#also accepting answers and thoughts and also prayers

[yaoi-hate-machine]

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is writing supposed to be hard

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[helenanell]

A Breath of Life || Challengers

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Part Two

Pairing(s) : Reader x Patrick – Reader x Art – Reader x Tashi (sort of.) 

CW: MDNI - 18+ : smut, rough / manhandling. Infidelity. Angst. A lot of yearning. (They all want each other, badly.) Manipulative behaviour. Minor spoilers for the film.

Notes: Female Reader (AFAB Reader) - Absolutely no use of y/n, (because I despise it, sorry)

Wordcount: 9.7K

Summary: You met Tashi in your final year of high school and were more than happy to have lost a tennis match against her. Afterwards, the two of you become inseparable and you find yourself feeling for her in a way that you don’t quite understand.And then things get even more complicated when Patrick and Art burst into your lives. As the years pass, desire, love and hatred all get tangled together...and so do the four of you.

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The idea of meeting Tashi Duncan had been much more intimidating than the actual event itself. It was an odd thing, to idolise someone who was the exact same age as you—a girl not yet out of high school and still so chronically unsure of herself and the world—but it was impossible not to. 

You had watched every single match of hers that you could, staring for so long at the way she moved, that you were left with the afterimage of her burned into your eyes: She was in your thoughts constantly and always waiting behind your eyes when you closed them hoping for sleep. 

You were brilliant at tennis, you knew that you were. But Tashi played like it was the only way she could take oxygen into her lungs; each serve and shot an inhalation and exhalation. You understood, because you felt something similar.

For a long time, you had been ignored or dismissed in every aspect of your life, by everyone. But then you had found tennis, and you were really fucking great at it. 

 Tennis saved your life by making you undeniably tangible. Your existence could not be disputed when someone had to react to your movements, to receive something you had offered. 

It was no wonder then, that for as long a match lasted you were unhealthily obsessed with whoever it was that you were playing against. They made you real. 

But then you played Tashi. You had lost, of course, but it had been a close match, neither of you dominating for long before the other gained the upper hand once more. The gasps from the crowd had been the swelling of some great tide, breaking against your flesh and reinvigorating you like freezing water. 

Once it was over, you felt bereft of something vital. You felt as though you had slipped back into non-existence, only this time it was worse than ever, because your connection to Tashi Duncan was gone. 

But your body remembered. It ached and throbbed, rebelling at all you had put it through- no. All Tashi had put it through. You were desperate to feel it again. 

And your prayer was answered. 

She appeared before you like an angel.

Tashi jogged over to you as you gathered your things after the match, flushed and with beads of sweat glistening on her skin like crystals. And her eyes…they had been wide and dark and enrapturing. And then she had said the words that would change the trajectory of your life: 

“So, when can I play you again?”

━━━━∙⋆⋅⋆∙━━━━

Ruah is the Hebrew word that means God’s spirit, but it is also breath or air and is widely understood to be God’s presence in the world. 

You couldn’t remember when you had learnt the word, but you knew that in the Bible, God had created Adam by breathing life into him. Which was why, when anyone joked about Tashi Duncan being some kind of deity, you could not dispute it, because that is what she had done to you. 

Tashi had breathed life into you.

 Her presence in your life has allowed you to come alive even off the court: you finally felt like a real person. Thanks to her, you knew that when you put your racket down, you did not simply disappear. 

Tashi saw you, on and off the court, and you loved her for it.

But, by the time you were both accepted into Stanford, over a year after you’d first met, you still wouldn’t let yourself delve into that love, and work out the ways in which you felt it. Not only because, you’d only ever been drawn to guys in any romantic or sexual way, but also because you felt undeserving of her.

 How pathetic would it be for you, who crawled at your best friend’s feet, to look up and whimper out words of desire to her?

 You were blessed to have her in your life, let alone to be as close with her as you were. Love was so many disparate things; you could love her as a friend, and hold that carnal aspect deep down. Just having her in your life was more than enough. She was enough.

Or so you thought. 

At the party celebrating Tashi, the two of you had not yet left each other’s side. You were dancing together, close enough that you could feel the ecstasy of victory buzzing beneath her skin as she held your hands and pulled you close. Her hair was silken and flowing down her back and as you were tangled up with her, it tickled against your own exposed skin. 

“They’re still staring.” You whisper into her ear, laughing as she answers by twirling you around and then pulling you back in. 

You practically fall into one another, having to steady yourself by placing your hands on her hips, the beaded fabric of her dark blue dress digging into the palms of your hands. 

“Good.” Tashi answers, wrapping her arms around your shoulders.

She turns you enough that with your chin resting on her shoulder, you are looking right at the two boys who had been gawking all night. One dark haired with confidence coming off him in waves, the other more reserved, a different kind of potency bubbling beneath the surface.

The blonde’s eyes meet yours and he tilts his head, offering a delicate but untethering smile. 

“You’re going to have to talk to them.” You offer, still held in Tashi’s arms. “Otherwise they’re going to follow you around like lost puppies all night.”

You gasp and squirm away as your friend playfully pinches your side.

 “Do you really think they’re just looking at me?” Tashi questions incredulously.

You laugh at her shock. “Of course they are.” You say, gesturing up and down her form as she continues to sway to the music. 

“Oh my God!” Tashi exclaims, grabbing your hand and pulling you close again. “You’re such a fucking idiot! They’re looking at you, too!” 

You roll your eyes, but can’t help feeling a little buoyed at the prospect of being desired. “Yeah, right.”

Tashi shakes her head. “It’s a good thing you’re so oblivious, I like having you all to myself!”

Heat floods every part of you, acutely aware of the sweat trickling down the back of your neck, your skin uncomfortably warm. 

Only when the two of you have stopped dancing do they come over. 

Art Donaldson and Patrick Zweig saunter needfully into your life and had you known then all that would ensue, you still would have welcomed their approach. 

━━━━∙⋆⋅⋆∙━━━━

The four of you had wandered down to the beach. 

Art and Patrick were sitting on deck chairs that sat side by side, their legs stretched out and their gazes lustful, both of them looking at Tashi who was perched on a rock opposite them. In that moment, the moon seemed made only for her, the silver light lining her form. 

You sit on the sand near her, your legs pulled up to your chest. The waves softly hit the beach behind you, lulling you into an even more incorporeal mindset. All that exists to you, is Tashi and the two boys who so clearly want her. 

Despite how desperately you want to engage in their conversation, you’re exhausted and distracted by the knowledge that your parents will already be looking for you. 

You’ve rested your chin on your knees, your eyes drooping shut, when a voice calls out to you. 

“Hey, are you okay?”

 Art is crouching beside you, his hand on your back, his knees sinking into the sand, shifting the surface beneath you. You jolt at the contact, scrambling to your feet as Tashi chuckles.

 Patrick’s gaze flits between you and Art and then over to your best friend, his cheeks dimpled with a smirk. 

“I’m fine.” You reassure with a shaky smile, brushing sand off the back of your dress. “I should go though, my parents will be waiting.” 

“You can’t leave!” Patrick protests playfully, placing a hand to his chest. “You’ll break my heart.”

You grin, spurred on by his own smile and shrug. “And why should I care about that?”

Patrick’s mouth drops open in feigned hurt as Art chuckles, shoving his hands into his pockets and stepping away from you. 

You turn to Tashi, meaning to say goodbye, but she’s already up and hugging you. She often kisses your cheek as a form of goodbye, but this time she gets so close that her lips tease the corner of your mouth as hers make contact. You are electrified by it.

You know that she isn’t doing it for you, which is confirmed when she pulls away with her eyes flitting giddily between Art and Patrick who have both gone utterly still as they watched the display. 

 Despite the jealous ache that blooms, you play into it, because another part of you is excited at the thought of working the two boys up. You pull Tashi back into a hug, your hands resting dangerously low on her back as you squeeze her. She giggles into your ear. 

“You already have them wrapped around your little finger.” You say it quietly, but loud enough that you know the boys will hear. 

Over Tashi’s shoulder, you see Patrick smirk again and Art runs his thumb over his his bottom lip with a small smile on his face.

When you do finally pull away, Tashi smacks you on the ass. 

“It was great to meet to you!” Art shouts after you. 

“I miss you already!” Is Patrick’s shouted offering.

You just shake your head and continue on your path away from the beach.

Unbeknownst to you, three sets of eyes follow you until you’ve disappeared from view.

When you get home, you still feel the touch of Tashi all over you. But when your hand dips under the covers, something has changed. Because when you close your eyes, it’s not just Tashi you see. Instead, multiple people are fighting for dominance in your midnight fantasy:

You see Patrick’s licentious smirk.

You see Art’s coy smile. 

They’ve both invaded your mind, corrupted your thoughts that for a year had been so gloriously void of anything but Tashi.

And from that moment, you know part of you will always hate them. For so long, even knowing you can’t have her, all you’ve needed to sate yourself are thoughts of Tashi. But they’ve changed that.

You hate Patrick Zweig and Art Donaldson because they’ve made you want more. You want….one of them. You don't know why and you also don’t know which one of them it is. 

But what is clear to you, is that a new itch has arisen within you, and it comes with panic, because unlike with Tashi, you’re certain there’s a possibility that one of them might actually want to scratch the itch for you.

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Had he known how furious you were going to be with him when you arrived, you doubted Art would have been so eager to invite you to have lunch with him in the cafeteria. 

Even when you slam your tray down and drop into the seat opposite him, he still looks happy to see you. He always did. It was infuriating.

“What are you playing at, Art?” You struggle to keep your volume down. You hadn’t wanted to yell at someone in a long time, but he had managed it.

Concern flashes in his eyes, but his lips press together in a way that tells you he knows exactly what you’re referring to. And yet he still asks:

“What are you talking about?”

“You’re fucking with Tashi’s head.”

“I would never do that.”

You scoff, stabbing the flimsy plastic fork into your salad. “Except you are, and I know that you’re doing it on purpose.”

Art pushes his own tray to the side and settles his elbow onto the table, resting his chin on his hand. “Yeah, how’d you figure?”

“Why else would you tell her that Patrick doesn’t love her?”

“Because I don’t think he does. Do you?”

You ignore his question, instead opting to pick up your apple and throw it at his head, hard. He catches it, that damnable little smile still on his face. 

“For fuck sake, Art!” You erupt. “She needs to keep her head on straight. Don’t upset her just because you want her for yourself!”

He tilts his head, blue eyes sparkling as he takes a large bite out of the apple. He chews for a bit before holding it back out to you, speaking through a mouthful:

 “You should have the rest of this, you haven’t been eating enough.”

“Fuck you!” You snatch it from his hand and shift in your seat, easily throwing it and landing it right in a nearby trashcan.

“Well that was a waste of perfectly good fruit.” Art licks some residue off his thumb and then leans across the table. 

You fail to snatch your wrist away before he grabs it. He’s gentle but firm, and as his thumb rubs along your pulse point, you feel the residual moisture from his own mouth he’d left behind, transferring to your skin.

“You don’t have to fight this hard to protect her,” Art presses. “She’s a grown woman.”

“She’s my best friend and I don’t want you to hurt her.” 

Art’s thumb stills, but he tugs your wrist a little closer. “Do you really think I could?” 

You scowl, pulling free of his hold. “You know, the way you and Patrick worship her isn’t the compliment that you both seem to think it is. You’re putting her up on a pedestal, practically deifying her, but she’s not invulnerable. She feels more strongly than anyone I’ve ever known and tennis is her life. If you get in her head and fuck up her game, It will break her and then I will break your fucking hands.”

This time when he’s smiles, it’s rife with fondness for you and it makes you want to punch him for the fluttering it causes in your stomach.

“You didn’t answer my question.” He says simply.

“What?”

“Do you think Patrick loves her?” Art repeats patiently. 

“Do you love her, Art?” 

“Can you please just answer my question?”

“I don’t know!” You throw your hands up in exasperation. “I’m not even sure I would know love if I saw it. All I do know, is that you both lust after her and definitely for each other too, even if you’ll never admit it. You’re all totally fucked.”

Art’s jaw clenches, the muscles ticking, but instead of irritation or anger at your outburst, his gaze softens. When he speaks, it is soft and achingly tender:

“You do know love. Because you love Tashi.” 

You let out an embittered laugh. “Of course I do. I tell her all the time.”

“But she doesn’t love you, not in the same way.”

You really didn’t know if he intended for that to sting, especially not with how gently he’d said it, but if he had, he’d failed. You came to accept that fact a long while ago, and while you would always want Tashi in some respect, it was not the all consuming desire it had been. The lust was gone. She was important to you. She was your best friend and you wanted to protect her. 

Unfortunately, the two men you wanted to protect her from, were the ones who had usurped her as objects of desire in your mind.

“Are you trying to find yourself a catchphrase before you go pro?” You sneer at Art. “I’m not sure how great that would look on a billboard for Adidas.”

“You deserve to be loved.” 

You had picked up your cup to take a drink of water, but upon hearing his words, you slam it down again and rise to your feet. He tracks your every move, as calm as ever.

 “I can’t talk to you right now, Art. You’re being cruel.”

You storm away from the table, only making it a few steps before you hear the scrape of his chair against the floor as he rushes to follow you.

 You’ve only just pushed open the door when he crowds up behind you. 

Art’s hand lands on your back as he guides you outside, his other hand rests on your arm and even after he turns you to face him, his touch remains.

 His hand is wrapped lightly around your arm, the other keeping you close- his palm pressed against your lower back. Anyone watching would think he was drawing you into an embrace. You almost shudder at the contact.

 Patrick has always been handsy, touching and caressing you under the guise of teasing, but Art has always moved around you as though you’ll disintegrate at the lightest touch. The way he’d held your wrist back in the dining hall and how he cradles you now, is the most he’s ever touched you.

 Your chest heaves as your flesh tingles.

Art’s head drops, his eyes on his own hand on your arm, as if he can’t understand why he’s holding you. His voice is strained:

“Patrick isn’t good for her.”

And just like that, you’re slammed mercilessly back down to earth. 

Art wasn’t touching you with tenderness or affection, you were just someone he was holding in place so that you had to hear him out. So you had to hear how much he wanted Tashi. 

“Oh, but I deserve to be thrown at him as a distraction so that you can have her?” You snap at him, more hurt than you’ll ever admit.

“You deserve whatever it is that you actually want.” 

Art sounds frustrated now, not at you…but perhaps at what he knows you won’t say. You do want Patrick. But you also want him. You had just never considered that he knew that.

But that’s not what you say. Instead you say–

“Go fuck yourself.”

“Do you want to know why he isn’t good for her?” Art presses, entirely unaffected by your fury.

“No, but I’m sure you’re about to tell me.”

The hand on your back pulls you a little closer, one errant blonde curl falls down from his forehead and brushes your temple. His breath is hot against your cheek. 

“Patrick’s not good for her-“ Art begins, his tone becoming embittered. “Because he wants you. He always has.” 

You rip free from Art’s grip with such force that the friction of it burns, his fingerprints leaving red marks on your arm. “You are unbelievable!” 

“I’m not lying. You know I wouldn’t, not to you.”

“You will say anything to have her won’t you?” You laugh nastily. “What’s the plan, Art? Do you think that I’ll try and seduce Patrick away from her now, leaving a space open for you to swoop in?” 

“Ask me how I know.”

“No.” You spit back at him. 

But you don’t move. 

Your body waits for words that your mind doesn’t think it can handle hearing. Something feels so close to breaking and you can’t help but feel like it’s to do with whatever force binds the four of you together. 

Art steps forward, closing the distance again, he raises his hands and rests them on either side of your neck, his thumbs pressing onto where your pulse is ratcheting beneath your fragile skin. 

“I know he wants you, because the night after he won our match- when he won Tashi’s number- he told me that I should fuck you.”

“Art.” You warn, frustrated tears bringing horrible pressure behind your eyes.

A small group comes out of the dining hall and have to split down the middle, because neither of you move a muscle. Art’s hold tightens, like he’s trying to leave a permanent imprint behind without it hurting you. 

He whispers now. “Patrick told me to fuck you. And I know him. He said that because when he couldn't have you, it excited him to think that I would. That I'd tell him about sleeping with you.”

“That was such a long time ago.” You say shakily, coming completely unmoored.

But Art won’t let it go.

“He still looks at you the same way, and that’s not fair to Tashi. You want to protect her, right? Well what will it do her when she finally notices the way her boyfriend is constantly eye-fucking her best friend?”

You hit out against his chest with a closed fist. The shock more than the force makes him stagger back. 

“You are so fucked in the head! You and Patrick are both pathetic little leeches who want the same girl, but can’t cope with the way it’s made them realise that they also want each other. You know what? I actually think so much would be solved, if you and Patrick just fucked each other!”

You start to back away and Art darts forward, trying to grab you again, but you smack his hand away and turn your back.

“Leave me alone, Art! And leave me out of your shit!”

He calls out your name with ragged desperation, but he does not follow. And even though he’s truly made your skin crawl, something about that makes you even more furious. 

Why won’t he follow you? 

Why do you still want him to?

━━━━∙⋆⋅⋆∙━━━━

You hadn’t spoken to any of them since your argument with Art. 

You couldn’t cope with the realisation that if any of them ever did feel any desire for you, it was only because they saw you as some sort of vessel through which they could access parts of the person that they truly wanted.  

You couldn’t even be said to exist in Tashi’s shadow anymore, you had simply been subsumed by it. Those two men, who you both despised and wanted desperately, would never see you, not really. To them, you were just part of her. But you would not let them ruin your friendship with Tashi. You just wouldn’t.

You knew when you arrived to watch her match that something wasn’t right. She was upset. You could see it in all the minutiae of her: in the way she took off her hoodie, in the way she picked up her racket. Something was really wrong. 

You walk through the stands until you come across Art. 

There are two free spaces to the right of him, so you sit down on the one furthest away, leaving a gap in the middle for Patrick to take up when he arrives. But then time passes and the match approaches and he still hasn’t materialised. 

You feel Art staring long before he makes his move. The air shifts as he shuffles over into the seat directly beside you.

“That seat is taken.” You intone harshly. Your eyes are fixed on Tashi as she prepares. 

“If it was, I wouldn’t have been able to sit in it.” 

“Sorry, I should have been clearer. I don’t want you anywhere near me, so I want Patrick to sit there instead of you.”

Your name is a tentative as he speaks it. “Will you please look at me? I can’t handle you not looking at me.”

Your gaze remains set on Tashi, she looks up and finds you in the crowd. The furious divot between her brow eases for a moment before her eyes snag on the way that Art is leaning into you. She turns her back on the entire crowd, but you know the gesture is meant for you alone. 

Fuck. What the hell had happened overnight? If it was Art’s meddling, you’d kill him. 

“The match is about to start.” You say coldly. 

 Art’s hand lands on your knee, but when you flinch, he immediately pulls it away. 

“I know I hurt you and I’m sorry. I- I need you to forgive me.”

You grit your teeth at his audacity. “Why do you need me to, Art?”

“Because I can’t stand the thought of you not being in my li-“

The match begins and Art never gets to finish his sentence. 

In fact, you don’t speak to him properly for almost a decade after that. Because Tashi gets hurt. Her sporting career ends in the blink of an eye and takes your friendship with it.

━━━━∙⋆⋅⋆∙━━━━

Both you and Art had sprinted down onto the court, your heart breaking in your chest as you fell to your knees beside your best friend, tears gathering in her eyes as she whimpered in pain. 

What had hurt the most though, was the way Tashi had shoved your hand away when you had tried to comfort her.

“Don’t touch me!” She had barked on a ragged breath. “Get away from me. Get away!” 

The hatred had dripped from her words and landed on you like a corrosive liquid. And as it had burned down to the bone, you had looked at Art and the apologetic agony with which he’d regarded you—even as he’d cradled Tashi’s head in his hands—told you what he’d done.  

He’d not only told you about Patrick’s supposed lust for you, but he’d also told Tashi. He had told her that even after her now boyfriend had won her number, he’d apparently been thinking about fucking you. Art had also definitely shared his little insight that Patrick didn’t love her either, which you quickly worked out had contributed to his absence.

So Art got what he wanted: he finally had his hands on Tashi and he’d done it by carving you and Patrick away. 

Art Donaldson was an attentive, gentle, even needy man, but you had been so stupid to think that meant he couldn’t also be calculated and cruel. Because of course he was. What else could win the heart of Tashi Duncan but brutal passion? It was part of what she loved about tennis: the unforgiving force of hits that once you met them, somehow felt like affection.

When Patrick had tracked an injured Tashi down, still waiting to be taken to hospital, he had been ordered away by both her and Art.

You knew that because he’d just told you. It was the first thing he’d said to you when you’d let him into your room fifteen minutes earlier.

Now, you were both sitting on the scratchy carpet of your dorm, passing a bottle of vodka between the two of you. 

You felt bereft. Your body wracked with sympathetic pain for the grief in your mind. You’d lost Tashi today, you knew that. And the man that had caused it, was a man you’d spent years yearning for. 

Art hadn’t only taken Tashi from you, but he’d violently ripped himself away too.

“Art wasn’t lying.” Patrick grumbles after taking another hearty gulp of vodka. 

“Please, don’t.” You beg wearily, taking the vodka from his outstretched hand and pressing it to your lips. Not even the burn of the spirit going down your throat registers.

“I wanted- want, both of you. You and Tashi.” 

He isn’t drunk, only tipsy, but he’s getting there, and his words are sluggish, laced with fury. 

“Shut up, Patrick.”

You fall down onto your back, resting the vodka bottle on your stomach, holding it by the neck as you stare up at the ceiling. 

Patrick has been sitting opposite you, but he moves languidly forward, crawling up over your body. He braces one knee beside your hip as the other slots between your legs. 

You blink up at him as one of his hands rests beside your head and the other falls over your own where it still holds the vodka bottle. You let him take it from you, placing it beside your body before the hand then moves to rest on the other side of your head. 

You’re now trapped beneath him, his lithe body hovering just above yours.

When he leans in, his alcoholic breath almost sears your skin as his lips brushed the shell of your ear. 

“Sometimes, when we were fucking I would imagine that you were with us.” Patrick’s teeth nip at your ear. “I asked her once, you know, and she slapped me. Called me a pig. I think she was just mad because she liked having you to herself. You were such a devoted acolyte, kissing the ground she walked on—“

Fury bursts within you like a solar flare, red-hot and ruinous. He was talking about her in the past tense, as if she was dead to both of you already.

Art groans in pain when you knee him in the balls. You use the chance to shove him off you and he falls to the side, knocking the bottle of vodka over. 

As you stand up, you feel the alcohol seeping into the carpet at your feet. 

“You are a pig.” You hiss down at him.

 It’s your room, but you find yourself storming towards the door. 

You don’t get far before Patrick recovers, clambering to his feet and easily closing the distance with his long legs. 

You groan in frustration as he presses you into the door, one hand above your head and the other wrapping around your torso, his fingers dangerously close to brushing your breasts over your tank top. 

“If I’m a pig, why did you let me in?” He pressed his face into your neck and breathes you in.

 Some of the vodka has evidently soaked into his shirt, because the scent seizes you with the same violence with which he had. It’s a secondary intoxication. 

You words come out weakly, and you hate that it’s because you’re using so much energy fighting the urge to press back into him:

“I felt sorry for you.”

Patrick laughs. 

The smug bastard actually laughs right into your skin, the vibrations travelling all the way down to where your body has begun to ache the most. 

“Oh, sure.” He coos patronisingly. “It definitely wasn’t because you’ve wanted to fuck me for years.”

You should fight him, but you don’t want to. 

You should protest when the hand that he has pressed to the door moves to pull down one of the straps of your tank top. But you simply don’t want to.  You want him. 

Art had been right about both of you.

No sooner has the thin strip of fabric been removed from your shoulder, than Patrick is clamping his teeth down on the exposed flesh. You yelp in surprise, the pain a burst of sordid pleasure. 

Patrick laughs again, the hand he has pressed to your stomach pulling you flush against him. You can feel his need for you pressing into your backside, but in case you had somehow missed it, he bucks his hips up into you. 

You gasp and he laughs again, his tongue now running over the aggravated skin where his teeth have left a dent.

“We both know what this is.” He goads.

“And what is it?” You ask teasingly, your head now thrown back and resting against his chest. He groans into your neck as you grind yourself back onto him. 

“Inevitable.”

“Are you just doing this to get back at them?” You ask, not daring to speak their names. 

An angry grumble you can’t quite make sense of tears out of Patrick’s throat just before he is forcefully spinning you around. 

You get barely a glimpse of his feral smirk before he is easily picking you up again and throwing you over his shoulder. The slap he delivers to your ass is punishing and stings furiously as he practically throws you down onto the carpet.

The bed is right next to you, but the asshole apparently wants you on the scratchy carpet and with a wet patch where the vodka has soaked in.

“I’m doing this, because I have wanted to fuck you, from the moment I saw you dancing at that party.”

 You’ve barely got your breath back after being thrown about, when he is grabbing your calf and yanking you down so that you’re laying completely flat beneath him. 

“But you only ever pursued Tash-“ 

He cuts you off from saying her name by leaning down and pressing his mouth to your still clothed breast. His tongue swirls over the fabric, your nipple growing pert. 

When his knee presses up between your legs, parting them forcefully, your head falls back, strands of your hair wetted by the spilt alcohol. 

When Patrick bites down on your chest far too hard, your hand instinctively comes up to slap the side of his head.

 You’re so shocked by your own burst of violence that you go still at exactly the same time as Patrick, both of you breathing furiously. When he does peer up at you, his dark curls slick against his increasingly sweaty forehead, menace dances in his eyes. 

“Do that again.” 

You wish you could have feigned confusion or indignation for even a moment, but your blood is pumping to all the right places to urge you to make terrible, delightful decisions.

 Your second slap connects cleanly with his cheek, your palm tingling with the force as his head spins to the side. 

Your handprint is already a pink mark on his skin when he wraps his arms around your torso, lifting you up just enough so that he can pull your tank top off and throw it to the side. Your chest is left bare to him and he wastes no time before peppering kisses to your sternum, to your breasts and your neck, his arms still wrapped around you, his nails digging into your back. 

The throbbing ache between your legs becomes far too much to bear, so you curl your fingers into his hair and forcefully tug him away from your chest- a bead of saliva stretching between your flushed skin to his swollen lips. 

You lean your head forward, taking his bottom lip between your teeth and biting, pulling at it until he groans pathetically. You let him go, beyond pleased when you don’t have to tell him what you want next. 

You don’t want to wait any longer. You haven’t slept with anyone since you met him and Art. 

Art.

 Is it wrong that as Patrick pushes your back into the carpet and pulls down your sweatpants and underwear in one clean tug, that you close your eyes and briefly imagine that it’s Art instead?

You might have found an answer if you had more time, but when you open your eyes, Patrick is over you, his shorts and boxers already discarded alongside your clothes. His shirt is still on, but neither of you have the patience for the second or so it would take to get it off him. 

Patrick smirks down at you before pressing two of his fingers into your mouth, you open gladly, your eyes locked onto each other as he swirls them around. When he’s satisfied, he pulls his fingers out, and then licks his own hand, mixing himself with you. 

He swipes his wet hand over your already slick core a few times before he’s pressing himself inside of you. Your arms curl around his neck as you wrap your legs around his waist. 

“Fuck.” He groans, his tongue licking up the side of your neck as his hips begin to move. 

“Patrick.” You plead, your fingers digging into the nape of his neck. 

He knows what you want, nipping at your neck before he is driving into you with bruising force. 

In that moment, as you’re joined in the way you’ve wanted since the moment you’ve set eyes on him, you realise thar Tashi isn’t the only person that can make you feel real. 

As Patrick drives into you–his lips and teeth leaving marks on your flesh that will be wine-dark by morning, and the horrible fabric beneath you leaving carpet burn on your back– you finally know more than tennis can make you feel alive. 

The sex is forceful and punishing, but fuelled by a genuine passion. Nothing but your intermingled breaths and the sound of your joined bodies fills the room. 

If the two of you hadn’t been so lost to your pleasure, you might have heard Art knocking on your door. But you didn’t. 

He did however hear the two of you, so he walked away. 

You wouldn’t speak to him or Tashi again for over ten years.

━━━━∙⋆⋅⋆∙━━━━

You weren’t in New Rochelle to compete. You didn’t need to. You were on the top of your game, ranked the third best female player in the world. 

No, you were in New York because despite your better judgement-- and the many years that had passed since you’d last seen him--when Patrick Zweig had called you, you’d answered. 

You hadn’t heard his voice since you had told him that for your own sanity, you couldn’t see him anymore.

For the two years you had been together after Tashi had banished you both from her life, you had let Patrick consume you. And you had never played tennis so poorly in your life. 

You hated what that said about you, that you had willingly discarded someone you had genuinely cared for to improve your ability to hit a ball. But hitting that ball was what kept you alive, not him. 

Not only that, it hadn’t taken you long to realise that you didn’t love Patrick enough to let him affect your career.

And yet when he had called, you’d answered. And when he’d told you that Art Donaldson had entered the Challenger as a wildcard, you both knew that you would come. 

From the moment you had booked the flight, to the first step you’d taken into the hotel, you had lied to yourself that you were only coming for the closure that you hadn’t received as a twenty year old. 

But when you stepped into the hotel lobby and saw Tashi disappearing into the nearby elevator, your self-deception shattered. 

You were here because still, after all the time that had passed, you ached for the way that you had felt when she had been in your life. You missed her. And you had missed Art. 

It was a sickening truth of your life, that while no one had fucked with your head or upset you as much as Art had ended up doing, no one else had ever been so attentive to you either. 

Art had watched you—watched out for you—even when you weren’t playing tennis. In fact, in moments of utter stillness, when you had been doing nothing even remotely remarkable, was when you had always caught him staring. He never shied away, or broke his gaze when he was caught, he’d just smiled as if he wanted you to know he would never feel shame for being found looking at you. 

And that had not changed.

You have been sitting at the hotel bar for ten minutes, feeling sorry for yourself and nursing the same glass of gin and tonic, when you feel someone looking at you. 

You turn your head cautiously, your shoulders sagging as your eyes meet Art’s. He’s sitting on one of the small leather couches tucked into the far corner of the darkened room. 

It had been an inevitability, but things would have been so much easier if you never came across him. 

You know you shouldn’t move- part of you had come for closure and you could get that just by watching him compete tomorrow, so you don’t need to talk to him. 

But then Art tilts his head and smiles at you like no time has passed and pats his hand on the unoccupied space beside him on the couch. 

You get down off the barstool.

 As you approach, he watches unflinchingly.

The last time you had heard Art’s voice, was when Tashi had suffered her injury and he’d been permitted to stay by her side when she had ordered you away.

And yet even after so much time, when he greets you with a quiet ‘hello’, the pathetic girl who had pined after him returns.

You don’t respond as you come to a stop right in front of him, the tips of your heels right against the toes of his shoes, but you make no move to sit down. 

It’s of course not the first time you’ve seen him since college, or been at the same event, or even in the same room- you’re both highly successful tennis players, you couldn’t help but overlap sometimes. But neither of you have ever allowed yourselves to get close, or to even speak. 

It has been over ten years of your eyes connecting through crowds and across rooms that felt much larger than they were, simply because there was distance between the two of you within them. 

Art sits forward, his forearms resting on his knees. He’s fiddling with his wedding ring and you can’t bear to look at the familiar way his fingers carry out the gesture. 

When he looks up at you, it's so open and wanting that you almost turn right back around. But then you hear his voice again.

“Can I ask you to sit with me?” 

“I don’t know Art, can you?” 

He smiles, sighing softly as he runs his hand through his hair. It’s short- much shorter than the curls he’d had at college. You like it. It suits him. 

You shift on your feet, crossing your arms across your chest to cover up your nerves. Perhaps you can protect yourself if you look like you’re closed off from him and from…whatever this interaction is about to be. 

Art doesn’t say anything else, but he surprises you by rising to his feet. You stagger back, but his hand reaches out and lands on your side to steady.

