#maybe something is in the air this summer

[xoxoch3rry]

𝔻𝕒𝕟𝕘𝕖𝕣𝕠𝕦𝕤 𝕎𝕒𝕥𝕖𝕣𝕤

@ xoxoch3rry do not steal or translate my work.

Word count: 1,229

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Rafe Cameron x fem!reader

Warnings: Possessiveness, Jealousy

Summary: Rafe struggles with jealousy at a party, but after a heated confrontation, he learns to trust his girlfriend's commitment to him.

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The warm summer air was heavy with the scent of salt and sunscreen as you leaned against the balcony railing of Tannyhill, gazing out at the marshland. The party below was loud—laughter and music mixing with the occasional splash from the pool. But you weren’t in the mood for mingling tonight. Something about being surrounded by Kooks, their sharp gazes and constant whispers, made you feel like you didn’t quite belong.

Still, you were here—for Rafe.

“Been lookin’ for you,” his voice cut through the humid stillness, low and edged with that mix of charm and something darker.

You turned to find Rafe leaning against the doorframe, arms crossed, the dim light from the hallway catching on his sharp features. He was in a white button-up, the top few buttons undone, paired with his usual khakis. His hair was slightly tousled like he’d been running his hands through it all night.

“I just needed some air,” you said softly, giving him a small smile. “It’s a little too much down there.”

Rafe’s piercing blue eyes narrowed slightly as he stepped onto the balcony. He moved with an easy confidence, but there was tension in his jaw—something simmering just beneath the surface.

“Too much?” he echoed, tilting his head. “Or is it someone?”

You frowned, confused. “What do you mean?”

Rafe’s lips curled into a smirk, but it didn’t reach his eyes. “Saw you talking to Kelce earlier.”

Oh. That’s what this was about.

“Rafe,” you sighed, crossing your arms. “He just wanted to know where the drinks were. It wasn’t a big deal.”

“Not a big deal?” he repeated, his voice tightening. He stepped closer, towering over you now. The familiar scent of his cologne wrapped around you, grounding and suffocating all at once. “Because from where I was standing, it looked like he couldn’t keep his eyes off you.”

“Maybe he couldn’t, but that’s not my problem,” you shot back, trying to keep your voice steady. “I can’t control where people look.”

His hand reached out, brushing your arm lightly before gripping your wrist—not hard, but firm enough to make his point. “You can’t control that, no. But you can control how close you let them get.”

Your breath hitched as his eyes bore into yours, the possessiveness in them unmistakable. It wasn’t the first time Rafe had been like this. He had a way of staking his claim on you that was both thrilling and unnerving. You’d told yourself you could handle it, that his intensity was just part of who he was. But sometimes… it was a lot.

“I didn’t let him get close,” you said, your voice softening. “I swear, Rafe. You’re the only one I’m here for.”

His grip loosened, and his shoulders relaxed slightly. “Good,” he murmured, stepping even closer. His free hand cupped your cheek, his thumb brushing over your skin. “Because I don’t like sharing.”

The possessiveness in his voice sent a shiver down your spine. It should’ve annoyed you, should’ve made you push him away. But instead, you found yourself leaning into his touch, drawn to the intensity of his emotions.

“You don’t have to share,” you whispered, your heart pounding. “I’m yours.”

Something in his eyes flickered at your words, a mix of satisfaction and something deeper, darker. “Damn right, you are.”

Before you could respond, his lips crashed against yours, claiming you in a way that left no room for doubt. His hand slid around your waist, pulling you flush against him as if he needed to feel every part of you to believe you were truly his. The kiss was heated, possessive, and entirely Rafe.

When he finally pulled back, you were breathless. He rested his forehead against yours, his voice low and rough. “You don’t know what you do to me.”

You didn’t get a chance to reply before the sound of laughter drifted up from below. Rafe stiffened, his eyes narrowing as he glanced over the railing. You followed his gaze and spotted Kelce standing near the pool, a drink in hand. He wasn’t looking up at you, but that didn’t seem to matter to Rafe.

“I don’t like him being here,” Rafe muttered, his jaw clenching. “Thinks he can come to my house, look at my girl…”

“Rafe, stop,” you said, placing a hand on his chest. His heart was racing under your palm. “It’s not worth it. Let it go.”

But you knew Rafe too well to think he’d actually listen. He stepped back, his hand dropping from your waist as his gaze darkened. “Stay here,” he ordered, his tone leaving no room for argument.

“Rafe, don’t—”

“Stay. Here.”

And just like that, he was gone, striding back inside before you could stop him. You leaned against the railing, frustration bubbling up in your chest. This was exactly what you’d been afraid of. Rafe’s temper was like a storm—unpredictable and destructive. You loved him, but sometimes it felt like you were trying to hold back the tide.

Minutes later, the sound of shouting drew your attention back to the party. Your stomach dropped as you spotted Rafe and Kelce near the pool, their voices carrying over the music. Rafe was in Kelce’s face, his fists clenched at his sides.

Without thinking, you hurried downstairs, weaving through the crowd. By the time you reached them, Rafe had grabbed Kelce by the collar, his face inches from the other boy’s.

“She’s not yours to look at,” Rafe growled, his voice low and dangerous. “Got it?”

“Rafe, stop!” you said, pushing your way between them. You placed your hands on his chest, trying to create some distance. “This isn’t the time or the place.”

His eyes snapped to yours, still burning with anger. For a moment, you weren’t sure he’d listen. But then he let go of Kelce, shoving him backward with a sneer.

“Get out of here,” Rafe spat. “Before I change my mind.”

Kelce didn’t need to be told twice. He stumbled away, disappearing into the crowd. You turned back to Rafe, your own anger flaring now.

“What the hell was that?” you demanded. “You can’t just start fights every time you think someone looks at me wrong!”

“I’m not gonna stand there and let some loser disrespect you,” he shot back, his tone defensive.

“Disrespect me? Or disrespect you?”

The question hung in the air between you, and for a moment, Rafe didn’t say anything. Then he sighed, running a hand through his hair.

“Look,” he said, his voice softer now. “I know I get carried away sometimes. But I can’t help it, okay? You mean everything to me. And the thought of someone else trying to take you…”

“No one’s taking me,” you said firmly, grabbing his hand. “But you have to trust me, Rafe. I’m not going anywhere.”

His shoulders relaxed, and he pulled you into his arms, holding you tightly. “I’m sorry,” he murmured into your hair. “I just… I can’t lose you.”

“You’re not going to,” you whispered, your anger fading as you felt the sincerity in his words. “But you need to trust that.”

Rafe nodded, his grip on you tightening slightly. “I’ll try,” he promised. “But you’re mine, okay? No one else gets to have you.”

You smiled faintly, resting your head against his chest. “I’ve always been yours.”

And with that, the storm passed—for now.

[jjenthusee]

Where We Are

Pairing: Jason Todd x Reader

A/N: honestly this has been marinating in my mind for a while because a while ago I saw @sunnie-angel post this small writing (linked here) and I wanted to write something for it, but I haven’t gotten to sit down and complete something :( BUT i finally sat down and wrote because i needed something as a break from my end of semester stress from school :D i would also recommend reading the linked post first so it gives some context and insight to why i was so drawn to it and how it heavily inspired this fic. ENJOY and like, comment if your comfortable 💐

Summary: How do you live with the memories of Jason after his death as Robin?

Tags: AAAANGST, have a nice day :)

Word Count: 1.6k

A boy.

Full of so much life and raw emotion, who stood against the worst of Gotham.

He saw so much of its poison. It struck him, filled his veins, but he fought every day against the pain. Only when he finally left did Gotham return its thanks.

Everyday was torture. The memorials, the photographs, the graffiti. Streets littered with “We remember you.” Every waking second was a reminder that he was gone.

No more late night chats, meeting at the library, leaning against his shoulder.

You can still taste the bile that consumed your throat when you opened your door to Alfred standing there with the most chilling expression. Once he said your name in such a matter-of-fact tone, you knew. Your heart ached the same way it did when your thoughts brought you back to your worst fears, maybe it ached worse but that memory is buried in the back of your mind.

You slammed the door on Alfred. Grabbing your phone, calling one of the most recent phone numbers in your call history. It rang and rang. Nothing.

You left voicemail after voicemail. Begging, yelling, crying into the ending message to pick up.

You couldn’t walk down the road that led to the same library you spent all summer with him. The humid air beating down on you before the air conditioning sent a chill down your back. Scanning your library cards, returning books, letting Jason give you recommendations.

The memory made your eyes water.

You did everything to avoid it all.

Taking the longer path to school, playing music in your ears loud enough to drown out the passerby’s conversations about how tragic such a thing could happen to a young boy, avoiding any sort of color that matched the suit he was so proud of.

The same one that took him.

The more you avoided, the more the image of him chased you. Billboards, coffee cups, baseball caps. Robin was everywhere.

Until you saw a memorial video that some Gothamite made on social media.

It broke you one more time.

You screamed and screamed until your voice couldn’t. He was gone. Your Jason was truly gone.

You couldn’t get mad at him cheating at board games, you wouldn’t hear his laugh, no more asking him to drop off food while he was on patrol.

The world took the other half that completed you.

When the pain numbed out and you felt the guilt of your actions, you apologized to Alfred. You got back on track for school, the world wasn’t better, but it didn’t weigh on you as much.

You finally took a walk down the road you didn’t dare look down. You held your breath when you crossed over the invisible line, taking you down a familiar path, but with only one pair of shoes on the sidewalk this time.

You walked with your hands clenched, before you found yourself in front of one of the small memorial stands. A tiny Robin keychain stared back at you. You paid the seller with cash and continued on your walk.

The air hung heavy in your lungs as you stopped. Coming face to face with Jason’s favorite gargoyle that sat in front of the library steps. You fought the tears with lowered eyebrows and a stiff expression to place the key chain on the base of the statue. You grabbed a permanent marker out of your bag to write in big bold letters, “We Remember You.”

It was sloppy writing, but it captured your unrelenting, unapologetic emotions that Jason had always told you was why he loved being your friend.

As the weeks went by, more tiny Robins appeared on the gargoyle. Flowers were placed and you finally listened to the city mourn your friend.

Eventually you graduated, took a job at the library because you didn’t know anything about your future into being a young adult. Life was simple, it was enough.

You finally felt some stability on the anniversary of Jason’s death before you heard talk of a new Robin. That a replacement had been made.

You were at a rage again.

When times were too tough or when you just didn’t know how to handle yourself, you called Jason’s phone. Leaving voicemails admitting how much you missed him, how mad you were that he couldn’t even wait until you were able to beat how many books he checked out at the library, now it wasn’t fair to continue the competition by yourself. How mad you were that they didn’t retire the Robin suit after he sacrificed everything for it.

You didn’t even question how his phone line was still running as long as you could leave more voicemails.

When your rage started to cool, you joined Alfred one morning while the cold air chilled your face. Alfred handed you a hot tea that you refused to take, but Alfred always managed to get his way. It brought a smile to your face when you realized Jason used to do the same thing.

You walked with him down your familiar path to work. Before Alfred could say anything, your body unconsciously walked up to a new park bench. It wasn’t worn, but freshly placed with a shiny plaque that you couldn’t move your eyes from.

“In memory of Jason Todd-Wayne, a son who is loved as much as he loved books.” You quietly read.

You couldn’t move. You didn’t say anything to Alfred as he handed you a handkerchief when you felt the tears drop down your chin. The two of you just stood there, admiring the wood, the brass, and the memories.

When Alfred said his goodbyes, you stayed there. Afraid to sit down, but afraid to leave.

You spent the following anniversary standing next to the bench, next to the one place that was so precious to your childhood. The fear prevented you from taking a seat.

By the next anniversary, you managed to sit on the bench. Alfred visited again, shining the plaque and wiping down the park bench. You didn’t say much, but it was comfortable and breathing wasn’t that difficult that year.

By the most recent anniversary, you were starting to spend every important milestone at Jason’s bench. When you got your degree in library science, you sat with your cap and gown. When you got a job promotion at the library, you came to sit and watch the sunset.

Life was content as you passed Jason’s bench and gargoyle on your way to and from work. It was a part of you.

One late night as you locked up the library, making sure all the part-timers and volunteers made their way out safely and secured the doors, you said goodbye to your coworkers as you made your way down the worn steps.

Your feet ached from the new shoes that didn’t support you enough, but your walk back to your apartment would be short to endure the pain. The fatigue could wait until you walked through the front door.

You trudged through the familiar path, passing the same trees, shops, gargoyle. Fifteen paces, another thirty, but you couldn’t continue to count your steps when you saw someone facing Jason’s bench.

A tall man, large build, covered in a large hoodie with the hood raised. Only a couple strands of hair stuck out the opening, but you couldn’t see a clear face.

It was eerie how still the figure was, the small fog of breaths were the only indicator that the person was living.

You quickly moved to the edge of the sidewalk as you distanced yourself from the large man. You held your breath as you briskly walked passed, but a small ache hit your chest. A tiny feeling, so minuscule that you tried to talk yourself into not looking back.

Why would you do that late at night in Gotham?

Two paces, five paces. You paused and turned your head over your shoulder.

They were gone. Only a clear yellow street light shining down on Jason’s bench.

Weird.

But you weren’t going to find out what that was. You paced back to your apartment, throwing your jacket off, letting your aching muscles relax on the couch. You sighed as you couldn’t get the figure out of your head.

By the morning, you woke up early to get some breakfast on your way to work. A quick drink and some food to help give you some energy. You said ‘Good morning’ to the owners, passed by other early commuters.

You held your warm drink, breathing in morning air and taking your breakfast to-go, until you sat at Jason’s bench. It had been a while since you got to enjoy a meal there.

You sat, listening to the birds, seeing morning joggers pass, kids making their way to school, and you finished your meal. You got up to throw your trash away and took one last glance at the plaque.

You memorized the phrase engraved on there, but still took the time to read through every word. You took your hand out of your warm jacket pocket and felt your hand graze over the cold brass, your fingers feeling the grooves and the strict maintenance courtesy of Alfred.

In one last sigh, you turned to get to work, tapping the base of the gargoyle before the steps, happily humming to the calm start to your morning. Then another ache hit you just before your last step.

You turned around, but all the people hanging around the block were further away, enjoying the company of others or taking a stroll. You glanced around, unsure of what you were looking for.

But your search was interrupted by the cheerful voice of your coworker making his way up the steps.

You pushed down the feeling of the unknown, but some days you always felt like maybe Jason was with you, maybe from his bench built in his memory or the fact that this place was important to the two of you, but you always knew you were going to carry a portion of Jason with you.

In some comforting way, you told yourself that maybe your Jason never left.

[tokkiwrites]

"Summer nights like this had a way of unfolding secrets. The kind of nights when the air hung heavy with pine and smoke, the moon glinting like a shy voyeur against the rippling surface of the lake. This wasn’t your first time at the Washington family cabin, but it was the first time that everything felt different. No parents. No rules. And, worst of all, no escape from the fact that Josh Washington was here, and he wasn’t yours."

summary: Your best friend invites you to their annual summer trip to the family cabin in the mountains—something you've done before. But this year is different: no parents. After years of secretly harboring feelings for your best friend’s brother, Josh, you decide this is the perfect chance to finally confess.

tags: best friend's brother!joshua washington x f!reader, childhood crush, both josh and reader like each other but act oblivious (josh more than reader), reader is low key obsessed with josh, minor age gap, alternative universe where Hannah and Beth are still alive, some angst, p in v (protected), virginity loss (reader), kind of fluff, josh talks you through it (yummy!!), fingering (f receiving), idiots in love 🫶🏻

/ᐠ - ˕ -マ⁩ tokkis note ���� ✿ hey... how yall doing... the rami malek fever is so real i had to write something. so i did. 6,45k words to be more exact, teehee! i dont quite know what this is, but i had fun writing it, like it got me giggling and shit so yeah 💀 if you see any typos close your eyes, forget you saw anything. enjoy!

