#like ??? the fear hole just had her roll up in here and break up the family a little bit ??? where tf was jerry ???

[bolly--quinn]

If Diane came back for real she would get along with Morty so well that Rick would be the one jealous and angry about being left behind. Diane and Morty babyyy

you're sooooo right anon like that's her baby's baby, that's her little baby boy, that's HER little guy she'd be like his biggest fan and always in his corner that's HER GRANDSON OK <3

like GOOD ENDING:

[joonberriess]

𓆩♡𓆪 “you don’t have to admit you wanna play, just let me rock you till the break of day,” – jock!jk

·˚ ༘ 💌 TAGS — simping at its finest, blowjobs, cum-swallowing, degradation, dumbification, jk is mean but also a praise fanatic, oc is a cute puppy who eats it all up, objectification(?) pretty sure bc jk just has unholy thoughts about oc, oc is THEE it girl, dirty talking, messy lil make-outs, thank you kiss on the tip LOL, PET NAME GALORE, oc is a nice lil bimbo everyone loves ❤️ even jk’s friends luv her

Jungkook listened to whatever the hell Jennie was explaining to him, in truth he stopped paying attention like five minutes ago. He sat there like a fried vegetable just zoning out and nodding mindlessly whenever Jennie looked at him and asked if he agreed etc. He didn’t want to be rude to Jennie but any more of this and he’d go insane he fears.

“So for the powerpoint I was thinking we should..” Jennie’s voice slowly fades out as the sound of the front door opening catches Jungkook’s eye/attention. Holy shit he doesn’t believe what he’s witnessing. He doesn’t realize he’s staring hardcore at Jennie’s poor unsuspecting roommate.

He instantly recognizes you as the girl he sees his team/friends go crazy over. You were quite the talk of the campus—cute, slutty, bimbo-like, these were some of the most common things said. If Jungkook had to admit, you were pretty cute and he’s only ever really seen you casually here and there. He finds himself licking his lips slowly and sitting up while clearing his throat.

“Hi Jennie, hi Jennie’s friend.” You sweetly say while waving at Jungkook politely. He gets an eyeful of tits and soft tummy as you pass by.

You’re wearing this soft pink tracksuit and white baby tee crop top which hugs your pretty little tits just nicely. Don’t even get him started about your backside which is enough in itself to bring a tear to his eye. Jungkook doesn’t realize he’s overdoing it with his staring until Jennie clears her throat pretty loudly.

“Ahem.” She glares at him, “As I was saying,” she shoves her laptop in Jungkook’s face.

He doesn’t see more of you because you end up heading down the hall to your room after saying “bye-bye” to both him and Jennie. “What? Why are you looking at me like that?” He grunts in annoyance.

“Not my roommate Jeon, you can go about fucking anything that fucking walks and has a hole between their legs but you leave y/n out of your lechery. Got it?” She hisses, “I can see the gears working in that stupid head of yours, so I’m warning you. Now help me with this powerpoint asshole, I’m not doing all the work.”

Jungkook internally groans—overprotective roommate, greaaat.

Whole time he works on the project his mind is filled with obscene thoughts and nasty little daydreams he comes up with just thinking about you. Jungkook’s had his fair share of hook-ups but none have ever truly made him go this crazy before. He’s fucking FIENDING for it, would be on his damn knees begging for you to crush his head with your soft thighs if he could.

Too bad Jennie said you were off-limits though. Unless..

Much to Jungkook’s dismay he doesn’t see you for the remainder of the time he’s there. He does see you more often around campus though, whether it’s you hopping out of your very pink car or you running about all over campus with a pink drink in your hands. He can’t get enough of you, and it’s fucking obvious to his friends who make fun of him for it.

“y/n, Kook? Really?” Yugyeom snorts, “Only in your fucking dreams will you ever hit that, your little guy down there probably wouldn’t even know what to do with all that ass.” Laughter all around them erupts as Yugyeom smugly smirks, happy with himself.

Jungkook rolls his eyes, “You’re so fucking stupid,” more laughing, “honestly, if anyone has more chances it’s me, you’re all either losers AND she’s never bat an eye at you. I don’t see any action from any of you either, all talk and shit.” He mutters while taking a drag from the blunt they were all passing around.

“Not true! y/n is a nice girl Jungkook.” Jimin snorts, “Watch,” he turns around and looks over the area for you, “hey y/n!” He yells while waving his arms. They all wait patiently for your reaction, low and behold you just end up proving Jimin correct.

You look confused at first until you smile brightly, “Hi,” you wave back while walking over, “what are you guys up to?” You tilt your head, lips pursed in a adorable little pout.

“Smoking.” Yugyeom replies curtly, “Want some?” He holds the blunt out to you.

Jungkook doesn’t know why but that shit irks the fuck out of him, he shoots his friend a glare and fans the smoke out of your direction before it can hit you. You smell like chai mixed with pumpkin, and he definitely does NOT want to ruin your pretty smell.

“No thank you,” you politely reply and then turn to look at Jimin again, “ ‘m a little sad though, because this morning I tried to make waffles but I didn’t know you had to actually pull the lever down and I didn’t get to eat my waffles.” You sigh wistfully, “See?” You hold out the raw and cold waffles wrapped up in a napkin, “And I don’t like it,” you shake your head, “you’re my friend right Jiminie? Can you buy me some waffles from the cafe pretty please?” You whine.

Jimin turns a little red at the nickname and nods, “Here,” he holds out a couple of bills, more than enough.

The other guys scramble for their wallets, “I’m your friend too right y/n?” They say while holding out their own money to you. Jungkook just stands there slack-jawed, he has never seen his own friends this fucking down-bad before. Oh, but they wanted to laugh at him for simping after you? Funny how the tables have turned.

“Reallyyyy?” You breathily giggle while accepting the money, “Thank you!” You kiss Jimin on the cheek before skipping away with literally breakfast, lunch, and dinner money.

“But I’M the fuckin’ simp? Yeah, totally.” Jungkook scoffs while shaking his head.

Jungkook starts making up an excuse to talk to you from then on. He doesn’t have to do much because you do all the talking for him, he just stands there listening to you ramble on and on about something he doesn’t recall asking. He thinks it’s cute when you stop mid-sentence and say in utter confusion, “What was I talking about again?”

If he could, he’d sit there and just listen to you talk all day. He’s surprised how much he likes your ditziness and dumb little brain fart moments, he finds that he doesn’t mind it so much. Like now, he was sitting there propped up against his car in the parking lot listening to you rant about astrology, time-loops, and anime..?

“Yeah?” Jungkook occasionally says while he watches you passionately explain to him what a fucking shinigami was.

“Think about it—politics and death notebooks, they go hand in hand for disaster and doom.” You softly say, completely side-tracking from the original topic, “I wish I had a shinigami though,” you pout while tapping your finger against your chin, “I think Ryuk is pretty cool. Have you seen the anime?”

Jungkook hums, “No, heard of it but haven’t seen it. So like, shinigami’s come with a death note or what?” He asks, ready for another little rant of yours (he doesn’t mind though). His eyes fall down to your pretty camisole you wore today. You were wearing these cute tight jeans that hung low on your hips, he loved the little pink bows you attached to the belt loops.

“Mm-hm,” you nod, “oh! I gotta go before I forget, all my undies shrunk in the dryer and now they’re pretty tight ‘n they fit a little smaller so now I have to buy some more.” You pout, “Bye Jungkookie,” you throw one arm around his neck as you side-hug him, standing on your tippy toes to reach his height as you press a kiss to his cheek, “bye-bye!” You wave and run off.

“Bye..” Jungkook whispers in awe, he smells a hint of your perfume on his shirt and he vows then and there he isn’t going to wash this shirt anytime soon.

The next time that Jungkook sees you it’s when he’s leaving your shared apartment after another project session. He sees you bent over while poking and trying to pull at the gas tank lid, which is obviously sealed shut. He whistles under his breath and walks over, eyes dropping down to your perky ass which is covered in these pretty little shorts which hug both cheeks nice and tight.

“What you doing down there, hm?” Jungkook leans against the car with his arms folded over his chest and an amused smile on his face, “Having fun?”

“Jungkook, hi,” you greet softly while standing up straight, “I was just trying to get this stupid thingy open because Jennie is letting me borrow her car cause mine is in the shop getting the windows tinted,” you pout, “but I don’t know how to open this stupid thing, and I wanna fill her car with gas as a thank you for letting me borrow it. Help meeeee,” you whine tugging at his arm.

“C’mere,” he loosely wraps an arm around your waist and guides you to sit in the driver's seat, “you see this baby?” He squats down so he’s eye-level with you, his free hand rests over your soft thighs while he points with his other, “You just pull this, and wa-la, the gas tank lid pops right open.” He chuckles and squeezes your thigh.

Your eyes brighten, “Reallyyy? How cool, thank you.” You happily throw your arms around his neck and hug him tightly, “no wonder that stupid thing wasn’t opening.” You giggle.

Jungkook takes a deep whiff of your soft coconut smell, he closes his eyes and sighs in pure bliss. This was the dream dammit, he never wanted to leave this spot EVER. “It was no problem really.” He mumbles more to himself while he stares at your pretty tits.

Fuck the friend code (if you can even call Jennie’s threat that), friend code didn’t have a pair of child-bearing hips and a ass shaped like a fucking peach like you did. Who was Jennie to keep all of you to herself so selfishly?

“Jungkook,” you softly say, “ ‘m gonna give you a thank you kiss.”

Jungkook laughs in amusement over how proud of yourself you look right now, he finds himself shaking his head and speaking in a lower pitched tone, “Yeah, where? Right here?” He turns his face to stick his cheek out.

A tiny little giggle escapes your lips as you nod at him, “Mm-hmm, right there.” You lean upwards to kiss his cheek gently, emitting a soft smacking noise as you happily smooch him. “There.” You say more to yourself.

Jungkook’s eyes drop down to your jiggly boobs which are pretty much in his face at this point. Your camisole somehow dips lower as your tits sit perfectly pushed together to accentuate their size. He tells himself not to but his dick seems to say otherwise as it stirs up in the confinements of his boxers. He already knows he’s about to be sporting a hard-on by the end of this interaction so he gives in.

“Want another kiss..” He mumbles while licking his lips, “But not on my cheek..got somethin’ else you can kiss.”

Your eyes follow his line of sight and you come across the very prominent bulge sitting behind his sweats. Your cheeks feel hot from embarrassment as the familiar throbbing sensation forms between your legs. Jungkook sees this when you suddenly begin rubbing your soft thighs together while staring back at him through half-lidded eyes.

“Whaddya say baby,” he lazily grins, “can I get that kiss?”

You stare back at him with those sweet puppy eyes of yours and nod eagerly.

.

Lips smacking against lips and quiet little moans/noises fill the otherwise dimly lit car (God bless his Mercedes for the interior lighting). You were tucked away on his lap in the backseat of the car, windows foggy and all as your hand slipped from the glass. Jungkook could die a happy man right now with the way he had a handful of ass sitting in the palms of his hands. He gave your soft cheeks appreciative squeezes as he kneaded the flesh roughly—greedily.

His own lips were a bit swollen from the hot make-out session but he didn’t mind, you were one hell of a kisser. One thing he didn’t see coming was how much of a little sex fiend you were, he swears he can’t keep up with how needy and slutty you are. He almost finds it cute how you pout and beg for him to let you have it while simultaneously humping him and refusing to let him part from the kiss.

Jungkook raised his hand and brought it down hard on your ass cheek, relishing in the resounding slap noise and how it recoiled/bounced in place. A slutty little moan escapes your lips as you pull back and pant softly against his lips, “Take ‘em off,” you slur softly, “hate these stupid shorts, gettin’ in my way.” You mumble with a tiny pout.

“Gonna let me see what’s underneath baby?” He looks up through his hooded eyes, grinning when he sees you eagerly nodding back at him, “Yeah? Go on then, slide ‘em off baby, show me what you got on.” He smacks your ass and gropes it harshly, only letting go when you whine at him while unbuttoning your shorts.

He swears under his breath as soon as the button pops open and you slip the zipper down. The hem of your undies comes into view, he sees a tiny bow sitting at the top so innocently and he can’t help but wonder what the rest of your panties are like.. Jungkook reclines back on the seat and parts his legs to make room for you.

You manage to slip your shorts down your thighs slowly with your hips swaying from side to side. Jungkook lets out an audible groan when he sees the cheeky undergarment that was hiding underneath. “Well don’t you look pretty,” he comments while running his hand over your ass, “bet you look prettier under.” He mumbles while licking his lips.

“But what about your kiss?” You pout.

Jungkook smacks your ass wickedly, “Don’t give me that fuckin’ pout. Didn’t know you were that eager to suck my cock, ‘s all you’re good for isn’t it baby? Just a dumb little thing who needs her mouth filled huh?” He grins when he hears you moan, “You gonna be a good little cock sleeve for me?”

“The best,” you happily slur, “ ‘m gonna swallow every last drop, promise.”

He finds it endearing when you hold your pinky out to him, and not wanting to be mean he hooks his pinky with yours, “Good girl.” He brings you in for a gentle little smooch, “Gonna ruin that pretty face of yours baby,” he whispers in-between kisses, “get on your knees for me.”

Jungkook finds that he likes how submissive and responsive you are to him, makes it a hundred times sexier in his opinion. You sink to your knees in front of him without missing a beat, you have your hands set over his knees as you sit there waiting with puppy eyes. “Go ahead baby, ‘s all yours.” He chuckles.

You eagerly paw at his sweats and with his help pull them down alongside his boxers until his fat cock is springing out and slapping against his lower abdomen. Your mouth waters when your eyes land on his perfectly sculpted cock, now you wanna feel it inside of you more than ever. His cock lays against his stomach, flush at the tip with prominent veins on the underside of his shaft.

“ ‘s mine…?” You whisper breathily while pursing yours lips, “ ‘s so pretty..” You’re talking more to yourself as you grab ahold of his throbbing cock and bring the mushroomy tip to your lips. Your tongue pokes out as you swirl it over the head, moaning softly at the tangy taste.

Jungkook bites down on his lip as he watches with hooded eyes, he can’t believe his wet dreams are coming true. Did he save an entire country in his past life? Made sense with how lucky he was right now. He brings his tattooed hand over the back of your head as he simply rests it there, letting you explore his dick like if it was a lollipop or some shit.

Your lips wrap around the head as you make these sloppy little sucking noises. Trickles of saliva begin to trickle down his cock, you use it as lube to stroke his girthy shaft—twisting and turning your hand around it while you noisily swallow around the tip. Jungkook’s lips part with breathy sighs escaping him, he relaxes into the seat and leans his head back with his eyes slipped shut.

You’re working wonders on his cock right now with the way you’re slowly taking more and more of him into your mouth. “Like that,” he whispers more to himself as he moans out again when you dip your tongue into the sensitive slit of his tip. Your strokes become slower but much more intense with the pressure you start applying. It’s getting a lot harder now to control himself from bucking his hips or something.

“Shit, don’t tease me baby,” he groans, “been thinking about your pretty little lips wrapped around my cock for weeks now. Knew you’d look pretty with a mouth full of cock.” Jungkook opens his eyes again to admire the view. “Open up for me baby,” he reaches down to thumb at your lower lip, “there you go—like that.” He grins.

He feeds you more of his cock watching as you eagerly take more and more until the tip hits the back of your throat. It sends you into a small gagging fit but the vibrations and pressure of your throat closing around him definitely sends zaps of hot pleasure down in his groin and lower belly. “Shit.” He groans loudly.

You whine around his cock and pull away to catch your breath, his cock slips from your mouth with a string of saliva connecting your lips to his cock. Jungkook hisses quietly under his breath and reaches down to stroke his slicked up cock, “Messy little thing you are.”

“Off, off, ‘s my turn.” You huff cutely before swallowing his cock in one go now that you’re a bit more prepared.

It takes Jungkook by surprise as he groans loudly and throws his head back. You begin working wonders with that sinful tongue of yours, pairing it with some mean ass sucks. He lets his hand slip from the back of your head to the nape of your neck, just holding you there as he lets you do your thing. You begin bobbing your head slowly while noisily swallowing around his cock.

“Fucking hell y/n,” he whispers slack-jawed, you’re a damn menace. How the hell is he supposed to last? “You just needed something to fill that needy hole of yours didn’t you?” He pants softly, “Knew the moment I saw you that you were made for my cock baby. If only you could see yourself now.” He licks his lips and gives your neck a small gentle squeeze between his fingers.

You slurp up all the slick you leave behind on his cock, your hand sits at the base just idly gripping him while your mouth does all the work. You pull all the way up until the tip sits in your mouth before you swoop back down to take all of him in. He repeatedly hits the back of your throat but you do a much better job at controlling your gag reflex this time around. Your sloppy pace definitely has Jungkook moaning and grunting under his breath.

“Gonna cum,” he sighs, “keep going—like that.” He whispers as a full body shudder falls over him.

You eagerly pull off his cock and begin stroking him at a frantic pace. You watch with glee as his cock begins to throb in your hold, but you don’t let it deter you one bit. You’re eager to see him cum, you want it all in your mouth. “Like this?” You say this while squeezing around the tip and flicking your thumb over it.

Jungkook gasps softly, “Fuck..!” He hisses.

You smile deviously and bring the tip over your lips, “Or like this?” You whisper, blowing softly over his sensitive head before you take him back into your mouth.

Jungkook lets out a mantra of “fucks” and “yes’s” as he reaches down to grip his cock, his hand covers your own as he begins moving your hand up and down on his cock. You suckle at the head and watch as he comes undone. “Oh fuckkk..” He whispers as his cock throbs, cum shooting down your throat as you swallow around him greedily.

He slumps in the seat and pants quietly while watching you clean his dick with your sinful little tongue. He doesn’t think he’s ever cum that hard in his entire life before. He saw the pearly white gates of heaven just now.. “A-Ah shit, no more baby, ‘s sensitive.” He chuckles breathily when you try to suck on his (slowly softening) cock.

You pull back with a cheerful smile on your face, the corner of your mouth has drool and a bit of cum but you don’t seem to mind, “ ‘s so pretty.” You coo like his dick is the most amazing thing ever, he watches you lean over to press a tiny little kiss to the sensitive head.

Are you even real??

“C’mere,” he pats his lap, “I saw the way you were humping your own hand like a bitch in heat the entire time you had my cock in your mouth.” He says as he hauls you up, “You also deserve a nice little thank you, don’t you baby?” He grins while stroking his hands over your soft cheeks.

You nod eagerly, “Mm-hm,” you wrap your arms around his neck and tug him closer, “do you wanna come upstairs after this? I wanna introduce you to my bunny Luna! Oh, and we can watch some anime together because I think it’s lame you haven’t seen Sailor Moon OR Death Note.” You huff in disbelief.

Little did Jungkook know that by saying yes to all that he’d end up staying for wayyyyy longer than he initially planned. You becoming (a important) part of his life was a bonus. <3

TAGLIST: @fragmentof-indifference @jungkooksseuphoria @kooliv @angelarin @jjeonjjk7 @lilliankoo @pb-n-juju @ellesalazar @saweetspoiled @laylasbunbunny @prettyprincejk @cherrysainttt @hyunjinswifeee @joongraduatewithonor @hellbornsworld @leire-mia @m1sss1mp @lissful @winkii @lifeless-firefly @exactlygreatcoffee @taestoess @ayalies @floweryjeons @softtcurse @lilspinachwrld @tearyjjeon @littleobsessedkitty @lovelovelovebts @angeljmnie @rerefundslocals @bangtans-mama @thvhoe @maddkitt @tvse @ohjeon @teteswtnr @jkslovey12 @kelsyx33 @milfpo1ice @sluttydidi @ztyur @beomgyuult @shescharlie @sweet-sourhotcoco @lalita-7 @hazzzelsdimension @p34rluv @kook-net @bonita0-0 @vmapy @dahliadaenerys @gukiebaby @babycandy111

[uniivrz]

mic'd up

katie mccabe x reader

+ summary: reader, still on the acl squad, has been approached by the arsenal media staff asking if she'd go mic'd up in the stands for one of arsenal's games.

+ warnings: ACL injury mentions right off the bat. swearing. made up game (arsenal v tottenham). reader really embracing the WAG life.

a/n: i came across a video of katie during one of the covid matches, and due to the empty stadium you could hear everything she said— and that's where i got this idea :) my first post, hope you enjoy!

like any other football player, you hated the dreaded three letters that would take whoever was the unlucky soul out of the game for a long while.

of course it had always been a fear in the back of your mind, you just never thought it would actually happen to you.

that day you went down on the pitch had been one of the worst. not just for you, but for katie as well as the rest of your arsenal team.

everything had been fine. arsenal was up by two, and half time had just ended. it was around the 52nd minute, when a purposely bad tackle from a chelsea player left you on the ground, clutching your knee as you attempted to keep the tears at bay. (only to fail).

some time later you were holed up in one of the physio rooms of the stadium, when katie came in, the look on your face confirming her worst fear.

honestly, it was getting quite scary how many arsenal players were getting ACL injuries.

she had been by your side for all of it, constantly making sure you were comfortable and had everything you needed, as well as driving you to and from appointments.

the downside meant you weren't able to travel with the team for away games, forcing yourself to be holed up in your flat you shared with katie— often inviting the rest of the ACL squad over to watch the game together, knowing you'd be insufferable on your own.

luckily for you, today was a home game. you woke up before katie that morning, hobbling down the stairs on your good leg, (and nearly eating shit in the process), you'd prepared her a proper breakfast, consisting of pancakes, bacon, & eggs.

the brunette soon appeared in the kitchen behind your unsuspecting frame, an adoring smile crossing her face at the sight of you lightly nodding your head to whatever song came from the speaker on the marble counter.

nearly jumping out of your skin at the feeling of two strong arms wrapping around your waist, your body relaxed as you registered the familiar feeling of katie, her arms clad in her arsenal training jacket.

you leaned into her touch as you finished up with the bacon, her thick irish accent rang through your ears as her nose brushed against your neck gently. "you should not be on your feet,"

rolling your eyes fondly, you forced yourself to suppress a smile. ever since your injury, katie had been treating you as if you were a porcelain doll— going to break at the slightest touch.

while sometimes it became a little overbearing, it warmed your heart for her to be this protecting with you, and you wouldn't trade it for the world.

"i was cleared to walk without my crutches, katie," your giggled, relishing in the ticklish feeling of her light breathing against the back of your neck.

"still. ya should have waited for me." she murmured. "i could have carried you down here."

you rolled your eyes once again.

for the first few weeks/months of your injury, she had insisted on carrying you everywhere. from the bed to downstairs, from the front door to the car. no matter where it was— she wanted to carry you. wether it was bridal style, your legs wrapped around her waist, or giving you a piggy back, she didn't care.

after breakfast was finished, you rushed back up to change. you settled on one of katie's hoodie's, along with her jersey which you threw on top, and a pair of her sweatpants. nearly everything you wore was hers.

when you'd returned downstairs, she grinned widely at the sight of you dressed in her attire, and couldn't restrain herself from letting her hands roam your body as you shoved your feet into some sneakers.

"oi hands off, mccabe."

the ireland captain chuckled, tapping your rear end before you stood back up, sending you a cheeky wink when you glared at her.

arriving at the emirates with your personal chauffeur, the two of you made your way through the grounds, greeting any staff members you'd passed by and waving to the media staff as you each made your way toward your separate destinations.

you had a brief session with a physio to assure everything was still fine and dandy with your knee, whereas katie was heading off toward the locker room with the others.

as you left your meeting 15-ish minutes later, you had been wandering the halls when you were stopped by one of the media staff, claiming they had a task for you.

since you were going to be in the stands again, they had asked if you would go mic'd up, thinking it'd be a fun video idea for arsenal's youtube channel.

you agreed quickly, thrilled at the idea. they had informed you that there would be a camera a little ways away from you, to capture your reactions in both your voice as well as your actions.

one of the members clipped a small square microphone device to the collar of your (katie's) jersey, as another member held a camera and recorded your actions.

Youtube

Y/N L/N MIC'D UP • ARSENAL V TOTTENHAM

Arsenal 578K views 6:38

0:00

[Camera fades in from black to show you, stood in one of the many corridors of the Emirates Stadium.]

grinning, you gripped your shirt and pulled it closer, "we've got mccabe! katie mccabe! can you hear me?" you asked, looking into the camera that was recording you.

[Laughter is heard around you before the scene cuts and fades into a brief black screen. When it returns, the camera is unfocused, going in an out before focusing on you, looking at the camera as you don't realize it's recording.]

"is it going?" you asked with a dopey smile, the cameraman behind you nodding. "right. hi, i'm y/n l/n and today i'll be mic'd up as i watch tonight's game." you giggle, pointing at the microphone clipped to your shirt before you make your way toward your seat.

[Camera follows you down the hall before cutting to you sat with Beth, Viv, and Leah, the former two sat in the row below you. You pull a small, barely noticeable box out of your pocket. The camera zooms in on your hand, revealing the box is actually a miniature uno deck.]

"i know how we can pass the time," you grin micheviously.

0:45

[Camera cuts to the four of you playing uno, Beth and Viv swiveled in their seats to face you and Leah above them. It catches Leah attempting to peek at your cards before you shove her head away, the scene then switching to a new clip of the four women arguing.]

"absolutely not, beth cheated!" leah yells, hands dropping dramatically onto her thighs with a loud smack.

"you fucking wish! you just suck williamson!"

[Viv is seen trying to keep the peace as you laugh loudly, the four of you gaining looks from surrounding match watchers— only for them to look away at the sight of four of arsenal's own. Your laughter becomes louder as Leah slams her tiny cards aggressively onto your thigh, folding her arms and leaning back in her chair with a pout.]

"oh, cheer up captain," you pout mockingly, reaching to pinch her cheeks between your fingers.

1:02

[Camera cuts to the teams walkout, briefly showing Katie McCabe before turning back to you, a large grin on your face, never failing to leave.]

"that's my girl!" you shout, hands cupped around your mouth to make yourself louder. "let's go number fifteen!"

1:39

[Cuts to you leaned back in your seat with your arms folded. An amused look is on your face as you shake your head. Camera pans to the big screen as Katie's name is shown, a yellow card next to it.]

"it's been like thirty minutes and she already has a card," you giggle to yourself before sighing fondly, a gentle smile on your face. "that's my girl."

2:06

[Different camera shows Katie sliding her foot in front of a Tottenham player, successfully and cleanly retrieving the ball from her feet before panning to you with your elbows propped up on your knees, head resting in your hands.]

"oh my god, she's so hot." you sighed absentmindedly, momentarily forgetting about those surrounding you and the microphone attached to your collar.

[Beside you, Leah bursts out laughing, the sound picking up through your mic as the blonde discretely turning to the cameraman who has now directed it toward her, pointing at you before fake wretching.]

3:21

[Camera shows you jumping up out of your seat, annoyance clear on your face as your hands are perched on your hips.]

"oh, come the fuck on! that's so clearly a foul!"

4:38

[During halftime, the camera follows as the four of you briefly leave your seats to join the girls in the locker room. The cameraman does not enter, only filming the door, however you can be heard from inside.]

"north london is what?!"

"north london is red!" an irish voice answers you.

"hell yeah it is!" you reply, then followed by the sound of palms smacking against each other.

another voice cuts in, "alright, simmer down you two!"

"oi! put her down, she's fragile!"

4:50

[Camera cuts to you stood with your hands on Katie's shoulders, giving her your usual half time pep talk, brushing stray fly-aways out of her face as she smiles at you. The sound is cut off, so the viewers can only see the motion of both players' lips moving as you speak to each other, the final thing being Katie moving toward you, scenes changing just before any PDA is shown.]

5:47

[Camera pans from Katie running around the pitch celebrating, arms in the air and then back to you, the four Arsenal players chanting together, you being the loudest and most enthusiastic of the four.]

"we've got mccabe! katie mccabe! i just don't think you understand! she plays out on the wing! she hits it with a zing! we've got katie mccabe!"

6:25

[Video closes out with you and Katie stood outside of the stadium, her arm wrapped around your shoulder as you do the outro.]

"that was me mic'd up, i hope i was entertaining enough for you all. thanks for watching." you grin shyly, waving with both hands. "leave a comment if you think katie should get mic'd up next."

[Katie laughs before kissing your cheek affectionately, the brunette waving bye with her free hand before the video fades to black.]

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ynln

Liked by victoriapelova and 51,094 others

ynln Watch me go Mic'd Up as I watch Arsenal Women's recent match against Tottenham!

Video is out now on the Arsenal Youtube Channel and the Arsenal Instagram Account!

— view all comments

katie_mccabe11 It's a good one 😉

⤿ bethmead_ We know why you think that 🙄

username petition to get yn mic'd up again, sign here

⤿ username signed

⤿ username signed

⤿ ynln signed

leahwilliamson Alternate title, YN thirsting over Katie for 6 minutes straight 🤢

⤿ katie_mccabe11 Jealous are we, Williamson?

Twitter/X

ynsmccabe that new video arsenal posted of y/n l/n is now my favorite thing

⤿ the clip of her and katie in the hall OMG

⤿ mccardlover no because they literally the only couple ever

⤿ meadema99 leah getting upset over beth cheating in uno after she literally tried to look at y/n's cards 😭😭

username pls the amount of bleeps they had to add to this video because of yn 😭

⤿ username never heard someone curse so many times in 6 minutes

katiespelova oh i need more mic'd up videos with the rest of the team now

username if my relationship isn't like katie's and yn's i don't want it

[stevie-petey]

episode six: the spy

Steve looks like a kicked puppy as you storm ahead of him and Dustin, putting enough distance between you guys so that you can’t hear their conversion that follows.  “Shit…” “You’re awful with women.” Dustin says, now continuing to walk. He doesn’t bother to follow after you, knowing that you need your space to cool down. “I wouldn’t follow her, by the way. Let her cool off.” Steve sighs, now walking as well, “Yeah, I know.” 

Summary: dustin and steve haggle a butcher, you throw some meat at steve and then have a weird conversation about love, you stop dustin from becoming an incel, and then you wrestle some demodogs like any real woman would. side note: steve is hot protecting the kids.

Rating: general, violence and swearing

Warnings: fem!reader, use of y/n, violence and swearing, blood mention and ptsd mention, weapons, fire, probably more

Words: 17.1k (i fear how much longer these next few chapters become)

Before you swing in: its here !!! god, this chapter was ROUGH. the conversations between bug and steve took many rewrites and editing. i wanted to get it just right, and finally i think im satisfied with where they landed. bug and steve aside, i absolutely loved writing this chapter with the kids. i sincerely hope you guys enjoy, this chapter took blood, sweat, n tears lmao

-

You’re the first to break the silence as you all stare at the hole Dart created in the wall in shock.

An obnoxiously loud yawn escapes your lips, and Dustin and Steve shoot you simultaneous weird glances. You feel your face heat up in embarrassment. “Sorry… It’s been a long day.”

Steve huffs. “Yeah, no kidding.”

Dustin clears his throat before standing up. He wipes off some dirt that got on his jeans and then offers you his hand so that he can pull you up as well. You accept it and stand, your bones a deep, weary type of heavy that only comes from pure exhaustion. 

“Okay,” Dustin begins, and you can already see a plan forming in his mind. “Steve, you’ll spend the night here so that way we can all get up bright and early to start our search for Dart.” 

Steve attempts to argue, but Dustin puts his hand up to shush him and continues with his speech. The older boy throws his hands up in the air and gives you a look of disbelief over your brother’s antics. You stifle a laugh, which he only rolls his eyes at. Steve, whether he likes it or not, will have to get used to Dustin’s… Dustin-ness.

“If he escaped through the tunnel, then we have to assume that there’s an opening somewhere above ground.” Dustin finishes. 

You nod your head slowly, still unconvinced. “Okay, but how do we find him? Better yet, what happens when we do? It took Nancy with a shotgun, my knives, Steve’s batting skills, a ton of fire, and almost dying a bunch of times to take down the Demogorgon.” 

Dustin lets out a tired sigh. “I’ll figure it all out, alright? For now, let’s just get some sleep. Maybe it’ll come to me in a dream or something.” 

“A dream? Seriously?” Steve looks at the two of you as if you guys will start laughing and tell him it’s all a giant joke. Unfortunately, it isn’t. 

Steve spent all last year and most of the summer getting to know you. He’s used to your quips and soft spoken teasing, but Dustin? He’s uncharted territory and you’re secretly relishing in seeing Steve fumble around him. You’ve never had anyone else interact with your brother before, only Jonathan, so this change is odd, but welcomed. 

Dustin pays no attention to you and Steve as he begins heading up the steps, back to your home. Once he disappears, you nudge your shoulder against Steve’s. “You know you don’t actually have to spend the night, right?”

“Ya know, I can’t quite tell if the kid will let me leave or not.”

You laugh. “He’s harmless… Mostly. I promise I won’t let him bite, but I also understand if you want to leave.”

Steve looks away, sensing the undertones of what you’re saying. You’re giving him another out, one last chance to leave and go back to pretending like everything's okay. You wouldn’t blame him, and you get a sense of deja-vu from that night at Jonathan’s. When you tried coaxing Steve to leave, to spare himself from everything he inevitably ended up suffering from. 

After a minute or so, Steve shakes his head. “I’ll stay. You need my help.”

“Well, I wouldn’t say need–”

“Shut up and let me help you, Y/N.”