His touch lingers for a moment too long, but he does eventually pull it away.

 But he’s still close, too close.

Your hands have fallen to your sides, so it is too easy for Art to reach out and brush his fingers against yours. He doesn’t intertwine them, but he’s doing enough to let you know that it’s what he wants to do. 

He whispers your name. “Will you please sit with me?”

“I don’t think that’s a good idea, Art.” 

“When have you ever known me to have one of those?” 

You smile ruefully, but take a step back. His hand chases you, his fingers brushing against yours again as he tries to take your hand. 

“It’s been a long time since I’ve known anything about you.” You say, hating how sad it sounds. 

You should be angry at least. His meddling and his desire for Tashi is what ripped you all apart. And he has her now. They have a daughter together.

He doesn't get to ask you for anything, not even if it’s just to sit with him. 

You can’t trust yourself to sit next to him. 

“You do know me. Time can’t change that.” He insists, quietly but firmly. 

You scoff nastily. “I knew Art Donaldson when he was in college. The world famous tennis player who does AD campaigns for sports cars with his wife, is a stranger to me.” 

“Yeah.” Art laughs darkly. “He’s a stranger to me too.” 

You frown at him, growing angry. He seems exhausted and down-trodden. He’s clearly hurting and you hate that you know that—you hate that you‘d been able to tell that even from across the bar—because it means that he’s right: you do still know him. 

“It’s late, Art. You should get some rest. Big day tomorrow.”

You turn away from him and while he doesn’t reach for you this time, he does call out. You keep you back to him as he asks his question. 

“Who do you want to win, me or Patrick?” 

“Tennis can’t decide a victor between the two of you, Art. It’s never been able to.”

When you walk to the elevator, you feel a physical strain as you stop yourself from looking back at him.

━━━━∙⋆⋅⋆∙━━━━

You were right, tennis couldn’t decide on a winner: it was as fickle and incomprehensible as the human heart. Which was fitting, seeing as Tashi had always described tennis as a relationship. 

You had sat only two places away from her during Patrick and Art’s match, and you know she had seen you. But there had been no reaction, her face had been impassive and set on the court, her eyes hidden behind a large pair of sunglasses. 

Now, the match was long over and a result had been given. And yet there hadn’t been a victory for anyone. Just like you knew there wouldn’t be.

Something had happened on that court between the two men, some silent, inexplicable exchange that had altered the very fabric of them.

This time, when Art knocks on your door, not only do you hear it, but you answer. 

You feel almost shocked when you pull open the door to reveal him, dressed in a grey t-shirt and flannel pyjama trousers. You’re surprised at the sight as if you hadn’t known he was coming- as if you hadn’t readily offered up your room number when he had messaged and asked for it.

You’re also somehow certain that Patrick had given him your number, but you didn’t want to dwell on what sort of exchange had led to him handing it over.

Without a word, you step away from the door, self-consciously tightening the cord that holds the silk robe around your body. You stop and face the windows.

The curtains are drawn, by you stare forward as though the whole skyline is on display to you. 

The door to your room clicks shut.

You hear Art take off his shoes before his feet are padding towards you. 

When his arms wrap around your waist, you close your eyes and savour the sensation. He nuzzles his face into the crook of your neck, so you lift a hand and rest it on the side of his head. 

“I want to retire at the end of this year.” He says and you can feel his exhaustion in the slow breaths that coast over your neck. 

“So retire.” You answer softly, your eyes still on the curtains. “You’re tired.”

You know you don’t need to clarify. Thanks to the grateful press of his lips against your neck, you know he understands what you mean. 

Art is weary of all that he has to be when he’s playing tennis; he’s tired of the effort it takes to play the sport for not just him, but for Tashi too. His wife has been living vicariously through him. He’s been living for two people, taking the strain of two professional athletes combined. 

You know there had never been any point in competing with Art or Patrick, because Tashi would always love tennis the most. 

A shiver wracks your body as Art’s hand reaches for the bow that’s keeping your otherwise bare body concealed from him.

 “Can I?” His request is whined into your hair as he presses his face into the back of your head. 

Instead of answering verbally, you nudge his hand away and untie the robe yourself. Then, you take hold of both of his wrists and guide his hands onto your skin. You let out a sigh of relief when Art finally touches you the way you want him to. 

Your hands are still on him as his fingers move to cup your breasts, but he is the one guiding his movements now. He squeezes, his thumbs brushing over your nipples. 

“Art.” You rasp, pressing back into him wantonly. 

“Can I have you?” He asks, pressing open mouthed, hot kisses to your neck as he palms your breasts. “Please, let me have you.” 

“Stop fucking asking me and just do it.” 

You feel him grin against your neck just before he backs away, pulling back your robe and tugging it from your body.

The fabric has barely had time to pool at your feet when he’s grabbing you by the hips, his fingers digging in as he turns you. 

When Art’s lips finally claim yours, you moan unashamedly. His kiss is gentle but assured, you struggle for breath as he refuses to release you. Then, his hands are cupping your ass and he’s lifting you up. 

With his lips still moving hungrily against yours, Art settles you onto the edge of the bed. When he draws back, your lips chase after him and he smiles, grasping your face in his hands and giving you one more brief but searing kiss before he’s dropping to the ground.

 His hands press into your knees, forcing them apart as he begins to kiss and lick up your inner thighs. 

You prop yourself up on your elbows, watching where his mouth ravenously meets your flesh, tracing his path as he works his way closer to where you want him most.

When he reaches the top of your thigh, Art peers up at you through his long eyelashes, already looking drunk on you as he presses another kiss to your burning skin. 

“Lay back.” He instructs gently. 

But you’re too transfixed to listen- too desperate to see the moment his lips land on your core to look away.

He smiles at the realisation, delighting in your shudder as his tongue darts out and licks a line up your centre. 

“Oh my- fuck!” Your head falls back, already lost in the feeling of his mouth's devoted ministrations. 

As Art pleasures you, one of his hands skates up your stomach and gently presses down, asking rather than forcing you to lay back. This time you oblige, your eyes closed as your hands fist in the sheets. 

“You deserve so much more than I can give you.” 

You smile to yourself. Only Art could grovel as he gives so much pleasure.

Tightness begins to coil in your lower belly, but the moment he adds a teasing finger to his tongue’s movements, you realise you can’t wait. 

“Art- stop.” You gasp out, sitting up and resting your hands on his head. 

He halts immediately but doesn’t remove himself from between your legs. 

“Are you alright?” He asks, his hands rubbing soothingly along your thighs. 

“It’s not enough.” You say, tugging on his hair, trying to get him to come to you. “I need you.” 

Art doesn’t have to be asked twice, but he also doesn’t rush. He presses one last kiss to your now very sensitive folds before he’s climbing over you. 

You shuffle back, settling yourself onto the middle of the bed and even as Art takes off his clothes, he watches you. It’s as if he’s afraid that you’ll disappear if he so much as blinks. 

Now completely naked, he lays himself over you, his arms braced beside your head. He positions himself so carefully thar it’s almost as though he’s trying to fit himself to the shape of you- every divot and curve perfectly aligned sp that you’ll be fused together forever. 

As Art sweeps hair out from your face, his blue eyes bore down into you with an adoring intensity. 

You smile up at him and he rewards you by cradling your face in his hands, he lowers his head, his nose brushing yours as he gently takes your lower lip between his teeth.

Only when you understand what he wants and you open your mouth, does he kiss you again, his tongue delving in deeply.

As he seeks to consume you, your hands run down his back, squeezing his sides with your thighs. 

Art’s still kissing you as one of your hands reaches the curve of his arse, you dig your nails in and he jolts, his mouth moving away from yours and travelling down your neck. 

Tentatively, you move one hand around and down between his legs and when your hand wraps around him, he falters, his kisses stopping. 

“Is this alright?” 

Art moves again, licking the sweat slick expanse of skin between your breasts.

“Anything you do will be alright.” He assures, his lips brushing a nipple and making your back arch. 

“Do you want to have sex, Art?” You ask, barely restraining yourself.

His breaths are hot against your sensitive breasts when he answers. “Please.”

It is a joint effort as he slides inside of you. You gasp, arms wrapping around his neck as he presses kisses into yours.

Art groans as he begins to move achingly slowly, his hips rolling over yours with precision. 

You're happy like that for a few minutes, both of you revelling in your closeness after years subjected to absent desire for one another. But eventually, you want more.

You yearn for more force and luckily as you buck up into him, Art gets the message.

 As one of his hands moves behind your head, cradling it so that he can keep kissing you, the other wraps around your thigh, and pulls your leg higher over his hip, allowing himself to get even deeper. 

“You’re so beautiful.” He says in-between sloppy kisses, moving rapidly as you moan and whine. “You’ve always been so beautiful.”

Even with him inside you, making you feel more desired than anyone ever has, your mind drifts to that first night you had met him. The first night you had met Patrick. 

“You stared at Tashi.” You say.

You aren’t accusatory or upset, if anything the acknowledgement if it turns you on more. All four of you have always had a desire for the other, and it feels powerful to finally acknowledge it.

“-That night on the beach, you couldn't take your eyes off her. Neither of you could.” 

“I wanted you.” Art asserts with a particularly powerful thrust. “I- I wanted you so badly, but you went home.”

You nod, pulling him in for another kiss as you meet his thrusts. 

You understand his thinking. You’d often wondered how things might have changed had you not gone home early that night. If you’d stayed on the beach and then gone to their hotel room along with Tashi. 

Entirely content with just moving as one, you both fall silent and somehow Art curls over you even more tightly, like he wants his whole body to hide yours from the world. 

After you’ve both found your release he takes you into the shower and cleans himself off of your sensitive skin, each swipe of the washcloth accompanied by a kiss.

It ends up being time wasted though, because when you return to the bed, he takes you twice more.

━━━━∙⋆⋅⋆∙━━━━

You wake up with Art’s head resting on your bare chest. He’s laying on his side, one arm stretched out on the pillow above your head and his other hand resting on your hip. 

You’re sore in the most pleasant of ways as you sit up. You try to move slowly but Art stirs anyway, his head turning to press open mouthed kisses to your sternum. 

You rest your hand on his cheek, meaning to guide him away, but he moves so that he can kiss the palm of your hand instead. 

It’s only when you sigh into his touch, his eyes still closed as his other hand delves between your legs, that you realise why you had woken up int he first place. 

Someone was knocking on your door. 

And then you hear her voice. 

Tashi is calling out your name, sounding almost panicked.

 “Please, open the door, I know you’re in there.”

This time when you push Patrick away, he obliges, but far less quickly than you would have liked.

 In the time it takes for you to throw on your silk robe and gather up all of his clothes from the floor, he has barely got himself to stand up. He’s naked and blinking sleepily at you. 

When you shove the bundle of his clothes into his arms, he rushes to press a passionate kiss to your lips, holding the back of your head with his free hand.

You aren’t sure you want to know whether he’s truly still half asleep and genuinely hasn’t realised what is happening, or if he just doesn’t care that his wife is outside the door.

Flushed but furious at his casual demeanour, you push Art into the bathroom and close the door, just as Tashi knocks again.

 The repeated request for you to come to the door tumbles from her lips like a prayer.

You brace your hand against the door as you draw in a fortifying breath and smooth out your hair. You swear you can feel her through the door. 

The moment you open the door, Tashi is bursting in and closing it behind her. You step back, waiting for her to make the first move, for her to shout of attack or go charging into the bathroom. But she does none of those things. 

Instead, Tashi pulls you into a crushing hug. You go still, shocked but healed by it at the same time.

She pulls back, taking your face in her hands.

 “You’re a phenomenal tennis player.” Tashi says it rapturously. 

If you weren’t burning up at the feel of her hands on you, you might have laughed at how ridiculously perfect it was that those were her first words to you after over a decade. 

Tashi communicated and connected through tennis. She loved through tennis.

All you can muster is a very sincere: “Thank you.”

Tashi brushes your hair out of your face, tucking a stray piece behind your ear. You find your hands lifting, resting atop hers where they hold your cheeks.

“You need to let me coach you.” Tashi demands almost possessively.

“I have a coach.”

“They’re not me.”

“No, they’re not.”

And just like that, you were snared again. 

You had gone years without any of them, and with one word, you had allowed all three of them back into your life.

 Only this time, you know it might actually kill you if any of them leave. And perhaps it would kill them too. 

Only time would tell.

[ericityyy]

Hiii I was wondering if you could do a choi seung hyun x reader where the reader is also in a k-pop group and they do a callab together and they slowly fall for eachother? Sorry if this doesn’t make sense lol

𝐒𝐚𝐲 𝐘𝐞𝐬, 𝐒𝐚𝐲 𝐘𝐞𝐬

𝙎𝙪𝙢𝙢𝙖𝙧𝙮: 𝘛𝘸𝘰 𝘪𝘥𝘰𝘭𝘴 𝘧𝘳𝘰𝘮 𝘵𝘸𝘰 𝘥𝘪𝘧𝘧𝘦𝘳𝘦𝘯𝘵 𝘨𝘳𝘰𝘶𝘱𝘴 𝘤𝘰𝘭𝘭𝘢𝘣𝘰𝘳𝘢𝘵𝘪𝘯𝘨. 𝘞𝘩𝘢𝘵 𝘤𝘰𝘶𝘭𝘥 𝘨𝘰 𝘸𝘳𝘰𝘯𝘨? (𝘈𝘉𝘚𝘖𝘓𝘜𝘛𝘌𝘓𝘠 𝘕𝘖𝘛𝘏𝘐𝘕𝘎)

𝙏𝙧𝙤𝙥𝙚: 𝘐𝘥𝘰𝘭 𝘹 𝘐𝘥𝘰𝘭

𝙏𝙮𝙥𝙚: 𝘍𝘶𝘭𝘭 𝘍𝘭𝘶𝘧𝘧

𝙒𝙤𝙧𝙙 𝘾𝙤𝙪𝙣𝙩: 1525

𝙒𝙖𝙧𝙣𝙞𝙣𝙜: 𝘕𝘰𝘯𝘦

𝙈𝙖𝙨𝙩𝙚𝙧𝙡𝙞𝙨𝙩

𝙥𝙖𝙧𝙩 1, 𝙥𝙖𝙧𝙩 2

Over the years, putting two idols together and creating what some people call a “ship” has become normal in the K-pop industry and its fandom. During the second generation of idols, two particular groups reigned supreme, known as the kings and queens of K-pop then—and even now.

BigBang, the kings, and 2NE1, the queens, each had talented and well-known members. It was the peak of YG Entertainment when these two groups released a song or an album. And due to being in the same company, shipping was unavoidable. T.O.P and Y/N can attest to that.

With every interaction, fans always pointed out how the two looked at each other, how they behaved around one another, how they smiled when the other person was mentioned—everything and anything that related T.O.P to Y/N and vice versa was always watched closely. In times like this, what do fans need? A good collaboration between the biggest, unsinkable ship of the century, as one fan dubbed them during a BigBang interview on a variety show.

“So, what do you both say?” Yang Hyun-Suk, famously known as YG, asked the two idols before him. His usual cool demeanor was evident, his arms crossed as he waited for their reply. “It’s a simple collaboration song for an upcoming hit series, and the music directors specifically asked for both of you. They’d even give you the opportunity to help in the composing aspect, knowing that you are both capable of doing so, right?”

T.O.P looked at Y/N for a moment, her face exhibiting a thoughtful look. His heart started to drum in his ribcage. This was a huge opportunity for him to spend time with her, of course he would take it. “I’d be alright with taking the job, only if Y/N holds the same sentiment.” He tried to act calm and composed, but his mind was repeating, 'Please accept, please accept, please accept.'

His prayers were answered when Y/N smiled up at him. “I would love to. It would be a fun experience.” T.O.P mirrored her look with a smile of his own. YG looked between the two with one of his eyebrows raised, a noticeable smirk appearing on his face.

“Great! That’s settled then. I’ll let them know of your response.” YG stood up from his couch facing them and approached his office chair to face his computer.

T.O.P and Y/N hastily stood up after him, their hands politely placed in front of them. “Sir, if I may ask,” the latter interjected through the sounds of keyboard clicking, “What is the series we’ll be doing an OST for?”

・‥...━━━━━━☆☆━━━━━━...‥・

After eagerly leaving YG’s office, they immersed themselves in planning and discussing the possible feel of the song. They knew that this collaboration would hold high expectations from their fans, who had been requesting it ever since they first saw the two idols interact during their debut days. Meeting with the music directors, composers, and producers of the song, they carved out time for late-night studio sessions, leaving others amazed by their commitment despite their tight schedules.

It wasn’t a surprise when “rumors” of their collaboration sparked the internet, trending for days.

—

Koreaboo

—

[TRENDING] BigBang’s T.O.P And 2NE1’s Y/N Are Rumored To Collab In Upcoming Series “Moon Lovers: Scarlet Heart Ryeo”

Username 1: I JUST KNOW THIS IS GONNA BE HUGE!!! THE WAIT WAS ABSOLUTELY WORTH IT

Username 2: AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAHHHHHHH

Username 3: EVERYBODY CALM DOWN! THIS IS NOT A DRILL, I REPEAT THIS IS NOT A DRILL!!

Username 4: WHAT THE FUCKKKK?!?! THE CAST?!?! THE OST SINGERS?!?! I JUST KNOW THIS DRAMA IS GONNA BE ON MY TOP LIST (pun intended)

—

Reading the comments, the two laughed to make up for their sleepless nights. “I love how excited they are; it just makes me more determined to do our best for them,” Y/N said fondly, looking at her phone, her expression failing to hide her soft spot for their supporters. T.O.P hummed in response, feeling exactly the same way.

He flinched when Y/N harshly slapped both her cheeks. “Let’s do this!” Her face looked determined as ever. It made him more fond of her, especially after the few days they had spent navigating the logistics and artistry of their vision for the song. The music directors gave them a beat, a melody, and some unfinished lyrics for the chorus. They trusted the two to make the music together and to help them in every chance they had.

There was never a dull moment between them. T.O.P softly rubbed Y/N’s cheeks with his thumbs, watching as they reddened from the impact. “Don’t do that again. You can rest if you want, but don’t hurt yourself, idiot.” He flicked her forehead lightly.

Y/N deadpanned at him. “Saying that and flicking me on the forehead nullifies your point.” He just laughed in response. ‘Never a dull moment,’ he thought as he felt his heart race at their proximity.

Y/N opened the notebook given to them for ideas and writing lyrics. She hummed in tune to the lyrics with T.O.P looking over her shoulder, adding some lyrics for his own parts as well. After some time passed, Y/N felt a weight on her shoulder, shocking her. She looked and only saw dark, messy hair. Y/N smiled, patting his head, making T.O.P bury his face more into the crook of her neck. She hesitated at first but then leaned her head on his, not noticing the smile that grew on the rapper’s face.

・‥...━━━━━━☆☆━━━━━━...‥・

The shooting of the music video for the OST was simple, with the setting just in the recording studio. The two idols were side by side, singing the song. The director's main instruction was to be themselves and have fun with the song they had played such a major role in creating.

“You ready?” T.O.P asked Y/N as they both put on their headphones, the cameraman ready to capture every moment.

“I’m excited for this; it’s the first time we’re going to sing the song as a whole.” Y/N held T.O.P’s hand for a moment. “I’m proud of us, oppa.” Although he managed to maintain a cool demeanor, he was nervous that his hand might be sweaty, revealing his frantic thoughts.

The director pushed the talkback button. “You guys ready? Remember, this is to give the fans a perspective of your finished song, so just be yourselves throughout the recording. Sounds good?” The two idols nodded. “Yes.”

As the music started playing, Y/N leaned closer to the microphone.

“니 눈앞에 왔잖아 내가 여기 있잖아

너의 입술로 말을 해줘 say yes, say yes”

(I'm in front of you, I'm right here

Tell me with your lips, say yes, say yes)

The two of them looked at each other with endearing smiles as the world around them disappeared, and it was just the two of them enjoying the song. With their group, even in their solo careers, they rarely did types of music that were mellow, romantic, or light. Their music often had a touch of hip hop, so creating this song was a challenge for them, but they were definitely proud of the outcome.

“...love is true.” As Y/N finished her part, it was T.O.P’s turn to lean toward the microphone.

“간지럽게만 느껴지던 눈 빛이

이제는 익숙 하단듯이 웃음 짓지”

(Your eyes that only tickled me

Now make me smile as if I'm used to it)

T.O.P held Y/N’s hand and raised it in front of the camera, making the girl quietly laugh and lightly smack his arm. All the while, the rapper continued his verse.

・‥...━━━━━━☆☆━━━━━━...‥・

After the release of the series, the OST, the music video, the groups’ fandom gobbled everything up like they never ate for weeks.

—

YouTube

—

[MV] T.O.P & Y/N – Say Yes | 달의 연인 - 보보경심 려 OST

Username 5: MY PARENTS ACKKKK!!! WE NEED THIS LIVE ASAP!!! To those who agree, say “I”

↳ Username 7: I

↳ Username 8: I

– see 800 replies –

Username 6: can you all just see how smitten he is with her :(( our tabi is growing up and falling in love

↳ Username 9: “And if he falls in love tonight... It can be assumed…”

↳ Username 10: can somebody tag me if someone makes an edit of them with “can you feel the love tonight?” lion king style

↳ Username 11: @/username10 no

– see 5 replies –

Username 12: i love how he’s so comfortable with her and is the one initiating contact like T^T

↳ Username 13: I thought I was the only one who noticed that lol they’re so sweet istg

Username 14: PETITION FOR THEM TO HAVE THEIR OWN KDRAMA

1k likes

Username 15: But can someone look at how in love she is with him too, i swear JUST SAY YOU’RE TOGETHER

Username 16: no cause if someone looks at me the way she looks at Choi Seung-Hyun I would marry that girl on the spot

𝐀𝐔𝐓𝐇𝐎𝐑’𝐒 𝐍𝐎𝐓𝐄

this is my first choi seung-hyun (t.o.p) imagine! i really hope yall enjoyed this one cause i would keep writing for that man. he deserves the world fr! keep supporting him 🧎🏻‍♀️‍➡️ also i might do a part 2 on this depends if you all want it 👀

𝐓𝐀𝐆𝐋𝐈𝐒𝐓

none

[back2bluesidex]

Slide - The Ultimate Decision - MYG

Pairing: Producer!Yoongi X Lyricist!Reader 

Theme: Angst, smut, unplanned pregnancy. Fwb to ?

Word count: 2.2k+

Summary: 

"I can't feel my legs Hop right on the ledge, jump right off the edge"

Alternatively, 

Worst decisions are always driven by anger and alcohol; but sometimes those are also driven by Love.

Warnings: so much angst, reader's inner turmoil, unplanned pregnancy, yoongi is making things worse, Hoseok is the doctor but he is not to be shipped with the reader here, he is a catalyst though, pining, so much pining.

Listened to Slide by Chase Atlantics

Minors do not interact!!

Series Masterlist | Masterlist | Patreon (for early access)

A/N: The next chapter from the present timeline.

Taglist requests are closed for now

Read the next chapter

You fumble with your phone, scrolling down numbers after numbers but can’t find a single contact you can call at a time like this. 

The pregnancy testing kit lies on your left hand as if it has been tattooed on your skin. For some reason, you don’t feel dread creeping up through the path of your neck. 

Should you cry? Should you call Yoongi and curse him to your heart’s content? Should you ask him to take the responsibility when he is about to start living his old happy life again? 

Probably you should. 

But the thing is… you can’t bring yourself to do any of those. 

You don’t even know what you should feel or what you need to feel at a moment like this. 

You don’t even have any idea of what’s going to be your next move. 

Will you keep the baby? Or will you choose to abort it? 

But before everything, you should consult with someone, who is wiser than you. 

Your fingers hover above your mother’s contact ID, even though you know your calls are going to go unnoticed, unanswered, ignored as if you never came out of her womb. 

And things will turn even uglier if she answers your call and you manage to tell her what you have done to yourself, more or less willingly. 

So you let your phone fall limp on your lap. 

How funny - you have absolutely no one to confide in. no family, no friends, no one. 

As soon as the realization hits, your eyes start turning blurry. 

Tear drops escape one by one, dampening your cheeks, throat, collarbones. You caress your stomach. 

“What do I do now?” the mumble comes out choked. And then you are thinking of him again. 

How he cried in his sleep the first time you brought him here with you. How he repeated his actions again during his last visit here. 

Both of the time you stood on the sidelines, the center of his universe has always been Gyuri. 

In the end, though, you have been the one affected - with blooming warmth in your chest and in turn a presence of life in your womb. 

As you think of Yoongi, your mind runs back to the man who had helped you in picking him up from the streets. 

You still remember, his card said he was an obgyn. 

Your tears cease. 

Yes. As much as you need a friend or family right now, you need an expert too. 

Standing abruptly from your bed, you run toward the other side of it, reaching out for the night stand, where you had kept the man’s card more than a year ago. 

You don’t have to struggle much to find out the card, it’s there as if it has been waiting to be found all these times. 

Holding the card in your hand, opens the flood gate of fresh memory of that night, of Yoongi’s dirty face, vomit all over his clothes and him holding you tightly in his sleep. 

That was the first and last time. 

He never held you for a second time, unless you were having sex. 

Pushing down the depressing thoughts, you grab your phone and with swift fingers dial the number of the man - Jung Hoseok. 

The clock reads 9 pm on a Wednesday night. And you pray, this is not past his business hours, he has no such mentions in the card as well. 

The universe seems to grant your prayer this time, probably out of sheer pity, as the man accepts the call on the fourth ring. 

“Hello, It’s Dr. Jung Hoseok, how can I help you?” The man speaks with a professional tone that sets you on an unexplainable ease. 

“Hi, uh, I am sorry to call you like this but I had managed to get my hands on your card and I think I need your help. I, um, I’m pregnant. And I think I need an appointment.” your hands start sweating now when you realize all of it is real. You are pregnant with the baby of a man who doesn’t love you. 

Pathetic. 

“How many weeks are you?” the man asks with the same professional pronunciation. 

“I don’t know. I just found out a few minutes ago. This is my first time and I don’t know what to do.” you speak honestly. 

These are the same words you want to confess to a friend, to your mother as well and most importantly to Yoongi. But talking to a stranger, about how helpless you are, is much less nerve-wracking. 

“You are not a teenager, are you?” he speaks, suspicion laced in his voice. 

A sudden chuckle leaves your throat, “I’m twenty seven.” 

The other side of the line only hums and then after a beat he says, “we usually don’t accept appointments made via phone calls but I can guide you on how to book one. If that’s okay with you?” 

“Anything is okay with me.” 

And you are not lying. At this hour, alone in your apartment, robbed off options, in the lack of a confidant - any assistance is okay with you. 

Any assistance is fine if that means you will be able to figure out what you are going to do with a baby in your womb, gifted by the man whom you let destroy yourself for the sake of love. 

The appointment is due at 3 in the afternoon and right now the clock is at 1:26. 

The hospital is an hour's drive away, hence, if you leave now, you will still have a 30 minutes on your hand. 

But the problem is that you didn’t inform anyone formally about this secretive appointment. Applying an official leave would raise questions about the nature and reason of the appointment and you don’t want that. 

You want to protect this truth with every drop of blood your body owns. 

So, you decide to quickly drop by Namjoon's office and tell him you need the rest of the day off for some emergency. 

For a matter you know Namjoon is not privy enough to inquire about the so-called emergency. 

Much to your dismay, your plans shatter like a porcelain vase as soon as you open the door of Namjoon’s office. Because one, there is no Namjoon, two, there is Min Yoongi. 

Yoongi’s expression mimics yours as he takes you in, standing there, staring at him as if he didn’t fuck you raw and left you with consequences just a month ago. 

But then again… a month of radio silence, a month of stolen glances, a month of no skin contact, a month of no Min Yoongi was more painful than you’d dare to admit. 

Your heart thumps inside your chest as you realize, you are standing in front of the man whose baby is currently in your womb. 

You are carrying a baby! And that’s Min Yoongi’s! Screams your mind at the loudest possible volume. 

But still, by some miraculous strength, you manage to smile at him.

A casual, nonchalant smile as you are used to. 

Except this time, Yoongi doesn’t smile back. 

He looks at you with eyes so deep that you fear you will succumb to them yet again if you stay here for a moment longer. 

“Where’s Namjoon?” you get straight to the point, without wasting your time in any greeting. 

“Y/N. Wait.” but you have always been weak to the way Yoongi calls your name. This time, you are hearing it after what feels like an eternity. 

“He went out to escort a guest.” Yoongi says, flatly, his tone devoid of any emotions. It’s tough to believe he cried in your arms a month ago.

“Oh. Then can you please let him know that I have an emergency and I have left for the day? Thank you.” you don’t wait for his reply as you start turning your heels to run away already. 

His voice works like glue and stops you in your tracks. You are now unable to move. A cold, calloused palm comes in contact with your upper arm, forcing you to face the man. 

When you face him, you see his face and expression has softened. The stoic expression is now gone and you are afraid of what to make out of it. 

This is not pity, is it? 

“How are you? It’s been so long- I wanted to see you but-” 

“But there is no reason to do so, right?” you finish his sentence for him, “I am fine, Yoongi. How are you? How’s Gyuri?” 

“All good.” he ignores the mention of the woman, "What's the emergency? Are you alright?” He places the back of his palm on your forehead, checking your body temperature. 

Your eyes fill to the brim. You need to leave right now or you will start crying. 

“I- I’m fine.” you lie, removing his hand from your skin, “it’s just something personal.” 

Yoongi frowns at that “oh. You can tell me. If you need any he-” 

“I can take care of it myself, Yoongi. You have a life to lead, you have better days ahead now, why would you even care about me? I was just a fleeting chapter anyway. Please- please don’t act like our time together meant anything to you. Please, I beg.” try as you might, you couldn’t contain it anymore. 

Just like you, Yoongi, too, is taken aback with your outburst. Though his eyes are kind, if you dare to add, then those might as well be in pain. 

But his next words only break you further, “wasn’t it a given? A silent agreement that our time together wouldn’t mean much to any of us?” 

Is he challenging you? Trying to elicit a further reaction? Is it a knife to dig more in your fresh wounds? 

If yes, then you will do everything to disappoint him. 

You nod, “Yeah. You are right. Forget I have said anything. Bye.” 

Yoongi opens his mouth to say something but you are faster than his words. Before he manages to say a word, you are out of the door and shutting it on his face. 

He is cruel. 

He has always been. 

But you still love him. 

You have always had. 

The fact that Yoongi can be a little heartless has never been a shock to you. 

Nevertheless, it didn’t harm you any less when he let those careless words out of his mouth. Then again, you can not even blame him because you had been the one to place your heart in his hands and asked him to play with it. 

In the end, it’s your fault. 

And you are already paying the price in more ways than one. 

“Miss Y/N?” a nurse calls your name, pulling you out of your miserable thoughts, “you can go in now.” 

With a bow and a forced smile you leave the waiting area and enter the OPD room. 

A man is sitting at the desk, with his scrubs and white coat on, the nameplate on the table says he is the one who helped you out that night. He is Jung Hoseok. 

You failed to look at his face that night, being too busy with tending Yoongi. But now that you are looking at him, he seems to be the embodiment of everything that’s positive, light, bright - much unlike you (or Yoongi for that matter). 

His eyes light up as he takes you in, with a big smile he says, “oh? You are Miss Y/N? I remember you clearly. Please take the seat.” 

You wonder how it's even possible to recall you after seeing you once, that too a year ago, “You do?” 

“Yes. I still remember that night and your friend.” He mentions Yoongi.

If he sees the man’s mention dims you even further then he doesn’t say anything but he chooses to change the topic right away, “have you filled the form?” 

“Yes.” you hand him the piece of paper. 

He goes through it all at once, probably having everything memorized, but his eyes get stuck at one point. And you have an idea what it can be. 

“As I can see, you have not added anyone as your closest contact?” he says with a careful tone.

“Yes.” you reply briefly. 

