lareinaa007

[lareinaa007]

Nine Long Years - Part 8

Nikolai Lantsov x Rietveld!reader, Kaz Brekker x sister!Rietveld!reader (platonic)

Part 7 --- Masterlist

Synopsis: After watching your brothers die, you found yourself working on the Volkvolny. In the many years since then, you somehow became the queen of Ravka while your brother somehow survived firepox and life in the Barrel, rising through its ranks. In disguise during a diplomatic trip with your husband Nikolai, you meet Kaz Brekker for what you think is the first time, only to find out that he is your long-thought-dead little brother.

Author's Note: Hi Everyone!! So excited to share this part with you all!! It took forever to write this, but there are a couple of scenes that I had written way back when I first started this series knowing that this is where it would go, and those scenes are very dear to me. Hope you all enjoy! Can't believe we're almost at our ninth year...

Warnings: mentions of death, angst and fluff, mentions of sickness, injury, panic attacks, firepox. If I'm missing something pls lmk

Word Count: 7,950

SEVENTH AND EIGHTH YEARS

Everything happened so quickly.

You barely had a week with Nikolai in the Spinning Wheel when the Darkling attacked again. You'd been making up for lost time, working together to end the war in the daytime and holding him tight and whispering soft things to each other at night. It was enough for you to be back on the same page as Nikolai. But the chapter was short. 

The ambush took him from you, transforming him into a creature akin to a volcra. There was a horrible terror in your veins as you watched him reform in front of you, but worse than that was the pit in your stomach at the confused and pained expression he held on his fanged face even as he changed. Seeing him claw at himself in shame as he tried to use his leathery wings to fly away broke your heart.

A few weeks had passed since then. You had followed Alina where she led, working for her cause and pushing to free Ravka. You got back into the habit of praying you acquired underground, asking the saints and Ghezen and any other being who may listen to keep your love safe. 

By the time you were fighting in the fold, surrounded by darkness, the Darkling's army, volcra, and every other enemy imaginable, you were harrowed and angry. Grisha keftas are made to be bulletproof, but you weren't stupid enough to aim at the Darkling's soldiers' keftas. Your bullets pierced through the exposed skin of their necks and heads each time you fired. 

Your accuracy drew attention, though, and a heartrender turned his eyes on you. You felt your chest tighten, your gun dropping out of your slack wrist as he slowly killed you. And just as you fell to your knees in the sand of the fold, your body loosened. You glanced up to see a volcra had carried this corporalki up into the sky, tearing one of his arms off. Blood splattered on you as he was torn, and you ducked behind a wrecked skiff to take cover from the volcra. 

You held your gun firm as you peered over the skiff at the volcra above. It was circling you, like it was waiting to pluck you up into the sky too. You raised your gun, ready to fire at it, when you saw it swooping towards you. You ducked again and fired, blindly hoping that you had stopped it. 

You heard a scream behind you and whipped your head around to see a Darkling Tidemaker behind you being forced down so harshly into the sand by the volcra that her head was now submerged. This creature's wings flapped as it turned slightly, peering at you with familiar eyes. It gave a meek screech, sounding nearer to a squawk than the high-pitched roars of other volcra you had encountered. It ducked its head slightly, and you saw little scratches on its face, as if from its own talons.

You pictured the attack on the spinning wheel, the last images of Nikolai before he was transformed into a self-loathing creature.

"Nikolai?" You breathed.

The creature finished burying the tidemaker and flapped its wings, flying away across the dark fold. You blinked and leaned against the wrecked skiff for a moment.

Then you ran, trying to go after Nikolai. You wanted to scream for him, to try to gain his attention and draw him back, but you couldn't bring that sort of attention to yourself, not when there were real, dangerous volcra as well as the Darkling's Grisha and nichevo’ya all around.

Seconds morphed into minutes, minutes into hours. As far as you could tell, you were running and fighting for forever. Even the quick things seemed to slow down, the bullets and elements, the monsters and shadows; everything seemed small and slow as you moved through the fray, slashing or dodging every foe you faced.

You kept an eye on the sky, aching for your impossibly aggravating prince--the soon-to-be king whom you loved. As you spotted him again, tangled with a real volcra in the air, you held your breath and ducked behind the hull of a skiff-wreck. You raised your gun, trying to get a read on whether you could shoot without hurting Nikolai, but no sooner had you held your arm out were your eyes suddenly caught on a Soldat Sol across the sand as light burst from her body. Then another otkasot'ya sun soldier behind her lit up the same way. In a moment, fifty beams of light reached the top of the fold. The airborne volcra all began to screech, the nichevo'ya began to dissipate, and the fighting ceased as all Grisha--on both sides–cast their eyes to the sky to see sunlight poking out from up above.

You searched the air for Nikolai. Your mind started reeling for a second as you could not find him. Bile rose in your throat, and the doubting began. Would you find him a corpse? Would the Soldats’ sun beams turn him to ash?

But then you heard a scream, its timbre somewhere between an animal screech and a warm chesty reverberation you liked to rest your head on, and you turned around, seeing the creature's wings shrink away and a tattered king begin falling from the sky.

“Nik!” You shouted, running towards him.

When he was ten meters from the ground he stopped screaming. Something invisible had caught him, slowing his descent. Zoya stood away to the right, her arms raised.

His back landed on the ground and you kept running towards him. The sand was rugged under your knees as you landed beside him, bracing your arms around him. It didn't matter that his back was still against the ground, or that he let out a soft groan, he wrapped himself around you too.

You raised your head, looking down at him and inspecting his features. They looked human, but more than that, they looked like your Nikolai. His blond hair and hazel eyes that looked at you like you were the center of the universe, both so familiar that you felt your chest expand with a relief you hadn't known since last you held him like this. There was soot and grime on his face and a small cut on his cheek, but you could deal with that later. You sighed and hugged him again, practically lying on top of him as the Darkling's forces surrendered to the Second Army. Nikolai groaned softly, taking in a shaky gasp from the force of your hug. You eased back a bit, but your arms were still holding firmly to him.

"You're an expert now," he breathed into your hair.

"What?" You panted, leaning back slightly to look at his dirty face. 

"At saving me."

He flashed a smile, informing you that he thought his joke was funny as can be. That reason alone, that he hadn't lost his sense of humour, brought you to tears. He really was your Nikolai, no matter what challenges you faced, or monsters you fought.

Seeing you cry, he sat up, wiping at your cheeks. He held your nape and gently knocked his forehead against yours. "It's alright, my dear. I'm alright now."

"I know, I just…" You sniffled.

"You just what, love?"

"I was just so afraid I would lose you."

"My darling, you'll never lose me. I promise."

"I felt so helpless and scared. I can't lose you like I lost–" your words ran short of saying your brothers’ names, but Nikolai understood regardless. He held you tighter.

"I know," he said as he pressed his lips to your forehead. "I know."

You sighed, putting your face in his collar. "You're the one that just fell out of the sky after being a sadistic man's shadow monster and yet you're comforting me."

"It's my job, you realize; just part of what a good fiance does."

In all the chaos and fuss, you nearly forgot the chain around your neck. You pulled it out from under your clothes and admired the two rings as they dangled. They couldn't be more different. One was a standard circle of gold, simple as could be, the other carried a sapphire worth more than anything you'd ever owned let alone worn as a constant on your body. Nikolai unclasped the chain and let the rings drop into his palm.

"I would get on my knees again, but I think I need a minute before I can get up. A lot of me is a little sore." He touched your cheek, brushing his thumb along the apex. "My love, will you make me the happiest man alive by marrying me?"

You chuckled softly. "I've already said yes, Nikolai."

"I know. But I want to hear it again. Picturing you in a white gown and veil was the only thing getting me through while I was a shadow monster."

You smoothed his ruffled hair back, kissing him briefly but sweetly. "Yes. I will marry you, Nikolai Lantsov."

"Thank the saints for you," he murmured before drawing you into a long, tender kiss. His forehead connected with yours once you finally broke apart again. "You'll be a wonderful queen."

"Nikolai…" You started, your eyes darting away as you felt your cheeks warm.

He cupped your face in his hands. "You will."

"You have too much confidence in me."

"I beg to differ."

You looked in his hazel eyes for a moment. "Are you good enough to stand?"

"Only with the assistance of my beautiful fiancé."

"Very well," you smiled at him.

You helped Nikolai to his feet, letting him lean some of his weight on you. The sand was uneven beneath your boots as you walked with him against your side. First and Second Army soldiers alike rejoiced as they looked at the clear sky, the division between East and West Ravka finally broken. 

"It's a brand new world," you remarked.

"A world where the sea isn't on the other side of a monster-filled death trap," Nikolai grinned.

"True enough," you grinned back. "Though I think royal duties will keep us in Ravka."

"You'd be surprised just how often a royal gets to travel, moya tsaritsa."

You noticed how he squeezed closer to your side, and you smiled even brighter.

"I love you dearly, do you know that?" Nikolai asked, his eyes playful yet true.

"I think you've mentioned it once or twice."

"Then I shall mention it again; I love you dearly, my darling."

……….

A couple of days after the Fold was torn and the Darkling burned, you were still in the camp on the outskirts of the sand waste. You walked through the camp, offering assistance or whatever kindness you had to those who remained. You stopped at the stables, catching a familiar face. Mal was hitching horses to the closed carriage Nikolai procured for him and Alina to take away for their new life free of sainthood and sun summoning.

"Leaving so soon?" You asked loudly and suddenly, startling Mal.

He threw you a look that softened into a light chuckle. "I'm thieving away, just like you."

You made an exaggerated gasp. "Is that any way to speak to your future queen?"

"No," he smiled, "but it's a way to speak to an annoying friend."

You tsked and playfully smacked his arm.

"I'll miss you, Rietveld."

"I'll miss you too, Oretsev. Take care of Alina, but also take care of yourself, Mal," You said softly. "That's an order from your queen."

"You're not queen yet."

"Even so… I hope the countryside will treat you well. Nikolai and I will visit once you're all settled, I promise."

"I'll hold you to that."

You hugged him, patting him on the back. There was something brotherly about Mal, something that always just made you want the best for him. Maybe it was the tinge of Jordie in his persistent optimism. Or maybe you loved him for the way that he had inadvertently ensured you obtained all you wanted.

"And…" You rubbed the back of your neck as you stepped back from him again. There were the beginnings of tears in your eyes. "...Thank you for convincing me to stay. I can't begin to tell you how much I owe you."

"You can thank me by naming your firstborn after me," Mal joked, despite the way his eyes glazed over as well.

You smacked his arm again and then wiped at your eyes and nose. "Oh, shut up. I take back everything sentimental I ever said to you."

"No, you don't," he laughed.

"No, I don't."

……….

Weeks passed by in a blur. Alina and Mal were officially gone. You were back in Os Alta with Nikolai, but this time staying at the Grand Palace. There was quite a bit of damage done to both palaces, much to rebuild and repair, but you were glad for the work. You helped Nikolai with all of the repair plans, wanting to make the palace feel less stark and impersonal, and instead make it feel inviting and warm. If this was to be your home now, you wanted it to be homey.

There was also much to do in the way of learning how a palace like this was managed. You spent lots of time studying histories and politics to prepare for life as a queen, yes, but you also met with the head housekeeper, Ms Garevsky, for an hour each evening. She taught you what happens in each room of the palace, how the staff operate, the passageways of the palace, and anything else you'd need to know to be successful in matters of house and home.

Nikolai had his coronation last week. It was a large affair, apparently not as large as the coronation of the past few kings, but still rather large. There were parades in the streets and parties with diplomats and the like. Throughout it all, Nikolai balanced diplomacy, discussed his plans as king, and gushed about his engagement with you. He championed you to everyone who would listen, behaving every bit the doting fiancé he was.

The maids had gotten used to seeing Nikolai slip into your room at night or vice versa. Your rooms were a whole wing apart, yet you never slept alone. After all you'd been through, there was no reason to sleep alone ever again.

If he came into your room and saw you studying royal histories or reading construction reports, he would wrap his arms around you and ask you to read to him. It reminded you of how you two fell in love, and certainly you felt yourself falling in love again and again each day with him.

Tonight you had slipped into his room. A short scan of the space informed you he was tucked away in the bathroom. His head was tilted back against the porcelain of the bathtub, his arms resting on the sides. But when he opened his eyes and saw you in the doorway his hands dipped under the water, cutting off the black scars the Darkling left on him.

"Hey, you," he smiled. His voice was tired.

"Hey, you," you said, stepping into his bathroom.

"You're early tonight," he remarked. "I usually can't expect you until it's only stars and moon in the sky."

"Well, Ms Garevsky didn't need me for long this evening, she just wanted my thoughts on a few things for the upcoming state dinner, and I finished my readings and letters this afternoon, so here I am."

You knelt beside the tub, face to face with Nikolai. His face was warm as you put a palm to his rosy cheek.

"What's on your mind, my love?" You asked.

"That I am the most fortunate man to live because of you."

"Nikolai," you said with a soft sigh as your thumb traced his cheek. "You look tired. What is it?"

He shook his head, offering a soft smile that you could see right through. "Darling, there's nothing."

"Please, Nik… just tell me."

His eyes dropped from yours, fixating instead on a drop of water on the edge of the tub. 

"I figured we were done with any secrets," you murmured. His eyes snapped back up to yours.

"It's not a–" he cut off what sounded like it would be a paltry defense. "You're right. I haven't been entirely honest." He shifted in the tub, making the water slosh slightly. "My darling… I promise I am fine, but I confess that I've been having some pain lately."

Your eyes widened slightly and you brushed back his hair. "Pain? What sort of pain?"

"My scars," he said quietly. The shame in his eyes was evident.

You didn't have to ask him to know he meant the scars on his hands. The remnants of his time as a shadow monster.

"How do they hurt?" You asked softly.

"Sometimes they get so itchy that they're practically burning. Other times, they make it so my hands feel stiff; I'll be writing a letter when my fingers suddenly seize up and I have to stretch them out before I can pick up my pen again."

"Have you spoken to anyone about it?" You asked softly.

He shook his head.

"We can tell Genya tomorrow. Surely she and David can create something to soothe your aches."

"She already tailored them as much as she could. But it's merzost. It won't go away."

"Maybe not, but they can still help you in some way, I bet." You brushed his hair back. "Give me your hands?"

Nikolai sighed and lifted his hands out of the water. You took them in yours, your fingers gently entwining with his, and you brought them up to your lips. You kissed every dark scar, treating them gently and carefully. Your thumbs smoothed over the backs of his hands, and you felt water dripping down into your sleeves.

The wet sleeves irritated you, and you opted to unbutton your shirt. You slipped it off, and the thin straps of your shift exposed the scar on your shoulder. It was veiny and pitch black, just as Nikolai's hands were. You felt his eyes on your skin, and you lightly hummed.

"At least we match," you murmured, brushing his hair back again.

He let out a soft huff of amusement and lifted his hand from the edge of the bath. He gently clasped your wrist, bringing your hand to his mouth and kissing the inside of your wrist.

"That we do."

……….

The wedding preparations were taking months. 

Nikolai was frustrated enough by it that he had on more than one occasion huffed into your collar, “We could always elope but still have the big wedding later.”

Each time you had consoled him with a kiss and some whispered reassurances. You reminded him nothing would change once you were married, and he reminded you that you would be queen once you wed, something he was eager for. You'd then chuckle and amend yourself.

