#its at least something to put on my resume

[durrtydawg]

The Sadir Inheritance

{Sam Drake x F!Reader} Chapter 6 | 'We just need a lead.'

masterlist ✨

Chapter 1 | Chapter 2 | Chapter 3 | Chapter 4 | Chapter 5

HA! it's been two and a half years. On we move. I've done this trek. It's a killer. oh! also! someone sent me an ask about what Scott looks like in my head but i accidentally deleted it!! I kind of see... Adam Martin from Yellowjackets, but with sliiiightly lighter hair. Hehe. Enjoy xox

CW: none - just bad language and poor writing skill as per x

Word count: 4.2k

Sam is no stranger to a sleepless night. His mind is far too practised at dredging up the past when he least wants it.

It usually takes hours of distraction - thumbing through a dog-eared old book, nursing a bottle, researching an obscure lead - just to dull the edges enough to finally let his guard down.

Tonight, though, none of that seems to be working. It’s a frustrating complication that he’s not prepared to deal with.

He paces by the window a few times, peeling back the blinds now and then to stare out at the quiet pool where they'd been just an hour before.

At one point, he lingers longer.

His eyes travel up a few floors to a balcony above, where he spots a figure. A man, alone, perched on a cheap plastic chair and staring down at his phone screen, his face faintly illuminated by its bluish glare. There’s something familiar in the man’s posture - the way he slouches over his screen, his movements slow and deliberate, like he’s waiting for something, tapping his thumb impatiently against it.

Sam feels an odd flicker of relief. He’s not the only one unable to sleep tonight, pacing through quiet unrest. The man raises his head, and Sam watches him scan the pool, his expression unreadable, though his gaze seems to linger on the spot where they'd been sat earlier. Sam watches, noticing the man’s hand twitch as he slips his phone into his pocket and rises, crossing to the open door with measured steps.

But then the man’s stare shifts down, as if sensing he’s being watched, and for the briefest moment, Sam is certain he catches his eye. The guy stiffens, his expression hardening, and then he quickly turns away, vanishing back into the shadowed interior of his room.

The movement draws Sam’s curiosity - maybe even suspicion. He frowns. He’s just a man, standing on a balcony in the middle of the night. And Sam's exhausted. It's probably just a case of sleepless paranoia, he tells himself.

Still, the nagging feeling remains, scratching at the edges of Sam’s awareness as he draws the blinds and steps back from the window.

The air in his room feels stifling, despite the low hum of the aircon coming from above him.

His eyes drift to his open cigarette packet lying nearby, though he doesn’t reach for it. Sam’s jaw clenches.

The laptop on the dressing table glows back to life as he resumes his half-hearted research, skimming through what he can find on Karam Sadir and the Petra excavation records. The icy screen hurts his eyes. 

He squints with a tut.

It’s already at its lowest brightness setting. Nathan told him how to put some weird orangey filter over it once that made his eyes sting less but he can’t remember how to do it.

With a resigned huff, he slumps back in his chair, eyes tracing the waves of moonlight stretching across the ceiling.

It's a big place, and they're yet to find a starting point. This is the sort of work he’d normally sink his teeth right into, let it pull him away from whatever anxieties were clawing at him - but right now, it’s all blurred words and faded images. A distraction, just enough to keep his mind occupied, but annoyingly not enough to pull him away from the nagging ache that's been festering in his gut for the past sixty minutes or so.

He glances down at the last line he highlighted on the Sadir’s contributions to Petra and any sites surrounding, but the words bleed together, slipping through his tired brain. Not that they matter much, anyway - he’s hardly taking any of it in.

“Jesus Christ.” He mutters to no one but himself.

The heel of his hand rubs up and down his bare chest, before his fingers dig into his shoulder. He instinctively glances down, wincing at the tightness of his muscles.

He finds himself drifting again as he massages out a knot, thoughts pulled back to that playful glint she always seems to have when she’s testing his patience. It hasn’t taken her long to develop a knack for it. It’s all just fun and games, surely. Her shit-eating grin as she poked his star tattoo - she’d dug her nail in - for a second, it hurt. The slight pause after he’d joked about ‘getting with each other’. The way her weight felt in his arms, just in those fleeting seconds, warm and soft and... The knot pops and he rubs his temples, frustrated at his own wandering mind, forcing himself back to the screen.

He’s been down this road before, the signs all too familiar. It starts innocently enough, with a look or a laugh, but then it starts to unravel and tug at something more… convoluted. And he’d thought he’d kept it buried this time, told himself he was too old for this. That he wasn’t about to go entertaining thoughts he’s got no business having. Idiot.

With a muttered curse, Sam slams the laptop shut.

She’s young, lively, with a way of seeing the world that he’s not sure he ever had despite it being his everything . And it’s precisely that, he tells himself, that has him so twisted up. He admires her optimism. That’s it.

He pushes his way into the bathroom and flips on the faucet, splashing water onto his face. The cold shock helps. Not.

He stares at himself in the mirror, and runs a hand over his stubbled jaw, flexing it as if it might somehow make him look a decade younger.

Sam’s hardly insecure by nature, but the way Scott had shown up, caught her eye, confident and unruffled, pressed on him, subtly but surely. Add in the difference in age, and suddenly it feels like he’s staring straight at every wasted year that’s passed since his twenties, when he could count on his face and body without thinking twice. For the first time in... well, ever... he feels a small, nibbling urge to check, as if hoping he’d find some sign of that guy looking back at him.

He scoffs, chewing the inside of his cheek for a second before grabbing his toothbrush.

What the hell does it matter anyway? He knows who he is, what he’s been through, and has always been good at not letting those old doubts about himself creep in. So what’s changed?

He squeezes a splodge of toothpaste onto the dampened bristles and brushes, the motions automatic, almost meditative, as if a rinse and scrub will clear out the doubt creeping up from whatever strange feelings he’s caught himself having. He spits, rinses, then finally flips off the light.

Flopping onto the mattress, Sam knows full-well he won’t sleep much, though lying in the dark feels a little more forgiving.

By the time his alarm chimes, he’s showered and dressed, already stubbing out a cigarette on the patio, glancing back to the balcony he saw the man on last night. He swishes his mouth out again, tossing his things together and glancing out the window, trying to shake off the strange mix of anticipation and unease lodged in his chest.

Pushing the feeling down as deep as possible, he shoulders his small backpack, resolving to keep things... professional. Whatever had lingered from last night was just that - last night . He had work to do, and so did she, and Sam’s nothing if not a pro at compartmentalising.

The sound of her door opening beside his quickly followed by soft humming of what he thinks is ' What's Up ' by 4 Non Blondes is his cue.

He stands, cracking his neck as he tries to shake off the drowsy weight clinging to him. 

God, he's tired.

He’ll grab a coffee on their walk down to the site - it's strong here - maybe he'll squeeze in another smoke before they arrive. At least a few hours in the ancient city might give him some clarity, the search giving his mind something concrete to focus on.

He gives himself a final shake, swallowing down the emotions rattling in his chest, and steps out into the hallway.

//

The dust, the heat, the people - it all feels like a heady swirl as you make your way through Petra’s narrow gorges and carefully excavated ruins. You’re somewhere between awe and disbelief, taking photos of every angle, every shadowed crevice and sunlit crack in the rocks and ruins. It feels like the focal point of a pilgrimage, history seeping into your every pore, and you’re so immersed in it all that you’ve been unable to stop yourself from grinning all morning.

You glance back at Sam, who walks with his usual sturdy, slightly impatient stride, his gaze occasionally shifting to the flood of tourists around you. Scott’s beside him, a good-natured, half-smirk on his face as he points out details along the route.

You can’t deny Scott’s enthusiasm - it’s infectious, and he’s been a more-than-capable guide. Occasionally, you notice him stopping to examine a detail, his fingers brushing over the carvings with practised ease, as though he’s been here a dozen times.

You catch sight of Sam a few paces back, his expression shaded by his sunglasses and a slight frown as he stops to read an information plaque. It’s not that he’s being rude exactly - he’s just, well… he’s quieter than usual today. And you can’t quite tell if it’s the heat, the crowds, or something else. His eye line flickers between you and Scott, his mouth pressing into a thin line before he looks away.

“He’s not much of a tourist spot guy, is he?” you murmur to Scott as the three of you veer closer to the start of the steep, winding staircase to the second Treasury.

Scott chuckles. "Eh, I suppose it’s not for everyone,” he says diplomatically. “Probably thinks he’s already seen it all.”

You hum in acknowledgement, and Scott gives you a sympathetic look, before heading a few steps ahead to read another plaque, leaving you and Sam to walk in silence. His stride is relaxed, unhurried, almost apathetic. You want to talk to him, find a way to draw him out of whatever mood he’s in, but every attempt to catch his eye seems to come up short.

A touch of irritation prickles at the back of your mind. Maybe you’ve been a little too enthusiastic, but so what? You give Sam a brief wave as he pulls away from another frame of text with a slight pout, hoping to draw him in, but he only nods, keeping his pace slow and steady.

Fuck it. God loves a trier.

“So,” You say, keeping your voice as light, but not sickeningly upbeat as you make it impossible for him to ignore you. “I take it you didn’t sleep much, either in the end?”

It’s silent for a few seconds before he speaks - he bristles slightly, like you’ve - rightfully - called him out for being weird. 

“Could ya tell?” he says, a touch gruffly, but there’s a hint of something softer in his tone. You shrug, tucking your phone into the pocket of your shorts. “Just… one of those nights, y’know? Too much running through my head.”

It’s hardly a revelation, but there’s an openness to it that he usually keeps under tighter wraps. You nod, shooting him a look of understanding. “Yuck. Those are the worst. All the thinking that gets you nowhere.”

His mouth quirks slightly, almost a smile, but it’s tinged with something closer to defeat. “Right. Problem is, you’d think after all these years, I’d have some sort of trick to shut it all off.”

You let that hang for a moment, the two of you sidestepping a cluster of tourists crowded around a camel sitting, unbothered on the sand. It’s surprisingly… nice, to be let into his world, even if only a crack. He’s always felt so solid, so sure, but there’s something about seeing him unsettled that makes him feel oddly more human. The faint vulnerability catches you off guard, but hell, you'd be lying if you didn't appreciate it. Want it, even.

“Maybe you need more than a trick,” you offer gently, risking a small smile. “Like a change of scenery, or… I dunno, a bit of fresh motivation?”

He glances at you, expression unreadable behind the sunglasses, but there’s a tilt of his head as if he’s sizing you up. “That right?”

“Yeah,” you say, undeterred. “Might be why you’re here. This whole Sadir thing - maybe it’s not just a job. Maybe it’s something more. We just need a lead.” You shrug, trying not to seem too invested, but Sam’s brow furrows, and there’s something searching in his eyes now.

“Hmm.” he hums, a little quieter, his shoulders jostling as if he's chuckling to himself. You're not sure about mirth, though.

He seems about to say something more, but then he pulls himself away, rubbing a hand along his jaw.

"Well, if all else fails, maybe I can arrange a swift frying pan to the back of the head so you can get a good bit of shut-eye."

He actually laughs at this, but before he can respond, Scott calls out to you both from a few steps ahead, a teasing lilt to his voice.

“Hey, are we climbing these steps or chatting the whole day?”

You roll your eyes playfully and turn back to Sam, who gives a resigned shake of his head.

Onto the Monastery Trail. Just under one-thousand craggy rock steps making up a two-plus mile uphill climb. You're not fit. But you hope your enthusiasm will keep it tolerable.

"Cardio time, baby." You say with a click of the fingers, adjusting your backpack straps.

About ten minutes later, you're still motivated but, unfortunately, painfully aware you're nowhere near as fit as the men you're with.

Sam throws a glance back, raising an eyebrow at your silence. “You know, it’s weird hearing you so quiet,” he teases, his tone light but pointed. “What, savin' your breath?” He bares his teeth in a smirk.

“I’m sooo sorry that I’m not... a mountain goat,” you huff, voice drenched in almost as much sarcasm as your forehead is with sweat.

Scott's chuckle that follows is immediate, warm and a bit smug.

The two continue their chatter as they walk, their words punctuated by Sam’s occasional mutter of “show-off” whenever Scott throws in some tidbit about the ancient Nabateans or Petra’s construction. You listen to them as you trail behind, using their conversation to keep your mind off of your burning thighs and sore lungs - ugh the steps are definitely getting steeper.

“So how’d you pick up Arabic? I know Chloe said you both studied for a bit over in... Oman, was it?” Sam asks Scott, curiosity laced with a hint of begrudging respect.

“Yep. Picked it up a little more colloquially while working with a few archaeological digs near Jerash once I'd graduated. Came in handy since most of the crew spoke it. Nailed the basics, then took some proper classes,” Scott replies with a shrug, looking completely at ease as he hikes up the jagged steps. “I find it helps a lot with locals when I can talk to them in their language. Makes people… open up a bit more, you know?”

Sam scoffs lightly. “Gotta say, I'm - Arabic's one I could never get my head 'round.”

“Yeah, I mean my grandfather was stationed out this way in the forties too, so his stories gave me the enthusiasm from childhood.” Scott grins, then glances back at you, still valiantly pressing forward. “Speaking of enthusiasm, how are you holding up, darl'?" He teases, knowing the answer full-well.

You give him an exaggerated glare, wiping your brow. “Stop taking the piss while I can't defend myself.” Great. That sentence alone halved your lung capacity.

Sam just laughs, enjoying your persistence, you hope. “We're almost halfway there. You're doin' fine.”

“Oh, that’s encouraging.” you reply dryly, though she’s oddly glad he’s checking in.

After a long and exhausting climb, you finally reach the top. Well, almost. Just ahead of you, at a ledge overlooking the expanse of Petra, you spot another brief set of steps - the highest viewpoint, accompanied by one of the many Bedouin vendors with a small table set up. A kettle sits in the centre, steam rising into the air, and a small group of tourists huddles around.

You’re drawn to it immediately.

“Gents, this has been… horrible.” You sigh, your heart slowly becoming more steady as you take off your baseball cap and fan your face with it. “I’m gonna grab some tea,” You remove your backpack and take out your little notebook, “read up on a few things, and take in the view. I’ll keep my eyes peeled and come and find you when I can breathe properly… See you in a few?”

//

Sam stands a few paces away with Scott near the stone-hewn monastery, a local tour guide gesturing energetically to a group of tourists they've managed to integrate themselves into (three cheers for the unassuming baseball cap!), prattling facts about Petra’s history. But Sam’s mind isn’t entirely there. He keeps glancing around, his eyes skimming over the thinning crowd, half-listening as Scott peppers the guide with questions about excavation sites and artefacts.

“…so, nothing significant has been found here in recent years?” Scott’s voice is smooth, with that confident tone that always seems to get people to open up. Something about the Australian accent seems to give people who have it an instant boost to charisma. Sam notes the way the tour guide leans toward Scott, clearly charmed and eager to impress.

“No, no. No treasures have been found here in centuries.” The guide’s words are tinged with disappointment, but Scott doesn’t miss a beat, nudging him with another line of enquiry about restricted areas and less-documented sites.

But Sam’s focus wavers as he catches sight of a figure standing further off, hovering by the edge of a ruin. He squints. The person looks familiar, and it takes him a second before recognition dawns - the same guy from the balcony last night.

The man isn’t close enough to be eavesdropping, but he’s angled just enough to appear like he’s watching them, hands stuffed casually into his pockets as he leans against a stone column.

Scott catches Sam’s distant expression and steps closer, brows knitting together in concern. "Hey, mate. You with us?"

Sam’s eyes dart back to him, and he forces a smirk to cover his momentary lapse. "Yeah, yeah, I’m here," he replies, crossing his arms in a show of nonchalance. "Just… thought I saw someone I recognised."

Scott raises an eyebrow, glancing around before shrugging, his usual easy charm returning. He gestures back to the tour guide, who is wrapping up his explanation with an apologetic shrug, obviously not the wealth of information they’d been hoping for.

"So no dice on the inheritance?" Sam asks, slightly relieved to shift his focus back to their original purpose.

"Nah. Just the standard spiel." Scott sighs, offering the tour guide a polite smile before turning back to Sam. "Guess we’ll have to keep digging."

Sam nods, but he can’t shake the feeling that they’re being... watched. He catches a glimpse of the man again, just on the edge of his peripheral vision, standing with his arms folded, half-hidden by a weathered stone column. This time, Sam’s certain it’s the same guy.

"You okay, man?" Scott’s voice cuts through again, sharper this time, his eyes steady and probing.

They're staying in one of the cheapest hotels closest to one of the world's most famous heritage sites. They're bound to come across the same people during their stay. Snap out of it.

"Yeah, I’m fine. Just - long night. Didn’t get much sleep."

Scott studies him a beat longer, and Sam feels a flash of irritation at being read so closely. Scott’s perceptiveness borders on uncanny, the kind of thing that usually annoys him when it’s turned his way. But Scott’s well-meaning smile disarms him.

The silence between them breaks as the missing part of the trio skids to a stop beside them, her energy lifting the tension immediately. She’s practically glowing, a wide grin plastered on her face, notebook in hand, the edges dog-eared and a little torn from use.

“Alright,” she pants, catching her breath as she waves the notebook with an eager grin. "Umm ar-Rasas."

Sam’s lips twitch, grateful for the distraction, while Scott’s face lights up, already leaning in, genuinely interested. 

"Umm ar what ?" Sam asks with a lopsided grin.

She pauses, looking between them both. "Wait - what have you two found?"

"Jack shit." Scott huffs, scratching his neat beard, "Go on, then. Umm ar-"

"Rasas. Yes. The Bedouin bloke was saying-"

Sam’s head whips around, a frown deepening. “You told him we’re looking for something?”

He watches her bristle a little, feeling the bit of accusation he'd thrown at her. “Not exactly. I didn’t spill everything, if that’s what you’re worried about. He saw the name at the top of my page. Got enthusiastic. That's all.”

"So he saw your damn notes?" He asks, sceptically.

She sighs. "Fuck sake, Sam, the word 'Sadir' in green bubble writing hardly told him we're disturbing the peace. A quick mention of my dissertation convinced him to spill."

Sam bites his lip, narrowing his eyes a little. He nods, though he's inexplicably on edge. She clears her throat.

"They're old Roman city ruins - a couple hours from here. Karam had a hand in the start of its excavation. Apparently..." She stops to go over her notes, "him and his wife -"

"Emaan's parents?" Scott interjects, arms folded in interest.

"Yep - they put in a bid for it when official funding for the excavation stopped in favour of Petra. He was convinced there was more there to be found, and wanted to fund it himself."

"So the Sadirs... owned this site?" 

"That's what I've surmised. Yeah. Could’ve used it for anything."

Scott nods, pouting in a way that reads 'not bad'. She lights up. Sam lowers his sunglasses again just in time to roll his eyes.

"I'm going to presume that's our next stop then?" He asks.

"Thought you weren't convinced." She glouts, raising her brows up at him, head tilted.

Sam pinches the bridge of his nose with a sigh. "You're right." He sniffs, nodding. "It's more than we've found."

She gives him a relieved half-smile. It's laced with what he thinks is some sort of sympathy.

"Alright, well," Scott says, thumping them both on the back as he begins to walk ahead of them both, "I'm off to act like a tourist for the rest of the day. We can suss out next steps tonight."

As Scott strides off, blatantly giddy, Sam watches him disappear into the crowd, feeling a momentary pang of relief. But that comfort is short-lived as he glances back at her. She’s still looking up at him, brow slightly raised, waiting for him to say something. It's awkward, but she's unrelenting. A London thing, perhaps? He shifts uncomfortably, a bit too aware of her proximity and the glint of expectation in her crinkled brows. Oh, she's ballsy.

He sighs. “Look, I wasn’t-” He stops himself, catching the slightest hint of frustration flickering across her face. He doesn’t want to make this into a whole thing, doesn’t want to admit outright he might’ve overreacted or sounded harsh. “Just… good work.” he mutters instead, stuffing his hands in his pockets and looking off to the horizon. He can feel the moment teeter on the edge of unresolved tension, and he isn’t quite sure how to balance it.

But she only drops her shoulders and smiles, that same easy, understanding smile that somehow always makes him feel like the asshole in the room. “Don’t worry,” she says, amusement softening her voice. “I didn’t tell him we’re planning to raid his ancestors’ graves. Yet.”

“Glad to know you can keep it subtle,” he mutters, the corner of his mouth twitching despite himself.

The awkward moment stretches, her expression softening as she tilts her head. “Maybe next time you’ll trust me to handle things without…” She trails off, and he braces himself for the jab that never quite lands. Instead, she holds up her phone, grinning, tonguing her teeth. “Actually, if you’re serious about making it up to me, then maybe I’ll settle for a picture.”

He scoffs, shifting his weight. “You serious?”

Her smile is downright playful. “Oh, come on. You owe me at least one nice memory from this godforsaken climb. Besides,” she taps his arm teasingly, “think of it as evidence of the fact that we actually get on very well when you haven't got a pole rammed up your arse.”

Before he can protest, she nudges up beside him, raising her phone, her arm hooked around his shoulders as she leans in. He barely has time to force a smile, but she catches him off-guard - leaning up, she presses her lips to his cheek as the shutter clicks.

The instant it registers, his bravado turns to dust. She steps back, grinning, scrolling through the photo while he’s left blinking, thrown off by the sudden, chaste affection.

“Perfect,” she chirps, giving him a quick wink. “Now, let’s get down from here before I succumb to altitude sickness.”

She heads off, leaving Sam standing there, blinking after her, mind spinning with the confusion of that sudden kiss and how effortlessly she brushed it off. A corner of his mouth twitches as he watches her go.

Ah, shit.

[innovatorbunny]

i finally got a job yaaaaaaaay

[be-good-to-bugs]

i dont WANNA go to work tomorrow

[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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[yuwuta]

PEOPLE TOLD ME ABOUT THE FLAMES, I COULDN’T SEE THROUGH THE SMOKE — MEGUMI FUSHIGURO

cw some kind of college au/boarding school au? this used to be for rodeo station and now just... exists on its own, friends to lovers, megumi has toji and satoru as father figures so are we surprised that he’s a bully and doesn’t really grow out of that phase… anyway, apologies to muta and miwa, 1.3k words

Nobara makes a poor effort to stifle her laughter as Kokichi stomps up to stand in front of you, hair and clothes drenched in chocolate milk, shoes sloshing with each step, and the bandage on the side of his cheek peeling from the wetness.

When you look up at him, you’re unimpressed, and unsurprised, so you resume annotating your lecture notes as if you weren’t interrupted. If Kokichi wanted to stand in a puddle of dripping milk, then so be it—you should have finished your notes yesterday, and you couldn’t get through your other tasks without catching up first.

“Look, I already said I was sorry. I shouldn’t have kept bothering you for your number when you’d already said no,” Kokichi starts, wiping dripping milk from his chin, “Now, will you please call off your guard dog.”

You don’t reply immediately, focused on finishing the last paragraph of the page, much to Kokichi’s dismay, and Nobara’s amusement. He huffs at your silence, frustrated and humiliated, but there’s nothing for him to say or do until you respond. Maybe that’s something he should have considered when he kept trying to talk to you in class. Still, even now, you’re not ignoring Kokichi to embarrass him or string him along; you just want to finish your godforsaken anthropology homework.

“You seem to be under the impression that I can make Megumi start or stop doing anything,” you sigh, put your highlighter down, and tiredly look up at Kokichi, “But I regret to inform you that you’re wrong.”

Kokichi’s nose scrunches in disbelief, an angered hand coming to wave in front of his face, but his dripping clothes result in splashes to his face—and further laughter from Nobara. He sighs out of frustration, trying to put away his pride, but Nobara’s giggling and your nonchalant attitude are really making it difficult for him to take this in stride.

“Okay, you’re fucking with me—and I deserve it, alright? But, Todo already gave me a fucking lecture, Mai won’t look at me, and Megumi is going to rip and stain every single shirt I own at this point.” 

“That sounds like your problem,” Nobara snickers, rolling her eyes when Kokichi gives her a glare. 

“I'd love to help, Muta, but this is out of my control,” you loll, capping your marker, “Maybe try apologizing to Megumi instead of dripping chocolate milk over notes and shoes.”

“Eh? The hell am I apologizing to him for?” 

“You’re the one who pissed him off—how should I know?” you sigh, sliding your pens and markers into your bag, and closing your folder. 

Nobara pipes in to taunt, “You’d better figure it out soon, though. I hear they’re serving spaghetti tomorrow, and that definitely stains.” 

You swear you hear Kokichi growl, but it only makes Nobara laugh harder. The two of them together is a bad combination—Kokichi is easily aggravated, and Nobara easily aggravates. You’re certain that if Megumi weren’t already on his ass, Nobara would have stepped in to bully him just for the fun of it.

Still, you’d rather not have to testify on either of their behalf, so you bid Kokichi a goodbye, offering him your best advice about cleaning milk stains out of white shirts, and drag Nobara by the arm before she can make another quick quip to finally make him snap. 

She’s still laughing at Kokichi’s expense all the way back to your dorm, “As much as I like seeing Megumi pummel Muta, he’s definitely gonna get written up, at the very least, if he keeps it up. Just tell him you’re not mad about it anymore, and he’ll piss off.” 

You stuff your hands into your pockets, “I don’t control megumi. I didn’t tell him to egg Muta’s car, and pour milk all over him. ” 

“Like hell you don’t,” Nobara scoffs, “Kokichi was right about one thing—Megumi’s a doberman on a leash and you’re his owner.” 

“I didn’t even tell him that Kokichi kept asking for my number. I’m pretty sure Todo told Yuuji, and Yuuji told Megumi.”

“Yeah, that’s almost worse,” Nobara huffs, “He’s just moved to protect you out of undying loyalty—it must be nice to have a knight in shining armor. Does he call you ‘my liege,’ when you’re alone? He might as well bow down and kiss your shoes with the way he worships the ground you walk on.”

You know Nobara is teasing. The rhetoric that you have influence on Megumi isn’t new to you, but it’s always confusing for you to hear. You’ve known Megumi since grade school, and one thing you’re certain of is that he does things of his own conviction, and when he’s decided something, there’s little anybody can do to convince him otherwise. He’s the true definition of steadfast, and sometimes you wonder if his beliefs have inadvertently made him gain masochistic tendencies, because you’ve seen Megumi suffer in pain just to prove a point. 

“Megumi’s his own person, and he’s not easily influenced,” you chuckle, “If anything, he’s more of an attack dog—he bites whenever he sees something he doesn’t like.”

“In any case, he’s your dog,” Nobara shrugs. She pauses for a moment, skipping to catch up to you with a scrunch to her face, “I change my mind though, he’s definitely not scary enough to be a doberman. What are the puffy ones—the really small ones that yap a bunch?” 

“Pomeranians?”

She lights up—“Yeah, that’s way more fitting! Plus, he’s got spiky hair like those little mutts, a really bratty, spoiled one too. Gojo probably kept him in his Birkin as a kid.” 

You giggle as Nobara searches for an image to compare to one of Megumi. She goes as far as to make a collage and send it in your group chat for approval, instantly getting a rave reaction from Yuuji, and predictably, no response from Megumi.

Nobara walks you back halfway to your dorm, leaving you on your own to head to the gym to meet up with Yuuji. When you get back to your room, you’re not surprised to already see Megumi inside, sitting snugly on your worn-in couch with a book in hand. It’s Wednesday, so he only had morning classes, and prefers to spend his afternoon studying in solace, usually taking advantage of your larger, empty room to get his work done. He gives you a small wave, enraptured in his reading, and you know better than to try and disturb him, so you take your place on the opposite side of the couch with the remainder of your notes in hand, finally having the peace and quiet to finish your annotations. 

Megumi finishes his chapter before you’re done, but he waits for you, quietly scrolling on his phone so as not to interrupt you. You don’t face him when you speak, keeping your eyes on your notes, and simply stating, “Kokichi apologized.”

You hear him hum. you know he’s looking at you, but you don’t meet his gaze, and do your best to bite back a smile before he asks, “You forgive him?”

You finish your annotations with a final asterisk at the bottom of your page, so you cap the marker, and finally turn to face Megumi. He doesn’t ask a second time, even as you silently observe him, even if your smile is confusing to him.

“I wasn’t ever really upset,” you explain, “It was annoying, but he wasn’t harassing me or anything.” 

He hums again, but it’s not agreeing. “Tsumiki is gonna get mad if you get suspended.” 

Megumi calls your bluff with his hum this time, and you sigh. Tsumiki won’t get mad, because Megumi would never get suspended, not as long as Gojo is around as headmaster.

