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the-darklings · 2 years

Text

──𝐭𝐨𝐝𝐚𝐲 𝐢 𝐛𝐮𝐫𝐲 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐢𝐧 𝐦𝐞 [𝐗𝐈.]

summary: "We begin... with a spin."

pairing: dream of the endless x f!reader

wc: 16.2k+

warnings: gonna break your heart one last time, Dream is still Dream (reluctantly affectionate)

notes: all good things come to an end : )

ᴺᴼᵂ ᴾᴸᴬᵞᴵᴺᴳ: Rule the World (Odyssey Version) by Take That

1:32 ───|────── 4:55

part one | series masterlist | ao3 |

PART ELEVEN: BEYOND.

“Who are you?”

“I am Destiny of the Endless.”

“And who am I?”

“You are the one who wanders. You will do so until the universe ceases.”

“Why?”

“Because you have been cursed to do so. Because you chose no shackles, no roots. You wished, instead, to roam free. And now you shall.”

“Why?”

“Because all is as it is meant to be, Wanderer.”

“Why?”

“Because you wished to break your destiny. And so you did.”

“I knew a lad called Jack Constantine once.”

Book in hand, you step around Hob, licking the dryness from your lips. Copper lingers on your tongue. “Same family.”

He perks up at your subdued comment, arms unfolding from where they rested over his chest.

“Nah, really?” He mulls it over for a moment. “Wait, that actually makes a lot of sense. He was a bit of a twat.”

Johanna sniffs. “Piss off.”

Late evening sun streams through the blinds, bathing the dark wood office in syrupy, golden-brown light. Books and notes lay scattered everywhere you look, each inch utilised fully. Johanna leans her hands on the table, squinting at the grimoire laid open. She’s been chewing on her lip for the last five minutes. That doesn’t bode well.

“No can do,” Hob replies, hitching his shoulders with a proud smile. “I’m here on strict business.”

Dropping the grimoire Johanna requested on the table, you shoot them both a look, “Are you two done?” Your attention swivels towards the necromancer despite your trembling hands, finding her delicate features pinched. “Can you find Jed Walker?”

She huffs, her brows folding inwards. “You’re asking me to find a needle in a haystack of seven billion, give or take. I’m not a bloody witch. I don’t just cook up locator spells. I deal with demons and the dead.”

Bracing your hand on the table to mirror her, you soften your voice, “I understand what I’m asking for.”

“I’ll need time to figure this out,” she admits tightly.

Private displeasure colours Johanna’s voice, and you nod in defeat. It’s hard to admit any shortcoming, much less one rooted in one’s power. While Johanna may be more powerful than most mortals can comprehend, it’s not power without gaps. She’s still so young. But, as with all Constantines you’ve known, there now sparks that fiery, stubborn drive, seemingly blazing from within. This is a challenge and one she’s set to overcome.

“What about the other?” she poses abruptly, turning several pages in the grimoire. Her index finger trails over the yellowed pages, glued to another spell. “Do you have anything of theirs? You said this one has magical protection?”

“It’s conjecture,” you clarify. “But he’s been able to skirt me for over a century, so I’m left with one conclusion.”

Hob whistles under his breath. “A century? Bloody hell, you must be eager to find him.”

Memories flutter to life, birds caught in flight. A tall man with blonde hair, a dangerous smirk, and your blurred reflection dancing across his shaded glasses. Nothing more than a twisted memory that’s all fangs and blood. To file this want under ‘eager’ would be insulting. This specific longing comes with both elation and dread. Horror at what you might discover. This ignorance is no more than a flimsy illusion. You’ve spent the last century following Corinthian’s every crime, experiencing it as if he executed them on you instead.

“I can’t promise this will work,” Johanna continues, oblivious to your internal struggle. Your attention snags on Hob, who is watching you with deep creases denting his forehead. There’s old, shrewd awareness in how he examines your rumpled appearance. “At best, I might be able to cloak you. Again, locator spells are not my speciality. At all.”

You clear your mind, pushing away from the wooden fixture. “ What if I gave up an object? It’s old, full of history. Would I be able to form a tether?

You’ve seen such spells performed—you know they’re possible and incredibly advantageous when done right.

Johanna glares down at the grimoire for a beat, silent. Her chin lifts suddenly, her narrow-eyed stare harsh and biting. There’s digging intensity to how she inspects your appearance from head to toe, and you bristle at the probing check.

“You look like shit,” she says bluntly. “I don’t think you should be doing any tethering to anything.”

Your teeth gnash. “Can it be done, Constantine?”

Tension barbs through the room. Hob sighs, making you even more defensive because you can instinctively tell it’s about to become two against one. “We’re not daft, you know,” he says quietly. “It’s clear you’re unwell.”

Your eyes flutter shut. Forcing your jaw to relax, you mull over the most palatable way you can deliver this information to them. It’s clear from their wonderfully human determination that they’re not going to let this drop until they have more context.

“Fine.” Filling your lungs with oxygen, you hold your breath, gathering yourself. How difficult it is to draw oxygen should probably concern you. “Remember how I told you I’ve been experimenting? Well, I’ve exercised a degree of control over the curse. The travelling part, at least. I can force it to take me places I want, but it… costs me. Physically.”

Johanna folds her arms over her chest, humming in consideration. “Cost, eh? How steep?”

These damn Constantines.

The setting sun warms your cool cheek, and some invisible restraint in you loosens your invisible cast dropping. “Internal injuries. Bleeding, tissue tears, organ failure, haemorrhaging. It heals, but slowly. Excruciatingly so. If I abuse controlled travel too often, I can pass out. Slip into a temporary coma until internal damage heals. Vomiting, mobility issues, dizziness, hallucinations—take your pick.”

You’re avoiding direct eye contact, but utter silence encompasses the office when your words sink in.

Hob gathers himself first. “Jesus Christ.”

Shrugging, you say, “It’s fine. I’m getting better at controlling it.”

“Which part of that is fine?” Hob’s voice is barbed with horror. “None of that is fine.”

You wish neither of them were looking at you like this. Rattled, aghast, alight with shades of sadness. It's so much easier to handle this when no one is standing there reminding you of the ugly aspects of this curse.

“Can it be done?” you bite out.

Johanna wipes emotion from her face, stretching out her hand, palm up. “Show me this item.”

Without a preamble, you hand her the roughened wooden figurine. Your stomach roils at the sight. Desperately your fingers clench and unclench in the folds of your coat, blunt nails biting into your palms. The urge to snatch back the figurine is bone-breaking.

Johanna rolls the item in her hand, scanning it with eyes that see far beyond its material form. She’s digging deeper into what history—power—the object contains. “It might work,” she muses pensively. “I’ll cloak you, but the spell will have a time limit. The further away you are from me, the shorter the timer will be. Whoever it is won’t see you coming, but I can’t promise you the exact location.”

The grim determination bubbling in your gut answers: “Just get me as close as you can.”

Swirls of colours and shapes; loud, jarring noises, spinning, spinning, nails raking through the skin—

“Make it stop, make it stop—”

It doesn’t stop. There’s only colour—sound—sound—breaking—madness. And it doesn’t stop for a very long time.

A thousand reflections stare back at you.

“Coward.”

“Traitor.”

“Murderer.”

“I’m not,” you gasp. “I’m not.”

Do it, do it, do it—

A rat scurries past your arm, disappearing into the hoary mist, and you flinch.

No matter how loudly you plead for forgiveness, for relief, there’s only endless despair and glass cutting into your palms.

Flower fields. Sunshine. Peace.

A tall, pale, looming man with twin stars for eyes stands over you.

“What does the Lord of Dreams dream about?”

No reply.

But for the first time since you’ve woken up as you: hope.

A beautiful dream.

“Who did you say you were again?”

Mighty, leathery wings block out whatever light there once was, the newcomer’s pale hair shining like a halo around their fair face.

“I am an angel, here to save you,” a benign, soothing voice coos, followed by fingers tracing over your bloodied jawline. “If only you help me.”

“By doing what?” you slur, blood and sweat trickling down your split brow. “By spying on the Endless? On Dream?”

“Do not fear. I alone can protect you. Your purpose is to merely… observe.”

Demons hiss and growl around you, and you flex your newly healed jaw. They broke it four times in succession. So much for talking back. Scorched dirt beneath your feet stains with your congealing blood, and you chuckle. The croaking sound grows in volume until your throat bleeds.

It’s answer enough.

Your bones quiver under the sheer power of Morningstar’s displeasure. “Take this one away. Make sure there’s nothing left.”

The demons make good on that order.

Johanna pierces the world map with a letter opener, every inch cutting in with deliberate slowness. Candles flicker, settling after the spell, and you taste the magick at the back of your throat.

“Georgia, U-S of A,” the necromancer announces, loosening a breath.

“Great,” Hob chirps, his arm brushing against yours. “That’s just brilliant. It’s across the bloody ocean, that is.”

Johnna shoots him a venomous look. “Oh, sorry. Were you hoping for a nice trip down Brighton?”

Hob stares at her blankly in the shadowed office. He turns your way slowly as if mutely asking do you believe her?

You do. You’ve dealt with enough Constantines in your lifetime to ensure their sarcastic, surly nature is no longer a shock.

“You’re a highly unpleasant woman,” Hob concludes, though no real malice lingers in his tone or bearing.

“Thank you, Constantine,” you cut in before they can break into another bickering session. “There’s one more thing.”

The brunette rolls her eyes. “Is there now?”

“Magdalene’s Grimoire,” you begin deliberately. Johanna freezes. “I want you to locate it and retrieve it for me.”

Your companions speak simultaneously:

“Why?”

“You believe it has something to do with your curse, don’t you?”

Ignoring Hob’s incredulous outcry, you nod towards Johanna. Pain twinges suddenly in your core, and your breaths slow until you get a grip on yourself. But it’s slow. Numbing pain laps at your senses for a debilitating minute until it clears once more. The curse wants to drag you in a thousand directions, but you don’t permit it.

You right yourself again, swallowing over your dry tongue. Your temples throb insistently.

“I think it’s old—older than people assume and has spells that no mortal should have access to.” You lean towards the map, examining the range letter opener has offered. You’ve been to Georgia several times previously, but long ago. “Roderick Burgess might have gotten lucky, but the mere fact there’s a spell there that can help capture an Endless… I find that curious. Unlike what your records indicate, he was not the first Magus, but he was the last. This means the grimoire has to be with his family—likely his son—or someone relating to them. I’ll pay you.”

Somehow.

“Are you joking?” Johanna scoffs immediately. “One of the most powerful grimoires known to humanity? I’ll find it for free. Imagine what I could learn from it.”

Your stare glides to her unhurriedly, fixing on her fair complexion. She visibly falters at whatever she spies in your cool regard. “Within reason… and for the good of humanity. Scout's honour.”

Hob squints at her. “You’re not even American.”

“Shut… up,” she mutters, shooting him another nasty look.

You tug your coat free when it catches on a chair, slotting your hands in your pockets. “Thank you, both of you. Is the spell active?”

“Yes, but it won’t hold long at this distance,” Johanna warns.

Your attention latches on the wooden figurine on her desk. It’s wrong—it feels so wrong to have it out of your grasp, to feel nothing more than Dream’s pebble warming your hand. You try not to think about him now or your last conversation together. Instead, you focus on the thread woven around your heart, tugging you away and over the ocean.

“I won’t be back for at least two weeks, but see what you can discover in that time,” you tell them.

Hob balances on his heels, presenting Johanna with a charming grin. “Well, I guess I ought to help you.”

The sorceress scowls. “I don’t need your help.”

“Everyone needs help,” Hob counters.

Levelling them with a fond look, you wordlessly head towards the door while they verbally spar. Your hand briefly braces your chest, feeling the unsteady thud beneath your palm. You’ve been jumping too often, too far, and too rapidly for your body to recover. But just a bit more. Then you can rest.

You’re almost at the end of a darkened hallway before an urgent voice sounds behind you, accompanied by brisk strides in your direction.

“Wait, wait…”

You’re not even slightly surprised to hear Hob behind you or feel his fingers wrap around your bicep. Street light filtering through the window paints over his taut features, creating a pronounced tale of two sides. Light and dark. Young and older than anyone can comprehend. Quite fitting for both of you.

“Take me with you,” Hob says, imploring edge laced beneath his lighthearted manner. It pinches your heart. “You know what they say: two immortals are better than one, eh?”

If things were less dangerous, less volatile, if it were anyone but Corinthian, you would take him up on his offer. You would love nothing more—two immortals going on an adventure. Hob has known the same horrors, similar hardships, countless failures and highs. Together you’re as effortless as breathing, as familiar as old friends meeting after years apart. You’ve felt that kinship with him from the first moment you locked eyes in that overcrowded pub, sitting there soaked and miserable.

But this is the Corinthian. Even if Hob is the one human with nothing to fear from the nightmare, this goes much deeper. Soul deep. Perhaps deeper still. This conflict is between you, Corinthian, and Dream. It’s always been a tale of three parts, interwoven into a single, unbreakable thread.

“Hob Gadling, you are a gem,” you say softly, placing your hand on his warm cheek. An unsure smile forms across his mouth. “And maybe one day I will. But this… this is something I must do alone.”

“You don’t, though. You realise that, right?” Hob argues softly, fiercely. “There are people who care about you.”

You think about the Dreaming and its occupants, all the mortals and other beings you’ve encountered in your many travels. Friends and companions who have told you to visit, stay, there is always a place for you here even when they knew you could do no such thing without putting them at risk. You think about the Endless—your becoming and undoing.

Your hand slips away from him, your faint smile hollow. “I do. Two weeks.”

The Endless are formidable individually. The raw power holding this universe together, given form and reason. Their realms are kingdoms that put others to shame. You’ve visited plenty by now to draw the unsurprising conclusion. Dealing with each sibling is an exercise in patience, tact, and subtle respect in differing shades.

Sitting in the same room as seven of them makes you want to crawl out of your skin and run for the hills. You’ve met them individually in the past. There’ve been a handful of occasions where you encountered several simultaneously. But never all together in the same room like this.

They’re terrible and wonderful and so suffocating in their casual existence that every instinct in your mortal body warns you of one indisputable truth:

“I shouldn’t be here.”

Death shakes her head promptly, giving you a stern glance. “Nonsense, sweetheart,” she asserts. “You’re right where you belong. Isn’t that right, Destiny?”

Destiny of the Endless sits unmoving, only his mouth visible behind his flowing, beige hood. His hand rests on the Book of Destiny, pale but relaxed. Whenever Destiny does move, the chain connecting him to the book rattles through your bones.

He hosts these family gatherings, though all Endless have equal prominence in this universe and its continuous function. Despite it, from your angle, it appears as if he’s the one at the head of the table. Oldest and certainly the most overwhelming in his sheer aura. It took him a simple swipe of his hand for an additional chair to materialise at the table for you. For his fluttering, eerily silent attendants to lay a plate and glass on either side of you.

“All is as it should be, sister,” Destiny replies, his voice whistling wind through dry leaves.

Your pulse beats against the curve of your throat. If your stomach weren’t already empty, you would likely be throwing up right now.

Death grins brightly, pleased. Her smile is no doubt meant to be reassuring when she angles back towards you. “See, that’s a yes.”

Your words form clumsily on your tongue, “I didn’t mean to impose—”

Sitting on your left, Delirium tightens her grip on you, cutting your words short. Her chair had been dragged towards yours, your arms linked despite the uncomfortable angle. The scent of leather, sweat, and burnt sugar bites into your nostrils. Today, her hair keeps flickering between bright orange, yellow, and neon green.

“Uhm… impose?” she mutters. Her words flow so swiftly that it’s an effort to keep up. “No, no, imposing to be imposed on, and, um, imposing is impolite. What is impolite?”

“To impose would be impolite, yes.” Your words come out measured. “Like that man. You went into his home.”

“Well, he, well, he wasn’t a very good man.” Delirium’s voice thins, frustration biting into each syllable. On your other side, you sense Destruction turning in your direction. Tension blinks out from Delirium’s lovely features, her different-coloured eyes shining in the dimly lit room. “I made him see colours. Really pretty, pretty colours.”

Yes, she certainly did. You’re hopeful the man received a swift death via villagers, others having no doubt concluded him mad or consorting with devils and demons. As if to illustrate her point, Delirium lightly positions her thumb and index fingers together, forming an O. She giggles, blowing air, and much to your unspoken wonder, multicoloured bubbles float through the air. Some remain bubbles, bloated and bobbing. Others shape into animals and birds.

“I am not an Endless,” you remind, feeling foolish for doing so. As if anyone could mistake you for one of them. Your eyes briefly skim over each sibling, shifting in your seat for the dozenth time. “I don’t think it’s right for me to be here.”

Despair, sitting opposite to you beside her twin, hoods her eyes. The metal hook on her finger digs into her chin. Blood bubbles beneath the honed metal. “Yes. Mortal.”

Her whispering, thin voice blankets you, and your insides ball up.

Destruction chuckles on your right, deep and echoing in the dining hall, smoothing over your suddenly chilled, clammy skin. “Sister, do you meet many mortals who live over three hundred years? I see no harm in you being here, dear Wanderer.”

Desire stretches indolently in their seat, candlelight washing over their indescribable features. Scoff ripples from their chest, their chin dropping in their open palm.

“Right, is anyone else opposed to Wanderer being here?” Desire voices, sweeping a challenging look around the table. When no one speaks, Desire shrugs, arms open at their sides. “See, sweet thing, relax. Have some fruit.”

They pointedly push the fruit basket closer towards you. The fruit does look tasty, and you hadn’t eaten in two days, but don't think you can stomach it right now.

Dream casts an inpatient glance Destiny’s way. In extravagant robes, Dream Lord appears the most disgruntled with being summoned. “Why are we here, Destiny? You do not call upon the family without a cause.”

Destiny’s answer comes predictably vague: “You are here, brother Dream. That is all.”

Despite your unease to be dropped into their family meeting, annoyance pinpricks you at his words. Always the same ambiguity, always what the book dictates, and never what someone might feel. Destiny is not human. It would be unfair for you to hold any of the Endless to mortal standards. For you to expect them to comprehend sentiments that are so far out of their reach.

It doesn’t take away from the sting, though. At least this time, the curse was mindful enough to drop you inside Destiny’s stronghold inside the Garden of Forking Ways. Last time, you found yourself helplessly lost inside the boundless maze for weeks. Destiny did nothing to aid you—it was as it was meant to be. You associate him most closely with that wild animal fear and sheer helplessness. You can’t help it.

“Why the rush?” Desire calls out, interrupting your thoughts. “Eager to get back to another failed relationship, sweet Dream?”

Shadows coil around Dream Lord’s feet, seated between Delirium and Death. You silently question if it’s a purposeful partition.

“That’s enough from you, sibling,” Dream warns.

Desire’s lovely mouth spreads into a quick, beaming smile; all teeth bared and tawny eyes aglow with sadistic amusement. A predator having scented blood. “Oh, come on now,” they coo. “We all come here to talk as a family; even lovely Wanderer is present. Yet you think yourself above everything. Your realm, your rules—we’ve heard it all before! You’re oh so dull.”

Despair slumps beside her twin, face downcast. “Dull. Yes, rather dull indeed.”

“And are you perhaps bored, my sibling?” Dream returns, a slight pinch to his imperious features. His voice remains perfectly aloof. From this outsider’s perspective, it’s easy to see why Desire views Dream as supercilious. “Did you run out of adequate ways to amuse yourself?”

Momentarily swallowing down your fear, you slant your head over to one side, “Dream.”

Dream pauses at your drawn, anxious expression. The ignited stars dim, draining away, but the hard slant of his broad shoulders doesn’t drop.

“Oh, don’t run to his defence.” Desire’s voice is just edging on goading. Their nails tap on the wooden table when they cross their legs, leaning towards you. “This is quite characteristic. Surely you find him just as insufferable as the rest of us?”

Death’s retort is whip-sharp. “Desire. Shut up.”

Others around the table appear calmly accepting. They’ve seen this fight play out in the past a thousand times. While you’ve never demanded reasons for the bad blood between the two Endless, it’s clear it runs deep, a problem stemming from innumerable centuries long since past. And very clearly not a situation for you to get involved in. You’re not naive or arrogant enough to assume you can fix their problems for them. Neither Desire nor Dream seems particularly invested in settling anything, either.

But inciting like this is dangerous. Desire has never attempted to spark arguments involving you in the past, no matter how spiteful the mood.

As if mentally arriving at the same conclusion, Destruction’s rumbling words vocalise your unspoken plea: “Do not involve Wanderer in your quarrel, sibling.”

Delirium curls into herself, her legs raised on the chair and pressing into her chest. Her hold on your arm turns near painful. “Arguing, fights, it's not nice, but it… um… that’s not where Desire is supposed to be. It’s um… it’s somewhere else. It’s in Dreams.”

You’re not sure how to decode Delirium’s words. You once believed them to be mindless babbles. Then some phrases would come back to haunt you months or even years later. Whatever caused the turn in Delirium from Delight gave her foresight no other Endless seemed to possess. Save, perhaps, Destiny.

Desire’s fingers curl beneath their pointed chin. Desire surveys you, then his older brother, with a feline's slowness. “Well, well. Aren’t you two sweet on each other?”

This time, the darkness curling beneath Dream’s chair becomes physical. Visible even to your mortal eye.

“Cease your poisonous stipulations,” Dream says icily.

Desire scoffs, dropping back in their seat with a graceful, seductive stretch. Heat encompasses your being, pouring in the crevices of your skin. Desire’s effect is all but impossible to escape this close.

“Is it not my function, oh dear brother of mine, to sow desire in the hearts of all living things, mortal and otherwise? What are they without their desires?” The Endless straightens just as swiftly, their elbows digging back into the table while they eye you, chin back in their hands. Something cruel and fragmented, endlessly amused, slides through those golden irises—an intent you’ve never seen Desire direct your way until now. “Come, my sweet, doesn’t it get dreary? All those mortals set on your suffering? Surely you have missed the sweet, loving embrace of Desire? I could make you desire anything… even a kiss.”

And then…

The world melts away, and everything once making up your being bows and folds under the power pressing into you. You’re but a child. You are atoms. And you’ve forgotten how terrible their power could be once unleashed.

There’s only cocoon and darkness and golden, glowing eyes beckoning you, warming you, bewitching you. Your limbs are too far away to control, your will dulled into thin, worn paper—brittle to the touch. Your skin is too hot, and the air in your lungs is insufficient. It feels so good. So good, so good—

Even a kiss, even a kiss, even a kiss—

Your limbs are on strings, tugged in one direction, then another. Distantly, horror chokes you, and you scratch at the walls inside your mind, clawing for some semblance of control, but there’s only a sultry embrace of desire.

“Desire, no—”

“Stop—”

“Enough.” Something inside your chest trembles at that single word’s sheer, unbridled power. Your numbed senses are clear but not enough to free you. You're trapped, caught on the verge of awareness. “You dare.”

“Now, now, dear Dream. Did I get under your skin? It’s but jest. Lighten up.”

Few stars emerge in your blackened vision, guiding you closer. They urge you forward to safety, but you’re unable to move. It feels good to be here, so good and hot. There’s no pain, only desire and pleasure—

“We do not control mortals, sister-brother. Their will is their own. Release Wanderer.”

Destiny’s tepid command shreds through the heated, desire-filled veil. You return to yourself with a choked gasp, snapping into your tiny mortal body with a painful lurch. It’s overwhelming. Every sense was smothered to such a degree, it’s as if everything is twice as heightened now.

“Are you insane?” Death snaps. You’ve never heard her this angry until now. There’s always a smile on her face and a playful gleam in her eyes. But you’re too busy shaking to be afraid. “What was that, huh?”

Your hands convulse. Bloody indents line your palms. Your nails must have cut into your skin hard enough to draw blood. You fought. But what can a mortal do when faced with an Endless? You were erased, folded down to nothing. You are nothing.

Voices melt into one. You’re too shaken to separate them. When some semblance of awareness settles in, you realise how awful these… seconds, minutes, or hours have truly been.

You’re half straddling Destruction, arms half wrapped around his broad shoulders, your mouth near his neck. Horror liquefies your limbs, rooting you in your spot. Too much—it’s too much. Humiliation leaves you immobile, but Destruction rests his hand between your shoulder blades, his gaze kind and concerned beneath his bunched eyebrows.

“Are you well?” he asks quietly over the clamour behind you.

Your chin wobbles. Shame lashes your skin. You’ve been used as no more than a puppet to be thrown at him. On him. Like some mindless whore. A witless worshipper, begging for their chosen god’s favour, not understanding what they’re inviting. How the gods are never kind. How they only use and break for their amusement.

Even though Destruction doesn’t appear angry, you can’t stop yourself from croaking out, “I… I… I’m sorry.”

His sympathetic frown is visible even beneath his thick beard. He cradles you to him but with gentleness indicating how fragile he believes you to be at this moment. “Do not fret. It is quite alright, my friend.”

“Can you…?”

Your words splinter. The burn behind your eyes turns painfully prickly. Destruction’s handsome face creases further. He nods mutely, carefully manoeuvring your body to a standing position. His large hand presses between your shoulder blades, steading and hot through your thin robes. His fingers fold slightly, protectively. Your gratitude for his unprompted support is immeasurable. An anchor while your knees shake.

“It was a joke,” Desire calls out over his siblings. “Desire is who I am. It’s all in good fun. Isn’t that right, sweet thing?”

Your shoulders spasm, your back still to them. Your insides churn at the prompt, and you’re unsure if you’re about to be sick, cry, or some horrific mix of both.

You thought… you were foolish enough to assume…

How many times have you landed in the Threshold, thrilled to see Desire? How often have you shared jokes, laughs, and peaceful evenings and mornings in the twilight land? What other touch or embrace have you known over three centuries that didn’t end in agony but Desire’s? You’ve told them numerous times you have no preference for any sibling in their family—that you cherish Desire’s company as much as others, perhaps even more so. Because with Desire, you could remember what it’s like to be human—to want and need.

You had foolishly believed you were friends.

Now you see the truth. You feel the horrible, numbing heat licking across your flesh—the aftermath of this ultimate betrayal. Desire’s power shimmers on the outskirts of your mind, ready to devour you anew. Rob you of reason and choice.

“I—you… I trusted you.” Everyone falls silent at your frayed words, scraping through the eerily quiet dining hall. When you rotate clumsily towards them, you look only at Desire. You avoid others. Your humiliation burns too brightly for anything else. “You… just made me feel like nothing. You degraded me. I’m no more than a thing for you to play with.”

Some foreign emotion spasms briefly through Desire’s face—gone in a blink. Their answering smile is so patronising a deeper crack splinters your chest. “Wanderer. Be a good sport. It was simply a bit of fun.”

A bit of fun.

Desire can be fickle, and it can be cruel. But you’ve forgotten just how cruel they could be. To Desire, this is no more than a practical joke. You’re only a silly mortal. No wonder you don’t get the joke. You’ll get over yourself soon enough. But no one else is laughing or smiling, either. Even Despair in your peripheral remains hunched and mute, typically first to her twin’s defence.

“Fun.”

The word shatters something between you the second you voice it. You can see it on Desire’s face. The realisation settling in. There is no regret, no apology. Nor will there ever be. It’s clear from the dismissive curl of Desire’s mouth. They don’t see anything wrong with what just transpired.

It makes it worse. So much worse.

“Wanderer, brother Destruction. Sit.”

Destiny’s perfectly poised voice shreds whatever little composure you’ve been clinging onto.

“You knew, didn’t you?” The accusation rips through the room like wildfire. You shake off Destructions comforting touch, your lungs filling with air and spilling out fire. “You knew Desire was going to do that. That’s the only reason why you permitted me to stay. Do I not suffer every day? Or do you enjoy making me into your little plaything? Have I not been humiliated enough for your amusement?”

Destiny says nothing.

You shove away from the table with disgust. Your feet tangle before you command your sluggish limbs. Death rise after you immediately.

“Wanderer—”

You flinch away from her extended hand, from all of them. You don’t care what invisible line you may be overstepping. “Don’t touch me,” you spit out. “I never should have stayed.”

Your feet carry you several paces until another, more resounding voice calls, “Wanderer.”

A part of you doesn’t understand why you pause or look back. Dream’s gaze sears into you. Yet you can’t untangle a single thing you see burrowed there. He’s standing as well, his hand flat on the table. Foolishly, you hope he will come after you, say something in defence of you. But Dream is Dream. He’s likely just as clueless about why you took this so badly as others. Perhaps the fury you see glimmering in those starlit eyes is but your imagination. Another pretty lie your sentimental, human heart would be all too happy to convince yourself of.

He doesn’t move. You pivot away, your shoulders hunching.

Desire’s chuckle licks at your back, silky and smooth. “So tense, that one. It was only a bit of fun.”

No one laughs. No one responds.

Only a bit of fun.

“Take me away, take me away from here,” you sob, stumbling into a shadowed hallway.

For once, the curse listens.

Rivulets of sweat drip down your back. The puddle of blood at your feet is starting to go dark. These observations float from somewhere beyond the dense fog shrouding your mind. It’s so difficult to focus. Wiping across your sweaty forehead, you lean on your arm, breathing deeply. You’ve forgotten how suffocating the humidity could be here in Georgia.

Mercifully only heat-blurred fields surround you. The vast, open stretch of highway is all you see on either side.

Lights dance in your vision, your ears ringing. Maybe it’s the curse and not the heat. Your limbs obey no command, barely held together by sheer stubborn will to follow the tether pulsing in your chest. The spell’s power is already dimming. You have no choice but to jump. This is your only chance to get to Corinthian first.

“Come on… come on… I don’t obey you.” Your nails scrape on the heated metal, your head hanging low. “You obey me.”

Your tongue rolls the words clumsily. No matter how much you swallow, more saliva floods your mouth, causing your stomach to cramp. Your knees beg to fold beneath you. Lay down in this tall grass and wait for the inevitable that will never arrive. It’s foolish. Death is far from the worst thing that can befall an individual. It was the very first lesson you learned.

Digging deeper, you claw and yank on the curse’s power, squeezing it until the bleed becomes physical. Until your limbs rip from one place to another.

When you settle back into your body, skin stinging, your knees hit the ground immediately. Blood dribbles past your lips, your sweat-covered forehead pressing into the soft dirt. You pant loudly, blood trickling past your cracked lips. Pain is coming from everywhere. Sounds mangle into each other when you attempt to raise your head. Your stomach protests viciously, leaving you dry heaving. Nothing but more blood escapes your body.

A hotel sign. It’s the first thing you register. You’ve landed near one, practically on it. Your fingernails dig into the dirt as you stumble into a standing position. The tether Johanna’s spell has threaded pulses harder and faster in your chest. There. Corinthian has to be there.

Cradling your sore midsection, you painstakingly make your way towards the hotel. Relentless heat melts your already nonexistent strength reserves down to nothing.

Several people glance in your direction when you push through the reception door. In this climate, your attire certainly raises eyebrows, but you remind yourself there’s no way Corinthian can know you’re here this time.

“Can I help you?”

You stumble to a stop, breathing heavily. A man with a tiny hat and a nametag reading Fun Land sits behind a table, his annoyance palpable while he stares at you expectedly. It takes considerable effort to gather the strength required to speak.

“No.”

You turn to go.

“Hey, woah! This is a convention-only area. Can’t you read?”

Following the direction the man is gesturing wildly towards, you find a board reading Cereal Convention printed in large, bold letters. The rest blurs, sweat stinging your eyes. You work your jaw.

“No,” you repeat.

The man’s petulant glare would be comical if you were in a better mood.

“You can’t go here,” he declares stiffly.

Your fingers curl weakly, convulsing at your sides. You didn’t come this far to be precluded from finding Corinthian by a goddamn sign. By a cereal convention. Cereal convention. Cereal. At the back of your foggy mind, something nags at you.

Your brows dip inwards, your gaze slipping towards the man. His bravado stutters, washing away from him. He shrinks backwards the longer you stare at him, his throat working on a gulp. Your lips compress into a stiffer line. Someone brushes behind you, stepping up to the table. Fun Land exhales in audible relief, serving them, pretending he’s too busy to pay you further notice.

Fine. You’ll find another way.

Stalking outside, you keep to the shade, leaning into the wall for support. It doesn’t take long to track down the delivery entrance. Every hotel has one, and depending on the time of day, they’re not the best protected. Like right now, in the afternoon, after housekeeping has gone home, leaving only a handful of staff on standby.

He’s in here somewhere. The hotel corridors melt together. Beige walls and stale, humid air. They warp, smearing together into nothing but sensation. You’re a rat caught inside yet another maze. Sickness churns inside your stomach.

And then, impossibly, you see him.

A pale head of golden hair illuminated by washed-out light, his back to you while he strolls ahead and away from you.

“Corinthian.”

The raspy exhale ricochets. The nightmare stops dead in his tracks. Until this precise second, he wasn’t there, wasn’t real, but with his name, the nightmare becomes a reality. Corridor may separate you, but the spell winks out, confirming your suspicion.

Aircon buzzes through the long, otherwise vacant corridor. Your heart thunders in your ears.

Then, Corinthian speaks: “You shouldn’t be here.”

A sob wells in your chest at his drawling, smooth words. Nearly two hundred years you haven’t seen him. Over a century seeking him out, having to live with the ramifications of atrocities he’s been inflicting. And now, here, it’s just you and him. You’re not sure which sensation pulses in you stronger: anger or relief.

Your mouth quivers, your tongue dragging across your dry, cracked lips. “I searched for you.”

“I know you did,” he replies listlessly, his back still facing you. It hurts, because you were right. He’s been knowingly avoiding you. As if reading your mind, Corinthian raises his hand, and your stomach shrivels when you spot your ring firm on his finger. “I have this to thank you for, but it would seem you found me out anyway. Shame.”

The ring. Of course.

A small piece of humanity for you to hold. I told you, they’re not all bad. I hope this can help you experience it.

And experience it he did. An essential part of yourself put away in that ring must have given him a sense of your presence nearby. He used your own present against you.

The Corinthian finally turns to face you, all but unchanged except for his modern hairstyle and refined round shades. You want to say so many things to him that your tongue refuses to work altogether. A great chasm yawns between you, and you have no idea how to bridge it.

“What are you doing?” you ask at last.

There’s no smirk or sly grin in sight. He’s as closed off as you. Despite his seeming indifference, you read the subtle tension lining Corinthian’s broad shoulders. He can hide from others, trick and lie to them if he pleases, but never you.

“What I was made to do,” he replies tightly.

“No. You’re hurting them.”

Corinthian’s jaw locks. “He made me in your image, Wanderer. Now I’m making the world in mine. I thought you’d be proud.”

A disbelieving scoff rips from your chest, burning your windpipe as if acid washed down it. “Proud?” you parrot. “You’re killing them.”

Your harsh condemnation dissolves whatever neutrality remains in the space between you. Prior uncertainty dashes beneath a strain of a century dripping in the blood of innocents.

“Did they do less to you?” Corinthian’s voice is all nightmare; honeyed, cruel, and seductive. His head tilts playfully to one side. “How often did they torture you? Shun you? Sought to eradicate you? Still you defend them as you did him.”

Your sight muddies, and it takes a shake of your head to clear it. “You can’t punish all for crimes of a few.”

A snarl twists Corinthian’s mouth, his feet carrying him towards you in a measured, prowling stalk.

“A few? They’re all the same: greedy, selfish, and cruel. The curse reveals. I reflect. They don’t change; they only learn how to hide better.” He pauses, licking his lips as he considers you. Something seems to occur to him, a faint laugh vibrating from his chest. “Do you have any idea how many times I stopped them? Punished them for hurting you? New Orleans in ‘31. Berlin in ‘43. Vienna in ‘55. Seoul in ‘62. Moscow in ‘71. Bangkok in ‘89. New York in ‘00. Why those were all me and then some. I was there. I’ve always been there.”

Each date punctures through you like a stray bullet. Honed and whetted for the single purpose of hurting you in a different sense. A fragmented nightmare. You’ve chased a mirage while the nightmare has spent a century mirroring your steps, keeping you safe from the shadows whenever your paths crossed unbeknownst to you.

There’ve been times—

You thought you’d caught glimpses of him in decades-long since lost. But unfailingly, you’ve only ever found empty alleyways when you pursued these figments. Eventually, you stopped chasing these mirages. The pain was too great. But it’s never been just your overreactive imagination, has it? He was real. He was there.

He’s spent a century killing indiscriminately while also keeping you safe. You want to scream at him for the evil he’s committed and cry from sheer relief he hasn’t forgotten you.

“Then why hide?” you croak, stumbling closer. “Why not speak with me?”

“Oh, come now.” Corinthian clicks his tongue. He turns away, nostrils flaring, then turns to face you again. “You know why. You would have asked me to come back, and for you, I would have.”

His features blur, your words barely audible, “And would that have been so terrible?”

“Come back to what? Dream’s ball and chain?” Acidic words, despite their softness. His rage deflates instantly, a huffing laugh escaping him as if he’s surprised himself with the lapse. “You think he gives a fuck about either of us? He threw you out. You left.”

Indignation flares in your chest. “Not by choice.”

“Then you should have taken me with you. But you left me. All you ever do is play by Dream’s rules. I figured out how to leave the Dreaming back during Dreamfall, but I stayed. Wonder why.”

You have no response to that. You’re left standing there, gaping. For you. Who else? He had no one else there; no other reason to stay other than your presence.

“So that’s it,” you begin shakily, your words rasping, sniffling. “All this because you believe I chose Dream and his rules over you?”

“What did you do to yourself?”

Corinthian’s voice has gone dreadfully quiet. Fiercely unhappy. Too late, you realise you’re sniffling because blood is dripping from your nose. Clumsily, you swipe the back of your hand over your chin. Crevices in your skin crack with dried blood.

“It was never a choice, don’t you get it?” you whisper, your words pouring out thick and wet with emotion. “It’s always been you. Always. I was terrified the journey would destroy you. Had I known, I would have taken you with me in a heartbeat.”

Corinthian closes the remaining distance between you, grasping you by the forearms. It’s such a relief to have him near again. You sag into him, trembling. You try to raise your hand to wipe beneath your nose, but your limbs are too stiff to obey.

“What did you do, Wanderer?” He sounds furious while he examines you, as if only now realising the extent of your deterioration. “What did you do yourself?”

“I had to get to you first,” you tell him. Blood smudges the lapels of his jacket where you grasp it. “Please, you have to stop. They don’t deserve this, Cori.”

He looks disgusted at your words, but your legs fail you before he responds. Corinthian catches you before your knees hit the carpeted ground.

“It hurts.” His words come out hissing, sharp with incredulity. “Why does it hurt?”

Your chin jolts upwards, your bloodstained smile trembling around the edges. “You know why. I’m inside of you. You can’t escape that.”

Neither of you can. You’ll carry him in you until your bitter end, as he will carry you until his.

“Shh. I got you.” Corinthian tucks you into him when a whimper of pain escapes you. His hand cradles the back of your head. “I’m going to set us both free.”

And then, through horror, darkness closes in.

Motion.

“Who is that?”

A woman’s voice. Unfamiliar.

“Oh, yes. This one is with me. Won’t you be a good girl and share that tidbit with others, so we don’t have any… complications. I appreciate it.”

“But I thought—”

Arms tighten around you possessively—the air coils, suffused with thick tension.

“Good Doctor. No one touches this one. Or they'll have to deal with me. Personally.”

Footsteps retreat near instantly, the atmosphere lightening in the absence. You’re resting on something velvety. You have no idea where you are, but you know you’re safe.

“Cori…”

“Shh, I’ll be back before you know it.” Cold glass touches your lips. When your lips part, soothing water slips into your awaiting mouth. After several mouthfuls, the glass disappears. A cool hand traces your face. “Things will be different real soon, you’ll see.”

You reach blindly, seeking. “Don’t go.”

“Oh, don’t worry. After I’m done, we’ll have a Dreaming of our own.”

Then nothing.

