#even though we’re trauma bonded

[mer-se]

Whatta long night and day todays been ooof

[poebrey]

gonna write a whole thing someday about how characters of color who clearly have a history of trauma or mental health issues aren’t given consideration or acknowledgement in the fandom imagination

[iwaasfairy]

┌─ “ ! „ HEARTBEAT

tw. pseudocest, noncon, possessiveness, grooming?, age gap, blood, murder, a lot of trauma bonding

wordcount. 6k

a/n. thank yoUUUU rhi for betaing you are my favorite as alwaysssss I love you soooo much ♡♡

okkotsu yuuta x fem!reader

Blood is splattered on the ground of the dirty alley, and there’s another heavy thump when his kick once again lands on the kid’s skull and he moans in pain. He calls him a kid in his head because he’s got that shit-faced little attitude, and now an ugly gap where his front teeth used to sit, but he should be old enough to know better. As a couple passes by the narrow street, he shields things from view a little, before using the long edge of his sheathed sword to push the dumb, bloody face to the side. Because his eyes are starting to look like two overripe tomatoes from the impact, he couches down before the sandy brunet.

“You know what this is about?” Yuuta’s voice is hoarse. He hadn’t really noticed it before, but it’s been a busy week cleaning up your messes. Don’t get him wrong, he doesn’t mind. If anything, it makes him feel sort of useful. You’re good and kind and don’t get into trouble on purpose — which is why he’s here late at night making sure things get handled. Niisan’s got it, after all. He doesn’t bother to clear his voice. “Hey.”

“Take my cash,” the young man below him now whistles through the missing teeth, teary eyes darting around as he pats his hand all over himself to look for a wallet.

Yuuta scoffs. “I don’t want your money. If I did, you think I’d waste my time beating your face in like you had it coming?” The anxious, almost nervous lilt to his own voice doesn’t escape him. If you could see him now, you’d probably say that he was enjoying this too much - and while he is, the idea of this getting back to you doesn’t escape his mind. It won’t though, logically speaking. The kid probably wouldn’t be able to see straight for a couple hours, and you will never find out. “I want to know why you’re hanging around Rika’s kid sister.”

“Kid? W- I don’t know any Rika!” He yelps when he tries to lift his head and gets the handle of the weapon hit hard onto the bridge of his nose again, adding more blood to the mess that’s running all over the bottom of his face. Yuuta really can’t see it, lifting his top lip in slight disgust. Handsome, where? Just as much as this boy isn’t really a kid anymore, neither are you. But you’re younger, and deserving of protection — is it really so bad he wants to imagine you as his baby sister for a bit longer before you start trying to escape from under his wings?

Not that you’re going to go anywhere.

“I don’t know a Rika,” the blond whines again now, hiding his face into his hands to drool and hiccup against the cold floor.

“Orimoto Rika, has a kid sister.” Yuuta bites back, patience running really thin.

“O-I- I kn- oh, we’re in the same uni prep class!” He gets up to close his eyes and focus all his attention on not just kicking against his skull until the answers fall out. He knows that, how else would he even know to ask? The head damage takes it a few seconds to make the guy continue, sniffling. “We’re friends- or- my friend knew her. I liked her so we hung out a few times.” Yuuta’s hand is cold around the worn handle.

He takes a slow breath, watches the cloud of air as he lets it out. The promise ring glints in the light of the street, and it’s all familiarity and instinct that makes him brush his thumb over it. “Were you serious with her? Or did you tell her whatever so you could fuck her? Hm? Did you fuck my little sister?” The brunet snivels and whines under him when his foot lands back right before his face, demanding attention.

“I won’t talk to her anymore, I swear! I swear I w-won’t even - it’ll be like I never existed. Please.” The pitiful whining he’s doing, groveling like a dog below him - sort of reminds him of a younger him. Someone who didn’t have a purpose yet, and was scared of everything for it. The heavy weight of the ring clings to his hand when he lifts it to unsheath the katana, seeming to wrap a comforting palm around his own. If he could, he'd tangle fingers with her.

“P-please, let me go home! I didn’t do- I wouldn’t touch your s-sister, I didn’t know.”

“I hate guys who aren’t serious with her.” He clicks his tongue, and has to spit out the nasty taste that this entire situation leaves on his tongue. The weight of the sword is barely an inconvenience when both hands wrap around the handle properly. He’s doing this for Rika and him. Always. “She deserves so much better.” A mean flash of possession crosses his thoughts - how no one except him will ever be good enough. But he pushes it back, because that has nothing to do with why he’s doing this. Nothing.

+

“Yuuta~” Her voice haunts when he closes his eyes.

He’s in the sandpit of the Children’s hospital, rocking back and forth softly on the edge of it as he waits. The sun makes the sand nice and toasty, it warms his feet when he plants them down. “Yuuta!” It’s instinctive, when he looks up at the familiar voice. Rika’s hair travels in a perfect arc behind her when she runs to make it catch the light like a halo. Pretty blue dress making the shine of her hair even brighter, cheeks rosy, and her eyes glittering diamonds when they find his and she crashes down next to him. Her scraped knee is proof that it’s too hard, but he can’t help but smile when her cheek touches his arm on the landing.

Something hits the floor with a loud thump.

Yuuta turns over his shoulder to watch. There’s a smaller child that’s chin down on the earth behind them two, thick crocodile tears threatening to spill when Rika gasps. “Rika neechan~ Wait.” You pout, straightening up quicker than you should to reach your hands out to her. The girl hurries over to dust your cheeks off and drag you along behind her. It’s such a nice day out, Yuuta’s sweater is just thick enough to make his entire body warm. He stares at your face a little too long, before glancing between you two.

You’re still rounder than she is, but it’s undeniably eerie. “Your sister?” He asks softly, and Rika grins wide. She gently maneuvers you by the hand to sit next to her, then pulls you into a hug.

Her lips are pretty pink when she licks them. “This is Yuuta. Say ‘hi Yuuta’.” You parrot your sister obediently, as she waves your hand around at him. “Me and Yuuta are going to get married. So you should be very nice to him, okay?” Her sweet cheeks are the exact same as yours, long lashes and big, knowing eyes that always have him staring. You just look absentmindedly at the grass when Rika holds you into her side, but nod.

He smiles softly when your big eyes find his again. And Rika giggles. “And she’s gonna be your sister one day, so you gotta protect her well. We’re gonna be one happy family, promise?” She extends her arm to hold out a pinky finger at him. “That’s what I want.”

+

His fingers are pressing indents into your arm. It’s unusual. Yuuta’s always gentle, he’s soft and cares, but today his hand is screwed almost protectively tight around your upper arm, and you can’t say that you hate the feeling. Maybe childishly, you want him to squeeze even harder - so you’ll have no reason to get out.

You don’t come here a lot. Not since the accident tore open the painful scarred memory of it, but even before then, it wasn’t exactly your favorite place. It’s at Yuuta’s gentle prompting that you even managed to dress, and now walk however slowly between the low stone walls. The rain taps impatiently on the umbrella above, as the older boy casts you a careful glance. Then slowly bends to sit on his ankles, and grabs your hand ever so softly, meeting your eyes. His hands, though big enough to dwarf yours now, are almost velvety when they clasp around yours. It feels like he’s exponentially grown, while you’ve stayed pretty much the same.

Partly the illness. Mostly the age.

“Think you can go on?” he softly asks, kind eyes sympathetically regarding you. Like he’s making a judgment call about whether to turn back after all - debating the long walk back to the hospital. “I’ll be right here with you.”

“You’ve already gone before, haven’t you?” Your voice sounds a bit accusatory, a bit pouty too. Can’t be helped. Yuuta could be a living saint and you’d still find it hard. He clearly doesn’t take it to heart, because he smiles. His one hand then moves up to ruffle your hair.

“It’s still hard for me too, though,” his lips quirk up in an almost smile, but you can tell he doesn’t mean it. It’s sort of comforting to know that even someone like him feels it. Of course he would. Your neesan was family, but Yuuta probably knew her better than you ever could. He was beside her when she got out the two times, and was waiting when she had to get re-admitted. He was there when she got hit— there’s a comforting brush of your cheek when he stands back up and the umbrella gets so much higher. Yuuta blinks. “Come. I think you can do it.”

Your chubby cheeks flood with warmth, as you take his fingers into your hands with a nod. “Okay.”

It’s like this that you wind up at the headstone, stepping through dredged earth that’s been walked on too much. It seems to cling to the bottoms of your shoes with intent - you squeeze Yuuta nii’s hand tighter at the sight of the family grave. It now holds three of your kin in a warm embrace under the several bouquets of wilting flowers, and however morbidly, you think that maybe you’ll be joining soon. You’re young, but it’s not lost on you when the nurses send each other pitying looks.

“Is this where neesan’s buried?” Your voice sounds pinched and small, and sort of pathetic. You imagine Yuuta nii cried when he came to the funeral, but he wouldn’t have whined. You’re whining. You don’t want Yuuta to get fed up with you. Not when he’s the last semblance of ‘family’ you have left. After a while of staring blankly at the stone, he nods, and turns over his shoulder to smile at you again, pulling you a little closer to him. Your arms loop around his waist, staring down at the pretty whites that shake under the rain. “Is this where I’ll be buried when I die?”

He freezes. You feel bad about the double take he does when his spine goes more straight, rigid limbs dropping by his side as a deep, uncomfortable breath makes its way out. Your hands wring together instead.

However long it takes for him to unlock his limbs is however long you breathe through your tears as they well up stubbornly along your lash line, before your head is pulled to his ribs into an embrace. He swallows back emotion himself. “That’s not- I’m not going to let anything happen to you. I promise. I promise.”

“I’m sick-”

“No.” His eyes glint with something silvery when he takes your face between both hands and lets your childishness wash over him, clenching his jaw. “What happened to Rika was an accident- I- I couldn’t do anything then. But nothing’s going to happen to you as long as I’m here. I need- you to believe me.”

You don’t flinch when he uses your cheek to turn your face his way, but the urge still sits. His eyes study your face too intently, like he’s looking for something he can’t quite find. “I promised that I’d be a niichan that protects you.”

Rain splatters into a million glistening flecks as it meets the headstone.

“Okay,” you say.

It isn’t lost on you that his jaw is set too tight as he drags you back by the hand towards his bike, fist clenched around the umbrella. He breathes a tiny, ‘Later, Rika’ before turning on his heel. You don’t manage the same. Your voice gets stuck in your throat, even when he helps you up onto the bike rack in the back, pulling your face into his chest too tight- squeezes you to mold against him. He smells nice for a teen boy. The kiss he leaves on your crown is gentle, and leaves a soft warmth on your skin — You doubt it is really meant for you.

+

The door pushes open as you’re putting clips into your bangs, tongue trapped between your teeth. You cast Yuuta a glance through the mirror when he lingers at the door, and try to smile. “I’m almost ready.” You’re no longer too keen on fighting, the longer the silent treatment drags on. After a while of watching you with his arms crossed over his chest — he walks over to your bed to plop himself down and lets himself fall backward.

“I’m sorry,” the noiret sighs at nothing in particular, as you put on a necklace and after debating for a second, some perfume. The noise makes Yuuta look, studying you when you turn. It’s easy to forget sometimes that Yuuta didn’t have to stay with you, and he sure as hell didn’t have to give up a lot of his youth to take care of you like he does. Like your other family refuses to do when all the cards are on the table. He catches your stare. “You know I love you. I… worry when you’re not right here where I can see you. We stick together.”

“I know.” Your smile only barely makes your lips move, but you do mean it. You just wish realizations like this didn’t always have to come at the cost of fighting. “For what it’s worth, I’ll probably always forgive you.” You try to laugh, and brush your hair out of your eyes a final time before grabbing your bag. “I’m only going to be out for a few hours, max.”

Yuuta frowns when he sits up. His dark hair is brushed out of his face, damp and soft from the shower. “You’re still going?”

You blank. “Yeah, Himari and Shota are waiting for me. We’re going to see a movie.” He only has to let his eyes travel over your body and clothing once, for you to read what he’s thinking. You yank the edge of your skirt a bit lower, and pull your shoulders up. “What, what?! I can’t go out looking like this? It’s basically the same length as my uniform, what’s wrong with that?!”

“I didn’t say anything,” he breathes back, empty eyes regarding you with a static sort of- indifference, you guess.

“You don’t have to, niichan! God!” You turn to walk out the room, but Yuuta grabs your wrist when you pass by the bed. Sat down like he is, eyes tracing you like a lion- Yuuta no longer looks like the boy that used to draw stars on the ceiling of your hospital room for your amusement. Your cheeks heat when he basically glares straight at you for your attitude, and mulls the answer around in his mouth. Your anger subsides as you take a breath. This is the guy who makes you fresh apple juice in the morning, and calls you up between shifts. Because he cares. He just cares.

“Can I please go, Yuuta nii?”

After a few seconds, he clicks his tongue, staring at the edge of your skirt before tugging at it too, barely hiding a frown you can see dig between his brows. “You know I don’t like that Shota kid?”

Your lips jut out. “Yeah…” It’s getting awfully close to time to leave. You take a step back just to get his hands away from you. It’s distracting, and this is your brother you’re dealing with. “But he’s really nice. He started high school already but he used to be in my class the last three years, so… so you don’t have to worry. He knows I can’t do everything because I’m sick and he says—”

“Yeah, I���m sure he says everything you want to hear… You’re smarter than this. You don’t actually believe that.”

“He’s my friend.” A friend that makes your heart beat a bit faster when he smiles at you, but what’s it to him? “He doesn’t lie.”

Yuuta grimaces when you stare him down. “Don’t tell me about teenage boys, I used to be one.” He bristles before sitting up straighter, and though he’s technically below you, you still feel his energy tower as those big, dark eyes stay on your face. “Are you really ‘going to see a movie’? Or are you just going to sit in a boy’s room all night while I’m worried sick-”

You’re about ready to walk out, but his fingers are still looped around your wrist. “We are going to the movies! Himari and I! Just because a boy is there- ugh! Niichan, don’t make it weird!” The heat burns higher on your cheeks when you ball your fists, ignoring the pressure behind your eyes. This is so embarrassing. “I want to go.”

It’s quiet for much too long, making goosebumps appear all over your exposed skin. Then he breathes. “Come here.” His voice has more of an edge than it used to. You used to like the way your name fell from his lips. You’re not so sure you do anymore. Instead of storming out and forgetting all about him, you stare back at the sharpness in his eyes. When he pats his lap with familiarity, you jerk a brow. But you sit. His breath brushes along your neck too softly where he’s seated. It tickles on the way down.

It almost feels like… like he could wrap his hands around your neck and squeeze until you stopped struggling.

Yuuta nii wouldn’t do that. He wouldn’t.

Fingers come to your necklace, undoing it, and it drops into your lap on the pretty, blue skirt. It’s suddenly much too cold in the room, and you resist the urge to wrap your arms around yourself. It’s fine. You’re fine. Yuuta is family.

Still the untouched skin of your neck feels too exposed.

If he notices your rigid posture, he doesn’t bother fixing it. Just reaches, then pushes your head forward. The childishly familiar pink, bedazzled heart he holds up instead glints, swaying from where you left it on your side table for the night. “You get back at 9,” his lower voice sounds, “or else I’m driving out to wherever you are and dragging you back to my car.” When you don’t say anything in response, he brushes away your hair from your shoulders.

“Yuuta nii,” you start, clamming up when he drapes the dainty thing around your throat and does the closure for you. “I wasn’t going to wear that one tonight.” You don’t always want to wear whatever Rika left behind until infinity.

“I think you will,” he breathes back, and kisses your exposed shoulder. It’s less sweet, more something to punctuate his statement. If he wasn’t so familiar and soft, you’d immediately fight against the way his strong arms wind around your waist to anchor you in his lap. “Just wear it.” His hands stay against your skin, long after he’s finished. Too long, and after seconds of sitting in the tense silence, you jerk up off his lap to grab your discarded bag from the floor. The other necklace drops to the carpet somewhere, but you don’t care.

“Fine,” you bring out tightly, before giving him a last look. Your bottom lip trembles a slight bit, so you suck it into your mouth to make it stop. And tears sting at the corners despite yourself. “Later, then.”

“Tell Himari that niichan says hello. It’s been so long since she’s been here.” He gets up from your bed too, and you resist the urge to rush out the room before him when he steps around you. You can’t fight the feeling that somehow… you were just caught in your lie. Your phone beeps in your bag, as Yuuta nii disappears around the corner. Shota, probably.

+

Blood. The door creaks, swings against the wind.

Dead.

You hope he’s dead. Blood pools at the center of the showers, sinks down the drain too slowly. It sticks to the pretty porcelain tiles of the old school locker room before the water gurgles it down.

They’re dead.

You don’t have to question it before it’s confirmed. Before the heavy, silver cleaver is lodged into the side of the already ruined skull. All of them. All of the boys of the soccer team seem to be present, though you don’t want to try and count. Counting makes it real. This shouldn’t be. The heavy thump makes way for a gross squelch when he yanks the metal out, and keeps the body down with his foot.

The spatters on his face are still wet. You can’t help the way your voice comes out when you breathe in deep and try to keep the tears from spilling over. The cleaver’s red and sticky and so is his hand, up to his forearm, his forehead from wiping his hair away. All of it, ruined.

“Y-yuuta nii?”

The metal door of the locker slams closed with the wind and hits you in the back, sending you skittering forward a few steps before you force the air out of your lungs with a stuttered pant.

With a soft smile, he turns over his shoulder. “Shhh.” The blood’s crusted under his nails when he presses a finger to his lips, then waves you closer. “Help niichan out?” His eyes glint over, before his smile goes a little wider, and he whips the blood off the weapon onto the ground. “S’ your fault I had to do this after all. We can clean up together. Hm?”

Your breathing is so shallow that you can feel your heartbeat in between your ears. You aren’t sure why you nod. The guilt tastes bitter on the way down.

+

Rika was dead on impact. She didn’t have a chance, even after she fought so vehemently against what took your mom. You know that. Even if she didn’t get struck by misfortune then, she might’ve not lived past her teens.

Yuuta doesn’t seem to know. He also doesn't seem to consider the same for you either— letting you toy with the edge of his shirt where you’re curled into him in your too-small bed. The hospital wants you back for another check-up.

It’s true that you’ve already outlived your sister, but that doesn’t mean it’ll last forever. Yuuta nii doesn’t want to hear it. As he brushes your hair with his fingers, you scratch the arm where the IV’s always get attached with an absent minded pout. Until Yuuta notices, pouting down at you. “Are you still feeling dizzy? I can make you some green tea if you’ll let go of me for a few minutes. Lots of honey like you like.” You quickly shake your head.

To him this is final, the worst you’ll ever get, and in reality that’s probably not the case. You don’t tell him though. His deep eyes stay on you a little too long. “What’s wrong?”

Sometimes you wake up and can’t open your eyes past a blurry sliver, your head tight enough to make your skull feel like it’s caving in. Times where you have to clasp your stomach painfully tight to hold yourself together — stumbling in tears into Yuuta’s room. Like you’ll disintegrate in his arms unless you lock him around yourself. This isn’t as bad, but you still feel bad.

Feverish and cold all at once, achy where your stomach goes up and down. You can’t mention the possibility of having to go back into urgent care without aniiki spiraling, so you keep your mouth shut. “I don’t like green tea,” you guiltily admit instead, and stare up at him when he holds a few knuckles to your head, studying you.

His expression scrutinizes you a little tighter, before he pets over your crown. He presses a soft kiss onto your lips. It’s Rika that loved it, you want to say, but for some reason you can’t make the words come out. He sighs, slightly put out, but then nods. “If you’re feeling better later, maybe you can help Yuuta nii with the curry. Okay?”

“Mhm,” you smile up at him, and you can see how the muscles in his jaw unclench.

His soft hands cup your face intently, staring down at you too intently. It starts sweet, until the feeling of his breath dust over your face and you watch as he flicks his eyes all over you. “You look so much like her. I can tell now that you’re getting older though,” his thumb smoothes over your soft cheek. “We should see if there’s something in Rika’s stuff you can still wear.”

“Won’t be able to fit it anymore, niichan.” Your voice comes out apologetic, though you don’t know why.

“Hm. You might be right.” His look goes more distant before he pulls you closer. Legs tangled, arms loosely looped around you. “You’re still smaller than me though. Luckily.” He takes a deep breath, before nuzzling his nose into your crown to breathe long and deep. His warm hands trail over yours before squeezing. “I love you, you know that? Always will.”

You stare at the wall of mementos past Yuuta’s shoulder. Suffocatingly cram packed. Her pictures. Her music poster. Her pre-teen bottle of perfume you wear only on special occasions. Your hands stop toying with the edge of his shirt to brush instead along his forearm until you meet something that isn’t skin. Yuuta’s quiet, but his breathing is slightly pinched— you don’t mean to.

You glance between you two to the plastic your finger hooks onto. The bracelet she made in the hospital care ward for Yuuta that he still wears despite the fact that the color has long peeled off of the cheap beads. “You loved neesan, right?” Your lashes almost brush when you look back at him, watch him trap his tongue between his teeth for a moment as pink sits on his cheeks. His hand wraps around yours to tangle fingers.

“I… did.”

He swallows. “She made the hospital seem a little less lonely.” The mementos seem to stare at you from across the room as he speaks, and the uncomfortable feeling in your stomach refuses to fade. If anything, it gets more painful. Tighter. “We’re going to be together forever though. And I,” he squeezes your hand, voice fading to barely a whisper, “I love you. Love you so much.”