Megumi turns his body inward, raising an arm to rest his elbow against the cushion of the couch. He lolls his head to rest against his palm, cheek squished, and almost mischievous glimmer in his eye. In this light, you see Nobara’s argument—with sleep-tousled hair and expectant eyes, Megumi looks an awful lot like a puppy waiting for a command. 

It’s cute, until you realize that Megumi is awaiting your command. Is he?—why would he, he’s never been known to listen, and yet, you’re tempted to see if you truly do have him on some proverbial leash, like everyone else seems to believe.

“Megumi,” you call, softly, “He’s learned his lesson, and I’m fine, alright? Leave him alone.”  

Megumi blinks slowly. His features soften, only for a moment, before he’s turned away from you to pick up his book again. He doesn’t respond verbally, doesn’t touch on the topic for the rest of the evening that you both spend studying in your room, but the following day, you walk past Kokichi and Miwa heading into their chemistry lab, and notice a distinct lack of milk or food residue on his clothing or in his hair, so there isn’t anything more to be said.

Megumi is waiting outside of your lecture hall after your last class of the day, offering you a carton of strawberry milk—unopened, and un-thrown. You accept it, reaching up to ruffle his hair as a thank you, and you’re surprised when you feel him move into your touch. He dips his head down a bit further, gently knocking it against yours before straightening up with a sly smile. He nods his head, wordlessly, and turns towards your dorm, ready to walk you back. 

You follow, dazed, as you stab the straw into your milk. You’re a half-step behind Megumi, head clouded with confusing new daydreams about the boy in front of you, and now you can’t help but to wonder if you’re the one left to follow Megumi’s whim, or if he’s just pulling you by his own leash. 

[tragedybunny]

A Little More Than a Nibble - Astarion x F!Reader

Astarion wakes you up at camp looking for a late night snack. You both end up with something a little more. (Fluff, Angst)

Yes I'm on the Astarion train. How can you not love him?

This short is set before Astarion's act 2 confession

Something called to you from the dark, stirring you out of sleep. Fragments of the waking world brushed against your consciousness; a dying fire, a far off owl calling, a presence hovering over you. The cold influx of terror lasts only a moment as you realize the presence is not only familiar but expected at this point. “Are you awake darling?” Astarion’s voice exudes the beguiling charm that’s become so familiar to you, familiar enough you’ve started to catch the hint of artifice that lays behind it.

Sleep-heavy eyes drift open to find him kneeling down next to you, red eyes fixed on you. The deep slumber is hard to shake off and your answer is no more than a drowsy whisper. “I am now.”

“Oh apologies my sweet but I was just wondering if…” He lets the words hang for a moment, waiting for your mind to catch up, to finish the implication. Really though it could only be about one of two things since you’re the one in camp that’s been both fucking and feeding him. And with the ungodly hour, you can easily conclude which it is.

“No luck hunting?” He deserves at least a little teasing for waking you like this.

“Actually I was thinking about you and couldn’t get the taste of you off my tongue. Would you mind terribly if I had just a little taste, just a slight nibble?” Perhaps you’ve been too indulgent with him and he’s grown used to getting his way with you, a habit you really should put to an end. If only the mere suggestion of those teeth at your neck didn’t make you quiver with excitement.

Still, it won’t do to placidly let him have his way every time. “You say slight nibble, and I wake up woozy the next morning. I fail to see what I get out of this little arrangement.”

For a moment, you think you see the slightest hint of hurt at your refusal, before he swiftly resumes his flirtatious persona. “Why, you get my gratitude and affection. Both of which are undying, I might remind you.”

It’s not the honeyed words that convince you, it’s the ghost of an emotion, the possibility of vulnerability, that there’s something beneath the mask he shows everyone, even you. Not that you would really refuse, you’re too far gone for that. Life as the daughter of a noble house of Baldur’s Gate primed you for this, to fall for a man so wrong, and dangerous, and not at all anything you should want. Rebellion after years of complicity, years of forced perfection and crafted smiles, of doing everything expected of you. The Illithid ship had given you a terrible burden, but it had also been more freedom than you’d ever known in your life. Freedom that didn’t necessarily come with inbuilt wisdom. Silently, you throw back the covers, beckoning him into the bed roll beside you. With a satisfied smile, he gracefully slides in, body pressed against yours.

The first time you’d let him do this it had been awkward, sloppy almost, a fact explained by the later revelation you were his first. Now familiarity has led to comfort, intimacy of its own sort. Different than just sex, but no less thrilling. An arm around your waist, he buries his head into the crook of your neck, lips brushing up against it in a gentle kiss first that makes you shiver before the bite.

The sharp ice of those teeth piece your skin and drive into the blood flowing in your veins. Then you feel it, the echo of your blood flowing into his veins. It had frightened you the first time but now it sends a wave of bliss through you. An involuntary sigh escapes you and you know if his mouth wasn’t full, he’d be tormenting you for how much you enjoy it. Arms loop around his shoulders, pulling him tighter against you, as though you are begging for more. You are though aren’t you? You can’t get enough of this, of him.

Drifting away, you lose yourself in him, a sweet surrender to an inexorable pull. As promised though, he’s only taken a taste when he lets up, pulling away, and licking any drops from your skin. The control he’s starting to show is impressive, even if it leaves you yearning for the strange connection of his feeding. Knowing that he never lingers after any encounter between the two of you, you unwrap your arms which feel so much heavier now, letting him go. Unexpectedly, he remains, head now resting on your chest, forehead pressed to your cheek. “Not going to eat and run?”

“In such a hurry to be rid of me?” He murmurs, his face hidden so you don’t even have a chance of reading his expression.

You’re not naive, despite what the others might believe. There’s nothing more you expect beyond what already passes between the two of you. Even if you believe you could care for him, he’s not open to you that way. Still, even if the tone is nonchalant, you feel there’s a loneliness behind it he's not quite hiding all the way. “I didn’t say that.” He doesn’t ask directly to stay and you know he won’t, so you pull the covers over the two of you and put your arms back around him and without saying another word.

With a subtle shift, you feel him get near your throat once again before stopping himself. “Perhaps I should go.”

“You don’t have to, I trust you.” Tentatively, you reach a hand up and softly stroke it through his silver hair. First he tenses, and you wait for a reproach for being too tender with him, but none comes. A moment later and you feel the tension release and he relaxes again. Your eyes are heavy, your body desperately craving sleep, but you're afraid there will never be another moment like this, with him so close, and not pushing you away. So you fight to stay conscious, and keep your fingers moving gently as long as he allows it. Sleep comes to claim you again though, and just as the world fades around you, lips brush your collarbone and the arm around your waist holds a little tighter.

The dawn comes, and the camp stirs. When you find the empty space in your bed roll, you tell yourself your heart doesn’t break a little and get ready to get on with your day.

[spaghettiposts]

Picture to Burn

Cairo Sweet x Reader

Summery: You should've known better than to fall for Cairo, your friend who seemed to have no interest in you, but it only takes one drink to mess things up and get you into her bed.

Warnings: Attempts at writing, angst, miscommunication, slight sexual content, underage drinking, Miller being an inconvenience, and heartbreak

Word count: 3.3k yikes

A/n: Hm, not sure how I feel about this one but its been sitting in my drafts long enough, might need a part 2...

“What do you look for in an ideal partner?” Cairo furrowed her eyebrows, her pencil caught between her lips. Your question threw her off track, and she grumbled softly as she erased a mistake. She glanced up at you, annoyed by your upside-down gaze and the way your lips quirked.  

“Someone who doesn’t have a camera hanging around their neck all the time.” She retorted, eyes drifting back down to her notes. 

You perked up, grasping the camera that was indeed resting on your neck. “Seriously?” You scoffed, settling back into the blanket. 

Cairo smirked behind her pages, taking full satisfaction in your crestfallen demeanor. “Oh, and people who aren’t into Marvel.” She added, chuckling at your deadpan reaction.

Assuming the conversation was over, she resumed writing, scribbling random thoughts only to look away and meet your raised brow, tied with an expectant look. God you had to be needy. With a heavy sigh, she shut her book. Typical, you rarely gave her time to properly invest in her writing. 

“Fine…I guess for them to make a good income? You know, enough to support me and my writing. Or at least put up with it.” Cairo explained with a shrug, nose scrunching at the way your eyes softened. Ignoring it, she pointed to you with her pen, hitting your nose, “And you are ten grand in debt, unfortunately missing the cut, so sorry.” She said with a faux pout. 

Once again, you scoffed, pushing her away and murmuring about how unserious she could be. Cairo fell back on the blanket with a laugh, feeling anything but apologetic, though your smile gave you away. 

As you reached into your bag for your notebook, Cairo assumed she might finally get some writing done. Quiet time was her favorite time with you - if you had to be there, which she preferred if you weren’t, totally. Either way, the sound of you fiddling with your camera grounded her; enough so she could focus on her work again. 

Initially, Cairo found certain quirks about you irritating, but as she spent more time with you, she began to see them in a new light. The small curses that left your lips when your camera wasn’t working properly, the spontaneous photos you snapped of Cairo - they became endearing rather than bothersome. And above all, your unwavering support and genuine admiration for her writing. Something Cairo needed more than she’d ever admit. 

With each word of encouragement and every heartfelt compliment, Cairo's heart swelled, in a dreadful way. It was more than admiration or appreciation; it was something more, a feeling she couldn't deny, no matter how hard she tried.

Though she continued to brush off your advances and maintain a facade of indifference, yet Cairo couldn't ignore you whenever your eyes met hers, the way your smile seemed reserved for her alone.

Yes, you were her friend, but that was all. Nothing was worth the risk of ruining things now. Especially if you didn’t truly mean what you spoke.

“Have you read anything new lately?” You asked, your back hunched over as you picked with the old thing. Honestly, Cairo couldn’t see why you still put up with it, the damn thing broke all the time. But still, it was a classic model from the 50s, an heirloom from your grandfather, which she could respect. 

Her hand reached over and shoved at your back, smiling in satisfaction when you straighten your back, shooting a glare in her direction. 

“I finished Lolita, it was on Miller's list for its themes of controversy. I wouldn’t read it again though.” She mumbled, “I did pick up this new book called Rebecca, it’s allegedly a psychological thriller but what’s so dark about being haunted by your partner's ex?”

You scoffed, doodling some part of the camera in your journal, “A lot.” 

“Doesn’t seem too bad, I mean they’re dead right? Can’t do anything.” 

“I wouldn’t risk crossing a paranormal creature like that.” You commented, with a shrug of your shoulders. Cairo hummed, watching you work. When you made no further comments she returned back to her notebook, spending the hour before class working separately. 

—

Despite Mr. Miller's evident excitement towards writings of controversy, apparently, that wasn’t the case with Cairo. It was a mistake, a stupid mistake but a mistake she assumed a man like him would love. How wrong was she? 

A student longing for their middle-aged professor was where the line was drawn. The hypocrisy of it all made Cairo want to laugh, who was he to dismiss her paper that way? She knows the other students, the other students who wrote worse. The book Miller had them read was even worse. 

But no, what was done was done. And now she was convinced Miller thought she was coming onto her, just what she needed. Cairo wouldn’t be surprised if he reported her and there was suddenly a new switch in teachers. As annoying as that’d be, she didn’t have time to dwell on it. 

Instead of a clear schedule, there was now an overdue assignment, dragging her grade down that she had to redo. All. Over. Again. 

Oh how she wanted to scream at that, a relaxing week gone. 

“Stupid fucking Miller…” Cairo muttered, walking with haste to her car. Once inside she slammed the door, pressing her head against the wheel. A knock on her window startled the girl, causing her to look up with a huff, her eyes widening once she realizes who it is.

“Are you alright?” You ask, waiting for her to roll down the window. She does just that, wiping her face with her arm. Was she crying? “You look…off.” Typically your way of saying she looked like shit. Mascara smeared and all she couldn’t blame you. 

Deciding not to answer your question, Cairo motions to the passenger seat, tossing her bag carelessly into the back seat.  “Get in.” 

“But I already have a ride-“

“And I’m offering…just come inside.” She grits between her teeth, letting out an impatient sigh. She doesn’t know why she needs you in the car with her but doesn’t give herself time to dwell on it, when you’re slipping into the seat next to her. 

Your posture is tense and that bothers her. She didn’t mean to come off…abrasive. Taking her eyes off yours, she starts the car, preparing herself for the upcoming conversation. You quickly buckle yourself in without another word. 

The car ride could’ve been more comfortable, which usually it was but your consistent nervous tapping was starting to bother the brunette. Wordlessly she threw her stapled papers in your lap, you opened your mouth to speak but Cairo beat you to it, mumbling a small ‘read it’.

You flipped through her work carefully and Cairo didn’t have the heart to look at your reaction, not this time. It was different with you judging her work, not that you judged, words of compliments spilled out of your lips every time you did read something of hers, tugging those same old heartstrings Cairo was starting to get sick of. Unlike those other moments, this time, it was different as you flipped silently through her work. Did she really screw it up this bad? 

She heard a hiss leave your lips and if she weren’t driving the car her head would’ve snapped in an instant. Turns out you were only focusing on the grade and notes Miller left, better yet lack of. 

You bit the inside of your cheek, slowly sliding the papers back to her, pursing your lips. Cairo huffed, removing one hand from the steering wheel to snatch them back, throwing them harshly towards the back. 

So, she was in a bad mood. You thought, hands clutching at your knees, swallowing dryly. 

“So?” Cairo asks, her voice on the verge of a shout. 

“Well, it was interesting. I mean I skimmed through it so I don’t know, your writing was good- like always.” You spoke rapidly, a nervous trait. 

“God Y/n, if you thought it was bad you could’ve just said so!” She blurted exasperatedly.

“I don’t! Cairo you know I adore everything you write, this just caught me off guard. Doesn’t mean I like it any less, I promise.” 

A silence loomed over the car, and you shrank into your seat even further if that was even possible. Cairo let out a sigh, losing her grip on the steering wheel. 

“Sorry, I'm just feeling…” Cairo's voice trailed off as she struggled to find the right words. She didn’t want to fight, not again. The guilt weighed heavy on her chest every time she saw that deflated look on your face. She couldn’t keep pushing you away, that wasn’t fair. But she also couldn’t shake that feeling of uncertainty she felt around you, about what she wanted, when you were what she wanted, “frustrated with this assignment.”

“And that’s okay,” You reassured her, your voice as gentle as ever, as you reached out to take her hand. Cairo’s gaze flickered down to your hands, feeling a mix of comfort and apprehension, before reluctantly allowing them to intertwine, giving you a small squeeze. “I’m here for you if you need me, anytime.” 

Suddenly, the car felt much tighter than before, the lump in her throat growing heavier. She wasn’t sure when her eyes started to water or why your touch felt like a burden, but she knew she couldn’t hold it any longer. It all felt too intimate too quickly. Silently, she withdrew her hand, placing it back in her lap oblivious to the hurt expression on your face. 

Yet, she couldn’t ignore the own ache in her chest. 

—

A bright white light blurred endlessly in Cairo's eyes, slow and unresponsive to everything else that wasn’t her assignment. She fought tirelessly at the screen in front of her, the now blank page mocking her to no end. In the midst of it all Cairo recalled how easy her first essay had been to create, only to be dismissed. 

With a huff and slam at her laptop, she tossed the thing aside, landing back on her bed with a grunt. She separates herself from her work, wiping at her burning eyes with her hands. To say Cairo was frustrated was an understatement. After driving around with you for a while she let you go, dropping you off. 

A decision Cairo started to regret. 

Once again, her parents were out of town doing who knows what. It was something Cairo was used to, but it still bothered her more than she’d admit. Some company would be nice, she wasn’t sure how much longer she could take rewriting that assignment anyway. 

After mulling it over in her head, she lifted herself up, to open her phone. Her eyes remained locked on your contact, holding a photo of you and Cairo at the library. While Cairo had her nose stuck in a book, you looked at her like she was everything and more. The picture only made her stomach gnaw uneasily, but still, with much hesitance she dialed your number, listening to it ring.

“Hey, can you come over?” 

An astonishing ten minutes was all it took for you to appear at her door. Cairo smiled at you, tugging you in. She noticed you carrying a small plastic bag but didn’t comment on it, dragging you up to her room.

“I brought you something.” You said, softly closing the door behind you. Cairo sat herself on the bed, tilting her head curiously. “A lot of things actually.” 

How Cairo managed to miss the balloon you had brought in with you, reading in big bold letters: ‘I’m sorry for your loss’ was totally behind her. Cairo raised a questioning eyebrow and you explained for her writing losses, and Cairo didn’t know if she wanted to laugh or punch you. 

Fortunately, you reached into the bag before she could consider the latter, pulling out a familiar bottle of scotch that had Cairo’s lips contorted into one of mischief and pleasure. “And I figured you could use a drink, or two.” You muttered thoughtfully, tossing the bottle on her lap. Cairo traced the bottle with her fingers before twisting it open with a ‘pop’.

You moved around the room, searching for glasses you could use. Spotting two clean ones on the dresser you grabbed them, and settled down next to Cairo, leaving a respectable distance between you. Cairo already had her lips on the bottle by the time you poured the drinks and you raised an amused eyebrow, handing her the whiskey-filled shot. She downed it impressively and you attempted to do the same, failing quite miserably when the burn settled. 

Cairo laughed and you settled further into her bed, grumbling embarrassedly. And it had only taken two more shots for you to really feel the effects, and you could tell Cairo was starting to feel them too, a giddy smile plastered on her face that never seemed to leave. Your shoulders untensed noticeably from how serene the air felt, wishing that every moment with Cairo didn’t feel like walking a tightrope. 

Yet there was still something there – a lingering tension of sorts that no matter how hard you tried wouldn’t leave. You assumed Cairo felt the same when you met her eye and a soft smile tugged on her lips, one that you couldn’t help but return.

Time seemed to blur with the buzz of alcohol in your body, everything having been so peacefully quiet till Cairo shifted against the headboard, lips lingering on the bottle. Her gaze met yours and your stomach stirred. Not knowing why, foolishly, you looked away. Never had Cairo looked in your direction with so much fervor, and you’d be damned if she started now, under the influence when she didn’t mean it–couldn’t mean it.

But your heart would always betray you, now more than ever. So when she took another swing, you knew you were a goner by the way her eyes darkened and her teeth shone. Your own eyes remained locked to her lips and you swallowed dryly, feeling your heart race because she was staring back the same way. 

Cairo didn’t seem bothered, chuckling under her breath as she tucked the bottle away, then swiftly advancing on you the next second, giving into what you both so desperately wanted.

She stumbles into your lap messily, thighs encircling your waist and you groan when she squeezes, placing your hands on her thighs to anchor yourself. Cairo took the opportunity to trail kisses down your collarbone, her lips moving frantically, eager to kiss every inch of you. You let yourself get lost in the sensation, trying to block out that part of your mind that tells you, this is wrong.

Cairo stifles a moan when your nails dig into her hips, grounding her and you both shiver at the contact. Your hand slides along her side, encouraging her, and she does just that, moving slowly against your thigh. Then the room changes completely when her noises become louder, and the pit in your stomach grows hotter. And you have to take a moment to separate yourselves, breathing out of sync. 

“What are we doing, Cairo?” You whisper affectedly, rubbing your hands along her inner thighs and Cairo sighs. 

“Whatever you want me to do.” She whispers back in the same tone, bringing your foreheads together. “Guide me.” 

Despite her words, she’s the one to bring your mouths together first. It’s hesitant and slow, and you both sigh. Her hips press harder against you, and you break the kiss with a grunt. “More.” And that’s enough for you to kiss her again, in a much more heated kiss than before.

Your head is spinning in pleasure as Cairo’s hips grind against yours. With shaky hands you squeeze her skin, taking control of her movements and slowing them down. Cairo whines against your lips, begging and you realize you’re completely weak against her and give her what she needs, meeting her thrusts. 

She comes undone on your thighs next, hips spasming, and gasping against your lips as she comes down from her high. Her body goes limp and she falls on your shoulder for support. You press a kiss into her hair, rubbing her back with your hand to soothe her, not really caring if the act is more intimate for whatever this is. 

You switch your positions to lay her to rest on the bed, pressing soft lingering kisses on her face as you do, and she curls in beside you blissfully ignorant to what had happened, and you wonder if she’d still be like this with you if this never did occur. 

Still, you hold her tighter, blinking as the past minutes replayed in your head, trying to make sense of the situation. Your thoughts only come to a halt when Cairo’s lips are back on your neck, and you shake away the goosebumps because you know you can’t do this again without truly knowing. 

“Cairo—what, what did we do? What was this?” Your voice cracks through the silence, a lump forming in your throat. 

“Sex,” Cairo states matter-of-factly, continuing to kiss your neck, but it has your heart dropping to your stomach and suddenly you feel sick. Maybe it was just the alcohol or the heartbreak, or both. Either way, it had you pulling away.

“But did it mean anything?” You ask hesitantly, sitting up next to take her hands off you. Cairo huffs in frustration but doesn’t stray her eyes away from you, the action only making it all the more difficult to ask. “At all—did you feel something?” 

“Baby I felt many things,” She chuckles incredulously, raising an eyebrow.  “What's with all the questions?” 

Her wandering hands make it hard to focus on your words, each touch just a reminder of what you had done just a moment ago. You tentatively take her hands into your own, catching her by surprise. “I just mean- well you’ve never…shown or said you’ve wanted to be with me this way.” 

“Just because I had sex with you doesn’t mean I want to be with you. It’s just sex, Y/n.”

You choke in disbelief, feeling a wave of soberness wash over and you let go of her hands, similarly to how Cairo did earlier.

Not really knowing what to do or say, you shuffle away from her, noticing her torn expression. It hurts you to look at her, so you don’t, choosing to face anything—the ceiling, her vanity. But everything ties back to her, and you hated yourself for allowing this to happen. 

A wave of silence passes you before you have the strength to repeat something, “Right”. You manage to utter, your voice trembling.  

When you make a move to leave, Cairo touches your wrist to stop you and you freeze. “It’s late, and you’re drunk. Stay the night.”

You take a shallow breath, shaking your head in denial. “I don’t think I should.”

“I wasn’t asking.” 

“Of course not.” You mutter, sitting back against the headboard. Cairo doesn’t question the attitude, only sparing a concerned glance before moving off the bed. Her movements are sloppy as she makes her way to the bathroom, holding a new pair of clothes. 

You don’t register when she returns, but it’s long afterward. Neither of you says a word, choosing to settle in silence. There’s a palpable tension when she places a pillow between you, a silent barrier.

You want to scream, to say something, to remind her who initiated it. Tell her that if anything, you should be uncomfortable with her. But that would be a lie. Your head continues to pound throughout the night, and you decide it’s better to sleep it off, unaware of how deeply affected both of you are.

The next day, Cairo wakes up to an empty bed.

[pedrospatch]

a safe haven l one

Jackson! Joel Miller x Female Reader

series masterlist

summary: After the events in Salt Lake City, Joel and Ellie are back in Jackson, Wyoming to start a brand new life in the safe haven; Ellie has a difficult time fitting in and adjusting in the community, but she finds a friend in you; Joel meets you for the very first time and strange new feelings instantly take root.

warnings/tags: 18+ ONLY, MINORS DNI. AGE GAP (no specific age is mentioned, but reader’s in her late 20s/early 30s and Joel is 56). reader is basically an OFC but story is written in reader format and her physical descriptions are kept as vague as possible. i have my own face claim for her, but i will only ever share it under cuts and with disclaimers. reader is married, Ellie plays a very important role in the series, hints at her strained relationship with Joel but this will indeed be a fix it fic because he deserves it, okay?

word count: 8.1k

Jackson, Wyoming | June, 2024

Joel’s deep, dark brown eyes linger on you from across the town mess hall with sheer, almost unabashed curiosity. Then again, he doesn’t even realize that he’s staring.

It’s about half past twelve, the designated lunch break hour in Jackson, and the larger scale eatery, which for the last couple of years has been run by an older man named Seth and his two surviving adult sons, is alive and well, buzzing loudly with obnoxious, overlapping chatter.

The hall is almost over maximum capacity, packed to the brim with several members of the steadily growing community who had stopped in for a quick bite to eat before having to resume their daily work duties around the settlement. Or at least, a majority of them had, anyway. Others shamelessly try to milk their lunch hour for all that it’s worth and more, dragging it out and extending their allotted free time for as long as they possibly can before having to return to their scheduled tasks around the commune. They float about the place, socializing as if the mess hall had suddenly turned into The Tipsy Bison, the bar right across the road that’s also owned by Seth.

Somehow, by a stroke of sheer good luck, you’d managed to find yourself a smaller, unoccupied table nestled against the wall, away from all the hustle and bustle. It’s tucked away over in the furthest corner of Jackson’s busy and bustling makeshift canteen, near where the aluminum double doors that lead back to the kitchens are propped wide open for the mess hall staff who were coming in and out to replenish the dishes at the buffet. 

You’re sitting at the table alone, your plastic lunch tray surrounded by an absurd amount of open books that Joel had very little choice but to assume came from the town’s modest, but decent sized library that he’d seen nestled between the schoolhouse and the old church, right behind Main Street. In between delicate bites of oven baked chicken and roasted vegetables harvested fresh from the gardens, you reach up and take the blunt, worn yellow pencil that’s tucked in the space behind your ear, using it to scribble on the notepad in your lap before putting the pencil back in its designated place. Although you’re clearly working through your lunch break today, that doesn’t stop you from being interrupted on several different occasions by numerous individuals—friends and familiar faces all approach you with hopeful expressions, eager to join you and keep you company. 

Sure, the hall is full, but there’s still a number of available seats still left at other partially occupied tables nearby, bigger tables that aren’t crowded with books like yours, tables whose occupants aren’t busy working, studying—doing whatever it is that you’re doing. It becomes apparent to Joel that you’re something of a hot commodity around here. He can’t quite put his finger on it, but there’s just something about you that reminds him of the sweet and popular small town girl his favorite country artists would sing about back in the day. The kind of girl with a magnetic presence and irresistible charm—the kind of girl that anyone can fall head over heels in love with in one way or another. 

There’s something almost too endearing about the gracious way you offer up just the most saccharine smile and apologetic doe eyes as you point to your books, politely declining every offer for companionship that comes your way, saying something he can imagine to be along the lines of, not today or maybe another time. Eventually, after a while, you’re finally left alone to bury yourself back into whatever it is that’s keeping you occupied that you can’t even have your midday meal in peace—you’re so engrossed in the task that you don’t even notice the older, salt and pepper haired newcomer who’s been blatantly staring at you from his table over on the opposite of the hall for the last several minutes. 

It’s not the first time Joel’s seen you around.

He still vividly remembers the moment when he’d first laid eyes on you several months ago during the winter season. 

It had been the morning after his fight with Ellie, after she’d confronted him and he had been forced to fess up about his plans to hand her off to his younger brother, Tommy—he’d asked him, pleaded with him, to get her to the Fireflies in Colorado. Joel’s mind had been in an all out raging war, his heart torn between doing what he’d felt was best for Ellie and what he truly wanted, which was to remain by her side and get her to where she needed to be himself. But how the fuck could he do that when all he’d managed to do in the few months prior to their arrival in Wyoming was fail to protect her over and over again? Sure, Ellie was a teenager, now closer to being an adult than anything else, but she was still a child, one who needed to be protected, kept safe. She needed somebody who could get to where she needed to be in one piece, and Joel had come to the conclusion that, as much as he wanted to be that person, he simply wasn’t capable. Slower, older, his hearing getting worse and worse as the days go by, he feared he’d only end up getting her killed if she continued on with him, a scenario he fucking refused to let happen at all costs. He wouldn’t hold another child’s dead body in his arms, not again.

Following a very long and sleepless night of tossing and turning, Joel had pulled himself out of bed just after sunrise that morning. After getting dressed, he’d quietly slipped out of the house and made his way down to the horse stables, hoping he could leave the commune as soon as possible and without notice from Tommy—and especially without notice from Ellie. It’s not that he had wanted to leave without saying goodbye to her, but Joel knew he wouldn’t have it in him to follow through with the decision he’d made about parting ways with her if he saw her face again, not a fucking chance. And so there he’d been, in one of the stalls at the stables, saddling up the horse he planned to steal and take off on when you’d walked by, flashing him a warm and friendly smile, probably assuming he was just another patrolman getting ready to head out for the morning shift. 

Joel had just stared at you, lips pressed together into a tight, thin line with an emotionless expression on his hard, stony face.

Of course, you were nothing more than a complete stranger who didn’t have the slightest clue as to what was going through his mind. You couldn’t have possibly imagined what was happening to the tortured older man you’d just encountered, the way his inner turmoil was a single thought away from tearing him apart from the inside out. You’d probably just thought he was rude for not smiling back, or at the very least, offering you a courteous good morning.

