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#{ we're finally reaching the conclusion! }

harleehazbinfics · 3 months

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"Good morning, Sir!~ I've brought you breakfast! Today's menu is Venison meat cooked rare and a tasteful venison pie! I--.."

Your body freezes when you see Alastor with his back to you when you enter the room. You immediately notice his hair tied up into little ponytail that made your heart squeeze and stop for a few minutes. It was unclear if you we're very smitten by the look or if you were suffering from a heart attack.

"You were saying, (y/n)?" he asks finally facing you with a smug look on his face, enjoying your dumbfounded and flustered look.

(by @bean00ll i love them, i love the art)

"Sir Alastor! You look very dashing as always!" you screamed, eyes automatically shaping into hearts when you see him, gripping on the tray harder for dear life as you were mesmerized by his looks.

He chuckles at your love-struck eyes, softly which only made your knees weak almost buckling under you.

He reaches for your waist first keeping you steady, and then takes the tray in his hands, keeping his eyes on yours. While you kept your hands clasped together respecting your boundaries with him in fear that it would end this wonderful dream. He sits you on a chair while he serves the food on the table thereafter, he sits in front of you summoning a pair of plates and utensils.

"I'm feeling quite generous today, so how about we share a meal together? Just you and I," he says conclusively and seductively which you nodded your head to feverishly.

"Wonderful!"

--- CannibalChef!R list

Taglist: @kimkimmm2411

#hazbin hotel #hazbin alastor #hazbin angel dust #hazbin hotel x reader #hazbin charlie #hazbin lucifer #hazbin husk #alastor x reader #hazbin vaggie #alastor x oc #alastor #alastor hazbin hotel #alastor the radio demon #radio demon #the radio demon #hazbin hotel alastor #cannibal chef reader #harleehazbinfic

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randomshyperson · 4 months

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Heart Drawing - Wanda Maximoff Oneshots

Summary: Dinner with Mr. Heart takes a different turn. Or, what anyone who wasn't a synthezoid would have done at the sight of Wanda in that dress.

Warnings: (+18), purely smut, bottom!Wanda (bratty), rough smut, creampie, strap-on, fingering and oral (w rec), Westview setting, established relationship, kinda semi-public (?), almost getting caught but Wanda keeps doing magic tricks | Words: 1.169k

A/N-> I can't believe I finally wrote this, it's a fixing of the scene from WandaVision because I always thought it was unbelievable. If Wanda prepared a romantic dinner for me, especially wearing that, there would be no dinner at all. A good Wandavision anniversary for all of us btw <3

General Masterlist | Wattpad | AO3

-&-

Although it was one of the skills she developed first, mental control could be very difficult. Especially if Wanda was experiencing some other strong emotion, such as stress, anger, or sadness.

Or physical exertion, like a fight with an alien or lifting machines or the like.

Or just being so close to cumming in the middle of the kitchen.

And you, well, you weren't making it any easier for her. Your hips never faltered in their brutal rhythm against her and every time the fake cock attached to your waist slid between her tight walls, Wanda had the impression that even the magic around the house was failing.

Her eyes were still red, though - Wanda is still surprised that she has any control when you slide your fingers down to tug at her neglected clit and she's forced to muffle her whimper with a bite on your shoulder.

She's sure she won't be able to keep the two guests static in the kitchen if you keep this up. But the soft protest is little more than a choke; "S-slow down, detka" she gasps directly into your ear.

You adjust the angle, and your hips slow down, but god, you thrust hard enough for the kitchen counter to crack. The dress she called a surprise barely hanging on her body is pushed down even further with the rough motions and Wanda won't be surprised if the the magic fails her once and for all with the reach of her orgasm.

She wasn't complaining, after all, this was the whole point of the night. A misunderstanding about a heart drawn on the calendar had led her to believe that tonight would be an anniversary (of which, she and Agnes came to no conclusion, and Wanda preferred to pretend it was supposed to be a wedding one). She got chocolate fruit and a dress that made you ignore your boss in the other room and force her against the counter as soon as you caught the first glimpse of her cleavage.

Wanda tried to be the voice of reason, even if her voice was hoarse and not very determined. She asked you; "What about them?" but all you did was give her a dirty little smile as you unbuttoned your pants.

"Play your tricks, my lovely little witch." That's what you whispered before sliding into her in probably the only gentle thrust of the night, and well, we're back to the beginning.

Wanda being fucked roughly on the counter in the kitchen while trying to keep the two guests in the living room.

She doesn't know, or think she doesn't know, at least not consciously about how that toy ended up inside your pants. She doesn't think about it, nor about when your hips start to buck and how when you come first, she can feel something hot squirting inside her. She can only mew in arousal, feeling your weight fall on her as you return your movements, faster than before making it impossible for her to hold back any longer. Your mouth finds hers again, and you swallow every dirty moan she lets out as she finally reaches her climax a moment later.

The kitchen, perhaps the whole city, shakes with the force of this orgasm. Wanda doesn't notice, but you're kind of mesmerized by the whole thing. She doesn't even realize she has lost control, still panting and soft under your body but you hear footsteps approaching.

It's your powers that keep the kitchen door tightly shut, and Wanda blinks exhaustedly at the knocks.

"I'll tell them dinner's canceled." You murmur, kissing her cheek before pulling out, the act drawing a gasp from the other. Wanda forces her body to react when you make mention of moving away, her legs hooking behind your knees while she gestures in the air with her fingers glowing red.

"They'll find their way on their own." That's what she says before pressing her mouth to yours again. You smiled into the kiss, saving a mental note to comment that you'd probably lose your job for this. But those were problems for later; right now, you were focused on your darling wife moaning on your tongue.

Your kisses descended to her collarbone, marking the skin gently as Wanda struggled to breathe. Your body soon followed the lead, and you ended up on your knees on the kitchen floor with your face between her legs, taking a moment just to admire the image of Wanda's pussy leaking your mixed cum.

Your breathing against her was driving her crazy, she moved her hips forward, one of her hands grabbing a handful of your hair and trying to pull you in, but you fought back. Wanda meowed in protest.

"Please." It didn't sound much like begging, and you raised your eyes to her. Wanda blushed heavily at the image but tried to bait you by moving her free fingers to her own pussy, spreading the wetness before sinking a finger in. She whimpered before teasing; "Come on baby, I know you want a taste."

You bite your tongue, but you can't contain the shuddering of your body and Wanda smiles at you, a finger teasing its way in. You try not to fall for it but she mewls as she pushes her finger further inside and you curse quietly before you take action. Your hand pushes hers away, and you sink your face into her pussy before Wanda can complain; she chokes on a moan, her back arching on the counter as you eat her out in hungry determination. Your hands grip her thighs wide open and Wanda struggles to control the sounds, trying to find some ground as she clutches your hair, but all it serves for is to keep your head in place as she grinds harshly against your face.

She is almost robbed of her orgasm the next moment when there is a knock at the back door. It's she who is startled, failing in her movements towards your face, but you groan in frustration at the interruption and instead of stopping the whole thing, the vibration takes Wanda over the edge, and she has to cover her mouth with her hand to avoid the sound that escapes her as the climax washes over her.

She's still trembling on the counter when you stand up, a mess of cum running down your chin that you wipe off with the back of your hand, which Wanda watches with exhausted eyes as you lick it clean a moment later.

"I'll send her away." You mutter, evidently against your will to get off her. When Wanda mentions protesting, you offer her a wink, your hands busy hiding the toy back in your pants. " We'll carry on upstairs."

She tries to stand up on shaky legs while you answer the back door to the nosy neighbor. By now, Wanda's mind is so dizzy from a good fuck that she doesn't even care if Agnes was able to hear anything.

#wanda maximoff x reader #wanda x reader #elizabeth olsen x reader #wanda maximoff smut #wanda maximoff imagines

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zvaigzdelasas · 3 months

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President Joe Biden “willfully retained and disclosed classified materials after his vice presidency,” according to a final report released Thursday by a Department of Justice special counsel.

But special counsel Robert Hur said he was declining to prosecute Biden over his handling of that material.

The FBI found that material in the garage, offices, and basement den in Biden’s Wilmington, Delaware, home. It included documents about military and foreign policy in Afghanistan, and notebooks containing Biden’s entries about national security, the new report said.

“Our investigation uncovered evidence that President Biden willfully retained and disclosed classified materials after his vice presidency when he was a private citizen,” Hur wrote.

“He knew he kept classified information in notebooks stored in his house and he knew he was not allowed to do so.”

But that evidence “does not establish Mr. Biden’s guilt beyond a reasonable doubt,” the special counsel wrote.

Hur in his nearly 400-page report wrote, “We have also considered that, at trial, Mr. Biden would likely present himself to a jury, as he did during our interview of him, as a sympathetic, well-meaning, elderly man with a poor memory.”

“We conclude that no criminal charges are warranted in this matter,” the report said. [...]

Hur was blunt in detailing lapses in Biden’s memory when he was interviewed for the probe.

“He did not remember when he was vice president, forgetting on the first day of the interview when his term ended (‘if it was 2013 - when did I stop being Vice President?’), and forgetting on the second day of the interview when his term began (‘in 2009, am I still Vice President?’),” the report said.

“He did not remember, even within several years, when his son Beau died. And his memory appeared hazy when describing the Afghanistan debate that was once so important to him,” Hur wrote.

“In a case where the government must prove that Mr. Biden knew he had possession of the classified Afghanistan documents after the vice presidency and chose to keep those documents, knowing he was violating the law, we expect that at trial, his attorneys would emphasize these limitations in his recall,” the special counsel added.

Biden in a statement said, “I was pleased to see they reached the conclusion I believed all along they would reach – that there would be no charges brought in this case and the matter is now closed.”[...]

Trump was charged in June with 37 felonies, including willful retention of national defense information, a violation of the Espionage Act.

Trump had hundreds more classified documents in his possession than Biden did — more than 300 in total, including 102 that were seized during an FBI raid on Trump’s Palm Beach resort home in August 2022. Trump has pleaded not guilty to the charges.

Hur’s report Thursday said that the materials recovered from Biden spanned his career in national office from 1973 when he became a U.S. senator, and through his two terms as vice president under former President Barack Obama from 2009 through early 2017.

Biden during his career “has long seen himself as a historic figure,” and during that time collected papers and artifacts that were connected to “significant issues and events in his career,” the report said.

“He used these materials to write memoirs published in 2007 and 2017, to document his legacy, and to cite as evidence that he was a man of presidential timber,” Hur wrote.

Well we're officially never gonna hear the end of this one huh [8 Feb 24]

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pillarsalt · 3 months

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hi um

I was? transmasc but recently I’ve been seeing a lot of really misogynistic sexist transphobic stuff from trans community and it’s just been totally accepted, even by other transmascs. It’s been going on for a while but recently there was a murder of a nonbinary afab person and yet the whole trans community here has been silent, instead screaming about a transfem user being banned or something? This isn’t the first time an afab trans persons suffering has been dismissed, but now right after this awful death, i see transfems making posts about how transmascs talking about their oppression are terfs.

I didn’t want to think about it but all i could think about was that it was weird how despite everyone claiming trans men have all this privilege, trans women always come first…they get the most representation, they get the fame the admiration and the opportunities, their voices are always the loudest and their problems always always come first no matter what.

But despite popular belief trans men’s issues aren’t actually less significant, in some cases we suffer far more than trans women especially in regard to sexual violence. Yet we are silenced. We are frequently left poor, we are discriminated against for our sex we are discriminated against for being trans we are discriminated against for being perceived as lesbians. Yet we are made to be silent?

Why are our voices less important than trans women’s?

And all I could think about was that this is how females are treated in every other area.

I don’t know what else to say… I tried so hard not to reach that conclusion because I don’t want to be transmysogynist but I kept coming back to it and I couldn’t find an argument against it. This is how females are treated. This is what male privilege look like. And if trans women have male privilege, then why the fuck am I sitting here letting them talk over me?

I just feel really really angry. Your a blog who I liked your art but I blocked you when I discovered you were a radfem, but I sort of had you in the back of my mind for some reason and now I feel lost and confused, and I don’t think I want to be part of the trans community anymore.

Hey anon, firstly I really appreciate your willingness to have an open discussion with me. This must be weighing on you pretty heavily.

Secondly, holy shit, you're right. While the entire website is treating this user's ban as a national travesty, I haven't seen a single person talking about Nex's murder despite how much they claim to care about trans people. That's really fucking low, and this situation does very much encapsulate the state of misogyny within the trans community.

And you're right, this IS how females are treated in every other area. Throughout history, the suffering and injustice women face is minimized, laughed at, ignored, and when we want to talk about it, we're shut down and told we're making people uncomfortable and our pain isn't that bad. And here we are again, with a female person's death outweighed by a male person's inconvenience.

The denial of sex-based oppression that permeates trans spaces is a blatant lie that can only be held together if nobody is allowed to acknowledge it, and those who do are punished. If the trans community truly stood behind what they say, discussion would be encouraged! The foundation of their movement would be backed up with facts and replicable science! But instead, they'll call you a bigot for pointing out systems of oppression you can see with your own eyes. Because if you do, transwomen's position as Most Oppressed, and therefore the final authority on what's right and wrong, collapses. You are correct when you say that it seems like transwomen always come first; I don't remember who said it first, but just look at magazine covers featuring trans people -- the transwomen are fully clothed CEOs, athletes, movie stars, but transmen mostly get on magazine covers for... being pregnant and half naked. Misogyny is built into every society on earth, and individuals simply calling themselves something else doesn't change that. And when you give male people free reign to be as misogynistic as they want without consequence, they'll grab that opportunity and hold on like their lives depend on it. The way they weaponize transmen's sex against them is indistinguishable from what 'cis' men do to 'cis' women, but if you ever speak out about it, somehow YOU'RE the one hurting THEM. They do not want transmascs to find solidarity with other female people, because then they would have to face the reality of their own place in a patriarchal world, and face the fact that there are experiences exclusive to female people and that we have the right to speak about it. I mean you see shit like this and the motives become completely transparent:

I do find it funny how hard the trans community and their allies work to prevent anyone from hearing what radfems have to say in case they "corrupt" you with mere words. A lot of the time, it's simply listening to transwomen themselves that sparks the feeling of "something's not right here" in your brain. That's what happened with me too. I'll tell you that most of us also used to be proponents of trans activism, many formerly identifying as trans too. You are seeing through manipulation, and I know it's quite shocking to realize. Even when I first started having doubts about trans rhetoric, I thought "well everyone else agrees about this, so I need to shut up and be nice about it even if I don't agree." It's an unpleasant place to be in. The cognitive dissonance is exhausting though, and it becomes impossible to ignore.

The mistreatment of transmasc people in the trans community by transfems is brutal, and It's hard to watch from the outside because I just want to say "Hey, you know you don't have to take this shit, right?" And you really don't. You are not at all a bad person for recognizing the frankly absurd amount of misogyny in the trans community. Feeling lost and confused is shitty, but it's normal for this situation. The best thing you can do is keep observing, keep reading, form your own opinions, and never let anyone tell you to shut up. Above all, prioritize yourself and your mental wellbeing. If you need to remove yourself from gender-related spaces and discussion for a while, that's totally alright. Just know you're not evil or a bigot for not blindly agreeing with everything the trans community has told you. Your opinions and experiences are worthwhile too.

#also i'm glad you like my art :) thank you #ask

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mirrrorballs · 8 months

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swear to be overdramatic and true to my, lover.

pairing / opla!roronoa zoro x gn!reader

warnings / nothing much just an established relationship, tooth-rotting fluff, the normal couple banter, and a first kiss trope that makes me all mush.

synopsis / as the straw hat crew docks at an island, everyone decides to give the place a little tour. as you and zoro are strolling around the area, you stumble across an old photobooth. after a bit of banter, stolen glances, and subconscious smiles, a first kiss ensues.

author's note / OPLA ZORO IS MY NEW FIXATION AHH this prompt just popped into my head last night and it was too cute to not put into writing. so here it is!!

The sun was painted a gorgeous shade of orange as the straw hats finally docked on a new island.

"Alright, crew!" their captain's cheery voice boomed as he clasped his two hands together, calling everyone's attention. "Sanji and I will be looking for supplies and ingredients to last us the next few weeks since we're running out. So, take this time to tour around the island for a while." Luffy said with a smile, placing his hands on either sides of his waist.

Nami simply nodded and shrugged, Usopp excitedly jumped from his position by the deck, and Zoro made his way over to you.

Noticing your boyfriend walking towards you, a smile crept up your face as you walked over to meet him halfway.

Once you were within arms' reach, Zoro took your hands in his. Turns out the smile you wore was contagious, a similar one appeared on his face as he looked at you intently. Gosh, how this poker-faced and stoic man turned into putty because of you.

"Hi" he said, breaking the moment of comfortable silence you two had. Your smile grew wider. "Hi yourself," you replied, lightly swinging your interlocked hands back and forth.

Zoro tore his gaze away from you for a moment to see that the rest of the crew started going down the ship. He turned his head back to you. "We should probably follow suit." he said, tilting his head to gesture to the people who were now on the dock. You nodded lightly and Zoro took it as his signal to tug you along with him to the stairs, both of you still having a hand connected.

You both strolled around the streets, taking the less crowded paths in order to remain unnoticed. The bounty over the straw hats' heads more than enough of a reminder for you both to remain cautious.

"Where do you think we should go?" you asked as you turned to face Zoro. He turned to you and shrugged. "Anywhere is fine, you choose." he said. I want what you want, he thought but chose to leave it out.

Another comfortable silence consumed you both before a small booth with a velvet blue curtain for an entrance caused you to halt. 'Photobooth', the illuminated sign read.

Zoro realized you weren't by his side anymore and looked back to see you looking at something. He followed your gaze until his eyes landed on the booth.

He walked back towards you. "Oh, no. Yeah, no." he said while shaking his head. You scoffed. "Why not? You said I could choose!" you countered with a slightly offended tone.

"Tiny booth in an almost abandoned looking street. It could be some sort of marine, enemy, or pirate hunter prop with a hidden camera or microphone inside." he said confidently, almost sounding proud of his oh-so-smart conclusion.

This guy can't be serious, you thought. "Zoro, love, the apple of my eye. You know I really do appreciate your input on things, but I really don't think any of the people you mentioned would use a photobooth as a prop. Vicious pirates don't just snap photos for fun. And secondly, we're on a tiny little island that you can barely see on a map, any enemies wouldn't just expect us to be here." you replied, holding back a giggle.

Zoro's eyes widened and he cleared his throat. You were right, but he was far too proud to admit that. So he continued the debate.

