#and how i used to always cry at that scene but now i tear up just thinking about it
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Why Deny?
Part 15
Previous part here
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The next day at work moved along painfully slowly. Y/N had spent the majority of the day in her office, planning and reciting what she was going to say to Leonard, trying to prepare herself to be able to get through it without crying.
When she arrived at the restaurant they’d agreed to meet at for dinner that night, Leonard was waiting for her near the host stand, and as he slipped his arm around her waist and lovingly pressed a kiss to her temple as they waited to be seated, she could already feel the tears pricking behind her eyes.
But she had to do it here. This way, Leonard couldn’t make too much of a scene. She encouraged him to go ahead, saying she needed to use the restroom and would meet him at the table. Once he was out of sight, Y/N spoke to the hostess and asked that she tell their waiter not to disturb them, and that they would let her know when they were ready to order. After lingering for another moment, Y/N headed into the dining area, spotting Leonard and walking over to the table. She was relieved to see it was in a slightly more secluded spot than some of the other tables, and as she sat down, she took a deep breath before looking at Leonard.
“How are you feeling?” he asked her, their eyes meeting.
“Fine,” she lied, the agony of what she was about to do crushing her heart.
Leonard could tell. He always knew when she was lying, and he furrowed his brow as he looked back at her.
“What’s wrong?”
Taking another deep breath, Y/N briefly looked down at her lap, collecting herself before she met his eyes once more.
“Leonard, I...I’ve decided I’m keeping the baby.”
As what she said registered with him, Leonard felt a sense of pride, as well as adoration for Y/N, begin to run through him. Looking at her, the hint of a smile crossed his face, and Y/N didn’t miss it. She felt another stab to her heart.
“Ok,” he said to her, trying not to react too much and overwhelm her. He reached across the table and grabbed her hand. “Then we’re in this together.”
Y/N let him hold her hand for a moment, but then she forced herself to pull away. As she looked at him again, she shook her head.
“We can’t be,” she replied.
Leonard frowned.
“What?”
“We can’t do this, you and me.”
Leonard shook his head.
“What are you talking about?”
She took another deep breath.
“Leonard, this’ll never work. You have no idea what you’re signing up for when you say you’d be ok with this. It’s easy to think that way when the baby is still just an idea, but that’s not who you are, and a kid changes everything. You’re gonna realize that once it’s too late, and then you’ll just end up hating me for this because I backed you into a corner. It’s all my fault that this happened.”
Staring back at her, Leonard had no words.
“I can’t...” she paused for a moment, blinking back tears. “I can’t bear the thought of you hating me, and if we stay together, inevitably, you will. And by then, it’ll just make a break-up even more painful, and then you’ll resent the baby, too. We should just end it now and agree to remain amicable. I’m giving you an out.”
At this point, Leonard couldn’t believe what he was hearing, but when she talked about ending things, he spoke.
“I could never hate you,” he said. “And if you think a baby is going to cause that, you’re dead wrong. Y/N, I want you and this baby. I don’t want an out.”
She shook her head.
“You don’t know what you’re saying.”
“Don’t tell me what I do and don’t know,” Leonard responded, his anger rising. “Why do you always do this? Hm? Why are you always second guessing us? Assuming the worst?”
“You’ll be angry for a while, but you’ll get over it, and then you’ll realize I did you a favor,” she said, not answering his question.
“Do you seriously think I’m gonna let you pull this?” he said.
“You can still know the baby, be involved here and there,” she continued, still ignoring his comments, “but I’m not going to saddle you with being a full-on father. You’ll thank me, eventually.”
Before Leonard could say anything else, Y/N stood from her chair and buttoned her coat.
“Where the hell do you think you’re going?” he said as he looked up at her.
“I’ll see you at work on Monday,” she said, and with that, she turned and began to walk away towards the entrance.
Still floored, it took Leonard a moment to realize she was leaving, and he then quickly rose from his chair and followed after her. She’d already made it out the door and was about to hail a cab when Leonard strode up behind her and pulled her back from the curb. As she gasped and then looked up at him, he saw the tears running down her cheeks, and he pulled her closer.
“I’m not letting you do this,” he said to her.
“It’s my choice, remember?” Y/N replied. “You said so yourself.”
“About whether or not to keep the baby,” he said.
“Right,” she responded, trying to look matter-of-fact, “and this is what goes with keeping it.”
“So, you’ve just made these decisions for the both of us? You think you’ve got it all figured out, do you?” he said bitterly.
“You told me in the beginning that if I truly felt it was best to walk away, that you’d let me,” Y/N said.
Leonard narrowed his eyes at her.
“Don’t pull that shit. You know this isn’t what I meant.”
“That’s what you said,” Y/N replied, the tears still slipping from her eyes. “And this is for the best.”
“Y/N...” Leonard began.
But instead of letting him say anything more, Y/N reached up and softly placed her hands on his cheeks, holding his face as she leaned forward and placing her lips on his in a final kiss. It took everything she had to pull away from him, and when she did, Leonard just stared at her, speechless. She then stepped away and reached for the door handle of the cab that was waiting at the curb.
“I’m sorry,” she said to him over her shoulder as their eyes met one last time.
Then she opened the door and climbed into the cab, and Leonard watched as the taillights disappeared around the corner.
@xsweetcatastrophe @nyxxie-pooh @febris-amatoria @hannibellector @natalie--rushman
@aphroditeslover11 @garrison-girl-08 @devotedlyshadowytheorist @fuseburner @beastofburdenxo
@alltoowellbeneaththemangotree @neonpurplestars89-blog
#leonard miller fic#leonard miller smut#leonard miller x reader#leonard miller#cillian x y/n#cillian murphy#cillian x fem!reader#cillian fic#cillian murphy smut#18+ only
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oh there's something particularly painful about my mister in that dong hoon tells ji an that as long as no one knows, it's no big deal, and there's something particularly painful about how ji an tells dong hoon that sometimes, i want [my secret] to play out on big screens for everyone to see, and there's something particularly painful about how the second dong hoon meets the loan shark tormenting ji an, he starts screaming and yelling about how she's just a kid, how could you do that to a kid, and there's something particularly painful about how dong hoon doesn't even let ji an know he did that, but ji an knows. she knows because she was listening in the entire time and she just starts crying because someone actually knows this ugly, sad part of her and still took her side, and something particularly painful about how my mister started with as long as no one knows, it's no big deal but really concludes with there is so much risk in having someone know who you are but there's also so much comfort and peace to be found in that, too and maybe you shouldn't isolate yourself and maybe you should reach for that kind of comfort in being known and loved anyways
#caroline talks#my mister#if this is incoherent. it should be#rewatched the first 2.5 episodes of my mister last night#felt like crying my eyes out the entire time tbh!!#every time i watch this show there's just something about it that hurts me more and more and there's something that makes the messages#in this show feel more and more relevant#idk. thinking a lot about when ji an talks about how sometimes she wishes. sometimes she wishes#that everyone knew what she'd done and what had been done to her.#something about how ji an can't ever bring herself to connect truly with another person because of how much she hates#the feeling of people realizing what her past looks like#and not wanting to withstand the pity and also horror. like. okay.#something about ji an sobbing by the bridge when she listens to dong hoon pummeling that loan shark guy#and how i used to always cry at that scene but now i tear up just thinking about it#because you know! there's that shock (that firstly: someone knows your miserable secret. and secondly: they're still on your side)#and then absolute heartache because you don't know what to do with that information. you didn't expect it.#you're sobbing at a bridge because someone knows who you are and someone knows the scars of your past and still gets angry and sad for you.#and you still feel like you don't deserve it because you know deep down you are not a very good person (or so you tell yourself).#and. oughough. lee ji an holds such a place in my miserable little heart
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✩ ‧₊˚ ✩。i know you still think about the times we had
synopsis. satoru will always comes when you call him, he just never thought you’d stop calling
— word count. 5.2k (where did i go wrong)
— contents. college au, rich boy! gojo, break ups and make ups <3, it’s the cliche trope where the rich guy’s parent forces you to leave him aka gojo’s father is the villain, angst with a happy ending—i don’t want my cause of death to be angry rb! gojo stans, emo gojo ft. marvin’s room (iykyk), cliche rain scene—this fic is so cliche i’m sorry, reader is gn! but gojo is mentioned to like pics of girls on instagram (he was being petty)
— notes. well, it finally happened. the long awaited break up. this one’s for you niku 🤞🏽 AND DABITEE ANON
you open the door when satoru knocks—just barely, though. it’s just enough to hand him the bag with the remaining things he’s left at your apartment. it feels familiar, being here, but it feels so different too. it’s always been happy knocking on your door—he never thought he’d dread letting his knuckles meet the cool wood. it’s like taking the last bite of something sweet when you’re too full. when the sugar is too decadent on your tongue and your head spins and your stomach twists and it’s too much even though it used to be so good.
it’s too much being here. it’s too much trying to meet your gaze and get nothing in return. it’s too much being handed back that sweater he basically let you keep. and yet, it’s good to see you. he wants nothing more than to be here with you, wherever you are, even if you don’t want him to stay.
“that should be everything,” you murmur, still looking down. “let me know if there’s anything missing.”
satoru would never tell you if there’s something missing. he’d never come back and demand back something he gave you, he doesn’t think he could ever take back something he gave you—being handed back his heart after pressing it to your palms is hard enough. but then again, maybe he should look for small things you probably missed. just so he can come back. just so he can see you—how else will he see you now?
“no, it’s alright,” he says quietly. he doesn’t miss the way you quickly let go as soon as his hands grab the bag, almost like you’re being careful enough not to let your fingers meet each other. “you can uh…you can just keep them. or…throw them out if you don’t want them,” he mumbles.
you nod, standing there silently. it’s quiet, and then it’s quiet some more. and finally, you look up at him for the first time since he got here, staring at him a little expectantly. oh, right. now would be the part where he leaves.
“can i…can i just know why?” he croaks. fuck. he’s not supposed to cry. you ripped his heart out and threw it at his feet, you didn’t even care to hand it to him even after you tore every artery apart. but he sniffles anyway, lips wobbling as he stares at you. “why are you leaving me?”
your fingers twitch, like you itch to reach over and wipe that tear that rolls down his cheek. in the end, you cross your arms instead. “i already told you, satoru—”
“that’s bullshit,” he clicks his teeth, shaking his head as he stares at you frustratedly, “you gave me some bullshit reason.”
satoru has worked so hard to be here—to be with you. hadn’t he done enough? hadn’t he told you about himself, things he didn’t want to? hadn’t he tried to become something, someone more than just a guy swimming in trust funds? hadn’t he worked for your attention, waited outside classes and walked opposite directions in the hall with you just to seem dedicated? fuck, he even burned his hand trying to learn how to make pancakes to impress you, let the maids laugh at him as he twisted the stove the wrong way to try and turn it on.
why wasn’t it enough? what more could he give you than everything? how can the guy who has everything not have enough to give? he doesn’t understand.
“satoru, we weren’t gonna work,” you pinch your nose—it’s like you’re the one who doesn’t understand why he’s being like this. “the sooner you accept that the more hurt you’re saving the both of us—”
“we were working just fine,” he says exasperatedly. it’s like you insist he’s crazy when he’s nothing but sane. like he’s trying to tell you the sky is blue, and you’re refusing to believe it’s anything other than green. it’s clear. it’s practically a fact. you were doing just fine—why don’t you see that? “we were happy,” he takes a step forward and cups your cheeks, pressing his forehead to yours, “was it someone? did they tell you something? just tell me who, baby—i’ll fix it. i’ll put them in their place, okay? no one can bother you if i get them to leave you alone—”
“then you leave me alone,” you whisper. he stills. you pull away from his hands. “sator—gojo. please just leave me alone. it’s better that way.”
you close the door, and he stands there. numb. maybe a little shocked. entirely ruined.
gojo. he laughs quietly after a moment at that—it’s a laugh meant for men who’ve lost the last thread to sanity. gojo. it’s like a slap in the face, being called the name he worked so hard to get you to drop. it took him weeks—months, even, to convince you to call him satoru. then he upgraded to toru. then it was baby. sometimes you teased him and called him pumpkin—he called you peaches in return. when you introduced him, you called him your boyfriend.
not anymore. now he’s back to gojo—that god-forsaken name with everything but what he really wants attached to it. his grandfather’s legacy. his future. business deals. fancy invites. more money than he knows what to do with. the name gojo comes with everything but you.
but he had you for a bit, didn’t he? when he was just satoru—but now he’s gojo again, and you’re gone. the only sign of you left is in the faint traces of your perfume in the sweaters you’ve returned.
and satoru still isn’t sure what brought the break up on. he thinks it’s the part that stings the most—when everything seems perfect one second, and then it’s not. had he not tried enough? maybe he was too much. maybe he didn’t understand you the way you needed him to. maybe he was too overbearing. maybe he asked for too much too fast.
he’s not sure. he tried asking when you broke it off—you only shook your head and said it wasn’t going to work out between the two of you, that it was a mistake to try at all. mistake? how could you call this a mistake? things were so perfect, weren’t they?
satoru doesn’t think there was even one second he wasn’t smiling when he was with you, and he used to think the same was true for you too. had you been faking it this long? or was it real at one point—had he really failed you so badly, seen past you so blindly that he didn’t notice when your smiles stopped reaching your eyes?
it’s too late, he figures. you and satoru are broken up.
you ask him to come over one morning, and he does—because he always comes when you call. he brings your coffee order from that cafe you like, the one you don’t go to often because the coffee is more overpriced than any other coffee shop you’ve ever seen. he’s grinning when you open the door, leans in to kiss your lips excitedly. you turn your head then, and his lips meet your cheeks instead—he supposes he should’ve known it at that moment. he should’ve seen that your lips weren’t smiling. your eyes were tired, a little red. you were hugging yourself in that way you do when you’re nervous. you didn’t let him kiss your lips, you made him kiss your cheek.
and then you sat him down on that worn-down couch of yours, took off that bracelet his mother gave him to gift you on your anniversary, and pressed it to his palm as you said we should break up. break up. you wanted to leave him—and satoru didn’t understand, still doesn’t understand.
he’s tried for so long, replayed the last month of your relationship in his head over and over and fucking over. you always smiled. you kissed him first. you held his hand, and even squeezed. you asked to see him. you laughed when he was around. you said i love you. you were happy. but then you weren’t—when did you stop being happy? and how could you have stopped feeling it with him?
—————
breaking up with satoru is the hardest thing you’ve ever done. how long can people live without the sun? you think not longer than a few minutes—that’s what it feels like without satoru’s warmth, anyway.
gojo satoru has always smiled as long as he’s been with you. he smiled smugly on your first meet, smiled bitterly after every rejection, smiled in pure glee when you finally said yes, and smiled like his fingertips could touch the sky every time he saw you after that.
satoru has never looked sad for long in your presence—you have that effect on him, you make his lips curl and his eyes brighten in that way that they deserve to shine. but for the first time ever, his eyes dim with you around, his lips curl into a frown at your words, and he cries for you. his eyes glisten with tears instead of wonder, and you think for a moment that you might be making a mistake.
but then you remember that this is for the best—that if you really love gojo satoru, you’ll let him go instead of clipping his wings.
“he’s picked up his things,” you speak quietly into the phone. you don’t sniffle even as you desperately need to—it’s the last bit of control you have left, and you intend to keep it. “i won’t be seeing him again.”
“good,” his father speaks, “that’s good to hear.”
satoru’s father is a cold man, you learn that on the first meet. he doesn’t look at his wife with a soft look that tells you there’s any love built between the decades of marriage, and he doesn’t look at his only son with any affection for the boy he raised. instead, he stares at satoru like any businessman would an opportunity—with a calculating gaze that tries to work out the best course of action for the most profit.
satoru is young, but he’s charming and conniving and knows how to get what he wants when he wants—he’s quick on his feet and rarely lets himself get cornered into a wall. in the last three generations of the family business, no heir has shown as much promise as gojo satoru. that’s what his father tells you, anyway. you believe him—satoru is smart and knows how to play his cards right, you won’t deny that. his future is set to be comfortable, and he’s never known anything outside of that, never built any other plans for himself.
you can’t rip that away from him—not for your own sake, not for your own happiness.
“you promised you wouldn’t freeze his trust funds once i ended things,” you remind him, “and that he’d keep his inheritance.” somehow, because the world grants you this one favor, your voice doesn’t shake—it’s steady and firm as it reminds the stone-cold man at the end of the line of your agreement—and he offers a slow chuckle that makes your jaw clench.
“yes, i do recall,” he hums, “i’m glad we could come to agree. you understand, don’t you? it is my job as his father to do what’s best for him.”
you know what he’s saying—what that means. you’re not what’s best for him. maybe he’s right—maybe satoru needs someone who’s equally as promising to build a successful company into even more success. maybe he needs someone who can take him out for a change to those fancy places he takes you every few weeks. maybe he needs someone who’s heard of half the brands he wears and doesn’t scold him to turn the lights off so the electricity bill isn’t high. maybe he needs someone who can keep up with everything that gojo satoru is—and that someone is not you, no matter how deeply you love him.
“—the offer still stands, should you change your mind. i’m willing to compensate you for the trouble this must all be.”
your lips curl into a scowl at his words. that’s the thing about rich people, you think—money is always enough to sugarcoat everything. why worry about the dead grass in your lawn when you can paint it green? but you don’t leave satoru for extra cash on your hands—nothing can be worth auctioning off the only man who’s ever made you feel anything. you leave satoru because he deserves to continue living comfortably, to make a name for himself that isn’t just a ghost of his father’s. if that means being cut from the corner of the picture, you’re willing to pick up the scissors yourself.
“no thanks,” you hiss, “i don’t need the money.”
“i would disagree,” his father sneers, “but suit yourself.”
the line ends, and for good this time, satoru is no longer yours. was he ever to begin with?
—————
you try to forget your ex-boyfriend—keyword, try. every hour of your life consists of you using your burner account to refresh his instagram page to see if he’s posted anything new. you unfollow satoru from every social media platform the same day he picks up his belongings—you know he’s noticed within the first thirty minutes because all of his pictures with you are gone, just like all your pictures with him.
in what you assume is an attempt to be petty, he likes every picture of every girl he sees, and he even blocks you on twitter—you know he picks twitter because twitter is the only social media that blatantly states you’re blocked. but then you’re unblocked in two days, and you know he must be missing you now that the initial anger is faded.
it makes you laugh a little, even through your tears. satoru is not satoru without petty fits of emotion, and you can’t bring yourself to be mad, not when it’s your fault he’s hurting like this. he’s extra sad today, you gather—if the way marvin’s room is posted to his instagram story on a blank screen is of any hint. it makes you scoff in amusement that in true gojo satoru fashion, he’s effectively told all eight-thousand-something of his followers he’s pathetically in his feelings.
you scroll through suguru’s story, too—he didn’t unfollow you even after satoru temporarily blocked you, but you figure suguru is the only person satoru really has. you shouldn’t keep yourself close to him, not when it could hurt satoru more, so you remove him too.
suguru is, as always, drinking at some fancy party with obnoxiously rich college students who have not a care in the world for midterms around the corner. who needs to pass when you’re swimming in money whether or not you have a degree? the first thing you learn about the rich is that most of them are only at college for the experience—they don’t see college as the stepping stone to better opportunities, there’s nothing education could offer that trust funds already don’t. but satoru attends college for himself—he enjoys business classes, you learn, and especially finance ones. for someone who spends money so carelessly, he understands it particularly well.
there’s no sign of satoru at whatever party it is suguru is at, there’s no trace of strikingly bright white strands anywhere in any corners—you do see naoya in a corner, though, and you crinkle your nose in distaste. if satoru were here, he’d say something bitterly under his breath about the asshole, and you would giggle. but satoru is not here, and even naoya the women-hating jackass makes you miss your obnoxiously whiny ex-boyfriend.
everything reminds you of satoru. that bear he won you at the fair (after maybe six tries) by your pillows, those polaroids at your desk that you can’t bring yourself to take down, that sticky note on your fridge he left promising to replace the creamer he finished (he’s replaced it more times than he’s needed to by now), that extra big blanket you keep on the couch because the old one barely covered his legs, that pair of silly matching mugs you both had for coffee in the mornings.
every corner of your apartment has something that reminds you that satoru was here, that he was yours, that for a short while, he was the best thing you ever had. it’s your fault, you think—that satoru and you are here in this mess in the first place. he’s always looked at life through a hopeful lens. having everything does that to you, makes you ignorant to the misfortunes of the world, makes you think everything is within the realm of your reach. you, on the other hand, knew this was bound to happen. the two of you together is like hot oil and cool water—what feels like sparks is just the oil shooting out to burn you. you should’ve known this would have never lasted.
in a way, you think you did. it’s why you hated him so fiercely at first—maybe deep down, you always knew you wanted him, that he would never be yours. maybe that’s why you were so adamant about rejecting him, that even when he was clearly trying, it would never be enough. satoru has always been enough, has always been what everyone has wanted—you’re not so sure you can say the same for yourself.
you love gojo satoru. he loves you too—he falls first, and you think maybe, he might have fallen harder too. no one loves like satoru. they say if you press coal hard enough, it turns to diamonds—you think if you gave satoru coal, he would hand you back the sun and all of her stars. it’s just the kind of guy he is, the one that turns everything dull into something bright and warm and worth it. you wish you didn’t have to break his heart, you wish you could’ve walked out of this the only one hurt. but maybe, at the very least, if you break him good enough that he hates you, he’ll move on quicker, maybe have something to look forward to while you continue to work your way up and cheer him on.
before you can refresh suguru’s page one more time to stalk his story, you’re pulled from your thoughts as someone knocks on your door—correction: pounds on your door. you jolt on your couch, standing up and making your way to the front door quickly and looking through the peephole.
satoru. of course.
he’s soaked to the bone—it’s raining outside, and of course, just as on brand as always, he must’ve rushed here without an umbrella.
you shouldn’t open it.
but you can’t just leave him in the rain, can you? but he’s not your problem anymore, you agreed to leave him, didn’t you? but how could he not be your problem when he’s all you think about? but this could cause him trouble if his father found out he was here, right? but can you really leave someone, ex-boyfriend or not, in the pouring rain? you can’t be that cruel can you?
before you can make up your mind, he speaks up, “i know you’re standing there. open the door,” he demands.
“satoru, go home,” you sigh, head pressing against the surface that separates you, “don’t make this anymore difficult than it has to be.”
“if it’s difficult, that means you don’t really want to do this,” he argues. he’s still as good as ever at sweet talk, still as persistent and charming as ever at getting what he wants. “please,” he croaks, “just let me in.”
you know it means more than one thing. you know it means more than just your home. but you shouldn’t, you can’t let him know why you did all this—how can you protect someone from something if they don’t let you? satoru would never let you if he knew, and that’s why you can’t let him know.
“satoru, if you don’t leave…i’ll…i’ll call the cops,” you warn.
“no you won’t,” he says instantly. “i’m not leaving until you open the door. and if i get sick, i’ll send you my bill for the emergency room visit.”
“you’re not going to the emergency room for a common cold, you idiot,” you scoff.
the rain doesn’t slow—in fact, you can hear thunder. satoru is still stubbornly outside, knocking away.
“i’ll start screaming,” he insists, “your neighbors will complain for noise again. do you want to be kicked out of this apartment? just let your cold, wet, heartbroken ex-boyfriend in if you have a heart.”
and because you are, and always will be, weak to the charms of gojo satoru, you open that damned door—even though you shouldn’t, even though you can’t, even though you said you would never again. but you do. because it’s satoru, and he always comes when you call, and you’ll always let him in when he’s here.
“you don’t come to your ex’s house less than one week after the break up,” you sigh once you open the door. he takes a step in, shutting the door behind him.
“why did you leave me?” he asks.
“satoru, you can’t keep bringing this up—”
“why? just tell me why.”
“i don’t have to—”
“tell me why and i’ll stop bothering you. i just need to know why,” he insists.
and then you break.
you’re only human. you’ve lost the man you’ve given everything to for over a year in the span of one week. you’ll never see his lovely mother again who spoiled you rotten, you’ll never hang out out with his funny best friend who treats you like family, and you’ll never be enough for gojo satoru, the rich, loud, sheltered, obnoxious, handsome jackass you met and had to do a project with and accidentally fucked over and over again until you fell in love.
so you shove his chest, once, then twice, then a third time, each time getting weaker and weaker than the last as tears slip down your cheeks as you simply break down. “just leave, satoru,” you sob, “why can’t you just leave? why do you keep coming back?”
you hate seeing him here. you want him gone. you never want to see him again. you hope he never leaves. you’re glad to see him. you hope this isn’t the last time. you hate that he seems to not be getting enough sleep. his eyes are hollow. he must not be eating properly. he probably hasn’t attended class. he has a quiz next week. he most likely forgot about that. his clothes are wrinkly. he definitely hasn’t showered in days.
“last month you said i was it for you,” he glares at you, his eyes red and swollen and every shade of heartbreak. you miss when they were blue—that beautiful, bright, perfect shade of blue. “last week you said we were a mistake. what the fuck do you mean, huh? what are you playing at?”
“you can realize a lot in a month—”
“not enough to erase over a year,” his voice booms. it makes you flinch and hug yourself tightly. tears slide down your cheeks, your vision is blurry. this might be the last time you see satoru, and even if he’s angry, you want to remember the curves of his features. so you wipe them away. they keep coming back. “so tell me,” he clenches his jaw, “did you string me along for a year or did something happen last week that you’re not telling me?”
“i realized you were bad for me,” you say quietly.
satoru stares at you. it’s a piercing gaze—his eyes are electrically blue and his lashes are unfairly long and every time he stares at you, you think he almost sees into your soul. they’re tired—there are purplish bags under them on that pale skin of his, and the whites of his eyes are concerningly bloodshot. he stares, and stares, and for a second, you think you’ll die like this. watching him stare at you as your heart bleeds out.
