncle chuckles along with them.

This is completely uncharted territory for you. Nothing about this moment is familiar. But you could really get used to it. It’s new. And you adore it.

Dimitri meets the kids, who all take to him very well. Especially El, who seems to already be familiar with him. Likely because of Hopper. Jonathan and Argyle are being introduced to him by Joyce, while Eddie is rounding the corner with a big stretch and yawn. Steve shoots him a smirk as the metalhead makes his way over for a big ole bro hug, whispering something to him that makes Steve snort while Eddie grins like a devil. Steve swats at him playfully, successfully smacking him as Robin walks in with Nancy close behind. Steve’s quirky platonic soulmate makes her way over to you with a warm smile, swinging an arm over your shoulders so that she’s nearly headlocking you in a hug. She’s a bit taller than you, by just a couple inches, so it gives her some upper hand. You’re chuckling lightly, nose scrunched and tightly winding your good arm around Robin’s waist as you smile back at Nancy. Her eyes are still sad, a bit lost. But there’s no animosity there, at least not that you see. She looks at you shyly, timidly…but with utter kindness.

Unbeknownst to you — Robin had suggested to Nancy that she stay with her last night in Steve’s room. For Nancy, that had been…hard. Necessary, but hard. For multiple reasons. For one thing — the last time she’d slept in Steve’s room, she had been his girlfriend. Being asleep in there 2 years later without him, now as his ex, brought back a flood of memories — bittersweet and haunting. Being in his bed, twisted up in his sheets, felt wrong. But she just couldn’t bring herself to sleep next to Jonathan that night. Not yet. Not after everything that had unfolded. So Robin had stayed up talking with her, having a heavy heart to heart. But it turned out to be exactly what Nancy needed. Just what the doctor ordered. Robin Buckley had unintentionally become a nurse of sorts over the last several months, and maybe even somewhat of a therapist. Although — Argyle sort of had her beat in that department earlier that afternoon. But he was the much simpler kind. Whereas Robin got deep, given her innate gift at rambling until you were given no choice but to cut her off because your most honest thoughts were yanked out of you as you were made to listen to her ranting. Nancy had cried some more, but she’d also laughed. A comforting mixture of both smiles and frowns were shared between the two unlikely friends. Robin wasn’t Barb, nor would any other girl be that kind of friend to Nancy. Robin was very different from Barb. However, her heart was just as loving. She loved hard, and it showed. She let Nancy pour her heart out, pouring some of her own out in return. And somehow…somehow…it brought Nancy some newfound peace and understanding.

So as she looked at you now, having seen you come downstairs with Steve and the kids — now introducing yourselves to the new Russian house guest, and sharing a special connection with Eddie and Robin in a way that only settled couples so effortlessly did — Nancy could see something in the two of you that she’d not known Steve capable of being while she in a relationship with him. And while she selfishly ached for her younger self who’d missed out on having that with him (and sometimes still found herself pining after), she selflessly began to feel happy for Steve. And she even began to feel some happiness for you. Not completely. Not yet. She couldn’t quite commit to making full peace with it all, given that healing takes time. A very long time. But as time continued to pass, which Nancy hoped you all would still be granted given the circumstances of the crumbling world, she knew that she would eventually get there.

Murray and Dimitri were saying something funny, making Hopper and Joyce share a hearty laugh with the two of them while the kids were asking the new gentleman a million questions. Steve made his way over to you and Robin, hugging you both — and Eddie threw his arms around all of you, resulting in fond groans and grunts from you all along with big smiles.

Nancy and Jonathan made unintentional eye contact as this happened, but Dustin shouting GROUP HUG! snapped their focus away again. The boys all bear hugged you guys while El and Erica were already pouring syrup onto their pancakes.

Eventually, you all sat down to enjoy a feast. And while it tasted so deliciously sweet…the bitter aftertaste stemmed from looming doom that creeped just beneath the surface of your feet. The energy shift was still felt, and despite the warmth of homemade pancakes and Steve’s hand on your thigh…your blood ran cold.

***

It was the early afternoon that finally unveiled the darker energy shift you had all been sensing since that morning, after you left the comforting quarters of your little family sleepover.

Everyone was now seated in the living room now — the way you always were, when it was time for you all to have a group meeting and listen to Hopper go over a plan of sorts or give a rundown to the household. Except this time, Dimitri was here along with Dr. Owens. It wasn’t like all the other times. This was different. Very different.

This one scared you.

Maybe they all should’ve. All these talks that centered around the end of the world. All these household meetings about the impending doom that came with said end-of-the-world. But somehow, you’d grown accustomed to them. Comfortable. It meant you were all still alive and that you all had something worth fighting for. And it had always meant there would be another meeting.

But there was an unsettling sort of feeling of finality to this meeting that set it apart from all the others. And as Hopper stood with both Joyce and your uncle Murray…you felt goosebumps scatter up and down your arms and legs, regardless of Steve’s warm oversized hoodie and your leggings and socks. Their faces were somber, a bit grim. Murray kept his arms tightly crossed while Joyce fiddled nervously with her hands. Even Hopper, ever the strong and firm type, looked nervous. Maybe even afraid.

They spoke all slowly, taking their time with why everyone was there — why Dimitri was now in the picture along with Dr. Owens — and what all needed to be discussed. And the longer they spoke, the thicker the air got. Tension spread around the room. It was especially evident as none of the kids were making a sound. They hadn’t uttered a single word. Not one of them. The adults had the floor, and when they asked Dimitri to stand with them, you all knew this was going to go in a bad direction.

So when they all told you the plan, looping Dr. Owens into the picture and why he not only was here for this talk — but here to stay — the gravity of the current situation landed.

You all felt your souls plummet to the deepest depths of your stomachs with a hard thud, as Hopper revealed two large whiteboards. They both had entirely different detailed layouts…and beside each one, there were two separate lists of names.

One list of names would be at the frontlines. The people who would be diving head first into the upside down and all of its perils.

One list of names would be hiding out here. The people who would maintain home base, helping operate things from the other side in the real world, while risking the chance of being found, caught and killed.

Both sides were at risk. Both teams could die. Both groups might not ever live to see another day, or each other, ever again.

As Steve stares at your name, along with the names of all of his kids aside from El, on the opposite whiteboard from his own name…he feels bile rising in his throat. His stomach twists into knots, deeply tangled with unbearable anxiety and anguish. His mind races, but his lips don’t move. Fear paralyzes him, rendering him speechless as the adults keep talking and gesturing to the boards. The castle on a cloud that his dreams have just began to build for the two of you, walls high and protecting you both along with his kids — his family — was drifting away from him. And all he could do was watch it drifting further and further away, into the void, as he stared into space.

You felt his grasp on you instinctively tighten as his muscles stiffened. Steve was rigid against your back, and you were grateful that he couldn’t see your face right now. You were sitting between his legs on the longest part of his couch, facing the same direction as you took in the whiteboards while absorbing all the information that was being relayed to the group. With a harsh swallow, you risked peeking at everyone else’s reactions — quickly scanning the room with your eyes.

Mike’s usually sour expression looked far more sad than it usually did. He only ever looked like that when El was in danger, or things were spiraling out of control. He sat on top of the coffee table with his elbows in his lap, crouched forward and staring a hole into one of the whiteboards. Dustin’s mouth was agape, and his unusual silence was loud. He hadn’t said a word from where he sat on the couch next to Erica. Will sat on the other side of Jonathan, brow furrowed and heart blue. He knew the risks being taken, and it hurt his soul seeing that he would be apart from his mom and brother. He felt as though he always had been, ever since this all began, and it seemed to be a never ending circumstance. Lucas was taking it all in from his seat on the leg of the couch, hands wrung and expression reserved — but defeated. He’d really grown into a young man this past year, and he’d been taking so much in stride. But even so, he looked conflicted. Really conflicted.

After taking in the kids’ reactions, your eyes swept over to Robin and Eddie. She was seated in the giant loveseat, per usual, with Eddie perched on the arm of it. You narrowed your eyes as you caught sight of Robin fiddling her thumbs, eyes darting up and down from her fingers to the adults with the whiteboards. Eddie was bouncing his knee anxiously, nibbling at his fingernails — which were already bitten to stubs. While the two of them looked to be taking this hard, the way that the rest of you were…they also seemed to be absorbing it a bit differently. As if maybe they had a hunch about it already…

It wasn’t until Erica stood up to sit by Lucas with zero prompt that you felt slightly suspicious. Because as she did, Robin shot a very quick tight-lipped smile in Erica’s direction with eyes that radiated sympathy. Did they know this was coming? Is that why Erica had come upstairs with the cookies and milk later than the rest of the kids?

You sighed through your nose, focusing back on Hopper as he gestured for Dr. Owens to stand up with them. The older man made his way to the center of the tense room, hands dug deeply into his pockets and wearing a very sympathetic smile.

“I’m really grateful you all have put a lot of faith in me, despite everything,” he said humbly. “Truthfully, it’s not owed. I know that. Still…I promise you’re in good hands with me. Not those guys out there. Hence why I’m here. And I know you’d have already figured out by now if I was still working for that side of things. Between El and Will, and all of you crazy smart folks, I’m outnumbered.”

He added a light chuckle at the end that nobody returned. Dr. Owens sighed, taking no offense. He knew this was not going to be taken well.

“I’m in this fight with you,” he said, stronger than how he spoke before. There was conviction in his tone that he never really used, and it only heightened just how severe things currently were. “If it were up to me? None of you would be out there. I’d be out there on the frontlines. But…given Max’s comatose state, and Bauman’s heart condition, I know I’m needed here. Which is just as big a risk that’s being taken out on the battlefield, because we’re staying in Hawkins as the evacuation notice and mandate goes into effect. The city will be swarmed with government officials who are all behind this. We’ll be surrounded from all angles. No one is safe.”

You’re pretty sure that Steve had stopped breathing at this point, and the veins that prominently stuck out from his arms tightly wound around you made your throat close up.

“I’ll be here to monitor Max, along with Bauman. I’ve got plenty of medication to help steady the heart arrhythmia, and anything vital needed for a medical emergency — on anyone’s behalf, not just Bauman’s and Mayfield’s.”

“But…what happens if…”

A tight voice made everyone’s heads whip in its direction. It was Dustin speaking, eyes wide with fear. He wasn't being his usual cocky, overly confident self. He looked and sounded genuinely fearful.

“…what happens if we’re caught? What do we do? Where do we go?”

Murray sighs, stepping forward. “We’ve thought about that. Right now, there’s only 2 options. But they’re solid. The best we’ve got right now. One more than the other. See, look —”

Murray went into detail about an abort-mission plan, but it sounded distorted in your ears as the gravity of the situation weighed down on top of your shoulders: you were all splitting up. And this time might be the last time.

At some point, Mike had started to finally come to life. His snark was returning, but even he wavered and the fear in his voice wasn’t concealed. Hopper and El had to level with him, which only flustered Mike and caused him to stutter. They had him beat, and he knew it. He wanted to storm off, but Erica had told him to sit his ass down and listen. It was so unexpected that he did as she said. But your own brain was playing it all in slow motion. As Will began asking questions with Dustin, you could see how Lucas had looked like he wanted to ask Erica if she might have already known something — but he didn’t. Dr. Owens was saying something about Will being tied to the other side of things and being the assigned “El” of their group opposite of her, which fired up Mike as he demanded to know why the hell that required him to be out of the group heading to the frontlines alongside his girlfriend. Before Hopper could even respond, Eddie was jumping into action along with Jonathan — coming to the retired cop’s defense. That only bewildered Mike more, which fueled Dustin’s confusion into high gear as he made arguments alongside Mike. Lucas had thrown his voice into the mix, but when Erica’s was louder — telling them all to listen, for the love of god listen, and Lucas stared at her in silent bemusement. Will was weakly pleading with them all to please calm down, along with Joyce, who shot Argyle (of all people) a desperate look, and he made his way over to sit down next to Will and tell him it was going to be alright.

“NOTHING ABOUT THIS IS ALRIGHT,” Mike cried, angry and sad and scared in the way a child made to grow up too soon has every right to be.

“Mike, please,” Nancy’s voice trembled, her blue eyes glassy.

“Nancy, this isn’t okay!!!” Mike wailed.

“M-Mike,” Nancy stammered, her own emotions giving her a shake she couldn’t stop. “Just l-listen to me…”

“No, you never listen to me!!!” Mike bawled. “Never!!!”

“Hey hey, Wheeler, hey.”