7th grade. That was when you stopped thinking of Josh Washington as just Hannah’s annoying older brother. Between the way he stayed behind after soccer practice to teach you how to kick a penalty and the smirk he threw over his shoulder, like he knew you were watching him. The first time when you actually considered Josh not being a jerk like other boys. In 9th grade, he became the hottest guy you had ever met. or maybe you just got so used to his face that you didn't want to look at other boys. Fast forward to now, you're starting college in one month, and things have changed in a way. maybe for the worstㅡ because he's all you can think about.

“You’re staring again.” Hannah’s voice snaps you out of your daze. She’s grinning, nudging your ribs as the two of you sit on the couch at the cabin. “You’re so obvious.” You blink and turn toward her, cheeks heating. “I—I wasn’t staring!”

“Oh, you were,” she teases, popping a chip into her mouth. “What is it this time? The hair? The jawline? Or did you finally notice his arms? I mean, have you seen him chop firewood? That’s peak Josh.”

“Hannah!” You hiss, smacking her arm. She only laughs, and you can’t help but roll your eyes. But she’s not wrong. Somewhere between your senior year of high school and now, Josh had gone from the boy who made stupid puns to the man who could take your breath away just by walking into a room. Unfortunately, it seems like he doesn’t notice.

“Still no move, huh?” Hannah says, lowering her voice. “You’re not seriously going to spend another summer in silent agony, are you?” You sigh. “What am I supposed to say? ‘Hey, Josh, remember me? The girl who used to wear braces and cried when I lost my retainer? Cool. Wanna make out?’” Hannah snorts so loudly that Beth, sitting nearby with her book, looks over with a frown. “What are you two laughing about now?”

“Nothing,” you and Hannah say in unison, though she’s still stifling giggles. Beth looks at you both, arching a brow. “Sure,” she says, clearly unconvinced, but she doesn’t push. She returns to her book, leaving you free to squirm under Hannah’s knowing gaze.

Josh doesn’t stick around to witness your humiliation. He’s already disappeared into the kitchen, and the sound of the fridge opening and the clinking of bottles is the only thing tethering you to the moment. “Do something this trip,” Hannah murmurs, leaning close so Beth doesn’t overhear. “Seriously. You’ve been mooning over him since forever. And now—” she waves a hand at the open windows, the twilight stretching wide like a stage—“this is your moment.”

“Hannah, it’s not like that,” you say, but even you don’t believe it. Not when your heart skips every time Josh is within ten feet of you. “It’s exactly like that,” she shoots back, voice low but insistent. “He likes you, too, you know.” You look at her sharply. “What?”

“Oh, don’t give me that face,” Hannah says, rolling her eyes. “I’ve seen the way he looks at you. He’s just... Josh. Oblivious as hell.”

You’re about to argue, to tell her she’s wrong, that there’s no way Joshua Washington— carefree, clever, confident Josh, could ever see you like that. But before you can, his voice carries from the kitchen. “You two plotting something?” Your breath hitches, and Hannah, ever the instigator, grins. “Maybe,” she calls back. Josh reappears, beer in hand, and leans against the doorway. His green eyes flick between the two of you, and for a moment, you swear they linger on you. “Well, don’t blow up the cabin,” he says with a crooked smile before heading out onto the porch.

That night, the cabin settled into quiet. Beth retires early, Hannah tucked away in the room you’re sharing, and yet you can’t sleep. Your thoughts swirl—images of Josh’s hands, the way his eyes looked into yours, his voice, smooth and teasing, the way his smile felt like a hook tugging you somewhere you shouldn’t want to go.

The room feels suffocating, the summer heat pressing against your skin. You slip out of bed as quietly as you can, grabbing a towel and slipping into your swimsuit. The lake isn’t far. You’ve been there a hundred times before, but tonight, it feels like it’s waiting just for you. The water is cold when you first step in, but it’s a welcome relief, a shock that clears your head. You wade in deeper, letting the towel drop onto the shore, and soon, the swimsuit feels like too much. You hesitate, glancing back toward the cabin, but it’s silent and still. “Just you and the lake,” you whisper to yourself. The swimsuit peels away, and the water envelops you like a second skin. You float, staring up at the sky, letting the cool liquid carry the weight of your thoughts.

But then a voice shatters the stillness.

“Didn’t take you for a midnight swimmer.”

You jolt, water sloshing as you whirl toward the shore. Josh is standing there, hands in his pockets, his head cocked in that infuriatingly casual way he always manages. “Josh!” You shriek, sinking deeper into the water. “What are you doing out here?”

“I could ask you the same thing,” he says, stepping closer to the water’s edge. “Couldn’t sleep?”

“Something like that,” you mutter, your cheeks burning even as the water cools your skin. His eyes sweep over the lake, lingering just long enough to make your heart race. “You always were full of surprises,” he says softly, almost to himself. “Are you just going to stand there and watch me, or are you joining?” you ask before you can think better of it. The question hangs in the air, bold and daring, and for a moment, you think you’ve scared him off. But then he grins.

“Alright.”

You watch, half in awe, as he pulls his shirt over his head, revealing the toned lines of his chest and the faint trail of scars along his ribs. He doesn’t stop there, shucking off his jeans until he’s left in his boxers.

The water ripples as he drops in, and suddenly, he’s closer than you expected, the space between you charged with something you can’t quite name. “This is nice,” he says, his voice quieter now, almost reverent. You nod, the words caught in your throat. “Do you ever feel like...” He trails off, his gaze fixed on the horizon. “Like there’s something just out of reach? Like you want to grab it, but you’re scared of what happens if you do?”

Your heart thuds. “All the time.” His gaze shifts to you, his expression unreadable. For a moment, you think he’s going to say something—something that will change everything. Instead, he leans back, letting himself float. “Good thing we’ve got the whole summer,” he murmurs.

You’re not sure if he’s talking to you or himself. But one thing is clear: you’ll spend every moment of this summer trying to pull him closer.

The next morning, the cabin feels alive with the quiet rustle of summer. Birds trill in the trees, and sunlight pours through the open windows, a golden invitation to start the day. Hannah is already on the deck with a cup of coffee, scrolling on her phone when you step out. “You’re up early,” she says, not looking up. You shrug, trying to hide how restless you’d been all night after what happened at the lake. “Couldn’t sleep.”

She raises a brow but doesn’t press. “Josh is down at the dock,” she says, nodding toward the lake. “Probably sulking. You know how he gets.”

You hesitate. “Why’s he sulking?”

She snorts. “Because the rest of the group isn’t getting here until tomorrow. You’d think one day without his entourage wouldn’t kill him.” You glance toward the lake. the memory of last night. Josh’s quiet words, the way the moonlight danced in his eyes, it's still fresh in your mind. “You should go,” Hannah says, smirking now. “Cheer him up. Or stare at him some more. Whatever works.”

“Hannah!” But she’s already gone, slipping back into the cabin and leaving you with no choice but to head toward the dock.

Josh is sitting on the edge of the wooden dock, his feet dangling in the water. The air smells like cedar and the faint tang of sunscreen. for a moment, you almost turn back. But then he glances over his shoulder and sees you. “Morning,” he says, his voice softer than usual. “Hey,” you say, stepping onto the dock and sitting a few feet away. For a while, neither of you speak. The lake stretches out before you, endless and still, and it feels like the world has shrunk to just the two of you.

“Big day ahead of us,” Josh says eventually, his tone laced with sarcasm. “Yeah,” you reply, matching his smile. “So many exciting activities. Staring at trees. Staring at water. Staring at each other.” He laughs, and the sound is warm and unexpected. “Careful. I might think you’re obsessed with me.” Your stomach flips, but you keep your voice light. “Who says I’m not?”

Josh looks at you then, really looks at you, and for a second, you wonder if you’ve said too much. But instead of teasing, his expression softens. “I don’t get you sometimes,” he says quietly.

“What do you mean?” He shrugs, kicking at the water. “You’re just...different. Not like everyone else.” oh boy. “Good different or bad different?” you ask, your heart in your throat. Josh doesn’t answer right away. His gaze shifts to the endless forest, and when he finally speaks, his voice pangs through you.

“Good,” he says. "Definitely good.”

The rest of the day is a blur of lazy activities—helping Beth organize the kitchen, listening to Hannah’s playlist on the deck, and avoiding Josh just enough to keep your heart from imploding. By sunset, the air is thick with the anticipation of the group’s arrival tomorrow. Hannah flops onto the couch beside you, phone in hand. “Sam says they’re leaving first thing in the morning,” she says. “So, enjoy the quiet while it lasts.”

“Quiet?” Beth calls from the kitchen, laughing. “Have you met us?” Hannah rolls her eyes. “You know what I mean. Tomorrow it’s going to be chaos. Jess and Emily bickering, Chris and Ashley pretending they’re not totally in love, Matt trying to keep the peace...and then there’s Josh.”

“What about Josh?” You ask before you can stop yourself. Hannah gives you a look. “You tell me.”

That night, you find yourself back at the lake, drawn by the same restless energy that kept you up the night before. You don’t plan on skinny dipping again—it feels too risky with everyone around—but the water calls to you anyway, soothing and eternal.

And maybe, just maybe, Josh feels the same right now.

You’re sitting on the shore, toes dipping into the cool water when you hear footsteps behind you. “Couldn’t sleep again?” You don’t have to turn around to know it’s him. “I could say the same to you,” you reply, glancing back. Josh sits beside you, his shoulder brushing yours, and the warmth of him is enough to set your skin buzzing. “It’s weird, isn’t it?” he says after a while.

“What is?”

“Being back here. Without... you know. Adults. Rules.” You nod, the weight of his words settling over you. “Feels different.”

“Yeah,” he says, his voice quieter now. “Makes you think about stuff.”

“Like what?” you ask, heart pounding.

Josh doesn’t answer right away. Instead, he picks up a stone and skips it across the water. One, two, three perfect skips before it sinks. “Like what happens next,” he says finally. “For all of us. Feels like everything’s about to change.”

You don’t know what to say to that. So, instead, you reach for your own stone, throwing it as hard as you can. It skips once before plunking into the water. “Guess I’ll just have to stick around and figure it out,” you say, keeping your voice light.

Josh looks at you, his eyes shadowed and searching, and for a moment, you think he’s going to say something. what you want to hear, maybe. something important. But instead, he smiles, that same lopsided grin that’s been haunting your dreams for years. “Good,” he says.

“I’d miss you otherwise.”

The cabin feels too small the moment the others arrive. It’s a blur of bodies, laughter, and chaos as the others spill into the space, dragging in bags, cooler boxes, and enough energy to wake the dead. It’s not that you mind them—you’ve known most of Josh’s friends for years, but something about the way the cabin hums now feels different. The tight, intimate bubble you’d shared with Josh, Hannah, and Beth is gone, replaced by noise and the easy rhythm of their group. You feel...adrift, to say the least. And watching Josh slip seamlessly back into his role as the charismatic center of attention only makes it worse.

By the time night falls, the cabin is alive with music, the sharp pop of bottle caps, and the low buzz of conversation. You find yourself perched in a corner of the living room, a half-empty drink in hand, watching the others like a ghost at your own party.

Josh is at the center of it all, as always. He’s standing near the couch, laughing at something Sam said, and the sound is enough to send your stomach twisting into knots. Sam, of course, is radiant—effortlessly pretty in her cropped sweatshirt, her hair catching the light like spun gold. She’s animated, gesturing with her hands, and every time Josh leans closer to hear her, you feel like the room tilts off its axis. “Hey,” Hannah says, sliding in next to you with a knowing look. “You okay?”

“Yeah,” you lie, taking a sip of your drink. Hannah snorts. “Subtle.” You glance at her, frowning. “What?”

“You know what,” she says, tilting her head toward Josh and Sam. “Seriously, if you’re going to keep looking at him like that, you might as well do something about it.”

“I’m not looking at him,” you protest weakly. Hannah rolls her eyes. “Sure. And I’m not your best friend.” She pauses, watching you for a moment before her expression softens. “Look, you’re not exactly subtle when it comes to Josh. But for what it’s worth? I think he’s just as clueless about how he feels as you are.” Her words settle into your chest, a mix of hope and frustration, but before you can respond, Jess calls out from the other side of the room.

“Hey! Who’s up for Spin the Bottle?” You couldn’t escape it, let's be honest.

You don’t know how it happens, but somehow, you end up in the circle. Maybe it’s the drinking, or maybe it’s Hannah giving you a pointed nudge as everyone sits on the floor, but before you know it, you’re sandwiched between her and Ashley, your pulse pounding in your ears. Josh is directly across from you, his green eyes bright in the firelight. Sam is to his left, Jess to his right, and the knot in your stomach tightens. “Okay, ground rules,” Jess says, grinning wickedly. “No chickening out. You spin, you kiss. Period.”

There’s a chorus of laughter and a few groans, but no one protests. Chris goes first, spinning the bottle with dramatic flair. It lands on Ashley, who blushes furiously but leans in to kiss him. The group erupts in cheers and wolf whistles, and you can’t help but smile despite yourself.

One by one, the bottle makes its rounds. Jess and Emily kiss, Matt kisses Ashley despite him protesting, and eventually, it’s Josh’s turn. He spins the bottle with a lazy flick of his wrist, the glass neck twirling endlessly before it slows, stops, and lands on Sam.

Your stomach drops.

“Oh, come on,” Jess says, clapping her hands. “This is gonna be good.” Josh raises an eyebrow, glancing at Sam. She shrugs, smiling, and leans forward.

You can’t look away.

Their lips meet in a brief, playful kiss—nothing dramatic, nothing earth-shattering. but it’s enough. Enough to make your chest ache, your fingers tighten around the drink in your hand. When they pull apart, everyone cheers again, and Josh laughs, rubbing the back of his neck. “Your turn,” he says, handing the bottle to Sam. But you don’t care. You’re too busy swallowing the lump in your throat, trying to ignore the way your vision blurs at the edges.

Later, when the game ends and the group begins to disperse, you slip outside, the cool night air a welcome relief from the suffocating cabin. The lake stretches out before you, dark and endless, and for a moment, you let yourself breathe.

“You okay?” The voice startles you, and you turn to see Josh standing there, hands in his pockets. “I’m fine,” you say quickly, brushing at your eyes. He frowns, stepping closer. “You sure? You looked kind of...I don’t know, off.” You force a laugh, crossing your arms. “I’m fine, Josh. Really.” For a moment, he just looks at you, his brow furrowed like he’s trying to figure out a puzzle.

“You’re a terrible liar,” he says softly. The words hit harder than they should, and before you can stop yourself, you snap. “What do you want me to say, Josh? That I didn’t love watching you kiss Sam? That it didn’t suck seeing you two all cozy earlier?” His eyes widen, caught off guard, and for a second, you regret everything. But then his expression shifts—something softer, something almost...guilty.