“You need to add one person at least, maybe a friend, or a family, or the father of the baby.” he suggests. 

“I- No one knows about this just yet. I don’t have any immediate friend or family who could help me out.” your hands are now shaking. 

“Sorry to pry, but what about the father of the baby?” Jung Hoseok leans a little further on the table, as if trying to measure your facial expressions. 

“He is unaware of the situation.” 

“Are you sure you want the baby?” he voices in the softest possible tone anyone has ever used against you. 

“Yes. I want to keep the baby.” and that’s it. If the baby is one last proof of what Yoongi had with you for no less than a year, if the baby is a proof that Yoongi had once held you, cried in your arms, dipped inside you to forget his own complications, then you want to keep it. 

And this will be your ultimate decision no matter what anyone else says. 

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[glitteredrry]

sugar honey kisses

summary: harry’s next tour is joined by a special guest that has taken over his life and the world.

warning: brief mention of infertility/ miscarriage & fluff

wc: 3k+

a.n. i’ve been in a writing slump, and i just thought of this. i kind of went overboard (sorry). please excuse any spelling errors. i hope you enjoy these little blurbs. i was missing our harry, and i’m secretly manifesting another tour for us. byeee see y’all soon. 🤍

1. breaking news

Harry sat in the studio stuck on a verse on the last song to his album. He was gearing up to the release of his 4th studio album, and tour. Love on tour was going to be hard to top, but he looked forward to how this tour was going to be. He felt that he was in a better era of his life, all he hoped was that his growth would reflect on this new album. Fans were begging him to come back, and soon their prayers would be answered. His management was going to be releasing the album release date at 9 P.M. tonight. As he thoughtfully bite on the arm of his glasses, in walked in his wife YN. Harry’s eyes shot up looking at her happy to finally see her for the first time today, he had an early studio time today and only was able to give her a kiss to her head as she slept. Harry’s happiness quickly turned to nervousness as he saw a disheveled YN walking closer to him. “Doll, what’s wrong?” As she came in arm’s width from him, he grabbed onto her, and guided her to sit in his lap. Taking the tips of his fingers, he moved her hair out of her face as he watched her eyes tear up. Which only caused him to be more worried, “Harry, I wish I would've waited to tell you but I can’t.” YN reached down in her purse to grab something, and once it was shown to Harry he felt as if his heart rate had tripled in a split second.

“We’re pregnant.” She whispered to him with a smile. Harry was speechless as he stared at the test, he couldn't believe the words that were coming out of her mouth. “You’re serious,” YN nodded, touching his face for some solace. “I’m absolutely serious, we have half of us here.” She grabbed his hand holding him to her stomach. Harry’s tears came crashing down as he laid on her chest still accepting that they were with child. Joy rang through Harry’s body as he felt his wife’s comforting touch all over him. Harry reelected on their journey of building their family, going into everything they thought it would be so easy to add a baby; Yet that was the furthest thing than what it was.

After the loss of two children you never got to meet, Harry had been grief ridden for his wife. YN had the optimism Harry couldn’t bear to have during that time. She tried her best to keep him determined that they would one day have a child. They had tried for two years straight, and as of 10 months ago they stopped deliberately trying, and just left it to divine timing. There were doctor appointments to see if something was off with either of them and everything came back clear. The couple tried IVF, and that also wasn’t for them. Harry couldn’t believe that YN was sitting here pregnant after all this time. Harry quickly remembered his album and tour that was supposed to happen, and panic rushed through him. “I-I need to push back the album. I'll call Jeff, and tell him to postpone the tour.” “Absolutely not, you’re not pushing anything back, H. You’re releasing the album, and you’re going on tour. This baby will have to fit into our lives, we’re going to have a tour baby.” Harry smiled at his wife hugging her tightly, he didn’t know how this was going to happen. All he knew is that he loved and trusted his wife. If he had her he could get through anything.

2. trending topic

The world was preparing for the release of the album “Saturn Return”. He had given it that title because he believed he was in his life's peak. Harry was elated as he did his press tour. He felt reconnected to his fans in a way where he had missed them. As Harry was in the green room preparing for his last appearance before the album dropped, Harry’s manager, Jeff walked into the room with his phone in hand. “We have a slight situation going on. Pictures of YN leaving her gym class were released today. She looks visibly pregnant in them. I could release a statement to the press to calm the media, or we can ignore it.”

Harry was furious because he knew that where YN was pictured was an alley. She tried her best to be as inconspicuous as she could. YN was bent over, tying her shoe, and her shirt came up, revealing her growing belly. “I’m sure she’s going to be upset at herself,” Harry kissed his teeth, hating that he would have to break the news of this to his wife. As he continued scrolling online, he saw how fans defended their beloved YN, and Harry appreciated the support at this time. Harry looked at the time and would have to be out there in five minutes. So, he quickly dialed YN. When she answered the phone, Harry explained what had just happened, and the couple decided that the media wouldn’t push them to say anything. This was for them to reveal when they wanted to. Harry rushed to the stage as Jeff followed him, “I want you to make sure there are no questions about what is out right now, no family questions in general. Understood?” He said to Jeff sternly.

As not only a husband but now a father it was his duty to protect his unborn child. Jeff nodded and spread the message. Not commenting on this assumption from the press didn’t make it die down. It only brought more media attention to the couple. On the night of the album release, Harry decided to have a private dinner in New York to celebrate his achievement. YN wore a dress that took attention away from her bump, but as the couple approached the restaurant, paparazzi attacked the couple, asking questions, and someone hit YN, making her nearly fall to the ground. “Move back. Get the fuck away from her,” he created a barrier around YN, making sure she was on her feet. “You okay, doll?” “I’m fine. That just scared me.” Harry held her hand, pressing a brief kiss to her hand as they walked through the door. The media only got worse as time went on. He knew that they wouldn’t stop until they had an answer. So, YN thought of a way to announce the tour that Harry couldn’t resist. Harry’s hand hovered over the “share” button on Instagram as he looked at his wife. “You sure?” “Yes, press it, Harry. It’s now or never.” Harry hit the button and shut off his phone. Within ten minutes of the post being out, the couple was trending on Twitter with one simple post.

Laugh On Tour. Coming 2025. +1.

3. not your average gender reveal

YN had just become accustomed to tour life, and she would soon be leaving to prepare to give birth. Harry pampered her throughout the tour, ensuring she had her own dressing room to cater to all her needs. YN was sad to say she would leave the tour, but soon, her baby would be here. Harry took it seriously that he wouldn’t have YN flying for the last two months of her pregnancy. In the four months, YN had been on tour with Harry, fans loved pregnant YN content. She was considered a style icon with her looks not only during their time off but at shows. YN would sometimes be recorded more at his shows than him, as fans would see her on the side of the stage dancing with her pregnant belly. Harry often joked with fans and asked them about his dad's jokes and if he needed to improve them. Fans would boo or cheer, and it became a fun section of the show. “How about that one, honey?” Harry asked YN on the mic, putting her on blast. As the fans turned their attention to YN, her reaction would be what the audience followed with. YN shook her head and threw out a thumbs down. Then, the crowd followed with booing. “I love constructive criticism. I’ll work on a better one. I’m trying to make my baby laugh when they get here. I would rather get booed here than with my baby.” He shot YN a wink and continued to the next song.

The moment between the couple went viral, and people wondered what the child's gender was. As the couple sat in the bath together after a show, YN thought of something that had been in her head for two weeks since fans had been asking about the gender of their child. Harry rubbed on her growing bump and hummed as he felt himself destressing. “Harry, we should do a gender reveal for my last show with you. Well, the last one for my time on tour, what do you think?” “This tour has felt like a special one. I can’t describe it, but it feels more personal than past ones. I think that would be a great idea.” Harry’s team got ready for the big day and decided that the best idea for this last-minute gender reveal would be to do it right before the closing song, “Kiwi.” YN would be joining him on stage for the first time since they’ve been together, which would also be a massive moment for the couple. Harry took a sip of water after finishing up a song, and he couldn’t help but smile at himself, knowing that the crowd was about to go crazy. “Now, I hate to say that we are coming to an end. But we are. Soon, you will be stuck in traffic, and I will be thinking of you all and the laughter we have shared. Before you go, though, I want to invite a special guest. To all you people trying to sneak off, I see you, so sit down. You won't want to miss this. Please welcome my wife, YN Styles, to the stage.”

YN comes from stage left with a big black balloon, making the crowd scream so loud her ears begin to hurt. “Everyone calm down. My baby is sleeping. Shhh.” Harry said to the crowd as he embraced YN. “Many of you don’t know, but, today is my wife’s last show with me.” The crowd began to say “no” collectively, sounding upset she was making a departure. “It will only be a short break, but when she returns, our baby will be here. So, today, we will be celebrating our baby before their arrival. YN, will you give us the honor of sharing the gender of our baby?” Harry said as if it was nothing, and it was at that exact moment all phones in the room were up, ready to capture the iconic moment happening before them. “Wait, before you pop it, let's add some suspense, right?” Harry looked toward the band as they teased the crowd with music. There was anxious screaming across Wembley Stadium. At each sound of the music, you heard and felt the tension. Harry gave YN the cue to pop the balloon, and as she did, pink confetti flew out, causing the crowd to squeal, cry, and shout, saying how they knew it was a girl. The instrumental to Kiwi started. YN and Harry shared a sweet kiss as YN exited the stage. At the show's end, pink fireworks ended the best night of Harry’s career.

4. tour baby

Everything has been perfect for Harry and YN for the past three months. They couldn’t be happier with their baby girl Genevieve, or Vivi as Harry called her. YN left the tour five months ago, and now she had their three-month-old daughter in her hands, staring back at her. Harry decided to go on break during the middle of his tour to spend three months with his family without worrying about it. YN gave birth in December of 2025, and now, in April, Harry would be heading back for tour, and YN would be joining him again. Harry had been so consumed by their bubble that he almost dreaded coming back for a tour. YN would be lying if she said she wouldn’t miss his attention, and his time. It was the sad side of touring that she was familiar with. YN always knew his family was his number one priority. Now, going back on tour, the fact of the matter is that they aren’t his only priority. Naturally, with Harry touring, it could weigh down on him. He became tired easily or just lacked being attentive in other areas. It wasn’t necessarily his fault.

The tour just consumes his life. Harry had promised her that he wouldn’t let that happen this time around. YN was going through postpartum depression, and expressed to Harry her feelings. Harry took that into account and constantly tried to pour love into YN. Sometimes, his sugar honey kisses got her through the day. YN felt wholly supported as she transitioned to becoming a mother. Harry was the perfect spouse during this time; as Harry prepared to return to tour, there had to be many accommodations for Vivi and YN. Harry wanted to ensure they had everything and more that they needed. Harry was nervous about his baby girl coming to tour, he knew the media would wish to have the first look at his child. His only priority was to protect his family. Over the break, Harry and YN had many talks about the transition that would be taking place. Nannies were in place for the rest of the tour, and there was a schedule the couple would try their best to follow.

On the first day back from tour, the crew fell in love with Vivi. Harry made sure to have a long talk with everyone about the boundary with his most precious gift the world gave him, and he made sure to have NDAs signed for anyone who would be working on the tour. If news were to leak about Vi, he doesn’t know how he would react. Truly he would feel betrayed. As Harry was on stage, he saw signs all around the stadium asking about his baby girl. “She’s happy, we’re happy,” Harry said to a fan sign. Towards the middle of the concert, fans across the Camp Nou stadium got a notification while Harry was dancing across the stage, which caused all of them to scream.

Laugh On Tour. Barcelona I. April, 2026.

5. bittersweet first birthday

Vivi was the star of the tour, and as her first birthday approached, she knew this. As she gained consciousness, she joined Harry for soundcheck and even joined him in singing (which was just her screaming). Harry was overjoyed that it seemed like his baby girl was enjoying this side of his life. He had many fears that she would be scared of the loud music, but instead, she embraced it. As Vi got older, YN thought it would be good to start showing her to attend concerts.

Typically, during shows, Vivi would be backstage with a nanny. During Vivi's 6 months on tour, she finally sat in a suite with YN, watching her father perform on stage, and it seemed that she enjoyed it. At nine months old, even though she had protective earphones, YN often caught her hanging on to the songs she once knew in the womb. It looked as if she was relearning them as the months flew by. Now, one day away from her first birthday, Harry and YN both share tears about this bittersweet birthday. Of course, the couple was happy that their child was turning one year old while Harry was on tour, but the tour would end a month after Vi’s birthday, and it felt like an era of all of their lives would be ending. Vi was conceived right before this era of their lives, and Harry had reached heights of his career that he had never reached before. He had to credit this to his wife and child for all attributes.

Harry felt a sense of motivation and drive that he never had before. Vi was the inspiration for everything in his life, and he knew that shortly after this tour ended, he would be working on an album dedicated to his daughter. Watching her grow had caused him to jot down small notes about what he would write about for the next album. Vi was the inspiration of his life. Harry wanted to share his daughter with fans because they patiently waited and never invaded his space in public when they saw his daughter was with him. Harry kept Vi’s identity under wraps, although some articles would pull different things together about what they thought his daughter looked like. Sharing the most private thing in Harry’s life made him anxious; he was exposing Vi to the public eye's scrutiny. Harry knew how difficult it would be to keep her hidden as she grew into a toddler.

As she got older, Vi would attempt to snatch the blankets off that kept her hidden, or she would try to peek out from her stroller as the flashing noises from cameras were on her. Harry knew he wouldn’t show her often, so he wanted the first time to be a special occasion. Once he brought up the idea of singing “Happy Birthday” to her on stage to YN, it was something YN had to agree to. As Harry performed to a crowd of 78,000 people, he knew it was time for his surprise before he took a brief intermission. His fans didn’t necessarily know the date of Vi’s birthday, so this would be something else that was personal to him. “If you all would join me, it’s a very special someone’s first birthday.” The crowd cheered loudly as Harry laughed briefly at the reaction, opening his eyes in shock at the loud cheering. “That’s the best you can do?” He said sarcastically as the crowd screamed louder. “I think we should bring our guest out on stage…what do you say?” As the crowd continued to cheer, it dawned on them that this would be the first look at his daughter. “Don’t scare her too bad; she’s new to show business. Welcome my pride and joy to the stage, Vivi. Come here.” YN sat Vi down and YN instructed her to walk to Harry. Vivi walked out on stage to her father with stumbling legs as if the stage and crowd were second nature to her. As Vi walked into Harry’s opening arms, the crowd loudly aww’ed as Vi laid her head on Harry’s shoulder. “Now, don’t make my baby cry. Let’s have a nice hushed happy birthday to my Vi.” The crowd listened to Harry and joined him in singing to Vivi. Which seemed to surprise her as the crowd said her name to her, “Happy birthday, Vivi,” Harry said, then he pressed a kiss to the side of her head feeling more emotional than he thought he would.

Vi clung to his body as Harry walked off stage to an emotional YN. When the show ended, the crew decided to do something special for Vivi, which had Harry and YN thanking everyone for hours afterward. That night in the hotel, Genevive was sleeping in between the couple after her sugar crash from eating too much cake. Harry and YN watched the online outpour of love and admiration for their baby.

NEW DADRRY CONTENT

Happy birthday to the laugh on tour baby

Aww she has his eyes

Harry and YN reacted to different comments, which also led to playful arguments about who she looked more like. YN was happy with her decision that Harry continued to go on tour, creating memories for a lifetime as a family. Everything fell into the right place for the couple, and the timing couldn’t have been more perfect. As weeks passed, Harry was on cloud nine when his tour ended, and he couldn’t wait until the next tour to see how much more involved Vi would be. He thought of including her throughout his next album, too. He just wanted something to capture her at this age, his personal time capsule. His family slept upstairs in their London home, and before he joined his wife for bed, he posted one last picture to conclude the end of this era.

Thank you. Thank you. Thank you. This is goodbye for now, but not forever. I love you always. - H & V

[sunflowerhyun]

how he sees me | hwang hyunjin | part three

ᝰ summary: “Do you love me?” she asked.

In his hesitation, she found her answer.

OR, alternatively, Hyunjin is a little bit of an asshole and Y/N just misses him.

ᝰ pairing: hwang hyunjin x fem!reader

ᝰ genre: ex-childhood-friends-to-lovers, punk!hyunjin au

ᝰ warnings: cursing, references to past situations (in italics), alcohol consumption, angst, themes of jealousy (from both parties), mentions of body insecurity, mentions of death and grieving

ᝰ wc: 6-8k ish ?

ᝰ a/n: part three in da books, hope you all like it ! also, gif is not mine — all creds to the owner !

ᝰ reference the masterlist here.

─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ───

Y/N has only experienced the true feeling of rage twice in her life.

The first time was when her grandma passed away when she was only 16 years old. Her grandma was her best friend, (Hyunjin was a close second—he knew he couldn’t compare), and Y/N talked to her the same way she talked to him. Whenever she wasn’t spending time at Hyunjin’s house, they were always at her grandmas. She treated Hyunjin like he was family, and he treated her as his own nana. She would make them breakfast most mornings, (scrambled eggs with cheese, crispy bacon, and chocolate chip pancakes—that was always Hyunjin’s request), let them have sleepovers in her basement that was either always way too hot or way too cold, let them swim in her pool every summer, (where they mainly played mermaids, despite Hyunjin’s request), and sit at her kitchen table to stay up to date on the latest gossip at school while they sipped on mocktails (so they could fit the vibe more while nana had a glass of wine, listening in and chiming in). In a way, her nana was their third pea in the pod, and her nana was the only one that knew of her feelings towards Hyunjin.

Y/N’s sophomore year was tough. Breast cancer hit her nana harder than they thought it would, and by the time it was identified, it was simply too late. So when the doctors gave Y/N’s family the decision to let her die in a hospital bed or die in the comfort of her home, of course they picked the latter. When she was finished with school, she would come straight to her nana’s to take care of her, to tend to her needs. Hyunjin would come with her, would sing to her nana per her request. She always told Hyunjin he had a lovely voice, (“Such a lovely voice for such a lovely boy. You will go far in life, my dear,”), and he always sang I Can’t Help Falling in Love with You, as that was her favorite song and Elvis was her favorite artist. He would hold her hand, singing to her, but always found himself looking back to Y/N.

She passed away after a long two years in the comfort of her bed, surrounded by people she loved.

Grief hit her hard, but rage hit her even harder. She was angry at cancer, angry at the doctors who couldn’t just fix her, angry at God for not listening to her prayers. The feeling consumed her for months, had changed her attitude completely—but Hyunjin stayed with her, and he laid with her, and he was patient with her until she had finally grown to accept it.

The second time she experienced the feeling of rage was right now.

She hadn’t felt it in so long she almost forgot what it felt like. As soon as she laid eyes on a tall, skinny, fit woman with blonde hair that elegantly flowed down her shoulders, face perfectly caked with make-up and designer clothes covering her from head to toe, multiple feelings hit her at once.

The first was insecurity—which was a given. The woman was simply everything Y/N was not, the complete opposite of her, and she was gorgeous. She felt out of place sitting on the couch in her outfit she bought from a local thrift store, and suddenly had the urge to cover up her stomach that was now slightly peaking out from her sitting down. So she did just that, pulling her shirt together so it covered her. Only then did she realize her thighs were now ten times bigger now that she was also sitting down, and she shifted away from Hyunjin, his hands falling down to his own.

The second feeling she felt was jealousy. The woman was obviously beautiful, obviously had money, obviously well-respected from the way she carried herself, and Y/N was full of envy. Not particularly at all of those reasons, but because she was able to catch Hyunjin’s attention. She was able to hold him, to kiss on him, to be with him, and Y/N just wasn’t. And that’s when the rage peeked through. It built up slowly, but it quickly consumed her, just as it did years ago.

She stood up so fast it almost gave her whiplash, not even sparring Hyunjin another glance, shoving her way past the woman who had very loudly and obnoxiously called her a bitch as she did so. She couldn’t blame her for it, she had quite literally shoved past her so hard that she had stumbled a bit, but Y/N couldn’t help it. She was embarrassed, disappointed in herself, and livid—and she just wanted to get the hell out of there.

It wasn’t until she had stepped outside the trailer, the sun beating down on her face and the heat crawling its way back on her skin, that she heard someone yell her name. It was frantic, desperate.

She ignored it, feet stomping in front of her in the grass as she sped-walked further away, a hand suddenly gripping her wrist, softly pulling her back. “Y/N, stop! Please.” The voice was heard again, even more desperate than before, cracking slightly at the end. She shoved his hand off of her, not daring to turn around and face him because she knew she would cave in again, and she just can’t.

He let her go, but the footsteps followed, eventually making themselves prominent in front of her as they forced her to come to a stop. She still didn’t look at him.

“Y/N,” He panted out like he was out of breath, eyes pleading, voice scratchy, “Y/N, please just… can you just—“

“Fuck you, Hyunjin,” She let out sharply, slowly, “Just stop. You’ve obviously got more important things to do than to be chasing after me like this and bringing attention to yourself.”

She still didn’t look at him. His breaths became more faint. “Good luck with performing. I hope it makes you happy. I hope she makes you happy.”

She turned away then. He didn’t try to stop her.

——>

The walk back to Felix and Minho didn’t take as long as she thought it would. Blame it completely on the fact that she was beyond pissed at anything and everything in the world, walking so fast and shoving through literally everyone she walked past. It was actually quite easy finding them because of that when normally she would be a little timid and definitely more polite when it came to getting through large crowds. When she spotted Felix and Minho standing near the B stage, cheering and jumping up and down from a band that was currently performing, her feet carried her even faster over there.

“Heeeeey, bub,” Felix slurred out once she came into view, face slightly flushed from all the alcohol he has consumed and from the UV index being a whole 10 the entire day. He must have not worn any sunscreen. “We’ve missed yoooou! This festival is lit, forreal. I don’t know why we have never come to one of these things before.” His smile was so wide, teeth shining from the sunlight, cheeks red and freckles lathering his face. He looked so happy, so carefree. Y/N envied it.

He pulled her into a hug then, the sweat pooling off of him soaking its way onto her shirt, and she hugged him back despite the lingering feeling of annoyance she had. For a second, she imagined it was Hyunjin she was hugging, and bliss overcame her. But then, blonde hair and red lips came into her view, and she quickly shoved him off of her. Felix didn’t seem to notice the gesture, still looking at her with a giant smile plastered on his face, beer bottle dangling in his hands. He swayed a bit, bringing the bottle up to his lips, holding out his free hand towards her, wiggling his fingers. Y/N simply did not want to be touched anymore than she already had, so she stepped forward, pretending she didn’t see him.

“What, you don’t wanna hold my hand?” Felix asked with a slight pout. Y/N rolled her eyes, reaching down at the bucket of beers at their feet and pulling one out. She ignored him, popping the cap and taking a large gulp, immediately gagging and coughing right after. She felt a hand patting her back, and she wiped her mouth with the back of her hand, a grimace on her face.

“You don’t even like beer,” Minho spoke out as if she didn’t already know that.

“I don’t. But I lost my mango margarita, so this will have to do.”

“How did you manage to lose your margarita?”

“Just lost it going to the bathroom.” She mumbled back, taking another god-forsaken sip of the beer. Minho let out a hum in response, like he didn’t exactly believe her. Y/N could feel his stare on her, choosing to ignore it and not say anything back.

“Oh, Y/N,” Felix’s voice spoke rather loudly, giving her arm a little tug. She looked over at him, seeing a woman now standing beside him. “This is Dani. I met her earlier today. Wanted you two to meet!”

Dani was also gorgeous, hair up into a high ponytail, legs long and tan, shorts hugging her hips just right. Y/N could see that she was also fit and she immediately frowned, because why can’t she look like that?

“Hi!” Dani grinned, and Felix immediately let out a fit of giggles. He leaned his body into her and she didn’t hesitate to wrap her hands around him. “I’ve heard so much about you the entire day. I’m Dani, but you already know that.”

Her smile was so genuine, eyes sparkling at the sight of Felix who was still giggling like a love-struck maniac. “I think he might’ve had a little too much to drink.”

Y/N’s eyes followed the direction of Dani’s hands delicately wrapped around his waist, the way her body just naturally leaned into him, her cheeks red and eyes glistening in amusement. She took in a breath before replying, “Yeah. Looks like you’ve got it under control though.”

She was happy for him—really, she was. Felix deserved to find someone who would look at him like that. It was even better that she didn’t look like she just wanted to sleep with him and be done with it. She genuinely looked like a nice girl with good intentions. So of course, Y/N was happy for him. She just wasn’t happy.

Dani smiled at her in reply, her attention on Y/N then falling onto Felix as he began whispering something in her ear, a fit full of giggles coming out of the both of them. Y/N turned away from them, eyes focusing on the band currently performing, putting the beer bottle up to her lips.

“They’ll be coming on soon,” Minho spoke up, bumping his shoulder with Y/N’s. She didn’t need to ask who they were, stomach feeling a little queasy at the mention of them. She let out a small hum in response. “They’ll also have a little longer stage time than the others. It can get pretty intense, especially with their fans around us. Just wanted to give you a heads up.”

“Thanks, but it’s all good.” She responded with a curt nod of her head.

She could feel Minho looking at her again, could hear Felix and Dani beside her laughing, could see the mass of people dancing to the music that was currently playing. The sun was starting to go down, the sweat drying on her back, and she took in a breath, taking another sip of the beer.

——>

The stars were out.

Y/N was four beers in, feeling a little fuzzy but nothing like a couple nights ago, swaying to the music that was playing over the speakers. Another band had just finished performing and now it was a brief intermission before the last band of the night came on to end the night. Y/N knew who this band would be, had been dreadfully yet excitingly expecting it for hours. The feeling in her stomach was getting stronger each second that passed, hands slightly shaking in anticipation of the next few minutes, and yet the only thing she could seem to think of was that the stars were out.

There wasn’t too many of them, just a couple scattered across the night sky. She noticed that the brightest one seemed to be towards her right, directly over the stage, and she began to count them one by one as another memory took over her mind.

“What are you doing?” Y/N asked, plopping down beside Hyunjin who was currently sat on the bench, bookbag lying on his lap. His body was slouched down, head against the top of the back of the bench, seemingly mumbling to himself. He didn’t answer her, continuing to mumble to himself, eyes focused on the stars lining the sky in front of them.

“Hello?” She tried again, snapping her fingers in front of his face, placing her down bookbag beside her on the bench. Hyunjin quickly swat her hand away, and she let out a little giggle at the now annoyed look on his face. She asked her question again, copying his position on the bench and scooting closer to him.

“Counting stars,” He grumbled back, continuing to list off what she now recognized as numbers. She didn’t say anything back, glancing up at the sky.

The sound of the double-doors opening and voices were heard behind them, Y/N assuming it was the rest of Hyunjin’s teammates who were making their way outside the school to get in their cars and head home. Hyunjin had a late practice today, so Y/N was stuck doing homework while she waited on him for two and a half hours since he was her ride home. She didn’t mind it, though.

“28!” He shouted, and Y/N jumped slightly, “28 stars! At least that’s what I can see in front of me.”

Y/N hummed in response, letting out a yawn, rubbing her eyes gently. Hyunjin turned his head to face her, “You’re tired already? You’ve barely done anything today. You must have gotten tired watching me do all that running on the field.”

Y/N hit him lightly on the shoulder in reply, mumbling at him to shut up, and he let out a soft chuckle in reply. The sound of car doors slamming shut and engines starting up were suddenly heard, and Y/N glanced up to see that everyone was starting to head home. She looked back over to Hyunjin. He was already looking back at the sky.

“Infinity,” He spoke out in a soft tone, voice carrying through the soft breeze. Y/N looked at him in confusion. “You know how long it would take to actually count the stars? Infinity. That’s what’s so interesting about it. You think you’ve counted them all, think you’ve finally got it down, but then another one pops up and then you’re counting again. Just a never ending cycle. You’ll never get it right, no matter how much you want to.”

His hair was held back with a headband, softly moving from the wind, posture relaxed, eyes soft and showing a bit of exhaustion. The words sat for a minute, then as if he broke out of a trance, he turned towards her, “Sorry. I know you’re ready to go home. We can go now.”

He moved his hand to dig into the pocket on his shorts to retrieve his keys, but Y/N stopped him, gently placing her hand on top of his. He looked at her, curling up into a little ball as she scooted even closer to him, hands wrapping around his arm.

“It’s okay. We can stay a little bit longer.”

A shrill of screams suddenly broke her out of her little trance, the crowd seeming to go completely wild as the lights turned off. It was dark, the screams growing even more intense as a guitar riff began playing over the speakers. The beat then changed to an upbeat R&B sound, strobe lights flashing in red colors as a video of each of the members began playing on the big screen, ending with Hyunjin. He was posing for the camera, a white tank top on with tight leather pants, long hair slicked back. She felt her heart begin to race when the video cut off and it went black again.

It wasn’t long before the music started up again, the lights immediately coming back on, the beginning of a song starting. Screams began to ring through her ears, more intense than before, and she stumbled a little as she felt someone knock into her backside, Minho being quick to steady her and shoot a glare at whoever it was behind them. She had stumbled again, Minho now shouting at the swarm of people behind them, but Y/N didn’t pay attention to that. How could she, when Hyunjin was now visible on the stage, the lights twinkling behind him so elegantly.

He was dressed in a red silk cardigan with a black tank top underneath, black leather pants framing his legs so perfectly. Half of his hair was tied back into a bun making his facial features more prominent, making his eyes even more darker than they already were. Y/N could tell by the way he was carrying himself on the stage that something was off. Chan and Han were yelling at the crowd, running down the walk-way while playing their guitars, the crowd going crazy. Changbin was standing up behind the drums twirling the drumsticks in his hands, a smirk on his face. And Hyunjin was standing in the center, seemingly frozen in place.

It wasn’t until Changbin hit the drums that seemed to bring him out of his little trance as he began prancing down the stairs to stand in front of his mic. He grabbed it with both of his hands, closing his eyes as he began to sing the beginning of the song.

Time stopped.

Suddenly, Y/N couldn’t see the swarm of people standing around her. She couldn’t feel them knocking into her back, couldn’t hear their voices that were overpowering the song. Everything was a blur, a simple fragment of her imagination—everything was a blur, except for him.

Y/N always knew Hyunjin could sing. He had that ability to perfect everything he did, so of course it was no surprise when she heard him for the first time.

The first time she heard him was when they were both fifteen, in their freshman year of high school. Y/N had just gotten dropped off at his house, had made her way up the stairs and towards his bedroom, when she heard him. He was in the shower, the bathroom door cracked open slightly, singing the words to She Will Be Loved. She found herself walking closer to the door, heart pounding in her chest, hand opening the door a little bit wider to hear him better. He had stopped, then, calling out her name. She stumbled back, a string of apologies coming out of her mouth.

“You wanna see me naked or something?” He had said to tease her.

“No, you idiot! I was trying to hear you sing.”

She remembered how his grin dropped so suddenly, so uneasily—the droplets of his wet hair falling down, soaking his t-shirt. He looked as if he was experiencing an inner turmoil, eyes looking everywhere but at her, cheeks pink in slight embarrassment.

“It’s beautiful,” She whispered out. He looked back at her. “You’re beautiful, Jinnie.”

Y/N always knew Hyunjin could sing, but nothing could have prepared her for this.

It had started off soft, smooth, sweet—just like honey. Then it began to progress into something entirely foreign, entirely compelling. His voice got louder, more intense, and then he was belting out lyrics in a way Y/N had never experienced before. And as he stood there, expressing himself in a light Y/N had never seen him in, she felt it. All the years of friendship—the years of heartbreak, of self-acceptance, of discovery, of love—she felt it all, and she felt it hard. It was overpowering, hitting her all at once like a train crushing her body at full speed. Except it wasn’t a train, after all. It was Hyunjin.

It was always Hyunjin.

Suddenly, she felt a soft pressure on her hand. It knocked her out of her trance for a second as she glanced over, seeing that Minho had grabbed ahold of her hand. It was gentle, barely there at all, but she found herself smiling softly at the gesture, noting that he wasn’t exactly the type to show any form of affection. She didn’t realize a tear had fallen down her cheek until it reached her chin. He must have noticed sooner.