"Well, Buggy's ear was in Luffy's hat as a spy mechanism. Something similar could occur." the man replied defensively to which you just raised an eyebrow.

"The photo could fly away and someone could see our faces and recognize us from the wanted posters. Next thing you know we have ships on our tail." he continued but all you did was tilt your head and cross your arms, urging him to go on with his desperate attempt at a debate.

"I don't like having my picture taken." he said as a last resort, ideas for any more replies flying out of his head.

"Okay then, I'll just take photos on my own." you shrugged and started walking towards the booth.

Zoro gulped, torn between his pride and a sweet moment with you. "Fine by me." he choked out.

You rolled your eyes before turning around to face him with a pout.

"Seriously? That didn't work on you?" you huffed. Zoro had to hold back a smile at your childish attitude.

Your boyfriend simply smirked and shrugged. "What can I say? I like to stick with my stand." he said.

You walked forward, only a step or two serving as a divider. Your pout morphed into a grin as you giggled, taking his hands in yours.

"Come on, please? For me? We're always at sea and when we're not we don't have a lot of memories like this together." you said. Gaze shifting from your intertwined hands to his face.

His normally hard gaze softened as your eyes met. The way you always looked at him so lovingly that it made his heart swell it almost feels like it's about to pop out of his chest.

Zoro smiled softly, as he rubbed his thumb against your hand. How could he say no to you?

"If it's that important to you, then I don't see why not." he said. If possible, your smile grew even wider as you threw your arms around his neck and pulled him into a hug.

The action slightly startling the mosshead as he stumbled a few steps back before wrapping his arms around your waist as soon as realization hit that you were hugging him.

"Thank you." you said. Zoro tightened his hug before replying with, "Any time."

You pulled away a moment after and started dragging him towards the booth.

You pushed the blue curtain to the side before stepping inside the rather cramped photobooth and taking a seat. Zoro quickly following the action.

You fumbled through your pocket with furrowed brows in search of a few berry. Holding up the coins in front of you triumphantly a few moments after.

Zoro observed you as you pushed the coins through the slot and pressed the button to start.

The screen on the left side came to life and you could finally see what the camera could. The countdown started.

You turned your head to see Zoro looking rather confused as he stared at the camera with pursed lips and slightly furrowed brows. You smiled at the man next to you.

Snap!

The sound signaled that the first photo was taken, pulling your attention back to the camera. The second countdown started.

You took a quick second to fix yourself for the photo, tucking pieces of hair behind your ear before flashing a picture-ready smile for the camera.

Unbeknownst to you, it was Zoro giving you a look of awe, admiration, and love this time. A small smile visible on his face. You just had that effect on him.

Snap!

The next photo was taken. Zoro turned back to the camera at the sound. The third countdown began.

You let out a contented sigh. You turned to face Zoro with a small grin. "Thank you, again." you said before pressing your lips to his cheek, planting a small kiss.

Snap!

The third photo was shot, and Zoro was grateful the photos would be in black and white because he sure didn't want anyone else seeing his shocked face and flushed cheeks. The last countdown started.

Zoro didn't know what came over him. If it was the atmosphere or the current happening. But he was most definitely sure that whatever the reason was, it circled around you. He wouldn't admit it but the moment was perfect to him. You were perfect.

He just found himself pulling you by the back of your neck and pressing his lips against yours.

The action shocked you for a second. But after a moment you closed your eyes and leaned into the kiss. It was the first one you two shared, and sharing it in this moment couldn't have been more perfect.

Snap!

The last photo was shot, though the sound went unnoticed by the two of you this time. Only pulling away after a few more seconds.

You both stayed like that for a while. Staring deeply into each other's eyes. His hand gripping yours that was placed on your lap. Both you and Zoro smiling at each other like love drunk idiots.

The two of you only snapped back to reality after hearing the sound of the photo strip bring printed outside.

You pulled away from Zoro, swiftly moving to the exterior of the booth in anticipation of seeing the pictures. Zoro followed after you almost immediately.

Once the photo strip was fully printed, you quickly grabbed it as your eyes scanned each picture. A smile graced your lips as your index finger traced every one of them, pausing at the very last one.

"You like it?" Zoro asked. You turned to face him. Like is an understatement, you thought. "I love it." you said softly but whole heartedly.

Zoro couldn't help but give you a hearty grin. You turned your attention back to the photo strip in your hand. "It's a shame we only have one copy." you mumbled, but loud enough for Zoro to hear.

"You're right" he replied, nodding. He took a step closer to you. "Both of us having copies would've been nice." he continued, glancing at the pictures. He smiled at this.

"If you want to keep it, it's fine!" you said cheerfully, holding the strip out for him even though you badly wanted it for yourself.

Zoro laughed at this and pushed your hand back gently.

"I have a better idea. Why don't we recreate it instead?" he said with a grin that you simply mirrored.

And so you did.

julia speaks !

SCREAMINGG these two are so cute. This turned out pretty long, but it's not too shabby hehe. Hope you enjoyed :)!!

#opla!zoro x reader #opla roronoa zoro #opla zoro #zoro x reader #roronoa zoro x reader #opla!roronoa zoro x reader #zoro fluff #roronoa zoro fluff

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kenmakodz · 2 months

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CANDID LOVE ˙✧˖📷

11. i'll see you in court ☆

writing in-between cuts!

hugs are exchanged, and many many "i missed you"'s are exchanged. nobara's hands are shaky as she reaches out to her girlfriend, whom she hasn't seen for quite a few months. while they hug and whisper amongst themselves, yuuji envelopes you into a hug of your own, practically bouncing up and down. his words are jumbled and fast, for someone who doesn't know him, it'd be impossible to keep up. "we missed you so much and i know it hasn't been that long but for us it's felt like forever and we never realized how much we needed you back there and movie nights aren't the same without you and and-" a hand reaches up to his mouth, effectively silencing him. "relax, yuuji. i know you missed me." you smile, softening your words always seems to do the trick when he's bouncing off the walls like that. he gives you another quick hug before backing away, taking a short glance at yuuta before doing so.

... why did he look at me like that?

a small wave and a smile is exchanged between you and megumi, he's never really been one for hugs... or affection by any means.

after eventually wrapping up the dragged out greetings, nobara announces that she will 'drop dead' if she doesn't get something to eat immediately, so you're all headed to the dining hall as your first stop. you will periodically sneak glances at yuuta, who has his hands in his pockets and is seemingly glued to the side of toge. you wished he would walk next to you, give you any attention at all, but you're just friends. you aren't entitled to him. at least, that's the conclusion your brain has come to at this point. instead of your black-haired boy, yuuji is by your side rambling about all the different stops they took on the way here, and how nobara insisted on buying snacks at every single one. this conversation continues at the lunch table, which turns into the two of them pointing fingers at eachother back and forth, and megumi ready to put his head in his hands out of embarrassment.

you laugh, and it almost feels bittersweet for a split second. this feels so comfortable, something you've struggled to feel ever since moving here. of course, you couldn't have found a better group to surround yourself with; you're eternally grateful to your new friends for taking you in. but, nothing will beat the pure happiness that comes with being around the people who know you best. the ones who have seen you at your highest, your lowest, your... weirdest.. (we don't talk about mario kart nights). you may have made amazing friends at your home away from home, but these are your friends, your people. yuuta notices your demeanor, and his anxious gaze softens when he realizes what you're doing.

how can i be acting like this when she's so happy?

hands are placed on your shoulders, and you're (literally) shaken out of your thoughts. "earth to y/nnnn!" yuuji's voice rings through your ears as you fade back into the conversation, and you turn to him with silence, yet a look on your face that speaks volumes. his face brightens, and he retracts his hands, holding them up as an apology. "sorry, sorry, but you've been so dazed! we're about to leave!" your eyes widen, trying to recollect just how long you've been in your head for yet again. "where are we going?" you ask, turning to the rest of the group who starts to snicker at your confusion, when they've been talking about the location for at least five minutes at this point. "nobara wants to go shopping, so we're going to the mall." maki finally says, smiling at you thinking she knows something. you squint at her smugness, but brush it off once the group starts to head out.

i should've sat next to her instead.

after another sigh from maki, and matching pouts from you and nobara, a hand taps on your shoulder. you turn around and are met with yuuta, who pulls you slightly farther away from the two girls starting to bicker over whether or not a weighted sloth plushie is necessary. your hand doesn't leave his, and you look up at him puzzled. "what's wrong?" he just smiles and shakes his head, which confuses you more. "nothing, i just didn't want to tell you i'll buy you one in front of them" when those words leave his mouth, your eyes noticeably light up, and even with your best attempt at hiding it, it doesn't work. pushing him away slightly, you attempt to decline, but he's already dragging you back to where you were and picking one out with you.

"if i pick one with you, it'll belong to both of us"

"will i get shared custody?"

"i'll see you in court."

yuuta seems much more content than he was before after you two picked out a stuffed cat and named it charlie. but, he was very much still on his guard. he doesn't like the way yuuji puts his hands on you so often, and he doesn't like the way you allow it. but, you're not his, who is he to control you?

-> ooooooh boyy yuuta.. this boy has had his eyes on y/n since the moment the friend group arrived. he feels so guilty for being so jealous, but he wishes he was close with you the way you are with them. your actions and the way you carry yourself seem so much more laid back than how you are with him and the rest. he wants you to be that comfortable with him, why now is he realizing that you may have been tense? he thought you liked him, why do things feel weird all of a sudden..? is he too deep in his thoughts?

-> a bit of a timeskip happened! not much, just two days from when we last saw them :3 (i didn’t know how to fill the gap help)

previous, masterlist, next [12. jealousy]

taglist is open! @just-a-girlblogger @moryymor @swissy23 @hvnyacoded @sereniteav @k4romis @jayathelostdragon @h3rmess @olivandeee @lysaray @ari3000dontcare @raechu11 @marifujioka @nyxlai @sonicsolos @saltypuffin1040 @r0ckst4rjk @h8ani @lmaolmaolmao @maya-maya-56 @mittensdun @adrenova @pnkblueberry @morgyyyyyyy @chososwh0r3 @lunecqm @r4veeen @arivsx @levlucs-kiru @mellozhi @sad-darksoul @ichorstainedskin @phoenix-eclipses @h3xi2g0n3 @eternalalmondd @en40p @love-jelly @kaeichi @vianna99 @dreamxiing @satoryaa @0range-juiceee @you-always-made-me-blush

if you are in bold, i am unable to tag you :( and if i forgot to add you, PLEASE YELL AT ME

⤷ © kenmakodz

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thebiscuitlabryinth · 3 months

Text

"...We're two sides of the same coin, aren't we?"

The whispered confession falls clumsily out of Pure Vanilla's mouth, almost dragged out, bitterly sweet and strange on his tongue. The words are addressed to his own stained candy glass visage, spilling tendrils of bright blue light across the Solarium of Unity despite the almost suffocating darkness invading the rest of the space.

He knows this isn't really the Solarium of Unity, and he knows he isn't just speaking to a window. The lurking shadows, thick like molasses and blinking every once in a while, give that away. Even if it didn't, there is a haziness here that exists only in dreams, and a lack of the deep tiredness that has been plaguing him as of late.

"Oh, are you finally ready to admit that?" Sure enough, Shadow Milk Cookie's voice comes from all sides, far too cheerful. The candy glass melts and warps before him, the blues darkening until Shadow Milk stands in his place, far more detailed than the artisan silhouette he replaced. His grin is mocking as he looks down at Pure Vanilla, who cannot help but feel uncomfortable at the sight of their appearances blurring together like that, even though he had been expecting something along those lines. "Too bad though – you can't admit something that's wrong!"

"Huh?" It catches Pure Vanilla by surprise. It had been difficult emotionally, but logically straightforward to admit they were two sides of the same coin. He couldn't imagine how that could be wrong, and acting upon an old habit from his student days, he finds himself frantically unravelling that conclusion in his head again to figure out the issue.

Shadow Milk doesn't give him the chance, tutting as he shakes his head in mock disappointment. "You must have a brain in there, can't you use it?" He laments theatrically, contorting himself into an odd shape against the edge of the window pane. Then, again barreling on before Pure Vanilla can reply, "Look, think of it like this. To say we're two sides of the same coin means that we have similarities, even if we are otherwise opposites. That is true to an extent, but it makes our differences sound way more clear cut than they actually are. It may be easier for you to believe, but we aren't really opposites. That would imply I am not whole, and I can assure you, Soul Jam aside, I am just as I always was!"

Ah, so it's a matter of wording. Pure Vanilla isn't sure why he is entertaining this - no, it's because he doesn't want to give Shadow Milk the satisfaction of turning away from the truth. Even now, Shadow Milk's eyes squint cheekily at him, daring him to try and end the conversation.

"Then... we are made of the same components in a different composition." Pure Vanilla tries, a little frustrated with his own hesitance, but it is difficult to tell how Shadow Milk wants him to answer when he isn't making it blatantly obvious.

"So close!" Shadow Milk sighs dramatically as he snaps his head to the side so sharply it makes Pure Vanilla wince, imagining the cracks that would cause on any other Cookie. "But you're relying on technicalities. It's much simpler than that."

It dawns on Pure Vanilla, then, exactly what Shadow Milk is aiming for, the realisation making his insides crawl. He doesn't have to say it, not really, but he isn't sure what Shadow Milk will do if he doesn't, and he unfortunately doesn't have the ability to wake himself up on command.

So he takes a deep breath, fidgeting with his staff as he says, even less than a whisper yet twice as loud. "We're... We're the same. Is that what you wanted me to say?"

"Ding-ding-ding!" Shadow Milk trills, suddenly reaching through the candy glass to grip the window frame and lurching forward across the threshold, leaving a mess of shattered glass behind his head like a halo. It startles Pure Vanilla, who instinctively shifts his foot back, only to be instantly locked in place as the reaching shadows soldify around his legs, its eyes winking up at him playfully. His grip on his staff tightens, willing it to shed its light, the beginnings of panic stirring within him at the restraint. The staff does, but the shadows seem to eat the light without a problem.

Pure Vanilla is so distracted by the shadows that he doesn't notice Shadow Milk's hands until they grab his face. His heart jumps in alarm, and his eyes dart up to find half of Shadow Milk leaning down out of the window, far too close. He is grinning at him, wide and self-satisfied, and his hands are cold and harsh. "See, I knew you had a working brain! Yes, the right answer is that we are one and the same."

He pinches and pulls at his cheeks, and Pure Vanilla tries to cringe away, tries to manuver his staff between them. It doesn't work, if only because hands emerge from the darkness to anchor his staff too.

"But that isn't true." Pure Vanilla mumbles when he isn't able to wiggle his way out and Shadow Milk still shows no signs of stopping, hoping the argument will make him lose interest in his face. "I admit that there are similarities between us, but we aren't really the same."

Shadow Milk pauses, his grip tightening until it borders on pain, and for a moment, Pure Vanilla thinks he may have miscalculated.

But then Shadow Milk snickers to himself, releasing his face entirely and pulling back, his hands resting lightly over Pure Vanilla's shoulders. The brush of weight keeps Pure Vanilla from relaxing, but it is a bit of added distance, at least.

"Aren't we? Well, you are the biggest liar, so I should have expected you would lie to yourself too." Shadow Milk hums, almost sounding delighted at this turn in conversation. It unnerves Pure Vanilla, because he had assumed his disagreement would annoy him.

Instead, Shadow Milk smirks, his many eyes glinting gleefully at him. "Listen carefully, Vani, because here's the truth." He says, his voice dipping into a wicked purr that seems to shudder through Pure Vanilla's whole body. "All the things you hate that I have done, you have the capability of doing too. After all, you've already used people for your own gain, haven't you?" Shadow Milk leans closer with a condescending lilt to his words, shifting his hands so he can wrap his arms loosely over his shoulders, and Pure Vanilla freezes under the touch. "Oh, I know you think it was necessary, but you still sent those naive, tiny Cookies off to carry out your errands for you, regardless of the dangers. That's only a few steps behind what I've done, you know, making people dance to my tune. The only difference between us is severity and time."

The words sink heavily to Pure Vanilla's stomach, not quite true but not quite not true, and he feels a little lightheaded, fingers twitching against his staff. Maybe it's because of that, or maybe it's because of his discomfort from the close proximity, but he finds himself distracted by the way Shadow Milk is talking. He carries his usual air of showmanship, but it is nowhere near as exaggerated as during his brief takeover of the Faerie Kingdom. With his insistence of specificity, his mention of technicalities, his structured method of explaining things, he almost sounds like a–

"We are the same," Shadow Milk repeats, tilting his head to the side, the glow of his eyes burning holes through Pure Vanilla, "and one day, you'll end up just like me."

A scholar.

That makes sense – at some point, his virtue had been Knowledge, and nobody seeks it out as fervently as a scholar – but it still feels like a surprise. Pure Vanilla had always known that Shadow Milk was different, once, but only in the sense that the fact existed in the back of his mind.

"No rebuttal, hmm? Are you ready to accept that?" Shadow Milk asks smugly, slightly impatient with Pure Vanilla's lack of response, but mostly watching him expectantly, as if waiting for a bomb to go off.

Pure Vanilla has never thought about what Shadow Milk might have been like, before he became like this. There was no reason to even consider it. But now, he can't help but wonder, because while he cannot imagine this chaotic, brutal Beast, this great unknown evil, as anything else – Shadow Milk still carries echoes from a past life that he doesn't seem to notice enough to hide with his lies.

"...If we are the same," Pure Vanilla finally scrapes his thoughts together enough to reply, carefully, "then doesn't that make the opposite possible too? That, one day, you will become like me and return to the light?"

Shadow Milk blinks once, his face falling blank. He blinks again, all of his eyes in quick succession.

And then he throws his head back and laughs, the movement jostling Pure Vanilla in the process with his arms still firmly around his shoulders. It sounds unhinged, ricocheting across the room, but it is openly amused. It makes Pure Vanilla antsy, especially with how it rings in his ears like an explosion from their closeness.

He wonders if Shadow Milk's laugh was different, before everything. It must have been. He wonders what it sounded like, and immediately realises that he's being ridiculous. The realisation that a before exists seems to have opened the floodgates in his mind, and now thoughts of hypotheticals can't help flitting in.

"You say such silly, silly things." Shadow Milk bites out offhandedly as his laughter winds down, the lingering remnants still dancing on his tongue. Without warning, he pulls Pure Vanilla even closer, the darkness that had been keeping him in place swirling and shoving him forward. Pure Vanilla gasps, the sound catching in his throat, and one of his hands fly off his staff to reach for something to steady himself on. It finds an edge of shattered candy glass, flinching back and falling down to scrabble against its smooth, intact surface.

