#no one ask how i wrote this so fast

[stevie-petey]

episode seven: the massacre at hawkins lab

Steve coughs, swatting at the particles in the air. “Just inhaled a bunch of that crap.” “I’ve been trying not to think about how much of the Upside Down we’ve ingested since being here.” “It’s stuck in my throat, Y/N.” “Again, I’m trying not to think about that.

Summary: bats are really fucking annoying to fight, you always somehow end up critically injured, nancy carries the group on her back as always, eddie gives steve relationship advice (embarassing, tbh), interdimensional bike riding is lowkey fun, and you take a trip down memory lane.

Rating: general, some swearing, violence

Warnings: fem!reader, use of y/n, cursing, blood and gore, critical injuries, mentions of fainting, mentions of death and violence, description of corpses

Words: 11.9k

Before you swing in: ive never been more excited to write a chapter tbh. this episode touches on so many things ive been building up for seasons now !!!! insane !!! im so so so excited to see how yall react. this chapter has my favorite sequence of scenes yet ;) enjoy !

–

His name rips from your mouth. “Steve!” 

The bats sink their fangs into his stomach. His legs kick out, he gasps for breath, choking on his pain. Your legs threaten to give out as you stumble towards Steve. Quickly your fingers find the knives you always carry with you just as a bat lunges towards you.

Barely having time to dodge its quick attack, you swat at the creature, but your knives slide off its skin easily. Your heart drops; their flesh is too thick to cut through. The bat screeches at you, its teeth bared, and you throw your body weight against it onto the ground. Angling your knife, you pierce the inside of its mouth, killing it. 

“Shit!” Another bat crawls towards you. Your elbow scrapes the ground as you roll out of its path, slicing into the creature’s maw. 

Steve screams again, this time even louder as even more bats surround him. Frantic, you jump to your feet. Without thinking, you grab the tail of one of the bats, its face buried in Steve’s stomach. When you start to pull, Steve shakes his head violently and throws his arm out at you. “Go!”

You don’t bother answering; you’re not leaving him. 

The bat’s tail cuts your palms as you pry it off of Steve’s flesh, but as soon as it’s removed, it latches onto your upper thigh. “Fuck!”

Razor sharp pain shoots through your entire body. The bat loosens its jaw to only tighten it more; you can feel its teeth hit your bone. Screaming, the white-hot pain blinds you. Your knees give out and you fall before you can catch yourself.

“Y/N!” Steve chokes out, desperate. He clenches his jaw, tries to get up. More bats screech overhead, circling you, and Steve knows you only have seconds before you’re dead. But the vines around his neck constrict even more. His airway closes, another bat takes the other one’s place on his stomach. 

“Motherfucker!” You stab at the bat, but then a second one slams against your body and your shoulder explodes with pain. “Fuck-no,” you try to twist around, to use the last of your strength to remove it from your own skin, but it’s no use. The bats tear at your skin, ripping through muscle and ligaments. 

Lightning flashes, its light red mars the endless dark blue sky. Above you, a bat screeches, signaling its descent, before it dives towards you at full speed. Your eyes close, you hope death will be quick. 

“Get fucked!” Someone screams, a sickening thud following. Opening your eyes, you see the creature’s body get thrown into the air. Eddie stands above you, smiling wickedly, but as soon as he sees the two other bats gnawing on you, he brings his oar over his head and swings. 

You look away, scared he’ll miss, and see Nancy and Robin a few feet away. Nancy holds the other oar, working with Robin to kill the swarm of bats that encase Steve’s body. Seeing them makes you want to cry in sweet relief. 

The sound of the bats’ pained cries echo in your ears. It takes several attempts before Eddie manages to get them off of you. The bat’s teeth cut deeply with every attack, causing you to cry out in pain. It’s fucking agonizing. Warm blood follows a sickening tearing sensation in your leg.

When Eddie has killed both bats, he helps you stand up. “Jesus, you alright?”

“Talk later,” you grunt, already rushing to go help Nancy and Robin. “Fight now.”

Eddie doesn’t stop you. He swings his oar again and Robin begs you to help. She has a bat pinned down while Nancy pounds her oar into its face, but it won’t fucking die. Its tail has wrapped itself around Steve’s neck and he’s paler than you’ve ever seen him. 

But before you can gut the piece of shit creature, another bat pounces on Nancy. Its claws tear her skin and she yelps. You scream her name and catch her before she falls. “I got you.”

Nancy’s hands clutch your body as you stab the bat. “Get it off me!”

“I’m trying!” The bat won’t let go, screeching with every pull. Biting down, you ignore the searing pain as your palms get cut up even more. Robin tries to help, but you scream at her. “No! Help Steve!”

She nods quickly and it’s a mess of fighting and screeches and blood. Steve bites down on the bat’s tail, its jaw opens as it squeals, giving him just enough time to escape. As he rolls to the side, Robin throws the bat’s body onto the ground. 

Seeing Steve safe reinvigorates you, and with one final scream, you use everything within you to pull the bat off of Nancy’s back. It releases her skin with a squelching pop. You force your knife down its throat and pin the creature to the ground. It writhes beneath you. “Now, Nancy!”

She doesn’t hesitate. “Go to hell!” Her oar slams down, killing it.

Behind you Eddie kills the remaining few bats that circle overhead. Steve stands next to you, slamming the final bat into the ground. The body lands with a loud smack against the concrete and Steve rips the carcass in half. 

Blood drips from his mouth and he messily spits it away. He’s panting, his stomach is on fire, he’s stuck in some alternate dimension with no way out, but all he can focus on is you. 

Flesh hangs from your shoulder, leaving behind a gaping wound of exposed muscle. Your thigh is torn clean through. There’s blood everywhere. The white of your tanktop is now soaked in red. But you’re here, you’re alive. He hasn’t lost you. Not yet, at least.

“Y/N–” Steve practically falls against you, and you’re no better yourself. You’re crying, snot runs down your face as you grab desperately at him. His hands are all over you as he tries to stop the bleeding, but there’s so much blood. 

“I-I’m here.” Your hands are all over Steve’s body, too. They cup his waist, there are so many bite marks on him, but at least his flesh is warm under your skin. He’s still here, he’s still yours, and now all you want to do is calm him down. Steve is panicking, holding you as if he’s afraid you’ll die in his arms any second, and the fear on his face makes your chest ache. 

“Are you guys okay?” Nancy asks, tentatively touching your shoulder. A wince slips from her lips when she sees the flesh that is no longer there. “Jesus, Y/N.”

Steve wraps his hands around your thigh, it’s bleeding the most and you can barely put any weight on it. “I’m fine, but they took a fucking pound of flesh from her.”

“You’re no better,” you’ve placed your own hands over his stomach, his blood warm against your fingers. “I think you lost your appendix.”

Steve laughs, but almost immediately his laugh turns into a groan. “God, don’t make me laugh. It hurts.”

You apologize, kissing his shoulder. Light catches your attention and you see Robin crouched down next to one of the bat carcasses. She looks up at everyone. “Uh, do you guys think these bats have, like, rabies?”

“Robin, if we have rabies, please promise me you’ll shoot me.” You tell her, dead serious. Rabies has always terrified you. When you were younger, a rabid fox made its way onto your grandparents' farm. It had killed all the chickens, attacked the herding dog they had, and you remember how distraught your father had been when he had to kill both the fox and the hound. 

“I’m sure you and Steve don’t have rabies.” Nancy says, sensing your growing fear. But before she can say anything else a small group of bats descend from the sky.

Steve pushes you behind him. They land near the gate you fell through, screeching at the five of you. They’re a small enough group, Steve voices what you’re all thinking: you can handle them. Flicking your knives out, you prepare for what’s about to come. 

Until a swarm grows larger in the distance. There’s easily hundreds of them, they cast a shadow below where they fly. There’s too many to fight. 

“You were saying?” Robin breathes out, eyes never leaving the sky.

Steve is speechless, he doesn’t know what to do. His hand tightens around you, protective, but thankfully Nancy has a plan. She tells everyone to run towards the woods and none of you hesitate to follow. Steve swings your legs over his arms, picking you up with ease despite the bite wounds that litter his skin. Like hell he’s letting you run right now; you’re too torn up, you can hardly even walk. 

As Steve runs with you in his arms, he’s careful to avoid the vines that creep over the ground. It’s a dizzying rush. All you can do is hold tightly onto him, trusting that Nancy knows where she’s taking you. 

Deep into the woods, Nancy calls over her shoulder, “Over here!”

Lifting your head from Steve’s chest, you realize, as you always do, that Nancy Wheeler is a goddamn genius. She’s taken you all to Skull Rock.

The giant boulders form a small alcove, just big enough to hide under as the bats fly overhead. She instructs everyone to crawl under and Steve sets you down gently, positioning you so that you’re sitting with your back against the rock. As soon as you’re secure, Steve’s hand goes back to your thigh.

The sound of the bats is almost deafening. No one dares to speak. They fly over at such a gruesome speed, their screeches echoing off the trees. You lose count of how many there are. All you can do is wait for the last of them to leave.

More lightning strikes above. It shakes the ground, the sound reverberates in your skull. You can’t believe you’re here. You’re in the Upside Down. The place you’ve only ever spoken about, the entity that haunted your nightmares and took the ones you loved from you.

It’s so much colder than you imagined it to be. Everything is darker, more twisted. The dimension is exactly as Will once described to you: this is Hawkins, it’s your home, but different. Colder, scarier. These woods are the woods you walked through, the woods where you fell in love, and yet the trees loom over you in a threatening way. Their branches form spikes, the dirt recoils against your feet. 

Nothing here feels warm. The darkness is never ending. 

This is where Will was, all by himself, for a week. 

He had only been twelve. 

When the nightmare swarm of bats is finally over, Robin carefully pokes her head out from the alcove. “Okay, that was close.”

Eddie agrees, kicking at a rock. Steve offers you his hand to stand, but the moment your skin touches his, you feel sick. All the adrenaline from earlier leaves you. All the blood you’ve lost catches up, leaving your body weak. Stumbling, your vision tunnels and your eyes roll back. 

“Woah, hey.” Steve breaks your fall, snapping his fingers in your face to bring your attention back to him. He’s weak as well, he has to lean heavily against the rock to steady himself. “Y/N-shit!”

“Steve?” Nancy turns around, finding you and him moments away from collapsing. She curses, rushing over. When she sees all the blood that still pours from your thigh, she gags. “Oh, fuck.”

“Keep… keep talking. Please.” Your breathing is labored, you can hardly form any words. “Keep talking to me. If-if I faint… embarrassing.”

“I think she’s losing it.” Eddie whispers rather loudly to Robin. 

Nancy grazes Steve’s chest, silently asking him to move your body aside. She wants to get a closer look at his wounds as well, she can’t help you if he’s bleeding out himself, but he refuses. “No, no we need to help Y/N.”

“Steve, you’re also losing blood–”

“I don’t care.” Steve pulls you even closer to his chest, he needs to feel your rib cage rising and falling. He needs to feel you breathe. “Help her, Nancy.”

His outburst startles Nancy. She takes a step back, alarmed, but clenches her jaw. There’s no getting through to Steve; she knows she’s lost the fight. “At least sit her down.”

Steve collapses, sliding back against the rock with you tucked to his chest. With shaking hands, he forces you to sit next to him. You wince with every movement, it’s getting harder and harder to stay awake.

“Stay with me, angel.” Steve murmurs to you, motioning to Nancy to look down at your thigh. The wound is bleeding the most, the teeth sunk in the deepest. 

“Don’t wanna faint,” your head sags to the side, exhausted. “So embarrassing.”

Nancy places her hands unsurely to your thigh. The blood squelches, soaking through your jeans. She exhales shakily. “You’re not-you’re not going to faint, okay? Just keep talking, Y/N.”

“Hate bats.” It’s the first thing that comes to mind, but it seems to settle Nancy’s unease and Steve’s worry. “Little fuckers hurt.”

Nancy tears the end of her shirt, her nimble fingers gently lift your injured leg. She ties the piece of fabric tight around your thigh, quelling the bleeding. Steve helps with the knot, though really he just needs something to do. 

“If you want some good news, I’m pretty sure wooziness is not a symptom of rabies.” Robin crouches next to you, smiling despite how terrified she is. “So that’s something, right?”

You yelp when Nancy tightens the tourniquet. Biting your tongue, you force a smile to Robin. “Hooray.”

“There,” Nancy wipes her hands of your blood. The tourniquet isn’t much, but already the bleeding has subsided. “But I think you’re going to need stitches.”

“I’m tired of hospitals,” you whine, but you’re already feeling a bit better. You’re weak, sure, but at least your body isn’t slowly draining itself out. “Thanks, though.”

Nancy nods, smiling softly, before her eyes land on Steve’s stomach. “Can I finally patch you up?”

Steve doesn’t even look at her, instead cups your face. Even though you’re covered in blood and sweat and tears, even though your cheek is scabbed and your lip is split, he doesn’t think he’s ever found you more beautiful. “You alright?”

“Been better,” you admit, squeezing his arm. “But let’s worry about you now.” Turning to Nancy, you extend your arm. “Got any more torn pieces of clothing?”

She bites her lip. The only thing covering your body is your tank top. She’s seen the cuts all over your palms. She doesn’t think you’ll be able to wrap the cloth around Steve, if she’s being honest. But she also knows Steve and how fiercely he loves you. He won’t let anyone near him but you. 

Finally, she sighs. Tearing off more of her shirt, she hands it to you. “Yeah, here.”

You thank Nancy again, and she gives you a curt nod before backing away, giving you and Steve some space. Once she’s gone, you tend to Steve’s injuries. When he moves his hand away and reveals raised, angry flesh, you inhale sharply. “Steve…”

“Just a flesh wound.” He jokes, but you can hear the pain in his voice. 

Though you’re still dizzy and weak, you manage to lift Steve’s body enough to wrap the makeshift bandage around him. Luckily he isn’t bleeding as badly as you are, but the sight of him injured still leaves you nauseous. 

Tying the fabric around his torso, you’re careful not to hurt him any more. The moment is familiar, reminiscent of the years before. Back in the junkyard when a Demodog nearly tore open your rib cage, Steve had been the one to take care of you. He had so carefully wrapped your cardigan around your chest, been so delicate with you, and now it’s your turn to do the same for him. 

“We always end up here, don’t we?” You say softly, it still takes a lot of energy for you to speak. You finish tying a knot to secure the bandage and Steve looks at you oddly. He doesn’t understand, and you shrug. “You and me, patching each other’s wounds up.”

Steve’s eyes soften. It doesn’t matter where he could be, in what situation he could be stuck in, you always somehow remind him of how loved he is. “Kinda wish the bats had eaten my ribs instead. We could’ve had matching scars.”

You laugh, eyes shining with tears. Fresh pain explodes all over your body, but you laugh anyways. You don’t know why you’re laughing or why tears run down your face. The exhaustion and pain from today must finally be catching up to you. “How romantic.”

Steve laughs as well, the pain of it bearable when he hears your laughter mixing with his. “I love you, angel.”

“I love you, too, honey.” It’s so cold in the Upside Down, but the warmth of Steve’s love feels like sunshine kissing your skin. 

Robin clears her throat. “Uh, not to ruin this cute moment, but I just wanted to say that if either of you start feeling aggressive, please let me know. Because, ya know. The threat of rabies still.”

“I kinda wanna punch you.” Steve looks at her pointedly, annoyed. 

You poke his cheek and smile apologetically at Robin. “He didn’t mean that.”

“Sense of humor is still intact, that’s a good sign!” She cheers, then, as an afterthought, she takes off her flannel and hands it to you. “Also, figured you’d want this. Not that you aren’t totally hot right now in only a tiny tank top and blood all over you, it’s just freakishly cold down here and you technically have an exposed wound on your shoulder and who knows what sorts of awful flesh eating diseases there are here.” 

You accept the flannel gratefully and thank her. Then, together, you and Steve stand up. The process is difficult, you only have one functional top and bottom, and you walk in a slow manner together as you lean against the other. 

Up ahead, Eddie is standing on one of the boulders, staring out into the vast dimension. “So, uh. This place is like Hawkins, but with monsters and nasty shit?”

“Basically.” You respond, grunting as you support Steve’s upper body. 

Eddie nods, defeated, and before he can step down, Nancy tells him to be careful of the vines. “It’s all a hive mind.”

When Eddie doesn’t understand, Steve tries to explain it to him. “All the creepy crawlies here, dude. They’re like, one or something.”

“They’re all interconnected. They can feel each other’s pain, feelings, whatever.” You say, remembering how Jonathan had described Will’s agonizing screams when the vines had been burned in the tunnels.

“Step on a vine, you’re stepping on a bat, you’re stepping on Vecna.” Steve finishes grimly. 

Eddie smiles sarcastically, obviously displeased with this information, but he’s careful not to step on any vines on his way down. 

“But everything from our world is still here, right? Except people?” Robin asks.

You nod. “According to Will, yeah.”

This pleases Robin, and she starts explaining her plan. If everything's the same in the Upside Down, then you should be able to use the guns stored away at Hawkins’ police station. With the ammunition stored there, it’d be more than enough to kill the bats that guard the gate back to Hawkins. 

“I highly doubt the Hawkins PD has grenades, Robin.” Steve says skeptically. “But guns? Sure.”

You shake your head. While Robin’s idea is good, there’s still the issue of going all the way downtown from Skull Rock. The five of you barely made it half a mile without getting killed. There’s no way you’d survive three. “But the police station is downtown. That’s too far from here.”

Robin deflates, but Nancy furrows her brows. After thinking for a moment, her eyes light up. “We don’t have to go all the way downtown. I have guns. In my bedroom.”

God you love her.

Eddie scoffs in disbelief. “You, Nancy Wheeler, have guns… plural? In your bedroom?”

“Full of surprises, isn’t she?” Robin says with pride.

“And this is why we always listen to her.” You sing along, high fiving Robin. 

Nancy doesn’t acknowledge you or Robin, but her cheeks flush with slight embarrassment. “A Russian Makarov and a revolver.”

“Yeah, you almost shot me with that one.” Steve reminds her, though his tone is gentle, almost teasing.

You laugh, remembering how terrified he had been when Nancy pointed the gun at him. You all had been so much younger, more naive. All he wanted to do was apologize to Jonathan for their fight earlier. Steve had just wanted to make things right, and that’s why you stepped in front of him that night. “Luckily for you, I was there to save your life.” 

Steve looks down at you fondly. He pulls you close, his eyes are full of so much love. He remembers everything. The night that started it all. “And then I saved yours.”

To think that a sprained ankle and a bat full of nails would lead you to here: Steve’s warm chest against you, so full of love.

Lost in your warm memories, neither you nor Steve see Eddie throwing his vest at Steve’s face until it’s too late. The material smacks against him, cruelly bringing the two of you back to reality. 

“What the fuck, Eddie?” You sneer at him, deeply annoyed. 

He waves at you flirtatiously, a devilish glint in his eyes. “I’m protecting your boyfriend’s modesty for you.”

Before you can retaliate, the ground beneath you starts to shake. The force of it is so sudden, so strong, that it sends you and everyone else falling. Steve catches himself on a rock, holding you tightly to his chest, and you manage to catch Nancy before she falls as well. Eddie grabs onto Robin, stuck on the ground together.

The tremors are violent. There’s a cracking sound, branches fall behind you as the earthquake destroys whatever it can. Steve holds you through it, he whispers reassurances to try and calm you. When it’s over everything is quiet for a moment, before a loud, heart stopping shriek cuts into the night.

It doesn’t sound like any creature you’ve faced before. Far too loud to be a Demodog’s, far too large to be a bat’s. The thought of what it could be almost paralyzes you; it could’ve been the Mind Flayer. 

“Guns seem like a pretty good idea to me.” Eddie finally says, panting. 

Robin quickly agrees, and you swallow down the bile that rises in your throat. “Yeah, okay. I can be okay with guns.”