He’d almost forgotten about you since then.

Almost.

It’d been rather difficult for him to forget all about the prettiest goddamn fucking face he’d ever seen since the world ended two decades ago—not even after all of the events that followed that fateful morning.

The next time Joel had seen you was on his second day back in Wyoming. He and Ellie had made a trip down to the produce market on Main Street to pick up some vegetables and jarred preserves to stock up the kitchen pantry of their new, forever home. He’d caught sight of you as you made your way down one of the aisles towards the sweet potato bins with a brown, woven basket hanging from one arm and a reusable shopping bag draped over the other. Before Joel even realized that he’d been staring, your kind gaze met his own from across the market and you smiled at him again.

Still just as warm, still just as friendly. And you were still just as fucking beautiful as he remembered.

Much like that winter morning in the horse stables, Joel didn’t smile back at you. 

Two for fucking two—surely you must have thought he was a mannerless asshole at this point. He honestly wouldn’t blame you if you did. He’d think the same. 

Tommy, who had made it back from leading his morning patrol group just in time to join him for lunch, waves a hand in front of Joel’s face, looking thoroughly amused. “Maybe we should find you a goddamn camera,” he teases, letting out a small chuckle once he’d finally managed to break the older Miller’s trance, garnering his attention. “Y’know, so you can take a picture. It’ll last a hell of a lot longer.”

Joel scowls at his brother, though he says nothing.

He can’t very well deny that he’d been caught openly gawking. 

“Shut up, Tommy,” is all he can come up with before taking a large bite of seasoned carrots, heat flooding his face. The way Tommy’s looking at him, with that mischievous glimmer in his eyes, it reminds Joel of their younger years, when Tommy would make it his mission in life to do anything that would cause him discomfort just for his own kicks. 

“Hey, I don’t really blame you, y’know.” Tommy reaches over for his glass of sweet iced tea and picks it up, taking a long and refreshing sip. Smacking his lips together, he casually shrugs his shoulders, shooting Joel a knowing smirk over the top the glass as he comments, “She’s certainly a sight for sore eyes, ain’t she, big brother?”

“Watch it. Don’t think Maria would appreciate you sayin’ that kinda thing ’bout another woman who ain’t her,” Joel warns, cocking an eyebrow at him. His brother hadn’t always been the most faithful of partners in his first life, but Tommy truly seemed to be head over heels in love with his wife. Hearing him talk about another woman makes Joel wonder if perhaps remnants of his playboy ways still lingered behind even after twenty years. With Maria having just found out she was expecting his child, Joel certainly hopes that isn’t the case. “Eyes to yourself, asshole.”

Tommy shrugs again. “Ain’t no real harm in just takin’ a quick peek every once in a while,” he muses, although there’s a joking edge to his tone. Setting his glass of iced tea back down onto the table in front of him, he leans back into his chair and glances over at you. He lets out a long, low whistle, another smirk tugging at the corners of his lips. “Oh trust me, I get it, Joel—hell, every man around here gets it, fuckin’ single or not. She’s a real fuckin’ beauty, she is. But I should probably go ahead and warn you now that it’s best you don’t go gettin’ any ideas when it comes to that one.”

Before Joel can even stop himself, he finds himself asking, “Why’s that?

“Well for starters, that girl’s damn near half your fuckin’ age, you old fucker.”

Joel flips him off.

“Besides that, she’s already spoken for.” 

“She’s got a boyfriend.” It’s a statement, not a question.

“She’s got a husband,” Tommy corrects him. “She’s a married woman, Joel. And here’s the real fuckin’ kicker. She’s married to Jackson’s only doctor.”

Joel snorts, rolling his eyes. “A real doctor? Or just some fuckin’ clueless prick who claims to be a doctor?” he questions, shoving another forkful of his carrots into his mouth.

The younger man laughs at the bitter skepticism, knowing that it’d come from a place of envy more than anything. “Real, Joel. The guy’s around my age, give or take a couple years. He was finishin’ up his medical school residency when the outbreak first happened, at least that’s what Maria says,” he explains. He notices the confusion flash across Joel’s face and continues to elaborate. “Two of them go way back, went to the same college before she transferred out to another school for her law degree. Maria came across him and his group one day while out lookin’ for supplies. She said he still knew his stuff after all these years and decided to bring him in as the community’s physician. He looks after everyone around here. Delivers the babies, stitches up wounds. Hell, I broke my arm in a stupid ridin’ accident last summer and he set the bone right back into place, had me good as new within a few weeks. S’a miracle we’ve got someone like him around here.”

Joel glances down at his plate, twiddling his fork between his thumb and his index finger. He would have been a goddamn dirty liar if he’d said that finding out you were a married woman didn’t bother him. 

And to a fucking hero doctor nonetheless.

That only makes it sting a little harder.

Tommy immediately picks up on his brother’s disappointment in hearing the news about you being taken and softly kicks his shin with the toe of his boot underneath the table. “Y’know Joel, there’s plenty of other single women around here. Pretty ones, and real nice, too,” he informs him with a small smile. He pauses and then offers, “If you’re interested, I could introduce you around. Maria has this friend, her name is Esther and she’s a real cute blonde—”

“That’s the last thing on my fuckin’ mind,” Joel grumbles out in reply. He tightly shakes his head. “I just fuckin’ got here, Tommy. Besides, I’ve got Ellie that I need to take care of. We’re both tryin’ to get used to this place after bein’ out there on the road for so long. We’re still in the middle of gettin’ ourselves settled. The kid’s my priority right now—my only fuckin’ priority. Not meetin’ someone.”

Not wanting to push him too far, Tommy goes along with the subject change. “Speakin’ of Ellie, how’s she been doin’ by the way? Haven’t really seen much of her since you two got back.”

Joel hesitates, momentarily unable to meet Tommy’s eyes.

It’d been a couple of weeks now since the events that took place back in Salt Lake City. 

Since the hospital.

Since the Fireflies.

Joel had certainly thought once or twice about confiding in Tommy about what he had done. How he had ruthlessly and without a single ounce of mercy killed all of those people in the hospital, how he had shot Marlene dead at point blank range—how he had violently and single handedly stopped what had most likely been humanity’s only chance at potentially finding a cure for the cordyceps infection by preventing the Fireflies from operating on Ellie and performing a brain surgery that would have killed her. 

Joel doesn’t regret it, nor does he regret the choice he’d made on Ellie’s behalf.

He would do it all over again in a fucking heartbeat if it came down to it.

He doesn’t carry guilt over having done what he’d done, but he does carry the guilt of having lied to her about it after it was all said and done. He felt awful for looking her in the eye and swearing to her that everything he’d said about the Fireflies was true when it wasn’t. Ellie claimed to believe him, but he knew better than that. She was smart, too fucking smart for her own good. She might not have known the extent of it all, but she knew for certain that Joel wasn’t being entirely forthright about what had gone down in Salt Lake City while she’d been unconscious.

From that moment on the mountain, things had been quite tense between them. That conversation instantly caused a rift in their relationship, but Joel could tell she was doing her very best to force herself to fully believe that he was still a person she could trust, a person she could put her faith in. He took an odd sense of comfort in knowing that her forced efforts to keep believing in him had to have meant something good. 

She didn’t want to give up on him or on their relationship.

Joel exhales a heavy sigh, finally answering the question. “Not too great,” he admits, quietly. “I’m real worried ‘bout her, Tommy. It’s been a couple weeks now since we’ve been back and she still hasn’t made one single goddamn friend around here. She doesn’t fuckin’ talk to anyone, barely even talks to Maria.” He sighs again, tiredly rubbing the side of his face with his free hand. “She spends most of her time hidin’ out in the stables with the horses. She would rather be around them than other people. She can’t live the rest of her life like that. I try to tell her she needs to put in more effort on her part, but she won’t fuckin’ listen to me.”

“Just give her some more time, Joel. After everythin’ that poor kid’s been through in her life, it ain’t a big surprise that she’s strugglin’ a bit to fit in around here, y’know?” Tommy notices the way his older brother’s jaw clenches and he offers him a look of sympathy. “Look, I know Ellie means a whole lot to you and if I were you, I would be real worried ’bout her too. But just give her a little more time to adjust. She’ll get there, I know she fuckin’ will. She’s a real strong kid, big brother.”

“Yeah, I know she is,” Joel murmurs in agreement. “Hell of a lot stronger than someone her age should have to be.”

“She’ll be just fine,” Tommy reassures him. “She’ll find her place here, Joel. Just wait. You’ll see.”

“I sure as hell fuckin’ hope you’re right.”

You relish the feeling of warm sunlight hitting your face.

Summer’s just beginning in Wyoming, and after a particularly long, cold and cruel winter that swept the western state this last year, you couldn’t have been more thrilled to see that warmer weather is well on its way.

At least, for now you’re thrilled.

Winters in Jackson were god awful, but summers could be just as brutal, if not worse.

Clutching the strap of your old, but sturdy brown leather satchel bag securely over your shoulder, you hurriedly make your way across the settlement from the mess hall and back towards the horse stables, the place you commonly referred to as your second home—it wasn’t all that much of a joke, seeing as you often spent more time there than you didn’t. It’s now after lunch hour, and there’s still plenty of work to be done before the end of the day rolls around, most of it which would undoubtedly trickle into the next day.

Being the only veterinarian in the community, there was always more than plenty of work to be done every day. Too much work to be done by one single person alone. Often, you find yourself feeling quite overwhelmed by it all. You feel like you’re completely in over your head, and it leaves you wondering if you’d made the right decision by taking such an enormous responsibility into your hands.

Then again, it’s not like you’d been given much of a choice. In a way, it had been expected of you.

Prior to passing away from illness two summers ago, your father had been the veterinarian who looked after the animals. Even though you hadn’t been trained professionally like he had, your father decided to spend the final years of his life teaching you to the best of his ability and with what little resources he had available. After all, Jackson was going to need someone to step up and take care of the animals when he was gone—particularly the hoses. Even as his physical health worsened, he used every last ounce of strength he had left in him to prepare you to take over for him when he died. Thanks to him and all he’d done for you, you certainly knew a thing or two, but the job was still daunting, even after all this time of being in practice on your own without him there to guide you like before.

Keeping the horses healthy to begin with made your job a hell of a lot easier, but when a horse became sick or injured, that was when your knowledge and your skills were truly put to the test. Horses were how everyone traveled when in search of needed supplies, how patrolmen and women moved around while they were out and about on watch keeping the community safe against the infected and against raiders. Horses were one of the most important, most precious resources the commune possessed. They kept everything going, everyone moving, and you’d be fucking lying if you said that being the sole person in charge of caring for them didn’t put a tremendous amount of pressure on your shoulders.

Sensing your doubt, Maria Miller often assured you that you were the best person for the role—the only person for the role. “The apple really doesn’t fall far from the tree,” she had complimented you over coffee at her place the morning after you had successfully removed a bullet lodged into the shoulder of one of the horses that had been injured while Tommy and his group were out on overnight patrol. They’d stumbled across violent and armed raiders, and luckily everyone had made it out unscathed with the exception of Tommy’s beloved black horse, Ranger. You recalled being pulled out of your bed in the middle of the night to tend to him, the first serious case you had to take care of without your father’s guidance. Thankfully, the stallion’s injury hadn’t been life threatening, and you were able to patch him up within the hour. After just a few weeks of working with Ranger and putting him through physical therapy, the horse made a full recovery and both Maria and Tommy couldn’t have been more thrilled with your work.

Still, you still continued questioning your own abilities, but it didn’t really matter in the end. Both Maria and Tommy decided to assign you as Jackson’s equine veterinarian, pulling you from your previous job, which had been helping Seth make sandwiches at The Tipsy Bison.

You rush into the stables, making a mental list with the names of all the horses that you still need to check over for the day, including the group of horses that had just arrived back from that morning’s patrol. You make your way down to the very last stall which is serving as home to a stunning, chestnut-brown pregnant mare.

“Hi there, Stella,” you coo sweetly, beaming at the beauty. “Hi, my gorgeous girl. How are you doing today, sweetie pie?”

“I would be doing a hell of a lot better if I could have one of those apples in your bag,” a voice answers, startling you slightly.

Peering around Stella’s body, you catch sight of Ellie laying down on a small bed of hay in the furthest corner of the stall. She’d made something of a pillow out of her backpack, kicking back as she flips through her favorite superhero comic book for what had to be the hundredth time. She offers you a silly, lopsided grin the minute she takes a glimpse at the baffled look on your face. “Howdy.”

“Ellie,” you sigh her name softly. “What in the world are you doing in here?”

“Living my best life,” she deadpans. “What else does it look like I’m doing?”

You try but mostly fail, in hiding your laughter at her quick witted sense of humor. “Ellie,” you say her name again. “You can’t just hide out in here with the horses every single day, you know,” you point out, dropping your heavy satchel bag onto the ground. Stella lowers her head and gives it a sniff, no doubt smelling those apples you always carried around with you.

“Wanna bet?” The teenager quips with a small joking smirk as she sits up, tossing her comic book to the side. Bits of hay stick out of her brown hair, which she always keeps tied back in a messy ponytail.

“Aren’t you supposed to be in school with the other kids?”

She rolls her eyes. “I already went to school. Back in the Boston QZ. FEDRA’s finest, dude.”

You don’t know all that much about Ellie Williams—nor about the brooding older man that she’s here with, Joel Miller. The only thing you do know is that Joel happened to be Tommy Miller’s older brother and he acted as Ellie’s guardian. Initially, you’d thought he was her father, but Maria had told you that he had no familial relation to the girl, a fact that took you by complete surprise.

Their arrival in Jackson back during the winter season had the entire town talking—but by the following morning, the pair were gone, not to be seen again for several months until their return towards the end of spring just a couple of weeks ago. Rumors flew once the word of their return had gone around, but in reality, no one had the slightest clue about where they had gone or why they had left the safety of the commune’s walls in the first place. Not even Maria, who had failed in getting her husband to talk. She swore up and down Tommy knew something she didn’t, but he refused to spill his brother’s secrets, even to his own wife.

Like everyone else in the tight knit community, you were curious about Ellie, and you were especially curious about Joel. You’d seen him around a couple of times before, but hadn’t had the chance to meet him yet. Still, even without having spoken a single word to him, you already knew he wasn’t anything like Tommy, or anyone else you’ve ever encountered, really. A man of very few words, he kept to himself, just like Ellie did. Still, Joel knew he needed to find his place and pull his weight in Jackson just like everyone else, and once he began working patrol alongside Tommy, he finally began engaging with other members of the town. 

Reluctantly so, but at the very least, he was trying.

Ellie, on the other hand, avoided everybody at all costs. Everybody, that is, except for you.

Since their arrival, Ellie chose to spend her days in the stables. She’d hang out with the horses while reading her comic books or listening to tapes on some old Walkman she had permanently borrowed from Tommy. Despite a hectic schedule that kept you busy, you eventually started taking the time out of your day to talk to her. It had started off with light chatter about the most trivial of things—how the day was going, whether or not the weather was nice outside, what had been served for lunch in the mess hall that afternoon. Ellie seemed almost annoyed with you at first, but after a couple of days, she’d quickly started warming up to you and by the end of the first week, she had started following you around the stables, joining you wherever you needed to be. The girl had taken a liking to you, but she was still quite guarded and careful, as if she were still testing the waters, figuring out whether or not you could be trusted.

You don’t mind that, though.

Little by little, simply by being kind to her and making the genuine effort to get to know her, you’re slowly beginning to chip away at her layers. There was still quite a long way to go if you ever wanted the teenager to completely open up to you, but you didn’t mind that either.

You’d be as patient with her as you needed to be.

You walk over to her. “Listen Ellie, as much as I really enjoy having you around me all the time, you really do need to make friends, you know.”

She blinks. “But you’re my friend.”

Even as you rephrase yourself, you can’t help but smile. “Friends your own age,” you remark, tucking the loose lock of your hair that had fallen loose from your dutch braid behind your ear. “You know, my husband, he has a niece named Dina. She’s about your age. I could introduce you to each other if you'd like?”

Ellie furiously shakes her head. “No.”

“Ellie—”

“Everyone around here looks at me like I’ve got two fucking heads or something. She probably fucking will too,” she mumbles. She pulls her knees up to her chest and wraps her arms around them. “I’d have an easier time fitting in around here if I was a fucking clicker.”

Chuckling, you gently shake your head at her.

By now, you’d pretty much gotten used to her rich and colorful vocabulary.

You crouch down in front of her. “Look Ellie, I know how hard it is not to fit in with others.”

“You?” Ellie blows a loud raspberry in complete disbelief. “No fucking way. I don’t believe that for one fucking second, sweet cheeks.”

“Hey, in case you didn’t know this, I haven’t always been this age,” you remind her, lightly swatting at the side of her knee with your hand. “I was fifteen once too.”

“Yeah, and you were probably little miss fucking perfect, just like you are now.” She rolls her brown eyes at you in a teasing manner. “I bet everyone just loved you.”

You swat at her knee again. “Oh, stop that. That couldn’t be any further from the truth,” you reply, wondering where this child had come up with the idea that you are, or had ever been perfect. “I was still living in one of the quarantine zones with my family when I was your age, Ellie. We were living in the Alburquerque QZ for quite a while before it got overrun by the infected. They had schools and everything, just like in Boston. My mother was a nurse, so she had the privilege of enrolling me in one of their better schools, a preparatory school—she had the hope that I’d become an officer so I could have a chance at a decent life.” You pause, noticing a strange glimmer flash in the girl’s eyes, but when she says nothing, you continue on, “So I got the absolute pleasure of going to school with a bunch of kids whose parents were officers and important higher ups in the zone. And let me tell you something, the world may have gone to complete shit, but teenagers can still be fucking assholes.”

Ellie throws her head back and laughs loudly. “Whoa! I never thought I’d hear you curse. I thought you were too fucking prim and proper for that.”

“I’m not all that prim and proper,” you counter, grinning at the way she continues to cackle. “Besides, spending all this time with you might just have me cursing like a fucking sailor by the end of the week.”

“Fuck yeah it will,” she agrees with a nod. 

You grin again, but when your eyes meet Ellie’s, it falters slightly.

Ellie hadn’t told you much of anything about her past, but one thing was for certain—the young girl had been through hell and back. You could see it written all over her face, even when she smiled and even when she laughed. The traces of terror, pain, and trauma were quite subtle, but they were very much present and in recent nights, you’d find yourself lying in bed, wide awake and wondering what all this poor child had gone through in her life. Thoughts about what Ellie had seen, what and who she had lost in this world haunted you.

She’s different. 

What she’d been through made her different.

It set her apart from the other children, especially those who don’t know what it’s like to live a life outside these four walls.

It pained you to know that she felt ostracized when you were willing to bet your life that whatever had happened to her, it hadn’t been her fault.

Ellie Williams wasn’t your responsibility—you hardly know her. But you already care about her. An inexplicable soft spot for her had found its way into your heart from your very first interaction with her. If there’s anything you can do to help her ease into this new way of life, you’ll gladly do so without hesitation.  

“So then,” Ellie finally says after a minute, looking up at you. “Is it, uh, is it alright if I keep coming to the stables to spend time with you and the horses?”

“Of course.” You rise to your feet and glance at Stella. “But only on one condition. You have to help me out with the grooming. I’ve been really short handed lately and could use the extra help. Deal?”

She jumps up to her feet, eagerly nodding her head. “Deal.”

Joel dumps his plastic tray and used dishware into the designated dirty dish bin before shoving his way through the doors of the mess hall. The air outside is still relatively cool, it’s crisp and fresh—but the temperatures are sure to get a hell of a lot warmer now that summer has officially arrived. Not that he minded.

He keeps his sights set straight ahead of him, doing his best to avoid eye contact with anyone who so much as even throws a glimpse in his direction.

People seem to be getting to him, but oftentimes, he still feels like a pariah. It’s almost like he’s some fucking feral stray cat that Jackson had adopted and taken into it’s home, willing to tame him, but still afraid that he could start tearing shit up at any given moment if they didn’t keep a close enough eye on him. He could handle that, though. It’s his Ellie he’s worried about. Between the survivor’s guilt she’d been dealing with on a daily basis and the way she was looked at in the community by everyone, Joel feared for her well being. He could only hope that Tommy was right about her just needing time and that eventually, she’ll find her place and he’ll have the chance to give her the most normal life possible under the circumstances. 

It’s the very least Joel could do for her after all she’d been through in the last year—after what he’d done, how he had lied straight to her face. He fucking owed her that much.

Ellie deserved happiness, and he would do just about anything in his power to give it to her.

Joel arrives at the horse stables and makes his way inside. “Ellie?” He calls out her name. “Ellie? You in here?”

That’s when he hears her voice. 

“Wait, what? Stella’s pregnant? I didn’t fucking know that!”

Rounding the corner into the very last stall, Joel sees Ellie standing there, her tiny little hand on the muzzle of a brown horse. In her opposite hand, she’s holding a mane brush. She isn’t alone.

He’s surprised to see you standing there beside her, your hands planted on your hips. You’re wearing a pair of well worn light wash blue jeans, the legs tucked into a pair of weathered black riding boots whose soles are completely caked with muck. Joel remembers you wearing an oversized, long sleeved red flannel shirt back in the mess hall, but it’s now off and tied around your waist, leaving you in a thin, cotton white tank top—the material fits snug on your frame, and Joel tries his hardest not to stare at the patch of bare skin that peeks between the hem of your shirt and the waistband of your jeans.

Christ.

You’re even more beautiful up close.

Fuckin’ get a grip, Miller, he thinks silently to himself.

“She sure is,” you reply to her question with a wide grin. “We just found out about a week ago and believe she’s about a few weeks along. We’ll have a sweet new baby in a year.”

“What? No fucking way!” Ellie exclaims, looking thoroughly excited, but bewildered by the fact. “Horses are pregnant for a whole year? Holy shit man, that’s fucking nuts!”

“Well, for eleven months,” you clarify for her, giving Stella a gentle, but firm pat on her muscular neck. “This is Stella’s first one. We’re hoping for a smooth pregnancy that reaches full term, but sometimes babies decide to come a bit sooner than expected.”

Curiously, Joel’s lips part and his eyes widen slightly.

He can’t fucking believe it.

Ellie hadn’t spoken a single word to anyone in two weeks and yet here she is, engaging with you so easily and so effortlessly, cracking the first genuine smile he’d seen since they had fed that giraffe back in Salt Lake City. More than that, Ellie is being herself, cursing up a storm and all, and you don’t seem the slightest bit bothered by it, not like the other adults whose jaws would drop in utter horror at her use of such foul language.

Joel wills himself to move and steps inside of the stall. He lightly clears his throat. “Ellie.”

You and Ellie both turn around, glancing in his direction.

“Joel? What are you doing here?” she asks, her smile fading slightly.

“Lookin’ for you. It’s lunchtime. Y’need to go eat somethin’ kiddo.”

She holds up the brush in her hand. “But we were just about to—”

He stops her with a stern glare. “Lunch. Now. Go.”

“Fine,” Ellie huffs and rolls her eyes at him. Picking up her red and tan backpack from the ground, she hands you the mane brush and stomps out of the stall, roughly shoving into Joel’s shoulder as she pushes past him without another word.

Joel glances at you, a sudden wave of awkwardness washing over him. Just as he’s about to politely excuse himself and leave, you speak.

“You’re Tommy’s older brother, right? Joel?”

He nods. “Yeah. I am.”

Stepping away from Stella, you walk over to Joel and introduce yourself, extending a hand for him to shake.

Your name is as beautiful as you are and it sounds heavenly when he repeats it, rolling smoothly off his tongue. He takes your hand in his own and the contrast between the two is stark. Your hand is soft against his rough, small compared to his large, but somehow still an all too perfect fit.

“It’s nice to finally meet you, Joel.” Your eyes find his, meeting them in a way that makes something inside of him that had been sleeping for decades now stir itself awake—it’s a feeling that’s too foreign for him to pinpoint. 

Realizing he’s been holding onto your hand longer than necessary, he drops it and takes a step back, lightly bumping his back against the stall door. “I’m—uh, I’m real sorry ‘bout Ellie,” Joel apologizes to you after a minute. “I know she’s been spendin’ a lot of time in here. I hope she hasn’t been botherin’ you or gettin’ in the way of things. If she is, I’ll have a talk with her.”

“No, no. Of course not. She hasn’t been bothering me at all,” you quickly assure him without missing a beat. “I’m usually in here alone, so it’s actually been really nice having her around. I enjoy her company a lot.”

“You do?”

You toss him a puzzled, but amused look. “Is that so strange?”

Joel places his hands on his hips and leans back against the stall door. “Ellie’s been havin’ a little trouble,” he confesses. “Adjustin’ to life here and meetin’ people. She, uh—she ain’t like all the other kids around here, y’know?”

“I know.”

His eyebrows raise to his hairline—exactly how well had you and Ellie gotten to know each other already? What all had she told you? What did you know about her?

What did you know about him?

Joel tries to mask the concern on his face.

“I was just talking to her a little while ago. I told her I know how hard it is being a teenager and trying to fit it in with the crowd, even in a world like this one.” You let out a humorless laugh and shake your head, the ridiculousness of what you’d just said sounding sillier out loud than it had in your mind. “It’s even harder when you’re just so different.” You detect the way that your statement triggers something of a negative response from Joel—the way his eyes darken in a flash of anger and his nostrils flare slightly tell you he doesn’t take all too kindly to anyone talking negatively about his kid. Ellie being different is something that he already knows, of course, but hearing it from someone else isn’t easy for him, and it certainly isn’t welcome. It puts him right into protective mode and you don’t blame him, not in the slightest. You hold your hands up and reassure him, “There’s nothing wrong with being different, by the way.”

Joel sees the sincerity in your eyes that go hand in hand with your words and his defenses switch off almost as quickly as they’d switched on. “There isn’t,” he agrees with a careful nod of his head. “Nothin’ wrong with it at all.” He clears his throat. “M’sorry, I didn’t mean to—it’s just that I don’t really like it when people start runnin��� their mouths ‘bout my kid, that’s all.”

Waving a hand, you assure him, “No need to apologize at all, Joel.”

Little by little, he starts relaxing. Taut and tense muscles that have been wound up for years and years are suddenly beginning to loosen. All it’s taking is being in your presence and talking to you. Joel suddenly understands why Ellie’s taken such a quick liking to you. 

You’re unlike anyone that either of them had ever met before. You’re bright and you bring about this warmth—a different kind of warmth Joel hadn’t felt in so fucking long. It feels like seeing the sun for the very first time after spending years and years trapped in a cold, cold darkness.

He glances around the stall. “So, uh—what’s the deal? You one of the stable hands around here or somethin’ like that?”

“Something like that,” you repeat after him, a tiny grin tugging at the corners of your mouth at the way he speaks with a heavy, but still incredibly charming Southern drawl. “I’m the veterinarian here in Jackson.”

He chuckles. “Y’mean, those still exist?”

“Sort of. My father used to be the veterinarian here,” you explain to him. “That was what he did for a living before the outbreak happened. We lived in New Mexico on a horse ranch when I was growing up—he started off as a stable hand and then he went back to school to become an equine veterinarian. When we got here a few years ago from one of the quarantine zones, he told Maria what he had done for a living before this and he was asked to care for the horses in exchange for our place here.”

“And you?” Joel can’t help but wonder out loud. You seem quite young, can’t be older than your late twenties or early thirties at most, which would still have made you a child when the outbreak happened. “No offense darlin’ but you seem a little bit too young to have gone to vet school before shit hit the fan.”

Darlin’.

He doesn’t mean to call you that. But it’s too late—and you don’t appear bothered by it.

Instead, you laugh, and the sound is like a gorgeous melody he could listen to on repeat for the rest of his life if given the chance. “No, I definitely did not go to veterinary school. Actually, my dad taught me everything I know.” You speak fondly of him as you continue to say, “He educated me. Well, as best as he could considering the circumstances and all. He gave me a ton of books that I could read and study from, but most of it was hands-on training. He tried to teach me all that he could before he died a couple of years ago.”

Joel frowns. “Oh. Sorry to hear ‘bout your dad.”

“It’s alright. You don’t have to be sorry.”

He peers at you, wondering what had happened to him. 

“He died of illness,” you tell him, as if having read his mind. “Cancer, we think it was, but we obviously can’t know for sure without proper testing. And before you say it again, you don’t have to be sorry.” You cross your arms over your chest, tilting your head at him as you change the subject and ask, “So, how are you settling in?”

“S’been alright, I reckon. Real different from what I’m used to—from what we’re both used to,” Joel answers, referring to Ellie.