“I didn’t...” He trails off, running a hand through his hair. “I wasn’t trying to...” You shake your head, wrapping your arms tighter around yourself. “Forget it. It’s not your fault.” Josh hesitates, like he’s weighing his next words carefully. “I wasn’t trying to hurt you,” he says finally, his voice barely above a whisper.

You glance at him, your heart aching at the look in his eyes—conflicted, searching. “I know,” you say quietly. “It’s fine. Really.” But it’s not fine. And as you turn back toward the cabin, leaving Josh standing by the lake, you can’t help but wonder if this summer is going to break you before it’s over.

The sun hung low in the sky, painting the cabin in hues of orange and gold. The group was scattered—Jess and Emily were bickering over sunscreen, Chris and Ashley were curled up on the deck talking in low tones, and Sam was by the lake with Hannah, skipping stones. It was all too perfect, too idyllic, except for the hollow ache in your chest.

Josh had been avoiding you all day.

It wasn’t like he was being obvious about it—Josh had a knack for slipping into conversations, filling the room with his sharp wit and charm like nothing was wrong. But you felt it. In the way his eyes would dart past you when you entered a room, the way his laugh seemed just a little louder when you weren’t around.

And maybe you were just as bad, lurking in the corners, pretending not to notice how often he touched Sam’s arm when they talked.

Written across your heart was all of your will to make him see—make him realize there was no in-between. There was either you and him, or the hollow echo of “I’m so sorry for your loss.” And wasn’t that what it felt like already? Like mourning something that never got the chance to live?

But it was his fault, wasn’t it?

For making you want him so much that your heart bled angel tears. For teaching your lips to sing sweet once-upon-a-times about a boy who was all sharp edges and hidden softness, who didn’t realize how much space he took up in your world.

By late afternoon, you found yourself back at the lake. It had become your refuge, the only place where you could breathe without the weight of Josh’s absence pressing against your ribs. Your toes skimmed the water’s edge, the cool ripples kissing your skin. You weren’t thinking about anything in particular—just the endless horizon, the way the light danced on the surface of the lake. But then a voice broke through your thoughts.

“You hiding out here now?” You didn’t have to turn around to know it was him. Again.

“Maybe I am,” you said, your voice sharper than you intended. Josh sighed, stepping closer. You could feel the heat of him at your back, the way his presence wrapped around you even when you didn’t want it to. “Look,” he said finally, his voice softer. “About the other night...” You turned to face him, cutting him off. “It’s fine, Josh. You don’t owe me an explanation.”

“Yes, I do.” His eyes—those endless green eyes—searched yours, his expression uncharacteristically serious. “No, you don’t,” you said, forcing a smile. “We’re friends. That’s all we’ve ever been, right?”

Josh flinched, like the word “friends” was a physical blow. “I didn’t mean to hurt you,” he said quietly. For a moment, you believed. But then you shook your head, stepping away. “You didn’t, Josh,” you said. “I’m fine.”

That night, the group decided to make a bonfire by the lake. The air was thick with laughter, the sharp scent of burning wood mingling with the sweetness of roasted marshmallows.

You sat with Hannah and Beth, listening as Chris tried to tell a ghost story that kept getting interrupted by Jess’s sarcastic commentary. Josh was across the fire, sitting next to Sam. He wasn’t touching her, wasn’t even looking at her, but it didn’t matter.

Your hair cascaded like Niagara under the firelight, your lips so soft—even if he had never felt them under his. Josh couldn’t stop looking at you. Your eyes glowed like an eternity, and your voice—when you laughed at something - it was the only antidote he’d ever had for all those sleepless nights.

He didn’t know how to fix this.

Didn’t know how to reach across the chasm that had opened between you since that stupid game of Spin the Bottle. And maybe it was selfish—maybe it was cruel—but he wanted you to look at him the way you used to. Like he was something worth believing in.

The fire burned low as the group began to drift off, one by one. Eventually, it was just you and Josh, the silence between you heavy and unspoken. “Shouldn’t you be with Sam?” you asked, your tone biting. Josh frowned. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

“Nothing,” you said quickly, standing. “I’m going to bed.” But before you could leave, his hand shot out, catching your wrist. “Wait,” he said, his voice urgent. You froze, refusing to look at him. “Can we just—” He hesitated, his grip loosening. “Can we talk?” You pulled away, your chest tightening. “Not tonight, Josh.” He didn’t stop you this time, and as you walked back to the cabin, you felt the weight of his gaze on your back.

Neither of you slept that night.

The stars were muted behind a veil of clouds, the air heavy with the promise of rain. The cabin was quieter now. Days of forced smiles and lingering silences had worn you thin, and tonight, you found yourself outside again, pacing the gravel path that led to the lake.

You didn’t mean to cry.

It started as an ache in your chest, spreading to your throat until the tears came unbidden, hot, and relentless. You wiped at them furiously, hating the way they betrayed you, but the anger only made it worse.

How could he be so blind?

You heard footsteps behind you, familiar and deliberate. You didn’t need to turn around to know it was Josh. “Go away,” you said, your voice raw.

He didn’t.

“Hey,” he said softly, his tone careful, like he was afraid you’d shatter if he spoke too loud. “What’s wrong?” You laughed bitterly, the sound hollow in the stillness. “You really have to ask?” Josh shifted, running a hand through his hair. “Look, if this is about—”

“It’s not about Sam!” you snapped, whirling to face him. “It’s about you, Josh. It’s always about you.” His brows furrowed, confusion flickering in his green eyes. “What are you talking about?” You threw your hands up, frustration spilling over. “Do you know what it’s like? To feel like you’re screaming into the void, hoping, praying, that someone will hear you? To love someone so much that it hurts, only for them to act like you don’t even exist?” Josh’s expression shifted, the confusion replaced by something deeper, something raw.

“I—”

“You don’t get it,” you interrupted, your voice breaking. “You never have. And maybe that’s my fault. Maybe I should’ve said something years ago, but I didn’t, and now... now I can’t even look at you without feeling like I’m suffocating.” The tears came harder now, and you didn’t bother to stop them. Josh took a step closer, his jaw tight, but he didn’t speak. “Say something,” you demanded, your voice trembling. “Anything.”

He didn’t.

The silence stretched, thick and suffocating, until you shook your head, a bitter laugh escaping your lips. “Of course,” you said, turning away. “Why did I even expect—” But before you could take another step, his hand caught your arm, spinning you back toward him.

And then he kissed you.

It wasn’t soft.

It was desperate, messy, like he was trying to say all the words he couldn’t find through the press of his lips. His hands cradled your face, grounding you even as the world seemed to tilt beneath your feet. For a moment, you froze, too stunned to move. But then your hands found his shirt, clutching the fabric like it was the only thing keeping you from falling apart. When he pulled back, his forehead rested against yours, his breath uneven.

“I’m sorry,” he whispered, his voice barely audible. “I’m sorry I didn’t see it sooner. I’m sorry I made you feel like this.” Your chest ached, the anger draining from your body as quickly as it had come. “Josh,” you started, but he cut you off, his green eyes locking onto yours. “I don’t deserve you,” he said, his voice cracking. “I know I don’t. But you’re all I think about. You always have been.” The words broke something in you, and the tears came again, but this time, they weren’t born of anger or frustration. “Then why didn’t you say anything?” you asked, your voice trembling. “Because I’m a coward,” he admitted, a humorless laugh escaping his lips. “Because I’m an idiot who didn’t realize what he had until he almost lost it.” You stared at him, your heart pounding in your chest.

“I don’t want to lose you,” he said, his hands still framing your face. “I can’t.” You didn’t trust yourself to speak, so you did the only thing you could: you kissed him.

This time, it was softer, slower, filled with all the things you couldn’t put into words. And when you pulled back, his lips curved into a small, hesitant smile. “Does this mean you’ll stop avoiding me?” you asked, your voice shaking with a mix of laughter and tears. Josh chuckled, pressing another kiss to your forehead. “You'll start wishing I would."

The first low rumble of thunder rolled across the sky as you and Josh lingered, the sound so faint at first that you barely noticed it. But then it came again, louder this time, accompanied by a flash of light on the horizon, pulling you both from your kiss. You glanced up at the clouds gathering above, your chest tightening. Josh followed your gaze, a grin tugging at his lips. “You afraid of a little rain?” Before you could respond, the heavens opened up. The rain came in a sudden, torrential downpour, drenching you both in seconds. You yelped, the cold droplets soaking through your clothes as Josh let out a startled laugh. “Come on!” he shouted over the sound of the rain, grabbing your hand.

He led you up the path, past the cabin and deeper into the woods where a small gazebo stood, tucked beneath a canopy of trees. The structure was simple but charming, with its whitewashed beams and ivy creeping up the sides. Inside was a weathered but cozy couch, draped with soft blankets that someone—Hannah, probably—had left there.

You stumbled under the shelter just as another crack of thunder split the sky. The sound was deafening, but you couldn’t help laughing as you leaned against one of the beams, rainwater dripping from your hair and clothes. Josh stood across from you, his hands on his hips, his shirt clinging to his chest in a way that made your heart race all over again. His hair was a mess, dark strands sticking to his forehead, and yet he looked unfairly good—smiling at you like this was the best night of his life.

“Well,” he said, shaking water from his hair, “so much for staying dry.” You rolled your eyes, wrapping your arms around yourself. “You think?” He stepped closer, his grin softening into something warmer. “Here.” He reached for one of the blankets on the couch, shaking it out before draping it over your shoulders. His fingers brushed your arms as he adjusted it, and you shivered, though it wasn’t from the rain. “Thanks,” you murmured, your voice quieter now.

Josh sat beside you on the couch, his arm resting along the back as he leaned into the cushions. The rain pattered against the roof of the gazebo, a rhythmic hum that filled the silence between you. “You know,” he said after a moment, his voice low, “I kind of like this.” You glanced at him, eyebrows raised. “Getting caught in a thunderstorm?”

“No,” he said, chuckling. “Being here. With you.” You looked away, focusing on the rain streaking down the gazebo’s wooden beams. “Josh...” “Hey,” he said, his voice softer now. You felt his hand brush against yours, tentative, like he was testing the waters. “Look at me.” You turned to face him, your eyes meeting his. The rain softened the world around you, muting everything except the warmth in his gaze.

For a moment, neither of you spoke. It was just the two of you, sitting close on that old couch, the rain falling like a curtain around the gazebo. You could feel it, that familiar warmth creeping up within you, curling in your stomach every time Josh was near. Your heart thuds as his rough palm drags itself up your exposed thigh. Before you could stop yourself, the words rushed out of your mouth. “I’m a virgin!” Your face flushed a deep crimson as soon as the words left your lips, and you immediately covered your face with your hands in embarrassment.

Josh froze for a beat, his hand still resting on your thigh. You could feel his gaze on you, but you didn’t dare look up. And then, to your surprise, you heard him laugh softly, the sound low and warm. “Wait... really?” he asked, his voice filled with amusement but also something softer, something affectionate.

You peeked up at him, still hiding half of your face behind your hands, the flush on your cheeks deepening. “Yeah, really,” you mumbled, not sure whether you were embarrassed or relieved to finally say it out loud. Josh’s grin widened, and there was a playful glint in his eyes as he leaned a little closer. “I gotta admit, that’s a little... surprising.” He paused, his tone teasing but gentle. “But, hey, no rushing." Your heart skipped a beat at the thought of him being your first. You nodded, your eyes searching his face, still unsure whether to be embarrassed or... maybe a little proud?

His hand gently moved from your thigh to rest on your knee, his thumb brushing over your skin in slow, reassuring circles. “Don’t be embarrassed,” he said quietly, his voice soft. “I'm not trying anything unless you want to.” You looked up at him, meeting his gaze, and found only kindness there— no teasing, no judgment, just understanding. And somehow, that made everything feel a little easier. "I do want to... you know.." The words won't come out. “Still,” you muttered, “it’s... kind of awkward, don’t you think?” Josh chuckled, that warm smile never leaving his face. “Don't think so” he said, his voice low and serious now, “if you’re gonna share something like that with anyone, I’m glad it could be me."

You nod, scooting closer to him, palms now flush on his chest. his eyes scan your every inch, and you try to look away, but he captures your lips into another kiss. his lips trail down to your neck with a low "can I?" And you hum, trying your best to stay quiet as you get used to the feeling.

in no time, you're under him, both entangled, half naked and out of breath. he finally pulls off your panties, tossing them to the floor as he spreads your cunt wide open with two of his fingers, and god, you looked so erotic, all shying away as he loomed over, fingers playing with your pussy. "You ever torched yourself like this before?" You nod bottom lip captive between your teeth. "J-just a little..." Oh, god. "You're so beautiful, fuckㅡ" And he's already losing his mind. Nights of fantasizing couldn’t have prepared him for this.

placing his palm behind your knee, he lifts up your legs, laying light pecks onto the plush of your thighs, thumb now tracing down to your puffy clit. Josh starts slowly, swirling his finger and still kissing your soft flesh. "Thank you for letting me do this." tracing the entrace with his index, he pushes his finger slow and deep inside, and you arch against him. this was it. he was where all of his dreams led him to. you looked like something straight out of a 80's porno. cunningly, josh moved his finger, and before you knew it he added another one. you squeezed perfectly around his digits, the sounds you and your pussy made driving him to the brink. "You hear that?" he asks, curling up his fingers, the wet sounds amplifying. "don't think I've ever had a pussy this wet before..." you whimper ans wrigle under his hold. "Josh.."

"What? It's the truth." he chuckles, speed picking up, his other hand now flush to your lower belly. "Want you to come. Can you do that for me?" he looks up, doe eyes searching for yours, and you can already feel your body convulsing. it didn't take long for you to finally give in and gift him what he asked for, coming just from his fingers. the way you thighs squeezed together, trapping his hand between them, soft pleads dripping from your lips like honeyㅡ he was done for. you were embarrassed, to say the least, hiding your face into his shirt he had taken off long ago. "Stop that, heyㅡ look at me, baby." Baby. did you just come again? "You did great. so good." he leans in over you, pressing a soft kiss on the bridge of your nose. "Do you wanna keep going?" and you say the most eager 'yes' known to man. "i got you." he smiles, eyes tracing every curve of your body. he takes off his pants along with hus briefs, letting his shaft spring free, small pearls of precum already gathered at the tip.

your eyes opened. what the fuck? is that normal? you knew your first would hurt, but seeing what Josh had going on for him you knew it would be the most painful experience for you yet. "Don't worry. I'll go slow." he stumbles a bit back, grabbing a hold of his trousers, palming his pockets before he mutters a soft 'there we go.' and takes out a shiny wrapperㅡ a condom. the opens it and carefully takes it out, lining it with the tip of his aching cock. "If you ever wanna stopㅡ" he start, whilst rolling the condom down his length. "Tell me. Yeah?" you nod.

taking his length into his fist, Josh pumps it a few times before he aligns it with your entrance that trickled with juices. he lets it slip in, and your eyes close as tears threaten to fall. you claw at his back, but Josh kisses you as he slides in some more, your walla wrapping perfectly around himㅡ just like it was meant to be. "It's okay, you're okay, baby."

after going in the last couple of inches, he starts to move, gently holding down onto your waist as he lets you adjust. "Doing so food for me."

just a few strokes after he feels you wrapping your legs around his hips, urging him deeper. "Please.." You plead, the sweetest sounds escaping your plump and swollen lips, and he swears he could come just by that. "Fuck, yeah, okayㅡ" he groans, with the way your teary eyes stared up at him. He starts to move his hips, harder, deeper, each sound you made an encouragement. His palms make his way under your back, pulling you up, almost to sit on his lap. He fucks up into you, your arms lazily draped over his flexed shoulders whilst his lips kiss soft blooms onto your chest. you clench around him. "J-Josh..." he shakes his head, laughing as his fingers dig deep into your flesh where you know bruises will appear later. "Don'tㅡ ha, I'm gonna come if you keep doing that." whines slip past your lips as his speed picks up. "Shit, shitㅡ" he pulls you closer, lips now stuck to your neck like a locket. "Y-you gonna come?" he prys. "Mhm.." you squeal as your eyes roll back. "Go ahead, for me." that's all it took. you come once again, nimbly wrapping around josh like a vine, walls squeezing him so tight. your mind goes blank, only soft moans gripping your throat as Josh pumps into you, finally releasing inside of the condom with a few thrusts.

you both breathe heavily, hearts beating in a sing-song, as you come down from your high. realization sets in as you meet each other's gaze. it was real. it really just happened.