Anchor around your ankle. Plunging, bitter cold water, pressure, pressure, a hand reaching uselessly towards the shrinking light above, then nothing—

Ropes bite into your wrists, the pyre is tall, and the crowd jeers with open delight. They throw things at you; some hit, some miss. You don’t know if you hate them or pity them. Both, neither. Sahsin’s face is disgusted, filled with hate. She has positioned herself in front of the throbbing mob. When the fire comes, Sahsin enjoys it. When the fire comes, the agony devours all else—

Blank page.

And beneath, a faint, pulsing power of Endless Destruction.

“My lord.”

Urgent footsteps head in his direction. Morpheus raises his head, his grip on the tome in his hands white-knuckled.

Loyal Lucienne and a rather familiar figure a step behind her.

“I apologise for leaving, Lord,” Fiddler’s Green begins, flustered but entreating. “But you must help. He’s killing them.”

You awake with a pained gasp. Your head swims, your fingers clumsily seeking purchase.

An eerily silent hotel room greets you when your hiccuping gasps assuage into a steadier rhythm. Corinthian is nowhere in sight. You wrench yourself from beneath the comfortable covers, stumbling. You grab your carelessly thrown coat on your way out, shrugging on the familiar weight. At least your vision is clearer than earlier. Pain remains undiminished by your fretful rest.

The hotel is unnaturally quiet—your nerves prickle. Nothing good ever comes from places where there should be life, being devoid of it. Unease pools in your stomach while you stumble through winding corridors. Where did everyone go?

Outside, twilight has settled over the landscape. Your pace increases, your palms dragging across the walls to keep moving.

You find the reception empty, the convention table barren. Except…

“—a black mirror, made to reflect everything about itself that humanity will not confront. But look at you—”

Your body turns to stone mid-step. There’s no confusing that voice with anyone—the absolute power infused into every deliberate, low syllable.

With a start, you realise your knees have bent, your coat pooling around your ankles. You’re scared. Dream wasn’t supposed to be here. Not when you’re not there to mediate. Clawing at the walls, you force your legs forward. Your bones quake in protest with each step.

Shoving into the conference room, you find the room full. Hotel patrons sit in neat rows, their heads bowed and eyes closed.

Dream of the Endless and the nightmare make for a lonely, contrasting sight on the stage: dark and light.

Corinthian’s small smile is scornful. “I’m not the problem, Dream.”

“You’re right,” Dream Lord concurs quietly. “This is my fault, not yours. I had so much hope for you, but I created you poorly then. So I must uncreate you now.”

Dream’s arm lifts in the air between them. You lurch forward, stumbling up the stairs.

“No!”

You let out a dry sob, pushing past Dream to get to the nightmare. The contours of Corinthian’s face have begun dissolving, singed red at the edges, disappearing back into the sand he was fashioned from.

Corinthian chokes out a breath, grinning widely, grasping your hand. “Hey, trouble—”

His hand in yours crumbles. A wounded, animalistic sound rips from you. There’s a futile, blind attempt to grasp onto his body as it slips between your fingers. Through your arms, and then out of your life.

“No! No, no.”

Your knees hit the stage so hard the sound is a thunderclap through the hushed room. Sand lays in a golden pile at your feet. A tiny skull containing teeth for eyes is all that remains and—

Your ring. Corinthian’s faint warmth still lingers on the metal. Wet dots fall into the sand. Only then do you register the tears dripping down your face. Followed by speckles of blood. It seems appropriate that, in the end, he should have your blood also.

Featherlight touch on your shoulder only registers after Dream’s voice floats through your agony: “Wanderer. I am sorry.”

Perhaps under different circumstances, you would have examined this moment closer—Dream Lord, an Endless, on his knees beside you, his voice impossibly soft. Instead, you want to disappear.

“I know,” you sob, shaking, half leaning towards the ground. If it weren’t for Dream’s grip on you, there’s no doubt in your mind you would collapse right where Corinthian has. Something mangles inside you, far beyond physical. “I know you had to stop him. I… to me… he… to me he’s…”

Everything.

Dragging your hands desperately through the slippery grains, you gather them in a smaller circle.

“What are you doing?”

Dream’s question is uncharacteristically gentle. There’s deeper awareness that a wrong question could shatter you completely.

Past your raw vocal cords, you only manage: “I—I can’t leave him. I can’t leave him again.”

You’re not sure if you’re coherent enough for him to understand. Each word borders on a pained howl. Black is rapidly devouring your fading vision. Too much. It’s too much. You’re about to explode. Collapse like the nightmare did, utterly undone.

Several scarlet drops drip into the sand, and Dream sucks in a deep breath beside you, his grip on you tightening.

“You’re bleeding.”

He doesn’t get a response. Blackness devours you whole.

Recovery takes three weeks. You’re unconscious for the first two. Another week crawls by until you can move again.

The simple fact that it takes you so long to become functional only confirms that Dream brought back a broken soul into the Dreaming. You’ve survived limbs being severed. Past incidents where your skin was peeled off. But this goes beyond skin deep.

You haven’t travelled since the incident. The mere thought induces a fresh dose of cramping terror through your system. The curse, wounded and worn, has retreated. Dormant. For now.

“You mourn him.”

You jump in your spot. Your fingers close protectively over the ring in your hand. Dream steps into your line of sight, his coat fluttering around his lithe figure. His face is slanted away from you, observing the waterfront. You try to hide your surprise at seeing him.

He’s been… distant these last three weeks. Not cold, but…

Sad.

There’s no other way to delineate the forlorn stares that seem to follow you.

“I’m not an idiot. What Corinthian was doing was horrific,” you say dully, tugging on stray blades of grass.

Fiddler’s Green has returned, taking his post once more. It should make you happy. He apologised personally for his departure, but you understood his reasonings for leaving. Without his creator, Fiddler’s Green wanted to experience what it was like to be human. What right do you have to judge him for such a wish? Yet memory is a cruel mistress—the recollections of the one whose absence is so torturously felt are everywhere.

“He took lives that were never his to take,” you continue. Anger bites into controlled syllables. “Not to mention his plan to have Rose become the new heart of the Dreaming. Did he realise the universe would have collapsed in on itself? He had to be stopped.”

It was what had awoken you back at the hotel. It’s only later that you learned the extent of Corinthian’s plan. Rose Walker was the vortex. Given enough time, she would have become the centre of the Dreaming, drawing dreams and nightmares to her. And collapsed this universe as a result. Dream would have killed her—it’s the only time the Endless are permitted to take mortal life, if they’re an active threat—but Rose’s grandmother had stepped in last second. A woman who should have been the vortex if it hadn’t been for Dream’s capture. If the sleeping sickness that swept through the waking world had not robbed her of life.

“But you mourn him still.”

Unequivocal insistence. Your composed mask cracks around the edges. Lying would be pointless.

“Of course I do,” you exhale, pained.

Dream’s fingers curl at his side, but he doesn’t look your way. “This was my oversight, Wanderer. Do not bear the guilt for those lost.”

Trees ripple and shiver in the faint breeze. Waterfall roars to your left, while to your right, the dark shores of the Dreaming reflect sunshine like the darkest obsidian. You consider the Dream Lord while he watches the beach with a stony expression. Utterly closed off—same old Dream.

Deflating, you struggle back onto your feet.

“Their blood is on my hands, too,” you say, turning to go.

Guilt will follow you no matter what he maintains.

“Are you departing once more?” he calls out, halting you in your tracks. He’s scrutinising you when you peek his way. “You are not fit for travel.”

Offering a throwaway smile, you shrug. “I’m a rubber ball. I bounce back quickly.”

“Stay until Dreamfall if the curse permits it.” Dream pauses after his brisk request, catching himself with a swallow. Awkwardness permeates the air. “It would mean a great deal to others if you celebrated with them.”

You loosen a reluctant breath, squinting at him. “Do you want me to stay?”

Something shifts between you at the forthright prompt; tightening, warming. Surprise collects in your chest at the fact you dared to ask. But you’re tired of feigning, acting as if you’re both not caught in some bizarre impasse.

Dream’s lips part softly, his answer a mere exhale, “I would.”

Light, tingling sensation webs through your chest. You hadn’t expected that. “Under one condition.”

“Name it.”

“Answer me something, Morpheus. Truthfully.” With deliberate slowness, you step into his bubble, so close Dream’s lashes flutter as he peers at you. There’s such unbearable weight to his gaze. There’s always been a raging storm brewing there, but this is more. Heavier. “Corinthian was convinced that you made him in my image. Is it true?”

Your jaw sets stubbornly, the nightmare’s name stinging your tongue. Dream’s eyes roam over your features, seeking some unknown truth. You’re not asking about physical similarities, but you permit him this moment. Because he digs deeper, because your heart is in your throat when Dream finally settles on his truth:

“While I did not recognise it as such at the time, I believe I did.”

You’ve known, been aware of this fact for centuries. Since Corinthian shared his hypothesis, you’ve been unable to scrub it from your mind. But to have confirmation from Dream himself paints many past events in a different light.

“I made you poorly then… a black mirror made to reflect everything humanity will not confront.” Recalling Dream Lord’s words, you stagger backwards, your mind whirling with thoughts. A startled gasp pushes from your lungs, your attention snapping back to the Endless. Suddenly all the puzzle pieces slot perfectly into place. “I had it all wrong. Corinthian was a manifestation of your anger for what humanity was doing to me. He was to be your mirror, your teacher, so humanity may choose to be better. So they may learn to overcome their darkest impulses.”

Staggering backwards, words escape you in a torrent, “But it went wrong, didn’t it? You gave him too much of that anger—the fury of an Endless and reckless, unshakable defiance of a cursed mortal. You created a masterpiece by giving him too much. By making something that is so much more than just a nightmare. A perfect hybrid between an Endless and a mortal.”

Dream says nothing in response. It’s the only confirmation you need.

In the end, you stay. But this time, you’re the one who avoids the Dream Lord.

“You’re always welcome in my chambers, sweet Dream. It’s lovely to see you. Can I get you anything you desire?”

Morpheus strolls through the glossy scarlet chambers of his younger sibling’s stronghold. Desire of the Endless curls with each word spoken, stretching indolently across their seat. Loving malice lines planes of Desire’s face, enigmatic and magnetic as their name suggests.

Dream moves closer. “I desire nothing from you, save some answers.”

Desire pouts, sitting up, their hands in their lap. “Oh? Do tell. I love a test.”

He’s never understood Desire’s love for games. Petulant slights or wish to inflict harm. To manipulate and use. Once…

He supposes it no longer matters what their relationship might have been once—too many years arc between them: too much history and bad blood. Morpheus prowls through the gallery, briefly flicking his attention towards his family’s sigils.

“Unity Kincaid should have been the vortex of this age. But someone saw fit to take advantage of my imprisonment and fathered a child with her, knowing full well that it would become the vortex and I would be left with no choice but to kill it.”

A mock gasp escapes Desire’s ruby-painted lips. Their golden eyes blow wide open, startled and innocent, while they monitor Dream.

“Are you implying I meddled with affairs of another Endless domain, dear brother?” Desire’s pout wobbles when Dream doesn't respond. The faux innocence melts away in a blink, leaving behind nothing but conniving malice, peering back through a hooded stare. “Oh, fine, was I really that obvious?”

A brief, cool smile touches Dream’s lips, his words coming out frosty, “No. You covered your tracks remarkably well.”

“High praise, coming from you,” Desire tuts, grinning sharply.

“What did you intend?” Dream heads towards the other Endless unhurriedly. “That I should spill family blood? With all that would entail?”

“This time, it almost worked.” Desire’s grin stretches wider, pleased. “I haven’t seen you this worked up since my little wrangle with lovely Wanderer. How is she, by the way? Still coughing up blood?”

His younger sibling adjusts their position once again, sitting up straighter. Bracing for a fight, Morpheus realises belatedly. This is a sore spot that always elicits a reaction. But this time, Morpheus will not be giving his sibling the satisfaction. He’s observed Desire’s and Wanderer’s relationship—or what little of it remains—long enough to draw his own conclusions.

“You do not fool me,” Morpheus begins deliberately. The corners of Desire’s mouth tilt downwards slightly. “I know your fickle heart, my sibling, and you resent the fact Wanderer forgives others but not you. But you fail to understand why that same forgiveness has not been extended your way. We of the Endless are the servants of the living, not their masters. We exist only because they know deep in their hearts that we exist. We do not manipulate them. If anything, they manipulate us.”

“Then perhaps I shall pay Wanderer a visit in person.” Desire drags their thumbs over the edge of their lips, sly in their wily deliberation. “I do, after all, wear your face now. But unlike you, I will endeavour to be a far more… devoted lover.”

Wrath kindles in his chest. Morpheus knows. He’s read about your and Desire’s encounter at the shores of the Dreaming while he was locked away.

He shakes his head. “Still, you fail to see. We are their dolls, Desire. You and Despair, and even poor Delirium, will do well to remember that.”

Desire presents him with a dismissive shrug, their nose wrinkling. “Maybe I don’t understand.”

“No, perhaps you do not,” Morpheus agrees softly. Circling, he slips behind his younger sibling. Desire’s head wrenches backwards, their gulping gasp nearly lost when Morpheus twists the other Endless’ head back, peering down at the blonde coldly. “Then let me tell you something you will understand: mess with me or mine again, and I shall forget you are family. You lay a finger on Wanderer, and I will make every circle of Hell feel like kindness by comparison. Do you believe yourself to be strong enough to stand against me? Against Death? Against Destiny?”

Desire forces down a gulp, their breath stuttering at the creeping wrath, “No.”

“No, indeed.” Dropping his hold, Morpheus straightens, his jaw rigid as he stalks away, adding, “Remember this next time you’re inspired to interfere in my affairs.”

And then he’s gone.

Translucent light kisses your shoulders as you stroll towards the looming stronghold, your hands buried deep in your pockets. Your fingers have turned numb from how tightly you’re clenching them. The impressive, stone-carved statues depicting the seven Endless guide your way. Well, six. You pause by Destruction, the only one facing away, unlike his siblings.

You don’t dare to stray from the path. The likelihood of finding your way out if you get lost in the maze again is non-existent.

The ruler of this sprawling, eerily silent domain greets you at the foot of the marble staircase.

“I welcome thee, Wanderer, Roamer of Realms, into my stronghold.”

Even at this distance, Destiny looms so impossibly tall, some forgotten human instinct sparks in a warning.

Undeterred, you halt before the imposing figure, bowing your head. “I greet and thank you for your welcome, Destiny of the Endless.”

Only Destiny’s lower face is visible behind his billowing hood when he speaks in a crackling rasp, “You have arrived here for a single purpose.”

No ifs or buts about it—he knows better than that, the book slotted neatly under his arm.

“And here I was, ready to ask if you’re surprised to see me,” you shoot back jokingly. Destiny does not smile or construe entertainment from your words. You sober, your attempt at levity now abandoned. “Guess we both know the answer to that. I’m here to share some theories if you have time to spare.”

To your surprise, Destiny slips past you, heading in the direction you came from, deeper into his garden. His footsteps make no sound. His cloak whispers behind him, shimmering in the dim, muted light. On equal footing, you have to crane your head to see him. The devouring dark pooling around the contours of his pallid face reveals nothing beneath the hood, even at your angle.

“You seek to ask questions for which there are scarce few answers, Wanderer,” Destiny says resolutely. “You are far older than most mortals can comprehend, yet your heart remains stubbornly mortal.”

You set out after him at once, your invisible hackles rising. “In what way? My defiance?”

Destiny does not falter, his pace remaining as steady as lapping waves. “That is not for me to judge.”

The garden is vast and a marvel to behold, but the temperature lingers on that unnatural lukewarmness that gives away how unorthodox this place is. The light is perpetually unfading, gauzy in the corners of your eyes. It’s a confusing, strangely profound place. It’s as if Destiny’s realm contains everything all at once but also nothing. A place of futures to come, lives unlived, and wilted pasts. There’s no point in attempting to unravel it. There’s only uncanny strangeness you’ve come to accept.

“You will spend time in the realm of each sibling—you will dream, despair, desire, destroy, delight and otherwise, and, eventually, die—but you were his from the very first page, and only he will read how your story comes out, a long time from now.”

Destiny doesn’t pause at your reiteration. There’s no indication he even heard you, but you’re a step behind him. A thousand years of trying to get answers have taught you he would not be entertaining you if this wasn’t heading somewhere. The thought of another scrap of information sets your heart thudding. Haven’t you spent the last two centuries piecing things together? Attempting to confirm your speculations before you came here to confront him with them. Your past attempts may have ended in uniform failure, but today is different. You can feel it.

“You told me that when we first met,” you continue, keeping your nonchalance. You’re no more than a child to him despite your millennia of existence—this is the only way to get him to take you seriously. “When I awoke in your garden, alone and terrified, with no clue as to who I was or what had happened to me. I’ve been thinking about those words ever since.”

Destiny slows, then stops altogether. Your heart climbs to your throat. You've paused by his statue, standing at the foot of polished, pale stone. Destiny’s cloak whispers when he hinges in your direction, anticipatory. He already knows what you will say.

“It was you. You’re the one who did this to me.”

The clarity that clangs through you with those words shakes your knees. Sucking down more oxygen, you add, “Not directly, maybe. I was cursed by mortal power. This much I know for certain. But you made it possible. You led me to this by the hand. Why?”

And like a dozen times you’ve tried in the past, you expect dismissal, or worse, silence with which he’s punished you often. Destiny would disappear from your sight altogether. His patience and unwillingness to give you clear answers are unmatched.

But not this time.

“Because you broke your destiny. Tore it to shreds. Painted it red.” Destiny readjusts the heavy book under his arm. “So you were allocated a new path. One of hardship and pain, but one that may lead you to salvation. Should you tread it mindfully.”

The roar in your head is so loud you barely understand Destiny’s low, equable words.

“You could have told me this a thousand years ago,” you choke out.

He remains a perfectly barren canvas, but in the tension pulsing between you, there now whispers a hint of displeasure. Sweat trickles down your nape.

“I did,” he replies flatly. “But you did not listen. You instead raged and ran, and what came of it?”

Madness and despair.

Stumbling forward, you bite out, “Why? What did I do? What could prompt eternity of this.”

All this pain for crimes you couldn’t so much as recall. Whatever it was, have you not paid back your dues? Have you not suffered enough to make up for your past?

“Forgetting is the only kindness you’ve ever been spared. Or ever will be. Treat it as such.” Cold needles your spine, and a terrible urge to fold yourself into a ball gnaws on your bones. Destiny’s pitch does not change, nor does his bearing, but it doesn’t need to. “In your quest to break, you reformed into something else.”

Your force down saliva, near choking. “Into what?”

“Challenger of the Unknown.”

Silence envelopes the garden. There’s little to no sound in the Garden of the Forking Ways to begin with, but those words blanket everything. Not even the wind seems to stir. No blade of grass moves. This means something; it means something crucial, but you have no idea what.

“What does that mean?” you beseech. Destiny doesn’t move, nor does he answer. Your voice cracks. “Please just tell me.”

But you already know it’s a lost battle. This is all too familiar—the cold, pitiless silence, utterly unmoved. He’s given you all he’s intended to.

“I used to think you hated me.” You’re not sure why you’re telling him this. Destiny won’t care. Your feet carry you past him. Briefly, you pause by Dream’s statue, then keep going. “More than anyone else in this universe. It wasn’t until Destruction left that I finally understood your position more. It is a burden to know what others don’t but be unable to speak that knowledge.”

There’s no doubt in your mind that Destiny knows where Destruction is.

The Prodigal’s statue pierces your vision, making you squint into the hazy skies above. Your following words slip out, each lilting with breezy ease: “But it doesn’t mean I’ll ever forgive you for letting Dream rot in a cage for a hundred years when you knew it was coming, when you could have warned him somehow. I know you have a duty, but he’s your brother. However, indirectly you let Dreaming decay—my home. You let humanity suffer. I figured it out, by the way, why it’s a loophole. Why my book exists in the library, but nothing in other dimensions does. Why I can sleep in the Dreaming but not anywhere else.”

Destiny stands stock still, his bony arms close to his chest, clutching his book. He displays no outward reaction as per usual. It’s a relief to voice your thoughts. You’re utterly terrified of him, but he’s right—your heart is still stubbornly human, as brazen as the Fates accused you of being.

“Because if my curse was the will of the Endless, if my path—whatever it is—is so tightly bound to your family, then it only makes sense, right?” You’re not looking for a response because Destiny will offer none. “The Dreaming is the only place where aspects of each Endless manifest. It’s a loophole. The curse goes dormant when I’m in the Dreaming because the only thing more powerful than the curse is the combined power of the seven Endless.”

You’ve waited to voice your conclusions for so long, it’s surreal to have spoken them aloud. You might fear Destiny, but not enough to continue as a coward. He can deny it, but you’re confident that’s the reason. It’s the only thing that makes sense.

“My siblings have gained much from their companionship with you, Wanderer,” Destiny admits. You quell a flinch despite Destiny’s voice retaining its monotonous quality. “But you and I are antitheses of one another. My brother would not be who he is now had he not tasted that helplessness and sorrow. You are the ink and the quilt with which Dream will write his story.”

His words make little to no sense. Dream is… Dream. What could ever influence him? Much less you. He’s changed since his imprisonment, it’s true, but doubt still nestles in your heart. Had the situation with Gault not proven how those attempts to change come undone in a blink? Despite it, Dream is trying, and it’s more than enough. Change doesn’t happen overnight; not any profound version, anyway.

You wipe across your face, schooling yourself. “I won’t stop trying to save them even if I’m punished further,” you assert. “I’ll always fight for humanity.”

Even over his hood, you feel your gazes clash, burning into one another.

“I would expect no less,” Destiny assures.

Squaring your shoulders, you’re halfway between dimensions before a thought occurs to you. “Just one more thing before I go.”

Destiny is as grave as usual, entirely inhuman in his foreboding silence while he waits.

“It can be broken, can’t it?” you say, scrutinising him closely. “The curse. There are weak spots in its design.”

“That is for you to discover,” he replies, much to your surprise. It’s closer to a yes than a no. “But pay heed. This path will not be forgiving should you wish to pursue it.”

Icy trepidation creeps its claws down your spine. You don’t permit it to show.

“Nothing in my life has been forgiving,” you say curtly. “I bid you good fortune, Destiny.”

“And I you, Roamer of Realms.”

“Happy Dreamfall.”

Slanting your head, you let your chin dig into your shoulder, smiling. You hadn’t seen the Dream Lord since you snuck back into the Dreaming, seemingly no one having noticed your momentary departure. Normally, there are someone’s eyes on you. But only Dream can sense your appearance and disappearance inside the Dreaming itself. So you’ve taken advantage of his absence. You’ve had too much on your mind since your return from visiting Destiny to seek him out yet.

“Happy Dreamfall,” you say to the Endless, who comes to a halt beside you. “May Fates smile upon you, Dream Lord. And may your realm of dreams be aplenty.”

Behind you, the castle grounds buzz with activity. At long last, things were returning to normal. This is the first cause of celebration these dreams and nightmares had in over a century. Back home, safe and in a place where they belong. You hugged and drank sweet nectars with plenty, smiling and touching hands. Or claws. But it didn’t take long to slip away and settle out here.

Perched on the castle staircase, you must make for an odd sight, but Gatekeepers straighten back into their patrol positions with Dream’s arrival. You had left the castle to enjoy the darkening skies, the dreams swelling and blinking in the pitch-black canvas, ready for their journey. The Gatekeepers had clustered close, and you had spent a while simply chatting. You’ve missed them. It had been harrowing to witness them turn to stone while Dream was missing.

“Would you walk with me?” Dream asks.

Wetting your lips, you stand. “Sure.”

Without a preamble, Dream sets out. His gait hovers on ponderous this evening. You’ve gotten used to more hurried, curt interactions between you. Invisible tension stretched tautly. Will-o'-the-wisps dance and sway through the humming evening air. Flowers in your path bloom in different colours, fairy dust sprinkled through the air. You continue on the faintly lit path cutting through the heart of the Dreaming without a word.

“Are you well?”

Dream’s sudden question shakes you from your peaceful stupor.

“Busy, but good,” you answer. “And you?”

Dream halts abruptly. You pass him, then do the same, gazing back at him, confused.

Dream Lord’s pale eyes dig into you. They steal from you, and they give more than words ever could. But this once, Dream also uses his words: “I wish for us to talk as we once did.”

Anxiety pangs through your belly. You hadn’t expected him to point it out. Your lips compress into a stiff, bloodless line. It would be a bald-faced lie to insist something hasn’t broken between you. Corinthian’s unmaking has driven a wedge between you that neither can overcome. The nightmare had to be stopped, but it doesn’t take away from the grief festering in your chest. Most believe grief is an absence, but you’ve found the exact opposite is true.

Grief is a presence that should be there but isn’t. It’s a weight of memories, of possibilities, of life unlived. Corinthian has become your phantom limb, his absence invisible to all but you as is the bleed.

“We’re getting there,” you say lastly.

His wild hair covers his eyes when his head lowers. Subconsciously, you find yourself stepping towards him, folding your hand around his. Cool and silky to the touch. A breath, and then you feel Dream’s hand curl around yours. He doesn’t move otherwise, muscles sitting in rigid mass beneath his pale skin.

“Dream,” you call his name gently. “You’re trying. I see that. We’re finding new ways. Now tell me why we’re here.”

Because this path is familiar to you as your own hands. Just over the dark treeline lays the beach. The docks you’ve visited every night in his absence. This path had been your pilgrimage once, and now he’s returned. The fingers folded around yours tighten. Dream wordlessly tugs you with him until soft sand cushions the soles of your shoes.

“It is a night where anything is possible,” he says knowingly.

Your heartbeat jumps when he leads you towards the pier, wood creaking under your combined weight. “What are you doing?”

Dream draws you both to a stop halfway across the pier, something close to mischief sparking in his gaze. It’s so bizarrely unwonted you do a doubletake.

“Giving you my present.”

With that, he strides closer. Your mouth dries when he gently curls his arm around your waist. He raises your joint hands, spinning you to the side slowly. Clumsily, your legs obey, your breaths escaping uneven gulps.

“Are we dancing, Dream Lord?”

Dream bows his head closer to yours, his voice velvet, “We are dancing in starlight, you and I.”

It’s then you feel the tingling, reverent whisper of his power over your body. Your eyes widen when you see faint light needling the sturdy fabric, as if your coat has become no more than a window into the raw cosmos. Galaxies swirl in raging spirals across the once-dark material. Your head snaps to the side while Dream continues spinning you unhurriedly. Your coat is shrinking, reshaping to fit your body even better than it did up to this point.

“Dream this is…”

The coat settles into actuality. Sparkling dust spills from the material when you shift. Your overcoat has shrunk to kiss just above your knees. More fitted but no less comfortable. And then there’s the way it glimmers like a precious jewel whenever moonlight hits it.

“I had hoped to give you something more… fitting,” Dream murmurs. You look up at him, your noses almost touching. “It is only right for the one who roams the stars to wear a coat of pure starlight.”

“Thank you,” you whisper shakily. “It’s beautiful.”

Beautiful doesn’t do it justice. The midnight material shimmers with your movement, liquid starlight captured into tangible fabric, and your throat closes up as you examine it further. Dream slips his arm from your waist. He lifts your joint hands, comfortable in his own, and lays a light kiss on your hand.

“It becomes you,” he compliments quietly, releasing you. “Now… it’s time.”

Your brows crease. “Time for what?”

Was this not it? Thick emotions still coat your tongue, lodged deep in your windpipe. But Dream only devours you with quiet intensity.

Above your head, dreams start raining down in shining beams of light.

“We begin… with a spin.”

Your heart stutters to a stop. Water roars behind Dream, wild spray flying through the air. The faint drizzle beats against your face, leaving you gaping.

“Dream. I…”

He extends his hand your way. “There is no Dreaming without Wanderer Island. Should you wish it, I would like us to create another.”

Your features crumble, the ball in your throat robbing you of your voice. Indecision holds you captive—on the one hand, you want nothing more, but on another, you’re too afraid. What if it all ends up in the same place? You watching yet another part of you sink into those inky depths.

But there’s something cautious, near vulnerable, to be found in Dream’s guarded features. It’s an effort for him to open up, but you can see the unsure way his hand hangs in offering between you. He’s bracing himself for rejection, for you to leave him alone on this pier.

You grasp his proffered hand, fingers winding cautiously around his. Dream’s shoulders slump slightly from their rigid slant, relaxing at the contact.

He guides you to an all too familiar position. You standing at the edge of the pier, him behind you, a hand on your shoulder. A disconcerting sensation of deja vu falls over you.

“Describe it to me,” he prompts.

Black, foreboding waters of the Dreaming spin in ferocious whirlpools. Dream’s elegant hand pierces your line of sight, primed for creation.

“There’s a small island.” Your voice trembles. You haven’t forgotten anything, down to the exact words used. You conjure the Wanderer Island in your mind’s eye as it once stood; brilliant and shining. The visual blooms bold and alive in your mind. “The grass that grows there is the greenest there’s ever been. And it tastes like sour apples.”

Dream’s hand on your shoulder squeezes lightly. Same amusement, even centuries later. You’re both changed, but a familiar outline of an island starts taking shape on the horizon.

“The sun that shines on the island is never too hot. The air is sweet and light. The flowers never wilt, and trees never shed leaves.” It’s pouring from your mouth now, an avalanche of memory. You’ve missed the island so dearly, and details from five centuries ago come readily. “The sky is an endless periwinkle shade. There’s always food and drinks. Books and games. And…”

Your heart bleeds, fresh wounds gushing. But you push on because it’s not about you.

“And an old friend waits at the beach to greet you with a patient smile whenever you arrive. Because not everyone has a family, and not everyone needs a lover, but everyone should have a friend. The island will be there whenever someone feels lonely, lost, or desperate for an escape. It’ll be there to welcome you. To give you a corner to hide. There is no sadness there. No loneliness or confusion. Only…”

Dream’s lips tickle over the shell of your ear. “… hope.”

And then stillness.

The water settles in a gurgling slosh. In the distance, a patch of land once again floats. There to welcome new dreamers. Wanderer Island blurs. The heel of your hand presses over your eyes, overwhelmed.

Blindly, you tug on Dream’s coat; a mute request. Between one inhale and the next, wood underfoot is exchanged for sand.

Everything is the same down to the last blade of grass and tree composition. Either your vision was so clear Dream could pluck every last detail from your mind or…

Or he remembered the Island with the same clarity as you.

You sink to your knees. Sand crumbles around your digits when you dip them into the pliable sand.

“Hi. There you are.”

Nothing, then…

Grass sprouts unprompted around your hand, tiny daisies twining across your thumb. Utterly impossible, yet tonight, here, anything is possible. A choked laugh escapes you. Your cheeks ache from your beaming smile.

“She’s missed you,” Dream reveals quietly.

Your head lifts in surprise. You stroke the miniature, perfect blooms. “I missed you too.”

With another tickle, the flowers and grass retreat, shrinking into the golden beach. Several moments pass by until you unearth the strength to stand. Dream’s profile greets you. He’s turned away, giving you privacy, but subtle uncertainty lines his features. Sensing your attention, he peers towards you, then past you.

“Thank you,” you breathe. Despite your verbal gratitude, Dream’s attention remains fixed over your shoulder. “What?”

His low words reach you over the sound of lapping waves. “Are you not going to say hello to an old friend?”

You follow his line of sight. Behind you, at a distance with falling dreams as his backdrop, stands a tall, pale-haired figure.

Everything inside you falls very, very quiet—all those tumultuous emotions freeze. Your head snaps back to Dream with a stifled gulp. It can’t be real. Surely it’s some mirage, a feedback loop, a ghost conjured from your love for the now-gone nightmare.

But Dream only slants his head in a marginal, affirming nod. You dare to peek behind you once more. There he stands. The nightmare. Not a twisted joke.

Your feet carry you towards him without conscious thought; half-running, half-walking, stumbling all the while. Corinthian stands with his hands in his pockets, his shoulders in a slight slouch. His nude-coloured slacks and white shirt shine like beacons in the pale moonlight. Round shades cover his eyes, his blonde strands fluttering in the light breeze.

He's a figment. Not quite tangible until your body crashes into him, your arms scrambling to hold onto him. “Oh, God!”

Dry, humoured, “Not quite.”

Your heart is pounding so loudly you’re sure he can feel it, if not hear it. A pained, whining sound bubbles up in your throat, gripping him closer.

“I… how…” You wrench yourself back, a horrible thought occurring. You search his handsome features. That infuriating smirk always curling his mouth is absent. “Do you remember me?”

Corinthian stands there, not moving, with no real emotion on display, either. Your heart sinks. Could it be that he—

Dull throb flares across your forehead. He’s flicked you—

A wide, toothy grin stretches across Corinthian’s mouth. “Gotcha.”

With a choked laugh, you punch his shoulder, hugging him close with a wide smile. “I hate you.”

A pleased hum. This time, the nightmare’s arm settles around you. “Hate you more.”

You’re not sure how long you both stand there. When you do part, reluctance keeps your hand on him. Fingertips connecting to some part of him. Remembering the Dream Lord you came here with—who gave you this, his present—you find Dream no longer on the beach. Or anywhere in sight. He’s given you privacy and time. Your heart softens further.

“Does this mean I’m forgiven?”

Corinthian’s subdued question tugs your attention back towards him. You almost wish he didn’t remind you. Because now you’re faced with the reality that even though he’s been returned to you, there’s much you both need to overcome and fix. That losing him did not magically wipe away the wrongs he’s done. If you hope to return to the relationship you once had, you’ll need time.

You consider him for a moment.

“You’re always forgiven,” you tell him honestly.

Standing in the moonglow, you pretend you don’t notice how something coiled tightly seems to loosen inside him at your reassurance. Instead, you reach for his face. Your fingertips brush over Corinthain’s glasses, and his hand snap out, wrapping around your wrist tightly. Bones making up his jaw roll beneath the skin. Tension throbs between you while seconds tick by. Through clenched teeth, Corinthian unwraps his hold finger by finger.

You tug his shades away from his face. He’s tense as a bowstring, his head slanted at an angle. The same jagged teeth sit where most have eyeballs. They’re hooded, though. His discomfort—and anger at said discomfort—couldn’t be more perspicuous.

His shades close as you fold arm temples one at a time. You hold his stare, staring right at those jagged teeth with a slight frown. You extend his shades back to him mutely.

“But my trust is something you will have to earn back,” you state earnestly.

The nightmare hesitates halfway to reaching for his glasses. Those pale fingers dance over them before he plucks them from you.

“Sounds like a fair deal,” he muses absently. You expect him to put the shades back on, but instead, Corinthian hooks them on his shirt pocket. Turning to go, he calls out a honeyed, “You coming?”

He gazes at you over his shoulder, jagged teeth on full show, and you feel yourself smile.

“Always.”

Sun shines luminous and warm today. The Wanderer Island stretches as far as your eye can perceive, teeming with life and greenery around every corner. Flowers and trees bloom everywhere—an awe-inspiring marriage between tropical and temperate climates. The Island once again oozes a sense of magick and wonder that was once so prominent here. No place in the universe can compare.

“Rebuilding is almost complete,” you begin conversationally. “The Dreaming is more beautiful than ever.”

The Endless keeps pace beside you, a pensive sound rumbling from him. “It was not without aid.”

A smile twitches your lips upwards. “You’re welcome.”

Two weeks have gone by since Dreamfall. Things have mended—between you individually and the atmosphere around the Dreaming. While Corinthian’s return was met with some side glances, no one discussed it further. Dreamfolk trust Dream to make the right decision. Or perhaps Gault was right; they’re wiser than to outright question.

“The Corinthian has also been making progress,” Dream says. “I am hoping to place him under supervision and monitor his conduct. To make sure what happened is never repeated. Should the need arise, he will be allocated duties back in the waking world.”

Joy flutters in your heart. “Yeah? That’s great. Someone you trust, I assume?”

“Yes.”

“And?” you probe. “Are you going to tell me who or not?”

In your peripheral, Dream inclines in your direction. “Yours.”

You nearly trip. “Dream, I—” You clear your throat, pausing. “Are you sure? It didn’t exactly work out last time.”

Dream’s intent scrutiny slides over your facial features. “It was due to no fault of yours. And this Corinthian is the same in all but one function. He will not fail again. He has a different purpose now.”

There’s a solemn sort of finality about the way he articulates those words. A tiny shiver skitters down your spine. He will not expand further upon those words. Whatever that purpose is, you imagine time will reveal it.

You chew on your inner cheek. “Okay. I would like that.”

You smile at him. But Dream’s expression stutters, overcome by some foreign emotion. His mouth parts, then closes, his fingers folding into white-knuckled fists.

Just as you’re about to ask what’s wrong, Dream speaks: “Wanderer. Stay.”

You muster up an uncertain, perplexed smile. “I’m right here.”

Dream marches closer, sunshine caught in his onyx hair.

“Stay however long you want,” he insists softly. “Stay forever if it should so please you.”

Shock envelops you, freezing you in your spot. You’ve told him, didn’t you? That you would stay forever by his side if only he asked. Now he’s asking. Except confusion and unease battle in your chest. Can you trust his word? Did Dream change enough? He brought back Corinthian. He freed Gault from the Darkness. He insists this is a new age. But…

“And if I wanted to leave?” you question. “If I chose never to return, what then?”

“It would sadden my creations—”

“I’m asking you.”

Dream falters, shackled by your insistence. His lashes flutter, his head lowering in near palpable struggle. You’re challenging him, but you refuse to continue with the charade. If he wants forever, you can’t live with the fear he might change his mind about it.

“It would pain me, also. A great deal.” He hesitates again, and it’s bizarre because this degree of uncertainty is not something you associate Dream with. “But you are free. You've always been free. The Dreaming is your home. Should you wish to return, its gates will always await you.”

Doubt twists your mouth downwards. “I thought that once—”

“I swear it. No matter what the future may hold. No matter how angry I get, I shall never again take the Dreaming away from you.” Sheer power woven into those words leaves no room for doubt. It’s a vow. He will not break it. There would be a price to pay if he did. Dream’s fingertips ghost over yours, a graze leaving fire in its wake. “I read your book in the library. I did not wish to tell you sooner because I worried you would leave. Because… you were right. I could never understand the sheer devastation. Or the harm I inflicted.”

You drag your hand back, stepping away from him. Dream’s features fall subtly. You face away, giving him your back while you process. Raising the hand he was caressing seconds prior, you cradle it to your chest. Sunshine prickles your cheek, but you ignore it.

“I’m not ashamed of my past,” you tell him, turning back to face him. “I always knew there was a chance you could read it. So, what did you think?”

He appears pained. At least now you know why he’s been so melancholy these last several weeks. “That I should wish for nothing more than for you to stay by my side.”

Those unadorned words devastated you.

Smiling through your inflated, overjoyed heart, you mumble, “Stay forever… I can’t technically do that.”

But Dream is unruffled. If anything, you glimpse the beginnings of hope starting to take root in him.

“I’ll seek a way,” he avows.

“To what?” An incredulous chuckle escapes you. “Break the curse?”

Destiny’s warning jump back to the forefront of your mind, and you swallow thickly. You don’t dare to ponder freedom for longer than an indulgent moment.

“Yes,” Dream replies.

You stare at him. Tall and dark, sunlit and more open than you’ve ever seen him. Determined and golden. Your Dream Lord. He terrifies you. You love him.

“You can’t interfere,” you remind him emptily. “And I might die.”

“Or you may live,” Dream argues. “Freely. And choose for yourself. Always.”

“Trying to bait me, Dream Lord?”

Sudden tension between you loosens around the edges. Once more, the susurration of the trees trickles into your mind, elevating the brewing anxiety.

A thousand years. The curse has defined your existence and has kept you alive this long. What are you without it? There’s always been an unspoken acknowledgement that you could never break the curse without dying. Simply too much time has passed. No mortal vessel can survive over a millennium otherwise. When you asked Destiny, it was only to understand more about the nature of the curse. Not because you ever assumed you could survive breaking the curse.

Dream’s mouth compresses as if he’s attempting not to smile. “I would never.”

“Stay by your side, huh?” you mutter, looking away while you mull over your conversation. “And what exactly would that entail?”

His response is immediate, smooth, “Whatever you wish.”

“A companion, then?” Your words pitch lower and silkier while you close the minimal distance with relaxed, unhurried steps. Dream’s eyes darken a shade. “An emissary? A consort? A queen?”