“I can imagine it is. It took me a while to get used to this place when I first got here too. It’s such a different way of life, especially when you lived under FEDRA control for so long,” you empathize with him, sighing as you drop your arms back down at your sides. “You stay just a couple of houses down from Tommy and Maria, right?”

“Yeah, we’re two doors down in the brown and greenish lookin’ unit.”

“I’m in the light blue and white cottage right across from them,” you inform him, your pretty eyes twinkling as you give him a smile. “I guess that kind of makes us neighbors, doesn’t it?”

Joel’s stomach somersaults.

If you didn’t stop smiling at him like that, there was going to be a problem.

“It does,” he manages to say. Remembering Tommy’s warning from earlier, he decides it would be best for him to leave—and the quicker, the better because he’s beginning to notice how fucking easy it is to fall under your spell. He pushes himself away from the stall door. “I should probably get goin’ now. Got evenin’ patrol,” he says. “Listen, uh, I really appreciate you spendin’ time with Ellie and bein’ so kind to her. Thank you for that.” He gives you a small grateful nod and turns on the heel of his boot to leave the stall.

“Joel?”

He stops dead in his tracks, his back stiffening slightly.

The sound of your soft voice saying his name is sweet like pure, raw honey.

If he isn’t careful, he’ll become addicted to it—he fears he already is.

Swallowing harshly, Joel turns back around to face you. “Yeah?”

“We’re having this big get together tomorrow night in the barn that’s right across the way,” you say, jabbing a thumb over your shoulder. Through the small round window in the stall, he can see the very barn you’re talking about. “We do it every single year on the first day of summer. We do it for the kids more than anything, but everyone comes out.” There’s a subtle hint of shyness to your tone. “I’m not sure if Tommy or Maria have mentioned it to you yet, but there’s going to be a big barbecue, drinks, and even dancing. The whole nine yards.”

Joel has to bite back a small scoff of disbelief. “You serious?”

“Hey, the world might have ended, but people still know how to get down and party,” you joke. You observe the genuinely perplexed look that crosses his face and giggle. “I know it must sound really bizarre. But it’s a lot of fun and it’s a great way to really get to know the folks around here. I think it would be great if you and Ellie both came.”

“Ain’t too sure if it’d be Ellie’s thing. Or mine,” he admits, raking a hand nervously through his hair at the thought.

“You won’t know unless you give it a shot, Joel.” You gift him with another brilliant smile that just about makes his heart stop inside his chest. “Please?”

Joel hardly knows you.

Hell, up until five minutes ago, he hadn’t even known your fucking name—how is it possible that he can’t say no to you? A complete fucking stranger?

He thinks about it. He doesn’t like the idea of having to interact with anyone outside of his patrol duties, but if going to the damn thing means seeing you again, then he’s willing to at the very least give it a shot. 

“Maybe we’ll both stop by for a bit and check it out,” he finally replies, exhaling a sigh of defeat.

“Great!” You beam happily. “I’ll see you tomorrow night, then!”

“I’ll see you tomorrow night,” Joel repeats, giving you one last nod before turning and leaving the stall.

As he leaves the stables and heads home, he can’t help the way the corners of his mouth threaten to turn upwards at the mere thought of seeing you tomorrow night. 

Shit.

Yeah, he’s in fucking trouble. 

[wriothesleysgf]

★ you're the one i want. — alhaitham.

you visit alhaitham in his office, just before he finishes his work for the day.

notes: fluff, love-struck alhaitham.

wc: 0.9k.

three gentle knocks on alhaitham's door snapped him out of his paperwork-ridden daze. he was utterly exhausted, and you could hear just as much in his voice as he mumbled a gruff 'come in'.

his stoicism soon fled when he lay gaze on you, bright eyed and harbouring the same loving demeanour that he'd fallen for. typically others struggled to fathom a reason for why you were with him, primarily due to your contrasting dispositions, yet neither of you payed such thinking too much attention. moments like this, where you bounded into his office with a beaming smile and some fresh fruits that you'd bought in the bazaar.

"hi, my darling," alhaitham's tone was always softer with you, "it looks like somebody's been busy," he chuckled, putting his pen back into its inkwell. he pushed his chair out more, motioning for you to come and rest on his lap.

you did exactly that, putting your bag onto his desk. "a little, i finished up early so i decided to stop by. plus, i thought that you might appreciate a snack," you pecked his cheek, a blush spreading across his face. instinctively, alhaitham looked away to avoid the embarrassment — you found it utterly adorable.

"thank you, my love," his stature meant he was taller than you, even when you were sat on his thighs. it allowed for him to return your gesture, shifting himself to kiss your forehead. "i'm almost done; though you're always welcome to keep me company, i understand if it would bore you. perhaps you can head home and we can go out for a meal tonight? i fear that kaveh's attempt to make even something as simple as butter chicken may have contaminated the kitchen for the week,"

you giggled, the banter between the two roommates never failed to amuse you. "i'll stay, if that's okay," you turned to face him, soft smile beaming up at him.

"always, my love,"

getting up from alhaitham's lap, you made your way towards the extensive library in his office — surely you could find something to keep you occupied. most of the spines indicated that they were anthologies of research papers, encyclopaedias on anything and everything you could imagine one would need, and... ah! you found at least one work of fiction. it was a collection of folklore from across teyvat, ranging from tales of inazuma's yo-kai to rumours from decarabian's city. it even included local lore, including passed-down stories from desert tribes.

you sat on the opposite side of alhaitham's desk, in one of the chairs that he kept should a scholar or somebody of importance need to meet with him. the two of you were content in the comfortable silence, both getting on with your respective activities, before you began to grow a tad bored. you peeked over the top of your book, trying to eye up something else to do. when your eyes landed on some paper scraps on the desk, you were instantly reminded of a silly little thing that you used to do as a child. surely you still remembered...

without any more thought, you snapped your book closed and reached for the paper. alhaitham's curiosity meant he tried to figure out what you were up to, though when he saw your face contort in concentration, he just resumed with the final project draft that he had to review so as not to disturb you.

you folded the small pieces of paper precisely, beginning to feel that sense of childish innocence stir within you. when you were finished with the first piece, you hid it from alhaitham's sight and made another in the same manner.

"sweetheart, i'm done," he announced as you were making your final few folds. "what are you doing there?"

instead of vocalising your reply, you simply took his hand into your own, and slid a paper ring onto his finger. the man drew his hand back to admire your handiwork, giving you ample chance to slip the matching ring onto your finger.

"how lovely," he spoke, though the regular sarcasm that accompanied such phrase was absent and replaced with a more caring tone. "thank you, my love. i always assume i'd be the first to present you with a ring,"

though alhaitham was joking, you couldn't help your heart from leaping at the mere thought of spending forever with him.

he had picked up your bag and his other hand reached out to help you from your chair. usually he'd be extremely stern regarding the cleanliness of his desk at the end of the day, but honestly he found himself desperate to head out of here with you.

as you walked through the rest of the akademiya hand in hand, alhaitham's mind couldn't help but drift to the paper ring he still proudly wore on his finger. it didn't matter what others thought of such a menial thing, what truly mattered is that he felt as though it truly consolidated his love for you. after all, the ring box hidden in the very back of his bedside drawer was eating away at him, waiting to be used.

[cream-stew]

im back <<<333 all your works are so so interesting and i saw the horny reblogs you put and omg now i’m hehehdh can i request a dom kazuha and sub fem reader ? where he uses a vibrator on her in their room at the crux and he leaves for a while, and comes back to her crying and begging for him ? - 🌸

🔞minors dni

warnings: sub afab reader, use of sex toys, fingering, reader is tied up, creampie, spitting

// note: sorry for letting your request rot in my inbox for months hehe I'm a bastard <3 I hope you like this !

you're kissing and rutting against his thigh like normal, all wet and drippy in your panties already, and you can't wait to have his long cock inside you again, but he seems to have other plans today :(

he coaxes you into letting your wrists be tied to the headboard with rough rope, then your legs spread apart and tied to different bedposts so you can't even close them. he gives you some respite afterwards as he pushes your soaked panties to the side and plays with your pussy, pushing two fingers inside and scissoring them before pulling out already to taste your juices. he repeats this a few times, in between spitting down on your folds to get you even wetter, and you moan his name over and over, begging for his cock while he ignores your pleas.

when he seems satisfied enough, he pulls his fingers out of you for good and pulls the panties back in position, covering the creamy mess he made of your pussy. he moves away to retrieve something, and you start squirming in earnest when you realize it's a bullet vibrator :(

he turns it on with a grin and slips it into your panties, pressing it right against your ignored clit, and he gives you a light kiss over your stomach. "I'll be back in a few, ok? there's some stuff I have to do"

you whine again, trying to buck against the vibrator, but it's on its lowest setting and it's just not enough to make you cum :( you try to beg him to fuck you before leaving, but he just chuckles and leaves you to your devices... how mean </3

he comes back over half an hour later, and even if you realize how merciful that was, you're still so annoyed that he even left at all...

frustrated tears slide down your warm cheeks as you pant, resuming your begging immediately as he steps back inside the cabin, and he's so happy to see you in this state that he jumps over you in seconds!

he pushes your panties to the side again and his cock is immediately there to plunge inside, tho he switches to keeping the vibrator pressed against your clit with one hand, so the added stimulation has you cumming before he's even settled inside your warm pussy :(

he laughs at you, finally putting the vibrator aside, and he starts focusing on his own pleasure instead, fucking you at a steady pace as he looms over you, his head dipping down to catch one of your puffy nipples into his mouth. he sucks desperately on it as he goes to town on your sweet spot, making you cry out in pleasure and cum again in no time.

his breath is coming in short puffs now and you can tell he's about to cum soon too, so you start begging him to fill you up. he's tortured you enough already for today, so he agrees easily, and in just a couple more thrusts he's pumping his cum deep in your pussy, adding to the lewd mess he'll have to clean up afterwards, but hey, at least you're both sated <3

[darkficsyouneveraskedfor]

Life in the City 2

Warnings: this fic will include dark content such as bad friends, creep behaviour, abuse of power dynamics, and possible untagged elements. My warnings are not exhaustive, enter at your own risk.

This is a dark!fic and explicit. 18+ only. Your media consumption is your own responsibility. Warnings have been given. DO NOT PROCEED if these matters upset you.

Summary: You move to the big city and find yourself swallowed up by its chaos.

Characters: Clark Kent, Thor Odinson, short!reader

Note: A brief reprieve from the snakish prince.

As per usual, I humbly request your thoughts! Reblogs are always appreciated and welcomed, not only do I see them easier but it lets other people see my work. I will do my best to answer all I can. I’m trying to get better at keeping up so thanks everyone for staying with me.

Your feedback will help in this and future works (and WiPs, I haven’t forgotten those!) Please do not just put ‘more’. I will block you. No tag list, do not ask for updates.

I love you all immensely. Take care. 💖

You nurse your glass of wine. You're not much of a drinker, you mostly brought it for Melanie. Despite her agitation, she seems to be enjoying it. She snuggles up to Clark as you sit awkwardly at the other end of the couch.

You really shouldn't be here. The longer you sit in silence and pretend to care about the movie, the more you think of leaving. You definitely crashed their party and they're not being very subtle.

You reach for a handful of popcorn to busy yourself. The crunch blocks out Melanie's shameless whispers. She doesn't get much back but she doesn't give up. You can't find an exit plan that isn't completely obvious.

Finally, she quiets down upon getting a grunt from Clark. She nestles against him and rests her head on his shoulder as he drapes an arm over her. You can't help the pang of loneliness. You're not jealous, it's just been a while since you had someone to snuggle aside from your stuffed hippo.

You sit back as you swallow down the last of the kernels with a swig of wine. You put the wine glass on the glass coaster Melanie kept reminding you of. As the evening sets in, the room is only lit with the glow of the television. The haze of colours and alcohol itches on your eyelids.

You yawn and plant your elbow on the armrest, leaning into it as you tilt your head. Your lashes close, only for a moment before you twitch. You feel a tickle on your hip. You lift your head slightly and peer down from the corner of your vision.

Is he... touching you? Maybe it's a mistake or he doesn't realise he's doing it. You freeze, mortified. You should clear your throat or move or something...

You can't. His fingertips brush down your thigh and back up it, lingering just along the curve of your ass. You reach for your wine and he rescinds his hand, curling his arm around Melanie as she gives a delighted moan.

What was that? You're overthinking this. He probably thought it was her. Somehow. You're not sure. He's a nice guy, a stranger still, he wouldn't just touch you.

You drain the last of your wine and stand up, "just gonna pop into the bathroom."

"Whatever," Melanie dismisses as she rubs Clark's chest. 

You don't look at him but you swear you can feel his gaze on you. You circle around the back of the couch and find your way to the bathroom. You close yourself in and shake the jitters from your nerves.

You're tired and you don't know if it even happened. You've been drinking and maybe just maybe you're a little tipsy. Well, at least the movie is almost done. You can try to catch the last bus or turn in for the night if Melanie lets you have the couch.

You get yourself together and go back out. As you near the couch, Melanie and Clark quickly part, their sloppy kiss ending in a pop. You try not to give away your discomfort and resume your seat, pressing yourself against the armrest as small as you can.

"I'm getting tired, sweetie," Melanie whines.

"The movie's not done," his voice is rocky and low.

"I've seen it," she pouts.

"Well, I haven't. If you want to lay down, I'll be in when it's over," he says coolly but not unkindly.

"You can finish it tomorrow," she simpers.

"Hon, you got a friend here," he reminds her, "don't be rude."

He looks at you and sends you a smile you barely glimpse as you shy away.

"I never even invited her," she hisses under her breath.

"Go to bed, Mel," he retorts, his timbre steady, "you've had too much wine."

"I haven't had enough," she snarls.

"Honey," he softens his tone, "remember what we talked about."

She's quiet as she stares at him. You can only see the back of her head. She sniffs and leans in to kiss his cheek, "sure, sweetie, I'll be in bed..." she stands, tickling his jawline, "waiting for you.”

You give a sheepish ‘good night’ but she doesn't answer, or even look your way. You dip your chin down, embarrassed by her indifference and turn your focus back to the television. Well, not much longer and you can hide in the dark and wait for morning.

Clark bends forward to take the bowl of popcorn off the table. He sits back and offers you some as he sidles a bit closer. You shake your hand and murmur, “no thanks.” All the salt and butter is already curdling in your tummy.

He shoves a few kernels in his mouth and chews as he watches the screen. You don't enjoy it as much now. Your nostalgia sears away as the tension rises between you and him. The kiss that should be a resolution is suddenly awkward and cringe worthy.

“So,” he swallows, “how long have you known Melanie?”

His voice is like thunder in the lull. You rub your arm, his shadow lurking at the edge of your eye line as you keep your head straight. You clear your throat, “for a while… since high school.”

“Oh, wow, she never mentioned you,” he says, “what's that like ten years or something.”

“About that,” you answer. 

“I mean, don't know why it wouldn't have come up. A friend who brings snacks? That's the best kind,” he puts the popcorn down and grabs one of the coloured napkins to wipe his fingertips.

“Um, I stayed… back in our hometown. Went to school in the next city but lived at home so… just moved here to see what it's really like,” you shrug.

“Oh, just got here? How are you liking it?”

“It's… blurry,” you chuckle nervously. Didn't he want to see the end? He's talking over the whole thing.

“Yeah, I know what you mean,” he stretches his arm across the back of the couch as he reclines. He sets his knees wide as his hand rests just behind your head. “I grew up on a farm. When I got here, I was so lost.”

“A farm?”

“Oh, yeah, big wake up call, but there's not much fodder for journalism in a field,” he snorts.

“Right, you're a journalist?”

“Sure am, with The Daily Planet. Little magazine you may have heard of.”

You blanch and nearly slap yourself, “Daily Planet? Clark… Kent?”

“Ha, so you've heard of me.”

“Yeah, uh, I…” you pause. He's older than you expected but you're not surprised. Melanie always had a type. “I wrote a review of your work in my undergrad.”

“You did?” He sounds amused as he leans a bit closer.

“Sure, well, we had to choose a contemporary writer…”

“I'm flattered. You did journalism?”

“Not exactly, it was just one class,” you wilt into the armrest.

“So what do you do?”

“Well, not what I studied,” you sigh, “I work a desk job. Data analysis.”

“Riveting stuff,” he kids and nudges you playfully when you don't laugh. “You know, Mel never mentioned she grew up in a small town. She always just seemed like she was from around here.”

“Uh, yeah, well, she hated the place so…” you scratch your chin as the hest crawls up your face. “How long have you and her, er, been dating?”

“Well, three months officially. Before were were just ‘having fun’,”he brings his hands up to curl his fingers in quotation, “that's what she called it anyway.”

“Oh, well uh, she seems to really like you,” you utter dumbly.

“Yeah, I think so,” his smirk is laced in his tone.

The room goes completely quiet and suddenly the drum track begins. You watch the credits roll as Clark faces the television. He laughs, “oops, guess I wasn't paying attention.”

He drags his arm from the back of the couch as he stands, his hand grazing your shoulder. He stretches and you notice the hem of his shirt lift, a peek of his muscled stomach above the elastic of his sweatpants. You quickly dart your eyes in the other direction. 

“I should… go check on her, but can I get you anything? Water? Help dilute the wine?” He offers.

“Er, well, no, I can get some myself. I’d hate to infringe–”

“Well, I wouldn’t ask if it was a problem,” he says.

“Really, it’s fine, I think I’ve taken up enough of your time.”

He nods and glances towards the hall, “you know, it didn’t bother me having you here. I’m sorry about her.”

“You don’t have to…”

“I know she forgot. She’s done it to me too. Before we were… official,” he says the last word with punctuated syllables.

“Oh, I’m sorry–”

“See, it’s not that hard to apologise so, I’ll make sure she does,” he interjects, “and I’ll let you settle down. It’s late and I’m sure you’re exhausted. Coming all the way here after work. You really went out of your way and I had a great night. Thanks.”

“Er, yeah, sure,” you murmur, “thanks for… joining in.”

He reluctantly leaves you as you watch him with bated breath. You’re so frigging awkward. You wait until you hear the bedroom door shut before you get up, taking the wine glass with you.

You go to the kitchen and rinse out the glass, refilling it with fresh water. You bring it back to the living room and move a pillow against the armrest, pulling down the fluffy throw onto the cushions. You shut off the television and tuck yourself in, the blanket too short, even for you.

What a lame Friday night. You could’ve had more fun alone.

🌆

It takes a bit for you to even feel tired. Your body is achy and sore but your mind is racing. Finally, you manage to close your eyes for more than a few minutes. You roll over to face the back of the couch and nestle into the pillow. You yawn as you feel yourself drifting.

A high pitch leaks into your ears. You twitch and your lashes flutter. It’s just the pipes or a siren somewhere in the distance. The city sure is loud. You hear it again, something more akin to a squeak.

You shift onto your back as your stomach tingles. You cover your face with your arm and try to ignore the irritating sound but it just doesn’t stop. Your eyes snap open as you rip your arm off your head, realising what it is.

The soft low growls in return, the steady tap against the wall… it’s not the pipes or a siren. It’s Melanie. And Clark. They’re… 

You flip the pillow over your head and bend your arm around it, blocking out the noise. Just when you think you can’t get any lower. You’ve been there before. The third wheel, the wing woman. High school was just you standing against the wall as Melanie made out with boys at a party you weren’t even invited to.

Maybe things haven’t changed that much. Maybe it’s that you didn’t see what was right in front of you. The one friend you thought you had, forgets you just like everyone else. This whole thing was a mistake. Moving to the city just so you can be her tag-along.

You wallow in your self-pity and sink down into your unconscious. The world slips away from you as your dreams ripples with muddy colours. You feel as if you're floating, bobbing on soft waves, disoriented and dazed.

You wake to the clink of glass. You groan as your head aches, the cushions stiff and unforgiving. Your neck is knotted just above your shoulders. You rub your cheek and stay as you are, still under the pillow as you get your bearings. You remember where you are and cling to the dregs of sleep in your eye.

Cool air tinges your skin, your leg hooked over the blanket. You hug the crumpled throw as the night seeps icily though your pajamas. The thin short set speckled in the little red hearts offer little warmth. You reach back to pull the shorts to your thigh as it rides up and tilt onto your back.

As you do, you sense a shadow over you. You peek under the slits of your eyelids and see a figure standing just a few feet from the other end of the couch. Long breaths blow into the air. It’s too large to be Melanie. It’s him. Is he watching you?

You can’t move. You’re paralysed in horror. Why is he just standing there? Goosebumps raise on your skin. You feel a whisper against your hip where he touched you earlier. It just can’t be that. He’s too nice.

You don’t know what to do so you close your eyes and lay completely still. You measure your breath as you wait. There’s a soft thunk as he sets down a glass on the table by the armrest and walks up the side of the couch.

Don’t move, don’t move, don’t move…

He tugs on the throw and spreads it over you as best he can. His fingers drag up your arm and he lingers, stroking your cheek as you resist the urge to pull away. He lets out a low growl and lumbers away, swiping up his glass as he goes.

You let your eyes open and catch a glimpse of his silhouette. His back is bare and thickly corded. The moonlight limns his muscles just before he disappears into the hall. You shudder as you release the heavy breath from your chest.

The bedroom door snaps shut as you clutch the blanket tight. It starts again. Melanie’s moans, Clark’s grunts, and the knocking of the bed frame. Quicker than before, almost furious. You just want this night to end.

[lookinghalfacorpse]

hello

In what way do you think Dream is disabled/affected post-prison and if he does, what do you think he does to hide it?

permission to yap granted

this is what i do in most of my fics, so i have a good amount of content to go through. i could keep yapping, honestly, but i wanted to include the main things that cause my brainrot. gross pictures under the cut.

muscle atrophy. this happens quickly as the body enters starvation mode and begins to burn proteins. there would be a visible decrease in muscle mass, he would feel very weak and his limbs might tingle. recovery is possible, but isn't as easy as i think many people portray. the body is smart and will reduce its basal metabolic rate to adjust for a long period of starvation, and even after leaving the prison, his body would be primed and ready for another period of starvation. his body has learned that his environment doesn't provide consistent food. the body cannot 'reset' after a normal calorie intact resumes. the body keeps the score, or whatever they say. (i looked at a lot of pictures from 'the starvation experiment'. it lasted a little less than a year and was a setting where participants were carefully kept alive. most men lost 25% of their weight and only returned to their pre-study weight after 2 years of extensive treatment and therapy. u know cdream ain't seein a therapist. pictures under the cut)

quickened mouth decay / mouth dryness. on the topic of starvation, the mouth is actually one of the first places affected during a period of starvation. we don't make the saliva that we should when we aren't eating, and without saliva, the mouth begins to rot. this, along with fasting headaches, would be one of the first things he notices in the prison. it would be fixed pretty quickly upon eating normally.

seizures. many things can cause seizures to begin in someone who wasn't born with an epileptic condition, and dream's experienced most of them: starvation, head trauma, nerve damage, severe vitamin d deficiency, severe sodium deficiency, severe stress. these may decrease in frequency as he heals, but he'll be at greater risk if he fasts for any amount of time or if he's stressed. low-level muscle spasms are also going to be common.

impaired night vision/ decreased overall visual acuity. malnutrition does a ton of funky things, including to the eyes. he'd probably have a harder time adjusting to nighttime; i imagine returning to the prison is comfortable for this reason because he can control the brightness. hazy, eroded corneas are also common and might be visible to others. i put a picture under the cut. notice the green hue.

weakened immunity. like many others have mentioned, he will emerge from that cell with a paper-thin immune system. he'll be particularly weak to pneumonia and other respiratory diseases-- muscle atrophy also effects the muscles of the lungs.

essential tremors. just a fancy word for constant shaking. these could be psychological in nature, given the, you know, torture, but there are some links between malnutrition and tremors as well. he might try to hide it with weighted gloves.

improper amputation. "improper" is certainly a word for it, i know, but i want to emphasize that the kind of chop c!quackity would perform is nowhere near the level of a professional, surgical amputation. wearing a prosthetic would be very painful to say the least, especially if it isn't hand-crafted to suit his residual limb. i think cdream would probably try to endure that pain for the sake of hiding a major amputation, ie leg or arm, but i'm not sure he'd worry much about something like a finger. losing fingers doesn't affect grip strength as much as you might think, and i feel like thats all he'd really care about.

panic attacks, ptsd, memory loss, depression, hallucinations. just being locked in a single room for that long, let alone being tortured in it, would be enough for any of these symptoms. we have canon evidence for many of these, of course.

whatever other symptoms his injuries caused. depending on what tendons/muscles/bones quackity targeted, we might be looking at some different symptoms. i'm a big fan of concussion headcanons, and stiffness/immobility around scar tissue.

ultimately, i think the best bets for cdream as far as HIDING these effects are thick clothing, ill-fitting prosthetics, weighted gloves, moving in daylight, and avoiding confrontation. he'd probably want to prioritize mobility training to regain some dexterity and coordination, and to ensure that he can run away even if he can't fight.

^ eroded cornea

^ the starvation experiment

[yndrgrl]

Could u do a aizawa fic pls

you found a new job under yandere! aizawa as a nanny for his cute kid

age gap. quirkless! au. soft! yandere. dom! aizawa

warning: nsfw, stalking, smacking/slapping, slight coercion??, punishment, daddy kink, sir kink, creampie

a/n: yayyy, first request 🥳 idk if you wanted a fluff or spicy fanfic... so i chose spicy haha. also sorry for taking so long, i just started a new job :0

---

it was a chance encounter, you truly believed. your first year of college just came to a close, & now you had too much free time while the money in your bank account was slowly declining. even if you saved as much as possible, you'd still end up spending all of your money then you'd have to dip into your savings account-- something that you didn't want to do.

so that began your search for a job. you used websites, applied in-person. you thought your resume was solid enough to land a job by now. but no. even though they claimed they were desperately hiring, they never hired you. some had the curtesy to at least let you know that they weren't going to go with you; the rest completely ghosted you. from receptionist to substitute teacher to bank teller, they all rejected you.

it was extremely frustrating to go through the interviewing process then you were ultimately rejected. it was as if someone had it out for you.

that chance encounter happened while you were on the phone with your best friend. you sat at a small round table in a cafe you frequent often.

"i just don't get it, jirou!" you exasperated, taking a sip from your drink. you let out a heavy sigh. with how much effort you've put into finding a new job, you should've been paid.

"i'm sure momo's dad has a job for you," the girl on the other line tried to assure. she was on her daily jog, so she was slightly out of breath as she spoke.

with your face propped in your hand, you responded, "we already tried. all the available positions are for people with like, actual degrees or something. besides, we're not close enough for her to make a whole new job for me."

"i'm sure a job will fall right into your lap," jirou said, rustles of clothes being picked up in the phone microphone. in some sort of messed-up irony, she was getting ready for work. the universe just loved toying with you.

you took a breath in to exclaim how much you needed the money, needed a job, when a man pulled out the chair across from your table. "i'm sorry, i don't mean to be rude & eavesdrop," he began, catching your attention.

"sorry jirou, i'll call you back in just a sec," you whispered, then you hung up. "um, sorry, can i help you?" you took mental note of his appearance-- you know, just in case something happens in this very public, very populated cafe.

just by looks, you'd assume he was in his early thirties. his jet black hair was tied into a bun, stray strands framing his face. there were bags under his eyes-- along with a noticeable scar under his left one. though his disheveled appearance, he took care of himself; his stubble was even & maintained. his shirt was tight around his arms & his chest, & you could faintly make out the shape of his muscles. & god, were they big. he was alluring, with that slight smirk of his.

he would've intimidated you, maybe even set off red flags if he didn't have a toddler bouncing on his leg, tugging his hair out of its bun. she bubbled words & strung together incoherent sentences in beg of attention of her dad.

"i apologize again, i really didn't mean to eavesdrop," he repeated. "it's just i couldn't help but overhear you were looking for a job?"

"yes!" you exclaimed, clearing your throat with an embarrassed blush on your face. "i am looking for a job."

"are you interested in being a live-in nanny for my little girl?"

it was a chance encounter, you truly believed.

the job & its perks were almost too perfect, but you're not complaining. you got to move into the basement of his suburban home for free, he would cook you breakfast & make sure the fridge & cabinets were well-stocked. for nearly $25 an hour, you were living the dream.

eri, his -adoptive- daughter, was an absolute gem as well. she was a cheery toddler who loves life. she's not a picky eater, she loves picking out her own outfits, & if you turned off her show, she would pout for a little bit then bounce back for the next activity. never once has she screamed & shouted. she would cling onto her father almost all the time when he was home.

speaking of her father, you learned his name was shota aizawa, so, naturally, you call him mr. aizawa or sir. he would constantly ask you would other things you wanted, not needed. he would take you shopping, calling it a bonus. your living area was decorated, & you didn't even have to pay a dime! there were times where you felt more like a sugar baby than a nanny, in all honesty.

not that you minded. one look at him & you could already feel your heart beat quicken. maybe it was your daddy issues that just scream when you choose a guy you're into, but he was exactly your type. he's protective, yet soft. strong, yet humble.

you thought you hid your crush on him quite well, treating him as though he were any other person. sometimes you felt like he knew you were so utterly attracted to him.