There's a cold slid over your fingers when he moves. You allow him to slip off the band, gently, and almost as if he wants to give it to you without you noticing, his fingers slide the cursed thing onto your hand instead. His smile is gentle, makes those dark eyes look a little less pressing. “When you’re cleared from going back to the hospital, we can find me a matching one. We still have to get married, right?”

The room feels cold.

“... Okay.”

+

“Let’s kiss?”

It’s too late to be early when the shared bed gets crowded over on your side. “St- I’m going to sleep, Yuuta nii. Stop.” You don’t open your eyes to the touch, definitely not to the gentle brush of his fingers over your lips when he gets too close. Always too close- it’s suffocating. “I don’t wanna talk about it anymore.”

“Don’t be like that.” He sounds happy. He always sounds like that when it has to do with you, and it doesn’t take long for your eyes to flutter open when the thumb instead pushes into your mouth. “If we get married, this will be normal. Don’t pull back.” He pushes onto your tongue to make you hold it in your mouth all heavy and tasting of him, then leans in to push his forehead to yours. Deep, possessive eyes pinning you in place.

“You don’t want to?” It almost sounds mocking. You know you brought this on yourself. You asked to go home early, you asked to invite friends. Maybe this is payback the way big brothers give it. There’s tears that spring up anyway when his other hand slips under your shirt and he squeezes your soft belly. As the spit he wipes on your lips gets kissed away by an impatient sigh. “I’ve wanted to for such a long time. You wouldn’t ask me to wait more.”

“Yuuta nii. We’re siblings, aren’t we?” The ring glitters. Your hand is clenched into the front of his shirt as warm hands grab down your body— hands you love. Hands you trusted.

“Of course we are. That’s why I’m doing this, silly girl.” Hands that push your underwear down your round hips despite you fighting to keep them up. He giggles when you burn with embarrassment, before pressing kisses to your temple. “I love you. I love you, I love you. Who better to kiss you than big brother?” You shake your head, try to push- he doesn’t budge. Just keeps your body in place under his with his weight.

“G-get off of me, Yuuta! Stop being so weird!” You cry, pushing until he grabs your wrist and forces it down beside your head. He’s still smiling though, like he doesn’t have a care in the world. Like you’re still a child acting out. It’s that which makes you squirm more, and the glare digs into your forehead when he gets on top of you. “Stop~ I don’t want to kiss.”

Instead he laces his fingers with your ring hand, as the other patiently flutters down to rub over your pussy. You don’t want to. You don’t. Yuuta just smiles when he tilts his head to regard you, and squeezes your fingers a little tighter. “Rika-chan asked me to take care of you. Don’t get so mad.”

+

It’s getting cooler and cooler and cooler the longer he stands. Pressed in the corner of the sterile, greenish blue atmosphere with white sheets draped over your body. He takes a long, deep breath until the nurse finishes up with the checks, taking freshly drawn blood away in a vial. “You’re the guardian?”

The red stands out against your complexion as your restless sleep drifts deeper— he shifts in his seat to lace his hands together. “Her big brother, yes.”

She doesn’t bother to pretend to care when tapping her clipboard, gives a distracted smile. “The doctor will be here within the next hour, okay? Please wait here until then.”

“Yes, ma’am.” Yuuta’s quick not to let the smile quirk up onto his mouth when she’s already walking out before he finishes. As soon as the door falls into lock he gets up from the uncomfortable chair to kneel by your bedside and grasp your hand.

Soft. Small.

He hates to admit that he could spend hours here by your side; but the truth is the truth. He could, and he has. And he will, until it is no longer necessary.

Yuuta kisses your hand with a gentle smile, feeling your heartbeat thump under his lips. You mumble, he swears he can hear his name. “I’m here. Niichan’s here.” He smiles a little more when the soft fingers wrap back around his hand and he watches your expression relax even in your sleep. He can’t help it, the soft thumping against his cheek makes his entire body warm.

You’re so alive, and so close- every cell in his body yearns to be beside you. He kisses the area between your thumb and pointer in an attempt to soothe the feeling of biting down entirely. Instead he clasps your hand with two of his before standing up. “You would have loved Rika.” His mouth tingles. “She would’ve hated you- but you would have loved her. I think she would have been a bit jealous though.”

He dips to press a soft kiss onto your lips, humming softly when your warm breath dusts over his cheeks. “You’re so cute.” A few years ago, you would’ve had visitors waiting for you. “I know you were looking forward to graduation, but I’m still here for you.” He places his hands on both sides of your face to hover over you instead of pulling back, can’t keep himself from it.

“You don’t want to leave your niichan, right?” It’s not your fault that everyone else wants you to move on. He’ll take you just as you are. He has to force himself to pull back before he kisses you again, so you don’t wake just yet. You will. And you’ll cry into his chest about missing your precious graduation, and about being stuck here again, just when you were getting better. He never much wanted you in uni anyway.

From his space sat on the edge of your bed, he can easily see how the blanket squirms. How the motion curls and wiggles until he easily pulls the sheet down your chest, then your stomach.

Two beady eyes stare up at him as he brings his face a little closer. The fly head is still clinging to your stomach, hasn’t moved from where he left it. By now it’s become an accessory every few months. It’s not strong enough to kill you— just barely enough to keep you believing you’re still sick, and that’s all he really needs. You need his care, need him. He resists the urge to pick the thing up at least until he can take you back home.

Instead he nudges it up a little higher, so he can place his palm onto your belly to stroke gentle circles in its place, feeling the heat through the gown. He can feel your heart bounce all the way down your body, it’s so cute. When the little fodder curse crawls onto your chest, lids shooting open as you gasp. “Yuuta nii-” Your eyes are lined red, and as soon as they find him you start bawling.

More than happy to let him hike you up from the bed and into his arms, where you bury your face into his neck. Your hiccups are so cute. It’s easy to kiss them quiet when you don’t have enough breath to ask him to stop. He’s sure this time he could slip his tongue into your mouth and you wouldn’t say a thing.

All Rights Reserved © IWAASFAIRY 2024. Works are exclusive to this Tumblr.

[scuderiahoney]

Oscar Piastri x Reader // In Motion Pt. 4

Summary: a very bad snowstorm, bears in the ice hockey arena, and a one night only poster board pick-me-up. 6.6k words

Warnings: mentions of physical violence, small mention of alcohol

“So. You and Oscar spent a lot of time together over the break,” Lily says, carefully.

You roll your eyes and set the glue stick in your hand down, sensing this is going to be a long conversation. “We were the only ones here for like, a week. And we were bored. And then Max showed up, so it wasn’t just us.”

Lily isn’t looking at you. She has a wine glass in one hand and a magazine in the other. The two of you are making vision boards, which Max had called “glorified collages” when he called five minutes ago to ask about family dinner for tomorrow.

Lily hums. “He’s just so… quiet.”

You shrug and take a sip of your wine. “He’s not, really, once you get to know him. He’s just… it’s easier for him one on one, you know?”

Lily nods. You nod, too, and lean over to pick up another magazine. You flip through the pages, looking for whatever sticks out. Your friends collect magazines and newspapers and fun posters and give them to you, and you hoard them for days like these. A little sun drawing pops out at you from the page, and you reach for the scissors.

You clear your throat. “Nothing happened, if that’s what you were trying to say. We just. We had some movie nights, played some video games, took a couple walks. That’s all.”

Lily looks up at you and stares. “Right.”

You stare right back. “What?”

“Did you want something to happen?” She asks, and you freeze, the magazine page half turned.

“What?” You ask again.

“You said nothing happened,” she says. “Did you want something to happen?”

You stare at the wine in your glass, the way the warm light of the lamp catches on the red liquid. Your stomach swirls. Did you want something to happen? He’s your friend. Your study partner. He’s your best friends’ teammate. Did you want something to happen? He’s a sweetheart once you get to know him. He holds your hand when you walk by the soccer field and he doesn’t push you when you can’t do it. Did you want something to happen?

You shake your head. “We’re just friends. We bonded over physics trauma. We were just bored.”

Lily nods and reaches for the scissors. “Okay.”

You want to say more to defend yourself, but you think that’ll be even less convincing. So you move your focus back to the vision board and try not to think too much about what she asked you. It doesn’t matter what you wanted, anyways. He’d never see you that way, and if he did, he’s probably too scared of his teammates to do anything about it.

…..

January slips away faster than you’d expected. It’s full of syllabuses and assignments and far too much homework for this early in the semester. You do a lot of it at the kitchen table in the guys’ house, sat across from Oscar even though you’re not in a class together anymore. It’s just nice to have someone to study with, even if he has no idea what you’re talking about when you whine about your biology assignments.

February brings with it the warnings of a winter storm for the ages. On a Thursday night, you sit on the couch in the living room, giving your homework a feeble attempt. The guys are back from an afternoon practice, and everyone is settling in for the evening.

“You know who we play next week,” Carlos says, leaning over the back of the couch and looking at you.

“Can’t remember,” you answer, not even looking up from your book. “Not the Badgers.”

The Badgers are the Timberwolves’ sworn enemies. The rivalry game weekend is one of the most anticipated events on campus. It’s marked on the calendar in the kitchen with a dark red X. It’s weeks away.

“No,” Carlos says, raising his eyebrows when you finally look up at him. “The Bears.”

For just a moment, you wonder what sort of significance that’s supposed to hold. They play a lot of teams. Most of them, they’re relatively civil towards. A lot of the players grew up together on junior teams, and they’re still friends outside of game weekends. You’re about to ask if he has beef with a Bears player when you notice Oscar’s stiff posture where he sits on the floor in front of the couch. He’s been half watching the TV, half working on homework. Then you remember.

Oscar played for the Bears for two years. That was his former team. The ones who treated him so badly he quit hockey. You blink up at Carlos and pray he doesn’t take the route you think he’s going to.

“You know who used to play for the Bears,” Carlos starts, a lilting tone to his voice.

Oscar turns over his shoulder with a grimace. “Play is a strong term,” he says. “I did a lot more sitting than skating.”

Carlos shrugs and wiggles his eyebrows. “I am just saying. Maybe we should be worried that Piastri here will go easy on his friends.”

“Not my friends,” Oscar says, quietly.

You slip your hand off the couch and press it to his shoulder blade, hidden from Carlos’ view behind blankets and cushions. Oscar relaxes slightly, and his eyes flicker to yours. Carlos is just trying to rile him up, probably. There might be a hint of truth to it- trying to test Oscar’s loyalty, which is stupid.

You turn to Carlos and blink. “Don’t you have somewhere to be? Like your own apartment?”

Oscar laughs and tries to disguise it as a cough, muffling it into his elbow. Carlos grins, gaze flickering between you and Oscar, mischief in his eyes.

“Oh, Bunny has claws,” he teases.

By Sunday, everyone is panicked about the impending snow. The stores sell out of all the essentials before you can even bother to plan the week’s family dinner. You and Max will have to make do with what’s left on the bare shelves of the grocery store. The aisles are packed with people. You’ve lost Logan in the fray.

“He’ll be fine,” Max says, trying to maneuver the cart around a small child. He makes a funny face at her, and she laughs. “He will find us, and if he doesn’t…”

“Oh my god, please sound more concerned,” you say.

He shrugs and reaches for a box of Kraft Mac and cheese.

“You have to be kidding,” you say with a glare.

He nods, looking at the grocery list again. “I am. We are buying more TimTams?”

Your face grows hot against your will. You snatch the list from his hand as he eyes you, brows raised. At that exact moment, Logan, your lifesaver, appears from the crowd.

“I got so lost,” he says, eyes wide. “This place is a madhouse.”

Max nods, and he looks around, set determination on his face. “Alright. Let’s get what we need and get out. Logan, hold onto the cart.”

Logan rolls his eyes. “I’m not a child,” he says, but he grabs the cart anyways.

By the time the three of you get in the car, the first few snowflakes are falling. Max sits stiffly in the passenger seat the whole drive, like he’s worried a little snow will send you into a violent crash. You make it home safely, of course, and unload the groceries together. Charles is sitting on the couch in front of the living room window, staring at the snow, a cup of hot chocolate in hand.

“It’s already pretty,” he says, softly.

You ruffle his hair. “Is there more hot chocolate?”

He nods. “Oscar’s making it.”

You head for the kitchen, bags in hand, and find Oscar and Alex huddled around the counter. You give them a smile as you unpack the groceries, and Max and Logan do the same. Oscar looks up at you, eyes bright.

“What do you want in yours?” He asks.

You stand with your hands on your hips, thinking hard. He’s got plenty of supplies- mini marshmallows and sprinkles and caramel drizzle and whipped cream. You shrug.

“Keep it simple,” you say. “A couple marshmallows and some whipped cream.”

He nods eagerly and gets to work. By the time your bags are empty, it’s ready. He hands it off to you with a happy smile- the whipped cream sits in a perfect spiral atop the mug. He looks so proud, and it’s such a sweet gesture, you almost lean over and kiss him right on the forehead. Almost, before you remember half his teammates are here, and Max is watching, and everyone is apparently suspicious. And that it would probably be a strange thing for you to do. You just smile and thank him quietly instead.

You head back into the living room with the mug, trying to shake his soft, proud grin from your brain. Charles is there, in the loveseat next to the window, and he pats the cushion, beckoning you to join him. You sink down, turning so you can look out the window, too. He tosses a blanket over your lap.

“He gave you more whipped cream than me,” he says, pouting.

You shrug. “Maybe he likes me better.”

Charles narrows his eyes at you. “Do you remember, a few months ago, when you thought he hated you?”

You nod. “Funny how things change, huh?”

Oscar walks in then, a mug in his hands. His gaze slips to the window, brows raising on his forehead, and he smiles happily. You smile, too and turn back towards the window as he walks over.

“Pretty,” he says, softly. “Wow, it’s really starting to come down, huh?”

You sigh. “God, I hope they cancel classes tomorrow.”

Charles sighs and sits up. “That reminds me. I have an assignment due at midnight.”

He stands up and stalks off, taking his hot chocolate with him. Oscar makes a sympathetic noise, but he doesn’t hesitate to steal Charles’ spot on the couch. You smile at him when he sits down. Both of you put your legs up on the cushions so you can stare out the window. You rest your head against the back of the couch and let your knee rest against his. Outside, Logan pulls up with a full car, having offered to pick up a few of the team members who didn’t want to walk in the snow. Carlos climbs out of the front seat and leans over, already trying to scrape together a snowball. Oscar sighs. You turn to look at him, and he’s got a look of apprehension on his face. You nudge your knee against his.

“What’s up?” You ask.

He shrugs. “Maybe they’ll cancel the games next weekend, too.”

He doesn’t want to play against his old team. From what he’s told you, you can’t really blame him. He’d hinted at a toxic environment when he first told you, but the longer the two of you have been friends, the more information you’ve pulled out of him. He’d mentioned something about a scar on his upper lip, how his old team captain had left it there when he pushed him onto the ice. Your heart breaks for him.

Under the blanket, you reach out and rest your hand on his knee, lightly. “I’ll keep my fingers crossed.”

He grins widely at that, and then hides it behind his mug of hot chocolate. You smile right back. Outside, Carlos hits Logan directly in the stomach with a snowball. The others are making their way towards the house. You brace yourself for the impending chaos.

Charles and Max cook dinner, and there are enough people in the house that you end up eating in the living room on one of the couches. Lando sits next to you, while Oscar sits on the floor in front of you, his back against the couch. The news is playing on the TV, and you all steal glances at the bottom of the display, where the area snow closures are being announced.

Max pokes his head into the living room from the dining room. “Snow’s getting bad. Anyone who doesn’t live here should probably go now, yeah?”

People begin to stand up. You almost follow suit, figuring it’s about time you headed back to your apartment, and not really wanting to walk in the snow. Lando grabs your wrist and tugs, though, and Oscar’s head whips around to look at the two of you.

“Maybe you should just stay,” Lando suggests, a small smile on his face. “It’s a storm warning, you know.”

You blink softly at him, though you sit back down. “Lan, I don’t have any of my stuff. I don’t have clothes to sleep in. I have an 8am class, and I don’t want to sleep on the couch and have a sore neck-“

“Oh come on, you know they’re going to cancel classes,” Oscar says, nudging your knee lightly.

“And if they don’t, I’ll go get your stuff,” Lando suggests. He pouts. “And you don’t have to sleep on the couch, I’ll get the air mattress out. C’mon. What if your power goes out?”

“When my power goes out, yours also goes out,” you remind him.

“But we can all be powerless together,” Charles chimes in from the other end of the couch.

You groan. “You guys. I’m an adult. I can take care of myself in a little bit of snow.”

You hear Logan’s car start up outside. You try to get up again, but Lando wraps his arms around your arm, and Oscar reaches for your ankles. You let out a squeaky laugh and try to break free just as Max walks back into the living room, brows furrowed.

“Max! Tell Bunny she should stay here,” Lando calls out.

Max blinks, eyes darting over the entire situation before he turns to look at you. “There’s a winter storm. You live alone. You are not going anywhere.”

You grumble, but you go limp anyways. Lando lets go of you and high fives Max as he walks past. Oscar holds onto your legs for slightly longer, and he squeezes your calf softly before he pulls away. You try to act normal about it, though from the side eyed look Lando gives you, you’re not sure you were successful.

Eventually, you head to the kitchen to help Max clean up from dinner. Lily, Alex, George, and Oscar sit at the dining room table, playing cards, while you and Max do dishes and Lando and Charles clean counters. When your eyes stay on the Oscar for too long, watching him laugh happily, the sink nearly overflows. Max nudges your shoulder.

“You can go hangout, if you want. I can do the dishes,” he suggests.

You shake your head. “M’fine. Just spaced out a bit.”

Max nods, though you can feel him watching you every so often. Lando and Charles start slapping each other with rolled up wet washcloths, and that distracts Max enough, at least for a few minutes. There’s music playing, and you hum along as the soapy water warms your fingers. When the dishes are done, Max ushers you to the dining room, and you take a seat in the chair on next to Oscar. Lando and Charles join, too, and you smile around at everyone. Snow is falling in the backyard, and the world feels quiet. Oscar’s fingers brush against yours when you both reach for a card, and you can’t help but smile. You’re exactly where you want to be.

At 9:30pm, just when you’re starting to yawn, and Lando is talking about going and setting up the air mattress, everyone’s phones go off. Little dings and chirps and vibration sounds echo through the dining room. Alex is the first one to open the email.

“Classes are canceled!” He calls out. “Snow day!”

The room erupts into chaos. Lando and Max hug each other, George stands up and cheers, while Charles collapses forward onto the table in relief. You turn to Oscar as he wraps an arm around your shoulders and shakes you gently. Alex leans over and kisses Lily on the cheek as she cheers. The joy in the room is infectious. Snow days have the ability to turn you all into children again, apparently.

Oscar leaves his arm around the back of your chair for the rest of the game. You try desperately to act like it’s not there, like you can’t feel the warmth of him on the back of your neck or the way his fingers brush against your shoulder. It’s consuming your thoughts, though, making it insanely difficult to focus on the card game at hand.

He’s one of the first to go to bed, and you miss the feeling as soon as he’s gone. You head up to bed eventually, and you pass Charles in the hallway on the way to brush your teeth. He gives you a sleepy half hug and stumbles into his room. You find yourself looking at Oscar’s door and wondering if he’s still awake, but you’re not sure what you’d even do if he was.

You wake up the next morning to Lando still out cold, snoring loudly into his pillow, and the early sun inching its way through the blinds. The air mattress is partially deflated, and you slide off of it and onto the floor with a soft thud. There’s a hoodie laying on the floor that seems relatively clean, and you pull it on. You know immediately it’s not Lando’s- it smells like a different laundry detergent and cologne, but it feels familiar and warm, so you leave it on. Then you wrap a blanket around your shoulders before you head downstairs.

Oscar’s sitting on the loveseat, still rubbing sleep from his eyes when you find him. He turns and blinks up at you, eyelids heavy. You blink back, long and slow, the way you’d been told to do with pet cats. It seems to work on him- he smiles. Without a word, you head for the kitchen.

You return with two mugs of tea, and he smiles up at you. He makes room for you to sit, and you do so happily, curling your legs under you and fully facing the window. It’s a winter wonderland outside. You can’t even see where the front yard ends and the street begins. Snow is still falling, though at a slower rate.

“It’s so… quiet,” Oscar whispers.

He stretches one leg out behind you on the couch, and bends his other knee up next to you. When you lean against him lightly, he doesn’t protest or move away. He just smiles.

You nod in agreement. “Pretty. I love snow.”

You blink a couple times and take a sip of your tea. Oscar’s leg is warm against your side. He reaches out to brush a stray lock of hair from your face. You sigh and let your eyelids flutter shut.

“Still sleepy?” He asks.

You nod. “Yeah, but the air mattress is deflating, and Lando’s snoring, so…”

“Here,” he says, and you blink at him in confusion.

Oscar’s hand brushes against yours where you’re holding the mug. Your grip falters, and he slips it from your hand and sets it down on the nearby table. Before you can blink again, he leans forward and wraps an arm around your middle. Then he uses it to haul you towards him, your back against his chest, side by side on the little sofa. You’re nestled between him and the back of the couch, surrounded in warmth, your skin burning up. You can feel the soft rise and fall of his chest behind you.

“Okay?” He asks.

You nod, too sleepy to form the words, too sleepy to worry about what this means or if it’s weird or if someone else will see the two of you and have questions. He lets out a little laugh, his hand slipping into the pocket of the hoodie you’re wearing.