“So what are we waiting for?” Steve puts Eddie’s vest on, twirling a flashlight in his hand. He nods to himself, tries to convince himself that he’s as confident as he sounds. He extends his other arm towards you, helping you steady your balance. “Let’s go.”

And you follow. 

– 

It’s a long walk from Skull Rock to Nancy’s house; it’s an even longer walk when you’re in the Upside Down, hiding from demonic bats. With every branch that snaps beneath someone’s foot, you all jump. The croak of whatever creature nearby sets everyone on edge. 

“Couldn’t we have tried a road or something just slightly less creepy?” Robin complains, jumping over a vine. 

Leaning against Steve, you groan. “Anything would be less creepy than this.”

“I think we’re getting close,” Nancy tries to sound convincing, but even she’s uneasy. “We’re almost out of here. Don’t worry.”

Robin nods at the reassurance, but you can’t help but wonder what could possibly come next after you find Nancy’s guns. It’d be two guns, two critically injured members of the group, two oars, and one switchblade against an army of bats.

Not the best odds. 

Nancy and Robin wander further ahead, leaving you behind with Steve and Eddie. None of you talk, more so because you’re putting all your energy into not falling on your face and Steve is busy helping you stay upright.

Walking is difficult and painful and you’re so frustrated by it all, especially after you trip over your fourth tree root. If it weren’t for Steve’s quick reflexes, you’d be long dead by now.

Eddie must recognize this, too.

“Here, let me just–” He comes next to you and throws your arm over his shoulders before either you or Steve can protest. Immediately the pressure on your injured leg lessens. You sigh in content, and Eddie smirks. “There ya go, princess.”

“Don’t call her that.” Steve snaps, but even he has to admit that Eddie’s help is needed. With him carrying half your weight, Steve is able to breathe a little easier. You’re better balanced this way. He’s no longer straining his injuries to support you. 

Eddie winces. “I’m sorry, just… trying to lighten the mood, I guess.”

Steve doesn’t say anything, but the silence stretches on and you feel bad for Eddie. He really is trying. Despite the fact that he’s Hawkins’ most wanted, he still tries to make everyone else laugh. He has to know that he’s never getting out of this alive, and you admire the strength it must take to continue laughing anyways. 

So you try to for him as well. “Thank you, by the way. You saved our lives back there.”

Eddie looks at you funny, he hadn’t expected you to acknowledge it. “Shit, Steve saved his own ass, man.”

“That’s true,” you laugh. By the time the fight finished, Steve had somehow managed to fight his way out by himself. “It was impressive.”

“No it wasn’t.” 

Eddie scoffs at Steve’s dismissal. “Please, that was a real Ozzy move you pulled back there.”

“Ozzy?” Steve looks at you, silently asking for some type of explanation, but you shrug. 

“All I know is that he’s in Black Sabbath.” Jonathan occasionally listened to the band whenever he was particularly angry, but not enough for you to understand Eddie’s obscure reference. 

Eddie makes a surprised, but pleased, sound. “Honestly surprised you even know Black Sabbath, but c’mon. Ozzy Osbourne, he bit a bat’s head off onstage. You seriously haven’t heard about that?”

You and Steve stare at him blankly, and he sighs. “Well, it was very metal. That’s what I’m trying to say.”

Steve scoffs again, but deep down you know he’s preening. It’s not everyday someone commends his strength or recognizes how well he can hold his own. Steve has come a long way since his first fight with Jonathan back at the alley. 

“I think I finally get why my brother likes you so much,” you tell Eddie, looking up at him curiously. “You know a lot of weird facts. He goes crazy for them.”

That, and you’re finding that Eddie isn’t so bad when he isn’t surrounded by his goonies. He’s actually… decent when he isn’t putting on a show for everyone. It’s almost reminiscent of how Steve had once been, back when he was the King. 

But if you ever pointed out that similarity to the boys, you know they’d be deeply offended. 

The corners of Eddie’s mouth tilt up. “Yeah, well. The kid adores you and practically worships Steve.”

“He does?” Steve almost sounds bashful at the idea of Dustin worshiping him. It makes your heart constrict. You both miss your brother terribly. 

Eddie nods. “Oh yeah, it’s kinda annoying, to be honest. Especially when all he talks about is Y/N. If he isn’t talking about you, he’s talking about her.”

“I doubt that’s true,” you shake your head. “He doesn’t need me anymore, he’s practically counting down the days until I leave.”

“Nah, man. Dustin tells me all the time how much he’ll miss you when you leave.” Eddie tells you, voice firm. “Kid always talks about how much you look out for him, that he doesn’t know what he’ll do when you’re gone. In a way, it’s annoyingly endearing. He frets over you just as much as you fret over him. I can see the Henderson charm in him that made you Hawkins’ sweetheart.” 

Everything that Eddie tells you leaves your throat sticky with tears. You didn’t know, you couldn’t know all Dustin said about you. For the longest time you thought he’d grown to hate you, to resent you the way kids often do with their family. You would’ve never blamed him; sometimes people just grow up, grow apart, but here Eddie is, telling you that your brother will miss you when you’re gone. 

Unable to say anything in fear that you’ll cry, the only response you give Eddie is a curt, short nod.

Steve rubs your side tenderly, understanding all you’re unable to say. Eddie feels the touch against his own side and he clears his throat. He knows you want him to change the subject. “Admittedly, I got a little jealous. Hearing the little shrimp talk about you as if you hung the goddamn stars yourself.” 

The irony of it all crashes upon you. While you had been jealous of Eddie, he had been jealous of you. The two of you spent months quarreling over Dustin, you’d been uncharacteristically mean to Eddie, and yet the entire time you envied the other. 

Abandonment can make people cruel. 

“I was jealous of you, too.” You finally reveal to Eddie, meeting his eyes for the first time tonight. 

Eddie stares back at you, his expression softens with understanding. He seems to have pieced together what you have: your anger had never been cruel, only defensive. Protective of your brother the way only a sister would in fear of losing him. 

“Guess that makes us both idiots, huh?” Eddie teases gently, accepting the offering of truce that you present to him. 

You laugh, looking away. The moment of truce is nice, pleasant almost, until the beat of silence becomes too unbearable for you. You’ve revealed enough of yourself tonight. Awkwardly clearing your throat, you lift your arm from Eddie’s shoulder and pull away. “Robin is probably missing me right now. She hates the dark, these woods are her worst nightmare.”

Steve catches your arm before you leave. You’re still unsteady on your feet, but he understands what you’re trying to do. He’s come to learn that you shut away when you’re vulnerable. While you wear your heart on your sleeve, Steve knows that it can be exhausting for you. 

“Need me to call her over?” He asks you quietly.

“No, I can manage.” You kiss Steve’s cheek, thanking him without having to say it. Eddie smiles at you as you leave, tight lipped, but kind nonetheless. 

The two teens watch you slowly make your way over to Robin, who happily welcomes your presence. She wraps her arms around you and holds you tightly, giggling slightly, before holding you close and helping you walk. 

“I’ll bring her back in one piece!” Robin calls to Steve, giggling under her breath. Steve waves his hand sarcastically, but doesn’t argue. Turning to you, Robin’s face shines in the blue moonlight. “You here to save me from this totally creepy, absolutely horrid woods?”

“Duh,” your laughter reflects hers. “I’m your knight in shining armor, babe.”

Robin squeezes your hand, resting her head against yours as you walk together. It’s been a long time since you’ve held each other like this. The realization makes you guilty. “How’ve you been holding up?”

Robin shrugs, the motion jostles your head, but you don’t mind. “We’re in the Upside Down, some guy named Vecna wants you and Max dead, and you refuse to admit that you’re scared.”

You bite your lip. Robin is just as worried for you as Steve is, she’s just hidden it better, and you wish that you could spare her the worry. She’s put up such a strong front for you. Between Steve, Dustin, Lucas, and Max, Robin knew you didn’t want yet another person coddling you.

So she stepped back, gave you the space you wanted, but you’re still her best friend. Robin won’t let you forget that.

“I’m sorry,” you whisper to her, holding onto her as tightly as she holds onto you. 

Robin shrugs again. “Nothing to forgive, pretty girl.”

And it’s as simple as that.

Though Steve can’t hear your conversation, he watches you and Robin fondly. The two of you sway together, laughing occasionally. Eddie notices the way Steve looks at you and laughs to himself. 

“You know, I was jealous of you, too.”

Steve raises his eyebrow. “What?”

“I was jealous of you and Henderson, the little one, I mean. Guess I couldn’t accept the fact that Steve Harrington was actually a good dude. I mean, rich parents, popular, chicks love him, not a douche? No way dude. That like, flies in the face of all laws in the universe and my own personal Munson doctrine.”

Then Eddie motions towards you. “And when you started dating Y/N? C’mon, man. Everyone knows Y/N Henderson is like, God’s gift to selflessness. I watched her tutor kids in the library like goddamn Gandhi, and suddenly she’s dating you? There isn’t any law in the universe to explain that. Fucking unfair.”

Though he knows he should be offended, Steve finds himself laughing. If he’s being honest, he’s relieved that someone else is questioning whether Steve deserves you. From the moment he met you, you’ve tried convincing him that he’s always deserved you. But Steve knows better, and he can’t believe it’s Eddie Munson who sees this, too. 

“If it makes you feel any better, I also don’t know why Y/N chose me.” Steve confesses, catching Eddie’s attention. “Honestly, I don’t think I ever would’ve been someone she even liked had we not been dragged into the Upside Down together. I was a douchebag. She hated me for years, but I guess saving her life a few times earned me some brownie points.” 

Eddie snorts. “Surprised you’re not claiming it was your ‘stunningly good looks’ that made Y/N fall for you. Oh how humble you’ve become.”

“Y/N changed me.” Steve’s eyes find your body again. They will always draw towards you no matter where you are.

The sincerity in Steve’s voice surprises Eddie. Licking his lips, he sighs. “Well whatever she did, I never would’ve jumped in that lake to save your ass, not under any normal circumstances.” A branch snaps, Steve and Eddie turn to its source, but there’s nothing there. Sighing again, Eddie continues to walk. “Outside of DnD, I’m no hero. I see danger and I just turn heel and run… at least, that’s what I’ve learned about myself this week.”

Steve doesn’t know where Eddie is going with this. “Hey, give yourself a break, man.”

Eddie points to you, Robin, and Nancy walking up ahead. “No, you see. The only reason I came in here was ‘cause those ladies came in straight after you. I was too ashamed to be the one who stayed behind. But Y/N? She dove in the second your head went under. Nearly tore Robin’s arm off trying to get to you.”

Something heavy settles in Steve’s chest. There’s a shift, there’s something that simmers deep into his rib cage. 

Eddie forces Steve to look at him. “I don’t know how you did it, but she loves you. The way she was screaming your name, it was an unambiguous sign of true love that these cynical eyes have ever seen. And if someone like Y/N Henderson loves you… then I figured you must be worth saving.”

Steve’s breath stutters. He looks up at you again, the warmth that cascades his veins whenever he sees you overwhelms him. Steve loves you more than anything. To be told how deeply you love him by someone else is almost too much. 

You and Steve have been fighting so much recently. He’s said awful things to you, you’ve hurt him in ways he hadn’t known he could hurt. All the unspoken words, all the uncertainty and fear, and yet you dove in to save Steve without hesitating. 

And isn’t that all that love is? To love without expectations, without hesitancy. Love is the inability to separate your breath from the person’s lungs; you took all the air out of Steve’s chest the moment you smiled at him. 

You’re the best goddamn thing that has ever happened to Steve. He’s always known this, he’s always known that what the two of you have is special. It’s something more than just young love. 

So what if the future you envision doesn’t align with Steve’s? How could something so small, so miniscule as compared to forever with you, be what Steve allows to drive you away? You deserve more than just his insecurities. You’ve already decided that Steve deserves your love, what more can he want from you?

He already has you; Steve won’t let you walk away from him. Not this time, not when what you have is rare and real and raw. 

Steve almost wants to laugh at how funny it is. He’d been so worried about losing you, that he almost lost you in the process. What’s even worse: it took a five minute conversation with fucking Eddie Munson to even realize it. 

“Y/N, she’s–” Steve begins, but the ground starts to shake again and he’s falling. Eddie curses, sick of these earthquakes, and Steve braces himself as the rumbling continues. 

Robin struggles to hold onto you as you cower together under the earth’s violent shaking. Instinctively your head turns toward Steve to make sure he’s okay. You find him on the ground next to Eddie. Sensing your eyes on him, Steve looks up and nods reassuringly at you. Relieved, you breathe against Robin. 

“Second on my list of least favorite things,” she says, voice shaking. “Earthquakes. Seriously, I’m unsteady enough as it is.”

“At least you have two working legs.” You quip.

Robin shushes you, but her voice raises when she sees Nancy stand and take off. “Nancy!”

Squinting at the darkness, you see the girl’s figure disappearing into the treeline. She’s running alarmingly fast, way too fast for anyone to catch up in time, and your heart lurches. None of you should be splitting up right now. It isn’t safe. “Fuck! Someone stop her!”

Robin quickly throws you onto your feet and you call after Steve and Eddie to follow. If running was difficult with a bleeding out leg, it’s almost impossible with the ground shaking beneath you. But if Nancy’s in trouble, you need to get to her as soon as you can. Leg be damned.

Breaking through the treeline, you find her standing at the edge of a clearing. There are fallen trees everywhere. Red lightning illuminates the Wheeler house before you. By some miracle, you’ve made it.

“Come on.” Nancy breaks the silence, chin held high. She isn’t giving up now, not when you’re all so close. 

She starts to walk, never looking back, and you look at Steve. He grabs your hand. You take a deep breath. You fucking hope Nancy’s plan works. 

This is your only chance of going home.

– 

The Wheeler house is exactly how you remember it, only vines and debris maims its usually pristine appearance. Nancy walks through the door first while Steve shines a flashlight. Particles float everywhere. You try not to think about the fact that you’re inhaling them.

Your foot catches on a stray vine, its tendrils flail angrily at you. Stomping your foot away, you look wearily at Nancy. “Love the decor.”

She rolls her eyes while Robin echoes you. “Might be time to get a maid, Wheeler.”

Ignoring the two of you, Nancy ushers everyone upstairs. While her voice is level, the unease in her body is apparent. She doesn’t like seeing her home this way. Sympathetic, you start to follow Nancy, but for a split second you think you hear Dustin’s voice.

It’s faint, mostly incoherent, and you think you’ve finally gone crazy. That’s it. Vecna has won, you’ve lost the remaining sanity you had left. 

But then Steve suddenly freezes next to you. His bewilderment tells you that he hears Dustin, too. That’s your brother. You’d know his nasally voice anywhere.

Sharing a look with Steve, you simultaneously begin running around the house, trying to follow the sound of Dustin’s voice. You remember Will telling you how he could hear Joyce’s cries for him while he’d been trapped in the Upside Down. It had been the only way Joyce could communicate with him. What if this is the same?

“Start screaming,” you command Steve, limping over to one of the walls. 

“I’m sorry?”

“It’s what Will did, he-he screamed for his mom and Joyce was able to hear him.” You press our mouth close to the wall and shout, “Dustin!” 

He has to hear you. You don’t know what you’ll do if he doesn’t.

Steve wastes no time following along, screaming Dustin’s name at the top of his lungs as well. You know the two of you must look like complete idiots, but you’re desperate.

“Dustin! Dustin Henderson you have five seconds to answer me!” You yell, throat burning.

“Hello? Answer us!” Steve stands in the center of the kitchen, crouched down as if getting ready to bolt. 

This is how Nancy, Robin, and Eddie find you. The three of them stare at you and Steve in concern, though none of them want to get any closer. Robin ducks her head down, whispers, “Maybe they really do have rabies.”

“What are you guys doing?” Nancy demands, fed up. 

“He’s here,” Steve whips his flashlight around, facing them. “Henderson. That little shit, he’s here. He’s like-he’s in the walls or something. Just listen.”

Dustin, predictably, is quiet the moment Steve tells everyone to listen. 

You pound on the wall. “Oh, now you’re quiet?” Everyone looks at you skeptically and you rub your face tiredly. “Look, I know this all sounds crazy, but I can hear Dustin, alright? It’s him.”

“Dustin!” Steve continues to screech, not helping your whole “we aren’t crazy” argument. 

Only Dustin’s voice returns, and thankfully Nancy and everyone else hears it. Together you all search the house, calling your brother’s name out. Yet now matter how loud you scream, he doesn’t respond.

“Alright, either this kid can’t hear us or he’s being a total douchebag.” Steve drops his flashlight.

You blow hair out of your face. “Normally he’s a douchebag, but not nearly to this extent.”

Nancy stands next to you. “But Will found a way to make Joyce listen.”

“When Joyce couldn’t hear him anymore, she used the Christmas lights.” You look at her. “Do you think…?”

She’s already running to the nearest lamp in the kitchen. Flicking the switch, nothing happens. You suggest trying a different light, though you know it won’t make a difference. When the lights remain unlit, you slam your palm against the table in frustration. 

“Guys?” Steve gets your attention. He’s shining his flashlight at the chandelier that hangs over the Wheeler’s dining table. “You seeing this?”

Where Steve points his flashlight, a warm, evanescent glow emits from the chandelier. You gasp at its beauty, you’ve never seen anything like it. Nancy steps towards the light and slowly puts her hand into the loose waves that flow between the lights. It’s encased in small orbs that float gently into the air. 

Nancy’s fingers dance in the light. A path of gold leaves a trail where her fingers have been. The particles in the light surround her hand, pulled in by her presence. Breathless, you reach out as well. The light kisses your hand, and the sensation is soft, almost ticklish. 

“This is insane,” you murmur in awe, face illuminated. You never thought you’d encounter beauty in such a place as the Upside Down. But at least Will found the beauty, too. “This must be how Will did it.”

Robin, Steve, and Eddie copy you and Nancy, putting their hands into the light as well. The five of you twirl your fingers around, causing the light to flicker with every movement. 

Steve’s pinky reaches for yours. “It… tickles?” 

“It kinda feels good.” Mumbles Robin, making figure 8’s with her finger. 

Nancy then lowers her hand and asks if anyone knows morse code. She mostly looks at you when you ask, and you bitterly tell her no. You’d think after everything you and the party have been through, you’d at least learn morse code by now. 

“Wait, does SOS count?” 

Eddie’s stupid question makes you hit his chest. “Of course it counts!”

“Ow!” He shoves you away from him, straightening his leather jacket. “A ‘yes” would’ve sufficed.”

Nancy shushes the two of you and instructs Eddie to start typing out the code. With a huff, he listens, and soon he begins the pattern for SOS. A soft buzz accompanies every flicker of the light. With each letter combination, you can practically feel Dustin getting closer and closer to you. 

It’s almost an indescribable feeling. Somewhere, in another universe, Dustin is standing right where you are. You aren’t sure how you know, maybe you’ll never be able to find the right words, but your brother’s presence settles over your own. 

This must be how Jonathan felt when Joyce was in the Upside Down. He whispered her name so softly when he followed her with the lights. Their love for one another tethered them; now it’s your love for Dustin that tethers him to you. 

“Dustin,” his name comes out whispered, relieved. He’s okay, you can feel that he’s safe. 

“Y/N?” Dustin’s muffled shouting fills everyone with relief. Steve and Eddie high five, Nancy lets out the breath she’d been holding, and Robin cheers while you hastily wipe your eyes. The SOS worked. “Is that-is that you?”

“Yes!” Steve screams into the chandelier, though you know your brother won’t be able to hear.

Anxious to get to Dustin as fast as you can, you shove your hands into the chandelier’s light and send a long, bright beam of light. More muffled screaming can be heard on the other side, only this time laughter accompanies it.

“Holy shit!” Dustin exclaims in awe. The amazement in his voice makes you miss him even more. There’s a murmur of other voices, you can only assume one of them is Lucas’, before Dustin shouts even louder, “We’re gonna find you a better light source. Don’t move.”

