#along with the Trap fic again now that some time's opening up

[cheolism]

THE MONSTER IN THE CLOSET

✿ incubus!xu minghao x reader ❀ summary: there's nothing the demon in your closet loves more than when you fall asleep. inspiration from dpr ian's "don't go insane": that's when the lights turned on and you were just a lie. ✿ wc is approx. 2.5k ❀ genre: smut, incubus x reader ✿ warnings: an incubus is a demon that has sex with someone while they are sleeping. as such, be mindful that this fic has themes of dub-con and somnophilia; it is stated minghao cannot have sex with the reader unless they give consent, though they are still sleeping. possessiveness, jealousy, innocence kink, dark!minghao. fingering, body worship. if you do not like, do not read. ❀ rating: 18+. minors do not interact. ✿ note: cameos by seungcheol n ian ^^

he watches as you prepare for bed. you’re so cute about it; you’re wearing those fluffy pajama bottoms that warm your legs and trap heat between your thighs; your sleep shirt hangs loosely from your frame. you adjust your pillows and push back the blankets before climbing in, humming along to the song playing from your phone speakers. 

you straighten out the blankets and pull them back over you, fitting them snugly around your form. no matter -- he can fix that later. for an hour he waits, watching. you watch some video on your phone, giggling softly every few minutes, brushing your hair back away from your face. 

eventually, you set your alarm and push your phone to the corner of the bed. you stretch out, humming. then you pull up the blankets all the way to under your chin, concealing your body from him. again, no matter; that can be fixed. 

it’s one of those nights where you fall asleep quickly. he watches as your breathing evens out, watches as your body fully relaxes back into the sheets. your face smooths out, sinking into a beautiful sort of innocence that makes his heart hammer in his chest. 

you’re completely asleep

minghao moves from the closet, though he doesn’t press open the door and the floor doesn’t protest beneath his weight as he moves to your bed. he’s been in this apartment long enough that it’s accepted him as part of itself. it does not reveal him from behind the closet door, does not squeak beneath his bare feet as he walks. minghao is part of the apartment, now, just as it is him. 

if he has his way -- and he will -- you will follow suit. 

you’re cute, he thinks again. your jaw is slack from sleep, and every few minutes your lashes flutter like butterfly wings. he wonders what you’re dreaming about. 

minghao reaches, and -- there it is, there’s your dream. you’re running through a department store with someone he doesn’t know -- and again he reaches -- ah, a high school classmate you haven’t seen since graduation. minghao watches as you grab a stuffed elephant off of the shelf. it’s a vivid violet. you turn to talk to someone and this time it’s just a face your dreams have conjured up. you look back to your arms, but the stuffed elephant had somehow fallen from your grasp and onto the floor. you reach down and pick it up, squeezing it. 

how cute. 

minghao couldn’t help but chuckle. you were so adorable, so innocent. your daydreams, though out of his realm of control, are ones he often finds himself enamored in. your daydreams are filled with a quaint house with flower boxes underneath its windows, of a lawn with green grass and a bird feeder so you can watch the cardinals and sparrows.

the last one daydreamed about a penthouse apartment and gucci purses. they hadn’t been as simple as you, as innocent. they weren’t as delicious to take. 

minghao kneels onto the bed, the blankets shifting beneath him. you have the weighted blanket you got for christmas thrown over your duvet. his fingers twitch. minghao likes the weighted blanket just as much as he likes those fluffy pajama bottoms, likes how it traps heat, likes how drowsy it makes you, likes how much easier it makes it for him to take control. 

minghao settles on your thighs. he can’t see the shape of you due to the blankets, but it was fine. more often than not you end up stumbling into the bedroom half naked or, delightfully, entirely naked, and he can just get his fill of you then. 

he pushes his hands through the blankets. just as he had presumed, your body is warm. he doesn’t yet push through your pajama bottoms. instead, minghao takes his time. he runs his hands down along your arms, grabs your hands and pushes them up to be level with your shoulders. 

your dream shifts according to his touch. there’s a man, now -- minghao wrinkles his nose in disgust. you never dreamt of him, of course; you couldn’t see him. you never have seen him. you can’t dream of him because you have never seen him. he can influence your dreams, sure; can fuck your cunt and your dreams will follow suit. your dreams will respond to what’s happening to you, but because your eyes are shut and you’ll never ever see him, he’ll just have to deal with the fact that as he smooths his hands down over your arms that you imagine some tall and handsome man with thick dark brows and plump lips. 

he hovers, dropping his face in front of yours. he takes you in. he tries to remember the exact color of your eyes, tries to imagine what they would look like as he bears down on you. 

minghao hums, voice dark and deep. “how’s this feel, angel? hm?”

you sigh in your sleep. your lashes flutter. you turn your face, unknowingly, towards him. 

“this okay?” he trails his fingers down over your stomach. “this all okay, sweetheart?”

you hum, a slight noise. 

minghao huffs. “you have to be clear with me, angel. it’s been months of doing this -- you know what you have to do by now.”

your dream shifts. the man shifts. he’s broad and lean, tanned skin and black hair that hangs around his face. he’s covered in tattoos, from the base of his neck to the tips of his fingers. he’s pushing down against you, large hands running over your body. 

your dream self mirrors your real self. you arch up into minghao’s touch, another sigh leaving your lips. softly, like the kiss of an angel, you breathe out a sweet “yes”. 

his body hums, coming alive. he can feel adrenaline and power sink into him, can feel his cells and blood come alive and throb. you’ve given your consent for the night, given your consent to be his. 

which means he can take. 

minghao lets out a breathy moan, and then he’s tucking his face into your neck. your skin is warm and smells like your body soap. he moves his hands along your body. he brushes past your sleep shirt, feeling your tits. he cups each of them, holding their perfectly heavy weight in his hands. you’re so warm all over, and your tits are no exception; they’re slightly sweaty from the heat trapped by your shirt and blankets. minghao shifts your tits in his hands, fingers brushing against the soft skin of your under boob, relishing in the velvet feel, in the heat. 

some nights when you don’t want to fuck he just does this. just holds your tits, let their weight ground him. just pretends. pretends he wasn’t trapped to this bedroom, pretends your innocent, wide-eyed looks were for him and no one else. 

but you gave your consent, and so -- 

and so his hands eventually smooth down your torso. he lays along your body, just feeling. some nights you get impatient when he does this, when he feels you for ages before fucking you. tonight, however, you sigh and seem to bloom beneath his touch. 

his little flower, minghao thinks. his little precious angel, his sweet little flower. 

minghao moves his hands further and further down your body. your knees shift beneath the blankets, knocking against him. he reaches -- you are faintly aware of there being pressure in your cunt, aware of the want that thrums through your body and seems to electrify your cunt, despite being asleep. 

his hands press against the hem of your pajamas. minghao runs his hands along the furry fabric. in your dream the man is pressing between your legs, hands smoothing over your bare thighs. 

minghao pushes between your thighs. you move just enough for him to fit, but it’s tight. no matter. he likes it when you’re tight. 

he slides one of his hands between your thighs. fuck -- if it was warm beneath your tits it was practically a heavenly blaze here, heat trapped and that electricity in your cunt, that lust, bubbling out and into him. 

you shifted again, thighs squeezing tight around his hand. he can feel it when you clench them, knows you’re clenching your cunt to try and alleviate some of that pure want. 

“poor angel,” minghao murmurs, “filled with so much lust. so sweet and innocent, so fucking needy.”

he sinks his hand forward, and then his fingers are pressing through your pants and underwear and sliding between the lips of your cunt. you were absolutely soaked, drenched in your pussy juices. minghao wonders if you would be humiliated by how wet you are just from him touching you. 

minghao pushes his hand just so, two of his fingertips slipping into your cunt. immediately you’re clenching, hips grinding down and searching for more relief. 

minghao drops his head against your chest, muffling his laughter. no one has ever been as reactive to his touch as you. he loves it. he adores you. 

he moves his free hand to your cunt. he doesn’t move his fingers in your cunt, keeping them just barely in your hole. you’re getting desperate -- he can feel it, can feel the desperation begin to color your soul and your dream. but then he presses his thumb against your clit, against that slick little bundle of nerves, and your mouth is dropping open and a loud moan bubbles out of your throat. 

minghao laughs, not bothering in being quiet. you won’t wake up anyways. you’re so loud and needy despite this all being, to you, a dream, despite him not being something tangible to you. he wonders what you would be like if he could really touch you, wonders if you would scream and cry under his touch as easily as you moan and whimper now. 

for a few minutes he just watches, eyes greedily taking you in. in real life, on your bed, your hips shift minutely, not enough to fuck yourself on his hand but enough for your clit to slide against his finger. in your dream the man is teasing you, fingertips just barely fucking into your cunt, and you’re so desperate. 

it’s so sweet. you’re so sweet. minghao wishes he could just have a bite --

he slides his fingers into your cunt entirely. your pussy is warm and wet and even though he’s never stepped foot into heaven he knows it’s not as good as your cunt. you squeeze around his fingers and he wants, desires, lusts, yearns so much. 

your pussy walls are tight around his fingers, clenching down. he knows, instinctively, were your core is. minghao fucks into your cunt with his fingers, striking that spot every time, his thumb flicking against your clit in rhythm. 

and fuck, you’re so cute. you’re whining in your dream, whimpering; small moans escape your lips in real life. your thighs are tight around him, and your cunt begins squeezing down on his fingers so tightly that he can barely move them --

and he wants so badly for it to be his cock in your cunt. 

minghao withdraws his fingers, slides three back in. your head tosses against your pillow. in your dream you’re moaning loudly, high and keening. you’re so beautiful and perfect, lust coursing through your veins and seeping out your cunt and minghao feels high, feels your want seeping into his veins and power stirring in his gut. 

you give him power like no one else; you deserve a reward. 

minghao pushes your thigh up and over his shoulder, fingers pressing into your flesh. he presses his face against your pussy, breathing in. you smell so wonderful here, too. he just wants to bask in it, wants to keep his face here, against your pussy, for millennia. 

he doesn’t, though. eventually minghao runs his tongue up your cunt, from where his fingers are wedged in your pussy hole still to your clit. you shiver underneath him. in your dream you’re begging for the man, hands twisting in the sheets. 

it’s a curse, sometimes, he thinks. minghao thinks it’s a curse that he can see how you’re reacting to his ministrations in your dreams, can see how you whine and beg and cry. he can see how you would react to him. but he can also see how even though you’re asleep your body, your real body, the one that’s asleep, still responds to him, pleasure so great that even subconsciously you’re seeking him out. 

minghao sucks at your clit, tongue rubbing against it. you whine softly, head turning against your pillow once more. your whines are so cute, you’re so cute. 

he moves his fingers in and out, in and out, of your pussy as he sucks at your clit. you push against his face. he can feel your walls flutter around his fingers, he can feel, knows, how your orgasm is beginning to build and build. the desire in you is so thick that he can taste it, both literally and figuratively, and it seeps underneath his skin. 

minghao begins kissing your clit the same way he would kiss your mouth if he could. he mouths against your clit, runs his tongue over it and suckles. in your dream you’re becoming frantic; on the bed you’re desperately clenching around his fingers, trying to grind down, trying to reach it, trying to throw yourself off the cliff and fall into the ocean, trying to chase your orgasm. 

you’re so beautiful, minghao thinks. he wants you, he wants to so fucking much. he wanted you last night and wants you tonight and tomorrow night and every night for the rest of your fucking life, he wants to devour you and trap you, wants to feel your flesh in his hands and your pussy juices on his tongue for the rest of eternity, he fucking wants --

there’s a loud banging noise as one of the stupid neighbors drops something in the apartment above you. 

you flinch -- you, on the bed, flinch, and then you’re awake. 

minghao is flung from your dream. he can no longer touch you. he’s still thrumming with power, from the lust your body had given him, but he knows it’s not enough, knows that he’s still so fucking hungry for you. 

he wants to fucking kill those assholes in the apartment above you as you push back the blankets and toss your feet over the side of the bed. you’re frowning, and he watches as you tilt your hips downward and rut against the bed. 

“oh,” you say, blinking. minghao watches from the bed as you stand, going to your dresser. he knows what’s there -- knows the vibrant gel dildo you keep -- and he thinks for a split moment that this isn’t so bad, that he’ll at least get to watch you fuck yourself. 

but then you hum and move past the dresser and into the hall, where he can’t follow. 

and minghao seethes with rage at your orgasm being ripped from his hands. your lust gives him power and your orgasms even more so, and beyond that he just wants to see you cry as an orgasm comes over you. 

he stands up from the bed, bare feet against the cold floor. he walks back to the closet, sinking into the darkness. 

ah, well. he’ll just have to try tomorrow. 

[myfictionaldreams]

Hey, can you do something with where the reader is pregnant in mafia stucky and Bucky and Steve are super protective about her?

Xoxo

Our Little Bean // Mafia!Stucky x Fem!Reader

A/N: Thank you for your request, this has been requested quite a few times by many people so I hope you do enjoy!

Important note for readers: I'm currently working within maternity services within the UK so the pregnancy side of this is all based on a UK perspective but it's set in the US so apologies if anything is different over there. Also, the signs and symptoms are based on my bestie's pregnancy so thank you for letting me use these!

ALSO: I'm sorry if I don't do any more pregnancy/baby fics, I wanted to just do this one and return to the normal trio we had before.

Tags: 18+ readers only, unplanned pregnancy, fluff (LOTS!), comfort, soft steve/bucky, protectiveness, pregnancy kink, pet names, pregnancy symptoms discussed in detail, crying, family/domestic fluff, tooth-rotting goodness!

Words: 6.9k

my masterlist 📚 AO3 Link

Your nausea never seemed to settle, barely being able to keep down dry toast or sips of water and then there was the immense exhaustion, finding yourself to be lucky if you were awake for an hour before falling asleep again. This, paired with the dizzy spells and dull aches in your temples, it was safe to say that you were done with feeling unwell and you definitely blamed Sam Wilson for this. He’d turned up to work last week feeling unwell, slightly different symptoms to yours as he had a head cold but ill nonetheless and now, here you were, collapsed onto the couch in the living room, under a mount of blankets.

It wasn’t all bad however as Bucky had stayed home to look after you and he was doing a good job of it too, but he and Steve were always extra attentive when you were unwell and had been taking it in turns to stay home, with Steve having stayed with you yesterday.

Bucky today had helped you wash, changed into fresh pyjamas and then carried downstairs, tucking you into your little fort before sitting on the floor and reading the book you were halfway through reading. You were too tired to read and didn’t want to keep your eyes open so Bucky offered, which was hilarious to hear him trying to read along and then asking questions as to the type of books you’ve been reading.

“So who is this Rhysand guy? Just some hotshot king or something?” he asked, lowering the book to look at your resting face. You smiled tiredly at his question, opening one eye to look into his confused expression, he was already invested in your book, even though he had started more than halfway through.

“Something like that”, you replied, voice croaking from needing water which he was quick to notice, lifting the glass with the straw to your mouth and you hummed your thanks, taking a sip and closing your eye once more.

You fell back to sleep again and woke to be carried, noticing that it was dark outside with another day passing as Steve carried you up the stairs, having returned home from work. Your arms were trapped into the blanket cocooned you were being carried in so you nuzzled your face into his neck to let him know you were awake.

Steve tilted his head, kissing the top of yours as he placed you into the centre of your shared bed, “think you’re up for eating some chicken noodle soup?”

“Did you make it?”, your voice was full of hope as you blinked open your eyes to look up at him but made no attempt to move just yet.

“Of course, only the best for you”. Steve left to retrieve your soup, giving you time for another quick snooze, before he was back and shaking your shoulders. With his help, you untangled yourself from the soft blankets and attempted to sit up but were hit with a wave of dizziness, having to stop and close your eyes to get your bearings straight before it subsided and you could sit up properly. Steve was looking at you with a knowing glance as he sat on the edge of the bed, a warm noodle soup bowl in his lap that he began to spoon-feed you - something he insisted on. “You know I’m going to call the doctor, right?”

You release a frustrated huff, you didn’t need the doctor, “It’s fine though, it’ll pass. Sam said it took him 4 days before he started to feel better and I’m only on day 3”.

“Baby, you’re on day 4 and you said this all yesterday and it’s only getting worse”, he stated everything matter-of-factly but you were still shocked that you’d somehow missed an entire day. Maybe it wouldn’t hurt to see a doctor and there was no use arguing with Steve when it came to your health.

So after you’d finished half a bowl of the soup before feeling queasy, Steve excused himself to call his doctor who just so happened to be a close family friend. Of course, you had fallen asleep before the Doctor arrived and being rudely awakened made you feel even more groggy and unwell as Steve whispered, “Sorry honey, but Doctor Banner’s here to check you over”.

Steve excused himself so the Doctor could check you over properly without feeling pressured by the mafia boss in the room. Doctor Banner put you at ease though with his warming personality and you’d met him on a few occasions anyway when Steve or Bucky were more injured through an event with work, but you’d never had him look after you before.

The two of you ran through the general list, ‘When did you start feeling like this?’, ‘What are your symptoms?’, before he began doing your vital signs, temperature and blood pressure, all just normal procedures.

“Could you be pregnant?” he casually asked as he velcroed the blood pressure cuff from your arm.

Frowning you answered, “Um no…no, I’m on birth control, so I shouldn’t be”.

“Do you mind if we do a quick test just to tick it off of the list? All you need to do is pee in this cup and I’ll dip a test strip into it”.

You wobbled to the toilet on unsteady feet, realising this is probably the first time you’d properly walked in days because the boys insisted on carrying you everywhere. As you used the toilet, you didn’t think anything of the test, leaving the cup on the side for the doctor and returning back to bed, wondering if he’s going to give you some antibiotics or just see how you get on over the next few days.

After a few minutes, your eyes were closed but you could hear the Doctor returning so you asked, “So, do you think it’s just the flu like I said-”

“It’s not the flu, your test was positive”.

Your eyes snap open to look at him, sitting up and feeling dizzy but ignoring it, “what? What do you mean it’s positive?”

Doctor Bruce held up the little white strip that had two purple lines on it. You looked between the test and his face as he calmly smiled, “You’re pregnant”.

“What if the test is wrong? Can we do it again?” Thankfully he didn’t fight you on this and gave you the packet of tests, you grabbed two and stumbled back to the bathroom. Both strips gave the exact result and now it felt like your heart was coming out of your mouth it was pounding so hard and loudly in your ears.

“Take a deep breath for me”, Doctor Banner calmly instructed as he placed a steady hand on your back in case you needed extra support. You took a few deep breaths, not even realising that you had been holding your breath. Gripping onto the bathroom side, you began to feel dizzy again so he helped you back to bed waiting until you were settled before continuing.

“This explains your symptoms, I’d say you were in your early stages of pregnancy so we’ll book an appointment with the midwife tomorrow and sort out things like a scan. You may feel that your symptoms get worse over the next few weeks and if they do, you can always call me back but otherwise, stay rested and take it easy”.

You were only half listening. Midwife? Scans? Symptoms getting worse? There was so much for your brain to process. There was an actual baby inside of your body right now, a part of you and… who? Your anxiety was increasing with each second as you tried to let the words sink in as the Doctor packed his stuff away. Did you want to have a baby right now? You had always wanted kids but were you even ready at this stage of your life but then again… was anyone ready for a baby when they were accidentally knocked up?

Then the knocked-up by who question echoed through your thoughts. You obviously didn’t know if the baby was Steve's or Bucky’s, so would they be upset about this? If it was planned at least there could be some way you could arrange who to have sex with to know for sure but now… you were all in the dark about the paternity. You didn’t care if it was Steve or Bucky, you were always a trio in every sense of the word but now that this was your reality, would they be pissed off? And were they even ready for kids? The business took so much of their time and was still very dangerous but this was bound to happen eventually as you all wanted children.

Bucky and Steve had always been very open that they wanted kids, especially Bucky with his affection name for you being ‘mama’, he often would talk about his fantasy of seeing you barefoot and pregnant with his kid. So, at least you knew they were on the same page about wanting to have children but now it was the stress of is now the right time and who was the father of the baby?

You were vaguely aware of the Doctor bidding his farewells, “I’ll speak to you tomorrow and I’ll let you tell your partners the good news”. You offered a half-assed wave to him as he left, before staring at your hands in your lap, completely petrified for the next few minutes.

Steve and Bucky wandered in a few beats later, sitting on either side of you on the bed but you couldn’t look them in the eye, trying desperately to hold it together.

“Everything ok, Doll? The Doc didn’t tell us what was wrong, just said you would explain”, Bucky asked, stroking a finger down your arm to try and soothe you but it was enough to make you break.

You burst into tears, hiding your face in your hands.

“Honey? What is it? Talk to us”, Steve encouraged, attempting to pull your hands away from  your face but you held them there tightly so instead, he pulled your body into his lap, your legs over his thighs so that you could hide your face into his chest, the sobs building in intensity and everything was just so overwhelming. You were excited, scared, relieved but nervous, it was a lot to handle.

Steve and Bucky encouraged you to talk to them both, becoming more unsettled with your increasing hysterics. It took a few minutes to calm down, and it helped as Bucky held both your hands, rubbing circles into your skin and Steve wrapped his arms around your shoulders, holding you close to his body. You decided it was better to just tell them than keep it to yourself any longer.

With your face still pressed into Steve’s face, you whispered “I’m pregnant”, however, it was so muffled and quiet that neither man heard you.

“What was that sweetheart?”, Steve asked, trying to pull you away enough that both men could see your tear-stained face.

The words sounded strange coming from your mouth as you kept your head hanging lowly, mumbling, “I’m pregnant”.

You knew that they had heard this time by the way both completely froze, not even breathing as they processed the news. Bucky finally whispered, “What?”

You still couldn’t look at him, scared you’d see disappointment or anger in his eyes.

“Are you sure?” Steve asked in such a faint voice you were shocked it was even from him.

Nodding your head at his question you explained, “We checked a couple of times, he thinks I’m still in my early pregnancy but-ah!”

You jumped as Bucky all but tackled you and Steve, his lips kissing every part of your face that he could reach and when he pulled back enough to cup your cheeks, you took in the glowing grin on his face, his eyes twinkling with love as he shouted, “you’re pregnant! We’re having a baby!”

Steve then seemed to snap out of his initial shock and his arms tightened and lifted your body further up so he could kiss your face just as happily as Bucky before nuzzling into your neck, breathing you in, “I love you so much sweetheart, I can’t believe it! Wait, why were you crying, are you not excited?”

He relaxed his hold on you so that they could both see you properly and you had room to look at them both. “I... I am excited! I just wasn’t sure how you would both react as I don’t know which of you is the dad-”

Bucky leans across and kisses your lips quickly cutting off your sentence, the grin still broad across his face, “I don’t fucking care, if the baby has my genes or Steve’s, we’re all in this together, remember? That’s what we’ve agreed on”.

“So you aren’t upset?” you wanted to clarify.

“Fuck no hot mama… and you’re actually going to be a mama! This little bean is ours, all of ours!”

You were crying again with relief, “you really mean that?”

His eyes softened, kissing the corner of your mouth, “Of course I do”.

“We both mean it, I… I can’t believe it, I’ve always wanted to be a Dad”, Steve admitted, kissing your temple and as you looked up, you could see his eyes glistening with unshed tears which only made you smile and cry harder.

Steve made the move first, lowering his hand over your abdomen, resting over your stomach where there was no bump yet but knowing there was something growing inside you, he couldn’t help the relieved gasp. Bucky was quick to cover his hand and yours on the top so the three of you were feeling where the baby would be. “I can’t believe we’re going to be parents!”

The next few days were a whirlwind of excitement and unimaginable joy whilst also still feeling relatively unwell, especially feeling more exhausted as you wanted to buy every pregnancy book and read them all but soon fell asleep with it open in your lap.

Then there was Steve and Bucky who could not contain their excitement, going above and beyond for you, especially with you still feeling ill. They would cook and feed you, if you were too tired, refill your glasses of water, constantly ask if you were comfortable and more than happy to fetch another pillow if needed. Not only this, but their levels of affection had increased massively, whispering their love for you at any opportunity, holding your hands, and lots of kisses, it was so nice to feel this level of love when going through such a life-changing experience.

Both of them had been just as motivated to read about pregnancy, birth, babies, and the whole lot from A to Z, they researched everything that was possible and then gave you the rundown on what your bodily changes would be including what you couldn’t eat, vowing to not eat the same items until you could which you didn’t seem necessary but appreciated the gesture.

Then there was the excitement of going to the Midwife’s appointment and it all became so much more real again, especially being able to book the ultrasound scan. This was where you found out that you were 8 weeks and 3 days and the entire world seemed to pause around the three of you as you watched your baby's tiny heartbeat on the screen.

To say you all cried was an understatement, all of you not taking your eyes off of the scan picture that was provided, the little bean was so tiny, only just being able to tell the outline of its arms and legs. Now it felt official. You, Steve and Bucky were going to have a baby.

Many things changed including protection that increased tenfold. Security around your home doubled and you had not only Sam Wilson as your bodyguard but also Natasha. Not only this but if you attending the business or in public, Steve and Bucky would crowd around you, almost like a human shield, their overprotective instincts on overdrive, even from people who were just at the check-outs in stores. Sam and Natasha were confused by the sudden dynamic intensity and it was hard to keep it all a secret but you had all decided to wait just a little while longer and continue with your unknown illness excuse just until the baby had grown a little bit bigger.

This was something else that you had to get used to with adjusting to the many bodily changes you were going through to adapt to growing this baby. A few days following the scan, you’d come downstairs to Steve cooking you scrambled eggs which were your usual favourite breakfast but as soon as you smelt those cooking eggs, you were gagging and rushing to the toilet, throwing up violently.

Your eyes were watering as you finally stopped emptying your stomach but still gagging as you could smell the lingering eggs in the air. A warm hand rubbed circles over your back, Steve’s apologetic voice came from behind you, “Sorry, baby. No more eggs”.

This was the first instance of vomiting and it wasn’t just eggs, as every single day you would be throwing up and then feeling extremely tired afterwards that you weren’t able to do much throughout the day but be with your head in the toilet or lying in bed. The boys were almost glued to your side during this time, worried that you weren’t keeping enough food or drinks down and even had to call Doctor Banner back just to check you weren’t too dehydrated.

Thankfully you hadn’t needed to go into hospital as your vomiting subsided but the nausea remained for a while.

“You sure she’s ok? She’s looking a little peaky,” Sam commented to Steve one day as he came to help guard the house and was having his lunch with you all but he took one look at you and knew something wasn’t right, even as you forced the sandwich into your mouth, making sure to still eat for you and baby… not that Sam knew about the baby.

“Yeah, she’s fine Sam, thanks for checking though and we appreciate the extra hours you’re doing”, Steve responded with a thankful grip on his friend's shoulder.

“It’s no problem man, just worried for her that’s all, don’t really understand what’s going on with you all, especially with the extra security and whatnot and I feel like I’ve hardly spoken to her for a few weeks now. Just want you to know I’m always here if you ever need anything”.

You felt guilty when Steve later told you what Sam had said, feeling bad that you were keeping it secret but it was only for a few more weeks.

Luckily, you had found the special trick to help your nausea as suggested by a friend: lavender! After sitting with a bag of dried lavender for a couple of hours and not feeling nauseous, Steve and Bucky were quick to fill the entire house with lavender-scented items including candles and sprays, even having some in the car and it helped to settle your nausea massively.

But, as soon as one symptom passed, another would be replacing the uncomfortable feeling. The next was your breasts becoming incredibly painful and sore, even if you accidentally knocked them when putting on a bra or rolling over in your sleep, it was agony. Your boyfriends were even more careful with you during this phase, getting ice to hold against them during particularly painful moments and being careful to give you enough room when asleep.

A couple of weeks later was the first day you noticed the little bean kicking, at first it felt like maybe gas, almost like there were butterflies fluttering in your tummy but then you finally realised what it was. The feeling grew stronger with each day as well as the size of your growing stomach which was something Steve and Bucky were going absolutely feral for. They would take pictures each week to show your progression and would constantly be placing their hands on your stomach, even if the bump wasn’t that noticeable just yet.

The midwife recommended talking to the baby at one point so every night, you would sit with a shirt off and Steve and Bucky would lie on either side of you, taking it in turns to tell stories, sing their favourite songs and lay sweet kisses along the growing bump. One day, Bucky was telling the little bean about the time he and Steve snuck into a movie theatre when the skin under his cheek poked out as the baby kicked him in the face. Bucky sat up with excitement, it being the first time he had properly felt the baby move as he cooed, “there's our strong baby, good job little bean!”

“You hit the right dad as well”, Steve joked causing Bucky to smack him in the shoulder.

“Don’t listen to Dad, listen to Pops, I’m right here to make everything’s ok”, Bucky continued to speak sweetly to your stomach.

Your heart swelled at the difference in names that he had seemed to pick, “is that what you’d like to be called?” you asked them both, stroking a finger across each of their cheeks, feeling the stubble beneath.

“It’s perfect”, Steve beamed, kissing your stomach again.