His black-clad shoulders lift with his inhale.

“Those are but words,” he murmurs silkily. “For you would be all those things, and more.”

You examine his profile, those starlit irises, the doubt swimming there. Does he doubt you would stay? After such long years harbouring this affection for him? Silly, wonderful anthropomorphic personification. “I’ll stay, but only if you answer a question.”

“Even if the price were a hundred thousand questions, Wanderer, I would pay it gladly. What is this question?”

Narrowing your eyes, you scrutinise him. Dream does not balk under your exigent examination, waiting patiently. Biting back a smile, you permit your features to relax. He’s unfairly fun to tease.

“What does the Lord of Dreams dream about?”

Relish bubbles in your chest at the way Dream’s expression comes undone. As if from a thousand questions he was bracing for, nothing could have prepared him for this. Birds chirp a merry tune somewhere in the tree line, a warm breeze ruffling Dream’s dark hair while he gazes at you with utterly confused wonderment. A slight, fond smile curls his lips.

“A thousand years,” he begins in a bewildered drawl. “And still, you ask the same question.”

You laugh faintly, shrugging. “Well, in all fairness, you never answered me the last time. Which was very rude, by the way—”

In an inhale Dream of the Endless materialises in front of you. His hands slip to hold your face, cupping it with delicate hands as he tugs you closer. His kiss falls over you like stars. Silky, gentle warmth that washes over you with such fervent passion you gasp against his mouth. Your hands grasp onto him blindly. You part only long enough for you to gulp down oxygen before your mouths meet again, and again, and again, burning with need unquenched. Heat spreads through every inch of you. A thousand years being cold, floating unearthed, but now someone is holding you.

Dream presses another kiss to your mouth, desperate and hungry, gentle in his handling, and you return it with equal enthusiasm, equal need. Dizziness envelops you, and Dream pulls back, his forehead resting against yours. You shudder, a delicious heat licking up your senses. This closeness hurts better than anything ever has. You remind yourself to breathe, to remember this is real, he’s here, holding you, and nothing matters in this moment. Whatever the future holds, you do not fear it. Because Hob was right: there are people out there who love, and that makes all the difference.

Dream’s thumb grazes over your bunched-up cheek. Your smile is wide enough to light your entire face.

It continues with a gentle, rasping: “I’ll tell you one day, stardust.”

an:

Never apologise, never explain.

I set out to write nothing more than a fun little story that I expected to have maybe 3-4 parts max. Something entirely self-indulgent and fun for no one but me and maybe one or two mutuals. I never quite expected it would become as beloved as it did. I suppose here, in the end, I would like to take the time to thank everyone who read this and supported it. Be it by commenting, making edits/art for it or just sending me encouraging/funny messages. You guys are the reason this story became what it did. I'm immensely grateful for each and every single one of you. It was a rough month, but I'm glad I could offer you this conclusion at long last. Thank you for being here, thank you for being kind, and thank you again for reading.

Goodnight, and see you all in dreams, wanderers ☾ ⋆･ﾟ:⋆･ﾟ

#the sandman #dream of the endless #dream x reader #morpheus x reader #sandman x reader #the sandman netflix #sandman imagine #morpheus imagines #morpheus x fem!reader #dream x fem!reader #sandman fic #fanfiction #sandman netflix #sandman neil gaiman #morpheus fic #dream fic #tom sturridge #fic: today i bury you in me

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theladybarnes · 2 months

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CRIMSON AND CLOVER: CHAPTER EIGHT

“I told you, I'm fine. Okay? I mean, as fine as someone who's hurtling towards a gruesome death can be.”

▸ summary: the group splits off again and a breaking theory comes your way ▸ characters: steve harrington, dustin henderson, max mayfield, robin buckley, nancy wheeler, & lucas sinclair ▸ word count: 12.7k ▸ warnings: angst, fluff, mentions of death, slight canon divergence, & trauma ▸ series masterlist

“It was here..right here!”

“A grandfather clock?”

“It was so real.”

You watched carefully from the back of the group as Max explained what happened once she had snapped out of her brief frozen state. Time had not ran out and it was only a few seconds into your panicking that she gasped before you guys, waking up.

“..And then, when I got closer, suddenly I just..I woke up.”

“It was like she was in a trance or something.” Dustin chimed in, looking over to the rest of you. “Exactly what you and Eddie said happened to Chrissy.”

You met his gaze with a small nod, unsure what to think next. Chrissy never woke up to the sound of you and Eddie calling out to her. And while Max didn’t either, she still snapped out of it.

Turning around to the group, Max couldn’t help but dive into more information. “That’s not even the bad part.” she started before she led all of you back to Ms.Kelley’s office. Surrounding the stack of files, she shared a couple between Robin and Nancy, setting up the base of what you guys gathered.

“Fred and Chrissy, they both came to Ms.Kelley for help..they both were having headaches, bad headaches that just wouldn’t go away. And then..then the nightmares..trouble sleeping. They’d wake up in a cold sweat. Then they started seeing things..bad things..from their pasts. In these visions, they just, they kept on getting worse and worse, until eventually..everything ended.”

“Vecna’s curse.” Robin clarified.

Curse. You thought.

Stomach churning at the idea of not only yourself being cursed, but Max too. How could she be hit with any more hardship than she already has? Even as she had explained everything as perfectly as she could, there was still a heavy terror in her voice. One that hit you harder than you expected.

But what could you do? How could you be of any help when you were going through the same afflictions that her and the others have? The only difference in the patterns were the visions. Instead, you were tormented by a voice. A dreadful voice that seemed to know all your insecurities and dump them into your mind at the worst times.

You glanced around at your friends, their faces etched with sad, sombering looks as they listened to what Max had to say.

“There’s still time to figure things out,” you said, speaking up finally. “No one is giving up just yet.”

Max slowly shook her head. Her bright eyes still lingered with a few unshed tears as she tried to reason with you.

“Chrissy’s headache started a week ago, Fred’s, six days ago. I’ve been having them for five days.”

Your heart dropped at that, unsure what you could even say to help make things better for her. But to your dismay, she went on. Even through her own body betraying her regular strength, she couldn’t help but crumble at her conclusion.

“I don’t know how long I have. All I know is that, for Fred and Chrissy, they both died less than twenty-four hours after their first vision. And I just saw that goddamn clock!..So..” her breath was shaky as she stepped towards the desk. Gripping at the chair while she looked at everyone. “..it looks like I’m gonna die tomorrow.”

There’s a loud clang in the distance. Causing the group to jump a bit and pause the conversation. Steve doesn’t hesitate to step up, turning to the others with a frown on his face. “Stay here.” he ordered calmly, and turned to leave the room. But not without grabbing a nearby lamp to use as a weapon.

It took only a couple of seconds of him leaving the room before you quietly muttered to the others. “Yeah, screw that.”

Trailing after him, you made sure to check the hall behind you guys before following in close after him. Without having to look back, you could hear as the others quietly did the same. Sticking close behind Steve as well as he ventured out to the source of the noise.

Steve barely glanced over his shoulder and noticed you all before he sighed disappointedly. “You gotta be kidding me.” he muttered to you.

“Like you aren’t used to us not listening.” you whispered back. “Besides, you’re using a damn lamp. It’s not like you’re ready to fight either.”

“It’s the best thing I got!” he hissed, trying to keep quiet. The sound of clattering stirred up again, shutting you both up.

In the distance you could hear the sound of feet running begin to pick up, creating an anxious chill to run down your back.

All around the rest of the group grew tense, waiting behind to see what would be coming into the view. Steve raised up the lamp, ready to take his aim on the target when suddenly a familiar face jumped into the hall.

Steve and Lucas began to yell once coming to head with each other, causing everyone to let out a panicked cry as they staggered back.

“IT’S ME!” Lucas cried out, holding his hands out before him defensively.

“Lucas?!” Nancy called out, flashing another light on his face.

“It’s me!” he cried again.

“JESUS, WHAT’S WRONG WITH YOU SINCLAIR?” Steve yelled, looking flushed as the panic came over him.

“I’m sorry!”

“I could’ve taken you out with this lamp!” he chided dramatically. You reached over for his arm and pulled him away from Lucas to rest back and give the kid some obvious air since he was panting particularly hard.

“Easy there, he-man.” you patted his arm, earning yourself an annoyed look from him.

“I’m sorry, guys, sorry! I was..I was biking for eight miles.” he held up a finger, holding onto the front of his gut. “Give me a second, shit.” he said before remembering what he really wanted to say. “We’ve got a code red!”

“What?” Steve asked, confused all over again.

“Dustin,” He said as he staggered over to your cousin, still panting as he laid out more crap for the group to worry about now. “I’ve been with Jason, Patrick, and Andy, and they’ve gone like totally off the rails! They’re trying to capture Eddie, and they think you know where he is. You’re in terrible danger!”

Dustin, while taken back by this, still can’t help but keep the main problem at focus. “All right, Yeah, that definitely sucks.” he agreed. “But we’ve got bigger problems than Jason right now.”

You could only watch as Lucas slowly glanced over at Max. The two locked eyes and you could just see the pain in Max’s face. Without even realizing it, you’ve instinctively reached out for Steve’s hand. And thankfully, he doesn’t say anything but squeeze back.

“We wouldn’t be able to access the program for it here. The family computer isn’t exactly gonna cut it.” sighed Nancy, downing the rest of her water. “Besides, I’m not even sure how to write up the kind of files we’d need to pass as real.”

“There’s always a chance the library could have some examples.” you threw out, leaning against the counter to look at the two girls. “If we head there early enough, we could be the first ones in, type it out, and get it done by early morning.”

“We can try that, but there’s always a chance it might not work. Hawkins doesn’t really have the newest resources. Even today we had to dig pretty deep to find the newspaper headlines.” Robin countered, crossing her arms as she stood beside you.

The three of you had been in the kitchen for a good few minutes discussing what you guys could do.

After leaving the school, it was pretty easy to just collect everyone and keep watch of each other in the safety of the Wheeler basement. Especially with Max’s countdown recently coming into light to hang over the rest of you.

“Well,” Nancy piped up, “there was a rumor I heard at school..” You and Robin shared a confused look before nodding at her to continue.

“Jordan Wallis. He’s in the A.V. Club. They said his older brother Nick used to help create fake IDs and permits for a certain price..”

“Wasn’t his brother also sent to a Military school for getting caught?” Robin asked, looking a little skeptical.

“He was.” she nodded, scrunching her nose at the fact. “But, I’ve heard that Jordan and a few of his buddies have taken on the family business. They might know a thing or two about forging documents. Some of them are in the newspaper so I might have a way in if we need to talk to him.”

The three of you mulled it over for a minute. Contemplating how much this idea could work.

Nancy let out a long sigh, sounding tired as she set down the cup in the kitchen sink. “It’s a long shot in the dark, but–”

“It’s the best we got.” you finished for her, watching as she nodded her head. “I say we do it.”

Robin silently agreed with a shrug, looking over to Nancy. “Do you think you can reach them in time tonight?” she asked, scratching nervously at her cheek. “We’d have to leave first thing in the morning.”

She turned her watch over, noting the time before she offered a tight lip smile. “It’s not too late. I can make a couple of calls.”

“Then let’s get to it.”

Robin left the two of you to join the others downstairs, possibly giving Steve some sort of relief from ‘babysitting’ while you and Nancy ventured up her stairs. It was easier to conceal the type of phone calls you guys were making from her parents in the privacy of the room. And after about ten minutes, three different conversations, and one sweet minute of pleading, there was a plan made to get the files.

You waited until everything was set and ready for the next day to ask Nancy if you could use her phone for a moment alone. She seemed a little worried, but gave a small smile and quietly left the room.

Reaching for her phone, you stared down at the receiver, wondering what was suddenly coming over you as you pressed in the familiar number. A glance at your watch and you were thankful for once for the time difference.

“The number you are trying to reach is unavailable. Please try again at a later time.”

Frowning, you tried dialing it again.

“The number you are trying to reach is un–”

Ending the call, you tried to figure out just what could be holding the line. Since reaching Jonathan seemed out of play, you dialed the next person you needed to speak to.

It only took one ring for her to pick it up.

“Hello?”

“Mom?”

“Oh, Duckie!” your mother gasped. “I was hoping I’d hear from you soon!”

The sudden joy in your Mother’s voice brought a blooming happiness over you. It had been a couple of weeks since you had the chance to properly speak with her, and hearing her chirpy tone now felt like just what you needed.

“I’m sorry, Mom. I didn’t mean to keep you waiting for so long..”

“I would wait forever if it meant to get a call from you.” she cooed teasingly. “How are you, Duckie? Are you guys finally on Spring Break?”

“Yeah, just started on Friday. Are you and Dad at the beach house?”

“Yes! We just arrived the other night. We’re definitely missing you here. The Johnsons brought their little Dune Buggy that you liked to ride on the shore line.”

The memories of spending breaks over at the seaside home came flooding in. If you were living there now you’d find yourself spending the evening with your parents getting ready for a lush dinner. Not currently dwelling over what you were going to do to save a friend from the fate that you might very much fall into as well.

“Duckie?”

“Sorry,” you coughed, feeling your throat tighten up from your thoughts. “I’m just out of it today. Kinda tired.”

“Well it’s a good thing you’re on break! You’ll get to go out with your friends, have fun date nights with Steve–By the way! How is he? It’s been so long since you’ve told us about you guys. We’ve got that picture of you two from his graduation in the drawing room. It’s too cute!”

Instantly you’re covering your face up. Not sure how you could even dive into explaining everything that was going on with Steve. Especially when right at this moment, you’re pretty sure you’re the last person whom he’d want talking about how well he is.

“Oh, uh, Steve’s fine.” you stuttered a bit. “He’s just been working really hard.”

“Hopefully not too hard. I know how much you two are in love~ Must be going crazy with seeing each other all the time..” she teased, nearly making you groan out in pain.

“Yeah, we’re..inseparable.” Balling your hand up in a fist, you lightly punched at your thigh, trying to keep it together. "How are you and Dad doing?"

"We're doing just fine," she sighed, her answer comforting you a little. "Your father's been trying to cut back hours in the firm, he wants to get some vacation time.. I’ve just finished designing a showroom for Margaret Chandler. She’s redone her whole home since her daughter graduated. But, mostly, we miss you. It's not the same without you around."

You swallowed hard, trying to push down the surge of emotions threatening to overwhelm you at the endearing words you’ve been needing to hear lately. "I miss you too, Mom. It’s kind of late here..um, I’ll try to call again soon, okay?”

“Okay, Duckie. Don’t wait too long this time. I wanna hear all that you’re up to, okay?”

“Yeah.” you managed to choke out. “I love you..so much.”

She let out a light laugh, possibly thinking you’re in a loving mood tonight. “I love you too! Talk to you soon.”

You waited until the line disconnected before slowly putting the phone back down. The silence of the room suddenly became so overwhelming.

Covering your face, you tried to control your breathing, reminding yourself to calm down before you went and join the others. But the tears still welled up in your eyes and your vision blurred.

Would that be your last conversation with your Mother? Should you attempt to reach Jonathan again? What protocols would one have to follow when dealing with a curse?

There was a dip on the bed next to you and suddenly you were being engulfed into a pair of arms. They were so warm, so familiar, you don’t even have to open your eyes as you pushed your way into his chest.

“It’s okay,” Steve whispered as his hands rubbed at your back. “You’re okay.”

You don’t cry as much as you’d like to. Not when you knew you had to be around the others in just a few moments. But you allow the escape of Steve’s hug to give you a few moments of peace until you were pulling back.

“I’m sorry.” you sniffled. “I just..I just...”

The words died right off your tongue and you watched as he merely brought a hand up. Rubbing the pad of his thumb across the tears that stained your cheeks. His warm eyes looked over your face as he slowly shook his head. “You don’t have to explain yourself, baby. I just wanna be here for you.”

His words nearly made you break down all over again and you can’t help but push your face back into his chest once more. Resting against his pecs while listening to the sounds of his comforting heartbeat. He placed his head gently on top of yours, simply holding you close while you took the chance to calm down.

The interaction between the two of you was very much the opposite of what you guys had just a couple of hours ago. When you both tried ways to jab at each other. But to your dismay, like all other fights, Steve would always come to comfort you when you felt you least deserved it.

“Hey do you think you guys can go–”

The sudden voice of Robin booming into the doorway caused you both to pull back from each other. Her blue eyes went wide at the sight of you two before slowly turning into a small grin. “Am I interrupting anything?” she asked teasingly, until she noticed the leftover tears in your eyes. “Shit, am I?”

“Robin,” Steve sighed, letting go of you so he could get up from the bed. He stepped towards the door and closed it enough that it was only him that Robin could see. Giving you the chance to fix yourself up. “What were you gonna ask us?”

“Sorry,” she chuckled nervously. “Do you think you guys could maybe get us some pizza? We’re all kinda starved and don’t wanna bother Mrs. Wheeler or anything.”

“Oh, I’m not sure that’s a good thing right now..” Steve said, most likely thinking you needed a minute. But the idea of stepping out for a moment sounded a lot more pleasing when you really thought it over. “Maybe we could just-”

“We can go get it.” you said softly.

The two peeked turned at your voice, watching as you got off the bed, wiped your cheeks and made your way to the door. You reached around Steve to open it up again, allowing Robin to get a better look of you again.

“Are you sure?” she asked, moving to place a hand on your shoulder. “If you guys need a second it’ll be fine. I can try and heat us some frozen waffles or something.”

“It’s fine, Robs.” you reassured her, attempting to shoot her a small smile. “We can go.” Turning to glance at Steve, you give him a hopeful look. “If you’re up for it?”

His eyes were skeptical as he took in your question. Most likely because he probably didn’t believe your sudden change in demeanor from moments ago on the bed. But to your surprise, he’s not against it and slowly nodded his head. “Let’s go.”

As Steve drove down the winding path toward town, the tension in the car was slightly nerve wracking.

Quietly you sat beside him, trying to keep your composure together. Not wanting to go back to how you were not five minutes ago in Nancy’s room. But there’s no denying what was bound to happen. The moment Steve came into the room and overheard you, you knew what he was going to ask. If not now, then eventually.

The problem was, were you willing to tell him the truth?

From just a glance you could see as his eyes focused on the road ahead. Jaw clenched and lips pursed in a tight line. He was most likely running ideas about how to approach this with you. Not that you had any clue on how he could. It made the guilt return back quickly.

The whole fight earlier felt petty now.

Max was now closer to falling into Vecna’s curse, and there was a possibility that you might be next. How could you even care about stupid things like exes and kisses? Not that he was aware of the severity. All he knew was that his ex girlfriend was acting out of normal for a couple of weeks now. But in reality, you were far into this web of problems that you weren’t sure you had it in you to trap him in it with you.

How could you drag him in when you weren’t sure how to get out?

Carefully, he veered off the main road into the quiet woods, just outside of the main parts of town. You could feel your heartbeat quicken. How many times could you lie to Steve and tell him you were okay? Would he easily see through your lie again and call out the bullshit? There was no way he could attempt to unravel the myriad of problems surrounding you.

But like always, despite all your best efforts to push him away, he just came back with a force.

The car came to a slow stop and he turned off the engine. Cutting off the only noise left between the two of you. Outside the chilly spring night brought a blue hue over the woods. It was the same way it looked the other night when you were left to find your way back home.

You must have been shivering at the memory because suddenly Steve was slipping off his jacket and placing it over you. His eyes stayed focused on making sure you were covered up before he leaned back in his seat with a sigh. The smell of his cologne still lingered over his jacket and you can’t help but allow the heat of the fabric to comfort you briefly, giving you a small relief before you cleared your throat to speak up finally.

“So,” you said lamely, pointing out towards the field. “Chilly night isn’t it?”

He stared quietly, raising a brow at you like he was expecting some sort of breakdown.

“I, for one, think that it is too cold for Spring. Back home, Spring nights felt crisp but still nice enough for a walk.”

"So you’re just gonna act like what happened in Nancy’s room didn’t happen?" he frowned, his voice laced with worry.

You shook your head, trying not to dive into that as you plastered on a smile, hoping it would be enough to deflect his concern. "Nothing happened. That was just me being homesick.."

“Homesick? You’re kidding me..”

“It’s the truth! I haven’t been away from home in so long. It’s complicated. Not to mention, it’s been a long day and I’m a little tired.”

He scoffed lightly, his hand reaching out to grip onto the wheel tightly. "Bullshit, Trouble. You look like you haven't slept in days, you’re crying after a phone call home, you were just in an accident the same night you saw a girl die from some curse. When are you going to finally be honest with me, here?”

“I’m fine.” you replied, voice a little too forced. "Just... worried about Max too, you know? With everything that's been happening. It’s a lot.”

Steve's brow furrowed, his gaze lingering for a moment too long. He could always see right through you. Always sensing when something was off. It was both a blessing and a curse, especially now when you were desperately trying to keep your own secret buried.

"Look, we’re all worried, but I know there’s more. You're not just worried about Max, are you?" His voice was soft, though laced with a hint of hurt.

You swallowed hard, your throat suddenly dry as you tried to ignore the guilt coming back in your stomach again. "What do you mean?"

"It’s him too?" has asked carefully, his eyes never leaving yours. "You’re worried about Eddie too. I mean..that kiss..”

“Well, I am worried he might get attacked by a mob of evangelicals. But that kiss, it was just..it was nothing.” you said quickly, “He does it all the time. It’s more so to annoy me than to mean anything else.”

“That’s not what it looked like to me.” he mumbled, glancing out the window.

A lump formed in your throat. Trying to push out any sort of excuse that could ease him of the hurt he had over what transpired earlier. All this time, Eddie was the only thing that helped distract you from Steve. He didn’t care about making anything deep, and neither did you. It was perfect.

But now Steve was here, and he was trying to help you, and all you could think was to apologize for making things worse.

"I'm sorry, Steve," you whispered, reaching out to gently place a hand on his arm. "I want to say that it’s nothing, because it is nothing to me. I’m not even thinking about that. Right now I just want to work on making sure Max is okay."

“There’s more you’re not telling me.”

“I‘ve said all that I need to say—“

"No, nope. I’m not letting you avoid this," Steve said firmly, turning to face his body towards you. "We don’t lie to each other, okay? Even when you’re mad you always eventually tell me what’s wrong. But now? You’re just..”

“I’m just trying to keep focus, Steve.”

He quickly shook his head, frowning now. “You can't keep shutting me out, pretending like everything's okay when it's clearly not. I'm not going to stand by and watch you keep whatever it is that’s eating you up inside! I’ve made that mistake before and I won’t do it again.”

You wanted to protest, to tell him it wasn’t anything he should be concerned over, but the words caught in your throat. How else could you fail in keeping him safe when even keeping him out of the loop caused him to feel this hurt?

But before you could think of anything to say to him, his voice softened, his eyes searching yours as if the answers were right there. "I just want to help you, honey..I lo— I care about you, And it's killing me to see you like this. I made a promise to you a long time ago and all I do is keep breaking it.”

“Promise?” you whispered, leaning in close to him. “What promise?”

He reached out to cup the side of your face. Warming your cheek with the palm of his hand as he came in to rest his forehead against yours. “Last summer. Back in my room, I said no one was ever going to hurt you again. Because no one was going to look out for you better than me.” he whispered back. You stayed quiet, trying to take in those words again. Steve nervously licked over his lips, scared to push the limit of the conversation. “Do you remember why?”

The memory hit you instantly. The way you two looked over each other, trying to make sense of all the pain and suffering you both endured after Billy and being captured by the Russians. You never wanted to see Steve hurt again. You still don’t. His words, however, came back to your mind and you found your eyes slightly prickling with tears.

“..because I’m your girl.”

“That’s right.” he sighed, “You’re my girl..”

Without saying anything, he pulled you into his arms. Holding you so tightly, as if his arms could shield you from the world and all the doom that wanted to make its way in. And truthfully, in that moment, it really felt like they could.

“Can we just..forget about everything? Just for right now?” you asked, keeping your face pressed into his chest. “I don’t want to talk or think about breakups, exes, fighting, or curses. I just..want this right now. Just us.”

“Yeah,” he agreed, pulling back so he could hold your face in his hands. “We can do that.”

There’s a little disappointment in his eyes. Probably from the lack of progress in the conversation. But you’re grateful for the pause. Needing to be selfish just once more with Steve, and focus on the kindness and sincerity of his words that made the ache in your chest lighter.

“Can you say it again?” you asked, leaning close to his face. The faint brush of his breath flushed over your skin and you reached out to place a hand over his chest. Basking in his closeness to you.

A small, pleased sort of smile, pulled at his lips as he nodded his head slowly. He reached out to push a hair away from your face before he finally spoke again.

“You’re my girl.” A kiss to your forehead.

“You’re my girl.” A kiss to your cheek.

He took his time leaning down, only brushing his lips briefly over yours, affectionately. “My girl.” he breathed before he sealed the moment with one last kiss.

The night thankfully didn’t result in more crying. After the two of you allowed yourselves just a little bit of time to just forget everything, you remembered that you had a whole group of people to feed. Some who were kind enough not to point out how long it took for you guys to receive the food.

Eventually the full bellies led for some to go in and out of falling asleep. You took the chance of having a quieter basement go over everything. Sleep, as much as it called to you, did not sound like a good idea. Not when every night now it’s led to another nightmare.

You managed to keep yourself busy, going over all the files again as well as taking in the new information about this Victor Creel guy. Now and then you’d peek over and watch Max over at the desk. She had grown quiet after eating, only asking Nancy for a pen, paper, and envelopes before settling into the back of the room.

It was hard not to want to pester her with worrisome questions. You knew better than to poke her with that kind of approach. But it didn’t help ease you at all. Not when you knew she was probably scared out of her mind.

Eventually the night passed and it wasn’t until morning came that Nancy and Robin left to go try and reach one of the boys who Nancy had called the night before. You offered to join them but they pressed for you to stay back when they noticed your tiredness. It was decided you’d stay back and attempt a bit of a nap.

After a brief hour or two spent up in Nancy’s quiet room, you made your way down to the basement again after downing two pain relief pills. The dreaded headache only turned worse after the reveal of symptoms. But now you were up again and seeking out the company of the others.

You had just sat down beside Dustin, relaxing against the cushion when the other two boys decided to venture into the small pile of information left for them to read over again. It wasn’t until Steve’s grumbling that you peeked an eye open to look over at them.

“Okay, be honest. Uh, you guys understand any of this?”

“No.” Lucas sighed defeatedly.

“Pretty straightforward.”

“Pretty much all of it.”

You and Dustin looked over at each other approvingly before casting a glance over at Steve who was frowning over at the two of you now.

“Oh, straightforward, really?” Steve asked, perplexed, eyes shifting between the two of you.

“Well, what’s confusing to you?” Dustin sighed, tiredly. “So far, everyone Vecna cursed has died, except for this old Victor Creel dude Nancy found. He’s the only known survivor. If anyone knows how to beat this curse, it’s him.”

“Exactly,” you chimed in. “Which is why he’s our best lead on this.”

“Yeah, that’s assuming he was cursed, Hendersons, which we don’t even know.” Steve muttered, a hard frown on his face. “God, How can Vecna have existed in the fifties? It doesn’t make sense.”

“As far as we know, Eleven didn’t create the Upside Down. She opened a gate to it.”

“Jonathan and I asked Will about this before, he mentioned that the Upside Down looked sort of out of time. Like everything was aged. But that was only from the area surrounding his house, not sure about the whole town..” you said, trying to remember if Nancy had ever mentioned anything. Dustin seemed to agree with your direction, snapping a finger at you.

“The Upside Down has probably been around for thousands of years. Millions. I wouldn’t be surprised if it predated the dinosaurs.”

Steve couldn’t help but grow even more frustrated at that. Waving his arms over in a crossing motion. “Dinosaurs? What are we–”

“Okay! Okay!” Lucas intervened. “But if a gate didn’t exist in the fifties, how did Vecna get through?”

“Oh! And how’s he getting through now?” Steve threw in, pointing to Lucas.

“And why now?”

“And why then? Just pops out in the fifties, kills one family, and he's like, ‘Yeah, I’m good!’ and poof, he just disappears. Just..gone?” You watched carefully as Steve put together his own idea, waving his fingers in the air dramatically. “Then only to return thirty years later and start killing some random teens? No, I don’t buy it.”

He glared down at the newspaper again before starting up again. “Straight forward my ass.” he mumbled, turning to go over to his seat. “You know what? Honestly, Hendersons, a little humility now and then, it wouldn’t hurt you guys.”

Dustin is quick to apologize. Muttering out a ‘sorry’ while he allowed Steve the small win.

The man looked over at you next, raising a brow questionably, but all you could do is chuckle at his reaction. Holding your hands up defeatedly before settling back into a resting position. With a flick to the paper and cross of his legs, Steve finally seemed to relax again.

It was only a few more seconds of silence before Dustin changed the subject.

“Any idea what she’s writing?” The four of you slowly diverted your attention to the girl in the back. She was still quiet, working at the desk like she did late into the night. “Did she sleep?”

“No,” you answered softly, trying not to speak so loud and clue her in on your guys' tactless conversation about her.

“I mean, would you?” Lucas asked.

“I wouldn’t.” you answered honestly. That earned you a worried glance from Steve. Thankfully, before any questions could come out from that, the loud shut of the basement door cut into the room.

Nancy and Robin quickly came down the stairs, a small approving look on their faces as they held onto the folders you had been patiently waiting for.

“Okay, so, we have a plan.” Nancy announced, mostly to those unaware of last night’s conversation. The files were given to the others, allowing them a clue in while Robin explained where they had gone that morning.

“Thanks to Nancy’s minions, we are now rock-star psychology students at the University of Notre Dame.”

“Ugh, Notre Dame?” you asked, earning a small amused look from your friends before they passed you the last folder. Apparently you’d be joining them this time.

“I’m now Ruth.”

“And I’m Rose.”

“Ruth?” Steve asked amusedly. You would have joined in on the silly name, if your eyes had not landed over the name at the top of your page.

“Rhonda?!” you gaped, eyes flickering between the paper and your two friends. “Of all the names–”

“The Beach Boys happened to be playing on the radio when we couldn’t think of another name.” Robin excused quickly, waving her hand to point over to the student status card. “Look at your pretty extracurriculars.”

Dustin leaned over to glance at your file. “You guys do have nice GPAs.” he said, throwing in some positive feedback.

“Thanks.” Nancy said cheerfully before explaining further. “So we called Pennhurst Asylum, told them we’d like to speak with Victor Creel for a thesis we’re co-writing on paranoid schizophrenics–”

“To which they said no.” Robin threw in, adding some reality into the plans.

“But, we landed a three o’clock with the director.”

“Now all we have to do is charm him and convince him to let us talk to Victor.”

“Then maybe we can rid Max of this curse.” Nancy finished, hopefulness in her voice.

“All easy things, of course.” you muttered sarcastically, handing your file out to the small rotation that was happening with the boys.

“Yeah, about that.” Steve joined in, “We’ve been doing our Victor Creel homework, and, uh, we got some questions.”

“Lots of questions.” Lucas emphasized.

“So do we,” Nancy agreed. “Hopefully, Victor has the answers.”

“Wait, wait, wait a second.” You all looked over to Steve as he confusedly looked over the papers before him. “Where’s mine?”

It was only a matter of seconds into Nancy’s room that Steve went into a mini tantrum.

“Nancy, you’re outta your mind if you think I’m babysitting again.”

“Okay, first of all, they’re not babies anymore. And Max is in real danger. She needs people around her.” she turned to open her closet before stopping. “Also, It wasn’t just my idea, you know.” she said to him, throwing a glance over at you.

Steve looked at you with wide eyes.

“Way to throw me under the bus.” you muttered, making your way to lie down on her perfectly made bed. Thankfully he didn’t let that part of the conversation linger and returned back to the main focus.

“I know she needs people. But why does it always have to be me?”

“Oh my God, you have a Tom Cruise poster!” Robin gushed as she came into the room now. The excitement on her face is so opposite of Steve’s annoyed one that you can’t help but be entertained from your spot. “You have a Tom Cruise poster~.”

“That’s old!” Nancy replied, trying to justify her previous celebrity crush.

“You act like you’ve never been in a girl’s room before.” you chuckled to your friend, watching her go through Nancy’s tapes next.

“This is Nancy’s room, It’s like a whole new personality to find out.”

“Can you please not touch anything?” she tried telling Robin. Again, Steve is left to try and bring the focus back onto him and his current agenda.

Leaving the babysitting business.

“I just-I just- I can’t do anything here, Nance. Maybe I can be helpful with this asylum director dude. I don’t know. I could turn on my..my charm.”

“Not the charm we need.” she shut down kindly, still hurting his ego in the process.

“Ouch,” he turned before he caught you watching comfortably from the bed. “Well, why does she get to go?” he pouted, pointing over at you

“Hey!” you frowned, sitting up now. “What are you trying to say?”

“Nothing! Just that if I’m stuck babysitting again then so should you.”

“We need her.” Nancy butt in, poking her head out from the closet. “Not only is she Ivy League type, but some of her assets might be what we need to convince them if all else fails.”

“What assets?” you and Steve asked at the same time.

“She means your boobs.” Robin said plainly, holding onto one of Nancy’s sunglasses from her dresser. “Let’s be real, she’s as hot as she is smart so it’ll be of use when we need to get through.”

You couldn’t help but glance down at your chest, frowning at the ‘assets’ in question before your eyes landed back on Steve for his reaction. He’s unfortunately looking at the same thing as you were, nodding his head despite the frustrated frown still on his face.

“I’d like to make a note that her confidence is good enough to convince anyone she belongs in a room.” Nancy threw in, giving you a sympathetic smile. “Plus, she can charm the pants off pretty much any guy that comes her way.”

“I suddenly feel dirty.” you scoffed, rolling off the bed. “But I suppose I have no other choice but to play the role of femme fatale.”

“I can charm.” he grunted, crossing his arms over his chest. “I’ve charmed the charmer.” he pointed out, looking at you again.

Nancy looked over at him with a sad smile as she tried to reassure him of things again. “I just– Look, I did a little digging last night, and it turns out this Dr. Hatch is a distinguished fellow of the American Psychiatric Association and a Harvard visiting scholar, okay? This is a lifelong student of the world. And if we’re gonna win him over, we’re gonna have to convince him that we are too. That, like him, we are true academic scholars.”

“Holy shit.” Robin whispered while playing the music box loudly. “There’s a little ballerina in here.”

It’s comically quiet for a second while the three of you gaped over at her. Steve can’t help but look at Nancy dumbfoundedly.

“Academic scholar?” he asked, using his hand to point attention to his friend. “She’s giving you an academic scholar vibe? Yeah..”

“No,” Nancy replied honestly. “But, she will.”

You all cast your eyes over the frilly pink shirt Nancy had been rummaging for her in the closet for. It’s a lovely top you’ve seen your friend wear before. But for someone like Robin, whom you’re pretty sure you haven’t even seen in a skirt before, it must have been a frilly nightmare.

“Oh, please, tell me that you’re joking.” muttered Robin, horrified.

You made a mental note that while you were more than happy to be a team player, you weren’t going to be walking around a mental asylum cinched into Nancy’s clothes. “I’m going to shop over at the Karen Wheeler selection.”

Leaving the room, you quickly made your way over to Nancy’s parents room. Thankful that the other members of the Wheeler family had set out for a busy day to give you the chance to sneak in. It was only a second later that Steve came in after you. Frown still on his face but attitude slowly disappeared when he noticed you started to change.

“I don’t think I need any help here, Steve.” you said playfully, reaching for one of Karen’s two piece suits.

It was a pastel green peplum top with a nicely fitted blazer skirt. The pastel color wasn’t your thing but it was paired up with a silky white button shirt. It made the whole ensemble look mature with the small bit of sultriness you needed. “Props to you, Karen.” you mused, squeezing inside the skirt.

You were about to reach over for the top next when Steve suddenly took your hands. “Trouble, we need to talk.” he said softly, stopping you from continuing getting dressed.

“You talk, I’ll get dressed.”

"I don't like this," Steve said while he watched you reach back for the top again. "You guys don't even know what you're walking into. And you’re doing it alone"

“How can three people be alone?” You asked, letting out a long sigh before buttoning up your shirt. “Also, we know what we’re walking into. A guarded asylum, run by staff who we’re hopefully going to trick into letting us interview one of their high risk schizophrenics patients.” you said simply, reaching over for the blazer next. “Kinda, straightforward.”

That earned you a tired look.

"Are you sure about this, Trouble?" His voice was laced with worry, his eyes searching yours for some sort of reassurance.

“Look, we’re just going to ask some questions and hopefully get out of there with something useful.”

“But what if something happens? What if you guys get caught?”

“Then you’ll get to be that brave Knight in white Nikes, again, right?” You teased, reaching out to cup the side of his face. He let out a heavy sigh, resting his hand on top of yours as he leaned in closer.

“Trouble, you know what I me—”

You pressed your lips against his, kissing him gently and stopping him from running into more scenarios. “We have each other, we’ll be safe.” You promised, pecking his lips once more before you pulled back to look at him.

Steve's concern persisted, his gaze searching yours for any sign of hesitation. "I just don't want anything to happen to you," he murmured.

“Nothing’s gonna happen to me.” You said softly, rubbing your thumb across his cheek. “Worst case scenario is we get arrested for false documents and that’ll just be a phone call to my Dad. Which Dustin or Max will help get for you.”

He nodded his head slowly and you gave a small pat to his cheek before letting go to switch out for some cute pumps Karen had hidden in the back of her closet. The outfit looked good, but was it enough for what you guys needed to do?

“All right,” you sighed, grabbing his attention again while you fixed your hair. Hoping it was still fine after having such a restless night. “How do I look?”

Steve, for the first time, didn’t seem to be bothered now that he was watching as you turned in spot to give him an overall view. His hands reached out to grab at your hips as he pulled you closer. Letting his height tower over you while he gave you a small smirk.

“Like a scholar,” he murmured. “A very pretty scholar, who uses her kisses to try to make me forget how worried I am about her.”

Your heart beats a little fast, but you find yourself almost pressing up to him. “And is it working?”

“Sorta.”

Nancy suddenly called out your name from down the hall, cutting the conversation short.

Or so you thought.

Steve waited until you were walking toward the door before he reached for your hand and tugged you back into his arms. You’re about to ask what he was doing when he leaned in to press his lips against yours again.

The kiss is deeper this time. More needy and hot than the sweet calming one you gave to him. Instantly, your body fell for it and tried to mold against his. There were always going to be unsettled feelings between the two of you, but the physical ones never seemed to be the problem.

It’s not until Robin called out your name, more aggravated than the way Nancy did, that he reluctantly pulled back. His eyes were warm, and looking at you in a way that made your cheeks burn a bit. "Just... be careful, okay, Rhonda?" he pleaded, his knuckles brushing lightly against your cheek.

The simple touch sent a shiver down your spine and you nodded meekly before offering a faint smile. “We will,” you reassured him. “Mr. Charmer.”

He shot back a beautiful smile as he finally let you go. From down the hall you could see as he picked up your discarded clothes while he whistled a familiar tune that tugged at your heart. It wasn’t until you were at the bottom of the stairs that you noticed your slightly disgruntled friends.

Nancy was rubbing the side of her head while Robin awkwardly kept adjusting at her bra. You open your mouth to tease her about her being dressed up as a Nancy clone, when she held up a hand before you could make any comment. “Let’s get the hell out of here.” she grunted before stalking to the front door.

Nancy and you were left rushing after her until you were all outside. The other two led the way towards Nancy’s station wagon when you stopped and noticed Steve’s car parked nearby. The front windows were down a bit, giving you a look inside to something you’ve been aching to see again.

Running to the door, you reached your hand in and carefully tugged on the sun visor until you were able to pull the metal out. Not wanting the other girls to catch you, you ran back towards the car and quickly climbed into the back seat.

It’s not until the drive over had begun that you finally opened up your palm and stared down at the item. The sun perfectly illuminated the shining S, giving you something of comfort to have it in your possession again. You quickly pushed the necklace into the pocket of your jacket, feeling it relax your silently anxious nerves.