“i spent weeks,” his voice shakes, “i waited outside your class. i followed you to the next one. i memorized your fucking schedule.”
“satoru, you need to leave—”
“and then you fucked me and left every morning like i was nothing,” he glares, sniffling. you don’t know where the rain drops on his face start and where the teardrops end. “and then i begged you for a chance—begged. i burned my hand, got laughed at by the maids to learn how to make those stupid fucking pancakes for you.”
“i didn’t ask you to—”
“it took you two months to call me baby for the first time. did you know that? i waited two months to hear that. i thought it was the best two months i ever waited.”
“satoru,” you plead.
you’ve given up on trying to wipe away the tears—he’s given up on crying altogether. you’ve never seen him so hollow, so dead in the eyes and so, so tired.
satoru has never gotten tired—not when he’s fighting for you.
“and then you kept pushing me away, acting like i was some shallow guy who wanted to get in your pants and leave cause i had some money to my name. i took you everywhere, introduced you proudly, let everyone say what they wanted to say about me because i loved you, and…and i thought you loved me too,” he shakes his head.
his voice breaks, and god, so does your heart right along with it.
“i do love you,” you admit it before you realize what you’re saying.
“then why did you fucking leave me?” his voice is loud.
satoru never yells, not at you. his voice is always gentle, patient, like he worships the ground you walk on, like he’ll get on his knees if you ask him too. satoru never yells—but he does tonight.
“because i had to,” you sob, fingers digging into your temples as you shake. the words spill from your lips faster than the tears, like a swarm of angry bees, one following after the other. “or you’d lose everything. the trust funds, the inheritance, the company. i couldn’t let that happen to you—not for me,” you whisper.
it feels like defeat—in the end, you couldn’t keep satoru, and you couldn’t leave him either. you couldn’t love him like you wanted, and you couldn’t let him go like you should have. what else is there left to fuck up? what more can you ruin in less than a week? the bees feel like maggots in your mouth, swarming a dead carcass.
“so you left me because my old man threatened you with my trust funds?” he asks in disbelief. you think something in satoru dies at that—something in his shoulders falls and his eyes almost seem gray.
satoru gets his blue eyes from his mother—they’re bright and kind and deeper than the ocean. but unlike the ocean, they’re not scary to fall into, to lose yourself in no matter how far you are from shore. his father’s eyes are gray—cold and blank and not laced with a single hint of emotion.
you can’t help but think that blue suits satoru so much better than gray ever could.
“it wasn’t just that,” you shake your head, “that’s not fair, satoru. what was i supposed to do? know you were about to lose everything and stay?”
“you could have talked to me before you decided for me,” he hisses, “what do you want me to say? thank you? thank you for breaking my heart? thank you for making me feel like a worthless piece of shit who wasted a year for someone who didn’t seem to care? thank you for walking out on me?”
“you know i’d have stayed if i could,” you argue, voice breaking.
“then why didn’t you? why the fuck didn’t you?”
“because i couldn’t!”
“you could!” he screams—you realize, for the first time in your life, you hate when satoru screams. he never screams. “all my life, that old man has been making decisions for me. satoru, wear this. satoru, go here. satoru, don’t do that. satoru, put that away. satoru, stay away from them. satoru, come with me. that’s all he’s ever fucking done—make every choice for me. and now…now you’re just like him,” he breathes, lips wobbling as he stares at you with hurt.
it’s like that for a bit—you stare at him as he crumbles, and he stares at you like he doesn't know you anymore. you don’t know who leans in first, if it’s your hand or his face, but one second you’re feet apart, and the next second his face is cradled in your hands, thumbs swiping away at his tears. you catch them, one by one, waiting to wipe them away no matter how fast they come. because satoru always comes when you call, and you’ll always be there for him to find you.
“i don’t want to leave,” you mumble, “i never do. you are it for me, i meant that, you know. who else will melt extra chocolate in my hot chocolate?”
“then don’t leave,” he begs, voice cracking, “i don’t want you to. i’ll handle that old geezer—my grandfather will knock some sense into him. fuck, suguru and i can even hide his body, it’s fine. just don’t leave, okay?”
you let out a watery chuckle, pinching his cheek as you shake your head. “i don’t know if i’m worth homicide, satoru.”
“i think you’re wrong,” he huffs, “you’re wrong about a lot of things, you know. so wrong.”
“i never said i was perfect,” you pout.
he buries his head into your neck, clinging to you tightly—you cling back, because nothing is as safe as satoru’s arms. you’d melt into his skin if you could, live in that spot right where his heart is so you can make sure it’s always beating.
“you’re still perfect,” he mumbles, “but you’re always mean to me. this was the worst you’ve ever been.”
“i’m sorry,” you murmur, slipping your fingers into his hair—it’s still wet, you realize. he’s soaked, and he could catch a cold but you don’t care. satoru is back. he’s here in your run-down apartment with the mugs and the blanket and that toothbrush you forgot to return and that pair of socks you found in your drawer. satoru is finally home. “i’ll never leave you again.”
“promise?”
“yeah. as long as you don’t block me on twitter again.”
“you deserved that.”
“and for the love of god, toru, delete that marvin’s room story. that was so dumb.”
“are you stalking me?” he pulls away with a grin, making you glare with a huff. he chuckles, kisses your forehead as he murmurs, “missed me that bad, huh? yeah, i would too.”
“well, obviously not enough to post marvin’s room on my story.”
“you can’t be mean to me after you broke my heart!” he whines.
yeah, you think, satoru is home. he’s still that loud, obnoxious, pestering brat that he always was—and he’s still the only love you’ve ever known.
“i love you,” you press your forehead to his, kissing him slowly. you want to kiss him harder, you want to kiss him desperately like you’ll never kiss him again. like you lost him and miraculously got him back. like you’ll never see the sun again without him.
but there’s time for that—lots of it, in fact. because satoru is home.
“i love you too,” he whispers, “wanna shower with me? if you really love me, you would.”
read the makeup sex sequel ;) MINORS DO NOT INTERACT
if this fic was a person i would want it dead.
#teepods.writings#fics.#rich boy! au#gojo x reader#gojo x you#gojo angst#jujutsu kaisen x reader#jujutsu kaisen x you#jujutsu kaisen angst#jjk x reader#jjk x you#jjk angst#gojo satoru x reader#gojo satoru x you#gojo satoru angst
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Rant incoming
I feel like the problem with a lot of Disney's live action remakes (and arguably Wish) is they're trying to appeal to a crowd that no longer exists, namely the people who used to claim that the Disney Princesses were sexist.
All the interviews tend to include, "Well she's not chasing a MAN anymore" which...almost no one sees the princesses like that, anymore. Virtually NO ONE still believes the princesses are man-chasing sexist caricatures of women.
Cinderella is now hailed as an abuse victim who stayed strong long enough to get help to get out of her situation. Anyone who says she should have saved herself is basically regarded as a victim blamer. And it's very clear in the film she wasn't looking to marry the prince, she just wanted a night off. She was the only one who wasn't in line to meet him. She didn't find out she met the prince until he went looking for her!
Snow White is now hailed for her negotiation skills, ability to calm down after extreme stress (she had a moment of panic and had to cry for a bit, but who wouldn't after finding out The Queen hired someone to kill you?), and ability to take charge of a house of adult men. And again, she was an abuse victim, this time trying to escape ASSASSINATION ATTEMPTS. While she dreamed of her prince, it was secondary to her main goal of SURVIVAL. There are also entire video essays about how Snow White gave hope to people during The Great Depression.
Everyone acknowledges that Ariel wanted to be human BEFORE meeting Eric. We all know she was a nerd hyperfixating on humans, and also standing up to her prejudiced father.
We understand Sleeping Beauty wasn't the main character, the Three Good Fairies were, AND PHILLIP WOULD NEVER HAVE BEATEN MALEFICENT WITHOUT THEM! He literally depended on them! WOMEN SAVED THE DAY! But even then, is it really such a sin for a girl to fantasize about romance and fall for someone with corny pickup lines?
We all understand Jasmine just wanted someone to treat her LIKE A PERSON. She rejected every Prince before Aladdin because they treated her like a prize. So why did they need her to want to be Sultan? How did that make her more feminist when she already wanted to be treated like an equal and have a say in her future? Is it only empowering if you want a career in politics?
We admire that Belle, despite living in a judgemental village, was kind to everyone (even though she found the village life dull), and her story teaches girls that the guy everyone else loves isn't always a good guy. What's sexist about teaching girls about red flags? And she didn't start being nice to The Beast until he started treating her with respect and kindness.
Do I really NEED to defend Mulan or Tiana? I think they speak for themselves.
Rapunzel was yet another abuse victim who just needed a little help to get out of her bad situation. In this case, she also needed to learn that she was an abuse victim, and that what Mother Gothel did WASN'T normal, much like many victims of gaslighting.
And don't get me started on the non-princess animals.
Perdita had a healthy relationship with Pongo to the point she was open to express her pregnancy fears to him, and was ready to TEAR APART Cruella's goons for daring to touch her puppies as well as adopting the other puppies. Like, she was so ferocious the goons mistook her for a hyena! She's basically that "I AM THAT GIRL'S MOTHER!" scene from SpyXFamily if Yor were a dog. She and her husband were a TEAM.....but they made a Cruella live action to turn her into a girlboss?! The literal animal abuser!? THAT'S the woman you wanted to put on a pedestal when Perdita was RIGHT THERE!?
Duchess kept her kittens calm after they had been catnapped and was classy as heck. Nice to everyone regardless of social class during a time period where that was uncommon.
Lady stood up to Tramp when she believed he had abandoned her and didn't really care about her. She found out he was a heartbreaker and was like, "Nuh uh. No. You are not doing that to me! You put me through enough."
Miss Bianca from The Rescuers was IN CHARGE the whole movie, and was willing to risk life and limb to save an innocent child. THAT TINY MOUSE TOOK ON ALLIGATORS! And she picked Bernard to accompany her because he was the only one who wasn't ogling her. And then in the sequel SHE DID IT ALL AGAIN! I wish I were as brave as her.
Like, the public haven't accused these ladies of being sexist caricatures since 2014 (Actresses and actors don't count, they're out of touch like the rest of Hollywood) yet Disney is operating under the assumption that the public still thinks that way, hence all the "sHe'S nOt AfTeR a MaN iN ThIs VeRsIOn" talk.
The live action remakes are trying to attract an audience that doesn't really exist much, anymore, and back when it did exist, was comprised mainly of people who didn't actually watch the films. The Disney princesses are no longer seen as sexist, and feminine qualities are no longer seen as weak or undesirable.
#the rescuers#disney#101 dalmatians#perdita#miss bianca#rapunzel#tangled#princess and the frog#tiana#the three good fairies#flora#merriweather#fauna#snow white#sleeping beauty#Cinderella#ariel#the little mermaid#beauty and the beast#belle#aristocats#duchess#lady and the tramp#jasmine#aladdin#long#wish
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NIGHTS LIKE THESE — [hoo boys drabbles]
summary: how they react to your bad dreams.
author's note: i wrote leo's + jason's part imagining that the cabins/barracks have individual rooms sooo...also ik this trope is so ran through in the pjo fandom but it's just toooo good i couldn't help myself
percy jackson
percy has always been the type of person to pick up the phone no matter the time. even as he’s on a lone movie marathon and the scene reaches its long-anticipated climax, he’s reaching for his buzzing phone that’s lost beneath the sheets. having found it after the third ring, percy checks the time and the caller id. why are you calling him so late? he answers, “hi babe. i thought you had to wake up early this morning, why are you awake?”
“hi percy,” your voice was shaky and congested, as if you’d been crying. percy immediately sits up, alarmed at the state of your voice, “did i wake you up?”
“no, no, i was up watching movies. what’s wrong? is everything okay?” he’s seated at the edge of his bed now, anxiously awaiting your response.
you force him to sit in silence as you think of an excuse, “yeah, um…i’m okay. i just wanted to hear your voice. but i’ll see you on thursday, okay? goodni-”
“(y/n), what’s going on?” percy runs a hand through his hair as he heads out of his room to his kitchen. he rips off a napkin from the roll and snatches a pen from the drawer. on the napkin, he writes a brief message to sally, saying that he’d be over at your place and not to worry.
“nothing. i’m fine, percy,” you mutter. but your boyfriend knows you too well. the way your voice quivers makes it sound as though you were trying to convince yourself that everything was okay, and you were failing miserably.
percy places his phone between his ear and shoulder as he ties his shoes, “don’t leave me in the dark, (y/n).”
“don’t worry about me. i’m fine it was just-”
“babe, i’m coming over, okay?” and with that, percy hangs up.
he’s walked this path over a hundred times, usually for dropping you off after dates or simply for hanging out with you. but this time, all percy can think about is how you sounded over the phone and that he needs to seriously pick up the pace.
upon arrival, percy climbs up the fire escape ladder as quickly and quietly as possible. it’s only now that he’s grateful for his experience from all of those laborious quests. reaching your floor, he knocks delicately on the glass.
“percy, what are you doing here?” you ask after he closes your window, “i’m sorry, you really didn’t need to come all this way. it’s like three in the morning and you-”
your boyfriend silences you with a gentle kiss, “i’m okay. it’s you i’m worried about. what’s wrong?”
“it was just a dream.”
“just a dream?”
“yes, it was just a stupid dream.”
percy grabs your shoulders, forcing you to look at him, “(y/n), you’re one of the strongest people i know. so if you were crying over it, then it really must be something.”
you slump on your bed, and percy joins beside you. it's no use hiding it from percy, so with a sigh, you confess, “well, you’re here now. but it just felt so real,” your eyes begin to prick with tears again, “you were laying on the floor…and there was just so much blood, and i tried to stop it—i really did try—but it just kept coming and there was nothing else i could do.”
honestly, percy didn’t know what to say. but he did know that if your dream was anything like the ones he had about you, they were emotionally and physically crushing. so, he decides that if he can’t say anything, he’d rather show you. percy gently guides your body, until the both of you are laying down. with a strong arm wrapped around your figure and the other rubbing slow circles on your back, he can only hope you understand the message he’s trying to convey.
“i’m here, (y/n). everything’s going to be okay,” percy continues to whisper sweet nothings into your ear. slowly but surely, your crying mellows into only soft sniffles.
as you lay on his chest, you can feel the rise and fall of his breathing body. it wasn’t at all like that dream of yours; his cold body eerily still on the floor. not at all like that. you allow yourself to slowly drift off with the rise and fall of his chest, strangely as if it were its own lullaby, “thank you, percy,” you manage to whisper.
“i love you, (y/n). i’m not leaving you, ever. i promise,” percy whispers back.
leo valdez
leo’s used to waking up several times in the middle of the night. considering the demigod dreams, he hasn’t remembered the last time he’s gotten a full night's rest, which is why he’s not surprised to be awake at the crisp hour of two a.m. he can’t even remember the dream this time, but leo bets it was another dream foreseeing his imminent death or the end of the world.
as he stares at the pipes and wires running along the ceiling of bunker 9, a familiar ringtone sounds from his phone. leo quickly wipes the sleep from his eyes and picks up the phone from his nightstand, “(y/n)? are you okay? it’s so late.”
there’s a silence, followed up by quiet sniffles. were you crying? “hi leo, i’m sorry i probably woke you up didn’t i? go back to sleep, i was-”
“no i was already awake, what’s wrong?” the moment your boyfriend noticed your shaky voice, his attitude completely changed. suddenly awake and full of energy, he tears off his blanket and reaches for his hoodie and shoes.
considering the fact that you never really call so late alarms him. you calling either meant that you had a nightmare or you were hurt…and leo prayed it was the dream.
“i’m sorry…” you take a deep breath, “i just had a bad dream, like one of those dreams, you know?” leo knows all too well what you’re talking about, and if it’s anything close to the dreams he has, he can only imagine what you’re feeling, “but i swear i’m okay now. i’ll see you later?”
but leo’s already out the door as you finish your explanation, “i’m coming over, stay there.”
“wait leo-”
he hung up.
the trek through the forest was usually something one would avoid, especially at this hour, but leo couldn't give less of a shit as he thinks about you crying in your room. a few minutes later after practically sprinting to your cabin, he arrives. locating the window to your room was easy, he’d done this several times before for your sleepovers. leo knocks as quietly as he can on the glass, hoping he doesn’t disturb any of your other siblings.
surprised, you pull your curtain aside and are face to face with none other than your boyfriend. he looks sweaty and out of breath. leo ran all this way? pushing your question to the side, you rush to open the window and let him in.
for the first time, leo really gets a good look at you. your eyes are red and puffy; you look at him with such desperation and he can’t help but pull you into a rib-cracking hug.
“you actually came.”
“what? of course i did, (y/n),” he takes your face into his hands, rubbing soft circles on each cheek. suddenly, tears begin to flow freely down your face. was it something he said? was he not supposed to come?
you pick up on his confusion, “i’m sorry, i’m just…glad you’re alive,” leo sits you on your bed, and continues to wipe away the tears, his concern growing with each passing second. your boyfriend urges you to go on, “it’s just the same thing every night. i’m at your grave on the hill, and i’m all alone and it’s raining and i just-”
“(y/n), breathe,” leo pulls you into his chest once more. he holds you so impossibly tight, ensuring that you know he’s there and he doesn’t plan to ever leave. his sacrifice during the final battle against gaia will forever be amongst one of leo’s biggest regrets. not because he had saved the world, but because of how hard it impacted you. without a doubt, you could easily say that those months where leo was gone were the hardest times of your life. and not a day goes by where leo thinks he can ever forgive himself for it, “i’m here. i’m alive.”
you nod, your sobs turning into quiet hiccups. leo moves the two of you guys to be laying down, and as final reassurance, he gently guides your hand under his hoodie, allowing you to feel his steady heartbeat. your boyfriend’s skin is warm to the touch and you count his heartbeat…one…two…three. and that was proof enough, “you’re alive.”
“i am,” leo soothes. he places a gentle kiss atop your head and pulls the covers over your bodies. his arms wrap tightly around your figure, holding you close, “sleep, (y/n). i’ll be here in the morning.”
jason grace
it’s late nights like these that jason has slowly come to appreciate. these scarce nights where he’s completed his praetor duties for the night and he allows himself to indulge in some self-care, which usually consists of a cup of hot herbal tea and a good book.
usually, jason prefers historical books, oftentimes concerning roman myths or the occasional diary of some war general. what can he say? he likes to be all-knowing when it comes to these things. but this time, as he’s curled up in his bed, he reaches for the book that you had recommended to him: a classic romance novel. jason laughs to himself as he recalls you teasing him about his taste in literature. if he remembers correctly, you called him a “history-loving freak?”
just as jason’s about to open the book, an unexpected ringing sounds from his phone. he huffs, momentarily disapointed. that is, until he sees who’s calling, “(y/n)? hi, are you okay?”
“oh, hi,” jason noticed the way your voice sounded off, like you’d been crying, “i didn’t think you’d actually answer.”
confused, he puts the book back on his nightstand, “of course i would, my love. what’s going on? you sound like you’ve been crying.”
“no, everything’s okay i just…” you pause, “had a bad dream, so i wanted to listen to your voicemail.”
jason’s heart squeezes at the thought of you going so far as to listen to his own ten second voicemail as a method of comfort. but the feeling goes away just as quickly as it came upon hearing you had a nightmare, “oh i’m sorry, my love. do you want me to come over?”
“no,” you reply, “it’s okay. i’m better now that i’ve heard your voice. you can go back to bed, jason.”
despite you declining his offer, jason’s already up and putting his shoes on, “i’ll be there in a few, okay? i love you,” and he hangs up.
within a handful of minutes, jason reaches your cohort’s barracks. the square windows look impossibly similar, but it’s all thanks to practice that he recognizes yours. even as praetor, he still has to enforce the rules and sneak around. with a quiet knock on your window, he waits in the dark for you.
“you’re here. you’re alive, jason,” is all you can muster up as your boyfriend stands tall inside your room. his expression is clearly written with worry as he closes the gap between you with a hug. as hard as you tried to fight it, the tears came again in a fresh wave.
“yeah, i’m here, (y/n). i’m not leaving,” he replies, concern laced in his words. jason notices your tears and gently wipes them away, “c’mere, tell me about your dream,” he beckons, guiding you towards the bed. with a gentle plop, he settles down and opens his arms, inviting you to join him.
settling against jason’s chest, you take a shaky breath as he places kisses on your temple, “i was at your funeral, and you looked so peaceful, like you were sleeping. i just can’t stop thinking about how you looked asleep. and then they expected me to, you know, give a speech in front of the entire camp about you, and i just…i can’t imagine a world without you, so please, you can’t leave me like that.”
“woah, woah, (y/n) i’m okay, breathe,” jason hushes you, rubbing soft circles on your arm. to be frank, he’s pretty shocked about what you had just said. he can’t get over how shaken up you are by this. but jason can’t even blame you, because if it were him who had the dream, he bets he would also be like this, “i’m here and i have no plan of ever leaving, okay? i’m afraid you’re stuck with me for the rest of your life,” he jokes, hoping to get at least a smile from you.
jason’s joke succeeds as he feels your body shake with a quiet giggle, “good. i wouldn’t have it any other way.”
your boyfriend checks your face once more, ensuring that you’ve stopped crying. seeing that you have, he places delicate kisses on each cheek, “hey, how about we go to sleep now? i’ll read you that book,” jason motions to the book on your nightstand, which happens to be the same one you recommended him.
you nod tiredly, “only if you do different voices for each character.”
“of course, only for you,” jason quips.
after adjusting your bodies, jason reaches for the book and opens it to chapter one. but before he begins, he pulls the covers completely over your body and places a chaste kiss on your forehead, “i love you so much, (y/n). and i hope you know that i’ll always be here for you, no matter what.”
#percy jackson#leo valdez#jason grace#percy jackson and the olympians#heroes of olympus#percy jackson x reader#leo valdez x reader#jason grace x reader#percy jackson x y/n#percy jackson x you#percy jackson fanfiction#percy jackson imagine#heroes of olympus x y/n#heroes of olympus x reader#leo valdez x y/n#leo valdez x you#jason grace x y/n#jason grace x you#jason grace fluff
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Mean rafe is my fav :)
how silly of you to run away, especially when you knew that Rafe would stop at nothing to get to you. His most prized and prioritized possession, and possibly the only thing that kept him sane for as long as you did. he was a mess without you, and his facade of nonchalance was crumbling as he watched you grind against none other than Topper at one of his parties. The sheer audacity.
with every hand that traveled down, and every murmur Topper whispered into your ear—he felt his blood grow uncomfortably hot, and the room around him felt like it would collapse any second. A rush of adrenaline, so strong, it shot through him like a bullet lodged into his heart when seen you giggle at something Topper said. He was done watching from the sidelines as you practically fucked each other on the dance floor, in a painful display; your attempt to embarrass, and make him jealous was working better than you’d hoped.
so, you tried your best to act shocked when screams and yells were heard around you. It took a minute to process the scene before you, the gruesome one of Rafes’ fist colliding with Toppers face over and over. “Shit, shit, shit—Rafe, get off him! You’re gonna fucking kill him!” You yelled out, more so annoyed than worried or afraid. A regular occurrence of his that you got used to was his temper.
Rafe stopped. In the blink of any eye, all of of his malice was directed towards you. While people were calling for help, crying and recording to post on social media platforms, his hand found your upper arm in a tight, nearly suffocating grip. “Tired of you’re little ass actin’ out. Always makin’ me have to get my fuckin’ hands dirty. And for what? Just so you can come crawling back to my dick when that stupid little head of yours realizes no one can do you as good as I do?” He gritted out through clenched teeth, dragging you to his truck.
he threw you into the passenger seat, your name in cursive and pink vibrantly still on the dashboard with a little heart next to it. His hand reached over, the same one that had gripped on to your arm was now harshly gripped onto your jaw, squishing your cheeks together. He clicked his tongue. “When are you gonna learn, hm? You’re fuckin’ stuck with me, so make it easier for both of us and shut the fuck up, and act right before I give you something to really cry about.” He hissed, face hardened has he watched a tear roll down your cheek.
don’t be shy, ask to be a part of the tag list and request things!!
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best friend yans partner making reader cry and yan realizes that it’s not their arms that reader runs to for comfort anymore🫢
You're happy for them.
In the beginning, it was just you and them. Growing up, they had always been a quiet kid. Clung to the hip of the first person who gave them the time of day. You didn't regret your decision then and you don't now. The years you had together were some of the best and you could only wish them happiness going forward. You were so proud of them for building the courage to broaden their friend group... You only wish they let new people in without shutting the old out.
You promised yourself you wouldn't cry when you found out you had to share them with someone else. You promised you wouldn't cry when they cancelled plans to focus on their new relationship. You promised you wouldn't cry when they finally replied to all your calls and texts just to put an end to your life long friendship.
You don't blame them for saying goodbye. It'd hurt less if they had done it in person, but you're adults now - friendships and silly promises are secondary when you've found true love. That's what they said this was in their final message to you- and so you believe them. Won't have much time for movie nights and hanging out like you used to while they're building a life with someone else, so you were bound to drift apart anyway. Everyone always said a bond like yours would stand the test of time, but clearly they were wrong. The best thing you can do for them and yourself is keep your chin high and swallow the tears. As much as it hurts, you won't cry. You won't cry.
"Ugh.. are you are stalker now? It's kind of pathetic for you to cling onto someone you never dated When will it get through your thick skull - they don't need you anymore."
You won't cry. It was pure coincidence that you ran into them again. It makes sense after all the time you've spent together the places you frequented would align. Your old best friend and their new lover had taken a trip to the mall on the day your new acquaintance had taken you to your old stomping grounds to cheer you up. Their partner was like a vulture - watching you from afar and awaiting the second you both were alone to strike. Honestly, it seemed like they didn't even notice you which only teared down another layer of your fragile defense. You want to go home, but you had to wait for your companion. Unlike others - you'd never leave anyone behind.