Now it was your 20-week scan, Baby was so much bigger, you couldn’t believe the difference those weeks had made since the last scan. Now it was really starting to look like a baby with longer limbs and you were even able to find out the gender, however, you had wanted to wait to find out, liking the thought of it being announced at the birth.

With these beautiful new prints of the scans, you finally wanted to tell people, beginning with your closest friends.

It was a casual lunchtime meal at the office. You sat at the large table in between Steve and Bucky, with Sam and Natasha sitting opposite, all idly talking and eating the take-out that Steve had bought. However you had opted for a different meal: 4 packs of salt and vinegar chips and a tub of tomatoes - both were your latest cravings.

Sam eyed your food wearily, “Interesting mix you’ve got there, boss lady?”

Your only response was smiling with your cheeks full of tomatoes as Bucky placed his hand over your thigh. You knew he wanted to put his hand on your stomach but you hadn’t told either of the people across the table just yet and even though your bump was starting to become noticeable now, you were trying to hide it behind baggy shirts but even that was becoming difficult. You were in desperate need of some new trousers as well as the button was digging into your skin as you shifted uncomfortably, looking at each of your boys, feeling antsy with excitement as well.

“Can we tell them? I really need to take off my trousers, I’m feeling really claustrophobic”.

Sam frowned at your random sentence, confused by what you meant however it was Natasha’s reaction that sparked your interest as she smirked, leaning back in her chair with a tilt of the head. You looked at her with a gaped-open mouth, pointing your finger at her, “You already know! Who told her?” you asked, looking between Bucky and Steve.

“Wasn’t me”, they both responded at the same time, holding up their hands as you eyed them both suspiciously.

Natasha leaned forward in her chair, “did you really think that I wouldn’t notice? I’m offended Sugar, it’s in my job description to be observant. In fact, you should be asking if Sam is right to keep this job if he can’t notice something this obvious”, she teased the man sitting next to her who still looked just as confused as before.

You laugh at Sam’s reaction, looking to Steve who handed you the sealed cards. You happily took them, standing from your chair and feeling Bucky’s hand on your lower back to help and then walked around the table, giving them both a card each. It wasn’t anything special or elaborate, but it had a picture of the latest scan with the statement: “Update to your job title; bodyguard & uncle/auntie”.

You’d never heard the high-pitched tone from Sam ever before as he quickly stood, his chair squeaking across the floor as he shouted, “What?!” He turned to you, looking between you, the picture and Steve and Bucky, “Really?!”

You pulled the back of your shirt so the material was tight to your front, showing off your growing bump, grinning as he shouted “Congratulations!”, before pulling you into a huge hug, careful of your belly but rocking the two of you on the spot a few times and kissing your temple, “I can’t believe I’m going to be an uncle again!”

Sam was then pushed aside, giving room for Natasha, “Move it, Wilson, I want to meet my niece or nephew”, Sam didn’t mind being moved as he rushed around to embrace Steve and Bucky.

Natasha hugged you tightly, and you were able to ask, “How long have you known?”

“A couple of weeks, you aren’t as subtle as you think at hiding things. I mean, you’ve hardly been awake enough to have a conversation, this is the most lively I’ve seen you in nearly a month. And that's without the new obsessive protecting from Steve and Bucky, how they’re always touching you and the weird food you’re eating, it’s more noticeable than you think it is”. She pulls back to put her hands on your growing bump, “how many weeks are you?”

“20 weeks and 5 days, I can feel the little bean moving more with each day, I feel so big already and I’m not even showing that much considering I’m only halfway through my pregnancy”. Natasha grinned hearing this, looking at your little bump. “Now you both know, I can take off my pants without being judged”, you groaned as you undid your jeans button, utter relief when they were completely removed from your body and felt free, your shirt was long enough that it stopped mid-thigh so you weren’t too unmodest.

Bucky had snuck behind you, his arms wrapping around to rest on your stomach as he kissed your cheek. Natasha smiled watching the embrace as she remarked, “Guess you got what you wanted all along Barnes, now you can call her mama and she actually is one”.

“Mmm absolutely”, Bucky nuzzled into your neck, the sensation making you laugh as it tickled, turning to shy away from his attack but he only held you tighter until you melted into his arms.

Steve and Sam joined your little gathering and Sam jokingly asked, “So if the baby’s a boy, can we name him Sam?”

You were so thankful for the news being out, especially as this meant that you could go baby clothes shopping with Sam and Natasha, finding little outfits that you could surprise your boyfriends with. It was one of the only things you were able to do for them to show your appreciation as they did so much for you throughout your pregnancy.

Your cravings continued to become stronger with each day and often found yourself waking in the middle of the night to find something to quench the craving for something acidic and sour taste you needed so desperately it felt like your world was going to end if you didn’t eat it right then and there. On multiple occasions, Steve or Bucky would come downstairs in the early hours of the morning to find you sitting on the kitchen floor, your belly round and exposed, hating feeling material against your skin, and a scattering of different foods surrounding you, a happy smile on your face.

“You ok down there beautiful?” they would ask with grins that matched yours and with your heightened emotions you would be crying before long, reaching for them to come and sit with you which they would do eagerly, pulling your body in between there legs and kissing away your tears, “don’t cry pretty girl, I’ve got you”.

If you ever run out of your favourite cravings, they would drive to the store and you were buzzing to go along for the ride in the middle of the night, fully awake and ready for the night time adventure only to fall asleep before getting to the store.

Entering into the third trimester, your belly was round and heavy, things for sure were becoming more difficult for you as the little bean grew. There were small excitements still like attending antenatal classes with your boyfriends who were taking their role as dad and pops  very seriously, you’d never seen them concentrate so hard before.

“You’re doing the boss face again”, you whispered to Steve as he correctly wrapped the baby doll in a blanket. Steve's features softened immediately as he sheepishly looked at you from the corner of his eye.

“I’m just trying to concentrate”, he mumbled, eyes returning to looking at the doll, his fingers trembling slightly as he continued wrapping steadily.

Reaching across you grabbed his hands, keeping your voice low to keep the conversation between the two of you, “I’m scared too, but you’re going to be a great dad, Steve, you’ll be ok”.

This was a little pep talk you needed to have with both Bucky and Steve on numerous occasions as they began panicking that this was actually happening and whilst you reminded them there was nothing they could do to take back the growing baby in your belly, it was ok to have nerves, but everything would come to them with time, they needed to stay strong, especially as you were also sort of beginning to lose it.

Your body was really changing to accommodate the growing little bean. Your hands and feet were swollen until your shoes couldn’t fit anymore and god…the heartburn was excruciating, and nearly as painful as the kicks to the ribs. There was never a moment where you weren’t out of breath, even standing to pour cereal into a bowl took all of your energy and you’d be sighing in relief as you sat down. Your hips hurt, your back was in agony, and the pregnancy fun had well and truly finished.

This was where the boys really shined through as they would massage your hands and feet, they would be more then happy to cook or grab anything for you, picking things off of the ground, finding clothes that might fit and then there were their compliments which was one thing keeping you going.

Steve and Bucky could not get enough of seeing you pregnant, “you’re glowing honey, pregnancy suits you so much, my love”. You never felt like you were glowing and would describe yourself instead as a huge, hungry, tired monster but the way the boys looked at you, put those negative thoughts to the back of your mind.

From the moment you woke up to the second sleep would invade your consciousness, they would remind you of their love, needing you to fully comprehend how much they appreciated you growing their baby, you were doing so much for them, putting your body through it, for all of you, for the little bean.

Their words definitely helped when you began to feel needier in more than one way as your hormones caused your arousal to be one-minute non-existence and the next feeling nearly overwhelmed with how badly you needed to touch them and be touched. Thankfully with how obsessed they were with you during your pregnancy, they were more than happy to deliver. Hands would be all over, their lips leaving words of affirmation against your warm skin, being careful not to be to rough and more than happy if you wanted to take control and do whatever you wanted to them.

You had to be honest and say you never felt more loved up before. Even with the gang still in full operation, they were able to look after you as their number one priority, even through your emotional breakdowns, or weird pregnancy habits that had you thinking you were slightly insane but they never judged once.

For example, towards the end of your pregnancy, you had a completely immense craving to chew on your bath sponge every time you sat in the large bathtub. So when one day Steve walked in with a freshly warmed-up towel and caught you mid-chew with staring eyes, you expected his reaction to being anything but a soft smile, “You having fun in there, baby?”

Pulling the sponge out of your mouth slowly you nervously answered, “I uh… I don’t really know how to explain…”

Steve held up a hand, “You don’t have to explain anything, whatever makes you happy and I think I’ve read in a book that sometimes pregnant women can have cravings like this, whatever makes you happy”.

As your due date closened, you sat in the centre of the large bed, watching Bucky shuffle his way through your clothes, trying to find the right things to pack for your hospital bag. “What about this?” he asked, holding up a pair of your normal jeans.

“They haven’t fit me in four months, Bucky”, you laughed, shaking your head. “I need pyjamas or baggy shirts, things that can be easily taken on and off, maybe you should just leave Steve to do it”, you suggested whilst holding out your arms.

Bucky shrugged, dropping the jeans and jumping onto the bed, making you squeal with the bed moving up and down before he had his hands against your bump, kissing the tip of your nose. “Not long until we meet you little bean”, he was rewarded with a kick against his metal palm that had you wincing. “Hello baby, I love feeling you kick so much but be gentle to Mama she’s doing such a good job with keeping you safe”, he leaned down to kiss your belly as your fingers delved into his hair.

“It’s ready!”, Steve shouted from another room, catching both of your attention. Bucky jumped up first and then helped you to stand, keeping his hand on your lower back as you wobbled to the spare room that Steve and Bucky had been decorating as the nursery. It was something you had left them in charge of organising, not having the energy over the last nine months to even think about decorating and Steve and Bucky were more than excited to take on the job and so far had kept it secret from your prying eyes.

As you looked around the room, tears swelled in your eyes instantly, reaching to hold onto Steve and Bucky, praising, “It’s perfect!”. There was a beautiful baby cot, pictures of the three of you surrounding the ultrasound scan photograph on the wall, a painting you knew Steve had done, and a rocking chair in the corner that Bucky had claimed as his for the night feeds he’d volunteered himself for.

Now it was all just a waiting game.

“You’re doing it again”, Bucky commented from where he stood in the entryway to your home having returned from the office a few days later.

“No, I’m not, I’m just cleaning-”.

“Nesting… You’re nesting, Doll”, Bucky reminded you, taking away the cloth from your hands and throwing it to the side so he could hold your shoulders and kiss your temple. “Go and rest, you’ve only got a few days left!”

You roll your eyes as you leaned into his warmth, your bump touching him first as you hugged around his chest, “Bucky most babies aren’t born on their due dates you know, I just want to make sure everything is perfect around the house and ready”.

“Everything IS perfect, please just rest”. You relented to him, feeling tired already from the ten minutes of standing, moving to sit on the couch when a period cramp suddenly began in your lower abdomen, causing you to scrunch your face up in pain, especially as it was followed by a large kick to the ribs.

“Woah, are you ok?” Bucky asked, his hand cupping your cheek.

“Yeah, probably Braxton hicks or something, it’s fine”, you say, finally sitting down and putting your feet on the small table. Bucky didn’t seem convinced and continued to be a mother hen throughout the rest of the night, even though the pains subsided after you had a nice warm bath.

As your due date came and went, you were becoming restless, needing the baby out, feeling overwhelmed with how big you felt, wanting to meet the baby and hating waiting around. It wasn’t like you hadn’t tried everything either. Eating spicy foods, and going for walks, especially up and down the stairs which was incredibly uncomfortable with how low the little bean’s head was sitting in your pelvis. You’d even had sex a few times, Bucky was more than happy to hear that nipple stimulation could induce labour but still, nothing happened.

Those period cramps would come and go throughout these days as well, getting your hopes up before they disappeared and still, no signs that your labour was even happening. 

On the fourth day following your due date, you awoke suddenly in the middle of the night to another period cramp that started in your lower back and spread around to your front. Even though this felt different,  you didn’t want to wake the boys and get theirs or your hopes up as you tried to slide out of bed without waking them to use the bathroom for what felt like the tenth time that night.

“You ok, baby?” Steve asked, his eyes still closed but his hand reached for you in the darkness.

“Yeah I’m, ok, go back to sleep Steve”, you encouraged, touching the back of his hand before pushing yourself up and waddling to the toilet, using it and then realising just how wide awake you were and the dull ache of the pains still lingered so you decided to run a warm bath. During the time that it was filling up, you had another pain which took longer to subside but this was always how it started with the intensity increasing but after the bath, it usually stopped. 

However, even as you let the warm water settle over your body, easing your muscles but the pains continued but at least the little bean was lovely and happy as he or she gave you a powerful kick to your ribs. The next pain had you gritting your teeth, eyes clenching closed as you held onto the side of the tub, waiting for it to pass but this pain lasted for nearly a full minute, and you decided maybe it was time to take some pain relief.

Standing and awkwardly climbing out of the bath, you dried your body and picked up your night dress to pull over your head when another pain came and took your breath away, your stomach hardening and causing you to moan lowly, bending over to blow the pain away.

“Honey?” Steve shouted from the bathroom having heard your moan as he waited for you to come back to bed. You couldn’t answer him as the pain consumed you, and he was rushing to be by your side, Bucky following closely behind him. Steve rubbed your back slowly as your pain finally began to ease so that you could look up at them both.

“Wow, that one was strong”.

“You ok? Can we get you anything?” Bucky asked, stepping forward with worry etched on his face.

“I’m ok.... I think… I don’t want to get my hopes up that this isn’t contractions but fuck, it hurt like hell”, you muttered, bending over to pick up your dress from the floor and then a trickle of clear liquid dripped down the inside of your leg. All three of you noticed as you tentatively looked up, “Is it bad that I can’t tell if I’ve just wet myself or if that’s my waters…”.

Neither of your worried boyfriends had time to answer as another painful wave came and had you doubling over, leaning your head against the sink. Steve was quick to grab you and let you lean against his strong body, remembering what he had learned from the antenatal appointments to help you through the pains, “That’s it baby, breath in and out, nice and slow”. It helped to listen and ground yourself through the pain as Bucky’s cold metal hand rubbed against your lower back, helping to ease the intense pressure from the baby.

The pain lasted for the same amount of time as the previous one and the clear liquid, which was definitely not urine, had gushed out more, forming a small puddle onto the floor. “Ok, I think it’s time we call someone”, you decided.

Bucky kissed the back of your head as he ran to get the phone and Steve helped you to pull your shirt on, his thumb brushing your chin as he sensed your anxieties, “You’re going to do amazing my love, we’ll be with you every step of the way”.

[spiderlyla]

headcannon of asking miguel to help you make your ass fatter at the gym??!? bro is all over that

turned this into a fic LMAO hope you enjoy (gn!reader)

"You want to what?

Miguel grunts, carefully setting the weight rod back in it's slot after he almost dropped it onto his chest upon hearing your request. He flicked off the sweat on his forehead, eyes glancing up to see you smiling ever so sweetly at him.

"You heard me," Getting sassy with him now, aren't you? You crossed your arms, grinning. "I want to make my ass bigger, figured you'd know how to help me."

He sat up, placing his hands on your each sides of your hips, still utterly and completely baffled. "No, I heard that, but I don't get it." You wrapped your arms around his tense shoulders, massaging them slowly. "Tu trasero se ve bien." [Your ass looks great.]

"Of course, you think so. But I already made up my mind, so are you going to help me or should I open a tutorial to follow?"

He groaned, mulling it over in his head before nodding. "Okay, okay, I'll help." Excitedly, you placed a kiss to his forehead, pulling him up to his feet.

His reluctance was not out of laziness, he loves it when you ask him for help working out, but this was going to be the end of him.

"Is it suppose to feel this uncomfortable?" It was your first exercise and you were already pouting up at him. Miguel adjusted your hands on the rod, then moved to check your posture.

He told you the first exercise should be a little more easier than this, but you insisted on trying the squat rack, saying you could take it. "Your posture is all wrong. Arch your back a bit, baby." He placed his hand on the small of your back, trying to push you forward a little. You moved just a little, letting out a pained groan, "It feels worse."

"Honey, that's because you didn't move." He makes his way behind you, pushing you forward until you finally let out an exhale of relief. "Now you can move. Just very slowly, okay? Make sure your grip is tight around the rod." Miguel didn't have time to move, he found himself trapped behind you, as you squatted ever so slowly, brushing against him with each movement.

He stood stunned, breath hitched in his throat, lips pursed, hands beside him as he stood awkwardly behind you.

"Am I doing this right?" Your ever so innocent question bursts his bubble, and he lets out a small hum of approval. "Yeah, just..." He placed his hands on each side of your hips, pulling you towards him. You squatted again, this time very aware that you're brushing against him. He could feel blood rushing between his legs, every time the curve of your ass came in contact with him. Miguel almost choked up on his groans, "Yeah, just like that..."

"You seem out of breath, Mig. You wanna sit down?" You're teasing him, he can tell. Was this your plan all along, to get him groaning and squirming in place like some horny teenager?

"No, I'm fine—Aye, por el amor de Dios, me estás volviendo loco." Very reluctantly, he moved back to his original spot. He watched from the sidelines as you went up and down, struggling with the weights a bit after a few squats. "That's enough for now, cariño, or else you'll get a cramp. Let's try something else." He stepped infront of you, easily removing the weight from your hands and setting it down.

Miguel led you over to a mat, his hand never parting from your waist. "Here. Get on all fours."

"Kinky."

"Amor, por favor."

Your giggles made him drop the tough exterior he was trying to maintain. "Prop yourself up, and kick back with your right leg 5 times, then your left 5 times."

Simple as that, right? Wrong. He knew how smart you are, so for you to mess this up was deliberate, then again, those innocent stares you were giving him were really throwing him off. He spent the next ten minutes trying to guide you, but you only seemed to get it right when he kneeled beside you.

"Honey, don't open your legs, just—" One of his calloused hands rested on the back of your thigh, while other was shamlessly on your ass. That seemed to seize your movments completely. He gave you a gentle squeeze, beckoning you to move, but you let out a small squeak. "Focus, hm?"

Now you got it right. Once he made sure you were doing it correctly, he stood up, yet his eyes stayed on your form, watching you intently as you huffed and puffed. "Someone's tired already? You've done this 20 times total now."

"Maybe we should take a break, Mig."

"I thought you have a goal here, don't you?"

You stopped the exercise and laid on your back, smiling up at him. "Mhm, but I am tired, and it seems like my coach is distracted too, so maybe we should both take a moment."

He raised his brows, unimpressed, yet his flushed cheeks exposed him. He spread an arm to help you up, only for you to tug him down, making him lose his balance and fall ontop of you. His knee separated your thighs, while his arms held him up, entrapping you. "Did you actually want to work out, or did you just want my attention?" He asked, a wide grin replacing his usual pout. You wrap your arms around his neck, smiling. "A bit of both. I'd be lying if I said I wasn't hoping we'd end up where we are right now." He laughs, brushing his nose against yours, tufts of his hair tickling your forehead. "All you had to do was ask, didn't need to put me through all that."

"I love teasing you."

"Oh, that I can tell." His lips press against yours in a heated kiss. Miguel's hands wrap around your waist, pulling you on top to straddle him. His hands roam further down, on your rear.

Then he gives you a strong squeeze. You squeal, breaking the kiss to glare at him. He only grins back up at you, cupping your cheeks.

"Well, it's definitely firmer."

[flowwsblog]

You’re so warm—

a/n; I’m new to the community soo please don’t be too harsh on me 😭😭 (But I need the feedback anyways). Also this fic is going to be pretty long for my first, (it being in two parts lol) but enjoy!!

Timothee!Willy wonka x f!Reader

Summary: in which reader has trouble falling asleep and runs into a certain someone. What could happen?

Warnings: pure fluff 😊

You had been working at the ‘laundry covered prison’- as you and noodle had called it- for a couple years now.

You had gotten there same as everyone, looking for a cheepy place to stay in this economy; and failed to read the fine print. So there was obviously something suspicious going on.

Worse led to worse as Mrs. Scrubbit had enslaved you (which is how you saw it) and forced you to do laundry work. Along with all the other fellow workers/people trapped in the dusty basement.

You befriended each one of them as time went by, not having any other choice. But being the second youngest one there; noodle was the first one you immediately grew close too.

And one day while scrubbing some old laundry, you heard a yell. Well everyone did.

Everyone’s attention shot towards the clothing shute, where a lanky, frightened looking young man had been thrown down.

____________

Ever since that day, your life couldn’t have been more interesting. The man, whose name you learned was Willy Wonka, was the most amazing human you had ever met. He was a magician, chocolatier, and humungous dreamer. What better man to sweep you off your feet?

But welcoming a handsome new guest meant bunking with someone else. Mrs. Scrubbit did not want the fuss of fixing up a new bedroom, leading to Mr. Wonka inhabiting your old room.

You loved noodle, she was like a little sister to you, so you did not complain in the slightest to sharing a room with her.

_____________

One night, you couldn’t sleep. You grabbed a thin blanket and wrapped it around your lightly trembling body. You made sure noodle was wrapped sorta-snug in the worn out bed before descending from the room.

Your thin loafers tapped the cold wooden floor lightly, wandering down the hall to the bathroom. As you walked by a certain door, your steps faltered, but soon continuing its journey to the wash room.

You and wonka has become close friends, similar to the friendship of yours and noodles, but being closer age wise made things different. You hadn’t talked to a boy your age since grade school, so having a male presence now made you exceedingly nervous.

Upon becoming comfortable with Willy, his presence had started to take a toll on you. Butterflies erupting when he would get particularly close. Or breath faltering when he would just, be in the room? You were confused. Maybe it was his shiny, chocolate colored curls or his full green eyes that lured you towards him. But whatever it was, you were hooked.

You closed the door and turned on the light, eyes squinting from the brightness; your handing coming up to shield them.

You turned on the sink and splashed water on your face. The water being cold not helping. You just wiped your face and turned off the light; heading out. This trip definitely helped.

As you opened the door you see another door opening. Expecting noodle’s small body to come out and ask why you left. Instead you get a taller, handsomer is that a word, man leaving his room. Rubbing his eyes softly.

You sigh, ‘What great timing!’, You think sarcastically to yourself. You carefully approach him and smile.

“Hi y/n” he hums with a sleepy smile. Which makes your stomach flutter. “What ya’ doin up so late?”

“Oh nothing, I can’t sleep. And you?” You turn to face him, studying his defined cheekbones and messy curls. Beautifully misplaced from sleep.

“Hm, I heard something and thought it was the little orange man coming to steal my chocolate again. But I’m glad it was you.” Your face grew 10 shades of pink at the comment. God, if he knew how he made you feel you would be in such trouble, or worse, jail. You’re glad it was dark or else he would’ve seen your embarrassing reaction. You smiled nonetheless. “Thank you Mr. Wonka”

He smiled at the name, knowing he prefers being called Willy.

“Well I’m gonna get going to my room, it’s cold out here.” You let out a half hearted chuckle and turned to leave, wanting him to stop you so badly. “Good night wil-“

He grabbed your arm gently, as if he was broken from a trance. “Wait y/n.”

You turned your head, letting out a breath you didn’t even know you were holding. “Yes?”

_______________

a/n; that’s part 1 guys 🙏🏼🙏🏼

I already have an idea in which part 2 will be posted so stay tuned! It’ll be soon :) 👐 thank you for reading!! Don’t forget to leave notes💞

[jobean12-blog]

Collide

Pairing: Javier Peña x female reader (sorta enemies to lovers)

Word Count: 2,283

Summary: You and Javi have been working together for a while and have a volatile relationship...until something finally gives.

Author's Note: Since I can't seem to get his man off my mind here's my second Javi fic. He's so sexy I can barely manage. Thank you to my lovely friends @lizette50 and @tripletstephaniescp for always feeding my Pedro obsession so well! Thank you all so much for reading! Much love always! ❤️❤️❤️Divider by the lovely Daisy @firefly-graphics thank you!🥰

Warnings: some tension, sassiness, flirting, but lots of softness too, Javi is super sexy because duh

Pedro Pascal Masterlist

When the phone rings for the fourth time you stomp your heels on the ground and push back from your desk with an exasperated huff.

“What the hell is he…?” you mutter as you look down at the screen and see Steve’s number. Again.

You push the door to Javi’s office open without a knock and fold your arms across your chest.

“Want to answer the phone some time today?”

Javi looks up from the open drawer of his filing cabinet and narrows his eyes.

“I’m busy.”

When he dismisses you with the drop of his head, refocusing on his papers, you growl out a curse.

“Don’t you dare…”

Your threat is cut off when the phone in his office rings. He looks up and gives you a warning glare, daring you to answer it.

You throw him a fake saccharine smile and start to turn around, only to spin back toward his desk and rush for the phone when he’s no longer looking.

His low “fuck,” is all your hear before you grab the receiver and pick up with a friendly, “hello, this is the office of Javier Pena, how many I help you.”

Javi crowds you against his desk, his hard chest pressed to yours and his breath warm against your cheek as he exhales.

You swallow hard but square your shoulders and focus on the call.

“Oh sure Steve, he’s right here…mm hmm.”

You keep your eyes on his, refusing to back down even as your own body betrays you and you lean closer.

Javi rests his hands along the edge of the desk on either side of you and dips his head until his lips brush the shell of your ear, his whisper deep and low. “I said I was busy.”

Thankful that he can’t see your face you drag your teeth over your bottom lip before gathering yourself again to chirp into the phone, “oh he’s not busy at all, one second.”

You cover the mouthpiece and smile. “It’s Steve. He’s been trying to reach you all afternoon.” Your tone is dripping with fake sugariness.

Javi just stares, his dark eyes sweeping over your face until they land on your lips and linger.

He scoffs and wraps his hand around the handset, covering yours with his calloused but warm skin.

“What?” he says into the phone as he keeps you trapped against the desk.

You pull your hand free of the phone and flatten your palms against his chest with a push.  

He doesn’t budge, his gaze still locked on yours.

“Move,” you grit out under your breath and give him another shove.

He takes a slow step backward, just enough to let you brush past him and as you do your scent fills the air and he inhales deeply, his eyes fluttering closed.

Even as you walk out of his office you feel the persistent heat of him still close and your traitorous body trembles.

“Fuck,” he mutters.

“What was that?” Steve asks through the phone.

“What…nothing. Fuck.”

Steve sighs on the other end and Javi pinches the bridge of his nose.

“What do you want Steve?”

“Man she really riles you up huh?” Steve teases.

“Who…what?” Javi stammers, now rubbing his temple. “Just tell me why you called four times.”

You’re typing something up when the door to Javi’s office opens with a slam. He steps out with his tie hanging haphazardly around his neck and his jacket thrown over one shoulder.

“I’ll be gone for the rest of the day,” he says indifferently as he walks by. “You can leave all my messages on the desk.

“You’re tie is completely crooked,” you spit back at him.

He stops a few feet from you and looks down and you take the opportunity to get a good look at his ass. It makes you angry that he’s so attractive and that you’re so attracted to him and when he turns your way you have a scowl on your face.

“Didn’t know that was such a problem for you,” he says as he drops his jacket on a nearby desk chair and starts to fiddle with his tie.

You watch as he struggles with the material and clearly grows more frustrated with each passing second.

With a roll of your eyes you stand and step into his space, smacking away his hands until he drops them with a sigh.

“Can’t answer the phone…” you start, “can’t even tie your own tie…what are you going to have me do next Javi?”

As you’re rattling off his shortcomings your fingers are deftly working the fabric until it’s perfectly secure around his neck.

Your last question has him suck in an audible breath and when you meet his eyes they are intense with unspoken promise.

You tighten his tie with an abrupt push and then release him. You barely catch his “thanks” as he practically runs out of the building.

After packing up your things and heading to your car you decide to take a detour before going home. It’s been a long day and a bite to eat and maybe a drink at the nearby bar will do you some good.

It’s still early enough that when you walk into the dimly lit space there are a lot of open stools at the bar. You park yourself at the far end check out the daily specials.

It isn’t until you’re about to take the first sip of your drink that you feel the weight of his gaze. You make a subtle turn and meet the familiar dark brown eyes of Javi.

He blatantly stares, his lips hovering just above the rim of the glass of amber liquid dangling from his hand.

Your eyes shift to Steve who gives you a head tilt and a smile. You return it before looking back at Javi.

You had no idea they’d be here and they’re most likely working a case so rather than expose them or yourself you turn your attention back to the bar.

The feel of his eyes endures and even though you can’t see him you can still feel the way his body pressed against you as he held you by his desk. The way he smelled. The feel of his skin on yours. It sends a shiver down your spine even as your body heats up.

A group of young men enter the bar in a cacophony of loud voices and scuffling feet. They find a space in the middle of the bar and you study them out of the corner of your eye.

It doesn’t take long for one of them to notice you and send you a flirty smile. You quickly turn away, uninterested.

Before your food comes out you decide to take a bathroom break and slide off the stool and move toward the darkened hallway.

The same guy from before catches your eye and blatantly watches as you walk by, making some inaudible comment to his friend.