"You okay?" he leans in, pressing a lazy kiss onto your lips. "Yeah... How okay can one be after having sex for the first time..?" and he laughs, playing with the strands of your hair. "Thank god for the rain covering the sound. You were super loud just thenㅡ"

"Josh!"

[igglemouse]

Hey look who's here to kick off my day, Niklas, the man of destiny himself. I'm not surprised but he is sporting a big smile on his face which I love to see! It's supposed to be Summerday, by the way, but as you can tell the weather here doesn't really think so.

"I was thinking," Niklas says after I invite him inside, his cheerful mood radiating off of him and bringing a smile to my face too. "It's summer, maybe we can go out and do some summery stuff?"

"Oh?" I glance at one of the windows and peer beyond the glass to see the dreary gray morning that is common here oft times in Windenburg. "It sure doesn't feel like summer."

"That's Windenburg for you!" he agrees with a laugh and yeah, can't argue there but what kind of summery things can we do with a day like this?

"What did you have in mind?" I ask.

"Just something simple, maybe, head out to the public pool?"

I can't help but smirk and tease him a little, it is a good idea buuuut I have a feeling I know why he's thinking about a little date out to the pool. "Ah, wanting to see me in a swimsuit then?"

So we head to the Bathe De Rill and thankfully we're a little early so the pool is pretty much empty. It's also raining which probably explains the lack of people but honestly why would rain stop a trip to the pool? You're going to get wet any ways, so what's the difference? Ah well, public pools are no fun if there's too much of a crowd.

After a few casual laps, nothing competitive, but we both use enough energy so that we had to pause and catch our breaths giving us a perfect time to start a conversation. "So, any water tricks you can show me?"

"Hmm? No," he gives his head a little shake, wading restlessly in the water. "It's always hard to manipulate the elements. Fire, water, air, those forces take a lot of skill and power to get a handle of."

"I can imagine but you're telling me you have no tricks at all!?" He's so lame sometimes! "Not even a bubble or a little sprout of water or-"

"Oh, I know a trick I can do with water?" He says but his tone is a little too playful now and it makes me suspicious of what he might say next and yet I can't help but ask.

"Yesss?" my eyes narrow, knowing the set up suddenly, it's going to be a lewd joke isn't it?

"I can show you later tonight."

Ugh, I knew it! Let me guess, something something make me wet something something? Yeah, that's He's also snickering like a child too as if he's told the most clever of jokes! All I can do is groan, roll my eyes, and float over to the edge of pool to make my exit.

He follows me outside of the pool and we both decide to hang out a little longer here. For a while we just walk, letting ourselves dry with the help of a very mild sun and a slight breeze but eventually we find somewhere to stop. Away from the trickle of people who have waited out the rain to visit the famous Bathe de Rill. I am mostly focused though on his watch, there is something about it that draws the eyes, it looks ordinary and yet clearly it isn't.

"So is that thing waterproof?" I ask, my eyes glaring at it as if it had asked me a question instead.

"Yea, fireproof too. It can withstand a lot, it's...well, it's very old. My great grandmother had her house burned down in a fire, attempted arson we think, but she later retrieved it in the ashes as if it were brand new."

"That...that thing seems pretty powerful?" Fire usually is all powerful, after all, it's like pure energy. Fire kills everything, doesn't it? Except for his watch I guess.

He shrugs as if it the answer was obvious. "Yeah, it is, but honestly it's a passive kind of power. Not an active kind of power."

"So you say it points you to where you need to be but for what purpose like...is it trying to help you succeed or..."

Another shrug. "Simply where I need to be, whatever that means. It's not always serving me, at least that's what I've been told but honestly I don't think my father even knows what it does."

"What do you mean?" I ask, because the more I hear about it the more confusing it gets. He used it to claim that that we were meant to be but what if it dragged him my way for another reason?

"It's...hard to explain," he rubs the back of his neck for lack of a better answer. "It's not trying to make me rich or anything, it's just simply...where I need to be."

"Ugh, I'm starting to understand why you avoid magic!"

I head back home with Niklas because by the time we left the pool night had fallen and you know he insisted on walking me home. He warned of vampires and werewolves and the mothman and bigfoot too...okay, he only warned me about vampires because he seriously has a hatred for them.

Either way, I mentioned to him that he couldn't stay long because I had some cleaning to do and once again he deployed his magic to help me out. Cleaning the tub with a few swirls of his arms and some sparkly sparkles on top of it and voila, a clean tub! Yeah so, that's a neat trick! I'd be fine with just learning that honestly.

Also, yes, he never did change out of his swimshorts? Yeah so, that was my day, I guess I made the most of it.

Episode List - Next Episode 3.3

[i2rizz]

We Fell In Love in October

Fandom: Blue lock

Characters: Chigiri x reader

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The crisp autumn air nipped at your cheeks as you walked through the park, the leaves crunching under your boots. The world was painted in hues of red, orange, and gold, and despite the chill in the air, you felt warm. Maybe it was the way the sun filtered through the trees, casting everything in a golden glow. Or maybe it was the way Chigiri Hyoma walked beside you, his hand brushing yours with every step.

You glanced at him, your heart fluttering when you caught him smiling softly at the trees overhead. His long, red-pinkish hair fell in waves over his shoulders, catching the light like something out of a dream.

“Why are you staring?” he teased, not even looking at you but clearly aware of your gaze.

“Because you’re pretty,” you replied, grinning when his cheeks flushed a light pink that rivaled his hair.

You hadn’t expected to fall for Chigiri, not like this. You’d met during the summer, at a mutual friend’s party, where he’d spent most of the evening sitting alone on the porch, sipping a soda and watching the stars. You’d joined him out of sheer curiosity, and before you knew it, the two of you had spent hours talking about everything and nothing.

By the time autumn rolled around, you were inseparable. There was something easy about being with him, like the two of you existed in your own little world.

“Let’s sit here,” Chigiri said, gesturing to a bench under a massive oak tree. The ground was covered in fallen leaves, their vibrant colors contrasting against the dark wood of the bench.

You sat beside him, pulling your coat tighter around you as the wind picked up. He noticed and shrugged off his jacket, draping it over your shoulders without a word.

“You’ll freeze,” you protested, but he just shook his head.

“I’ll be fine. You, on the other hand, are terrible at hiding when you’re cold.”

You laughed, leaning into him. “Guess I’m lucky to have you, then.”

He hummed in agreement, resting his head on top of yours. The silence between you was comfortable, filled only by the rustling of leaves and the distant laughter of children playing.

“Do you ever think about how we got here?” you asked after a while, your voice soft.

Chigiri lifted his head to look at you, his expression curious. “What do you mean?”

“I don’t know. Just…how we met, how quickly we became close. It feels like it was meant to happen, you know?”

He considered your words for a moment before nodding. “I get that. Sometimes it feels like you’ve been in my life forever.”

There was a vulnerability in his voice that made your chest tighten. You reached out, threading your fingers through his, and gave his hand a reassuring squeeze.

“I’m glad we met,” you said, your voice barely above a whisper.

“Me too,” he replied, his lips curving into a soft smile that made your heart skip a beat.

As the sun began to set, casting the park in shades of pink and purple, Chigiri turned to you with a glint of mischief in his eyes.

“Want to do something stupid?” he asked, already standing and tugging you to your feet.

“What kind of stupid?” you asked, laughing as he led you toward the pile of leaves under the oak tree.

Without answering, he let go of your hand and jumped into the pile, sending leaves flying everywhere. You stared at him in disbelief before bursting into laughter.

“Hyoma, you’re such a child,” you teased, but he just grinned up at you from the pile of leaves.

“Come on, live a little,” he said, holding out his hand.

You hesitated for only a moment before taking it, letting him pull you into the pile with him. The two of you ended up tangled together, leaves clinging to your hair and clothes as you laughed like kids.

“This is ridiculous,” you said, trying to catch your breath.

“And yet, you’re smiling,” he pointed out, his own grin softening into something more genuine. “You’re beautiful when you smile, you know that?”

Your laughter faded, replaced by a warmth that spread through your chest as he leaned closer. His eyes searched yours for a moment before he closed the distance, his lips brushing against yours in a kiss that was as gentle as the falling leaves.

When the two of you finally pulled apart, Chigiri rested his forehead against yours, his breath mingling with yours in the cool air.

“You know,” he said, his voice soft, “I think I’m falling for you.”

Your heart swelled at his words, and you smiled, brushing a stray leaf from his hair.

“I think I’m falling for you, too.”

And as the two of you lay there, surrounded by the colors of autumn and the fading light of the day, you realized there was nowhere else you���d rather be.

Because falling in love with Chigiri Hyoma felt as natural as the changing of the seasons, as inevitable as the leaves falling from the trees.

------------‐---------------------------------------

[heavenbloom]

🇵🇸 BEFORE YOU READ: DONATE • BOYCOTT TLOU • GAZAN MUTUAL AID MASTERLIST

❆ — 𝐦𝐨𝐨𝐧𝐥𝐢𝐭 𝐰𝐢𝐧𝐭𝐞𝐫

song: the night — lovewave

summary: a letter addressed to abby anderson, twenty years after the two of you parted.

warnings: 18+ mdni, literally straight up angst, letter format, from reader’s pov, set in the future, not proofread.

a/n: this is entirely inspired by moonlit winter (2019). this’ll probably be boring af but i love love that goes beyond time and the physical and i love mundane yet emotional movies <3

The icy air nipped at your fingertips, the chill tracing unforgiving trails from them to the bottom of your soles.

The snowfall was thick this time of year and it painted the small town in hushed tones. The only thing heard in the white noonday was the laboured crunch of your boots and the heave of your breath against your thick woollen scarf.

The cold barely registered, though, as you dipped your hand into your coat pocket. The thin, glossy edge of an envelope crinkled at the contact.

How could something so small and hidden conceal a whole lifetime within it? It felt like it was burning a hole where it sat, yearning to reunite with your being, to settle there and remain a secret.

The sound of your footfalls ceased, and you let out a slow exhale. A plume of air swelled in front of your vision, softening the edges of everything.

The post office box was rimmed with ice. It stood as lonesome as you did, on this drowsy street, in a town you knew so well now, yet not nearly enough as you should have. It was hard to be a part of something when you always had one eye gazing back at the past.

This would hopefully change that. A parting gift. A farewell to somebody you had said goodbye to long ago.

You reached for the letter.

⋆⁺₊❅.

Dear Abby,

It’s been a long time, hasn’t it?

I don’t know if I will send this letter, but I can imagine the look on your face if you ever do receive it. Bushy, furrowed brows and downcast eyes… you never looked up when you were puzzled about something. It was if you had to retreat into yourself in order to make sense of the world around you.

The woman that I see receiving this is youthful and vibrant, forever frozen in the sands of my memory. Lines have begun to etch my features, and with each year that passes by, they deepen. It must be the same for you. It has to be, right? But the image of you, aged, eludes me.

I often imagine what kind of person you are now. Did you ever marry? Have children? Do you live in a house with a garden bursting with the smells of overripe berries and fresh herbs, like the one we fantasised about owning all those years ago? These are the reveries that have teeth, that sink and gnaw at something unspoken within me.

I did know you, once, but I’m unsure I do now. Does the soul change over time, or just the meat and bone that surrounds it?

I’ve experienced more of my life with your absence as opposed to your presence. I moved to a quiet corner of the world and made a life for myself. The summers here are mild and the winters are the never-ending and silent kind that we never saw back home. It’s somewhere that you would despise.

Maybe that’s why you plague my mind so often. This town is a place where I know you’d never find yourself in. Back then, I was running away from you and in a way, I still am. Like visiting an attic that one knows is haunted, I think of you.

I dream of you, too. Mundane, meaningless. Nothing happens in these dreams, but you’re there, shining. A wisp of blonde hair, the starlight of a freckled shoulder… the same.

I guess this sameness is what compelled me to write this. I’ve been walking through my life with my head craned back towards the past, so much so that I couldn’t see where I was headed. Now I’ve stopped, in the middle of it, in this purgatory. It can’t go on, Abby. At some point, I have to turn to face the future. I should have long ago.

I’m made up of regrets, but what good will they do now? Instead of listing the should-haves, I’ll tell you the truth;

This is not the first letter I’ve written that’s dedicated to you, but it will be the first I’ve ever had the courage to send. Let it be the last.

I’m sorry if what we shared has also left you with scars and an endlessness of seeking. I’m sorry that I was cowardly, and that I still am.

Thank you for the sliver of sweetness that you gave to me. Thank you for loving me like you meant it. I hope you know that I meant it, too. Everything I did, every word and every touch, was honest.

But I have lived with its death. Now I must let it rot.

Goodbye, Abby. Be braver than I am.

[whosscruffylooking]

steve harrington x fem!reader Open Arms Masterlist word count: 9k Rewrite/Character Insert of Stranger Things ~1984~ a/n: this is the final rewrite chapter for season 2. the next few chapters will take place between seasons, before we jump into season 3. i'm torn between having the reader and steve already happily in love, or building their relationship with a slower, more gradual "slow burn" approach. let me know if you have a preference on which direction you'd like to see their story go. ⠂⠄⠄⠂⠁⠁⠂⠄⠄⠂⠁⠁⠂⠄⠄⠂ ⠂⠄⠄⠂☆

The house is still. Despite the number of people inside, everything—and everyone—feels frozen. The air hangs heavy, dense enough that even a falling leaf would plummet straight down instead of drifting aimlessly.

In that oppressive silence, Nancy’s hand rests gently on Jonathan’s shoulder as he murmurs soft, repeated apologies to his unconscious brother. Hopper’s voice thunders from another room, shouting into the phone at God knows who. The stark contrast between Jonathan’s whispered pleas and Hopper’s roaring urgency only adds to the weight pressing down on all of you.

Your gaze flicks between Jonathan, Nancy, and Steve. But Steve’s attention is fixed entirely on her. His expression is unreadable, a puzzle you can’t help but want to solve. Slowly, you step closer, your heart pounding as you search his face for some unspoken answer buried in his eyes. As if sensing your approach, Steve straightens, brushing a hand over his face in a failed attempt to mask the quiet sniffle that escapes. When his bloodshot eyes finally meet yours, you feel a pang of something you can’t quite name—pity, frustration, or maybe just the ache of knowing him so well.