Steve finally found his voice as he reluctantly made his way to stand up away from you and approach his kid that was having an absolute breakdown. Mike was still wailing, but as Steve approached with an unwavering look in his eye — baby Wheeler allowed for the group's assigned babysitter to actually place his hands on his shoulders and try to level with him. Mike’s face crumbled, his words not making any sense the more he stumbled over them. All that could be made out was something he was trying to say towards El — something about why and how could you and tell them I’m coming — which made Steve get a firm grip on his shoulders as he told him not to blame her for this. After all, Steve had all the experience in the world as far as wrongfully placing blame on someone else was concerned…and it made your entire body ache as you watched him soothe Mike, who just bawled and mumbled nonsense in his hold.

El began to cry, too, leaning into Hopper — whose bottom lip trembled. He bit down on it hard and willed it to stop, his eyes overwhelmed with everything that was unraveling before his eyes.

Dustin was going back and forth with Erica, but he sounded so pitiful it made your uneven heart crack. He kept looking over at Steve, begging him to understand. Please Steve, please, let me go with you. Eddie moved to immediately hold him, crushing him in more of a death grip than a hug. The metalhead mumbled into his curly hair — not this time, kiddo, not this time. Robin had a hand clamped over her mouth, emotions taking over as she barely managed to bite them back.

You stood up instantly, moving to hold Buckley. She didn’t hesitate to make room for you on the seat, letting you take her in your arms as she shook like a leaf. You gently swayed her side to side with you, murmuring quiet little words that were meant to be comforting — knowing they weren’t, but offering them anyway.

Your eyes met Jonathan’s across the room as he swayed with Will as well. His pupils were blown, consumed with dread and drowning in pure misery, and you knew that yours weren’t much different.

Mike had buried his face into Steve’s chest at this point, and it made Nancy cry into her own palms as she curled in on herself.

“I can’t do this,” she whispered, voice cracking at the end. She looked at Hopper and your uncle, eyes guilty and full of shame. “I - I’m sorry.”

Before you could even process what just happened, Nancy was barreling up the stairs. Jonathan watched her go, panicking. He looked at Will, then at you — eyes pleading. You didn’t even let a second pass before you’d squeezed Robin to signal her, standing up to bring her over to where Will was seated. You took Jonathan’s place as he went after Nancy, holding him tight as Robin leaned against you on your opposite side. Argyle kept a kind hand on Will’s shoulder, still sitting to the other of him.

“Steve, please, you die I die, remember?”

Dustin’s whimpered words had to have been the saddest plea you’d ever heard in your life. Steve almost broke but before he could he flung an arm to sweep Dustin into his hold, as baby Wheeler kept bawling into his chest. He held them both steady, letting them fall apart in his protective arms and doing everything in his power not to break down with them. He couldn’t. If he did, he’d failed them. But to Steve’s dismay…he did anyway. He ducked his head down, shaking against the two of his kids, letting himself silently weep with them. For them.

Lucas looked utterly heartbroken, which Erica noticed. The youngest Sinclair cast aside all her pride, looking at her older brother with the most sympathy and love she could have towards anyone in this world, and she threw her arms around him. He only let it shock him for a second before he held her back, a grateful silence falling over them both.

You felt tears of your own begin to brim your eyes, but before letting them fall you looked up towards the adults…seeing your uncle first. Murray looked back at you with every ounce of empathy and solace that could be found inside his dark soul.

You gave him a soft nod, silently communicating with him. I understand. I’m sorry you had to deliver this news, but I’m here and I understand.

And he returned the soft nod, lips pressed into a thin line but communicating back through eye contact and body language. I love you and I hate this. But I’ve got you.

Dimitri stood next to him, eyes somber and downcast. He was new to the picture, but having seen the other side of things and just how bad a toll this has clearly taken on you all — he mourned for everyone’s pain.

Dr. Owens had to sit down, unable to speak and wringing his hands.

Hopper and Joyce held each other, along with El. They looked at each other, devastated but steadfast.

This plan was not open for discussion.

This plan was not open for debate.

This plan was final.

And so you let the tears crawl over the edges of your eyes, feeling them skate down your cheeks as you clung to Will and Robin and felt the world sit on top of your shoulders.

***

-- so as you can see, shit's getting intense. the gut-wrenching angst approaching has me overwhelmed but I'm so sickeningly happy about it. suffice it to say, Steve & Bauman are my Roman Empire and they are endgame. so if that gives you any sort of hope, given the inevitable doom that is in store for them and everyone else involved...then yay.

<3 this story forever lives on. forever and ever amen. - misha

TAGLIST (ILYSM) If I forgot you or you wanna be added, lmk :)

@aloneinthehellfire @xprloki @erastourvip @get0ut0fmyr00m @Eddiemuns0nl0ver @marrowfrog00 @poppet05 @wiltedflowersundertowers Originalthingparadise Pleuviors pumpkinonice Ihaveproblemsihaveproblems Brinleighsstuff Definitelynotherr sucker-4-angst bookkeeperlove notlilyyyy @goosy-goose nevillescomslut

#steve harrington #steve harrington x reader #steve harrington angst #mishas masterlists #steve harrington imagine #steve harrington x you #steve harrington fanfic #steve harrington stranger things #steve harrington smut #joe keery #oh so we do love steve #steve and bauman #murray bauman #jopper #jim hopper #jonathan byers #stancy #sorry stancy

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ask-the-pioneer · 1 month ago

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Hello and welcome to @ask-the-pioneer! This is a scripted ask blog dedicated to a slugcat OC of mine called Marbles (she/her), titled the Pioneer. She is a re-interpretation of Artificer’s blue slugpup, set in a AU where the pup survives, grows up, and receives a name. The main story begins some short time after the end of Artificer’s campaign. At that point in time Marbles is already a young adult (early 20s in human years). She parts ways with Hunter - her mentor - and ventures out to seek the knowledge contained within the pearls that she was always captivated by.

This blog is run by @kalivasquez (@kalivasquezart). Keep in mind I’m not a native English speaker. There may be spelling errors or weirdly constructed sentences at times. This is my first ask-blog ever so idk what I’m doing but I’m trying my best 👍

CONTENT WARNING: This blog has content rating of +18 due to potential sensitive themes: mental trauma, depictions of violence, suicidal ideation, blood and gore, or other graphic imagery that may be uncomfortable, scarring or otherwise triggering to witness. Viewer discretion is advised. Posts containing mild themes will be tagged appropriately, while posts showing heavy themes will have "mature" filter applied to them. Please be aware that all the content shared on this blog is intended for an adult audience!

More info below the cut!

Blog Rules 📜

Last update: 10th of October, 2024

By default you address the main character - Marbles, aka the Pioneer - in your asks. If you wish to inquire me directly (as an author of this blog), please include “[OOC]” at the beginning, or otherwise indicate that the message is directed at me and not the character.

Asks are answered in-character. Sometimes the character may react to your ask in a seemingly negative way. Please keep in mind that it is done from their point of view, and it does not imply that I (the author) personally reacted badly to your message.

I appreciate all the asks that I receive. However, I reserve the right to not answer some of them, at my discretion. It is not guaranteed that you receive a response. Still, I’ll try my best to answer as many messages as I can.

Be aware that some asks I receive may be skipped over, especially ones that are short and vague, in favour of more complex asks that help me push the plot of this AU forward. This is also relevant for asks that refer to the same subject (duplicates).

Please be tactful! Asks that are inappropriate or confusing in their intent (like spam, baits, asks containing slurs) will be deleted. Sorry!

Do not send me asks via direct messages (DMs)! I keep my DMs open in case someone needs to contact me for other reasons, like incorrect tagging or important offsite matters. If you send me a DM meant to be answered like an ask, your message will be ignored and deleted.

More rules may be added later. Please check this section again periodically.

General Character Info ℹ️

As of now, this ask-blog has only one acting character - Marbles the slugcat, aka the Pioneer.

Name (given): Mirmyntasseth, Eight Marbles Cast in Stone

Title (given): the Pioneer

Nickname: Blue (for family), Marbles (for friends, after being named by an iterator)

Pronouns: she/her

Age: young adult (very early 20’s in human years)

Personality: energetic, curious, savvy, humorous, short-tempered, resilient, drive, a little naive and too trusting, exhibits mild case of abandoned child syndrome

Specific traits:

good at finding pearls (she loves them, goes about as crazy for them as scavs) and other trinkets,

knows martial arts, can incapacitate enemies by hitting their pressure points,

can craft explosive spears and grenades - they do less damage, but stun for longer; crafted explosives have deep orange color,

already has a mark of communication, granted by NSH,

Tools:

Marbles is often seen wearing a light colored “sling bag” on her back, where she keeps her pearls and other items,

at a muuuuuuch later point in time, she receives a gift from a kind interator - her very own citizen ID drone; the drone can read from pearls and translate slugcat speech into other languages.

Current reference sheet:

For more in-dept info and drawings/references of the character, please visit Marbles' ToyHouse page.

AU Timeline ⏱️

the story of Pioneer takes place some years after the end of Artificer's campaign, and begins at the same time as Hunter's campaign in-game

this AU assumes the following timeline for slugcat campaigns: Spearmaster -> Artificer -> Hunter -> Gourmand -> Survivor -> Monk -> Rivulet -> Saint,

Artificer/Hunter/Gourmand campaigns happen close together, with Hunter/Gourmand overlapping slightly; all three scugs are roughly the same age, with Arti being the oldest (early 40s), and Hunter the youngest (39),

Saint and Monk are still slugpups by the time the story of Pioneer beings,

Spearmaster is unlikely to be present in this AU as it is assumed that over 432 cycles have passed, meaning they are no longer alive,

Rivulet is unlikely to be present in this AU as here their campaign is assumed to have taken place *much *later in the future,

Saint is thought to be stuck in a time loop, and *may *appear in this AU.

AU Setting 📝

Pioneer’s Backstory (before the events described in this ask blog):

Marbles/Blue (the Pioneer) was born in the Garbage Wastes area, raised by a single mother (Artificer); the other parent remains unknown,

she had a sibling (who was also the runt of the litter) - a brother named Bryn, the green slugpup; the two were fraternal twins,

she got separated from the rest of her family in a scav toll incident,

was not killed, but abducted instead by the scavenger toll tribe, brought into their local shelter just before the rain started,

initially assumed to have been taken in as a fodder in case of predator attack,

in the end she has earned her keep when she learned how to make grenades and explosive spears, turning herself into a valuable asset for the tribe,

was treated fairly well, but never truly incorporated into the local scavenger community,

had stayed with the tribe for many cycles, learning how to fight and survive, but also how to look for valuables (mainly pearls) and haggle with other tribes,

could probably have run away, but she held on to hope that mom would come back for her,

whenever she got “lost”, the tribe would look for her to bring her back,

after one of her short solo expeditions, she came back to the camp only to find out the entire scav tribe has been wiped out,

ran away and been wandering aimlessly for a while, eventualy stumbling upon Hunter who adopted her, took back to NSH's superstructure, and underwent training alongside him (under NSH’s supervision),

promised to accompany Hunter during his important mission, but had to suddenly part ways due to unfortunate circumstances (just before the beginning of Hunter’s campaign).

Post Tagging 🏷️

I use the following tags:

#rain world, #rain world oc, #rain world au - default tags added to all answered asks (unless OOC),

#rain world spoilers - is included in posts that may spoil RW lore, for example: when answers hint to the conclusion of Artificer’s campaign,

#rw - rain world-specific characters that are present in a post, such as: “#rw hunter” or “rw five pebbles”; i will try to use the full name(s) intead of abbreviations,

#au lore - posts that contain important worldbuilding information for my AU,

#ooc- out of character posts, or anything else that doesn’t fall under “rain world” umbrella,

(more tags will be added to this section once I actually start posting stuff)

I also tag sensitive content with appropriate tags like #tw [trigger], if shown.

Text Key 💬

Most dialogue takes form of narrated drawings, where Marbles speaks in her own voice. The speeches are a part of the drawings themselves.

However, if a post contains additional text, the following key is used:

[Narration]

[The road was long and arduous, and she was glad to have finally found a shelter]

(Thoughts)

(This place is full of scavengers, I should be able to trade those pearls for some food)

“Speaking”

“How come you have not seen a vulture before? Climb up to Sky Islands, they are everywhere!”

//OOC

// more art coming soon woohoo!

Credits 📑

image in the blog's header belongs to Pawel Czerwinski on Unsplash

Yoŋasabi script (slugcat language, original conlang) in the top banner by @opashoo

all the other drawings posted on this blog were made by me, unless stated otherwise

#rain world #no one actually reads the “About” page so i've decided to turn it into a pinned post #can you believe i still haven't come up with the name for this AU lol #pinned

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kbwritesstuff · 9 months ago

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Writeblr Intro

Hello! My name is Kit. I am new to writeblr, but very old to tumblr. I live in the US, I'm 26 and use she/they pronouns.

