#he wont escape my mind

[glassrowboat]

Hey guysssss *insert lip biting emoji*

[ruporas]

feast (ID in alt)

[im-smart-i-swear]

can you remember being born? were you born at all

[landmine-doll]

for personal comfort reasons im going to draw my fav character in dark girly clothes

hes gonna look so pretty! 💖

[wifeyoozi]

mingyu & wonwoo : Still stuffed, one shot, double kill

w.c : 3.1 k ┊ synopsis : boyfriends mingyu and wonwoo give their bestfriend more than you could have bargained for, but you are not complaining┊ content warning : smut , best friends to lovers sorta, bisexual threesome (m/m/f) , oral sex (f + m rec) , edging , hard dom (top) wonu + sub (bottom) gyu + sub reader , slight size kink , (idrk what its called but ig sandwich sex?) , anal (m rec) a/n : note that depiction of mingyu and wonwoo as bisexual is just for the entertainment of this fic and I do not intend to impose any sexuality on them irl. also I was absolutely wasted drunk when I wrote this so I don't even know just nasty threesome.

it was just another video game night with wonwoo and mingyu. it was at your house, like always, because you had a gaming system installed in your bedroom instead of the living room unlike wonwoo and mingyu's shared apartment. and all three of you agreed that the bed was more comfortable to spread out and sit on while gaming.

you yelped from the right side of the bed, having won yet another round (well, technically you came second, but at least you won against mingyu). the screen in front showed the game over slide once again. you sighed and got of the bed to stretch your libs a little.

"i'm getting more beer," you announced seeing all three of your cans empty already, "y'all need anything else?"

"some snacks would be great!" mingyu called out. you took the empty cans to dispose off and left the bedroom.

you, mingyu and wonwoo have been best friends forever. you and mingyu had been childhood friends since you were neighbours. you met wonwoo in highschool and decided immediately to make him part of your little gang. the friendship remained as solid as it could throughout school and college.

wonwoo and mingyu had started dating around last year after pinning over each other for almost 2 years until mingyu asked wonwoo out for a date finally and wonwoo agreed shyly. you knew both boys were in some part of the bisexual spectrum and them dating didn't change a thing in your friendship. you were happy for them and rooted for them all the time, but you'd lie if you were to say you weren't a little jealous. you just wished you had someone to take care of you the way they did of each other. of course, they took care of you almost as well as a boyfriend would, but its been so long since your last relationship that you need more than just care.

meanwhile, mingyu and wonwoo had started making out on your bed in your absence, kissing nastily with wet noises enveloping the room. "mingyu, stop, y/n is gonna come soon," wonwoo whisper yells when he felt mingyu's hand get frisky over his sweatpants.

"i can't help it baby. you're so hot, winning every round like that. you deserve some reward," mingyu argues and wonwoo can't the sound that escapes his throat when mingyu latches his mouth on his neck, "besides, its been so long, i can barely keep away from you."

wonwoo chuckle, "we fucked last night."

"my point, its so long already," mingyu said sucking a hickey on wonwoo's neck. they were too lost in their own world to notice the door opening.

"uhm, guys?" you didn't mean to interrupt them, but you were also not exactly sure what you were supposed to do seeing them make out like animals in heat on your bed. it was hot to see them frisky like that, you had never before seen them get like this, but you had to remind yourself that it was not appropriate to think of your two best friends like that.

"o-oh! y/n! we're so sorry-" wonwoo stumbled to say, pulling away from mingyu and adjusting his glasses back up.

you didn't exactly know how to react. for one, it was difficult to unsee the growing bulges in both boys' pants. it wont be very easy to continue the game again after having that image in your mind. the beer you have had has made you a little horny - its an effect alcohol seems to have on you always - and your hot gay bestfriends weren't making it easier for you.

"whatchu thinking 'bout?" mingyu asks in a more teasing tone, seeing you malfunctioning and just standing in your place like a broken machine, "thinking 'bout joining us?"

mingyu was smacked on his arm by his boyfriend, "gyu! be nicer!"

"what? its not the worst idea," mingyu says, rubbing the spot he'd been hit on, "i remember her mentioning her interest in threesomes last time we got drunk at joey's. besides, i know you find her really hot, you'd love it too, right? i see this as a win-win!"

"i-i never said that!"

"oh but your eyes say it all, baby. i've seen how you check out her ass all the time. i am not complaining, don't worry, i do find her really hot too." mingyu was smacked again.

"boys, boys! what are y'all talking about?" you were dumbfounded. wonwoo checks out your ass!? mingyu finds you hot!? that's some great information to digest. wonwoo and mingyu share glances, as if speaking more than that you can hear with their eyes alone

"say, y/n, i'm horny, nonu is horny, and you could join us if you like, no pressure, but we'd really make it worth your time," mingyu says, looking back at you.

"you don't have to if you don't want to. you could say no and we'd never speak of it again," wonwoo adds.

you think about it seriously. on one hand you were really arounsed and your bestfriends' bulging sizes against their respective pants were sending blood to your crotch and they just offered you for a threesome. then on the other hand, your conscience said it was morally wrong to do this.

fortunately for you and your throbbing pussy, you had just the right amount of alcohol in your system to put your morals aside.

"okay, what the hell," you mumble and jump on the bed between the two, pulling them both by the collar. mingyu giggles as he pins you down and connects his lips to yours instantly. you feel two pairs of hands exploring your body, feeling you up and messing with your clothes. mingyu ravishes your mouth with his tongue, kissing you wet and dirty.

you are surprised when wonwoo pushes aside mingyu's head to take his turn to kiss you. you whine into his mouth, feeling the sudden change. wonwoo can taste mingyu in your mouth still, and the mixed flavours with the taste of your mouth turn him on incredibly. if you thought mingyu was a dirty kisser, wonwoo was worse. his spit was all over the places as he kissed you hungrily and open-mouthedly, and you absolutely loved it.

it must be visible on your face because mingyu chuckled at you, already taking off his clothes, "i should warn you, y/n, wonwoo may look shy and innocent with his nerdy glasses, but he is a complete freak in bed. he is a literal sex monster."

you gasped at mingyu's words. wonwoo took the opportunity to stick his tongue deep down your throat, making you almost choke. then suddenly, it was gone. wonwoo pulled back from you, making you chase his lips, but he pushed you down. he sat up on the bed, taking off his t-shirt, making you whine as he did it all so slowly.

"mingyu, take off her clothes."

mingyu obeyed so. your shirt was pulled off you, your bra taken off at a speed that your think the clasps must've broken, and your shorts yanked off. you felt cold and exposed out in the air, so you tried to approach mingyu to kiss you again, heat your body with his again. but your hair was pulled, making you fall back on the bed with a gasp.

"did i say you could kiss him already?" wonwoo's eyes were dark, and you were scared of him in a hot way which made you want to obey everything he says like a little obedient slut. you were leaking so bad from his strong demeanor, you were sure they both could see the huge dark spot on your panties.

wonwoo leaned by your ears, and whispered softly, "if i make you uncomfortable with my words or action, you can tell me to stop, yeah?"

you nodded, but you didn't plan to. if anything, you wanted him to keep acting meaner to you. you didn't know you would be into being dominated like this until now.

wonwoo snaps at mingyu after that, "open her legs up, kiss her thighs." mingyu does just that, slowly spreading you knees apart and placing buttery wet kisses long your thighs, nearing to your core. you cannot make out if the sound he makes is a laugh or a moan against your soft thighs when he sees how wet you are.

wonwoo snakes his hand down to your breasts, grabbing one in each hand and slowly kneading the flesh. "take her panties off," wonwoo commands mingyu and he does so. "lick her up. she's making a mess, lick all her juices up."

mingyu licks a flat strip along your pussy, his tongue dipping into your folds. wonwoo helps him, reaches a hand to open your outer labia with two fingers, and properly gives mingyu access. mingyu licks a long strip from your slit to your clit and you let out loud whorish moans to let it be known how much you love this.

"squeeze his head with your thighs, he likes that," wonwoo tells you and you comply with him without even thinking. you press your thighs to mingyu's ears, enough to for him to feel the pressure but not so much you'd hurt him. but that's not what wonwoo wants. "more," he he tells you, and you squeeze your thighs tighter around his head until, --

oh. mingyu moaned over your cunt, and you felt the vibrations. wonwoo smirked when he heard it too. he grabbed a hold of mingyu's short hair tightly and pushed his head deeper into your cunt. you understand now. mingyu likes being hurt like this. he likes being controlled by wonwoo. you couldn't hear what wonwoo said next, lost in the thoughts when you suddenly felt a tongue dart into your cunt, earning a choked moan from your lips.

wonwoo leaned down to kiss your nipples, sucking on them and licking them up like a hungry cat. your hands reached over his head, lacing your fingers through his soft hair. you were close already and both the boys could sense it from the way your moans got more erratic and your thighs trembled.

you were just about to reach your high when wonwoo grabbed mingyu's head and pushed him away from your cunt. a cry left your lips, your cunt spasming and clenching around nothing with all sensations gone. you felt tears filling up your eyes as wonwoo leaned down and kissed your lips.

"there, there. it wasn't that bad now, was it? i know a pretty girl like you can take better," wonwoo's words were comforting, as his hands rubbed circles on the side of your hips, but his tone was awfully teasing and it just made you want to cry harder.

wonwoo instructed mingyu to sit up on the bed against the headboard and got you on all fours in front of him so your face was to mingyu and ass to wonwoo who was preparing his dick behind you. mingyu's dick was red and hard against his belly, but he wouldn't dare touch it without wonwoo's instructions. mingyu and wonwoo were a little similar in sizes, you noticed (and it made your mouth salivate), except mingyu was thicker than wonwoo and the latter was longer.

it was more so of a punishment for you too, to just watch his painfully erect dick and not put it in your mouth. hell, you couldn't even kiss his pretty pink pouty lips until wonwoo said you could. you had only spent twenty minutes with wonwoo and mingyu in bed, but you already knew the rules of this game. you knew wonwoo was in charge of everything and you should obey everything he says, otherwise the consequences could be harsh. and that turned you on incredibly.

wonwoo played with his dick, sliding along the length of your slit, teasing you. "wonu, please," you whimpered needily.

"hm? did you say something?" wonwoo said in a fake tone, landing a smack on your ass, only to rub the spot soothingly soon after, "its difficult to hear with this beautiful pussy in front of my eyes."

you whined again, tears falling down your cheeks. mingyu was smirking at you, as if he was in any better position than you with his throbing untouched dick.

"daddy, please, fuck me," you whimpered at wonwoo.

the latter chuckled, slowly pushing his head into your cunt, already prepped and stretched by mingyu's tongue before. "shit, you're so fucking needy. just a needy little slut, arent you? don't worry, i'll fill your pussy up."

he set a high speed for you. you gasp and almost fall face-flat on the bed, only to be held up by mingyu. mingyu's other hand clutched the sheets, trying his best not to lose control. he liked being a good boy for wonwoo. the rough punishment-fuck was good, yes, but he loved the way wonwoo praised him and rewarded him better. besides, he had to be a good role model for you.

wonwoo could see the desperation on his boyfriend's face, and chuckled, deciding he deserved a treat. "mingyu has been a really good boy, don't you think, y/n? why don't you blow his dick, hm?"

wonwoo pushed your head down till your mouth was on mingyu's dick. you licked a long strip lengthwise on his erection, testing and teasing. mingyu let out a guttarial moan and you took his dick inside your mouth as far as it could go. wonwoo wasn't satisfied with your mediocre efforts, and pushed your head till you swallowed all of mingyu.

you forced your gag reflexes to relax as mingyu's head hit the back of your throat. with wonwoo's relentless speed, your head bobbed over mingyu's dick from inertia alone, not having to do a lot of work. mingyu's thighs started convulsing soon and both of you were near to your edge already. you thought if you don't let it show you were close, wonwoo wouldn't notice until you're actually cumming and he wouldn't be able to edge you a second time.

it was risky, but you really wanted to cum already.

unfortunately for you, mingyu was too obedient to his boyfriend to cum down your throat without asking first.

"wonu, i'm close," he whined, making wonwoo pull your head off mingyu by your hair, making you whine loudly. you whined even louder when wonwoo exited you without giving you the release you needed.

"you are really noisy, y'know that?" wonwoo tells you teasingly. "good for you, i love hearing your sweet voice. stay in your position. mingyu come back here."

mingyu stands up on weak legs and kneels on the edge of the bed in front of your ass, his dick the perfect height to your entrance. wonwoo took a hold of his lover's dick and slowly pushed it in you again. you gasped at the unexpected intrusion. "hold her hips, baby, or she'll fall. she's so weak, you gotta help her. now, don't move yet, be patient."

mingyu stays still, painfully deep inside you. you loved the stretch from his dick. you could almost feel his tip brush against your sweet spot - if only he'd move a little and hit it with force.

you heard a whimper from mingyu, making you look back over your shoulder. your eyes widened, seeing wonwoo fingering mingyu from the back, two fingers deep already, preparing him. you realised what was about to come instantly. you turned your back and waited in anticipation, knowing that the best blow will come with the surprise of it.

you couldn't be more right because as soon as wonwoo's hips snapped against mingyu's, mingyu's snapped against yours, going balls deep. the feeling was extreme, one of a kind, and thrilly. mingyu's dick hit every right spot at every hit, making you reach cloud nine with the feeling. if not for mingyu's hands supporting your hips, you would have fallen down already with how weak your limbs felt.

the room sounded really filthy with the rhythmic double slapping of skins mixed with your moans, mingyu's whimpers and wonwoo's groans. but certainly mingyu was having the best time among you three, with his prostrate being abused by his boyfriend's dick on one end and having his dick swallowed by his best friend's pussy on the other. his eyes were rolling back and his throat ached with the loud noises it created. he was close a second time and he let his boyfriend know of it.

"cum on her pretty ass," wonwoo said, marking his sentence with a loud smack of his hand on mingyu's ass, making the latter cry. just as instructed, mingyu exited you before cumming ropes of white semen in your ass. "such a good puppy. now help her cum too. use your fingers on her clit."

mingyu's fingers found their way to your sensitive clit, rubbing in circular motions. you barely took any time before you were squirting, wetting the bed under you with a cry. you let your body fall on the bed and turn on your back so you could embrace mingyu, who fell right on top of you. wonwoo had slowed his speed a little to let his lover come down from his high at a relaxed pace without overstimulating him.

you kissed mingyu and mingyu kissed you, both finding comfort in the wet warmth of the other's mouth. the sight was oddly a turn-on for wonwoo, who soon came deep inside mingyu's ass, giving him a creampie as he exited. mingyu rolled over on the bed beside you, eyes closed shut from the tiredness.

you vaguely saw wonwoo get up and leave to the bathroom before your own eyes fell shut. you were sleepy already, it's probably past your usual bedtime. you barely registered being wiped clean with a warm and wet towel before being dressed in your pajama shorts and a loose tshirt. when your eyes opened wonwoo was doing the same to mingyu, kissing him on the top of his head after.

mingyu rolled to his side and snuggled against you sleepily, making you giggle softly while wonwoo got himself a pair of grey shorts to put on. wonwoo pouted and mumbled something under his breath before he snuggled on your other side. both the boys practically sandwiched you, with your back to wonwoo and front to mingyu.

you saw as the boyfriends shared a goodnight kiss, the sweetness dripping, making you smile for them. then mingyu looked at you with pouted lips, and you muttered a me too? before he pressed a kiss to your lips. you giggled as wonwoo picked your cheek as goodnight too.

"so, uhm, is this a thing now? we ... three?"

"it could be, if you like."

"i think i'd like it, it be great."

"this is so perfect, my cute little boyfriend and my cute little girlfriend." mingyu chuckled.

"i'm not little!" you and wonwoo whined simultaneously.

[imsilay]

I love your stalker König, have you considered writing about him kidnapping the reader?

Kidnapping them, locking them in his home so that when he comes back from his missions he can play “house” and “make love to his little wife”. Age gap is also always so good 🩷

IT WAS ON MY MIND BUT WHEN YOU REQUESTED IT I HAD TO WRITE ilysm <3

SOAR

NSFW! mdni +18, cw: kidnapping, obsessive behavior, fem!reader, König is a fucking delusional, riding, fingering.

word count: 2k

summary: Your sweet captor König fucking you after coming back to home from a long mission.

next part here

art cr: yashk_pucyet on twt

An ominous whistle echoed through the hall as he made his way to the front door of his apartment. The way he walked, his hands on his pockets and long steps, told how delighted he was to finally be back home. Other soldiers were already at the bar, celebrating their victory. But for him it was different. He didn’t wanted alcohol and woman. He wanted you. That was why he was rushing to home. He couldn’t wait to see his sweet wife, to worship his prize, to use his pet. He was aching to have you in his arms, your legs wrapped around his waist as he did basically everything in the house. He was clingy yes. He knew it but didn’t care. You were his already. So that meant he could do anything he wanted with you.

He already had his keys when he arrived at the door. Impatiently unlocking the door and kicking his shoes off. He closed and locked the door. A wont. “I’m back meine Königin.” he said not too loudly. He wouldn’t want to startle you because it was midnight and he knew you didn’t like loud noises. He walked through living room, it was designed simple; a couch and a tv unit with some plants, he could buy better but it was safe if it was small and basic. The door of your shared bedroom opened as he decided to stay silent in case you were sleeping. His heart hammer his chest when he saw your sleeping form in his bed. the sheets covered some of your body but the way your pajama pants was slid up exposing your soft thigh made his head spin.

See? He didn’t need any alcohol, you were intoxicating enough for him. “Meine Königin.” he purred as he quickly took of his gear and other clothes until he was just in his boxers. His mask was thrown away for him to find tomorrow. He climbed on the bed next to you. His massive body took the majority of the space but he wasn’t complaining. This way you were more close with him.

He gently turned your body towards him and took a sharp breath when he saw you wasn’t wearing any bra. “Nein, i should let you sleep. I don’t want my wife to be mad at me.” he mumbled as he wrapped his arms around you and pulled you onto his chest. “I missed you so much, meine Königin.” he whispered and kissed your cheek. You clinged to his body unconsciously for more warmth. The way your body pressed against his -especially the feeling of your breasts underneath your t-shirt- made him want to take you there but he has to be patient. Until you wake up and notice his presence.

Well… He wasn’t a patient man. Not after witnessing how easily can people die. If he wanted something, he had to have it right then. That was why he kidnapped you. You, his innocent little girl, so young and naive. It wasn’t hard to gain your trust, you loved everyone. He just waited until you were independent from your family and had your own life. New friends, new neighbors, new job… It all made you feel like you were in a dream. Everything was too perfect. Until one day you heard a loud noise in your house then everything went black. That was when he took you for himself. The first year was like hell. You were constantly trying to escape, breaking everything in the house and throwing fits. But could you really do anything to harm him? That mountain of a man? He could kill everyone who was in his way. And unfortunately the destination was you. It was almost pitiful that how desperate he was for you. He didn’t really hurt or hit you. Even when you tried to escape he just found you and brought you back to his house. In his words “Our home.”

“Maus.” he purred as his hand slide underneath your t-shirt caressing your waist. His lips inches away from yours aching to capture them. Your eyes opened slowly when you felt and heard him. “I’m home.” he mumbled as he brushed his lips against your cheek. When you finally processed what was going on you tried to move away immediately. “Let go of me!” you scowled and pushed him by his chest. He chuckled lightly and pulled you back to your position on his chest. “The harder you push me, the harder i will pull you back.” he whispered and kissed your cheek. “As much as i love your spirit, i’m tired, Maus.” his voice was giving away how tired he was. Yet there was more. You knew it. “What do you want from me?” you mumbled as you stopped squirming. Your heart was beating like crazy, you knew you had no chance against him. “I want you to love me. But i know it’s too much to ask. I don’t deserve you, meine Königin.” your heart ache for a moment. But then you remembered that he was your captor. Your heart filled with rage again. He smiled softly and caressed your waist. “But you know the other thing i want.” his hand squeezed your waist and his lips brushed against your chin. His lips kissing you wherever he could reach, but your lips.

He still haven’t kissed you since he kidnapped you. He would fuck you until you can’t remember your name but that was it. He told you the reason why he didn’t kissed you during a vulnerable moment of his. He was listening to your heartbeat after a nightmare and speaking to you even if you just caressed his hair and didn’t answered him. “I want to kiss you so bad, Maus. I really do. But i don’t want to ruin you. I’m just a pathetic man who is trying to make you love me. So, i want you to kiss me when you love me.” that was his sweet words before he eat you out. Ironic, isn’t it?

A soft sigh escaped from your lips when he kissed your neck and his hand down your body. “I want you to ride me. I want you to sit on my cock like it’s your throne, meine Königin.” he whispered as he grounded his hard on against your clothed cunt. You whimpered when you felt his hard cock against your stomach. He was away from home for a month and you haven’t since done anything for yourself. So you were already wet for him. “You should take care of your husband~” he purred. “You’re not my husband. You’re just a psycho.” you moaned as he kissed the sensitive skin of your neck. “I suggest you to choose your words wisely, Maus.” he mumbled and bit your shoulder as a warning. “And how could you deny me when you’re this wet f’me, hm?” he chuckled lightly after pushing his fingers into your panties making you shudder and moan. His fingers found your clit and started rubbing it slowly. Making you wetter and ready for him. Your head dropped to his shoulder and small moans escaped from your lips. He groaned when your hot breath hit his neck. His neck was the most sensitive spot on his body. Were you doing it on purpose? Knowing how he cum in his pants when you kissed him on the neck first time?

“Maus stop- i want to cum inside you.” he mumbled and with a quick maneuver you were sitting on top of his crotch. He groaned and his hips buck upwards to meet yours. The thin fabric of your underwears did nothing. He still felt how wet and warm you were. You also whined and rock your hips. You were so desperate for a release and he was the only thing in hand. Your attempts to satisfy yourself was failed because he made you addicted to his big and thick cock, your small fingers weren’t enough. One of your hands rested on his chest as you tugged down your underwear with other. “Scheiße, Maus.” his cock twitched in his boxers at the sight. He knew you wanted him as much as he do. And it made him go feral. But he managed to stay still and watched you. You were aching for his cock but it wouldn’t fit if you weren’t opened enough. Your gaze dropped to his hands on your waist. You took one of his hands and he raised an eyebrow with curiosity but he let you lead it whenever you wanted. You took his middle and ring finger inside your mouth and moaned. Your head spun from just thinking about having it inside your tight cunt. He felt like he was having a heart attack when you sucked and covered his thick and lengthy fingers with your salvia. He let you do all the work as you grounded against his clad cock and wet his fingers. When you took his fingers out of your mouth and gave him a desperate look, he knew what you wanted. So he stuck his fingers into your dripping hole making you whimper and buck your hips. “Just like that, Maus. Ride my fingers.” he fingered your little hole as his free hand supported you by your waist. “So verdammt süß.” he hissed and picked up the pace. His fingers effortlessly finding all the spots in your tight cunt. “You’re so tight, Maus. Did you wait for me like a good wife, hm?” he mumbled as he felt you were close and added another finger. You whined and your walls clenched around his thick fingers. You cum unannounced and he groaned when you cum with just his fingers. “König.” you whimpered and your hands grabbed his forearms when he pulled his fingers out. “I know it’s not enough meine Königin.” he cooed and lifted you up a little to free his precum leaking cock. He didn’t even had the patience to take off his boxers fully. He positioned you on his cock and let you take it in slowly, giving you time to adjust his size. He groaned when your walls sucked him in greedily. “Guess someone missed me.” he mumbled and caressed your hips while you sit on his cock. “Here. Right here is where you belong, Maus.” he grabbed you by hips and made you bounce on his cock. His head tipped back and he let out a low groan. He was living for this moment. When he’s on a mission he would count the days until he meet you again. His beautiful wife.

This position allowed him to be deep inside you and it made you even more desperate. Your moans and whines filled the room as he mercilessly bounced you up and down on his cock. The tip of his cock hit your cervix and you whimpered. “König it’s too deep.” you dug your nails into his forearms. He groaned and picked up the pace. It wasn’t like you were riding him anymore. He was slamming you down on his cock with his giant strength. “Slow down!” you whimpered when he hit your cervix again. “Admit that i’m your husband. Then i will consider.” he growled as he fucked you mercilessly. “Fuck-“ you cried when he didn’t even slow down a bit. “You’re my husband, König. Please.” you managed to say. “Braves Mädchen.” he purred and slowed down just a bit. “Say it again.” he slapped your hips and smirked delightfully. His big hand covered your hips as he slammed his hips into yours rapidly. You slurred that he was your husband over and over until he finally cum deep inside you. He rubbed your clit so you cum along with him.