You roll your eyes. “Like we can go anywhere else.”

Dustin leaves again, but he’s back within minutes. Through loud screaming, he tells you to find Holly’s Lite Brite and go to Nancy’s room. Him and Lucas will meet the rest of you there. 

The moment Dustin leaves again, Nancy shoves everyone upstairs. “I’ll find the light pad, the rest of you go. Now.” 

And that’s how you find yourself restlessly staring at a child’s light up toy on Nancy Wheeler’s bed with Steve’s chest pressed against your back. He leans close to the toy, mumbling under his breath, “Come on, little Henderson.”

The Lite Brite suddenly comes to life. You throw your hands up triumphantly, giddy. “Yes!”

“You guys seeing this?” Dustin asks, to which Nancy responds by putting her hand into the light. Dustin squeals in excitement. This must be a scientific dream for him. “Okay, we’re not moving it, but we’re gonna unplug it. Stand by.”

The light fades away and Dustin prompts someone to spell something. Everyone turns to you. He’s your brother, you should be the one to make first contact. 

Carefully, you use your pointer finger to spell out D.U.S.T.

Eddie cocks his head. “‘Dust’?”

“He’ll understand.” 

When your mom first brought Dustin home from the hospital, he’d been so small. Immediately you fell in love with the small baby, but his size had confused you. You’d never seen anything so tiny before. 

“He’s small,” you informed your father, making a face at the yawning baby before you. “Like dust.”

You were only three, but you can still remember the way your dad had laughed. For years afterwards you never referred to Dustin by his actual name. He was only ever “Dust” to you. Your father joined, the nickname stuck, though your mother came to prefer “Dusty.”

It was only after your father left that you stopped calling your brother Dust. 

“Dust!” Dustin laughs excitedly. “I’m Dust! Yes!” He raises his voice louder, he can’t believe you remembered the old childhood nickname. “That worked, guys!”

Everyone cheers, Eddie even throws in his own enthusiastic “hi” to the Lite Brite. Your face aches from how hard you smile. Turning the toy over to Nancy, you nod at her. “All yours, Wheeler.”

Her eyebrows knit together as she thinks for a moment. There’s so much to tell Dustin and the others, but the Lite Brite is small and too many words to keep track of. “What should I write?”

“‘Help’ would be a pretty good place to start.” You suggest to her. 

Instead, Nancy ends up spelling “stuck”. Which is pretty fitting, all things considered. Gets the message across well. 

“You can’t get back through Watergate?”

Steve questions whatever the hell watergate is and Robin has to explain the wordplay. While she does so, pride swells deep within your chest. “Dustin’s a little genius that I love so much.”

“It was pretty clever.” Eddie admits. 

Nancy tells Dustin that the gate you all came through is guarded. However, never missing a beat, Dustin tells you that he thinks they have a theory that can help. “We think Watergate isn’t the only gate, that there’s one at every murder site.”

You jerk your head up, eyes widening. It all makes sense now. “Wait, I think he’s–”

“Does anyone have any idea what he’s talking about?” Nancy asks tiredly. Everyone gives her equally tired no’s, but you nod viciously.

“Yes! We already know there’s multiple gates, we just didn’t know how, but Dustin might’ve figured it out. It’s all connected to the murders.”

Nancy looks skeptical. “I don’t know…” Before you can argue with her, she sends a “?” back to Dustin. 

Who, predictably, doesn’t take it well. “Seriously? How many times do I have to be right on the money before you guys just trust me?”

Steve grimaces. “Jesus Christ. This kid’s gotta get his ego checked out.” 

“It’s his tone, right?” Eddie butts in.

You shove them both. “Shut up. Both of you. Dustin can be annoying and frustrating, but he’s right. He’s always been right. Now if you guys would actually listen, he’ll get us out of here.”

Looking pointedly at everyone, you start to explain. “There was a gate in Lover’s Lake, which we obviously found,” your arms wave behind you. “The same lake where Patrick died. Now, where else has a dead body been found?”

“Eddie’s trailer,” Nancy straightens, understanding where you’re going with this. Looking at Eddie, she asks him how far it is. 

“Seven miles.” 

Your head drops. “Why couldn’t you have lived closer?”

“I’m sorry I’m… poor?” Eddie looks at you incredulously. 

You flick a dismissive hand at him, but Robin cuts in between you two. “Nancy, I know your house here is, like, weirdly, creepily frozen in time and shit–”

“It’s what?” Obviously you missed some important details. 

Robin holds her hand up. “I’ll explain later. Anyways, haven’t you always had bikes?”

You and Nancy share a look, both thinking the same thing: the bikes would be perfect. That, and they’re kinda your only option at the moment. 

– 

Since you’re in no condition to bike (your thigh has only just stopped bleeding) and there’s only four bikes anyways, Steve has you wrap your arms around his chest and stand on his pegs. He claims it’s so that you can avoid putting any weight on your leg, but you honestly think he just wants you to hold him. Pressing your body close to his, you look around at the houses you pass.

In a strange, twisted way, it’s exhilarating biking through an Upside Down Hawkins. Everything, and yet nothing, is the same. The houses you pass are frozen in time, empty, ghostly. Robin, Nancy, and Eddie bike alongside you and Steve. The scene is almost reminiscent of the night you biked Will home, wind in your hair and the night sky before you. 

Everything has changed since then.

Somewhere along the route to Eddie’s, you bike past the Creel house. Your arms tighten instinctively around Steve. A chill runs through you, the house is just as haunting in the Upside Down as it is back in your universe. Your head throbs being so close to it, as if warning you, but Steve is turning into Eddie’s neighborhood before you can think much else of it. 

“That’s gotta be a Guinness World Record.” Robin throws her bike down, breathless. “Most miles traveled interdimensionally.”

Steve coughs, swatting at the particles in the air. “Just inhaled a bunch of that crap.”

“I’ve been trying not to think about how much of the Upside Down we’ve ingested since being here.”

“It’s stuck in my throat, Y/N.”

“Again, I’m trying not to think about that.”

Eddie opens his trailer door and, just as Dustin predicted, there’s a gate. It’s just like the one in Lover’s lake had been: illuminating red light, vines all around its edges. An open wound. 

“This is where Chrissy died.” Eddie stares up at the gate, which resides in the ceiling. He swallows heavily. “Like, right where she died.”

“I’m sorry.” Your hand finds Eddie’s arm. You don’t know much about what their relationship had been, but he seems to have cared about the girl a lot. 

Eddie gives you a tight lipped smile, his eyes shining slightly. As he looks at you, Robin sees something moving in the gate. “I think there’s something in there.”

Something starts to protrude from it, causing the gate to swell rapidly. The vines almost seem to snarl at the intrusion. An ominous, unsteady croak emits from the gate. The sound sets your nerves on edge and Steve shoves you behind him protectively. Hand on your knives, you raise them, bracing. 

The gate explodes, spewing liquid and vines everywhere. You all scream, jumping back, as something rips through the membrane-like material. Unable to tell what’s just happened, you squint up at the ceiling.

Nothing jumps out at you, no bats come to feast on your flesh. Finding Steve’s eye, you silently ask him if you should walk closer. Nodding, he grabs your hand, and together you creep towards the remains of the gate.

When you look up, you find Dustin’s smug, joyous face staring back at you. Only he’s upside down with Max, Lucas, and Erica, all just as in shock as you are.

You’ve never been more relieved to see them in your life. Dropping your hands to your knees, you bend over and finally breathe. “Oh, thank God.”

“No way…” Steve waves at them, and they wave right back. “Hi.”

“Dustin!” If your leg wasn’t hanging by a thread, you’d be jumping up and down right now. Instead, you opt for waving like a madman at your brother. The entire situation is so fucking bizarre, but you don’t even care anymore. “You did it!”

“I did it!” Dustin giggles. “Bada bada boom!”

After some heated discussions and a few arguments, Dustin and the others come up with a way to get the five of you out of the Upside Down. Using Eddie’s bed sheets as a makeshift rope had been the easy part. What caused nearly a fist fight between Max and Dustin had been figuring out a soft landing pad for you guys. 

“I, uh. Have a mattress?” Eddie finally suggested when he noticed Max’s fist clenching. 

She glared at him. “Why didn’t you say anything sooner?”

“Well, I mean. It’s-uh. Minor details?”

But none of them had time to question Eddie’s sudden shyness regarding his mattress. Dustin got straight to work tying the bed sheets together while Max and Lucas worked on dragging the mattress out of Eddie’s room. 

However, the moment it landed on the ground, all eyes went to the giant stains on the bed. Cringing in disgust, you eye Eddie.

Seeing your disapproving look, he swallows. “Those stains are, uh…” He tries to come up with an excuse, but eventually he realizes it’s better to just accept defeat. “I don’t know what those stains are.”

“Would we want to know even if you knew?” You ask him, already knowing the answer.

“... Probably not.”

Dustin tosses the bed sheet rope up, or rather down, through the gate. “Not quite sure how these physics are gonna work, but here goes nothing.”

Miraculously, it lands perfectly in front of you. Dustin tugs at the rope before letting go of it completely. You gasp. The rope stands on its own, stiff but secure, and Dustin lets out a pleased laugh. “Abracadabra.”

“I’ve never understood physics.” You say, pulling at the rope. It doesn’t move. “But even I can admit that this is cool.”

Dustin high fives Erica and Robin steps up first. “Guess I’m the guinea pig.”

“Please be careful.” You tell her, already dreading your own ascent. Your shoulder still aches and you were never the best at climbing the rope for gym. You preferred soccer, track, anything that involved leg coordination. Not upper body. 

Robin slowly climbs up, and when her body hits the disgusting mattress back in your dimension, you let out a breath of relief. “That was kinda fun,” Robin giggles slightly.

Then Eddie stares at you, Steve, and Nancy. He waits for someone to move, obviously not wanting to be next. But when no one does, he shakes his head. “Alright, I guess I’ll go.”

Steve holds the rope steady and Eddie falls onto his mattress safely. He sits up, exhilarated. “That was fun.” He echoes Robin. 

Steve gestures for Nancy to go next. “I’ll help Y/N up after you’re done.”

She gives him an uncertain look, eyeing your injuries, and you try to smile at her reassuringly. “Go, I’ll be fine. Promise.”

Knowing it’s as good of an answer she’ll get from you, Nancy takes a deep breath. “See you on the other side.”

You grab her waist and help hoist her up alongside Steve. She’s swift, her strength impresses you. She’s almost reached the top before you hear the first chime. 

It’s loud, deafening. The chime of a grandfather clock.

Another chime follows, then a third, a fourth. It wracks your skull with its force. 

You turn, gasping, expecting to find the grandfather clock that Max had seen in her vision. Only you’re met with darkness. You can’t see anything, you can’t find a way out. You can’t feel Steve next to you, your hands try to find his in the dark, but all they’re met with is air. 

“What–” Panic chokes you. None of this is right, you don’t know where you are, you don’t know what’s happening and you can’t feel Steve and–

The sensation of sunlight kissing your face stops you. 

Your eyes open. You’re no longer in Eddie’s trailer. 

You’re outside, there’s sunshine all around you. In front of you is a field of dandelions, their sweet yellow reflects the gold of the sun above. The grass beneath your feet is soft, lush and green. A bee flies past your head and someone calls your name.

You’ve been here before. In the distance resides a small house on a hill. The blue door and white frames of your childhood home welcomes you. You’re back in Virginia. Someone calls your name again.

The voice is familiar. 

It’s your father, calling you home. 

The realization knocks all the air out of your lungs. None of this is real. You know it isn’t real, but to hear your father’s voice, so sweet and saccharine again, it makes you weak. But it isn’t real. Your legs begin to move, you’re running before you can think of anything else. 

This is a vision. The scent of oak trees and strawberries isn’t real. The wheat that skims your thighs as you run doesn’t exist. “This is a vision,” you try to talk to yourself, your fingers dig into your pockets for your walkman. 

You know you’re supposed to always have it on you, that’s what Dustin told you, but there’s nothing there. Panic swells within your chest once more. “No, please–”

Distracted as you look for your walkman, you don’t see the body in front of you.

Colliding into your father, he steadies you. “Woah, there.”

His calloused hands are rough and familiar. He’s laughing, his voice is the same gruff voice that used to sing you to sleep. Your father looks down at you and your entire body freezes when your eyes meet his. 

You haven’t seen him ever since you were twelve. He looks the same as the day he left. His smile is the same, the crooked teeth charming. Your father’s nose still points up ever so slightly. The only indication that he’s aged are the wrinkles that line his face, years of sunlight etching them. 

But it’s his eyes that hurt you the most. They’re still kind. 

“What are ya runnin’ from, ladybug?” Your father asks you, his southern drawl liquid honey to your ears. 

Tears build within you hearing the childhood nickname. You were his ladybug for as long as you could remember. When he used to call, he’d whisper the name over the phone as an apology for everything he’d done to you. 

Because you can’t help it, because you’ll never be able to do this again, you hug your father. He lets out a soft chuckle at the impact, his arms hold you as they’ve always done. Your face buries itself into his rough t-shirt.

You’re a little girl who needs her daddy right now. 

“I.. I missed you, daddy.” Voice breaking, you begin to cry. 

Your father’s palm rests against your hand. He hums, soothing the ache in your bones. “You know you can never outrun it.”

The words unsettle you, there’s something about them that causes you to pull away. “Outrun what–?” “The guilt, ladybug. It will always find you.” Your father’s smile twists into a sickening grimace. The muscles in his face conjoin, his eyes darken as his voice becomes gravel. Deeper. Until it isn’t your father’s voice anymore, but someone else's. “I will always find you.”

Too late do you realize that it’s Vecna who now has you. You start to scream, thrashing in your father’s arms to escape, but he only grips you harder. He’s laughing, but it’s no longer your father’s laughter. 

Suddenly you’re thrown into the lake behind you. You fall, screaming, as you descend deep into a pitch black void. Your arms reach out, you try to find anything to grab onto, but there’s nothing. It’s just endless emptiness. 

You land harshly on your back, all the air gone. You gasp, choke on whatever air remains in your body. The impact leaves you coughing, clawing at the ground beneath you to breathe. Soil scrapes under your nails, your palm gets cut on a root.

You’re in the woods. 

Scrambling to sit up, you realize you’re in the same part of the woods that Will went missing in. Fear cuts through your veins. Why would Vecna take you here?

“Will?” You’re on your feet now, cupping your hands over your mouth as you shout his name. Does Vecna have him? Have you lost him again? “Will!”

“He needed you that night.” Vecna’s voice taunts you, the sound like rocks grinding together. “Where were you?”

You’re running now. Branches cut your face as you break through them. You have to find Will. You can’t lose him again. You can’t do that to Jonathan, to Joyce and El and Dustin and Mike and everyone else. You’re the one who lost Will that night.

He had needed you. Isn’t that what Vecna said?

“Nancy!” Sobbing, you call for someone, anyone. But no one answers. Your vision blurs with tears, there’s someone running behind you. Chasing you. Terrified, you scream for the person you need the most. “Steve!”

Saying his name must trigger something, because suddenly the scene changes. You’re no longer in the woods. You’re on the ledge of someone’s roof, overlooking a window sill. A large, bay window that you’ve spent countless slow mornings residing on. 

Steve’s house. 

He’s standing in front of his bed, facing the window, facing you, but he doesn’t look at you. Not how he always does; his gaze lacks warmth. 

“Steve!” You pound on the glass, you try desperately to get him to acknowledge you, but he doesn’t. His eyes are on Nancy, who sits on the bed before him. He leans down, brushes her hair out of her face, before bridging the distance between them.

You watch as Steve kisses Nancy. He cups her chin the way he cups yours. Bile rises in your throat; you can’t turn away. Their kisses become heated, Steve is tugging at Nancy’s hair and her clothes. She tugs at him as well, he helps her remove his shirt.

Nancy’s lips trace the expanse of Steve’s neck and his eyes, once closed in bliss, now open. He looks right at you. 

“Did you really think I’d forget her, Y/N?” His voice digs into your ears. Nancy nips at his neck and he moans. He throws his head back, looks at you again. “I can’t. At least, not as easily as your dad forgot you.”

You stumble back, crying so hard you can barely breathe. Steve laughs seeing your heartbroken reaction. It’s cruel and awful. He’s cold. You’ve never known his voice to hold so much malice. Not towards you. Not towards anyone. 

He’s wrong. Steve doesn’t love Nancy, not anymore. Vecna is the one saying this, you know it isn’t Steve. He would never say any of this to you, he could never be so cruel to you. He loves you. You know he does. 

“N-no! This isn’t-this isn’t real–”

But the hatred in Steve’s eyes causes your foot to catch on the edge of the roof. You don’t have time to catch yourself; your body is weightless again, only this time it’s a much shorter fall. You land on concrete. Ripping your eyes open, there are domed walls around you. 

Nancy stands above you. 

Hyperventilating, you crawl away from her. You’re in Steve’s pool, only it’s empty, infested with vines, and your fingers stain the ground with blood. Everything in your body is screaming at you to run.

“Y/N–” Nancy tries to stop you, but you scream at her, kicking. She only barely avoids your fury. Holding her hands up, she lowers her voice, softens it. She’s crying, her terror the same as yours. “Y/N, it’s me, okay?”

Your body trembles with exhaustion. You close your eyes, tired of fighting. “Please be real.”

“I’m real.” Nancy swears to you, carefully reaching for you. When you allow her touch, she helps you stand up. 

The memory of her having sex with Steve is burned into your mind. You can’t look Nancy in the eye. She breathes heavily next to, looking around for a way out, when she sees something. A strangled cry leaves Nancy’s lips.

Barbara Holland’s corpse sits on the other side of the pool.

You cover your mouth with a gasp, choking slightly at the sight. Nancy cries out in pain, in grief, seeing her best friend’s body dismembered by vines. You stumble towards Nancy and hold her as she sobs. 

“Do you remember what you did, Nancy? Or have you already forgotten?” Vecna’s voice shakes the pool. “Don’t worry, I showed Y/N. When I kill someone… I never forget.”

A sob collapses in your chest. Barb’s death hadn’t been Nancy’s fault. Yet to place her in the same pool Barb was killed in, to show Nancy her corpse, is unrelenting cruelty. 

All around you, blood pours from the vents of the pool. It comes out quick, thick, at a dizzying speed. Nancy tugs at your hand and practically throws you up the ladder to escape. But when you reach the top, you’re met with a red hell.

It’s exactly how Max drew it.

Fragments of stairs, jagged pieces of wood, a grandfather clock, they all drift through the air painted with blood-red. Somewhere there’s screaming, the sound only drowned out by lightning. A clock ticks over and over again. Its metronome is maddening.

Nancy holds your hand and neither one of you lets go. Having nowhere else to go, you’re forced to walk down the stairs you arrived at. The clock chimes again and your heart stops.

“I see you’ve been looking for me, Nancy. And Y/N…” Vecna pauses, preying on you. “I’ve been watching you for quite some time.”

Everything stops.

“All the guilt, all the pain.” 

It comes to you in flashes. 

How Will used to smile at you, before his childhood was taken from him. Max’s blue eyes, shining with youth and happiness, before grief killed her. Billy, how he would be kind to your mother at the pool. Hopper, the way you’d bicker with him just to get him to smile.

It’s all gone because of you; you can’t remember how to breathe. 

Vecna feeds on your fear. “How fragile you’ve become… like a dandelion.” 

The wording, it’s too specific to not mean anything. Dandelions were once one of your favorite flowers. Before a nightmare from last summer changed everything. The dandelions had filled your mouth with razors and choked you. Someone called your name in the distance, they’d been too late to save you.

The dream had felt so real. You’d woken up with tears in your eyes.

And now you know it had been Vecna all along. Even back then. He’s been watching you for far longer than you realized. The realization chokes you, the fear overwhelms you. He’s been here all along.

Nancy yanks at your arm, you can barely hear her over the roaring in your head. “Y/N, listen to my voice.” 

