#sorry y'all another delay

[charlotte-queen-owl]

[allykatsart]

So will Adam still launch his attack? This time behind Sera’s back. I would like to see our little Snake boy in heaven.

Well... about that XD

(I had to hold off on this ask for awhile cause spoilers, sorry lol)

Adam's got different plans. He's going after another sinner entirely, the one that was used as an example for the rest of the heavenly court. The one that inspired Emily to stand up for the lost souls in hell....

[candied-cae]

And Who Are We At The End Of The World? - The Best Welcome Party

Chapter 14/? - - - Read it on AO3

[1] [2] [3] [4] [5] [6] [7] [8] [9] [10] [11] [12] [13] [14] [15] [16] [17] [18] [19] [20]

Word Count: 11,681

Summary: With Eddie conscious for the first time since "the earthquake," a lot has to happen. Notably, he needs to be questioned by the Hawkins Police. But, of course, there may just be a little bit to check on before they deal with that responsibility...

More ST Fics

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At Steve’s house, everyone was still milling around after he and Lucas left. Mr. and Mrs. Sinclair still had a lot of stuff they needed to wrap their head around, and Nancy and Robin were feeling a little stir-crazy in the busy house, so they got an idea. They could run back to their houses, take showers, get changed, and then take off to ask the drama and band directors for their statements on Eddie.

Which would both get them out of the stressful atmosphere of Steve’s living room and give them something to do. And having something to do about how hopeless everything felt seemed to be the only way to get through it.

So, the two of them stuck around just long enough to make Hop sit down with them and agree to be a source. And to grab a couple of quotes so it’d sound like his words, and if anyone bugged him about it he knew what to say. A little bit here about “All kids find their own outlets for rebellion, I’ve pulled over almost every student who’s gone through that high school at least once since I’ve been here.” A line to specify “But Eddie Munson’s never been a very big thorn in my side. Can’t see him having done all this without a good motive. Which nobody’s been able to find.” And then they just rounded it out with a note about circumstantial evidence and there not being enough of anything to make sense to pin it on him. All according to a guy who used to be the city's chief of police.

Then they were able to drive off for their next steps, Nancy obviously the one behind the wheel and dropping Robin off before she went back to her place.

When Nancy got back to her house her dad was, thankfully, back at work. So it was just Holly and Amber sitting around a plastic tea set in the living room while Amber’s mom watched the news. She was able to head right on upstairs without much fuss.

But, while it didn’t take long for Nancy to take care of her own business, Robin had a bit more of a headache to deal with.

Her mom was again not happy she ran off, but it was easier to settle her down when Robin had her call Steve’s house and a parent answered. Joyce had confirmed that there had been chaperones there all night, and there were a whole bunch of them over, not just Steve and Robin alone. As if that would’ve meant anything anyway. But one phone call later and she was able to slip away and clean up so she could get to her plans with Nancy.

When she climbed out of the shower, however, she was interrupted by her mother calling for her.

“Robin!”

The girl was squeezing a towel around the ends of her hair to pull the water out - she hadn’t washed her hair, but the ends got damp anyway - and she yelled back,“ Uh, yeah?”

“You’ve got a call!”

Robin considered trying to run to the wall phone half-dressed or letting her mom try to stall with small talk as she pulled on her jeans. She decided she didn’t really like either option,“ Just tell Nancy I’ll be ready for pickup whenever she gets here!”

“It’s not a Nancy!” Theresa said from the kitchen as Robin reached for her shirt,“ It’s a Vickie!”

And all at once, she felt her heart jump to her throat. She threw on the shirt, haphazardly yelling,“ I’ll be right there!”

Once she got the article over her head, she yanked it down and barreled out of the bathroom. Quickly stealing the phone from her mother’s hands and turning the corner away to be further away from her mother’s listening ears.

“Heeyyy…” She started. But, no way, that sounded so awkward. She coughed and tried again,” I mean, hey. Hey, Vickie. How are- How are you?”

“Hi, hi, and hi to you too, Robin,” she said with a light fluttery giggle that made Robin’s heart seize again,” I’m good. And you are?”

“Good! I am good also.”

Robin was failing at this, right? She was failing at their first phone call. She was all jumpy, and too excited, and not saying words in the right order, and she had to sound so ridiculous-

But she pushed through it anyway. Digging her nails into her palm to try and keep herself from getting all high-pitched from the nerves, she said,” So, uh, how’d you… track me down?”

“Looked you up in the phone book. There aren’t any other Buckleys in town, you know.” Vickie said it like it was obvious.

Because it kind of was. It was how Robin would’ve found Vickie’s number if she had felt so bold. Maybe if she and Steve had been able to find an hour alone, he would’ve built her up to it. But receiving the phone call felt pretty great too.

“Yeah, yeah.” Robin confirmed the very normal behavior,” So, did you need anything or- or what had you calling little ol’ me today?”

“I, um, sorta thought we could hang out? It was fun spending time with you at the high school the other day, and I’d like to do it some more. Unless you didn’t think it was fun and, instead, I’m just the kind of girl who’s nice for company when there’s literally no one else to talk to, and in that case, I’ll just hang up, and we don’t have to talk about this-”

“No!” Robin leaped in to correct Vickie’s unfounded concern,“ No, no, no, I do not think that. I would like to hang out. With you. Too. I had fun on Saturday too. So, yeah, I’d really like to make some plans to spend time together again.”

And there was Vickie’s cute little fluttery giggle again,“ Cool. Um, I know things are still sort of crazy in town, but my parents would give me the keys to the car if you wanted to come up with an errand to run or something, and we could get some lunch after?”

“Yeah, that sounds great. I’d love to- like to do that-”

Calm down, Robin, don’t freak her out.

And, just as Robin was taming her excitement, she remembered she was already expecting a girl to come by,” Oh, yeah... I kind of had plans to help Nance with something…”

Vickie got a little quieter,“ Oh, well, we can raincheck if you want to-”

“No! I, um… actually, if you wanted to help, we were going to talk to Mr. Thompson.”

“The band director?” the girl asked.

“Well, him and Ms. Reynolds. We wanted to get, like, a statement on Eddie’s character from them. See if they had anything nice to say for an article about how he didn’t do it.”

“Oh,” Vickie said it like she was trying to understand the idea. And that made sense. She wasn’t on the inside team, so she didn’t know everything they did. Didn’t know Eddie that well. She’s just been knee-deep in rumors the whole time.

So Robin supplied,“ Which, by the way, he didn’t. It’s a long story, but we were with him pretty much the whole time, and it was actually Jason! Not Eddie, and-”

“Jason? Jason Carver?”

“Yeah. Like I said, it’s a long story, and I can tell you some more about it later, but Eddie really is innocent. I swear. Thing is, even when he wakes up and can explain everything to get the police to drop the charges, a lot of people probably won’t believe it. They’ll say stuff about how he got away with it and make his life a living... nightmare," she barely caught herself from saying 'hell'. A mistake she usually didn't have much trouble avoiding, but she was just so focused on Vickie that she almost missed it," Anyway, Nancy wanted to write something for the school paper to help show people he’s a good guy.

“And he is? A good guy, I mean.” Vickie still asked, though she was beginning to sound like she believed it.

“Yeah. He is.” Robin asserted,” And, since we’re both in band, if you wanted to come, we could probably divide and conquer faster. We can check with Mr. Thompson, and she can go to Ms. Reynolds. So that could be our errand and then get some lunch after.”

“Then, yeah, I’d love to help. You sure Nancy will be okay with me just kinda hijacking you at the last minute?”

“Oh yeah! Definitely. I’ll just let her know what’s going on, and we can all meet up after to share notes.”

“Sounds good. You want to get together now, or do you want me to head over later?”

“Now’s fine. I just got done getting ready to head out with her anyway, so I am all good to go. I can give you the address-”

“It’s in the yellow pages right below the phone number.”

Robin nodded to herself,“ Yes, of course, it is, duh. Then I will see you in a few.”

“See you then, Robin.”

“Bye, Vickie.”

Robin bit into her bottom lip under her wide grin as she hung up the phone. It took everything in her to not stomp around her feet to get all the joyous energy out. Her cheeks were probably bright pink, and her hair had to be a mess, and she’d have to be sneaky to throw on some mascara and her favorite rings before she got out the door if she wanted to look even a little put together.

But it was Vickie. It was Vickie inviting her out for the day. It almost actually sounded like a date. And Robin dared to consider that Vickie’s voice and tone seemed like she knew how it sounded...

Which was insane. She still never thought the chance was real. Even after they volunteered together, and Steve tried so hard to hype her up, she was half-convinced that nothing would come of it besides his false hope. But it was real. And now she had something to work for.

And it was still scary.

But she tried to focus on what Steve told her between all his insisting that Vickie really liked her.

“Be yourself, and all that junk.”

Robin’s own advice thrown back at her. So Robin was just going to have to try to focus on being herself. And all that junk.

Worst-case scenario, she’ll at least be able to tease Steve about the fact that his idea was ridiculous and didn’t work. Which felt like a security blanket, honestly. At the end of the day, if the whole thing went horribly, she'd still find some way to laugh about it with her best friend...

“What was it?” her mother asked from around the corner where she had been reading the newspaper and sipping a cup of coffee that they both knew was mostly creamer.

Robin poked her head over to look at her and attempted to settle herself to answer casually,“ Oh! Vickie’s just gonna help me and Nance with something! We’re going to head out in a bit and ask the band teacher a few questions.”

“The band teacher? Mr. Thompson?” Theresa asked folding and setting down the paper on the kitchen table as she leaned back in the chair.

But even Robin could tell her mother must have done everything she could to eavesdrop. Probably sat so still that the chair didn’t squeak, didn’t drink from her mug so she could listen, and held the paper in loose fingers so it didn’t crinkle the whole time... So she already knew all about what she was asking about. Why they needed to play around it, Robin never understood, but they did. It’s what they did. If they didn’t - if Robin tried to skip the unnecessary explanation - it would turn into a conversation about her manners.

So, instead, Robin confirmed,“ Yeah, Mr. Thompson,” and waited for the next question.

“What do you girls need him for?”

“Well, Eddie was in the school band for a few years. Didn’t do pep band or anything, but Mr. Thompson should still know him.” she clarified,” So we wanted to see if he had anything nice to say about him for an article on Eddie’s innocence. Make sure he doesn’t get mounted on a stake in the town square the minute the police unlock his cuffs.”

Her mother nodded along and took another sip of her coffee,“ Alright. Make sure you’re home tonight or tell me ahead of time if something changes. Before it gets dark out so I know I don’t need to worry.”

“I will, Mom.”

Her mother began to pick back up her newspaper and held out an open hand. The signal Robin always returned by blowing a kiss that she’d pretend to snap her hand around and pat into her chest. Which was another comfort. That was also their thing. Besides any tenseness or misunderstandings, once things settled Robin’s mother would always silently ask for a kiss. And Robin would always send one her way.

And just as Robin was bounding back to the bathroom to brush out her hair and try to doll herself up, at least a little bit, the doorbell rang.

“Wow, Vickie must’ve been pretty close,” Theresa commented from her newspaper.

But when Robin opened the door, it wasn’t Vickie on her front doorstep, but Nancy.

Nancy lit up when she was met with the other girl, a light bounce on her feet that had her curls spring on her shoulders,“ Ready to go?”

“Oh, Nance….” Robin said as she realized she didn’t even have time to try and call ahead to let her know about the change in plans.

“Yes?” Nancy’s eyes brows quirked, and her smile went a little nervous,” Should I be hurt by that reaction?”

“No! Um, I just got a call from Vickie,” she began to explain.

Though, just that on its own didn’t mean much to Nancy.

“Vickie?”

“Yeah! She wanted to help out with the teachers.”

“She did?” Nancy asked.

She found that a little hard to believe, considering the two of them only just got the idea the night before themselves. How did Vickie Nelson hear about it, and why does she care all that much? Clearing Eddie’s name was their business. Not hers.

But Robin just simply smiled back,“ Yeah! So I thought it’d be faster if we split up! She and I could scope out the band director - since he already knows us so well - and you can take care of Ms. Reynolds with no problem. And then we can share the info later and see how useful any of it might be.”

“Oh.”

“That okay?”

Nancy wasn’t trying to seem sour about it. She wasn’t trying to guilt trip her or make a big deal out of it. Robin had seemed all cheery about the idea, Nancy didn’t want to rain on her parade. So she pulled herself together and snapped out of whatever funk she slipped into a moment ago.

“Uh, yeah, yeah. It’s fine. Just- here, take the questions we drew up last night. I’ll write myself a new copy, and we can get together later,” Nancy tore out a sheet of paper from her notebook and handed it over.

“Yeah, I’ll just be one walkie-away if anything comes up!” Robin nodded, accepting it with her easy-going grin still splayed across her face.

“Well, have fun,” Nancy wished her well as she began to turn back to her car.

“Thanks. You too!” Robin threw over her shoulder as she closed the door and was gone.

Okay. That stung.

The whole interaction stung.

Which was weird. Shouldn’t have really stung that much. Nancy and Robin were just new friends. Robin had other friends. It was fine. Maybe Nancy was just kind of put off since they made plans together, and now Robin was dropping them off for someone else. Yeah, anyone would be annoyed by that.

Yeah.

But either way, Nancy packed herself back into her car and breathed for a minute. Got her new notes jotted down. Then she saw Vickie park across the street. The other girl stepped out of the car. Looked around and sort of shook out her arms. Like she was nervous or something. But then she set her eyes on Robin’s front door and walked forward with a kind of determination Nancy supposed she’s worn when she was chasing a good story. Vickie made it up the steps and rang the doorbell, turned around, and shook out her arms again when she locked eyes with Nancy.

She froze. Her eyes were wide, her arms hanging off her a little awkwardly as she just stared back at Nancy in her station wagon. Like she’d been caught doing something wrong.

Nancy pulled her expression into a tightlipped smile. Something simple and polite but not exactly totally friendly. She was still a little annoyed about getting dumped- more like bailed on. Yeah, bailed on. But she gave a little wave anyway, and Vickie unfroze to wave back, wearing her own nervous smile.

And then the door opened, and Vickie spun around without hesitation. So Nancy started the car and drove off before she got a good look at Robin in her doorway again.

She had work to get to.

Robin and Vickie would climb into the Nelson’s hatchback and find Mr. Thompson, while Nancy picked up Jonathan to go with her for Ms. Reynolds.

The pair of girls took off for their director’s house and found themselves gigging a lot to the radio. Their music taste didn’t perfectly match up, but there was some notable overlap that they found entertaining for the drive. Vickie complimented Robin's jewelry, she did end up having just enough time to slip some on along with a coat of mascara before her doorbell rang again. Robin absolutely blushed and complimented Vickie. Said she liked the pale teal spirals she wore before, but the dangling green diamonds were great too.

When the drive was done, and they'd actually arrived to talk to Mr. Thompson, he had good things to say. Which was a real relief to Robin.

Turned out Eddie’s not only been in band since middle school, but he’d even stay after school for extra lessons when he was picking up guitar. Mr. Thompson had liked the kid. He was the kind of music student that every teacher wants to teach. The kind that loved it and had a knack for the ability. From piano to guitar, Eddie loved music with an intensity that most people never did. Loved it through his first senior year. He ended up not coming back in ‘84, even though he was still at the high school. Thompson had tried reaching out, but Eddie seemed different when he did.

Just said he had too much on his plate - his own band and trying to make money to help his uncle - and walked away.

Mr. Thompson let it go. He had other students to worry about.

But Eddie Munson, that was a good kid who loved music, even if he liked to find ways to play that weren’t entirely classical or conventional. Mr. Thompson remarked about some combative behavior sometimes. But it was more usually aimed at the other students when Eddie felt like they weren’t trying at all or didn’t care, less so at the director himself. At the end of the day, Mr. Thompson wondered what had happened to him when he stopped seeing Eddie loiter in the band hall, but he was never very sold on the idea that he had turned into a killer after less than two short years since they last spoke.

And the statements helped Vickie see Eddie as the good guy who was thrown into a bad situation that Robin knew he was.

The other pair were having a less fun time. Nancy was still wound up, and she wasn’t really sure why. Which only pissed her off more. Jonathan had something to say but didn’t want to spring it on her while she was in a bad mood. Not that it was the kind of news that should be used to ruin a good mood either…

Jonathan was in trouble. Really, really in trouble. He couldn't procrastinate for a few months again, but it was so much harder to say something when he was actually sitting next to her.

It was a quiet drive on their end.

Then they met with the teacher. Who also had pretty good stuff to say about Eddie. Turns out drama teachers usually couldn’t care less about “conventional”. Ms. Reynolds said she was always partial to more experimental fine arts anyway. And Eddie was loud and passionate in classes, that’s the sort of stuff that thrived in drama departments and drove creativity. He had presence and theatrics and was always paling around with Jeff in the back of her classroom. It was also apparently Eddie that had roped Gareth into helping out with set construction for the musical they just put on. And Josie was in the orchestra pit while Bruce helped with lights. Seemed all of Corroded Coffin had come together in her department at one point or another.

Which is how it had been so easy to convince her to sign off on letting them use the drama room for their Hellfire meetings anyway.

Their little crew was still a little divisive with some of the other drama kids. Their dark clothes and leather and metal set them apart. But Ms. Reynolds always liked them. Always appreciated the way they were willing to do whatever to help. And Eddie was the core, or leader, of that.

She had a few good things to say about the kid. He was weird, but unapologetically himself. And she was happy to go on the record that, as wild as he was, she believed that he didn’t do it.

All in all, Robin and Nancy’s mission could be considered a success.

Even if they didn’t do it together.

Now, Eddie himself was in a state of confusion.

He was still sort of reeling from the fact that Steve had been there at all. Steve Harrington had been there. Sat in the chair at his hospital bedside wearing stupid, boring jeans and a dusty, red sweatshirt like it was the most casual thing. The chair didn’t even look very comfortable. But Steve sat in it, more than once he sat there for a few hours and- that’s so weird.

Eddie wasn’t making it up, right?

He wasn’t going crazy from demobat rabies, right?

Steve had been there.

Right?

It was… it was just so weird.

Freaky, one could even say.

Yeah, they’d gotten mixed up in the same problem recently. But to come back for him, to sit at his bedside while he lay unconscious… It wasn't “right.” Didn’t make sense in the world Eddie Munson came from, even if he was starting to accept that place was long gone.

Steve… Steve Harrington was an enigma. For all four of Eddie’s years that they shared at high school together,

Steve Harrington was an enigma.

Even in Steve’s freshman year, he was the talk of the town. Good looking kid, with passable grades that were more easily accepted when everyone saw how he did in competitive sports. He was doing it all. Basketball, Baseball, Swim Team. And on top of that, his folks had crazy money and this big house he could sometimes swing parties at. He was adopted into the top dogs faster than anyone had ever seen.

In his sophomore year, he found his footing. Started to know exactly how he was fitting into things and how to take charge even though he was still an underclassman to most. Started to solidify the group of kids he hung out with along the upper crust. Started getting swarmed by girls. A whole slew of rumors were buzzing around after that about all the babes he was shmoozing between classes.

Though, his junior year might've been the height of it. He seemed like he was soaring in those days. Just basking in the awesomeness of everything in his life going right for him. And then he bagged little miss perfect. And then something happened to him before winter break. And he fell out with most of his old buddies. Focused a little harder on his classes. Fell into place wherever Nancy was.

And then his senior year was like watching him get snuffed out. All at once, he’d lost pretty much everything, except for his girlfriend. And then more shit happened just before winter break… and Steve Harrington didn’t even have that anymore. So he coasted by until he was out. Just sort of kept his head down and managed his social standing without some of the… previous assholery he was a part of. Even if Eddie didn’t believe it at the time. Kept trying to be a big man on campus, but most of his moves fell flat until he quietly graduated. And that was that.

And then… next time Eddie saw Steve up close, he was pushing him against the wall of his dealer's boat house. Trying to come to terms with all the truly insane stuff Henderson was telling him, Steve just nodded along. Then Eddie was fighting for his life alongside him, a fight he was pretty sure he’d lost. But he didn't. And Steve stuck around.

Freaky.

And that’s coming from “The Freak.”

But Eddie didn’t have much longer to dwell on it, because a slightly timid voice spoke from his doorway,“ Eddie…”

And looking over to see - instead of a nurse - one of his own little Hellions, his mouth open up into a wide smile instantly,“ Lucas! How’d you get here so fast? Harrington just left.”

Lucas took his bright expression as a sign to come on further in, so he took steps forward as he made his way to the chair Steve had previously occupied,“ I was just across the hall. I’ve been spending time with Max whenever I can.”

“Ahhhh…” Eddie nodded sagely, as if he wasn’t still playing catch up on what exactly those two had going on,” So, what’re you doing over here on my side then?”

“Wanted to see you up,” Lucas answered simply as he took his seat.

“Wish I could give you a show. I’d do a flip for you if it weren’t for these beauties.” Eddie teased with a jingle of his cuffs against the bed rail.

And then Lucas’s face went something sadder as he carefully asked,“ … so you’re really okay?"

Eddie shrugged, hoping it’d ease the kid a little. He looked kind of nervous for some reason,“ Yeah, man. I guess. I’m a little tender all over, but I’ll be fine. Not planning to abandon you kids any time soon. You’d all make a mess of my club if I didn’t finish up business myself before graduation.”

Eddie ended his line with a light chuckle, but Lucas didn’t respond. He looked a little gone, like his mind was elsewhere. And maybe Eddie should’ve assumed he was thinking about Max next door, but for some reason, he just had this nagging feeling that it was something else.

“Hey, you alright, Sinclair?” he wondered, letting his tone dip a little softer than he usually used it.

“Yeah. Yeah. It’s nothing.” Lucas tried to shake his expression off, but Eddie saw it. And then it clicked.

Oh.

Hellfire.

One of the last things Eddie did before his whole world changed, was exclude Lucas from Hellfire. And things have been so unbelievably crazy the entire time since that day that… he completely forgot.

Shit.

He was a bad friend on Friday, and he hasn’t said anything to Lucas about it.

“I’m sorry, Lucas.”

And Lucas flinched back into himself. So surprised by the out of nowhere apology he had to sit up and try to joke,“ For being in a coma? I know you didn’t do it on purpose-”

“No. For Hellfire,” Eddie corrected,” I’m sorry you weren’t at the last game.”

“Oh,” Lucas seemed to be struggling to figure out what to do with the words that he just moved to brush them away,” I… it’s fine. I was busy at the championship-“

Eddie stopped him from acting like it wasn’t a big deal,“ Lucas. Would you just let me apologize to you?”

And Lucas was tense and quiet for a minute. But eventually, he let out a breath and sat back deeper into the chair,“ Okay.”

“I’m sorry.”

Eddie started it seriously. Let the words sit on their own for a second before he tried to explain himself.

“It feels silly now to think about how worked up I was on Friday. Okay? Like, there are way bigger things than me just wanting stuff to go the way I planned. And… at the end of the day, I wanted you to be there. I know you’ve been juggling Hellfire with basketball, and we usually made it work, but then Hawkins unexpectedly qualified for the big tournament, or whatever, and… I don’t know. I got pissed. I've always hated the basketball guys. Felt like you were different from them- and you are, for the record. You’re different than them in all the best ways. But I got disappointed when I thought about you being with the cool crowd instead of the freaks. Made me feel like you were rejecting us, or leaving us behind for popularity…”

Lucas was shaking his head,“ That’s not-“

“I know,” Eddie told him anyway,” I know that’s not something you’d do, Sinclair. I was just making myself mad when I could’ve been going about it another way. I’ve got a few faults, and quick to anger is one of ‘em. It was cool and all meeting the littler Sinclair - don’t get me wrong - but I do wish you’d been with us for the end of the campaign. And most of the reason you couldn’t be was my fault because I was being stubborn. So I’m sorry. Really.”

And Lucas looked so much lighter in that chair after Eddie was done. Like some secret fear he’d been harboring since Friday that Eddie hated him was just run off. He even looked a little misty-eyed as he brought back his smile.

“I forgive you,” he said, though after a moment. It took him a bit to realize Eddie was waiting for it.

And then Eddie smiled back at him,“ Thanks. Was it a good game at least?”

Well. That astounded the boy.

“You want to hear about my game? You? Eddie Munson? A basketball game?”

Eddie tossed his head side to side like he was mulling it over,“ Well, maybe skip all the boring sporty bits and just tell me the highlights. Final score and stuff. But yeah, tell me about it.”

“Well, um,” Lucas shifted a little closer as he tried to remember how it all happened now that it felt like forever ago,” We’d been kinda neck-in-neck with the last team all night, the Falcons. They’d score, we’d score, we’d score some more, they’d even it right out. It was back and forth the whole game. And then Adam got knocked down… so they pulled me off the bench.”

“Wait a minute, you're saying you actually made it on the floor?” Eddie noticed, which made Lucas light up a little brighter. Now more confident that Eddie was actually interested in listening to him talk about his game.

“Yeah.”

“Ain’t that the first time that’s happened all year?”

He let out a soft chuckle,“ Yeah. It was.”

“You’re kidding…” Eddie leaned back and shook his head, remembering all the times his freshman would complain to each other at the lunch table about Lucas not getting to do anything worth watching.

“Well, if you’re impressed by that, how do you feel about hearing that I made the buzzer beater that won the whole thing?” he tempted.

And then Eddie’s attention shot back up to him,“ What?”

“We were down by one point, just the one, and there were ten seconds left on the clock. Jason tried to make the shot, but the ball hit the rim and bounced off. And I was the one who caught it. I just- It was just in my hands, and I dove out of the huddle, and… there wasn’t any time to think about it. So I took the shot. And it spun around the rim, jumped back out, and hit the backboard, but then it sunk. We won. We beat ‘em, 70 to 69.”

“That’s… that’s incredible, Lucas.” Eddie sounded dumbfounded. He really wasn’t a sporty guy, but even he could picture it. He wasn’t dumbfounded out of confusion, he was just that amazed.

Lucas got a little bashful,“ It was just-“

“No. No, that’s really cool, man,” and then the realization hit,” And we stole your sister so she couldn’t cheer you on…”

“Yeah… I was a little mad about that,” he admitted.

“I’m sorry about that too. You shoulda had someone there.”

“I wasn’t alone. The team practically paraded me around. And Steve was there in the audience. Robin was with the band. Even Nancy was there for the school paper. They cheered pretty loud when it happened.”

He sighed a little wistfully,“ I wish I saw it too.”

And, well, Lucas knew Eddie was trying to make up for everything, but that had to have been an outright lie.

“You hate basketball.”

“Yeah, I do. But I like you, kid. You’re one of my little freaks, and it would have been nice to see you do something that cool. Watch the whole school cheer you on even though you’re a nerd like the rest of us in Hellfire.”

And that…

‘You’re one of my little freaks’

It did a lot for Lucas. He’d honestly been a little scared the whole time that the game would be the final straw. The thing that set him away from Hellfire completely. Until the club became something only Dustin and Mike got to be a part of. But Eddie still thought Lucas was one of his.

He wasn’t getting thrown away.

“Thanks, Eddie,” he finally said when he didn’t think his voice was going to crack.

“Thank you for letting me in on a little of it. Even though I was a dick on Friday.”

The boy tried to walk that back,“ I wouldn’t say-”

“You can say it. One-time free pass since I’m admitting my shortcomings and humbling myself right now.”

And so, through a warm laugh, Lucas agreed,“ Okay, yeah, you were kind of a dick.”

“Thank you,” Eddie laughed a little with him,“ Now, tell me something about this plan Harrington mentioned. Wanna make sure I’ll be able to play my part well.”

Lucas ran over the bare bones with him. Just spent enough time on it that Eddie would know what to say, and then he called a nurse in. Eddie played like he was a little loopy for a few minutes to pass as him off as having just woken up. She checked his vitals and then called in a doctor who told that same nurse to get on the phone with the police department and Eddie’s uncle.

That was when they kicked Lucas out and sent him back across the hall. To make sure the cops wouldn’t have any arguments about the honesty of his interrogation. They really underestimated this Party, if only they knew.

By the end of it, people were on the way and Eddie was getting worn out. Turned out it was hard work waking up from a coma and socializing. He’d fallen back asleep before anyone new arrived at the hospital, but the next time he woke up someone had arrived.

It was Wayne. His wrinkled uncle Wayne. Uncle Wayne, who just looked so exhausted with his eyebrows pinching together, carefully watching Eddie’s hand held within his. Wet eyes that didn't move or blink as he waited to see his boy come back to him.

So Eddie squeezed it and groaned out,“ Hey, old man.”

And the familiar sound of Wayne’s worn and lovingly gruff chuckle was like the sun after such a god-awful week. He took back one of his own hands to wipe under his eyes for a moment before putting it back and smiling at him,” There he is. The man of the hour.”

“Here I am.” Eddie smiled back at Wayne from under sleepy eyes.

His uncle squeezed his hand tighter,“ I got real scared there. Thought I wouldn’t ever see you again.”

“Aw, Wayne, you know you can’t get rid of me that easy. I’m still your problem just like I’ve always been.”

“No, never been a problem,” he corrected.

“Now, I know you’re getting too sappy and lying to me. I am nothing if not a headache.”

Wayne cracked a deeper smile and leaned in closer to brush his hand gently over Eddie’s dark curtain of hair.

“I’ll take the headache, kid.” He told him as he rested his thumb on his nephew’s cheek.

Which was such a Wayne thing to do and say. He was a man’s man. Working with his hands and watching westerns on his days off. That's the kind of classic man he was. They didn’t get all mushy on one another very often. It was an unspoken but entirely understood thing, that they loved each other.

But that line was such a Wayne way to say it.

And then Wayne mentioned,“ You know, you didn’t didn’t get to tell me how the story went.”

“The story?” Eddie wondered for a moment.

“The one you were finishin’ up on Friday. With the big twist surprise you were settin’ up for those kiddos.”

“Oh.”

Because, of course, Wayne would bring up his DnD campaign.

Eddie told him about every single one.

He never bothered with giving him stats or explaining the different dice rolls and how that all worked, but he would practice the story with him. He’d share the bits he’d assume Hellfire would work through during that week’s session while he got all his notes prepared, and - usually the next day Wayne was able - they’d sit down over breakfast, and he’d tell his uncle all about how the party actually played through it.

Wayne loved it. It was like listening to his own private movie told by his nephew. He’d get version one with how it was supposed to work, and then he’d get version two with all meandering and funny jabs from the characters and how they came around the problem. And Eddie would always light up while he talked about it.

But he never got to see Eddie after Friday night, after what was supposed to be the big finale.

“So, how’d it go?” he asked again.

And maybe it would’ve been wise of Eddie to spend the time with his uncle telling him what sort of week he’s just had. Answering all the questions and explaining how serious he was when he talked about monsters this time. But, strangely, it seemed so much more important to talk about the session.

“Well, those rugrats… they really pulled out all the stops.” Eddie told him, shifting around as he continued,” You see, Lucas has this big game come up suddenly. He couldn’t be there. And it would have meant they couldn’t play through the end of the campaign that night. So Dustin and Mike were running all over school trying to find someone to sub in for him. And then they showed up at Hellfire with Lucas’s kid sister! I’m not kidding! This little middle schooler named Erica struts in. And I’m looking at her, thinking there’s no way she’s hardcore enough. She’s practically a baby- and she probably doesn’t even know how DnD works- and she’s all pretty ‘n pink- so there’s just no way! She doesn’t have the metal for it, end of story. I was sure of it. But she busts in any way with this little monologue about just how hardcore she is… And it honestly blew me away a little. So we initiate her as an unofficial member and then we all sat down to start the game…”

And they just talked. Talked and talked about the game. Every second of it made Wayne feel a hundred times better. The longer Eddie spoke about one of his greatest passions, the more Wayne could be sure he wasn’t going to crumble to pieces in his hands.

After that was when Eddie knew he had to tell him about all the shit he’s been through. He couldn’t even imagine not telling his Wayne how crazy it really was. Not explaining why he came home Saturday morning to a body in their trailer. Not explaining why he so absolutely couldn’t go back to his uncle to ask for help. Not explaining that he climbed into hell and almost died in there for a chance at ending some great evil.

That just wasn’t something he could keep from him. Wayne would know he was bottling something up. He was always good at making him talk.

So he talked.

When they got through it all, Wayne just huffed and told him,“ You really did scare me, you know? I wasn’t sure if I’d get a call to identify a body, or if you’d just run away from everything here and I’d never know any better-”

“Sorry…”

“No. Don’t you say you're sorry. You didn’t do nothing wrong. We’re going to make sure they know that.”

Eddie rolled his eyes,“ I don’t think they’ll just take your word for it.”

And then, from the door came the phrase,“ It’s not just his word.”

And it was Dustin Henderson, his mother standing right behind him.

“Henderson,” Eddie’s relief swelled to see the kid alright, then he added,“ And Mrs. Henderson.”

Officer Callahan had been hot on their heels showing up behind them as he started saying something about them not being allowed to see Eddie until they questioned him, how they had been instructed to go wait in Max’s room with the others. So the others were there too. But the two of them walked in anyway, completely ignoring the officer. Claudia took Eddie’s free hand, similarly to how she had Steve’s just the other morning.

And Eddie was just shocked that someone who was effectively a stranger was looking at him with kind eyes. He hadn’t expected to get that kind of treatment.

“My Dusty-bun tells me you stuck with him through the… earthquake. Made sure he was okay, and stayed safe even though the goddamn world was falling to pieces. Is that true?” she asked him, already very sure of the answer but wanting to hear him say it himself.

And something was flickering in the way she said it. ‘The… earthquake.’ So she knew it wasn’t really an earthquake. Which - as he thought about it - he remembered hearing Steve mutter about some parents finding out.

So Eddie gripped the bedrail and pushed himself to sit up in his bed, trying to be just a little awestruck, and answered.

“Yes ma’am,” like how Wayne always wanted him to say to adults. He usually bucked against the whole respecting your elders and authority figures thing, but for Dustin’s mother, he’d make an exception.

Her sweet smile pressed further into her plush cheeks, and she reached up to gently pat his hair with her hand, so very similar to how Wayne had,” Thank you. I will never be able to thank you enough for helping watch out for my baby-”

“Mom-” the kid groaned as if he could possibly still be surprised by the way his mother coddled him.

“So if you ever need anything, you can always reach out to us. Don’t even bother asking first, just take what you need.”

“That’s…”

Ridiculous. It was ridiculous to receive an offer like that from some little suburban mom. Even if she shared Dustin’s DNA and contributed to the weirdness of the little guy, she was still… just some mom. Not his.

But she pressed on,“ You saved me from my greatest fear. So whatever you need. And all of us are going to make sure everyone knows what really happened, as much as we can-”

“Okay,” Callahan tried to step in,” You can’t talk about the investigation before we’ve been able to question him-”

But then Ms. Henderson raised her finger to silence him while she turned back to Eddie,“ Do you feel up for their questions, honey?”

And that stunned him a second time. To watch Claudia Henderson shut up a policeman with a single finger and wait for Eddie’s cue before she was going to let anything happen. It was just stunning.

“Uh- yeah. Yeah, sure,” he croaked out when words came back to him.

“Alright,” she looked back at the man in blue,” Then ask him your questions so you can uncuff him and leave the poor boy alone.”

Callahan was readying to tell her about how that’s not exactly how it works,“ Ma’am-”

When Powell entered the room and interrupted him with a warning tone,“ Callahan.”

“They-” he began sputtering and motioning his hands at the pair who weren’t supposed to be in the room.

But before he could really argue, the Chief spoke to the mother,“ Ms. Henderson, you know you were supposed to go across the hall-”

“Well, we got over here just fine.” she innocently shrugged.

Chief Powell looked back at the officer with a disappointed glare as Callahan attempted to excuse himself,“ I tried-”

But Ms. Henderson was absolutely not allowing the two of them to waste time on it,“ Are you going to question him and get it over with?”

“Yes. Okay? If we could have everyone clear the room now? He’s not a minor; he can do this on his own.”

And then Claudia Henderson had the gall to look back at Eddie and wait for his blessing. Again. Like she was really willing to put her foot down and argue some more with the cops. Which- okay- maybe that was pretty badass. Way more than he was expecting from some prim and proper suburban mom. So Eddie gave her the nod she was looking for, and she placed her hands around Dustin’s shoulders to steer him into the other room.

Wayne gave his hand another tight squeeze and said,” You just holler and I’ll knock that door down, you hear?”

“I’ll be fine. Get outta here already,” Eddie squeezed his hand back.

Then Wayne let him go, and it was the first time he wasn’t being held since he arrived. His palm felt a little cold now. But he was okay. He was going to be okay.

Wayne left the room and followed the rest into the Max’s. They hadn’t all arrived yet. So far it was Steve, Nancy, Jonathan, Lucas, Erica, Mike, and now Dustin. They are also accompanied by Karen, The Sinclairs, Susan, and now Claudia and Wayne.

Hop and Joyce were on their way with Will, El, and Argyle. Murray said he’d stay behind “strategizing”. And Vickie was supposed to be dropping Robin off any minute. Apparently, they had just sat down to eat an early lunch together when Steve reached out to everyone. Which had been news to him. So he’d been waiting with a very specific kind of impatience ever since. If he didn’t get to squeeze every ounce of information about her first date - because he was absolutely calling this a date - by the end of the night, he was going to go crazy.

In the meantime, everyone mingled the best they could. Wayne thanked Claudia for her ferocity for his boy, she thanked him for raising such a good one. Mike was on the walkie asking for updates on how close the Hopper-Byers car was to the hospital every few minutes, going on and on about how excited he was for El and Will to meet Eddie. Nancy seemed tense but told everyone they had used the morning to make some progress in cleaning things up. And Dustin was talking to Lucas and Erica about how Eddie looked before he and his mother were kicked out.

The questioning went well.

At least, it felt like it did.

Eddie didn’t really have anything to compare it to, seeing as he’d always kept himself out of too much trouble before. But it seemed like it wasn’t awful. There wasn’t any yelling, and while they asked him to be more specific or clarify what he was saying, they hadn't argued against his claims. So maybe Steve was right when he said they were leaning his way. And maybe Robin and Nancy would be able to turn it all around for him somehow.

But he reminded himself not to get carried away and hope for too much while Chief Powell finished up.

“We’ve taken your statement, and will be going over it with the evidence and the other testimonies we have collected. We don’t have an answer for you now, but we’ll be back tomorrow with the final decision on how the Hawkins Police Department will be proceeding with the charges.”

“Okay.”

“In the meantime, the cuffs stay on. And the visitors can come back in, but we’ll be posting an officer to keep an eye on you-”

And that was when the door swung open. Seemed like the people around there really didn’t care about following the rules. Chief Powell’s face twitched as he braced himself to tear into whoever just barged in when he found himself looking at a dead man.

“Chief…?”

It was the only word that came to him after referring to the man by the title for so many years. He looked different now, but he was still so unmistakably Jim Hopper.

He stepped into the room and motioned,“ From what I hear, that’s your job now, Cal.”

“You… you’re… how are you…” he sputtered, Callahan next to him just standing in silent shock with a hand over his mouth.

“Long story. One I don’t really want to go over. How about we call it a kidnapping and move on?”

“Kidnapping?” Powell asked,” But you- eight months, Chie- Hop… Hop, it’s been eight months since… you ‘died’ in the mall fire. Did they all lie about you being there, or-”

“No, I was there. Don’t try to take away my Hero of Hawkins medal now. It was the dying part that just didn’t stick.” Hopper corrected.

Then Callahan found his voice,“ But what’re you…?”

Hop shrugged and looked at Eddie for a second, which was weird because they’d never really spoken, but now the guy was on his side, technically,“ Was listening by the door and thought I could ask about possibly forgoing some of that procedure.”

“What?”

“Look, the kid’s clearly been through hell enough already, Cal-”

“Hop…” Powell shook his head,” This case is already messy enough as is. Everything needs to be by the book from this point on-”

“Come on. Call it calling in a favor?” he tried.

Which pulled a small smile to the other’s face because it was just so much like him to ask,“ You have no favors to call in.”

“You’re right, I never stocked any up. But… what about it anyway?”

“Look… as soon as the choice has been made, you’ll know. We aren’t dragging our feet on this, but we can’t be caught making mistakes. I’ll assume you’ve seen the news?”

“Yes, I’ve seen the-”

“Then you know, this has to be done right. There are too many eyes on it, and too much has gone off the rails already.” He emphasized. Then he spared a glance back at Eddie, and the kid did seem kind of pathetic.

“But we can loosen the cuffs a notch. Looks like Daniels put ‘em on a little tight.” He gave, stepping up to unlock them and clicking them back in place more comfortably.

Hop came in close behind him to ask,“ Who’ll be assigned the babysitting duty?”

“I was going to give it to Nichols,” Powell answered.

“Okay…” Jim considered,” Yeah, Nichols is good…”

“Alright then. Go on and invite everyone else in and tell them the protocol. We have work to do back at the station.”

“Calvin?” he asked as the officers headed for the door.

“Jim?”

“Thank you.” He said,” Nichols is…”

“Nichols is good. I know. He’s good at his job and not an ass like some of them, so he shouldn’t make this next day of waiting too difficult on him.” Which was a phrase that made Eddie feel a whole lot better about the guy,” And even if you don’t want to explain where the hell you’ve been the last two-thirds of the year, least you could do is bring a cup of coffee by my new office and tell me what the hell you’re doing now.”

“Yeah. Least I could do.” Jim agreed.

Then Powell nodded and left. Just like that, Eddie had officially done all he could to clear up the mess, and then it was out of his hands. It felt weird, to be on the other side of the fear. He had been dreading it the entire time since he saw Chrissy die right in front of him. “How do I get out of this?” played over and over in his head whenever the world was too quiet. And now he faced it. And he just has to lie there and wait until there’s news.

But before he could stew in it any longer, there were all his kids - plus a few new faces - packed in the door of his room. The adults excused themselves, some heading off to pick up some food from the diner in town for everyone to eat for lunch while the rest just headed on home themselves. Each of them decided to let the youngsters reunite on their own for a little bit.

As soon as Eddie saw Michael Wheeler coming in, he broke out an excited,“ Hey! It’s Little Wheeler! Where have you been all week? Didn’t you hear we were all hanging out?”

Mike, who was just a moment ago beaming to see his DM awake, let his expression instantly drop at the nickname.

“Little Wheeler?” he questioned.

Eddie explained,“ Well, yeah, I can’t call you and your sister both ‘Wheeler’ after all.”

Mike argued,“ I should be the original ‘Wheeler’!”

“I’m not calling Nance ‘Big Wheeler’, dude.” Eddie rolled his eyes,“ Plus she’s cool. Way too cool to not be the standalone ‘Wheeler’. You know?”

Nancy was wearing a pretty smug look when Mike turned on her,“ You stole my DM.”

“What?”

“You stole my DM!” he repeated,” I leave for one week, and suddenly I’m ‘Little Wheeler’?”

She shrugged her shoulders at her brother,“ That’s not my fault. Stop being ‘Little Wheeler’ material.”

“I’m the taller one!”

Eddie reached out his hand to try and get in between them,“ Wheelers, Wheelers, you're both pretty. No need to fight for the affections of my heart-”

But Mike wasn’t even listening,“ Give it back!”

“Give it back?” she quoted back to him.

“Give it back!”

“I’m not ‘giving it back’, Mike. It’s a nickname. Earn a better one if you’re going to be so worked up about it. How about we give ‘Little Shit’ a try?” she offered.

They kept bickering between themselves as someone new stepped in a little closer to Eddie’s bedside.

He recognized her from the empty space in his head they’d met a few days ago, but he still didn’t really know her yet.

And then she looked at him with bashful eyes and began speaking,“ I like your hair. It’s… pretty.”

Eddie’s hair reminded her of her own before she woke up in that bed at the NINA project to see they'd cut it all off. She really liked having long hair. It was something that she was able to look at the mirror and say “It’s been so long since I was trapped there that now my hair goes past my shoulders.” She can’t say that anymore.

Because they caught her again.

And maybe she walked right into it but… she liked her long hair.

Missed it now.

And Eddie said, with a flourish,“ Why thank you, m’lady. Not exactly the style of flattery I usually aim for, but I am more than happy to accept it regardless.”

That’s right. Mike had said that Eddie was pretty “metal.” So maybe there was another word that fit him better.

“It’s also really… bitchin’.”

And Eddie just lit up. His eyes and smile widened at the soft-spoken girl,“ Oh my god, you’re my favorite now. Please, come closer, you little angel!”

He beckoned her with his hand as much as he could while still being restrained, and El’s own smile grew with her giggle as she stepped up to his bedside with more confidence. Her brother was just behind her, and Eddie had been about to greet him when two of the kids he already knew well enough yelled at him.

“Hey!” Mike and Dustin protested in unison. Both of them were clearly mad about the fact that he just called El his favorite, and he didn’t even know her name yet.

“Hey yourselves!” Eddie shot back,” This cutie saved my life and just gave me the greatest compliment I’ve ever received!”