I've been creeping on the tags for a while, but I finally made a blog just for writing. I'd love to share updates on what I'm writing, excerpts and talk about writing with other writers.

I'm currently writing my first novel, it's young adult high fantasy. I've written about 40,000 words in the universe, but I've recently finished a more detailed outline. So, I'm starting the real rough draft now that I know more of what I want to say.

A lot of my characters are queer and disabled, like me. I want to write books that are magical and that a lot of different people can see themselves in. I think fantasy serves as a cool conduit for imagining what the world could look like beyond a lot of the power structures we take for granted.

I'd love to follow other authors, particularly ones that are also working on longer term projects. I think it'd be cool to get feedback from people, or find other people who have been doing this longer and talk more about their thought processes. I'm open to following writers of all genres since I read them all and think there's so many cool things to learn from different styles!

Any advice on how to get started is appreciated, will be following anyone that interacts with this post.

I look forward to getting more involved in this community!

#writeblr #write #queer writers #women writers #writers and poets #writers on tumblr #writeblr intro #intro post #introductory post #writerscommunity #fantasy writing #fantasy wip #writing #creative writing #author #writer

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pruneunfair · 4 months ago

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why does this relationship feel so groomer-like and no one's talking about it?

Am I the only one who notices how predatory Sovieshus relationship with Rashta feels, she's not a good person but fanatics are acting like Rashta really knows what she's doing (to some extent she does but keep in mind, this is a recently freed slave girl around the age of 18 with the mental age of 8 and an emperor who is at least 8 years her senior)

the novel even goes out of its way to describe Rashta as a gleeful child in terms of behavior and speaking in 3rd person so that's a big yikes

he's out here petting her like a dog and the expression she makes below is disturbingly like a 10 year old at the oldest

Off topic but is she necessarily wrong here? Granted there is a chance Rashta is only stating this to make herself look like the better option, but she's still not wrong, Navier always gets her way in the end and everyone loves her, the narrative is trying to say Rashta is a conniving bitch for saying this but my girls just stating facts.

This is how Sovieshu here responds to that, I do not know how else a predatory relationship could be more on the nose than calling her prey.

And this clearly isn't a one time thing since Rashta confirms he's always calling her that.

I wouldn't exactly say Sovieshu is a straight up pedo but there is clearly a major power imbalance that he is enjoying here. Rashta doesn't argue with him, she treats him like her savior, he likes that because unlike Navier, Rashta would always throw herself to him to be her knight in shining armor.

I'm pretty sure Sovieshu was initially against giving her an education too because she would lose her childlike innocence and what do you know? The moment Rashta becomes empress and stops acting all childlike and revealing her desperate paranoia he treats her like an annoying girl that was thrusted upon him.

Rashta is a terrible person no questions there but I'm not gonna sit here and pretend she wasn't being taken advantage of.

EDIT: I poorly phrased it last time but I want to make it clear I do NOT think Sovieshu likes them younger, he's a lot of things but he's not a pedo. The relationship they have feels more like a student-teacher relationship in a college setting. The student is an adult and while the professors age gap isn't too large, it's still a large power imbalance since the professor has so much power and authority over the student.

#the remarried empress critical #the remarried empress #webtoon #rashta #sovieshu

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coraniaid · 1 month ago

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I think there's a problem with my Buffy DVDs. Is anyone else having this issue?

Whenever I go back to watch episodes from the high school seasons I keep seeing these really jarring scenes where a character played by Kristine Sutherland tells a character played by Sarah Michelle Gellar how much she loves her and where she keeps trying to reconnect with her and to find common interests and to understand what she's going through (even though ultimately she can't because other adults in the SMG character's life have sworn her to secrecy and the SMG character's problems are not something anybody could possibly reasonably guess). And in some episodes there are these weird moments where we cut to shots of the Kristine Sutherland character and the SMG character spending time together alone and smiling and hugging, almost as if they enjoy each other's company. Sometimes the Kristine Sutherland character will interact with the SMG character's friends, and they'll all make a point of saying how much they like her and how they wish their own parents were more like she is. And sometimes the Kristine Sutherland character will risk her life to protect the SMG character, or stand up for her against authority figures like her high school principal or the police, or tell her how proud of her she is, or try to comfort her when she's sick or unhappy, or surprise her with presents, or encourage her to imagine a positive future, or offer to fill in for her absentee father when he lets her down [you know, in exactly the way Giles doesn't] all while reassuring her that her parents' divorce wasn't her fault.

It's very confusing. It almost gives me the impression that Kristine Sutherland might deliberately and knowingly be playing Joyce Summers as some sort of complicated, fully rounded character who can't simply be reduced to the role of "good parent" or "bad parent", and that -- like many other supporting characters on the show -- the exact way she behaves varies significantly from episode to episode and from writer to writer. It's almost as if one of the few throughlines throughout the show's run is that, no matter what, Joyce's complicated and imperfect and changing relationship with Buffy is somehow a significant element that should inform the audience's understanding of who Buffy Summers is as a person.

In fact -- and please bear with me, because I know this sounds utterly absurd -- it's almost as if there might be as many as one adult woman on the show who deserves to be granted some of the nuance and sympathy we'd ordinarily only reserve for the sort of people who really deserve it. The Watcher who drugged his Slayer and gaslit her about it even when she came to him in tears (but he was only following orders, so that's okay!), for example, or the unrepentant mass murderers and demons and attempted rapists and all of Buffy's various terrible boyfriends. (Real people, in other words. People with inner lives and agency. You know: men.)

It's almost as if the show expects us to care about Joyce Summers as a person, even though she's committed the unpardonable sin of being a woman over the age of thirty.

But I know this can't be true -- I know these confusing scenes can't be part of the show I'm trying to watch -- because the experts on Tumblr.com have assured me that Joyce is simply a Bad Mother. That she means about as little to Buffy as her deadbeat dad Hank Summers [a character who only appears as himself twice across the whole show and who Buffy never actually says nice things about]. That Joyce is someone who Buffy only ever deludes herself into thinking that she misses after she's dead because she's in some sort of shock and unable to be properly "objective". So I know these characters on my screen can't be Joyce and Buffy -- Buffy can't be telling her mother she loves her as early as the third episode of the show; she's not even close to dead yet! -- they have to be from some other TV series that somehow got mixed up with my copy of Buffy when the DVDs were being produced.

Hence my dilemma. Does anybody know if there's a way I can get the defective discs replaced? My Buffy DVD collection is getting pretty old; is it too late to write in to the manufacturers and ask for a refund? Is this a region-specific problem, and is it likely to happen again if I buy a replacement set? Or should I just give up at this point and settle for the HD remaster?

I'd really love to be able to watch the version of the show where Joyce is simply a Bad Mother [because sometimes she treats Buffy poorly] and Giles is an uncomplicated Good Dad [because sometimes he treats Buffy with kindness] that you're all always talking about, it sounds really ...

... oh, no, sorry, I can't keep up the bit. That version of the show sounds like utter dogshit. Thank fuck it isn't real.

#btvs #the rest of you might want to look into finding a version of the show that has the full episodes in though #instead of the boring misogynistic double standard specials you've apparently been watching for years

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dropletpetals · 2 years ago

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Sagau folks really collectively decided that they would give Jewelry to their closest acolytes.

So perhaps it becomes a slight thing of pride? Like a vision saying you've been acknowledged by the gods

Jewels of Favor

(feat. SAGAU characters)

❥⁠Synopsis: Once, the highest honor in Teyvat was to be given a Vision. Now, it is to be granted a jewelry as a show of favor by the Creator.

❥⁠Content Warnings: SAGAU, religious themes, yandere behavior

❥⁠Author's Notes: Everyone agreed that we would absolutely spoil our favorites with jewelry and I think that's awesome

Visions.

To be granted one was to be acknowledged by the gods. That is what the people of Teyvat believed. Being granted a Vision was the highest honor as it was seen as the Archons, Celestia and You acknowledging the person.

But that had changed when You descended.

It started with one. One who was undoubtedly Your favorite, as they were the ones often used by You before You had descended.

They were wearing a beautiful jewelry that was not in their usual attire so people around them were curious.

"Where did you get this?" People had asked, pointing at their new accessory.

And with a proud look and adoring smile, they had said, "Your Grace gave it to me."

Jealousy was a common emotion among the people when it comes to You. Your show of favor wasn't a suprise, but the way You had shown it caused envy to Your alocytes.

Once, Visions were the highest honor given to the people of Teyvat by the Archons, by Celestia, by You.

Now it was a beautiful jewelry that was selected by You that suited it's bearer.

But then, more of Your alocytes were given jewelry of their own, like the three other people that You had used so often.

The more You give Your favor, the more that the alocytes who weren't granted became more and more envious.

Fights with those who were granted were a common thing. Of course they wouldn't dare do it in Your presence. And not all of them seek out to fight.

The children were left alone and was separated from the fight, even if they had Your favor.

No. It is the adults who were doing the fighting. Archons, adeptis, humans—they fight just for a sliver of Your favor.

Because to be acknowledged by their Creator, the highest God of Teyvat was something all had only ever dreamed of. Once it was just a fleeting dream, but now it is very much real.

They craved Your attention, crave the validation that You want them, that You love them, that You care for them.

They would prostate themselves to You, worship at Your feet, humiliate themselves just so they could be granted Your favor.

Because not being acknowledged by You was greatest torture one could ever experience.

❥⁠Q: What jewelry/accessory do you prefer? I like rings best.

#sagau #sagau cult au #genshin impact sagau #genshin sagau #sagau x reader #ash.♥

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pearbunny · 1 year ago

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the bucket list ✘ [one]

series masterlist | prev | next [ ❀ spotify playlist ]

summary: Fly to Korea. Check. Buy a bouquet of flowers for a stranger. Check. Have said stranger come along with you to accomplish your bucket list? Well that wasn’t on the list, but falling in love was.

pairing: han jisung x afab!reader

genre: 18+ [MDNI] strangers to lovers, non idol au, crack, mostly fluff, later chapters to include: angst, comfort, smut.

general warnings: tourist!mc, adult themes including but not limited to: suggestive content, nudity, cursing, alcohol consumption, mentions of death in later chapters, overarching theme of mental health, eventual smut.

word count: ~3.6k

chapter content: mentions of food, excessive lip biting as a nervous habit, cafe employee!seungmin, stranger danger tbh don’t be like o/c, Lee Know mentioned, but not present.

author’s note: I've never written for stray kids and most of what i write is typically on the sadder side so fluff isn't my strongest point but i've had this in my head for awhile. feedback, reblogs, likes, v much appreciated. :) updates will be sporadic, but i'm aiming for once every two weeks.

You shield your eyes from the beating sun above, pupils unadjusted from being on a plane for the past 12 plus hours with the window shut. You let go of the suitcase you had been dragging along behind you to fish your phone out of your back pocket. Humming to yourself, you check the map, trying to find your way to Seoul. “Ah!” You say into the air, which grants you a couple of curious and annoyed stares. You duck your head in an attempt to be unseen, embarrassed by the attention. You make your way to the train station and purchase a ticket. It doesn’t take long for the train to arrive, and soon you’re sitting with your backpack in your lap and your suitcase between your legs.

According to the tourist guide you had pulled up on your phone, the train ride would take around 40 minutes. In the meantime, you rummage through your backpack to look for an old loosely bound book. You find it after digging past your makeup bag and some snacks you had saved from the flight. With a hum, you search through the pages, and after some flipping, you land on the correct one. Your index finger traces down a list, and randomly you stop it. “Buy a bouquet for a stranger.”

You chew on your lip, a habit you picked up whenever you found yourself feeling uneasy. You may not bethe most outgoing person, but you aren't completely against socializing.

It’s just … going up to a stranger in a town– let alone country– you’ve never been in was 1000% terrifying.

Before you know it, the intercom announces your stop and you're scrambling to gather your belongings. You make your way out of the station and suddenly, you hold your breath in awe at the scene in front of you. There were so many people, walking in every direction. You hear little tidbits of their conversations: where they were planning to go for lunch, the new restaurant that opened up in Itaewon, what someone’s boyfriend had given them for their 100 days. The sounds of a city fill your ears.

If you're being honest, it was a little overwhelming. For a moment, you have doubts of why you had gotten on that plane. You shut your eyes and count down from 7. There, your breathing is even, your head’s a little clearer, and you realize that you had a goal to accomplish. You couldn't back out now, you refuse to be stuck in your old ways.