She held it back.

——>

“I can’t believe you didn’t go home with Lix and his new fling.”

Y/N looked at Minho, hands playing with the ends of her braids as she sat on the couch, mumbling out a small thanks as he handed her a cup of diet coke. “Did you just hear what came out of your mouth? Of course I’m not going home with them.”

“Yeah but I doubt you wanna be here either,” He replied, leg bumping against hers as he sat down beside her. He glanced at her, “You can go back to mine if you want. You really don’t have to be here. I can call a ride for you.”

She took a sip of the diet coke, wishing there was some rum in it, but not particularly in the mood to drink anymore tonight. “I’m fine. If I want to leave, I’ll leave, trust me.”

Minho didn’t look too convinced, (he never did), taking a sip of his beer before letting out a sigh. He was about to say something else when a chorus of screams flew through the room. She looked up, seeing that Chan, Han, Changbin, and a couple of other people were coming in the room. She tried to ignore the slight feeling of disappointment she felt when she didn’t see Hyunjin.

Minho immediately stood up, heading straight towards Chan and the other guys. Y/N could hear him telling him how sick they sounded, how awesome they looked on stage. Y/N could not agree more—they were definitely the highlight of the entire festival. She understood now why the crowd was so hype and why so many people were swooning over them. They were all great looking guys, could all play instruments and sing exceptionally well, could all carry a rhythm when they moved. So really, it was no surprise that they were successful.

A call of her name broke her out of her thoughts and she glanced up to see that Minho was waving her over. She quickly stood up, not wanting to be more rude than she already was, and made her way over towards them, Minho placing a hand over her back as he edged her closer.

“Y/N!” Chan grinned, wasting no time in pulling her into a quick hug, “I’m so glad you came! I hope you enjoyed yourself and we didn’t completely suck cause that would be really embarrassing otherwise.”

“Of course not,” She giggled in reply, “You guys were amazing, seriously. I’ve never been to a festival like this before but you guys stole the show, by far.”

“Don’t make me blush, now,” He teased, “But seriously, thanks for coming and supporting us. Means a lot. To all of us.”

Y/N’s smile loosened a little at his comment, feeling like there was a deeper meaning behind it, especially when seeing the sincerity and softness in Chan’s expression. Before she could say anything back, Chan had pat Minho on the back, flicking his head over towards the table full of food and drinks. “Want anything to eat? We’ve got an entire table full of whatever you can think of. Drinks, too. Get whatever you want.”

“I can go grab us a plate to share,” Y/N offered, seeing that the other guys and a couple of women were now making their way over to them. Her social anxiety was starting to brew, and she was a little hungry.

Minho nodded at her before beginning to engage with the other guys and Y/N took this as her cue to head to the food table. She politely greeted one of the waitresses who was standing behind the table before grabbing ahold of a plate, awkwardly making her way down the table in search of what they would want. Chan really wasn’t lying when he said there would be anything you could think of.

She was reaching for a couple of bacon wrapped jalapeños when a voice startled her.

“Hey,” The voice spoke, causing Y/N to jump a little as she whipped her head around, eyes widening slightly in surprise when seeing Han standing beside her. “Sorry, didn’t mean to scare you.”

“You’re fine,” She let out in reply, voice soft, timid. What was he doing here talking to her? Shouldn’t he be talking to everyone else?

He let out a sigh before grabbing a bacon wrapped jalapeño from the table, popping it in his mouth. It was silent for a couple seconds, the only sounds being from the distant chatter in the background and his light smacking. Y/N could practically feel the waitresses eyes boring holes into her, probably also wondering why he was making conversation with her.

She was adding a couple of veggies to the plate when he began to speak again. “So, uh—I felt like I needed to apologize. To you.”

Y/N could feel her hands starting to sweat. “You don’t—“

“Yes, I do,” He quickly cut her off, grabbing another popper. He let out another sigh. “Look, I didn’t mean to make such a scene earlier today. To be fair, I didn’t know what you looked like. Obviously I know who you are from Hyunjin, but he never showed me pictures or anything like that. He was always weird about it. I just know you guys have some history and all that and you mean a lot to the guy, so.”

Y/N could feel her ears start to ring, the sweat now becoming more prominent on her hands she felt like the plate would slip right out. Her mouth was starting to go dry, throat closing up, because what did he just say? Hyunjin talked about her?

“And that was just totally uncalled for, anyway. I mean, you falling and getting hurt and everything. I hope you didn’t get too hurt, by the way. Our bodyguards can be too much sometimes. Anyway, I just wanted to come up and formally apologize to you. I hope—“

It was as if one word was going through one ear and out the other, Y/N not able to comprehend anything else coming out of Han’s mouth. It was not that she didn’t appreciate his apology, or his now constant rambling, but the fact that Hyunjin had just walked in. And the same girl from earlier was with him.

The feeling of rage slowly started to creep back inside her seeing that she was perched so delicately on his arm. Her hands were manicured perfectly, fitting oh so perfectly wrapped around his arm. Y/N wondered for a second if he paid for them, if he treated her to a spa day frequently so she could always have them so pretty and soft. So pretty and soft for him.

Her smile was wide, teeth so white and straight, lips adorned with a sensual shade of red. Hyunjin always said he liked red lipstick on a girl, as red reminded him of roses, of intimacy, of love. Did he make her wear red all the time? Did he love the way her lips felt against his? Did he love her?

Of course he did—he had to.

And what makes the icing on the cake is the fact that she is exactly what she always pictured as his type. Fit, stylish, petite—she looked like someone you would see in a painting. She fit his aesthetic. She fit him.

And god—seeing her wrapped around him hurt. It hurt a lot.

She hated it.

“Nice, they have our favorites!” Minho let out excitingly, grabbing a popper from the plate she was still holding. She didn’t even realize he had made his way over here. He must have been here for a minute, as Han didn’t greet him, nodding his head in agreement, mouth full of poppers. “Did ya eat already?” He mumbled out.

“Yep,” She lied, not having much of an appetite at all now. She doesn’t think she could stomach anything right now.

“God, these are so good.” Minho groaned out after pulling her into his side, making conversation with Han. Y/N could feel her eyes boring holes into the woman who was now speaking with another group of women, laughing so loudly and so obnoxiously that she just wanted to go throw this plate of damned jalapeños on her Chanel dress.

Minho had leaned over her to grab a couple more, placing one in front of her lips in attempt to feed her, as he sometimes did with her and Felix. She didn’t really want to, but didn’t want to make Minho start asking if she was okay again, so she took a bite, pretending she liked it even though she didn’t want to.

Glancing back up, instead of her eyes locking back on the woman stuck up Hyunjin’s ass, she found her eyes locked on him. And he was already starring back.

Someone was talking to him, arm wrapped around his shoulders, but he didn’t seem to be paying them any attention. She watched as his gaze went from being on her to being on Minho’s arm that was still around her body. His gaze darkened, eyebrows furrowing as he watched him pull her closer once he laughed at something Han had said, eyes shooting back up towards her own.

It was starting to feel hot. She felt like her body was on fire, could practically feel sweat trailing down her back. He kept looking at her like she was his last meal, and it was starting to suffocate her.

“Here, take this,” She handed the plate of food to Minho who took it without complaint, “I’m gonna go outside for a sec. I’ll be back.”

Not waiting on him to reply, she quickly shook out of his arms and made her way towards the back door, swiftly opening it and letting out a gasp of air. It was much cooler out here, less suffocating; she finally felt like she could breathe again.

She let out another breath before walking over towards the brick wall, sliding down to sit on the ground. She tilted her head back, glancing up at the sky, taking the time to begin counting them in her head in attempts to calm herself down a bit.

One, two, three, four, five, six, seven… and then the door opened.

She kept counting, kept her gaze on the sky, kept focusing on her breathing. Because if she didn’t, she would look over to see who had just came outside. And she had a feeling she knew who it would be.

Her guess was right.

“I didn’t know you would be here.”

The words hung in the air for a couple seconds, heart constricting lightly at the tone. She still didn’t look over.

She had gotten to fifteen when he spoke again.

“Why are you here?”

She tried to ignore the pang she felt in her chest at his question, wanting to slam herself against the wall when realizing he wasn’t going to leave even if she ignored him. He never did.

“I’m here with Minho. He wanted to come.” She replied curtly.

“Minho?” He spoke out, the name sounding bitter coming out of his mouth, “What, you fucking him or something?”

She stopped counting, then, glancing over to see him standing in front of her, arms crossed over his chest, gaze piercing through her. “Why do you care?” She let out, watching as his jaw clenched slightly.

He didn’t say anything back. She could see that his breathing was starting to pick up, his fingers tightening on his arms from where they were currently crossed. “Why don’t you just mind your damn business and go back inside to your little doll that’s been hanging on your arm all night, and just leave me alone.”

She immediately regretted it when the words came out of her mouth, but that feeling soon went away when he started talking again.

“Oh, so that’s what this is about?” He scoffed out, smirk framing his plump lips, piercing shining in the night, “You getting an attitude with me because of some girl you saw me with? That’s cute.”

“Shut up, Hyunjin,” She replied back, voice cracking slightly, adjusting her legs slightly. She felt a slight breeze between her thighs when moving, Hyunjin’s eyes flickering downwards for a second before landing back on her. “Just… leave me alone. Please.”

Her voice cracked again at the end, soft and pleading. He immediately picked up on her body language, how she curled herself more into a ball, how her eyes struggled to meet his, how her lip started to quiver. He let out a sigh, walking over and sitting down beside her gently, hands over his knees.

“I just wanna talk for a minute.”

“We’ve had years to do that, Hyunjin,” She whispered back.

It was quiet. The longer they sat there, the longer she realized how much she missed him. She hated the fact that even though their arms were barely grazing one another, even though she was finally breathing the same air as him again, even though they were finally talking, she felt her heart swell, felt the butterflies swarming in her stomach. And it pained her to sit here and feel these things because she knows she shouldn’t.

But she does. She always has.

She felt him move beside her, could see his head fall back onto the wall as he looked up to the sky. His fingers twitched, a sigh escaping his mouth. He inched a little closer.

“There’s just so much I want to say, I need to say, but I don’t know where to start,” He spoke, eyes never leaving the sky, “I’m just… I wasn’t expecting to see you again. I don’t know how to act or what I’m supposed to do now that you’re here. I just… I’ve got so much to say.”

Her eyes focused in on the brightest star. It outshined the others, and it was glowing, just as Hyunjin was tonight.

“I know you hate me,” He let out with a forced chuckle, “Fuck, I know you hate me. And I know you say you want me to leave you alone, but I don’t think you mean that. So I’m not going to. I know now is probably not a great time, and I know I’m starting to ramble, but I hope we can maybe… you know, start over, or something. I don’t know… what do you think?”

“We’re not supposed to talk when we’re looking at the stars,” She softly replied. She saw his head move out of the corner of her eye, his gaze burning holes into the side of her face. “Last time we talked when we saw the stars, you disappeared for six years. I’d rather not say anything, right now. Let’s just sit here a little bit longer.”

And as they sat there, so close, yet so far away from one another, Y/N focused back in on the brightest star and noted how it was directly between them, almost as if it was trying to connect them back together. She could only hope it wouldn’t steer her wrong again.

─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ───

▫️taglist: @hyundumpling, @hhwangsmoon, @luvyblossom, @inthefairygrove, @rebecca-johnson-28 , @betweensupernovasandstars , @allaboutsan , @babigriin , @vixensss

[narumi-gens]

yandere!morax/zhongli x adeptus gn!reader

morax finds you where he always does on the few occasions he allows you time to yourself, kneeling in the garden with your hands folded in your lap and your head respectfully tilted down. it's been only a few decades since he took you for his own, a self-reward of sorts for a still freshly won war.

and what are a few decades to the immortal?

he supposes you spend so much time here because the gardens are so wide and open that they make the high, stone walls that keep you caged within his grasp seem slightly smaller by perspective.

there's a soft, spring breeze in the air, which picks up for just a moment as he chooses to sit on the grass directly in front of you with his legs crossed before him and his wrists casually resting on his knees.

your head remains down and your eyes stay closed, choosing not to acknowledge his presence.

"have you not grown bored after spending so much time alone with nothing but your thoughts?" his deep voice and teasing tone shatter the garden's tranquility, yet still you refuse to look at him. "I'm happy to provide you with whatever book you would like. all you need to do is ask."

"my prayers keep me occupied."

it's a dangerous admission on your part. as liyue's archon, he hears every prayer his people make yet he's never once heard yours. which means that your prayers aren't to him.

but he'll indulge you and play your game – for now at least.

"what do you pray for?"

"for liberation." your answer isn't a surprise. what else could you pray for?

"oh? and to whom do you pray?"

finally, you open your eyes and lift your chin to meet his gaze. there's a hardness in them that reminds him of the jewels the people of liyue put so much time and effort into mining. even the warm, gentle wind and the smell of blooming flowers it brings are incapable of softening your demeanor.

"the archons."

any trace of amusement immediately vanishes as his eyes flash dangerously. his pupils morph into the slits of his true, draconic form.

"I am your archon."

he doesn't mention the contract you signed during the archon war in concert with the other adepti, agreeing to protect liyue. he doesn't need to.

although with your powers now sealed away through his own means, there's little protection that you would be able to provide should you ever actually be called upon to do so. the only part of the contract that still pertains to you as you are now, as he's made you now, is the provision accepting morax as liyue's archon.

it's a provision that he worded carefully in the specific contract he offered you, where you not only accepted him as the prime of adepti, but also swore eternal subservience to him as part of it.

"you are one archon," you remind him coldly, raising an eyebrow in challenge, daring him to contradict what is fact. "one of seven."

he offers you a patronizing smile in return.

"tell me, then. which of the remaining six do you think would be foolish enough to answer you?"

he only decides to humor you because he knows the answer is none of them. no archon would risk upsetting the peaceful but precarious balance they had just spent centuries, more than a millennium, fighting for.

and to break this unspoken contract amongst the seven in order to steal his greatest treasure right out from under him wouldn't just be foolish. it would be reckless.

but then his sight turns a pure, blood red that he hasn't experienced since the final days of the archon war. his fingers begin to elongate as they transform into claws. his horns make a grotesque cracking sound as they emerge from his skull. his teeth sharpen as he bares his fangs openly.

because a sudden divine energy has appeared between you and you open your clasped hands to reveal a glowing, teal-colored gem bearing a pair of spread wings.

"the god of freedom, it would seem."

[writeonwhiskey]

act like you love me: ch 7 (18+) MDNI

a/n: this is coming out at this random hour because i forgot to send out the snippet on the mailing list again and i feel bad 😔 enjoy! word count: 4,780 tracklist: love untold, railway (i've once again placed in the chapter where these songs were most impactful while writing if you wanna feel that vibe out) [ fic master list ]

7 - The Scene After the Scene

WEEK 6 (continued)

Getting through that rehearsal took all the thoughts and prayers. It was a constant barrage of physical contact with Hyunjin after three days of being apart. Granted, that’s not a lot of time, when you think about it, but you haven’t gone more than a day without seeing him since you started filming.

You didn’t expect to miss him. You didn’t expect to leave set wanting more.

But you did. And you still do.

A few weeks ago, you couldn’t have fathomed feeling remotely fond about that man, let alone yearning to be near him. But in the time that has passed, you’ve seen and learned so much that opposes your initial assumptions of him. His gentle, compassionate side has been on display more frequently and that, combined with all that continues to shift between you—since dinner, since the club, since the camping trip—is threatening to undo your professionalism.

It’s a continuously growing revelation.

The biggest takeaway from today, though, is that Chan approved of the choreographed scene. He sat and listened to the suggestions you and Hyunjin had come up with for the filming style, too. You’re beyond thankful to Chan for being willing to work with you, and to Hyunjin for helping you voice your concerns, addressing them, and eagerly working to make it something you’re comfortable with having on screen.

After you wrapped for the day, you were tempted to hang around in your trailer until Hyunjin finished but figured it would be best not to.

However, since coming back to your hotel room, all you’ve thought about is the potential repercussions of pursuing something physical with Hyunjin. But with the way that rehearsal went down, you also considered how good it might feel when the layers of clothing are finally removed.

You close your eyes, sinking into the couch as you imagine the feeling of his hands touching every part of your body, his lips trailing kisses down your stomach and your pussy quivers at the thought. You bite your bottom lip, hand creeping toward the waistband of your pajama bottoms.

You have to be professional at work. But when you’re home alone…

Your phone suddenly buzzes next to you, and you startle, heart pounding as if you’ve been caught. Your eyes widen, reading the name on the screen: Persistent Prince 👑.

Why right now?

Is this a sign?

Or maybe an omen?

You contemplate letting it go to voicemail, but you’re too curious and too hopeful right now. You clear your throat, press the answer button and put the phone to your ear.

“Do you bother all your co-workers this much?” you ask dryly, as if you weren’t just about to diddle your fucking bean to thoughts of him.

“No. Just you.” He replies and your heart smiles. “So, you’re up?”

“Clearly.”

“You busy?” he asks, ignoring your sarcasm.

Although you’ve always spoken to each other this way, it doesn’t have the same weight of pettiness and bickering as it once did.

You quirk a brow. “Why?”

“Meet me in the lobby in thirty minutes.”

“What if I’m busy?”

“If you were you wouldn’t have answered. Unless…” he trails off.

“Unless…?”

“You’ve been waiting for my call.” You can practically hear the smile in his voice. “See you in thirty.”

He hangs up, giving you no time to accept or decline.

You could disregard the invite and stay cooped up in your room for the night. In fact, that’s probably the best choice.

But you’re already standing from the couch, forsaking that logical little voice in the back of your mind. You head straight to the bedroom, puzzled about what to wear. He didn’t mention a dress code. Jeans and a t-shirt? Or something sexier? He did seem to like your outfit at the club a lot.

No. The least you can do is not tip this in that direction by wearing anything too thought-provoking. You’re just going to hangout. That’s it. Jeans and a t-shirt it is.

Thirty minutes later you’re standing in the lobby of the hotel, looking around nervously for fear that Minho or Han might see you. But you remind yourself that you hang out with them all the time.

This wouldn’t seem any different...

Hyunjin emerges from the other elevator moments after you. He’s clad in dark clothing, a hat pulled low and covering far too much of his features. He gestures towards the exit, and you walk out together.

“Where are we going?” you ask as Changbin takes off.

“You’ll see when we get there,” he replies.

You hide your smile. A surprise?

“What made you call out of the blue?” you ask.

“We didn’t have a lot of time together on set today.”

You can’t be sure, but it feels like an ‘I missed you’ is hidden in there somewhere.

You missed him, too.

When you arrive to the destination, Hyunjin gets out first and holds the door open.

“Thank you, Changbin,” you say on the way out.

“I’ll text you when we’re done.” Hyunjin says, leaning in the car to speak to Changbin.

“I’m going to bed. It’s a thirty-minute walk back. You’ll be fine.” Changbin replies.

Hyunjin huffs, shaking his head as he closes the door. “It’s hard to find good help these days.”

You nudge him playfully with your shoulder.

“An illusion museum?” you ask, reading the sign above the entrance.

Hyunjin grins. “Thought we could use a night of fun.”

[song: love untold]

Inside, the place is quiet—almost closing time—which means you have most of it to yourselves. The first room is a giant mirrored maze, and you’re both immediately separated, laughter echoing off the glass as you keep running into your own reflections.

“You good?” Hyunjin calls.

“No,” you say between laughs. “I’m fucking nauseous—there’s too many of us.”

Eventually, you find him again—his face breaking into a relieved smile. And for a second you just stand there, facing each other. Reflections of the two of you ripple across every surface, warped and multiplied. It’s a perfect representation for the situation you’re in—endless possibilities and outcomes.

He reaches out and your hands meet against the mirror first, to which you both chuckle. Then he finds the real you and laces his fingers through yours to pull you close.

“There you are.” He places a quick peck to your lips.

You bite your bottom lip to keep from smiling too widely.

“Next room,” you suggest, pulling away.

In the upside-down kitchen, Hyunjin jumps into character, pretending to stir invisible soup from the ceiling, and insists on snapping photos with the worst angles imaginable.

“You’re going to regret these,” you warn. But as you scroll back through them, he’s perfectly photogenic in every single one, regardless of the angle. “Your face is so unfair.”

“You can thank my mother.”

“Not your dad?”

“Maybe for my humor,” he shrugs.

At the forced perspective wall, you pretend to be a towering giant while he crouches small in the corner. “This is kinda how you make me feel on set,” he teases. “Tiny.”

You continue throughout the other rooms, your bodies like magnets. You drift apart for a while when exploring and taking pictures but come back to each other’s side right after. He holds your hand a few more times, steals a few more kisses. And after a while you stop acting like it annoys you.

When you’ve gone through all the exhibits, he thanks the employee for letting you stick around after closing and you exit.

“Convenience store run?” he suggests when you’re outside.

You hesitate. This would be a good time to call it a night. That would be the wise and responsible choice. But you did just have fun with him, doing something completely normal and nothing like the NC-17, perhaps XXX, content that’s been plaguing your mind.

And yet, you don’t feel like you’ve had enough time with him.

You still want more.

“Yeah,” you reply, smiling.

You walk in the direction of the hotel and stop at the first convenience store. The inside is fluorescent and freezing. You each grab a green basket at the entrance and start down the aisles like it’s a timed competition. Hyunjin tosses in triangle kimbaps, banana milks, and a pack of shrimp chips without hesitation. You, more thoughtfully, grab ramyeon, a bar of dark chocolate, and two bottles of water.

You both come to a stop at the wall filled with a wide array of gummy snacks.

“You’re going for sweet and spicy,” he observes, peeking into your basket. “Classic.”

“You’re going for chaos,” you reply, eyeing the random snack combo he’s put together. “Is this your usual dinner?”

He shrugs. “Tonight’s my last cheat night. I’ll be hitting the gym every day now until the shirtless scene.”

You gulp.

Hyunjin shirtless is the last thing you should be picturing about right now.

Your eyes travel to his chest of their own accord, but you quickly avert your attention to the gummies on the shelf and grab a peach pack.

You don’t even like that flavor.

“Do you want to make the ramyeon here and eat outside?” you ask.

“Is there another option?”

“We could go back to the hotel…” you trail off, letting the offer linger in the air.

“To our separate rooms?” he tilts his head to the side.

“Depends if you know how to cook without burning down the place,” you tease. “…but we could go to my room.”

“You okay with that?”

You shrug. You’ve done well keeping yourself in check so far. You can handle this.

Maybe.

He pays for your haul and you resume the twenty-minute walk back to the hotel. It’s mostly a silent trek, and you can’t help but wonder what he’s thinking. He knows this is a bad idea too, doesn’t he?

On the elevator ride up, you’re racking your brain for the state you left it in. You’ve made a conscious effort to keep it relatively clean and if anything is out of place, he doesn’t comment on it when you enter.

You advise him to sit at the table while you take the bags into the kitchen, but he doesn’t listen. He’s at your side, opening cabinets and drawers, taking out cooking utensils and seasonings.

“Please, you’re a guest.”

“Fine.” He says, after taking out a pair of bowls and setting them next to the stove.

“Get comfortable—you can take off your disguise,” you tell him.

He pushes off his hood and removes his hat before sitting on one of the barstools across from where you’re prepping.

Your hotel smells like garlic within minutes. You’re stirring a pot of noodles, vaguely aware of Hyunjin looking more at you than the food.

“You actually know what you’re doing,” he says.

“Shocking, I know.” You toss him a playful look over your shoulder. “I feed myself like a grown-up.”

“You’re ruining my image of you.”

“And what was that?”

He grins. “Someone who survives entirely off iced americanos and anxiety.”

You snort, putting the noodles into the bowls and sliding one in front of him. “You’ve got me mixed up with Han.

“That’s actually pretty accurate,” he laughs, picking up his chopsticks to take a bite. He blows on the noodles before slurping them up. The look on his face giving away just how hot they are. “This is really good,” he manages to get out.

“You sound surprised…again.”

“I am surprised. You’re hiding all these domestic skills.”

“Guess we’re both full of secrets.”

The clink of chopsticks against ceramic takes over for a moment as you both eat.

“I like this,” he says eventually.

“What?”

“Hanging out with you.”

There’s that openness again—the thing that sneaks up on you when he stops trying to be amusing, or charming, or anything else.

You opt not to respond verbally, nodding your head instead.

He offers you the last bite of his triangle kimbap, and you shake your head, but he leans forward anyway, holding it out.

You sigh at the weight of this gesture. You can deny your feelings all you want, but he doesn’t seem to have any intention of doing the same. You take the offered bite from his hand.

When you’ve both finished eating, Hyunjin insists on washing the dishes, not accepting your rebuttal that he’s a guest. So, you sit sideways on the couch and watch him work, making small talk. He tells you he has a few more projects coming up after this to finish out the rest of the year and won’t have a real break until December. You finally tell him about your conversation with Chan.

“KBS?” he repeats. “No shit?”

You nod.

“Are you going to do it?”

“My agent thinks I should. But I don’t know if it’s the right career move…”

He’s silent for a moment as he continues scrubbing at the dishes.

“Do you want my input?”

You don’t know when it was that you came to rely on his guidance, but you’ve stopped questioning what he tells you career-wise as anything other than helpful. He always seems to put you first, more so even than your agency.

“Please.”

“I think you should take it. Chan’s right about that—it’s a great opportunity. It will be good publicity for our show, but it also gives the general public a chance to fall in love with you,” he says, and your brain gets stuck on how those last four words sound falling from his lips. “All it takes is one high ranking exec’s teenage kid to start blabbering about how great you are, and they’ll be calling you up with more work.”

He dries his hands and comes to sit on the couch, his right thigh just near your feet.

“You think so?”

“I know so. I understand what you’re up against, but you’re really kind of amazing and I don’t think you see that the way everyone else does.”

“Situations like that interview tend have a longer lasting impression than anything positive,” you say.

“Fuck that guy.” He repeats his sentiments from a few days ago. “It’s easy to let the negativity cling to you in this industry. You can’t let it.”

You nod.

He glances around the room before turning to you with a smirk. “Alright, you’ve seen my art, my hidden passion. Where’s yours?”

“I don’t have a penthouse suite, so I packed light,” you tell him.

“Pity,” he clicks his tongue and shakes his head.

You smack him on the arm.

“There’s gotta be something you come home to unwind to.”

“I really didn’t bring anything,” you shrug. “I do have a Lego collection of landmarks from around the world at home. My dad is in the army, and he’d get me one of every place he was stationed, and I’ve just kept up with it on my own.”

“That’s nerdy. But cute.”

“Don’t make me hurt you, Hyunjin.”

He smirks. “I could be into that.”

You offer a small chuckle to brush it off.

He lifts your legs from beside him and drapes them across his lap, his hands resting on top. He doesn’t touch you beyond that, doesn’t bring you closer. He just looks—at your face, your mouth, your eyes—and suddenly, it’s quieter than it should be.

You speak first, wanting to lighten the air. “Do you always stare at people like this?”

“Only when I’m trying not to do something stupid,” he murmurs.

You swallow, looking down at his hands, unsure whether you should pull your legs away, or move yourself closer.

“Tell me not to,” he says. “And I won’t.”

You must stay silent for too long. Because without warning, his hands grab your hips, sliding you toward him until the back of your thighs are pressed against him. Your pulse quickens at the sudden movement—the closeness.

You look up, meeting his gaze. “We shouldn’t.”

His eyes drop to your mouth again, lingering there for a moment.

“Is that a no?”

You know you shouldn’t. He knows you shouldn’t. And yet, you shake your head anyways, and he leans in slowly, giving you time to move or change your mind.

But you don’t.

When his lips meet yours, it’s gentle at first. His body is tense, like he’s still holding back. But when you wrap your arms around his neck, hands caressing his head, you feel the change in him. He really kisses you then. No hesitation. His mouth claims yours, tongue slipping between your lips like he owns you already.

You’re both aching with everything unspoken—the stolen glances, the unfinished thoughts, the pent-up energy and tension from filming and rehearsing. But you can’t shake how good it feels to be connected to him like this. And you still want more.

You break the kiss, resting your forehead against his as you both catch your breath. You pull away, leaning back until you’re lying flat on the couch. You keep your eyes on him, grabbing his shirt to pull him closer. He readjusts you, then himself before settling on top of you, fitting between your legs as if he belongs there.

He kisses you again and when you arch your back, pressing your chest into him, his hands snap to your sides like he needs to hold you still or he’ll lose control.

“Take it easy,” he warns against your lips.

Was he intending only to kiss? Perhaps that would be okay…

But the heat between your thighs says that it’s not.

So, you nip at his bottom lip and rock your hips up, slow and purposeful. He groans as a small gasp escapes you, feeling the pressure of his cock through his jeans, right where you need it.

He drags his mouth down to your jaw, then lower. His teeth graze your skin, and you tilt your head to give him more access. You slip your fingers beneath his shirt, nails lightly gliding across bare skin. He shivers.

He leans back just enough to look at you, cheeks flushed.

“What about thinking? And not letting the moment get the best of you?”

You never thought you’d curse a man for actually remembering the things you say.

[song: railway]

“This doesn’t feel like just a moment,” you softly admit. “And…I want to.”

You roll your hips again. This time he grabs them tight, grinding down into you with a low groan.

“Are you sure?” he asks.

“Maybe just this once?” you try to roll your hips again but his grip on you is too tight.

“To get it out of our system?”

“And then back to professional?”

Neither of you answer a single question asked.

Then, his hands leave your hips and in seconds, his shirt is gone.

You stare. His torso is lean and defined—not gym obsessed perfection, but real. Beautiful. His eyes scan your face as he reaches for your shirt. You sit up a little and raise your arms.

Your bra comes off next. You unhook it yourself, letting the straps fall, feeling shy as his gaze roves over you like he’s never seen tits before. He covers you, bodies flush now, every inch of you ignited. His mouth crashes against yours, hungrier, rougher.

Your heart is fluttering and racing all at once. It’s overwhelming, how much you want him—how long you’ve been trying not to. And he’s kissing you like he needs this just as badly as you do.

You’re both too far gone now.

He groans when your hand slips beneath the waistband of his jeans. You cup his cock over his briefs and squeeze gently.

“Take your pants off,” you whisper.

He lets out a sharp breath and sits up, shoving his jeans down, boxers still on but strained against his cock. You push your jeans down, too, kicking them out of the way.

He stays upright on the couch, pulling you into his lap this time, your thighs straddling his. His fingers skim your waist, dragging fire along your skin. His gaze drops between your legs.

“Red tonight, huh?” he comments, to which you chuckle.

He kisses your breasts, alternating between taking one in his mouth and circling his thumb around the other, gentle at first, then firmer when your hips grind against him. The little fabric still separating you is such a fucking tease, but the added friction feels good.

“Fuck, y/n,” he groans.

You grind your hips again.

“It shouldn’t feel this good, right?”

“It really fucking shouldn’t.” He agrees, leaning back on the couch to just watch you please yourself.

All you can focus on is the way rubbing your pussy on his cock feels and the way he’s looking at you like you’re something sacred and sinful all at once.

He reaches down, his finger slipping between the thin material of your underwear to pull them to the side, leaving nothing between your clit and his boxers.

“Look how fucking wet you are already,” he says, as you start moaning.

But you don’t need to look. You can feel it. You can hear it.

And you want his boxers out of the way too, now. You still need more. You grind harder, locking your fingers behind his neck.

He pulls you to him, kissing a path up your chest, then your throat, nipping lightly beneath your jaw.

“Hold on to me.”

He grabs your hips suddenly and lifts you. You lock your legs around his waist, lacing his neck and shoulders with kisses as he walks down the hall to the bedroom.

This. This is what you envisioned when rehearsing.

It felt wrong to imagine it then.

But it doesn’t feel wrong right now.

The only light entering the bedroom is what drifts in from the window.