You collapsed on his chest as he pulled out his cock. His semen dripped from your hole and you buried your head into his neck. You hated him so much for ruining your life but you were also desperate to have his love and affection. “Meine Königin.” he cooed and rubbed your back in small circles. “We’re not finished.” he kissed your forehead when you protested with a whine.

a/n: please support me by reblogging, if you liked the content ofc <3 your comments also makes my day :* and i try to reply all of them :>

also i post everyday -sometimes 2 posts in a day- so if you follow me i won’t disappoint ;)

i promise i will write the stalker x stalker after this lol

if you liked this story you’ll love this

[i-cant-sing]

Time Traveller AU part 10

Part 1 is here. Part 2 is here. Part 3 is here. Part 4 is here. Part 5 is here. Part 6 is here. Part 7 is here. Part 8 is here. Part 9 is here. Time Traveller au masterlist is here. Check out my MASTERLIST for more!

Part 11 is here!

You dont know why you're crying.

No.

You do know why you're crying. You dont understand why you're crying for that reason.

You've been sitting out on the balcony after Mehmed confessed to you, crying like a child who'd been yelled at by their favourite teacher- quietly and shamefully.

"Y/n?" You quickly wipe your tears away as you hear him.

Ibrahim tilts his head as he walks in front of you, his concern growing as he sees your teary eyes on your veiled face. "What's wrong? Are you hurt?"

You sniffle, shaking your head.

"Then?" He notices your mismatched niqaab, the red color reminding him of the torn shirt of Mehmed he saw earlier. "Did something happen with Mehmed?"

You freeze, then nod.

He takes a deep breath before sitting beside you, keeping a respectable distance between you two.

"I know you might be thinking that he's a prince so he wont get in trouble for what he did, but I'm the grand vizir and the sultan's closest friend." He looks at you. "I can help you if you tell me what he did to make you cry."

"I... I am not crying because of Mehmed." You pause. "Mehmed confessed his love for me."

"And you're overwhelmed? Or do you not want his love?" Ibrahim asked cautiously.

"Of course I dont want his love, its just- it reminded me of someone." You close your eyes and immediately those blue orbs flash to your mind. "Someone from... the past."

"Did you love him?" Your eyes snapped open.

"What?"

"This person you talk of... did you love him?" Ibrahim asked.

"I..." Did you? Did you really love him? Even after what he did to you, did you still love him?

"I used to." You sniffled. "You dont love him anymore? Then why are you crying?"

Yeah. Why am I crying if I dont love him anymore?

"I guess... I just miss him. And the memories we made, the way he made me feel." You whisper.

Ibrahim looked ahead at the dark sky, clear and filled with stars. "Go to him then."

You shake your head, frowning. "I cant." You wipe the tears from your eyes. "Pasha, how do I... how do I stop Mehmed? I cant, I cant be with him. In any capacity."

"I'm working on finding a way out for you, Y/n. I promised I'd keep you safe, didnt I?" Ibrahim's determined face put you at ease somewhat.

"Just tell me."

"In due time." He looked back at the sky. "The weather is nice tonight, not humid like yesterday."

You follow his gaze to the sky. "It rained earlier." You take a deep breath, trying to inhale the sweet earthy smell of rain.

There's a word for it. Petrichor.

You looked at the man beside you when you felt movement. Ibrahim had removed his turban and loosened the collar of his kaftan. He ran a hand through his thick hair with his eyes closed as a breeze of air passed, and you saw his shoulders relax.

The wind blew your niqaab as well, lifting it just long enough for you to smell the cool air.

"You should feel air as well." He said with his eyes closed. "It'll relax your mind."

He was referring to your veil and hijab. "You have the privilege to do that. Dont show off." You smiled.

He opened his eyes and stared at you. "I'm all relaxed now. You can enjoy the privilege now." He wore his turban back and fixed his collar. "Go ahead. I'll keep a look out." He stood up before smiling down at you with... warmth. Kindness.

"Enjoy these moments when you can, Y/n. They're rare."

You watched Ibrahim walk away and true to his word, he turned away from you and kept guard while you cautiously removed your niqaab first, and then loosened your headscarf.

You closed your eyes as the cool air hit you gently. You couldnt help the sigh that escaped you when you felt it on your neck, cooling it. And how long had it been since you felt the air breeze in your hair?

Too long.

After a few more moments in silence, you finally stood up after wearing your hijab and veil and turned to him.

Ibrahim turned around when he felt your presence behind him.

"Feeling better?" You nod. "Significantly. Thank you, pasha."

He gave you a courteous smile with a slight bow of his head.

Ibrahim escorted you back to your room and bid you good night before returning to the balcony.

He sat down on the same bench as the cold wind breezed, and he closed his eyes, your face haunting his mind.

When he opened his eyes, he saw the dark clouds in the sky. A few moments later, it began raining again.

Ibrahim raised his hands to make a prayer, after all- it is said in hadith that supplication made during rain is not rejected.

With sincere intention, he made a silent prayer in his heart.

"Oh Allah, make space in Y/n's heart for me.

I would like to reside eternally in my home country.

Amen."

-

The next two weeks went by... not uneventful. You tried your best to avoid the royals, but with Mihirmah bringing in Mehmed everytime you came to teach her, and Mustafa bringing you more broaches (which Mihirmah took from you everytime) because he thought they suited you (you're pretty sure this is his way of staking his claim on you, there's no way he doesnt know Mihirmah is the one taking them when she openly flaunts them in his face.)

Baris has been as annoying as ever, pestering you for gossip and to tell him "which prince you like more so that he can win the bets".

"So what exactly did you say when sehzade Mehmed said "I love you?" Baris asked as he looked through your closet.

You were looking out the window. "Thank you."

"Thank you? You said "thank you?" God, how dumb are you?" He shook his head while you smiled, looking outside but your mind was somewhere else, somewhere behind in time.

"I love you." He repeated, eyes still twinkling at how you continued to become flustered.

You opened your mouth and then closed it like an idiot, not knowing how to reply.

"Thank you." You finally said, looking anywhere but at him. He burst into a fit of laughter. "Oh god- I tell you- I love you and you say "thank you"? You really are something out of this world!" Baldwin teased you, making you huff.

"Y/n!" Your head whipped around the annoyed eunuch. "What?"

"We have to go to the harem." "Harem? Whatever for?"

"To make you learn a sensual dance for the princes- what do you think?! Its Friday! The sultan and sehzade have gone to the mosque for the Friday prayer- they'll be coming back soon and we have to welcome them." You scowled but followed him outside before halting.

"Both of the sehzade are gone?" Baris nodded.

Oh good. "Baris, you go ahead. I'll join you later." You turned around to leave but he grabbed your forearm.

"Absolutely not! Where are you going? What are you upto?" He gave you a pointed look.

You tried to pull your arm away. "Baris please-"

"No." He tightened his grip. "You might as well tell me because I'm not letting you go alone."

Your shoulders slumped.

"I have to find something." He raised a brow. "Do you remember that room where you found me and sehzade Mustafa? The one where his loot from his last conquest was present?" He nodded.

"Well, I need to go there again." "Why, exactly?" You resisted the urge to inhale as you told him your excuse.

"Because... I have to look for a present for Mustafa."

"What?" His grip on your arm loosened.

You shrugged. "You were right. I like Mustafa and if I plan on marrying him one day, I need to find something to impress him. So if I were to look at his loot, perhaps I'd be able to find what he likes."

Baris studied your face for a few moments before grinning. "I knew you were a just keeping this pious woman charade for personal gain." You frowned at his statement. "Fine. But I'm coming along."

"No, you dont need-"

"I wasnt asking." He began walking ahead of you. "Besides, the loot was moved from that room."

You followed behind him. "Moved where?"

The corner of his lips quirked up. "To sehzade Mustafa's room." He turned to look at your drained expression, and waved you off. "Its fine. I'm with you, arent I? The guards will let us pass through and everyone in the family is busy getting ready to welcome the sultan. No one will catch us."

True to his word, none of the guards or servants stopped you two from entering the Mustafa's wing of the palace. They all seemed to either respect Baris a lot to let you two breeze past them, or they feared him. And knowing Baris and his knowing eyes that probably have dirt on everyone, you knew the latter was true.

"Baris." You stopped him from following you inside Mustafa's room. "You stand here and keep watch. I'll go check."

"Keep watch? What are you- trying to steal his undergarments-" You slapped a hand on his mouth. "Do you ever shut up?" You snapped at his amused eyes. "Stand here and keep watch." You ordered before entering the room.

It was true that you did indeed need Baris to keep a look out for anyone walking in on you, as it has happened way too many times now, but you also needed him out of sight when you got rid of the stupid portrait.

Ah yes, your portrait that Baldwin had so lovingly commissioned and had managed to survive over 400 years and you needed to get rid of before it became a part of history permanently.

You looked around his large room, spotting a cloth covered pile in the corner. You marched to it and lifted the pile, recognising the loot. However, you didnt find your portrait in it.

Where is it?

You turned around to leave, only to freeze at the sight of the person standing there.

Mahidevran sultana.

All the other times you'd been caught, by Suleiman, by Mustafa- you always dropped your head into a courtesy. But now, with Mahidevran standing there with no expression on her face yet the daunting aura coming off her in waves- it had you frozen in spot.

You opened your mouth. Then closed it.

What do you say when you're caught red handed in a prince's chambers?

Mahidevran took a deep breath.

"Have you stolen it?"

You blinked.

"S-sultana?" Stolen what?

She raised an eyebrow, clasping her hands as she continued to put you under her sharp gaze.

"Have you stolen what you came for? What exactly were you looking for? Mustafa's gold? His jewels?" She tilted her head. "Dont try to deny that you didnt come here for nothing-"

"I did." Your throat went dry as her eyes narrowed. "I did come here for something. But I'm not stealing anything. I... am trying to earn it."

"And what exactly would be that?"

"Sehzade Mustafa's respect." God, where do I come up with such bull-

It was Mahidevran's turn to blink. Earn Mustafa's respect?

"I... dont know if I love the sehzade, but I do admire him. A lot. He has been very kind to me, very civil to me and... he's gifted me a lot. Not just with his expensive jewels, but also with his company. I just thought- I just wanted to return the favour. And I came here to learn more about him- to find out about his likes and dislikes."

At the end of your explanation, a small smile formed on Mahidevran lips.

"Then you should've just come to me." She walked upto you, her eyes much gentler than the hostility they held just moments ago. "Who would know him better than his own mother?"

You could only offer her a courteous smile and nod in agreement.

"Come now. I will teach you everything there is to know about Mustafa. I know him better than I know myself." She beckoned you to follow her, her heart beaming with pride at you finally making a real effort to pursue her son. Soon everything will fall into place, Mustafa will marry you and you'll give him his heirs and Suleiman will make him the next sultan and then finally, Mustafa will kill his brothers and Hurrem's reign will end.

As you walked out of his chambers, you saw Baris smirking and you knew instantly he didnt alert you about Mahidevran's arrival on purpose. He set you up. Just like Isabella, he will betray you every chance he gets.

But... where did the portrait go?

-

"Would you like to go out today?" Mustafa had decided to take you out of the palace, after Mahidevran told him to spend more time with you. He knew taking you out would make you happy, at least you dont seem to be so tense with him. With his father's permission, who was more than happy to accompany Mustafa to his province- Manisa for a few days. After all, you did deserve a short break from teaching his little sister.

And with Mehmet gone on a conquest, it was hard for Mihirmah alone to stop either of you from leaving and spending time together.

You happily agreed, at least this would give you more freedom to explore escape routes and fix your time machine?

Once again in disguises, Mustafa gave you a small tour of his province and you had to admit, he did a fantastic job managing Manisa all by himself. You definitely saw his administrative skills, how he improved the economy and even prepared the province for any future disasters.

After handling some official matters, Mustafa was surprised to see you waiting for him at the stables.

"Would you like to go hunting?" You asked, brushing the horses's mane.

Hunting? As a woman?

"You know how to hunt?"

"No."

"Then...?"

"I may not know how to hunt, but you do. So... shall we?" You asked patting the horse.

Mustafa helped you up on the horse. "Are you sure? Its not season yet, so it'll be hard to find any animals to hunt."

"Who said anything about animals?" You chuckle before galloping away.

It took him a few moments to shake out of the shock to understand your challenge. And then he mounted his horse and sped off after you.

Mustafa had never chased after anyone, much less a woman, but he had to admit- this was fun. And more than that, he was actually surprised at how good you were at riding. Your head leaned down into a straight line with your back, your calculated decisions when to stand and when to sit, you were far ahead of him. And he understood it wasnt your first time on a horse either.

Fortunately for you, you had both practical knowledge of physics and streamlining, as well as hours- DAYS of horseback riding from your time in Jerusalem. Just about four centuries ago?

However, Mustafa was still more skilled in horse riding and after finally catching upto you, he all but brought you to a halt when he blocked your path.

You both stared at each other, heaving and trying to catch your breath before breaking out into a laughter.

Thats how the two spent most of your time, riding and hunting small animals, Mustafa being in his element when he taught you archery, holding you close yet not uncomfortably, as he helped you aim bullseye. And somehow, you would soon hit the bullseye in his heart.

"And then, Qasim took the blame for me!" Mustafa laughed as you told him about your shenanigans from your childhood. You two were having dinner and after spending so much time together, making conversation had become so much easier.

"He took care of you, didnt he?" You nodded, smiling fondly at the mention of Qasim.

"As all elder brothers do, he was the best." Noticing the sadness in your eyes, Mustafa carefully asked you.

"So, you have no family left?" You shake your head. "No, they were all killed by some bad people. I only narrowly escaped them and found refuge with my grandparents before... before the Janissaries came and took me from them. And... here I am now."

Mustafa's heart wrench slightly. He knows the importance of family.

"I could take you to see them." He offered, but his expression turned puzzled when you turned him down.

"I appreciate that but... no. I cant meet them again, it'll be too much for them. The wound is still fresh, Mustafa. And if they were to see me again only to be taken away from them, accompanied by the Janissaries- they wouldnt recover. I wont hurt them again." You whispered the last part, looking off into the distance as you remembered the old couple who helped you.

"Maybe... maybe when we return home, we can go to the market again. Maybe I'll see them there, just from a distance?" Mustafa nodded at your request. How could he say no to such an innocent ask?

"How do you like Manisa?" Mustafa changed the subject.

You nodded in approval. "I had heard about how well you've done here, but when I saw the city... I must say I am very impressed, sehzade."

"You sound surprised. Did you not think I would be a good governor?" He teased as he poured you some tea. You chuckled.

"I am not surprised. I am proud." He froze. "It definitely takes a lot to run a province properly, especially when you have a lot of pressure on you, not just from the sultan but from the very people you're responsible for. And while you have managed the finances as well as put a stop to all revolts, crushed the rebels- all amazing feats, but what really stands out for me is that you've earned the love."

"Love?" "Mmhm. Its very easy to be in a position of power and make people fear you. But its much harder to have their love. And... I'm very pleased to tell you that I have not heard one word, not a single person who had anything except praises for sehzade Mustafa."

"I am very proud of you, Mustafa." You stated, your eyes smiling from your veil.

Mustafa felt as if time had stopped.

I am very proud of you, Mustafa.

Those words, that praise... isnt that what he's yearned for all his life? Sure, Mahidevran may have said those words to him many times, but she's his mother. She always sings his praises.

I am very proud of you, Mustafa.

His father has never said it to him, but he's heard Suleiman say it to Mehmed.

With his younger brother, Mehmed, Mustafa understands that Suleiman may love him just a bit more than him. Truly, Mustafa loves Mehmed too. Its natural for him to feel affection for his younger brother.

But... doesnt he deserve to be praised by his father too? Doesnt he have the right to get a pat on his shoulder for a job well done? Or is it just "his duty as a prince" everytime he works hard? Or is it that no matter what he does, how well he does it, he'll never earn Suleiman's priority over Mehmed because his father loves Hurrem more than Mahidevran? Because of his mother? Still, she is his first wife. And still, he is Suleiman's first born. Doesnt he ever deserve to even delude himself that he has a chance at being the next sultan? At being chosen?

"Mustafa?" Your soft voice breaks him out of his trance.

"Sorry, you were saying?" He tried to smile, his mind still plagued by his previous thoughts.

You point at the box you had place in front of him. "I got you a small present, for all the times I um- lost your brooches." You coughed and he chuckled, shaking his head.

"I know Mihirmah was the one taking them from you. You dont have to lie to me, Y/n." Amusement twinkled in his eyes as he picked up your box.

You smiled sheepishly. Hey, you're glad that he isnt mad at you for that spoilt brat stealing his gifts off you.

Upon opening the box, Mustafa's grin widened as a small chuckle escaped him.

Its a small crocheted rose, a pin dangling for him to attach it to his collar.

"I know its useless next to your precious jewelled brooches and even though your mom was more than happy to give me some jewels, I wanted to give you something different. You dont have to wear it-"

"Will you place it on me?" Mustafa cut you off. You nodded as you moved closer to him and took the rose from him. "Where should I put it? Turban? Collar? Chest?"

"Wherever it'll be the most prominent." He smiled gently. You leaned closer as you carefully pinned the rose to his chest.

Mustafa held his breath as he stared at your focused eyes, and he doesnt remember the last time he was so attentive to studying someones eyes. He never realised how long your lashes were, or the crease in your eyelid, or the different shades in your eye, or the way his heart skipped a beat when you looked up at him, or the way his heart warmed when your pupils dilated and he was ready to give you the world if you asked for it.

"Perfect." He whispered as you finished placing the rose on him, but his eyes never left yours.

He finally broke out of the trance when you moved away, averting your eyes and he figured he must've been too obvious.

"Thank you." He cleared his throat before looking down at his rose. "How did you learn to... embroidery?" He changed the subject once more.

"This isnt embroidery. Its crochet." You explain to him that you learned it from your mother, which is true. Your mother, who despite having a degree in STEM, had to work as a seamstress when she moved back to your hometown to make ends meet. Only thing you left out was that your mother hated crocheting, and she only did it when she was mad, so anytime you spotted a crocheted sweater or scarf or anything, you knew your mom was having a bad day. It was ironic at how something so cute could come out of such a negative emotion, but perhaps thats what she was trying to teach you. She wanted you to channel out your negative energy into something beautiful and to be honest, crocheting did relax you because of how long it took and how repetitive it was. By the time you were done crocheting, you had processed your emotions and kept yourself in check AND now had an adorable, soft product to play with.

(Deep down you knew she was worried from how many times you had decided to use your brain to come up with elaborate pranks to get back at people. So, as mom would say- "crochet your anger away, Y/n.")

Mustafa smiled at your memories.

"I would like to give you something as well, Y/n. Ask for anything." You tried to refuse but upon his insistence, you finally sighed exaggeratively, as if this wasnt exactly what you wanted.

"Do you remember that portrait? The one in your loot when we first met?"

Mustafa nodded. "I do. But unfortunately, I had given it away to a Roman diplomat as goodwill." He watched your shoulders drop.

"Ask me for something else." He offered again but you waved him off, saying you dont want anything else at the moment.

By the time you two left Manisa, Mustafa had decided that he was going to marry you.

He likes you, he doesnt know if you love him but he does know for sure that you respect. And he respects you.

Respect. Isnt it more important than love? Not all relationships, not all marriages are out of love, Mustafa knows that. But any good marriage can only work if both parties respect each other, if they trust each other.

His father loves Mahidevran, some part of him still does love her despite marrying Hurrem. And he's sure that a small part of him loved every concubine his father slept with, but... not everyone had his respect.

No, Suleiman only loved AND respected Hurrem. He loved Mahidevran, but he didnt respect her. If he did, he wouldnt have humiliated her by marrying Hurrem, a slave, He wouldnt have humiliated her by having five kids with the same woman while neglecting his mother. He wouldnt have humiliated Mustafa by favouring Mehmed over him at every chance.

Mustafa doesnt have Suleiman's respect.

But he has yours. And his mother's. And of the people of Manisa. And that is enough for him.

Thumbing the crocheted rose, he could only hope you dont mind that he lied to you about the portrait. Its in his chambers, here in Manisa. For him to stare at, to clear his mind as he peered into those eyes above the paint smudges, that looked eerily similar to yours.

-

On returning to Constantinople (present day known as Istanbul), Mustafa had allowed you two first stop at the market as per your request of buying some souvenirs for the family, but he knew that was just an excuse for you to see your grandfather.

He watched you spot the old man in the market as you stood by the blacksmith, buying a dagger for Mihirmah despite your eyes being trained on the sad man who was busy buying vegetables. You two were still in disguises, with the guards undercover as well, when there was a commotion.

Your grandfather was being harassed by the same merchant who had given him money and Mustafa would like to think that he interfered because it was his duty as a Muslim and as a sehzade to stop evil, but deep down, he knows he only stepped in to impress you.

Mustafa and a couple of the Janissaries, all disguised as civilians, walked upto the merchant and pushed him off the old man. Before the merchant could start heckling, Mustafa threw a pouch of gold coins and told him that the debt is paid. Period.

He didnt have to say out loud the outcome if he bothered your old man again.

By the time Mustafa returned by your side, standing tall as you looked at him gratefully.

I am proud of you, Mustafa.

"Thank you." You tell him, and Mustafa's heart soars at your validation.

You respect him.

Mustafa looked to the side, the tip of his ears turning pink. "Did you get a present for Mihirmah?"

You nodded, showing him the dagger you bought (with the money Suleiman had been paying you for teaching). He approved it, and you two returned to Topkapi palace, not knowing about the shit storm that was about to come.

-

Mehmet watched from the balcony as you returned to the palace with Mustafa beside you, laughing openly as his elder brother looked at you in a way that he never wanted anyone besides him to look at you.

Mustafa would've liked to walked you to your room but after he was called by his mother, you assured him you'll make it to your room just fine.

What you werent expecting was to find Mehmed standing in the hallway, waiting for you to be alone. He wasnt supposed to return so early from his province, but after Mihirmah wrote to him about you fleeing away with Mustafa to Manisa, he wrapped up his work there and came home straight away. He thought he made it clear what his intentions were with you, but it seems like sweet talking didnt make a dent on you.

"Sehzade-" You stopped your greeting when you saw him march towards you, and you involuntarily took a step back. His body language was not friendly at the moment.

"What were you doing with Mustafa?" He seethed, his arms behind his back as if holding himself back from lashing out.

"I- I went out to get a present for Mihirmah-" You began showing him the dagger but he cut you off.

"Why?"

"Why?" You didnt understand his question. "Why what? I was away in Manisa-"

"Why?"

You frowned this time. What was he asking?

"Because sehzade Mustafa invited me-"

"Why?"

You couldnt help but glare at him annoyed. Why what?

"Because I wanted to get out of the palace-"

"Why?"

"What do you want me to say?" You finally asked. Mehmet glare intensified at your question. "You're clearly accusing me of something, so say it."

"Why did you leave the palace?"

"I told you, I went to Manisa on sehzade's invitation." You paused, trying to piece together the reason for his behaviour. Jealousy? "I couldnt have turned sehzade Mustafa's invitation, it wouldve been rude-"

"This isnt about Mustafa!" He snapped. "You shouldnt have left the palace in the first place!"

"And why not? I'm not a slave who is bound to these walls." You reminded him gently, but his patience seemed to have worn thin.

"And neither is my mother, nor Mihirmah but they still stay here, only leaving when the sultan takes them along."

You looked at him in confusion. What was he getting at?

Mehmed seemed to get even more angry at your bewilderment. "There's a reason women stay in their homes. Its not safe for them out there."

"I appreciate your concern, but I doubt anyone would want to hurt me. I am not a princess or a part of royalty. My status is far too low for anyone to even bat an eye my way-"

He laughed humourlessly. "Status? You think I'm talking about protecting you from enemies of the empire?" Mehmed neared you as you took another step back. "You're in danger from the world. You're in danger from those very men that see you everytime you walk out of these palace walls. You're a walking temptation for these men and their disgusting, vile thoughts."

You blinked at him. Is he- did he just say you tempt men?

"How can I tempt men when I'm covered from head to toe?" You point at your niqaab and your chaddar.

"YOU'RE A WOMAN! THAT ALONE IS TEMPTATION ENOUGH FOR LINGERING EYES!" He yelled as an angry vein pops up in his temple. "It doesnt matter that not an inch of your skin is visible, but the moment these men know that you're a woman, you're meat for them. You attract their attention when you leave the palace walls, you attract their eyes when they see your feminine shadow, you attract their ears when they hear your soft voice, you attract their nose when you pass by them with your sweet scent. Even if they cant see your face, your existence alone is enough to plague their minds!" He points at your niqaab. "This veil that you seem so proud of? That you think protects you from male gaze? It only makes men to want to rip it off you more!"

You're staring at him in utter disbelief. Aint no way- no way this man is accusing you of tempting men, all while insulting your niqaab.