“Is this my hoodie?” He asks. You shrug. “Think it is, there's a hole in this pocket.”

“It was on Lando’s floor,” you mumble, burrowing deeper next to him. “So it’s fair game.”

He laughs, but he lets it go. You rest your cheek against his other arm and bask in the softness of it all, blinking at the falling snow and the soft morning light. Sleep scratches at the back of your brain, and as much as you want to fight it, as much as you want to stay present, it melts over you. The last thing you feel before you fall back asleep is the press of his cheek against the top of your head.

When you wake up, he’s in the kitchen, talking lowly with Alex. There’s a pillow wedged behind you to keep you from falling over and off the couch, and the blanket is pulled up around your chin. You don’t blame him for getting up, and you’re a bit relieved that he seems to have done it before the rest of his roommates are up, because you might have never heard the end of it. Though, when Lando rolls out of bed and joins you on the couch, with Max not far behind, and the three of you squeeze onto the little sofa together, you wonder if they’d have even questioned it. Maybe they’d have seen it the same as this- friends curled up on a slow morning, sharing space and warmth. Maybe that’s all it was for Oscar, too. You’re probably the only one who felt butterflies over it.

Oscar pouts when he walks in and sees his spot taken, though. Behind him in the doorway, Alex meets your gaze with a smirk, eyebrows raised, and you start to wonder again. Eventually, the rest of the people in the house join you downstairs, and you all start to make snow day plans. You close your eyes and listen to them talk. Whatever they come up with, you’ll enjoy, you know it already.

…..

Unfortunately for Oscar, the snow clears, and the first game against the Bears goes forward as planned that week. It’s a mess. The Timberwolves are up by two by the time they’re halfway into the second period, but the Bears are playing like, well, bears. Not a lot of penalties, but cheap shots and bad moves and what looks to be exhausting hockey. They’re frustrated by their own inability to score by the third period, and that’s when the claws really come out. The refs send a Bears player to the box for slashing. He gets back on the ice, and then another one gets called for tripping. There’s a few minutes left, they’re down a player, and they’re desperate.

When Oscar gets locked into a battle for the puck with his old team captain, you hold your breath. He manages to bat it away and send it skidding towards Max, but his helmet and face mask get shoved askew in the process. Somehow, you just know. Everyone in the arena follows the puck, but you watch as the captain on the other team rips his gloves off. You grab onto Lily’s arm and watch his fist connect with Oscar’s jaw. The Timberwolves bench erupts into chaos. The fight is over before it even starts, because Oscar just pushes the guy away and doesn’t swing back. The team captain gets sent to the penalty box. Oscar gets his helmet back on and gets back in the game.

An hour and a half later, you sit at the kitchen counter in their house, a mug in front of you. The house is quiet. You’re not sure why you’re still here- Lando went to bed a while ago, and Max had retreated to his room even before that. You’d made the excuse of staying to clean up the dishes, but now you’re just… here, still. Waiting. You should really go home. It’s bordering on midnight. If you walk home much later than this and any of the guys find out, they’ll be pissed.

The front door creaks open. Soft footsteps echo down the hallway, and you look up from your mug of tea. Oscar doesn’t seem surprised when he walks into the kitchen and finds you sitting there. He stops in the doorway, shoulders dropping. There’s a bruise shadowing his jaw. You wince.

“It looks worse than it feels,” he mumbles.

You stand up from the stool and head for the fridge. You can hear him walking closer as you rummage around in the freezer, finally finding one of the ice packs they keep in there. On a whim, you also reach into a cleverly disguised bag of frozen peas, and come out with two chocolate dipped ice cream bars. When you turn back to Oscar, items in hand, he looks perplexed.

“We have ice cream?” He asks, quietly.

You smirk. “Max hides them. But he can’t keep secrets from me. He won’t mind.”

He takes a seat on the stool, and you flip the switch for the overhead lights. He grimaces.

“I already had it looked at,” he says, brows furrowed. “Trainer said it’s fine.”

You hum as you step closer, pretending your heart doesn’t thud in your chest when you come into close range. “I know,” you say, reaching up and placing the ice pack against his face gently. He hisses. “This is actually an interrogation.”

His hand comes up to hold the pack, fingers brushing against yours. He laughs, then winces. “Yeah? What about?”

You drop your hand to your side. “Why didn’t you fight back?”

He sighs heavily, looking anywhere other than your face. You roll your eyes and open one of the ice cream bars and hand it to him. Then you sit down on another stool, facing him, before you open your own ice cream, too.

“I don’t wanna get suspended,” he shrugs. “And I don’t really fight.”

You decide not to bring up the guy at the party last semester and the way Oscar had been ready to punch him. “Even if they hit you first?”

He nods and makes a little noise. You wonder if he ever fought back when they were on the same team, or if he just accepted it. Your heart aches for him. He shrugs again, eyes flickering up to yours. He looks so sweet, despite the harsh kitchen light, despite the purple tinge on his skin, even more with a bit of chocolate in the corner of his lips. You take a bite of your own ice cream in the hopes that it’ll cool you down.

“Just never felt worth it,” he admits. “I don’t know. Some people are in it for that, for the hits and the fights and the… aggression. I just like hockey. Besides, the guy got a penalty. So now he’s out for a game. That’s better than getting a hit on him.”

The tone he says the guy in is interesting- like he’s distancing himself, like it’s easier if he pretends it was just some guy and not the captain of his old team. You overheard some of Lando and Max’s hushed whispers. You know the guy said some shitty things about Oscar on the ice. And tomorrow, he has to play the rest of the team all over again. Oscar takes another bite of his ice cream and purses his lips.

“I’m okay,” he promises. “And if the guys think I'm going easy on them because I have some weird sense of loyalty, I’m really not.”

“Oh, Osc,” you say quietly, shaking your head. You reach across the gap and press your hand to his wrist, the one holding the ice pack. “Nobody thinks that.”

He shrugs. “Carlos was-“

“Carlos was being a dumbass, but he doesn’t really believe it,” you promise. “After the game, all they were worried about was you. That’s it.”

He lets out a huff and takes another bite of his ice cream, cracking through the chocolate shell. “I don’t wanna be worried about.”

You almost pull your hand from his wrist, but as soon as he says it, he winces, closing his eyes. You wait, rubbing your thumb against his skin. He takes a deep breath. You press your finger to his pulse point, and his breath hitches. You watch his shoulders move.

“I don’t mean that. It’s nice. Just. Had a bad day,” he says. “And we have to do it again tomorrow.”

You nod and squeeze his wrist. “That’s the shitty thing about the way college hockey works, huh.”

He nods. The ice pack bumps against his face, and he hisses. You muffle a laugh and reach to put your hand over his to steady it, keeping your grip gentle. He inhales through pursed lips and closes his eyes. He slips his hand off the ice pack and lets you hold it, and blood roars in your ears. It feels so trusting. Strangely intimate. His hand falls to your knee, and you try to breathe normally. You’re probably failing miserably. You swallow all the feelings down and try to come up with something to say.

“Tomorrow is a new day,” you remind him. “We can wake up and pretend today never happened. A new game, a new start.”

He sighs and closes his eyes. “I can try.”

“That’s all anyone could ask for,” you tell him. “That’s all you can ask yourself for.”

A wavering smile crosses his lips. You take a bite of your ice cream to stop yourself from leaning in to brush your own lips against his cheek. The two of you eat the rest of your ice cream bars in the peace and quiet, under the fluorescent kitchen lights. His hand stays on your knee, barely there, just resting. Your fingers go numb holding the ice pack, but you don’t complain. You can hold this for him, for a little bit. He’s holding onto enough.

…..

You wake up on the couch the next morning with an ache in your neck, because by the time you finished the ice cream Oscar insisted it was too late for you to walk home, and you hadn’t wanted to wake Lando by sneaking into his room. Upstairs, you can hear the guys starting to wake up. Soon they’ll be donning their suits and heading to the rink to get ready. You push yourself to sit up and run a hand through your hair. Then you head for the front door.

Once you’re home, you call Lily. “I have an idea,” you say, ”and I need your help.”

Lily, to her credit, doesn’t ask a lot of questions. You’re sure she sort of understands what’s going on without having to ask, but you’re grateful either way. The two of you shuffle into seats in the arena, eager to watch. You’re wearing your jersey today, hoping it brings good luck, and you’ve both gone full out with lines of blue face paint under your eyes.

When they come out onto the ice, Lando’s the first one to spot you. He does a double take, nudging at Max’s shoulder. They both stare, heads tilted. You can’t blame them. Instead of your normal seats, the two of you are in the front row, right down by the boards.

You’d sit here every game if you could, but the tickets are outrageously expensive on a college student budget, especially when you can sit in the student section for free. Today, though, you’d splurged. There’s a poster board sitting at your feet that you’ve worked painstakingly on all morning. It needs to be seen, and for that, you need to be up close.

Lily lets out a squeak when Alex skates over. “Oh! Hi!”

You roll your eyes affectionately at your friend as she makes hand gestures at her boyfriend through the plexiglass. It’s too loud for them to hear each other, especially through the glass, but Alex’s big smile says more than words ever could. For what’s definitely not the first time, you find yourself wishing you could have what they have. You want someone to smile like that when they see you. You want to feel that giddy feeling.

Lando skates over, tapping his glove against the glass. You just shrug and laugh. He points at the poster board. You shake your head, and he rolls his eyes. It’s not for him. He’s not the one who needs it. Out on the ice, Oscar’s next to Charles, heads bent together as they stretch. Max skates over and points at you, and from this close, you can see Charles' affectionate eye roll, and the way Oscar smiles. He goes from apprehension to adoration quite quickly. Something turns in your chest. Lando, who’s still standing nearby, quirks a brow, and you wonder how plainly it’s written across your face.

While they’re all looking, you take a deep breath, pick up the sign, and raise it above your head. Alex bursts into giddy laughter, Lando’s shoulders drop, and Oscar’s face lights up like the sun.

Kick Some PiASStri, it says. The letters were cut out of magazines and glued down this morning, and you’re still a bit worried it’s not dry enough, but it seems to hold for now. Max and Charles bump their heads against each other as they laugh. Oscar shakes his head, absolutely beaming. It’s a new game, a new start, another day, another chance. And maybe, what he needs is a little bit of encouragement. A reminder that there are people rooting for him.

He skates over, playfully shoulder checking Lando, who’s talking to Alex, now. Oscar takes his stick and scoops up a loose puck off the ice. He flips it over the barriers to you, and you catch it, shrieking at the temperature when it lands in your hand. It’s nearly as cold as the icepack you held to his face the night before.The bruise on his jaw is visible as he looks at you through the glass, but he’s smiling so wide all the same.

He yells something. You can barely hear, but between that and the lip reading you’ve learned to do after years of watching hockey, you think he says something about his “number one fan.”

You just smile and laugh and hold the puck up in the air, hoping the giddy feeling in your chest isn’t painfully obvious. He puts a glove against the plexiglass, and you place your hand there, too, and you know you can’t but you swear you feel the warmth of him. It’s probably just your brain playing tricks on you. He shakes his head, then pats his hand against the clear surface, and then he takes off across the ice.

When you turn to Lily, she’s smiling knowingly. “That was…”

“Shut up,” you grumble, rolling your eyes. “I don’t wanna hear it. He just needed some encouragement.”

It seems to work. He’s on fire that night, skating across the ice like it’s exactly where he belongs. You’re proud to be there, proud to hold the poster up when he scores, proud to call yourself his friend.

After the game, you find yourself in the back hallway of the arena, waiting. You can hear the music in the locker room from here, can hear the intermittent shouting and cheering from the guys. The other team is long gone. Lily’s back at the house already, getting things ready for the inevitable big party they’ll be having after a win like this. The poster you’d made leans against the wall.

Oscar’s the one to find you. His smile seems permanently set on his face tonight. His hair’s a mess, towel dried and sticking in every direction. “You kicked ass,” you call out.

He doesn’t stop at the socially acceptable distance apart. He walks close, so close you have to lean your head back just slightly to look him in the eye, so close that you can smell his shampoo and see the freckles on his cheeks. His hands are in his pockets, and your heart is in your throat. There’s something wild in his eyes. The bruise on his jaw is dark, almost blue now, and you reach up to brush a finger against the outline of it. He blinks and pulls his hands from his pockets.

“It was nice to see you in the front row,” he says.

Your pulse is pounding. “Yeah, well, don’t get used to it. Those tickets are expensive. Just needed to make sure you could see the sign.”

He juts his chin out. “Yeah?”

You swallow, then nod. “Yeah. Did it work?”

He doesn’t answer. He just reaches out, and his hand lands on your hip. His other hand comes up to cup your cheek, thumb brushing under your eye, and you hold your breath. His eyes search your face, darting between your eyes and cheeks and lips. You lean closer, closer. His cheeks are rosy and blotchy, from the game and the post game shower and- and maybe, from this, too. Is he feeling it, too? Is his heart racing, is he holding his breath, are there butterflies swirling around in his stomach?

Just when you think you can’t hold your breath any longer, he closes the gap, pressing his lips against your cheek. You wonder if he can feel how warm your face is beneath his lips, if he can hear the way your heartbeat picks up. It’s just a kiss on the cheek, but you let your eyes fall shut anyways, let the warmth wash over you, down your spine and all the way to your fingertips and toes. This is better than a thank you, better than anything, really.

There’s a loud bang of a door being flung open, and both of you break apart in a rush. You wobble, and he does his best to keep you steady. By the time you stand up straight, the two of you are standing a respectable distance apart, and the door to the hallway swings open. It’s Carlos, first, followed by the rest of the team. You try to compose yourself. Oscar’s face is bright red.

“Bunny!” Charles calls out, eager and bright eyed. “We won!”

Oscar backs away when Charles rushes up to hug you. Nobody comments on his red cheeks, or the poster sitting at your feet. You’re sure they’d teased him about it, but they won the game, so anything that got them there is seen as a good thing. Max is the next one to wrap you up in a hug, and soon you’re being pulled along in the stream of hockey players, out towards where the rest of their friends and families wait, out towards the walk back to the house where the party will already be in motion.

“Your face paint is smudged,” Lando says, pointing at your cheek.

You laugh and brush Lando’s hand away from your face. Out of the corner of your eye, you watch Oscar wipe his thumb on his pants, as discreetly as possible, and your heart flutters in your chest. There’s a blue streak of paint left behind on the fabric. It’s some sort of evidence that it really happened. It’s enough, for now.

Later that night, when you’re falling asleep in Lando’s room after a long night of celebrating, you think of deep blue bruises and bright blue face paint, and how much you wish you’d gotten the chance to mix them both together. It would look nice, you think, as you drift off. Paint smudged on his rosy, freckled cheeks. It would’ve been nice.

You dream of Oscar. You’re definitely not complaining.

a/n: happy oscar’s birthday to all who celebrate! 🥳

Series Taglist: @sourskywalker @ivyvlair @gwginnyweasley @annispamz @bearlul @aresriiots @ggaslyp1 @putting-it-into-parc @black-fireproofs @smilinlemon @arieslost @floralkoi @vicurious28 @likedbygaslyy @rorabelle15 @bwormie @treatallwithkindness @fandomnerd11 @adhxmoony @insunia @mindflay3r @talking-raw @colmathgames2 @assholeinatrenchcoat @saachiep81 @venusacrossthestars @v1naco @anthonylockwoodandco111 @whalebursoot-main @ellen3101 @k-pevensie28 @ninifee1802 @not-nyasa @pleasecallmeunhinged @andruuu28 @aceofwordsandarrows @dreamsarebig @secretunnels @ginsengi @yayahnaise @f1petra @lovecarsgoingvroom @lalloronaisreal @fangirl125reader @tpwkmera @booksandflowrs @elizanav

[punkpandapatrixk]

❤️‍🩹I Just Want to be Loved ♦︎ Timeless Pick A Card

We attract terrible loves for various reasons; so many lessons; but now sorrow has got to lessen. Let’s reveal patterns by exhuming roots. We’ve got to stop this cycle of disappointments. Done being made to feel as if we’re hard to love.

We’re not hard to love. Many of us were simply denied love, warmth and affection as we were growing up… Don’t know how to love self; don’t know how to love others; basically don’t know how to even receive Love… Who’s to blame now?

Why the hell were so many children denied love, warmth, affection…?

What are you going to do with yourself when you were denied love, warmth and affection as you were growing up?

☆♪°・.

‘The child who isn’t embraced by the village will burn it down to feel its warmth.’ – an African proverb

People denied warmth and affection tend to fall into a desperate loop of fishing for attention as a result of love-deficiency, right? Some learn to lick love off a knife; some pursue success (whatever that means) all too frantically; some…shoot complete strangers in broad daylight; and some who ain’t got the guts to murder complete strangers in public places go instead for antagonising strangers on social media… Gosh, that is desperate.

But you know what, not all hope is lost because there’s still plenty of us who are blessed with this incredibly RARE thing called self-awareness. There are plenty of us who will take our traumas to the graveyard than pass them down the next generations.

You, don’t deserve to have your sanity and your Life ruined by some psychos who didn’t know how to love you. Reclaim lost pieces of yourself by understanding THREE Houses in your natal chart, babe:

4th House: your roots; tells you what was lacking in your home; explains your erratic 10th House ambitions

8th House: your marriage or your desire for a bond like it; this the House where trauma manifests itself in full spectrum

11th House: your wish fulfilment; where you connect with people who support your visions; breeds a healthy sense of connection, even community

SONG: Emptiness by BoA

MOVIE: Breakfast at Tiffany’s (1961)

[PAC Masterlist] [Part 2] [Part 3]

[Patreon] [Paid Readings]

☆♪°・. ☆♪°・. ☆♪°・. ☆♪°・. ☆♪°・. ☆♪°・.

Pile 1 – Because I Can’t Even Trust Myself

VIBE: Trust by Hamasaki Ayumi

lost pieces (pertaining to 4th House) – Ace of Pentacles Rx

It’s clear your childhood didn’t offer a sense of stability or security—the physical kind that children usually need. It could be that a grownup left early or it could be that you moved around a lot, so you easily lost contact with new friends you’d just made. In essence, it feels like you grew up feeling ‘everything disappears eventually; everyone leaves eventually’.

Some of you might’ve grown up not having a lot of material resources, but for the majority of you tuning into this Pile, it was more a feeling of a lack of warmth. For children, the pain of neglect and a lack of emotional connection do really affect our physical health more severely. You might’ve grown up poor and sickly due to all the grownups around you being inattentive, unaffectionate, and just…unreliable at best.

Because of this awareness, from a young age you realised you would have to do everything yourself. You wanted to grow up quickly and do your own things your own ways. It’s not like you had to grow up fast, you wanted to grow up fast to have your freedom and power! It was…hard to trust adults. It was hard to trust the world at large.

growing pains (pertaining to 8th House) – 8 of Pentacles

On the path of growing up, I think you became a hard worker of sort? This is very nuanced though—there are layers to your developing yourself to become a hardworking person. In many ways, you grew up responsible because you didn’t want to become like the adults who had disappointed you. But since this sense of ‘responsibility’ is a product of neglect and trauma…this is coming off as your feeling responsible for everything. Everything!

Some of you could’ve been too hard on yourself, expecting way too much for your age. You’ve felt like you’re always the one with everything to prove. It’s hard living like that. It feels like you’ve put so much effort into keeping everything together, and yet, nobody sees how much you care. Nobody truly understands the fear in your mind and pain you carry in your heart.

In matters of relationship, you cling extra hard to friends or lovers, too; because deep down you’re afraid of losing things and people, again and again. This unhealthy attachment—and to some extent, controlling behaviour—is truly your wounded inner child attempting frantically to keep your Reality from falling apart…

reclamation (pertaining to 11th House) – 4 of Cups

I’m very sure that at some point in Life, your Higher Self and team of Spirit Guides are going to kick in and meddle with your Earthly business. For some people, it’s possible you could lose contact with everybody you’ve ever known in Life and go into a hermit mode to find yourself again. For some, it could be that your whole Life is simply flipped, without necessarily losing key people in your Life, for you to look at Life and human connections from a very different point of view.

It’s going to be hard, of course. Emotionally, it could be devastating. Themes of abandonment and betrayal are big in your incarnation. But you know, ultimately, all of these challenges serve to remind you that the Cup of Love and Affection you’ve been looking for has always been right inside of you. You’ve had a bitter time with a lot of people because deep down you couldn’t trust them. You couldn’t trust other people’s loyalty because you didn’t even believe that you’re worthy of that Love and Loyalty you yearn for.

Your Spirit Guides are saying, that although at some point in Life things are going to get really tough, know that when you’ve graduated those lessons, you’re going to be rewarded with the most beautiful Soulmate-shit friendships, familyship and relationship. Truth be told, part of your Soul’s scenario in this incarnation is to find your Soul Tribe; and find your Tribe you shall~

A L O N E🔻💗

ALL of you – Red Alchemist (John Dee)

becoming ONE and whole – Priestess of Healing

Access full reading + cards on Patreon🌸

☆♪°・. ☆♪°・. ☆♪°・. ☆♪°・. ☆♪°・. ☆♪°・.

Pile 2 – Misled by My Own Compassion

VIBE: Cry Me A River by Julie London

lost pieces (pertaining to 4th House) – Knight of Cups

It’s very likely your 4th House is in a Water sign, but if not, you’re still very much a Water-y person; perhaps your Ascendant or Moon is in a Water sign, or that you have Neptune/Moon near/in your 4th, 7th or 11th House. All of this generally makes you a deeply compassionate person. No matter what outer appearances give, you strive to look deeper into a person’s Soul. You have so much empathy and you want to believe in the good of people.