"y/n," he called out, drawing you out of thought.

"u-uh yes sir?" you replied. you were dressed down still as it was the morning. he just finished breakfast & eri was fast asleep, bound to wake up at any moment. it was just the two of you.

"are you okay?" he asked. aizawa awaited for your answer while he plated your breakfast. he always insisted so you learned to let him.

as he walked towards you with your plate, you answered, "yeah, i'm okay."

he set down the plate in front of you from behind. aizawa bent over so his head was leveled with yours. both of his arms encased you, & if it weren't for the back of your chair, you would've been pressed against his chest. "are you sure?" he whispered into your ear. "i'm hear to listen, if you'd let me."

you turned your head to look at him because, somewhere in your strange logic, you thought it would've reduced the tension & made you less embarrassed. it did the opposite.

the tips of your noses touched, his lips only a few centimeters from yours. with half-lidded eyes, the way he looked at you made you quiver. you tried to create space between the two of you, only for your head to meet his arm. centimeters turned to an inch of space. "i-i am okay," you repeated.

"aw, don't lie to me," he said in teasing voice, but you could've been imagining it. "i know it's been hard, tell me about it~" you never would've thought he would have this amount of confidence-- mainly because, if he did, he should've been bringing home loads of women.

"i-i, it's just, um," you stumbled over your words. he had a smirk, amused. his eyes glanced down to your glossy, shaky lips, then back into your doe eyes, just waiting.

"daddy," eri called from the top of the staircase.

"y/n," he whispered.

"y-yes, mr. a-aizawa?"

"eat your food before it gets cold." & with that, he pulled away from you, sauntering upstairs to grab eri. left stunned, you picked at your food.

oh, how you loved telling your friends about how hot your boss is.

after that incident, you had to tell all your friends about it, so, during your guys' weekly, weekend, late night group facetime.

"oh, my god!" uraraka squealed. "you HAVE to tell us more."

"yeah, that's literally so hot," jirou laughed. "see! you found a perfect job."

you had your phone propped against some random bottle as you snuck into the kitchen to fix yourself something to eat. another thing about eri is that, once she's asleep, nothing is waking that girl up. as for aizawa, he's usually up doing something else-- which explains the bags under his eyes & his scheduled naps.

while you dumped your noodles into a pot of boiling water, you said into your phone, "i'm not even exaggerating, it was the hottest thing to ever happen to me."

giggles erupted from your phone. "well, to be fair, you haven't had much luck with guys in the past," mina stated. it was true. while you were in high school -& this past year of college- you really didn't connect with any guys.

"maybe the problem was that they were all her age," joked jirou. hysterical laughter followed after. you were bent over, trying to catch your breath.

"that's not true! i could go for guys our age," you tried to defend yourself.

"okay, let's name every single one of your crushes ever," tsu said, her camera angle only showing her eyes.

all the other girls started to spit out whoever they could think of.

"remember keigo? he was like, 2 years older than us," momo said.

"that's not even that bad," you rolled your eyes, stirring your noodles & adding the seasoning packet.

"oh yeah?" jirou challenged, "what about shoto-"

"he's our age!" you cut her off to save yourself the embarrassment. "besides i didn't even like him."

"yeah cuz you liked his DAD," jirou finished, to which even more bowls of laughter erupted. okay, maybe you did have a thing for older guys.

"oh wow, y/n, i didn't know you had a thing for older guys," a voice spoke from behind you. you jumped, letting out a yelp.

your phone blasted all of your friends' laughter until you grabbed your phone & hung up. "o-oh hey, sir," you stuttered out. you hid your phone behind your back as if you were caught doing something wrong. you felt your phone vibrate, your friends begging to be on call again. "how much did you hear?"

"not much," shrugged aizawa as he grabbed a glass cup from the cabinet above you. that's when you realized how warm he was, how flushed his face was, how messy his hair fell. that's when you realized he was wearing nothing but a pair of sweatpants & a small towel around his neck.

"wh-what are you doing up," you coughed, taking in his physic-- just for a second, of course. veins protruded up his muscular biceps down his forearms. his pecs were in front of your face. they were well-toned. his washboard abs rose with every breath he took. you let yourself quickly -& ever so sneakily- glance downward. smaller veins & a trail of black hair were like arrows, pointing down his sweatpants. you gulped. was it normal to have a bulge that big-

"you know, it's rude to stare, y/n," aizawa whispered in your ear before pulling away. he walked toward the fridge that had a water dispenser attached to the freezer door. "i just need a cup of water after my workout," he answered in his regular voice to her question.

"oh, nice, nice," you said. a tense, awkward silence followed afterwards. "i-i'm sorry, i didnt mean to," you swallowed, "stare."

"right, i'm sure." & with that said, he left upstairs to get ready for bed.

aizawa loved teasing cute, little you. how could he not? your reactions were simply priceless. your face would get pink while you tried desperately to hide your embarrassment. your skittish eyes darted around the room just to avoid eye contact.

you weren't going to speak up because he knew that you "secretly" loved it. you'd probably make some lame excuse to defend yourself. you'd say, "well i'll let it slide just this once because i really need this job." which was the truth, it just wasn't the entire truth. aizawa knew though. he knew how much you craved his closeness.

he loves teasing you, but he's not a monster.

that's why he whispers in your ear, caging you between him & some other surface. he fed into your fantasies while fueling his own.

he thinks about you. all the time. more than you'll ever know.

what you believed to be a chance encounter was -in fact- a calculated, perfectly-executed plan concocted by aizawa. you might've never noticed him until he introduced himself, but you're so eye catching; it was only natural for him to notice you.

at first, he cursed himself to the moon & back for being attracted to someone ten years younger than him. you're only twenty-three, why is he so charmed by you?

determined to find a fault in your character, he learned your daily routine, find your social handles, grasping at anything. he was expecting to find out that maybe you're so much of an alcoholic that you practically live at a bar or that you have eighteen children with twelve different guys. but no, he found nothing terrible about you.

all of your habits he found adorable-- especially the face you make when you're frustrated. he would watch from afar as you grunted & groaned at your laptop screen. the day at the cafe he figured out why you were so upset lately.

that's why he offered you the job, out of the kindness of his heart. no other reason.

he just wanted to make sure that you stay happy & safe, which is why he installed secret cameras in the basement before you moved in.

he loved to tease you. he loved to rile you up.

he'd tease you so badly that you -at the dead of night- spread you legs wide towards the camera & play with yourself with your fingers, moaning desperately for him. all while aizawa watched you.

tonight was different though because, with the money he gave you, you bought yourself something new. tonight, you had a bright pink vibrator stimulate your clit while your eyes rolled back in ecstasy. aizawa was offended, in all honesty. it was almost like you were mocking him.

he could do better than some toy. you should've known that. he was angry, aroused, & ready to make his move.

you were unsuspecting. usually you were hyper-aware of your surroundings when you masterbated, scared of getting caught. however, this was your first time using a vibrator, & god, it felt so good. you've never experienced anything like it before. blood rushed to your ears as you could only listen to the vibrations & your choked-back moans.

aizawa crept down the stairs, into your basement. the floorboards would creak as a warning, but they fell on deaf ears. he opened the door to the basement, sneaking in. the only light that was on was a dimly lit lamp from your room. "ngh, ah." he heard your muffled moans, & his cock twitched in anticipation.

he bursted through the door, making you jump back & pull the closest thing over the bottom half of yourself. "s-sir! i-is something wrong?" you asked in a high-pitched voice as you tried to calm yourself down.

he gave you a glare, & you felt like you were in trouble, preparing for some sort of punishment. even though you didn't do anything wrong, it was him who barged in. "what. the fuck. do you think you're doing?" he seethed, closing the bedroom door. you were exposed, your juices so clearly staining your sheets.

"wh-what are you talking about-"

"don't give me that, y/n. you've been such a bad girl," he growled. aizawa stalked closer towards you as you gulped.

"n-no i haven't, i don't know what you mean, sir," you managed to say, watching him walk to the side of your bed.

"what were you doing then, hm?" he questioned with a mocking smirk. "tell me. i'd hate to do something brash over a misunderstanding."

"i-i was just laying down," you lied. he was standing at the edge of your bed, & you turned towards him. your gaze was met with his aching bulge, & you gushed all over your bed once more. you tried covering up the squelching with a yawn. "i-i'm kinda tired, you know." you were still staring at his crotch, licking your lips subconsciously.

suddenly, his hand shot to your face, his palm covering your mouth while his thumb & middle finger dug into your cheeks. "don't lie to me~ you were touching yourself, weren't you? using a dirty toy while you thought about me, hm?" you tried shaking your head but he grasped harder, making you still. "i said, don't fuckin' lie to me." he made you nod your head yes while you look up into his lusted eyes.

"you're such a bad girl, & you should know that i don't tolerate any kind of bad behavior," he informed, his gaze never breaking away from yours. "i'm going to sit down, & you're going to lay belly-down on my lap, alright, baby?"

you shook your head no once again, embarrassed. you knew that, the moment you would do that, he would catch you. after all, from the waist down, you had no clothing. "no?" he repeated in an almost sing-songy voice. "no?"

it happened so fast. one minute you were disobeying him, the next you were on his lap, just as he wanted. the baggy crop top rode up the arch of your back, & now you were practically naked -ass up- on your boss' lap. you buried your face into your messy duvet. you felt your core leak onto your inner thighs, hoping aizawa didn't notice your arousal. he did though; he loved it.

his fingers stroked your pussy as he slurred, "what a naughty girl, gettin' wet for me. y'know how much older i am, don't ya?"

you nodded your head, dripping onto his fingers.

"& ya still want me?"

you nodded, this time with a small squeak. he pulled your head back with his other hand entangled in your hair. "what was that, baby?"

"y-yes," you whispered out, hyperfixated on his fingers that teased you.

"yes what?"

"yes, i-i want you, sir," you moaned out. his middle finger ghosted over your clit, & you jolted closer to him for more friction.

"aww, you're so cute," he purred as he let go of your hair, allowing you to fall back into your bed. "it's a shame that you were so impatient though," he said with faux pity, "i have to punish you."

"no, please," you whined. "that's not fair!"

"not fair? oh darling, you brought this on yourself," he laughed. aizawa drew his hand away from your aching pussy, much to your dismay. the hand came back down, thrashing your ass cheek. you let out a muffled scream into your blanket as you were pushed forward with his force.

"what's wrong, y/n? can't handle a bit of spanking?"

"n-no! i-i want you... i-inside of me," you stuttered out with a red-tinted cheeks.

"aww, do you?"

you nodded eagerly. he, in response, growled lowly, "you're going to learn your lesson. i don't want to hear anymore whining. you're going to be my good girl, & take it, right?"

you just nodded again.

smack!

"i said, you're going to be a good girl for me, aren't you?"

"y-yes, sir!"

smack!

you let out a moan, looking back at him with teary eyes. you wanted an explanation why he spanked you again. you did everything right, didn't you? you were a good girl.

"you didn't apologize."

"i-i'm s-so sorry, daddy," you gasped out, then tried to explain why you called him that. "i-i didn't-"

smack!

"you're going to keep calling me that, right?"

"y-yes, daddy." your ass stung bright red, & you felt the tingling sensation as the blood rushed to your asscheeks. aizawa let his hand graze over you, squeezing you ever so slightly.

"sit up, & look at me, y/n," he commanded in a softer tone than before. mindlessly & eagerly, you sat up onto his lap. one hand gripped on your hip while the other was placed behind your back. you wrapped your arms around his neck to stay sitting up. he leaned in for a kiss, lips pressed against your plush ones. with the hand behind your back, he glided his nails over your back.

his tongue slid over your bottom lip before invading your mouth. you let out a moan as he kissed you. he was the one to pull away, you unconsciously leaned into him for another kiss. you were snapped out of your lust when he dove into your neck, nipping & kissing all over. between hickeys, he whispered, "see? good girls get a reward."

you just let out breathless moans. your arms were still around his neck while he lowered you onto the bed. "baby, i don't ever wanna punish you again," aizawa lied, slipping your crop top over your head before throwing it on the floor. he took of his shirt, chuckling when he saw how pink your ears got. "you know why i had to punish you though, don't you?"

"y-yes, i do, d-daddy," you stuttered out. it was hard to focus while he dragged his tongue over your body. he bit your collarbone, sucked on your tits, kissed down your torso. it was all so distracting.

"why did i have to punish you, y/n?"

"because i-i was p-playing with myself without y-your permission," you told him, sighs in between every word. you don't know how or when your legs were over his shoulders, & you didn't notice until he spoke.

every annunciation blew warm air to your throbbing heat. "such a smart girl, y/n~" he praised, his onyx eyes locking with your doe eyes. you didn't have to say anything, he could tell by your facial expressions how badly you needed him. he kitten-licked your pussy; it was so little, yet you couldn't help but squeak in delight.

"oh, my god," you moaned out, throwing your head back as he began to lap your juices. he groaned as his tongue flicked your clit.

"you taste so fuckin' good, baby," he uttered, diving back for more.

"thank you, daddy," you said, you didn't even know if he still wanted to punish you, but there was a chance that he did, & you didn't want this to stop.

"good girl."

he stimulated your clit with his tongue while three fingers pumped in & out of your hole. he pulled away from your pussy for a second, demanding, "look at me when you cum, got it?"

"yes d-daddy!" you yelled out, self-restraint turning into the opposite. a pressure built inside your core, threatening to pop at any second. you looked down, tears of pleasure & neediness rolling down your pink cheeks. "i-i'm gonna cum. please keep going, i'm gonna cum!" you let out a string of pleads & moans as you came all over aizawa's face.

he stood up, slipping off his pants & boxers. he kicked them away as he towered over you. he was standing on the edge of the bed while you lied with your legs spread. "you want me, y/n? you really want me?" he asked because if you wanted him to stop, he would. if you wanted him to do anything, he'd do it.

"i really want you," you said as sincerely as someone who just climaxed could say anything. "i-i just don't want this to be a one-time thing," you admitted.

he laughed, lining his cock with your entrance as he stroked your cheek with his thumb. "trust me, baby. this is not a one-time thing, i'm so addicted to you, y/n. you don't even know." he finished his short-lived speech by shoving his girthy dick into your cunt, & you remembered just how dominate aizawa was. you let out a scream due to the pain, unexpectedness, & utter pleasure you got all in a single moment.

his thrusts were soft & slow at first. you could feel every inch leave then plunge back into your weeping hole. "d-d-daddy, you're so big," you moaned while you wrapped your arms around his neck.

his pace picked up, hips jerking against you. your tits jiggled with every thrust, claps every time he went back inside you. he abused your sensitive g-spot, ramming himself in & out of you. your hands unraveled themselves around his neck, your nails digging into his muscular back. you let out babbles how you couldn't take it, how you were going stupid, & how you were going to cum. he groaned in response, "if you're saying anything other than daddy or more, shut your fuckin' mouth & take it like a good girl."

"n-ngh, ahhh, yesss daddy," you slurred, eyes rolling to the back of your head. you wanted him to slow down so you could think again, but you liked being mindless, you liked how you didn't have the energy or will power to think about anything in this fucked-up world. all that mattered in that moment was you, aizawa, & how good the two of you felt.

"you're so fuckin' beautiful, baby," he groaned, he couldn't help but compliment you. how could he not? you looked even better pinned under him than he imagined. "so tight for me."

"please let c-cum with me, daddy," you begged. he didn't respond for a second, & you started to doubt yourself.

"wh-where," he groaned out, thrusts becoming rough & sloppy.

"what?"

he was losing composure. "where do you want me to cum?"

"inside," you answered quickly, wrapping your legs around his waist. you felt like you were in control now. "i-i want you inside of me when i cum all over your cock, d-daddy~"

"y/n. don't say stupid shit," he warned, knowing damn well he'd fold in an instant. you kept moaning with every thrust, begging for him to cum.

"p-please~ daddy, i deserve it. i-i've been a good girl," you whimpered. you jutted your bottom lip in a pout & tried to give your best puppy-dog eyes. every thrust he could see you twitch in pleasure, your expression couldn't hide how much you were enjoying this.

"fuckin' brat," he scowled. he watched you as you figured out how much power you truly have over him. he couldn't blame you for extorting it because that's what he did to you. at the end of the day though, you won.

he became sloppy & fast. his cock twitched inside of you when he saw your slutty expression-- tongue hanging out of your mouth, cheeks red, tears running down your face, eyes begging. & it was all because of him, how he fucked you. he was the cause of such a beautiful thing. finally, with a single thrust, he buried himself deep within you, cumming.

whiteness painted your insides while you came around him, clenching his twitching prick. "a-aizawa!" you screamed out in pure ecstasy.

deep breathes, panting, & sighs of content followed afterwards. he slipped out of your gaping hole, his sperm leaking out of your pussy. he climbed into your bed, coddling you. you were still shaky, senses heighten. you placed your head on his chest, listening to his heart beat slow.

he pulled the covers over the two of you. aizawa said while massaging your scalp, "you okay, baby?"

"mhm," you hummed, "i-i just never been fucked like that before."

he laughed, then kissed the top of your head. "i promise that this won't be the last time, y/n. i'm all yours." though he didn't say it, he was thinking, besides, guys your age won't know what to do with a bad girl like you.

[hms-no-fun]

What's your opinion on the new HS^2 update? I'm really excited it's back but I'm a little worried. Like, the fandom has had a real problem with pretending all the horrible shit that caused it to end in the first place never happened. Is this just gonna sweep that under the rug even more? Is James Roach heading the project because he's less "problematic"? I love James roach and I'm sure he'll do great but what about all the transphobia? I just hope they finally fulfill the Toblerone Prophesy and make June Egbert cannon.

short version is, i'm cautiously optimistic! but this is a loaded question you've given me on a lot of fronts, so i'm gonna try to take it piece by piece.

to start with, the sudden revival of Homestuck^2 (now minus the squared) took me by surprise because to my knowledge, it was entirely dead in the water. my involvement with anything Official ended at Pesterquest, and pretty much the entire post-canon crew i was friends with in 2019-20 has moved on to greener pastures. i share a similar sentiment with @pochapal in that i would have put money on hs2 staying dead forever. i have, quite frankly, dreaded the inevitable day when official Homestuck media would resume production, because the fandom at large seems quite eager to sweep the ceaseless harassment and transphobia that ended hs2 under the rug and pretend that it just, like you said... never happened. when that california cafe used older Pesterquest-like character designs that omitted short chubby Terezi and black-coded Roxy, however well-intentioned and ultimately harmless that was, it felt like a sign of things to come. that, as you fear, the sharper & more personal queerness that we tried to bring to this series would be erased, in favor of something meant to simultaneously appease both tenderqueers and redditors, two sects of the fandom most responsible for the aforementioned harassment.

luckily, that really doesn't seem to be the case!

to your worry that James Roach was made director because he's "less problematic," i'll just say that's entirely the wrong way to look at it. it's not like WP (such that it even still exists) were cruising to get HS2 back up and running. by all accounts, James is the only reason it's happening again in the first place. i can't stress enough just how small an operation this Homestuck business actually is (or, at least, was when i was involved). this is not a Huge Corporation making cynical cash grab decisions. this is someone who cares about the material pushing to get something made where otherwise there would be nothing. check the new About page, where the principles of the so-called Homestuck Independent Creative Union are laid out in plain terms. this is something the original hs2 team fought for, so for this new version to start from there as square one is huge and a good sign of the possible longevity of the project.

next, let's talk about the question of this new team erasing the legacy of the old one. Kate Mitchell is on the record that she was reached out to about this new hs2, approved it, and declined to be involved. i don't know if the other writers were reached out to, but i have no reason to believe they weren't. this is a tremendously important gesture of good faith and goes a long way towards easing some of these worries.

but let's look at the composition of the team itself. do you remember The Perfectly Generic Podcast? originally hosted by future hs2 writer Kate, pgen became a flashpoint for community discourse, often opening doors between official homestuck and homestuck fandom. what made that show special was that, rather than relying on the imo tired genre of the liveread, pgen focused on a different topic each episode and explored it with one or two qualified guests. Kate's goal with the show was to encourage a more adult and quasi-academic discussion of homestuck, of its successes and its failures. if you weren't there, the weight i'm putting on pgen might seem overblown (not least because you can't find it anywhere anymore except on the internet archive). but it's not! when they decisively criticized the wild contents of the Skaianet debacle in episode 19, Andrew listened and worked to bring a more diverse group of creators into the fold. in the months after the Epilogues were released, Andrew issued a statement through pgen on episode 52 about how the Epilogues are meant to create bridges and offramps for the post-canon fandom. it's an essential piece for understanding the epilogues and their relationship to fanworks! that it wasn't included as the author's introduction to the Epilogues in the book version remains to my mind an astonishing oversight, but whatever. point is, pgen mattered to the folks in charge.

so let's look again at the writing staff of this new crew. James Roach first guested on pgen in episode 7, and would go on to be a regular. Haven, who did the Vriska and Roxy sprites in Pesterquest (and probably more stuff i don't remember), guested in episodes 81 and 87. Miles guested on episode 87 as well (unless it's a different Miles, i'm not familiar with their work and ugh this damnable linkrot). Floral, creator of one of my favorite hs fanworks & huge godfeels influence Liminal Space, first guested on pgen in episode 47, and would go on to be a regular (including once during my tenure as host to talk about Jade). on the technical staff side, Kohi built the hs2 website and has remained a backend mainstay both on the WP side and on Vast Error.

all of which is to say, if you were looking for a crew to cynically erase the past and appease the haters, these probably aren't the folks that'd be at the top of your list. of course, if you *really* wanted to cynically erase the past and appease the haters, you wouldn't bother reviving hs2 in the first place!

and that's the crux of the matter here. what cash is there to grab? what clout could possibly be chased? i struggle to think of a decision less obviously profitable and popular than continuing hs2 with a new crew right where it left off. i have to believe this is happening because the people involved want to make it.

so, yeah, i'm cautiously optimistic. i like this crew, i like the contents of the first upd8, and i'm glad as hell it's not a reboot! i'm grateful that by reviving hs2, the hs:bc crew have instantly yanked the epilogues & the post-canon project back into relevance in the broader community. and i always liked hs2 a lot! i was excited to see where they were going! i'm really looking forward to seeing more YIFFY!!!!!

but the thing is, this won't be the hs2 i wanted. i know that, and i'm not expecting it. my greatest hope for hs:bc, for this crew, is that they get the chance to take up the reins and drive this thing in whatever direction they feel most passionate about. if that winds up looking like the hs2 that was originally planned, great-- but more than anything, i want everyone on this team to feel just as empowered to leave a profound and personal mark on this series as the original team did, as i did working on Pesterquest. i hope the outline changes! i hope they take some really wild swings! i want to be surprised!! i want to be challenged!!!

above all, i want them to have the chance to pick a course, sail it, and see it through to the end regardless of what the public thinks. they deserve the chance that the original crew didn't get.

i have plenty of bitterness and cynicism in my heart over the events and circumstances of 2019-20, but as far as i'm concerned it has no place here today. i would never, ever wish the trauma and stress of that era on anyone. let the fandom at large react in whatever way it will, but i want things to be different this time. this is a second chance-- not just for hs2/hs:bc, but for all of us. even people who hate homestuck post-canon! this is an opportunity for everyone to choose to be better this time, and to push back when others might squander that opportunity. this team is not a group of celebrities, not an abstract fiction on the other side of the world, they are human beings who took a job. they've earned the opportunity to do that job, and they deserve to be treated with the respect and dignity that was so often absent a few years ago.

as to your last point, about june egbert and the toblerone. i've been saying for years that andrew's confirmation of june was less "the granting of a wish" than it was "a spoiler shared without input from the creative team." that there is any doubt about june's providence in hs2 can only be attributed to willful, aggressive ignorance on the part of people who refuse to engage with the written word in any way other than plodding literalism. the original team didn't unveil june ~immediately~ because they didn't think of june as a wish, they thought of her as a character in an ongoing story who needed time to develop naturally. i have never not felt entirely crazy about how thick everyone has been about this!

but will the new team make june canon? obviously i have no way of knowing for sure, but i'm gonna go out on a limb and say that probably the answer is "yes, when they're good and goddamned ready." just, please, for the love of god, don't go after every upd8 like "where's june? where's june? why hasn't june yet????" this was one of the worst results of the toblerone spoiler and it put INSANE pressure on the hs2 team. so just... just let this story be what it is. let this new team make the homestuck continuation they want to make.

and in the meantime, if you're really hungry for june... there's always godfeels :)

[junowritings]

Hello ☺️💚

I hope I can request something, if they are closed please feel free to delete this 🌺🌺

I absolutely I adored your NRC amnesiac MC story with the dorms and would love to see more. It just hit all the tropes I love so much and adore.

Maybe with the rest of the dorms? As scenarios?? Or imagines?? (Honestly I’m a confused when it comes to those terms, so whichever is easier for you)

With pomefiore, ignihyde, and diasomnia? I feel like Vil is going to take one look at mc and go “okay, time to take care of another potato” but lovingly, ignihyde is going ortho is “I have another sibling” and gosh diasomnia is practically family and lilia is going “time to adopt another one 👏👏”

I just found the idea so so cute, but feel free to do whatever you want ☺️🌺

Right so first off I'M SORRY THIS TOOK SO LONG I'M SO HAPPY YOU LIKED THE ORIGINAL ONE!!! Also thank you so much for all the kind comments that you leave on my post I see every single one and it still makes my day to re-read them!

But also GOD I love this idea too and I got way too carried away with this. There's a lot of TWST I gotta catch up on (haven't been able to start chapter 7 yet) so I had to work with what I've got in terms of knowledge of Diasomnia.

I hope this was well worth the wait~! (OG scenario here btw)

Pomefiore

♡ Time passes at Night Raven College, and life continues to move on, as it always has. It’s been months without a single shred of your memories resurfacing, and with no sign of anything returning anytime soon the attention has turned from your past, to your present. Your memory loss has become a simple fact of life at this point, a reality that you had to put on the back burner with everything else that had happened since your arrival and during the winter holidays. You’re thankful that the needless prodding seems to have died down by the time that students start returning back to the school and classes resume. Things return to the only sense of normalcy you’ve ever known, and you think you can get used to this without another incident.

♡ Until VDC happens.

♡ Ramshackle is the only place you have to call home, but even you can admit that it needs a lot of work. It’s a poor excuse for a building, considering the state that it had been left in far before anyone called it home. It at least had running water, and electricity, but compared to the other dorms and their meticulous upkeep by both students and staff, Ramshackle is most certainly the odd dorm out with only two members and a handful of ghosts to its name. And yet it’s the place that the headmaster deems an acceptable place to host the VDC group during their month ‘training camp’.

♡ It makes it easier knowing that you’re good friends with the majority of the group, having been through plenty before the training camp even started. In some weird way it’s kind of like a month-long sleepover with your friends and classmates, not unlike the times Kalim’s dragged you over to Scarabia for the night in the name of making fond memories. Still, you can’t help but feel cautious around the Pomfiore members you now have living under your roof, and how little you actually know about them.

♡ By this point, the fact that you’ve got no memories prior to ending up in Twisted Wonderland is pretty much common knowledge amongst the people who bother to keep tabs on you. And considering how Pomefiore’s got the likes of Rook, a skilled hunter who has a penchant for people watching anyone who catches his eye, you’ve got no doubts that they’re well aware of your circumstances.

♡That, and Crowley’s a loudmouth when it comes to his generosity about your ‘unfortunate situation’. That headmaster is really starting to test your patience…

♡ While Vil is strict, he’s by no means cruel, and is at least polite when you first allow them all into your home. He thankfully doesn’t pity you like you worried he would - you’ve had enough of the pitying looks some people give you when they think you’re not looking. Your lack of a past isn’t something you want to dwell on, Vil can see that clearly with how thoroughly you throw yourself into the training camp alongside your friends and new acquaintances. Not to mention that you act as a surprisingly good buffer between the members whenever tensions start to arise with the upcoming deadline. 