Shadow Milk is giggling at him and Pure Vanilla is mortified, horribly so. They are far, far too close, Shadow Milk's face taking up the near entirety of his vision and their upper bodies almost pressed together. It feels claustrophobic, which should be impossible in such a wide, open space.

Shadow Milk makes matters worse by pressing their foreheads together, the gesture weirdly tender and doing nothing to make Pure Vanilla any calmer. His bright blue eyes look directly through him, dissecting him piece by piece.

"Why don't you cut down the Silver Tree and find out?" Shadow Milk coos, his voice overlapping with the Light of Truth's in a deeply unsettling way. His presence is overwhelming.

Pure Vanilla's eyes flicker downwards to escape his piercing gaze, and finds their chests so close that their Soul Jams are overlapping. Overlapping, and not touching, because Shadow Milk's Soul Jam seems to fizzle out of existence where the other makes contact with it, as if it were an illusion. Behind it is an empty space, black as the abyss. With the way they are lined up now, it is obvious that Pure Vanilla's Soul Jam would fit perfectly into the crevice with a little turning. He knew that already, but it still feels strange to see it.

Pure Vanilla sighs, a long, thin, shuddering sound. "...You didn't truly believe that would work, did you?"

In the edge of his vision, Shadow Milk smiles tauntingly, all teeth, but he doesn't say a word.

And Pure Vanilla wakes up, off kilter, exhausted and oddly cold.

[next]

#sm flirting: hey wanna debate the fluidity of ur identity and morality and have a crisis? wanna make out over it?#if ur confused dw i was confused writing this too. sm strikes me as the type to say the most convulted stuff for funsies #also he is scheming. idk what exactly but he certainly is!!#and poor pv is just along for the ride #pure vanilla cookie #shadow milk cookie #shadowvanilla #vanilla milkshake #echo paradox au #the biscuit library

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mrsnancywheeler · 3 months

Text

the river (4) // finnick odair x f. reader

summary: the Capitol has taken you away from Finnick, the life you've been trying to build together and now he has to fight to get every part of you back

previous chapter/next chapter

masterlist

4.8k words

warnings: angst, fluff, hurt/comfort, talks of trafficking and abuse related to it, aftermath of breakups, mentions of torture, self destructive behavior, mental illness, unedited, no use of y/n, underage drinking, paranoia

𓈒⠀𓂃⠀⠀˖⠀𓇬⠀˖⠀⠀𓂃⠀𓈒

“I'm hurting you, real or not real." It's been days of this, of Finnick trying to bring you back to him. Half the time you were fine, you'd try to go over the past with him, joke, and open up, so he'd do the same. He had to be so careful though, it wasn't clear what exact things would set it off, but you'd get so paranoid about him and the doctors. Occasionally they'd be able to calmly bring you back, ground you back into the firmness of reality. The other times you'd devolve completely, screaming, crying, hysterical, and Finnick would have to step away as you'd get worse when he was close by. It was an exhausting, never-ending cycle, but it was worth trying to get you back.

Today you'd let his chair be by your bed, but now he was scared he'd be forced to retreat. He had to be careful, if he lied you might be able to see it in his face and be convinced he was lying about other things, or he could tell the truth and risk the spiral of guilt. “Real." He knotted his rope, staring down at it for a second.

“I'm sorry, I don't mean to or want to. I'm really sorry." You're crying and he's thinking, oh shit, so early in the morning and now a whole day of what could've been progress will be lost.

He stared at you, trying to portray as much genuine feeling as possible, “I know that, angel, I don't blame you. I could never blame you and have never blamed you." It hurt to be so close yet so far away, he could reach out and touch you, but he knew better. Not like you always told him when you did want him to hold you though, some days you communicated well, but others it was like you forgot that he needed explicit permission to come close. You'd get grumpy when he couldn't just tell you wanted him closer and do as much. Truthfully it was adorable, and it reminded him of the past, but that also made his heart ache. He couldn't just make an inference anymore on the off chance it sent you into a frenzy, so he'd have to sit by and wait.

“You should, I'm so fucked in the head, and you deserve better."

“Well I'm pretty fucked in the head too, sweet girl, and there is no one better." You were hiccuping on your sobs, this could go badly so quickly. “Hey, it's okay, we're okay, why don't you take some deep breaths with me, angel? Look at me, just follow what I do, deep breath in, deep breath out." He urged you to look at him and you did, trying to follow along through the tears until finally you were somewhat calmed down.

“I'm sorry." You sniffled, wiping away stray tears.

“It's okay, sweet girl, we're gonna have a good day today, right?" The last couple had been rough, so strenuous for the both of you. You nodded slowly, “Maybe they'll let us take a walk or eat lunch with everyone else. Would you like that?”

"I don't know.” Your knees curled up into your chest.

"That's okay, we don't have to take that step yet if you don't want to. We can just talk or sleep or I can teach you some knots, and whatever else we can think of.” You shrugged and he had to realize that it could be a good day, but it probably wasn't going to be an easy one. With you in one of your difficult moods that he'd be left to handle. You'd say no even if you wanted something, silently expect him to come to the conclusion himself, and if it had been before the Capitol dug their talons in it would've been fine. He would've teased you about it before giving into your quiet plea for attention and he would've relished it because it meant you wanted comfort instead of only comforting him. Now though he didn't know what you were thinking, he had assumptions but the risk of being wrong was too great. “We have to use our words, angel, and if that's too hard you can write it down."

You said nothing and laid your head down on your knees, shaking it. Finnick shifted in his seat, rubbing his head, he didn't want to be annoyed with you, but it had been bad day after bad just to lead to this. He was exhausted and hated Snow for making him work so hard just to have you back again. “Please, don't be mad at me.” Your voice was so broken and so soft that he regretted even showing any form of annoyance.

"Angel, I'm not mad at you. I just can't help you unless you tell me what you want or need.” You ever so quietly let out a small huff as you laid down instead, staring at the ceiling. At least you weren't screaming until you needed to be sedated, you were just having a hard time communicating your needs. Finnick was sure all you wanted was to be held, in the past that's what it usually had been. “Is this making you feel embarrassed, honey?" Sometimes the switch between trying to push down your own needs for solace had left you like this, difficult to feel like you deserved to be consoled. Now though, he reasoned, it was because you felt like such a burden.

"I don't know what's going on in my head and everything is so conflicting. I just want to be me again so I know what I want, and you know, and I don't know it's too much. And I want to say things, but I can't because I just want people to see me as I was and know." His poor, sweet girl having to fight all the inner turmoil. You felt different, but you weren't. You were just struggling and wanted things to be the same as they had before, he knew that, but he also knew that they couldn't be until there were less breakdowns, less paranoia.

He had to suck it up and just give what he was so sure it was at the risk of another breakdown if he got closer, but the alternative was a different type of breakdown. “Do you want me to lay with you again?” You played with your fingers and nodded, so he slipped in beside you. He knew there was more from the way you looked at him and hoped he wasn't pushing boundaries, that he was right. "Angel, do you want to be held?” You finally smiled just a little bit when you nodded, grateful, and he smiled back,"Come here, sweet girl.” The moment his arms were around you your head snuggled into his chest, it felt perfect, the way you two were meant to be.

"Don't let me go."

“Wouldn't dream of it." He hadn't touched you in so long it was like heaven in his arms again. “You ready to talk now, sweet girl? Wanna tell me what's going on in that pretty little head of yours?"

"I'm sorry I'm so difficult for everyone, I don't know what going on in my head half the time anymore.” Your voice vibrated through his chest and it was so comforting to him.

“You're just trying to get better, it's okay. And you can ask me, angel, you don't have to sit with it in your head and let it eat you up. You can just ask me if it's real.” His fingers traced circles on your shoulder, you were so cold all the time, it made him feel less hot and stuffy

“I'm safe, real or not real?"

“Real." Safe from the arena, the Capitol, the only thing you weren't safe from was yourself.

“Okay." You snuggled yourself further into him, like you trying to let yourself believe it. “When I was in the Capitol…” Finnick's ears perked up,"I'd try so hard to keep myself in reality, and I'd think about that time we took that tiny, crickety rowboat out and you said it would be romantic. So you packed up your fishing rod and we'd been out for a couple of hours when it was probably time to row back. So I said I'd take one of the oars-”

"Because you insisted I deserved to rest since it was so hot and I'd rowed us out, which I wasn't, but you gave me that cute little pout so I let you have one.” Of course he remembered this, even if three years ago felt like an eternity.

"You were tired!”

"That's subjective.” You scoffed, but he could hear you smiling.

“Anyways, right after you give me the oar you started kissing me-"

“You just look so cute when you pout like that and you were shining in the sun, like an angel, I had to."

"But you distracted me and I got so caught up in it because you were being an ass, started leaning me down.” He does remember his diabolical plan when you were sitting down sweetly on that little row boat, trying to help him, he just wanted to lay you right down and show you how appreciative he was.

"And you dropped the oar, sweet girl, wasn't my fault.”

"Yes, it was, you distracted me and then you tilted your body when you heard the splash to see what happened and so I did the same. Which made the boat tip over and left us both in the water.”

“And you just started laughing, I couldn't even be worried about you because your sweet little laugh was the first thing I heard. I just swam right over and had you in my arms, started laughing with you, and the only way I could get you to stop was by kissing you.”

"And then you wouldn't let me help you get the oars and row boat back up.”

"You're so pretty, sweet girl, would rather watch you while I'm on task, we saw what happened when that doesn't happen.”

"That was your fault!” You exclaimed, he could feel your smile on his chest.

“Maybe, but it was worth it.”

You hummed in response, one of your hands playing with the fabric of his own medical gown. "And then you insisted I had to get on first and I didn't know how you did it but somehow you got me in the row boat again before climbing back in, without it tipping over, it almost did, but not completely. And it was so hot that it was drying us off completely when you rowed us back with that beautiful, goofy smile on your face the whole time.”

“Couldn't help myself, you're so beautiful, love to look at you, angel."

“And only after we got to shore and you were insisting on carrying the whole boat by yourself did I notice I'd lost one of my sandals." You let out a small laugh into his chest that made his own smile brighten. “So you told me it was another reason I couldn't carry the boat even though it didn't bother me. We'd lost all the fish so we just ate grapes and giggled as you tried to figure something else out."

“I sat you on the counter and you just smiled like you were the sun, so I'd sneak kisses in while I worked. We decorated that rowboat together, do you remember?"

You nodded into his chest, eyebrows scrunched together. “With flowers and seashells?"

“Yeah, good job! Flowers, seashells, fish, the ocean waves, our handprints, and I carved our initials into it too."

Your voice become somehow even softer, “So when I was in the Capitol I'd think about how refreshing the water felt when the sun was beating down on us, how it felt and tasted when you kissed me, how you held me, the sound of you laugh, how special you made me feel by taking care of me. I'd think about that day to try and stop me from slipping away, for a while it worked."

You never ceased breaking his heart and making him fall deeper in love with you. "Well you're still here with me, haven't really slipped away from me.”

"I feel like I have, that I've slipped away from even knowing myself.” You admitted, voice croaky.

“You've just fallen and we're helping you back up, angel, I'm putting you back in the boat. Maybe it'll rock, but I promise you, it won't tip again."

𓈒⠀𓂃⠀⠀˖⠀𓇬⠀˖⠀⠀𓂃⠀𓈒

His life was hell with you gone because now there was nothing but the ever present loneliness to return too. There wasn't a day that seemed to pass where he didn't think of you in some way. Sometimes it was how much he missed you, others it was fantasies of still being together, and the worst ones were when he'd imagine your life without him. It was terrible when the breakup had begun and he had his first party because everybody had been drawn to you.

“Where is she, is she not feeling well because I can stop by."

"You can't have let that one go, Odair, she was perfect for you.”

"Finnick, she was my drinking buddy!" People admonished him left and right when it was finally revealed that he'd dumped you. Although he was pretty sure people were more upset about the lack of your magnetic presence.

Initially he tried to play it off like his Capitol persona would have, you were just one of many girls lined up for him, and the committal part had scared him off, and you were so clingy. The rumor mill caught it and so many girls were ready to be next. He felt like he was betraying you every time he sent a flirty smirk back to whatever they said to draw him in. So he gave up the persona, he'd rather be mournful and drink away the problems each night.

Then he'd heard that Tallulah still saw you, she'd grab a bottle or two and sneak out to tap on your window. That way she still had someone to take care of her afterwards and she trusted you with the role. “Lulah please tell me what she says, I don't care what about, just anything. I'm begging you." Finnick was tipsy and felt like he was going to cry, but Tallulah pursed her lips.

“Finnick, I don't think that's a good idea.” She took another sip of her drink.

"I'll do whatever you want, please. I'm not asking you to pass messages or anything.” She must have taken pity on him and his tears when she agreed. So he soaked up anything you'd said the next time he saw Tallulah.

“I don't think you want to know."

“I do, I don't care what it is."

“Finnick, if you're already this beat up about it, I'm not sure telling you what she said will help.”

“That's okay, I deserve to feel bad about it."

Tallulah sighed, " People talk Finnick, so the things you'd said about her kind of, you know, got back to her.”

Finnick looked up as if it would stop the tears from falling,"No, no, no, no I didn't mean that. She has to know I didn't mean that.”

"But you said it.” Tallulah shrugged. "She kept asking if I thought she was too clingy or overbearing, sometimes she'd ask if you had someone else and then decided she didn't want to know.”

"No, never.” He said quickly and hated himself for leaving his sweet girl only to cause her even more pain from afar.

“If you're gonna leave a girl, you have to leave her, Finnick. Or you're both gonna spend your whole lives wishing for things when you could just move on. I'm not gonna do this again, just let her have Conway. It's always been them.”

"I know, that's okay.” But it wasn't because Finnick Odair was like a moth to a flame. Any time he could see or hear about you he would. He remembered when nearly a year later you'd started dating Beckett, the same goddamn Beckett that had drawn Finnick to you in the first place. He'd been jealous for a myriad of reasons he had no right to. At least it wasn't Conway, at least if you stuck with Beckett it was a different ending then the expected, the obvious route.

But god, did Finnick hate him. Because he represented you trying to move on, that Finnick didn't have a future with you, and worst of all that other people found you just as intriguing as he did. So when he'd walk the market in circles just to see Beckett shamelessly flirting with you and in your way, you'd flirt back. Maybe he was vain, but Finnick liked to imagine that you did it so he'd be jealous and take you back, even if that could never happen. Beckett had to know it affected Finnick too, who only maintained terse conversation or made jabbing comments towards the other boy.

Until finally whatever excitement you got from it burnt out and you told Beckett it wouldn't work. Leaving Finnick to wonder if it was wrong that he hoped it was because you realized you could never love someone as much as you loved him. It was probably fucked to want, but he needed to know so desperately that you were as longing for him as he was for you. His life condemned him to longing glances and whispers of your name over the ocean waves, but at least you would be safe. Maybe he'd find you in another lifetime, right person, wrong time. Then you could be safe and happy.

Instead he realized the universe didn't expect either of your lives to be ones of just the parted lovers, whatever he'd done in a past life, was coming back for blood. He should've known Snow would realize Finnick thought of you with every breath he took, that he still thought of your lips instead every time he was in the company of a customer, and that it would lead to more tragedy. Because when the fated reaping for the 69th Hunger Games began, it was your name sent into the labyrinth of death.

Any light left in his life had been aggressively ripped from him, it was as if everytime he thought he'd hit rock bottom the ground would crumble beneath him and the falling would resume. At least he knew you were smart, he was privy enough to the clockwork of you to know that you were terrified, but to anyone else you would've looked so calm and collected. Then you looked at him and he felt like the ground was breaking again, another thousand feet to fall. It was like you were sending him a love letter before you went off to certain death.

Tides were always changing, they could sweep you away or reveal the gorgeous curiosities of the waters, Finnick wasn't sure what it was when the second tribute's name was called. Conway. Why was he inescapable? If the stars destined you and Finnick to be tragic lovers, then Conway was always there to rock the boat. But through your eyes, glistening with tears, he sees the plan almost formed. Never has he been so grateful that his sweet girl could easily put on a brave face to handle anything, that you're used to using charisma as a way to fend for yourself, because that means success in the Capitol and you need that.

So although he wished your eyes had stayed on him, blessed him, instead they could do what he needed. Make you interesting enough for sponsors. He knew Conway deserved better, but how could he focus on him when you were right there? His sun, his moon, the stars in the sky, you were absolutely everything, so there was no time to think about what Conway deserved or didn't.

Finnick could easily craft your image to others. He was certain of it, he could sing your praises night and day, so it would be far from difficult to convince the Capitol that you were the model victor. If he had to grovel at the feet of every elite, let them damage his long gone sense of dignity, then it might be worth it for once. Your death would be the last piece of pressure on the dam before it burst open, he needed you to survive. If you won he could be with you. There wouldn't be any hiding because as a victor, Snow would already be finding ways to dig his talons into you. It was all worth it to be able to hold you again.

Finnick could watch every mechanical gear shift in your brain and fall into place. The way Conway loved you, which made Finnick seethe even if he'd always laughed it off like it didn't bother him in the slightest, was going to have to save your life. You'd hate yourself for it, but you'd hate yourself more if you didn't do everything you could do to be there for your family. The same family that you were convinced despised you, but you would spend every cent of victory money on doctors for your mother, or to make it so none of them had to worry about crabs ever again. Not as if that would be necessary, the influx of riches was so exorbitant no one really knew what to do with it once they'd helped those they loved and spoiled themselves sick. Regardless, if you had to step on Conway's head for them you would. Even if it meant the end of the friendship that had kept you afloat for years. Maybe you avoided home like the plague, but only after you'd worked to convince everyone you could sell out your booth. Finnick had always been in awe about how sweet little you could effortlessly piggyback on any information you had to make a sale, which was a largely successful method. If you won you'd have to focus your efforts on performing for all of Panem instead, but that wouldn't be an issue for you when your family would be safe.

Surely it didn't hurt that he was also on the other side of survival, maybe that was selfish for him to think about, but he hoped you knew he would take you back in a heartbeat. That every dream he'd ever shared with you, fantasy about your future, could be possible once you had that crown on your head. It would be full of trials and turbulent waters, but at least you could be together. So he watched as you forced your eyes to portray the gaze of a lover about to be ripped apart from her happy ending, the look you'd genuinely worn when he'd broken your heart. Conway seemed to know you well enough to understand that, but it gave Finnick pride to know he couldn't read you like a book, unlike him. At the end of the day that would be a good thing, at least Conway could die without his dreams of being loved by you being dismantled.