You sigh. There’s no arguing with him, he’s made up his mind and your truce that you shook on ten minutes ago burns your hand. He’s staying. 

“A ‘please’ would’ve sufficed, but fine.” You link your arm around Steve’s and make your way up the cellar steps. “C’mon, Dustin is probably waiting for us with some new insane plan for where you’ll sleep.”

– 

You know that your mom is safe, off at the other side of town, searching for your dead cat, but it’s still lonely walking into your empty home. Dustin is standing in the living room waiting, but you can see that it makes him uneasy as well. 

Steve follows behind you and takes a look around. When he spots the lumpy, old, sagging couch in front of the window, he frowns. It’s barely bigger than he is, his feet would definitely hang over the edge. “This my bed for tonight?”

“It’ll have to be, unless you want to come snuggle with me in my bed.” Dustin says. 

“I wouldn’t, he kicks in his sleep,” you tell Steve, attempting to make light of the situation. 

“That doesn’t surprise me,” he snorts. Then, as if he’s done this a million times before, Steve flings himself onto your couch and his feet do indeed hang over the edge. “Oh, yeah. This will definitely be cozy.”

You wince. “I’m sorry, you’re still free to go home. I completely understand and–”

“Unless…” Dustin begins to brighten up and he wiggles his eyebrows at you. Pure horror washes over you; you know that look on his face. He’s scheming. 

“Dustin, whatever is about to come out of your mouth–”

“Y/N has this giant bean bag in her room. Practically takes up the whole space, and, luckily for you, my new friend, it’s Steve-sized.”

Steve whips his head to face you, a curious look on his face. “You don’t say, Little Henderson?”

Both boys look at you, a matching glint of evil in their eyes, and you realize you’re trapped. When did they manage to sync up to make you miserable?

You weigh your options against your morals. On one hand, it’s your room and you and Steve are still warming back up to each other. However, on the other hand, Jonathan has spent countless nights on that bean bag himself. 

Dustin’s right. Steve would fit perfectly. 

Damn him. 

You shuffle your feet, averting Steve’s eyes. “I mean, I guess you’d fit.” 

“You guess? Steve, she’s had Jonathan sleep on that thing like a bajillion times.” Dustin waves his arms out, gleeful that he’s won. “In fact, I think our mom specifically bought it just for him.”

He now steps closer to Steve and eyes him up and down. “I’d bet money that you two are about the same size, so as I stated earlier: it’s Steve-sized.”

“I’m actually taller than him, so…” Steve mumbles to no one in particular, but quickly clears his throat and changes the subject. “And I’d finally be able to see Y/N Henderson’s room? Count me in.”

You blush furiously. He’s getting a kick out of all of this and he’s such a little shit, honestly. You’re not sure why the thought of having Steve Harrington in your room, eager to be in your room, makes your stomach flutter and your cheeks burn painfully. 

Steve sees your blush and he wiggles his eyebrows at you. “C’mon, Y/N. It’ll be like a sleepover.”

“You’re far too pleased about all of this.”

“We can pretend to be back at Bookstrordinary. I’ll even stack some books that you definitely have in your room.”

Dustin stands between you and Steve, his face alight with joy and curiosity. “Can I please know when you two became best friends?”

“No, you hid Dart from me.”

“I’m not gonna live that down, am I?”

“Nope.”

Steve clears his throat, clearly amused by your banter with Dustin but still unsure about everything going on. “So… What do ya say, Y/N?”

You bite your lip and look at him. He’s pathetically too large for the couch, it wouldn’t be fair to just force him to sleep there because of the weird way he makes you feel as if you’re floating yet falling all at the same time. 

Exhaling, you give in. “Fine, but do not touch any of my books in the room.”

“Yes!” Steve high fives Dustin and you roll your eyes at them both. 

“Yeah, yeah. Whatever. It’s late, can we please just go to bed now?”

Dustin sends you a wink, which thankfully Steve doesn’t see. “Sure, sis. Have a good night.”

And with that, probably because he senses you’re about to throw a shoe at him, Dustin flees the living room and runs to his room. As soon as he’s gone, Steve bats his eyelashes at you and playfully teases, “Take me to bed, Y/N.”

You snort, despite how exhausted you are. “Never say those words to me again.”

He laughs and stands up, following behind you as you guide him towards your own room. A part of you feels like you should give him a house tour, but logistically it’d be useless. You can’t imagine that Steve would be over at your house again once the Dart situation is handled. 

You have to remind yourself that there are still roses for Nancy, currently wilting, in the backseat of Steve’s car. 

They’ll work things out eventually, or maybe they won’t, but Nancy Wheeler still has Steve Harrington’s heart. He is her’s entirely. 

Lost in thought, you almost miss the turn to your room and have to grab the back of Steve’s jacket and yank him towards your bedroom door. 

“Hey–” 

“Sorry, my room is here.” 

“You Hendersons are just a delightful bunch, ya know that?” 

“Be thankful you don’t have to meet our mother, honestly.” You fling your bedroom door open and gently push Steve inside. 

As soon as he’s in your room, you watch as he takes it all in. His eyes scan every corner of the room, and you hold your breath as you wait for them to land on the Spider-Man poster he gave you for Christmas last year. 

When Steve sees it, he smiles shyly at you. “I see you kept the gift.”

“Duh,” you walk over to your bed and sit down. “Still one of the best gifts I’ve ever been given.”

“One of?” He asks, tone light but curious. 

Unconsciously, your fingers go to your bee necklace from Jonathan. You play with the pendant and smile softly. “Sorry, Jonathan kinda beat you to it.”

“I figured,” he shrugs, shoving his hands in his pockets, uncomfortable. “I noticed the necklace the day I gave you the poster. Didn’t want to, uh, assume. I guess. But the necklace was from him?”

“It was,” you clear your throat, talking about Jonathan with Steve has always been such a foreign feeling for you. 

Steve seems to be thinking the same thing and starts to wander around your room instead. You silently thank whatever god is up there for giving you the motivation to clean your room earlier that week. Normally you’re a neat person, but ever since Will started showing signs of post-traumatic stress, you’ve spent more time obsessively researching rather than tidying up.

Therefore, there’s still books strewn across your desk alongside some comics. Steve sees a Spidey one and holds it up with a laugh. “He’s everywhere.”

“He is.” You say proudly, now getting up to go into your closet to pull out the blankets and pillows usually reserved for Jonathan.

Steve wanders around some more as you dig through your closet. He lingers in front of your dresser, which holds photos of you, Dustin, and Jonathan. 

“Here,” you hand the bedding to Steve and motion to where the bean bag is. 

He looks up from a photo of you and Jonathan from last year. It’s your favorite of the two of you, he stands behind you in the picture with his arms wrapped around your waist and his chin on your shoulder. You’re both smiling widely at the camera, the moment captured by Will because he wanted to try out the camera Jonathan had gotten that summer. 

“You guys are really close, huh?” Steve asks.

You nod, although confused by his question. He spent half the summer with you and Jonathan at your job. You had conversations about your friendship together, but you suppose it’s different seeing the excess of love you have for the boy within your room. Jonathan is everywhere, if you look hard enough, you’ll find him. 

Steve pauses for a second, as if he wants to say something else, but shakes his head and turns towards the bean bag. He arranges the pillows so that they’re flush against the wall facing your bed, which you think is an odd choice, but say nothing. Once he’s arranged the pillows and blankets, Steve turns to you and clears his throat. 

“I hate to ask this, I really do, but I also don’t want to sleep in these jeans,” he waves his hands over his pants, which have always been a bit tighter than you thought was necessary. “Any chance I could wear something of Jonathan’s?”

You think for a moment and dig through your dresser. “I’m not sure, but if I can’t find anything of his then I think my old camp t-shirt can fit. As for pants, won’t your boxers work fine?”

Steve’s face turns red and he clears his throat once more, speaking in a slightly squeaky voice, “Y–yeah, I guess so.”

He’s stumbling over his words, which makes you pause. There’s no possible way that he’s nervous right now. He’s usually so confident and comfortable around you. Hell, last summer he offered to be your first kiss (by kissing his fingers and pressing them against your lips, but still). 

“Are you shy right now, Steve?”

“What? No!” He scrambles to the other side of the room, putting as much distance between the two of you as he can. 

You raise your eyebrows at him, but your cheeks are flushed as well. “Okay then, whatever you say.” 

It’s painfully quiet after that as you continue looking for something for Steve to wear. You swear that Jonathan has left behind some of his things, and right before you lose hope, you spot a pair of gray sweats and an old The Clash t-shirt of his. 

“Here,” you toss the clothes to Steve without even checking if he’s looking. You hear a crash and know that he, in fact, had not been looking. 

“Gee, thanks.” He says sarcastically, but you giggle. 

“No problem,” you begin to gather your own pajamas before pointing towards your door. “There’s a bathroom to the left, down the hall. You can change there.” 

“Then our sleepover can commence?”

You wave him off, but you smile anyway at his question. You missed his boyish charms. “Sure, buddy. Go change.”

Steve salutes you and then leaves the room, softly closing the door behind him. You change while he’s gone and tie your hair up. After a few minutes, you assume Steve has had enough time to change and make your way over to the bathroom so you can brush your teeth. You’re so excited to go to bed. 

However, the door is closed when you approach, meaning Steve is still changing. You knock on the door, “Are you almost done in there?”

“I’m having… problems.” 

Your hand hovers over the door, mid knock. “Problems?”

There’s only silence for a moment, almost as if Steve is contemplating elaborating. Finally, after several seconds, he says “I’m definitely taller than Byers.” 

You roll your eyes and begin knocking again, just to annoy Steve, until he finally swings the door open. Before you can even stop it, a loud laugh escapes you. The sweats are at least five inches too short on him, while Jonathan’s shirt is a size too small. He looks absolutely ridiculous. 

“It’s not funny!” Steve whines, his face once again red. “I thought you gave me Jonathan’s clothes, Y/N!” 

More laughter escapes you, making your ribs begin to hurt. Every time you try to speak, you laugh even harder, and it’s impossible for you to get any words out. Steve watches, not amused in the slightest, and crosses his arms as if to appear more dignified. 

“I’m sorry,” you manage to gasp out, more laughs threatening to spill from you. “I guess they’re clothes from when he was fourteen.”

“I’m reconsidering our truce from earlier.” 

This gets you to stop laughing, and you gasp and smack Steve’s chest. “You wouldn’t dare!”

He sighs, hanging his head low. “No, I wouldn’t.”

“Exactly,” his admission makes you giddy. “Now, either make yourself cozy in the bean bag or watch as I brush my teeth. Your choice.”

Steve shrugs and steps to the side so that there’s room for you to enter the bathroom. It’s a tight fit, but he ends up sitting on the edge of the tub and just watches as you begin the process of brushing your teeth. “I didn’t actually think you’d stay, ya know.”

“I know, but I’m bored and you’re here.”

You spit into the sink. “Fair, I guess.”

“Plus,” he picks at his nails, trying to look disinterested while wearing Jonathan’s too small clothes. “We still need to have that talk.”

You pause, toothbrush hanging from your lips as you stare at Steve, wide eyed, in the mirror. Honestly, you were hoping he would’ve forgotten about that. It’s not that you don’t want to know whatever he has to tell you, but you’re tired and still reeling over the fact that he’s spending the entire night in your room. 

“Oh, right.” Turning the faucet off, you finish brushing your teeth and awkwardly wipe your face. Steve watches quietly, and once you’re done, you motion for him to follow you back towards your room. 

As soon as you’re back in your room, Steve immediately curls himself upon the bean bag and brings the blanket all the way up to his chin. Dustin, as always, is right: the bean bag truly is Steve-sized. “Cozy.”

You laugh at him as you crawl into your own bed. “Yeah, I’d hope so. Jonathan has slept in it for years now.”

“Well, uh. Speaking of Jonathan…” Steve sits up a bit so that he can properly look at you. “I wanted to talk. Ya know… About you and him. Nancy, too.”

He pauses, furrows his brows, and then adds. “Actually, I want to talk about what really happened this summer. Everything. I want to know everything.”

“Everything is a lot,” you dodge, turning away from the boy. 

Steve sighs. “Y/N… I missed you.”

Missed.

“I want to be friends again, be how we were before, but… I don’t know. There was a lot unsaid between us. Even from the start. I mean, I understand. I do.” His eyes never leave yours, despite how much you try not to look back at him. “You’re, well–If we’re going to be friends again, I want to start from the beginning.”

“The beginning?”

Now Steve is the one who looks away. “I don’t know, it’s stupid, I guess–”

“It’s not stupid, Steve.” You reassure him. He’s trying, he’s inviting you in after everything you did to him, and it’s all you could’ve asked for. 

But you’re fucking terrified. 

You and Steve became close before, sure, but it was something more surface level. An act between the two of you. While Steve was able to read you over time, learning and asking and paying attention to you, there was still so much you never let him in on. What you haven’t let anyone in on, besides Jonathan. 

If you start from the beginning with Steve, someone you know has come to view you as this selfless and kind person, you’re scared that it’ll change the way he sees you. 

But Steve is looking at you from the bean bag, looking ridiculously cozy with the blanket wrapped around him and his usually carefully curated hair has fallen in his eyes; his gaze is open and trusting. There isn’t a pressure behind it, he would understand if you backed down, but you promised him you’d try. 

To try is to be human.

And you really, really missed Steve. 

“I moved here when I was twelve. My family and I had moved all the way from Virginia after the divorce. I remember being really mean, back then. An angry kid with all this hurt within her that she perpetually displaced upon everyone else.” 

“Angry?” Steve asks, his voice soft. 

You shift uncomfortably in bed, but you remind yourself that you agreed to this. If you’re going to begin again with Steve, then he deserves to know the true person he’s befriending. “Angry. I didn’t take the divorce well. At all. I acted out a lot, closed myself off, and was just a fucking awful person.”

Shifting again, you take a deep breath. “My anger got to the point where Dustin, who was nine, had to practically plead with me to be nicer to him. He was a kid.”

“So were you,” Steve gently chimes in, but you roll your eyes at him. 

“Being a kid didn’t give me an excuse to abandon my loved ones like I did. Like my father did. It wasn’t until Dustin called me out on my bullshit that I realized the irony of the situation. There I was, blaming everyone else for my own problems and running away, because I was so hurt by my father doing the same to me.”

Steve clenches his jaw, and you know he wants to say more, but you watch as he exhales deeply and decides against it. “Okay, so you were mean and then you became kind again after something traumatic… So what?”

“I’m sorry?”

“I mean,” the boy sighs. “I was a dick for like, ten consecutive years. It took losing a fight to Jonathan, embarrassing myself in front of Nancy at least five times, losing my bullshit ‘friends’ Tommy and Carol, and some blonde guy with a fucking mullet before I was even able to become a decent person.” 

You frown. “What’s your point?” 

“My point is that you came back.” Steve shrugs. “The second someone you loved asked you to, you came back to being the selfless angel that you are. Which, by the way, is an impressive feat in itself.” 

He says this as if it’s obvious and that the months you spent hurting everyone around you can be redeemed. As if you haven’t spent every waking hour tirelessly devoting every piece of yourself to those around you to make up for them. To repent for your anger. 

Steve takes your silence as more defiance, and he runs a tired hand through his hair. He’s merely a few feet from you, at the foot of your bed on the bean bag, and yet it feels as if he’s inches yet yards away. “I know I can’t change your mind, but… I think that’s what matters the most in the end, ya know? You became kind.” 

“So did you,” you finally say, not quite ready to accept what he’s saying. 

Now it’s Steve who looks away. “Still working on the whole ‘kind’ thing.”

“Isn’t that what matters in the end?” You tease, feeling yourself warm with pride when you get him to laugh. 

“Touche.” 

Silence falls over the two of you, letting the tension lazily slip away for now. Your body hums with energy; the only other person you’ve told about your father to is Jonathan. You both have long since bonded over shitty father figures. However, even when you had whispered these truths to Jonathan back when you were thirteen, you don’t remember feeling quite so raw and vulnerable as you do right now with Steve. 

“I meant it, you know,” you catch Steve’s eye. “Back when you first drove me home last year. You’re alright. Not too shabby, honestly.”

This time a full body laugh cascades through the boy, He clutches at his stomach as he doubles over, breathless with joy. “Thanks, Y/N.” 

Steve is still laughing and this is the happiest you think you’ve seen him in months. The realization makes all the warmth you’ve felt earlier, vanish. You remember the hurt on his face earlier this week on Halloween, the tears in his eyes when he confessed that Nancy didn’t love him. 

You know how plagued Steve is about never being good enough, and for the first time since you’ve truly gotten to know him: you understand him in that very moment. 

Your eye catches on Steve’s adam’s apple as he swallows. It’s a tragedy, really, how attractive he is. You suppose it’s what caused his downfall, in the end. A pretty boy, rich and popular yet easily able to be taken down; it must be a lonely life with all that vulnerability.

“Can I tell you a secret?” You whisper, voice cutting through the darkness of your room as Steve seems to remember where he is, why and how the conversation started in the first place. 

“Always,”

“I’m scared of the compulsive need I feel to take care of everyone. It’s like… I don’t know, this debt that I feel I owe for existing, for the fear I feel because of my father leaving. I overcompensate for this fear now, terrified I’ll become mean again.”

Steve stares at your ceiling. “The whole ‘debt’ thing, I understand. Believe me. Rather than being a perfect angel, however, I just try my fucking hardest not to disappoint everyone around me and make them leave.”

Nancy, as she always seems to do, lingers between you and Steve now; you both can feel her presence without him having to say her name. He told you what she did to him, you tried to reassure him that it hadn’t been his fault, but Steve isn’t an idiot. 

Nancy never loved him. He knows this, now. 

You don’t say anything, you don’t think he’d want you to. Giving him some time, you allow Steve a few minutes to collect his thoughts, sensing he has more to say. Then, softly, he whispers back to you, “Can I tell you a secret?”

“Always,” you echo. 

“I just want to be loved.” 

With just one confession, a string of six words in succession, Steve Harrington crushes you. 

The words come crashing upon your chest and you wish you could tell him how easily you see yourself falling for him. How, even if you can’t admit it just yet, you’re already falling for him. You think you have been for some time now. 

Somewhere, in between him driving you home last year and the way the summer sun kissed his face months later, you began to fall in love with him. 

While you’re thinking this, Steve is laying in the bean bag, absolutely terrified of the words that have come out of his mouth. He’s always had the fear, deep down, that he was unlovable, but to admit the fear out loud… He’s never felt so weak before.

You’re silent and Steve thinks he’s finally done it. His pathetic need to be liked and loved by everyone around him has finally scared you away. How couldn’t it scare you away? You so naturally are loved by everyone while Steve compulsively demands it because he’s still that scared ten year old boy with a father who never showed him love. 

Then, because you’re an angel, you give Steve the response he hadn’t even known he needed to hear. “It’s natural to want to be loved. We all do. It’s human.”

He exhales at your words, still staring at the ceiling as if to somehow lessen the impact of what you’re telling him. There’s something there, hanging in the air after your words have disappeared, that Steve can’t quite understand. 

It almost sounded like you were trying to reassure yourself, as well.

“What’s the deal with you and Jonathan?” Though Steve’s voice is steady, you can tell that he’s trying not to sound too interested. 

The question is a simple one, but it’s the hardest question you’ve ever had to answer. Everyone asks you, sooner or later, if you and Jonathan are together. You never blame them for asking, because ultimately the two of you are  closer than the average friends, regardless of gender. 

It doesn’t make the question any less painful to answer, though. It doesn’t make hearing Jonathan’s laugh cut any less deeper.

As for Steve, he’s asked this question before, albeit with teasing and disbelief whenever you’ve told him there’s nothing there. Despite the numerous times you’ve corrected him, he’s never quite believed you.

This time, it feels different. There’s a weight behind Steve’s question, and your silence is all the answer that he needs. “You love him.”

The words aren’t a question, and they harbor no malice. He says them as if they are a fact; you suppose that it is. You don’t say anything, but you do nod your head at him. “I do… I think I’ve always loved him, honestly.”

You’ve never, ever said those words out loud. Not to anyone.

And now, you’re confessing them to Steve, who doesn’t have to ask you why your voice now holds melancholy within it. He knows, he’s always somehow known. Jonathan doesn’t love you, a fact in which Steve has never been able to wrap his head around. He’s watched the two of you for years, how easily you love one another, and yet somehow the love never blossomed into something more. 

Everything stills between you and Steve, allowing both your confessions to surround the two of you. “I’m sorry.”

Steve’s apology only causes you to shrug. “He’s still mine, at least for now. Is that so bad?”

“I mean, I guess not, but… Doesn’t it get exhausting?”

“God,” you squeeze your eyes shut, finally able to voice all you’ve been feeling to someone who can understand. “It feels like this crushing weight upon me every time I see him smile, like it’s a burden, carrying all this love within me without being able to express it freely. I just… I never thought that love could be so exhausting. ”

As the words start to come out, you find that you’re unable to stop. “I grew up with Jonathan, I learned the way he breathes and the way his hands feel pressed against my skin, but so much has changed and…” Your breath hitches. “He’s not someone I reach out to first anymore. It almost feels like I can’t. I love him, I do, but I also miss how it used to be before I realized everything.”

The pressure of tears builds behind your eyes and forces you to stop talking. If you say anything else, you’re afraid you’ll start crying. While Steve has been so lovely tonight, it wouldn’t be fair to ask him to console you so pathetically. 

Steve seems to hear the tears lacing your voice and speaks for you, having finally pieced together everything he’s been unable to articulate since November of last year. “With Nance, it feels like I’m always somehow two steps behind her and her feelings. Constantly playing catch up while the rules keep changing on me… I get the whole ‘love is exhausting’ thing.”

Though you know Steve means well, his words fucking terrify you. If he feels the same way towards Nancy, a girl who never ended up loving him despite how much he poured his heart out for her, what does that mean for you and Jonathan?

For the first time, you question if the exhaustion you feel surrounding your love for the boy is really something else. Something different, disguised as exhaustion. 

You wonder, deep down, if you’ve started to fall out of love with Jonathan.

Who are you if you have?

The boy has become so intertwined within your life, the threads and strings and lines have tied you to him indefinitely. He’s the reason behind your everything. If you no longer love Jonathan, then who are you, really?

The realization washes over you like cold rain in the middle of winter. It spills over you and pricks at your skin and you suddenly want the conversation to end. While you’re so relieved to be talking to Steve again, the conversation has left you with more realizations than resolutions. 

“It’s late,” you fake a yawn, desperate to cut the conversation short. “We should go to bed. Knowing Dustin, he’ll have us up at the crack of dawn to start looking for Dart.”

Steve sees right through you, he knows he’s somehow crossed a line and that you’re once again retreating. You’re closing yourself off from him again, but he’ll take whatever he can get from you. You’ve told him more than he ever thought you would, so for now he’ll play along. 

“Goodnight, Y/N.” He says, watching as you reach for your lamp and turn the light off. Then, as soon as you’ve rolled over and closed your eyes, you faintly hear his final words. “Don’t we make a pathetic pair?” 

You remember, before drifting off to sleep, feeling relief wash over you that Steve once again considers the two of you a pair.

– 

You wake up the next morning to the faint sounds of Dustin getting ready. His shower can be heard from your room, and through the years it's become your morning alarm. Yawning, you roll over and rub your eyes and take a few minutes to let your brain wake up. 

Bits of yesterday’s events come back to you. 

Dustin confessing about Dart. 

Locking the Demodog in your cellar. 

Radioing everyone in the party for help and getting no response. 

Going to the Wheelers for Mike and coming back with Steve. 

Dart going missing. 

And, most importantly, your bizarre conversation with Steve last night. 

The boy in question lets out a loud snore from the bean bag, blankets haphazardly twisted around his legs, and you stifle a laugh. Even in his sleep, Steve Harrington somehow catches all the attention in the room.  

You throw your blanket off and get out of bed, tiptoeing so as to not wake up the sleeping beauty, and head outside to your kitchen. If yesterday was any indication of how long today will be, then you need all the coffee in the world to get through it. 

The coffee has just finished brewing when you hear Steve stumble into the kitchen. His eyes are bleary and his hair is the worst it’s ever looked. “I guess even Steve ‘The Hair’ Harrington can’t escape bed head, huh?”

Steve acknowledges your quip only by grunting, still stumbling around through your home. So he isn’t a morning person, you think with a smile while bringing your coffee mug to your lips and taking a careful sip. 

Eventually Steve makes it to your kitchen table and plops down, letting out a loud yawn and smacking his lips. He looks pathetically endearing, really, especially given his outfit that looks even worse after sleeping in it. The shirt has ridden further up, exposing a bit of his stomach (which you divert your gaze from, feeling yourself blush), and one of his too-short pant legs has ridden up to his knee. 

“You really are a natural beauty in the morning, Steve.” 

“Ha,” he says boredly, looking around the kitchen. “Do you guys have any food? I’m starving.” 

You toss him an apple from the fruit basket on the counter, and Steve only just manages to catch it in time to avoid it hitting his face.

“Christ!” He exclaims, glaring at you when you chuckle at his reaction. Maybe it was a little mean, but you see the small smile he tries to hide. 

“Is this all I get? An apple thrown at my face?”

You walk over to the table and set your mug down. “Were you expecting a home cooked meal?” 

“You’ll have to earn a Y/N Henderson breakfast,” Dustin says as he enters the kitchen and joins the two of you. His hair is still wet from his shower and he drips onto the counter, which makes you cringe. He’s such a boy, sometimes. 

He makes his way over to the fridge and rustles around, looking for something to eat. Truthfully, the reason you threw the apple at Steve is because there’s no food in your house at the moment. Your mom normally goes to the grocery store on Saturdays, and in her frantic rush to find Mews she hadn't left any money for you to go to the store. 

“There’s no food,” you inform your brother. 

He sighs dejectedly, grabbing a banana and then plopping himself next to Steve at the table. “All right, are you two awake enough to discuss the plan?” 

You nod immediately at Dustin’s question while Steve slumps further into his seat, groaning. You run a hand through his hair to try and settle down his theatrics. Dustin sees this and raises an eyebrow at you, but you shake your head and motion for him to keep quiet. 

“So,” he takes a bite from his banana and begins speaking with his mouth full, which you make a face at. “I was thinking we lure Dart with bait to a secure area that we can catch him in.” 

“Wait,” Steve sits up a bit in his seat, careful to not knock your hand off his head. “That’s all you got? That’s the entire plan?”

“Yes. Is there a problem?” 

“Oh, I don’t know,” he begins eating as well, his mouth also full and disgusting to look at, “Do you know how we’ll lure him? Or where? Better yet, how will we even catch him?” 

Dustin narrows his eyes. “Okay, so it’s a working idea. You got anything better?”

Steve opens his mouth to speak, but nothing comes out. He pauses for a second before seemingly drawing a blank and closing his mouth; he sinks back into his seat in defeat.

“That’s what I thought.” Dustin says smugly.

You take another sip of coffee, enjoying the mug’s warmth around your fingers. “Well, we at least know what Dart likes to eat.”

“We do?” Steve questions, looking up at you.

“Oh, just wait until you hear this,” you motion over to Dustin. “Go on, tell Steve what you’ve been feeding Dart.”

Now it’s your brother’s turn to sink into his seat, embarrassed. He mumbles something that Steve can’t quite hear.

“What?”

He mumbles again, only a tiny bit louder this time.

“Little Henderson, I can’t understand you.” Steve says, smirking when he feels you laugh against him. 

“I said he eats Musketeers Bars!” Dustin shouts, now incredibly defensive. 

In sync, you and Steve share a look. While you have an exasperated fondness on your face, Steve looks like he’s questioning every choice he’s made in his life. It’s cute that he thinks this is the weirdest things will get.

“Okay…” Steve looks over at your brother. “Unless you plan on buying out an entire candy store, we need something else for bait.”

In the corner of your eye you see Mews’ cat bed laying against the window, and an idea pops into your head. “Dustin, did Dart only eat the candy bars before he killed our cat?”

“Yeah, why?” 

As you walk over to the kitchen sink to place your mug in it, you begin explaining. “Then clearly he’s outgrown his sugar needs and would probably eat just about anything with flesh on it.”

Steve wrinkles his face with displeasure, not enjoying the thought of going after this monster that craves meat. He’s already done that, and call him crazy, but he really doesn’t want to experience anything like that ever again. 

Dustin’s eyes light up, following along with what you’re saying. “Raw meat! You’re a genius, Y/N!” 

“And then we can follow the train tracks to that old junkyard, the one that El brought you guys to last year. It’s a straight shot, Dart won’t get lost, and then we catch him.”

Dustin squeals. “That’s perfect!”

He stands up to hug you, which you gladly accept. “Yeah, yeah. We Hendersons are known for our genius,” you gently push your brother away and start exiting the kitchen. “I’m going to go shower and get ready. Steve, you’ll take Dustin to the butcher and see if you can haggle some raw meat out of him.” 

“Uh… can I change first?” He asks, running a hand through his hair with displeasure. 

Only now does Dustin notice Steve’s appearance and he lets out a loud cackle. “Oh, I think you look great!”

You shoot your brother a warning look, not wanting to upset Steve too much. He’s the only one with a car, and the party still hasn’t responded to Dustin’s calls, so he’s all you have right now. Plus, after last night’s conversation, you’re sure he’s feeling just as wound up and tense as you are. 

“We can swing by your place on our way to the train tracks. Your house is right next to it, anyways, and Dustin and I can scout the parameters while you shower and get yourself all pretty. For now, just go to the butcher's shop, please.” 

“But–” 

“Please, Steve?” You pout, daring him to argue with you again. Steve is only able to stand his ground for about five seconds before he groans and nods his head.

“Fine–” You quickly hug him before running towards the bathroom to get ready. 

Once you’re gone, Steve searches for his keys while Dustin stands in the kitchen, shocked. “I so need to know when you two became such good pals.”

“Go wait by the car, Little Henderson.” Steve waves him off, though he’s secretly pleased with how the morning is turning out so far.

–

“C’mon, man. It’s just chunks of raw meat, it doesn’t even matter what, uh, body parts they are, I guess.” Steve argues with the butcher, having no idea why you’ve sent him on this journey with Dustin. Neither of them have any idea about butchers and meat, so they’ve been arguing back and forth for a solid ten minutes with the guy. 

“And I already told you, it’ll be $15. Take it or leave it, pretty boy.” Pat, the butcher, says. 

Steve scowles at the name, “That’s insane for five pounds, you realize that? It’s just a bunch of meat chunks from god knows where, it’s not like we want prime rib you dirty sack of–” 

Dustin cuts him off, snatching the boy’s wallet from his back pocket and pulling out a twenty. “Ignore him, please! Here, thank you so much for your lovely service, good sir.”

Pat narrows his eyes at the boy, and for a split second Dustin is afraid that he’s trying to figure out the best way to skin them alive, before he simply grunts and takes the money. 

Relief washes over Dustin and he scrambles to grab the bags of meat, tugging at Steve’s sleeve in urgence until he gives in and begins to help as well. Within a few seconds, they’ve gathered all they need and head towards the car. 

“Keep the change!” Dustin calls out behind him. 

As soon as they’re in the car, he yells at Steve to step on it. It’s already been twenty minutes since they left the house, and he knows from experience to never keep you waiting. 

“Okay, okay, god.” Steve complies, pushing down on the gas and speeding away from the butcher’s shop. 

The smell of raw meat immediately infiltrates the car, so Steve rolls down the windows and sighs. This is definitely not the weekend he had in mind. He thought he’d apologize to Nancy, kiss and hopefully make up, and maybe even swing by your place to tell you the good news. 

Instead, he has buckets of raw meat in his car and his head is swimming from his conversation with you from last night. While he’s happy it happened, there’s still so much Steve feels like you aren’t telling him. To top it all off, he hadn’t been able to sleep in his own bed, but rather a bean bag that Jonathan apparently has slept in a million times before. 

As Steve is moping, he realizes that there actually wasn’t even a real need to spend the night. 

“Hey, Little Henderson,” Steve gently hits Dustin’s shoulder to get his attention. “Why did I have to spend the night at your place?” 

“Oh, you didn’t.” Dustin says as if it’s no big deal.

Steve turns his head towards him, “I’m sorry, what?”

“Yeah, I didn’t think you’d actually spend the night if we’re being honest. I just thought it’d be funny to mess with you.” 

“I tried arguing with you, but you shushed me!” Steve exclaims, putting both hands back on the steering wheel aggressively. 

The younger boy shrugs, “What are you, seventeen? Eighteen? Why would you listen to a thirteen year old?” 

“Well, I–” As much as he wants to, Steve really can’t defend himself on this one. Shit. It’s not like he can tell Dustin that he mostly stayed because his sister is pretty and makes him feel safe.

Dustin smiles, happy to have won the conversation at hand, and decides to really rub it in as they pull up to the house. “I also thought it’d be hilarious to pair you up with my sister. Hope you two made smart choices last night.”

And with those words, Dustin springs out the car, leaving a speechless Steve behind. He turns the car off and sits there for a moment, completely at a loss for words. He’s only spent a total of sixteen hours with the kid, and already he knows he’s in for a world more of trouble. 

If you’re Hawkins’ sweetheart, then Dustin is the town’s horribly terrifying weasel. 

Meanwhile, you’ve just finished lacing up your shoes when Dustin walks in.