“So what did you steal from his car?” Nancy asked, looking out the front window as she pulled out of her driveway onto the street. Her blue eyes flickered over to you in the rear view mirror, almost like she already knew.

“Just...something for luck.”

The three of you arrive at Pennhurst in a good amount of time. There was still time left in the day to get what you needed and hopefully return to Max before the twenty-four hours were up.

As you all exited the car, you couldn’t help but watch as Robin struggled to balance herself in the very low heels that Nancy had her in. “I feel like I’m watching a newborn deer walk.” you said with a sly grin.

The girl bobbed her head over at you, giving you a glare as she adjusted her footing again.

“Do not test me, Henderson. I can’t breathe in this thing, and I’m itchy. I’m itching all over!” she huffed.

“It’s not all about comfort.” Nancy retorted. “Okay? We’re academics.”

“Who are evidently coming straight from Easter brunch.” Robin hissed, stumbling once more before she gripped at the side of her underarms. “Also, this bra that you gave me is really pinching my boobs!”

“We’re also college girls and college girls definitely don’t say boobs. Not to mention, they know how to handle wearing heels. Especially measly one inch heels, Robs.”

“Oh, I hope you get rotten eggs in your basket this year.” she swore, giving you a small glare as she tugged at the sides again. Nancy let out a small, tired, exhale and turned to look over at the two of you.

“Okay. Could you two just let me do the talking? If that’s even possible?” she asked, sounding overwhelmed.

“It’s not only possible, it’s inevitable.” Robin threw back. “Because shortly, I’ll be dead from strangulation.”

Somehow you three managed to cover up the discomfort between the three of you in order to enter inside and get in for the meeting with Dr. Hatch.

It’s a wasted few short minutes of him overgoing all three files while you guys patiently sat around his desk. Robin somehow, got between the two of you, and started to itch again. Nearly getting the attention from the man now and then.

“Three point nine GPAs.” He mused offhandedly. “The three of you…impressive.”

“And this is a recommendation from Professor Brantley.” Nancy added in, offering the man one of the other letters written up from the Newspaper lackeys.

“Yeah, I know Larry. Quite well, actually.” The director replied, making all three of you sit up a bit straighter. His eyes looked from the paper as he gave off a small teasing smile. “Eh, you know what they say, ‘Those who can’t do, teach.’”

The other two girls give off an encouraging chuckle, while you can’t help but open your mouth at this guy’s slightly patronizing behavior.

“I always felt Aristotle said it better,” you pointed out, leaning forward to throw off one of your more charming smiles. “Those who know, do. Those that understand, teach.”

The other two girls nervously glanced your way, raising a brow at your sudden opinion. Over at the desk, sat Hatch as he took in the words you said. Only letting out an amused chuckle before he nodded his head. “That is a positive way of looking at it.”

“That’s actually why we’re here.” Nancy spoke up. “I mean, we can only learn so much in a classroom.”

“Mm. And I’m sympathetic to your struggle, truly. But there is a protocol to visiting a patient like Victor. You have to put in a request, and then you have to undergo a screening process, at which point the board will make a decision.”

You felt frustrated hearing his reply. All those were logical reasons that you three did not have time for. Glancing to your right, you watched as Robin began to squirm in her seat. Adjusting the collar and edges of her skirt over and over as she tried not to scratch. You reached out to grab at her hand, giving her a warning look that only caused her to pout at you.

“I can see you’re disappointed. But I’m more than happy to give you a tour of our facility. Perhaps you can even speak to some patients in our low-security wing.”

“And we’d..we would love that.” Nancy said, looking over at you guys to nod in agreement. “It’s just that, um..our thesis is due next month.”

“And you’re out of time.” he figured.

“Unfortunately, yes.” you sighed, trying to sound a little guilty about it. “Things got a little pushed back–”

“Whose fault is that?” he asked sharply, nearly making you throw him a glare. From the side you watched Nancy’s eyes widen a bit as she attempted to throw in a bit of damage control.

“Ours. Absolutely. And I do apologize–”

“Don’t apologize, Ruth. Screw that!” Robin interrupted. “The fact of the matter is, we did put in a request months ago and were denied. And then we reapplied and were denied again. And coming here was our last-ditch effort to save our thesis. And I really..I can’t breathe in this thing!” she said, turning to glance at Nancy.

“Well, Rose, maybe you’d like to go outside and get some air. I think Rhonda and I can handle this.” she insisted, giving Robin a pleading look.”

“Maybe I should, Ruth!” she said, slapping at the arms of her chair before she got up from her seat. “Because I’m starting to think this whole thing is a colossal mistake. I’m breaking out in a rash. My boobs hurt. And I’ll tell you the truth, Anthony. May I call you Anthony? These aren’t actually my clothes. I borrowed them because I wanted you to take us seriously. Because nobody takes girls seriously in this field. They just don’t.”

From your seat you can’t help but gape at your friend because either she’s been taking acting lessons without your knowledge or that shirt was really so torturous that it was giving her the best ending speech of her life.

“We don’t look the part or whatever. But can I tell you a story? 1978, I was at summer camp. And my counselor Drew told me and everyone in Cabin C, the true story of the Victor Creel Massacre. And little Petey McHew..You know Petey, right, Ruth, Rhonda?”

“Of..of course.” Nancy stuttered.

“Totally!” you chuckled nervously, wondering where this was going to go.

“Yeah. Little Petey McHew started sobbing right there on the spot. Full-on hyperventilating. And all the other campers, they couldn’t sleep for weeks. And I couldn’t sleep either but not because I was scared. Because I was obsessed with the question, ‘What would drive a human being to commit such unimaginable acts?’ Other kids, they wanted to be astronauts, basketball players, rockstars. But I wanted to be you! I wanted to be you. So, forgive me if I’ll now try anything in my power, including wearing this ridiculous outfit, if I might get to speak to the man that ignited my passion and learn a little bit more about how his twisted, but let’s face it, totally fascinating mind works. So, yes, we don’t have the official paperwork, but don’t tell me that cry-baby Petey McHew wouldn’t have gotten an audience with Victor in a matter of moments if he’d asked politely, because you and I both know that he would.”

A beat of pause and you were practically glued to the edge of your seat. Glancing between a very red faced Robin and what looked like a suddenly moved Hatch.

“So..ten minutes with Victor. That’s all I ask.”

It felt like forever as the three of you stared over at the man with bated breath.

“Follow me, girls.”

Without question, you all shot out from your seats and quickly followed the man out. Robin stood proudly between the two of you, allowing Hatch to lead the way while she held her palms out for you both. Nancy and you happily gave her a pleased smirk before pulling your hands out and giving Robin the well deserved high-five.

By the time you guys were walking the grounds of Pennhurst, the sun had died even more. Throwing the whole yard into an overcast gray as the four of you made the way to Creel’s holding.

“These are our gardens.” Hatch announced. “Beautiful aren’t they? We allow them two hours of outside time a day.”

“Can’t they just escape?” Robin asked, glancing at one of the patients waving nearby.

“They could. But the vast majority choose to be here. They like it here.”

“And they’ve said this themselves?” you muttered, worriedly glancing over to a particular woman near a flower bed. Something about this place didn’t feel right to you and his indifferent tone wasn’t helping you feel any better about it.

The three of you are led into a building. The soft sounds of music could be heard from outside the room before you guys walked in.

“This is one of our more popular areas. The listening room.” Hatch said in a much quieter voice. “We found that music has a particularly calming effect on the broken mind. The right song, particularly one which holds some personal meaning, can prove a salient stimulus.”

The right song..

That sparked an interest within you. Recalling how just the other night, Eddie managed to calm down your bad dream with the simple strum of the familiar tune.

Hatch straightened up as he led you girls towards a room in the back. Voice turned eerie as he went on. “But there are those who are beyond a cure.”

Down the stairs, what looked like a basement floor, stood a lonely guard. Curiously glancing at the four of you guys while you made your descent.

“Uh, Dr. Hatch, do you think it might be possible for us to speak to Victor alone?”

He paused at that, casting a shocked glance at her question. “Alone?” he asked, walking back over. You perked up, offering him a kind smile as you tried to help make the idea sound not as crazy as it really was.

“I have to second that request. I think it’d be beneficial for the three of us to gain hands-on experience in this.”

Robin nervously nodded along with you, throwing in her piece.

“I-I think that we would just love the challenge of speaking with Victor without the safety net of an expert such as yourself. Then we could really rub it in Professor Bradley’s face. When we get back to campu–”

“Professor Bradley?” he interrupted. “I don’t believe I know a Professor Bradley.”

“Brantley!” Nancy corrected, trying to fix Robin's slip up. “She..she meant to say Brantley.”

“Didn’t I say Brantley? What did I say?”

“You keep messing up today!” you playfully chided, forcing a giggle to come out as you lightly slapped the back of her hand.

“Sorry, silly me. Words, letters.” she chuckled nervously. “Guess I’m just nervous..I mean, excited. SO excited to speak with Victor. Preferably, as they mentioned, alone?”

Much to your dismay, the suspicion never left his eyes as he watched over the three of you quietly. You’re beginning to think that this whole plan has failed and that you three would be leaving with nothing. But soon enough his stoic face broke as he spoke.

“Yes,” he said, smiling over his frown now. “Why not? You’ve caught me in a rebellious mood.”

You forced a chuckle with the others, hopefully sounding enthralled with his humor enough that he’ll return back to trying to be charming once more.

“There’s something rather urgent I need to check on anyway, so.. Sure.” he said before looking towards the guard. “Keep a close eye on them.”

With that, he quickly made his leave to the stairs. All of you shot off thanks to him as he made his exit before following the guard into the area.

It’s an ominous hall of cells. Clamoring and groaning with other patients that seemingly weren’t allowed the freedom of wandering the lawns of the asylum. You can feel your heartbeat in your throat with every step after the guard, not daring looking into the cells of the patients you walked past while the guard laid out some rules.

“Do not startle him. Do not touch him. Do not pass him anything. Stand five feet away from the bars at all times. Is that clear?”

“Yes, sir.” the three of you said together.

He approached the last cell of the block, using his baton to hit against the metal bars to the patient inside.

“Victor!” he sang out. “Today’s your lucky day! You got visitors…real pretty ones.”

There’s an echoing scratching noise that had you wincing slightly. Victor said nothing, keeping his back to you guys.

“Must be in one of his moods.” shrugged the guard. “Have fun.”

Without another taunt, he left down the hall from where you came from. Leaving the three of you to get started on the work finally. Nancy is the first one confident enough to speak out to the man, ignoring the fact that he was quietly snarling to himself in the chair.

“Victor?” she called out gently. “My name is Nancy. Nancy Wheeler. And these are my friends.”

You and Robin quickly tell him your names, careful with how loudly you spoke out to him.

“Um, we have some questions.” Robin added, voice higher with nerves.

“I don’t talk to reporters.” Victor spat out. “Hatch knows that.”

“We’re not reporters.” Nancy quickly, but gently, corrected. “We’re here because..we believe you. And because..we need your help.”

Robin took her turn, her voice steady despite the fear in her eyes. “Whatever killed your family, we think it’s back.”

Silence hung heavy in the air as you three waited for a response. When none came, you sucked in a sharp breath, summoning every ounce of courage your friends had to come to you. "And we're not leaving until we get some answers, Victor.."

All your words must have sparked something of an interest to the man, causing him to pull away from the desk and emerge from the shadows. Revealing an older man. Worn down by years of torment that must have come from that night. But the most haunting part of his appearance were his eyes. Swollen eyes shut by some previous stab wound.

But even with that in mind, there was something about his gaze that felt off. As if he was staring right through you.

“..When he attacks, our friend described it as a trance. Like a waking nightmare. That’s why we think he’s coming for her next. Does any of this, anything we’ve told you, sound like what happened to your family?”

From your spot you could hear as Victor’s breath began to shake. Almost fearfully.

“Victor.” Nancy spoke out again. “I know this is hard–”

“You don’t know anything!” he bellowed.

His voice echoed throughout the hall. Almost shutting up any other noise around you guys.

“You’re right.” Nancy nodded slowly. “We don’t know. That’s why we’re here. To learn, to understand.”

“We need to know how you survived that night.” Robin added, earning a disbelieving laugh from the man.

“Survived?” he asked sardonically. “Is that what you call this? Did I survive?” He slowly approached the bars, almost as if he knew where to direct his growing anger towards. The three of you pressed closer to each other. Keeping a safe space back as he spoke again. “No, I assure you, I am still very much in hell.”

Surprisingly, that did not stop Victor from beginning his story.

The return home from war, the new fortune that fell into his family’s lives, and the promise of a new chapter in their lives. The reminiscence in his voice almost sounded..loving, far beyond the tone of a man who had murdered those he spoke of.

“It was a magnificent home. Alice said it looked like it was from a fairy tale.”

He spoke of the name so fondly, almost like sighing her name brought relief to him.

“Alice. Was this your daughter?” Nancy asked.

“Mhm, Yeah. But Henry, my boy, he was a sensitive child..and I could see he felt something was wrong.” His voice turned low for his other child. Sort sombering to his previous mood. “We had one month of peace in that house. And then it began..”

He shook his head slowly. Memories seemingly coming to his mind.

“Dead animals, mutilated, tortured, began to appear near our home. Rabbits, squirrels, chickens, even dogs. The police chief blamed the attacks on a wildcat. This..” He paused to let out another feigned laugh. “This was no wildcat. This was an evil. An evil neither animal nor human.”

He walked towards the bars again as he whispered out next words.

“This was a spawn of Satan. A demon. And it was even closer than I realized.”

You felt a shiver run down your spine. Trying to picture out what it was that could have been attacking their home. But like the night you saw Chrissy die, you knew that force was unseeable. That its fury came with no warning.

“My family began to have encounters conjured by this demon. Nightmares. Waking, living nightmares. This demon, it seemed to take pleasure in tormenting us. Even poor, innocent Alice.”

So this curse spared no one. You couldn’t help but think. If his daughter wasn’t safe from it, neither would Max. And that made your stomach turn even more. You pushed your hand into your pocket, squeezing around the metal of the necklace. It brought a moment of comfort until you listened to more of Victor’s story.

“It wasn’t long before I began to have encounters of my own.” he recalled, turning away from you all. “I suppose all evil must have a home. And though I had not a rational explanation for it, I..I could sense this demon..always close. I became convinced it was hiding, nesting, somewhere within the shadows of our home.”

You can’t help but think about this presence. This sense of dread, always creeping up on you these days. Like it was haunting you.

“It had cursed our town. It had cursed our home..It had cursed us.”

A hand reached out for your arm and you glanced down to see Nancy gripping onto you while her face stared hard at Victor. Quietly, you gave you a small reassuring pat before watching as Victor flopped down onto his bed defeatedly.

“It took Virginia first.”

The flashback of Chrissy’s body being twisted and pulled into different directions came to mind. You barely knew her and it shocked you to your core. You couldn’t imagine the horrors if you had to see it happen to someone you loved. Someone like St–

“I tried to get the children out, to save them!” he exclaimed, pulling back your attention. “..But I was back to France, back in the war..It..it was a memory. I had thought German soldiers were inside. I ordered its shelling. I was wrong.”

Victor physically started to become tormented by his own words. The very words that must have been half the torture as whatever was going through his mind. You felt yourself being pulled in, wishing to help this poor man, but you had to hear it all.

“This demon, it was taunting me. And I was sure it would take me, just as he’d taken my Virginia. But then..I heard..another voice. At first, I believed it was an angel. And I..I followed her, only to find myself in a nightmare far worse…While I was away, the demon took my children. Henry slipped into a coma shortly after that. A week later, he died.”

Without realizing it, you pressed against the metal bars. Listening to what you thought might be the very future you were to face. But even with that new fear in you, you couldn’t help but seek out one missing piece.

“Did you hear it?” you whispered.

“Hear what?” he muttered back.

“The ticking..”

He turned his whole body around, facing in your direction calmly before he nodded his head.

“Yes..it was there..it was always there.”

You staggered back, hope fleeting quickly as you came to realize that even with your small difference in things. Your fate would end the same. From the side you could feel Nancy and Robin cast you a worried look before Victor spoke up again.

“I tried to join them…I tried!” His voice sounded almost like a small child, pleading for forgiveness to his upset Mother. He raised up two fists and pressed them to his eyes. It weighed down on your already heavy heart.

“Hatch stopped the bleeding.” he sobbed. “He wouldn’t let me join them!”

The three of you watched as he slowly lied down on the bed. Reaching up to his pillow to hold close to his face for comfort.

“The angel you followed, who was she?” asked Nancy gently.

He didn't answer as he swayed gently. Only humming out the best that he could in his distress state. It sounded familiar. Something you’ve heard long ago. But you couldn’t quite recall it now.

“Victor?..Victor!”

“Is he everything you hoped he would be?”

You guys jumped at the booming voice, turning around to glance down the hall. Hatch, along with two security guards behind him, were making their way over now.

“I just had a very interesting conversation with Professor Brantley! Perhaps we should discuss in my office while we wait for the police.”

The three of you were quickly rushed out of the holding cells. Pushing impatiently through the stairs until you were back in the listening room. Nancy raced after Hatch, trying to plead out to him.

“You’re not listening. Our friend is in danger!”

“Do you really expect me to believe anything you have to say at this point?”

“It’s the truth!”

“You are free to tell your sob story to the police.”

You clung close to Robin’s side since leaving the cell. Victor’s words still echoed in your mind as you guys weaved through the tables of people. Every now and then a guard would give your shoulder a shove and you’d have to step faster to keep close to the other two.

Once you guys were back outside, Robin gripped at your arm and pushed you close to Nancy as she leaned in to speak to you two better.

“Victor said the night of the attack, everything went on in the house, but he made specific mention of music.”

You nodded your head a little. “The night at Eddie’s trailer. The only reason I knew something was up was because of the lights outside. But there wasn’t any music..”

“Right, but that might have been the key difference!” she pointed out. “He said music was playing. And then, when we asked him about the angel, he started to hum.”

She hummed the tune a bit before singing out the lyrics. “Say nighty-night and kiss me. Hold me tight..”

“Dream a Little Dream of Me!” Nancy caught on.

“Yeah, Ella Fitzgerald.”

“The voice of an angel!” you and Nancy gasped.

“Hatch said that music can reach parts of the brain that words can’t. So maybe that’s the key, a lifeline.”

“A lifeline back to reality.” Nancy added.

“Something to ground them.” you muttered, mostly to yourself. But would that have really worked at the stage when you and Eddie were calling out to Chrissy? It wasn’t just a trance she was in, she was being lifted off the Earth. You were so lost in thought, you almost missed catching your friends checking over their shoulders.

“You’re gonna have to lose those.” Nancy muttered towards your feet as she stole one more glance.

“Lose them?” you asked confused, looking from your feet to the guards behind you three.

“I think we can beat him.” Nancy whispered. This time it was Robin’s turn to be confused.

“What?”

“To the car.”

Robin’s face paled a bit at the idea.

“Okay. I’m warning you right now, I have terrible coordination. Like it took me six months longer to walk than all the other babies.”

“Yeah, I’m not really any better.” you sighed, feeling the rush already start to climb up your body. “Last time I tried running off I got caught.”

“She’s right.” Robin nodded. “Those Russian guards caught her in seconds.”

Nancy gave you two both exasperated looks before she sternly turned towards the way she wanted you three to go. “Just follow my lead.”

“No, my God!” Robin panicked.

In a split second the three of you sprinted off in the lawn. Shoes flying off feet as you ran through the grounds, past the orderly and patients that covered the large lawn. The guards continued to call out for the three of you to stop but you guys pushed through.

Behind you Robin was panicking, and you were trying to control the dry heave that wanted to come out of your throat as you attempted to follow Nancy. You could hear one of the patients call out as you all zoomed past him.

“Cinderella, you dropped your shoe!”

You were definitely gonna have to buy Karen Wheeler a nice pair of pumps after this.

Somehow you guys managed to make it to the front of the Asylum. The air burned your lungs and you let out a tired cry at the sight of the station wagon. All of you quickly climbed inside, shutting the doors in record timing. Nancy’s hands were barely on the wheel before the guards began to pound at the windows.

“GOGOGOGOGO!” Robin babbled, panicked at the sight of the men.

The tires screeched loudly as Nancy shot out of the parking spot. It’s a mess of emotions as you let out a small thankful whine while Robin continued to panic.

“Holy shit! HOLY SHIT! HOLY SHIT!”

“You really are a weird runner!” Nancy said to Robin, earning an annoyed look from the girl. Dustin’s voice perked up from the radio, cutting into the quick celebration.

“Robin, where the hell are you? This is a code red. I repeat, a code red!”

“Max!” you gasped, allowing Robin’s steady hand to take the radio from you.

“Dustin, it’s Robin. We copy!”

“Holy shit, finally! Please, please tell me you guys have this figured out!”

“It’s music! She needs to hear music as a lifeline. Use a song she’s connected with to bring her back!”

The line went painfully quiet.

“Oh God.” you gasped, feeling the tears spring to your eyes. Not Max. It couldn’t happen to her. Not the small girl who sparked such a fiery personality. The one who offered you nothing but a genuine friendship back home. The only person who understood what it was like dealing with the real Billy. She was your friend, she was like family at this point. And despite the current rifts that hit your current relationship, you still deeply cared for her.

If she was going through what Chrissy and Fred did—you weren’t ready for that reality.

“Please not her.”

Robin could only reach forward to grip at your hand while Nancy pressed harder on the gas. Jerking the car a bit as she sped back towards town. You quickly began to hyperventilate, wondering if you’ve just lost your dear friend when suddenly Dustin’s voice broke through again.

“We got her! Shit..She’s back, it worked!”

All three of you let out a sigh of relief together.

“Thank God.” you heard Robin whisper.

The beat of your heart is still erratic and you cover your face to take a second and catch your breath. It wasn’t over yet. You guys still had time.

“Time?” said a familiar deep voice beside you.

Slowly, you pulled your hands away from your face. Around you the world began to shift, turning into the dark middle of the night as it took you into a different reality. You were driving suddenly. Holding onto the large wheel of the car that seemed so familiar.

“No.” you whispered, shaking your head, this couldn’t be real. You were..you were just in the station wagon. Turning your head, you were shocked to find Billy sitting on the seat beside you. Mouth still oozing from the dark blood as he threw you a smirk.

“Don’t you know, babydoll?” he asked playfully. “Times up.”

You were so shocked, so stunned to see Billy outside of a dream, that you never really noticed the headlights that were coming your way…

“DUSTIN! STEVE! WE NEED HELP! – OH SHIT, SHE’S CURSED GUYS, HOLY SHIT! — GODDAMNIT, ONE OF YOU BASTARDS ANSWER ME. – WHAT’S THE SONG!? – STEVE! WHAT’S HER FAVORITE SONG!?”

A/N: Hey guys! This chapter was a bit lengthy, but I could not find it in myself to skip out on Victor’s story. The actor, gives off such great emotion and I’ve been a fan of his when he was back playing Freddy~ ANYWAY, I tried to include some scenes I hope you guys love. Please excuse any mistakes and let me know what you think! Would love some feedback~

TAGGING LIST: k @cluz1babe, @starofavolonea, @primroseluna, & @siriuslysmoking

#steve harrington x reader #steve harrington x henderson!reader #steve harrington x henderson reader #steve harrington x you #steve harrington x y/n #steve harrington x female reader #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson x henderson!reader #eddie munson x henderson reader #eddie munson x y/n #eddie munson x female reader #eddie munson x you #cac #angst #fluff #stranger things fic

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starzshopoflove · 7 months

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But did he ever make you cry? (Johnny "Soap" Mactavish x Reader)

Notes: fem reader! sfw, literally just me projecting onto reader, best friend Soap! Pining!! Hurt/comfort! I'll make this a series if you guys like it (WC: 1.7)

(Pov first person in italics)

God when is this gonna be fucking over

I’ve been here for what? 4 hours? He just keeps going on and on and on about his ex and “How crazy she was”. When was the last time he asked me something, feels like I'm sitting here for decoration. If he wanted to talk about another girl he could have found a therapist or something, Jesus.

This might be up there in the top 10 worst dates, maybe after that freak who got up in my ear after coffee asking if I wanted to go back to his place. Am I cursed?? What is it about me and attracting these absolute losers?

Its been a while since you’ve gone out a bit rough around the edges since your last breakup. Sure the relationship wasn't that serious but it still bothered you that he left because “You weren't putting out enough” after he said it was fine that you wanted to take things slow. You got your hopes up a bit too high after this guy (absolute fuckin DWEEB) in your lecture asked if you could grab dinner together. You just wasted a solid 2 hours picking out a cute little skirt and doing your makeup checking twice to make sure you looked nothing less then too the 9’s.

And then he shows up in a baggy pair of khaki joggers and hoodie, y'know after he said “Get pretty I’ll take you somewhere nice”. Oh but of course he just “accidentally” forgot the reservations but that's fine he knows a great place nearby. The great place being a diner in the middle of a highway rest with fluorescent lights that flickered too often with a weird smell in the air.

His table manners were practically non-existent smacking his lips when he chewed, sucking on his fingers and getting ketchup on his face. That sight alone made you put down your fork that barely poked at your clearly reheat mush they insisted was a pasta dish. Oh and he wouldn’t stop fucking talking, honestly you were starting to question how it was possible he hadnt choked on his food when he spoke.

You need to get out now. Any Longer at this table and your dignity might start slipping away. He yapped on about whatever as you tuned it out, nodding your head like you cared slowly tucking your phone back into your purse and pulling it onto your shoulder. You were already drawing up a game plan in your head, bathroom, call your roommate, tell her to come get you and block his number. Perfectly full proof.

“You mind if I slip out for a moment? I gotta head to the bathroom, won't be long promise.”

You slapped on a fake smile as he shot you a nod with a sleezy grin, all your senses pulled you back into reality as you felt disgust pool in your gut at the sight of him noticing more off putting things about the longer you looked. You platforms clicked as you pattered off into the one stall bathroom, you stood up straight inside not wanting to lean on the wall when you noticed the dried piss stains and mysterious gunk smeared on it.

It was suffocating, every second of it. The smell, The lights, the noise and of course him. You felt insulted, was this really the kind of place you deserved to be taken out too? You don't get to be wined and dined every now and then do you? Even after you spend days in class or at work and heaving your bones to the campus library to study for the hundreds of tests your professors insist on giving you.

You let out a sigh of contempt digging through your purse shoving the ugly rearing head of disappointment back as you pulled out your phone. Scrolling through the contact list to find your roommates number chewing on your thumbnail as you brought your phone up to your ear letting it ring, feeling your heart pound further the longer the phone rang. You but down hard once you heard the automated message trill, a heavy sigh leaving your chest as you slumped against the wall of your stall running a hand through your hair.

What the fuck am I gonna do, I can’t stay here any longer or i’m not gonna be held responsible for whatever happens to him if he brings up how much he loves blondes again.

You swallowed your pride unlocking your phone again scrolling up your contact list hoping he wouldn’t be too mad at having to save you from this god awful excuse for a date as you eyes settled on his number

“Johnny 🧼”

You thumb pressed down on the number bringing your shakey hand back up to your ear, the pressure that was just annoying you got heavier on your chest the longer you thought about having to stay here with him. You might burst into tears if you had to stay another hour and listen to this loser describe how much he likes girls that are the exact opposite of you basically holding you hostage to listen on this “date”

The ringing stopped when a sigh on the other end of the line broke the silence

“Ello?”

You felt the pressure on your chest bubble and pop once you heard his voice, your own cracking a little as you spoke up. Yeah it was embarrassing to cry over the phone but it would be more embarrassing to sit there and finish the date with red eyes.

“Johnny,, please tell me your not busy right now”

“Can’t be busy when yer asleep”

Your voice was shaky which chilled his nerves with worry, you don’t call him at night unless it was an emergency and with the way you sounded all he could do was think the worst

“What’s wrong bonnie”

It was more of a hushed gentle voice than any annoyance you anticipated, he couldn’t see it but you were already bleary eyed and pouting over the line.

You sat down closing the toilet lid as another shakey sigh let you while the seat creaked under you. You felt you words choke up in your throat pressing heavy on your sternum. You wanted to explain yourself, tell him how horrible your date went, how you felt stupid for going out with him, and how sorry you are for bothering him at night knowing he just got back from a mission only a few days ago.

“Talk to me bonnie, can’t help if you dinnae tell me”

“Can you come get me, ‘m sorry”

Barely a whisper over the phone, Johnny was already imagining the worst when you asked him that. You could hear him shuffling around the room already pressing his phone between his shoulder and ear. In his head you were already kidnapped locked away in some cellar ready to be shipped away, when you were just sniffling and tearing up in a shitty diner bathroom.

“You ok? nbody hurtin you?”

You could hear him tugging his heavy boots on, finally letting out a breath you were suffocating to hold knowing you’d finally get out of here

“No ‘m just not having a good time please, i’ll tell you when your here.”

Johnny looked down hearing his phone ping with the location hushing your sniffling through the line as he opened up the map shutting his front door and quickly sliding into his pick up.

__________________________________

The wait felt like forever, it wasn’t of course you watched the clock religiously. 8 minutes, Johnny sped across town in 8 minutes for you, probably breaking a few laws he’d wave away once he got here.

He walked into the diner seeing it empty, your date no where to be seen while he took in the atmosphere. It was disgusting, and all he could think about was how you got here and why you would ever be here heavily sighing as he paced over knocking on the bathroom door leaning slightly against the door as he waited for your response or even just a sound.

“Steamin Jesus,, lovie you in here?”

He could hear shuffling on the other side as you opened the door up looking up at him with a pouted face and flushed face trying to hold back any noise or tears not wanting to cry in front of him. His hand slowly went to the small of your back gently rubbing and guiding you away from the loo.

“What you doin out ‘ere alone bunny?”

His voice was low as he mumbled down to you softly, face screwed and eyebrows furrowed while he peered down at you spinning your head around the small dinner seeing your abandoned table and spotting a napkin with writing on it.

You moved over to the table reading the napkins silently

“Tif called, had a good time with you, sorry this didn’t work out!”

He left. He asked you out and left you abandoned in the middle of a dinner after trying to feed you shitty food. He asked you out and thought it was fine to treat you like this. This was the straw that broke your back crumpling the napkin under your hand as you pressed your palms on the table hanging your head, you’ve already embarrassed yourself enough what’s the worst some crying can do.

Johnny watching you crumble felt like a punch to his gut knocking all the air out of his lungs, He moves your hand off the napkin reading it and turning his head to you. Your hands already found your face hiding your shame as you stifled your sobs and swallowed thickly at the fat tears pouring down your face. He could be angry later when he finally got his hands on who ever hurt you

He pulled your hands off your face, wrapping you in his arms one hand on the small of your back, another petting at your hair, hushing you softly as you slid your hands up to cling at his shirt burying your face into his chest shaking and heaving as you tried not to be loud. He petted at your hair, rocking you gently holding you close tucking your head under his chin as he slowly turned back to sit down in the booth tugging you down to his lap letting you curl up in on him again letting you cry to him as he coo’d to you

“Shh poor darling girl, talk to me bonnie, breath ts ok ‘m here for ye”

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yougavemeyourheartyouknow · 8 months

Text

On thin ice (Hockey player! Miguel O’Hara x Ice skater! Fem! Reader

A/N: hiii, the usual, not proofread, Miguel might be ooc. There will be 2 chapters left in this series before I end it 😭🫶🏼. Also I need ideas for a costume for Miguel in the last chapter, if you have any ideas lmk in the comments.

(Y/N)- Your name, (N/N)- Nickname.

Cursing, mentions of throwing up, alcohol use, Miguel finally growing a fucking pair (reader too). Miguel being just a very very lowkey creep.

Word count: 2.1k

Series Materlist

Chapter 13: Crawlin’ back to you.

—

“I don’t get it, he keeps giving me the most mixed-fucking-signals.” You sighed, leaning your head into your palm, your elbow resting on the wooden table you were sitting at with Logan, Kate and Kate’s boyfriend. “Like how are you going to kiss me, then start dating another girl, then kiss me again, without saying any sort of explanation? For all I know he cheated on her with that last kiss.” You continued to rant, your free hand spinning your straw in your six dollar Chili’s Halloween themed margarita.

“Well… maybe things would be a lot less complicated if both of learned how to stop being stubborn and just, I don’t know, fucking communicated.” Kate lectured you (for the umpteenth time this month) as she grabbed a chip from the basket before dipping it into the small salsa bowl, then taking a bite out of said chip.

“Babe chill, you act we weren’t ‘just friends’ when you would sneak into my dorm room every night all of last year.” Kate’s boyfriend (whose name was Xavier) defended you with a sly smile, wrapping his arm around her waist, pulling her closer as he nuzzled his nose into the crook of her neck. You couldn’t help but feel a slight ache of jealousy in your chest as you watched the two, they were so cute…

Kate scoffed and rolled her eyes at her boyfriend’s reply. “Whatever…” she grumbled, causing Logan to let out a small laugh as he leaned against the wall that was connected to the booth.

“Hey at least you guys were actually acting friendly towards one another, when (Y/N) and Miguel aren’t dry humping each other like horny teens-“ you sunk your face into your hand as a heat of embarrassment rushed your cheek, you couldn’t believe that Logan has the audacity to say that in a crowded restaurant, and it wasn’t even a true statement! You would only make out like horny teens… “then they’re at each other’s throats.” He finished as he playfully nudged you with his elbow, causing you to almost spill your drink, but he ignored your scowl as you brought your drink closer to you before taking a sip.

“It’s giving enemies to lovers.”

“Do you really have to relate everything in real life to book tropes, babe?”

“Yes, yes I do.”

“Okay-“ you jumped in, putting your hands up near your shoulders in a defensive manner, sitting up straight in your seat, “how about, let’s stop talking about my pathetic and complicated love life. Let’s talk about something else, like Logan’s pathetic and complicated love life.” You said with a small smile, your gaze shifting over to Logan as you attempt to shift conversation topics, your sentence causing Logan to scoff and roll his eyes.

“No thank you, next topic.” He murmured, before taking a bite of a french fry from his plate.

“Aww come on Logan, did you end up going on that date?” You teased him with a smile,going to snatch a fry from Logan’s plate but he swatted your hand away as he sent you a glare.

“Shut up, (N/N).” He grumbled. Obviously, it didn’t go well.

“All I’m gonna say (Y/N), is he either wants to one and done hatefuck you,wants a situationship, or he’s secretly madly in love with you and wants a relationship but is afraid to tell you.” Xavier chimed in, “and you can trust me because I’m a guy, and I know how guy minds work, right Logan?” Your skating partner just nodded his head in response.

“Well if it’s not the last one, I think it would be better if my delusions weren’t fed into…” you sighed, taking another sip of your drink. “Anyways, we should get going.”

—

“Alright guys, we've got a home game tonight, so don’t get too fucking wild.” Miguel said in a stern tone, his face in its usual scowl as he gets out of his car’s driver seat and walks towards the team, pointing his finger towards his teammates who had already been waiting for him to arrive in the parking lot, gathered in a small circle, some leaning against the other cars that they had traveled in. It was Friday night, the end of midterms and the beginning of fall break, and as a small celebration The spiders had decided to all go out to eat before the game.

“It’s a fucking Chili’s O’Hara, how wild can we get?” One of them asked rhetorically, as they all started to walk towards the restaurant together.

“There’s a reason we’re not allowed into Dave and Busters guys...” Miguel mumbled with an eye roll, causing some of the other members to snicker at his reaction.

It was honestly surprising how quickly they were able to get a table to seat 26 people despite it being fairly busy on a Friday afternoon. Miguel only had to remind the group twice as they waited for the table to not get absolutely hammered or not overly gorge themselves on food to avoid throwing up mid-game, the last thing he his coach ripping him a new one as he tried to keep the team focused while half of them were throwing up into their helmets or in a nearby alleyway while the other half way too drunk to walk let alone skate.

Miguel sipped on his coke, looking over at Peter as he listened in on him ranting to the goalie about the newest comic issue of Spider-Man that he had just finished reading, when he suddenly felt a hand lightly tap on his chest causing him to look away and turn his attention to Ben Reilly who was sitting to the right of him, once he his head was turned, he’s eyes followed the direction that Ben’s finger was pointing at, the words that were spoken from Ben not really completely registering due to the all the noise happening around him at the table. He really didn’t give a good look in the direction Ben and now a few of the nearby Spiders were looking at, a fleeting glance at most, half expecting them to be looking at a waitress that they thought was attractive or something in that nature. He was in the middle of turning his head back towards the opposite direction again when he caught a glimpse of a familiar face walking into the direction of the hallway where the bathroom was.

“Isn’t that ice princess?” One of the hockey players that was sitting a bit closer to Miguel asked in a teasing tone, but Miguel didn’t give him the satisfaction of responding, he didn’t give a response to some of the ones who overheard to question and attempted to provoke him, chuckling, or making sly comment, a few making kissing noises. Rather he stood up from the table, rather abruptly, causing some of the others to look at him in confusion and curiosity, and as if his body was suddenly possessed, he started to walk in the same direction you had. He didn’t know why he was following behind you, if he was being honest with himself he felt kinda like a creep, but he couldn’t get himself to stop and turn around. You haven’t even noticed him, you didn’t even glance in his direction, fuck-you didn’t even know you were in the same building as him, but your presence was like one of a siren to him, and he was the sailor caught in your entrancing song.

He didn’t care if you led him towards his inevitable demise, he’d gladly drown for you.

The second you disappeared into the women’s restroom, he came back to reality, his head filled with thoughts other than you once again. In an almost panic state, he quickly rushed into the male’s bathroom that was right in front of him, thanking the gods above that you didn’t turn around and saw him. He walked over to the sink and splashed some water on his face, before leaning against the bathroom sink and taking some deep breaths to help slow down his heart rate, he was thankful that no one else was in the bathroom with him. After a few minutes, he heard the faint sound of a door creaking on, for a split second, he gambled with the idea of leaving the door and hopefully be granted the opportunity to “accidentally” run into you, but before he could properly and rationally think about it, he found his hand already pushing open the door.

“Hey! Watch it-oh shit- sorry Mig, I didn’t know that was you…” You dusted yourself off, grateful that your hand shot up to the side of the wall to prevent you from falling down butt first on the Chili’s tilted floor.

“It’s okay, I didn't see you either.” Technically speaking Miguel wasn’t lying. He didn’t see her. “You okay? I didn’t hurt you right?” He asked in a slightly softer tone, a hand quickly coming up to gently grab your chin and moving your face slightly side-to-side as if checking for injury, his brows furrowed together as those ever familiar wrinkles appeared on his face. Your heart fluttered from the sweet and nurturing gesture, Miguel’s kindness was a trait of his you saw very rarely, at least towards you, so you couldn’t help your stomach from flipping. You brought a hand up after a second, a smile slowly but surely forming on your face (as well as a blush) as your hand came up and over his, and slowly brought it away from your face and back down.

“I’m okay Miguel, don’t worry.” You reassured him in a similar quiet tone, neither of you noticing that your smaller hand was still holding onto his larger one. Your response caused Miguel’s worried expression to turn into one of relief, his hand leaving your and going up to his chest instead as he left out a breath he didn’t know he was holding. You attempted your best to not allow your facial expression to falter as you ignore the sudden ache in your chest once his warm hand leaves yours.

“Look…” Miguel begins after a second, hand traveling up to the nape of his neck and his gaze drops to the floor for a second before going back up to meet yours. “I wanted to ask you, if you would come watch our game tonight, it starts at 7, you could bring your friends if you want. I’ll make sure you all get good seats near the front if you do.” God he felt like he was asking his middle school crush to go on a date for the first time all over again. How did you manage to make him feel like a nervous wreck, make him feel like he could combust from anger and jealousy, make him feel like he’d never deserve you but also make him feel like he was meant to kneel and worship the ground you walked on. Is that what love felt like to him???

“Really?” Your face scrunched to one of confusion and you tilted your head to the side a bit. “Why not invite your girlfriend?” The question you just uttered took Miguel a second to process, girlfriend? What girlfriend? He didn’t-

Wait…

Ohhhhh…

He forgot he never got the chance to tell you he dumped her ass the same day he surprised you at the ice rink.