She’s shaking you, trying to bring you back to her, but you’re lost. Hyperventilating, you struggle to catch your breath. You feel too vulnerable. Raw. Exposed. There are corpses strung up by vines in front of you. Fred’s broken jaw. Chrissy’s snapped neck. Patrick’s empty eye sockets. 

The same will happen to you. 

You’ve spent so long trying to be strong, trying to keep everyone safe. You’ve devoted your entire life to protecting others, helping them. But Vecna has been watching you for almost an entire year, maybe even longer, and you hadn’t noticed.

It’s why he’s targeted Max. He watched you take care of everyone you loved. Vecna watched you raise the girl. He knew it’d hurt you the most to lose her. It hadn’t been a coincidence. It’s all your fault. It’s always your fault. Will went missing because of you. Billy died because you hadn’t said anything. Max will die because you hadn’t seen the signs sooner. 

Nancy’s screams fall deaf on your ears. She shakes you, begs you to come back, but why should you?

This is all your fault. 

It’s always your fault. 

It’s always your fault. It’s always your fault. It’s always your fault. It’s always–

You feel your body lift. 

Everything fades to black.

-

⌑ series masterlist

⌑ if youd like to buy me a coffee ☕︎

⌑ thank you for reading ! feel free to like, comment, reblog, or send in an ask so we can chat <3

[digitaldiseas3]

well that physics quiz went quite fucking awful

[just-horrible-things]

‘Verse: Box Boy Universe Story: A Girl Called Spider Timeline: A little way through Rayce’s training

Milestone [Prev | Next]

By the time the gag comes off, Rayce's jaw muscles are knots of pain from constantly chewing on it and never fully closing his mouth. He has no idea how long it’s been, none at all. Days? Weeks?

He holds very still, mouth slackly open as demanded, and lets Handler Sharan massage the tight muscles with her fingertips. It's supposed to be a reward, he can tell, but it hurts more than it helps. 

What he wants, with the gag off, is food. 

He got his tiny rations of shake anyway. It would coat the bit and escape from the corners of his mouth, and he’d spend what felt like hours trying to work every last particle out of the grooves in the rubber with his tongue, and Sharan would mock him for being messy. 

He'll do anything for more than a few mouthfuls to eat, just like he'll do anything to be allowed to sleep. 

God he needs to sleep. At least they let him sometimes now. He knows it’s never more than a couple of hours at a time, but he's good as gold just for the promise of it. 

The second thing he wants is to use his voice. 

It's very possible to beg through a gag. You don't need to be able to form clear syllables to make the cadence of please, please, Handler understood.

But you can't communicate anything they aren't already expecting to hear. 

He doesn’t know how to ask without getting punished, but he’s desperate to find a way.

It's been way, way too long, and still no hint of when they're going to take his memories. He should be glad, he knows he should, but all he can feel is sick dread.

What's all this training even good for if they're going to make him forget it? Is it just for the sake of cruelty? Or are they not going to wipe him? He's scared to hope – but even more scared of what it might mean. 

What is this? Is he part of some new experimental protocol? What's going to happen to him when they're done? 

Reluctantly, he swallows all his questions. He uses the privilege of talking only to recite "yes, Handler" and "no, Handler" and "please, Handler" and "I'm sorry, Handler".

He needs to be good enough to get fed, that's the only goal he can hold onto. 

They won't starve him to death – unless they will. How is he supposed to know what they'll do, when this isn't a standard training protocol?

"Well done, trainee," Handler Sharan opens as she walks into the training room.

Cosmo is on his knees, balancing a tray on his outstretched arms, shaking from exertion. There isn't a single thought in his head – there isn't room, the struggle to hold still through the pain is everything. 

He almost – almost – makes a pitiful questioning sound in response to the praise. But she doesn't like when he just makes noises. Some of the others don't mind. 

She walks over and lays a hand on the tray. "Hold," she instructs, before pushing slowly down. 

Wide-eyed, he does his best. His posture suffers as he tries to engage his back to resist the relentless downwards force. 

He holds for a few seconds, but she increases the pressure until she forces his trembling arms down. 

"I'm sorry, Handler," he whimpers wretchedly through clenched teeth.

When she lets up, he almost loses the tray as his arms spring back up. 

She tousles his hair – which is as good as praise, which means no switch – and sick relief floods his body. 

"I'll let it slide," she says. "You've done very well, trainee." "Thank you, Handler." "Do you know what you've done?" He hesitates, because he probably should know, but only for a fraction of a second. He isn't allowed to think about his answers. "No, Handler," he admits fearfully.

She smiles, and it's another heady rush of relief.

"You've gone a whole day without doing anything wrong," she says. "This is a milestone. You deserve a reward."

A whole day. Probably he should feel something about that – about how none of his previous days have been judged good enough. 

But all he can care about is the word reward. Please, please let it be sleep or food or mercy and not just another sick humiliation he has to pretend to be grateful for. 

She takes the tray from him, and tells him "position two". Moving almost hurts more than holding still, but it's worth it to take some of the weight off his knees.

"How would you like a full meal, trainee?" "Yes, please, Handler." He knows better than to expect anything but shake or maybe loaf, but his mouth still waters instantaneously at the thought. Another smile. "I thought so."

She leaves him there, and even being left in just position two is reprieve enough that the temptation of sleep immediately tries to smother his thoughts. He can't let his head nod, not now.

He's so out of it that it takes him a minute to realise that the door is open.

Instead of excitement, he feels his blood run cold. 

It's a test, a trap, it has to be. It can't be anything else. 

He wants out of here so bad but there's no freedom on the other side of one open door, he knows that. 

It's a test, and maybe that means the promise of food was a lie, and he can't take it if it's a lie, he's going to have another crying breakdown and he'll be punished for that too. 

The open door means nothing except a threat of more pain. He has to believe that. 

He's broken. 

They haven't even wiped him and he's sitting on his knees looking at a rare opportunity and feeling nothing but dread. 

When Sharan returns with a half-full bottle of beige nutrient shake in her hand, the gleam in her eyes confirms it – she knew full well she'd left that door open. It was a test. 

Cosmo has eyes only for the food. 

He's far away, a million miles from the tiny image of her, and his ears are full of a rushing, hissing warmth that usually means he's passing out. 

She hand feeds him. One hand cups the back of his head while the other carefully tips the bottle for him to drink.

It's everything he wanted, enough to fill his stomach, and he doesn't even taste it. 

He's a million miles away, and none of it matters.

[Next]

[bre3zycoins]

the umbrella academy comics are so weird i literally cant decide if theyre shit or if ive become enlightened from them. like every chapter you read its like dropping a tab you got from a guy behind a seven eleven dumpster in abq whos trying to convince you hes john, from the bible.

[munch-mumbles]

ive been a little upset about it all night so i need to write out all the things that happened at work today and are bugging me so i can TRY to get it out of my head and actually RELAX bc i just keep pacing in circles around it instead of just accepting it and moving on

[peridots-pixiwolf]

1, 8, and 18 for the asks~!

1: Favorite color to work with

Never really thought about it before! I don’t think I actually have a specific color (maybe greens or reds, but I’m not sure those aren’t just often-used as opposed to well-liked), but the eyestrain, bright yellow/red/teal/blue palette definitely fits the bill, it’s Very fun to use. Gold’s fun to render, too.

8: Show some art from 1-2 years ago

Boye. 1-2 years is a large time frame. I’m taking it to mean anything between one and two years ago, which pretty much lands everything in 2021. I’m not sure if this was supposed to be pieces I actually still like or an accurate representation of that year, I’ll choose the first, as I wouldn’t consider most of it terribly interesting.

Feb 18 - one of my very few lineless pieces, for a person I engaged in frequent art trades with

Sep 4 - yeah we sure are gonna skip seven months, here’s one of the first times I used a non-black color for shading/lineart: a beloved older OC, mosa :]

Sep 28 - A cropped screenshot from a time I tried pixel art again. Surprisingly, it wasn’t connected to any media or world of mine, I just had an idea for an animation (...that did become the basis for a lesser fictional world). Unfortunately the file’s autosave was overwritten and it wasn’t finished, so a couple screenshots and a video of my progress are all that remain of it

18: How long have I been drawing? When did I begin to call myself an artist?

Funny thing is I was just wondering about that. I've been drawing since I could hold a pencil, I've had long phases of experimenting with clay and origami and pipe cleaners, five years ago I made an art folder for school that was so filled by my various drawings and doodles it's now two inches thick (I carried it around with me everywhere, no matter the circumstance), four years ago I added pixel art to the menagerie, and yet I only actually considered myself an artist two years ago. That was when I was gifted an old art tablet, and thus began what I've previously described as a personal renaissance, as I was allowed access to tools I never used before, diversified and improved, forgot everything I thought I knew about art to learn it again. Fun times.

[glow-in-the-dark-death]

To Be Wooed

I blacked out and wrote this. This is so silly to me.

Enjoy!

Look Danny didn't mean to kill the Joker it was an honest mistake, he was still recovering from escaping the GIW and whatever they had used on him had still been in effect when he honest to Ancients ran into the fake clown.

Of course it doesn't look like an accident with how he left the Joker

But it was!

Really it really was!

Whatever the GIW did was out of his system, but that still left a very dead and coreless Joker.

Yeah...apparently Joker had a core, but not anymore because he ate it like it was pop rock candy, if the weird cousin spicy version of it. He still feels like he has some of it stuck in his teeth.

Anyways! Not the point!

Joker! Very dead at his feet, what is he supposed to do-

THUMP

Oh Ancients he's going to die again that's the Red Hood!

"Uh...I can explain, well not really. But it was an accident! I promise and-"

"You killed him?"

"I'm really sorry? He bumped into me, it was an accident I swear!"

"Go on a date with me."

WHa-what?! Did he just hear correctly why would he ask him out out of nowhere it made no sense and..oh.

Red Hood's been touched by Death not like him but enough to count, and enough to have some ghostly instincts.

Okay ghostly courting he can do that, he totally can, no sweat!

Shit who is he kidding he may have the instincts but he was never actually taught how he's supposed to use them or anything.

Well he's always been good at making it up as he goes, and at least his instincts will help push him in the right direction.

So he should just do what feels natural to him.

"Yes I'll go out with you. If I were to make jewelry and knives out of his bones would you accept them?"

"...For me to wear and use. Yes."

~

Danny freaking out about just killing and kinda eating someone: I'm in so much trouble!

Jason behind him fixing his appearance: "Well hello there handsome come by here often?"

~

Joker bumping into Danny: "ahAHA you will make a good experiment!"

Danny is high as a kite and getting the munchies: "I didn't know I could order food with my mind!"

Joker: "Whut-"

~

Jason seeing Danny absolutely wrecking Jokers shit: *Ghost Instincts Activated*

~

Jason falling fast for Danny without even knowing his name: "Can I pretty please kiss you?"

Danny realizing what's going on but still being clueless: "Does that mean you will accept these gifts made from Jokers bones?"

Jason's Ghost Instincts rising to a fever pitch: "I'm going to woo the fuck out of ya and then we'll get married then we'll fu-"

~

Danny's Ghostly Instincts being connected to his 'Protection' & Jason's to his 'Revenge' showing these kind of specific gestures towards them is incredibly romantic.

~

Jason and Danny's relationship basically:

~

~

~

#They're like Morticia & Gomez absolutely smitten for each other

#Jason brings a crying & beaten up GIW who has been stalking Danny

#Danny almost swooned

#They start flirting with each other while standing on top of the GIW dude

#Jason's goons are happy that their boss found 'The One' apparently but can they please stop eyefucking each other while they're there and-

~

Just an Idea

[pearlymel]

A duty— Capitano

Synopsis: You were set to marry a fatui... Wait, is that a fucking harbinger?!

Wc: 3.3k

Warning(s): fem reader for this one, reader gets called "wife", Capitano is described to have dark blue eyes (i swear i did my research and they said yes to dark blue eyes), MDNI masturbation but no sex between them.

Notes: don't ask the reason why you are in an arranged marriage, my brain is fried. You can come up with your own reasons ! Wrote this with my eyes cursing at me to sleep so half not proofread. Part 2 is out here. Part 3 is out here!

Tick tock.

You watched as the clock ticked louder than usual, cringing to yourself when the sound became unpleasant to you, it was ringing in your ears.

Even the fatui around you were like statue's, you considered for a minute to check if they were even alive and breathing.

The door then swinged opened, everyone's head suddenly lowering slightly which made you even more confused, but you mimicked their gestures nonetheless for respect.

Heavy footsteps echoed in the room, the sound only getting louder and heavier the closer it got you.

The steps finally stopped, and your glance up to see a big—no, giant man standing right infront of you. He seemed to be wearing a helmet to cover his face, long black hair that protrutes from the back of his helmet and over his shoulders, and the big coat that was full of fur draped around his shoulders.

You must say, he went all out with his appearance as a fatui.

"Are you perhaps..." You started, breaking the silence that hung think in the air, "... The person who I'm arranged to marry?" You finish off, tilting your head curiously.

He doesn't answer immediately, rather, he looks down at you, observing your features which makes you wipe your sweaty hands to your sides.

"Il Capitano," he finally spoke, a raspy voice, you noted. Capitano extended his arm out for you, and you willingly accepted it, giving it a gentle shake.

"Member of the fatui Harbingers."

His next words made your hand freeze. Did he just say Harbinger? Not even a normal fatui like you thought, but a whole harbinger. Standing right before you, and shaking your hand.

Well you were screwed because what the hell have you gotten yourself into.

You both were quiet now, staring at eachother that it's becoming almost painfully awkward.

"Your name?" He asks, letting your hand go and it's like you were snapped back to reality when you immediately blurt out your name.

He repeats your name like you were on his kill-off list, but that was just overthinking on your part.

"I'd like your company from now on." He announced, stepping a tad closer to you which made you hold in your breath.

"then i shall be at your company..." Giving him your best small smile, you bowed your head again.

•••

Your wedding basically consisted of a witness and marriage papers that needed your signature. You didn't even get the chance to wear a traditional wedding dress nor have a honeymoon, which you don't think is necessary for now since everything was going too fast for your liking.

And Marina, your new personal maid, has become your new friend in this big estate of Capitano's, teaching you everything you must and mustn't do. Kind of like a 101 guide on how to be a wife.

Ever since that day a two months ago, you have not done anything but cause trouble.

You wanted to go out? Well you need your husband's permission. You want to eat something? Ask Marina first and she'll whip it for you no problem, and no you're not allowed to cook by yourself. You bombarded Capitano with questions about himself, but his answers wouldn't be enough as they were about a word or a sentence long.

As boring as that is, this is your life now for... Archons know how long. But you remember it being temporary, if your memory did not fail you.

Capitano had returned back to the estate for the night, and for the first time, you greeted him at the front door with a smile, wishing you could see him smile back at you.

"My lord," you bow elegantly like how Marina taught you, speaking even softly like nothing ever happened a week ago, the fit you remember throwing at him, demanding an answer on why you couldn't do anything around.

The silence in the hallways was deafening, broken only by the clanking of his armor as he took a step closer to you, his towering figure cast an intimidating shadow upon you. "It is rare," he spoke in a blunt tone, "to see you this obedient." Capitano paused, his gaze scrutinizing your every move. "You have been behaving recently?"

You couldn't help but fidget with the hem of your clothes nervously like you have been caught, a nervous quiet laugh escaping your lips, "i believe I've always behaved."

Capitano let out a terse sigh at your answer, his eyes unflinching through the slits of his helmet. "To your luck," he muttered, "you have been... tolerable." The word 'tolerable' hung heavily in the air, making it clear that it was the most positive adjective he could summon about you.

"However," he added after a few moments, "you seem more compliant than usual today. This is an... interesting change." His tone was questioning, as if hinting that he was wary of your compliance, expecting a hidden scheme behind it.

"Shall we have dinner?" You change the topic, changing your position to stand by his side so that both of you could walk to the dining room together. Capitano nods curtly, acknowledging your suggestion. He allows you to approach, though there is a stiffness in his movements as he lets you stand by his side.

The two of you begin walking to the dining room, your husband's steps were heavy, and it was evident that he was still in his full armor, the sound of his footsteps filling the hall.

"You are not usually the one to suggest dinner," he commented, "I thought today was nice... Despite how i always fight you, forgive me." you mumble apologetically.

You become quiet when he doesn't answer back, your hands clasped infront of you instead.

You both soon reached the dining hall, now sat opposite eachother on the dining table, Capitano's gaze remained fixed upon you as you both sat across each other, the coldness in his eyes didn't waver as he observed you intently. The silence seemed to thicken as the only sound in the room was the clinking of silverware against the ceramic dinnerware.

"How was your trip?" You asked casually while stuffing some veggies in your mouth.

"The trip was... uneventful," he replied tersely, pausing briefly before continuing. "The usual Fatui business, nothing that concerns you, wife." His words were as biting as ever, indicating that he wasn't keen on discussing his business matters with you.

"nofing mfun?" You ask again with your mouth too full this time, "don't speak with your mouth full of food." You swallow your food down when you caught a glimpse of disappointment in his tone, maybe he was even frowning if you could see him behind his helmet.

"i will retire to my chambers after this," you place down the silverware on the tablecloth to reach for the glass of water next to you. Capitano doesn't answer, but he nods slowly in return.

•••

The world was still and the moon illuminated the grounds outside, casting a soft glow upon the landscape. You could hear the occasional sound of crickets and the whispered rustle of leaves, creating a peaceful atmosphere inside the expansive estate.

The minutes ticked by slowly, each one seemingly longer than the last as you anticipated Capitano's return this time. You fidgeted with the sheets, as you waited, you recalled Marina's words, a distant memory echoing in your head, "It is custom for a wife to wait for her husband to return before she retires to bed." You never did that, no. You would always sleep before he did and he would always wake up before you did. It was rare to even see him on your side of the bed, only sometimes when you would wake up from a sudden heavy weight shifting next to you.

Despite being married for quite some time, the connection between you two was still distant and cold. Capitano didn't seem to care for you on any emotional level, instead seeing you as a mere accessory to his life as a mighty Capitano of the Fatui Harbingers. A possession rather than a wife, you thought.

Capitano's steps echoed through the room as he stepped into your bedroom, his footsteps heavy and deliberate. He closed the door behind him with a thump, shutting out the outside world and isolating the two of you in the room.

He observed you quietly for a moment, "You're not in bed yet?"

"i was waiting for you."

"And why, pray tell, were you waiting for me?" he asked, crossing his arms over his chest. "Marina..." You mumble, standing up from the bed while looking away in a bit of embarrassment, "she taught me it was custom for a wife to wait for her husband."

Capitano seemed even more surprised upon hearing your answer, his eyes narrowing slightly. "Marina... I see," he said slowly, of her name sending a ripple of irritation through him. Capitano disliked Marina's influence on you and how she seethe mentioned to be teaching you things.

He strode closer to you, by now you were used to his presence that it would not make you involuntary step back, you instead wait for his next move.

Lifting his hand to take a few strands of your hair was the last thing you expected. The strands resting on his hand as he lifted it closer to his helmet, almost like a gesture of kissing your hair which made you blink rapidly.

"You don't have to," he whispered, his thumb gently caressing the strands, "don't have to listen to Marina or anyone. You may do your own thing in this estate. I just want you well taken care of and safe."

You think you may have just fallen in love with the man because... Why is your heart beating so fast that it could explode? Or wait, can he hear it?

Capitano then let go of your hair, walking past you as he started loosening the straps of his armor, "it is late," he muttered with a rasp, his hands working quickly to remove his armor. The sound of armor being unthreaded echoed through the room, punctuated by the clinks of metal.

Taking off his helmet next so casually made your eyebrows furrow and sit back on the bed with your head tilted to get a closer look at him.

His eyes were glowing dark blue, the most beautiful shade of blue you think you've ever seen. The prettiest face too despite his dark and intimidating aura.