“But that’s- That’s not-” Dustin sputtered before turning to one of the other older boys in the room,” STEVE!”

“What do you want me to do about it? I can’t magically make you his favorite again-“

To which Mike took offense,“ Hey!”

“Please, Mike, do you really think you were Eddie’s favorite?” Dustin asked him with that same tone Steve kept saying he’d do something about, yet hasn't,” It was obviously me. And it’s obviously going to be me again, once I retake my throne from this thief!”

El scrunched her eyebrows together at him,“ I did not steal it.”

“Yes, you did! With magic powers and sweet words!”

Eddie chimed in,“ Don’t forget the cute face.”

“And your cute face!” he added with an accusatory finger, though it just made El laugh again.

Lucas shrugged and sided,“ I’m on El’s team. You can’t not like her. I tried. Didn’t get very far.”

She gave him a courteous nod,” Thank you.”

However, Mike seethed “Traitor!” in the other boy's direction.

“So, El’s the name of the darling I owe my life to?” Eddie asked her, ignoring the boy’s play fighting.

“Yes. Short for Eleven.” She answered.

“Eleven?”

“There’s a lot we didn’t have time to explain fully the first time around,” Steve told him.

“I wasn’t even here when Eddie’s life went to shit! I think that means I get bonus points.” Mike got louder as he tried to argue.

Lucas was the one to disagree,“ That doesn’t make any sense. None of us screwed him over.”

“If anything, you weren’t even here to try and help him out of it. I think that means we deserve bonus points.” Dustin added.

“They are so immature.” Erica rolled her eyes and said to Steve.

“I know they are.” he agreed,” At least you behave when you aren’t too busy blackmailing us-”

“Eddie! You’re really awake!” Robin rushed in, finally arriving with the rest of them.

“Last one in, Robin?” Eddie asked.

“I was…” She spared a glance at Steve, who was already looking at her pretty intently, before she put her focus back on the one in the bed,” looking into something. For you!”

Erica leaned in closer to Steve and whispered while Robin rambled about her meeting with Mr. Thompson,“ It is not blackmailing when I am just insisting on the return of the goods and services that were pledged to me-”

“It’s a little blackmail-y, or like, at least blackmail-adjacent the way you do it,” Steve whispered back.

“And yet, I didn’t even need to apply the pressure for five minutes before you broke. Seems like you just knew I was right.”

Steve deadpanned at her,“ Okay, I take it back. You don’t behave. No one in The Party behaves.”

“Oh, that’s the truth.” Robin hastily agreed when she caught the back half of what he said.

“Oh, so this is The Party?” Eddie asked with a motion to the room.

Mike pipped up,“ Yeah. We’re The Party.”

Nancy gave a light shove to his head,“ It’s what they’ve been calling themselves since the day Dustin moved into town. And once we all got mixed up in everything together, we all kind of adopted it.”

"We're still the originals, though," Mike mentioned with a motion between the four boys.

“So that’s what the little angel meant. Not celebrating.” Eddie figured, finally connecting the dots. But should he really have expected the person he confused with God to be using fantasy terms that way? Can’t blame the guy for assuming she’d meant it by the normie definition.

“No, she was not referring to an actual party.” Will joked beside her.

“Good, because I was going to be pissed if you were all just having fun while I was dying.” He huffed.

Steve stepped forward,“ You weren’t dying-”

“Oh no, he absolutely was.” Robin interrupted him,” You heard El, she had to keep him together enough to even make it to the hospital-”

“What?”

And there was Wayne at the door, along with the other parents all holding to-go bags of food for everyone. Thus started the third - and hopefully last - explanation of what was actually going on. They couldn’t really pretend like everything was normal since Eddie had already told Wayne most of what happened to him. So they just explained it further. Went over the bits that Eddie didn’t know anything about or didn’t understand fully. They had the discussion over burgers and fries, and vending machine sodas and candies. Which made all the information go down a little bit easier.

Eddie learned why a child would be named Eleven.

Wayne learned that his boy’s innocence rests on the integrity of a mountain of lies.

Which was really scary to think about.

So they tried not to.

They all started getting to know one another a little better, seeing as how they’d be putting together more plans to fight off the end of the world. Wayne and Hopper noticed a few similar mannerisms between them. Eddie was more properly introduced to El and Will. And Jonathan and Argyle. And Joyce. Those were all the new faces he was getting a real conversation with. According to everyone, there was some guy who didn’t feel like coming in, two more on the way, and the other parents had headed off back to their homes until visiting hours were over. They didn't want to overwhelm Eddie and thought the kids should get to spend some time with him. Which was pretty sweet, considering he was a wanted man who had been on the run just a few days before.

It was about then that they were suddenly interrupted by a distressed woman in a pantsuit and sunglasses at their door.

But before she even got a word in, Nancy was standing up from her seat and very sharply telling her,” Out.”

The woman peeled off her sunglasses and responded through a clenched jaw,” I see you found our missing persons… and then some.”

She added that last bit while eyeing Jim.

“Get out.” Nancy insisted.

“Ms. Wheeler-”

“I said ‘Get out’. So get out of this room.”

“Nancy…?” Joyce asked, concerned. Nancy had never revisited her grudge against this particular government agent any of the times they ran over things.

The woman pushed,“ We have to talk about what happened.”

“I’m not saying a goddamn word to you people. Since we can’t trust you not to make it worse.”

Then it was Hopper trying to calm her down,“ Kid-”

“They handed her back to him.” Nancy said firmly, making strides around Eddie’s bed to put herself between the woman and the rest of the room, tucking El right behind her,” So no. They don’t get to get close to her again.”

“However you feel about things, we still need to get on the same page if we have any hope of cleaning things up around here.”

“It’s not happening. Not here, not today, and not anywhere near El. I don’t care what you say, it’s not.”

The woman seemed exacerbated,“ We have to-”

Finally, Nancy let out the yell she had been fighting back all day,“ Get out!”

Which was a sight. For everyone. To see her lose her cool like that.

It was different than the way she fought monsters.

It was… something else.

“Ms. Wheeler-”

“Tomorrow then? We all get together and discuss things tomorrow?” Joyce offered the compromise, still making up her mind on how exactly she felt about the situation but sure about wanting to get it taken care of.

Hopper answered for their guest in his own gruff voice,“ We’ll talk tomorrow.”

After a moment of silence, the agent decided to take the deal on the table,“ I’ll leave my card. There’s a number on it. Call and make plans for the meeting, or I’ll show up unannounced again. With backup.”

Nancy was gearing up to walk closer when Steve grabbed her shoulder,“ Get out-”

“I’m leaving. Make sure you call.” She said, pressing the slip on top of the light fixture by the door.

And then she was gone.

“You know… I was going to give this welcoming committee a five-star review in the paper until she showed up. Really soured the mood, you know?” Eddie joked, trying to relieve some tension.

Nancy huffed and returned to her seat,” Sorry. The news must’ve aired footage of the police arriving for questioning and were probably still running the cameras when everyone showed up, so…”

“We weren’t even thinking about that when we got here…” Jonathan muttered beside her.

“It’s okay. Still a pretty rockin’ day from my end. Being not dead and all.”

“That’s it, man. We just gotta focus on the positives.” Argyle smiled back at him.

“What’s the plan for the meeting?” Robin asked nervously.

“El’s not coming.” Nancy set the condition sternly.

“Agreed.” Hop nodded and crossed his arms.

“But-” the girl tried to argue.

“No. We have to assume she won’t be alone, and while Sam might’ve been on your side, we don’t know what they’re doing now on their own. We need to know how everything stands. If there are people who aren’t our allies, we aren’t giving them an opportunity to get ahold of you again.”

“We can’t just leave her alone, Hop,” Joyce noted.

“So, you don’t.” Wayne thought,” You bring her here on the way to the meeting. There are all the cameras at the entrance, an officer will be posted by the room, and this hospital is still full of people. If someone tried to break her out of her against her will, they wouldn’t get very far without drawing a lot of attention.”

Jim nodded some more,” Yes. Yes, that’s a good idea. El can stay here until we finish.”

“More time to hang out with my guardian angel? Sounds good to me.” Eddie agreed with a smile, hoping El wouldn’t be nervous about the idea.

“So then, tomorrow morning. Most of the rest of us. Some place public. Get this dealt with so we can figure out the next move.” Jim concluded.

And no one else said anything, but they all agreed. That was the plan.

There wasn’t much more to say the evening, so when four o’clock arrived and a nurse was kicking everyone besides Wayne out and introducing Officer Nichols, they all went their separate ways. Most of the kids' parents were pulled up by the hospital entrance for pickup. Except for Robin who Steve whisked away so they could spend a few hours doing some much-needed checking in. Robin just had her first date after all, so there was so much to talk about before he needed to drop her off at home.

She told him everything. All about the phone call and Vickie's new earrings. About all the ways Vickie made her laugh and how she could swear she’d noticed Vickie’s eyes lingering on her when she would get lost in her rambles. About the way that Vickie sat right next to her while they talked to Mr. Thompson on his front porch. About the way that Vickie leaned against her and touched her shoulder and seemed to be so close sometimes that Robin swore her head was spinning.

She talked about it all with Steve.

Because telling her best friend about her amazing day made it so much more real.

And that was the moment Steve decided Robin wasn’t coming with them to the meeting. He had already been pretty sure about it but watching her bursting with excitement about her first real chance at loving a girl made him certain.

There was probably going to be nothing major that happened. It would be stupid of the Feds to try and take out something like a dozen people in a small town where everyone knows each other. But he wasn’t going to risk it. Just couldn’t imagine risking Robin disappearing before she got to kiss Vickie for the first time and feel loved in that sweet special way that romance can hold.

With everything Steve knew about love and everything he didn’t, he knew that Robin deserved to have her chance to find out about it.

[kithtaehyung]

bet wrong (3tan717) | myg

drabble: bet wrong pairing: 3tan!yoongi x reader(f)  series: masterlist | three tangerines | 3tan717 | one  rating/genre: pg (18+) ; angst , fluff ; brother’s best friend au, implied age gap au summary: after seeing how comfortable yoongi is in his place with your brother and their friends, it’s hard for you to leave… but it’s also hard for you to stay. note: apologies for all the late postings! but kim yeji’s aura was so strong it made me write about her so here we are hahaha. it's not really edited cus i just wrote this up and posted so apologies for any mistakes! note 2: this is in a pocket universe in the three tangerines series, so if you haven’t read the series yet, these characters would make more sense if you did hehe. even though this is very heavily influenced by the olympics, i’m keeping it as easy to read as i can. you can imagine them watching any of the events happening lol warnings: 3tan yoongi as always, angst, olympics talk, yoongi fights back??, the Yearning is Strong, reader is a tease, shiv is back!, brother and jimin are dorks, but so is everyone else, yoongi on the phone, he's so down bad y'all i wanna cry :(( drop date: august 1st, 2024, 7:17pm est word count: 2.3k (just like the first drabble omg?)

—

—

“Hey, you made it!”

“Oh, shit, look who’s here!”

After a quick greeting to everyone in Yoongi’s living room, you slip off your shoes with a distracted, “I can’t stay long but, I’m here!”

Even though the handsome devil next to you shoots a look, it’s your brother that speaks up, “Wait, why?”

“I’m meeting my friends in a bit.” You hand a still-quiet Yoongi some snacks you brought for everyone, asking a question with a very obvious answer, “Where should I put these?”

He blinks before forcing out, “Over here.”

“K.”

Sounds of conversation and sports games spring about. Jimin’s clearly in some sort of squabble with your brother and Shiv is fanning the flames. There’s a couple guys you recognize but don’t really know talking on the opposite side of the coffee table, but they’re all watching the Olympics and giving their own comments. 

Hopefully it’s noisy enough to shroud your dizzying thoughts. Because Yoongi looks damn good in his casual fit and his hair speaks volumes. 

What you would give to run your fingers through those waves. Following him through his bustling apartment is already giving you the shivers, so what would a sudden touch feel like? A burst of fire?

“I’ll take those,” he instructs, taking the bags from you and pulling everything out with crinkles. When he sees a certain bag, his blinks make you giggle.

It’s a specific chip he likes, recently divulged during a long night of learning things about one another—like favorite foods, and how fast or slow he likes you riding. 

So of course you threw it in your basket before heading over. 

Commentators make conversation on the television as you shrug, “Don’t ask me, I dunno how those got in there.”

God, that smile always makes you melt. And he proceeds to turn you into mush as he shows gratitude under his breath,

“Thanks, doll.”

“Seriously, I think they just handed me those,” you joke, trying your best to not do any of the million and three things you want to. “Said I was cute or something.”

His laugh is immediate. But it’s shoved away by cheers and yells, and both of you pop out of the kitchen to see what happened on the tv.

Something big must have went down because even Yoongi reacts, scaring you with a delayed reaction,

“Holy shit, what happened? Sorry,” he immediately apologizes at your flinch, putting a daring but comforting hand on your lower back before making his way to the group.

Did he really just…

He is lucky your brother didn’t see from the other side of the couch. 

That was the boldest Yoongi’s ever been and he’s quite literally kissed you in your kitchen. 

“Yeji got silver.”

“What? Wait, run it back!”

“I thought she'd take it!"

Chill out. Relax, relax, relax. Everyone else is clearly entranced by whatever happened and no one is even looking at you. Relax.

But damn, that touch meant a lot more than an apology. 

Seems like the one vocally surprised at the replay wants to do a million and three things, too. 

On your emotional decrescendo, you scuttle back to grab a plastic cup. No use in trying to join them anyway. All you can do for now is get a drink in a kitchen you’re not supposed to know your way around.

Being in his place while your brother is too is quite the experience. 

However. 

This is absolutely the ideal situation you should be in. You would be the one showing up at Yoongi’s at the invitation of your brother, and it would be a small party where you blend right into the background with minimal interaction. 

But of course, the feelings of distance and guilt creep onto your feet, rooting you in place and forcing you to watch from afar. 

They’re all checking their phones and pointing at each other—accusingly? Excitedly?—before switching between different games on the tv and yelling at each other. 

And while you adore them for being such lovable geeks about this, your eyes cannot stop pinning Yoongi with longing. He’s so radiant doing the most normal things, and his eyes have that sparkle they get when he’s comfortable and at home. 

He’s perfect.

Your heart’s warm.

And the cup in your hand never touches your mouth.

—

—

After you take a seat at his dining table—yet another thing you should not know anything about—you cycle between watching them interact and scrolling on your apps. 

At first, you thought you were safe. Staying in the back and letting them have their own time together is good enough for you, especially since you were invited by your brother to stop by.

Really, you were just a courier for food they wanted. 

But it was on the way. And it’s a chance to see someone you’ve been missing.

So of course you faked reluctance to come.

The plan was to do exactly this. Hang back until you had to leave, maybe have a bite or two, and try hard not to yearn for Yoongi too long.

Failed step three.

But also now step one, because Shiv decides to twist around to yell, “Hey! Come join us!” 

“I’m good over here,” you reply, smiling when he gives you a look. 

“Suit yourself!” 

One of the guys you recognize but don’t really know gets off the couch to head into the kitchen, asking a question as he opens the fridge.

Wait, he’s asking you something? You?

You leave your chair so you can hear him better, and when he repeats his question you respond.

“Want a drink?”

“Oh, uhh. Sure.”

“Pick your poison. Yoongi doesn’t have much but it’s all strong.”

He’s pretty cute. But then again, all your brother’s friends seem to end up this way. “Water’s fine,” you say with a light smile. “I have to be somewhere else in a minute.”

“Leaving so soon?” He grabs a cup to fill with your choice before handing it over. Leaning against the same counter Yoongi has smushed you against many times, the man takes a sip of his beer. “You just got here.”

“I was told to bring food.”

“Ah, come on. You can stay a bit.”

Uh huh.

Bold choice to be flirting with the company present today.

But you know what to do. Swerve. “What even happened back there? You guys scared the shit outta me.”

From the creases of his eyes, your plan works. “Oh, Yeji? She was supposed to win gold.”

“Feel like she won anyway.”

You both snap your heads over to the kitchen threshold, and your stomach could win a floor routine with the amount of flips it completes. “How come?” You decide to ask, throwing both guys for a loop.

It’s Yoongi that responds first, “She’s trending from a video back in May.”

“Oh, shit, really?” 

“Fucking boss. But yeah, none of us got that one right,” his friend responds, which leaves you intrigued. 

“Got it right?”

“Mmhmm. We picked her for gold.” Glancing over at Yoongi now crossing between to get to his fridge, he claps his back. “Even this guy bet wrong and he’s usually right.”

“Bet with my heart,” your secret drones as he cracks open a bottle. 

“We all did, bro.”

Fucking hell, that move was hotter than it should’ve been.

But now you’re kinda invested in what they’re all doing, so you ask how the whole thing works.

Which leads you to sitting in the living room with everyone three whole minutes later.

“So all of these are events, and I pick what I think happens?”

“Yup!”

“Good luck.”

“Choose quick, the next games start soon.”

Everyone’s eyes are on your paper as you look at the options, with some laughs and comments as you circle your choices.

“Mm, I dunno about that one.”

“Hey, hey, no help.”

You glance at your brother and Yoongi before laughing, “I have no idea what I’m doing but this is fun.”

Their amusement is noticeable.

“If you get any of those right, I’ll be surprised,” your sibling teases, earning a laugh from Yoongi and a counterpoint from Jimin,

“Dark horse?”

“Nah, no chance.”

Park’s shoulders raise as he smirks. “It's all luck, you never know..”

Huffing, you pretend to have confidence for days, just happy that you get to be involved and not hang back like the initial plan. “Yeah, I have masterclass intuition, don’t you know?” 

Reactions pop and fizz around you.

“Oh, yeah?”

“Master class, huh..”

“We have a hustler here!”

Your eyes drift to Yoongi’s at Shiv's comment, and you both share a quick, mirth-filled, intimate stare.

This really is a lot more fun already. 

Your phone buzzing is the one thing that interrupts, and you immediately feel relieved and saddened by the fact that you have to go.

Finishing up, you hand your brother your picks before standing, heading to the door and saying that you have to leave. 

“Wait, already?”

“Tell them you’re busy!”

“I kinda want to,” you admit, feeling a little shy at all the eyes on you. “But we’re watching a movie and tickets are stupid expensive now.”

Yoongi’s already next to you as he waits to let you out. “You okay to drive?”

“Me? Oh, yeah, I just had water.”

“K.”

Why does he have to be so considerate right now? Now you just wanna stay here instead of sit through whatever movie your friends picked!

“Be careful,” your brother comments from the living room, and you wave goodbye.

“I will. Y’all have fun!”

“Okay!”

Facing Yoongi, you wanna do so many things. Hug him, hold him, kiss the shit out of him for his exuding presence in the kitchen earlier. 

“Thanks for the food.”

But you obviously can’t.

So you settle for giving him a smile. “Thanks for letting me come over,” you decide to say. “Have fun tonight.”

You get a small lift of his lips in return. “You, too.”

“Yeah.. I’ll try.”

Hearing sounds from outside as you walk to your car, you feel the loneliest imaginable. 

But alas.

It’s still not your place to stay.

—

—

Much, much later, you check your phone after the movie ends and you’re all walking out. While the girls are busy discussing the movie and Taehyung's checking his phone, you're greeted with two very surprising keystrokes.

Yoongi [9:30pm]: :( 

He texted that so long ago. Did something happen?

You [10:34pm]: you ok?

All of you talk for just a little longer. When you finally get into your car, you wave goodbye at everyone before looking at your device again, wondering what the heck warranted this rogue of a text.

Yoongi [10:40pm]: Yeah

Yoongi [10:40pm]: Just miss you

Well, fuck.

Heart clenching, your fingers skirt across the screen.

You [10:45pm]: i miss you too.. i didn’t wanna leave😭

Yoongi [10:45pm]: You did though😔

There are plenty of people in the lot. Many people walking past as you wait in your car. 

And all you can do is stare at your screen. 

Is… Is he drunk?

Yoongi [10:46pm]: So now you have to make it up to me :) 

That catches you so off-guard you scoff at your screen through a smile. 

You [10:46pm]: don’t be a loser!! 

Yoongi [10:46pm]: I’m your loser 

Cheeks hurting from your shy as hell grin, you bite your lip to keep your screams from alerting people in the nearby theatre. 

How dare this man be this bold when your brother is over there! 

If he’s gonna keep this shocking behavior up, who are you to not play into it? You fucking miss him and imagining being there and being yourselves—your true selves—makes your chest clench. 

You [10:46pm]: not today you weren’t :\

And now you have to make the drive to a house that no one's occupying.

This is so hard. So, so hard. 

But you have to keep going until that one day comes. If it ever does. The day you can do whatever you want with the man you’d fight the universe for? No one will know how to react, and frankly you don’t give a shit about that.

And then you wonder.

Does Yoongi feel the same?

Yoongi [10:48pm]: They're still here

Yoongi [10:48pm]: You down to come back?

Oh.

You are.

Yes, yes, yes you are.

Grateful eyes shut, forehead hitting your steering wheel and heart hurting but still burning lovingly.

There’s no fighting how desperately you want to see him. Especially after seeing him so happy earlier today. Of course you’re going to go. You’d cross mountains even if that meant you’d only get to see him from afar. 

Because—and this you know for sure—he would do the same. 

...But that doesn't mean you won't prank him just a little bit.

You [10:49pm]: don't bet on it w ur heart again💕

Buzzing with excitement, you start your car and pull out of the lot, calling your brother and letting him know you’re coming back.

“K! You gonna bring food again?”

Normally, you would say fuck no and hang up. But you’re so elated you get to go back, and imagining Yoongi's shock makes you laugh. “Yeah, yeah, what do y’all want?” 

“Wait, really? Hey! What do we want for dinner—”

“Wait!” You interject, something pinging into your mind and igniting your curiosity. “How are my picks doing?” 

There’s a scuffle on the line, and you can hear your brother complain, Jimin laugh, and a very, very familiar voice answer from your brother’s phone. 

Because Yoongi’s voice drones so beautifully through the speaker, and you can’t stop your cackling when he responds, 

“Turns out Jimin was right.” 

“Damn, I'm the best,” you boast, earning a loud laugh from him and welcoming the way your cheeks hurt with open arms. “Show me that video you were talking about when I get there?”

This is safe to say. It's all you really can say.

There's a little bit of silence before he answers how he can, too.

“Yeah, I will.” 

Mm. Maybe Yoongi does feel the same.

“Nice," you whisper. Lips curved up in hope, you keep your voice neutral, “See you soon!” 

Again, he responds how he's supposed to. And right after, you both hang up exactly as expected.

For now.

“See you soon.” 

—

—

—

fin. :)

-

how did the second 717 drabble go! | join the discord hehe | three tangerines

a/n: love you love you love you. that's really all i can say. but also, here's the video of kim yeji being an absolute badass in may and i cannot stop thinking about her GAHHHHHH and now the guy from turkey?? hello?? this year is so fun and interesting istg!!

[osarina]

ᡣ𐭩 ICARIAN

FEATURING: beast dazai osamu

SUMMARY: dazai had known he was flying too close to the sun, he should have stopped himself while he still had the chance. {wordcount: 11.5k; fem!reader, romance & tragedy}

AUTHOR'S NOTES: installment fiveeeee otherwise known as part 2 of installment four LOL! ugh guys i'm dragging myself thru the trenches right now i'm so miserable - i wasn't even up to posting this today i won't lie but </3 i pulled thru </3 if only barely. fun fact this is actually only a 3 scene chapter but the second scene is just MASSIVE. i wasn't up to restructuring so you guys are just going to get it as it is. this is also unedited because i just wasn't up to it so bear with me regarding mistakes. JUST TO REMIND YOU ALL: the last installment is DELAYED - i have 3 finals next week and haven't had the time to finish it. it will be up by the end of may </3 sorry guys. wow this actually is attempt number three trying to post this correctly - i'm so shot

IMPORTANT NOTE FOR 17 & UNDER FOLLOWING THE SERIES: partially copy and pasted from badlands - if you guys read badlands, you know the deal. y'all knew what you were getting into. this is the smut chapter. but again, i'm not going to ask y'all to not interact/read a whole 12k chapter just because there's 4k words of smut, but i am going to say here the smut is in the SECOND scene. there is very little plot development in the smut itself, so i ask you guys, again, to respectfully scroll past it. i'll make the sentence when the smut starts red like this so you know that's when it starts, and then you can continue reading at the next divider. thank you for understanding! there is NO plot development in the smut, i'll reiterate that at the end where i put the summary in badlands, i restructured to make sure none of it was in it.

SMUT WARNINGS: unprotected sex, dazai cries </3 poor baby, sub!dazai, as always pussy drunk!dazai, bit of overstim on dazai's part too, jfhsuhdfsu i will say it starts on the bathroom floor so that might be a bit gross to some of you but dazai hardly even uses his apartment anyway so trust it's clean. bear with me. it just flowed from there i had to go with it. the story writes itself, i'm only the scribe. LOL let me know if i missed anything, i might have

SEE: UNREAL UNEARTH SERIES MASTERLIST READ: BADLANDS SIDE A

Dazai is hardly listening to the conversation at hand. They’ve been going back and forth for thirty minutes about inconsequential matters. Tolstoy is getting increasingly heated as he goes tit-for-tat with Nabokov, evidently the tripartite alliance between the Russian mafias is not quite enough to quell all of the bad blood that’s simmered between them, but something about the situation isn’t sitting right to Dazai. He can feel it in his gut, swirling in the depths of his chest—something is wrong but he doesn’t know what.

Mishima looks equally put out, gaze trained on Tolstoy and Nabokov’s conversation, occasionally looking back at his executives. Cao seems bored, head tilted back against the red cushions of the round booth as he smokes a cigarette; in all regards, he seems relaxed, but Dazai notices the way the fingers of his free hand are tense on the table, as if he’s bracing himself for something.

Something isn’t right.

Dostoevsky is cunning. Intelligent. He’s been lethally sharp in every universe that the other Dazais have encountered him in. He wouldn’t send Tolstoy and Nabokov into this meeting with them at each other’s throats like this without an ulterior reason. Dazai is missing something critical; he knows it’s not something as simple as wanting to give off the appearance of a divided front as means to get Dazai and Mishima to lower their guard. Nothing is that easy. There’s some ulterior motive that Dazai has to figure out.

Cao’s presence. Tolstoy and Nabokov’s blatant hostility toward one another. Mishima’s words from earlier, warning him that something seems to be brewing, that Tolstoy and Nabokov had been on edge since he arrived at the event hall. Dazai’s head hurts, and he can’t focus, not when you’re in the other room without him.

Already, he feels as if he’s been separated from you for too long, he’d been hoping this meeting was only going to last thirty minutes at most, and it’s been thirty minutes already and hardly any progress has been made. If Dazai didn’t know any better, he’d think that…

He’d think that Tolstoy and Nabokov were stalling.

At once, Dazai starts catching onto the things that he missed. The way Nabokov keeps glancing up at the clock on the wall above Cao. The way Tolstoy’s gaze keeps flickering to his phone. The way Cao’s attention seems to be elsewhere. 

Cao Xueqin. A Dream of Red Mansions. A scrying ability.

His heartbeat slows and Dazai blinks. Once. Twice. Blood roars in his ears as his gaze twists down to where his phone is laying on the table in front of him, on its face. Tachihara should have texted him to let him know that he got to you. Him or Chuuya. He usually reports to Chuuya anyway, so Dazai figured that Chuuya would’ve gotten the confirmation. He turns his head to the side to look at the executive from the corner of his eye, trying to keep his breath as slow and steady and natural as possible when he realizes that Chuuya is frowning with furrowed brows, looking at his phone. Unsure.

Dazia reaches for his own phone, fingers deceptively steady despite the way his insides are curdling with a sudden jolt of anxiety. His eyes zero in on the top right corner of his phone. No signal. Dazai has been to this event hall countless times in this life and dozens of others—there’s always service throughout the building. 

Unless it’s being jammed, that is.

Dazai’s blood runs cold, gaze dragging from his phone to the door that leads to the hallway connecting to the event hall where you are. He feels as if he’s been doused with icy water and lit on fire all at once. For a second, he doesn’t move—he’s not sure if it’s anxiety or fear, or both, but he knows it’s because you’re out there and Dostoevsky is plotting something while trying to keep him out of the picture in this meeting. 

He should have known better. Mishima had assumed that Dostoevsky wasn’t in the building—he had his three best scouts prowling the whole building trying to place the real leader of the tripartite but had failed. Nabokov had apparently told him that Dostoevsky had to stay back to handle residual business in Russia, a blatant lie, one that has had Mishima on edge all night.

The one with the overcoat. The clown.

Dazai stills as he remembers the white haired man who hung around Dostoevsky in some of the other universes. Not all of the other Dazais encountered him—in fact, Dazai thinks there were only half a dozen other universes where he met the man, he can hardly remember his name, but when he did…

Spatial linking. Of course Mishima’s men hadn’t been able to hunt down Dostoevsky. Dostoevsky would’ve predicted that the Sun and Steel would seek out the mastermind with their scouts. He used the clown to enter the building without anyone knowing after the scouts finished their hunt.

Dazai had missed a critical piece on the board.

Dazai rises to his feet abruptly, mind numb, eyes distant, and lips parted to speak but no words escape them. Tolstoy and Nabokov exchange a sharp, pointed look, pausing in their hostilities, and Dazai knows. He knows.

Dostoevsky is going after you. 

He hears Chuuya and Kouyou calling after him but it sounds like a distant buzz. His throat feels clogged, his heartbeat is erratic and uncontrollable, his ears are ringing. His surroundings are blurry, a part of him doesn’t even know where he is: the event hall, your apartment, in the cafe below the Armed Detective Agency, it’s all blurring together.

This is it.

His vision swims and his head spins. The hallway seems impossibly long, much longer than it was to walk to the room. He can hear Chuuya spitting curses, scrambling out of the room, and he’s sure that his other executives and the other mafiosos aren’t far behind, but Dazai’s mind is on a single track. He doesn’t know how fast he’s moving—fast enough that Chuuya is chasing after him but can’t catch him. Something is heavy and cool in his hand—his gun—numb fingers moving to click the safety off.

This is it.

He might enter that hall and find you dead, slumped over the bar he’d last seen you sitting at, blood splattered across your face. Limp, cold. Just like you were on your bedroom floor. In the booth at the cafe. He’s pulling you from the water. He’s screaming for Yosano when he’s with the Agency. He’s screaming for Mori when he’s with the Mafia. Sometimes he’s alone, and he has no one to call for help, so all he can do is hold you and cry. 

It’s his fault. He knew this would happen from the beginning. He knew that being with you would lead you to the same fate that you’ve met in every other universe because of him. He knew that being with you would be your death sentence, but he couldn’t stop himself. 

His vision swims again, the red and gold patterns on the walls of the event hall are indistinct blobs, he feels someone try to grab his wrist—Chuuya, probably—but Dazai rips himself free and pushes himself into the event hall.

He ignores the eyes on him and the way people all instinctively move away from the sight of him with his gun out, he’s sure he must look deranged but he’s hardly even keeping himself grounded to this reality. Pages pile around him, every single one has variations of the same scene that’s haunted him for almost eight years written on it; one is being written before his eyes, he can see the words appearing on the blank sheet. He needs to find you before it’s complete. He has to stop it.

His eyes cut across the room, toward the bar he’d last seen you at, and you’re there. You’re there. It’s almost enough to make him scramble to put his gun away, cover up his steep spiral of paranoia even if you are looking right in his direction and see the gun in his hand. He can hardly come to terms with the consequences of this, how you’re seeing him right now, because his gaze tunnels right in on the person sitting next to you and his world comes to a halt. 

He lifts the gun. He ignores as people shriek and scramble to the edges of the room. He ignores the look on your face as he moves closer to where you’re sitting with Fyodor Dostoevsky. He ignores the way Chuuya and Kouyou and Piano Man have all skid to a stop somewhere behind him, trying to figure out what to do. Dostoevsky’s hand is mere inches away from brushing against your body, it would only take the slightest movement and you would be dead. It would be a game of who’s faster: Dazai’s trigger finger or Dostoevsky’s ability. Dazai’s always been quick to pull the trigger but now, faced with your life on the line, when he should be at his best because of what’s at risk, he finds himself scared and unsteady. 

He can’t lose you. He can’t watch it happen.

He paces toward you slowly, steadily, he swears each step he takes echoes across the suddenly silent event hall. He doesn’t stop until the muzzle of his gun is pressed against the back of Dostoevsky’s head.

“Stand up.” Dazai’s voice is deceptively cold and steady for the rage and fear that’s clawing at his chest, threatening to take control.

Dostoevsky turns his head to the side to look at Dazai, faint amusement in his eyes. “Are you sure you really want to do this here, Dazai?” 

The mocking lilt his voice takes is almost enough alone for Dazai to pull the trigger. And if that wasn’t, the way Dostoevsky smiles at Dazai like he’s won is certainly enough to push him over the edge.

Before he can, he feels Chuuya grab his bicep hard. 

“You can’t do this here,” he hisses quietly. “If you kill him now on neutral territory, we’ll have all of the mafias in the Eastern Hemisphere coming after you and the government on your ass. You can’t do this here and you can’t do it in public.”

Dazai doesn’t care. He doesn’t care how many mafias come after him for killing on neutral territory when invited as a guest. He doesn’t care that the government will come after him for such a blatant murder. All he cares about is getting Dostoevsky away from you.

“Chuuya is right,” Kouyou murmurs, low enough for only Dazai to overhear. “We can cover this up as is. If you pull the trigger, there’s no hiding what happened here. You know better than this, boy. You won’t be the only person this affects if you do this. Think of her. She will be implicated for coming here with you. Lower the gun and let us handle sweeping this under the rug.”

Dazai can’t even bring himself to look at you. He’s scared of what he might find. But he doesn’t even consider lowering the gun, not until Dostoevsky raises his hands and slips off the bar stool to step away from you. Even when he does, Dazai keeps it trained on him, still tempted to blow his head right off his shoulders.

“I meant no harm,” Dostoevsky says smoothly. “I was intrigued, wanted to know the girl who’s managed to capture your interest. I must say, I see the appeal. Beautiful and intelligent, you have quite the eye, Dazai.”

Dazai’s lips stretch into a smile that doesn’t reach his eyes. It’s not kind, and it’s mildly feral, and Dazai’s pretty sure he must look entirely deranged from the way Dostoevsky’s eyes widen in a mixture of surprise and entertainment, just enough to be noticeable.

“If you ever go near her again, I’ll put a bullet through your fucking skull, Dostoevsky.”

He should do it now. He should. Fuck Chuuya and Kouyou’s warnings, he should put a bullet in his head and be done with it, move onto handling Christie so that both of the major threats to your life are gone. But he can’t. If he takes this opportunity now, if he kills Dostoevsky so blatantly on neutral territory, the Pale Flame and Three Deaths will come at him in full force, and Dazai is sure the Red Chamber won’t be far behind them with Cao’s recent interest in expanding his business into Japan. And you’ll be caught in the crossfire of all of it, Dazai has ensured that by bringing you here. Dostoevsky must have accounted for all of this. He knew that Dazai would be put in a situation where either way, whether he kills him or lets him go, he’d be throwing himself onto a blade. 

Is that it? Killing you wasn’t the goal, was it? Exposing Dazai was. Forcing him into this impossible decision.

Did he really just fall into Dostoevsky’s hands so easily? Even with all of the forewarning the other universes have given him?

It’s you. You always make him reckless, his mind is never as sharp whenever you’re involved, muddled with thoughts of you, plagued with spirals of paranoia and anxiety that make him double guess himself. It’s like this in every universe—he becomes stupid, he becomes rash, he becomes careless. It’s you.

You.

Suddenly very hyper aware of your eyes on him, Dazai lowers his gun, gaze turning in your direction. Dostoevsky lets out one last snide comment, something toward you, telling you ‘don’t you see’ but Dazai doesn’t even process it, heart in his throat as he looks at you. He doesn’t know what he expects—fear, betrayal, even anger. He’s not prepared for the emptiness. He can’t read a single emotion on your face, your eyes eerily void of any feeling as you stare at him. 

He says your name quietly. His voice cracks. He should be embarrassed, so many people watching the scene play out, so many of his enemies and allies and subordinates, and he’s staring at you like a lost child with an unsteady voice, but he can’t bring himself to care. The fingers of his free hand are trembling, and the ones wrapped around the grip of his gun are so wound so tight that his knuckles are white. 

You’ve never looked at him like this before. Not in any universe. 

He thinks he might throw up. 

You’ve been mad at him before, scowling at him whenever he distracts you from your work and snarling whenever he makes messes that he never cleans up, but your eyes always stay soft in spite of the venom you spit. He’s seen betrayal on your face a few times before, screaming at him through tears when he got a bit too close to a successful attempt, cursing at him for trying to leave you, but you hold him so gently that it makes up for the harsh words. You’ve been scared of him once, when he lashed out so badly during one of his slumps that he nearly hurt you, but even then, you were more concerned for him then you were scared for yourself, speaking to him softly to settle him down.

He’s never seen this. He wants it to go away. Desperately.

“I’d like to leave,” you finally say after a few moments of silence, and your voice is so vacant of emotion that it leaves him feeling even more sick.

Dazai nods, because he can’t bring himself to speak. 

He holds his hand out for you, waiting for you to take it.

You don’t.

You haven’t spoken a word since the event hall, and Dazai doesn’t know what to do. He used to find peace in silence—for years, he’d become accustomed to it, isolating himself from everyone around him, keeping everyone at arm’s length. The most he ever spoke was a few sentences to give out orders to his executives; his voice had become hoarse and raspy over the years of self-imposed isolation, unused to being utilized. But the past few months with you have utterly obliterated any semblance of comfort Dazai had found in solidarity. 

It’s become entirely intolerable, the silence is making him sick with anxiety; he has hundreds of lifetimes worth of memories with you and he can’t even vaguely predict what to expect from you right now. You’ve been tense and cold since leaving the event hall. Dazai tried to open up a conversation in the car once but found himself promptly ignored. Chuuya tried to say something to you but only received the same cold shoulder. Even Albatross tried to lighten the mood when the four of you got in the car, but all you did was stare out the window with your back to Dazai. 

Now, you’re back up in his penthouse with him. You haven’t sat down. You’ve hardly budged from where you’re standing near the elevator—Dazai wonders if you’re scared of him now, if you want to be as close as possible to the only exit in fear of him lashing out at you. The thought makes him even more nauseous.

He doesn’t even know what to do with himself. He doesn’t want to sit down, he’s uncomfortable standing in the living room, waiting for you to say something, and he can’t bring himself to try to break the silence because if there’s one thing he learned very swiftly, it’s that he can’t handle being ignored by you. He’d prefer anger and hate to the stonewall iciness you’re giving him.

He can’t even fathom what you might be thinking right now. You’re not looking at him. You’re staring at the window that looks over the city, he can see the bright flashing lights from Cosmo World flickering faintly in your eyes. It’s so quiet that he can hear the distant honking of horns, police sirens coming from the streets below. 

He just wants you to say something, do something. Yell at him. Scream at him. Hit him or punch him. Anything is better than this. 

It feels like an eternity before you finally move away from the elevator. You still don’t speak, but Dazai watches raptly as you make your way into the kitchen. You fling open the cabinets, searching for something, and Dazai’s lips part to ask what you’re looking for but he decides against it. You stop with your jerky movements when you catch sight of the numerous bottles of sake Dazai has stored in his cabinets—room temperature, because Dazai can’t stand cold drinks, they make his teeth hurt. He watches you struggle to uncap it and his body itches to move toward you to help but he knows it won’t do any good. It’ll probably just piss you off more.

When you get the cap off, you’re immediately bringing it to your lips. One. Two. Three. Four large gulps before you put the bottle back down on the counter and turn to look at him. The emptiness in your eyes is gone, replaced by something caught between hurt and anger and betrayal. It makes his heart sink, but he thinks it’s preferable to the emptiness.

“You lied to me,” you finally rasp out, shaking your head as you pace behind the counter. There’s a whole length of a room separating the two of you and Dazai longs for your touch but he forces himself to stuff his hands in his pockets and keep still. “You lied to me, Dazai.”

“Osamu,” he corrects quietly without thinking, not liking the switch up. He’d finally gotten you to call him by his given name earlier in the night, he doesn’t want to lose it so quickly.

For the briefest of seconds, the hurt and betrayal in your eyes disappears and only fire rages in them. “Dazai,” you spit out pointedly. 

Dazai almost draws back, not having expected that. In all of the other universes, you’ve always been gentle with him even when you’re livid. You speak his name softly, even with a tight jaw and fisted hands—his given name, you’ve never used his surname against him like this before. Probably because most of the major fights he had with you in those other lives, it was months into the relationship; it’s only been a few weeks in this life so of course-

Dazai realizes, a bit dizzy, that he’s about to lose you.

You found out too soon. You found out through Dostoevsky, through Dazai's own loss of control. You found out in the worst possible way and you found out too soon.

Dazai is about to lose you.

“Okay,” he murmurs, not wanting to test your temper anymore, giving in as a means to try to soothe your anger, regardless of how much it might wound him because being wounded is nothing compared to losing you. “Dazai.”

His compliance seems to do nothing to quell your anger from the way you just scoff and shake your head again, looking away from him. You stare out over the city, dozens of emotions cloud your expression but Dazai still can’t predict what you might do next. He feels out of his depth, in murky waters with an anchor tied to his ankle.

“I knew it, you know?” you finally say quietly. ��I knew it from the beginning, honestly, but I kept making excuses for you. I mean, the guns. The secrecy. You weren’t really subtle about it. Did you think I was stupid, or something?” 

“Never,” Dazai says honestly, without hesitation. He sees your gaze flicker down to the ground at his words, but you don’t make any move to speak again so he takes the opportunity to, in hopes that you’ll finally listen. “You’re the smartest woman I know. I-”

You interrupt him with a sharp laugh, it’s loud and almost cruel, and Dazai turns in on himself at the sound of it. He feels small and unsteady, like a child who’s being scolded by a parent. When you look at him again, your eyes are wide and wild, half-crazed in sheer disbelief. You don’t believe him. Of course, you don’t. It’s plainly displayed on your face. And why would you anyway? He’s given you every reason not to. 

“If you think I’m so smart, why didn’t you think I would figure it out?”

He tries to say that he knew you would. That he’s been living in fear for weeks that you’d finally see him for what he is but when he opens his mouth to say it, no words leave him. Like he’s frozen in fear, ice crawling through his veins, stones weighing on his tongue; he can’t respond, and he knows that he’s only condemning himself more. He tries to force something out but he can’t even make the barest hint of a sound. The mindkiller. He’s never responded well to fear, much less when you’re involved. 

You click your tongue, as if to solidify that his silence proves your point, or maybe you know what he can't bring himself to say and you just don't believe him. His stomach churns again, and dread spreads through chest when you say: “If I’m so smart, and I was going to figure it out anyway, why didn’t you just tell me?”

“You would have left.” Dazai is finally able to speak, but he speaks the wrong answer, clearly, from the way you let out another humorless, breathless laugh, eyes wide in disbelief. You look at him like he’s the most audacious man in the entire world. Maybe he is.

“Yeah, I would have,” you agree and Dazai flinches. “Without hesitation, without even looking back. And now, I can’t because you made me fall in love with you without even warning me about what I was getting myself into.”

Dazai’s heart should be leaping through the roof at your confession, but if anything, he feels even worse. His throat feels clogged and his chest feels so heavy. You’ve never regretted falling in love with him before. Not in any lifetime.

“I’m sorry,” he breathes out, because he doesn’t know what else to say. The words are still foreign on his tongue, he doesn’t think he’s ever apologized to someone in this life before the last twenty-four hours.

“No, you’re not,” you say bitterly, looking away. “Isn’t this what you wanted? For me to care so much about you that when you finally tell me who you are and what you do, I won’t be able to leave.”

Dazai stares at you, lost. He remembers how just the other day he was finding comfort in the way you could read him so easily, knowing he didn’t have to speak for you to know what he needed at the moment. He thinks he hates it now, because you’re finally reading deeper into his soul and seeing him for the sick, twisted monster he really is. Just like he feared from day one. Manipulative. Selfish. Undeserving. His fingers tremble in his pockets, nails biting into his palm so deep that he can feel blood trickling down his skin, but not even the stinging pain can distract him from the numbness spreading through him. 

“I didn’t-”

“Didn’t what?” you interrupt him. “You didn’t think I’d be upset? You didn’t think I’d be angry? Or maybe you didn’t think it would happen this soon? Is that it, Dazai? You thought you’d have more time to win me over in hopes that I’d take the news in stride. News flash, Dazai, no amount of time or charm would have made me accept this easily. Accept you easily. How could I ever accept any of this?”

Nausea rises to his throat so suddenly that he almost gags. He feels dizzy, taking a step back so that his back is against the wall, keeping him steady. Your last words echo through his head over and over again, he can’t escape them. The one person who’s always accepted him in every lifetime, the only person he was ever able to find a home in—how could I ever accept you? 