"I dont know what men you're talking about, but you're wrong if you think I'm using my veil, my covered body to invite men to stare at me." Your tone barely suppresses your anger. "I am surprised to hear you say such things. How can you pass such comments when your own mother and sister are-"

"I can pass such comments because my mother and sister stay within the damn palace! They dont go around sauntering like you, provoking men!" He yelled, his arms no longer behind his back, hands balled up into fists.

"Do you hear yourself? You're not making any sense-"

"I AM THE NEXT SULTAN! I AM UNDER NO OBLIGATION TO MAKE SENSE TO YOU!" He spat.

"How can I provoke men when my face is covered?!" You snapped back, reaching your wits.

Hearing your voice get loud, Mehmed's fury reached new levels as he backed you upto the wall, your eyes wide as he closed the distance between you. "You think you're safe?" He whispered harshly, his eyes boring holes into you. His hand reached up and grabbed your niqaab, threatening to yank it off you. "You think this piece of cloth can protect you? What can you- what can you possibly do if I were to rip this off you? Do you think you can stop me from making your worst nightmares come to life?"

Mehmed did not relish the fear in your eyes, nor did he enjoy the tear that escaped them. But like a child who needs admonishing to keep them from harms way, he found it necessary to reprimand you.

"Dont leave the palace again, Y/n." He said, his tone softening but still stern. "I dont want anyone, man or woman to see you. I dont trust anyone around you. Understand?" He patted your cheek to make you nod, and he finally backed away and left you alone in the hall.

Well, you're never truly alone in the palace. Especially when you have enemies. And who is your enemy, Y/n?

Everyone who is envious.

-

Word of your heated moment reached Mahidevran through the servants whispers, about how close you and Mehmed were, how he had pushed you upto the wall, a raunchy scene for anyone to walk in on, how Mehmed had lifted up your veil and traced your skin.

And of course, Mahidevran is inclined to believe these spicy rumors. She's experienced first hand what power hungry women can do when they put their mind to it. And her blood boils at how you're playing both princes, as if Mehmed could ever compete with her precious Mustafa!

Mahidevran all but screams at the maids to bring you to her, her hands shaking at the thought of you cheating on Mustafa- that too just moments earlier Mustafa was telling her how much he liked you and was ready to marry you.

You. You're ruining the plan. The plan to have Mustafa become the next sultan. Because- because you've been put to it by Hurrem, havent you? Isnt that why you're trying to make her son go after you while you pursue Mehmed? You want Mustafa to lose- you want Mahidevran to lose!

When you enter her chambers, Mahidevran all but sees red at the sight of you. You'r thrown to the ground and it doesnt register at first the hard smack she delivered to your face. But as soon as you look up at her, she lunges at you and continues to slap you over and over again, hurling curses at you, calling you all sorts of derogatory names, all while you try to save your face from her assaults because even if you could fight back, you couldnt hurt a sultan's wife.

"HOW CAN YOU CHEAT ON MY MUSTAFA?! MY LION! YOU FUCKING WHORE-!" She shrieked as she continued to slap you, her nails embedding into your skin and scratching it. Your face had gone numb from her slaps, and you couldnt verbalise a response even if you tried, her hands cutting you off everytime you tried to speak, leaving you to just cry and scream.

The guards and servants heard both your cries and Mahidevrans screams, but they didnt dare interfere. How could they? The sultana could easily have their heads chopped off for interrupting her punishment.

Mahidevran's own hands had gone numb from her thrashing, but her anger overtook any sense of self preservation as she continued to beat you to a pulp. Neither of you knows how long it had been until she was pulled off you.

"Mahidevran!" You watched bleary eyed as a red head came into the view. "Have you lost your mind?!" She admonished the queen.

Hurrem turned to look at you, grimacing at your bloodied face.

"Baris." She nodded at him to help you.

Baris immediately picked you up in his arms and carried you out of there.

You watched through tired eyes at Baris's concerned face as he looked down at you.

"Shit- sorry for taking so long to save you." He whispered, watching you slip in and out of consciousness.

You dont remember how, but the next moment you opened your eyes, you were in Hurrem's chambers with Baris tending to your wounds and Hurrem sitting on the ottoman watching you with a steady gaze.

You wince as Baris placed ointment on your busted lip.

"Careful, Baris." Hurrem warned, standing up and walking upto you. "She looks worse enough as it is. We dont need her falling unconscious in front of the sultan because you treated her injuries too harshly. He'll have your head chopped off." She joked though neither you nor Baris laughed; after all her words did hold some truth.

Wait- sultan?

"S-sultan?" You croaked, and Baris quickly helped you drink some water. "Why- why is the sultan coming?"

Hurrem looked at you in confusion. "Why? So that Suleiman could see what Mahideravn did to you and finally get rid of her. After all, Suleiman did warn anyone to not harm you. So, we can finally get rid of that thorn for once and for all." She sighed dreamily before looking at you. "All you have to do is cry in front of him and tell him how cruel Mahidevran is-"

"N-no." Baris's hand that was tending to you scratched cheek halted at your interruption.

"Excuse me?" Hurrem's sharp tone sent shivers down your spine.

"No. I wont say Mahidevran did this to me." In actual history, Mahidevran despite being exiled, outlives Suleiman, Hurrem and all their children. If you were to confess to what Mahidevran did, it would run the risk of Suleiman punishing her to the dungeons or worse, either way putting her life at risk and ruining the timeline.

"But she did do this to you." Hurrem stated, frowning at your attempt at denial. Or was it defense? "Ah, is it because you love Mustafa? You dont want to put his mother in trouble?"

"No. Mahidevran may have hurt me, but sehzade Mehmed was the reason. Your son did this and if you force me to confess, then that is what I will say- Mehmed did this to me." You replied, voice unwavering despite your heart beating loudly against your chest.

"Are you threatening me?" Hurrem glared at your audacity. Baris could sense the impending doom, and he feared you were at the receiving end of it this time.

"No." You swallowed. "I am merely stating at how this will play out. I suggest you dont have the sultan come and see me, better yet- throw me out of this palace altogether."

Hurrem stared at your bruised face and then she saw the determination in your eyes. She shot a look to Baris that had him scurrying you out of the room to give you two privacy.

"Even if you dont rat out Mahidevran, I can."

"You could. And then I will tell the sultan that it didnt happen, and you'll end up looking like a jealous second wife pinning the blame on the first wife." You tell her, watching as her face turned red with fury. "You could always let me go."

"Let you go? Why should I help you leave? And dont try to use Mehmed's behaviour with you as an excuse."

"Behaviour? He ordered me that I dont leave the palace walls ever because he thinks that I seem to invite men to leer at me." You tattled on him. "It may seem hard to believe sultana, but I dont wish to marry any of the princes, nor do I wish to stay within this palace. You know that the only reason I'm still here is because I couldnt say no to the sultan. But if you were to help me escape-"

You were silenced as Mahidevran burst through the door, her eyes zeroing in on Hurrem standing next to you.

"You-! You set me up! Both of you!" She shrieked as she stomped over to you two but Baris walked in with Mustafa, Mehmed and Mihirmah, all looking at the state of your injured face. They all stared at you, but it was Mehmed's eyes that pricked you and you quickly grabbed your veil, tying it around your face to cover it.

Mihirmah rushed to your side, grabbing you by the shoulders. "Y/n! Who did this to you?!"

You didnt bother looking at Hurrem or Mahidevran when you replied.

"I dont know."

Mihirmah's brows knitted together. "You... dont know? It was a blind attack? Did you not see who was attacking you? Or did you just not recognise the attacker?"

You took a deep breath.

"I dont know."

Mehmed stepped forward, eyes narrowing at your answer. "What do you mean-"

He stopped talking when the doors opened again and in walked Suleiman and Ibrahim, the sultan's eyes scanning the room before falling on you.

You had stood up to bow to him and you kept your head down for as long as you could to not draw attention.

But Mihirmah had other plans in mind.

"Dad! Y/n was attacked again! So much worse this time!" She cried, clinging onto your shoulder.

Suleiman's concern grew as he looked you up and down, reading your body language: head down, shoulders tense, hands fumbling.

You were afraid.

"Y/n?" He gently called your name as you hesitantly looked up. Its hard enough to lie to sultan, but lying when you look him dead in the eyes is a whole another thing.

"Show me." He commanded, and you had no choice but to comply, as your slowly removed your veil.

Suleiman's eyes widened at the state of your face- bruised, bloodied and swollen. He walked closer, eyes watching you in disbelief. Who could have done this to you, that too in his palace?

"Who did this to you?"

You averted your eyes, lest they betrayed you. "I- I dont know."

"You didnt see them?" Suleiman was as confused as Mihirmah. "Did they attack you from behind? No- they scarred your face, they attacked you from the front. You should've seen them. Did you recognise them?"

You kept your head down. Shit. What are you supposed to say now?

"Y/n?" You looked up at him. Suleiman saw fear. "Dont be scared. Tell me- who did this to you?"

You swallowed thickly. "I dont know."

"Did you see their face?"

"I- yes." There was no point in lying about it when he already presented logic.

"Then? Who was it?"

"I dont know- I dont remember." You whispered.

Mustafa was trying to make sense of your statement when he glanced at his mother. Mahidevran was shifting on her feet nervously, clasping her hands tightly as she glared at you.

No. No, she couldnt have.

Suleiman's gaze hardened at your words. Who were you protecting? Or did you really not recognise who it was?

"Ibrahim." The vizir stepped forward. "Find out who did this to Y/n." Suleiman ordered as he stood up, turning around to leave when his eyes fell on Mahidevran, who was looking at him with a tight lipped smile.

"Are you alright, Mahidevran?" He asked his first wife, who nodded eagerly.

"Y-yes. Of course, my sultan! I'm just- I'm just worried for Y/n." Suleiman studied her for a few more moments before he turned his attention to Hurrem.

"You did right by informing me about this, Hurrem." He praised his second wife, giving her shoulders a gentle squeeze. "I trust you to take care of Y/n, hm?"

Hurrem bowed her head and feigned a smile. "Of course, Suleiman." However, the sultan spotted her smile faltering and for a second, he saw her glancing at Mahidevran before averting her gaze.

Something was wrong. Suleiman's sixth sense was keeping him unsettled.

He looked at Mahidevran again, this time more closely as he studied her from top to bottom and thats when he saw it-

Her hands hiding under her sleeves.

Suleiman walked to Mahidevran and before anyone could react, he grabbed her hands and pulled.

Mahidevran's knuckles were bruised, her nails stained with your blood, her palms red.

"You did this to her?" He asked in disbelief. His Mahidevran? He knew she was a little unhinged at times, lost control of her emotions but... was she really capable of such violence?

"Suleiman I- she-"

"You're not denying." His grip tightened around her hands. "Mahidevran, have you lost your mind?!"

"Suleiman-"

"SILENCE!" He pushed her away, eyes blown wide in rage. Mahidevran trembled at the sight. "Have you completely lost it?! Why would you do this to her?! She's just a child! What is wrong with you?!"

Mahidevran fell to her knees, begging him for forgiveness. "Suleiman, I'm sorry-"

"Sorry? You're sorry?! LOOK AT HER! LOOK AT WHAT YOU'VE DONE TO HER!" He pointed at your face. "Why did you do this? What could she have possibly done to you to deserve this?"

"Suleiman, I only-" She stopped. What reason could she give? She cant tell him about you cheating on Mustafa with Mehmed, nor would it do her any good to pin the blame on Hurrem now. It would only weaken her position and cause Mustafa trouble.

Mustafa. She has to do this for him, to save his throne.

She mustered up all her courage, casting her ego aside as she looked at you.

"I'm sorry, Y/n."

Your heart dropped. No. Mahidevran just admitted to her crime. Suleiman will punish her. She will die- no, no no-

"Its okay, sultana. It was an accident." Everyone was looking at you now.

"An accident?" Mihirmah asked.

You nodded. "I- I entered her chambers while she was asleep. I startled the sultana, she thought I was an intruder- that I came to attack her. The room was dark- she couldnt have recognised me- it was all an accident."

Everyone knew it was big fat lie, but then again, no one was willing to refute your claims. On what grounds? With no proof, they were all inclined to take your word, even if they didnt believe it.

Suleiman looked back at Mahidevran. "You still didnt have any right to beat her that badly. You've truly lost it, Mahidevran. If you werent Mustafa's mother, I would've-" He took a breath to calm himself down. "You cant stay here anymore. I exile you to Manisa." And with that Suleiman walked out of the room.

-

Mustafa had left your room to see off his mother. He came to you after to thank you for trying to cover for Mahidevran, despite his father still banishing her.

Then again, exile was the least painful punishment for what she did to you.

He held his mother's hands as the servants packed her belongings. He wanted to go to Manisa with her, but she refused to let him accompany her.

"You must stay here, Mustafa." She cupped his cheek. "You need to protect Y/n. All this time, I thought she was cheating on you but Hurrem set her and me up. She wanted this to happen, for me to hurt Y/n! You must stay here and protect Y/n from Hurrem and Mehmed. Do you understand?" Mahidevran's habit of blaming everyone but herself for her actions prevailed over logic as usual.

He nodded, kissing the palm of her hand. "The next time we meet, I will bring her to you as my wife."

A bright smile graced her face as she quickly took off her own ring and gave it to him.

"I will pray for you, my lion." She kissed his forehead. Mustafa smiled, pulling her in for a hug.

"Dont worry about Mehmed, hm? He wont be a hurdle." She whispered to him.

Mustafa didnt understand what she meant about Mehmed, his own mind occupied by you. He saw how angry his father was when it came to you, almost as protective as he was of Mihirmah, how quick he was to have his mother- a queen on her knees, for you. He knew his dad never respected Mahidevran, but his actions were also ruled over by his concern for you.

Mustafa now understands how dire the situation is. He now understands why his mother wanted him to marry you. You- you are the key to having the throne, the key to ruling the empire, the key to everything.

-

While Hurrem was busy "calming" Suleiman down, which in fact was really just her getting praised for being a good wife, queen and most importantly now- "a mother figure to Y/n", for how quickly she took action and saved you from Mahidevran, how she tended to your wounds and brought you to her chambers rather than "risking Mahidevran attacking you by leaving you in the infirmary", her eldest was in your room.

Baris had just helped you sit on the sofa and was tending to your wounds when Mehmed, the sehzade who had just moments ago seen Mustafa leave your room, had his blood boiling at the sight of your face uncovered as Baris applied healing balms to your wounds.

"Get out." He ordered Baris, who looked at you before leaving the room.

Mehmed sat down beside you, picking up the healing balm and was about to apply it to your skin when you turned your face away.

"I can do it myself, sehzade-"

"Mehmed." He corrected you before turning your face to him harshly. "If you can do it yourself, then why let Baris do it? Do you enjoy his touch?" His tone was accusatory and full of jealousy, and you were getting real tired of it.

"I'm sorry, I was far too disoriented to notice it was a man who was tending to my wounds." Your sarcasm made his eyes narrow at you, as he continued to apply the ointment.

"Baris is not a man, he's a eunuch." And yet he's jealous of him. "And its not about a man touching you, i dont want anyone touching my wife-to-be."

"I dont remember agreeing to a proposal-"

"Then let me refresh your memory." He cut you off. "When I said "I love you", I meant we were to be married. As for a proposal, there never was one and there never will be one because I am a sehzade, and the next sultan. You dont get to say no to me. Do I make myself clear?"

If you had the means to get out of this era, you would've slapped the egoistical, chauvinistic, toxic man in front of you.

"Yes." You replied.

Mehmed stood up, but before he left, he looked at your veil.

"If you have to remove your veil to let your injuries heal, you better make sure you're alone."

Asshole.

-

A few weeks later, you were once again standing in the harem with the rest of the royals. Today, the sultan had to leave to go on a conquest. Ibrahim was also leaving, which unnerved you because you dont want to stay in a place without the only sane person who had your back.

Sure, Baris saved you but you knew better than to trust that piece of shit because his loyalty could be easily bought. Just like how you knew Hurrem did indeed was paying him to follow you, let you get beat up, and then fetch her to be your "saviour". And you knew that the only reason Baris would help you ever again, was because he had his own agenda on being your personal servant if you were to marry one of the princes.

Suleiman and Ibrahim entered the harem, ready to receive farewell from his family.

Hurrem was the first in line, kissing his hand and then him, before Suleiman pulled her in his embrace.

"I trust you to take care of the palace in my absence." He said to her, patting her cheek affectionately.

"Of course. I pray for your victory, Suleiman. May Allah sharpen your sword and defeat the enemy." She wished him well.

Suleiman then went down the queue, hugging his sons, daughters, favourite women of the harem, and then you.

"You will be safe here, Y/n." He watched you kiss his ring before bringing his hand to your forehead. With your head bowed, he kissed your the top of your head. "When I return, I have something important I'd like to discuss with you."

Your heart dropped. Discuss something important? Like what?

"Your marriage to his son, girl!" You heard Baris's voice in the back of your head.

Ibrahim only hugged Suleiman's sons, the royal women offering him words of support and prayers. When he reached you, you gave him a quick courtesy and a small prayer, but your eyes- they screamed for help.

Ibrahim! Dont leave me!

And Ibrahim got your message, but with everyone watching, he could do nothing but nod and move on.

As soon Suleiman left with his troops, you quickly made your way to return to your chambers to hide away until they returned. After your incident with Mahidevran, you had taken some precautions from being mauled again because really- who can you trust around here?

Mihirmah would come to your room to get her lessons, which now with her father gone, you doubt she will come to get them. Fine by you really, she's still a brat who finds glee in flipping you over your back.

Mehmed was much harder to avoid, he insisted on having lunch with you (because Hurrem wanted all her kids together with her at dinner). And these lunches were quiet stiff, because Mehmed may not be threatening you or showing off his jealousy, you still havent forgotten his remarks and you didnt really talk besides giving him curt replies, which he doesnt notice because his head is so far up his-

Mustafa was the normal one among them, and while he did offer you to take you out to the market or even the gardens, you didnt. Not because you were scared of Mehmed finding out, no. It was because- well, what happened to Mahidevran. Mustafa may have come to you and thanked you for trying to cover up for her, but no matter what way you see it- his mother was thrown out of the palace because of you.

And he has to hold some grudge against you for it. No matter how much he smiles, how many gifts he gives you, you just cannot risk him taking you the gardens or the market where there are no witnesses when "someone" ambushes you.

You've used most of your time holed up in your room with your time machine because the last time you went out with Mustafa to the market, you were able to get some tools and metals from the blacksmith while Mustafa was busy saving your "grandfather".

-

Its been 2 weeks since Suleiman left. Two weeks since you've been on high alert around this mad house, two weeks since you started losing sleep from all the stress and tension of being around Mehmed and Mustafa. Sure, Ibrahim gave you a entourage of maids and guards to keep you safe before he left, but how could that put you at ease when your entourage could fall with the flick of the wrist from these royals.

You've been able to repair your time machine as much as you could, but it still hasnt worked. You dont understand what you need to do, you've even tried smashing it against the ground like the last time you transported, but no. It didnt help.

You sat on the bench on the balcony, the same one when Ibrahim was here with you. You came here to get some fresh air, and you hoped Baris doesnt run into you because you just have it in you to hear him make a comment about the bags under your eyes.

The sky was filled with dark clouds again, the wind chilly and you smiled under your veil.

It was going to rain today.

Your mind flashed back to the last time you were here with Ibrahim. Just like now, you were worried and tense then. But he was there to calm you down, to put your mind to ease.

"You should feel air as well." He said with his eyes closed. "It'll relax your mind."

You closed your eyes as his voice came to mind.

"Enjoy these moments when you can, Y/n. They're rare."

You glanced behind you, at your entourage. The guards had their back to you, looking away from you and the maids. The maids all stood behind you, giving you space. They could see your stress.

A gentle breeze hit your face, and it was enough to push you.

You quietly removed your veil, setting it beside you before loosening up your headscarf.

A sigh escaped your lips as the gentle breeze cooled your neck, your tense shoulders dropping at the earthy scent of rain. You closed your eyes, trying to imagine yourself back in your time, back when you were a child, carefree and stress-free.

Home. I want to go home.

"Y/N!" Your respite was cut short by Mehmed's angry scream, who looked at you like he'd just witnessed the greatest crime you could ever commit: sitting unveiled, with part of your hair exposed along with your neck.

"What the hell are you doing?!" You quickly grabbed your niqaab and tied it around your head as you saw storm towards you, his guards following behind him.

"Mehmed- I-"

"You what?! You were sitting here EXPOSED! With the servants to watch!" He yelled at you, grabbing your arm painfully as he yanked you from your seat. "Didnt I explicitly tell you to fucking stay covered! Do you like putting on a show for-"

"ENOUGH!" Something in you snapped. "I wont have you accuse me over and over again! I was not putting on a show, Mehmed! I was just getting some air! Do I not deserve it?! As for putting on a show- the guards had their backs turned, they werent staring at me! Only the maids were behind me, and they too werent able to see my face! Now, let go!"

Mehmed's grip on your arm only tightened, and you almost yelped in pain if you werent so busy glaring at him. "Just because you think they didnt see you face, doesnt mean its alright for you to sit naked!" He yanked you closer as he bared his teeth at you. "I told you not to to ever remove your niqaab in front of others. You disobeyed me- my command! And now you will pay the price! As will they!" He yelled at his guards to arrest you entire entourage and throw them to the dungeons.

"Mehmed, stop-" "Shut up!" He yelled as he began dragging you away and towards his own room, throwing you inside.

He stalked towards you. "Since you seem to have no sense of preservation for your modesty, I suppose I will have to help you out as your husband-to-be. You will stay here until I return and if you try to escape, I swear to God, Y/n! I will fucking break your legs!"

You watched in horror as he left the room, locking it from outside and you dont doubt he had guards outside not to let anyone in or out.

I cant stay here any longer- I cant rely on Ibrahim any longer. Mehmed has fucking lost it, and I need to get out of here right now.

You fumble out your time machine, trying to turn it on to any time period really- you cant stay here anymore.

"Fuck!" You throw it against the wall, crying into your hands out of frustration. Why the fuck wont it work? A few moments later, you finally pick it up, pocketing it back in your clothes.

Hours passes by as you sat on the floor, crying at your demise, waiting for Mehmed to return and do whatever his insane self pleases.

The room had darkened, and you suspected it was night now. You look down and find the bracelet on your hand, the one Suleiman gave you and an idea popped in your head.

Bribery.

You knocked at the door.

"Hello? Whoever is out there- please- just open the door! I'll give you my jewels! Anything you need, I'm willing to pay!" You plead for a few minutes before slamming your hands against the wood, falling to your knees as you sobbed. "Please! I'm begging you! Help me-!" You stumbled back as the doors swung open.

"Well, if this is how quickly you resort to going on your knees, I have failed as a teacher." Baris grinned at you from above.

"B-baris?" You sniffled as he helped you stand up. "What are you-"

"I'm saving your ass. Duh." He pulled you out of the room, looking out both ways before taking the path on the left. You spot two guards lying on the ground.

"How did you-" You point at the them but he drags you along.

"I'm not just a pretty face, Y/n. You seriously underestimate me." He comments, his eyes scanning for anymore people. "Now we must make haste. Otherwise, your lover boy may take a break from the dungeons to torture us instead-" He stopped talking when he looked at you.

"Torture? Baris, what did Mehmed do to them?" Your entourage was thrown into the dungeons. Baris avoided your eyes. "Baris." You insisted.

"He's having their eyes stitched up for staring at you."

You face paled. Mehmed is insane. He's fucking insane. Baris took your hand and dragged your shellshocked body.

The two of you soon made it out of the palace undetected. 4 horses and 5 women waited for you two there. You recognised them- they were from the harem.

"Baris, what are you- why are they here?" You whispered harshly. If the palace finds out there are concubines missing, it'll only cause more trouble for you and him.

"Relax, they're here to help us." He waves at them, making them giggle before he looks back at you. "We will all get on the horses and take different paths to throw the Janissaries off long enough for you to escape."

"Escape to where?"

"Wherever you want to go. I would suggest going West and leaving the empire altogether, maybe go to the Romans. Keep a low profile and try not to seduce any more unhinged men." He pokes fun at you, despite the situation you're in.

You chuckle, tears of gratefulness in your eyes. "Thank you, Baris." You sniffle, taking off your bracelet. "Here. You can have this. Its the least I can do-"

"Girl, you need it more than I do." Baris pushes the bracelet back to you. "Besides, I've already been compensated generously."

"By who?" You ask and he gives you a knowing look. "Ibrahim?" He nods.

"He had been paying me since the moment you set foot in the palace to keep you safe. You think I just stuck around you because I like you so much?" You slapped his shoulder, making him laugh. "Okay, you werent all that bad. But wherever you go, I'm sure Ibrahim pasha will find you."

"And why is that?"