𓈒⠀𓂃⠀⠀˖⠀𓇬⠀˖⠀⠀𓂃⠀𓈒

Finnick should've known better than to fall asleep once you had. But it felt so normal to have you asleep on his chest. He was no stranger to nightmares, his or your own, it had become a constant present in your lives. Usually he knew how to handle them, but now it was a completely different ballgame. When you woke up screaming you didn't want his comfort, you wanted him as far away as humanly possible. Hitting his chest as he unwrapped his arms as quickly as he could to dart out of the room as fast as he could while the doctors flooded in.

“Just let him kill me." You were sobbing, curled back into the ball where your knees were pulled to your chest as you cried into them. A doctor tried to touch you and you instantly pulled away, like you were a wounded dog. Your hand covered your ears as you rocked back forth, and back and forth. “I need to see Conway." You muttered and then so lightly under your breath, “Conway, Conway, Conway."

“Angel, he's not here right now." He'd never be here, but further upset could be avoided.

You nodded slowly, “I need to see Peeta." At least that was doable.

“Tomorrow, he's been doing better, we can take you to see Peeta tomorrow." A doctor assured, no one wanted to sedate you again unless they absolutely had to, so this was much better.

“Promise?"

“We'll do what we can." She smiled at you sympathetically.

You slowly uncurled yourself from your ball, “Okay."

“Are you feeling better?"

“Yeah, I'm sorry." Thank god, no king crisis. Just a moment that had now passed.

“You're okay, just had a bad dream. Perfectly understandable, do you need anything?" You shook your head and the medical staff slowly began filing out.

“Can I stay?" Finnick's fingers found the rope to focus on. You looked at him for a second, like you were deep in thought, before nodding. So he took his place in the chair, “Do you wanna talk about it?"

“You should just kill me now." The words ran out of your mouth and made his heart drop, “I know you want to and I wanted you too. I probably deserve the uncertainty of when it will happen, but I'm selfish and just need it to be over with."

He wasn't sure if his heart had ever hurt more, but it was always reaching new levels of pain. “I don't want to kill you and I'm not going to ever.”

"You should. Even I know I should die, it's not wrong to admit.” You blankly stared at the glass in front of you.

“You don't deserve to die, you've done nothing with that. You've suffered enough to make up for whatever it is you think you did.”

"No I haven't, this is the universe’s lead up to it. I hurt him, the only person who really cared about me since we were children, and I tore him into shreds. It has to come for me.”

“Look at me.” You kept staring at the glass. Finnick's words came out harsher than he expected them too, but maybe it would mean they finally got through your head. “Look at me!” Finally you did, looking so startled and confused. "This karmic retribution fantasy needs to stop. It's been six years. I'm not telling you to stop hurting or that the guilt will go away, but it doesn't mean you need to continue to suffer or deserve death.” He leaned forward in his chair, "You used Conway, so you deserve death? You spent six years being used by any Capitol elite willing to pay. Being horrifically abused in any way imaginable. You got sent back into the arena! There was only one year you had a victor and she came out of the arena known for being ‘crazy.’ They sent you back into the arena to die and you didn't expect to come out of it. The Capitol held you hostage and tortured you. Have you not given enough to make up for what you did as a teenager? Conway, after six years, would have said it was more than enough to make up for a few weeks of deception. Even if this led to his death, because no matter what, he cared about you. He was angry then, but I doubt that in whatever happens after we die he's holding that grudge after watching you suffer for so long because he loved you. You don't want someone you love to go through something like that.”

You were sobbing again and Finnick felt his own eyes brimming with tears. “I miss him."

“I know, angel. I know." He would never be able to fill the role that Conway had and he'd long accepted that. All he could do was assure you that when I came down to the bare bones of it all, Conway as he was, wouldn't have wanted you to suffer as much as you had for it. Whatever punishment it caused had been more than paid and he would've known that. He would've told you that if he could. He'd been so angry in the moment, but Finnick knew Conway still would have loved you despite the transgressions in his heart and life because that had been his way. All Finnick could do was hope you didn't find a way to see what Conway would really say, in the near future, because then he'd follow quickly behind.

𓈒⠀𓂃⠀⠀˖⠀𓇬⠀˖⠀⠀𓂃⠀𓈒

thank you for reading, sorry this took so long, I've been very busy!! feedback, comment, likes, reblogs are all very appreciated. my ask box is always open and I loved answering them, requests are open and I've got some fics from them coming up after this. thank y'all so much for reading 💋

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#wanda 💋#finnick odair x reader #finnick odair #finnick odair x y/n #finnick odair fluff #the lakes #finnick odair angst #finnick odair x reader fluff #finnick odair x you #finnick odair x reader angst #finnick odair fanfic #finnick fanfic #finnick imagine #finnick x you #finnick x y/n #finnick x reader #finnick odair imagine #the river

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cinnamontoastcrunch-15 · 4 months

Text

Happy Anniversary?

Marlene's the first one to bring it up.

Remus is just sitting, trying to do his transfiguration homework in the common room when she pipes up.

"Hey, Remus, isn't your anniversary soon?" That's enough to draw his attention, head snapping up with a confused frown. "Any plans?"

"...anniversary?" He asks. Marlene looks at him like he's just spoken another language, or that he's magically turned into a brick wall.

"Yeah. Are you doing anything for it?"

"I have no clue what you're on about," he says simply, expecting that to be the end of that. However, a knowing smile finds its way onto Marlene's face, and she nods.

"Ah, right. I get it," she says with a wink, only befuddling Remus more.

Still, he doesn't think anyone else is going to bring it up.

As it turns out, everyone seems to think he has some big anniversary coming up. Lily congratulates him, Mary says she "always knew it was going to last forever", even Edgar Bones nudges him and whispers a quick "well done".

Somehow, and Remus has no clue how, he did something noteworthy a year ago. He's also completely unaware as to what. Nobody answers him when he asks, so he simply starts offering a polite smile and moving on with his day. There's some strange misunderstanding happening, and it'll probably blow over soon.

Probably.

It takes reaching the 'anniversary' date to figure out what the fuck is going on.

He's finally gotten some time with Sirius after he's been stuck in back-to-back detentions, walking down to the Black Lake together and just... chatting. It's really nice being able to spend time with Sirius outside of his classes again, even if it sends his stomach spinning and diving. As they talk, they pass Dorcas, who turns and calls to the two of them.

"Happy anniversary, guys!"

She's gone before they can ask any questions, leaving Remus with the same confused feeling as before. He opens his mouth to explain the situation to Sirius, only for Sirius to beat him to it.

"That's been happening all week," he says, puzzled, which stops Remus in his tracks.

"It has?"

He isn't walking anymore, and Sirius stops with him, elaborating with a frown.

"Yeah. Everyone's been going on and on about some anniversary. I don't know what-"

"They've been doing it to me too," Remus interjects quickly, almost under his breath. Sirius catches it though, eyes widening as he reaches the same conclusion as Remus has at the same bloody time.

It's them.

It's all about them.

All of the knowing glances, the congratulations, even the weird fucking winks. They all think Remus and Sirius are dating. Not only that, but they've thought that for a year? The thought sends too many emotions running through him. Shock, confusion and, oddly enough, bitterness. He's fallen asleep every night for months with Sirius on his mind. The thought of kissing him, being with him, belonging to him. He's spent too long biting back his confessions, the very obvious and frustrating fact that he's in love with Sirius Black, because he doesn't want to destroy their friendship, and his friends have just swooped in and made things so much more difficult!

"It's our fucking anniversary, isn't it?" Sirius says quietly, before glancing behind him. "Hold on," he says to Remus, turning right back around and going in the same direction Dorcas has just gone. He seems to involuntarily grab Remus' hand, Remus having no choice but to follow him helplessly.

They get to the Great Hall in time for lunch. Remus is a little pissed that everyone's weird obsession with their imaginary anniversary is interrupting the picnic they had planned.

"Guys." The two of them stop on front of the group, Sirius doing the talking, thank fuck. To be perfectly honest, Remus feels pretty speechless. "D'you lot think Remus and I are dating?"

"Yeah?" James says simply, wrinkling his nose like it's just a fact of life. "Everyone knows you're together."

"...we're not," Sirius says slowly, carefully, sending the group lapsing into silence, exchanging confused glances.

"Okay, that's doesn't make any sense," Lily says, everybody else nodding in agreement. "You're literally together all the time."

"Because we're friends," Sirius explains, and Remus really isn't sure what to say. Good thing he doesn't have to, because the back and forth doesn't stop.

"If Remus is in the hospital wing, you're there until Madame Pomfrey kicks you out," James offers.

"I care about him!" Sirius argues, but something about what James has said has hit him in a strange way, Remus hears the shift in his tone, feels the slight tightening of his grip on Remus' hand.

"You're holding hands right now," Mary says pointedly, and Sirius looks down at their connected hands like he had forgotten it had happened. Still, he has a reason for that one too.

"I hold everyone's hand."

He really doesn't want people to think he's dating Remus, does he?

"Not that much," Peter mumbles under his breath, and Remus almost wants to laugh.

"Sorry, does nobody find it strange that we've never kissed, then?" James shrugs.

"Not really. Figured you didn't like PDA."

"Okay, then... we've never called each other boyfriends, never been on a date-"

"Right, that one's just not true," Marlene says with a snort. Remus frowns, confused. Have they been on a date? Surely he'd know, right? "You go to Hogsmeade together all the time, you run off to 'study' every chance you get, and you're picnicking today."

"We're friends? Friends spend time together," Sirius says quickly, and Remus is really starting to struggle. He doesn't want to stand there while Sirius explains how ridiculous the concept of them dating is.

Instead of putting a stop to the conversation, Remus takes the coward's way out. He pulls his hand free from Sirius', turns, and walks away.

"Moony, wait-"

Remus pointedly ignores Sirius' call to him, aiming to get to the dorm and just wallow in self-pity for fifteen minutes. That way, he can act like he's fine and just go to the bloody picnic.

His hip, however, has other plans.

It twinges right as he reaches the stairs, forcing him to a halt with a sharp inhale. His hand involuntarily goes to the bannister at the bottom of the stairs, trying to get some of the weight off it. Unfortunately for him, it means Sirius catches up too quickly. To be honest, he hadn't even realised that Sirius was following him, but he arrives at his side in a matter of seconds.

"Moony, are you alright?" Remus lets his eyes sink shut for half a second, frustrated. "I'm sorry, I didn't realise they were upsetting you that much."

"It's not- it's just- it's nothing, I'm fine," Remus settles on, offering Sirius a tired smile.

"Moons, s'fine. I know how stupid you think it is." Sirius takes another step forward, acting as though he hasn't just confused the fuck out of Remus.

"What d'you mean? That's not why..." he trails off, not sure how to verbalise any of his thoughts without telling Sirius everything. Sirius fills it in for him, though.

"It's okay, really. You don't have to spare my feelings, or anything. I know you don't feel the same way," Sirius says with a shrug, sending Remus' mind reeling in a matter of seconds.

The same way.

The same fucking way?

Just like that, Remus is malfunctioning. Firstly, when the Hell did Sirius start liking him back? He's spent months having to reel in his own emotions, spending time with Sirius and accepting the sad reality that he's never going to be with him in a romantic way. Finally, just finally, he's started to come to terms with his own unrequited emotions, accept and embrace his friendship with Sirius, and they're not even bloody unrequited?

Also, when did they talk about it? How has Sirius come to the conclusion that Remus doesn't like him? Christ, Remus is fucking in love with him!

That's enough to spur Remus to talk.

"What?"

Okay, maybe he can't form full sentences right now, but he'll get there. Hopefully. Sirius just scrunches his nose up, confused.

"Moony, I get it, it's honestly okay. You don't like me, and didn't want to hear them all jumping to conclusions," He explains, and it only throws Remus more.

"No, that's not it," Remus says quickly, stunned that any words are coming out, even if they're pretty unhelpful words.

All he can do is look at Sirius. Beautiful, amazing, kind Sirius, who crushed his own feelings because he thought they were upsetting Remus. Merlin, he can't take it anymore. Clearly words aren't working for him right now, he has to try something else. Something that will express every single emotion that he has bottled up since he first went tripping and falling head over heels for his best friend.

His solution? Kiss the prat before he has a chance to second guess himself.

With that, he reaches out, grabs Sirius' jacket with one hand, pulls him in, and kisses him. At first, Sirius freezes, stunned, and Remus has an awful panic that he's gotten everything all wrong. Luckily for him, Sirius finally registers that Remus is kissing him and kisses him back.

It's...

Christ, it's everything Remus has ever imagined and more. It's like time stops as Remus' stomach swirls. Sirius' lips are soft against his, and his kiss is explorative, fucking mind blowing. He wraps his arms around Sirius' waist, feeling Sirius lean into the touch as he reaches out and cups Remus' cheek.

After what could be an hour, a few minutes, even a few seconds, just definitely not enough time, they both break away. Unfortunately, breathing exists, and Remus kind of needs to remember how to do that. Almost in unison, their foreheads press together, and Remus can feel a smile making its way onto his face.

"Well," Sirius starts, amused, "I guess this is our anniversary, then."

#i'm super happy with how this turned out #i have a whole separate thing explaining why they all thought it was wolfstars anniversary #it is though xoxo #ugh i love them #idiots #my idiots #wolfstar #sirius black #wolfstar oneshot #marauders #remus lupin #remus x sirius #young marauders #moony x padfoot #atyd marauders #marauders oneshot

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stevie-petey · 4 months

Text

episode eight: the upside down

You know you shouldn’t, but you laugh. Honestly, after everything you’ve been through tonight with Steve, how can he possibly think the two of you aren’t friends? “Why are you laughing?” Steve mumbles, confused. “Sorry,” you wheeze out, still uncontrollably laughing. “It’s just–I mean, dude! We almost died together, of course we’re friends now!” “We are?” He looks like a little kid on Christmas day being given the gift he’s always wanted. Your heart warms. “Yes, idiot.”

summary: drinking game time ! take a shot every time jonathan tries ditching you or every time you almost die at the byers house, you find out that steve really is an athlete and tbh it's hot, but you know what's even hotter ? saving hawkins and reaching a tentative compromise with steve after he loans you $5 for snacks. after, jonathan makes a promise you really hope he can keep.

rating: general, cursing and slight scary violence

warnings: violence, use of fire and weapons, guns, use of fem!reader and use of y/n, slight mentions of blood and death

words: 13.7k

before you swing in: the final chapter ,,, my heart </3 please enjoy my child, i put so much into this chapter. action scenes scare me, they're hard and i'm weak, so i hope this lives up to everything you guys wanted n more ;) i cannot believe we're at the end (but i do have another chapter planned that's set in season 1, so shhhh). thank you so so so much for all your support. i never thought this silly lil fic would get that much attention, but i'm insanely flattered and grateful for each and every one of y'all. i'm so proud of what i've created and you guys are my beloveds ,,, anyways, enjoy !!!

You almost miss Jonathan and Nancy sneaking off.

You had been explaining a comic book that had been in your bag to El when you noticed a shift in your periphery. Turning your head, you see Jonathan stand, offer Nancy his hand to help her up, and then walk towards the main doors together.

What the fuck.

“They wouldn’t dare…” You excuse yourself and run out the gym and into the hallway to follow them, absolutely furious. You’re so sick of their bullshit, of Jonathan’s bullshit and putting Nancy first. This isn’t even a petty jealousy thing, this is about the years of friendship between the two of you that has just suddenly disappeared within a damn week all due to circumstances completely out of your control.

The slam of the main door is the only warning Jonathan gets before you’re yanking him by his coat and flinging him back, forcing him to look at you. “Where the fuck do you think you’re going?”

You’ve never, ever yelled at him like this before. Not even earlier this week when he’d given you that bullshit apology after screaming at you for being in his room, for saying the two of you weren’t family. You didn’t yell at him for hiding Nancy’s pictures from you, for going off without you to find the monster. Despite everything, you’ve never been this cruel to him, even if he may have deserved it at times.

Jonathan’s wide eyes stare down at your hand that’s still clutched around his coat, frightened. “Bug, we were just–”

“Just what? Sneaking off without me?”

“It’s not like that, Y/N.” Nancy now steps in, her hands held up as if you’re some rabid dog she wants to calm down. “We just figured we’d help Joyce and Hopper.”

“‘We’? Are you fucking kidding me? You two talked about this, had an entire conversation, and still somehow came to the conclusion that ditching me was a great fucking idea?” You scoff, deeply hurt by the fact that the two of them had an entire conversation without thinking to include you in it.

“Bug, can we talk about this one on one?” Jonathan asks, his voice lowered. You can see the genuine upset in his eyes and for a moment your grip on him lessens, but then you see Nancy behind him and your anger only returns.

“No, we can discuss this right here.”

He sighs and tries to grab the hand not clutching his coat, but you slap it away. “Bug–”

“You’ve lost that privilege.”

“Bug–I mean, Y/N,” His voice falters. “Look, my mom and Hopper are out there right now trying to find Will while that monster is still out. Nance and I… We want to finish what we started.”

“Without me?” You don’t mean for it to happen, but your voice catches at the end.

Jonathan’s gaze softens and this time he succeeds in grabbing your hand. You let go of him and allow him to pull you in, weak against him as always. “I’m doing this to protect them, to protect you, Y/N. I’m always trying to protect you. You know that, right?”

You used to think that you did, but now? You’re not so sure, and it terrifies you.

Nancy has stepped away from the conversation, now kicking at rocks while you’re with Jonathan, and you can’t help but think about how wrong all of this feels.

Throughout this entire week it’s felt like someone has given you a photo of Jonathan, smeared its lines and edges, removed his moles and his crooked smile and made it neater, altered so that if you squint you can see the boy you grew up with underneath it all… But it’s fuzzy, almost too unclear to really see.

Now he’s standing in front of you, his smile once more crooked and cunning and his moles faded underneath the moonlight and for a second you can see him. There he is, clear and untouched and him in a way that’s never quite been yours.

“I know,” you tell him. “But how many more times do you expect me to forgive you for lying and ditching me? If you want to protect me, you need to talk to me.”

Jonathan winces. “I know, I know it sounds stupid and I know I’ve fucked up more than enough this week, I just get caught up in wanting to make sure you’re safe. It’d kill me if I let anything happen to you… I just, I can’t lose you, bug.”

“So pushing me away is your grand plan of keeping me?”