“Nothing will change between us once we are married,” you'd say.

“Wrong. You'll be my wife. I'll be your husband.”

“And will you treat me any differently?”

He would then pout. “No…”

The preparations were endless, the lists of things to do totalling to a dizzying amount. Just when you felt you were making headway with the plans, some unexpected emergency would pop up. Something concerning the affairs of the nation would pull your attention away, or construction of the palace would hit a bump, or Nikolai would be called away to Kerch on a secret diplomatic mission.

You sat calmly as you listened to a set of Nikolai's counselors. With your fiancé and two-thirds of the triumvirate gone, it was just you and David left to attend to the Ravkan court. After hours in that room, you and David sought refuge in the Little Palace. He shared some of his new designs for various devices over a refreshing lunch, and the two of you discussed at length the remaining renovations left at the Grand Palace.

Once lunch finished, you went through the passage to the royal gardens, heading for your daily lesson with Ms Garevsky, the head housekeeper. Today she continued her coverage of the proper ways to host guests. She had a habit of talking too quickly and making you ask for her to repeat herself a dozen times over, so by the middle of the lessons you were usually exhausted by it to the point where you let her speak and had to hastily scrawl in your notebook to keep up. You were lucky she ended the lesson where she did, as your hand was beginning to cramp with your note-taking. 

Then it was dinner time, and you were tempted to return to the Little Palace and dine with friendly faces, but you chose instead to take a tray in your rooms. As you finished eating, a maid arrived, handing you a letter. There was a gold eagle seal, and your heart clenched, knowing instantly who'd written you.  You thanked the maid with a smile, and watched as she left, your fingers itching to rip the letter open. The envelope was abandoned as soon as you were alone again. You felt the pages in your hands, eyes scouring over Nikolai's perfect handwriting. You held a hand to your mouth as you read.

My dearest love,

I am seldom one for dramatics, as you well know, but I can assuredly say I miss you so dearly I feel every day without you may draw me to madness. 

It is with a heavy heart then, that I must tell you I will be returning later than I expected. Things are more complicated here than we foresaw, and we need a bit more time to fix the creases in this particular fold. 

You'll never believe the types of people I'm working with here: criminals of every kind, I tell you. Some are rather charming, others less so. These people remind me of times that feel so long ago they're almost a dream, times where we sailed under a maroon mast, where you saved me more times than I could count.

As I write this, I am transported back to our extended trip in West Ravka, that time Druskelle split us from Tolya and Tamar. Did I ever tell you that’s when I knew I wanted to spend the rest of my life with you? It was one of the mornings, the ones where I woke up with you in my arms, only on that morning you were missing from them. I'd almost panicked, but then I heard this soft humming from the bathroom, and the gentle splash of water. You came out of the bathroom, fresh-faced and dressed, and I pretended I was still asleep as I heard you approach the bed. You’d tsked and muttered to yourself, begrudging how I slept so well, before I felt you gently push a strand of hair off my forehead. It took everything in me not to smile or open my eyes to your beautiful face.

Something in the simplicity of that morning, in your humming and your gentle touch, had me in raptures. I've never stopped feeling that way around you since. 

There is an ache in me when I am away from you, an ache that I seek to banish once we are married, as it is simply torturous being apart. My need for you is insurmountable, and I warn you now that once I return you may find yourself my hostage for the week--royal duties be damned.

I could carry on in salacious detail, but I'm ever aware of how the maids like to snoop, and I fear how Ms Garevsky would scold me should the maids find me writing something indecent. Instead, I'll end this letter and part with the knowledge that I will see you again, if not as soon as I wish. I love you, my darling.

The man lucky enough to call himself your fiancé,

Nikolai

You set down the papers with a soft groan. It was difficult to place the feeling in your chest. There was the missing him, the dull ache of being apart. But then there was the comfortable wash that his words put over you, the bloom of warmth beneath your skin when he mentioned he was thinking of you.

You felt a slight guilt when he recalled one of the mornings in your early days. You couldn't remember that instance, despite it meaning so much to him. Then again, much had happened on that trip, and much had happened since; it felt like another life, growing from captain and second into the loves of each other's lives. And soon, you were going to be married–the king and queen of Ravka. 

If you had told your younger self–the girl who could only dream of a life outside of the farm when she heard the stories from her Ravkan neighbour–that you would not only have made Ravka your home but also soon be the queen of it, you would've scoffed. That life was so distant now. The farm was another world entirely. Even Ketterdam, regardless of how formative an experience, seemed sometimes like it existed in someone else's past. There were still the nightmares, the bodies in the harbour that whispered to you, the illness in your throat that appeared when you heard metal against stone like those hooks against the cobbles. But despite it, you were a different person now. 

There was a veil between you and your past self. Its opacity varied day to day, but of late it had grown thicker. But perhaps it wasn’t a bad thing, and if it was, you didn’t know.

……….

The shine on your head was substantial, glittering in every direction you moved as you stood in a fitting for your wedding gown. The jewelers had insisted you practice wearing your crown ahead of the wedding. You mostly practiced wearing it when you were alone in your room, not wanting the embarrassment of wearing a formal crown in the halls of the palace when you were not queen yet nor did the occasion call for such a piece. But you thought it might be nice to see the look you'd be married in, so you asked them to bring it out during this fitting. You were trying not to grin too wide as you stood in Queen Mila's crown and your wedding dress, staring at your reflection.

The dressmaker, Daya, was busy around you, making her adjustments after creating the wedding dress the last couple of months. You smiled at her as she worked, putting temporary pins in the back of the garment.

“How long have you been making dresses, Daya?” You inquired.

Her eyes flitted to yours in the mirror, wide and unexpecting. “Almost twenty years, my lady.”

“It shows; your craft is impeccable,” you smiled. “What brought you to this profession?”

She still seemed surprised by your questions as she shifted behind you.

“Are you alright, Daya?” You asked lightly, wanting to clasp your hands together in front of you but being careful not to move unless she told you to.

“Perfectly well, my lady. Only… I am not used to such conversation during a fitting.”

“Oh, I'm sorry,” you said softly, frowning a bit. “I'll stay quiet then.”

“No, my lady. You mistake me,” she replied, her body popping out on the other side of you in the mirror as she finished with her pins at your back. “I should rather have said that I welcome the change and the conversation. Seven years I've been the royal dressmaker, and the queen mother did not wish to ask such questions even once. She barely wished for me to speak at all.”

Your lips pursed in disappointment. You met her eyes in the mirror and she ducked her head again.

“Very sorry, my lady. I should not speak in such a manner about your fiancé's mother.”

“No, no, I'm not upset with you, Daya. I'm upset with my forebearer. I'm sorry for her behaviour. You're lovely to speak with.”

She looked as though she didn't know how to accept your compliment or apology beyond giving a soft nod, so you changed the subject.

“Are you familiar with Kerch fashions, Daya?”

She nodded.

“I was hoping to have a couple of dresses made for future palace events, but every Ravkan design I wear or see on courtly ladies feels so impractical. I find the hems are too long, they drag too much, and it drives me up a wall when I wear them. Kerch dresses more often than not have a higher hem, dropping just at the ankle, so there's no dragging.”

“You wish for shorter dresses?”

“Just enough so I'm not tripping over myself, please,” you chuckled quietly. “And a less dramatic bustle would be nice too.”

“I can draw some designs for you, my lady.”

“That would be excellent, Daya. Thank you.”

You heard a slight commotion in the hallways. For a second you felt concern, but then you heard voices and your heart rate picked up, excitement coursing through you.

“Your highness, you're tracking mud through the halls,” you heard Ms Garevsky's voice, admonishing her king. She was the only person in the palace with enough rank in household and age who could speak to him that way.

“I will personally apologize to each of the maids later. For now, I have to see my love, Ms Garevsky. I've been positively downtrodden without her.”

You looked at Daya, stepping off the pedestal and hurrying behind the changing screen as you heard the footsteps come closer down the hallway. The door cracked open, and you caught a glimpse of Nikolai through the small holes in the screen. He was in travel clothing, his jacket dusty and boots caked in dried mud from riding.

“My love?” He called out, somehow not clued in to the fact that you were behind the screen.

“I'm changing out of my dress,” you replied, your back to Daya as she untied your bodice.

“It's bad luck to interrupt her in this moment, your highness,” Garevsky scolded. 

“It's far worse luck that I haven't seen her in more than a month,” Nikolai breathed, hands on his hips as he waited not so patiently for you to be done. 

Daya slowly slipped the dress down your body, careful of the pins in it. You stepped out of it, and grabbed your dressing robe to tie over your slip. Daya pointed to the box on the table across the room.

“I'll need to get the dress safely in the box, my lady,” Daya whispered to you.

“Nikolai,” you called to him, “I need you to close your eyes and face the east wall of the room.”

“Why?”

“Because I've asked?”

“Very well.”

Daya quickly stepped out of the screen and packed the gown in the large rectangular box she brought it into the palace in. You stepped out too, walking slowly towards your broad-shouldered fiancé.

"I'll take this for the final alterations, my lady," Daya said with a slight smirk as she glanced at Nikolai where he faced away. "I'll get out of your hair."

"Thank you again, Daya," you expressed.

"The pleasure is all mine," she replied as she slipped out of the room with the dress. Ms Garevsky looked between you and Nikolai with a slight cynicism, then retreated as well. You waited until the door was shut to stand in front of him and brush your hand along Nikolai's upper arm.

"You can open your eyes now," you said softly.

He did, instantly grinning at you. “You look gorgeous, my love."

"Oh, hush. I'm not even in the gown."

"No, you're wearing something better."

You furrowed your brows. "And what's that? My sunny disposition?"

His eyes flitted slightly above your head. "No, it's something blue."

The sapphire crown. In your rush to take off the wedding dress, you'd forgotten about the crown on your head. You reached to take it off but Nikolai stopped you.

"Hang on a moment, my love." He held your hands and kissed your forehead. "It looks just as perfect on you as I remember. And you're growing used to it, I see. It's the mark of true royalty when you don't even feel the weight of your crown anymore."

You let out a soft tsk, as though unimpressed with his flirtations. He grinned.

"There's something about you in that crown that just makes me…"

“Pull yourself together, Nik,” you chuckled, wrapping your arms around him again. You sighed into his chest. “I missed you.”

“I missed you too. Next time I'm away for more than two days, you're coming with me. That was much too long.”

“Agreed.”

“I wish to be married to you,” he murmured into your head.

“Soon,” you breathed.

“I’d protest for an elopement again if it weren't for the fact that now I greatly want to see you in your wedding dress and crown in front of everyone we know.”

“It is less than three weeks away,” you reminded him.

He made a soft hum, wrapping his arms around your upper body.

……….

Anxious didn't begin to describe how you felt. 

It must have been hours you lay there awake, though you had no way of knowing just how long exactly. The clock that usually resided on your bedside sat in the sitting room off of your bedroom, put there at the one o'clock mark because of its incessant ticking. It was a foolish notion, that the clock was responsible for your restlessness, but it had been exiled nonetheless.

You had no chance of sleeping. A weight on your chest kept you awake, the heaviness of the impending day pestering you to no end. Tomorrow you would be married, which brought no end of joy to you; you couldn't have found anyone more perfect for you than Nikolai. But tomorrow you would also become queen of Ravka. No preparations in the Grand Palace, experiences during the war, or time on the Volkvolny made you ready for such a title. Inside, you still embodied that farmer's daughter who trekked up and down the hill, milked the cows, and stitched the holes in her brothers’ socks. 

Here you were, a poor orphan girl, about to be royalty. And yet you could not overcome this dread. It tasted similar to the smoke and sickness of Ketterdam, like a living rot that greeted you as an old friend whenever you were finally feeling better. Nikolai and his warm embraces and pine-scented linens always staunched the dread, but the maids had gleefully warned you of Ravkan customs of not seeing one another the day before your wedding, and you had foolishly listened. It wasn't since early yesterday morning while sneaking out of his bed that you saw him. Sleeping peacefully, an arm protective but loose around you, his head tilted towards you.  

“It's a stupid wives’ tale, my love,” Nikolai complained when you first told him you wanted to respect this custom. “It'll be worse luck not to be together the day before we marry. You might fall out of love without me there to pester you.”

You gave him a soft huff then, and he cracked a smile. 

“Fine. I won't seek you out the day before the wedding. But just know I won't be able to keep my eyes or hands off of you on our wedding day.”

“As if you would restrain yourself regardless,” you replied with a roll of your eyes that had him chuckling and pulling you into his chest.

An ache in you begged you to go to Nikolai's room right now, Ravkan tradition be damned. But the maids’ giggling voices gnawed at you, keeping you put. Letting out a long breath, you turned onto your back again. You stared at the floral print of the canopy above you. You had attempted counting all of the flowers before, and not even that put you to sleep. All it did was teach you that there were seventy-four flowers stitched into the fabric.

You shuffled onto your side for the umpteenth time, the bed feeling cold despite all your moving and huffing and puffing. Unable to take it anymore, you threw off your covers and stomped out of bed. You pulled on your robe and slippers, and marched towards the exit, having to go through to the sitting room first. As you pushed open the door you heard a muttered “ouch!” 

You softly frowned at your fiancé, who lay in a heap of blankets outside your door. He rubbed the back of his head, undoubtedly where the door had whacked him.

“Sorry,” you murmured, kneeling beside his scrunched-up frame. 

“What’s the hurry for?” He softly grumbled.

“I was coming to see you. Why are you here? Have you been sleeping at my door?”

He pursed his lips, glancing around your sitting room. “I couldn’t sleep without you. This room smells like you though, so I thought I wouldn’t be disturbing you if I rested here for the night.”

You raised a brow at him. “On the floor outside of my door? Have you forgotten that there’s not one, or even two, but three sofas in this room?”

“You bring up a great point,” he sighed. He gave you a sheepish look, rubbing at the back of his head again. “But the sofas are all loveseats. My feet dangle uncomfortably.” 

“Come to bed then,” you said, softly tugging at his arm. “You fit there.”

“You want to break that little Ravkan custom then?” He smiled teasingly at you.

“I want you to have a restful night’s sleep, one that won’t be found on the floor.”

You stood, extending your hands to him. He took your assistance, lumbering into your bedroom with you. When he collapsed into your bed, he let out a positively euphoric sigh. 

“I love your bed.”

“Don’t get too used to it,” you smiled softly, lying down on your side and pulling the layers of blankets up. “After tomorrow I’m unlikely to ever sleep in the queen’s room again.”

“Quite right,” he smiled back.

He rolled closer, wrapping all of his limbs around you. You breathed him in, the scent of pine enough to make your mind quiet and eyes weary.

“Did you have to open your door so harshly?” He murmured into your forehead. “I feel a bump already forming on the back of my head.”

“Sorry,” you hummed, tilting your face up to kiss his chin and then cheek. “Can I get you anything?”

He softly shook his head. “Your company is more than enough to salve.”

At the sound of your amused huff, he squeezed you tighter.

“My wife.”

“Not yet.”

He gently smirked down at you. “It’s a matter of hours now, love.”