This is the Steve you��ve always known—bold and self-assured, with a fiercely loyal heart that makes him impossible to walk away from. But tonight, his edges are frayed, his armor cracked under the weight of everything he’s faced. He doesn’t just observe the heaviness in the room; he feels it, wearing it like a second skin. As he watches Nancy with Jonathan—her hand on his shoulder, her gaze soft in a way Steve hasn’t seen in years—the truth settles quietly: Nancy isn’t his anymore. Her heart belongs to someone else. Yet instead of hurt, Steve feels peace—peace in letting go and realizing he might finally belong somewhere too.

Steve’s gaze shifts back to you, his jaw tightening, his hand flexing at his side as though resisting an urge he can’t quite act on. His eyes hold an intensity that sends a shiver through you. It isn’t the first time you’ve seen him look at you like this, but now it feels heavier, more deliberate.

His hand brushes lightly across your stomach, guiding you to follow him, his silent invitation impossible to ignore. He leads you into the kitchen, where he leans back against the counter. You steady yourself beside him, your fingertips accidentally grazing his, sparking a thrill of nerves. You hold your breath, unsure of what he might do now that Nancy’s here, lingering so close. But instead of pulling away, he surprises you—sliding his finger between yours, linking them together. In that small, quiet gesture, he says everything: I’m here. We’re here, and we’re in this together.

You both stay there, fingers subtly intertwined, as the kids reminisce about Bob.

Your mind drifts back to that summer you washed cars tirelessly, saving every dollar for a Walkman. You remember the pride you felt when you finally walked into RadioShack and handed Bob your hard-earned cash. He showed you how to use it, and from that day on, whenever he saw you, he made sure you knew about the latest and greatest models. He ignited your love for collecting them, and in a way, he fed your love of music. Bob is a hero, gone far too soon. Now, a fierce need for revenge against those monsters burns within you, alongside a deep desire to honor the memory of Bob Newby, the town’s unsung hero.

“We can’t let him die in vain,” you say, breaking the silence.

Dustin huffs in frustration. “Well, we can’t take down those Demo-dogs on our own.”

“Demo-dogs?” Max repeats, confused.

He shoots her an irritated look. “Demogorgon dogs. Demo-dogs. It’s like… a compound word. A play on words…”

You raise your eyebrows, giving Max a sarcastic nod. “Yeah, Max. Keep up.” She giggles despite the tension.

“There’s an army now,” Lucas says, his tone filled with doubt.

Mike’s voice cuts through the chatter. “His army.”

Steve perks up, his focus shifting. “What do you mean?”

The group gathers closer, ideas bouncing back and forth as Dustin pieces it together, dubbing the creature “the Mind Flayer.” You lean against the table, feeling Steve’s gaze on you again, steady and unwavering.

Nancy notices too, her eyes darting between the two of you. She sees the fear flickering in your eyes and the fierce determination in Steve’s to shield you from this nightmare. But it’s more than determination—there’s an intimacy there, a connection that echoes a past she knows the two of you share. She should feel jealous; after all, she spent the last year with this man, the one now looking at you like you’re the most precious thing he’s ever known. As Jonathan’s hand brushes hers, she feels something else—guilt.

Nancy squeezes Jonathan’s hand, grounding herself, but her gaze flicks back to Steve one last time.

⠂⠄⠄⠂⠁⠁⠂⠄⠄⠂⠁⠁⠂⠄⠄⠂ ⠂⠄⠄⠂☆

Here’s the next section revised into present tense:

At last, the plan is in place. You split into groups, and you find yourself alongside Jonathan, while Nancy and Steve head into the shed to transform it into something unrecognizable for Will.

“So… you and Nancy, huh?” you tease, nudging Jonathan lightly.

His cheeks flush, and he glances away. “Is it that obvious?”

“Not really. I just like to think I know you well enough to tell when you’re truly happy.”

He sighs, his shoulders sagging under the weight of everything that’s happened. “I shouldn’t be, though. While I was with Nancy, Will was here… suffering.”

“Jonathan,” you say gently, your voice firm, “you weren’t just off with Nancy. You were uncovering the truth, fighting for justice for Barb, and exposing something that could have swallowed Hawkins whole. When we get Will back, he’s going to be so proud of what you did to help stop this.”

You rest a hand on his arm, offering reassurance, and for a moment, Jonathan meets your eyes. There’s gratitude in his expression.

In the shed, Nancy and Steve work tirelessly, stapling whatever they can find to the walls in a desperate attempt to reach Will. The air between them feels lighter, but there’s still a lingering tension, a subtle unease that neither of them wants to name.

Nancy hesitates, stealing a glance at Steve before swallowing her pride. “Hey. What you did—helping the kids, keeping them safe… that was really cool.”

Steve blinks, surprised by the compliment. Not long ago, her words chipped away at every ounce of confidence he had—in himself, in his worth as a boyfriend, even in the kind of man he wants to be. But now, as her words settle in, it isn’t Nancy he’s thinking about. It’s you.

He thinks of all those years when he’d felt a nagging emptiness—not smart enough to impress his teachers, not strong enough to earn his father’s respect, not sure he’d ever be the guy to win over the girl. And yet, through it all, you’ve been there. You were always there, quietly anchoring him in a way he hadn’t fully understood until now. All those fleeting touches, secret smiles, and stolen moments with you—the girl everyone teased him about, the one he swore he wasn’t in love with—have built something stronger than he ever realized.

The Steve of yesterday might have begged Nancy to reconsider, to tell him she’d made a mistake and still loved him. But the Steve of today doesn’t need to. He knows now that Nancy wasn’t meant for him, just as he wasn’t meant for her. He had known it the day he found her and Jonathan in the Byers’ living room, their hands bound by blood, their connection undeniable. They belong together, and maybe they always have.

But Steve also knows where he belongs now. For so long, he believed that love meant chasing, proving, or convincing someone to choose him. Yet when he looks at you—standing just outside the shed, picking up an axe with confident hands—it’s like the weapon belongs to you. You hold it naturally, without hesitation. Steve feels a pull so steady and certain it leaves no room for doubt. He doesn’t have to beg for your love because it’s already there, as it’s always been.

Nancy notices it once again. There’s that same feeling from earlier—guilt. Guilt for trying to mold Steve into a part of her life that never truly fit. Deep down, she has always known where her heart belongs. And now, watching the way you and Steve gravitate toward each other, she realizes something else: maybe his heart has never fully belonged to her either. The way he looks at you—like you’re the only thing keeping him from crumbling under the weight of it all—it’s a look she’s never seen him give her. And somehow, someway, she’s at peace with that.

You step into the shed, your steps hesitant as you cross into the quiet space. “Am I interrupting something?” you ask, your voice tentative.

“No! Not at all,” Nancy says quickly, offering you a smile that’s softer than you expect. “Actually, thank you. For everything. You didn’t have to get involved in all this, but we really need you.”

You blink in surprise at her sincerity but manage to find your voice. “Of course. I just… I wish I could’ve done more sooner. And I’m sorry. For… for Barb and everything else.” There’s a double meaning in your words, one that lingers unspoken, but you hope Nancy hears it anyway.

Silence settles between the three of you, awkward but not hostile. “Well,” you say, stepping back toward the door, “I guess you guys have it covered in here. I’ll, uh… I’ll let you get back to it.”

You leave quickly, your heart racing for reasons you can’t quite pin down. But as you glance over your shoulder one last time, you catch Steve watching you. You nod, and he smiles—soft and sure, like he’s been waiting for this. Then you step into the night, his gaze still lingering in your mind.

⠂⠄⠄⠂⠁⠁⠂⠄⠄⠂⠁⠁⠂⠄⠄⠂ ⠂⠄⠄⠂☆

While Joyce, Mike, Hopper, Jonathan, and Will are all out in the shed, the rest of you stay inside.

You wait in the dim living room with Steve, backs pressed against the wall. Tensions are high, but in this quiet moment, with danger pressing in around you, both your walls are down.

“So…” you start, biting your lip as you realize you’ve spoken just to fill the silence, only to find yourself without anything to say.

“So.”

“Are we… good?” you ask, the words barely more than a whisper.

Steve leans his head back against the wall, his Adam’s apple bobbing as he swallows down the lump that’s been there every time you two have drifted to the edge of this conversation over the years.

“I don’t think we’ve ever been this perfect.”

There it is. The words hang heavy in the air, and tears spring to your eyes.

He starts again, his voice softer this time. “Friends don’t make each other feel like this.”

“Like what?” you ask, genuinely confused.

“Like if one of those monsters bursts through that door, there’s a chance I could lose my everything. My whole world. And there’s no chance I’d survive if that happened.”

“Y-your whole world… meaning?” The words catch in your throat, the weight of them hitting you before you can make sense of them.

He nods, his eyes locked on yours, confirming every word he just said.

“Not… not…” You glance toward the other room, where Nancy is sitting, unsure if you want the answer.

“No.” His voice is barely above a whisper, but it’s firm. The vulnerability in his eyes is so raw it almost breaks you.

Your heart races. His whole world. You don’t need him to say anything else—the depth of what he’s admitting is clear, and yet you can’t find the words to match it. The truth of it hangs between you, painful and perfect, all at once.

Finally, after what feels like an eternity, you speak, your voice trembling but steady. “Then I guess we have to survive tonight… so we can have a very important conversation tomorrow.”

Steve sighs, his gaze shifting upward as he stares at the ceiling, clearly lost in thought. His breathing catches slightly as he imagines what he wants, growing heavier with each passing second. “If we get out of here, I wanna do a lot more than just have a conversation with you.” He finally looks back at you, his eyes dark with intent, a smirk tugging at his lips.

You swallow, your heart thudding in your chest, caught off guard by the sudden shift in energy. You shift closer to him, trying to match his teasing intensity, but your voice comes out softer, playful despite the tension. “Then you better not let anything stupid happen to you tonight, Harrington.” You raise an eyebrow, a hint of challenge in your tone.

Right on cue, the ominous roars of the Demodogs reverberate in the distance. You, along with everyone else, rush to your feet.

“They’re coming!” Dustin announces.

“He found us,” you whisper.

Those who were in the shed, along with an unconscious Will, rush inside, their faces drained of color as the roars outside grow louder. Nancy grabs your axe from the table and extends it to you, a hint of mischief and excitement in her eyes. She secretly gets a thrill out of this, just like you do.

Your grip tightens around the axe, a firm resolve anchoring you. Just days ago, you didn’t even know the Upside Down—or the horrors within it—existed. But tonight, it’s as if you’ve been preparing for this moment your whole life. You look to Steve and tap your axe to his bat in solidarity. You’re ready to face whatever comes, together. There’s so much to defend now—not just your friends, not just your own life, but the fragile, precious hope of a future you’ve waited so long to finally feel within reach.

You all gather together, a mismatched group bound by a shared resolve, ready to fight with everything you’ve got to save your friend—and the town you call home. For Bob, you think.

The sound of the creatures’ footsteps surrounds you from every corner outside the house, making it impossible to pinpoint where to aim your weapon. Their skin-crawling screeches and chittering seep through the walls, sending an icy chill down your spine.

“What are they doing?” you ask, breathless with fear.

Suddenly, the screeching cuts off, and one of the creatures comes crashing through the window, glass shattering in every direction. You all step forward cautiously, you more than the others. After a tense moment, you tap it with your axe. “It’s dead.”

Before you can catch your breath, you hear the front door’s lock turn. In sync, everyone shifts their attention toward it. The door creaks open, and in walks a girl—dressed in all black, her hair slicked back, jeans unevenly cuffed. A trickle of blood runs from her nose.

This must be El—the girl Mike is in love with, the one everyone was so sure had been lost forever.

Mike rushes to Eleven, asking, “Why didn’t you tell me you were safe?” His joy quickly fades when he realizes Hopper has been the one hiding her. A fight erupts and Hopper rushes Mike into the next room.

Eleven turns to rejoin her friends, but her sharp, assessing gaze lands on Max. You step forward with a gentle smile, determined to diffuse the tension.

“I’m Y/N,” you say softly. “I’ve been hoping to meet you.”

El’s expression shifts slightly, her features softening as her piercing glare toward Max wanes. She seems to recognize something in you—an ally, not a threat.

“Thanks,” Max murmurs quietly, the relief evident in her voice.

You glance toward Steve, Nancy, and Jonathan, then back to Max, offering a knowing smile. “Believe me,” you say with a touch of humor, “I get it.”

Max’s lips twitch into a tentative smile, and for the first time, El’s icy demeanor seems to thaw just a bit. A quiet chuckle passes between you and Max as she begins to piece together the reason behind El’s frosty reception.

⠂⠄⠄⠂⠁⠁⠂⠄⠄⠂⠁⠁⠂⠄⠄⠂ ⠂⠄⠄⠂☆

Once everyone settles, you all reconvene to finalize the next steps now that Eleven is here to close the gate to the Upside Down. There’s a tension in the air, a quiet urgency to everything. Every minute counts, but there’s no room for fear—not now. The stakes are higher than ever, and all of you can feel it.

The plan is set: to free Will from the beast’s grip, he’ll need to experience intense heat. The thought of what he has to go through sickens you, but you know there is no choice.

Once again, you split into groups. Steve’s gaze lingers on you as you organize everything. It’s clear he wants to stay close, to keep you safe. And you want the same. But you can’t let that get in the way. There’s no room for distractions now.

Nancy, on the other hand, hesitates. Her eyes flicker to Jonathan, and you see the guilt in her expression—she wants to go with him, knowing he’ll be heading to Hopper’s cabin with his mom and Will. But something keeps her rooted to the spot. The ghosts of old decisions, the moments when she chose Jonathan over Steve, seem to haunt her every step. You know how she feels, even if she won’t admit it. It’s a complicated web, and there’s no way out but through.

Taking a steadying breath, you volunteer Steve and Nancy to sift through the yard junk for heaters. They both look at you with surprise, clearly not expecting to be sent together again. But you know they need this moment, this chance to work together. Maybe, just maybe, it’ll give them a bit of closure. Something to put the past behind them. It’s not much, but it’s a step.

They reluctantly go, and you busy yourself with whatever you can do to help the kids inside. It feels like everything is moving so fast, the world spinning, and you’re just trying to hold on.

Outside, Steve and Nancy busy themselves with the junk pile. The silence feels like it lasts an eternity.

“You should go with him,” Steve says to Nancy, his tone quiet but firm.

Nancy looks up, confusion written across her face. 

“With Jonathan,” he states.

She scoffs, shaking her head. “No, I’m not just gonna leave Mike.”

Steve steps closer, picking up a heater she’d found and handing it to her gently. “No one’s leaving anyone, Nance. I may not have been the best boyfriend, but… turns out, I’m actually a pretty damn good babysitter. And besides…” He glances towards the house, where you’re trying to hold everything together, “I have help.”

Nancy looks at him, her voice softer now. “Steve…”

He smiles a little, though it’s tinged with something bittersweet. “It’s okay, Nance. It’s okay.”

There’s a long pause, and then Nancy’s eyes soften, her shoulders drooping in a way that shows the weight she’s carried for so long. “You know, I’m glad…” she says quietly, hesitating before finishing, “I’m glad you have… help.” She nods slightly in your direction.

Steve exhales deeply, feeling something in him finally loosen, as if Nancy’s words have given him permission to finally let go of the lingering tension. It’s a relief, but also a sad one. Because it’s not the resolution he wanted, but it’s the one that’s here. And for once, it feels like the first step towards peace.