“I’ve always been an idiot.” He manages a smile, and you can’t help but laugh.

“That’s true, but if you attempt to ditch me one more time I swear to god I’ll pour tar all over your car.”

The boy laughs and for a brief moment everything feels okay again, but it doesn’t last very long. “In our defense, we figured you’d be better off with the kids since you’re not really a fighter, ya know?”

You drop his hand. “Excuse me?”

Jonathan’s smile is gone. “What?”

“I’m not really a fighter? You’re kidding, right?”

“Hey, no I didn’t mean it like that–” Jonathan fumbles over his words, clearly taken aback by your sudden mood change.

You step away from him. “How many times did I defend you against Lonnie? Better yet, remind me how we became friends in the first place. Wasn’t it because I threw milk at a bunch of idiots bullying you? Huh?”

“Y/N–”

“God, I can’t believe I almost let you get away with it again! I mean, do you even hear the bullshit that comes out of your mouth?” You deepen your voice, now doing a poor impersonation of him. “‘Hey, bug! You know I love you, right? Cool! Now, I’m gonna go do fuck all and ignore you and ditch you and then somehow turn it into me being a good guy because duh! I can never do any wrong!’”

“Please, just–”

“Did I get it right? It was a pretty good impersonation in my opinion. I mean, I am the one who has had to deal with this shit all fucking week. I think I'm an expert on this topic now.”

Jonathan looks pained but you don’t fucking care anymore. You’ve reached your limit, you’re sick and tired of being treated like some delicate creature that’s incapable of taking care of itself. You literally slapped Tommy Hagan this afternoon in order to help Jonathan, yet here he is basically calling you weak.

And yet Nancy is the fighter. She’s the one who gets to go along on the adventure while you’re sidelined because for some damn reason you’re always the second option. Never taking matters into your own hands, always the one left behind to clean up the mess and take care of those also discarded.

You’re sick of it.

You step closer to Jonathan again, so that you’re nose to nose, and whisper, “I’m tired of never being good enough.”

And with that, you reach into his coat and snatch up his keys, a game you’ve always played with him but now has turned into a bitter taste in your mouth, and run back into the gym. Someone has to inform the kids of the plan, make sure they’ll be okay on their own.

Dustin sees you approach and smiles, but when he notices the angry pace in your steps, he frowns. “Uh oh.”

“Yeah, uh oh.”

“Jonathan again?”

You nod, still too angry to trust your words. “Yeah.”

He notices the keys in your hand. “Where are you going?”

Mike and Lucas look over now, curious as to what’s happening.

You sigh. “I’m going with Nancy and Jonathan to the Byers house, we’re going to kill the monster.”

“Why the hell are you going?” Dustin exclaims while Mike shoutes “sick!” and Lucas mumbles “great, alone again”. El remains quiet, still resting.

You flick your brother’s hat. “I have to, Dustin.”

“For Jonathan?” He shakes his head. “I like him, but aren’t you mad at him right now?”

“Is it just me, or is she always mad at him these days?” Mike whispers over to Lucas, who simply shrugs.

“Girls, man.”

You ignore them and focus on Dustin. “It doesn’t matter. He needs my help, and no one in the party gets left behind. Remember?”

“Y/N–”

“I love you,” you kiss the top of his head. “I promise I’ll be safe, just be careful, okay? I’m putting you in charge, so don’t let me down. If everything goes according to plan, I’ll see you in a few hours tops!”

Dustin tries to argue some more, but you quickly run back outside before he can get another word in. You feel horrible leaving him behind, but you know this is the right decision. If you can kill the monster, there’s less of a chance of the kids or Joyce and Hopper getting hurt. Jonathan and Nancy may be fine on their own, but there’s always power in numbers and they’ll need all the help they can get.

You just… you have to help. You know this is what you’re supposed to be doing, even if it pains you to do so. Dustin and the kids are smart; as long as they stay at the school, they’ll be fine.

In theory, that is.

Nancy and Jonathan are waiting for you outside. You push past them and march towards Jonathan’s care; they awkwardly follow after you. You unlock it, throw yourself into the backseat, and promptly dig through your backpack to make sure you have everything.

The two teens get in a few minutes after you. Not one word is spoken as Jonathan starts the car and the three of you drive off, leaving Hawkins Middle behind.

–

You thought the car ride with Nancy and Jonathan from the funeral home had been tense, but this one? Downright painful.

Jonathan has a tight grip on the steering wheel and keeps trying to catch your eye through the rearview mirror but you avoid his gaze. You’ve spent the last five minutes arranging and rearranging your backpack to give you something to do while Nancy has tried three times to make conversation to make this car ride bearable.

“El seems nice.”

“You said four words to her, Nancy.” You retort, switching open your switchblade once more to watch the moonlight dance off of its blades.

“Right.”

Nancy shifts uncomfortably in the passenger seat. You know she realizes she’s once again upset the balance in your relationship with Jonathan. It was only an hour ago that she tried getting you to admit your feelings for him before convincing the boy to up and leave you. Sure, Jonathan made his own decision in the end, but damn. She could’ve at least pretended to want you around.

She notices your knives and tries to spark conversation again. “I love the color of the handle, it’s beautiful.”

“Thanks,” you switch the blades closed and sit up in your seat. “Anyways, you geniuses have a plan or were you just counting on ditching me and winging it from there?”

“Y/N–”

“No, Nancy. I insist, let’s talk about a plan. We’re here to kill a monster, right?”

She closes her mouth and frowns, turning to Jonathan for help, but he’s no use. He’s busy tapping his fingers against the wheel and praying that the world will just swallow him up whole. Too bad for him you’re a stubborn pain in the ass and would simply pluck him back up so you can torture him some more.

Nancy sighs. “Well, Jonathan and I were thinking we use the supplies we got earlier and lure the monster to his place, then we kill it.”

“Awesome plan, guys!” You say, your voice dripping with sickly sweetness that leaves them both feeling even more uncomfortable. “But may I suggest some actual details or shall we just bank off of this wonderfully dull and vague plan?”

“Sure, Y/N. Tell us what you had in mind.” Nancy rubs her face tiredly, knowing she deserves this.

“Great! I’m assuming we’re luring the monster with blood?” They nod at you, so you continue. “Okay, so before we lure it I think we should completely booby-trap Jonathan’s house. Nail the bear trap down onto the floor, make sure the floor is cleared of anything that could trip us up. Then, once we’ve got the house secured, we knick ourselves to draw some blood and pray to whatever god is up there that we can kill the thing.”

You pause for a moment, remembering how all the Christmas lights had been unscrewed by Joyce earlier. “The lights, we need to fix them. The monster communicates through the lights so if we have them, then we can track it.”

“That all sounds great, bug.” Jonathan finally speaks up, ass kissing.

“Thanks, pal. Still don’t have the bug privilege back, but I’m sure you simply forgot.”

He gulps, once more going back to being silent as he drives you and Nancy to his house.

Nancy again tries to diffuse the tension. “How do we even kill the monster though? I mean, will my bullets be enough?”

“I have this idea, but it’s… well, it’s out there.” You bite your lip, now feeling your cocky demeanor slipping. “If we can safely set fire to it, I think that’s our best bet.”

“Fire?” Jonathan exclaims, but Nancy shushes him.

“I think you’re right.”

“Y/N, I know you’re mad at me but do we really have to set fire to my house–”

Now it’s your turn to shush Jonathan. “This isn’t about that. I wouldn’t burn your house down, I already told you I’d just pour tar on your car whenever I get the chance. For now, I really do think the best thing to do is burn the monster alive. In every horror movie and book, fire always gets the job done.”

Despite herself, Nancy lets out a soft chuckle as Jonathan parks the car, now at his house. “She’s right, Jonathan. And who burns down houses these days? Tar really is the best form of revenge.”

“I’m flattered, Wheeler. At the rate you’re going, you’ll be off my shitlist in no time.” You tell her, patting her on the shoulder before getting out of the car. You quickly open up the trunk and gather the monster hunting supplies while Jonathan and Nancy take their time getting out.

You let yourself into the Byers home using your own key to the place. It’s been nestled in between the key to your house and the spare key to Jonathan’s car on your keychain for a few years now.

The first thing you get started on are the lights. There’s hundreds of them to get through, but you drop your supplies and begin screwing them in one by one. Nancy and Jonathan come in soon after and silently begin to help.

No conversation is made besides the necessary comments about the prep work. You’re all too focused on the possibility of what could happen next; the danger of the situation has finally set in. After the lights have all been fixed, you instruct Jonathan to begin nailing the bear trap down while you and Nancy discuss where to pour the gasoline. You both agree to make a path from the living room to Will’s room.

As Nancy pours the gasoline, you follow behind her and pick up any flammables. You weren't lying to Jonathan earlier, you really don’t want to burn his house down. While the house is wrecked, it’s still a home despite everything that’s happened in it. You practically grew up within its walls, you’d do anything to keep it as protected as possible.

When you’re done, you watch Nancy load her gun. A shiver runs down our spine; she looks at ease with it, which you figure should be reassuring, but the gravity of everything leaves you feeling on edge. You leave her alone and walk into the kitchen where Jonathan is, now hammering a ton of nails into his bat.

You begin to sharpen your blades next to him, still finding that you only feel secure by his side. The rhythmic sound of his hammering calms you, in a sense. It serves as a distraction. You know you insisted on coming, you don’t regret it and you know you’re stronger than everyone seems to give you credit for, but you’re also terrified. This isn’t just some adventure in the woods; this could kill the ones you love dearly.

Once you’re both done preparing your weapons, the two of you walk to Will’s room and rig up a simple snare. Jonathan grabs a yo-yo and you pull up a chair to set it on. The idea is that when the string gets pulled, it’ll alert you that the monster has sprung the bear trap. It’s not the most efficient warning system, but it’ll have to do.

The last thing to do is set the bear trap, which takes all three of you to achieve. Jonathan and Nancy hold down the edges with their body weight and you very carefully set the trap with your hand. You shake a bit as you do so, but you force your nerves down. You remind yourself that Jonathan thinks you’re too weak, too cowardly, you have to prove him wrong.

When the bear trap clicks into place, you let out a harsh exhale and sink against the wall, your heart still pounding. Jonathan and Nancy copy you and the three of you sit in silence. You’re still shaking a bit, and Jonathan is next to you just as tense, but for the first time since you’ve met him you can’t reach out to grab his hand to steady yourself. He’s too far, both literally and figuratively. Even with him next to you, you couldn’t be more far apart.

In the back of your mind, you hope the kids are alright. Hopefully they’re having a better night than you currently are.

“C’mon,” you say after a few minutes, getting up to walk over to the living room. “We’ve done all we can, now we just have to draw some blood and be the prettiest bait in Hawkins.”

–

Nancy and Jonathan decide to cut the palm of their hands, but you respectfully would rather die than have a matching scar with them. The idea makes you so uncomfortable you visibly cringe when Jonathan tells you the idea. “Yeah, no thanks. I think I’ll find somewhere else to cut.”

He looks hurt by what you’ve said but doesn’t voice it. Instead, the three of you stand in the living room in a triangle facing each other and he begins reciting the plan. “Remember…”

Nancy goes first. “Straight into Will’s room and–”

“Don’t step on the trap.” You finish.

Jonathan nods. “And then?”

“Wait for the yo-yo to move.” The girl says.

“Then…” Jonathan flicks the lighter on.

You whistle low. “Let there be light…”

“Right. Light.” The boy nods again. “Alright, we ready?”

“Ready.”

“Scar time.”

Jonathan and Nancy bring their hands up and place their knives flat against their palms. You roll up your sleeve and place your own knife against the upper part of your arm, just below your shoulder, and take a deep breath.

“On three,” Jonathan says. He begins counting and you all can’t seem to stop shaking. He senses your unease and looks up at you and Nancy. “You guys don’t have to do this.”

Nancy glares at him, her own voice shaky. “Jonathan, stop talking.”

You nod. “Yeah, what she said.”

Jonathan tries to argue, but Nancy squeezes her eyes shut and yells, “Three!”

You close your own eyes and slice at your arm, the pain immediate. You gasp out, never having been good with pain, but you know you have to do this for Will. The blood trails down your arm, dripping from your elbow onto the ground, and you watch as blood from Jonathan’s and Nancy’s own cuts falls onto the ground too.

Well, at least it’ll be an easy scar to hide compared to theirs.

“Fuck, that stings.” You say to break the silence, and Nancy nods her head in agreement.

“Not the most pleasant feeling.”

Jonathan guides the two of you over to the couch and grabs the first aid kit that you had prepared on the coffee table. He sits in the middle, leaving room for both you and Nancy on each side of him, but you’re still pissed at him and opt to sit on the floor in front of the couch.

Nancy begins to patch up his wound, and it takes everything within you not to reach over and help him yourself. It feels unnatural to watch someone else taking care of him, but the space between you still feels too vast to cross.

You patch up your own cut while the two of them talk quietly. You wind a bandage tight around your arm, ensuring you won’t bleed through, and Jonathan watches above you with guilt in his eyes. Nancy is trying to reassure him that everything will be okay, but as he watches you struggle to tie the bandage he wonders if he’s fucked up more than just your friendship.

“Bug, let me help with that.” He leans down and ties your bandage before you can stop him.

You glare at him, still having not said anything to Jonathan besides what was needed for preparation. Nancy distracts herself by cleaning up around his cut and your stomach twists into knots. This is all so miserable.

“Y/N, I know you’re upset with me and you can go whenever. I won’t blame you, you’ve done enough for me.” Jonathan says, trying to catch your eye.

You turn away and inspect your bandage, still reeling over the fact that he tied it for you. “I’m here for Will, and only Will.”

“Y/N…” There’s a hurt in his voice that almost makes you turn around to throw your arms around his neck and whisper a million apologies to him. To tell him everything, that you love him and that you’d do anything for him and that’s why you’re so terrified of how you feel. You know you’d burn yourself up if it meant he’d be taken care of, if it meant he was safe and happy and far away from anything that could harm him. You know you’d use up everything within you to love him.

Instead, you remain silent.

After getting no response from you, Jonathan clears his throat and begins to say something about how the lights will serve as an alarm for the monster, trying to pretend that everything is okay, but he’s cut off by a sudden pounding on the door.

You all jump and your fingers tighten around your switchblade, ready to open it. As your heart pounds you think of all the possible ways the plan could go wrong. When you’re on possibility number twelve, a voice calls through the door.

“Jonathan?”

“Is that… Steve?” You say out loud, in complete disbelief.

Steve continues to pound on the door. “Are you there, man? It’s… It’s Steve! Listen, I just wanna talk!”

You’re the first to react, standing up to run over to the door. You fling it open and step outside, making sure Steve won’t be able to see inside the house. When he sees you, he stumbles back a bit. “Henderson?”

His face is still bleeding from earlier and his hair is a mess, and yet there’s a softness to him that you haven’t seen before with him. “Steve, now isn’t really a good time.”

“Can I just talk to Jonathan real quick? I just… I want to apologize about what happened earlier, see if we can maybe–” His eyes land on your bandaged arm. You curse and roll down your sleeve, feeling like an idiot for forgetting to hide the wound before going outside.

Steve reaches out to touch it, a hint of worry on his face and his voice is now full of concern. “Hey, are you okay?”

You shiver at his touch, it’s gentle as he skims along the bandage and inspects it for any other problems. You pull away, now hiding the wound. “It’s nothing, but you should really go.”

“I want to help you, Y/N. Do you need me to get you anything?” His face is so full of worry for you that it makes you ache. Then a thought occurs to him. “Wait, where’s Byers? Why isn’t he here to help you?”

You’re about to make up a lie, but Nancy flings the door open. “Steve, listen to me.”

He looks between the two of you in complete shock. “Okay, what–”

“You need to leave.” Nancy orders.

Steve looks at you. “I’m not trying to start anything, okay?”

“I know, but–” You get cut off by Nancy.

“I don’t care about that. You need to leave.”

Steve begins to plead with the girl and you step away a bit, not wanting to intrude. You feel bad for him, he looks so beat down by what’s happened today and you suppose that you can’t really blame him. After spending maybe a total of ten hours with Nancy and Jonathan, you also have come close to losing your mind.

If you were with Jonathan, if you truly had him, you’d react the same as Steve. Begging for the girl he loves to listen to him, to give him another chance with the promise of him changing.

“I just want to make things right.” Steve says, impressing you with his vulnerability. He’s openly admitting to his mistakes and taking accountability mere hours after the situation has occurred, leaving you both in awe of him and also saddened for him. He loves Nancy more than anything, you can hear it in his voice.

He deserves better.

As you’re thinking this, you see his eyes flicker down towards Nancy’s bandaged hand and his brows furrow. “What happened to your hand? Is that blood?” His eyes now flicker over to you again. “Why are you both hurt?”

“We’re clumsy?” You say as Nancy yanks her hand away from Steve.

“It was an accident.” She agrees.

Steve looks between the two of you, now sensing that something else is wrong. “What’s going on?”

“Nothing!” Nancy insists, but something in Steve’s demeanor shifts.

“Wait a second, did he do this to you? To Y/N?” His once soft voice is now filled with anger and you step in front of him.

“Steve, it wasn’t Jonathan. You need to go, I promise I’ll explain everything later–”

He grabs you by your side and gently moves you so that he can get past and shove through the door. Nancy yells at him to stop and tries to push him out, but she’s useless against his strength. When he manages to break in, he stumbles inside and scans over the house.

“Shit!” You follow after him, your brain running a million miles a second trying to figure out how to explain everything to him.

“What the fuck?” Steve mumbles, eyeing the bat with nails in it. “Y/N, what’s going on here?”

He’s looking to you for reassurance and you guess he assumes that the two of you are allies in this Jonathan and Nancy situation. You really wish you could explain, but Jonathan has grabbed him by the shoulders and is trying to push him outside. The two stumble around for a few seconds and you just helplessly watch.

“Steve, there’s no time to explain, please just listen to Jonathan and get out of here!” You’re helping Jonathan now, trying to get Steve out the door and away from harm’s reach, but he’s still fighting back confused and lost as ever and you pity him.

You hear a click and turn around, gasping when you see Nancy holding her gun up to Steve. “Woah, what the fuck Nancy?”

“What! What is going on?” Steve yells, now more panicked than anything else.

While Jonathan has stepped away, you find yourself standing in front of Steve as if to somehow block the bullet. You can’t let him get hurt, he doesn’t have any part of this, he can still have a normal and happy life if he just leaves now. “Nancy, put the fucking gun down, this isn’t helping!”