“Even still…”

He pressed his lips to your forehead and let them remain there, nuzzling your hairline. His chest rose and fell with the steadiest rhythm. For a long moment he was still, and you thought he might have fallen asleep. But when he shifted again, wrapping his arms lower around your waist and kissing your forehead again, you knew him to be awake. To be present with you.

The new reality was sinking deeper into your chest. The thoughts you figured would dissipate once in his arms were whispering to you again.

“Everything is going to change tomorrow,” you muttered into Nikolai’s collar.

He made a curious hum.

“It’ll all change.”

His hand pressed to your nape, smoothing down the back of your nightgown. “Nothing will change, as you keep reminding me. We'll love each other all the same.”

“Everything else will be different,” you quietly grumbled.

He leaned back and tilted your head towards him, his brow serious as he addressed your concerns. “What is troubling you, my love?”

You let out a huff, hiding your face in his collar again.

“No secrets,” he reminded you with a gentle squeeze.

“I’m finding the words,” you whispered into his skin.

Though patience was not his strong suit, Nikolai waited for you, his hand steadily stroking your back again. The motion of it brought your mind to a lull, and you had trouble piecing your concerns into something concise enough to share. It must have taken a few minutes before you spoke again, but Nikolai waited calmly the entire time.

“I’m afraid that I won’t be myself after tomorrow,” you finally whispered.

His hand stilled on your back. “What are you talking about?”

“I just… I feel like this’ll change me in a way I won’t know how to come back from. Like I’ll lose something about myself.”

When you finally glanced up at his face, he was frowning. “What do you think you’ll lose?”

“I don’t know. Myself. Who I am, who I was. I don’t know.” You put your face to his collar again. “I’m becoming a Lantsov.”

His hand flexed on your back. “Is that what this is about?”

You said nothing, and he pressed on in a gentle voice.

“Marrying me, taking my name, even becoming a queen,” he said, “none of it erases who you’ve been and who you are.”

“But it’s a step away from them,” you murmured.

He sighed, rubbing your back again. He didn’t have to ask who you were referring to. He had helped you carry their weight for many years now. He lived with their ghosts as you did.

“They’ll be with you in this chapter of life just as they have been for the rest, my love.”

“I’m losing my last tie to them, Nikolai,” you whispered.

“I know.” He held you closer, lips brushing the top of your head yet again. “I know names are important. I know it feels like you’re losing this tie. But think of it this way, my dear: our family, you, me, and the future children we grow and nurture, will all be tied because of the Lantsov name.”

You sniffled. “That’s true.”

“It is.”

You wiped at your face. No tears had fallen, but they had glazed over your eyes. You took a moment to let them dissipate.

“I love you,” you said.

“I love you too,” Nikolai soothed. “More than the world.”

“That is a hefty statement,” you sighed into his neck.

“It’s the truth.” He slipped into Kerch then, “My soul knows no richer than yours.”

You cracked a small smile against his skin. “Charmer.”

His chest shook with a soft chuckle. “I try my best.” 

Nikolai shifted slightly, moving onto his back and pulling you with him. You curled up against his side, putting your head to his chest. 

“I cannot wait to be your husband,” he yawned.

You caught the yawn, slowly exhaling it. “I am happy about marrying you, Nik. Truly. Even if I'm slightly nervous. I wouldn't want to be anywhere else.”

..........

EIGHTH YEAR - KAZ

The wind was still as Kaz stood at the harbour, his tie straight now, and his eyes on Inej as she hung off of her parents, hugging them with a reckless abandon that would have made him flinch if he were watching anyone else.

How long had her parents waited for her? How long had they held out hope that she would return to them? How long would it take for such hope to turn to grief?

For Kaz, his hope of finding his sister had turned to grief within his early years alone in the underbelly of the Barrel. Spending his nights fending off roaches and other crooks, Kaz slowly knew she was not returning for him. He would wonder what she was doing, where she had gone after Ketterdam. But he was not foolish enough to think she would pull him out of this place.

All his wondering, all his sleepless nights, he still sometimes wished she were coming back. But wishing was different from hoping; he often made that distinction in his head whenever the ache in his chest began to feel too real. It was a matter of odds; wishing implied a low-stakes bet, putting one chip in for a shot at the pot, but hoping conjured up the Crow Club gamblers who would put all of their chips forward. For those at the table who hoped, their dreams were always dashed when the dealer flipped their final card and they were left without a chip to cash in. 

Kaz could let himself wish his sister would return, but he would never let hope turn him into the penniless chump at the table.

The wondering made him imagine her at present, where she landed, and whether she had made a better life for herself. Maybe she worked in a rich family’s house in Fjerda. Maybe she was a Kerch translator for Ravkan merchants. Maybe she had met a Zemeni farmer and begun a family. Or maybe she was dead after all.

That was one of the thoughts that made his chest ache. And it was the only thought that could stir him to hope for a good life for her, or if not a good life, at least a safe and alive existence.

Kaz left the harbour, saying his goodbyes to Inej and her parents. He could tell that he would be alone again now. He would have Jesper and Wylan in the city with him, but there was only so much that their paths would cross now that the two of them had moved out of the Barrel. The loneliness ached like he was nine and had just been kicked out of every Stadwatch precinct after searching for his sister, his only remaining family. In the past eight and a half years, he had never felt more like the lost little boy who came out of that water than he did right now. 

Returning to the Crow Club, he put his coat away in his new office, taking a seat at his desk. There was paperwork to be signed, ledgers to check. But he could not narrow his mind on the stacks of paper yet, preoccupied with his damn wondering.

Did he even remember her face? Sometimes he forgot and had to piece her features together like a puzzle. Even then, he wasn't certain of the image of her in his mind; she just looked like unreliable fragments of the sister who read him stories and cuddled him close. 

Baby brother, she used to call him. There was a time he hated that name, but now? Now he'd burn all the riches in the world just to see her smile, call him baby brother, and pull him into her side. But, of course, he was grown now, and not the same boy he used to be. He didn't know if he could handle having his sister's arms around him, despite how he used to relish in them. He liked to think that if she somehow found him after all this time, he could handle the sisterly love she used to dole out to him, but he couldn't be certain that the waters wouldn’t begin to drown him, that he wouldn’t push her away. 

His only certainty was that she would never see her baby brother again, because even if--by some miracle--she found Kaz, she would not find the boy she knew. There was no Kaz Rietveld, a sweet child who picked flowers for her. There was only Kaz Brekker, the bastard of the Barrel.

She would detest him if she ever found him, the man who murdered her baby brother. 

..........

A/N: Thanks so much for reading! Feel free to like, reblog, and comment on this new part--I really appreciate the feedback! If you want to be tagged in this series or to be added to the Nikolai taglist please comment on this part or send me an ask. Otherwise, I hope you have a great day/night :)

Masterlist

Taglist: Tomorrow or later tonight I will reblog with the tags!

[lareinaa007]

i don’t think i’ll ever feel again what i felt when i read the ballad of never after

[lareinaa007]

Hello 👋, I hope you're doing well..

My name is Mahmoud, and I'm a 17-year-old from Gaza. The ongoing war has devastated my city, destroyed my school, and made daily life incredibly challenging.

Despite these hardships, I'm determined to continue my education and build a better future. I've been given a chance to study abroad, but I need help to cover the costs of leaving Gaza, as well as living expenses and other essentials abroad once the crossing opens.. 🙏

If you can, please consider donating or sharing, your kindness can truly make a difference, and thanks for your time. ❤🍉

https://gofund.me/bd3ccf0b 🔗

Idk how many people this will reach but can’t hurt to try!

[lareinaa007]

my favorite thing about six of crows is the villian power dynamics. wdym it's a pair of adult men with all the money and power and influence kerch could offer versus one seventeen year old kid with a scheming face, a bad haircut, and the power of friendship

[lareinaa007]

episode eight: papa

“We’re felons.” Your eyes are squeezed shut as you rub your stomach, nauseous. “I can’t believe we just stole that poor couple’s home.” “Think Spidey would understand?” Steve spares you a glance as he drives. “Don’t ever evoke his name while committing a felony.”

Summary: steve is on the brink of a constant nervous breakdown, eddie questions your taste in music, you and max go halfsies on your lives, angry hicks are scary, and the end of the world is near so of course now is the time for every emotional conversation ever. duh !

Rating: general, some swearing, violence

Warnings: fem!reader, use of y/n, cursing, weapons, talk of death, lowkey suicidal thoughts but barely ??

Words: 15.9k

Before you swing in: hey gang !!! this chapter is a goddamn monster. it took forever to write for a million reasons, but the payoff is worth it in my biased opinion. we get a LOT of conversations in this chapter, all that have been brewing for seasons !!!!! the narrative is narrativing !!! we only have one more chapter, so sit back, relax, n enjoy :)

–

When Steve was a little kid, he would have nightmares about losing his parents. 

They started when he was seven. In the first dream, his mother had been in the car. She was driving away from him, beckoning him to follow, but Steve’s scrawny legs couldn’t keep up; he hadn’t reached her in time. 

He remembers waking up screaming for her. The terror of abandonment was heavy within his chest. It stifled his breathing. He remembers thinking that he was going to die. 

May Harrington rushed into her son’s room upon hearing his screams. She clutched him to her chest, smoothed down his wild hair. Steve had been too upset to explain the dream to her, then. His body simply melted into her embrace, relieved that she had still been there with him. That she hadn’t really left him. 

The dreams continued after that night. 

One time he had dreamt that his father locked him in the closet and told him that no one would ever see him again. Another night, Steve dreamt that his mother no longer loved him. That his love for her hadn’t been enough to convince her to stay. 

The dreams came sporadically. Sometimes Steve would go weeks without one. Other times, he would have one every night for a month. 

His father detested the dreams. He loathed what they did to his son. Not because of the fear that plagued Steve’s now pale skin, but because of how weak they made him. Richard Harrington would grip Steve’s arm tightly and command him to stop crying. The grip would leave bruises alongside his tear stained face. 

When Steve was nine, now too old to be having such vivid nightmares, his mother rocked him back and forth in her arms after a particularly difficult nightmare. Steve’s hiccupping breath echoed his tightening grip on the woman. 

“Oh, my beautiful boy. You’ll never lose me.” May stroked his back, her soothing voice floated around Steve. 

Steve clutched his mother even tighter. “But what if I do?”

May coaxed his head from her neck. She looked at him with such tenderness, such love. Her fingers grazed Steve’s face gently as she tucked a loose strand of hair behind his ear. She hummed, her voice lovely as always. “I’ll tell you a secret.”

“What secret, momma?” 

Steve will never forget the way his mother smiled at him. “When you love someone, you can never really lose them.”

And the secret settled a deep ache of uncertainty within her son. He loved hard and fast from then on. If Steve loved everyone he ever met, then he couldn’t lose them.

But then Steve was seventeen and he lost Nancy Wheeler.

Now Steve is nineteen and he’s about to lose you. 

One minute Nancy had been climbing up the rope. Your arms brushed Steve’s and your warmth reassured him that everything was going to be okay. You’d made it out. You were going to escape from the Upside Down and hold one another as soon as this was all over.

Until Nancy’s grip on the rope loosened and she fell. Steve barely had time to catch her before her dead weight landed upon him. Managing to stand her up, Steve finally realized what was happening. Her skin was pale and her body stiff.

She had gone into a vision. 

That’s when Steve turned to you. 

His entire world collapsed after that. You were frozen as well, as stiff as Nancy. The veins in your neck were pulled taunt. Steve thinks he screamed. 

And now he’s alone. You and Nancy have been taken from him. He can’t break you from whatever spell Vecna has the two of you under. 

“Y/N!” 

Steve doesn’t recognize his own voice. He can’t feel his body. He can’t feel yours beneath his hands as he desperately shakes you. Everything is numb from the fear that paralyzes him. 

The whites of your eyes blind him. Steve doesn’t know when they rolled back. 

“Steve, what’s going on down there?” Dustin’s voice cuts through the ringing in his ears. Every nerve in your brother’s body is on edge. Something isn’t right. You’re too still. 

“He’s-he’s got them!” Steve can’t bring himself to let go of you. He just wants to see the color in your eyes again. He wants you to wake up and laugh at him and call him stupid names and remind him that he’s yours. 

Above Steve he can hear screaming. Everyone starts shouting at one another, running around in a panic. No one knows what to do.

“Stay with me, angel.” Steve cradles your head. “Please.”

He can’t lose you. Steve wouldn’t survive a world without you in it. All the warmth and love within the world would leave the second you took your last breath. 

A body lands beside yours, tearing you out of Steve’s grasp. Seeing red, he turns, fists clenched and ready to throw a punch, but he only finds Dustin. The kid’s eyes are shell shocked, a manic look in them as he shakes his sister. 

“Do you have her walkman?” 

Steve almost can’t hear him over the pounding of his heart. “W-what?”

“Y/N’s walkman!” Dustin exclaims, rifting through your pockets. His hands are shaking and he can’t form any other thought besides finding the goddamn walkman. He knows you have it. He made sure that you wouldn’t go anywhere without it. “Steve, where is it?”

“I-I don’t know!” He can’t breathe. He’s too paralyzed by the idea of losing you forever. Then he remembers Nancy and it’s all too much. He can’t lose her either. She’s a part of him in a way that Steve will never be able to explain. “What about Nancy? What the hell do we do?”

“We need to find the fucking walkman.” When Dustin’s fingers feel plastic in your pocket, hope jumps in his throat. Letting out a breath, he pulls it out and quickly gets to work on unwrapping all the plastic that encases it. Only the wrapping is too thick, Dustin wants to scream. “Help me get this shit off!”

Steve yanks the device out of the boy’s grasp and claws at the mess of plastic and knots. Dustin had made sure to secure it when he left you at Lover’s Lake. While it kept the walkman bone dry, you’re now paying the price. It’s almost impossible to tear off. 

“Fuck!” Steve tries to bite through it, but it’s no use. 

“Give me it.” Dustin snatches the walkman back, now holding your knives. He starts cutting through the plastic quickly, but he notices Nancy start to convulse next to you. Panicking, Dustin shouts at Steve, “Help her!”

“But what about Y/N–”

“Now isn’t the goddamn time to argue!” Dustin screeches. He’s almost finished cutting through all the plastic. “I have Y/N. Focus on Nancy!”

It’s what you would want. Steve and Dustin both know this. And as much as it physically pains Steve to let go of you, he knows that you’d never forgive him if he allowed Nancy to die. 

Stumbling over his feet, he grabs her shoulders. Her body is as cold as yours. Her own whites of her eyes taunt Steve. Shaking Nancy, he screams up to the others, “Whatever you guys are doing, hurry up!”

“I got it!” Dustin holds up the now freed walkman, cheering. He can save you. He will save you. All he has to do now is put the headphones over your ears and play the music you love and his sister will be okay.

But then your body starts to convulse. The sight is gruesome. Your fingers bend sideways, your neck snaps back, and your chest collapses into itself. Terrified, Dustin screams your name over and over again. 

Hearing the boy’s pained cries, Steve tears himself away from Nancy. When he sees your body shaking violently, bile and fury rise to his throat. “No.”

He’ll be damned if you die tonight. Steve grabs the walkman from Dustin and opens it. Inside, there’s only one tape. 

For bug.

“Henderson, look at me.” There’s a list of songs messily scrawled on it. Steve shoves the cassette in Dustin’s face, forcing him to read the tracks on it. “Which one is her favorite?” 