He brought his hand down and put it into his jean pocket, letting out a small chuckle as he shook his head before replying,

“Oh, no. I, uh, I dumped her.”

Was it bad that you felt relieved?

“So is that a yes?” His lips pulled up in that classic Miguel smirk, and you couldn’t help but give in.

“Okay, okay I’ll go.” You nodded with a smile, it took all of Miguel’s being to not grab you and pull you into a kiss. “But-“ you continued, bringing a finger up, pointing it at him. “If I go, you have to come watch me and Logan perform at Regionals next week, deal?” Miguel couldn’t help but let a small playful scoff leave his lips as he smirks.

“That’s it ice princess? Sounds fair enough.”

You smiled, despite his cockyness coming back at full force you couldn’t help but be a bit excited at the whole idea.

“You promise?” You asked, and Miguel chuckled, you sounded so adorable when asking that.

“Of course.”

Without another word you brought your hand back up towards him, all the fingers being curled into a fist except your pinky finger, that was outstretched. Miguel rolled his eyes and his smirk widened, releasing a small chuckle as he spoke.

“Really? What are we 5?” It was only a tease, but despite the tease he copied your movements, taking your pinky into his.

“Pinky promises are legally binding.” You joked, your smile growing as you giggled, your blush growing darker as well.

You really were gonna be the death of him.

—

Taglist: @tayleighuh @cowboylikeevie @coralineyouareinterribledanger @jukioku @loser-alert @miguel-ohara-eater @serpentstarr @littlexscarletxwitch @darksidescorner @sukioyakio @minimari415

#miguel o hara fanfic #miguel o'hara x reader #miguel o'hara #on thin ice fanfic #spiderman 2099 x reader #astv miguel #astv spiderman 2099 #miguel o’hara au #figure skating au #hockey au #miguel spiderverse #spiderman 2099 #spiderman 2099 fanfic

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shortpplfedup · 1 year

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Ayan being a gremlin to Akk: accurate. Akk being pissy with Aye: also accurate. Getting together isn't a personality transplant operation; they just like kissing each other now they haven't become different people. And people also don't magically know how to be in a relationship, communication and compromise is required. We saw pretty much nothing of established-relationship-post-curse Akk and Ayan in the original series, they literally JUST got together. It's been what, a few weeks in-universe? Maybe a couple months max? Now that they're both starting to heal from their life traumas and out of the pressure cooker of the Suppalo situation and Ayan is reasonably confident that Akk isn't going to end it all, now we are seeing the part where they actually figure out how to be in a relationship with each other (well, some of the early calculus).

These two have ZERO clue how to navigate a relationship. Akk's repressed ass couldn't even acknowledge to himself that he had any kind of romantic inclinations towards anybody until basically moments ago. He is just starting to understand his needs in a relationship through his relationship with Ayan, a person he has never felt the need to people-please with, so yeah, he's salty and snapping. As for Ayan, he's learning that Akk isn't this way because of the circumstances or the environment, he's just like this. He cares about everything and everyone while Ayan cares about what and who he cares about and doesn't really give a rip about the rest of it. There is an intersection there, because what and who he cares about is Akk, but they haven't gotten to that intersection yet where they actually understand what the other person is REALLY asking for. Akk wants Ayan to care more and be less standoffish and more engaged. Ayan wants Akk to care less and be more self-protective and less self-sacrificing.

That general approach is also bleeding into the relationship. Akk wants Ayan to be softer with him (like he was when he was worried he was gonna hurt himself) and Ayan wants Akk to be tougher with him (like he was when he was worried he was gonna tear down everything). It's not an insurmountable problem, but it will require them to use their words, absorb the implications and deliberately alter their behaviours.

Akk's people-pleasing (Ayan's gripe is literally that Akk cares too much about others) and Ayan's self-centredness (Akk's gripe is that Ayan considers himself too much and others not enough) are canon. This is literally what brought them into each other's attention in the first place: Ayan doing whatever he wanted and Akk being pissed about it. Add in that Ayan enjoys riling Akk up for horny reasons and Akk softens whenever Ayan gets affectionate with him. Add in that Ayan has seen in 4k the extreme consequences of Akk's people-pleasing (the literal campaign of terror he rained on an entire school, lest we forget), just like Akk has seen the consequences of Ayan's self-centredness (Thua's anger at Ayan's hypocrisy of staying in while pushing others out).

They just like each other. They haven't become different people. And they now have to learn how to communicate and compromise because liking each other means they care about not hurting each other. Which is one of the themes of the special. One of the things @bengiyo says over and over again on @the-conversation-pod is DICK IS NOT MAGICAL IT DOES NOT FIX YOU. It's why we both bonded over loving drama about staying together more than drama about getting together. This is so intriguing to me, watching this play out, because this is the part romances tend to ignore, either because they end before they get here, or they gloss over here with a time skip. As somebody invested in the intricacies of long-term relationships and the compromises people make or don't make along the way, this is working all over for me.

#our skyy 2 #our skyy x the eclipse #the eclipse #the eclipse series

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lassoways · 11 months

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true blue

chapter one: say anything

word count: 3.5k

warnings: cursing, suggestive content at the end but no actual smut, reader and jamie are grumpy and need hugs

masterlist | series playlist

say anything - girl in red

“So, will I be seeing you at Sam’s party tonight after the game then?”

Keely asks, playing with a strand of your hair affectionately. The two of you are standing in the hallway outside of your office at Nelson Road. You lean against the wall beside you, giving her a noncommittal shrug.

“I don’t know. I was thinking of just staying in tonight.”

She frowns at this. “Oh, come on, babes! We have to support Sam’s new restaurant and besides,” she leans in and whispers as if she’s about to tell a salacious secret, “I was gonna invite a client of mine who is proper fit and I think you two would just hit it right off!”

You groan. “Oh, Keely, no! I told you no more match ups.”

You cringed at the thought of the last bloke she tried to set you up with. He cared more about your footballer brother than anything to do with you and the night eventually ended with you telling him to ‘fuck off and go date my brother if you love him so much’.

Keely’s frown deepens, puppy dog eyes staring straight into your soul. “Will you come if I don’t invite him?”

You sigh, looking down at your paperwork on the clipboard in your hands, chewing the inside of your cheek. You glance back over to her, those big puppy eyes still working their magic and you give her a weak smile. “Okay, fine.”

She squeals, pulling you into a hug and you smile into her shoulder. You pull away, about to make a comment about how you have nothing to wear to the party tonight, but you’re interrupted by an annoying voice emerging from behind.

“Good morning, Keely!” Jamie Tartt strolls down the hallway, a sports bag slung over his shoulder. He pauses in front of the two of you, giving Keely a cheeky grin before turning to you with a less than enthusiastic face and a curt nod, muttering your name as a greeting. You grunt in response.

You’ve known Jamie ever since you started as AFC Richmond’s physiotherapist just a few months before he left for Man City, and you have never gotten along since - though your dislike for him goes even further back than that. Jamie and your brother have a rather public and long-going distaste for each other, and as a loyal sister, you have a distaste for anybody that is a prick to your family. And so, you and Jamie are constantly at each other’s necks, doing whatever to get under the other’s skin.

“Hi, Jamie!” Keely greets, chipper as ever.

You resist the urge to roll your eyes, and instead look him up and down, keying in on his regular clothes and bag. “Are you just now getting here? It’s a game day.”

He scoffs, holding his hands up. “Chill. The star player just needed a couple more minutes of beauty sleep, is all.”

You feign confusion, “But Zava’s already here, and he looks plenty rested.”

Keely jumps to change the subject. “Jamie, you know my client, the one who runs that sock company! Don’t you think they'd hit it off?” She motioned towards you and you mentally curse at her.

He looks you up and down and you start to scowl at the smirk taking form on his face. You already know he’s going to say something stupid. He looks at Keely and shakes his head, looking so smug. “Nah, I don’t think he’s into nagging know-it-alls.”

Keely jumps between you two before you can open your mouth to fight back. “Okay, Jamie, good luck today! Bye!”

She turns to face you as Jamie walks away. “I take it you two still hate each other?”

She started her own PR firm recently and hasn’t been around the office much. She hoped the two of you would have magically worked through this shit by now, but that clearly wasn’t the case. She knew Jamie had grown so much lately, but for some reason, he was still the same old prick to you.

You scoff. “I’m a professional, Keely. I don’t hate any of my patients.”

She gives a knowing look. You feel like you’re being scolded or something.

“He’s gotten so much better lately, though.” Keely reasons.

You hum, uninterested. “I’ve yet to see all these ‘improvements’ everyone speaks of.”

“Come on, just give him a chance. You two might surprise each other.” She sighs, giving you a squeeze on the shoulder. “I should go meet Rebecca upstairs. We’ll see you after the game, yeah?”

You give her a reassuring smile before returning to your office. Game days meant you had to be ready at the drop of a hat in case an injury happened on the pitch. Putting your headphones in, you focused on getting all of your supplies in order for the big day.

It was no surprise that Richmond won. With Zava joining Richmond as their true knight in shining armour, the team had been victorious once again, continuing their win streak. And while you were very pleased for your team, especially since nobody came out of the game with any serious injuries, you knew this meant there was no way you could bail on the party tonight. With everybody in the mood to celebrate, it would be impossible to stay under the radar and not attend, not if Keely had anything to say about it.

So that’s why you were at Ola’s, nursing your second glass of champagne in a black slip dress that felt all too uncomfortable compared to the sweatpants you wish you were in on your couch. Keely and Rebecca babbled on next to you about one of Keely’s recent photo shoots for a client of hers, and you offered a chuckle or a gasp when necessary, otherwise remaining silent beside your friends.

“Alright, that’s it.” Rebecca sat her drink down, pointing a beautifully manicured finger at you, “What on earth has gotten into you lately? You’ve been loafing around for weeks.”

“I have not been loafing,” You had definitely been loafing. “I’ve just been feeling… a little uninspired with life lately, I suppose.”

“That break up really got to you, eh?” Keely inquires, a sympathetic smile on her face. You shake your head.

“No, it’s not that.” You pause, looking down at your drink. “Okay, maybe a little. It’s not like we were together long or anything, but now I’m just in such a funk and I can’t get out of it.”

Rebecca nods, “I totally understand. But that guy was a twat, and you, my dear, are a bad bitch.” She turns to Keely with a sly grin. “Keely, do you know the best way to get out of a funk?”

Your two friends turn to you after sharing a glance, suspicious gleams in their eyes. Keely wiggles her eyebrows as she declares, “The best way to get out of a funk is to have absolutely mind-blowing sex!”

You snicker. “Eh, I think I’m going to take a break from dating for a little bit.”

Rebecca laughs, grabbing your hand from across the table. “My dear, you don’t need to be dating to have mind-blowing sex.”

You roll your eyes, standing from the table and out of Rebecca’s grasp. “I know, I know. I’m going to get another drink, I need a break from you filthy lot.” You chuckle to yourself as they gasp, but escape to the bar before they can argue with you.

With a fresh drink in hand, you glanced around the restaurant. The entire team and their friends were scattered throughout the restaurant, the sounds of laughter filling the area. Your brother sat in a booth adjacent to you, and when you met eyes with him, he raised his glass to you with a smile (well, as much of a smile as Roy Kent can give). You raise your glass back before taking a large swig of your drink. Turning, your gaze fell on a table off in the corner, with a miserable looking Jamie Tartt sitting by himself.

You sauntered over. If anything could make you feel better, giving Jamie some shit would certainly do it. When you sit beside him, he barely looks up from his plate, too busy scooting around a piece of meat with his fork.

“It’s not polite to play with your food.” You tease.

He pauses before dropping his fork with a loud clatter against the plate. “Piss off.”

You reach over to poke at his grumpy face and he swats you away. You frown. “Didn’t you guys just win? Shouldn’t you be happy?”

Jamie shakes his head, leaning back into his chair with an exasperated sigh. His eyes narrowed, looking past you. “Not much to be happy about right now, eh? I ain’t done nothin’ to help ‘em win.”

You followed his gaze and your mouth made an ‘o’ when you saw the target of Jamie’s glares. Zava, Richmond’s new star player, had undeniably been stealing Jamie’s thunder since he joined the team and was largely responsible for Richmond’s uptick in victories. You know Jamie was jealous of this, you’d heard your brother mention it here and there, but you had no idea it was getting to Jamie this badly.

You turned to face Jamie, still slumped in his seat. On a normal day, you would have helped dig him deeper into this hole with a snide comment or two about how much better Zava was than him, but as you watched him sit there looking so sad, so pathetic, so absolutely miserable, your best friend's words rang in your ears. Just give him a chance.

You took another big sip of your drink. Liquid courage. You sigh. “You’re a great footballer, Jamie. I think you can be better than him. And besides, he’s a moron.”

His eyes softened, staring at you in disbelief. Maybe the alcohol was tricking your brain, but you could have sworn there was a slight blush creeping onto his cheeks. He started to grin, “Wow, two Kent siblings nice to me in one night? ‘M I being punked right now?”

You reach over and hit his shoulder. It wasn’t hard by any means, but he still rubs at the spot with a feigned hurt. “What did Roy say?”

“He offered to train me.” He sits a little straighter in his chair. You could tell he was trying to hide his smile.

You gasp, “Is hell freezing over?”

He lets out a laugh, probably the first genuine laugh he’s had all day. It makes you smile. “That’s what I’m saying!” He exclaims.

The two of you stay like that for a while. Off at the corner table in what felt like your own little world, joking about your sour puss of a brother, or how much of a self-righteous twat Zava is. You felt a pang in your chest as you began to realize that Keely was right, maybe Jamie really has changed. For the better. And you were just constantly tearing him down, never giving him a real chance to show you he was different now.

Jamie noticed your face falter, his eyebrows scrunching in concern. “You okay? You look like someone just pissed in ‘ya wheaties all ‘a sudden.”

You shake your head, taking the final sip of your drink and setting the glass down. “No, no. I just.. I think I'm gonna head home. I’m pretty tired.”

“Do you like ice cream?”

His question catches you off guard and you think it must be the beginning of a bad joke or something. You search his face, but when you don’t see any signs of humour, you realize he’s serious.

“I love ice cream.”

“Me too, and your cunt of a brother says my diet starts tonight but what he doesn’t know won’t kill ‘em, right? ‘Cuz I am absolutely craving ice cream right now.” He’s still looking at you intently. You feel like it’s starting to get too hot in the restaurant.

You nod.

“So what I'm thinkin’ is we go grab some ice cream at that shop around the corner and then I can walk you home.”

He says it so matter of fact, like it wasn’t a big deal at all. Like the two of you have been friends all along. You smile, “You don’t have to walk me home.”

Jamie waves you off. “Nah, it’s on me way so there’s no reason for me not to.”

“How do you know where I live?”

He laughs. “Don’t act all panicked or nothin’, I just remember havin’ to pick up Keely from your place one time, is all.”

Your eyes narrow. “Sure, Jamie. But if you’re gonna murder me, the least you can do is buy my ice cream first.”

He stands, looking down at you. “I was already planning on doin’ that, love.”

You ignore the way that pet name makes you feel, the way it spreads heat all through your body. The champagne was definitely getting to you. You stand too, tilting your head up at him with a sly smile. “Oh, you’re pannin’ on murdering me?”

He shoves at you playfully and you shove back. “Meet me out front. I gotta go say bye to Sam.” He says.

You nod, going your separate ways in the restaurant. You walk up to Roy and give him a hug, telling him no, you don’t need him to walk you home and yes, you will let him know when you get home safe. After quick hugs and kisses with Keely and Rebecca, you were standing outside Ola’s and beginning to feel incredibly stupid as you waited for Jamie.

Were you really about to go get ice cream with Jamie fucking Tartt? Were you trying to pretend you were suddenly best of friends or some shit, when just this morning you despised him? Looking around, you wondered how bad it would be to just start walking home without him.

“‘M so fuckin’ excited for some ice cream.”

He shoots you a wide grin as he walks out of the restaurant, starting off towards the ice cream shop. When he realizes you aren’t walking with him, he spins on his heel, lips pursed. “You comin’?”

You shake yourself from your thoughts, moving fast to catch up with him. “Y-yeah, I’m comin!”

As he said he would, Jamie pays for your ice cream. He gets two scoops of rocky road, his favorite he says, and he calls you “diabolical” when you pick mint chocolate chip. You walk in step with him towards your apartment, enjoying your dessert and to your surprise, the company. It was amazing how well you got on with Jamie when you weren’t busy pissing eachother off. The whole thing still gave you a nasty feeling in the pit of your stomach and you knew you had to apologize for your shitty behavior.

After a while, your conversation enters a lull but you feel comfortable in the silence, happily eating away at your ice cream. He draws your attention back with the clearing of his throat, and you can feel his eyes on you. “Er, can I ask you somethin’?” He asks.

“Sure, what’s up?”

You can tell whatever he’s about to ask, he’s thinking of the best way to say it, chewing on the inside of his lip for a moment. “What’s had ‘ya feelin’ so down lately?”

It catches you off guard and it must have shown on your face. He continues, “Oh, c’mon. Everyone has been noticin’ how down in the dumps ‘ye are.”

You sigh and take a bite of ice cream. “I suppose I just haven’t been feeling like myself these days. It’s just a funk, I’ll get out of it.”

“It’s ‘cuz of your break-up, yeah?”

You snap your head towards him. “How do you know about that?”

Jamie scratches the back of his head sheepishly, “I overheard Roy and Keely talkin’ about it the other day - about how he was an asshole to ‘ya.”

You couldn’t disagree. Your ex might be the biggest asshole you know, and that’s saying a lot coming from someone related to Roy Kent. Nodding, you say, “He was an asshole.”

He hums in agreement, not pressing you any further, taking another bite of his dessert. The two of you are silent again until you finally speak up. “I guess, yeah, I have been a bit sad lately.” You stop walking, gathering your thoughts and he stops too, turning to face you. “I’m not so much sad that we broke up because everyone’s right, he was an asshole, but he was so good at making me feel like shit and now I don’t know how…” you pause. “I don’t know how to not feel like shit anymore. And that makes me sad.”

Finally getting that off your chest feels nice, and your amazed at how much better you feel just telling someone, anyone, even Jamie fucking Tartt. His gaze is soft and you can tell he feels bad for you. You look away. You can feel your body folding in on itself, arms crossing your chest.

“You know, someone told me once that the only thing worse than being sad is being sad and alone.” Jamie says, and you peel your eyes off your shoes to look back up at him. “And I guess I just wanna say that ‘ya not alone, ‘ya get what I mean? You have Roy, and Keely, and Rebecca, and uh.. I’m here too.”

You smile, beginning to walk again. You reach over, giving his shoulder a light push. “You know what, Jamie? You’re not so bad.”

“Oh, why thank you!” He flashes you a big, cheeky grin as he pops you on the nose. “I actually pride meself on being the ‘not so bad’-est.”

When you reach your front door, you turn to face him, swallowing hard as you go over the apology you had been writing in your head the whole walk home. He beats you to speak though, nervously scratching the back of his head.

“Listen, I, uh, I wanted to say I’m sorry for being such a prick to ‘ya. I’ve been trying so hard to be a better person lately but I dug meself in such a deep hole with you that I didn’t know what to even do, so I just kept bein’ an asshole and it was shitty and you don’t deserve that and-”

“Jamie,” you try to interrupt him but he doesn’t let you, continuing his rambles.

“And I didn’t mean what I said this mornin’ neither. You’re not naggy or a know-it-all. You’re smart and good at your job and-”

“Jamie,” you say again, louder. You step closer to get his attention, grabbing him by the sleeve on his wrist. You can smell his cologne, cedarwood and citrus. “I’m sorry, too. I’m always a dick to you, I never even gave you a chance to show me you’ve changed. And you have, by the way. You’ve changed.”

His eyes soften. You can see on his face he’s relieved, happy that you’ve acknowledged how hard he’s worked to be a different person, a better person. He speaks quietly, just barely above a whisper and you wouldn’t have been able to hear him if he wasn’t so close to you right now. “Thank you.”

The two of you stay like that for a moment too long, eyes boring into each other. You’ve always known he was handsome, but right now on your doorstep, the moonlight shining on him, he was breathtaking. You hadn’t realized he took a step closer until you could feel his breath on your face, the smell of his cologne becoming even stronger. You watched his gaze go to your lips for a split second before looking back into your eyes and you knew right then you were fucked.

In an instant, you close the gap between you two. He wastes no time kissing you back, his hands grabbing your waist, yours wrapping around his neck. The kiss doesn’t last nearly as long as it should, and you don’t miss the small noise he makes when you pull away, your hands pushing gently on his chest. “I’m-i’m sorry. I shouldn’t have-”

Jamie cups your face, forcing you to look up at him. “No more apologies, yeah?.”

And his lips were on yours once again. This time your hands were scrambling all over each other, desperate to touch as much as you can. His hands are everywhere, the nape of your neck, your hips, sliding down to cup your ass through the fabric of your dress. When you gasp, his tongue enters your mouth and you’re overwhelmed by the taste of him, the smell of him, the feeling of him.

One hand reaches up to the hair at the back of his head, giving it a soft tug. You can’t help but smile against his lips at the moan he lets out, and he responds by pushing you up against your door, his lips moving to your cheek, your jaw, your neck, peppering kisses everywhere he can reach until he’s kissing your lips once more. You break from the kiss, just barely, and through heavy breaths you ask, “Do you want to come inside?”

#jamie tartt x reader #jamie tartt #jamie tartt fic #ted lasso #roy kent

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pimosworld · 11 months

Text

The story of us chapter 3

Pairing -Triple frontier boys x f!reader

Summary-Set before the reader and the boys are officially together and how it all came to be.

CW-18+,MDNI,individual warnings for each chapter.Angst,fluff,comfort,mentions of ptsd,cursing,mlm, brief mention of homophobia,mentions of sex, canon events,we hate tom. Please let me know if I forgot any warnings.

WC-3.7k

Chapter Summary- The boys discuss your future and your past.

Not beta read

Notes-See Masterlist for full story notes

[Series Masterlist]

Chapter III The deal is off

——————————————

The further he gets from your house the more you feel the weight lifting off your shoulders. You glance up at Benny watching his eyes as he makes sure your boyfriend ex gets in his car and drives away. You don’t know if he even realizes he’s rubbing soothing circles on your shoulder to steadily ground himself.

“I hope you don’t mind if we stay?” He glances at you with those puppy dog eyes and you can’t resist.

“I would be upset if you wanted to leave.” You can feel him relax against you as he breathes a sigh of relief.

“Come on honey, let's go inside.” You’re too exhausted to notice him helping you through the most menial task of standing and walking inside your own house.

As you enter you see Frankie putting your table where it should be and Will surveying the hole in your wall and Santi…grabbing his keys? Of course he was leaving, all of this was too much. You couldn’t ask him to stay after dealing with your shitty ex. His eyes meet yours and you desperately try to wipe the tears welling in your eyes,putting on the best Im okay smile you can muster.

As if he can read your mind he strides over to you with confidence as he pulls you into a tight hug. You can smell his cologne on his neck as he cradles the back of your head with one hand and places a soft kiss on your temple.

“Cariño I’m not leaving, I just need to grab something from the truck.” You reluctantly let him go and have a seat on your couch.

The events of the last few hours seem like a blur. You have so many questions you need answers too but is now even the right time to ask? What are these feelings you have brewing for the men you’ve known your entire adult life? It has to be the vulnerable state you’re in causing these inappropriate thoughts. You had a boyfriend less than ten minutes ago. A poor excuse for one and frankly seemed like your only option.

You’re pulled from your thoughts when Benny plops down next to you and grabs the remote. Frankie sits on the other side of you and pulls you against his broad chest relaxing against the arm rest. Okay so we’re not going to talk about it…that’s fine with me.

“I’m gonna come fix the hole on Friday, it’s my day off.” Will states as he makes his way to the kitchen to grab some beers from your fridge. You’ve missed the way they all fit into your life so easily. You’re trying your best to choke back the tears that have been threatening to spill since they arrived.

Santi toes the door open with his boot as his arms are full of grocery bags. “ I got all your favorites honey.” You can feel the lump tightening in your throat and your chest constricting-what is happening?

“Well I know what we’re watching.” Benny smiles at you as he selects the Mummy your favorite from the Netflix recently watched list.

You’re getting hot and they feel too close, it’s all too much. Not addressing the elephant in the room shouldn’t be this hard but it’s making your skin crawl.

Will comes over and hands Benny a beer as he gets comfortable on the loveseat. “I think Santi is making you something stronger.” He winks at you and you’re grateful you’re seated because you would have been in a puddle on the floor at that moment. Are they doing this on purpose?

Santi rounds the couch and sets his beer and your margarita on the coffee table.

“You’re in my seat.”

“Come on man there are no assigned seats.” Ben whines as he slumps down to the floor in front of you. Always doing as he’s told despite the protests.

You’re surely on the verge of a heart attack as the pain surges through your chest. The lump in your throat makes it hard to swallow and you don’t know how long you’ve been holding your breath.

Frankie senses too late what is happening as you stiffen against him, your shirt is clinging to you and your breaths have become ragged, you grip his thigh trying to ground yourself as the pressure consumes you.

“Honey?” You don’t hear him call you as he leans in, drowned out by your own thoughts of why you deserve this treatment. Too caught up in your self loathing to comprehend that they’re trying to pull you out.

Santi hands you a Reese's, your favorite candy. You stare with your palm open like it holds all of life’s answers. The damn breaks as you sob into Frankie’s chest. They’re all staring at you wide eyed and concerned as he consoles you.

“Shhh… I know it’s a lot. It’s gonna be ok hermosa.”

He knows all too well how it feels when you're drowning above water. No one can see the signs until it’s too late. The feeling like you’re suffocating but you have plenty of oxygen at your disposal. Every breath you take isn’t enough to stop the barrage of tears once they start.

“I told you to get sour patch kids.” Ben half whispers to Santi. Your crying turns to laughter and you’re sure they’re convinced you’ve lost your mind.

You take a few deep breaths into Frankie’s chest, inhaling his woodsy scent and faintly hearing his coaching your breathing. You can feel the steady rise and the fall of his chest.

“Thank you.” You say barely above a whisper.

Frankie squeezes your shoulder simultaneously with Santi squeezing your leg. A calm silence falls over the group as the tension recedes from your body.

“Sweetheart you don’t have to thank us, you’ve saved us more times than this.” Will…always the voice of reason. “This is our fault.” You open your mouth to protest but he raises a gentle hand.

“We’ve let you save us too many times, we’ve become so reliant on you that we failed to see when you needed us.”

You don’t really know what to say at this moment so you open your favorite candy and take a bite. It’s never tasted this good. You give Benny the other half as he half bites your finger causing you to giggle. You offer one to Frankie and he happily obliges.

“Mmm my guilty pleasure.” The double meaning is lost on you.

You offer one to Will and your fingers brush as he takes it from you. “Only because you offered.” Ever the gentleman.

“Before you even offer I’m not eating it.” Stubborn as a mule.

“Santiago…if you don’t take it I'm going to cry again.” Not your best tactic but it will surely work.

He groans in protest as he takes it from your hand.

“You have to eat it too.” Frankie barks out a laugh that makes you swell with pride.

“That’s my girl.” He whispers in your ear as he squeezes your waist. The barrage of emotions you’re feeling right now can only be described as delirium.

“As you wish for cariño.” Santi slowly puts the chocolate in his mouth, not breaking eye contact. The air in the room is leaving for completely different reasons. You are in trouble

Three margaritas deep and your sadness has quickly been replaced by your drunken state.

“Please just admit they’re all hot.”

“Honey, you say this every time we watch this.” Benny is resting his head on the cushion between you and Frankie.

You’re playing with his hair as he leans into your touch.

“Tell me…you don’t think they’re attractive?” The alcohol has you feeling a little bold and relaxed. Something you haven’t felt in weeks.

“Oh they’re definitely attractive…so how did you end up with Mike if you find them attractive?” Frankie slaps him in the back of his head as a hush falls over the room.

He’s right, how did you end up with him? You can’t even be mad at his question. You can however dish it back.

“I can’t date all of you and evidently you’re the most eligible bachelors in town…so the rest of us get Mike and people like him.”

You miss the knowing glances they all send each other as your head slumps back on Frankie’s shoulder.

You don’t know when you fell asleep or how you ended up tucked into your bed but a sudden panic falls over you at the thought of being alone. That is until you hear the low sounds of the tv still on in your living room and the not so quiet sound of Benny's voice. You can sleep peacefully knowing they would never leave.

****

“Will you lower your voice,you’re gonna wake her up.” Santi bristles at Benny as he emerges from your kitchen with more beers.

Benny has had his fair share of tequila and can’t possibly be in control of the octave in his voice.

“Listen…all I’m saying is we already spend every moment of our lives together,it wouldn’t be that big a deal.” He’s half whispering and shouting and his brother just rolls his eyes.

“No.” Santi deadpans just staring at the tv, anything to take his mind off the ridiculous proposal from Benny. He looks to Frankie for some help but he’s too preoccupied with the animated way Benny is flailing his arms as he talks and he knows he’s lost his comrade to the tequila as well. He’s seen that look in Frankie’s eyes so many times. The look he’s given him when he’s feeling flirtatious. The look you all give each other from time to time.

“I don’t recall you being the boss of me Santiago.” He says in a sing-song tone, Frankie can’t help the giggle that escapes him watching the antics unfold.

“You’re outnumbered anyway,Frankie was already planning on asking her out and I know my brother is in love with her.”

“Leave me out of this.” Will says half asleep from the loveseat.

“I would rather have her in my life and be alone than not have her in my life at all if me or any of you idiots broke her heart.”

A silence falls over the room as they all ponder what life would be like without you in it.

Surprisingly Frankie breaks the silence first before Benny can cause anymore annoyance to his half drunk and sleepy cohorts.

“We almost didn’t have her in our lives because of that asshole…so I’m willing to try and see where this goes.”

Santi huffs a laugh to himself as he runs his hands down his face. “And you’re both gonna be fine with whoever she chooses?” The question on everyone’s minds lingers in the air.

“I trust you guys more than anyone and I’d be happier if she was with one of us than some guy I know would break her heart.” Benny always wore his heart on his sleeve,never backing down to defend one of them or you.

“Fine…do what you want but when it all blows up in our faces just know I will never forgive you for ruining what he had.”

Benny leans back against Frankie on the couch, a triumphant grin on his face as he’s lulled to sleep by the rise and fall of his chest. He is so content like this, dreaming of you and finally able to relax for the first time in weeks knowing you’re safe and he has everything he could ever ask for under one roof.

It’s settled then, the deal is off.

***

10 years ago

They’re all crowded into the mess hall after another boring day of cleaning and bitch work. The air is thick with tension since they haven’t been on assignment in weeks, not since Frankie’s near death injury. Frankie wasn’t thinking clearly when he was stabbed in the side, he hadn’t properly swept the room…preoccupied with his thoughts after hearing a gunshot close by and wondering if it was Santi or Benny injured. He doesn’t know when things started to shift for him but as the weeks went on he felt more than friendship for his comrades. It nearly got him killed.

Frankie’s never been that close to death and Santi has been distant since. The thought of losing him pushed feelings to the surface he’s never felt before. He didn’t know how to handle them, of course he loved his friends and would lay down his life for them but this was something else. He was never good at addressing his feelings and so he ran. He couldn’t physically go anywhere so into his mind he went.

It made everyone on edge, Frankie had a sadness in his eyes and Benny wanted to help him anyway he can but he pushed him away. They were all fracturing as though weeks prior they weren’t the closest they’ve ever been.

Will constantly snapped at his brother telling him to get his shit together, Tom snapped at all of them for being so caught up in anything besides their jobs. They were acting anything but the special ops soldiers that they were. Too many feelings were involved causing them to implode.

“Davis,Garcia,Morales,Millers…report to the briefing room nineteen hundred hours.” The sound of the lieutenant colonel causing a bush to fall over the room. He exits swiftly on his feet in his crisp army fatigues.

“Fuck.” Tom says not so quietly “I knew you guys were gonna fuck this up acting all weird.”

“Fuck you.” Frankie spits back at Tom as he stands with his tray to leave the hall. Santi and Benny can’t hide the grin spreading across their faces. It’s the most he’s said in weeks and they’ll cling to that small gesture if it’s all they can get.

Benny looks up at Will and sees the heartbreak in his eyes, he knows that being in delta is everything to him, he wishes he could take it as seriously as his brother does. He hopes things haven’t been ruined for all of them and he vows to try harder for him if they can get a second chance. He mouths a silent “I’m sorry.” To his brother which he returns with a smile and for the first time in weeks Ben feels like he can breathe a little.

They’re all silent as they make their way to the briefing room, the unanswered question looming among them. A million thoughts swimming in their head about their future. Would they be disciplined?demoted?discharged? None of it feels right to think about.

Of course they arrive 15 minutes early, all of them too nervous to wait any longer. As they approach the room a soft voice is heard through the door followed by laughter from the colonel. He’s laughing? They didn’t think the man was capable of anything but surly disposition. They exchange confused glances amongst each other as Tom opens the door first.

You’re leaning against the desk with your arms folded across your chest, the crinkle in your eyes and the small dimple in your cheeks is the least distracting thing about you as you laugh at something the colonel said. The standard issue army shirt and pants do nothing to hide your figure and it takes Frankie a moment to realize Tom is the only one seated at the desks.

You turn to face them as the four men are left gaping in the doorway like fools.

“Have a seat.” The colonel pulls them from their thoughts as you clear your throat and stand at attention in the front of the room. The smile has dropped from your face as you level them with your intense gaze. Intentionally making eye contact with each of them as they move to sit down.

Ben awkwardly crashes into Santi causing the desk to scratch against the floor and he hopes the floor would swallow him whole at this moment.

They’re the picture of imperfection and the farthest thing from highly trained soldiers, looking at the moment more like highschool teenagers. You drop your head to crack a smile but Will catches the way you clear your throat to disguise the laughter.

“Gentleman, this is your new combat medic, I wanted you all to meet and become acquainted before your new assignment next week.” The colonel says your name and Santi is repeating it in his head as many times as necessary so as not to forget, he wasn’t always good with names but he didn’t want to forget yours.

Frankie’s mind drifts elsewhere as relief floods him knowing they wouldn’t be disciplined for whatever he thought the military knew about his their situation. He feels a little bad that the previous medic had been discharged but it was her job to try and save their lives in the event something happened. He thought that day may have been his last as he watched her shakily stitch him up and eventually Will moved her out of the way and finished opting for his horrible stitch job and steady hands to hers.

“You can talk in here but be back to your quarters before curfew,understood.”

A resounding yes sir from the group and he’s exiting the room but not before he smiles at you.

Santi notices and thinks how wildly inappropriate it may have been or maybe his mind was playing tricks on him, but he can’t necessarily blame the colonel for shameless flirting. There was a draw about you that he couldn’t shake.

“I’m Sant-

“Im Fran-

They begin introductions at once and you can’t help the giggle that escapes you at their eagerness. Santi glares at his friend and Frankie raises his hand in mock surrender.

“I’m Santiago Garcia but you can call me pope.”

“I’m Will and that’s my brother Benny.”

“I’m Fraancisco Morales but you can call me Frankie.” He blushes slightly and you’re unsure why he would be embarrassed by his name.

As if on cue Benny clears his throat “You can call him Fish actually.” Frankie groans and raises his hand to shield his face from you.

“I’ll kill you” he mouths to Benny and any nerves you had for this introduction and joining this tight knit group are slowly dissipating.

You don’t have the heart to tell them the colonel has already told you as much as he could about each of them and of course that included their names. You knew as much about each of them as a small file could tell you except for the fact that they were distractingly handsome and beautiful.

It’s almost unreal that they all ended up together as if they were some inappropriate military calendar that you could buy at the cheap corner store. Even Tom who has yet to introduce himself had some appeal.

“So what are your qualifications?”

Maybe not

“You must be Tom.” He gapes at you unsure of how you knew his name, before he can open his mouth for a reply you raise your hand at him.

You walk the short distance to the desk he’s seated at as you place your hands on the front coming almost eye level with him.

“I wouldn’t be here if I wasn’t qualified and I certainly don’t need to list my years of experience or accolades to you. The colonel isn’t going to send me home because for some reason you might not like me or deem me to be unfit.”

It’s embarrassing and Frankie is grateful to whatever god above that your attention is honed in on Tom as he adjusts the growing bulge in his pants at your unwillingness to back down from a challenge.

“I’m only going to say this once, when you’re bleeding out from a stab wound or a gunshot, I’m the one you want by your side.” You lean away from the desk as Tom stands to tower over you. You still don’t shy away as he comes toe to toe with you. You could hear a pin drop as they all hold their breath awaiting his response.

“Honey listen, I’m only going to say this once. I’m the only one in this group that gives orders.” Tom smirks at the rage filling your eyes,hoping he can back you down and thinking he’s successful as you move to leave the room. You stop just short of the door as you turn on your heels.

“If you call me honey again it will be the last time you speak.” He laughs and some of the tension leaves the room as they all let out a breath.

“Sure thing honey bee but I don’t know what you think you’re gonna do.”

You open the door to leave, throwing a mischievous grin over your shoulder. “Bees do sting you know.”

It’s quiet for a moment after you leave, despite Tom's gruff introduction it seems you fit right in.

“We need some rules.” Tom says first and Will nods in agreement.

“Do not fuck her.”

“Jesus Tom who said anything about that.” Frankie should be ashamed for coming back at him so harshly, seeing as though he was having some trouble concealing that he wanted to do just that earlier.

“That was mostly directed at Pope, but after your little injury I figured we needed to lay down some ground rules.”

Santi hangs his head, he can’t protest not with the way his reputation was and the fact that he may have inadvertently played a role in Frankie being injured.

“He’s right,we need to tighten up and get our shit together. We can’t have this getting complicated with our lives on the line and I don’t want to lose another medic.” Will always the voice of reason.

“Okay but what about after?” Benny is half joking,half serious. Will slaps the back of his head as Frankie tries to conceal his laughter.

“No…I don’t care if it’s years down the line, we don’t need to complicate this anymore or ruin any friendships.” It’s the honesty in Santis voice that has Benny and Frankie sure that this is the way it has to be.

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#triple frontier x you #triple frontier x reader #triple frontier x fem reader #triple frontier fanfic #tf boys x reader #tfpoly x reader #frankie morales x reader #santiago x reader #will miller x female reader #benny miller x reader #santiago garcia x you #francisco morales #triple frontier imagine #santiago pope garcia #william ironhead miller #frankie morales fluff

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cevansbrat0007 · 1 year

Text

Warm

Summary: Andy makes you sit through one of his favorite punishments...

Warnings: Smut, Fluff, Cock-Warming, Bratty Reader, Spanking (mentioned), Pussy Spanking, Daddy Kink, Light Degradation, Punishments, Cursing, Lloyd Evans-Drysdale, Minors DNI

A/N: Written for @writer84, @sarahdonald87, @lexivass, an anonymous reader, and several others. Part of my ongoing Growing Pains Series. All mistakes are my own.

___

You let your head rest against the doorframe as you watch your little girl’s eyes slowly fall shut, her quiet breaths evening out as she clings tighter to her stuffed pink cow, Ms. Marie Moo. Rory had woken up less than an hour after you’d tucked her into bed claiming that she and her “best friend” needed a glass of water.

While that certainly wasn’t anything out of the ordinary, her little knock at your husband’s study door had thrown you both for a bit of a loop.

Because you’d been in the middle of one of your discussions at the time. And since it was well past your all of your babies’ respective bedtimes, you hadn’t necessarily anticipated the interruption. Thank goodness you’d at least been able to throw on your robe before unlocking the door. After assuring Andy that the two of you would be quick, you'd ushered her down the hall in the direction of the kitchen.

That had been well over fifteen minutes ago. Which meant that you needed to head back. Casting one last gentle smile in her direction, you blow individual kisses to both of your sleeping daughters, who also happened to share a room. And then you turn on your heel, quietly shutting the door behind you before traipsing back down the stairs to rejoin your man.