His cheeks feel wet, his eyes are wide as he stares at you. He doesn’t know how to respond to that. He doesn’t even think he could if he knew how to respond to that. His lungs are burning and his throat feels so swollen that even just the thought of trying to speak is painful. 

You let out a sharp breath, caught between a hysterical laugh and a sob as you press your hands to either side of your neck and pace across the kitchen. “What am I supposed to do, Dazai?” you ask, voice hoarse. “What the fuck am I supposed to do?”

He thinks it might be a rhetorical question, but he still forces out: “Don’t leave me.”

You scoff again, louder and harsher this time. Dazai’s eyes flutter shut as if to futilely minimize the blow. “I wish leaving you was still an option for me.”

Oh. He’s going to throw up. 

He wants to blame it on the alcohol he drank earlier in the night. He wants to blame it on the stress of the past few weeks. He wants to blame it on anything but this, even though he knows damn well that this conversation is what triggered the bile that rises to his throat. He forces himself to move, nearly tripping over his feet to get to the bathroom because he doesn’t want you to see him vomiting up his guts.

He hardly makes it to the toilet, crashing to his knees and clutching at the seat as he dry heaves. Nothing comes up—he hasn’t eaten enough the past few days to have anything solid in him, too busy with preparations—but he can’t stop gagging, eyes stinging with tears and throat burning. He doesn’t know how long he stays crumpled at the toilet, losing track of time entirely, a part of him just wants to stay there forever so he doesn’t have to go back out and face you. 

Evidently, he doesn’t have to go back out and face you because you come to him. 

He’s gagging again when he feels your hand brush his back, hesitantly at first and then firmly. Your touch is warm, and Dazai thinks he must look pathetic as he turns his head to the side to look at you. Your expression isn’t as harsh now, your eyes are still conflicted but your face is softer. After a moment, you take a seat on the floor next to him—you don’t say anything, but you let out a soft puff of air as you slip your arm around his shoulders once he stops heaving. 

He crumbles into your chest, body collapsing against yours. You wrap your arms around him, and at once, the numbness starts to fade away. His fingers clutch at your dress desperately, afraid that you’re going to disappear, but you only hold him tighter. You bury your face in his hair, forehead pressed to the top of his head.

“You’re so unfair, Osamu.” Your voice cracks, you’ve lost all of your fire, but Dazai finds no solace in it.

“I know,” he croaks out, throat scratchy and voice wavering. “I know.”

And then words are spilling from his lips before he can stop them, jumbled and hardly intelligible and he’s not even sure that you’re understanding what he’s saying but he can’t stop himself: “I tried. I tried to stay away, I tried so hard, you don’t understand. I knew it would turn out like this, I knew I would ruin you so I tried to stay away, but I’m selfish. I’m so selfish, I’m sorry. I’m sorry, I knew better, I’m going to-you’re going to-”

The panic is returning, the words he wants to say but can’t push out are too damning: I’m going to get you killed. You’re going to die because of me. Dazai is breathing but the air isn’t getting to his lungs, his chest burns, and now even with your arms around him, the numbness is returning. It’s rapid now, spreading from his chest to his arms, down his abdomen to his legs; it’s going to consume him entirely, he can feel it, he can-

Oh.

Your lips press to his. Tilting his head back to angle his face up toward you, you lean down and press your lips against his, swallowing his words, his air, his panic. One of your hands cup his cheek while the other cradles the back of his head, Dazai can hardly kiss you back, his lips feel cold and prickly, but his eyes flutter shut as your lips move slowly and carefully against his.

Not for the first time, he thinks that he doesn’t deserve this. Especially not now. He tastes something wet and salty against his lips—he doesn’t know if you’re the one crying, or if he is, and he doesn’t want to know, so he forces himself to move. His arm feels heavy and clunky, and his fingers feel stiff, but he’s able to bring them up to your face, palms cupping your cheeks as the tips of his fingers tangle into your hair. He kisses you until his lungs are screaming for air, and even as he starts to feel lightheaded, he kisses you still, because your lips are the only thing able to push away the numbness overwhelming him. 

When you break away from him, you keep your foreheads pressed together, nose nudging against his. You share the same thin sliver of air and Dazai feels dizzy, he wants to kiss you again but he doesn’t think he’s capable of moving yet, so he only stays crumbled in your arms, waiting for you to grace him with your lips again. 

“I wish I still had the chance to be a better man,” Dazai says hoarsely, honestly, gaze searching yours desperately. “I would be. For you.”

Please believe me, he thinks to himself helplessly, because it’s the truth. He would try to be. For your sake. He might fail, he might be too far gone, his soul corrupted beyond salvation and his blood black beyond purification, but he would try. He would try so hard for you. But he can’t, not in this lifetime, not without risking everything he’s strove to protect since coming in contact with the Book. He has to stay the criminal, the monster, the demon so that you and Odasaku can live out your lives here. Until Dostoevsky, Christie, and any other person that could turn out to be a threat to either of you are killed, Dazai has to keep playing this role. He has to. 

You don’t respond. Dazai thinks it’s because you don’t believe him and it makes him feel sick again. His lips part to repeat himself but you only press yours against his, as if to silence him. 

You don’t believe him, the kiss confirms it, and his heart sinks but he can’t even bring himself to protest, to insist that it’s true. Instead, he decides if he can’t prove it through his words, he’ll prove it through his actions. Even though his limbs still feel leaden and clumsy, he forces himself into a better position, sitting up a bit more and bringing both of his hands up to cup your cheeks. He tilts your head back, leaning into you and slowly pressing you back against the floor and distantly Dazai recognizes that this is not the place for this but the thought is only fleeting, he’s too lost in the feeling of your lips against his and your body pressed to him.

And you let him ease you back against the floor. You let him tilt your head back and when his tongue darts out to swipe against your bottom lip, you part your lips for him. He doesn’t have to knock your knees apart, because you spread them just enough for him to slot his hips between them to keep your bodies flush. He wonders if you can feel how clunky his movements are—his fingers still feel heavy against your face and he can hardly hold himself up above you. He hopes he’s not crushing you with his weight, he might be, but you don’t seem to care. 

He pulls back to ask if you’re okay with this but you chase his lips and he lets out a soft, muffled noise when you tug gently at his bottom lip and bring your free hand up to cup the back of his head, fingers tangling with his hair, pulling him back down to you. You drag your lips from his to slide them down his neck to the edge of his bandages. He twitches a bit at the feeling, wondering if you’re going to ask to take them off, but instead, you just trail your lips back upward, nipping at his jaw, and he shudders.

And then he finally hesitates, pulling away and not letting you chase after this time. He weighs his options in his head anxiously. He feels like he should do something, that he owes something—a lowering of a mask, a show of vulnerability, you’re entitled to at least that much after everything he’s done. Aren't you?

You give him a curious look and he tries to respond—he does, his lips part for him to speak but nothing leaves them. He swallows thickly, eyes fluttering shut as he braces himself before trying again, bringing one of his hands to yours and wrapping his fingers around it gently, lifting it from his chest to the bandages covering the left side of his face.

“Take them off,” he tells you, voice hoarse and shakier than he would have liked.

Your eyes widen, and he shudders a bit when your fingers smooth against the bandages, uncertain. “Are you sure?” you ask him softly, bringing your other hand to his opposite cheek, cupping his face in your hands again, eyes searching to make sure he means it.

Is he sure? Dazai doesn’t know. He can’t speak again as he stares down at you; a part of him is nervous, and he doesn’t even understand why. You already know who he is, what he is, but a part of him still fears that once you actually see him, something will change. And it’s ridiculous, so many other universes you’ve seen him without his bandages and you’ve never made him feel uncomfortable about it. But you’ve also never used his surname against him during an argument in the other universes, you’ve never regretted loving him, and you’ve certainly never wished you could leave him. 

So, yeah, he thinks the anxiety of you removing his bandages and then seeing him in a different light might be more of a possibility in this universe than any other one. His body is more covered in scars than not, and he knows it’s not attractive; he thinks if he sees your expression shift in a negative way when the bandages come off, it might shatter him entirely.

Just the face bandages then, he bargains with himself, swallowing thickly as he forces himself to nod. You sit up from where you’re still laying back against the tiles, propping yourself on your knees to shift closer to him. 

Dazai thinks his heart might be in his throat when he feels your fingers unclip the clasp holding the bandages together around the left side of his face, eyes fluttering shut as you slowly unwind them from around his head. He isn’t sure why he’s so nervous for this part—there are no scars on his face, but he still feels distinctly vulnerable, like he’s giving you a window into himself that might reveal more than he means to. He can barely breathe as he feels the last of the bandages fall to the floor, he can hear you push them to the side. 

Still, he keeps his eyes shut, counting each second that passes. He’s anxious, can’t even bring himself to look at you until you cup his cheeks again. 

“Look at me,” you say quietly.

Dazai does as you ask, he always does. He doesn’t know what he expects when he opens his eyes to meet your gaze; he prepares himself for the worst, for a twisted expression or thinly veiled pity, but he finds none of it. Rather, your eyes are soft and fond, tracing over his face, looking between each of his. He can feel the pads of your fingers gently brushing over his cheekbones, tracing absent patterns.

“You’re so handsome, Osamu,” you whisper, one of your hands sliding behind his head, intertwining with his hair. “Why do you wear them?” 

Dazai doesn’t know how to answer that. His throat feels swollen at your words, eyes a bit misty and fingers trembling against your thighs. Instead, he breathes out, “Kiss me.”

And you do. 

God, when you kiss him again, it’s so intense that it has his head spinning. He doesn’t know how long he sits there kissing you, back against the cabinets with you half in his lap. It could be a few seconds, or a few minutes, or a few hours—he has no concept of time whenever his lips are against yours. It’s only when you press your hand against his shoulder, murmuring for him to get up, that he finally pulls himself away from you.

Dazai forces himself to push up to his feet—it’s much more difficult than he thought it would be, nearly tripping over his own feet, but you follow him up to your feet, steadying him when he almost tumbles over. You bring your hand up to rest against his cheek, fingers gently toying with the edges of his hair. He leans into your touch, eyes fluttering shut for just a moment before he forces himself to look you in the eye. 

“You’re so frustrating,” you say softly, but all of the fire is gone, replaced by that same soft look you’ve directed toward him—not him—hundreds of times before. “You are so frustrating, Osamu.”

His throat feels tight again, the sound of his name on your lips causing a wave of warmth to spread through him, the numbness slowly subsiding.

“I know,” he whispers, swallowing thickly, and you sigh, gaze averting to the side for a moment before you look back at him. He still can’t fathom what you might be thinking and it scares him.

But then you kiss him again, your other hand coming up to his other cheek and his hands fly to your waist, holding you close. You walk him backward, out of the bathroom and into the hallway. His back hits the wall and you press your body close to his, and this time it’s you whose tongue is darting out to brush his bottom lip, urging him to part his lips for you. He does, and he thinks he might be in heaven when he feels your tongue dip into his mouth, sliding against his tongue. His eyes flutter shut, rolling back just a bit when you trace the back of his teeth with your tongue before sucking gently on his bottom lip.

Your hands slide down from his face to his chest, over his jacket, down to his waist. Your fingers hook in his belt loops and Dazai groans as your lips ghost from his down to his jaw, breath shaky as trail slow, wet kisses to the sensitive spot behind his ear. He can hardly do anything but follow along as you guide him from where he’s been backed against the wall into his bedroom, dazed and entirely consumed by your touch. His head already feels a bit fuzzy, breath hitching as your teeth graze his pulse point, kissing down to the edge of his bandages and then across his throat.

He barely even knows where he is until he feels the back of his knees hit his bed and he topples backward until he’s laying flat on it. His chest is heaving, head dizzy and breath shaky as you straddle his waist. You don’t kiss him again and Dazai wants to drag you down for another but he can’t even bring himself to move. His body refuses to cooperate, nervous that he’s going to make the wrong move.

“Do you want this?” you finally ask after a moment, voice raspy as one of your hands squeeze his gently, as if to get his attention. 

Dazai’s brows furrow a bit, lips parting to respond but for a second, no words leave them. You wait with the patience of a saint as Dazai tries to process what you’re asking and respond to it. After what feels like an eternity, he nods once. Of course, he wants it. You search his eyes as if to make sure he’s not just agreeing to agree, and once you’re satisfied, you continue you with: 

“And do you trust me?” you ask softly, your gaze gentle as it searches his face for the next answer.

Dazai doesn’t hesitate this time, and he speaks as he breathes out, “With everything.”

He can’t tell what you’re thinking, but your expression is still soft and your touch is still gentle as you run your thumb over his knuckles. Dazai doesn’t think he’ll ever get used to the gentleness you show him. You lift your hand to cup his cheek and he leans into your touch, throat spasming beneath his bandages as he waits for you to say something. 

“Let me take the lead then,” you say quietly, his eyes widen a bit at your words. “I want to try something.”

He watches you carefully for a moment, guarded and studying you. He thinks this might be another first, and the thought alone makes him feel a bit giddy because he can’t recall any other life where you’ve ever been the one to take the lead like this, especially the first time the two of you sleep together. You look a bit anxious the longer he goes without responding, so he nods and says, “Okay.”

He’s pliant beneath your touch as you lean down to press your lips against his; he lets out a soft, muffled noise when he feels your hips shift, unintentionally grinding down a bit on his straining cock. He’s more hesitant this time in the way his lips move against yours, unsure of what to do with himself. His fingers twitch from where they're resting on the bed, itching to grab your hips but not wanting to make the wrong move.

This has happened every time one of you tries to take the next step, either he gets interrupted or he ends up getting cold feet because he’s scared of doing the wrong thing and making you uncomfortable. And it’s ridiculous because Dazai has so many memories, he should know at least vaguely what you like and what you don’t like but he thinks having the memories are a double-edged sword because he overwhelms himself if what ifs: what if he assumes you like something and you end up not liking it in this universe, what if he does something that you only liked after the two of you have been together for a while and you’re uncomfortable with him doing it because you’re not as comfortable with him. Maybe Dazai is just overthinking it all but how can he not when you’re involved. He wants everything to be perfect for you. 

“Is this okay?” you whisper, separating your lips from his just enough for him to answer your question. Your breath mingles with his and Dazai can hardly think straight; it’s hot, dizzying, there’s something so intimate about it that it makes his body fuzzy.

“Yeah,” he says, eyelashes fluttering as he looks up at you. “It’s okay.”

You kiss him again. His lips move against yours desperately, needy, he’d be embarrassed if you weren’t matching his energy, but you are. He can feel your fingers tugging at his hair, your hips grinding down against his. Every time you start to pull away, he lifts his head from where it’s laying flush against the pillows, chasing your lips. 

He needs you. His hands slide from your thighs to your waist, keeping your body pressed to his. He’s needed you since the day he came in contact with the Book and learned about you, since the day he met you at the club, maybe even since the day he was born even if he hadn’t known it at the time. He thinks his entire life has led to this, to the two of you being together; your souls have been entangled since the moment you were born and he isn’t sure how he ever thought a life without you was possible. 

“I need you,” he gasps against your lips, hips jerking up just a bit to try to alleviate the pressure building in his lower abdomen, desperate to reach down and unbutton his slacks, but wanting you to make the first move.

Whatever nerves that have made him get cold feet all of the other times the two of you have tried to take the next stop are long gone. You don’t give him any time to wonder if he’s doing the wrong thing—the fingers of one of your hands intertwining with his dark locks, just tight enough to make him hiss into your mouth, eyes rolling back at the pleasant sting. Your other hand slides across his chest, even through his dress shirt, your fingertips seem to scorch through to his skin, leaving his body tingling everywhere you touch.

“You have me,” you tell him, breathless, and Dazai can’t bite back the noise that slips from his lips, wanton and obscene, borderline pornographic—if he was any more coherent, he might be embarrassed but he can’t find it in him. Not when he’s finally getting what he’s wanted after all of this time. 

His hands fly down to his slacks, he fumbles with the button and zipper before yanking them down just enough to free his cock and he watches as you sit back on his thighs, eyes wide and lips parted as your gaze focuses in on his cock, watching as the leaking precum dribbles down his length, alongside the vein running along the underside of his cock. 

“Please,” he breathes out, fingers biting into your thighs as he bunches your dress up to your hips, another low moan spilling from his lips just at the thought of what’s about to happen, lashes fluttering.

You don’t even take off your panties, clearly driven by the same desperation that he is as you slide them to the side and position yourself above his cock and Dazai gnaws at his bottom lip when he feels the tip pressing against your entrance. He can feel how wet you are already, so drenched that your slick is dripping down the length of his cock. His hips stutter up instinctively, but instead of pushing inside, his cock slides between your folds and he whimpers, arm flying to cover the lower half of his face. You don’t let him, fingers wrapping around his wrist to pull his arm from his face and pin it to the mattress above him.

“Don’t hide yourself,” you say softly.

Dazai thinks there must be stars in his eyes as he looks up at you. You’re so beautiful, lips parted as you pant softly, an adoring expression on your face as you look down at him. He loves you. He loves you, god, he loves you more than he’s ever loved anything in his life; he thinks that nothing the other Dazais ever felt for any of the other yous could ever compare to how he feels for you.

When his tip starts to push into your tight hole, all he can let out is another loud, lewd noise; his head falls back against the pillows. His ears are ringing, but distantly, he can hear you gasp. His vision is blurry as he forces himself to look up at you but Dazai thinks you look otherworldly with your head tilted back as his cock starts to stretch you out, lips swollen and wet from the kisses you’d shared. He thinks he must look insane, pupils blown wide and eyes wild as he tries to focus on the sight of you. All of the clever wheels that usually turn within his mind are crumbling.

His fingertips leave crescents in your thighs as you sink down on his cock slowly—too slow, it leaves his head dizzy as your warmth slowly envelops his length. He’s imagined this so many times before. Dozens. Hundreds. He has so many memories of the feeling of your body flush to his, thighs over his shoulders as he fucks you deep and slow, swallowing your moans, but he thinks that nothing compares to this, the sight of you above him, watching your body tremble and face shift as his cock stretches you out. He barely refrains from letting out a string of strangled curses, barely able to hold his eyes open to watch you. 

You give yourself a moment to adjust, and when you do, you look down at Dazai. He thinks he must look a mess—chest heaving, breath erratic, eyes heavy and lidded and entirely glazed over—but he doesn’t care, not with the way your hand slides up his abdomen, fingers tracing patterns along the bandages covering his body. You look beautiful—you always look beautiful—but you look extra beautiful right now, and he thinks he could stare at you forever and never tire of it. 

Experimentally, you roll your hips—it’s still slow, agonizingly slow—and Dazai throws his head back, another obscene moan spilling from  his lips.

“Fuck,” he gasps, his fingers falling from your thighs to twist the sheets below him, knuckles white. “Feels so good. So good.”

You let out a hum that’s caught between a moan and agreement as you continue the slow rolls of your hips, hands sliding up and down his abdomen in a way that’s deceptively innocent and soothing compared to how his cock is dragging along your walls. His body shudders at the feeling of it, heat pooling in his abdomen so quickly that it has his whole body tensing as he tries to push it away. 

“You’re so perfect.” Words spill from his lips, more of a babble than anything else as you lean down to ghost your lips over his jaw, nibbling over the bandages covering his Adam’s apple. It bobs beneath your teeth as he lets out another shaky noise. “S’like you’re made for me. I’d do anything for you. Anything. You know that, right? Anything you want, it’s yours.”

He doesn’t know what to do with his hands, clawing at the sheets and occasionally reaching for your thighs, and he doesn’t know what to do with his body, hips jerking up at an erratic pace, like he’s trying to meet your pace but his body simply can’t match the slow rolls of your hips, desperate for more. He doesn’t know how you’re so put together—maybe you’re not, he can see through a blurry vision how your lashes are fluttering with each roll of your hips, breath shaky, but you’re just not as far gone as he already is.

“Anything?” you murmur, and he can feel your lips curve up against his neck.

“Anything.” His breath hitches, fingers reaching for your hips as he rocks his up into you, a desperate attempt to get you to pick up the pace. “‘d give you the whole world, burn it for you, anything you want, I’d give it to you.”

His hands slide up from your thighs to your waist as you lean down to press your lips against his in a deceptively innocent kiss. He tries to chase your lips as you straighten up but you don’t let him, one of your hands curling around his throat—not choking him, but firm enough that it goes right to his cock, lips parting in a silent moan—while the other braces back on his thigh.

He thinks that nothing could have prepared him for the feeling of you picking up the pace. His breath hitches, he chokes over a moan, stars sparkle in his vision as the tip of his cock presses deep inside of you. You sigh out his name and Dazai thinks this might be the closest he ever gets to heaven: you on top of him, cock buried to the hilt in your cunt, the sight of your blissed out face above him as his head spins. 

“Oh, fuck,” Dazai cries out, back arching and hand flying to cover his face again but the hand you have on his thigh flies forward to snatch his wrist before he can, pinning it back above his head. Dazai’s eyes roll back, you’re leaning over him entirely now, leaning most of your weight on the hand that’s pinning his wrist but the new angle adds pressure onto how you’re squeezing his neck, paring his airways just enough to make his lungs burn. “More. Faster, fuck, I-ah-”

His voice falls off into another moan, head falling to the side to press his cheek against the pillow. He thinks drool is starting to pool at the corner of his lips but he doesn’t care, he can’t even think at this point, too lost in the lewd sound of skin-on-skin, the sloppiness of his cock fucking deep in your cunt, your soft moans and gasps, lost in the feeling of your tight walls clamping down on his cock, the warmth, the wetness, your fingers digging into his wrist and the sides of his neck. He wants to tell you that he needs more but the words are garbled, entirely unintelligible. 

He forces his eyes back open, feeling the tears spilling over his cheeks just from the intensity of it all, the intensity of you. You’re gentle with him even when your hand is wrapped around his throat and his cock is splitting you open—he can feel the soothing circles you rub with your thumb, he can see the way you’re searching his face to make sure he’s okay. Dazai is just so overwhelmed that he can’t stop the way his next moan breaks into a sob; acutely realizing just how deprived he’d been of any type of care or love before meeting you, and forcibly coming to terms with the fact that he is never going to be able to go without this again, without you again. He’d known it to some extent before this, the thought of losing you and the light you bring him has made his stomach churn violently but this…

He’s torn from his thoughts when you suddenly stop the rolls of your hips, halting the spreading heat in his lower abdomen desperately. The noise that escapes him is something caught between distress and betrayal, dark eyes wide as he looks up at you questioningly, but the expression on your face makes his breath catch. Your hand slides up from his throat to cup his cheek, your other hand releasing his wrist so that you can hold his face between your hands, thumbs wiping away the tears spilling over his cheeks.

Distantly, Dazai recognizes that he’s still choking over sobs and that’s probably why you’ve stopped and that only rips his chest apart more because of course, you’re still putting him above you—even when you’re mad, even when you’ve just fought, when he’s betrayed you in a way that should be unforgivable, you’re still kissing away his tears and putting aside your own needs to take care of him

He doesn’t deserve you. Not in any universe, but especially not in this one.

He thinks he could stay here for eternity. Fuck the rest of the world. Fuck the Port Mafia. Fuck his plan. He just wants to stay here with you, your lips brushing his, sharing the same sliver of air. He leans into your touch, groaning against your lips when he feels your walls spasm around him.

“You’re beautiful,” he breathes out, unsure if you can even understand him. “You’re so-”

His words fall off into another moan, and he can’t control his hips as they thrust up sharply against yours, another string of incoherent curses escaping his hips as your breath catches and you straighten back up, head falling back as you gasp his name.

Your nails dig crescents into his upper thighs through his bandages as you brace yourself back against them. You move your hips again—faster, this time, harder, and Dazai thinks his head is in the clouds. He’s so deep inside of you that he can feel everything, jaw falling slack as heat spreads through his body too rapidly for him to get control over. He wants to throw a hand over his mouth to muffle the lewd, pitched moans spilling from his lips but he can’t drag his hands from where they’re clawing at your hips, desperately trying to help you meet him with each thrust.

“I-hah-shit, I’m gonna-fuck-”

He slurs out your name and several obscenities, trying to warn you that he’s going to cum when he feels his cock twitching inside of you and his abdomen tensing, but you only lean down to press a lingering kiss to the corner of his lips and Dazai is gone. He wants to watch you, he tries, but he can’t hold his eyes open, they’re half-rolled back as he chokes over moans of your name, hips stilling as he cums deep inside of you. His body twitches, expression twisted as he presses his head so hard into the pillow that he thinks he might permanently indent it. 

His head is spinning, lungs burning, sweat beading at his forehead and hair matted to his face—he thinks he’s never cum so hard in his entire life; all of the nights he spent alone, desperately trying to fuck his hand to the thought of you in attempts to mimic how you’ve made all the other Dazais feel, to give himself some semblance of the pleasure you’ve brought him in other lives to hold him over on particularly lonely nights, they’ve never felt like this.

You don’t stop, even as he squirms and lets out jumbled pleas beneath you, body shuddering at the overstimulation but you’re too lost in chasing your own high now. He spasms beneath you, nails digging into your thigh as you fuck his cum deeper inside of you, bouncing on his cock desperately. He doesn’t care that the sensitivity is pushing his body to the brink, letting you use him however you want if it means he gets to see you like this. 

Dazai’s head feels light, pins and needles pricking his body—he thinks he might pass out but he forces himself to hold on, enraptured by the sight of you on top of him with your eyes half-rolled back, lips parted and throat bared to him. Your tits are half-spilling out over the low-cut of your dress and Dazai thinks you’re fucking divine. The only holy thing in this godless world. He wants to spend the rest of his life worshiping you.

“I’m gonna-” you gasp, head falling backward as one final roll of your hips that has your clit grinding against his pelvic bone sends you spiraling over the edge. 

Dazai wants to sear the image of you behind his eyelids, watching as your nails drag against his thighs, drawing red lines even through the bandages, back arching, head tossed back—your body is trembling violently as you cum on his cock, expression twisted and entirely blissed out, sobbing over his name. He chokes and gasps at the feeling of your cunt tightening around his sensitive cock again, jaw tight and spots dancing in his vision as he’s so abruptly pushed over the edge a second time, the coil in his abdomen tightening and snapping all within the span of a few seconds.

He’s still reeling when he feels you slump forward onto his chest, burying your face in the crook of his neck, shivering in the aftershocks of your orgasm. He’s only half aware as he instinctively brings his hands up to rest on your hips, rubbing soft circles of your hip bones to try to soothe you. 

He shudders when you press a kiss to his neck right at the edge of his bandages, and then tilt your head up to press another on his jaw. One of your hands comes up to caress the back of his head, fingers carding through the dark locks in a way that has his eyes drooping shut. 

“We’re not done with this conversation,” you finally say after a few moments of silence, voice soft, breaking the silence. Dazai stiffens a bit, lips parting to respond but no words leave them. “... but let’s just lay like this for a while first, okay?”

He lets out a shaky breath, still not entirely convinced that he’s not going to lose you, so he lets his eyes flutter shut as he nods. He may as well bask in this for as long as he can, and if you notice the way his fingers dig just a little deeper into your skin after your words process, you don’t mention it. 

“Yeah,” he murmurs, “okay.”

Dazai wakes up the next morning and you’re nowhere to be seen. The bed is frighteningly cold next to him and his heart is instantly in his throat. He doesn’t waste a second before he’s sitting up in bed, looking around, eyes wild and heart racing. He doesn’t settle down, not until his eyes fall upon where you’re sitting curled up on the chair of the desk he never uses, eyes trained on the dark clouds outside the window, the beauty of the sunrise wilted by a morning storm.

“His intention was to make me leave you.” You’re not looking at him, but you must have heard him sit up. “Fyodor Dostoevsky. The things he told me, they were to make me leave you.”

Dazai doesn’t move an inch, throat swelling. He forces himself to ask, “What did he tell you?”

He isn’t sure if he wants to know.

“It doesn’t matter,” you say—Dazai thinks that it definitely does, but he bites back the questions that rise to his tongue because you’re clearly not about to budge on your answer. “Who is he?”

“A monster,” Dazai bites out, bitterness seeping into his tone as he leans back against the headboard, eyes still trained on where you’re curled on his chair, gaze distant. “You have to stay away from him.”

“Well, I didn’t intend on seeking him out,” you say it so dryly that Dazai nearly finds humor in it. Nearly. The smile that rises to his lips is mirthless at best. You turn to look at him, finally, and Dazai finds only cool indifference on your face; the fondness, the softness, the gentleness from last night are all gone. He wonders if you regret it, but he doesn’t let that thought linger, it’ll only make him sick. “... He doesn’t seem like the type to give up.”

“He never is,” Dazai murmurs, ignoring the brief, questioning look you direct toward him, mind drifting off to all of the Russian’s incessant attempts to take you from him in all of the other universes. “Did he tell you what his plan was?”

Dazai doubts it, but maybe there was something he said to you that shed some light to it.

“He didn’t have to,” you say quietly. “He wants Yokohama, for whatever reason—couldn’t figure that out, I think he’s looking for something—and clearly, he has to get through you to get it. He thinks the best way of getting through you is by taking me away from you first. That’s what I’d gathered from how he was talking at least, what he was saying about you, the way he was phrasing it. I’d put together enough on my own during the night to fill in the blanks. He told me things about what you’d done as… what you’d done as boss of the Port Mafia—things you’ve done to enemies… to allies. He told me that I’d see the real you as soon as you realize that the meeting he set up was a farce; that the mask you put up would crumble and I would see you for the demon that you are.”

Dazai doesn’t respond, jaw tight as he averts his gaze to the window—he’d played right into Dostoevsky’s hands. He can hardly bring himself to look at you; he wonders if you do see him differently now that the cloud from the night before has worn off, but he can’t bring himself to ask. Now’s not the time anyway, there are more pressing matters.

“... He’ll come after me again, won’t he?” you ask quietly. “Getting me to leave you willingly didn’t work. If he’s so set on me being the trigger to your downfall, then he’ll come after me again.”

He would. As he always has. Of course, Dostoevsky would try to get to him through you, he’s tried it in every universe, and Dazai hadn’t been careful enough. He hadn’t been smart enough. He’d known this was going to happen and was still arrogant enough to believe he could somehow prevent it. He was a fool, and he was a fool at the cost of your safety. He doesn’t know how to respond to you, he doesn’t want to confirm your suspicions, he doesn’t want to admit that this is all his fault, that he knew this would happen and was selfish enough to pursue you anyway.

“... I’m scared, Osamu,” you finally say quietly, and you suddenly look a lot smaller from where you’re sitting on his desk chair, hunched over with your knees tucked to your chest. “I’m really scared.”

Dazai’s heart claws up to his throat and he pushes himself out of bed, still dressed haphazardly in his suit from the night before. He makes his way over to you and kneels in front of you, hands curling around your ankles as he looks up at you.

“I won’t let anything happen to you,” he tells you, voice a bit more raspier than he intended for it to come across as. “I don’t care what I have to do to ensure it, how low I have to stoop. I will not let anything happen to you, do you understand?”

Your eyes meet his, and he can’t help but notice that doubt still riddles your gaze as you search his face, as if you want to believe him but can’t bring yourself to. A pit starts to grow in his stomach, wide and gaping as he realizes that this is all really about to happen, and one mistake on his part could lead you to the same fate you’ve met in so many other worlds because of him.

Finally, the doubt slowly clears as you let out a soft breath, nodding, and Dazai inhales sharply, laying his forehead against your shin as he lets his eyes slide shut.

He won’t let it happen. Not again. 

again there was NO plot development in the smut - you guys didn't miss out on anything, pinky swear. i restructured the scene to fit the only notable scene (bandage removal) into the part before the smut, so if that felt a little forced, that was why </3 it wasn't supposed to be there. i was struggling trying to figure out how to move it upward a bit. the only arguable "plot" development was dazai letting go of his control freakiness to let her take the lead

[fettuccin-e]

Flying to New Heights

Summary: A flight delay means you're spending your night at the hotel bar, praying for sleep to come to you. Instead, a certain Captain Francisco Morales shows up, tall and broad and far too tempting. With undeniable attraction burning between you, you can't help the way you fall right into his arms.

A/N: Alright! I know it's been a while, I'm sorry, I'm sorry. Life has gotten a tad crazy, but the Frankie thirst never stops okay? And this AU has been buzzing in my head for a little while now, so I just needed to get it out there. I hope y'all enjoy the porn. (dividers are by the lovely @saradika-graphics!)

Tags: Frankie Morales x Reader, Commercial Pilot!Frankie, Flight attendant!reader, afab!fem!reader, alcohol consumption but barely, this is essentially an excuse for porn so, oral and fingering(r!recieving), unprotected piv (pls wrap it up I'm begging you), Francisco Morales and his dirty mouth have struck again (w/c: 4.2K)

You love your job, you really do. Deciding to actually train to be a flight attendant was one of the best decisions of your life. Gone were the days of short-lived stints in retail, and you’ve never been happier for it.

You’ve lived the attendant life for a few years now, and you wouldn’t have it any other way. You’ve met some of your best friends through this job, seen some of the most beautiful places in the world, met celebrities on their way to new production locations and concert venues. 

It’s the dream, you tell your family, during the rare moments you actually get to visit them. And it is. The perks far outweigh the cons in your profession, and you’re happy to be where you are.

That’s not to say there aren’t any cons though.

There are always rude flyers, unruly children, issues with luggage. The turbulence is never much fun, nor are the months spent without being able to go home at all.

There are always nights like tonight, where the rain made the flight arrive later than expected, and you’ve got another flight scheduled for the morning. Between jetlag and the copious amounts of airline coffee you’ve imbibed to remain bright and chipper over an eight hour flight overseas, there’s no way you’ll get more than five hours of sleep before you have to clock in again.

A nightcap in the hotel bar seemed just the thing to cool off. You haven’t even taken your uniform off, the thick fabric stretching across your skin, your legs exposed to the cool air as you sip on your drink. The alcohol burns a bit in the back of your throat, but you take comfort in it, trying to lean into the calming warmth it creates in your stomach.

“Can’t sleep?”

The unexpected voice rips you from your reverie, and fuck, what a wake up call. The voice is deep, a pretty rasp edging into the ends of his words, the warmth of his tone making you far warmer than the alcohol in your glass ever could.

Captain Francisco Morales. Even his name has heat swimming in your stomach, and you wish you had just gone to bed like a normal person instead of drinking at the hotel bar at midnight. 

You can’t decide if the pilot is a perk or a con of the job, only knowing that he seems to pilot most of your flights, and is a fucking distraction during every single one of them. With his big broad shoulders and patchy beard, the crinkles around his eyes when he smiles and his insistence that you call him Frankie, not Captain Morales. 

The whole “flight attendants fucking pilots” trope never really applied to you until you met Frankie. You’ve made it a point not to hit on him, no matter how much you desperately want to. It would be far too stereotypical, and with how fucking nice Frankie is, you’d feel like you’d be taking advantage of him. So you’ve kept your distance, talking to him kindly, trying to cross your legs discreetly when he flexes his damn hands on the plane controls, and doing your job like a normal person.

But as he crosses into your line of vision, sitting in the barstool directly next to you, you’re struck with the realization that you’re in unknown territory. There’s no distracting yourself here with other passengers, or your fellow flight attendants. You can’t excuse yourself to an airplane bathroom to splash cold water on your face and yell at yourself to get it together. No, Frankie is right in front of you, ordering a whiskey neat from the bored-looking bartender, and smiling at you so fucking prettily with those big brown eyes and big hands and oh god you’re not going to survive-

“Nah, the jet-lag is really getting to me this time,” you say casually, your voice working on its own accord. At least you aren’t staring at him dopily like some kind of imbecile.

He chuckles. “Same here. Flight go okay?”

“You got us here, didn’t you, Captain? I’d say that’s a success.”

“Then let’s hope I’m always successful,” he winks, and it takes effort to breathe normally. You giggle, and he smiles at you again, his eyes crinkling up.

“You have a flight tomorrow?” he asks, sipping at his drink. 

“Yeah, unfortunately," you sigh. "10:00AM, which is making the whole ‘no sleeping thing’ even worse. Y’know, it’s really the airline’s fault if I collapse on a passenger." You grin at him, and he laughs.

“Oh, they should be so lucky,” he chuckles, and you could swear that you see just a flicker of heat in his eyes. A heat that turns into a raging inferno inside of you, spreading from your cheeks to the tips of your toes. 

“How about you, Captain? Flying again tomorrow?” You need to keep your mind out of the fucking gutter, not that he makes it very easy.

“Yup. They’ve got me in the air at 8:00AM.”

“Oh man, and you’re listening to me complain about my 10:00AM?”

“Work is work, sweetheart,” he smiles at you, and you want to collapse into him at that very moment. Sweetheart. Coming from anyone else, it would sound smarmy, like a pick up line, but from Frankie, it just sounds warm and comforting. You want to be his sweetheart. “We’re all allowed to complain. We aren’t in any kind of competition.”

He sips his whiskey, his eyes feeling like they’re boring into your fucking soul. “And either way, we’re both in the same bar, at midnight, sleep nowhere in sight. We’re pretty much in the same boat.”

“If you say so, Captain,” you say, your body positively burning under his gaze. You hope that you can blame it on the alcohol.

He raises an eyebrow, “I thought I told you to call me Frankie, sweetheart.”

“Frankie, sorry.”

“No need to be sorry,” he says, taking another sip. You try to not watch his throat work as he swallows. You fail. “Think you just need more practice,” he mumbles into his drink, so soft you almost miss it.

“Practice?” you blurt, mind too distracted to think of an intelligent response.

“Practice saying my name.”

A laugh startles out of your mouth. “I have no idea how I’d practice that, Frankie.”

He hums, pretending to think. “I have a few ideas,” he murmurs, and fuck, you definitely aren’t imagining the heat in his eyes now. It’s blazing into you, and you have to press your thighs together to alleviate the ache between them, hoping that Frankie doesn’t notice. Or maybe you hope he does, as you watch those thick fingers wrap around his glass.

Fuck it. He’s hot, you’re horny, and God, you can’t take much more of this. “I’d love to hear all about them, Frankie,” you say, adding a little rasp to your voice that you hope sounds sexy.

Frankie chuckles, but it doesn’t sound like he’s making fun of you. No, he sounds surprised, like he can’t believe you’re flirting back at him. Confidence swims in your chest as red colors his cheeks. You gaze up into those warm, brown eyes of his, and fuck, he’s so pretty up close like this.

“You sure about that, hermosa?”

You don’t break eye contact with him, and his deep gaze burns into yours. “Positive,” you breathe, and Frankie’s smirk is absolutely devastating.

Captain Francisco Morales doesn’t do this often. No, he doesn’t do this ever. Fucking between flights is supposed to be a perk of being a pilot, but it’s a “perk” he rarely utilizes. One night stands have never really suited him; he gets attached far too easily, and with his job, he can never stick around for long.

But god you’re pretty. And you’re licking hotly into his mouth, and whining in the back of your throat like you’re fucking desperate for it.

He couldn’t help himself when he saw you, still in your little uniform skirt, nursing a drink at the hotel bar. He couldn’t help himself when he struck up a conversation with you, wanting to see your pretty smile and soft laugh that he only ever hears mid-flight. And damn it, he sure as hell can’t help himself from pressing you up against the wall of the hotel elevator, pressing one of his thighs between yours while your fingers curl into his hair and his arms wrap around your waist.

You wiggle down onto his thick thigh, and it creates the most perfect pressure on your clit. You whimper against Frankie’s mouth, and he groans with you, pulling you flush against him.

“Fuck,” he breathes, and his voice is deep and gravelly, breathless from your fevered kisses. “I, uh, I don’t usually do this kind of thing.” His cheeks burn, but he doesn’t back away, just leans his forehead against yours and tries to catch his breath.

It isn’t a surprise, his confession. You’ve heard stories about every other pilot, about their conquests with flight attendants, or how someone saw one of them take their wedding band off when they got to their hotel. There are stories upon stories about every pilot you’ve flown with, except Frankie. And it’s intoxicating, knowing that he wants you enough to have you like this. 

“Good. Me neither,” you whisper, and Frankie grins again. That boyish, devastating grin, and fuck, your clit is throbbing so hard that you could cum like this. You could cum, right in this elevator, Frankie’s thigh between yours and his tongue in your mouth, fuck-

The elevator dings, signaling your arrival to your floor, and Frankie jumps away from you as the doors slide open. You don’t take it personally, not when you’re instinctually tugging your rumpled skirt down. You glance up, and Frankie is already staring down at you, gaze blazing as he braces a hand against the elevator door, holding it open for you. 

“Where’s your room?” he asks, and the question is casual, but his voice certainly isn’t. There’s promise in it, and you have to make sure your knees don’t buckle. 

“Why don’t I show you?” you say, stepping toward him to press your bodies together. Frankie doesn’t answer, he only cups a hand under your jaw, dragging your face up for a sticky kiss. It’s so much better than a yes.

He breaks the kiss far too soon, but one of his hands makes its way down to your ass, squeezing the fat of it through your skirt. “Lead the way, princesa,” he grumbles, and how could you ever think to refuse him?

Maybe you’re a little too eager in your walk to your room, but Frankie doesn’t seem to fare much better. No, he’s just as desperate as you are, with the way he presses you against the door of your room the moment you close it. With the way he swiftly kisses down your neck, sucking your skin between his teeth as he unbuttons your blazer, shoving the fabric down your arms. The buttons of your white undershirt follow, and you keen as he sucks maddeningly at your pulse point, his mustache scratching at the sensitive skin of your neck.

As soon as you’re divested of your shirt, Frankie’s moving again, kissing his way down your chest. He drags his teeth against the soft skin of your breasts, and you dig your hands into his hair. 

“Fuck, baby, you’ve got the prettiest tits,” he murmurs against your skin. It doesn’t sound like a line, no, it sounds like a prayer. 

“Frankie, please,” you breathe.

He looks up at you from his position at your chest. “What, gorgeous?” he asks, coy, as if he doesn’t know what you want. What you desperately need. 

“Please, just,” you use your grip in his hair to drag him back up to your mouth, and he goes willingly, groaning softly as his tongue meets yours again. “Please fuck me, Frankie,” you whisper, and Frankie groans like he’s dying.

“Take- take your clothes off, baby,” he mutters, and it sounds more like he’s begging than he’s commanding. “Take your clothes off, and get on the bed.”

He doesn’t have to tell you twice.

You have to make sure you don’t trip on your way to the bed as you kick off your heels. You tug your skirt and nylons down your thighs, making sure to wiggle your ass a bit more than normal as you bend over to tug them the rest of the way down your legs. You smirk at Frankie’s soft groan behind you.

The air of the hotel room is slightly cold, but as soon as you kneel on the bed, arching your back in a shameless display of your desperation, Frankie is burning hot above you, and you can’t feel the cold at all. Frankie’s thick, calloused hands palm your ass, and you moan as he spreads you apart, staring unabashedly at your aching cunt.

“Can I eat your pussy, baby?” he grumbles from behind you, and the fact that he’s asking permission to eat you out is making you so much hotter, making you clench around nothing. 

“Yes, yes, Frankie, oh please-” you whine, and Frankie barely lets you finish your sentence before he’s dragging his tongue in a long stripe up your dripping pussy. “Fuck, Frankie,” you groan, and he moans into you, sounding like he’s enjoying eating you out just as much as you are. 

His nose drags maddeningly through your folds as he brings his lips down to your clit, sucking it into his mouth and swirling his tongue around it in circles that send pure pleasure sparking endlessly up your spine. You arch your back into it, pressing yourself into his mouth, and Frankie groans again. The vibrations of it against your clit make you jerk wildly, whining high as you clutch desperate fingers into the pristine white sheets of the bed.

Frankie tries to keep you still with one of his big hands pressing into the small of your back. His other hand makes its way to your pussy, and you don’t even realize, not when he’s licking into you so feverishly, until there’s a thick finger pressing into your achy entrance.

“Frankie, oh my god-” you gasp wetly, his finger so much thicker than one of your own. It’s been so long, too long, since you’ve had the touch of anything other than yourself. Your tiny, traveling bullet vibrator doesn’t feel like this. You can’t stretch yourself like this, you can’t drive yourself wild like he can.

He moves his finger around inside you, searching, searching, while he licks softly at your clit. “Where is it, baby?” he mutters against you, and you have to force your brain to work at least a little bit to decipher whatever the fuck he means.

His finger is still searching, stroking against your slick inner walls, and you can barely gasp out a, “up, up,” before he’s finally touching that sweet spot deep inside you. You can’t hide it when he does, gasping out a high pitched moan as pleasure rockets up your body.

“There it is, sweetheart,” he says, “good girl.”

And fuck, how do you hold yourself together when he says things like that. He licks again at your clit, but plays with that spongy spot inside you, abusing it. You’re so slick and hot, it doesn’t take long before he’s pressing a second finger into you, then a third. And his fingers are so fucking thick, breaking you apart and pressing into that wonderful spot inside you. Your vision is blurring at the edges as he plays with you like a practiced instrument. How is he so good at this? Your body barely feels like it’s your own, just Frankie’s; his to play with, his to fuck. God, he’s ruining you. It’s never been this good.