"you're beautiful." You whispered in awe, though Capitano, who was half-way through removing his armor, paused for a moment as he heard your words. He wasn't expecting such a compliment from you. It was rare for you to praise him, preferring to defy him more often than not.

"Beautiful?" he repeated, his voice gruff, you noticed his expressions and tried to act cool, your fingers nervously scratching your neck out of habit when you get shy.

"You're beautiful too, my wife." This completely caught you off gaurd, but it doesn't stop you from smiling and laughing it off quietly.

"Goodnight." Your head rests on the pillow, and this time you face him in your sleep, and he makes the effort to mimick your gestures.

"Goodnight."

•••

"Marina, where is my wife?" That was the first thing he asked your personal maid the moment he arrived back from his mission. His head looking around rather than looking down directly at Marina.

"The lady should be at her chambers."

"She's not."

"What?" Poor Marina's eyes widened, she was sure she just gave you a basket of fruits and snacks in your room, even asking you if you needed anything else.

"... Forgive me, my lord. She's probably in the bat—"

"She's not in the bathroom." He replied in a low, dangerous tone that sent a shiver down her spine.

Where are you, my lady? Marinas thought through gritted teeth before exhaling out shakily, "i shall go find her at once." Marina began looking around every corner of the estate, and each room she opened without you in it, she would lose two years of her life with Capitano following her.

You couldn't have escaped, right?

Finally when she hurriedly went to the back of the estate, she let out a sigh of relief when she saw you sitting outside on the grass with the basket of goods she handed you earlier.

You wave your hands and both Capitano and Marina with a bright smile, causing his shoulders to relax when you were at last seen having fun by yourself.

"you're going to get me killed one day." Marina mouthed at you, but since there was some distance between you both, you just smiled and shrugged at her.

Capitano approached you slowly, his purposeful stride carrying him towards you with measured steps. You were perched on the grass, happily savoring the treats in your hands, when he suddenly materialized before you. "Sit." You pat the space next to you, to which he obliged without hesitation.

"Have you ever done this before?"

"No."

"Never? It's nice."

"You do seem to be enjoying yourself." He hums thoughtfully, and your smile widens, "The last couple of months have been interesting, and i get to know you better now." You say before popping a blueberry in your mouth to chew on.

"Blueberry?" You offer, raising your hand while holding a blueberry in between your thumb and forefinger.

You might think your husband is shy by how he looks around at first before taking off his helmet, cute. Eventually he leans to take the fruit between his teeth before chewing silently, the slight fruit juice glistening on his lips before his tongue along with his thumb swiped over his lower lip.

"you know," you suddenly speak, drawing your hips near him, "we've never kissed yet."

He pauses, staring at you while thinking deep about it, "does it bother you?"

"No, does the idea bother you?" Your question held a mixture of uncertainty and intrigue.

Without a warning, his hand held your left cheek with gentleness, his lips slotting against yours for three seconds max before it ended.

What?

Your eyes were wide open the whole three seconds of it too!

"What was that?" The horror in your eyes was evident, not because you were scared, but because you were caught off guard and your eyes were fucking open. Capitano, upon seeing your eyes, he immediately tried pulling away, thinking he might've scared you in some way.

But you were quick to hold his wrist firmly so it wouldn't leave your cheek. "I liked it." You blurt out with the reddest cheeks ever, and he's almost amused.

"But it was too fast," you clear your throat before tilting your head closer, "may i, husband?" How can he refuse when you asked so nicely too?

Your lips latch onto his for the second time, and this time, you were going to give him a proper kiss. With your lips moving with ease against his, the sounds of soft smacks of your lips together filling the air which makes the tips of his ears go red.

You don't continue after both of you pull away to catch your breath, your eyes staring deeply into eachother as he pressed his lips into a thin line.

"Let's not do this again," your heart almost drops at his words. Did you mess up again? Did he not like how it felt—

"In public, i meant. I wouldn't like anyone to see you in such a state."

You can definitely hear the crickets in your head. "So we can continue kissing?"

"Mm," he only hums back before reaching for his helmet to put it back on. "I have to leave, i will be back by midnight," and when he stands up, it was your cue to stand up to bid him goodbye.

"Take care, husband." You wrap you arms around him, and he circles his arms back around you into a tight hug. It was not your first hug together, so you got used to the feeling of not being able to breath for a couple of seconds before of his tight arms around you.

•••

Capitano expected you to be awake when he returned from a few errands he had to run earlier, expecting you to wait for for him so that both of you could sleep at the same time ever since you did that day.

But you were asleep, peaceful and relaxed on your shared bed. You, wearing nothing but a silky nightgown like you always do, the blanket shuffled messily on you which revealed your legs slightly parted, and your arms hugging the pillow underneath you.

You looked like an angel to him, so vulnerable.. so pretty like this—god was he pent up from today.

He hands clenched tightly into fists until his knuckles turned white as he looked away, instead busying himself in taking off his usually neat coat which was now covered in few splatters of crimson red.

The sound of the running water masked his muttering, instantly regretting his thoughtlessness. As he grabbed the bar of soap, he began to wash vigorously, trying to expel the memories of combat and the musky scent of carnage. His body couldn't be gentler with himself though, as he massaged his muscles that ached from the constant strain.

His heartbeat quickened as his mind wandered back to you. You were the sweetest thing in his life, and he would never ever hurt you, in fact, he would rather die than have your precious skin scratched. Or even cutting off the heads without hesitating if one would hurt you.

He hates himself for envisioning your body under his, or thinking about how skilled you would be with your tongue or hands. he thought he was a selfish lustful man for thinking of such thing when you were sound asleep and tired.

Unable to bear it any longer, he reached for himself, stroking slowly at first before heavier thrusts took over all while imagining how it would feel like to be inside your soft and warm cunt instead of his hard and rough fist. The steam from the shower served to muffle his low groans, half in agony, half in ecstasy. Closing his eyes, he pictured your warm smile or shy and embarrassed facial expressions as his release came steadily forth, his forehead hit the cool tiles as he let out a deep, satisfied sigh.

After taking a moment to get himself together, he turned off the water and faced the mirror. How can he go back to bed after jerking off to the thought of your smile and sleeping figure? He would very much rather bang his head on the wall.

But he dried off with a sigh and headed back to bed, trying to keep his eyes half closed with his back turned to you as he sinked down on the mattress, taking a bit of blanket to cover himself with his eyes forced shut.

Your sudden arms that enveloped around him from behind is what gave Capitano a scare. A literal scare to the big man.

Were you awake this whole time? Did you hear him back in the bathroom? Was he too loud?

But your soft snores made his stiff shoulders sag in relief, indicating you were still in deep in your dreams.

He decided to turn around to face you, looking down at how innocent you looked, how the moonlight seemed to glow on your face from the window, giving your features a glowy shine.

"You have ruined me," he whispered carefully while brushing off strands of your hair away from your face to press a goodnight kiss on your forehead. "I am yours, ruin me, break me, and love me as much as you want, my wife."

[blackpearlblast]

[ID: drawings of a golem animated by a palestinian flag painted on its forehead. it is seen: holding out its arms protectively in front of a crowd of children, the children also hold each other supportively; catching an air strike missile from the air and throwing it away or crushing it in its fist; turning its back so that a child can warm her hands by the earth oven built into its back, food in a pot is cooking on the fire and a boy holds a cup of steaming tea to his face and enjoys the aroma; clearing away rubble so a man can help up his wife who was buried underneath, she is clutching a baby to her chest; stooping down to look at a kitten a young boy is holding up to show it; and dissolving small flakes of clay from its finger into a glass of water, purifying it. end ID]

@fairuzfan asked people to create and share art for the strike. i wrote an artist statement and then set about trying to draw what i envisioned. artist statement below.

This golem is a protector that I wish I could gift to the children and adults in Gaza. The flag on its forehead is to show that love for the Palestinian people is an animating force for people fighting for a free Palestine all over the world, especially for those in Palestine who are trying to free themselves and their people. Love is the motivation for the call for a free Palestine, not hatred like people try to claim. It is very strong and fast and can catch air strikes out of midair and crush them to dust or throw them back in the direction they came from. It can lift all the rubble of a collapsed building very quickly so nobody can get trapped underneath. It has an earth oven in its back with an ever-burning flame that people can use to warm themselves and cook food and heat water to use to bathe themselves or make tea. Pieces of its clay can be crumbled up and mixed into water to make even the most brackish and unclean water pure and safe to drink.

The golem is always a bit of a tragic figure so I don't imagine it staying around forever once Palestine is free and it is no longer needed. I think it would use its great strength to help rebuild the destroyed houses, churches, schools, universities, hospitals, and mosques and then dive into the Jordan river and dissolve. It would clean the river of all pollution and make the water splash up over all the newly replanted fruit trees, causing them to grow big and strong. Its love for Palestine and its people can be tasted in the fruit they grow for generations.

I choose a specifically Jewish icon of protection because of how it feels to witness such horrors done in the supposed name of Judaism and the Jewish people. For many anti-zionist Jews, we feel like we are acting directly within the teachings of our stories and communities by opposing this genocide. It is difficult to understand how the very people and institutions who taught us these values now fight against them so fiercely. While obviously I would still oppose Israel were I not Jewish, the way I oppose Israel is directly informed by my Jewishness. I hope that someday, somehow, Judaism can bring as much joy and support to the Palestinian people as it has brought grief and destruction. That Jewish symbols used in the name of love and justice will bear more significance than the ones used in shows of hatred. Knowing the depth of the harm caused, I do not know if this is possible. But this artwork and everything I have dedicated myself to these past few months and continue to dedicate myself to in the future is born from this hope. I love you. Thank you for being on this planet with me. From the river to the sea, Palestine will be free! And it will be beautiful.

[rhaenyratargcryen]

you're my shotgun lover and i want it all | tyler owens (twisters)

masterlist ❈

summary: Every once in a while, the two of you will get a little too drunk, stay until last call, sneak back to your motel room, and fuck. Nobody knows – at least you don’t think they do – and you never talk about it when you’re sober. Tyler will generally stay until you fall asleep, but he’s always gone when you get up the next day. Only once has he woken up in bed with you the next morning, and you’ve never made that mistake again. There isn’t a name for what you feel for him, you don’t think, and you can’t tell what he thinks of the arrangement. Clearly he likes it, or he wouldn’t be making eyes at you from across three people’s laps as you pull these peanuts from their shells. author's note: i...wrote this...in one.......single......afternoon. my fingers hurt anyway he's so hot i have had a crush on glen powell since 2018 (set it up supremacy) but this movie reawakened something in me. i should probably watch top gun now

pairing: tyler owens x f!reader word count: 9,123 (...oopsie) warnings/tags: pWp (with, y'all!), alternate universe: canon divergence, friends to lovers, friends with benefits

also cross-posted to ao3 okay love you bye xoxo your comments and reblogs are appreciated but not required i will love you all the same i hope u like !!!! <3

all characters are 18+ these are 18+ activities minors pls do not interact my eye is twitching as i write this 

It has been one hell of a week.

The tornadic activity has been off the charts – more storms built up under ideal conditions for weather hell-bent on destruction in a multiple-day stretch than you can remember ever tracking before. Your team had obviously been up for the chase, but now that the storms have passed, and the sun shines on the cleanup efforts, you can’t help but wish you’d chosen a different life path. You love what you do, but God, were you tired. Blisters have formed on the palms of your hands despite the gloves you’d donned. You could practically feel the knots forming in your neck. You shovel one more load of leaf litter before heaving the blade into the ground and leaning against it. Across from you, a backhoe is demolishing and excavating the remains of a house.

You close your eyes and try to just let the sun warm your face, thinking about how fast it can all just be gone. Mother Nature’s a beautiful force, but she can be cruel.

“Hey, don’t be slowin’ down on me,” Tyler jokes, clapping a hand between your shoulder blades. You hadn’t heard him approach, and his voice has startled you, pulling you from your thoughts. “We’re ‘bout halfway done with our part, I think.”

“No,” you reply, swiping the back of your arm across your forehead, trying in vain to clear your bangs from your eyes, but they won’t budge. Tyler reaches up and, almost as if he isn’t even thinking about it, takes the unruly pieces of hair between his thumb and forefinger and tucks it behind your ear, underneath the temple of your sunglasses, to make sure it stays this time. The action is so intimate it sends a flush crawling up your neck. You chance a look around to make sure no one else has seen. “Not slowin’ down, I promise. Just thinking about how lucky we are to be alive. How sad it is that all these people just lost everything.”

You’ve known Tyler since the two of you were in college together, fast friends who’d stuck together through a lot that could've put a strain on any other relationship, although you hadn’t studied meteorology – you’d been in school to be a librarian. 

One night, he’d asked you to stay up and help him with a lab he’d missed for one of his classes, and he loves to say he knew it then – that you were hooked – but you were too far along in your degree to do anything about it now. Switching from an arts degree to one in STEM? You’d have had to start over from scratch. 

Tyler had formed his team while you were in grad school and he was working as a cowboy for the rodeo back home, and you’d dropped out without a second thought when he asked you to be a founding member, to travel the country with him every tornado season. Said he wouldn’t – couldn’t – think about doing it without you. You’ve been riding with him ever since.

The two of you share everything, always have, and sometimes you wonder if it might be too much for the professional relationship you’re supposed to have.

“That’s what we’re here for,” Tyler grins, the hand still glued to your back rubbing gently, sending goosebumps across your skin under your shirt. “To help ‘em feel like their luck is turnin’.”

Always the optimist, Tyler Owens. He clears his throat, the hand on your back pulling away, and steps slightly closer to you.

“One of the folks over there gave these to me,” he says, gesturing to a group of people gathering in front of a house that looks like something had tried to suck it into the ground from dead center. “I saved their cat from their screened-in porch, poor thing had been yowling all night apparently. Know these’re your favorite, so, here you go. I think you earned it.”

You take the tin from him and open it, your mouth instantly watering at the sight of the small, round butter cookies inside. “God,” you groan, picking one up and taking a bite, savoring it over your tongue. You can feel Tyler watching you carefully. “Thank you. You get me.”

“Do we get cookies, Tyler?”

Lily’s voice sounds from your left, and you glance over at her. The shit-eating look on her face tells you she did see Tyler fix your hair for you. Your stomach somersaults.

“If you’re good,” Tyler says, smirking, “after the sun sets, we can head back to the motel, find some shitty bar, and drinks’ll be on me, okay? How’s that sound?”

Lily whoops, turning to Dani, who’d since appeared beside her, and the two snicker and fist bump. 

“You need any help over here?”

You look back at Tyler, cupping one hand above your eyes to shield them from the sunlight. Despite your glasses, it shines bright from directly behind him, and you can hardly stand to look at him. 

“Yeah, I’m good,” you murmur in reply, bending down to toss some siding that had been blown off one of the houses on this street into the wheelbarrow you’ve been using. “You should go see what Boone’s up to – I don’t think anyone has seen him in a minute.”

No doubt Boone was hiding somewhere with one of the breakfast burritos Lily and Dani have been rolling since early that morning, seeing how long he can get away with not doing his part. He’s a good guy, but the manual labor side of the job isn’t really his thing.

“Eh, he’s better off wherever he is,” Tyler laughs, and a small smile takes over your face, too. “Hey, you sure you’re okay? You don’t need a break? You can take a minute to yourself, no one’ll judge. I know how this can all get to you a little more than it gets to everyone else.”

You know him well enough to know he’s not calling you weak-stomached, that he’s genuinely concerned for how you feel, but he’s right. It does all get to you. Settling in to help survivors of these natural disasters is just something that comes with the chasing – there isn’t one without the other for you and the rest of the crew. You nod, glancing back up at him. 

“I’m okay, Tyler. Go off and be the face of the operation – you don’t have to worry about me.”

Tyler’s eyes narrow, his gaze shifting between your eyes, trying to find evidence you’re withholding the truth from him, but he seems to find nothing. With a minute tip of his head, he turns to resume working through a long-term plan for rebuilding the town with the mayor and some other members of the local government. 

This is something else you know he loves to do – shmooze with higher-ups, show off his people skills. Not only are they higher-ups, they’re small-town folk. His kind of people. He knows how to get through to them, how to get them to trust him. You love that about Tyler. He’s never condescending – he always has a genuine desire to help. He’s been through this hundreds of times, and these people may only have been through it this one time. You look around at them, at the people of all ages picking up the pieces that remain of their community, then cross your fingers and send a thought out to anyone listening:

Please let it be the only time.

After a few more hours of genuinely back-breaking work, you hear Tyler’s sharp whistle and know it’s time, meandering over to his truck where it’s been parked for almost eighteen hours. Using your teeth, you pull your gloves from your hands and hiss. They’ve been rubbed raw, the skin blistering where each finger meets the palm. You try to ignore the throbbing sensation, leaning against the passenger side door and closing your eyes. The rest of the crew sidle up to you, taking long drags from water bottles and cigarettes and trying to make peace with how you’re leaving this place tonight.

“Does anyone else want to break off to shower first?”

It seems Dani’s the only one, and they shrug, putting their hand out, palm up, to Dexter, who hands them the keys to the RV.

“Meet y’all there,” they say, stifling a yawn, and you know it’ll be a bit before you see them. The rest of you will have to pile into Tyler’s truck, and before you can object, the other three crawl into the back seat and leave you on the front bench with Tyler. You let yourself in and close the door behind you, buckling and watching as Tyler shakes someone’s hand and hustles to meet the rest of you. His Texans cap hits the bench before he does, between the two of you, and he turns his keys in the ignition, buckling his own seatbelt.

“Where we headin’?”

“There’s a place with a mechanical bull nearby. I vote there.”

“How nearby is ‘nearby,’ Boone?”

“Uh,” he pulls his phone from his pocket, does a quick Google to double-check. “Forty-five minutes?”

Dexter leans over and grips Boone’s phone, reading the screen. “In the opposite direction of the motel, Boone.”

Everyone groans, objecting, and you press your hand against your temple to alleviate the pressure there. The noise, God, the noise.

“Could we go somewhere closer to the motel, maybe?”

“It’s got a mechanical bull,” Boone stresses, and everyone rolls their eyes.

“Boone, you know damn well we’re not making it back to the motel if we go that far away.”

He groans, and you pull your own phone out, checking Maps to see what’s around the motel.

“This one’s three minutes from where we’re stayin’,” you say, showing Tyler your screen, and he nods, shifting into reverse, backing out, and starting down the one lane of the street that’s been cleared of debris. 

“Hey Boone,” you toss over your shoulder as Tyler shifts into second gear. “By the way. Long time no see.”

Lily snorts, smacking you on the shoulder to let you know she thought that was a good one. Boone shakes his head. 

“Hey, just because you didn’t see me all day doesn’t mean I wasn’t out there, too. How do I know you were workin’, weren’t sitting on your ass in the shade somewhere, hm?”

You hold your raw, red palms out for him to inspect and that shuts Boone up quick. Tyler whistles as he gets an eyeful of your skin.

“God damn, girl,” Lily murmurs. “That looks like it hurts. I think I might have Aquaphor in my bag back at the motel if you want some.”

“I’ll be alright,” you reply, knocking your elbow against her knee behind you in thanks. “Appreciate you.”

The rest of the drive is taken mostly in silence, everyone in the backseat trying to rest their eyes, but you stay up, your eyes on the road, so Tyler isn’t the only one making the thirty-ish minute drive back to where you’re staying, where you checked in only after it’d been decided which towns had been hit the worst, so you could reach all of them easily by truck.

“What’s goin’ on in your head? Hm?”

You turn to look at Tyler and he glances at you from out of the corner of his eye, then at your lap, at the fingernails you’ve picked down to the quick. “Real quiet over there.”

“Nothing,” you reply, your voice barely above a whisper.

“Don’t let Boone get to you,” Tyler says, tapping his right fist on your thigh once, twice, then letting it rest there. You brush your knuckles against his and he opens the fist immediately, taking your hand in his but not squeezing, careful not to put pressure on the blisters on your palms.