You quickly glance at Javi to see his jaw set tightly and his knuckles white as he grips his glass, his own eyes following your every move.

As you disappear around the corner you don’t even hear the footsteps and when you’re whirled around and backed into the wall you almost let out a scream of terror but a familiar hand covers your mouth.

When your eyes meet his you deflate and grab his wrist, pulling his hand away.

“Javi,” you whisper shout, your eyes flashing angrily. “You scared the shit out of me.”

“You need to leave,” he says.

Stealing yourself you stand up straighter and square your shoulders.

“No. I don’t. I don’t have to do anything,” you argue.

“Angel,” Javi pleads, the term of endearment melting your fury instantly. “Please.”

“I was about to have my dinner,” you explain weakly. “Why don’t you want me here.”

Your eyes fall to the ground.

You know why but you want to hear him say it. You want him to tell you it’s because you’re not safe and he wants to protect you.

His fingers touch the soft skin of your jaw, guiding your chin up and your eyes back to his. The calloused pad of his thumb brushes back and forth as his mouth opens to speak.

But footsteps along the creaky floor alert you that someone’s coming and Javi’s body tenses, his eyes filling with worry for a split second before he kisses you.

It isn’t a soft and sweet kiss. No more gentle caresses, no slow tasting. He kisses you like he’s done it a hundred times before and you’re his to kiss.

Your hands reflectively lift to his chest, and for a second he thinks you might push him away, but instead, your hands curl around his tie and you pull him closer, holding him in place.

His head angles to taste more of you, needing more, and he nips your bottom lip when you don’t give in. Your surprised gasp is all the advantage he needs to slip his tongue inside your mouth.

You melt for him, meeting his intensity without restraint. He pushes you harder against the unyielding wall and your arms slide up and around his neck. He rocks his hips and you moan into his mouth.

He swallows the sound, desperate to hear it again and again.

“Ahem,” a too-close voice says.

Steve.

You startle and Javi jumps, your mouth leaving his as you follow the sound.

“Sorry to break up the party,” Steve smirks. “But we need to move.”

“How long were you standing there watching,” Jave grits out, giving Steve a thunderous glare.

Steve’s hands lift in surrender. “I just got here. Those first footsteps you heard were from one of the targets. Looked like they were going to follow her back here but you beat him to it. Thankfully. Good cover too.”

At Steve’s last added words your face heats and you press your fingers to your swollen and tingling lips.

Javi nods. A simple agreement and dismissal. Steve nods back at Javi then smiles warmly at you before he turns on his heels and heads back.

“You need to leave,” Javi says again, his hand now resting along the wall by the side of your head.

“That’s it? I’m just supposed to leave?” you counter, unable to quell your sassiness when it comes to him.

He sighs dramatically. “Angel…you heard Steve. Just go. He’ll will make sure you get to your car safely.”

You study his face, tracing his features with your eyes and unable to resist the feel of his skin even in your disappointment at his obvious disregard. You lean in and press your lips to the corner of his mouth, the brush of his mustache making you tingle all over.

With that you slip from his hold, keeping your head high as you walk away and go to grab your things, thankful when Steve subtly acknowledges you and makes sure you get safely to your car.

The next morning Javi doesn’t leave his office at all and you sit just outside and stew, replaying every moment of the kiss. When lunch time comes and goes you can’t take it anymore and knock hard on his door.

“Yeah,” you hear from the other side before you push it open and find him seated at his desk, his forehead creased in thought.

“You missed lunch,” you state.

He grunts in acknowledgment and goes back to his papers.

Your hands land on your hips and you step into his office, slamming the door shut.

“So that’s it?”

“What?” he answers.

“You’re just going to pretend like it didn’t happen?”

“Like what didn’t happen?” he shoots back.

“Don’t you dare!” you shout and point a finger at him. “Was it really all just a cover?”

He stands with such force that his chair flies backward and hits the wall with a thud.

Instead of answering he let’s out a frustrated grunt and runs a hand through his already mussed hair.

Somehow it looks better than before and you inwardly curse him out for being so sexy.

“What?” he says as you continue to stare.

You inhale sharply, holding his gaze while you hold your breath.

With unsteady steps you move forward until your close enough to smell him.

“I want you to look me in the eye and tell me that kiss didn’t mean anything to you.”

At your challenging words he clamps his mouth shut. But his eyes say everything and before the moment is gone you reach up and trace your fingers over the fresh cut above his eyebrow.

The feeling of your fingers on his skin makes him exhale softly.

“It’s fine,” he whispers.

“It looks like it hurts. What happened last night?”

“Nothing for you to worry about angel.”

“I’m sorry if I made any trouble for you…”

Your voice trails off, and you look up at him with questioning eyes. Wordlessly you slide your fingertips down the line of his jaw and he leans into your touch.

He turns into your hand and presses a gentle kiss to your palm.

Your name falls from his lips, more of a sound than a word, a rough growl deep in his throat. He looks as if he wants to say more but with one swift movement he has you pressed against the edge of his desk, caging you in with his arms and either side.

You gasp and he captures the sound with a kiss. And not just any kiss. A kiss that steals the breath from your lungs. A kiss that rivals the one from last night. Fiery. Desperate. And very, very real.

@lorilane33 @hiddles-rose @kmc1989 @littleseasiren @blackwidownat2814

[sattlersquarry]

the great divide (steve harrington x fem!reader)

Summary: (Post Season 4 AU, the sequel to orange juice) After your miraculous return to the land of the living, you aren't doing well.

Word Count: ~12k

Warnings: 18+ PLEASE!!!! for language, anxiety, depression, and suicidal ideation. The reader has panic attacks and intrusive thoughts about Not Wanting To Be Alive. If that will be triggering for you please don't read this (read my happier bloom series instead). there's also an allusion to a relapse, slut-shaming, and allusions to sex (although there's no smut, it just gets slightly steamy). this fic is angst + hurt/comfort with an optimistic ending. inspired by noah kahan's music (including this amazing demo on instagram).

a/n: please let me know if i missed any warnings. please don't read this if you think it will be too triggering. the last thing i want is to make someone upset! but writing this was cathartic and helped me work through some things, i think. writing is magical!

🫀🫀🫀

THE GREAT DIVIDE

SOMETIME IN 1987

You aren’t sure how long it’s been since you last saw your friends. It feels like a fucking long time.

You woke up on the ground of the Upside Down, covered in dried blood and terrified at the sight of Vecna towering above you.

He brought you back to life. He wanted to send you back home and use you as a soldier and spy, the same thing he did to Will, Billy, Heather, and countless others.

“If you do this,” Vecna had growled, “You can once again see your family. Your friends. Your beloved Steven. Otherwise…you will die here.”

You refused, not interested in being his lackey. He tried to flay you anyway, but he was weak from the hell Nancy, Steve, and Robin rained down on him, allowing you to escape his clutches.

He stalked you for days, finally catching up to you—but you got the upper hand, using Eddie’s spear to stab him. Repeatedly.  

Killing Vecna caused the gates he opened to sew themselves back shut before you could get through. You were glad that your friends no longer had to worry about Vecna and his army of monsters pouring through the four gates, but it meant you were trapped on the wrong side of the universe.

Vecna gone meant the Upside Down could revert back to what it was before he arrived. Now, the sky of the Upside Down was a buttery yellow, and it was much warmer. You saw patches of green grass and flowers starting to grow in various spots around town. But it still felt like a nightmare.

You wander the Upside Down each day with a routine: avoid monsters, forage for food and clean water, and visit the gates to see if any of them reopened. Food and water aren’t as hard to find as you feared, since the world isn’t so much of a poison, desolate nightmare anymore. But the gates stay staunchly shut, much to your chagrin.

You miss your life. You miss Steve. You miss his laugh, his smile, his kisses, his touch. You would do ungodly things to see him again.

You hope he’s okay. Any time you want to give up, you remind yourself that if roles were reversed, Steve would keep fighting to come back to you no matter what.

And, to your pleasant surprise, he does just that.

🫀🫀🫀

AUGUST 1987

It’s been three months since you returned to the land of the living. You’re not taking it well.

Surviving the Upside Down meant constantly being in fight-or-flight, scrambling to find food and clean water while avoiding demo-creature attacks. Without Vecna’s evil influence, the animals weren’t so bloodthirsty—but they still needed to eat.

You were able to avoid them, surviving yourself off disgusting canned food from the Upside Down’s version of the Big Buy and whatever houses you ransacked. It wasn’t very appetizing. It made the meal you were serving up today seem like a 5-star, 5-course delight.

It was neither of those things. It was for a church potluck that your mother had a hand in throwing. Lots of casseroles and carbs. She dragged you along to volunteer in hopes to get you out of the house.

Ever since you left the hospital in May, you’d only ever left the house to go to doctor’s appointments, therapy appointments, and Steve’s place. Your parents wanted to encourage more of a well-rounded life and schedule, and although they’d never admit it, you figured they hoped you’d turn back to your normal self. To the person you were before it all happened.

You think she might have died.

As you plate some macaroni and cornbread for your next patron, you sense eyes on you. You glance over and see two women at a table a few feet away. To your chagrin, they’re gossiping about you.

“I mean, it’s appalling,” an old bat named Shirley hisses. “She claims to have lost her memory after the earthquake and gotten lost, but it’s obvious that she just ran away.”  

“Probably thought she was grown up, that she knew better than her parents,” Mildred says with a sniff, adjusting her too-big glasses.

“I can’t believe she left poor Steve Harrington high and dry,” Shirley adds.

Your heart clenches at the fact that these women see you as a villain, as an irresponsible idiot who up and left everyone who loved her out of spite. If they knew the truth…if they knew the nightmare you’d survived…

It only gets worse from there.

“You know what Cynthia told me?” Mildred says. “That her cousin’s roommate’s friend’s brother saw Y/N working a street corner in Manassas. It's just shameful.”

Anger burns through you, hot like hellfire. So, what? You’re not just a flake—you’re a slut to this people now, too? What happened to ‘loving thy neighbor’ and ‘forgiveness’ and all that shit?

“Can I get some more of that?” an elderly man says.

It snaps you back to your task at hand: dishing out food to hungry churchgoers.

“Ah, yeah,” you say. You dump macaroni on his Styrofoam plate. “Sorry. Here you go.”

The man smiles and ambles off. You take a deep breath and try your best to tune out the whispers of the chattering hens.

Your mother must notice the scowl on your face. She makes her way to you, practically floating, as graceful as ever. She’s totally in her element. She deserves a daughter who doesn’t clomp and stumble her way through life. Who doesn’t jump at every loud noise and sleep with a hunting knife under her pillow.

“Doing all right?” your mother asks you, giving you that sympathetic look that you think you might despise by now.

You muster up a smile of your own and nod.

Your mother can’t tell its fake and beams.

“See?” she says. “I knew getting you out of the house would turn that frown upside-down!”

She doesn’t know about the Upside Down. She thinks you got injured in the earthquake, stumbled through the Indiana woodlands, and got found by cops two states over. That you couldn’t remember where you came from due to amnesia, that since they pronounced you dead no one assumed you were the missing girl from Hawkins until your memories came back.

You let her comment slide and fake a smile, figuring it’s better to pretend you’re fine than feel it all.

🫀🫀🫀

That night, you chat with Steve on the phone. He’s gone back to college for the fall semester and you miss him terribly.

He promised he’d come back to Hawkins every other weekend. He knows how hard it’s been for you coming back. Or, he says he knows. Sometimes, you get the idea that he doesn’t really understand.

How could he? Every time he tries to get you to open up about what happened and what you went through, you shut down.

However, when he asks how your day was, you decide to be honest.

“It sucked,” you say. You blow out a huff of air. “These old crones were being total bitches at the church potluck. Apparently, the new conspiracy theory is that I was turning tricks in Virginia.”

“Ugh, I’m so sorry Y/N,” Steve says. For some reason, the sympathy in his voice makes you wince.

“But it’s fine,” you say quickly. “I don’t care what they say about me.”

There’s a pause on the other end of the line.

“It’s okay if you do, you know,” Steve says, speaking slowly and carefully as if he’s worried about setting you off. (For good reason; you’ve been prone to outbursts of anger lately.)

“I know!” you say, defensiveness seeping into your tone. “But I don’t give a shit. Really.”

“Good,” Steve says. But he sounds unconvinced. “You shouldn’t.”

Another pause. It lasts a little too long for your liking. You clear your throat.

“I should probably shower and head to bed,” you say. “It’s been a long day.”

“Yeah, totally,” Steve says. You don’t understand why he sounds almost intrigued by the prospect of your boring nighttime routine until he says, “A shower with you sounds like heaven right now…”

Shit. You’re really not in the mood for phone sex. Even if that’s not what Steve is angling for, just slightly flirty banter doesn’t sound fun to you either.

Steve has been a total gentleman ever since you got back. You’ve kissed a little, but anytime he tries to take it further, you stop him. As much as you longed for him in every sense while in the Upside Down, you don’t feel ready to re-engage in those kinds of activities—like you’ve been shot back to the insecure, unconfident person you were before you started dating Steve.

He respects those boundaries and never, ever presses for more. But you worry he’s getting bored and wants to get back into old habits, possibly evidenced by his shower comment.

You’re a coward. You don’t tell him outright that you’re not in the mood, afraid he’ll have an out-of-character reaction and chew you out for being a prude or a tease.

“Huh?” you say. Steve starts to repeat his salacious comment, but you interrupt with: “Bad…connection…can’t…better…”

You hang up the phone and let out a breath you didn’t know you were holding.

🫀🫀🫀

OCTOBER 1987

It’s a Thursday in October, and you’re taking a trip for the first time in a long time.

“You have everything you need?”

“Yes, Mom.”

“Toothbrush? Extra socks? Lambchop?”

You huff and roll your eyes, crossing your arms like a petulant teenager.

“Mom! I’m an adult. I do not need a stuffed animal.”

“But you packed her, right?”

You mumble out a “Yes” as she pulls up to the parking lot near Steve’s apartment building.

You applied for spring admission at the University of Indiana. Your lovely boyfriend invited you to stay with him for a few days so he could show you around campus for homecoming weekend.

Tonight is the unofficial campus tour with “Tour Guide Steve.” Tomorrow, you’ll help him and his friends put the finishing touches on a homecoming parade float, and Saturday is the big football game.

Before your disappearance and assumed death, your parents were insanely strict about you staying the night with Steve and wouldn’t have allowed it. Now, they’ve mellowed out—but you hate thinking it’s because of some kind of twisted pity.

Steve must have seen your mom’s minivan pull up from his apartment window, because he jogs over to you before you’ve even grabbed your bag from the trunk.

“Hey, babe!” he says with a beaming grin; the picture of exuberance. You can feel his excitement roll off him in waves. You feel like an asshole for matching his energy. Even though you’re excited for time with Steve, you have a pit in your stomach at the thought of being away from home for so many days.

Of course, if you get accepted to U of I, you’ll be away from home for weeks at a time. You try not to think about that.

Steve hugs you tightly, and you hope he can’t sense your apprehension.

He seems not too, still smiling as he gives your mom a quick hug and then offers to carry your duffel bag for you.

You give your mom a hug goodbye, promising to call if you want to get picked up early.

You and Steve wave as your mom drives away. After dropping your bag off at his apartment, Steve takes you on an abridged campus tour that ends at the dining hall. He wants to introduce you to his friends.

He has friends here. Of course he does, you’re glad he does. No one should feel like they don’t have friends, or like their girlfriend is their only friend. But what does it mean that your boyfriend is your only friend lately?

Nancy’s off at Emerson. As for the Hawkins crew, Jonathan’s busy with family stuff, helping Joyce and Hopper renovate their new house. Eddie’s preoccupied with his band, trying to get Corroded Coffin off the ground after a he-was-accused-of-murder hiatus. And Robin’s a student at Roane County Community College, spending her days with marching band and classes and clubs and work.

They’ve started inviting you to things, and sometimes you go. You usually don’t have much fun, distracted with your own anxieties and unable to think of anything interesting to say.

So, the fact that Steve seems to have moved on from everything so easily and has a pack of friends at college makes you feel pathetic, even though it shouldn’t.

At the dining hall, Steve introduces you to his buddies. When Steve lived on-campus last semester, Gus was his roommate. Now Steve’s moved into his own apartment off-campus, but the boys still hang out often and play together on a club basketball team.

Jessica is Gus’ girlfriend. She has a kind smile and compliments your sweater.

The last friend in their clique is Rochelle. She’s tall and slender, like a supermodel. Apparently, she and Jessica grew up together and are good friends.

Everyone greets you happily when Steve introduces you—except Rochelle, who looks you up and down like she’s inspecting you. It makes you uneasy.

You immediately start to dislike her more when she laughs loudly at Steve’s jokes and squeezes his shoulder flirtatiously.

“You are tew much, Harrington,” Rochelle says, flipping her shiny hair over her shoulder.

It makes you feel tense and jealous and angry and sick all at once.

You’re completely content to listen in silence while the others chat, but then Jessica asks where you go to school.

“Oh, um, here, in the spring,” you say. “Uh, hopefully.”

“That’s awesome!” Gus says. “You get the full Hoosiers homecoming experience a whole semester before having to pay tuition.”

You chuckle and smile. Any good feelings you have about this interaction come crashing down when Rochelle asks, “So, like, if you aren’t a student right now, what do you do?”

“She’s working at Sonic,” Steve says. “Saving up money. Right babe?”

You turn to him, face falling. You’re not working. You tried to apply for a job at Sonic and had a panic attack when you saw the gap in your resume from your 15 months in the Upside Down, so you roller-skated your way home to unemployment.

Did you not tell Steve that? You suppose you “forgot” to tell him about that panic episode.

“Uh, actually no,” you say, furrowing your brow. “Not anymore. I’m just taking a semester off.”

Surprise flashes behind Steve’s eyes, but he recovers quickly. He throws an arm around your shoulders and says, “Right, of course.”

The rest of the conversation is mostly you smiling and nodding along to the funny stories and inside jokes the group shares. When you and Steve get back to his place later that evening, you apologize for not updating him on the Sonic situation sooner.

Steve waves away your apology.

“Don’t even worry about it,” he says.

“But I feel bad,” you say, fidgeting with your fingers while you sit next to him on the couch. “I can’t believe I forgot to tell you.”

(You didn’t truly forget. You were embarrassed and didn’t want him to know.)

“These things happen,” Steve says. “I totally get it. For a few months after Vecna and…you, my brain was like scrambled eggs. I’d drink myself to a coma every other night. I definitely didn’t have the sharpest mind.”

You appreciate him for understanding. Except you feel shitty because you’re lying to him about forgetting. It’s a vicious cycle.

The two of you put on a movie, and while you’re lying on the couch with him, you start thinking of something you haven’t done in a long, long time.

You lightly trace your hand up and down the arm that’s wrapped around your middle.

“Hey,” you say quietly. “Would you want to…”

You clear your throat.

“What?” Steve asks.

You aren’t sure how to ask for what you want without sounding wholly desperate and/or pathetic and/or like the horniest bastard alive.

“Go to your room?” you say.

“Sure, if you want, we can go to sleep. We have a long day tomorrow.”

You laugh lightly.

“No, I mean. You know.”

You wiggle your eyebrows and Steve’s jaw drops. Mouth agape, like a goldfish, his brains seems to short circuit.

The air is charged with something you haven’t felt in a long time.

“Are you sure?” Steve says, a barely audibly whisper. His hand cups your cheek so delicately, and you feel cherished. Love. Seen.

“I am,” you whisper back, before pulling him closer to you for a kiss.

It’s the kind of kiss you dreamed about while you were trapped in another universe.

It makes you feel electric, the same way your first kiss had. That iconic kiss happened because Steve found out you’d never played spin the bottle. In his kitchen late, late at night, he took an empty soda bottle and spun it on the countertop.

He had maneuvered it just right and stopped it with his hand when the bottle neck pointed right at you, like a compass needle finding truth north.

“Well, what do you know,” Steve had said at the time, with a dopey grin on his face. “It’s you.”

“If you wanted to kiss me so bad,” you had quipped, “you could’ve just asked.”

And then you two kissed like crazy, amongst other things.

Back in the present, all your hesitancies and qualms about re-engaging in intimacy and sex with Steve are thrown out the window when you feel his lips on yours.

Giddy as if it’s the first time (because, in a way, it kind of is), the two of you break apart and practically race down the hall to his bedroom. Thank goodness for no roommates, because when you’re in there, Steve slams the door and presses you against it to kiss some more, closing the gap between the metaphorical great divide that you’ve placed between you both.

You tug at his shirt, and he pulls it off before the two of you stumble into his bed.

Things heat up, and they’re going great. Steve is kissing and biting your neck, probably leaving a hickey or two, but you don’t mind. His hands are gripping your waist, practically leaving scorch marks in their wake.

You’re loving this. You’re having a great time.

Until you’re not. The trains of thought in your brain all rush from the station at the same time, colliding at a junction on the tracks.

What if you give Steve an infection? Not an STD, but like, an Upside Down sickness. You could be a carrier and not even realize it. Is that a possibility? What did Dr. Owens say last time you saw him?

He advised you not to get pregnant. He said there’s a possibility your future children could have birth defects after your time in the Upside Down. Birth defects! You’re only 21 years old and your body is poisoned. Not enough to harm you in the short term, but the long term effects on you (and your progeny) could be terrible to deal with.

But Steve really wants kids. What if he finds out you can’t give him children and he leaves you? You really, really don’t want him to leave you.

You don’t realize it, but you start breathing a little harder. To Steve, it seems like you’re insanely turned on. Mentally, your brain is on a different plane of existence.

He’s going to leave you because he’s better off without you. He doesn’t realize it yet but one day, one day. He will.

Vecna was right. Vecna said Steve would get tired and bored of you. That’s why the monster tried to recruit you, to flay you. That’s why he pursued you across the Upside Down for days, hunting you like a dog until he cornered you at the quarry.

Steve finally takes notice of your erratic breathing pattern. You’re not reacting how you usually do to his kissing. He ceases the lovefest and leans up on his elbows.

“Y/N? You okay?”

You don’t hear him. You continue to hyperventilate, your eyes screwed tightly shut.

And when you stabbed the beast through the chest with the spear Eddie left behind, you didn’t even feel sorry.

Is that the kind of person you are? A sick, violent freak?

But it was self-defense!

But if you hadn’t tried to draw the demobats away, you wouldn’t have been in that situation. You went against the plan. You caused all the bad things that happened to you.

You’re a bad person. A bad omen. A bad girlfriend. A bad daughter. A—

“Hey, can you hear me? Y/N?”

Steve’s soft, slightly panicked, voice brings you back down to reality.

You nod, eyes still shut.

“Sorry,” you say. “I don’t—I don’t know what happened.”

“It’s okay,” Steve says, still speaking quietly as if he’s afraid to scare you. You don’t feel his hands on you anymore, but you sense he’s still close. “It’s okay. Can you sit up? I think you should drink something.”

You sit up slowly and open your eyes. Steve looks frazzled, but he musters up a smile when he hands you a glass of cold water.

“Sorry,” you mumble.

“You don’t have to apologize.”

You don’t respond, just take a sip.

“Can we just go to bed?” you say after a moment, voice cracking.

Steve nods and gives your knee a gentle squeeze.

“Of course. And, hey, listen, we don’t have to have sex anytime soon, okay?”

“But—”

“No, seriously,” Steve says, shaking his head vehemently. “I mean, of course I like having sex with you. Probably too much.”

You snort and shake your head, a small smile pulling at the corners of your mouth.

“But you know I don’t mind waiting. Right?”

You nod.

“Yeah, I know.”

But as you lie awake, tossing and turning, your brain continues feeding you lie after lie, and you find yourself believing the opposite. Prude, tease. Bad girlfriend. Bad person.

🫀🫀🫀

The next morning, you, Steve, Gus, Jessica, and Rochelle work on a homecoming float for the club basketball team the boys are on.

It’s fun at first. The parking lot is filled with floats for all different student organizations. Someone is playing music a bit too loud, but the energy is electric.

It takes a turn when Steve rushes off with Gus to get more supplies.

While you’re kneeling by the float trying to staple tinsel trim around the edge, you hear Rochelle and Jessica whispering conspiratorially on the other side. They can’t see you due to a large papier mâché basketball blocking you from view.

You're awash with embarrassment, feeling warm head to toe, when you realize they’re talking about you.  

“You know what Mollie told me?” Rochelle said. “When she and Steve were hooking up last year, he called her Y/N, like, three times.”

Your heart shrinks. You didn’t know Steve had been involved with anyone while you were gone. In fact, he said the opposite.

“That’s kind of sweet though, when you think about it,” Jessica muses. “But I wonder what caused Steve and Y/N to break up and then get back together. I’ve never dreamed of breaking up with Gus.”

“I heard some other super freaky stuff about her,” Rochelle says. “My sorority sister, Tina, is from Hawkins too. Apparently, Y/N had, like, amnesia or some shit after that earthquake thing. And she was like missing.”

“Damn,” Jessica says. “That’s crazy. How’d she remember stuff and get back home?”

“Who gives a shit?” Rochelle scoffs. “That’s obviously a cover story. Tina said the real story is probably something much simpler. Like she ran away to become a stripper but couldn’t hack it because she doesn’t have a good body. And, well, we’ve seen that firsthand.”

Anger and shame courses through your veins, and you tug on the hem of your sweatshirt. You’re comforted only a miniscule amount when you hear Jessica come to your defense.

“Don’t be such a jerk. And we have no idea what really happened so stop making shit up, mkay?”

“I’m just repeating what I heard. But Tina’s right, her whole deal is so weird. I can’t believe she’s Steve’s girlfriend. He deserves better.”

Those words echo in your head. He deserves better. He deserves better. You’ve been thinking that a lot yourself lately.

You don’t care if Jessica and Rochelle see you when you toss your stapler onto the ground and stomp off.

“Oh, shit,” you hear Jessica say. “Nice going, Roche.”

“It’s not my fault! I didn’t know she was creeping around!”

As you beeline through the throngs of float-makers, you bump into Steve, holding a box of glittery something. He grins at you.

“Hey, where’s the fire?”

When he notices the grim look on your face, he sobers up.

“Whoa, what happened?”  

“Who’s Mollie?” you ask before you can stop yourself.

Steve pales. He swallows hard, grip on the box loosening. He gingerly sets it on the ground next to him and shrugs.

“No one.”

“Liar.”

Steve glances around before leading you away from the crowd to a secluded spot on the outskirts of the parking lot.

“She really was no one,” Steve repeats. “Just some girl I had a class with. I was lonely and she liked me, so we went out twice.”

“I heard Rochelle say you hooked up with her,” you say. You cross your arms and try to keep angry tears at bay. “You told me you didn’t find anybody else.”

“I didn’t!” Steve says, a little louder. He clears his throat. “I meant that. We almost hooked up, but I couldn’t stop thinking of you.”

You sigh and shake your head. You want to believe him so badly. But the voice in your head that’s been so cruel to you lately isn’t convinced.

“Do you still think about her?”

Steve scrunches up his face, wholly confused at your line of questioning.

“What? No, of course not. Like I said, we hung out twice, had one near-miss, and then never spoke again. Babe, is everything okay?”

He reaches a hand to your arm and you flinch away. Your action makes him frown deeper.

You rub your forehead.

“Yeah, I’m fine,” you say. “Just tired.”

A beat. You think Steve’s going to accept your answer, until: “Why are you lying to me?”

“I’m not lying!” you say, irritation creeping into your tone. “I’m just tired. Okay, Steve?”

Steve fidgets from foot to foot. He’s starting to look as agitated as you feel. With an annoyingly calm, even voice, he says, “I think you’re not being honest.”

“And I think you should shut up,” you fire back, before you can stop yourself.

Steve’s face contorts into a frown, the line between his brows deepening.

“Whoa, what the hell?” he says. “Why are you being like this?”

“Because I just found out you lied about not being involved with someone while I was gone!”

Steve rubs his face with his hands, as if he’s trying to scrub away whatever he’s feeling. He takes a deep breath, another one, and then finally speaks.

“Y/N, I thought you were dead,” he says, voice strained. “You can’t seriously be jealous of me spending time with someone else because to my knowledge, I was never going to see you again.”

You know you should apologize for your outburst. Tell him about your insecurities, now dialed up to 1000 thanks to Rochelle’s comments. Rejoin his friends at the float like the normal girlfriend he probably wishes you were.

But instead, you find yourself voicing one of the fears that’s been swirling in your brain since June.

“It would be so much easier for you if that was still the case, right?” you ask, softly.

“Excuse me?” Steve asks.

“Do you ever regret it?” you ask. “Bringing me back?” He doesn’t react, doesn’t move, doesn’t blink. You clear your throat and, louder, add, “Because it would be so much simpler for you to date a girl like Mollie or Rochelle.”

“Jesus, Y/N,” Steve groans. “Don’t bring Rochelle into this.”

“Why not? She’s obviously obsessed with you!”

“Yeah?” Steve scoffs. “Well, I don’t like her. I like you.” He shakes his head, as if he’s short-circuiting, and corrects, “I love you!”