Dustin struggles to catch his breath. He forces his vision to sharpen, the words float around in his head. They’re all songs he doesn’t know. None of them would work, none of them except–

“The Beatles!” Dustin is already queuing the song, fingers shaking. They’re your favorite band. When you were younger, your father would softly play their songs on his guitar every Sunday morning. Dustin was never able to remember the lyrics, but you always did.

Steve shoves the headphones on you. Dustin presses play.

That’s when your body lifts. 

– 

Music. 

There is music. A familiar guitar progression. Someone used to strum their fingers to produce the same chords. Their rough timbre would accompany the strings and the sweet smell of pine and grass would lull you. 

There are places I remember all my life, though some have changed. 

Green. Over a hill there is a house. Floorboards creak beneath your feet and there is a yellow couch pressed against the window, overlooking the flowers in the garden. Somewhere there is laughter. You’re a little girl chasing your younger brother around the tree, giggling.

Some forever, not for better. Some have gone and remain.

A moving van. The boxes you spent hours packing are shoved into the vehicle roughly. A long drive. A small town, smaller than the one you ran away from. There is a new house with a yellow door to match the couch your mother got to keep. Across the street a boy with black hair is riding his bike. Your brother follows him. 

Night falls and you’re standing on someone’s porch. There’s a boy your age and his hair falls into his eyes. Words are exchanged. He tells you his name is Jonathan. Your hand touches his and suddenly the world doesn’t feel so lonely anymore. The front door opens. A girl tells you your brother is inside with hers. She’s shy, small and beautiful, but her eyes are cunning. 

All these places had their moments. With lovers and friends, I still can recall.

A smaller house owned by a woman who radiates warmth and love for you. Her sons and their adoration. Bug and bee and childhood nicknames. Sleepless nights filled with hushed laughter. Whispered I love you’s. The smell of fresh baked cookies and the sound of four boys who all view you as their sister. 

There’s a boy with pretty brown eyes and pink lips. Hands wrap around your waist as he saves you. Over and over again he saves you. He begs you for a nickname. His smile fills your lungs and you’re falling. Angel. He calls you angel. 

A girl with fiery red hair and a girl who prefers your touch over words. They giggle together. You dress them in your old clothes. Ice cream melts against your tongues and the summer heat kisses your cheeks. There’s another girl. She’s older. You're in a bathroom stall together and she laughs at all your jokes and calls you pretty girl.

Some are dead and some are living. In my life, I’ve loved them all.

An old man wearing a police hat. He reminds you of your father. Gruff and bitter but he lets you tease him. A cabin in the woods and the waffles he always made for you. A home he has made for you and his daughter. 

There are cold, blue eyes. The boy is your age but the anger within him resembles your father’s. He’s violent. Alone. He’s all alone. Blood drips from his body and you hear a girl scream his name. Billy. 

Your mother cradles your face as you cry. She tells you she’s sorry. Your brother tells you he misses who you used to be. The kindness that you burned to spite your father. 

Soft lips kiss your stained hands. The mouth whispers reassurances. He tells you he loves you. Late night drives. Kissing underneath the stars. Constants and honey and forgiveness. 

A charm bracelet. Building a fort in the rain. Biking to houses with a band of kids in tow. Singing songs in a field. Bickering and loyalty and friendship that leaves you in awe. 

Though I know I’ll never lose affection for people and things that went before.

Memories float through you, into you, around you. 

And you remember. 

I know I’ll often stop and think about them.

You remember everything. 

“Y/N!” 

Steve’s voice pulls you back to where you belong. He’s pleading. Dustin’s screams cut through the noise in your head. Everything is muffled. You can’t move. Why can’t you move? They’re screaming for you and you can’t get to them. 

In my life, I love you more.

But you love them. With everything within you, you love them. There is a blinding light of molten warmth of love in your rib cage. They put it there. It melts your bones. They need you. All this love within you is theirs, so why can’t you move?

“Y/N, angel, stay with me.”

You want it more than anything. You want to stay. You want to live. You can’t leave them behind. Any of them. Steve and Dustin and Jonathan and Robin and Nancy and Max and–

Pain erupts in your ankle as your body lands harshly on the ground. It shocks your system, causing your eyes to fly open. 

Steve is cradling you in his arms. He holds onto you desperately and he’s crying. Sharp inhales expand your lungs as sobs choke your breath. Your skin slides against Steve’s and he’s warm and rough and littered with scars and you aren’t sure if any of this is real.

But Steve is holding you. If this is some sick, twisted vision, then at least you’ll die in his arms. Your death will have been worth something if Steve’s face is the last thing you see. Yet when you look into his eyes, the fear and desperation within them is real. The tears are real. The agony and love is real. 

He’s real.

“Y/N! Angel, oh my God.” Steve’s hands grip your face. He’s ashen and music still plays. His pleas are muffled by it, you can barely make out what he’s saying. He risks looking away from you for a second. “Dustin! She-she’s awake!”

Within seconds your brother falls to his knees and presses his face to your stomach. He’s crying. The hot tears burn your bloodied skin but your weak hands still find him anyways. You hold Dustin tightly, selfishly. When you try to bury your face in Steve’s shoulder, something solid knocks against your head.

“Keep your headphones on.” Steve blocks your hand from taking them off. He isn’t letting you take them off ever again.

Headphones. The music playing, the memories that guided you home. Steve had saved you with your walkman. The realization causes you to jerk in his arms. You’re alive. This is real. Vecna almost killed you. You escaped.

Then where is Nancy?

“Nancy–” You try to get up, but Steve and Dustin hold you down. Panic swells in your chest. Nancy was with you. Vecna brought the two of you into his world, yet only one of you made it out. “Where is she? Is she–?”

Steve’s eyes betray him, revealing to you where Nancy is. She stands across from you, catatonic, and suddenly all the fear is back again. Tearing out of Dustin’s and Steve’s grasps, you run towards her. 

“Nancy!” You shake her viciously. She has to wake up. It can’t just be you who gets to live. You won’t let him win. Not like this. Above you, you see Max and Lucas running around. Eddie’s trailer is a wreck. They’re searching for something. “What are they looking for?”

Dustin tugs Nancy’s arm. “Music for her. It’s our only option.”

“Music.” you mumble, the song from your childhood still playing through your headphones. Nancy needs music. It’s the only way to get through to someone under Vecna’s curse. It’s what saved you. 

A song from your childhood brought you back to the ones you love. With Nancy’s life on the line, the song has to bring her back to you, too.

Ripping your headphones off, you shove them onto Nancy’s head. Steve and Dustin scream at you to put them back on. Your body had been floating not even a minute ago, but you don’t care. Ignoring their protests, your fingers fumble trying to find any possible song on the mixtape that can save her. 

“Please,” fresh tears fall onto the walkman. You can’t lose Nancy. Your relationship may be strained and complicated and tainted by a history neither one of you created yourselves, but she’s your dearest admiration. The world would be dim without her spark. You’ve lost so many people in your life. Pressing your forehead to Nancy’s, you breathe out, “Not you. I can’t lose you, too.”

A strangled gasp escapes Nancy’s mouth. The sound startles you, barely giving you or Steve enough warning to catch her as she falls. 

“You’re okay,” you brush her hair out of her face. Nancy’s chest rises and falls quickly. She’s hyperventilating, in a deep state of panic, and you hold her face delicately. She’s like a frightened deer, you’re afraid you’ll speak too loud and scare her away. “You’re okay, it’s okay.”

Steve is careful not to move her in his arms. “Breathe, Nancy. We’re right here.”

The words are meant to be calming. Your hands on Nancy’s face are meant to make her feel safe, loved. But she stares up at you and Steve with tears in her eyes and despair etched into her skin. 

Nancy begins to cry even harder and you don’t know what to do. “I need you to breathe–”

“The-the music.” She tries to sit up, but Steve won’t let her. Arms weak, she struggles against him. She looks at you frantically, trying to tear the headphones off of her. “You-you need them. He almost-he almost got you. The things he showed me, they were–”

Nancy sobs again, barely able to look at you out of guilt.

She remembers what she saw in your vision. 

The knowledge of this is ice cold against your skin, but there’s something else in Nancy’s reaction that unnerves you. This isn’t just about her now knowing your insecurities regarding her. This is something deeper. Bigger than any estranged relationship.

Vecna made her see something else.

Swallowing deeply, you level your eyes to hers. “Tell me everything, Nancy.”

And she does.

– 

Max’s trailer is all you have left. The cops swarmed Nancy’s house the second Patrick’s body was found. Your home is barricaded off from the public. They’re looking for Dustin, for you, and you don’t want to imagine how distraight your mother must be right now.

For lack of better words, it’s fucking depressing sitting in Max’s trailer surrounded by everyone. Exhaustion ghosts their faces. 

Lucas can’t seem to look away from you, the exhaustion of fear dulling his skin. Max taps her fingers anxiously. She hasn’t left your side since you’ve returned. Eddie nods at you, solemn. Erica, who arrived after the cops interrogated her, gives you a pitying look. 

Robin and Dustin hover you as if afraid you’ll disappear. Steve sits on the couch and presses his legs against your back as you sit on the floor; he needs to feel the heat of your body at all times. A reminder to him that you’re still alive. 

Nancy stands across from everyone. She insisted on doing this herself, that you didn’t need to be standing with her. While she’s always been stubborn and brave, you know she only does this because of the guilt. 

“He showed me things that haven’t happened yet,” Nancy rasps. Her eyes remain on the floor. She can’t look at anyone while she describes all the wreckage she saw. Downtown Hawkins on fire. Dead soldiers littering the streets.  

“And this giant creature, with a gaping mouth. It wasn’t-it wasn’t alone.” Nancy bites the inside of her cheek. She can’t afford to be afraid now. “There were so many monsters. An army. And they… they were coming into Hawkins. Into our neighborhoods. Our homes.”

Your nails dig into your palms. The sting quells the fear that rises within you. The more Nancy describes, more fury replaces your nausea. Hawkins is your home. There are so many good people within this town. Your family. The Wheelers. The Byers and the Sinclairs and the Mayfields and everyone else. 

So many innocent lives. All reduced to rubble and death by a rotting corpse from the Upside Down. 

Yet you still can’t get a hold of El. The only person who truly has any idea of how to stop Vecna is gone. She’s across the country with a landline that apparently doesn’t fucking work. It’s bullshit. It’s all complete and utter bullshit. 

“He showed me my mom. And Holly. Mike… And they were all–” When Nancy breaks, your fury melts into sympathy. You’re walking over to her in seconds, and Nancy throws herself into your arms as she cries. 

“He won’t hurt them.” You promise her, though it’s an empty promise that you both recognize. Neither one of you has any idea of how to stop Vecna. But Nancy clings to the comfort and allows herself to be weak. 

Lost in your worry for the girl, you miss Dustin speaking to you. He clears his throat awkwardly, raises his voice. You turn your attention to him, nodding to indicate you’re listening. 

“Did you see the same thing as Nancy?” Dustin asks you, shifting uncomfortably. The reminder of your body rising into the air only hours ago burns. “Did you… did you share the same vision?”

You and Nancy stiffen at the same time. She pulls away from you as if you’ve burned her. The shame of what she saw in your vision… Too much was revealed to her in an unfair way.

No one can ever know what you saw. It’s too painful, too embarrassing, but you know that the information could be important. Clearing your throat, you answer with what you can. “No, he didn’t show me Hawkins, just my…”

Your voice trails off. Everyone looks at you expectantly, waiting for more. Nancy described her visions in such detail, yet all you can give them are a few words. 

“Just my insecurities.” You clear your throat again. “He was trying to scare me. Similar to what he showed Max. I only got out of it because Steve saved me with the music.” He smiles at you, though it’s pained. Trying to ease the heaviness in the room, you shrug halfheartedly. “The Beatles. Saving lives since 1986.”

It works, albeit with minimal reactions. 

“The Beatles, huh?” Eddie gives you a weak smile. “That’s really what you consider music?”

“I almost died. Cut me some slack.”

Eddie opens his mouth to say more, but Steve shoves a hand in his face and shuts him up. He’s anxious. He hates how much the nine of you still don’t know. He doesn’t want to believe that Nancy’s vision had been real. “Maybe that’s all Vecna is doing. Trying to scare us. It’s not real.”

“Not yet.” Nancy lets out a defeated laugh. She isn’t convinced. Neither are you. That’s when she reveals the gates. How there were four of them spread across Hawkins. “This wasn’t the Upside Down Hawkins. This was our Hawkins. Our home.”

The hair on your arms stands up. He’s targeting your home. The fury is back; you hate Vecna. You hate him with everything within you.

Yet, in sickening irony, from the little you know about Vecna, you do know that nothing he does is accidental. He wouldn’t show Nancy four gates without it meaning something. A deep, awful churning sensation constricts in your esophagus. “Is he… trying to combine our worlds?”

“Four chimes.” Max finally speaks up. “Vecna’s clock.”

Everyone turns. Max only looks at you. “It always chimes four times. You heard them, didn’t you?”

“Yeah,” your mouth is dry. The chimes were the first thing you heard. It was how you knew Vecna had gotten you. “I heard them.”

“I heard them, too.” Nancy whispers. 

The room almost seems to hold its breath as everyone comes to the realization at the same time; you’re too afraid to breathe life into the words. Vecna has been telling you his plan this entire time. 

“Four kills.” Lucas slowly looks around the room. “Four gates… End of the world.”

His voice trails off and Dustin’s stomach drops. He studies everyone’s faces. No one seems to realize yet what he has. Dustin looks at you and for the first time in his life resents his intelligence; he wishes he could be naive. 

“If that’s true…” Dustin can’t say it. He can’t bring himself to say it.

“Then he’s only one kill away.” You finish for your brother, instinctively looking at Max. While everyone reacts to what you’ve said, cursing and filling with dread, you and Max stare at one another. You’re both thinking the same thing. 

Vecna is one kill away, and you’re both marked. 

Max’s jaw clenches. She can practically read your mind, knowing that you hope the death will be yours. That you’ll do anything to be the final kill if it means saving her life. All you’ve done this entire week is ensure Max’s safety. You’ve put her life above yours again and again. 

When Vecna almost killed her in the cemetery, Max heard you beg him to take you instead. It infuriated her.

There were you, ready to give up your life for hers without even considering how your death would affect everyone else. Max’s death would go unnoticed. She knows this and she’s accepted it.

But your death would fundamentally alter the earth’s makeup. You are the warmth that her and everyone else needs to survive. If you died because of Max, she knows everyone would blame her. It would be one more death that she caused. Your ghost would join Billy’s. 

Max shakes her head at you. A small, subtle and curt shake. One meant for only you to see. You breathe in sharply. Her stony gaze sears into your skin. The message is clear: Max won’t let you die, either. 

“Try Byers again.” Steve’s urgent voice prevents you from trying to argue with Max. He doesn’t see the interaction. He’s too lost in his own mind, mentally sifting through every possible solution he can come up with. Someone has to know something. “Try calling him again, Y/N.”

Steve is anxious and the crease between his brow deepens when he looks at you. He can’t let you die and you don’t have the heart to remind him that you’ve tried calling the Byers home repeatedly this week, just to be met with a busy signal. 

Instead you sigh and walk over to the phone. Dialing the long memorized number, the line rings. And rings. And rings again. Until the beep of the busy tone alerts you that the line is full. “Damn it!”