“Where are the rubber gloves that mom likes?” He asks in lieu of greeting you. 

“In the closet, second shelf, next to her cat figurines. Where’s Steve?”

Dustin rustles around the closet and pulls out three sets of gloves, “In the car, moping.” 

There’s a crash and then he tosses two buckets onto the carpet. You crouch down and grab the buckets, placing them on the table. “Why is he moping?”

“Why is who moping?” The man in question walks in, throwing himself on the couch and narrowly dodging the third bucket that Dustin throws out. “Why do you guys keep throwing shit at me, jesus!” 

“Language! There’s kids around,” You snap your fingers at Steve, who quickly cowers in shame. “And if it makes any difference, the bucket wasn’t intentional. The rest were, though.” 

Just as Dustin is finishing up in the closet, you spot a can of gasoline and an idea sparks in your head. If you learned anything at Jonathan’s house last year, it’s that these Demogorgon things really hate fire. “Hey, grab the gasoline as well.”

He does as he’s told, no questions asked, and then hands it to you. You add it to the pile on the table, along with two backpacks from your brother and your beloved switchblade. 

Steve gets up from the couch to investigate your stash, nodding approvingly. “Not bad, guys. What are we going to put in the backpacks, though?” 

Dustin goes into the kitchen and begins grabbing the few items within it. The remaining fruits in the basket, a few pieces of bread, a bag of chips, and some water bottles. “One bag will have our food, the other will have our weapons.” 

And with that, you guys are all set to head out. While Dustin is distracted with grabbing his backpack, you run towards Steve’s car and throw yourself into the passenger seat. Every man for himself. 

“What– Y/N!” He calls after you, but he’s too late. You’ve already buckled yourself up by the time he and Steve get into the car themselves. 

“She beat ya, buddy.” Steve teases, flashing you a proud smile. 

Dustin grumbles in the backseat, unamused, and for a moment you think he’ll leave it at that. However, because he’s Dustin, you see from the rearview mirror as his eyes spark with revenge. “So, Steve.”

The tone in his voice terrifies you. 

You place your head in your hands and sigh, mentally preparing for whatever your brother is about to say. 

“Yes, Dustin?”

“How long have you been friendly with my sister?”

“Dustin!” You whip your head around, lunging towards the back seat to swat at the boy, but he quickly scoots over to Steve’s side and avoids your hands. 

Steve, however, surprises you by simply shrugging and taking the question in stride. There’s no embarrassment on his face, no ounce of hesitation in his voice. “About a year now.”

“A year?” Dustin exclaims, having completely not expected such a response. “Y/N, how could you keep this from me?”

“She didn’t hide anything from you, buddy.” Steve defends you, eyes focused on the road. “I convinced her to be my friend after I saved her life–”

“You saved her life?”

“And then bought you boys snacks at the hospital afterwards. Then, because I really wanted to be her friend, I basically stalked her at work every day and annoyed my way into her life. We’ve been pretty close ever since.”

Dustin’s jaw is practically on the ground after Steve’s quick explanation, left speechless for the first time in his life. As for you, you’re admiring the way the early morning sun causes Steve to glow. You’ll never be over how often his beauty distracts you; you wonder how Nancy, or really anyone, could deny him love.

If you didn’t know Steve, if you passed by him on the street one day as complete strangers, you’re sure that a part of you would fall in love with him. 

Even with pieces of his hair standing all over the place, his shirt still being too small, he was a delicate kind of handsome that made you feel a certain warmth.

“Did I forget anything, Y/N?” Steve’s voice breaks you from your thoughts, and you quickly divert your eyes away from the way his arms look while holding the steering wheel. 

“No, uh.” You clear your throat, still recovering. Steve seems to be in good spirits for once, it’s a breath of fresh air seeing him so content, and yet it also serves as a stark reminder that you made the right choice when you first distanced yourself from him. He’s just too easy to love. “I think you pretty much covered everything. Unless Dustin has any questions?”

“Give me three to five business days to process this, please.” Your brother mumbles from the backseat, which you and Steve laugh at. 

The rest of the ride is relatively peaceful after that, and a few minutes later you arrive at Steve’s house. It’s different in the daylight, only ever having seen it late one night driving the boy home from the Halloween party. 

It’s a beautiful home, the smell of chlorine fills your nose. The pool, you remember Nancy mentioning his pool when she explained what happened to Barb. You shiver, now aware that you’re in the same place that your friend took her last breaths at, just a year ago. 

“The tracks are just over on the other side of the street, and I shouldn’t be too long, so you Hendersons can start figuring out the plan in the meantime.” Steve instructs you and Dustin, getting out of the car and entering his house. 

Dustin begins getting out as well, so you unbuckle your seatbelt and follow. Thankfully you decided to wear jeans today with a simple tank top and cardigan with your knit socks; though it was late October, it’s unusually sunny outside and the walk from Steve’s to the junkyard was easily four to five miles. 

The two of you walk over to the tracks and you survey the area. You’re not sure what exactly you’re looking for, but you figure it’s best to look focused in case Dustin yells at you. 

“We’ll need to go that way,” Dustin points in front of you, and you nod as you follow along. “We can drop the meat chunks every few sleepers so we don’t waste any of it.” 

“Sleepers?”

“These.” Dustin’s shoe scrapes against the bottom wooden planks. 

“You would know what they’re called.”

“Ha ha, any more quips or can I continue?”

You put your hands up in surrender and Dustin begins to speak again.

“Then once we get to the junkyard, we can dump whatever meat is left in a pile and put the gasoline on it. Once Dart is distracted and eating, we’ll light it on fire.” His words catch a bit at the end, and you suddenly feel bad for him. He clearly still cares about Dart, but you know your brother understands the risks of letting the Demodog live. 

Without saying anything, you reach over and pull Dustin in for a hug. He fights it at first, but after a couple seconds he gives in and hugs you back. You aren’t the most affectionate pair of siblings, but you love your younger brother fiercely. Not for the first time, you wish you could’ve done more to prevent him from discovering the Upside Down. 

You know it’s irrational to blame yourself and feel guilty, but maybe if you’d been more involved last year, then maybe he wouldn’t have so many nightmares. 

“I’m sorry about Dart,” you say softly against his hat. 

Dustin breaks away, shrugging his shoulders. “Gotta protect the party, right?”

“Right.” You flick his hat. “C’mon, let’s go back to the car and start putting the meat in the buckets.” 

True to his word, Steve is ready to go after about twenty minutes. He walks out of his house, freshly clean and put together, right as you and Dustin finish preparing the bait. He approaches from behind you, and you can smell his cologne. Memories from when he’d have his arms around you and you’d smell the familiar scent now wash over you. 

Clearing your throat, you turn to hand him gloves and a bucket, but almost drop it when you see him. 

He looks good. Like, frustratingly good. His hair is back in its usual style, but he’s wearing a dark blue polo and a gray jacket that fits him criminally well. You almost feel underdressed standing next to him with your ratty old cardigan, which you know is ridiculous to be concerned about. Plus, you’ve always known that Steve was attractive, so it’s stupid to be affected by it suddenly now. 

You guys had one emotional conversation. 

“Y/N?” 

Steve’s staring at you quizzically, and you quickly snap out of your thoughts and hand him the bucket full of bait and instruct him to put the gloves on. He listens, dutifully putting them on and placing the bucket on the ground and starts searching for one of the backpacks in the trunk. He’s seemingly in a much better mood now, which you’re thankful for. 

“Dustin! This is Lucas. Do you copy? Dustin?” 

Lucas’ voice rings out from Dustin’s walkie, and you perk your head up, relieved that he’s okay. The radio silence from the party was something that unnerved you immensely. With Dart on the loose, Will’s increasing episodes, who knows what else is happening in Hawkins at the moment? 

“Well, well, well, look who it is.” Dustin responds, placing his hands on his hips like a disappointed mother. You chuckle at him and continue helping Steve unload the trunk. 

You hear Lucas sigh into the walkie. “Sorry, man. My stupid sister turned it off.” 

“Tell Erica I say hi!” You call out, knowing Lucas will hear you. He always resented the fact that his sister is so nice to you. You’re the only living person who didn’t receive Erica’s insane insults, which is something you’re very proud of.

“Y/N?”

“Hi, Lucas!” 

Dustin shoos you away and continues to speak. “Well, when you were having sister problems, which really aren’t that hard to handle–” 

“Says you,” you butt in. 

“Dart grew again, he escaped, and I’m pretty sure he’s a baby Demogorgon.” Your brother finishes. By this point, you and Steve have pretty much unpacked everything in the car. 

“Wait, what?” You’d kill to see the look on Lucas’ face right now. 

“I’ll explain later, just meet me, Y/N, and Steve at the old junkyard.” As Dustin wraps up the conversation, Steve shoves his bat into the bag and you watch him with disappointment. He’s trying really hard to make it fit, and you almost pity the boy. Bless him. 

There’s a pause before Lucas asks, “Steve?”

Dustin doesn’t elaborate, instead instructing his friend to bring his binoculars and wrist rocket. You suppose it’s a good idea to add more weapons to your arsenal. Better safe than sorry.

“Steve Harrington?” Lucas asks again, this time even more confused. 

“He’s a friend,” you say, shoving your own weapons into the bag and slinging it over your shoulder. 

Steve closes the trunk and says, “Damn straight I am. Alright, let’s go.”

You follow after him, saying goodbye to Lucas as Dustin tells him to be at the junkyard stat. 

Dustin stashes his walkie in his own bag and then the three of you are off. Your brother and Steve walk a bit ahead of you as you all throw the meat chunks onto the ground, doing as Dustin instructed. It’s slow work, but you’re happy to have some time to yourself while the boys are distracted with each other. Their friendship wasn’t something you’d expect, but you’re incredibly happy about it.

You love the party, you’d do anything for them given all that you’ve been through together. However, as they grow older, you can’t help but notice how much they’re changing. Mike hasn’t been himself since El disappeared, Dustin is now hyper focused on science, Lucas is becoming his own person, and poor Will is just trying to recover from the trauma of last year. 

It’s been hard watching them grow apart, in a way. Nothing will ever be the same after the Upside Down, you know that, but watching the party slowly drift makes you sad for your brother. You’re glad he’s seemingly found someone like Steve to bounce jokes off of and feel appreciated by. You know that someday the kids will all come together again, it’d be impossible not to with how strong of a connection they all have, so you try not to worry too much.

You shove the thoughts down, you need to keep focused on Dart and contacting the rest of the party. So, you dutifully place the bait down and follow behind the boys and feel the time pass by. After about an hour of nonsensical conversation between Steve and Dustin, you hear the older boy finally ask the question of why your brother even hid Dart in the first place. 

“It’s complicated, okay?” Dustin defects, clearly uncomfortable with the change in conversation.

You keep your distance from them, but you keep an ear out just in case you need to intervene. 

“You claim you wanted to get famous off of it or whatever,” Steve drops meat onto the tracks and kicks his foot. “Call me crazy, but you don’t hide something that supposedly makes you famous.” 

He has a point, and Dustin scrunches his face up. He casts a glance your way and you do your best to appear distracted by the job at hand. You know Dustin’s guilty face well, so whatever he’s about to tell Steve will be good. When Dustin shuffles closer to Steve and lowers his voice, you get closer as well so you can listen.

You’re his older sister. It’s your damn job to be nosy.

“It was for this girl.” 

Simultaneously you and Steve react. He hums in approval, almost proud, while you scoff. “I knew it.”

Dustin turns around, horrified. “You knew?”

“Duh, you’re awful at hiding things from me. After Max was just conveniently outside the AV room when Dart originally escaped, I pieced it together immediately. Also, side note: you’re too young to be impressing girls. I told you to just be yourself, dummy.”

Steve lets out a snort. “Pretty ironic coming from you, Y/N.”

Suddenly you feel uncomfortable with his attention on you.

“I’m sorry?” Your voice is steady, but you can feel your hands shaking as you continue throwing the bait. 

“Ya know, your massive crush on Jonathan ever since you were twelve.” He laughs, as if it’s the funniest joke in the world. 

Dustin clears his throat aggressively, pointing to your hands. Steve sees the way that they shake, the tension you now carry in your shoulders, and he’s become familiar enough with you to know your anger cues. The teasing smile that had been on his face drops. He runs towards you so he’s now by your side, and Dustin sighs in disappointment. 

“I didn’t, like, mean anything by that, you know. I–uh, I was kidding, Y/N.” Steve tries to catch your gaze, but you pointedly stare straight ahead and clench your jaw. He’s stumbling over both his words and the tracks beneath his feet, trying desperately to appease you. “Shit, I’m sorry.”

“You’re an asshole, Steve Harrington.” 

“Y/N, please, I said I was sorry–”

You finally face him, grabbing his elbow to ensure he doesn’t move. “I told you that stuff about Jonathan in confidence. You don’t get to throw it back in my face, joking or not.” 

It doesn’t help that you’re already confused enough as it is about the boy and your feelings towards him. To have Steve tease you about it, especially because he knows how painful jabs about Nancy are… It really fucking hurts. 

Steve looks like a kicked puppy as you storm ahead of him and Dustin, putting enough distance between you guys so that you can’t hear their conversion that follows. 

“Shit…”

“You’re awful with women.” Dustin says, now continuing to walk. He doesn’t bother to follow after you, knowing that you need your space to cool down. “I wouldn’t follow her, by the way. Let her cool off.”

Steve sighs, now walking as well, “Yeah, I know.” 

They walk in silence for a little while, Steve hanging his head in shame and Dustin leading the way, frustrated by being stuck with two overly emotional teens. 

After a while the silence eats at Steve, so he decides to continue the conversation from earlier. “So, this girl… is she someone you’ve known a while?” 

Dustin shakes his head, “No, she’s new at our school. She’s super cool, though.”

“I remember back when I based my attraction to girls on their coolness.” Steve mumbles. 

“And look where basing it off their hotness has gotten you.” 

“Ouch,” Steve rubs at his chest, wounded.

Dustin laughs and flings some bait at him. “I thought that if I showed her Dart, she’d think I was cool, too, and like me.”

Steve sidesteps the thrown bait and tries to comprehend what the younger boy is saying. “So, you kept something that you knew was probably dangerous in order to impress a girl who… you just met?”

“Alright, that’s grossly oversimplifying things. And anyways, who are you to give me girl advice? My sister is literally three hundred feet ahead of us because you pissed her off with one singular sentence.” Then, almost as if as an afterthought, Dustin adds, “congrats, by the way. I’ve never seen someone piss her off so quickly.” 

“Look, this isn’t about me, okay? Sure, I messed up with Y/N, but it isn’t like I was hitting on her to begin with,” Dustin makes a disgusted face as Steve quickly continues, panicked. “So she doesn’t count. I just feel like you’re trying way too hard, man.” 

“Well, not everyone can have your perfect hair, alright?” Dustin grumbles. 

Steve shakes his head, slightly amused by the boy’s antics. He’s so much like you, and yet so different, and Steve is realizing it’ll take a lot to keep up with the kid. “It’s not about the hair, dude. Chicks dig more than just a good hairstyle.” 

“You’re literally known as Steve ‘The Hair’ Harrington.”

“Hey, ‘King Steve’ is also there.” 

Dustin flings even more bait at Steve, now annoyed with him. “Whatever man, it’s not like you’d be any help anyways.” 

“Oh really? Well, Little Henderson, I’m about to blow your mind: the key to girls is just acting like you don’t care.”

“Even if you do?”

“Yeah, exactly.” Steve now brightens up, happy to finally be getting through to the boy. For Steve, he’s long since learned that the best way to avoid getting hurt is to pretend that he doesn’t care. “It drives them nuts.”

“Then what?” 

“You just wait,” Steve looks ahead, watching you and feeling like a complete dick. He really hadn’t meant to hurt you, hell the two of you were finally starting to get somewhere and yet… Steve fucked it up. As always. 

He can see that your shoulders are still tensed up, you’re walking faster than you need to be. He feels a heavy weight in his stomach, one that he’s never felt before; he doesn’t like it. “You wait… until you feel it.”

Dustin furrows his brows. “Feel what?”

Steve tears his gaze away from you and turns back to Dustin, beginning to explain the electricity between someone you’re interested in. Being the geek that he is, Dustin turns it into a scientific discussion and Steve does his best to steer the conversation back. 

“No, like sexual electricity.” He explains.

As soon as the words leave Steve’s lips, you whip around and shout, “Are you seriously talking to my little brother about sexual electricity?”

Both Dustin and Steve freeze in place, dumbfounded. You let out a loud groan and continue stomping away, now even more aggressively throwing the chunks at the train tracks. 

“How did she even hear me?” Steve whispers, terrified. 

“I don’t know,” Your brother whispers back, also equally frightened. “Sometimes I think she has powers like El.”

Once you’re a safe enough distance away from them, Dustin hesitantly brings the girl conversation back up. “Hypothetically, what do girls like?”

Steve takes a second to answer, carefully rolling the question around in his mind. “It depends on the girl. Some girls want you to be aggressive, ya know? Go in for the kiss, make them feel protected. Strong, hot and heavy. Like a lion.” 

Dustin hums to indicate he’s following along, but ‘like a lion’ has him a little worried about the reliability of the conversation. He knows that Steve is a lady’s man, but he’s also never seen him with any girl besides Nancy, and the one time he saw him with you, he had immediately pissed you off. 

So for all Dustin knows, it could be lies. 

Steve continues his confusing explanation. “But others? You gotta be slow, you gotta be stealthy… like a ninja!”

“Okay, what type is Nancy?” Dustin asks, hoping to get the teen to stop making stupid analogies. Lions, ninjas… maybe it was all lies. 

The question catches Steve off guard and he stumbles a bit, feeling the familiar sense of protectiveness, insecurity, over the girl as well as a new sense of loss. What type is Nancy? If he had been asked this a week ago, Steve would’ve told Dustin that she’s a nice girl, a girl he could happily bring home to his parents and proudly wrap around his arms. Now? He’s not so sure. 

Not when he can still see the anger and disgust in Nancy’s eyes that night at the party. 

“Nancy’s different,” he recalls his conversation with you from last night, how he’d confessed to always feeling two steps behind the girl and how exhausting it all is. “She’s just different. Let’s move on to the next question.” 

Dustin notices Steve’s change in demeanor but doesn’t say anything. He supposes that you and him have a lot in common, then. “Okay, what type would you say Y/N is?”

Once again Steve isn’t expecting the question Dustin asks. “What–” he trips over a twig and just barely manages to catch himself. “Why would you ask me that? She’s your sister, and I don’t even like her–”

“Relax, Romeo. She’s just similar to Nancy and the girl I like, and I figured you’d know Y/N well enough by now considering you guys slept together–”

“I slept on her bean bag–”

“And have been friends for like, a year. Plus, she’s in love with Jonathan, you’re in love with Nancy, and coincidentally they’re in love with each other. Figures that there’s some type intermingling between the four of you.”

How the hell does everyone know about Nancy and Jonathan? Steve thinks bitterly. 

He’s silent for multiple seconds, absolutely at a loss for what to say. He doesn’t know where to begin or what to even deny. Technically the boy is right, as much as it hurts Steve to admit. He’s all but lost Nancy to Jonathan, and you’ve lost Jonathan to Nancy. 

In an extremely messed up way, you and Nancy do have the same type. On top of that, both you and Nancy are close to Jonathan, so it’s safe to assume there’s similarities to the both of you that Steve doesn’t even want to touch on right now.

Even more importantly, Steve has yet to really decipher why your presence alone can make or break his entire day. Why, after months of not talking, it now feels like he’s finally come home again with you back in his life. 

He looks at you again, still angrily throwing your bait, and he supposes that you’re a lot like Nancy in certain aspects, and yet completely different from her. “Y/N is also different, I guess. She’s incredibly intelligent both emotionally and academically. Isn’t she like the top of her class?”

Dustin nods, proud of the Henderson intelligence, and Steve continues. 

“Right. I’d say she’s like Nancy, except she’s softer?” Steve cringes at his own words, suddenly uncomfortable with comparing the two of you. In his mind, you’re both your own separate entities that infatuate him in different ways. 

You both burn Steve; Nancy is like a shot of whiskey, the thrill that follows the burn. But you? You’re a fireplace after hours of being out in the cold, the burn of it warming his bones.

“Y/N is just… she’s special, but everyone knows that. Your sister is the most caring person I’ve ever met, and I know I’m a lucky son of a bitch to be someone she trusts.” 

Dustin snorts. “Yeah you are.”

Up ahead, you finally slow down and face the boys, now waiting for them to catch up and call out, “C’mon, ladies! The sun sets soon, I don’t want Lucas waiting in the cold all alone.” 

“Looks like I’ve been forgiven.” Steve says, relief evident in his voice, something that your brother doesn’t miss.

Dustin lets out another loud snort, patting him on the chest, “Oh, my sister may be forgiving, but she never forgets.” With that, he walks away to catch up with you. 

“Well, isn’t that ominous.” 

You greet the boys with a tired smile, knowing there’s no use holding resentment towards Steve. He couldn’t have known about your mixed feelings towards Jonathan, you know he had only been trying to get along with Dustin. 

Things are still weird between you two, despite the conversation from last night, but it’s hard to stay mad at Steve and honestly, you don’t really want to be mad at him. It’s been so lovely having him around again, and your own confusing feelings can wait. 

Steve leans in close to you, gently grabbing at your hand so that you don’t walk away. “Hey, we okay?”

His eyes are full of concern and his voice is sickly sweet like honey. With the honey, the remaining bits of anger vanishes. “Of course we’re okay.”

Steve exhales deeply and you giggle at him before remembering that Dustin is quite literally a few feet away from you two. Coughing, you hold up your bucket to point out how it’s almost empty. “I guess in my rage, I flung more than I intended. How are your buckets holding up?” 

The two boys hold their buckets up, giving you a mock solute to indicate that all is good. You laugh, impressed by how synched they’ve become in such a short time. 

“Alright, then. Let’s get going.” As you all begin to walk in line again, you ask, “What were you guys even talking about, anyways?” 

The boys glance at each other in a conspiring way, which causes you to roll your eyes. They’re acting like you asked for their deepest and darkest secrets. They seem to have a silent conversation for a couple seconds before Steve finally speaks up. 

“I was just giving Little Henderson some girl advice. Nothing serious.” 

You raise your eyebrows, your heart swelling a bit at the idea of Steve giving your brother advice. It’s sweet, really. “Girl advice, huh?”

“Yeah, why do you sound so skeptical?” 

“Because you’re terrible with girls.” 

Dustin now butts in, “He told me to be aggressive.” 

“I did not!”

“He also said that you’re softer than Nancy.”

You make a face. “Thank you? I think?”

Steve tugs at his hair in frustration. “You two are the worst people I’ve ever met. You know that, right?” 

In unison, you and Dustin reply, “We get that a lot.” 

Steve stares at the two of you with slight horror in his eyes. “Yeah, alright. I’m out.” 

You grab at his sleeve, gently stopping him from storming away. You give him an apologetic look and pull him close so that your chest bumps against his. “You’ve gotta get used to the Henderson humor, Steve.”

He looks surprised by your tugging at his sleeve before he lets a smile cross his face. He doesn’t do anything else, but he also doesn’t back away, either, and you find yourself blushing a bit under his gaze. 

You clear your throat and let go of his sleeve, stepping back a bit. “Anyways, why don’t you tell me what wise advice you have for my brother.” 

The smile that was just on Steve’s face vanishes as he looks away from you. “I was just telling the kid to not fall in love with his little crush. He’s too young for heartbreak and all that other shit.” 

“I’m not in love with her!” Dustin exclaims in disgust, but you’re too distracted by Steve’s words to assure your brother that you believe him. 

“Well, I believe that love is something beautiful.” You say, your words only meeting Steve’s turned back. He doesn’t acknowledge you, but you know his indifference holds no malice. He’s still hurting, still in love with Nancy Wheeler. “Dustin, you may be too young to be in love, but don’t listen to Steve. To love and be loved is the luckiest thing we can ever do, regardless of how it ends.” 

Dustin blanches at your words, grossed out now. “Okay, okay, stop! Love is gross. I get it.” 

You softly mumble sorry to him, now suddenly remembering that he’s only thirteen. When you were his age, the idea of love also grossed you out. Now, love is a concept that you’ve found a comforting warmth in, even if it's burned you a few times and has left you more exhausted than exhilarated. One day he’ll understand (in the far off future, hopefully). 

For now, you flick your brother’s hat and follow after Steve, finishing the rest of the bait journey in silence. 

– 

By the time the three of you get to the junkyard, it’s already about midday. 

It’s different from how you imagined it, filled with old cars and a giant school bus. It’s more open, too, not as “junkyard” as you assumed. 

You, Steve, and Dustin stand at the top of the hill, surveying the area. Your feet ache from the walk and the sun is hurting your eyes. Seeing you squinting, Steve wordlessly hands you his signature Raybans and motions for you to put them on. 

“Oh, yeah. Yeah, this will do. It’ll do just fine,” He says, satisfied as he begins to walk down the hill. Then, as an afterthought, he says to Dustin, “Good call, dude.”

Dustin beams with pride and you fill with so much happiness, seeing the boy getting along so well with Steve, that you almost regret not having them meet sooner. However, there’s no time to wallow in what-if’s and you put Steve’s sunglasses on to follow after the boys. 

Immediately you and Steve get to work, working seamlessly together side by side, months of him joining you in Bookstrordinary finally being put to use. While you and Steve silently scatter more meat and grab supplies, Dustin surveys the area.

Just as you’ve dumped the remaining meat in the middle of the field, you hear Lucas’ voice call from a few yards away, “I said medium well!”

The boy is with Max, who looks slightly displeased, yet curious, to be here. Despite her still obvious hesitation, you still feel excited seeing the girl. You’ve been meaning to talk more to her, she seems like such a lovely girl. 

“Who’s that?” Steve asks you.

“Max! She’s great, and–” You start gushing about the girl, eager to go and say hi, before you see the crestfallen look on Dustin’s face when he realizes why she’s with Lucas. You remember, then, the weird tug-of-war between the boys over her. Shit. 

You grab at Steve’s hand and pull him aside. “Actually, Steve, why don’t we start finding some panels to cover the bus?”

Steve gives you a questioning look, but when you silently motion towards Dustin and he sees his despair as well, he catches on and just nods, following along. Without having to tell him, he understands that you want to leave Dustin alone so he can talk to Lucas. 

As always, you’re forever thankful that he can read you so well. 

After guiding Steve away, you and him begin to prep the junkyard alongside Max. While the boys are talking, you take this as an opportunity to get to know the girl better. 

“So,” you begin, helping Max carry a large piece of wood over to the bus. “I see you’re back again.”

“Looks like it,” she shrugs, not really feeling like talking. Seems like she’s still mad at you for yesterday, taking Lucas’ side over hers. 

You sigh. “Well, I’m glad you’re here.”

“That’s a first.” Again she deflects, but you know she’s doing it out of hurt rather than maliciousness. 

“I know you don’t really like me right now, which I totally understand, I just wanted to let you know that while I don’t like that you’ve been dragged into this mess, I’m happy you’re here.”

Max frowns at you. “You guys act like I’m going to like, die or something.”

A scrap of metal that you’d been carrying slips from your hands. Steve hears this and comes rushing over to help, but you gently wave him away and focus on Max. “I don’t know what Lucas told you, but it’s all true. It’s dangerous, being here, and I just… If you ever get hurt, any of you kids, then it’d be on me and I’d never forgive myself.”

“Way to be a buzzkill, Y/N.” Steve nudges you, trying to get you to smile before your ever-present guilt bears down upon you. 

Max bites her lip, still disbelieving, but she recognizes the pained look of protectiveness on your face. It’s not something that someone can easily fake, and from what she’s heard about you, your kindness is one of the few genuine things in Hawkins. 

Before she can say anything else, Steve lets out a huff and grabs a chair to bang on the car that Lucas and Dustin are talking behind. “Hey! Dickheads! How come it’s only Y/N and some random girl helping me?”

“Language!” You chastise. 

Steve sends you a thumbs up, not really listening. “We lose light in forty minutes. Let’s go!”

Dustin and Lucas reluctantly start helping, both calling Steve an asshole and throwing him dirty looks, which you can’t help but laugh at. 

Lucas sees you laughing and points at you. “Are you the reason Harrington is here?”

“Mhm,” you respond, nailing another piece of wood to the bus. “He’s done more to help than you have, so either pick up some metal and help or go sit in a corner and sulk. Up to you.”

Steve high fives you. “Yeah! What she said!”

Lucas’ shoulders sag, completely at a loss as to how any of this has happened. “This is so weird.”

“Dude, I’ve spent all day with them. Imagine how I feel,” Dustin groans. “I think I died a little when I found out they’ve been friends for like, a year.”

“A year?” Lucas gasps. 

“Guys!” You throw pebbles at the two boys to break up their little gossip session. “One, I’m incredibly hurt you two didn’t think I had any friends besides Jonathan. Two, start helping before I throw more rocks.”

“Yes ma’am,” both boys grumble in unison, which Max finds pretty impressive. 

After that, the five of you get to work. You guys use every item available in the junkyard to secure the bus, hoping that with enough stacked against it, you’ll be safe from Dart once he’s lured. Barrels are rolled, more sheets of metal are placed against the bus, and within the next hour or so you’ve successfully managed to build a decent base. 

All that’s left is to pour the gasoline trail, which you help Steve with as the kids watch from inside the bus. 

“I’m getting major deja-vu right now,” you mumble as Steve pours. 

“Gasoline at Jonathan’s?” 

“Mhm. God, he wouldn’t believe what we’re doing right now.” You know he would’ve loved this bizarre interaction. You, Steve, and the kids all in a junkyard trying to lure a baby Demogorgon. 

You’ve definitely had better babysitting days, and Jonathan would have a field day with this one. 

Once you’re done with the gasoline, you and Steve return to the bus. He waits behind you, making sure you’re securely in the car, before he heaves the old bus door closed. As soon as the door is closed, you and Steve exhale together.

You share a look, both in silent agreement to keep the kids safe no matter what. It’s your guys’ job to keep them safe, to fight for and protect them. 

Deja-vu again. You’re back in Jonathan’s house, holding a switchblade while Steve wields his bat. 

“Ready?” He asks you, extending his hand out for you to grab. 

You interlock your fingers through his. “When am I ever?”

Steve laughs, dispelling away any remaining uncertainty and fear. You know, that no matter what, that he’ll be by your side to help. With this in mind, you join the kids further into the bus. 

Lucas climbs the ladder up to the top, something you’re not fully okay with, but he’s the one with the binoculars and you the switchblade, so it makes the most sense. As the boy climbs, you sit down next to Steve as he flicks his lighter on and off. You’re pressed shoulder to shoulder, his presence grounding you.

Dustin paces, and all you can do is watch him as you try to settle your own nerves. Max has seated herself at the other end of the bus, her arms crossed as usual. 

After a few moments of silence, she finally speaks. “So, you really fought one of these things before?”

Steve nods and you hum in agreement. “Unfortunately.”

“And you’re, like, totally, 100% sure it wasn’t a bear?”

“I mean, to be fair I also had that same thought last year–”

Dustin cuts you off. “Shit, don’t be an idiot, okay? It wasn’t a bear.”

You roughly grab at your brother, yanking him towards you to shut him up. “Dustin–”

“Why are you even here if you don’t believe us?” He sneers at Max, something you’ve never, ever seen your sweet brother do. “Just go home.”

Max clenches her jaw and you send her an apologetic look, but she rolls her eyes at you. “Geesh, someone’s cranky. Past your bedtime?” 

“Max, wait–” She ignores you and climbs up the ladder to join Lucas. You groan once she’s gone, now more than ever wanting to strangle your brother. “Dustin, what the hell was that?”

“That was good, Y/N!” Steve says, a proud smirk on his face. “He showed her he didn’t care, just like I told him to.”

“Oh, so it’s your fault my sweet, innocent baby brother is now some woman hating misogynistic piece of–”

“I don’t hate women, Y/N.” Dustin tiredly says, before directing his next words to Steve. “And I don’t care.”

Steve winks at the boy, but immediately flinches back when you raise your hand to smack him. “Yeah, cower away, you idiotic and moronic–”

“Y/N, stop overreacting and Steve, stop winking at me.”

You raise your eyebrows at Dustin’s tone and he quickly clears his throat and steps away from you. Steve puts some distance between you two as well, scooting away a bit so that he’s out of hitting range. 

It’s quiet again, both boys now scared of your anger, and you anxiously wait for Dart to show up. 

Steve goes back to flicking the lighter, Dustin paces again, and you tap your foot nervously. The silence is killing you, it’s always been your least favorite part of the Upside Down. The waiting, hoping you’re prepared for when all hell inevitably breaks loose. 

You flick your own blades out, admiring the way the blades catch in the moonlight, when you hear a loud growl come from outside. Instinctively you raise your blades to your face while Steve and Dusin scramble to peek through the metal sheets to look out the window. 

“You guys see him?” Dustin asks as he crouches next to you. 

You shake your head. “No,”

There’s nothing outside, only a thick haze of fog that has settled over the junkyard. 

“Lucas, what’s going on?” Your brother calls up to his friend.

“Hold on!” The boy responds. 

Your heart begins to beat faster, your blades never straying away from your face, poised for a fight. Steve sees the way your knuckles whiten over your weapon and he grabs your spare hand, gently coaxing you to calm down. 