‘Flowers first,’ you think to yourself.

After a couple of blocks of lugging your suitcase behind you, you find a quaint little flower stand. A young woman and what seem to be her grandfather were the owners of the stall. You stand there, staring at all the options. The young woman approaches you, her hands placed inside the pockets of her green apron, “Hi, do you need help picking something out?”

“Hi, yes!” you quickly blurt out. “I just wanted a bouquet that would make someone’s day.” You give the woman a meek smile. You recognize the characters on her apron to read Minji.

“Is this for anyone special? Your mom, maybe?” She starts to pull at a couple of arrangements, one bouquet made of mostly carnations.

You shake your head, “No…” You hesitate as you wondered to yourself, ‘Do I tell her it’s for someone I don’t even know?’ You chuckle at the thought absentmindedly.

Minji takes that to mean something else, “A boy perhaps then?” There's something a little suggestive in her tone, complemented by the raise of her brow in your direction.

“Oh, no no!” You shake your head for emphasis, furiously denying it. “Absolutely nothing like that.” You find yourself laughing at the predicament. “I’m actually going to give the flowers to a stranger.”

“Oh–” Minji looks pleasantly surprised, “That’s very kind of you. I have just the thing then.”

You stay in place while Minji goes to the other side of the flower stall to wrap up the bouquet she hand picked. Soon, she comes back and you make an expression of gratitude. “Minji, you really didn’t have to do that! I could have just gotten one of the premade ones.” You pout, looking through the flowers as you take the bouquet from her. It was very simple, three medium sunflowers, some Queen Anne’s lace, and a few branches of baby blue eucalyptus.

“No, don’t worry about it. What was your name again?”

“Y/N”, You give her the appropriate amount of money.

“Well, Y/N, I hope you brighten someone’s day!” Minji smiles at you and bids you farewell as you turn and leave.

“Now who do I give this to?” You hold the bouquet in one hand while you pull your luggage, the sound of its wheels on the concrete trailing behind you.

You stop at an intersection, scanning the crowd for someone that seems approachable. Will it be the middle aged woman holding the hand of a small boy while they cross the street? Maybe it would be the man in a suit that was on the phone, oh he was looking in your direction. He glared at you.

Okay, so not that guy.

You were about to give up until you spot a young man, about your age give or take a few, walking in your direction. He was still crossing the street, but he had a certain pep to his step, like he was listening to a really good song in his headphones– which given the fact that he did have headphones on, he probably was. He seems approachable, even down to his outfit: white tee loosely tucked into black jeans a black belt to match his shoes, and gold metal thinly rimmed glasses.

“Um, excuse me!” You step towards him, holding the bouquet of flowers to your chest at first.

“Yes?” The man stops in front of you and stretches one side of his headphones away from his ear to hear you better.

“These are for you.” You extend the sunflowers towards him.

He looks around, a bit confused, then takes his headphones off fully, letting them hang around his neck. He takes a step towards the side, which you follow, so you’re out of the way of the traffic of people. “F-For me?!” He seems surprised. You can't blame him, you’re a total stranger. He gestures to himself, placing his palm on his chest. “I think you have the wrong guy!”

You shake your head, the corners of your lips turn up in a slight smile, mostly out of embarrassment. “No, definitely for you”.

The stranger takes the bouquet in his hand, examining it. “Who put you up to this? Was it Lee Know Hyung?” He looked back at you, raising a brow.

“I don’t even know who that is, I promise they’re for you!”

You notice his shoulders relaxing and he pinches at one of the blue eucalyptus leaves, feeling its texture. “But… why?”

You also relax and release the breath inside your lungs you didn’t know you were holding. He seems to at least be open to accepting the gift now. “It’s just something I wanted to cross off my bucket list: give a bouquet of flowers to a stranger.” You smile up at him and you hope that the man in front of you can sense how sincere you are and didn’t think you were an absolute lunatic.

“Well, thanks.” He slowly starts to smile and suddenly his eyes notice your bag and your suitcase. “Oh, are you visiting?”

You nod your head yes, “I am! I’m actually here because visiting Korea is also on my bucket list!”

His eyes grow wide, surprised by your seemingly adventurous personality. “You must have come a long way then, your accent is definitely not from around here.” He motions over to a bench a short walk away and the both of you make your way there.

“I will take that as a compliment.” Momentarily, you check your phone for the time. He must have noticed you doing so, because he motions to get up.

“Oh no, did I keep you?”

“Not at all, I’m just realizing what time it is back home.”

“Oh, you must be jet lagged, do you need help getting to your hotel?”

“I don’t have to check in until later,” you lie. You don't even have a hotel yet.

Oops.

"Well, in that case...." He seems nervous as he stands up, very subtly back and forth on the tips of his toes to the back of his heels. If that isn't enough, he rubs the back of his neck before he clears his throat and looks down at your sitting form. You look up at him as if you hadn’t been watching him the entire time. “Is grabbing coffee with a stranger on your bucket list too, then?”

You can't help but smile, a smile that pulled at your lips wide enough that it made the corner of your eyes crinkle. “It’s not, but I’m sure I could add it in.”

“Great, then I’ll make sure it’s an extra good café with instagrammable latte art!” He extends out his hand to help you up.

Once you stand up, you reach for your suitcase, but he beats you to it. Instead, he places the bouquet of flowers into your hands. “You carry that, and I’ll take these.” He slings your backpack over his shoulder.

“No, please let me. It’s really no problem for me!” You hold the bouquet of flowers to him, as if it's a trade off.

“It might be no problem for you, but what about me? You’re gonna slow us down carrying these things and the café spot gets busy in the afternoon!” He starts to walk away, looking back at you with a smirk after a couple of large strides.

Well, at least the stranger you picked had a sense of humor and wasn’t some asshole who would have rejected the flowers. Snapping out of your thoughts, you realize he really isn't going to wait for you and hurry after him.

The stranger— you still don't know his name, by the way; you've had no opportunity to ask—wasn’t kidding when he said that the café got busy. You were both lucky to grab a table on the outside of the establishment all thanks to your hovering and his remarkably subtle ability to place your suitcase in the way of other hopeful individuals looking for a seat.

Your eyes wander around the place, looking for a waiter or waitress to come and take your order. You desperately don't want to be the one to start conversation. You feel a little awkward sitting down with a guy you just met.

“I’m Han Jisung, by the way.” His voice cuts through the clinking of mugs, the soft hum of the people waiting for a table, and the occasional sound of the cars driving past.

You bring your eyes back to him, a little caught off guard. He smiles in a way that shows the gums and it's kind of cute, while his eyes crinkle into half crescents. You can't help but smile right back at him. “I’m Y/N.”

Jisung leans forward, into the table with his arms crossed. “So, what brings you to Korea, Y/N?”

You reach for the old beaten notebook in your bag and place it on the table. “I have this bucket list,” you open the pages and start flipping through it. There were a bunch of pages with cursive scrawls in paragraphs, some doodles, and eventually you stop on the page with the bucket list on it. “Just a bunch of things I wanna do before I die…” You give him a lopsided smile.

Jisung’s eyes look through the list, then he point at one half way down the page. “Well, you can now cross going to Korea off. “ His index finger drags across the page at another item, “And the bouquet one.”

“You’re right, thanks.” You take a pen from the front pouch of your backpack and cross those off.

“How long is your visit?”

You peer up at him, chewing on your bottom lip. He has an innocently curious expression on his face and you can't help but thank whoever's in charge of fate. Jisung is nice and welcoming, which is just what you need in a country you had never been to before. “About two weeks.”

“Do you plan on doing more of those here?”

You nod with a smile. “I do! As many as I can anyway.” Talking to him isn't as awkward as you think it would be. He's definitely to thank for carrying the conversation so naturally.

“Hi can I take yo—“ a young man, probably around Jisung’s age comes to your table with a small notepad in hand. He has medium brown hair pushed back, a wide smile, and kind eyes. He's wearing a pair of khaki slacks and a nicely pressed dress shirt underneath his navy blue apron. “Oh, Hannie! Hey!”

Jisung stands and pulls the newcomer into a short hug. “Seungmin!” Jisung motions to you at the table. “This is Y/N. A new friend of mine.”

You smile at Seungmin and stand, bowing your head slightly. “Hi, nice to meet you.”

Seungmin motions for you both to sit back down after introductions. “Ah, order whatever you guys want, it’s on the house! I hope you guys didn’t wait too long for a table.”

Jisung shook his head, sitting back down only after you did. “It didn’t take too long, but this place is crowded! You guys must be doing really well lately.”

Seungmin nodded with a sort of crooked grin, “Yeah, well ever since those KPOP idols were seen here, this place has been swamped.” He raised his brows up and down mischievously, looking at the both of you together. “We’re looking for help!”

Jisung scoffed and playfully rolled his eyes. “No thanks. Y/N is just visiting.” He leaned closer to you, as if the next part was only meant to be heard by you, though he was definitely talking loud enough for Seungmin to hear. “Besides, the last time I helped out he yelled at me for eating a pastry.”

Seungmin playfully hit Jisung’s arm with his notepad. “It wasn’t a pastry, it was your seventh one of the day.” He cleared his throat. “Anyway, what will you be ordering?”

You looked around, unsure of what was good there. You wanted to get an idea from what others had ordered around you. Everyone seemed to have an iced drink… and they were all really dark coffees “A vanilla iced latte?” Your sweet tooth would never let you have coffee without some kind of creamer in it.

Seungmin nodded and scribbled it down. Then, without looking at Jisung, he said, “Americano, iced. And a slice of cheesecake.”

Jisung feigned a look of offense. “Am I that predictable?”

Seungmin laughed. “Honestly, no. But your orders are.” Seungmin placed his notepad in his apron pocket and went back into the cafe to fetch your orders.

“Ah, that was Seungmin. He and I go way back. Now he helps run this place!”

“That must be difficult, but this place looks great.”

“Yea, he’s always been a caffeine addict. One day, he decided that if he was going to be making coffee everyday, he might as well make money off of it.” Jisung chuckled to himself, then glanced your way from across the table. “Are you staying close by? I could walk you to your hotel after If you’d like”

You laughed nervously, avoiding eye contact, “Well.. actually…” your voice trailed off, catching a glimpse at his expression before spitting it out, “I don’t have one… yet.”

“You don’t have one?!” He had raised his voice slightly, startling a couple of people at nearby tables.

“Yet! I said yet!” You nervously played with the pen in your hands.

“You came to Korea without a place to stay!?”

“I literally bought my tickets two hours before the flight took off!”

Seungmin came back with your orders, just in time to catch the last bit of your conversation. His eyes widened in shock.

“TWO HOURS?” Both Jisung and Seungmin echoed you simultaneously.

You grabbed your iced vanilla latte and started chewing on the straw. “I mean… it probably sounds a lot worse than it is...”

Seungmin bent down at his knees to rest his arms on the table, head tilted. In that position, he really reminded you of a puppy. “Are you rich?”

“Umm, definitely not." You placed your free drink on the table and chuckled at the thought.

Jisung raised a brow in your direction, “So you’re broke.”

You grabbed your phone and checked your bank app. There was a silence that passed, the boys watching you carefully. You exhaled slowly and put your phone on the table, screen down. “Not like broke broke.”

Seungmin stood back up and forcefully put his hands on Jisung’s shoulders from behind him, giving them a squeeze for emphasis, “Well it’s a good thing that Hannie has a spare room, yea?”

The two of you exchanged looks until he finally said something, “I mean… Yeah… I guess I do.”

Jisung shot Seungmin a glare as he went back into the cafe then looked back you. You were still staring at him blankly, not saying a word. You were going through the logistics of it all in your head. It would be a free place to stay, but he was a complete stranger. This whole thing was a spontaneous trip, it was supposed to be a way for to come out of your comfortable way of living. You had been complacent, and quite honestly, staying in one place wasn’t going to help your mental health. But neither was staying with a stranger.

“It’s not like I’m an ax murderer or anything.”

Your silence was met with Jisung shrugging and grabbing his pastry off the plate in front of him. He broke it up into smaller pieces before stuffing it into his cheeks. He looked a little silly, reminding you of a squirrel with puffed up cheeks. “Or you can find a hotel room with all the money you still have saved up.”

You were quickly reminded of the lack of money in your bank account. “Okay yea,” you mumbled under your breath, “lead the way.”

Jisung gave you a short tour of his place. It was on the seventh floor, two bedrooms, one bathroom. A small kitchen with an equally as small island, enough for two people to eat at. He had a black couch facing a TV that was hooked up to a play station, probably the newest one.