Your hands toy with the belt of your plush robe as you round the corner, tugging at the messy knot you’d tied in a hurry. Bracing yourself for what’s to come, you stride through the still open door before shutting and locking it behind you.

“Hey, baby girl.” Andy greets you from his place behind his imposing mahogany desk. “I thought I was gonna have to come looking for you.” He takes a sip of the whiskey you’d dutifully poured for him before you’d been distracted by your child.

“Oh no…just had to tuck her back in. And then we accidentally left poor Marie Moo behind on the counter, so I had to double back.” You go to take a seat opposite him, only to stop at the quirk of one tawny, challenging brow.

Oops.

“Sorry, Daddy.” You mumble as you make quick work of removing your robe before draping it over the small couch located on the other side of the room. He leans back in his chair, his bearded chin resting between his thumb and forefinger as he lazily peruses your naked form.

Andy’s intense gaze fixates on your breasts, watching them bounce gently as you pad towards him. Seconds later, you’re standing in front of your husband, your hands fisted nervously at your sides. Even though this man has seen every inch of you a million times over, you still have to fight the urge to cover yourself.

But you also knew that Andrew Barber wouldn’t tolerate any attempts to hide from him – not that he ever did. Sometimes when was in a mood he would keep you naked in his study the entire night while he reviewed whatever legal documents he’d brought home from the office. Lately, he’d even taken to splaying you out on his desk alongside him while he worked. That way he could stop and play with you whenever he needed a break. Or, as he so often put it…

So that he could enjoy his favorite treat.

“God, I’m so lucky.” Andy purrs as one of his big hands palms his erection, even as the other reaches for your special notebook. “You ready to try this again, little love?” He holds it up, the glossy cover you’d designed gleaming in the light.

“Yes, please.” You nod. “Can I, um…I mean may I…um…”

“Use your big girl words, sweetheart.” There’s no mistaking the mocking edge to his tone. “You can do it.”

You blow out a sharp breath as you will yourself to start over.

“Um, D-daddy. May I please warm your cock while we finish our discussion?” Your newly polished toes dig into the carpet while you await his answer.

“You may.” He places his arms behind his head, his muscles flexing beneath his cotton t-shirt. “Go on and take me out again.”

Sighing, you go to reach inside his sweats, wrapping your hand around his impressive length. You give him a playful squeeze, eliciting a hiss when you finally free him from his pants.

“Good girl. Now go on and have a seat.”

Your teeth graze your bottom lip as you maneuver yourself over his lap. And then you grip him again as you slowly lower yourself onto his thick cock, whimpering softly as you take him inside you.

Inch by delicious inch. Christ he was filling you up just right!

Your walls clench around him as your core spasms against your will – reminding you of just how desperate you were to ride him. Grind against him. Make him go crazy enough to fucking explode and fill you up right.

But once again, you knew better than to move without permission. Your Daddy could thrust in and out of you all he liked, but you weren’t allowed to do a damn thing without his permission. Unless you fancied earning yourself a sore bottom. Not to mention that it had been three – no wait, almost four days – since your last spanking and you had no desire to ruin your hot streak.

“You feel so good, baby.” You tell him, your head lolling backwards against his solid chest. “Sir? Can I–can I please move? Maybe just a little bit?”

Andy’s hands go to your hips, his long fingers digging into your flesh as he playfully thrusts once, then twice. “Now, that’s all you get until we’re finished with your little list.” He smacks your thigh for good measure, making you cry out. “Assuming it is finished, of course.”

“It is. I–ooh.” You find yourself squirming in his lap. “I did it last night–just like I said I would.” You have to bite the inside of your cheek to keep from whining. Especially when he tweaks your nipple before cupping and kneading your breast.

“Need I remind you that you were also a day late?” He presses a kiss to your throat, making you shudder when his bearded chin lightly scrapes over your thrumming pulse.

“I’m sorry, Sir. But I wanted to make sure it was good.” Your man’s hand caresses its way down your body, only stopping when he reaches that sweet, wet juncture between your thighs. The pads of his fingers swirl over your sensitive bundle of nerves, loving the little sounds you make as you try to fight the bright onslaught of pleasure.

“I know.” Andy taps your clit, making you jerk and clench on his cock. “Stay still, brat.” He grunts, pinching you roughly. “You just worry about keeping me nice and warm deep inside my pretty pussy while we go over your apology list. And if you’ve done a good job –” he bounces you then, groaning as your walls milk him for all he’s worth. “I’ll give you the ride you’ve been asking for, okay?”

“Mmhm.” You hum, picking up the notebook and flipping it open to the appropriate page.

“And just how many items did you manage to include on this apology list of yours, baby girl?” His talented fingers stroke their way across your soft belly, before coming to rest just above your abdomen. “Hope it’s more than two, otherwise Daddy isn’t gonna be very happy with his baby.”

There was a time when you had to stop yourself from flinching, or curling into yourself whenever he touched you there. It had been after the birth of the twins. You’d found yourself struggling with your self-image back then. You’d hated the way you looked, to the point where you almost couldn’t fathom how or why your husband was still attracted to you.

But Andy had helped you through it all. Reminding you again and again of just how much you meant to him. How much he loved and worshiped you, not just as the mother of his children – but as the woman with whom he had chosen to share his life and his bed.

That night you’d received the green light from your doctor after your babies’ arrival had been nothing short of amazing. He’d been so tender with you, so gentle. But he’d also been very firm about your letting him in.

Letting him adore you. Cherish you.

Until you remembered how to love yourself again. Andy was your man. Your anchor. Your love. And most important of all right now…

He was your Daddy.

“It’s definitely more than two. “See?” You tell him, biting your lip as you show him the page. “I’ve got six. And I was really honest, too.”

Just like he’d told you to be. And the way you saw it, that meant there was no way he could be mad about what you’d written.

Sweat beads across your brow as you shift in Andy’s lap, a strangled mewl catching in your throat. Damn, it was hard to focus like this! Especially, when all you wanted to do turn around and fuck him so long and hard your eyes rolled back in your heads and you both succumbed to unconsciousness.

“I see that, sweet girl. And I have to tell you that I really like your first one.” Your husband pecks your temple. “Proud of you for recognizing that you should have listened to me when you weren’t feeling well. Next time I bet you’ll go to bed when I tell you to, huh?” Another kiss, this time on the apple of your cheek.

“Uh huh.” You murmur, allowing your head to fall back against his broad chest when he gifts you with three short thrusts. “I’m sorry, Sir.”

“Forgiven. Now, onto the next.” Andy grabs your hand, squeezing encouragingly. “Oh yeah, I’m glad to see you being more understanding about our lunch plans. Daddy didn’t like having to cancel with you like that, baby.”

“I know.” You turn your head towards him, offering up your mouth for a kiss. “I do feel really bad about withholding my cuddles. I always forget how pouty you get and – oww!” You squeal when he pinches your side.

“Wrong time to sass me. Keep it up and you’ll leave me no choice but to turn you over my knee.”

“Yes, Daddy. I’m sorry…” You clear your throat, feeling yourself flush. “Do you – I mean…do you want me to add that to my list then?”

Now that earns you a quick slap to your pussy.

“I’m sorry.” You grit out as he pops you again, trying to ignore the way the sharp contact makes your walls contract. “But sometimes I just can’t –”

“Sometimes you just can’t help yourself.” He grumbles. “I know, honey. The same way I knew you were a brat from our very first date.”

All you can do is shrug. “But in my defense, at least I’m cute.” You bat your lashes at him before lightly nipping at his chin. “Plus, I also gave you four babies, I make the best smothered pork chops you’ve ever had, and I look sexy as hell in all of your shirts.”

“See what I’m talking about?” Comes Andy’s throaty growl. “Goddamned brat. And watch your fucking language, before you force me to find a much better use for your disrespectful little mouth. You got that?”

“Yes, Sir.” You breathe, feeling your breasts swell and your nipples harden at his words. “S-sorry, Sir.”

“S’alright. You’re forgiven. It’s not all your fault, especially since I suspect that part of this has to do with that greedy pussy of yours running the show.” He takes a deep breath before moving onto the next apology item on your list. “Okay, number three. I see here you’re apologizing for the…” Your man trails off as he takes another calming breath. “For those fucking spiders.”

“Yep.” You flash him your best, most innocent smile. “I am so very sorry about that. When I heard your panicked screams I…well…it sounded like you were being attacked.”

“I was being attacked, Y/N! By a bunch of stupid fucking spiders that fell out of the cabinet, on top of my head, and onto the floor. And it wasn’t just me! They got Junior too!”

Yes, but unlike his father, your three-year-old had found the whole affair rather funny. He’d cackled his little head off while Andy had practically hyperventilated in the corner. And once he was done, he’d scooped up a bunch before taking off down the hall to show his sisters.

Now they, on the other hand, had reacted more like your poor, flustered husband. Yeah. It was safe to say that he had not been amused. And the way he’d roasted your bottom later on that night had confirmed that fact.

“Yeah. He seemed really disturbed by it.” You deadpan before mentally facepalming.

Shit! There you went again, mouthing off when you were in no position to be cheeky. At this rate, Andrew Barber was never gonna let you cum. And it was going to be your own goddamned fault!

“Err, I’m sorry. What I meant to say was, I shouldn’t have preyed on your fears like that, Daddy. It was wrong of me to do. I know now that I caused you extreme levels of distress. And since you’re getting on in years, I should take more care with your blood pressure. Please accept my apology.”

Andy is quiet for a moment as he mulls over your admission.

“Are my ears deceiving me, or did my sweet girl just make a crack about my age?”

Yes.

“Nope. Didn’t even cross my mind, sweet husband.”

Yes it had. So you did. Maybe you needed mental help.

“W-which brings me to number four.” You bravely forge on, not wanting to give the man time to think. “I’m sorry for going a little feral when you tried to, um, discipline me for that whole spider nonsense.” You let out a surprised yelp when Andy swats your breast.

“You bit me, you little hellcat.” His warm, slightly calloused hand wraps its way around your throat. “Nearly took a chunk out of my left calf.”

“I–I didn’t want to be–ooh!” Andy holds you in place while he moves his hips, teasing you with several tempting thrusts. “I didn’t want to be punished!” You cry, arching your back when he hits that special spot inside of you as white-hot sparks dance behind your eyelids.

“And how’d that go for you?”

“Terrible.” You concede with a gasp. “And then I pinched you. And then I followed it up with that unnecessary quip about you lacking an actual working funny bone.” Oh God! “It was mean spirited of me then, and it sounds just as bad now when I reflect back on it.”

“Sounds to me like you’ve really seen the error of your ways, baby girl.” He rasps as he moves his hand from your throat in favor of stroking your sensitive little clit. “Daddy is quite proud of you.”

“Th-thank you, Sir.” You forced yourself to take a steadying series of breaths. “As for the next one, you really do have my word that I’ll keep working on the–on my, um, n-negative self-talk.”

“Okay.” Andy ceases his movements, knowing you needed to make it through this one without him interrupting. “Keep going for me.”

“I am a good–no. Let me start over. I am a freaking fantastic Mama Bear who adores her children. Having four kids all under ten can be challenging. And there are only so many hours in the day. Which means that I need to give myself a little more credit, along with a healthy dose of grace.”

“There we go, Y/N. There it is. That is exactly what I was looking to hear from you just now.” Andy grips your jaw, tilting your head back just enough to steal himself a kiss. “Do you believe everything that you just said, little love? Because we can keep breaking it down if we need to.”

“No. I honestly don’t think so.” You murmur, your lips softly gliding over his. “But can we maybe revisit this one in a few days?”

You knew there was no way he would possibly say no to that. Andy never allowed himself to forget that you occasionally still struggled in the self-esteem department.

“Alright, put a little star next to it so we can remember that we need to do a brief check-in.” You do as he asks without missing a beat.

“Thank you, Daddy.”

“Anything for my baby girl.” He purrs, his voice deepening with approval. And then his eyes stray to the final item on your list. “And as for this last one regarding that damned Drysdale fucker–”

“Maybe we should just focus on the fact that I openly and knowingly deprived you of blackberry cheesecake.” You quickly interject, wishing you had thought a little more before including the name of your husband’s supposed rival for your affections.

Andy positively loathed Lloyd Evans-Drysdale, which sometimes made things difficult since the aforementioned man also happened to be your favorite actor.

“Or, we could focus on the fact you deprived me of the chance to eat a positively decadent treat off of your delectable little body. All over some pretentious jackass who’s too preoccupied with his fading spotlight to actually care about making a decent film once in a while.”

“I’m so sorry, honey. I know this is a sore spot. And, honestly, I shouldn’t have poked it.” You choke back a sob when he finally begins to move again. Which let you know that he was most likely satisfied with that apology.

“You mean that, little one?” Andy grunts, his arms lacing themselves around your middle as continues to drive into you. You find yourself feeling grateful when he increases his pace, both of you loving the way your messy cunt clings to him, refuses to let go of his thick cock.

“So much, Andy Bear. Am I…am I forgiven then?” You hold your breath.

“Depends.”

"Mm?"

“You owe me one orgasm for each point on that piece of paper.” He nods in the direction of your notebook as he possessively cups your drenched core, shaking his hand back and forth.

“What!” You wail as your eyes fly open. “That’s not even fair!”

That was one hell of a penance, not to mention a ridiculous stipulation to put on any one girl’s pussy at any given time.

“Didn’t ask if it was fair.” Andy hisses as your velvety walls continue to milk him for all he’s worth. “You give me six good, strong orgasms and Daddy will consider the slate wiped clean.”

With a whimper you begin to bounce on his lap, working hard to push yourself closer to the brink. "There we go. Bein' such a good girl for me." Andy praises.

"Now be a doll and turn around. Daddy wants to watch those perfect tits bounce while you use him to fuck yourself senseless."

END

479 notes · View notes

tachimichishrine · 5 months

Note

Q6yuquqjq YOU'RE LIKE THE PERFECT TACHIHARA FANFIC Y/N WRITER I FUCKING LOVE YOU MATE❤️❤️❤️❤️ I have one silly offer, and ofc ofc I'll wait my sweet time for u to drop it (probably wait for decades like I'm so invested). Can you do some...fluff like the reader is so inlove and has been dropping hints to tachi. He knows but he wants the reader to say it to his face instead of hints.with the silly lines "I ain't a patient man, say it to my face" QJKSJSJS IDK HOW TO WORD IT BUT U CAN DO IT!!!!

"impatient"

⫭◦⨝◦⫬

tachihara michizou x fem! jouno's sister! reader

warnings: none! take the fluff and frustrated tachi and flustered reader! (obviously some mild cursing and intended lowercase >///<)

it was a mistake, a terrible mistake that led to this.

"listen up, you bitch," tachihara seethed, pressing the tip of the gun against her temple, "this is our turf and you have no business being here."

"look sweetheart, this is all a misunderstanding," she said coolly, despite her heart pounding in her chest and the cold metal wrapped around her wrists.

and she wasn't lying. the series of events that led to her being tied to a metal chair somewhere in the port mafia's infinite supply of basements were peculiar, difficult to explain to the man who was threatening her life.

"any chance I could explain this all over some drinks?" she suggested with a chuckle before he dragged the gun down to her neck and pushed it up under her chin. "sheesh, okay, I guess not."

"having fun now, aren't we?" he nearly spat in her face, looking disgusted. "let's see how much you laugh when I put a hole in every one of your limbs-"

she shushed him then spoke in a whisper. "I think they're gone now, you can lay off the act."

tachihara sighed out of relief and moved to take the cuffs off of the detained woman.

"you're a real pain in my ass, you know that?" he whispered back, watching her get up and stretch her limbs. "I told you not to show up here."

"I'm sorry, I got carried away! I was in the neighborhood and thought I'd say hi... never thought you'd have another mafioso with you."

"you're gonna blow my cover," he said plainly, earning a pout.

their relationship was complicated.

jouno [_____], executive at the most notorious criminal organization in yokosuka, a city south of yokohoma, who still traveled back and forth for some occasional business. her current position was formerly filled by her brother saigiku, who left the underground in order to join the hunting dogs.

she, on the other hand, stuck the criminal route and even maintained contact with her sibling throughout the 6 years without ever switching sides. he never spoke about her to his colleagues except for a single grumble under his breath on one occasion where teruko was out of control, saying she was acting just like "his delinquent sister".

the matter was laid to rest until the first day of tachihara's infiltration into the port mafia. supposedly, since he had no street credit and would look extremely suspicious, she was his ticket in. she wasn't doing it out of the goodness of her heart (she was paid by the hunting dogs after being recommended by her brother), and yet tachihara found that she'd taken less than a week to get him accustomed to the underground life and put in a good word for him with the port mafia. she acted somewhat unprofessional at times, but there was no denying that she was good.

a little too good at times.

he was given impossible missions, to begin. the kind of things that set you up for failure unless you were a prodigy or had insane connections, missions hand-delivered by mori or any executive to test the new recruit. the first time, he was supposed to go and threaten the foreigners that had settled in on the edge of town and gotten themselves too comfortable with yokohoma. he relayed the information back to the hunting dogs, and jouno happened to mention it over the phone to his sister. she jumped in, ready to intervene before tachihara went in guns blazing and found himself confronting the notorious bulletproof brothers of brazil. she even told him where to buy knockout gas and gave him the rundown of the crime groups of the region.

once he got more familiar with his environment, she was needed less and yet contacted him at the same frequency. sometimes it was for essential information, other times it was for "company", as she put it. the ambiguity made it so that he didn't have any other choice but to respond to all of her calls.

tonight, she was in yokohoma for some business and decided to pop by and say hi. unfortunately, she did so right as he was having a chat with chuuya and they were caught in a peculiar situation. they played along, her pretending to be caught and him pretending to not know who she was while the executive spat in her face and asked what she was doing in this part of yokohoma. tachihara took charge of the situation and promised to find out, which led to them both roleplaying in the basement of the port mafia.

"oh, come on, you're gonna be fineeee," she tapped the tip of his nose, giggling without a care in the world. "chuuya knows I travel 'round these areas, and he's gonna catch wind of the deal I just closed earlier tonight, too. just tell him that and all's well. cheer up, tachihara, it's the underground. no one cares that much here."

he grumbled some kind of confirmation and watched as she held his hand and they both turned to human vapor. his consciousness paused momentarily and he came to a few streets down, wobbly on his feet as if his muscles were liquified.

"what the fuck, I didn't say—"

she shushed his protest, nodding her head to the motorcycle parked in front of them. "oh come on, stop complainin'. I'd ask you for drinks but most of the shops 'round here are mafia-owned and you'd be paranoid about gettin' caught, right? so hop on, I'll take ya to the other side of town, but you're paying, got it?"

"shit, you're gonna get me—"

"drunk. now hop on, pretty boy, we've got places to be."

he complied with a roll of his eyes, mildly pissed but unable not to reflect back the playful attitude she was giving him.

the ride was rather long, but damn him if he complained.

she had her body leaning around the tank, legs constantly at work shifting gears and shifting their weight as the motorcycle sped up drastically. she didn't offer him a helmet, not even a jacket of any sorts, since she'd never crashed before. she whispered, "hold on, even if we're about to crash, and you'll be fine," and he didn't have any room to complain or ask questions.

her ability to turn herself and any objects directly in contact with her skin into vapor greatly resembled her brother's, but proved so useful in the sense that she could control herself in a gaseous state, floating around a room and gathering intel almost completely invisible, which made her such an effective executive. tachihara put two and two together and figured she'd evaporate both him and the bike if anything went south.

nothing went wrong. in fact, the fear for his life got him wrapping his hands around her waist and burying his face in her back. when he loosened up, she would do a dangerous maneuver and his grip would tighten once again as she laughed maniacally.

she laughed about it some more when they were finally inside the lounge owned by her own organization, sitting in a booth in the corner so that it was unlikely anyone would notice them— even if they did, she had the kind of authority that made it feel incredibly dangerous to even think about tattletalling. apparently, the sadism ran in the family.

"you really freaked out when I swerved around that huge truck," she giggled, taking a sip out of her mystery drink and sliding the glass over to him. "want a sip?"

"what is it?" he questioned, still drinking without waiting for her to respond. his face scrunched up in disgust and he pushed it back. "yurk, what is that? can't believe you drink that shit voluntarily."

"hey, it's my favourite flavour!" she frowned and punched his shoulder. "I'll tell them to charge you double for everything 'cause you deserve it."

"isn't everything we order free? I mean, since you practically own the shop, that's what the guy at the front told you."

"shut up, I'm trying to make a point."

the evening was quiet, almost no one around except the two of them. she asked how her brother had been, and he asked the same thing since he hadn't spoken to his coworkers in quite some time. she gave him more details on things he needed to watch out for, and then listened to his updates with enough attention that neither of them noticed her body gravitating towards his. by the time it was too early in the morning and the place was closing, their shoulders were practically rubbing and she was close enough to kiss him.

it was all she ever thought of. she lied to herself, said she was checking out the bandage on his nose and her gaze just dropped down to his lips while he spoke. staring long enough for him to notice - that was the plan - except he didn't seem to notice at all, or at least he pretended not to. laughing loudly at every semi-funny joke he made, distractedly taking her bottom lip in between her teeth, tilting her head when he spoke; she was running out of hints to drop. the only other thing she could think of was carving "I love you" into her forehead and praying he doesn't spontaneously go blind.

how dense can a man be?

she had a driver drop him off back in yokohoma; her heart ached when she waved him goodbye and goodnight.

she couldn't stop thinking about him, day and night, and it was getting out of control. she would zone out in the middle of meetings and her colleagues were noticing. she explained that it was just some personal stuff, not that her chest felt hollow whenever she thought about him, not that she was catching herself thinking of gifts to get him, not that she was atrociously in love with him.

months, she spent months trying to drop hints. she had felt like she might accidentally evaporate when she had called him "pretty boy" for the first time, but he shrugged it off as if she hadn't said anything. once she got comfortable with that, she got touchy, and still no reaction. over the past week, she texted and called him nearly every night and even fell asleep on call on a few occasions. she checked the call log and he hung up nearly an hour after she drifted off, long enough to signal that he was listening to her snore softly but not long enough that he could've fallen asleep accidentally as well.

she kept losing hope as she thought about it, then regaining the confidence after seeing him again. it was getting unbearable.

"saigiku, I'm losing my mind," she said, sitting down at a bench on the pier. her legs kicked back and forth, and she sighed into the phone. "I don't understand guys. help me out here."

"ugh, don't you have girlfriends to talk about this shit with?" he groaned in annoyance on the other end. "I don't know. men are stupid. hope that helps."

she mimicked him. "thanks bro, you're tons of help."

"well, you won't tell me anything about the guy so I don't know what you want from me. either suck it up and say it to him or move on."

his advice wasn't bad, but it was simultaneously obvious that he couldn't care less. she rolled her eyes and changed the topic, instead listening for what felt like hours while he ranted about his dumb colleague. she wondered whether the jounos were really just bad at understanding people.

once the call was over, she took a deep breath of the ocean breeze and closed her eyes. nearly falling asleep on the bench, she was roused by her name being called out, a familiar voice.

"hey, tachihara," she smiled softly at him, seemingly exhausted (from all the nights spent rolling over in bed, thinking about him).

"you said you had intel?" he takes a seat next to her, trying to play it cool in case they were spotted, despite the light fog and the lack of anyone being out this late at night.

nodding, she handed over a folder filled with the information she collected about the next inspectors in yokohoma, the ones who were going to try to naively take down the port mafia and ultimately fail.

"they have a few operations going on, one about your buddy hirotsu. they might start digging into you too, and you don't want them finding out. deal with them as if them finding your identity was a death sentence, because it might as well be."

the information was true, but nothing in the folder was important. she just wanted to see him again.

"so..." he leafed through the papers, "anything I need to look out for?"

the millions of hints I keep dropping you.

"nothing particular, I think. they'll probably aim for more important mafia figures, so you'll be glossed over as a new recruit. someone experienced will likely take care of them before you need to."

"okay, thanks," he made the motion to get up, but stopped himself. "...are you in yokohoma for long?"

"just the night, my driver's picking me up in a few hours," she smiled reassuringly at him. "why?"

"huh? no reason, just wonderin'." he got up this time and nodded at her. "thanks for the drop, you didn't hafta do that."

I'm in love with you, you fool, of course I did.

"oh, it's not a big deal. anything for a friend."

more than a friend. fuck, you look gorgeous in the moonlight.

she caught herself watching his back as he walked away. her hand reached out, as if to physically catch him as he slipped away, then she cursed herself.

"hey, tachihara? are you in a rush to go anywhere?"

he turned around and shot up a brow. her smirk felt genuine.

the idea was stupid, to combine both of their abilities together to try to get the best view of the night sky. no city light in their way as they stood a few hundred meters from the ground. she beat up the metal roof of a small car and pulled it off so that they could place it on the ground. they both sat down on top of it, one of her hands holding him while the other's palm flattened out on the sheet of metal. evaporating; within seconds, they were among the clouds. she warped them back and he activated his ability to carry both of their weights.

suspended in the sky, suspended in time.

"never seen the stars this clearly before," she murmured, feet dangling over the edge as she laid down. "living in the city really takes away from the small things, doesn't it?"

"guess so," he said, doing the same as she did.

silence. nothing except the breeze and the frigid air and their breathing.

"the stars are beautiful," she said, dumbly, not knowing what else to say.

"yeah," he responded simply.

more silence. she could've sworn he could hear her heart pounding.

"...is it heavy to hold both of us up?"

"not really."

it was getting painful.

"shit, it's cold up here."

"uh huh."

she wasn't lying, it really was cold. but at least the numbness in her fingers took over for the numbness in her mind.

"should we head down?"

"sure."

she held onto the plate, then reached for his hand. she hesitated. it felt like she was always making the first move, always trying to do something, and now it was feeling all wrong. she just wanted him to confirm anything, tell her anything, anything at all.

she got over herself, took his frozen hand in hers and brought them back down.

she took her brother's advice and got over herself.

of course, she still filled him in on anything he needed to know and she occasionally tried to talk with him, but it was as if he was purposefully avoiding not only her hints, but anything at all that she did.

so, she was quite surprised when she found that he'd left her a message telling her to show up at a bar in between the two cities that evening.

her leg bounced uneasily while she sat at a table, drinks already ordered but her glass toyed with between her fingers while she waited. thankfully, it wasn't long before he arrived, amber eyes catching hers from across the room.

"hey," she smiled, trying to repress the butterflies and keep a level head. "what did you— huh?!"

tachihara had grabbed her arm with a tight grip, firmly pulling her up to her feet as she complied, confused.

"ow, lay off my arm— I'll follow you but where the fuck are we going? I ordered drinks, y'know, feels like a waste..."

"will you shut the actual fuck up?" he interrupted again, now pulling her outside of the bar completely and pushing her against the wall. "are you fucking stupid?"

"what the hell? what's wrong with you, tachiha-"

"I'd ask you the same thing. look, I'm not dumb. I can practically feel your heart beating out of your chest right now."

"wha-"

"look, I ain't a patient man. just say it to my face."

it took his stern expression, the way he was almost trapping her against the brick wall of the building and looking as serious as she'd ever seen him to realize that they were both thinking the same thing.

"what, do you wanna hear that I like you? you're gonna make me sound like a lovesick schoolgirl," she chuckled, using humour to envelope her confession so that whatever came next would hurt less. or so, she hoped.

"not good enough."

she narrowed her eyes at him. "the fuck do you mean, not good enough? I've been trying to drop you hints for the past century and your dense ass wasn't having it, all of a sudden you're acting distant, then you're pulling me out of a bar and asking me to confess to you? fine, you wanna hear about how fucking stupid I am around you? you wanna hear how I read over every message you've ever sent me before I go to sleep, how I can't do shit without seeing something that reminds me of you, how I feel like I'm going to combust into a thousand fucking pieces whenever I see you smile at one of my lame jokes? you wanna hear about every time I told myself I'd say something and then I back out of it? you wanna—"

she stopped talking as soon as his hand wrapped around her neck, fingertips intertwined with her hair and thumbs running upwards along her ears so he had a good enough hold to pull her into his lips.

maybe it was everything she'd ever imagined, or maybe it wasn't. who cares. he was kissing her.

she didn't know what to do, how to kiss him back when he was pressing into her like he wanted this as badly as she did. her body went along with his, allowing him to push her harder against the wall and kiss her deeper. it didn't end, her lips opening up and panting softly into his mouth while his tongue took over. he drew pictures of her into the roof of her mouth, and she was drunk on his spit by the time he pulled away.

"fucking finally," he breathed out, chest rising and falling against hers.

"I'm so goddamn confused," she giggled back, "not that I'm complaining."

"you didn't just drop hints, you threw them at my fuckin' face, [_____]. I was waiting for you to make the first move and you didn't, so I tried somethin' else to see if you'd get sick and tired and finally say it. but you didn't, and I wasn't gonna wait any longer."

"you could've just asked me first, you dipshit."

he grinned that stupid, smug grin she couldn't get over. "yeah, but then I wouldn't have heard your little speech there."

"oh, fuck you." her words didn't match her actions, grabbing handfuls of his jacket and pulling him in for another kiss.

for an impatient man, he felt like he waited his whole life for this moment.

#IDK WHY IM HAVING BRAINFARTS AND CANT WRITE GOOD RN SOBBING #tachihara michizou #bsd tachihara #tachihara x reader #bungo stray dogs tachihara #tachihara michizou x reader #bsd x reader #bungou stray dogs #bsd #bungo stray dogs x reader #tachihara x reader bsd #tachihara bsd x reader #tachihara bsd #tachi fics #im unwell for them

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munsonsreputation · 5 months

Text

I THINK THERES BEEN A GLITCH

CHAPTER FIVE: FASTENING MYSELF TO YOU WITH A STITCH

↢ chapter four | series masterlist | chapter six ↣

steve harrington x fem!baker + artist

word count: [20.5K]

warnings: no use of y/n, cursing, self deprecation (are we surprised???) overall fluff

summary: things get heavy with the farmers market making its quick approach — thoughts gnawing away at you and pressure building in your bones. slowly but surely, you’re back at square one, lost in the labyrinth, thinking that the plane was going down. but what happens when Steve comes along in the midst of the storm and mess?

There was a sugary sweet aroma that clouded your apartment — a mixture of freshly chopped fruit that simmered in lemon juice and the overwhelming heaps of sugar and vanilla you mixed together all day.

Racks of fresh baked cookies cooled on a wire rack on the counters while the next batch baked in the oven. You had gone as far as to clearing out most of your fridge space — pre-filled piping bags littering the shelves along with the rest of the precut ingredients you had prepared throughout the week.

Somehow, no amount of planning and prep seemed to matter because you hadn’t anticipated being responsible for a few hundred batches of sweets for Saturday’s Farmers Market. Perhaps you should’ve posed a few more questions and concerns before agreeing on the spot, but you knew you weren’t going to leave Nancy hanging.

She was always so good to you… welcoming, big-hearted, and most of all supportive. Even if she didn’t ask, you would’ve volunteered yourself the second she brought up that she would be hosting the event.

If there was any way you could help, you wouldn’t even think about hesitating.

However, the ache in your limbs and the tiredness in your eyes were speaking a whole nother tune than your heart and mind. You spent the entire week in and out of the grocery store picking up pounds and pounds of flour and sugar — even the sweet lady at the market had run out of fresh eggs to sell you, having already picked up a few dozen days prior.

There were too many baking dishes and itty bitty teaspoons littering the bottom of your kitchen sink.

Recipes that normally took you an hour to bake had tripled with the increasing measurements.

Grocery store runs became more and more frequent with you forgetting to pick up that one very important and vital ingredient.

The menu you had scribbled down on a random piece of paper had been crossed off and rewritten and crossed off again more times than you could count. At this point it was barely legible, the black ink a jumbled mess of your handwriting that only you could understand.

Safe to say you were a mess… literally and figuratively.

There was a tingling feeling in your bones, an impatient restless prickle that flooded your senses in a way that was voicing to you that you were on the verge of a breakdown in the middle of your kitchen if you didn’t step away.

“Fuck this!” You hissed to yourself sharply.

You reached for the knob, turning it to shut off the heat completely and pulled the bubbling fruit compote away from the burner. The floorboards creaked under your heavy footsteps taking you away from the kitchen and into the living room where you fell against the couch cushions, finally letting your back rest after being on your feet all day.

“It’s gonna be okay… everything is fine, I’m just being dramatic.” You whispered reassuringly to yourself with fanning hands trying to get yourself to cool down.

But you and your consciousness knew you weren’t fooling anyone… not even yourself.

It wasn’t a foreign feeling at all — you had been here many times before staring up at the ceiling and trying to ground yourself in any shape or form. But it just so happened that you hadn’t felt like this in awhile, maybe because of how busy life had become with your new friendships and the less time you spent worrying.

You had done your best to keep it at bay, even when it came to your artist’s block, you never let it overwhelm you like this If anything you accepted it and waited it out, but now that you knew someone was counting on you… it just had to come back and bite you in the ass.

“I can’t do this!” You whined dramatically, standing up and snatching the phone off the coffee table, dialing in the numbers and pressing it tightly to your ear.

With every ring you paced back and forth from end to end of your living room. The cord pulled taut with each step you took before it was slack and taut again.

‘Hey this is the Buckley residence, sorry we can’t come to the phone right now… you should probably leave a message and we’ll try to get back to you but no promises!’

You groaned, pinching your eyes shut as you stood in place waiting for the beep to come but you really wished she would have picked it up and sounded off her lovely voice.

“Hey, Robs, it’s me,” you knew she would be concerned right away when she heard this, your usual bubbly greeting gone and instead replaced with dullness.

“I’m having a really shitty day right now and maybe you can give me a call when you get home? Love you and hope to talk soon.”

It never got this bad, to the point where you felt like you couldn’t move from where you were and even if you wanted to, you had no idea how.

The thought of letting someone you cared about down made your stomach twist and turn. You didn’t have many people in your life, let alone genuine friends. But that all changed when you met Robin and soon after her friends became yours.

Nancy trusted you and was counting on you to be there for her — to show up the way for her the same way she did you. And sweet Will was also counting on you, the boy pitched you the idea and you smiled in his face promising him that it wasn’t only great but that you’d be there to help.

You could already imagine the disappointment in their eyes if you had to tell them you weren’t sure you were the right fit just barely two days before the event. It would totally shatter them, maybe not completely, but enough for them to never ask you for anything ever again because you’d only let them down.

Even when you didn’t mean to, it always happened, and here you were about to repeat it all over again. Losing the people who genuinely cared about you the same way you cared about them just because you couldn’t get out of your own head.

All of your life you had believed that everything good and right just ended up breaking, burning, and ending — it was always your fate.

DING!

“Oh my god!”

You scrambled off the cushions in a haste, the phone toppling over onto the floor as you ran into the kitchen and threw on the oven mitts as quickly as you could. The smell of burning was only faint, the timer you had set on the microwave beeping two more times before shutting up.

You whipped the oven door opened, a big gush of heat enveloping the air whilst you reached in and grabbed the pan. Frantically searching your kitchen for any free space on the already cluttered counters, you made room on the kitchen table, placing it down on a dish towel to prevent it from developing a heat stain.

Much to your surprise, the cookies were not at all burnt: the colorful sprinkles of funfetti still remained vibrant embedded within the vanilla sugar cookies. You wedged the metal spatula underneath, checking and making sure they were perfectly golden, which in fact they were.

“Fuck my life.” You huffed, throwing off the mitt and raking your hands through your scalp.

The pressure was building, the weight on your chest feeling like the whole town was counting on you when you knew deep down they weren’t. The show would still go on with or without you but it just was principal – being inconsiderate or not.

The phone began to ring, muffled sounds from against your living room carpet as it had fallen over in the midst of the haste. It was probably Robin, concerned about the voicemail you left minutes ago.

“Hey sweet—”

“Steve!”

It was supposed to be a greeting of pleasant surprise not expecting him to be on the other line, despite spending the last week non stop on the phone with each other when you both were free. But all Steve heard was panic and distress, your warm and surprised hello replaced with everything opposite of that, making his mind race.

“Woah, hey, did something happen? Are you okay?”

You couldn't spare him from the truth or not, and it didn’t really matter because he’d end up finding out somehow. You sighed, peeking back into the disaster of your kitchen before looking down at your lap, fidgeting with your fingers.

“I… well, kinda, not really, I don’t really know.”

“Do you need me to drive down there? I can come right now.”

There was shuffling in the background, his bed squeaking from getting up from it and the sound of his car keys being swiped off the counters. It had you backtracking as quickly as possible, regretting being so vague and making him worry like this knowing he was so far away.

While the thought of him coming down to see you after a week apart sounded enticing, it would be entirely selfish to let him do so. You weren’t Steve’s responsibility to take care of, no matter how much you felt inside for him and how his presence could put you at ease right about now.

For now, you’d settle for the next best thing: him over the phone.

“Wait, no, that’s not what I mean, I’m sorry…” You squeezed your eyes shut, sniffling a deep breath in, “I just—just was having a really bad day and then I almost burnt the cookies I had in the oven. I’m not hurt, I promise.”

There was a deep sigh at the end of your sentence, the one where he could picture your shoulders falling defeatedly and that terrible frown he hated to see on your face. He could imagine it would be the same sight as when you sat across from him at the diner and felt so horrible about yourself.

If only you were a block away, he’d be at your doorstep in a heartbeat ready to tackle whatever was going on like it was his only duty in the world. To be quite honest he hated the distance between the both of you, like some sort of curse that only you two had to go through.

Way to go for Dustin and Suzies long distance problems.

There was another squeak, his back hitting his bed again before he spoke. “What’s going on?”

You shook your head, not wanting to dump all of it on him after the day he probably had. “N-nothing. I’m just being dramatic and getting in my head about the farmers market thing.”

There was a migraine already coming to life from the pulse on your temples just thinking about it again.

“C’mon tell me what’s bothering you.” He pressed, unwavering in his efforts to help you get it off your chest.

You took another deep breath, falling back onto the couch cushions and this time ready let all the pent up stress go by finally telling someone the truth.

“I don’t know if I can do it… I mean, I didn’t anticipate for it to be this stressful, you know. Which is stupid of me, I mean what did I think it was gonna be? A walk in the park? I swear, I’m not lazy or anything, I just didn’t realize—”

He cut in before you could even think about finishing that sentence, scoffing incredulously, “Stop it, you don’t have to tell me you’re not lazy because I know you’re not.”

His voice was soothing and sure, not a hint of uncertainty behind it that made you think otherwise. You couldn’t help but roll your eyes at your own negativity that you promised yourself you would stop doing but would always have a habit of.

“Saying it out loud makes me feel like I am.” You attempted to laugh at yourself to lighten the spirits, but Steve let out a disapproving grunt and you almost see the visual of him shaking his head.

“You’re such a hard worker, I mean, that’s why Nance picked you. She knew you could do this and I do too.”

Even over the phone he never failed to make your heart melt and cheeks blush. Call yourself cheesy or whatever, but he was the greatest pick me up on days like these.

Staring up at your ceiling you began getting lost in him despite the lack of visuals. “I kid you not, I think I went back to the grocery store like five whole times. My arms are going to be ripped with how many pounds of flour and sugar I’ve been picking up.”

He chuckled, trying to picture it in his head. Poor you having to lug bags and bag of flour from the store all the way to your car then back home.

“You know you could’ve called, I would have come down and helped sooner.”

“I didn’t want to bother you. You’re already doing a lot at work and—”

“Cupcake, I categorize tapes. My job is far from stressful.” His tone went stoic, pretending like he didn’t know what you were talking about.

Steve did more than just categorized tapes. He dealt with the horrible and impatient customers, even the rowdy teenagers who kept wandering back to the adult film section. He put up with a whole lot at work — but you were never someone he had to deal with.

A relief of sorts is what you were – someone he’d call or run to with no hesitation because it just felt right. No obligations, no whys or hows, just because in his bones, you felt like that person for him.

His almost.

You’re the one he looked forward to calling after a long hard day knowing that you would be able to make him forget all about it. He could lay there in his bed, eyes shut with the phone glued to his ear and you on the other end of it. Maybe it wasn’t the best substitute for sleep, but in his eyes it was the best rest he could ever get if you weren’t here laying beside him like before.