♡ It’s admirable really - a single minded little spudling if he’s ever seen one. You’ve got promise, if you keep up that resilient attitude, so Vil offers you no quarter in getting you just as involved in this little training excursion as the others are, if only to help you flourish with enough memories of this upcoming event to last you for a lifetime. 

♡ With that being said your thirst for knowledge isn’t to be underestimated, and once you find out that Vil’s pretty much a celebrity and acting prodigy you’re intrigued. Vil’s walking past the living room after the group’s come back from another day training at the ballroom and freezes once he hears his own voice coming through the door. Sure enough you’re lounging over the couch watching one of the more obscure movie titles Vil’s acted in on the phone Crowley ‘gifted’ you before winter break. There’s a blunt honesty when you praise his work once you notice you’ve got an audience. Sure, it’s praise he’s heard from adoring fans and critics more times than he could ever hope to recall, but it’s not something you’re saying just to try and get in his good books. When you offhandedly mention that he looks a little happier in the roles where he’s not the villain, noting that they suit him and that whatever world you’re from he’d probably be a big hit, you swear that he gets a bit smug, apparently pleased by whatever you’d said. You may not know all the ins and outs of this world yet, but Vil’s at least sure you’ve got taste. Which is why he turns a convenient blind eye at the treats you smuggle up to Grim and your room after he’s sure you swore to Ace and Deuce to follow along with their no-sweet regime.

♡ Rook is observant, and it’s hard for people not to feel like he’s prying a bit too much into their personal lives when they happen to gain the huntsman’s attention. Perhaps it’s because you’ve got a relatively blank slate, or that you’re so focused on forging ahead to whatever comes next that you’ll get involved at a moment’s notice. Whatever the quality it has piqued his interest, and from the moment that the camp starts he’s committing every little detail about you to memory. 

♡ You may not see it, but there’s so many details in the actions that you do and your daily routines that tell the story of who you are to whoever is diligent enough to listen. It’s in your mannerisms and the way you engage with everything around you, all easily missed to the untrained eye. It’s beautiful in its own way, and Rook is nothing if not an appreciator of that beauty. 

♡ Your homestead at Ramshackle is but another shining example of who you are as well. Having nothing but the clothes on your back and a basic understanding of how to function when you first arrived, it’s clear that you’ve made a concentrated effort to at least make the place liveable for you and Grim; not just as a shelter, but as a home. Because of course this is the only place you can call home, and Rook is sure to treat it with the respect such an important place deserves.

♡ Epel doesn’t really know what to make of you at first. You’re from a different world entirely, for one thing, and not having any kind of past beyond school makes him feel a bit awkward about interacting with you. According to Vil, Epel’s still rather rough around the edges, and when his emotions get the better of him he’s been known to put his foot in it and say something that comes off blunt and snappy. Plus, surely there was only so much the two of you could talk about that wasn’t VDC or school related, right?

♡ He’s proven wrong when that huge batch of apple juice from his nana back home is delivered to Ramshackle’s doorstep. All it takes is him mentioning to Kalim that his hometown is known for its apples, and before he can even elaborate your voice chimes in with a helpful “Oh,the village of Harvest, right?” that has Epel’s attention snapping over to you so quickly you think you’ve done something wrong.

♡How did you even know that? His hometown’s barely on the map to begin with, so it genuinely makes him freeze when you recognize it so quickly. The question bugs him until he’s able to ask you about it later, where he finds out just how much you’ve thrown yourself into learning about this world you’ve ended up in. You’re excited that someone’s finally asking you about stuff that you do know, and you pretty much end up talking poor Epel’s ear off for the rest of the evening, telling him all kinds of facts you’ve read up on regarding his hometown’s history and culture. Hell, you spout off a few facts that even he didn’t know about, and he doesn’t miss the proud grin on your face once you learn that.

♡Surprisingly, you want to hear more from Epel too. About the place he grew up, the people he grew up with - his family especially. You’ve had some time to process your own grief around your potential family and your life back home, and though there’s still a twinge of jealousy that sparks up on the bad days you don’t want it to hinder the people that you care about right now. And so you sit, and you listen, prodding him for as much information as he’s willing to give. He practically has to send a message to his nana there and then thanking her on your behalf for all the juice when you learn that she was the one kind enough to send them all over. It’s the only way to get you off of his back about it, but there’s no denying that it’s actually kind of nice having someone who’s genuinely curious about his upbringing, instead of snooping or looking down on it.

♡Even after VDC you’re surprised to find that Pomefiore’s promptly nestled itself into your life. With everything that took place before and after the group's performance it only made sense that they’ve bonded to their newest potato, just be prepared for what exactly that entails. Expect plenty of gifts in the form of the latest cosmetic brands and accessories to be delivered to Ramshackle (much to Grim’s disappointment because it’s not food.) You’ve even had yourself called all the way over to Pomefiore’s dorm only to come back with entire outfits just because you let slip once that Crowley’s budget for your dorm doesn’t cover enough to justify buying anything more than your uniform. 

♡ Those aren’t the only gifts you receive too. Often when you’re hanging out with the first year group Epel’s got one thing or another that his family back home has practically strong-armed him into giving to you. He’s talked about you to his folks a few times thanks to the whole apple incident, and Marja herself has made Epel remind you more than a couple times that you’re always welcome at the village of Harvest when the next school breaks come up. Did that embarrass Epel? Yes. Did it make him panic when you immediately teared up because of how touching it was? Also yes. 

♡ Pomefiore’s final gifts are small, but mean just as much. They also confuse the hell out of you because when did they even show up??? They’re specific things - things related to your hobbies like new books, CD’s, Movies of your favorite genre for you to enjoy (in case Crowley ever caves and gets you that TV on sale at Sam’s store that he’s been promising you for weeks now goddammit-). All placed somewhere that you’re sure to find them. These gifts are well thought out and honestly mean a lot once you realize who they’re from. Not to mention that there’s a folder with a beautiful decorated cover amongst these little surprises, a clear label reading ‘Memory book’ in very familiar handwriting. Thank god the mystery is solved once you find out Grim’s being bribed with tuna by a certain bob-cut huntsman to drop all these things off at Ramshackle (Grim was supposed to give them to you in hand, but he always gets too bored to do so before you get back from school.) So long as you come to terms with the fact that you’ve been pseudo-adopted into Pomfiore’s ranks by the end of it, it’s honestly kind of nice.

♡Just maybe don’t tell Vil that you may have accidentally made friends with his biggest rival on the day of the event because you ran into him backstage. Rook is certainly happy about it - Vil not so much.

Ignihyde

♡ Your friendship with the housewarden of Ignihyde can be rather prickly in light of everything that’s happened, especially after the events with S.T.Y.X. Before that your only real contact with the Shroud brothers was through Ortho, during your first run in at the audition waiting room. You didn’t hide your excitement once you learned that Idia had made the vocal synthesizer that Ortho was using for the VDC auditions, marveling about how cool it was and asking question after question about how he did it. Ortho is more than happy to answer each and every question you have and then some - especially once you learned Technomancy was a thing and just about lit up like a lightbulb. In fact Ace and Deuce basically have to strong arm you away from the conversation in the end because you’re gonna end up making them late for the damn audition. 

♡ You at least have the chance to call out to Ortho to tell his brother that he sounds awesome and his stuff is cool before the ballroom door shuts behind you. And that’s exactly what he tells Idia as soon as he’s back from the auditions. Idia thinks that you’re just pulling his leg and don’t actually mean any of the nice things that you say, and it takes Ortho insisting on playing it to him on his memory bank multiple times to prove just how genuinely nice and excited you sounded.

♡ Idia doesn’t really expect to hear anything from you after that, but hoo boy is he mistaken because once you’ve gotten in one of the Shroud boys’ good books the other one (reluctantly) follows. Not that he has much of a choice, because not even a couple of days after the auditions Idia’s getting added to a group chat with him, Ortho and you. It’s supposedly because you’d wanted to ask him a few more questions about his tech, and after Ortho had mentioned his brother probably wouldn’t like the face to face grilling, a group chat with the younger Shroud as the middleman was born. Grim sometimes forces his way into the conversation, but that usually involves him demanding you to write down the texts for him or slapping the nearest meme on your phone into the chat completely out of context.

♡Ortho has a lot of fun chatting with you because he shares your passion for learning things, and the two of you become thick as thieves over it before and after he officially becomes a student. He’s basically got the internet at his fingertips at all times, alongside a variety of other tools that basically make the younger Shroud brother a walking hub of information. You, for one, are absolutely living your best life because whatever odd subject has caught your attention, no matter the question you can always ask Ortho and he is more than happy to provide you whatever fun fact you’re looking for within a matter of moments. You get a bit quiet once he mentions the memories he was given during his creation, but that’s to be expected given the circumstances that you’re working with.

♡ At first, getting Idia to even pop up in the chat is like pulling on a gacha - you’ve got a good 2% chance of him actually interacting, though he does check in a lot more than you’d expect. With time however, and more than a little persistence on your part, you’ll find cracks in Idia’s defenses. He finds it easier to talk to people behind the safety of a screen, and it's not like you’re forcing him to interact with you so that at least gets you some brownie points. Granted, expect him to prod juuuuust a little bit if the topic of your memories come up in chat. He’s sure he hasn’t got enough of a bond rank with you yet

♡Things go up in the air when S.T.Y.X breaks into NRC.

♡ It was one thing having all of these people who you’d come to call friends suddenly stolen away, but losing Grim? The one who’s been your rock since you first showed up who’s been a part of every single memory you’ve made? If Rook wasn’t already planning to sneak out to find them you would have tore through their headquarters with your bare hands to get that damn tuna loving weird rock eating fluff ball back. Once you found out what S.T.Y.X actually had their hands in, especially considering the Lethe River system you were pissed. If you didn’t know for a fact that you were from another world entirely, and that the system operated to a very specific set of procedures for rewriting and erasing set memories, you would have thought that it had something to do with your own memory erasure. If that was the case you probably would have throttled the poor older Shroud; but because you know the truth, and the system itself is down for the next few centuries you settle for being absolutely livid about it. 

♡ It’s a sore spot, hitting a little too close to home knowing that there’s people out there who have had memories taken away from them or altered to protect S.T.Y.X’s existence. It’s nothing like your own situation, but you can’t help feeling angry for them. And on top of that, seeing all of those phantoms and knowing that they could have been your friends if you hadn’t been able to bring them back from their overblots? You may try to think of every memory being worth it, but you learn that some bad memories keep you up at night for days after you’re all finally home.

♡ Your friendship with the brothers is tentatively built back up after this, but it takes a bit of work. Idia’s convinced that you’re never going to want anything to do with either of them again after all that’s happened. So convinced that he nearly has a heart attack when you reach out into the group chat once you’ve had time to process things and recover.

♡ Gonna be honest, the wonderlink he gets for you and Grim becomes a huge olive branch once you’re settled back at Ramshackle. Your determination to make memories alongside not having a clue how the gaming system works leads to you either calling Idia over the phone or actually wrangling him into coming over to play with you. Whether by accident or purpose most of the games you purchased on the system he gave you are multiplayer and you insist that there’s absolutely no way just the two of you can place and that you need a gaming expert. Of course Idia sees through your poorly veiled attempts to get him to socialize, but you must have pulled some cheat code because you somehow manage to get him over to play with you two. Just be ready to have more than a few memories of losing - he’s a gaming pro for a reason, after all.

Diasomnia

♡ You’ve firmly wormed your way into the Diasomnia circle from the moment that you first encountered Malleus, whether you realize it at first or not. 

♡ Mallues may not be the most intimately involved in the school's affairs or gossip, but even he’s heard talk of the prefect from another world with neither magic nor memories to their name. The lack of magical aptitude wasn’t anything to bat an eye at, though it was unfortunate given your current enrollment at one of the top arcane colleges in the world. But to have no recollections of your life prior to enrolling? In a place where no one can recognize you or give you the answers that you’re looking for? Truly, an unfortunate set of circumstances you’ve been dealt.

♡ He did not expect to cross paths with this infamous prefect on Ramshackle’s grounds not long after word of them popped up. The old bones of the place were a comfort to Malleus on many nightly walks; when he finds out that it’s no longer as abandoned as he first thought he’s sour at the knowledge that he’ll have to find another place to pass his time in peace. The last thing that Malleus expects is you being bold enough not only to approach him, but to greet him so casually as you none too subtly try to pry into what he’s doing walking around your dorm grounds. 

♡ Perhaps you’ve lost more than just your memories, as there’s not even a shred of trepidation or cautiousness as you so boldly interact with the fae. Not only that but you listen, looking up at him not with the nervousness or even fear that he’s seen in the faces of most of NRC’s students, but with curiosity. You’re a stranger to this world, so you don’t yet know the name Malleus Draconia, nor the face the name is tied to. For once your lack of knowledge works to someone’s benefit, and an unusual bond is formed.

♡ Your friendship with Malleus is an interesting exchange - you provide him company and idle conversation whenever he spirits away to Ramshackle; and he provides you company in turn, as well as a willing ear for you to confide in. Sure, your friends have told you that you can talk to them about your problems, but for some reason you’re able to open up easily to Mal. Maybe it’s because of just how little you know about him, right down to his very name - he’s just as much of a blank slate to you as yourself. So you find yourself sharing your worries about where you came from, or the life you lived before this, or the general distress of not knowing the first thing to do about getting your memory back. 

♡ Even after all these months it still weighs heavily on you, Malleus can see it in the tired expression that wears on your face when you recall all the things you’ve done to bring back even a shred of your old identity until your head’s pounding and your eyes ache. He hates seeing you troubling yourself over it, and more than once he’s found himself flickering through old books and tomes that haven’t been touched in centuries back home with the small hope to relieve some of that burden from your mind.

♡ On a happier note, Malleus will quite happily fill you in on subjects that peak your interest. He may have lived a fairly isolated life up until his enrollment here, but even what he does know about NRC and the world outside of it he’ll share with you, if only to see the way your expression lights up in wonder hearing everything he has to share.

♡ This dynamic changes very little, aside from the fact that now that you know his true identity these interactions are no longer purely one sided in the sense that you don’t have to wait around for him to just magically appear like you have been for months. Now he’s the one being surprised by your presence when you come knocking on Diasomnia’s doors looking to hang out. Surprising, but it honestly makes the young Draconia’s day having you march through his dorm’s halls wanting to spend time with him, encouraging him to talk about his day and asking how Roaring Drago is doing as you do so. 

♡ It’s an unusual feeling, having someone’s undivided attention simply because they enjoy your company, and that you leave such an impressionable impact on their memory. Your memory is a precious commodity considering your unique circumstances, and Malleus realizes that he wants to be in as many fond memories as you’ll allow him to.

♡ Though he has to admit, Malleus can’t shake the conflict that dwells in his chest whenever the topic of your home world comes up. Perhaps it’s just in your nature to yearn for something you’ve never known, but he wonders if you’re thinking about it because your worried about your ties to this world. He hopes that once you realize the life that you’re building here, and the memories that you’re making with him and your friends will be enough to convince you to stay. But that day is far away, and so he pushes it to the back of his mind in favor of enjoying the time spent with his closest friend, for however long it lasts…

♡Lilia, catches onto the friendship you’ve got with Malleus quickly, because of course there’s no hiding how much happier Malleus has become. You’re an interesting case yourself, being able to tackle most of the problems that Ramshackle has to offer you and come out the other side as unscathed as you can be. That coupled with the increased amount of time you begin spending around Daisomnia and its students is more than enough reason to catch this guy’s attention. He learns about your memory loss early on, especially considering that it’s pretty much the talk of the school once the information drops. He won’t prod you about it like some of the younger students might, however; he’s been on this earth long enough to recognize a sore subject when he sees one. 

♡ And so he sets about learning things about you in the present rather than the past. Your likes, dislikes, favorite foods, how easily shocked you get when he tries one of his infamous surprise appearances. Lilia’s very easygoing so it’s rather easy to get along with him, not to mention being a dad he’s got the comforting parental presence down pat when he wants to use it. He’s an easy person to let your guard down around, and admit things you usually wouldn’t. Maybe that’s why you end up talking to him about the what-if’s of your previous life.

♡ It’s a moment of weakness, you let one of your idle thoughts about your family back home slip, asking aloud if there’s anyone there to actually miss you. Lilia doesn’t miss the somber chuckle as you admit that you’re a little jealous - Sebek has his parents, and Silver has Lilia. You want a family like that. You try to lighten the mood by jokingly asking why someone can’t whisk you away into their family already, thinking about that time Kalim very nearly got you adopted into his family once he learned of your memory loss. You don’t expect an answer, much less for the moment to suddenly be broken as the fae pats your head ruffling your hair. No doubt he’s made your hair a mess by the action, but you’re more focused on the grin Lilia gives you when he mentions always wanting a big family - he’s sure Silver wouldn’t mind having a new sibling!

♡Unrelated but Lilia loves sharing old stories with you. Some of the things he shares you vaguely recall reading about in some history books at the library; some of those books were so old you have to wrack your brain trying to do the mental gymnastics to figure out exactly how old he is. He is thoroughly entertained seeing the mild existential crisis inducing cogs turning in your head as he continues his tales, waiting for you to inevitably jump into the story to prod him for more information. Just wait until Malleus shows you that one textbook that’s got Lilia’s portrait in; Lilia doesn’t hear the end of it when you come flying into his room mid game with the textbook in hand demanding to know how the hell he looks the same in a portrait taken centuries ago and waiting like a stubborn child next to his chair as he finishes the raid he’s working through with Gloomurai.

♡ Maybe if you weren’t so desperate for answers, you would have noticed that his friend’s gamer tag looks kinda familiar…

♡ Offered to cook you your favorite dish once. You thought it was a nice gesture, until Sebek and Silver made a joint effort to wrangle you away from the scene, basically pleading with Lilia to please not step foot into the kitchen. That’s probably one thing you’re better off not learning about…

♡ When Sebek first runs into you at NRC, he almost fools himself into thinking that you’re playing up the amnesia for some unforeseen gain. He’s not the first student to have had their doubts, and honestly you can’t entirely blame him for just how weird ‘complete memory loss aside from remembering basic functions and muscle memory’ sounds even without the whole context of this being a world governed by magic. However, what makes Sebek different is that he approaches the subject about as delicately as a falling brick. You’re only half listening as he’s demanding answers for things you don’t even know yourself, already fed up with the whole rigmarole of people throwing questions about your amnesia at you.

♡There’s only so much you can hear about memories this, hiding that before you snap back, hissing out that you’d give just about anything for it to be a lie rather than spending every night guessing where you’ve come from and who you’ve left behind while he’s got the luxury of knowing the kind of life he’s lived before this damn school. That shuts him up faster than you’ve ever seen, jaw snapping closed so hard you swear you hear his teeth click together as you turn heel and generate as much distance between the two of you as possible. 

♡ He feels guilty afterwards; Sebek may be a bit of a livewire but even he knows when he’s taken things a bit too far, and it’s clear to see his prying has left you feeling more than a little bitter towards him. Thankfully team dad Lilia is right there to offer advice on smoothing things over in a way that doesn’t result in things looping back around to the original argument. It takes a little while to come to terms with the fact that Sebek genuinely didn’t mean any malice in his prodding; with him on a determined path to become a knight worthy to protect Malleus he wants to know that he can trust you before allowing any kind of potential friendship to form. The way that he went about it however was blunt and came off way ruder than intended; that’s something you can both agree on when he bellows out an apology in the middle of the damn hallway when you cross paths the next day.

♡ He comes to respect how diligently you work despite your initial setbacks coming to Twisted Wonderland with such limited knowledge. What he once thought was an attempt to pry into things for malicious gain he finds is actually just a desire to understand the world around you and the people who inhabit it. Sebek has relayed his respect to you before, in his own way, and thankfully you’ve spent enough time around him to know that he genuinely means every word of it. 

♡ Will actively spur on your thirst for knowledge. The first time he lent you a book because he thought the material would give you something to think about, he fully expected it to be weeks before you’d finished. Cut to the next night and you’re unceremoniously dropping that same book onto his bedroom desk, sitting down next to him as you exclaim how cool the book was and your favorite highlights. 

♡ Of course Sebek quizzes you about it, but when it’s clear you’ve actually taken an interest in the book he’s given you expect to be walking home that night with a new pile of them to pour over to your heart's content. He’s got his own passion for books, and the pair of you bond over this shared activity a lot more than people realize. Lilia almost can’t believe his eyes how quickly Sebek’s hot-blooded attitude simmers down into something more tempered whenever you come over to gush about the latest book he’s recommended to you.

♡You made a joke once about being adopted by Sebek’s parents while he was on call back home, if only to get a laugh out of the smoldering glare he shot you from the other side of the couch. That laugh however breaks out into a full on cackle hearing his parents actually agreeing with you as you shuffle across the couch and pluck the phone from Sebek’s hands while he’s frozen in shock. His mom is thrilled; Sebek, decidedly, is not, as a pillow from the couch goes sailing across the room as you flee from the scene, disappearing into Daisomnia’s halls with Sebek’s phone to tell your second adopted family all about how he’s been making them proud at NRC.

♡ Silver doesn’t miss the signs that you’ve essentially been pseudo-adopted by his father and the other Diasomnia members, though he doesn’t know that you haven’t clocked onto it yet. Considering how Malleus considers you a close confidant, Lilia is basically treating you like another one of his children, and Sebek seems to actually enjoy having you around it’s easy to think that you’ve noticed just how much everyone cares for you. And of course you care for them in return; more than once you’ve stopped by during Silver and Sebek’s training with something from the cafeteria, or you’ve brought the oddest little things you’ve found at Sam’s shop to show off how cool they are (all of which he’s pretty sure he’s seen scattered around Malleus’ room whenever you bring a new item to the dorm.)

♡ You’re quickly becoming such an integral part of Diasomnia’s life that it’s getting harder to imagine a time without you here, and these guys have become all you’ve ever known in the same way. So it’s shocking to Silver when one of the other students mentions that you’ve basically been adopted into the dorm - you’re there so much you’re practically family anyway - and he sees your reaction. You freeze, jaw slack as you process what you’ve just heard. You hardly even notice Grim swiping the sandwich Silver brought you for lunch in your shock, instead glancing up at the Diasomnia boy as if to confirm what you just heard

♡ When he gives you a confused look in return and asks why you’re so shocked since they’re right he practically watches you go through several stages of emotions, right before you’re grabbing him by the lapel of his uniform and guide him to follow you as you bolt over to Crowley’s office. The poor headmaster doesn’t hear the end of your demanding for Grim and yourself to be made honorary Diasomnia members after this. If they’re adopting you, then by the seven you’re getting it in writing from the bird man himself.

♡ Silver mentions once that he wouldn’t mind if you really were adopted into the family. It’s right as he’s on the cusp of another one of his naps, leaning up against your shoulder when he lets slip that he’d be proud to have a sibling like you without thinking anything of it - because of course it’s true, it's just a thought he hasn’t voiced out loud before. Cut to Lilia coming in a minute or two later to check in only to find his son conked out on your shoulder while you’re a blubbering mess over the fact that someone genuinely wants you as part of their family. Lilia feels only marginally bad when he reaffirms the sentiment, him casually throwing out that he already sees you as Silver’s little sibling resulting in you crying harder.

[bwabys-scenarios]

🎄Fixer Upper🎄

Pt 29

Perv!Kurapika x Fem!Reader

part 28

part 29.5

A/N: MERRY CHRISTMAS!! There is a lot of smut in this chapter, and the next few chapters will be a flashback to the Chimera Ant Arc!

⚠️warning⚠️: there is a sex scene in this chapter, virginity loss, creampie, oral(reader receiving), fingering, boob sucking

taglist: @fabitheraven @tsukilover11 @ashdownunderscorebeloved @lemonslut @homeinmydreams @superweeniehutjrsblog @bugmomwrites @heartsforseo @lixiawinter @altaircc @itszenava @fiightforlovee @mimi-sanisanidiot @monainanuttshell @wow-im-gay @whorermoviestar @lightshowerrr @mama-m1na @nenggie @wicked-binch @jamayah @themanicwriter01

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The week was taking forever to pass by, Kurapika becoming more antsy by the day. Killua watched as the blonde nearly tripped staring at (Name) as she passed by.

“Jesus Christ man, I know you’re like head over heels in love with her, but can you at least watch where you’re going? You nearly spilt coffee on my Minecraft creeper slippers.”

Alluka giggled, circling the blonde. “You like (Naamee), you like (Naaamee)!”

The blonde turned bright red, trying to quiet the girl as (Name) turned back around. “Hmm? What were you saying Alluka?”

Killua patted Alluka’s shoulder, giving her a look. “Oh… nothing, big sis.”

Incidents like this happened nearly daily. Kurapika couldn’t help swooning every time she walked by, and sighing like a wife whose husband left for war when she left.

“She’s only been gone for 15 minutes, Kurapika.”

The blonde huffed. He had just been peeking out the window and Killua felt the need to tease him. “I just miss her, is that a crime?”

“No, but being a clingy loser is.”

(Name) got back a few minutes later, carrying a few grocery bags. She was immediately greeted by Kurapika, who took the bags and hovered around her like a lovesick puppy. “Did you miss me that much, Pika?”

She gave his cheek a peck as she put away the nutmeg and cookie mix. Kurapika had been by her side at all times for the past few days, wanting to cuddle, kiss, or hold hands as much as possible. It was like he was making up for lost time.

After putting up the groceries, (Name) was pulled towards the couch so he could “discuss their Christmas plans”. In reality, it was an excuse for him to lay his head in her lap while she talked and played with his hair.

“(Name)…”

She combed through his hair with her fingers, humming softly. “Yes, Pika?”

Kurapika glanced at the newly set up Christmas tree, its branches still bare. He stayed quiet for a second before speaking, his voice now softer, almost sounding nostalgic. “The Kurta… we didn’t celebrate Christmas, but… we still had similar traditions during the winter.”

(Name)’s eyes widened, her hands pausing before resuming. Kurapika almost never brought up his clan unless it was in reference to his revenge, so she was a little surprised. “What traditions were they?”

“… we would decorate the trees in our village. Each family had their own tree to grow and take care of throughout the year, and during winter we would decorate it with jewelry and handmade ornaments. When… I discovered the massacre, not only had they killed my family, they burned down our homes and trees. It’s stupid, but… when I searched the rubble of my home after burying the dead, seeing my childhood ornaments burnt to a crisp made me cry. It was something I never thought I would lose, I took the little things for granted.”

(Name) cupped his cheek gently. As he spoke, Kurapika’s eyes began to water, before tears freely fell.

“It’s not stupid, Pika. That was something important to you, a hint of normalcy that you never thought would be ripped away. It’s okay to be upset with it, small things like that made up your life.”

Kurapika leaned into her touch, allowing her to comfort him with her warmth. “Pika… you know, we could make ornaments together… if you wanted.”

He let out a shaky sigh, turning to bury his face into her stomach. “That… would be wonderful, (Name).”

She smiled, leaning down to press a kiss to the side of his head. “We’ll pick up the supplies when we go in our date this Saturday.”

‘Our date…’

He nuzzled against her, his arms wrapping around her waist to gently squeeze the fat of her hips. “Sounds like a plan…”

It felt like being in the Hunter Exam again. He was so soft and sweet with her, wanting to snuggle and cuddle with her every second he could. Although they still struggled with kissing due to their shyness, hugs and cuddles were becoming common place.

Before they knew it, the day of their date had come. The entire day, Kurapika paced around, taking an extra long shower. After he got out, he dressed himself in a pair of sweatpants and a tanktop so he could get some work done. It was only 12 pm, their date was supposed to be at 5 pm.

“Ah, where are my shoes…”

Kurapika looked up from his laptop, raising an eyebrow as he watched (Name) pull on an ugly Christmas sweater over a tanktop. “Our date isn’t until 5 pm, why are you getting ready? Are you going somewhere?”

The blonde had grown even more attached than he had been during the Hunter Exam, wanting to be near her or at least know where she was at all times.

“That’s none of your business.”

Kurapika turned to see Killua wearing a matching Christmas sweater, carrying Cornbread the cat in one arm, and a cat carrier holding Meatloaf in the other. By the looks of his scratched up hand, Kurapika knew Killua probably attempted to carry Meatloaf by hand the first go around.

“Are… are the cats wearing sweaters too?”

“Yeah, and what of it? It’s cold.”

(Name) rolled his eyes at Killua’s sassy remark. “We’re going to take pictures at the mall with the cats.”

Kurapika nodded slowly, starting at Meatloaf as she growled in the carrier. “Uh huh…”

He turned to (Name) looking a little shy. “Can I come?”

“Oh hell no! This is a mother and son trip, no deadbeats allowed!”

“Killua!”