Too late. You already heard the Freudian slip of your worst nightmare. He doesn’t regard you in the same way he did before your so-called death. You’ve changed too much.

You shake your head vehemently.

“No,” you say. “No. You loved the girl I was before it all happened.”

“You’re still the same girl!”

“I’m not!” you shout. You’re so angry, so upset, so emotional, you can’t stop. You’re floating above your body and watching yourself speak when you say, “I’m not. She’s gone, and sometimes I wish you’d never brought me back so I wouldn’t feel like this.”

Steve goes still once more. When he finally replies, his voice is dangerously quiet: “How dare you say that.”

You hadn’t expected that. You’d expected him to swoop in with comforting platitudes. To hug you and promise it would all be okay. To truly hear the words you’re saying—the thoughts you’ve been too afraid to voice in therapy, thoughts you’ve sugarcoated in your mind to lessen that bitter feeling on your tongue when you finally speak them aloud.

“What?” you whisper. Your eyes sting, unshed tears collecting on your lash line.

“How dare you say that,” Steve says, shaking his head. He’s angrier than you’ve ever seen him. He runs a hand through his hair and barks out a laugh so hollow, you can practically hear the echo in his ribcage. “That’s so fucking selfish that you wish you were still down there. I was miserable without you. I didn’t want to go on. I didn’t think I could!”

He's not getting what you’re trying to say. You open your mouth to reply, to apologize, to try and fix things, but Steve continues.

“So for you to be so callous, to think so little of me, to think I’d rather date some vapid airhead just because it would be ‘simpler’? To think I somehow can’t love you anymore because of what you went through? That’s just…bullshit!”

You heave out a sob as tears roll down your cheeks. Steve’s expression morphs into one of guilt. He swallows hard.

“Y/N, I—”

“You don’t get to tell me my feelings are bullshit!” you snap. You sniffle and roughly wipe your tears away, before jabbing a finger into his chest and pressing in. “Ever since I’ve been back, it’s all about how everyone else feels about it. You and my parents are so much happier, and you seem to think I can snap back to how I was before and forget it all happened and be grateful that I survived. Well, I can’t!”

Despite your distance from the parade planning festivities, you see a few curious students glance in your direction. You can’t be bothered to care.

“I don’t know how to go on with life like normal after 15 months in that hell, and no one understands what I’m going through!” you yell. “No one has been through that! And I’m miserable and scared and anxious and I’m lying to my therapist week after week because I can’t even verbalize what I’m thinking without feeling like I’m losing my goddamn mind. So sorry if sometimes I wish all this would go away.”

Steve’s facial expression cracks your heart in seventeen pieces. He looks devastated and confused.

“I’m so sorry,” he says, somewhat cautiously. “You’re right. I’m not handling this well, not seeing it from your point of view. But this is the most you’ve expressed how you’re feeling about it all. For the past few months, I—I don’t know. I thought you were feeling okay.”

You sniffle again and shrug.

“Sorry.”

“It’s okay, Y/N,” Steve says. He clears his throat. “This is good, I think. Well, no, it’s not good that we’re screaming at each other in the quad. But getting our feelings out is—”

“I want to go home,” you say, cutting him off.

Steve closes his eyes, sighs softly, and nods.

“Yeah, okay. I’ll drive you back to Hawkins tonight.”

“No, I want to go now,” you say, voice cracking as you try not to cry harder. “I want my mom to come get me.”

Hurt flashes on Steve’s features. “Babe, are you sure? I really don’t mind. I want to, actually. The drive will give us more of a chance to talk.”

But you’re too tired and overwhelmed to talk anymore. Steve understands, though his shoulders are slumped as the two of you walk back to his apartment.

He offers to pack your bag while you call your house. Your mom picks up on the second ring.

“Hello, Y/L/N residence.”

“Mom?” you sniff. “Can you come get me?”

“Oh, of course sweetie!” You hear the jingle of car keys. “Wait, are you crying? What’s wrong? Was it another nightmare?”

“I just don’t want to be here anymore.”

“Did you and Steve have a fight?”

“His friends were really mean,” you say quietly, deciding not to disclose that you indeed got in an argument with Steve. “This girl, Rochelle, said one of her friends from Hawkins is telling everyone I was a stripper.”

“Oh, don’t you listen to that.”

You can’t hold back tears as you begin to cry harder.

“How come everyone makes up those dumb rumors?” you say through sobs. “And if people on campus already know them, how much worse will it be if I’m a student here?!”

Your mom soothes you over the phone before promising to get there as quickly as possible. As you hang up the phone, Steve comes in from down the hall, frowning and carrying your now-packed duffel. He doesn’t even try to be subtle about his eavesdropping when he asks, “Why didn’t you tell me Rochelle said that to you?”

You shrug and look down at your feet.

Steve closes his eyes and shakes his head. “I keep replaying our conversation in my head,” he says, “and I feel like an ass.”

“You’re not, Steve.”

“No! I am. I absolutely am. You were honest and vulnerable, and I immediately got mad. I’m so, so sorry.”

“It’s okay,” you say flatly. Admittedly, you’re not sure if you forgive him yet. But you know you didn’t treat him well either, so you say, “I’m sorry too. I was insensitive. I know you had a hard time while I was gone—”

“But it’s nothing compared to what you were dealing with,” Steve says. He steps closer to you and intertwines your hands together. “Are you sure you don’t want me to drive you?”

“My mom’s already on her way,” you say. “And you should rest up. Tomorrow’s the parade, and the homecoming game.”

“I don’t need to go to the game.”

“Steve—”

“I’d rather come back to Hawkins this weekend,” he continues. “Spend more time with you. Talk things through, you know? Maybe I can just ride with you and your mom, and Munson can bring me back Sunday.”

He’s sweet. But you aren’t sure how to tell him that you really, really don’t want to be around him right now. You don’t want to be around anyone, really.

You take a deep breath, gently drop his hands, and say, “I think I need some space.”

You can’t look Steve in the eye, but you hear the pain in his voice when he says, “Oh. Um, okay. Yeah. Of course. Space.”

You two sit in awkward silence while you wait for your mom to arrive. When she gets there, Steve continues to be a gentleman, carrying your bag for you and politely making small talk with your mom. He gives you a hug goodbye, but it doesn’t linger the way his hugs usually do.

As your mom drives away, you watch your boyfriend get smaller and smaller in the side mirror.

Before leaving, you promised him you’d call him that night.

You conveniently “forget” to do that.

He leaves a message at 9:37 p.m., asking you to call him back.

You don’t.

🫀🫀🫀

NOVEMBER 1987

“Hey, babe. It’s Steve. Again. I know we agreed on ‘space’ but I haven’t heard from you in three weeks…I don’t want to rush or smother you, but I’d really like to talk, even if it’s for, like, five minutes. So please call me back. I love you, Y/N.”

-

“Hey Y/N. Are you doing okay? Robin says she saw you and your mom at the store the other day and you just seemed kind of…out of it. To be honest, I’m worried about you. Listen, even if you don’t…even if we…even if you’ve decided you don’t want to be with me anymore, or something, I still care about you. And I’ll always be here for you, no matter what. Please call me. Bye. Love you.”

-

“Hi Y/N, I’m coming back to Hawkins for Thanksgiving. Can I come by after you and your parents have dinner? I want to check in. On how you’re doing, and on how you’re feeling about ‘us.’ Let me know, okay? Bye, Y/N.”

-

“Hey. I’m going to swing by your place after I’ve finished Thanksgiving dinner with the Buckleys. Robin told me you’ve been avoiding her too. And Eddie, and Jonathan. I know you’re going through a tough time, but don’t try to do it alone. That’s a lesson I learned the hard way last year. I’ll see you tonight, all right?” 

🫀🫀🫀

You’ve spent the past month and a half wallowing. All you really do is sleep, eat, shower, and take short walks around your neighborhood for exercise. Any time Steve calls the house phone, you tell your parents to let it ring and let it go to voicemail.

It’s shitty of you, but you aren’t sure how to dig yourself out of this hole that you’ve found yourself in. You’re still feeling rather undeserving of Steve.

So when he shows up on your doorstep on Thanksgiving, wearing that maroon sweater that you’ve always just adored, the first thing you do is apologize for your radio silence. Then, you offer him pumpkin pie.

“I won’t say no,” he says. “As long as you split it with me.”

While your parents cuddle on the couch and watch It’s A Wonderful Life, you and Steve sit on the kitchen counter and eat slices of pie with whipped cream.

For a few minutes, you exchange small talk and pleasantries. Then, Steve gets down to business.

“How have you been doing, really?” Steve asks.

“Fine. Just tired.”

“Y/N,” Steve says with a sigh. “Please just be honest with me.”

You suck in a breath.

“Okay. You want honesty? I’m having a really hard time.”

“I know,” Steve says gently. “And I want to help. Can you talk to me about what’s going on?”

You consider it. You consider wrenching your heart open for him and admitting all your fears and insecurities. But last time you broached this subject with Steve and tried to be wholly honest about what you were feeling, you didn’t explain it right and he took it the wrong way.

And you also hear what sounds like Rochelle’s voice in your mind: He deserves better. He deserves better.

You save yourself the trouble and say, “I need to get my shit together. And I’m not being a very good girlfriend while I do, so I think we need to break up.”

Despite your best efforts to stay strong, you feel tears coming on. Everything only worsens when you hear Steve whisper, “What?” 

He deserves better. He deserves better. He deserves better than you.

“I have to focus on myself right now,” you continue as the tears roll down your cheeks. You stab your pie with your fork and say, “I’m sorry. I love you so much—”

“I love you too, Y/N, so I—”

“—but I need to deal with this on my own. It’s not fair of me to treat you like this.” You clear your throat and add, “You deserve someone who can give you everything you want.”

“You’re what I want,” Steve says. You can’t look at him, but you get the impression that he’s tearing up too. “I mean, if this is really what you want, I’ll respect your decision completely, but I just have to know—is there anything I can do to change your mind?”

You don’t want to do this—

—but he deserves better.

“I’m sorry, but no.”

“You don’t have to do this alone,” Steve says after a beat. “Even if we aren’t together anymore, I’m still here for you. You know that, right?”

You nod, still decimating your pie slice with your fork.

“Okay, good.” He sniffles.

“Sorry.”

“It’s okay. You don’t have to keep apologizing.” 

“Sorry. Ah, I mean—”

Steve chuckles, despite everything. You two share an awkward hug goodbye before he leaves.

You stay in the kitchen and hear him wish your parents “Happy holidays.” As you hear the front door open and shut, as you hear his car turn on and drive away, you try to convince yourself this was the correct choice. That shutting him out means he’ll live a happier life without you.

The pit of emptiness like a chasm in your soul will go away eventually, right?

🫀🫀🫀

FEBRUARY 1988

It’s been 3 months since you broke up with Steve.

You decided to defer your U of I enrollment. Steve, being a good friend, calls a few days before the semester starts asking if you’d like help moving into your dorm, and you break the news to him. He understands but sounds disappointed. It makes you feel terrible.

But this is the right choice. You aren’t ready to be away from home, away from your parents, even if it’s just a couple hours away.

You start taking community college classes to fill your time and get some credits, along with working at Bradley’s Big Buy as a stocker. It’s mindless, monotonous work. It’s kind of perfect.

What isn’t so perfect is your therapist, Elaine. She’s nice enough. But she doesn’t seem to get it. You aren’t able to fully tell her what you went through, considering she knows nothing about the Upside Down, so she can’t really help you.

When you start opening up about the dark thoughts worming their way through your mind, Elaine advocates strongly and staunchly for putting yourself out there and making new friends to fill the void. You’re starting to wonder if you’re wasting your time shelling out $50 a week.

You do think a better social life would be good for you, so you invite Robin, Eddie, and Jonathan to come over to your place for a horror movie marathon. (Nancy would be invited too, if she wasn’t away at school.) You’ve rented a D-level slasher trilogy about a man in a hockey mask attacking pageant queens. It’s small potatoes compared to what you’ve actually been through.

Jonathan agrees, but both Robin and Eddie tell you they can’t make it. Robin because she’s got the flu. Eddie because he has band practice all afternoon and into the night.

It stings like a barb ripping you open when you swing by Melvald’s for cheap movie candy and spot the two of them across the street, laughing as they head into the Hawk with…Steve, who must be home from school for the weekend.

So they do want to have a movie night. Just with Steve and not you. Message received.

You wonder if Steve said something to sour you in their eyes. You thought the breakup was amicable. You know he was upset by it, but he respected your decision. And he doesn’t seem like the type to badmouth an ex, especially after all you’ve been through together.

But anxiety rolls through your nervous system the rest of the day. As you and Jonathan watch the crappy movies, you just feel numb.

“Jee-sus!” Jonathan yelps as the killer’s chainsaw hacks through someone’s limb.

He glances your way, eyebrows raising. “What? That didn’t scare you?”

You shrug. “I’ve seen worse.”

Jonathan’s brow furrows. He leans over and pauses the movie.

“Hey, is everything okay?”

“I’m fine.”

“Are you sure? We can watch something else. Or, if you’d rather be alone, I can head out.”

You pick at a loose thread on the pillow in your lap.

“Are Robin and Eddie mad at me?” you whisper.

“What?” Jonathan says with a laugh. “You’re, like, the nicest person in a fifty-mile radius. Why would they be mad at you?”

The old you was nice. The current you is moody. But Jonathan is also pretty moody, so maybe your moodiness is baseline in his eyes.

“They both said they couldn’t come tonight,” you continue, “but then I saw them just an hour ago in downtown Hawkins heading into the Hawk with Steve. Why else would they make up excuses not to come unless they were mad?”

Jonathan takes a long, slow sip of his grape soda and shrugs.

“It’s probably because they don’t want you to think they chose Steve over you in the breakup.”

“But that’s exactly what they did!”

“Maybe not,” Jonathan says. “Maybe they just made the plans with Steve before you invited us over and it’s easier to turn down your invitation than cancel on him.”

That’s a very logical way of looking at it, but it still stings feeling like you’ve lost two friends since you and Steve aren’t together anymore.

You and Jonathan continue watching, but his mom calls halfway through the second movie, forcing him to leave early—something about El using telekinesis to turn her bed into a bunk bed and it backfiring horribly.

You try to push your worries out of your mind, but paranoia takes a hold. As you toss and turn in your bed that night, clutching Lambchop for a semblance of comfort, your brain bullies you.

Robin and Eddie are pissed at you. Probably because you haven’t gone to any Corroded Coffin shows since you’ve been back. You’ve been a little preoccupied.

A little selfish, more like. It doesn’t matter what you’re going through. You should still support your friends.

But why? You don’t like drinking alcohol anymore because you don’t like feeling out of control. And the Hideout is the only place Corroded Coffin plays, and that place reeks of booze and cigarettes and bad decisions.

Maybe that’s why Eddie’s mad. Is Robin mad by proxy? Did Steve shit-talk you to her? How did he describe the events of the breakup?

Were you a bad girlfriend? Are you a bad friend? Bad person?

Yes. You’re a bad person.

🫀🫀🫀

You happen to run into Robin on the community college’s campus the following Monday. You can’t help but ask if she’s feeling better.

Her eyes widen and she plasters on a smile.

“O-oh, yeah!” she says. “I’m feeling loads better. Tons! Tons better.”

“Your sinus infection is gone?” you prompt, knowing full well she told you it was the flu.

“Yep! All gone. My sinuses are as healthy as can be. I feel like I could live to be 100!”

You exchange a few more pleasantries and shuffle off.

🫀🫀🫀

MARCH 1988

There’s a dark cloud hovering over your mind. Most days, you’re lethargic. You go to classes and go to work, and you do start going to the Hideout on Tuesday nights with Jonathan and Robin to watch Eddie play with his band.

But that’s the extent of your social life. You’re feeling lonely and drained.

Things take a turn for the worse in March. It was a cold, cold winter in Hawkins, and spring is shaping up to be warmer but just as gloomy. Really bad thunderstorms shake the windowpanes of your house most days, and the streaks of lightning remind you so much of the grayish-yellow Upside Down sky, it makes you sick.

You can’t help but find yourself thinking you want to disappear to escape it all. Not die, exactly. But fall into a deep, dreamless sleep. Maybe when you woke up, things would be better.

You try to explain what you’re feeling to Elaine the Therapist, and she doesn’t understand what you meant in the slightest.

“Have you gotten checked for narcolepsy?” she asks.

You give her a tight smile and say you’ll ask your doctor about it at your next checkup.

A bright spot is when Robin invites you to a party at her apartment. You forgot her and Eddie’s little white lie from a few weeks ago and RSVP yes.

The party is going well. You’re having a nice conversation with Jonathan and Eddie when Steve walks in, and he’s not alone.

Your heart sinks to your feet, through the floor, and all the way to the core of the earth when you see Steve is joined by Rochelle.

You don’t even hear any of the conversations happening around you. You quickly excuse yourself to the kitchen for a glass of water—and because you need to be alone.

You get about 15 seconds of a reprieve before Steve enters.

“Listen, it’s not what you think,” he says quickly.

“Hello to you too, Steve,” you say. You can’t even look him in the eye, choosing instead to study the ice cubes in your glass.

“I’m not here with Rochelle,” Steve continues. He runs a hand through his hair. “I mean, yes, she’s here. And I’m here. And we’re here together. But not together together! God, I’m not making any sense, am I?”

“None at all.”

“She needed a ride to her parents’ house for the weekend,” Steve explains. “She lives just forty-five minutes from here. But I guess they were out of town, and she didn’t have a key, so she’s staying with me. And she didn’t want to spend all day in my house alone, so—”

“She’s here,” you finish for him. You finally look him in the eye and force a smile. “That’s fine, Steve. You can hang out with whoever you want.”

“Trust me,” Steve snorts. “I’d rather not be hanging out with her. I’m just doing her a favor because she’s friends with Jessica and Gus.”

Before you can respond, Rochelle saunters into the kitchen. She smiles like a shark—all gums and teeth.

“Oh, it’s you!” she says. “Y/N! How have you been?”

“Fine,” you say politely. “How about you?”

“Oh, just great. Really great. Sad to not see you around campus, though. I thought you enrolled?”

She has the impressive capability of making everything single sentence sound like an insult.

“I’m going to community college instead,” you explain. “But I really should get back out there.”

You give Steve and Rochelle a wide berth before stepping back into the living room.

The rest of the party goes by fine. Except you can’t quite contain your rage watching Rochelle throw herself at Steve all afternoon.

She sits too close to him. She constantly whispers in his ear and giggles, like they’re sharing inside jokes and secrets. While Robin’s putting on a movie for everyone to watch, you swear you even see Rochelle put her hand on Steve’s thigh.

The only thing that makes you feel better is that Steve blocks every one of these advances. While Eddie regales you all with a Corroded Coffin storytime, you even notice Steve's slotted himself in between Robin and the wall, forcing Rochelle to stand off to the side near a potted plant.

When the party’s over, you wish Robin well and try to slip out unnoticed. Unfortunately, Steve has a terrible habit of noticing everything about you, and he follows you out.

“Hey, wait up!” he calls, jogging behind you as you speed walk to your car to avoid the sprinkling rain.

“Sorry, I have to go,” you say, struggling to unlock your car door.

Before you can get it unlocked and make your escape, Steve places a hand over the driver’s side door handle.

“Hold on,” he says. “Can we go somewhere and talk?”

“Well, I have to get home—”

“This’ll take five minutes,” Steve promises. He traces an X over his heart. “Cross my heart, hope to cry.”

You scrunch your nose in confusion. “It’s ‘die.’”

“Huh?”

“It’s ‘Cross my heart, hope to die. Stick a needle in my eye.’”

Steve’s eyes widen and jaw drops, affronted. “Jesus Christ,” he grumbles. “Why would anyone ever want to do that?”

“That’s the point!” you say, and you can’t help but laugh at the appalled look on his face. “You don’t want to do that, so you keep the promise.”

“Ah. Okay, well, I’ll be fast. I just want to see how you’ve been doing these past few months. I—I miss you, you know?”

You swallow hard. The rain’s starting to pick up now. You don’t want to wait too much longer to drive home, or else it’ll be too hard to see. And if you see lightning, you’ll probably have a panic attack behind the wheel, making you a danger to yourself and others.

“I miss you too,” you say. “But I really, really need to get home now.”

You think of leaving it at that, but your heart feels as sad as the look on his face, so you add, “But you can come by my house later tonight and we can talk? Uh, how’s 8 sound?”

Steve’s face brightens. He gives you that smile that always makes your stomach do a backflip.

“I’d like that,” he says.

You smile back and open your car door. Before stepping in, you turn to him and say, “Do not bring Rochelle.”

“Cross my whatever and hope to who-gives-a-shit!” Steve says as he walks backward away from your car. You give him a small wave, which he returns, before getting in the car and driving off.

As you suspected, the drive home is much, much too anxiety-inducing. Thunder seems to shake the whole frame of the car as you drive across town. Rain falls in pails, as if angels are taking buckets and throwing them on your car specifically. Your windshield wipers can barely keep up, and cars are honking and passing you since your fear is causing you to drive about ten under the speed limit.

You try not to let that bother you as your hands grip the wheel for dear life, the muscles from your fingers up to your shoulders impossibly tense. There’s a reason your mom drove you everywhere last summer and fall. Getting back into the habit of operating a motor vehicle isn’t easy, and everything seems to scare you now.

Despite everything, the drive is going fine—until one of the cars passing you cuts a little too close as they swerve back into the right lane. They almost clip your front bumper, which causes you to panic and swerve off the road near the now defunct trailer park.

Your tires squeak on the wet grass and you slam on your breaks, heart pounding. Shuddery breaths draw in, out. In, out. You try and collect yourself and turn your left turn signal on to merge back onto the main road. However, something gray out of the corner of your eye causes you to whip your head in the direction of the trailer park.

This is where you died and were resurrected—well, the version of this in the Upside Down. In Hawkins, the area is cordoned off. No one can live there anymore, thanks to the big cracks in the earth. Once gates, they were now sealed, but they upended some trailers and tore others in two.

You see a flash of movement between two broken trailers. The gates are supposed to be closed, and there aren’t supposed to be Upside Down creatures in Hawkins anymore, but you can’t help but wonder alternatives. You feel compelled to check it out. 

You turn off your car’s ignition, grab the flashlight from your glove box, and clamor out, ducking under the “CAUTION” tape and jogging into the park. You squint in the rain, the beam of your flashlight scanning the surrounding area. You step over uneven earth, wondering if you’re wasting your time and should just—

“GRRRRRROWWWLLLL!!!!!”

You whip around and gasp. The gray creature you saw wasn’t a demo-creature, but a mangy, stray dog with muddy fur. It snaps its jaws and you see three little puppies cowering under a bush behind it.

An overprotective mama dog wouldn’t have scared you two years ago. You would’ve known exactly how to handle the situation without freaking out. But now, your fear spikes and you remember the few run-ins with hungry demodogs you had in the Upside Down. The dog is blocking your way back to your car, so you turn on your heel and run in the opposite direction, toward the imposing forest.

You can’t think clearly. Your mind is on fire. All you can think is Danger! Danger! Danger! And it’s keeping you from making any rational decisions.

You swear you hear the dog chasing behind you, snarling and ready to attack. You zig-zag between trees and glance behind to see if you really are being chased.

You lose your footing on slick mud, left ankle twisting painfully as you fall to the ground. Your flashlight skitters out of your grasp and rolls away, blinking out.

Now, you’re stuck in the rain, in the dark, with an injured ankle and no flashlight. Thankfully, the dog wasn’t following. But you feel powerless, hoping you can muster any survival instincts from your time in the Upside Down to make your way back to safety.

🫀🫀🫀

At 7:58 p.m., Steve parks outside your house.

He’s more nervous than he needs to be. He tries to remember that this isn’t a visit to win you back, as much as he wishes it was. No, he’s respecting your decision. But he’s glad he has the chance to just talk to you.

After you dumped him, he spent way too much time overanalyzing that fight you two had in October. It solidified the fact that he was an ass, completely misunderstanding you and getting mad for no good fucking reason.

Admittedly, he was tempted to throw away all his progress and drink away his misery. But he didn’t, channeling that energy toward more productive things. His mind is clearer than it was, and he’s going to make it right this time. Steve wants to check on you, the way his friends checked on him while he was having a tough time. Their support was invaluable.

Steve rings your doorbell, shaking out his umbrella.

The front door swings open. Your father looks expectant, before he frowns.

“Steve, hello,” your father says. “Is Y/N with you?”

Steve’s brow furrows. “Uh, no,” he says. “I’m supposed to meet her here.”

Your father curses and puts his head in his hands.

“Is it her?” your mother says, rushing around the corner with the cordless phone tucked under her shoulder. When she sees Steve, her shoulders slump. She speaks into the phone, “Hopper, she’s still not back.”

“What’s going on?” Steve asks, heart sinking. “Y/N’s missing?”

“She never came back from Robin’s party,” your father says, stepping aside to let Steve in. “You saw her leave, right?”

“Yeah,” Steve says with a nod. His mouth feels very, very dry.

Your mother continues murmuring on the phone with Hopper, and your father continues grilling Steve: “How was she? Did she seem upset?”

“A little nervous, maybe,” Steve says. He swallows hard. “I, uh, I think she was freaked out by the storm.”

You should’ve driven her home, Steve thinks. You idiot. If something happens to her, it’ll be your fault.

“She’s been so quiet lately,” your father says, voice strained. He clears his throat. “And so jumpy. But she said she wanted to start driving again. We thought she was getting better…”

Your father looks like he’s beside himself. Steve is unsure what to say to make things right.

Your mother hangs up the phone and sighs. “Hopper’s going to go look for her,” she says. She chokes out a sob. “Oh, Roger…she’s been so down lately. What if she…”

“Let’s not speculate,” your father says firmly, though he looks anxious about the possibilities.

Your parents decide to drive around looking for you, and Steve joins the search in his own car as well. He can’t sit idly by knowing you’re out there, possibly in distress, possibly in danger.

🫀🫀🫀

While you’re sitting against a tree trunk trying to shield yourself from the rain, there’s a morbid part of you that’s okay with this.

You wanted something bad to happen. You wanted to be in some kind of distress, because you being hurt means people have to care about you. Right? They have to really, truly see that you’ve been struggling but haven’t been able to ask for proper help.

You snap yourself out of that thought process, trying to remind yourself that people do care about you. But it’s hard to feel that way when you’ve put so much distance between yourself and the people you love.

You aren’t sure how long you sit in the rain having a pity party, watching your swollen ankle get bigger and bigger. You need to ice it and elevate it. And anytime longer in this rain, you’ll catch a cold.

So, you crawl on your hands and knees and find as sturdy a branch as you can on the forest floor. You use it as a pseudo walking stick to help you hobble back toward the trailer park. You know the way, thanks to your time traversing the forest daily in the Upside Down.

As you get closer to the break in the trees, you hear people calling for you. You shuffle there faster.

“I’m here!” you yell, stumbling through the tree line. “I’m here!”

It’s Chief Powell and Hopper, and they look relieved to see you. Officer Callahan and an animal control worker are trying to coax the mama dog and her three pups into crates.

“What happened, kid?” Hopper asks, sitting with you in the backseat of Powell’s truck while the other man radios for an ambulance and a tow truck for your car. The usual gruff timbre to Hopper's voice has a softened edge to it today, like he can sense your emotional fragility.

“Some jerk pushed me off the road. And I thought I saw…I—listen, the mud made the dog’s fur look gray, and I thought it was—”

“One of these hellhounds?”

You nod.

“I’m not sure if you realize this,” Hopper says. “But it’s been two years to the day since you…you know.”

You swallow hard.

“I didn’t remember,” you admit. “I mean, I knew the anniversary was coming up soon, I just…”

“We were all worried you…did something,” Hopper continues cautiously.

“I wouldn’t,” you say, much too quickly. “I mean, I feel like shit a lot of the time, but…no. I wouldn’t.”

Hopper nods, eyeing you. He doesn’t quite look convinced.

When the ambulance arrives, he rides with you to the hospital. Then, your parents meet you at the ER, while a doctor looks over your ankle.

It’s sprained, but not broken, thankfully. They send you home with a brace, some crutches, painkillers, and instructions to elevate and ice.

The whole drive home, your parents give you a speech about how much they love you and how they want to know how you’re doing, and that if you ever feel low, to talk to them because they can help. Normally, that kind of thing would annoy you, but after today—the fear of seeing what you thought was a demodog, of being back in the wilderness by yourself, even just for a few hours—you appreciate the gesture.

It's after midnight when you get home, and the rain has finally let up. Your dad helps you up the porch stairs, leaning the side with your bad leg against him the whole way. You almost don’t notice the note tacked to the front door until your mom points it out.

It has your name on it. You open it. Parts of it have been scratched out, but you can still read it all.

Hey, Y/N. I was driving around looking for you when Hopper found me. I’m so glad to hear that you’re going to be okay.

I’ll swing by tomorrow to chat, if you’re still up for it. If not, no worries. I know it’s a tough time. I just want you to know that I miss you I care about you more than you know I’m here.

-Steve

🫀🫀🫀

When Steve comes by the next day, he’s not alone.