“Frankie, Frankie-” you whimper his name like a prayer, and his fingers move fast into you, jackhammering you into the mattress. You whine as he breaks his mouth from your clit, but he keeps his fingers pressed deep inside of you as he leans over your trembling body. 

“C’mon baby, c’mon baby,” he mutters, moving his fingers inside you so roughly that you could swear he’s trying to break you in two. “What do you need, sweetheart? What do you need to cum all over my fingers, huh?”

“Just keep-” you gasp between shuddering moans. “Just keep talking to me, fuck, please-”

“Talk about what, gorgeous? Talk about how hard I am for you right now? How hard you always make me?” You whine at his words, and you can feel his smirk against the skin of your shoulder. His fingers move into you even harder, if that’s even possible. “Fuck, princesa, you have to know how fucking sexy you are. Make me so fucking hard whenever we fly together. Fuck, watched you bend over to pick up your bag once, right in front of me. Had to fuckin’ jerk my cock as soon as we got back to the hotel. Can’t help it around you baby.”

You feel like you’re underwater. Frankie’s voice is deep and dark in your ear, and your pussy is so fucking sensitive. You can feel your orgasm burning relentlessly in your stomach. Just a little more, just a little-

“Thought about taking you to the back of the plane, mid flight. Thought about fucking you hard, stuffing this pretty pussy, making you go back out to work with my cum dripping down your thighs. You want that, sweet girl? Fuck you’re so pretty, so pretty baby, you’ve gotta cum. Please, please let me fuck this pussy. Be my good girl, cum all over my hand.”

You don’t think he means it like a command, but you follow it anyway. You moan, throaty and wet, into the sheets as your cunt clenches around Frankie’s fingers, hips twitching as he presses reassuring kisses to your shoulder. You turn your head blindly, and he leans forward to meet your lips in a bruising kiss, his fingers buried deep inside as you gush all over his hand.

“Fuck me, fuck me, fuck me,” you whisper against his lips, repeating it like a mantra, and Frankie whimpers, needy and so hot that it makes you want to cry.

“Okay, baby, okay, I’ve got you,” he says, and you know he does. 

When Frankie presses the blunt tip of his cock against the opening of your sensitive pussy, you both groan. You push your hips back just as he pushes his hips forward, and the tip of his cock is just as big as the rest of him. Which, of course, means fucking massive. You have to breathe through the stretch of him inside you as he sinks deep, deeper, deeper. 

“Doing so fucking good, sweetheart. Jesus fuck- ah- so fucking tight baby- fucking beautiful- oh fuck-” Frankie mutters, sounding just as overwhelmed as you feel. It feels like forever until he bottoms out, his hips pressed against your ass as he hunches over you, hot and big and all man. It’s a dream that you’ve had before, but the reality is so much better than anything you could have ever imagined.

“So- you’re so big, Frankie,” you whimper, and Frankie groans behind you. “Need you to fuck me, wanna feel it tomorrow, please, please-” and he does. He pulls his hips back, just to shove himself back in, and the drag of his fat cock against that spot he found earlier has tears springing unbidden to your eyes. 

“Yes! Oh my god, like that, just like that-” you’ve never talked this much before during sex. But his unyielding thrusts, deep, deep inside, have you babbling wildly.

“Christ, you can’t talk like that, princesa, gonna make me blow my fucking load-”

“Want it, fuck Frankie, want you dripping down my fucking thighs, wanna gape open after you fuck me, oh god-”

Frankie fucks in harder, and it’s like every thought you’ve ever had flies out of you. His chest and stomach press into your back as he holds you still, thrusting desperately into you, harder and harder.

The bed is creaking, a rhythmic squeak that mixes in with the endless sounds of your keening whines and Frankie’s moans, and the obscene squelching of your pussy around Frankie’s cock. Your wetness drips down your thighs as Frankie bullies his way inside. He’s hitting that beautiful spot inside you, so perfectly, so overwhelmingly perfect, and fuck, tears are dripping down your face as you clutch onto a pillow, only able to squeak out pitiful whines of “Frankie, Frankie,” as he destroys you.

“So fucking gorgeous for me, god, bebita, fuckin’- fucking tight, fucking strangling me. Been too long, honey? Too long since you got fucked like you deserve?” Frankie growls into your ear, fucking you like a god damn animal.

Frankie’s lost control above you, which he just doesn’t do. He’s always in control, always, he has to be in this profession. But it’s like you’ve stripped him bare, literally and figuratively, to the most primal parts of himself. You’re so fucking hot and wet and tight around him, whining and throwing yourself back on his cock like it’s the best you’ve ever had, and he’s losing it. Losing it far too quickly, and he’s going to cum far too quickly.

“C’mon, baby, give me another one,” he groans, “squeeze my cock with this perfect fuckin’ pussy, wanna, wanna feel it.”

“Touch my clit- oh please, please, Frankie, ah- ah” and he does, the moment the words leave your lips. He reaches underneath the both of you, not breaking the rhythm of his hips driving into yours, and rubs two of those thick, calloused fingers against your throbbing clit.

“Fuck- yes, just like that, just like that, oh my god.” You’re slurring your words, so stupidly drunk on the feeling of his cock filling you over and over, of his body radiating heat above you.

“Gonna take care of you hermosa, make you cum like you deserve, so fuckin’ beautiful crying on my cock,” Frankie says, rubbing your clit hard and methodical. “Never gonna get enough of you baby. Gonna fuck you in every hotel we ever get, fuck you at the terminal, fuck this pussy in the god damn cockpit, oh shit-”

And you’re screaming, outright screaming into the sheets as the thread in your stomach snaps, your pussy clenching and gushing all over Frankie’s giant cock. He’s still mumbling into the cook of your neck, mindless mumbles about how pretty you are, how perfect, as you tremble through the most powerful orgasm of your fucking life. It’s devastating, it breaks you apart and puts you back together all at once, and you just have to trust Frankie to hold you together in his strong arms.

“Where do you want it, huh baby? Please, please, you’ve gotta tell me, oh shit-” Frankie whimpers, and it’s a damned good thing you still have enough brain cells to understand what he means.

“Inside, inside, 'm on the pill, please, please fill me up.” It’s fucking risky that you both didn’t even think about a condom, but with a man like Frankie, it’s hard to think about anything.

His hips still, his cock pressed inside so deep that it feels like he could be in your lungs, as he fills your pussy with his cum. He bites harshly into your shoulder, but it doesn’t fully muffle his whimpers as he crashes through his orgasm. Your eyes flutter shut. You wish you could bottle those sounds and listen to them forever.

Your knees slide out from under you, leaving you laying flat on your stomach, and Frankie follows, holding himself against you as you wait for your breathing to slow. 

“That was…” you whisper into the quiet.

“Fucking amazing.”

You can’t suppress your giggle. “Took the words right out of my mouth, Frankie.”

He tucks his face into the crook of your shoulder, and you can feel his pretty smile, before he’s lifting himself off of you, and you realize how cold you are without his heat.

“I’ll be right back, okay?” he says, and you can’t bring yourself to do anything more than nod. Frankie rushes quickly into the en suite bathroom, and you can hear the sink running for a moment, before he comes back. A warm, wet rag makes its way down your back, over the curve of your ass, and between your legs. He’s ridiculously gentle as he wipes you down, and it’s wonderful. 

Once Frankie deems you clean again, he climbs into bed next to you. He wraps his arms around your placid body, tugging you close. “Didn’t take you for a cuddler, Frankie,” you murmur, but you only snuggle closer, relishing in his deep chuckle.

“I’m usually not.”

“You don’t do this often, though?” you say, dragging a finger down his chest, your eyes already fluttering shut.

You feel Frankie’s lips press to your forehead as he murmurs, “I think I’m willing to let this,” he hugs you against him softly, “become a new habit.”

You smile, and you lean up to kiss him gently. “I wouldn’t mind that at all.”

[piscespetals]

summary: in which sevika becomes your roommate. click here to view all parts.

content: gay pining, angst, thought spirals, fluff

word count: 4k

this is the final part. thank you so much for all your support! very sorry for the delay, I honestly had this sitting in my drafts on here for WEEKS y'all. this was supposed to have already been uploaded and silly me never logged back on to double check.

Chapter Five

When you wake, your muscles feel like jelly. You're hyper aware of the sheets underneath you—how warm they are. And how your duvet swaddles you just the right way…Your pillow smells good. Like coming home after a long day of work. Like Sevika. 

Suddenly, there's movement behind you.

And that's when you realize it's her breath. It tickles the back of your neck, stutters momentarily while she shifts, then resumes. A chill runs down the slope of your back as you feel pressure around your waist, which happens to be her arm. She pulls you closer to her as if she's afraid of you getting up right then.

“Sev?”

But there's no answer. The only sound that echoes is a soft snore and grinding teeth.

You bite back a smile while your muscles relax, and you lean into the inviting embrace of the woman behind you.

“You’re staring,” Sevika mutters. Her eyes remain downcast as she dries off a freshly washed knife. You admire how strong she looks in that moment; how she’s handling such a thing with the utmost care.

Sevika standing there with a sparkling knife shouldn’t be an image that you welcome. Yet you do. 

“Am I?” You mutter. Your lips barely part as you get lost at the sight of the woman before you. 

She peers at you under the lids of her lashes, eyebrows raising with sparkling pools of grey. 

“I don’t mind it.” She says quietly, almost sweetly. Her gaze readjusts quickly back to the task at hand–the knife–despite it already being completely dry. “I never do.”

Your eyes follow her slow and careful movements, towel in her right hand and utensil in her left. Your heart flutters.

Softly, you smile and manage only then to look away. 

Alicia bends over, hand gripping the porch handrail as a tear trickles down her face. She’s laughing, which you usually don’t mind, but this time it’s at your expense.

“It’s not that funny,” You mumble, which only makes her laugh harder.

“Hun, it’s known to all of mankind,” Mel chimes in. “That you’re quite dramatic.”

“Am not!”

Another round of guffaws. 

That’s when you glance towards Sevika, who’s relaxing in a rocking chair across from you. She somehow thought that today was the perfect day to tell Alicia and Mel about your waxing incident a few weeks back. Maybe you should find some sort of humor in it; after all, it turned out fine after an application of aloe vera. 

But still.

It was embarrassing.

“What about the night I told you that I’d be moving in with Alicia?” Mel’s eyes shine from the distant memory. “You were hysterical.”

“Okay, now you’re overexaggerating.”

“Remember when you said that me moving out was the beginning of your end? That you were doomed to grow old and die alone in a nursing home–”

“Mel.”

“While Alicia and I had to explain to our kids what happened to their Aunt-”

“It was a rational fear.”

At this point, Alicia is struggling to breathe. She grips the sides of her ribs, eyes squinted shut and jaw slack from silent laughter. She crouches down to the floor, hands stabilizing themselves on the arm of Sevika’s rocking chair. You notice Sevika’s amusement seconds later; how she coughs fakely into her inner elbow while her forehead crinkles. Mel giggles when you playfully shove her.

“I hate you guys.” 

For a split second, you peer at Sevika to find that she’s already regarding you. Her pupils are dilated and her full lips have stretched into a lazy grin. Her cupid’s bow looks exceptionally prominent, reminding you of how warm her mouth felt when pressed against you this morning. 

She winks and manages to pull you from the memory. 

Mel rolls her eyes, sending you a cheesy grin. “You love us.”

You open your mouth to object, but nothing comes out. You can’t fight it. Because Mel is right.

You do.

When you wake up, the first detail that you can pinpoint is the smell of something warm and sophisticated. Your eyes flutter.

“Careful.” The murmur is low. Gentle. Sevika. “You’ll wake her.”

“Sorry,” The distinct lilt of Mel’s voice. “Do you need help getting her into the car?”

Shifting, “No, it’s okay.”

Then there’s movement. Is it you? Is it Sevika? You’re too drowsy to be able to fully tell. You try to open your eyes, but the pull is too enticing.

“Thank you for always looking after her…” Mel’s voice draws closer. There’s the warmth of another body now, and a gust of Mel’s signature fruity perfume. You struggle to register the feeling of being smothered by two people. Is Sevika carrying you? “She may never tell you, but she appreciates you so much.”

Mel pulls away, squeezing your arms briefly. When you try to open your eyes, your vision can only make out the edge of a jawline that curves into a neck. Sevika’s neck.

Arms hold you with a strength you hadn’t thought possible. Fingers press into your skin when you shift your weight–or try to. 

“We’ll be home soon,” Sevika says. Her voice has dipped down to an incredibly low volume, much closer to your ear than before. Her skin–at least, that’s what you think it is–brushes against your cheek for a few seconds. Lingering there before disappearing again. “Just rest.”

If you were fully awake, you’d probably be absolutely embarrassed by the thought of Sevika carrying you to the car. You must have fallen asleep after dinner, since your last memory is sitting around the fireplace with Sevika, Alicia and Mel. 

But you’re too tired to feel embarrassed.

And you’re too comfortable.

There’s a hand that touches your shoulder, a gentle caress before it pulls away and then, “She looks exhausted,” Mel whispers. 

Sevika hums. The voices begin to drift away again. You catch the end of a sentence, very specifically the words, “...Haven’t told her yet,” before you succumb to a restful sleep.

It’s only when your neck is sore from being craned, forehead resting against the cool glass of the passenger window, when your eyes flutter open. You see flashing lights and blurred buildings, and for a second, you're incredibly disoriented as you try to register the passing world. But then there's a hand that rests on your thigh, the slight caress from a thumb, before you're being gently squeezed.

“Almost home,” Sevika mutters.

You blink slowly and gaze at her side profile. There’s certain parts of her that are beautifully accentuated in the dark of the night. Her grey eyes glow as they shift from streetlights to traffic, always alert and ever-watchful. Her full lips move discreetly as she hums along to the car radio. There's something sweet that settles in your mouth then, a new flavor that you're not quite used to. After walking around the world with a bitter-aftertaste for so long, you almost convince yourself that anything else is wrong. But you know, deep down, it’s completely the opposite.

This couldn't be anymore right.

You're at a red light now and Sevika does not hesitate to flick through the radio channels, frowning in distaste at some of the songs. Your heart dances at the sight. 

“Thank you,” You find yourself saying.

Her gaze remains on the radio and she allows the silence to be enveloped by a commercial before she replies. “For what?”

“Being you. And lovi–” You swallow thickly. “...caring for me.”

You can tell that melts through to her. Your words have found a way to pierce that shell of nonchalance she always carries. Her lashes flutter and you swear you hear the slightest hitch of her breath. 

But then the light turns green, the car jolts forward and she glances back towards the road. 

The moment passes and so does the rest of your courage. 

You can’t seem to find your courage around Sevika anymore. 

The next morning, you wake to the smell of bacon lingering in the air. A cloud of fatigue hangs over you whilst you make yourself presentable. Even after splashing ice cold water on your face–and brushing your teeth twice–you barely manage to keep your eyes open when you approach the kitchen. 

Sevika stands at the island, dressed in a black hoodie and grey sweatpants. A few strands of hair sweep the sharp lines of her jaw as her gaze remains on the task in front of her. With deep concentration, she slices through a strawberry. Several pieces of said fruit sit in a bowl to her left. 

It’s ridiculous that the mere sight of her is enough to wake up every atom in your body. Within seconds, your drowsiness has dissipated, and you stand before her with your teeth working into your bottom lip. 

Her head snaps up upon your arrival, grey eyes alert before softening (a telltale sign that she was deep in thought) when they land on you. 

“Strawberries?” Is all that you can say.

Her eyebrows fret together–lips parting, “They’re your favorite right?” She appraises your forehead, then your nose, before returning back to your eyes. “Or do you not like them anymore?”

She remembers. 

Your ears ring and for a split second, you’re convinced you’ll become a puddle on the floor.

Behind her, on the opposing countertop, sits a platter of bacon and prepared scrambled eggs.  

It’s a simple gesture–but the emotions that said gesture ignites feel dangerous. Scary. All encompassing. 

Lines of worry etch themself onto Sevika’s forehead as you struggle to respond.

You want to tell her. You need to tell her.

But how? 

Is it not too soon? Will it scare her away?

To jump or not to jump is the true question that you find yourself wanting to answer. How do people take the plunge? Put their hearts on the line with a possibility of it being crushed?

“Is this too much?” She asks, voice much quieter now.

If you look close enough, you’d almost believe that there was a cloud of desperation swirling in Sevika’s grey irises. Your head shakes slightly as you try to recenter yourself. 

There it is again–that ear ringing sensation that makes you want to jump into her arms while simultaneously collapsing onto the ground. The pull towards her–the one that’s always there–no matter how many times you try to wish it away.

You shake your head, only managing to croak, “I love strawberries,” with a pounding heart.

I love you.

“It’s not too much,” You add. 

You could never be too much. 

Sevika doesn’t move–doesn’t blink. Barely breathes.

Your lips part and she watches you with a patience that’s warm enough to console you even during the coldest winters. She’s waiting for you to say something more. 

But you can’t.

You fucking can’t.

“Come here,” Her command is nothing more than a whisper. 

Your mouth goes dry when you watch her set the knife back down on the chopping board. She side-steps, strawberries long forgotten, as her hands stretch for you.

It doesn’t take much effort for you to close the distance. Despite your tongue being tied, and despite that god-awful lump in the back of your throat, your body doesn’t hesitate in following her. It never will.

Her hands, as tender as they can be, cup the apple of your cheeks. “Are you sure this is okay?” Her breath fans your skin, nose nearly inches from yours as her head bows to meet your gaze head-on.

You nod, boneless and vulnerable. 

“This is okay,” Is pretty much all that you can manage to respond. “More than okay.” 

And that seems to be enough for her. Her shoulders relax and she dips down to meet you with a kiss.

You can feel the beads of perspiration dripping down the nape of your neck. Your chest heaves up and down as you step into the lobby, eyes immediately landing on two receptionists sitting at the front desk. 

One of them sports auburn ringlets and hazel eyes. Small rectangular frames sit on the edge of her nose, and she’s dressed in all black with a large scale spider tattooed onto the front of her neck. 

Two people sit in the lobby chairs positioned against one of the walls. One of them is deeply attuned to their smartphone. The other is asleep.

The receptionist with the spider tattoo, follows your movements with acute focus. You shoot her a lazy smile, slightly dazed from rushing two blocks and also stressed about the time. 

Your eyes dart to the watch on your left wrist as you reach the receptionist desk.

4:17 PM.

You’re late.

“Hi,” You breathe, before taking a long gulp of water. Your purse is barely hanging off of your shoulder, chest heaving up and down as you struggle to breathe while simultaneously inhaling half of the contents in your hydroflask. 

The woman stares at you tepidly, the corner of her mouth twitching as she blinks. That’s when you notice how striking her hazel eyes are, which happen to be coated with a thick layer of black eyeliner and mascara. Her name reads:

Sage

She/her

Sage’s coworker, a muscular brunette with a buzzcut and two industrial piercings, finally glances up from their book. Their name tag, much more shinier than Sage’s, reads: 

Mav

He/him

Mav is friendlier, greeting you with a wide grin. Wrinkles appear around his eyes when he does so. “Hey! Are you here for an appointment?”

Your eyes dart to Sage, who is still appraising you with a harsh stare. She plays with the lanyard around her neck as her head slightly tilts. 

You shift your weight nervously, “I’m actually visiting Sevika. Um,” You redirect your gaze back to Mav. “She’s my…” A heatwave flashes through you as you try to form a comprehensible sentence. “I’m uh, like, her…” God. This is awkward. “I was originally supposed to be here at 3:45? I don’t know if she told you. Um-”

“Oh!” A hint of recognition flashes across Mav’s face. His smile widens and his gaze travels to every detail of your face. “You're Sev’s girl? It’s nice to finally meet you! I swear to God, it’s been ages of us asking,” Mav pauses, glancing over to Sage for reassurance. “...About when we would finally see you. We were beginning to think that Sev has just been lying all this time. Or that the whole love triangle thing between you, her and Monica was just a big story she made up t-Ow!”

It almost looks as if Sage kicks Mav. Mav winces, reaching underneath the desk to check on–what you assume to be–his leg. His eyes narrow as he sends a side-long glare in Sage’s direction, but the deadpan woman ignores him. 

Instead, Sage glances at you, humor dancing in the swirls of her hazel irises as she stands to her feet. “I'll let Sevika know you're here,” She murmurs.

“Thanks. I texted her a few times but she hasn't responded so I figured she’s probably busy with,” You clear your throat. “Tattooing and… stuff.”

One of Sage’s eyebrows quirk up in amusement. She doesn't say anything more, turning on her heels and rounding the corner that leads to another room. When you return your gaze back to Mav, he’s already nose-deep into his novel; your presence long forgotten.

A few minutes later, you hear footfalls echoing from the hallway. It sounds like multiple, which causes your shoulders to tense and back to straighten. Subconsciously, you wipe your palms against the denim of your jeans. A worn pair of black boots rounds the corner, clunking against the marble floors. Your eyes travel up the fitted dark-washed jeans and stop on Sevika’s exposed shoulders—thanks to her sleeves being cut off.

You aren’t able to get much ogling done before she speaks.

“I thought you weren’t gonna make it,” Her voice is low. A bit strained but laced with an undertone of satisfaction. Sage quietly trails behind, eyeing the two of you before sitting back down in her seat. 

You aren’t quite sure how to greet Sevika; at least, not in public like this. Especially since you’re at her workplace. Surely, kissing would be inappropriate?

Thankfully, she doesn’t give you a chance to truly decide. Instead, her arm drapes over your shoulders as she pulls you into her side–a half hug, to your surprise–while something warm presses against your temple.

Her lips.

The kiss is too fleeting for you to register it at that moment. It’s only when she pulls away, squeezing your left shoulder and urging you to walk with her when the gesture dawns on you.

“Are you hungry?” Her lips brush against your right ear, voice low. “I ordered food. It got here a while ago though so we’ll most likely have to microwave it.”

Your skin is warm. Every inch of it. 

Blinking through a daze, your head tilts in her direction as you nod. “That's fine with me.”

Out of the corner of your eye, you still feel the heavy stare of Sage. You wait until you’re further away and out of sight from the receptionist desk when you add, “The woman…Sage? She’s kind of, uh, intense don't you think?”

Sevika doesn't necessarily laugh at your statement but her lips do stretch into a small grin as she exhales shakily. “Yeah, she is. Mostly nosy, is all. And she’s not really a people person—her apprenticeship starts here soon though. She’s one hell of an artist. So we’re keeping her at the front until then.”

You hum at the thought, Sage quickly fading from your brain as Sevika’s arm drops from your shoulders. Instead, you feel a loose grip around your waist–her fingers rest around the curve of your hip and gently urge you to move closer to her. The pair of you have long passed the piercing and tattoo stations, nearing the tail end of the building where a staircase leads to a second floor. Silently, she gestures for you to begin climbing.

Your eyebrows raise and you glance at her, “Up?” You ask, not bothering to mask your surprise. Your index finger motions towards the second floor.

“Where else?” She gives you a quizzical stare.

You suppose it was a bit silly to think that the pair of you would be anywhere else. It’s not like it’s sanitary or professional to be lounging around the tattoo stations, especially if you’re eating food soon. 

It was early this morning when Sevika proposed the idea of having a meal together. She mentioned that it could be at her job, since you haven’t seen the inside of her building (and it’s also geographically convenient since her tattoo shop is closer to home than your office).

The moment you heard the words food and tattoo shop, you immediately said yes. Spending more time together has especially been on your mind lately (and you’ve always had a nagging desire to see this side of her). 

However, you hadn’t actually thought through the logistics of the plan. Not until now. 

“Will it be too taxing for you? I’m sorry–I didn’t even realize–” She points in the direction you just came from. “...The elevators are in the lobby. We can walk back if you want. Are you hurting badly?”

What?

Oh. 

Oh.

The car accident.

You were sore from time to time, but not as bad as before. Quickly, you grab her hand and begin to climb the stairs. “No, actually–” You struggle to hide your smile. “...I’m okay with taking the stairs.” 

You lead the way, with the help of a few directions from her.

Sevika’s office is heavily decorated with all things that describe her. Hundreds of sketches are pinned to a wall while three signed basketball jerseys are hung up on another. There's an incense burning, per usual, when the pair of you walk into the room. A window is slightly propped open and gives you a perfect view of the city. Art clippings and photographs are sprawled across the desk, and a tall lamp is positioned in the corner of the room. To your right is a couch, with a folded blanket and what looks like-

Your head whips back at her. “Chinese takeout?”

Sevika still stands by the door threshold, balancing her weight against it as she rests her hands in her pockets. “Your favorite.” A small smile falls upon her lips.

You don’t know what to say. Thankfully, she continues talking. “I don’t have a TV though. So we’ll have to do without one of your romcoms.” She motions her head behind you. “I hope the window is enough entertainment.”

You laugh and make your way towards the couch. “This is perfect.”

Today is perfect.

She is perfect.

But the feelings are too powerful for you to allow yourself to linger on them. Instead, you make a beeline for the couch, opening up the takeout bag and retrieving  one of the containers. You’re well aware of Sevika’s presence–the waft of her cologne and muted thuds of her boots. Out of the corner of your eye, you see her grab the takeout bag, sitting down in place of it before placing the bag on a coffee table that's a foot away. 

Your heart is hammering in your chest, mouth full of egg fried rice and skin buzzing. If you were to scoot father right, your leg would press against hers. 

But you don’t.

A few beats pass before, “Is everything okay?” She mutters. Her voice is low.

That’s when you force your head to lift, meeting her eyes for a fews seconds. She remains calm. Steady. Her expression is clear–gaze never leaving you. 

“You’ve been distant for a little while now,” She pauses, lips parting. You can tell she’s thinking deeply about what to say and how to say it. “...For the last week or so. And I just want to make sure it’s not because of anything I’ve done or–”

“No.” Your eyes are widening. “You haven’t done anything at all. You’ve been good to me, Sev.” Blinking rapidly, you refocus back on the food in front of you. “I have no complaints. I’m happy with you.”

Hesitation. Then, “Are you sure?” 

And when you catch wind of her face again, you notice that she’s sporting an expression of genuine curiosity. A hint of quiet longing also seems to be staring back at you, and it’s apparent that she's truly–completely–surprised. Have you not been obvious about how much you care for her? Is there really a chance that she thinks differently?

A wave of courage greets you and you decide, right then, that you have to stop denying yourself.

You deserve to take a hold of this–to firmly grasp this time with her–no matter how badly you want to listen to the fear that is nagging in the back of your mind.

You deserve to let yourself fully enjoy this–to fully enjoy her.

And she deserves that too.

“I love you,” You say it as faithfully as you can, because damned if you don’t surely sounds worse than damned if you do. Your hands are shaking, but you don’t allow yourself to think twice because you’ve already said it. You can’t take it back. “God, I love you.” It’s becoming harder to see her. Your line of vision is blurry and your throat hurts. “Sorry I-” You swallow deeply. “I’ve been trying to figure out how to tell you, or even if I should. I don’t want to scare you off. I know it’s soon and we’re still trying to figure this out but…” You’re at a loss for words, shrugging as you try to contemplate what else to say.

She grabs your hands, tugging you towards her. 

“I…” The sound of her exhaling softly is all you can hear. She tries to speak again, “You…” But her voice trails off again.

“I know you’ve expressed to me how you feel and I know this is a lot considering your divorce, then Monica and now me. I want to be with you and I want to give you everything I can, even if that includes taking things slow.” You wet your lips and that’s when you taste tears. You’re crying. “Whatever you need...I’ll be that. I don’t mind. I’ve just been trying to process it all. How I feel for you–it only seems to grow stronger each day. My love for you…” You shake your head, trying to recollect yourself. “...Becoming distant…Making you worry–that wasn’t what I intended.” 

She lets go of your hands. Air leaves your lungs when you feel her coming closer…closer…closer. Her mouth is hot, pressing against yours without any hesitation. That feeling alone makes your muscles turn to mush. But then she deepens it, leaning further into you as if none of this is enough. The urgency she exudes, combined with the swiftness of her tongue, makes you feel as if you’re running out of time….like kissing you is the most dire thing she could be doing right now. 

She wraps her arms around you completely and you allow your body to relax. 

All you can think about is her. Her lips and her taste and her smell and her hair.

All you can think about is how much you loved her when you were inside of her last night, and how much you loved her when her arms were wrapped around you this morning. How much you loved her even when the two of you bickered over the broken tea kettle last week, and how much you still love her right now. 

And that love, you're completely sure, will just keep growing and growing and growing…

You need her, in every aspect. You believe that you’ll always need her.

The tip of her nose brushes your cheek, then grazes against it when she tilts her head in the opposite direction. You feel yourself arching when her hands slide to the small of your back. Your fingers dig into her hair and tug at her scalp. Her quiet hum of satisfaction falls directly into your mouth, chest pressed against yours, body sliding in between your legs.

The salt of your tears fall onto your tongue, but she doesn't seem to mind. When she pulls away, gasping for air, her arms tighten around you even more. Her lips are swollen, eyes misting over as they stare back at you, and forehead merely inches from yours, “Don't you get it?” She whispers. “I'm yours,” Her voice strains with desperation. “You could never scare me away by telling me this. Ever.” 

“And if it isn’t obvious already,” She adds, nose brushing against your cheek. She leaves a trail of her burning touch as she inhales deeply; breathing you in. Your eyes flutter shut and the feeling of her lips pressing against your neck causes your breath to hitch. “I love,” And she pulls away to kiss your other side, “Love,” You shiver when she practically drags her face against yours before halting your anticipation with a tender peck against your lips. “...Love you. More than you’ll ever know.”

And you’re kissing her again, still needing more, but this time allowing yourself to have it. At this point, you’re pretty sure cartoon birds are circling above your head. You’ve never felt so blissed out and completely flustered at the same time. This moment is full of mirth, and promises, and undeniable love.

This is what it means to be alive.

Sevika is smiling now, laughing when you press into her for more, more, more. You’ll always want more of her and more of everything with her. 

“Take me home?” You whisper.

She’s laughing again, eyes misting over, but doesn't miss a beat standing up.

She understands. She feels it too.

Grabbing your hand, she manages to collect the food and her keys in one sweep. “Okay,” She answers, seemingly happy to grant you such a wish.

With your chest aching something fierce, you follow her without question. 

You love her.

And she loves you back.

Tomorrow, you’ll wake up and spend your morning eating toast and drinking tea, loving each other just the same. 

There’ll be days where you two will hang photos that haven’t been taken yet, loving each other just the same.

You’ll spend more dinners together, more holidays, and weekends and years–loving each other just the same. 

Your new life, the one you have been so afraid to accept ever since Mel moved out, is waiting for you with the door wide open.

Now is when you decide to take the leap forward, hand in hand with Sevika; promising yourself that you’ll never look back. 

[ilovechuuy4]

Hey! Idrk if ur active but I would like to request sub!Kunikida x m!reader smut :)

I have not been able to find smut BSD writers that will do m!reader and I'm desperate lol-

And when I'm taking your innocence I'll be corrupting your mind.

Sub!Kunikida x m!reader

warnings; sub!kuni, m!reader, !AMAB, s3xual intercourse, intense descriptions of the male sex, mlm intercourse, rimjob, n1ppleplay, pure smut small hints of angst, possibly OOC, aftercare wasn't wrote but was indeed given, unprotected intercourse, Cumming inside, etc etc.

A/N: Im so so so so sorry this was so delayed, nothing haz been going my way man Ive been feeling so sick lately and no motivation but I hope you enjoy😣(I'LL REQUEST SOME MLM BSD WRITERS AT THE END!! ) p.s e/c = eyecolor

"Can I top you?" The question ran through Kunikida's mind ever since his boyfriend asked. You had been talking with some friend recently about how uptight Kunikida was and maybe if he wasn't so focused on his ideals he'd be less tense. So of course, that's what led you to asking the question. But that's also what led him to be under you right now in the bed y'all shared together. Your hands slidding up and under the other man's shirt cause him to let out a soft gasp.

This was all so new to him he didn't really know how to react this wasn't "apart of his ideals" he wasn't supposed to be with another of the same gender. He'd always imagine himself with a beautiful woman and yet, here he stares up at a handsome man. One that he'd knew he'd marry one day. "Are you sure.? You know, about this?" Kunikida asked in a hushed tone which made you pause everything you were doing before looking at him, your deep e/c eyes looking lovingly into his moss green ones.

"Of course I am, Kuni. I wouldn't be doing this if I wasn't sure. Just relax and I'll do all the work, okay?" You reassured, hand gently cupping the blonde man's face your thumb rubbing his cheek. "Alright, I believe you." Kunikida hummed before he leaned in, kissing the man that sit on top of him. The kiss was slow and gentle, you smiled into it kissing him back. Your hands trailed down, fingers unbuttoning the tight pants that cover the other's pale legs. This was the first time that the ideal striken man ever went against those ideals that literally dictatated his life so you could completely understand why he was so nervous.

You slowly slip off his pants, pushing them down all the way until they were throw into a small pile on the hardwood flooring of the bedroom. You then allow a finger to hook under the waistband of Kunikida's boxers slowly pulling them down before his smooth cock springs to life leaving the man to gasp softly as the cold air touching his now exposed lower half. He looks at you from were he lay on the bed, his face painted with lust. "Are you alright?" You ask, you yourself wanted to continue but you wanted to make sure the other party wanted to as well.

"I'm sure, I'm just you know. Nervous." He said under his breath. You nod softly, grabbing the hem of your shirt before slipping it over your head. It was regarded before going down, taking one of the blonde's nipples into your mouth nipping at it slightly with your teeth before sucking on it. Soft whimpers were coming from deep within Kunikida's throat. Noises he wasn't sure how he made but here he was, squirming under your pleasurable acts of love.

"Be.. mhm~ be careful." Whined Kunikida, his breath coming in soft labored pants as you pull away. You swiftly pull off your shorts leaving you in only your boxers now. "Would if be fine if I were to..give you a rim job? I don't want you to be uncomfortable with anything I do." You asked, you wanted to make sure he wanted to do this. It was about his pleasure and comfort too. The room had fallen silent for a moment as you looked at your love, his face riddled with embarrassment yet he nodded. His entire trust in you was now as he slowly turned over and lay on his stomach.

A sly smirk played on your face, you lived how much trust he put into your though you've only did this once or twice in past relationships. You reach over, grabbing a pillow before slipping it right under his hips before diving down. Your hand gently squeezing one of the others asscheeks before spreading it. Dipping in your tongue pressed softly against his entrance, tasting him. You watch as he squirmed, back dipping into the mattress. You reach up, allowing your hand to trail along his pale skin that his spin pokes out of. Fingers slowly rubbing along his spine.

You allow yourself to lap at his hole, feeling as your lover slowly relaxed and let the pleasure take control. Moans from the opposing side filled the room as ever so slowly, you slipped your tongue inside him causing him to gasp, his back arching. "Wait, hold on a minute.." He gasped out, his legs trembling he wasn't sure how to react to this it was an odd feeling of tightness in him. You allowed yourself to wait for a moment before slowly pumping your tongue in and out of him before you slowly press a finger in as well, stretching him slowly.

"Relax for me, kuni. It feels weird but relax, your really tight." You said, pulling your tongue away allowing your finger to pump in and out of him slowly before adding another digit. "Fuck.." Kunikida cursed before speaking once more. "My mind is like a blur. Like you just scrambled my very last thought." He groaned, the two digits inside him still thrusting, stretching him open for you. "We don't have any condoms." You abruptly say which caused the blonde to choke on his spit before swallowing it down. "It's.. That's fine." He hummed with a nod soft whimpers escaping his mouth.

You couldn't help but worry for him, what if when yoy do penetrate he hurts. Well of course it will hurt, it's his first time but, you're just scared. You shake your head, swallowing down the uneasiness before withdrawing your fingers. You help kunikida turn over and you couldn't help but smile at his beet red face. You plaster feather light kisses all up his neck and to his jaw line before kissing him slowly. You felt the heaviness over the others arms wrapped around your shoulders as your tongue slips inside his mouth, exploring his sweetness.

You take this time to lube your member up and apply some to Kunikida's hole. You slowly position your cock to his entrance before rolling your hips slowly. Your tip pushes past the tight ring of muscle cause the other to moan into your mouth. Your free hand, which wasn't gripping the blonde's hips was softly wrapped around his cock, pumping it slowly so he didn't pay much mind to the slight pain of you entering him. Finally, you were have way in before the pain was gone as Kunikida was moaning, his back arched like a cat.

You can't handle it anymore, soft grunts escaping your throat before you swiftly push all the way in with a deep groan. You could feel how he tightly he squeezed around your cock which made you want to take him roughly. But you knew you shouldn't. You keep your pace steady, slowly thrusting in and out. Kunikida's moans were surprisingly loud as they filled the room. His short nails digging into your shoulders as your pace picked up. Your eyes widen a bit as you heard the other gasp, you thought you hurt him which made you stop.

"Are you okay?" You said, gently cupping your lover's face. He was panting heavily, his cock leaking pre before he spoke, his voice trembling. "It was just that spot you hit..it felt like no other." Kunikida mutters to him, his face red with embarrassment. You laugh softly before you press a kiss to his forehead, slowly rolling your hips back into motion as you pump your cock in and out of him. "Your prostate. That's what it was." You said reassuringly, letting him know it was totally normal.

You increase the pace, the tip of your member constantly hitting his prostate, causing his eyes to roll back in ecstasy. His loud moans echo off the wall, they were truely music to your ears. Kunikida's thoughts were jumbled and clouded he could only souly focus on how amazing this felt and how he'd never thought of reversing the rules like this with you. "Ahh~ fuck.. Wait!~ honey, keep hitting right there..~" He groaned, his eyes closing shut as he felt his orgasm build inside of him and bubble up.

"You're close, aren't you?" You asked, thrusting deeply inside him, hitting all the right places. You watch as he moans, his being trembling under yours. Pre was oozing from the tip of his cock as he whined and whimperer uncontrollably. He felt it all building up at once before he came,his eyes shut tightly as he rode out his orgasm. The way he tightened around you made you spill. Your seed shooting deep within his core.

You collapse onto him, panting heavily. "God, I love you. So so much." You say to him, pulling him on top of you when you turn on your back. You held him close, not wanting to leave him for a while. "I love you too. I adore you actually." He said, head rested on your chest. "Though, I could say you took more than my will to think. You took my ideals." He said softly, he was spent. His sentence made your heart swell up. You knew how much his ideals were to him and it was amazing how he'd give it up just for you.

A/N; Recommended BSD MLM writers; @melonn-soda @prettyrainsstuff @zzprompto @sleep-0-deprived @queer-n-here @kissatoru @kisakis-boyfriend @hunn1e-bunn1e @nishikiace

[aliensupastar]

i wouldn’t ask you

Rating: Mature

Pairing: Carmy Berzatto/GN!Reader

Word Count: 2.1k

Summary: You try to break your promise. Carmy won’t let you. Follow-up to “shouldn’t feel like a crime”

Part I Part II

Warnings: angst, hurt/comfort, fluff, depiction of an eating disorder, food issues, heart-to hearts, arguments, swearing

A/N: once again, thank y'all so much for the love on parts one and two of this fic, it brings me so much joy!! also, im terribly sorry for how long it took to write this. school happened and i think it got away from me a little bit, i did a lot of rewrites, and it's shorter than i'd like it to be but it’s something i’m finally satisfied with, and i hope you guys enjoy it! to anyone who’s sent me asks, left comments or replies telling me they connected with this fic, i hope it continues to bring you comfort as it has for me. i can’t express to you enough how much all your responses have meant to me. this will be the last part for this lil series, but im grateful to anyone who’s read n supported it. title insp by "i wouldn’t ask you" by clairo, gif by riickgrimes <3

Logically, you know that healing — if that’s what you could call what you were trying to do — isn’t linear. You’ve heard it a thousand times, and on some level, you know it’s true. Knowing it doesn’t stop the shame you feel when you start skipping the train, opting instead to walk, or on shittier days, run to work. 

At first you thought you’d been able to escape the anxiety that came with eating anything you didn’t know the exact calorie count of, that you’d been able to eat Carmy’s spaghetti without complication. In retrospect, it had merely been delayed, the calm and warmth afforded to you by Carmy’s presence wearing off as soon as you’d gotten into bed that night; you’d laid awake for another hour, paralyzed by your own panic. 

The only solution you found fit was to force yourself into physical activity, making your travel to and from work ten times more miserable, waking up an hour and a half earlier than usual just to get to the restaurant on time and still have ten minutes to freshen up and change into your uniform. You at least managed to make the change in your routine go unnoticed, still looking presentable once it was time to open for service, or at least you thought so. 

“Did you run here?” Sydney asks one morning, spotting you right as you clocked in and rushed to your locker to pull out your uniform. 

“Uh, yeah, I did.” You’re a little too breathless to come up with an excuse, to properly deflect her concern and surprise. 

“Okay…” She watches as you shove your other belongings into the locker space haphazardly. “Does that, like, happen often, or-“

“No,” You say, too quickly, shaking your head. “Just, uh, don’t tell Carmy?” 

You look up at her, eyes pleading, hoping she accepts this one request without question, hoping she can disregard something just this one time. 

“Tell Carmy what?” Hearing your boss’s voice makes you jump in shock, as he comes around the corner and spots you, hair messy and sweat still dripping down your temple. 

Your skill for being unnoticeable is escaping you, that much is clear. You’re essentially caught red-handed, a deer in headlights, eyes bouncing between Sydney and Carmy as you struggle to come up with something, anything to respond with. But Sydney swoops in just seconds after you freeze, granting you mercy, this one time. 

“Tell you to mind your own business, chef,” She says, her tone light-hearted so that you know to force out a laugh, and Carmy takes it. He gives a half-smile and shakes his head, heading over to his prep station and as soon as he’s out of sight, you look back at Sydney. 

“Thank you,” You whisper as you head for the bathroom, uniform in hand, and she nods, still looking concerned but thankfully, dropping it. 

Carmy’s the one who won’t drop it. It stays on his mind all day, even after you’ve changed clothes and fixed your hair and erased any trace of the mess you looked that morning; every free moment he has, he spends thinking of you. 

He wants to believe that you’d simply missed your train. An innocent, easy mistake. But the way you avoid meeting his eyes during service hours, no matter how many times he tries to get your attention, or get you to just look at him and confirm that you’re okay, tells him it’s more than that. 

He rushes through closing duties that night, just to make sure he’s good to leave before you finish closing up the front with Richie. He waits, sits in his office chair pretending to be busy until he sees you heading for the lockers, ready to clock out, and then moves to lean as casually as possible against the doorway. 

“You want a ride home?” He asks, interrupting you as you pull clothes out from the locker; the clothes you were wearing this morning, he realizes, a sweatshirt and biker shorts. Like you expect to break a sweat on the way home, too. 

“Nope. Thank you, chef, I’m good.” You barely even look over at him as you say it, and Carmy has to stop himself from making a face, making his displeasure visible. 

“I really don’t mind,” He tries again, but you just close your locker door and shake your head, ready — and desperate — to change out of your uniform in the bathroom before it’s time to lock up. You put on what you hope is an easy smile, but it comes off tense.

“I’m okay, Carm, really. It’s not like it’s raining-“

“Chef,” He interrupts you, suddenly stern. “C’mon.” 

He nods his head motioning for you to follow him, and it’s clear from his tone that there will be no room to argue. 

You trail behind him while he locks up, and on the way out to his car, you can feel that frustration building up inside you again. The same resentment and irritation you felt in the hospital, when he wouldn’t take your bullshit excuses in the same way that nurse or your other coworkers would, it rises and rises till you’re gripping your backpack strap a little too tight and shutting the car door a little too hard. 

You’re grateful, at the very least, that he says nothing when tears start to spill out and down your face as he drives you home. 

You sit in silence for a minute when Carmy pulls into your building’s parking lot. You can’t bring yourself to leave at first, part of you still craving to savor his presence for as long as you can, even if the other part of you is too angry to even look at him. 

“You wanna talk?” He asks quietly. 

“Nope.” His question is enough to set you off, pushing the car door open and furiously wiping away your tears as you haul yourself out. 

Logically, Carmy knows it might be best to leave you alone for tonight. Let you calm down and attempt reconciliation tomorrow morning. Knowing it doesn’t stop the feeling that he can’t just leave you alone, and let you walk away upset. 

“Hey,” He calls out, opening his own door and moving to follow you. “C’mon-“

“Fuck you, Carmen.” You spit out. 

He’s undeterred, even if you don’t turn back to face him once, refusing to acknowledge him tailing you the entire way up to your apartment. 

You don’t tell him to leave you alone, to stop following you, to fuck off. You don’t even slam your front door in his face like he half-expects you to. Instead it hangs open as you storm into your living room, a silent invitation. An invitation Carmy doesn’t hesitate to accept, stepping through your door and carefully closing it behind him. 

He’s still wracking his brain on what to say, clueless on how to stop the tears flowing down your face as you toss your backpack down and meekly lower yourself to sit on the floor between your couch and the coffee table, knees pulled into your chest. 