Steve pleads with her as well and the two of you scream at the girl to just listen and not swing around loaded weapons, but Nancy remains firm in her stance. “You have five seconds to get out of here. I’m doing this for you.”

“Because holding a gun to his head is any better than telling him the truth?” You exclaim, entirely over the situation.

As the four of you are arguing, the lights begin to flicker. Steve and Nancy don’t seem to notice, but you do. You look at Jonathan and say your first real words to him in hours. “Jonathan…”

He hears you and he runs over to your side, grabbing your hand as the two of you stand shoulder to shoulder. You feel your heartbeat race and you can feel him shaking beside you. He’s terrified, so are you, but his hand around yours manages to steady you.

“Nancy!” Jonathan tries to get the girl’s attention, but she’s too busy counting down to hear him.

He shouts at her again and the lights start to flicker more wildly and you draw your switchblade out, adrenaline coursing through you. It’s time.

Jonathan yells once more and finally catches Nancy’s attention. “The lights!”

She whips her head around and curses, Jonathan, still tightly holding your hand, tugs you along so that you follow him as he secures his weapons and grabs the bat. “It’s here.”

“What’s here?” Steve is flailing around, utterly lost.

You all ignore him and now stand back to back in a triangle. Nancy holds up her gun, Jonathan wields his bat, and you flick your wrist to bring out your knives. “Where is it?”

“I don’t know!”

The lights flicker rapidly and you feel overwhelmed. They were supposed to serve as a guide towards the monster, but there's no possible way to see which direction it’ll come from and for a fleeting moment you think you’ve made a huge mistake.

Steve is still screaming, demanding answers, but you’re too busy scanning your surroundings to offer him some information. “Hello? Will someone please explain to me what the hell is going–”

The roof opens up, cutting Steve off, and you scream as the monster attempts to come down right above you. Jonathan shields you from the fallen debris and you cling onto him in utter fear. This isn’t real. This cannot be happening.

Nancy begins to shoot at the thing while Jonathan guides you to safety. He brings you to the edge of the living room and holds your face in his hands, forcing you to really look at him for the first time all night. “Listen to me, stay here while I get Nancy.”

He kisses your forehead and then leaves, rushing over to Nancy to pull her away and guide her towards Will’s room. Steve stands next to you, frozen, and it forces you back to reality. The plan, you have to stick to the plan.

You grab Steve’s hand and yank him so that he follows. The monster has dropped down now, a horrible creature on all fours that opens its gaping mouth to let out a horrible screech that you feel deep within your bones. This is what killed Barb.

The four of you run to Will’s room and you only just barely have enough time to warn Steve about the bear trap. You look over your shoulder and shout, “Jump!” right as your ankle catches on its chains.

You fall. Hard.

Pain sears through your ankle and you try to get up, but any pressure on it sends flames through your entire body and you let out another scream. The monster catches up, looming over you, and you brace for your death. There’s no fucking way you’re getting out of this.

You squeeze your eyes as the monster stalks close to you, its ugly mouth open and ready to kill you. Jonathan is screaming at you to get up, but Nancy is holding him back from helping. You’re relieved by this, knowing that someone has to be there for Will once this is all done. He’ll need his brother, and Nancy seems to understand this. You catch her eye and nod at her, sending a silent thank you.

“Bug! No, let go of me! I have to help her, Nancy!” Jonathan’s voice becomes hoarse by how loud he screams, his voice breaking with fear and desperation.

Then, right before the monster lunges at you, you feel a familiar pair of arms slide underneath your legs and pick you up. “What–”

Steve Harrington has swooped in to save you, picking you up as if you weigh nothing, ever the athlete, and swiftly jumps over the bear trap while screaming his head off. “Oh my god, oh my god, oh my god!”

You’re so delirious from the pain in your ankle and the adrenaline pumping through your veins that you can’t help but let a laugh escape you. No fucking way is any of this real. Steve Harrington is carrying you bridal style into Will’s bedroom with Jonathan and Nancy as witnesses.

What a life.

Once you’re both secured in the room, Steve sets you down gently right as Nancy yells at him to shut up. As soon as Steve lets go of you, Jonathan is at your side and pulls you into a crushing hug.

“Bug.” He breathes out against your ear, relief heavy.

“I’m okay.” You tell him, threading your fingers through his hair. He’s shaking harder than ever, and holding onto you as if he’s scared he’ll lose you again. “I’m okay, bee.”

He pulls away and his hands are all over you, checking everywhere for any other injuries. “Did it hurt you, are you bleeding? There should be a first aid kit–”

You grab his hands and kiss his knuckles, which seems to calm him down a bit. “I’m fine, just twisted my ankle. If you help me up, I’m sure I’ll be able to stand again.”

Jonathan quickly helps you to your feet and you lean against him for the extra support. While you put on a brave face for Jonathan, you’re terrified out of your fucking mind. You almost died. Jonathan is still holding your hand and he’s looking at you as if seeing you for the first time and you force yourself to look away. It’s the same look from the field days ago, when you thought he’d kiss you.

You have to focus on what’s at stake.

How the hell are you guys supposed to kill this thing?

The monster screeches, breaking the moment between you and Jonathan, and he flicks his lighter on and forces you to stand behind him. Nancy holds up her gun and you bring your knives closer to your face, Steve standing weaponless behind you.

You all wait, tense, for the monster. It stalks closer to the room, its awful growls alerting you of its proximity, but it doesn’t appear.

“What’s it doing?” Nancy asks, frustrated.

“I don’t know.” You respond, equally as frustrated and scared.

Another few agonizing seconds pass, and you stare at the yo-yo and hope that it remains still. Then, the lights stop flickering and it becomes quiet. All you can hear is your blood roaring in your ears.

Nancy looks around. “Do you hear anything?”

“No,” Jonathan shakes his head, inching closer to the door.

“Wait!” You tug at your still interlocked hands. You pick up his bat that had been thrown on the ground and hand it to him. “Be careful. Please.”

He gives your hand one last squeeze before letting go, accepting the bat.

As Jonathan pokes his head out to see if the monster is outside, Steve bends his head down and whispers in your ear, “Romantic.”

“Shut. Up.” You hit him in the chest, fearfully watching your best friend to make sure he doesn't die. When he motions an all clear, Nancy follows him outside, then you, then Steve.

The house is silent and your heart sinks when you see that the bear trap has been left untouched. You realize with a horrible gut wrench that the monster is smarter than the three of you had anticipated.

So much for your plan, then.

“It’s smarter than we thought.”

“Yeah,” Jonathan agrees with dismay.

He stalks against the wall towards the living room and you all follow in a single file line. You do your best to stick close to the wall but you limp with every step. Your ankle is definitely out of commission for now. Great.

All of you are on edge, waiting for the other shoe to drop. It couldn’t have been that easy, there’s no possible way that the monster simply up and left. You enter the living room, which has gotten even more wrecked due the monster. The wallpaper has been torn off of some parts of the wall and you see papers scattered everywhere.

“Shit…” you mumble, kicking at a shredded wallpaper strip.

In the corner, Steve has started to hyperventilate and mumble to himself. “This is crazy, this is so crazy, this is fucking crazy.”

You limp over to him and grab his shoulders, making him face you. “Steve, hey. It’s okay, I’m here.”

“Y/N, what the hell just happened?”

“It’s… complicated. For now, can you trust me that everything will be okay?”

“Of course I trust you, it’s just…” He nods, his eyes softening. You lessen your hold on him and give him a smile, he seems to be calming down. Then, he looks around the room and seemingly remembers where he is. “This is crazy!”

Steve lunges for the phone on the wall and tries to call for help.

You stumble after him, the pain in your ankle slowing you down. “Steve, wait–”

Nancy gets to him first, grabbing the phone out of his hand and throwing it across the room. He looks at her, shocked. “What are you doing? Are you insane?”

“It’s going to come back!” Nancy yells at him, and you wince at the way she treats him. You know Steve will only listen to her, but she could at least be nicer about the whole situation. The three of you have had some time to process everything happening, Steve was thrown into the deep end.

“You could be a little nicer,” you mumble, and Nancy sends you a glare. You raise your hands up in surrender. “Sorry.”

“Steve, you need to leave. Right now.”

He looks so overwhelmed and you give him a pitying look. He stares at you, reminiscent of the way he looked at you earlier in the alley, silently begging you to say something, anything, but again you can only shake your head at him. You won’t force him to stay, it wouldn’t be fair.

“Y/N, please…” He tries one more time to get you on his side, but you can’t. Frustrated by your lack of response, Steve groans. “Fuck it!”

He runs out the door.

You’ll admit that you’re a bit disappointed, but you also understand. Who in their right mind would stay?

You and Nancy share a look before the lights begin to flicker again. Dread fills you. “Fuck…”

Jonathan is back by your side and he and Nancy again form a triangle with you, all your backs pressed together as you desperately try to locate the monster. You all stumble in a circle, searching for any sign of the thing, but there’s nothing.

“Where is it?” Nancy gasps out.

“Just fucking show yourself!” You shout, just wanting this all to be over with. Your body is drained from living in a state of fear for so long.

“Come on you son of a bitch!” Jonathan echoes your taunts.

Suddenly the lights turn off and you’re left alone in complete darkness. Faintly you can hear the monster’s familiar growl approaching from behind you. The hair on the back of your neck stands up, the air stands still. It’s back. Before you can react, it pounces on Jonathan.

“Jonathan!” You scream alongside Nancy. Desperation takes over you and before you can even process what’s happening, you ignore the pain in your ankle and jump onto its back, stabbing repeatedly at it.

Your blades only bounce off of its thick skin and the monster struggles to get you off. You hold on as tight as you can, shouting and kicking at it so that it can’t hurt him, but then it opens its mouth and for a horrifying moment you’re afraid that Jonathan will die.

“No!” You scream even louder than before and double down on your effort, stabbing and slashing as much as you possibly can to try and create some damage, but your arms are starting to ache and your ankle now feels like it’s on fire.

“Nancy, its skin is too thick!” You sob out, nearing complete exhaustion. Then, just as you’re about to collapse from exhaustion, gunshots fill the room.

Nancy begins to shoot at the monster and with the help of your blades, the two of you manage to pierce its skin, but even then the damage is minimal. It’s not enough, it won’t be enough. Tears stream down your face and the monster only gets closer to Jonathan, so you do the only thing you can think of: you crawl onto the top of its body and stab at its mouth.

The monster lets out a blood curdling scream and flings you off of its back. You go flying across the room and land against the wall with a groan. All the air has been knocked out of you and your ribs are definitely going to be bruised tomorrow. Every part of you aches, but you manage to lift your head up and blearily process the monster now approaching Nancy as she continues to shoot at it, but it remains unphased.

You crawl over to Jonathan, who is still laying on the ground. He’s motionless, and you fight everything within you not to break down and sob. You have to keep going, he has to be alive. As you reach Jonathan and frantically check for a pulse, the monster has now cornered Nancy and her gun seems to be out of bullets.

It’s over. You know it is.

Right as you’ve accepted your fate, a screaming Steve Harrington wielding Jonathan’s bat once again manages to save the day.

He hits the monster with the bat, effectively saving Nancy and you’re so impressed with his batting skills that you almost find him attractive with how easily he hits and dodges the monster. However, you file those thoughts away for later and finally manage to wake Jonathan up. He startles with a gasp and you check over his chest, scared he may have gotten pierced by the monster’s claws.

“I’m fine, we need to help.”

You help each other up and you have to lean heavily against him due to your ankle. You bull riding the monster has only made the sprain worse; you’re too afraid to look down and see the damage that’s been done.

As the two of you hobble over to Nancy, Jonathan looks at you. “Is Harrington really here right now?”

“Yes.”

“Lovely.”

Steve manages to lure the monster closer and closer to the bear trap and you watch him in awe. He’s quick footed and so sure of himself, the complete opposite of the boy from only ten minutes ago who had run out of the house screaming his head off. Now, Steve is swift with his hits and even twirls the bat in his hand to show off. The small act causes you to smile despite the horrible circumstances.

By the time you and Jonathan are up and recovered, Steve has successfully led the monster straight into the trap. It clamps around the monster’s foot and it screeches, flailing around in the trap. Steve still has his bat held up, now frantically looking over to everyone else. “He’s in the trap! He’s stuck!”

“Jonathan, now!” Nancy screams, motioning over at him to use his lighter.

Jonathan listens, using his free hand to flick the lighter on and then drops it onto the ground, right into the trail of gasoline. Immediately the monster goes up in flames, letting out horrible noises. You all shield your faces from the flames and Jonathan pulls you closer into him, still having yet to let go of you; you feel yourself sink into his side as you watch the monster wither away.

“Bug, I have to get the fire extinguisher, do you think you can stand on your own?” Jonathan asks you, his voice soft but urgent.

You quickly nod and brace yourself for his departure. “Yeah, go.”

He lets go of you as gently as possible before running to grab the extinguisher. When he has it, he orders everyone to get back and then smothers the flames. It takes a couple seconds, but eventually the fire gets put out, leaving behind an awful stench that makes everyone cough and gag.

“Holy fuck,” you wheeze out, hunched over. “Burnt monster smells horrible.”

“Yeah, no kidding.” Steve coughs out.

Nancy covers her face with her jacket. “Where did it go?”

“It has to be dead.” Jonathan pants against the wall, looking like he’s three seconds away from passing out. “It has to be.”

“It fucking better be dead.” You mumble, hobbling closer to see what exactly was left behind. When you get closer and see the giant lump of melted skin all over the bear trap, you gag. “Oh god. Yeah, okay. It’s dead.”

Everyone sighs with relief.

Then, you notice a Christmas light above you flicker on. Your heart stops, terrified that the monster has somehow survived, but then a second one turns on, then a third, until a path seems to be guiding you towards the living room.

You all follow, cautious but curious, but these lights don’t feel threatening. There’s an energy to them, a comforting one that leaves you breathless. When you get to the living room, tears form in your eyes, now understanding what this all is. You look at Jonathan, who also seems to be thinking what you are.

It’s Joyce, you know it is.

“Mom,” he breathes out.

You limp over to him and grab his hand. He turns to you, his eyes shining with an appreciation that he only ever has for you. He seems to be drinking you in, as if now realizing just how close the two of you came to dying tonight. You’re doing the same, thankful that he’s alive and standing next to you despite everything. There’s so much the two of you want to say, but as always the words aren’t needed. You understand each other perfectly, the balance between you centered once more.

You put your head on Jonathan’s shoulder and he brings his hand to your hair to softly stroke it. The two of you stand like that for a second, breathing each other in and enjoying the tenderness after such a miserable day, before you slowly break apart and follow the lights going outside.

The porch light flickers and Nancy stands next to you, watching it with uncertainty. “Where’s it going?”

“I don’t think it’s the monster.” Jonathan tells her.

“It’s Will.” You don’t know how you know this, or what makes you feel so certain that you’re right, but somehow you know that you are. Somewhere deep within you, you feel the faint outline of hope flicker.

A new silence surrounds the four of you at your words, and for once there’s hope between you all. Then, after a minute or so of silence, everyone begins to head back inside. Steve first, then Nancy, and finally Jonathan, leaving you alone with the crisp early winter air.

You take a deep breath, the cold air serving as a reminder that you’re alive. You let it fill your lungs until you can’t breathe in anymore, then you release the air through an exhale and feel your body settle into its exhaustion. This is the first time you’ve had a moment to yourself, so you let the exhaustion weigh upon you like a warm blanket.

Will is safe, you can feel it. Despite everything, he’s safe and alive. Jonathan is too, still your best friend regardless of all the unspoken words between the two of you. Dustin is at the school with the kids, away from danger. Everything is okay, it’ll be okay.

You let the moment wash over you, incredibly grateful to be lucky enough to have survived it all. Everyone you love and hold close to you is safe. You didn’t fuck up this time. God, you did it.

Jonathan comes running out after a while, his face alight with joy and he crashes into you and picks you up to twirl you around. You laugh, loud and freely, and bury your face in his hair as he continues. “Bee, stop! Put me down, you dummy!”

He does as he’s told, but doesn’t let go of you once your feet are on the ground. “My mom just called, they saved Will. He–he’s in the hospital, he’s okay.”

You squeal and throw your arms around Jonathan again, squeezing him so hard that you’re afraid you'll hurt him, but he simply laughs and squeezes you just as tight. Tears come again, but this time they’re happy ones, and if it weren’t for your ankle you’d be jumping up and down right now.

Jonathan’s laughter dies down and he cups your chin around his fingers so that you look up at him. “You did it.”

“We did it, bug.” You softly push against him. You can’t take all the credit.

His eyes are shining again, you haven’t seen him this happy in so long, you get lost in it. His face is lit up and his smile is back and you’re so in love with him that it claws against your throat and threatens to spill out in excess.

A beat of silence passes and Jonathan just soaks your presence in. You can’t quite read his face, but for once this doesn’t frighten you. You enjoy it, you relish in the fact that he’s still yours yet now forming into someone new and lovely and wonderful.

“You never gave up.” He whispers at last, adoration in his voice.

“Never.”

“You never left me.”

“Never.” You breathe out, the word so simple with such heavy weight behind it.

The moment is so raw, so tender, and Jonathan is giving you that look again, the one that leaves you feeling like the sun itself has settled upon you and kissed your cheek. His eyes flick down to your lips and you smile, taunting him to lean in. He seems to understand, giving you his own teasing smile before leaning in. You lean in as well, every part of you buzzing, and right before your lips touch his, Steve bursts through the door.

“Jonathan, dude, do you have like, any food in the house?” He asks, completely oblivious to what he��s just interrupted.

You and Jonathan break apart, laughing the tension away. He ducks his head down, clears his throat, and turns to Steve. “Sorry, man. Been a little busy this week for grocery shopping.”

Steve’s eyes bulge out of his head. “Oh shit, right. Sorry, okay. Uh… Well, I’ll be inside, I guess.”

“We’ll be in shortly.” You tell Steve. You want to be frustrated by his timing, but something tells you that you’ll have all the time in the world to tell Jonathan how you feel. Now just isn’t the time.

–

The moment you arrive at the hospital, Jonathan sprints out of the car and straight towards the front desk to find out where Will is. You and Nancy follow behind, figuring you won’t be able to see Will for a while since you’re not blood related, so the two of you wish Jonathan goodbye and head towards the waiting room.

Steve lags behind, obviously unsure where to go. Nancy immediately walks inside, but you notice his hesitation and nudge his shoulder. “I’m sure that the cut on your eyebrow needs to be looked out. Let’s go sit, okay?”