You slam your fist against the wall, frustrated tears threatening to spill over. Dustin bites his lip at your reaction. “Guessing he didn’t respond.”

“Maybe she typed it in wrong…?” The death glare you send Steve quickly has him backtracking. “I-I mean it’s possible!”

“The Byers are like Y/N’s second family, dingus.” Robin flicks your boyfriend’s head for you, which you appreciate her for.

You try dialing the number again, but the same thing happens. It rings a few times before the busy signal drones on. Frustrated and worried, you slam the phone down. “No answer. Again. It’s been like this all fucking week.”

“Didn’t you say Joyce has that new telemarketer job? She’s always on the phone. Mike never stops whining about it.” Dustin tries to reason.

Max looks at him, skeptical. “A busy signal for three days?” 

“I’ve never gone this long without hearing from them. They always answer…” fear pricks your skin. “Someone always calls me back. El, Will, Jonathan… something’s wrong.”

“She’s right. It can’t just be coincidence.” Nancy’s uncertainty mirrors your own. The two of you are the closest to the Byers. Their silence is unnerving. 

“What are the odds that something is happening in Lenora?” 

Nancy frowns at you. “Pretty high. And whatever is happening there, it has to be connected to all of this.”

“But how?” 

Everything that has ever happened in Hawkins has remained in Hawkins. While you don’t understand how or why, the Upside Down is tied to this shitty town. It doesn’t make any sense for it to spill over into California, hundreds of miles away.

“I don’t know.” Nancy looks out Max’s window, her face hardening. “But at least Vecna can’t hurt them.”

You laugh bitterly. “I never thought I’d be so happy that they’re in California.”

Every day you miss the Byers like an open wound. You miss Jonathan and his slanted smile. Will and his tenderness. El and her sweet laugh. Joyce and her warm embrace. Their absence is palpable in your life, but for once you’re relieved that they’re gone.

They’re as far away from danger as they can possibly be. Vecna, as far as you know, can’t reach them from Hawkins. Though you may not know why they’ve gone radio silent, at the very least you know they’re alive. 

“I’m not just talking about how far away they are.” Nancy turns to you. Color has returned to her face. Her eyes are bright again and she’s alive with an idea. “Vecna can’t hurt them if he’s dead.”

Nancy Wheeler has always been protective of the ones she loves. You both are; it’s what has tied the two of you together. The only difference is that Nancy sees red where you see cautionary yellow. 

“We have to go back in there. Back to the Upside Down.”

You almost pass out from how quickly you stand. “Are you insane?”

Steve grabs your waist, steadying you, while Eddie rocks back and forth on the couch mumbling to himself. Robin lets out a scared squeak and you can practically see every possible way you can die in the Upside Down before your very eyes. 

“We’re going to die,” you laugh hysterically, finally reaching your breaking point. “Nancy, we are going to die if we go back there.”

“Not if we’re prepared! This time we’ll get weapons and-and protection. We’ll go through the gate, find his lair, and we’ll kill him.”

“Oh, because it’ll be that easy, right? Look,” you break from Steve and grab Nancy’s arm, forcing her to look at you. “I’ve always gone along with your plans. But this? This is too far.”

Steve joins you, looking equally as overwhelmed and alarmed. “Y/N’s right. And, might I add, the only reason you survived is because he wanted you to. He’s not scared of us!”

Nancy falters for a moment. She knows Steve is right. Everyone knows that it wasn’t your music that brought her back. Vecna only allowed her to survive because he could. 

“He let you live because somehow it’s all a part of his plan.” You urge, frustrated that Nancy can’t see what you see. “What if this is what he wants? He knows us, he’s been watching us. He knows you, Nancy. You could be falling right into his trap.”

“And it’s a fucking good trap!” Robin jumps to her feet, already starting to pace as she mumbles to herself. “We were wrong about Vecna. Henry? One? I’m sorry, what are we calling him now?”

Everyone gives her a different response, and you chime in with your own suggestion: “Bitch.”

“I like bitch, but it isn’t really PG, is it?” Robin cracks a smile before remembering where she is. She rambles on about how all you’ve managed to learn about Vecna is that he’s a sick, twisted version of El with deadly powers. “He could turn us inside out with a snap of his fingers. It’s not a fair fight.”

“Then why fight fair?” Dustin finally speaks up. He’s thought of something, too. “You’re right. He’s like Eleven, but that gives us an upper hand.”

Frustratingly, your brother has a point. Ducking your head, you voice what he’s thinking. “Which means we know her strengths and weaknesses.”

“Exactly.”

“Weaknesses?” Erica looks at you and Dustin as if you’re insane. 

Dustin explains how El’s powers work. When he mentions the trance she always seems to fall under when she remote-travels, Lucas snaps his fingers. “That would explain what Vecna was doing in that attic.”

“And when he attacks his next victim–”

“His body will be defenseless…” you breathe out, hope igniting in your chest despite your attempts to snuff it out. 

Steve scoffs at you. “Defenseless? What about the army of bats?” He motions towards his bruised neck before pointing down at your thigh. “I mean, I love you, but I think you’re missing most of your thigh.”

“Only a quarter is gone.”

“Y/N.”

“Okay, maybe a little more.”

Dustin waves his hands at you and Steve. “Alright, we get it. The bats were a bitch, but all we need to do is find a way to distract them.”

“And, uh.” Eddie begins to rise from the couch. “How do we do that, exactly?”

“No idea.”

Eddie sits back down. You smile at him, tight lipped. He should’ve expected an answer like that, honestly. 

Dustin doubles down on his plan. “It’ll be like slaying sleeping Dracula in his coffin.”

But there are components to his plan that the group still needs to figure out. “We’d need someone to lure him, get him into the trance in the first place.”

Robin nods eagerly at you. “My thoughts exactly, and we don’t even know who he’s going to attack next–”

“Yeah, we do.” 

Your heart stops. 

Everyone turns to Max. She only meets your gaze. Her jaw is set, the same hardened look in her eyes from when she shook her head at you returns.

Knowing where this is going, you stand in front of Max and block her from the others. “No.” 

“I can still feel him–”

“No.” You can’t believe Max is even entertaining the idea of you letting her be the bait. As if you’d ever put her in that kind of danger. Like you wouldn’t die a million times if it meant she got to live once. “You know I won’t let you.”

Max glares back at you. “I’m still marked.”

“So am I.” A bitter laugh. “We’re both cursed. You and me. We’re one in the same, but I’m not letting you be the bait.”

“What, so I’m just expected to let you sacrifice yourself?” Max laughs incredulously. “Yeah, I’m sure that’ll go over well. Max Mayfield, the one who killed Hawkins’ sweetheart, responsible for yet another death!”

You try to reach out to her, but Max stumbles back. “No one is dying, alright? And you wouldn’t be responsible for my death. I’m choosing to do this. You’re-you’re just a kid, Max. It’s my job to protect you–”

“I never asked you to protect me!” Max screams, startling you into silence. The volume of her voice seems to surprise her as well because she takes a step back, breathing heavily. “I never… I never asked for any of this.”

Silence swallows the room. Max looks at you, her eyes pleading. Her words swim in your head. What did she mean by being responsible for another death? That she would be blamed for yours? 

“You didn’t ask me to protect you,” your voice shakes slightly. Holding her gaze, you allow your tears to fall. “But I never asked to lose you, either.”

Max breathes in sharply. Your words cut through her guard, breaking down the last of her walls. She’s silent again. 

“Neither one of you are going.” Steve is next to you now, hand falling against your back. He looks between you and Max, voice gentle, but firm.

“What if we… leveled the playing field?” Dustin hesitantly suggests. Lucas and Steve frown at him, shocked he’s even considering any of this seeing how protective he is of you. Dustin sighs, rubbing his face tiredly. “Look, they’ve both had visions. They’re both next. And whether we like it or not, Vecna has only doubled his chances of winning.”

Eddie stares at him in disbelief. “What, so we just have them both be the bait? Toss ‘em both to Vecna and see which one he bites?” 

“I’d word it better, but…” Dustin bites his lip, staring at you. “Yeah.”

Behind you, Steve tries to shove past the others to get to you. Only Lucas stops him, shaking his head at the older teen. Now isn’t the time, Lucas knows that Steve will say something he'll regret. 

Steve wants to scream. He doesn’t at all like what he’s hearing, but when he looks at you and notices the interest in your eyes, he feels his heart drop. You’re really considering this. You’re really willing to put yourself in danger to save Hawkins.

Because it’s what you do. It’s what you’ve always done. You’re too good for this world. Steve can’t let you get hurt, not like this. 

Tentatively you look at Max. “If one of us is in the Upside Down…”

“And the other in the attic in Hawkins.” Max continues for you, relieved you seem to understand. “He’s guaranteed to find one of us. And whoever he chooses, we just… we just need to keep him busy long enough so that the others can get into the attic.”

A game of luck disguised as a compromise. Even though luck has never been on your side, Max won’t back down from this, and neither will you. 

However this story ends, you hope that it’s your body that is buried. Max, thinking the same thing, smiles pitifully at you. Reaching a stalemate, all you can do now is smile back at her.

“Do me a favor,” you turn to the rest of the group. “When you stab him, blow him up with whatever explosives Dustin inevitably comes up with, however you end up killing this piece of shit… Try not to miss.”

“For both of us.” Max says. 

Steve’s hand presses harshly against your back. He’s biting his tongue. You can feel all the unsaid resentment and protests that die in his throat. Exhaustion darkens his eyes and you want, more than anything, to promise him that everything will be okay.

But you can’t. 

Not this time. 

– 

Eddie slams down a massive flier onto the table. With big, bold letters and an abundance of American flags in the background, the flier is your worst nightmare.

“‘The War Zone?’” You look at Eddie uncertainly. “Not a very welcoming store name.”

“That’s because it’s not a very welcoming store, princess.” He winks at you. “But I’ve been there before, and it’s huge. They’ve got everything you need for, uh…”

“War?”

“I was gonna say killing things, but war works, too.”

Robin pokes your side, gently moving you aside so that she can look over Eddie’s shoulder. “Think fake Rambo has enough guns there?”

“Well there’s a grenade sale going on, so.” You shrug at her. “I’m willing to bet they’ve got enough guns. And an aversion to laws.”

Robin still looks unsure, but Eddie quickly explains that the War Zone is far enough away from Hawkins that no one will recognize any of you there. With a wanted murderer and multiple accomplices in your group, anonymity is your only option. 

“But if we’re trying to avoid angry hicks, maybe we shouldn’t go to some store called the War Zone.” Erica points out, which you snort at.

“She’s not wrong.”

Nancy sighs. “Normally I’d agree, but we need the weapons. I think it’s worth the risk.”

Lucas agrees, but Dustin reminds everyone that you currently have no way to get there. Steve’s car is gone and all you have are bikes and prayers. 

Eddie smiles wickedly at your brother. “Who said anything about bikes?”

“What, you got some car we don’t know about?” Steve asks him.

“It’s not exactly a car, Steve. And it’s not exactly mine, but… it’ll do.”

You step in between Steve and Eddie. “What do you mean it’s not exactly yours?”

He ignores your question and looks at Max. “Hey, Red, you got a ski mask, or a bandanna, something like that?”

“Why the fuck do you need a ski mask–” You hit at Eddie’s chest, worry growing more and more by the second. 

Eddie catches your hand that swings down at him, a devious smile. “Have you ever stolen a RV, Y/N?”

“No. No fucking way.” You’ve never hated an idea more. “That’s someone’s home. And-and it’s a crime. A huge one at that, like insanely huge and very, very illegal–”

Dustin pats your back, laughing to himself. “C’mon. Lighten up a bit. Do it for science, for the world!”

“What does science have to do with any of this? We’re talking about literally robbing someone’s entire livelihood to go kill some wrinkly old guy and there’s no way in hell that I am ever agreeing to stealing a RV–”

You end up stealing a fucking RV. 

Eddie is wearing a ridiculous ski mask that Max once wore for Halloween as he guides you through the trailer park. Weaving in and out of mobile homes, Eddie finds his target and throws himself through the window. 

Steve jumps in next, leaning out the side so that he can then help you climb through. The window is just tall enough to be painful to squeeze into, and you let out several choice words as Steve pulls you up. 

“You alright?” He asks you once you’re in.

“I hate everything about this.”

“Henderson, you got anything sharp?” Eddie whispers from the driver’s seat. He’s holding a bunch of wires that all look the same to you.

Digging into your pocket, you toss him your knives. “If anyone asks, you stole them from me.”

Eddie smirks at you, flicking the knives open and cutting random wires. He works quickly, with practiced ease, and Steve notices, too. “Where’d you learn how to do this?”

Eddie’s fingers tie wires together and he laughs sarcastically. He explains that his father was the one who taught him, bitter and relentless. “I swore to myself I’d never wind up like he did, but now I’m wanted for murder, and soon, grand theft auto. So, uh. I’m really livin’ up to the Munson name.”

“Aren’t fathers lovely?” You force a laugh, but you can still feel the heavy weight of your father’s hands around you. The vision, how real he had seemed. Eddie gives you an odd, slightly concerned look, before Robin suddenly appears. 

“Eddie, I’m not sure I love the idea of you driving this thing.”

You bite your lip. “Honestly, I also don’t like the idea.”

“Oh, I’m just starting this sucker. Harrington’s got her.” Eddie leans in close to Steve, almost flirting with him. “Don’t ya, big boy?” 

Steve’s off-put expression, the pure joy in Eddie’s eyes and Robin’s utter confusion, it all makes you laugh hysterically. This entire situation is so fucking bizarre. Here you are, hotwiring a RV with Eddie goddamn Munson while he flirts with your boyfriend. 

The engine sparks to life, cutting your laughter short, and within seconds the married couple who owns the RV is pounding on the windows. Cover blown, Steve curses and shoves Eddie out of the way so that he can throw you against the passenger seat. 

“Get ready!” Steve shouts after making sure you’re secured before jumping into the driver’s seat.

Heart pounding, you quickly shout over your shoulder to the kids. “Everyone, hang on!”

Dustin scrambles onto the back window and holds on for dear life. “Drive, Steve!”

Throwing his foot on the gas, the RV pulls out of the trailer park with impressive speed. For being more home than mobile, you have to tightly clutch the sides of your seat in fear of flying forward. 

“Shit, they look pissed.” Dustin watches the couple run after the RV, but it’s a lost cause.

“I mean, it’s not every day you lose your house and your car in one fell swoop.” Robin says, body jolting due to the rough terrain. 

Steve screams, telling everyone to hold on, before he barrels through a pile of garbage. The RV takes a rough turn, tilting slightly, before finally finding the road. The tires squeal, but Steve manages to steady the vehicle and grace you with smoother driving. 

“We’re felons.” Your eyes are squeezed shut as you rub your stomach, nauseous. “I can’t believe we just stole that poor couple’s home.”

“Think Spidey would understand?” Steve spares you a glance as he drives.

“Don’t ever evoke his name while committing a felony.”

– 

For the first few miles, all you could focus on was the squeezing knot of guilt in your chest as the adrenaline crashed. Every car you passed set you on edge. Every passing second you were terrified you’d encounter cops and get pulled over, sent to jail.