Alas! This rotten world doesn’t make it too easy. This world is not a world where kindness and compassion are truly rewarded, if we don’t learn to be a tad cruel ourselves. You’re not in the wrong for being so genuinely good and compassionate; it’s this world that’s the wrong world. You know that? Therefore, it is paramount you learn to be a bitchilante! But I’m getting ahead of myself.

In spite of this PAC’s intro, I sense the majority of you tuning into this Pile actually grew up quite well. Many of you actually grew up in loving homes and that’s why it’s been quite challenging for you to grapple with the realness of the ugliness of the world outside of your loving home. Really…people in the real world…are monsters! And you were taken aback!

But some of you instead most likely grew up in chaotic, battlefield-esque homes and that’s why you’ve striven to be so good to a point of detriment.

growing pains (pertaining to 8th House) – 0 The Fool Rx

Be that as it may, you being you… Well, you do put in the effort to try and understand what makes monsters the way that they are, right? It’s all good and wonderful, until you get yourself in deep trouble where nobody can save you but your own monstrosity. Depending on your age when reading this, this could be something that’s happened in the past or will happen; where you will be forced to grow up in the sense of seeing the world as it is and get firm with assholes!

Dr Jordan Peterson has this gold shit to summarise this spiritual lesson you will be taking at some point in Life: ‘You should be a monster, an absolute monster, and then you should learn to control it.’ Well, that’s male speech. In female speech, we just say: ‘you gotta grow up and be a bitchilante!’

Be a bitch only to those who deserve it. How would you protect yourself from monsters if you don’t have the strength to fight them at their own game, darling? If you’re harmless, weak as a fawn, if anything, the real monsters in the world are going to toy with your sanity: ‘I saw my “crazy” side once and decided I wouldn’t be involved with anyone that would take me out of my peace like that ever again.’

Be a bitchilante. That whole concept of ‘good, harmless, love and light, positivity-only’ bullshit was put out there not to really make you good but to weaken you against the truly monstrous ones. WAKE UP, BITCH!

reclamation (pertaining to 11th House) – 4 of Pentacles

So? So what if you’re selective with your affection? Not everybody deserves your compassion. That’s for sure. There are many people in the world and you can’t be nice to all of them. One at point or another, you’re gonna be a villain in someone’s story—so what? Everybody else is the main character of their own Stories; that, you can’t control.

Be careful that you’re not falling victim to your own narcissism in wanting to be praised in everybody’s Story, yeah? So then, pertaining to your 11th House, weirdly enough, your wish fulfilment is in the form of a psychological liberation from your own idea of yourself in the minds of others. I sense that if you’re East Asian this is gonna resonate much harder and louder LOL

Anyway, I want to assure you that once you’ve graduated from your spiritual lessons, you will be met with unique, courageous, rebellious weirdos who will be just as clear as you are about what it truly means to be a good person in a world that’s often very bad. How good should a person be to truly be considered a good person?

‘If I offended you, cry me a river. I’ll bring snacks and a raft. I will literally float down your tears eating chips and working on my tan.’ – Fuckology

A L O N E🔻💚

ALL of you – Green Geographer (Gerardus Mercator)

becoming ONE and whole – Priestess of Success

Access full reading + cards on Patreon🌸

☆♪°・. ☆♪°・. ☆♪°・. ☆♪°・. ☆♪°・. ☆♪°・.

Pile 3 – Lights Out; I’m Out to Find Myself

VIBE: To. X by Taeyeon

lost pieces (pertaining to 4th House) – Ace of Cups Rx

I’ve to preface this Pile by saying this the pile that gets a little violent…

You were originally such a positive, happy-go-lucky kid, but quite early on, this world gave you so much darkness. So many reasons to be sad. It’s not been a very kind life, to be honest. Defo many of you have tragical placements here—your 4th or 5th House could start or end in Scorpio; have Lilith/Pluto/Chiron/Saturn there or in the sign of Cancer/Pisces; or it could be that your Venus/Moon is imprisoned in the 8th or 12th House and harshly aspected, too...

If your childhood has been violent or mightily confusing, it’s a group thing, OK? You can think like that. It’s not your fault. Know that practically everybody who has these harsh placements has gone through very similar things as you. So you’re really not the only one who’s failing—whatever that means. You’ve been gaslit a lot into believing there’s something wrong with you, but it was your environment that was just filled with totally terrible Human beings. That much I’d like to assure you.

It wasn’t natural how you were abused psychologically and emotionally. The people around you drew a parallel to Cinderella’s stepsisters in the Disney classic. It’s ridiculous like that. I think you grew up terribly lonely and created comfort characters in your head to console your sorrows? It’s very likely that your comfort characters were in actuality a mirror fragment of your Soul Family’s existence locked in your memory bank.

growing pains (pertaining to 8th House) – XIV Temperance Rx

Life, unfortunately, isn’t a Disney movie. As a result of the psychological and emotional abuse you’ve endured in childhood, your friendships and relationships might’ve been quite turbulent, at times even violent. Juuust a small number of you could’ve dealt with being called a violent kid, or you could’ve struggled with anger management and have terrible tantrums. All of these have made human connections quite difficult to navigate.

It’s not like you want to be a nasty person, right? Many times, you couldn’t help the way you react/respond to what’s being said and unsaid because, somehow, there are many things that people do and say that trigger a trauma response in you. There’s a very difficult Mars thingy going on here. I think many of you resonating with this Pile have some difficult Mars (ruler of Scorpio) placements/aspects that affect the way you manifest human connections in your Life.

Speaking in terms of synastry, it could be that you’ve attracted a great deal of people whose Mars aspected badly in your natal chart—consequently triggering bad traumas and manifesting violent outbursts in your connections. Ultimately though, these negative experiences with other people could’ve enforced your belief about how unlovable you are, which, really, is a false belief…

reclamation (pertaining to 11th House) – 5 of Wands

It is a false Reality that you’re unlovable or unworthy of a healthy relationship. That bullshit was implanted in you through the creation of a harsh environment that caused you a great deal of rage. Of course, you’re accountable for how you behave towards other people, but your foundation was never quite healthy or peaceful or harmonious, so… How about we put it all behind us and focus on healing? After all, it’s not like the people you’ve had a beef with were completely innocent? XP

It's kinda selfish to think like that, but you can depend on your own discernment to distinguish who amongst the people you’ve hurt or had a beef with to apologise to. Remember: sometimes apologies only make you weaker and looking at the unique bullshit astrological placements you were born with… apologising to the wrong fucker would only get you gaslit even more! So, don’t. Don’t apologise for the distress you experienced under other people’s lack of support.

Burn that bridge and detach yourself from that old stinking world. With your sheer willpower, you have it in you to rebuild your own little world of love and peace. After all, those harsh placements you were born with, are you aware of just how much power they bestow you? These placements come with a lot of turbulences but once you graduate your first Saturn Return, they also give you a burst of power unlike any other!

Lights out. Not entertaining aenergies that seek to nip your power at the bud anymore. Burn, baby, burn strong! Burn the whole Tower and find yourself on new lands~!

A L O N E🔻💜

ALL of you – Gold Alchemist (Roger Bacon)

becoming ONE and whole – Priestess of Solitude

Access full reading + cards on Patreon🌸

☆♪°・. ☆♪°・. ☆♪°・. ☆♪°・. ☆♪°・. ☆♪°・.

[PAC Masterlist] [Part 2] [Part 3]

[Patreon] [Paid Readings]

[stevie-petey]

episode five: the flea and the acrobat

“Steve, what-” He pushes past you in a frenzied hurry to get to his car, but you grab his jacket and force him to stop. “Answer me! Is Nancy okay? Was Jonathan with her?” Steve whips around and sneers at you. “Why do you even care about them? About him?” “Because we’re friends,” you say, and for the first time you really mean it. Nancy has become someone you’d call a friend.  Another cruel laugh escapes Steve’s lips. “Friends, huh? Yeah, those two looked real fucking cozy in her bed.”

summary: you and dustin have a long overdue Sibling Moment, at will's funeral you and jonathan exchange information and surprise ! it's all horrible news ! nancy has awful timing and when you leave her alone with jonathan one damn time you and steve end up trauma bonded on her front porch #bffs.

rating: general, though there's the use of guns in here for plot point sake, as well as cursing

warnings: use of guns, cursing, fem!reader, and use of y/n.

words: 14.4k (whew)

before you swing in: i'm back gang ! fall semester is almost done and i am in the trenches, so i leave y'all with this monster of a chapter before hell week (i have three finals in one day next week, no i don't want to talk about it). please enjoy this beauty, i had so much fun messing with character relationships in this and it was very ;)

-

With how many times you’ve knocked on the Wheeler’s door this week, you’d think that Mrs. Wheeler would stop looking so surprised when she answers. 

“Y/N?”

You give the woman a small smile. “Hi, Mrs. Wheeler. Is, uh, Mike home?”

“Yes… he stayed home today because of Will. Is there something you need?” The usually friendly woman seems beaten down from this week’s events as well, which you’re understanding of. 

“I was wondering if I could come in and see how he’s doing? Dustin is really shaken up about it, so I figured…” You shrug, trying to come across as a concerned older sister figure rather than a worried and horrible babysitter who should really retire. 

Mrs. Wheeler places a hand over her heart. “Oh, Y/N. You’ve always been so good with the boys, of course you can check on him. It means a lot that you care.”

Oh, no problem, but if we’re being honest I’m here because I’m scared I accidentally let your son get involved with the supernatural and dangerous monster men thingies that I honestly can’t wrap my head around!

Of course you can’t tell the woman this, so instead you thank her and let yourself in. Immediately you head towards the basement and fling the door open. You like Mrs. Wheeler, but the amount of times her son has snuck out of the house without her noticing honestly concerns you, so you’re a bit unsure if Mike even is home.

You get deja-vu from a few days ago as you head down the basement steps, once again hearing the three boys panicking as they try to hide El. Unlike last time, which had only annoyed you, seeing them scramble to hide the girl makes you relieved. 

They’re here, alive and well. You’d let Steve distract you from your worrying on the drive over, so the relief hits you like a damn truck. 

“Oh god not again!” Dustin groans when he sees you, worried that he’s once again going to get yelled at for being at the Wheeler’s with El. 

You ignore his theatrics and walk over to the girl, who is laying face down on the couch. You notice that she’s dressed in one of Nancy’s old costumes and a blonde wig that suits her well. What the hell did the kids get up to today? 

“Do I want to know why El is dressed like a doll and almost passed out on the couch?” 

“That depends on if you’re going to yell at us again,” Mike says. 

You shoot him a glare, but you guess he has a point. The last few times you’ve been with the kids you’ve ended up yelling at them one way or another. You feel bad about that, but then again: they won’t stop getting into trouble. 

El manages to raise her head from the couch, “Hi, Y/N.”

“Hi, sweetie,” you approach the couch and gently nudge her to the side so that you can sit down and place her head on your lap. She nuzzles into your warmth and lets out a sleepy sigh. “And to answer your question, Mike: I’m not here to yell at you guys. I just… Please tell me what’s been going on. I know I haven’t been here for you guys like I should’ve, but-”

“Your boyfriend needed you more,” Mike quips, though there’s some resentment in his voice that causes you to feel even worse.

Dustin hits his shoulder against the boy. “He isn’t her boyfriend, but she couldn’t just abandon him; he needed her. Besides, we have been sneaking off without telling her anything.” 

You cast an appreciative smile at your brother, thankful that even though he’s a pain in your ass, he always has your back like you do his. It’s something he’s always done with you and Mike; being so similar, you and him are constantly butting heads, yet Dustin has always been the first to defend you against his friend (even if you’ve never needed it in the first place). 

“I’m sorry, okay? I messed up, but I’m here now and I really, really need to know if I’m being paranoid. What mess did you dweebs manage to get into?”

The three boys suddenly can’t look at you. Their heads turn in different directions, Lucas scratches the back of his neck, Mike kicks at a board piece on the ground, and Dustin whistles a tune. 

Your shoulders slump. “Is it that bad?”

“It started this morning,” 

“Lucas!”

“Mike, she could help us! The weirdo clearly likes her,” he gestures over to El practically asleep in your lap, “plus, she’s the only sane one left in this group. I need backup.” 

“Backup?” You ask. 

Mike throws his head back in annoyance and lets out a groan as if he’s dying. Truly, this kid is the most dramatic person you’ve ever met. “Fine, we’ll tell you everything if you agree to stop hounding us for sneaking around. Will is missing, he’s our friend, and no one in the party gets left behind.”

You think this over for a moment, weighing the pros and cons in your head. “I will agree to those terms if you guys agree to keep me updated on everything at all times.” 

The boys try to argue, but you don’t let them. 

“I mean it, another person is missing. Nancy’s friend, Barb, was in the same woods that Will was, the same woods that you guys keep insisting on trekking through without supervision. This is serious, guys. Whatever, or whoever, is out there… it’s dangerous, and I-” You swallow down some tears that claw against your throat. “I can’t lose anyone else, okay?” 

The mood in the room is solemn, the three boys silent as your words hang in the air. Naturally, you try to lighten things up. “I’ll deny this if anyone asks, but unfortunately I love you boys.” 

As expected, they immediately begin to gag and pretend that they’ve been impaled with something as they all scream “ew” and “yuck” at your words. You laugh, which causes El to laugh as well, and for a moment it feels like nothing has changed. 

“So?” You ask after the boys have finished their gross theatrics. 

Dustin is the one who makes the decision for them. “We promise to keep you updated, for real this time.” 

“Good, now again I ask: why is El dressed like a doll and half asleep on my lap as we speak?” 

Lucas, Dustin, and Mike begin to talk all at once. 

“Mike radioed for me to head over, claiming he heard Will on the walkie.”

“Yeah, and then they radioed me to join. Sorry, by the way. I would’ve woken you up, but you and Jonathan looked so cozy in your bed so-”

“I thought you said they weren’t dating?”

“Not now, Mike.”

It continues like this for a while as they explain everything they did today. Sneaking El into the school, having to to talk to Mr. Clark, attending the assembly for Will, Mike fighting some idiotic kids for making fun of him before El made the head bully pee himself. 

You look down at the girl in your lap. “You can really make people pee themselves?”

“Sometimes,” she shrugs. 

“Lovely.” 

“That’s what you focus on, Y/N?” Mike asks you, and you simply shrug your shoulders in response. Sue you for still having doubts about Will being alive, you’ve gotten your hopes up one too many times. 

“Are you suggesting I believe that you heard Will through your cheap little walkies?” 

Dustin puts his head in his hands in defeat while Lucas gestures over to you. “See, she’s the sane backup I need.” 

Mike groans at you once more. “No, that’s why we snuck El into the radio room and used the heathkit that Mr. Clark got us. Keep up!”

“What, did you tell the guy that El was a new student?” 

“Don’t be stupid, we told Mr. Clark that she’s my cousin.” 

“Uhh, Y/N,” Dustin laughs nervously, motioning for you to stop talking. “You promised you’d be cool about everything if we told you.”

Knowing that your brother is right, you deflate a bit against the couch and start playing with El’s hair. “I am being cool, I just have so many questions.”

“Oh, just wait.” Lucas snorts. 

Mike now crosses the room to stand in front of you, as if he’s gearing up to tell you some major news. “We heard Will on the heathkit. El, she managed to use her powers to communicate with him.”

Like always, the seriousness in his voice concerns yet intrigues you. “Lucas, do you really believe that it was Will?”

The boy nods at you, his face grim. You don’t like how scared he looks, because out of the entire group he’s the one who is always the most reasonable. If he’s willingly telling you that he thinks it was Will, then you have to start taking the situation at hand seriously. 

“Okay, tell me exactly what you guys heard.”

And they do. One by one they tell you about Will’s pleading for his mom, telling her that it’s like home but cold and dark, the banging that followed after his words, how El had used so much of her energy trying to maintain the communication before the radio caught fire and she was too exhausted to do much else. 

“So, you believe us now?” Mike asks after you’re silent for a moment. 

You look down at the girl in your lap, in awe that someone so small and shy could hold so much power. This time you believe what the boys tell you without much conviction. Now that you know that Barb is missing as well, lost in the same woods as Will, the same woods where you found El, the photos from Nancy and the figure she claims she saw… It’s all starting to come together. 

You’re not sure exactly what you’re caught up in, but you know it’s too late to back out. Whatever is going on, whatever thing took Will and transported him to some unknown place with possibly the same powers that El has, you know it’s your responsibility to handle it. 

“Yes,” you respond, and the boys all sigh with relief. “Just one question though,”

Dustin sighs. “Yes, Y/N?”

“How did it take you guys so long to set fire to the school? Honestly, Jonathan and I thought it’d happen sooner.” 

“You’re hilarious.” Mike deadpans, which only causes you and El to giggle together again. 

“I hate to ruin the good mood, but we seriously need to figure out what Will meant when he said that wherever he is ‘is like home’.” Your brother interrupts. 

Mike spins to face him. “He said, ‘like home, but dark’, right?”

“And ‘empty’.” Lucas adds. 

“‘Empty’ and ‘cold’. Wait, did he say cold?” Dustin asks the group.

You nod your head. “You mentioned cold earlier.”

Lucas throws his hands up in the air in frustration. “The stupid radio kept going in and out!” 

“It’s like riddles in the dark…” Your brother sighs, which you hum in agreement to. 

Will’s words were pretty vague, but you wish you had been there at the middle school as well. Maybe if you had heard the tone of Will’s voice, you’d be of more help.

Mike continues to mumble about “like home” and “dark” for a few more seconds, now pacing around the room. You watch from the couch, El still resting with her head in your lap, and as you’re playing with her hair she finally speaks up after having been silent for a while. 

“Upside down.”

“What’d she say?” Lucas asks.

“Upside down? I guess?” Is all you can tell him. 

“What?” 

While you, Dustin, and Lucas are confused by El’s words, Mike rushes over to the forgotten board from a few days ago and sits down. He frantically flips it over and motions for you to come and join him. You hesitate for a second, but he only doubles down on his waving you over, so you gently lift El’s head up and walk over. 

“God, took you long enough.”

“I was literally three feet away from you on the couch, why did I have to move?”

Mike ignores your question and begins to explain the thirty million thoughts flying through his head at the moment, “When El showed us where Will was, she flipped the board over, remember?” 

You nod, slowly understanding where he’s going with this. “She flipped it upside down.”

“Exactly! Dark. Empty.” 

Lucas looks over at you and Dustin, unamused. “Do you understand what he’s talking about?”

“No,” your brother says at the same time as you saying “the upside down part? Yes. The dark and empty part? No.”

Mike tries to explain further. “Guys, come on, think about it. When El took us to find Will, she took us to his house, right?” 

“You mean last night when they found Will’s body in the water?” You ask, not really understanding where Mike is going with all this. 

“Like Y/N said, he wasn’t there.” Lucas reminds everyone, but Mike still tries to get his point across.

“But what if he was there? What if we just couldn’t see him, what if he was on the other side?”

You think about Jonathan’s words from earlier today in the car while on the way to the funeral home, trying to calm down from his fight with his mom. He had told you about how Joyce was convinced that Will was in the walls within their home, that the body they saw in the morgue hadn’t been his. 

“Hold on,” you interrupt Mike, “you guys said that there was some, like, banging where Will was, right? And that he had been begging his mom to come get him?” 

“Yeah, it was like some sick sci-fi movie!” 

You glare at your brother. “Ignoring you. Anyways, did you guys hear Mrs. Byers on the radio as well?” 

Mike shakes his head. “No, all we could hear was the banging and something... Growling, I guess.”

Knowing Joyce, you’d bet money that the banging had been her. You know that the next time you go over to their house, the walls might actually be destroyed, but she’d been right all along. Will is alive, he has to be. The pieces that you’ve slowly been collecting this past week fall together one by one. 

“That explains the walls and the weird monster thing in Jonathan’s picture,” you mumble to yourself, but Lucas hears you. 

“Do I wanna know?”

You purse your lips. “Let’s focus on figuring out where Will is, then I’ll tell you guys what I’ve been up to this week.” 

“Okay, so,” Mike begins again, now grabbing the board game and flipping it onto its normal, light side. “What if this is Hawkins,” he flips it upside down onto its dark side, “and this is where Will is?” 

“The Upside Down.” You finish for him. 

“The Upside Down.” Mike confirms. 

Slowly Dustin follows along. “Like the Vale of Shadows.”

Somehow you always end up the one confused when it comes to these damn kids. “The Vale of Shadows? What the hell is that?”

Dustin runs over to the bookshelf and pulls out a thick binder full of paper, but as he flips through it you realize it’s a rulebook for Dungeons and Dragons. He lands on the page he’s looking for, and you feel your shoulders drop. Great. More confusing terminology ahead. 

“‘The Vale of Shadows’,” he begins to read, “‘is a dimension that is a dark reflection or echo of our world. It is a place of decay and death. A plane out of phase. A place of monsters’.”

“Wait, didn’t you say something about a monster, Y/N?” Lucas asks, but you shush him so you don't miss whatever else Dustin will say next. 

“‘It is right next to you, and you don’t even see it’.” He finishes. 

His words hang in the air for a moment, but Mike, always somehow three steps ahead, pieces it together. “An alternate dimension.” 

Lucas finally accepts what’s happening. “But how do we get there?” 