You came out of the bathroom after showering in an over sized gray shirt and navy blue shorts underneath. You were towel drying your hair when you noticed he was at the sink. You sat at the island, his back to you. “Thanks for letting me stay with you.”

He seemed busy with something, but he looked over his shoulder at you. “Yea, no problem. Don’t worry about it.”

Seeing as he was a bit busy, you went into the spare room you were staying in and grabbed your notebook. You decided to bring it back to the island; if you were going to stay with Jisung for at least a couple of days, you were going to get to know him. He definitely seemed and had proven himself nice enough.

“Is that the list again?” Jisung asked you when you sat back down, still focused on whatever it was he was doing.

“Yeah, it is.”

“Cool!” He threw something away in the trash under the sink. Whatever it was he was working on, he placed it in the counter next to the sink.

“What kind of stuff do you think you could cross off?” He turned around and leaned on the island across from you. His head tilted, curious as he looked at you with warm round brown eyes.

You couldn’t stop yourself from smiling. “Let’s see.” You opened up to the page, looking over the list and reading off a few at random.

“Paint a portrait. Sing at a karaoke bar. Fall asleep under the stars. Watch the sun rise—“

“Those are easy! You traveled all the way to korea for that? Where are the fun spontaneous ones?”

You sighed and ran your hands down your face. “I have those too, but they’re embarrassing!”

“Try me.”

You held your head in your hands, looking down at the book to avoid looking at him. “Crash a wedding.”

“Ooo that sounds fun. What else you got?”

“I booked a flight to Korea in two hours isn't that spontaneous enough?!”

He shook his head, still smiling.

You looked back down. “Goskinnydipping...” You mumbled very quietly and quickly, then cleared your throat trying to glaze over that bit, hoping he didn’t hear. When he didn't react, you continued. “Get a tattoo.” Slowly, you looked at him through your damp hair that fell over your eyes.

“Okay. Let’s do it.” He smiled at you, mischievous one.

“Get a tattoo?” You panicked and you could feel the heat rushing to your cheeks. Had he heard you?

“Let’s accomplish as many things on your list as we can while you’re here.”

You looked at him with a brow raised. You didn’t even know what to say. “Like… together?”

Jisung nodded simply. “Yes. Together. Why not?”

“More like why? Why would you do that with someone you just met?”

He mimicked your raised brow, but the smirk remained. “You bought me flowers, remember? We’re basically dating now.”

Huh? He was joking, right?

“Just kidding. But come on, think about it! It’ll be fun! Plus… do you know how to get around Seoul?”

Again, he had a point.

You bit your lower lip and scanned the room trying to avoid eye contact. It was then you noticed that the thing he was working on was the bouquet of flowers that you bought, stems cut and placed in a tall glass.

You smiled and finally nodded, “Okay.”

“Okay?” He looked at you with wide eyes, smirk growing into a smile, excited that you had agreed.

“Yea. Let’s do this.”

author's notes: if for whatever you want to be added to a taglist, let me know :)

taglist

@burningchaosdeer

#han jisung x reader #skz x reader #han jisung fanfic #han jisung #stray kids x reader #jisung fic #jisung fluff #skz fanfic #jisung smut #han jisung smut #han jisung series #jisung series

240 notes · View notes

royculkins · 1 year ago

Text

the universal curse of sensitivity — igby slocumb (3)

part three: the warmth of swirling minds & fluttering hearts

PART ONE, PART TWO

Pairing: Igby Slocumb x reader

Warnings: Drug use, underage nicotine use, neglectful parents, explicit language, adults messing around with kids when they shouldn't, and anything else that can be found in the movie Igby Goes Down

Summary: Troublesome kids will always reach to find love and acceptance, even if it means making a mess where it's unintended. They’re just kids, but the older they get, the worse their inner conflicts haunt them. They want to please, but long to be pleased. They’re dramatic and self-sabotaging, they can’t help it⸺its the universal curse of their sensitivity.

Tag List: @gaysludge @wsrizz @confusedoatmeal

Author's Note: i know, i know! it’s been forever but here’s the third part!! i hope you like it! if you would like to be added/taken off the tag list, please lmk! 🫶🏼

5.9k Words

Rain in New York could be treacherous, especially during the season’s cold front.

Water would fall from the sky by millions, having no mercy for those who dared walk through it. The closer it got to those in the street, the more daring it would become. Sweeping sideways with the wind and sprinkling reminders of its presence on faces hidden under umbrellas. It would bounce off the pavement to soak through socks and ruin expensive shoes. Leaving its victims drenched and shaking from its chilling touch.

Igby hated this type of rain⸺the harshness and coldness of it feeling all too familiar as he splashed through puddles and received tiny wet slaps to the face.

Typically, he would never dare to trek through this type of downpour. For too long, he had been chasing the sun, trying to find affection in its sunkissed warmth and assurance. He had never been granted the peace of the sun's warming promise, for the chilling breath of his family curse was always present on the back of his neck. It would cascade down his back, leaving him with a constant spine-chilling need to search for anything to keep his dying fire ignited.

A part of him wondered if the icy past that followed him would catch up to him one day. Would it freeze him instantly and forever? Would it cause his burning desire for freedom to die? Would he become as cold as his family?

He didn’t want to stay in one place too long⸺fearing that if he did, his questions would be answered in the worst way possible.

For so long, he had felt the chill settle around him. Mocking him as he would add another layer of clothing to try and keep the cold from swallowing him whole. He wore his scarf so often for that very reason⸺for as long as he had it, he cursed the scarf draped around his neck for never doing its job, for never soothing him or comforting his shaking form.

That is until you.

You, who would take the fabric between your fingers to feel its used material. You, who reminded him of its presence above his shirt and below his jacket. You, who seemingly brought heat with just a touch⸺letting your warmth escape through your fingertips and travel into the stripped object, which would finally soothe the coolness on the back of his neck.

You with the warm enough touch to cause his family's icy persona to nearly disappear. Maybe that was why, even though it was pouring down raining, Igby made his way to your apartment.

Many of Russel's usual buyers had opted out of their deliveries on the storm-ridden day. Igby could still recall waking up on the sticky and crammed couch, a line of drool trickling out of his lips as Russel’s outdated phone jittered against its handle. A string of curse words stumbled out of the older man's mouth after each call, the weather washing away his usual profit. However, just as many began to cancel, others called for a supply to keep them busy during their time inside.

You had been one of the many callers, telling Russel that it would be Igby’s jurisdiction if he wanted to travel through the storm to make his way to your apartment.

You stared out your own window, twirling the telephone cord between your fingers and watching the rain as your drug dealer yelled across the apartment for his delivery boy. You could hear a quiet rustling noise on the other side of the line, but you couldn’t see the hazel-eyed boy tripping over himself and rubbing tiredly at his eyes as he hurried to the kitchen. Russel placed the palm of his hand over the receiver, relaying your message to Igby, who hugged himself against the room's chill. The dealer pushed the boy to go, bringing up the many cancellations of the day⸺not shying away from mumbling about how much you hated storms and that you would be all alone during one of the worst ones this season.

Igby could only nod, trying to seem as nonchalant as possible as Russel used you as bait to get more money. What he didn’t know was that the younger boy was going to go anyway. The two of you had spent so much time together it would have felt wrong if he didn’t follow your regular schedules.

Smiling wildly, the artist sang into the phone, “He’ll be there.”

After the call, you shamelessly awaited the boy's arrival, looking past the racing raindrops on your window to try and catch a glimpse of the red and yellow scarf you had grown familiar with seeing on the sidewalk outside your apartment. You knew that the boy would tease you endlessly, just as he always did if he knew you were watching that closely for him. Yet, you couldn’t pull yourself away from the glass that separated you from the outside. That is until you could see the boy jogging toward the entrance of the building, pushing past the others who also sought shelter from the sheets of rain falling from the sky.

Just as every time before, you had opened the door before he could even think of knocking. You were more prepared this time, immediately grabbing the dripping umbrella from his grasp and setting it aside. Your hands quickly peeling off his damp jacket and scarf before wrapping him in a blanket and taking a warm towel to his face to wipe off some of the remaining water droplets that clung to his skin.

“Jesus,” Igby forced out a chuckle, a shocked smile growing on his face as he grabbed at your wrist to pull the towel away from his hair. Tiny droplets of water clung to the ends, the added weight causing small pieces to fall slightly in front of his eyes. You watch his nose scrunch slightly before he speaks, “You could’ve told me to leave my shoes at the door if you were so concerned about me bringing water into your perfectly dry and tidy apartment.”

You roll your eyes at the sarcasm that drips from his lips onto your carpet just as the water slips from his shoes. The left side of your lip quirks up as you push the fallen pieces of hair out of the boy's face. His eyes shone brightly against his cold and pale features, his lips burning pink as they parted with the feeling of your touch. Even though he had just walked through the harsh cold rain, your touch brought forth the addictive warmth he’d become scared of growing familiar with. You place the small towel in his hands and put your own up in mocked surrender, “I just didn’t want you to be cold, you big baby.”

Igby laughs silently as he scrunches your towel through his hair, catching the blanket you put around his shoulders before it slipped off. You hold his eyes in contact with your own before walking toward the window seal where the two of you always sat.

The brunette boy followed behind you, sniffing lightly as he pulled the blanket tighter around him. As the two of you sat together, Igby tried to ignore the burning in his thigh as yours pressed against his own. Glancing at your touching limbs briefly, the boy looked at your smile before following your gaze out the window, where people were hunched over and running for shelter from the rain.

Narrowing his eyes with a growing smirk, the boy looked back at you, a teasing tone wrapped around his words, “It appears to me you like watching people suffer.”

“Suffer? They’re running in the rain. They’re not suffering.”

“How would you know? You haven’t left this room in months. You probably forgot how disgusting rain is,” The smirk on the boy's face was seemingly permanent as he tilted his head to catch your eye. His teasing didn’t go unwelcomed by you, a smirk of your own sliding onto your features as you huffed out a laugh.

Shaking your head, you look back down at the people holding umbrellas, newspapers, bags, and jackets over their heads. Raising an eyebrow, you look back at the boy, “Everyone looks the same when it rains. Everyone does the same thing⸺it’s cute.”

“Yeah, it’s only cute because you didn’t have to go through it,” The boy motions toward himself, emphasizing that he was still damp from his journey to your apartment.

“You looked like everyone else out there. Quickened pace and hunched over⸺you looked cute,” You laugh softly, the both of you turning away as a blush crept upon your faces in a revealing shade of ardent.

Allowing a crease to form between his eyebrows, the boy looked back at you with a humorous smile, “Were you watching for me?”

You didn’t answer, you didn’t have to. The way you refused to meet his eye and your soft laugh that was accompanied by a smile was enough for him to know. You hadn’t known each other for long, yet there was an easy nature that brought forth an understanding so strong you could identify each other's thoughts by just a simple action. Pulling a baggy out of his pocket, Igby tosses your supply into your lap as he bumps your shoulder, “God, you must have really wanted these drugs, huh?”

“Oh, yeah,” You nodded with fake enthusiasm, matching his sarcastic tone with a wide grin.

Igby smirks before leaning closer to you, his breath fanning your face as he speaks. You would blame the rosy pink color on your cheeks and neck on his body heat instead of what it really was, “Or did you really wanna see me? Hm?”

You smirked back and mirrored his actions, allowing the tips of your noses to brush together, “I don’t know. I gave you the jurisdiction over whether you wanted to come or not. And here you are. So I guess you really wanted to see me. Hm?”

Igby breaks your eye contact as he smiles down at his lap, trying to ignore the heat that rushes up his back as he quickly returns his gaze to yours. Noticing his hesitation to speak, you continued, rubbing your hands on your thighs as you grinned, “I mean, come on, you must admit that I’m your favorite customer.”

“You wish.”

With wide eyes, you scoff loudly before letting it transition into a laugh and lightly slap the boy's covered arms. Igby couldn’t fight his urge to join you, your laughs silent but warm with connection.

The two of you fall back into your familiar pattern of Igby telling his delivery horror stories while you listen intently, craving the sweet taste of human interaction. When he finished with the stories of today, he seamlessly transitioned into stories about what it was like to live with Russel, relishing the times that he made you laugh, soaking in every time you leaned in closer or pumped your body into his own.

It was a type of intimacy he had never quite experienced. To be so comfortable with someone that he could openly complain, make jokes, and tease without fear of backlash was almost foreign to him. However, he liked it, he liked it with you.