He lightly tosses you onto the bed and you move back to make room for him. You expect him to lie on top of you again, but he has other plans. He lays down flat on the bed, one hand slips up and over your thigh to grip it. With the other, he strokes a finger up and down your pussy, over your underwear, teasing you.

“Hyunjin—just take them off.”

“You want to feel my fingers on your pussy, jagiya?”

Fuck. Double fuck. Those words.

You nod, your hips circling against his finger. Your clit is pounding—begging for more.

“So fucking wet,” he murmurs.

“Hyunjin,” you plead. “Please.”

He smirks up at you before pulling your underwear to the side, planting his mouth right where you want it.

You moan, your head falls to the side, eyes shut. You were half-expecting delicate, teasing licks but his tongue is relentless, sliding up and down, lapping you up. He draws out every sound, every buck of your hips.

When the pleasure threatens to unravel you, your fingers clutch at his shoulders, desperate to bring him back to you. He finally relents, rising to his knees with a heated look in his eyes. With one hand, he slides your underwear down your legs, tossing them aside, then pushes his boxers down to free his cock.

You let out a low exhale, licking your lips at the sight. He’s thicker than you imagined—not too girthy—and already glistening at the tip, making your thighs instinctively part wider.

He shifts closer, settling between your thighs, his cock hovering just above your dripping pussy. His fingers wrap around the base, and he drags the tip slowly up and down your slit, teasing you again with every pass until he pauses at your entrance, his gaze flicking up to meet yours—like he’s asking one last time if you’re sure.

You give a subtle nod. “Come here,” you whisper, hands reaching for him.

But he just smirks, shaking his head. “I have to see your face.”

You’re spread open beneath him, vulnerable and aching.

“Tell me if it’s too much,” he murmurs, and you feel the shift as his hips begin to slowly press forward.

He sinks deeper, inch by inch, and your mind begins to blur.

Finally.

“It’s perfect,” you breathe.

“Like a glove?” his grin is wicked.

You swat his chest. “I can’t stand you.”

Your laugh is cut short by a sharp gasp as he sinks into you fully.  

This is what your body’s been screaming for in every moment you spent pretending you didn’t want him. You feel stretched, filled, split open in the best way.

You both groan.

He moves slowly at first, unhurried. You match his rhythm, legs locked around his waist, hips tilting upward, fingers roaming his chest—memorizing the way he feels above you, inside you.

He lowers his forehead to yours, your breaths mingling.

And really does feel perfect.

He presses a kiss to your lips before pulling back, hands gripping your thighs as he starts to thrust deeper, harder. Each stroke feels like he’s letting go of something he’s been holding on to for far too long. And maybe you are too.

“You feel so fucking good, y/n,” he declares, slowing his pace just enough to make you whine. Every slow push deeper knocks the air from your lungs; every draw back has you chasing for more. “So. Fucking. Good.”

He emphasizes each word with a thrust of his hips.

“Hyunnie,” you moan.

He chuckles softly at that, his hands sliding back to your legs to unhook them from his waist. He pulls out just enough to flip you onto your side, curling himself behind you. His arm slips beneath your head, cradling you close as he pushes back inside. You gasp at the new angle—the way it lets him reach deeper, the way his chest is pressed to your back, lips brushing against your ear.

“You like when I fuck you?” he whispers.

You nod, unable to form words.

“You thought about this when we were rehearsing too, didn’t you?”

You arch into him, threading your fingers through his on the mattress as he fucks you, unrelenting now.

“My cock in your pussy—tell me how much you wanted it.” His other hand slides to your breast, gripping, kneading the soft flesh.

“So fucking bad,” you admit, breath hitching.

“Me too. I wanted to know how tight you’d feel around my cock. How wet you’d be for me.”

His voice is far too close. Saying far too many filthy things. The sound of skin slapping skin is joined by his ragged exhales and your whispered pleas—to fuck you harder, to make you come.

“You going to come for me?”

“Yes,” you whimper, thrusting back against him.

His hand leaves your breast to curl tightly around your waist, holding you right where he wants you.

“You’re mine now, jagi,” he says, voice low.

You cry out at the possessive growl in his tone.

“Hyunjin—I—I’m—”

“Let go,” he breathes. “With me. I got you.”

And you do—tumbling right over the edge, turning your face into the mattress to hide your cry. He follows soon after, groaning against your shoulder as he fills you.

And then…silence.

Except for your breaths. His chest still pressed to your back. His hand still tangled with yours.

It doesn’t feel real.

Not just the way he fucked you—like he couldn’t help himself, like he needed it—but the way he’s still holding you now.

Your heart pounds in your chest, and not just from the high you’re still coming down from. But because this wasn’t supposed to happen. Not with him. Not like this.

But now that it has, you can’t bring yourself to regret it.

“Fuck, I should have grabbed a towel,” you say, breaking the silence.

You feel the moment he starts to stir, pressing a soft kiss to your shoulder, and you hear the smile in his voice when he speaks. “We could shower.”

“We’ll mess up the sheets. I don’t want to explain that to the maid.”

“It’s fine.” He shifts slightly behind you. “We can make it to the bathroom like this.”

You snort, turning your head. “You’re not seriously trying to walk like this.”

“Why not?” He grins, wrapping his arm tighter around your waist. “Teamwork.”

It’s ridiculous. And yet, you let him guide you to the edge of the bed, both of you moving in clumsy tandem, still connected, stifling giggles like teenagers.

You’re bent forward, hands braced against the wall as you inch your way toward the bathroom and he’s behind you, smug and unbothered.

By the time you reach the bathroom, you’re both breathless from laughing, from the afterglow, from everything.

Somehow, it really is perfect. And so much more than a moment that got the best of you.

a/n: FUCKING FINALLY. i hope it was worth the wait 😊 i swear the scenes where i was listening to love untold would play out as the cutest music video ever. a fun date at a museum? convenience store run? ending with them taking the elevator up, and fading to black when they enter the hotel room. do you see the vision?? and if you hit play when railway is mentioned, the beat drops in right around when he's taking his shirt off, depending on reading speed of course. its *chefs kiss* and then the undressing bits would play out kinda slowed down ahhhhh! sorry that's the filmmaker in me blabbering, i love picturing how scenes would play out as a movie/show/video etc. anyways lol, i'm going to try doing a tagging list again. please comment here or on the master list for this fic if you'd like to be added. i tweaked some settings, so hoping tumblr stops maxing me out at five people??? ready to kms over ts (jk, im just dramatic, pls) tagging those that have been commenting faithfully, so don't even ask, you're already on it my loves.

@hwangjoanna / @hanniesbubuwife / @straycat420 / @tsunderelino / @dessianna1 / @akindaflora / @tirena1 / @krayzieestay / @ehstay

[adelheidvonschicksal]

ᴄʜᴇʀʀʏ

Summary: You make for a good distraction when things get tough. Sukuna's fingers may be bitter, but your kisses are sweet.

Pairing: Itadori x GN!Reader

Tags: fluff, light angst, hurt and comfort, developing relationships, sfw

-----

The fingers of Sukuna are an ugly sight; burnt burgundy and twistedly decrepit, crowned with a pointed black nail that scratches at Itadori’s throat whenever he swallows one. The taste is even worse, akin to someone soaking an old cigar in cloudy mop water before clumsily preserving it in candle wax.

It takes all his strength to not pucker his face and dig his nails into the column of his neck whenever the soapy wax flavor hits his tongue. Every fiber of his body would react to reject the intrusion. The lingering aftertaste was another issue. He couldn’t erase it by scraping his tongue against his teeth; burying it with sweet or spicy foods after a mission only helped so much, leaving him to wait until it disappeared on its own as the hours past. He thought it would get easier every time; and for a while, it did.

Until it didn't.

He wanted to stop. But he couldn't stop, not after all this, not until he eats them all, not until he makes everyone's suffering mean something.

So, when he’s about to eat another finger after a grueling, emotionally draining late-evening mission, he braces himself.

As always, the flavor is waxxy, almost non-existent, then putrid when he accidentally bites down. His body knee jerks to react, gag reflex hiccuping and stomach bile rising to reject it, to tell him to spit it out. He closes his eyes tight and squeezes at his throat to loosen the straining muscles, begging his body to hurry up and accept it so it would end faster. Sukuna and everything that comes with eating these cursed objects. It doesn’t want to give in this time, and he squats as if it could help and also because he's so tired of this.

Suddenly, there’s a subtle sweetness, like fruit on the tongue, cutting through the taint. It’s an easy succor to chase and mold to while a comforting force travels up his neck and over his hands, gently forcing them to drop so it can replace them. This touch eventually settles under his bottom eyelids, smooth crescents drawing right along his cheekbones.

This taste is not exactly as strong as the sugar and spice that he normally uses to cover up the filthy flavor in his mouth but there’s something relaxing about the warmth that accompanies it and settles against his lips. Prayers answered, his clenching throat relaxes, allowing him to swallow, and his body quickly adapts to the new addition. 

When the sensation stops, Itadori can finally open his eyes.

It’s you.

You’re here, kneeling in front of him and glowing against the dark backdrop of the night that you’re a little blinding to his lagging mind. 

How could he forget that you came here with him?

There’s a soft silence flowing between you, and he only now notices that you’re holding his face. However, he doesn’t feel the need to make you let go as heat creeps up his skin and his heart begins to echo in his chest, temporarily numbing his mind from the sour aftereffects of eating Sukuna’s fingers.

“Better?” you ask with a small tilt of your head.

Itadori is caught off-guard by the question, feeling a bit dazed and more than a little confused.

“It’s…better,” he eventually mumbles so quietly that his voice gets buried under the breeze. “Thanks.”

His eyes drift lower on your face, finding your lips. He fights the blush threatening to overtake him as he takes in the reddish shine on your lips and pieces together what happened.

“Strawberry?” he hoarsely asks, half-jokingly and half because he feels as if he needs to say something, or else it would be awkward, wouldn’t it?

“Cherry, actually,” you correct with a tiny smile.

“Oh,” he exclaims, his cheeks still a pretty pink as he wonders if the kiss was something you wanted to do. He wonders why it made him feel so much better. He wonders if that would be something you do next time or if this was simply a one-off action thought of in the heat of the moment. He also wonders, for a moment, if he deserved it.

“Could you…” he begins then hesitates.

Is he even allowed to ask such a thing?

“Do that again?” He requests and shamefully palms at his chest for daring to ask for something so personal. “It’s uhm, the aftertaste.”

It’s partially the truth and partially because he wants to figure out why.

Nodding, you give in more readily than he expects and lean in to kiss him again. This time he dares to press the tip of his tongue against your lips, too nervous and confused to breach between them.

You’re right. It’s sweet, slightly tart, blatantly artificial, but so much better than anything else he can imagine right now. Yet he doesn't think it's the gloss causing his body to ease, if only a little.

When you pull away, he finds his mind finally catching up and blushes at the fact your lips are still so close to his. Exhaling slowly, he tries to ignore the dull ache still bubbling in his chest in exchange for thinking about the taste you left behind, the one that makes soft emotions emerge from his heart like a butterfly from its cocoon when he looks at you.

“Yeah…" he reinforces dreamily, letting the wind once again carry away his words, "It’s cherry.”

[whereserpentswalk]

Choose a slightly diffrent version of our world to escape to

Weather you're transferring yourself to another dimension or you’re retroactively changing our world is a matter of perspective. Either way, only you will remember the change, and all your loved ones will still exist with as minimal a change to everyone's lives as possible. Transplaner security does not allow the finer details of this process to be understood by mortals.

1- ritual magic and deities are scientifically proven to exist. The exact details on it all are still ambiguous but people know for a fact that these things work and are true. Religious conflict is down, and it's a fact that there's something out there to answer your prayers.

2- the earth is flat and infinite. The seven continents we know are lit by the sun (which is small and goes out at night) which rotates over the equator (the north pole is the center of this map projection). But there are other suns beyond Antarctica, and 21st century civilization is working to contact these other continents. We will never be done expanding our trades routes and exploring for better or for worse.

3- dragons exist. They split off from a difftent fish than other land vertebrates hence the six limbs. There are all different kinds of dragons, living throughout the world. There's nothing magical about them, they just exist.

4- the six continents we know of with humans are just six islands in a vast ocean. Most of human history is the same or similar, just much higher density, thought the same cultures and civilizations developed. Because the population is the same human territory is a single massive city, using unquine technology to harvest food. What exists on the rest of the earth is just starting to be known.

5- necromancers exist as a valid field of art and science. Zombies, ghosts, vampires, liches, shades and other such creatures all exist as functioning members of society. Everyone accepts this as good and normal.

6- humans are capable of using willpower to change their physical sex after completing puberty. The process takes about six months to complete, and is mostly painless. Alongside swapping your sex it's also possible to mix and match traits or completely get rid of the traits of either sex. There is stigma around this, but it's slowly gaining more acceptance as time goes on. Body type and eye color can also be changed similarly, and how old you look is somewhat fluid based on your desires.

7- every rocky planet in our solar system and most large moons have sentient life. We are slowly making further and further contact with those civilizations.

8- the world is slightly more progressive on basically every issue. It's far from perfect but our world looks like an exacerbated parody of their world's political and social problems.

9- humans don't make contact when they mate, like fish or scorpians. Nobody has sex or desires sex in any way, and human bodies have a lot less sexual dimorphism. Gender is more fluid, sexual assault and harassment can't happen, and physical affection is way more common.

10- humans live longer (the oldest people are in their 900s) and resist illness much better. They have stronger mote athletic bodies, and have appearances that resemble closer what they individually think is pretty. They also need to sleep a lot less and have higher pain tolerance.

11- gender as a concept doesn't exist. People are biologically the same, they just don't have any social construct of male and female. People generally dress similarly to what we'd consider masculine, and he is the default pronoun, but feminine things aren't rejected, or even categorized as feminine. Relationships also aren't considered platonic romantic or family, people are just close to eachother and there's no special word for certain kind of close relationship that's different from others in a socially enforced way.

12- there's a whole new complex set of social constructs that didn't exist in the world you know. This is bad mabye.

Reblog to begin the transportation. Like to awake one of your freinds to the reality of the changes.

[ivesambrose]

𝓦𝓱𝓪𝓽 𝓴𝓲𝓷𝓭 𝓸𝓯 𝓛𝓸𝓿𝓮 𝓭𝓸𝓮𝓼 𝔂𝓸𝓾𝓻 𝓱𝓮𝓪𝓻𝓽 𝓼𝓮𝓮𝓴

1. 2. 3.

Here's to reminding all of you what your heart truly desires so you don't settle for less ❤️

To Book a personal reading with me DM or email me at Ivesambrose@gmail.com

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Picture 1

A love that feels like a gift and an answered prayer.

A love that happens in the right place at the right time.

A love built on understanding rather than endless compromises that make you lesser of the person you truly are.

You likely seek someone who is just as much of a giver as you are. You want a traveller, a merchant almost, a story teller, someone good with children or simply someone who brings out your inner child and soothes it. Someone who makes you feel secure and safe overtime. Someone who can guide you and that you can learn from. Someone who makes you feel beautiful.

You seek a type of love thar grows overtime, especially as friends, a reliable type of love, you also want to help others in need together, give back to the community, simply have more than enough. Love is supposed to be your safe space.

Avoid relationships or romantic partners who rush you or make you feel on the edge or aren't generous with their time, affection and resources.

Picture 2

A love that's crossed the oceans of time and burnt bridges and crawled out of the woods just to find you.

A passionate love.

A love built on something transcendal.

You seek someone uncommon but good with words and expression. You want someone expressive, determined and strong both internally and externally. Someone who does not required validation and can stay private but at the same time will express their love to you deeply.

You seek a type of love that is built on devotion. Your walls are titanium strong so to break that down and reach for the softness in your heart is not for the weak. You seek solid foundations and someone to build your own legacy with. Someone who mirrors you, you have a telepathy with and who will give you their world. You seek someone you can continue learning and growing fond of no matter how long time passes. You seek intensity as well as adventure.

Avoid relationships and partners you have no mental, emotional and physical stimulation with. With bare minimum efforts or if you feel you'll have to mask yourself constantly or settle just because they're 'nice'.

Picture 3

A love that quiets your anxious mind.

An honest love that doesn't make you question it's Integrity or make you watch your back with every step.

A love that will catch you if you fall. A love that won't judge you if you slip. A love built on thoughts, memories, words, secrets, poems, understanding and acceptance.

You seek someone emotionally present and mature. Someone calm and collected and soft spoken. Loudness and rashness really bothers you. You seek someone a little old school perhaps in aesthetics and approach yet open minded. Someone you can bare your soul to, tell everything to, know everything about and still feel secure. Someone to share your world with and travel the world with and maybe even create a one of your own together. Away from the norm. A love that feels like a warm hug on a winter's night. A love that writers about.

Avoid relationships and partners who can't understand your need to be silent and aloof sometimes. Avoid anyone and anything that makes you feel uncomfortable but insists that you're not supposed to feel that way.

[dayluxe]

In the mountains - Lamine Yamal

¡ request are open !

pairing: Lamine Yamal x fem!reader

summary: your boyfriend invites you to spend Christmas in a magical town.

warnings: use of the translator, kisses, a small suggestive scene (?) at the end.

w/c: 3.319

request here @ripmyselfxd

When Lamine told you about wanting to spend Christmas away from home, you thought it was crazy.

You've never done that before, not even with your family. Your tradition was the same, to spend time with family and friends, who also lived relatively close to you. So when that idea crossed his mind, you don't like it so much. Just thinking about leaving your home, your family and friends on a day as special as that terrified you, so you told him that you would think about it.

The days went by, and every day Lamine would say the same thing to you "Have you thought about it, love?" and when you told him no he would say all the sweetest comments you could hear "please, my love, do it for me" or "you will let me go alone to a cabin, with no one to share my love with?". he also tried to convince you with multiple kisses, which didn't work.

His prayers for you to say that they were soon over, and as soon as you said yes, he was the happiest man in the world "Thank you, darling, I promise you that they will be the best days of your life, we will have an incredible time" he told you while leaving kisses all over your face. You laughed, and you stopped him for a moment "Not so fast, I agree to go on one condition, you will ask my parents for permission for the trip, do you think?" and as soon as you said that his smile faded "what?" said Lamine confused.

One of the things I feared most in the world was talking to your parents, especially your dad. In his head the different ways in which your dad would tear him to pieces as soon as he asked that were already replaying, but the desire to go with you on that trip was more, so he accepted.

"You know that your dad scares me a lot, but it's all for you, my girl," he told you, and then gave you a kiss.

for the next few days Lamine 'mentally prepared' herself to be able to talk to your parents that day. For you it was a very fun scenario to watch, since it seemed a bit dramatic that you prepare so much just for a talk to which your answer was probably going to be yes.

The long-awaited day for your boyfriend had arrived. The talk consisted only of a dinner, nothing elaborate. you had told your parents that Lamine wanted to ask them something and they told you to invite him to dinner for that. although he seemed to ask permission from the kings of Spain instead of your parents. Excitement and nerves mixed, and the smile on her face could not be erased. For him this was important, it would be like a before and after in their relationship. You would spend a Christmas alone, as a couple. He knew how attached you were to your family, and on dates like this, that you agree to spend it with him, felt like a more serious step in the relationship.

By the time the time came, everything went excellently well. Your parents said yes, with many conditions, yes.

They said you had to call or text them when you arrived, or went out somewhere. that you send them lots of pictures of the places, and that at Christmas you made a video call to them. Lamine told (and promised) your parents that she would remind you to do all those things always and at all times.

the cabin in which they were going to stay was in Finland. You'd never been to that place before, and Lamine hadn't either, but he knew you'd love the place.

When the day of the flight arrived, you already had everything ready. You were very afraid to leave something important, since (as your boyfriend said) you were very dramatic. your headphones could stay and for you the world was going to end, for you it made sense. Your hearing aids were your life.

"Are you sure you don't have anything left, Lamine?" you said over the call. "I'm sure, love. Nothing remains." he said with a sigh. "Do you have your cell phone charger?" "yes" "are you wearing the gloves?" "Yes, I even have the stuffed animal that you like so much, and your camera, and the sweatshirt that you always want to steal from me. everything is there, my love, already calm"

Their parents were ready to drop them off at the airport. her farewell was very emotional, since you had never gone to a place so far without your parents "promise us what you will call us when they arrive at the airport in Finland, and then when they arrive at the cabin" your mom told you while kissing you on the forehead "we will do it mom, don't worry, we have to go to the waiting room now" you told her as you gave her the last hug before leaving.

You and Lamine stopped by to stand in line. They went through their things and then went to the lounge to wait for their flight. It was only 8:15 in the morning, and if the flight left at 9:00, they still had time to talk and spend some time seeing the airport.

"What do you think the town will be like, love?" You told him while you were buying some things to eat "very full of snow. I have seen that they say that it is one of the places that snows the most" he told you "I have seen that they say that you can see very beautiful northern lights" you said with a smile. Your dream had always been to see a northern lights in real life. It seemed to you such a surprising and perfect thing "we could go out one day to see one, if you want obviously" Lamine said, as he grabbed you by the waist and gave you a kiss "it would be beautiful to be able to see one, honey" you said to him while you gave him a smile.

While they were waiting for his flight, several fans of your boyfriend approached him to ask for some photos or autographs. You also took the opportunity to fill the Lamine gallery with thousands of photos together. You felt nervous. Sure you'd taken a flight before, but this flight was different. Their destination was totally unknown to both of them, and taking into account the amount of snow and cold that the place had, it gave you a mixture of excitement and nervousness.

his flight was announced, and while you and Lamine waited for directions to enter, he tried to calm you down and understand the verbal vomit you were having "and what if it's too cold?" "Or if our English isn't too good?" "What if we forgot something at home?" Those were some of the things you said over and over again.

"Honey, you know none of that is true. We were on call while we checked our luggage, we both know how to speak english perfectly, and even if you are not used to the cold it is obvious that in the cabin there will be heating, and if the problem is when we are outside, well we bought more clothes for the cold and that's it. quiet, yeah? you will see that you will enjoy it" he told you, then gave you a hug and rubbed your sides.

The flight was not long. You couldn't sleep the entire way, but that gave you a chance to see all the snow and lights that could be seen from above. The town looked like it had come out of a Christmas movie. full of snow and lights everywhere, houses and giant trees covered in snow. If that was how it looked from the plane, once on the ground it would seem like a dream. You took the opportunity to take some photos from the window, and of your sleeping boyfriend too.

"Honey, wake up. We're going to land." you said to the boy next to you. He opened his eyes, and the first thing he saw was your excited smile. It seemed that sparks were going to come out of your eyes because of how you saw everything. "It looks very nice, don't you think?" Lamine told you, while looking out the window with you "imagine what it will look like when the plane lands" you told him.

When they got off the plane and did all the checks, they saw how everything looked from the windows of the airport. A car was already waiting for them outside the airport, which would take them to the cabin where they were staying.

The journey to the place was magical for you. You felt like you were inside a movie. The snowflakes fell in abundance on everything, the Christmas lights and decorations looked wonderful, and the contrast between the white of the snow, and the bright colors of the lights, made the town seem like something magical.

"Look at the lights, my love, it looks like we were in Whoville" you said with a laugh, "Don't say that, it would be horrible to live in a snowflake, it's not a very convenient location," he told you, while giving you a smile. You continued to argue about the film, until you reached the cabin where you would stay.

You saw the town so enchanted that you didn't even notice when they reached their destination. The cabin was better than you had imagined, full of lights and snow outside. you could feel its warmth from the outside. It had a small balcony with its stairs full of snow.

When they enter the house, their warmth automatically embraces them. it was welcoming; It had a large room with a window overlooking the town, It had a faint smell of pine mixed with vanilla. Everything about it was cozy, from the lights to the views.

Lamine hugged you from behind, and placed her head on your shoulder "and how is it? Do you like it?" he said, "It's better than I expected. We could go buy some trees, decorate it with whatever we want, or make some cookies, it looks so good seriously. I love it, darling," you said, then turned around and kissed him. He placed his hands on your waist "well, I'm glad you like it. I promise we'll have a great time, because we're I promise we'll have a great time, 'cause we're here, Together, you and me, and that makes it more special," he said with a smile "ohh, don't get romantic now, you'll make him cry," you said with a shy smile, as you gave him a playful slap on his chest. You felt your cheeks warm up a little "now I can't say nice words to my girl? Is that a crime?, I don't think so" his smile became playful, and he gave you a few kisses on the neck.

"stop it, we have a lot of things to do here, we can't waste time" you told him, and then grabbed your suitcase and went in search of the room. You already had some plans done in your head, buy a tree, buy lights, decorate the house, go out and play with the snow. you recapitulated in your mind. The first three things took her at least 5 or 8 hours, that if they had a lot of organization, which you knew your boyfriend didn't enable when he was with you.

The day passed quickly and lightly. The days in that cabin were like there were only the two of you. The atmosphere was totally intimate, in a very romantic and quiet way. By Christmas Eve, all the things you wanted to do were crossed off your mental list, except for a few things, playing with the snow.

Lamine said that before that they had to go buy warmer things for you, since he checked your suitcase and you didn't have anything as warm as for these temperatures. When they left the cabin you had to wear his clothes so that you could feel warmer than normal. Your boyfriend made sure you had several sweaters underneath, and when you looked in the mirror you looked like a meatball.

his purchases were based on some many brightly colored coats and jackets, as Lamine had seen in some video that it's for prevention or something. You only wanted some, but he said 'it's better to be safe than sorry', so you decided to accept. You find it funny when she takes care of you as if you were a 5-year-old girl.

They spent a good time seeing a little of the town, they had not had time to do this because of the whole issue of decorations and so on. But now they had nothing to do, so they decided to see the different shops that were there, most of them were full of Christmas things. There was a large dessert and candy store, it looked like paradise. Their treats came in all kinds of colors and shapes, and you were curious just to see them on the shelves.

Both chose a wide variety of desserts and treats. Most of them would take them back, but for you it was very satisfying to choose among all of them what caught your attention the most, and let's just say that you both went a little too far.

Their purchases were very successful, and they soon found themselves in a great snowball battle.

Playing with the snow was harder than you expected, and if it wasn't for the gloves, your hands would be frozen right now "Lamine, enough, this snow is very hard. I'm sorry like you're throwing huge ice cubes at me." You said breathlessly. They had been like this for about 5 minutes, which for you had been hours. "You were the one who started, love. Now you can't stand it, besides, I remember that I had you were begging to play with this snow. You said it looked magical," he told you, while giving you a playful smile. "Well, it doesn't look so magical for this anymore. Let's make snow angels, that looks more fun now," you told him, as you walked in search of a pretty big place for both of you.

Your emotion amused Lamine. I looked at you with heart eyes, as you made your snow angel on the floor. you gave off a childlike happiness, which he thought was beautiful. that you were so happy for such a simple and straightforward action as playing with the snow. In his mind these moments were the best, you being you, so happy and innocent, rejoicing over things as small as snowflakes falling from the sky, or trees being covered with the white of snow.

Your boyfriend's smile and look made you nervous, and you liked me why he was looking at you like that, to which he replied with a "nothing, you just look so magical" making you blush. His smile grew bigger, watching you look away from him and bow your head. He came up to you and wrapped his arms around your waist, and kissed you on the neck. "don't be shy now, my love. you look so beautiful like that," she told you. You turned around to connect their gazes. He brought his face close to yours, and you felt his lips rub and then put his lips together. A kiss full of love and sincerity, the snow accompanied you, falling on you and covering your heads with thousands of snowflakes. you break the kiss and Lamine looks at your lips wanting to continue feeling them on hers "you know what?" you said "no, tell me love" he replied "this moment feels-" "magical. now shut up and kiss me, please," he interrupted you. and then put their lips together again.

Christmas had arrived, and his day had been very busy.

Lamine had to follow your orders all day, which doesn't bother her at Lamine had to follow your orders all day. This doesn't bother her, but today you were more disciplined than ever.

They took care of everything, the food, the desserts and the atmosphere of the whole house.

This made you feel like you were in a familiar environment. The smell of pine, cinnamon, and chocolate was always in the house, and you made an effort to keep these smells in your cabin.

you were getting ready for dinner with Lamine. You agreed that even though it was just the two of you, you wanted to be presentable to the people you were going to call.

He was setting the table when you walked into the dining room. Everything looked so beautiful, and just thinking that you did that, gave you a very beautiful warmth in your heart. "I think everything is as you asked me to. Please tell me if so, because I spent about 8 minutes trying to choose the dishes" he told you as he walked towards you "everything looks splendid, my love. you should change your career and dedicate yourself to working in a restaurant, you would be the best at it," you replied. while you slapped him on the chest.

Their dinner was wonderful. they shared laughter and anecdotes about everything, family, teammates or school, weird videos they watched. The hours passed quickly, and when they least expected it they were only a few minutes away from Christmas.

You exchanged words and congratulations. trying to express all the affection they felt for each other, how lucky they felt to have each other by their side. A very special and romantic moment, which was interrupted by the call of their cell phones.

The calls with his parents and close friends were long. Lamine had endless notifications that came to him every minute, some from his teammates or family, and others from fans. He took his time to congratulate everyone, some shared very funny photos like Gavi. while others called them and said the most encouraging words in the world.

When it was all over, Lamine and you decided to go to his room to watch a couple of Christmas movies. You had insisted on seeing them every day, and today he was the one.

You were in his room when he entered. You were with the door open, so you didn't notice His presence behind you. Lamine walked with slow steps, and when he was close to you he put his arms around you and murmured a "boo!" in your ear "you didn't scare me darling, better luck next time" you told him. You turned around and looked him in the eye, he was looking at you with a silly smile. "I didn't want to scare you, my love," he said while brushing his nose. "hmm, no? and what did you want to do?" you said with a smile.

their gazes were interspersed between his lips and his eyes. their distance was minimal and they could feel their breaths. Lamine didn't know what to answer, he felt hypnotized by your face. Your soft pink lips invited him to kiss you. and your penetrating gaze made him shy. He wanted to kiss you, to show you all his love. But right now he didn't even remember his name.

Your hands went up to his neck, and his hands clenched at your waist. Their kisses were directed towards your neck, you gave out little giggles. You could feel how he was leading them to bed. You fell on the soft sheets and he positioned himself on your body. "well, show me your love, darling," you said.

They just based those words on Lamine attacking your lips again.

just me uploading a christmas request in january. I hope you like it, sorry for the delay. I'm trying to get inspiration for this 😭😭

[nerdygaymormon]

Certainty vs Uncertainty

I spoke to the Gatherings group which meets in Deltona, FL. I shared these thoughts with them, and want to also share them on my blog.

————————————————————

When I was growing up, I didn’t see LGBTQ people. I didn’t know any. I didn’t consume any media which portrayed them, at least not until I was a teenager in the 1980’s when the news would have stories about gay people protesting for recognition of the pandemic wiping them out and demanding more research and attention to HIV/AIDS.

As a teenager I began understanding that I might be one of “them,” and that scared me. I denied the possibility and doubled down on being the best Mormon that I could be. But there were moments where my thoughts would go to “what if?”

At the time, the LDS Church had very strong teachings against gay people. Here I was with my identity fully invested in the church, and so was my family's. To explore the idea that I might be gay meant to shake the foundations that provided stability and meaning in my life. Every indication I had is that if I were gay I would be kicked out of church and probably out of my family. That made it critical for me to press down the queer part of me.

Even though I was in denial, I still heard those negative messages and thought what if that’s me? What if I’m an abomination? What if I’m a threat to the family? What if I’m an enemy to God? I certainly didn’t want to be those things.

As my teenage years progressed and it became more and more clear that I feel things for guys that I never do for girls, I accepted the idea that I’m defective. God would never want someone to feel these things therefore something is wrong with me.

When I was 19 years old, my bishop called me into his office to talk about serving a full-time mission. Even though I didn’t share why, he could tell I wasn’t excited about this idea. He told me to go home and pray to ask God if the church is true, if the Book of Mormon is true, if Joseph Smith was a true prophet. I went home and prayed, but not about those things. I asked, “God, do you love me? All of me? Can you love who I am and what I am?”