“I actually have something I want to ask her,” Nancy says, giving Steve a quick squeeze on his arm as she walks away.

Nancy finds you inside, her hand gently grabbing your arm. “Hey, can I ask a favor?”

You look at her, unsure of what she’s about to ask. It’s strange, given everything that’s happened. Nancy’s been with both of your childhood friends, and you… well, you’ve been secretly in love with her ex. The air between you is thick with unspoken history and tangled emotions.

“Can you look after Mike for me?” Nancy asks quietly, almost nervously. “You’ve always been like a big sister to the boys, and… well, I can’t be there for him right now.”

Without thinking, you pull Nancy into a tight hug. “You know I’ll protect him like he’s my own little brother,” you reassure her softly, your voice steady despite the chaotic feeling inside.

Nancy lets out a shaky sob, her voice breaking. “I’m scared.”

You pull back slightly, wiping away a stray tear from her cheek. “I know. But if anyone can handle all of this, it’s you. In case you haven’t noticed… you’re kind of a badass,” you say, trying to lighten the mood just a little.

She chuckles, though it’s muffled by her tears. “Thanks,” she says quietly, her voice still cracking, but there’s a spark of something in her eyes—maybe hope.

You hold her for a moment longer before she pulls away, offering you one last sad smile before heading out.

As she walks away, you spot Mike, standing alone in the corner, his face a mask of quiet devastation. His tears are falling silently as he watches the girl he just got back slip away from him once again. Without thinking, you walk over to him and wrap a comforting arm around his shoulders. No words are needed. He doesn’t need to hear anything right now. All he needs is to feel your silent support, your steady presence in the storm.

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Inside, the kids have come up with a bold plan to help Eleven and Will. It’s risky, but it just might work. It requires going into the tunnels buried deep beneath Hawkins, the map that Will made. You can see the logic in it, but Steve is having none of it.

“Hey! This is not happening. No buts. I promised I’d keep you guys safe, and that’s exactly what I plan on. We’re staying here. On the bench. And we’re waiting for the starting team to do their job,” Steve says, his voice unwavering, protective.

“Does everybody understand?”

“This isn’t a stupid sports game,” Mike fires back.

“I said, does everybody understand that? I need a yes.”

You suppress a giggle at Steve’s surprisingly maternal tone. He’s serious, but there’s something comforting in it too—something that makes you feel, for a second, like everything will be okay.

Just as the tension peaks, the roar of an engine cuts through the air, making everyone jump. Max rushes to the window, her face draining of color. “It’s my brother. He can’t know we’re here. He’ll kill us.”

“Crap,” you mutter under your breath, panic setting in.

“What?” Steve asks, his frown deepening.

“I kind of forgot I had a date with Billy tonight.”

“You what!?” Steve exclaims, his eyes widening in disbelief, his frustration bubbling over. “You had a date with Billy?”

“I was bored, and he asked me out last week. I wasn’t looking for anything more than a distraction,” you explain quickly, trying to downplay the situation.

“And you had to pick him as the distraction!?” Steve says, voice dripping with exasperation.

“Steve, this is really not the time to have this conversation,” you say, nudging him toward the door, trying to push aside the tension building between you two.

You quickly motion for the kids to hide, and despite his irritation, Steve swallows his pride and steps into action, focusing on getting Billy out of the way. His annoyance with you fades—momentarily—as the bigger picture takes precedence.

Peering through the peephole of the door, you try to hear what’s going on outside, but the muffled voices barely reach you. All you can make out is that, somehow, both men look equally stunning in their jeans. Truly, works of art.

But it’s Steve who keeps your attention. This is King Steve in his prime. He’s cool, collected, calm in the face of danger—no trace of fear in his demeanor. It’s a side of him that always caught your eye, but now, in this moment, seeing him like this, your heart pounds in your chest. It’s a protective side of him, the side that would do anything to keep you safe.

Suddenly, both men turn toward the window.

You snap your head over and see the kids, wide-eyed and standing at the window like idiots. “What did I tell you!?” you whisper-yell, panic creeping into your voice. You turn back to see Billy slam Steve to the ground, his strength too much for the man to handle in the moment.

“Get behind me!” you shout to the kids, feeling the urgency in your voice.

Billy crashes through the door, his expression shifting from rage to surprise when he sees you standing there.

“Y/N,” he says, voice dripping with a mix of venom and curiosity. “You’re the last person I expected to see here. Although, I’ve heard some… interesting things about you and Harrington.”

You square your shoulders, refusing to show even the slightest trace of fear. “I guess now’s as good a time as any to tell you I can’t make it to our date tonight.”

“No,” Billy sneers, closing the space between you. “I don’t want Harrington’s sloppy seconds anyway.”

He takes another step, his breath grazing against your skin. “Now step aside, and let me talk to my sister.”

You push your fist gently against his chest, unflinching as you meet his eyes. “Billy, don’t. They’re just kids—let them hang out and have fun.”

Something dark flashes across his eyes, his patience thinning. “I said, step aside,” he growls, pushing past you with force and locking his gaze on Lucas. You stand your ground, knowing you’re not backing down. You’ll protect these kids, no matter what.

“I thought I told you to stay away from him, Max. And you know what happens when you disobey me. I break things.” He sweeps Lucas off his feet and slams him into the refrigerator. You run to his side attempting to pull him off of Lucas, to no avail. 

“Billy, stop!” You grab hold of his arms. He looks at you for a brief moment and Lucas takes the opportunity to knee him in the crotch. Billy doubles over, wincing in pain.

“You’re so dead, Sinclair! You’re dead,” he spits, his voice full of fury as he glares at Lucas.

Before you can even process what’s happening, Steve bursts in, shoving you and Lucas behind him, positioning himself between you and Billy with a protective stance.

“No. You are.” He says before landing a solid punch to Billy’s jaw.

Billy laughs menacingly, his voice dripping with mockery. “Looks like you’ve got some fire in you after all, huh? Been waiting to meet this King Steve everyone’s been talking about.”

“Get out,” Steve warns, his tone cold and steady.

And like a trigger, Billy is launching another punch at Steve. Thankfully, he evades it and rebuttals, his fist making contact with Billy once more. Billy swiftly recovers, his movements sharp and brutal. He grabs a plate from the nearby counter and smashes it onto Steve’s head, sending shards flying everywhere and disorienting him. Billy drives a knee into Steve’s throat. Steve gasps, choking at the impact.

You lunge forward, desperate to defend Steve, but he manages to choke out a barely audible, “No.” Billy seizes the opportunity, his attention quickly shifting to you, sensing your hesitation. Before you can react, he lunges at you, his hands reaching for your throat.

But Steve, still struggling to regain his strength, forces himself to push through the pain. His vision is blurry, and his head spins, but the sight of you in danger snaps him into action. With a growl of determination, he forces himself up, gritting his teeth against the pain as he tackles Billy to the ground, knocking him off balance.

Billy lets out a shout of anger, but Steve is relentless. He fights through his disorientation, throwing punch after punch, not allowing Billy a moment to recover. "Stay away from her!" Steve snarls, his voice filled with pure protectiveness as he shields you with his body.

Their struggle quickly moves into the living room, the sound of their grunts and the thud of fists against flesh filling the air. Billy, fueled by anger, overpowers Steve with brutal force. He pins Steve to the ground, delivering a hard punch to his jaw that sends a jolt of pain through Steve's entire body.

Fully depleted now, Steve endures blow after blow as Billy’s fists rain down on him. You want to cry, but the tears won’t come. Your body refuses to let you break down—not now. There’s no time for that. All that matters is thinking clearly and protecting your best friend.

The sedative. Where is the sedative they used on Will? Adrenaline surges through you as you search frantically, finally spotting it next to Max.

“MAX!” you shout, motioning to the syringe. She quickly hands it to you, and you rush to Steve’s side. With a swift motion, you jam the needle into Billy’s neck, pushing the plunger and releasing the toxin.

Billy looks at you, shock flooding his expression. Your breaths are uneven as you take a step back, trying to steady yourself. He staggers to his feet, the sedative starting to take hold. “What did you do to me?” he demands, his voice laced with disbelief.

“Don’t you ever touch him again,” you growl, stepping right into his space, daring him to make another move.

The silence after your shout feels suffocating, broken only by the shallow, ragged breaths coming from Steve. His bloodied face is pale, far too pale.

“Steve, please,” you whisper, your voice trembling. “You promised me, remember?”

He stirs faintly at your words, his lashes fluttering, but his eyes remain closed.

“Lucas! Dustin!” you shout, desperation cracking through the last fragile shred of composure. “Help me get him up! Now!”

The boys rush over, wide-eyed and terrified. Together, they help lift Steve’s limp form, his head lolling against your shoulder. You cradle the back of his neck with one hand, holding him close as you stumble toward the car.

Max’s tearful voice barely registers, sharp and angry as she shouts at Billy. But you can’t care about him. Not now. Not when Steve is barely conscious.

“I swear to God, Harrington,” you mutter through gritted teeth, your voice tight with anger and fear.

You glance down at him as you help load him into the backseat, your hand trembling as it brushes over his bloodied cheek.

Reluctantly, you climb into the driver’s seat, stealing one last glance at him before gripping the wheel. Only a few days ago, you’d driven him home drunk from a party, his laughter slurring together as he teased you the entire ride. You never thought you’d be doing the same thing now—except this time, with blood on his face and fear in your chest.

“Where to?” You ask. “The pumpkin patch, we’ll direct you,” Mike replies. The engine roars to life, the car lurching forward as you tear down the road. “Keep him awake, guys,” you say, glancing into the rearview mirror. The boys nod hurriedly, their voices soft but urgent as they try to rouse him.

Dustin shakes Steve a little too aggressively. “Hey, buddy...It's okay. You put up a good fight. He kicked your ass, but you put up a fight. You're okay.” 

The car jolts over a pothole, and you wince, glancing back. “Sorry,” you murmur, guilt twisting in your stomach.

Steve’s head shifts, his lips parting like he wants to say something, but all that comes out is a faint, pained sigh.

“Don’t even think about talking,” you snap, though your tone softens almost immediately. “Save it. You’re gonna need all your strength in a minute and don’t eyen get me started on tomorrow when I chew you out for this.” You force a bitter laugh, the sound more broken than you mean for it to be. “Trust me, Harrington, I will.”

A low groan escapes him, and his head turns slightly toward you, as if he’s trying to acknowledge your words.

Your hands tighten on the wheel as the car screeches to a stop outside the pumpkin patch. The boys jump out, voices overlapping as they shout about getting their supplies and jumping into the tunnels. But you stay frozen for a moment, staring back at Steve.

“I meant it, you know,” you whisper, leaning back to catch one last glimpse of his face. “You’ve got one night to pull yourself together, Harrington. Because tomorrow? You and I—we’re not leaving anything unsaid.”

His swollen lips twitch into a faint smirk. “Oh, I’m holding out, alright. For what I’m planning to do to you when all this is over.”

Your breath catches, and you freeze, staring at him. “You’ve got to be kidding me.”

He lets out a weak, pained chuckle. “What? You think I’m gonna go down without giving you something to think about?”

You scoff, trying to keep your composure, though the heat rising in your cheeks betrays you. “Hawkins is literally falling apart, Steve. You’re half-dead, we’re about to crawl into another dimension, tomorrow could change everything between us, and that’s what you’re focused on?”

“Gotta have priorities,” he murmurs, the smirk still somehow hanging on despite the pain etched across his face.

You roll your eyes, but there’s no hiding the way your heart stumbles in your chest. “Unbelievable,” you mutter, shaking your head. “Just try not to get yourself killed before you can make good on all these big plans, Harrington.”

His smirk softens just slightly, something warmer flickering in his gaze before his eyelids grow heavy again. “Wouldn’t dream of it.”

“Now c’mon, let’s go play with fire,” you say with a wink before stepping out of the car.

“Wait! Wait!” Steve calls after you, hobbling out of the car despite the pain etched on his face. “You and the kids are not going down there,” he insists, his voice firm, though his winces betray him.

You spin around to meet him, crossing your arms. “Right. Because you’re clearly in peak condition to handle this yourself,” you retort, your tone dripping with playful sarcasm.

Steve takes a sharp breath, steadying himself. “It could be another ambush,” he counters, his voice softer now but laced with concern. His hand reaches out, catching your arm gently as if holding you in place will keep you safe.

You glance at his hand, then back at him. “Well…” You slip your hand into his pocket, fishing around, which earns you a heavy sigh and a wide-eyed stare from him. His breath hitches, his cheeks tinged pink.

“What are you doing?” he manages, his voice cracking slightly.

You pull out his lighter and hold it up with a smirk. “Good thing we have fire and they don’t,” you say, a teasing glint in your eye.

Steve exhales sharply, running a hand through his hair as he shakes his head. “You’re gonna be the death of me,” he mutters, half in awe and half exasperated, but the small grin tugging at his lips gives him away.

“Now is not the time for your soap opera romance, people! Focus! Your job is to keep us alive,” Dustin grumbles, shoving bandanas and your weapons at both of you like an annoyed parent.

You stifle a laugh as you take one and wrap it around your face. Then, turning to Steve, you adjust his for him, tying it snugly behind his head.

“Thanks, mom,” Steve quips, his voice muffled through the fabric.

“Hey, at least she knows how to multitask,” Dustin fires back, rolling his eyes as he marches ahead into the tunnels.

You drop down into the dark tunnels behind the others, the strange, glowing particles swirling in the air like tiny stars. It’s eerie—ominous, even—but there’s a haunting beauty to it that almost distracts you from the danger. Almost.

“I’m pretty sure it’s this way. Follow me!” Mike announces, charging ahead with way too much confidence.

Steve stops him with an outstretched arm. “Whoa, whoa, whoa. No way. If any of you get hurt—or worse—down here, it’s my head on the chopping block. From now on, I’m leading the way. Got it?”

The kids exchange uncertain glances, and you catch yourself smiling. Watching Steve take charge, all protective and responsible, makes your heart ache in the best way. He’d make an amazing dad someday—wait, what? Where did that thought come from? You shake it off quickly, heat rising to your cheeks. You haven’t even sorted out your feelings, let alone—

“Come on, let’s move!” Steve says, cutting into your spiral.

The kids glance back at you, silently asking for reassurance. You chuckle and wave them forward. “What are you waiting for? A formal invitation? A little hustle, huh? I’ll be right behind you.”

As you move cautiously through the twisting tunnels, the air feels heavier with each step. Pods of various sizes cling to the walls and ceiling, pulsing faintly as if they’re alive. The eerie glow from within them illuminates the otherwise pitch-black space, casting strange shadows.

You notice Dustin stop to inspect one of the pods, his curiosity getting the better of him. A pang of concern hits you, so you linger behind, keeping an eye on him to ensure he doesn’t fall too far back from the group.

“Dustin, don’t—”

Before you can finish, the pod above him bursts, releasing a spray of viscous fluid. Dustin collapses to the ground, screaming in terror.

“Dustin!” you shout, rushing to his side as panic sets in. He’s coughing and gasping, clutching at his face.

The others quickly double back, finding you crouched beside a flailing Dustin. “It’s in my mouth! It’s in my mouth!” he chokes out, his voice frantic.

You grab his shoulders firmly and try to make him focus. “Hey! Dustin, look at me. You’re fine! It’s okay!” His mask is soaked, so you pull it down and shake him lightly to break through his panic. “Breathe, okay? Just breathe!”