Your fingers tighten around Steve’s and you remember his words from last night, promising you that he’ll be there, and you believe him. 

From the bus’ roof, you hear Lucas call down, “I’ve got eyes! Ten o’clock–ten o’clock!”

There, in the haze of fog, you see a hunched figure stalk its way towards the bus. Seeing Dart, you’re filled with complete dread. He’s grown again, much bigger than you’ve ever seen him.

He’s practically the size of the Demogorgon from last year, the same one that almost killed you and Steve. 

“What’s he doing?” Dustin asks, as if anyone else would have any more information than he does. 

“I don’t know,” Steve sighs, his eyes never leaving Dart. 

You squeeze his hand again and hold your breath as you watch the Demodog. He slowly approaches the bait, inspects the area, but he doesn’t seem to be interested in it. You send a silent prayer to whatever god is above that your plan will work. 

It has to work. 

However, Dart starts to back away from the bait and Steve leans even closer to the window. “He’s not taking the bait. Why isn’t he taking the bait?”

“I don’t know,” you want to cry from exhaustion and fear and defeat. 

Dustin looks over at you. “Maybe he’s not hungry?”

Something seems to click, then, for Steve. His eyes light up with an idea, and before he can even get his words out, you grasp at Steve’s arm and try to talk him out of it. “No, absolutely not. You’re not going out there.”

“Maybe he’s sick of cow.” Steve tries to make you let go of him, but you quickly tighten your hold on him and fight back. “Y/N, let me go, I can run fast and–”

“You can’t just use yourself as bait!” You plead, but Steve has always been stronger than you and he drags you behind him as he makes his way towards the bus door. “Steve, listen to me!”

“Steve? Steve!” Dustin finally catches on to what’s happening and he grabs at the teen as well. “What are you doing?”

Steve ignores you both and with a quick jerk of his arm, he frees himself from you. As soon as you’ve let go, he runs towards the door and snatches his bat from the ground. You curse, knowing there’s no way in hell he’s going out there alone, so you follow after him. 

Dustin sees this and panics. “Y/N, please don’t tell me you’re going–”

“Stay put!” You command, scrambling after Steve, who has now begun to open the door. He tosses you the lighter, which you toss to your brother. “Just get ready, Dustin!”

“Y/N!”

“I love you!”

Dustin continues to shout, his pleas laced with more fear than you’ve ever heard from him, but you force yourself to leave. Just as you’ve stepped outside and re-closed the bus door, Dustin pounds against the glass that you’ve locked, tears in his eyes.

You look away, despite how fucking hard it is, and it takes everythin within you to leave. 

Steve saved your life last year. 

Now it’s your turn. 

It’s tense outside as you and Steve walk back to back, weapons out. He twirls his bat a few times, a move that you find yourself smiling at due to its familiarity. With your back against his, you whisper to Steve, “You look for Dart, I keep an eye for anything else?”

He nods, and together the two of you slowly follow the sound of Dart’s chittering. 

“C’mon buddy,” Steve taunts, beginning to whistle. 

“I know we named it a Demodog, but I don’t think whistling will help.”

“We could be about to die, and you’re seriously questioning what I’m doing?”

You shrug, eyes now on the skyline as the fog slowly thickens. “Habit.”

Steve chuckles, which brings some comfort to the fucking awful situation at hand. He whistles some more, continuing to taunt Dart. “C’mon. Dinner time.”

“Again with offering Dart meals while we’re near him,” you shake your head, not at all liking where any of this is going.

“What? At least human tastes better than cat.” Steve responds, now at the pile of raw meat.

You both stop here, Steve facing the bait and you facing the bus, still scanning for literally anything else that could possibly go wrong. Because you’re Y/N Henderson and nothing can ever, ever go right for you. 

Dart lets out another growl, now having spotted Steve, and the teen swings his bat around. You spare a quick glance behind you and see Dart, who has placed all his focus on you and Steve. 

Well, at least the live bait plan is working. 

You turn away again, and as soon as you do, you see the other Demodogs now suddenly appear. Your blood runs cold when you see the two up ahead, one directly in front of you and one on top of the cars. 

For a moment, your words seem to fail you and no sound comes out when you try to speak. All you can do is stare at them, overcome with fear. You’re back in Jonathan’s once more, the fear strangling you as the memories paralyze you. 

From the top of the bus, Lucas yells, “Steve! Y/N! Watch out!”

“We’re a little busy here!” Steve yells back, eyes still on Dart. 

The Demodog in front of you starts to approach, which finally seems to break you from your spell. Shakily, you tell Steve, “There’s more.”

“What?” He tries to turn around, but you shove at him to not lose sight of Dart. You can’t distract him now. Another Demodog has joined.

“Three o’clock! Right in front of Y/N!” Lucas screams, his voice cracking with fear. 

“Y/N?” Steve fully turns around now when he realizes that you’re also in danger, and when he sees the three other Demodogs, he lets out a curse. “Shit.”

Suddenly, you and Steve are surrounded by Demodogs, more than you ever could’ve imagined. More than the two of you can even fight on your own. 

Back at Jonathan’s, it had taken guns, fire, knives, and bats to kill a grown Demogorgon. 

You don’t think your knives and Steve’s bat will be enough for Demodogs. 

“Steve! Y/N! Abort!” Dustin has flung the bus door open, screeching for the two of you to get out of there. 

It’s too late. Dart has opened his mouth and is running towards you two, his friends joining as well. 

“I go left, you go right!” Steve has just enough time to direct you before Dart lunges. 

You dodge, going right as instructed while Steve flings himself on top of a car to avoid the monsters. As Steve hits Dart with his bat, crouched against the car, you narrowly avoid the other Demodog and drop to the ground as it jumps over your head. “Shit!”

Steve swings his bat again and tries to make his way over to you, but you’re off the ground in a heartbeat and run to him instead. Two of the Demodogs are on him now, and there’s only so much damage his bat can do. Breathless, you run over and stab at their backs, doing everything you can to give Steve an opening to run. 

Faintly, you hear the kids in the background cheering you guys on, urging you two to come home.

One of the Demodogs lets out a harsh screech as your blade pierces its skin. It crumbles to the ground, giving Steve just enough of an opening to begin running towards the bus. When he goes to run, you notice one of the Demodogs eying him, and before you can even process what’s happening, you’re throwing yourself in front of him and you feel nails tear at your ribs.

You scream, clutching at your side in agony, feeling blood quickly beginning to spill from your wound. “Fuck!”

“Y/N!” Steve starts to run toward you, pale with fear. 

“No!” You shove him back towards the bus; you can’t let him get hurt because of you. “Go, I’ll be fine!” 

He tries to argue, but you take a deep breath and grip his jacket tightly, practically flinging him inside the bus just before Dart lunges again. Together, the two of you stumble up the steps and barricade the door. 

As soon as it’s closed, Dart begins slamming against it with his entire body. 

Steve uses his legs to hold the door closed while you lay sprawled on the ground, trying to steady your breathing as more blood spills from you. The room is spinning and you’re pretty sure you can taste blood in your mouth. 

Awesome. Cool. 

The kids are screaming and Dart’s body causes the entire bus to rock as his friends now join, throwing their own bodies against the bus as well.

“Are they rabid or something?” Max screams, but everyone ignores her. 

Steve, quick as ever, finds a spare piece of metal and wedges it against the door and uses his legs again to hold it in place. He looks over at you on the ground and feels his heart jump to his throat. You’re pale, a sheen of sweat now dotted across your forehead, and there’s now a concerningly large pool of blood where you lay. “Dustin, go help your sister!”

Dustin looks up and finally notices your injury and almost faints at the sight. In a daze, he runs over to you and kneels down, terrified of how much blood there is. “Oh my god.”

“I’m fine,” you wince, trying to clench your teeth and bear through the pain. “Honestly, this is like a paper cut.”

“Y/N–” The sound of glass shattering cuts Dustin off as a Demodog breaks through the window. Everyone screams, and your brother grabs your arms and drags you further towards the back of the bus to avoid any glass getting on you. 

Wearily, you watch as Steve does whatever he can with his bat, and a part of you wants to laugh. He looks like he’s playing the hardest game of wack-a-mole ever. 

Meanwhile, Lucas and Max have joined you and Dustin. When they see you, Lucas lets out a choked scream while Max covers her eyes. 

“Are you okay?” Lucas kneels over you as well, and you find his sincerity endearing. He’s always been the sweetest in the group, the most comforting. 

“Never been better,” you wheeze out. 

Dustin instructs Lucas to stay with you while he tries to radio for help. “Is anyone there? Mike? Will? God? Anyone!”

“God would be pretty nice to have.” You remark, pain making you even more delirious than usual. 

Max looks at Lucas. “She’s losing it.”

“I think I’m doing great, all things considered.”

Dustin continues to scream into his walkie for help while Lucas tries to stop your bleeding. Max is running around, looking for anything to help, and Steve is still stuck at the front of the bus playing wack-a-mole with Demodogs. 

The situation is so fucking grim, and you’ve never wanted to laugh more. 

Then, to make matters even worse, the ceiling of the bus starts to creak. You see the faint outlines of what suspiciously looks like Demodog footprints on the roof. In slow, agonizing footsteps, Dart makes his way over to the emergency exit on top.

He leers over, and Max, who is at the bottom of the ladder, screams. 

Steve shoves the kids back and you try to get up, but Lucas pushes you down and shakes his head at you. 

“You want some? Come get this!” Steve places himself between Dart and you and the kids, screaming at the thing and waving his bat around, and you’ve never been more attracted to him.

Dart lets out a blood curdling screech, his mouth full of rows of razor sharp teeth that killed your cat just the other day, and you cling onto Lucas’ hand. Another screech, and just before Dart strikes at Steve, it jumps off the bus and runs away. 

Everyone freezes, unsure what to do, as more distant growls and howls can be heard from outside. Steve and the rest stand up, and you notice Lucas holding Max’s hand, and at least something good came out of this hellhole of a day. 

“Any help here?” You finally ask after a minute or so, still lying helplessly on the ground as you bleed.

“Shit!” Steve drops his bat. “Where did it get you, where’s the bleeding? Dustin, did we pack any bandages, or–or an EMT stretcher or–”

“Steve,” you grab his hand, urging him to calm down. “It scratched the fuck out of my ribcage, but I’m not dying. I promise.”

“You’re not?” Dustin asks, tears in his eyes. 

“I’m not. I just…” you shift, wincing at the pain. “I just really need a bandage and I’ll be good as new.”

Steve swallows, a frenzied look in his eyes, and nods. Without thinking, he tears a piece of your bloodied cardigan off and gently lifts your body up so that he can wrap the shred of cloth around you. He weaves it tight, his movements slow and delicate, his eyes never leave yours. 

You can feel his hands shaking as he tends to your wound and ties the cloth with a knot. When he’s done, even though you’re aware of the kids’ eyes on you two, you bring his hands to your lips and kiss them. “Thank you.”

“Of course,” He whispers, brushing a strand of hair out of your face. Dustin coughs, which seems to make Steve remember where he is, and he clears his throat. “Right, well. Try not to lose any more blood, yeah?”

“I’ll try,” 

Steve nods and stands back up, knowing Dustin and Lucas will want a moment with you, and makes his way back outside. He knows that they’re all still in danger, even if for some reason the Demdogs seem to have left. 

Once Steve is gone, Dustin and Lucas help you stand, and as soon as you’re up, both boys try their best to give you a hug without hurting you. 

“Don’t do that ever again,” Dustin sniffs, squeezing your uninjured side tightly.

“What he said,” Lucas sniffs as well, though he tries to hide his tears from you. 

You laugh, your own tears evident as you hold the boys tight. “I promise.” 

“You saved Steve,” Max notes, though her tone is neutral, you can see she’s impressed.

“I had to even out a debt.” 

“Guys,” Steve calls from outside. “The coast is clear.”

Slowly, you and the kids make your way out of the bus. It takes some help from both Dustin and Lucas, but eventually you’re able to walk on your own, holding your side, and walk down the steps. 

“You okay?” Steve is by your side as soon as you’ve stepped down, holding you so that he’s not touching your cut. You’re thankful for his support, the pain still making you feel woozy. 

“We’ll talk later,” you motion towards the kids, not wanting to worry them any further. 

He nods, although he hates that you feel like you can’t focus on your own safety. 

“What happened?” Lucas asks the group. 

“I don’t know.” Max looks around, and you think she’s finally starting to understand what she’s gotten herself into. 

Dustin points to you and Steve. “Maybe they scared ‘em off?”

“No,” Steve shakes his head. It couldn’t have been that easy. “No way.”

“They’re going somewhere.” You finish for him, confirming your worst fears. Suddenly, more pain shoots through you and you wince again, squeezing your eyes shut. 

Steve bends his head down, guiding you a bit away from the kids so that they won’t hear. “Hey, we don’t have to follow them. We can go home, you know.”

“We can’t.” You clench your jaw as pain rings throughout your body. The goddamn Demodog got you good. “We have to follow. It’s all connected, Will and his episodes, Nancy and Jonathan with the detective, and I’ll be damned if I back down now.”

“So we follow?” Steve asks, trusting whatever call you make.

You nod, knowing you have to do this. While you guys are safe for now, you know that everyone else has to be in danger; you have to protect them. “Unfortunately.” 

-

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[glossykissies]

thinking about what reader i’d pair with soldier boy and it only feels right he gets handed spoiledbrat!reader. bratty, high maintenance, pouty. soldier boy might’ve been a god-like supe with damn near all the power in the world, but at the end of the day he was also a man… and you were packaged to him like a god damn fantasy.

it was so conflicting to him, you were simultaneously everything that got him off in a woman all while challenging his beliefs. feminine, soft, supple, pink and glittering — sure, but also you had the craziest attitude, you swore like a sailor and you were demanding. it made his fists clench, and dick swell.

the first time he’d been introduced to you with the boys, having found yourself wrapped up in their world — you were the only one in the room who he detected not an ounce of fear from. you. the little thing in the corner leaning on her hip, more interested in her nail bed than the banished supe.

immediately, and much to butchers irritation (he was pushed for time, and trying to stay on track here.) soldier boy focused his attention on you, taking a draw of his cigar from the couch in the hide-out apartment.

“and who’s this pretty little poodle? you fellas let a fan tag along?” his voice is smooth and rumbly like wheels on gravel and you raise a perfectly plucked brow.

“please.”

he hums out a chuckle, not hiding the way his eyes drag up and down your body. he was used to just taking what he wanted, his time being one of those things.

“so if we could just—” hughie steps forward cautiously, attempting to regain the supes attention to get things back on track but is immediately silenced by soldiers boy lifting a hand, eyes still on you.

“no really. what’s the deal with strip-club-barbie? i have met all of you cock suckers but she’s new. if she’s not a welcome gift, what the fuck is she doing in here listening in?”

“shes one of us.” butcher gruffs, shuffling in his chair, antsy to start explaining his diabolical plans.

“yeah? what’s her thing? you fellas passin’ her around in whatever fuck-dungeon you hole up in?” he teases, and before anyone can say anything — you’re defending yourself.

“jesus christ, get with the fucking times, old man.”

soldier boy smirks, and a tense silence falls over the room — half expecting to watch you get thrown through the thin walls of the apartment at record breaking speed. surprisingly, after he’d taken an amused and analytical gaze your way — he leisurely turned his attention back to butcher. “alright, out with this plan. don’t have all day.” he drawls, taking another drag. you roll your eyes at the fact he literally has nothing else to do, and you’re sure he notices.

most of your interactions went that way after that. soldier boy would make some kind of demeaning or misogynistic comment, you’d snap back, he’d either be amused or weakly threaten you. it was like clock work, but seem to put everyone on edge every single time.

there were many times the boys thought you were done for, hurling names and insults at him when he’d caused them more harm than good — only to have him stroll right past you, uninterested in your girly tantrum and not even struggling to totally ignore you. sometimes you would irritate him, only to get a “brats like you need to be put in their place. i’m warning you.” and maybe he’d smirk because he could just sense your little clit twitching.

there was even a time all of you had to pile into one car, getting away quickly after a mission gone south. you were the last in, and there were no seats left for you.

“just fuckin’ get in would ya?” billy commanded loudly, trying to keep an eye on the oncoming commotion. soldier boy smirks, completely suited up, damn near taking up two seats in the backseat and pats his thigh, spreading his legs.

“i am not sitting on him. someone get in the trunk.” you argue, crossing your arms all spoilt.

“just grab her!” hughie exasperates from the passenger seat, used to your ways. without hesitation, soldier boy yanks you into the car with ungodly strength, pulling the door shut as they drive off. you wriggle and fight until he’s got you situated — the mountain of a bulge pressed up against your panties beneath your skirt, legs spread a little on his lap.

you give him a sulky look over your shoulder, and despite the chaos in the front of the car — he’s utterly relaxed and unbothered by everything that just unfolded. in fact, he leans back with that same smirk — adjusting his hips, nudging the fat lips of your pussy open through your panties with his bulge. he watches your eyes nearly roll back like a baby-doll.

you turn back to the front, irritated and overstimulated, breathing all heavy and mad. never in all his years has he seen a woman fight against her urges like you were. he puts his hands on your hips and you dig your nails into his skin, sustaining no damage. you scratch harder, tearing and attacking him like a baby kitten and he gazes happily out the window, unmoved.

you try to chime into the conversation up front, try to stay tuned — but everytime butcher carelessly flies over a speed bump you’re being practically forcefully dry fucked by the supe. you’re sure he could even feel you leaving a wet patch — and surprisingly, when you all pile out the vehicle solider boy doesn’t bring it up. the gratification of flustering you enough to keep him happy.

the breaking point comes when you’re appointed to ‘babysit’ him back at the hiding apartment. literally no one else is free, but they need someone there to make sure he’s where he needs to be. there’s nothing you could do to stop him from leaving, but whilst he agreed to stay there — you were sticking around to make sure he keeps his word, strictly told to alert one of the boys if he exits.

“look, i’m sorry. i would take your place but i have to help annie.” hughie stresses apologetically as they walk you up to the building.

“i’ll be fine.” you roll your eyes, more irritated that you were missing your nail appointment for this shit.

“and keep that mouth in check, yeah? i don’t fancy scraping your intestines off the walls so keep a lid on it today.” butcher warns, sending you a look before you run off.

when you walk in, he’s chowing down on a burger. so american.

“well if it isn’t my favourite.” he drawls, more interested in the TV.

“whatever. i’m here to babysit you.” you sark, setting down your purse and rifling through it for your phone charger, spotting the pink wire tangled at the bottom of your bag.

“babysittin’ huh? you certainly had the sitting part down last time i saw you. maybe today we can work on the baby part.” he chuckles at his own joke, bringing the mouth of his beer bottle to his lips.

“shutup. you know i had no choice.” you don’t know why you get so defensive, strutting over to block his view of the television — staring down at the hulk of the man resting with his feet up.

“that why i could feel your little pussy throbbing? beggin’ me to help her out? christ, maybe if you got some dick you’d quit bitching all the time.”

maybe he was right.

it’s how you end up blubbering on your back with the backs of your knees in his huge hands.

“shit, maybe i’ve been missin’ a trick with this young pussy stuff. fuckin’ perfect.” his heavy cock brushes your folds as he stretches your legs up into a humiliating pose, not caring for your sniffles and angry pouts. he pushes your knees up higher with an intrigued smirk. “you’re flexible, huh? what, were you a cheerleader in high school or something?”

“are you gonna fuck me or what?” you whine, so needy and petulant that it makes him smile.

“you modern girls. no patience.” he slaps his cock on your folds and you flinch. “relax. only polite to knock before i enter, right?”

[irb-pascalito-99]

Catch Me If You Can

Pairing: Joel Miller x f!reader

Word Count: 2.4k

Rating: 18+ MDNI

Warnings: Smut, teasing, unprotected p in v, come play

Summary: Joel’s girl can’t stop staring at him while he’s fixing the table they broke.

A/N: This is an excerpt from Chapter Thirteen of my fic Always an Angel, Never a God. To read more of this pairing visit a03.

I lean back and watch the muscles in Joel’s back flex as he drills new bolts into the table. Beads of sweat roll down his arms and create dark patches on his t-shirt. I crawl toward him and kiss his neck as he puts the drill down.

“I think you should do this with your shirt off,” I mumble against his skin.

My hands slide underneath his shirt, trailing up his stomach and chest. Joel chuckles. He leans back slightly to give me better access.

I grab the hem of his t-shirt and pull it over his head. He lifts his arms as I do. Joel allows me a couple more kisses before he starts to work on the table again.

I chew on my bottom lip while I watch him. Joel doesn’t have defined abs or the form of a bodybuilder, but there’s no mistaking he has muscles. His arms and back flex as he picks up another table leg to screw into place.

I offered help when he started, but he wouldn’t allow it. Now, he focuses on the task at hand. His eyebrows crease as he bolts the leg into place. He shakes it firmly to assure it is strong before moving on to the next one. He looks over his shoulder to see me still staring at the definition in his arms and back.

“Careful now, I’ll start thinkin’ you only want me for my body,” he jokes with a wink in my direction.

“I like you for more than your body,” I lean back against a nearby wall while Joel searches for the bolts for the next leg.

“Oh really, like what?” He asks. I roll my eyes at his obvious attempt for compliments, but happily play into it.

“Well, turns out you’re good at making furniture,” I joke. He laughs and shakes his head before screwing in the next bolts.

I could think of a million reasons why I like Joel. He’s unbelievably generous. He’s smart, but he doesn’t rub your face in it. He’s amazing with Sarah, and so understanding with Ellie. He’s the kind of man who fucks you so hard against a table it breaks, and then spends the next afternoon putting it back together again. When he pauses with the drill again I continue with an honest answer to his question.

“You make me feel safe,” I say. He puts the drill down and turns his full attention to me. “I don’t have to pretend to be anyone else. I can fall apart a little around you. You make me feel safe.”

I keep my eyes on the ground. I don’t want to see Joel’s reaction to my statement. I don’t want to know if it’s too much too soon. We sit in silence until he picks up the drill again.

“You make me feel safe too,” He says. I lift my eyes from the floor. He fumbles with the screws in his hands. “I’ve been focused on Sarah for so long. It’s nice to be able to let go a little sometimes, have somethin’ for myself you know?”

My heart flutters at the notion of being something he holds for himself, that I could be as important to him as he is to me. I know Joel loves deeply, and Sarah will always be the biggest thing in his life, but I hadn’t thought of how lonely it must have been for him over these last several years.

Obviously Sarah’s mom leaving had left a hole in their family, but Joel lost more than a co-parent. He lost a partner, a wife. He’s never talked about her in a romantic sense. He hasn’t mentioned her at all since the hospital. I haven’t wanted to push him into opening up, but something about this conversation feels different. It feels as though he’s offering me something here.

“Did you have that with Annie?” I ask. Joel’s shoulders tense, and I fear I may have misread things. “Was it ever just easy?”

Joel focuses on drilling the screws into the final leg before he answers me. My heart thumps in anxiety. I shouldn’t have pushed. The weekend was going so well. Why did I have to push my luck?

“I guess it was for a minute there, when we were just young kids livin’ our lives,” He examines his work, shaking the table legs again as he continues explaining. He doesn’t look at me while he talks. “She got pregnant so early into our relationship though, so it didn’t stay like that for long.”

I debate on leaving it like that. Joel is clearly uncomfortable, but I want to know him better. I hardly know his past at all.

“Why? What happened?” I ask.

Joel rubs his face and then wipes his hands on his jeans. He doesn’t shy away from the topic, but I can tell he wants the conversation to be over. From what I can tell after conversations with Tommy and Sarah, Joel doesn’t talk about Annie with anyone these days. I find that strange coming from a man who’s been so adamant that I open myself up to others.

“It was just a lot of pressure,” Joel grabs one end of the table and turns it back over to stand on it’s legs. “Neither of us knew what we wanted or how to handle it. Our parents were furious. We thought marriage was the best answer but neither of us were ready for it. It was a giant dose of real world issues shoved into our teenage romance, so no it wasn’t ready for long.”

“Tommy mentioned you guys were on your own with all that.” I respond. Joel turns to me with a slightly angered look on his face.

“It’s not Tommy’s place to be sharing that,” he says. I shrink back into the wall slightly. Joel’s anger immediately dissipates after seeing my reaction. “Sorry it’s just, a part of my life I don’t want you to have to deal with.”

I try not to be angry that he chooses to hide that part of his life from me, but I find myself wondering why he doesn’t think he can trust me with it. He seems so keen on knowing my secrets and holding my darkness. I wish he’d let me do the same for him.

He doesn’t give me any more room to press him on the topic, choosing instead to bring the energy in the room back up. He picks me up and carries me over to the table. I squeal and kick my legs in the air, caught off guard by suddenly being thrown over Joel’s shoulder.

When he sets me down he places me on the finished table and stands between my parted knees. He places his hands on the surface of the table bracketing my hips. His lips come forward to meet mine, pulling me in for a deep kiss when he shakes the table roughly again. It stays firm on the ground, no creaking or concerns that it might collapse.

“Now that’s a proper table,” he says with a grin. He pulls me in for another kiss, immediately deepening it and bringing me closer to the edge of the table. As the kiss gets more heated I push him away. “What?”

“We are not fucking on the table again Miller, you just fixed it.” Joel’s big brown eyes morph into a sad pleading expression, but I refuse to cave. Instead I shake my head and cross my arms.

“Oh come on,” He kisses my neck, biting down enough to leave a mark on the skin.

“Joel” I moan and throw my head back. When he moves to the other side of my neck I shake my head to clear it and crawl across the table to the other side.

He stands with his hands still on the table. I grin at him while he gives me a grumpy look on the other side of the wood.

“Not on the table,” I say cheekily.

When he starts to round the corner toward me I run off in the opposite direction, heading for the stairs. I giggle as I hear him start to run after me. I’m halfway up the stairs when I feel his hands grip my waist and pull me off my feet. I kick my feet in the air and squeal.

Joel places my knees on the ground. I grab the edge of the steps in front of me and gasp when he grabs the waistband of my leggings and underwear, pulling both down my thighs. The material gathers at my knees as he fumbles with his belt.

“Joel,” I whine. The tension pulls in my center so much it almost hurts. I can feel the center of my thighs becoming slick as my wetness drips down the inside.

“I know baby. I know, I’ll make it feel better.” Joel yanks his own pants down enough that his cock springs out.

His hard length presses against my back causing me to moan as I press back into him. What started out as playful banter has turned into overwhelming need. Joel runs his fingers along my folds, groaning loudly when he realizes how wet I am.

“Oh darlin’, you need it bad huh?” He mumbles huskily into my ear. I nod my head, pushing myself back against him again.

He chuckles in response as he brings his hand back to his cock. He pushes his length through my folds slowly. I push my body back into his hoping that he’ll begin to fill me. I let out a hiss when the head of his member brushes against my clit before he pulls back again.

After a couple thrusts his cock notches at my throbbing entrance. I’m panting as I wait for him to press forward, on the verge of tears from anticipation. He kisses my shoulder while he pushes just the tip inside and freezes again.

“Please, please, please, plea-” I beg, cut short from the delicious stretch of his cock inside me. I throw my head back on his shoulder as he thrusts forward. His hands grip my hips to hold me still while I tremble around him.

Once he’s filled me to the brim he pauses to let me adjust. My pussy flutters around his pulsing length. I could probably come just from this, but he soon retreats and slams his hips back into mine. He keeps his pace slow, but his thrusts hard and deep. Each one pushes the breath out of my lungs.

“Fuck, Joel.” I moan as he thrusts in again. “It feels so good, you feel so good inside me.”

“Yeah?” He pants. His hands slip on my hips as he struggles to maintain his grip through the combined sweat of our bodies. Words are becoming increasingly more difficult as the pleasure builds so I nod my head in response.

I feel my core tighten and clench around Joel’s cock. He groans and starts to thrust harder and slightly faster. His hand slips around my front to start making small circular motions on my clit. The coil inside me starts to tighten even more, causing me to lurch forward on the stairs.

I rest my forehead on the stairs as I call out for Joel, no longer aware or in control of what I’m saying. Whatever it is, it spurs him on more. My fingers pull at the threads of the carpet on the stairs, undoubtedly pulling chunks out as well, while Joel’s fingers speed and supply more pressure. Something snaps inside me. I scream as I let go. Joel grunts as my pussy throbs around him, and continues working me through my climax.

When I come down my body sags against the harsh angles of the stairs. The only thing keeping my hips from the ground is Joel’s hand wrapped around my waist. I can tell he’s close. His thrusts become sloppier as he moans louder with each one. I feel him pulse inside me and he grunts.

He quickly pulls out and turns my body around on the stairs. Joel’s hands grab the front of the shirt I’m wearing, his shirt I stole off the bedroom floor this morning, and yank it open. Buttons clatter along the walls and railing of the stairs as they fly away.

With my chest and stomach exposed to the open air, Joel brings his hand to his cock. He pulls it rapidly. I watch him through hooded eyes while he moans. His eyes wander over my figure splayed out in front of him. Once he looks up to see my face he lets go with a loud growl. His seed decorates my body in ribbons, continuing to pump his length until he has no more left to give.

He grabs the wall with one hand and the railing with another as he breathes heavily with his head hung. I commit the sight to memory, certain that this is what all the greatest painters in history saw when they decided to capture the beauty of man.

His breathing begins to slow down when he opens his eyes again. He brings them up to me and remains frozen as I trail one hand down to the mess he’s left on my skin. I collect his spend on my fingers and lock eyes with him as I bring it up to my mouth and suck my fingers dry. He looks about ready to collapse from the sight alone.

When I pull my fingers from my lips he leans down and kisses me gently. His tongue licks along my bottom lip before slipping inside my mouth. As he pulls away a string of saliva connects us and then splits, seeking in the coarse hairs of his beard.

He stands up first, pulling his pants back up, and then helps me back to my feet. Joel pulls my leggings and underwear back up for me as I wobble on my legs. I keep my grip on the railing so I don’t fall. Over half the buttons on the shirt I was wearing are now hidden in the carpet of the stairs, so it remains open while I attempt to climb back up the stairs. Joel lets me try for a minute before picking me up and carrying me to bed for a nap.

To read more visit a03.

[fangirl-writes]

Small Spaces

JJ Maybank x Reader; John B. Routledge x Routledge!Reader

Warning(s): claustrophobia, anxiety attack, swearing

Request: jj maybank dating jb’s twin sister and her joining in on their adventures but she has severe anxiety so just him being super sweet and loving to her?

Notes: This is totally based on another fic I read that I can't find rn but it's my spin on it so I hope you like.

Fuck this, you thought. Seriously, fuck this.

You were squeezing yourself through a small hole in a mausoleum that had "Redfield" written across the top, just to see what was inside.

For John B., of course, because he was your brother, and he needed to find this clue almost as much as he needed to be breathing.

But god damn it, this was all you needed.

Between the near visit from child services, the hurricane, the dead guy's boat, the guy's gun, getting shot at, and surely more to come, you were due for a panic attack.

Your feet hit the ground with a loud smack and you winced at the noise.

"Still alive?" John B. asked.

"Oh my god, shut up,"

"Yep, she's alive."

You rolled your eyes and took the flashlight that Kie was offering you.

You shined the light around the space, bigger than you were expecting, but the fact that your exit was so small and that it would be a struggle getting back to it was making the anxiety stir in your stomach.

"Y/N? You okay?" JJ asked.

"Yeah, yeah, I'm fine," you replied. "What exactly am I looking for?"

"You'll know it when you see it."

"Real helpful, JB," you mumbled, shining the flashlight around and trying to focus on finding whatever it was rather than the darkness and the walls that felt like they were going to close in on you.

You gasp when a flash of white catches your eye.

"Y/N? You okay?" JJ asked

"Oh my god," you whispered.

"Y/N?" JJ asked again. "I'm gonna need some word confirmation that you're okay."

"Yeah, I-I'm fine," you replied. "I think I found it."

"What? Really?" John B. said, peaking into the space you'd crawled into.

You pulled out a long white envelope from a small space in the crypt, the words "FedEx" and "Bird" written on it.

Thanks for including me, Dad, you thought before taking the envelope over to the space and handing it to John B.'s outstretched hand.

"That's not gold," Pope said, a little disappointed.

But John B. was looking at it like it was. "Holy shit."

"JJ, a little help?" you said, reaching a hand through the space.

"Yeah, yeah, I gotchu, babe," he replied, helping you out of the crypt.

"This is from our dad," John B. said, looking around at the group.

"Yeah," you said, trying to catch your breath. "To you."

"Code red. Code red." JJ warned, the smoke from his joint fluttering up into the air. "Square groupers! Square groupers!"

Your stomach drops as the five of you start moving, JJ's hands grabbing your arms rougher than he probably meant to.

"It's the guys who robbed your house," JJ said.

Fuck, you think. Fuck. Fuck. Fuck.

You guys hide on the side of the mausoleum, turning off and tucking the lights under your shirts.

You can feel it start to bubble up, your breathing becoming unsteady.

"Hey, I see something!"

"Do you think it's them?" Kiara asked.

"Homie's got a gun," JJ said as he and John B. peaked around the corner.

"Screw this," Kie said, taking off. The others followed her, including you, who was on the verge of breaking down.

"Right here!" One of the men shouted.