You’re surprised to see him and Max Mayfield standing on your porch.

“Uh, hello!” you say. “How are you, Max?”

“Pretty good,” she says, “now that Steve is taking us for ice cream.”

You raise your eyebrows and adjust your stance on your crutches.

“Oh!” you say. You look to Steve. He’s smiling, but it doesn’t reach his eyes. Everything about his posture is tense, nervous. You wonder if this is an intervention or something—if you’ll arrive at the ice cream shop and be bombarded by the rest of your friends and a licensed professional promising a “safe space.”

You tell your parents where you’re going, promising a million times that you’ll be careful, and hobble down the porch steps to Steve’s waiting car. He’s a gentleman, one hand hovering behind your back and ready to catch you if you fall.

Max lets you have the passenger seat, likely due to your injury. On the ride over, you consider (politely) asking what she’s doing there, as you expected this conversation would be about the nature of your and Steve’s relationship.

A part of you deep, deep down had hoped he would beg you to take him back. A part of you deeper down felt selfish for that, but it was what you wanted.

You made a huge mistake letting him go.

Steve ends up taking you both to Sonic, pulling into one of the parking spots and pressing the “Order” button. Max leans up from the backseat, sticking her head between the two front seats, and rattles off a complicated order of hot dogs, fries, slushies, and ice cream into the speaker.

“I thought this was just ice cream,” you say with an eyebrow raised.

Max smirks.

“Moneybags Harrington is paying,” she says, patting him on the shoulder.

“I resent that,” Steve grouses. But there’s a sparkle in his eye.

When the food comes, Steve divvies it up amongst the three of you. However, he quickly comes up with a shoddy excuse to step out of the car—something about the fries being a medium instead of a large.

Max climbs over the center console to settle in the driver’s seat.

You aren’t sure what to expect when you’re alone with Max, but it’s definitely not, “Dying and coming back really sucks, doesn’t it?”

Your burger immediately tastes like sandpaper. “Oh, let’s not talk about that,” you say. “Let’s talk about fun things. Have you learned any new skate tricks recently?”

“Don’t deflect,” Max says, waving a french fry at you for emphasis. “Steve said you were having a hard time because no one could relate to you, and I’m probably the only person in the world who can.”

She’s not wrong. After your return to the right side of the universe, you learned that Max woke up from her coma, completely healed, after you killed Vecna and the gates closed. You hadn’t thought about how the two of you had similar, paralleled experiences.

“It does suck,” you say quietly, swirling your spoon around in your ice cream cup. “And I kind of feel like I’m losing my mind.”

“For me, it was a lot of anger,” Max says. She fidgets with her own food as she continues. “I couldn’t understand people’s priorities anymore. Like, what do you mean you’re worried about a chem test, Dustin? A few months ago, the world almost ended!”

“I totally get that,” you say, and your heart already feels lighter. “And my parents don’t understand what really happened, so they just don’t get me at all. Why I get so scared, so angry. So jumpy. It makes me feel like I’m a freak in their eyes.”

“I feel like my mom doesn’t even see me anymore,” Max says. She clears her throat and you catch a glimpse of tears gathering on her lash line before she roughly wipes them away. “Like to her, I’m a ghost.”

“I’m sure that’s not true,” you say. She scoffs.

“And there’s another annoying thing,” Max says. “The empty platitudes to make us feel better. That shit doesn’t fix anything!”

You’re not offended by her outburst, because you honestly agree. The two of you lament a bit longer, and by the end of the conversation, you’re feeling on top of the world. Sure, nothing is really fixed. But you finally realize that you have a kindred spirit in all this.

You and Max make a plan to do things together more often. You’re seeing her as a de facto little sister already, and you’re hopeful that your planned meetings will be just as beneficial for her as they are for you.

Steve comes back after what seems like a millennium, shooing Max back to the backseat.

“Took you long enough!” she says.

He just smiles.

🫀🫀🫀

JUNE 1988

It’s the first day of summer.

And it’s been a year to the day since you returned.

You expect to feel more anxious than you do. Instead, you feel peaceful.

You’re doing a lot better, genuinely. You found a new therapist (sorry, Elaine) and since it’s someone who worked with Dr. Owens, you’re able to spill all the gory details of your past and your trauma. Healing isn’t easy, but you feel yourself slowly sewing yourself back together again.

You and Max stick to your word and take weekly trips to Sonic. You talk about the heavy stuff, but also the normal life stuff. You sometimes have guests. This past week, Lucas and Mike tagged along, arguing the whole time about what should happen in the Ghostbusters sequel that’s supposed to release next year.

You and Steve…ah, what’s there to say. You want him back, but you imploded the relationship and it feels selfish to waltz up to him and say, “Hey, hot stuff. Wanna get back together?”

However, you’ve officially enrolled for the fall semester at U of I. While he’s home from Hawkins for summer break, under the guise of asking for tips about campus life, you spend a lot of time with him.

You also spend time in the library, doing some studying to catch up before you start your classes in the fall. Your high school graduation was a lifetime ago. Literally.

Steve, Robin, and Jonathan join you for those summertime study sessions, although Jonathan and Robin usually bicker over the music theory books and Steve doesn’t get much done except for doodling in his notebook. But sometimes you catch him staring at you, and then his cheeks flush pink in that adorable way that makes you want to do something stupid, like beg him to take you back.

If only you knew if he really felt the same…

…which you find out he does, during the summer solstice.

You’re at the county fair with your friends, but they’ve all run off to watch the fireworks, so it’s just you and Steve at a picnic table downing sodas and cotton candy.

Your fingers wrap around the cool glass of a now-empty Coke bottle, and you place it on the tabletop. You attempt to look nonchalant as you spin it slowly.

Once it’s picked up momentum, you let it go, watching it spin a few more times before stopping it with your hand when the bottle neck points at Steve.

“It’s you,” you whisper, attempting to recreate that magical first kiss moment from years and years ago. You clear your throat at Steve’s dumbfounded expression. “Ah, sorry. You don’t have to kiss me. I was just…”

To your pleasant surprise, Steve’s face splits into a grin. “Well, gee, Y/N,” he says. “If you wanted to kiss me that bad, you could’ve just said so.”

A million canaries titter a love song in your heart as he leans forward.

The two of you kiss, for the first time in a long time.

The great divide in your soul is starting to seal. And everything feels right.

THE END

🫀🫀🫀

a/n please lmk what you thought 🩵

tags; @aloneinthehellfire @starry-eyed-steve @hollandweather @wisdomssdaughterr @huffledor-able541 @springautumn

@sunshinesteviee @curiositydooropened @crappymixtape

[bellaxgiornata]

I'm Right Here

Pairing: Daryl Dixon x Fem!Reader Word Count: 4.7k

Summary: After the threat of Sanctuary came to an end and peace returned, you stayed behind in Alexandria where Daryl felt you’d be safest, but he continued with the rebuilding efforts outside of Alexandria's confining walls. With Daryl gone for days on end, you soon found yourself constantly plagued by nightmares again–and the fear that he no longer wanted you.

Warnings/Tags: 18+; light angst, graphic violence, nightmares, emotional hurt/comfort, implied smut

a/n: I used to write for Daryl so much years ago and have been dying to write for him again! I do have another fic in the works for him and feedback is always appreciated!

With the flashlight aimed straight ahead of yourself, you stepped one foot carefully inside of the dilapidated and darkened clinic. Cautiously you began to shift your weight forward onto your foot, internally praying that nothing was lurking behind the dust-covered front desk on the wall to your right. It was damn near impossible to see anything inside the building without the light from your flashlight with the way the windows had long since been boarded up.

Gradually you eased your way further inside the building, one foot moving slowly after the other as you scanned the room from left to right. You left the entrance to the clinic ajar behind you in the event you needed to run; you didn’t want to waste time fighting with a closed door if a handful of walkers surprised you in these dark, enclosed quarters. But that didn’t stop the hairs raising along your forearms, a prickle of fear running through you at the prospect of something or someone sneaking up behind you while you searched for the medical supplies your group desperately needed. Though you knew Daryl was out checking the perimeter right now, which meant nothing undead should be able to sneak up on you from the outside at least.

Scanning what once had been a waiting room, you saw a handful of upturned plastic chairs scattered along the floor. A few were broken in what must’ve been a scuffle that’d occurred at some point since the world had gone to shit. Garbage and debris littered the outdated tile floor, but thankfully there were no dead lying dormant nearby. 

Shining your flashlight upwards, always overly cautious, you spotted the sagging ceiling tiles from compounding water damage over the years. You grimaced, internally planning to give the area beneath it a wide berth. You didn’t want to risk being trapped under debris if the ceiling happened to collapse while you were here.

Lowering the flashlight beam, you scanned the waiting area once more before dropping your guard just a little bit more. You wanted to get in and out of here as fast as you could so that you could get back to the others before the sun set tonight. It wasn’t exactly like you had time to waste since Michonne desperately needed whatever supplies you could find here. Unfortunately taking your time fully scanning the area like you usually would wasn’t an option right now–and at least Daryl wasn’t in here to scold you for that.

Feet hurrying across the dirty, tiled floor, you made your way through the waiting room and towards the door all the way at the back of the room. Most likely it led to the actual patient rooms where there would hopefully be some basic supplies not too picked over. And maybe if you were lucky there would be a supply closet somewhere around here that hadn’t been picked clean yet, either. Though admittedly whatever you could get your hands on would have to do for now.

Stopping in front of the door, you briefly switched your flashlight to the same hand as your knife, awkwardly holding the pair as you reached out with your now free hand, twisting the door handle before gently pushing it open just a crack. Immediately you readied yourself, swapping your flashlight back into your other hand and raising your knife, ready to strike a walker if it came barreling towards you.

Except only silence met your ears.

Carefully you pressed a shoulder up against the door, pushing it open wider. The beam of your flashlight instantly flooded the short, dark hallway. There were three doors to your right and three to your left, a single door at the opposite end of the tight space. 

Teeth gritting nervously together, you slowly slipped around the door you’d just opened, surveying the few open rooms as you moved. You didn’t like that only a couple of the doors were closed, that fear of something sneaking up behind you only growing. With your heart hammering just a bit harder in your chest, you moved carefully to the open room on your right. 

Shining your flashlight inside, you spotted what looked like a regular doctor’s office. A tattered and sun-faded bed was to the far right, a cork board covered with photos and holiday cards with dates from years long past were on the wall just beside it. As you shined the flashlight to your left in the small space, you spotted two more of those plastic chairs you’d seen in the waiting room lined against the wall. Shining the beam further to your right, just beside the door you’d stepped through, you spotted a sink and a few cabinets on the wall opposite of the bed.

Relief flooded through you as you hurried over, quickly opening the cabinets on the wall. You found gauze, cotton swabs, bandaids of different sizes and shapes, and rubbing alcohol filling the shelves. Eyes widening in surprise at the abundance of supplies, you swiftly removed the backpack from your back, setting it down onto the countertop beside the sink with a soft thunk . The sound of the zipper being undone was loud in your ears, contrasting with how quiet the clinic was as you opened the main compartment of your bag, but you kept your focus on the task of grabbing everything you could as quickly as you could. 

With your bag open and your left hand shining the flashlight onto the cabinet’s shelves, you set your knife down beside your bag on the counter. Hurriedly you began to swipe item after item, tossing each one into your backpack one after the other. You figured if there were items like these still here in this room, there was hope that something even more useful might be found in a supply closet somewhere. 

Though while you frantically continued to fill your bag with medical supplies, you’d admittedly become so distracted by your thoughts of what else you might find that you hadn’t realized you weren’t alone anymore. It wasn’t until the walker lurking nearby had come up behind you, latching onto your shoulders with its partially decaying hands in a grip that felt far too strong for anything other than a newly turned undead, that you’d accidentally startled and screamed. In your fright, your hand bumped your knife that you’d set onto the counter and it proceeded to fly off the countertop, landing with a loud clatter by your feet and entirely out of your reach.

Struggling against the walker's grip on you as it shoved you further forward, the countertop biting uncomfortably into your stomach, you heard more rasping and growling coming from nearby. Your hand flew backwards, trying to smash the walker’s head in with the butt of your flashlight, but its skull was considerably more solid than a walker that had been decomposing for far longer than this one. A wash of fear ran through you when you realized your flashlight wasn’t going to be able to save you right now.

Still struggling to remain out of the reach of the walker’s teeth, your hand precariously placed against the thing’s unnaturally pale forehead, you tried with all your strength to shove it backwards. But that familiar sound of more loud, rasping, growls soon met your ears once again–this time louder. Seconds later there were more walkers shuffling in through the door, the movement catching your eye. In your unfortunate moment of distraction, the walker you’d been trying so hard to hold back leaned forward just enough to sink its teeth onto your wrist and clamp down hard.

A scream ripped its way up through your chest, tearing its way shrilly out of your mouth as the walker bit off a chunk of flesh and muscle. Hot, fresh blood began gushing its way down your arm as visceral pain shot through your body so blindingly powerful that you hadn’t even noticed the other walkers already descending on you. Though soon you felt their hungry hands grabbing at your arms and your back just before another sharp burst of searing agony cut through you when a second set of teeth dug into your back, just below your left shoulder. You cried out, warm tears spilling forth as realization set in.

They were going to eat you alive.

A third set of teeth snapped at your neck, a strangled cry weakly flying out of you as it clamped down hard on your skin. More of your blood began to soak you as the thing tore away another mass of your flesh, the coppery tang of it strong in the air. But as the bodies of the dead continued to press you further into the corner, keeping you trapped as they continued to tear into you, you swore you heard Daryl’s voice calling your name. Your eyelids slowly fluttered shut at the sound of it, your mind trying to focus on that instead of the hands and teeth repeatedly clawing and biting at you.

But just as you’d tried to focus on his familiar and comforting voice, another set of teeth latched onto the side of your jaw and a scream shot itself out of you yet again when the walker’s mouth viciously pulled .

Eyes flying wide open, your heart was fiercely pounding away against the confines of your ribcage, thrumming so hard that you could feel it in your throat. Your body was covered in a sheen of cold sweat, the sheets beneath you noticeably damp against your slickened skin. Gasping and wheezing for air, your hands fisted the soft cotton sheets that felt so wrong in this world, though it took your mind a moment longer to register that your right hand had actually tightened around someone else's instead of fabric. A second after that you noticed the weight of a hand gently residing on your bicep and your pulse swiftly escalated further as your head darted to the side along the pillow, expecting to find a walker holding you down on the bed with its rotted and discolored teeth barred in hunger at you.

Instead you saw Daryl kneeling beside you at almost eye level. His long dark hair was its usual disheveled and dirty state on his head, a few of the strands falling into his face. The corners of his eyes were creased in concern as they focused on you, his face contorted into worry despite the thin line of his lips. Even through the darkness of your bedroom, you couldn’t miss the panic and fear written so plainly on his face.

"Hey, hey," he soothed in that familiar gravelly voice. "'S'me. You're alright. Just a dream."

Swallowing hard, you continued to pant heavily while attempting to calm the racing of your heart, Daryl’s hand reassuringly squeezing yours as you inhaled a shuddering breath. As usual, your nightmare tonight had been disturbingly vivid and it required a minute for you to remind yourself that it had only just been a dream. You’d been having them for weeks now almost nonstop, though you’d first begun to have them back when the dead had initially begun to rise. But you’d quickly noticed that they didn’t trouble you whenever Daryl was around, especially once the two of you had long since stopped dancing around your feelings for each other and become a couple. 

Usually you’d spent most nights at his side, comfortably and safely curled up against his solid and reassuring body. You used to fall asleep to the even sound of his breath in your ears and the warmth of him against you. But he’d been restless ever since Negan had been dealt with and Sanctuary had fallen. He’d been spending all of his time outside of the looming walls of Alexandria helping Rick and the others with whatever he could, clearly trying to work through some of his own shit–or trying to ignore it. Occasionally, every few days, he’d stop back in Alexandria to deliver whatever food he’d caught and stay the night with you. Though the last time he had done that was so long ago now that you couldn’t exactly remember how long ago it had actually been. 

And he absolutely refused to take you with him. Always telling you that you were safer here , behind the walls and in the community. With everyone else. But the truth was that you missed him. Missed his comforting presence being such a constant around you. You hated pretending that life was safe and peaceful and perfect in this little community day in and day out with its electricity and showers and fancy home decor. It resembled a life you’d had once, one that was long gone. You worried it was making you soft, wearing you and the others down to something weak . 

That fear was what you figured had restarted your nightmares here. Your dreams always involved you or someone else–often Daryl–making a stupid mistake and getting themselves torn apart by the dead. Or of an invading group coming in and taking over, easily picking all of you off one by one because you’d become too trusting and naive in your communities.

But you figured the nightmares had also restarted because of the distance it felt like Daryl was putting between the pair of you, both physically and emotionally. You barely saw him anymore. It felt like you were losing him and that terrified you. Though of course you never told him that, too afraid that such blunt honesty would fully send him running from you. You never told him about the nightmares, either. The only one you’d confided any of that with was Carol.

Carol.

She must’ve said something to Daryl if he was here right now, kneeling beside your bed and silently staring at you with that pained expression on his handsome face. There was no other reason he’d have shown up in the middle of the night like this. He only ever showed up in the afternoons when the day was half over.

“Hey,” you greeted him awkwardly, breaking the uncomfortable silence.

“Hey,” his deep voice rasped out. “Heard ya screamin’ from downstairs.”

“Right,” you whispered, eyes dropping down to where his hands were still holding onto you. “Had a nightmare, that’s all.”

Daryl grunted out a noise in response. You could feel the way his eyes were fixed on you right now, studying you carefully. The weight of his stare was beginning to make you anxious and unsure of what to say next.

“Carol said you’ve been havin’ ‘em for a while now,” he said a moment later. “How come ya didn’t tell me ‘bout ‘em?”

“Can’t really talk to you when you’re not here.”

The words had left your mouth before you even had a chance to stop them. Sucking in a sharp breath, your eyes darted back up to his face. Obvious hurt was etched across his features in the dim moonlight slipping past the curtains. You opened your mouth to apologize and take the words back, terrified you’d just made the mistake of upsetting him and sending him running off on his bike and avoiding you for days on end, but his reaction surprised you.

“You’re right,” he muttered guiltily. “Haven’t been here with ya much lately 'cause I been busy helpin' Rick.”

For a moment you laid there stunned, mouth still hanging open as you gaped at him. That was absolutely not the response you’d have expected from him. Daryl usually growled and got angry, disappearing for days on end, leaving you without a word while he attempted to process his emotions and thoughts. You had never liked when he did that, rare as it often had been lately, but you knew he had a complicated past which had often complicated his ability to discuss emotions and feelings, even with you. It was why you hadn’t said anything about his disappearances, choosing to bottle up your own feelings instead. You already saw him so infrequently, you didn’t want to risk him disappearing for even longer periods of time.

But it seemed like right now you were both about to discuss his growing absence, no longer able to put it off. And for some reason that only had nerves twisting and roiling uncomfortably in your stomach, afraid this wasn’t a conversation that would end well. 

“Why?” you asked him timidly, pushing yourself slowly upright in the bed. “Are you…not wanting to do this anymore? With me?”

Daryl’s face twisted into a look of confusion and shock at your question. The sight of him so taken off guard by that idea helped ease a bit of your nerves, though you still felt the way your stomach was knotting inside of you in anticipation of his answer.

“What?” he asked sharply, eyes narrowing in disbelief at you.

He shook his head, his hands finally releasing their hold on you as he abruptly pushed off the bed, rising back up to his full height. He paced his way towards the other side of the room, his eyes downcast as he faced the curtained window, running a hand through his hair. You frowned at his back.

“No. That–that isn't why I been gone so much,” he replied gruffly.

“Then why won’t you let me come with you?” you asked quickly, tossing the sheets off of yourself. “Why do you demand I stay here? Without you? You know I prefer staying in camps with you, Daryl. Being by your side. Know that I also feel caged and confined when I’m here just like you do. Why’re you pushing me away?”

“I ain’t pushin' ya away!” he snapped, turning around back towards you. 

You hesitated on the edge of the bed, your feet just brushing the floor. Daryl was standing across the room from you, his shoulders heaving visibly in the darkness. You’d touched on something, that much was obvious from his outburst. 

“So then why?” you asked him softly, slowly rising to your feet. “Because I–I miss you, Daryl,” you confessed, tentatively padding along the wood floor towards him, afraid to move too fast and scare him off. "It feels like I'm losing you."

“‘M right here,” he gruffly replied.

“Yeah,” you agreed slowly, continuing to gradually make your way towards him, the air cold against your still sweat-dampened skin. “For now. Until you hop on your bike in the morning and leave me for another few days.”

“I ain’t leavin' ya,” he shot back.

“You sure about that?” you asked, unable to hide the frustration in your voice. “Because you always tell me to stay here and then run off without me.”

“Safer here,” he muttered, his eyes dropping back down to the floor. “Told ya that already.”

You scoffed, crossing your arms over your chest. That was always his explanation and it was getting old.

“Safer than what , Daryl?” you snapped.

“Then out there!” he growled, throwing a hand towards the window. “You’re safer here , behind the damn walls with the others lookin’ out for ya! I just wanna keep ya safe , alright? Why’s that gotta be a goddamn problem?” 

“Don’t you miss me? At all?” you asked him, emotion thick in your voice.

His shoulders dropped a bit at your question, the anger visibly dissipating from him. He reached a hand up, rubbing it across his mouth as he nodded once.

“‘Course I miss ya,” he said, tone noticeably softer. “Miss ya every goddamn day. Miss your smile and your laughter. Even miss your smartass jokes,” he confessed, the corner of your lip gradually curling upwards at his admission. “Miss your inability to be quiet for more than a damned minute, even if I don’t miss the way ya always scare off whatever 'm trackin'.”

Biting your lip, you laughed lightly. The sound drew a faint smile onto Daryl’s mouth, his eyes rising up to linger along your face in the darkness.

“I don’t scare them off that often,” you said.

“Manage to scare off rabbits whenever I take ya with me,” he countered.

“Well,” you replied slowly, “rabbits are cute.”

“And I got a lotta mouths to feed,” he pointed out. “Don’t matter what’s cute if we can eat it.”

You sighed, rubbing a hand across your forehead. As nice as it was playfully arguing with him again–something you had certainly missed–this wasn't what you needed to talk about at the moment. And judging by the way Daryl awkwardly shifted his weight between his feet, suddenly growing quiet, he was aware of that, too.

“You know keeping me here doesn’t necessarily make me safer than anywhere else, right?” you asked quietly. “Here, with you at a camp, any of the other settlements. Hell, you could lock me in a tower, Dixon, and still something could happen to me.”

“‘Cause ya act without thinkin’,” he grumbled.

You shook your head, hugging your arms tighter around yourself. “Not the point,” you told him. “The point is: anything can happen to me anywhere .”

Daryl grunted, his body tensing up at your words. You saw the slight crease form between his brows as his eyes narrowed back at you once again.

“That s’posed to make me feel better?” he asked, an edge to his tone. "'Cause it don't."

“No,” you answered. “No, but my point is that it doesn’t matter where I am, nowhere is guaranteed to be safe anymore. And I would rather be by your side where I feel safest, Daryl," you told him 

Hesitantly you uncrossed your arms, lightly placing your hands on his chest, just over his vest. The leather felt cold beneath your palms, a chill running through you. Daryl’s own hands carefully landed on your hips when you shuddered, his touch instinctively causing you to take a step closer to him.

"What the hell is the point of keeping me safe if I’m not with you, anyway? I miss you,” you continued, attempting to swallow the lump forming in your throat. “You’re the only good thing left in this world to me. The only person I want to spend my days with, Daryl. Who knows how much longer any of us have anymore. And you keep taking that time together away from the both of us everytime you leave me behind."

"Not tryin' to do that," he whispered. "Wasn't tryin' to make ya feel unwanted, neither."

"Then take me with you," you practically begged. "Tomorrow when you leave again. Please. I can help with whatever Rick wants, but when I go to sleep at night I want to lay my head down next to you, Daryl. Every night. For however many nights we have left."

Daryl’s eyes narrowed back at you, quietly contemplating your request as he chewed his lip. Gradually your hands slid their way up his solid chest until you could wrap your arms around his neck, drawing him closer to you. 

"Don't you…want that, too?" you questioned him nervously.

His left hand released your hip, instead rising to gently grip your chin between his fingers. He carefully tilted your face further up towards his, his gaze locked on yours so intensely that you felt the prickle of goosebumps along your bare forearms. It took every ounce of self-control not to close the space between you both and kiss him.

"Want ya always," he muttered. "'S'why I wanted ya here. Safe."

He paused, his brows twitching together briefly as if he was struggling to find the words to say more. You stood there with your arms still snuggly wrapped around his neck, quiet and patient as you gave him the time he needed, desperately hoping he would say whatever it was that you could clearly see was on his mind. 

“I just don’t wanna lose ya,” he eventually admitted, fingers releasing your chin as his hand slid back to gently cup your cheek. “Couldn’t stand it if somethin’ happened to ya. And after everythin’ that just happened–all that shit with Sanctuary and Negan–it just–just…”

He trailed off, his eyes closing as he winced like he was in pain. The corner of your mouth tugged downwards, your heart aching at the sight of his inner struggle. He continued before you had a chance to say anything though, his calloused thumb lightly stroking your cheekbone as his gaze fixed back on you.

“But ya got a point,” he said. “I been missin’ ya. A lot. ‘S’just not right without ya with me, but I was tryin’ to do right by ya. Keep ya safe ‘stead of bein’ selfish.”

“That’s not being selfish, Daryl, it’s called living,” you countered gently. 

He grunted in assent as he nodded slowly. “Alright,” he murmured. “I’ll take ya with me tomorrow. Rick’s got somethin’ he needs me to do. Could probably do with another set of hands.”

Teeth clamping down on your bottom lip, you attempted to fight the smile growing on your lips as a thrill shot through you–at his agreement to bring you with him and because something else was now very much on your mind with his close proximity to you. One of your brows quirked up at Daryl and he huffed out an amused breath, shaking his head at you.

“What?” he asked, a small grin on his face.

Your mouth curved upwards mischievously. “I could think of something else you might need another set of hands for,” you answered coyly.

He snorted out a laugh instantly, his eyes creasing at the corners. You laughed lightly along with him, unable to resist whenever you heard that rare sound of joy coming from him.

“Goddamit, woman,” he said, still grinning back at you. “Always got one thing on your mind.”

“Don’t tell me you don’t, either,” you teased. “I mean I did say I missed you. And it has been a bit.”

“Yeah, yeah. C’mere,” he muttered, pulling you towards him with the hand still cupping your cheek. 

He quickly closed the remaining distance between the pair of you, connecting his mouth to yours in a sweet, gentle kiss full of so much feeling and tenderness. You could feel the way he’d missed you just from the way his mouth was moving against yours. Though it still never ceased to amaze you how soft and loving his kisses and touches were for a man with such a rough exterior. 

With Daryl fully filling your senses–his muscled body pressed flush to the front of yours, the scent of leather, gasoline, and sweat filling your nose, the wet sounds of your mouths connecting over and over loud in your ears, and the taste of him on your tongue–it didn’t take long for you to lose yourself entirely in him, a heat beginning to grow between your thighs as his mouth finally began to give in to your eager and hungry one. As you continued to kiss, your hands wandering into his hair while his began to wander over your body, you could feel his growing arousal stirring against your thigh, the pressure of it only encouraging you. 

Which was why you were surprised when he broke away from your mouth after a few minutes, the sound of both of you breathing heavily filling the otherwise silent bedroom. You sent him a silent, questioning look as your chest heaved, wondering if you’d done something wrong.

“Should talk ‘bout those nightmares,” he whispered.

“Later,” you promised, hands tangling into his hair. “Right now I just want you.”

“Told ya already,” he murmured, leaning in to lightly kiss you once more. “‘M right here.”

Tugging his mouth back down towards yours, you began to walk both of you backwards, leading him towards the bed as your hands began to slide the leather vest from off his shoulders. The only comfort you wanted right now was the kind he provided each time his mouth lovingly lingered along your skin, the way his hands affectionately touched you in ways you couldn’t explain, and the way he filled you and made you feel whole, always reminding you of what you’d gained in this world instead of what you’d lost.

[midnight-rain-fics]

Bad kind of butterflies

{Fandom: Grishaverse}

{Pairing: Kaz Brekker x fem! reader}

Summary: Y/N and Kaz get tangled in a web of unspoken truths and it falls upon them to tangle themselves before they fall and stumble.

A/N: I have nothing to say for myself. I wrote this whole fic just because of this freaking gif. This is purely self indulgent but enjoy I guess.

“I got bad, bad kind of butterflies in my chest

There's something I gotta confess

Yes, somebody's stuck in my head”

Y/N had been a new but welcome addition to the crows, or so Kaz had believed until she had unknowingly become a thorn in his side. His chest constricted every time he saw her, and it became difficult to breathe whenever she was around.

She was oblivious to the fact, of course. The only one who had any idea of these stirrings of his was Nina, who always side eyed him whenever Y/N entered any room he was in.