He sighs deeply. “Yeah, sure. Totally. Let’s go sit in a room full of people who probably hate me. No biggie.”

“Either come or don’t.” You shrug. “But the way I see it, you can start mending some metaphorical wounds while you wait in there.”

You don’t wait for Steve to figure out what to do, you know that Dustin is somewhere inside the waiting room and you’re buzzing to see him and the rest of the kids. You hobble inside, still very much in pain due to your injuries, but the moment you see your brother it all fades away.

He runs into your arms and almost knocks you down with the force. Dustin clings onto you, mumbling over and over again how sorry he is.

“Hey, wait a second,” you pull him away and crouch down, groaning a bit at the pain. “What are you sorry about? What happened?”

You look around the room and see everyone there. Nancy, Hopper, the kids, Steve, even Nancy’s parents, but there’s someone missing…

“El,” you breathe out.

Dustin’s lip trembles and he begins to cry. You soothe him, grabbing his hand to bring him over to the seats and sit between him and Mike. Lucas is to the left of Dustin and you can’t help but notice how all the boys have dried tears in their eyes.

When they’re ready, you have the kids explain what happened, and the more they tell you, the more guilty you feel. You should’ve been there for them, you left them all alone with that monster. You got Will back, and yet you’ve lost El as a result. It seems that no matter what you do, it’ll never quite be enough in the end.

“It’s not your fault.” You tell Dustin, who still keeps apologizing. It was you who had left him in charge, you’re why El ended up vanquished by the monster. “You did everything you could. I shouldn’t have left you guys all alone, but I’m proud that you all took care of one another, okay?”

He sniffs and nods his head, but you know he doesn’t believe you. All the boys are somber; you know it’ll take time for them to recover. So, you do what you do best, you console them. You hold their hands and rub their backs and offer your spare comics in your bag. You do whatever you can to comfort them, to reassure them that they’re safe now and that no one will hurt them, but the light in their eyes has dimmed.

They’ll never be the same again.

And El… she had been so young, you don’t think you’ll ever not feel the heavy weight of guilt whenever you think of her. She had been so sweet and had trusted you.

You should’ve been there, you wish you could’ve saved her.

Steve watches from his seat across from you. He listens in as you comfort the boys, taking care of them in such a natural way. He admires this softer side of you, one he hasn’t quite seen before. Sure, you’ve always been gentle and sincere, but watching you with the kids is something special in itself. You manage to get them to laugh, you offer them your shoulder to cry or sleep on, and you read aloud to them stories from your comics and Steve finds himself drawn towards your interactions with the kids.

It’s sweet, something delicate and lovely, and Steve admires everything that you are. When he sees you awkwardly stand up and stumble over to the vending machines in the hall, Steve finds himself following after you.

“Bitch!” You slam the palm of your hand against the vending machine in vain. The bag of chips hangs by the little spiral, taunting you.

“That’s not a very nice word, Henderson.”

You turn and see Steve, leaning against the wall with a fond expression. “You stalking me?”

“Nah, just wanted to watch you fight against a vending machine.”

“Ha,” you snort, turning back to the machine. “Unless you can help me get this last chip bag, you’re free to go sit back down.”

You mean it to be a joke, not expecting Steve to actually listen, but he’s at your side within a second. “Step back, let Steve handle her.”

“What–”

Steve motions for you to move, so you reluctantly do as you’re told. Once you’re out of the way, Steve claps his hands, stretches out his neck, and then begins to aggressively shake the vending machine.

“That is so not what you’re supposed to do–”

Suddenly the bag drops down from the hook and into the retrieval slot. Steve reaches inside, grabs the bag, and then dangles it in the air. “Tada!”

You laugh and grab the bag from him. “Okay, I’ll admit, that was impressive.”

“What can I say? I’m charming like that.”

“Sure,” you smile at him, neither of you have moved yet. He’s still standing in front of you with that cocky smile on his face that’s slowly started to warm on you. You truly do understand why so many girls have fallen for him. If you ever saw Steve on the street, a stranger passing by, you’d fall a little bit in love with him yourself.

The thought startles you. “Well, uh…”

“Yes?” Steve raises his eyebrows at you, smiling.

“Thank you for the chips. The kids haven’t eaten anything in hours, so…” You wave the three bags in your arms. “Gotta keep 'em fed.”

“Wait a second, there’s only three bags there. Aren’t you going to eat anything?”

“I only had enough money for the boy’s chips.” You say, feeling suddenly sheepish. “It’s fine, though. I’ll just eat a few pieces from them and wait until we get home.”

Steve scoffs. “Yeah, no.”

You frown at him, confused as he rustles through his jean pocket and pulls out his wallet. “I don’t want your money–”

He doesn’t listen and simply puts the cash into the vending machine and punches in a few numbers. Slowly, one by one, multiple different bags of sweets and chips come falling down within the machine. Once the last one has dropped, Steve bends down and offers the huge stash to you.

“A feast, on me.” He winks at you and you can’t help but blush.

“T–thanks, I guess.” You now carefully balance the rest of the snacks in your arms, the mound almost blocking your view. You’re not sure how much Steve just paid, but with all these snacks you and the kids will surely be well fed.

Steve shrugs, and if you weren’t so tired you’d think the blush on his face was a real one. “It’s the least I can do, all things considered.”

His words give you pause. You know he’s referencing earlier today, back in the alley where fists slammed against skin and he had dragged you away from your best friend, but the memory feels like years ago. So much has happened since then, Steve has saved your life since then.

“Steve…” Your ankle is starting to sting again from standing for so long, so you adjust your footing and try to figure out what you want to say. “I never got to thank you back at Jonathan’s.”

“Thank me?” His face scrunches in confusion in a sickeningly cute way that it almost distracts you.

“Yes. You saved my life tonight, Steve. I won’t ever forget that.”

“Oh…There’s no need to thank me. I mean, what are friends for?” Steve freezes and clears his throat. “I mean, shit. We aren’t friends, you keep saying that. Sorry. You know what I mean.”

You know you shouldn’t, but you laugh. Honestly, after everything you’ve been through tonight with Steve, how can he possibly think the two of you aren’t friends?

“Why are you laughing?” Steve mumbles, confused.

“Sorry,” you wheeze out, still uncontrollably laughing. “It’s just–I mean, dude! We almost died together, of course we’re friends now!”

“We are?” He looks like a little kid on Christmas day being given the gift he’s always wanted.

Your heart warms. “Yes, idiot.”

Steve starts moving around in what you can only guess is a happy dance. “Sweet! Does this mean I get a cool nickname, too?”

“A nickname?” A bag of chips threatens to fall from your arms, but Steve catches it before it can land on the ground and takes a few more snacks off of your hands.

He readjusts the snacks he now has so that he can carry them easier. “Yeah, I mean. Byers has one, why can’t I?”

You don’t think you’ll ever stop feeling so thrown every time Steve mentions a small detail about you that he’s somehow come to notice. He has a habit of doing that, surprising you by how much he seems to pay attention to you. You thought that no one ever had before, but Steve continues to prove you wrong.

“I’ll tell ya what,” you begin to walk back towards the waiting room, careful to step carefully to not drop anything or upset your ankle. “Let’s see how this ‘friends’ thing works out, then I’ll decide what nickname fits you best. Deal?”

Steve thinks for a moment and follows. “Hmm. I don’t know, I think I’ll need some type of precaution to make sure you give me a nickname in the end. I want one, Y/N. I’m so serious right now.”

You laugh at his pleading tone. “I can add you to my baking list. Whatever I bake, you’ll get a piece of it. Is that better?”

“God, yes!” Steve punches the air and cheers.

You’re smiling so much that your face aches. You haven’t felt this light and carefree in so long, you’d almost forgotten what it’s like. The two of you don’t say anything else as you walk back to the waiting room, though Steve seems to slow down so that you don’t hurt your ankle keeping up, though you still let out a few winces and groans.

When you’ve arrived back at your seat, Steve sets down the snacks and runs off without another word. You’re confused by his sudden departure but don’t think much of it. Instead, you wake the boys up and show them your array of snacks, which wakes them up immediately.

You’re mediating a fight between Mike and Lucas over who gets the bag of Chips Ahoy when a nurse interrupts. “Excuse me, ma’am. This young man over here told me I should come over and check out your ankle?”

The woman smiles and you look past her and see Steve sheepishly waving from his seat across from you. You’re stunned. Had he really gone out of his way to ensure your ankle gets treated?

You shake the thoughts out of your head and inform the woman all she needs to know. You tell her how you’d fallen and what type of pain you feel when you stand up. She inspects the ankle, her fingers cold but kind, and within a few minutes has diagnosed you with a sprained ankle.

“All you can really do is stay off of it for a few weeks while it heals. I can go and get you some crutches, if you’d like?” She asks, rolling her gloves off and tucking them back into her pocket.

You nod. “If you wouldn’t mind, that’d be great.”

The nurse leaves with the promise of being back soon. In the meantime she instructs you to keep your ankle elevated, so you prop it against the coffee table and wait. You’re annoyed that you even have to have crutches, but then you think of Barb, of El. You’re luckier than you should be.

–

After an hour or so, Jonathan opens the door to the waiting room. He spots you and Mike talking softly with each other and whistles over to catch your attention. When Mike looks up, Jonathan nods at him and the boy scrambles out of his seat.

“Guys! Guys! He’s up, Will is up!” Mike shakes awake Lucas and Dustin, who had been cuddling on the seats fast asleep. “Will’s up!”

Once they’re awake, they quickly follow after Mike and the three boys are gone in an instant, sprinting down the hall towards Will’s room. Clearly they’re eager to see their friend.

You do your best to get up as fast as possible, but your new crutches serve more as a nuisance rather than an aid. As you struggle to get up, somehow knocking over the mountain of snacks, Steve rushes over.

He grabs the crutches and offers you his hand. “Here, careful.”

“Thanks,” you awkwardly accept his hand and get up. Jonathan watches from the doorway, a curious look on his face. Nancy does the same from her seat, not saying a word as she watches Steve gently help you navigate the waiting room with your injury.

Jonathan holds the door open for you and takes over once you’re out the door. He grabs the crutches from Steve and is now the one to hold your hand, balancing you. “I can take it from here, Harrington.”

“Right, yeah.” Steve scratches the back of his head and coughs. “I’ll just… yeah.”

He heads back inside and you and Jonathan watch as he leaves. As soon as he’s out of earshot, Jonathan turns to you. “Are you two friends now or something?”

“We almost died tonight, bee. I think it’s safe to call Steve a friend now.”

Jonathan bites his lip, though there’s a far off look in his eye that leaves you feeling like you’ve missed something in the conversation. “Guess that’s true. Anyways, let’s get you to Will.”

By the time you make it to the room, the boys have swarmed around Will and are telling him everything he’s missed this week. He’s listening eagerly as they’re telling him about El, but when he sees you enter the room, his eyes light up and he tries to sit up.

“Y/N!” Will calls out, pure excitement in his voice.

You practically fall over in your haste to get to him. The second you’re close enough, you collapse onto his bed and give him the tightest hug you possibly can without hurting him. He feels so small against you, smaller than he’s ever felt before, and his sunken eyes and pale skin make you want to cry.

But he’s alive and here and in your arms once again, happy and wonderful and safe.

“Little bee,” you try not to cry, but tears are thick in your voice. “I missed you.”

Will manages a weak smile and shrugs, trying to play off the gravity of the situation. “Took a little detour home.”

You laugh and ruffle his hair. “At least you came home, that’s all that matters.”

“Ahem,” Mike obnoxiously clears his throat, effectively ending your moment with Will. “You’re hogging Will, move over.”

You laugh again and move away, allowing the boys to resume their millions of updates. You maneuver your crutches and walk over to Jonathan, who is standing by the door. He’s looking at the boys and Will with a soft smile on his face and you join him, standing side by side as you watch your boys finally come together again.

Then, you feel a pair of eyes on you and you turn around. Nancy is leaning against the doorway behind you; she looks frail and distraught. There’s a sadness in her eyes as she watches the kids. You know that watching the boys reunite with their friend must remind her of Barb. She never got her happy reunion.

You feel awful for the girl, so when her bittersweet smile drops and she turns to leave the room, you nudge Jonathan to make him aware of the situation. He sees her fleeing and begins to follow after her, but he stops.

“What are you waiting for? Go.” You tell him, knowing it’s for the best.

He shifts his weight, uncertain. “Are you sure?”

You’re not sure how to decipher the hidden meanings underneath those three words, but you find that you’re exhausted trying to keep reading between the lines. The feelings you’ve kept buried bubble to the surface, but you remind yourself that he loves Nancy, despite your weird moments of almost with him. There’s something there between you and Jonathan, you both can feel it, but it feels too raw and fragile to bring into the light.

Without having to ask, you know that Jonathan will choose her.

It breaks your heart, but you look over at Dustin and Will, who are laughing about some joke while Joyce gazes at them fondly, and you know that you can’t lose this. Maybe Jonathan knows this, too. The small family you’ve built together, it’s too precious to ruin.

Joyce and your boys, you can’t lose them. They’re yours, and Jonathan is yours in a way that you can’t quite keep to yourself forever, but for now it’s enough. You approach Joyce, grab her hand and give her a tired smile, and the smile she returns to you reminds you that this is more than enough for you.

You turn to Jonathan, pushing down your feelings once more in favor of appreciating the fact that Will is looking at you again, alive. “Go, bee.”

Jonathan gives you one last look. You study his face for a moment, watching as it shifts from confusion, to hurt, then finally into acceptance. You’ll never be sure of what exactly he’d been thinking in that moment, but it seemed to have been enough for him, too.

He smiles, lets out a deep breath, and then leaves.

The door closes softly behind him.

–

A month later you find yourself in the passenger seat of Jonathan's car, tired from your shift at Bookstrordinary but excited to pick up your brothers. Somehow, even after missing three consecutive shifts last month, Mrs. Waters refused to fire you.

But Jonathan? He hadn’t been so lucky. His boss fired him from the Hawk, but he hadn’t been too upset. He still drives you to and from work, so you suppose things could be worse.

It’s late, but the two of you take your time driving to the Wheeler’s. Nothing much has changed between you two following Will’s reappearance. Sure, maybe you’re at his house more just to make sure Will is adapting well, but besides that everything seemed to go back to normal.

Well, almost normal.

Steve appeared at your job a few days after your conversation in the hospital. He had surprised you when you walked in, and when you asked what he was doing in a bookstore, Steve simply shrugged and said, “You can’t figure out my nickname if we don’t hang out, right? So, I’m here.”

He had become a regular at the store, stopping by whenever he could, and slowly the two of you became good friends. You’ve come to enjoy Steve’s presence, something that you never thought would ever happen. But he keeps you company as you work, he wanders around and explores the comics and books you recommend to him, and it’s nice having someone to goof off with.

Plus, you did promise to add him to your baking list, so he’s also become your taste tester who happily eats any creation you bring in for him.

As for Nancy…

That was more of a sore subject for Jonathan.

There was a few weeks following Will’s reappearance that you thought Jonathan and Nancy would get together, but it never happened. You’re not quite sure why, maybe it had something to do with Jonathan’s hesitation of approaching her, but it had crushed him when you and he saw Nancy and Steve making out in the hall as if nothing bad had ever happened.

The way Jonathan’s face crumbled when he saw the couple only solidified that he’d never be yours, but you comforted him anyways. You told him he deserved better and then dragged him away. It’d taken him a few days, but eventually Jonathan was able to fake a smile again.

You haven’t spoken about it since that day, but you leave your window open most nights for him to crawl in. The nightmares from that night fighting the monster plague you both, and the loneliness feels a little heavier than usual, but at least you have each other.

“Jonathan! Y/N! Come in, the boys are downstairs.” Mrs. Wheeler answers the door, letting the two of you in. “And Y/N, I love that sweater on you.”

You thank the woman. “It was a gift from my mom. She claims I need to up my wardrobe, whatever that means.”

“Well, I think she has lovely taste.”

“I’ll let you know you think so!” You open the basement door and motion for Jonathan to go down first.

When he reaches the bottom of the steps, Jonathan makes a face. “Woah, what’s that smell? Have you guys been playing games all day, or just farting?”

“My vote is farting.” You say, hopping down the last step. Your ankle has mostly healed by now, but sometimes if you land on it wrong it makes a weird clicking noise followed by some pain, but you choose to pretend that it’s normal.

The boys laugh and Lucas points at your brother. “Oh, that’s just Dustin. He farted.”

He begins making fart noises with his mouth and you and Dustin share a look. “Very mature, Lucas.”

The boy continues to sing and make fart noises and you can’t believe that this is your life. You’re standing in a smelly basement while picking up your stubborn brother all while simultaneously enjoying the fact that you get to call this your life.

Jonathan calls over to Will to grab his things, so you follow suit and gently berate Lucas. “Alright, that’s enough. I gotta get Dustin home.”

“What, I thought I got to stay–”

“Jonathan is our ride and I made cookies, so let’s go.”

The moment the word “cookies” leaves your mouth, Dustin hops up and collects his things without any further argument.

Once he’s ready, he and Lucas play wrestle as they say goodbye. While they’re distracted, you walk over to Mike and discreetly hand him a container full of double fudge brownies. You’d specifically made them for him, knowing they were his favorite, because you noticed how hard it’s been for him to adjust to El being gone. He really cared about her, anyone could see that.

Mike’s eyes widen and he throws his arms around you. “Thanks, Y/N.”

You pat his back. “Anytime, Wheeler.”

Dustin breaks away from Lucas and runs up the stairs, so you take that as your cue to leave.

Upstairs, Jonathan and Will are talking to Mrs. Wheeler. When they see you enter, the woman turns to you and asks if you’ll be bringing over your usual round of holiday treats. “Of course, I’ll get started on them tomorrow. You guys still like the sugarbread cookies?”

“If you make them, I think I’ll die of happiness.” Mrs. Wheeler informs you, and you laugh and tell her that you’ll have them ready as soon as possible.

You bid her goodbye, Dustin now by your side, and you follow Jonathan and Will to the front door. Right before you open the door, Nancy calls Jonathan’s name from the top of the stairs.

“Hey, Jonathan, wait up!”

You, Dustin, and Will stand awkwardly in the back while Nancy hands Jonathan a wrapped gift and wishes him a merry Christmas. They share an awkward exchange since Jonathan hadn’t gotten her anything, but Nancy assures him that it’s fine. The interaction is painful to watch as Nancy doesn’t spare you a single glance. Dustin and Will look at you uncertainly when she kisses Jonathan’s cheek, but you ignore them and pretend to be interested in a Christmas decoration on the table.