The rain continued to pour as you exchanged one story after another. Finding connections and making jokes to ensure that the moment between you lasts for even a second longer. It was the boy's small sniffles that caused you to pull the blanket tighter around his body. Rubbing his arms lightly, you watched closely for any indication that your touch was unwanted⸺it never would be, “Are you warming up?”

“Yeah, yeah,” Igby’s voice comes out hushed like a whisper, almost breathless, as shock ran through him at how gentle your touch was compared to anyone he had ever met. Licking his lips, his hazel eyes meet with yours, silence settling around you like the colors of the sunset settled in the sky.

“Good,” Your voice is whispered just as his was, the both of you becoming increasingly aware that the moment was approaching its end. However, both of you were grasping for ways to extend it, even if it were just for a few seconds.

Hoping that the familiarity of your routine would be enough, you held the bag in your lap with a hopeful smile, “You wanna smoke?”

The agreement was just on the tip of his tongue, but it was muted by the rolling thunder that alerted the teens of the storm's presence once more. Looking out the window, Igby frowned slightly, not wanting to leave you just yet, “I doubt you want to hold an umbrella for that long.”

“We can smoke it in here,” Your reply was fast, nearly stumbling over the remaining words of Igby’s short sentence. You tried to appear nonchalant as you continued, hoping not to look too pleadingly for his company, “If you don’t have anywhere else to be.”

The confirmation came in the form of a boyish grin, the two of you moving to the center of the living room to gain more comfort as Igby lit the joint that had been rolled and placed between your lips. With the fiery spark at the end of the paper, the boy on the floor leaned against the expensive floral couch, watching you inhale.

Any remaining tension or cold that remained between you was pushed out with your first exhale, floating away from the two of you in the form of twisted and traveling smoke. Igby watched as it dissolved into nothing and smiled at you lightly as you passed him the joint.

You observed the boy closely as he inhaled deeply and tried to blow out smoke in the form of an O, only succeeding in doing so twenty-five percent of the time. However, he didn’t care that he had failed to have a higher success rate; all he could focus on was the sound of your giggles beside him. He looked down at you as you lay with your stomach on the ground and your ankles kicking in the air. You looked childish and carefree, and for the first time, Igby didn’t feel compelled to mention it because he, too, looked childish and carefree.

Something that the two of you needed to be more often.

As the first joint worked through your systems, you had changed positions. Igby had removed the blanket from his shoulders and laid down with his back against the carpeted floor, a throw pillow from the couch tucked under his arms crossed over his chest. His feet were far from the couch; his ankles crossed over one another as he stretched out on the floor. To the left of his head was yours, your back had now been pressed against the floor as well, but now your feet were kicked up and rested on the couch.

You both held onto easy smiles, not a single muscle ached or twitched with the inkling of movement. Your minds swirled effortlessly with floating thoughts that replaced the attention of the heavier ones.

Tilting your head slightly to look out the window, you watched as the rain persisted, freefalling from clouds with no destination, “I love the rain.”

Scoffing lightly, Igby closed his eyes and squeezed the pillow, his body feeling heavy with relaxation. But not relaxed enough to not argue with you, “No, you don’t.”

“Yes, I do,” You laugh, lolling your head to look at the boy rather than out the window.

“No, you don’t. You hate storms.”

Shaking your head, you give the boy a confused look and chuckle softly, “When did I say that?”

“You didn’t. Russel told me.”

“Well, I don’t mean to rain on your parade, pretty boy, but I love the rain.”

Igby rolls his eyes at your giggled pun, hoping it was distracting enough to hide the flutter in his chest at you calling him pretty boy, “Well, I hate it. It’s cold, it’s wet, it’s annoying.”

“It’s New York.” You laugh at the boy's complaints, “There’s an entire season here dedicated to rain.”

“Exactly! It’s the worst! That’s why I wanna leave, get out of here. Somewhere where it never rains. Where it’s never cold.”

Subconsciously, Igby pondered if that was the reason he spent so much time in your apartment. He had been to many places filled with light and accompanied by expensive heating equipment, yet your apartment was the warmest place he had found in New York. Your place, with its wandering ghosts of your parent's decisions and expensive untouched furniture.

That only left you. You had to be the warmth that filled the apartment.

Turning your head to look at him, you watch his eyes trace shapes into the ceiling. His eased mind swirling with thoughts of sunny skies and serenity. Scanning his pale features, you speak quietly, not wanting to spook him from his thoughts, “So why don’t you?”

His eyes freeze on a spot on your ceiling, slowly coming out of his thoughts at the sound of your voice next to him. He turns to you with furrowed eyebrows, causing you to sit up on your elbows, which Igby is quick to mirror, “Go somewhere warm and where it never rains?”

“If I could, I would.”

Silence follows the truth of his statement, which makes Igby’s stomach turn. It was honest, but your lack of response jolted his heart into thinking you would scold him just as others before you have. Instead, you tilt your head in confusion after a prolonged moment of thought, “What’s stopping you?”

“I live with a drug dealer and deliver the drugs for him. What do you think is stopping me,” The boy huffs out a troubled laugh, his words intermixing with the harsh truth, yet his words held no resentment toward you, only toward his situation.

Pushing yourself further into a seated position, you examine the room before grinning at the boy. A helpful gleam dancing in your eyes, “Maybe I can help!”

“No,” Igby lies his head back down on the floor, his eyes returning to the ceiling. There was no compromising with him on this⸺it was the end of the discussion. At least for Igby, it was.

“Why not? I have a bunch of shit here you can pawn, or I can grab you some cash.”

He doesn’t move. He doesn’t take his eyes off the ceiling. He simply states again, “No.”

“It’s no big deal,” Confusion was laced in your words, circling around your sincerity in offering the boy help to make his grand escape.

Turning his head, Igby’s jaded eyes meet your hopeful ones before letting them narrow, “Okay, fine. One condition, though.”

He sits up, and you nod, ready to hand over anything to help him. He tilts his head and smiles sweetly, too sweetly. He knows he’s got you with his simple request, “You have to come with me.”

“What?”

“I mean, if you’re supplying me with the funds to leave, you might as well join me,” He speaks as if it’s obvious, his tone steady as his hazel eyes observe every emotion that glides over your features. He wondered if he should try to keep count of them, seeing as your face had changed many times within a few seconds.

You force out a laugh. It’s breathy and weak as you shake your head, trying to keep the wavering smile on your face, “You know I can’t.”

“Why not?”

Igby’s Cheshire cat smile was met with a stern look from you. You didn’t find his mocked confusion entertaining, especially because all you wanted to do was help him. Rolling his eyes, the boy let his head fall backward, “Who cares about your parents?”

“I do.”

“They’re holding you hostage here. We could leave and never see them again,” Igby’s voice starts confidently before becoming a hushed promise. You aren’t sure whether or not it’s for you or him, “Any of them.”

You look down at your lap, ashamed by the words that follow his, “I can’t.”

Shifting himself closer to you, Igby’s shoulder rubs against your own as he leans down to catch your eyes, his voice whispered with finality, “Which is why I refuse to take you’re money.”

“Fine,” You nod, causing him to grin triumphantly before lying back down. You follow his example, frustrated at your lack of assistance, “Is there anything I can do to help you, though? Non-currency-wise?”

Smiling to himself, his hazel eyes connect to your side profile, “Wanna smoke another joint?”

You look at him with a blank expression before breaking into a grin and standing up in your spot to gather your supply. The boy kicks himself into the sitting position again and lets his eyes follow you silently until you’re sitting in front of him again.

He watches as you lick the paper before rolling it and holds the lighter out to light the end of it for you. Letting your fingers lightly wrap around his wrist to keep the flame steady, you peek up at the boy through your eyelashes. His lips parted as he sucked in a breath at the eye contact, blinking harshly to potentially ease the crackling tension that always surrounded the two of you. Maybe it was unwise to hold a flame so close to flammable chemistry that circled around you.

Taking the first hit, you blow smoke to the side before handing Igby the joint, “Where would you go?”

“Hmm,” He hums questioningly into the joint with his eyes closed, more focused on inhaling the relaxation than anything else.

“Where would you go? I mean, you’ve had to have thought about it.”

“Los Angeles,” He hands the burning paper back to you, “It’s warmer there. It’s sunny.”

“Maybe you could get a tan,” You hold the smoke in your lungs as you send the boy a teasing grin, “You’re very pale.”

“Fuck you,” He pushes your shoulder lightly with a matching grin, a beautiful laugh escaping his lips, causing you to stare at them subconsciously.

Igby watches you as well as you laugh and takes the joint from you, “Where would you go?”

You give him a confused look, causing the boy to wave his hand around the room, “When you’re finally free from this hell hole? Where are you going to go?”

You blink and shake your head, “I don’t know.”

“Really?”

He doesn’t believe you, not entirely. Not when he has spent his entire life thinking about running away and getting out. But as much as you two had in common, you had many things that separated the two of you as well. Igby wanted out; you’ve only ever wanted an in.

“I haven’t really thought about it.”

“What,” His voice raises in apparent disbelief, “Getting out is the only thing I’ve ever thought of. You really haven’t thought about it? Not even once?”

You look up thoughtfully, your lips pulling in indecisiveness, “I mean, I guess the beach would be nice.”

Igby sits in silence, relishing in the fact that you are so nonchalant about leaving the apartment. Shaking his head, he leans his head against the couch cushion, “You think the beach would be nice? Jesus. Yeah, you really haven’t thought about it, have you? You’re really weird, you know that?”

You shrug, not offended by his words, causing the boy to narrow his eyes, “Well, what about your friends? I mean, wouldn’t they want to see you? Have you even thought about seeing them when you get out? Or do you have them over when I’m not around?”

The boy plays like he’s hurt, a hand on his heart and a pout on his lips, causing you to chuckle before shaking your head, “No, no, neither. Um, once I stopped showing up at Russel’s afterparties, no one kept in touch. Except Russel, but that’s only because I’m paying him.”

You take the joint from Igby’s fingers, quickly inhaling it as he watches, “I don’t think I have many friends, really. Most of the people I used to know were just people to take bumps with.”

The pale boy whistles lowly and shakes his head with a smirk, “So, you really are a loser, huh?”

You throw your head back laughing and hand him the joint, “Oh yeah, how many friends do you got?”

Igby’s smile wavers slightly as he thinks back to the friends he made at boarding school, which consisted of mainly other troubled kids. Rachel, who he enabled and used for shelter. And finally, he thought of Sookie. His heart aching as flashes of her blonde hair and greyish-blue eyes raced through his mind.

“I used to have this one friend, Sookie. She was the worst⸺she was vegan and older than me and was the type of spoiled who didn’t think they were spoiled⸺but I really liked her. She helped me pass the ILSTs. She’s actually the only reason I even took them.”

You tilt your head to catch his eye, the remaining bit of feelings he had for her lingering around his words, “You liked her.”

“I already said that.”

“No,” You chuckle as you scoot closer toward him, “I mean you liked her. Had a crush on her.”

“Oh, yeah,” The boy nods, but his face screws up before he starts shaking his head. Unsure of his feelings as he began to unpack them in front of you, “Actually, I don’t know. I mean, we had sex a few times, but I don’t know. I guess I just, I just trusted her.”

You note the frown on his face and lean into his side so that he’d look at you, “And where is Sookie now?”

“Sleeping with my brother.”

You look down awkwardly before slapping at the joint in his hand so that he’d take a hit, seeing as he needed it more than you, “Yikes.”

“Yeah,” The lost boy chuckles before inhaling, holding the smoke in his chest as he speaks, “So if you’re gonna do me any favors—don’t sleep with my brother, alright?”

He passes you the joint as you smile lightly, a joke slipping past your lips, “Can’t promise that if he’s hot.”

Igby jolts as if you had just slapped him upside the head with a pan. You almost laughed at how fast his head turned toward you, disgust growing over his features, “Gross! He’s, like, older than you and–and you would hate him!”

“Well, how old is he?”

“Around the same age as Sookie.”

You tilt your head in thought, a visible expression of reflection on your face as you shrug, “I’ve dated older.”

“That’s disgusting,” Igby didn’t try to hide his thoughts as he expressed them verbally and physically as his face scrunched up.

“Trust me,” You start before taking another hit of the joint, “I’m aware.”

Shaking his head, the brunette takes the joint between your fingers. Suddenly realizing that it was nearing its end, with his hesitation, you took note of the same thing, “Wanna shotgun it?”

Igby looks up at you, confused, causing you to quirk an eyebrow as you point to the burning paper, “The rest of it? Do you wanna shotgun it?”

“I don’t know, I’ve never really done that.”

Now, it was your turn to share your reaction of disbelief, “What? Really?”