JJ's hand was on your back the whole time, but it did nothing to calm you down.

You each scaled the fence with little trouble except for Pope, who got his pants stuck on the gate.

It was funny until you were in the van and that anxiety attack had caught up with you, the adrenaline fix going away.

Your hands shook. Your chest tightened. Tears began streaming down your cheeks.

You were starting to hyperventilate, and your head was spinning. Even though you knew you were safe in the Twinkie now, you couldn't help the dread that was washing over you, the fear for your life that coiled around you like a snake.

"Hey, hey, hey, Y/N," JJ said, quickly catching on to what was happening. "You're okay, you're okay."

He made you look at him and took a few deep breaths for you to copy, which you did over and over.

"Shit, get this joint out of here," JJ said, handing it off to Pope.

"What am I supposed to do with it?" he asked.

"Throw it out the window or something, get it outta here. It only makes her worse."

You'd tried that anecdote before, and, as he said, it really did only make the panic attack worse. Through trial and error, JJ and John B. found the only things that helped you through a panic attack were calming words, help getting your breathing back to normal, and hugs.

So, JJ did just that. He held you close and whispered in your ear, rocking you back and forth slowly.

John B. checked your state in the rearview, feeling bad that he'd brought you along at all, even if you had insisted. Then he looked at the envelope sitting next to him and knew that, somehow, it would be worth it.

[lorata]

Wait I just did the maths and Alec was 12 in Claudius’ arena. What was that like watching with his parents? Did Joseph use it as a teaching moment ‘this is what happens when you break the rules’ sort of deal

Anonymous asked: Just realised Alec would’ve been 12 and watching Claudius’ arena with Joseph and Adora, did they say anything? Did they comment? What did the trainers say?

OKAY WELL SIX MONTHS / 6,000 WORDS LATER HERE WE ARE

warnings for uhhhhh generational trauma and child abuse and the cycle of trauma / abuse / fear / fascism / all that good Seward soup

FIC BELOW:

-----

Creed left for Residential a week before the Reaping, and his absence stretched long and thin as the Games played out. One of their tributes died quick, a heavy blow to the head that took him out before he hit the ground. The other managed to drag herself into a tree with a seeping gut wound, blood oozing between her fingers and dripping down the branches, face upturned at the camera for a sponsor parachute that never came. No signs of life but the flutter of her lashes and the steady drip-drip-drip of blood until both stilled and the cannon fired.

“Bedtime,” Dad said, then almost as an afterthought, “You too, Selene.”

Alec dragged himself off the sofa, limbs heavy. Selene kept sitting, eyes fixed on the television with a now familiar glint. “Lene,” Alec said, sharper than he meant to.

Her gaze snapped to him, sharp with irritation, and he saw the Centre-reflex in the coil of muscle at her shoulder. Saw her wind up to hit him before the moment cleared and she was back in his living room, both their parents watching. “Whatever,” she said with sarcasm-shaded casualness. No points for subtlety, trainee, said the trainer in back of Alec’s head, but at least she followed.

No jockeying for space at the bathroom mirror now that Creed had gone. Alec missed it with a desperate ache, but elbowing Selene now wouldn’t bring back the easy playfulness of the early years. She brushed her teeth, spat, and marched into the bedroom without a word, leaving Alec to stand there with his mouth full of foam and his chest a gaping hole.

By the time Alec ventured into his room Selene had already vanished into the top bunk (Creed’s bunk). Alec stared at the lump of blankets in the reflected hallway light before giving up and crawling under the covers.

“I wouldn’t have tripped,” Selene said. The blankets rustled — the mattress creaked as she rolled over to face the wall — and soon her breathing evened out into sleep.

Alec tried, really he did. Except that eyes closed or open, squeezed tightly shut or held wide until they burned he still saw it: the red-black splatter of arterial blood onto wide jungle leaves.

-----

December: icy winds whistling from the mountains, blowing snow that stung his cheeks, endless promotions for the upcoming Victory Tour. Selene’s thirteenth birthday.

No party, like she predicted. Instead, Alec’s window slid open as he hunched over his desk, struggling with an essay about the Solstice, and Selene dropped through. Snowflakes scattered on her dark hair, slowly melting. “Yo,” she said. “Got the signature.”

Alec swallowed hard. “You going tonight?”

“Yeah. Uncle Joe’s going to drive me.” Not Uncle Paul. Not Aunt Julia. Selene rubbed one cheek with her shoulder, a short, jerky movement, avoiding Alec’s eyes as he gaped at her.

Selene barely spoke to her parents anymore, tension filling their house until it choked. But they weren’t the only ones; shared family dinners had stalled out since the fall. Selene’s parents didn’t want her going to Residential, everyone knew that. He didn’t know his parents had gone behind their backs.

“Oh,” he said. “Well — knock ‘em dead?”

“You know it.” She punched his arm. “Don’t wuss out without me.”

“Yeah, right. Like I’d stay here by myself where it’s sad and boring.” Alec shoved her back, and for a moment they could have been horsing around like old times, if not for the damp-edged sheaf of folded paper clutched to Selene’s chest. “Don’t break all the records before I get there.”

Selene didn’t wave as the car backed away down the narrow lane, but Alec watched the headlights bob through the trees anyway. “Are they mad?” he asked. The thought twisted his insides.

Mom held onto the question before she answered. He liked that she took him seriously, but hated that she had to think. “She would have walked,” she said at last. “Liking and accepting are different things.”

Not a no, Alec thought, but not ‘we are banned from the Valents’ house forever’ either. He didn’t like it, but he could accept it. One kill for Mom.

-----

Aunt Julia handed him his favourite mug, steaming and filling the kitchen with mint. Alec took it without paying attention, curling his palms around the sides instead of grasping the handle. He jerked back with a hiss, liquid sloshing over the rim onto his fingers. Only Centre-training kept him from flinging the mug away.

“Alec!” Julia darted forward. “Did I burn you?”

“No,” he said quickly, and hid his arms behind his back. His throat clenched. “No, I’m okay. Sorry. It’s fine.”

Julia studied him for several endless seconds. At the Centre Alec learned to take a punch to the face without flinching, but under Julia’s direct scrutiny he buckled and held out his hands. She curled her fingers around his wrists, turning him to face her so she could examine the angry weals slashed across both palms.

“I fell,” Alec said in a low voice. Julia caught his gaze and held it, but this time he squared his shoulders and stared back, steady. “I fell,” he repeated. “It was my fault.”

(Spring meant young, green branches, and Dad had been distracted. Usually he was precise: two short strokes each, but this time Mom had darted in to stop him. She’d ordered Alec to the Valents’ and pulled Dad aside, and as he edged out the door he’d caught the the sharp snap of her tone.)

Julia sighed, but only stood up to fetch the medicine kit. Alec watched her smear cream over the parallel cuts and tape his hands, and took a deep breath as she finished. “Is something … happening? Outside. Dad is really tense.”

Like Mom, Julia considered her words before answering. “I’m almost twelve,” Alec insisted. “I’m not a kid anymore, you can tell me.”

“You know Paul and your father can’t talk about work at home,” Julia warned. “But I do think the country is … uneasy. Seven had an unconventional win, and those are always unpredictable. I think everyone will be on edge until the Reaping.”

“We learned about that in Civics,” Alec said slowly. “Unrest happens in cycles. The districts get restless after the Tour but quiet down when the next Games start.”

She favoured him with a tight smile. “Exactly. A few more months and things should go back to normal.”

-----

“Elias Linden!”

Alec inhaled sharply through his nose. Reaching into his mind he yanked out half a dozen memories of the switch stinging his palm, Dad’s hand knocking his face to the side, the burn of his thighs as he counted down the minutes of his nightly wall-sits, so that when the camera drones swung past his row the image of his face that flickered across the enormous screens stared out calm and impassive.

(Alec, seven years old, desperate and terrified to start a fight so the Program will notice him.)

(A group of kids with Centre bracelets, tossing a ball back and forth in a circle.)

(A kid in the middle, wrist bare, face screwed up tight and lower lip wobbling.)

(“You’ve had your turn. Let someone else play.” “Last chance, kid. Go away.”)

(Alec in the office with a broken nose, split lip, a bag of frozen peas held to his face. Kid in the middle vanished as soon as the fists started flying.)

Elias Linden.

Out of all the twelve-year-olds in District 2. Alec must have fought the bullies over him a dozen times those next few months. Elias never said thank you — never looked him in the eye — and once the Centre called Alec stopped picking fights, too exhausted to think about the merchant boy with the hunched shoulders and hunted expression.

Elias didn’t look like a kid who’d learned to fight once his recess saviour forgot about him. The drones zoomed in on those same hunched shoulders, same clenched jaw, same stupid fancy clothes that made him a target for every pre-Residential tyrant in the central quarter. 

And now —

“I volunteer!”

Alec pressed his knees together against the automatic urge to buckle. He had actually forgotten. Year after year of summers in this square — Creed’s lifelong obsession — and still, for those 30 seconds it was real. The Arena had swooped down and curled its claws around Elias, around all of them, like everyone else in Panem.

But they weren’t the rest of Panem. They were Two, and Alec couldn’t breathe. For a handful of seconds he got it, got why Dad always used that reverent voice when he spoke about the Games, why Creed puffed himself up so big and important. Alec knew Elias and they’d called his name; it could have been Alec. But it wouldn’t be Elias, and it wouldn’t be Alec, not this year, not any year.

Because of the tall, blond teenager with long limbs and steely eyes who strode down the central aisle, mouth curved in a hard sneer. And one day, because of Creed.

Alec bit his tongue until he swallowed blood and cheered with the rest of the crowd, a hollow in the pit of his stomach.

-----

Without Creed, now without Selene, the afternoon yawned. A whole summer with no one else for company; even Alec’s usual trick of calling up an imaginary Selene to devise likely activities wouldn’t save him now. Maybe he could dam the creek and teach himself to swim in the shallows? That would take time, if nothing else.

“Alec.”

He never jumped on the outside anymore, even when all his insides clenched into knots. But Dad’s serious voice made Alec’s heart start running laps, and he turned around slowly, brain doing somersaults trying to figure out what he’d done wrong. Forgot to make his bed? Left his breakfast dishes on the table? Splashed water on the sink and didn’t wipe it?

“Come inside and see this,” Dad said. “It’s important.”

Most kids at school didn’t start watching until the Reaping, maybe the year before so they knew what standing in the square their first year meant, but even Alec only sat down with his parents for the evening recap. A low chord of foreboding plucked in his chest. Quicksand dragged his limbs but he forced himself into a Peacekeeper’s march to join his parents in the living room.

Tucked into a corner of the sofa, under cover of his knees, Alec twisted anxious fingers in the crocheted afghan as one after another, district after district, kids his age walked shakily to the stage. This year the Games would have a whole stage of Elias Lindens — or Alec’s entire class at school.

“What happened?” he asked, once the footage switched to commentary. The Games correspondents didn’t have any theories, or if they did, they weren’t telling. Dad pressed mute on a discussion over the ongoing trend of seersucker in the outer tributes’ Reaping shirts.

‘This,” Dad said, slow and heavy, and Alec’s brain filled in the rest of the sentence along with him as he had done thousands of times — only without the ghost of Selene’s imitation trying to make him giggle —

This is what happens when we break the rules.

“Aunt Julia said,” Alec said, needing to show he understood, needing desperately to be a grownup. “She said there was unrest in the districts. Like how we learned in school.” Dad said nothing, which meant he wasn’t wrong, and so he continued, one foot in front of the other. “So this is — a reminder? That the Games are not a joke. That — that obedience is not a joke. That … they think they’re smart enough to find a way around the rules, if they’re tricky, but they’re not. The Capitol is the boss no matter what.”

Mom nodded. “Yes.” Now the Reaping footage returned in split screen, the only Volunteers (One, Two, Four) waving at the roaring crowds. Her face pinched, eyebrows drawing close, one corner of her mouth turned down. “Their job will be to carry out the punishment.”

“Because we’re the sword,” Alec said, on surer ground now. Anyone who made it to Transition knew this one. District 2, the tool, the weapon, acting as the Capitol willed. Creed had that speech memorized since he was five years old. “We don’t write the message, but we send it.”

They sent him back outside after that, and Alec hauled himself up the willow tree in the hopes that wind in the branches and the solid bark beneath his back would settle the uneasy churning in his stomach. All those weeks of Dad working overtime, the growing tension, a whole nation under the thumb for disobeying. Alec squirmed when Selene sneaked an extra cookie in front of him, never mind widespread treason. And now, six tributes in charge of delivering the Capitol’s retribution. Alec didn’t envy them that task. What did you do with tools, after all, once they’d outlived their use? There would only be one Victor this year, same as any other.

He clenched his eyes shut and focused on the rustle of leaves overhead, the drone of insects and scream of a distant hawk.

-----

Nothing surprising about their girl this year. Strong, beautiful, definitely deadly, stalking the training room in ‘unreleased’ footage that fools nobody but they still do it every year. Dad liked her; Mom said she should smile more. Then they had a brief argument about double standards in tribute sponsorship — Dad: “No one ever asked Nero to smile” Mom: “I am well aware” — while Alec wedged himself in the sofa corner as usual, hoping they forgot about him.

The boy, though —

Right from the start Alec could tell that the male tribute from Two would be unconventional, a thought that chilled his spine. Alec watched, chest squeezed so tight his ribs creaked, as the rangy boy chatted up outlier tributes, postured with the other Careers, and looked up at his mentor with such raw need that Alec looked away, burning with second-hand humiliation. Not exactly the ruthless murder machine that the Reaping set up for him to be.

Once footage ‘leaked’ of a Two v. Four showdown in the training room, both boys bristling for a fight, bodies tense and pushed up in each other’s space, eyes locked, faces so close they breathed the same air. Alec’s face burned, his whole body flashing hot, and he had to fight the urge to fling the blanket over himself, horrified to be in the same room as his parents, even though nothing about that made sense.

“What is he playing at,” Dad groused. “Actually, no, what is his mentor playing at. That boy’s only doing what he’s told. She knows better. Our job — and the stakes — could not be more clear. This is not the year to get clever.”

Alec didn’t bother answering, having long learned to differentiate between Dad’s ‘vent’ and ‘require response’ modes, and so he tensed when Mom ignored the signs. “She wants her kid to survive. There’s no shame in that.”

“That is not what the Games are for,” Dad said sharply. “Not this year. Not any year. They’re bigger than the life of one tribute, one mentor. Lyme knows that — or at least, she should. If she’s forgotten, then that’s one more piece in why this year is necessary.”

Mom’s face tightened, and Alec expected the silence to stretch the way it sometimes did at the dinner table, awkward and awful, but she fired right back, fast enough he nearly flinched. “Of course they’re more than a single life, but that doesn’t make that life irrelevant. It doesn’t mean she shouldn’t try everything she can to bring him home. Or should she dig a grave as soon as the paperwork is signed?”

“Alec,” Dad said, without looking at him, “Outside.”

Alec scrambled off the couch and out the door so fast he bashed his knee, hip and shoulder against various corners on the way out. He did not slow down until he hit the woods. 

-----

Next morning, creeping downstairs to grab breakfast and duck outside before his parents woke, Alec ran into his father on the way up, squarely-folded blanket and pillow tucked under his arm. “Um,” Alec said, burning with a sense of shared embarrassment he couldn’t articulate.

“Alec,” Dad said, like any morning, except he fixed his gaze to the left of Alec’s head. Alec scrambled to the side, pressing his back against the wall to let him pass.

-----

“And with that, we’ll be right back to hear from our electrifying tributes from District 3!”

The camera wiped from Caesar Flickerman’s glinting smile to a panel of forecasters as Mom soundlessly muted the television. Alec’s knees dug into his chin and he held himself small, willing himself to shrink, dissolve back into the fabric of the couch, disappear entirely. Don’t move. Don’t breathe. Don’t even blink. Don’t do anything to draw attention. A mouse in the shadow of a hawk, waiting.

Dad’s moods had always filled the house — Creed never believed him but Alec could sense them with his eyes closed — and now it seeped into the living room, thick and unstoppable, like the low roll of thunder before a storm or gush of oil from an overflowing bucket. “Joseph,” Mom said, warningly, but then she stopped, looked at him, and her tone shifted, turning almost gentle. “Joe. It’s all right.”

“What about that is all right,” Dad gritted out. “The instructions this year could not have been more clear. One knows. Our girl knows. They’re playing along, they’re following the rules. The boy is not following the rules. He’s not following the rules, Dora —”

“I know,” Mom said, soothing. Alec had to breathe, finally, and drew air in through his nose as slowly as he could stand. “I know. But they know this as well as you do, they know the cost. They wouldn’t play this game for no reason. There must be a plan.”

“Oh?” Dad spun to glare at her, eyes wild. Don’t move, hissed Alec’s brain, don’t move. “What about all that about mentors and tributes and digging graves and lives not being irrelevant? Throwing our son in my face? Maybe she’s done the math and decided that it’s worth it, like you said. Maybe she doesn’t care who pays the price as long as one boy comes home. They don’t know.” His breath came ragged now. “They don’t know. They don’t know what happens when you break —”

Mom crossed the room in two sharp strides and knelt in front of Dad’s chair, holding his wrists. “Alec,” she said without looking away from Dad, “Go find Paul and Julia. Fast as you can.”

Frozen, Alec couldn’t move until Mom’s slap-sharp “Now, Alec!” tore him from his spot.

-----

Aunt Julia and Uncle Paul were washing the dinner dishes, television on mute in the other room, when Alec slammed his way in the front door. Julia jumped and dropped a drinking glass, which dropped into the sink with a wet plorp. “It’s Dad,” Alec said, chest squeezing. “The District 2 boy said something in the interviews and I don’t get it but it made him — he’s not — Mom said I should come get you —”

Julia and Paul exchanged a look. “Should I,” Julia murmured, and Paul shook his head. “I’ve got it,” he said, and he kissed the top of her head, folded the dish towel on the counter, and headed out. He squeezed Alec’s shoulder on the way past, his hand warm and solid.

“I don’t know what happened,” Alec said. He felt very small and very stupid and he missed Selene so much it hurt.

Julia sighed. “Let’s finish up the dishes first.”

Alec opened his mouth to protest, but Julia held out the towel and he stepped forward to take it from her automatically. And once he had the towel she handed him a glass and the rest sort of followed, and the rhythmic motions of drying the dishes didn’t make the earlier events disappear but they did help quiet the jangling in his brain, at least a little. Finally, Alec placed the last plate on the shelf and hung the towel up to dry, and Julia gestured him over to the table.

“I don’t know what happened either,” Aunt Julia began, and fair enough, they didn’t even watch the interviews. Until Alec came bolting in they wouldn’t have known there was anything to worry about. “But Paul and your mother will sort him out. Peacekeepers, you know. They understand things we can’t, sometimes.”

The urge to tear at the skin by his nails, to pick and pull until his fingers bled, bubbled up strong, and Alec exhaled hard and pressed his hands flat to the tabletop. Pushed down hard until his knuckles ached and his joints shook. “Do you think he’ll ever tell me?”

Aunt Julia frowned. “About tonight? Or something else?”

How even to explain the spectre that stalked his house, haunting the hallways and hanging over Alec’s shoulder any time he considered the kind of playful rule-bending that Selene took for granted as a childhood rite of passage. Alec stared at the table, following a grain of wood from the edge until it disappeared from view. “I don’t know how to — I feel like there’s something big I don’t know. Like he’s always not telling me something.”

Julia laughed.

A snort, not a fully belly laugh, and stifled by her hand once the sound caught up with her, but even so Alec bristled. “It’s not like that,” Julia said. “I only mean, Joseph always has something on his mind. But it has nothing to do with you — or anyone else, really.”

“But —” Alec clicked his tongue in frustration. “Shouldn’t I know? It seems like if I just, if I knew, I’d understand and it would all — make sense. Him. Me. All of it.”

She studied him, eyes dark and serious. “Alec,” Julia said finally. “It’s not your job to manage your father.”

Several summers ago, Selene pushed him out of the willow tree in the backyard. He’d landed on his side, shocked and winded, the breath driven from his lungs, one arm caught under him, wrist bone snapped in two. It came back to him now — not the blow or the pain or the fear, but that moment when he slipped from the branch before he hit the ground, when time elongated and he’d been weightless, floating.

“What,” he said finally, stupidly. “I’m not.”

“Hm,” Julia said. “I’ll make cocoa.”

-----

After the cocoa, Julia sent Alec upstairs to get ready for bed. “You’re welcome to stay here until things settle down,” she said. “I’ll make up the room for you.”

Despite absolutely nothing being different — Selene hadn’t even taken any belongings with her — the yawning cavern of her absence echoed so loudly that Alec actually stole one of her favourite shirts to sleep in out of spite, in the hopes that she would appear in the window to fight him for it, or something. Obviously she didn’t, because that was stupid, which meant that when Julia came back in to say goodnight she found Alec with ‘CAREFUL, I BITE’ emblazoned across his chest.

“Do you think we’ll get punished for what the Twos are doing?” Alec asked. “Dad’s worried, I know that much.”

Julia sat on the edge of the bed and brushed his curls back. “Your dad’s worried because his job takes him closer to things than most. I think if anyone knows their duty, it’s Two. Any mentor worth two stones knows how to keep their tribute and the district safe. Now sleep.”

She poked a finger between his eyebrows, then bent to kiss his forehead. Alec closed his eyes and let himself believe her.

-----

Tree shadows criss-crossed the ceiling as Alec tried to will himself to sleep. Two Boy had aimed the target back at the districts, blaming the families of the tributes for not volunteering. Except that — the outer tributes were usually scrawny, and starving, and had never seen a weapon in their lives. They hadn’t trained in a secret academy for years, had they? Mom and Dad and the trainers always said the Centre was a privilege. It wouldn’t be a privilege if everybody was allowed.

So what, then.

He could hear Selene’s dismissal already: not our problem. Even Creed would argue that training or no, it was the older sibling’s duty to protect the younger, and they would have to live with the guilt of that failure. But Alec had stood in that Reaping square, had watched Elias Linden take that first shaky step forward, and if no one else had taken his place? What if Alec had been thirteen, fourteen, fifteen, and never held a sword? Would he have done it? 

Alec didn’t even want to go to Residential. He’d never volunteer to die.

Okay. If it wasn’t the Careers, and it wasn’t the districts, then whose fault was it?

Alec jumped out of bed, sheets tangled around his feet so he nearly tripped and slammed into the floor face-first. He pushed Selene’s desk chair out of the way into the middle of the room, pressed his back against the wall and bent his legs until his thighs burned and his brain gasped in relief.

He counted to five hundred, then dragged himself, twitching and trembling, back to bed.

-----

Normality attempted to reassert itself with breakfast: scrambled egg and toast with a generous tablespoon of homemade rhubarb jam from the neighbours down the road. As always Alec hesitated at the jam — a definite indulgence, and he hadn’t done push-ups or anything this morning — but Julia had already spread it on the bread and asking for a plain slice would be rude. Julia and Paul shared another glance as he sat down, and Alec tensed.

“Your dad and Uncle Paul are going back to the office today,” Aunt Julia said, carefully. “We’ll all watch the recaps in the evening.”

Alec let out a breath. Aunt Julia was on-call for emergencies at the hospital and Mom’s school was out for summer vacation. Senior staff at Eagle Pass, meanwhile, had a work-from-home rotation for Games month, and it wasn’t Dad or Uncle Paul’s turn to be on site. “Is everything okay?”

“It’s an unconventional year already,” said Uncle Paul. “Safe to say the Arena will be a stressful one. We agreed it’s better if we’re not glued to the screen all day.”

Not exactly a lie — Paul and Julia only ever watched the recaps — but Alec knew the sound of an intervention when he heard one. “Okay,” he said slowly. “I guess I’ll … go hang out in the woods?”

Julia poured him a glass of juice. “You can take the fishing gear if you like. I’ll pack you a lunch.”  

-----

He left the fishing gear at home, haunted by the memory of gulping mouths and pleading eyes on the last trip Dad tried to take him on, which left his original dam-the-river plan as the only option that sprang to mind. Alec trudged home at dinner time soaking wet, covered in mud, having heard absolutely no stupid jokes or threats or feats of illogic all day. The only time he fell into the creek, he’d tripped on his own.

Hanging out by himself sucked.

-----

Twelve-year-olds died every year. Alec had even seen them. But even compared to the hulking gods of the Careers they’d still been older than Alec and somehow more mature, even if they sobbed their way from Reaping to unceremonious death.

Now they were his age. His classmates.

The recap didn’t linger too long on their deaths, screaming and running and fighting to scale the forcefield walls. Two Boy took out one in the first few seconds — first kill of the game — without even looking. Dad grunted under his breath, a noise Alec recognized as now you’re playing ball. Unfortunately they saved most of the bloodbath time for the Career drama, Two versus Four and the shouts of betrayal between them. Dad was bracketed on the couch between Mom and Uncle Paul, and Alec tried not to look at him.

Two Girl gave it her best shot, but even she couldn’t take down four Careers on her own. “He left her there,” Alec said in a small voice. Sure, it was the Games, and alliances were only temporary, but — still.

“He made his choice,” Dad said, flat and grim.

He’d made everyone else’s choices for them too, apparently. After killing Two Girl the Pack stared at each other, then split. Everyone for themselves from day one. Alec swallowed the sour taste in his mouth. At least his parents paid for the raw feed so he didn’t have to listen to a commentary track on top of everything else.

And so it went, day after day. An ugly Arena for an ugly year, full of traps and tricks to create excitement before a bunch of kids Alec’s age could die slowly on their own. “It is a punishment for the districts,” Alec said once, watching the girl from Twelve dissolve in acid rain, screaming until her lungs filled with blood. “But not —” Not one carried out by the Careers, he’d begun to say — not with their tributes struggling to survive alongside the outliers, hardly the glorious tools of the Capitol’s vengeance the Reaping promised them to be. The sense of exception granted by the Volunteers had levelled.

He froze as soon as he registered he’d spoken aloud, but Dad only sighed and pinched the bridge of his nose. “We have a narrative,” he said, reluctant. “We’ll see how it plays out.”

Two Boy started this, and so almost against his will Alec started to pay attention. While the Ones and Fours faced mutts, Two alone dragged himself out of the collapsing ground for hours and hours. Alec imagined the trainers asking, why? Why perseverance rather than combat? Humility over glory? Perhaps humiliation for the one who’d broken the rules? Bringing him low while the ones who’d played along got to earn their survival with honour and prestige.

Boring, Selene would say, for sure. Who wants to watch this dude crawl out of a hole for eight hours. Let’s go back to the fights.

-----

Two killed Seven after sharing a meal and talking about home, and Alec swallowed nausea. How could he do that, how could he — chat about family and little sisters and share chocolate and names and then slit his throat like that, like it didn’t even matter, pick up the dead boy’s token and take his snacks like it didn’t bother him. Alec thought of Selene sitting in Residential with the thirteens, watching, taking notes, of Creed, and the air around him had gone thin and thick all at once, pressing close around him and squeezing, squeezing, but none of it sliding into his lungs no matter how he gasped —

“Bed,” Mom said firmly, her hands on either side of his face. She snapped her fingertips against his cheek and he could breathe again. “Come on, Alec.”

He let her drag him into bed and tuck him in as she hadn’t done in years, physically lifting his legs over the edge of the bed and rearranging him bodily like a toddler. “I don’t want it,” Alec whispered, choked. “I don’t want Creed in there.”

“Creed,” Mom said firmly, “will not be like that.”

Alec pressed his arm over his eyes, breath shuddering. “He’ll still have to kill them. The ones my age.”

“He won’t have picnics with them,” Mom said. “He won’t make a game of it. And he won’t antagonize the President and the Gamemakers, either. You know that.”

He didn’t look at her. Pushed his arm down harder until coloured lights spun behind his lids. “Do you want him in there? Really?”

The bed creaked as Mom drew back, mattress bouncing with the sudden removal of her weight. “Good night, Alec,” she said, sharp and repressive, and it wasn’t fair and he shouldn’t have asked when she couldn’t possibly give an answer that would make him happy but her tone left no room for an apology.

Jeremy, Two Boy had said. Like my old man. He’d actually named his father on television. A father who — according to his interview — turned him out into the streets and left him homeless. Alec curled into a ball and tried to ignore the churning deep within.

-----

I hope the popcorn tastes good, said Two Boy, saluting over Nine Boy’s corpse with his blood-stained dagger. Try using thyme.

Dad stiffened. And there it was again, that little jolt in Alec’s spine, that sense of wrongness, the turn of his ankle on the stairs, the give beneath his foot that spoke of a sinkhole in the yard.

Two Boy hadn’t mentioned brothers. Maybe he didn’t know. Maybe he really did mean it to shame the district families, except. Except. If it were Creed he’d be sick with anger and guilt and fury, no one in the districts was eating popcorn — even in Two that was gauche, as Dad would say, so where — then who —

Alec met Dad’s eyes without meaning to, both of them fingers clenched on knees, breathing through their noses. This is what happens, Dad always said, when he ordered Alec to the wall, or sent him to his room without dinner, or cut a switch from the dogwood coppice in the backyard. This, and this, and this.

I get it, Alec wanted to say, desperate and terrified, but his voice died in his throat. I get it. He’s going to get us all in trouble.

Dad’s mouth thinned. He nodded, once, and turned back to the television without a word.

-----

Two Boy dragged himself across the frozen grass to the hovercraft as his vitals plunged downward at the bottom of the screen, but at the last possible moment he made it. The Gamemakers bestowed their favour, bringing out the sun to grant him that last burst of strength to get him to the ramp.

The Capitol assented. He had struggled enough, been humbled enough. A satisfactory narrative could be fashioned. District 2’s little traitor could come home.

Alec glanced at Dad, but phones were ringing off the hook all over the neighbourhood as soon as the trumpets blared. They all watched the recap knowing who would win. “Well,” Dad said finally, “this will be a fun cleanup.”

-----

No more of the districts-at-fault in the post-interview. No more inflammatory political commentary. They dressed Two in a too-big suit like a little boy wearing daddy’s clothes, had him blubber all over his mentor and cry about only ever wanting a family. Alec would never have believed it as a Two interview if he hadn’t watched the Games from start to finish.

Boring, said the Selene in his head again, absolutely disgusted, but the iron grip of terror around Alec’s chest loosened, maybe, a little. Obvious, sure, but maybe that was the point. Maybe playing poor-little-helpless-boy would be enough to forget this was one of the most dangerous Victors Alec had ever seen.

-----

After the closing ceremony, Dad called Alec outside. They stood together on the porch, shoulder to shoulder, looking out over the front walk as fireflies flitted in and out over the lawn. “Alec,” Dad said slowly. “These past — I’ve — I wanted to —”

Alec’s palms itched. The cuts from the switch had healed, pale pink stripes along his life line, nearly invisible. “It’s okay,” he blurted out. After everything that happened, everything he’d seen and heard, an apology from his father for showing emotion might actually explode his brain. “I get it. Now things can be normal again. Right?”

“I hope so,” Dad said, with feeling. He paused, and for a long moment no sound but the wind rustling the leaves and the call of two horned owls in adjacent trees. At last he let out a long breath and rested a hand on Alec’s shoulder. “I know it isn’t easy, but you’ve always tried to do what I ask of you. I know that.”

The sun had long set, only a thin, bright strip of light at the very base of the horizon above the buildings of town. Alec blinked away the stinging in his eyes. “Thanks, Dad.”

They stood there a moment longer, then Dad clapped his shoulder and stepped back. “Come on, then, let’s head in before the mosquitoes eat us alive.”

[cxtori]

Hi :3

Can u please do a jealous scenario with Kumatani? (^o^)

Thank u <3

I love your writing <3

Mitsuo Kumatani ✭ Not Jealous

wc: 1.5k

genre: fluff, jealousy, establish relationship

warnings: n/a, most definitely a little ooc Kuma here lmao

tori's note: I'm not gonna lie to you anon, I really struggled writing this. I just don't really see Kuma as the jealous type, so I didn't know what kind of situation to write lol. I hope he's not too OOC? I'm sorry babes, I did my best *cries* also, also SO SORRY THIS TOOK ME SO LONG LOOOOL

Kumatani always considered himself a typically calm and collected man. Someone who didn’t let things get under his skin easily. It wasn’t often that his emotions got the better of him, but when they did, it was usually because something (or someone) had pushed his buttons until they shattered.

The emotion he usually felt in such instances was annoyance, sometimes frustration and anger. But what he was feeling right now was a new one, and it was intense. 

“Wow, these trees look great, Y/n!” Eddy exclaims. Kumatani watches as the assistant director stands beside you, patting you on the shoulder. Kumatani feels his heart wrench when you nervously laugh out a ‘thank you’.

The bear suit he was so “blessed” to wear everyday didn’t have many perks. It was hot and stuffy, oftentimes itchy. It was hard to move in and it impaired his spatial awareness which, for him, was frustrating. 

But, a pro to the suit was it allowed his eyes and face to do whatever they pleased as it wouldn’t be seen by anyone else. He could roll his eyes and give annoyed expressions all he wanted without consequence. 

So, for moments like this, when he’s glaring holes into the back of Eddy’s head, he was thankful for it.

“They’re really not a big deal,” you say, brushing off the man’s compliment. You pick up a fake maple leaf and reattach it to a plastic tree branch, hoping it’ll stay in place this time. “They only took a couple hours, and they’re already falling apart.”