“I’m sorry, we?” You look between all three boys, their faces still young and holding the childish innocence that you once had yourself. “No, there’s no ‘we’ in this. I may not know much about alternate dimensions, but there’s no way I’m letting you guys try to find and go to one.”

Mike rolls his eyes at you. “Well what choice do we have? Do you want to tell that mean police chief about this?”

“I…well… I mean-no.” You sink down in the seat, annoyed that Mike is right. No way Hopper believes any of this, you hardly believe any of it. 

“Can we cast shadow walk?” Dustin focuses back on the conversation at hand.

You don’t bother to ask what that means. 

“In real life, dummy.” Lucas reminds him. 

“We can’t shadow walk, but…” Your brother’s eyes land on El, who is still laying on the couch, silent and unmoving. “Maybe she can.”

The four of you turn towards the girl, and Mike voices his own question. “Do you know how we get there? To the Upside Down?”

El meets your eyes, and you can see that she’s hesitant about something. She’s been quieter than usual, almost suspiciously so, and you know that the more Mike figures things out, the more hesitant she becomes. She shakes her head at you, and you give her a sad smile. 

Lucas flings his head back and groans. “Oh my god!”

Mike and Dustin seem to be thinking the same thing, disappointed by El’s lack of help. You don’t blame them, also frustrated by the fact that it feels like you guys are so close to discovering something big. You can feel hope reignite in your chest; you haven’t been this close to an explanation about Will all week. This has to be it. It’s the only way you can explain everything that’s been happening lately. 

Speaking of which:

“Remember how I mentioned Barb and a possible monster?” 

You tell them everything, about Jonathan’s worry for his mom, how their phone got charred by lightning, Hopper’s theory that Will had been running from something, Nancy and Barb attending Steve’s party and how Barb had been on her own near the woods. You tell them about how Barb has been missing ever since and the photos Jonathan took (leaving out the horrible ones of Nancy) that Nancy brought to your attention at the funeral home. The figure in the background, looming over Barb, how it didn’t seem to have a face.

Then you tell them about Joyce and her spiral, though now you know she actually wasn’t crazy. You tell them about the Christmas lights and Will communicating with her through them. How she claimed that she could hear him through the wall and that the body in the quarry hadn’t been him. 

When you’re finally done catching them up, they stare at you with their jaws open. 

“Dustin,” Mike says, “remind me to never leave your sister out ever again.”

“Noted.” 

– 

The events from the day had left El exhausted and she refuses to say anything else after you explain everything to the boys. Her eyes droop while Mike interrogates you for answers you can’t give him, so finally you take pity on the poor girl and tell him that you’ll talk more in the morning. 

Mike isn’t too happy about being shut down, but when you point towards a half asleep El he reluctantly gives in. “Fine, but as soon as the funeral is over we’re discussing this further.”

Right. Will’s funeral is tomorrow. 

“Yeah, sure,” you tuck your hair behind your ears and motion over to Dustin. “We need to go, it’s late and mom will be wondering where we are.” 

He tries to argue with you but you just gather your things and head for the stairs. There’s still a lot you need to think about and a million things you need to sort before the funeral tomorrow. Did Jonathan even buy the coffin? Who had made the arrangements after you and him left the funeral home with Nancy?

There’s a lot you need to talk about when you call him tonight. 

The bike ride home with Lucas and Dustin is a quiet one, both boys understanding that you need some time to think about everything you learned tonight. 

You make a list in your head of what you do know, but it’s a frustratingly short list. 

1) El, one way or another, has powers that enable her to communicate with Will in some weird upside down universe that you can’t actually get to (can you even count this as something you know?)

2) Hopper was right: Will went missing because he was running from something (probably the same faceless thing that’s in Jonathan’s photo). 

3) Whatever took Will also took Barb, bringing Nancy into this wonderfully confusing mess (you still don’t know if her involvement is a good or bad thing). 

Everything else? You have no fucking clue what’s going on. 

When you get home with Dustin, it’s late; the two of you have to sneak past your mom, who fell asleep with Mews on her lap in the living room. Dustin heads straight for his room but you stop him, motioning for him to come into yours for a second. 

“What-”

“Shh!” You quickly shut your door to ensure that your mom won’t hear anything. 

Dustin groans. “I thought you said you weren’t gonna yell at me?”

You roll your eyes at him. “I yell at you guys twice after years of patience, now suddenly I’m a screaming monster,” he doesn’t say anything and flings himself onto the bean bag by your bed. “Anyways, we’re long overdue for a code blue.” 

Your brother shoots up from the bean bag, eyes wide. “No.”

“Yes,” you join him on the bean bag. “Code blue time, we’re going to talk about our feelings after the hellish week we’ve had. C’mon, you know the drill.” 

Code blue was something the two of you came up with when your dad left. You had been twelve when it happened, Dustin had been nine. It’d been a really rough few months for you guys, dealing with the betrayal of your dad while also moving away from your hometown in Virginia all within a year. Neither of you had adjusted well to the sudden changes, and though you were angry and bitter about what had happened, the moment you saw that it was affecting your brother you decided to implement code blue. 

It’s simple, really. Whoever calls for a code blue gets to talk about or ask whatever they want while the other is required to answer. Originally it was so that you could force Dustin into telling you his feelings, but over the years it’s become a way to bond with each other and know that no matter what you’ll be there for one another. No half truths or a vague “I’m fine”; it’s a time for you guys to be vulnerable with one another without using it as leverage against the other. 

Dustin plops his head back down. “Fine, but I’m tired so can this be quick?”

“Hey, no complaining during code blue. That’s like, rule number one.” 

“Y/N.” His tone is one of annoyance and you know that if you don’t start talking soon then you’ll lose his interest.

“Right, sorry. Okay,” you clear your throat and face your brother. “Today’s code blue topic is this: I’m worried about you getting your hopes up about Will. We don’t know that he’s alive just yet.” 

As expected, Dustin is unhappy with what you’ve said. “We do know that he’s alive, I heard him on the heathkit. He’s alive, Y/N.” He sees the uncertainty on your face and doubles down on what he’s saying. “He is.”

You bite your lip, scared that you’ll say the wrong thing. “Dustin, nothing is certain. Even though we’re definitely onto something, and while I believe that you heard Will on the radio, that doesn’t change the fact that there’s something else out there that wants to hurt him. I mean, he’s trapped in some weird alternate dimension that we have no idea how to even get into. I just… I don’t want to see you get hurt again.”

You think about the way your brother’s face fell when they pulled Will’s body out of the water. How the hope that had been in his eyes immediately died alongside his childhood naivety. He had built all of his hope upon a shaky foundation; the moment it collapsed he fell apart. 

“Look I know you’re trying to look out for me, but Will is a part of the party. He’s our friend, we can’t just lose hope and leave him behind. He needs us.” Dustin speaks with so much certainty and an aura of maturity that almost makes you forget that he’s twelve. 

“I’m not saying it’s dangerous to have hope, but I need you to promise me that you’ll protect yourself from whatever happens next. How’s that sound?”

Dustin thinks for a moment, tapping a finger against his chin. “Hmm, I think I can make that deal if you promise the same thing. I mean, c’mon, it’s obvious that you’re the sensitive one out of the two of us. You and hope? Doomed.” 

You laugh, knowing he’s right. You’ve always been branded by hope; hopeful for love, for dreams, and for those who may not always deserve it. You and hope haven’t always gotten along, but she’s become a familiar friend. 

“I think you’ve got yourself a deal. Now, it’s late and I have to call Jonathan and catch him up on everything, so let’s conclude code blue with its mandatory hug.” 

“Woah woah woah, I don’t think we gotta-”

Dustin’s words become muffled as you throw yourself on top of him and squish him into a hug. He squirms against you for a second, claiming he can’t breathe, but you shush him and force him to accept the hug. Though you won’t ever tell him this, losing Will has only made you more appreciative of having a wonderfully annoying little brother. 

After code blue, Dustin goes to his room claiming that “alternate dimensions are super draining”, and before he leaves you tell him to be ready tomorrow by nine for the funeral and that your mom will take him. You’ll be at the Byers’ helping Jonathan. 

Once he’s gone you give yourself a few moments to sit in silence, letting the events from today settle over you. It seems like all you’ve felt this week is exhaustion and hurt and at the rate everything is going, there’s no telling how long you’ll feel this way. 

The moment you’re done wallowing you roll off the bean bag and walk over to your desk to call Jonathan. You’re honestly not sure what you’ll even tell him tonight, there’s no way you’ll be able to cover everything before the night ends. The two of you have a long day tomorrow, so you figure you’ll have to make do with the limited time you have and summarize. 

Jonathan answers after a few rings. “How’d your little secret mission go?”

You make a face. “Is it even a secret mission if I told you I was going on it?”

“It is if you refuse to tell me what you did during it.” 

“Touche, bee.” 

He laughs, which sends a cascading warmth throughout your body. You can envision him perfectly on the other end of the line, leaning against his kitchen wall with the phone wire wrapped around his finger as he absent mindedly fiddles with it while he talks to you. 

You clear your throat and shake the thought from your mind, you called him for a reason. “Anyways… we need to talk.”

Jonathan is silent for a moment and you can feel the playfulness fade away. “Yeah, you first though. You already know what Nance and I were up to.” 

Nance?

Awesome. Cool. Totally not going to be consumed by that later. 

“Right. Uh, well. I went looking for Dustin because the other night when I was with the boys we stumbled upon this, well, this little girl.” 

“A girl?”

“Yeah, she’s bald.”

“Okay… is that important or…?”

“Unsure, but it felt important to tell you. Sorry,” you take a deep breath, “I’m not sure why I’m so nervous right now.”

“It’s okay, bug. It’s me, you can tell me anything.” 

No I can’t.

“Sure, yeah, totally. Um, so anyways we found her, her name is El, and she’s our only connection to Will right now.”

A beat of silence. “What do you mean?”

“Well, she kinda has… powers?”

“Powers,”

“Powers.”

You hear Jonathan sigh on the other end of the call. “Bug, you’re not seriously telling me that the boys have somehow dragged you into one of their little schemes, right?”

Yeah, he’s reacting exactly how you figured he would. 

“I know what it sounds like, but Jonathan… How else would you explain everything going on? Will disappeared, Barb did too, your mom and her lights. Now that thing Nancy saw in the woods, which I know you definitely have an update that will only further prove how weird this all is.”

Again Jonathan is quiet, and this time you envision him pacing little circles in the kitchen as he carefully thinks through your words, trying to piece it all together. “We developed the photo again and you’re right, there’s something behind Barb in it.” 

You close your eyes and exhale. “So, you believe me now?”

“Guess I don’t really have a choice.”

“You don’t.” 

“Then we’ll talk about it after the funeral tomorrow.” He concedes. 

“Yeah,” you let out a shaky breath, “the funeral. I’ll make my way over the second I wake up tomorrow to help with everything.” 

“You don’t have to-”

“I know.” 

More silence settles over the two of you. It’s still hard to wrap your head around the fact that it was only a week ago where everything was normal. No disappearances, no weird feelings, no heartbreak and confusion. 

“Bug?” Jonathan is practically whispering. 

“Yeah?”

“Lonnie is here.”

The words hit you hard. Why the fuck is Lonnie back in Hawkins? “Do you need to spend the night? I can finally bake those cookies for your mom and we can watch whatever you want.” 

“No,” he sounds exhausted. “He hasn’t been a problem yet, and I can’t…” 

“Leave your mom with him?” You finish. 

“He thinks she’s crazy and her axing down one of our walls doesn’t help-”

So you were right, Joyce did indeed break down her wall to try and get to Will.

“Jonathan, it’s okay. I understand, stay with her and get some rest. Sleep, that’s an order.”

He lets out a weak laugh. “I love you, bug.” 

Like how I love you?

“I love you too, bee.” The words burn your tongue. 

“Goodnight,”

“Sleep well.”

– 

You’re up before the sun this morning.

You spent hours tossing and turning last night, hardly getting any sleep. No matter how hard you tried, you couldn’t seem to turn your mind off. All you could think about was Jonathan, his smile and his voice and the way he kisses your forehead whenever you’ve done something especially endearing to him. You were surrounded by him last night. 

Now you stand outside his front door holding a tin of cookies, dressed in a simple knitted black dress and tights with mary janes that used to belong to your mom for Will’s funeral. The shoes are your favorite, but now you’re afraid they’re tainted by the occasion you’re wearing them for. 

It’s Lonnie who opens the door. “Well if it isn’t little miss Henderson. I missed ya, sweetheart.” 

You haven’t seen the man in two years, having been fourteen when he left Joyce and the kids. Since then he’s only aged horribly, his eyes slightly yellowed and his beer gut now more prominent. Clearly he still prefers alcohol over human company. Figures. 

“Can’t say the same about you.” Your shoulder hits his as you walk in and he lets out an annoyed huff. 

The man follows you but you pay him no attention. Instead you head straight towards Joyce and the second she sees you she runs into your arms; you only have a few seconds to place down the cookies before she’s in your arms. 

“Y/N! You’re here!” She squeezes you tight and you melt into her embrace. She’s always given the best hugs whenever you’ve needed the comfort, but now it’s your turn to be the one offering the support. 

“Of course, Mrs. Byers. Who else will make sure Jonathan is ready on time?” You mean for it to be a joke, but the way that Joyce’s eyes harden tells you that the funeral is a sore topic for her. She still doesn’t believe that Will is dead and it breaks your fucking heart that you can’t tell her she’s right. 

Joyce wipes away a tear before pulling away. She goes to say something before seeing the tin of cookies on the counter; she immediately pulls you into another hug. “Oatmeal raisin,” 

“They’re your favorite.”

“And Will’s.”

“And Will’s favorite. You know I gotta take care of my Byers.” You whisper into her ear, feeling Lonnie’s eyes on you during the exchange. You have to bite back your tongue, though his presence always makes you feel a type of anger that’s normally foreign to you. 

Joyce pulls away and you know it’s taking everything in her to give you a smile. “You’re too good, sweetie,” she tucks a loose strand of hair that came out of its braid. “Jonathan’s in his room.” 

You grab her hand and give it a squeeze, trying to convey just how much you love and admire her into a simple gesture, before letting go and walking over to Jonathan’s door. 

He’s struggling with his tie when you let yourself in. He’s dressed in the only nice white button down he owns, something he bought for his aunt’s funeral a few years ago that now hardly fits. You can tell that he’s getting frustrated with the tie, so you walk over and help. 

“Here, let me,” you wrap your fingers around the piece of cloth and quickly fashion it into a tie. The two of you don’t talk while you fix the clothing and you know that today will be a wordless day with Jonathan. 

When you’ve finished, you begin to pull away before he places his hands around yours. He cups your hands at the base of his neck as they rest against his collarbones; your fingers are still wrapped around his tie. He squeezes your hands and brings them to his lips and kisses your knuckles so softly that you feel all the love within you simmer.

You know he’s only trying to express his gratitude for you but the butterflies in your stomach make you feel faint. 

You’d do anything for him. 

– 

The funeral has a surprising turnout, not because you ever doubted Will’s incredible ability to be loved by anyone he meets, but because you see faces in the crowd who you’ve never seen before. 

You stand behind Jonathan during the funeral with your hand on his shoulder as he sits with his family in a weak attempt to provide comfort during the service. It’s really fucking bleak. Your other hand is on Dustin’s shoulder as he stands next to you while Mike and Lucas are to the right of him.

Your mother is in the back of the crowd having known she’d cry the entire service, and faintly you can hear her blow her nose into a tissue and sniffle. 

The pastor drones on for a while about how a tragedy like this won’t separate everyone from God’s love, but if attending the funeral for a twelve year old boy is how God shows his love then you want no part in it. Joyce sits stoic alongside Lonnie, Jonathan hasn’t moved at all since the service began; they’re a family brought together by grief. This isn’t love. 

“Just wait until we tell Will that Jennifer Hayes was crying at his funeral,” Dustin snickers, effectively breaking you from your thoughts. You hit his shoulder and shush him as Mrs. Wheeler reminds the boys to be quiet. You flash her an apologetic smile for your brother’s actions. 

You know how firmly the boys believe Will is alive and you honestly can’t say you don’t think so as well, but nothing is certain. Even if he’s alive there’s no way you guys can get to wherever he is; you wish the boys would use some caution with how quickly they’re building their hopes up. 

After the service you walk up to Will’s grave and bend down. You bring one of the yellow roses from the funeral director up to your lips and whisper, “If you’re out there little bee, please, come home.”

Before dropping the rose in you give it a gentle kiss, inhaling its sweet scent and watching as it falls down onto his coffin. Jonathan finds you there crouched down and sees the rose right as it lands. He doesn’t say anything, he just grabs your hand and helps you stand up to bring you over to where Nancy is waiting a couple yards away. 

“Hey, Y/N.” 

You don’t have it in you to do anything other than wave at the girl, but she seems to understand and gives you a sympathetic smile. 

Soon the three of you are settled on the ground with your backs against an old rickety fence behind some tombstones. Jonathan is in the middle of you and Nancy and you rest your head against his shoulder, already exhausted from the day. It’s not the coziest spot to be sitting, but at least you’re away from prying eyes. 

Once you’re seated, Jonathan finally talks for the first time today. “Alright, I already told you this over the phone last night bug, but Nancy was right. After we redeveloped the photo there’s definitely some kind of figure behind Barb, and we thought maybe if my mom has been right all along about some monster-”

“Then she’s right about Will being alive.” You finish for him, having already come to the same conclusion yourself.

“And Barb has to be alive if Will is.” Nancy says, and there’s a spark of hope in her voice that surprises you. You’re ashamed to admit that you didn’t think her and Barb were that close, but seeing how worried she’s been for the girl makes you realize that you’d been a fool not to have seen it sooner. Barb was Nancy’s closest friend. You don’t know what you’d do if Jonathan ever disappeared like Barb did. 

Jonathan pushes your head with his shoulder. “Anything you want to share with the class?”

You look between him and Nancy and try to decide how much you should tell them. While you’ve already told Jonathan a little bit about El, you’re not sure if you can trust the information with Nancy. However, seeing her urgency to find her friend leaves you feeling a bit safer disclosing the information to her. 

“It started the night after Will disappeared…”

It takes a while to tell them everything, and while Jonathan butts in a few times to ask questions, Nancy remains silent and eagerly listens. She nods when she’s supposed to, engages with the story as if her life depends on it. You’re incredibly impressed by her intelligence and openness to the situation at hand. Had it been anyone else they would’ve scoffed at you and called you insane. But Nancy? She holds onto every word and trusts that what you’re saying is true. 

You’re starting to admire her, as painful as it is to admit. But Nancy Wheeler is fucking brilliant, there’s no denying that. 

When you’re finally done explaining El and the Upside Down, Nancy finally speaks. “Let me make sure I’m understanding correctly, you’ve been helping my brother harbor a girl with superpowers in my basement?”

Huh. 

You hadn’t thought of it that way. 

“Ya know, you make a good point.”

Thankfully she laughs and doesn’t seem too upset, which relieves you. You reassure her that they’re fine and that El is someone you trust, and Nancy seems to take comfort in your words. It’s not that you purposely hid the situation from her, but looking back you definitely could’ve used her help now that you know how cool she is. 

As the two of you are laughing, Jonathan pulls out a piece of paper. 

“What’s that?” You ask. 

He shows you. “I printed out a map of Hawkins and drew x’s on every place we know for sure the monster has been.” 

“Two questions: one, so we’re officially calling it the monster now? And two, why don’t you ever put in this much effort for school projects we do together?” 

Jonathan flicks the paper in your face. “Funny. And yes, we’re calling it the monster now. Can you pay attention please?”

“Sorry,”

Nancy shuffles in closer and her head is practically on Jonathan’s shoulder as well (you’re choosing to ignore that) and she studies the paper and points to one of the x’s. “So that’s-”

“Steve’s house,” Jonathan points to another x, “and that’s the woods where they found Will’s bike and where Y/N last saw him,” the familiar feeling of guilt washes over you, “and that’s my house.” 

Nancy reaches over Jonathan and grabs your hand, surprising you both. “You saw Will last?”

“Yeah,” you swallow, your mouth now suddenly dry. 

“I’m sorry,” her tone is sincere.

“We should get back to the map…” You dodge, highly uncomfortable with Nancy’s comfort. You appreciate it, but you’ve never been good at accepting help from others. 

“Right, sorry,” Nancy clears her throat. “The x’s, they’re all so close.”

Jonathan observes the interaction with slight confusion but decides not to say anything besides, “Yeah, exactly. I mean, it’s all within a mile or something. Whatever this thing is, it’s not traveling far.”

There’s a look in his eyes as he speaks, one of determination and disdain for whatever that thing is, and before you can tell him no, it’s Nancy who voices your concern first. “You want to go out there.”

Jonathan nods and you feel uneasy. “I trust you won’t try going alone again, right?” It’s a question, but he hears the underlying try and I’ll kill you hidden beneath your words.

“No, not this time… but we might not find anything.” 

“I found something,” Nancy reminds him, which you nod at. She’s the only one out of the three of you who has seen the monster in person, and if you had to place any bets, she’s the one who will be able to figure out what the fuck to do with it. 

Actually, what are you guys going to do?

“Do we, like, have a plan for after we’re done monster sightseeing? Or are we just going to take a look at it and call it a night?” You ask the two of them. 

Nancy bites her lip and looks down, also unsure what exactly the three of you are supposed to do. It’s Jonathan who remains stone faced, and there’s a newfound sense of confidence within him that you’ve never seen when he boldly states, “We kill it.”