Despite his best efforts, his eyes always seemed to seek out hers and his heart jolted whenever he looked at her wide eyes.

He truly could not stop his eyes from travelling to that plush bottom lip that was more often than not trapped between pearly white teeth. Just like it was now.

Kaz pushed the thought, along with several others just like it, into that dark corner of his mind and barred the gate. He needed to focus.

"Kaz?" Y/N questioned, looking at him nervously, her wrists clutching each other behind her back, twisting together.

How had she pulled him so deep in? Even after being in Barrel for months now, she had no jagged edges. She was supposed to be everything he hated. Soft, fragile, vulnerable.

And oh so, beautiful.

Damnit.

Kaz looked up from the paperwork he was supposedly working on and looked up to meet her gaze, "Yes, what can I do for you?"

"The others wanted to know if you would be joining us for drinks"

"And you volunteered to come get me, Y/N?"

"Didn't really have a choice" Y/N mumbled, without looking at him.

"Oh, so you don't want me to join you?" Kaz raised an eyebrow, watching in silent amusement as she shuffled her feet, mouth already opening in protest. He nodded, "Duly noted."

"That's not what I meant!" Y/N protested, her eyes widening a little at her own volume. She cleared her throat, her voice soft as she looked down at her feet, "You know that's not what I mean"

"Do I?"

Y/N sighed, not meeting his eyes. Irritation pricked at her like it always did when Kaz tormented her. She was sure he got some amusement by testing her resolve.

She would never admit how much she liked it.

Kaz stood up, closing the distance between them until he stood in front of her, hands clutching his crow-headed cane.

He leaned down his head, causing Y/N's eyes to meet his, "Use your words, little bird"

"I-" Y/N opened her mouth and closed it again. She closed her eyes and took another deep breath before meeting Kaz’s eyes, "Are you coming, then?"

"Do you want me to?"

"Yes"

Kaz took a step back and gave her a long look, and Y/N’s skin thrummed with the feeling of being the centre of his attention. Unaware of her thoughts, Kaz nodded, "I'll get my coat then"

"What happened?" Kaz walked into the living room of the Slat, his eyes landing on Jesper who was supporting an exhausted Wylan. It wa supposed to be a simple job and yet somehow, something had gone wrong.

His eyes searched for Y/N but she was nowhere to be seen.

"Y/N got hurt,” Those three words were enough to make Kaz’s heart collapse in on itself. Jesper continued, not noticing Kaz’s dilemma, “Nina is tending to her"

Kaz nodded and with his heart pounding in his ears, made his way towards Y/N's room. He stood in the doorway, watching Nina heal Y/N.

Nina cast him a meaningful glance, that he promptly ignored, and continued tending to Y/N’s shoulder which had the faint markings of a stab wound.

Breath seemed to return to Kaz’s lungs as Nina finished healing the wound, the skin knitted together as if there had never been a wound there. Y/N had her lips pressed together, unshed tears lining her long lashes.

Nina pressed a kiss to Y/N’s temple and bid them farewell, but not before she wiggled her eyebrows suggestively at Kaz, nodding in Y/N’s direction.

With the patience that came with dealing with Jesper and Nina’s antics for far too long, Kaz ignored her as she left and looked towards Y/N who had finally let her tears fall.

"Does it still hurt?"

"No" Y/N mumbled, wiping at her cheeks with the back of her hand even as a new wave of tears streamed down her cheeks.

Kaz took a few steps forward and sat down at the side of her bed. His cane was firmly clutched in his left hand as he took out a handkerchief from his coat and handed it out to Y/N.

Y/N sniffled, wiping away the remaining tears, and then proceeding to hide her face with the handkerchief, "this is embarrassing"

"No need to worry, little bird, you embarrass yourself on the daily. I am used to it" Kaz's lips tugged into a faint smirk when Y/N whined in embarrassment.

"That's even worse"

Kaz stood up, and nudged Y/N's thigh with his cane, catching her eyes, "Get some rest"

Y/N nodded and watched him leave with a heavy heart. It was always so confusing, this game of tug of war between them. Y/N was afraid to tug too hard while Kaz kept tugging her close, making her lose her footing.

He knew she was bound to fall. She didn't dare to hope he would catch her.

"What the fuck was that?"

Y/N closed her eyes and breathed deeply. The sound of Kaz's harsh voice grated in her ears, making her heart pound in anxiety. Her instincts screamed at her to leave his office.

The heist had gone wrong. So very wrong. And Y/N had nearly gotten herself shot. Once the adrenaline had worn off, Y/N had grown numb with the realization of what had almost happened.

"I-" Y/N started, choking down her nerves, hands fiddling with the rings on her finger as she looked up at him.

Kaz's eyes blazed with hot fury as he took a step towards her, caging her between himself and his desk, "Do you have no regard for your own safety?"

"I am fine, Kaz"

"You could have died" Kaz gritted out, his grip near painful on his cane. He could have lost her. If he had been a moment too late, she would be gone.

The waters rose and Kaz gripped the beak of the crow-headed cane to ground himself. She was here. Y/N was here. And she was alive.

Never again would he let her put herself in danger.

"But I didn't! And I knew what I was doing" Y/N's excuses fell on deaf ears. Kaz clenched his jaw in anger and took another step forward.

"Did you? Or are you so self-absorbed that you think you know best? Do you even care what would have happened to the rest of the crows if you didn't make it?" Each word that left Kaz’s lips was dipped in poison, seeping into her skin with deadly accuracy.

"You're being cruel, Kaz" Y/N whispered, bottom lip caught in between her teeth as she bit into it. It was a bad habit. But the pain have her something to focus on. Something other than the intensity of Kaz’s furious gaze.

"And you're being a brat, Y/N" Kaz whispered, head tilting down to stare into her eyes. For once, he didn’t break eye contact. He couldn’t, not when the fear of losing her was so fresh in his mind.

Y/N looked down, Kaz’s disappointment weighing down on her. It made her nauseous, “I am sorry"

"No, I don't think you are" Kaz whispered, his voice cold and cutting as he rested tapped the side of her calf with his cane, his restraint slowly slipping, "I think you're just a brat who needs to be taught a lesson”

"Kaz" Y/N inhaled sharply, her heart beating so loudly that she wouldn’t be surprised if Kaz heard it.

"You should leave, Y/N" Kaz said, closing his eyes and taking a deep breath. He gathered the last fraying threads of his self-restraint. It was up to her now. She could leave and they could go back to the line they hadn’t crossed yet.

Kaz knew greed. He knew it as he gazed at Y/N, so intensely, as if he might steal the very image of her beauty if he tried hard enough.

But Desire was a different game. Kaz toed the line of desire with Y/N on the daily, only in the confines of his own mind. But he never dared to cross it. He never dared to let that dream of desire fester into reality. Until now.

Y/N nodded but she made no move to leave, eyes roaming Kaz's face. She was committing him to her memory, all the sharp edges of his face and the soft cushions of his lips.

Though she might never get to touch this jagged edged masterpiece, at this moment it was hers to admire. For this moment, he was hers.

Kaz reached behind her and Y/N held her breath as he untied the white ribbon holding her hair together. Y/N watched in fascination as Kaz wrapped the ribbon around his two fingers, the white silk of her ribbon was a stark contrast against the black leather of his gloves.

With the thick ribbon wrapped around his pointer and middle finger, Kaz tapped Y/N’s bottom lip, making her gasp and stop her abuse on her lip and release it from between her teeth.

The touch was gone as soon as it came and all Y/N could do was stare at him, wide-eyed. Kaz made no move to step away, "You are not going to make reckless decisions again, understand?"

“Yes,” Y/N nodded dumbly, feeling a blush creep up her cheeks. She felt lightheaded and delusional. She reached back and placed a hand on Kaz’s desk so as to not stumble and fall into him.

That would be very, very bad. And it would break whatever fragile thing had blossomed between them. Though this time, she had a feeling he might just catch her, if only with his cane and silk ribbons on his fingers.

"You are not allowed to leave me, little bird" Kaz stroked the ends of her unbound hair that had fallen around her shoulders. His rough voice sent a shiver down her spine.

"I won't" Y/N mumbled, eyes shining bright with words she couldn’t say yet, "Promise"

Kaz’s lips turned up into a faint outline of a smirk, “Good girl”

[authorhjk1]

First of all, Happy New Year!

Second, holy fuck, Midnight..the idea of ending and starting a year with fucking arguably the 3 best milkers is just wild, and while a small part of me wishes you could've explore more into the foursome action and some gxg between them as well, overall it was still smoking hot, considering the timing as well releasing this right at the end of the year with the theme of fucking them 3 to end the year is quite a nice touch honestly..and that Karina sequence especially was so fucking amazing,really,thank you for such an amazing fic to close 2023 and welcome 2024..

Last but not least, looking forward for your next works too, but do take your time and no need to rush things,good luck too for all the things you do in life and i'll patiently wait for you to drop the next one whenever you have the time too,best of luck and take care!

Happy new year to you as well!

Hope you like this small scene:

You watch as Jihyo takes the condom out of your hand. Getting distracted for a moment by Karina's lips, which wrap around the tip of your cock, you almost miss out on the sight in front of you.

Standing in the door to the bathroom, you can see Jihyo walking into the shower. Eunbi is inside, sitting in a pool of warm water and her own juices. And probably Karina's as well. Her eyes are only half open, her wet hair sticking to her face, shoulders and the tiles of the wall behind her.

Too tired to react, Eunbi feels how Jihyo pulls at her jaw, forcing her mouth to open. Tilting the condom in her hand, she let's your cum fall onto the breathless Eunbi. A small puddle of cum lands on her lips and mouth, before Jihyo cheekily, changes the angle. The rest of your sperm lands on the older girl's tits.

"Oops. My bad."

Jihyo coos as she chuckles, Eunbi too drained to defend herself.

A groan escapes your lift as Karina keeps sucking you off. Her hand holds onto your base, slowly stroking it, while her lips run along your length.

By the way her eyes are closed, you can tell how much she enjoys the taste of Eunbi's slick on your cock.

"Are you getting him hard enough for me? That's so sweet of you."

Jihyo is standing behind the youngest, who's eyes are now open in surprise and anger.

"(Y/n) just wrecked your pussy again. It's my turn, greedy slut."

Karina pouts as you glance at the window. It used to be completely fogged, due to the steam of the hot water coming from the shower. But Karina's face, which is completely wet by now, cleaned the window nicely. You pressed her against it as you took her from behind. The puddle of her cum is still staining the floor and parts of the windowsill.

Jihyo pulls at Karina's hair, making the younger hiss in pain as she gets forced off your cock.

"You better fuck me good, baby boy."

Jihyo takes you hand and walks out of the bathroom, just like Karina did a few hours ago.

Jihyo's tits feel like heaven. They are tightly wrapped around your cock as she kneels in front of you, while you lie on the bed. Her soft mounds move up and down, sandwiching your cock in between.

Karina is lying next to you, Eunbi's head buried between her thighs. The youngest moans as the oldest fucks her pussy with her tongue. Eunbi was shy about it at first, but is now getting into it. Karina's hands try to hold onto something, until they find your body. Her nails dig painfully into the skin on your arm and chest.

"Are you gonna shoot your load all over mommy's tits, baby?"

You are barely able to nod. Jihyo has a good eye, you are already close.

She spits into her cleavage, enabling her to move up and down your length even faster.

"Good boys always cum on their mommy's boobs."

Jihyo's eyes are fixated on yours as she tries to predict the exact moment in which you're gonna cum.

Next to you, Karina's moans have reached another high and so does her body. Her thighs trap Eunbi's head in place as she cums on the older girl's face.

"Unnie!"

Her sweet voice makes the word sound lewd and erotic.

It slowly pushes you over the edge as well.

"Cum for us. Jizz all over my tits."

You finally follow Jihyo's order.

You start exploding, your load coating her chest with your cum. She moans in satisfaction, feeling the warm liquid on her skin.

"That's a good boy."

She sighs, letting your cock fall out of the space between her tits.

Eunbi was able to force her head out of Karina's pussy by now. She is now straddling you, impaling herself on your cock. The sudden penetration makes you groan.

"Please breed me, baby."

She moans loudly.

"Can you get me pregnant?"

That whispered question makes you hard immediately. You are suddenly aware that Eunbi is riding you. Raw.

_____

Thank you for always reading my stuff, I will make sure to keep writing as soon as possible.

Stay healthy!

[sunlightmurdock]

The Parent Trap | 0.4 | Bradley Bradshaw x Reader

Previous Chapter | Next Chapter | Masterlist

♡ In which, after a couple of years of listening to Peyton and Parker Bradshaw complain about their parents’ custody agreement, Grandpa Mav’s meddling goes a little bit too far.

♡ warnings: mentions of divorce throughout the fic, flashbacks to arguments and unhappily married people. Idiots who still love each other and don’t know it, drinking / being drunk, flashbacks and references to sex, minors dni, wc: 4.8k

…

“I’m not being mean, I just think he smells weird,” Parker decides with a shrug, moving the little silver dog six spaces and narrowly missing her sister’s monopoly of hotels on the right side of the board. She lifts her gaze and looks at you, just daring you to challenge her logic. “It’s not mean if I’m just saying what I think.”

Peyton’s lips twitch as she shakes the dice in her hand, but she doesn’t add any commentary this time. You narrow your eyes across at your outspoken daughter, finding so much of your ex-husband in the amusedly defiant way she stares back at you.

“What does he smell like, then, Parks?” You challenge.

“Wood.” She answers with a shrug as her sister rolls a solid twelve and picks up the thimble to skip along the board in front of her. Peyton pokes her tongue out in concentration, like it’ll do anything to prevent her solid twelve from landing her right on the Go To Jail space. She growls in frustration and falls back dramatically onto the carpeted floor. She has spent most of this round in jail. You’re beginning to feel sorry for her, but it’s hard when she has some of the best properties and a business strategy that should probably concern you as a parent.

“Well, he is a carpenter.” You remind her, picking the dice up and shaking them in your hand. With that, the man in question rounds the corner with two glasses and two juice boxes balancing in his hands and a smile plastered across his face. This is now the fourth time that Chris has met your children, the first being a month ago.

He seems to be growing on them if Parker is actively trying not to be mean this time. You still haven’t gotten your girls to ‘fess up as to which one of them buried his phone in the backyard like a wild dog. Like you wouldn’t notice when your hydrangeas started ringing.

“Here we go, an apple, an orange, and two coffees.” Chris hands out the drinks and struggles bending his remarkably inflexible legs into a crisis-crossed shape. They made him be the phone piece — you’re certain that it’s to taunt him about the burying incident — but he’s being a champ about it.

Peyton looks down at her drink and hums, “I don’t want apple anymore. I’ll take an orange juice, big guy.”

In the years since you last hung out with Maverick, it’s so easy to miss the little Mitchell-isms working their way into your kids’ vocabulary. Your head whips around, far more concerned with what she said rather than where she got it from. Chris turns his head towards her, opens his mouth and quickly shuts it again, readying himself to get back up. Your eyes widen as you turn to find your eight year old smiling back at you.

“Then go and get an orange juice, P. Don’t be rude.” You correct her with a stern frown. Suddenly, the apple juice isn’t as much of an issue. She stabs the straw through the hole with her eyes narrowed in Chris’ direction, but this is still a big improvement from last time.

This was never going to be easy, but in the weeks since you introduced your girls to your boyfriend, you have to admit that you thought it would be easier than this. You’ve never heard either one of the girls talk about their dad as much as they do when Chris is in the room.

“Dad knows that she prefers orange.”

“Well, she asked Chris for an apple juice and that’s what she got.” It’s hard not to grow tired when you know it must be wearing him down too. You take the dice and drop them suddenly into Chris’ toughened palm. He softens in comparison, simply smiling back at you.

“So, did you guys get up to anything fun when you were at your dad’s last weekend?” He tries. If they want to talk about their dad, he doesn’t mind — he gets it. It makes you feel even worse.

“Yeah.” Payton deadpans, staring across at him like dirt on her shoe. “What did you two do while we were gone?”

Your head turns towards her again. Chris answers coolly.

“Your Mom sold that new dress she was working on. Cool, right? — We went out to dinner to celebrate that. Other than that, it’s pretty quiet around here without you guys.”

He’s looking at the board, busy moving his piece. He doesn’t know your children the way that you do. He misses entirely the split-second in which they glance across at each other. They find you narrowing your eyes at them.

At once, they’re saved by your ringtone. Another glance is shared between the two of them as you push up from the floor and head for the hallway to answer your call. In your absence, Chris’ piece lands on Peyton’s Park Row property, with the hotel sitting on top.

His brown eyes flicker up to find the eight-year old staring at him expectantly.

“You know the rules. Cough up.” She demands, in a tone she knows she isn’t allowed to be talking in. By the look on their little faces, Chris almost instinctively reaches for his real wallet rather than the colourful little notes sitting beside him.

When you walk back into the room, the first thing that you notice is the silence. Looking between the twins and your boyfriend, your frown deepens. “What’s going on?”

“Chris lost. He’s out of money.” Peyton explains calmly, flicking through her stack of ones like she’s Vito Corleone all of a sudden. Chris turns to look at you and simply wiggles his eyebrows, giving a shrug of defeat as he moves to stand.

As much as you find reflections of your ex-husband in them every day, it tugs at your heartstrings to see pieces of yourself in them too.

“You okay?” He asks, cupping the back of your neck, craning his neck to look at your face. Your palm catches his arm, sitting against his bicep as he pulls you closer.

Parker kicks her sister and they both turn their heads to watch.

You lower your voice to a whisper, fighting to keep the disappointment off of your face. “Yeah… The sitter just canceled.”

“Oh.” He sighs. You’ve been talking about this night for weeks, it’s not often that you get to go out with your friends now that you’ve all got grown-up commitments. “D’you think Bradley could watch them?”

“He’s out of town for a work thing.” You explain dejectedly, leaning in to Chris’ touch as he swipes your hair delicately back from your face.

Watching him hold you close, Parker starts to consider burying his phone once again. Or dropping it in the toilet. Or maybe pouring honey into his work boots that she saw by the front door.

Or maybe, if she was staying true to the source material, she could get him on a camping trip and push his mattress out into the middle of the lake. But he’s bigger than Meredith Blake was, and she’s smaller than Hallie Parker was.

The honey will do.

“I’ll watch ‘em.”

Bradley was out of town on a work thing. He was gone from Tuesday ‘til Friday, he told you that. He got in a little after nine and thought about having a beer, but didn’t. Instead, he just sat on his couch and tried to find a show that would keep him up long enough that he wouldn’t wake up at five in the morning.

He woke up at 1am, his neck stiff and the show two episodes ahead of where he thought it should be. Groaning, he had pushed himself off of the couch and decided to head to bed when he had gotten the text.

The conversation he had with Parker last weekend crossed his mind instantly. They had spent hours talking about fate; what is was, if they believed in it. If Bradley hadn’t startled himself awake by snoring, he would have missed the text completely.

He slipped his phone out of the pocket of his jeans with one hand, rubbing at his tired shoulder muscle with the other, squinting down at the bright screen.

Please pick me up from the Hard Deck when you see this.

He hasn’t ever made you ask twice.

Chris offering to watch the girls had come completely out of left field. It had almost caused a full-blown argument, but that man just seems impossible to get angry with. Stroking your hair and calming each one of your nerves step by step, he swore to you that he just wanted you to have a good time, that he could handle two little girls.

Bribing them was clearly the only way this was going to work, and it seemed like Chris had that in the bag. Emergency numbers set up and ready, allergy information written on the fridge and a borderline military debrief with your twins had left you practically trembling with anxiety, but had gotten you out of the house nonetheless.

You hadn’t planned on getting this drunk. The plan was to go, have a couple of drinks with your friends, and Uber home after a couple of hours. It never works out that way.

In fact, you can barely keep your head up straight when you hear one of your friends call out over the music. “Is that Rooster?”

Blinking doesn’t help you see straight. The loud music, and the bodies in the way, and the irregular lighting doesn’t help either. You squint and finally find him. Wearing jeans and a tight fitting black t-shirt, heading straight for you.

When you squint harder, you expect to realize that it’s not him.

“Rooster!” The second that he reaches you, your arms are around his neck and your chest is pressing into his. You haven’t hugged your ex-husband like this in a long time. “What are you doing here?”

He wrinkles his nose, untangling your arms from around him so that he can get a good look at your face. It’s been a long time since he saw you this dressed up. Hair, make-up, heels. The dress looks familiar but he can’t quite place it.

“You texted me.” He watches your eyelids falling shut, blinking heavily and irregularly as he explains to you. He steadies you by your arms. “You wanna go home?”

There’s a disgruntled groaning sound before you try to look around at your friends. At this point, Rooster makes an effort to be polite and greet them all. After all, they were his friends too, once. They’re all as shitfaced as you.

“Come on, mama. I’ll take you home,” He decides for you, hugging you against him like your own feet aren’t secure enough for his tastes anymore. You fall all too willingly against his chest, your cheek pressing into the fabric of his shirt while he tries to keep the attention of your friends. “Does anyone else need a ride?”

Maybe they do, maybe they don’t — maybe their own husbands will get up and come get them. Rooster won’t leave them without knowing they’ve got a way home, so you know that once you feel the outside chill on your skin he must have made arrangements for them.

He sighs quietly and jerks you as he tries to get a better grasp. Outside, you can finally hear him properly.

“Honey, you need to walk. Use your feet.” He tells you, despite all evidence pointing to the contrary. Your head is lulled against the swell of his shoulder, you haven’t moved your feet since he grabbed you, and yet you’re moving towards the car perfectly fine.

Everything is happening in chapters. You’re skipping ahead and losing parts, not paying attention to much. Things aren’t spinning yet, but they sure are blurry. You manage to talk back anyway.

“I don’t.” You answer, head turned towards the sky. It occurs to you, briefly, that you’re going to be horrifically embarrassed about this tomorrow. Your feet try, then trip, and his hold on you tightens.

“What did you drink? — You alright?” His arm around your waist pulls you closer, your head lulling off of his shoulder and awkwardly onto his moving chest. You hum contentedly.

“I had a good time.” You whisper.

He sighs something about you throwing up in his car and you’re faintly aware of the sound of a car door unlocking.

“C’mere, honey. Just sit right there. I’ve got some water. You wanna sit and get some fresh air with me?” Maybe there are pauses in between — maybe he says it all slower than that, but you can’t really focus. Or open your eyes.

You know that he has guided you to sit against the tailgate of the Bronco because of the way your feet dangle. As a mother, you hate this car. As a girl who fell in love with Bradley Bradshaw — fuck, you love this car.

“Wanna drink somethin’ for me?” Rooster offers the bottle to your mouth and winces as you draw your head sharply away from it. He grabs your shoulders and stops you from teetering over.

You’re not sure how, but you settle into his side and find that his arm remains there. Draped around your shoulders as you rest your head against him.

It takes a while, but Rooster gets you to drink. It’s anyone’s guess as to how long you sit on that tailgate sipping from that water bottle, but his arm around your shoulder feels nice anyway — even if he’s just rubbing your back because he thinks you’re going to puke.

When things start to come around a little more, you’re laying across the two backseats and hugging the water bottle like a teddy bear. Your head is spinning.

“You alright back there?” Rooster calls to you, making you frown slightly and lift your head. Passing by traffic lights and street signs, the world turned on its axis as you try to push yourself up and ultimately give in to staying laid down.

He’s really here. Some way or another, you really forced this man to carry you out of the bar and spend his Friday night babying you. You want to know if you called, or texted, or if he was just in the bar and saw you — you thought he was away for work — but that’s all too embarrassing still.

Your mind is too cloudy for that level of conversation, your words still don’t sound quite right.

“You even didn’t question it.” Your body sways as he pulls to a stop at a red light, your focal point on the soft top of the Bronco swaying with you and kickstarting that dizziness all over again. With a swallow, you close your eyes. The swaying continues like the leather seats below you are actually built into a speedboat as opposed to a seventies classic car.

“Did you put that seatbelt on yet?” His dad-voice comes from the front. Eyes still shut, this makes you smile. You don’t even remember him telling you to. He peers at you through the rear view mirror. “Question what?”

All you offer him is a small shrug, not interested in a seatbelt in the slightest in your current state. This next sentence requires a deep inhale first, but is interrupted by a hiccup. “I text you out of the blue and you just… show up. Didn’t even check to see if it was for you.”

Bradley bites at the inside of his cheek, brows drawing together as the light turns green and another check towards the mirror confirms that you still aren’t wearing a seatbelt. He huffs and the car pulls sharply to the side, making you groan in complaint.

The radio plays on as Bradley stops at the side of the road and unclips his own seatbelt, then gets out of the car. Your poor brain hasn’t even had time to catch up before he’s pulling the door open and half-climbing in. You blink as he appears over you.

With the door still open, he’s just illuminated by the street light. His eyes have always looked so soft in the dark. The slight pout of his lips, the sharpness of his jaw, the bump in his nose. He’d started out with the most innocent of intentions, but as he leans over you across the backseat, it becomes clear that you’re both struck by the same abrupt chord of familiarity.

This is far from the first time that the two of you have been in this position. In fact, this is exactly how things started out the first night you hooked up.

He swallows above you. There’s a wonderstruck look on your face that makes his ears burn red. Your eyes search over his face and with each inch they cover, he watches them flood with remembrance. Warm pink spreads across his cheek, extending down his chest. It makes your lips twitch to think you can still get him to blush.

“Come on, sit up.” Bradley whispers, gently taking each of your hands in his and pulling you upright. “Let’s put your seatbelt on.”

Silently, you don’t fight him on the matter and Bradley knows that’s a win in itself. It’s not the first time he’s had to wrangle you into this car after a few drinks either. Your eyes are just on him, and he swears that’s where the heat on his face is coming from. His fingers fumble to get the buckle into the clasp.

The second that he hears that click, he’s withdrawing from the backseat and climbing back into the driver’s side. You stare at the rear view mirror as he pulls away from the curb. In truth, you had forgotten how gentle he could be with you.

“Thank you.”

He glances up at the mirror, then back at the road.

“Thanks for picking me up. Sorry that I’m…” The pause facilitates a deep inhale that stops you from hiccuping mid-sentence. He watches you sheepishly ready yourself to continue. “Such a mess.”

This, makes him smile. It spreads across his face just as easily as the pink hue had, taking over his features.

“Honey, we both know I’ve seen worse.” Oh god, he remembers. He said it so casually too, like he’s reminiscing on a fond memory. The memory isn’t quite as fond for you, but then again, you don’t remember too much of it. He used to always tease you about it.

The night you met him was your twenty-first birthday, and you were flirting all night, but then you had gotten way too drunk and he had to carry you home — with you fighting him the whole way. He called you alley-cat for two months afterwards. Your feral behaviour had clearly caught his eye, though, because he started hanging around the Hard Deck a lot more afterwards.

Things hadn’t ever seemed that serious in the Hard Deck. Everything was easier back then. The career you have now is exactly what you wanted, but you can’t pretend that some days you wouldn’t rather have a handsome aviator leaning over a bar and telling you jokes to make your shift pass faster.

He takes one more look up at the mirror and smiles again, this time because he finds you already not trying to smile back at him.

“God, I had such a crush on you that summer.” The second that you’ve said it, you have to stop yourself from slapping a hand over your mouth. Closing your eyes will do. You can feel him staring either way.

It shouldn’t be weird to acknowledge. You were married for over five years. In love for a good while before that. Of course you had a crush on him originally. But it’s at the forefront of both of your minds that it still feels like yesterday that you were sprawled along this backseat, stomach bursting with butterflies as he unbuttoned your shorts for the first time.

The salt on his skin, the smell of his cologne mixed with sunscreen and sweat. The way his curls dry after he’s been in the ocean. The way the sunset hits the browns of his eyes. The freckles on his shoulders, dipping into the valleys between his muscles.

The brush of the same moustache you had been making fun of for months against the most sensitive parts of your skin and with it — the realisation that you actually loved that moustache.

Shivering through the late summer evening heat, whispering his name to the stars as his smart mouth worked between your legs. He drove around with the top down a lot back then.

He remembers everything about getting to know you. Getting taunted relentlessly by Hangman because of the way he blushed when you used to tell him his drink was on the house. Almost falling off of his stool craning his neck to get a better look at you behind the bar. Making sure you were invited to every beach outing. The first time he kissed you, and the way you were looking up at him before.

“Sorry, that was—“

“It’s alright.” He interrupts. When he closes his eyes at the next stop sign, all he can think of is the sight of your wet footsteps leading up the steps on his back porch. You had come from the beach. He had known he was going to find you in his shower inside. It was the first time he had ever come home to you. You were barely dating back then.

He looks at the mirror, wondering if you remember that time in the shower.

You’re not thinking about the shower. Fingers spread out, trailing the seams in the leather, you’re thinking about the last time you had sex in this car. So different from the first time. Bradley had known your body so much better, the two of you were so much more comfortable together.