“It’s not that,” you start, then realize your mistake, your admission. “I really – I think I’m just tired. It’s been a long week.”

You’re acutely aware of your hand in Tyler’s. It’s not like you’ve ever been shy around him – your cheeks flush at the thought – but this is…different. Sweet. More.

“Yeah, that it has,” he sighs, adjusting his left hand on the steering wheel so he can drive a little more comfortably, but his right hand stays in yours. 

You settle back into silence, Tyler seemingly having dropped the subject, and your eyes return to the road, but you feel him looking over at you, checking on you, every once in a while. You try your hardest not to meet his gaze. 

Soon enough, Tyler is putting the truck in park, then shutting the thing off. The noise – or lack thereof, you guess – wakes Dexter in the back, then Lily, who snorts when she sees your hand in Tyler’s. You pull away and unbuckle your seatbelt, watching as Tyler, with a hurt look on his face, wipes his hand on his jeans and swings himself down and out of the truck.

“C’mon, Boone,” he shouts, slapping a hand on the door that Boone has his head resting against, and the man sits up straight, wiping sleep from his eyes. “The sun hasn’t even gone down yet. Drinks on me, pal!”

The motel really is that close to the bar, so you all decide you’ll leave the truck parked there and walk home at the end of the night. The unspoken verdict is that you will all be getting shitfaced tonight.

The lingering smell of cigarettes in the air seems to rejuvenate everyone and Lily pumps a fist when she spots the old-fashioned jukebox across the room, then claps a hand over her mouth when she realizes there’s a TouchTunes sitting right next to it.

“Oh, I am so forcing you fuckers to listen to Chappell Roan all night,” she says gleefully, and you laugh along with her, looping your arm in hers and letting her pull you across the room while the boys settle in at the bar.

“So what was that all about?”

“What was what all about?” You play dumb, shrugging when Lily gives you a hard look and unhooks her arm from yours.

“Girl, seriously,” Lily scoffs, bumping your hip with hers and slipping a twenty dollar bill into the TouchTunes. Evidently she wasn’t joking when she meant you’d be listening to Chappell Roan all night. “I saw that thing earlier, the hair thing, don’t think I didn’t. And y’all holding hands in the truck. What’s going on there?”

You shake your head but she grabs your wrist. “I’m serious, Lil. Nothing’s going on. We’re friends – good friends. He noticed I was having a hard time today, and wanted to make sure I was alright. That’s all.”

You can tell she doesn’t fully believe you, and when she opens her mouth to object, you cut her off.

“I’m gonna run to the bathroom, okay?”

Lily watches you, trying to read the small line between your eyebrows, but eventually she nods and lets go of you, letting you turn away from her. You push through the door to the women’s restroom, your nose wrinkling at the smell, but you ignore it. Standing in front of the sink, you watch yourself, hands shaking. This isn’t you. You’re better than this at shoving these feelings for Tyler down, way down – or, rather, you had been, up until this week broke you, apparently. Turning the knob for the cold water to the left, you let it run over your sore hands, hissing at the feeling. Carefully, you cup your palms and watch them fill, then splash the water onto your face, soothing the flush. There. That should help.

There’s a cold bottle of Coors in front of the seat next to Dexter when you arrive back to the group, “Red Wine Supernova” playing from the speakers. You almost snort at all the old men – regulars, no doubt – groaning out their distaste for whoever chose the music all across the room.

“Thanks,” you toss over your shoulder at Tyler, sitting on the other side of Dexter and Boone. He nods and nurses his own. You frown and settle onto the stool, leaning an elbow on the bartop so you can turn and face your friends. The cold beer against the palms of your hands feels so nice.

What’s wrong with him? He won’t make eye contact with you, and you notice his jaw clicking as he grits his teeth. What’s got his panties in a twist?

As the night unfolds, you find yourself laughing more and more, loosening up, letting the stress of the last week fade into memory. Someone has produced a deck of cards from God knows where and Dani – who did join the group eventually – is showing off card tricks you didn’t even know they knew. You feel a warmth spreading through your body, and you can’t stop thinking about how much you love all of these people. Your friends. Your family. Empty bottles are swiftly replaced with full, cold ones without notice, and everyone is languid, relaxed, unburdened by the work that you’re all doing.

You take a pull from your drink, using the cover of the bottle to risk a glance to Tyler three seats down from you to find that he’s already watching you, and the look in his eye tells you exactly what he’s thinking. That somersault-y feeling is lower than your stomach now. You’re only three beers deep, but the air in your head reminds you that you’ve barely eaten all day, so you’re a little more affected by the alcohol than you’d usually be. Impolitely, you reach across Dexter next to you to grab a handful of peanuts from the basket to his left.

Glancing back up at Tyler, you meet his heady gaze again, and he smirks around the lip of the bottle against his mouth. He knows he’s got you right where he wants you. You swallow nervously around another sip of beer.

Every once in a while, the two of you will get a little too drunk, stay until last call, sneak back to your motel room, and fuck. Nobody knows – at least you don’t think they do – and you never talk about it when you’re sober. Tyler will generally stay until you fall asleep, but he’s always gone when you get up the next day. Only once has he woken up in bed with you the next morning, and you’ve never made that mistake again. There isn’t a name for what you feel for him, you don’t think, and you can’t tell what he thinks of the arrangement. Clearly he likes it, or he wouldn’t be making eyes at you from across three people’s laps as you pull these peanuts from their shells.

“Alright, y’all,” Lily says, slapping a hand on the bar, startling you out of your thoughts. You watch her, popping a nut into your mouth. “Think I’m gonna head out. I suggest you all do, too, fuckers, it’s late.”

Everyone starts to protest, but one glance at the clock tells you you’ve all stayed much longer than you thought – it’s a quarter past midnight, and you’ve got to be up with the daylight. You balk, but if you want to talk to Tyler tonight, you know you’ve got to shoulder your exhaustion and stick it out a little longer.

“I think I might stay for a bit,” you murmur, watching everyone stand and gather their things. You glance over at Tyler, who you can see clearly now that everyone’s out of their seats, and he’s watching you, too. The look on his face reads plain, now – he wants you.

“I’ll stay with her,” he says, eyes on yours. The green in them has disappeared almost completely, you notice, his pupils blown wide. “Walk her back. Y’all head back if you want.”

“I might stay, too –” Boone’s voice cuts off, coughing as Lily elbows him in the stomach, maybe a little too hard. “What the fuck was that for?”

“You’re going to bed, too, Boone,” Dani interrupts, a hand on his shoulder, guiding him towards the door. They poke him once when he starts to protest. “C’mon, now.”

Everyone shuffles out the front, Dexter calling good night, and all of the sudden, it’s just you and Tyler. You don’t know why, but your palms begin to sweat at the thought of being alone with him again. He stands, palming his drink, and slides onto the seat next to you, his body angled towards yours.

He’s never made you nervous like this. You don’t know what the fuck is wrong with you.

“So,” Tyler starts, grinning at you. “You come here often?”

You snort, emboldened by the booze, and he chuckles in response. “Idiot.”

“God, but I do love making you laugh.”

You blush under his scrutinous gaze, and take a quick swig of the dregs of your drink, unsure what to say to that. He mirrors you, taking a sip of his own while his eyes bore into yours. Accusatory.

“You don’t do it much anymore, you know that?”

“Do what?”

“Laugh.”

You press your fingertips to your mouth and Tyler’s eyes follow your hand. “I guess I just haven’t had much to laugh about lately,” you start, sighing deeply. “Tornado season’s been hard this year, and you know how much that – it gets to me. As much as I love what we do. You know. Remember that family a couple weeks back whose daughter was stuck under her bunk bed when it pressed on her too long, lost her leg below the knee? That got to me, Tyler. It did.”

“It gets to me, too,” he murmurs, knocking his knee against yours. “I guess I’m just better at hiding how bad it affects me. You can talk to me about it, though. You can talk to any of us.”

“I know I can,” you breathe, trying to keep your hands from shaking. “I know. Sometimes I don’t know what to say, though, you know, what is there to say? It’s not fair to complain about how sad it makes me to watch these people lose everything.”

“You’re allowed to feel sad. And to feel frustrated. It’s not fair, you’re right, but we’re doing good work, yeah? Fighting the good fight. Figuring out what makes these things tick, how to warn people when they’re in the path, get them outta the way and safe. Maybe they lose their house, their car, but they won’t lose themselves, or each other. That’s what matters most. Just remember that.”

You look up at him, set your elbow on the bartop, and prop your chin on your open palm. Your hands don’t hurt so bad anymore, you notice. “Thanks, Tyler.”

“Anytime,” he smiles, but you shake your head. 

“Seriously. You always know what to say.”

A look crosses his face then, too quick for you to read, and he sets his drink down, flagging the bartender over to close out the team’s tab. You frown, wondering if you’d, ironically, said the wrong thing.

“What’s up?”

Tyler looks back to you, and this time, the look in his eyes is unmistakable. It burns. “Taking you home, sweetheart.”

The walk back to your motel is done in silence. Tyler’s hand swings next to yours, and you feel it searching for yours more than once, but you don’t take it. You climb the stairs together, slowly, and he walks you to your door. His room is one more floor up.

You can tell he thinks you won’t invite him in, that you’ve changed your mind – or maybe that you never made it up. He hadn’t, after all, told you plainly that that was why he’d stayed with you at the bar. You unlock the room with your key card and step inside, opening the door only far enough for you to fit through it. You turn back to look at him, his face awash in the street lights shining into the hallway. You flip the lightswitch on next to you, illuminating the room behind you, too.

“Well,” he murmurs, making to head back down the stairs. “Good night.”

“Tyler?”

His head turns back to look at you, watching as you hold out one hand and he takes it, letting you pull him closer to you. You press yourself into him, push your whole face against his chest, your hip keeping the door from closing on the two of you. You inhale deeply, the smell of him overtaking your senses. His cologne, yes, but underneath that, the smell of dirt, earth. Home.

You feel his arms wrap around your back and you turn your head to the side, press your ear to his heartbeat. Your hands come up to scratch down his back and you feel it when he shudders.

“Stay?”

You hear his breath hitch in his chest, then the deep rumble of his voice as he says, “Alright, baby.”

With a short inhale, your eyes flutter, nearly closing at the term of endearment. You step back, pulling him with you, and as you close the door behind you, he pushes one hand up into your hair and pulls your head toward his.

“I, uh,” you whisper against his lips when they get close enough to yours, “I think I might shower first, if that’s okay with you?”

“Alright,” he murmurs, unlacing his hand from the strands of your hair before toeing his boots off and carefully setting them under the chair next to the front door. “You want company?”

You swallow. You’ve never done anything like that before. It’s always been quick. When you do this with him, you hardly ever have time for a chat before he’s got your shirt over your head and his mouth on your skin.

“Sure,” you reply. You feel him watch as you turn around and pull your shirt off, reaching back to unclasp your bra. The modesty feels redundant, but you can’t help it.

“Not gettin’ shy on me now, are you? S’not like I haven’t seen you naked before,” he chuckles, and you throw a look at him over your shoulder just as he’s pulling his own shirt over his head. He left his hat at the bar, you think. You’ll have to go back in for it when you pick up the truck.

“Tyler,” you scold, and he laughs at you, steps across the room to wrap an arm around your torso and press a kiss to where your neck meets your shoulder. The place he knows makes you melt. You sigh and push back against him, the feeling of his hard chest against your bare back a welcome one. This feels more like what you know, what you’re used to.

“Shower,” you remind him, and he nods, his forehead pressed into that spot now, and he pushes his fingers underneath the waistband of your jeans, running them along the bit of skin there around to the front, where the fabric splits at the button. He pops it undone, then uses his thumb and forefinger to grip the zipper and slowly – so slowly – pulls that down. He can’t help himself, you know that, and so you hold your breath and wait for him to push his hand into your panties. Ever a predictable man, he does just that, and you gasp at the feeling of his warm hand against you.

“Are you sure?” Tyler’s breath against your neck makes you shiver, and you press your ear to the side of his chin. He runs his fingers along the seam of you, finding first your clit, your legs twitching at the sudden rush of pleasure when he brushes his hand against it, then pushing down to find you wet and wanting. You cry out softly. “You don’t sound sure. You don’t feel sure.”

You hum, your neck stretching back until your head is pressed to his chest, and he pulls his hand back up to start working small circles on your clit, your wetness on his fingers allowing for smooth movement, with just enough friction to have you panting for more. 

“Sounds more to me like you kinda want me to fuck you with my fingers.”

“Tyler,” you whimper, telling him with just his name that you are getting close. He smiles against the side of your neck, pulling his hand away and shoving your jeans and underwear down just enough that his hand has room to smack your clit lightly. You squeal, right leg kicking out at the feeling, and he continues moving his hand in circles to soothe the hurt.

Your breath is coming out of you in short huffs, and before you can come, Tyler takes his hand off of you and wraps it around your stomach to join the other. You pant and whine, rubbing your thighs together to chase the feeling he’d had you practically pressed up against, now ebbing with the loss of his fingers.

“You said you wanted to shower,” he whispers in your ear, pulling your panties back up, and you scowl, pushing away from him. He laughs and holds his hands up in defense as you pick your t-shirt up off your bed and crack it at him like a whip. “Let’s shower, baby.”

“I might kick you out right now, Owens,” you snark, but the small smile on your face gives you away, and Tyler unbuttons his own jeans, leaving them in a pile on the floor at the end of the bed. Your jeans join his, and you’re both left in your underwear.

“You wouldn’t,” he replies, pulling his briefs off slowly, biting his bottom lip as you watch him. “You like this cock too much.”

You can’t help laughing at him, but the sight of him bare in front of you does have you biting your lip. You step forward to cup his growing length in your hand. Before you can move it, Tyler puts a hand on your wrist.

“How’s your hand?” He makes to pull it away, presumably to turn it over and appraise your blisters, but you shake your head.

“S’fine,” you whisper, tightening your grip. You tug once, twice, and press a kiss to his bare chest, then tip your head back to search out his lips. He leans down to oblige you, his lips parting against your mouth as you twist your fist. You love these moments you share with him, when you’re both bare, physically, emotionally, away from the real world, and you can pretend this is an everyday thing. When you’re not trying to tell yourself you feel nothing for him. Like this is just how it is between you.

Tyler groans when you pull your hand away from him and you click your tongue, press that same hand against his bicep.

“Doesn’t feel so good, now does it?”

Before you even know what’s happening, Tyler is picking you up, one arm underneath your back and the other around the backs of your knees. You look up at his face and laugh. “Put me down, Owens!”

He grins and carries you the few paces into the bathroom, placing you on your feet in front of the tub. Tyler leans down and pushes his thumbs underneath the waistband of your panties, waiting for you to put your hands on his shoulders and step out of them.

He lets you pull away from him to turn the hot water on, adjusting the cold side until the temperature is perfect, before pulling you against his chest once again. This time, you can feel his hard cock pressed against your backside, and you hum appraisingly. You reach behind you to fist him again, but he shakes his head – you feel his chin brush against the top of your head – and he groans out, “Mm-mm.”

“What?”

“We’re gonna shower, baby, c’mon.”

You glance back towards him and watch as he flicks the overhead light on. “So we don’t slip and die,” he says, and you laugh, pushing the shower curtain to the side. Holding Tyler’s hand, you step over the lip of the tub and under the steady stream of warm water, inhaling deeply when it hits the sore muscles in your shoulders and back. Tyler groans at the feeling, too, when he steps in behind you.

“Here, switch with me,” he murmurs, guiding you by your waist until you’re the one underneath the water. You let it fall onto the top of your head, over your face and down the back of your hair, for a moment, eyes closed, relishing the feeling. Tyler reaches both hands up and brushes the water out of your eyes, runs his hand over the top of your head. 

“Shampoo?”

You open one eye, the other shut against the water, and nod. You gaze up at him, heart squeezing at the way he’s watching you. His smile widens and he takes the tiny bottle in his hand – it looks even more comically small now – and dumps the product into his other palm, setting the bottle down onto the edge of the tub and rubbing his hands together.

“Turn around.”

You do as he asks, inhaling sharply through your nose when you feel his hands run through the hair at the crown of your head. Your stomach aches with longing as you register how unnaturally intimate this is. His fingers feel so good against your scalp, which is slightly sunburnt, you’re now realizing. He massages the shampoo further into your hair, running his fingers down the back of your neck and across the tops of your shoulders. When he’s satisfied with his shampoo job, he steers you by your arms to face him again, then carefully helps you tilt your head back and rinses it all from your hair.

You watch him pick up the other small bottle from the shelf, warm water still running down the back of your head. 

“I’ll do my conditioner,” you murmur, taking the bottle gently from his hands. “It’s a – it’s a science.”

“I am very good at science, if you can recall.”

You laugh, shaking your head. “It’s something I’ve gotten perfectly right. It’ll take just a sec.”

So you work the conditioner through the ends of your hair, avoiding his gaze as he watches your hands first coat your hair in the product, then rinse it out. He reaches forward to run his own fingers across it, as gently as he can.

“Hm,” he makes the noise in the back of his throat, pulling his hand away. “Soft.”

You can hardly look at him, the twisting feeling in your stomach shifting to something warmer, something further from apprehension, something that feels a lot like want. “You?”

Tyler shakes his head. “I’m good. Here,” he says, rubbing his hands across the plane of your upper back. “You’re tense. You worked hard today. Let me help.”

You weren’t going to protest, but before you can, Tyler guides you forward and out of the direct spray of the shower, then presses his thumbs into your muscle. You groan, your head falling forward onto his chest at the feeling, and he chuckles at you, continuing with his hands. “Feel good?”

“So good,” you whimper, and you feel his cock twitch against your stomach.

“You fucking dog,” you joke, and Tyler laughs against you, pushing your hair off the back of your neck and pressing his thumbs in there, too.

“Hey, what can I say? I like making my girl feel good.”

You freeze. His girl? His girl. He hasn’t noticed your reaction, and he keeps pressing his fingers into your sore muscles, pulling one hand away briefly to push the showerhead down and away from the two of you. You glance up, already missing its warmth, but you find that the steam rising around you is doing a good enough job at that.

“Here, baby,” he murmurs, pressing a kiss to your forehead and guiding you to press your hands against the tiled wall to your left, running his hands down your back.

“What are you –”

Before you can finish the thought, you feel Tyler’s fingers parting the seam of your cunt from – from behind, and you groan at the feeling of his middle finger slipping inside of you.

“That’s it, sweetheart,” he groans, his knees hitting the floor behind you. You toss a glance at him over your shoulder and your own knees nearly buckle at the way he’s looking up at you – with hunger, and with reverence, and with something else entirely unrecognizable. He looks wild. He looks in love.

One of Tyler’s hands clamps down around your hips and he leans forward, pressing a kiss to the back of your thigh as his finger starts to shift in and out of you. You shiver and push your face into the cool tile, groaning softly when he finds that rough bit of flesh inside of you, the one that makes you come undone if he works it long enough.

“Yeah?” Tyler sounds fucked out already, his voice breathy against your skin, and you can picture the look on his face, the concentrated expression he gets when he’s trying to make you come. You try to focus on the feeling of the shower’s spray where it hits the edge of your foot rather than how good his finger feels inside you because if you think too closely about how good it feels, you’ll get lightheaded. And nobody wants that.

“Yeah,” you reply weakly, and for a few minutes it’s just like that, the only sound in the bathroom the shower, your panting moans, and the noise your pussy makes as he pulls his finger in and out.

“Sound so good for me, baby,” he says, pressing a kiss to the back of your thigh again, and you whine, trying to protest when he slips his finger from you. He laughs deep in his chest and lightly smacks the swell of your ass.

“Don’t complain when I’m doin’ somethin’ nice for you,” he jok, and you can feel then that he’s shifting himself around. You want to look over your shoulder, want to see for yourself what he’s doing, but freeze when you feel his palms cupping your ass, his nose pressing against the inside of your thighs.