"Well, he was going to marry you." "What?" Baris looked at you confused. "You dont know? Ibrahim pasha talked to Sultan Suleiman about this. The sultan gave his blessing, but he wanted to ask for your consent as well. But then they went to war-"

So thats what Suleiman wanted to discuss with you.

"Anyways, Ibrahim pasha had given me permission to do whatever is necessary to keep you safe, even if it meant taking you out of the palace- or- well staging your kidnapping. When the time comes, Ibrahim pasha will find you and I will be long gone by then." Baris explained.

"You're willing to leave the palace behind? For me? I thought you liked it here." You were touched at his willingness to help you, even if he was taking money.

Baris shrugged, looking at Topkapi palace longingly. "I've had my fun here. Its time for me to go somewhere else. Have a fresh start, where I'm no longer a slave."

You smiled, nodding understandingly. "And them? Are they willing to risk it all for me as well?"

"Oh no. They're in love with me. And when they heard I was leaving, they decided to come along. Just cant get enough of me." You shot him a look. "We might start a brothel. You should come visit with Ibrahim pasha someday."

"Why the fuck would I go to a brothel-" He broke into laughter at your reaction.

"I'm just joking! But do visit me, hm?" He took your hand and pressed a kiss to it. He helped you up on the horse before mounting his with a girl behind him, the others mounting the other horses.

"Thank you, Baris. For everything." Baris gave you a nod. You suddenly heard yells from behind you.

"Time to go!" Baris yelled.

-

You were galloping through the woods, the same forrest where you had first landed here. It was raining dogs and cats, making it hard for you to see ahead of you and even harder for the horse to run through the wet ground.

Your mind wandered back to Ibrahim. All this time, you thought he'd abandoned you and yet he was the one who had your back.

Was he really going to marry you?

You doubt he would've. Or even if he did, the question was- would you have said yes?

Maybe. He is the sane one of the ottomans, and apparently the only one who is willing to help you. You're sure he wouldnt have done anything unbecoming of a man even if you married him. And why would you not marry him? It buys you time to work on your machine and get out of this era, AND it protects you from the royals, especially Mehmed.

Mehmed. Your heart wrenched at the thought of him punishing those poor servants. Did he really have their eyes stitched up? What would he have done to you on returning? More importantly, what would he have done if he caught you escaping.

"I'll break your fucking legs!"

You shuddered at his threat, leaning down to speed through the woods.

Maybe God finally cut you a break- how else could you explain all this? Baris being the one to break you out, despite you being sure he'd betray you the first chance he gets. Ibrahim pasha having your back all this time. You escaping the palace without the Janissaries or anyone hot on your tail. Maybe your time machine will finally work too. Maybe you'll finally make it out of here. Maybe you just lucked out-

You heard the clouds above you roar loudly and in the next moment, you heard yourself scream as you were blinded by a white flash, throwing you off your horse.

You laid on the ground, pain radiating throughout your body, vision blurry, palpitations in your ear as you tried to make sense of what had happened.

A lightening strike.

You were struck by lightening.

If you werent in so much pain, rapidly losing consciousness, you wouldve laughed at your fortune.

Lucked out?

More like out of luck.

-

Mustafa had walked in on Mehmed screaming and threatening to kill every servant, his sword bloody. Looking behind his younger brother, he spotted two headless guards.

"Mehmed?" He asked cautiously.

"She escaped! She fucking ran!" Mehmed yelled before he could ask what was wrong. He raised his sword to cut off yet another head, but Mustafa stopped him.

"Tell me what happened." Mustafa's strong voice had Mehmed reeling some of his anger back, explaining what had happened.

After listening to him, Mustafa sighed. "We'll find her, Mehmed. Calm down." He looked at his Janissaries and ordered them to close off the city, and the docks. No one leaves.

"She could've already left the city-"

"Its unlikely for her to have managed to do that, that too when its pouring heavily." Mustafa, the cool headed prince, began to think logically.

"Then where is she? The city is still too big! It'd be like finding needle in a haystack." Mehmed sneered, glaring at the servants.

Mustafa closed his eyes, trying to think of where you could possibly ran off to.

He snapped his eyes open. Of course, you'd be there.

"I know where she is." He stood up, Mehmed following behind him.

-

You woke up to someone wiping your cheek. It took a few moments for your vision to clear, your eyes looking around what seemed to be a cottage before landing on the person beside you.

Old lady.

It was the old lady. The one who saved you when you dropped at her doorstep when you entered this era.

"Oh dear, you're finally awake!" She smiled gently, continuing to wipe the mud off your cheek. "You're lucky my husband was out when he spotted you unconscious. You could've drowned in that rain, you know?" She said in a chiding town, as if you chose to lie down in the pouring rain.

The old man walked out of the kitchen with a cup of hot tea in his hands.

"Here you go, hun. Drink this." He handed you the cup before sitting beside his wife.

"Now, where've you been all this time?"

By the time you were finished telling them everything that happened to you, from being kidnapped by the Janissaries to be sold as a slave, to almost dying a few times in the palace, to being set up to marry one of the two princes, to being struck with lightening, the old lady was in tears as she pulled you into her embrace while the old man continued to yell a stream of curses at the Ottomans.

When you tried to leave, they stopped you- telling you its absolutely unsafe for you to go anywhere in this bad weather. And well, hearing the heavy rain and the fact that you were indeed struck by lightening, you couldnt really argue.

"Okay, just for tonight."

While you were having dinner, you were taken back to your memories- memories of your own family. Sure, you were surrounded by family at the palace as well, but they didnt feel like home. They didnt really care for you, not like this cute old couple does. And to be honest, you missed this feeling. From your time in Jerusalem, to your time in the palace, this is the first moment of normalcy you've had in a while.

You looked at them, smiling as they made silly jokes and ate food. They included you in their conversations, they fed you, they made sure you were comfortable when you slept in the guest room- or what you assumed was their daughter's room.

You didnt tell them, you couldnt but you did try finding out what happened to her. Baris told you what did.

Naima. That was their daughter's name.

Naima was brought to the palace by the Janissaries as a concubine, and only a few weeks in- she was chosen to sleep with the sultan.

She killed herself the next day. She had jumped off the roof, but she didnt die instantly. She died as Hurrem watched from her balcony, and she refused to alert anyone to help the poor woman.

You didnt want to take this last bit of hope from the couple- the hope that Naima may still be alive and will come home one day.

-

You were woken up to someone banging on the door.

"BY THE ORDER OF SEHZADE MUSTAFA! OPEN THE DOOR!" Someone yelled from outside. The old man sprung to his feet as he peered through the window.

Janissaries. A whole troop of them and in the very front, sitting on top of their horses were Mustafa and Mehmed.

"Get her out of here." The old man told his wife, who hurried you out of bed and was about to leave through the back door when she saw the Janissaries out there as well.

"Come on." She dragged you up the stairs to the roof, just as you heard the door being broken down and yelling.

Reaching the roof, you looked down only to see the cottage was surrounded by the guards.

"We're surrounded." You whispered. "There is no escape."

"There is." The old lady whispered back to you, ushering you towards the edge of the roof. "Jump."

You looked at her. "What?"

"I wont let them take you back there. Jump, Y/n." She pushed you towards the edge.

"No- I'm not jumping!" You tried to back away but she gripped your arm.

"You have to, Y/n! I wont let them- I wont let any man take advantage of you! I wont let them do to you what they did to my Naima!" She cried, pushing you towards the ledge again, but you resisted against her, causing you to fall onto the ground.

"I'm doing this to save you!" She cried again, straddling you as she wrapped her hands around your throat. "Why wont you understand-"

"STOP!" A voice yelled. You both looked to the side to find Mustafa and Mehmed, the latter holding the old man.

Mustafa raised a hand in surrender. "Let her go. And we wont hurt your husband."

The old lady looked conflicted, as she looked at Mustafa and then at Mehmed who held a sword at the old man's neck, ready to slice it.

"I- I-" She continued to hold your throat as you struggled to breathe.

For a brief moment, the couple made eye contact and the old man smiled at her reassuringly.

"Do it. Save Y/n." He told her, but before anyone could react, Mehmed sliced off the man's head, Mustafa looking at his younger brother in shock as the woman shrieked before she began choking you hard.

With lightening speed, Mustafa pulled her off you and pushed her to the side.

"Y/n? Are you okay?" He crouched beside you, checking on you as you took huge gulps of air before nodding. Mustafa sighed in relief as he helped you stand up, only to turn around to find Mehmed holding the woman over the edge.

"Mehmed, dont!" He yelled, but it was too late. Mehmed kicked her in the back and the old lady fell to the ground. Mustafa left your side to look over the edge, eyes wide as he saw the woman hadnt died. Blood sputtered out of her mouth as she stared up with eyes blown wide.

And then, a sword fell on her neck straight down, finally killing her.

He looked to his side only to find Mehmed looking down disinterested, as if he hadnt just brutally murdered an old woman.

His younger brother.

A monster.

He watched Mehmed whisper threats to you as he dragged you back outside, practically throwing you over his horse. Mustafa let him take you- he wasnt going to fight who gets to ride with you when they were all going home.

Except... not.

Mustafa's brows furrowed in confusion as he watched Mehmed and his Janissaries take a turn and go a completely different path then the one to the Topkapi palace.

Where was he taking you?

Mustafa sped after Mehmed, his troops following behind as he yelled at Mehmed to stop.

But he didnt, not until an abandoned palace came to view.

Mehmed got off his horse, pulling you down before nodding at his men to take you inside.

"What the hell are you doing?" Mustafa asked as he got off his own horse, marching towards you but Mehmed blocked his path.

"What I should've done in the first place- duel."

Mustafa looked at him in disbelief. Duel? "You want to fight me? Have you truly lost it?!"

Mehmed got up in his face. "I've seen the way you look at her. I am not going to stand for it any longer."

"Mehmed-"

"Only one of us can have her, Mustafa. This ends today." Mehmed pushed him as he drew his sword.

Mustafa lips settled into a thin line.

"Fine." He pulled out his sword. "May the better prince win."

-

"Let go of me!" You try pulling yourself free from the guards grasps, but they continue to haul you inside the abandoned castle.

"I said- let go-!"

"Oh good, you're finally here!"

Mihirmah stood in front of you with a grin.

"Mihirmah? What are you doing here?"

She raised a brow. "What am I doing here? I'm here to prepare you!"

"Prepare me?"

"Mmhm! For your wedding to Mehmed!"

"What?"

She shrugged, taking you by the arm as she pulled you inside a room. "Well, when I found out you had run away, I suggested to Mehmed that the only way to make sure you stay by his side is for him to marry you. And I knew my mom would've stopped him from doing that, so I suggested he bring you here! By the time dad returns, you'd already be married to Mehmed and dad will definitely choose him to be the next sultan! Its only a cherry on top that Mustafa came here as well, and when Mehmed kills him- dad will have no choice but to choose Mehmed as his heir!"

You watched in disbelief before trying to make a run for it, but she anticipated it, snapping her fingers for the guards to lock the doors.

"Now, I will send the maids inside to get you ready. I need to go check on the sheikh who has to marry you two off." She smiled before leaving you alone.

She could care less about the sheikh, right now- she wanted a seat upfront to the showdown! Mehmed was going to win and she needed to be there to witness it.

-

Mustafa dodged Mehmed's attack again. Despite agreeing to the duel earlier, Mustafa had been taking on the defensive. Mehmed was his younger brother, he was still family even if he incredibly insane.

He cant bring himself to hurt him-

"Why arent you fighting?" Mehmed growled as he swiped at him again. "Are you that afraid of dying? Fight me like a man!"

"I dont want to fight you at all." Mustafa jumped back as he striked again. "You're my brother-"

"Like hell we are! One way or another, I'm killing you Mustafa! Be it today, or tomorrow when I'm finally sultan, because you know your mother screwed up any chance you had to be chosen! She fucked up and now you will pay for it!" Mehmed yelled, finally hitting a nerve with Mustafa.

My mother. They dont respect her.

Mustafa raised his sword as he struck over and over again, Mehmed barely able to escape the blade as it sliced his skin many times.

My own brother wants to kill me. And if I die, then so will my mother,

Mehmed groaned as Mustafa suddenly sliced the skin on his arm, the younger prince rolling onto the ground to avoid getting his arm cut off clean. But Mustafa was faster, kicking him in the stomach as Mehmed dropped onto the ground in pain.

"I am the better son." Mustafa said with a kick to his stomach.

"I am the better ruler." Another kick.

"I am the better choice." Another kick.

"I am better than you. In every way." Mustafa raised his sword to drop it on Mehmed's neck, just as cruelly he had done to that old woman.

Mehmed raised his hand in surrender as he coughed up blood.

"Please, Mustafa- d-dont. I'm your brother!" Mehmed begged for his life.

And in that moment, Mustafa saw his younger brother, the small child he promised to always protect.

Mustafa closed his eyes, taking a deep breath before stepping away.

"I. Win." He stated, turning around to leave. He was the bigger man. Once again, his mercy overtook his- no his love for his brother overtook his logic. He knows Mehmed wont back down, he will fight with him again. But that will be for another day-

"M-Mustafa." He looked back at him, his heart dropping at the sight.

Mehmed was coughing up blood, his face looked pale- and then he puked.

Something was wrong. Very wrong.

And the moment his mouth started foaming, Mustafa remembered his mother's words.

"Dont worry about Mehmed, hm? He wont be a hurdle."

Mahidevran may have been exiled, but she still had a few people loyal to her. People who wanted Mustafa as the next sultan, not any of Hurrem's sons. People who more than willingly began microdosing Mehmed with poison.

-

You were trying to break a window to escape when the doors swung open. Mihirmah had returned, tears running down her cheeks.

"Mihirmah-" She hugged you before you could beg her to let you go.

"You look beautiful." She whispered as she pulled back, admiring the maid's work. "Mehmed always did adore the color red on you." She said in a trance.

"Mihirmah, please let me go." You plead and she gives you a broken smile.

"Thats what I came here to do." She whisperd, cupping your cheek. "I'm letting you go, Y/n. Mehmed's dead."

Oh. Thats why she's crying. But with Mehmed dead, you get to leave.

"I'm sorry to hear that." You said, watching her stumble back towards the door.

"I'm going to miss you, Y/n." She nodded, grabbing the fire torch off the wall. "Tell Mehmed I love him."

What?

Mihirmah dropped the torch onto the ground, setting the wooden floor ablaze instantly.

"Mihirmah-!" She left the room, closing the doors before you could make your escape.

"Mihirmah! Open the door!" You slammed your fists as the room began catching on fire.

Mihirmah locked the door from outside, wiping her tears away as she walked away.

You are Mehmed's bride. You belong to him, in life and now... in death.

Goodbye Mehmed. She closed her eyes. You wont be alone now.

She watched from the balcony as the Janissaries- her and Mehmed's troops, cornered Mustafa and pushed him to the ground like an animal for slaughter.

The guard looked at her.

She gave a nod.

The next moment, Mustafa's head was chopped off.

-

Fucking Mihirmah!

You slammed your fists against the door one last time before falling down to the ground, fire spreading around the room.

Fire. Why the fuck does it always have to be fire? Why is everyone so hell bent upon burning you to crisp? First in the desert with Salauddin, then those concubines in the harem, now this. If you didnt have a phobia before, you sure do have one now!

You pulled out your time machine hopelessly. Piece of crap wont even turn on-

Its on.

Your eyes widened at the screen illuminating.

Its working.

But how-

The lightning strike! It mustve charged it! That or maybe it could sense every single time you're near death and decides to fucking work.

"Oh fuck!" You curse as flames begin to close in on you. Now is not the time.

With trembling hands you try to change the date and location, but the screen is still broken and it wont budge.

You groan in frustration as you slam the button, your surrounding blurring as you begin to travel. Whatever time you land in, it'll be better than the one where you almost burn to death.

Right?

So, thoughts?? How did you like this chapter? What will happen next?

I also sorta blacked out a few times while editing this chapter, so ignore any mistakes.

PART 11 is here!

[fanfics-i-find-here]

Do I know you?

Jason Todd X Reader

Synopsis: In the aftermath of a brief Kidnapping, Red Hood seems to think your important and wont stop hanging around your apartment.

Or in other terms, Jason got scared you were gonna die and doesn’t want to leave you alone

Notes: Reader is a waitress at a local bookstore/coffee shop that Jason frequents and he has grown very fond of her. They are vague acquaintances And she does not know that Jason is Red Hood. This is literally my first-ever attempt at a fanfic and Jason Todd has been rattling around in my brain. I might attempt to make this like a short series or something. Anyway, I hope it's enjoyed!!

Part 2, Part 3, Part 4, Part 5

“I think I have a new favorite stalker,” you say loudly out your open window.

 Keeping your window open in Gotham was probably the worst idea you could ever have but your curiosity got the better of you when started to notice the fleeting red hanging out across the street and occasionally on your fire escape over the past two weeks. At first you were worried considering your recent encounter with Scarecrow as an attempted research rat.

However, the longer the red stayed near the easier it became to recognize. His helmet was shiny, which is what made it so easy to spot him. How that was helpful to a vigilante you didn’t know. Red hood was watching you and you had a feeling it was to make sure you were okay. You had heard of other bats checking on Civilians after traumatic incidents when they could, but every night for two weeks seems a bit excessive and he hasn’t actually talked to you. So what was he doing?

With no response to your jab, you lean out your window and repeat yourself, making a point to stare at the red helmet on the building across the street.

“I said I think I have a new favorite stalker!” You continue to stare him down.

Even in the minimal street lighting you can see his body tense, ready to run.

“Maybe he’d like to chat?” you tilt your head in questioning. You don’t why you asked. You were bad at keeping a regular conversation. If he came over and did, in fact, decide to chat, it might end up a short conversation. 

A clattered thud pulls you from your thoughts and you gaze turns from the opposite roof top to the very large man now standing on your fire escape next to your window. You can’t help but stare at him. 6” something and built like a brick wall. Intimidating even leaning against the building.

Was he this big when he saved me?

“Hi?” is the only response you could muster. The urge to slam the window closed and shut your curtains itches at your finger tips. He stares at you, or at least you assume as much, the helmets white eyes giving away nothing. No wonder people were terrified of Red Hood. You haven’t even done anything wrong and you could wet yourself  right here and now.

“Hi” You don’t know why your shocked to hear the modulated voice. He had talked to when he saved you from Scarecrow but it was still strange to hear. Slightly robotic but definitely a person underneath.

You realize that, maybe, you’ve been staring for too long.

“Tea?” you back away from the window and head for the kitchen expecting him to follow, as well as taking a moment to breath.

You just invited a good/bad vigilante into your home! What is wrong with you?  Your mind is a swirling, anxious debate as you fill your kettle.

“I only have Green tea, I hope you don’t mind.” you yell from the kitchen, unsure if he was even in the apartment.

“Not at all” His voice is close then you anticipated, assuming he stay close to the window.

Instead you turn to find him sitting comfortably at your dining room table, watching you move about the kitchen. He looks out of place in your soft warm toned home. His brown leather jacket the only thing that could blend in. The harsh red bat on his chest sticking out like a sore thumb. Your gaze lingers a moment at the holsters on his thighs, suddenly realizing that if he wanted to do something to you, you were screwed. You turn back to your cabinets and pull out a couple of mugs, pushing away the thoughts. Red Hood was good guy, despite what previous attempts at bad he had in the past. You stand at the counter and stare at your kettle, willing it to heat faster. After a moment, You hear a distorted sigh.

“You wanted to talk?” Red Hood asks

You shrug your shoulders without turning, not entirely prepared for a conversation just yet. Red Hood doesn’t push you. The kettle begins to whistle, and you pour the two mugs, settling tea bags into them. You pick them up and set one in front of red hood, and settle into the seat opposite his, blowing on your tea. You take a sip and promptly burn your tongue, hissing in pain.

“it’s hot”

Your eyes fly up to Red Hood. You choke out a thanks, Having not realized he had taken off his Helmet. You let eye linger across his face, very handsome. A scar on his lips, that rests in a smirk, and another across his cheek. As you eye move up you let out a startled laugh, Another mask keeps his eyes hidden.

“What?” He asks, The smirk on his lips grows.

As your laughing fit slows, you pause to breath.

“You wear two masks.” You pause waiting for him to laugh. All he does is furrow his brows.

“it’s funny” you insist but he doesn’t respond. You settle down again. Well as much as you can considering the man in front of you, staring at your mug, slightly embarrassed

“So I’m your favorite stalker? You got a few?” Red's voice rings out in the silence. It’s rough and deep, like he’d been yelling.

A flush creeps up your face. If you were embarrassed before, you were definitely embarrassed now. It had taken you all day to come up with the throw away comment. You thought It was funny. You also didn’t think you would get this far in your interaction with Red Hood.

“Not really, just the one I hope” you chance a glance at him to find him still unsettlingly staring at you as a he takes a sip of his tea, now cooled. Your mind searches for what else to say.

“That’s good, I wouldn’t want that either” Jason finally breaks eye contact with you, looking around your apartment.

With his stare no longer on you, you take the opportunity to really take him in. Despite the scars on his face, there was kindness there. And despite his intimidating stature, he seemed to pull himself in, like he was afraid to take up space. His forearms exposed through his suit. What a weird design. Not that you were complaining. Overall, Red Hood was hot. You flush at the thought.

“Thank you, by the way” you rush out, “for saving me… it really means a lot”

Jason turns his gaze back to you. You brave up and hold his stare. Suddenly thinking, he looks familiar. You furrow your brows for a moment.

“Do I know you?” You ask before you can stop yourself. You physically cringe and try to back track.

“I mean, obviously I know you, you saved my life and all but I mean like I know your face? Maybe, not that it matters. Course you wouldn’t tell me if I did know your civilian identity because then it wouldn’t be a secret. I just think I know your face but that doesn’t mean that I want you to tell me. And maybe you just have one of those faces…” you continue to ramble some more. Jason watches you carefully and finishes his tea. You pause to breath in your rant and he jumps in.

“Thanks for the tea” he grabs his Helmet, sliding it on before continuing, voice changed, “and your welcome, for saving you.”

You watches as he walks back toward the window, frozen and unsure what to do. As climbs out onto the fire escape you yell out.

“Your welcome and you don’t have to hide outside, you can come in next time.”

He’s gone before even finish the sentence. You sink back in your chair.

What is wrong with you? Why are you so awkward? That was terrible!

You try to push the interaction from your mind as you close the window and go about spot cleaning your apartment. Once done your anxious thoughts return.

This is going to be a long night. You think as you turn into bed.

[sashi-ya]

ㅤㅤㅤㅤ エロチックトバー２０２４> MDNI / EXPLICIT CONTENT

THE SUCCESSOR 🐙 SOSUKE AIZEN X F! READER ＫINKTOBER DAY 1: IMPREGNATION

🐙 requested by: @muzansfangs Hi, honey! Your event looks absolutely awesome! Here I am submitting a request because you are an amazing writer❤️ Day 1 + Aizen Sosuke + f!reader (impregnation). Take your time, love you!❤️ ⚠️ tw: mdni. explicit content. impregnation. mentions of pregnancy. reader "used" by Aizen to fulfill the need for a successor. 🐙 wc: 637 // kinktober 24 masterlist // join the taglist

With his hands around your waist, pressing you against him, he whispers in your ear how much he desires to make you the “bearer of his descendance”

Your back laying on his chest, your legs hanging down his legs; sitting on that sterile “throne”, the king assures a step further on his plans...

Oh, Sosuke Aizen, what do you see in that future of yours? Solitude? Defeat? Why do you need a successor?

Your nape, your hair, rest on Sosuke’s shoulder and neck. Up, his right hand slides; your neck it finds, crushing carotids and jugulars, making you dizzy… out of breath, perhaps even controlling you to go and come from the brink of death. Slap after slap, thighs hitting against your ass. Sweaty surfaces that go up and down, as he drills into you with desperate hips.

“Will you bear my child, dear (Name)?” he asks, coercing you to say yes… in any case, a blurred mind and an almost limp body is unable to say otherwise.

“Y-ye-yes, Aizen-sa-sama” you cry, as he presses your cheeks, so your lips become pouty, and your words come out in an adorably humiliating way.

A sophisticated, tinted in psychopathic, smirk escapes his lips. It makes you tremble, how can someone be so sexy, so soft and yet so scary at the same time? Guess the strongest don’t really need to be violent.. oh, but what definitely holds an almost unbearable violence, are those hip thrusts that wont stop pumping on you.

And your walls, as lustful, as desperate as those thrusts, spasm, milking that man that needs to shut his chocolate eyes closed… see, there is a reason why you were chosen to serve Aizen-sama.

“Aren’t you a little bit needy? Heh” he murmurs, biting ever so softly the lobe of your right ear. The humid words of his hot breath, feels like they are kissing your brain, pulling you down with tingles everywhere.