“Alright there tough guy,” you hit his chest with your hand and snort. “Sure, we kill it. Obviously.”

“Well, do you have any other ideas? For all we know, Mike and the others will be out there in those woods later looking for Will.”

“We don’t know that-”

“Bug, humor me, how did they find El again?”

You’re silent. He’s right, if you guys don’t go and find this monster before tonight then there’s a high chance the boys and El will find it themselves. Fuck. 

“Nancy,” you say to the girl, “it seems like we’re now officially monster hunters.”

– 

Of course Lonnie has a goddamn handgun just casually stored in his glove box.

You’re not entirely on board with this whole gun situation and apparently Nancy isn’t either, immediately questioning Jonathan when he picks the lock to get the gun.

“What, you want to find this thing and take another photo? Yell at it? Better yet, why doesn’t Y/N just round up the boys and El and have them take it down.”  

“Okay, hey,” you point at Jonathan. “Out of line.” 

He mumbles an apology under his breath while Nancy claims that this is all a terrible idea. You’re not sure where you fall in regards to what’s happening, but you’d say at the moment you’re a solid mix between Jonathan’s no time for nonsense mood and Nancy’s hey let’s slow down hesitation. 

You kick a rock and watch as it dings against Lonnie’s car, which pleases you. “Oh it’s definitely a terrible idea, Nancy. Unfortunately it’s all we have going for us at the moment.” 

Jonathan nods at your words. “She’s right, no one’s going to believe us if we tell them. You know that.” 

“Your mom would.” Nancy responds, jutting her jaw out in defiance. 

You cringe, unsure how Jonathan will respond to what she’s said. Joyce is a sore topic for him, he’s always been so protective of her.

“She’s been through enough,” he sighs, and you hum in agreement. 

Nancy grows more frustrated. “She deserves to know!”

You step in between them. “Look, you’re right. Mrs. Byers deserves to know, but right now she isn’t well enough to handle the idea of her only remaining son actively seeking out a monster that may have taken her other son who could possibly be alive. If we’re wrong or Jonathan gets hurt, it might actually kill her.”

“Yeah, we’ll tell her when this thing is dead.” You note Jonathan’s word choice, saying “when” instead of “if”. In the four years you’ve been his friend, you’ve never seen him so self-assured before. You’d be proud of him if the circumstances weren’t so damn grim. 

“What about the kids?” Nancy finally says after a few seconds of silence. 

“They can’t get involved, I won’t let them.” You tell her and she nods as if expecting you’d say that. 

She gestures over to the funeral home where the crowd of attendees are now gathered for the post burial service. “I know my brother, so you better go and tell him that they need to stay at our house while we deal with the monster. They like you better than they like me, they’ll listen to you if you explain what we’re doing.” 

You’re flattered by her words, honestly. Mike, Dustin, and Lucas listening to you about staying put while you guys go monster hunting? They’d be out the door before you’d be even able to finish saying the phrase “monster hunting”. No way they’ll listen, and you’re about to say exactly that before catching the look Jonathan is giving you. 

You groan at him. “You don’t actually believe they’ll listen to me, right? C’mon, you know those boys as well as I do. This is just a giant DnD game for them at this point.” 

He shrugs, “It doesn’t hurt to try?”

Nancy gives you a hopeful look and bats her eyelashes at you, which, okay, shouldn’t work on you but does. Jonathan does the same, except instead of batting his eyelashes he winks at you and suddenly you’re very confused by the onslaught of emotions that wash over you.

“Ugh, fine. But when they show up in the woods later you guys are on your own!” 

– 

When you step inside the service hall, everyone is gathered into small groups talking amongst themselves. You scan the room for the kids and spot them across the room sitting at a table with Mr. Clark. He’s talking to them about something while holding a paper plate up. You’re not sure what exactly he’s saying to the boys, but they’re leaning in close to him and are listening intently. 

This worries you. 

You try to make your way over as quickly as you can, but being Jonathan’s best friend has some challenges. Every few steps you take you’re stopped by an extended family member of the Byers to ask how you are or a stranger stops to offer you their condolences because you’re close with the family. You do your best to make small talk and thank the people, but you don’t have time to say much else besides, “thank you” or “you were Will’s favorite great aunt”.

By the time you finally get to the table with Mr. Clark and the boys, the man has folded up the paper plate and stabs it with a pen. You really, really don’t want to know whatever the hell this man is explaining to the kids. 

“You create a doorway,” he explains, holding up the plate and smiling at the boys. 

Dustin looks enthralled. “Like a gate?”

“Sure, like a gate. But again, this is all-”

“Theoretical.” Lucas says, nodding his head.

A gate?

What are the odds the boys are talking about a gate to Disneyland?

You sigh, not liking the odds at all.

You slide yourself into Dustin’s chair and force your brother to share with you. He squeaks in surprise and you flash him a tight lipped smile, which causes him to gulp. He knows he’s been busted. 

Mike scoffs at your arrival. “Gee, wonder why you’re here Y/N.”

“Go on, continue this conversation with Mr. Clark here. I wanna hear it.” 

Mr. Clark looks at you uncertainly but Mike simply carries on with the conversation as if you aren’t even here. “But what if this gate already existed?”

“Well, if it did I think we’d know.”

You snort. “Wanna bet?”

Again the man looks at you uncertainly and clears his throat, uncomfortable by your presence. “What I mean to say is that it would disrupt gravity, the magnetic field, our environment.”

“So if there is a gate, it’d be really bad?” You ask, but you already know the answer. 

“Oh, definitely. It might even swallow us up whole!” 

You and the boys look around the table at one another, not at all liking what Mr. Clark is saying. Swallow you guys up whole? That’s not really something you’re interested in. 

Mr. Clark sees your nervousness and shrugs. “Science is neat, but it’s not very forgiving.”

Silence falls upon the table. 

Mr. Clark is such a peachy person.

“Well!” You throw your hands upon the table and the loud noise causes everyone to flinch. “Thank you so much for that lovely information, Mr. Clark. It was truly riveting, but would you mind giving me and the boys a second alone? I just, I want to make sure they’re doing okay after today.” 

You bat your eyes at the man, something you never do, and he clears his throat and excuses himself. The second he’s gone you snap your finger in the boys’ faces. “Hey, listen up. Whatever you guys are planning? Don’t.”

As usual, Mike is the one who argues. “But-”

“No.”

“You don’t even know what we’re-”

“No.”

“Can you at least let me-”

“Sure,”

“Really?”

“No.”

Lucas and Dustin watch the interaction with slight pleasure, amused by your ability to shut Mike up, but when he turns to them for help they reluctantly give in. 

“Y/N,” Dustin sighs, “honestly, how many times are we gonna do this whole ‘we’re not allowed but we’re going to do it anyways’ bit?” 

You glare at your brother. “However many times it takes for you guys to finally listen.”

“Cool. Then we’ll expect you to bust down Mike’s door later tonight.”

“I’m not kidding,” you face all the kids and make sure they’re listening. “Whatever you’re trying to do, don’t. Jonathan and I-”

“You told Jonathan?” Mike exclaims but Lucas shushes him. 

“We’re going to handle it, we already have a plan but whatever you do: stay out of the woods from here on out. We think… We think there’s a monster out there hiding. I just want to make sure you guys are safe.”

“Monster hunting?” Dustin’s eyes light up and you silently curse Jonathan and Nancy for even suggesting you do this in the first place.

“Technically… yes, but you guys absolutely have to stay put.”

They stare at you as if you’re insane.

“You do realize who you’re talking to, right?” Dustin asks. 

You flick his head. “Yes, and I’m putting a lot of trust in you guys right now. I’ll let you guys do whatever you want so long as it doesn’t include the woods. Until you get an all clear from me, it’s off limits.” 

Mike thinks this over. “Can we look for the gate then?”

You sigh. There’s no other way to appease them. “If you don’t go near the woods… then fine.”

The boys begin to cheer, which causes several funeral guests to stare at you with judgment. You realize now that this probably hadn’t been the right setting to have this conversation in. Oh well.

You don’t let the boys cheer for long. “However-”

“There she goes,” Lucas sinks into his seat and squeezes his eyes shut. 

“I get full updates whenever I please. I don’t care if I have to track you guys down from the gates of hell itself, but I will find you and you will tell me everything. Deal?”

Lucas, Dustin, and Mike gather close together and duck their heads down so whisper to one another. You roll your eyes but wait for them to finish. When they’ve reached a decision, Mike interlocks his fingers and places his hands on the table. “You’ve got yourself a deal.” 

– 

As soon as you’ve changed out of your funeral clothes and into a simple pair of jeans and a sweater, Jonathan arrives at your house. You kiss your mom’s cheek before leaving and shout over your shoulder, “Remember the deal, Dustin!” 

You don’t quite catch what your brother responds with but you honestly don’t care enough as you run over to Jonathan’s car and hop into the passenger seat. 

“You certainly didn’t waste any time getting here,” you say in lieu of a hello. 

Jonathan shrugs. “No time to waste when it comes to monster hunting.”

“You do realize that we’re only scouting out the woods tonight, right?” 

You, Jonathan, and Nancy had decided earlier to simply go and explore the woods for any clues of the monster and then figure out how, or even if, you can kill it. 

“I know, but monster hunting sounds cooler.”

“Bless you, bee.” 

The two of you get to the field in no time. Jonathan had been the one to suggest the spot a few yards behind his house for target practice and Nancy had agreed to bring a bat just in case you needed more protection. 

And you?

You’re bringing the cans to serve as targets for shooting. Your family has never owned a gun and last time you checked, Dustin doesn’t play any sports, so all you can offer is your emptied recycling bin contents. 

It doesn’t take long for you and Jonathan to set up the cans on top of the tree trunks before he begins shooting. Jonathan takes a deep breath and holds the gun up so it’s eye level and looks over at you. “Ready?”

You take a deep breath as well and prepare yourself, knowing it’s about to become loud. “Yeah, start shootin cowboy.” 

The first shot hits a tree behind the can, nowhere near its intended target, and you wince. It’s looking like the monster might actually win at the rate Jonathan’s aim is going. 

“It’s okay,” you tell your friend. “The tree looked at me funny, he had it coming.” 

Jonathan snorts. “You’re laughing now, but I can’t exactly hunt a monster if I can’t even shoot it.” 

“Maybe you could talk nicely to it?”

“And say what, exactly? ‘Hey, Mr. Monster, where are you hiding my brother?’”

You step closer to him so that you’re now side by side and you nudge his shoulder. “Hey, you never know. It could work.”

Jonathan readjusts his grip on the gun and aims it once more. He takes another shot, this time it lands a bit closer to the can, but not by much. He lets out an agitated, “Fuck!”

He tries shooting again and again but each shot is as unpredictable as the last. After his sixth round of firing you can see how tense his shoulders are and the way he’s clenching his fists against the weapon. You remember how he acted earlier today, the newfound anger and resentment within Jonathan that had originally impressed you. Now it only frightens you. 

When he goes to re-aim the gun for the seventh time, you grab at his hand and stop him. 

“Bug, what are you-”

“Let’s go for a walk.” 

Jonathan looks at you like you’re crazy but you simply take the gun from his hands, click the safety back on, and then walk over to the tree stumps to rest it against one of them. When you’re done you walk back over to the boy and interlock your fingers with his to drag him along. 

There’s not a whole bunch of room in the clearing for a walk per say, but there’s enough to go a few laps around for Jonathan to take a breather. You’re not sure exactly what’s going on with him but a walk has never hurt anyone. 

Jonathan’s silent the first lap around. You’re content with this and you admire the fall weather and enjoy the slight warmth from the sun as it kisses your face. When you’re on the third lap you decide to ask a question that’s been on your mind since yesterday when Nancy showed up at the funeral home. 

“Do you really believe Will is alive?”

Jonathan thinks the question over for a moment, and as he’s lost in thought you notice that he begins gently swinging your hands back and forth absentmindedly. “I can still feel him.”

“Feel him?”

“Yeah, I know it sounds crazy but…”

“No, I think I get it. I mean, I’d be able to feel if something bad happened to Dustin. I know I’d be able to, even if there’s not necessarily a science behind it. It’s like there’s a lifeline connecting us, like some unspoken sibling thread that neither one of us can sever.”

“A sibling thread?” Jonathan asks, a slight laugh accompanying his question. 

“Oh, you know what I mean, bee.” 

“No, no. I wanna hear all about this thread theory of yours.” 

Jonathan’s bright mood is back, reminiscent of the boy you once believed you knew better than you knew yourself, so you entertain his teasing if only to sustain his light a little longer. “If I explain this theory you have to promise not to laugh at me.”

“I promise,” he says and he gives your hand a light squeeze. 

“Alright, but if you decide I’m insane after this, just know that you legally cannot leave me. You signed a contract.” 

“Oh, did I?”

“You sure did, bee. Anyways, back to me,” a slight breeze surrounds you for a moment and you let the crisp air fill your lungs. “I have this theory that we’re all connected to each other in some way by different threads. Some threads are older than others, stronger, or maybe even more rigid, but they’re there. Whether it’s a thread between you and your family, the love of your life, or a stranger you happen to pass on the street one day, none of it happens by accident.” 

“The threads are the reason it all happens?”

“Not necessarily, but yeah. To put it simply, I guess you could say that.” 

“So, for our thread,” Jonathan stops walking and tugs at you to stop as well. “After everything we’ve been through, all that we’ve done for one another, what thread would you say our’s is?”

His question catches you off guard; you can hear your heart beating within your chest. There’s so many things you wish you could tell him.

Our thread is one of romance, of lovers, of soulmates, even. 

The feelings build within you and the words threaten to spill out. The November sun is beginning to set and everything is golden in its light and Jonathan is a part of it all. His brown eyes are like warm honey on a cold winter morning and his hair is slightly ruffled from the wind that leaves his cheeks flushed and rosy. 

“Our thread,” your voice catches in your throat for a moment. “You know what our thread is, bee.”

He pulls you closer to him and in this moment all you can focus on are the slight freckles that dot across his face and neck. “Do I?”

Jonathan has never, ever looked at you like this before. There’s an intensity within his eyes that frightens you and leaves you feeling bare before him. Does he know? Has he figured it all out?

“I…” You can’t form the words you want to say; the three words that have been weighing upon you feel even heavier than before. They’re thick on your tongue, syrupy and dense and you feel as if you can’t breathe.

“Y/N?” He whispers, but you can only shake your head. 

It’s too much. It’s all too much. 

And then suddenly Jonathan leans in. 

Maybe you’re imagining it. 

Maybe you’re delirious after almost a week of sleepless nights and exhausting encounters. 

Or maybe, just maybe, he feels the same way about you. 

You lean in as well and allow yourself to close your eyes; you believe that just this once you can be selfish and accept more than you may deserve.

“Hey! Guys!”

Nancy’s shout causes you and Jonathan to spring apart. 

You want to scream. 

Of course it’s Nancy fucking Wheeler. 

Jonathan drops your hand and waves the girl over while you stand there, trying to collect yourself. As she walks over, you have just enough pride left over to say, “You know I’d do anything for you, right?”

The question is one Jonathan isn’t expecting. He steps back a bit, now even more aware of the close proximity the two of you had only seconds ago. “Of course I do, bug. You’re my best friend.”

Best friend. 

The words hurt more than they should, really. 

“Right. Best friend, ha.” You step even further away from Jonathan, which he raises his eyebrows at. 

“Did I miss something or…?”

If you had the time, you’d ask him why he wanted to know about the thread between the two of you. Why he looks at you like you’re the most precious thing in the entire room. Why, just minutes ago, he leaned in as if to kiss you. 

But Nancy is now only a couple feet away and it wouldn’t be fair to ask her to give the two of you some privacy. You spot the bat in her hand and it serves as a reminder of what the three of you are here for in the first place. 

Will, Barb, the monster. 

“No, of course not,” you clear your throat and greet Nancy as she arrives. “Hey, Nancy.”

She smiles at you and then says hello to Jonathan. “Hey, where’s the gun?”

You point over to the cans and the tree stumps. “Over there, we just wanted to go for a little walk after shooting a few rounds.”

Nancy nods and walks over to inspect the undamaged cans. “You said you already shot a few rounds?”

Jonathan ducks his head down. “Yeah, well. It’s not as easy as it looks in the movies.” 

“Y/N, did you try shooting?” 

“Pfft, I’m definitely not a weapons kind of girl. I prefer to use my crippling good looks instead.”

While you and Nancy talk, Jonathan walks back over to the gun and reloads it. He motions for the two of you to step back and he shoots a few more times. Not once does he hit the can. You pinch the bridge of your nose and sigh. 

“You’re awful at this, bee.”

“Yeah,” Nancy agrees.

Jonathan looks over at her. “Have you ever shot a gun before?”

She scoffs. “Have you met my parents?”

“I don’t know, Mrs. Wheeler seems like the type to have a hidden gun.” You say, and Nancy waves you off. 

“Well, I haven’t shot one since I was ten. My dad took me hunting on my birthday and made me kill a rabbit.” Jonathan’s words make you frown. Every day he gives you another reason to hate Lonnie. 

Nancy sympathizes with Jonathan and the two of them fall into an easy banter that you’ve never seen before with him. He’s comfortable around her in a way that makes your stomach twist. He tells her about his parents and how they may have loved each other at one point but now no longer do. He’s opening up to her after only a few days of really knowing her. 

Lovely. 

Nancy shares some details about her own family and how she believes her parents never loved each other, which you can relate to. You watch as Jonathan hands her the gun as she explains how her mom had been younger than her father. “He had a cushy job, money, came from a good family. So, they bought a nice house at the end of a cul-de-sac and started their nuclear family.”

“Isn’t it funny how the fathers never seem to suffer the same fate as the mothers?” You ask, and Nancy looks over at you in confusion, so you explain further. “My own parents, they were like yours except the moment my mom was no longer young, my dad left. Found a newer and cheaper model back home in Virginia.” 

“I didn’t know that, I’m sorry Y/N.” 

You shrug. “It’s not like I go and advertise it. Besides, he was an asshole anyways and my mom is better off without him. She’s the sweetest woman in the world who was forced to run back to her family in Hawkins. Nuclear families aren’t all they’re cracked out to be.”

Jonathan ruffles your hair to get you to laugh, which he succeeds in doing. “Screw that.”

 Nancy raises the gun to eye level and closes one of her eyes, her beautiful face now scrunched in concentration. “Yeah, screw that.”

And with that, she shoots a perfectly aimed shot and knocks the can off the stump. You and Jonathan look at her, stunned, but she can only laugh. 

“Damn, Jonathan. Remind me to never piss Nancy off.” You say, still staring at the fallen can. 

Only he doesn’t hear what you’ve said because he’s too busy staring at Nancy. You can tell he’s impressed by her hidden shooting talent and the way she holds herself with such confidence. His eyes shine as he stares at her and he almost seems to come to life whenever she looks back at him. 

Jonathan looks at Nancy and you know he sees what everyone in Hawkins sees: a beautiful, fierce, and incredible girl. 

Nancy Wheeler, the perfect enigma.

Suddenly it clicks. 

Jonathan is in love with her, or at least he’s beginning to fall in love with her. 

You want to hate her. Afterall, she already has Harrington head over heels for her, and yet you can’t blame either one of the boys. She’s perfect and brilliant and everything you’re not. You’d fall in love with her too if you weren’t already in love with someone else. 

You watch as Nancy and Jonathan become lost in their own little world, him helping her reload the gun as she flashes him a shy smile, and you no longer exist near their presence. It feels like a fucking stab to your already open wound of a heart. You watch the way he ducks his head down whenever she looks at him and the way she stares at him when he isn’t looking. 

Nancy shoots a few more rounds and each shot feels like a hammer coming down onto your own coffin. Each time Jonathan looks at her you feel another nail enter. 

Clearly there’s no room for you here. 

Which is fucking ironic given that you’re in a giant field outside. 

You reach for Jonathan’s hand and tug him forward. He gives you a look as if asking is everything okay? and you wish more than ever that things were different between the two of you. You give him a soft shake of the head. “I can feel a headache coming on and I just remembered that I have a shift tonight, so I should get going.” 

He frowns. “But what about the monster? We can’t look for him without you.”

“You’ll be fine without me,” to your horror you can feel tears forming, which you quickly wipe away before Jonathan can notice. “I doubt I’d be any help, anyways. I suck with guns. Nancy’s the professional here.” 

“I mean, I guess, but…” He looks over at Nancy, who is busy firing the gun and hitting every target she aims for, before pulling you even closer to him. “Are we okay? I feel like, I don’t know… like I’m losing you.”

Your breath catches in your throat. He could never, ever lose you, but if you don’t leave now then you’re afraid that maybe you’ll lose yourself. 

“Don’t be silly, bee. You’re not losing me, no matter how much you may want me to.” You try to tease him, but your heart isn’t in it. 

“You didn’t answer my question, Y/N. Are we okay?” He’s looking at you with so much adoration and concern in his eyes that it almost makes you sick. 

“Of course we are. I promise. I think it’s all just catching up to me, if I’m being honest. Between finding Will and tracking down my own brother, I think this monster hunting business may break me.” 

Jonathan eyes you for a moment as if to try and catch you in a lie, but while you’re only telling him this as an excuse to get away from him and Nancy, it’s not technically a lie. You are exhausted. Plus, you really do have a shift. 