However, after about fifteen miles, you finally settle into the drive. Despite all you’ve been through, it’s still a beautiful time of year. The spring trees are green and soft music plays on the radio. Everyone is quiet, looking out the windows or talking amongst themselves.

Steve looks at ease driving the RV, the dewy sun framing his beautiful face. This is the calmest you’ve seen him all week. Feet propped up on the dashboard, you poke his arm. “You look real comfortable driving this thing.”

He smiles softly, shrugging. “It’s not half bad, considering this is a house.”

You giggle, smiling along with him. A comfortable silence follows and the music floats around you. The guitar strings are sweet, melancholy, and they make you miss your father. “My dad used to play this song on his guitar.”

“He did?” Steve seems surprised you’ve brought your father up, and you don’t blame him. It isn’t often that you talk about him.

“Yeah,” you’re not sure why you’re telling Steve this. Not now, at least. Driving a stolen RV to a war store for supplies. “He’d play it around bonfires. Everyone loved it. It was… it was nice.”

“Did he… play any other songs?” Steve doesn’t want to push you. He’s honestly just grateful you’ve shared even this small snippet of your life with him, but Steve will always want to know more about you. 

You pause for a moment. You’re not used to talking about this with anyone else. Only Dustin and Jonathan. “The Beatles. He really loved the Beatles.”

“Sounds like your dad had good taste in music, then.” 

“Yeah,” smiling to yourself, you allow this one good memory of your father to linger. “He really did.”

After a beat of silence, Steve clears his throat. He doesn’t want this softness to end. “Thank you for telling me, angel.”

You shrug, cheeks burning. You’re uncomfortable with the sincerity. You know Steve is being genuine, but the foreignness of revealing yourself is still unsettling.

Not wanting to lose this vulnerability yet, Steve risks looking at you. “Dustin told me about him, you know. Your dad, I mean. He told me what he did. And I-I’m really sorry, Y/N. I am. Your family didn’t deserve that.”

You’re quiet. 

“I understand, now.” Steve doesn’t want to say the wrong thing. Not again, not like he always seems to do. “I-I had this dream, you know, that I’d have this really big family. I’m talking, like, a full brood of Harringtons. Like, five or six kids.”

Even though you laugh a bit, his confession stings. You know exactly why Steve has always envisioned a big family for himself. His home was never really a home. His family was never really a family. 

You’ve only ever met Richard Harrington once, and you will always remember how cold his eyes were. 

“And what would you do with these six kids of yours?” You entertain Steve’s dream because you love him. Because you know that no one else will.

Steve blushes slightly, although relieved that you’re at least responding to him again. “I figured every summer, all of us Harringtons would pack into something like this and just see the country. You know, the Rockies, Grand Canyon… maybe even the Shenandoah valley in Virginia.” 

It’s your turn to blush. Steve wants to take his kids to where you grew up. “That sounds really nice, honey.”

Steve looks at you hopefully, adoration in his eyes. “Yeah?”

“Yeah,” you know your eyes reveal your fondness for him, too. “Although six kids might be too much. I think three is all I’d agree to.”

Steve catches your slip before you do. He watches, bashful and giddy, as you realize what you’ve said. How you unconsciously told him your kids would be his kids. While you blush furiously at the implications, Steve’s heart flutters. 

So you do see a future with him. A family. 

Seeing Steve’s bashful smile, all your embarrassment fades away. He loves you, pure and unabashedly. All he wants is his future to have you, and you finally understand that you have a safe place to land. Steve will always be there to catch you. 

“You’ll be a good dad, honey.” He isn’t like your father. Steve doesn’t know how to abandon someone. It isn’t in his blood.

Steve ducks his head, smiling even wider. He thanks you softly, eyes flicking between you and the road. The strings that were twisted between you straighten. The knots come undone. Smiling at him again, you feel someone’s eyes on you.

When you turn around, you find Nancy quickly looking away. She pretends that she hadn’t been watching you and Steve, though she does a terrible job at it. Sighing, you kiss Steve’s forehead.

“I’ll be back.”

He tries to ask you where you’re going, but you’re out of your seat before he can finish his question. 

You sit next to Nancy, shoulder bumping against hers as you do so. She doesn’t look up at you, too busy pretending to be engrossed in Eddie’s War Zone flier. Her eyebrows are knit together and you know she’s anxious about it all.

Gently nudging her, you prompt Nancy to look at you. When she reluctantly does, you ask the question that’s been burning your tongue all morning. “How much of my vision did you see?”

“I-I’m so sorry.” Nancy breaks immediately. Unable to look at you, she turns her head and closes her eyes. “He… he showed me Steve. He made me listen to your cries as he and I–” Her voice cracks, nausea builds. “I heard what he told you.”

Your face burn in embarrassment. While you appreciate her honesty, you hate that Nancy saw you in your most vulnerable state. You hate that she had to see that your deepest, innermost insecurity is her. 

“It was real, wasn’t it?” Nancy hesitantly asks. Her lips are chapped and her voice is rough from disuse and uncertainty. “You really do think that Steve will never forget me.”

She knows she shouldn’t be asking you any of this. She knows that too much was shown to her, more than you’ve ever shown to anyone. Nancy doesn’t know what she would do if she were you. To have your deepest fears shown to someone without consent. Without any warning. 

You roll Nancy’s question around in your head. You aren’t surprised that she’s asked it; she’s never shied away from the questions that keep everyone else up at night. Absentmindedly your eyes roam Steve’s body. His shoulders are relaxed as he drives. He knows you’ll return to him when you’re done. 

It is a certainty for him, one only love can provide.

“I know he loves me.” You say slowly, carefully. Looking up at Steve again, your eyes soften slightly. “But I think sometimes I get scared of the hold you have over him.”

Nancy starts to laugh, loud and without any humor. Your eyes widen at her, hurt blooming within your chest. “What’s so funny, Wheeler?”

“Nothing!” She grabs your hand, laughter dying quickly. “God, I’m not laughing at you, I swear. It’s just-it’s ironic, isn’t it? I mean, I have the same fear with you and Jonathan. The hold you seem to have over him.”

Your thumb strokes the back of her hand. In a way, you suppose it all really is ironic. 

Risking it all, your head drops down to Nancy’s shoulder. She allows you to rest it there as you both stare out the window in front of you. “We were their first loves.” Watching the trees pass by, it’s all so very bittersweet. “Do you ever think about that?”

You were Jonathan’s first love. Nancy was Steve’s. 

Nancy hums softly, recognizing the irony as well. The two of you have always felt lesser than the other, yet the boys you love are so blindly devoted to you. Nancy remembers last summer and her cruel words of insecurity. 

“I’m sorry we wasted so much time.” Nancy whispers, and you don’t need to ask her what she means. You know she’s referring to the July phone call. 

“Lost time can always be made up.”

Nancy squeezes your hand. The two of you sit in the quiet for a moment, mending the fragments that were shattered a while ago. The mending isn’t perfect. Some pieces have been lost forever, but the image it creates is the same; it’s still love.

“I know you don’t need me to tell you this, but I’ve never seen Steve so in love.” 

You pick your head up and smile at her, appreciative of the sentiment. “Jonathan is the same, you know. He loves you so much, Nancy. Even if he struggles to show it.”

Nancy doesn’t believe you. You can see it in the way her eyes suddenly darken. The wrinkle in her forehead. She doesn’t believe that Jonathan loves her anymore, and the thought makes you ache. 

“I know he’s been distant lately. He’s been distant with me, too.” The admission is difficult only because you don’t want Nancy to think you’re being cruel. She deserves to know everything. “He’s lonely in California. He misses you more than I think he’s even able to process.”

Slowly, Nancy nods at you to continue; you haven’t scared her away yet. “Jonathan will never admit when he’s hurting, it’s infuriating and admirable all at the same time. But he… he gets lost, sometimes. Jonathan loves you so much that he’s afraid he doesn’t deserve you. He doesn’t understand that sometimes love is selfish.” 

Do you ever wonder if we’ve made a mistake?

But you ‘n me? ‘S easy. Always so easy.

Jonathan hadn’t been confessing his feelings for you. It’s only now that you realize this. He’d just been scared, weak. Weak from hiding his fears, his uncertainty for his future and the weight of his family on his shoulders. 

All his life Jonathan has only ever known instability. He was never able to adjust to Nancy’s foundations. It was only when he was finally starting to trust the stability that their fighting began, and Jonathan hid. It was instinctive.

“Jonathan, he called me the other night.” You say, causing Nancy to stiffen slightly. You squeeze her hand again, silently urging her to listen before she says anything else. “It was before the world was ending, obviously, and he… he asked me if I ever thought we made a mistake. Me and him.”

“A mistake?” Nancy shakes her head. 

“Steve and I had a fight earlier that day, and you and Jonathan were having problems, so he just… he was afraid that if we made a mistake choosing you and Steve, then it would mean we made things harder for you, too.” 

The wrinkle in Nancy’s forehead lessens, but only by a fragment. She’s listening, she’s trying to follow along, but she’s been so hurt for so long that it’s difficult for her to distinguish fact from fiction. 

“Loving you has always been easy for him to do, so he got scared when the ease fell away.” Your eyes never leave Nancy’s. “Jonathan didn’t understand that love can be just as hard as it is soft. You can’t have one without the other.”

Nancy is quiet for several long moments. She sits with your words, allows herself to think through them. To trust where they came from and know that they’re meant to help, not hurt. Eventually, Nancy exhales after months of holding her breath. 

“‘Love can be just as hard as it is soft’.” Nancy laughs, short but genuine. “I like that.”

A laugh echoes from your own chest. “Thanks, Wheeler. Came up with it myself.”

“It’s me who should be thanking you.” She ducks her head, suddenly shy. “Thank you. For everything.”

You squeeze her hand one last time. Recognizing her thanks as a polite dismissal, wanting to be alone right now, you kiss the back of her hand before rejoining Steve up front. 

Steve catches your hand before you can sit in the passenger seat. He kisses it, the same as you did with Nancy’s. “What did you two talk about?”

Tucking a strand of hair behind his ear, you catch Nancy’s eye in the rearview mirror. She winks, secretive and teasing, and you wink back at her. Sitting down, you prop your feet back up on the dashboard. 

“We were just catching up.”

– 

By the time Steve pulls into War Zone’s parking lot, it’s packed with cars. There are way more people than expected, concerned families running around with guns they don’t know how to use.

“I guess a grenade sale draws in a big crowd.” You whistle low, eyes following a dad and daughter bickering over a baseball bat. 

Steve parks the RV and turns around in his seat. “Alright, dipshits. What’s the plan?” Robin rolls her eyes. “Don’t call us dipshits, dipshit.” 

“Obviously Eddie stays in the RV. He’s Indiana’s most wanted at this point.” Eddie tips an imaginary hat at you. “Dustin and Lucas, you guys should stay, too.”

Your brother makes a disgruntled sound. “What do you mean I’m staying?”

“You’re both in Hellfire and a lot of people with guns want the club gone. I’m not letting either of you step foot in there.”

Lucas sags in his seat, but he doesn’t argue. He knows you’re right. Dustin, however, continues to argue. “Did you forget that I almost watched you die ten hours ago? I’m not leaving you.”

Annoyance softening, you tug at Dustin’s hat playfully. “Don’t worry about me. We grew up with hicks, I know how to fend them off.”

“Plus we’ll be glued to her side, little Henderson.” Robin points at Steve, who nods quickly. “We got her.”

It takes some more arguing and a bribe from Eddie before Dustin eventually calms down. You leave him with Lucas, trusting they’ll be fine on their own. Steve holds his hand out and helps you walk down the RV’s steps and into the store.

Inside, a swarm of people are running around. The entire point of driving all the way to the War Zone was to avoid Hawkins, and yet here everyone is: stocking up on pistols and mace.

“Let’s… be fast.” Nancy eyes everyone wearily, and none of you hesitate to agree.

Splitting up, you, Steve, and Robin head towards the gasoline section. You’d suggested it during the drive here. Fire has always been the most reliable weapon against the Upside Down. 

Eyes scanning the gasoline aisle, you make a mental list of what else you may need. “Okay, I think we should get at least six of these–”

Steve must see something in another aisle, because he whips around and screams behind his shoulder, “Be right back!” 

Robin frowns. “He has the attention span of a dog.”

“Don’t say that,” you toss another can of gasoline into your cart. “It’s offensive to dogs.”

Giggling, Robin helps you. Loading the cart to the brim, you almost miss Steve’s sudden return. “What do you think, angel?”

Looking up, you almost drop the can you’re holding. In the midst of weapons and ammo within the store, Steve has somehow managed to find a nice, brown army jacket. The material is thick, covered in patches, and the brown looks criminally good on your boyfriend. While you’ll miss his arms being on constant display, you almost don’t want him to ever take the jacket off again.

Seeing your speechless reaction, Steve smirks at you. “I take it you approve?”

“Mhm,” your mouth is dry. 

“Good, because I also found this.” Steve reveals another brown army jacket behind him, only this one is smaller. More your size. Not even waiting for your approval, Steve drapes the material over your shoulders. “And now we match.”

“You’re disgusting,” you grumble, though you both know your heart isn’t in it. The apples of your cheeks burn a cherry red. Taking Robin’s flannel off, you return it to her. “A part of me thinks Steve wants me to wear the army jacket because he doesn’t like seeing me in your clothes.”

Steve shrugs. “Half true.”

“Has anyone ever told you how gross you two are?” Robin gags. “I mean, really, it’s sickening how annoying you…”

Her voice trails off. Mid insult. Something she has never done before in the two years you’ve known her. Confused, you look up and notice her lovestruck expression as she stares at something. Following her line of sight, you almost laugh when you find the familiar red curls standing across from you.

“What are you gonna do? Stand and gawk?” Steve teases Robin, amused by the series of events.

You elbow his side. “Be nice. All you did was gawk at me for months.”

“Both of you, shut up.” Robin commands, voice breathy. Her eyes never leave Vickie and she takes a step forward, finally having the courage to approach her, before some guy comes up behind Vickie and scares her.

Vickie yelps, turning around to tell the boy off, but instead he takes her into his arms. The guy is tall, lanky but sure. He stares down at Vickie like she’s some prize and your stomach twists into knots. 

When their lips connect, you can almost feel Robin’s heartbreak. Her face drops and the light in her eyes is extinguished. Vickie turns, face paling when she sees Robin, and the entire ordeal is too much for her to handle. 

Robin’s shoulder knocks roughly against yours as she flees. You call after her, wanting desperately to follow. You know how cruel unrequited love can be. “Robin, wait!”

But Steve stops you, gently pulling you back. “Give her some space.”

As much as you want to argue, snatch your arm back and run after your heartbroken friend, you know that Steve is right. Robin has always preferred seclusion to public displays. She’s never wanted anyone’s pity. When she’s ready, she’ll find you and Steve and you’ll give her all the sun’s rays to melt the ice of rejection.

Steve helps you look for whatever else you’ll need. You roam the aisles, both silent and worried for your friend. At one point you end up in the knives section. When you turn your head to ask Steve his opinion on a silver hilt you find, the question dies in your throat.

Nancy is across the store, holding a rifle while Jason Carver stalks closer and closer to her.

“He’s like a goddamn plague,” you sneer to yourself. Quickly catching Steve’s attention, you motion over to the two teens. “We got a problem.”