“Come on, give yourself some credit!” Eddy says, shoving his rejected compliment back in your face. “I couldn’t do anything like this, which is exactly why we hired you.” 

“Haha, right,” you say with a forced laugh. “Well I should get these onto the set  before Derekida shouts at me,” you say as you carefully pick up one of your mini maple trees, your hands squeezing the rough, faux bark. But, before you can walk away, Eddy begins to speak again.

“Oh, hey, I was uhh… Well, ummm… ” Eddy stutters and you feel your stomach drop. Oh no. You know that look as well as that nervous quiver in his voice. Before he even continues you already know where this is going. “I was planning on trying out that new restaurant tonight, would you wanna go? O-only if you’re not busy, that is...”

Just as you feared. You and Kumatani have only been dating for a few months, and you both preferred to keep your relationship quiet, so you can’t blame Eddy for not knowing. But seriously? Here? Now? In front of your boyfriend? You admired his courage but hated his timing.

“Oh, Eddy that’s nice but,” you start, trying to find a way to let him down kindly. You turn your head just enough to see Kumatani out of the corner of your eye. You turn back to Eddy, ready to break the news, and possibly his heart. “Umm, thing is-”

“We’re busy tonight,” Kumatani interjects, popping up beside you. 

“Aww, really?” Eddy says, a hint of confusion in his voice.

“Yes, really,” Kumatani says sternly, laying an arm gently over your shoulders, silently saying all that was needed. “Now, leave her alone.” You glance over at your boyfriend, even though you can’t see his face. 

Not many people can tell when Kumatani is getting ticked unless he purposefully shows it. You however, can tell by the slightest change in his tone. And based on the few words he’s just spoken, he’s not just ticked, he’s pissed.

Your eyebrows quirk and you question just why he was so mad. Eddy doesn’t know you’re dating, and it’s not like he’s pushed your boundaries. Kumatani seems to surprise himself with his words, his stoic shell cracking a bit.

“Oh, I see… s-sorry,” Eddy mutters. The director walks away without another word, partly out of respect, but mostly out of fear. He knew better than to make Kumatani mad.

You stand there in silence for a moment, tiny tree in hand and stuffy bear suit over your shoulder. 

“Thank you. But you know you didn’t have to do that. It was just Eddy,” you say with an awkward giggle. Mitsuo removes his arm from you and takes a small step back.

“Sorry. I don’t really know-”

“Y/n! We need those trees!” Derekida’s voice echoes through the studio, cutting Kumatani off and making you jump out of your skin. You groan, turning to pick up another one of the fake plants.

“Be right there!” You shout back, doing your best to hide the annoyance in your voice. Though it's not like Derekida hasn't heard it before. You turn back to your boyfriend, still interested in hearing what he has to say. “Hold that thought, ‘kay? I’ll meet you in your dressing room in a minute.”

Kumatani just nods as he watches you stumble to the filming set with your props. 

It doesn’t take you long to get the trees set up in preparation for Utano and Iketeru’s next performance. The moment you’re satisfied with how everything looks, you sprint to the dressing rooms before Derekida can notice you’re leaving.

You knock on the door before entering, finding Mitsuo standing in the room with his bear suit removed. Well, all but the mask. You stand there in silence for a moment as you stare at him, wondering why he’s bothered to take off everything except for the head.

“Whatcha doing?” You ask curiously. Your boyfriend remains unmoving, his arms cross over his chest.

“What do you mean?” He says casually, like he doesn’t expect you to question his choice of outfit. You roll your eyes with a small laugh before walking up to him and gently placing your hands on the bear head.

“Come on, I can’t take you seriously with that thing on,” you say and he doesn’t resist as you carefully pull the mask up and off of his head. You smile at the sight of his steely grey eyes, much better than the soulless black dots of a fake bear.

“Hi,” you say airily, leaning closer to him.

“Hi,” he says in return, his lips curving in a faint smile. You set his mask down on the table and sit on the edge beside it.

“So, wanna tell me what happened earlier?” You ask. Mitsuo’s eyes flash with a very brief moment of annoyance, and you just barely catch it.

“There’s nothing to tell. He tried to ask you out and I told him off,”

“Yes, but I think there’s a little more to it than that,” you push gently. “You seemed pretty upset.”

He just looks at you, not bothering to give even a small hum in response. But recalling the situation from just a bit ago was getting him irritated again.

He’s being ridiculous, he knows he is. He's not sure what set him off to begin with. People are allowed to compliment you, especially on things you’ve poured your time and effort into. But for some reason, seeing Eddy interact with you like that angered him.

He wasn’t about to tell you that though. That would mean admitting that his emotions got the better of him. And even though it is something that has happened before, he didn't like the feeling of losing control.

You watch him stand in his silence, replaying the situation in your head when it hits you.

“Are you jealous?” You ask bluntly.

 “Jealous?” Mitsuo repeats, caught off guard by your assumption.  “Of course not.” He looks away from you and crosses his arms back over his chest. He’s trying to look unperturbed, but you absentmindedly make the connection to a pouting child. He may have been annoyed, but he certainly wasn’t jealous.

 “Oh, you’re so jealous. This is hilarious.”

“I said I’m not jealous,” he says simply, but from the slight change in his tone of voice, you can tell he’s at least a little jealous, even if he doesn’t know it. You laugh softly and stand from the table, walking over and taking your boyfriend's hands in yours.

You look up at him sincerely, though his eyes avoid yours.

“Mitsuooo,” you coo. The man grunts in annoyance, wanting this conversation to be over so he can leave. He never thought he’d be given the choice to wear his bear suit or talk to you. And he certainly never thought he’d want to choose the former of the two. 

You raise a hand to his cheek, tenderly pulling him to face you, smiling brightly when his eyes finally meet yours.

“It’s okay if you are, I’m just teasing,” you say. You lean up to place a soft kiss to his lips and, while at first he doesn’t kiss back purely out of indignation, he soon melts into you, unable to resist your lips against his. You pull away, a satisfied look on your face.

“Are we good?” You ask, just inches away from his lips. 

“There wasn’t a problem with us to begin with,” Mitsuo states, a smirk, while absent on his face, audible in his tone.

“You know what I mean,” you say with a laugh. “Please don’t give Eddy a hard time. I love you and only you, okay? You don’t have to worry about anyone else.”

“Are you sure?” Mitsuo jokes.

“Shut up!” You say, giving your boyfriend a playful punch on the arm. He smiles as he grips your waist and leans down to kiss you, his warm lips molding perfectly against yours, warmth spreading through your body.

“I love only you too.”

©Cxtori 2024 please do not copy, plagiarize, repost or translate. reblogs appreciated

[lovebugism]

Would you/have you done one about steve comforting a reader who is scared of fireworks?

hi, love! thanks for your request! here's another v self-indulgent fic!! — the one where steve calms you down when have a hard time adjusting after the "fire" at starcourt tw for mentions of ptsd (shy!reader, hurt/comfort, 1.5k)

bug's summer fic fest ♡

Steve has the prettiest backyard you’ve ever seen. It’s adorned with a sparkling blue pool amidst a patch of lush green grass. It’s embellished with various holiday decorations that only add to its grandeur — yellow fairy lights, sparkling streamers, and paper decorations in varying shades of red, white, and blue.

His parents always go all out for these kinds of get-togethers, no matter how insignificant the holiday feels in comparison. The adults are gathered in the house now, tired after dealing with teenagers all day, getting wine-drunk in his father’s den.

The teenagers in question are spread out along the yard, most of them out front. You can see the kids through the gate, chasing each other with sparklers. You and Steve sit apart from all that, almost achingly drowsy after spending all day in the sun. 

The boy lies on his back in the hammock and presses you to his chest. His wide palms smooth up and down the length of your back, over your shirt. The fading Hawkins Tigers t-shirt actually belongs to him, and it swallows you whole accordingly.

Everything smells like sunscreen and pool water and his cologne. It entwines with the scent of his father’s whiskey and lingering smoke from the grill. The nostalgic smell of a dewy summer night lulls you to sleep entirely.

Steve tilts his head to his shoulder to watch you. There’s a distant smile playing on his lips he doesn’t even know is there. You look so cozy pressed against him, but he can tell you’re not sleeping. You shift every couple minutes, furrowing your brows like you’re waiting for slumber to come. 

He’s tired, too, but not enough to stop watching you.

“Hey, Stevie!” Robin shouts across the yard.

The boy forces himself to pull his eyes off of you. He turns his chin to his shoulder to look at the sandy brunette girl. Her sneakers are slotted between the holes of the metal fence. It props her a few measly inches off the ground, and she wraps her hand around the top bar of it. 

Steve’s scolded her a thousand times about that. He doesn’t want her to get stuck and break an ankle. But in true Robin Buckley fashion, she refuses to listen.

“What?” he calls back.

She bends at the waist over the fence. “You guys wanna come shoot fireworks with us?”

Your eyes are still closed. You hope she can tell from the distance so she’ll think you’ve fallen asleep. You don’t like fireworks — you never have, really, but especially not after Starcourt. The memory of that night makes your breath quicken and your heart race as your body buzzes with a misplaced adrenaline. 

You’re more scared of Steve saying yes to her plea. It’s one thing to be scared, but being scared without him holding you is exponentially more terrifying.

“I’m good just watching you guys!” Steve shouts in return. 

You feel the words rumble in his chest. A sigh of relief spills from your mouth in a breath you didn’t know you were holding.

Robin rolls her eyes at his response, grumbling something under her breath as she hops off the fence.

Steve winces as he watches her go, still terrified her shoes will get caught and her ankle will snap and they’ll have to go to the emergency room.

She makes it down safely, though. The fear still lingers within him, like the smell of smoke you can’t ever get out of your clothes.

“I’ve had enough of fireworks for a lifetime,” Steve mumbles more quietly to you. Still rubbing your back with one hand, he takes the other from behind his hand to smooth over your arm. His warm palm gives you a reassuring squeeze on your forearm. “I don’t how these shitheads are doing it, honestly.”

His laugh rumbles in his chest beneath you.

You try your best to muster a smile even though he can’t really see you from this angle. You’re just trying to convince yourself you’re not as scared as you really are.

“Me neither…”

Your eyes follow Dustin and Lucas with an acute attentiveness. One of them holds a long candle lighter while the other clutches a cylindrical firework. Your bones still ache with exhaustion, but you couldn’t be more wide awake. 

You’re heart whoosh, whoosh, whooshes in your ears at an increasingly rapid pace when the two boys crouch beside the firework.

Their faces glow with the orange flame for a few moments. When they hurry off in the other direction, you tense in preparation for the loud noise you know is coming.

The booming crack from the sparking gunpowder frightens you, anyway.

Your heart lurches in a fleeting panic, your body jerking even though you know you have no reason to be scared. Your sudden jolting scares Steve, too. The loud noise wasn’t as frightening to him as thinking you were about to fall out of the hammock.

He holds you tighter and laughs softly to himself — not at you, exactly, but at his own misplaced alarm. “Shit, babe. You okay?”

You exhale a deep sigh against him. “Yeah. Sorry, I just— I wasn’t expecting it to be so loud.”

You feel stupid for phrasing it like that. Of course, fireworks were loud. That was sort of the whole point, wasn’t it? But you don’t know how else to explain your fear to him. Sudden and thunderous noises just scare you more than they used to, far more than they should for the average person.

Steve doesn’t need an explanation, though. You don’t need a reason to be scared of something, or to tell him what the thing you’re scared of is. He just doesn’t want you to feel scared at all. About anything. In a perfect world, he could protect you from all the wars you wage in your own head.

“Want me to tell ‘em to stop?” he asks with pinched-together brows.

Your answer is immediate. You hold him tighter, as though keeping him from moving, as you shake your head against him. “No. Don’t do that. It’s not their fault. Fireworks just… they remind me of—”

“I know,” Steve coos gently to you, fingers squeezing softly at your arm again.

It’s not like you needed to explain it to him. He was there for all of it, watching with tears in his eyes as a possessed Billy Hargrove dragged you through a burning Starcourt Mall — gaze glassy with gunpowder and smoke and the thought of losing you.

His aversion to fireworks isn’t as rooted in fears as yours is. More than anything, he just hates the smell of them now. Maybe because he was only throwing them that night — at the big, fleshy, melting spider monster who wanted to kill them all.

He wasn’t the one who tasted death that night. Not like you, anyway.

Another fireworks cracks in the air.

The sound blasts and echoes through the whole yard. It sounds like gunshots — loud, repetitive, and merciless.

You weren’t paying enough attention to expect its arrival this time.

Suddenly, you’re back at Starcourt, getting hunted by secret Russian soldiers. The smell of blood and gunpowder stings your nose and makes tears burn the backs of your eyes. You wince and squeeze them shut, holding tighter onto Steve. 

A Renaissance painting of July 4th, 1985 is stained on the back of your eyelids.

The vibrant colors of Starcourt Mall are made of neon signs and bright orange flames. A monster made of flesh towers over you, sparkling with alternate-dimension slime and the vivid fireworks cracking overhead. 

It’s been a year since then. A lifetime. Hardly a second ago.

Your nose smushes into Steve’s shirt as you clutch onto him for dear life.

His free hand — the one not already splayed against your back — leaves your forearm and rises to your face. His palm is wide and warm as it engulfs your ear. He presses you into him, not too intensely, but enough to drown out the nightlife of Hawkins in July.

The scent of him covers you like a blanket. He smells like chlorine and body wash and chocolate ice cream — soft and warm like a summer night. Like heaven. Like home.

He brings you back to life without trying.

You finally turn to look up at the boy after spending several minutes avoiding his gaze. Your cheek rubs against the soft cotton of his shirt as you do so. Your tired eyes meet his smiling face.

“Better?” he asks with a crooked, pink grin.

You can’t really hear him, not with both your ears muffled. But you can read the word as it spills from his pink mouth and feel it rumble in his chest.

A gentle smile quirks the corners of your lips. You nod.

He holds you like that the rest of the night. He props his golden forearm against his chest and keeps his palm pressed intently against your ear. It doesn’t totally cancel out the cracking fireworks, but it helps to keep them at bay.

Your eyes dance along the velvet starry sky as fireworks burst in rainbow colors against it. They don’t remind you of death and dying anymore.

You feel held. Like you can finally move on from it all.

As long as you’ve got Steve Harrington holding you, at least.

[ohtobeleah]

Dot having a baby sister makes me so sad for teenage Dot. If she struggles with her brothers her sister must be worse. She definitely feels replace 🥺 I hope eventually Dot realizes how much Rooster loves her.

Warnings: under age drinking? Terms of Endearment Masterlist

Dot has two siblings. Riley Carole Bradshaw & Nickolas Jacob Bradshaw. But let's get into it, shall we? 

Dots so rebellious in her teenage years. Especially around the time she’s sixteen boarding on twenty one. She’s dealing with an identity crisis, doesn’t know who she is or wants to be and that comes out in the form of her teenage angst. Where she believes everyone in the world is against her and that nobody understands what it’s like to be her. 

“I wanna go see dad—“ Odette is barking at you one morning while you’re getting ready for work, making Nick his sandwich and packing his fruit snacks into his lunchbox. 

“He’s literally out the back in the shed Dot—“ You don’t register what your oldest is saying to you until she metaphorically backhands Bradley Bradshaw so hard you know he feels the sting in his heart from the tool shed. 

“Not Bradley—my real dad? The one in prison?” You’re freezing in your place, the knife covered in peanut butter in your hand nearly breaks the slice of bread in half as you feel every muscle in your body tense. 

“No.” You answer sharply, shaking off the fear you felt radiating under your skin. Even after all these years Jaidyn Dolan still had a power over you. He scared the ever living Christ out of you. “End of story—no.” 

“But why not? I mean, it’s not like you ever talk ab—“ Just as Bradley is making his way into the house via the back door, he hears you raise your voice to an octave he hardly ever hears you reach. 

“I said no Odette!! For once will you just listen to me when I tell you no!!?” The whole house falls silent and Dot is just looking at you like she hardly knew you. “Christ! That man has never been a part of your life and he never will be! Do you hear what I’m telling you?” Bradley can see the pain in your eyes, he knows that even still to this day you can’t talk about it—any of it. He knows you and Odette have been on the rocks the past couple of months, to no fault of your own. It’s just teenage angst: 

“Loud and clear Commander.” Odette sasses you as she grabs her lunch bag, rolls her eyes and walks right past Bradley who’s just standing in the archway that separates the kitchen and living room. “Bye—“ He watches her open and slam the front door with the force of a thousand suns. Flinching as the sound of the door hitting the frame echoes throughout the house. 

“What the hell was that?” Roosters asks as he looks over his shoulder at Riley who’s just standing there bewildered at the way her mother had just yelled at her older sister. Frowning a weird expression at his middle child who shrugs her shoulders back at him. “Fe?” 

“Dot wants to go see Jaidyn in jail—“ Is all you say without looking up at your husband. “She’s not going, end of story—“ 

Bradley doesn’t reply. He simply processes what you just said and sighs. He takes a few strides over to where you’re busy taking out your anger on the piece of white bread that’s now full of holes and covered in peanut butter. Bradley stands behind you, he slowly but surely reaches out to take the butter knife from your hand and kisses your cheek softly. Watching as you whisper out a sob and cup your hand over your mouth. 

“I’m not telling you what to do here honey, but maybe if she knew—“ 

“I can’t tell her Rooster.” You turned around into Bradley’s chest, hiding your face in his shoulder. “I just can't.” Bradley understands, he still has nightmares from time to time about everything that happened. He’s woken up with sweat covering his entire body after tossing and turning, dreaming about what could have been if he didn't get to you. He understands. 

“Alright, well, we’re just gonna have to keep managing this phase she's going through.” 

Which you do. For about two days before you can't take the silent treatment any longer. You can't take the disgruntled looks Dot sends you from across the dinner table, the way she looks at Bradley like he didn't raise her since she was two, like he wasn't her father. Instead a stranger sitting across from her pretending to be someone to her that he wasn't. 

“Odette honey will you come here please?” You call out from the living room, Dot just rolls her eyes when she hears you calling for her. She’d been grabbing a drink from the fridge. 

“Yeah mum?” 

“I want you to look at these two pieces of paper for me.” You don't even look at your daughter as she walks closer to the coffee table that has two pieces of paper sitting side by side on top of it. You're watching old reruns of Gilmore Girls and Dot thinks you're just being a bitch with the whole not being able to look her in the eyes bullshit. But what Odette doesn't know is that if you look at her, you’re gonna break down. So you don't bother. “One of those pieces of paper is termination of parental rights form.” You explain softly. “Signed by Jaidyn Dolan himself.” 

Dot just stared at the document that had her biological dads signature on it, his name in print above it. 

“The one next to it is an adoption form, a legal guardianship form that Bradley signed the day after Jaidyn signed all his rights away.” You tried so hard to hide your tears in the glow of the TV. Tried to silence the voices you heard inside you heard that you couldn't turn off. The screams, the pleading and the begging. “You want to go see the man who signed his rights away so be it sweetheart, but I need you to know he’ll never be your dad and he won't ever be your father and he never was to begin with.” 

“Will you take me?” Is all Dot asks as she barely looks at the paperwork. “To see dad?” It kills you whenever she calls Jaidyn her dad, whatever identity you hope Odette finds you hope it's soon and hope it's quick because you can't take the pain of the knife she's slowly twisting into your heart. 

“No baby I won't.” You finally turn to face your daughter, Dot sees the tears in your eyes and wonders why you're crying, but she doesn't bother to ask. “And don't bother asking your father because he’s not taking you either, and Uncle Jake said he’d rather be arrested again than take you anywhere near him.” Dot frowns at the work again in that sentence, like she missed the story about the first time uncle Jake was arrested. “But your aunt Amilia said she will.” 

“Why won’t uncle Jake take me either?” Dot asked just above a whisper as she watched you wipe your tears away, collecting the documents you needed to keep safe incase of an emergency. Copied twice with one set being kept safely in Jake Seresin personal study as well as your own. 

“Because he knows if he's let anywhere near him he’ll kill him, Dotty.” You explain, leaving it at that before your looking at your oldest daughter, hardly recognising her. “Look, I dont wanna have this conversation again, so if you must go see him, by all means do so, but don't tell me about it when you do, because me and your father dont wanna know about it.” 

So Dot doesn't talk about it again. She never mentions it. She just keeps on keeping on with her bad attitude and her teenage angst. Until you get a message from Jake saying that Dots just left with Amelia to head up to the jail. Jake loved his wife to death but he hated that she’d offered to take Dot. he was seething. 

“This just isn't gonna go well Fe.” 

“I know.” You cried. Completely and utterly distressed while you sat on the floor in the shower in all your clothes, fighting off a full blown panic attack while the kids and Bradley were out. “I know but I can't not stop her from going.” 

***~***~***~***~***~***~***~

It's about an hour's drive. And the entire Time Dots’ palms were sweating. She had so many questions that needed answering. She can't remember Jaidyn or what he looked like, but when she sees him being led out in his orange jump suit in handcuffs? Her heart sinks into her stomach. Maybe this was a bad idea after all. It just became glaring obvious that her father was a criminal. 

“Odette Bradshaw.” Jaidyn is smiling ear to ear when he sits down across from his daughter for the first time since she was two. A total of forteen years had passed. “So, your mother did end up marrying him huh.” It made Jaidyn so mad to know he’d lost. 

“Yeah, I guess she did, hi dad.” Dot had dreamed of this day, she’d always wondered what her real dad was like, what he’d done to end up in prison. Braldey always responded with ‘He’s just not a good man Dotty’ which never gave her much to work with. 

“Hi baby, god look how much you've grown hey?” He wore a maniacal smile that for a second, creeped Dot out as she sat across from the man who had helped you create her. “I wish I was around to see you grow up, kid.” It was a lie, Jaidyn wished Odette was dead. But something inside him told him that you would have hated the fact she was here with him right now. “But your mother ran off with you when you were only two, took me ages to find you and when I did she’d already started dating–” Jaidyn pretended to forget Bradley's name. So Dot filled in the blanks. Falling into the trap so easily because she was so utterly desperate to find out who she was. 

“Bradley, she’d already started seeing Bradley.” 

“That's his name!” Jaidyn just smiled, overly ecstatic. “Yeah, wouldn't let me see you at all.” There's a silence between the pair of them as they sit in the monitored room with guards watching Jaidyn like a hawk, because they know what he tried to do to the little girl Dot used to be. But she's none the wiser thanks to you. 

“Dad, why did you sign your rights away?” Odette asked, leaning in as she spoke a little quieter because it felt illegal to question it. “Did you not want me? Or–” 

“I was made to, your mother made me sweetheart, she wanted a life with that Bradley fellow and she forced me to sign those papers. She didn't want me involved with your life and I regret not fighting harder for you.” 

“But why are you in prison?” 

“I was set up for something I didn't do sweetheart, but I think you should ask your mum about that. If you don't know why I'm here then I guess she hasn't told you the whole story.” But as Dot shook her head, Jaidyn knew he had her hook line and sinker–

And he had one final chance to fuck with you. 

***~***~***~***~***~***~***~

It's quiet in the car ride back home between Odette and her aunty Amilia. Dots hit her boiling point, she feels so utterly betrayed. She's sitting in the passenger's seat with her arms crossed looking out the window to hide the fact her bottom lip is quivering. 

She always knew you were hiding something but she never thought what you were hiding was that you’d set her dad up and forced him to sign his parental rights away. 

“Can you please keep the car running please?” Dot asked under her breath as she undid her seatbelt. Amilia just puts the car in neutral as she nods silently, sending her niece a soft smile of sympathy. Waiting for her to get out and march up to the house she couldn't stand to be in for a second longer with parents who’d lied to her her entire life. 

“Hey honey–” Amilia is greeting her husband over the phone. “I think Odette is coming back to stay with us tonight.” 

“I'm gonna tear that little pipsqueak a new one if she doesn't pull her bloody head in with all this crap baby.” Jakes pacing up and down the back deck back at home. He’s got a folder in his hand that explains everything. Jaidyns case file. The one that exposed you as the one thing you wanted to keep a secret from your daughter. 

That you were a victim of domestic abuse and attempted murder. 

“I said this wouldn't go well.” Amilia is taken aback when she hears shouting coming from inside the Bradshaw household. It's so loud that even Jake hears it on the other end of the line. “Holy fuck was that Dot?” 

“I think it was–but I can't be sure.” Amilia frowns. Deciding to stay in the car and wait for Odette to make her less than gracious return. 

“Dotty! Hey can you braid my hair for school tomorro–'' Riley is asking as Dot bursts through the front door, Odette just shoves at her younger sister till she's stumbling back. Dropping the brush she held out for Dot. 

“YOU LIED TO ME!! ABOUT EVERYTHING!” Odette is shouting at the top of her lungs. You just stare back at her with wide eyes as Nick, your eight year old, turns around to look at his older sister in complete shock from the spot on the floor in the living room he’d been playing his xbox at. YOU SAID HE DIDN'T WANT ME BUT HE DID!” 

“Honey, let's talk okay?” You try to reason with Odette as you take a step towards her, but all she does is shake her head as tears stream down her cheeks, stepping away from you to keep the distance between you. “Dot–?” 

“He told me that you took me from him, and when he finally found you after you ran away! That you'd already started dating Bradley!” 

“Who'd you take Odette from mum?” Nick is asking as he stood from where he’d been sitting on the ground. Dot just scoffs at you, watching as your eyes begin to fill with tears. You're shaking, so afraid of losing your daughter because you’d been too afraid to just own up and tell her the truth about it all, about everything her father did to you. 

“My real dad!” It's at this point Bradley is racing down the stairs after hearing Dot go off. He’s still putting a shirt over his head as he misses the last step. Slipping and stumbling before catching himself not so gracefully. “Because dad over here–” Dot spits in Bradley's direction as Riley and Nick look his way. “ISN'T MY REAL DAD!” 

It's the first time Nick and Riley ever hear that Bradley isn't Odette's biological dad and in the heavy silence that follows, they both erupt into tears. Not understanding what's happening and it breaks your heart. Your little family is being torn apart by a man you hadnt been in over forteen fucking years. 

“He’s a fake and a phoney and forced my real dad to sign his parental rights away because mum wanted to hurt him.” 

“That's enough young lady–” Bradley is squaring his shoulders and pointing a finger Dot's way. “You don't know a single thing about any of this–” Bradley doesnt want to raise his voice, he doesn't want to scare his children but the way he wanted to storm out the front door right now, grab Jake and storm that prison just to get rid of that son of a bitch once and for all was consuming him entirely. “You don't get to speak to your mother that way, or me.”

“Dad told me what you did to him!” Dots laughing at Bradley and in that moment you swear you see Jaidyn all over her sixteen year old face. “That you almost killed him and yet he’s the one rotting in prison for the rest of his life!” Bradley doesnt know what to say when he looks over at you with panic in his eyes, watching his son hug his mama because you're crying, watching as Riley stands clear away from everyone because she doesn't understand what's going on. “I hate you and I hate mum and I know everything I need to know to understand that you both lied to me for sixteen years–!” Odette steps towards Braldey who's still standing in the way of the stairs. “I'm going to get my stuff, I'm going to Uncle Jakes.” 

“Uncle Jake won’t put up with your attitude Odette.” Bradley hisses, stepping aside to watch his daughter stomp up the stairs. 

“I dont care, at least he won’t fucking lie to me like you two did.” 

***~***~***~***~***~***~***~

Jakes irate when his wife, Amilia Fisher-Seresin and his spawn of satan niece Odette Lillian Bradsahw are pulling up in the driveway. But, he's going to be the bigger person in all of this chaos. Jake knew why you didn't want to tell Dot about everything that happened–but he was going to because if he didnt? He was afraid that Dot would never quit this behaviour, this totally unreasonable moody teenage melodrama she’d been living in for the past two years. 

Someone had to tell her to pull her fucking head in, and if she wasn’t about to listen to you or Bradley? like fuck was she about to not about to sit and listen to every word her dear old Uncle Jake had to say. 

Jakes sitting on the front veranda when Dot steps out of his wifes black suzuki swift, Dot catches his gaze the second she's throwing her overnight bag over her slumped shoulders. He's got a six pack of Budweiser next to him, a bowl of salt and vinegar chips and a cream coloured folder that's full of all your deepest darkest secrets. 

Dot trudges her way over to Jake as Amilia stops to give her husband a kiss before leaving him to be the person Odette needed right now. A friend, someone to loop her in on the situation. 

“Before you yell at me for yelling at mum, just know, I don't care.” Dot mumbles as she drops her bag and plops down beside Jake. He doesn't say anything, but the corner of his lip turns upright into a barely there smirk. It vanishes seconds after when he realises what he's about to do. You might end up hating him for this, but then again, what are brothers for? 

“Grab a beer.” Jake reaches down to grab his own, twisting the top off before taking a sip, sighing as his back hits the back of the cushiony lounge that sits perched on the veranda. “Go on–” 

“I’m sixteen–” Dot’s still trying to pass herself off as the goody goody niece. But Jake cuts her off before she can get too far along with it. 

“Shut the fuck up kid, Roosters told me you’ve smoked pot together on the roof, I’m not stupid, I know you drink–” Jakes trusting a sixteen year old girl to not throw his ass under the bus and tell the authorities on him for providing a minor with alcohol. He could lose his job for this if he was found out. But as he takes another sip, he watches as Dot leans forwards–grabs the beer bottle, and cracks the top off on the side of the small table that's holding the bowl of chips like a pro. She’d done this a million times before. 

“Did Rooster also tell you that he almost killed my dad?” Dot mumbles as her lips press against the dark glass of the beer she holds up. That's Jake's cue. He sits up, picks up the cream folder and hands it over to Dot. “What's this?” 

“Everything you’ll ever need to know about that dickhead you've been calling your real dad for the last couple of months when your dad’s been standing right in front of you.” Jake explains with a solemn tone. “You’re pissed because you think your mum hasn’t been telling you the truth, but that's not true–she hasn't been lying to you Dot, but she's too scared to tell you the whole truth because she thinks you’ll think she's weak.” 

“Mums a lot of things but being weak isn’t one of them.” Dot snickers, taking a sip before she's putting her beer down on the table, sitting back and opening the folder. Her eyes scan the photos that fall out into her lap. There's pictures of you, battered and bruised. There's pictures of Bradley, beaten half to death. And there's a photo of Dot, being held in Jake's arms in a towel, soaking wet, it looks like she's screaming in the picture. “What are these?” 

“Jaidyn Dolan is in jail for assault and battery, murder, attempted murder and commision of domestic violence in the presence of a child.” Jake Seresin had memorised those charges ever since he’d first heard them. It was like a lullaby to him nowadays. Those words soothed his soul to repeat, hell he wanted to engrave them on a plaque somewhere just to commemorate the momentous day that was Jaidyns sentencing. “Should be a lot more but that's just the charges they could get him on while he was in North Island, none of that accounts for the fact he used to be your mother black and blue when she was pregnant with you, the daughter he actually asked her to abort.” 

“Why has mum not told me any of this?” Dot asked, completely stunned as she trailed her fingertips over the picture of your younger self, she hardly recognised you. 

“Like I said honey–” Jake sighed, taking a sip of his beer as he pushed his hair from his face. “She didn't want you to feel sorry for her, she didn't want to and still doesn't want to be seen as weak.”

“He said Brad dad tried to kill him? Is that true?” Dot asked as she turned her attention to the report, reading bits and pieces of the faithful night that made her want to throw up.  

“Dadliey did.” Jake confirmed. “But only after Jaidyn tried to kill you.” 

Dot sat with her Uncle for about three hours, reading, listening, crying because she knew she broke your heart by even asking to go see that awful man who’d used her to get to you just one final time. The final twist in the metaphorical knife that would let you know he won. He was always going to win. 

“Holy shit I need to go home and apologise–” Dot sobbed as she whipped her tears, she’d had three beers by the time her deep and meaningful with Uncle Jake was over. “I need to go ho-home.” When Odette went to stand, she stumbled forward, unable to use her legs to support the eight of the world that had come crashing down around her. God she’d been such a dick to you, to Bradley. All you ever did was love her, protect her, and she'd just been throwing all that back in your face. 

Jake just sighed, watching as Odette cried her heart out on his veranda, crouching down beside her to rub small circles against her back. 

“I think you should give your parents some space for the night Dot, post up in the spare room, think about how much crap you've given them over the last few months, and when you do go home tomorrow, you can hash it out with them with a clear head.” 

“They’re gonna hate me forever.” Dot cried as she fell into her Uncle's chest. Jake just held her in his arms as she did, letting her let it all out in a safe environment. “Oh my god poor mum–!” 

“Please for the love of god dont say poor mum to your mother kid she’ll have me castrated on site.” Jake chuckles as he kissed his niece's forehead. “And no darlin, they could never ever hate you.” 

***~***~***~***~***~***~***~

When Dot does arrive home the next day, Jake is dropping her off with a hangover that makes him question his own morals. Odettes almost as bad as Jake, she's wearing sunglasses because the suns far too bright and her head is pounding like crazy. 

“Hey Dot?” Jake's groaning, letting his head rest against the steering wheel of his wifes swift. 

“Yeah?” 

“Start pulling your head in before I shove my foot so far up your ass you’ll taste my shoe.” 