“Always for you, Aizen-sama” you purr, in heaven, with your inner thighs trembling and your toes a little curled. “I am yours to please, I am yours to be used…”

Sosuke growls; he definitely knows how his you are. But, even though, the moment he listens to those words, his body reacts uncontrollably… So far from the cold, calm, and collected Aizen you know, he bites your neck. His thrusts are even more violent than before, this time you can’t bounce properly as his delicate hands, yet strong and evil, grab you by your waist. He lifts you up, he doesn’t really need you moving… just be a hole for his insatiable hunger this time.

“Shsh, baby…” he murmurs, penetrating you so perfectly. The position, with you lifted and softly bent forward allows the tip of his sex to hardly push your sweet spot. Like an expert, knowing so very well, exactly where to press, he makes you retort with just the violent drill of unstoppable ramming.

It is nearly impossible for you not to come, viciously and aggressively, as suspended in between heaven and hell… well, isn’t it funny how the new king of Hueco Mundo is actually fucking your right now?

“Come on, cum so that I can fill you up very well…” he continues, enjoying the pleasure of your milking walls. “You know you shouldn’t waste a single drop, baby? Would you keep it inside for me? We need to make you very, very pregnant”

You shiver… exactly why, you don’t really know. Is it because of your orgasm taking over? Or is it because you are being entrusted with such a high order from Aizen-sama?

In any case… “Yes, Aizen-sama… make me, really, really pregnant…” “Very good, my beautiful ray of sun… come on, do it with a smile for me… but, please, make sure not to fail”

ㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤAh, toxic motherfucker!

Taglist of amazing babes: @awas-posts @missfuriosa @theneighbourhoodferret @ariesbbytings @animesnowstorm @lenablack9919 💕🌻

[dcandmarvelimagines]

sweeter than you ever knew. (pt. 1)

Series: pt 1 pt 2 pt 3 pt 4 pt 5 Pairing: Wade Wilson x Logan Howlett x Fem!Reader Rating: Explicit Word Count: 6.8k Warnings: AFAB reader (uses she/her pronouns), 1st person POV, non-mutant Reader, some blood, Wade being too flirty for his own good, vaginal fingering, bathroom sex, dirty talking, the relationship with Logan is a "slow" burn in comparison. More smut to come, I swear. Author's note: Damn...it's been a while huh? My last comic related fic was in 2018, funny enough also because of a Deadpool movie. I was already sappy in a post before so I wont subject y'all to it. But this was intended to be a short little oneshot and has absolutely ballooned out of control. I'm thinking this will end up being five chapters. I will upload the second chapter concurrently with my ao3 upload, so if you prefer to read there, feel free! Also as a little aside: I am so unbelievably sorry that the reader's job working in outreach to help Al is barely described and is probably highly inaccurate. I was desperate not to get lost in the weeds of research on the subject. I needed something that would keep the reader out of the apartment most of the time and let the relationship grow differently, so neighbors was out of the question. If you work in community outreach (absolute angel), please just avert your eyes.

I used to think my life was boring. It was the same day in, day out. I never met anyone interesting or experienced new things. That changed when I knocked on an unassuming apartment door in a dingy building.

I worked in government outreach, providing assistance to elderly blind clients. I had been assigned to work with Althea Sanderson. Her file had listed her as combative and she didn’t disappoint. She absolutely hated my guts at first, grumbling about how she just needed her “disco dust” to keep going. She assured me that she had roommates and didn’t need me “thundering” around her small apartment. 

For nearly two weeks, I thought her mind had to have been slipping, because no one else would come from that apartment besides me. Imagine my shock when I walked into the place and found a hulking mass of a man, only in his boxers, in the kitchen. His brown hair, streaked with white, was wet after a shower and he was half heartedly rubbing at his shoulder with a towel covered in sparkly unicorns. “Who the hell are you?” He snapped, voice gruff. He glared at me like I had personally insulted him by my mere presence. My eyes darted all over him, the thick ropes of muscles in his arms, the harsh planes of abs, the thin sheen of dark hair on his chest, the trail disappearing into his boxers. The man yanked the fridge door open and snapped me from my drooling. 

I had barely stumbled my name out before Al, as she insisted I call her when she realized I wasn’t going anywhere, came around the corner, her hands guiding her along the wall. “Leave her alone Logan. She’s like herpes and I can’t get rid of her.” My lips pursed at the comparison. The man, Logan, huffed with either annoyance or laughter before padding away, beer clutched in his hand. For how big he was, I was shocked at how light on his feet he was. In comparison, I really did thunder around. 

“Oh! Do we have a new roomie!?” The voice trembled in excitement. Its owner bounded around the corner, clad only in low slung sweatpants, nearly tripping over the scraggly dog at his feet. I drew back, sucking in a sharp breath. The new man was no less tall than the other, but lean in comparison, with a wide chest and firm arms. But I was far more distracted by his skin. It was a mixture of mottled pink and white, looking more like swirled bacon fat than anything else. He was completely hairless but I saw the skin of his forehead rise. “Al, you didn’t say you had a hot granddaughter!” 

“Oh I’m not,” I said. While I was scheduled to be here for four hours, I was already contemplating how to escape the suddenly cramped apartment. 

“Does she look like she’s related to me dick for brains?” Al growled at him. The man shrugged, a megawatt smile plastered on his face as he picked up the dog and let it lick at his face. 

“She has the same wild sexual energy you do, my sweet black Betty White.” He walked closer, carelessly dropping the dog into Al’s lap just as she lowered herself into a creaky chair. The man theatrically bowed, snagging my hand to press a too wet kiss to my knuckles. His skin was unbelievably soft as it held mine, the grip light enough that I could pull away at any moment. “Wade Winston Wilson.” 

He was so close to me that I took a half step back. I gave him my name, just my first, and wriggled my hand free. “Um, I'm assuming your Al’s roommates?”

“Roommates is such a safe for work word, I prefer to be her personal pommel horse.” A laugh bubbles up before I can stop it. Wade grinned at the sound and shit, his face softened in such a charming way that I felt my defenses come down just a little. 

“I don’t think you understand what a pommel horse is.” 

“Isn’t it something you ride? Get all flexable on?” 

After that first awkward day, all four of us fell into an easy routine. Al seemed to warm to me more, though her sharp tongue never faltered. Wade was a vibrating ball of energy whenever I came over. He bounced around the kitchen as I made Al her coffee or insisted I sit with them to watch Golden Girls . I came to realize that only his right hand was so soft, the left was scratchy and blistered, which was something I refused to think about any deeper. Logan remained standoffish and reserved but he was there when I needed a break from Wade’s constant talking. I would occasionally find him sitting on the fire escape, smoking the cigar that seemed permanently stuck to his fingers. We often just sat in silence while Wade and Al argued about Ikea furniture. 

I had always found their schedule strange. They would disappear for days, sometimes weeks, at a time with no rhyme or reason. I had originally thought they might be businessmen but Logan’s quick temper and Wade’s obnoxious energy clashed with the idea. Wade often talked about going to exotic places and had brought me back a diamond that he swears up and down is not only real, but is also the tip of a woman’s finger. 

The day I found out their real profession had started horribly. The train line to Al’s apartment had broken, so I had to take a cab there. I was flustered, hungry, and in desperate need of caffeine when I trudged up the five flights of stairs to Al’s apartment, because, of course , her elevator had broken. It was customary for me to knock twice, allowing Al to respond before I used my key to come in. Today, my knocks were much shorter. “Good morning Al,” I called, slipping into the door before turning to close and lock it. I spun and nearly screamed. 

“Oh hey,” Wade said, leaning against the wall of the kitchen, a mug clutched in his hand. I was far more distracted by three massive claw marks across his chest, blood oozing down his stomach, staining his plaid underwear. 

“Oh my god! Wade!” My keys and purse clattered to the floor as I rushed to him, bracing my hands against his chest. “What happened?! Holy shit, oh fuck.” I was babbling now, distracted by how sticky and hot the blood was. But his chest rumbled under my shaking hands. I glanced up and saw a smile on his face as he failed to contain his laughter. “What are you fucking laughing at?! You’re dying here and you're laughing?!” 

“I don’t think I’ve ever heard you swear. Miss good samaritan knows such nasty words.” I tried never to swear around patients but this was a worst fucking case scenario. 

“Oh fuck off! You’re dying and you're laughing ‘cause I said a bad word?!” That only seemed to make him laugh harder. 

“Calm down sweetheart,” came a rough voice behind me. Logan had started to call me that more often, but it always felt like he was insulting me with the word. It usually had a stinge of annoyance laced around it, now was no different. “He’s fine.” I peaked over my shoulder, hands still pressed against Wade’s firm chest, about to argue with the other man about how un fine Wade was. I nearly screamed again. A knife was embedded into Logan’s shoulder. There was blood everywhere . On his bare chest, his face, his hands and arms. 

“Logan!” I wanted to reach for him but couldn’t without leaving Wade to bleed out. 

“Now peanut,” Wade cooed and slid out from under my touch. “I told you, baby knife is just for the bedroom.” With that, Wade yanked the knife from Logan’s shoulder. The spurt of blood made my head woozy and I gripped the counter to hold myself steady. Logan barely reacted to the five inch blade being ripped from his skin, just a small grunt. 

“What’s going on?” My voice was thick with confusion. They had clearly been mauled and attacked in their own home, yet they walked around like nothing traumatizing had just happened.

“Target practice,” Wade said, using a kitchen towel to clean baby knife. Logan turned and dropped on the worn couch, the springs screeching in protest. 

“What?” I grabbed at his wrist before he could walk away. “Wade, please, I hope you understand how jarring that was. Now, please explain and cut all the punny bullshit out.” Wade pressed a dramatic hand to his chest like I had insulted him. 

“We’re mutants.” My eyebrows knitted together as I stalked toward the living room. Logan sat there, whiskey already in hand. He seemingly hid a bottle everywhere. Wade followed behind before collapsing on top of Logan. The older man snapped his jaws like an animal and a little snarl escaped his throat. Wade grinned, tugged at his hair, before going to the other end of the couch. 

“Mutants? Like the X-Men?” The scowl Logan shot me turned my blood to ice. Some of that shock must have shown on my face because Logan glanced away, taking a hefty swig of whiskey, and Wade tugged at my bloody pinky. 

“Ignore him, the X-men are a touchy subject for him, and never touchy in the fun way.” He scratched at his chest, some of the blood smudging. The skin was…

“You’re healed?” I knelt before the couch, hands feeling his chest. “Holy shit I thought you were going to bleed out.” It was impossible. The wounds were deep , I could have sworn I saw bone before. 

“God I’ve thought about you kneeling there for so long.” Logan’s fist cracked into Wade’s arm. My hands flinched away and I quickly stood. “Hurtful peanut. You know my arms always take too long to heal.” 

“Stop being a fucking creep,” Logan hissed. I turned to him and saw that the wound in his shoulder was also gone. Without thinking, I bent to touch the smooth skin, as if I couldn’t believe it without feeling it as well. Logan went still under my touch. I knew Wade didn’t mind the physical contact, he practically threw himself at me whenever I was around, but Logan was always just out of reach. I was too frazzled to think correctly anymore. 

“So you can heal,” I mumbled. 

“Very fast,” Wade said. He grabbed the remote and clicked on the tv. 

“You can stop touching me now sweetheart.” Once again, I snatched my hands back with a mumbled sorry , a faint flush burning my cheeks. 

“Comes in real handy with our line of work.” Wade was bouncing his leg, the couch squeaking under him. Logan’s hand shot out to still him, knuckles showing white for a moment. Wade winced and I heard another snap.

“Which is…?”

Logan answered for me, “mercenaries.” 

“Oh,” I plopped down on the rickety coffee table. The information settled like a lead weight in my stomach. My first instinct was fear. They killed people for money. Would they then turn on me now? Curiosity tugged at me as well. I couldn’t explain it but there was something so magnetic about them. The edge of danger had always been there, especially with Logan. I would have never guessed it was this. Ever since I first met them, I knew I would be fascinated. I guess I had my answer as to why they were as fit as models. “How come I’ve never seen anything? Do you guys not have…guns or whatever?” 

“He didn’t want to scare you.” Logan jabbed his thumb Wade’s way. I cocked my head at Wade, a tiny smile pulling at my lips. He actually looked a little bashful. 

“I’ve found that women don’t always respond very positively to my intestines hanging out.” My stomach flipped and I sat a little straighter. 

“Has that happened?” 

“No, but a fortune teller told me it will happen when I least expect it.” He stood with an excited jump, moving to stand in front of a small closet. There was only a faint limp in his movement. As he walked, I became incredibly aware that both men were nearly naked, only clad in thin boxers. With every step, Wade’s well defined back flexed and his legs tensed. I only allowed myself a moment to take him in before I drew my gaze away. He turned and flung the door open with flourish. “Behold! My batcave!” I glanced inside, and found a tall gun case, massive stacks of ammo, and two katanas balanced against a red suit. There was a yellow one tucked next to it as well. “Mine is the red one, a very flattering color I assure you.” 

“The yellow one is yours?” Logan just gives me a curt nod. His face is stone again, clearly done with this conversation. “Do you use any of that?” I ask, motioning to the “batcave”, whatever the hell that means. 

Snikt.  

“Woah,” I whispered. The three blades protruding from between his knuckles were shiny and looked wicked sharp. I leaned forward and pressed the pad of my thumb against the middle blade. It immediately split the skin and a drop of blood oozed down my skin. Logan watched my warily, like I was liable to jump on the claws at any moment. “Do they hurt?” There were small beads of blood around where they had pierced through his skin. With a flex of his veiny forearm, the claws disappeared. The blades slid smoothly between the bones on the back of his hand.

“Yeah, everytime.” I watch his skin knit itself together again with rapt attention. Once it finished, I ran my injured thumb over the regrown skin, our blood smearing a thick stripe across his knuckles. Logan’s hand was relaxed as I held it. Wade flopped back onto the couch, his head in Logan’s lap, baby knife clutched in his hands. Logan seemed resigned, face relaxing just a bit, and allowed Wade to rest. He withdrew his hand from mine before resting his arm across Wade’s neck. The motion was surprisingly domestic and it made my heart warm. Behind me, the Golden Girls theme played. 

“Isn’t Al in danger with you two here? Don’t you have enemies that could find her?” The briefest sad expression flashed across Wade’s face. I stood suddenly, “oh my god where is she? Did someone already grab her and that’s why you were fucked up?” 

“She’s fine, probably wandering the streets or whatever women of her age do,” Wade made a dismissive wave of his hand. 

“Wade!” I stepped on his foot in my mad dash to my fallen purse. I needed my phone to do…something. Call someone? The phone call would sound ridiculous. Hi, I help a blind woman and her two mutant roommates are mercenaries and got her kidnapped. Yeah, totally believable. I had just snatched my bag up when the door opened and Al herself appeared. 

“Fucking Jesus,” she snapped as she ran into me. My body sagged in relief at seeing her. I gripped her shoulders, just to make sure she was actually there. 

“Oh my god Al, don’t fucking scare my like that.” Her hands flew up and shook out from my touch. 

“Well you were late!” I wasn’t. “Are those two done fucking yet?” I twisted to look at the men on the couch. Logan was half way out the window to smoke. I could have sworn I saw him lick at his bloody knuckles. Wade was studying me, the hint of a challenge in his eyes, daring me to say something about their relationship. I smiled, hoping it let him know I didn’t care. But that easy look might have been ruined when pieces fell together. The knife. The three slashes to Wade’s chest. Their near nakedness. 

Huh.

“Uh yeah Al, I think I ruined the mood for them.” She scoffed and shoved a grocery bag into my hands. I dutifully turned to the kitchen and began to store away the random assortment of items. She guided herself over to the coffee maker and began to load the grounds into a filter. 

“I think you are one of the biggest things that puts them in the mood honey.” I heard a growl float in from the window. 

Wade and Logan stopped avoiding me after finding out their true occupation. It never got any easier seeing their bloody bodies strew around the apartment. I slipped on enough stray bullets that I learned to watch my feet. Wade was always cleaning his guns with a concentration I didn’t think he was capable of. One night he forced me to sit down, offering his lap first and whimpered pitifully when I took the chair, and made me hold the gun, showing me how to cock it and flick the safety on and off. The name Chekhov was stamped across the side in shiny gold letters. “Do I really need to know this?” He leaned closer, cheek pressed to mine. His warm hands slid over my own, guiding me to a button that would pop the magazine out and helped me click it back into place. He had grown much bolder in his touching and I couldn’t bring myself to stop him anymore.

“Never know when you’ll need to flip the badass switch.” His bubbly finger tapped the glittering name for emphasis. I shifted in my seat to face him, my lips ghosting over his cheek. He followed my lead and our noses brushed. 

“I didn’t think I would need that with you around.” A beat passed as we looked at each other. There was something soft in his eyes that made my heart clench. “You’re going to protect me, right?” It wouldn’t take much to lean closer, to finally kiss him. I knew he was thinking the same thing and my eyelids fluttered closed in anticipation. 

The alarm for my Al’s meds broke the moment. 

I knew I was sliding into a sticky situation. I found myself staying later and later, well past my shift with Al had ended. It was absolutely forbidden for me to become involved with clients. The excuse that they weren’t technically my clients wouldn’t work on my boss. I needed to make a decision. Either stop working with Al or end any attachment to Wade, and Logan by extension. 

***

I’m not sure how Wade and I ended up on that date. He and Logan had been away on a job for a week. It was finally peaceful in the apartment but I couldn’t lie to myself, I had missed them. So I didn’t fight Wade too much when he asked “nicely”, aka demanded , he tag along while I ran errands for Al. She was the last person I had to visit for the day so I allowed him to drag me to a bar after I dropped her meds off. Logan had a dark look in his eyes when he saw Wade clutch my hand. “The old man is just jealous. He wishes someone would take him out, but he doesn’t do well in crowds, very bitey.” I smirked and let Wade choose our destination. His hand was steady around mine, giving it occasional squeezes as we rushed across busy streets. The bar he picked was properly seedy, full to the brim with haggard men with face tattoos. Normally, I would have run screaming from a place like this. But Wade was clearly well liked. He moved through the room, smiling and waving at everyone. He tried introducing me to some people but it was hard to keep their names straight. We found an empty booth tucked behind the row of pool tables. I eased onto the sticky laminate bench as Wade headed to the bar to get our drinks. I listen to the men next to my seat argue over who was supposed to break for their next game of pool while I waited. 

Wade returned with my drink, a neon green one for him, and two small shot glasses. I eyed them suspiciously as he passed me one of the whipped cream topped shots. “I thought it was only right to start our date with a blowjob.” I coughed on my laugh, examining the glass. He tapped his against mine before downing it and I followed his lead. It was pure sugar, nearly masking the burn of the alcohol. 

“Whoever made this has clearly never given a blow job. Way too sweet.” Wade grinned in that mischievous way he always seemed to when he was going to be especially gross. I had no idea why I was being so forward. But I felt light, happy. All my worries from work had melted away as Wade held my hand on our way here.

“Oh yeah? I’ve been told my cum is rather delicious. It’s all the pineapple I eat.” I rolled my eyes and matched his grin, propping my elbows on the table, head cradled between my hands. 

“I don’t think I’ve ever seen you eat a single fruit. Or a vegetable honestly.” Wade copied my pose, fluttering his nonexistent eyelashes. 

“How about you taste mine and I taste yours?” I pretended to contemplate, eyes scrunching, head tilting from side to side. My hand inched across the table before I plucked the cherry from Wade’s drink. He saw me, I could tell by the minute flick of his gaze, but he let me take it regardless. I yanked it from the stem with my teeth and chewed thoughtfully. 

“Hm, I’m not sure. Don’t you think Al would talk if you were moaning my name so much?” He grabbed my wrist and dragged my hand closer. My breath caught as his lips enveloped my index finger and thumb. His tongue lazed over them before he drew back, the cherry stem between his teeth. 

“Sweetie pie, I moan it enough as is.” I blushed and my stomach grew warm. The stem disappeared, his jaw moving. “I haven’t been able to convince the old bastard to dress like you yet. But he lets me pretend.” I took a big gulp of my drink and glanced away. The patrons were starting to get more boisterous. Their shouts echoed off the peeling wallpapered walls as they called for more rounds or catcalled some of the working girls. I watched as a pretty blonde walked off with two men. Would Wade and Logan take turns? Or would they pin me between them, spreading me open on both of their- “Jealous?” My head whorled back to him but only found a knowing glint in his eyes. 

“Shut up,” I growled and took another deep drink. Wade’s tongue lolled out, in the center was a perfectly knotted stem. I shifted in my seat. This was not how I had intended the night to go. I wanted just a drink, conversation, and then home for a long awaited rest. But here I was, squirming at the mere sight of Wade’s tongue. “Impressive,” I mumbled. I reached across the table and plucked the stem from him. It looked like he was going for another kiss but my hand drew back too fast.

“I know it’s impressive. Just spelling out my name gets it all twisted like that.” I rolled my eyes with a smirk. 

“You didn't strike me as a guy who would spell his name out. I thought you might be a little more creative.” He leaned closer, eyes just a bit too wide. 

“Oh? What were you imagining I would do? I have a lot of skills and I’ll use them all on you.” Damn it . I finished off my drink and the booze buzzed down my body as it settled inside me. A small voice in my head reminded me that I needed to pick. That if I went down this road with Wade, I needed to stop visiting Al. But fuck, I craved the feeling of his hands on me. I dreamt of him and Logan anytime I saw them. My brain became more and more depraved as the weeks went on. I could barely look at them sometimes without blushing. 

“Wade,” I sighed, twirling my straw in the slowly melting ice. “If we do anything, I have to stop working with Al. It’s a conflict of-“ he held a scarred hand up and my voice died away. 

“No work talk. It’s Friday, let me show you a good time.” I sighed again but nodded. 

The night passed blissfully. Wade was a strangely great date, much better than any guy I’ve been with recently. He asked me a million questions, ranging from my childhood, food allergies, to my favorite Mexican food. He gave me half joke responses about his own childhood, but gave me enthusiastic answers to everything else . He bought me another drink after he finished his but I was careful to sip mine slowly. The last thing I needed was a hangover. He also brought some greasy fries and I dove into them gratefully. We played one round of pool, which he won by only a few points. Then he promptly annihilated me in darts. “So unfair,” I groaned. “You do this for a living, I would have never won.” 

“I thought you being sexy would distract me enough. Strip, then you’ll win.” I had that pleasant buzz running through me so his words just made me giggle. 

“Maybe I’ll take you up on that.” I held up my hand to cut off his next words. “Not now you horny bastard.” He pouted, lip stuck a full inch off his face. I playfully plucked at it. “Pout all you want. You gotta put more effort in to get me naked.” 

That was perhaps the wrong choice of words because he bent down, his lips colliding with mine. I gasped but grabbed at his sweatshirt, clinging to him. He kissed like he wanted to eat me, all tongue and spit. He tasted as sweet as candy from the bright cocktails he had. It made my head swirl, skin heat. His hands moved to my hips and traced the sliver of exposed skin before they dove into my back pockets, and jerked me closer. I moaned into him as I felt the hard ridge in his pants pressed against my hip. The few whoops from our onlookers made me pause. “Probably not the best place.” Wade’s voice was a little husky, lips still close enough to mine that they moved with his words. 

“No,” I mumbled. But neither of us disentangled from each other. “I should probably go home.” Wade sighed and straightened. He nodded, tucking a loose lock of hair behind my ear. 

“Fuck you look gorgeous.” His voice was barely audible under the conversations and the music. I opened my mouth to say something but he cut me off. “I gotta hit the head then I’ll take you home.” He removed my hands from his sweatshirt, but still held one as he guided me to where the bathrooms were, situated at the end of a long hallway. “Wait here, don’t get too many men drooling over you.” Once he disappeared into the men’s room, I let out a breath. He was overwhelming, equal parts sweet, filthy, and ridiculous. The last thing I wanted to do was be responsible. To go home and ignore all the things he made me feel. I had already gone too far, what were a couple more steps? I bit at my thumb nail and watched the bathrooms intently. I didn’t see any women come or go into theirs. I scanned the bar and only found a handful of them. I knew I would have it mostly to myself. 

Cautiously, as if I was somehow breaking a law, I walked down and into the women’s bathroom. It was empty, mostly clean, and smelled fine. Which I’m sure is more than I could say about the men’s. I propped myself against the wall in the hallway, waiting for Wade to emerge again. Two men passed before I saw him. “Aw, I don’t need an escort out of this creepy hallway.” I roughly grabbed his shirt, and backed into the still empty bathroom. “Oh wow, the promised land.” 