“Will you just fuckin’ talk to me?” He finds himself pleading with you again after a minute, but his helplessness in the face of your distress makes his words come out callous, and you just scoff. 

“Don’t be a dickhead, Carmy.”

“I’m a dickhead? I-I’m the dickhead, for giving a fuck?” You lift your head to glare at him, and you can see that he wants to match your anger; all the tell-tale signs of an upcoming screaming match appearing in his features, scrunching up his face as he repeats your words back to you, and you know you’re not being fair. You promised him you’d let him in, allow him to help stop you from going off the deep end again, and yet you’re the one resisting him. You wish he’d let the frustration on his face overtake him, walk out your door and leave you alone with your mind. 

He doesn’t, no matter how much you will him to. His eyes meet your own, filled with misplaced ire, and all he does is lean his head back and sigh, running a hand over his face and forcing himself to curtail the urge to give in to your bait. 

“You don’t wanna talk, I’ll talk,” He starts tentatively, before saying maybe the last thing you’d expect: “I’m sorry.” 

Your narrowed eyes widen, the contempt in them turning to pure shock, but he barely notices. 

“I didn’t mean to- if I went too far, the other day, with the spaghetti. I didn’t mean to set you off like that. I’m sorry.” The absolute sincerity in his voice as he apologizes for something you know isn’t on him — it’s too much. 

You’d love to pass the blame off on somebody else. If you could find a single other person to hold accountable for causing the near-constant state of discomfort that you’ve been stuck in for weeks, the distress of living in your own body, you think you’d jump at the chance. But you can’t bring yourself to do it to the one person who’s offered to take the fault away from you, because even now, after you’ve lashed out at him, he’s deliberately gentle with you. 

You can see Carmy is ready to move towards your front door, you’ve sat here for too long without giving him a response, weeping silently. And maybe that would be the right thing to do after breaking your promise, letting him worry over you till he thinks he’s the one who owes you an apology. But selfishly, you reach up and grasp his arm before he can even turn to leave, gently tugging him down to sit with you, and he lets you. 

“I’m sorry,” You start once he’s settled next to you, your voice still thick with tears. “I know what we talked about in the hospital. I haven’t been- I fucked all that up, I know, I’m sorry.” He’s shaking his head, looking like he wants to refute you, but you continue on.

“I just… I’m so fucking scared,” You nearly choke on your words, but it’s a relief to get them out, and suddenly you can’t stop the rest from spilling from your mouth. “I’m scared of getting better. I can’t stand the thought of it, I don’t even- I don’t know what I’d be for, if I wasn’t like this all the time. And it’s fucking embarrassing. That’s all I feel, all the time, just- constant fear, and shame. I can’t fucking stop myself.” 

You take a pause, doing your best to breathe deep and avoid Carmy’s intent gaze, so you don’t lose your nerve.

“We were good, for a bit, and I wasn’t so… out of control. But then I fucked it, and I-I couldn’t just, tell you. Felt like, for once there was someone who understood, and I just wanted to keep the rest of it out of sight, I guess.” 

It’s the most you’ve expressed to anyone about this. You think maybe you’ve gone too far, that maybe now you’ll have alienated the one person you’ve been honest with in years. But when you finally look up at Carmy, he’s nodding thoughtfully, no trace of judgment or pity in his expression. 

“I don’t.” He says carefully. “I don’t really understand. I-I don’t think I could, uh-” He pauses, clasping one hand over the other tightly, like it pains him to force his words out, too. “I guess, growin’ up, food was basically a love language. It was how I bonded with Mikey, it’s why I wanted to do this job in the first place. So, to avoid food… I don’t think I can imagine what that’s like.” 

All you can do is nod. You shouldn’t have made him listen to you vent your emotions, you should’ve let him walk out your door-

“But, I’d like to try. If that’s what you want.” He says, interrupting your spiral. “I just need to know you’re safe. Shutting me out like this – it’s bullshit. I’m not gonna just- stop caring. Even if it’s ugly. Just don’t shut me out.” 

His earnestness practically shoots you in the chest, filling you with that warm, familiar feeling that usually comes with his presence. You want to push against it, you haven’t earned it back, it’s too damn much.

“Even if I… end up in the hospital again?” You say, trying to keep your tone light, but you can’t keep the pleading out of your voice. 

“I’d drive you to the hospital a hundred times.” Carmy replies, completely genuine, and now you can’t push back against the urge to throw your arms around him, burying your face in his chest. 

You don’t know how long you sit there, on the hard floors of your living room, arms tight around each other, breathing together. All you know is that you don’t want him to leave; he makes no move to go. 

a few people asked to be tagged on this part, so here you go! @rexorangecouny @moonlight-sonata99 @kpopgirlbtssvt

[changbinsboiledegg]

Hi!! I love your writing and I was wondering if you could do skz reactions to another member walking in on them and their gf doing the dirty? 😅

lmao sure anon. Digital footprint go brrr (thank you for the request ily 🫶)

Fem! Reader X SKZ. MDNI. MDNI. MDNI.

Warnings: Smut, ofc. Kinda explicit?, Unprotected or protected seggs, I didn't specify, swearing, implied vaginal, edging, cum mentions???, Overstimulation, teasing. Am I forgetting any?

Note: I'm not very good with smut BUT this is just a reaction post. I can do better probably. Also, I included some humorous shit because I got nervous. lol. Hope y'all enjoy :)

MDNI!!! Also if smut makes you uncomfy, pls skip (obviously).

♥︎♥︎♥︎♥︎♥︎♥︎♥︎♥︎♥︎♥︎♥︎♥︎♥︎♥︎♥︎♥︎

Chan

“What’s wrong? Can’t handle it anymore, baby girl?” Chan teased, pinning you down against the bed as he snapped his hips into yours, eliciting a loud moan that became muffled when he moved a hand over your mouth.

You were almost on the ledge of release and he as well.

You almost didn’t notice the door opening in the midst of all of the pleasure between you two.

“Oh my god!”

You and Chan both ceased any form of intimacy and quickly scrambled to cover yourselves as Jeongin covered his eyes and turned around.

“Jesus, Jeongin! What do you want?!” Chan sounded frustrated at being interrupted.

“I heard a cry, I thought something was wrong!” Jeongin’s cheeks flushed with embarrassment.

Chan glanced at you, then back at Jeongin.

“Please, just… get out for a while…”

With that, Jeongin left without a second prompt.

Lee Know

Minho was teasing the entire time as you begged for him to just insert himself inside of you.

And he did. Slowly guiding himself into your wetness, thrusting once, and then pulling out. You whined, beginning to get frustrated. Minho smirked at this, rubbing the tip against your aching clit.

“Fucking hell! Just please—“

“Hey, Minho! Do you still have my—“ Jisung stopped, immediately going wide eyed and dropping his phone.

“I’m so sorry! I just— I didn’t see anything! Promise!” Jisung frantically apologized, leaving the room.

You exchanged an embarrassed glance with Minho, frozen in place before Jisung came in again, his hand over his eyes as he fumbled for his phone.

“Saw nothing! Just getting my phone!”

Changbin

You already came— twice. But Changbin had no mercy. He loved seeing you cum.

And he wanted to make you cum again.

“You can do it. I know you can.” Changbin gently spread your clenched thighs open again as they shook from your previous orgasm.

“Fuck, Changbin—“ You squirmed, gripping the bed sheets as he positioned himself over your entrance.

“Say the safe word and I will stop.” Changbin cooed, waiting for a response.

However, you didn’t say anything. You wanted to cum again. Right as he slid himself inside of you again, the door swung open.

“Oh.” It took Seungmin a few seconds to process what was going on. Seeing you quivering was enough to make him instantly leave the room, forgetting to shut the door in his embarrassment.

You looked at Changbin and said the safe word.

Hyunjin

Hyunjin was gentle every step of the way from the moment you started. He made sure not to grip your hips too tight or thrust too fast or hard unless you asked.

But you hadn’t asked, wanting it to be just as special as he did.

“You’re so pretty like this.” Hyunjin breathlessly complimented you, meaning every word he said. You stifled back a moan, knowing you needed to be quiet during this, especially since the other members were still there, lingering.

You squeezed your eyes shut, on the brink of orgasm but it was delayed and stopped when Hyunjin frantically got off and covered both of you up.

You almost took the blanket off before realizing Felix was standing in the doorway, hand covering his mouth.

Hyunjin rolled his eyes, a bit irritated.

“You act like you’ve never seen two people have—“

“I’m leaving! I am leaving!” Felix cut him off, shutting the door behind him but accidentally slamming it in the process.

“Sorry!” His faint voice called back through the door.

Han

It was your first time with him, although it was a little awkward at first, the more you explored each others bodies, the more comfortable you got with each other.

“I love you.” Jisung whispered in your ear, guiding your hips as you rode him on the edge of the bed. You bit your lip to muffle the moans that left your mouth, feeling your legs shaking the longer you rode.

“I love you too.” You managed to gasp out. Jisung smiled breathlessly before pressing his lips against your neck, softly sucking on the skin between his lips.

You quietly whimpered and gasped, feeling yourself letting go.

“Seriously? Now? Come on!” Minho’s voice halted you to a stop as you widened your eyes, not wanting to look back at him.

“Privacy please!” Jisung stammered out, grabbing a pillow and attempted to cover your backside with it. Minho was already on his way out, pausing at the door.

“You better be using protection!” Then he left. You and Jisung were horrified for a few seconds before laughing off the embarrassment.

Felix

“I am all yours tonight.” Felix leaned back, watching you as you undressed yourself. You walked over to him, straddling him with a smirk.

“And I, am all yours.” You gently pushed him to where he was flat on his back. You leaned down to kiss him, slow at first, then each kiss after progressively became more and more desperate as you helped him undress as well.

“Ready?”

“Yes.” Felix mumbled, taking in a deep breath, wanting nothing more than to see you be the one to take control. You kissed his jaw and down to his neck as he worked his fingers around the clasp of your bra.

You helped him, momentarily pausing and tossing it to the floor beside the bed. Felix’ hands roamed your body, grasping and rubbing any part he could reach before rolling you on your back and spreading your legs apart.

You turned your head, seeing Hyunjin walking in. He didn’t seem to notice you and Felix until his eyes landed on your bra.

“Hyunjin?” You muttered, feeling the panic set in. Felix didn’t see him yet, being more focused on you.

“Hyunjin? What does he—”

Hyunjin gasped loudly and quickly rushed outside of the room, causing Felix’ head to snap in his direction.

“Oh my god!”

Seungmin

His hands roamed your chest, trailing down to your stomach and stopping on your thighs, rubbing his hands against them as his lips were pressed to your neck. Seungmin’s hands inched up towards the top of your thighs before maneuvering a hand between your legs, feeling the damp cloth.

“Already?” Seungmin teased, his breath was warm against your neck as you softly moaned, slightly bucking your hips against his hand.

Seungmin pulled his face back, glancing down, then into your eyes. “Wet and needy. Patience is a virtue, you know.”

You whined, throwing your head back. “I am needy! I need you now!”

You didn’t say anything in specific, but he knew what you meant. Seungmin smirked, pulling the cloth down your thighs, taking them off and exposing to him just how wet you were.

On instinct, you parted your legs and leaned back on your elbows as Seungmin placed his hand back where it was, only this time there wasn’t a barrier.

“More?”

“Seung—”

A scream erupted, coming from the doorway where a shocked Changbin stood. His scream was so loud that you scream as well, startled as you closed your legs together. Seungmin got up to block you, still dressed, unlike you.

“Changbin, what the hell?”

Changbin quickly turned around, mumbling to himself as he shut the door behind him.

I.N

Jeongin hovered over you, both of you still dressed, but just as needy for each other as you made out on the couch. Your lips messily clashed with his as his hand made it’s way up your shirt and towards your the hem of your bra.

Your hand moved down his chest and stopping on his stomach while your other hand gripped the back of his shoulder. He began to grind his hips against yours when you wrapped your legs around his waist.

The other members were outside and weren’t expected to be back inside for another hour. Jeongin wasn’t particularly worried about getting caught as long as he— and you, were quiet and quick.

You lifted his shirt to remove it. Jeongin removed his lips from yours momentarily and sat up, helping you remove it. He then did the same to you, removing your shirt and leaving you in your bra.

Right as he was about to press his lips against yours again, the sound of collective chattering interrupted you both and soon the whole group entered. No one was prepared for what they just saw.

You and Jeongin scrambled for your shirts, slipping them back on.

“Oh my god! That’s what the rooms are for!” Chan’s eyes were glued to the floor. In fact, none of the other members were actually looking at you and Jeongin.

They were as flushed as you were, only slightly less.

“On the couch too?” Minho sighed as Jeongin ran to his room, pulling you with him.

Before the door closed, you heard Hyunjin say, “Guess we have to get the couch cleaned again.”

Note 2: Does nobody know how to lock a door???? be so fucking fr now. LMAO

[d0wnb4df0rf1cm3n]

Exposure therapy.

Bucky x Reader

Summary: Bucky tends to avoid crowded spaces. He's afraid of something - either being recognised or being trapped or something else. He doesn't know. When you offer to help him get out of his comfort zone. He can't resist.

Word Count: 4.5K

Warnings: Creepy weirdo men (not Bucky), therapy, smut

AN: I'm sorry I make it seem like the Reader hates Raynor, it just kinda happened. Happy Wednesday y'all!!!!

You dipped into the subway, dodging in between passengers - it was rush hour and the subway was disturbingly crowded. You scrambled onto the platform, praying that your train was slightly delayed so you could get on in time. It wasn't.

You stood on the platform as more and more peopled filtered, the noise building to a cacophony of miserable voices. You took a step back, trying to back away from the edge, when a man shoved you through the crowd. You stumbled forward.

A gloved hand wraps around your arm, pulling you back towards the middle of the platform and into a warm chest. You start to pull away, not keen to be leaning into a stranger. A familiar cologne hit you. You’d bought him that cologne. You looked up to see a welcome face.

Bucky.

A vicious scowl was etched into his face, his arm now firmly around your waist. You smile up at him, and he catches your smile, returning it with a soft one of his own. You reach to hold onto his hand as the train pulls up to the platform. You both step on, grabbing onto the bar and jolting as the train gets going.

Bucky leans down to your ear, “You okay, doll?”

His hot breaths elicit shivers all down your spine. You nod at him, unable to push any words out and he looks at your peculiarly. He’s never known you to be lost for words.

You met Bucky once he started his court-mandated therapy sessions. You were the receptionist at the clinic, and you knew Dr Raynor’s reputation for being thorough – although it was your personal opinion that maybe, sometimes, she could take it easy on some of her patients. Bucky was one of them.

You’d gathered a lot from the months that he had been going to therapy. The major thing was that therapy was the reason he was usually in such a poor mood. If he walked in in a bad mood, his mood when he left was positively foul. He didn’t like how Dr Raynor pried – even if that was, in fact, part of the point of his therapy.

You’d gathered that he was quite a lonely man. In fact, when he first started coming to therapy, the fact you smiled at him surprised him. He’d warmed up to it over it, and nowadays, when he came to the office, he greeted you before you greeted him.

You started finding jokes to tell, or little interesting facts – anything to make him smile. You offered sweets to the kids, words of warmth to the adults, and jokes to Bucky. It all worked out. He laughed at your jokes, in the same way the kids enjoyed their sweets and the adults appreciated to the adults.

Unbeknownst to you, Bucky looked forward to seeing you. He was surprised by your smile – but only how beautiful it was. He’d never seen pure sunshine until he saw your face break into a smile. In fact, the sun could go dark, but he knew that the world would only adapt to revolve around you. He knew that his already did.

On his birthday, you were the only person who gave him a present – a rather expensive cologne that you had splurged on. You wanted him to feel special. Turns out you didn’t need to go to those lengths. You were one of very few people who even knew it was his birthday.

Bucky made a point of buying you flowers from time to time after that – and you made a point of hiding them from Raynor. You didn’t want your budding friendship to be another thing she digs deep into. He also wore the cologne every time you saw him, which made you smile. At least he liked the gift.

He got off at your stop with you, even though you insisted he didn’t need to. Something about, ‘it’s on my way,’ and ‘I’d feel better if I knew you got home safe, doll.’ You smiled as he walked next to you, hands tucked into his pockets, leading the way to your apartment. You walked in a comfortable silence, the noise of Brooklyn blaring all around you

“How was it?” You asked, looking up at him.

“Hmm?”

“The subway. How was it?” You knew that Bucky generally got quite claustrophobic. He’d avoided the subway for the first few months of living in Brooklyn and, even now, only took it when he absolutely needed to.

He looked at you, his eyes full of amused frustration, “Could be worse.” He lowered his voice, hoping you wouldn’t hear him, “Was better ‘cause it was with you.”

You smiled, “Call it exposure therapy.”

“Exposure therapy? What’s that?”

“It’s where you face your fears by confronting them head on.” He looked at you, still confused, “You know how you’re scared of enclosed spaces?” He nodded his head, “Well, exposure therapy would put you in an enclosed space – like the subway – to confront your fear.”

Bucky nodded his head, mulling over your words in his head. It doesn’t sound like a bad idea.

You came to your apartment lobby, Bucky following you inside. You told him that this is where you left him, and that you’d see him next week, same place, same time.

You were heading toward your apartment when he stopped you, “You know the exposure therapy thing you mentioned?”

You turned back around, “Yeah?”

“Is that a real thing?”

You nodded your head. Bucky swallowed nervously, not sure how to ask the question. You read his mind, “You wanna give it a go?”

He nodded. You grabbed his hand gently, rubbing your thumb over his knuckles.

“You should probably talk to the professional about how to actually go about it,” you chuckled at how his face darkened at the mention of Raynor, “but I’d love to help you out. Whatever you need.”

Bucky watched you as you disappeared into the stairwell, smiling all the way.

Just like you said, Bucky brought the idea of exposure therapy up with Dr Raynor in his next session. Surprisingly, she was almost immediately on board. She figured that it would be a good way for Bucky to get out of his comfort zone and confront some of his more irrational fears.

He immediately told you. You squealed – a sound that definitely shocked Bucky – grabbing his phone from his hand and adding your number as a contact.

He changed your contact to 'Doll' – not that it was necessary seeing that the only people that ever texted or called were Sam and Raynor. Guess you were another person to add the extremely exclusive club.

The next morning you dragged him to a coffee shop. Not just any coffee shop. The local Starbucks. You drag him in during the rush hour, holding his hand as he grumbles in the line.

"Did we really have to start this extreme?" He says, gazing behind and in front of him. You squeeze his hand, reassuringly.

"You'll be fine. Know what you want?"

You shuffled forward as another person moved out of the line.

The Starbucks worker sighed as you and Bucky walked up to the front of the line. You smiled at Bucky as he gripped your hand, unassuredly.

"Hi - um - can I - uh - get - uh... -" Bucky stumbled over his words. You ran your fingers over his knuckles soothingly, "cold brew - the smallest size."

The worker nodded his head, "that'll be...-" You drowned out his words as you stared up at Bucky's face. His face was still contorted in a grimace, but there was a glint of pride in his eyes. You gave yourself a mental high five.

Bucky paid for his drink and waited as you ordered an iced caramel macchiato with oat milk. Bucky wasn't sure he knew what any of that meant but he looked in awe as you complimented the cashier and made him blush. You had that kind of effect on people.

You grabbed your drinks and went to sit in Central Park, the sun streaming through the trees as you found a bench. You rested your arm next to his, keeping the contact between the two of you minimal.

"You like it?" You asked, staring him in the face. He took a sip and pulled a face.

"Too bitter." He said, sticking his tongue in disgust. You laughed. He celebrated internally, desperate to hear that sound directed toward him again.

"Really?" I thought you would have liked it. You know, given the dark and brooding look you've got going on." You deadpanned. He shoved you gently and you laughed again.

"Try mine," you said, handing over your drink and grabbing his. Yours was much nicer than his, sweeter and more milk too. He smiled in response and took another sip, "Keep it. I like cold brew." He tried to change your mind and hand you back your drink, but you were adamant.

"Let's play a game."

He looked at you, questioningly.

"20 questions."

He turned to face you.

"Rules are: one person asks a question both answer it...-"

"That's not how '20 questions' usually works."

"Well, that's how it works now. Also rapid-fire: you have to say the first thing that comes to mind."

"Ok, shoot." He leaned back, resting on his arm, occasionally taking sips from the macchiato.

"Favourite colour?" You went first, starting simple.

"Yellow," He said, not really thinking. His face blushed when his mind caught up to him though. You noted that for later.

"Mine's blue, like the sea." You responded, staring intently into his eyes. Bucky's eyes were blue, just like the sea on a stormy day. Easy to get lost in. Easy to get found in. Those eyes told you where home was. "Your turn."

"Ok, umm- favourite hobby?"

"Umm, I like painting. Helps me relax. Used to paint a lot as a kid, probably need to do it more often." Bucky stared at your lips as you talked, mesmerised by the way they move. "What about you, Buck?

"Me? Oh, I like reading."

"Oh yeah? What kind of books?"

"The Hobbit. Was my favourite back in the day. Read it with Steve all the time." He became quiet at the mention of his best friend, and you reached out to rest a hand on his.

"You wanna know my other favourite hobby?" Bucky nodded, meeting your eyes, "Helping my favourite super soldier get out of his comfort zone." Bucky's eyes lit up at that.

You stood up, offering Bucky your hand. He grabbed, faking back pain as he stood up. "Where to next, doll?"

"We're going grocery shopping." The groan that left him made you laugh out loud.

You walked into the Target near the compound. Neither of you actually lived in the compound, but this Target was bigger than any of the Targets in the city. You figured the bigger the Target, the more likely it was that Bucky would get out of his comfort zone.

He grabbed your hand and squeezes it tightly. You smiled up at him as you pulled out a trolley. Bucky grabbed it from you, hands tightening around the bar. You linked your arm with his.

"Ready?"

"No."

You smirked, patting his arm, "You'll be fine."

You perused through the aisles, occasionally handing Bucky an item. If you were too short to grab something, he'd reach up over your head and grab it for you. You flushed at that - the feeling of being caged between Bucky made you feel safe. Like nothing could ever touch you.

You walked ahead of Bucky, leaning on your tiptoes to grab some eggs from the shelf. You grab the carton, placing it in the trolley. He looks at you lovingly, your cheeks blushing under his gaze.

"Excuse me, could you move?" An old man shoves past the both of you. Bucky's gaze immediately hardens. The old man continues to grumble under his breath.

He moves to say something, but you grab his hand, shaking your head. Bucky pulls you into his chest, leaning to press his lips to your forehead. Butterflies erupt in your stomach as surprise washes over you. Clearly, his actions caught up to him as he froze up, muscles tightening under your hands. He tried to pull away but you keep your face nuzzled in his chest, arms wrapping tighter around him. You smiled as he relaxed into your hug.

He leaned down to whisper in your ear, "Should we get going, doll? More things to buy."

You nodded but kept your hand in his. He smiled as you leaned into him. This was nice. He could get used to this.

You finished shopping, scanning your things through in the self-service. You didn't have that many items, but Bucky refused to let you pay, whipping out the card that Stark gave him, with the excuse that he didn't use it enough - especially, given the amount of money that Stark had put on it.

You were giddy. Your shopping trip was a success - Bucky now knew that supermarkets weren't even half as scary as he thought. In fact, he even smiled at a worker on his way out.

Bucky helped you load the two shopping bags onto his bike, before strapping the helmet onto your head. You could get used to this.

After that day, you guys went out regularly. You tried restaurants and diners (Bucky preferred diners because it was less fancy and he felt more at home - "haven't changed much from the 40s", he'd said), you tried the gym (or rather, you dragged him to the gym with you on a random Tuesday morning when you had a spin cycle class - it wasn't that bad but Bucky stuck to training at the compound), you even took him to the cinema when they were showing a 'Lord of the Rings' rerun (Bucky almost kissed you when he heard the plan, but restrained himself - there was no way he was scaring you away now).

Therapy with Dr. Raynor became more bearable because it was just another excuse to see you. He'd put more effort into how he looked - combing his hair, keeping his beard trimmed how he knew you liked it.

Raynor picked up on it.

"I see your exposure therapy experiment is going well. What kinds of things have you been up to?"

Bucky stared out the window.

"James?"

He looked Raynor in the eye, before glancing at you through the window in the door. It was barely a shape, due to the frosted treatment on the window, but he knew it was you. He always knew.

"Shopping. She took me to the mall yesterday."

"That's a big step." Raynor said, noting that down with her pen, "How was it?"

"Wasn't that bad. We went into a shop she likes, then she asked me to pick a shop." Bucky looked down at his hands.

You had taken him into Sephora, promising him you only needed to get one thing. You run out of your favourite mascara and just needed to grab a tube. Bucky didn't know what mascara was, nor did he particularly care, but he followed you into the store nevertheless. You picked up the mascara you were looking for but kept milling around, looking to see if anything caught your fancy.

Bucky's hand found yours with relative familiarity, and you pulled him around as you explored. A man from across the shop gave him a sympathetic look.

You left Bucky for a moment to pick up a couple of face masks when the man from across the store made his way over. He patted Bucky on the shoulder amicably.

"Feel for you brother," he chuckled, moving past him. Bucky was confused.

You lined up behind him, mascara, face masks, and some liquid blush that you'd been meaning to get for a while in hand. You paid for the items, wishing the cashiers a good day. When you walked out, you asked Bucky where he wanted to go. It wasn't until you got to the clothes shop that he realised what the man meant.

He'd thought you guys were dating. The thought alone made Bucky want to smile. He gripped your hand tighter and didn't go for the rest of the trip.

Bucky looked up at Raynor and continued, "Then we got food and I dropped her home. Same as usual."

Raynor nodded, "Did it help?"

He shrugged, "I probably wouldn't go again. The mall isn't my kinda place."

"Why? Did something happen?"

"Too many teenagers."

Raynor smirked at that, "Any plans for this weekend?"

"Sam's taking me to a bar. Says we need a post-mission stress reliever."

Raynor nodded, "That'll be good for you, James. Enjoy it."

She stood up to open the door and Bucky followed closely behind. He left, wishing Raynor a good evening, before walking up to you with a smile.

"What can I do for my favourite super soldier today?" You asked, placing the sign-in/sign-out sheet in front of him.

"Maybe consider spending your Friday night at a bar with me?" He asked, nervousness hidden behind his confident facade. This was the first time he'd ever asked you on something resembling a date.

You saw through his front, "Is this just because you don't want Sam to spend the entire night trying to set you up with someone?"

"Maybe?"

You laughed.

"Is that a yes?"

"Sure, Buck. I'll go to the bar with you. Pick me up at 7? I'll send you the address."

When you opened the door to your apartment, Bucky's jaw dropped. He thought he'd died and gone to heaven and you were the angel waiting to ring him in.

You smiled at his awestruck expression, patting his cheek before grabbing your hand and leading him to the stairwell he had just walked up. He followed you like a puppy.

He fastened the helmet tightly on your head, before speeding down the road, going as fast as you like it. You rest your head on his back, arms wrapped tightly around his waist.

You waltzed into the bar together, Sam's status as the new Captain America making it easy to skip the queue. You grabbed drinks - a cosmopolitan for you and an old fashioned for him. You teased him for his choice but Bucky just smiled.

You looked around for Sam, but he was nowhere to be found "Probably caught up doing Captain America stuff," you tell Bucky, whose eyebrows had been furrowed almost since you arrived.

You drag Bucky to the dance floor after two drinks, and you stay there for half the night, waiting for Sam to show up. You dance and dance and dance, teaching Bucky some new moves that wouldn't have been legal the last time that Bucky came out dancing with a girl. Bucky's phone buzzed in his pocket.

He leaned down to whisper in your ear, "Sam's calling, I'll be back in a second." You smile up at him, continuing to dance once he'd left.

Not minutes had passed, when you feel a presence behind you. Thinking it was Bucky, you turn around to smile at him, only to come face to face with a greasy smile. He placed his hands on your ass, and you shoved him away, walking towards the bartender.

"Come on, sweetcheeks. Let us have some fun." You walked through the crowd faster, not looking back. He was still following you.

Bucky. He was outside, he could help you.

You made a beeline for the exit, hoping that the creep was far enough behind you, you could get away unseen. You weren't so lucky. He grabbed your hand and pushed you up against the door, arm pressing against your breasts. The door gave way as you pushed against the release latch, causing you to both go stumbling outside.

Bucky was right outside the door, trying to call Sam back, when you came flying through the door. He instantly pocketed his phone, striding towards you as you backed away from your pursuer.

You bumped into his chest, immediately pulling away to face him. You relaxed when you saw it was Bucky, grabbing his shirt and moving behind him.

"You can't hide from me, you little slut." Bucky saw red.

He grabbed the guy by his shirt and pushed him up against the wall, flesh hand coming up to slap his face. "Don't ever call my girl anything again, you hear me?"

You preened at 'my girl', hoping that it was true, that you were truly and honestly his girl.

Bucky let the man go as a bouncer came around the side of the building. He nodded towards Bucky, who explained that "he tried to grab my girl, chased her out the building."

There it was again. 'My girl.'

The bouncer grabbed the man by the scuff of his neck and threw him out onto the curb. Bucky turned to face you, hands stroking the side of his face. He looked intently into your eyes, searching for a hint of pain or fear. There was nothing. All he could see was love, radiating from your gaze and warming him from top to toe.

You grabbed his face and pulled him down, your lips pressing onto his. He melted into the kiss, eyes closing as he took over, tongue slipping between your lips as you gasped. A small whimper escaped you.

"Doll, you're driving me crazy."

"Take me home, Barnes."

He practically raced from the bar to his bedroom, carrying you up every flight of stairs. He gently rested you on the bed, ripping his shirt and jacket off in eagerness. He crawled on top of you as you reach to attach your lips to his. The kiss is long, messier than before, teeth and tongue fighting for dominance. You pulled away for air, resting your forehead against his.

He kissed you again, excitement pouring off of him, before moving to kiss down your jaw and in between your breasts. He eased your top off, leaving you in your bra, and kissed down your belly button to the top of your trousers. He asked for your consent with your eyes, hooking his fingers in your waistband. You nodded vigorously. He pulled your trousers down, discarding them against the floor. You took off your own bra, throwing it into the pile of your clothes. His eyes were fixed on your breasts for a few moments before he turned back to your cunt.

He buried his face in your clothed cunt, his hyper-sensitive smell craving the scent of your arousal. He teased you with his metal finger, rubbing circles around your clit. You arched up against him, whines slipping out of your mouth.

Those sounds made the blood rush straight to his cock.

He swiftly pulls your panties away, throwing them nearby your trousers. He buried his face between your thighs, nosing at your clit as he licked stripes up and down your lips. You whined, begging for more stimulation, and Bucky happily obliged. He moved to licking and sucking your swollen clit, the ministrations making you shiver and shake as you call his name, moaning loud enough for his neighbours to hear. Your thighs clenched around his head, trapping his face in your cunt. He watched as your squirmed, eyes trained on your pleasure-ridden face. He grabbed your thighs, massaging them under his hands, liking the feel of the flesh of your ass in his hand. He felt more possessive of you than ever. This was his.

His fingers moved to work their way into your pussy, it clenching tightly at the intrusion and overload of pleasure. He moved his fingers in and out slowly, picking up the pace of his tongue on your clit. You arched your back again. He smacked your thigh, wanting to gauge your reaction - you moaned loudly and your cunt clenched around his fingers. He growled out how fucking good you taste and how good you are for him. Your cunt clenched again at his praise.

"Oh, you like that? You like being my good little girl?" You moaned in response, "Oh sweetheart, I could eat you out for hours. Look at how pretty you are shaking and shivering for me."

His fingers sped up inside you, pounding into you. You came with a loud moan of his name and a shudder, collapsing against the bed in exhaustion.

The flush on your face and your fucked out expression made Bucky's cock impossibly harder.

He grabbed a condom from the nightstand, and pulled off his trousers and his boxers, discarding them somewhere. His dick was hard against his abs, tip red and leaking. He rolled the condom down his dick.

He pulled you down to the edge of the bed, flipping you over. "Ready for round 2?"

You nod enthusiastically.

"That's my good little girl."

He slid into you easily, giving you a minute to adjust to the stretch. He started off slow, but quickly lost control, yanking your hips up to meet his relentless thrusts. The super-soldier stamina mixed with the way you made him feel, made him all the more driven to push you over the edge again. The sound of your pussy when he drove back into you made him groan, your tits bouncing at the force of his thrusts. He reached forward to play with them, flicking and pulling the nubs as he pounded into you. You moaned, your face buried into a pillow as he pulled your hips back against his.

Bucky lifted your back up to his chest, rubbing at your clit with his metal hand, the flesh one remaining on your tits. You pulled it up, curling the fingers around your throat.

"Oh, you're a dirty girl." He squeezed a little, loving how your pussy clenched at the oxygen deprivation. You came seconds later, shaking as he kept fucking you through your orgasm, telling you how you’re gonna give him another one.

He spilled his own load into the condom moments later, pulling out and pulling you into his chest, both of your hearts beating impossibly fast.

He helped you clean up, wiping your body with a wet cloth after disposing of the used condom, helping you into a pair of his boxers, and giving you a t-shirt to cover everything else.

"Not that you need to. I appreciate having some eye candy to look at," he said cockily, holding the shirt over your head, just out of your reach

You looked up at him, hands covering your naked tits, "Where's this cocky energy when we're out in shops, huh? Would've made exposure therapy so much easier."

He dumped the t-shirt on your head and shoved you lightly as you burst into laughter, pulling on the t-shirt before throwing your arms around his neck.

"S'only for you. All for you." He said, carrying you back into bed and wrapping his arms around you, "Always for you."

"Love you, Buck."

"Love you too, Doll."

[victoria-daydreams]

The Winner Takes It All ||Challengers

Part II: Maneaters

AN: I'm back y'all! I'm sorry for the delay in posting, classes are over but my god did work quickly fill the vacuum of the little free time I had. Buckle up everyone, we're experiencing our first time jump! And once again, a big thank you to has followed this story!

Trigger warnings: slight homophobia

Word Count: 6.1k

Taglist: @seriousaliysa @hopeless-y @malscorner @miximora @urfavesim @mmmunson @jackierose902109 @youngestxhearts @blkdivinefeminine @kalikailz @lottiematthewsceo @lonnie2390147 @begoniaespresso @everydayimagineer @pnkstali @softimgyu @amethystwonders11 @hazbinh0e @ysuftmikey @summerssover @hummusxx @callumturnerwife23 @whitewashedghanian @brunettegirl @igotmajordaddyissues

I tried to tag everyone who commented, but tumblr is being weird so I don’t know if you’ll get the notification.

Part III: The First Crack

13 YEARS LATER - NEW ROCHELLE, AUGUST 2019

In the mostly empty lobby bar of The Ritz-Carlton, a woman occupied the furthest seat of the counter, alone. Her eyes were glued to the screen of her iPad Air as vibrant, moving images reflected perfectly in her eyes. "Electric Lady" by Janelle Monae played in the background of the video while several women and a few men were dancing or goofing around against a lilac backdrop. The camera cut to a shot of a smiling woman, striking several posses for it, showing off the makeup flawlessly applied to her face. Suddenly, the woman was lightly shoved out of the frame by two laughing women all sharing resemblance of each other as they began using the camera as a mirror to apply lipstick or lip gloss. The camera zoomed in on the round and square tubes of the products, displaying the white lettering printed across it.

Another model popped up on screen doing a twirl before the camera focused in on the eye makeup painted on his face. Just as the music was slowly beginning to fade out, the camera positioned itself into an overhead shot, showing the set in its entirety. On both sides, models were crowding in front of mirrors inside a beauty bar. The woman from the beginning of the video confidently strode down the middle of the space, the camera slowly panning down to bring it down to eye level.

"Ace Beauty. Keeping your game face effortlessly chic and always classic," she recited smoothly, a charming smile on her face as she signed her name on the lens with lipstick.

Gianna stared at herself in the video, the end of her Apple Pencil pressed against her lips. Her own makeup line, Gianna could hardly believe that's a sentence she could say. It made sense to pursue the business endeavor though, her makeup looks off the court were always being discussed by her fans. Her Instagram comments were constantly flooded with questions: what techniques does she use, how did she achieve a certain look, what products is she wearing, etc. The makeup line scheduled to drop the same day as the start of the US Open Tournament, this of course was by design; what better way to promote your new brand than doing it on the same day when millions of eyes are already on her.

"You actually came,"

The sound of his voice made a grin tug on Gianna's lips.

"Well why wouldn't I, Patrick?" she questioned, placing the stylus down onto the bar. "I said I would I come, and here I am," she said, turning to look at the dark haired man with a laugh.

Gianna slid down from the stool and onto the floor, holding her arms open invitingly for an embrace. Though they were a few feet apart, she couldn't help but notice that Patrick was a little worse for wear. Like he was constantly at war with life itself and lost many battles in the process, but somehow was still here. Gratefully, Patrick accepted the hug, but Gianna was unprepared for how tightly he held onto her. He was like a child holding their favorite stuffed animal, it couldn't have been clearer to Gianna that Patrick was in need of comfort. In need of a friend.

"Okay, okay, Patrick, it's great to see you too buddy," Gianna said, patting his back lightly a couple of times. But you are squeezing the life out of me," she wheezed, and Patrick immediately released her.

He pulled back, running his hands down her arms while letting his eyes roam over her freely.

"You look damn good Gianna," Patrick complimented, shaking his head and laughing.

She shrugged her shoulders, "Hmm, I know," she agreed, twirling around in her ivory Ralph Lauren sleeveless jumpsuit. "You don't look so bad yourself, Patrick," she complimented back.

Those gray eyes, worn and tired, but still the same eyes that lit up whenever he had seen her. Still the same boy underneath it all.

"Come, sit with me," Gianna encouraged, walking back to her corner stool.

Taking a seat next to her, Patrick propped his arm up against the counter and leaned his head against his fist.

"How's your dad?" he wondered curiously, smirking a little.

A breathy chuckle escaped her, "It is very brave, kind really, of you to ask about the well being of my dad," Gianna commented, something which Patrick laughed at. "He's fine all things considered, misses coaching me, but with his heart attack it's best he focuses on his tennis academy. Less stressful," she answered, unlocking her IPad.

"And what does father dearest think about you coming to a challenger tournament to see me?"

Another laugh left Gianna, this one harder than the previous one, "You do not want to know," she warned, dragging her finger across the screen to start her makeup ad from the beginning.

"Come on, what did the old man say? You piqued my curiosity now," he said, wearing a challenging smirk.

Gianna's eyebrows shot up, her head tilting to the side to wordlessly convey the question of, "You sure about that?" It only made Patrick's smirk deepen.

"Alright, you asked for it, but don't say I didn't warn you," she began, lifting her hands up. "My dad said it was beneath me to even be anywhere in your proximity," Gianna answered bluntly.

"You know, I gotta admire the old man for his never wavering in his hatred of me," Patrick joked. "At least you still came and didn't listen to him like you would've before,"

"Yeah, I did take some words of wisdom from you the day we broke up," she admitted, looking over to him. "You were right, you know? I always allowed my dad's words to sway me much too easily," she remarked. "Though, you are wrong about one thing. My dad doesn't hate you. Initially, he did," she informed, watching Patrick's eyebrows rise. "No, what he hates is watching you squander the potential you had as a tennis star," she corrected, shrugging her shoulders.

"Ouch," Patrick said, pressing his hand over his chest in fake pain.

Gianna thought she saw a brief flash of hurt in his eyes, but in an instant, it was gone and she was forced to think she had imagined it.

"Listen, not saying this tournament won't work out for you, but if doesn't, I have a proposal that my dad is probably going to kill me for," she said, resting her arms on the counter.

"And that is?"

"I'll get you a position at the Maurice Langdon Academy as an instructor," Gianna offered.

Patrick's head jerked up from his hand, "You serious, Gia?" he asked, a glimmer of gratefulness shining in his eyes.

"Serve normally, and I can almost guarantee you that my dad will take you on," she assured, pointing her finger at him.

"This isn't charity, right?" Patrick asked, a flash of skepticism appearing on his face. "My dad, who's a big fan of yours and a donor to your dad's academy, didn't put you up to this?" he questioned.

"Patrick, the only person who put me up to this was me," she answered. "Plus, it's like what you told me over the phone, you have one good season left in you. Who's to say after this challenger you don't go on to achieve your dream," she suggested, shrugging slightly. "This is a job offer, Patrick, one that is waiting for you no matter which way the wind blows," she said simply, smiling at him.

Before Gianna knew it, she became the receiver of a very tight bear hug that seemed to last for an eternity. Patrick shook with laughter, the sound reverberating against her as Gianna found herself smiling at his reaction just before he pulled away from her.

"This is the kindest fucking thing someone has done for me in a longtime," he informed, his voice slightly muffled against her shoulder. He pulled back. "Tennis superstar, Olympian, philanthropist, fashionista, friend," Patrick listed, shaking his head as another laugh escaped him. "Is there nothing Gianna Langdon can't do?" he wondered.

She chuckled, "I'm still working on that last part," Gianna said, shaking her head. "I haven't been the greatest at it in the past," she admitted, her eyes lowering.

Patrick grabbed a hold of her hands, "But you're here now, Gianna," he pointed out, bending his head so he could meet her stare. "I called your number with little hope that you would pick up, but you did," he reminded softly, running the calloused pads of his fingers across the back of her hands. "Hell, I thought the moment I dialed your number it would go straight to voicemail," he confessed, with a small smile before the two shared laughter.

Gianna glanced up, "It means a lot to me that I was the first person you thought to call for support," she confessed.

"Couldn't think of a better woman to be in my corner," Patrick reasoned, letting a lopsided grin grow on his face.

Just like that, old butterflies that Gianna believed had gone dormant awakened inside her stomach, fluttering and flickering about wildly. Giggling, she slowly pulled her hands from Patrick's and ran one of them through her freshly silk pressed, honey brown hair.

"Control it," she thought.

She cleared her throat, "You forgot to add one more feather to my cap," she commented, deliberately changing the subject.

"And what's that?"

"Entrepreneur," she beamed proudly. "Patrick Zweig, you are looking at a future beauty mogul," she proclaimed.

"You know once upon a time, the woman in front of me was worried no one was going to take a chance on her, glad to see those worries were unfounded," he recalled, mirroring her expression.

"I am too," she agreed. "Want a sneak peek of the fruit of my labors?" she offered.

Answering with a grin and nod, Gianna unlocked her IPad and tapped play on the screen. Just as Patrick began to watch her commercial, Gianna let her eyes wander into the hotel foyer until they landed on a pair of strikingly blue ones. Her breath hitched uncomfortably in her throat, while her heart nearly stopped in her chest. For a fleeting moment, time suspended itself and it was as if they existed in a universe all of their own. Nothing was there, nothing except for those bright blue eyes, boring into her own. Gianna could hardly believe, stomach, who the set of eyes staring back at her belonged to, for it was none other than Arthur Donaldson.

The hairs on the back of her neck stood on end as blood thudded audibly in her ears from the erratic rhythm of her heart beating. Gianna swore the thumping of heart would drown out the sound from the video and be heard by Patrick. They stare at each other, nearly a decade of unspoken words flowing between them without either of them ever opening their mouths. In truth, the silence was far louder than anything they could have said. Confused shock painted itself all over Art's features, an expression mirrored on her own.

Instantly, Gianna's mind was flooded with memories with the force of a tsunami. The two of them goofing off in her dorm room when they were supposed to be studying for class. Her birthday dinner date, that was not a date. His touching gift to her on her birthday which led to a moment of weakness that set off a terrible domino effect. Gianna remembered everything. The catalyst event which decimated a friend group within a single day, tore best friends apart, and formed a rift which Gianna believed would never mend. She couldn’t forget their history, it defined who they were now.

"Were those your sisters in the commercial?"

Patrick's voice was faint and faraway, everything for Gianna was muffled and distorted, like voices being heard underneath water. The impact of a hand on her knee ripped Gianna out of her trance. Blinking a few times, Patrick's face came back into her focus.

"I-I'm sorry what did you ask?" Gianna questioned, pointedly ignoring Art's eyes being trained on her and burning holes into her face.

"Was that Alicia and Farrah I saw in the commercial?"

"Yeah—Yes, they were," Gianna confirmed distractedly, pinching the bridge of her nose.

"You alright Gia? You've been looking over my shoulder for a solid minute now," Patrick remarked, raising a brow. "Is there someone you know here?" he questioned curiously, beginning to turn around.

Gianna had never moved quicker in her life, her hand darting out to grasp his chin with two fingers and redirecting his attention back to her. The world's awkwardest ex-friend's reunion was not going to happen on her watch.

"No one worth mentioning or addressing," Gianna assured, an easy smile on her lips. Releasing his chin, she lightly hit her palm against the counter. "Let’s have a drink, yeah?" she suggested, getting the bartender's attention.

"To celebrate you or me?"