Still, your apologies never ceased, too concerned for his own wellbeing. “But you’re on your feet all day and you’re really tired and—”

Steve cut you off, stopping your unnecessary yet thoughtful concern for him.

“And I still would’ve come down even if I was all of those things. You don’t have to worry about bothering me, you know you never do.” He said it sincerely, a happy and eased way about it like there was no other way to explain it.

“How do you always do that?” You murmured, voice finally settling into a more relaxed mood the longer you spent away from the chaos.

“Do what?”

You wiggled around, tapping your fingers against the phone, “You know what I need to hear even when I don’t say it outloud.”

Steve had always been great at that and for someone who claimed to never be good with words, he just knew exactly what to say. He’d like to think it was because the kids needed constant advice in their teenage lives and he came to be better at guiding and explaining things to them.

But you never asked for advice nor did he feel like you ever needed it. Everything that he’d spew to you came from the bottom of his heart, things that he always wanted to tell you without reservation.

He pretended to think for a second before replying obviously, “Hmm, maybe it’s because I care about you?”

“You care about me?”

His laugh echoed lightly, thinking you were playing around because how could you not know? Your silence answered his question, and he just knew he had to tell you how serious he was.

“Of course I do!” You could tell he sat back up on his bed, voice a little stronger now as he continued, “I care about you and I can’t stand hearing you talk so badly about yourself when I’m head over—”

A loud ring erupted through the receiver, a second call on the other line completely cutting Steve off as he was about to put it all out on the table.

“Shit!” You winced pulling the phone back and rubbing your ear from where it was ringing.

“What!?” Steve shouted loud enough to hear with the phone still pulled away from you.

Looking down at the display, the last name ‘BUCKLEY’ illuminated in bright orange.

“Umm, Robin is calling… I left her a voicemail and she’s probably worried and I—”

Steve let out a breath of relief, sighing out as he settled back on the springs of his bed. “You can put me on hold, it’s okay.”

“O-okay, sorry, just a minute.” You squeaked, switching the line with your brain still processing what he was on the verge of saying.

“Hey Ro—”

You couldn’t even get the full greeting out before her voice came to you rushed — you could imagine that’s exactly what Steve heard when you picked up his call a few minutes ago.

“Oh thank god! I thought something bad happened for a second. Are you alright?” She asked worriedly.

“Yeah! Just kinda had a mini breakdown, but I promise that I’m—”

“Do you want me to come down? I can call Steve or Nance and get a ride there.” She offered quickly without hesitation.

You truly had the best friends in the entire world… how did you manage to get so lucky?

“No! No! I swear I’m okay… it was just some stupid thoughts about the farmers market thing. You know the stress and whatever.” You reassured her, hoping she wasn’t too strung up on it.

“Are you sure?” She pressed again just for good measure, “I know Steve would drop everything for me and him to come down and help you.” Her voice lifted with a bit of teasing that you caught.

You smiled self indulgently, happy to know you had people who were willing to come all the way down here to be with you — it showed that they really cared, and even if you didn’t need them to, hearing it outloud warmed your anxious heart.

“You’re so sweet, Ro…but I swear, I’m okay! Steve actually called me.”

“He did?” She gasped.

She wasn’t actually too surprised considering that these days after scoring your number all Steve would talk about was getting home from work to give you a call before you headed to bed.

The next morning she would be bombarded with him going on and on about the conversation you two had — little things like what you had for dinner, a stray cat you started feeding, entirely mundane yet sappy things that had him hooked because you were the star of those stories.

Nevertheless she loved hearing about it — a perfect start to her morning, lunch break, and the entire shift of the day before doing a full repeat the next day.

“Yeah, he’s on the other line right now.”

A squeal ensued from her end, one that made a smile pop upon your features because her happiness always had its special way of radiating and lifting up everyone around her.

“Oh perfect! Merge the call!”

“Are you sure? I can tell him I’ll call him back later.” You offered, wanting her to know she would always have your full undivided attention.

“You can merge it! I actually have something important I really want to tell the both of you if it’s okay?” She said making your mind race with a million different things she could be planning to tell you and Steve if it was this important.

“Of course, give me a sec.”

You heard her “mhm,” before you switched lines again and this time Steve’s whistling came through the receiver.

“S-sorry, she was checking in.” You cleared your throat, not doing a great job of masking the croak.

“Was she jumpy?” He joked, knowing she had a habit of doing that all the time.

“A little,” you snickered, “she wants me to merge the call. Has something important to tell us.”

“Okay, cool, yeah that’s fine. She called out of work today so I didn’t get to talk to her all day.”

Robin calling out of work was a rarity, sure the job was a little boring, but working with her best friend compensated for that. Steve was usually up to date in advance whether she would be calling out or not – so getting to work today and not seeing her was incredibly weird.

You cleared your throat once more, fingers twirling around the cord as you spoke kindly, not wanting to let what he did for you go unnoticed. But Steve never did things to be thanked for, you knew that for sure, but still, you would cherish him for taking the time out of his day to be there for you.

“But umm, I really appreciate what you said earlier, y’know… encouraging me and whatnot.” Your voice was soft, filled with a mixture of gratitude and warmth.

“You know all you have to do is ask and I’ll be your biggest supporter.” Steve responded happily, making sure that it stuck with you.

Your fingers hovered over the merge button, contemplating your choice of words before you decided to let it go at the last second. “And Steve?”

“Hmm?”

“I-I care about you too…a lot, just so you know.”

You said with an oath-like-whisper hearing his breath hitch with a thick swallow. Clearly he was a little taken aback by your sudden leap of boldness that was usually hidden under your bashfulness that he found endearing, nonetheless. Before Steve could say anything else, you clicked the merge button, a quick static ringing through the receiver before it cleared up.

A joyful Robin came through the other side. “Can you guys hear me, alright?”

Steve coughed, trying to steady his heart that was pumping faster as he hung onto your words for dear life. He tried to think of something else in the meantime, knowing he needed to at least survive this phone call before he got to pace his room for the rest of the night and replay the words in his head.

“Y-yeah.”

“Yuppers!”

You obviously did a better job at trying to seem nonchalant.

Robin squealed, the sounds of her getting comfortable on her couch filling the line before she spoke again.

“I have some really big major news to spill but—”

“But first tell me why you called out of work, dingus? I had to deal with Keith all alone today!” Steve retorted.

She scoffed loudly, “God, do you ever shut up and listen, Harrington? It’s a part of my story.”

“Wait, you called out of work because of this big major news?” You asked suspiciously.

“Yeah…well actually no! I called out of work for a reason that led up to the big major news.” She informed you both.

“Oh! Well, whenever you’re ready!” You chirped ready for the news.

“Okay so remember Vickie?”

Steve clicked his tongue a few times, “Isn’t she still dating that jerk from Purdue?”

“Not since last month!”

“What happened between them?” You wondered, not knowing much about Vickie and her history with Robin.

There was a heavy sigh before a devastating confession. “He cheated on her.”

“Ouch.” You grimaced, biting down on your lip.

“What an asshole.” Steve muttered.

“Exactly! But anyway, we ran into each other this morning at the bus stop and we kinda just hit it off and we spent the day together then she kissed me!”

You gasped and Steve cursed. The both of you were shocked by not only hearing about poor Vicky’s cheating situation, but on top of all that, the fact that she and Robin had swapped spit after how many months of pining.

“You blew me off for a girl!?”

“Oh shut up Steve, as if you didn’t do it to me before either!”

If you weren’t so flabbergasted, you’d make a comment about how the two still fought like siblings even over the phone, but you didn’t, too intrigued and wanting to know more details.

“Did she initiate the kiss?”

“Yes!”

“Like a peck kiss or like a full fledged make out kiss?” You pressed.

“I-I don’t know! Maybe a little bit of both? I was just following her lead, okay? Last time I kissed a person was back in sixth grade when Donny Humberford dared me to… it was unpleasant and quite honestly was my awakening that I never liked boys.”

You giggled as Steve went for his round of questions, the two of you taking turns like it was some sort of interrogation.

“Well, c’mon tell us, was this kiss at least pleasant.”

Robin sighed a sigh that sounded straight out of a rom-com, you could picture her kicking back her legs and looking so enamored by just the memory itself.

“The most pleasant kiss I think I’ll ever get.” She sing-songed cheerfully.

“What about if Phoebe Cates kissed you?” He challenged.

“Okay, woah, that’s totally unfair! Vickie and Phoebe are both hot babes!”

You jumped in again, this time with a very important question that needed to be answered. “Did you foot do the pop up thing?”

Stuttered words came from Steve, who had no idea what you were talking about. “The what? Is that some sort of sex thing?”

Robin snorted. “Ew no!”

“Steve!” You shrieked, covering your face.

“What?! You said foot and thing in the same sentence and that makes me think of some really gross stuff that I don’t even think the rated X section has.”

Robin gasped, slapping a hand over her mouth, “You’re totally right! Wait, do you think Keith stole all the foot fetish tapes?” She speculated seriously.

“What the hell is wrong with your boss?” Your face twisted up in horror.

“He’s a creep.”

Steve was next with a considerate yet weird warning, “Please, if you ever come to visit us, do not wear opened toed shoes at the store.”

“Jesus Christ, yeah, I’ll make sure I remember that. Anyways, the foot thing!”

“Oh yeah, the foot thing!” Robins snapped gleefully.

“Would someone just explain the goddamn foot thing?” Steve complained.

“You know! When you kiss someone you really really like and your foot does that little pop up thing because you’re enjoying it because it’s with them.” You tried your best to explain.

“Guys don’t really do it though… they pop something else, if you know what I mean.” Robin cracked with a laugh before Steve choked on his spit at the vulgary.

The line reduced to chortles, you and Robin dying at the joke, while Steve couldn’t help but smile, waiting for you both to settle.

“And you want to call me filthy?” He pointed out when it finally died down.

“No but seriously, she kissed me out of nowhere and I didn’t get the chance to really even process it and I’m just realizing that and, holy shit! I kissed Vickie!”

“She actually kissed you first but okay.” Steve corrected, though Robin didn’t seem to catch it.

“Vickie and I’s lips were pressed together! I felt her mouth on mine! Oh my god! I kissed Vickie!”

It wasn’t long before the call was filled with her squeals and screams, Robin completely forgetting about you and Steve while she remembered it all in her own world. Her heavy panting filled the line then, taking a breather from the screams and her recollection of every detail.

“Honey, do you wanna process that alone?” You suggested indulgently, hoping she would take you up on the offer because it really was a special moment you wanted her to process.

Thankfully she didn’t even hesitate. “Yeah, I gotta go!”

“Bye-bye now, don’t dream too much about it.” Steve sing-songed before she hung up with a heavy clunk.

The static rings through for a millisecond as she disconnects, before you and Steve are alone once again. Good-natured and proud laughter comes from both of you, so ecstatic for your friend.

“That’s adorable! I’m so happy for her!” You gushed with a squeal.

“I should’ve known something was up! She never calls out of work like that and doesn’t give a reason why.”

“I bet you she’s screaming into her pillow right now.”

“Or she could be pacing her room with her face in a pillow and screaming.” He added as you both agreed that it would be a very possible ‘Robin-thing-to-do.’

Steve seized the moment with a question of his own. “Have you ever done the foot thing?”

Laughter came out the second he finished the query, you just couldn’t help the fact that he was asking about that all of a sudden – not that you minded, but you just never imagined Steve Harrington asking about a corny foot pop.

“Now all I can think about is foot fetish.” You fake gagged.

“You’re so dirty minded! Okay, okay, has your foot ever done the pop thing…that’s better?”

“Much better,” You crooned, thinking for a moment about all the times in which you’ve been kissed with nothing sticking out, “And, no, I don’t think it’s ever happened to me.”

“Really?” He sounded surprised, as if it was some sort of shock that you’ve never experienced such a thing.

“The foot pop is, like, totally memorable, trust me.”

Steve was half regretful of bringing up such a dumb question, hoping it didn’t make you feel uncomfortable. The last thing he wanted was to remind you of your ex that he already knew you weren’t too fond of.

“Well who knows? Maybe one day right?” He put it out there into the universe, crossing his fingers that his optimist came through the way he wanted.

Your small laugh was all it took for him to know everything was just right. “One day.”

Perhaps it was the hour and the lack of sleep you had been getting for the past couple of days, but you let out a yawn, apologizing in the middle of it as Steve chuckled and told you not to worry about it.

“I should probably go… I need to get started on the cupcakes and package the cookies up.” You groaned, reality hitting as you looked around your place that was still a complete disaster, and didn’t magically clean itself up.

“Why don’t you call it a night huh? I’m sure you worked all day.”

Steve’s voice filled with the same concern as the beginning of the call, still not understanding why you were putting yourself through so much when you were already doing the best you could.

“Been up and moving since 7 a.m..” You yawned again, rubbing your eyes.

Steve shook his head, not that you could see him, but he was sure you must have felt his discontent for overworking yourself through the phone.

“You did so much work, you deserve a break.” He repeated sternly.

You rubbed your forehead, knowing he was more than right. “Yeah but then that means I’ll still have more work to do tomorrow and—”

“And I’ll come and pick you up and we can bake the rest of the stuff at my place. I’ll help and it’ll be a nice change of scenery for you.”

Steve was notorious for doing and saying things without using his head, oftentimes leading to horrible and awkward situations. But when it came to you, more times than not, everything he did and said was without thinking of himself and more for the best interest of you.

He knew you’d been bending over backwards for this event and the last thing he wanted you to do was go at it all alone. Steve knew you were more than capable of doing it all by yourself, but he didn’t want you to – not when he was there willing and able.

“Don’t you have the morning shift tomorrow?” You suspected, having both his and Robin’s schedule memorized by heart.

“Well Robin owes me so not anymore.” He retorted cheekily.

Sure, maybe he should have given Robin a break considering kissing Vicky to be an incredible milestone, but if he could survive a shift alone with Keith so could she. Plus, it was for you, so Robin couldn't be too upset if she wanted to.

“If you’re going to call out I don’t want to make you do more work.”

“You’re not making me, I want to.”

He’d do anything when it came to you without even second guessing it. There was something deep down inside of him hoping that you knew and understood that because he needed you to.

“You’re too good to me.” Your chest rose and fell, a happy breath that was a glimmer of hope to his ears that you knew.

He took his own breath, glancing over at the alarm clock on his bedside table, “Get some rest and I’ll be over in the morning.”

“I could drive there if you want? Save you some gas and let you sleep in a bit more.”

“I know you could, but I want to. So please?”

Why Steve was so generous when it came to you, you’d never really understand considering the mess you were. A part of you liked to think that you were the mess he wanted and there was nothing more you wanted to be than his.

“Y-yeah, sure, thank you.” You stuttered, gripping the phone tightly

“Get some sleep okay? You deserve it.” He cooed, a smile leaking through his voice that you could see even over the phone.

“I will.” You promised to smile at the thought of getting to see him so soon.

“Night sweetheart.”

“Night Stevie.”

Steve shouldn’t like the idea of waking up at the crack of dawn and proceeding to drive to a town an hour away on the one time he called out of work — but when it’s Roane and he’s coming for you, he loved the journey.

He felt more lively than ever even if he had woken up ten minutes before his alarm and ran out of instant coffee to make before he left. All of the little inconveniences didn't matter when he was taking the roads that led straight to you.

There’s a vast difference between the town he grew up in and yours. Hawkins should feel like home, and at times, it really is — his closest friends are there, but then again his parents always come back eventually. And when they do, it feels less than that — like him playing a game of hide and seek trying to avoid them until they go out of town again.

Sometimes there were moments where he just wished that they both packed up their things and relocated permanently so he could stop banking on the moment where they finally woke up and made an attempt to be an actual family — the one he still yearned for even after all of these years of disappointments.

It’s the harsh truth he’s had to face since he was a young teen realizing that they’d always come home, but never for him. A feeling of cruelty that reminded him that no matter how patient he was, his parents would never notice the way they’ve neglected him through the years.

He kept quiet, stayed hidden in plain sight when they were around knowing they could never make up for it — the damage had been done and his home was never going to be home as long as they were around.

But in hindsight, that’s why he enjoyed visiting Roane these days.

He didn’t have to hide or worry about running into one of his father’s friends from the office or his mother’s girlfriends, trying to uphold a conversation with them that he clearly didn’t want to be in. He knew close to nothing about his parents and their whereabouts and didn’t want to unless it was them coming home early and him needing to leave for the next few days.

In Roane there’s no one he’s hiding from… just someone he’s desperate to get to.

But of course an early morning in town isn’t complete without a pit stop at Taylor’s. He’d be damned if he showed up at your doorstep at this hour without a dozen cronuts and your favorite coffee.

He was welcomed with the chime above the door, inhaling the smell of freshly ground coffee and baked breads, a type of homeyness that could never be replicated unless it was coming from your kitchen.

Like second nature he knew what to get, an order of assorted cronuts, your rose latte with an extra pump of vanilla syrup, and his very plain iced mocha with an extra shot of caffeine to get him through, but he doubted he really needed it when you’d be there beside him the whole day.

“It’s going to be $19.89.” The cashier announced, ringing up the total and he nodded, reaching into his back pocket.

Flipping open his wallet, there was a giddy smile that spilled on his face. The yellow notepad paper folded up and placed within the clear pocket of the billfold, your handwriting reading ‘to: stevie <3’

It’s probably the worst way to store his most prized possession, but the damn thing got him through long work days and even longer ones at the arcade when Max and El begged for $5 to spare — he doesn’t mind them asking if every time he opens his wallet, he’s greeted by something that reminds him of you.

He probably looked like a psycho taking too long to grab a $20 bill with him distracted. Finally sliding the cash across the counter, he waited for his change before tucking it back into his wallet and stuffing the receipt into his pocket and stepping off to the side waiting for the drinks to be done.

“Steven!”

The greeting came from the woman walking through the front door, the chime of the bell above her not at all audible with her voice bellowing within the small space. She wore a big big smile, arms held out wide as she approached him.

He cracked a grin, letting her pull him in as he hugged her warmly. “Dorothea.”

She was just as lively at seven in the morning as she is at ten at night at the diner.

“I haven’t seen you around in a while. You two haven’t stopped seeing each other already have you?” She lifted a weary brow, voice laced with a bit of teasing.

Steve shook his head, shyly smiling at her insinuation of what you two had going on. “I’ve just been working a lot, these days. I’m going to see her right now, just came by to pick up some breakfast for us.” He gestured towards the counter of packaged goodies.

“Aren’t you such a gentleman? You know if I could clone ya, I would!” She pinched his cheek playfully.

God, she reminded him of his great grandmother he hadn’t seen since he was seven.

“That’s uh…very sweet of you. Thank you.” Steve smiled sincerely, hoping he didn’t look too strained.

She gripped onto his arm, squeezing as she smiled from ear to ear. “Well tell her I said hello! She hasn’t been to the diner in a while, must be locked up in her apartment painting or something.”

“That and baking.” Steve replied with a proud grin. “She’s in charge of a booth at the Hawkins market tomorrow.”

“No kidding?” She tilted her head, strikingly, always amazed at the amount of things you were able to juggle.

“You should come, she’ll be happy to see some familiar faces around.” He extended the invite warmly, cursing himself for not having a flyer on hand to give her in case.

“Order for Steve.”

He gave her another smile, “Hope we see you there,”

“I’ll try my best, pumpkin! You two enjoy your breakfast, now.”

And he was off, back on track to his destination with the goods secured knowing it would make your morning better even if you were not so much an early bird. It’s little things like this that he knew he could do to make your day a little less stressful especially since he anticipated plenty of baking for the next few hours.

But he hoped with his presence you’d find it in yourself to not put so much pressure on yourself. He was there for a reason, wanted to give you a hand and take some of it off your plate so that you could relax a bit.

Sure, he didn’t really know much about baking, but he was willing to learn for you.

The drive to your place was short, not too far away from the cafe. Your apartment complex was tucked away from the main parts of town, hidden just a few miles away from Taylor’s and the diner.

It was a quiet yet cozy neighborhood, everything about it screamed your name.

Flowers of all kinds littered the boulevard, bright yellows and pinks peeking out through the tall green grass and dancing in the sun, accompanied with a light breeze of air as he drove by.

Stray kittens and puppies roamed the sidewalk like community pets, nuzzling up against the ankles of children who walked hand in hand with their parents and siblings towards the bus stop for school.

Tall oak trees that had been standing for years lined the sidewalks housing birds and their babies on branches where they also got the best view of the sunrise at their peaks.

Elderly couples mingled with others, dressed in their cozy morning attire and some still in their pajamas hoping to get some exercise in the summer nice weather that would soon be replaced with autumn.

Quite frankly this place held everything and more that Steve wanted for his life. The atmosphere filled with some sort of magic potion that had him wanting to stay forever if it meant that he got to walk these same sidewalks and drive down the same roads with you by his side.

It was stupid and far-fetched idea considering the circumstances he was in, but he’d still like to think that someday this would be the place he called home. Somewhere where he didn’t have to just watch happy people living their lives with the ones they loved, but where he could be doing the same too.

“Here we are.” Steve whistled, turning his wheel into the complex a few blocks away from the main homes.

He was glad you lived on the ground floor, not because it would save him time to take all the items into yours, but because your place greeted him through the windshield every time he pulled up and placed his car into park next to yours.

Your front porch, while not having much space, was still decorated with everything that made you, you.

Fresh herbs planted in a small basin that sat on the railing of the entrance and a trellis of green vines resting against the wall beside your front door. There was a welcome mat placed at the doorstep along with a pair of gardening boots that were too big your size, an attempt to scare off potential burglars who want to mess with a hypothetical giant with a size 10 foot — Steve laughed like a maniac when you told him about that.

He shut the car off, reaching for the coffees and juggling the box in one hand as he shut the door with his hip and approached your front door steps.

Setting down his drink, he brought his fists up to the door knocking firmly. “Sweetheart, it’s me!”

He waited, listening to hear your voice call out for him followed by your footsteps thudding against the wooden floors as you ran towards the door, but all he heard was silence. Not even the sound of music playing through your record player or the morning news on your television.

Just pure silence.

He frowned, knocking again this time a little louder. “You in there? It’s Steve.”

Still no answer.

He pressed his ear to the door, complete silence, not even a peep of water running from the shower which confirmed his suspicion that you were still very much asleep. Though he wasn’t surprised, you were probably in bed sleeping soundly after all the work you did yesterday.

Steve set the items down on the porch, looking around the area until his eyes landed on the pot tucked away in the corner — it was a fake succulent where you planted a spare key. He tried to tell you how unsafe it was to keep a key out there in the open but you claimed no one would try to pluck a key out of a creepily real looking cactus.

Smart girl you were.

“Gotcha.” He smirked, plucking the key away from the bottom of the pot and approaching the door with it in hand.

“I’m coming in, cupcake.” Steve called out one last time with a knock. A warning, hopeful that you finally had woken up but to no avail there was still silence.

He sighed, sticking the key into the lock and turning it open and carefully pushing the door in not wanting to startle you. But alas, he didn’t think that it was even possible when you were cramped up on the couch sleeping soundly.

“Oh, christ.” He said under his breath, quietly stopping in his tracks.

You had a blanket partially pulled over yourself keeping you warm enough to bear the entire night. Your hair was sprawled out across the cushions, strands resting along your cheeks. You slept like a baby, curled up in an awkward yet comfortable position.

Steve quickly picked up the coffees and baked goods, shutting the door as quietly as possible as he toed off his shoes and rested the items onto the coffee table.

He looked towards the kitchen, finally aware of the sheer magnitude of work you had been doing. Sure it was a bit of a mess, but he was relieved a bit to know that you got some rest like he suggested.

“Sweetheart,” Steve whispered softly, bending at the couch where he shook your shoulders gently.

You only stirred, keening as you nuzzled yourself deeper into the cushions, eyes pinching tighter to stay asleep. He felt terrible for having to be the one to wake you up, but it had to be done.

“Honey, it’s almost seven… you gotta get up.” He spoke a tad louder, brushing back your hair out of your face until you pressed your cheek to his hand, gluing it there so he couldn’t move.

“Hmmm, no it’s not.” You argued sleepily with your eyes still closed, licking your lips as you remained comfortable.

You were cute even at this early hour and he would have loved to let you stay in bed but he knew it would throw off your entire game plan and have you rushing more than you already were.

“C’mon doll,” He shook you again, this time with enough firmness to get your eyes pinching and peaking open.

He gave you a small smile, mouthing ‘good morning,’ as you stared blankly at him, not a single thought behind your tired eyes other than it had to have been a dream that felt too real.

“I had to use the key to get in… you fell asleep out here last night.” His voice was faint, not wanting to rudely pour all this information on you so early in the morning.

Clear confusion accompanied the tiredness, just starting to really wake up and fathom that Steve was hovering above you and it wasn’t a trick your brain was playing on you..

“W-what?” You yawned, shutting your eyes again and giving them a rub.

“It’s 7 in the morning, sweet thing. You overslept a little.” His thumb moved up to caress the skin under your eyes, soothing your harsh rubbing.

You moaned out an objection, shaking your head against his hand, “No, I didn’t.”

He laughed, shaking his head at your positivity before finally pulling his hand from your cheek to lift his sleeve and hover the watch over your face.

“Look, honey.”

It took you a second, eyes still clouded with fatigue as you squinted up at the hands of the clock. Slowly you began to process it, the short hand pointing sharply at the 7 and the mere fact that Steve was in fact before your eyes with the purest look of fondness despite the hour.

“Holy shit!” Your eyes widened, pushing the blankets off yourself in a haste and sitting up.

“It’s okay—”

Your eyes darted to him, frowning deeply, torn between embarrassment and stupidity for having him wait out there for god knows how long.

“I swear I set a timer for fifteen minutes,” you huffed, pointing towards the coffee table for the stupid kitchen timer that he proceeded to pick up and shake.

“I was supposed to take out the trash and pack up the cookies.” You explained, watching as he sat it back down and gave you a reassuring shake of his head, unbothered by the situation.

“It’s okay, maybe you just didn’t hear it.” He tried, hoping you would give yourself the benefit of the doubt instead of beating yourself up.

You took a deep breath, offering a tight smile as you patted the space next to you and gathered the blankets over your shoulders. He took a seat, getting comfortable beside you, watching how you closed the space until your knees were knocking against each other.

“I’m really so sorry… were you waiting long?” You glanced over to him.

He shook his head, reaching over to brush your hair over your shoulder. “Nope, I just got here. Thought I told you to rest up last night?”

“You did,” You said guilty, watching his hand drop back down to his lap, “Buuut I just wanted to get a few more things done and I was supposed to have a power nap then clean the place up.”

You combed your fingers through the roots of your head, resting your elbows on your knees as you realized the mess was still very much there and Steve had to be here to witness the catastrophe.

Just as quickly as his hand dropped to his lap, it came back out to rest over your knee, fingers rubbing assuringly as he gave you a sequence of squeezes to get you looking at him again.

“S’okay, you needed it.” He assured you, his touches never ceasing as his chin poked out towards the coffee table. “I got you some coffee and your favorite.”

Sure enough there was a box of piping hot cronuts filling your apartment with their decadence, and a cup of your favorite morning drink rested right beside his half finished one.

Steve’s generosity was something you never thought you could get used to, but by now you should’ve known that he always went above and beyond… at least for you.

“You didn’t have to.” You whispered thankfully, closing your eyes as you tilted your head onto his shoulder.

He slotted closer to you, keeping his thumbs rubbing your skin in random patterns as you felt him shake his head against yours, simply murmuring, “I wanted to,” in the quiet space.

For once, in the last few days that you spent in the haze of stress and anxiety, today felt like the calmest morning you had all week. Despite you nearly burning your apartment down and falling asleep in the living room in less than 24 hours, with Steve here, it seemed like he brought some sort of magical potion that had you thinking everything was going to be okay.

It was difficult for your heart to swell and get tight in the confines of your chest when you realized that peace could be this. The two of you spending mornings like this, even when you were the farthest thing from peace – maybe it was him who could give it to you.

The two of you sat around for a few minutes in complete silence, just enjoying each other's presence for what it was worth right now. Something about it felt domesticated in the best way possible, knowing the simplest things in life like this were free.

“I’m gonna go shower really quick.” You announced, slowly pulling away from his side and stretching your arms out.

He retracted his hand from your skin, being the first to stand up, “I’ll put your coffee in the fridge for now.” Steve headed towards the kitchen with your drink in hand.

Your feet continued across the floors padding towards your bedroom, bed still freshly made having not slept on it the night before. Sure your back should have been aching from sleeping on the less than suitable couch, but you got the rest you needed and that’s what mattered.

You pulled open your closet, settling for a loose dress to sport instead of jeans knowing they’d probably be covered in flour and sugar by the end of the day. You pulled your towel from the hanger on your door and walked across the hall towards the bathroom.

Catching a glance at yourself in the mirror, you looked exhausted — the clear fatigue that had been building up over the last couple of days settled and ended up with the after effects of the burnout showing on your skin. A cold shower was what you needed, icy water cascading your body, doing its very best to wake you up and rid you of the exhaustion.

You didn’t keep Steve waiting long, out of the shower in less than fifteen minutes and by then you could hear the slight clambering of dishes coming from the kitchen.

“Have you eaten yet?” You shouted loud enough to hear, combing your fingers through your semi-damp ends.

More clambering came through the door, before you heard a loud dramatically loud scoff, “Without you? Of course not!”

You grinned in the mirror, rolling your eyes at his quick wit before finally shutting off the lights and heading down the hallway to see what he was up to.

Once you got him in sight, his hands were drying the dishes in the rack and there was no longer the clutter of the dirty ones in the sink. He stacked the mixing bowls on top of one another before noticing your presence lingering behind him.

“I took out the trash and did some dishes. Didn’t want to get started without you.” He hung the damp towel over the oven handle before gesturing over to the empty trash can that was once overflowing.

“Steve, you’re a guest.” You chastised, going around the kitchen to pick up the small bits of trash that stuck around.

“A considerate one at the least.” He shrugged his shoulders, following you around like a lost puppy and offering his hand out to take the remnants of the garbage from you to toss into the bin himself.

“Well, thank you.” You grinned, moving around him to throw it in trash, before he grunted out a snicker.

“C’mon let’s sit down and eat before we get going.”

He had already brought some plates out, moving next to the drawers to grab some utensils. For whatever reason, warmth bloomed in your heart, happy to see that Steve was just as comfortable in your home as you were in his. Simplicity in him knowing where things were was a sort of happiness you couldn’t explain.

You bit your lip, walking over to the fridge to open it before looking over your shoulder. “Did you want me to make some more food?”

He shook his head, opening the box of cronuts and fishing two out for the both of you. “I’m okay, but I could whip up some scrambled eggs for you?”

He looked up from the sweets, seeing you nod your head with a desperate look on your face as you held your stomach. Last night you hadn’t eaten much so you really needed to make up for it by having a hearty meal to set you up for the rest of the day's work.

“Coming right up.” He drummed his fingers off the dining table, as you switched places.

The kitchen was soundly, not much with chatter this early in the morning, but with the sizzling from the pan as Steve poured in the eggy mixture and the soft buzz of the toaster oven where you warmed up the cronuts. It wasn’t like the morning at Steve’s where you waltzed around the kitchen — it was much slower, yet filled with the same amount of domesticity.

Steve could tell you were still tired, the grogginess seeping slowly out of your bones the more you sipped on your coffee and tapped your toes against the tiles watching the oven closely. You weren’t trying to hide it from him on purpose, but he noticed that with every small yawn you let out, you turned away from him, trying to brush it off with a headshake.

He didn’t put a spotlight on it though, just happily smiling to himself as he stirred the eggs and watched you in his peripheral vision. The high pitched ding rang through the small space and you sighed contently, slipping on the oven mitt and reaching for a pair of tongs to grab the pastries, plating them nicely on two plates.

“You can start eating if you want.” He insisted, turning his head to follow you when you skimmed past him

You hummed disapprovingly, setting them on the coffee table before making your way back to him,“No, come on I’ll wait for you. Let me wash the–”

He lunged over, getting in the way of you turning on the faucet, “Stop it, you’re gonna overwork yourself.”

You huffed at the absurdity of the situation, seeing as though he was the one who was already overworking himself and it was barely 8 in the morning.

“I’ve barely done anything all morning.” You argued with a light laugh, attempting to get past his arms and switch the water on.

Still he stood his ground, not letting your pushing move him with your nudges, “Considering the amount of work you did last night, you shouldn't be doing anything right now.”

You crossed your arms over your chest tilting your head at him. “You’re not gonna give up, are you?”

He shook his head, pointing back at the living room with the spatula still in hand. “Not a chance! Now go sit down, I’ll be there in a second.”

“Fine!” You drawled, heavily stomping your foot down and turning on your heel back to the living room.

Steve’s eyes never left yours, even when his back was turned to you, he could feel you attempting to tidy up your living room in the slightest way, to which he simply bellowed, “sit and relax,” before you were shuffling back into the couch cushions, mumbling how he had eyes on the back of his head like a mother would to which he laughed.

The kids would certainly agree.

After a few minutes, you heard the burner shut off, and his footsteps walking over to you.

“Breakfast is served.” he announced, setting the eggs in front of you.

“You’re an angel.” You looked at him, grinning as he handed you a fork from where it was hiding behind his back.

“I’m flattered.” He took a seat beside you and picked up his plate, “So tell me what’s the plan for today.”

You took a bite out of your eggs, chewing and swallowing them down. “Yesterday I made the frosting for the cupcakes so today we’re gonna make them and ice them.”

“What flavor?”

“Maple and Raspberry.”

His face twisted, lips curled up before he spoke, “I’ve never heard of that combination before.”

“No silly,” You covered your mouth from giggling, “The maple frosting is for the brown sugar cupcakes and the raspberry frosting is for the hibiscus cupcakes, but they also do have a little bit of raspberry in them.”

His bottom lip jutted out over his top one, nodding at your correction, before he lifted a playful brow at you. “But can’t you tell I trust you so much that I thought Maple and Raspberry would be good together?”

Steve trusted you more than he trusted himself which said a lot considering that he was usually pretty set and stone with the way he did things in his own life. After all, his parents didn't play a big role in his so he had to figure out a lot of it by himself. But when it came to you, trust came easy knowing you wouldn’t drop his hand if you told him you wouldn’t. That was the territory between you both, promising and keeping your word – never letting the other fall.

“If we have any extras maybe we can test it out.” You suggested with a nudge of your elbow into his arm as the two you both smiled and continued to eat.

“How was work yesterday? I didn’t get the chance to ask you over the phone.” You shifted your knees towards him.

His face covered with mock horror, while you playfully gasped, watching him set his plate down.“Hell. I honestly think it was the most grueling eight hours of my life.”

“It couldn’t be that bad.” You tried to reason with disbelief in your voice, because really, how bad could it have been?

“Being forced to work a shift with Keith is literal hell. I mean for one he could not shut up and for someone who claims they love movies, he just kept talking over all of the stupid tapes I put on to try to shut him out.” Steve rolled his eyes at the recollection, so thrilled that he wasn’t stuck in the same predicament today.

“And isn’t Robin working with him today?” You stifled your laughter, for your dear friend who was probably dealing with Keith all by herself right now.

There was a devious smirk replacing his distaste for yesterday realizing he had planned it accordingly without realizing.

“Yep, but she’s got a half day so technically she’s only spending half a day in hell with him.”

“You’re horribly considerate for someone who was upset that she called out for a girl.”

Steve shrugged nonchalantly, knowing he couldn’t be too upset at Robin. After all, she was his best friend and sure he was pissed for having to work with Keith, but he was happy that she finally got to spend time with Vicky, the same girl she had been pining over since forever.

“Had I known it was for Vicky I would’ve called out too and came down here to help out sooner, but I thought she caught the flu or something.” He turned his nose up, happier that his best friend didn’t catch anything bad except the love bug.

Your face contorted with irritation at yourself, waving your hand in the air, “Trust me when I say you’d be glad you skipped out on the mess yesterday.”

He didn’t skip a beat, shaking his head at you being ridiculous because he’d never miss out a chance to be with you.

“I wouldn’t have minded anyway.”

While his words were true, and you definitely believed that he wouldn’t have minded considering he cleaned up the place while you were showering, you felt a little hopeless knowing he was picking up the pieces when he didn’t have to.

“You know I still feel a little bad that you’re spending your day off helping me bake.” You placed the plate onto the table, letting your shoulders sulk deeper with your hands twiddling in your lap.

“Why?” He lifted his brows, genuinely confused at why you would feel bad for him where there was nowhere else he’d rather be.

You gave him a small shrug, looking up at him with uncertainty. “Because you should be doing something you want to do or better yet resting in bed preferably.”

He hated when you tried to look out for him more than yourself, immediately taking your nervous fingers away from your lap and holding them in his. You stared at him, holding on tight and wondering what was going to come out of his mouth.

“I am doing something I want to do with the person I prefer to be with right now.”

There was a twinge of vulnerability in his tone and you could see the way it painted his features whole. How you could tell, he was telling the truth about wanting to be here with you and not just doing it because he felt obligated to.

Your heart was seriously going to break itself out of your chest soon.

“You’re gonna regret saying that once I turn your kitchen into a disaster.” You joked, squeezing his hand in yours and not letting go.

He pursed his lips, shaking your comment off, preparing for the said disaster in his kitchen as long as you were going to be there. Becoming a deadweight with his hand in yours, you easily pulled his arm up, neck adjusting to get the time on his watch.

“If I’m planning it out in my head correctly then we should be done by this afternoon and that way you can drop me off before traffic hits and I’ll drive down tomorrow morn—”

“Pack a bag and spend the night.”

“Huh?”

“Just stay the night at mine that way you won’t need to drive down so early for the farmers market.” He explained like you should’ve known it was the plan all along.

You couldn’t help but throw your head back, staring at the ceiling as you called out his name in faux exasperation.

“Steveeeee.”

“What?” He pursed his lips slyly, pulling you by the shoulders to get you looking at him again, “you’ll get to spend a few extra minutes in bed and you’ll be saving gas. Basically killing two birds with one stone.”

“But I don’t want to be stuck in your hair the entire day.” You protested.

His brows lifted suspiciously as his lips twitched up trying to resist the grin, “Woah, you plan on gluing yourself to me or something? Cause if you are, I don’t know if I could forgive you for messing up my mane.”

“You’re impossible,” You nudge his shoulder with a weak fist failing to hide your smile, “I don’t want to be a burden. What if you have plans?”

“I do have plans, silly.” He began, reaching for your hand and rubbing his thumbs across your open palms, “and all of them involve you.”

“You know you’re making this very hard for me to decline.” You attempted to harden your features, but to no avail the smile crept through.

He patted your knee with a victorious look on his face. “Good. We can spend the day baking and prepping then we can sit back and relax. Maybe go out by the pool and sunbathe… Oh! And I got a new tape so we can watch it before bed or something.”

“Sounds tempting.” You fizzled through your teeth, squinting your eyes decisively.

“That means it’s working and you should say yes.” He whispered, like a voice of reason.

“Okay.”

“Great, now go pack a bag.” He patted your leg, one, two, three times before standing up and gathering your empty plates in a stack.

“Will you do me a favor while I do that?” You stood, trailing behind him into the kitchen where he was placing the dishes in the sink.

“Yes, I’ll wash the dishes—”

“No, not that!” You laughed, gesturing him towards the counters where a rack of cookies sat alongside other crafty materials. “I need you to package the cookies in little plastic baggies and tie them off with ribbon.”

“I can definitely do that, too.”

“I got a few done last night but fell asleep before I could finish.” You picked an example up, showing it to him.

“Don’t worry about it, I can do the rest.” He took the baggie from your hands, ushering you away with a shoo of his hands.

You thanked him before heading back into your bedroom quickly grabbing the canvas bag that hung above your door as you sifted through your drawers and closet for some clothes.

You picked out a floral dress for tomorrow's event, and settled for an extra set of intimates — you packed an oversized tee and some jeans in case but you knew Steve would let you borrow some of his if you needed and he still had your pair of overalls that he hadn’t given back yet.

“Do I double knot them?” Steve called out.

“Yeah and you can snip the ends to make them even!”

“Got it, thanks!”