I slammed him against the door, far too rough from nerves, but his face lit up nevertheless, a little excited laugh escaping him. “How about you show me those skills you talked about, yeah? Consider this a trial period before I let you fuck my brains out.” He didn’t need to be told twice. He hauled my body tight against his, lips crashing against mine again. This time, I gave into his kisses completely, his teeth tugging at my lips. There was a pinch of pain each time but it only made me claw at his neck harder. Judging by the groan he let out, I think I broke through skin. His tongue prodded its way into my mouth and I moaned loudly against him. His hands slid all over my body before they hooked behind my knees and he carried me to the counter. He lifted me like I weighed nothing. My head was beginning to grow fuzzy from our kiss but I refused to part, greedily sucking air from him instead. 

Wade was the first to rear back, gulping down lungfuls of air. I wanted to drag him back and kiss him till I was lightheaded again. “Goddamn woman,” he mumbled. I just hummed, moving my desperate kisses to his jaw. My hands crawled up his shirt and littered his torso with scratches. He leaned closer, my head hitting the mirror behind me, as he gripped my hips and dragged me flush against him. My legs curled around his waist, craving the feeling of his hard cock against me. 

“Wade,” I whined while I ground my hips against his. I found a particularly sensitive spot just below his ear that made him rasp my name. He cupped the back of my neck, leading me back to his greedy mouth. His thumb brushed along my jaw before his fingers delicately laid across my throat. I arched my neck to give his hand better access to the column of muscle. But his hands slipped from me entirely so he could shove my shirt over my breasts. He buried his face between them, peppering the skin with long, sucking kisses. “ Wade,” I moaned, hips bucking desperately against him, “I need you to fuck me.” His hand went to my jeans, pulling the button free and easing the zipper down. I yelped when his teeth captured a bit of flesh and bit down, hard . But the sting of pain only made me crave him more. Finally his hand plunged under my jeans and into my underwear. 

“So wet all ready,” he hummed, biting at more of my skin. He drifted over my clit in loose, but firm circles. With his free hand, he worked the cup of my bra down and captured my nipple in his mouth. I thursted against his hand in an attempt to get him to do more, to bend me over this sink and fuck me like I knew he wanted to. Instead, he traced the tip of his finger over my entrance and had the nerve to chuckle when I tried to force it inside. 

“ Jesus, Wade , stop teasing me.” My voice was airy, tinged with desire. His teeth glanced across my nipple and I nearly wailed. “Wade!” My nails went to his head and dug into his scalp, heels digging into his ass in annoyance. 

“I love the way you say my name, pretty girl.” His finger drove into me, pumping in and out quickly. He sucked one last bruise onto the top of my breast before he was kissing and licking back up my neck. 

“ More , Wade,” I panted, “you aren’t going to break me.” He laughed, the sound sending goosebumps across my feverish skin. Another finger worked its way into me and my eyes rolled back at the stretch, a sigh catching in my throat.  His thumb moved into more controlled figure eights. My legs trembled around him as he crooked his fingers inside, hunting for that spongy spot inside me. “Wade, oh fuck.” 

“God you moan so nice for daddy Wade.” Something between a laugh and a sob of pleasure bubbled up from my chest. Heat oozed through my body, settled deep in my stomach. 

“I’m not gonna call you that. Ah, keeping doing that, so good.” 

“Are you going to call Logan daddy when he makes you wiggle like this?” He found his mark and stroked the spot deep inside me with complete focus. My hips bore down on his hand, chasing for the orgasm I sensed. “ Aww seems like you like the idea. You’re sucking me in so much.” He bit more bruises on my neck, tongue lapping at the skin after to soothe the ache. “I can’t wait to see you stretched on his big dick.” 

I whimper, the tension inside me near breaking point. “Yours first.” The coil finally snapped. My eyes squeezed shut as a stream of his name and half gasps fell from my chapped lips. His free hand pinned my hip to the counter to stop its wild jerks. He scattered soft kisses across my face and cheeks as he worked me through my orgasm. It seemed to last an eternity and the waves of bliss made my body tingly. 

Eventually, my body relaxed and slumped against the mirror, chest heaving. Wade’s fingers remained in me, lazily plunging inside. Now that the haze had passed, I could hear just how wet I was. The lewd noises echo off the cramped bathroom’s tiles. “Wade,” I mumbled, tugging weakly at his wrist. “You should get to fucking me now.” 

“ Ew , how about you guys don’t. Do you know how dirty it is in here?” I jumped at the voice, scrambling to cover myself. Wade shifted himself to block me from view as I did. His fingers withdrew with a pop that made my face heat even more. The woman idly scrolled on her phone to give us privacy. My bra was fixed, shirt back over my chest, in record time. 

Wade was fine to let us wait it seemed. His sticky fingers lingered on my stomach, running over the curves and stretch marks, before he buttoned up my pants. “Okay sugar bean, let’s get you home.” He helped me off the counter, my weak legs wobbling just a bit. He kept his firm arm around me for support anyways. I had half a mind to think it was just to keep touching me. I didn’t mind and leaned into his side, head against his chest. 

The night was cool, the slight bite of oncoming autumn in the crisp air, and I breathed it in. My head felt clearer with each one. I went to pull away first, to tell him that I would see him on Monday, but he kept walking. “Where are we going?” 

“Gonna take you home.” I blinked. 

“How do you know this is the way to my place?” He made a noncommittal noise and shrugged. 

“Is some light stalking a turn off?” I knew I was crazy, absolutely insane, because all I did was beam up at him and cling closer. We made our way to my apartment in long winding segments. First the train where he pulled my legs over his and kissed at my wind whipped cheeks. Then a stop at a late night burger chain where Wade promptly drowned his in ketchup. We walked slowly to my apartment, hand in hand. Exhaustion had finally reached me and my feet dragged behind me. The night had only grown colder, breath misting in front of our faces. I was wearing a light jacket as I anticipated being home before the drop in temperature. I drew Wade’s arm closer, pressing it against my chest, clinging to the bit of heat. “You know, if we were both naked you would be warmer.” I rolled my eyes. 

“That’s absolutely not how that works. Also, my place is just around the corner.” We only had to walk a few more steps before I saw the familiar entrance to my apartment. Wade followed me to my door, leaning against the rail, waiting for me to fish my keys out of my purse. Once I had them in hand, I also tugged my phone from my pocket. “I don’t have your number.” I oddly felt shy, like this was too much of a leap. It felt more official like this. When I held it out for him, he took it eagerly, fingers tapping quickly. Then he kept typing. I peered down at my phone and saw him adding information for Asshole GILF, surrounded by an assortment of hearts. Quite frankly, I didn’t even know Logan had a phone, I had never seen him with it. 

My stomach dropped when I saw Wade open a conversation with Logan and began typing. I was only able to read the words horny and get it up before I snatched my phone back. “Oh my god Wade!” I rapidly deleted the text, refusing to read anymore of his nonsense sexting. “I would prefer Logan to not think I’m trying to jump his bones.” 

“Aw come on! Live a little. Logan loves people who come on too strong, especially on his face.”  

“I think you are probably the exception, Wade. Logan doesn’t seem to want much to do with me.” His cold palms cupped my cheeks and drew me closer. 

“I’m gonna let you in on a little secret, just you and me, yeah?” I nod, arms encircling his waist. The warmth of his chest spread into mine. “Logan dreams about you. He growls your name. He humps me in his sleep like a teenage boy. Then he wakes up and fucks me for hours.” My face heated at his words. I could feel him getting hard against my hip. “He wants you so bad it makes him crazy.” He pushed against me, just the slightest bit. “ I want you so bad it makes me crazy.” I realized that I never repaid the favor at the bar before being interrupted. 

“Do you want to come upstairs?” Wade smirked, kissing the apples of each cheek then my nose. 

“No, I’m gonna surprise Logan. He’ll go nuts when he smells you on me.” I blinked in confusion. I didn’t smell that bad, did it? “He has enhanced senses,” he explained. “He’ll be able to smell your cum on my fingers from outside the apartment.” 

“Oh god,” I mumbled, stuck between embarrassment and arousal. “Okay, well, don’t keep Al up.” 

“She has ear muffs.” I shook my head, chuckling at the absurdity. Wade pecked at my lips but didn’t allow me more. “Goodnight baby girl. Make sure you text me so I know who you are. So many crazy fangirls, you wouldn’t believe it.” 

“Uh huh,” I teased, finding the key fob for my building. Wade left one lingering kiss on my forehead before giving me a nudge toward my door. The scanner beeped, door releasing with a click. I wedged the door open before it could lock again. “Goodnight, see you Monday.” I blew him a kiss before the door clicked behind me as I went to the elevator. I reached for my phone and searched for Wade in my contact list. Of course I found him listed as Bootycall . Instead of solely hearts, his name was circled by eggplants and hearts. 

Me: you have to send me a picture for your profile. I could have missed you 

The elevator dinged and the door slid open. I traced my usual route to my apartment, jiggling the lock open with my key. My phone buzzed on the counter as I set it down to toe off my shoes and hang my coat up. 

Bootycall: once I’m done with Logan, I’ll send pictures for the both of us. 

Bootycall: Do you have other fuckbuddies? How could you? We should be the only ones for you

I woke up late the next day to two pictures. One was blurry, but the brown hair and a pointy white tooth told me it was Logan. It seemed Wade had tried to sneak it and was caught. The picture of Wade nearly made me faint. Pearly white beads of cum were splattered across his face and dripped off his exposed tongue. 

Me: I can’t possibly make that your contact picture

Bootycall: you’re right! Make it your background!

[stevie-petey]

episode eight: the battle of starcourt

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

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

Rating: general, violence and swearing

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

Words: 21.2k (ouch)

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

-

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

No one knows what to do. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“I’m sorry.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“You know him?” 

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

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

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

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

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

“Anytime, old man.” 

– 

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

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

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

And somehow Billy has become the face of it. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“We cut the brain off from the body.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“And who are you?” 

“Erica Sinclair. And who are you?”

“Murray… Bauman.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“And I won’t.” 

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

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

The walkies. Cerebro.

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

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

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

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

Dustin sighs. “It’s not that simple.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

–

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

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

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

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

“Yeah, why?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Astounding…”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Lame.”

“Goodbye, Wheeler.”

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

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

But no one has asked the same question for Billy. 

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

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

– 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Bald Eagle had been your idea. 

“Scoops Troop?” You ask your brother.

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

“Not bad, buddy.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

You freeze. 

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

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

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

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

Someone has to help.

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

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

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

El.

The Mind Flayer has them. 

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

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

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

“That’s what I’m trying to do!”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

–

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“I see him!” He floors it. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“I like bee, better.” Jonathan agrees.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“I want to hear it.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Gosh, I miss you, Dusty-bun.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

“So you left them?”

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

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

“Y/N–”

“Turn. Around.”

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

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

– 

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

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

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

“If we throw them from above, yeah!”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

And then you’re gone. 

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

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

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

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

Everything happens slowly after that. 

The first claw that penetrates Billy’s side. 

The second one that cuts through his other side. 

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

Everything stops.

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

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

The gate has been closed. 

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

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

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

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

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

Those had been your last words to him. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

And then you had left him. 

Billy Hargrove died alone.

You and Max will share the burden of this guilt. 

– 

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

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

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

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

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

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

It’s all a blur after that. 

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

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

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

Time. 

It always goes back to time. 

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

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

Her eyes meet yours. 

Hopper isn’t with her.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

You finally, finally, have come home. 

– 

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

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

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

“I’m sorry, Mrs. Waters.” You squeezed her hand, mourned with her.

Hopper’s funeral took place a week after Starcourt burned down. The entire town showed up, something that you know the old man would’ve hated, and he was crowned Hawkins’ hero. You spent the ceremony in the very back, holding El’s hand, so that the two of you wouldn’t be seen.

Billy’s funeral was a few days after Hopper’s. Max sat alone at the front of the church, Billy’s father had been too drunk to attend and her mother couldn’t get the time off of work. After the ceremony, the girl silently followed you into your car and spent the rest of the day at Bookstrordinary with you. She hadn’t wanted to go home to an empty house, and you understood the feeling. 

Max spends most of her summer with you at the store after that. Some days she helps restock the shelves, singing along to your set of tapes, bright and cheery. But some days she’s quiet, sits in a corner and pretends to read whatever you hand her. El stops by the store sometimes, too. You read comics to her, bake her the oatmeal raisin cookies she loves so much, and gossip about Mike and Lucas if Max is having one of her good days. 

During the first week you bake Joyce’s favorite muffins, the second week you bake her brownies. You offer her a shoulder to cry on every time you stop by the Byers home, you reminisce over Hopper and his disdain for you; she appreciates everything you do. 

Steve spends every single day with you, it doesn’t matter where you are. Without a job, he follows you everywhere. Whether you’re at work, at home, even at Jonathan’s or Nancy’s, he’s always able to find you with Robin right behind him. Nancy thinks the newfound trio is bizarre, but Jonathan can’t help but laugh whenever he sees Robin talking your ear off while Steve follows you around like a moth to a flame.

Together, you all try to heal.

Two weeks pass and you’re woken up by the ringing of your phone. 

“Hello?” Annoyance seeps through your greeting. You’ve only just managed to fall asleep, the nightmares at bay for once. 

“Come outside, angel.”

His voice wakes you up, the annoyance now replaced with confusion. “Steve?”

“Wear something warm, okay?”

“What–?” He hangs up, the line disconnects, and you’re completely taken aback by the phone call. You didn’t make any plans with Steve tonight, at least not any that you can recall. He had spent the day with you at work, ate dinner with you and your family, before watching a movie with Dustin and going home. 

You’re not entirely sure why he’s called you at nearly two in the morning to come outside, but you listen anyways. On your desk chair lays the cardigan Steve bought you for Christmas, his initials stitched into the sleeve. Sliding it over your shoulders, you quickly put it on before climbing through your window.

Steve’s car is parked two houses from yours, headlights off. There’s music faintly playing that can be heard through the window, and a familiar melody has you running to get inside. “The Beatles?”

They were the band that you and your dad used to listen to. His fingers would strum their songs on his guitar as the two of you sat side by side on the front porch of your childhood home. He would hum the words to you. Told you that you should know about real music. 

When your dad left, he took the music with him.

Jonathan had tried to get you into his favorite artists. The Smiths, David Bowie, the Clash. He would sit you down in his room and play their songs over his record player and watch your reactions. While the music was good, and you’ve come to love them because the artists reminded you of Jonathan, it was never the same as listening to the Beatles with your dad during early July mornings. 

Then one night, when you and Steve had been driving around Hawkins, a Beatles song began to play over the radio. Unknowing of your history with the band, Steve started to hum along the same way your dad would do, and it was finally then that music was brought back into your life.

“What, I don’t get a hello?” Steve is smiling ear to ear, seeing the flushed joy on your face and the cardigan you wear. 

You throw your body over the center console and hug him. “Hi, honey.”

As he drives, Steve is unusually quiet. His initial smug greeting upon your arrival is quickly overshadowed by a shy demeanor. Steve’s fingers fidget on the steering wheel, his foot taps against the car’s floor. The Beatles play softly within the car and somewhere along the route you find that the wooded scenery starts to look familiar.

He’s driving you to Lover’s Lake.

“Why are we heading towards the lake?” You ask Steve, but he pretends not to hear you. Instead, he turns the radio up and sings along to Paul McCartney. Your eyes wander to the backseat and notice a small box nestled against the leather. 

A few minutes later Steve parks the car and wordlessly the two of you get out. It’s dark, the moon reflects off the lake’s water. Crickets sing in the air and the waves lap at the shore. It’s a beautiful night, the July heat is masked by the night’s breeze; your cardigan keeps you warm. 

Lost in admiring the view, you don’t notice that Steve has left your side until he returns with a picnic basket. The box you saw earlier is tucked underneath his arm. You tilt your head at him, quizzically. “What are you planning, Harrington?”

Steve grabs your hand. “You’ll see.”

He leads you down to the lake’s edge where the water meets the sand. There’s a trail that Steve once found when he was nine. It had been during the last fishing trip he had ever taken with his dad. The man commanded him to hook the worm and Steve cried. Embarrassed and ashamed, Steve had run towards where the sand met the woods and found a meadow hidden within it. 

There are flowers in full bloom within the meadow, and you gasp when you see their vibrant pinks and blues. The flowers are delicate yet their stems are long. Steve sets the picnic basket down and pulls a blanket out from it. He sets it onto the grass and lays down, motioning you to join him. 

The stars are clear tonight, shining bright above the two of you. They almost seem to wink at you as you lay side by side with Steve. His hand is in yours, as it always is these days, and with only the stars as his witness, Steve whispers into your ear, “Thank you for staying.”

His breath warms your neck, and you know, without having to ask, what he’s thanking you for. Your promise to him last year, that you’d wait for him. He hadn’t been ready. The timing of it all wouldn’t have been right, but you knew, even back then, that you’d wait forever for Steve Harrington if it meant you’d receive even half of his love. 

Take your time, I’ll be here. 

“It was the easiest thing I’ve ever done.” The words come easily to you, raw with truth and vulnerability. 

A soft sigh escapes Steve. He turns his head to you, eyes finding yours, and you’ve never seen such tenderness within him. He opens his mouth, sighs out the words you’ve longed to hear again since that night at Starcourt. “I love you.”

“I love you, too.” You don’t think you’ll ever tire of saying those three words to him. There’s so much love within you, so much you’ve ached to give out ever since you were a little girl, and now you finally can. 

Steve kisses you with a softness that releases a sigh from your own lips, and you know he’s wholly, truly, yours now. With a swift motion, Steve places himself on top of you as you kiss. His weight presses down on you, one hand cups your cheek and the other steadies him. His hair tickles your face, his cologne clouds your brain, and the sweet taste of July honey coats your tongue. 

Minutes, maybe even hours, pass as you kiss Steve. It’s lazy, no sense of urgency as your lips move against his. It’s warm, it’s soft. Eventually he manages to pull himself away from you, he’s brought you here for other reasons tonight. 

“Hold on, I got you something.” Steve fixes his hair, clears his throat, and pulls out a container from the basket. He reveals a freshly baked loaf of banana bread on a beautiful glass plate. There’s a small, lopsided candle on top of it.

“You came prepared tonight,” you tease him, still breathless from the kisses and love.

“My mom did, actually. She’s the one who made this.” You sit up and look at Steve, wide eyed. He laughs at you, finding your stunned reaction endearing. “Relax, angel. She really wanted to bake you something, and I had to make up for allowing Russians to ruin your seventeenth birthday, didn’t I?” 

Words escape you. Steve’s mom made you banana bread, a woman you have still yet to meet, though you’ve only heard fond stories about. She had insisted on doing this kind thing for you. 

Steve lights the candle and holds the plate up for you. “C’mon, make a wish, Y/N.”

You close your eyes, smiling, and the wish comes easily to you.

For time to stay like this, forever.

You blow the candle out, Steve cuts the banana bread, and you take turns feeding it to one another. The dessert is delicious, freshly baked and still warm. It’s sweet and nostalgic and everything you could ever ask for. 

When you’ve finished eating, Steve claps his hands. “Alright, now onto the real event of the night!” 

You raise an eyebrow. “What, the kissing wasn’t enough?” Steve makes a panicked noise and you laugh at him. “I was teasing, honey.”

“You terrify me,” he huffs, before revealing a box from behind him, the very same one you’ve been curious about all night. 

“I aspire to be terrifying,” you stick your tongue out at Steve before turning the box over in your hands. It’s light, lighter than you expected. “Is this my gift you’ve been bragging about?” For months leading up to your birthday, Steve had been boasting about this amazing gift he had thought of, how he had convinced the party to help him. 

“Open it and find out.” There’s a glint in Steve’s eyes, yet you also see the shyness return as well. He’s nervous to see your reaction, he wants more than anything to have gotten this right. 

You roll your eyes at him but open the box. It isn’t wrapped like your other gifts from Steve have been. Instead the box is made of a dark oak, and its lid opens with a soft click. The silver catches your attention first. It’s a small chain with two silver ovals on opposite sides. In between the two ovals is a collection of charms. 

“Is this…?” The charms are all roughly the same size, but each vastly different from the other. 

Steve nods at you, rubs the back of his neck. “It’s a charm bracelet.” 

Moonlight reflects off of one of the charms, revealing it to be a frog, another one to be a cookie, and slowly you piece it together. There’s six charms, one for each member of the party. “Steve.”

“Have you figured it out–oomph!” He lands with a thud on his back as you attack him with a hug. Slightly out of breath, he laughs and wraps his arms around you. “I’ll take that as a yes, then.”

“How did you get the kids to do this?” You lay on top of him, blinking back tears as you hold the  bracelet delicately in your hands to admire it. 

Steve sighs in exasperation. “Money and a lot of begging. They were all for picking out charms for you, I just had to pay them to spend more than five minutes with me at the jewelry store.”

You laugh, that sounds exactly like them, and you love those kids with everything within you. Holding up the frog pendant, you know which kid picked it out for you. “Mike?”

“Yup. Said something about Kermit the frog?”

“He’s such a little shit,” you say with fondness. Last year, when Billy had nearly choked you to death, your voice had been lost and Mike wouldn’t stop referring to you as Kermit. Your fingers skim over the pendant next to it, a simple blue one, and you smile. “Dustin?”

“He told me about your code blues.” Steve rubs your back, content to have you resting against him. You hum, touched that your brother trusted Steve enough to confide this to. No one else knows about your code blues, it’d been a special thing just between the two of you. 

With your ear pressed against his chest, listening to his heartbeat, Steve explains the rest of the charms to you. His voice is lazy, slow, lilting with fondness, and his hand a firm weight against your back. Max chose a knife charm to remind you of how badass you are. Will chose a bee, because he’ll always be your little bee. Lucas was able to find a small, white flower that resembles a dogwood, knowing that it’s your favorite. As for El, she chose a cookie based solely on her love for the ones you bake for her. 

“What about the ovals?” You ask Steve after he’s done explaining what the kids chose for you. The ovals are slightly larger than the charms, almost serving as a divider between them. The metal is smooth underneath your fingers. 

He brushes hair out of your face and winks. “Turn them over.”

With slight confusion, you do, and discover that they’re engraved. Etched onto the back of one oval is honey, and, on the other, angel is written. They’re your names for one another, nestled between charms from the kids you love so dearly in your life; this is a gift made from pure, unadulterated love. 

“Oh my god,” it’s perfect, absolutely perfect. Your lips are all over Steve’s face before he even has time to blink. You scatter millions of kisses upon his face, drown him in them, With every kiss that you press upon his pretty skin, you shower him with praise. “Thank you, thank you, thank you!” 

Steve laughs and tries to move his face away, but really he leans into the onslaught of love. His cheeks burn from smiling so hard and from the heat you always make him feel. He grabs your waist and enjoys the skin he holds. “You like it?”

“I love it, Steve!” 

“Does this make up for the whole Russian fiasco?” He asks, only joking a little bit. He still feels awful for dragging you into everything, but with time he’s learning to forgive himself. Before he overthinks it, Steve adds, “Am I now the best boyfriend in the world?”

His words make you blush, and you don’t think you’ll ever get used to Steve being yours. You’ve waited so long to be his, to hold him and kiss him like you do now. You cherish the feeling, the sensation of knowing a boy loves you the way that Steve does. “You’ve definitely redeemed yourself for getting me trapped in a Russian lair on my birthday. And you’re definitely the best boyfriend in the world.”

Steve, despite being underneath you, does a victory dance and whoops into the night. He’s elated, his face shines when you look down at him, and you’ve never been so in love before. You once thought you knew what love was, what the burn of it could feel like. But now, with Steve lying beneath you as his arms keep you from falling, you know that love is airless, light, cool to the touch and warm on the skin. Love isn’t supposed to hurt, it’s supposed to feel like coming home after a long day of being out in the cold. 

After Steve helps you put on the charm bracelet, you lay together in the meadow. The lake’s waves can be heard in the distance. Crickets chirp their greeting, the stars wink hello above you. Their noises serve as a lullaby to you, soothing you to an almost sleep-like state. You nestle your head into the crook of Steve’s neck and let out a sleepy exhale. 

Feeling this, Steve strokes the back of your hair. “You fallin’ asleep on me, Henderson?”

“I’m resting my eyes.” 

“Very convincing,” he chuckles, tightening his embrace to try and stave off the cold that creeps in. He lets out his own tired sigh, your weight upon him has always put him at ease. He inhales, smells your perfume, and he can’t believe that he’s here right now with you. After everything he’s been through, he can’t believe that somehow he’s come out of it with you next to him. Last year he thought he had lost you forever. This year he can see forever with you. “I think I like this July a whole lot better than the last one.”

It’s meant to be a joke, a gentle tease. More of a reflection of how far the two of you have come in such a short amount of time, but still Steve’s words remind you of something. You’ve never told him the real reason why you left last summer. Why you ran away from him. 

“I was scared, last summer.” 

Steve tilts his head at you. “Scared of what?”