“On it–” Dots groaning back, she feels like death. But the self pity drinking she’d done with her Uncle late into the night wasn't going to help her now when she had to face her parents. So, she's fronting a brave face, dragging her feet through the threshold of the front door and into an eerily silent home she wasn't used to. She spots Riley at the dining table doing her homework. “Where is everyone?” 

“Nicks at soccer practice, it's Monday.” Riley doesn't even look up from what she's doing. “Not that you'd care anywhere, dad and I just got back from the beach because the swell was up.” 

“What about mum?” Dot mumbles as she drops her stuff, heading in the direction of the stairs. Riley just sighs, she's still mad at her older sister for making you cry. 

“Mums been in bed all day.” Guess Uncle Jake wasn't the only one who called in for a sick day. “Dad said she just needed a day to be by herself.” 

“Seems fair enough—“ Is all Dot manages to mumble as Riley looks at her like she doesn’t know who her sister is anymore. 

“Hey Odette?” 

“Hmm?” Dot looked over her shoulder. 

“Dad told me and Nick last night you have a different dad than us.” Riley confessed as she stood up from her spot at the dining table, collecting her work before she made her way over to the staircase that Dot had already started walking up. “And if you’re gonna keep treating him like he hasn’t been the best dad ever then I’m glad you aren’t really his.” Dot’s stunned to hear her twelve year old sister say something so confronting, but she knows she deserves it. 

“Thanks Rils, I’m sorry—“ 

“Don’t say you're sorry to me.” Riley sighs, stomping up the stairs with her homework. “Say you’re sorry to mum and dad.” 

Which is what Odette does. But it’s not an easy feat. She knocks on your bedroom door and there’s no answer. When she pushed the door open slowly? Odette is met with a darkness she’s never really seen your room shrouded in before. You and Bradley always seemed to have the curtains drawn—but right now? Dots stepping into your depression pit. Finding you still in your pyjamas, in the middle of the bed laying on your side, still teary eyed and full of sadness because this all could have been avoided if you’d just stuck to your guns and told her no. Or told her the truth for that matter. 

“Mum?” Bradley’s in the bathroom trimming his moustache, he can hear Dot talking apprehensively before she shuts the door behind her. “Mum, can I talk to you for a minute?” 

Bradley’s heart breaks a little more inside his chest when he doesn’t hear you answer, he hadn’t seen you like this since right after everything happened. The version of you who laid in the middle of the bed without speaking a peep all day was the same version of you Bradley Bradshaw first met when he came face to face with you in the threshold of Jake Seresin home when he’d come to check on him. The broken version. 

“I spoke with Uncle Jake—“ Oh fuck this can’t be good. Bradley thought to himself as Dot crawled up the bed into your arms. Nuzzling into you as Bradley stepped out of the bathroom with a towel slung low on his hips and a half shaved moustache. “He told me everything, about what happened—“ 

And with that you're bursting into tears, Bradley dips a knee on the bed as he leans in to hold you, but all you do is hold onto Odette a little tight as she cries with you too, hiding her head in your chest. 

“I’m so sorry—“ You sob, kissing her forehead. “I never wanted you to have to know.”

“No I’m glad I know, I’m so fucking sorry mum, dad—“ 

“You’re so grounded—“ You chuckle out through a whimper, still kissing Dot's cheek. “Like forever.” All Odette does is hug you tighter, accepting her punishment without a single complaint. 

“I expected that.”

***~***~***~***~***~***~***~***~***~***~****~***

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Still Wednesday for me and chapter 52 of American Beasts has been kicking my ass, struggling with writing Kit coming to terms with her being in love. It's hard to write a deranged individual having an emotional epiphany. Anyways...here's the first bit of the chapter:

Hours of surgery, flayed flesh and sutures. Heart rate crashing, blood pressure falling. The bullet removed from tissue, dropped into the tray with a metallic clang. Tools dripping with blood. Iodine and alcohol perfuming the air. He was finally stable and she was still on her feet. A tube shoved into his chest, the air pumped out of the cavity for him by a machine. Kit couldn’t help but scoff at the irony of the situation, a man who had only ever spoken of how medicine and technology made mankind weaker, and here he was being kept alive by the very thing he spoke of hating. She was sure he would hold it against her for denying his words, but she didn’t much care, he could stay angry with her. She got what she wanted, denying him his need for sacrifice once more. He could bear it, just like she could bear the brunt of his rage. Some sacrifices were well worth making. 

Kit stood by the side of Jacob’s medical bed, staring down at him, watching his chest rise and fall like she had done a dozen times before. The way she always had when they were in bed together. Her comfort. Her home. Her will was done. The bruises on his chest and around the lung he nearly lost acted as a reminder of her own wounds that still needed to be treated, but still she watched. The same concerned gaze of a mother with her newborn and that fear that if she turned away his breath would falter and he would be lost to her forever. 

Morrison entered the room and her pale eyes lifted for just a moment before falling right back to the Herald. He stood there silently, unsure of how to break the bind she had placed upon herself to stand at the Herald’s side. Clearing his throat, he drew closer to the bed and rubbed at his stubble on his jaw. “Now that he’s stable, think I might be allowed to take a look at you?”

“I’m fine.”

“Didn’t sound that way when he made his way out to come get you.”

Sighing as she placed her hand on Jacob’s arm, her fingers traced small circles along his broken skin, over every rough patch of inflamed flesh and raised bump of scar tissue, ingraining it in her memory. She had come so very close to losing him, to being alone again…that was the scariest thought of all. 

“It’s my obligation to look after you.” His eyes fell to his patient. “He wouldn’t be too happy knowing I didn’t take care of you. He’s not going anywhere, I promise, sister.”

She took a deep breath and stepped back towards the other bed, feeling as though she was dragging a ball and chain with her, breaking some sort of duty she had to uphold as Jacob’s watchful guardian. Taking a seat on the bed, she kept her eyes focused on the other redhead in the room, not making any movement to help the medic and his desire to fix her. 

“You mind taking off the coat and sweater?”

Rolling her eyes, she stripped off her coat and laid it on the bed beside her, the inner lining of it stained with dried blood. Her sweater below was just as tainted with the remnants of her seeping wound and the sweat that poured from her, a hole ripped through the fibers allowing the white of her bandage to show through. Grunting and groaning as she rolled the sweater up her body, careful with her movements so as not to reopen her wound in her chest as she pulled it over her head. 

Morrison stopped and stared at her as her sweater came off, her chest bruised in shades of indigo, dappled in blue and purple and green. His mouth sat agape as he brought his hand to his brow to rub at it absent-mindedly as she peeled back the thick bandage she had used to cover the wound.  “I don’t know how the hell you keep managing to live,” he muttered in disbelief. “You got one hell of a guardian angel.”

Kit sighed, looking down at the loosely stitched hole in her chest, more poorly darned than a pair of old socks, the skin very clearly inflamed and angry around it.  Gripping at the thin mattress of the medical bed, she mumbled her words out towards the floor, “You have no idea.”

His eyes lifted from her wound to gaze back into hers, into the cold and empty stare as he brought the tray of tools closer to himself. “You know, I listen to the Father’s sermons sometimes, the ones about you, he says that God sent you to us. That you were a sign of the end, but also of the beginning. Judgement and divine wrath and all that.”

She huffed out a laugh, “I don’t know how divine all my wrath has been to be quite honest.”

“Whatever the case may be, something is looking out for you, and they are working overtime. If the sinners can’t see that, well, maybe they don’t deserve to be saved.” He paused and looked at her as he snipped open the sutures she had sewn in earlier. “You know for the first time in a long time since I joined the family, I understand. I believe again. Joseph is our prophet, he hears the lord, Jacob is like the mighty sword of Michael, and John is well…he's John. But you, you just can't be stopped, you keep fighting. I’ve never seen anything like it. You’ve been shot, stabbed, starved…You just might be a sign from God that there is a plan for us after all.”

Her eyes fell, she’d never heard herself spoken of that way by a follower. She had always been looked upon with fear and intimidation. A presence that bent people to her will because they were more fearful of the repercussions that came if they didn’t. It was never hope or belief. It was the same way she had always viewed her father, not with trust or love, but with the tiptoeing of a child afraid of meeting his ire.

“You’re not used to folks talking about you that way, are you? You’re a little more used to being seen as dangerous, something to keep content.”

She flexed her shoulders, the crunch and pop of tired joints the soundtrack to just how worn out she had become. Having acted as a protector to both sides, an angel of destruction and violence – wrath – she was feeling the brunt of it in every twinge that shot through her as the medic’s rough hands started to press at her tender flesh. “Ever since hell seemed to rain down upon this county…being given people’s hope…blind faith…I just don’t see how I deserve it.”

Morrison’s brow lifted as he continued to survey her injuries and the rush job she had done patching it up. “Y’know, in my experience, It’s usually the people who don’t think they deserve it that carry the most weight, they’re the ones who can handle the struggle.”

Her brow lifted, something in that tone, in those words – it bordered on heresy. There was one person in all of Hope County who believed he could take on the world in order to save it, who believed it was his God given right to do so. He deserved to lead people into the Garden, to have them join his family, to bear the weight of sin…

“Be careful what you say,” her tone was chilly enough to send a visible shiver down the medic’s spine. 

He took his hands off of her and backed up, wary of the Lion’s bite. “I’m only saying there’s a reason why the Father called upon you, sister. I mean nothing else.” His gaze shifted to his tools as his way out and then glanced back at her. “I’m gonna have to take a look at you proper to get that bullet out. Gonna need to put you under.”

“No.”

“What the hell d’you mean ‘no’?”

“I need to be awake for him.” She tilted her head in Jacob’s direction as he continued to lie in his unconscious state. 

“Well I have to give you some sort of anesthetic, it’s gonna hurt like a motherfucker if I don’t.”

The medic looked at her like she was a mad woman. As if the idea of her wanting to be aware was some unhinged or deranged notion. It didn’t much matter to her what he thought, she knew what she wanted. She wanted to be clear. 

“No anesthetic,” she snarled. “Save it for someone who needs it.”

She couldn’t be numb, she refused to be any longer. She wanted to feel every burst of pain that exploded through her nerves like a bombshell. Every beat of her heart as it raced and the cold sweat soaked her skin. Every wave of nausea that battered her like the shore in a storm, wracked with shudders that would make her entire body recoil. Anything was better than that empty nothingness she lived with for years while pretending to be sane in a world so devoid of logic or sense that it seemed as though everyone had been driven mad, there were just layers to it. Any reminder that she was alive, and so was he.

“I don’t wanna kill ya.”

“You already said I had something looking out for me,” she challenged him, staring straight into Morrison’s eyes as she cocked her brow. Kit knew she would win. 

His heavy sigh and slumped shoulders were enough to prove he had already rolled over to his whims. “Lay back.”

Rolling her legs up onto the bed, her muddy boots littering the bedding with streaks of thick dirt, Kit rested her head back and turned to look over at Jacob, the muscles at the back of her jaw tightening as she clenched it. Moving her hands to her belt, she unfastened it, pulling it from the loops, the soft jingling of metal filling the room. Folding it over, she brought it to her mouth and stuck it between her teeth to bite down on. It wouldn’t dull the pain, but it would help her through it, give her something to focus on. 

Her frozen stare landed on the medic that stood beside her, and with a nod of her head, he was given the go ahead to start her surgery. Kit couldn’t help but bring her attention back to Jacob, her eyes glued to him, even as the scalpel slipped through her skin, making a larger incision in her chest. As the blade dragged through her flesh, her eyes fluttered shut, her teeth digging into the supple leather below. She could take it, she could handle the pain. She was strong. 

The sharp stinging  that built from the side of her breast bone flared across her chest like wildfire, and her back arched as she screamed around the leather belt in her mouth, her nails digging into the bed she laid upon. She bit down harder and tears stung at the corners of her eyes, making her blue eyes bloodshot. 

“Sorry, ‘bout that.”

She shivered as her back lowered back against the thin mattress, her breath shallow. 

“I’m not gonna dig around for the bullet, at this point I’ll do more damage than good trying to get it out o’ you. Body will heal around it.”

More scar tissue added to the ever growing list inside and outside of her. Sometimes it felt like that was all she was. Marred by it. Wounds healed and opened over and over again, thickened until they were numb and harder to tear. She had always hated the scars that she carried after Afghanistan. Five years of fighting and they were all she had to show for it. Yet in just a few short months in Montana she carried more evidence of being a soldier in the war for the lives and souls of Hope County’s residents than she thought possible. Bullet and arrow entry and exit wounds, the sin she was forced to bear, two sets of torn open knuckles, and the word she had asked to be branded with. His word – Sacrifice. 

“Gonna seal up some of the torn muscles inside for you and then properly close the wound. It’s not gonna be pretty.”

It was the end of the world as they all knew it. What did she care? She wasn’t there to win the hearts and minds of people by being the pretty face to tempt or convince. She wasn’t John or Faith. She was the Lion. Scars were what made her who she was. Jacob had scars and it had never bothered her. Scars like this weren’t meant to be covered or hidden, they weren’t a source of shame. They were a sign of strength.

[iznsfw]

hi, can u write a wonyoung x male reader fluff?

Even Princesses Cry Sometimes

IZ Days of Christmas: Day 12 - Jang Wonyoung

IVE's Jang Wonyoung x Male/Female Reader Fluff

2,123 words

Categories | short, slightly angsty, idol!Wonyoung, caring!reader, tears and cuddles

Very short and late, but who cares?

Maybe I'll catch up with Yujin and Yuri some of these days.

It’s always another day, another front she’s putting up. Another disguise. Of course, only you know about the partial artificiality of it all. When she tries to put on a brave face throughout her schedules, or tells a particularly rude fan to take care of themself despite their scathing words, part of your heart just aches with the knowledge. Like you, she’s still so young - no eighteen-year-old has to bear with the pressure of the world burdening their shoulders like rocks. 

No eighteen-year-old has gone through as much as Jang Wonyoung has. You want to make it easier for her, but she almost never lets you. She’s built such a great wall around herself that even you, her partner, can’t break through. Even if you summoned all the might into your fists and beat around its bricks, it would take long before you can even make a hole.

For the wall to be broken, the one who built it must reach out.

Gaze at the television and wonder when that will happen. It’s rarer than anything. But there she stands, gorgeous as always. Her dark hair flows in the night, and the blue dress that drapes around her form makes her look like a princess. With the colors and her makeup, she can easily pass as a Korean Cinderella. No, she can’t be Cinderella - Wonyoung never needs someone to save her. She was never a damsel in distress, which is why she’s expressed her dislike for the tale so many times:

(“It’s so… fucking odd, jagi-ya,” laughed Wonyoung, over a pack of potato salted-egg chips, while she lounged with you on the sofa. The TV was on, the classical Cinderella was playing, and Wonyoung was… well, unimpressed. She ran through her locks of messy curled hair and added, “I understand the situation. I really do—”

“You don’t,” you interrupted truthfully, but not without a smile. Oh, never without a smile; Wonyoung is your happy pill, no matter what she says.

Wonyoung laughed loudly, pushing you in the chest hard. Laughter overtook her tiny frame. “Fine, fine!” she admitted. “I don’t, but see here… this is fucking ridiculous. It’s just- ugh!” She rolled her eyes and gave you an exasperated look. “But you get me, don’t you? You get what I mean?”

There was a hint of fear in those beautiful eyes of hers. Something told you that the question was born not out of frustration, but was instead from caution nested in the swindle of circumstance the universe had blown her to. Was Wonyoung afraid she would offend you? Had the headlines and tabloid articles created a phobia she’d never dare tell anyone - not even you?

But then your lips found her forehead creased with lines of worry, and you felt them relax beneath the touch of your love. Wonyoung settled into your arms as if she were your little songbird, and you were the only nest she found that would not break.

 “I do, hon,” you told her. “I do.”)

Fine, you’d settle for her being no one because not one princess out there can match Wonyoung in everything she does. She’s the perfect girl, the perfect idol. She’s pretty, talented, and charismatic enough to attract all of her success by herself. No girl her age is at the point of success she has at her fingertips. But it’s something that can easily be snatched from her with just the wrong move. Everyday is a challenge for her; too much smiling equals to her being too flirtatious, but little smiling and winks mean that she’s too reserved and self-centered to take notice of the people around her. In everything she does, begrudged people find a way to twist it around into a bad light. 

You admire how resilient she is. Much to the shock of her admirers and fanatics, it isn’t exactly ideal to live a life being so closely watched. Not even with all the wealth she possesses. The way she has learned to cope with it independently teaches you more life lessons than any seminar could. But you want to remind her sometimes that she doesn’t have to be strong all the time with you. You can take her falls. You have each other, don’t you? Isn’t that what partners are for?

The fall of the princess is televised, put out there for everyone to pick apart and make fun of. Worst of all, you aren't able to catch her.

-

Wonyoung is happy to find out that her group, the monster rookie idol band IVE, won a lot of medals and marked new milestones. But now tears slip down her beautiful face. The camera focuses on her. It loves her, craves her - every bit of Jang Wonyoung is too pretty to not be captured and immortalized; of course it does. She sees it and tries to stop, but the fat drops of grief - grief for what could have been, what should have been; grief for her young self who wasn’t and isn’t able to enjoy the last few years of her childhood - continue to pour down like rain. 

As the colorful confetti falls from the roof of the grand stadium, she falls, too, and the members start to take notice. Yujin leans over to ask if she needs a tissue, and Jiwon rubs a comforting hand on her back. But none quench the need for a hug she has buried deep inside her heart. She needs someone beyond her friends slash co-workers. She needs you.

Wonyoung looks around. There are only crowds and crowds of noisy fans and cameras flashing. But her observant eyes scrutinize every corner in the large room for any sign of you. There’s still hope in her heart that you’ll come dashing into the show to help her. Sort of like a knight in shining armor in a children’s fairy tale. 

Jagi-ya? Where are you? I need you right now, please. You can’t leave me here.

Then she remembers: her life may be glamorous, but it isn’t a fairytale. She’s only one girl, in a massive crowd of people she doesn’t know, trying to make it through the night. Her thoughts are making it more than difficult though. They consist of the pain she went through to get here: those dark nights where she practiced till her legs felt like they were going to snap, the harsh scolding she received from teachers, days when her schedules were so packed that she didn’t even have the time to eat or even breathe…

Wonyoung’s makeup is stained with her own sadness. She’s gorgeous - that’s an indisputable fact, she’s talented, she’s young and successful. But what are the hardships she had to bear and all its blooming fruits worth if she doesn’t have you?

She’s torn up from the inside. She needs you now, more than anything, yet you are nowhere to be found. But it isn’t your fault. She’s been too reserved and private after all, dealing with her matters and affairs by herself. It’s only natural that you would think that she can handle her tears. Compared to everything she has to handle, tears are merely a little thing. You’re already used to the idea of her being self-reliant, so why would you show up now?

Her phone buzzes all of a sudden. One click at the side of the costly phone case, she’s able to see your messages.

You | 11:47 PM | Hey, princess?

You want to take the night off a little early? Watch some clueless? :) 

-

And she thought you’d never come. 

Wonyoung crashes between your rounded arms. This time, you don’t worry about messing up her hair, which must have taken hours to curl. You don’t hold yourself back from taking her in your arms, although the stylists warned her not to ruin the pretty blue dress. No, you bury your face into her neck, kissing it over and over. You’re happy to see her; only meeting her less these past few weeks has made you lonelier than you’d like to admit. And you know that she’s happy too; her tearful, beautiful eyes sparkle when she gazes up at you. But you also know that, although she would rather die than admit it, she’s been missing the comfort of someone caring for her.

She’s a princess, and you’re her knight in shining armor. Wonyoung rarely needs you, much less a knight to come save her. But she appreciates your love. She’ll hide it behind blushes and playful circles of her eyes, but she loves you. It comforts her that you do, too.

People are staring. The cameras start flashing. The same fear gathers up in Wonyoung’s heart again, but this time, she shoves it aside. She’s not going to hide her love for you anymore. She won’t let anyone get in her way.

The wall has finally broken and deteriorated. 

Wonyoung seizes your face in between her slim hands, and kisses you deeply. It surprises you; her full lips are extremely soft, brushing over your pink ones and locking them with hers. Her eyes close, but your eyelids remain parted. This time, you’re the one scared. You aren’t scared of your own reputation, but for Wonyoung. What will the media do when they find out she has a partner already? Oh, how they’d villainize her! How they’d paint her into a promiscuous, indifferent queen bee!

“W-Wonyoung,” you stammer, when she finally stops. “The, the media—”

“Darling, please. I don’t care anymore. I just want you.”

Her words feed into a phone-installed recorder nearby. The woman holding it looks horrified, but Wonyoung simply gives her a coy wink. You smile; that’s the Jang Wonyoung you know.

You smile sincerely. Brush the tears from her face with your thumb, and realize just how much you love Wonyoung. It’s like destiny tied your threads together from the beginning. You were just a fan of her back in Produce 48 because you love how brave she was to put herself out there, despite being your age only. Hell, you couldn’t do that. When she met you at  a fanmeeting and discreetly passed you her number, you were on top of the world. It was straight out of a fanfiction.

But all fanfictions end. That can’t be said about you and her. You’re best friends, lovers, and frenemies all at once. Your relationship is built around deep friendship, and that’s why you’re certain that the love you share with Wonyoung will go on forever. 

“That’s my girl,” you whisper, kissing her forehead. It’s only you and her in this stadium. All the others are faceless ghosts, nothing to worry about. “Movie night?”

Wonyoung smiles giddily. “You bet!”

-

For the first time in years, Wonyoung completely cuddles up in your lap. Thank your parents for having tall genes; if you were any shorter than Wonyoung, you would be the one seated in her lap. It would be the other way around. 

You still keep CDs, so you’re able to watch Clueless with her on the television. She’s raptly watching the iconic chick flick, mimicking the main character with “As if!”s and laughing afterwards. But you’re more interested in her rather than the film itself. Wonyoung is the prettiest when she’s happy. The companies love her trendy poses when she shoots magazine covers or photos, but her most charming self is this:

Half-moon eyes, mouth stretched into a giggly grin, and her hand becoming the resting place of her cheek as she laughs over and over at the comedic timings of the movie. Her brown hair in its uncurled natural state resting at her shoulders, which are not trapped in one of the stage outfits anymore, but rather a big, gray sweatshirt that was once yours. You want it back, but she looks better in it than you do, so you speak nothing about it.

Wonyoung falls asleep just when Clueless is about to reach its conclusive end. With strong, trained arms, you carry her over to your shared bed and tuck her to bed. She stirs a little, but she doesn’t open her eyes. She only smiles, knowing you have her back now, and beckons you under the sheets.

Slide under the comforter and wrap a protective arm around her. Moments like these make you happily remember that Jang Wonyoung isn’t merely just an idol, but your girlfriend. Your little spoon. Your baby rabbit. At the same time, you match all her curved puzzle pieces, and act the role of being her partner, big spoon, and a caring person who won’t let any hunter find her. 

You’re made for each other. And as you snuggle closer to Wonyoung, your puzzle pieces connect. You promise, silently, to never let go.

[dsireland86]

There is Beauty in the Pain Chapter 5 Pt.3 18+ below the cut

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Noah: The darkness. It had a tendency to be a friend when needed, but most of the time it was a threat to the disheveled mind. It could swallow up the strongest person and bend them to its will in a heartbeat. I felt that the darkness was following Sophie and what it was dragging her through was only a shadow of what was to come. The moment she unlocked her apartment and opened the door, I knew something was wrong. I could sense it. Whatever we were about to find was going to do more harm than good, I was certain Sophie wasn’t prepared for it.

“Wait,” I said, bracing my arm against her chest. “What?” I heard the panic in her voice. “Turn the light on before you walk, please,” I asked, looking down at her. “Okay,” she nodded, worry written all over her face. 

I wasn’t trying to scare her; just protect her. Bright light filled the room instantly revealing the nasty hidden secret I knew was lurking behind the darkness. The excessive damage was everywhere. Sophie’s entire apartment was trashed. Broken furniture, holes in the wall, personal items strewn all over the floor; it was a mess. The sight made me nauseous. It was a clear message from Perry, one of manipulation and control. He did to fuck with her head, knowing it was going to hurt her. In fact I was positive  he was counting on it. 

I looked over at Sophie and saw her crying. The silent tears that rolled down her cheeks and dripped from her chin onto the carpet below felt like sharp pins to my heart, piercing and pricking every inch of it. The sight of her hurting was slowly breaking me. I was trying to keep my feelings out of it, but with the amount of anger coursing through my veins, it was hard to. I clenched my fists, digging my nails into the skin of my palms to suppress the emotions. Sophie needed me clear headed 

I took a few deep breaths, unclenching my fists, and placed them on Sophie’s shoulders instead. She was trembling, engulfed by the feelings of fear and confusion, no doubt. Her quiet whimpers soon turned into loud sobs as she dropped her face into her hands. I wrapped my arms around her in hopes to give her some kind of comfort and sighed when she threw her arms around me, clinging to me desperately. Her small hands gripped the sides of my shirt, squeezing and pulling me against her like she was trying to escape into me somehow. She didn’t want to be here anymore, and I instantly regretted bringing her.

“Hey, look at me,” I wiped her eyes with my thumbs, drying the tears that didn't need to be there the moment she raised her head. “You’re okay, just breathe, Sophie, just breathe,” I encouraged her. “Noah,” she choked on a sob, “I don’t understand this,” she cried, burying her face in my chest again.  “I don’t either,” confessing as I laid my cheek against the top of her head. I couldn’t wrap my head around any of it. I thought I was the only one who met someone that was capable of being so vile, so disgusting, so fucked up. 

With the many unsettled emotions resting in the pit of my stomach, I was afraid Sophie could sense the tension in me. The only thing she deserved feeling right now was safety and I needed to be the one that made her feel it. I needed her to know I wasn’t going anywhere, that I wasn’t going to leave her. 

The feeling of our bodies against one another helped ease the tension in the midst of the chaos and the longer we held each other, the easier it was for the both of us to calm down. It was kind of crazy to think how quickly she was becoming my peace and I was her becoming her warmth and together we were creating a world around us that only we knew; a world that was our secret place, with understanding and respect. 

It was a a place where we were free to be who we were on the inside no matter how fucked up it was.   After some time, Sophie’s tears stopped and she released the grip she had on me, freeing our bodies.   The sudden loss of feeling her in my arms didn’t seem right to me. It felt strange and I didn’t like it.

“Noah, are you okay?” she asked, puzzled.  “Yeah, I’m fine,” I lied, forcing a fake smile.

But the skepticism in her eyes told me that she didn’t believe me. Running her hands over her head and down the side of her face, as if it would help her think better, showed how stressed out she was.

“Hey, I know this looks bad,” I said, draping my arm around her shoulder. She moved closer, nestling herself perfectly in the crook of my arm, and that familiar warmth returned, making my heart feel at peace again. She glanced up at me with a small smile.

I caressed her cheek with my thumb, running it over her jawline, and I suddenly ached to feel her lips again. I saw the worry and fear, the tiredness and exhaustion in her eyes that told me she needed all the reassurance I could give her that this mess was going to work out; that there was a silver lining.

“This is fixable, you know that right? I know it’s your stuff, but we can replace most of it.” Sophie nodded, taking a quick deep breath and letting it out slowly.

“I just don’t get it, Noah. I gave Perry everything. Every single part of me. I loved him, and I was stupid enough to believe him when he said he loved me, too. So, how could he do this to me?” Her voice choked up as the tears threatened to fall again. 

“Sophie, I know you think Perry loved you, but he didn't. You were just his backup plan. He used you and how he treated you should tell you how he really felt about you. You deserve better. You deserve to be more than just somebody's backup plan.”

“Noah, I struggle with believing what I deserve when all of my life, I've never had anyone to tell me. My parents are dead and I'm an only child. Perry was the first person, other than Alex, to make me feel like I mattered, like I wasn’t invisible anymore. Even if it wasn't the ideal situation, at least the attention I got was something.” 

“Are you serious? Sophie, you realize that what Perry has done to you is classified as abuse right? He’s a fucking abuser. He abuses you in every sense of the word! He is a psychopath who loves to watch you hurt and could care less about the pain and torture he puts you through. Sophie, what you're saying is that even though he does these horrible things to you, at least he's giving you attention. Is that what you really believe? Is that all the value you have for yourself?”

“I don't know what I believe anymore, Noah! I don't know who I am or why I'm even here anymore, "she yelled at me, throwing her hands up. “I don’t understand one fucking bit why any of this shit happened to me. What did I do to deserve any of this? What did I do to God to make him hate me so much that this is what my life has become? I have no one; nothing. I’m so alone, Noah and it’s killing me.”

Sophie threw her hands to her face, sobbing. She was breaking down just the way I was afraid she would. I wanted to comfort her, but space was important. She needed a moment to process how she was feeling.

“If I believe what you just asked me, Noah, then what does that make me? Weak? Stupid? A fucking masochist?” She sniffled, wiping her nose with the end of her shirt. I shook my head.

“It makes you none of those things, only human. And you're not expected to be more or feel more than human,” I assured her, reaching my hand out to her. She looked at me, eyes wet and puffy and her expression twisted in confusion. But she took my hand, letting me lead her back into my arms where I held her tightly close, cradling the back of her head.

Sophie stayed curled up in my arms even after her breathing slowed and her body relaxed. I didn’t know what else to say to her to make her understand that what had happened to her wasn’t her fault. 

“I feel like everything is falling apart faster than I can pick up all the pieces, Noah. I feel like Perry is never going to regret all the damage and pain he’s caused.” “He won’t. They never do.” Sophie pulled back, looking up at me. “Sounds like you speak from experience,” she pointed out.

“I do. I’ve been hurt, too, Sophie. I understand what you’re going through more than you know. Perry used you. For his own fucked up pleasure, he destroyed you, broke you, and left you with such a massive hole in your heart, you think it’s impossible for anyone to fill it. I see it, every time I look at you. I see the panic, the anxiety. I see how you fight with the demons in your head. I see you, and I understand, because that’s how I feel, too and it’s a really hard struggle that no one who doesn’t go through it understands. There's this massive hole in me, Sophie, that’s all consuming but never filling, and it’s all because of a girl who I believed loved me more than her own life, but only found out she loved herself more.” 

I felt that magnetic pull between us again. I lowered my face, unable to stop myself from kissing Sophie, breathing in deeply the moment our lips touched. She didn’t flinch or pull away from me, but instead slid her arms around my torso the moment she shifted so she could kiss me better. All of my senses were on fire, coming alive as our bodies melted into each other.

“I'm sorry,” apologizing when we parted. Sophie didn’t give me a chance to say anything else before bringing her lips to mine again, wrapping her arms around my neck. Her hand ran up the back of my neck and into my hair, clenching a handful gently in her hands. The gesture pulled a low groan from deep inside my chest, making the resistance against her impossible.

We parted, but didn't let go of each other. Sophie laid her head on my chest and I covered her, like a blanket, with my arms, pressing her head against me. I kissed the top of her head, closing my eyes for a moment.

“Sometimes, when my heart gets too heavy with pain, I think I’m not capable of love.”  “Is that what you really believe, or is that just what you tell yourself because you’re afraid?” “Afraid of what?” “Afraid to come to terms with the fact that your heart has lied to you.” “Probably.” “I think you’re afraid you might push the wrong person away, because that person might actually want to be with you. I think you’re afraid to open up and accept love because you believe you’re not worthy of love.”

Sophie lifted her head, her sweet face staring up at me. Softly, I caressed her cheek, trailing my thumb over her lips.

“You've been told all your life that love is supposed to hurt, but it’s not. Love is never meant to hurt. It’s supposed to heal, to be a haven from misery, to make living worthwhile.” 

My eyes searched hers looking for any sign that my words might have helped her see a little clearer.  “I don't want to hurt you, Sophie.” “I don’t want to hurt you either, Noah.” I gave her a half smile which she returned. “Then tell me the truth. Tell me that you felt the same thing I did the other night at the show.”  I slid my hand behind her head and through her hair, gripping it lightly.

“That magnetic pull we both felt affected us in ways that don’t make any logical sense, but for some reason,” I told her, taking her face and holding her cheeks in my hands, pulling back to look her in the eyes, “I can’t stop.

In a span of just a few days, Sophie, you’ve gone from being a complete stranger to someone I can’t stop thinking about. When I realize I’m thinking about you, I wonder how long you’ve been on my mind. Then it occurs to me: since I’ve met you. I haven't stopped thinking about you.” 

My heart was pounding like a hammer against my chest. Sophie continued to stare at me, eyes wide and brows drawn together. 

“You’re right, Noah,” she confessed, dropping her gaze to the floor. “I am afraid. I know we both felt the same thing that night. I know there's something happening between us that neither one of us can explain.”

She placed her hand gently on my arm, making me shiver. Her touch on my skin was like ice to fire; piercing yet invigorating. I sucked in a breath, holding it tightly when she ran that same hand up my chest, leaving it to rest right below my throat. The soft touch of her fingertips grazed over my Adam's apple, making me shiver. I swallowed hard, peering down at her. Taking a slow, deep breath, Sophie laid her forehead against my chest.

“You want the truth?” “Yeah, I want the truth; always. I can handle it.” She raised head, eyes darting between mine.

“Nobody has ever cared before, Noah. I’ve never had anyone tell me that I was important. So, why should I believe my life, my existence would matter to you? To someone I barely know, who has the ability to have anything and anyone he wants? A girl like me doesn’t deserve what a guy like you has to give. It’s that simple.” 