That was the first time I was honest with God about what I was experiencing, and this prayer was answered with an overwhelming feeling of love and warmth, and I heard the answer, “You are not broken.”

First, how sad that someone who grew up in this church, all those years of Primary, Sunday School, and youth programming, would wonder if God could love me.

Second, this answer contradicted what the presidents of the church taught. God shot an arrow through the idea that everything I had been taught and believed was true, certain, and unwavering.

This is a church of certainty. “I know this church is true.” “I know the Book of Mormon is true.” “I know the president of the church is a prophet of God.” Being an LGBTQ member is an experience that pushes against that certainty. I think many, probably most people will question some of what they’re taught, but generally queer people enter faith transitions earlier than their non-queer peers.

Over the years, I have received answers that are out of alignment with the church. It caused dissonance for me. But that’s also what allowed me to find a way to stay. I didn’t have to believe the things this church taught about LGBTQ people because I had very clear answers to the contrary. Nevertheless, being a queer Latter-day Saint was, and is, a difficult space to exist in. Over the years, I’ve seen the church change how it talks about gay people and in the policies. Things weren’t as fixed and certain as I’d been taught.

For 9 years now, I’ve been serving as a stake executive secretary. I make appointments for the stake presidency, I create & maintain the stake calendar, I create agendas for meetings, and I attend lots of meetings. It’s just as exciting as it sounds. It also means that when a general authority comes to my stake and meets with the stake presidency, they also bump into this gay man.

I have a small blog where I write about being a queer Latter-day Saint. I wrote about the first general authority I met and I told him I’m gay and that he reacted with love and kindness. This post went viral, over 500,000 hits. Even though at the time I was anonymous on my blog, suddenly I was out to everyone. As my sister’s friend asked, "How many single, stake executive secretaries who live in Florida and work at a university can there possibly be?"

Several of these general authorities have invited me to meet with them when I travel to Salt Lake City, and I’ve had some interesting conversations with them, including with Elder & Sister Renlund. It's been insightful to hear members of the Seventy and an apostle speak without certainty.

Sister Renlund’s father had a brother who was married to my grandma, he died in World War II. My grandma remarried and my mom is from the second marriage. My grandma was sealed to her first husband, and that was fine for my granddad until his wife died. That’s when certain questions became a big concern for him. Is he going to have no one in heaven? Does this mean he won’t be exalted? Are his children sealed to the other husband and he'll be their dad in heaven? While alive, a woman can only be sealed to one husband, but when she passes away she can be sealed to all the husbands she was legally married to during her life, and it will all get sorted out in heaven. If she chooses to be sealed to my granddad, the person she spent 70 years with, where does that leave her first husband?

We were talking about that and Elder Renlund said that we don’t know how it works, we don’t really know what heaven is like, but we’ve seen enough glimpses to know that it does work out for everyone and it is wonderful.

He has said something similar to that answer several times when I’ve visited with him. In a church of “I know this,” and “I know that,” this is not how I expected an apostle to answer. I’ve gotten similar responses from the Seventy I’ve met with.

This idea of not being certain, not knowing what the answer will be, not defining what the outcome must be, gives us the capacity to learn and grow, to seek what God wants for us. Until I was willing to be honest with God about how I experience life and ask if God could okay with me, I didn’t get an answer. God never was willing to respond to prayers begging Him to “fix” me, because I came with an answer, an outcome, and it wasn’t what God wanted for me.

The answer that I’m not broken sustained me for a long time. I’ve gotten a few other answers like that, such as it’s okay to date and seek a relationship, and it is fine to leave this church, which these answers clearly go against what our church leaders say. It puts me in a situation similar to the one that Joseph Smith described when local pastors were telling him that he was wrong and is a liar, yet he knew the answers he’d gotten from God. “I had seen a vision. I knew it, and I knew that God knew it, and I could not deny it.”

Many people like that our church culture is one of certainty. It gives them a sense of safety. Here are the answers. They know if they check these boxes then they’ll receive the blessings they desire.

Having a culture of certainty creates a monoculture. People who have different viewpoints are likely going to be shy about sharing their thoughts in a Sunday School class. And it’s easy for others to become defensive and reply that is the incorrect answer, here’s what the acceptable answer is, and help keep everyone in line and the lesson on track. It leaves us blind to lessons we could learn from other perspectives. I don’t think that’s how God wants us to operate.

As I read the scriptures with my queer eyes, I more and more see that the things important to God are that we love each other, that we look for people who are vulnerable and try to make them more secure. We are to be welcoming to the foreigner and open our home to them and we are responsible for their safety because we’re operating from a place of security.

Earlier this year we got new policies about trans people at church. How certain are we that God wants these policies? If these are hurting trans people, what do we do about it? Do these seem like the policies a God of love would approve? Are they consistent with the idea of loving and treating others how I want to be treated?

Having queer people in church is powerful, it shakes up the certainty. I’ve heard parents of queer people say, “I know a loving God won’t separate me in heaven from my child.” “I trust that God will make it all okay.” That’s another way of saying, “Maybe our leaders are wrong, maybe God isn’t beholden to the rules we say He has to follow.” It’s their way of making some space for the dissonance they feel between what is being taught and the reality of their queer family member.

In the Genesis story we read about binaries. God divided darkness from the light. God created the heaven and the earth. God separated the water from the land. God created male and female. And yet, if we look around, none of those are binaries, they are spectrums. There’s sunsets and sunrises and eclipses. There’s swamps and marshes and bogs where the land and water are mixed. The sky has clouds and humidity, that’s water in the air. These spectrums are pleasing to God.

In Romans 1:20, the apostle Paul teaches that we have an invisible God but can know them by the things that God makes. When we want to know about God, we look at God’s creations and these will testify of what God is like. Considering all we can see around us, God loves diversity. God loves exceptions. God loves peculiarities. God doesn’t stick to binaries. God revels in variety. Same-sex behavior (courtship, sex, pair-bonding, and parental activities) have been documented in over 450 species of animals. What does this tell us about God? Having people whose gender is trans, nonbinary, genderfluid, intersex, androgynous, and so on, is more in line with what we observe about God from His creations than the idea that there is strictly one kind of man and one kind of woman and that’s it, no other variety allowed.

I leave these thoughts with you, and hope it helps lead you away from certainty and towards the humility of belief that perhaps we don’t perfectly know God, that our leaders can be wrong about things and as we grow in understanding perhaps it’s time to question if it’s time to change.

We say that people are to endure to the end, and that can sound like hold tight and don't question and suffer to the end. I think a better way is to say it is we should grow to the end. Athletes work to increase their endurance, they grow their ability. How can we as individuals and as a community grow? When we see policies are harming people we can ask what God would have us do? That’s a path to growth and spiritual maturity. Are we more concerned about being certain or about finding truth?

[assortedvillainvault]

hello!! i was wondering if i could request some Kaon x Reader headcanons?? :D

Hello! Oh my god yes of course, esp for my first ever Kaon ask!! I’m going to answer this with the assumption of a decepticon mech!Reader if you don’t mind.

Kaon x Reader Headcannons

Attracting the attention of the DJD incurred nothing short of mortal terror.

Your squad kicked you out, locked the door and huddled in a prayer circle - for all that would help - as the infamous ship roared through the atmosphere to land close by, the radio crackling with your name.

You accepted Kaon’s... interest with the glares of the other DJD burning into the back of your helm and the sense that your spark would sear it’s way out of your throat if you didn’t swallow it back down.

Kaon doesn’t take up nearly as much space as his teammates, but that doesn’t mean his presence doesn’t fill the corridors you tiptoe through. Static crackles over your plating, and the ships cameras all turn to focus on you as you walk by.

You thought he was blind, but it becomes increasingly clear that just because his sockets are empty that doesn’t mean he can’t see.

All cycle he watches you through every camera on the peaceful tyranny. He’s got you in 3 angles at minimum all day, idly trying to decide which looks best on you.

He’s memorised the sound of your footsteps through the ship, and the way sound bounces pleasantly off your clamped plating, his echolocation delightedly accurate enough to see how you flinch.

You had to adapt. And as part of that adaption – you do not. EVER. Think about the pet. Don’t ask about it. Don’t look at it. Grit your teeth and smile when Kaon insists you three go on walkies together and makes you give it organs as treats.

Tarn, ever mindful of his crew, noticed your reciprocation was’t exactly...enthusiastic. And took to humming *almost* at the frequency of your spark to jog things along.

So you panicked and grabbed Kaon’s hand when he absolutely was not expecting you to.

You came online again with half your circuits fried and Kaon himself in an apologetic meltdown over Nickles unimpressed face. Dimly, something in your brain clicked as you watch the eyeless mech hover frantically, his usual collected air discarded.

He blushes with static.

Like you can steel yourself, walk by, smile in his direction and say something sweet and he’s just so loaded with static that the next person to walk by as to flatten themselves against the wall to avoid his coils.

This, uh, also has the side effect of making him Very Touchy.

He can control his voltage if he’s initiating- he’s not a grabber, but is prone to deft little strokes of his fingers as you pass by, a lighthanded squeeze, idly mapping where he knows the circuits and lines are under your plating, and you’re ashamed at how you squeak each time it happens, and at how his lips curve into a self satisfied smile every time.

This should not be attractive. You’ve been here too long.

Congratulations, you’ve adapted.

FYI – Wireplay hits different with someone who channels electricity and has ‘torture’ as a profession. Just saying.

[callmelyrus]

Thank you, @robinyourcreator and @oldlight117, for prompting me to write about a kiss to give up control. This was a fun thing to write!

*****

”I think any attempts at comforting me might be in vain just now.”

Shadowheart meant it. She is inconsolable. What she worked so hard for was thrown into the abyss with the Spear of Night. She is alone, forsaken by the goddess she’d sworn to serve. Reviled by those she used to call brothers and sisters. What is she to do now? What’s left of her life? Kneeling outside of her tent, she offers a prayer to Shar, but there is no answer. Every word rings hollow in the evening air. Filled with desperation, Shadowheart brings her chin down to her chest, trying to feel even the smallest hint of the presence of her Lady that graced her in the Gauntlet of Shar. None can be found. She is, indeed, alone.

Lost. Lost in the dark.

So, no. There is no use to offer words of comfort to Shadowheart right now. What can she do with those, now that her dreams are going up in the smoke emitted by her incense? Futile. That’s what everything feels right now. Prayer, incense, dreams, comfort. All useless.

But Shadowheart also meant what she said after. A small sliver of her wretchedness disappeared somewhere at the thought of Tav. She was so incredibly sweet to keep Shadowheart in her thoughts. The memory of her and Tav’s exchange after the events of the Shadowfell made her heart simultaneously swell up with affection and fall with contrition. She was so afraid of what she did that she blurted everything out at Tav, all at once. To then pull away like this, to retreat back into herself and wallow in the life she lost seems wrong. Almost cowardly.

For her entire existence, as far as she can remember, anyway, Shadowheart has had to keep control. As a Sharran, control is everything. Shadowheart has learned to keep her focus sharp, never faltering during battle. Loss of control in a fight means death. Her Lady’s mission to bring the mysterious artifact to Baldur’s Gate has also demanded her focus. She has kept herself in check, not revealing too much. Also not letting too much in. Existing in the rag-tag group of weirdos she has tried her hardest not to call “friends” has made self-control a necessity. Especially when it comes to Tav.

Tav. She is one thing Shadowheart could never control, try as she might have. Tav was always so kind, so gracious about Shadowheart’s allegiance to Lady Shar. Not always understanding, but never judgemental. And Shadowheart had to keep herself under control, so she wouldn’t break Shar’s iron-clad rules. Not to develop feelings. Not to… Shadowheart can’t think those words. Those words were not allowed for so long it is as if her brain has forgotten how to form them. Saying them out loud would be an impossibility. At the very least, until she’s feeling less lost. So why did she tell Tav she wanted to be with her? When she can’t even tell her how she feels? Shadowheart curses herself for giving Tav such mixed messages. What a start to their relationship this is…

“Hey, soldier!” Karlach’s voice rouses Shadowheart from her reverie. She looks up to see the tall tiefling woman leisurely stroll towards her tent, her orange eyes soft and tentative.

“Hi, Karlach,” Shadowheart replies, not necessarily wanting company, but feeling forlorn enough to accept it.

Karlach sits on the stool next to the door of Shadowheart’s tent. “I haven’t come to tell you how sorry I feel for you, if that’s what you’re worried about,” she announces. This eases Shadowheart’s mind slightly. The last thing she wants right now is someone offering their sympathies, when they have no idea how any of this feels.

“Why are you here then?” Shadowheart asks, trying to keep her voice in check.

Karlach looks at her with kind eyes. “You’ve been given a great gift, Shadowheart,” she says softly. “It may not feel like one yet. In the beginning, it’ll feel like nothing will ever be okay again. But you’ve been given freedom. And, as terrifying as it feels at first, freedom is a good thing.”

Shadowheart raises an eyebrow. “I suppose you know something about this,” she mutters, rubbing her temple with one hand.

Karlach chuckles. “Yup. I’ve been there. And man, does freedom feel great! You’ll see.”

“I can’t explain how I’m feeling right now,” Shadowheart admits, hanging her head. “It’s all too much to wrap my head around. I just hope Tav’s ready to wait for me to figure this out,” she laughs halfheartedly, making light of a real fear in her chest.

“Hey, if I know Tav at all, and I think I do,” Karlach smiles reassuringly. “She’ll wait a hundred years if that’s how long it’ll take.”

Shadowheart feels lighter, hearing this. Karlach is probably right. Tav is the kind of woman who devotes herself to those she cares about. Perhaps Shadowheart’s fear is also futile.

“Although, saying that,” Karlach continues. “Your whole life has been this wild exercise in self-control. Why don’t you give some of that up, just a little?”

Shadowheart tilts her head quizzically. “What do you mean?”

Karlach shrugs exaggeratedly. “I don’t know, soldier. Whatever could I mean?” With these words, she gets up off the stool and saunters away, leaving Shadowheart deep in thought.

Shadowheart thinks about Karlach’s words. She thinks about what Karlach said about letting go of control. There is no need for that anymore. Shar’s rules don’t bind her any longer. So why should she keep wearing these chains voluntarily? Although there are many things she feels she’s not ready for yet, there is one thing she is dying to do. Something she’s only done once before and has craved more ever since.

Shadowheart’s feet move on their own accord, towards the tent pitched near the water’s edge, slightly away from the rest. She’s glad to see the tent flaps ajar, indicating the inhabitant of this tent is still awake. As she approaches, she makes out a figure lying down inside. A twig breaking under her foot makes the figure sit up quickly.

“Oh, it’s you,” a velvety voice, deep and slightly breathless, greets Shadowheart. Tav scrambles onto her feet and ducks her head to meet Shadowheart outside of the tent.

“Yes, it’s me,” Shadowheart smiles, suddenly timid under Tav’s gaze. Her eyes reflect the distant light of the campfire, and Shadowheart is drawn closer by them, her feet taking the last few steps so her chest is only inches away from Tav’s.

“It’s getting late. How come you’re still up?” Tav asks, looking concerned. “You’ve had a big day. You should get some rest,” she says carefully.

Shadowheart takes a deep breath to centre herself. What she is about to do is one of the scariest things she can remember doing, including defying her Lady and throwing her spear away. But Karlach’s encouragement emboldens her to give up some of her self-control. She wants this. She’s allowed to want this.

“You know how you once said if someone wants something, they should just take it?” Shadowheart whispers, her voice wavering.

Something flashes in Tav’s eyes, a recognition of what Shadowheart is referring to, perhaps. “Yes…?” Tav trails off, her expression coloured with confusion.

Feeling bold and determined, Shadowheart presses her lips firmly against Tav’s. Tav squeals in surprise, but instantly wraps her strong, slender arms around Shadowheart’s waist, responding to the kiss by tilting her head slightly. Shadowheart begins to move her lips with Tav’s, her own hands cupping Tav’s face. Slowly, as she kisses the woman with whom she knows she wants to spend her life, she begins to allow herself to lose control. That emotion that’ll remain unnamed for now is let loose.

Shadowheart pours all of that feeling into the kiss. She wants, no, needs Tav to know how tightly she holds Shadowheart’s heart in her hand. Her tongue requests access into Tav’s mouth, and Tav parts her lips with a low moan. Shadowheart smiles against Tav’s mouth as her tongue makes contact with Tav’s. The shackles of control are loosened. Though she can’t feel it quite yet, Shadowheart will be free. Free to… You know.

[skyfallslayer]

Should We Stay or Should We Go? || Chapter Six

-A ST Rewrite Feat. Steve Harrington x Henderson!OFC-

Main Masterlist || Series Masterlist

🎲Summary: A frantic Jonathan, Hopper and Joyce look for Nancy in the darkness before uncovering the truth about the lab’s experiments. Steve starts accepting his babysitting role. Steph and Will are running out of time.

🎲Pairings: Will x Platonic!OFC; Dustin x Sister!OC; Slow burn! Steve x Henderson!OFC (Ex-bestfriends to Lovers); Slow burn! Byler

🎲Rating: Teen-Mature

🎲Word Count: 15,845

🎲Date: 12/13/24

🎲Warnings: Angst; Heavy Language & Dialogue; References To Broken Friendship; Mental Strain/Breaking Down; Talks of Mental Health Issues; Bullying of All Kinds; Physical Fighting; Lying; "Death" and Talks of Death; Brief Mention of Corpses; Gun Use; Implied Unloving Parents; Implied Child Abuse; Implied Drug Abuse; Blood & Gore; Arson & Alcohol; Will & Steph's Mental Strain - Joyce's Too; Hopper Being a Great Cop & A Total Mess; Dustin Being a Slight Asshole; Steve's 'Asshole Era'; Steve's Emotional Damage. READ AT YOUR OWN RISK!

(And let me know if I missed anything)

🎲A/N: I am sooooo sorry this took so long! It was never my intention to have neglected it for this long, but here it is. Hopefully it lives up to your expectations. Also, small heads up, I've only re-read this over a few times, so hopefully everything makes sense and looks good. Thank you for your patience ❤️. Enjoy!

You know what they say… Curiosity kills the cat. Or in this instance…

Curiosity kills the Wheeler.

Now she was staring at something truly horrifying, something that was like out of a Stephan King novel or out of an exorcist movie. This… thing was huge. When she first caught a glance of it at Steve’s house she never pictured it that big. An eight foot, lanky, twisted limb individual that was feasting on a poor deer. Her breath was caught in her throat, its munching sounds found its way into her ears rocking her to her core; Her dying flashlight was shaking in her hand.

She needs to leave, go back through the tree before this thing decides it wants desert. Yet, luck was not on her side, as soon as she took a step backwards something crackled beneath her feet. On cue the monster turns around with a shriek, causing her to drop everything and run.

“Jonathan!” She screams, hoping that he – someone – would hear. Then her heart skipped a beat when she got a reply. “JONATHAN!!”

“Nancy!”

She twisted around the trees, the beast right on her tail–

“I’m right here! Nancy! Just follow my voice!”

Follow his voice. Follow his voice. Follow his voice. Follow his– The thing decided to lunge, which she manages to get out of the way in the nick of time, running in a new direction.

“Follow my voice, Nancy, I’m right here! Nancy?!”

She pulls herself to a halt, clinging onto a tree and taking a breather. She hears him but she just can’t see him! Everything was starting to blur and look the same to the point she doesn’t even know where the damn entrance is!

“Jonathan…?” She whispers, and chokes down a sob as she hears the beast growling and lurking around somewhere behind. Is this it? Is this how her life was going to end? In a place that people probably won’t even believe exists? She shook to her core, the beast footsteps starting to fade, but what good would that be if she didn’t know where she was going?

But something must have answered her prayers as a hand suddenly covers her mouth, startling her as someone quietly and quickly shushes beside her ear. Her stomach dropped to her ankles, as she fearfully followed the hand to… she couldn’t even finish the thought she was so taken back. She was completely baffled to find it belonged to the Police Chief of Hawkins.

The Police Chief? She thought, her mind of course strolling to the dread and the worst of it all. Did her parents call because she was gone? Did Hopper get abducted like poor Will and Stephanie? What could it–

Once he registers that he has her attention (mostly), he silently tells her to follow him. Obliging, she stays close, following him right back to where she came through.

Relief fell through her, then once again horror when that growling came back at full force. The two parties stop, frozen as the beast returns a few paces behind them; Then… 

It charged. The next few seconds were a blur for Nancy– 

Barely remembering how he grabbed her and held her close–

Barely registering him taking out his firearm and taking shots–

Barely recalling as he yanked them both backwards into a tree–

.

.

.

Both Jonathan and Joyce let out a scream when someone’s hand shot through the bubble.

“HELP!!!” It shouts, their eyes widened.

“Hang on!!” Joyce yells, as her and her son use a death grip on his hand, planting their feet into the Earth and pulling with all their might. All it took was their faces to turn bloodshot red before finally seeing the upper half of Hopper’s body. “Ugh– COME ON!!”

And one more large yank from the both of them sent them flying across the forest floor, and Hopper crashed flat on his back with Nancy in his hold.

Hopper immediately squeezed the sobbing girl comfortably, reassuring her softly. “It’s okay. I got you. I got you…”

“Nancy!” Jonathan sighs with relief, him and Joyce crawling over to see them. He helped them sit up, the two of them covered in a weird goo, both looking like they had just seen hell and survived. 

As the four of them tried to process the last few minutes, they gazed upon the tree that was slowly closing itself back up. 

•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°

“Eleven!” Her name erupted his throat for the thousandth time tonight. Steve’s not quite sure what time it was, but it was definitely dark and freezing cold, yet he refuses to give up. “Eleven!”

Once he was completely sure his mother was dead asleep it was easy enough to slip out again. Dressed as warmly as he could, flashlight in hand, baseball bat in the other with a backpack full of supplies for anything that he might need along the way. He even brought an extra jacket to sling around the kid when he found her. He was left circling around the junkyard and the area around it; And of course it had to be all wooded, the perfect place to hide.

“Eleven!” He shouts again, then sighs, his breath could be seen in the air. “Look, kid, I… I don’t know if you can hear this, but if you can, I’m not mad about what happened. Frankly, I’m more worried about you. And that’s the god’s honest truth, I swear, I just…” Another sigh. “It’s cold, and I don’t want you freezing. I just… I-I just want you to be alright, kiddo. Okay?”

Of course he was expecting an answer, but he had a feeling he wasn’t going to get a reply which was correct. Instead, he was met with a heavy wind blow that sent a chill through his body.

Shit… He frowns. “Listen, if I don’t see you in the next few hours or you don’t want to approach me, just… please consider going back to Mike’s place, or… you can even come to mine.”

Then he mentally slapped himself. Of course she wouldn’t know his place! “Um, if– if you remember where Will’s house is, I’m not too far from there. The woods across the street just take that straight through. The walk’s about… forty minutes, and uh, my house has a big pool in the backyard and… I’ll be waiting for you. Um…”

It kind of hurts that he’s not getting an answer.

“I’ll probably have to repeat what I just said in a few hours but–” His face morphs into something warm and greeting. “I really hope you heard what I said. And please consider.”

Nothing again, and Steve prays that she hears him, I mean, that’s all he can do as he starts his walk back up again; Shouting her name over and over until the sun starts to rise.

•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°

|| THE OTHER SIDE ||

She felt him pull the blanket around them closer before snuggling against her side – not just for warmth this time, but for comfort, something they both desperately needed now. Steph and Will found themselves sitting inside Castle Byers, both trying to stay snug, both trying to process what had happened in the last few hours, those…

Those hours that they couldn’t even believe just happen. 

“So…” Steph begins, fiddling with the walkman in her hands, the one that apparently saved her from the nightmare she was in. “You just played music?”

“Uh, huh.” Will said, nodding.

“And…” Her hands shook at the slightest. Just thinking about it made her skin crawl. “How did you know how to do that?”

“I didn’t.” He frowns, visibly upset. “Like I said earlier, when I accidently turned on the boombox, the music was scaring the monster away. So I thought, maybe, whatever had a hold on you would have the same effect.”

“Well it worked.” She lays the device in her lap, sighing into her hands, thinking. “Listen, Will, I’m going to be blunt.” She meets his worried gaze. “I don’t think we’re going to make it.”

Steph hated how easily those words slipped out, how easily it was to admit that they were stuck in a rut. Her fingers clawed at her thighs as she continued, “I mean, I have faith in your mom, I really do, but we’re running out of time here. And who knows if she’s even figured out a way to get to us, if she knows where we are. We’re both…” She swallows. “We’re both physically and mentally tired, we’re starving and cold too. I mean, if that thing doesn’t kill us, then the cold certainly will. Look at us, we’re shaking and we have layers upon layers of clothes that slowly are not doing much for us. We’re slowly dying at this point.”

Will says nothing knowing she’s right. He’s lost count how many pairs of socks were on his feet, or sweaters he has under his jacket. “Then… what do we do?”

She sighs again, rubbing her forehead (and putting her brain into overdrive). “Alright let’s stop and really think. We obviously weren’t the only ones brought here, right? Remember the girl from Steve’s pool?”

“Yeah.” He straightens up a bit, catching on what she was trying to explain. “From the looks of it, that thing caught her off guard.”

“See, that’s what I was thinking. What if that thing–” She shakes her head. “You know what, we got to give it a name. Can’t keep calling it ‘thing’ or ‘beast’, it’s confusing. Um…”

Will suddenly recalls what started all this indirectly. “...I got beaten by the Demogorgon.”

“Huh?”

“I rolled a seven, and I needed to roll a ten, so I ended up getting beaten by the Demogorgon.” He locks eyes with her again. “We got beaten by the Demogorgon.”

She clenches her jaw. “The Demogorgon. That’s what is hunting us.” Steph says, while nodding. “Okay. Okay. Alright, so what I was thinking is that Demogorgon is like a wolf. It kills its prey, and drags it back to the den, its home, this place, to feast.”

“So… it’s hungry, and this whole place is its home?”

“Correct. The thing is, who knows if we are even the Demogorgon’s first victims? There could have been plenty of people before us that got dragged here. There’s probably been more people than the girl at the pool we saw.”

“So if it’s dragging people here, then it’s somehow able to travel between here and Hawkins. Like it’s using a gateway.”

“Correct. But I don’t think it’s using one gateway, I think there’s somehow more than one.”

He tilts his head, curious. “How so?”

“Remember what you said? The girl looked like she was caught off guard. But–” How does she phrase this? “But she was scared like we were scared when we first saw that thing. Now, I mean we’re still scared anytime we come across the Demogorgon, but not like the first meeting, right?”

“Yeah.” Will said, after taking a second to process it. “Yeah, you’re right.”

“See? Every time we encounter it, it comes out of nowhere.”

“Like it portal-hops, almost.”

“Yeah, exactly.”

“So out there…” He starts looking more hopeful. “There’s at least a few gateways. So all we have to do is find one, and maybe it’ll take us home.”

Steph nods before frowning. “There’s only one problem about that. Every time we try doing something to help us get out of here, the Demogorgon shows up. I mean, this evil version of Hawkins is still Hawkins. It’s huge. We’ll never be able to search around without having to worry about it showing up.”

“We have to do something then.”

“Yeah. I mean–” She shrugs. “What can we do? Music and guns seemed to only stun it.”

“Unless, we figure out a way to not stun it. What if…” Will couldn’t believe what was coming out of his mouth next–

.

.

.

“What if we kill it?”

•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°

Hopper let himself close his eyes as he rested at the table, sitting in nothing but his boxer briefs and undershirt. His (dry clean only) uniform had been shoved into the wash in an attempt to get the sticky goo off as he’s second in line for the shower. He was still trying to process what he just went through in the last hour. Another world, real monsters, the lab, the Staties, the fake bodies, everything. It was way too much for the forty-two year old man to wrap his head around. Way too much for any sane human being.

My god… what have I gotten myself into? He was pulled from his thoughts when someone rattled the table as they sat down.

“Look, we gotta go through this again.” Joyce pushed eagerly, hands flat against the news articles Hopper brought over.

The Police Chief looks at her tiredly. “I told you everything that I saw.” He replies, then takes a puff of smoke from his cigarette. 

“Oh, my gosh.” She rolls her eyes. “Tell me again.”

Just before Hopper could continue, her son came into the room, looking mentally and physically exhausted. “Is she alright?” He asked, getting a nod.

“Yeah.” Jonathan said, nervously fiddling with his hands as he took a seat with them. “She’s showering right now.”

“That’s good.” Joyce said, before turning her attention back on the other adult. “Continue.”

“Upstairs or downstairs?” He asks, softly. 

“Upstairs.”

“There was a laboratory. It was where they must do experiments or something, and then there was… there was this kid’s room–”

“How do you know it was a kid’s room?”

“It’s.. M-More like a prison.”

“So why would you think it was a kid’s room, then?”

Hopper inhales sharply. “Because, I told you, the size of the bed, there was a drawing, there was a stuffed animal–”

Joyce perks up. “You didn’t say there was a drawing.”

“Yeah, there was a drawing of a... an adult and a child. It said ‘Eleven’ on it.”

“Was it good?” Both Joyce and Jonathan said in unison, both having the same idea.

Hopper looks between the two, confused. “It was a kid’s drawing. It was stick figures.”

Joyce then sighs herself, getting up quickly to fetch something before slamming it down in front of him. “Wasn’t Will.” She clarifies, as he takes in the skillful drawing, confusion going away instantly.

Although that went away, something else took its place.

His eyes widened. “Earl…” Hopper mutters, setting the drawing aside to grab the news articles, shifting them around to find something he just thought of. “The night that Benny died, Earl said he saw some kid with a shaved head with Benny. Now, I pressed him, he said it might be Will, but maybe…”

“Maybe, it wasn’t?” Jonathan asked, him and his mother leaning in closer to what the cop was digging around for. 

“Look…” He flashes the piece of paper at them, a woman plastered on the front of it all. “This woman, Terry Ives, she claims to have lost her daughter, Jane. She sued Brenner, she sued the government… Now, the claims came to nothing, but what if…” A look of horror crosses his face. “I mean, what if this whole time I’ve been… I’ve been looking for Will… I’ve been chasing after some other kid? What if this goes so much deeper than we thought?”

“So you’re saying that, maybe this Brenner guy is taking kids for some… experiment?” Joyce asked, trying to get some clarity. 

“Maybe yes, maybe no.” He replies, his fingers subtly twitching against the table. “But I know in my gut that the lab has something to do with your son’s disappearance. It has to. There’s too many paths crossing for them not to be.”

“Okay, but if that is the case, why Will? And where does Stephanie fit into this?” Jonathan asked.

“Here’s the thing about Stephanie, with all the evidence we have, I think she simply was just at the wrong place at the wrong time. I think Will was always the main target, she just happened to be there when they decided to move in.” Hopper sighs. “Where is she now? I don’t know. But they must have crossed paths with her once if they managed to make a fake corpse that looks like her.”

The teenager took a moment to think everything over, before shaking his head. “This is getting… insane. Really insane.”

“Tell me about it, kid. I know.”

“Then what’s the next step? Where do we go from here?” Joyce asks, but before she got an answer, Nancy had entered the room. Semi-damp towel wrapped around her neck, and dressed in clothes she was given, she comes in with a distant look that she tries to play off.

“Thank you for the clothes, and shower, Ms. Byers.” 

“Oh, no need to thank me. Um…” Joyce takes a step towards her with a warm smile. “Listen, it’s late. How about you stay the night?”

“Are you sure?” Nancy asked, surprised. 

“Yes, I’m sure. Just… call your mother. I wouldn’t want her to worry. Uh, Jonathan–” She gets her son’s attention. “Why don’t you show her where the phone is and get the extra blankets and pillows out?” She awaits for them to disappear from sight before turning back to Hopper and asking,  “So what’s the next step?”