“I was scared of falling in love with you,” the confession lifts from your chest. It hangs over you both, the weight of it tangible. Steve’s eyes soften, he lets out a soft oh, and you duck your head shyly. “Last July, you were… Everything. You were everything to me, and it terrified me. I was still figuring my feelings out for Jonathan back then, you had Nancy, but you were so lovely and I just–I couldn’t do it. It wouldn’t have been fair, not to anyone, but I’m sorry.”

“Y/N…” Steve hadn’t known. All this time, he thought he had done something wrong. But really you had been trying to protect yourself, protect him, and he understands now why you had to leave him for a while. He sees the distress on your face and he shushes you, kisses your forehead. “Don’t apologize, okay? I honestly would’ve run away too, if I were you. I’m just… You came back to me, in the end. That’s all I care about.”

He’s too good for you. “I still hurt you.”

“You’re human,” Steve brushes more hair out of your face. “We all make mistakes. You ditched me for a few months and I almost got you killed by crazy Russians. I think we’re pretty even now.”

Despite the guilt in your throat, Steve manages to draw a smile from you. It’s what he’s always done best. Even on the day Will had gone missing, he had been the one to ease the loss by pretending not to have known your name. He had made you laugh when you thought you could never laugh again. Steve would do anything to get you to smile, and you cannot imagine where you’d be without him. “We always even our debts, huh?”

“It’s tradition at this point.”

And you laugh, full-bellied and loud and recklessly. It echoes into the night, Steve’s reverberates into your ears, and you’re happy. 

– 

A month passes, and in the mid-August heat, Jonathan knocks on your window late one night. 

His knuckles rap against the glass and it’s a sound reminiscent of before, when you were little kids who didn’t know how yet to hurt each other. You crawl out of your bed, curious, though happy nonetheless to let him in. 

You go to open your curtain, ready to tell the boy all about what Dustin had done today, unaware that when you open the curtain, everything will change. 

Jonathan is crying. 

“Bee, oh my God.” You quickly open the window and he manages to crawl through, though sobs wrack his body. He’s shaking, and for a terrifying moment you think that something has happened to Will. “Is everything okay?”

He stands before you, chest heaving and eyes red, and with two words your world comes crashing down. “We’re moving.”

Time stands still. You’re seventeen and your childhood is coming to a close.

Somehow you’re holding onto Jonathan as he explains everything through his tears. He’s moving in early September, going all the way to California. He and his family are leaving Hawkins, leaving you. 

Your legs give out, or maybe it’s Jonathan’s, but you hold each other on the floor, intertwined, mourning the loss of growing up together. Your tears mix with his, his breathing becomes yours. The two of you cling onto each other, scared that one day soon you’ll never be able to do this again. 

“We need to–” Your breathing is shaky, your eyes sting. You feel a desperate franticness claw out of you, you grasp at what little sanity you have left. “We need to promise each other that–that we’ll see each other every day before you leave, in some capacity. It–it doesn’t matter how but–”

“I’ve already talked to Nancy about it, bug.” Jonathan wipes your tears, lets his own fall freely. He knew you’d say this, and he loves you all the more for it. “It’s been agreed.”

You nod, relieved. It isn’t much, it still doesn’t change the fact that Jonathan will leave you in the end, but at least you’ll make every last second with him count. You’ll move into the Byers home if you have to, they’re your family. He’s your person. He’s embedded into your skin, he’s nestled between your bones. 

Last year you and Jonathan promised you would never let go of each other. 

The year prior to that you promised each other that nothing would change between you two. 

Now, holding onto each other as the world you’ve been building together for five years comes crumbling down, you have to believe that the promises will be enough.

–

Steve and Robin rope you into helping them find a new job.

You innocently pointed out that Family Video was hiring, figuring it was an easy enough place to work at, and suddenly the two of them had shoved you into Steve’s car with resumes in their hands. Honestly, you should’ve seen it coming. 

“You put your mom down as a reference?” Robin questions Steve as you all get out of the car. She had agreed to proofread it after you politely declined, stating that if you proofread anything Steve wrote, it might ruin your relationship. 

“Yeah, why not?” Steve slams his door, straightens his shirt, and grabs your hand as you walk inside. “She’s like, super well respected.”

You share a look with Robin. “Rich kids,” you both groan at the same time. As much as you love Steve, you’ll neve quite get over how well connected he is. It’s bizarre and slightly terrifying how much the Harrington name can get you in this town.

“Whatever, call me a rich kid, but it’s my car you guys get free rides in.”

Robin rolls her eyes. “You’re such a dingus.”

“I didn’t ask to be here,” you remind Steve, though you thank him when he holds the store’s door open for you and Robin. “I think this could count as kidnapping.”

Robin bumps her hips against yours. “Not technically. Besides, I thought we agreed to leave our kidnapping days behind us after Erica?”

You shove the teen and follow her into the store. You look around at all the movies, slightly impressed. You’ve never really visited Family Video before, only really stopping by if you were picking up Dustin from the arcade next door. The store is nice, albeit small, but you can see Steve and Robin enjoying themselves. There’s good music, few customers, and the uniformed vest is less mortifying than Scoop’s small shorts and sailor hats. “It’s not so bad in here.”

“Why thank you, pretty lady.” A greasy looking man at the register smiles at you, leaning over it in a very unappealing manner. His name tag informs you that his name is Keith.

Steve immediately steps in front of you and stares the guy down. “She doesn’t need you thanking her, buddy.”

You can tell that he wants to say more, but you see the “general manager” on Keith’s name tag and quickly try to deescalate the situation. If your idiot boyfriend wants the job, he can’t piss off the guy hiring. “Steve, why don’t we take a look around while Robin does all the talking?”

“What–” He doesn’t have a chance to argue, you’re already pulling him down a random aisle, throwing a quick “good luck!” to Robin as you leave. 

She talks with Keith, and it seems to be going well. She shows him their resumes, smiles at him kindly. before she shouts across the store to Steve. “Dingus, what are your three favorite movies?”

Steve nearly drops the movie he had been looking at. “Uh, Animal House?” You can practically hear Robin’s disappointed sigh from where you stand, and Keith looks unimpressed. Panicked, Steve whispers to you, “What are my favorite movies?”

“I don’t know!” You hiss, frantically trying to get this poor man a job. “Just, name two other movies. Animal House can’t be too bad, right?”

“Star Wars,” Steve manages to get out, now walking back to the register. You stand next to him, looking nervously at Robin, who makes a pained noise at his responses. 

The manager stares blankly at him. “A New Hope?”

“A new what now?”

You drop your head into your hands and sigh. He’s hopeless. Already knowing it’s a lost cause, you mumble to him, “It’s a Star Wars movie, Steve.”

He snaps his fingers. “Right! Yeah, it’s the one with the teddy bears, isn’t it?” Steve makes what you think is supposed to be an Ewok sound, which only makes you sigh again. Sensing he’s fucked up, Steve tries to backtrack. “No? Uh… Oh! The one that just came out, the movie. The one with DeLorean and Alex P. Keaton and he’s trying to bang his mom.”

“Oh, dear.” It’s a trainwreck, one you can’t look away from, and Robin can only shake her head at you. “Steve?”

“Yeah?” 

“Stop talking.”

“Uh, yeah.” Steve clears his throat, he knows he’s rambling. Had he known he would have a goddamn pop quiz about movies, he wouldn’t have dragged you here for the interview. “Those are my top three. Classics.”

Keith looks between you, Steve, and Robin. He points to Robin first, “You start Monday.” He points to Steve, “You start never.” And then he points to you, “You can start whenever.”

“Okay, I get why you’re telling me no,” Steve waves a hand in front of you, “but she didn’t even apply!” 

You’re also confused by how this day is turning out, and you look at Robin, wide eyed and pleading. She’s good with people, Keith seems to like her. When she sees you silently begging her to fix this, Robin sighs and steps in front of Steve. “Will you just, um… Will you guys give us a minute?” 

“Why?” Steve doesn’t move, and you want to throw a shoe at him. 

“Let’s go, pretty boy.” You grab the back of his shirt and yank him back to the aisle of movies. He doesn’t fight you, he simply accepts his fate and allows you to drag him away. Before turning the corner, you nod at Keith. “Thanks for the job offer, but you should really give it to the guy I’m currently dragging.”

Robin snickers at Steve’s offended huff as the two of you leave, before she starts trying to convince the manager to let Steve work there. From where you stand, it seems like a heated discussion. You try to lean closer, nosey, and while you’re distracted, Steve runs into a life-sized cardboard cutout of Phoebe Cates wearing a red bikini. 

He fights with it, tries desperately not to let it fall, all while his resume hangs from his mouth. “Shit! Oh, Fast Times! Ever heard of it? Top three for me, Keith.” Robin laughs and Steve turns the cardboard cutout to you, wiggling his eyebrows. “Own any red bikinis?”

You flick his forehead, though you laugh as well. “In your dreams.”

“I can sleep right now and find out–”

“I will flick you again.”

“A kiss is preferred, but whatever.”

– 

When the Byers move, you spend the entire day fighting back tears as you help them pack. 

You spent the night in Jonathan’s room, both of you dreading the morning to come. Neither of you had slept, instead spending the entire night taking turns sharing your favorite memories together. The day you met. The time a dog chased you. When Jonathan mistook your sweater for his and wore it to school. Late night drives. Movie nights with your brothers. You relive it all that night. 

As the morning sunlight began to stream into Jonathan’s room, the warmth the memories brought started to fade away. Slowly, as the sun rose, you and Jonathan packed his room. You helped him organize his vinyls, sort through his mixtapes. When he isn’t looking, you steal a few t-shirts and flannels from his closet. He won’t notice they’re gone until he’s halfway to California. 

When it gets too much, seeing all of Jonathan’s life dwindling down to only a few boxes, you wander into the living room and help Joyce pack as well. She sees the tears in your eyes and gives you things to do, but eventually you can’t take it anymore. You go into Will’s room, and it’s the same. You cry, he cries with you, and it’s bittersweet. The rooms empty, the boxes grow.

El’s room is the hardest to pack, she has so few items to call her own, and you’re both silent as you move through the room together. 

With each box that you tape full of things you grew up with, you feel a piece of your childhood being packed away as well. The plates you used to eat off of, the books you used to bring from your job, the toys you passed down to Will. It’s all there, pieces of you frozen in time.

As you tape a box labeled “games” in Jonathan’s messy handwriting, you hear Max and Lucas singing in the living room. The sound makes you smile. It’s one of Max’s better days, she’s teasing Dustin for singing with Suzie, and she’s in a good mood. The rest of the party keeps her occupied. The kids all arrived as early as Joyce allowed them to, Nancy and Mike were the first to knock on the door. 

You place the box next to the others and walk towards Jonathan’s room. He’s leaning against its door frame with Nancy beside him, and you join them. You stare at the empty room, the one you’ve called your second home ever since you were twelve. It hurts, seeing it stripped of everything. 

All of Jonathan’s boxes are in the living room, filled with the things that make him who he is. There’s a drawer in your room of things Jonathan has left over the years, and you’re never giving them back. They’re all you have left of him. 

You and Jonathan take in his barren room, and you sigh against the door frame. “It’s so… empty.”

Nancy crosses her arms. “Is that everything?”

“I guess so,” Jonathan stuffs his hands in his pockets. His room feels cold somehow, its emptiness devoids it of the warmth it once had. He can still hear your laughs echoing in the floorboards, he can still smell your perfume that clings onto the walls. There’s scuff on the closet door from the time the two of you thought it’d be a good idea to play blind-folded baseball in the small room. 

Jonathan steps into his room, taking it all one last time. The sunlight from his window illuminates his silhouette, making him appear even smaller within the room. “Seventeen years of my life… packed up in one day.”

His voice is melancholic, his body is sad. You nudge Nancy, nod your head in Jonathan’s direction, urging her to go after him. She nods, understands that you’re telling her to say goodbye, giving them the space to do so. She smiles at you appreciatively.

You do it because they love each other, but selfishly a part of you leaves because you can’t say goodbye just yet. 

“Thank you,” she whispers, following after Jonathan. 

You find El as she’s leaving Joyce’s room. She’s holding a piece of paper, clutched closely to her chest. There are tears in her eyes, though you know better than to ask why. It’s a sad day for everyone, you’ll let her grieve on her own. However, that doesn’t stop you from pulling the girl into a fierce hug. 

“I’ll miss you so much, sweetheart.” You mumble, kissing the top of her head. “I don’t know who’s going to paint my nails now.”

El laughs through her tears and holds you tight. “I can ask Mike to.”

You kiss her head again, close your eyes, and pray to whoever is above that this girl will stay who she is forever. That she will never change. Her kindness is genuine, her joy is admirable. All her life she only knew cruelty, and yet she still came out of it so full of love. “I’d love to hear how that goes.”

“I will write you,” El promises, and you nod eagerly at her. She pulls you in for one last hug before finally releasing you to go see Joyce. 

The woman greets you with a tired smile when you walk into her room. She’s kneeling on the floor, folding clothes. They’re baggier than what she normally wears, darker, and you finally realize that they’re Hopper’s. 

A lump forms in your throat. She shouldn’t be doing this alone, packing away the remnants of his life. “Here, let me help.”

Joyce accepts, and together you sit in comfortable silence as you go through the clothes Hopper left behind. They still smell like him, old cigarettes and whiskey. It’s a nostalgic scene, a part of you wishes you could keep one of his shirts. He had been dear to you, regardless of the constant bickering you faced with him. 

“I don’t blame you, you know.” Joyce speaks softly next to you, catching your attention. “At all.”

You look up at her, sucking in a breath. “I don’t… I don’t know what you mean, Mrs. Byers.”

“The guilt, honey.” She places a hand on your arm, gentle as she always is with you. “I know you blame yourself for what happened to Will, but you shouldn’t. You have to let go of it. I want…” Joyce pauses, looks into your eyes the way a mother does to her daughter. “I want you to promise me that you’ll live the life that you deserve, because you’ve spent half of your life making sure my boys lived the lives that they deserved. Can you do that for me?”

“I…” You’re crying, you don’t know what to say. For years you’ve carried the guilt of Will’s disappearance, and for even longer you’ve done everything you could to ensure that he was loved. That Jonathan was loved. Never once had it felt like a burden to you, but Joyce’s words undoes something in you. “I promise.”

Joyce pulls you into her arms and hugs you, tears in her own eyes. She strokes your hair, hugs you as she’s always done since you were a little girl. She echoes the final words that Hopper told you. “You’re the best of them.”

You’re not sure how long you cry in Joyce’s arms, but when she soothes you and wipes your tears away, she tells you to go find Will. They’re leaving soon, he’ll want to see you, and you wish the woman one final goodbye before going to find her son. 

Will ends up being in the hallway, you find him just after he’s said goodbye to Mike. You note the longing in his eyes, the uncertainty in his posture as his friend leaves. There’s a wistful look on his face, one that you once had on your own when Jonathan was around. Even if Will may not know yet, you do. 

“Hey, little bee.”

He turns around, the softness in his eyes when he sees you makes you homesick. “Y/N!”

Will buries his face in your chest, and you hug him just as tightly back. He’s grown so much since you first met him. He’s no longer the shy little boy who had been afraid of his own shadow, and you can’t believe you won’t get to finish watching him grow up. “I swear, you’re going to be taller than me next time I see you. Won’t be able to call you little bee anymore.”

“I’ll always be your little bee,” Will squeezes you tighter, afraid to let go of you. 

“Good,” you ruffle his hair, making him to laugh. “I’ll miss you, but I’m sure you already know that.”

“I’ll miss you, too.” Will’s voice is wet, more tears come. He pulls away from you, he looks as if he wants to say something, but he stops himself. As if he’s afraid of something.

You frown. “Hey, what is it?”

“I’m scared,” The words rush from his mouth. “What if… What if I don’t make any friends?” He lowers his voice, looks around nervously, before trusting to say the words out loud to you. “I–I’m different, Y/N.”

Will’s fear hurts you to see, you wish you could do more, promise him that it will all be okay, but you can’t. Instead, all you can do is kiss his cheek and hope he can feel all the love you have for him within it. All you can do is remind him that you will love him through it all. “You’re the bravest kid I know. I have no doubt that you’ll be fine. I mean, you’ll have Jonathan and El with you, but if you ever need me, I’m just a phone call away. I love you, and that will never change.”

You stroke the boy’s cheek with your finger, and he leans into the gentle touch. “I’m rooting for you, always.”

Will squeezes you tight when he hugs you for the last time. He thanks you, his body relaxes into yours, and you know that in the end he’ll be okay. He’s a brilliant kid, he’s been through more than anyone else his age ever has. He’s resilient, his kindness is his strength, you just hope that he can recognize that himself one day. 

As you pull away from the hug, Will’s eyes catch on someone, you turn around. It’s Jonathan, standing by the front door, waiting for you. 

It’s time to say goodbye. 

Taking a deep breath, you walk towards him, and Jonathan takes your hand and guides you to the porch outside. Everyone else is still inside, packing. You sit side by side in silence, absorbing the final remaining moments alone with each other. Saying goodbye to your childhood best friend leaves a bitter taste in your mouth. 

A ladybug crawls on a leaf next to you, a bee flies past you and lands on a sunflower nearby, and a bird chirps in the blue sky above. You rest your head on Jonathan’s shoulder, he presses a kiss to your temple. Your fingers interlock and the cool September air surrounds you.

“I made you something,” Jonathan breathes out, clears his throat. He reaches into his back pocket and pulls out a mixtape, its front covered with a piece of paper listing all the songs on it. “I, uh, used the money I won from the betting pool to make it. Dustin was pretty annoyed with me for winning.”

You snort at the image of your brother berating your friend for winning a betting pool about how long it’d take Steve to ask you out. Taking the mixtape from Jonathan, you read the songs. There’s eight songs on it, the first one being a Beatles song from your childhood; you don’t know how Jonathan knew that. Though most of them are familiar, the writing on the paper is old, faded with age. “How long have you been making this, bee?”

Jonathan looks away from you and swallows. “A while, I guess. Listen to it after I leave, okay? That way, if you hate it, I’ll never have to know.” His demeanor is odd, there’s something he’s not telling you, but it’s your last day with him. You leave it alone for now, not wanting to ruin it. 

“You’re not allowed to find a new best friend.” You tell him instead, the silence becoming too much to bear. It’s a joke, though truthfully you don’t want Jonathan to find another best friend. He’s supposed to be yours, only yours, and you’re supposed to be his. 

“I wouldn’t dream of it.” Jonathan lets out a soft laugh, and you’re going to miss feeling the way his body moves as he does so. He sucks in a breath, releases it slowly, and shakes his head. “I mean, we were kids together, bug.”

You start to cry, and he does as well. You’ve never had to say goodbye to each other before. Not like this. The two of you sit on the porch of Jonathan’s childhood home and cry. You cry into his neck, he buries his face into your hair, and it’s all so unfair. 

Jonathan touches his forehead to yours. You look into his eyes and know that your childhood will always live within him, and his within you. Jonathan brings his finger up to your bee necklace, his ladybug ring knocks against the pendant. The jewelry glistens in the sunlight. 

“Bee, we were more than just kids together.”

And it’s true. You were everything together. Now, you have to figure out how to be everything while apart. 

– 

The last of the boxes are placed in the moving van. Everyone is crying, you’re all gathered around one another, hugging and saying goodbye. 

You hold El tight and whisper good luck to her. You remind Will that everything will be okay, knowing how scared he’s been of high school and remorseful that he has to do it all alone. The kids all cry as they share the final hugs, Jonathan and Nancy cry as they hold one another. Everyone says goodbye, and you watch them with tears in your eyes. You turn to Joyce to kiss her cheek, but she grabs your arm instead. 

“Remember what you promised me, okay?” She catches your eye, makes sure you hear what she’s telling you. “Live the life that you deserve.”

“I will,” you exhale, and she seems content with that. Joyce hugs you, kisses your cheek, and you tell her to drive safe as she gets into the van. 

Jonathan stands by his car, waiting for you, and you pull the boy into your arms. He crashes against you, clutches you to his chest, and you breathe him in one final time. “I’ll always love you the most, bee.”

“And I’ll always love you the most, bug.” 

Joyce drives away first, El in the van with her, before Jonathan and Will follow. The car pulls out of its driveway one final time, and you hold Nancy’s hand as you both cry. Slowly, their cars fade into the distance, and one by one the kids hop on their bikes and pedal away. No one wants to stay, the empty house feels too permanent, solemn. Eventually Nancy gets into her own car, wishing you a quiet goodbye, until it’s just you and your brother standing in front of the house. 

Dustin stays beside you, as he always does, and you take a deep breath. Nothing will ever be the same again. 

You take one last look at the Byers home, the house you grew up in and discovered pure love and joy and naivety in, and inhale the final scent of your childhood. Dandelions are in bloom, its yellow surrounds the home, soon they will wilt and its seeds will litter the sky

Joyce’s words ring in your head.

It’s time to live the life that you deserve. You’re on your own now, though you know that really you aren’t. Dustin is next to you, Steve and Robin are waiting at your house with movies stolen from work because they knew how hard today would be. Your mother has your favorite cookies ready and waiting for you. Mike and the others have already planned their first letter to Will. 

The charm bracelet from the party and Steve is cool against your wrist. 

You’re no longer the scared, angry twelve year old you had been when you first moved to Hawkins. You’re loved, you have so many incredible people in your life who now get to watch you grow up into someone new. 

Slowly, you exhale your childhood, with a single promise of keeping it within you forever. To live the life that Joyce has told you that you deserve.

And you believe her. 

[END OF SEASON THREE]

-

⌑ series masterlist

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[seratopia]

miguel o'hara x reader (fluff) - please? → she/her pronouns!

miguel begs you not to get out of bed

By far the highest blessing you could receive in the morning is Miguel O'Hara's morning voice.

Deep, gravelly, and sparse, Miguel's morning voice always manages to send chills down your spine, especially when you're nothing but a hair's width apart from his chest.

You can feel his heart slowly beat against your cheek, his chest rising and falling to the sound of his breathing. Waking up to a face full of chest has been unexpectedly, one of the numerous highlights of your day.

Slowly, your eyes flutter open, and it takes you a moment to come to your senses. He smells nice, a reminder of the shower gel you keep in your bathroom for when he visits.

Miguel's almost too big for your bed; he takes up your space, barely fits the comforter, but you love him anyway. You really don't know how, or why Miguel chooses to sleep with you in your tiny little bed, but you don't complain.

"Amor."

His wording rumbles from the deepest parts of his throat, and you can feel the vibration of his voice against your ear. You squirm a little, tiny noises escaping your mouth as you make yourself just a little more comfortable.

"Mmmph... what time is it?" You murmur into his skin, savoring the warmth he omits.

Miguel lazily rests his heavy arm over you, running his abnormally large hand over your back. He presses a darling kiss into your hair, humming. It's only you who gets to see him like this, all sleepy-eyed and touchy beyond repair. You try to savor this version of Miguel as possible, knowing that he has to be someone else when he's at work.

Miguel keeps a single arm on you while you try to bend your arm in impossible ways, twisting and turning your limb to try to reach your phone on the bedside table. Eventually it works, and you manage to slip your phone into your fingers before you dislocate your arm.

"It's 9:23..." You breathe, sighing before turning your phone back off and placing it next to your pillow.

Miguel's pulling you in like a magnet, snuggling you like a puppy would a teddy bear. He's just too cute like this, hands and legs roaming around your body for something to squeeze. As much as you absolutely hate to let go of him, duty calls.

"Miguel... we have to go to work."

He can hear the distaste in your voice, reminded of the agonizingly long spread of cleanup, the idea of people bothering him, the mediocre food at the cafeteria. (Except for the empanadas, lmao)

Miguel doesn't want to go to work today, and he doesn't think you do either. Wearing a skin-tight supersuit just wasn't it today.

"Noo...." Miguel whines, strengthening his arms around you. You have to tap on his arm, just so enough air can find it's way back to your lungs again.

"Miguel, we have a job to do." You say, rubbing the sleep away from your eyes. You hear him groan into your hair, your mind practically going blank at the sound of his intense morning voice.

We mUST stay focused brothers, we must stay focused!!!

Almost like every morning, you begin your wrestle for freedom, pushing at his forearms wrapped tight over you. It's almost like you forget that Miguel's a superhuman Spider-Man. Stubbornly, he keeps his lazy stance, ignoring your tiny pushes and shoves.

"Oh my gosh, Miguel. Let me go. If you don't go to work, I will." You curse, squirming and kicking yourself in all sorts of directions.

He shakes his head again, eyes closed shut and nose still in your hair.

It was only a matter of time before you'd tire yourself out.

And you did.

Miguel's got the shittiest, most satisfied grin on his face, and all you can do is scowl at him. Still, he hasn't let go of you, and now you're convinced he wont let you go until the end of the day.