This will never get any easier.

“You ready?” Jonathan turns back to you guys, a blush on his face, and all you can do is silently nod.

In the car you sit in the back with Dustin, who squeezes your arm in reassurance. He’s come to understand your complex feelings for Jonathan and has pieced together Nancy’s involvement. While he’s never outright consoled you, he’s shown his support in other small and wonderful ways.

“Thanks,” you whisper, and Dustin smiles.

“We all buckled up?” Jonathan asks as he starts up the car.

“Yes, captain.” You mock salute.

Will giggles at you before he sees the gift and looks up at Jonathan. “Can I open it?”

“Yeah, sure.”

You and Dustin lean forward so you can see what’s in the box. When Will unwraps a beautiful, and no doubt expensive, camera, you gasp. The bitterness and hurt from moments ago vanishes. This gift is from Steve, you know it is, and something warm settles deep within your bones.

You think about last month, how you’d told him not everyone can just afford a camera.

Seems like Steve listened.

Maybe he isn’t so bad after all.

–

A week later you knock on the Byers’ door, a giant container of your annual holiday cookies in your arms.

“Bug!” Jonathan answers the door with an excited smile on his face. His new camera is in his hands and before you can even process what’s happening, he’s already taken a photo of you with your crooked earmuffs and oversized box of cookies.

He’s been using the camera ever since he got it. There’s now multiple pictures of you, always unaware or caught off guard, now hanging in the kitchen. It makes you blush to think about.

“You didn’t even give me a chance to smile.” You complain, shoving your way inside. It’s snowing and you’re freezing.

Joyce grabs the container to help you as soon as she sees you. “Here, honey. I’ve got it.”

You thank her and walk over to Will, who is drawing at the kitchen table. “Hey little bee. Whatcha drawing?”

“Hi, Y/N.” He slides over his picture and you’re shown a quick sketch of you and the party, this time fighting what appears to be a misshapen dog. “It’s a Dire Wolf, we’re fighting it in our latest campaign.”

“Ah, I see. Looks fluffy, though. Can’t possibly be a dangerous creature.”

Will rolls his eyes at you. “This is why you don’t play with us.”

“Careful, you’re sassing the girl who has just bravely ridden her bike through the snow to deliver her famous Christmas cookies.”

Will is out of his seat in an instant, running over to his mom, who has just placed the container on the counter. “Did you make the oatmeal raisin cookies?”

“Duh,” you snort.

“And the chocolate chip?”

“I sure did.” You stand next to him and point at a new cookie you’re trying out this year. “This batch is a caramel banana one. Steve seemed to like it and I think it’s pretty good, so I hope you do too.”

Jonathan swoops over and kisses your head. “Of course we’ll like it, bug.”

“He’s right, you know. We always love whatever you make us, honey.” Joyce informs you, her mouth now full of cookies.

“I’d hope so, this is like my fifth year making these for you guys. It’d be awkward if you hated my baking.” You say, now securing your earmuffs back on your head. “Anyways, I should get going. It’s Christmas, my mom won’t want me out too long.”

Joyce looks out the window and frowns. “Did you really bike here in this weather?”

“It wasn’t too bad, I’ll be fine–”

“No. Jonathan, grab your keys and drive Y/N home.” She stares you down, daring you to argue with her, but you don’t. You know better than to argue with Joyce Byers.

Once Jonathan has his keys, you say goodbye to everyone and wish them a merry Christmas. Jonathan throws your bike in his trunk and soon you’re off on the road. The drive is quiet but cozy. The snowflakes fall in a pretty spiral and there’s a soft song playing on the radio.

Sometimes, if you close your eyes, you can pretend that the events from last month never happened. Will never disappeared. You never discovered that you love Jonathan. Nancy Wheeler never became friends with Jonathan, possibly something more had there been more time. When you close your eyes and sit still, you can imagine that your brother never has nightmares that wake him up screaming. That your heart doesn’t hurt when you make your best friend laugh.

For a moment, you can forget.

“Can we always stay like this?” You ask Jonathan softly, almost as if you’ll disturb the peace that winter has brought with its quiet snow.

“Like what?”

You’re not sure how to express what you’re feeling. “This, us. Together.”

“Of course we’ll always stay like this.” He grabs your hand, bringing it to his lips to kiss it. He says this like it’s a fact, the most obvious thing in the world.

“Pinky promise me.” You hold your pinky up. You know it’s silly, but you need him to hear you, to understand what you’re saying.

Jonathan looks over at you. “Y/N–”

“Please, promise me, bee.”

He’s silent for a moment, seeming to understand the weight of everything between, around, and within the two of you. Then, he extends his pinky finger and wraps it around yours. “I promise, bug.”

And you believe him.

[END OF SEASON 1]

⌑ series masterlist

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taglist: @siriuslysmoking @sheisjoeschateau @myeclispedsun @innercreationflower @juhdoche @frostandflamesfanfic @goosy-goose @quinnsadilla @munsons-queen @stefansring

#steve harrington x henderson!reader #steve harrington x reader #steve harrington x you #stranger things #steve harrington fanfic #stranger things rewrite #slowburn #angst #wdtai #m's writing #im so tired n happy and full of love for u all #cannot believe its done :')#pls pls pls enjoy <333

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kvtie444 · 4 months

Text

⋆‧₊˚ TEACHERS PET .7

summary: Reader has a new teacher and finds herself falling for him blahblahblah teachers pet by melanie vibes xoxo ouch.

・₊✧⋆⭒˚｡⋆

July became the somber conclusion. The spring, filled with the blossoming of love, now felt like a cruel illusion. Despite his professed love, I questioned the authenticity of our connection. Winter's usual melancholy paled in comparison to the new depths of summer depression. With school out, I languished in bed, nursing self-pity.

The school board granted me permission to stay due to my high grades and this being my first school issue. Yet, the purpose seemed lost without Matt. My room echoed with the loud hum of the fan as I scrolled through my phone - 2 missed calls from Madi, 4 from Mum, 1 from Dad, none from Matt.

I had no motivation or energy to go back home for summer break. I craved this town's familiar embrace, knowing Matt was still in the same place as me. Comfort came in waves, even though the worst part was that I didn't hate him - I still loved him.

Swiping off from calls, I checked the weather app - today marked a heatwave, the hottest in a decade. Amazing. I groaned and decided it was time to do something. Self-pity couldn't be my refuge. I texted Madi:

To Madi F What are you doing today?

From Madi F Hey girl!! Missed u <3 Some of the girls and I are having a little bonfire tonight. It starts at 7 if you wanna come? x

To Madi F I'd love to :))

Madi F liked your message

From Madi F Would you mind picking up some 6 packs, please? I'll send you the money. We're all just setting up rn x

To Madi F Of course, don't worry about it x

I sigh and get up, opting for a cold shower to refresh myself. The cold water soothes my weary body, and after that, I change into a crop top, shorts, and trainers. Walking through the familiar park on my way to the grocery store, I notice the leaves, once orange and crisp, have turned green. Birds chirp from the trees, the grass is lush, and the sky remains cloudless — a comforting sight.

Upon reaching the grocery store, I grab a trolley and head straight to the back where the alcohol is stocked. Loading up with a couple of packs and bottles, I make my way to check out, fanning myself as I wait in the blistering heat. After paying and bagging up the drinks, I exit to the car park, realising there's no way in hell I could carry all these bags home in this heat. Groaning, I push my trolley through the car park, undeterred by the curious gazes of onlookers. Sweating, I finally reach my building and head inside, trolley still in hand.

˚₊‧꒰ა ☆ ໒꒱ ‧₊˚

"3, 2, 1, go!"

I smile, watching our friends shotgun their beers around the bonfire in the middle of our circle. Perched on a refurnished log turned into a bench, I swirl my drink in a red solo cup and take a sip. Madi wraps an arm around me, "smileee" she chimes, she holds up her digital camera. I oblige, looking at the cute photo of us – me in a white mini skirt co-ord and her in black shorts and a cami. Downing my drink, I decide to get a refill.

"I'm getting a top up," I tell Madi, walking back to the makeshift bar area she set up (a cheap, fold-up table and half-empty drinks). I pour vodka into my cup, attempting not to spill it in my drunken state, when murmurs catch my attention.

"Yeah, she was screwing her professor for better grades." "Damn, I would too, to be fair. He was fine."

I whip my head around, giving the gossiping girls a stern look. "The fuck did you just say?" I speak up, liquid courage taking control over my body. The eyes around the fire pit turn towards us.

"What? That you were sleeping with your teacher?" the ringleader says, cocking her head.

"What's it to you? Just because the only dick you can catch is from some lowlife frat boy with more STDs than you can count," I spit back, kissing my teeth. "So obsessed and for what," I continue, rolling my eyes. Others come over, standing between us to calm things down, pulling me away.

"Yeah, that's what I thought, bitch!" the other girl yells as they retreat. "Watch when I see you again!" I shout back before Madi pulls me inside.

"Y/n, let's get you some water, okay?" she says softly, leading me to the kitchen. I perch on the island, trying to maintain my balance. She brings me a cup of water, and I sip on it.

"Stay here for a second, okay?" Madi leaves the room briefly. I struggle to focus, my head spinning. I'm so fucked up, and all I can think about is how much I miss Matt. He doesn't even work at the school anymore. What are they going to do? Not let me speak to someone who has nothing to do with my college anymore. I take out my phone, wrestling to unlock it, eventually succeeding. I go to texts and send him a message. fuck it.

To Matt S I miss you.

・₊✧ Matt pov ˚｡⋆

From Y/N I M IF DDD YOY

I gaze at my phone, attempting to decipher her message. She's clearly drunk. Is she alone? Is she safe? Is she with strangers? Shit.

For a moment, I stare at the screen, wrestling with the internal conflict. Ending things with her was one of the hardest things I had to do, especially seeing her in this state – shattered, pleading for me to stay. It was a sacrifice for her future, ensuring she could stay in school, earn a degree, and build a happy life. Not a day goes by where I don't think of her – waking up, reaching for her, preparing meals for two, driving past her building. She was my oxygen. I'd rather die than be the one hurting her. But I needed to.

Fuck it, I can't handle this. I dial her number. After three rings, she answers. Silence. "Y/n?" I say. "Hey," she replies. Her voice, I've missed it so much. "Are you okay?" I ask. "Why didn't you call me?" she slurs. My heart breaks even more. I sense the sadness in her words. "Y/n, where are you? Are you safe?" I attempt to steer the conversation. She sighs and sniffs. "I'm at a friend's, but I don't want to stay here. It's gone to shit. Everything's gone to shit," she mumbles. Sighing, I rise from my spot on the sofa. "Send me your location; I'm on my way."

・₊✧⋆⭒˚｡⋆

tag list !!

@iloveneilperry @bernardenjoyer @daddyslilchickenfingers @mbbsgf @sturnvilmed @s1urnioloslvr @mattsbratt @mangoposts @christinarowie332 @recklesssturniolo @bluesturniolo333 @flowerxbunnie @kenzieiskoolaid @pepsiskiess @poopydroopt @byechristopher @solarsturniolo @m6ttsturniolo @lustfulslxt @stardustmf444 @thankyounextt @glossyfx @bellasturniolo @justurniolos @cl0esblogg @strumbolisworld @strniolosworld @chrisloyalgf @aliyahsbody @spideylovin @justangelheree @sturnioloenthusiast @nickmillersn1gf @soursturniolo@bernardenjoyer@stuniolobbg @luv4kozume@luvmxtt@urmommysbathroom@lexisecretaccx

#Spotify #matt sturniolo #matthew sturniolo #matt sturniolo x reader #chris sturniolo #chris sturniolo x reader #sturniolo triplets #nick sturniolo #smut #fluff #angst

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somehow-a-human · 1 month

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Whose POV is it Anyway?

The End?

DO NOT ASK NEIL ABOUT FAN THEORY

We're here. We did it. We made it to the final episode. I'm so proud of us.

For reference & context, I recommend reading these posts:

Whose POV is it Anyway? - Introduction

POV "Your 'Something's Wrong' Voice"

POV a Trip to Hell and a 25 Lazarii Miracle

POV a Companion to Owls

POV The Dirty Donkey & I think I Found a *Clue*!

POV Bodysnatchers & Cosplaying a bookseller

POV 1941

POV The Ball

Lens Filters

Lets fuckin go baybee.

Up until the demons are accidentally allowed into the bookshop, the filter is clearly still the warm and hazy Bronze Glimmerglass of Aziraphale's POV. This is clearly visible after the demons enter and Aziraphale activates the portal. When viewing the top down shots, Aziraphale/Maggie/Nina's side is warm and golden toned, and the demons side is cold and green.

As the bookshop battle commences the lighting gets cooler and cooler toned as the demons move farther into the bookshop. The lighting is still warm around Aziraphale when he removes his halo, but once it's blown up, we've instantly lost the warm glow and everything is now cool and dark toned.

Throughout Crowley's entire stint in heaven with Muriel, the lighting is cool and bright, and Crowley's sideburns are long. I'm going to give this an inconclusive POV.

When Crowley comes back to the bookshop with the archangels the lighting is still cooler, I would say its most similar to the Black Diffusion FX (BDFX) filter, however there is a fair bit of haziness so it may also be the Black Pro Mist (BPM) filter, and his sideburns are still long.

Gabriel then recovers his memories. And I think this next bit is key when we think of the filters.

The first memory we see is the Tadfield aribase. I did go back and compare this scene to season 1 and it is a fair bit more saturated and warmer toned than it was graded in season 1. I would say that's because Gabriel is now remembering this memory through his lens of how he now views Beelzebub.

The Russian Cafe memory is next, and the scene is very green toned, dark and cool. It reminds me clearly of the Black Pro Mist filter often used for Hell.

The American Bar memory is not nearly as dark, but still a bit cool toned and saturated. I'd say this one uses the Black Diffusion FX filter.

The Resurrectionist Pub is warm, golden, and hazy with fuzzy halos around the lights & I believe we're seeing it through the Bronze Glimmerglass filter.

3 stages of their relationship. Strangers at odds, then cautiously on the same page, then optimistically absorbed in their love for one another.

We return to present day scenes in the bookshop and these are all cool toned, and I would say in the BDFX filter.

... and I'm pretty sure the filter doesn't change the entire rest of the episode. The debate about Gabriel and Beelzebub, the conversation with the Metatron, the final 15. It stays the same, and Crowley's sideburns remain long. And I'm also going to give it an inconclusive POV label. We've reached some sort of equilibrium?

Don't worry, I'm ending this post here, but I'm following it up with my conclusion, and you don't even have to wait to read it! There's too much to summarize my feelings after writing these analysis at the end of this one post, it deserves it's own thing!

NEXT Whose POV is it Anyway - a Conclusion

#good omens #good omens 2 #michael sheen #aziraphale #good omens meta #crowley #david tennant #crowley x aziraphale #good omens theories #good omens clues #ineffable spouses #ineffable mystery #ineffable husbands #ineffable idiots #ineffable divorce #ineffable fandom

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positively-mine · 4 months

Text

Come back to me

your return from styx gives Ace the final push he needed

tags: gn!reader, established crush on reader, spoilers: book 6, ch 82 and touchy ace

A/n: stayed true to my word this time 🫡 how ace responds to mc and grim returning tickled something in me so I needed to write a long post abt it :)

lmk if there's any mistakes!

"y/n! Griiim!" The Adeuce duo speeding down the field to where everyone's standing.

"Heya Ace! Deuce!" Grim responds happily from your arms.

You too acknowledge their arrival, "Hey guys, we're back!"

"DON'T "HEY GUYS" ME, YOU ABSOLUTE BLOCKHEAD." Ace screamed while barreling towards you.

He showed no sign of stopping and collided into you. Both you and Ace tumbled onto the field, and Grim flying out of your hands and onto the field beside you. Ace ended up straddling you, with his hands placed at the back of your head and back to prevent you from getting hurt.

Opening your mouth, ready to scold him when he bonks you and Grim hard on your heads.

"OW! Why'd you smack me too?!" Grim yelps beside you.

You clutched your head as well, groaning in pain.

"Shaddup! Be grateful I'm lettin you off easy!" He gets up, and takes your hands to pull you up as well.

Despite Ace's rather harsh treatment, there was concern in his eyes.

"Huh?!" Grim pipes up from beside you.

Deuce walks up to you and gives you a one over before he begins talking, "When we woke up, everyone was freaking out about you, Rook and Epel being gone."

Mumbling, Ace added on, "We figured you were with them..."

"But all anyone told us was that your phones were off, and that the teacher's tracking spells couldn't find you!"

"Well I couldn't sit here and do nothing..," you try to defend yourself.

Deuce looked exasperated and Ace...looked like he was about to start shouting at you again.

***

After everyone had made their appearance and reunited, although there was lots of shouting here and there, everyone made their way back to their dorms.

Ace didn't follow the heartslabyul group. Instead, he followed behind you and grim.

The trek back to Ramshackle was spent in silence from both you and Ace, minus the ranting that came from Grim.

Ace reached out and grabbed onto your wrist gently, effectively stopping you from taking another step.

"Grim, go ahead first. I needa talk to y/n about something first."

"Hagh? But whos going to open my can of tunas?" He piped up angrily beside you.

"Sheesh seriously," Ace ruffled his hair aggressively. "I'll give you 3 cans of tuna if you leave right now!"

"Deal!"

Grim ran up the path and into your dorm.

You turn back to face him.

During the time you were gone, Ace couldn't sit still for even a second. The fear of not knowing where you were and how you were doing was eating him alive.

He wished you had told him or left even some form of explanation as to where you went. He was worried sick.

Tightening his hold on your wrist, he moved to face you directly.

"y/n, do you like me?"

You're taken aback by his straight forwardness. Not wanting to jump to conclusions, you chose the safest option.

"Of course I do. If not, I wouldn't have tolerated you this long." You tease him to ease the tension that's building up.

"You know that's not what I mean." His stare bore into your soul.

Intertwining your fingers together, he looks back up to you and says the words that you've been wishing to hear.

"y/n, I like you. I hate the feeling of not being able to help you, console you in your darkest times and love you." A blush spreads across his cheeks. "So please, don't torture me anymore..." His voice trails off and you can't resist the looks he's giving you.

Just like before, he's pulling you in with his charm. His eyes reflecting the desperation and anxiousness of your answer.

Pulling his other hand to intertwine with yours, you move closer and give a peck to his cheek.

"You know I can't say no to you."

Giving you the biggest smile ever, he pushes his lips to yours. His hands circling around you to pull you as close as he can to his body.