Finally, his gasps slow, and his breathing steadies as he leans into you for comfort. “I thought I was gonna die,” he mutters dramatically, clutching your arm like a lifeline.

From behind, Steve’s flashlight beam lands on you both, his expression a mix of exasperation and mild jealousy.

“Alright, Romeo,” Steve cuts in, stepping closer with a mock-stern glare. “Hands off.” He uses his flashlight to nudge Dustin away from you, shaking his head as the boy reluctantly lets go.

Dustin groans, “Come on, man. I almost died!”

Steve rolls his eyes. “You’re fine. Let’s move.”

Finally, you venture into the hub that Mike was speaking of.

“Let’s drench it,” you say, your voice steady and determined.

Steve nods in agreement, hefting a can of fuel. “You heard her. Let’s get to work.”

The kids scatter, pouring the fuel across the floor and onto the vines, their expressions grim as they focus on the task. You work alongside Steve, each of you silently mirroring the other’s urgency.

“Careful not to miss a spot,” Steve says, glancing your way.

“Don’t worry. I’ve got this,” you reply, pouring fuel over a particularly thick vine.

Nearby, Dustin struggles with his fuel can, muttering under his breath. “Why are these things always heavier than they look?”

Steve smirks and steps over to help, taking the can from him with ease. “Here, let me. And don’t spill it on yourself, genius, unless you’re volunteering to go up in flames.”

Dustin scowls but doesn’t argue. “I wasn’t gonna spill it. I’m not a total moron.”

“Debatable,” Steve teases, ruffling Dustin’s hair before handing the can back.

You glance at the kids, ensuring they’re staying safe and focused. “Alright, guys, keep spreading it evenly. We’re almost done.”

Lucas passes you, carefully pouring his fuel along the edge of the tunnel. “What if this doesn’t work?” he asks, his voice wavering slightly.

You crouch beside him, squeezing his shoulder gently. “It’ll work. We’ve got this.”

Once the fuel is spread, everyone regroups in the center of the hub. The tension in the air is almost suffocating as you all take a moment to catch your breath. You pull the lighter from your pocket, flicking it open and closed as you exchange a glance with Steve.

“Ready to light these bastards up?” you ask, your voice laced with defiance.

Steve adjusts the bat slung over his shoulder and gives you a small nod. “Ready when you are.”

The kids tighten their makeshift masks, and you do one last check of the group. Dustin looks pale but determined, Mike is fidgeting nervously, and Max’s expression is set with fierce resolve.

“Alright,” Steve says, his voice steady as he looks at the kids. “Masks on, stay close, and whatever you do, don’t breathe this crap in. Let’s finish this.”

You flick the lighter, the small flame dancing in the dim, oppressive air. For a second, the world stills. Everyone holds their breath, watching as you crouch and lower the flame to the fuel-soaked ground.

The fire catches immediately, roaring to life and snaking outward like a living thing. It licks up the walls and races down the tendrils of vine, consuming everything in its path. The flames glow an angry orange-red, casting the tunnels in an eerie, hellish light.

A deafening screech echoes through the chamber as the vines react violently to the fire. The tendrils convulse, writhing and snapping like cornered animals. They whip against the walls and ceiling, sending dust and debris raining down around you.

“Move! Move back!” Steve shouts, grabbing your arm and pulling you a safe distance from the inferno.

The kids scramble, their faces a mix of awe and terror as they watch the fire spread rapidly, overtaking the entire hub.

“What the hell!” Dustin yells, ducking as a tendril slams into the wall near him.

“It’s working!” Mike exclaims, his voice tinged with equal parts fear and exhilaration.

The vines’ convulsions grow more frantic, their shrill screeches reverberating in your ears. They thrash wildly, almost as if they’re alive—and dying. One massive tentacle swings dangerously close, slamming into a cluster of pods and sending a burst of fluid and ash into the air.

“We need to get out of here!” Max shouts, tugging at Lucas, who is staring in horrified fascination at the destruction.

Steve steps in, gripping Lucas by the collar and pulling him back. “Yeah, no sightseeing! Let’s go!”

You cast one last look at the flames, the fire consuming the heart of the Upside Down’s hold on Hawkins. The once-terrifying tendrils are now nothing more than flailing, dying beasts. For a moment, there’s a flicker of hope.

But the ground shakes violently beneath your feet, and you realize this isn’t over.

“Run!” you shout, ushering the kids toward the exit.

Steve keeps pace beside you, glancing back over his shoulder to make sure everyone is moving. “You heard her! Don’t stop for anything!”

The flames roar louder, the tunnel filling with chaos as the Upside Down fights back. The group is moving quickly through the winding tunnels, the glow of the burning hub fading behind you.

“Keep up, guys!” You call out, your flashlight bouncing off the walls as you attempt to find the exit.

Suddenly, Mike stumbles over a root jutting from the ground and crashes to the floor. Before you can help him up, a slimy tendril shoots out from the wall, wrapping around his ankle and yanking him backward.

“Mike!” you shout, sprinting toward him.

The tendril tightens, dragging him closer to the pulsing wall. Mike’s panicked cries echo through the tunnel as he claws at the ground.

“Help me!”

You  dive for his arms, your hands gripping him tightly. “I’ve got you!”

Steve spins around at the commotion, his eyes widening. “Stay on him!” he yells, rushing forward with his bat.

The kids surround Mike, grabbing onto his arms and torso as the tendril pulls with unnerving strength.

“Hold him!” Steve growls, swinging his bat at the vine. His first hit barely leaves a mark. The tendril writhes, nearly yanking Mike out of your grasp.

“Steve, hurry!” you shout, your muscles burning as you fight to keep your grip.

Mike’s voice is strained with panic. “It’s pulling me in!”

Steve delivers another blow, this time severing the tendril with a sickening snap. The vine recoils, flailing wildly before retreating back into the wall. Mike collapses into your arms, trembling and gasping for breath. “You okay?” you ask, brushing the dust off his face and pulling him into a quick hug. “I think so,” he croaks, his wide eyes darting to the now lifeless tendril. Steve leans down, resting a hand on Mike’s shoulder. “Hey, you okay?”

Mike nods weakly.

“Good,” Steve says, his voice softer now, though he glances at you briefly, the tension in his face still evident. “Let’s move before that thing decides to grow back.”

You stand, helping Mike to his feet. As the group regroups, you catch Steve’s gaze. “You did good,” you murmur. “Yeah, well, keeping you guys alive isn’t easy,” he replies, smirking faintly before turning to lead the way again.

Then, a deep, guttural growl stops you in your tracks. Dustin freezes, wide-eyed. “That’s… not good.”

From the darkness ahead, a massive shape emerges, slinking into view with an unnerving fluidity. It’s Dart. The Demodog’s slick, reptilian skin gleams faintly in the dim light, and its jaws part to reveal rows of razor-sharp teeth. It lets out a shrill roar, the sound ricocheting off the walls.

“Of course it’s Dart!” Steve groans, shoving the kids behind him. “Why wouldn’t it be Dart?”

Dustin steps forward, desperation on his face. “Wait, wait! Maybe he remembers me! I can calm him down.”

Steve grabs his arm, pulling him back. “Yeah, no offense, but your little monster is definitely not in the mood for a reunion!”

Dart crouches low, muscles tensing, ready to pounce.

Uh, guys,” you say, your voice trembling as you slowly pull out the bat Steve handed you earlier. “We’re cornered.”

Dart takes a cautious step forward, sniffing the air. His dark, soulless eyes lock onto you, then shift to Steve, who raises his bat defensively.

“Stay behind me,” Steve orders, his voice low but firm.

“I’m not hiding while you get mauled!” you snap, gripping your weapon tighter.

“Guys!” Mike yells. “We don’t have time for this!”

Dustin tries again, his voice trembling. “Dart, buddy, it’s me! Remember the nougat?” He pulls a crumpled candy bar from his pocket and holds it out, his hand shaking.

For a moment, Dart pauses, sniffing the air again. He tilts his head, the faintest hint of recognition crossing his monstrous features.

“It’s working,” Dustin whispers, inching forward.

“Now, go!” Dustin orders. Steve grabs your arm and pulls you forward, motioning for the others to follow.

The group moves in a sprint, darting toward the exit, not daring to look back. Behind you, Dart is still distracted, munching on the nougat.

You push yourself harder, the adrenaline of escape keeping you going. “Almost there!” you call out, knowing Dart won’t stay distracted for long.

Finally, the light from the exit hits your eyes. As you and the group prepare to exit the tunnels, the ground begins to shake. The walls tremble, and the air vibrates with a low, ominous rumble. Dust falls from above, and a low, guttural growl echoes through the tunnel. The unmistakable sound of hundreds of Demodogs heading your way.

“They’re coming,” you whisper urgently, your heart racing. You turn to Steve, your mind spinning with the mounting pressure. “We need to get out of here, now.”

He’s already helping the kids climb up to the hole in the ceiling, pushing them toward safety as fast as possible. But when it’s your turn, the panic sets in.

“Your turn,” Steve urges, pointing at the hole, trying to push you towards it.

You shake your head, your expression firm but laced with concern. “No. You go first.”

“Y/N, we don’t have time for this!” He insists, the sound of the Demodogs’ claws scraping against the floor growing louder.

“Then I’m staying with you,” you say, your voice unwavering. 

Your pulse quickens as you feel the ground shake harder, the sound of the Demodogs’ approach growing closer with every passing second. “Y/N, please—just go! It’s not safe.”

“I’m not leaving you,” you say, your voice full of determination. “Not now. Not ever.”

You meet his gaze, your breath catching in your throat. The panic is consuming you both, but his steady presence is like a tether, anchoring you in the chaos. You can feel the weight of his promise, the silent pledge to protect you no matter the cost. You hesitate for a moment, but then something clicks inside you. You’ve been through too much together, and you’re not about to let fear make the decision for you. Steve looks at you, his expression softening, though the worry still lingers in his eyes. He nods, his grip on you tightening as he pulls you closer.

Suddenly, the ground shakes again, and you hear the unmistakable sound of claws scraping against the tunnel floor. The Demodogs are close—too close. But then, as if by some strange twist of fate, the creatures don’t come for you. Instead, they race past you, heading in the opposite direction, their growls growing fainter as they disappear down the tunnel. You freeze, your mind struggling to make sense of it. Why aren’t they attacking? Steve tightens his hold on you, his breath shaky as he pulls you into a tight hug.

“Are you okay?” His voice is a whisper, full of relief but still tinged with concern.

You nod, still trying to process what just happened. “Yeah.” He pulls back just enough to look at you, his face full of worry and something else—a deep, unspoken relief. He brushes a strand of hair from your face.

“Let’s get out of here,” he says softly, his voice low and steady, his hand still firmly holding yours.

You and the kids stumble out of the tunnels, breathless and bruised. The night sky feels cool against your skin, a sharp contrast to the heat and chaos of the tunnels. But there’s no time to rest—you’re all still on edge, still feeling the tremors of what you narrowly escaped.

The first thing you notice is the light. A blinding, intense beam from the car ahead, cutting through the night and casting everything in stark relief. It’s almost overwhelming, too bright to look at directly, but as you squint into the darkness, you realize it’s the lights from the car, but something else is happening.

The car’s headlights seem to grow brighter with every passing second, as though mirroring the strength of Eleven’s power, forcing the rift to shrink back into itself. The ground trembles beneath your feet once again, but this time, it feels like something is being retracted, something is ending.

“Is it… over?” Max breathes, almost in disbelief, her voice raw from the tension.

Finally, just as the light from the car reaches its peak, it suddenly begins to fade. The ground stills beneath your feet, the air grows quieter, and the frantic pulse of energy that had been surging through the night starts to die down.

“It’s done,” Dustin says softly, a mix of wonder and disbelief in his voice.

Mike nods slowly, “She really did it.”

You turn to Steve. His eyes meet yours, and you can see it in the way he looks at you—relief, exhaustion, and something else. The world is slowly righting itself, and for the first time, you feel the quiet after the storm settle in your bones.

“It’s over,” you whisper to him.

A soft smile tugs at his lips. “Yeah… it really is.”

⠂⠄⠄⠂⠁⠁⠂⠄⠄⠂⠁⠁⠂⠄⠄⠂ ⠂⠄⠄⠂☆

The next day, the sterile white walls of Hawkins National Lab feel like a cold reminder of everything that happened. Doctor Owens moves through the room with practiced ease, checking your vitals with a detached professionalism, while he hands you a stack of non-disclosure agreements to sign. You nod, eyes unfocused, your mind drifting in and out of the haze of the previous night.

As you sign the papers, you catch a glimpse of Steve across the hall, another doctor checking on him. Your eyes meet for the briefest of moments, an unspoken connection hanging in the air before you quickly look away, your heart sinking with the weight of unasked questions. Did he mean it? Was it the chaos of the night, the adrenaline of survival, that made him say what he did? Or was there more to it?

After the checkups, you find yourself outside the lab, the fresh air offering little relief from the turmoil inside your head. Steve’s there, waiting for you, his expression uncertain but soft. “Hey,” he says, his voice low. “You okay?”

For a split second, you want to reach out, to let him comfort you, to talk about everything that’s been weighing on you. But the doubts won’t let you. Not yet. You force a tight smile, shaking your head. “I’m fine. Can you just give me a ride home?”

Steve nods, but his face falls, disappointment flickering in his eyes. You can see it—the same uncertainty that’s been eating at you, mirrored in him. He doesn’t push, doesn’t try to make it better. You get into his car in silence, the tension between you palpable. The ride home feels endless, the space between you growing with each passing mile.

Steve’s thoughts swirl as he drives. He can’t help but wonder if it’s the fear of last night still lingering, or if something deeper is at play. Maybe you don’t believe him, or maybe you’re just scared to believe it’s real. Either way, the distance between you both hurts in a way he didn’t expect. He thought that after everything, after all the danger, you two would finally have a chance to be honest with each other. But now, all he can do is drive, silently aching for a chance to bridge the gap—if you’d only let him.

[eruukat]

feeling many things rn. terrified abt a lot of life changes like switching majors and needing a new job and transportation changes and even stupid little stuff like fixing my hair or avoiding the roach thats hiding out under my bed. and then below all that is this simmering pot of butterflies about my partner. i knew our prev date was going to stir up a lot of feelings but im so. !!!!!!! idk if t4t love is just that insane and intense or if im just really really clicking with him but he might have the most beautiful smile ive ever seen. hes literally radiant and i think hes the first person to ever give me butterflies and after last date somethings *changed* and theyre like. still butterflies but different somehow. i dont know what im ready for but i think about him and his smile and i can imagine myself actually truly falling in love even though its just infatuation rn. but in the past imagining that felt more distant and i guess i didnt know what it would look like for me, but now i feel like i have an inkling or a possibility. i cant wait to see him again and hold him in my arms

[mochasucculent]

Kinda weird but this is still like one of my fave things I've ever drawn lol, it's just a background study from Shawn James' cover of Arkansas by Damien Jurado (there was a character here too once iykyk lol) but I was Going Through It at the time and painting this was soooo cathartic

[ratatatastic]

there is nothing more delightful than hearing forsy talk about fishing absolutely nothing more delightful than that so behold. forsy talking about fishing.