"You, silly," she answered, before motioning to her drink for a refill and ordering for Patrick. She still knew his drink of choice despite the passage of time. "And a little bit of me as well," she admitted playfully, moving her head side to side. "I'm serious though, Patrick. I know how much this tournament means to you and how much you have riding on it. I am proud of what you accomplished, truly," she praised, her eyes twinkling in delight.

"Receiving high praise from Gianna Langdon," Patrick began, as their drinks were slid across the counter in front of them. "I'll be damn near unstoppable on the court now," he joked, grabbing his glass.

Gianna grabbed her own drink, "To future successes," she wished, raising her glass.

"To future successes," Patrick echoed, the rim of his glass softly clinking against hers. They both take a sip of their drinks and Patrick grinned against his glass as if he just remembered something. Lowering the cup from his lips, he placed it on top of the counter. "I forgot to wish you a happy belated," he mentioned.

"Birthday?" Gianna asked, bringing her glass down from her mouth. "That was way back in early spring, but thanks regardless," she said, with a laugh.

"No, silly," Patrick said, with a grin. "Happy belated Pride! Congrats on coming out as bisexual!" he cheered.

"Oh fuck off!" Gianna said, laughing heartily and hitting his arm.

"What? It was very brave of you to do so," he complimented, laughing himself.

With a playful roll of her eyes, Gianna shook her head.

"Bravery had nothing to do with it," she corrected. "I mean, it's what I am. I discussed coming out to the public with my dad, and he said no better time to do it than in the month where it celebrates folks like me," Gianna recalled, shrugging and lifting her glass to her lips. "I'm already a beloved athlete, it was only going to be a net positive for me," she reasoned, leaning back against the backrest of the barstool.

"Always about the optics with you, Gia," Patrick said, his tone biting.

Gianna lifted her drink to her lips, "I am my father's daughter," she said dryly. "For better or for worse," she added quietly, knocking back the rest of her drink.

~~~x~~~

13 YEARS EARLIER - STANFORD UNIVERSITY, 2006

Move-in day was hot. Scratch that, it was scorching outside underneath the California sun. The blistering heat made the task of transporting Gianna's belongings to her dorm room a miserable one. The thought of forgoing her clothes all together floated about in Gianna's head if it meant some relief from the heat. Though, she knew her mom and dad would be none too pleased at the gesture, especially since the two helpers in their amidst was Art and Patrick.

Being the ever helpful boyfriend, Patrick lent his hand in assisting both Gianna and Tashi move into their dorm rooms. Despite his helping hand, Gianna's dad was still none too impressed by Patrick.

"I don't like it, he's too arrogant for my liking," the salt-and-pepper haired man groused, shaking his head, clearly displeased by Gianna's taste in a boyfriend.

Mrs. Langdon snorted softly from her seat within the trunk of their truck.

For as long as Gianna could remember, her mother had always exuded an air of sophistication and chic that she hoped she could match one day. Of course, when her mother being a former American Ballet Theatre ballerina, it came with the territory. People always told her she had mother's soft face or most commonly said she, “stole her whole face from her momma”. To Gianna, her mother was absolutely stunning, like straight out off the front cover of Ebony magazine. More importantly, her mom was the yin to her dad’s yang, her gentleness balanced his sternest.

"What? He's just a younger version of you Maurice, but," she paused, tapping a finger to the palm side of her hand and smiling at her husband.

"Well, unlike him, I didn't have wandering eyes," he retorted, taking off his horn rimmed glasses, to wipe away the fog from his lenses. "Gia, darling, are you sure that Patrick is dating you for you, or because of your access to Tashi?" Mr. Langdon questioned sincerely, his brow arching.

"Ohh, this is awkward," Gianna thought.

Telling her mom and dad she and Tashi were both dating Patrick, she would simply have to be waterboarded for them to get that information out of her.

"Patrick is dating me for me," Gianna reassured, nodding her head while wiping at the thin line of sweat trickling down her forehead.

"Your dad is worried about Patrick, while my concern is with your friend, Arthur," Mrs. Langdon stated, shifting her body to face Gianna fully.

"Art?" Gianna repeated, disbelief all over her face. "What, come on? Art is probably the nicest, sweetest guy I've ever met," she defended, an incredulous laugh belting from her.

"Honey, those are the ones you have to be the most careful of," Mrs. Langdon warned, placing her hand on Gianna's knee. "Boys like Art, are able to get away with much because people believe the same way as you do," she explained. "I've seen the way he looks at you, how he looks when you and Patrick get affectionate with each other," she noted, staring pointedly at Gianna. "I say this as your mother, as a woman, be careful around Art. I fear he's the type to throw stones and then hide his hands, if it means getting what he wants," she advised.

Gianna rolled her eyes, "Mom, that's ridiculous," she protested.

"Gia!"

"Speak of the devil," she thought.

Standing at the doorway of her dorm building was Art with his trademark backwards Stanford hat and a grin that stretched from ear to ear.

"I guess that's our sign to hit the road again," Mrs. Langdon noted, with an exhale. "Your dad and I still have to go to UCLA to visit Farrah and make sure she's all squared away for her sophomore year," she reminded, pushing herself up from the trunk bed and reaching her hands out for Gianna.

"Call me the moment you make it to campus," Gianna ordered, taking her mom's hands to jump down onto the ground.

"Yes, ma'am," Mrs. Langdon answered, nodding her head and chuckling. She ran her hands up and down Gianna's arms, giving her a once over. "Can't believe I'm dropping off my baby girl to college!" she exclaimed, bringing her in for a tight hug. "One step closer to being a big name tennis superstar!" she cheered, as Gianna returned her hug. "I'm so proud of you!" she stated, pulling back from her.

Gianna beamed at her mother's words as the older woman pressed a kiss atop of her head.

"Your mom offered you some words of wisdom, now it's my turn," Mr. Langdon said, gathering Gianna in his arms for another tight embrace and swaying them side to side. Pulling away, he gave her biceps a squeeze as his demeanor became a little more serious. "Don't let her run you," he instructed vaguely.

Gianna frowned, "What?" she questioned, her head tilting.

"Do not let Tashi Duncan run you," he repeated slowly. "You've allowed her to get away with it for too long, but starting today, that shit dies," he said sternly.

"Tashi does not run me, Dad," Gianna disagreed, scoffing quietly. "I think we both witnessed that at Juniors this year," she pointed out.

"You seem to have a great handle on that, tennis wise," Mr. Langdon began, pressing his palms together. "But for life in general, you're lacking severely," he retorted. "Let this be the last day I ever hear you say the words, 'Tashi says', 'Tashi wants', or 'Tashi believes', alright?" he questioned, staring over the rim of his glasses. "I'm trying to make you a superstar, not a sidekick to another superstar. It's time you shed that image once and for all, and to do that, you must start thinking for yourself. Making a name for yourself. Got it?" he asked, both his brows raising.

"Yes, sir," Gianna answered tightly.

Mr. Langdon nodded approvingly, "Atta girl," he replied, before bringing her in for a second hug. "Have fun in college, but not too much fun," he murmured, against her head. "Kick ass and take names, we have a dream to fulfill," he said, with a pat against her back.

"Yours or mine?" Gianna thought bitterly.

Her dad released his hold on her, moving to shut the trunk door close. Gianna watched her parents get into the truck, the doors slamming close in unison.

"Gia, just please consider what I said earlier, for me," Mrs. Langdon said, looking back at her from the passenger seat.

"Yeah, I will, I will," she answered, brushing off her mom's concerns.

With one final wave, her parents pulled off from the parking lot and Gianna felt like a weight had been lifted from her chest. She was finally free. For the first time in her life, Gianna would be able to navigate life where tennis and her dad were not wholly the center of her universe. She now had the chance to do something she always dreamed of doing, just being a normal 18 year-old. Exploring old hobbies and new, hanging out with friends, going to parties, it was all there for the taking now that her dad could no longer constantly breathe down her neck. Smiling to herself, Gianna turned around and jogged to the entrance of her dorm building where Art patiently waited for her.

"Everything good?" Art wondered, as she climbed the last step up.

"Never been better!" Gianna answered, a delighted smile on her face.

Walking past him, she nimbly snatched Art's hat from his head and ran into the building.

"Hey!" he cried playfully.

Gianna sprinted up the staircase to her floor, giggling every step of the way as Art was hot on her trail and laughing along with her. Just as she approached the doorway to her room, she suddenly felt herself being lifted off her feet and spun around, briefly feeling weightless.

"Your girlfriend is a thief!" Art informed breathlessly, with a laugh as he put Gianna back down on her feet.

Another series of giggles left Gianna as they entered her room, "Do not listen to such slanderous lies! I'm innocent!" she proclaimed, placing Art's hat on her head.

Making a beeline to her bed, she plopped down on it next to Patrick who was casually stretched out across the mattress. In an instant, his arm naturally wrapped itself around Gianna's waist while he shifted himself into a sitting position.

"Look at this face Art," Patrick began, using his free hand to take her chin in between his fingers and playfully squeeze her cheeks. "Does this look like the face of a thief?” he questioned. Gianna shook her head in his grasp, her eyes warm with mirth. "Exactly Gianna, that's what I think as well," he agreed, before swooping down to attack the side of her face with kisses.

"Patrick!" Gianna shrieked in laughter, writhing in arms.

Tashi started making fake gagging sounds and Gianna eyes flickered over to hers.

"Don’t be like that Tash," she said, a fake pout on her lips. "There's plenty of love to go around," she reminded, outstretching her hand towards her girlfriend.

"You sure about that?" Tashi asked, her face contorting in a look of faux outrage. "Because it seems like Patrick is hogging you all to himself,"

Gianna only snickered in response, her eyes rolling before meeting Art's stare. It made her smile falter when she did. There was the faintest twitch of a muscle in his jaw, a scowl threatening to cloud his features. His eyes hardened at the edges to the point they resembled ice. And she was the only one noticing the drastic shift in Art's cheery demeanor, it sent shivers down her spine. Vaguely, Gianna felt Patrick's lips peppering kisses up and down her neck while talking to Tashi in between each one. Without taking her eyes off Art, she reached behind her and lightly tapped the side of Patrick's face.

Gianna cleared her suddenly dry throat, "Alright, alright, easy there lover boy," she joked, tearing her eyes from Art's face for a quick glance to his throat where his Adam's apple bobbed in agitation.

Patrick chuckled against her skin and pulled away from her, resting his back against the wall while bringing her down with him.

"So uh, what do you guys wanna do now?" Art wondered, his usual bright attitude returning without missing beat. "The day is still young," he added, lowering himself down to have a seat onto the plush rug covering the floor.

"Hmmm," Gianna hummed in contemplation, adjusting Art's hat to fit snug on the top of her head.

It was an action that left Art's gaze lingering on her. Gianna wished he would quit staring at her like he was a man dying of thirst, ready to drink her up and gulp down like a glass of water when placed in front of him. And it was not because she found it creepy, it was the fact that it was stirring up physical and emotional responses she should not be having when her boyfriend and girlfriend are literally in the room with her.

"I think—" Gianna began.

"We should go hit around on the courts," Tashi suggested, swiveling back and forth in the desk chair. "Can't think of a better group to do it with," she reasoned, her lips curling upwards.

"What? Oh come on, no!" Gianna complained, raising up from Patrick's chest. "We're all gonna have plenty of opportunities to hit a tennis ball around the court," she said in exasperation. "We're in college guys—well most of us are in college," she corrected, earning her a squeeze to her side from Patrick. "Let's be normal college kids and have some fun for once and enjoy our freedom," she suggested.

"What did you have in mind Gia?” Patrick asked, his fingers softly trailing up and down her waist.

"There's a mini golf course not too far from campus. I saw it on the way here with my parents," she answered, looking around at everyone.

"That does sound fun to do," Art grinned, nodding his head in agreement.

"Gia, you know complacency breeds mediocrity," Tashi warned.

"God, does she sound like dad!" she thought.

Gianna spoke before she could stop herself, "Yes, and, being hyper focused on one, single thing makes a person super fucking boring too," Gianna shot back.

The swiveling of the chair came to an abrupt halt. Gianna could almost physically feel all the air sucked out of the room. Nobody moved and Gianna found herself engaged in a staring match with Tashi in a battle of wills.

"Are you calling me boring?" Tashi challenged, her eyes narrowing.

Art breathed out a nervous chuckle, "Tashi, I don't—" he started.

"No, no, let Gianna answer," Tashi interrupted, holding her hand up in his direction without looking.

"Yes," Gianna thought.

"I didn't say you," Gianna pointed out. "It was a generalized statement," she continued.

"Is that so?" Tashi asked, doubt coloring her tone.

"Yeah, it is," Gianna answered, arching her brow in challenge.

"Come on Tash," Patrick called, sitting up from his spot against the wall. "It's not a bad idea, all of us are going to have our hands full for the next couple of months," he said, his eyes dancing between the two girls.

"We can make it a going away party for Patrick before he's off to the pros," Art chirped in.

"Yes, exactly Art!" Patrick agreed. "And what better way to be sent off than having my two, beautiful girlfriends by my side,”

Gianna stole a quick glance at Art after hearing Patrick's words and she swore she saw his forehead vein pulse with unusual intensity.

"Okay, fine," Tashi huffed, and Gianna's eyes flitted from Art back to her.

Gianna softly pushed Patrick's arm from her waist and stood up to sit on Tashi's lap.

"It'll be fun, Tash!" Gianna promised, looping her arms around Tashi's neck. "You'll see," she encouraged, pecking her forehead.

"Yeah, yeah," Tashi groused.

~~~x~~~

With pursed lips, Gianna drew her arms backwards then forwards to make sure that the little, white ball was aligned with her club before gently swinging at it. The precise hit sent the ball rolling down the green in a perfectly straight line, right into the hole.

"Nice shot Gia!" Art cheered, sticking his hand out for a hi-five.

"I try," she smirked, slapping her hand against his. "Your turn, partner," she said, motioning him to take his position.

It was Gianna's idea to split the group into teams, that way both Gianna and Tashi could both somewhat get what they wanted, a fun but fierce competition. Art set his ball onto the green, getting into his stance and took aim.

"So, are we gonna talk about it?" he asked, the club solidly hitting the ball in the center.

Gianna frowned, "Talk about what?" she asked back, watching his ball stop just short of the hole.

Art turned around, an incredulous look crossing his face at her question.

"What happened in your hotel room," Art supplied as if it was the most obvious answer, before moving closer to his ball.

"Oh, that..." Gianna trailed off, following behind him. "What about it? What is there to talk about?" she questioned dismissively, twirling her club in her hand.

Just as the questions left her lips, Art tapped his ball into the hole with ease.

"That what happened between us is constantly replaying in my head 24/7," he explained, turning around again. "And it's torturous," he went on, his eyes desperate.

Gianna only blinked in response, genuinely perplexed on what Art wanted her to do or say about that.

"Well get it to stop," Gianna suggested lamely, lazily tossing one arm up. "I don't know what you want me to tell you," she added, with a shake of her head.

"Get it to stop?" he repeated, in disbelief while taking a step closer to her. "Gia, you gave me a handjob!" he exclaimed lowly, so only she could hear. "You can't do that to a guy and expect him to just forget it!" he insisted.

"What I did could hardly qualify as a handjob, Art," Gianna argued, her voice matching his. "It was one pump at max," she pointed out.

Gianna knew this was childish, to be arguing the technicalities of what is a handjob, but she needed to quash what she thought Art was poking at. They didn't need to talk about that ever again, it was… it was a good time, it basically meant nothing. All she had to do was bury her budding feelings deep down, and make an active effort to never acknowledge them again.

"Why did even tell me this, knowing I'm dating your best friend?" Gianna questioned, anger rising in her voice.

"Because despite that, I think you like me too," he countered, his frustration growing more palpable by the second.

"Look Art, we had some fun in my hotel room. You, me, and Patrick, we all did," she deflected, shaking her head again. "Fun," she emphasized.

"Fun? That's all that was?"

God, did she feel like a bitch, watching Art's face crumple made her almost reconsider everything, but she was in too deep now to back out now.

"In that instance, yes," Gianna answered bluntly, watching how that verbal blow knocked the wind out of him. "I'm sorry, did you think it was more?" she asked coldly.

With each word she uttered, it visibly pained Art and the lines in his forehead grew deeper and deeper. He looked like a kicked puppy, and god did she hate when he looked like that. Silence fell between them, the most uncomfortable silence of Gianna's life.

"Fuck! This was supposed to be a fun night!" she groaned, before turning away from Art and walking away from the hole they were at.

"You never denied it," Art remarked, his words were spoken softly, barely a whisper, but to Gianna they were deafening. So much so, that she abruptly froze mid step, her shoulders visibly stiffening. "That you had feelings for me," he finished quietly.

Gianna was like a deer in headlights. She had hoped the harshness of her words would cause Art to fail to notice what she didn't say. He was far more attentive than she realized. Swallowing uncomfortably, Gianna all but sprinted to where Tashi was, not daring to look back.

"Hey Tash," Gianna greeted, forcing a smile on her face as she approached her. "How's your game going? Where did Patrick go?" she questioned, praying she wasn't noticeably acting strange.

Tashi didn't bother looking up at her, "Oh, you know," she began, her voice monotone. "It goes," she answered, barely making an effort to hit the golf ball into the hole. It pitifully only moved a few feet from them. "Patrick, on the other hand went to buy food for us," she answered flatly.

Gianna felt her grip tighten around her club, "You know could at least make an attempt to actually try and have fun," she commented.

Tashi's head whipped up, a frown already etched on her face.

"I didn't want to come here in the first place, and you know that," Tashi stated, carelessly letting the golf club fall from her hand. "Fun, fun, fun. That's all you seem to care about now!" she snapped, folding her arms against her chest.

Gianna rolled her eyes, "Excuse me for daring to indulge in my newfound freedom from being under my dad's thumb for the first time in years," she responded sarcastically.

"I'm sure he'll be just thrilled to learn the placeholder for his own lost dreams immediately took her eyes off the prize the second he left her alone," Tashi said, a derisive chuckle leaving her.

"Fuck you! That's a low fucking blow even for you Tashi!" Gianna hissed, stabbing her finger in the air toward her best friend. "I pray you never find yourself in the same position which I've been put through," she wished.

Once upon a time, much like Gianna, her father was a talented tennis prodigy who was on the cusp of a promising career in the pros. However, just as his career started, it was snatched away within a blink of the eye with death of his father, forcing him to return home to take over the family horse ranch. And Gianna has had to suffer for circumstances beyond hers or her father's control ever since.

"You don't know what it's like, to have your own dad be your coach as well," Gianna went on, her fist balling up. "And being forced to reckon that you begin to see him as less of a father and only as a coach," she added, faintly feeling her nails digging into her palm.

"Poor fucking me, I'm Gianna Langdon who's had a silver spoon in my mouth since I could walk," Tashi mocked. "My life is so difficult because I have to play a sport I'm wonderful at and my dad has went above and beyond to make sure I excel at my craft, like having a fucking personal tennis court built in my backyard!"

"And you think that's a blessing?" Gianna asked, the pitch in her voice rising. "It was a curse! My own personal gilded cage, a constant reminder that I've never really had any say at all to explore life outside of tennis," she exclaimed, dropping her own club now.

"You like baking,"

"Ooh one whole hobby," Gianna deadpanned, raising her hands and shaking them. "You know what you're supposed to do at college besides learn?" She questioned. "Party and find yourself,” she listed, ticking them off with her fingers.

"You're at Stanford to play tennis on a full ride scholarship," Tashi reminded firmly.

"Well it's a good fucking thing I can multitask," Gianna retorted. "Come on Tashi, think about it. Outside tennis, what else do you and I do in our spare time? Talk about boys?" she said exasperatedly.

"Yes, and its worked for us this entire time. Why change now?" Tashi replied, a soft frown creasing her forehead.

"Because we were friends then, but now we're girlfriends—"

Tashi scoffed, "Girlfriends? You haven't even publicly came out and stated that we're dating," she pointed out.

Gianna could only bite her tongue, because Tashi was right, she hadn't. Although, she had her reasons, they were wholly self-serving, but there was logic behind them.

"I know you haven't told your mom," Tashi began. "And I know damn well you haven't said anything to your dad," she stressed. "So, what is it? Are you afraid of ruining your ‘golden child’ title if your parents find out you're queer?" she taunted.

"You think my parents care if I'm gay?" Gianna asked incredulously. "They've known Farrah is a lesbian for nearly two years now," she informed.

"She plays women's soccer, I'm positive your parents weren't surprised about that revelation," Tashi said dismissively. "The closet was made of fucking glass," she quipped.

If Gianna wasn't so frustrated and infuriated with Tashi, she would've laugh at Tashi's remark.

"Alright, fuck it, you want to know why I don't to want go public? Why I refuse to?"

"I'm waiting with bated breath," Tashi answered sarcastically.

"It's because I have a goddamn name and image to uphold," Gianna said frankly. "We both do," she added, her tone softening.

"Oh my god!" Tashi complained. "It's always about image with you, with your dad!" she snapped.

"I'm being pragmatic here and you know it, you're just being too stubborn to realize I'm right," Gianna claimed, crossing her arms.

"Billie Jean King, a tennis legend is an open lesbian,"

"Yeah, and did you skip over the part where she was forcibly outed, shunned, and lost all her endorsements soon after?" she shot back. "Do you want that fate for the both us when either of us have barely even made a start in our careers?" Gianna questioned, no trace of anger in her voice only sincerity.

Tashi never got the chance to respond as an arm snaked its way around Gianna's waist.

"Now, what are you doing around in these parts?" Patrick asked humorously. "Is Art doing that bad you had to switch sides?" he guessed.

Gianna looked over at him, "I came to see how you two losers were doing," she lied, grinning at him.

Her eyes found Tashi's once more, their argument from moments before still raging silently between in stares, and all the while Patrick is none the wiser. He didn't notice the obvious growing tension between his two girlfriends, between two best friends.

Part IV: Cocky Af

[the-californicationist]

Hi hi! Love your blog! For the Gift of GIF ask game:

Thank you so much for the GIF ask!! So glad y'all like this ask game. Sorry about the delay. Hope this is something you like!

TW: DaddyDom language, female genitals, sex toys, safe and explicit consent, come play

Shore Leave

Your husband, Alex Keller, finally makes good use of his time off and takes you on your dream vacation. Little do you know that he has darker motives…

The view from your poolside suite was breathtaking in all of the best ways. An endlessly-reflected infinity pool bled right into the deep cerulean Pacific Ocean, making it seem like you could swim forever and ever and never stop. The sky was a mirror of the water, cloudless and pure. Although the sun was out, you were comfortable, and the breeze made you feel like you were always in a limbo between being awake and trapped within a lucid dream. 

Even more enthralling was the way your husband’s body felt beneath yours. He was shirtless, clad only in a light pair of linen pants, and his warm body was curled around you protectively like a covetous hound. You’d never felt so safe. 

However, you were also made to feel other things as well. 

It had all started very innocently. He’d woken you up with poached eggs and freshly squeezed juice, running a warm bath and rubbing you down with lotion and oil before you stepped outside. Then, he’d gifted you with a brand new thong bikini, his eyes hungry as you tried it on. You thought you’d be following him down to the beach, eager to splash in the waves and show off your new fit, but he pulled you onto the pool deck instead. 

He’d kissed you softly, teasingly. It was so different than his usual rabid fervor. You loved the way your husband could barely keep your clothes on when you were alone. You’d missed your dinner reservations more than once. But, you reasoned with yourself, he was always on deployment. Of course he was a little excited. 

Now, though, that excitement had given way to mischief. As you had sat by the pool, kissing and holding hands, innocently watching the ships float by, you’d been lulled into a false sense of security. 

And so, here you lay, your pussy stuffed with an automated vibrator, your poor unused asshole filled with an enormous plug, whimpering and begging for relief. Every time you would get close, writhing your body against his, trying to entice him with your hands and your long, smooth legs, he ignored you. He could control the vibe from his phone, and you never knew which way he was going to go. Sometimes, he would switch it off, watching you desperately humping his leg like a feral dog, swollen and perched on the edge of an orgasm. 

His dark chuckle made your blood run cold,

“Does my good girl need something?”

Alex peered down into your face, his eyes hidden behind his sunglasses, smug and thoroughly enjoying himself. 

“Oops,” he adjusted your thong again, jiggling the plug as he did so, “Keep these nice and high for me, baby. Need to be able to admire this plump ass of yours. Mmm. What a view.” 

A hard, aching squeeze of his huge hand on your ass cheek made you see white, the sensation of all of his toys inside of you making even the smallest affection feel like wildfire. 

“Please, Daddy, I’ll be a good girl. Please, may I come… please?” You tried to beg. You’d tried before. Nothing was helping. You could feel the slip and slide of your slick between the meat of your inner thighs. 

“Not yet. Trust me, honey. I know what’s best for you, don’t I?”

You didn’t say a word, but you watched wide-eyed as he pulled another velveteen drawstring bag from his case. When he opened up the box, you could tell he’d already inspected and cleaned it. All of its wrapping was gone, and the straps were already in place. 

It was a familiar piece. He’d used gags with you before, and nothing brought you more pleasure than allowing his hands and mouth and cock to bring you to your peak over and over again while you mindlessly allowed your shining drool to melt down your neck and onto your tits. When he removed it and allowed you to swallow him, replacing the silicone ball with his warm, softening cock, already emptied of its seed — you’d never come so hard in your life. 

But this was no ball. This was a fat, silicone cock gag. 

“Daddy, please. I’ll be quiet. I promise. Please… No, I’m —” 

“Hey, show me your left hand,” he became very serious. 

In your hand, you held a loud alarm button, your finger over the trigger, ready to press it at any time. When he saw it, checking in with you that you were still in your safe zone, he smiled.

“That’s perfect, baby. Such a good little slut for me. How did I get so lucky?” He kissed your cheek, shining with old and new tears, streaking down your face from overstimulation, and he planted chaste kisses on your quivering lip. You let yourself lean towards his affection, seeking more of his comfort, only to be firmly held back in place with his hand as he wrapped around your cheek.

“Shh, shh. Daddy just wants you to feel so good, baby. Now, open up.”

You stared at him with huge, gleaming doe eyes, tears threatening to run out of the corners of them again. 

When you didn’t immediately comply, he grabbed the nape of your scalp and yanked your head back, not hurting you, but getting your attention. 

“Am I gonna have to bruise that fine fuckin’ ass, huh? Make you walk down the fuckin’ beach with my palm prints all over you?”

“No, Daddy. I’ll be good. I’ll be good,” you gasped when the vibrator started up again as he flipped a switch. The shock made you clench down around it, which jostled the heavy plug, all in a series of mind-numbing chain reactions designed to edge you within an inch of your sanity. 

“I know you will be. Now… open… that… mouth.”

Alex pressed the tip of the gag to your lips and you opened up for him, sucking it into your lips just like his cock. He pushed it all the way in and it almost landed in the back of your throat. Any further and you wouldn’t be able to breathe. It was a perfect fit. 

Then, slowly, almost painfully so, he pulled it back out, staring into your eyes and seeing what you needed. 

“Go on, baby. I know you wanna suck it for me. Show me.”

You wrapped your lips around it again, and as he held it in place, you bobbed your head up and down, your tongue lapping at the head of his toy. You made sure to look straight into his eyes as you used your mouth on it, letting your spit coat the silicone and drip onto his fist. 

He removed his hand from your head and pet your hair gently, smoothing it away from your face.

“My poor, hungry little whore. Let’s fill you up, hm?”

Your protests became warped into a garbled whine as Alex pressed the toy all the way into your mouth, making sure it was flush and, before you knew it, you were being latched into the gag. The cock you were sucking was now perched at the farthest edge of your tongue, the soft head pressing into your palate, threatening to choke you. 

Alex bent his neck to kiss your mouth as your lips stretched around the toy, smiling as he turned his attention back to his phone. He turned the vibrator down to a medium rumble and removed himself from your cuddling position to stand near the edge of the pool chair. 

“C’mere, baby. Lemme show you somethin’,” your adoring husband held out his hand and you struggled to stand with him, stumbling on shaking legs. 

He walked you over to the tall dividing wall between your suite and the popular beach, each step making the toys thrust up inside of you as you swayed your hips. Your weakness and the unevenness of the ground made your footing jerky and chaotic, adding to the creamy, lurid jostling happening inside of you. The pressure from the anal plug was so satisfying, and your vibrator teased your most sensitive spot, deep within you, just like a curling finger. Without your thong, you know your vibrator would have slipped out of you on your journey. You had never been so wet, and the way the toy was wriggling inside of your hole was making you dizzy. 

Finally, you made it to the wall and used it to support yourself, squeezing your thighs together, desperate for some relief. Alex pointed down to the beach, showing you the little umbrellas and towels full of soldiers on shore leave, all oblivious to your torture.

“Put your hands on the wall, spread your legs apart, and don’t move them until I tell you to. Hold up a two if you understand me.”

You held up a two with your hand and then placed both of your palms on the wall, gripping it for dear life, feeling the long thread of your tangled orgasm beginning to unravel. Alex nudged your legs even wider, changing the angle of the toys within your body. The vibe buzzed away deep within you, faithfully held in place by your tight thong. 

Then, you felt the familiar loosening of your bathing suit top as Alex yanked out the bow you had tied, letting the small fabric flutter away, revealing your breasts to the soft breeze. If any of the partying soldiers got too curious and decided to study you from below, they’d surely be able to see your dark nipples as they tightened on your tits, unbelievably sensitive in your current predicament. 

You whined, and Alex shushed you, 

“Shh, baby. I know. What if they see? That’s why you need to be nice and quiet for Daddy, hm? Wouldn’t want to attract any visitors, now would we? Now…” He grabbed your hips, his thumbs digging into the v-shaped strap of your thong, “Suck that cock for me while Daddy plays with his toys.”

You tried to focus on his instructions, but you couldn’t bear the anticipation. What was he about to do to you? You let your eyes wander back towards him, trying to prepare for whatever came next.

A rough hand came around to grab you by the jaw,

“What did I say? Show me how you swallow that dick, honey, or I’ll make you scream so they can all watch you do it.”

You nodded as best you could, trying to show him you could be a good girl for him, and you experimented a little, swallowing in an exaggerated rhythm, feeling the gag sliding back and forth through your mouth as your throat moved. It made you drool a bit, the spit pooling at the ring of your stretched lips, running down your chin. 

“That’s it,” Alex praised you, rubbing his clothed cock against your ass from behind, “That’s what I wanna hear. Keep sucking, just like that.”

So, you did. As you swallowed and suckled on the solid shape, it began to feel more and more like the real thing. The ridges of the head, the pronounced veins of the body; it was all contributing to the absolute mindrot you were already experiencing. You let the cock fuck your mouth, using the tension of your tongue to mimic the feeling, allowing your thoughts to dissipate in favor of the sparkling blissed your husband had promised you. 

Alex kept his crotch jammed against the cleft of your ass, forcing you to feel his hard shaft as it rolled against you, reaching around your body to softly pluck at your nipples. 

At the first touch of his fingertips, you gasped, sucking in air through your nose, nearly losing your footing. His hands mirrored each other, rubbing feather-light circles around your pebbled skin, petting your heavy breasts with the palms of his hands. He was fire and ice, at one point squeezing your flesh cruelly and pinching you hard enough to make you cry out through the muffle of the gag, and then sweet as could be, stroking and petting you like a scared bunny. 

You weren’t sure of the concept of time. It could have been only seconds that he played with you like this, or perhaps an hour had gone by. You just knew that your lover wanted to hear your hungry suckling sounds and to touch your swaying breasts. Nothing else mattered. Nothing else existed. 

Then, he pulled the other string at your back, letting your top fall to the ground. 

You missed his touch immediately, turning your head to look back at him, questioning his choices. It was the wrong move. You knew he would take care of you, but your fervor made you selfish and doubtful. 

You faced the ocean again, watching the soldiers as you swallowed against the dick in your mouth, ignoring the obvious lines of spit hanging from your mouth. Alex came around to the wall and perched himself against it. After watching you for a few moments, he took his hand and wiped your mouth, smearing your own spit all over your tits, wetting your nipples so that the cool air could tease them. 

Then, right in front of you, he unbuttoned his fly and took his cock from his pants. He began to stroke it in a languid, lazy pattern, slathering his precome over his immense head and down his shaft. Surprisingly, the cock gag made you hungrier for the real thing, and you eyed him like a prize. 

“I want to make sure you’re really enjoying this vacation, baby. I planned it all for you. Are you having fun?”

You nodded enthusiastically, knowing he was leading up to something threatening. You loved him like this. And he loved you when you were fully under his command. Under his care. All for him. His plaything. 

“I’m about to look and see how much fun you’re having…” He let his fat cock hang and walked around to your rear, “Are you ready for me to see the pretty little mess you made, darlin’?”

You nodded again, steeling yourself for what was coming. 

He placed his hand at the very middle of your thong and pulled up on it instead of down, cramming the toys inside of you deeper than they had been, making you writhe and whine, losing control of your legs, feeling them trembling, barely able to hold you up. 

He let go. You breathed as deeply as you could, feeling like the cock in your mouth was growing down your throat, wishing you could scream in earnest. 

Then, he rolled down your bottoms until your spread thighs stopped them, your ass and pussy now on full display.

He hummed with pleasure, and you heard his pants fall to the ground, rustling in the grass and pooling around your husband’s ankles. 

Suddenly, fingers began to tug at the plug in your ass, pulling it in an undulating pattern against your muscular ring, making you feel like you were being fucked by a thick cock. Then, he applied even pressure, and removed it, letting your hole clench around nothing for a moment before teasing you with the rounded tip. Alex let it fuck you shallowly for a while, pressing it forward only a few inches at a time, barely applying any pressure at all. Until he put it back in. He stretched you again, and you realized that since you’d become all too comfortable at the thin, flat base, and you hadn’t had a chance to get accustomed to the insane girth; it was as if you were starting from scratch. 

You rolled your hips, trying to ease the pressure, and he rolled the toy with you, playing with you like a lion plays with its food, batting you around, helpless to his power. 

The vibrator was flailing inside of your pussy at top speed, pulsing and rumbling loud enough for you to hear the mechanical whir. And every time he pushed the plug back inside of you, the tone of it would change. Your body was making music for him, and you couldn’t help it one bit. 

“Beautiful…” You could hear the smile on his lips. 

Everything stopped for a moment, but you thought you heard a soft slicking sound, the noise of him jacking off. Then, you felt his fleshy head push its way into your pussy, already filled by the deep vibe. 

You turned around, worried, unable to protest with the cock still deep in your mouth, pinning down your tongue. 

His sunglasses were off, and he was focused on your hole, using your sticky come to coat himself, thrusting shallowly inside of you right beside the vibrator. 

He wasn’t going to fit. You’d never felt so full before. You were already so primed, the audacious lewdness of it all sent you over the edge. You crashed into your orgasm like a runaway train, slamming full force into a wall of sensations. Your skin flushed hot all at once, like an instant fever, and you felt your holes clutch desperately onto anything they could find, squeezing and pulsing and swelling against him. 

You lost your strength to stand, but he held you, carrying your weight like it was nothing. And he kept pushing forward, easing his cock right beside the toy, holding it steady inside of you. 

“There she is. You’re doing so well for me, baby. Daddy’s perfect little hole.” 

Once he was fully sheathed within you, you both sighed raggedly, melting into the feeling like molten glass in a kiln. Below you, the soldiers laughed, running through the shallow water, having the time of their lives. 

Alex began to fuck you with very little heed for your well-being. You had your button, you could press it at any time, and out of all of his fun toy box prizes, you’d not once felt like anything had been beyond your abilities. But, now, as his cock made room for itself in your tight walls, you wondered if you could take it. 

You understood size queens, the girls who insisted on girthy, long phalluses and who refused to settle for less. You knew why they insisted, now. Your g-spot was lit up like a beacon. There was no waiting to feel his cockhead rub lightly against it. No, it was on and it stayed on because of the terrible girth of both the toy and his dick. You were coming not in waves, but in some sort of constant stream. There was no start and stop to your orgasms; you were given no let down on their end nor warning on their beginning. You were just kept in a hot, milky, perpetual state of bliss that made your eyes roll back into your head. 

The plug in your ass began to come out of you as you came. He was pulling against it, prying it from you until it popped free. You knew you were gaping open for him because when he explored the empty hole with his fingers, you could tell how pliant and soft your body was now that it had been so deeply filled. 

“My good girl. Taking everything her Daddy gives her today.”

Alex praised you, but you didn’t respond. Your mind was a blank slate. All you could do was tumble further down the winding path of your own pleasure. 

You felt him pull himself free from the grip of your pussy, gasping from the relief. He slipped the vibrator out of you, too, switching it off and discarding it somewhere. Then, you were empty. So empty that it felt like grief. And you cried out for his help as much as you could around the gag. 

“C’mere, honey. On your knees for Daddy.”

You fell to the ground limply, turning toward him for guidance, for any sort of reprieve. 

He looked down at you with so much love and admiration, bending to kiss your forehead and removing your gag. 

“So good. Such an obedient slut. I’m so proud of you, honey.”

“But, Daddy, you didn’t come, yet.” You pawed at his hips, rubbing his belly and reaching for his chest, stretching yourself to try and give yourself back to him.

“Today’s not about me, baby,” he smiled sweetly at you, but you weren’t having it. 

His cock was pink and flagging, practically dripping with precome, ready to burst. You reached for it, feeding it into your sore mouth, sucking it down like you’d been practicing on the gag. It was too big, but you pushed through it, swallowing and swallowing until you couldn’t breathe, hollowing out your cheeks to make your mouth into a warm wet sleeve for him. 

“Baby… oh, shit. Ungh! Holy hell.”

Without any further hesitation, he began to fuck your throat, shoving himself deeper and deeper, controlling your head and moving himself within you like a piston. You let yourself go limp again, allowing the pornographic slurping sounds of your rough-fucked mouth to be as loud and as messy as he wanted them to, abandoning your shame. You rubbed yourself with your hand, shoving your fingers into your soaked pussy, and playing with your clit, already sensitive enough to come again. 

He had trained you so well. This was your moment to shine. 

You came with him, looking up into the twisted agony on his face as he filled your belly with his load, trying to pull away to let you breathe, leaving a trail of thick spend all along your tongue and cheeks, your mouth full of him by the time he slid away from you. 

You made sure he was looking down at you when you spit him into your hands, letting his milk pool in your palms, rubbing him all over your puffy nipples and down between your swollen petals, pushing him into your pussy with your fingers only to return to your breasts to smear him around like a salve. As he watched you in excitement and a wild disbelief, his gaze darkened, and he wrapped his hand around your throat, bending down so that you could hear the rough growl in the timbre of his voice,

“Oh, baby. You just bought yourself round two.”

AO3 Link

Also, @glitterypirateduck - are we still in vacation mode?? 😅🩷

[miloformula123fan]

Could you do fic for Peter 'Bono' Bonnington with wife reader? Where his love language is like he make sure to bring a jacket if it's cold/rain for her, cheek/temple peck. And her love language is picking up his favorite snacks/meals from the store/homemade, holding hands/lean head on his shoulder. Just domestic things. Fully fluff and romantic. Add something else to it if it's not right. Thanks!! :))

haha, between me, this anon and @leosxrealm, we have 3 simps for bono

bono is hot. that is all i will say.

i also have a bit of an angsty part 2 (because angst is kinda what i do :) )

Please keep requesting - y'all have awesome ideas we agree on a lot of stuff :) - my guidelines are here, and if you want some prompts, they are here.

also feel free to come in and start chatting to me in my asks, would love to get to know y'all better

and if you want to be added to my taglist lmk :)

peter 'bono' bonnington x female!race engineer!reader

A jacket

Bono watched as his wife walked towards the ferrari garage, and then back to the pit wall. It was raining hard here, not unsurprising for Melbourne, and it was quite heavy, so the session had been delayed. As all the other engineers were doing, they were talking to the drivers and then working on data and double checking the radar. Bono supposed he was lucky in that way, all the information was in the garage for him. For Ferrari, the data was available on the pitwall, and the radar and the driver were inside, so he was watching his wife walk backwards and forwards in the rain, with no umbrella or even a raincoat, just in her ferrari clothes which were now soaked and with her hair sticking to her face he had no idea how she was even getting straight answers out of Carlos.

He once again saw her walk out again to the pitwall and start typing. He pulled up his own mercedes rain jacket before jogging out towards the ferrari pitwall. Y/N heard the footsteps approaching her pitwall and assumed it was Xavi or another Ferrari team member needing some data. However as she turned around she was not expecting to come face to face with her husband

“What are you doing here? Trying to steal our data?” Y/N grinned as she spun around to face her husband.

“Don’t think we need it, darling” Bono grinned back at his partner.

“Sorry, which team is coming 1st in the constructors, and which is coming 3rd?” She teased.

“Darling, there’s been 2 races.” Bono sighed, this was a regular occurrence in their household.

“Still counts. Anyway, what are you doing here, if not to steal our data?” Y/N’s face slightly fell as she tried to ascertain what her husband was doing here.

“It’s raining…” Bono attempted to explain

“No shit sherlock!” Y/ explained, looking surprised and sarcastic at Bono.

“You're wet…” he tried to continue

“Well thanks darling, I now know I can always rely on my husband to give me a good compliment. Although why’d you come out of the garage if not to also get wet. All your data is inside…” Y/N looked confused and sarcastic.

Bono shook his head, thinking and laughing about his wife’s banter, before holding out the unbranded rain jacket. “For your rushing between the Ferrari garage and the pit wall. You’re gonna catch a cold.”

She looked at him and smiled before taking the jacket and slipping it over her shoulders, nearly punching Bono in the process. She grimaced before looking up with an odd soft smile on her face

“Thanks babe.” She smiled sheepishly and looked won, before dashing once again out in the rain towards the ferrari garage. 

All safe and dry. Bono thought as he walked back to the Mercedes garage. Safe. Dry. and warm. That was how he liked to keep his partner.

A good luck kiss

“Hey, hey darling, before you go…” Bono approached her wife, just before the race. Lewis and Carlos were starting P5 and P6, so they were just opposite each other, so Bono worked out a way to sneak away quickly to see his wife.

“Yes, Peter?” Y/N turned away from the mechanic who had been trying to talk to her. Bono loved this about his partner, he’d often always found that he’d been talked over, but Y/N was one of the people who had always made sure that he was listened to and that his ideas were heard.

Yeah sure, Y/N sometimes snubbed other people as the Ferrari mechanic was seething over her shoulder, apparently desperate to continue talking to her, but she would never do it for him.

“Kiss for good luck?” Bono knew his puppy dog eyes were questionable, as a man in his mid 40s.

Bono smiles as he looks down on her, before leaning in and pressing a quick kiss to her lips.

“How can I say no to you?”

“You can’t!”

“I know.”

Picking up snacks

“So Carlos, I just wanted to discuss…”

Bono had been very sad to wake up all alone in the bed, but hearing his wife’s voice echo from the office next door made him realise what had happened.

He went into the kitchen, and pulled out the breakfast that they had been planning on having together today. He paused as he pulled it out, before pulling out the other jar, untouched. Y/N’s breakfast. He knew the meeting that Y/N was in was probably confidential, but he also knew that Y/N had been up for a while. So he shuffled into Y/N’s office and placed the jar of chia seed pudding and the spoon in front of Y/N.

When Y/N looked up to see food and spoon being placed on top of her plans, she was not sure what she was expecting to see, but it was not her partner, half asleep, without his glasses on, hair sticking up everywhere, in just a dressing gown and slippers, squinting at the minimal light that was on in the room.

‘What are you doing?’ Y/N mouthed at Bono

Bono shrugged before shuffling out of the room again.

Y/N grinned to herself, shovelling a mouthful of the chia seed pudding in her mouth before turning back to Carlos and continuing her spiel.

—

“I’m so sorry baby, they just called me at like 7am, and were like ‘we know it’s your day off but we don’t care so you have to come in’ and i’m not happy about it darling. It’s OUR day off and…” she buried her head in his chest “i wanna spend it with you.” she concluded in  a small voice.

They stayed like this for 10 minutes. Y/N with her head buried in Bono’s chest, before her phone started ringing again. Her groan was muffled in his chest, but he heard both the phone and the groan that followed.

“Hey, it’s okay, baby. I’ll do some of my work today, so then tomorrow we can still have a bit of a day off, even if it is not ‘officially’ a day off.”

“Mhm,” said Y/N as she began to extract herself from Bono’s hug. Bono, pulling her off as he grabbed a bowl he’d already prepared.

“Some trail mix darling, to get you through til lunch.”

“Thank you baby.”

—

“I know the data looks good, but it’s irrelevant until we get to testing and we can compare it to Red Bull and Mercedes. Yeah the data will…”

Bono had pulled on some earphones, while on a phone call with Toto, partially so he could get work done while he made lunch. He’d also left them on to visit his wife so that if she was talking about stuff that he wasn’t allowed to hear, it wouldn’t violate their NDAS.

Bono nudged the door with his elbow, holding a plate and a drink, in his hands. Y/N looked up from the chaos of her desk, hair frazzled, bin overflowing, data everywhere. Bono cleared a small space on the desk for the glass of water, and the plate with the egg salad lettuce wrap.