Your mouth forms the word oh, but no sound comes out until you feel his mouth press against your cunt, tongue pushing inside of you, and then you cry out, chest heaving, when he presses a sloppy, wet kiss to your clit. You pull your face from where it’s still resting against the tile and look down at Tyler to find he’s already looking right up at you. His grip on your ass tightens when you make eye contact with him, and he spreads you open wider for him, eyes narrowing as his tongue flicks again, and again, and again.

“That’s it, sweetheart,” he moans against you, the vibrations causing your legs to twitch. You already thought you were going to burst, the steam from the shower, the way he’d washed your hair, the fact that he was in your room at all – it all made you feel slightly insane. To add insult to injury, he’s just pushed two fingers inside of you and immediately found the spot that takes you out, and you start to shake a little.

“Tyler,” you whine, pushing one hand down to grip his hair. He groans when you tighten your hold on it, fucking into you a little faster. “Tyler, fuck, gonna come.”

“So come, baby,” comes his reply, and you do, you come so hard that the toes on your right foot curl until you’re on tiptoe and Tyler has to reach up and grip your waist to steady you. You feel it crest, and peak, then subside, but he keeps working you through it, his mouth moving against you still, and a second, smaller – though still good – orgasm wracks your body right after the first.

You breathe through it, push your foot down so you’re standing flat on the surface of the tub again, and wait for Tyler to pull his fingers out of you. 

“Baby,” Tyler groans, squeezing your hips, his fingernails biting slightly into your skin. “You gotta let go’a me, if you want me to get up.”

His voice, fuck, his voice, you think, releasing your grip on his hair and turning to watch him rise from his knees, the tile cold against your back. You surge forward to kiss him square on the mouth and he catches you, smiles against you when you part your lips to taste yourself on his tongue.

“Was that good?”

“Yeah,” you breathe, pressing one, two, three more quick kisses to his mouth, before he reaches behind you to turn off the water. “So fucking good.”

Neither of you bother with a towel, instead opting to stumble toward the queen bed in the middle of the room and climb right underneath the covers.

“Hi,” you whisper when you’re settled in, the duvet pulled up under your chin. Your eyes rove over his face, then glance over to the alarm clock behind him. 1:56 in the morning. “You still wanna fuck?”

Tyler snorts, reaching over to poke you in the side, gripping the skin there until you start to laugh. “You still wanna fuck?”

“Yeah,” you reply, grinning, when you catch your breath. “Wanna?”

He’s quiet for a second, watching the duvet rise and fall with each breath you take, before he peels it off of you, using his elbow to push himself up until he’s leaning over you. There’s a rosy flush on your chest, your breasts heaving and it’s all he can do not to lean down and take one of your nipples in his mouth, the one closest to him. Instead, he runs the back of his other hand across your chest, catching against the hard peak, and watches your breath stick to the inside of your throat. You feel yourself subconsciously leaning toward him as his face comes toward you. You want him to kiss you, but instead, he angles his mouth to kiss the skin below your chin.

“You’re so beautiful,” he breathes against your neck, pressing his open mouth to you there, and you gasp at the feeling – of his mouth against you, and of his praise. It all feels so nice. He just made you come in the shower, and now he’s going to make you come in this bed, hopefully more than once. 

You wrap your hands around his back and pull him toward you, watch as he settles in between your thighs. You can feel his thick cock, heavy, insistent, where it presses against you, and you want to take him into your hands, but he has other plans. 

With one hand pressed into the pillow on either side of your head, Tyler uses his knees to knock your legs out further, sitting back against his heels when he’s satisfied. He wraps his big hands around your thighs and pulls you closer, smiling down at you. “You’re so beautiful.”

You blush when he repeats himself, suddenly feeling very bare. He’s just as naked as you are, but you can’t help but feel like he’s seen your whole hand, meanwhile you hardly have any idea what cards he might hold. In the dim light from the lamp beside your head, you notice that you can see the green of his irises again. It seems like the shower sobered the two of you up very quickly.

His gaze locked on yours, Tyler takes himself into his hand, groaning at the pressure of his grip after neglecting his own want for so long, but he suddenly curses, pausing just as he’s about to press inside of you.

“What?”

“I don’t have a condom,” he breathes, sitting back again. He runs one hand through his hair, visibly weighing the options.

“It’s okay, Tyler,” you murmur, leaning up onto your elbows. “It’s okay. I have an IUD, and I got screened after the last time I was with someone. I’m good. I’m good if you’re good.”

Tyler heaves a heavy sigh, running his hands up your thighs. “You’re sure? I’m clean, too, cross my heart. But only if you’re sure.”

You nod. “My head is clear. I think I shook off my drunk an orgasm or two ago.”

A grin crosses his face, and you roll your eyes at him before he even opens his mouth. Two? he mouths, then whistles lowly. You smack his stomach, and he grabs your wrist in his hand, lightning quick, pressing a kiss to the pulse point there. Your jaw falls slack, and you go all soft and pliant, letting him pin your hands above your head. His body comes down over yours, and his mouth presses to your cheek, then your forehead, and when your eyes flutter shut, the ghost of a kiss crosses them, too.

“I’m gonna fuck you so good,” he murmurs, and normally if a man were to say that to you, you would immediately regret letting him into your bed. But for some reason, when Tyler says it, it sends that familiar warmth spiraling down into your gut. You know he means it.

Slowly – too slowly – he guides himself back to your entrance, shifting his hips so they’re resting comfortably against yours, and he presses himself inside of you. You hiss; the girth of him, although a welcome stretch, is also a bit of an uncomfortable one. He leans down to kiss you, working you through it with a thumb pressing circles into your clit, sliding himself in bit by bit until he’s fully seated. 

A groan pushes out of him when you clench around him, testing the waters.

“Careful,” he murmurs, easing his hips back. “I’d like it if this lasted longer than ten seconds, please.”

You laugh against the side of his head, pull your hands down from where he’d left them above you and wrap yourself around his shoulders, pulling him flush against you. Tyler grips your thighs and starts to work himself in and out of you, carefully, gently, but you squeeze his waist with your knees. Encouraging him. Asking him to pick it up. You can handle it.

His hips start to pull back and snap against yours quicker and quicker, Tyler panting in your ear, lifting up onto his palms and pushing himself off of you. He sits up onto his knees and tilts your hips up for a different angle, one that sets sparks dancing in front of your eyes. You groan, head tossed back, and dig your nails into his thighs as his pace picks up.

“Fuck, yeah, that it, baby? I can feel you – fuck, feel you squeezin’ me.”

You hardly have a voice with the rate he’s slipping in and out of you, barely enough to squeak out, “Fuck,” before your cunt has him in a vice grip, working through another orgasm.

“Ohhh, that’s it, huh, that’s it.” His mouth is going a mile a minute, neither of you really paying much attention to anything he’s actually saying. You’re both focused on his own mounting orgasm – you don’t feel like your body is capable of much more than that – and you weakly clamp down around him once more. His eyes squeeze shut, his hips stutter, and he grits out, “Fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck fuck,” before he slots against you and you feel him filling you. You run a hand down his back, soothing him as he comes, biting your lip at the feeling, foreign but enjoyable.

Tyler groans and glances down to where his cock is softening inside of you. He eases his hips back, cupping your face and pressing a kiss to your forehead as he does. “Shit, I’m sorry, are you okay?”

You nod meagerly, pressing the back of your hand against your warm cheek. He watches you and, assured that you’re not going to pass out on him or anything, stands and hobbles into the bathroom. The sink turns on out of sight, and you close your eyes, listening to the water run. Tyler returns with a warm, wet towel and wipes the inside of your thighs, swiping gently across your cunt, before folding the towel and letting it fall to the floor at your bedside.

You feel loose, calm. Safe. You hardly notice him turn the light off, but you do feel the bed dip beside you as he rejoins you under the covers and pulls you into his arms. You melt against his sturdy chest, his heartbeat under your face a comfort, the rhythmic tick tick tick of it lulling you to sleep. But there’s still one thing you have to know before you can relax completely.

His breathing has started to even out, but he hasn’t snored yet, so you know he’ll still hear you when you ask, “Are you gonna leave?”

He grunts an acknowledgement of your question, nuzzling down into the top of your head.

“Do you want me to stay?”

You know your answer, but you still bite your lip, considering the question. You hadn’t thought before that maybe he left after every night you spent together because he thought you didn’t want to wake up with him. “Yes.”

“Okay,” he murmurs against your hair, pressing a kiss to your temple. “Then I’ll stay.”

If he’s at all worried about what will happen when you wake up tomorrow, he doesn’t show it, but anxiety courses through you at the thought of anyone finding out. Does he want the others to know? Because that’s what it feels like.

“Stop thinking about it,” he whispers, like he can hear your thoughts racing. “It’ll be fine. Just go to sleep.”

Easy for him to say. He’s out like a light. And you’re left alone with your thoughts until you fall into fitful, dissatisfying sleep sometime around when the world outside starts to turn blue.

A pounding on your door wakes you from deep sleep – the deepest you’d gotten all night, at least – and you try to sit up but find there’s a heavy weight on your chest blocking you. You rub the sleep from your eyes, glancing down at the sleeping body next to you. It takes a second for it to register: Tyler’s here. 

Tyler’s here. Sidled up against you, arm thrown over your stomach like this is where he belongs. He didn’t leave. He stayed, like he said he would. His face looks so peaceful – so beautiful – you almost hate to wake him.

“Come on, sleepyhead! Time to get a move on!”

Almost. You scramble to push Tyler off of you, ignoring his noises of protest, jumping out from under the covers and grabbing various articles of clothing off the floor to pull over your naked form. You plop back down on the bed, this time on his side, right next to where he’s starting to wake.

“Dude, get up, they’re gonna know you’re not in your room. They’re gonna know you’re in here.”

“So what,” he grumbles, rolling over as you push him and settling deeper into the bed. “Let ‘em.”

You sit up straight, one hand on his arm. “You mean that?”

He hums and turns his neck to glance at you over his shoulder. “Yeah, ‘course I do. You’re my girl.”

Your face flushes a deep pink and Tyler grins, reaching over to wrap an arm around you and drag you back down into the bed, pinning you under him and peppering an assault of open-mouthed kisses all over your face. You grin, thinking that you could get used to this – just not right now.

“Seriously, Tyler,” you laugh, pushing a hand against the side of his face. He squeezes your hip. “We have to get up. We gotta get back out there.”

Tyler sighs, loosening his grip on your body and kneeling over you. “Yeah, you’re right. Alright, alright.”

He stands and takes the top sheet with him, wrapped around his waist, and heads to the bathroom. To brush his teeth, you hope. God.

“You know,” he says, head popping back out into the room, mouth full of toothpaste. “Yesterday. I wanted them to see us holding hands.”

You watch as he smiles at you and disappears back into the bathroom, then fall back onto the bed, hands pressed over your eyes. 

Fifteen minutes later, the two of you are dressed, teeth brushed, hair taken care of, day packs slung over your shoulder, and you’re pulling the door closed behind you when you hear a whistle that pulls your attention to the parking lot.

“Damn, Owens!”

The voice makes you jump, and you groan. You thought you were going to get away with the sneaking around, but the rest of your team is watching from next to the RV as the two of you descend the stairs together.

Lily and Dani turn to Boone with smug looks on both their faces, and he rolls his eyes and pulls his wallet from his back pocket. They hold their hands out for him to slap two twenty dollar bills down into.

“What’s that?” You ask when you get close enough to them.

“We had a bet that you and Owens would come out of that room together. Well, that one or his. Didn’t matter which.”

“A bet I just lost,” Boone groans, pressing the heels of his palms into his eyes. “I thought for sure…”

The rest of the crew snickers, including Tyler, who won’t look at you. You poke a finger into his chest.

“Did you know about this?”

“No, I swear,” he says, hands up, and you don’t know why, but you believe him. “That doesn’t mean I didn’t drunkenly confess to Lily weeks ago that sometimes we, you know…”

You scoff, almost mad, but then Boone shouts and the scoff turns into a snicker because, hey, you love him, but you can’t help but relish in his defeat.

“So they knew?! That’s cheating!”

He storms off while the rest of you laugh, Dani clutching their side and following him around the side of the building to try to make amends, trailing off, “If it makes you feel any better…”

Lily looks over at you, then at Tyler, a grin swallowing her face. “So, are you guys, like, together now? Or something?”

You look up at Tyler, who’s smiling softly at you, clearly deferring to you to answer that question. You feel a surge of affection for him swell in your chest. Clearing your throat, you turn to Lily.

“Or something.”

[the-cimmerians]

It's 2024. I have been participating in fandom for 40 years. This is a ramble commemorating some history I've experienced along the way.

In 1984, I attended my first convention, and made a beeline for the one long row of covered tables in the Dealer's Room that was, according to the whispered lore of my friends, 'the one'. "um", I said, very suavely and coherently, except for how it was totally the opposite of those things, "I'm here for the... for the, uh. For-"

"Come around here," the man behind the table said with exhausted ennui, so I went around, and he lifted up the table skirt next to him and pointed to rows and rows of boxes underneath the line of tables. "It's all under here."

It was all under there. Along with about five older ladies with glasses, graying hair, cardigans. Flipping through slash zines and chatting in whispered voices like old friends (which of course they were). I noticed one of them had the good sense to be wearing kneepads. I was still too young and ablebodied to need kneepads when crawling on a carpeted floor, but I immediately found her preparedness skills to be both impressive and hot. "You're new," one of the ladies whispered to me--a bit warily, which made sense. "Are you sure you're in the right place?"

In the faint light (the kneepads lady had also come prepared with a flashlight, additional practicality hotness points for her) I grabbed a comb-bound book with a heavy line art piece on the cover, featuring a musclebound Captain Kirk getting righteously and enthusiastically plowed by a stern-yet-ebullient Spock. "This," I said, pointing helpfully at the cover, like I was trying to make myself understood in a language I had only the vaguest knowledge of. "I'm here for this."

Outside at the convention, most of the attendees were wearing large homemade circular pins that shrieked 'K/S is BS!!!'1. But underneath the table, we reveled in the forbidden.

***

In 1985, I fell very hard for Starsky & Hutch fandom. Which was simply referred to at the time as 'the other fandom', because there were only two. We were upstarts. Many fannish elders predicted that it was just a phase.

***

The 'circulating library' was a massive stack of barely-legible pages that smelled strongly of mimeograph ink. When you were on the list, you would write stories while you waited for your turn, and when the big box was mailed to you, you would read everything (new finds, old favorites), add your own sloppily-typed or hastily-mimeographed stories, and then mail the whole thing to the next person. For me, at the time, it was an extremely expensive indulgence--but my favorite one.

***

By 1990, slash fandom had grown enough that I no longer knew everyone in it, which was both thrilling and a bit daunting. A young woman at a convention waited for me after a panel I was part of (I think it was 'writing impactful smut' or something like that), and said she had a question she didn't want to ask in a group setting. I'd heard that before. I said that's fine, go ahead and ask; and she came out with: "Why do you have to be gay?"

I blinked. "Is... that a problem?"

She looked annoyed. "Yes, because your stories are on all the recommendation lists and in all the top zines, but if you're gay and I read something you wrote and I get hot from it that makes me gay, and I'm not gay."

"Wow." I grinned, I couldn't help it. It probably made me look very predatory-dyke-about-to-score-a-toaster. Whatever, it was enough to make her back away from me fast.

When I thought about it later that night, I wondered what it would be like not to be the only queer person in slash fandom.

***

By 1997, slash started appearing on the internet. Many fannish elders claimed it was the death knell of slash fandom, or dismissed it as 'just a phase'.

***

Anyway, I wrote all this for myself as a commemoration of sorts, but if you took the time to read it--thank you. Love you, fandom. I always will.

1 In those days, m/m fandom was known as 'slash', which grew from the fannish shorthand where 'K&S' meant a story of Kirk and Spock having adventures or tribulations or what have you, and 'K/S' meant a story of Kirk and Spock getting it on (Kirk divided by Spock or Spock into Kirk--it was mathy fannish humor and I was into it then and I still am now). Slash was decidedly unpopular in the fannish world in 1984, and there was a concerted effort to force slash authors, artists, and fans out of 'mainstream' fannish public life. Hence, under the table.

[cheer-nympho]

Steve was always being brushed off when he asked people to read things aloud for him,

In middle school his assigned partner for their ‘Frankenstein’ project gave him a scornful glare and ignored him when he had asked them to read the passages aloud.

In his sophomore year, he’d turned to ask Robin Buckley to read a old newspaper article about the ‘Wild West’ to him, because he couldn’t make it out through the fonts and weird words. She had fixed him with a cold look but before she could respond, Tammy was tapping his shoulder offering her help.

Then, while studying with Nancy and Barb at lunch, Steve had asked for help reading study cards. His own study cards. The paper was too bright and the squiggles too squiggly. Both of them had looked at him, them each other, clearly trying to decide if it was a joke.

Barb had scoffed under Nancys pointed look and gone back to her own notes. And while Nancy hadn’t read them out for him, she had handed him her own notes on some nice blue and yellow cards. It took him a while, but he could read them. Maybe she thought he hadn’t wrote any.

After that, he went a long time without asking anyone to read him things. Turns out that once you graduate, reading isn’t much of an issue. He’d gotten by just fine by looking at his Archie comics and ignoring the swirling lines of articles surrounding them.

He didn’t need to ask again until Scoops Ahoy. For a cheap, overly themed ice cream parlour there sure was a whole lot of memorising and reading to be done. He couldn’t see the charts properly, couldn’t really make out the dates on the tubs in the freezer. But every time he asked Robin for help, her frown would deepen and deepen until she just snapped. It hadn’t been that mean, really. Just an annoyed yell followed by accusations of being lazy, her not understanding how he managed to graduate, one last comment of him being a ‘bumbling idiot’.

After the Russians, she never said anything like that to him again. And she always did the inventory and lists for him.

It takes until summer, 1987, for anyone to read aloud to Steve. They were laying across Eddie’s new bed in comfortable silence.

Steve had his legs dangling off the edges as Eddie leant back against him, legs pointing up against the wall in a way he swore was actually comfortable. He had been reading a new book called “Spellfire” and he couldn’t seem to put it down.

“Eddie?”

“Hm?”

“What’s your book about?”

“This? Well I…Not sure it’s really your thing, man.”

“Maybe.” He goes back to reading. “I could see if it’s my thing?”

Eddie twists his head sideways to look up at Steve with a slightly confused face. “You wanna borrow it?”

“Was thinking you could read it.” He fiddled with the pocket of his jeans in a hopefully casual and not freaking out way. He didn’t look at Eddie as he waited, but after a few moments he responded.

“Sure. That’s fine, yeah. Want me to start over or go from here?”

“From there is good.”

And it was good, it was really really good. Steve hadn’t been able to read a book since middle school, hadn’t really tried again after that. But as he lay back and let Eddie’s voice wash over him he couldn’t help feeling that he’d been missing out.

Sure, it actually wasn’t really his thing, but the way Eddie read aloud painted such a clear picture that Steve enjoyed it anyway. The other would change his voice slightly for different characters and added emotions into his speaking. If it was a tense moment, he’d go slow and add gaps in just the right places. If it was fast paced he’d speed up and get more and more manic until the action cut off. He felt like he was reading along. Felt like he could see the pages in the book, but also the characters and the dungeon they were combining through.

So, for the first time Steve hadn’t been brushed off. He had probably found the only person he knew who could turn reading a book into a performance. One he would happily be seated for every night.

From then on, new books turned up at the trailer every week, Steve not far behind.