"They told me all about what it was like when you were younger. How you sucked up every minute of their time and made every thought they had all about you. You're honestly disgusting, you know that?"
Your throat tightens as you're backed into a metaphorical corner. That's not true. You tried to be there for them. They're the one that rejected everyone that wasn't you. Is that really how they viewed you? How they felt about you? Sharp intakes of air build up to the first exasperated wail that rips itself from you. It all crumbles from there. Tears pour from your tired eyes and spent heart. You try so hard to keep it in, wiping at your face and muffling your cries with quivering lips - but they only flood harder. Your aggressor attempts to flee from the scene of the crime as two pairs of footsteps quickly approach.
"Y/n?....."
"Y/n!...."
Sneakers squeak along the mall floor as one sprints to your side, going out of their way to jam their elbow in the ribs of your aggressor as they squeeze past them to get to you. The other stands stagnant as their lover nears - watching as you fall weightless into their arms. They draw back the foot pointed in your direction at first witness to your cries.
"Baby, what happened! Are you okay? This is why I told you to come into the store with me. Calm down, breathe. It's okay. I'm here."
Soft fingers brush away your tears. They dry quicker against someone else's skin. Your head falls to their chest, ears tuned to the gentle beat of their heart to calm the frantic beats in your own. Your companion takes their hand in yours, kissing the back of your knuckles as you follow their instruction and breathe in slowly.
"That's it.... I'm right here. I'll always be right here for you."
Their words are like a dagger to those unfortunate to listen. A blade dug deeper by your redden eyes and the small smile that forms as you gently squeeze your savior's hand. Once upon a time, it was their hand you held when at your worse - just as yours had pulled them out of the wreck their life was before they meet you. You used to be each other's shoulder to cry on. Safe houses from a world that never understood you or bothered to care. They long for that moment in time, but in that instance it all felt too perfect. If they hadn't let you go and found comfort elsewhere they'd only hurt you in the end - crush and buried beneath the weight of the ever-changing, conflicting tide of their feelings for you.
Laughter draws them back to the cruel reality they now face as punishment for their selfish decision.
"I'm fine now - I swear!"
"Nope! Since you won't tell me what's wrong, we ain't stopping until you're all smiles. We're going to hit up every store in this mall until it closes and you find something that completely takes your mind off whatever got you down. As your new best friend, it's my duty to make sure your heart is in good shape.... So I can steal it later on."
"You're such a dick...." Nudging their arm with your elbow, you giggle - then sigh. "Well, if you're paying, I guess I can't complain. Best be on our way then."
A passing glances comes not from you, but from the victor of this scenario. Your new best friend locks an arm around your waist, placing a kiss to your hair before mouthing a single word over your shoulder.
"mine."
A hand reaches out as you disappear into the crowd. It's falls not into the grasp of the one its heart truly desires, and instead into the iron grip of the person they chose as a cheap imitation.
"Can you believe those two?"
".... I'm going to fucking kill that bastard."
#yandere#yandere imagines#yandere x reader#yandere insert#yandere scenarios#yandere x you#yandere oc#yandere blurb#yandere headcanons#yandere drabble#tw yandere#yandere angst#yandere best friend
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Feathers
Sukuna x Reader
Synopsis: Master Sukuna establishes a safe word with his favorite pet, to prevent hurting them again!
Word count: 0.8k
Tags/warnings: gn! reader, fluff, mentions of violence, hurt/comfort, mentions and implied nsfw
Author’s note: Another in a compilation of drabbles with pet reader and Master Sukuna <3 This is basically a bunch of scenes I want to eventually incorporate into my bigger fic/series Reverence!
There was a time when soft moments with Sukuna scared you as much as they excited you. You were so used to rough handling and bruises that as little as gentle touch would come as a surprise. It was a completely new territory with no clearly set rules. So many times you'd hold your breath or avoid moving in fear of angering him. But Sukuna warmed up to you. Little by little he would silently expand the things he'd allow you to do without consequences. It started with you being forbidden from touching him at all. Then he'd let you feel him up during your nightly encounters, snuggle up to him afterwards, sleep in his bed... All the while mumbling vague threats and giving you scary looks. "Careful with your hands.", he'd say when you'd run them from his chest to his stomach, feeling his muscles and stumbling upon his belly mouth. You pulled your hand back and opened your mouth to apologize. But he just gave you a look you couldn't read and put your hand back to his belly.
With time you've come to understand that there were some things Sukuna would never say out loud. "Keep caressing me", was one of them. "Sorry", was another. And a big one.
Sukuna was violent, it was simply in his nature. He's pushed your bounds before, he enjoyed it, but he wanted to see how far he can take things too. Naturally, slip ups happened. Hell, the first time you remember him ever being nice to you was one night when he roughed you up particularly bad. He would always leave to get dressed or refreshed, and expect you to be gone by the time he's back. But this time, you were still there, with your head in the pillow, muffling sobs.
Your heart nearly stopped when you felt the mattress dip with his weight by your side, thinking finally you have met your end. You didn't expect him to gently brush sweaty strands of hair out of your face, and look at you with brows furrowed in confusion.
"Why are you crying?", he asked, and you thought that he was mocking you. He's never shown you kindness, beyond providing you with bare necessities in life. So why would he be concerned with you now?
"H-hurts...", you say quietly, and try your best to stop sobbing. You spend so much time keeping Sukuna company at his throne. You know how quickly (and brutally) he deals with people who annoy him. You were so sure you were going to share their fate. Any second now, you thought as you squeezed your eyes shut.
"Where?", he asked. When you opened your eyes, he looked as docile as you'd ever seen him. And then his hand was in your face, and the back of his finger brushed your tears away. You blinked at him a couple times just to make sure you were processing the situation right. Then you shuffled around to touch the places that ached on your body.
And on his side, Sukuna was quite shocked to see how untrusting you were of him. For once he thought that he striked too much fear into you. Or maybe he was just under the impression, because his most obedient pet was crying. Either way, his hand followed yours, light against your sensitive skin. Careful not to cause any more pain for the night. You were stiff under his fingertips at first, still anticipating violence, but slowly relaxed as you felt the pain subside.
"There.", he says, instead of "Sorry". But he felt sorry.
The next time he brings you to his chambers, he stops you in front of the bed. "Pick a word. Any word.". You stop and think, not knowing where he's going with this.
"Feathers.", you say. Angels. His hands on your waist urge you to turn around, facing your back to him. He brushes your hair over your shoulder and kisses you, from the back of your ear trailing down. Your hand meets his and you think you'll melt into him. You've never experienced such tenderness, and to know it's coming from him...
"Only use it when you can't take it anymore. I'll stop.", he whispers against your skin. And just as you thought of how suspiciously nice he was starting to sound..."I wouldn't want to break my favorite toy".
Then he nudges you onto the bed and joins you. You don't have enough time to process the words, before he's on top of you and your focus is shifted back to him. And you don't think you've ever been so relaxed laying in bed with a monster. Later that night, when you were alone in your room, you felt butterflies at the thought of being his favorite. Even if you were nothing but a toy. Even if tomorrow when you stumble upon him in the hallway, or when he calls for you to make him company in his throne room, he'll be as distant and cold as the moon.
#sukuna x reader#ryomen sukuna x reader#sukuna fluff#soft sukuna#jjk x reader#jjk fluff#jjk#ryomen sukuna#sukuna#if this is horribly formatted its bc im posting from my phone 😭#i wrote another one!!!#soft sukuna rent free in my head these days#well as soft as he gets..
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Pairing: Miguel O’Hara x fem!reader
Warnings: 18+, NSFW, Age Gap, Penetrative Sex, Oral Sex, Facesitting, Breast Play, Body Worship, Praise, Aftercare
Summary: darlin' hold me while you wipe my tears, fallin’ you say i’m wise beyond my years
A/N: An anonymous request that I LIVE for!!! Inspired by @osaemu's fic.
Word Count: 3.9K (Not Edited)
You should have used waterproof mascara.
You should have known no matter how sparkly your dresses were, how perfect your makeup was, or how pretty you looked, he’d always find attention from someone else who did it ten times better. But you had still hoped. Hoped that on your own goddamn birthday, your own boyfriend would spare you even a second of attention. Instead, you’re tilting your head back outside on his shitty mansion’s balcony so your tears don’t ruin your makeup.
If your boyfriend was going to fuck every girl at this party but you, you wanted to at least look somewhat pretty and not like the sad, lonely mess you know you are. You embarrassed yourself enough when you had stormed up to him, interrupted his groupie make out session, and slapped him across the face screaming about breaking up with him. You can feel your chin wobble at the thought, and you sniffle and blink rapidly at the sky in an attempt to banish the new wave of sadness that courses through you. Best present ever! Your late twenties are treating you sooo well!
The sound of the balcony door opening catches your attention, and you’re quick to hastily wipe the tears streaming down your face as you clear your throat. You turn towards the door, ready to give whoever it is a wavering smile and a, Oh! I’m just out getting some fresh air! The smell of cigarettes was so strong haha! I promise I’m not crazy and go around slapping people on my birthday! But, you’re surprised to see Miguel, Gabe’s dad, standing there with a bottle of beer in his hand. And he's staring at you. You sniffle again, blinking rapidly. Gabe’s almost a carbon copy of his father, minus the ruggedness that comes with aging. Miguel also has the working man appearance to him, rough around the edges from hard work that his son doesn’t have. Miguel looks exactly like your usual type, but of course you had to go for his young, stupid son.
You can feel tears beginning to spill from your eyes again and you turn away. You’re sure he’s going to kick you out, question you on why you’re still here after making a scene and slapping his son in front of everyone. You try to muffle your teary hiccup by placing your palm over your mouth as you rest your elbows on your knees. Miguel sighs deeply, moving to sit on the chair parallel to yours. You turn your head slightly as you catch movement, wet eyes noticing the half empty beer bottle Miguel silently holds out for you. You blink at it for a few seconds in confusion, only understanding that he’s offering it to you when he shakes it slightly in his hand.
You pull your mouth away from the palm of your hand and shake your head slightly as you mumble, “I don’t drink.”
He doesn’t say anything in return, taking the bottle back and taking a sip. You study him for a second, waiting for him to get mad or something, but he just looks straight ahead admiring the view as he sips on his beer. After a while, you do the same. You look straight ahead, feeling the tears dry on your face. Your face feels slightly sticky from the tears, and you have a feeling you’ve smudged your mascara and eyeliner.
Now that you’re not focused on crying all the water out of your body, you realize how cold it is outside. You shiver, only lasting a few more minutes before you’ve decided you rather not die of hypothermia tonight. As you’re about to get up, Miguel speaks up.
“I’m sorry about, Gabe. I don’t know how he turned into such an ass. He’s a piece of shit for making a pretty thing like you cry on your birthday.”
When you turn to look at him, he’s already looking at you. You give him a tight lipped smile, shrugging in mock-indifference.
“It’s okay, I didn’t like him that much anyways, no offense.” Then, to lighten the mood, “I’m not an expert on feelings, but I don’t think he liked me that much either.”
Miguel stares at you like he doesn’t believe you when you say you don’t like him, but it’s the truth. You haven’t really felt anything romantic for Gabe in a while. The only reason you’ve stuck by him was because he’s the only person you really know in Nueva York. But now, you’re all by yourself in this big ass city. At least you love your job.
“Yeah, well, he’s an idiot for letting you go. Trust me, sooner or later he’s going to regret it.” Miguel defends you. He looks personally offended at the thought of his son, or anyone, not liking you.
His words make your smile brighten slightly and you laugh, “Thank you, but I really doubt that. By tomorrow he’ll probably forget I even existed.”
Miguel scowls at that, and you yelp when his hand reaches out and pulls your chair towards his. Your knees knock with his, and you have to hold onto the armrest of his chair to prevent yourself from falling on top of him. You look up at him with wide eyes, breath stifling from how close his face is to yours. Your heart beats erratically as he leans in close, the almost red-brown of his eyes getting more detailed. Your eyes can’t help but trail down to his lips. They’re slightly glossy from his beer, and for the first time, you're tempted to try it.
You’re quickly startled out of your thoughts when Miguel’s hand grips your chin, forcing your eyes to meet his. They’re slightly hooded as he looks down the end of his nose at you, and you gulp nervously. His thumb caresses your skin gently, and you have to work hard to not close your eyes as he leans his face down. Instead of the kiss you thought he was going to give you, he shifts until his mouth is close to your ear.
Your disappointment quickly disappears as your breath hitches. His breath his warm against your ear as he whispers, “He should have treated you like a fucking queen.”
Your heart skips a beat, eyes dropping to your thigh as Miguel’s other hand moves to rest on it. It kneads the plush skin softly before sliding up and fiddling with the ends of your dress. His hand looks so big on your body. You can feel the calluses on his fingers, they’re rough and cracked. Totally different from the too soft hands of Gabe. The hard difference between a man who works hard to get what he wants and a boy who expects everything served to him on a silver platter.
Miguel’s hand begins to slip under the edge of your dress, and your body straightens with your gasp as his fingers skim the center of your panties. You can practically sense Miguel’s smile as his fingers ever so lightly brush up and down. You can’t help the way your body squirms at his touch, thighs threatening to close around his hand. His fingers float higher and higher, until they’re pressing against your clothed clit. You can feel yourself dripping into your panties and you whine.
“I can treat you like the queen you are.”
Miguel’s voice distracts you from his hand, eyes moving up to his face as he moves away from your ear. His eyes are glossy with lust, something hot in his gaze. You can feel yourself clench around nothing, and based on the way Miguel’s eyes darken, he felt it too. His words pound against the walls of your brain, repeating and stretching as you think up of what he means.
In the end, all you can let out is a: “W-what?”
Behind the lust, Miguel’s eyes flicker in amusement. His hand leaves your chin, sliding up your face until he’s twirling a strand of your hair around his finger. “Let me show you how you should be treated. How a man would treat you.”
His proposal burns through your stomach, your eyes blinking rapidly as you breathe in deeply. You can smell the slight tinge of beer mixed with the masculine scent of cinnamon and firewood. It makes your brain dizzy, coaxing you to nod in agreement. Miguel’s hand stops playing with your hair instantly, eyes falling over your face for any sign of indecision. He doesn’t find any, but he still needs verbal confirmation.
“You gotta tell me clearly, baby.” He urges, leaning his face close again.
He’s a millimeter away, your lips brushing against his as you say, “Please.”
Your only warning is the rumbling groan he lets out before he’s catching your lips in a searing kiss. You whine against his mouth, eyes fluttering shut as his teeth nip at your bottom lip. You lean more into him, arms hesitantly coming to wrap around his neck and tangle in his hair. Your lips part when you feel his own hand push onto the small of your back, allowing his tongue to slip through. Both of you moan into the kiss when your tongues meet, the remains of bitter beer invading your taste buds. It should be disgusting, should remind you of all the times Gabe slobbered all over your mouth in a drunken make out, but it doesn’t. Miguel is experienced, knowing where to place his hands and where to caress with his tongue. His lips move with calculated confidence where Gabe would open and close his mouth like a fish.
Right as your mind becomes slightly dizzy from lack of oxygen, Miguel pulls away. His eyes are still trained to your lips, now plump and wet with spit. He hisses under his breath, cherishing the yelp you let out as he quickly lifts you as he stands. Your arms stay wrapped around his neck, only tightening as he sets you into a bridal-style carry. His sudden display of strength makes you clench your thighs. Gabe never offered to carry you, mumbling something about not wanting his arms to get sore. But Miguel carries you like you weigh nothing, even trusting to support you with a single hand as he opens the sliding door and closes it behind the two of you.
The loud music hits you full blast, the smell of nicotine and alcohol following. From Miguel’s arms, you can see Gabe still on the couch with his entourage of girls. Even from the distance and colored lights, you can see the redness of his cheek where you’ve slapped him. You’re quickly forgetting about him again when Miguel starts moving, carrying you up the stairs. He pauses in front of the door two away from Gabe’s. Miguel’s room. He opens it and locks it behind the two of you, depositing you on his large bed.
It smells strongly of him, and you have to fight yourself to not breathe in deeply. His sheets feel heavenly against your skin, caressing it like silk. The mattress sinks under you slightly, cocooning your body. It sinks deeper as Miguel crawls on top of you. Your hips are caged by his knees as he kneels, arms holding him up by your head. They come to rest under your head, pulling you up to kiss you again. The two of you sink back into the bed as your tongues clash, and you squeal when Miguel flips you over so you’ve swapped positions. He chuckles against your lips, pulling away and smiling when you pout at him.
“Shhh,” He smiles, hands sliding down to the zipper of your dress. He drags it down slowly, watching as the straps of your dress fall away and slide down your shoulders, “Let me worship you.”
Your thighs tighten around his waist, blinking down at him as he pushes your dress down to reveal your bare breasts. There wasn’t any need for a bra with your dress having built in padding. You gasp when he surges forward, holding you in place with his hands on your waist as he sucks one of your boobs into his mouth. Your hands tangled into his hair, head tilting back with a moan as he licks and teasingly bites down on your nipple. One of his hands slides up to your upper back, pressing so your chest is pushed against his face. He moans around your nipple, hungrily lapping and sucking as he looks up at you. He’s entranced by the way your lips part as you moan and whine, your neck revealed to him as your face faces the ceiling.
He can feel his cock twitch in his pants, distracting himself by giving your other breast attention. His eyes practically roll to the back of his head as you tug on his hair. When he’s satisfied, he parts from your breasts with a final kiss to both of your nipples. They’re hardened and shiny with his saliva, and he’s almost tempted to go back for seconds. But he has other things in mind. You watch him as he lays flat on his back, the hand at your back returning to your waist so his other can reach under your dress. You gasp, hands planting on his chest as he rips your underwear off of you. Your eyes are wide as he brings them up to his nose, squeezing at your waist as he moans at the scent.
He stuffs them into his pocket, both hands now planted on your waist again. He bunches your dress around your waist, looking like a goddess as all your privates are revealed to him. He picks you up, your hands gripping the headboard as he sits you on his face. The noise you let out is close to a scream as his lips instantly attack your clit, sucking it into his mouth. His tongue is warm against your aching bud, your eyes rolling back with another loud moan when his tongue slides against your folds. You want to cry when he pulls you off his face slightly, his chin already sparkly with slick.
“Gods baby, you’re so sensitive. Gabe never eat you out before?” He teases, but he quickly loses the smirk on his face when you whimper out a no. He rolls his eyes, mumbling out pinche imbécil before diving back into your folds.
You can’t help bucking against his mouth, his nose beginning to nudge at the bud between your legs. He groans under you in appreciation, and you feel it throughout your whole body. You’re a whiny mess on top of him, your sounds drowning out the music from downstairs. One of your hands comes to tangle in his hair to help guide your movements, and his hands start rocking your hips to help out. He can feel you clenching against his mouth, your orgasm close. For a second he debates not letting you finish and instead making you come around his cock. But no, he isn’t greedy. He’d let you have all the orgasms you want. You deserve to be deeply satisfied and fucked out. Plus, he needs to make up for all the times his son failed to get you to your peak.
He’s definitely happy with his choice as you fucking scream his name, back arching as you lean against the headboard. Your thighs twitch around his head, your breath heavy as you whine. Your release flows into his mouth like thick honey, and it tastes just as sweet. He can feel himself twitch in his pants again, and he holds you down to prevent you from getting up. He needs to make sure he swallows every last drop you’re giving him. Has to show you how grateful he is that you’re giving him your sweet release. When he finally lets you off, you do so on numb legs. You roll to the side, chest still heaving as he groans.
“Fuck hermosa, taste fucking divine.” Miguel praises, his body hovering over yours again.
You whine up at him, pulling him into a shy kiss that he returns desperately. You can taste yourself on his tongue and you whimper. As he shares your taste with you, his hands finally get rid of the rest of your dress. He pulls away once it’s off, resting his forehead against yours as his hands undo his belt buckle.
“You’re gorgeous, y’know that? A fucking vision. And you’re all mine.”
Your body arches into him at his words, hands exploring the expanse of his clothed chest as he gets his pants off. His chest leaves your hands as he sits up again, rapidly undoing the buttons of his button-up and hurriedly taking it off. Both of you are naked, and his eyes get the chance to explore you as you explore him. He’s built in muscle, a little chub at his stomach that has you leaking onto his sheets. His cock hangs heavy in between his legs, unable to hold up its own weight. It makes your mouth water and you almost beg him to put it in your mouth.
You’re distracted from your filthy fantasy when Miguel’s finger lands at the end of your throat and in between your collarbones. He slides it down, goosebumps mapping where he touched. He brings his finger down the valley between your breasts, dragging it to your stomach, and ending its journey at your clit where he taps on it gently. The whole time he holds his breath as if breathing would disturb the perfection in front of him. It makes your body sing, arching into his touch with a small noise that he soaks up.
“Fucking perfect,” he whispers into the darkness of the room, leaning back over you.
You can fill his tip rubbing between your thighs, smearing his precum on your skin. You spread your legs wider for him, and you gasp when he grabs them and pushes them up to your chest and over his shoulders. He kisses the side of your knee, eyes peering down at your face as he guides his tip to your entrance. He rubs it up and down slowly, collecting your dripping arousal and nudging at your clit until your body is jolting in sensitivity. When he brings it back to your weeping hole, it slides in with little resistance.
You moan needily as it enters you, and you clench around his tip. It makes Miguel’s mouth drop with a groan, trying to push past your tightness, “You’re so tight, loosen up for me baby.”
You try to relax your walls, but every time he slides further in, your walls clench in pleasure. It makes him chuckle, and he toys with your clit to help your efforts. It works well, and he slides in easily as he rolls your bud in circles.
“Fuckkk, that’s it baby. Taking this cock so well.”
You whine, back arching as he bottoms out. His balls are flush against your skin, and you squirm on his cock as he begins to slide out. You gasp out when he thrusts back in, hitting against your cervix. Your hands reach above you to bury into the plush pillows, mewling as he starts building up a pace. You try to turn your head away, closing your eyes tight as you moan, but Miguel reaches down so you face him and force eye contact. Your eyes are completely dazed from pleasure, lust threatening to spill through your tears. Miguel groans at the sight, his hips beginning to thrust into you faster. Your gummy walls drag against his length, fluttering every now and then as he works you towards another orgasm. It makes his cock twitch inside of you, and he hides his face in your neck and leaves bruising marks. The way he presses into you makes him hit deeper, hitting that spot inside of you that makes you impossibly close to climax. Your hands leave the pillows to rake down Miguel’s back with hiccuped mewls of his name as you feel your stomach burn.
“I know, baby,” Miguel grunts, teeth clenched as his hips start stuttering. “I know, I’m right there too. Let go, I got you.”
With his reassurance and the persuasion of a few more thrusts, your body tenses. Your mouth falls open in a silent scream, body arching and twitching as you come. Feeling your walls clench so tightly around him makes Miguel explode soon after, moaning out your name. He works both of you through your orgasms with shallow thrusts that slowly dwindle to a halt. He breathes heavily into your neck, groaning as he slowly pulls out of you with a wet squelch. His face hovers over yours, showering you in chaste kisses that have you letting out breathy giggles.
Once Miguel has caught his breath he gets up, carrying you as he stands off the bed and walking towards the bathroom. He places you down on the sink’s large counter top, your body shocked by the cold marble. He parts from you with a slow kiss to your lips, turning to prepare a bath for you. When the tub fills with steamy water, he picks you up again, stepping in and sitting down with you between his legs. You sigh as the water soothes your aching body. Miguel’s hands begin to massage your body, whispering small praises into your skin and leaving kisses along your neck and shoulders. The coziness of the atmosphere makes you sleepy and you try to stifle a yawn.
Miguel smiles against your skin as he hears it, and he begins to run his fingers through your hair, “Go to sleep, I’ll take care of you.”
And just like that you’re asleep.
--------------------------------------------------
The next morning, you’re woken up with kisses along your naked shoulder. You smile before you open your eyes, turning around to meet Miguel’s face. He hums when you turn to him, pulling you against him more and kissing your cheek. You chuckle at the affection, kissing the crown of his head as you rake your hands through his hair.
“Morning, hermosa.” He mumbles to you, eyes shining at your presence.
“Good morning, handsome. Want some coffee?” You reply, smiling wider when Miguel nods.
You get out of bed, grabbing Miguel’s button up from last night off the floor. You button it up just enough to cover everything, and you hear Miguel groan from the sight from his place on the bed. You giggle, promising to be quick as you leave his room. When you go downstairs, the place is still trashed from the party. You roll your eyes at the mess, feeling bad for the cleaners and already knowing you’re going to offer them help. Luckily, the kitchen is still functional and you begin to brew Miguel’s coffee. You hear footsteps approaching as you fill a mug, turning to see Gabe.
He’s rubbing his eyes when he enters, the tell-tale expression of a hangover on his face. He pauses when he sees you, squinting as the sunlight pours from the kitchen window.
“What are you still doing here?” He asks gruffly, eyes falling to the mug of coffee in your hands. You don’t like coffee, he only knows because you complained about it all the time when he got you one.
You roll your eyes at his tone, setting the spoon down on the sink. You grab the mug and begin walking over to Gabe. For a moment, he thinks the coffee is for him and he begins to reach out for it. But he pauses as your hand cups his cheek mockingly and you coo at him like he's simply a toddler with an attitude.
“Now, now, Gabe. That isn't how you should treat your step-mom, is it?”
#cherry's requests🍒#miguel o'hara#miguel o’hara x reader#miguel o'hara x y/n#across the spiderverse#miguel ohara x you#atsv miguel#spiderman 2099 x reader#spiderman 2099 x you#miguel o'hara smut#miguel x reader#miguel spiderverse#miguel spiderman#miguel o hara#miguel atsv#astv miguel#spiderman 2099#miguel x you#miguel ohara#miguel ohara x y/n#miguel ohara x reader smut#miguel ohara x reader#miguel o'hara x you#miguel o'hara x reader#atsv#spider man 2099#Spotify
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Most Likely To
Alexia x reader
warnings: none
~~~
It was currently almost Valentine's day, so Barcelona was having all the team couples do some short interviews to post on the actual day.