The boy scans your face once more before deciding that you’re telling the truth. You know he suspects there’s something else behind your words, but thankfully he doesn’t pry. “Let me tell Nance that I’m driving you home,” 

And there it is again. 

Nance.

The nickname is like a punch to your gut and only solidifies that you should go. “It’s okay, bee. It’s still nice out, figured I’d walk home and get some sun before winter officially takes over Hawkins.” 

“You can’t expect me to let you walk alone now that we know there’s a monster out there taking people, bug.” 

You kiss his cheek, letting your lips linger for a little longer than necessary. “I’ll be careful, I promise. Stay with Nancy and call me tonight after you guys are done scouting around. We’ll figure out where to go from there. Okay?”

You don’t give Jonathan time to argue because you pull away and inform Nancy of your departure. She also frowns at the idea but has already learned that you’re not one to be told what to do. She understands this aspect of you, and you understand it within her as well, so she wishes you goodbye and tells you to stay safe before going back to shooting.

As you leave, you feel Jonathan’s eyes follow after you. 

– 

The walk ends up being more than enough to clear your head. You haven’t had any time to be alone in god knows how long, so it’s nice to have some time to just think and enjoy the quiet. There’s a lot you need to think about, but at the very forefront of your concerns are Will and El. You still have no idea how they’re connected or how the monster comes into play.

Then there’s Steve, oddly enough. 

You’re not really sure why he’s in the midst of your thoughts, but there he is. Smiling at you and laughing at your jokes and telling you that you’re pretty as he instills a carefree sense within you that feels foreign to enjoy. 

As his words ring through your head, you find your thoughts drifting towards Jonathan and the way he holds your hand every time you’re worried about something and the way he kisses your hair after a particularly hard day.

You’re not sure why the two boys almost seem to clash within your mind, but you don’t have time to look into it. Your shift starts soon and god knows how long your coworker Alex can survive on his own if you’re late. 

Work is slow as usual tonight, but you find the downtime a pleasant relief. It gives you the opportunity to skim some new books that shipped in and catch up on some Spidey storylines. In between stocking books and arranging comic displays you find yourself wondering just how true to his word Dustin stayed earlier. 

Like hell those kids really stayed out of the woods. 

Your question is answered as soon as you get home and find your brother crying in his room. Panic immediately swells within your chest and you run over to him.

“What’s wrong?” You check Dustin’s body for any sign of injury and he lets you as he cries, too upset to wave you away. When you’re assured that he’s okay, you feel your heartbeat calm down again. 

Christ, everytime you see this kid he takes ten damn years off of your life. 

You pull a chair from his desk and sit in front of him. “Dustin, do we need to have another code blue?”

“Maybe,” Dustin sniffles, wiping away a few tears. 

“Okay, then code blue. What happened? Is everyone okay? Is it El?” At the mention of the girl’s name, Dustin flinches. Your blood runs cold. “Dustin, what happened with El?” 

“You won’t yell at me?”

You smooth down his always wild hair. “Never during code blue. Please talk to me, bud.”

Dustin explains how he and the group had gone looking for the gate like they told you they would. He explained how they’d followed the train tracks throughout Hawkins for what seemed like hours. 

“The train tracks that go through the same woods I told you not to go in?”

“Like hell we were gonna listen to you.” 

“Yeah, I know.”

This gets Dustin to laugh a bit, which you’re relieved to see, before he continues his story. When he reveals El’s weird behavior and the way she seemed to be hiding something from them, you feel dread creep in. “Did she… Did she do something to prevent you guys from finding the gate?”

“She used her powers to mess with the compass. Lucas found the blood on her jacket.”

You sense that there’s more. “And then?”

“Mike and Lucas… they-they started fighting.” Dustin’s voice breaks, “they started really going at it, and I tried to stop them. I swear I tried, Y/N!”

“Shh,” you reach for his hand to try and calm him down. “I know you did, but I also know how Mike can get when he’s protective of someone and I know that Lucas isn’t El’s biggest fan. It was a recipe for disaster.”

Dustin snorts, “No kidding.” Then his face darkens once more, “but they wouldn’t listen, and that’s when El screamed.” 

“She screamed?”

“I think she was overwhelmed, but she used her powers on Lucas and flung him across the yard and he hit his head pretty hard…”

“She what-”

“She didn’t mean to! She looked really upset after, and Lucas was fine after he woke up-”

“He was knocked unconscious?”

“And then he stormed off and El ran off. We searched for her, but…” 

You stare at your brother in shock. That definitely hadn’t been what you were expecting. El never struck you as a violent girl, but she knocked Lucas out with her mind. Sure, she may have been trying to break up the fight, but you’re willing to bet that she lost control for a moment and Lucas ended up getting hurt as a result.

Maybe you don’t want superpowers. 

“Y/N, have I lost all my friends?” Dustin asks. 

You shush him once more. “No, of course not. You three boys have always been so drastically different from one another, and this week has been one from pure hell. It makes sense that Lucas and Mike finally snapped, but I promise you that they’ll bounce back eventually.” 

“And El?”

“I’m not sure what to make of her,” you admit. “She isn’t violent, I know she’s not. But we also clearly don’t know her as well as we think we do. I just, I need you to be careful around her, okay? Fight for her, defend her like you would for the boys, but be cautious as well.”

“Cautious, got it.” He cocks his head at you, “but what about Lucas and Mike? They’re still friends, right?”

“Of course they are. Just… sometimes friendship can be hard, but it’s almost always worth fighting for. It’s rare to find friends as loyal as Mike or as brave as Lucas or even as sincere as Will. Yet look at you guys, all together; you’re all incredibly lucky to have one another.”

“Lucky like you and Jonathan?” Dustin asks, a sly glint in his eyes. 

You smile, even if he’s teasing you. “Yeah, like me and Jonathan.”

Dustin returns your smile and you squeeze his hand. “Anyways, I say give Lucas some time to calm down. I think he was scared, more than anything. Tomorrow you can try to talk to him again.” 

Your brother nods at your words and he seems better than he did when you first started the conversation, so you open your arms wide and engulf him into a hug. 

“Code blue concluded, I guess.” Dustin mumbles against your chest, which causes the two of you to laugh.

– 

After your talk with Dustin, you head back to your room and wait for Jonathan to call. You glance at the clock and figure that maybe him and Nancy were still out scouting for clues, so you busy yourself with some homework.

When it nears ten at night and the phone still hasn’t rung, you sigh and reach over for the phone on your desk. You dial Jonathan’s number and hope he simply forgot to call, but when no one answers after your fifth time calling: you begin to worry. 

Ya know, maybe it wasn’t your best idea letting him and Nancy go off alone with a monster on the loose. 

You find yourself frantically biking to the Wheeler’s house before you can even think about it. The night blurs past you and as you walk up their driveway and try to rest your bike against their mailbox, a familiar BMW parks next to you. 

“We’ve gotta stop meeting like this, Henderson.” Steve says as he sends you a wink. 

You almost greet the boy before Tommy’s head pops out from the passenger side window. “Hey good lookin.”

You hear Carol berate him and the two begin to bicker as Steve gets out of the car. 

Great. He brought the idiots.

Steve walks over and takes your bike from your hands. After a couple seconds of repositioning and balancing, he finally manages to get the bike to stay upright. “Tada!”

“I almost had it,” you glare at him. 

“Sure ya did.”

Steve’s presence is frustrating as always, but you spot Jonathan’s car parked down the street and Carol’s shrill voice becomes increasingly irritating. You don’t have time for this right now. “What are you doing here, Harrington?”

“I could ask you the same thing.” When you glare at him, he finally says, “Nancy promised she’d call me but hasn’t, so I wanted to check on her.”

His sincerity is why you say, “I’m here for…” You realize you can’t necessarily tell Steve about Jonathan possibly being here. You have a feeling it wouldn’t end well, but you’re also not keen on lying to the boy. You’re already keeping secrets from practically everyone in your life; you don’t want to add Steve to the list. Not when he doesn’t deserve it. 

“I’m looking for Jonathan,” you confess, worried about Steve’s reaction. 

He frowns. “Why would Byers be here?”

“Him and Nancy have this… thing for english. Due tomorrow. A big thing. Like, huge. So they’re working on it together. In the house. Where Nancy lives. Here.” You stumble over your words, more nervous than usual, but you weren’t expecting Steve to be here or that you’d need a cover story. 

“Uh huh,” something almost aggressive flickers across Steve’s face and you silently curse to yourself. You said the wrong thing. 

“Funny, Nancy told me she was only helping Byers for the funeral.” 

Shit.

Tommy and Carol watch from the car, obviously amused by the whole situation. 

“Right! She was, now she’s working on an assignment with him.” Technically not a lie, you’re just omitting the fact that the assignment in question is monster hunting. 

“You’re really bad at lying, Henderson.” Steve walks past you, now over the conversation, and you struggle to keep up. You try to block his path, assuming that he’ll use the front door, but as you near the front step he side steps you and starts heading towards the bushes. 

“What are you doing?” You whisper loudly, trying not to draw too much attention to yourself. 

Steve ignores your whispered yelling and jumps on top of the radiator. Once he’s up, he begins to pull himself over the overhang and up onto the roof. There’s a window just above the ledge with a light on, which you presume to be Nancy’s room due to the practiced ease in which Steve scaled the house. 

You don’t try to climb up after him in fear that you’ll only end up embarrassing yourself. “Ya know, Mrs. Wheeler loves me, I could’ve just knocked on the door.”

Steve peers down at you, an easygoing smile now back on his face. “Relax, this is quicker. Besides, you gotta admit it was impressive to watch.”

Again he winks at you and you feel your cheeks flush. He’s right, it had been impressive to watch; he had made it look so easy. While you struggle to come up with a witty retort, Steve almost knocks on Nancy’s window before his smile drops.

You notice the way his face hardens. “Steve?”

He doesn’t respond, which only concerns you more. You begin to think about the millions of possibilities surrounding Nancy, Jonathan, and monster hunting; fear creeps in. “Is Nancy there? Is she okay?”

“Of course you’d be worried about Nancy right now,” Steve laughs bitterly. You frown at his words, unsure what they mean, but before you can ask anything else Steve angrily climbs back down.

“Steve, what-” He pushes past you in a frenzied hurry to get to his car, but you grab his jacket and force him to stop. “Answer me! Is Nancy okay? Was Jonathan with her?”

Steve whips around and sneers at you. “Why do you even care about them? About him?”

“Because we’re friends,” you say, and for the first time you really mean it. Nancy has become someone you’d call a friend. 

Another cruel laugh escapes Steve’s lips. “Friends, huh? Yeah, those two looked real fucking cozy in her bed.”

A wave of nausea hits you.

“W-what?” You drop your hand and release his jacket. 

“It’s incredible, really. Byers has some fucking nerve.” Steve runs a hand through his hair in agitation and begins to pace. You’re too numb to stop him. “I mean, look at you! He has everything he could possibly want, but he decides to go after my girlfriend.”

“It’s not like that-” 

“Did he tell you they’d be in her room, alone in her bed, underneath her blanket?”

More nausea hits you. “No,”

They were supposed to look for any signs of the monster in the woods. That’s all he told me, you think. 

“So he’s a liar, too.” Steve scoffs, “you deserve better, Y/N.”

And with that, he heads back to his car and drives away, leaving you standing alone once more in the Wheeler’s driveway. You get a sense of deja-vu, watching Steve’s BMW descend down the street, but only this time there’s no warmth fluttering within your stomach as he leaves. 

All you feel is nausea. 

You don’t remember the bike ride home; you’re not sure how you even made it back safely without crashing into anything. All you remember is that you cried the entire way. 

You’ve lost Jonathan, there’s no denying that now. He’s Nancy’s, wholly and truly, he’s hers. 

He was never yours in the first place, you remind yourself. 

But if he was never yours in the first place, then why does it feel like you were almost something?

No. 

You don’t want to think about it that way. 

Yours or not, you can’t afford to lose Jonathan. 

Something or everything, you’ll take whatever you can when it comes to him. 

Everything, anything, nothing. Whatever he gives you, you know you’ll cling onto it with all that’s within you.

But your friendship with Jonathan is too precious to lose, too meaningful to let stupid feelings ruin it. You refuse to let anything come between your friendship with him, and you swear to yourself to shove everything down. Every hurt feeling, all the pain stabbing within your chest, you force it all down to focus on finding Will. 

He’s all that matters right now, even if it feels like the thread connecting you to Jonathan has begun to wither.

Will has to come first. 

You have to find him, something good and lovely has to come from this. You can’t let this all be for nothing.

-

⌑ series masterlist

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[seeker-of-stories19]

Jaime & Khaji Da Headcannons

- Khaji makes a habit of naturally and even subconsciously adjusting Jaime’s body to make it more adaptive, it takes a lot of arguments and reminders for Khaji to stop giving him extra limbs and eventually they compromise on night vision and sometimes fangs/claws

- Khaji still secretly does it at night to pull Jamie’s blankets back up when he insists on sleeping in bed because he will kick them off if he gets hot

- Jaime only wears his Gotham law hoodie at home because he’s worried Khaji will destroy it and it’s his biggest comfort item

- There’s definitely an element of horror in having his body invaded in such a traumatic way, but oftentimes the thing that freaks Jaime out more is that it feels so right. He can’t remember and doesn’t want to imagine what his life would be like without Khaji Da

- Jaime routinely spaces out while talking to Khaji and literally won’t respond to his family. It freaks Bianca out a bit but Milagro and Rudy love messing with Jaime and totally take advantage of it to scare him

- Although one time Rudy jumps on him from behind and scares him so bad he gets electrocuted again, even though Khaji knows he’s not a threat they think Rudy deserves it for making Jaime scared

- After that they stick to hiding his stuff when he’s spaced out communicating with Khaji

- Jaime goes to ridiculously extreme lengths to hide the extent of his trauma because he’s terrified of having to explain what Victoria and Carapax did to him

- Eventually his family starts picking up on it and accommodating him without him asking about it, not coming up behind him, letting sit closest to the exits, not making him wear ties or anything tight around his neck

- It gets to the point where Jaime slowly starts venturing out of his room after panic attacks and nightmares, so he isn’t alone and his family learns that the best way to support him is just looking out for him and not asking about it

- Although there are definitely moments when weird things trigger Jaime and it makes them wonder why having stuff touch his neck causes him to lock himself in his room for hours or blast off to sit on top of a building somewhere

- Khaji is the only one who knows what really happened to Jaime on the island and they’re very protective as a result

- Jaime will absolutely have a breakdown if Khaji takes more than two seconds to answer him because he’s terrified of losing that connection again

- The longer they’re bonded the more Khaji learns about human emotions and experiences, eventually they’re able to contextualize the horror Jaime feels over their bonding and feel guilt for causing him pain. They still don’t understand it in truly human way but they know they hurt him a lot physically and mentally which goes against their purpose

- Jaime spends so much time and energy looking for clothes that won’t show off the bumps along his spine, definitely has to wear stiffer fabric than he likes so it lays somewhat normally

- There’s definitely a period where he tries sticking kinesiology tape over Khaji to try and make the shape less obvious because it’s too hot to wear long sleeves and they burn it off immediately

- Finally after months Milagro points out that if people ask he can just tell them it’s a back brace or some type of medical equipment which makes him feel very stupid for not thinking of it sooner

- He has a lot of scar tissue around where Khaji latched onto his spine even with the advanced healing because of the trauma it put on his body. He also has jagged scars all over his back and shoulders with some stretching down his arms and legs from the electricity since Khaji didn’t have enough resources at the time to heal him fully

- Definitely at least one occurrence where he scares a stranger half to death walking to his car at night because his eyes are glowing yellow

- Jaime saying we instead of I when talking about things, “We’re so tired” and “Gracias we appreciate it”

- Khaji is incredibly attached to Jaime as well, having bonded more intensely to him than any previous host and like Jaime they’re also terrified of being separated, although they know it is an inevitable part of their reality

- Jaime’s family being so confused by what a symbiotic relationship is and definitely asking some invasive questions on accident

- Jaime is sort of permanently torn between horror and affection toward Khaji, a constant tug of war between the violation of being forced to share his body and not truly have control over his body and choices and the fact that their connection feels undeniably right, the understanding on a level he doubts any other human being can comprehend experiencing

- But even on the bad days he doesn’t blame Khaji, they were simply doing what they were programmed to without any understanding of the pain or trauma it would cause

- And he knows they understand it better now and regret ever causing Jaime damage

- Clothes never stop being a problem, he ends up putting all the basics in an Amazon list and reordering a cheap wardrobe every couple months

- On nights he goes to events with Jenny or other nicer things he just prays he won’t transform and accidentally destroy his one suit

- Even though he can never convince Khaji to stop burning his clothes they always protect the necklace he wears of his fathers

- No matter how long they’re bonded Jaime still answers Khaji out loud sometimes, when he’s at home it just leads to some confusion and teasing but he gets some nasty looks in public for mumbling nonsense to himself or talking over people in conversations

- Clicking/chirping sounds when he’s happy

A/N I totally didn’t expect to get this many likes so thank you, maybe I need to do headcannons more often! Anyways please feel free to add to these in reblogs if you have any more ideas and use any of these that inspire you in your own stories! But if you do tag me or send me AO3 links so I can see!!!!!

[so-long-soldier28]

Favorite Sociopath

kai parker x reader

summary: damon and bonnie leave you in charge of babysitting kai. you accept willingly as time to get to know him.

tags: characters watching american horror story / ahs references, talking about trauma, past child abuse, childhood trauma, accidental cuddling / cuddling, bonding

word count: ~3.5k

“I’m almost finished, shut up,” Bonnie snaps at the brooding man beside her.

Damon puts his hands up, “jeez.”

“He’s in Georgia. At this location,” she points to the site on the map.

“What’s he doing there?”

“It’s your brother, you tell me.”

“It’s not like I control him!”

“Ah,” a voice interrupts their arguing, “the two of you, still bickering. Just like in the old days of 1994.”

“Shut up, Kai,” Damon orders the younger man. 

“Harsh words! I’m hurt.” He grabs his chest as if he were stabbed.

“You’re fine.”

The siphon clicks his tongue, “so when are we leaving?”

“We? You’re not going anywhere.”

“Oh come on! I helped,” he gestures vaguely, “with the spell.”

“Suggesting a locator spell is not helping. But regardless, your help or lack thereof is not why you’re not coming. You’re dangerous; you can’t be trusted. You’re staying here. Y/N, you’re watching him.”

“What?” Bonnie whips to face Damon before you can even comment. “He cannot be alone with her, he’ll kill her! How do you think Elena will feel when she finds out you let the psychopath murder her cousin?”

“Please, she’ll be fine! She can handle her own.”

“Kai is a psychopath! Whether or not she can handle her own means nothing when you have a psychotic witch against a mere human!”

“Only slightly offended,” you mutter. Then louder, “I’ll be fine, trust me. Kai’s a sociopath, not a psychopath.”

“And that means what exactly? That he’s not capable of killing you?”

“No, I’m just saying… I don’t know… I trust him. Sociopaths at least have the capability to feel emotions, they’re just buried, or reserved for certain people. Psychopaths are the ones that scare me.”

Both are obviously baffled from your statement. Though as soon as Bonnie gets over it, she yells, “you trust him?! Are you crazy?”

Kai borrows your words, “only slightly offended.” It makes you chuckle. “Just a reminder - I’m right here.”

“And?”

“And, Bonnie, no. She’s not crazy. She can think for herself, y’know? And she’s right - I’m not going to hurt her.”

“I don’t believe you.”

“Then don’t. You’re not the one being told to babysit me.”

“Damon, we cannot leave her with him!” She turns back to the man. 

“Well we’re running out of options. We could go with my original plan and leave these two here, go retrieve Stefan, and return. Or, we could bring them with us. Listen to Kai talk non-stop all the way to Georgia, grab Stefan, squeeze all three in the back of my camaro, and drive all the way back, with Kai still yammering. Does that sound fun to you?”

“Better than letting Y/N die at the jam-covered hands of him.”

You roll your eyes, “Bonnie, I’ll be fine. I promise. You two need to go get Stefan before he attacks someone else, and Georgia’s a long drive. Kai and I will be fine, and if not, there’s plenty of people I can call for help. Not only that, plenty of places I can hide in this massive house.”

“Just not under the bed,” Kai smirks, “I’ll find you there.”

You stifle a laugh as you meet Bonnie’s eyes. 

Kai notices her expression, too, and coughs, “just a joke. Very bad joke.”

“No more jokes.”

Seeing the fire in his friend’s eyes, Damon chooses the next moment to interrupt. “You’re right, Georgia’s a long drive. Kai, no leaving the house. Y/N, watch him carefully. No killing, no threatening, no nothing. Call Rick if you need anything-”

“Ew,” you cut him off.

“Alright. Call, I don’t know, Jeremy then. What’s wrong with Rick?”

“Weird, just weird. Might be the beard. Might be the…”

“Spit it out, Y/N.”

“Nah.”

Bonnie gives you a glare.

“Fine, I’ll call him. But I’ll be fine. We’ll be fine. Right, Kai?”

“Mhm.”

“See?”

“Whatever. Just be careful.”

◇◇◇◇

Twenty minutes later, they’re finally out the door. 

“Finally!” You collapse on the couch, “peace and quiet!”

Kai takes the chair across from you, then watches as you get comfortable.

“Want to watch something?”

“I am.”

“No, you goof. I mean on the TV,” you roll your eyes playfully at his comment.

“Like what?”

“I don’t know? Let’s see if there’s Netflix on here.”