Steve curses, also exasperated seeing Jason, but when he tries to walk towards them you stop him. Shaking your head, you block his path. “I love you, but if you go over there right now you’ll make everything worse.”

“That’s not true!”

“Steve.”

He falters. “Okay, well. What do you want me to do?”

“Go find Erica and the others and tell them we’re leaving. Clearly we’ve overstayed our welcome here.” Smoothing down your new leather jacket, you fix your hair and adjust your shoes. “As for me, I’m really hoping Jason still has that crush on me from last summer.”

Steve gawks at you, but you shove him towards the exit and beckon him to do as you say. Jason has only gotten closer to Nancy during your conversation. He leers over her, gripping the rifle with possession. 

Trying to keep your steps slow, casual, you analyze their body movements as you approach. Jason smirks at Nancy, as if he knows all her secrets. “Well, you look nervous.”

Nancy swallows. “Like I said. Scary times.”

Jason doesn’t like her answer. “Now, your brother. Is he here with you, by chance?”

Hearing him mention Mike, your heartbeat races as you practically sprint towards Nancy. Your appearance is abrupt, you’re breathless from exhilaration, and when your body slams against Jason’s, you feign sympathy. “Oh! I’m so sorry, I didn’t see you there.”

Body turned towards Nancy, you nod at her once, reassuring, before forcing a smile on your face and spinning back around to Jason. “Long time no see, Carver.”

“Y/N.” He doesn’t return your smile. 

Tension thick, you pretend not to notice it. “Sorry for interrupting, but I found the bat Nancy was looking for earlier and was dying to show her.” Tilting your head at her, you indicate towards the exit with your eyes. “Wanna check it out?”

She nods, understanding the hidden meaning behind your words. “Yeah, let’s go.”

“Not so fast.” Jason still hasn’t let go of Nancy’s barrel. He tugs it back, forcing you and her to freeze. “I asked Wheeler here a question. Have you seen Mike?”

“No.” Nancy doesn’t flinch away. “He isn’t here.”

Jason then looks at you. There is no warmth in his gaze. “And your brother, he’s in that Hellfire club too, isn’t he? Have you seen him around?”

“I’m not my brother’s keeper.” You keep your voice cold, neutral. Jason is trying to get a reaction from you. He wants you to be scared of him. But you’ve dealt with worse men than him. Wrapping your hand around his arm, you dig your nails into his flesh. “You understand, right?”

Jason’s mouth twitches. His composure is quickly slipping and Nancy uses the slip against him, Tightening her grip on the gun, she pulls it against her chest. “Let go.”

His hand remains. They maintain eye contact, neither looking away. Your nails dig even deeper, the skin beneath them breaks. Hot blood seeps into your nailbeds and Jason finally lets go. 

He rubs the crescent indents in his skin, chuckling darkly at you. “Quite a grip you got there.”

“I tend not to let things go.” A sickly sweet smile crawls onto your face. 

Jason smiles back at you, holding your gaze for another few seconds, before finally walking away. He doesn’t say anything else. The moment he’s gone, you lace your fingers through Nancy’s and run through the store to find Steve and the others.

“That was close.” You duck behind a cart, nearly running into one of Jason’s goonies.

“Too close.” Nancy finds Robin, pointing towards her as she looks for an opening to run. “Think you’ll be able to run?”

“Not really much of a choice, is there?”

And you run. Weaving through what feels like the entirety of Hawkins, you and Nancy manage to break through the store’s exit with Steve, Robin, Max, and Erica in tow. Bursting through the RV’s door, it’s a mess of bodies flailing into seats and screams.

“We need to leave. Now!” You shout at Dustin and the others, having no other time to explain further. “Everyone find a seat and stay low.”

Dustin screeches at Steve to drive while everyone scrambles to do as you’ve said. Hands shaking as you buckle your seatbelt, Steve only has enough time to shout “get ready!” before he’s starting the engine.

The War Zone sign fades into the distance. 

– 

The further you drive, the thicker the air in the RV becomes. Unease creeps over the seats, onto your skin. Nancy sits with all the bags around her as she and Robin sort through them. Dustin watches them, knee bouncing up and down.

Nancy talks first. Slowly, piece by piece, her and Dustin come up with a plan. 

“We’ll need to split into groups.”

“But how many? And where would everyone go?”

Nancy pauses for a moment. “One group in the Upside Down and one group at the Creel house. That should be enough, right?”

You raise your hand as if you’re in school. “If I may, I’d like to remind the class about the bats. We aren’t getting anywhere if they’re eating us alive.”

“She’s got a point.” Dustin says. 

Nancy sighs, but she doesn’t have an answer. 

“What if we had another group in dimension hell?” Eddie suggests. “Ya know, distract the little fuckers while the main group goes and be heroes.” 

“I don’t know,” you shift in your seat. You’re already risking a lot having a few of you go back into the Upside Down. The thought of risking even more lives makes your skin crawl. “Ideally, the less of us in the Upside Down, the better.”

Steve nods. “I’m with Y/N on this one. We don’t all need to go down there. It’s creepy and freakishly cold.”

“It’s our only option. Whoever goes there to kill Vecna will need all the help they can get.” Max says. “If the bats get to them first, then it’s pointless.”

Lucas nods, agreeing with Max, and Dustin has to nod as well. She’s right. There needs to be a third group if there’s any hope of pulling this off. 

Nancy, seeing the growing agreement between everyone, nods. “Alright. Then it’s settled. There’ll be three groups. Me, Y/N, Steve, and Robin will go to the Upside Down and track down Vecna.”

She waits a moment, giving time for anyone to protest. When no one does, she continues. “Y/N will have her walkman, but she won’t use it unless absolutely necessary. If Vecna chooses her, Steve will watch her while Robin and I go into the attic.”

“I’ll be the best goddamn bodyguard there ever was.” Steve jokes, trying to laugh away the discomfort of knowing your life will be on the line of luck. Knowing what he’s doing, you kiss his hand softly.

“If you fuck up and get my sister killed, I know how to procure acid.” Dustin forces Steve to meet his eyes in the rearview mirror. The older teen gulps.

Touched, you preen at Dustin. “That’s the nicest threat anyone has ever said for me.”

It gets him to laugh, which you’re thankful for. Nancy cracks a smile as well, but it dims when she remembers where she is. Where you all are. 

“Max, Erica, and Lucas will be at the Creel house. They’ll have her walkman as well. If Vecna chooses her, Lucas needs to be ready.”

The teen slowly nods at Nancy. He hunches his shoulders, places the weight of Max’s life upon him. You’re not entirely comfortable with leaving the kids alone at the house, but it’s the safest location. You’d rather they be in Hawkins than the Upside Down.

You’ll give Max your knives. You’ll show her how to use them and you’ll pray that she never has to. They’ll be fine.

At least, that’s what you keep telling yourself. The mantra that is keeping you sane. 

“Eddie, would you be alright with distracting the bats?” Nancy turns to him, the question posed more as a silent challenge. It was his suggestion; now he has to be willing to lay his life down for it. 

Eddie pales at the question. “I-I mean I guess? Like, would I be-I don’t know, screaming at them? Or-or running around like an idiot, or–”

“I’ll go with him.” Dustin interrupts, saving Eddie from a nervous breakdown. 

Your head spins around the second you hear his voice, cold with fear. “No–”

But Dustin expected this reaction. He meets your fear with a leveled response. “Y/N, this is the only way.”

“I won’t let you go into the Upside Down!” Screaming, voice raw, panic sets in. This is all wrong. Everything is wrong. You could die tonight, Max and Lucas and Erica will be defenseless in a house that you can’t reach, and now your brother wants to go to the place that almost killed you?

It’s too much.

“And I won’t leave Eddie behind!” Dustin screams back at you. “He needs me, and if it means the bats won’t try to kill you again, then I’m doing it.”

“But–”

“I’m sure it’ll be fine, Y/N. We kinda need them.” Robin tries to placate you, but you’re seeing red and you can’t breathe.

Eddie manages to catch your eye. He lowers his voice, the most sincere he’s ever been. “I promise I’ll protect Dustin with my life. Alright? I won’t let the shithead die.”

Only it’s the wrong thing to say. Your ears are ringing and your chest feels like it’s about to explode. Anger and fear and despair all claw at your throat, begging to be released. 

“Do you really think I can’t protect my own brother?” You hiss at Eddie, teeth clenched and face burning. The words tumble from your mouth before you can even really stop them. You’re blinded by anger, by the overwhelming feeling that you’ll lose. 

You can’t protect everyone on your own. Not this time, not like you’ve always done. Your entire life you’ve given everything within you to protect the ones you love. Pieces of yourself have been broken, bruised, exhausted from it; but it’s all you know. 

You’ve never been good at asking for help. Never trusted anyone enough to love and care for your family with the ferocity that you do. 

But now, faced with something much bigger than yourself, your greatest fear has come true. You have to let go. You have to trust that someone else will be there for your loved ones when you can’t. There’s nothing else you can do.

And it’s fucking terrifying. 

Eddie clears his throat in response to your sudden outburst. The RV falls silent. Eyes stare at you and you turn away in shame, facing the windshield with tears in your eyes. Steve can’t keep his eyes on the road knowing you’re upset.

Eventually there’s a field and Nancy tells Steve to park. With nowhere else to go, the open field will be your basecamp. There are weapons to be made, final moments to be shared. 

No one wastes any time getting out. The RV empties quickly until it’s only you, Dustin, and Steve who remain. Your brother clears his throat awkwardly, standing before you with his arms tucked behind him. 

“Code blue?”

Strings twinge in your chest, but laughter floods anyways. “Yeah,” you wipe your eyes, already crying. “I think we’re due for one.”

You get up from the passenger seat, giving Steve a quick but reassuring glance. He understands without having to be told that you need to be alone with your brother. Giving you some privacy, he turns away while you and Dustin head towards the back. 

Sitting down, Dustin immediately falls against you. You butt heads, playfully and childishly, and you want to cherish these small moments with your brother forever. 

“Please don’t be like dad.” Dustin whispers, so quiet you almost don’t hear him. 

Your throat closes. “Dustin…”

“You can’t leave me. Not like he did. You can’t-you can’t do that to me and mom.” There are tears in his eyes. 

The mention of your mother makes you cry as well. You miss her, you haven’t seen her in days and all you want is to have her hold you one last time. To hear her call you her sweet girl again. To etch her love for you into your skin. 

“I won’t leave you,” your fingers grip Dustin’s arms. Your body shakes, so does his. “I-I won’t. I love you, okay? More than anything in this world. I’m your sister, and I know I haven’t been a very good one recently and I know that I can’t promise that everything will be okay, but–”

“All I want from you is for you to come home.” Dustin rasps. His eyes shine and he sniffs, shaking his head fondly, albeit annoyed. “God, that’s all you have to do. Don’t be like him, don’t leave the house empty. That’s all I want from you, Y/N.”

Brushing his hair back, the promise you make doesn’t burn how you expect it to. “I’ll come home.”

“Good.” Dustin throws himself into you, arms gripping you tightly. His hair tickles your nose and his hat almost pokes your eye out, but you hold onto him anyways. 

“Yo, Henderson!” Eddie’s voice calls from outside. There’s a bang on the RV door, followed by a quiet curse for presumably injuring a hand. “Come help me with these trash lids. The nails are bitches!”

“Trash lids?” You ask Dustin.

He shrugs. “Weapon against the bats. Could be worse.”

You snort, pushing the kid away. “Go help Munson. With his luck, he’ll lose an eye wielding a hammer.” 

Dustin also laughs and allows your body to leave. He stands up, lingers in the doorway, before smiling one last time at you. Your promise to him melts into his skin. He’s chosen to believe you; you have to choose to believe yourself as well.

When he’s gone, the silence in the RV almost drowns you. There’s a dull roar in your head. Conversations echo. Nancy’s confessions and Dustin’s terror. Max’s sacrifice. How long it’s been since you’ve been alone.

Your head drops to your hands. Squeezing your eyes shut, you try to salvage what little of your sanity is left. 

A body lands next to you. The smell of bergamot and spice is like a salve to your open wounds. Hands grab your body, pull you flush against a chest. Without having to look, you know Steve is the one holding you.

He lays you down onto the couch and you curl into him instinctively. You use his body to shield you away from the world, feeling like a little kid again. Your bones ache. Steve rubs your flesh as if to dispel the pain that is always there. 

“I know you want to be alone right now,” his chest vibrates against your cheek as he speaks. “But can I just say that I hate this plan?”

His honesty is refreshing, candid and desperately needed. It causes the corners of your mouth to tug upwards, ever so slightly. The ache lessens, the echoes aren’t as deafening. 

Pressing your nose against the base of Steve’s neck, you allow yourself to be weak in this moment. To be soft, vulnerable, trusting that he’ll catch you. “I don’t want to die.”

Steve kisses your forehead, lips warming the cold skin underneath. “I know.” His finger strokes your cheek. He memorizes the lines and dots that litter your face. Old scars, new ones that will never really go away. “It’s a good thing I won’t let you.”

You smile again. No one can promise anything anymore. Yesterday you almost died, today you will use your life as bait, and tomorrow you might never see. Nothing is promised. Not anymore. 

Yet you believe Steve. 

“What did you see in your vision?”

The question is whispered and velvety. You haven’t talked about last night, but Steve knows whatever you saw is weighing on you. He can see the way you carry it on your shoulders, tired and aching. He noticed the tension between you and Nancy, the unyielding fear of letting your brother go. 

Your eyes meet. The brown honey in Steve’s eyes reminds you that he’s real. Here, in his arms, you’re safe. You could confess all your sins to him and Steve would kiss the impurity with holy lips and call you angel. 

Taking a deep breath, you tell him everything. 

“He took me to a field. I recognized that it was Virginia the moment my feet touched the grass. I could see my childhood home up the hill and there was someone calling my name.” Your father’s voice echoes in your ears. You can’t remember the last time he called. “It was my dad.”

Steve pulls you closer.

“I ran to him, even though I knew it wasn’t real, but–” you were a child when he left. The wound will never fade. “I had to see him. I just… I wanted to remember what it was like to be held by him.”

Warm. You remember the warmth.

“Then suddenly I was falling. I screamed, but-but no one could hear me. I was in the woods. The same woods Will disappeared in and I was so scared he had him. That it was all my fault again. I was the one who lost him again. I started to run. I-I had to find him… But he wasn’t there.”

How many times had Will called for you the night he disappeared?

“He’s safe in California, Y/N.” Steve reminds you, tucking hair out of your face. He wants to smooth the worry lines in your face, mold your skin into something calmer, happier. “It wasn’t real.”

“I know none of it was real, but the things Vecna showed me…” Unable to bear saying anything else, you give yourself a moment to breathe. Nothing had been real. But it had felt real. 

Steve frowns, sensing that there’s something else. “What else did he show you, angel?”

“You,” you breathe out, too weak to find any other way to say it. “He showed me you.”

Surprise mars his pretty face. “Me?”

“Nancy, too.” Wiping a tear, you fix Steve’s hair, needing something to distract yourself with. You don’t want to tell him any of this. Shame coats your body but the love in his eyes subdues it. “Vecna preys on your fears, your insecurities, and for me… He showed me you and Nancy together. Having sex.”

Steve doesn’t say anything. 