You slung the bag over your shoulder, drawing the curtains and unplugging your lamp just in case since you’d be gone for the night… maybe even the entire weekend. The only thing left to pack was your skincare products, throwing them in a small pouch and making a mental note to set them on the bathroom counter when you got to his to prevent any from leaking out onto your clothes.

Steve finished off tying the last baggie of cookies, bunny earring them and snipping off little bits of the ends to try to make them look as cute as your sample did.

“What do you think?” He held his work of art up as he heard your footsteps coming closer.

You grinned, holding your hands out before he plopped it into your palm while you inspected it.

“They’re adorable!” You giggled, smoothing the frayed edges of the cut ribbon.

“Are you trying to be nice? You can tell me if they look bad.” He pouted, attempting to take it back from you to redo the bow knowing you took pride in anything that was yours.

You shook your head, keeping it towards your chest and away from him. “No, I’m serious! They look so cute, thank you for doing them.”

His cheek was met with a quick kiss, before you brushed past him putting down your things on the living floor before sauntering back into the kitchen with a mission to get everything ready to go.

“Y-you’re welcome,” He coughed out, kindly covering the crack in his voice with a sweet smile before he turned to watch you, “Anything else I can do?”

“Stop being so nice.” You poked out your tongue, beginning to pack the cookies into a brown bag for easier transportation.

He huffed, helping you without being asked, “Now that would turn me into Mike and I don’t think you’d want that.”

“Do you have some vendetta against him or something?” You questioned, hands hitting his with every grab and toss.

“Oh we all do” He snorted, swiftly sweeping the bag away from you, before pulling the keys out of his pocket.

“I’ll go put your stuff in my car.”

He proceeded to grab the rest of your belongings, lugging the bag you packed and the other stuff to his car all in one go. You triple checked all the appliances making sure everything was unplugged and turned off before you began drawing all the curtains to completely dim the place for the next couple of days.

“Ready to go?”

“Yep, just gonna grab the paintings.” You nodded, pointing to the small crate full of finished canvas that you would be selling at the market.

He didn’t let you even try, immediately beating you the distance and grabbing the box, holding it on his hip as he held the front door open for you. Sticking by your side as he watched you lock up, being your second eyes and even pulling on the handle for an extra precautionary measure.

The air conditioning had been running, thankfully cooling down the vehicle as you buckled in and watched from the rear view mirror while Steve closed the trunk shut and rounded his way into his seat and did the same.

“Why don’t you close your eyes until we get to my place?” He suggested, glancing over to you while turning on the radio trying to find a station you would enjoy.

A dramatic gasp left your lips as you slapped down his visor, opening the mirror to check yourself out. “Wow, do I look that tired?” You half joked, placing your hands on your cheeks in horror.

“Stop, that’s not what I meant,” He chuckled, reaching over to flip it back into place with a tight regretful smile, “What I meant to say was you didn’t get much sleep last night and it could help a little bit to just close your eyes before doing more work today.”

“But I feel bad, you’ll probably be so bored in complete silence.”

He wondered if you always worried about him this much and while it was cute, he’d have to tell you to stop eventually, because worrying would do you no good, especially if it was about him.

“You know, you’re gonna need to stop feeling bad for me all the time.” He lectured, tilting his head at you.

“I can’t help it when you’re stuck with me.”

“Will you please just try to nap at least?” His voice was more optimistic and you nodded skeptically.

“Fine, but you have to wake me up if you get bored.”

“Deal. Here, this’ll be more comfy.” He said, leaning across the console and reaching for the lever to lean your chair back all the way for max comfortability. You covered your face, laughing behind them as you wiggled and got comfier in the seat.

“Comfier?” He brought his hands back to the wheel, watching as you nodded your head with closed eyes.

“Way better than my couch.” You mumbled, positioning yourself towards him, still getting snug in the confines of his car.

He pulled up the emergency break, beginning the journey with one last look at you. “I’ll wake you up when we get there, sweetheart.”

Steve knew you were a natural in the kitchen — ran that place like it was your second home, but what he didn’t anticipate was how you worked when it came to strictly baking. Perhaps him suggesting the nap on the drive to his place was a great idea considering the fact that you were wide awake and running on that coffee he picked up.

He could barely keep up, straying behind to wherever you would go — oven, pantry, fridge, sink, repeat. It was endearing and far from something that Steve would categorize as chaos, in his eyes this was your comfort, somewhere it all just came to you naturally, which also included dishing out tasks, ones that Steve was happy to take up.

His bottom lip was pulled between his teeth, brows scrunching towards the center of his forehead while his hands squeezed the piping bag and wrists swirled it slowly around the tops of the cupcakes.

You bent at the hips, looking through the glass window of the oven checking up on the loaves that had been baking, making sure they were rising properly. Standing up straight, you dusted your hands sneaking up behind Steve to catch a glimpse from over his shoulders.

“You’re doing great!” You whispered cheerfully, not wanting to throw him off his focus.

His shoulders only bumped as he chuckled, head tilting abruptly to the side before finishing off the swirl and setting the piping bag down.

“It’s a little crooked don’t you think?” Steve frowned, picking up the treat and holding it out in front of him.

You shook your head, rubbing his shoulders, “They’re perfect and you’re a complete pro already.”

“Okay now that’s a reach.” He placed it down, turning to you with an unconvinced yet charming grin.

You tucked your cheek into your shoulder, shrugging, “What? I’m being serious! I messed up like a whole dozen cupcakes before I ever got good and here you are only three in and they’re gorgeous.”

“You’re really making me consider switching careers to part time cupcake piper you know that?”

“I’ll hire you on the spot.”

“Geez, offer a man some insurance first.”

Your face twisted apologetically before spreading with a self indulgently smile, “Probably can’t do that, but I can assure you I know how to properly dress a cut if you end up slicing your hand open!” You chirped sweetly, tapping his cheek with an affectionate pat chuckling against your touch.

The ding of the timer set off, prompting you to turn around and make your way back to the oven, slipping on the mits. A gush of hot air enveloped you as you took out the hot loafs, setting them on the stove. Quickly you shut the door, tossing off the mits as you inspected them with your eyes first.

“How do they look?” Steve asked, coming beside you as you poked the tip of a knife through the center checking if it was baked all the way through.

A quick second to examine the knife to ensure there was no residue was all it took before you nodded, “Wonderful, but they’ll look even better once I glaze them.”

“What do you need?” He rose his brows heading over to the cabinets ready to get whatever you needed.

Likewise you went towards the fridge, “Powdered sugar and preferably whole milk — ah ha! Whole milk it is.” you clicked your tongue, peeking past the door to see him looking through the tins and bags.

He cursed under his breath, closing the door a bit to meet your eyes. “I don’t think I’ve got any powdered sugar in here. I should've asked you last night if you needed anything before.”

You shook your head, turning back towards the fridge, “That’s okay, we can go to the store together later?” You suggested going to put the milk back.

He snapped his fingers, pointing at you. “Better idea, why don’t you go now and I’ll stay back and finish frosting up these cupcakes, hmm?”

“I could wait for you, I don’t need to frost them right away.”

“You need a break, sweetheart. I’ll be fine, here,” He paused, walking out of the kitchen with you trailing behind him into the living room, “Take my car and let me give you some cash.”

“Steve, I don’t need your money.” You countered with a light chuckle, taking the keys from him as he reached into his pocket shaking his head.

“No seriously, take it and get whatever you need. I feel like shit for not asking before and making sure I had all the ingredients.”

He truly felt horrible and you could tell in the way he scrunched his brows and shook his head more at himself than towards you. The last thing he wanted was to fuck up your whole process that he knew you always took the time to run through effortlessly.

“You’re already doing enough, you know.” You remind him with a tender rub to his shoulder, “It means a lot…you talking to me over the phone, bringing breakfast over this morning, and taking all the way here to make sure I wasn’t lonely.”

It was a true sentiment that you spoke and meant every word of. You were sure that no amount of baked goods or thank yous would ever be enough to show Steve how grateful you were.

“I wanted to, you’ve done so much for everyone, me especially.” He knew you went out of your way for everyone including himself, putting everyone first except you.

“Well, I wanted to.” You assured him.

“In that case, I want you to take this and get whatever we need. Please?” He placed the bills in the palm of your hand, smiling when you nodded and palmed it.

“Do you want anything specific? I think I’m just gonna pick up a bag of powdered sugar and a small thing of white chocolate chips for the scones.” You picked up your purse you had thrown onto the coffee table where you arrived.

He shook his head, walking you to the front door and pulling it open, waiting as you slipped back on your footwear. “I’m alright, I don’t need anything. Just drive safely and don’t be scared to use the horn if you need it.”

You let out a laugh, tiptoeing and placing a kiss on his cheek, “I will and don’t stress about the cupcakes, they already look perfect.”

As you buckled your seatbelt and adjusted the mirrors, you took one more look out the windshield, waving a “see you in a bit,” to the boy watching from the driveway. It was funny to think that the first time you’d been there, you had been sitting in your own car anticipating the entire moment of meeting everyone and now you were there in his car knowing you’d be back in no time.

Hawkins wasn’t new territory to you. You have frequented the place for years, but it was just a little funny that throughout all the years, these roads never led you to Steve, and all your friends for that matter, until now.

The grocery store you walked into was the same one where you met Robin and from there the rest was history. Funny enough, you hadn’t been there since that interaction — it felt like forever but at the same time it had only been a matter of weeks. Time was silly thing, and it just so happened that all the fates aligned in some magical way.

You strolled through the aisles with a small basket in hand, picking up the necessities while also checking out what they had in stock this time of year. It was in the produce section that you ran into the sweetest lady in town, Joyce, who was seemingly glaring at the tower of apples debating on which ones to pick.

“Granny Smiths, Fuji, and Galas are the go-to if you’re gonna use them for baking, but if not then any will do, just make sure none of them have noticeable dents.”

You snuck up beside her, stifling your laughter as she jumped for the initial scare, then again, but with a smile on her face when she realized that it was you.

“Honey! Oh my god, I feel like I haven’t seen you in forever!” She quickly engulfed you in a hug, before you finally greeted her properly.

“Are you here with Steve?” She asked, looking around to see if he was nearby.

You shook your head, checking out the pile of apples and picking some for you and him as a snack.. “No, he’s actually back at his place frosting cupcakes for tomorrow.”

An impressed smile was plastered on her face, her cheeks lifting with a cheeky blush, “He’s just the best huh?” she teased, as you giggled and rolled your eyes playfully.

“Who’s the best?”

The deep voice bellowed a few feet behind you, prompting you to look over your shoulder, and down came Hopper sporting a surprising pale pastel button up, lugging two boxes of Coca-Cola. He gave you a pointed look, something that silently said, “please don’t comment on my non-work attire,” to which you honored, obviously.

“Hey Hop,” You waved, reaching out to give him a small hug after he placed the drinks into the cart. He patted your arm, before letting his drape over your shoulder as you laughed and let him be.

“We were talking about Steve,” Joyce started, “He’s back at home helping her out with the bake sale for tomorrow.”

He peered down on you with a stern nod, “Well isn’t that great. Drove down here yourself? Car not giving you any issue right?”

He really was a dad right down to his core. If you told him how you’ve been avoiding driving your car for the past couple of days, he would probably suggest he go check it out then and there.

“Oh no, Steve actually picked me up this morning and let me take his car to come here for some stuff we needed.”

“He let you drive his car?” He questioned, taken aback and clearly so as he dropped his arm and propped it up on his hip.

“I know, crazy right. He has a lot of trust in me.” You coughed up a laugh, while Joyce piped in something about how she thought it was sweet of him to do.

“Says a lot considering he never even lets me take her for a spin.” He shook his head, dramatically clicking his tongue at all the times he had failed to get the keys to the Harrington vehicle.

Joyce groaned, tilting her head at him.“That’s because you’re a forty year old man that drives like a drunk sixteen year old on prom night.”

“Ouch!” He shouted, face coated in fake hurt as she brushed him off.

Turning her attention back to you when you asked, “Will I be seeing you guys tomorrow?”

She smiled brightly, clapping her hands towards herself, “Oh of course! I’m helping Karen run her book exchange booths.”

“And I am acting as security.” Hop announced, plucking an apple and taking a bite out of it.

“Just you? Where’s the rest of your unit?” You pestered him jokingly.

He only shrugged, mouth full of half chewed up apples as he replied.“I have no idea, but the event will need some securing.”

“Honey, it’s a farmers market. I don't think there’s anything to be securing.” Joyce reasoned.

“We’ll see about that.” He shot back with no harm.

Their bickering was always light hearted and fun, something you could appreciate because it was the laughter that always kept the relationship lively. And in any relationship for that matter, laughter was like the heartbeat to it all, something so witty, but essential — you wondered if you and Steve sounded like that from time to time.

You took a deep breath, smiling as you opened your arms, and reached over to give Joyce a farewell hug.

“Well I should get going, I don’t want to be gone too long.”

“Of course, tell Steve we said hello and we’ll see you all tomorrow.”

“Will do!” You said, pulling away, and doing the same to Hopper.

“Bye kid.” He patted your head before letting you go your separate way.

The drive back home was as pleasant as the drive over, just lacking in company. You didn’t think that you’d get used to driving Steve's car without him being there in the passenger, but still, it was a thoughtful offer and it did give yourself some time to clear your head of all the stress that you endured yesterday though much of it was already gone since you woke up this morning.

You placed it in park when you got into his driveway, grabbing all the grocery bags in one go before you exited the car and made sure it was locked up. The front door was surprisingly unlocked, meaning Steve hadn’t moved since you left. You’d lecture him about leaving the door unlocked when there were freshly frosted cupcakes that burglars would most definitely take first.

“Steve, I’m back!” You called out, toeing off your sandals at the foyer before you made your way into the living room dropping his keys back onto the coffee table.

“Still in the kitchen!”

You lugged the bags along, lifting them in the air as you walked through the doorway.

“I know you told me you didn’t want anything but I ended up grabbing a bag of tangerines and I was thinking we could make some drinks for when we go out to the — oh my god!”

They fell with a heavy clunk to the ground and thank goodness there wasn’t any glass in there, but the poor apples would definitely be bruised. Steve turned his head over his shoulder, quickly shutting off the water as you stared at the loaves sitting on a raised plate as the excess icing dripped off the sides.

“Sur-prise?” He cracked a nervous smile, wiping his hands dry, hoping to receive the right reaction from you.

“You iced the loaves?!”

If your tone came sharper than you meant, he didn’t notice it and neither did you. Steve was too busy watching the surprise wash over your features — the way your eyes widened and mouth hung open.

He leaned against the counters, still watching you until your eyes finally met his. Picking up the index card you had brought from home, and walking over to the pantry, pulling out a now empty bag of powdered sugar, and placing them on the counter.

“I may or may not have lied about the powdered sugar but yeah, I read the recipe card and followed it to the tee.”

He paused, opening a drawer to retrieve a spoon, scooping up a little of the excess that dripped into a bowl before handing it over to you, “Here, give it a taste, please.”

You could tell he was nervous, eyes leaking anticipation while he held it out, his hands nearly shaking. It was cute that he got so nervous, like you could ever be mad at him for trying his hand at something so thoughtful of him to do. So you took the spoon, sticking it into your mouth before you promptly hummed around it, nodding your head at him with wide eyes that should’ve been enough to tell him he did great.

“Fuck did I mess it up?” He spoke with an uneasy feeling, swiping his finger into the bowl and grabbing a sample to taste, pressing his lips together to try to decipher if something was terribly wrong.

You shook your head hastily, removing the spoon from your mouth before twirling it in the air, “No you nailed it, like absolutely nailed it!”

Still even with your assurance, he seemed to doubt himself, picking up the bowl for himself, moving it around to test the consistency of the frosting. He held it out towards you, tipping it back and forth.

“It’s not too runny? I think I added more than a capful of milk.”

Instead of trying to ease his worries with words, you simply rounded the corner, taking the bowl away from him so all he could focus on was you. It was cute that now you could see what Steve meant when he said you go into your head all too much — maybe he was right when he said self-doubt would get you nowhere but a headache.

“You did perfect,” You began, dusting off the powdered sugar off his t-shirt, looking up at him with a grin, “not too runny, not too thick. Just right.”

It was enough to stop him in his tracks, ironing the worries away in the same way he did yours more often than not. The hand on his chest didn’t leave, when the words stopped, in fact you kept it there, smoothing the wrinkles of his shirt without really thinking much of it, while Steve tried to keep his composure and heart in his chest.

“S-so what did you buy?” He deterred his sights, looking towards the floor where the groceries still sat.

You squinted, hand stopping its movements, as you flashed him a sneaky smile shaking your head before slightly digging your fingers into the dough of his chest.

“No, we’re not just gonna skim over that whole thing…you lied to me!” You shrilled.

And like that, the kitchen erupted with laughter, Steve failing to keep up the innocent act, and you beyond astounded that you fell for it. He held his hands up in defense as playfully pushed him away, even stepping back as he tried to move closer, just to be theatrical.

“Okay technically I didn’t lie lie!” He countered with his hands waving in the air. You crossed your arms over your chest, raising a brow at him, “I thought I didn’t have enough of it but after you left, I measured it out and like the recipe said, a half cup sugar for each of the loaves and I just so happen to have one cup.”

He was the sweetest boy you’ve ever met: not a chance you could be upset even if it was just pretend.

Steve had already done so much for you in less than 24 hours. From dealing with your anxiety over the phone, to driving all the way to you, and then on top of that trying to take the stress off your plate.

There was a pinch between your brow, beginning to grow deeper and your lip caught between your teeth. The longer you didn’t say anything, the more Steve caught the tell-tale signs of your guilt knowing you hated that he was doing so much and you finally got a break you deserved.

He was just as quick to reassure you, stepping forward and testing the waters to see if you’d close the space and to which you did, pouting up at him with an adorable frown until your chest met his in a hug.

You could feel him smile against your head, hands wrapped around your body as he tightened the hold tenderly, “I wanted to do it. You needed a break.” He murmured into your hair as you chuckled into the fabric of his shirt.

It felt routine by now, and you didn’t need to thank him verbally when he gave you a nod as soon as he pulled away and saw the sincere look upon your face. The way he was able to read you like an open book felt personal, the only kind of way that you wanted to be read by him. Ins and outs of you already memorized so carefully with little to no room to question if he was right or not.

You didn’t want him to question anything, especially not you.

Taking a deep breath, you shakily let it out, slowly pulling away from each other until you looked over the counters and to the ground.

“Tangerines.” You called out, moving across the tiles.

“Huh?”

“I picked up some tangerines at the grocery store.”

You handed him the netted bag of fruits that he easily ripped open and let them spill over the table top, “They’re in season?” He pursed his lips, inspecting the fruit carefully.

You nodded, reaching out for the remnants of its packaging, smoothing it out to show him the label, “They’re from Long Beach, California.”

It piqued his interest, looking over at you like you’d know the answer to his curiosity, “Do you think they grow on Sunrise Boulevard?”

You giggled, shrugging your shoulders while you unloaded the rest of the items. “Probably. I’ve never been so I don’t know for sure.”

“We should go someday.”

He extended the invitation as if you, a paycheck to paycheck living individual, could ever afford a trip like that in a heartbeat. But it was the fact that he extended it in the first place that had your insides twisting and turning like a lovesick fool.

We. The possibility of you two going together. And he said it as sweetly as it sounded, honey dripping from his lips, with a smile oh so beautiful that you could really believe that maybe you two could go together one day — even if the rest of your friends tagged along.

As long as he was there with you there was always the possibility of we.

Steve often transported you back to middle school, the days where you caught yourself kicking your feet and blushing like an idiot over a boy who said all the right things. The only difference is Steve didn’t let you crash and burn on the ground. With him, things feel different.

“We should.” You said, lifting your hanging head, not caring anymore about hiding the red flush of your cheeks.

“Good.” He smiled with a nod that he was more so giving himself, his brain spitting out all of the celebratory phrases it could think of after seeing the double vision of your rose blush.

For once, the both of you seem to be a bit braver in your endeavors, holding the intimate eye contact in the silence of birds chirping from outside the flung windows and the whistle of the wind. If you two were a cartoon animation, your hearts would have been jumping out of your chests, and interlocking hands by now.

His eyes didn’t stare blankly at you, and yours certainly didn’t shoot dangers through him. It was as if you both were swimming in each other, taking one another in without a single word spoken because none needed to be said.

You both knew it and you both could hear it in the silence.

“Why don’t we go for a swim, yeah? Call it a day with the baking and just… just spend some time?”

Together he wanted to say. Something that should’ve slipped freely but instead died in his throat, too scared to let you know what spending time together really meant to him, between the both of you, actually.

“I’d love that.”

You kicked Steve out of the kitchen, claiming that he could at least let you finish up the cleaning after he had lied to you about the powdered sugar. You could hear him from the stairs, still arguing that it wasn’t really a lie, making you shake your head and snort while you wiped down the counters.

He emerged as you finished washing the sticky icing bowl, wearing nothing but a pair of swim trunks with two towels under his arm. You were sure, he caught you staring for a second, before kicking you out the kitchen to go get changed while he made you both drinks and skimmed the pool for dead leaves and critters.

Getting changed in the confines of his bedroom felt like the first time you had been there all over again. Only this time you weren’t a stranger and he’s not waiting on the other side of the door for you to be done.

This time you’re a piece of his life and he’s waiting for you.

Slipping into your swimwear, you caught a glimpse of yourself in his mirror. It had occurred to you that this was the first time you would be as bare as you would be in front of him. Sure you weren’t a prude or anything, but you always felt a bit shy, and your feelings for Steve didn’t make it any better.

Not wanting to leave him waiting for so long, you plucked a random shirt from his dresser and threw it over yourself before jogging down the stairs and out the sliding door where he stood with the pool stick in hand, grabbing whatever that was floating on the surface.

“I’m back,” You made your presence known, moving beside him to see the small pile of leaves he gathered on the side of the pool.

Your nose turned up at the little critters that crawled away into the grass, before Steve whistled and pointed to the shaded umbrella, “M’almost done over here, I put your drink over there.”

The pool loungers had been tugged under the shade with towels laid out over the cushions and a variety of snacks sitting along inside the drinks.

“I just juiced some of the tangerines and stirred it with some tequila and margarita mix I had left. If it’s too strong, I can add more juice or make you another.”

You thanked him, walking over to take a seat and sip on the drink while you waited for Steve to finish the pool maintenance. A lot of his home was taken care of by him, and you could understand why if his parents weren’t home too often – it forced him to take up everything and keep everything in order.

You wondered why Steve never gave himself the credit he deserved. Only in his early twenties already taking on what most people in their late twenties still had a hard time getting a grove with. Yet he made it look flawless with little to no complaints about his situation and how this responsibility might have been too much for him.

But deep down in the pit of your stomach, you wondered if this place was really his home or a home he was looking after until he found his. It wasn’t entirely the same situation as yours, hell, you got out the moment freedom striked.

Steve had everything: enough money to pay for rent at a decent apartment nearby, all the life skills in the world, and himself — you just wondered why he was staying.

“How is it?” He called out, back facing you from the other side of the backyard where he stuffed the pool scopper back into the shed.

Your hand raised above your forehead blocking the sun as he walked towards you, the other picked up his drink handing it to him when he sat on the end of your lounger, thankfully blocking the remnants of rays for you.

You watched him take a sip, nodding his head at himself before looking over to you for your opinion.

“Good! Not too strong actually, I think the tangerine juice is great.” You bubbled, taking another sip of yours before placing it back on the table with a clink.

He hummed through his drink, before setting it down and taking a look at you. You had made more space for him on the lounger despite him having his own only a few feet away. Your legs tucked under yourself, and arms came to wrap around your midsection, attempting to hide from his gaze despite his t-shirt that was already drowning you.

You were naturally sheepish, and he knew that but he hoped you weren’t doing this just because he suggested it. The last thing he wanted was to force you into doing something you didn’t want to be doing. Hell, the both of you could be inside sitting in silence, and Steve would be happy, long as you were there.

“You know, we don’t have to swim if you don’t want to. We could just sit out here and talk, whatever you want okay? Whatever is comfortable—”

“No, no, I’m fine! I—I’m just a little shy, that’s all.” You shook your head, attempting to relax your tense muscles, untucking your legs from underneath you.

He grinned, nodding slowly, as his fingers grazed the sleeve of his shirt on your body. “That's okay, nothing wrong with that,” he assured you, meeting your eyes with a impish glint, “nice shirt by the way.”

“Thanks… for letting me borrow it, I mean.”

You looked down at the graphic, finally aware that it was an Eagles t-shirt, that unbeknownst to you was one of his favorites and only worn during special sports occasions. However he decided in his mind that anytime you wanted to wear the garment, it was a special occasion in itself. He wouldn’t want to have it any other way.

“Always.” He grinned, looking down into his lap, not wanting to frighten you with his ceaseless content.

The heat of Indiana wasn’t as fierce as it had been for the past summer and you hoped it would stick around, at least until tomorrow so you all could survive a pleasant farmers market afternoon. For now, you’d enjoy whatever mercy the season would have on the town with no complaints, especially when there was a mansion with a view sitting right beside you.

“Wanna get in?” You snapped out of your thoughts, eyes following his movements as he asked you and took another sip.

You sat up, legs extending over his as you looked out at the aquamarine reflection of the water. “Uh, yeah, do you have any sunblock, by any chance?”

He clicked his tongue, tapping his fingers against your shins. “Shit, yeah, sorry I totally forgot. I think the kids used up the last bottle but I have the spray kind, if that’s okay?”

“Of course.” You nodded, lifting your legs and letting him slide away.

He walked through the sliding door again, and you could hear the slight rustle of him looking through cabinets and cursing at himself that the kids must have misplaced it. With him still busy you took a deep breath, tugging the shirt off your body and smoothing your fingers over your skin.

You had nothing to be insecure about, not when it came to Steve's eyes. He’d seen you stripped down with your emotions – sadness, insecurity, exhaustion and everything in between. Him seeing you in a bathing suit was far less intimidating than it seemed.

“Sorry, I think Dustin must’ve knocked the cap off or something but it still sprays and… oh, h-hey.”

The sunblock slipped from his hands, poorly failing to juggle back into his grip in time before it clanked against the concrete. You didn’t give him an answer, simply lifting your brow before you choked out a fit of laughter, hunching over yourself to grab your tummy.

Steve didn’t mean to be such a man, but just a split second ago, you were covered up in his t-shirt which alone made his head spin, and now, he was seeing skin that had never been exposed before and he felt like he might pass out and knock his head into the concrete. Perhaps it would have been a terribly gruesome way to go out, but at least you were the last thing he got to look at before he went.

“I—I’m sorry!” He stuttered, turning away sharply as his throat bopped with a swallow, “I didn’t mean to say that, it kinda just slipped out. Feel free to totally hit or slap me right now, because that was super duper weird of me and—”

You stood up, prompting him to seal his lips as his eyes slowly turned to watch you pick up the sunscreen, beginning to spray the formula onto your arms, working it into your skin.

You looked up at him through your lashes, washing away his embarrassment as he saw you shake your head.“It’s fine, really. I don’t think it was weird, at all… just super duper funny.” You teased, scrunching your nose at him.

He breathed out a sigh of relief, still looking apologetic in his features.“I feel like an idiot,” he added, rubbing the back of his neck stiffly.

You tilted your head at him, wiggling the bottle in the air. “You can make up for it by getting my back for me?”

He took it from your hands, watching as you spun around and pulled your hair away. “You sure?”

You hummed, “Positive, unless you’re gonna say ‘hi’ to my behind too.” You joked, turning over your shoulder to see him scoff a laugh before spraying you down.

He was careful, asking permission before his hands even touched your skin, and then again when he had to work the product under the straps of the suit. His fingertips are light and gentle, and at the same time meticulous, making sure not to miss a spot and let a single sliver of your skin get burned by the sun.

“Want me to get yours too?” You suggested, spinning back around when his hands finally dropped from you.

“Only if you want to.”

“Spin, Harrington.” You twirled your finger in the air, grasping the sunblock and getting to work.

It was different, feeling your touch without a layer of clothing in the way. Sure, you’ve both slept in the same bed, practically in each other's arms with him shirtless, and you two definitely touched each other in the softest way that no one else did. But your touch right now was suffocating, eating him whole as he tried to breathe through it and tell himself that you were too good for him.

“You have a million beauty marks.” You murmured, breath fanning over his neck making him go dizzy.

He swallowed, turning over his shoulder to watch you rub the product over his shoulder blades, your fingers working mindfully under his gaze.

“B-beauty marks? Moles, you mean?”

You met his eyes, shaking your head with the softest look upon your face. “I prefer to call them beauty marks.”

“That’s cute.” He whispered as a reply.

“Yours are too.” You complimented, feeling him exhale soothingly while your hands worked the rest of the skin, ending it off by tapping your fingers against the beauty marks, “all done.”

You twisted the bottle shut, tossing it on the lounger for later when you two would have to reapply. Turning towards him you ran your hands up and down your arms, waiting for what was next.

“Are you a strong swimmer?” He lifted his brows, watching you think.

You blinked, thinking of all the rare moments you’ve ever been in a body of water there in the midwest. “J-just a little. Why?”

“Don’t want you to drown.” He said, a smirk growing on his face.

You shook your head, not understanding what he was getting at.

“Why would I— Steve!”

A squeal ripped through your throat, as he scooped you up into his arms bridal style, carefully walking you both over to the edge of the pool where hid your face in his chest expecting a gush of water without warning. He couldn’t help but chuckled, adjusting your higher with a small toss until you wrapped your arms around his neck securely.

“You ready?” He bellowed out into the air with a hoot, cradling your head gently for extra measure.

“Whenever you are.” You pinched your eyes shut, tucking yourself more into him as if that would make it less worse.

And like that, cold water engulfed your body all at once. Even in the big splash, Steve’s arms never left your body, keeping himself glued to you as you both came up to the surface and your hands brushed your hair away from your face.

“I got you,” Steve laughed, shaking the water away from his face and never daring to let his arms leave your body.

“It’s so cold!” You whimpered, immediately wrapping your legs around his hips, pulling yourself closer to his body where your jaw trembled against his collarbone.

He could feel you shaking in his arms, taking a bit longer to adjust to the coolness given the fact that you hadn’t been to a pool in ages. His hands ran up and down you back, pausing in between passes to knead your skin.

“You’ll warm up soon,” He guaranteed, kissing the side of your head before resting his chin on top of yours, the two of you fastened together with a stitch until your shivering fizzled out.

Usually Steve’s pool was filled with the bustle and shouts of children, water splashing everywhere and him standing on the sidelines with his hands on his hips, reminding the kids not to run on the wet pavement.

Though today it might have been the most peaceful it’s ever been.

Turns out, you’re not the best swimmer after all these years with little to no access to any pool or beaches, but you are one hell of a floater, giggling as Steve waded the water beside you, mimicking waves and moving you along the expanse.

You two attempted to race, doing laps back and forth, but you gave up a few seconds in, elbows resting on the concrete as you watched each stride he took against the water until he was back to you. Rubbing his eyes, he caught his breath and looked at you in disbelief.

“You beat me?!”

“By a long shot.” You joked, before he playfully rolled his eyes and swam closer to you.

His hands sneaking underwater reaching out to grip your thighs and throw them over his hips where you quickly held on tight as we took you both to the center of the expanse. There was little to no room between you both anymore, the personal space bubble had popped long ago and now it was a shared out that sheathed the both of you.

Steve didn’t think he could let you go, even if he tried.

With your backs beneath the sun, everything felt right. Clearing the air, you breathed in the mix of chlorine and each other. The only sounds were the whistle of the wind, the swoosh of the water around you, and your harbored inhales and exhales.

It was all consuming in the best way possible.

For Steve, the city he had lived in his entire life felt as cruel as the loves in his past. And there were a lot of loves: platonic and romantic, yet nothing felt entirely like this – not even close. There was always a flaw, a blemish in time that made the past never work out the way he had hoped, but there was a gut wrenching realization that ever since he saw you, there was no need to look back at those shortcomings.

He was quieter than usually, eyes studying you without even realizing it, still you didn’t shrink under his view. You followed his sights, watching as his orbs moved from a part of your face to the next, taking you in like an art piece, memorizing every detail like his life depended on it.

And for a moment a wave of realization washed over you. The way you were in Steve’s arms, the way he was looking at you, the way you looked at him — friends didn’t do the things you both did, especially when your other friends were around.

Steve was just your friend when he gave you a long-sleeve to borrow, drove down to your art gallery, talked you through your worst moments, offered you a bed to sleep in, slept with you in said bed.

But maybe you and Steve were never destined for the whole friendship thing. You both had crossed so many lines unforgiven, and there was no way either of you could deny the truth by saying goodbye.

You had to step into it and let go.

You swallowed, arms tightening around his neck while your chest rose with a deep puff. Only then did he snap out of the haze, blinking slowly until he shook his head and snapped his eyes to yours silently apologizing to which you brushed off with a half-hearted smile.

“You know, some beauty marks have meaning.” You revealed, hushed tone just loud enough for him to catch against the breeze.

His breath hitched, tips of his fingers caressing your spine, tracing it up and down absentmindley like second nature.“Y-yeah?”

You nodded, eyes meeting him, almost pleading for him to let you. “Can I tell you about them?”

“Please do.”

His grip on you was tight enough to allow you to let go, letting your arms float freely in the water, before thumbing the marks on his skin delicately.

“You’ve got a bunch of tiny ones by your eyes,” You whispered, carefully swiping over them with your thumbs, “these ones mean that you’re hard working, which you are.” You said obviously.

He’d be willing to work harder to make whatever this was permanent. To wake up from the dark night he’d been sleeping through since he could remember. He’d do it all, if it meant getting to wake up to you, everyday… to wake up and be yours, it was that simple.

Your thumb moved down to the double freckles on his cheek, murmuring, “Sensitive.”

“Like a cry baby?” He questioned, still full of jokes despite the inner monologue that was eating his entire being up.

You breathed through your laugh, holding his face still as you clarified. “Like someone in touch with their emotions.”

Steve never had the best upbringing, you knew that, and while your understanding of the whole picture was very little, you knew that he didn’t let that define him. He didn’t treat his past as an excuse to be horrible to other people, in fact it made him better. Softer in his approach to situations that he did his best to guide instead of control.

Honesty was the freckle on his chin. Steve never tried to prove himself to be a good person, worthy of something greater than the things he was given, even when he was. He had trusted the wrong people in the past, did and said things he was never proud of, but he didn’t ever pretend like those moments didn’t happen.

His reputation, the one that should've scared you away and prevented you from getting to know the real him, was in your eyes, the most delicate thing about him. He didn’t try to put up a perfect facade for you, but he did prove that he threw out all the bad, every cloak that hid his true colors and daggers that fought every truth — he threw them out, not to become someone new, but to finally be him.

How you wished you could’ve been brave enough to say it all because you wanted him to so desperately know.

And how Steve wished he could dive into your mind and swim through your thoughts as you stared at him with complete tenderness. Something he didn’t think he could ever get used to because what about him could possibly make you go slack-jawed? He didn’t know what you saw him, but quite frankly he’d listen if you’d tell him. He’d listen to anything you had to say.

“Any other ones?” His grips moved down to your waist squeezing gently and seeking the connection in the midst of your silence.

You hummed, giving him a soft smile before he reciprocated it, visibly enchanted by your ability to get lost in him the way he got lost in you.

“You’ve got a special one right here,” You let your fingers brush over his cupid's bow, caressing the spot back and forth.

His eyebrows jutted up curiously, breath fanning over your thumb as he spoke. “Special, huh? You’ve gotta tell me now, sweetheart.”

He pulled you in just a little closer, your chest bumping into his and your foreheads just inches apart, and like that, you were a little more brave with nothing left to be scared of. Your hands cradled his face, forcing him to keep his eyes on yours with every word that left your mouth because you wanted him to understand, to see himself the way you saw him.

“Empathy. The world lacks it, but somehow you’re full of it.” Your words flowed with conviction as does the admiration that sparkled in your eyes.

“H-how?” His voice broke, as if he could barely believe that he had an ounce of it within him.

You rolled your shoulders back, determined to get him to see it in himself. “Well for starters, you’re a great listener. Always listening to me ramble about dumb stuff and—”

“Nothing you say is dumb.” Steve said sincerely, fingers caressing your back warmly against the coolness of the water.

“See, you’re also good at reassuring me.” You grinned, teasing him because he proved himself wrong.

He rolled his eyes comically as you went on. “And you always try your best to understand me, even when I’m a mess and nothing makes sense. You try and you put yourself in my shoes to try to understand.”

“I always want to understand you.” He murmured, eyes staring into yours with fondness that was difficult to not shy away from, but you forced yourself to bear it.

“I know, and that’s why you’re such a good person, Steve.” You smiled, rubbing your thumbs along his cheekbones following his structure.

Steve Harrington was quite possibly the best person you’d ever get the honor of knowing the way that you did. You truly wanted to share him with the world, to give everyone a look at the finest person who was everything and more jumbled up into one being, but at the same time you wanted to be selfish, to keep him to yourself because no one deserved him, sometimes you felt like you didn’t either.

You just got lucky.

“I hate not knowing what you’re feeling.” He admitted, swallowing thickly, remembering all those times he had to poke and prod in order to get down to the root of your sadness.

You nodded understandingly, hating how closed off you were in the past. “Sometimes I’m too scared to say it outloud.”

You wanted to be more like Steve, not wanting to be defined by the things that you hate, the things that you were afraid of, or the things that haunted you in the middle of the night. You wanted to throw out your sword and live in peace just being defined for what you loved… the people you loved.

“Why?”

Your eyes met his curious ones with reluctance, nerves kicking into gear more than ever because you knew what saying the truth meant.

“B-because, I don’t want to mess things up.” You said, nervously massaging the back of his neck with gentle touches hoping he couldn’t feel them shake.

All this time you thought it was black and white. Too scared to let the past go because of the years you had put into them, and too scared to move forward because you didn’t want a repeat. The extremes that held you back, believing that failing once meant failing forever — all of that meant nothing anymore.

All you could see in your mind was you and Steve intertwined, all of the bad that you had thought up was put behind you and you never wanted to look away from him.

“You couldn’t mess anything up, not between us.” He said firmly, one hand loosening from your body to grab at your elbow, bringing it back to his cheek where he wanted you to feel him.

All this time he thought it was burning red. Chaos and dramatics without ever solving anything. The highest of highs and lowest of lows, a dangerous path that never led him anywhere except heartache and pain. The treacherous journey that was always destined for failure — he didn’t feel that anymore.

All he could see in his head was him sneaking back and forth from your town with you in his bed, and nothing would ever be the same.

“Are you sure?” Yours eyes locked, his washing away any lingering feelings of doubt with a simple nod.

You saw the thick swallow and bop of his throat while his hands traveled to your jaw, holding you there. “I’m positive because I’ve been feeling too.”

And like that you both were wide awake.

“S-say it please,” Steve pleaded running his thumbs over the bottom of your lip wanted to feel it so he knew it was real.

“I-I could show you instead.” You murmured, taking his wrist in your hand, feeling the thumb of his pulse.

He nodded, resting his forehead against yours, feeling you breathe against him like a lifeline reaching out.

“Please.”

Finally you both were letting it go, stepping into it together because what you had was golden, like daylight.

💌 reblogs, tags, comments, + likes are greatly appreciated! leave a comment and let me know if want to be added to my taglist!! 💌

a/n: happy new year everyone!!! I’ve missed you all so much and I’m so sorry I’ve been gone for so long — I took a break from posting as avidly in order to prioritize letting myself rest up and enjoy my break. I hope you all enjoyed this chapter, and a big thank you to my love, Effie, for helping me proofread this and always giving me the best advice ever!!! I can’t wait for you all to read the next chapter!

taglist: @translatemunson @kennedy-brooke @manda-panda-monium @tvserie-s-world @givemeth @steveharringtonswife @astolenkiss @loving-and-dreaming @awkotaco24 @engenelxver @elfiaaaa @pbs-theundeadmaggot @johnricharddeacy @gaysludge @keerysfolklore @micheledawn1975 @ihatepeanutss @bakugouswh0r3

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