The girls were with your parents for an entire weekend while the two of you were out of town for the wedding. Before the reception, Bradley had tugged you outside and bunched your pretty dress up around your middle. Closing your eyes and letting your fingers inch across the seats, you can still remember his breath fanning across his chest, the low grunts as he drove himself into you. His arms wrapped around your body, your forehead resting against his bicep and your legs around his waist.

“Rooster.” You rarely call him that anymore. It’s the first name you knew him by, since all of his work buddies called him that. Bradley was something that came letter, something that felt more for just the two of you. The last thing you would say most nights. Goodnight, Bradley. It’s been a long time since you said that, but you know it would feel just the same coming off of your tongue.

He hums from the front seat, but doesn’t look.

“Could I sit up front with you?”

“Yeah, sure— let me—“ Too late. He hears your seatbelt unbuckle and knows what’s coming next. Sure enough, as he’s going at a steady forty along Palm Avenue, you swing one foot unsteadily over the console and wobble in the direction of the passenger side. “Baby—“

It’s out of instinct, purely because you’re stressing him out. You plop down into the passenger seat and turn your head to look at him. Wordlessly, both of you decide to pretend you didn’t hear that.

For his peace of mind, you tug the seatbelt across your body and clip it in.

“We’re in so much trouble if the girls take after you.” He teases, the smile in his voice cutting through the tension. You giggle beside him.

“Me? — Do you not remember what happens when you get too familiar with a bottle of tequila?” You answer back, eyes closed and a silly smile on your face. You remember. You remember having to carry him, practically dead weight, into your bed from the living room and spend the night rubbing his back while he threw up the next morning.

“Yeah, we’re in big trouble.” Rooster scoffs, pushing his fingers through his hair. You stare across at the tattoo on the inside of his bicep as he rests his elbow against the door.

You’re still drunk enough to blame the alcohol when you reach across and take his free hand as he steadies the wheel with the other. His gaze flickers down as you loop your fingers through his. “We weren’t that bad.”

This time he laughs.

“We weren’t? — So you don’t remember—“ He’s still grinning when he stops himself, already turning into your street. You two don’t talk about that stuff anymore. You’ve moved on. Those funny little stories are private now, entirely his. Your boyfriend sure as hell wouldn’t want to hear them.

He looks over at you as he slows down to pull up to the curb.

You’re already looking across, staring at him with a look he hasn’t seen in a long time. The smile that you flash him makes him think of that first year. Then, you close your eyes and exhale, “I remember everything.”

Even with the radio playing, there’s a silence that sits between the two of you as the car pulls to a stop. It’s at that point that everything in your orbit starts to spin, forcing you forwards and making you whimper. Bradley’s already out of the car and jogging around to your side as you catch your head in your hands and try to breathe.

“C’mere, honey. I’ve got you.” He reaches around you to unbuckle you from the car, pulling you out by your underarms and holding you against him as he shuts the door. It’s still not the most graceful procedure, but he’s gotten better at it. You’re not exactly making it easy for him as you wobble back and hit your head on the window.

“Oh shit, are you okay?” He breathes out.

“I wanna go to bed.” You complain, wobbling forwards and this time crashing into his chest. He secures one hand on the back of your head to keep you there, pretending like he isn’t checking whether or not you have a bump. Even now, he can’t seem to turn the dad-reflexes off. You sigh into his shoulder. “Take me to bed.”

His free hand finds your waist and he glances down, finally clocking where he remembers this dress from. You wore it the second night of your honeymoon. He remembers this dress very well — he used to carry a picture of you wearing it in his wallet. He’s ninety-percent sure that the twins were conceived because of this dress.

“Yeah, you’re going to bed, baby. Nearly there.” In truth, by the time he has carried you to the door, Rooster has almost forgotten that you have a boyfriend. He’s expecting the same sweet old lady that you’ve been hiring for years to answer the door. That’s why he makes no effort to peel you off of him.

Rooster stares at Chris, while Chris looks between the two of you. You’re barely awake and clinging to your ex-husband’s shirt, he’s holding you at the waist, keeping you standing. Chris looks barely awake, still fully dressed. Clearly a man who has been waiting to hear from you for hours.

“Is she alright? — What happened?” His reaction is positive. Rooster appreciates that much about him. Still, he can’t stop thinking about what Maverick said. If Chris becomes permanent, Bradley’s entire family becomes his.

“She just had too much to drink, she called me for a ride home. I gave her some water and stuff, but—“ Rooster starts to explain, propping you up and holding you halfway. It’s unclear if he’s supposed to just pass you over. He doesn’t know if this guy even knows where you keep the products you remove your make-up with.

“She called you?” Chris challenges. There it is. There’s the anger that Rooster was waiting for.

“I wouldn’t take it personally. She’s shitfaced. She just needs to get some sleep and—“

“Yeah,” Chris steps one foot outside and reaches for your waist. You fall compliantly towards him, the toe of your shoe dragging along the ground as he tucks your arm over his shoulder and props you up. “I’ve got her. Get home safe.”

Rooster’s face doesn’t give away anything. He’s not immature anymore. He wants you to find someone who can give you, and by default his kids, everything that you could ever need. That’s why he keeps his mouth shut. He can think whatever he wants.

“Sure, yeah. Can I just ask… uh… where’s the sitter?” He was so close to walking away and just getting back in his car, but it’s after two now. If that old lady is still here, she would have made it known. As sweet as she was, she loves to complain.

“I watched the kids.”

Bradley raises his eyebrows at your stone-faced boyfriend. Once again, his face gives away nothing. “You did?”

…

Tags:

@khaylin27 @fudge13 @slutford @averyhotchner @hangmanscoming @diorrfairy @thedroneranger @phoenix1388 @perpetuelledaydreaming @princess76179 @cherrycola27 @wkndwlff @xoxabs88xox @galaxy-moon @sugarcoated-lame

[angelpuns]

Kid Leo Au: Fanfic

| Here's the old fic I promised <3 I don't like the way I wrote it so it won't be posted on ao3, but I figured it'd be a fun supplementary reading for the comic! |

CW: Almost death/dying, uh some crying.

Leo couldn't hear or see Krang Prime anymore. A fact that was both comforting and terrifying. 

His body ached, the lack of a distraction making his wounds throb in time with his heartbeat. He tried to mentally note his injuries, to think of how he would have treated them if he ever got home. 

Something in him told him he wouldn't be going home, though. 

And as much as he had been prepared for that….it still made his chest ache.  

He squeezed the picture of his family a little tighter, letting his tears dissolve into space. 

The thought almost made him want to laugh. He hadn't cried like this in so long, who knew all it took was having the shit beat out of him and being left alone in another dimension? That wasn't a good joke. He was pretty sure it wasn't a joke at all, actually. 

That made the internal laughter die off pretty quick. 

It was so..cold. Not cold, but…there was an absence of warmth. If anything, it felt like…nothing. Like he was floating through nothing. 

The silence pierced his ears, the impenetrable ringing making him shake his head - an attempt to make some sort of sound that wasn't swallowed up by the black hole around him. He did it again and again, unable to get rid of the all-consuming silence around him. His ears rang with it - the effect a lot like being trapped in a soundproof room. 

Hell, he preferred the krang shouting at him and beating him into the ground over the silence. At least he didn't feel like he was losing his mind. If he concentrated just so, he could hear his heartbeat. He shivered involuntarily, shaking his head again to try and focus on something - anything, else. 

The silence droned on for several minutes, Leo trying to distract himself from it by reminding himself what it was all for. Who it was all for. He stole a glance at the picture through bleary eyes. It was a good picture. They all looked so happy. 

Leo stifled the remainder of his tears and let out a long sigh. 

He could handle the choking, stifling quiet.  

He could take a little silence before Kraang Prime inevitably wiped him off the face of the Earth. Or -since they weren't exactly on Earth - blipped him out of existence. 

The thought made him feel nauseous, though that could be from the sensation of weightlessness. Like he was falling through the air in slow motion - never to hit the ground again. 

More tears fell. 

Who was he kidding - he wasn't meant to be alone like this. He'd never been alone before. He'd always..he'd always had someone. 

Leo's sniffles were the only thing that broke the silence, and even that didn't last long. 

Years of silently crying in his room were not being his friend right now. He wished he'd been a screamer. He wished he'd thrown tantrums and screamed along with his music and wailed at the top of his lungs. 

At least then it wouldn't be so painfully quiet. 

The ringing continued, Leo finally managing to zone out a little when a sort of 'fizzle-pop' sound started up somewhere behind him. 

Warmth spread on his shell, a faint glow peeking out from behind him. A crackling sound filled the air, Leo rolling over in the big open space to see what it was. His heart raced at the thought that it was the kraang again, just waiting for him to turn around before striking him to the ground again. 

A bright orange light flooded his vision. Was this what everyone talked about? The light? He'd never really believed in that stuff, but he imagined this is what it might be like. Good to know everyone else was right - he couldn't help but feel a little bitter about being so wrong. 

The light grew, Leo squinting against it. It was warm, taking up his entire vision. It almost looked as if the very sky had broken open. But it was so warm, it must have been that light. The one that you weren't supposed to go into. and yet he wanted so badly to go into it. 

Leo reached for it, wanting nothing more than to be cradled in that light, for the crackling sound to invade his senses and get rid of that horrible ringing. Even if it was the end, it was a hell of a lot nicer than the silence. 

He squinted, eyes adjusting to the light as it grew larger and larger. As it did, he recognized it for what it was. 

A portal. 

His brothers took shape beyond the light, grinning at him with shining eyes. Like they were waiting for him, just behind that opening. He thought it might be a hallucination at first, but that didn't stop him from dropping a solid one-liner. 

He winced at the effort, but grinned nonetheless, " took you guys long enough". 

Nice One, Leo.

Even if this was some hallucination right before he died, he could still get a joke or two in. 

To his surprise, Raph activated his ninpo and reached out with one of his large, red hands, grasping Leo's in it. 

It was warm. It shouldn't have been warm, but it was to him. Leo could sob from the feeling. More tears bubbled up from his chest and he grinned up at his brothers, hurrying to blink them away before they saw. He couldn't be caught crying now, after all that had happened. 

 Raph tugged hard, pulling him closer and closer to the portal. 

If he had the energy, he'd make a joke about how this was way better than floating in a wasteland. Leo wanted nothing more than to hear them laugh, even if it was fake. Even if he made the world's worst pun. 

The feeling vanished almost immediately when the rush of air and the screech of the kraang came from just under him. He chanced a glance back, the giant red eye staring back at him. Even if it was just armor, it felt like it stared right through him. 

Metal claws surrounded him, and Leo almost pulled his arm back - out of Raph's grasp. He wouldn't let the krang win - he couldn't let them win. 

He glanced back again, his chest seizing a little at how close he was already. But then Donnie shouted from the portal and Leo turned his attention back on his brothers. He didn't want the last thing he saw to be that red eye. 

If he made it out of this alive, he'd have to tell Donnie how badass he looked just then. The thought passed so quickly it almost made him laugh - even if he was so sure the kraang was gonna grab him. 

The drill went flying past Leo and into the kraang's face, Raph dragging him to the portal with all the force he could. Leo went flying, the breeze as the smells and the sounds of New York hitting him all at once. He landed hard on Raph's plastron, groaning when he was deposited on the ground instead. 

Now that he had gravity back, everything hurt even worse. 

 "gu-guys!?"

Leo winced, but sat up a bit and looked at his younger brother. 

Mikey was trembling all over, a faint orange glow still emitting from his shaking limbs. He held his hands out in front of him, staring down as they crackled, pieces flecking off and floating away in the breeze. He dropped to his knees, Raph and Donnie rushing to his side. The portal had zipped out of existence, but Mikey was still crumbling. 

Leo rolled onto his knees, his wounds screaming for him to stop. 

No, no, he wouldn't lose Mikey like this. He wouldn't let his little brother die. Not like this, not for him. 

Leo crawled over on shaky limbs, holding back groans of pain. He had to do something. There had to be something he could do. His ribs ached with each breath, but Leo grabbed for his brother, already pulling him close - as if he had any clue what to do for him. 

" Le-leo!" Mikey was staring at him, his arms starting to fleck away from the fingertips down. Leo could only stare for a moment, eyes already burning with tears again. 

To his credit, Mikey gave him a tearful grin. Like he was glad to have done it. 

But Leo would never forgive himself. 

" No, no, c'Mon Mikey-" Leo winced, squeezing Mikey a little in his arms. He didn't know what to do. His thoughts were zipping by, all the medical knowledge in the world doing him no good. He didn't know anything about this. 

Donnie put a hand on his shoulder, Raph taking up the other side. They each squeezed, hands trembling where they touched him. There had to be something…anything they could do.  

Leo couldn't help it. He let out a sob. He did seem to be crying a lot lately, huh? 

Mikey was still shaking, his eyes squeezed shut. Leo hated it - he could feel how scared Mikey was. How terrified he was to be dying. 

There had to be something- anything!

Leo squeezed him tighter, trying to hold his brother together like glue - keep him here just a little longer while he thought of a plan. 

Think, Leo! Think! You're supposed to be the leader- 

Leo begged for something - for any kind of plan. He thought back to everything they knew about their ninpo- maybe his powers? 

Something. Anything. 

" I WO-WON'T LET YOU GO, MIKEY!" he sobbed, curling into his brother and just hoping for something to happen. Raph choked back a sob next to him, gripping his shoulder a little too hard. 

Something in him broke free with that, his powers crackling at his fingertips. He felt lighter suddenly, as blue lightning crackled down his arms and into his younger brother's form. 

Leo shut his eyes, feeling nauseous, but he couldn't stop! Mikey needed him- 

He could feel it, he could feel the power flowing through him and into Mikey - like a current of a river rushing and rushing and rushing towards his brother. 

And it was working. 

Leo chanced a glance at Mikey - his eyes had shut, but he was reforming. Blue light filled in the cracks, Mikey's arms slowly taking shape once again. 

Leo grinned, tears slipping down his cheeks. He closed his eyes and squeezed tighter, sobbing into the embrace. He felt like something was being ripped from his very being, but it'd be worth it. It'd be worth it to keep Mikey safe. 

The current continued. He willed it to continue until Mikey was fixed, until he was better and every piece of him was back in place. The ground swayed beneath him with each pulse of energy that left his body, but he had to keep going. He had to fix his brother. 

Something was changing for him, too, but he couldn't place it. 

It didn't matter. 

He couldn't stop until Mikey was back together again. 

He rode out the feeling of nausea. He could do this. 

He could do it. 

" I got you, little brother, " He murmured, letting the feeling take over. The blue light consumed him - he felt himself slipping away and checked once more to be sure it had worked before letting himself succumb to the blue light of his own powers. Everything was hazy and blue and he felt lighter than air. His heart was racing, his breath coming out in ragged pants. 

He felt himself fall into Raph's side, someone saying something. He couldn't hear them. 

Mikey was safe. Mikey was safe and he had done all he could. 

As long as Mikey was safe, he could rest. 

He could finally rest. 

Donnie was not a fan of all this mystic stuff. Even if he had somewhat mastered his own powers, his brothers' powers still eluded him. Especially now that Mikey had mystic hands or whatever. Raph's clone thing was somewhat more tangible ( literally ), but Leo and Mikey's abilities still felt too unreal to explain. He'd tried once to take a scientific approach with Leo's portals and met a wall. 

He couldn't even begin to explain what seemed to be a literal demon living in Mikey's weapon - not to mention the whole chain and fire business - it was all too much for him to comprehend. He was somewhat relieved when he'd gotten his nunchucks back - at least there wasn't some sort of creature living in them. He hoped. 

But this took it to a new level. 

It was one thing for Mikey to open an interdimensional portal, it was another to watch Leo use his powers to fix Mikey's dissolving form. 

And then to watch him shrink into blue light and become a small child. He felt the same as when Mikey had opened the portal, Leo's powers seeping into his arm and pulling something from him - pulling his energy from him. His skin had crackled and lit up just like Mikey's, but with a brilliant blue light shining through it. And he didn't dissolve into nothingness like Mikey had been doing. 

His first thought was time travel, but his second thought was what if this Leo had sustained the same injuries? 

He could worry about the why's and how's later, for now they all needed immediate medical attention. He couldn't see anything outwardly, but it was hard to tell when Leo was entangled within his wraps and sash, the pieces of fabric too large for him now. 

" Raph, call April, Papa and Casey Jr. And tell them to meet us at the lair, " He informed, taking a deep breath so he could keep it together. He'd had a lot of ups and downs for the past few minutes, but he could keep it together to play family doctor for a bit. 

Mikey was awake, at least, and was no longer dissolving into thin air. He sat up, staring in surprise at the literal child that had replaced Leo. Or, was Leo. Was Leo - but was also a child. Ugh, it was too much to think about right now. He'd have to file the time travel nonsense away for now. 

" did…did everyone else see that?" Mikey stammered out, his eyes moving from his arms to Leo, " I'm - he healed me!" 

" yes, and probably not without major consequences - oh would you look at that, major consequences, " he motioned to Leo. Or tot Leo. Little Leo. He wasn't sure What to call him. Hopefully it wouldn't be a problem for too long. 

Raph had broken from his own shocked stare to do as Donnie had asked, currently on the phone with April - if Donnie had to guess from the over exaggerated shouting on the other end. He wondered if she and their father were okay. If Casey was okay. If anyone had been majorly injured. 

Donnie caught himself beginning to zone out and shook himself out of it. Right. Act now, shutdown later. 

He pulled Leo into his arms, the kid squirming a little at the touch. 

" Stop- stop moving, " He hissed, keeping Leo close to his chest. The slider didn't seem to acknowledge him. He seemed to be just as out of it as Donnie felt. 

Donnie's mind supplied a concerning amount of reasons why, and he found himself hurrying to stand and start for the lair. They had to get home and check him for injuries fast. He mentally checked off what he remembered about concussions - pizza supreme, what if Leo had accidentally fried his brain? Was that even possible? Could mystic powers do that? 

" Donnie?" Mikey was following him. Good, they needed to get a move on. 

" We've got to hurry- if 'child Leo' has sustained the same injuries, we're working on borrowed time. We'll have to deduce why this happened later, " He rambled out, letting his feet carry him in the direction of what he hoped was the right way home. He glanced at his wrist-tech, the crack in the screen making it difficult to read. " I assume its something to do with his powers, but I don't have- I can't make a clear enough hypothesis just yet" 

He knew he was being snippy, even for him, but talking hurt. 

Opening his mouth and forming words felt like the worst thing in the world, but he willed himself to hold it together.

 Hold it together for Leo.

Kid Leo Masterpost

[tomakoshark]

Man, I can't hold it in any longer. Every time this card pops up, I just have the strongest urge to LAY ON HIM.

His pose is literally so inviting. Like legs open, leaning back. I just want to lay in between his legs and nuzzle my face into his stomach while I hug him.

And I mean, man's got some handcuffs on, I can think of a few other things I could do while I'm there,,,,,,

Just imagine him laying like that often, casually and innocently, minding his own business. And then you just happen to come up, target insight.

Small Fic Below, Male Reader x Leviathan

Just some poorly written kissing and fluff, kind of suggestive

I would've made it spicier/spicy, but I don't think I'm good enough at writing to do that yet eheheh

And just … Oh how he sat there. So comfortable, in a position so inviting. In a way, looking so confident. Even his quick glare has you transfixed, rendering you with a want to do nothing more than to advance.

Stepping closer towards him, he shoots you another brief glance, too absorbed in his switch to properly acknowledge you. Encroaching further into his personal space, you finally plop down in front of him, startling the poor demon as he suddenly pauses his game. “Wha- MC! What are you-?” Before he could finish his question, you crawl a little closer, knees finding their way in the little spot between his legs. Your hands now on each side of him, trapping him in his place. “Ah- M-MC, I don’t know what normie tactic this is b-but- eh!?”

Putting the rest of your weight onto Levi, you nuzzle your face into his abdomen, too absorbed into the warmth of his body and just … how soft he is to care about his current state. 

Which is panic. But, a good type of panic? Is it a good type of panic? Should he be happy about this?

He can’t help but feel his face get warmer, his heart beating out of his chest but … this is nice. Unsure about what to do next, or whether he should move, he stiffens further as he feels your arms snake their way around him. Finding purchase around his back, your hands pressed against him and, ah- are, are you tracing patterns on him?! 

‘This is it Levi, this is the way you die, by the hands of a normie and in your own bedroom!’ Though, it is really nice. To have you to himself, your breath slow and steady, warm on his chest. The weight of your body, like one of the best blankets in the three realms. And the feeling of your fingers on his skin, which even through his shirt feels … heavenly. He’s calm now, breathing syncing up to yours, his muscles relaxing. And he can’t help but stare. 

It was as if he was an angel all over again. Enamored by your presence alone, he finds his hand moving. Ever so slowly, cautious, not wanting to ruin this time with you. Shaking slightly, his fingertips finally reach your head, gently, as though you were the most fragile thing to exist. Lost in this moment, he let his hand wander along with his mind. Stroking your head softly, feeling your hair transition into skin as his fingers began to trace patterns of their own onto your neck. Traveling trails unknown to anyone but him, further onto your back. 

That is until you move, picking your head up to rest your chin on him instead. Eyes locking with his. And your smile, small and gentle, pulling at his heartstrings and increasing his now growing anxiety. 

‘You’ve done it now Levi, you idiot! Pathetic, stupid otaku, thinking you have a chance with him! Ah- he must think I’m a freak, I have to-’ “Ah- I’m sorry! I shouldn't have touched you! I-” “Levi, it’s okay.” You assure him, giving his waist a squeeze for comfort as a small chuckle escapes your lips. “Are you sure, I stopped paying attention. Ah- to my hand that is, you were just so comforting, a-and warm and … cozy. I-I …” Having pushed yourself off his chest, your face was now hovering only a few inches away from his, the smile on your face impossible to hide. 

“M-MC.” “I liked it, Levi. You don’t have to apologize. I like feeling your touch, getting to lay on you, be with you. It’s nice.” His face was covered in a deep blush as his eyes found any other thing in the room to glance at. Meeting your gaze, right now, he might combust. “Levi?” ‘Oh shit.’ Your eyes locked again, the call of his name drawing him back to you. And he can feel it, his heart beating faster, his hands becoming clammier. “You enjoyed yourself didn’t you?” ‘Fuck.’ “Of course I did, th-though not in a weird way, or anything, just-” ‘You’re losing it Levi, control yourself for fucks sake!’

Closing his eyes he took a deep breath to ground himself before meeting your stare. Determination filling his eyes. “I liked touching you- ah I mean, holding you! I just, I don't want to make you uncomfortable…” Slipping a hand up to caress his face, skin warm against your fingertips, you give him another smile. Same as the last but serene, enough to put him at ease. “You’re not going to make me uncomfortable, though I appreciate it. For a demon you have a soft heart…”

You slowly inch closer to him, at least he thinks you do. His chest is getting tighter, however, he’s just as calm again as he was earlier. Eyes flickering from yours to your lips and back once more, the doubt in his mind leaving as quick as it entered. Your lips were soft, softer than he could have imagined. Eyes closed, softly caressing each other's faces, he felt as though he could stay there forever. You and him, sharing this moment throughout time and space, nothing getting in the way, nothing stopping you two from being together. He’d like that, and so would you, but good things must always end. Of course only to begin again, as he chases your lips, stealing as much as he can while you pull away. 

And even as you stare into each other’s eyes, breathing regulating and the moment fleeting, he can’t help but feel as though it’s still just the two of you in existence. “MC?” “Mhm?” “Could we … Will you stay here? With me?” You take in the sight before you. Levi, with blown out eyes and cheeks as red as a sunburn. A longing look on his face hopeful for your answer. For something more. Confidence seemingly radiating out from him, compared to his usual self, he appears bold. Still cautious, but bold. It’s a nice look on him.

“Of course I’ll stay.” You lean down and give him another kiss, savoring the way his lips mold to yours, moving in time together like a dance. Pulling away again you hear a huff of slight annoyance coming from the demon below. You can’t help but smirk. “We can continue if you want. I mean with the cuddling, unless you want to-ah!” And with one fell swoop he rolled the two of you over, an embarrassed expression on his face. Slight worry and longing knitted into his eyebrows as he scanned your features. He wanted to make sure he was right, that you wanted him too. “I want to continue, more than cuddling …” 

[clu-ven]

Heyaa , I hope you're taking good care of yourself before answering any of the asks! Make sure to stay hydrated always 😄

I have a small request for the bad batch (mainly Hunter). How would they react to a reader that is the mom friend ? Bonus points if she has a REALLY short pixie cut (hair almost buzzed).

I'm usually the mom friend and I'm really curious regarding this , if you feel comfy enough writing about it , headcanons , maybe even small fics of it? 💛

THE BATCH BAD WITH A READER WHO'S THE 'MOM FRIEND'

quick note: eeeek thank you for the request anon! But I'll be honest, I had no idea what a 'mom friend' was before this so I hope I did it justice! Also, because I spent so much time trying to figure out the characteristics of a mom friend (Have I overthought this? why yes, yes I have), I didn't touch on the short hair aspect but I can always do headcanons specifically for that if you'd like!

word count: 3.1k

HUNTER

Hunter isn’t sure what to make of you at first. Before you came along, he assumed if someone was nice to the Batch, it was because they wanted something from them.

But not you. 

You genuinely care about them and their safety. It’s unlike anything Hunter has ever experienced and honestly, it’s a little unsettling at the beginning. He doesn’t understand why you put so much effort into befriending a bunch of defective clones.

He’s cagey but once some time passes and he realises you genuinely care and this isn’t some façade, Hunter relaxes and embraces your role as the mom friend.

Hunter’s actually kinda relieved to have you around now. He’s still unsure if he can look after Omega properly but having you there to confide in is a big help. 

And although Hunter will always try his best to act tough and unfazed by things, he appreciates your keen eye and how you can always spot whenever he’s feeling overwhelmed.

...and now, a quick drabble...

Hunter’s been staring at the datapad for twenty minutes, hand pinching the bridge of his nose as he sighs to himself. In the two seats in front of him, Tech and Echo loudly bicker about whether the last mission was a trap or simply bad timing, and in the seat adjacent to Hunter, Wrecker flings Omega up into the air before catching her again… a routine they’ve been doing ever since the Marauder went into hyperspace. 

The mixture of Tech and Echo’s squabbling, Wrecker’s booming laugh and Omega’s squeal everytime she’s hoisted into the air is a recipe for disaster for the Sergeant. 

Picking up some spare blankets you spontaneously bought on the last planet you visited, you call out to Hunter. His head snaps up, though the second he sees you, his expression softens. “Can you bring these to the bunks for me? You can just leave them at the end of each one” you ask sheepishly.

With a sharp nod, he stands and with a few strides, Hunter is in front of you and taking the blankets. Lowering your voice so just he can hear, you say “Take all the time you need, I’ll get them to calm down… eventually”. A flicker of shock spreads across his face, surprised that not only did you notice his agitated demeanour but that you knew exactly what was causing it. 

Opening his mouth, Hunter wants to thank you, to put his hand on your shoulder and tell you how much this means to him but Omega lets out another shriek and he tenses.

Giving him a reassuring smile, you walk past Hunter and to the others. As Hunter makes his way to a quieter part of the ship, he can hear you trying to change the topic of conversation with Echo and Tech, hoping that’ll put an end to their bickering before offering Wrecker and Omega some spare Mantell Mix you had in an attempt to distract them from their noisy game. 

With a smile on his face, Hunter crashes on to his bunk, blankets covering his head as he wonders how he got so lucky to meet you.

TECH

Much like Hunter, Tech is dubious of you at first. You’re so quick to help them, to listen to their problems and care for them. Before this, the only other entity that’s ever aided the Batch is the Republic and well, we all know how that turned out.

Don’t be surprised if he ends up interrogating you, asking you a barrage of questions regarding what you hope to get out of this.

Kindness isn’t something they’ve come across recently so Tech’s sceptical of you.

But once Tech sees how you act around not only them but everyone else, he starts to understand that you’re simply caring by nature and not trying to scam them.

Before you came along, Tech would usually stay up working until he fell asleep hunched over a table or else he would opt to not sleep at all.

But now with you here, he knows it’s only a matter of time before you come along and usher him off to bed. At first, Tech thought this was annoying and a hindrance to his work but he gets used to it pretty quickly, finding it comforting that you always make sure he gets some rest.

...and now, another quick drabble...

It’s another late night for Tech. He doesn’t mind it, preferring to work in near silence (besides some snoring coming from the other room).  Working on a few adjustments to his helmet, Tech’s eyes flick between his armour and datapad, taking the time to simultaneously catch up on what the Empire has been up to recently. He’s not sure what time it is but judging by the deep sleep everyone seems to be in, he’s presuming he has another few hours until anyone wakes up.

When he hears some movement from the other room, Tech freezes for a second before relaxing once you come into view, a steaming cup in your hands. “You should be asleep” you whisper, tiptoeing closer to him. 

“So should you” he replies without missing a beat, resuming his work on his helmet. You sigh, setting the cup down on the desk. Peering over at the warm liquid, Tech questions “Caf?”.

“Tea,” you correct him “you can take it to bed with you, it should help you sleep”.