She grinned, as she took a bite into the wrap, before turning back to the computer and continuing her babbling, as Bono smiled as he shut the door and returned to his own room.

—

“Darling i love your food, but this truffle pasta is not as good as ferrari’s” - Y/N

“Next time we can go to Ferrari's hospitality then, or you can have my salmon.” - Bono

“I don’t want your salmon, I want Ferrari’s truffle pasta. Wait, there’s gonna be a next time? I think we should go to Red Bull if there’s gonna be a next time.” - Y/N grinned

“Based on their catering budget i reckon their pasta will somehow rival Ferrari’s” - Bono chuckled

“Well I guess next time we shall have to see!” - Y/N flashed her cheeky grin at him, as she dived back into the pasta.

“No, next time we have to go to Ferrari and see how much better pasta we can make.” - Bono insisted

“So we have 2 more dates planned, and then…”

Y/N could feel the eyes on her bright red Ferrari jacket in a sea of black, greys and whites in the Mercedes hospitality.

But the stares and whispered comments all faded as Bono laughed at some funny joke she had mentioned the ferrari screw ups so far this season.

Watching bono talk about the few things that mercedes had ever fucked up, made all the eyes fade away.

At least until Lewis, Toto and James all sat down and started chatting to Bono about various data that Y/N was sure that she wasn’t supposed to be hearing.

Bono cleared his throat “Um, guys? Is this really the time?”

Y/N did not miss the Cheshire cat grins on James and Toto’s faces “why of course now is the time, why wouldn’t now be the time?”

“Because I’m trying to have a nice calm and peaceful lunch with my wife and…”

Y/N preened at being labelled as Bono’s wife, at least until Lewis decided to open his big mouth

“We’re here because we were trying to work out if the rumours were true.”

“What rumours?”

“The rumours that there was a ferrari spy in the open eating out truffle pasta.”

“I mean it’s not very good truffle pasta. You should maybe not make pasta, it’s kinda ferrari’s thing.”

“Right, let’s divert money from the car development into the catering budget, i suppose.” Toto mused

“Yeah, maybe some funding out of the pit crew, because they will be more motivated, if they’re being fed better.”

“Bono, can we borrow your partner for financial advice?”

“Don’t know how she’d feel about that one.”

“Nah, happy at ferrari and yelling at people for stupid strategy.” She grinned, before finishing her drink, and giving Bono a kiss on his head before wandering off

Holding hands

Y/N looked up at Bono as he slipped his hand into hers . Slightly surprised by his demonstration of public affection, she tried to send him a questioning look. But he was looking full ahead trying to belt out the British anthem. He was stuffing up the anthem, he kept singing ‘god save the queen’ instead of ‘god save the king’. Y/N instead made eye contact with Susie, who smiled and then opened her mouth when she saw the hand holding. Y/N sent a look going ‘I KNOW RIGHT?’ and then they grinned at each other before looking forward again. So neither saw the small grin that filled Y/N’s face.

---

taglist: @leosxrealm, @tallrock35, @wolf-knights, @janeholt3

[skyfallslayer]

Should We Stay or Should We Go? || Chapter Two

-A ST Rewrite Feat. Steve Harrington x Henderson!OFC-

Main Masterlist || Series Masterlist

🎲Summary: On the night of November 6th, 1983, Stephanie Henderson decided to walk her little brother’s friend, Will, back home. However… they never arrive. Now, Dustin, Mike and Lucas, and soon the exception of the girl’s ex-best friend, Steve, must band together to find out what happened. Meanwhile, Steph and Will must fight for their survival in this nightmarish version of Hawkins, Indiana.

🎲Chapter Summary: Lucas, Mike and Dustin try to talk to the girl they found in the woods; And Hopper questions an anxious Joyce about an unsettling phone call; Steph and Will must continue to survive; And Steve’s eyes get opened in a way he never saw coming.

🎲Pairings: Will x Platonic!OFC; Dustin x Sister!OC; Slow burn! Steve x Henderson!OFC (Ex-bestfriends to Lovers); Slow burn! Byler

🎲Rating: Teen-Mature

🎲Word Count: 11,024 (Oh, my lord)

🎲Date: 5/16/24

🎲Warnings: Angst; Swearing; Implied Broken Friendship; Talks of Kidnapping; Mental Strain/Breaking Down; Implying Sex; Lying; Implied Suicide; Death/Killing; Talks of Corpses; Blood; Gun Use; Steve's 'Asshole Era. READ AT YOUR OWN RISK!

(And let me know if I missed anything)

🎲A/N: Jesus. This was a tough one to write and edit (Hopefully I didn't make too many mistakes). But, geez. Writing different POVs, everyone's thought was a tough one. But hopefully y'all can understand 😅. Also, I am NOT a D&D player, so some of lore just comes straight from the wiki. Hopefully that's reliable enough. Anyway, sorry for the delay. Enjoy!

|| THE NIGHT BEFORE || 

“What the fuck are you?!” Will heard her scream as the creature tried to outmatch her. The light above them grew brighter and brighter, and he squeezed his eyes shut while gripping her jacket tighter. He prayed this was just another nightmare. Maybe… Maybe he’s getting his wish when he hears the silence. Does he dare open his eyes and see the truth?

He’s scared, trembling, and it heightens when he hears the girl heaving for air. So much so he clenches his grip on the fabric tighter, the strange smelling air going through his nostrils causing him to gasp himself. When his eyes snapped open is when his coughing fit started.

He hears his name being called, and hands coming around his shoulders. He almost jerks away, afraid, until his orbs settle on the silhouette before him. 

“S-Steph?” He croaked, a sense of relief flooding his veins. “What just happened?” He could see the confusion on her face, looking around for clues. He followed her eyes, nose crinkling at the sight. “We’re still in the shed. But it’s… gross.”

She swallows. “Stay behind me.” She tells him, and guides herself through the door. They both shivered at the sudden drop in temperature. “Jesus, It’s freezing.”

Will and her looked around, the outside world seemed to be encased in a blue hue, the places around seemed to be tangled with vines and covered in something sticky. There was also a white powder that looked like snow, raining down from the dark skies above. A sky that didn’t even have moonlight like it did a few minutes ago.

“Did you hit your head when we crashed?” She asked after getting his attention away from the sky. 

He shakes his head, almost sadly. If that had both just hit their heads, would the situation have been better? He frowns, worriedly thinking away as the older girl tries to stay calm.

“Come on.” She says, gesturing to him to follow. “Let’s go inside. I want to see something.”

•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°

|| PRESENT || 

The rain was coming down more intensely than before, followed by the grumbling of thunder and lightning. Somehow, miraculously, the boys, mostly Wheeler, managed to convince the strange girl they found in the woods to return home with them, and hid her in the basement.

“Is there a number we can call for your parents?” Mike asked, worriedly as the girl looked between the three boys, all scared and confused.

“Where’s your hair? Do you have cancer?” Dustin spitted out, genuinely curious.

“Did you run away?” Lucas asked, skeptical. 

“Are you in some kind of trouble?” Mike says, just as his friend questions a red sustain on her shirt. He slaps his hand away quickly. “Stop it! You’re freaking her out!”

“She’s freaking me out!”

“I bet she’s deaf.” Dustin suggested, before taking a quick half step and smacking his hands together. The sound makes the girl flinch, and he frowns apologetically. “Not deaf.”

“That’s enough, all right? She’s just scared and cold.” Mike said, silencing the two before running over to the laundry basket and grabbing some clothes. “Here, these are clean. Okay?”

The girl takes them, taking a second to be grateful before she starts stripping– The boys freak out, Mike running up to stop her while the other two look away. 

“See over there?” He points. “Th-That’s the bathroom. Privacy. Get it?” She nods and he shows her inside. Just when he was about to shut it behind him, she grabs it forcibly. “You don’t want it closed?”

“No.” She finally says, surprising him.

“Oh, so you can speak. Okay, well… Um, how about we just keep the door…” He slowly moves it until there’s about three inches of space. “Just like this. Is that better?”

“Yes.”

Mike smiles and leaves her be, rejoining the group who were having a conversation of their own.

“This is mental.” Dustin said, freaking out.

“At least she can talk.” Mike points out, with Lucas shaking his head, replying,

“She said ‘no’ and ‘yes’. Your three-year-old sister says more.”

“She tried to get naked.” Dustin adds.

“There’s something seriously wrong with her.” Lucas said, touching his temple. “Like, wrong in the head.”

“She just went like…” The Henderson boy makes a motion of taking off shirt (and even knocked his own hat off his head).

“I bet she escaped from Pennhurst.”

“From where?” Mike said, eyebrow raised.

“The nuthouse in Kerley County.” 

“You got a lot of family there?” Dustin teased, getting a dirty look. 

“Bite me. Seriously though, think about it. That would explain her shaved hair and why she’s so crazy.”

“Why she went like…” He does the shirt motion again. In his mind this was helping him and Lucas’ case.

“‘She’s an escapee’ is the point. She’s probably a psycho.”

“Like Michael Myers.”

“Exactly! We should’ve never brought her here.”

“So you just wanted to leave her out in that storm?” Mike asks, irritated. 

“Yes! We went out to find Will–” 

“And Phanie.” Dustin pressures. 

“And Steph – not another problem!” Lucas agrees.

“I think we should tell your mom.”

“I second that.”

Mike holds his hand up. “Who’s crazy now?” 

“How is that crazy?” Lucas scoffed.

“‘Cause, we weren’t supposed to be out tonight, remember?”

“So?”

“So if I tell my mom and she tells your mom and your mom–”

Dustin’s eyes widened. “Oh, man.”

“Our houses become Alcatraz.” Lucas frowns.

“Exactly. We’ll never find Will, or Steph.” Mike says, seeing Dustin make the shirt motion once more, silently asking the question about the girl. “All right, here’s the plan. She sleeps here tonight.”

Henderson perked up again. “You’re letting a girl–” 

“Just listen! In the morning, she sneaks around my house, goes to the front door and rings my doorbell. My mom will answer and know exactly what to do. She’ll send her back to Pennhurst or wherever she comes from. We’ll be totally in the clear. And tomorrow night, we go back out. And this time, we find Will and Stephanie.”

Lucas and Dustin share a look, until one of them finally shrugged. “I guess that works.”  

“Great. We’ll start again tomorrow. Goodnight, guys.” Mike bid them as he went off to start making the mysterious girl a place to rest.

“This is crazy, man.” Lucas said, once they had snuck back out. “What the hell is Mike even thinking?”

“I don’t know. Do you think his plan will really work?” Dustin asked, as they headed over to where their bikes were hidden.

“I’m giving it less than a fifty percent chance of success.” He sighs. “I better get home.”

“Yeah, I guess so.”

“Hey, don’t look so sad.” He pats his curly haired friend on the back. “We’ll find them.”

“I just want my sister back. You have no idea.”

•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°

In the following morning, in the Byers house, the eldest seemingly was keeping it together, making the morning meal like he always does and hoping his worrying mother would have just a bite. 

“All right, Mom. Breakfast is ready.” Jonathan said, while placing the plate down in front of her, her thoughts being interrupted. 

“What?” His mother said, before moving some papers. “No, be careful of the poster.”

“Yeah, okay. All right–”

“I can’t eat.”

“I just need you to eat, Mom.”

“Listen, listen. The Xerox place opens in, like…” She looks down at her watch. “30 minutes–”

“Mom–”

“And I don’t want you to go alone–”

“No, I know. I told you, I got it.”

“So I’m gonna have Karen take you, ‘cause I should be here.” She gestures around, all jittery. “Claudia will meet you there, b-but if she’s not, she’ll reimburse us for the copies of Stephanie, I–”

He shakes his head with understanding. “Okay.”

“We need to make, what, 200, 300 copies?” He nods again. “How much is a copy?”

“Mom?”

“Ten cents?”

“Mom?” 

“If we– ten cents”

“Mom, Mom!” Jonathan stops her from counting the cash she had laid out, and squeezes her shoulder with her other hang to calm her. “Y-You can’t get like this, okay?”

“I’m sorry, I’m sorry.” Joyce replies, taking a shaky inhale of nicotine. 

“No, it’s okay.” He reassures her softly, just before someone comes knocking on their door. The mother rushed over with her son on her tail, busting the door wide open for the exhausted police officer. 

“We’ve been waiting six hours.” 

“I know, I came as soon as I could.” Hopper replies, nearly dead on his feet.

“Six hours.”

“A little bit of trust here, all right?” He slides his hat off. “We’ve been searching all night, went all the way to Cartersville.”

“And?”

“Nothing.”

Joyce made a choking sound and looked away. “God…”

Hopper frowns, sadly. “Flo says you got a phone call?”

“Oh, yeah.” Joyce nods and shows him their phone. 

He picks it, examining the speaker part of it which was charded black. “Storm barbecued this pretty good.”

She took a step back in surprise. “The storm?”

Hopper looked at her like she had two heads. “What else?”

“You’re saying that that’s not weird?”

“No, it’s weird.”

“Can we, like, trace who made the call? Contact the–”

“No, it doesn’t work like that.” He shakes his head, and then looks at her with all seriousness. “Now, uh, you’re sure it was Will? Because Flo said you just heard some breathing.”

“No. It was him, it was Will... and h-he was scared. And then something–”

“It was probably just a prank call. It was somebody trying to scare you.”

“Who would do that?” Joyce questioned, face full of confusion and sickness.

“Well, this thing’s been on TV. It brings out all the crazies, you know. False leads, prank calls, uh–”

“No, Hopper, it was not a prank. It was him.”

“Joyce.” He begins, as she denies him again

“Come on, how about a little trust here?” She laughs dryly. “What, you think I’m– I’m making this up?”

“I’m not saying that you’re making it up.” Hopper looks at her with concern again. “All I’m saying is it’s an emotional time for you.”

“And you think I don’t know my own son’s breathing?”

“Joyce–”

“Hopper, my son’s missing. A-And not only that, someone else’s daughter is missing.” She nervously takes a puff of her cigarette. “And you know what the mess up part about that is? Stephanie didn’t have to! She didn’t have to be the sweetheart she is and take my son home. She could have just drove past him, but she didn’t! She didn’t, Hop. And now I have to live with the thought that I made someone else’s kid go missing because I. Was. Working!” 

She ends with an emotional sigh, tightening the heavy tension it the room. Jonathan worriedly looking at his mother before, locking eyes with the police chief who was trying to find the right words to say.

“You hear from, uh, Lonnie yet?” Hopper asked after the small silence.

“No.”

“It’s been long enough.” He puts his hat back on. “I’m having him checked out.”

“Oh, come on!” She sighs loudly, watching him leave. “You’re wasting your time.” Then the door shuts, and rubs her temple. “Jesus. He never listens!”

Jonathan ponders for a moment, before asking, “Mom, how likely is it that Will would actually go to Lonnie’s?”

“I…” Joyce runs a hand through her messy locks. “It’s possible, but he lives a long, long way. Especially on foot. But… I don’t– maybe he would! I…” She sighs again, overwhelmed. “However, I don’t think he would have gone with Stephanie. He’s… W-Will knows your father’s not the best man, and Will, you know, has that heart of gold.”

That got a chuckle out of both of them. “Yeah.”

“I don’t think Will would have risked Stephanie like that.” She shakes her head. “No. She’s an older kid, and older sister. As much as this sounds messed up, she would have done anything to make sure Will was safe. I know it. So… my question is…” She locks eyes with her son. “What would a girl her age think is a safe place for a young boy?”

•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°

|| TWO NIGHTS AGO ||

Stephanie flipped the lightswitch on in the kitchen out of curiosity, but finds herself still submerged in darkness. “Just what I thought. There’s no light.” She says with a frown.

“The flash of light we saw–” Will looks up at her. “Do you think it was a power outage?” 

“I don’t think there’s light here, I mean-” She starts walking around, rubbing her shaking hands together. “Look at this place. I don’t think we’re in Hawkins anymore.” She shivers just a smidge. “At least it’s a little warmer inside here.” Then she hears a distressful sound. “Will?”

The boy was pale, pupils blown wide and had a small tremble. “W-What do you m-mean we’re not in Hawkins anymore?” He asked, lip quivering with a slight pant. “B-But th-this looks like my house. D-Did w-we get taken somewhere else? Can we even g-go home? I–”

“Shit… Will–” She rushes over, hands coming up to his shoulders while she gets on one knee. “Will? Hey, bud, listen– hey.” She makes sure his gaze meets hers. “Don’t freak out. I know it’s scary, but we’re going to figure this out. Once we do, I’m going to get us home, I promise.”

The boy sniffles into his shoulder, fighting back tears. “You promise?”

“I promise.” She says it without realizing the fate of those words.

He swallows and extends out a certain finger. “Pinky promise?”

Her breath was nearly taken away by that certain question, taking her far back into a distant memory. But… like hell she’s going to let that memory change her judgment. She interlocks hers with his and repeats, “Pinky promise.”

That got him to crack a smile. “So, what next?” He asks, making her rack her brain for a plan.

•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°

|| PRESENT DAY ||

He woke up again to his cat’s crying. The young Henderson frowns, heart clenching at how Mews was wondering where his sister was at. For the urban legend of how cats had no emotions, he’s certainly not seeing it. He rubbed his eyes and wandered aimlessly around, the thought of calling sick into school was still fresh in his mind. Should he? I mean it made sense, and it wasn’t like the school won’t understand, so….

Was that a yes?

He walked through the hallway, curls in his eyes as slows in front of his sister’s bedroom. His cat locked eyes with him, sadness and confusion filled the slitted pupils. Mews meows again.

“She’s not back yet.” Dustin says, getting a chirp. “We’re trying. She’ll be back soon.” He starts walking away, hearing him make a sad sound once more. 

“Dusty-bun, I’m going to make some posters.” Claudia said, who were gathering her belongings by the door. “I left you breakfast on the stove.”

His nervous fingers gripped his t-shirt as he tried not to sound so down. “Hey, Mom?” Her eyes meet his gaze. “Is it okay if I… stay home today?”

Claudia’s face softens bittersweetly. “Of course you can, sweety. If you leave the house for whatever reason, just leave me a note where you’re going, that’s all I ask.” She gives him a kiss on his hairline, and is one foot out the door before adding, “Oh! And be back before dark. Okay? Your Mama doesn’t need to worry about another kid.”

“Can do.”

He watches her smile and closes the door, locking it. He frowns at that action, I mean they’ve never locked their door before, and now it was becoming second nature. He was even surprised she told him he could leave the house. Or… did she not expect him to leave this place in the state he’s in? Sounds like something she would do.

He sighs and heads for the kitchen to make himself a plate. He didn’t have much of an appetite, really, but he didn’t want to hurt his mother’s feelings or make her beg for him to eat – he didn’t want to call ‘pot kettle black’ since he was the one that had to convince his mourning mother to eat last night. But it was hard, his fork just picking at the food, cutting it into smaller pieces to stare at before dropping his utensil onto the plate.

Steph… His fingers dug into his pocket and pulled the gold chain out, letting it sprawl out in his palm. He stares at it intensely, thinking. Come on, Sis, give me a sign. What happened to you and Will? What caused you to go off road and run? Run with Will’s shotgun out of all things?

What had got her so scared that they needed a weapon to protect themselves? Both her and Will were the last two people that would resort in violence, so the fact that they decided to arm themselves with a weapon tells him that something sinister was up.

But what? Dustin lays the necklace down next to him, pretending that she was here to eat with him like she always does, before deciding it was time to munch on what was left on his plate.

•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°

Hopper struggles to keep his mind clear after that conversation with Joyce. His thought always going back to this particular moment:

.

““Stephanie didn’t have to! She didn’t have to be the sweetheart she is and take my son home. She could have just drove past him, but she didn’t! She didn’t, Hop. And now I have to live with the thought that I made someone else’s kid go missing because I. Was. Working!””

.

Of course the woman felt guilty about everything. I mean, your kid goes missing, who else are you going to blame other than yourself? But she also was chipping away at the idea it was her fault that that poor girl was missing too. Blames herself for working later than usual, and wasn’t the one to come across her own son on the road and pick him up. That’s a lot of guilt for someone who’s holding the family together on her own.

He listens to the volunteers shout the children’s names, hoping that they would shout back. Hopper wishes that too. He prays that one of them would yell back for help and get this nightmare over with.

“Hey!” He shouts at the two officers. “Anything?”

Callahan shakes his head. “You?”

“No, nothing but a dead phone.”

“Joyce?”

Hopper nods. “About one step from falling off the edge.”

“She’s been a few steps for a while now, hasn’t she?” Powell asked, as he’s met with a stern glare. 

“Kid’s missing, man. Show a little class.” Hopper snaps, making them avert their eyes.

“All right…”

He exhales and takes off with the rest of the group, shouting, “Come on, let’s go! We got a lot of ground to cover.” He keeps his fingers crossed that this would be it. That this would be the search that brings them home.

For their mothers' sake.

For his sake.

For every goddamn person out of here’s sake. 

•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°

|| THE NIGHT BEFORE ||

Stephanie shifted through the last cabinet and frowns. “Well, we can’t cook anything because there’s no electricity. But we can eat the dry goods. Unless we can figure out how to start a fire” She sighs, and wrinkles her nose. I mean, they can go a few days without eating if they didn’t want to touch the box of crackers covered in goo. But water? How were they supposed to have water if the faucet comes out with something they probably shouldn’t drink.

She rubs her temples, thinking. “I guess we’re going to have to look for some bottled stuff to drink.” She makes contact with the boy who just entered the room. “How you feeling?”

“Fine. I got a bit of a chill, but we can still grab clothes out of the closets if we need it.” Will replies, hugging his walkie talkie close.

“And the call?”

“Nothing. I mean I could hardly ever get reception over here anyway, so maybe we can try finding a different spot.”

“That wouldn’t be a bad idea." She says with a sigh. “Where’s the shotgun?”

“Oh, uh– Mom’s room.” He points behind him.

“Alright, maybe I’ll take a peek outside. If it seems clear, maybe we can try to find some reception.” 

Stephanie leaves the room with Will looking back at his walkie. He had to remain strong, hopeful. He has to get through to someone. His friends, his family, one of them has to be able–

Wait.

Was he hearing things? Was his mind playing tricks?

His eyes trail to his living room where he swears he heard someone talking. It was faint, but you can’t miss it. 

It sounds like… His chest tightens at a thought, his brown orbs blown wide as he looks at the yellow phone on the wall. It was probably hopeless, stupid even, I mean… the damn thing didn’t work when Stephanie tried to call for help when they were being chased. But that was the real world, this was… fake? Maybe it different, maybe it’s—

Oh, shit.

Maybe he’s just grasping at straws at this point and hopes it turns out okay.

His fingers latch around the phone, pulling it off the receiver and dials his home’s number, praying with all his might that this ridiculous idea would actually work. 

Come on, come on, come on, come on, com–

Oh, he felt like crying when someone picked up.

[ ‘Hello?’ ]

His mother’s voice broke through and poke him in the heart. He couldn’t breath as relief washed over him like a storm.

[ ‘Hello? Lonnie? Hopper? Who is this?’ ]

Say something, say something, say something– His lip quivers as he swallows. “M-Mom?” He can’t wait till Steph hears about this. “M-Mom, I-It’s me.” 

She can hear me right? She has to. 

[ ‘Will? Will? It’s Will!’ ]

[ ‘Mom, it’s Will?’ ]

He could cry upon hearing the second voice. “J-Jonathan? Mom? M-Me and Stephanie are tr-trap in some weird place! I-I don’t know what t-to–”

Then he was cut off by the dreadful sound of the monster. Will watched as its claws wrapped around the corner, almost like it was pulling itself into the kitchen. He doesn’t even know where it came from. He didn’t even hear it freaking come in! 

He froze on sight, his mother shouting something he couldn’t make out as the beast with no eyes looked directly at him. He wanted to scream but it was stuck in his throat. Is this how he was going to die? Die by listening to his mother’s pleas to answer her?

It shrieked and seemed to get bigger, ready to strike him down before it took a bullet to the face. The shot made it fall against the wall, and Will drops the fried phone and backs himself away. Stephanie looked half scared to death too as she cocks the shotgun again and fires one more when it stands up, sending it flying to the living room. As quickly as her buckling knees could hold her, she rushes over to Will, pulling him behind her as she aims the barrel into the direction the beast was. Shaking intensely, she carefully peeks around the corner to find that it had completely vanished like it did earlier. She gasps in shock before sliding to the ground herself, mentally drained.

“Steph!!” Will calls out with worry. He could see her eyes glassing over, her skin becoming paler as she shouts, 

“Where the fuck are we?!” 

•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°

|| PRESENT DAY || 

Steve strolls into school, head in the clouds, and an aching feeling in the pit of his stomach. His sleep went to complete shit after the conversation with his girlfriend last night. He still doesn’t understand why it was affecting him so much. It’s not like him and Steph hung out anymore. So why is he losing sleep over this?

You’re not even friends anymore, Harrington. He mentally slaps himself. Get your shit together– 

“Boo!” Tommy yelled, jumping out from behind the corner, startling him.

“Jesus, Hagan.” Steve said, holding his chest while the other teen laughed.

“That was so easy.”

“So–” Carol’s arm snakes around him with a grin. “Did you tell your little girlfriend about your party?” 

“I-I… not yet.” 

“What? You didn’t tell her at her house yesterday?” 

“N-No. Never got the chance to.”

“What?!” Tommy scoffs. “Stealthy Stevie didn’t get to use his skills last night?” Him and his girlfriend laughed, but then grew quiet seeing how distant the King was being. “What the fuck’s going on with you, man?”

“Um…” Steve’s gaze gets caught onto someone else, spotting a certain person posting a certain flier up on the bulletin board. He swallows, and masks a fake smile. “You guys go ahead to class. I got to grab something out of my locker.”

“Oh, we can go with you.” Carol begins, trying to follow him but he shakes them off.

“No, no. Go ahead. I’ll meet you there.” Steve ignores the strange looks they gave him before walking away. Deciding this was the ‘only’ way, he rushes over to the oldest Byers kid, ‘accidently’ pushing his shoulder into his, knocking the papers out of his hand while he was leaving. He scoffs, while saying, “Watch where you’re going!” 

Jonathan says nothing as he bends over to collect the rest, oblivious to the other teenager sliding a paper away with his foot. Once he leaves, Steve retrieves the flier from under his shoe, reading it over.  

  HAVE YOU SEEN ME? Stephanie Henderson Age 16, 5’4” Brown Hair, Blue Eyes, 110lbs. Last seen wearing a brown work uniform, black jacket, white sneakers, and a baseball cap. Reach out to Claudia Henderson or Joyce Byers at #### or #### 

Steve stares with a distant look in his eyes, thumb brushing over her picture. Such a gentle smile for a gentle person. God… why did they have to use that picture? It was right before he–

He frowns, throwing his head back. 

Fuck… 

What the hell was he supposed to do now?

•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°

Back at the Wheeler’s house, Mike decided to stay home, his parents totally unaware of him doing so. He showed the new girl around his place, acting a bit giggly when they finally got to his room. He was so excited to show off his action figures, and comic books, and anything else that he holds close to his heart. He didn’t even realize she was starting to wander off to where a collection of trophies were. Her brown eyes grew with fascination by them.

“Oh, these are all my science fair trophies. We got first every year.” Mike’s smile drops just a tad. “Except for last year when we got third. Mr. Clarke said it was totally political.”

Yeah, it totally was that. He expected some kind of reaction from her, except for the one where her eyes widened and she slowly pointed to the picture of Will in their fair picture together.

Mike perked up, hopeful. “You know Will? Did you see him? Last Night? On the road? Did–” He pauses. “Hang on a sec.” Maybe he’s getting his hopes up as he grabs another photo after shifting around in his drawer. It was a picture of his friends’ families at the lake, posing nicely for the camera. 

He points to the girl in the right hand corner. “This is Stephanie. She’s his sister.” He points to Dustin who’s hanging out behind her. “She supposedly gave Will a ride the night he disappeared, and we can’t find her either. Did you see her too?”

The girl studies Steph’s face, slowly the same reaction she had from seeing Will returned as she pointed again. “I–”

Her answer was cut short when they heard something from outside. Mike gets up quickly, peeking through his curtains to see his mother’s car pulling into the driveway. He pales.

“Shit.” He rushes to grab her by the hand and strings her along. “We gotta hide!”

•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°

|| HOURS BEFORE ||

Of course the eldest stayed awake for most of the night, the two of them tucked away in the far corner of Will’s room, her eyes trained on the door just in case that wretched monster appeared again. She kept a good grip on the shotgun, one foot planted on the ground for a quick pop up if needed. Adrenaline was pumping in her blood, she was fighting off her exhaustion and hunger, while a tune played on her dry lips.

“♪ Here we stand

Worlds apart, hearts broken in two. Two. Two

Sleepless nights.

Losing ground, I’m reaching for you. You. You

Feeling that it’s gone

Can’t change your mind

If we can’t go on

To survive–♪”

Will stirred beside her, his head resting on her shoulder that was starting to fall asleep, but she refused to jostle the kid. God knows he needs his rest. Well… so does she, but she’ll get around to that. 

Her mind wanders back to the conversation they had last night, the one where Will admitted he spoke to his mother on the phone. Shock wasn’t the right word, especially when she examined the phone that had been burnt black, and when asking again if he heard that right, the youngest Byers swears he did. 

Is there actually a way to communicate to… well… ‘our world’, I guess. She ponders on that thought, wondering if it’s possible to do so without frying your phone to death. Not to mention Will swears he heard people talking before calling his mother. Can we only communicate to the people we ‘hear’? 

She scolds herself. This hurts my head too much.

“♪ –The tide

Love divides

Someday, love will find you

Break those chains that bind you

One night will remind you

How we touched and went our separate ways

If he ever hurts you

True love won’t desert you

You know I still love you

Though we touched and went our separate ways– ♪”

Will stirred again, this time waking up slowly with a groan. “Was it a dream…?” He whispers, his eyes opening at a snail pace.

“I wish.” Steph says, sadly.

“Did you sleep okay?” He asks, rubbing his face.

Her heart skips a beat and a lie slips out. “Uh, yeah. It was fine.”

“That’s good.”

“We shouldn’t stay here.” She says, surprising him. “We should probably move around, maybe lose that monster for a while. And you’re probably hungry too, I know my mom keeps cans and bottled water down in our basement for emergencies. That should tie us over for a little while.”

“Is it even safe to go out?” He wonders, yet intrigued. He’ll admit… he is a bit famished. 

“I don’t know. But we got to try. Right?”

•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°

“Whoa, whoa. Careful, careful.” Hopper says as he snags his partner by the collar. “I need you alive for the next few days, at least.”

Callahan smirked and scoffed as he gestures to the Quarry below. “Oh, hell, I could survive that.” He said, making his superior laugh. “What? George Burness made the jump. And he was drunk as a skunk. He did it on a $10 bet.”

“George is a liar. You make that jump from this height, that water turns into cement. Hits you like a ton of bricks.” Hopper smacks his hands together. “Break every damn bone in your body.”

The youngster pondered on that for a second before shaking his head. “Nah.”

[ ‘Chief, you copy?’ ] 

Hopper grabs his walkie from his belt. “Yeah, Flo, talk to me.”

[ ‘Hey, Chief, we got a call from over at Benny’s. I think you need to get there right away.’ ]

And those were words he didn’t want to hear. So he and his team rushed over there as quickly as they could, and the first they were met with was the smell of a rotting corpse. 

“Ugh, Jesus!” Callahan said, covering his nose.

“Suicide?” Powell asked, after a moment of silence. 

Hopper hummed and stared in disbelief at the man laying on the table, pistol in hand and a bullet wound straight through the temple. There’s no way this can be real.

“Missing kid, suicide.” Callahan frowns. “You must feel like a big city cop again, huh, Chief? 

“Well, I mostly dealt with strangers back then.” Hopper replies, this particular moment he almost broke down. “Benny was my friend.”

•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°

|| HOURS BEFORE ||

Stephanie peeked outside before gesturing to Will to follow. The two of them had backpacks on that they found lying around, going to use them to fill up with anything they could find – But the task that lay ahead was going to be hard. The task was…

Walking back through Mirkwood to the Henderson home. 

No lights, just a few bullets to spare, and their pure will to survive (Or maybe it’s the fear that’s fueling that will).

“I don’t like this.” Will mutters, only a few minutes after they left the Byers’ driveway and down a few feet on the road. “What if that thing spawns in front of us again?”

“Then we shoot it and book it again. That’s all we can do now.” Steph replies, carefully looking around. But what if he’s right? What if thing actually just spawns out of thin air? Then there’s not telling where and when not to go.

He stays silent, shaking a tad as they make it further down the road. It took a hot minute for the older girl to notice this and stop briefly, the twelve year old’s eyes confused just as she held out her hand. Without missing a beat, his clammy hand takes it, squeezing it tight. She smiles just a tad, reminding her of Dustin before they started walking again.

She felt him hang on to dear life as they strolled into the darkest part of Mirkwood, the eeriness that was silence was making their hearts race. She came to a conclusion after facing the monster last night that she had to be the strong one here. She has to act like the older sister again, and remain calm, and to keep him safe.

I made a promise. I don’t know how to fulfill it just yet, but I’m going to get him out of here. Steph casts a glance down at him, the poor boy’s face looked so cold. Does hers look like that too?

She grins after a quick thought. “Hey–” His eyes locked with hers. “What does a ‘Ranger’ do in D&D? That one sounds intriguing to me.”

His face lights up. “You actually want to play D&D?”

“Hey, you suggested it, I might as well. So, the Ranger? What’s that like? The lore?”

“Well, Rangers are warriors that explore different civilizations, and they hunt down the deadliest of monsters. They’re trained in many different combat techniques, survival skills, and even some magic.”

“Magic? I like the sound of that.”

“They mostly reside in the forest, or anything ‘nature-y’.” 

She chuckles. “I don’t like the sound of that. What else? Aren’t there like… classes… or different types?

“Oh, yeah.” He nods. “I guess it depends on what you prefer. Do you want me to tell you?”

“I’m all ears.” Steph said, making a motion. I’m just glad he’s stopped shaking.

“Well, there’s a lot. The most common ones are ‘Beast Masters’, which are accompanied with an animal companion. Then there’s ‘Hunters’, which are mainly just professional assassins that take down monsters of all sorts. Now, even though all Rangers have the capability of taking monsters down, Hunters are strictly made just to do that.”

She hums. “Interesting.”

“Then there’s ‘Gloom Stalkers’, who live mostly in dark realms, and take down the shadowy beasts roaming the territory. They’re pretty good at ambushing their opponents.” He smiles. “Personally, I find that the coolest.”

“Well, I can see why. What else? Do Rangers get weapons?” 

“Of course! The most common is a two-blade or archery.”

“Archery sounds cool.”

“See, I agree. But I know Lucas always says it’s ‘stupid’, so–”

Steph shakes her head with a sigh. “Oh, well. I guess I’ll have to prove him wrong when I play.”

“So you are going to play with us!” Will said, joyfully, like you just told him Christmas was coming early.

“If that’s how I prove Lucas wrong, then so be it. So how does one newbie play D&D?” She asked, hopefully this will keep him occupied. At least I can keep him distracted until we get there.

•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°

|| PRESENT ||

“Are you out of your mind?” Lucas said, as soon as Mike was done with his explanation for them being here. 

“Just listen to me.” Mike pleads.

“You are out of your mind–”

“She knows about Will and Steph.”

Dustin perks up after being the silent one here. “What do you mean she knows about them?”

Mike grabs the pictures from earlier and holds them up. “She pointed at them, at their picture. She knew they were missing. I could tell.”

“You could tell?” Lucas asked, looking between the pictures and the girl who was on the bed.

“Just think about it. Do you really think it was a coincidence that we found her on Mirkwood, the same place where they disappeared?”

Dustin nodded, agreeing. “That is weird.”

“And she said bad people are after her.” Mike said, with a frown. “I think maybe these bad people are the same ones that took Will and Steph. I think she knows what happened to them.”

“Then why doesn’t she tell us?” Lucas asked, glaring at her direction before stomping over. “Do you know where they are?” He grabs her by the shoulder. “Do you know where Will and Stephanie are?!” 

“Stop it, you’re scaring her!” Mike pulls him away, as his friend brushes him off.

“She should be scared! If you know where they are, tell us! This is nuts. We have to take her to your mom.”

“No! Eleven said telling any adult would put us in danger.”

“What kind of danger?” Dustin asked, his thoughts from earlier about his sister and Will taking a shotgun with them crossed his mind.

Lucas gives him a weird look. “Her name is Eleven?” 

“El for short.” Mike clarifies.

“Mike! What kind of danger?” Dustin pushes, his stomach turning.

“Danger danger!” The brunette makes a finger gun and points it between Henderson’s eyes before moving over towards Lucas who demises quickly.

“No, no, no!” Sinclair snaps, rushing for the door. “We’re going back to plan A. We’re telling your mom.”

He pulls open the door only for it to slam shut automatically. Not even batting an eye at that, he tries again, for it to not only to shut with more force but to even lock itself. The boys look back at the only explanation, and they see El standing on her feet with a drop of blood coming out of her nose.

“No.” She said, with a tone that told them not to push it.

•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°

Back at the station, Hopper was questioning an anxious friend of Benny’s. Earl was his name, and he was sitting in a chair, eyes full of disbelief as he lit a cigarette.

“Just doesn’t make any sense, Chief.”

“You, uh, notice anything odd about him the last few weeks?” Hopper asked, trying to keep it professional (even though this case was hurting him the most). 

Earl shakes his head. “No, we’re fixin’ to go fishing down the Etowah next Sunday. I mean, he was lookin’ forward to it. I know that.”

“He got any enemies you might know about? I mean, people who might not want him around?”

“The exes didn’t like him much. That’s for sure, but… nah.”

“When was the last time you saw him?”

“Yesterday. Lunch, same as always.”

“Just you and the boys?”

“Yep. Me and Henry and…” He pauses. “Well, there was this, uh, this kid. No kid did this.”

“Kid?” Hopper nearly perked up hope. “What are you talking about?”

“Yeah. At lunch, uh, there was this boy that, uh I mean, he was trying to steal food out of Benny’s kitchen. Can you imagine that?”

Hopper locked eyes with Callahan who got the silent message. “This kid what’d he look like?”

“Well, he was about yea high.” Earl raises his arm up and out. “You know, tiny like. I didn’t get a good look at him, though. He was back in the kitchen.”

“He look like this?” Callahan asked, coming back with a missing kid poster of Will. 

He takes the flier, and immediately shakes his head. “Oh, no, that’s… that’s Lonnie’s missin’ kid. No. This was a different kid. This one had really short hair. I mean, it was buzzed nearly down to the scalp.”

Hopper tries not to let his composure break, and continues to hold on to the slimmer of hope. “Yeah, well, let’s… You know, let’s forget about the haircut. I mean, if this kid had a buzz cut… could it be Lonnie’s kid?”

“Well, I-I… didn’t get a good look at him. About the right height, though. I mean, could’ve been. Yeah, that’s… Could’ve been.”

Hopper frowns, taking the poster back from him. “And, you only saw the boy right? No girl? Teenager? Dark hair?”

“No.” Earl shakes his head once more. “No. I didn’t see a girl.”

The Chief mentally sighs. This is not good.

•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°

[ ‘A party?’ ]

Finally! Steve thought, pumping his fist. She finally sounded intrigued. He was hoping this would make up for his weird behavior at school. 

And, no, no, no, It wasn’t because of– well… ‘you know who’. Totally not because of her. Totally, totally, totally not–

[ ‘Steve?’ ]

Nancy’s voice broke through his totally not clouded mind. “Uh, yeah, sorry. Yeah, a party. Well… kind of. It’s just going to be me, Tommy H. and Carol. No parents for the whole weekend, so we wouldn’t have to worry about them coming in and ruining the mo-jo.”

Just my friends and my girlfriend. Just having fun, no worries about–

[ ‘Not much of a party with just four people.’ ]

He laughs. “Okay, I’ll admit, it’s a little sad. But you know, it’s better this way. And, you know, if you want to, you can invite Barbara. If it makes you feel more comfortable. Or not. Or you don’t have to come–”

[ ‘Steve.’ ]

“Yeah?”

[ ‘I’ll totally come. But I’m going to try to convince Barb first if that’s alright.’ ]

“Yeah, Yeah. Totally. It starts at seven.”

[ ‘Starts at seven. Got it. I’ll see you then.’ ]

He smiles. “See you then. Bye.”

[ ‘Bye.’ ] 

“Yes!” He said, once he hung up the phone. “Finally.” He feels his spirits get lifted again. “This is going to be perfect.”

•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°

|| HOURS BEFORE ||

“Welcome to Mi Casa.” Stephanie said, upon entering her home. Just as gross and dark as Will’s. 

“You said the basement, right?” Will asked, the thought of eating something sounded nice.

“Yep.” 

They thought navigating below “sunlight” was going to be hard, but I guess living in darkness for nearly twenty-four hours had its perks. Finding the tote where the emergency supplies were easier than they thought, their stomachs growing when they saw the cans of food. 

“Hang on second.” Steph said, disappearing back up the stairs for a sec, and then coming back with some forks and a can opener. She uses her shirt to wipe it clean the best she could before using. “Pineapple or Peaches?”

“Pineapple, please.” Will said, drooling as she placed the open can in his hands. The two of them plop down criss-cross applesauce, sighing with relief that they could finally take a rest.

“We’ll have to take what we can, but don’t make your bag too heavy in case we need to run again. Got it?” She replies, sliding over a bottle of water to him too. He nods, and takes a second to chug some liquid too.

One can was enough for now, since none of them had any clue how long they’ll be here, they’ll need to ration what they can find. Food, water, a first aid kit, some mittens and hats, an extra jacket, socks (And Will was proud to find a half box of matches laying around).

“Do we need anything else?” He asked, making her think.

She hums, and feels around her pockets. “We need more ammo. Or another gun at least.”

“Do you have any?” 

“No. I don’t.” She closes her eyes. Now where could we get more nearby? 

But the more she thought about it, the more she dreaded. She does know one place they have a gun, and hopefully still does since it’s been so long. 

She sighs. “I know… one place that has a gun. It’s far though. Really far. It’ll take us a couple hours to get there on foot. But it’s closer than going to town.” 

“If that’s what we have to do, then let’s do it.” Will said, sliding his backpack back on, ready to start their journey again. He flashes her a goofy grin. “I hope I can count this as PE for school.”

If that was a joke to cheer her up then it totally worked. 

•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°

Now that they might have a lead, the police and its volunteers spread out in the woods behind Benny’s diner, hoping to find some good news (For Hopper’s sake he really hopes so). 

“Hey, you think Earl really saw Will?” Callahan asked, trying to keep up with his Boss’ speed. “I mean, what’s he doin’ with a shaved head? And stealing food from Benny?”

“Tell you what, when we find him, we’ll ask.” Hopper replies, with an attitude. 

“Can’t ask a corpse questions.” Powell said, getting a glare. Suddenly, one of the volunteers blew a whistle. 

“Hold up! You got something?” Hopper shouted and broke into a sprint. “Hey, what do you got?”

“Not sure.” The person said, crouching down next to a drain. “Maybe nothing. I found this. In there.”

Hopper takes a piece of fabric from his hand, before shining his flashlight through the drain, still hopeful that maybe he was lying in there, scared but safe. 

“No way a kid crawls through there.” Powell said, in denial.

“I don’t know… a scared enough one might. His brother said he was good at hiding.”

“Yeah, but, just Will?” Callahan asked, conflicted. “What happened to Stephanie? ‘Cause there ain’t no way a teenager’s going to fit through this drain pipe.”

“Maybe they separated?” Powell questioned. 

“I’m not so sure about that. Claudia said her daughter would never leave anyone behind.”

“Willingly that is.”

“Come on, you two.” Hopper said, jogging again.

This time, they decided to follow the drain pipe that led them further into the forest. Just as their knees were about to give out, they’re met with an electric fence and a keep out sign for the one and only…

.

.

.

Hawkins Lab.

•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°

“El?” Mike announces his arrival into the basement. He had just finished having dinner with his family, and even convinced his mom to let his friends stay the night. All part of his plan to figure out what was happening to his missing family.

“No adults. Just us and some meatloaf.” He continues, placing a tray down in front of the makeshift fort, letting her know to come out. Her eyes trail to him and then to the two boys falling behind. “Don’t worry. They won’t tell anyone about you. They promise. Right?”

“We never would’ve upset you if we knew you had superpowers.” Dustin said, before getting hit in the leg by Mike. “Ow!”

“What Dustin is trying to say is that they were just scared… earlier. That’s all.”

“We just wanted to find our friends.” Lucas admitted, feeling a tad guilty for his actions. 

“‘Friends’?” El asked, confused by that word. It was so foreign to her. What does it even mean? 

“Yeah, friends. Will? Steph?”

“What are ‘friends’?” 