Alexia was not a fan of this, but she saw that you were excited, she reluctantly agreed. She wanted to maintain her professional captain persona, but she also knew that it was important for people to see that she was also a normal person at the end of the day and that it was ok for her to be dating a woman.
~~~
"Hey, how was your interview," you asked Mapi and Ingrid as they walked out of the media room. They had their interview right before yours.
"It was really good we had to see who knew each other better and Ingrid won. I forgot her first pets name." Mapi told you. "I think you guys are doing the who is mostly likely to challange. I am excited to see if we learn anything new about big tough Ale over here that we didn't know." You laughed at this agreeing that you would make sure the fans learn how much of a softie Ale is for you.
~~~
You and Alexia then walked into the room as the media people explained how it would work and set up your mics. The interviewer then got started facing the camera, "Ok today we have special guests Alexia and Y/n. Today they will be playing the who is most likely to challange. They each have a paddle with their face on one side and the others face on the back. I will ask some questions and they have to show the face of who they think it fits better. At the end we also have a couple questions sent in by fans. Let's get started with the first question.."
"Ok we will start off very easy. The first question is who is most likely to forget their boots at home?"
You both immediately held up the side of the paddle with your face.
"I may have forgotten them before the champions league final. Luckily someone had an extra pair in my size. Ale always asks me three times if I have my boots now before we leave the house." You responded laughing towards the camera.
"She is very forgetful, she even forgot her passport before a game onetime and had to fly in the next day. I definitely made her run extra laps for that." You definitely gave Alexia a few heart attacks from all the times you forget things.
"Who is most likely to cry during a sad movie?" the interviewer queried with a grin.
You both exchanged a glance. You raised Alexia face as she reluctantly did the same. It was no secret to you or the team that Alexia had a soft spot for emotional films, often shedding a tear or two during particularly touching scenes.
As the interview progressed, the questions delved deeper into your relationship, sparking laughter and fond memories between you and Alexia.
The interviewer grinned as she posed the next question, her eyes flickering mischievously between you and Alexia. "Alright, who is most likely to hog the blankets in bed?"
You both hesitated for a moment, exchanging playful glances before simultaneously flipping the paddles to reveal the others face.
You chuckled, nudging Alexia playfully. "Come on, admit it. You're the blanket thief."
Alexia raised an eyebrow, feigning innocence. "Oh, please. You practically cocoon yourself in the blankets every night."
As the interview drew to a close, the final question sent in by fans brought a sense of warmth to the room. "Who is most likely to surprise the other with a romantic gesture?"
Without hesitation, you both raised your paddles, a shared smile of affection passing between you. Despite the playful teasing and occasional disagreements, there was no doubt that your love for each other ran deep, evident in the small gestures of kindness and thoughtfulness that defined your relationship.
As the cameras stopped rolling, Alexia pulled you into a tender embrace, her voice soft with sincerity. "You know, despite my initial reservations, I'm glad we did this. It's nice to show the world a different side of us, to be able to share our love openly."
You returned her embrace, kissing her cheek lightly, feeling a surge of gratitude for the woman standing before you. "I couldn't agree more, bebé."
The fans absolutely loved the video and seeing this more personal side of Alexia and seeing more into your relationship.
#woso#woso x reader#fcb femení#fcb femení x reader#fc barcelona femeni#alexia putellas one shot#alexia putellas x reader#alexia putellas imagine#alexia putellas#woso blurb#woso imagine#woso fanfics
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“…I would have killed you.”
Astarion x Reader (tav is gender neutral / little bit of angst / Astarion kills some creeps / comfort sorta?)
CW: VERY VAGUE mentions of (but avoided) unwanted advances (not by Astarion or Tav; but directed towards Tav.)
if anyone likes this concept I may do another chapter?
If Astarion had a tail? They were sure it’d be lashing about right now like a furious cat. He urged them into the room, immediately softening when they were alone, cool hands moving to cup their face. He winced at the blood.
“What the hells were you thinking, rushing off alone like that!?” He barked, the fear in his eyes betraying the fury in his voice…he looked as if he may cry. “I was just going to check out a quick lead, I figured I could do that alone…” Tav sighed, shaking their head as they peered up at him. “I planned to just be in and out.”
They’d settled in at the Elfsong Tavern for the night, desperate to have a bed for once. Their little party was happy to have a moment to relax and drink, but Tav had noticed a sewer grate when they’d come upon the tavern, and intended to expend a moment of their time to atleast check it out.
Of course, Baldurs Gate at night was a dangerous place. Outside of a tavern? Even worse. A few drunk humans had tried to flirt, and got a more than a little angry when denied. Cue Astarion; rushing in from the shadows and tearing out the throats of the unlucky ones without a second thought.
He’d dragged Tav away from the gruesome scene, softly hissing fury at them for being so foolish.
And that’s where they were now, nestled in the safety of their room, both of them covered in blood. Tav gave a shudder, running a hand through their hair. Astarion watched them with piercing eyes, fury evident in the way his eyebrows were furrowed.
“…I’ll run us a bath.” He spoke, saying nothing more as he stood and slinked away. The second he was out of their sight? He let himself crumbled a little, hand settled over his mouth as he worked to process what had happened. Those men could’ve hurt Tav. They could’ve-… He used to be the one who would prowl in the night, taking innocent victims love and then their lives. It made him feel sick to his very core.
He’d thought nothing of it at the time; why would he? He’d not had a choice. He’d never had a choice. And yet, he’d grown complicit. It was hard not to. He couldn’t help it, and besides, why should he care for anyone else, when no one had tried to save him? Of course, Tav had come along and flipped his world upside down, showed him he could grow…but growing hurt.
Tav sat stock still on their bed, staring up at the ceiling. They hated being scolded like a child, and yet they knew Astarion was just /scared/. Just like he was when Araj offered them that potion. Just like he was every time they’d been downed in battle; always the first at their side. Always the first to bark and berate them, then tenderly tend their wounds. He had no idea how to even begin to process those feelings…and so he lashed out.
Of course, that didn’t necessarily make it okay…just understandable. Something they’d work through together. They’d been working through.
They were so lost in thought they almost didn’t hear Astarion call out, stumbling to their feet and over to the tub settled behind an old partition. He was already settled inside, gazing out the window next to the tub.
He looked utterly stunning in the moonlight, it almost shone on his wet, porcelain skin. Water dripped from his face - now clean of all the blood. He finally tilted his head to gaze at them, and though his expression was stoic? There was a pain in his eyes. Slowly, Tav peeled away their clothes, eager to rid themself of the blood and dirt from the past few days.
Astarion’s gaze didn’t leave them, always fond and adoring. His arms wound tight around their waist as they slipped into the tub, pulling their soft body against his. Settling his face against their shoulder, he inhaled their scent. Blood, flesh, warmth. Alive.
“I am sorry, you know,” he whispered against their skin, lips trailing over it. “For…ugh, /overreacting/. I was just— I was worried, okay? I saw how those men were eyeing you off, like you were a piece of meat, a prize to be won, and it— …it made me think… of myself. How I used to be.” Though it was frantic? His voice was hardly above a whisper, so meek compared to his usual manner.
“That— you had no choice,” Tav said quickly, whipping around with lighting speed so they could gaze at him. Astarion stared at them, piercing red eyes full of sadness, eyebrows furrowed. “I know. I just—…” he shook his head, resting his forehead against Tavs, gazing into their eyes.
It was quiet for a moment, only the sound of the sloshing water as the pair adjusted.
“I would have killed you.” He breathed, a tense silence filling the room at his words.
He’d spoken them before, at Cazadors palace, just before the fateful reunion that rendered the vampire’s plans obsolete, that freed the spawn that Astarion had unknowingly created.
A shaky breath was the first noise to escape the silence, as Tav wound themself around Astarion, as best as they could. He pressed his face into their shoulder, breathing them in, focusing on the sound of their soft heartbeat. Fingers tangled into white curls, holding him close as the two of them quietly ached.
“You don’t ever have to be that again.” Tav whispered, soon pulling away from the embrace to cup his face in their hands, and he gazed at them like a sad puppy as he melted into their loving embrace.
“I know,” Astarion responded, hands gently clasping their wrists, kissing over their palms… he hoped that one day? He could believe that.
#baldurs gate tav#bg3#fic#astarion#astarion ancunin#astarion x reader#Astarion angst#astarion x tav#fanfic#bg3 fic#bg3 astarion
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NOTHING'S GONNA HURT YOU, BABY.
SIMON "GHOST" RILEY X FEM!READER
summary reader gets injured while looking out for the team and simon riley worries.
cw descriptive scenes of reader getting injured, cod canon violence, stab wounds & blood loss, worried!simon riley. angst!!!!! hurt with tiny bit of comfort (from simon to reader) NON-DESCRIPTIVE READER. tell me if i missed anything!
a/n is this deserving of a part two? does it feel rushed? is THIS really how i want to enter the cod mw2 fandom!?!! so many questions.
masterlist | taglist
"Ghost," you spoke his name in a hushed tone, mainly to hide from the enemy but also to hide the shake in your voice.
"I'm here, Owl. I'm coming to get ya." You could hear Ghost running, and you tried to focus on the sounds he made instead of the stinging pain on your thigh and side.
It was your fault. All of it. You were supposed to be on the roof, not on the goddamn ground. You're a sniper, for fuck's sake. But being above ground, you spotted two men making their way to where the team's getaway car was. You weren't allowing them to steal your vehicle, but if you shot at them, it would alert the others, and your position would've been compromised.
You knew how to fight. Although you never liked engaging the enemy face to face and your eyes were better used above ground, thus why you were a sniper and why they called you Owl, Ghost and Soap trained you to take down men as big as them.
The first man went down quickly, he was skinny, and you surprised him. He was gurgling on his one blood in seconds. The second guy pinned you to the wall. You took your second knife from your right thigh strap and pierced his stomach twice. He was slipping from your grasp when you felt the knife you'd used on him puncture your thigh.
You screamed. A shriek left your mouth before you could stop it. Your thigh throbbed as you landed a final blow on the side of the man's neck. You stumbled off the wall, blinking the tears and black dots away. You heard someone call your name through comms, but you didn't have time to answer.
The third man came behind you. He must've heard you scream. He circled his buff biceps around your throat and squeezed. Fight and flight kicked in. Andrenaline was pumping in your bloodstream, and, without thinking twice, you bit his bicep. Hard.
He cursed and moved away from you for a split second, and you got a chance to suck in a breath. You stumbled forward, but he caught you, spinning you around and pulling you so impossibly close.
At first, you didn't feel it. A shot rang out, and his body slumped forward, distracting you. The man was dead in your arms, and his blood had splattered on your face and continued spilling on your shoulder. Your head shot up to your station—that's where the gunshot had come from. Gaz asked you if you were okay. You tried to nod, and that's when you felt it.
Your ears started ringing. You stepped back, the man falling completely from your grasp and onto the ground. You choked on your breath. Your hand instinctively fell to your side and then rose in front of your face. You were bleeding from two places now.
Gaz called for you again, but you didn't answer. You felt dizzy, and as much as you tried blinking those black spots away, they just wouldn't go. You leaned against the wall. Ghost ordered your whereabouts, and Gaz answered him hurriedly, adding that he could see you losing consciousness. So, that's who shot from your position. Ghost confirmed that he was coming your way.
And that's how you ended up in this position.
"Please, hurry." Your cry of pain made the lieutenant's pace pick up.
Ghost always had some sort of a soft spot for you. Your kind-hearted, friendly nature and bubbly personality didn't help his growing infatuation. You were too sweet for your own good, and he swore your sarcastic comments directed mostly at Soap always managed to melt his heart.
The guys weren't oblivious—they could see how Ghost always stared at you. His hard eyes seemed to soften when looking at you. Actually, his whole posture changed when you were around. Ghost was always near you, a soft hand placed on your lower back and guiding you when you were in the dark during missions, and glances were thrown at you when you were too quiet to make sure you were doing okay.
Soap and Gaz had joked about his fascination with you, asking him why he never made a move. He'd shut them down and called them inappropriate before lowering his head to hide how flustered he felt. He thought burying those teenage sentiments at the very back of his mind would be the best. He's never been good at expressing his feelings, and for fuck's sake, he was your superior.
But as he heard your breath come out in gasps and Gaz telling him to hurry up through comms, he felt panic inside him. His steps became more urgent, and his grip on the gun tightened. He was almost there.
"Don't move. I'm coming to get you." Ghost's voice was filled with utter panic and anxiety, and he took a breath to get rid of the shake in his tone. "I'm almost there, darlin'."
Fuck.
He hadn't meant for that to slip out. He heard your breath hitch. Fuck. Fuck. Fuck!
He turned the corner, and there you were, slumped on the wall, holding your side with your palm and breathing heavily. He placed his gun in its holster and ran toward you. You collapsed with a groan, your forehead touching his vest.
"I'm sorry, Lieutenant. I'm so sorry. They were—They were trying to escape with our c-car, and I couldn't let—I couldn't let them—" You gasped for breath as Ghost looked around at the dead bodies.
It was dark, but he could make out three silhouettes, definitely larger frames than yours, and they all lay dead in a puddle of their own blood.
"It's okay, it's alright, love. I'm here now. I'm not goin' anywhere." A soft whimper escaped your lips, and he felt your body give in to the fatigue caused by the blood loss.
Ghost picked you up, requesting the rest of the team to meet him at his location. The car was unlocked and untouched, and his heart swole with pride. You'd taken out three soldiers to protect the team and secure their getaway transportation.
You mumbled his name as he placed you in the backseat. He quickly got in, and pulled you in his arms again, one palm pressing on your wounded side and the other on your bleeding thigh.
Soap slipped in the driver's seat, Gaz following right behind him. "How's she doing, Lt.?" The former asked, glancing behind him once.
"She'll be fine if you move this goddamn car!" Ghost's tone was sharp, but Soap didn't take it personally.
"Where to, Ghost?" John asked.
"The safe house. Make sure no one follows us. As soon as we're in the clear, Gaz, you call Price. Tell 'im to send evac." Gaz nods curtly, followed by a yes, sir.
"Simon." You shift, snuggling closer to his body.
The frown on your face deepens. Simon looks down at you. His heart hasn't stopped its rapid beating, and worry mixed with panic is still swirling in his blood. He wants to tell John to hurry the fuck up, but he knows the soldier is going as fast as possible.
You whine in distress, your eyes blinking ever so slowly. Your ears ring, your gaze is unfocused, and your eyes are glassy with tears ready to fall.
"Shh, it's alright, love," Simon whispers. "You're goin' be okay."
"Am I dying?" You speak in hushed panic.
Simon shakes his head quickly from side to side as if your words burned him. "No, you're fine. Nothing that can't be fixed, okay? I can fix it." He's trying to convince himself more than he's trying to convince you.
"Are they after us?" He shakes his head again. "So, we're safe? I'm safe?"
"Nothing's gonna hurt you. As long as I'm here, no one's hurting you again, ya hear me?" The finality in his voice is the reassurance you need to soothe you.
You feel your eyes drooping again, and the ringing in your ears finally fades out. "Thank you, Simon."
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#simon riley#simon riley x reader#simon riley x you#simon ghost riley#simon ghost riley x you#ghost mw2#ghost mw2 x reader#ghost x reader#ghost cod#ghost cod x reader#call of duty#call of duty: modern warfare ii#cod mwii#simon riley angst#simon riley fluff#angst with comfort#hurt/comfort#idiots in love#fluff#frank writes
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I'll Crawl Home To Her - Wanda Maximoff Oneshots
Summary: A rewrite of the fight scene in WandaVision, with a less aggressive but equally painful discussion.
Warnings: canon-typical Westview angst, talking about magical submission and free will, established relationship, some grief mentions, rough kissing just because I can, love confessions/reaffirmations | Words: 1.644k
A/N-> I'm just rewriting loose scenes from WandaVison, none of which are really going to end up in anything bigger. But I hope it's a decent read.
General Masterlist | AO3 | Wattpad
-&-
“It’s not often that you get a dog and bury them the same day.”
To your line, Wanda could have chosen to mumble in agreement. She could have said she was sorry, or she could have chosen to remain silent.
Instead, she chooses sarcasm, as if she had a good idea of how ridiculous everything was starting to get around that town.
“Well, life moves pretty fast out in the suburbs.”
You end up sighing, able to feel the anger slowly building up in you. Wanda continues to put toys away, and you decide to wipe your hands on the nearest dishcloth before turning to your wife.
"I spoke to Norm this morning." You start with a serious look on your face, and Wanda, oh your beautiful, stubborn wife, makes a mocking expression. You don't understand why she's acting this way. "He told me things that really frightened me, Wanda."
It was her turn to take a deep breath, the confidence in her expression wavering for a second. There was only one balcony between the two of you, but somehow the emotional distance was immeasurably greater.
Wanda looks you in the eye. "What's that supposed to mean, darling?"
“You tell me.” You hit back without hesitation. But what you get from Wanda is a tired sigh, falsely innocent.
"I didn't know it was charades night again." She continues to mock.
You can't remember if Wanda was ever cruel, but it's a fact that you can't remember anything that happened before Westview.
"I got scared because he was scared, Wanda!" You insist, approaching the counter to lean on one hand, while the other gestures your despair. "It was like a different person, a real, suppressed personality crying out to be released. It was accidental, of course, to discover this. But I'm not an idiot, Wanda. I can see what you're doing. The things that are changing around us every time something gets out of your control. And I don't understand why, and you won't talk to me, and I'm so scared!"
The tears in your eyes match hers. "Stop." She pleads earnestly, but you shake your head.
"You don't want this." You say.
Despite the emotion in her eyes, and the thick tears, Wanda gives a short, ironic laugh, her head tilting slightly. "Don't I?"
"If you did, I wouldn't know. I wouldn't be able to see, to question.” You sigh.”You’ve always been so... extraordinary." Her expression suddenly flinches at the compliment. "Your abilities, your power, I can't tell what happened before this place, but I know about now. There's not a trace of doubt in my mind about you, about how magnificently powerful I've always perceived you to be. Not even about how much I love and trust you." Wanda swallows dryly at your words, but you give a sad sigh. "Then I don't understand why you keep letting me see the flaws. If you're going to lie to me, leave me in the dark. Because I think I'm losing my mind little by little. I can't ignore the suffering of those people, and I can't ignore the uncertainty that grows in my chest every second. I can't remember anything, Wanda. I see those pictures on our walls, those fabricated memories, and nothing reaches me. I can't even recall if I had any kind of family before this place."
Wanda comes around the counter with a certain desperation, her hands reaching for your face. "You have a family. Me and the boys, why can't that be enough?"
Your hands reach for hers. "It's not that, sweetheart. Our family is perfect. This life is the closest to heaven I could get. But I can't be at peace with it at the cost of other people's suffering. I can't ignore their pain."
"I'll help you think of something else." She responds with a nod, pulling your face in to kiss you firmly.
Kissing Wanda has always been intoxicating, a sensation that's easy to get lost in. But fresh in your mind is your coworker, terrified and begging you to get away from this place. Get away from your wife.
You pull away, breaking the kiss and ignoring the way your whole body protests. Wanda is equally out of breath, but the gleam in her eyes hides a deep irritation.
"Wanda, I-
"Save it." She interrupts, turning her back on you. You catch a glimpse of a new form of anger and hurt in her eyes at being rejected. You sigh impatiently, following her instantly.
"You're not going to run away from this conversation, Wanda, I need to know what's going on in this place!" You practically beg, yelling at her back because Wanda just keeps walking towards the stairs. You huff angrily and teleport immediately into her path. She jumps slightly in fright, grimacing with impatience and taking two steps backward, away from the steps as you insist; "Please. Talk to me."
"There's nothing to say if you don't believe me when I tell you there's nothing wrong." But you shake your head at the words, one hand pulling your hair back. Wanda chuckles humorlessly. "See, you already have an opinion on the subject. On me. I'm already the villain in your story, darling, so why don't you keep digging behind my back and end this whole thing?"
She mentions going upstairs again, but you stand in her way, one hand pulling her face towards yours. The kiss is more intense than the one in the kitchen, heated enough for Wanda to gasp into your mouth.
She's ready to reciprocate with the same eagerness when you break it, the hand on her cheek caressing her skin.
"Because I love you, Wanda Maximoff." You whisper against her lips, and it's not just the words, but the devotion in your gaze that makes Wanda's legs wobble. You offer her a small smile, an air of lost battle in your expression. "There is no part of me that would plan and act against you. Even here, with the truth scratching at the walls, where I could if I wanted to access the suffering of these people, I wouldn't turn against you. I can only beg for a little mercy, my love. Take the pain away from me, the doubt. I will be loyal and complicit in any of your desires and decisions."
Wanda sobs, hugging you before you can say anything. You can't remember anything that came before, but she can, as clearly as if she were there. And Wanda loved every trace of your old self as much as she loves this Westview version, willing to do anything she asks. It's not so different from the person she lost, with the most striking exception that makes it clear in that moment, that nothing could ever replace the real you.
You would have taken Wanda out of that fantasy. For better or worse, even if she hated you afterward, even if she never forgave you, you wouldn't let her cross lines through grief, you wouldn't let her lose herself again. After all, that's what you swore to do after witnessing first-hand all the guilt she carried for Ultron's madness and the accident in Lagos. Your true version would never let her drown in sorrow and hurt people again.
But the Westview version, so sweet and devoted, would stroke her back and say the same thing you always used to say, even if now you can't remember it.
"I'm sorry if I made you cry, princess, I never meant to. Look at me so I can bring your smile back."
Wanda holds on a little tighter, tears staining your blouse. The vast majority of the times she had heard this phrase, it had been at much less dramatic moments. While she had a passion for sitcoms and things that made her laugh, you liked more emotional movies that could make you cry. And every time you had a movie session, you would tell her that, easily achieving your goal of putting a smile on your girlfriend's face. But there were also times when the situations were dramatic - a poorly planned workout where Wanda ended up hurting you and tears of guilt escaped her and you tried to make her feel better by saying that same phrase. Or when you had a fight and it got a bit out of hand, and you started your apologies that way.
Or when Thanos took you from her, and Wanda had to hear it twice because of a time stone.
She doesn't want to hear it for a third occasion.
You're ready to say something, maybe apologize, when Wanda breaks the hug. But she holds your cheeks and presses her mouth to yours. Slowly, allowing you to taste even the saltiness of her tears. There's a shaky sigh escaping from between your lips as she breaks away again, but your affected gaze changes to a curious one as red irises stare back at you.
"I'll make it better." She whispers, nodding slightly. You swallow dry, closing your eyes and resting your forehead against hers.
The only thing you whisper is exactly what makes her hesitate. "I trust you, Wanda."
She ignores the internal conflict and lifts one of her hands to stroke the back of your neck. It must be easy, especially within Hex, to change your mind. To make you no longer question.
You repeat that you love her, and Wanda brings trembling fingers to your forehead.
She suddenly becomes very aware that consciously, she could never do that to you. She would rather you found out everything and hated her than take away your free will. To turn you into another puppet.
She sighs shakily, ready to say she'll put an end to this whole place when the doorbell rings.
Nothing could prepare her for seeing her twin brother again, but that's another story. Besides, not that Wanda has any idea, far away from there, a fallen Avenger is being stitched back together while calling her name in their sleep.
#wanda maximoff x reader#wanda x reader#elizabeth olsen x reader#scarlet witch x reader#wanda maximoff#marvel imagines
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So, I was wondering if you could come up with some head cannons on what would cause the winged characters' (i.e. Lucifer, Lute, Adam, Valentino) wings to suddenly unfurl?
Heyy this ask was a lotta fun and I hope you enjoyy! I also added Vaggie to this bc she has wings too- either way, hope you like it anon!!
(Word count = 1255)
WARNINGS!! [probably our of character for vaggie, I've never written her before, SUGGESTIVE PARTS WITH VALENTINO, LUCIFER AND ADAMS, kinda angsty and cringe??
Vaggie
》She can usually control her wings just fine, they don't usually unfurl without warning and they always stay hidden
》However, when she's upset they usually fly out
》 during an argument with her, she started getting all quiet before lashing out and yelling at you, her wings flying out
》Such beautiful wings too, a shame it had to happen at a time like this.
》She realized what she had just done and felt awful, a gut wrenching awful. she got misty eyes before tell you she needed to be alone for a bit
》 after a few hours Vaggie came running back to you, embracing you into her arms and hugging and holding you tightly
》her wings wrapped around you before she let out a bunch of incoherent sobs
》 “I-i'm so sorry I'm sososo sor-ry sorry- i-i really didn't mean to I jus- I just … I'm so sorry..” she was really broken up about it.. it was a big argument after all, so it made sense.
》 You sighed, taking her into her arms, and dragging her to the couch, accepting her apologies and telling her “It's okay, it wasn't anyone's fault. tensions were just high and- it's okay just let it all out m’kay? dear?” you said, your voice was shaky
》You'd be lying if you said Vaggie's crying didn't affect you, you tried hiding your tears, trying to be strong for her before a few tears slipped and you both laid on the couch.
Valentino
~ Like vaggie, he has good control of his wings and rarely use them
~However, his wings are a lot more sensitive.
~ his only real weak spot actually, that's why he usually just keeps them tucked away
~ poor you though, you didn't know, it's not really your fault for being so clueless.
~You were just done filming, and you stayed after. you and val were good friends and weren't ever really on bad terms so you always chilled with him after scenes and certain sets
~When you looked behind him his wings caught your eye, you almost forgot he was a moth and had wings, so you were pretty intrigued.