•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°

It wasn’t until she had to get Joyce on the phone to confirm she really was at the Byers Household that Nancy was allowed to stay. They came up with some excuse that Nancy was helping Jonathan with some homework and it went later than expected. Luckily, Karen bought it, and now her daughter was wondering how she was even going to get any sleep. Every time she closes her eyes… she sees that thing. That monster stalked her like prey, and was this close to snagging her and the Police Chief and ending their lives.

This. Freaking. Close.

I mean… how would Jonathan and his mother explain to her family what happened? To explain how she was eaten/killed by a beast with no eyes?  Speaking of…

“You feel better?” Jonathan asks, as he looks up from fixing up his bed when enters the room. 

“Yeah.” She said, nodding. 

“That’s good. Um…” He shifts nervously on the balls of his feet, gesturing to the object at hand. “I-Is my bed okay? Do you need another blanket? Or–”

Nancy shakes her head. “I-I can’t take your bed.”

“Trust me, my mom will kill me if I offer you the couch.” He chuckles. “Just take it. I’ll sleep in Will’s room.”

“You sure?” She asks, and he nods. “Okay.”

“Okay.” He repeats, and starts making his way to leave, but–

“It’s just, um…” Her hands squeeze together tightly. “I… I don’t wanna be alone, so….” She adverts her eyes. “Can you, like, stay with me tonight?”

“S-Stay?” He slurs, surprised.

She shakes her head slowly as she sits down on the bed. “Yeah…”

“Uh, y-yeah. I-I’ll stay. Um–” He looks around the room. “Just let me get–”

“Can you just come sit? Uh, you can… take half the bed if you want or…” She groans quietly into her hands, before shuttering visibly. “Jesus…”

Jonathan immediately sits down as well, taking in how scared she is and tries to find the right words. “You know, it… it can’t get us in here.”

“We don’t know that.” Nancy whispers, looking at him “Every time I close my eyes, I just… keep seeing that... thing. Wherever I was, that place… I think that it lives there. It was feeding there. Feeding on that deer.”

“Hey, I won’t let it get you.”

“But it got everyone else? That means that if… if Will, Stephanie and Barbara…”

“Hey.” He wraps an arm around her shoulder, giving her a side hug. “My mom said she talked to Will. Talked to Stephanie. If they’re alive, there’s a chance Barbara is, too. That means that she’s… trapped in that place. We just have to find it again.”

She gives him a puzzled look. “You wanna go back out there?”

“I don’t know.” He frowns. “I’ll see what my Mom and the Police Chief say tomorrow, then I’ll make a decision.” 

•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°

Dustin springs up and off the couch when he hears the front door open and shut. Walking the direction of where it was, he was nearly bulldozed over by his big sister, whose arms were crossed and had a sour look upon her face.

“Where have you been?” He asked, following her closely behind. “You didn’t walk me home from school, and you’ve been gone for six hours now. Mom’s worried sick and is looking for you.”

“Well I’m fine. I just wanted to clear my head.” She mutters, heading for her room.

“You could have cleared your head when you came home. You could have just told mom you wanted some time alone. You didn’t have to freaking disappear on us.” What will their mom say? She’s been freaking out and fearing the worst and his sister’s acting like it’s nothing! What’s her deal? “Phanie? Phanie you listening? Phanie–”

“Jesus, Dustin–” She turns around to face him, stopping in the middle of her doorway. Her sour expression had faded into a certain sadness he couldn’t pinpoint. “Just– I’ll explain to mom what happened, I just… I just want to be left alone.”

His shoulders slack at her tone. “Okay. That’s fine. It’s just, we were just worried, you know? You normally don’t disappear like that. We… should I call Steve to let you know you’re fine? I’m sure he’s worried–”

“I don’t want to talk about Steve. I don’t want you to, or mom, I don’t even want to see him again.”

“Phanie…?”

“I don’t–” She laughs quietly on the verge of tears. “I shouldn’t even be crying. It’s not like he cares, or that he wants to be my friend anymore, or… h-he acts like he doesn’t so… fuck–”

“Stephanie–”

“Just leave me alone!”

Then she slams the door in his face without a warning or word. 

.

.

.

That was over two years ago, and he still doesn’t know the full story (and even doubts that he ever will). His sister told their mother they had a bit of a disagreement that led to their falling out, ending all discussions and/or thoughts about the boy; Everything she had that held any memory of him was long stored away. Or so he thought.

Dustin still couldn’t wrap his head around why she was still wearing this damn necklace he gave her. Out of everything that they gave one another, he would think that this gift was the most sentimental of them all, so why keep it?

He examines in his palm almost wanting to chuck in the trash, but another part of him wants to wait until he gets his sister back to ask her, ‘Why? Just why?’. 

Phanie. I just don’t get it. Is there something I’m missing? But his thoughts were abruptly stopped when his walkie fired up with feedback. He sets it aside and grabs the walkie, pulling up the antenna to listen.

[ ‘Dustin, you copy?’ ]

“Yeah, Mike. I copy. What’s up?”

[ ‘Meet me at my place. We got to go over a few things.’ ]

“Copy that. Over and out.”

•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°

|| THE OTHER SIDE ||

Will couldn’t believe where all the confidence suddenly came from, especially given their situation. But for some reason, it all felt so right to say.

Stephanie stares at the boy with her big blue eyes, a little bit shocked by what he said. “You want to kill it?” She asked, to confirm.

“Yeah.” He says, adrenaline pumping his veins. “What if we kill the Demogorgon? If we kill it, it might be our only shot at finding a gate unscathed.”

She blinks. “That’s… that’s not the most terrible idea I’ve heard. But how does one kill a thing like that?”

Will hums, brows pushed together in concentration. “Music?”

“Music could work.” She nods. “However, from what you told me, one boombox seemed to just scare it off. There’s no electricity, it’s not like we can broadcast a song over the radio, we’re going to need a lot more boxes. Plus, who knows if we have to play the same song on all of them. There’s no way everyone in town has the same cassettes.”

“True.” He bites his lip. “Guns? We can go get more.”

“Guns could do the job. But when you faced it back at the house? Did it look injured at all? I shot after we talked with your mom.”

“Hmm.” He stops to rack his brain again. Did it? “I think it was injured, but it surely didn’t stop it from coming after me.”

“Okay. So if we use guns, I mean we’re going to have to rapidly fire after rapid fire.”

“That’s going to be too hard.”

“Yeah.”

“So what do we do?”

Stephanie stops to think for herself, pulling the blanket close when she gets a chill. And that’s when the lightbulb went off. “Cold.” She gasps quietly. “This place is cold. It must like the cold. If it likes the cold, then–”

“It hates the heat.” Will perks up excitedly. “Heat is the weakness, then–”

“We can kill the Demogorgon with it.” She couldn’t help but smile at the revelation. “Alright, quickly. What is stuff that’s flammable?”

“Flammable? Um, matches, gasoline, lighter fluid–”

“Alcohol.” She replies. “If we can get all those things, find a good place to set up a trap, overload the shit out of it with everything it hates, and we kill it then…”

“We might be able to go home.”

Their gazes lock again, and suddenly they felt like they were finally on the same level, save wavelength with their thinking. They finally found something that could bribe them into not losing their will to live.

“Then let’s go shopping.” Steph said, grinning. Her words kickstarted them to pack everything up and crawl out of the hideout. Before they took off, she stares down at the walkman again, thinking. “You know, just thought of something.”

“What?” Will asks, looking up at her.

“Remember when we said that maybe we could hear people if they were only thinking negatively?”

“Yeah.”

“Well, they say when playing your favorite music, your brain releases dopamine, giving you a sense of euphoria. What if playing the music keeps all the bad things away?”

“That makes sense. You did say when you were trapped in that place, it got all brighter when the song was playing.”

“Yeah. It did.” She looks down at it again, fascinated by how such a basic thing saved her life. 

“Maybe you should wear it while we walk there.”

“You think?”

“Yeah. Better safe than sorry, you know?”

“Yeah, I guess.” She sighs. “Okay, I will. But listen–” She makes sure she has his full attention. “If you start feeling weird, or you get a headache, or your nose starts to bleed, or anything unusual, you need to tell me and I’ll hand it over. Capish?” He nods. “Good. Got ‘The Clash’ cassette?”

“Yep.” He nods, patting his pocket.

“Alright. Let’s go.” She slides on the headsets and starts the song before taking his hand.

•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°

Joyce was nervously fiddling with the cigarette in her mouth as she waited for Hopper to get off the phone with some kind of news. She hopes it’s good news, she hopes that he’s able to use his connections to get some kind of push in the right direction.

Come on, Hop. Don’t let me down. She soon watches him hang the phone on the receiver, and turns her way. “Did you get it?” 

“I got it.” Hopper replies, waving the piece of paper around. 

“Got what?” Jonathan interrupted as he entered the kitchen. “Mom?”

“Um–” She briefly looks over at the Police Chief. “We found out where that Terry Ives woman lives. We’re going to pay her a visit.”

“Oh.” He looks between them for a second. “Just the two of you?”

“Listen–” She places her hands on his shoulder. “It would be best if just me and Hopper went alone.”

“Mom–”

“She’s right, son.” Hopper cuts in. “Something big is going on, and it would be best and safe if you and Nancy stay behind.”

“But, Chief–”

“If the lab is really behind this, then it’s better that they don’t know the two of you are involved in solving this, alright?”

As much as he hated to admit it, Jonathan knew he had a point. “Alright.”

“Just… make sure Nancy gets home safe, and stays out of trouble.” Hopper glances over at Joyce. “I’ll get the car started up.”

“Okay.” She says, watching him leave. “Listen–” She pats her son’s chest to make sure he’s paying attention. “If you want to, you can stalk up on ammo for our guns, that’s fine with me. However that’s not an invitation to be going after that thing we saw. Guns are emergencies only. Alright?”

He cracks a small smile. “Alright.”

“Good. And only if Nancy feels up to it. But I have a feeling that she’s not leaving until she gets some answers too.”

“Okay, mom. I got it. We’ll be good.”

“Good.” She says, just before Hopper honked his horn and shouted something incoherently. “Okay. I got to go. Love you, and be safe.”

“I will.” He squeezes her hand real quick. “You too. Be safe.” He anxiously watches her leave, and that’s with him knowing how skilled Hopper is. He knows she’s in safe hands, but still. They still haven’t puzzled all the pieces together yet. Who knows what is still missing and awaits. 

“Where did they run off to?” Nancy asked upon entering. She was dressed in her old clothes from yesterday, freshly cleaned, and her brown locks tied back in a ponytail. 

“Actually that’s what I wanted to talk to you about.” Jonathan says, all business now. “They figured out something last night. Something about the lab and having a connection in all this.”

“The Hawkins Lab?” She gives him a strange look. “What does a research lab have to do with all this?”

He sighs. “I think it’s time to get you up to speed.”

•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°

Strange.

The forty year old science teacher at Hawkins Middle school surely wasn’t expecting any kind of guest today. Nor someone so special like the woman before him. Dressed very nicely, hair done perfectly, and with a bright smile she shared with him why she’s here with much excitement.

“-and we’re making a newsletter, which we’ll send out monthly.” She continues as she hands him over a pamphlet that says: ‘The Indiana AV Club’. “It’ll showcase all the latest equipment, as well as how-to articles, which the kids write themselves.”

His face lights up as he reads. “Oh, that’s neat.”

“What we’re really trying to do here, Mr. Clarke–”

“Uh, please, call me Scott.”

“Scott.” She tests, her smile growing bigger. “What we’re trying to do here, Scott, is to connect kids from all over the state and give them the support and encouragement to pursue careers in technology. We feel these are the kinds of kids that are going to make Indiana proud.”

“I agree, yes.” He nods. “Completely.”

Hook.

“So, you know any kids you think might wanna participate?”

Line.

“Oh, I have a few in mind.”

Sinker.

•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°

Dustin is this close to shoving his friend’s head into a wall. He swears, out of all his friends, both Mike and Lucas are constantly fighting for the title of ‘Most Hot Headed/Overexaggerator’. Will was too quiet to ever play peace-keeper, so naturally this role fell on him. But man… after knowing them both for so long, it was really hard to keep the ‘peace’ part of the role up.

“I just... I can’t believe she didn’t come back.” Mike repeated and paced around the basement once more.

“She’s gotta be close.” Dustin tries again to reassure. 

“She said it wasn’t safe. She just messed up the compasses because she wanted to protect us. She didn’t betray us–”

Dustin bites his lip. “Mike, calm down.”

“I shouldn’t have yelled at her. I never should’ve done that.”

“Mike, this isn’t your fault.”

“Yeah, it’s Lucas’.”

“It wasn’t his fault, either.”

That got the Wheeler to stop moving around and give a stern glare. “It wasn’t his fault?”

“No.” Dustin said, standing his ground.

“So you’re saying he wasn’t way out of line?”

“Totally, but so were you!”

“What?” Mike scoffs.

“And so was Eleven.”

“Oh, give me a break!”

“No, Mike, you give me a break!” The Henderson jabbed his finger at him. “All three of you were being a bunch of little assholes. I was the only reasonable one. Shit, hate to admit it, but even fucking Steve Harrington was being reasonable. The bottom line is... you pushed first. And you know the rule. You draw first blood…”

Mike shakes his head and throws his hands in the air. “No! No way! I’m not shaking his hand.”

“You’re shaking his hand!” 

“No, I’m not.”

“This isn’t a discussion. This is the rule of law. Obey or be banished from the party. Do you wanna be banished?”

Mike crosses his arms and looks away. “No.” He whispers.

“Good.”

“Kids, that boy Steve’s here.” Karen yells from above, the boys perking up with a bit of hope. They waited (im)patiently for him to come down as he strolled in with a new layer of Fall clothes and a tired face.

“Well?” Mike asked, nervously.

“I’m sorry.” Steve said, making them frown. “I walked around those woods for six hours, and then I even waited to see if she would show up at my place. Nothing.” 

“Shit…” Dustin mutters.

“Well, thanks for looking.” Mike said, genuinely. 

Steve nods in reply, shifting his weight around on his throbbing feet before asking, “How’s Sinclair?”

“We were just about to go check.” Dustin answers first, moving around them both to grab his backpack.

“We are?” Mike asked, confused. 

“Yes, Mike. We’re doing this now. We’re going to get Lucas. And then we’re gonna find Eleven. Alright?” He sighs, before looking at the oldest teen. “Steve, thank you for looking, we’ll take it from here.”

Steve straightens out his posture immediately as the kid starts trying to leave without. “Hey, hey, hey–” He maneuvers in front of him, blocking him from the stairs. “This wasn’t a one time thing. I’m staying with you guys.”

“Dustin, come on, man, we talked about this.” Mike said, turning their roles around. His friend’s shoulder sagged and he muttered something under his breath. 

Steve takes a quiet inhale before addressing him. “Look, Henderson, I know you hate me, you have every right to hate me, but right now you need all the help you can get.” His jaw tightens. “Not to mention, whoever’s responsible for all this doesn’t mind getting their hands dirty. They’re not going to care that you guys are twelve year old boys. You need me, whether you like it or not.”

Dustin lets out a long, angry exhale as Mike locks his gaze with the older boy.

“Now, let’s go get Lucas, let’s find Eleven, find the gate, and pray that it leads to your sister and Will.” Steve finishes, and the curly haired kid exhales again.

“Fine.” He huffs.

“Good. We’ll take my car. Will go to Lucas’ and then I’ll take us to the woods. Capish?”

“Capish.” They say, as they follow him out of the basement. 

•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°

|| THE OTHER SIDE ||

Will looked around the store wondering where they even began. His big doe eyes then turned to the teenager who pushed a shopping cart over to him. “What do we grab?”

“Whatever we can.” Steph says, grabbing a cart of her own with a smirk. “And obviously you don’t have to worry about the price.”

That got him to laugh as they migrated around the store, filling up with stuff they talked about. The teenager found herself starting with certain alcohol that she knew could be considered “flammable”. Some of the numbers were… extremely high and made her question people’s choices (And she thought the whiskey Steve and her drank at the Snow Ball was strong).

Thank god I never drank imported Vodka. She keeps filling her cart up, just as Will comes around the corner with something.

“Hey, hairspray’s flammable, right?” He asks, holding up a can.

“Uh, yeah. It is.”

He hums, taking the cap off and harmlessly spraying the air. “Huh. That’s probably not going to do much though.”

“Probably not.” She says, making him nod and was about to leave when an idea struck her. “Wait.” He stops. “I’m actually getting an idea. Whatever hairspray you can fit in that cart, do it.”

“You know how to build the trap?” He asked, hopeful.

“If I’m picturing this all out correctly, I know this is going to work. But we’re going to need a shit ton of stuff if it’s going to cover the whole place.”

“And where’s that place?”

“Remember that old building with the broken clock tower I took you to?” He nods. “I know that place like the back of my hand. If I’m picturing the trap right I think I know exactly how to set everything up.”

“And we’re going to need a lot?” 

“A hell lot.” She hopes her imagination won’t let her down on this one. She starts pushing her cart towards him and heads off for a new one while saying, “Keep grabbing everything flammable, I’m going to get some tools.”

“What kind of tools?” He asked, curiously.

“Basic tools. Hammer, screwdrivers, saw–”

“Saw?”

“Yeah. Saw.” 

“What’s the saw for?”

“‘Cause–” She turns around with a smirk. “It’s completely illegal, but a sawing off the front of a shotgun makes the impact more intense, right?”

•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°

Steve stayed a few steps behind the boys as they knocked on the door and awaited their fate; Which seemed dreary when Lucas saw who it was. 

“What do you want?” He snapped, and it wasn’t until Dustin slapped Mike in the arm he finally got his answer.

“I drew first blood, so…” He holds out his hand, Lucas’ eyes scanning him head to toe for any signs of a lie. 

The Sinclair sighs, thinking it over. “Okay, I’ll shake. On one condition.” He crosses his arms and stands tall. “We forget the weirdo and go straight to the gate.”

“Then the deal’s off!” Mike scoffs, and turns around to leave.

“Fine!”

“Fine!”

“No, no, not fine!” Dustin said, stopping Lucas from closing the door.

“Guys, seriously?” Steve said, blocking Mike from taking another step. “Stop acting like you’re six, and talk it out like your age.”

“Come on!” Dustin claps his hands together, tackling this head on. “Do you even remember what happened on the Bloodstone Pass?” He watches his friends stare in confusion and sighs. “We couldn’t agree on what path to take, so we split up the party and those trolls took us out one by one. And it all went to shit. And we were all disabled! So we stick together, no matter what!”

His little speech managed to knock some sense into them, and all seemed hopeful till…

“Yeah, I agree.” Lucas said, and gestured to everyone. “But this is the party, right here. The three of us.”

“El is one of us now.” Mike said, as he got an eye roll for a reply.

“Um, no, she’s not. Not even close! Never will be. She’s a liar, a traitor–”

“She was just trying to keep us safe! She didn’t mean to hurt you. It was an accident!”

He scoffs. “An accident?”

“All right, accident or not… admit it, it was a little awesome.” Dustin said, unintentionally digging a bigger hole in the ground for them.

Lucas blinks (with Steve face palming in the background). “Awesome?”

“Yeah, she threw you in the air with her mind!”

“I could have been killed!”

“Which is exactly why we need her. She’s a weapon!” Mike explains. “Do you seriously wanna fight the Demogorgon with your wrist rocket? That’s like R2-D2 going to fight Darth Vader. We’re no use to Will and Steph if we’re dead.”

Lucas shakes his head, clearly frustrated, clearly fed up. “If you two and Steve wanna waste your time looking for a traitor, go ahead, ’cause I’m not spending my time on her anymore. No way! I’m going to the gate. I’m gonna find them.”

And the door slams shut.

•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°

It took a bit to get up to Bloomington but they made it; That’s all that matters. Hopper parked his car on the gravel driveway, him and Joyce getting out and cautiously moving towards the front door of the residence. It took several knocks until a petite blonde woman answered. She seemed on her toes just like they were.

“Can I help you?” 

“Hi, we’re looking for Terry Ives. Does she live here?” Hopper asks.

Her brown eyes darted between them. “Who’s asking?”

“The Hawkins chief of police.” He flashes her his badge long enough to give her a good look.

“And… you want to talk to my sister?”

“Well, if your sister’s Terry Ives, then, yeah, we do.”

She frowns, looking a bit apologetic. “Okay, well, you can come in, but if you want Terry to tell you anything, you’re about five years too late.” She lets him and guides them to the living room. “Terry, you have some visitors.”

Joyce presence herself in front of the woman in the rocking chair, the similarities in their features were enough to tell the Byers that these two were definitely sisters. 

“Hello. My name’s Joyce Byers. Uh, this is Hopper.” She begins, the woman turning her distant gaze off the TV towards them. “We drove over from Hawkins. Um, you see, uh, my son… he’s been missing for almost a week now, and, um, we were wondering if we could talk to you about your daughter, Jane? If there’s anything that you could tell us about when she was taken…”

“What was your relationship with Dr. Brenner? You guys keep in touch?” Hopper asked, observing from the doorway carefully.

Joyce fumbles with trying to unfold the picture for a second. “This is, uh... this is him. This is Will. Uh, you may have seen him on... on the news. Uh…”

Hopper casts his gaze to the relative, confused/concerned. “What’s wrong with her?”

“I told you, you’re wasting your time.” She replies, sadly.

•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°

|| THE OTHER SIDE ||

The four shopping carts rolled inside with ease, the duo looking around the place, that long been abandoned in their world, that they found use for. Stephanie nods after a while, the trap she thought of earlier was now fully registered.

“Yep. This is the place.” She said, while slinging the guns off her shoulders and putting them to the side.

“Where do we set it up?” Will asked, still not picturing it like she is.

“Everywhere. Let’s leave no square inch untouched.” She locks eyes with him. “And then we’re going to practice, over and over so we don’t get caught in them. Alright?”

“Right.”

“Good. Let’s get everything out. There’s no telling when the Demogorgon will return.” They’re both running out of time. For their sake, their sanity, they have to find a way out soon or they’re done for. So, thus starts the grueling process of trap making.

Will made sure to listen carefully as she explained what needed to be where – where to pour the gasoline, where to stick the trip wire, where to hide, etc. And they did practice like she said, in one area that was a pool of alcohol and gasoline just below where the broken bell tower stood, she showed him where to step on the bricks in order to not get any liquid on them. It was hard, especially when he knows they’re going to be running instead of walking when the Demogorgon does show up, but damn it to hell! He will not mess this up. He’s going to stay calm and stick to the plan that he wholeheartedly believes is going to work. 

Will finds himself setting aside another Molotov cocktail, before looking over at his companion. She was in the zone trying to saw their shotguns in half, which is a very hefty task on hand. The silence was starting to get to him a bit though, and there was still a… lingering question that was bothering him and wanted to ask, but should he? Or was it safer to make something else up? He ponders as he grabs an empty bottle before deciding to just come out and say it. What’s the worst she can do? Say no?

“Hey, Steph?”

“Yeah?” She said, eyes still trained on what’s in her hands.

“I have to ask again, but…” Should he back out? Should he–

“What is it?”

Well, here goes nothing. He takes a deep, quiet breath and says, “What happened between you and Steve?” She immediately pauses her actions, making him shrink quickly, like he was flinching away from someone’s attack. “You don’t have to tell me, I know it’s a touchy–”

“It’s fine. Really.” She meets his gaze. “I think I probably should talk about it with someone. Especially after the whole… floating-mind game I was in. I saw… a lot of memories of him.”

He fiddles with his hands nervously, curiously. “So…”

Stephanie sighs, her face flashing with pain. “I don’t know. One day he just pretended he didn’t know me.”

He blinks. “Really?”

“Yeah.” Her eyes grow distant as she recalls everything. “I remember that day clearly. We would always meet up in the doorways at school, and he wasn’t there that day. Mind you, we were both getting older, more responsibilities were being added onto us; And it was around the same time Steve was really getting into sports, so I thought maybe he was talking to one of his coaches.”

Another sigh before continuing, “Eventually, I found him, ran up to him, and I noticed he looked a bit sad so I asked him if he was okay. He told me he didn’t know who I was.” She catches the boy starting to look as hurt as she was. “I thought at first, maybe he was upset at me over something, so I tried all day to ask him what was up, and when the school day ended he just told me he has no idea who I am and why I’m bothering him and… left. We’ve never spoken again after that. Our… ten years of friendship ended just like that.”

Well…

Jesus H. Christ.

Will had no idea how to respond to this.

“Wow. What a…” He shook his head. “What a douchebag.”

She chuckles dryly. “Yeah, well, he wasn’t always like that. He’s not like what he is now. Trust me.” Then there was a bit of anger in her next words. “I suspected his parents might have threatened him with something to break our friendship. But I don’t know. Could be wrong about that.”

Will gives her a confused look. “What do you mean by that?”

She frowns, but it wasn’t directed at the said teenager. “Let me tell you a bit about Steve. He comes from a line of… rich people. Generational wealth. And due to this they have certain standards. Standards that Steve has to follow to the T.”

He blinks again, thinking. “But…” Another head shake. “But Mike’s family is not like that. I mean I know they’re not as rich as Steve’s, but still.”

“Well, a lot has to do with how Mike’s parents were raised. Not to mention, even though it might not seem like it sometimes, Karen and Ted do love each other in some way. And they really love their kids, and want nothing but the best for them. Tough and nurturing, in a healthy way.” Steph’s frown deepens. “But as for Steve’s, that nurturing and toughness goes a bit differently. Not exactly healthy.”

“How so?” Will asked, on the edge but invested in this tale.

Steph gives it some thought on how she should move forward. She had really only one story that would make sense of it all (or at least it wasn’t as violent as some of the other ones). She sets her stuff down, giving him her full attention now.

“I might have mentioned it to Dustin, or you guys, how I met Steve. Right?” She asks, waiting to confirm.

“Yeah. You said it was school.”

“But I never told anyone the full story. Not even Dustin or my mom knows.” She bites her lip and adverts her eyes for a split second. “Not even Steve knows.”

He tilts his head. “How does that work?”

She takes a deep breath. “It was probably a few weeks before the school year ended, and my class was to make cards to celebrate Mother’s day that was coming up. I remember being really excited about it. I drew my card, school ended and now I had to wait to be picked up. My mom mentioned earlier she might run behind because of work, but no biggie, I didn’t mind waiting.”

She could still picture it, holding her card close and humming a tune to herself as she waited and waited outside in front of the entrance of the Elementary school (The good old days, she calls it).

Stephanie was fiddling with her own hands now as she continued, “Kids started leaving one-by-one, and soon as I was the only one left. Or so I thought. I… suddenly heard this arguing, it was very loud, very terrible sounding, and… curiously I went to check it out, and there he was. Him and his mom. And… she’s yelling at him, telling him how crappy the card was, and how it should’ve been better, or this what he should have done, etc. And–” She swallows, hands tightening together. “Steve’s on the verge of tears, and he’s trying to come up with an explanation for her, and he promises he’ll do better and… um…”

“What?” He says, a bit scared for what was next. Especially when he saw the haunting look on her face.

“She… slaps him. Right across the face. And it was one of those slaps you know it hurt just by the sound of it.” His eyes widened. “Then, she grabbed him by the arm and dragged him back to the car.” She sighs and shifts in her seat. “I was so shocked by it, ‘cause I never witnessed something like that before, so…”  She shakes her head with a small groan. “God. I think at first I… I befriended him because it was out of pity, but that soon went away quickly. We became two peas in the pod in just one day. Never, ever alone.”

“That’s…” He was lost for words. “That’s so awful– So wrong. W-Why would they think that’ll make things better?”

She shrugs. “I don’t know.”

“But…” His fingers clenched his pants legs like a nervous tick. “D-Did they do anything else? We’re they always like that?”

Stephanie’s face morphed into total sadness now. “Listen, there’s a lot of stories I can’t tell you about his parents. They’re not exactly… kid friendly, to put it lightly. But yeah, they’ve done a lot of that, and a hell lot more.”

“Jesus.”

“But that’s why we worked together so well, Will. We complimented each other. He had shitty parents, and I was dealing with a shitty dad. We both helped each other navigate around that.” And ain’t that the truth. “But, besides all that negative stuff, he was a great kid. Me? I was a quiet kid, like you. I kept to myself most of the time, but Steve helped me come out of my shell. As for Steve? I helped him live a little, I helped him have a life that his parents never wanted him to have.”

“T-Then they should be grateful!” He says, sitting up straighter, more lively in his seat. “Y-You befriended their son. You were always there for him.”

“Will–”

“You helped him. Why should they be so upset about all this?”

She gives him a pitiful look for his sweet little heart he had. “Because I wasn’t perfect.” Her throat suddenly felt like it wanted to close up. “I wasn’t rich, I was a wild card. I had a sad, workaholic mother who was trying to keep us afloat, and a father that gambling 24/7 to the point we almost went bankrupt. There were a lot of cons in their eyes compared to the pros, which is probably zero.”

Despite the reasons, Will still couldn’t understand. She did nothing wrong! They should be mad at her. “But you were their son’s friend. That shouldn’t matter.”

She smiles just a tad and says, “You’re so sweet. I wish more people in the world could be like you. That’s why…” How does she cheer him up? “You gotta marry someone who is as kind hearted as you. So the legacy lives on.”

He snorts (Bingo!). “You sound like my mom.”

“Well, she’s not wrong.” She smirks. “But… I’ll tell you something funny about Steve. Maybe you can use it against him since he’s dating Mike’s sister.”

“And what’s that?” He asks, skeptical. 

“Guess what his middle name is?”

“Mmm… I don’t know. What?”

She grins. “Steven Grant Harrington.”

“Steven Grant–” He gasps. “Captain America!”

“Yep.” Steph chuckles. “Captain America. I remember when Steve told me his name, I started laughing. He was confused and I told him the truth. At first he was a little mad, but when I explained who Captain America was he seemed cool with it.”

“That’s awesome.”

“If you ever want to tease him, just call him Grant.”

“Oh, I’ll definitely remember that.” He finds himself smiling too and picking back up the empty bottle to continue his work. “My name’s Jacob.”

She perks up. “Jacob?”

“Named after my mom’s father.”

“That’s sweet. I’m Elizabeth.”

“Elizabeth?”

“My mom is a huge Elizabeth Taylor fan. I’m honestly surprised that wasn’t my first name.”

“Where does Stephanie come from?”

“Grandmother. At least that’s what she told me. But who knows? Knowing my mom… she got it off some cheesy magazine about cats.”

That seemed to do the trick for cheering him up because Will broke into a belly laugh that she hasn’t heard in a while. To her, besides “Separate Ways”, this was probably the best music she’s heard in a long time.

•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°

“This is weird without Lucas.” Dustin finally said after a long period of silence in the car. It felt weird, super weird not having all of his friends together at once. It already felt weird when Will disappeared, but now there’s no Lucas? Not much of a group anymore.

“He should’ve shaken my hand.” Mike said, just as Steve scolded him not to put his feet on his dashboard.

“He’s just jealous.”

Mike’s face morphed into confusion as he turned his whole body around to look in the backseat. “What are you talking about?” 

Dustin sighs. “Sometimes, your total obliviousness just blows my mind. He’s your best friend, right?”

“Yeah... I mean, I-I don’t know.”

“It’s fine. I get it. I didn’t start going to our school until the fourth grade.” He looks away, not wanting Mike to see the hurt in his eyes. Except Steve did. He caught his gaze in the rearview mirror and frowned. 

Damn it.

He forgot Steve knew the reason he didn’t go to public school right away thanks to his sister. 

He tries to act tough and tell him off. “I don’t need your pity Harrington, alright?” The tone made Steve break away and Mike give him the strangest look ever again.

Damn.

Damn this situation. 

Dustin sighs. “He had the advantage of living next door. But none of that matters. What matters is that he is your best friend.” He swallows. “And then this girl shows up and starts living in your basement, and all you ever want to do is pay attention to her.”

“That’s not true.” Mike reassures him. 

“Yes, it is. And you know it. And he knows it. But no one ever says anything until you both start punching and yelling at each other like goblins with intelligence scores of zero. Now everything’s weird.”