Lucas gave her a weird look. “Is she serious?” Henderson shrugged. “Um, a friend–”

“Is someone that you’d do anything for.” Mike cuts in. 

“You lend them your cool stuff, like comic books and trading cards.” Dustin adds.

“And they never break a promise.”

“Especially when there’s spit.” Lucas also puts in, making sure she was getting it.

“Spit?” El said, tilting her head.

“A spit swear means–” He spits into his palm. “You never break your word.” He holds his hand out for Dustin to take and shake. “It’s a bond.”

Mike nods in agreement. “That’s super important, because friends… they tell each other things. Things that parents don’t know.”

•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°

Barbara finally pulls the car over to the side after her friend insisted they stop here. She looks over at the brunette with a strange look. “What are we doing here? His house is three blocks away.”

“We can’t park in the driveway.” Nancy said, making the ginger roll her eyes.

“Are you serious?”

“Yeah, the neighbors might see.”

“This is so stupid.” Barb shakes her head. “I’m just gonna drop you off.”

“Calm down, Barb. Come on. You promised that you’d go.” Nancy pleaded with her ‘baby doe’ face. “You’re coming. We’re gonna have a great time.”

“He just wants to get in your pants.”

Nancy chuckles with disbelief. “No, he doesn’t.”

“Nance… seriously. He invited you to his house. His parents aren’t home. Come on, you are not this stupid.”

“Tommy H. and Carol are gonna be there.”

“Tommy and Carol have been having sex since, like, seventh grade.” Barb cringes at the thought. “It’ll probably just be, like, a big orgy.”

“Gross.”

“I’m serious!”

“All right, well…” Nancy takes her seat belt off and starts unbuttoning her sweater. “You can be, like, my guardian. All right? Make sure I don’t get drunk and do anything stupid.”

“Ugh.” Barb said, shaking her head. She watches as her friend takes her top off and starts fiddling around in her purse for another one. “Is that a new bra?”

Nancy pauses. “No.”

“So, obvious, Nancy…”

“Hey.”

•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•° 

“What’s the weirdo doing?” Lucas asked, watching her sit at their D&D table and close her eyes. 

“El?” Mike said, as they gathered around, waiting.

When she opens her eyes, she slowly gravitates to one of the pieces and picks it up. “Will.” She replies, showing it was the Wizard piece, the one that the boy always plays as.

“Superpowers.” Dustin said, as Lucas rolled his eyes, still not convinced about this whole thing. 

“Did you see him? On Mirkwood? Do you know where he is?” Mike asks, just before she brushes the rest of the figures off the board and flips it over. She places the wizard piece on the board. “I don’t understand.”

“Hiding.” She replies, the boys looking at one another. She then places another figure down, surprising them.

“Who is that supposed to be?” Lucas asked, as Dustin perked up.

“The Ranger. Is that Stephanie?” He asked, as she nodded. “Are they hiding?” She nods again. “Together.” Another nod.

“From the bad men?” Mike asked, but she shakes her head in disappointment. “Then from who?”

And without saying another word she places another figure down.

It was a beast with two heads.

.

.

.

The Demogorgon.

•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°

|| NOW ||

It took a while like she said, and luckily they had no trouble getting there, but what was troubling the young boy was that she wouldn’t tell him where they were going. Was she embarrassed by this place? Did something happen? He doesn’t know, but it’s gnawing at him.

“We’ve arrived.” She said, as they were coming up to it.

It was… a pretty big house, much bigger than his and even his friends’ houses. He wonders if this was one of the rich neighbourhoods or something like that. And sure enough… his questions would be answered when he happened to catch the name on the mailbox. 

Oh.

Oh.

Oh.

Now he understands why she didn’t say anything. 

“So this is the…” Was he choosing his words correctly? “The King’s house?”

“Yep.” Stephanie said, hand on the doorknob which miraculously opened. She rolls her blue eyes. “They still keep it unlocked.” They stepped inside, still gloomy and covered in vines and goo like the last two. “Let’s go upstairs.”

Will follows behind, observing everything that seemed a bit foreign for him. “I knew they were rich but I didn’t know they were that rich.” He said after observing art piece after art piece that he knows isn’t locally made.

“Yeah, they got crazy money.” She said, and her pace seemed to quicken without her noticing. She hustles into the parents room, opening the closet to find a safe. “Shit.” She forgot about the lock. “Where did that bastard put the key?”

Stephanie starts running around the bedroom, pulling open drawers, looking through trinkets, his wife’s jewelry box too – A curse word after every failed attempt.

“Steph?” Will said, worriedly.

“Just give me a second.” She snapped, and left the room. She starts opening the drawers from the tables in the hallway, visibly getting more annoyed with each second. “For fuck sakes–”

“Stephanie!”

“What?!” She slammed it shut, rattling everything that was on. The force and her tone seemed to shock him, and even take a small step back. She grips the table, closing her eyes to calm herself. “Fuck. I just…”

And when she opens them she finds herself staring at the boy she wanted to forget about. It was a picture of him on his swim team, the frame saying: Championship 1981. She just stares at with emotions the youngest Byers couldn’t figure out what they were.

“Steph?” He asked, slowly.

“Yeah?”

“What happened to you and Steve?”

She continues to stare at the photo for another minute before pushing herself to stand. “I think he still keeps that knife in his room.” Was what she muttered before heading in the opposite direction to another room. 

Will could only wonder what really happened to them…

.

.

.

Just as the lights started to flicker.

•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•° 

|| PRESENT ||

Inside the most “fabulous” party of the year, Barb laid back in one of the pool chairs, listening to the terrible music that’s blasting in her ear as her best friend watches her boyfriend slice a hole into a beer can and start drinking it all in one go.

“Is that supposed to impress me?” Nancy asked, as he sat down and lit a cigarette. 

“You’re not?” Steve asked, genuinely surprised. 

“You are a cliche, you do realize that?”

“You are a cliche. What with your– your grades and your band practice.”

“I’m so not in band.”

“Okay, party girl. Why don’t you just, uh, show us how it’s done, then?” He hands her the knife and a can.

“Okay.” She says, all giggly.

“You gotta make a little hole right in–”

“I got it.”

“Yeah, she’s smart, you douche!” Tommy said, as he crushes his own can on his forehead. 

Soon, everyone was chanting “Chug” as Nancy down a whole beer in under thirty seconds. Everyone cheered and laughed, proud at the achievement. 

“Barb, you wanna try?” Nancy asked, holding the blade up.

“What? No. No, I don’t want to. Thanks.” She said, shaking her head. But after a quick back and forth badgering she finally gave in. She rips the items out of the girl’s hand, clearly upset. It wasn’t long before her judgment was clouding her mind and accidentally nicks herself. 

“Whoa, Gnarly.” Tommy said, impressed by the deep cut.

“Are you okay?” Nancy asked, worriedly.

“Yeah.” Barb said, trying to push her away. 

“Barb, you’re bleeding.”

“I’m fine. Where’s your bathroom?”

“Oh, it’s– Steve stands up, and starts taking her over to the sliding door. “It’s, uh, down past the kitchen, to the left.” He frowns. Shit of course.

But before he could say anything, Tommy had pushed Carol into the pool and then jumped in after her. Steve then shrugs, and lets a smirk play on his face as he does the same to Nancy before doing a cannonball.

•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°

|| NOW ||

Steph tries to contain herself as she enters his room. It was taking a lot of strength not to just start flipping things over, and tear those stupid pendants off the wall.

Stupid fucking house. Stupid fucking room. Stupid fucking Harrington. She grits her teeth, fighting back the tears in her eyes as she desperately tries to remember where he hid the blade.

She lets out a groan. “For fuck sake’s, man! Where did you put it?!” She yells, and kicks whatever was near her. She swears something must have fallen out from it, but she doesn’t even want to look. 

God damn you, Harrington. She scolds, and rubs her face. How can he–

That’s when the light in his room flickered on and off scaring her half to death. “What the–”

“Stephanie!” Will’s voice shouted, kicking her into high gear.

“Fuck.” She mumbles, and races to find that blade.

•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°

|| PRESENT || 

As soon as Barb comes out of the bathroom, she immediately spots a certain someone heading up the stairs. “Nance! Nancy.” She shouts, getting her to stop. “Where are you going?”

“Nowhere. Just… upstairs. To change. I… fell in the pool.” Nancy said, feeling like she was on cloud nine. “Why don’t you go ahead and go home. I’ll just… I’ll get a ride or something.”

“Nance–”

“Barb, I’m fine.”

“This isn’t you.”

“I’m fine. Just go ahead and go home, okay?” 

And then Nancy leaves her all alone, confused and heartbroken by her friend’s actions. But despite being hurt, she couldn’t just up and leave her drunken buddy like this. So… 

She decides to wait.

Meanwhile, upstairs, Steve had found her some clothes she could change in, and he was grinning like a kid upon the thought of seeing his girlfriend in his clothes. 

I’m such a dork. He tells himself as she calls out his name. “Yeah?” There was a look in her eyes that he’s never seen before, and honestly was turned on by it.

But ‘Fuck that’, says the universe, and the home phone starts to ring.

He groans, irritated. “Hang on a second–” He proceeds to run out of the room, and shouts, “Hey! Turn the music down in case it’s my parents.”

Nancy chuckles, cheeks flush because she was ready to lose her– wait. Did something just touch her leg? She looks down to find that a box was tipped over and had opened, and wonders when that happened. Did she accidently kick it without realizing? Or was it already like that? Frankly, curiosity got the best of her as she crouched down to try to fix it. But then, her actions slowed when she saw something.

The Wheeler picks up a paper – a flier – to her surprise was the missing poster of Stephanie Henderson. 

“What?” She says, quietly, confusedly. Why was he keeping this? And that’s when she puts two and two together. She starts shifting through the small pile which was made up of photos, movie tickets, receipts from a record store, arcade tokens and– “Oh, my god.”

Suddenly, Steve comes jogging back in, relief on his face. “False alarm. It was just–”

“So who is she to you?” Nancy asked, standing up and flashing the memorabilia at him.

His face falls immediately. “Hey, that’s–”

“Is she the person that was rumored you pushed away?”

“It’s nothing.” Steve replies, trying to take the stuff away from her, but she ain’t budging.

“It’s nothing, or she’s nothing?”

“It’s– W-What? You jealous?” He asked, trying to play this thing off cool, but his girlfriend wasn’t stupid.

“I’m not jealous. I’m just curious.” Nancy replies, honestly. She takes another look at the photos in her hand before looking back at him. “I mean, if she isn’t your friend anymore, then why do you hang on to all this stuff? Or better question–”

“Nancy, stop, it’s just–”

“Why did you break it off?”

His brain short circuits again. “What?”

“I said, ‘Why did you break it off?’ I mean…” She flips through some of the photos he has, memorized. “From what I see, you two remind me of Barb and I. You two look like you were tied at the hip. So why break it off?”

“I…” Why couldn’t he fucking talk all of a sudden? “I didn’t, I–”

“So, she broke it off?” She said, eyebrow raised. 

“No. I-I broke it off, she didn’t do anything–”

“So… why did you?”

“Nancy–”

“Look, I just want to understand you. I mean, every time I think I have you figured out you throw me through a loop.” She gives him a reassuring look as she picks up the box, shuffling whatever was remaining around. “I mean, from what I see, you seem like a completely different person then. I just wonder if it’s a good thing or a bad–” 

Now it was her turn to look lost (and for Steve to lose all the color in his face). She frowns, slowly pulling out a small casing. “Is this a… bullet?”

“That’s nothing!” He manages to snag at least that away.

“Why do you have a bullet in the box?!” She asks, eyes blown wide.

He swallows. “Nancy–”

“Did you shoot her or something?”

“What?!” He scoffs. “No! Why would I shoot her?!”

“Well did she shoot you?”

“No! Nobody shot anybody, it was just–”

“Then why do you have a stray bullet cas–”

“‘CAUSE IT WAS MY FAULT!! OKAY?!” Steve snaps, startling them both (He can’t believe he just lost his cool like that). He swallows again, head spinning at the memories (Why did he fucking leave the box right there?). “I just… there was an incident and… it… shaped my decision, okay? But it didn’t involve me or her with a gun, it was… s-someone else. Someone I know. I don’t know why I’m holding onto it, I…” He sighs and grabs the box, holding it out for her to put the stuff away.

It takes her a moment to process it all, and she does put all the stuff in her hands away, but she remains silent the whole time. She’s never seen him act this way before.

It honestly concerned her.

Nancy breaks eye contact, and only reverses it when she gathers the right words. “Look, Steve, I’m sorry I intruded, I probably shouldn’t have but… I’m just trying to understand you.”

Steve shakes his head, still confused. “I-I…” He shrugs, and crosses his arms defensibly. “What’s there to understand?”

Nancy gestures to him and says, “Well, for starters, you’re an airhead and–”

“So?” He cuts in, as she holds her tongue and continues. 

“And you’re arrogant, snarky, and sweet–”

“Sweet’s fine.”

“Of course. Sweet’s fine. I love how nice you are to me, Steve.” She then frowns for him. “However, that gets overshadowed by your… insecurities.”

He pauses, now it was his turn to take in those words (What the hell did she mean by that? He’s not… no). “I don’t… I don’t have any… any–”

“Steve.” Nancy takes a step closer. “I don’t know why the kid in these pictures decided to change into the one I’m seeing before me, but if that doesn’t have to do with any insecurities, then I’m not sure why you decided to make that change willingly.”

“I… W-Willingly?” He scoffs again. “What do you mean? I never change willingly? What are you even getting at, Nance?” He hasn’t changed. He’s never changed. What is she even getting at?

But Nancy looked at him with eyes full of pity and took another step closer. “I don’t know what the reason was for you two to stop being friends, but all I know, from what I gathered, she wasn’t the one to end it.” She places Steph’s flier on his chest that he subconsciously grabbed, and said one last thing before leaving his room. And that was,

“Maybe there was a good reason for you to end it, but that’s not an excuse for you to stop being who you really are.”

And Steve’s left with an epiphany he’s not sure he can decipher. 

•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°

|| NOW || 

As soon as the lock was broken, she retrieved the gun from the safe and frantically told her companion to get down the stairs. Will and Steph’s hearts were in their ears, and it sped up when the light above the front door flickered.

“Shit–” She pulls the boy to a halt, and redirects them to the back door. “Go, go, go, go, go.” 

She throws open the sliding door, and out into the backyard, but as soon as they step foot onto the ground, the lights around the empty pool start to flicker. The two of them stopped immediately and held their breaths. They weren’t sure where the beast was at, but it was definitely nearby ready to snatch them up.

They were afraid to even breathe or twitch. What if this thing really does appear out of thin air?

They both jolted when a loud growl came from somewhere inside the pool. Wasting no time, Steph taps Will on the arm and makes a shushing gesture, then waves him to follow her. The boy understood completely, and the two of them move slowly, so carefully that there’s not way–

The both of them screamed when two human hands grabbed onto the top of the pool ladder. 

A girl’s head poked up, face battered and covered in grime, her glasses shattered and splattered with blood. The girl looked so fam–

“Nancy!!” She shouts, as something growls behind her, scaring all of them to their core. And when her eyes landed on the two of them, she desperately yelled for help just seconds before the beast’s claws wrapped around her head and pulled her back. 

Will and Steph matched the girl’s scream, and the beast roared in delight that his prey was just right in front of it. Its claws could be seen grabbing the ladder, like it was trying to crawl out and feast.

That’s when the two of them booked it. 

The guns rattled in their hands.

The tears in their eyes.

Whatever this place was, they knew…

.

.

.

This couldn’t get compared to hell itself.

(TBC)

-Taglist is Open-

@ladygrey03 @poppet05 @tooearlyforthis @lovesfics @lordzzz

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[supercriminalbean]

Fight Club. Part four.

Aaron Hotchner x Male!Reader.

Part: One. Two. Three.

Summary: The team finally gets a lead on location but has to much damage to you already happened? Are they going to find you alive, will you survive the curl thing called life.

Warning: Dark fic. Blood, fighting, death, killing, abuse, kidnapping, swearing, drugs, unsub violence, angst, murder, criminal minds unsub violenceness. This whole fic series is just dark and strange the ask it self is amazing and may help you know if this is something you can handle. (Any other warnings let me know xx)

Words: 6.4k

A/N: I AM SO SORRY FOR THE DELAY. But hey here you go, part 5 will be posted in a few weeks and it will be the aboustel last part do enjoy this. Love y'all so much for the support and love.

Three more days go by, everyday there is a new livestream. You look worse and worse each time, the light in your eyes drifting away, the hope dying away. You have been forced to fight one more time, and it

ended the same way. You gave the poor boy mercy in the final moments of the fight only for him to end his life. You did everything you could to get him to stop but nothing you did made him turn the knife onto you, so you laid on the ground once more holding the young boy in your arms as he bleeded out. On the days you wouldn’t fight he would come in and take his anger out on you, trying out some new knives he had, your body is nothing but a meat sack covered in bruises and scars. You grew tired, no longer fighting against him, the sas has long left you as you wait for the impending end. 

~~~

Aaron paces the room as his mind spiralling, it's been over four days since they took you, and concentrating is getting harder with each minute passing. The team got a new lead this morning, Garcia, Reid and Morgan are sitting in the other room going through the geographic profile once more, while the rest of them map out what the next moves of the unsub could be. So far deadends keep being hit but new hope has been lit inside the team, everyone seems to be pushing through the fear of losing you, everyone but Aaron. The door flies open, making everyone's head shoot up as Morgan and Garcia stand there looking shocked. 

“We got the location, we got him” Garcia gasps breathless as she sprints into the room carrying her laptop, quickly followed by Morgan and Reid.

“What, you're sure?” JJ eyes brighten up, leaping into action.

“Positive, three hours south from here there's an abandoned underground gymnasium that has a huge pool, there's only two entrances into it” Garcia speaks quickly, Reid lays down the map, pointing it out.

“Also its a 7 hour drive from where they found (Y/n) many years ago, he could have ran from there” Reid adds.

“Let's go then” Hotch orders, and in a split second the team is sprinting out of the room.

~~~

Your energy is gone, you don’t care about staying alert anymore, when you're alone all you do is sleep. Your mind's way of escaping as your body works on healing itself. Someone yanks your head back, waking you up, a quiet noise of pain slips through your lips. 

“Morning sunshine” He laughs as he walks in front of you, his sickening smile is one thing you will never get used to. 

“What now?” sighing softly, as you stare up at him, as he kneels down staring at you with interest. 

“It's time for another fight sweetboy” His chuckles grow louder when you don't react. He’s done it, he’s broken you, there is no strength of fight left inside of you any more.

“Fine, where is he?” You groan softly as he unties your hands, giving you time to stretch, rubbing your sore wrist. 

“He’s coming” He smirks at you before removing your chair, and climbing out of the pool, setting up the camera and lights before the door opens.

“Ah Victor, you’re here” He grins at you as your face falls.

“Yes sir” A dark cold voice response, before walking closer making himself visible. He’s grown, he’s bigger than you now, a lot stronger by the looks of it too. His eyes are dead and when he glances at you, there is no look of recognition as he meets your eyes. The boy you once knew is gone, and that's your fault.

“Are you ready, Jupiter?” Ma’am giggles, your eyes glance at her, not even nothing beside Ryan before.

“I’m not fighting him” You shake your head at them.

“Making it easy for me” He smirks darkly at you before jumping down into the pool, his eyes never leaving yours. 

“Ryan you don’t have to do this” You try to reason with him, staying still.

“That's not my name” He hisses at you, his eyes narrowing. 

“It used to be, do you remember me?” You take a deep breath stepping forward.

“No, I don’t” He scoffs, he slams his eyes shut before reopening them with new rage.

“I bet you do, and you don’t want anything to do with those memories because I hurt you when I left you, Ryan” You speak calmly but firmly keeping eye contact with him.

“Bullcrap, I don’t fucking know you!” He snaps at you, his body lunging towards you, you dodge him. 

“Don’t hide from me” His smirk darkness as he watches your slow movements, focusing on your limp. 

“Why not, you're analysing me because I’m slow because I'm injured and that's the only way you can beat me” You smirk back at him, knowing his techniques, having discovered them together. 

“Oh I could beat your ass easily” He chuckles, advancing on you.

“Lies Ryan lies” You smile at him, watching as a small light appears in his eyes for two seconds. Two seconds of hope then suddenly, he’s got you. A few quick hits in your face and chest to disorientate you, blood drips from your mouth as he eases up for a moment and then you can hear his yells.

“I don’t know you, I don't know Ryan!” He screams as he goes back to using you as a punching bag. You manage to get your leg out, tripping him over as you gasp for air, climbing on top of him, doing your best to pin his arms down. 

“You do know Ryan, It's you, and I’m (Y/n), come on man we used to be best friends” You argue, watching as anger flares into his eyes.

“I don’t fucking know you” He snarls at you, and in one quick movement, he flips you both over, winding you. His hands wrap around your throat, pressing down hard as you struggle to breath, forgetting all your training. You try your hardest to find words to speak but nothing can get past your lips, soon everything starts growing darker. 

“Forgive you” You cough up, it's barely loud enough as you give up fighting. What is there to fight for anyway, no ones coming to save you anyway. Soon darkness overcomes you and you feel yourself floating.

~~~

It's cold, a cold feeling on your cheeks as fresh air fills your lungs. You gasp, your body shooting up, pushing the coldness away from you, blinking rapidly as your eyes adjust to the dark room. 

“(Y/n), (Y/n), It’s okay it’s just us, It’s JJ” A firm but calming voice calls to you, before something soft touches your shoulder. Your head spins around, your eyes landing on her, a weak smile crawls onto your face, before falling away.

“I..I'm dead aren’t I?” Yours words are barely audible as you stare at her, the new hope fading away. 

“No, you're alive, we got you” She smiles softly at you, rubbing your back gently.

“Y you came for me?” Your voice wobbles as tears start filling your eyes, a sob begging to escape.

“Of course we did kiddo” Another voice speaks beside you, moving your head slowly you spot Dave kneeling down beside you, wrapping his arm around you which you lean into.

“Th thank you” A sob leaves you as you reach a hand out to JJ, taking her hand in yours earning a soft sadden smile from her. 

“Always, we are family” She smiles at you before helping you up. You lean on them both for support, before your eyes scan the room, stopping on the body just a few feet from you.

“Ryan…” Your heart breaks as you stare at him, and the blood pooling underneath him.

“I’m sorry (Y/n)” Dave's soft voice pulls your attention to him and his guilt filled eyes. You can’t focus on that now, you just can’t, you give him a quick nod.

“Let's get the hell out of here” Gulping thickly as you let them lead you to the side of the pool, taking your time.

“Rossi, you got him?” A loud voice calls from the doorway before four agents make their way inside the room.

“Yeah Morgan we got him” Rossi calls back, beckoning him over. Morgan and Prentiss quickly make their way over, smiles of reliefs flooding their faces as their eyes set on you. 

“You are a site for sore eyes” Morgan chuckles softly, holding out a hand as you try to climb out, him and Prentiss grabbing your arm gently pulling you up. 

“Good to see you too, Morgan” Smiling weakly, leaning into him as Prentiss helps pull the other two up. His arm wraps around you as you use him for support, resting your head on his arm, earning a few back rubs from him. 

“Hey, your boss is calling for backup there's more kids than they thought” One of the swat agents speaks up, his hand on his comas. 

“Go, we’ll get him out of here” Rossi orders, nodding at Morgan and Prentiss. 

“I can get myself out, go help Hotch” You wince a little, pulling away from Morgan's support. 

“Not tonight (Y/n)” JJ smiles before wrapping her arm around you once more.

“We’ll see you on top” Prentiss smiles, squeezing your hand before following Morgan and the other agents out.

“You two should go help, I got this” You look down as you speak.

“No kiddo, we aren’t leaving you” Rossi smiles, before taking your arm, helping support you.

“We are never leaving you, ever” JJ chimes in, smiling sadly at you. You smile weakly at them before nodding.

“Then let's get the hell out of here” You declare, a small chuckle leaving you as you let them lead you out.

~~~

You never thought cold air would feel this good, you shiver uncontrollably as you sit on the back of the ambulance, watching your team and swat bring the boys up out of that hell. The normally empty field is filled with flashing lights from police cars and ambulances, your eyes scan the area as you wait for the two members of your team still yet to appear from down below. 

“We saved those boys, we saved them!” Her screeching voice causes your eyes to flash over, spotting her in the custody of Morgan. Your eyes meet his and they are filled with anger and hatred, he smiles forcefully at you. Followed behind them is the man you hate the most, he stays quite his eyes scanning the area, stopping once he sees you a gut twisting laugh escapes him as he stares daggers at you.

“You're a waste of talent boy, should have killed you when you were just a kid boy” He screams at you, making Rossi yanking him forwards, his eyes darkening on the man in front of him. You don’t take your eyes off them until you watch them get put in separate police cars and the doors slam closed and their screaming stops. You take a deep breath and the air tastes more clean, a smile pulls at your lips as your eyes meet Rossi, his are filled with sympathy as yours fill with hope. It's over, it's over for good. You turn back to watch the entrance, watching the last few agents walk out, Reid walks out carrying a young boy aged seven in his arms. Your heart breaks as you see the boy cling to Spencer, the tear stained face, but then your heart soars, leaping to your feet as Aaron finally appears. You don’t care about the pain radiating throughout your body as you push your body forward, not caring about the tears sliding down as you focus on him.

“Aaron” You scream out, and he stops spinning around to look at you, his face fills with relief as he walks towards you, faster than his body could take him.

“(Y/n)!” He exclaims, watching as you fall to your knees as you reach him, falling forward into his arms. He lowers you both to the ground gently, his arms wrapped around your body firmly as your body shakes with sobs.

“It's okay, I got you, you're safe now” He strokes your hair as he comforts you, holding you closely. He whispers words of comfort as you cry into his chest, he holds you for a long time allowing you to let it all out. 

You two sit there for a long time, even after all the tears have long dried. 

“Hey we need to get you checked out” Aaron whispers as he runs his hand over your back. 

“Stay with me?” Gulping thickly as you look up at him.

“Always” He smiles, kissing your forehead before taking your hand and pulling you up. “Always” He repeats as he leads you back to the ambulance where Emily and Rossi now wait. 

“You two going up to the hospital?” Emily smiles softly, she can’t help but feel relieved every single time she looks at you.

“Yeah” You nod, leaning into Aaron's arm wrapped around you finding comfort in his touch.

“Good, I texted Garcia she's on her way there now, she's worried about you” Rossi adds, smiling lovingly at you.

“What.. Penelopes here.. Why?” You look up at Aaron confused only to watch his face fall. 

“Because she cares for you, we all do it's why we are here” He smiles softly at you, before helping you into the ambulance, where the EMTs are waiting.

“Oh, right” You gulp a little, before sitting back down, your eyes staying on Aaron as he sits beside you.

~~~

Once you get to the hospital you don’t get time to have a break before you are wheeled straight into having x-rays and other tests. You are away from Aaron for hours, and it hurts they keep prodding you and questioning you, it's exhausting. Finally they take you to room, and you're alone, fear creeps into you as you wait for Aaron, your heart races faster every second you're alone. 

“”Oh my gosh, you're here” She squeals as she runs into the room, her eyes brightening up as she spots you, rushing towards your side being careful not to touch you.

“Penelope” You breathe out, fresh tears sprouting to your eyes as you see the queen of sunshine. “Gosh I missed you” You let out a small whimper as you reach for her hand, her eyes widen before quickly capturing your hand in hers.

“Oh my love, I’m right here” She smiles at you before sitting down, never letting your hand go.

“Where's Aar?” You whisper, feeling groggy from all the drugs.

“He’s talking to the doctor first, sweetie, but that brings us to something” She smiles cheekily at you. “WheN did you start calling him Aar?”

“Before he kissed me” You chuckle softly, closing your eyes as exhaustion starts taking over. You never saw Garcia's mouth fall open, her eyes almost falling out.

“Um Garcia everything okay?” Hotcha asks as he walks in worry filling him instantly.

“Uh yep everything is fine sir” She quickly collects herself, smiling softly as she stands up. “But I should let him rest, you staying here tonight Hotch?”

“I will” Hotch smiles as he notices you still gripping Penelope's hand tightly.

“He's warming up” Penelope comments, glancing down at your hand.

“That he is” He smiles more, moving to your side, sliding his hand over yours, so you can finally let Penelope go.

“So is that why you two kiss?” Penelope can’t hold it back anymore as she makes her way to the door. Hotch's head shot up, catching her knowing look, he can’t help but smile back. 

“Goodnight Penelope, keep that to yourself okay” 

“Got it boss” She giggles as she leaves. 

~~~

The next day goes by slowly, they keep taking you away for tests. Checking over your wounds and changing the bandages, it felt exhausting everyone kept asking you questions and dragging you away from Aaron. Why can’t they just let you rest, why can’t you just go home, all you want to do is go home and deal with the aftermath of this case. Finally the nurse wheels you back into your room, leaving you alone, you're not sure how long you have laid on your bed staring at the ceiling for. But the tears keep flooding your eyes as you realise the team now knows your deepest darkest secret, your job is in jeopardy and all you want is Aaron. Aaron to hold you, Aaron to tell you that everything will be okay, you know it's wrong to crave someone like this but you can’t help it. You aren’t ready to lose him, he won’t want you now that he knows how damaged you are, he won’t want you around his son now knowing what a cold blooded killer you used to be. You didn’t realise the machine beside you was beeping away until someone entered the room, making their way towards you urgently.

“(Y/n), you're okay” Aaron sits on the edge of your bed grabbing your hand, your eyes flash towards him. You're hyperventilating, gasping for air as you squeeze his hand, shaking your head as you try to speak.

“I can’t, can’t breath” You whimper softly, his eyes soften as he pulls you into his arms, rubbing your back gently.

“Listen to my heart beat darling, copy me okay” He speaks delicately, his voice as sweet as honey. “Deep breaths, in and hold for three seconds” He takes a deep breath, as you copy him. “And out” He blows out, smiling softly as you copy him. “Just like that darling, and again” He takes a deep breath, listening closely to you, falling silent as you work on your breathing. 

“Thank you” Breathing out slowly, as you glance up at him with a tear stained face.

“Don’t need to thank me” He smiles lightly at you, laying down on your bed, pulling you with him. To his surprise you don’t argue instead you cuddle up to him, entwinding your fingers with his. 

“Do you want to talk about it?” He murmurs, his free hand running through your hair.

“Yes, but not today” Sighing softly as you close your eyes, your mind finally feeling empty.

“That's okay, later then get some rest” He smiles a little as he takes in just how peaceful you look.

“Stay with me?” Your words mumble together as sleep takes you.

“Always” Hotch smiles, kisses your head softly. 

~~~

The doctors finally discharge you and give you permission to fly, so now you and Aaron are on your way to the jet where you're meeting the rest of the team. You haven’t seen anyone since they reduced you, you know they are going to have questions and alot of them, but you don’t want to answer them, you just can’t. You’re staring out the window, lost in thought while Aaron drives, he can’t help but keep glancing at you, worrying about what's going on inside your mind.

“You want to talk about it?” Aaron asks, his eyes focusing on the road.

“The team is going to have questions” Sighing as you rest your head on the window, watching the world go by.

“They will, but you don’t have to answer them tonight” He replies, before adding. “They will wait as long as you need”

“What about Chief Strauss?” Looking over at him, as the anxiety of her questing and debriefing fills you. 

“We will have to face that tomorrow morning” Aaron does everything in his power to keep his eyes on the road and not look at you, he doesn’t want to see that broken look in your eyes, because he knows if he does you two won’t make it to the jet. 

“We?” Your voice is lower, he can barely hear you but he does.

“Yes we, Im not letting you face her alone, whatever happens we will deal with it together” He gives you a small confident filled smile.

“Thank you” You return that smile lightly, but it doesn’t meet your eyes, other things playing on our mind.

“What else is going on inside your mind tonight?” 

“I…It’s nothing” Shaking your head as you look back outside.

“Whatever it is, I can help”

“Even if it's stupid?”

“Yes even then” Aaron chuckles softly, earning a small laugh from you. 

“I don’t want to be alone tonight, normally I love it but the thought of going back to my apartment tonight, it's unsettling…” You struggle to find the words, ending up playing with your fingers as you speak. His hand reaches out capturing your hand with his, a smile slipping onto your lips as his fingers linking in with yours.

“You can stay with me tonight, whenever you like to” Aaron's voice is soft as he pulls up to the runway.

“Thank you Aar”

~~~

The flight goes by quickly, you and Aaron get there before the rest of the team so you drag him to the couch, settling in and accidentally falling asleep with your head resting against Aaron's chest before the rest of the team arrives. You somehow woke up halfway through the flight, the rest of the team also asleep, Aaron deep asleep with his arm wrapped firmly around you. You can’t help but smile, feeling safe in his embrace as you scan the jet, seeing the team all spread out sleeping and a guilty feeling starts to eat at you. How could you ever think they would leave you there, how could you think that hiding your past from them was a smart idea when things started turning south feels wrong now. But that's behind you now, and it may seem silly but you feel so much closer with them all, and knowing that you have to answer all their questions is something you no longer dread. Smiling to yourself as you snuggle back down, falling back asleep in Aarons arms, knowing at one point you’ll have to deal with the way your heart throbs with his touch. 

“(Y/n) wake up” His voice is soft as he rubs your arm, trying to get you to wake up. Grumbling softly as your eyes slowly open, groaning quietly as your eyes adjust to the lighting, the jet is so bright but soon your eyes fall on Aaron, smiling sleepily at him.

“Hi” Yawning softly as you sit up, stretching a little. 

“Sleep well there?” Derek smirks, sitting opposite you there. 

“Like a peach” Chuckling softly as you see the team sitting opposite you.

“Sorry, we are about to land” Aaron smiles apologetically as you stiff back another yawn.

“Its fine”

“Here, It's also time for your meds” JJ adds, passing you over a bottle of water and your pills.

“Oh right, thanks JJ” You smile politely before taking them, swallowing down the pills and the water. You can feel the team's eyes on you, and the guilty feeling re enters you, slowly you pull the bottle away meeting the eyes of your team.

“Look I know you guys have questions—” You start, suddenly feeling defensive.

“We just want to know if you're okay?” Emily speaks, her eyes filled with concern that when you realise they don’t care about what you did, their looks are ones full of worry and concern a new feeling fills your chest. A small smile filled with love and affection fills your face as you think over your answer. 

“Honestly no I'm not, I got a lot of healing to do a lot of things to work through, but give me time and I’ll be okay” You lean into Aaron as you answer, smiling a little.

“If you ever need anything, we are right here okay” Morgan smiles kindly at you.

“Just give me time and patience” You smile back at him, enjoying the way Aaron rubs your back in comfort.

“We can do that,” Rossi nods, giving you a light smile.

“Are you going to be okay at home, I know you don’t have a bed and its not good for you to rest up only on a couch” Reid adds in, staring at you with concern.

“You don’t have a bed?” JJ eyes almost fall out, giving you her best mum look, causing you to feel sheepish.

“Um no but i’ll be fine”

“Bullshoot, you will stay with me. I have a spare room” Garcia speaks up staring at you firmly, daring you to argue with her.

“Um I appreciate that, but I don’t need to”

“You are not sleeping on a couch” Emily shakes her head. “Its either my place or pens so pick”

“Look I appreciate it but I already have a place to stay” You smile shyly at them.

“Wait you have other friends” Morgan gasps dramatically. “Who?”

“Me” Aaron laughs at the shocked faces of the team, everyone but Rossi and Garcia. 

“Huh, fine, can't argue with bossman then” Garcia smirks, looking away.

“That's settled then” Aaron smiles, before picking up his phone. “It's Strauss, she says we get the next few days off” Aaron smiles as his team cheers quietly. 

“Does that mean we did a great job, or are we in trouble?” Rossi jokes, turning to Aaron.

“Both” Aaron half jokes, glancing down at you, feeling you tenses up. 

~~~

ONE MONTH LATER.

You hadn’t seen the team since they all had dinner at Dave's house a few days after they got you back. It was a small celebration, you opened up them just a little bit, you all grew closer that night. Sadly the day you got back you were suspended pending an investigation, you talked with Strauss and she told you there wasn’t much she could do, because it was all out of her hands, but it didn’t matter to you because you had a plan. Today you finally found out what the decision is, and so after your meeting you head down to the BAU floor. Yes the team is out of town on a case, but luckily they are on their way home tonight and Dave is throwing another dinner tonight to celebrate the good news of yours. So you make your way to the one person you can’t wait to see anyway, because four weeks without seeing her beautiful smile is too long, you knock lightly on her door. 

“Come in” She calls out, her voice full of happiness.

“Good afternoon Penelope” You smile as you push her door open, she gasps while spinning around in her chair, smiling up at you with excitement. 

“It's youuu, you have come to see me” She exclaims, grinning up at you, climbing to her feet, holding out her hand for a small high five. It's your guys' small ways of saying hey, but instead you dismiss her hand, and pull her into a small hug.

“I missed you” Smiling softly as you feel her freeze only for her to quickly hug you back giving you a small squeeze. Penelope swears her face is going to fall off with how much she is smiling right now, she never imagined you would ever give her a hug and she can’t help but enjoy it. Closing her eyes as she soaks it in, holding herself back with the way she wants to squeeze you tightly. 

“You're hugging me” She giggles, dancing just a little before you pull away, a big smile across your own face.

“That was okay, right?” Your smile falters a little as you double check with her.

“You can hug me whenever you like my love” She grins more. “But um what brought that on?”

“Well I want to be less scared of physical touch so I thought what better way to start working on it to give in and give a hug to someone I’ve been dying to” You shrug your shoulder, trying to act like its no big deal as your body tingles with the feeling of someone's else touch.

“That's a big step, I'm proud of you” Penelope smiles more at you, her heart soaring at the look of the new you. She knows she only saw you two weeks ago but you have changed even the energy around you. You cut your hair, it's more short now, and you look like you glow, there's a shine behind your eyes. You’re clearly sleeping more and eating regularly, looking after yourself is finally starting to sink in for you and she couldn’t be more proud. 

“Thanks pen” Smiling back at her.

“So how did your meeting go?” she sits back down, as you grab her spare seat.

“It went really well, I can’t wait to tell everyone tonight at Dave's” You smile, enjoying her presents, soon you two just start catching up on everything that has been happening.

~~~

A soft knock on the door indicates that Aaron is here, smiling as you grab your phone making your way towards the door, opening it quickly glad to see both your boys there.

“Hi (Y/n)” Jack grins up at you, you can’t help but smile back as you bend down to give him a quick hug.

“Hey kiddo, oh I’ve missed you”

“You saw him the other day” Aaron teases as you pull away, smirking as you turn to him.

“What, is that your way of saying you didn’t miss me, Hotchner?” Smirking lightly as you tease him, enjoying the way he pulls you into a hug.

“Never” He chuckles softly, kissing your cheek lightly, sliding his hand into yours as he pulls away.

“Lets gooo, I wanna see Henry” Jack giggles as he leads you both down the hallway. You can’t help but laugh at him, he definitely does have his Dad's patience. 

“We coming Jack” Smiling over at Aaron as you follow the boy closely.

“So the meeting with Strauss, how did it go?” Aaron asks you, glancing at you, his concern with how quiet you have been this afternoon growing. You were meant to text him, but he never heard from you.

“It went great, I’m no longer under investigation and i’m all clear to return” You smile slides away as you reach the car, Jack gets in leaving you two outside to talk freely.

“Are you still doing what we talked about?” Aaron speaks softly, his hand rubbing your arm softly as you lean against the car.

“I think It’s time Aaron, it's just going to be hard” You can’t help but sigh heavily as you lean into his touch. 

“I know, but you need to do what's best for you and I will be right here beside you every step of the way” Aaron declares, smiling lovingly at you.

“I know, thank you and I mean it Aaron. You have been my rock the past few weeks” Smiling up at him.

“It's the least I can do, you need to know how much I care for you” Aaron smiles as he slides his hand gently on to your cheek, cupping your face gently as you lean in giving him a quick kiss.

“I appreciate it, now come on we need to go see our team” Smiling as you pull away from him, biting your lip as you climb into the car.

~~~

“You made it” JJ squeals softly as you walk in, you’re trailing behind Aaron and Jack. Jack is quick to run outside where Henry and half the team is. 

“I did” Smiling lighty you walk over to her, Emily and Reid. 

“How have you been?” Reid asks, smiling a little.

“I’m okay, so over resting all the damn time” Laughing softly, your heart melting with the comfort of being surrounded by your family. 

“I remember that feeling, but you have to look after yourself” Emily gives you a stern look before sipping on her drink.

“Im trying” You reason, biting back a groan.

“We know, but we also know you” JJ smiles, a motherly look in her eyes.

“How did your meeting go today anyway, when are you coming back?” Emily presses on to her burning question, the one thing everyone tonight has been dying to now.

“Can we just wait until everyone is around, I don’t feel like repeating myself a million times” Forcing out  a chuckle as you watch the hope and excitement fade out of your three friends eyes.

“That bad huh?” JJ sighs, turning to the others.

“No, no it's not bad” You smile, glancing behind you at the incoming footsteps.

“Here, you don't have a drink yet” Rossi speaks from behind you, turning around smiling up at the man.

“Thanks Rossi” Taking it from him taking a deep breath as your fingers brush over his, glancing up you spot the rest of the team making their way over.  

“So (Y/n), when are you getting your ass back” Derek grins up at you, Penelope and Aaron following him over. 

“That's a complicated question” Sipping on your drink as you go over your answer, grateful to have Aaron coming to stand beside you. You can do anything with him beside you.

“What does that mean?” Penelope's eyes widen, fear entering her at the thought of her family breaking up.

“Look if Erin is giving you a hard time I will talk to her” Rossi automatically defends you, everyone's mind racing.

“No, Strauss isn’t the bad guy here, in fact she has been extremely helpful” Taking a deep breath before you continue. “I’m no longer under investigation, in face I’m welcome to return but I don’t want to, It’s my turn to move on, and look I know I owe you all so much for coming to my rescue, but I can’t do this job anymore I want to do something different with my life now” Your words come out filled with regret and guilt, your eyes full of sorrow as you talk, meeting everyone in your team's eyes. You have never felt closer and further away from them as you do right now, today is the start of a new beginning. 

“You’re leaving us?” Garica's eyes tears up, her heart racing.

“Look, we understand why you want to leave, but is there anything we can say to make you stay?” Emily looks hopelessly at you, but a small proud smile pulls at her lips. 

“Nothing, but hey I’m still going to be working at the FBI just not with the BAU anymore” You sigh, the feeling of sadness squishing your heart.

“I hope you know this doesn’t get you out of team nights still” Derek smiles at you, he knows how hard this decision was for you to make. 

“Oh I know” Laughing softly.

“So what are you going to be doing instead?” Rossi smiles at you, a lovingly proud look in his eyes. 

“I'm going to be the new FBI forensic scientist, so you guys will still have to work with me occasionally” Smiling at them, joy refilling the room.

“Oh, you’re taking over for Mary?” Garcia's face fills with excitement of course, she’s the one who works closely with that team more than the others.

“I am, so you guys can’t get rid of me that easily” The room fills with laughter once more.

“So that means you’re still coming to team nights right?” Reid asks. “You can’t just leave us all”

“Of course I will, plus” Smiling up at Aaron, catching his eyes his own smile grows as he gets the hint, his arm automatically wrapping around your waist as you lean into him. “Plus as your unit chiefs boyfriend I’ll be around more often” Pulling your eyes away from Aaron you glance around at the rest of the team, everyone's faces seem to be a mix of happiness and shock.

“Oh finally” Rossi cheers, laughing at the shocked looks around him.

“Wait, wait what” Morgan's open mouth slowly turns into a grin. “Seriously, you two thats awesome”

“Oh I knew there was something going on, I told you Emily” JJ smirks at Emily, who shakes her head smiling.

“Congrats you two” Emily smiles.

“That's so great, I'm happy for you both,” Reid smiles.

“Um Penelope, you're awfully quiet” You smile over at her, meeting her mischief filled eyes.

“I have been dying for you two too finally admit, I mean after you told me you kissed him months ago I have been waiting” She squeals.

“Wait, I told you, what, when?” Your eyes widen as you rack your brain trying to think.

“At the hospital when you were all drowsy from the medication” Aaron smirks down at you.  

“And you didn’t tell me this, traitor” Smirking at him teasingly as you kiss his cheek, earning a bunch of awws and laughs fill the room as Aaron blushes deeply, which he returns with a stern glare at you. 

The night slowly moves on, all full of laughter and chatter as the team all catches up and demands all the gossip on you and Aaron's relationship. Which you don’t mind at all talking about, happily opening up with your team. The only family you will ever only need by your side.

Tagging thoes that seem interesed or asked: @xweirdo101x @alecmores @yn-addams @winter-world @xdark-acadamiax @rexspersonalhell @hunterispunk @sammy-4103 @222244445555 @spiritzofthedead @sweetnothingsvulnerability @hepbaestus @bunbunbl0gs @mrblue-kai

Happy to untag or tag people let me know.