~Oh but how curiosity killed the cat. walking up behind him you brushed his wings and ran your hands up and down them
~He shivered, turning around quickly to see you messing around with his wings. he was pissed, hes fucking killed bitches for pulling such bullshit stunts like this.
~But he didn't really wanna kill you, at least not yet, he chuckled as an evil smirk spread across his face. “Were these what you wanted to see mi vida?”
~His wings spread out, largely, they were probably double your size, you looked at them with awe before Val grabbed you by the wrist “Now. you should know not to ever touch these again. but since your so fucking dumb, I'll just have to show you a lesson hm?”
Lute
*Lute, unlike the other two usually always has her wings out
*She likes showing em off, she thinks they're pretty
*And well, she's not wrong they are some of the most beautiful wings you've ever seen
*but the thing is, she always has them out. like to let them stretch and what's the point of hiding them? Shows how she's an angel, exterminator, and a bad bitch.
*So a better question really is, what makes Lute hide her wings? since she always has them out when and why does she put them away? two reasons.
*Well first answer is pretty simple, when she's in front of someone greater and higher than her role she'll put them away for the time being. It's just proper manners after all. Plus if she had her wings out in front of someone higher, they'd realize how much better she and her wings are, and let's not make others insecure now Lute.
*The other reason is a bit more complicated
*When lute is feeling sad or down, shell curl up her wings behind her and wrap her arms around her knees and just curl up into a ball
*You found her like this once, and god were you so confused- you tried asking her what was wrong but to no avail, she barely gave you a response let alone an answer to your question
*You sighed, assuming she just didn't really wanna talk about it. so you sat down next to her and rested your head on her shoulder, grabbed her hand and smiled “I'm here for you Lute.” you spoke softly. and you swear you caught a glimpse of lute blushing and smiling, but who knows- she denies it every time anyway.
Lucifer
☆ Lucifer is 50/50.
☆While he usually has his wings kept tucked away behind him, he's no opposed to having them out, he doesn't really care
☆Whether his wings unfurl or not is usually random too, he doesn't even notice when they're out half the time too.
☆He'll usually use them to get things high up or travel from place to place, only for convenience purposes
☆He doesn't like looking at his wings though, he's insecure about them, being a constant reminder of what he's been through, the poor fallen angel.
☆He has good control over them, they don't ever “accidentally” unfurl out when he gets mad or anything like that. he uses them only when he needs to
☆But you? oh no you're different. it's almost like their your wings with the way you have such control over them
☆By just a light touch the fluff up and out, they're usually unkempt by the way Lucifer doesn't like his wings too much, but you'll always fix up his wings for him, preening and brushing them for him
☆They will always fly out on cue when you two both end up on his bed after a long day, making out and leaving hickeys all over him
☆Fuck him infront of the mirror with his wings out
Adam
-Adam is a lot like lute, where he'll have his wing our all the time, except it's even less likely for him to ever hide them
-For being the first man he is kinda unkempt though.
-you always have to preen him and take care if his wings for him, keeping up his handsome and pretty wings
-If it weren't for you this idiot would just be walking around with messy and gross unkempt wings.
-He should really be thanking you though, he makes preening him so goddamn difficult
-He always squirms and moves around, and he keeps his wing close to you, barely letting you touch them let alone preen them
-Adam hates when people touch his wings. he won't let anyone do it, your the exception however
-and even being the exception he will be so stubborn with letting you touch them despite the countless times you've both done this, he will always be stubborn and difficult and he will never fully sit still and let you help him.
-He growls as you touch his wings, folding them around himself making it harder for you. as you groan in annoyance he reluctantly moves them a hit, making things easier for you “Just be fuckin careful bitch..” he mutters under his breath.
-Unlike Lucifer though, Adam will surprisingly try to hide his wings during sex. As said before he doesn't like people touching his wings so there's no real point for them to be out like that, he will fail though, and when he cums they spread out for a bit, before the post but clarity hits and he hides then once again, you can never win.
-xoxo Ari
#lute x reader#adam x reader#lucifer x reader#vaggie x reader#valentino x reader#hazbin hotel x reader#hazbin hotel#hazbin hotel smut#hazbin hotel fluff#hazbin hotel angst#hazbin hotel comfort#hazbin hotel romantic#lute#adam#vaggie#Valentino#lucifer
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episode eight: the gate
“Drop me and die.” Your knuckles are white as they clutch the rope, your body shaking with exhaustion as you try to ease your way down without further injuring your ribs.
Steve laughs and tightens his grip on your waist, steadying you as you finally inch the rest of the way down and land with a gentle thud onto the ground. “Like I’d ever dream of letting you go.”
This time, you know it’s his words that cause you to shiver, not the exhaustion and pain.
Summary: you encourage nancy to take your place (everyone is shocked), you and steve are the newest babysitters in town, billy ruins things as always, tunnels are weird when youre concussed, you remind jonathan of an old promise, and when the snowball comes you make your own promise with steve that you know you can keep.
Rating: general, although very violent
Warnings: use of y/n, fem!reader, intense violence and blood, weapons, monsters, probably more im forgetting
Words: 20.1k (no one speak to me)
Before you swing in: this is it ,,, the final episode of season two <3 this chapter was both the easiest and hardest one ive ever written. there are scenes in here that i put so much into, and im so proud of where everything landed. handling so many relationships and dynamics was so incredibly difficult, but i adore where they ended up. i hope you guys do, too :)
-
“Eleven,”
“Mike.”
The two kids embrace, Mike holding desperately onto El as if he’s afraid she’ll disappear again any second, and she’s holding onto him just as tightly as their tears mix together.
You watch them with a hand over your heart, your own tears spilling over. You can’t believe this is real, that El is standing in Mike’s arms alive and real.
The way they cling to each other brings more tears to your eyes. It’s obvious to everyone how much they love one another. You think about the endless batches of brownies you baked for Mike, how many nights you spent in his basement standing watch, looking for any sign of grief, in case he needed you there to remind him that it’s okay to cry.
“Is that…?” Max asks Lucas, and he nods.
“She’s back.” You exhale, feeling Dustin’s fingers slip between yours. He knows how much you missed El, he’s spent just as many nights keeping watch over you, reminding you to cry as well.
Mike pulls away, his eyes shining with tears. “I never gave up on you. I called you every night. Every night for–”
“353 days.” El finishes for him, you’ve never heard so much emotion in her voice. “I heard.”
You think about the nights you found Mike huddled underneath the fort he once built for El in his basement, clutching the radio to his chest, passed out from exhaustion. You never mentioned it to the boy, knowing he’d simply deny and tell you it was nothing, but hearing El confirm what you already knew still hurts.
“Why didn’t you tell me you were there?”
You look around the room now, wondering the same as Mike, and then your eyes land on Hopper. While everyone looks surprised or confused at El’s reappearance, Hopper’s face is one of resignation.
Everything clicks.
He knew.
Hopper sees that you’ve pieced it together and steps forward. “Because I wouldn’t let her.”
You step forward as well so that you’re next to Mike, knowing that this will only upset him more. “You knew.”
“What the hell is this?” The chief ignores you, now speaking only to El. “Where’ve you been?”
“Where have you been?” El’s eyes darken, but she immediately melts when Hopper pulls her into a hug. By watching their body language, you can tell that they love each other dearly, and distantly you remember hearing about the daughter Hopper once had.
Though you’re angry he hid El from you, you’re thankful they found one another in the end. You’ve never seen Hopper so tender with someone, and El seems to feel safe within his embrace, far from the skittish girl you found in the woods last year.
“You’ve been hiding her!” Lost in your thoughts, you momentarily forget about Mike, who launches himself at Hopper and punches the man’s chest. “You’ve been hiding her this whole time!”
Hopper flinches away. “Hey–”
“Mike,” you grab his shoulders, knowing his anger will only do more harm than good, but he struggles against you as he tries to continue hitting the man. “We can all talk about this–”
“Let’s talk,” Hopper grabs at Mike’s shirt, finally forcing the kid to stop. Then, looking directly at you, he adds. “Alone.”
You look at Mike, silently asking him what he needs from you. You know the two of them need to settle their differences, that he feels Hopper’s betrayal the deepest and you trust him to make his own choices. However, with one headshake from him, you would prevent Mike from being alone with Hopper in a heartbeat.
Mike knows this, he doesn’t have to even have to ask what you mean when you gently nod your chin at him. Taking a deep breath, the boy sighs and nods at you, indicating that he’ll talk with the cop.
You let go of Mike and gently push him towards Hopper. “He’s all yours, but try not to kill him, please? I unfortunately like the kid.”
Hopper doesn’t play into your words and promptly grabs the back of Mike’s hoodie and marches him towards Will’s room. The door closes behind them, leaving you to deal with El.
Her nose is bleeding and she looks upset having Mike taken from her, there’s an exhaustion behind her eyes that you’re all too familiar with. You wrap an arm around her waist and pull her into you. “C’mere, sweetheart.”
El leans into the kiss you press upon her cheek and closes her eyes, relishing in the tenderness after the night she’s had. “Missed you.”
“And I missed you.” You place another kiss on her head. “The hairstyle suits you, by the way.”
This seems to lighten the girl up a bit, who giggles and quietly thanks you as she wraps her arms fully around you now, securing you into a hug. You allow her all the time she needs to collect herself.
When you hear Mike’s heartbroken screams at Hopper, calling him a liar, you squeeze your arms tighter around El. “They’ll be fine,” you promise her, feeling the need to reassure her of this, though hearing Mike’s screams breaks your heart.
You understand why Hopper hid El, it wasn’t safe for anyone to know about her being alive, but Mike spent the entire year grieving for her. He lost a year of his childhood mourning the loss of a close friend, of someone he loves, and it isn’t fair to expect him to accept this.
El nods at your reassurance before you’re suddenly shoved away from her.
“You’re hogging the former dead girl, Y/N!” Dustin exclaims as he engulfs El into a hug.
Lucas flashes you an apologetic smile before hugging the girl as well, focusing his attention on her. “We missed you.”
“I missed you too.” She responds, squeezing both boys tight.
“We talked about you pretty much every day.” Dustin pulls away before pointing at you. “Y/N usually just cried.”
You elbow your brother, causing him to wince. “You say that like I don’t normally cry over things.”
Dustin opens his mouth to argue, but suddenly El’s fingers are pinching at his lips as she pries his jaw open. Your brother looks at you in alarm, and you’re too stunned to do anything besides watch in bewilderment.
“Teeth.” El finally says,
You giggle, while Dustin simply stares at her as if she’s insane. “What?”
“You have teeth.”
Dustin breaks into a smile. “Oh, you like these pearls?”
When he makes an obscure purring sound with his mouth, you scoff at your brother and roll your eyes alongside Lucas. “Please, never do that ever again.”
“Eleven?” Max now approaches with a warm smile on her face, the most open you’ve ever seen the girl, and extends her hand for El to shake. “Hey, um. I’m Max. I’ve heard a lot about you.”
El looks at you and tilts her head, which you assume means she’s unsure what to do, so you step in. “Max is a friend, sweetheart.”
She eyes Max’s hand, looks up at her again, before bypassing the girl completely and going straight into Joyce’s arms.
You frown, confused by El’s unusual dismissiveness, and look over at Max. Her head is ducked down, embarrassed, and you make a mental note to remind yourself later to ask El what happened. Max is a good girl, they deserve to be friends and you know they’d get along if given the chance.
Joyce cradles El’s head and greets her with tears, and the girl responds the same. After they’ve hugged, El pulls away, her tears now ones of worry. “Can I see him?”
Joyce’s eyes flash to you, and the two of you seem to realize the same thing: it’s no coincidence that El arrived when she did. You think about what Dustin and the kids deciphered in morse code, Will’s hidden message.
Close the gate.
El is the only person you know can do it.
“Go take her to him,” you tell Joyce. “I’ll catch everyone else up.”
The woman nods, her eyes appreciative, before gently guiding El towards Will’s room.
“I’m assuming I’m ‘everyone’.” Steve says as soon as Joyce and El have left.
You laugh, finally rejoining his side. “Yeah, pretty much.”
“Alright, catch me up then. Who was the girl and why does she have a bloody nose problem?”
“Her name is Eleven, or El. Besides the Demogorgon, and Demodogs, did we ever discuss El?”
Nancy speaks up from the corner, timid. “I, uh… Didn’t tell Steve a lot. We kinda just, we–we didn’t ever really–”
“I never let Nancy explain, and I was too afraid to ask.” Steve kindly saves Nancy, and something both you and Jonathan take note of.
“Well,” you clap your hands, dispelling away any remaining tension for both your sake and the kids’ sakes. “El has these powers, she can make things move with her mind, and when she uses them she gets nose bleeds.”
Steve stares at you. “Okay…”
“Mhm. It’s just as insane as it sounds. Remember the whole Upside Down story Dustin and I told you about yesterday? Well, she can travel there and has a connection to it. With her mind. Somehow. I don’t actually know the logistics of it.”
“You’re doing great, bug.” Jonathan’s voice drips with sarcasm, but Dustin hits his chest to shut him up.
“Thanks, Dustin. Anyways, El has these insane powers and she’s the sweetest, softest person I’ve ever met. We…” your voice trails off now, still getting used to the fact that she’s alive. “We thought we lost her last year, when she killed the Demogorgon and helped bring Will back.”
“But she’s alive.” Steve concludes.
You nod, a natural smile spreading across your face. “She is.”
“If you say she’s the sweetest person you’ve ever met, then I definitely believe you.”
Steve’s words make you blush, the pure and honest way he says them, and both Dustin and Jonathan cringe. The two boys share a look, both for once on the same page in a long time, and make gagging motions.
You see this and flick both of their heads. “I know where you both sleep.”
Both boys stick their tongue out at you, and for a moment everything feels normal. Jonathan and Dustin are teasing you, Jonathan’s eyes are lit up, and your brother is carefree again.
Then Joyce returns to the living room with El and the mood becomes somber again.
They stand over the kitchen table, El stares down at the piece of paper with the “close gate” on it, and Joyce asks the question you’ve all been wondering. “You opened this gate before, right?”
“Yes,” the girl responds as you and everyone else now join her and Joyce.
“Do you think if we got you back there, that you could close it?”
El looks between you and Joyce, her gaze stony and resigned. You wonder what else she’s gone through to put such a void within her; like all the other kids, she no longer has a sweet naivety to her.
Then, slowly, El nods.
–
“It’s not like it was before. It’s grown. A lot.” Everyone stands in the kitchen, circling around Hopper as he explains exactly what the gate now is. “I mean, that’s considering we can get in there. The place is crawling with those dogs.”
You grab Dustin’s shirt and yank harshly at it. “Don’t you dare–”
“Demodogs.”
Hopper looks at him, sighing. “I’m sorry, what?”
“Please just ignore him.” You plead with the officer, knowing he’s already in a bitchy mood.
Dustin doesn’t pick up on the anger, though. “I said, uh… Demodogs. Like Demogorgon and dogs.”
“Oh my god,” you groan, rubbing at your temples. You’ve heard this explanation of the word play a million times within the last twenty-four hours. If you have to hear Dustin explain what Demodog means one more time, you think you may murder the kid.
Dustin, unfortunately, continues. “You put them together… it sounds pretty badass–”
“How is this important right now?” Hopper snaps at the boy, which only makes you more annoyed.
You put your hand up at the old man, closing your fingers together to mimic a mouth being shut. “One more aggressive comment to the thirteen year old and I will show you that Nancy isn’t the only one who can shoot a gun.”
“Uh, Y/N…” Jonathan nervously mumbles, unsure what Hopper’s reaction may be.
However, the chief simply raises an eyebrow at you, stares you down for a few seconds, before finally seeming to decide that he’s impressed with your bold comment. “I’ll make sure to remember that.”
“I can do it.” El suddenly voices from the other end of the table.
“You’re not hearing me.” Hopper’s shoulders slump. You can tell by his now defeated stance that he has yet to win an argument against El, something that you’re incredibly proud of her for.
“I’m hearing you. I can do it.”
“Even if El can, there’s still another problem.” Mike speaks up, looking around the table to ensure everyone is listening. “If the brain dies, the body dies.”
Max frowns. “I thought that was the whole point.”
“It is, but if we’re really right about this…”
“Will,” you breathe out quietly with dread, understanding where Mike is going with this.
Mike continues explaining. “I mean, if El closes the gate and kills the mind flayer’s army–”
“Will’s a part of that army.” Lucas finishes as he looks over at you, now knowing why you’ve just exhaled the boy’s name with grief.
“Closing the gate will kill him.”
Jonathan tenses at Mike’s words, and you place your hand against the back of his neck in a grounding manner. You can feel his rapid heartbeat against your hand, even from this position, and you play with his hair to try and soothe him.
He’s terrified of what may happen to his little brother, once again struck with pure terror that he could lose him. You’re not sure how many more times Jonathan can grieve his brother without losing a piece of himself.
Steve, standing on your other side, sees the way your fingers intertwine in Jonathan’s hair. The same way they did earlier with his own hair as you hugged him.
He frowns, looking away.
Everyone else falls silent as well, Mike’s words hang in the air. Your gaze shifts to Joyce, who has a deep frown on her face, and before you ask her what she’s thinking, she stands up from the table. “Follow me.”
No one says anything as you all follow the woman to Jonathan’s room, where Will lays motionless on top of the bed you’ve slept in for years. His body is stiff, the hospital gown swallows him, and the sight disturbs you.
You walk over to the boy and kneel next to the bed. It’s in your nature to take care of Will, you do this without even thinking about it. Stroking his forehead, you place a kiss against it as you watch his mom in the doorway.
“He likes it cold.” Joyce mumbles, eying the open window in the room.
“What?” Asks Hopper, standing behind the woman.
Joyce looks over at her son now. “It’s what Will kept saying to me. He likes it cold.” Then, as her voice grows stronger, she walks over to the window and slams it shut. “We keep giving it what it wants.”
Nancy and Jonathan walk over to you now, the girl remains standing while Jonathan kneels down next to you. The two of you take turns caressing Will’s forehead as Nancy starts to speak. “If this thing is a virus, and Will’s the host, then…”
“Then we need to make the host uninhabitable.”
You turn to Jonathan, not at all liking what he’s saying. “What does that even mean? He’s a kid, how do you make a child’s body uninhabitable?”
“He likes it cold.” Nancy says, as if that explains everything.
“But–”
Joyce clenches her jaw and spits out, “We need to burn it out of him.”
Everything about what Joyce has said makes your stomach twist. You look down at Will’s body, at how small he still is despite a year of trying to get him to recover, and his pale skin is almost translucent in the bedroom’s lighting.
You hate everything about what’s happening, but you hate the way Will looks lifeless even more.
If making his body uninhabitable can save him, then you have to try; you’ll simply be there to pick up the pieces when it’s done, as you always are.
The kids begin planning now.
“We have to do it somewhere he doesn’t know this time.” Mike says.
“Yeah, somewhere far away.” Dustin adds on.
“Last I checked, none of us have a hidden hut in the woods.” You say, at a loss for where else to possibly take Will. Then, Hopper clears his throat and shifts his weight. “Oh, no fucking way. You would have a hidden hut in the woods.”
“It’s a cabin.” Hopper corrects with annoyance, though there’s a slight glint in his eye as he looks at you. “Joyce and Jonathan will take Will there.”
“Well, go show them the cabin, then.”
Jonathan grabs your hand. “You’re not coming with?”
As if there’s a string tugging at the back of your head, you turn around and catch Steve’s eye. He’s standing in the doorway, eyes alert yet sad, and you know with everything within you that you can’t leave him behind.
Not when he was shaking in your arms only twenty minutes prior.
Steve doesn’t want to be alone, especially not when you’d be leaving him behind with Nancy after it’s become clear that she’s with Jonathan now.
Now, as Jonathan’s open and expecting eyes stare into yours, you do something you’ve never done before. Something you’ve needed to do ever since you were twelve and grabbed the boy’s hand on the Wheeler’s porch that fateful night.
You let go of Jonathan.
“I can’t,” you tell him, the words of denial feeling foreign on your tongue. You’ve never told him no before, never left him behind, but saying the words isn’t as difficult as you once feared. “I’ll stay with the kids, I’m better with them anyways.”
Jonathan watches you, his eyes trace over your face again and again as if drinking it in for the very last time. When he seems to find what he’s looking for, he takes a deep breath and nods. “Yeah, okay.”
His understanding of everything you don’t say almost makes you take it all back, but you don’t. Instead, you squeeze his hand and nod towards Nancy. “Why don’t you take Nance?”
Something shifts when you say this, you know Jonathan feels it as well. There’s an ease within the shift, almost akin to a soft exhale in December’s cold. It parts you with a gentle farewell, strokes your cheek as it departs, and you can faintly see its outline as it floats away.
A thread, one that has tugged within your chest in a painful ache since last year, finally loosens.
Nancy looks at you, her eyes wide. “Me?”
“Mhm,” you nod at the girl, a kind smile on your face.
It’s a monumental shift, you’re willingly encouraging Nancy to be next to Jonathan’s side rather than you. It’s an exchange of powers, trusting her to take care of the boy you love so dearly.
For once, it doesn’t feel like you’re tearing off a piece of yourself. Instead, you’re simply sharing the weight of it, of this trust, rather than losing it.
“I… I think I’ll stay here.” Nancy finally says, looking away in shame.
You don’t blame her, you know she carries a weight of guilt within her for things she couldn’t control. There’s a lot you want to say to her, a lot you have to say to her, but for now you simply nod at her, understanding. “Then I’m happy you’re here.”
And you mean it.
Steve, still quietly standing in the doorway, sees everything. He felt the shift, too.
–
“You should go with him.” Steve picks up a spare heater, he and Nancy have been sent outside to retrieve whatever they could find from the Byers’ yard.
The shift weighs heavily upon him. Your words ring in his ears.
Nancy spares Steve a glance. “What?”
“With Jonathan.” He bends down to dig through some old Christmas lights, and seeing them reminds him of you. Everything reminds him of you. “Y/N’s right. You should go with him.”
“No, I–” Nancy scoffs, uncomfortable. “I’m not just gonna leave Mike.”
Steve thinks about you, about how you’re always the one who stays. “No one’s leaving anyone.” He walks over to Nancy and helps her with a radiator she’s struggling with. “I may be a shitty boyfriend, but… I realized I’m actually a pretty damn good friend and babysitter.”
Though he never says your name, Nancy can feel it hang over the two of them. The unspoken confession that it’s because of you that Steve now accepts what has happened between them. It strikes her then, how different he is now. How differently you and the girl came to know Steve.
Nancy stares at him, her eyes are filled with more remorse than he’s ever seen from the girl. It hurts, seeing her so upset, and he wishes that things could’ve been different. He recognizes now that they didn’t stand a chance, though he’s happy they tried anyways. It was always going to end like this between them.
Steve doesn’t hold any anger towards her, he doesn’t hate her, because he still loves her.
How could you possibly fault the person you love for finding their own love?
“Steve…” His name comes through as an apology.
“It’s okay, Nance.” Steve means it, he gives her the same blessing that you did. She’s allowed to be happy, you both want her to be happy, and you have each other to lean on now. “Y/N and I will be okay.”
He leaves Nancy standing there.
–
You’re waiting to say goodbye to El, standing patiently behind Mike as the two of them make promises about coming back. It’s sweet, watching them, until they slowly start to lean in for what you fear is a kiss, so you intervene.
“Hate to ruin the moment, but I’d like to say goodbye to El, too.”
Mike glares at you. “Couldn’t wait five seconds?”
“A five second kiss is shameful, Wheeler.”
El giggles softly and pulls you into a hug. “I will be careful.”
You kiss her cheek. “Come back this time, okay?”
“I will.”
Hopper calls the girl over to get in the car so they can leave, and you quickly run over to Jonathan’s car before he can get in.
When he sees you approaching, he extends his arms out and pulls you in as he always does. No words are needed, he simply holds you so that you’re chest to chest and he can feel every breath you take. “I’ll come home to you.”
You bury your face in his neck, inhale the scent you’ve come to associate with your childhood and warm, sunny days. “I love you.”
“I love you, too.”
The words ease between the two of you, finally warm after months of being cold.
Nancy then appears, and when you notice her you break away from Jonathan. “I see you’re joining?”
“I am.” She nods. “Seems I have you to thank.”
You smile and grab her hand. Your grip is firm, but sincere. “Don’t make me regret it, okay?”
Your words are teasing, but Nancy senses the undertones of a warning. Jonathan is your best friend, she has always known this, and she knows how much weight has gone into your trust for her. Nancy understands that you’re giving her something precious to you, and she will forever be indebted for it.
“I won’t.” She promises. “And good luck with Steve and the kids.”
“Oh, I’ll need it.” You laugh, and any remaining tension that has hung over you and Nancy finally disappears.
Once Jonathan and Nancy get into the car, you stand on the porch with Steve and everyone else as you watch the cars drive away.
–
You poke around the Byers’ kitchen for some food; your stomach has been rumbling for hours and you’re sure the kids are hungry, too. However, like usual, you come up with nothing. As you dig through a cabinet, Dustin walks into the kitchen and starts clearing out the fridge.
“What are you doing?” You ask, knowing that this can’t be for anything good.
Dustin doesn’t answer, continuing to carelessly throw racks of food onto the floor.
“Hey, stop!” As you walk over, Steve suddenly comes rushing in, holding a very dead, and very disgusting, Demodog.
“Is this really necessary?”
“Absolutely not.”
Dustin groans at you. “C’mon, Y/N! This is absolutely necessary, it’s a groundbreaking scientific discovery.”
“It is a dead creature, from an alternate universe–”
“We can’t just bury it like some common mammal, okay? It’s not a dog–”
“Oh, so now it’s not a dog after you’ve stated a million times that it’s a Demodog–”
Steve steps in between you and Dustin. “Alright, alright, enough!” He begins to shove the Demodog into the fridge before you can stop him. “But Dustin, you’re explaining this to Mrs. Byers, alright?”