[heyitsoak]

MOVIE SHADOW X READER HEADCANONS

Gender neutral reader

Just finished watching Sonic 3 and it was awesome!! Haven’t seen anyone written for movie Shadow yet sooo.. 👀

Warnings?: No spoilers for the movie in this! But maybe him being out of character, I haven’t wrote anything in years lol

- I feel like his love languages would be quality time and physical touch, he wouldn’t be used to touch at first but would gradually warm up to it. Definitely wouldn’t be the type to be over the top with public affection. Maybe handholding or a hand on your waist in public, but that’s probably it

- Might would be one to get jealous, needs reassurance that you’re not leaving and that you love him, truly. He’s been through a lot and needs to know that you’re not leaving him too

- Likes looking at the stars with you!! Reminds me of that one meme

“Do u like stars?”

“Ya, they’re cool”

- Likes to watch moves with you too! Just please don’t have him watch movies that have ‘aliens’ that are considered bad guys in it :( Just watch cat videos on YouTube with him, he’d be content with that

- Try and show him video games! He’d be really confused on how the controls work, a lot has changed in fifty years

- I feel like he’d like the game Stray, cause cats!! I feel like he absolutely loves cats. Would also probably like Stardew Valley, Harvest Moon and Animal Crossing. Anything that’s a calm game where you can just do whatever

- Speaking of cats.. he’d love going to a cat cafe with his s/o, would probably want to take them all home afterwards though

- Would end up having a black cat come up to him, rubbing against him and purring. He’d just pick up the cat and ask

“..can we take him home?”

- You can’t say no to Shadow, especially when he’s holding a cat in his hands.. so needless to say, you guys have a new pet now

- But besides cafe dates, just staying at home and cuddling would be perfectly fine with him as a date, anywhere with you, he’s happy

- I feel like he’d genuinely be a really good boyfriend, just takes him time to warm up a bit and get more comfortable with romantic stuff

- And motorcycle rides!! They’d be so fun, but if you get scared if he ever goes too fast, just ask for him to slow down or go a normal speed, he’d probably listen (cause it’s you)

- Gets all blushy and flustered when it comes to physical affection and kisses, he’s not used to it but he loves it

- He’d also like music, specifically older songs. Likes to put vinyls on a record player and dance with you to the song :’)) even if you don’t know how to dance, he’ll try and guide you

Not really sure what else to add here! Hopefully this was good, sorry if it was out of character :’)

I absolutely love Shadow so much, he’s such a cool character and looked so amazing in the movie

[thespacebetweenworlds]

It's hard to imagine that someone who later turns to the dark side, to child murder, genocide and fascism, was - or is - what is considered a "normal person." One who tries, with dreams and feelings, and who is overall not very different from other people in his life, in the galaxy. It's difficult to accept that evil people aren't always only very evil, that sometimes you cannot foresee. It's easier to imagine a character like Anakin as someone who had been disrespectful of cultural ideas, religion and authority, as someone who had no intention to ever grow as a person and be honest about his fears. Someone who you can make into a 2 dimensional charismatic laugh, if necessary.

There is something really weird to me about how AOTC portrayed nineteen-year-old Anakin as much more docile and calm to the Jedi Council than he was to Obi-Wan and someone who meditated when he was troubled and who genuinely tried to discuss his nightmares with Obi-Wan, but fandom would have you believe he resists mediating at all costs, refusing to ever even hint at his feelings, and someone who’d skateboard into a Jedi Council meeting thirty minutes late wearing a backwards hat with a boom box blasting heavy metal on his shoulder.

I just notice these things, is all.

[darnell-la]

Wolverine forcing you to squirt for the first time?? Pretty please?

note: if you’d like an older Wolverine, you can request again. we wrote this one too fast and made it the younger Wolverine. it’s still hot!

follow our Instagram @ darnell.la so we can start posting random videos, photos, edits, and memes of the people we write about!

———

“Can’t tell me you’ve never squirted before and expect me to move on with life,” Logan said after placing you on the bathroom counter he had dragged you to during a drinking game.

The party was loud and you could still hear people playing Truth or Shot. After one of the girls asked if a man had made you squirt, and you answered that you hadn’t even done such a thing, Logan knew he had to do something about it.

He had made an excuse, asking if you could come fill up his cup with him. Of course, you came with him. He was a good friend, but you didn’t know he’d throw his cup away and drag you to the nearest bathroom.

“L-Logan -- Calm down,” Y/n gasped as his teeth sunk into her neck. “Ah uh,” he crowled, needing to give her what she deserved. “Can smell you, baby -- Can’t just leave you like this,” the man’s hands ripped at her panties after he pulled her dress up.

The young girl let out a low and shaky moan as his finger pushed inside of her. His eyes glued right on her face, watching her fall apart on his fingers in an instant.

“C’mon, baby, give it to me,” he growled, as he turned and twisted his finger in and out of her. “Too much,” she said whined as her hands fell on his shoulder. “Fuck, there’s no way,”

Logan couldn’t believe it, It seemed like she was a virgin. There’s no way one finger would make her get like this.

“Don’t lie to me, baby — Just tell me another man’s made you cum,” Logan wanted to know, but he knew the answer already. His eyes still locked onto hers, as her eyes drifted away every few seconds. She felt high, but she hadn’t smoked or drank tonight.

“N-No one has, Logan,” y/n took a while to admit, but thankfully for him, she got it out. The young girl's mind was going crazy. Logan hadn't ever shown a lick of affection towards her, yet now he was worried about whether a man had touched her?

She was confused, but he wasn’t. The thought of another man making her squirt first was unacceptable to him. He couldn’t let that happen.

Logan let his ego get the best of him, but so what? He was going to make her squirt tonight, tomorrow, the day after, and then the days after that. He was going to be the first and then last.

“I know you can take another,” the man said as he pulled out, instantly pushing two in next. “Logan!” The girl moaned at the burning feeling of her walls stretching. She was wet, but she still had to get used to the new and unfamiliar feeling.

“Fuck, yes, baby,” Logan couldn’t get over her. She looked so damn pretty. He wished he had done this months ago. He’ll gain those days back. He’ll spend every day licking at her cunt until she drowns him.

“P-P-Please,” y/n stuttered hard, trying to close her legs, but the man used his free hand to push them back open. He gripped her tightly. She wasn't going to stop him. He needed this.

“Keep your fuckin’ legs open, or I’ll fuck this cunt dumb,” the man threatened, wanting nothing to get in the way of feeling her drench his fingers. She has already coated them with slightly white and clear liquid. She never knew a man would like how much she leaked.

“Logan,” the girl gripped his shoulders tighter with a sob, feeling the knot in her stomach getting harder to control. She was embarrassed, but he wanted all over her whether she wanted to give it to him or not.

“Be a good girl — Make a mess, and I’ll clean that shit right up,” the man told no lie as his two fingers curled. Within seconds, y/n’s mouth parted as her head leaned back. Her eyes crossed as she felt her legs go stiff and her toes curled.

“Augh,” she let out a choked cry as she released on the man’s fingers. “Oh, that’s it, baby — That’s it!” The man finger fucked her cunt a bit harder to get every last drop out of her.

“P-Please,” the girl pushed at his wrists, needing a break, but he wouldn't stop. She gave up after a while and decided to pull the man into a tight hug as she struggled to breathe.

Y/n was still leaking down his hand. She couldn’t stop. He had made the girl go on for almost an hour until she passed out on his chest. breathing lightly from the exhaustion.

Logan couldn’t help but chuckle, knowing he had the girl dumb and cute, all for him. She was his. She marked him, and later when he sweet talks her into taking him as hers, he'll mark her.

[mayasaurusss]

hey how are you? could you write jinx x reader? something like jinx taking the reader's virginity. thanks ❤️🫰🏻

My favorite piltie

A/N: Hello! I am okay anon, thanks for asking! Just a bit sad that tomorrow Arcane will end😭.

I want to make it clear that I tried to do this before the next act drops, so I wrote it in two days and some things might not be very good, but I hope you will enojiy it nonetheless!!

Contains: female reader, detailed description of a wound, smut. All characters are 20+ years.

2,8 K/4 pages

When Jinx came knocking at your door tonight, you didn't think you'd end up in this position: her hands gripping at the skin of your chest and with her head buried in it.

The beginning of your night had kicked off with a strange twist when you heard a knock on your fifth floor appartment's window. You gulped down your fear and with a fast beating heart, looked past the window's glass to see a crouching figure with bright pink eyes staring at you. Any other occasion and you would have died on the spot, but you knew who she was. As soon as you opened the window, the figure let herself in, crawling out of the darkness and into the light of your room. "You are so nice letting me in, piltie" she said, and you don't miss the venom laced in the last word she spoke. "Your people aren't really known to be kind" her long fingers mess with the many little trinkets displayed on your shelves, checking their mechanisms and turning their gears.

"What do you want, Jinx?" you can feel a tingling sense of anger inside your skull at her continuous teasings.

You still remember the first time you had seen her, running from enforcers and covering her wounded shoulder.

You knew how ruthless they could be, especially since Miss Kirramman had taken control over the city. In a strange turn of events, you had found her curled up in one of Piltover's abandoned alleys and brought her with you to your home, taking care of her for the next few days until you found your window open and the blue haired criminal nowhere to be seen. During that time, you grew fond of her and were sad when she disappeared. Some weeks had passed and your life continued to flow normally, until she showed up at your door again. You were actually kind of amazed by the fact that she managed to sneak inside the appartment's building without being noticed, but after the third time, when someone called the enforcers on her, she had begun to climb on the building's exterior and knock at your window instead.

"Oh nothing, just wanted to pay a visit to my favorite piltie" she falls back on your bed, sizing you up from head to toe with that smirk of hers that makes your heart beat faster. "That's all?" the mattress dips under your weight as you sit next to her, always keeping your eyes on hers. "Mhmm, maybe" she fishes something from a bag -one you've just noticed- and shakes it: a small glass globe filled with water and fake flakes of snow. The tallest buildings of Piltover reflect the warm lights of your room, making the city of progress look ethereal under the glass. But it wasn't the shiny buildings or the snowflakes that got your attention, but a small name made with metal and gear parts glued to the bottom of the globe. "No way...is this a real Valdiani?!" the shock in your voice makes Jinx's heart flutter, something that she has never experienced before.

She lets out a proud snuff of air from her nose, pushing her chest outwards, "Consider it a gift for my fav- shit!" the sudden swear catches your attention and you look over to see Jinx doubled over. "Jinx! What is going on?!" It's faint, but you can see her hands wrapped tightly around her left side, traces of blood seeping from between her fingers. "Oh shit! Jinx what happened?" she lets out a breathless chuckle, her skin suddenly far paler than normally. "Hah, just some gift the bluebellies have given me" she sucks in a breath when you move her hands, biting a scream away. A deep wound runs along her side, pus forming where her skin had been pulled back from the slash, bleeding red on your covers. You run outside of your room and collect gauze, antiseptic, healing creme and a glass of water.

"Here, bite this" you hand her an old cloth, which she promptly places in between her teeth. "Ready?" she nods, taking a deep breath and closing her eyes. The heat of your hand is the only thing that brings her comfort. She isn't ready though when you pour the liquid over her wound: it feels like billions of needles stinging and burning her flesh, making her want to vomit.

"There there, it's over..." you quickly dry her skin and massage the healing cream on her, finally finishing when you cover her stomach with the gauze. She releases a huff of relief, mindlessly tangling her fingers with yours. When the pain subsides, she realizes how close the two of you are. You on your knees, her panting and sweating, how close you are to her and how fast her heart is beating. It would take a second, just a second for her to reach for your lips and melt into you...

"Uh... I- uh, just-, what happened?" you try to not sound too shy but your voice gives your feelings away. "I..." Jinx's throat bobs and it seems that she'd rather curl herself up like a hedgehog than admitting whatever she did. "You know, the usual. Went on a walk, stormed a shop, stole some things, got the enforcers called on me and..." she gestures towards her side, "...this happened".

Jinx isn't clear with her words, but something about the blush on her skin hints at the fact that there may be something else underneath her facade. You might try at least, right? Reaching for the glass globe, you twirl it in your hands, watching the snowflakes fall on Piltover. "Jinx...did you get chased after stealing this?", she doesn't answer, but her shy silence is enough for you.

"Why? Why do this for me?" she pouts her lips before answering, still held back by some sort of pride. "W-what can I say? Anything for my favorite piltie...".

A heavy silence fills the room, of the kind that is difficult to bear.

You can't believe it. You just can't believe that she'd be so reckless, so stupid! It's difficult to bite your anger back, but you do so, and instead of crying or screaming or scolding her, like Jinx thought you were going to do, you just hug her tightly against your chest. Your grip is so strong against her that she feels like she'll choke on it.

But you are so warm in comparison to her body, so, so warm. For the first time in a while, after Silco's death, after Vi's betrayal, after everything went to shit, she feels like she can breathe. And so she does, inhaling your scent in between, tasting it on her tongue. When you pull back, Jinx's eyelids are heavy with want, her mouth slightly open and her skin red.

It takes a second for her lips to push against yours, for her hands to come up and grab your face and pull you down towards her. The kiss is surprisingly tender for it to be Jinx's: you expected teeth and tongue, not pecks and soft touches. The way she sighs and runs her hands on your chest has you keening for her. "Jinx..." a small line of spit connects your lips, and before you can say anything else, she wipes it off on your bottom lip and sighs, "You know what piltie? I think I deserve something too".

Blinking at her a couple of times, she groans at your naivety and continues while taking your cheeks in her hand. "It has been a hard day for me: running from enforcers, bleeding all the way here... I think I deserve a gift too".

And that's where you are now, naked from the waist up with Jinx on your lap, diligently taking what's hers. The way her tongue teases your nipple is something to die for. It seems all her softness has died with the kiss you shared before, now tugging and biting every part of you. You gasp as she bites your nipple, leaving the indents of her teeth on the delicate skin.

"If I knew I could see you all shy and fidgety-" she tugs your left nipple with her long fingers, smiling cruelly when tearing a gasp from you, "...I would have done this earlier". Her lips leave your right nipple, spit chilling the skin, before she teases both of them with the point of her fingernails, moving and tickling them.

Jinx lets out one of those cruel laughs of hers before diving right back on your nipple, giving it one last kiss and moving towards your stomach. She kisses and strokes every one of your scars, every mole or freckle, every inch of skin, until she comes across the hem of your pants. "N-No wait, Jinx..." you place your hand on her forehead, strands of blue hair falling in between your fingers. She halts immediatley at your discomforted voice, billions of little alarms going off in her head and an attentive yet scared look in her eyes. "What is it?".

"I... I have to tell you something" and with that, her heart beats faster and faster and that obnoxious voice inside her head speaks; 'You've hurt her' and 'Look at what you've done' and 'Did you really think she would genuinely like you?'. But your voice is stronger than theirs. "Hey? Is everything alright? We don't have to do this" in the meantime, your hand cups her cheek, thumb stroking at the pale skin. "Yeah I- I am okay. And I want to" her own fingers close in on you and she takes a moment to breathe. Your own warmth is one of the only things that can make her calm. When the voices blur away and only you and her are left, she opens her eyes again, your reflection sharp inside their pink. "What do you have to tell me?" now it was your time to take a breath, because knowing Jinx, she could have two reactions over your news: making fun of you or absolutely losing her shit. "I... I am a virgin".

She takes a moment to process the information and then lets out a wheezing laugh, making blood rise quickly to your face. "That's it?! I thought I accidentally hurt you or something!". The only thing you can do at this point is pout and look away offended. "Oh come on toots" her hands take a hold of your face before turning you to her, who is smiling softly and with tenderness. "I am just kidding. Don't be so moody. And besides..." she captures your lips, biting and licking and sucking until they darken, leaving a faint trace of blood where her teeth were, "...It's so fucking hot".

The descent to get to her prize is tedious and long, but Jinx can't help but want to savor each one of its steps. Her fingers finally hook on the hem of your pants and pull down, revealing your naked thighs to her; the only thing stopping her from claiming her prize is the fabric of your underwear. "Wait a second..." despite how cute you look to her, Jinx rolls her eyes at yet another one of your attempts to stop her. "What, toots? You don't want me to fuck you?" your eyes widen when she so bluntly says that, without an ounce of embarrassment on her face, but continue. "What?! N-no I want to....it's just that..." you eye Jinx's position on the floor. "The wound might be painful if you crouch... I don't want you to hurt yourself".

"So, what do you want me to do?". You look back between Jinx and the plush, comfortable bed, a lightbulb popping off on your head. "Lie on the bed", you say, making Jinx blink a few times before processing and understanding your intentions. "Ohh, I didn't take you for the kinky type, toots". She crawls over the bed, making sure to look as alluring as possible, then lies down with her head pressed on one of your pillows. "There. Do you like this more?" the way that she's so smug about it, with that stupid smirk of hers, makes you want to choke her to death.

"Shut the fuck up", you follow her, placing yourself on each side of her head, feeling her hands rise on your tighs to curl on the soft fabric she so wishes were to disappear. "Hmhm, alright" she eyes the patch of cloth that has begun to show a wet stain, images of what she is going to do to you already flashing in her mind. But this position prevents her from sliding them off without you having to move away from her, and she'd rather keep you and your pussy here. "You know, as much as I love how cute you look with these..." you only have a brief moment to see a malicious glint in her eyes, before she tears your underwear apart, leaving you naked in front of her "I'd much rather have you bare". "Jinx! I just told you to shut up!" it doesn't help that she doesn't mind you and whistles loudly, making you feel more and more embarrassed. "And I -shut up!-. And-and those were expensive! Do you know how-!" but all your words die in your throat when she, with a strength you didn't know she had, pulls you flat against her mouth.

She licks your clit like a starved woman, like it will be the last meal she'll ever have. She doesn't dive right in your pussy, instead takes her sweet time to torture you, making you wish she'd just fuck you already. "Jinx...please, I-" she opens her eyes to see you above her, naked and panting with pleasure, something she only ever dreamt of seeing.

She can't say no to her favorite piltie. Her cold hands grab your ass, propping you up in a new angle on her face so you can't move, but she can do everything she wants to. She spends the next minutes milking your pleasure out of you, before pushing one finger slowly inside of you. You gasp in pain at first, a small trickle of blood wetting your skin and her fingers, and after a few minutes, feeling need arise from the depths of your guts. Jinx's eyes widen when she first feels you move atop her fingers, riding them messily; and she already has a new idea. "No, none of that toots" with her left hand, she yanks your hips down on her fingers, preventing you from moving further. Her next words feel like ice cold water on naked skin; "I won't make you cum if you do it again" and as if that wasn't bad enough, she emphasizes her point with a trust of her fingers. "You will be a good girl, won't you?".

"Yes, yes, yes I will be a good girl..." her smile is all you see before she disappears underneath your thighs. As soon as you get used to the alien feeling of her fingers inside of you, her pace is unrelenting; fast and hard, torturing your clit with her lips. She takes your hips and places your slit directly onto her tongue, forcing you to grind down on it. When you start to wheeze from her touches, she decides to move onto the next phase of her plan. "Hey baby, get up a sec" you would rather keep on grinding on her tongue, but comply anyway. You get up, putting ditance between your slit and her mouth, but while you do, she directly shoves in her fingers, making your legs almost give out. With her other hand she pushes you until your ass is flat against her lap. "Come on, bounce" you don't let her repeat herself twice, already fucking yourself on her fingers at the best of your abilities. What she's seeing is far better than anything she could have ever dreamt of: her favorite piltie bouncing up and down her fingers, eyes heavy and panting above her. And your movements on her own crotch only make her feel more and more euphoric. Oh, if only she could feel you... When she curls her finger on that spot that has you keening, you finally come undone; finger intertwined, billions of stars exploding beneath your eyelids and electricity coursing through your veins. You collapse on her, skin against skin, puffing and gasping for each breath. Your whines reach Jinx's ears and right now, she wants nothing more than to tear orgasms upon orgasms from you, but she'll have to wait.

You roll over, taking a place near her on the bed, shivering from the intensity of your first time. And when Jinx, with a horrifyingly both sweet and sadistic smile turns to you, excitement clear on her face, your pussy clenches around nothing and your blood turns to ice. "So, wanna go again?"