Shrugging his shoulders, Igby tries to maintain a nonchalant stance, but he twitches as he begins to feel inexperienced. You smile lightly, “Why not?”

“Haven’t really wanted to get that close to someone else's face,” The boy quickly made an excuse, giving you an appalled look, “It’s actually—probably disgusting.”

“It’s not disgusting, it’s fun.”

Snorting, the boy mocked your excitement by raising his voice and waving his hands, “Yeah, I’m sure it’s so fun!”

You move so that you sit in front of him, his breathing catching in his throat as you grab his wrist that was holding the joint. Slowly, you bring his hand closer to your lips, letting them wrap around the joint and softly brush against Igby’s fingers. You hold your breath, letting the smoke dance around your lungs, and lean forward. Your noses touch briefly before you blow the smoke toward his lips. You watch as the smoke circles around his mouth but doesn’t enter.

Igby had been too busy holding his breath at your proximity, his eyes focused on yours as heat spreads over his body. You pull back laughing, “You’re supposed to inhale it when I blow it out.”

Having to break himself out of his trance, Igby blinks harshly and nods quickly, hoping you won’t back away and suggest doing something else, “Okay, okay. Try again.”

You do it again. This time, Igby brings the joint to your lips without your help, watching as you inhale it and leaning forward to meet you halfway. He was fully prepared to do whatever you needed him to do. As you blew out the smoke, he inhaled it, his eyes on your lips until the smoke disappeared into his lungs. Looking back up at you, he blows the smoke out of the side of his mouth. His lips tingling as the sensation mixes with the fire ignited in his chest. You smile at him and laugh as you speak, “I told you it was fun.”

“Shut up,” He laughs as well and brings the joint to his own lips, following what you did as he leaned forward, his nose crashing into yours as he moved quickly with excitement. You laugh at his giddiness before bringing your lips closer to his, letting them just barely brush together, sending a shock through both of your bodies.

You both make eye contact, holding it for a prolonged second before Igby finally pushes out the smoke due to the burning in his chest. You inhale the smoke and blow it to the side, heat spreading across your face as you feel the boy's eyes watching you closely.

After that, the two of you can only stare at each other, silently trying to calm your racing hearts and fluttered minds. The shock caused the energy in the room to shift, your bodies feeling like magnets being pulled apart but wanting desperately to regain their closeness. Igby seems to think first; wanting to get closer again, he tries to go for another round of shotgunning, but as he raises his hand to your mouth, you softly grab his wrist to stop it from coming near your lips. You slowly push his hand down as you lean toward him, your eyes locked on his hazel ones. His lips are parted, his tongue darting out anxiously as your lips come near his with caution. You hold yourself just an inch away from him, giving him an out, but he doesn’t take it. Instead, he starts to lean forward, his lips brushing just slightly against yours until a loud ringing jolts the two of you apart.

You close your eyes and place your hand on your heart as Igby turns around to look toward the kitchen, where the phone is ringing against its handle. He looks back at you with wide eyes, unsure how to proceed. You shake your head, making no movement toward the ringing device. Igby watches you, “Are you going to get that?”

“No, if it’s important, they’ll leave a message.”

The ringing finally stops as the answering machine picks up. Russel's voice singing through the machine, your name being the first thing to leave his lips, “Pick up the phone. Are you keeping my delivery boy hostage? Pick up! Tell him I have more running for him to do. Seriously? Pick up the phone. Give him back! He’s my delivery boy! You know I don’t like sharing. Igby, I know you’re there. Hopefully, you two aren’t getting pregnant. That’d be awful.”

Rolling your eyes, you stand up from your position and take long strides toward the phone as Igby slowly gets up and starts putting his shoes on, “Okay, okay, I’m sending him back to you. Jesus Christ.”

You could nearly hear the smirk on your dealer's face, “Was that so hard?”

“Fuck you, Russel,” You mutter into the phone, causing the man to speak happily before hanging up on you, “I love you too! And you’re welcome for the drugs, cunt!”

You hang the phone on its handle and turn to watch as Igby puts his jacket back on and grabs his umbrella. Jogging after him, you pick up his scarf that had fallen off the ground and reach out for him, “Wait!”

He turns around and lets you put the scarf around his neck. His hazel eyes watch you closely as you pat the fabric down, running your fingers over the material just as you always did. However, just as he thought you were about to let go, you do something unexpected. Meeting his eyes, you smile softly before leaning forward and softly kiss the mole on his cheek. When you pull away, Igby has half a mind to chase your lips but stops himself with a scoff, trying to look down to cover the pink dusting against his cheeks, “You’re fucking weird, you do know that, don’t you?”

“Do you know if you keep insulting me, I may need to tell Russel I want a new delivery boy?”

Igby chuckles and begins to walk out the door, and just like every time before, you walk him out and lean against the threshold of your door. The boy pushes the elevator button, shoving his hands in his pockets to prepare himself for the cold rain he was about to encounter again.

Looking over his shoulder, his hazel eyes connect with yours, causing him to pause in his action. Your smile wavered just slightly as his eyebrows furrowed, unsure of what was now swimming through his mind. Whatever it was, it caused him to make a sudden decision.

He takes long and powerful strides, yet his hands are soft as they cup your face, your noses brushing against one another, and deep breaths mixing together in an urgent burning of anticipation. Igby drags his lips lightly against your own, silently questioning if it’s what you want.

And you do.

So you push forward and press your lips harder against his. The kiss is new and slow, something neither of you were used to. Too used to rushing the experience due to your counterparts being older than you. Now, all it was was warm and gentle. Your hearts combining in an act of fluttering like butterfly wings against the summer sun—so warm, so young, so carefree, and so beautiful.

Your hands grip at his scarf, pulling his body closer, needing the growing glow of warmth to encapsulate this moment. The elevator dings behind Igby, causing you to pull back, but he chases your lips, pressing them together again to cling to the comfort he has never felt before.

With one last peck, he pulls away, placing his forehead against your own. His eyes locked on yours before they looked down at your plump lips, running his thumb over them soothingly. With every fiber of his body, he has to untangle himself from you and back himself into the elevator, having to catch the door before it closes on him. He sends you a final infatuated smile before the doors close.

Igby blinks as he loses his eye contact with you and lets out a breath he didn’t know he was holding, the smile on his face expanding with every tingle he felt. He knew he was about to face the cold rain again, yet this time, he knew it wouldn’t bother him. Not when the burning of your shared kiss still lingered in his body.

┗━•❃°•°❀°•°❃•━┛ ┗━•❃°•°❀°•°❃•━┛

NEXT PART

#kieran culkin #igby goes down #kieran culkin x reader #roman roy #igby x reader #igby #igby slocumb x reader #igby slocumb

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toms-cherry-trees · 1 year ago

Text

Don't Hold My Hand (I'll Break Your Heart) || Tommy Shelby x Fem OC ~ Ch. 1

Summary: Charlotte begins her new life at Arrow House, where things prove to be more daunting than she thought. The first bits of Tommy's past are uncovered

Word Count: 4k

Warnings: Tommy being a violent insolent ass. Usage of period accurate ableist terms for a disabled person

Author's note: SO SORRY FOR THE DELAY! Life and health got in the way and I had a massive writer's block for this story. This one is more to law background for what is to come but I promise it will be worth! Next chapter is already on the works and I have it mostly laid out

Requested taglist: @call-sign-shark

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The clattering of broken porcelain disrupted the peacefulness of the Friday morning, the shards of white and the remnants of breakfast spread over the hand woven carpets. Thomas had launched the plate with masterful precision in what Charlotte could only describe as an adult sized temper tantrum akin to a spoiled toddler. The teacup had followed a similar fate, ruining the expensive fabrics furthermore.

Charlotte had been working for a little over three weeks in Arrow House, and so far, things had progressed worse than she had originally anticipated. Enough to make her reconsider her vocation.

Thomas Shelby proved himself to be an almost unconquerable adversary, resisting tooth and nail every effort she made to help him in any way, shape or form. He refused aid in leaving the bed and dressing in the mornings, choosing instead to spend the best part of an hour struggling and cursing while Charlotte watched from the side, exasperated at his bullheadedness, but always within reach and ready to jump to his aid. He preferred his hair and beard to grow long and scruffy rather than allow her to give him a trim and shave; when Charlotte told him the castaway look didn’t suit him, he didn’t even cast a shadow of a smile. Any medicine served by her hand would be unjustly spilled or discarded, and even something as innocuous as a glass of water would be treated as if Thomas had been served poison straight from the bottle. She often had to sip or taste foods in front of him to prove she meant no harm.

That morning, he had refused to eat for the second day in a row, demanding to be served only whiskey or gin and his pack of cigarettes. He had been cross from the moment he woke up, all because Charlotte had laid his clothes on his bed within his reach to make it easier for him to dress unaided and grant him a piece of the independence he craved. She had even set a basin and cloth in a stool by the bed so he could have a morning wash to the best of his abilities.

Exhausted already with his mulish behaviour, she sat in front of him, ready to convince him by all means necessary, including force, to get him to have a bite. But no sooner had she sat next to him, he had flipped over the carefully arranged breakfast table, sending scrambled eggs and tea in every direction and destroying a most lovely set of blue crockery. Splatters of food stained the white apron and foresleeves of her uniform. A muscle ticked in her jaw, but she refrained herself from throttling Thomas and instead stood up slowly, hands laced and an amiable smile tugging at her lips, showcasing a patience that had begun to wear thin.

“You have to eat, Thomas” Charlotte spoke slowly, as if that way that man would somehow understand and change his attitude; but sooner would pigs fly than Thomas Shelby agreeing with anyone other than himself. He ought to be commanded on his determination to be obtuse.

“And I said I don’t want to” He quipped, watching in near amusement as Charlotte dropped on hands and knees to gather the broken porcelain inside the empty water basin, using the cloth to protect her hands and wipe the food. She knew she could just call a maid in to do the dirty job, but back in the old days, nurses acted as caretakers, maids, cooks and everything in between. She didn’t see the point of calling a girl all the way from downstairs for so little; and besides, she didn’t want witnesses on her failure to control her patient, nor subject another innocent soul to undeserved wrath.

“You need to eat to take your medicines, Thomas. Or you will ruin your stomach” The first couple of days he tried to force her to call him Mr. Shelby, but she quickly shot it down. Long gone were the days when she would have called him Sergeant Major Shelby and she would have been Nurse Tindall. They were Thomas and Charlotte, whether he approved or not. She would not give him even the slightless space to think himself superior to her in any way.

He waved his hand, dismissing her concerns as mere nuisances, as he did with every other thing she did for him. Thomas rejected the medicines daily, especially the pain medicines, but Charlotte knew better. Her sharp eye soon noticed how the liquid inside the bottles would remain the same and then suddenly drop a considerable amount overnight; Thomas didn’t retain enough usage of his legs to walk long distances unaided, but he surely had enough strength of body and mind to stagger towards the cabinet where she kept the vials and bottles. He drank his fill, even if he denied it, and surely more than he should.

“I’m not taking those fucking things” He snapped “Now get out of my room” He maneuvered the chair towards the doors leading to the veranda. If allowed to, any day he would move his bed and desk out there and just spend the rest of his days staring at the trees and the horses trotting in the paddocks, feeling the kiss of the sun in his skin and enjoying the breeze carrying scents of earth and trees. The first days, she offered Thomas many times to take him out for a walk in the gardens, or even take him to the paddocks; but he shot down every attempt with a ridiculing sneer and some less than kind words

Frustrated but not yet defeated, Charlotte tossed the last of the broken porcelain into the basin, perhaps with more strength than she should, and carried it downstairs towards the kitchens. As she descended the grand staircase, she made a conscious effort not to look at the paintings. For whenever she walked past them, she felt Mrs. Shelby’s penetrating gaze following her steps.

Her portrait outshone all the others, hanging front and centre overseeing the foyer. Blonde hair curled fashionably, clad in an emerald green frock with golden trimming and covered in jewels, from the impressive necklace to the heavy earrings hung with pearls. The frame stood as tall as two people, engraved mahogany wrapped in gold leaf. Her icon dominated the house, seen in multiple photographs and smaller paintings in every room. But none matched the opulence of that one, and none unnerved Charlotte as much.

She had the portrait, but she didn’t have the person. In three weeks, not once had she come face to face with Mrs. Shelby. True, her duties limited her only to the second floor and occasionally the kitchen, but surely a wife would come to visit her husband every now and then? Charlotte never asked, as she had no reason nor true desire to know of her whereabouts, and simply assumed she was away, perhaps visiting family or on a trip to the new world.