Sophie patted my chest and backed away, leaving me once again, feeling empty and cold. There was some truth to her words; words that I tried not to feel hurt by. She still wasn’t seeing how much I cared for her, how much she really did matter to not just me, but to Nick, Jolly, Folio, and even Matt now, too. Her presence in the last week had brought something to all of our lives that none of us knew we needed. Sophie mattered to so many of us now, but mostly to me.

“Alright, fair enough. I see your point. But now I need you to see mine, okay?”

“Okay, I’m listening.” A small smile graced her lips, making me lick my own and run my hand through my hair out of nervous habit.

“Have you ever just looked at somebody and it’s like your soul aches to touch them?”

Sophie narrowed her eyes, grinning slightly. “Yes, I have,” she answered quickly. I smiled and released a chuckle while rubbing the back of my neck.

“Okay, good, because that’s what it feels like every time I look at you. I don't know why. I can't explain it and I know how fucking crazy it sounds.”

I was worried that I had thrown my feelings out too fast and was expecting her to deal with them. I was worried she was going to run. She barely had her head above water at the moment, and here I was adding more pressure to her plate. 

At least that's how it felt. But she didn't run. We stared at each other and then I reached for her, taking her by the waist and tugging her closer to me. 

“It wasn't that simple for me, that’s what I’m trying to say. I couldn’t get you out of my head. Your eyes, your lips, your freaking gorgeous ass smile; none of it would leave me in peace. I was willing to do anything to see you again.”

“Really?” “Really.”

My breath was shaky because of how eager I was to kiss her. I wanted to devour those pretty rose colored lips and taste their sweetness again. Sophie stared at mine, sliding her tongue between her own, and drawing her bottom one in between her teeth, proving to me the same thoughts were running wildly through her mind. The throbbing feeling of my pulse went straight to cock, making me partially hard and I hated how much just the thought of kissing her turned me on. 

“But then you showed up at the bar, and it changed everything.”

I sucked in a breath the moment I felt Sophie’s arms slither around my waist and grip my shirt again, tugging to keep me in the middle of her arms. The tension between us returned as did the hunger. It was undeniable. Caressing her cheeks as I cupped her face, her silent tears fell onto my thumbs. I leaned in and slowly kissed her, the tug of my shirt as she kissed me back, pulling me closer to her reassured me that she wanted this, too.

“You're important, Sophie. You matter to me. You made it out of hell and somehow found your way to me.,” I muttered against her lips. “Your safety means everything to me now.” “Noah,” Sophie whispered, bringing her hands to rest on my forearms.  “I’m sorry,” I whispered back, tracing her bottom lip with my thumbs. “I'm sorry for being so honest, but I'm not sorry for how I feel.”  Her eyes searched mine for something she was desperate to find. 

“I'm not asking you to be sorry,” she admitted, reaching for the back of my head and pulling me down into her kiss. My fingers gripped her hips, kneading the soft skin as her hands wrapped around my biceps. 

I tasted the inside of her mouth fully, releasing a subtle grunt the moment she pressed her core against my hardening cock. I was starving for her and willing to take whatever she was willing to give me.

She pulled away, eyes wide with intense heat and breathless from our kiss. She was letting her guard down, that much was clear, but I could sense the hesitation to truly  trust me that I wouldn't hurt her the way Perry had. I saw the fear to fall, but the faith to jump anyway.

“So, how did you and Perry meet anyway,” I asked Sophie, helping her pick up some books that were scattered over the floor. “He was a client at the law firm I used to work for. I was his lawyer's secretary. One night he asked me out and that was all it took.” Sophie laid the stack of books on the end table, lost in a distant memory. 

“I gave him my virginity that night. He convinced me enough that he was the only man good enough for me, and I believed him.” She looked over at me and laughed. “Shallow, I know.” “You weren’t. You trusted him. You had no reason not to at the time.” “Yeah I guess so.”  She picked up a few pillows and tossed them on the couch. “Did he ever hurt you while having sex?” Sophie was hesitant to answer.

“Not at first. But later on, yeah he did. I had bruises and bite marks on my legs and thighs often, and hand prints around my neck sometimes. I claimed it was because he loved me too much, but it didn’t feel like love. Love shouldn’t have made me painfully cry.”

I grimaced at her words. “Did he ever find out that you slept with other guys?” Sophie looked at me in the most confusing way. “What do you mean, other guys?” “There were other guys after him, right?” I asked, hesitantly. Sophie slowly shook her head. “Perry is the only guy I’ve ever been with, Noah.” “What?” “I was too scared to go and be with someone else, afraid of what would happen if Perry found out. In fact, you’re the first guy I’ve ever talked to in a non-friend way.”

“Fuck, Sophie, no pressure,” I laughed, floored by her confession.  Thankfully she laughed, too. “You should feel honored.” “Oh, believe me, I do,” I smiled at her.

She walked over towards the kitchen, stopping right before her feet hit the tile. Dark red stains, resembling blood, covered the bright white tile and shattered glass glistened in the light of the small window on the kitchen wall.

“What the hell happened here?” Her face was suddenly void of emotion.

"This is where everything started. Perry was refusing to leave even though I begged him over and over to go. I knew how angry he was with me for telling him we were over, and I was starting to get scared. But I didn't think,” her voice fading away while staring at the floor.

That’s when she started describing the events of that night while I followed her into the kitchen. Her description of Perry’s rage and the fear for her life was difficult to listen to. She described his beatings and the assault he made on her and I wondered how in the hell she found the strength to escape. It really was a miracle, I guess. The things he said to her made me cringe as she repeated them. What was worse was I knew Sophie believed most of them, too. Helping her undo those lies in her mind was my first priority once I got her back to the safety of my house. 

"Noah, you're right,” sighing, as she turned to me. “I can't live like this anymore, I don't want to.” I was leaning against the counter, gripping the edges so hard that my knuckles were turning white. "I was terrified he was going to kill me that night and I'm lucky he didn't. I don't want to keep taking those kinds of chances anymore. So where do I start?” She looked to me for the answer as if I had it and I did. I just wasn’t sure if it was the one she was looking for.

“Well, you could always stay with me, us; the guys and me,” I stuttered, making my offer clearer, “you know, until you can find another place to live. We have a fully finished basement with two extra rooms that you’re more than welcome to use.” Sophie brought her hand to her mouth and bit her nails nervously. She was heavily thinking about the idea.

“You can pay me if you want; if it'll make you feel better. You don't have to though.”  “Of course I will! I'm not mooching off you guys like a leech!” I chuckled at her choice of words. “Are you sure the others won't have a problem with it?” I shook my head. “Absolutely not, especially with the way you cook. You'll have them begging at your door for more.”

Sophie’s eyes lit up when she smiled at me. She was so beautiful when she did and the way it made my heart race and my knees weak scared the shit out of me. 

“This environment you're used to living in isn’t safe. You shouldn’t stay. It's all about control and fear and Perry knows this and as long as you allow him to use you, you'll continue giving him control. You have to know when to say enough's enough." “I know. You’re right.” "And in the end, you just end up losing yourself trying to hold on to someone who never cared about losing you in the first place. Knowing when to let go can be a motherfucker. But when you do let go and begin to find yourself again, you’ve got to hold onto it because people are going to tell you who you are or who you should be. You've just gotta fight back and tell them you already know." 

"But what if I don't? Sometimes I feel like I’m meant to wander alone in the darkness for the rest of my life and other times I feel dead inside. I’m scared it’s all I’ll ever be, Noah.” I took her hands, running my thumbs over the backs of them. They were small and warm and fit perfectly in mine; like they were made for me. “Then I’ll sit in the dark with you. I’ll stay; if you want me to. And you won’t have to tell me anything unless you want to. We can just sit together in silence.” Sophie turned her face away from me, staring at the red droplets that stained the tile.

“Give yourself time to wander the darkness, to heal and process what you’ve been through. I promise you, you won't be alone. And you don’t ever have to pretend. Not with me, not ever. That fucker hurt you more than you deserved because you loved him more than he deserved, and you can’t expect yourself to be over it or completely healed of it in just a week. It takes time, okay.” “Okay.”

“The basement is yours if you want it. I just want you to be safe. And happy,” “Thank you, Noah, for everything. I’ll never be able to return the kindness you've shown me.” “I don’t expect you to. I didn’t go into this expecting you to give anything back. I just couldn't help myself. I was drawn to you like a moth to a flame.”

Laying her hands on my chest, Sophie slid them up until her fingertips met the nape of my neck, dancing over the snake and the apple before fidgeting with my silver chain; just like she did that first night I ever held her. I was afraid I’d lost her that night, yet here she was in my arms, safe where I was able to protect her. My lips grazed her forehead, softly brushing over her warm skin as I laid my hands on her hips, giving them a tight squeeze, before slipping them around her waist and resting them on her lower back. Her beautiful eyes were shining despite the shadows. Her lips parted as I cupped her face, my thumb smoothing over her cheekbone. My lips found hers. I kissed her gently, carefully, exploring her mouth with my tongue in a slow sensual kiss. I want to consume her.

“Do you trust me, Sophie?” I asked, my voice a little shaky. “Yes, I do.” “Tell me why you trust me,” I said, running my hands over the soft flesh of her bottom, gently pushing her into me. “Because, when I’m with you, Noah, I feel safe.”

I force her to look at me, exhaling when I see she’s telling the truth. “You are safe, do you hear me?” She nodded quickly, choking back tears. “You. Are. Safe. And whatever happened to you in the past won’t follow you into your future. I won’t let anything bad happen to you.” I pressed my forehead to hers as she exhaled a painful sigh. “And if you just tell me where else or how else I need to keep you safe, I’ll do that too, okay?” “Why,” Sophie whimpered, sniffling. “Because I care, Sophie.” “Why?” she asked again. “I just do. I can’t help it.”

Sophie's hands snaked up the back of my head and into my hair, her nails raking across my scalp, earning her a deep moan that crawled out of my chest. I grabbed her needfully and pressed my hands against her bottom, feeling her push her sex against my cock that was already throbbing with hunger for her. “Fuck, Princess,” I growled, walking her back until she hit the counter and my shoe hit the bottom cabinet with a loud thud. 

The slight little moan that left her only encouraged me to keep going. Lifting her up, I planted Sophie on the counter, holding her face in my hands while I deepened the kiss as the taste of her drove me to the brink of insanity. Her hands gathered the sides of my shirt between her fists, pulling it up just enough for her to slip them underneath and around my waist. God, the feeling of her skin against mine in such an intimate place was euphoric. 

“This isn’t real. This shouldn’t be so easy with you, Noah,” she mumbled against my lips, slipping her hands under the waistband of my joggers and tugging me closer to her. “I know, but I can't stop,” I argued, taking her bottom lip between my teeth. Her small whimpers made my skin prickle as my heart raced from the beautiful way she made my cock twitch. The way her mouth molded with mine made it impossible to let go, and I didn’t want her to ever pull back; as if her mouth held all the oxygen that kept me alive. I needed more. I needed to feel her against me.

I pulled Sophie’s legs up and wrapped them around me feeling her cling to me like her life depended on it. I was surprised by how light she was, making it easy for me to carry her over to the kitchen chair. I sat down, helping her position herself until she was sitting comfortably on my lap, facing me. Her sex was pressed against my hard length, making me groan when she leaned up and laid her lips on mine. When she looked down and noticed how we were touching, I felt the tiny grind she made against me, making me curse under my breath. 

“Are you okay?” I brushed the loose pieces of hair away from her face, watching her eyes sink down as she leaned against my chest, picking at her fingers. I was beginning to notice this was a nervous habit of hers. I took her hands, covering them so she could relax. “I just wonder if he even misses me.” Sophie's words caught me off guard. “Where did that thought come from?” voicing my confusion. She shrugged. “I've never had anyone tell me they’ve missed me. I just wonder if Perry does. That's all.” A sharp pain hit my chest. “Probably not.” “Yeah,” she sighed, “you’re probably right.”

“I know it’s only been a few days, but I care about you; alot.” “I care about you a lot too, Noah,” she said softly. “I don’t want you to have to deal with what you’ve had to deal with ever again.” “Is the thing real, whatever this is between us?” Sophie asked skeptically. I took her hands and laid them on the sides of my face. “Do you feel that?” “Yes,” she answered softly. “I’m here and I’m real and I’m not going anywhere. I can keep you safe, shelter you from the rain and the storms.” “I’m tough enough, Noah.” I chuckle. “I know you are.” “I’ve taken care of myself this long.” “You have. You still do and You always will. I’ve just joined in, too. Now we can take care of each other.”

Sophie smiled, her eyes crinkling in their corners. “Are you saying you might fight for me?” I chuckle again. “Baby, at this point, I would burn the whole fucking world for you if it meant it would keep you safe.” This woman had me at her will, to mold or break, in any way she wanted to. “I know you’re scared because of everything you’ve been through,” pushing on her bottom to move her up closer towards me,“but I can’t deny that we make each other feel something. It’s okay if it’s not love; I don’t expect it to be, and it’s okay if we’re both too scared to admit it to each other. But I know you feel what I’m feeling, otherwise,” I grinned, looking down at where we were subconsciously somewhat connected, then trailing my eyes up her body, “we wouldn’t be doing what we’re doing.” Sophie started to slightly grinded on me. Whether intended or not, it felt amazing. She knew I knew what she was doing, and I was loving every second of her teasing. Her lips came down and found mine, engulfing me in a warm, hungry kiss that sent her melting into my chest. Her moan sent chills up my spine, making me crave more, 

Silent tears trickled down her rosy cheeks, and I quickly wiped them away. Running my hand down the side of her face, I wrapped my hand around her neck, bringing her face closer to mine. "The moment I saw you in the crowd with that bright-ass blue hoodie, a part of me walked out of my body and wrapped itself around you. I was really fucking scared. I've never fallen that hard, that fast for some, not even,” but I stopped myself before I went too far. This wasn't the time nor place to bring her up. Sophie brought her hands back to my neck, sliding her fingertips over my tattooed-covered skin and up into my hair where she gently ran her fingers through it again. “You’ve got so fucking addicted to the way you do that,” confessing my weakness to her and making her giggle. Sophie’s eyes were dangerously alive as they skimmed over me. As her face hovered so close to mine, I could feel her warm breath on my lips, tempting me; teasing me. I bit the inside of my cheeks to suppress the moans that were dying to escape, cursing under my breath at how hard she had made me. I was losing the battle of resistance against her. I bucked, pushing my cock into her and receiving the force of her sex pushing back. "Ughh, fucking kiss me now, Sophie! Please, god, stop teasing me; let me feel your mouth on mine," I begged. 

But she pulled back instead, causing a gap between us. "Fuck, don't pull away, please, I just... You just... you and me..." "Noah, are you speechless?" she teased, sliding her fingers down my cheek. "Yes, yes I am, Princess. Maybe if you’d fucking kiss me then maybeI could finish my thought." “Kiss you, you want me to kiss you," she whispered, pressing her body down on me as she closed the gap between us, thankfully. "Wellm I want you to do more than kiss me, but you can start with kis...," My words were cut off by the pressure of her lips as she slammed her mouth into mine, letting me know she hungered for me just as much as I hungered for her. Every endorphin in my body exploded as our lips moved slowly, yet so eagerly together, but I wanted more; I wanted what was inside her mouth. "Open," I demanded, squeezing Sophie's ass and pushing her into me. She grunted at the feeling that ripped through her and obeyed, allowing me to slip my tongue in and taste every last bit of her. She tasted so good, making me wonder if other parts of her tasted as good. I could feel the pre-cum from my erection soak my underwear, making the restraint not to cum, hard. Then she started rocking back and forth on me, soft and slowly at first, while her arms wrapped around my neck and she pushed her supple breasts against my chest, making me groan with want. Sophie had me so worked up and out of it that I couldn’t hold my release in much longer.

"Shit! Sophie, I'm so close," I confessed, breathless. "So close to cumming," I growled in frustration, grabbing her hands and squeezing them tightly, controlling the urge to ravage her the way I was dying to. Her tongue grazed the inside of my bottom lip, begging to enter my mouth which I immediately gave her. "Do you want me to stop," she whispered in my ear after a few moments of tasting the inside of my mouth. "No, I don't," confessing unapologetically. 

She leaned back and grinned. I took in the way she looked; all worked up, hot, and beautiful. It was at that moment I knew I was done for. I had fallen for Sophie, completely fallen for absolutely everything about her, and it had only been six days. Sophie had me undone like putty in her hands and the intoxicating scent of vanilla that escaped from beneath her t-shirt aroused deep hidden feelings I'd forced myself to bury a long time ago that I just didn't want to feel anymore. I was afraid. The fear of being used and abandoned again began to creep into the crevices of my own heart, creating overthinking thoughts that I didn't want at the moment. 

Finally taking a moment, I slid my hands around her waist as Sophie slid hers around my face, cupping it between her fingers, and resting her elbows on my chest. Her thumbs caressed my lips and I relished the feeling of her touch, closing my eyes briefly and laying my head back. "God woman you're going to be the death of me, if that happens again," I confessed with a breathless chuckle, feeling her fingers slide down my throat. "Did it hurt?" I raised my head looking into her eyes as she sat back and placed her hands on my chest. Her lips were a perfect shade of pink, evidence of being savagely kissed over and over again. "Like a bitch,I replied. "Then why did you do it?" I shrugged. "Why not do it?" "Was it the worst one to have done?" "No, that would be my back. That motherfucker took hours, days, weeks, shit, I don't even remember that's how long it took." Sophie's laugh rang out through the apartment, breaking the quietness for the first time. “You keep calling me Princess. Why?” “Because you are; to me. You're valuable, worthy of everything that could be given to you. You deserve it.” She sighed a little, hanging her head and letting me know she didn't agree with me. “I don't care if you believe me or not. It's what's true to me and that's how it's going to be, so deal with it.”

 Quietly laughing, she fell into my chest and I wrapped her in my arms, placing a light kiss on her hair. "I'm sorry," she whispered, an apologetic look in her eyes. "For what?” I glanced at her quizzingly. “For teasing you.” “Are you being serious right now?” I chuckled, but I could see she was nervous by the way she picked at her fingers. "Hey, it's okay," I said, trying to reassure her that everything was fine. "There’s nothing to be sorry about. We’re two grown adults who consensually made out with each other. You have nothing to apologize about.” "I don't? Are you sure?" she asked, her voice a little unsteady. I shook my head. "No, you don't. Why would you think that?” She shrugged, crossing her arms over her chest. "Sophie, look at me." She did and she seemed lost. The glow that had just been there was suddenly gone. "What is it?" "It's nothing; it's just that," she hesitated, stopping her sentence short. "I've never done this before Noah; what we just did," admitting shyly. "Perry and I never made out. It was always straight to the sex with him while calling all the shots. I never had a say." My shoulders fell. "What a sick fuck. Sophie, I'm sorry you had to live like that." She sighed. "It is what it is, right? Hopefully, it's not my life anymore,” shifting her eyes towards me. I grinned at her and tucked a piece of her hair behind her ear, shaking my head. “No, it's not.”

She got up off of my lap and reached out her hands to me. I took them and she pulled me to my feet. "Come help me pack? I'll leave all this for another day. I don't want to deal with it right now." Agreeing, I followed Sophie to the bedroom where she entered her closet and emerged with a duffle bag. After talking for a while as we packed up clothes and other essential items she would need, she zipped up her bag, ready to go, but not before grabbing a stuffed raccoon from her bed. I gave her a questioning look. "What? Don't judge me," she scolded. I threw my hands up in defense. "I'm not, you do you," taking her bag and slinging it over my shoulder, shooting her smile. “Just don’t let Matt see it. He might take it. Man has an unholy obsession with raccoons.” “Heavily noted,” she grinned.

Moments later, I stood next to her in the living room again, watching as she picked up little pieces here and there of her things, trying to salvage what she could. "Hey, Sophie, listen; when you're ready, I'll get the guys together and we'll come over and help get this place cleaned up. Maybe by then, you'll have a few things figured out." She nodded, wiping away the few tears that slid down her cheeks. "That would be really helpful, Noah, thanks," standing up a lamp that lay partially broken on the floor. "Maybe Perry will be in jail by then too." "What do you mean?”

"I called the police a few days ago and gave them my statement of what happened. I gave them all of Perry's information and mine. I told them to come here and see things for themselves. They came yesterday." “Oh! Why didn't you say anything?" "What was there to tell, Noah," she shrugged. "None of this is on you or your friends to feel or handle; it's mine. My mess, my problem, my life, as fucked up as it all is. You guys have already done so much for me, not only by giving me a place to heal and rest but a safe place to get my mind together and figure crap out. That's more than anyone has ever done for me."

I stood there quietly, thinking of so much I wanted to say, but in the end, I just said okay and promised her the mess in her apartment would be handled. Since meeting Sophie, I came to realize how strong of a woman she was mentally and emotionally. She was putting on a good front, pretending that things weren't so bad, but I was already a player of the convincing game enough to recognize the signs of coming undone; and she was close. Whatever happened those few days she stayed locked up in my bedroom wasn't enough to keep her together and it was just a matter of time before the dam in her head and heart would break. But I made a promise to myself, as I followed her out the door, that no matter what happened or how difficult it would be, I was going to be the one to pick her up and love her when her world came crashing down. No matter what, I wasn't going anywhere, because I'd already made my mind up and staked my claim on Sophie's heart. She was mine and I was hers and my intuition was telling me she felt the same way. It was only a matter of time before the universe would decide to put all the pieces that had begun to form around us, together.

CHAPTER 6 PT.1

[stevenblueniverse]

Bellow selkie au chapter 6 (sorry if this one is short)

Chapter 6 welcome to humanity?

Yellow secretly lead "blue diamond" through the small town at the dead of night, it was dark enough outside that no one would be able to see them and no one would be out. Blue was still visibly worried, tightly holding onto yellows arm with one hand, the other still on her coat as they made their way to where yellow's stayed, yellow tried to whisper to blue that shed be ok, only to be frantically hushed incase someone was listening in. They where able to get to where yellow was currently staying quite quickly, blue was silent but obviously interested by the place, looking around and pointing to things she'd definitely never seen before, now it was yellows turn to explain things.

Blue laid down on yellows bed and looked up to the ceiling, "so bright...so soft", she said, spreading out her arms, her voice was still very quiet, yellow thought she'd be less shy now that their in a safer place. "Is the light too much for you?", yellow asked, blue was looking right up to it, she feared it could hurt her eyes. "No, I like it", blue said, sitting up and getting off the bed, walking in direction to the bathroom door opposite to the bed to explore this new place some more.

Blue opened the bathroom door and looked around the small room. It wasn't much, just a toilet with a small sink opposite to it and a very small bath with a shower above it. "What's this?", blue asked, walking in and looking around, yellow followed after, not being able to get in the room much as barely two people could fit in. "Oh this is...how do I explain it? You go here too-," yellow was stopped by blue turning on the sink, rolling up the sleeves on her coat and poking the water with her fingers, "...water room?" Blue asked, turning around to yellow, poking the water some more. "kinda", yellow replied, moving into the room some more now that blue had moved from the door, "we can use this place to clean ourselves, like here", she gestured the bath to blue, "you fill this with water and can sit in it and be able to clean your whole body".

When yellow said this an idea came into blue's mind, "Oh can I sit in it?", blue asked, sounding a bit excited. Yellow immediately imagined a scenario of blue using the bath to turn into a seal and destroying everything flash into her mind, she shook her head. "No way! What if you transform!?", yellow cried, blue pouted, "I won't! Trust me! Please let me use it?", her face was too cute for yellow to resist, "fine!", yellow huffed, walking out the room In case somehow she'd get crushed by a huge seal trying to swim around in such a small bathtub.

"I'm going to bed now, it's very late and when I wake up there better not be a giant seal shaped hole here!", yellow called, not fully closing the door behind her and laying down on the bed, "I can't believe I'm doing this", she mumbled to herself, crawling up to the top of the bed to switch the light off, the light in the bathroom was still on and shining on her, making her struggle even more when trying to relax and get her mind off the possibility of a selkie causing chaos.

Yellow tried to sleep but couldnt, whenever she tried to she'd have a nightmare of a huge seal breaking down her bathroom door then she'd wake up again, she couldn't take it anymore. Yellow got up from the bed and noticed she hadn't closed the door the whole way, she'd be able to see if Blue had transformed or not, she carefully put her face to the small gap and watched, trying to be as silent as possible.

The bathtub was now fully filled, blue had been constantly messing with the temperature this whole time, turning it off to make it hot then turning it off again to make it cold. It was so full it would probably spill everywhere if blue got in now a bit of sweat ran down yellow's face, "she's going to flood the place, isn't she?", she thought to herself, thinking about how expensive the damage will be and fighting the urge to break in there and stop her from whatever she was going to do next.

Blue poked the water some more, checking the temperature, it was now perfect to her it seemed, she looked around and, to yellow's shock took off her coat and neatly folded it on top of the toilet. She was completely naked underneath, her long hair covering most of her back. yellow's eyes widened and she quickly looked away, regretting ever looking and blushing heavily from embarrassment, she ran away from the door, holding her warm red cheeks and laid back down on the bed, trying to act like nothing had happened.

[kittyball23]

Attack! (a Trolls fanfic)

Summary: Bridget and Gristle come across Putt Putt Village, and are met with a nasty surprise

A/N: One that I wanted to write… I can only imagine how Trolls who were trained their whole life to protect themselves from Bergens would react when these two barge into their town uninvited XD

__________________________________________

“Woah…”

Bridget and Gristle uttered the word at the same time, in awe of the spooky-looking neon sign that flashed before them.

“‘Hole N’ Fun Mini-Golf,’” Gristle read out loud. “Huh. That’s strange. I didn’t see this on the map.” He peered down at the brochure that was in his hands, “But I guess we can see if it’s open.”

Bridget agreed, and climbed off the motorcycle she’d been driving them on, with Gristle right behind her.

“Hello?” she called out at the front desk. “Hellooo?” She got no reply. The lights were dark, and there was nobody coming out.

“Hmm… maybe they’re on break?” Gristle suggested.

Bridget shrugged. “Maybe. I’m sure they won’t mind if we check it out, right?” She began to walk in, looking at all the structures that were there, and at all the sand and water traps. Bridget seemed fascinated, but Gristle was starting to feel unnerved. He was getting a sense of foreboding, and for some weird reason it felt like someone was watching them.

“You know, babe, it kinda looks like nobody’s been here for years,” he said, noting the some of the dust and more crumbling edifices. “Maybe we should just go?”

Bridget glanced over at him and had to agree. “Yeah, I guess you’re right.”

They were just heading off, when the clown structure they were passing by suddenly came to life, bursting with flames and resounding with a loud BOOM!

“AHHH!” both Bergens yelped with surprise. Gristle clung onto Bridget’s arm, when down the red pathway that came out of the clown structure’s mouth rolled out several colorful-looking hairballs.

Bridget cocked her head in wonder when two or three became a dozen or more. “Are those… golf balls?” she asked, not really quite sure. Before Gristle could muster an answer, the ‘golf balls’ unrolled, revealing Trolls!

“Oh!” Bridget sighed in relief. “Good, they’re just Trolls.” She bent down so she could speak to them. “Hey you guys, are you the ones who run this place?” She gestured to herself and Gristle. “I’m Bridget, and this is Grizzy, and we’re the king and queen of - “

“BERGENS!” one of the Putt Putt Trolls shouted.

Bridget was taken aback. “Um, yes, we’re Bergens but we’re just passing b - “

“ATTACK!” Bridget was cut off again.

“Attack?” Gristle asked, surprised. “What do they mean by thaaAAAAAHH!”

From all sides, he and Bridget were suddenly assaulted. Ropes flew at them, straddling the creatures in tight bonds and holding them steadfast. In a flash they were knocked off their feet and onto the ground in a very rough manner, sucking the air out of their lungs.

“Hey! What are you doing?!” Gristle called out. “We’re not gonna hurt you!”

“Spare us your lies, Bergens,” one of the Trolls said. “We know that all you want is to have us in your bellies, isn’t that right, Putt Putters?”

“Putt Putt, Putt Putt!” the Trolls cried in agreement, lighting up torches and raising pitchforks.

Bridget startled at the sight of it and squeaked a fearful yelp. “Whoa, wait a sec! Grizzy’s telling the truth! Trolls and Bergens are friends now! We sear it! We would never eat you guys!”

“Yeah right! But you can’t do it now, even if you wanted to!” the first Troll who’d spoke up said in response. With a snap of his fingers, Bridget and Gristle suddenly felt themselves being dragged along. It was a slow procession, but it was still happening. They struggled, but were unable to break free.

“Putt Putters, let's set up the bonfire!” another Troll called out.

The smell of smoke suddenly filled the air, and blazing flames crackled behind them, the heat intense. 

And Bridget and Gristle were being taken right to it!

“No! Stop! Please don’t! We’re begging you!”

“Don’t do this, guys! We’re nice! We’re not the way that Bergens used to be! None of us are!”

But both of their pleas fell deaf on the Putt Putt Trolls’ ears. They both shouted until their voices were sore, but still nothing was done. In defeat, Gristle and Bridget turned to one another and sighed.

“Babe, I don’t think there’s any getting out of this,” he said sadly.

“I know,” Bridget replied, feeling herself tear up.

“I’m sorry our honeymoon didn’t go the way you wanted,” the Bergen king apologized.

“It’s all right, Grizzy,” Bridget said, batting her eyes at him. “I still love you.”

Gristle smiled. “And I love you, too.” Then, they leaned in and kissed. If this would be their last moments, at least they could appreciate that they were together.

But then, as if their prayers were answered, a voice barked out, “STOP!”

The Putt Putters instantly quit, the dragging of the Bergens coming to a halt. A new Troll approached the pair, with golden hair and a green cape. She had familiar fuschia eyes and pink skin that made Bridget confused.

“P-Poppy?” she asked, tentatively. “Is that you? Did you get a makeover, or something?”

The Troll’s eyebrows raised. “Poppy? Wait, you know my sister?”

Bridget gasped. “Your sister?” She shook her head, not understanding. “Wait a minute, who are you?”

“My name is Viva,” the Troll said, “and I am the leader of the Putt Putt Trolls, a haven where we stay secluded from the dangers of the Bergens. No Bergen has found us yet… until now.” Viva narrowed her eyes. “I ask again, do you actually know my sister Poppy?”

“The Queen of Pop Village?” Bridget said, nodding. “Yeah, we know her. I’m her best friend!”

“Please miss Viva… your highness… ma’am,” Gristle rambled nervously, “We’re not trying to cause any trouble. We just came here because we’re trying to find spots to hit for our honeymoon to make up for the wedding. Y’know, this guy’s brother came and kinda interrupted it because they’re trying to find the other dudes to save this one guy who’s trapped in a diamond, and -”

“Whoa, whoa, whoa!” Viva put her hands up. The fierceness from her face had left, and had softened into something friendlier. “You do know my sis!” she said, remembering how Poppy had told her when John Dory had put a halt to the marriage. “She told me all about you guys.” Viva then turned to the others. “Putt Putt Trolls, it’s all okay. You can release them!”

“But Viva, they’re Bergens!” one of the Putt Putters said.

“I know,” Viva said, “but I promise you we can trust them.”

The Putt Putters still looked a bit uncertain - this was what they’d been training for their whole lives! - but they still listened to their queen. Bridget and Gristle were released.

“Oh, thank you so much,” Bridget said gratefully.

“No problem!” Viva chirped. “Any friend of Poppy’s, is a friend of mine. Sorry for the misunderstanding!”

Bridget giggled. “Hey, I get it. Any idea if she was able to finish with the mission yet?”

“No,” Viva admitted, glancing worriedly out beyond the forest. “I’m really worried about her, though…” She swallowed and pressed her hands together.

“Do you know where they were going?” Gristle asked.

“Some place called Mount Rageous,” Viva replied.

“Mount Rageous,” Bridget echoed, looking at the brochure. Indeed, there was a little spot on the map marked as such, and the image on it seemed to depict a diamond-studded city. “You know… we can take you there if you want!”

“What?” Viva gasped. The thought of leaving Putt Putt Village was making her stomach churn. “I mean, I don’t know, I, um… I don’t know if I can…”

“Sure you can,” Bridget encouraged. “We’ve got a motorcycle that can get us there in a jiffy!”

“It’s not that, I’m just, I…” She trailed off and looked down, feeling ashamed for her fears.

But then she thought of her sister. About how she’d said she would jump into that danger head on for the sake of family. Viva supposed she could do the same. Couldn’t she?

“I…” she started again, and then more confidently said, “I’m in!”

The Putt Putt Trolls gasped. One of them grabbed her arm. “But my queen! You’re not really - “

“Look, I know it’s risky,” Viva said sternly, “But my sister is worth that risk. I can’t just leave her.” She stood up and spoke loud enough for all to hear. “I promise that I will be back!”

The Putt Putters didn’t quite like the idea of their queen leaving, worried over her safety, but they supported her decision, bidding her a chipper farewell.

Viva followed Bridget and Gristle, mounting onto the handlebars of the motorcycle while the Bergen Queen revved it up.

“So, how are exactly are you Poppy’s sister?” Bridget asked curiously.

Viva laughed. “Oh! It’s a long story…”