She folded her arms at the boy, frowning. “I know you’ve been excited for this, but there’s no reason he can’t tag along. You should be nice baby, it’s almost Christmas.”

Killua cursed under his breath, mumbling something about Kurapika ruining things before he sighed. “Whatever, but he can’t cling to you the whole time. It’s annoying.”

Kurapika glanced down to his arm wrapped around (Name)’s waist, and reluctantly pulled it away. “… I don’t… I don’t cling to her.”

“Yeah, whatever you say.”

(Name) held onto Kurapika’s hand, smiling softly. “I don’t mind it, Kurapika. I like that you want to be close to me.”

His cheeks erupted into a blush, and he could only nod, lightly squeezing her hand as they walked to the car.

Killua and (Name) sat for pictures, Cornbread in Killua’s lap and Meatloaf in (Name)’s. They both smiled, though Meatloaf spat and hissed at both Killua and the photographer. “Aww, these pictures are going to be so cute!”

Kurapika watched from behind the camera, peeking at the two. (Name) seemed so happy, and Kurapika found the way she held Meatloaf in her arms like a newborn baby quite cute.

“Can I… get in one of these pictures?”

Killua seemed personally offended by Kurapika’s question, scrunching up his face. “Um… are you a mother or a son to anyone here? No? Yeah, get back behind the camera. You might break the lens.”

(Name) gasped, pinching Killua’s cheek. “Killua, that’s way too mean, even for you! Come here Pika, I’ll take a picture with you.”

Killua grumbled, holding his cheek as he walked away with the cats. Kurapika raced towards (Name) quickly sitting next to her and pulling her close for a picture.

He wrapped his arms around her waist, taking the chance to lightly squish her hips before resting his hands on her stomach.

After the photos, the group got them developed and made their way home. “Aww, Killua, Meatloaf was looking at you in this one!”

“I think she wanted to eat me.”

(Name) glanced back at the cat, grimacing as it growled at Kurapika from its carrier. “Well… she’s got her muzzle on. You’re… probably safe.”

To be safe, (Name) carried Meatloaf in, cooing softly as she helped her out of the carrier. The cat purred in her arms, kneading at her Christmas sweater. “There, there, sweetheart. I know, it was a stressful day wasn’t it?”

She placed Meatloaf on the floor, Kurapika stepping out of the cat’s way. Over the past few months, he learned to avoid the cat to keep the peace.

They still had a few hours left until their date, so Kurapika locked himself in his room to get ready.

———————

“Oh… is that what you’re wearing?”

Kurapika frowned as Leorio inspected his clothes with a raised eyebrow. “I want to look nice, this is our first real date.”

“Yeah, but you’re going Christmas shopping, not ballroom dancing.”

The blonde had put on the tailored suit he got when shopping with Leorio and (Name) last week. “Haha, real funny. She said I looked handsome in this.”

“Kurapika, she thinks you look handsome in anything. I saw her blush when you came home covered in blood.”

A blush spread over Kurapika’s cheeks. “Really? I… think she looks gorgeous in anything. Or nothing.”

“Dude. Killua is right there.”

Killua stood by the door, holding his overnight bag with a horrified look on his face. He wordlessly backed away and walked back towards his room. They could hear Alluka questioning him about his disturbed expression.

“Ahh… I didn’t see him there.”

“Clearly.”

The blonde combed his hair, looking at himself in the mirror. Since he’d been living with (Name), the dark circles under his eyes had grown smaller, and his hair was much softer and healthier. Although it was still long, she’s given him a trim last month to get rid of any split ends.

Kurapika was still insecure, though. He was awfully pale, and still thinner than he was “supposed” to be. His old suit hadn’t only been torn and bloody, it had also been slightly baggy on him. He was still trying to take better care of himself, and (Name) sure was helping by making sure he ate three scare meals a day, along with snacks. He had gained a few pounds, finally able to wear some of his clothes without them sagging as badly.

He didn’t think he looked very handsome, but the memory of (Name)’s words made his face flush again. Maybe it was okay if he struggled to see his own self worth. He had her. That was enough, right?

The blonde stepped out of his room, standing in the living room. “(Name), I’m ready.”

“Coming!”

He heard the jingling of her keychains as she came running downstairs, the smell of her perfume the second thing he noticed.

The third thing he noticed was that she was wearing the cardigan she wore during the Hunter Exam and a pair of jeans.

(Name) was smiling as she reached the final step, although she looked a little confused at his formal getup. “Pika, sweetheart, you do know we’re going shopping, right? Wouldn’t you rather be comfortable?”

He blushed, looking down at himself. Kurapika could imagine getting sweaty, or having sore feet after wearing his nice shoes all day. “Yeah, you’re right (Name)…”

Kurapika sulked back to his bedroom, (Name) following behind. He only noticed when he turned to close the door, seeing her standing right in front of him. “(N-Name)? What-“

She shushed him, sitting him on the bed. “I’ll find you something to wear, okay? Just sit there looking pretty for me.”

His face turned bright red as she rummage through his closet, the blonde unable to speak. His cock grew hard at her compliments, and he cursed his body for being so sensitive when it came to her.

“Hmm…”

She took out a light, peach colored sweater and some gray jeans. “This with your coat should be good. Come here…”

She stood in front of him, cupping his cheeks teasingly before moving her hands down to his tie, undoing it. Kurapika felt his entire body heat up, the bulge in his pants growing. “W-what are you doing!?”

“I’m helping you get ready for our date, Pika. I have to make sure you’re nice and comfortable, don’t I?”

As she spoke, she began unbuttoning his shirt, her hands slipping beneath the white fabric to caress his chest. “Oh, angel…”

His voice was soft and affectionate, with a tinge of lust underlying his words. Kurapika’s hands met hers, holding them gently. “If I let you do that, we may not make it to our date. I won’t be able to control myself.”

With a kiss to her forehead, Kurapika sent her away. “Wait for me outside, I’ll be out in a few minutes.”

(Name) waited for him in the van, her cheeks warm and a fond smile on her face. ‘Maybe… he really does like me.’

————————

The two arrived at the mall right on time. Kurapika ran to open her door for her, his cheeks a soft pink as he helped her out. “Oh, what a gentleman. Thank you, Pika.”

He looked away, keeping a soft grip on her hand. “… you’re welcome, (Name).”

The mall was crowded more than usual, but not as bad as when they went on their midnight trip last week. Even so, Kurapika kept a protective arm around her waist as they walked through the mall.

“So, where should we start first?”

(Name) hummed, pulling out her shopping list. “Well, why don’t we start with getting the supplies to make ornaments?”

Kurapika paused, a warm and fuzzy feeling taking over his body. “That’s… a great place to start.”

Kurapika guided her through the crowds of people to where they needed to go. (Name) looked around at the rows of Christmas decorations and ornaments, finally spotting some plain white and clear ornaments. “Ooo, we can paint these and place glitter or little objects in the clear ones!”

She held them up, giggling. Kurapika nodded, picking up a pack of clay and paint. “I’d like to hand make some as well… my people were artisanal, when we went into the outside world, we sold textiles and pottery, along with paintings.”

(Name) nodded, placing everything in the basket. “Okay, now just to get some glitter and other little things…”

Kurapika couldn’t help but feel excited about what the future held. He couldn’t wait to make ornaments again and have memories that he could build up again.

“Mmm… next is a big gift for Alluka…”

The spent a few hours shopping before they settled down to eat some cheap fast food at the food court. As Kurapika bit into his burger, he realized just how different the date Illumi and (Name) had to theirs.

Illumi took her to a fancy restaurant where they ate expensive food and wore nice clothes, while Kurapika and (Name) were dressed in jeans and sweaters as they wolfed down burgers and French Fries.

For a moment he almost felt a bit embarrassed. Maybe Illumi was better than him?

Then he saw (Name) smile and laugh, her eyes twinkling. She didn’t look at Illumi like that once during their date, and upon further reflection, Kurapika realized she looked pretty uncomfortable the entire time.

Now, with Kurapika, she smiled brightly and giggled, her chubby cheeks warm. She was happy to spend time with him, no matter where it was or what they were doing.

“You’re really cute, (Name). I don’t think I could ever get tired of hearing your laugh.”

She blushed, giving him that pretty smile of hers. “I could say the same about you, Pika. Hearing you laugh makes me feel so happy.”

He was caught off guard with how sincerely she stated that, causing his cheeks to redden. “O-oh… I… want you to be happy all the time, I guess I’ll try to laugh more often.”

The two looked at each other for a moment before they both bursted out in laughter, having to bend over and hold their stomachs. “P-Pika please, my tummy hurts, haha!”

“Sorry, sorry.”

She wiped a tear from her eye, leaning back in her chair. Kurapika thought she looked gorgeous like this, her face warm from laughter and her eyes bright. If he was being honest, he would find her beautiful in any circumstance, she was his angel, the one he loved more than anything.

“Mmm… I think we got everything on the list. How about we grab some hot chocolate and cookies then head home?”

“That sounds good to me, angel.”

As they picked up their hot chocolate and cookies, Kurapika quirked an eyebrow at (Name), peeling into the bag. “You only got enough for the two of us. You usually get some for Killua and Alluka too.”

(Name) smiled, grabbing the bag before holding onto his hand with her free one, giving it a gentle squeeze. “They went to stay with Leorio for the night. It’s just going to be us at the house.”

A chill went down his spine, and he was sure she noticed the he gulped as his cheek turned red again. “Is that so?”

She nodded, tugging him towards the mom van. “Mhm, just us. We can watch some Christmas movies and snuggle on the couch with no interruptions! Killua usually would come sit between us like some kind of chaperone!”

She said this with a playful huff. “It’s weird, he acts like you’re going to pounce on me or something.”

‘Ah, he’s not wrong to think that, honestly…’ Kurapika thought, looking away. The bulge in his pants had returned, and he was just glad to be wearing an oversized sweater.

‘The thing I said during the fall get together probably didn’t help anything…’

They got into the mom van and drove home, sipping on their hot chocolate and snacking on cookies.

———————

Kurapika carried in most of (Name)’s shopping bags, insisting that she just get the Christmas movie started while he placed them in her closet upstairs. When he came back downstairs, she was heading up. “I’m going to change into my pajamas! The movie is already starting, so you can get changed and we can meet back up!”

The blonde nodded, watching her hips as she ran up the stairs, tripping on the same step she always did. He had to bite his lip to prevent himself from laughing.

After getting into comfortable pajamas, the two sat on the couch together, a few feet apart. They were both nervous, the energy a bit different than it had been the other times they’d been together.

After about 10 minutes into the movie, (Name) scooted closer, leaning her head on his shoulder. Kurapika felt his heart pounding. She smelt so good, like hot chocolate and vanilla, along with her usual fruity perfume. It made him feel soft, and before he realized it, he had wrapped an arm around her to bring her closer.

“Mmm…”

He nearly whimpered when he felt her bury her face into his shoulder, her soft warm breath tickling his neck. “Pika…”

She planted a little kiss on his shoulder, her chubby cheek resting against him. “Can I… sit in your lap?”

Kurapika’s brain short circuited upon hearing her request, his face heating up to the point his entire face was now red. (Name) took his silence as him being uncomfortable with the question, and immediately pulled back. “N-never mind, I didn’t men’s t-“

She yelped when the blonde pulled her into his lap, wrapping his arms around her plush frame. He rested his flustered face on her shoulder, trying to calm his breathing. “Please… just let me hold you. Stay…”

(Name) relaxed, returning the embrace. Her plump thighs were on either sides of his, her knees resting on the couch. He nearly shivered when she finally sat down completely, his hands falling to her hips to keep her in place.

It took Kurapika a moment to calm himself down, and when he did he looked up to see her gazing at him in a way that made his heart race. It was pure adoration and love, something he hadn’t experienced since he was a child. “(Name)…”

He cupped her cheek, his other hand lightly squeezing her hip. “You’re… everything to me.”

Her breath hitched, and they began leaning into each other. “Pika…”

When their lips met, he couldn’t help put pull her flush against him, feeling her breasts squish against his chest. “Mmm…”

His hands began to wander to her ass. Kurapika gave it a quick squeeze, making (Name) yelp. He took this as a chance to slip his tongue into her mouth, dancing with hers. She tasted sweet, like the hot chocolate and cookies they had earlier.

She could feel his bulge pressing into her, and she even lightly rocked her hips against him, causing him to moan into the kiss. His hands shot to her hips, helping to guide her over his bulge.

When they pulled away to breathe, his hands moved to her shirt, yanking it off. He nearly choked when he realized she wasn’t wearing a bra, her soft breasts now on full display for him. “(Name)…”

He glanced up at her, the blondes eyes widening in surprise when she guided his hands to her chest, placing them over her ample breasts. “Please.”

Kurapika took in a shaky breath as he gave her breasts a light squeeze, his hands trembling lightly in excitement. They were softer than he could have ever imagined, and fit in his hands perfectly, almost like she was made just for him.

His thumbs brushed over his nipples, the blonde neatly shuddering when he felt them harden under his gentle touch. The little whimper that left her lips was enough to encourage the shy Kurta to continue.

He wanted to kiss every inch of her body, so before he knew it he was leaning forward to press his lips into her breast, his tongue lapping at her nipple. “M-Mmph, Pika!”

Her face was hot, and she could feel the wetness pooling between her thighs as he looked up at her with those scarlet eyes, his mouth latching around her nipple. His tongue danced around her sensitive nipple, his other hand lightly pinching and tweaking the other. “Gorgeous… you’re beautiful…”

After releasing her breast with a soft “pop” from his mouth, he moved to sucking on her neck, giving her little bites and licks. By the time he was done, (Name) was a panting mess and her neck was covered in love bites and hickeys. Kurapika was also feeling the heat, and he was sure she could feel his bulge pressing into her clothed pussy.

“I want you, (Name)…”

He stared up at her, his eyes a brilliant shade of scarlet, the unique shade only she got to see. No one else got to see Kurapika’s eyes like that, they only turned that specific shade when he was looking at the one he loved.

“I… I want you too, Pika… I need you.”

He had been waiting for this moment for so long, and now that he finally had her in his arms, the blonde almost get overwhelmed.

Kurapika had hurt her, more than once, and he never would have thought he would have a second chance at this thing called love, especially not with her. He didn’t deserve her, not one bit, but he was determined to have her. Maybe he was being selfish by loving her, but in that moment he didn’t care. Her body was pressed against his, and he wanted her more than anything.

He scooped her up in her arms, smiling a little when her thighs wrapped around his waist. “My room or yours?”

She buried her face into the crook of his neck, humming softly. “Doesn’t matter…”

Kurapika squeezed her thighs when she began nipping at his neck, her soft lips brushing against his jaw as he walked upstairs. “A-angel, please, ah!”

He bit his lip when she nibbled on his ear. The blonde hurried up the stairs, his body trembling from her kisses and nibbles.

He figured her room would be more familiar and therefore more comfortable for her, so he passed his room and made his way to hers,

The door was kicked open, and the two fell onto the bed, their lips meeting again in a flurry of kisses. He couldn’t keep his tongue out of her mouth, not when she tasted so sweet and felt so good.

He blushed when he felt her tugging at his shirt. Kurapika knew sex meant getting naked, but he couldn’t help but hesitate. He wasn’t exactly the most confident in his appearance, but with one look at (Name)’s lust filled eyes he was tearing off his shirt in a hurry, quickly moving to unbutton his pants.

She pulled him back in for another kiss, pulling his hips into hers, letting his clothed cock run against her clothed pussy. “F-fuck (Name)…”

He groaned, holding onto her hips as he moved against her. “Need these off, now…”

He yanked down her pants with shaky hands, making her whine softly when her soaked panties were exposed to him. She hid her face away in embarrassment and tried to close her legs, but he pried her thighs open.

Kurapika couldn’t speak, his heart running a millions miles a minute. He was so close to her wet heat that he could smell her arousal. His actions had caused this. His.

It was enough to make his cock twitch in excitement at what was to come. “Need it…”

His voice was hoarse, like a man that had been wandering through the desert for years on end. “Pika…”

She blushed as his thumbs hooked under her panties, giving him a little nod when he looked up at her. With her approval, he pulled them down, his breath hitching at the sight before him.

She was soaking wet, her pussy drooling, all because of him. He leans down, his face hovering above her cunt as she peeked at him through her hands. Feeling a surge of confidence, he met her eye as he leaned forward to press a soft kiss into her pussy, his tongue flicking out to lick her clit.

Her eyelashes fluttered as her hips rose to meet his lips, a whine leaving her lips. She was shy and needy, all in one, and Kurapika wasn’t the type to tease, especially when he wanted this just as much as she did.

Without further ado, he buried his face into her cunt, his mind going fuzzy when he got a good taste of her. “Mmm, mm…”

He was losing himself, letting out a moan when he felt her thighs squish his face.

“Ahh!”

Her hands shot out to tangle themselves in his hair, causing him took look up at her with hazy, pussy drunk eyes. Kurapika kept his tongue on her clit, remembering how she masturbated when he watched her.

She let out a whiny moan when he inserted a finger into her. The blonde’s eyes widened at just how tight she was. He’d done his research and knew that virgins were tight, but there was only so much a book could prepare him for. It didn’t prepare him for the way she bucked her hips into his face, of the way his body reacted to the taste of her pussy and the sound of her mewling moans.

“Pika, I’m mmph- close!”

He glanced back up at her, seeing just how hot her face was. She was looking down at him with half lidded eyes, her lips parted to pant in pleasure.

He wasn’t experienced at eating pussy, but (Name) was already so close to cumming. It made his chest swell with pride, and he added another finger to get her even closer to the edge, curling them just like Leorio said to.

This made her call out his name, her walls tightening around his fingers. “P-Pika, cumming!”

He could feel precum oozing from his tip as he lapped up her cum. In the future, he would take a lot more time between her legs, but right now, he needed her desperately.

Kurapika wiped his mouth before moving up her body to get a good look at her post-orgasm face. It was quite the sight to behold, and he was amazed that he was able to cause it.

“You taste amazing…”

She blushed, burying her face in his shoulder. He could tell she was a bit nervous at what was to come by the way her thighs tremble around his hips. “(Name)…”

He cupped her cheek, brushing away a tear that fell down her cheek. Kurapika felt his heart drop. Had he been too pushy? Was she crying because of him? Seeing her cry made his protective instincts flare up, and he was quick to attempt to soothe her.

“We don’t have to keep going if you’re scared, (Name). I’ll stop the second you tell me to, angel.”

She shook her head, her hands going to his boxers to lightly tug at them. “N-no, I want you… I’m just nervous.”

He laughed, resting his forehead against hers. “Me too.”

They shared a smile before Kurapika kissed her again. It was a lot gentler this time, with light caresses and touches as their lips locked. He wanted her to feel safe and loved. Kurapika loved her more than anything after all, and he wanted their first time together to be special. He couldn’t say he loved her through words yet, but maybe he could say it through his actions.

“You’re gorgeous…” he said softly, his hands running over the sides of her body, past her chubby tummy and plump hips, resting on her plush thighs. Her soft flesh turned him on more than he cared to admit.

With a few more tugs, his underwear was off, and (Name) caught a glimpse of his cock for the first time. She had jerked him off before, but hadn’t actually see it since his dick since it was in his underwear, but now it was on full display for her.

He seemed nervous when she stared, only relaxing when she reached out to touch it. His breath hitched, a groan leaving his lips as she stroked him lightly. “Pretty…”

His cheeks flushed at the compliment, and he quickly but gently pushed her hand away. “I-If you keep that I’m going to cum…”

She giggled, pulling him forward his tip brushed against her folds. “Then let’s get started, Pika. Just… be gentle, please…”

He nodded quickly, his fingers interlocking with hers as he looked down. Kurapika bit his lip as his cock prodded at her pussy, the feeling of her juices coating his tip enough to make him cum. It was all he could do to hold back, the blonde glancing up at her again for permission as he positioned his cock at her entrance.

“Are you ready, (Name)?”

She nodded, kissing his cheek. “I am… I’ve wanted this for so long…”

Kurapika stared down at her with those scarlet eyes of his, his cheeks a dark red. “I need you… I’ve needed you my whole life.”

He touched her forehead to his as his cock sunk into her inch by inch. He didn’t mind that she was gripping his hand too hard or that she was whining softly. “I know, angel… shh…”

Whne tears of pain beaded in her eyes, he kissed them away, pushing his own pleasure away to tend to her. Even though she was squeezing his cock so deliciously, he pushed in slowly. He wanted to pound into her, to watch her breasts bounce as he fucked into her, but he wouldn’t. Not tonight.

When he bottomed out, he kept a hand on her tummy, pressing kisses into her neck and cheeks. “F-fuck… doing so good, angel.”

His inexperience was starting to show with the way his chest rose and fell, a soft panting leaving his lips. “M-Mmph, (Name)…”

It was arousing to see how his body was reacting to hers, the way she watched his eyes get hazy and his cheeks go red. Those scarlet eyes were proof of how strongly he was feeling, and she wanted to believe it wasn’t just lust. “Pika…”

The both leaned into each other, their noses brushing against each others tenderly. “I love you…”

This was said tenderly, her voice soft as she looked up at him. He felt his eyes widen and she could feel his cock twitch inside of her. She said she loved him before, and even though he’d heard her say it in a romantic way before, this felt different. She loved him, in the way lovers do. Sexually, romantically, all of it, she wanted him in every way she could have him. It made him want to cry, he had never been loved in this way before.

To be desired and needed in such a way was something Kurapika never though he would experience, and the blonde choked up, tears falling down his cheeks. “(Name)… oh angel…”

Kurapika peppered kisses along her neck and jaw, his fingers sinking into the fat of her thighs. “Pretty… so pretty…”

She whimpered, pulling his attention back to her face. With a light bucking of her hips, she signaled exactly what she wanted.

He took a deep before lightly pulling out before pushing back in, the mewl that left her lips making his hips stutter. Kurapika wanted to hear that pretty sound over and over, so he began thrusting in and out, keeping his hand over her tummy.

That thought he’d been trying to push away came back to his mind as her pussy clenched around him. The image of her with a little baby bump, smiling and laughing as held each other close. It was enough to make precum leak into her from his needy cock.

‘W-wanna… wanna…’

He moved faster, holding her legs over his shoulders as his instinct took over. Kurapika watched as his cock sunk into her, biting his lip.

‘Wanna get her pregnant…’

“Pika.. f-fuck, gonna-!”

He shuddered, feeling her walls flutter around him. “M-me too, angel… let’s cum together…”

Kurapika didn’t want it to end so soon, but he knew they wouldn’t last long with them both being inexperienced virgins, so he let go, the last thought he had before cumming being the desire to impregnate her.

His eyes squeezed shut and he groaned, pounding into her pussy as they came together. She whimpered at the filling of his cum filling her up, painting her walls white. Even after he finished cumming, it took him a moment to stop. Thrusting in and out of her felt so fucking good, he never wanted to stop, but he knew he had to. One look at her exhausted face was enough to calm his racing heart.

The blonde gave her a tired smile, leaning down to kiss all over her face before he pulled out. He wanted to stay inside of her, his instincts telling him to plug her up so his seed could stay inside of her, but his need for comfort and snuggles outweighed that.

He laid on his side and pulled her to his chest, his body feeling hot and tired, but good at the same time. The room smelled of sex and (Name)’s signature perfume, making him relax.

As his mind cleared of his post-orgasm haze, his mind drifted back to the thoughts of getting her pregnant. He came inside her, that meant it was a possibility, wasn’t it? The more he thought of it, the more his heartbeat picked up. He couldn’t think of anyone better to rebuild the Kurta clan with.

His thoughts were interrupted when he felt her tremble in his arms, the blonde picking up the unease and fear in her aura.

When he felt her chest begin to shake with sobs, he pulled her closer, his hands shaking as he cupped her cheeks. “Angel, what’s wrong? Was I too rough? Are you hurt?”

A chill ran down his back when she clung to him, her face burying itself in his chest. This wasn’t an embrace, this was a desperate attempt to keep him close to her. “Please… please don’t leave me… I’ll do anything you want, just don’t leave me again…”

It only took him a moment to realize why she was so upset, and his blood ran cold to think this was all his fault. He had traumatized her to the point she was terrified that once he had his way with her, he’d abandoned her, like she was nothing.

Had he really been so cruel that she believed he would use her body then abandon her? Kurapika held onto her so tightly it was almost painful.

“I’m sorry, I’m so sorry…”

Tears welled up in his eyes. He’d done this, he made the love of his life tremble in fear at the thought of him leaving her again.

All he could do was whisper apologies into her ear as he rocked her, trying his best to soothe and comfort (Name). “I can’t… I can’t live without you, Pika… promise me… promise me you’ll never leave me again…”

She finally looked up at him, her eyes a bit puffy from crying. He paused, his hand reaching up to wipe away her tears.

Was he really okay with staying with her? He didn’t want to become soft, to lose his anger and hatred, and if he stayed with her that might happen.

Kurapika brought her in closer to pepper her face in kisses, unable to stop as tears fell down his own cheeks. He loved her, but his mission would always come first.

“… I promise.”

She finally relaxed, laying her head on his chest. “Mmm… I’m so happy, Pika… I want…”

Her eyelids began to droop, her hands playing with his hair. “I want to stay… with you forever…”

As she fell asleep in his arms, Kurapika hoped that he would be able to keep that promise. A sinking feeling in his chest told him that if he didn’t, there would be no second chances, just heartache.

———————

(Name) woke up early the next morning, giggling to herself when Kurapika grumbled at her attempts to move. “Stay…”

His face was buried in her neck, his hand reaching around her to trail down her tummy to her pussy. She squirmed a little, feeling his cock slip between her thighs. “Pika, what do you mmph~! Think you’re doing?”

Kurapika kissed along her neck, gently sucking on her most sensitive spots. “It’s warm…”

She let out a shaky breath when he pushed into her wet cunt, feeling his fingers rub at her clit as he thrusted in and out lazily, his hot breath on her neck. “So good… you feel so good…”

His free hand groped at her chest, as if he just couldn’t touch her enough. Kurapika wanted his hands all over her, to touch and kiss every inch of her body. She whimpered, lightly watching her back, turning her head to capture his lips in a sloppy kiss.

It didn’t take long for them to cum, the blonde groaning in her mouth as she filled him up. “That’s my angel… such a good girl…”

He hummed in contentment, nuzzling his face into her neck before pulling her closer. “All mine…”

She squirmed a little, giving his cheek a quick peck before she wiggled away. He began to whine again, but she stopped him with a gentle boop to his nose. “Killua, Alluka, and Leorio will be here within an hour. Leorio’s staying over to decorate ornaments for us, so we both have to be showered and dressed before they get here.”

Kurapika pouted at her, his face falling onto her lap. “Just five more minutes… it feels nice to be snugged up with you…”

She smiled softly, gently brushing his hair out of his face. “I’d like that too, Pika, but not right now. How about…”

She hummed, leaning down to kiss his forehead. “How about we snuggle up and watch Christmas movies with everyone later? How does that sound?”

Although he would prefer to snuggle with her alone, he wouldn’t turn her affections down. “I’m okay with that…”

The two separated, much to Kurapika’s annoyance. All he wanted to do was be stuck to her side like glue, but she was busy. He felt a little bad and a bit hypocritical due to calling her a stalker in York New all those years ago. Now he was following her around like a lovesick puppy… he was whipped.

After they both showered and dressed, Kurapika helped (Name) set out the Christmas ornament decorating station. Kurapika even had his own space for molding clay, along with tools and paint. He seemed about ready to dig in, but refrained from doing so until the others got there.

It was nearly noon by the time the others got there. Leorio came holding two boxes of pizza, smiling. “Hey sunshine, I brought lunch.”

“Oh, thank you Leorio!”

She wrapped her arms around him and gave him a peck on his cheek, causing the blonde to huff in annoyance. Kurapika didn’t like how affectionate she was with other men, despite the fact he hadn’t even asked her to be his girlfriend yet. He seemed to believe she already belonged to him.

Killua looked at Kurapika, his eyes narrowing. He didn’t like the satisfied, love-dovey look on Kurapika’s face one bit. It made him… suspicious. Especially after Kurapika’s words during the fall get together…

As the group gathered around the table to start eating, Killua pulled Kurapika aside. “Kurapika.”

Kurapika blinked. It wasn’t often Killua used his actual name, so he looked at him. “… yes, Killua?”

“… don’t get her pregnant.”

And with that, Killua walked away to eat with the others, leaving Kurapika a blushing, stuttering mess.

———————

“If you use this tool, you can create a nice texture…”

“Ooh, Pika that’s so neat!”

Kurapika had (Name) perched in his lap, his hands on hers as he helped her mold the clay into little Christmas themed shapes, like gingerbread cookies and trees. The entire group was having so much fun, with Alluka and Nanika switching out to paint their own little glass ornaments.