Tech doesn’t move, giving you a look that reads ‘seriously?’. Putting your hands on your hips, you bluntly state “You need to rest”.

“So do you” he quickly replies. You sigh. Sometimes you forget how stubborn he can be. 

“Well, I’ve actually gotten some sleep,” you shrug “and Echo’s supposed to be watching the ship while we’re in hyperspeed but he’s fast asleep so I’ll take watch instead”.

“That’s unnecessary, I’ll watch the ship and you can go back to bed“ Tech proposes but you fold your arms, shaking your head.

“No, you need sleep” you try your best to sound stern but it’s hard to act mad at Tech, especially when he’s trying to help.

He goes to speak again but you sigh, giving him a pleading look as you say “Tech, please… if you don’t sleep now then you’ll be overtired tomorrow and you won’t be able to think straight on our next mission and kriff, if you can’t think straight on a mission then we’re all screwed”. 

Slowly, Tech rises from his seat “You have a point”.

Picking up the tea, he gives you a wearily smile, suddenly feeling self-conscious over his stubbornness. “Thank you… for looking out for us, you’re caring nature isn’t something we’re used to” Tech tries to make eye contact with you as he speaks but he finds it hard, his face becoming flustered with his small confession. 

Returning the smile, you reassure him “Don’t worry about it, now go get some rest, you deserve it”.

WRECKER

Even in a galaxy full of backstabbers and criminals, Wrecker likes to see the good in people so he trusts you and takes your kindness at face value.

He quickly becomes attached to you, relishing in your caring nature and becoming very protective of you. You’re a breath of fresh air to Wrecker so Maker help anyone who tries to mess you with.

Wrecker knows how rare it is to find someone so gentle and caring and now that you’re here, he doesn’t want to let you go. 

Despite Wrecker being much larger and stronger than you, you make him feel safe and protected.

Although, Wrecker can be mischievous sometimes. He has no problem dragging you into an argument if he knows he’s losing, knowing you’ll put a stop to the bickering completely and he won’t ‘officially’ lose the argument.

He may have threatened his brothers a few times with the dreaded “I’m telling”. You’re respected by all of the Batch so the thought of getting into your bad books is enough to make them shut up and leave Wrecker be for a while.

...yet another quick drabble...

Boarding the ship, Wrecker calls out your name, hand on his head as he enters. You immediately look in his direction, getting up from your seat and making your way over to him with a concerned look on your face.

Before you can even ask what’s wrong, Wrecker groans “I hit my head… again”. Reaching up to get a better look at his injury, you gently touch his jawline as you examine the side of his head. Thankfully there’s no open wound and hopefully the pain won’t last long. 

“Do you need some food?” you ask, making Wrecker’s demeanour perk up ”You go rest, I’ll get you some blankets and a cup of water and-“.

Hunter cuts you off, boarding the Marauder next “He’s fine, he can do that himself”. Although you know Hunter is only saying this to make sure you’re good hearted nature isn’t being taken advantage of, you roll your eyes. 

“No he can’t, he’s injured!” you declare, removing your hand from Wrecker’s jawline and instead opting to rub his back. “Yeah, Hunter, I’m injured!” Wrecker repeats, his tone mimicking yours.

Not wanting a fight to break out, you glance over to Wrecker, giving him an unimpressed look. After seeing your expression, he goes back to groaning and holding his head. It’s pretty obvious Wrecker’s exaggerating this injury but you decide to play along, knowing he just needs some attention.

“Oh c’mon, he didn’t even complain about his head until he saw the Marau-“ Hunter scoffs but Wrecker interjects with another low whine, turning his attention to you as he speaks over the Sergeant “I think it’s getting worse, all this talking is many my head throb”. 

With a soft smile, you reply “Why don’t you go lay down, hm? I’ll follow you in a second, just let me go get some snacks for you first”.

Although Wrecker tries to keep up his exaggeration, he can’t hide his smile. Giving you a nod, he turns to head towards the bunks, making sure to give Hunter a smug look as he passes. “Wha- please tell me you saw that” Hunter runs his hand down his face.

You let out a small laugh, making sure you speak loud enough for Wrecker to hear as you give Hunter a wink  “Hey be nice to your brother, he’s hurt enough as it is and he doesn’t need you making his headache worse”. Hunter rolls his eyes but doesn’t intervene anymore. 

Once you’ve collected all of your snacks, as well as getting some drinks ready and picking up a holomovie, you follow Wrecker into the bunks, excited for the relaxing night ahead.

ECHO

Echo can be kind of distant with you sometimes. It’s not that he doesn’t like your caring tendencies but he doesn’t want to depend on you, scared it might seem like he isn’t able to do things himself.

He wants to help the Batch too and before you came along, he was seen as the responsible and very tired parental figure of the group.

So while he’s hesitant to let you mother him, he’s always there to take care of the others with you. You two are the parents of the group and honestly, you’re the best duo for it.

Echo has some walls up, hesitant of the roles being swapped and him becoming the one being cared for… but with some time, those walls will start to drop.

But until then, he’ll be your teammate. The both of you working together to take care of and worry about the others. 

Seriously, it’s scary how similar you and Echo think sometimes. Whether that be packing extra supplies or remembering how each member likes to have their caf.

...you guessed it, it's quick drabble time...

It’s always hard when the batch gets split up, one half staying while the others go on a mission. What makes it harder is that you’re on the side that has been told to stay put. 

According to Cid, it’s an easy job that doesn’t require that many people and that you should be happy you get some time to relax while Hunter and Echo go on the mission. But your mind doesn’t see it like that.

While the other’s hang back at Cid’s parlour, you walk with the other two back to the ship so you can properly see them off. “Have you got extra bacta patches on board?” you quiz Echo while Hunter picks up his pace, deciding it’s best to leave the parents of the group discuss supplies.

“Yes, we do” Echo nods.

“And bandages?” you question, nervously nibbling at your bottom lip “Cid didn’t really give us a lot of information on this job so it’s best to be prepared for anything”.

With the Marauder close by, Echo stops and places his hand on your shoulder, making you stop too. “It’s going to be fine,”  he says, his voice calm and comforting “we’re transporting nerf nuggets, even I don’t think much can go wrong with that”.

You sigh, knowing Echo’s right but still feeling anxious “Ok but be-“.

“Careful?” He raises an eyebrow at you, a cheeky glint in his eye.

You roll your eyes, already well aware of how predictable you can be. “Yes but seriously, keep an-“

“Eye out for troopers” he finishes your sentence again, letting his hand drop from your shoulder as he begins to climb the steps up to the Marauder.

“Ugh, fine, point proven,” you shake your head before remembering “oh and keep your-“

“Comm on in case of emergencies” this time Echo doesn’t even glance back at you when he says it, only stopping to look at you once he’s safely inside the door to the ship, revealing his mischievous grin.

Before closing the doors, Echo bids you a proper goodbye “I’ll see-“

“You soon?” You quickly interject, making Echo’s grin grow wider. As the steps to the Marauder begin to disappear into the ship’s mechanics and the door loudly starts to close, Echo calls out over the noise “You took the words out of my mouth!”.

CROSSHAIR

Crosshair has convinced himself he doesn’t need your help, your compassion or your company. Yet no matter how many times he tries to push you away or rebuff your kindness, you continue to be there for him.

Basically, you’re a complete enigma to him.

Crosshair’s kinda like a stray cat, subtly curious of you but too wary to accept your affections. Instead, he likes to simply watch your interactions with the others, slowly warming up to the idea of you also caring for him in the same way.

The one thing you do that is guaranteed to always make him smile is scold the others. You don’t do it too often but sometimes it’s necessary, especially when they fight over petty things. 

Crosshair is always by your side then, arms folded as he enjoys the entertainment of it all. And if things start to calm down, he makes sure to say a comment or two just to rile the others back up again.

But if he’s in an argument and you walk in? He knows better than to continue, usually rolling his eyes before stalking off to spend some time alone.

...quick drabble time: Crosshair edition...

Despite the mission being a success, it ended in another argument. You luckily missed the start of this argument, so you aren’t sure who’s done what or who’s angry at who but from the glares Crosshair and Hunter keep giving each other, you can make a few assumptions. 

You just arrive to the argument when it ends, catching the tail end of it as Crosshair storms past you, muttering something about loyalty.

Once Crosshair is out of earshot, the rest of the batch let out a collective sigh, equally annoyed and disheartened by the argument. “Do I even want to know what this is about?” you ask and judging by the look on Echo’s face, no, you don’t. Taking a deep breath, you turn on your feet, now facing the direction Crosshair stormed off in “I’ll go speak to him”.

It doesn’t take you long to find him, sitting on top of one of the large crates the Batch has been tasked with collecting and transporting back to base. He doesn’t look up when you approach, keeping his attention on the dirt staining his gloves. Hopping up beside Crosshair, you wait for him to speak.

“If you’re here to make me apologise, you’re wasting your time” he hisses.

You shake your head “I’m not here to do that, I just thought I’d keep you company”.

“I don’t need your company,” he snaps back.

You don’t reply. Whenever Crosshair gets into one of his moods, you understand he pushes people away and so you don’t take what he says to heart.  

Trying to shift the topic of conversation, you put your hand into your pocket. “Y’know the last time we were in Coruscant, I went to this place called Dex’s Diner. I heard some Regs talking about it so I thought I’d check it out,” you start, causing Crosshair to roll his eyes “the food was fine, nothing too fancy”.

“And why should I care about this?” he asks, raising his head so you can see his bored expression. While he’s still in one of his moods, you notice his tone isn’t as harsh, your sudden story somewhat disarming him.

“Well, on the tables they had a bunch of napkins and those little holders for straws, oh and they had these brightly coloured sauces ,” you ramble on “but they also had this bowl on each table and you’ll never guess what they were full of…”. 

Pulling your hand out of your pocket, you open your palm to reveal a bunch of toothpicks. Crosshair gazes down at your hand, his expression remaining neutral.

“I know they’re just toothpicks,” you shrug, unsure whether you should feel embarrassed or relieved by his lack of reaction “but when I saw them, I got excited because they made me think of you. And then I started wondering if you had enough toothpicks so I figured I should take some just in case you don’t”.

With your other hand, you pick out a toothpick and delicately place it on his leg, a satisfied smile on your face. You drop the other toothpicks into your pocket, jumping down from the crate “Anyways, I’ll leave you be now, just thought you might appreciate a toothpick”.

Crosshair stays silent as he watches you leave, waiting a few seconds to make sure you really are gone before taking the toothpick and putting it between his lips. With your words ringing in his head, a small smile begins to tug at his lips. 

He rolls the toothpick along his mouth, hoping that’ll hide his expression.  Sitting back on the crate, he closes his eyes, focusing all of his attention at what you said...

“they made me think of you”

[toska-writes]

Clone commandos request if possible. 😁 Could you do delta squad. where on a mission they get captured along with the Padawan, and get protective when they try to separate them or interrogate them.

So i thought about writing a fic based on todays bad batch episode (but I need to get some of the requests done- if you wanna request some Wolffe *wink wink* that’s ok)

“Got your back”

Summary: a mission goes south with the delta squad but they have your back

Paring: The delta Squad/ republic commandos x padawan!reader (PLATONIC OFC)

Warning: slight mentions of injury and imprisonment nothing too bad… the most scary- not proofread

Word count: 1688

Notes: Delta Squad fics are not my “most popular” but ones I always do so much for and I don’t know why

Also I swear to god someone asked to join the Taglist but I can’t remember nor find it so let me know!

"Can you focus for one second Scorch? EVER?" Fixed screamed through the comms, you could see his tense movements from a mile away as the squad ducked once again behind a wall.

Boss could only nod this head, he quickly spun around from where you, Sev and him were hiding to shoot an incoming droid.

"Sorry Scorch I can't defend you this time it's not looking good." You spoke between gasp of your own breath, the adrenaline from the long hours fighting wearing on you and the whole group.

Sev leaned heavily on Fixer from where you could see him, though Scorch as of now was doing a good job covering them.

"Boss," You yelled over the hiss of a smoke bomb going off- the contents of which were going in your eyes and making you cough. "I'm all out of ideas here."

The comando spared you a glance for a second, you feared what his face would have looked like if his helmet was discarded.

Boss looked down at the padawan for a moment. A thin cut ran along their cheek way too close to their eye for Boss’s comfort. He watched their head whip around looking through the fog desperately before a huge bang went off.

After a moment of slight ringing Boss felt the bump of another person against his side. The padawan looked around frantically for the force of the bomb before looking up to the comando.

In a more solemn voice they asked. “Boss what are we gonna do?”

Boss thought about their options then. Backed into the corner of what should have been an abandoned outpost, on of their men injured and the rest ready to collapse from exhaustion. He as a leader thought he was better than this but Boss felt as if he walked his squad right into this trap.

“The missions easy enough for us.” Boss had said only hours before. A knot sat in his stomach but the team needed an easy mission, a break from their last fiasco with the bugs.

He’s never been more wrong in his life.

While he was lost in thought, Boss nearly missed Scorch sliding up next to their leader, his panicked voice tried to fill Boss’s ears.

For a moment the other comando didn’t realize the trooper in yellow was talking until Scorch made a shhh gesture with his hand.

That’s when you noticed it too, the complete lack of noise. No more clanker chatter or blaster bullets from each side. Just the low hiss of the fog that didn’t seem to die down.

You opened your mouth to say something before the unmistakable scraping of metals filled your ears.

“Rollies! get down!” Scorch shouted pulling you and Boss to the floor with him. About 5 Droidekas emerged from the smoke…. Lucky you guys.

“Scorch handle them.” Boss yelled using his hands to signal something at Fixer and Sev at the speed of light. His gruff tone scratched your ears but you all seemed pretty fed up at the situation.

Blaster bullets were blocked by your lightsaber left and right until the next words made your heart drop all together. “Out of hand grenades sir.” Scorch ripped his blaster out now but the shields were too strong on the droids.

“Down the hall!” Fixer yelled as both He and Sev passed the 3 of you, a way out hopefully planned.

You felt them before you saw them, you tried skidding to a stop before turning into the next hall as a hand shot out to grab Boss.

“Shit.” Was the only thing you could say, before they could question what you meant a group of comando droids emerged with guns drawn.

“You’ve got to be joking me.” Sev rasped out, his arm shook while he tried to lift his blaster up and fire. The tiredness leaked off of him though you were sure it did for everyone.

A ring of blue light hit the wall behind you. It didn’t make sense though, comando droids weren’t the type to show mercy.

Your lightsaber flashed along the darkened walls trying to keep the nimble droids away, why couldn’t the separatists just send the normal clankers.

Once again the hall was engulfed in a think smoke. You heard more blasters going off but you feared you were getting more and more disoriented. After a moment you heard a sickening thunk next to you and you assumed the worst.

In the blink of an eye you felt the blast hit its mark and half your body go limp. Unlike the bulking clones you were with it only took about 2 hits before you were out.

•✩•

Boss was the first one to awaken. His head bobbed around and his eyes fluttered open. Boss reached his hand up only to finally realize that his armor was gone.

He laid there for a moment, confusion laced his face. What had happened to him? To them….

In a split second Boss shot up to a sitting position , which his head greatly protested, and looked for the rest of his squad.

Relief was one of the best things in the galaxy in this moment. In the dim light of the ray shield keeping them in Boss could count the 3 other comandos and the form of their padawan knocked out next to Scorch.

Sev still looked bad as now Boss could get the full view of his gash along his side- the blacks on all of the men seemed to be tattered.

Boss observed their surroundings for a moment before giving a light tap to Fixer on the foot. When that didn’t work the first time a much hard kick was implemented.

Fixer gasped awake along with Scorch after a “friendly” tap from the clone comando.

I didn’t take Scorch long before he leaned back against the wall and groaned, clearly he knew the situation at hand.

Boss could only stare for another second at Sev, guilt rummaged through his insides as he helped his injured brother up ultimately waking him as well. This was his fault and Boss couldn’t shake that.

“Fixer start working on those bindings.” Boss ordered unable to keep his gaze on the unconscious padawan. Clearly to the eyes of their captors the Jedi was the bigger threat.

Sev hissed for a moment now finding a new brother to lean on.

You came to with the feeling of someone’s exposed hands brushing against your arms. The pounding in your head was present but the blanket of confusion was much scarier.

“Thanks for joinin’ us.” The unmistakable voice of scorch chimed in. Your eyes strained against the darkness but you could tell what the problem was.

The cool metal hurt your wrists as Fixer fiddled with them muttering a small apology every once in a while.

Boss’ low voice filled the cell, plans of just how they would get out to fight another day. Your eyes scanned the worrisome group.

Scorch sat fidgeting with his hands trying desperately to listen but you could see the worry in his eyes as clear as day.

Fixer sat in front of you cursing and apologizing but he just couldn’t seem to do anything useful without his tools and data pad.

Sev’s eyes closed everyone once in a while and you could see the fight to remain in the moment, though his scowl never seemed to be wiped off.

And finally Boss. His voice was level and low just like the countless other times you heard him give directions, however this time was different. He knew this wasn’t in their favor and he was worried beyond belief.

Someone had to stay strong for them all.

Your heartbeat beat out of your chest, a dull throb started in your temples the feeling seemed vaguely familiar.

“I think someone’s coming.” For the first time you were unsure in the force. Fixer faltered for a moment before meeting your eyes. “It’s probably these. Messing with you.” He shook the bindings.

Though to your surprise, and relief in a way, someone did make their way down the hall. Boss spoke out quickly as you averted your gaze, sweat started to form on your brow.

“We need a medic.” It was hard to call it pleading despite where Boss said it from his position on the floor, but it was definitely more of a demand.

2 masked figures approached though they seemed to ignore Boss all together.

“We need the Jedi.” The cool voice stated only once.

Everyone seemed to freeze for a moment unsure about which group would make the first move.

“Get up.” Was demanded at you and you glanced around meeting Boss’ eyes for only a moment before you gripped onto the sleeve of Fixer.

The ray shield was down now and the larger figure stepped in. “I’m not asking again”

“Like kriff they’re going with you.” Scorch stood in front of you now. His full height filled up their line of sight.

“Move clone.” For a second Scorch was pushed back that was until Boss stood as well and shoved their captor away from his brother.

Before the other could react with their blaster Scorch was all over them. Fixer taking the hint that their time was now scrambled to get their other brother still on the floor.

Your eyes were blown wide with the loud alarm that was set off. You felt someone grab your arm as you were still in a little daze.

“I hope you didn’t think we were really gonna let them take ya.” Scorch said as the group rushed down the halls.

You thought about that for a moment, had there truly been something to worry about while you were surrounded but the Delta Squad, your brothers?

A smile broke out of your face and Scorch seemed to get your reply.

“I hope you know.” Scorch called over his shoulder. “You’re never picking the missions by yourself again Boss.”

An angry yell was heard from somewhere behind you replacing the fear in your body with a laugh. “You were the one to pick the bug mission Scorch!”

______________________________

Taglist:

@arctrooper69 @thereforepizza @padawancat97 @pb-jellybeans @floffytofu @verybadatwriting @solstraalaa @ray-rook @gregorsmissingarmor

[shiggybrainr0t]

shouto wakes up trapped underneath a collapsed building, only to find himself also trapped in your embrace.

warnings: both Shouto and reader are hurt pretty badly </3, blood, immediate threat of death lol?, description of a broken leg, mention of vomiting but it doesn’t happen and isn’t explicitly stated, this is cheesy and unedited

border by @cafekitsune :)

dedicated to andie if they happen to see it because I thought of them while writing my very first Shouto fic 💘

Whenever Shouto awakes, it’s to a pounding headache, intense pain throbbing along the right side of his body, flickering lights, and something soft holding him tightly.

Groggily, he opens his eyes, wincing as the flickering light blinds him for a second. There’s a steady drip drip drip of water falling onto concrete though it’s too dark to make out much of his surroundings as the light flickers off again. The last thing he remembers is coming to an office building, where a villain with an unknown quirk was holding people hostage. A teary sounding gasp makes him look upwards weakly, only now noticing he is laying down.

He sees your face for the first time then. Eyes puffy and red from crying, with a trail of blood dripping from your hairline and down your nose, past your lips to where it becomes smeared as you wipe it away hurriedly.

“You’re awake!”

Your voice is soft, and slightly trembling as you gaze at him with wide, wavering eyes. They’re very pretty, he thinks dazedly. Framed by wet lashes, he also thinks he could look into them forever. Shouto moves to shift only to have his vision flash as pain erupts like molten lava traveling down his side.

“D-don’t try to move! A beam fell on you before you passed out. You were barely able to get out from under it.”

Feeling woozy, Shouto has to close his eyes for a moment to keep the pain from escaping through his mouth. There’s a sickening crack, and he realizes he’s cradled in your arms whenever you whimper and pull him closer, so that his head is resting against your chest and you’re basically hovering over him. He hears rubble begin to hit to ground, and sees you flinch as some small bits of gravel bounce off your head and fall beside him. Your eyes are clenched shut, and a fresh line of blood runs down your face and drips onto his own. No rubble ever hits him.

He’s confused. Why is a civilian, a hurt one at that, putting their life at risk for a pro hero? He’s supposed to be protecting you, yet here you are shielding him with your soft body. He must make a noise, because suddenly you’re looking down at him again, eyes wide with concern, bravely holding back tears now that he is awake.

Softly, you move one of the hands you had cradling his head to wipe at the blood that has dripped onto his cheek. Apologizing quietly, you begin talking again, the almost whispers coming out of your mouth seemingly echoing through the space.

“Your walkie talkie still worked thankfully, for a little while. Deku is here, and so is Red Riot and Uravity. They should have us out of here in no time, so don’t worry ok! Dynamight is also here, but that’s more worrying than anything honestly.”

Shouto can’t help but laugh at your candor, wincing as it makes the pain throbbing through his body flash intensely. You pull him even closer in your lap, now petting his bangs soothingly. Your fingers are soft on his sweaty skin, and he almost purrs whenever you begin to trace the lines of his face in a mesmerizing manner. He doesn’t remember the last time he was comforted like this when he was hurt. Usually it’s himself alone in his untouched apartment, picking up the pieces and taping them back together. He can never quite get them to fit right.

“Are you hurt badly?” His gravely voice seems to surprise you, and quickly you shake your head. He sees you regret it instantly, as you wince harshly afterwards.

“Just my head, and my leg. But not nearly as bad as you are.”

Another crack shoots through the space, and you look up worryingly at the unsteady beams ominously hanging about you. Shouto can see them looming when the light flickers on again. He can also see you. You look a little rough, he’s not going to lie. But at this moment, he doesn’t think he’s seen anyone more beautiful. His own personal angel, sent to comfort him and protect him when he’s been hurt so badly he can’t move.

You make quiet conversation after that, trying to ignore the drips and the cracks. He learns that you’re an ordinary boring office worker, your words not his, but you like your job and your coworkers so it’s not that bad. You learn that Deku has been his best friend since their first year at U.A., and that friendship is still just as strong. He learns that you don’t particularly care for cold soba whenever he brings it up, which makes him look at you in mock horror. It’s funny, seeing the normally stoic hero make such an exaggerated face that you can’t help but giggle.

The conversation dies down after a sickening pop! is heard and suddenly sunlight blinds you both. Looking up, you see shocking red hair and sharp teeth grinning at you and feel relief course through your body. Shouto feels your body relax against his, though you don’t let go. Red Riot reaches for you, but you shake your head again.

“Take Shouto, take Shouto.”

As he is lifted from your arms and into his friends, he sees you smile at him tearfully and give him a little wave. He can see you fully now, and can also see how your leg is bent at such an unnatural angle it had to be agonizing for you, but he never once heard you complain. The last thing he sees before you’re out of sight is Bakugo lifting you into his arms, with a surprising gentleness, saying something that has you nodding before you rest your head on his bare shoulder, relieved tears flooding from your eyes.

A couple days later, as Shouto is scrolling aimlessly through his phone in his hospital bed, he sees a headline that makes him stop.

PRO HERO SHOUTO KEEPS CIVILIAN SAFE WHILE TRAPPED UNDER COLLAPSED BUILDING!

Thinking of your eyes, which so bravely stared into his own, he can’t help but disagree with the article. It was you who kept him safe.

[peachhcs]

for the celly prompt 12 is so samy and will now that the season is over and it’s getting closer to the semester ending i think that sam would drag will into the kitchen and they would just dance and soak up life with eachother

dancing like nobody's watching

hughes!sister x will smith au (samy + will blurb)

finals always makes everyone stressed, so samy drags some of her friends to the lake house for a weekend getaway.

0.9k words

i'm beginning to write all of the requests sent in for the 700 followers celly, so thank you again for everyone requesting things! i may be a little slow with getting them out, so bare with me. please feel free to keep requesting as i roll the fics out for everyone you wanted to see though! it means a lot to me :)

700 celly masterlist | au masterlist

there were perks about having older brothers who owned their own lake house that loved their little sister so much that they let her crash in it for the weekend. classes were winding down, but that meant finals were quickly approaching. what better way to take some time off studying other than driving an hour north for the weekend? 

when samy went to jack with the proposal he told her two things: “no parties and no having sex with your boyfriend anywhere but your room.” once they agreed on those two things, he placed the keys to the house in her hand with a smile. he enjoyed seeing his little sister do things he wished he could’ve done when he was her age, so agreeing to let her stay in the lake house for the weekend wasn’t a hard decision. 

“i can’t believe we’re already done with freshman year,” hannah commented as she helped samy unpack some food in the kitchen. the boys already rushed towards the dock, wanting to get the first dip in. 

“me neither. feels like yesterday we just started. i’m excited for summer though, i think it’s gonna be a good ome,” the brunette smiled when she saw will, moldy, and luca running back towards the house, soaking wet from the lake. 

the door burst open and will went straight for samy. he trapped her in his arms, shaking his wet hair out on her like a dog. “will!” samy exclaimed, trying to escape his grasp. 

nick and luca did the same to hannah leaving both girls struggling to run away from the boys. “you love me anyway,” will hummed with a kiss against samy’s temple. 

“maybe not anymore. go shower off or something, you smell like the lake,” the girl ducked out of his arms earning a playful eye roll from the blonde. 

“come with me?” will dared to say in front of everyone else. luca and nick whistled while samy’s own face flushed. 

“been here for twenty minutes and the couple’s already going at each other,” nick teased, roughing up will’s shoulder. he had a mix of pride and embarrassment washed into his features. 

“you’re so annoying. go get clean. all of you,” the brunette eyed all three boys, her harsher tone finally settling them down. nick saluted. 

“yes, ma’am.” 

the three of them disappeared into different bathrooms. samy rolled her eyes, spinning back to hannah who was a fit of giggles. “god, i can’t wait for summer when everyone’s here,” the girl hummed. 

—

later that night, will helped samy in the kitchen making dinner. soft hums of the speaker drifted through the room along with luca, nick, and hannah trying to play a game of uno in the other room. the couple worked in comfortable silence beside one another—will cutting up the vegetables that samy added to the soup she was trying to make. 

he’d steal glances at her every so often when she wasn’t looking just to look at her. her curls fell down her back, frizzing at the ends from the spring heat. one of his boston college t-shirts hung loosely at her hips, probably one she stole from him when she visited last. somehow, he lost more shirts every time she came to visit, so he knew she most likely had a collection of them back in her dorm. 

“you should’ve come to boston with how many shirts of mine you have,” will teased a bit, poking her side. 

“don’t worry, i have about twenty more back at umich,” the girl giggled. she dumped the last of the cut up veggies into the pot and placed the lid on so the soup could cook for a bit. will watched as she rinsed the dishes off before plopping them into the dishwasher. his eyes never left her figure, so when samy found his gaze again, she was surprised when he was already looking at her. 

“what? do i look bad or something?” samy raised her eyebrow. 

the blonde quickly shook his head, moving to snake his hands around samy’s waist, “no, not at all. just admiring you.” 

his words earned a blush across samy’s cheeks as she pressed her cheek into his chest. they stood like that for a second until the song changed and sounds of the backseat lovers’ voices drifted through the speakers singing kirby girl. samy’s eyes lit up hearing her favorite summer song playing. 

“i overhead that she was 19. got a fake a id and a nose ring. those kind of girls tend to know things better than i do,” samy and will quickly sung along. 

as the beat picked up, will spun samy around before pulling her back into his chest. they swayed to the song, singing along to the lyrics together with big smiles on their faces. hearing these songs along with the warmer days meant summer was so soon and so was being able to spend an entire three months together. freshman year was fun, but the two couldn’t wait until they weren’t separated by states and nightly facetime calls turned into falling asleep in each other’s arms. 

the next song was another one of samy’s favorites that she played nonstop during the summer. declan mckenna always knew how to make the best summer songs. the guitar riff got the two excited as samy spun will around the kitchen. 

“i heard you sold the amazon to show the country that you’re from,” the brunette began. 

her and will started jumping when the chorus started. their commotion caused the other three to go investigate and samy quickly urged them to join. soon all five of them were jumping around the kitchen—the idea of finals and the end of the school year far from their minds while screaming declan’s song at the top of their lungs because that was the only thing that mattered in the moment.