As much as Miguel was stubborn, you were too. You have a final ace up your sleeve, and hopefully it'll save both Jessica and the kids from disarray in the office today.

Miguel's face starts to melt down a little when you flutter your eyelashes at him, shoving your face into his chest and pressing a sweet little kiss between his pectorals.

It's like the satisfaction from Miguel transferred over to you, and Miguel is left speechless as you trail your way up to his clavicle, nipping and kissing at the surface of his skin.

"Let me go, please?" You ask, specifically in the tone of voice that you know Miguel loses his shit over.

His voice is hitched in his throat, ears turning scarlet as his grip around you starts to loosen.

"I... honey-"

The moment you reach his neck, Miguel know's he's done for, a chill running down his neck and back. It makes him all hot, his mind being wiped clean like a whiteboard. Just for the funsies, you kiss his pulse point a little, wrapping your own arms around his neck.

Utterly, Miguel melts, the sweetest, poutiest expression on his face like he doesn't know what to.

You win.

While you still can, you slip out of Miguel's grip, your feet finally meeting the carpeted floor. Miguel realizes your little act, grumbling and pouting to himself as he relishes the disappearance of your warmth.

"If you come to work, we can do more..." You tease, trotting off to your bathroom with a chuckle.

Reluctantly, the man rises from your bed, the boards creaking under his weight. (One day, he's gonna break your bed, somehow.) He follows after you, running his hand through his messy bedhead.

"Coming, sweetie."

© 𝒔𝒆𝒓𝒂𝒕𝒐𝒑𝒊𝒂.

[rafeysbafey]

✮ WE THOUGHT GHOSTFACE GOT TO YOU —ETHAN LANDRY

SUMMARY. you don’t realize how loud you were with ethan until you see the group.

WARNINGS. MDNI, smut under cut, fem!reader, dom!ethan, degrading, language, fluff, mentions of gf

WORD COUNT. 0.3k

ethan was pounding into you at a relentless pace, his hands gripping your hips painfully as his nails dug into the soft skin.

your head was thrown back against the pillow as you cried out in pleasure, his cock hitting a certain spot just right causing strings of moans to escape your lips.

“you like that, slut?” he spat, one hand leaving your waist to grab your chin and force you to look at him.

your pupils were blown and tears stained your cheeks as you stared up at him.

“you like being my little fuck toy?”

you could only nod, your mind foggy and throat scratchy from all the screaming you had done.

he didn’t seem satisfied with your answer, his thrusts stilling for a second so he could loop his hands under your legs and yank you closer to him.

his cock practically penetrated your insides, ethan bringing you impossibly closer as his tip forced its way into your cervix.

“say it,” he growled, not daring to move as you wiggled against him, desperate for some type of friction.

“p-please,” you sobbed, grabbing his hands that held your legs as you scratched at them, needing him to move.

“i’m y-your little f-fuck toy.”

a dark grin took over the boys features as he hummed in approval, eyes falling to your cunt that was practically squeezing the life out of him.

he started to rock his hips into you slowly, a satisfied moan leaving your lips as your walls clung onto him tightly.

before you could process what was happening next, he dragged his cock almost completely out of you before slamming back in, causing you to cry out in pleasure.

“gonna make you cum so hard,” he panted, leaning down to burry his face into your neck and bite gently at the skin, “you wont be able to walk for days.”

your stomach formed into the all-too-familiar knot as your walls tighten around his cock, feeling every vein and detail that decorated it.

“cum.” was the last thing you heard before your vision went dark and your body shook, toes curling against the sheets as ethan released inside of you.

you don’t know how long you were out for, but when you woke up, ethan was dressed and cleaning you up.

your legs were parted as he ran a wet wash cloth over your pussy, causing you to jolt and let out a whimper.

“n-no more,” you whispered, ethan’s dark eyes softening as he was quick to assure you.

“just cleaning you up, darling.”

you let him finish before watching him grab a pair of clean boxers and a t shirt, both belonging to him.

he came over and helped you put the boxers on, your hips raising to help him slide them on easier before he did the same with the shirt.

you let out a sigh of approval at the smell of him that lingered on the shirt, feeling immediate comfort.

“i think the others will be here any second,” he said, running a hand over your face and through your hair as you leaned into his touch.

you allowed him to help you up, your legs immediately shaking and an uncomfortable pain running down them as you whimpered softly.

“did i go too hard?” he asked, no trace of teasing in his voice as he looked at you concerned.

this was the ethan you fell in love with, the nerdy—sweet boy that you sat next to in econ in the beginning of the year.

you quickly shook your head, offering him a small smile as you assured him.

“all good,” you smiled, letting him wrap an arm around your waist and walk you out of his room.

your eyes practically fell out of your head when they landed on the group—chad, sam, tara, and quinn all scattered around the living room.

“don’t tell me-” you mumbled, cut off by tara who couldn’t help but laugh as she spoke.

“yep.”

your face flushed red as you buried it in ethan’s chest, too embarrassed to face the group at knowing they had heard you two.

although you couldn’t see, you knew ethan was wearing a shit eating grin—no embarrassment found on his features.

“trust me, it wasn’t all sunshine and butterflies for us either,” chad mumbled, the group laughing before he joked—

“we thought ghostface had got to you.”

[jjkprncss]

TALKIN' DIRTY - NANAMI KENTO

CONTENT WARNING: rough(ish) sex, praise

819 pm, Los Angeles Ca

"you want me to call you a slut? yn dear .." the blonde man swiveled his chair around, now facing you. he sat his papers down to the side before removing his glasses.

you and kento have been together for almost a year now, and of course he's the breadwinner. he isn't against you working, but he'd rather you focus on your studies to not over-stress yourself. the sex life was good, but vanilla. you lost your virginity to kento, so you expected the same thing every few weeks. lights off, slow pace, couple of kisses, orgasm, more kisses, and then you'd two call it a night.

"It's okay ken, I know you don't mean it. if youre not comfortable that's okay-"

"I'm fine with it. it's just out of the ordinary ... where did you come up with this?" kento stood up, pushing his chair back into his desk. you leaned against the door frame of his office, tilting your head up as he walked towards you. "twitter! I want you to ask me questions like, if it feels good, and to tell you how good it feels!" you smiled, jumping from excitement.

he raised his eyebrow, looking down at you. kento let out a small sigh, biting his bottom lip, his hands now resting in his pockets. "okay I don't mind doing any of that, I just don't want to hurt you love" he pulled your face closer to his, pulling you in for a kiss. his touch was so soft, so gentle. he was never rough with you, always handling you with more care than he would a porcelain doll.

"you wont, I promise kenny. I can take it" you held his hand near his face before he pulled yours up to his lips for a small kiss. how sweet.

902 pm, Los Angeles Ca

"I thought you could take it yn? I thought you wanted me to fuck you like this? I'm giving you what you want you should be thankful" kento groaned, pushing your legs behind your head, holding down your thighs.

SLAP SLAP SLAP

your tits bounced from the aggressive movements, earning lewd moans escaping between your lips. "I ... I ammughhh" you slurred, rolling your eyes back from the sensation. he slowed down, pressing his hand on your lower stomach, his free hand now grabbing your jaw forcing eye contact. "you feel that? dick in your stomach, feels good doesn't it pretty girl?"

you bit your lip, clawing at your boyfriends bare back. "mmghh ... yes ssirrr" kento left trails of kisses along your jawline as the pace of his hips increased, wet noises and moans now filling the air. "you like this don't you? you like being a slut for me, don't you? you're being so good for me" he whispered, snaking his hand over to pinch your nipple.

"yess ... sirrrr" you grabbed onto his waist, forcing him deeper inside you. "princess, you're so wet for me. look, I want you to watch this dick go inside this pretty pussy" he cooed, his thumb now creating small circles on your swole nub. you supported yourself on your elbows, looking down at his thick shaft sweetly easing in and out of you. the sight of his dick inside you made you drool; the way he was acting overall made you ballistic.

"f ... fuck ... so good my love, your pussy is so good to me. I wanna see you cum for me" kento licked his lips, placing his hand back down onto your stomach.

SLAP ... SLAP ... SLAP

you closed your eyes, digging your bright pink nails into the palm of your hands. he scoffed, speeding up the thrusts of his hips into yours. "let me see that pretty face baby, don't close your eyes. keep taking this dick like a good girl yn"

[rubywithecat]

Tokyo revengers boys when you ignore them after one night stand (pt.1)

Mikey

-he almost doesnt recognize you

-when he senses the familiar scent when you passed through him, he couldnt help but turned his head

-"Hey wait" he called out. "do i know you?"

-U frozed. "I dont know you..." u lied. He walked to face you and looked you carefully. U broke the eye contact and excused yourself.

-he grabbed your hand which made your body gravitated toward his chest

-"your a bad liar" his lips nearly toucing yours. "plz dont ignore me. ive been searching u everywhere"

Ran Haitani

-He thought he would just forget you as like he does for many women who he had slept with

-But something about u made him craving u more, maybe cuz of ur innocence (u were a virgin)

- U were going to ur class when u heard a smiliar voice, u quickly hide when u caught a glimpse of him

-he was on his phone and he seemed to like noticed that u hide, he smirked

-"Rindou, I will call u back" he closed his phone and walked toward where u were

-ur heart was beating so fast and u just prayed he would passed through and closed ur eyes

-"Found ya" he whispered, loud enough for u to hear. "U who snaked away from me after i gave u ur first best night ever. Don’t u think it’s a lil bit unfair to me?” he grabbed ur waist as if he could read ur mind about escaping

-"u cant run away from me second time, Miss"

Chifuyu Matsuno

-He tried to forget about what happened that night and didnt even think he could meet u again

-when he saw u at the mall, he was about to call u out but he saw u with a kid, he thought its ur kid

-he didnt try to talk with u anymore cuz he doesnt wanna be a threat to ur marriage or smth

-u also saw him but u were too nervous to go and talk cuz u liked that guy so much “what if he doesn’t remember me? I would just embarrass myself” u whispered to urself

-as u guys parted, u were sad and hopeless

-"hey (kid name), i need to use toilet. dont go anywhere before i come back,okay?' u bent down to the kids height and smiled.

-"Yes” he replied cutely. "Good boy." u told him and go to toilet quickly.

-just a hen u come back, u saw him talking to a guy so u rushed quickly.

-"how old r u?" u could hear slightly. "i am 8" ur nephew answered.

-"what did i tell u (kid name)?Dont talk to random--' u scolded him before realizing that guy

-"he just saved me from some bad guys who tried to steal our shopping bags" ur nephew answered.

"Oh god" u sighed and turned back to him, but dont dare to look at him. "Umm... thank u for saving my nephew..." u said awkwardly.

-He was stunned but he felt relieved and glad that he wasn’t ur son

-U were about to walk away when he started to talk, "Im sure we met before, right?"

-U looked back at him and he was smiling at u and it was not a question. He remembered u and will not let u go anymore

Hanma Shuji

-From the moment he saw u, he couldn’t lie to himself that he fell in love with u

-Whenever he fcks someone he always think about u

-He was pissed that u left him after s*x without even leaving ur number

-He tried his best to forget u

-u didnt expect to meet a one night stand u met last year at the club u work

-Ur not like a stripper or anything like that. U work as a waitress there as u have no choice to pay for ur collage

-U quickly covered ur face as he walked passed through

-"maybe he wont even remember me at all. It was long time ago" u relieved. But then he stopped.

-"Hey" he called u. "Wtf- plz don’t remember me" u mumbled. U dont wanna invlove in gang things so its best to stay away

-"Do u know where are vip rooms?" he asked u

-"Uh— it’s at ur left, sir" U didnt dare to look back and just answered nervously, hoping he doesn’t see ur face

-U stared at u from behind for a sec and then walked away, smoking.

-“U see that girl over there? Bring her to my room” he ordered the waiter

-“Sir, I’m afraid she’s just a waitress and doesn’t do that kind of thing ya know…” the waiter answered, afraid “I- could suggest u the best beautiful stripper in our club. I’m sure u will be satis—“ before he could finish his word, he was punched to the ground.

-“Useless shits” he mumbled as he looked down and wiped the blood strain on his ring “Bring her to me” he said and left as he threw sone cash to the waiter face.

-U entered the dim light room, written “VIP” cuz ur coworker begged u so u empathized him

-“Were u searching for me?” U said impatiently and faked to be confident when u were trembling inside. “Look, just to be clear, im not interested in sleeping with u. I just come to tell u that so plz leave me alone and my coworkers, sir”

-Hanma just laughed helplessly as he finds that cute and as u were about to leave, he tightly hugged u from behind and kissed ur neck, leaving a mark

-“Who said I care whether ur intreated or not?” he smirked. “U were already mine. Don’t u dare run away from me… please?” His voice changed. It was the first time he begged for someone and u also feel that part of u just can’t resist him

—

A/N: Hi! Welcome back y’all! <3 So, I have been disappearing for a long time cuz of final exam and now it’s over so I can finally write back and have a lot of ideas that I wanna share with u guys. <3

Sorry for not being able to respond the requests but now that I’m free, I will be open to ur requests again! :*

And I hope u guys like this one and any supports are very much appreciated, loves <33

—

[airbendertendou]

SOMETHING SOMBER TO MiSS! ♥︎ chishiya shuntaro

synopsis : three years after breaking up, your ex-boyfriend seems appalled by how you've changed, and the new company you keep.

recomended songs — exes, tate mccrae ; bibi vengance, bibi ; diablo, lexie liu ; 505, arctic monkeys

cw ; typical aib death nd gore ; reader is a physical fighter nd i wont apologize abt it ; the militants themselves lmao ; oblivious reader who holds everyones attention <3

TAGLIST : @chaotickyrith @valleyofheartz

♧ ♡ if you have a blank blog [no bio, no user, no header or profile pic, nothing reblogged, etc] do not interact with my content. you will be blocked. ♢ ♤

— ♧ ♡ ♢ ♤ —

Oil fries in the pan as you flip the meat you're cooking, the side dishes already prepared and ready to eat. You hum with a nod, satisfied with the spread you've cooked — happy the recipes you read came in handy and turned out well.

The front door slides open and a smile falls onto your lips unconciously. You don't turn from the stove as you speak, "welcome home, Shuntaro!"

He grunts in response, kicking his shoes off and throwing his work bag to the side. Sliding up beside you, Chishiya eyes the food you cooked curiously, nodding his head the way you did earlier. You grin, "hard day? Did they let you work with patients today?"

"Still a student, technically," he responds. Chishiya grabs the cutlery you need, filling one cup with your drink and the other with his own. He grabs one of the dishes, absentmindedly setting it on the table. "Proabaly won't be around people for a while still."

You frown, following behind him. "That sucks. You're the smartest person in that building."

The left side of his lips quirk up, "thank you."

Hitting his arm lightly, you can't fight your own grin. "As if I needed to inflate your ego anymore."

The only sound is your eating — conversation with Chishiya never felt needed. You often found comfort in his silence ; found it easy to be in his presence. When your food is finished and you're washing the dishes, you notice him lingering in the doorway. You let him take his time — sometimes, your boyfriend simply needed a moment or two before his thoughts could escape his head.

But, he never spoke up. Chishiya simply stood there, staring at you and through you simultaneously. You blinked at him, hands still soapy, "everything okay, 'taro?"

“Let’s break up.”

You pause, a wobbly smile masking the strain in your throat. You face him fully, “what?”

“Let’s break up.” He doesn't meet your eyes as he speaks. He looks over your shoulder — looks to the pictures of you together throughout the two years you'd been dating.

“…why?” You wipe your hands dry, hoping to hide how they tremble. Chishiya eyes them through furrowed eyes — he noticed. You hide them helplessly anyways.

He shrugs passively, “I’m bored.”

“And nothing I say will change your mind?” It's now that he meets your gaze. It's dark — empty as he looks at you. Ice crawls into your chest, settling there as your breathing begins to get heavy. You nod slowly and look to the floor. “Okay. Let’s break up, Chishiya.”

You hope the sound of his last name burns him as much as it did you.

— ♧ ♡ ♢ ♤ —

Music hits the pool area as you walk out, nodding to the beat you hear. Grinning at those you're familiar with, you perk up at your chosen group. The ones who brought you in when you were lonely.

"Ni—ra—gi!" you sing as you approach him. Sat on his lap is a girl with her bikini top slipping down slowly. Her lipstick is smeared and her cheeks flushed as her eyes widen at your voice. "Oh, am I interrupting?"

Niragi glares — he's really just hiding his laughter, "you always do. What do you want?"

You hum slyly, going behind the girl to settle her bathing suit correctly. Her breathing picks up and her hips twitch at your touch — Niragi hides his snort. "Have some newbies Hatter is welcoming. Wanna check 'em out?" You bend so that you're eye to eye with the stranger, "or keep having fun instead?"

With a squeak, the girl practically launches from Niragi's hold and skitters away. You blink owlishly, "was it something I said?"

Niragi's loud, boisterous laughter leaves a trail as you sneak into the secret meeting. Aguni eyes you before rolling his eyes discreelty and tuning back into what Hatter is saying. It's the same spiel you were given — this was a free paradise that only called for your loyalty. Loyalty being the cards you earned every game, of course.

If someone was going home, it was going to be Hatter first and foremost.

You eye the trio standing in the middle of the room, watching as the shorter male fidgets. He glances around — meets your gaze and gulps. He mutters to the girl he’s with, tugging on the end of his shirt.

Grinning, you lean close to Niragi and lower your voice to a whisper. “Traitor.”

“Them?” He raises an eyebrow, incredulous. “You really think?”

You put your hand out, “wanna bet?” Niragi clicks his tongue as you wiggle your fingers, insisting he shakes your hand. “Hm?”

He shoves your hand away, “never making a bet with you. Not again.”

As the meeting concludes, you grin widely.

Your name is called as Hatter beckons you forward. He leans on the desk in front of his card display, grinning as his top men join him. He gestures grandly, his arms open wide. "Liking your promotion?"

It's a silent nod to the gun strapped to your thigh — to the absence of a bathing suit. Aguni crosses his arms lightly, sticking his chin out. You grin — recently, it's starting to look more and more like Niragi's teasing smile than anything like yours. "It's fun enough."

Hatter laughs loudly at your words. He nods his head, "rumor has it you could beat any of my militants, anyways. Would rather have you on our side — on my side."

Niragi slings an arm around your shoulders as he hums in agreement. "Not a good idea to get on this one's bad side. I've seen it — scary shit."

Hatter cackles again as Mira eyes you now. She tilts her head a little, deciding to speak up. "Wonder where that temper of yours came from."

You simply grin again, closing your eyes with a sweet facade. "An old friend. That's all."

— ♧ ♡ ♢ ♤ —

When he's recruited to the Beach, Chishiya isn't sure what to think. The man he was partnered with was lasered at the last second, leaving Chishiya in a remaining duo. The woman — Rei, she said — eyed him warily before nodding.

An unspoken rule of the Beach was the ability to bring more people in — more cards in.

It's a loud place, music booming and people cheering as if they aren't in danger. In the entry way of the hotel, there's a small crowd gathering, whooping and jeering. Chishiya unknowingly strays closer to the circle and away from his tour guide.

In the middle, a man with his hair half-up is laughing loudly. His arm is around someone else as they stand over the bleeding lump of a person on the floor. As he laughs, Chishiya can see the shine of a tongue ring gleaming in the lights. His arm is tapped and he's dragged back to the introduction of everyone.

For a second, though, Chishiya thought he caught a glance of you.

Hatter calls for a meeting, as he usually does to welcome newcomers. Niragi stands with his gun slung over his shoulder — Chishiya squints his eyes, thinking of how familiar he looks before his attention is taken.

A long, lanky figure begins to speak to Aguni. The only indication of the conversation is the raise of his eyebrows — he seems surprised by something. Aguni's lips part, as if he's going to speak, before he eyes Hatter and his mouth falls shut.

The door behind him opens and Chishiya feels cold. A shiver runs down his spine, trickling in line with the sweat that's built up. He keeps his eyes to the ground, as if he subconciuosly knows danger is around. A sharp, musical lilt of someone humming interupts the meeting in the room.

"The traitors," it can't be, "have been taken care of, your highness."

Stock-still and frigid Chishiya stands as you come into view. You look different — it's been three years — a wide, estranged grin on your face as you ignore the blood dripping down your face. Niragi saunters up to you, "the hell happened?"

"Had a knife," you let out an annoyed breath, sweeping at the cut above your eyebrow. "Not a very good one, though."

Hatter's laughter calls everyones attention back his way. His grin is just as wide as yours — just as corrupted and red. "Thank you, [Name]! For your sacrifice, the Beach will live another day."

You simply bow your head before standing with Aguni — the militants, Chishiya remembers.

Tilting his head, the blond secretly looks you over. You'd gotten toned — leg and arm muscles built and presenting themselves nicely in your shorts and shirt. You stood relaxed, surrounded by numerous weapons and threatening figures had no impact on you at all. Maybe you were part of that threatening crowd now — part of the fear that clung to the Beach.

Chishiya wondered if you'd noticed his differences as well — his longer, lighter hair and how he slouched more when he stood. He wondered if you'd even seen him in the first place.

Sharp, animalistic eyes catch his gaze. The lanky, tattooed figure watched him before saying something to the pierced one from before. Chishiya shot his eyes away before either had the chance to see him staring.

— ♧ ♡ ♢ ♤ —

"Seem to have caught the newbies attention." Niragi speaks casually as you roam the hallways. He lets out a snort, rolling his eyes and head until he's looking at Last Boss.

Last Boss grins, "always do."

You curl your nose, swatting away the rifle Niragi holds on his shoulder — it'd bounced your way one too many times. "We had a newbie?"

Standing in disbelief, Last Boss pauses in the middle of the hallway. He looks Niragi's way, mouth parted in shock before he's slowly shaking his head. "[Name], you are..."

"Something," a feminine voice speaks up. The girl is with a crowd of three, her eyes trailing up and down your body slowly. She turns to wink your way as her friends scatter. "Something, truly!"

With a giggle, she's gone.

Before they can comment, a bell is tolled, signaling the time for games. Niragi lets out a huff, following behind as you wrap your arm in Last Boss'. A stranger allowed their attraction for you to overcome their fear for everyone else. You had to be magic.

— ♧ ♡ ♢ ♤ —

You had to be magic.

It was a spade's game, to Chishiya's disinterest. He'd made an acquaintance — Kuina agreed on wanting to leave before Hatter, and had a history of combat. She would be useful in these games — except, they switched games at the last minute.

Chishiya couldn't have regretted it more.

You seemed to be the star of the show, everyone focused on you as your fellow militants grinned ferally. Poser — a four of spades where one player selected was not who they said they were. It should've been a hearts game, maybe diamond.

Said player could only be exposed by the color of their 'blood'.

Everyone was given a heavy, white t-shirt full of paint. Red meant you were human — blue meant you were an imposter. Chishiya gulps at the display in front of him. The red staining your skin wasn't just paint — he looked down apathetically at the two half-concious people who'd taken you on beforehand.

"You." A friend of yours is looking his way, at his pristine, unstained shirt. They tilt their head, "let us see your insides, hm?"

Letting out a huff, you swipe the sweat off of your forehead. Three others have joined you in your battle — think some of these people are actually dead. Standing straight, you see a newer militant cornering someone ahead. Shrugging, you saddle up beside them to help.

Your voice dies in your throat.

Dark, almost empty eyes meet yours and you hold back a gag. They shine sparsely, with disgust, maybe empathy and the smallest hint of regret. Your fist clenches around your trusty knife, praying to it that your voice won't break. "...Chishiya."

He almost jumps when he notices your attention on him. The stray militant has joined into the clump of fighters feet away — it's only the two of you once more. He lets out a breath, "[Name]..."

Your fist connects with his cheek before you can think. Chishiya stumbles back — doesn't have time to guard himself before you're nailing your fists into him once again. Your knees connect to the floor harshly as you go down, following his body as he collapses.

How dare he call you so casually? So lovingly? Your swing misses — Chishiya simply stares up at you. How dare he come into the world — this solace of sorts and destroy the walls you'd built? How dare he — three years later — still linger on your tongue and in your thoughts?

A choked, staggered sob leaves your lips as the voice overhead chimes.

"Game complete!"

Chishiya is still laying on the ground as you stand on wobbling legs. His eyes are half-lidded, hazy as he gazes at you, stock still. The red under his broken nose copies the red bleeding from his shirt. Not the traitor this time, at least.

You let out another sob before turning, grabbing the card and leaving the game.

— ♧ ♡ ♢ ♤ —

a part two is already in the works! have to figure out a definite plot, is all <3 if you’d like to be tagged in this series or any other aib work, let me know!! ♥︎

airbendertendou © do not copy, plagiarize, repost, or translate my content on any platform. if you see my content under any other name than my own, let me know. i only have this tumblr and an ao3 account under the same name.