“You both are idiots,” you mumble, watching as Steve and Dustin pathetically try to make the giant Demodog fit into the fridge. “I’m leaving.”
You’re seriously starting to regret their friendship.
However, you know when to pick your battles, and as you watch the two boys try to maneuver the body into the fridge, you know that this is not a cause worth fighting for.
Instead, you exit the kitchen and instruct the rest of the kids to start cleaning the house. It’s a mess, glass shattered everywhere from the dead Demodog and papers thrown haphazardly around during the morse decoding.
The mess will only add more unneeded stress to Joyce’s life, so as Lucas and Max groan at you for making them do work, you stand your ground and shove a broom into their hands.
“You suck, you know.” Lucas grumbles, but Max hits his shoulder and holds the dust pan as he sweeps.
As they get to work on the shattered glass, you figure it’s best that you call your mom before you forget again. You know she’s probably worried sick about you and Dustin for disappearing so suddenly without a word.
However, when you walk over to the wall where the phone normally is, it’s gone.
“Hey, uh. Where did the phone go?” You ask Dustin, who has finally left the kitchen. “I need to call mom.”
“Oh, Nancy threw it when it rang. She went kinda berserk.”
You look towards where Dustin is pointing and see the phone, in fact disconnected, on the ground across the room. The sight makes you snort. “Guess she really likes throwing phones, huh?”
Your brother doesn’t understand the joke. “What?”
“Nevermind,” you shake your head. There’s no use explaining to the boy about a quick, five second moment from last year. Nancy had done the exact same thing when Steve had tried to call the cops when the Demogorgon originally attacked you.
Dustin mumbles something about your blood loss making you delusional, but you ignore him and begin sweeping the hallway. You order him to help, and soon the two of you are cleaning the Byers’ home.
You’ve just finished sweeping when you notice Mike pacing around the room. He’s anxious, that much is obvious, and whenever he begins to pace: trouble soon follows. He’s brewing up a plan, you can feel it.
After the fifth time the boy has paced the room, Lucas has finally had enough. “Mike, would you just stop already?”
“You weren’t in there, okay Lucas?” Mike stops pacing. “That lab is swarming with hundreds of those dogs.”
“Demodogs–oomph!” Dustin corrects, only to be cut off by your hand clamping over his mouth.
“Say it again, I dare you.” You warn him before turning towards Mike. “Look, I know it’s nerve wracking, but all we can do right now is trust El’s abilities and wait.”
Lucas nods. “Yeah, the chief will also take care of her.”
“Like she needs protection.” Max quips from the floor, dustpan still in hand.
You feel a hand place itself on the small of your back. The weight of the palm is starting to become familiar to you, the length of the fingers and the way they splay across the span of your back are slowly becoming recognizable.
Without turning, you know that Steve has joined you.
“Listen, dude,” he says in a placating voice to Mike. “A coach calls a play in a game, bottom line, you execute it. Alright?”
You wince. While you’re impressed that Steve is trying to intervene and reason with Mike, you know immediately that his approach will fail. Trying to reason with the kid using a sport analogy is like trying to explain magic to a mathematician.
“Okay, first of all, this isn’t some stupid sports game.” Mike rolls his eyes, which you expected. “And second, we’re not even in the game. We’re on the bench.”
“RIght! So–so my point… My point is…” Steve stumbles over his words and Mike’s unwavering insistence. When he can’t think of a better response, he lets out a defeated sigh. “Yeah, we’re on the bench, so–uh, there’s nothing we can do.”
You pity Steve, honestly. It takes years of careful analyzing and strategic planning in order to prepare yourself for an argument against Mike Wheeler.
Patting his shoulder, step in to help. “What I’m sure Steve means is that while we may be benched, that doesn’t mean we can’t keep the homefront secure.”
“That’s not how sports work, Y/N.” Steve whispers obscenely loud, but quickly shuts up when you glare at him.
“Stupid sports analogy aside, there’s nothing we can do besides keep watch here and wait for everyone to return.” Even though you know you’re saying the right thing, that it’s best you follow Hopper’s order of staying put, even you don’t believe the words you’re saying. “We may not be able to help right now, but later, I promise we will be the best damn homefront ever.”
Dustin clears his throat. “That’s not entirely true.”
You turn to him and a sigh escapes you when you see the plan already forming behind his eyes. “I can’t argue with you, can I?”
“Nope.”
“Great, go on then. Share with the class what you’re thinking.”
“I mean, these Demodogs, they have a hive mind.” Dustin begins. “When they ran away from the bus, they were called away.”
Lucas thinks about this. “So if we get their attention…”
“Maybe we can draw them away from the lab.” Max concludes, and you take a second to marvel at how seamlessly she’s integrated herself into the party.
However, you then remember what Lucas said. “Wait, what do you mean by ‘get their attention’? Why do those words scare me so much?”
Mike talks over you. “We can clear a path to the gate.”
You have a multitude of questions and Steve seems to be thinking exactly what you are when he loudly exclaims, “Yeah, and then we all die!”
“That’s one point of view.”
“Dustin, that’s quite literally the only way to look at it.” You flick his hat and he swats your hand away.
Steve points at you, nodding in agreement. “That’s a fact.”
“Thanks, Steve–” Mike’s body slams into yours as he runs past you. “Christ, Wheeler!”
“I got it!” The boy shrieks, running out of the room as he wordlessly instructs everyone to follow. He kneels in front of the fridge and points wildly at one of the pictures Will has drawn. “This is where the chief dug his hole, this is our way into the tunnel.”
“Into? What do you mean into?”
Mike shoves past you again and runs into the living room. “Here, right here.” He stands in the middle, where all the pictures have interlocked together to form a center. “This is like a hub. So, you got all the tunnels feeding in here. Maybe if we set this on fire…”
“Fire?” You shriek as Steve quickly follows with, “Oh, yeah that’s a no!”
Dustin, however, is on board with what Mike is planning. “The mind flayer would call away his army.”
“They’d all come to stop us!” Lucas waves his arms madly at you, as if saying this will get you to agree to the plan that’s forming.
You throw your hands up in surrender. “Look, I recognize that we could maybe do something–”
“Hey!” Steve looks astonished that you’re even considering this.
“I mean, if we can help then I don’t see why we can’t just–”
Mike shakes your arm now, deciding that your hesitation is an agreement. “We then can circle back to the exit! By the time they realize we’re gone–”
“El would be at the gate!” Max now also is looking at you. “C’mon, Y/N. You have to admit that it’s a solid plan.”
You bite your lip. It is. That’s the problem with the Wheelers. They come up with these insanely dangerous and insane plans, yet they’re also always brilliant. You know it’s risky, Hopper could barely even explain the tunnels to you without shaking in fear, but… Who’s to say that the Demodogs won’t simply go after Will and Jonathan at the cabin? Or kill Hopper and El before they even reach the lab.
It’s obvious you can’t just sit here and wait.
El has to close the gate, that much is certain, and because of this: you have to help her. You have to help everyone, keep them safe.
“It’s a solid plan,” you finally breathe out, and all the kids start to cheer.
“I knew you were my favorite sister!”
“Dustin, I’m your only sister–”
“Hey! Hey–” Steve pushes himself in between you and the kids, clapping his hands to break up any further conversations. “Hey! This is not happening.”
Mike tries to argue, “But–”
“No, no, no!” Steve places his hands on his hips like a disgruntled father. “No buts. I promised I’d keep you shitheads safe, and that’s exactly what I plan on doing.”
You don’t like the way Steve is speaking to the kids, commanding them as if he’s their parent. “Hey, no. We aren’t doing that.”
“Doing what?” He looks at you, eyes wide as he quickly gathers that he’s upset you. The fight in his voice is gone, replaced with quiet guilt.
“We don’t ever command the kids, not like that, anyways.” You step away from them and pull Steve aside with you to give the two of you some privacy. “Look, I know you promised Nance you’d take care of them, but I also promised Jonathan. We have to help, Steve.”
His face twists with confliction, and the two of you are caught between what Nancy wants and what Jonathan wants. They both want the kids to be safe, but they have different viewpoints of how they expect you and Steve to do so.
Nancy wants to keep her brother out of it, Jonathan wants to save his brother’s life.
“Y/N…” Steve breathes out, begging you to change your mind.
The confliction on his face hurts to look at, you hate that you’ve made him feel this way, but you can only shake your head at him. “I’m sorry, but we’re doing this.”
“Yes!” Mike rushes over to you and surprises you with a hug. “This is why I keep you around!”
“Okay, no.” You push the kid away and hold him by the shoulders to ensure he listens to you. “That doesn’t mean I think we should all go down into the tunnels. I’ll go, and Steve will stay here with you guys–”
“What? No! You’re not going down there by yourself, Y/N.” Steve doesn’t understand how you would expect him to ever let you do that. “We’re all on the bench, okay? We’re waiting for the starting team to do their job.”
“This isn’t a stupid sports game.” Mike groans in annoyance before focusing his attention back to you. “And no one in the party gets left behind. If you go, we all go.”
The sincerity in Mike’s voice warms you. He’s defending you, protecting you how you’ve always protected him, and you’ve never been more impressed with his bravery; it’s because of this, his bravery and admiration for you, that you know you have to go into the tunnels alone.
It would kill you if Mike got hurt, if any of the kids got hurt.
Steve sees the way your eyes shine at Mike’s words and his stomach twists. He knows he can’t change your mind about going alone, he knows you’d never, ever let anyone get hurt. That you’d lay down your life for these kids and those you love.
The bloodied cloth wrapped around your rib cage reminds Steve that he’s a part of it all now. You have laid down your life for him.
And he’s never, ever going to let you get hurt because of him again.
Steve steps forward and gently grabs your arm, he needs you to understand how much your selflessness terrifies him in this moment. “Y/N–”
The revving of an engine cuts him off.
It’s a familiar sound. You’ve heard this car before. The sound of it has seared itself into your memories. The hair on your arms stands up, and within seconds Max is at the window, looking out in fear.
“It’s my brother.” Max’s voice is terrified. Not even in the junkyard, when Demodogs had been raining down on you and the kids, had you heard such terror in the girl’s voice. “He can’t know I’m here.”
You’re at her side in a heartbeat, tugging her away from the window. You’ve seen the way Billy acts around Max, you remember the harshness he displayed in the parking lot. The same harshness that left bruises on your waist when he had you pinned against the wall on Halloween. “I won’t let him touch you.”
Your words have a bite to them. Max hears the oath within them, she has never believed anyone when they’ve told her this. “He’ll kill me. He’ll kill us.”
“He won’t.” You promise her, trying to control the pure rage you feel because of her brother. He can do whatever the fuck he wants with you, but he’s hurt Max for the last time.
Steve watches your exchange with Max and feels his hands clench into fists. Anger fizzes through his body. As you console the girl, your eyes meet his and he nods. With one simple head movement, the two of you have silently agreed to do whatever it takes to ensure that Billy never hurts Max ever again.
–
“Am I dreaming or is that you, Harrington?”
You’re standing behind Steve.
Billy hasn’t seen you yet.
“Yeah, it’s me. Don’t cream your pants.” Steve’s hand tightens around your arm as he guides you further behind him. He doesn’t like that you’re here with him. He hates the way Billy’s eyes roam over your body without any shame.
But you insisted on coming outside, and Steve has never been able to tell you no.
You step out from behind Steve and force your hands to rest by your side in nonchalance. “God, I was hoping you’d be allergic to milk.”
Billy raises his eyebrows when he sees you; you’ve surprised him. “Why, it’s always a pleasure seeing you, sweetheart.”
Steve’s clenched fists only tighten when he hears Billy’s nickname for you. He hates the implications behind it, the way he says it with such sickly sweetness that leaves Steve’s stomach feeling raw.
He can’t imagine how you feel whenever you hear it, and it only makes Steve hate Billy more.
“It’s never a pleasure for me.” You cross your arms as Billy now stands in front of you and Steve.
The teen laughs darkly and eyes Steve up and down. “What are you doing here, amigo?”
“I could ask you the same thing… Amigo.” His voice carries an air of indifference, but you know that tomorrow there will be indentations in Steve’s palms from his fingernails.
“Looking for my stepsister.” Billy lights a cigarette and smirks at you. “A little birdie told me she was here.”
“Huh, that’s weird. I don’t know her.”
Billy smirks at Steve’s words and motions over to you. “Yeah, but this little lady does.”
“Max isn’t here.” You say, forcing your anger down to play along with Steve’s indifference. “Have you checked the quarry? A lot of kids like to hang out there.”
Smoke surrounds you as Billy responds, “Don’t know what the hell you’re talking about, Henderson.”
With every dodged question, you’re only angering the teen more. If you and Steve keep this up, you’ll only make everything harder to manage. You try to think of something to distract Billy, but all you know about him is that he’s a sleazy pig with a cigarette addiction.
Then, it hits you.
His weird fascination with you.
If you use it against him, maybe you can get him away from the Byers’ house long enough for Steve and the kids to leave.
You step closer to Billy, ignoring every part of you that screams in rejection. You’re covered in blood and your hair is probably a mess, but you bat your eyelashes anyways and quirk your head up at Billy with an innocent smile. “I could show you, if you want.”
Just as you hoped, your sudden interest in him catches Billy’s attention. He presses his chest against yours and looks down at you, a pleased smile on his face. “And what would you be showing me, sweetheart?”
“The quarry, silly.” You giggle, trying not to gag at the reek of cigarette smoke. “It’s secluded… No one really goes down there. It’s, well–this is embarrassing.”
You duck your head down and act as if you’re blushing. Billy takes the bait and uses his fingers to lift your head up to look at him again. “Go on, tell me.”
You make a show of biting your lip. “Well, it’s where every teen in Hawkins goes to… Be alone.”
Billy’s eyes darken again, even more interested in what you have to say. He leans down, his lips inches from yours, and you know you have him right where you want him.
Please, you think. I just want to protect the kids.
His breath fans across your face and he’s about to agree, to have you lead him away and forget all about his bitch of a sister, when Steve roughly pushes him away from you.
“Max isn’t here, man.” He spits out, his once controlled anger now spilling over the edge.
You want to scream at him, you almost had Billy. He was seconds away from agreeing, and the stupid idiot pushes him away from you?
Billy looks between you and Steve and lets out a low chuckle. “Sorry, Harrington. Forgot that she’s yours.”
Steve moves as if to hit him but you quickly grab at his jacket, stopping him. Billy sees this and laughs again.
“You know, I don’t know… This whole situation, Harrington.” He shrugs, exhales more smoke. “I don’t know. It’s giving me the heebie-jeebies.”
“Oh yeah, why’s that?”
You’re silent, hand still clutching Steve’s jacket.
Billy exhales more smoke. “My thirteen year old sister goes missing all day, and then I find her with you in a stranger’s house, alongside Y/N Henderson, the town’s darling, all bloodied and bruised. And you lie to me about it.”
From an outsider’s perspective, you hate how much Billy makes sense.
To anyone else, this would look incredibly incriminating against Steve.
Yet, Steve still tries to deny it all. “Man, were you dropped too much as a child, or what?”
“I’m assuming he was.” You voice, looking nervously at Billy as he seems to grow more and more volatile.
“I don’t know what you don’t understand about what Y/N and I have told you. Max isn’t here.”
Billy leans in close to Steve and points with his cigarette towards the house. “Then who is that?”
You and Steve turn, and your heart drops when you see Max and the boys all quickly duck their heads out of the window.
“Shit,” you breathe out, knowing it’s over.
You really hate those kids sometimes.
“Listen,” Steve tries to make up some excuse, but Billy roughly shoves him to the ground.
“I told you to plant your feet.” Bully sneers as he looms over him. You try to help Steve up, but you’re pushed aside as Billy then stomps on Steve’s ankle with a sickening crunch that makes your own wounded ankle sting.
As he storms towards the house, you quickly help Steve up, He pushes you away. “I’ll be fine, go help the kids!”
“But–”
You can’t just leave Steve while he’s hurt, but every time you try to help him up, he bats your hand away.
“Go!”
From inside the house, you hear the kids start to scream, and you reluctantly leave Steve behind and run inside. When you enter, Billy already has Lucas pinned against the wall as all the kids scream at him to let the boy go. Lucas is hitting at the teen’s chest desperately, but nothing is working.
“Stay away from her.” Billy spits in the boy’s face, who is paralyzed with fear.
“Lucas!” You all but throw yourself onto Billy’s back as you begin hitting and pulling his hair. Anything you can think of, you try, but it’s no use. With Billy’s size and build, you’re nothing but a fucking bug to him.
“I said get off of me!” Lucas kneels Billy in the groin, sending you and the teen flying back, but at least he’s let go of Lucas.
You let go of Billy and place yourself between him and the boy, your breath comes out ragged. You don’t know what you’re supposed to be doing. All your mind can think of right now is protecting the kids, but in the midst of screaming and exhaustion and blood loss, you can’t think of anything.
Billy tries to get to Lucas again, his teeth bared with fury. “You’re so dead, Sinclair. So dead!”
In your exhaustion and fear, you call out for the only person you can think of. “Steve!”
He’s at your side in a heartbeat, quickly looking at you to make sure you’re okay, before he flings Billy away from you and Lucas. “No, you are!”
Steve’s punch lands perfectly, with a precision far from his pathetic punches thrown last year against Jonathan. It’s incredibly hot.
Billy begins to laugh in a manic manner that frightens you, but all of his attention is now on Steve, so you use this opportunity to drag Lucas over to the rest of the kids and make sure everyone is okay.
You trust that Steve has everything else handled, but you make sure to keep an eye on him anyways while you take care of the kids.
“Are you okay?” You check Lucas over for any injuries, who numbly nods as he’s still in shock, while Billy screams something about always wanting to meet King Steve.
“Get out.” Despite Steve’s leveled voice, his tone is vicious.
Billy swings again, but Steve manages to duck just in time before he lands yet another punch to the boy’s face.
“Yes!” Dustin shouts with glee, but you remember the fight from last year. How Steve had lost miserably against Jonathan. A boy half of Billy’s size.
While you’re impressed with Steve’s fighting improvement, you’re not sure how longer he’ll be able to keep this up. When more punches land on Billy and all he does is laugh menacingly, you know you don’t have a lot of time left.
You’re fucking terrified.
The kids are still cheering Steve on when you turn to them, panicked. “You guys need to leave. Now.”
“What? But Steve’s winning!” Dustin says as Steve’s fist connects with Billy’s jaw.
The sound makes you feel sick.
You’re pleading now, terror clawing at your throat as you do so; your words slur together. “Leave, sneak out, and–and go through the front door and hide. Get help, okay? Just, go and find someone while Steve and I handle this–”
The sound of glass breaking against Steve’s head alerts you that your time is up.
Billy hadn't been fighting back before. But now? He’s angrier than you’ve ever seen him.
As Steve stumbles back in pain, you try pleading with the kids again. You don’t want them to see any more of this, of what might be about to happen. This isn’t just some fight between two teen boys. You know Billy better than that.
He’s out for fucking blood.
“Dustin, take everyone outside now!”
“We can’t just leave you!” Mike shouts and the others all nod.
You want to cry. “We don’t have time for this, just–”
“Shit!” Dustin knocks against you as he dodges a punch meant for Steve.
Steve crashes into the Byers’ bookshelf and you’re practically shoving the kids out of the door so that you can go and help, but they refuse to leave you and Steve behind.
Billy has Steve by his jacket. “No one tells me what to do.”
With a sickening thud, he bashes his head into Steve’s and sends him flying to the ground.
“Steve!” There’s blood pooling from his head and you’re gripped by fear so intense that you’re afraid you’ll pass out any second.
Billy is relentless, now standing over Steve as he lands punch after punch. Every time his fists slam against Steve’s face, you feel them land against yours as well. Billy’s screaming like a fucking maniac and none of the kids are listening to you and Steve is getting bloodier by the second.
You’re torn.
Dustin and the kids are staring at you, eyes wide with fear, and the front door is open; you could take the kids and run, but Steve is lying motionless on the ground.
It’s either him or the kids.
And yet it’s the easiest decision you’ve made all night.
“Get off of him!” You throw yourself onto Billy’s back for the second time tonight.
You yank at his hair and try to scratch his face, but within seconds Billy throws you over his shoulder. “You demented bitch.”
Your head catches on the edge of a coffee table and you land with a thud on the ground. Almost immediately you feel blood drip from your eyebrow and you groan. Fuck. Definitely another concussion, but when you look over at Steve, he looks worse than you feel, and you force yourself to get up.
Billy watches as you pathetically try to stand, and he laughs with cruelty. “What, want some more, sweetheart?”
More blood drips down your face and you feel the scratches on your rib cage re-open. Every bone in your body aches, but you pull out your switchblade and extend its knives. Your fingers skim over the engraving on its handle, reminding you to use the weapon with love.
“This is your last chance.” You clutch at your side, hoping you look more intimidating than you feel. “Leave my family alone.”
Billy sees your knives and laughs at you. “Am I expected to believe that you’d actually hurt me?”
Your grip tightens around your switchblade. No one ever believes that you could be so cruel, so vicious. Billy is looking at you as if you’re some pathetic little girl, as if you haven’t killed Demodogs and Demogorgons. He’s looking at you as if you aren’t the sole reason everyone you know and love is alive.
You were once told to use the switchblade with love, that there was never any room for love when it came to violence.
Now, as the kids are screaming at you to run and the pool of blood around Steve continues to grow, the onslaught of love that is always within you overtakes the fear.
“I warned you.” With one quick movement, you swat at Billy and cut deeply into his shoulder.
He lets out an enraged scream and instinctively his fist goes flying. Pain erupts in your left eye and you know that you’ll have the worst time ever trying to explain to your mom later how you got a black eye.
“Fuck!” You groan, dodging every other punch that Billy throws your way as he starts to approach you. With one eye quickly swelling up and the other blinded by blood, you do your best to stumble away from Billy, but it’s no use.
Your foot catches on the carpet and almost as quickly as you fall, Billy is right there to wrap his hands around your throat and squeeze. You inhale sharply and panic overtakes you as you claw at his hands, drawing blood from him as well, but his fingers only tighten.
“Y/N!” Dustin’s vocal chords strain from how loud he screams your name.
Billy seems to get a kick out of hearing your brother plead for your life, and he squeezes even tighter as you flail. “Not so tough now, are you?”
You struggle to free yourself, to do anything, but you can’t.
For the first time since Will went missing, you truly believe that you’re about to die.
Steve is practically dead on the ground below you, he’s bleeding so much from his head that you’re terrified he’ll never wake up, and the kids are defenseless as they scream with tears in their eyes.
Your baby brother is about to watch you die.
Spots begin to form in your vision and it’s getting harder and harder to move your limbs. To make them do as you command.
You know it’s your brain shutting down from the lack of oxygen.
I hope Jonathan doesn’t blame himself.
Your world fades to black.
Billy screams.
And you feel your body drop to the ground.
–
The first time you wake up, it’s to Dustin huffing as he tugs at your arm. “God, you’re heavier than you look.”
You promptly pass back out.
The second time, it’s dark outside and you register that you’re cold, but your eyes sting and you’re out again.
You wake up a few more times, always in a daze, and never more for a few seconds at a time, before the feeling that you’re moving wakes you up for good.
It takes a moment for your eyes to adjust to the dark, your left eye barely even opens, and the pounding in your head is blinding in itself. Blinking a few times, you look down and finally notice that Steve is sprawled on your lap. You’re in the backseat of someone’s car.
Your head is resting against someone’s shoulder. When you try to lift it to see who it is, you feel someone gently guide your head back down. “Shh, it’s okay. Don’t move too fast, alright? Don’t want you yacking on us.”
“Dustin?” You immediately regret trying to speak. Your voice comes out hoarse and raw and the pain is so intense that it only makes your head pound more.
“Right here, sis. Try not to speak, you sound like a frog.”
You try to sit up again, forgetting that Steve is sprawled on top of you, and your movements cause him to wake up. When his eyes manage to blink open, he tilts his head at you and mumbles, “Nancy?”
“Wha–” Again your voice cracks and you feel so delirious. Are you Nancy?
Steve attempts to wipe away the blood on his face but Dustin stops him with a gentle chiding. “No, don’t touch it.”
Steve brings a shaky hand up to your face and carefully rests it against your cheek. “You’re… You’re bleeding.”
Dustin puts the hand down. “Hey, buddy. Y/N is bleeding, good job. You’re bleeding, too. It’s okay though, you put up a good fight. I mean, he kicked your ass but you put up a good fight.”
Your brother’s words ring in your ears. He’s saying so much and you’re trying to swallow down the vomit that threatens to spill out.
“Okay, you’re gonna keep straight for half a mile, then make a left on Mount Sinai.” A voice rings out, one different from Dustin’s.
Was that Lucas?
“What’s going on?” Steve slurs, trying to process everything happening. He blearily looks back up at you. “Who’s driving?”
“Not me,” you manage to croak out.
A beat of silence passes.
Then, at the same time, you and Steve realize: Max is the one driving.
You’re more awake now and you try to say more, but your throat has swollen shut from speaking and it feels like it’s on fire.
Thankfully, Steve is here to say everything you can’t. “Oh my god!”
“Just relax, she’s driven before.” Dustin reassures, slapping your hand away when you try to reach over to the driver’s side.
“Yeah, in a parking lot.” Mike says, and you notice he’s also here now.
“That counts.”
You want to scream at Max to pull over and demand the keys from her, but your bruised throat prevents you while your bleeding rib cage traps you in. While you can’t say anything, all Steve can say is, “Oh my god.”
“They were gonna leave you guys behind–”
“Oh my god.”
“But I promised that you’d be cool, okay?” Again Dustin slaps your hand away and all but shoves his leg over you so that you remain seated.
Max then presses down on the gas pedal and the car increases its speed, which only makes the entire situation worse.
Steve, rightfully, freaks out. “Whoa, whoa, whoa! What’s going on? Stop the car, slow down!”