"More than just hockey, you're also a big fisherman. Why fishing?" "I don't know, it's something that I did growing up with my grandpa, my dad and my two brothers. It's a good way to relax and get your mind off hockey—Everything really in life. You're focusing on fishing and that's it." "So, when are you buying your boat here in South Florida?" "Well...we'll see. It's mostly a summer thing but I wouldn't mind a boat. I'm pretty simple like that! It's hockey, fishing and family-life. Yeah, that is pretty much it for me." "You're a simple man!" "Yep!" "It's good! It's probably why you're a good player 'cuz you got your focuses. You're locked in!" "Yeah, yeah."

WSFL Inside South Florida | 4.11.24 (x)

"When you disconnect—When you step away from the rink, what are some of the things you like to do over the course of the summer?" "I'm a big fishing guy, so that's pretty much all I do when I'm working out back home." "Where do you go to fish? Where are the big spots in Sweden?" "Can't tell you the best spots. Just around—We actually—Me and my fiancée just bought a house back home. We haven't seen it yet so it's gonna be fun to see the house by the lake...I'm gonna fish that way." "It is furnished? Or are you walking into an empty house?" "No, it's gonna be empty!" "Oh, that's a summer project!" "Yeah, so we got a lot of things to do." "What do you go for? What's the most exciting thing you've pulled in?" "I enjoy pike fishing. I love big pikes. That's probably my favourite." "Is that part of the off-season workout? I mean, the upperbody gets a good workout fishing." "Oh, yeah. I think it's a lot of mental, too! Like, a mental game. So, you know, you gotta stay patient. It's a lot of fun."

Territory Talk | 6.15.22 (x)

"First question, I gotta ask you. What's something recently—off the ice, outside of hockey—that's brought you joy?" "Ooh! When I'm home during summer usually I fish a lot. So, that's something I really enjoy. I've been doing a lot this summer...Yeah, fishing, I would say." "Fishing. That's something you do with friends, with family, by yourself?" "Yeah. Actually both. I fish with my brothers and my dad, and a lot of buddies." "That sounds great! That sounds like a nice way to unwind!" "It is!" "—And the total opposite sort-of mentality of hockey which is so 'go-go-go-go!' physical in-your-face." "Yeah, it's still very competitive. Fishing it's—but it's fun!" "When you're dealing with a professional athlete I can't imagine theres anything that's not at least a little competitive." "Exactly!"

Miami Mic'd Up | 10.12.23 (x)

"We're seeing you're a big outdoorsman... ya like fishing?" "Yeah. I love—I'm a big fisherman." "Yeah? Do you have any—Have you been on a big fishing trip? Or you've just been fishing in Sweden? Down there in Florida? Where you at and what do you like to fish?" "In Florida it's mostly deep sea fishing. I'm more a lake guy. I mean, I'm starting to get into it more here in Florida. Ekblad is fishing a lot, so, he took me out a couple times. It's pretty cool to get a big Tuna and stuff like that...but I'm more of a lake guy, I would say." "Does Ekky make you pull in the big fish? 'Cuz he already said how big and strong you are, 'throwing a 250'... He's like—he gives it over to you or what?" "Yeah, but he's got the whole electric stuff so he's—" "Oh, he's cheating! With the big rod riggers!" "Yeah! He rigs—" "He got into that a few years ago when I was down there with him. He's still into it, he's still on that deep sea stuff. I can never do it, it made me sick." "Yeah. Yeah, he is."

NHL Network | 3.14.24 (x)

man who absolutely wanted to be asked to reel in a big one by his partner but absolutely did not get the privilege because ekkys gone electric mourn for him hes want to be a big strongman and useful but now he cant because of technology.

but also the lakeguy vs seaguy fishing fued we got here is utterly delightful im not surprised if ekky took him out fishing just to try and convince him that its better can you imagine the amount of squabbles theyve got in over fishing. but also ekky took him out fishing. several times. like that happened. okay im gonna normal about that 👍

also not them damsel in distressing ekky like ohhhhh does he make you do the heavy stuff he talks soooooo much about how big and strong you are does he put you to work *bats eyelashes*

forsy, who really desperately wants to be put to work: no no he doesnt 😔😔

and here are just the multitude of photos of forsy fishing (redfin perches and northern pikes) over the years and posting it to ig and the captions are all filled with the weight and length of the fish like oh hes a real fishin boi give me those numbers (x)(x)(x)(x)(x)(x)

[savage-rhi]

MAGENTA.

[torchickentacos]

Literary devices, how I adore you... allusion, colloquialism, alliteration, metaphor, simile, juxtaposition (!!!!!!!), anntithesis, foreshadowing, imagery, symbolism, personification, irony, hyperbole???? All amazing.

[charmcoindied]

honestly though that was probably the most pleasant flight i've ever taken. the plane was very empty so they had to move my seat for weight distribution reasons which meant i got bumped up to main cabin extra and had so much leg room. i took a nap and watched a movie and it was a very smooth ride. ordinarily i don't enjoy flying on smaller jets like E175s but they're much more tolerable when they're not packed to the gills

[icannotgetoverbirds]

Listen. I am too disabled to work most jobs... in the United States.

Move me to Ireland or the UK, however, and suddenly the job market opens up much more for me. I don't suddenly become any less disabled - but labor laws in other countries, afaik, are so much better that my disabilities don't hold me back nearly as much anymore.

Back when I *was* working, i could barely handle my job as a host. i begged to be put on as a dishwasher, and my manager refused, despite the position having an incredibly high turnover rate. Because it was tiring and unrewarding and monotonous work.

She refused to believe that anyone could enjoy said work. I think she assumed that the only reason I wanted to be a dishwasher was for the higher pay. According to her, I was doing an excellent job as a host, despite the fact that it took everything in me to not go into a total shutdown halfway through my shifts 90% of the time.

Let me wash the damn dishes. Give me ONE fucking job and I will blow your fucking socks off.

But instead people are expected to do the work of two or more employees for the pay of one, so us bitches with switching-tasks-is-hell-disorder either have to suffer or find another solution/job.

Sigh.

[inbabylontheywept]

she was dead silent on the drive home, but that was okay. sometimes, after band practice, she was just out of words. it was a short drive to her house. the only part where it actually felt weird was after i pulled up her parent’s driveway. 

after that, the silence stretched so far it smeared and left a weird residue. she kept looking at the car door like she wanted to leave, so i looked at the door too, then she looked at me, and i looked at her, and my first thought was that she was going to tell me that the door was stuck. i was used to that car always doing some damn thing. it was the car me and all my siblings had learned to drive in, and it was really beat to hell. there were dents all over the body, which we’d unsuccessfully tried fixing up with spackle. it had looked nice for maybe a week, but then the sun wrecked it - the spackle cracked up like the mud on the bottom of a dry riverbed and turned a sort of off yellow-white that made the car looked like it had been molded out of chicken shit. it also had a bullet hole it through the cabin that whistled like a toothless old man whenever the car went above 40, so loud it could drown out the radio, and a cabin that smelled so strongly of bugspray that even the arizona summer we drove everywhere we could with the windows down.

(if you have kids one day, you will maybe, possibly, begin to understand how much i loved that car.)

anyway, i was thinking about what else could possibly be wrong with the chickenshitmobile, and she just kept looking at me, and then i wondered if there was something on my face, and she just kept looking at me, and then the penny dropped and i realized she was trying to work up the nerve to break up with me. 

now, i’d seen her work up the nerve to do things like this before – it could take quite a while. and knowing it was about to happen made the waiting immediately unbearable. 

so i said hey. 

and she looked at me, very startled, and said hey back real small. like she’d been caught. and in a way, i suppose she had. 

and i said it’s okay. you can just say it. i’ll be okay.

i’m always okay. 

and she said: i’m really sorry. 

i loved her, you know? it was highschool, but teenagers are capable of love. the way people love changes over time just as much as the way they stand, or the way they talk, but things don’t stop existing just because they're different. opposite really – a thing only stops changing when it's fully gone.

and i said, nothing to be sorry for, and i meant it. she looked a little relived, and i was happy to give her that peace. then she left. i watched her make it through the front door, because that was just habit at that point, and then i sat there a while afterwards, checking how i felt. and the answer was not good, but good enough to make it home. good enough to limp on. 

so i put my car in reverse, took my last look goodbye, and immediately backed into her neighbor’s car. 

crunch. 

air bags didn't go off, which was good. i left a decent dent in the bumper of the other car. genuinely couldn’t tell if i did anything to my car – anything wrong with it just kind of blended together into the general ecosystem of hand mottled, sun cracked, chickenshit spackle. 

i checked my glove box, and my car insurance info was, of course, out of date. my phone was dead too. as a teenager, my phone was less my lifeline to my friends, and more my tether to my parents, so i wasn’t particularly conscious of keeping it charged. both my fault.

i sat there a few minutes, trying to think of the best way to handle things, and there was only one answer i could think of, and i hated that answer, so i spent a few more minutes trying and failing to think of a better one, and then a few more coming to peace with what had to be done. 

then i went back to knock on my now ex’s front door. 

her dad opened, which i was very relieved over, even if he seemed less than thrilled. he looked me over, and in a firm, but slightly apologetic way said: she does not want to see you right now. 

(i think he assumed i was going to try and talk her out of the break up?)

and i said not here for her. i just backed into your neighbor’s car, and i need to call my dad, but my phone’s dead. could i borrow yours?

and he looked at me, then back at his neighbors car, which sure enough was dented, then he looked at the chickenshitmobile, and if there was something wrong with it, it just kind of blended into the general Wrongness of the car, then back to me, and i could see him imagining the last ten minutes from my pov: getting broken up with, backing into a car, having to walk up to your exes door and borrow a phone, calling my dad to tell him that i just reversed into someone.  

and his expression shifted from stern and apologetic to truly sad, which felt more kind that i deserved. things only got here because i kept fucking up - forgot to look behind me, forgot to replace the insurance forms, forgot to charge my phone. it was my mess, but his sympathy meant the world to me. i probably would’ve cried if he said sorry, or patted me on the back or called me sport, but instead he said

stay out here – i’ll bring you a phone.

and then he left.  

i found a nice spot on the lawn in the shade under a sycamore, then settled into his grass.i was trying not to freak out, and was doing an okay job. he came out a minute or so later, not just with a phone, but a juicebox and a jar of green olives, which really threw a wrench in the whole try not to cry thing. soon as i saw those, a few tears squoze out. i was still hoping i could pass them off as Manly Tears but then he told me that he’d gotten the olives a few weeks before and had been meaning to hand them off to me, and that this was his last chance for that. then i made a sound like a horse drowning in a bog, and he patted my back pretty rough, four solid thumps, like he wasn't sure if i was crying or choking on an olive, and was trying to cover both bases at once.

then he went back inside, and i made a few more bog horse noises while finishing off the rest of the entire jar of green olives, and then i called my dad.

he was about ten minutes away that day, and luckily was home. he drove over, and we went to the neighbor’s house, and from there things actually went quite nice. the neighbor was a retired man who actually said he could fix the dent himself, no need for insurance. he said he appreciated that i didn't just drive off, and i said i was really sorry about his car, and he said he was really sorry about my car, and then he gestured to the chickenshitmobile and i laughed because it really was a disaster on wheels.

then we left.

i thought we were going to head straight home, but instead we went to a gas station, and we both got several slim jims that we folded into thick enough coils that we could put them on a hotdog bun because the growing up mormon equivalent of having a sad brewski with your dad is just choosing to make bad decisions sober. then he took me to the canals and we watched the sun turn all orange and pink, and he looked over at me and said:

brains are good at remembering bad days. so you gotta make sure that a bad day has a good part in in, so you can remember that too. remember that when you have a kid. try to do a good job on days like that - they're going to be a big part of how they remember you.

and then he gave me a big hug and said he was never going to eat another slim jim again.

---

the year after that i went to college, which kicked my butt in new and exciting ways. and on a lot of those bad days, after a test that went sour, or a faux paus that was particularly embarrassing, or some other hardship of my new adult life, i’d stop by the gas station and pick up leathery, half jerkied hotdog before heading to the canals to watch the sun set. i’d take a bite and imagine my dad next to me, grimacing through the slim-jim wad, asking what good thing i was going use that time to remember. 

and in my head, i’d say you, dad. 

i’m going to remember you.

[fallingforyouforeverr]

𝐓𝐨𝐨 𝐡𝐨𝐭 | 𝐋𝐚𝐧𝐝𝐨 𝐍𝐨𝐫𝐫𝐢𝐬

summary: lando begins to panic when you don't want to cuddle with him

author's note: it's really hot rn where I live so i just wanted to write a cute little blurb inspired by my own suffering. vote here for who i write my next fic about!

• f1 masterlist • youtubers masterlist •

Lando was confused. He didn't think he had done anything wrong, and you didn't seem to be upset with him until now, so he couldn't possibly understand why you were refusing to cuddle with him.

It started off as most of your evenings did. After dinner, he washed the dishes while you dried and put them away, then you both moved into the living room to watch some tv before bed. Only, when Lando tried to pull you closer, you pushed his arm off you, moving away and leaving your boyfriend staring at you like a kicked puppy.

You didn't seem to think anything of it, settling back down on the other side of the sofa and pressing play on your favourite show. However, Lando was still frozen, mind reeling from your rejection. He wondered if you were ignoring him because you were mad or if it was just a mistake and you genuinely couldn't feel his eyes on you.

At last, the uncertainty became to much to bear and he decided to speak up. "Um...baby?" He asked tentatively, watching your face closely to see your reaction.

"Yeah?" You answered, glancing away from the screen.

Huh. That's weird. You didn't seem mad at all, and you obviously weren't ignoring him, so what was this about? Maybe you weren't feeling well suddenly?

"You feeling okay, sweetheart?"

Turning your body to face him, your equally as confused expression only eased his worries slightly. "Yeah, I'm alright. Why?"

Deciding it was probably best to be direct, Lando spoke again. "You pushed me away!"

You couldn't help but giggle at the adorable pout on his face, suddenly feeling bad for not explaining your behaviour earlier. "Lan, my love, I'm so sorry! I promise I'm not mad at you or anything, it's just because of the weather."

"The weather?" His expression changed, a slight frown settling into his brow as he waited for you to continue speaking.

"It's too hot," you explained. "It's my first summer in Monaco, I wasn't expecting it to be this warm. I didn't want to cuddle because I knew I would overheat."

Lando mentally slapped himself for not thinking of that as a possibility. He had lived here for a few years so he was used to the unrelenting sunshine by now, but you had only moved in with him recently so of course you weren't. He couldn't help but laugh at how much he was stressing over something so small.

"You idiot, making me panic like that!" The brunette scolded you playfully. You stared up at him innocently, batting your eyelashes with a smile.

Lando suddenly grabbed hold of your waist, and you shrieked loudly. You wriggled helplessly in his grasp, as he tickled you sides, leaning down to whisper in your ear.

"I'll stop if you say sorry."

"Never," you gasped, swatting at his hands. He merely shrugged, tickling you harder.

"You sure?"

"Okay, okay, I-I'm sorry!" You managed between breathless pants.

Lando grinned cheekily at you, allowing you a moment to catch your breath before he leaned in to kiss you softly. You threw your arms around his neck tilting your head slightly to deepen the kiss. When you finally had to pull away for air, he rested his forehead against yours.

"I thought you were too hot," he teased, causing you to groan again and smack his shoulder. Lando pressed another quick kiss to your lips before continuing, "and for the record, I am definitely buying you like 20 fans tomorrow."