But even then, it puzzled her to think she would leave behind her young son. Little Charlie, who lived his days surrounded by nannies since no one seemed to have time for him. Thomas seldom saw him; only when someone brought the toddler directly to him did he gift the boy some insipid paternal love in the form of a ruffle of the hair and a pinch of the cheek. These encounters distressed the boy, who pouted and whined most of the time, as if feeling himself endangered by Thomas’ presence. A child so isolated from his father he no longer recognised him as a source of safety.

As Charlotte entered the kitchens, she came face to face with Mrs. Gray. The woman seldom left the house either, but unlike Thomas, for vastly different reasons. She spent her day, morning to bedtime, divided between meetings, phone calls, paperwork and more meetings. Arrow House housed the family’s race horses

and she spoke daily with the trainers and the vet, as well as with a pudgy, bald man who came exclusively to deliver a foal. Men also came to the house, seeking to see Thomas but never making it pass the impenetrable barrier of his formidable aunt. They always spoke outside, as far as possible from prying ears, and left as swiftly and quietly as they came, more often than not pocketing paper envelopes or packing suitcases in the trunks of their cars. Charlotte never asked, having taught herself quickly to turn a blind eye to whatever happened under the roof that wasn’t supposed to. She had been hired to care for a man, not to keep tabs on the family affairs.

But Charlotte suspected she also wanted to keep an eye on things, mostly on how Lottie and Thomas got along. It did not go unnoticed, how often Charlotte found her lingering outside the double doors or standing halfway through the grand staircase, always within earshot, but always with an excuse perched upon her lips should she be caught. Perhaps she just wanted to ensure Thomas behaved; or maybe stood at guard ready to catch Charlotte before she could flee the job in panic.

Now, she sat at the large wooden table sipping tea and nibbling biscuits, the newspaper spread in front of her. Despite her high status within the house, she could often be found having her meals downstairs alone, eating roasted goose and lamb chops and drinking oak aged whiskey while sitting on benches of coarse wood and warmed up by the cooking stove, her finely made clothes impregnating in the smell of smoke and onions. Charlotte knew the Shelbys had come bottom to top, but sometimes it appeared they hadn’t quite settled there comfortably. At least Mrs. Gray seemed to enjoy climbing down a few rungs in the ladder every now and then.

Charlotte avoided eye contact with her at all costs as she fetched the garbage bin, her back turned to hide the basin from view as she tipped the food and shards inside. She tried to do it silently, but nothing could mask the unmistakable sound of broken porcelain and guilt.

“He did it again?” Her voice broke through the silence, making Charlotte flinch instinctively, although the words only carried shame and tired exasperation, feelings shared by both women. Still she felt like a child, caught by her mother failing miserably at a task she promised she would accomplish easily.

She straightened her back and turned around oozing improvised confidence, smile never faltering as she faced her employer, the basin perched in her hands in a way that hid the porridge stains inside. No one would dare look at her and think that Thomas had slowly but steadily driven her to her wits’ end. No, they had to just take one look at her and immediately be assured that everything was perfect. She had to be the image of calm and composed, even when she just wanted to rip out her hair.

“Just a mishap, Mrs. Gray, nothing to be concerned with. I misplaced the tray and knocked it over when I stood. I promise it won’t happen again” The smile widened just enough to appear reassuring, perfectly matched with her soothing voice. She would sooner concoct a dozen lies than admit she might have found her match in the likes of Thomas Shelby. Charlotte was not foreign to difficult patients; men too prideful or obstinate to welcome help even at their lowest point. But they all bent the knee sooner or later. Everyone had a limit, a line that once crossed forced them to admit defeat. She just had to find Thomas’ line, wherever it drew. Surely no mortal man could be so obdurate.

The corner of Mrs. Gray’s lips rose in a half smirk, a glint of bemusement in her features; she knew liars and tricksters when she saw them, even if they only carried good intentions on their false words. She could smell them from fifty paces.

“You must have launched yourself from the seat then, since I could hear the plates crashing from down here. As if it flew across the room purposefully” Heat rose to Charlotte’s cheeks but she did not waver in her stance. Her lips parted to speak, but Mrs. Gray beat her to it, standing up and rummaging through the cupboards.

“Sit.” The order was spoken softly, but an order nonetheless.

Lottie swallowed “There’s no need. I left Thomas alone and-”

“He can survive for fifteen minutes, and you look like you need a cup”

Defeated, and secretly glad to have a break, Charlotte abided, taking a seat and leaving the basin carefully hidden under the table. Soon a cup of tea steamed before her, Earl Grey with no milk and three sugars. She stirred it with the spoon tiredly, letting the metal heat up in her hand, but she couldn’t find it in her to bring it up to her lips as a sudden wave of exhaustion washed over her.

A comfortable silence lingered, broken only by the occasional servant who headed to the kitchen, but turned and left the second they saw the two women sitting there. Peering through her eyelashes, Charlotte noticed Mrs Gray didn’t even look in her direction, more focused on her breakfast and her newspaper, waiting for the younger woman to speak first. Lottie sipped her tea, hoping the soothing liquid would undo the knot she felt in her stomach every time she found herself in Mrs. Gray’s presence.

“He is difficult” She admitted, feeling like an officer admitting to the general that they had lost a battle. The battle, but not the war; she hadn’t sunk so low yet “And you warned me so, and I believed you because I saw it myself when I met him. But I thought he was just another veteran embittered with life that just needed the nudge in the right direction. I thought- “

“That you could help him” She completed the sentence with an understanding nod, as if she had seen the words written across Charlotte’s forehead. As if those piercing, dark eyes granted her the power to read others’ minds. And more than once, Lottie believed the Shelby matriarch possessed some skills that could only be described as magic or a sixth sense. She saw beyond the range of the normal eye, that much she could tell. And now the woman saw through Charlotte as easily as if she had been made of glass.

“But now he has proved to be more than you can chew'' The words didn’t come off as reproachful or taunting. Mrs. Gray didn’t seem to find joy in the admission of her defeat; rather she sounded empathic, as she could easily understand her plight. And she did, considering that she had been the one burdening the weight of her nephew’s care in between the cracks. Only she knew to a personal level the difficulties that came with caring for the ailing; worse even when they are your family.

Charlotte took a long sip, letting it soothe her nerves. Because if she freed her mouth to speak, she might say something she would regret; such as that maybe she overestimated her abilities for the job. Common sense told her that no amount of money could be worth being subjected to such treatment, but the sense of duty that pulled at her whenever she stared into Thomas’ eyes overpowered said logic. He had given all he had for the sake of duty, and Charlotte could not deprive him of the care she could provide him just because he behaved like an insufferable prick.

“Has he always been like this?” The question left her mouth without permission. A question that had been circling in her head since the first day. War had changed them all, but such an attitude had to have a foundation. She had managed to rip out smiles from men who had been maimed, disfigured and ruined beyond help. Thomas only reciprocated her efforts by giving her the overwhelming desire to smack him around “I know he is angry, and he is entitled to it. But…” She shook her head “He is unlike anything I have met before”

“Tommy has that effect on people” Mrs Gray replied “He always had a special talent to be unsettling to others for various reasons. Even as a teenager. And he never withstood being seen as weak or defenceless.” She pushed aside the breakfast and newspaper to lean in closer to Charlotte, those deep eyes of hers fixed upon the young nurse.

“Before all of this happened, back when he was…normal” She grimaced at that word, and so did Charlotte. He was not abnormal, just different “He prided himself in dominating every room he stepped in. In the fear and respect he inspired on others. People looked at him and they lowered their eyes and shut their mouths. They moved out of his way when he walked and tipped their hats in his direction. No one spoke before he did. If he told a man to act like a dog, you can be damn sure that man would bark and wiggle his tail. No one went against him”

Mrs. Gray leaned back again, hands laced before her, her multiple rings making quiet sounds as she wrung her hands tightly “Having people looking down at him, seeing him as a broken and useless thing, it is something he cannot handle. As if all the power he once held slipped between his fingers like sand. So he overcompensates with his temper.If he cannot make you look up at him, he will make sure you feel inferior to him” The words resonated with Charlotte, and they made sense, in a sick way. If he could not tower over others, he could only diminish them to keep them under his foot. And he redoubled those efforts with Charlotte, who acted unwilling to bow her head.

“Is he the same with all his family? I mean, how does his wife stand him?” Another embarrassingly indiscreet question she didn’t mean to pronounce but could not be taken back now. Besides, the opportunity to sate her curiosity had presented itself so easily she could not let it go to waste. Whoever he had married, the poor woman had earned the key to the pearly gates for putting up with him.

Mrs. Gray’s expression darkened, her lips downturning into a scowl and her shoulders tensing noticeably “She doesn’t. She didn’t” She sighed slowly, taking her sweet time to pick out a cigarette from the golden case “When his problems began, Tommy distanced himself from her. He refused to share her bed. You can imagine why” She took a long drag, exhaling the smoke through her nose as she stared at the wall behind Lottie “She didn’t try to bridge the gap; if anything, she made it bigger. I suppose when she said in sickness and in health before the altar, she hadn’t expected sickness to be like this. No respectable woman wants to be married to a cripple” Contempt and bitterness laced the words, her lips scrunched like she had tasted bile.

“One day she left, as simply as that, fled in the night like a common criminal. Took the jewels and the money and boarded the first steamboat for America. Didn’t even think to take her son with her” Mrs. Gray spoke of the act with undeniable hatred; a hatred only a mother could muster, witnessing another mother abandoning her young child without a second look.

The revelation shocked Charlotte, and a wave of sympathy flooded her suddenly. To lose the ability to walk, to lose his superiority, and also his wife? Even though it did not justify his actions entirely, it did allow him some slack. Any person in his position would harbour anger towards the world, but that didn’t mean he had to release it on every soul that crossed his path

“What happened then?”

“Sent a lawyer to handle the divorce for her. I thought Tommy would fight her with everything he had, but he didn’t. He simply agreed to give his signature on the condition she left Charlie to him. And she did. Signed off her rights to her own baby for some American cock” She spat aside, as if riding herself of venom; as if speaking of that woman would be enough to poison her

Charlotte sat there baffled, still processing the information she had just received. To think that the woman whose face she stared at every day had abandoned her family, her husband and son, and yet her picture remained up there in the wall, in the place of honour like a venerable goddess. Tommy had given her the divorce to set her free, but he refused to let go of her memory. Out of love or to preserve it for their son she couldn’t tell. Pity crept into her, as much as she didn’t want to. It showed in her eyes and her face, in the way her posture dropped and how her hands lowered to her lap.

“What a horrible thing” She lamented, her tone dropping an octave as she shook her head in disbelief “How could she do something like that?”

“Not many are willing to be a lifetime caretaker. You should know that better than most” She snuffed the cigarette on the table, leaving a little darkened mark along countless others, no doubt all of them of her own creation.

“Charlotte, there is a reason why I chose you to come instead of putting up an advertisement and letting candidates flock in like birds. You are resilient, I can tell just by the way you smile every morning at Thomas even when he yells and curses and breaks things at your feet. He is difficult and you are strong willed” The hint of a smirk returned to her face, a certain mischief glinting in her eyes “I know Thomas will eventually give in to you. Just give him more time”

More time. How much more? She could only take so much, and even the most cheerful person in the kingdom would find themselves chipped away by constant berating and mistreatment. But she had made herself a promise, to pick up this lost cause and not drop it. Mrs. Gray counted on her and trusted her, otherwise she would not have made her privy to the secrets of Thomas’ life. And that pulling she felt, that unexplainable and irrepressible sense of protection she felt for him, whether he liked it or not.

She had never been one to believe in otherworldly things, but she knew, unconsciously, that she had been put in Thomas’ path for a reason. A duty she could not abandon. Because if she dropped his cause, there may be no one else to pick it up.

Charlotte finished her tea and took a deep breath. The conversation had renewed her vigour and boosted her confidence in the task ahead. She stood from the table and smoothed down her apron

“I won’t give up on him, Mrs. Gray. I know he needs help and I will be there for it, no matter how much he pushes me away”

Mrs. Gray smiled; not a smirk, but a sincere smile.

“Good to hear. He will need someone now more than ever”

That little bit puzzled Charlotte, her eyebrows furrowed and head slightly cocked to the left

“What do you mean by that?”

Mrs. Gray stood up, a new cigarette perched between two fingers. She let expectation build up as she went through the process of selecting a match from the box to light her cigarette

“A doctor is coming in a few days. A new therapist from London, expert in wounded veterans he says”

She flicked the butt of the cigarette with her nail, as if debating whether or not to continue.

“He thinks he can make Tommy walk again”

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