You twist in your seat and blindly grab at Steve’s hand, both thanking him for voicing all that you can’t and also to try and prevent the poor boy from passing out again.
“I told you he’d freak out! At least Y/N shut up!” Mike shouts over at Dustin.
While you’re flattered that you’re officially cooler than Steve in Mike’s eyes, if you had a functioning throat right now, you’d be letting out some very choice words.
“Stop the car!” Steve screams again, but the little rainbow bandaids on his cheek take away from his commanding nature.
You hope that Dustin at least chose some pretty bandaids for your face.
“Everybody shut up! I’m trying to focus!” Again, Max doesn’t at all help the situation at hand.
“Wait, that’s Mount Sinai. Make a left!” Lucas points to where Max needs to go and you wonder why they trusted the girl, who just moved to Hawkins a week ago, to know where to go.
“What?”
“Make a left!” Lucas screams, and Max quickly yanks the car to the left.
You, Steve, and the kids all scream as she hits what you hope is a mailbox. As the car jerks, you topple onto Steve and let out a painful, weird mix of a croak and shriek as the car continues to turn. Dustin tries to steady himself against you as he screams and Steve fully grabs your waist and uses you to shield himself from danger.
What a hero.
Then, you almost go flying out of the windshield as Max suddenly stops the car.
“Hello!” Steve exclaims, gripping you tightly still.
Dustin giggles. “Whoa!”
“Incredible,” Mike breathes out.
Meanwhile, you think your heart fell out of your ass about five blocks ago.
“I told you. Zoomer.” Max smirks with pride.
“She terrifies me,” you whisper, and Steve nods in agreement.
The kids begin getting out of the car and seem to have some unspoken plan being set into motion. Dustin pats your shoulder before leaving you behind with Steve as the others go towards the trunk.
Not knowing what the fuck is happening, you kick Steve so that he falls off of you and onto the grass so that you can follow after your brother. When you get out the car, you march over towards where all the kids are standing and silently demand an explanation.
Mike notices you first. “What? Cat got your tongue?”
You refrain from shoving his face in the mud and point towards the goggles he’s holding. He sighs and hands it to you while Dustin ties a bandana around your neck and Max grabs a gallon of gasoline.
Seems like they’re sticking to the plan from earlier, then.
When Steve realizes this, as he is gripping onto the car for dear life, he whines. “Oh, no. Guys.”
Everyone ignores him and he continues to try to stop what’s happening. You hobble over to him, a new wave of nausea and pain washing over you, and lean against him helplessly. There’s no use trying to explain to him that the party won’t listen. For now, you simply relish in his presence and enjoy how he feels against you.
“We are not going down there right now!” Steve, though gentle to not jostle you around too much, waves his hands in the air as he screams at Max. “I made myself clear. There is no chance we’re going to that hole, alright?”
Similar to last year, Steve begins to spiral in his fear. He wraps his arms around you and places you against the car before he runs over to Dustin and throws that backpack that’s in the kid’s hands. “This is not happening!”
You slowly walk over and grab the thrown backpack, hoping that Dustin can reason with the teen.
“Steve, you’re upset. I get it, but the bottom line is that a party member requires assistance and it is our duty to provide that assistance.” When you join Dustin’s side, he helps you put the goggles on and brings your bandana up over your mouth. “Now, I know you promised Nance that you would keep us safe. So keep us safe.”
He hands Steve the backpack you retrieved.
Steve looks between you and your brother. You both look absolutely ridiculous in your get up, and he knows he has no other choice but to agree. His eyes meet yours and he silently asks if you’re sure about this, he will always look to you for the answers.
You nod, hoping that the small head shift is conveying what you physically cannot say.
I’m here, the kids need us, and I need you with me.
Steve hears it, sighs, and grabs the backpack from your hands.
“Well, let’s get going.” He motions for you and Dustin to lead the way.
–
“I got you,” Steve’s voice is soft as his hands graze your waist. He’s standing below you, already having jumped into the tunnels so that he can help you climb down the rope safely. You’re not sure if it’s his touch, or the way his voice drips with promises to protect you, or the simple fact that you’re bleeding and bruised that makes your body weak.
“Drop me and die.” Your knuckles are white as they clutch the rope, your body shaking with exhaustion as you try to ease your way down without further injuring your ribs.
Steve laughs and tightens his grip on your waist, steadying you as you finally inch the rest of the way down and land with a gentle thud onto the ground. “Like I’d ever dream of letting you go.”
This time, you know it’s his words that cause you to shiver, not the exhaustion and pain.
“Ahem.”
Turning around, you see Dustin glaring at you and Steve while Lucas is stifling laughs. You roll your eyes at them and step away so that you aren’t standing so close to Steve, and he seems to think the same and distances himself as well.
“Holy shit,” Steve breathes out, now finally examining the tunnels.
It takes your breath away as well. The tunnels are terrifying, but oddly kind of cool. There’s a dim light within them, almost ghostly, and yet it’s beautiful in a way that you can’t quite describe. Small particles float through the air, and you reach your hand out to feel them against your skin. It tickles, akin to snowflakes, and the reminder makes you yearn for winter again.
Mike’s flashlight distracts you as he shines it towards a random section of the tunnel. “Yeah. I’m pretty sure it’s this way.”
“You’re pretty sure, or you’re certain?” Dustin asks, doubtful.
“I’m 100% sure, just follow me and you’ll know.”
As soon as Mike’s declaration of leading leaves his lips, you and Steve share and look and immediately stumble towards the boy.
Like hell you’re letting him lead. He’s a child, and he’s also incredibly horrible at navigating. Last time you let him guide the way, you ended up finding El in the middle of the woods.
“Whoa, whoa, whoa!” Steve flashes his light at Mike. “I don’t think so.”
“What?”
“Any of you little shits die down here, I’m getting the blame. Got it, dipshit?” Steve takes the map from Mike’s hands and then looks over at you. “I guide, you take the rear?”
You nod. “Good luck.”
Steve smiles, his sarcastic bravado now gone, before he suddenly clears his throat once more and shouts. “From here on out, I’m leading the way while Y/N makes sure none of you idiots get lost. Come on.”
The kids groan and roll their eyes at him, but they fall into line and do as they’re told.
Dustin walks in front of you and offers you his hand. He knows the uneven terrain will only increase the chances of your ankle acting up. “How’s the ankle?”
“Hurts,” you rasp, accepting his hand as you hobble along. He hums and helps you navigate, the goggles covering his nose makes him sound nasally. “Did I put up a good fight at least?”
Your throat strains to get all the words out, but Dustin seems to understand what you’ve said and laughs. “Yeah, you did a much better job than Steve–What the hell?”
Dustin stops walking and suddenly looks up. Unsure what he’s seen, you look up as well and gasp. Above you rests a giant flower-bud looking thing, except it’s pulsing in a very concerning and gross way and is the size of a car. When it starts to expand even larger, you realize before your brother does what it’s about to do; you tug at his hand and try to run away, but Dustin doesn’t move.
Then, in one grand blow, the bud explodes and releases what you can only imagine are pollen spores, and they spray all over Dustin. “Shit!” He falls to the ground, screaming and rolling around as if he’s just been shot, and all you can do is stand there and silently wait for him to calm down enough for you to talk to him. “Help! Y/N, help!”
You motion to your throat, but Dustin gags and scrambles to stand up before promptly falling back down again in his haste.
Steve and the others have now joined and everyone is crowding over your brother with worry. “Dustin? What happened?”
“Pollen.” You croak, and Steve looks even more confused now.
“It’s in my mouth!” Dustin spits onto the ground and coughs, wheezing every few breaths. “Some of it got on my mouth. Shit!”
Mike points his flashlight at you. “Any more useful insight from Kermit the frog?”
You glare at him, although the nickname is funny and you hate that it’s clever. You clear your throat, cringe at the sting it sends down your body, and respond, “Rose-bud thing. Exploded. He’s fine.”
Everyone tilts their head at you, not at all understanding what you’re trying to say, and you groan. It’s incredibly frustrating that Billy left you unable to say a goddamn thing without immeasurable pain. You honestly would’ve preferred that he stab you or something, because your intelligence and wit are so crucial to who you are as a person.
Plus the whole Kermit the frog thing kind of sucks, regardless of how funny it will be later.
“I’m fine.” Dustin gasps out. “As Y/N said, a rose-bud thing sprayed me.”
“You guys serious?” Max shakes her head, at a loss for why she’s even here.
“Very funny, man.” Steve looks at you and teases, “And Y/N, I expected more from you.”
You give him the finger. “Dustin, not me.”
“Mhm,” he’s starting to walk away again, resuming his leader position through the tunnels, but he sends you a wink. “C’mon, Hendersons.”
The rest of the kids follow after him while you help Dustin up and wipe him off. He’s a mess, and he’s clearly still frightened, but he seems reassured by your presence and begins to calm down. When he’s ready, you and Dustin follow.
The tunnels are long, windy, and incredibly disturbing to be in. You can’t believe that something this intricate and vast has been laying underneath Hawkins for god knows how long. The ground beneath your feet is squishy and it takes both Dustin’s hand and immense concentration to not trip.
Steve leads, his flashlight serving as a beacon to focus on despite the pounding in your head. The bandana tied over your nose only makes the ringing in your ears worse, but you’ll leave inhaling mysterious Upside Down particles to your brother.
After a few minutes of walking, you’re starting to fear that the poorly drawn map from Mike really is just a poorly drawn map. Then, Steve stops. “Alright, Wheeler. I think we found your hub.”
You flick your flashlight around and your eyes widen. It’s huge. In the center lies a mound of what you hope is just mud, but you see a bone or two stick out from it and look away. To your left, there’s easily five or six more tunnels, each varying in width and height, and to your right is the same.
Seeing how vast the tunnel system is, you’re thankful for Mike’s genius little brain.
“Let’s drench it!” Except the vigor in his voice frightens you and you consider that he may be the world’s next mad scientist.
However, a plan is a plan and you’ve already made it this far, so you set to work on spraying the area with gasoline. Between you, Steve, and the kids, within minutes you’ve created the world’s most flammable labyrinth.
When you’re done, Steve guides the kids back towards the exit and you make sure everyone’s behind the two of you. He kneels, flicks out his lighter, and turns to everyone. “Alright, you guys ready?”
“Ready,” Max and Lucas say.
Dustin tightens his hand around yours, preparing to help you run as fast as you can with your ankle. “Light her up.”
Steve flicks his lighter open. “I am in such deep shit.”
“Together.” You nudge him with your shoe, and even though his face is hidden, you know he smiles.
He takes a deep breath, winds his arm back, and flings the lighter into the center of the hub.
Immediately everything bursts into flames. In the blaze, the strange roots that had been lying dormant on the ground now come to life as they flail against the heat. They twist and whip around, writhing in pain. The tunnels themselves almost seem to come to life as it writhes in pain.
“Go, go, go!” Steve yells, pushing everyone back to start running.
You stay behind with him, making sure all the kids have started to run before you finally let Dustin tug you along as well. The boy is screaming, hopping and dodging roots as best as he can while squealing, “Oh my god, oh my god, oh my god!”
Steve takes the lead now, having somehow memorized the way out. “Let’s go!”
You’re disoriented. Dustin’s hand is gripping yours so harshly and it’s taking everything within you to keep up, but your ankle throbs and your left eye has only continued to swell from the punch earlier. It’s becoming increasingly difficult to follow along, and in your disorientation you lose track of Mike.
When he falls, everything within you snaps back into focus. You tear your hand from Dustin’s and you’re at Mike’s side in a heartbeat, but already the roots have started to wrap around his leg; he screams. “Help! Y/N, help me!”
Your hands shake as you reach for your switchblade, adrenaline runs through you so violently that you feel lightheaded. Mike’s screams are the only thing keeping you grounded right now. As he panics, you roughly grab his shirt and force him back before you start to hack at the root with your knives.
“Pull him back!” Steve instructs the kids, who have now joined. “Y/N, watch out!”
You have just enough time to cut through one root before dodging Steve’s bat as he hits at the other. It takes a few swings, but with one final blow, you and the kids are able to pull Mike free and help him stand back up.
“You good?” Lucas pants, patting MIke’s shoulders for any injuries while Dustin asks, “You okay?”
You pull Mike into you and quickly hug him, damning whatever time constraint you currently have against you. Your hands are still shaking, which Mike feels, and he gives you a quick pat before pulling away. “Glad you care, but–”
“We gotta go!” Steve steps between you two, bat still in hand, when a growl erupts from behind him.
Dustin shoves everyone behind him before you can stop him. He’s recognized the growl before you have. “Dart.”
The Demodog growls again. He’s bigger than ever before, now practically fully grown. His growth distracts you long enough to miss Dustin slowly starting to approach him. When you do, you immediately try to stop him.
“Dustin–” Fear overtakes you.
“Steve, hold her back.” He orders. “Just trust me, okay?”
Steve’s arms wrap around you and you try to fight back. “No–”
“Y/N,” he whispers into your ear, keeping an eye on your brother as well. “If you freak out now, Dustin will get hurt.”
He’s right, you know he’s right, but your brother is only a foot away from Dart now and he’s now smaller than the creature. One wrong move, and he’s dead.
Dustin kneels in front of Dart and you feel your heart drop. You don’t dare breathe as he takes off his goggles and mask and leans in closer to the creature. “Hey, it’s me. It’s just your friend, it’s Dustin.”
Dart slowly inches forward as Dustin continues to talk. “You remember me? Will you let us pass?”
This time, Dart’s entire mouth opens as he snarls at Dustin.
Again you struggle in Steve’s arms, but he only tightens his hold on you as you watch your baby brother, terrified, face off against the Demodog.
“Okay, okay, I’m sorry.” Dustin lowers his voice, unwavering against Dart’s malice. “I’m sorry about the storm cellar. That was a pretty douchy thing to do. I blame Y/N, she’s always the one who makes me do the right thing.”
The little shit has you scared out of your fucking mind, and yet he has the nerve to somehow make this your fault.
If he gets out of this alive, you’re never, ever letting him go again.
Dustin reaches into his backpack, eyes never leaving Dart. “You hungry?
“He’s insane,” Lucas whispers in awe. Both you and Steve tell him to shut up, scared that any noise will cause Dart to attack.
“I’ve got our favorite.” Dustin waves the candy in front of Dart’s face. “See? Nougat.”
As soon as the Demodog sees the candy bar, his demeanor shifts and he happily approaches Dustin. Within seconds, your brother has managed to re-tame his weird Upside Down pet, and for a brief second you feel bad that Dustin can’t keep him.
“Look at that. Yummy!” He places the candy on the ground as a peace offering and he starts to motion behind him, waving for you and everyone else to start moving. “Eat up, buddy.”
Steve guides Lucas, Max, and Mike past Dart and through the tunnel that was previously blocked by him, but you stay behind. Your knives are drawn; you’re not leaving your brother’s side.
“There’s plenty,” Dustin coos to the creature, placing down one last candy bar before standing up. When he sees that you’re still there, he grabs your hand and starts to walk away with you. Feeling his hand, warm and alive against yours, is enough to calm you down enough to follow. Before the two of you leave, however, Dustin turns around one last time to look at Dart, a sad smile on his face. “Goodbye, buddy.”
Dart doesn’t show any reaction, too busy devouring the candy he’s been given, and you gently tug Dustin along to safety, albeit with some guilt. He really loved that little lizard thing.
As soon as the two of you are out of danger, you pull Dustin into a bone crushing hug. “You’re stupid.”
“Stupid brave,” he mumbles against you, though his arms are tight against your waist. He had been scared, too.
You snort and pull your bandana down so you can kiss the top of Dustin’s head. “Just stupid.”
“Guys, we gotta go.” Steve whispers, feeling bad for interrupting your moment with the kid. He can still feel the way your body shook in his arms, how he could hear your terrified heartbeat as he held you back. He felt horrible for doing it, but he promised Nancy he’d keep the kids safe, and Steve knows that she also wanted him to protect you, too.
At Steve’s urgent whisper, you reluctantly nod and pull away from Dustin. With one last shoulder squeeze, you pat his back and tug at his hand to start running. As you run, the ground trembles beneath your feet. You’re the first one to fall, Max and Lucas not far behind. “Fuck!”
Steve has your hand within his in seconds and he gently pulls you up. His face is obscured from the goggles and banana, yet you can see the concern when he looks at you. When he stands you back up, he pulls you close and whispers, “You okay?”
You nod, about to tell him to keep running, when you hear the first screech of the Demodogs.
“What was that?” Max inches towards your side, now long familiar with what the screeches mean.
As if almost in response to the girl, more screeches follow as they echo through the tunnels. Only this time, there’s more of them; more than you’d even want to imagine. The hair on your arms stands up as the screeching continues. You know that if you don’t run now, none of you will stand a chance.
“They’re coming.” Mike realizes. “Run! Run, let’s go!”
You snatch Dustin’s hand and practically throw the kid forward with how harshly you begin running. Lucas and Max run past, while Mike follows after Steve. Your footsteps fall harshly against the tunnel’s earthy ground and it takes everything within you to keep going. When you round the corner and see the rope, you almost sob with relief.
“Kids first!” You shout, damning whatever further damage it’ll do to your vocal chords.
Steve understands immediately and kneels beneath the rope to give the kids a boost up while you hold the rope taught and help lift them. Max is the first up, both you and Steve more so throwing her rather than helping her.
“C’mon!” Steve encourages her, and with one final shove from you, she makes it over the edge and is safe.
Everything happens so fast, it’s a blur as you help Lucas start to climb out, then Mike, and as you’re hauling Dustin up next, you hear the Demodogs drawing near.
“Oh, shit!” Steve hears them as soon as you do and he grabs for his bat and starts to place himself in front of you and Dustin, but you stop him.
“No!” You yank him back and then grab your brother, shoving him underneath the rope. The shadows of the Demodogs cast against the wall, you know you only have seconds before they’re here. “Throw him up!”
Dustin realizes what you’re about to do. “Y/N, no–”
But Steve already has a grip on him. “You’re going home.”
“No!” Dustin screams and tries to stay behind, wriggling and thrashing, but with Steve’s help, you’re able to lift him to safety before the first Demodog appears. Dustin, now safely above ground, sees this too. His heart stops. “Y/N!”
“Steve! Y/N! Climb up!” The kids begin to shout now, urging you and the teen to get out of the tunnels, fear alive in their voices.
You look up at them, see their faces alive with youth, and then turn to Steve. He seems to be thinking the same thing as you. You’ve both run out of time. He nods, you do as well, and together you’ve accepted your fate. Steve draws his bat as you raise your knives.
“Y/N!” Dustin’s voice rings through clearer than the other’s, the despair evident. You close your eyes for a second, wishing that there was more you could’ve done, but at least he’s safe.
Jonathan will take care of him, Nancy will, too.
He won’t be alone, and you have Steve with you, who is holding your hand as if it contains all the secrets of the world.
It’ll be okay.
You open your eyes.
The Demodogs, miraculously, start to run right past you and Steve. They weave between you two, not at all paying any attention. You stand as still as possible, not wanting to wake them from whatever trance they seem to be in.
However, one particularly large Demodog crashes against your leg and sends you into Steve’s side, who wraps his arms around you with a fierce protectiveness. You duck your head down, unaware just how desperately you’d been craving his presence, and he buries you further against him as the monsters continue to run.
The two of you cower, curling into one another, steadying the other, waiting for something to happen. Steve has his feet firmly planted and stands his ground as more monsters run past, and without him you would’ve fallen minutes ago, trampled by the creatures.
When you can’t hear any more Demodogs, you slowly lift your head from Steve’s chest and look around.
They’re gone. Each and every one of them has left.
You’re still in Steve’s arms, your chests are pressed tightly together and you’ve never been this close to him before. When you look up at him, you can feel his breath against your skin. There’s an odd look in his eyes, he’s studying your face as if seeing it for the first time, and his gaze makes something deep within you stir.
“Thank you,” you whisper, needing to say something. He’s once again saved your life, and your eyes can’t seem to leave his.
His fingers dig into your side, it’s the only way he can respond. The sensation causes you to shiver and your eyes slowly drift down to his lips. They’re a lovely shade of pink, flush and full. You wonder what they’d taste like, if he’s wondered the same about you.
Steve stares down at you and feels every breath you take, the rise and fall of your chest matching his. The two of you stand like this for a moment, hearts beating together as you cling to one another, until Dustin clears his throat.
“Ahem,” he draws your attention. “There are kids here, ya know.”
Lucas, Max, and Mike all snicker when you frantically pull away from Steve in embarrassment. Both of your faces are red, the air between you still hangs with something you’re not quite sure how to name.
“We’re coming.” Steve mumbles to your brother before turning to you. “Ready?”
You take a deep breath and nod, your nerves still shaky from being so close to him prior. When you’re ready, you grab onto the rope and feel Steve’s always gentle hands grip your waist. You’re slow climbing up, being the most injured out of everyone, but he’s patient with you and murmurs encouragement as you climb.
Once you’re safely up, you help the kids with Steve. The moment his feet touch solid land, he lets out a low whistle and claps his hands. “Well, I’d say that went well–”
Suddenly, Billy’s headlights begin to shine obnoxiously bright. The light increases in its intensity, glowing brighter and brighter, so much so that you and everyone else have to shield your eyes. Then, just as suddenly as it began, the lights shut off.
It’s quiet. No one says anything, unsure of what’s just happened, but you know.
“El,” you whisper, somehow knowing it’s her. Mike nods, understanding as well.
She did it.
She closed the gate.
You pull the kids into you, dragging them all in your arms in a giant hug. All you feel right now is disbelief. The plan worked. You’re all somehow still alive.
Steve stands behind you, his chest firm against your back, and you allow yourself to gently lean against him. To accept all that he’s silently providing you; there’s no point in fighting it any more. He’s here, offering you anything you need from him, and you’re exhausted from pretending that you don’t see it.
After a few moments of silence, you finally release the kids and nudge them towards the car.
It’s time to go home.
–
“So what exactly did you guys do with Billy?” Steve’s driving and you’re in the passenger seat, waves of exhaustion crashing upon you. From the rearview mirror, Steve sees Lucas, Dustin, and Mike all turn to Max slowly. He frowns. “Why are you all looking at her?”
Max shifts uncomfortably in her seat. “I handled it.”
“She sedated him and we left him on the floor at Will’s.” Dustin fills in the information that Max opted to omit, which she elbows him for.
Steve blinks, turns to you, and asks, “You heard that too, right?”
“Mhm.”
“Cool.”
When you get to Jonathan’s, Billy is sitting hunched over on the porch, waiting. He looks rough, his eyes bleary and his hair matted. When you see him, you feel your throat constrict in pain and a sense of panic builds within you. You look towards Steve, see his bruised cheek, then notice the way Max squirms in the backseat being near Billy, and the panic is replaced with anger.
He’s caused enough pain and turmoil to those you love.
Steve parks the car and turns in his seat so that he’s facing everyone. “Alright, we all see that Billy is awake, so you guys stay here while I go and–”
“We.” You correct, swallowing down the pain you feel.
Steve inhales and looks as if he wants to argue, but he just shakes his head and continues. “Okay, we go and talk to the guy.”
“I want to come.” Max says, though she still refuses to look in Billy’s direction.
You rest a hand on her leg. You understand what she’s asking for, to handle her brother herself, take her life into her own hands. Max is a brave kid, she’s shown you that much tonight, and while you trust her to make the right decision, you’re still hesitant. “Are you sure?”
She thinks for a second before nodding. Her eyes harden and she juts her jaw out. She’s made up her mind, and you get a kick out of seeing the fire within her. Max Mayfield is an incredible young girl, and you’re honored to know that she trusts you. “I’m sure.”
“Then let’s go.”
You, Steve, and Max walk side by side towards Billy, though you make sure to place the girl slightly behind you in case her brother tries anything.
When Billy notices you approach, he lifts his head up and waves lazily at the three of you. “Back already?” His words slur together and his eyes are glossy; the sedative must still be wearing off.
Max steps forward. “Take me home.”
Billy eyes her, looks between you and Steve, and then sighs. “Fine. Any other demands?”
The girl shakes her head. “I’ll wait in the car.”
And then she’s gone, leaving you and Steve alone with Billy.
He eyes you, sees the bruises on your neck, and a languid smile drawls across his face. “Seems I left a mark, sweetheart.”
Steve steps forward, but you put your hand out and stop him. You appreciate him, you do, but this is something you have to do yourself. You swallow again, feeling the tender flesh within your throat constrict, and try to make your words come out as neutral as possible. “Seems I did, too.”
Billy looks down at his shoulder, the wound from your knife is still bleeding. “So you did.”
Lucas and the other boys stand off to the side now, having left the car alone for Max. When Billy notices them staring, he sighs and wipes his hands off on his jeans and slowly gets up. “Well, my bitch of a sister awaits.”
As Billy leaves, Mike runs up the steps and unlocks the front door. “Y/N, think you could make those cookies again? I’m starving.”
You glare at him and Steve laughs. “I’m not sure she can even walk up the steps, dude.”
“Yeah, look at her.” Dustin waves his hands in front of you. “She looks like a zombie.”
Lucas makes zombie sounds and pretends to eat Dustin’s brains before Mike joins in. The three of them chase each other into the house, screaming “brains” and “die” as they mess around, leaving you and Steve alone outside.
He steps in front of you, his back towards you and he crouches down. “Care for a ride?”
You want to argue, but it’s becoming harder and harder to keep your eyes open. It’d be a miracle if you even manage up the first step on the porch. Hesitantly, you place your hands on Steve’s shoulders and jump onto his back.
“Atta girl,” he laughs, standing back up so that he can carry you inside and join the boys. You wrap your arms around his neck and nuzzle your face as you close your eyes. You’re seconds away from falling asleep. Steve seems to sense this and slows down his footsteps so as to not disturb you.