“He told me that you’d never forget her. Not as easily as my father forgot me, at least.” You laugh bitterly. “He has a sick sense of humor. I’ll give him that.” 

Still Steve remains silent. 

But for once, his silence doesn’t scare you. There’s a trust behind it. An understanding that he wants you to continue, to tell him everything. And you do. 

“I’m scared my guilt will suffocate me.” The confession falls from your lips as easily as a prayer does. “I’m scared of starting a life with someone that I can’t control. I’m scared that I’ll always be abandoned. That I’ll always be second to Nancy. Every boy I have loved has loved her. Who wouldn’t be terrified of that?”

“There’s nothing to be afraid of, angel.” Steve cups your face. He doesn’t know what he feels right now. Anger, for both you and him. Agony that he can’t absolve you from the guilt, from the thought of him leaving you. “I love you. Only you.”

“I know you do,” you bring your hand to his face as well. He leans against your palm, gaze tragic and loyal. There is no doubt that he loves you. That has never been what you’ve doubted. 

It’s always been the how. 

How he came to love you. After Nancy. After she left him. After you picked up the pieces she left behind. The love that you know is yours is genuine, but you’ve always been terrified that the foundations of it are false. 

With Steve staring down at you as if you’ve hung the sun and moon for him, you ask him the question that’s been lingering in the back of your mind ever since he crashed into your life. 

“Would you have loved me even without Nancy? If we hadn’t fallen together because of her, would you still have fallen in love with me?”

The answer comes easily to Steve. “Always.”

And it’s everything you need from him. One word, but it’s enough. 

Your fist grips his shirt. A tug, no time to prepare, and your lips crash together. There is nothing soft. The kiss is bruising and it is rough and hard and urgent. Everything left unsaid between you and Steve rises to your lips and melts into your tongues. For every broken promise, there is a bite of skin, a lick of flesh. For every hurt you brought upon the other, there is a soft moan of an apology.

Heat pours from your teeth and into Steve’s lungs. Your breaths become one, your heartbeats overlap and he is everywhere. He is an explosion of light festering on your skin. 

“I see more than just a future with you,” Steve whispers against your lips, hushed and aching. It takes everything within him to pull away for even a second. He kisses you again. Over and over until he’s memorized every crevice of your lips, the cracks on them. “I see my entire life with you.”

Steve breathes you in, hands cradling your face as if to steady the dizziness within him. He looks into your eyes, follows the flushed pink of your lips and your staccato breathing. He takes you in and hopes he never has to forget the way you look when you are in love. 

“I would wait forever,” lips skim the length of your face. Feather light kisses trace your nose, flutter against your eyelids. Inhaling sharply, Steve rests his forehead against yours. He stays there. He will never leave. “I would wait forever if it meant I could start forever with you.”

This is love. This is what can never be taken from me.

“Hey! Lip smackers!” Robin bangs through the RV door, scaring the shit out of you and Steve and causing you to spring apart. She smirks at your reaction, though she tries to cover it with a scoff. She crosses her arms. “Are you assholes gonna help us, or are you too busy swapping spit?”

Steve’s face turns fire red. “Do you always have to be so vulgar?”

“It’s why people find me so charming. Right, Y/N?”

“As long as the nickname ‘lip smackers’ doesn’t stick, I’ll agree with whatever.” You say, getting off the couch. 

Robin laughs. “I actually kinda like it. Has a nice ring to it, ya know?”

“No,” you and Steve say at the same time. Your “no” is more bored while Steve’s is more panicked. 

Rolling your eyes at his affronted reaction, you pat his cheek lovingly and press a quick kiss to it. “Nicknames aside, I should go. There’s one more person I need to talk to.”

Steve tilts his head at you, silently asking who, but you don’t respond. Instead, you turn to Robin. “Whatever you make him help you with, just promise me you won’t scar his pretty face. I have to look at it for the rest of my life.”

Robin grins, secretly relieved the two of you finally seem to be okay again. “No promises, pretty girl. He’s gonna help me make molotov cocktails and we all know his hair is a fire hazard.”

“Ha ha,” Steve laughs boredly. “Very funny.”

You giggle alongside Robin, leaving them to grab their needed supplies. The sunlight outside kisses your skin and in the distance you find Eddie chasing Dustin around. They wield their makeshift shields around, laughing like children.

The image of them before you leaves you breathless for a moment. Even when everything seems grim and hopeless, Eddie has still found a way to make your brother laugh.

They don’t see you approaching them. You have to sidestep Dustin, who nearly runs into you. “Woah!” You grab his shoulders, steadying him. Something pokes your thigh, and when you look down you realize it’s his nail filled trash lid. “God, you’re bound to poke someone’s eye out.”

“What are you doing here?” Dustin asks you, looking around for Steve.

“I came to ask if I could steal Eddie away from you for a second.” You respond, shrugging as if you’ve ever offered to interact with Eddie outside of Dustin. “I need to talk to him.”

Both boys widen their eyes. Eddie pales, while Dustin narrows his eyes at you. “The last time I let you talk to one of my friends, you ended up making him your boyfriend.”

Eddie blanches while you flick your brother’s forehead. “Then it’s a good thing I don’t want Eddie to be my boyfriend.”

Without another word, you grab Eddie by his jacket and yank him away. Dustin shouts at you that he’ll rat you out to Steve, but you don’t care. Eddie is a mumbling mess, unsure what you want with him and slightly terrified he’s done something wrong. 

When you’re far enough away from everyone else, you finally release him. Tucking your hair behind your ears, you look at Eddie. “I owe you an apology.”

“Oh.” He blinks. This definitely hadn’t been what he was expecting. “Can I ask what for?”

“Don’t play dumb. I know I kinda lost my mind earlier. You can say it.” You roll your eyes. “I won’t kill you.” 

“Says the girl who held a knife to my throat.”

“Water under the bridge.” Your fingers fidget. You know this is the right thing to do, but it still makes you uncomfortable. “Look, it was wrong of me to snap at you. I, uh. Get pretty defensive when it comes to accepting help.”

Eddie doesn’t say anything, although his eyes flash with slight amusement. 

You clear your throat. “I guess I also struggle to accept when I’m no longer needed.”

“Bullshit.” Eddie laughs in your face. “The universe will always need Hawkin’s sweetheart. Don’t sound so pessimistic, sunshine.”

“You never shut up, do you?” You cut him off, glaring. Here you are, trying to be vulnerable with him, and he’s laughing at you. “Jesus. Anyways, what I’m trying to say is, I shockingly have found myself tolerating you.”

“Gee, you really know how to make a guy feel special.”

“I try,” you glance quickly at Eddie, smirking, and he smirks back. “For a long time, I didn’t understand what Dustin saw in you. You were a total jackass with a giant ego, but I guess these last few days have proven you’re only a tolerable jackass with a moderately oversized ego.”

A surprised laugh leaves Eddie’s lips. “Wow, you really aren’t holding back.”

“Figured we’re overdue for some honesty.” You hate being vulnerable, but Eddie deserves this. Swallowing down your nerves, you finally confess the real reason you’re here. “I’ve never had to place Dustin’s safety in someone else’s hands. I’ve always found a way to be there for him, even through years of constant hell and monsters. I’ve always… I’ve always been the one to protect him.”

Eddie’s laughter is gone.

“But tonight I can’t. Tonight, all I can do is make you promise me that you’ll keep my baby brother safe. I-” Your voice breaks, there are tears that you don’t want to fall. “I need you to promise me, Eddie.”

He sucks in a breath. The boyish humor he so often portrays is stoic. He’s serious, perhaps for the very first time since you’ve met him. 

The two of you stare at one another, both unwavering, before Eddie slowly, almost mischievously, extends his pinky to you. “I promise.”

Linking your pinky around his, your cheeks burn from the suppressed smile. 

– 

The sun is setting when everyone climbs back into the RV. No one speaks. There isn’t anything else to talk about, driving to the Creel house. 

The silence weighs heavily upon the car, setting alongside the sun. You sit in the passenger seat, holding your knives to your chest with your headphones dangling over your neck. There is still blood staining the bandage on your shoulder. The bites on your thigh aches. 

You’ve done all that you can. You keep repeating this to yourself, over and over again like a prayer.

You’ve prepared, you’ve planned, you’ve sacrificed. There isn’t anything else you can do. All that’s left is the end. 

Steve sits next to you, his knuckles white as he grips the steering wheel. His forehead is creased and his shoulders are tense. The closer you get to the house, the more he draws into himself. 

When you finally get to the house, Erica, Lucas, and Max almost leave without saying anything else. While there are no more well wishes to give, no more luck to spare, you can’t bear the thought of leaving them without hearing their voices.

“Be careful,” you follow after them, exiting the RV as well. The three of them turn to you, bittersweet smiles on their faces. They knew you’d do this. 

“We will.” Lucas reassures you, refraining himself from reaching out. He knows that if he hugs you now, he may never let you go. Instead, he ducks his head at you. “We’ll see you later, alright?”

Blinking back tears, you nod back at him. The siblings walk away, leaving you alone with Max. A part of you wonders if they planned this. Stepping towards her, you try one last time to exchange her life for yours. 

“Can I at least ask you not to antagonize Vecna? If you try to persuade him to take you instead, I’m haunting your grave.” It’s a vile thing to say, a joke that you know you’ll come to regret, but it’s the only way you know to get Max to laugh one last time. 

Max does laugh, but she also doesn’t promise you anything. Instead, she exchanges her life for yours. “If he chooses you, remember to picture your good memories. Hide in them. Run to the light.” 

You nod, you’ve spoken briefly about her plan before. It makes sense, in a way. Instead of getting trapped in the bad memories Vecna shows you, you need to hide in the good. Except what Max says next hadn’t been discussed. 

“It’s what Billy tried to do with you. You were his light.” 

It catches you off guard, freezing your lungs. 

“His final words… they took me a while to understand. But I think I know now, and I don’t want you blaming yourself for any of it.” Max’s gaze softens. “You told Billy to find you, and that’s what he tried to do.”

But if you need anyone to talk to, about anything, come find me, okay?

Talking to you… sweetheart.

Like pieces of a puzzle, everything falls into place.

Unable to stop yourself, you throw your arms around Max. She tenses, and you almost release her with an apology, before she melts; she hugs you back. It’s been a long time since she’s done that.

“Billy was trying to find the light,” she whispers into your ear. “That’s how we’re going to survive.”

And you believe her.

-

⌑ series masterlist

⌑ i am no longer doing a taglist, my apologies ! however, please feel free to like, reblog, and comment instead :)

[lareinaa007]

save me steve harrington in the cut off sweater with red button detailed collar

[lareinaa007]

steve carrying his girls books for her because they're just far too heavy for her to be carrying, he insists on taking her book shopping and then after he loves getting to hold her stuff for her as they walk home, he loves listening to her tell him all about what book she's most excited to read first, he knows he's going to be getting little updates with every chapter she reads, steve just adores his book obsessed!girlfriend <3

[lareinaa007]

THIS HAS ME HOWLING PLDKSNSJSJSJ 😭😭

[lareinaa007]

I take full responsibility 😁

quick everybody tell @lareinaa007 to stop feeding all my hyper fixations!!!! please guys she wont stop and its all her fault that i have unhealthy amounts of obsessions towards men!!!! shes keeping me hostage!!!! quick guys help

[lareinaa007]

two dumb bitches telling each other ‘exactlyyy’

[lareinaa007]

Six of Crows: A Comic Adaptation

Part 1, Chapter 3

Pages 23–24

Previous Pages

Download the Chapter 2 Digital Copy

[lareinaa007]

valentines party!! ❤️‍🔥 can we get “what? i’m not allowed to look at you” with bf steve ? his gf a lil shy 🙈

luveline's valentine's mini party ♥︎

thank you for your request!! shy!fem!reader

You hadn't realised how much of having a boyfriend was eating food together in his car. You won't complain because it's quickly become one of your favourite things to do. You haunt Steve's passenger and he buys you dinner, no matter how often you try to take the bill. 

"Right, 'cause that's happening," he says. 

The hot paper bag burns your legs as Steve pulls into a parking lot. He parks, cranks down the windows, pushes his seat back, and turns up the radio. You search through the bag for his burger. 

"I should be allowed to pay, baby," you say softly, hoping your tone will change his mind. "It's not fair that you always pay... You're a feminist." 

He grabs his coke from the cup holder, chuckling to himself between sips. "I'm a feminist, but I also believe in spoiling my girl. I mean, look at you. Do you know how pretty you look right now, just to get burgers? I think I can manage the bill." 

You drop a wad of napkins into his lap before offering his burger and fries. He takes them, and he leans across the console to kiss you quick. It's a nice kiss, gentle and easy. 

"You can pay next time." 

You've heard that one before. Still, you say, "Thank you," and take out your own food. 

You're so glad Steve likes you. That he wants you. Moments like this, watching each other eat, listening to the radio and singing through mouthfuls of lettuce and tomato, letting him dip his fries in your milkshake, they mean the world to you. You hadn't known a guy like Steve existed before you met him. He's accepting. He thinks you're beautiful with lettuce on your chin. He wants to kiss your fingers fry grease and all, and it makes you feel like the prettiest girl on Earth. 

Somehow he manages to get your hand in his, though you're both still eating and one-handed is hard work. He rubs the back of your hand with his thumb, dropping his burger in his lap. 

"What?" he asks.

"What?" you ask back, averting your eyes. 

"Why were you looking at me like that?"

"What, I'm not allowed to look at you?" you ask, trying to pull your hand out of his. He gets a grip like super glue on you. 

You can hear his smile. "Don't get shy on me now, I want answers!" 

"I'm always shy on you," you say, pleading, "please don't, Stevie."

"You were giving me the googly eyes. I know that. You want another kiss, is that it? I might taste like sesame seeds, but I'll give you the kiss of your life if you look at me like that again." 

It's tempting but off putting at the same time. Of course you want the kiss of your life, but at the same time… 

"I don't think I'd survive it," you mumble. 

Steve bursts into laughter. It's completely golden. He laughs all the way up your arm, kissing from your knuckles to your t-shirt sleeve until you're squirming and pulling your shoulder to your cheek to hide from his ticklish kissing. 

"Your stubble's itching me," you say. 

"Sorry," he says sweetly. 

If there's one thing you know about your boy — he is not sorry. 

[lareinaa007]

Matthias: When I first met you, I thought you were a demon. Kaz: And? Matthias: And you are.

[lareinaa007]

matthias wrote this for nina u cannot change my mind

[lareinaa007]

This is real btw

Nicky is absolutely insane on valentines day. All plans are canceled so he can focus on you.

Roses. Everywhere.

Heart shaped everything.

Diamonds. Chocolate. Like 10 puppies in pink bows (rescued from a local shelter)

The two of you spend the day at home, as he showers you with gifts and compliments (he proposes as the sun starts to set. Its very romantic. You are already married)

[lareinaa007]

He would’ve said something like “you did it for only 20 kruge?? 🤨”

Kaz: Y/N, I need to talk to you about-

Y/N: In my defense, Jesper bet me twenty kruge I couldn't drink that whole bottle of shampoo.

Kaz: That's not what I wanted to... You drank shampoo?

[lareinaa007]

“Pest” 😭😭

Not the Morozova family calling Nikolai dog names LMAO😭