“He’s not my best friend.”

Dustin laughs. “Yeah, right.”

Mike sighs, reaching over to tap in the arm to get his attention. “I mean, he is, but so are you. And so is Will.”

“Can’t have more than one best friend.”

“Says who?”

“Says logic.”

“Well, I call bull on your logic, because you’re my best friend, too.”

Dustin notices his genuine expression and smiles, satisfied with the reply. “Okay.”

“Okay.” 

“Uh, hey, guys.” Steve interrupts, slowing the car down a little as the past pays a local grocery store. All eyes were on the front, spotting how the automatic doors were shattered and there were boxes of food laying around the parking lot filled with men in blue. “So… I’m assuming that might be…?”

Mike nods. “Uh... definitely. We’re going in the right direction then.”

•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°

The sister, Becky, brought them to the kitchen table, offering them cigarettes and some water while promising to explain. “She was a part of some study in college.”

“MK Ultra?” Hopper asks, getting a nod.

“Yeah, that’s the one.” She sighs. “Was, uh, started in the ’50s. By the time Terry got involved, it was supposed to be ramping down, but the drugs just got crazier. Messed her up good.”

“This was the CIA that ran this?”

Becky stared at for a second before a small smirk bestowed on her face. “You and Terry would’ve gotten along. ‘The Man’, with a big capital ‘M’.” Another sigh. “They’d pay... you know, a couple hundred bucks to people like my sister, give ’em drugs, psychedelics. LSD, mostly. And then they’d strip her naked and put her in these isolation tanks.”

“Isolation tanks?” Joyce asked after sparing a look with Hopper.

“Yeah.” She nods and stares explaining with her hands. “These big bathtubs, basically, filled with salt water, so you can float around in there. You lose any sense of, uh… sense and feel nothing, see nothing. They wanted to expand the boundaries of the mind. Real hippie crap. I... I mean, it’s not like they were forcing her to do any of this stuff. The thing is, though, is that she didn’t know she was pregnant at the time.”

“Jane.” Joyce whispers, getting another nod. She takes in a sharp inhale and asks, “Do you have any pictures of her?”

Becky paled and made sure they were both listening carefully. “I don’t think you guys understand. Terry miscarried in the third trimester.” Her words were like a knife to their heart, catching them both completely off guard.

“What?” Hopper said without realizing it at first.

“Come.” She says, standing up and making them follow. She takes them to a bedroom, a baby room, filled with a crib, toys, and anything else a newborn needs. “She keeps all of this up. Been doing it for 12 years.” She takes a seat, allowing them to walk around and observe. “Terry, uh, pretends like Jane is real, like she’s gonna come home someday. Says she’s special. Born with ‘abilities’.”

“Abilities?” Joyce asked, confused.

“You read any Stephen King?” Becky asks, surprising them again. She laughs. “You guys look scared, actually. I mean, it’s all make-believe.”

“What... what kind of abilities?”

“Telepathy, telekinesis… You know, shit you can do with your mind. That’s why the big, bad Man stole Jane away. Her baby’s a weapon, off fighting the commies.” She takes a long puff of her cigarette, frowning. “You know, the doctors all say it’s a coping mechanism. You know, to deal with the guilt.”

Joyce locks eyes with Hopper again before continuing, “Do you think there is any chance she could be telling the truth? Ab-About having had the kid.”

“There is no birth certificate, nothing from the hospital. Doctors and nurses all confirm that she miscarried.”

“Yeah, but that could’ve been covered up.” Hopper says, straightening up. “Right?”

Becky smirks again. “Like I said, you and Terry would’ve gotten along.”

•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°

After Jonathan explained what Hopper had found to Nancy, sure enough, his mother’s hunch was right. The eldest Wheeler needed some answers, and wasn’t going home until she got them. So he took up his mother’s suggestion and decided to stock up on ammo, getting ready for whatever comes next. 

“Monster Hunting?” He teased, as they came out of the store with a few boxes. He was poking fun at her response to the clerk asking why they were buying so much, and could help but laugh.

Nancy cracks a smile as she pops the trunk. “You know, last week… I was shopping for a new top I thought Steve might like. It took me and Barb all weekend. It seemed like life or death, you know? And... and now–”

“You’re shopping for shotgun shells with Jonathan Byers.”

“Yeah.” She chuckles.

“What’s the weirdest part? Me or the ammo?”

She gives him a playful look and says, “You. It’s definitely you.” Then their little moment was immediately ruined when someone honked their horn and rolled their window down to shout:

“Hey, Nance! Can’t wait to see your movie.” 

The highschoolers laughed as they drove off quicker, stunning them both.

“What the hell was that?” Jonathan asked, as she shrugged. But then it hit her. “What?” She suddenly takes off. “Wait! Where are you going? Nancy!”

It didn’t take long for him to catch up, finding her staring up at the local theater sign. The movie that was playing was called: “ALL THE RIGHT MOVES”, and was followed by a very unpleasant word mixed into her name that was written in bright red spray paint. 

“Oh, Jesus.” He mutters, but before he could apply any comfort, she stormed off again. “Nancy!” He followed her again, this time down an alleyway where he saw all the douchebags of high school were standing around and giggling. 

“What the hell’s wrong with you?” Nancy yells, getting their attention. 

Tommy, the one who had the spray paint can, takes center stage with a cocky look and attitude. “Well if isn’t the star of the show.” His eyes then trail to Jonathan. “And the devil himself. How we all doing?”

Nancy grits her teeth and smacks him across the face, the crowd ‘ooh-ing’ as he takes it like a champ. “What the fuck are you doing? Why would you write that?”

“‘Cause it’s the truth. You… have one fight with your Boyfriend and suddenly he’s not good enough for you, huh?”

“What?”

“What did you say to him? What was so bad that he suddenly isn’t showing up to school anymore? Or…” He jerks his thumb in Jonathan’s way. “How you just decided that the weirdo is better than the King? Come on.”

“Seriously?” Nancy scoffs. “You think I’m the reason that Steve’s not showing up at school? Unlike you, I’ve actually called him and even went to his house, to which he told me specifically that he was fine. Why hasn’t he been showing up? I don’t know! Maybe because he had to attend an old friend’s funeral yesterday?”

Carol snickers and laughs. “The nerd? Stephanie fucking Henderson? You really think those two were ever friends? He just felt sorry for how fucked up her family was and took pity.”

“Yeah.” Tommy says, grinning. “A drug addicted mother, a father arrested for illegal gambling; Two ‘fantastic’ people managed to fucked their own son over and give him all kinds of birth defects and diseases. I’m surprised your family gives them so much pity.”

“W-Wait…” Nancy pauses to try to wrap her head around what she had just heard. “Claudia…” What? “Ms. Henderson isn’t a drug addict.”

“Awe.” Carol pretends to pout. “Looks like Steve’s parents haven’t gotten close to you yet. What a shame.”

“His parents have a lot of dirt on a lot of people.” Tommy said in a sickening way. “Especially the Hendersons. There’s so much that this town doesn’t know about them, it’s shocking. Stephanie has a shit ton.” He chuckles. “God, the Harringtons can bury her to the center of the Earth with all the dirt they have on her.”

Then they all started laughing at the cruel joke it was, and Nancy was ready to go off when Jonathan took her by the arm and started stringing her away.

“Let’s go.” He says, calmly, but the bullies weren’t done yet.

“You know what, Byers? I’m actually kind of impressed.” Tommy says, trailing them. “I always took you for a queer, but I guess you’re just a screw up like your father.” He shoves him forward. “Oh, yeah. Yeah, that fucking house full of screw-ups. You know, we shouldn’t be surprised. A bunch of screw-ups in your family.”

“Tommy, stop.” Nancy hisses, as he shoves Jonathan again.

“I mean, your mom– I’m not even surprised what happened to your brother.”

“Tommy! Shut up!”

“I’m sorry I have to be the one to tell you, but the Byers, their family, it’s a disgrace to the entire–”

And that was the final straw as Jonathan turns around and sucker punches Tommy in the face. It took a brief second for him to recognize he got hit before all hell broke loose. So much so…

That this day ended with one of them in handcuffs.

•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°

The leaves crushed beneath their feets as they continue their trek along the train tracks, occasionally yelling the girl’s name. From where the trashed grocery store was, it laid directly near the forest that they’ve been wandering for a while now – staying in the direction they think she went. It shouldn’t be that hard then, right? Wrong. Going in one freaking direction didn’t seem that bad, but the tall trees didn’t seem to end any time soon. And what if she broke off? What if she went some other way? Then what? How many days will it take for them to comb the area until they find something? 

This all feels so… pointless. Steve admits in his thought. I mean, he probably combed at least nothing less than a quarter of forest last night, and he didn’t find anything! Nothing to point him in the right direction. And now, he and the boys actually had a lead and… nothing. Nothing at all. As much as the tiny voice in his head telling him to stop and go home, he knows Eleven’s the only way of finding their loved ones. 

And that is if she wants to help us after all this. He frowns, thinking about that. What if they find her and she blows them off? Then what? Do they just truly forget about her and move on? Nah… 

He knows that’s not the right answer either. But what if–

“Should we split up?” Mike asked, knocking the teenager back into reality.

“Absolutely not.” Steve immediately says, as they all slow down to talk. “Like I told you guys, whoever’s involved in this is not afraid to get their hands dirty.”

The kid sighs, remembering. “Yeah. You’re right. I forgot…”

“But what if we do?” Dustin said, shrugging.

Steve squares up and stands his ground quickly, prepared for an argument again. “Henderson–”

“No, seriously. What if we do? We can get it done quicker.”

“No. No splitting up.”

“We’ll get done–”

“I don’t care if it’ll get done quicker. We’re staying together. End of story.” Steve finishes, as he starts walking again alongside Mike.

“Then what do you expect us to do, Steve?” Dustin snaps, stopping them all once more.

“What?”

“You said it yourself, you checked the woods last night and didn’t find a thing! And that was just around the junkyard.”

“And your point being?”

“Yeah, man. What’s this about?” Mike asked, confused.

“This place is huge!” The curly haired boy yelled, throwing his arms out. “And you think just the three of us are going to cover it all today?”

Steve blinks, more puzzled by the question than the attitude. “Well… no. Of course not–”

“Then we should split up! Cover more ground.”

“Henderson–”

“Look, it’ll be easy. You continued this way, Mike goes left, I go right, and then–”

“Oh, my god– we are NOT splitting up!” Steve explodes, silencing him. “You can argue with me all you want, but it’s not going to happen. We are going to keep looking together, or you can march your butt straight back to the car and we’re done. Got it?!”

The boys stay quiet, Steve’s flushed face turning normal before walking away, Mike on his heels once more.

Dustin chuckles dryly under his breath. “You’re so useless…”

“What was that?” Steve perked up, slowing down again.

“You’re useless. Here I am having a solution to our problem, and you don’t want to take it.”

The eldest scoffed. “I am not useless. And only turned down your ‘solution’ because it’s too dangerous.”

“So what if it’s dangerous? This whole thing has been dangerous since the beginning!” The boy yells, throwing his hands in the air. “Will and Phanie taking a gun, a girl with real life superpowers, fake bodies, other worlds leaking into ours– this whole thing has been dangerous! So we might as well continue dipping our toes into it!”

Mike cuts in quickly after noticing the tension in the teenager’s form. “Dustin, I know you determined to find Stephanie, but maybe–”

“No, Mike! No ‘Maybes’! We should be taking risks at this point! I mean–” Dustin groans. “God!” He points at the oldest. “You’re so fucking stupid! I-I don’t know how or why my sister ever cared for you. I don’t know why she still cares for you! It’s so… fucking bizarre!”

“Dude…”

His response made Steve scoff again, trying to play it cool. “What are you even talking about? She doesn’t care about me.”

“Oh, yeah?” Dustin said, hands on his hips to look stern. “Well… news flash Harrington, she does. Even after what you did, she still gave a damn about you.”

“I…” What is he going on about? “That’s… that’s not possible.”

“Well, here then!” He digs around into his pocket, and fiercely tosses something at him. “Is that enough proof for you?” 

Steve manages to catch it before it hits him in the chest. Expecting something completely different, of course that gold chain with a red pendant catches him off guard. A gift he gave to her many years ago for her birthday… one that she still had.

She… kept this? He was so surprised he didn’t notice Dustin moving past him, beckoning for his friend to follow. Mike hesitates for a second, feeling empathy towards the older teen before he ends up leaving with his head hung low. His thumb brushes over the initials, swallowing hard as his heart clenches at the memories.

“Oh, yeah?” He shouts, turning around in their direction bitterly. “I’m still going to look for Eleven, you shitheads! And you’re going to regret going off on your own!” He doesn’t know why he half expected them to stop and turn around, but it was enough to make him cuss and go another way.

•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°

Joyce closed the car door a little more than she should have before covering her face with her trembling hands. This did… not go as planned as they thought.

“Hey…” Hopper interrupts her thoughts, softly. 

She sniffles. “What?”

“We’re gonna find him.”

“Yeah, like Terry found her daughter?”

He swallows, subtly, trying to keep it together – to be the strong one right now. “We’re close.”

She shakes her head. “B-But Tw-Twelve years? Twelve years she’s been looking for her and– oh god. Stephanie. W-We… we have to look for her too, and–”

“And then Jane shows up at Benny’s five nights ago, which means we’ve got a chance.” He inhales. “You know what I would give? For a chance? You know what I would give?”

“Hop–”

She was cut off by the sound of his walkie’s static, followed by Callahan’s voice. 

[ ‘Hey, Chief, you there? Hey, Chief?’ ]

He fishes it from his side, hitting the button. “Yeah, go ahead.”

[ ‘Yeah, a fight broke out here and–’ ]

Hopper bites his lip. “Cal, I don’t have time for this–”

[ ‘It’s Jonathan Byers.’ ]

Well that stopped him from hanging up. Him and Joyce both froze and looked at each other with confusion. 

[ ‘Uh, you haven’t seen Joyce, have you?’ ]

•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°

After shouting her name for a while, Mike nervously decided to ask, “Don’t you think that was a bit harsh?”

“What?” Dustin glances at him. “Do you think it was?”

“Uh… yeah.” He shrugs. “A little.”

“Well, I don’t.”

“Dude–” Mike stops them both. “Listen, I get it. You’re upset ‘cause he hurt your sister. But you don’t think it’s weird he’s helping us then?”

Dustin tilts his head, confused. “What do you mean?”

“Well…” How does he put this? “I mean, have you ever wondered why he stopped being friends with your sister? Like… did he have a reason for it?”

“Mike–” The warning starts.

“Here me out.” He holds his hands up. “What if he had to? What if he didn’t want to stop being friends but he had too? I mean, if he just broke the friendship because he hated her, then why is he here helping us? Have you ever thought of that?”

Well…

Of course not. 

His eyes widened at it, at the slim possibility that there may have been a reason for all this. But just as he says his friend’s name, Mike froze at a sound.

“Do you hear that?”

“What?”

“El!” Mike looks around, hopefully. “El!” 

But as the leaves kept rustling around, the sound getting closer, he had waited for the girl to come out from behind the trees and…

Totally not a pissed off Troy and James.

“Hey, there, Frogface.” Troy hissed, popping open his switchblade.

“Toothless.” James grinned maliciously. 

“Shit!” Dustin screams, hitting his friend in the arm to make him go. “Run, Mike! Run! Come on!”

The bullies take off after them yelling, “You’re dead, Wheeler. You’re dead, Henderson! DEAD!!”

•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°

Meanwhile, back at the police station, Nancy was waiting impatiently (Both wanting to leave, and wanting the front desk lady take forever to make an ice pack).

“Do you think we’ll be out of here soon?” She finally asked.

“You, yes. Him, no. He assaulted a police officer.” Flo explained, her reply was unsatisfying.

“Well, how long are you gonna keep him?”

“You and your boyfriend have big plans, do you?”

Nancy shakes her head and laughs. “He’s not my boyfriend.”

Flo gives her a look. “I think you better tell him that.”

“What?”

“Only love makes you that crazy, sweetheart.” Flo hands her the homemade ice pack. “And that damn stupid.”

When she leaves the words lingered in her head more than she thought they would have. She has a boyfriend for Christ’s sake! They shouldn’t be making her think too much about her and Jonathan’s relationship…

Right?

“Found some ice.” Nancy says, as she walks up to where he’s sitting – handcuffed to one of the officer’s desks. She smiles, trying to hide the thoughts as he locks eyes with her.

“Thanks.” He says, leaning into the ice pack as she holds up to his bruised side. It doesn’t take a genius to know that something was bothering her, prompting him to ask, “Everything okay?”

“Yeah.” She reassures him, reassures herself. “Everything’s fine.”

•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°

|| THE OTHER SIDE ||

“Everything okay?” Will asks, as he finishes loading the last of the ammo up when Stephanie reenters the building.

“Yeah. Everything’s fine.” She says, nodding. “Alright, the wire is set around the building. Whatever direction the Demogorgon comes from we’ll know. That should give us a good starting point towards a gate.”

“Right.” Just as he said that, their little decoy light flickered on and off rather quickly. They locked eyes with each other, the girl mouthing, ‘Be Ready.’

“I’m going to check a trap real quick.” Steph says the code word, before disappearing.

“Sounds good.” Will takes a deep breath, reminding himself to stay strong and not stray from their plan. We got this. We got this. It’s going to work, and we’re going home.

He turns away from the open space of the room, facing the wall. His eyes trail to the shotgun hidden by his feet, the light flickering again, telling him to start kneeling to the floor. He felt the hair on the back of his neck stick up, a low growl from somewhere behind him as he acts like he’s fixing the light to stay on. He felt the presence move closer and closer, he could hear the boney fingers cracking open, its face slowly doing the same. Just when he notices the shadow looming overing him, he shouts,

“STEPHANIE!”

The girl suddenly comes out of her hiding spot and slashes the nearest hand clean off. A shriek erupted from the beast, and just before it could retaliate, Will took a shot with the gun – officially starting their trap. Will took shot after shot, while Steph swung the axe into places she could get, ultimately backing the beast into some wiring, evidently knocking it over temporarily. 

“Let’s go!” She shouted, and they were off on a run… and soon was the Demogorgon. 

Just like they had practiced, they ran across the stepping stones with ease, heading for the stairs as the beast bathed itself in a concoction of liquid death. About a quarter of the way up, she swung the axe high and skillfully hacked some rope in half, her and Will covering their heads with their elbows to protect themselves from the raining shards of glass and nail from the tarp they put up. The Demogorgon shrills again and tries to navigate through the sharp storm.

Will takes a good look back at the girl and asks, “You ready?”

“Yep. Let’s finish this.” She replies, getting a nod and a flash of determination as they continue to run all the way to the top. 

The Demogorgon was met with Molotov cocktail after Molotov cocktail, courtesy of the Byers boy, bidding enough time for Steph to slip by to the other side of the tower without falling. With the rope in her hand, she signals the boy she’s done, and switches roles with him. Dropping the axe and taking the hand gun from her side and starts firing. Will takes this chance to move away, grabbing the other end of the rope and begin entangling it.

Their plan was to trip it over the edge, falling back below to the toxic pool – but I guess cutting off its hand seemed to fuel its rage as the tripping technique doesn’t seem to be effecting it like they hope. The Demogoron thrashed its good arm around, managing to nick Will in the bicep.

“Will!” Steph shouts, her worries making her loosen her grip. She almost gets sliced as well, having just enough to react and jump backwards. The rope slips from her hands, her body stumbling into the wall, the beast taking an opportunity to charge. She scramblings out of the way, running to the other corner to scoop up the shotgun they placed there, and fires away.

“Stephanie!” Will yells, scaredly. No. This wasn’t the plan. They need to get that thing to fall or they can’t finish it off. But how? Their tripping plan didn’t work? Come on, come on, come on! Think! What else?

His eyes frantically looked around, they had weapons, they had rope, what else? And that’s when he finally noticed it. 

The bell! He mentally gasps, getting an idea. “Stephanie!!” He shouts her name, and starts running to scoop up the discarded axe. “Get as close to the edge as you can!!”

Steph didn’t question it, knowing she didn’t have many options left in store. She starts aiming directly at the face, hoping her shots make it as she stands her ground. If she gets hurt by the Demogorgon, she gets hurt. Trusting her little partner in crime, she kept pelting it until she noticed where its footing was, and took another shot in its mouth. Then, using all the strength she could, she uses the butt of the gun to strike it, its heels dipping right over the edge–

Will lets out a yell of frustration as he swings the axe right into the rope that was holding the bell up. Snapping and dropping almost immediately, it manages to clip the Demogorgon, sending it free falling to the floor. It screams all the way down, the two of them meeting to look at their results. The pair watches as the beast tries clawing the broken bell of its lower half – splashing the alcohol and gasoline around, re-bathing itself in it.

Without muttering a word to one another, Stephanie digs out a lighter, switching it on; No hesitation as she lets it slip out of her fingers. The impact of the lighter caused the place to shake a little, the heat from the flames were so intense that she ended up shielding the boy’s face when it landed. 

Its scream turned up by a hundred as they made it down the stairs, carefully avoiding the flames until they came to a safe spot. Sure enough, the Demogorgon was definitely Barbequing now. They could smell the burnt flesh, its discolored blood spilling out, and becoming weaker and weaker, all as they watched with disgust on their faces.

Fill with unexplained rage, Stephanie, who had one last load in the chamber, takes a step forward. Then another… then another… then another, the flames itching to get her too. The Demogorgon’s hand flopped around on the ground in its poor attempts to get her, its mouth opening for one last weak scream–

She sticks the short barrel in the center of it, the shells doing its job as the trigger pops. 

Droplets doused her face, letting the gun fall along with its head, the creature officially not moving anymore.

Now they’re outside, the flames still could be seen through the murky stained glass window. The two of them just stared at it, dirty clothes and tired eyes, stomach grumbling from their worked up appetite. However, they weren’t done just yet.

“Just in case?” Will broke the ice first, looking at her with a blank expression that she returns.

“Just in case.” She repeats, before fishing out another lighter. “Care to do the honors?”

He takes it with his bruised hand, flickering it on and watching it for a second before throwing it at the foot of the building. The line of gasoline they poured around it erupted like fireworks, like…

Like it was their grand finale. A big old ‘Fuck You’ to this shitty place.

But despite the wave of emotions, the one of disgust, then nothingness… It soon ended with them laughing and crying of pure relief that they could finally breathe in a place like this.

•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°

Steve was this close to picking a fight with a freaking oak tree. He knew he shouldn’t get mad, I mean… Dustin did have a point about splitting up, but he knew he couldn’t risk that. He saw whomever these people were not afraid to get their hands dirty, and couldn’t risk anything happening to these kids but…

Jesus.

Dustin was really pissing him off. But he also wasn’t pissed off? The necklace he threw at him, the very one he gifted to the older Henderson all those years ago, the one he was for sure had been thrown in the trash at this point, was now in the palm of his hand, was fucking taunting him now?! I mean, Steve kept a box of things that he got on his and Steph’s adventures, but that was him. He thought after breaking her heart at school, he was sure that she would have trashed everything he’s given her over the years.

I guess he was wrong about that.

He rubbed his face with his hands, biting his lip as guilt started creeping back. It was guilt about their friendship, but there was also some that came from the boys he decided to freaking abandon moments ago.

Abandon. He just abandoned those kids because he was mad! Them being assholes or not, he should’ve been the grown up here and stood his ground despite if it meant potentially strangling Henderson. I mean what if something happens to them? How the hell would he explain that to their parents?

He completely stops, mentally slapping himself. “God. What the fuck am I thinking?”

Just as Steve was about to turn around and go looking, he heard something. He carefully looks around, starting to think he imagines it until he swears there was a person like shadow casting out from behind a nearby tree.

“Eleven?” He takes a hopeful small step forward. “I know that’s you. I can see your shadow.” That statement was enough to confirm it when the shadow moved slightly and the leaves rustled quietly. “Hey, can you come out? I just want to talk.”

But what did he expect? Just for her to come out and run into his arms? No. Of course not. However she was right there, just four steps ahead, and he’s not losing her this time.

“Listen, I’m not mad, okay? And I’m not just saying that so you can come out. I mean it. And…” How does he word this? “I don’t know why you chose to mess up the compass, you clearly had a reason, a reason I kind of agree with Wheeler, I think you wanted to protect us. Why? From? I don’t know, but I want to know. You have to tell me, you have to tell us.”

Please say something. Or move a bit so I know you’re acknowledging me. But neither of that happens, so he keeps going.

“I promise you, none of us are going to be angry. But you have to understand, time is of the essence right now, we have to find Stephanie, we have to find Will. So…” He knows his voice trembled at the end, but who cares. Maybe the honesty will help his case. “Please. Will you come out? Come out and talk to me? Please, Eleven?”

It’s so quiet you could hear a pin drop. Or in this case…

Screaming.

Steve’s head snapped in the direction of where he just came from, the familiarity of the screams made his stomach drop.

“Shit.” He mutters, looking one last time at the tree before taking off, hoping he isn’t too late for whatever reason they’re screaming for. Him running away was the missing chance of him seeing the girl’s gaze on him with a frightful face, wondering too what is happening to her friends.

•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°

The boys were running out of steam fast. It didn’t take long until their bullies had surrounded them, just off a trail that wraps around the whole quarry. With their stomach turning, and their hearts pounding in their ears, they scooped up any “weapons” they could find for defense.

“Stay back! Don’t come any closer!” Mike said, before chucking a rock at James.

The bully laughed at the terrible aim. “Nice throw, numbnuts.”

Dustin, in one last attempt to fight them off, comes full swinging at Troy with his stick – a complete fail too. Now, he was struggling to break free from his hold, as the switchblade was placed just under his chin, causing him to freak out.

“Let him go!” Mike yells, urgently. “Let him go!”

“Stay back, or I cut him!” Troy snaps.

“What do you want?!”

“I want to know how you did it!”

“How I did what?”

“I know you did something to me. Some nerdy science shit to make me do that!”

Mike almost rolled his eyes at the statement. “You mean piss your pants?”

Dustin, being Dustin, replies with, “Our friend has superpowers, and she squeezed your tiny bladder with her mind.”

“Shut up!” Troy grits his teeth, bringing the blade closer to his face. “I think I should save Toothless here a trip to the dentist. Help him lose the rest of his baby teeth.”

“Let him go.” Mike says again. “Let him go!”

“I’ll let him go, sure. But first... it’s your turn.”

“My turn for what?”

“Wet yourself.”

“What?”

“Jump…” Troy’s eyes gesture to the open water below. “Or Toothless here gets an early trip to the dentist.”

“NO!!” Dustin shouts, shaking his head, trying to wiggle out of the hold. “Stop! No! No!”

“Or I’ll cut him right now!” He continues, the blade now resting right on his lips, causing his hostage to whimper.

Mike shook with anger, but he had no choice. He didn’t want to be the cause of his friend getting hurt. “All right, just hold on!” He says, looking between the bullies as he starts walking away. “Hold on!”

“Mike, don’t do it. I don’t need my baby teeth, Mike! Mike, seriously, don’t!” His friend pleas, but he’s not listening as he gets closer and closer to the edge, stopping just as his toes went past the line.

With his big brown eyes he looks down at the blue water and wonders what hitting that would feel like. The fall was what? 50 feet? 70? Maybe a hundred? Would he even survive this? Would he never see any of his friends or family again? He hears Dustin pleading with him once more, and almost takes a step back, a step back to maybe striking up a deal with Troy; But would he even listen? Maybe jumping really was the only option here, so…

“Troy, I don’t think this is a good idea, man.” James says, a bit scared at the idea, yet his friend blows him off.

“Mike, don’t!” Dustin screams, as Mike takes a deep breath and starts closing his eyes, bracing himself for whatever awaits him below.

“Dentist’s office opens in five–”

This is for Dustin.

“Four!”

I’m sorry everyone.

“Three!”

Say Hi to Will and Steph for me.

“Two!”

Dustin yells his name.

“One!”

Just as Mike lets his foot slip down for the descent he felt himself get yanked backwards by his collar…

Someone else using the momentum to take his place.

He had enough time to stop himself from tumbling to see him plummeting into the Quarry.

“STEVE!!” Mike yells at the top of his lungs, everyone else staring in shock before running over to the edge. Now, everyone present expected to find the teenager’s body crashing into the water, or hear some kind of scream on the way down, yet instead…

They see the teenager panicking at how he found himself stopping in mid air like he could suddenly fly.

“Holy shit.” Dustin said, blue orbs blown wide just seconds before Steve started floating back towards them.

“Whoa, whoa, whoa, whoa, whoa!” The Harrington spewed, limbs frantically moving. He continued his descent up and up, right over the four boys and landing semi-gently on the ground.

“Steve?!” Mike said, surprised (and relief blooming onto his face).

He shot straight up in the sitting position, his hair a mess, his eyes big like saucers, his heart pounding like a never ending drum. What the heck just happened? “How the hell did I…?”

And right on cue, like you could hear boss music play as Eleven was storming over, her red wig gone and dirtied face full of rage. She quickly blew James off his feet, and snapped Troy’s arm like a twig. The boy cried and El told them to go. The two bullies waste no time to leave, their tails tucked between their legs as Dustin eggs them on.

“Yeah, that’s right! You better run!” He yells, a shit eating grin blooming onto his face. “She’s our friend and she’s crazy! You come back here and she’ll kill you! You hear me? She’ll kill you, you sons of bitches. She’ll kill you!”

“You think she would?” Mike asked, half rhetorical, half serious. 

He shrugs. “I don’t know. Maybe? I was just saying that to scare them.”

“I wouldn’t let that get that far, alright?” Steve says, looking at them with amusement also. “You guys okay?”

“Okay?” Mike says, helping him get up. “Dude, you took my place!”

“Yeah, well, I would do it again if I–” He trails off, just as he notices Eleven’s knees buckling. “Hey– Hey! Eleven!” The boys rush over to the unconscious girl. “Eleven?”

“Is she okay? Why did she faint?”

“She might have overdid it. Eleven? Hey? Can you hear us? El?”

Eventually, She cracks her lids open slowly, finding all the boys hovering over her like she was made of glass. Glass. They shouldn’t be looking at her like that. Not after everything she’s done.

“El, are you okay? El?” Mike said, worriedly.

“Mike...” She sobbed, lip quivering. “I’m sorry.”

“Sorry? What are you sorry for?”

“The gate… I opened it. I’m the monster.”

“No.” He shakes his head. “No, El, you’re not the monster.”

“You saved us.” Steve said, with a smile. “You saved me. Do you understand? You saved me. Whatever you did in the past, that’s all said and done. All that matters now is what you do in the future. Okay?”

“Okay…” She sniffles and nods. “Okay.”

“Okay.” His expression grows as he sits her up. “Come here.” 

She allows herself to grab a hold of him, burying her head in his chest for a sense of comfort. Steve keeps her close, relieved that she’s here, relieved that she’s fine, relieved that she saved their lives. Whatever she’d done is done, now they must move forward and save their loved ones. But for now, they were allowed this one sentimental moment. He soon felt Mike wrapped his arms around them, just before Dustin did it too. 

Steve locks eyes with him, Dustin sharing a small smile while mouthing the words ‘Thank You’. Probably for the fact that he swapped places with Mike (Or was there something else beside that?). Whatever it was, Steve copies his expression before ruffling the top of his hat before continuing with the hug.

Meanwhile, in another part of the forest, Lucas found himself hidden in a tree, watching with his binoculars as he spotted the suspiciously familiar vans behind the fence. It took him a moment to realize where he saw those vans. Realizing that he saw one parked outside his house when he left a while ago, he put two and two together right before this situation got worse. He watches as Men in uniform stroll out of the lab, guns in hand and pouring into the vehicles that made their way into the main roads.

His eyes widened and his heart skipped a beat.

“Oh, fuck.”

(TBC)

A/N: Only three more chapters to go for this season! This next one should be a "fun" ride for you all 😈

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