He navigates the home, remembering where to go from his time here last year. You’re warm against him and Steve’s fingers draw lazy circles onto your ankles. The boys are in the kitchen, scurrying around for any food, and Steve relishes in this small moment with you.
You’re placed down into a soft bed and the smell of Jonathan overwhelms you; you open your eyes and realize that Steve has taken you to the boy’s room. The bed is warm beneath you, the scent soothes your wounds.
“Jonathan’s?” You ask, confused as to why Steve would take you here.
“Figured it’s where you sleep when you’re here.” He shrugs, as if it’s no big deal, before grabbing the blankets and tucking you in. His movements are careful and he makes sure your head is resting on a pillow and that he takes off your shoes.
The gentleness of his touch soothes you. You’ve never let anyone take care of you like this before. You let him play with your hair, wrap the blanket around you so that you won’t get cold, and when he finally seems pleased with his work, he flicks your nose and smiles. “Get some sleep, dork.”
“Everyone is safe?”
His eyes melt. “They are. They’ll be home soon. In the meantime, I’ll rustle up some grub for those heathens outside while you sleep. Doctor’s orders.”
You giggle and grab his hand to bring to your lips. They linger against his knuckles, you inhale and breathe in his scent, and Steve’s breath hitches at the touch. “Thank you,” you whisper against his skin before placing another kiss.
There’s such a lovely buzz within your chest, holding Steve’s hand fills you with this syrupy warmth like honey, and you’ve never felt it before. It drips down your skin and into your bones, healing wounds both old and new with its kisses.
Steve squeezes your hand with his. He feels it, too. You both do.
–
A body slides in next to yours, rousing you from your sleep. A hand wraps around your waist and the fingers, long and lithe and familiar, skim your skin lazily. The sensation almost lulls you back to sleep, you know whose touch this is, whose body lays next to yours.
You open your arms and engulf Jonathan into a hug. His body lays atop of yours, reminiscent of the night a few days ago when he snuck into your room before he left with Nancy. Your body has long since come to anticipate his weight against yours, it’s become accustomed to how he lands upon you.
“What time is it?” You rasp, stroking Jonathan’s hair with your fingers as he breathes steadily against you. You’re not sure how long you’ve been asleep, but the pain in your throat has lessened, your voice is slowly returning to normal.
“Early morning,” he mumbles, pressing a kiss against your shoulder. “Steve took Dustin home, no one wanted to wake you. Apparently you had a rough night.”
You laugh, then wince at the pain it draws from your throat and ribs. “You could say that.”
Jonathan places another kiss upon your skin, this time against the base of your throat. He litters kisses up and down your neck, his breath tickling as he does so. “I’m sorry,” he says in between each kiss, as if his words will make the bruises fade faster.
Rather than respond, knowing nothing you can say will make him believe that none of this is Jonathan’s fault, you simply hum at his kisses and lean into them. “Will?”
“He’s okay, he’s safe. Mom is with him now.”
You hum again, relishing in the knowledge that Will is okay and that Jonathan is once again here with you. The house is quiet, everyone else asleep, and the two of you lay like this for a while. No more words are said, Jonathan presses kisses against your skin as your fingers interlock through his hair and you run your hand up and down his back.
Somehow, you know this will be the last time you ever have him like this.
Just the two of you, uncrossed in any boundaries. Skin against skin, kisses to wounds and fingers intertwined. You hope that your body never forgets the weight of his. You hope that it will always anticipate his impact, welcoming it after a long day. Jonathan’s touch will soon become ghosts lingering on your skin, and selfishly you never want this moment to end.
Uncrossed boundaries, threads and strings and lines.
They’re here. You can see them now, they almost glow faintly within Jonathan’s room, the same room in which you grew up in.
“Bee?” You whisper, nudging him gently to get his attention. He lifts his head from your neck and looks at you, eyes open and listening. “We have to talk about it.”
The early morning light streams through the curtain and illuminates Jonathan’s face. His eyes are a mixture of browns and reds and ambers and you try to remember what they look like now, before the words are said and nothing will ever be the same again.
“I’m scared,” he admits. You’ve made him into who he is today, with all of his quirks and humor and love. Jonathan doesn’t know who he would be without you, and he’s terrified that he’ll say the wrong thing and lose you forever.
“I know,” you stroke his cheek. “I am, too.”
“I don’t want to–I can’t lose you.”
“You’ll never lose me, Jonathan Byers.” You’re firm in your words, now grasping at his face with your hands. “We’re connected, remember? String theory, you and me.”
Jonathan has tears in his eyes. “But I slept with Nancy.”
His confession only makes you sigh. “I know, bee.”
“I–I think… I think this time it’ll turn into something more. I… I think I love her, bug.” His voice cracks, terrified of his own words. He recognizes now, far too late, all that he’s missed. “But bug… I know there’s–that there’s some things we should’ve talked about. A long time ago… but I just…”
“I know,” you know everything he’s trying to tell you. There’s no hurt in your voice, only resignation, but you knew this would happen eventually. “We missed our chance a while ago.”
“Did we ever really have a chance?” He asks, thinking back to the day the two of you met. How easily you accepted him into your life, the role you unknowingly assigned to him as your best friend. How, for years, he’d been so in love with you but terrified it’d scare you away.
You play with his fingers, thinking for a moment. “I’d like to think that we did. I think we just… We missed each other, along the way.”
He smiles, bittersweet and somber. “We would’ve been something great, huh?”
“You’re my person,” you tell him, a certain sadness creeping into your voice. It’s the truth. No one will ever know you like he does, no one can unravel you the way he can. The love you have for Jonathan is unyielding, it transcends everything else you’ve ever felt. “Of course we would’ve been something great.”
“And now?”
You bite your lip, unsure. “Now we just… We let go.”
Jonathan tightens his arms and presses himself further against you. “I’m never letting you go, Y/N Henderson.”
You feel tears beginning to form in your eyes, both from grief and acceptance. “You don’t have to, but we have to let go of our claim to one another. You’re Nancy’s, now. It wouldn't be fair otherwise. To anyone.”
“And you’re Steve’s?” He asks, hesitant to bring the boy up. While you watched Jonathan fall in love with Nancy, he’s watched you fall for Steve.
“I think I could really love him,” you admit, breathless. “I think I’ve already started to fall for him.”
Jonathan’s heart twists at the breathlessness in your voice, though he knows he’ll have to get used to this. To no longer being the reason for your bashfulness. It’ll take time, but he knows in the end that it’s for the better. “You deserve to go for it, bug.”
“Really?”
“Of course,” he playfully pokes your side. “Nancy fucked up with him, and I fucked up with you. The two of you deserve better than us, and I… I want you to be happy, you know that.”
“I know, but…” you turn to him now, needing him to understand all that you still don’t know how to voice yourself. “Remember our pinky promise from last year?”
Jonathan wiggles his pinky at you, unsure where you’re going with this. “I do.”
“We’ll always stay like this, right? You and me?” You know it’s selfish to ask, to expect everything to stay the same between you, but losing Jonathan would be the one thing you’d never recover from. He’s in your bones, now. He’s grown up alongside you, patched up your wounds as a child and now holds your hands through the nightmares you face together.
It doesn’t matter how you and Jonathan end, whether you’re lovers in this universe or simply the best of friends. Regardless of what’s happened, he’s the most important person in your life. He always will be.
Jonathan presses a kiss upon your forehead, his lips warm. “Always, and I’ll always love you the most, bug.”
“I’ll always love you the most, bee.” The words come easily to you, an exhale after being inhaled so long ago.
The world stills. Then, as slow as the sun rises after a harsh winter’s night, the strings and lines finally settle between you two.
“Let’s go to bed.” Jonathan whispers, wanting to hold onto you for at least a few more hours.
In the late morning hours the two of you will wake up, and it will be the last time you do so in each other’s arms.
–
When Jonathan drops you off at home the next day, your mom freaks when she sees you. Dustin had tried to prepare her, making up some lie about how you’d fallen down at the Byers’ house and that’s why you couldn’t come home for a few days. However, your mom still had a heart attack when you walked through the front door with a split head, black eye, bruised neck, and a bloodied side.
“My baby!” She took you into her arms and immediately set her eyes on Jonathan. “What, did you have a bear in the house or something?”
Jonathan looked over at Dustin with a helpless look on his face and your brother had sighed. He figured he’d have to be the one to take over. “Like I said, mom. Y/N just got really into our campaign and fell. She’s fine, I mean, look at her!”
You did your best to appear very fine and healthy, despite your concussion forming a horrendous headache. You forced a smile on your face, all teeth. “All fine and dandy, mom.”
Claudia Henderson hadn’t bought it.
You were placed under house arrest for two weeks.
During these two weeks, you were only allowed to leave the house to either go to work (somehow Mrs. Waters still hasn’t fired you despite missing three days of work), and go to school. It wasn’t so bad, though. You had needed the rest, and Nancy visited you a few days into your house arrest.
You’re not sure when she officially began her relationship with Jonathan, but the first time she came to see you, she had brought a giant basket full of baked goods and comics she had asked Jonathan about.
“You didn’t have to get me anything, Nance.” You had informed the girl when you saw her struggling to carry the basket.
“I stole your boyfriend, it’s the least I could do.” You stared at her, eyes so wide that your black eye almost fully opened, and Nancy had let out a loud laugh. You’d never heard her laugh so openly before, and it was a beautiful sight. “It was a joke, Y/N. It’s okay to laugh.”
“Ha, ha, Wheeler.” You took the basket from her and inspected its contents. There were more comics than you could count and the muffins smelled delicious. “This is a good haul.”
Nancy had smiled, relieved that she’d done something right. She had bugged Jonathan all day yesterday, anxious to do something nice for you because she felt this crippling need to make you like her. He had reassured her a million times that you did already like her, but Nancy has never been the best at making friends, and she knows the history between you and her is tense.
“You really like it?”
“I love it, dude.” You saw the way Nancy’s body relaxed, as if she had been terrified you’d burn the basket in front of her face. It’s only then that you realized why she was there. “You and Jonathan finally seal the deal?”
Nancy blushed, still unused to how well you perceive others. “We did.”
“Took you guys long enough!” You squealed and threw your arms around her, elated for your friends. Sure, it still stung a bit, but Nancy was trying, so you were too. “But can I say just one thing, and then we’ll bury the hatchet for good?”
“Of course, Y/N.” Nancy said, though you felt her body tense underneath your hold. She had been bracing for impact, and it broke your heart to imagine how she was feeling in that moment.
You grabbed her hand and looked her in the eye. “I’m happy for you two, I really am, okay? You know my history with Jonathan, and I’m sure he’s told you everything, but I need you to listen very carefully to what I’m about to say.”
“I’m listening,” she whispered, gripping your hand tightly.
“If anything, and I mean anything, bothers you about my relationship with him, I need you to tell me. Don’t let anything simmer, don’t swallow down any hurt. I need you to know that I will always respect your guys’ relationship, and if you ever feel that I don’t, please tell me.”
Nancy, to your surprise, had laughed. “That’s it? Geesh, Y/N. I was expecting you to threaten me with your knives or something. I understand your connection with Jonathan, I know what I agreed to.” She paused, and then added with a sly smirk, “Besides, I know you wouldn’t cross any boundaries because you’ve spent practically all year pining after Steve.”
“I did not!” You gaped at her, shocked that she would say such a thing, and Nancy laughed so hard that it took both you and her another ten minutes to say anything else. It was lovely, laughing alongside the girl you once held so much resentment over. Now there you were, rib cage aching with glee.
And that’s how Nancy Wheeler became your best friend.
After that, things seemed to settle down during the month that followed the events of Hawkin’s Lab.
While you healed your wounds at home, Jonathan and Nancy came to visit you whenever they could. It was weird, at first, being in the same room as them now that they were together, but within minutes the three of you formed your own dynamic. You and Nancy teased Jonathan while he simply shook his head at the two of you and did whatever you asked.
It was a good dynamic, really.
A week into house arrest, your mom let you finally return to work.
Of course, on your first day back, Steve was standing inside of Bookstrordinary, waiting for you.
Seeing him there, hair messy and smile warm, felt like coming home.
“Back so soon?” You had teased, walking slowly up to him.
His smile widened and he grabbed your hand and tugged you closer, impatient with how long it was taking you to come to him. “Like I could wait any longer.”
“I stack and you sort?”
“Let’s get to work, Henderson.” He winked and spun you around, causing you to giggle, a sound he’d come to adore, and the two of you set off to work.
Steve becomes a regular at Bookstrorindary again, and one day you come home from school to find him sitting at your kitchen table with Dustin and your mom. They were eating an after school snack together, chatting as if they were old friends. Your mom was even blushing as Steve charmed her. It was a disorienting sight, to say the least.
“Is this going to be a thing now?” You’d asked, setting your backpack down to grab your own snack and join.
“I invited him.” Dustin said with a mouth full of apples. “He’s cool, and mom likes him, so. Yeah.”
Your mom pinched Steve’s cheek and giggled. “He’s just so charming!”
Steve sent you a wink, basking in your mother’s praise, and in that moment, seeing him with the two people you loved most in this world, you knew.
It hit you like a warm, soft summer breeze. It swirled around you, kissed your skin the way only the sun can do, and you could almost smell the fresh summer honey that your dad used to buy for your birthday. The feeling was serene, it felt as easy as exhaling.
You were in love with Steve Harrington.
Only this time, the realization made you smile; you accepted it with open arms. You walked over to him and ruffled his hair before sitting next to him at the table. Biting your own apple, you winked at your mom, agreeing with what she had said. “He is indeed very charming.”
Dustin gagged while Steve draped an arm across your chair and stole your apple. “That I am, Y/N.”
Maybe love wasn’t so bad after all.
The following week, both Steve and Nancy asked you to attend Barb’s funeral, and of course you went.
It was a small service, and Jonathan held Nancy’s hand throughout all of it. While it hurt to see her cry, you can’t help but think about how incredible Nancy is. She’s the reason that Barb is even getting a funeral in the first place, having brilliantly exposed Hawkin’s Lab and giving her friend the justice she deserves.
Steve stood next to you, stoic and guilty, and after the service ended you had to pull him aside and remind him that none of it had been his fault. He listened, but you know he hadn’t necessarily heard you.
It’s similar to how you feel with Will, and how Jonathan feels with you, and Nancy with Barb.
You all hold a heavy weight within you, of guilt and shame and despair. There’s nothing that specifically can be done to lessen it. All you can do is allow the ones you love to carry the weight with you, to share it and accept the help that they offer.
Time can’t heal all wounds, you recognize this now, so you do things for those you love and see the good that’s still there, even if it’s hard sometimes.
And that’s what you do.
You start stopping by Hopper’s cabin to see El.
He hated it at first, but when you showed up one day with a box of nail polish and comics, El had been so overjoyed that he simply sighed and let you in.
You teach the girl how to read, having her say words out loud as you paint her nails, and it’s lovely. It’s rare to get the girl all to yourself, so spending time with her is always the favorite part of your day. Plus, she starts to get really into Spider-Man, so you’ve done your job as an avid fan.
As for Will and the boys, you start to make it a point to partake in their DnD campaigns whenever possible. While it’s hard balancing work, school, El, and the party, you don’t regret it for a single second. It’s exhausting, but a good kind of exhaustion. One that leaves your bones aching in a rewarding way at the end of the day.
You’ll never tell Jonathan this, but he had been right a few months ago. You’d been burning yourself out, running away from everything you didn’t want to confront, from your feelings to your crippling worry for the kids. You’re not sure how much you had left in you, looking back now.
You had been drowning for a long, long time.
But as you pick up Dustin and Will from Mike’s, Jonathan by your side as always, your nails painted a messy shade of blue thanks to El, and Steve waiting for you back at your house, you’re finally able to breathe.
–
It somehow takes you the entire day to get Dustin ready for the Snowball.
He’s running around the house, frantically trying to find his bowtie that he’s misplaced, and you’re currently digging through the endless supply of hairspray that Steve dropped off yesterday. There’s so much hair products within the bag that he delivered, and it actually scares you a little.
No way this much chemicals can be good for a kid.
“Did you find the bowtie?” You yell from the bathroom, finally managing to open the bottle of hairspray that Steve specifically told you to use first.
“Yes!” Dustin runs back into the bathroom and throws the piece of fabric at you. “Quick, put it on while I spray my hair!”
You roll your eyes at him but do as he asks, securing his bowtie to his baby blue button shirt. However, as he sprays his hair, he almost blinds you in the process. “Christ, Dustin! That’s practically a weapon.”
He continues to spray. “You’re the one who insisted on helping me get ready.”
“I wanted you to look handsome,” you coo at him, straightening his bowtie one final time before stepping back and admiring your handiwork. “All done, and look at you!”
Dustin sprays even more product into his hair and tries to shove you out of the bathroom, but he secretly preens. “Am I really handsome?”
You admire him and you can’t believe how grown up he is now. He’s grown another three inches since last month and with the way he’s styled his hair, he looks like a teenager. Your heart stings a bit, seeing him no longer look like the little brother you know and love. He’s changing, growing up. “The handsomest.”
He smiles at you. “Thanks, Y/N. Now go get dressed while I finish my hair. Steve will be here any minute!”
You salute him and run to your room. Nancy had asked you to chaperon alongside her at the dance, and you figured it’d be fun watching Dustin and the party failing miserably with prepubescent girls, so you agreed. However, because it somehow took five hours helping your brother get ready, you run around your room in a hurry.
You’ve just finished applying some mascara when the doorbell rings, and your heart skips a beat.
“Y/N, Steve is here!” Your mother calls, a slight glee in her voice. She’s quickly come to adore the boy, something that Steve milks whenever he can. He’s incredibly proud of it, honestly.
You run to the door and open it, Dustin is still spraying his hair to death in the bathroom.
When Steve sees you, he forgets how to speak. You’re dressed in a soft white dress and you’ve pinned the front two pieces of your hair back. You’ve dotted your lips with a berry-red lipstick and your cheeks look more flushed than usual.
You see the blush that immediately forms on Steve’s cheeks and you giggle, suddenly shy. It’s awkward, but a nice awkward between you two. “Hey.”
“H–hi.” His voice squeaks and he clears his throat. “I–I mean, hey. You, uh… You look. Wow. I mean, not wow, but also wow–”
“Dude,” Dustin now joins and looks disappointedly at Steve. “Get it together, man.”
He pats his chest and starts heading towards the car, and you can’t help but snort. “He’s so lovely, isn’t he?”
Steve holds out his arm for you to take, the momentary awkwardness now gone. “The Henderson charm is a fascinating thing.”
During the car ride, the closer Steve gets to the school, the more you see Dustin fidget in the back seat. He had been so excited earlier, but now you notice the doubt in his eyes and the way he keeps patting his hair, unsure.
You tap Steve’s hand to get his attention. When he looks over, you motion towards the backseat and he realizes what you’re trying to tell him. He nods, and the two of you silently agree to give the kid a pep talk once you get to the school.
“Alright, buddy. Here we are.” Steve parks the car and tries to give Dustin a reassuring smile, but your brother looks out the window and exhales nervously. “Remember, once you get in there…”
“Pretend like I don’t care.”
You interrupt. “Okay, no. I thought we abandoned that idea last month.”
“Technically you abandoned it, I didn’t.” Dustin responds, and Steve shrugs his shoulders at you.
“Dustin, I really want you to be yourself, okay?” You turn to face the kid. “What did I tell you last month, huh?”
“That we Hendersons are charming people.” He grumbles.
“Exactly, and I meant that. Use your charm, buddy.”
Dustin isn’t listening, instead he tries to look at himself in the rearview mirror to once again fix his hair. Steve sees this and stops him. “Hey, listen to your sister, alright? You look great, okay?”
“Such a handsome lad.”
Steve puts his hand up to stop you. “Okay, ignore her and listen to me. Now, you’re gonna go in there…”
Dustin nods. “Yeah.”
“Look like a million bucks.”
“Yeah!”
“And you’re gonna slay ‘em dead.”
“Like a lion.”
You cringe. “I’m not at all liking this language use in relation to women.”
Dustin purrs, just to spite you, but now Steve cringes and shakes his head, “Yeah, don’t do that, okay?”
“Okay.” Dustin deflates, but when Steve offers him his hand to shake, his face lights back up and he accepts it.
Steve winks at the kid. “Good luck.”
“You got this!” You shout as Dustin exits the car. He gives you a thumbs up and starts to walk towards the school, leaving just you and Steve alone in the car.
With Dustin gone, a tension creeps within the car. You look over at Steve and he catches your eye, and your stomach flutters. You can’t deny that there’s nothing there, and it’s… it’s nice, honestly.
You don’t feel the same fear you did with Jonathan. You can look at Steve and admire his beauty and all you feel is warmth. His smile doesn’t hurt you, and the way he’s looking at you so unabashedly no longer scares you.
“You look beautiful, Y/N.” Steve says, his voice honest and dripping with honey.
You blush, and he wants to kiss the pretty red until it colors his own lips as well. “Thank you.”
There’s more you both want to say, but for now you simply enjoy each other’s presence. It’s too soon, you know this. He’s still in love with Nancy, and you don’t blame him. Instead, you bask in his gaze and he admires how lovely you are. How lovely you always are.
He feels it, too. He knows what you’re thinking, and for once he feels comfortable with where he is. You’re here, next to him, expecting nothing but what you know he’s ready to give you.
You press a kiss to his cheek, and Steve’s heart aches. “Drive home safe, okay?”
As you pull away, he catches your arm and stops you. You look up, confused, and Steve’s gaze softens. He doesn’t know how else to say it, how else to ask you to stay. “Be patient with me, okay?”
You don’t have to ask what he means; you know.
Whatever he needs, you’ll give it to him. You place a hand on his face and stroke his cheek, he leans against the touch and closes his eyes. This is the easiest promise you’ve ever made. “Take all the time you need, I’ll be here.”
The words cause Steve to sigh, you’re too good for him. You’re everything lovely and beautiful and kind, and Steve can’t believe how lucky he is to know you, to have you in his life the way no one else does. That you’ll wait for him, trusting him with your heart, and he can’t believe that you’re real.
“You’re an angel.” He breathes out, feeling everything constrict within his chest when you smile.
“And you’re sweet honey.” You press one last kiss to Steve’s face and get out of the car. No other words are needed.
Steve watches you as you leave, your kiss still burning his face, the same burning warmth he’s come to love about you. He watches as you walk up to Nancy inside the school and she hands you a drink, the two of you laughing. You both look so different standing side by side.
A girl Steve loves and the girl he knows that in time he’ll come to love more than anything else.
He’s already falling for you, he thinks he has been ever since he first saw you all those years ago when you were twelve and he was thirteen. He’s falling for you, but he won’t rush it. It wouldn’t be fair to you, not after everything you’ve been through.
So Steve admires you, he watches the way your hair dances as you laugh and the way the kids around you smile in admiration. He forgets that Nancy is even there, his eyes only on you, and for the first time in a long time, Steve smiles a real smile.
Your kiss on his cheek lingers, and he presses his fingers to it and feels his body warm. You’ll be waiting for him, and that’s more than enough for now.
Take your time, I’ll be here.
And Steve believes you.
[END OF SEASON 2]
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Okay so... I was doing a md rewatch before ep 7, and I noticed something in ep 4 that I NEVER noticed before.
In the scene where V covers up Uzi, when she sits down, I always thought she was frowning. Cuz like in ep 3 she's starting to realize that worker drones don't actually care about death anymore or smth like that.
BUT NO
SHE'S ACTUALLY SMILING IN THE SECOND IMAGE IM GONNA BE SICK
And after noticing that I started thinking back on her behavior with Uzi and realized how much she actually cares about her.
Look at her smile. She's starting to care about the workers smmmm Im crying
Okay now for Vuzi. In ep 4 V initially saw her as just a "purple thing", later on as Cyn. But probably N saying "what did I say about antagonizing her?" got her thinking. What if she was really antagonizing her? That's why she covered her with the teacher, and that's why she smiled.
Now, episode 5 doesn't have much about them. We know that V remembers stuff from her time as a worker, so we know that she got once possessed by Cyn. She would be the only drone ever to understand what Uzi is going through. (another reason why she protected her in ep 4).
This reflects in ep 6. When Alice cuts Uzi's finger she can be seen flinching.
Idk about you, but it's kinda strange for V, the most insane out of the trio, to flinch when someone's finger got cut off.
This further proves just how much V started to care about Uzi. Same when Alice and Beau died and she was trying to escape the Sentinels. She immediately rushed to save Uzi, even if she just witnessed her getting fully possessed for 5 good seconds by Cyn
She didn't have to save her. She could've ran away, leaving Uzi to be killed by the next sentinel that passed by. But she didn't. She brought her back to N and Tessa, holding her tightly
And of course.
When they saw the Doll trap.
V immediately went to protect Uzi, getting extremely worried too when she was about to use her solver
This shows just how V started to like Uzi. She initially saw her as a thread, another Cyn, a thing and a monster. But after the sky therapy she probably saw herself in Uzi. Someone who's always been alone, someone who the solver can control however it wants. A poor possessed worked, confused and scared.
Moving to her sacrifice. The very first time V called Uzi by name instead of dumb nicknames. Immediately before she was smiling after N said that they still needed her. But she didn't believe him fully. They could do well without her, she probably thought. She had done nothing but cause troubles with Uzi. She wanted to make it right
Giving her full trust to Uzi, giving her life to Uzi. She was literally half possessed by Cyn but V still decided to trust her. And then she smiled at her.
That smile, immediately after the "I trust you" meant a lot coming from V. That smile was to assure Uzi that she doesn't see her as an enemy anymore.
Okay rant is over because I'm tearing up.
I love Vuzi so much I love tragic yuri 😭
#murder drones#murder drones uzi#uzi doorman#murder drones v#serial designation v#vuzi#v x uzi#violetviolence#murder drones analysis#murder drones angst#tragic yuri
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