“You’re a natural, (Name). My father would have loved to have your help with his work.”

(Name) felt her face warm up, melting at the heartfelt compliment. Kurapika mentioned his family less than he mentioned his clan, so it was a compliment of the highest honor.

“Oh, that sounds like a lot of fun! You said your mom taught you how to sew, right? I bet they would have kept me busy!”

Kurapika laughed at that, resting his chin on her shoulder. “Yeah, I bet they would have loved you.”

He gave her shoulder a kiss before moving the clay over to a baking sheet. “Alright, angel. Let’s get these to the oven. After, we can paint them together.”

She stood up then helped him stand, giggling when he leaned against her. “You may have to carry me (Name), I think my legs fell asleep…” he purred, his cheek nuzzling against hers.

“Oh really? Maybe you won’t be able to come see the Christmas light with us then~”

Kurapika grumbled, standing up on his own. “You’re no fun, (Name).”

She laughed, bumping her hip against his. “Mmm, maybe, but I know my stuff. Come on…”

After decorating ornaments, they decorated the tree with them. Leorio was kind enough to place the star at the top, the group looking on in wonder as they saw the fully decorated tree.

“It’s really nice…” Kurapika said, pulling (Name) close to him. He had a soft, nostalgic smile on his face, tears pooling at the corners of his eyes.

“It is, I’m glad you got to do this with us, Kurapika.”

The two shared a kiss, causing Killua to gag and Alluka to “ooo”. Leorio laughed and rolled his eyes. “Okay lovebirds, we should go see the lights soon, it’s dark out.”

“Already?”

“Yeah, already.”

The group separated, getting dressed for the occasion. Kurapika sighed dreamily as (Name) walked down in a simple Christmas sweater and jeans. Honestly she could walk down in a potato sack and he’d still get flustered, she looked good in pretty much anything she wore.

“Oh wow, you look nice Pika!”

She looked over his nice red turtleneck and black slacks, nodding in approval. “You look cute yourself, (Name).”

She beamed at him, grabbing the arm he offered with a laugh. “Aren’t you a charmer? Let’s get the cat warmed up, it’s freezing out there!”

The group rode in the car to see the Christmas lights, munching on cookies and hot chocolate (Name) prepared before they left. “These are good, mama!”

Nanika was present at the moment, munching on a cookie. Killua seemed to be pouting over this. “Why does Alluka get more cookies? It’s not fair!”

“Well, Alluka has Nanika with her, it’s only fair they both get the same as everyone else!”

“Mom, they share the same vessel! It’s-“

Nanika buried her face in (Name)’s chest, whining. “Big brother is being mean to me…”

Killua started stuttering out an apology as Nanika and (Name) giggled. Kurapika glanced at them through the rearview mirror, his cheeks a soft pink.

“Take the next left, and it should be right there.”

Leorio was looking at his phone, calling out directions to Kurapika. The tall man had some spiked hot chocolate before he left and (Name) didn’t like driving long distances, so that left Kurapika behind the wheel.

He put the car into park outside of the the place, glancing around at the lights with a wonderstruck face. Kurapika had heard about Christmas lights before, and he even helped Leorio put some up at (Name)’s house a week ago, but he’d never seen anything like this.

Pairo had always wanted to see the big parks full of lights after he read about it in a book.

“Even with my failing vision, I’d still be able to see the lights! We should go see them someday, Kurapika!”

“Yeah, I promise I’ll take you one day!”

“Will you hold my hand so I don’t trip?”

“Haha, I’m sure I will have found you a doctor to help your condition by then, but I’ll still hold you hand. You’re a bit clumsy regardless.”

“Hehe, I guess I am!”

Kurapika stayed frozen near the gate, a hand over his heart as memories of old broken promises plagued his mind.

He was shaken from his thoughts by a hand taking his own, giving him a light squeeze. “Are you alright, Pika?”

Kurapika smiled, letting the tears fall down his cheeks. “Yeah… yeah I’m fine. I just… remembered that I had promised Pairo I’d take him to see the Christmas lights one day. I… never got to.”

(Name) pulled him a little closer, leaning her head against his shoulder. “… you carry him in your heart, Kurapika. He’s here with us, even if he isn’t physically. Can’t you feel it?”

The blonde paused, his eyes going wide. There was a certain feeling in the air, nostalgic and familiar. “I do… I do feel it.”

She smiled, laughing when he hugged her a little tighter. “I think… he’s happy I have you now.”

The others watched with smiles on their faces, even Killua. As they walked into the park, Kurapika felt truly at peace for the first time since he lost his clan. It felt like his friend was right next to him, experiencing each new sight Kurapika did. If there was an afterlife like Kurapika believed, he hopes Pairo could see all the sweet parts of life through his eyes.

Alluka and Killua played in the snow as Kurapika and (Name) gazed at the lights in wonder. “Oh wow, these ones are linked to a radio station! They blink in time with the music!”

They walked through a tunnel of lights, pausing to look at each other. To Kurapika, (Name)’s figure lit up by the soft lights above made her look beautiful. Her hair, her skin, her eyes, each part of her had his heart thumping away madly.

He leaned in for a kiss, cupping her cheeks, but stoped short when her phone buzzed in her pocket. The both seemed irritated by the interruption, but Kurapika gave her a patient smile. “Go ahead, I’ll still be here.”

(Name) giggles, walking away to take the call. He waited, watching as her face fell.

She walked back a moment later, looking simultaneously pissed and worried. “Is something wrong, angel?”

The woman groaned, leaning against him. “My boss called, he said there’s a natural disaster that needs clean up and rescue efforts, and he needs me to into work. My nen is very useful when it comes to both healing others and getting rid of debris.”

Kurapika pulled her in closer, his face scrunching up. “… how long will you be gone?”

“About a week, which means I’ll be home a few days before Christmas Eve. Don’t get me wrong, I don’t mind helping others, but it sucks going into work during the Christmas season… but…”

She texted Leorio, who said he would call her a taxi. “I have to remember that these people are experiencing these natural disasters during the holidays. My family is happy and safer, theirs aren’t.”

Kurapika was always surprised by her unending compassion and care for complete strangers. He nodded, cupping her cheek tenderly. “Do you want me to come with you? I don’t want you to go alone a-“

“No, I need someone that can stay at the house. Leorio has classes so he can’t always be around to help, you’ll need to take care of the kids while I’m gone.”

Kurapika frowned at that, but he couldn’t help feeling a small iota of pride at her trust in him. Killua was her baby, something she made clear, so to put him in Kurapika’s care meant she thought he was worthy enough.

“I won’t even have time to pack, I’ll just have to wear my work uniform and buy clothes there…”

She began walking towards the gate, texting numerous people on her phone as Kurapika followed. “You’re leaving now? I was hoping we’d have more time together…”

The knowledge that she’d be leaving for an entire week was starting to sink in, making the blonde feel extra clingy and needy. He held onto her hand, bringing it to her lips to kiss it. “I’ll miss you…”

She turned back to smile, embracing him as tight as she could manage. “I’ll miss you too, Pika. I love you…”

She gave his lips a soft peck, waiting a moment before sighing softly. “… I’ll see you next week then, take care.”

His face dropped as she turned, a soft look of sadness taking just his features. He could tell she was a little upset he hadn’t said he loved her back. Kurapika couldn’t blame her, not one bit. He wanted to say it, he wanted to scream it from the rooftops that she was only one for him, but he just couldn’t.

It wasn’t good, and would hurt them both later on if he couldn’t man up and say it.

The blonde sighed, watching her get in the taxi before he turned to join the others, the spark of excitement over the Christmas lights gone.

At the time, he didn’t realize that she was that spark, that person that allowed him to feel childlike wonder again.

And he might end up taking that effect she had on him for granted.

———————

The week (Name) was gone was hell for Kurapika. The kids misbehaved, the cats kept getting into trouble, and Leorio was too busy with college to help him most of the time.

But most of all, the thing that hurt Kurapika the most was the debilitating loneliness he felt with (Name)’s absence. He had gotten so used to her presence, that he could barely function when she wasn’t around. He stumbled through his routine, waking up early to feed the kids, working to find clues about the scarlet eyes or phantom troupe on his laptop, making lunch, going back to work, making dinner, then passing out after.

“You’re like a soggy cat!” Alluka said, watching as Kurapika slumped on the couch, his laptop on the coffee table. “You miss (Name) so much that you haven’t smiled or laughed once since she’s been gone! Not even at my puppet show.”

“Your puppet show was about the assassination of Abraham Lincoln.”

“I thought it was hilarious!” Killua chimed in, jumping over the couch to sit down next to Kurapika. “But she’s right, it hasn’t even been fun to tease you lately.”

Kurapika frowned at that, shutting his laptop. “It’s really none of your business how I feel. She’s important to me, of course I wouldn’t be frolicking around when she’s gone.”

Killua raised an eyebrow at the blonde. “Hey, she’s important to me too, but I can function on my own. I know she’ll be fine.”

“But what if she isn’t? Have you ever had someone you loved die? I worry that she could be in horrible danger every day…”

Killua went quiet, staring at Kurapika as if he wanted to say something, but couldn’t. “… she’ll be fine. I… I know she will be. She promised me she would never…”

He clamped his mouth shut, his eyes staring at the floor as Kurapika looked up from his laptop. “She promised you what?”

Killua shook his head and grabbed Alluka’s hand. “Nothing. Let’s go, we need to clean up our rooms before mom gets home.”

Kurapika had a sinking feeling that whatever Killua was talking about had something to do with the Chimera Ant Incident.

He would find out what happened eventually, but at what cost? Now, he didn’t know just how much damage the truth would cause.

They say curiosity killed the cat, and Kurapika had always been the curious type.

————————

It was 3 days before Christmas Eve, and (Name) was supposed to be home at any minute. There had been radio silence on her end the past two days, filling Kurapika with worry.

“What if she got hurt? Someone could have taken her phone and used it to say she’s fine before throwing it away!”

“Kurapika, she sent us a picture of herself two days ago.”

“… it could have been edited.”

Killua groaned, rolling his eyes. “She’s fine, blondie. You worry too much, she’s going to feel smothered by you.”

A knock at the door had them all jumping up. “Mom?” “Angel!” “Big sis?”

They ran to the door, Kurapika throwing it open to reveal (Name) behind it. Before they could all throw their arms around her, they noticed how she swayed slightly, the bags under her eyes now visible, along with the tired look on her face.

“I’m home… please… call Leorio…”

With that, she fell into Kurapika’s arms, the blonde neatly vomiting when he saw his hands coated in blood. There was a large patch of blood seeping through the back of her shirt.

Killua pulled Alluka away so she didn’t see, though he was panicking himself, he wanted to make sure his little sister didn’t have to see (Name) in this state. As he dialed Leorio’s number, Killua ushered Alluka to her room. “Go play on my switch, I’ll come get you in a minute, okay?”

Kurapika laid her on the couch, tearing off her shirt to reveal her bandages torso. When he turned her on her side, he spotted where the blood was coming from.

There seemed to be some kind of wound on her back, a fact that infuriated Kurapika. Someone attacked her while she had her back turned, and he hadn’t been there to watch over her. He felt utter shame and disgust at himself for being selfish the entire week, pouting over her absence while she was out risking her life to help others.

Leorio threw open the front door, his eyes scanning the room before he spotted (Name). Killua had crouched down next to her, tears running down his cheeks as he pushed her hair out of his face.

“(Name), Killua…”

The man kneeled down in front of her, his hand grazing over her wound. “Fuck, (Name), what happened to you?”

She shivered, sweat beading down her forehead as she struggled to speak. “Someone… who lost their family… took it out on me. He was angry… that I couldn’t… save them… I… didn’t press charges.”

Kurapika nearly crushed the coffee table with his grip. “He hurt you, (Name), why the hell did you let him get away like that? I don’t care who he lost, he doesn’t have the right to…”

He froze, a sudden chill running down his back. “He… didn’t have the right to hurt you. Not even if he was angry.”

Leorio held his hands over her back, focusing his nen on her injury as the group stayed quiet.

‘I’m a complete hypocrite. I’ve hurt her out of anger, for the sake of my anger… how can I even begin to lecture her?’

As Leorio worker his nen, her breathing slowed down. She finally relaxed once her wound healed up, giving them all a tired smile. “I’m sorry I took so long… I had so many plans for the Christmas season, but… I’m going you way too tired to do anything but rest the next few days…”

“No, no don’t you ever apologize for that, (Name). You’ve done more than enough.” Kurapika said, cupping her cheek. “This Christmas season has been the best I’ve ever had, all thanks to you.”

She sniffled, wiping away her tears before sitting up with Leorio’s help. “Thank you… I still want to cook a nice dinner for Christmas, it just… won’t be as grand as I hoped…”

Kurapika kissed her forehead, pulling her close. “As long as I have you, I don’t care. You’re all I need to be happy…”

She blushed, giving him a peck on his lips. “Could you help me upstairs? I don’t think I can do it myself…”

He nodded, scooping her up easily. “Of course. Come here, angel.”

Leorio and Killua watched as he carried her upstairs, before the man pulled Killua close. “Hey bud, she’s going to be okay. This isn’t like last time, you don’t have to worry.”

Killua was a mess, anxiety pulsing through his veins. “It’s hard… it’s hard not to worry. I can’t… I can’t lose her again. She’s my mom, I…”

Leorio patted his back. “I know, bud. I know…”

Kurapika placed (Name) on her bed, covering her up with her comforter. “Is that better, angel?”

She smiled, gently tugging at his sleeve. “It would be better if you were with me.”

She lifted the blanket, and he happily joined her, his cheeks turning pink as he buried his face into her neck. He felt just a little pathetic at how excited her got when he smelled her perfume again for the first time in a week, but that faded away when she nuzzled her nose against his.

“I’m so happy… that you stayed…”

Kurapika paused, his eyes widening a bit. “Did you… think I was going to leave while you were gone?”

She looked away for a moment, then nodded slightly. “… yes. I did.”

He felt hurt, but he couldn’t blame her for feeling the way she did. After his fight with Uvogin, he abandoned her as soon as he woke up, leaving her all alone. After that, he attempted to push her away, leading to their separation.

“I’ll never leave you… never…”

She sighed in contentment, giving him a soft kiss. “Thank you…”

The two fell asleep, the blonde keeping a protective hold over her, as if to protect her even if her dreams.

—————————

Christmas Eve arrived, and (Name) was finally feeling good enough to get to work. She delegated chores, giving Kurapika and Leorio the grocery list, then having Alluka and Killua tidy up the living room as she did the dishes and cleaned the kitchen.

Before long, the house was sparkling clean. “This looks great guys, I’m sure Santa will be very happy when he comes down the chimney tonight!”

Alluka jumped up and down in joy, nearly spilling her hot chocolate. “I’m so excited, I can’t wait for Santa to come!”

Killua took her cup, laughing. “Well I can’t wait to open presents. Mom, we still get to open two each tonight, right?”

(Name) nodded, giving both of their foreheads a kiss. “Yep! Tonight we’ll eat dinners, open gifts, then bake cookies for Santa.”

She started cooking as soon as Leorio and Kurapika got back with groceries. Within a few hours, dinner was ready and the kids were getting restless. They all ate quickly, too excited to open presents and bake.

“Okay, we’ll open gifts youngest to oldest. Alluka, you’re up first.”

They kids opened their gifts, smiling. “Ooo, new hair clips! Thank you (Name)!”

Killua was too busy putting on his new shoes to try them out to speak, his face lit up light a Christmas tree. Kurapika frowned when (Name) handed him his present, remembering that he was younger than her.

“This is from me!”

She smiled, watching as he looked over the small box in his hands. “I also got you something to open tomorrow, so you have two gifts!”

Kurapika blushed at that. He had only gotten her the one gift, and now he felt a little bad that she wouldn’t have anything from him to open tomorrow. “Th-thank you, one gift would have been enough, I promise…”

He carefully unwrapped the paper, careful not to tear it. Once unwrapped, his eyes widened, his eyes going wide with shock.

“This… is an ornament made by the Kurta people…”

Tears fell down his cheeks as he lifted it from its packaging. “Yes, I found it while I was gone on my job. Some flesh collector was selling it, but I didn’t feel good giving someone like that money, so I stole it. You’re the rightful owner, after all. You can choose what to do with it.”

He held the little ornament in the air, watching the gold paint glitter in the light. When he turned it around, he nearly dropped it in surprise.

“Oh my god…”

‘Pairo, 4’ was written in Kurtan on the back, confirming that it was a genuine Kurta ornament, but also made by Kurapika’s childhood friend. He couldn’t contain his sobs, holding the little trinket to his chest.

“Pika…”

(Name) wrapped her arms around him, letting the blonde cry into her chest. “Thank you… you don’t understand what you’ve given me, (Name)… I couldn’t ask for a better gift…”

Once he was okay enough to let her go, (Name) opened her gifts from Alluka, Leorio, and Killua.

Alluka got her new fuzzy socks with her favorite Sanrio character on them, Killua got her a gift card to her favorite restaurant, and Leorio got her a plush of her favorite anime character. She hugged them all, giggling as she placed all of her gifts in a small basket that she would carry upstairs. “These are amazing, thank you so much!”

Killua hugged her tightly, then looked away shyly. “I have another gift for you…”

(Name) tilted her head as Killua reached behind the Christmas tree, hanging her a gift bag. “Open it.”

She opened the bag, pulling her present out of the bag and looking at it, tears ending at corner of her eyes as she pulled him into a hug. “Oh, Killua…”

She held a mug in her hand, that had the words “World’s Best Mom” on the front. “You really are the best mom… you kind of… saved me.”

(Name) choked up, giving his forehead a kiss. “No, baby, you saved me.”

After a long hug, Killua squirmed away to stand off to the side, his face red. Expressing gratitude and love wasn’t easy for him, and (Name) knew that. “Okay, Leorio it’s your turn!”

(Name) handed him a gift, smiling. “This one is from Killua and Alluka!”

“Ahh, thanks guys. You didn’t have to get me anything.”

He took the wrapped present, holding it in his hands with barely contained excitement. Leorio was almost more into unwrapping presents than Killua and Alluka were.

He unwrapped it quickly and held up a blue tshirt with white lettering on it. It read “Med School Student”.

“It’s awful, I love it.”

Leorio pulled off the sweater he had on and put the tshirt on in its place. It was a little tight, clinging to his pectoral muscles, but it fit well enough. “Oh wow, you really are a stud!”

The group laughed, and they all gathered in the kitchen to make cookies for Santa. Alluka helped make the dough with (Name) as the boys mixed the icing. Kurapika, who seemed to be clumsy any time he tried to impress (Name), was forced to wash the cookie cutters instead.

“I don’t think there’s any way I could mess up icing…” Kurapika mumbled, drying off the icing. (Name) leaned over to kiss his cheek.

“Mmm, don’t jinx us, Pika.”

His cheeks flushed at her affection, causing him to lean into her. “I think I’ll be okay if I get another kiss.”

“Oh really?”

She laughed, pulling him in for a kiss, her lips tasting like sugar cookies. He wrapped his arms around her, letting his tongue flick out to taste her. “Mmph-! Okay Pika, that’s enough. The kids are right there,” she whispered, pulling away.

(Name) and Alluka laid out the dough, and with some help from the others, they made cookies. It was a lot of fun, and even though they all ended up covered in flour and dough, they all laughed. “I’m glad I didn’t have you all change into the matching pajamas yet, that would have been a disaster!”

She helped clean off Alluka and Killua’s faces before putting the cookies in the oven. “There we go, let’s get this mess cleaned up while they cook.

(Name) stood at the counter, wiping it down. It wasn’t every day she allowed her friends to help her this much, and she was realizing just how much easier life was when she let them take a bit of the weight off her shoulders. Instead of taking an hour to clean up the mess, it only took 10 minutes, the cookies being done right when they got done.

“Okay, they’ll need to cook off for a few minutes.”

Kurapika nodded, looking over their little cookies. Some were a bit lopsided and crooked, but he adored each and every one of them. He tried not to laugh at Leorio’s crude attempt at making a stethoscope. It looked more like the head of an elephant, but Leorio still seemed proud. “Oh, my cookie came out good!”

After they cooled down, everyone decorated and ate cookies. (Name) snatched up a few to keep for “Santa” before they could be devoured. “Alright guys, don’t forget who we made this for!”

She pinched Nanika and Killua’s cheek. Nanika was more of the artistic type, while Alluka preferred baking over decorating. “Sorry mama, they’re good!”

Kurapika sat, hunched over his own cookies. (Name) attempted to peek over his shoulder, but she was quickly swatted away. “Hey, no peeking, and get out of the light!”

(Name) snickered. “Oh my, so sorry Kurapika.”

She moved on to look at Leorio’s cookies, humming softly. “It’s… unique.”

“It’s ugly.”

“No, no it’s not!”

Leorio looked over his attempt at a stethoscope. They didn’t have silver so he had to use green, making it look more like a tree with vines than a stethoscope. “It’s cute, and it looks tasty.”

Kurapika cleared his throat to catch (Name)’s attention, and she smiled softly. “Can I see them now?”

He nodded, holding out the plate for her inspection. It was two gingerbread men, one with yellow hair and the other with (h/c) hair. “I uh… I made us. And we’re holding hands…”

She blushed, her fingers tips grazing the Kurapika cookie. “This is too cute…”

A phone was whipped out of her pocket in a split second, Kurapika blinking when she neatly blinded him with the flash. “There, now we can eat them!”

After they all feasted on cookies, they all slumped on the couch. (Name) was sitting on Kurapika’s lap, the blond rubbing circles into her tummy. “Ughh I think I ate too many cookies.”

He hummed softly, and at the moment he reminded her of a satisfied cat. His hands kneaded at her soft flesh as he held her close, his face buried in her neck.

“Mom can you make him stop? I’m gonna get sick,” Killua said with a groan. He was sprawled out on the floor as Alluka patted his back.

“Don’t be mean, Killua. He’s helping me feel better.”

She sighed, getting comfortable in Kurapika’s lap before selecting a Christmas movie for them to watch before they went to bed. Occasionally Leorio leaned closer to the two, getting some snuggles from (Name) before she was pulled back into Kurapika’s embrace. “Stingy!”

Kurapika stuck his tongue out at Leorio. “Maybe, but I’m stingy with what’s mine.”

(Name) blushed, her face buried in his shoulder. Was she really his? He wanted her to belong with him and stay by his side?

All she could hope is that he was hers too, and that he would stick by her as well.

The Christmas movie ended, and Leorio carried the kids to their rooms as they snored. “You two go ahead to bed, I’ll handle the Santa duties.”

(Name) kissed his cheek. “Thank you, Leorio. I’m so tired…”

“I figured, you still haven’t fully recovered.”

Kurapika held onto her hand as they walked upstairs. She put on a good show for the kiddos, but Leorio and Kurapika could see the exhaustion in her eyes. “Let’s get tucked in, angel. You need your rest.”

The two snuggled in bed. Ever since they had sex, Kurapika had been finding his way to her bed. Sometimes he slept in his own room due to staying up late for research, and then (Name) would wake up with him in her arms.

As she drifted off, she felt him give her forehead a kiss. “Merry Christmas, angel.”

————————

Kurapika woke up to an empty bed, bus first reaction being to panic. The blonde patted the empty spot before his eyes shot open and his chest began to heave. “(Name)? Angel, where are you?”

Usually his grip on her meant they woke up together because she couldn’t get out of bed without waking him, but he had turned over in the night.

Although he knew that she was probably just downstairs, he couldn’t help the panic that set in. He had lost so many people, it was part of the reason he was so clingy. He couldn’t lose her, he refused to.

“Pika? Were you calling?”

(Name) peeked in the door, still wearing her pajamas that matched his own. “Angel…”

Kurapika stumbled forward, holding her face in his hands so he could pepper kisses into her face. “Please, if you leave the bed, wake and inform me before you go… I worry.”

She smiled, feeling her body melt under his touch. “I’m sorry, I didn’t want to wake you up so early. I was just making a Christmas breakfast…”

He stared at her, the harsh, terrified shade of scarlet fading to the one only she got to see. “Let me help. I’m good with breakfast foods.”

The two made a heaping amount of pancakes, eggs, and bacon, and once the smell wafted through the house, everyone left their rooms.

Leorio rose from the couch, wiping the drool from his face. “Mmm… I think I was dreaming about your pancakes, (Name).”

She giggled. “Maybe! Come on, let’s eat so the kids can open their presents! I think I see a few more under the tree…”

Alluka gasped, running over to the plate of cookies, seeing that Leorio Santa had taken bites out of a few cookies, beheading the Kurapika cookie. Kurapika’s eyebrow twitched at the sight. “Was that necessary?”

Alluka huffed. “Hey, don’t question Santa! He might have thought your head looked tasty!”

Kurapika rubbed his temple. “Sure, sure…”

Killua snickered before stuffing his face with another bite of pancakes.

———————

After breakfast, (Name) pulled presents out from under the tree, placing them in piles in front of each person. Kurapika was surprised to see he had quite a few wrapped. “Where did all of these come from?”

(Name) smiled. “Gon and Melody sent you a gift in the mail, and the rest are from Alluka, Killua, and Leorio.”

Kurapika felt so loved in the moment. Since he had lost his clan, he rarely got many presents for his birthday or Christmas. The gift he got from (Name) on his birthday two years ago had been the first gift he received in years.

He had come so far, now surrounded by friends that appreciated and cared for him. “Alright everyone, you can start opening presents in 3, 2, 1!”

They began opening their gifts, Kurapika staring for a minute before he followed suit.

By the end of the session, Kurapika had a brand new pair of shoes from Leorio, a nice hair care kit from Alluka, a new book from Killua, a pair of heavy duty sunglasses from Gon, and a pastel pink scarf from Melody.

Kurapika looked so proud of his gifts, showing them off to (Name) before tucking them away safely in his room.

When he got back downstairs, (Name) smiled. “You have one more from me, Pika.”

He looked up before looking back at his gift. “You’re too kind, (Name)…”

He tore off the wrapping, tilting his head. “What is this?”

She giggled. “It’s a switch, a handheld game! You can play with friends across the world. You have a few games on it, so why don’t you let Killua and Alluka help you out?”

Kurapika nodded. “Ah, this is like the gameboys Pairo and I would see in magazines. Oh!”

He looked in wonder as he turned it on, and (Name) left him, Killua and Alluka taking over teaching him. By the time Leorio and (Name) finished with throwing away all of the wrapping paper, they had all started playing Minecraft with Gon.

“(Name) look, I’ve made a house!”

She peeked over Kurapika’s shoulder. “Wow, you really have!”

The day was spent with the adults laying around and watching movies or playing on their new game systems, while the kids ran around outside with their new toys.

Killua got a new skateboard and dirt bike, which he rode through the forest with Alluka clinging to his bike. “You sure they’ll be fine?” Kurapika asked, not looking up from his switch.

“They’ll be fine enough.”

By the end of the day, everyone was relaxing by the fire, sipping hot chocolate as they watched another Christmas movie. Kurapika kept a hand on her thigh, smiling. “I think this has been the best winter season I’ve had since…”

He didn’t have to finish his sentence, she knew what he meant. (Name) took his hand, planting a kiss on it. “I’m glad. You deserve to be happy.”

As she snuggled up to him, her pajama pants leg rode up a little, revealing she still had a few healing scratches and scrapes from when they went ice skating a few weeks ago. “(Name), why haven’t healed those up? I can’t imagine they’re comfortable.”

She set her hot chocolate down, Leorio and Kurapika freezing in their spots. With a sigh, she rolled her pants back down. “I’m sure you’ve heard about the Chimera Ant incident by now.”

Kurapika felt his heart race. Was finally she going to tell him what happened now?

(Name) looked like she was choosing her next words carefully, her face concentrated in though. “Well… during that incident, I… lost my ability to heal myself. I… don’t want to talk about it, but I’ll say one thing. It was… in exchange for… something… at least that’s my theory.”

Kurapika was a little bit disappointed by how little information he got, but he was still concerned to hear she had lost the power to heal herself. When he thought about it, she had relied on Leorio to heal her wound. ‘I should have realized sooner… what if she got hurt, and I didn’t know she couldn’t heal herself?’

He was glad to know this information, because it would mean he’d be more prepared and able to keep her safe. If he knew her weaknesses, he could plan around them. “I see…”

Kurapika didn’t push the subject. He could see the topic made everyone but him and Alluka uncomfortable.

As they got in bed that night, (Name) stared down at her leg, remembering the events of the Chimera Ant Incident.

‘I can’t let him know, it would break him…’