“What’s a Netflix?”

“You’ll see.”

After a bit of scrolling - the brothers did, in fact, have Netflix downloaded - your eyes light up at one show in particular. 

“Oh this is a fun one.” 

“American Horror Story?”

“Mhm! Murder. Mayhem. It’s a masterpiece.”

“You’re into that sorta thing?”

You look at him, “why? Do I not look like it to you?”

“I don’t know, you just seem so sweet and innocent.”

“Oh, Kai Parker,” you coo at him, “that’s the thing about girls. Even the sweetest ones have a dark streak in there somewhere.” 

His eyes stay focused on you, nearly black and unblinking, but it’s hard to miss the lump in his throat.

“So you want to watch it?”

“You’ve got me intrigued. Now I’ve got to see it.”

You can’t help but giggle in excitement as you press start on the first episode. “They don’t have to be watched in order, but season one is a classic. Wait til you meet the love of my life, Tate Langdon.”

“Who’s Tate?”

“Oh, just my favorite sociopath,” you wink at him. “Aside from you, of course.”

His cheeks flush, but he tries to hide it with a cough. 

“It’s starting. Meet,” you spread your hands out as an introduction, “the twins, that I honestly forgot opened the show. And I don’t know their names.”

Kai chuckles, smiling at you before turning his eyes to the TV.

Only half of your attention is on the show, as the other half watches for the witch’s reactions. You notice a small grin when the twin - Brad? - gets sucked into the basement’s abyss. The expression should scare you, but you find yourself more entertained than anything else. His face changes, however, when Ben’s caught cheating on his wife. Kai’s eyes darken and jaw tenses. The smile returns when Vivian cuts the man’s arm in a fury, making you giggle. 

“He deserved that,” Kai justifies.

“Oh definitely.”

“I don’t know that much about… like, love, and all that, but you should never cheat on someone you love.”

Ignoring the butterflies in your stomach, you smile, “okay, Tate.” 

He cocks his head at you.

“You just nearly quoted him verbatim. Couldn’t help it. You’re right, though.”

You guys continue to watch. 

Eventually, the scene fades into the introduction. You can’t help but stick your tongue out at it, and don’t miss Kai muttering, “ew. That’s a little creepy, all those dolls and jars.” He grimaces.

“Sometimes the intros are scarier than the actual show.”

“How many seasons are there?”

“Four, but I bet there’ll be more.”

“Good. Ten minutes in and I’m hooked.”

“Season 3 is called Coven. But I really want you to meet Tate.”

“Coven? Is it anything like mine?”

“Well, let’s see from what you told me about yours... Shitty leaders - check. Awful parents - check. Stupid traditions - check. Yeah, similar.”

“Wait… you believe me? About my parents?”

“Of course,” you say without hesitation, “I mean, they locked you away for god’s sake. Of course I believe how they treated you. Why it made you snap.” Your tone quiets at the end, afraid to hit a nerve. Kai, however, doesn’t seem bothered by the mention of his crimes. He’s too focused on someone actually believing him; someone listening. 

The two of you stare at each other for a moment before he remembers to respond. “Thank you. For believing me.”

“All the evidence is stacked against your father. And if we’re being honest, dads are usually the cause of trauma, in my personal opinion. I mean, just look at my childhood. Hey, look at Ben Harmon,” you gesture to the TV, “every shitty thing is his fault. Or, maybe I’m projecting. Either way, he sucks.”

Kai laughs.

“Regardless, yes, I believe you, Kai. You’re not alone in your feelings. And like I told Bonnie, I do trust you.”

He’s quiet for a second, “it means a lot.”

You nod.

“Back to the show now?”

“Sure.”

You push the back button a few times to where you guys were before your mini conversation. For a second as it starts to play, you keep your eyes on him. His lips form a small smile. Fingers are still, resting on the armchair. His posture, though…

“Hey, Kai?”

“Hm?”

“Are you comfy?”

“Enough, yeah, why?”

“Come here, sit with me.” You sit up to pat the pillow where your head had just been. “Don’t hurt your neck looking up like that.”

“Are you sure?”

“‘Course. I don’t bite.”

The witch chuckles as you move the pillow for him to sit beside you. He sinks into the couch and gives you a smile that reawakens the butterflies in your stomach. 

“Better?”

“Mhm, thank you.”

“Is it okay if I touch you?”

“What, why?” The question catches him off guard.

“It’s okay to say no, I just wanted to ask in case I lean into you by accident. Don’t want to startle you, or cross a line.”

“No, um, wait. It’s okay.”

“You sure?”

“Yeah, you’re okay.”

Sensing his hesitation, you take slow movements to get back into your comfortable position. Soon, your shoulders touch gently, causing him to flinch a little.

“I’m okay still. I wasn’t… expecting it. I mean, I know you told me, but I wasn’t allowed to… I, uh, I’ve been isolated a lot of my life.” He debated his words carefully before settling on the explanation. “I’m sorry.”

“Don’t apologize, sweet. It’s not your fault. I’m guessing your father’s responsible for that, too?”

Kai nods slowly. “As a siphon, who didn’t know how to control their power, any form of contact would harm the other person. If I was allowed out of my room, I had to wear gloves, but even then, wasn’t allowed to touch anyone. Then I was in the prison world for eighteen years, alone.”

Hearing another bit of his past makes your heart break. Neither Damon nor Bonnie have told you much about him, except for a few antics from the prison world. They call him dangerous, but haven’t even told you his side of the story. As you learn more about him, everything in you wants to reach out and give him a tight hug, but you refrain from doing that to not startle him. 

He acknowledges your silence, “is this the part where you run?”

You snap out of your thoughts, “no, Kai. No, I’m not going to run. I’m sorry, I was just thinking. How awful of a man to treat his son that way.” Suddenly, you turn your body so you can look him in the eye. “You’re safe with me, Kai. Okay? Ever need to talk, ever need a hug. I’m here.”

“Okay. Um, thank you.”

“So… you okay if I…” you slowly get closer to him until your shoulders are touching again. “This too much?”

“No, you’re okay. Feels nice, actually.”

“Tell me if you need me to move.”

He nods, then pushes play on the remote. 

A deep focus takes over to the both of you as the show continues. At some point, Kai’s hand begins to absentmindedly trail along your arm - a gesture you don’t notice until you feel a chill throughout your body. He feels it too, and immediately retracts his hand.

“It’s okay. I like it.”

Kai doesn’t say anything, but to your delight, puts his hand back on your arm. You stay like that throughout the episode, too relaxed to recognize the heaviness in your eyes as sleep soon consumes your body. 

◇◇◇◇

Sometime later, your eyes flutter open, making you confused. There’s no sound, not even the TV, but it’s a comfortable silence, not one that feels threatening. Slowly, you wake up more fully and are able to better take in your senses. You’re still on the couch, but laying on your back. Your head is on something soft, but not pillow-soft. A hand runs along your arm - just as it was before you fell asleep… Kai. Where’s Kai?

You try to ask for his name, but in your state, all that comes out is a whine.

Nonetheless, he answers. “Hey, are you awake?”

“Kai?”

“Yeah, it’s me. Did you sleep well?”

“Yeah, but when did I fall asleep? Where are you?”

Eventually you’re able to pull your body up so that you’re sitting, not laying, on the couch. 

“I’m right here,” he waves to you as you reposition.

“Did I fall asleep on your lap?” The realization hits you, “I’m sorry! I didn’t mean to-”

“Hey, hey, it’s okay. No worries, I, uh, kinda liked the contact. Like I said, I kinda lacked that for a while.”

“I know, but I would’ve asked first.”

“Technically, you did. And you can’t control being tired, it’s fine. Trust me, I don’t mind being your pillow.”

A blush creeps onto your cheeks.

“In fact, I wouldn’t argue if you wanted to lay back down, because now I’m missing it.”

That’s all the convincing you need to reassume your position in his lap. Though this time, you move your head so you’re looking up at him. “Hey, Kai?”

“Mhm?”

“I’m happy you trust me enough to be this close. I like it, too. And I like being someone you are comfortable around.”

“Me too, Y/N. Oh, and hey, I paused the tv about an hour ago because I wanted to watch it with you but you were asleep. But we’re some way through episode two.”

“I slept that long?”

“Yeah, but it’s okay. I’ve been on Twitter, so I haven’t been completely bored.”

“Not Tweeting pictures of me sleeping, right?” You joke with a snort.

He snaps his fingers, “aw, I should’ve! Quick, go back to sleep!”

“Hell no! The whole Twitter-World doesn’t need to see my sleeping face! Bad enough you already did!”

“Awh, what are you talking about? You have a cute sleeping face. Twitter would thank you for being able to see it.”

The blush and the butterflies return with that comment. “I-uh-thanks.”

“I’m serious!”

“I, um, uh… do you want to keep watching, or are you bored?”

“I’m down to keep watching if you are.”

“Okay, press the play button.”

“Oh, wait, wait, wait, before we do - I met Tate!”

“Oh, yes! How’d you like him?”

“He’s fun! Highly relatable all the way down to the music taste. I see why you like him.”

“See?! My friends think I’m crazy for it, but he’s such a good character. And the way he absolutely loves Violet - he’d do anything for her! I mean, yeah, he killed a bunch of kids, but I don’t know, maybe if his mother didn’t fucking abuse him, he wouldn’t have snapped the way he did.”

You see Kai’s jaw set out of the corner of your eye. “Sorry, uh, spoiler alert.”

“It’s okay. Do you really blame his mom for that?”

“I mean, yeah. Yes, he was the one to carry out the crimes, but you can only take so much hurt and abuse before you snap. Emotions fizzle out until there’s just a numb feeling, and then… well, I imagine it’s hard to make rational decisions when you feel that way for so long.” A second later, you realize you’ve been ranting. “I’m sorry, I’ve just really studied his character. Done a lot of research, including research on sociopathy, and the long-term effects of childhood abuse. Helps me understand him, and what he felt, and what caused him to snap. Sorry, I’m ranting again, oh jeez!”

“It’s okay,” Kai swallows hard, “I, uh, feels nice to be understood. For Tate, I mean.”

You stiffen. “Kai?”

“Mhm?”

“Did your parents hurt you?”

“I mean, I was isolated for a long time.”

“I know that, but…” you don’t want to say it. Don’t want to open a wound; don’t want to push him past his limits of comfort. But, you need to know. “Did they hurt you?”

A visible lump forms in his throat. “What counts as that? Cause I mean, some parents just toss their hands in the air. Some others hit with shoes, I’ve heard. Jo’s friend actually mentioned one time that they had a wooden spoon reserved for punishments.” He’s deflecting. You can’t blame him; he’s obviously been through a lot.

He rambles on like this until he meets your eyes. Tears welling, threatening to spill. A trembling lip. You know. He knows you know. 

“Yeah, sometimes, Dad would. Most of the time he’d use magic, probably just to make a point about me being the abomination that can’t do magic.”

“For what reasons? Like, what did he see as a reason to hurt you?”

“Hmm, like if I talked back, or left my room without permission, or spoke to someone outside of the coven, like a sibling’s friend or neighbor. If he were really angry, like if I siphoned a sibling, he’d get more physical. Let’s just say, there’s probably a reason everyone wore long-sleeves with band tees in the nineties. Cover up those bruises with some devil band your parents hate,” cocking his head, he adds, “which then leads to more bruises but for different reasons.” He then pauses to clear his throat. “Eventually, I learned how to siphon the magic he’d throw at me. For three days, I felt so powerful. He’d hit me with a spell, and I could absorb some of it to fire back at him. But while I got a few good licks in, it mostly just made him angrier. He started getting even more physical, and later, would only include magic once I was down and unable to think up a spell.”

“Kai-”

“And then Mom died, and he only got worse. I mean, Mom and I never had a relationship so I wasn’t particularly affected by her passing. He was, though, and he got more violent towards me. I mean, he was now single-handedly raising eight kids - he had to take his anger out on one of them. Who better than the one you already hate? Anyway, life continued. Dad got more secretive, more dangerous.” Kai actually laughs, “I even feared him a little. I didn’t know if I’d ever escape that stupid bedroom, and even if I did, he’d make my life hell. Not only that, but it felt like he was planning something. And what do you know?! He was. Right before Jo and I’s birthday, the stupid fucking coven planned their monthly meeting in our house. Directly under my bedroom. I heard them through the vent, how they weren’t going to let us merge, and how they were going to wait until Liv and Luke were twenty-two instead. I had my suspicions about this - I knew something was off about the way he was acting - but for him to break coven tradition just to prevent me from merging? Fuck him. Coven always came before family with him, but he’d break the rules because he hated me so much.” Fire dances in his eyes, but he calms down a second later. “And that night is when I snapped. Something took over and I did to my family what my Dad probably wishes he did to me the night I was born. When he came back after whatever the hell the coven had left to do, he found Jo. And from that point on, I think you know how it went.”

Some time through his story, you had sat up to face him, leaving you now right in front of him as tears roll off your cheeks. “Kai…” There’s no words for what he’s just told you. Instead, you reach forward and hug him. Your arms wrap around his waist and you bury your face into his chest. Tears continue to fall, soaking his shirt, making you cry harder. A few moments later, you feel his arms on your back and he pulls you close. 

You two stay like that for a couple minutes. It’s nice. 

“I don’t want to pull away, but I want to tell you…” he lets you lift your head to face him again. “It feels good to have told someone. Thank you for listening to me, Y/N.”

“I’m glad you told me. I’m so sorry you had to go through that.”

He responds by pulling you back into the hug, “so, yeah… pretty relatable, your favorite sociopath.”

“Mmmm, actually, that title belongs to you,” you lean back so he can catch your wink. 

“Honored, Miss Y/N. Should we get back to watching your, ahem, second favorite sociopath?”

“Let’s do it.”

“Pressing playyyy, now,” he drags out the ‘y’. “Oh, and don’t you dare think of letting go.” 

You look at your position. Sitting on his lap, your arms around him, his around you. Your head on his chest, and his fingers tracing your back. “Wouldn’t dream of it.”

[iridescent-petrichor]

we’re just friends, right?

Pairing: Steve Harrington x Reader

Warnings: none, just a classic jealousy trope with a side of accidental confessions :D

Words: 2.4K

A/N: been gone for forever lol but i moved so!!! that was stressful!!!! but im back now so hopefully more fics coming soon !!

You’d been friends with Steve for a couple of years now, getting quite close to him after the demogorgon attack at the Byers' house with Jonathan and Nancy. The trauma bonded the two of you more than you had expected, especially when you kept having to band together to protect the kids every year since.

Today, though, was an ordinary afternoon. You stood at the counter of Family Video, watching Steve stumbling in, still throwing his vest on as he rushed into the building.

“Hey!” He smiled when he saw you, swerving around a customer not much older than either of you as they left, finding his usual spot next to you.

“You know you were supposed to start an hour ago, right?” You asked, biting back a smile.

“Yeah, sorry, I didn’t expect to run so late today.” He sighed, finally getting his outfit situated, looking at himself in the reflection of a television, patting his hair down.

You knew he went on a date the night before. He told you and Robin about it for hours before it actually happened, and you spent most of his rant ignoring Robin’s pitying looks.

“Was it something with…” You trailed off, honestly not even remembering the girl’s name. He’d gone on so many dates recently that you found it hard to keep track.

“Margaret! Or- Maggie.” He exclaimed, the smile on his face when he said her name making your stomach churn. “Yeah, I actually spent the night.”

You knew what he meant by that. It’s not like he was being subtle about it, waggling his eyebrows with a sly grin on his face. Turning away, you tried to busy yourself so he didn’t see the frown growing on your face.

Steve, oblivious, kept talking. He continued mindlessly about Maggie and their date and how wonderful she was and how well she listened and how he’s considering asking her out again.

“I was thinking dinner and a movie this Friday, what do you think?”

“She’d love that, I’m sure.” You muttered, already trying to tune him out. You turned your focus to the movies you were stocking, losing yourself in your thoughts while you easily set the new releases on the shelf on the display at the front of the store.

It didn’t take long before you noticed how quiet the store was. Looking up, you noticed Steve must’ve gone to a different part of the store, already distracted by something else he had to do. Brushing it off, you went back to work. Plus, it’s not like you were jealous of Maggie. Definitely not.

You couldn’t help the sigh escaping your lips, pushing your feelings down like you were so used to doing. You and Steve were such good friends now that there was no way you were gonna confess your annoying feelings for him just to ruin everything you two had built over the years.

The rest of your shift was… difficult… to say the least. You knew Steve could sense something was wrong, but you managed to sneak out of the conversation every time he was about to bring it up. That lasted for hours until you quickly clocked out and waved goodbye to him, taking a slight detour on the way home.

 Pulling up to an all too familiar house, you climbed out of your car and made your way up to knock at the front door. There was an audible shuffling throughout the house before the door swung open, revealing another dear coworker of yours.

“Hey!” Robin smiled, opening the door wider to let you in.

You followed her into her room, collapsing onto her bed once she shut the door.

“Jeez, what happened to you?” She asked, taking a seat next to you.

“Steve.” You groaned, sighing heavily.

“Oh god, is it that date he had with that girl?”

“Maggie.” The name tasted sour on your tongue, and Robin stifled a laugh, laying down next to you.

“You know he doesn’t actually like her, right?” She asked, laughing lightly when she saw the confusion on your face. “He doesn’t like any of these girls, that’s why he never takes them on a second date.”

“That’s the thing, Robin!” You shot up, suddenly upright in her bed. “He said he’s thinking of asking her out again! Dinner, movie, this Friday!”

Robin was quiet for a moment, clearly not anticipating that.

“Yeah.” You said, giving her a disappointed look.

“Listen, I haven’t been friends with Steve for as long as you have, but I do have eyes.” Slowly, she sat up as well. “Whenever you’re not looking at him, Steve stares at you like… like you’re the greatest thing in the universe. Honestly, I’m surprised you haven’t caught him, he’s practically drooling over you every time you’re in the room.”

You shook your head, rolling your eyes at Robin. “I think you need glasses, Rob.”

“I think you do!” She laughed, shoving you gently.

“Whatever.” You muttered, glancing down at your hands that sat in your lap. “I should head home, anyway. Gotta prepare for my shift tomorrow.”

Robin nodded. “Same here. I’ll see you at work!”

You got up, Robin following you as you walked to your car. She hung back at the front door, calling out to you as she started to close it.

“Think about what I said!”

 And you did.

The whole drive home you couldn’t help getting your hopes up, thinking that maybe there is a chance that Steve Harrington actually liked you.

Your mind wandered to everything he said, always giving you his full attention like you were saying the most important thing in the world

But that’s just how he was. It’s not like that’s exclusive to you.

Still, though, there was a small but ever-growing spark of hope deep within you that Robin started, festering until you parked your car in your driveway and trudged into your house, making your way to your own bedroom.

Despite your frustrations, you kept replaying every memory you could hold onto of Steve. You began overthinking everything – every little touch, everything he’d said to you, the way he said it, the way he looked at you, when you would catch him staring…

Stupid, stupid, stupid.

You groaned, slapping a hand over your eyes.

You’re delusional if you think he’d ever actually like you.

The doubt within you was still stronger than your hopes, bringing you back to the reality of having a crush on someone who was only friends with you because you killed monsters together.

You finally decided to go to sleep, tired from a long shift and a day of overthinking, unrequited pining, and false hopes.

 The next morning came far too soon, and now the light shining through your window was keeping you from falling back asleep. You stumbled out of bed, getting ready as fast as you could before throwing a Family Video vest over your shirt and driving off to work.

When you arrive, you see Robin first. She perks up when she sees you, waving as you enter. You wave back, the grin on your face only faltering when you notice Steve standing towards the back of the store, chatting up some girl.

“Shit.”

“Yeah.” Robin gave you a tightlipped smile as you stood next to her, looking away to avoid the pitying look in her eyes.

“It’s fine. It’s fine. It’s not like I’m in love with him.” You can tell by the way she looks at you that she doesn’t believe a word you’re saying, and at this point, you’re not sure you do either.

Steve hears your voice, thankfully not actually hearing the words you were saying, easily slipping out of the conversation with the girl he’d been talking to so he could make his way behind the counter next to you.

“Hey, you’re on time!” He smiled, folding his arms as he approached you.

“Yeah, I can actually manage that.” You quipped, mimicking his pose.

“Okay, okay, like you’ve never made one mistake.” He rolled his eyes. Robin took a step back, slowly making her way out of the room while the two of you talked.

“Nope. Never made a single mistake. Not once.” Steve’s eyes widened, faux shock in his eyes.

“Oh, really? You sure about that?”

You didn’t have the chance to respond before a loud throat clearing made the two of you jump back, seeing the girl from moments ago standing in front of the register, frustration evident on her face. She was giving you the dirtiest look she could muster, but Steve waved it off, quickly ringing her up before he turned back to you.

“Anyways, did you hear the kids are planning a dnd campaign?”

The girl scoffed, grabbing her movie and leaving the store. Steve didn’t look back at her, and you had to bite your cheek to hold back the grin on your face.

“…Y/N?” Steve waved a hand in front of your face, getting your attention.

“Oh, yeah, sorry.” You forced yourself out of your thoughts, looking to Steve. “What’s up?”

“…You’ve been weird lately, you okay? Any demogorgons in your head?” Lightly, he knocked on your head, making you laugh.

“Yeah, no, yeah, I’m fine.” Just grappling with my feelings for you.

“You sure?” The concern in his voice made you weak, and you take a breath to hold everything back. Every confession on your tongue, everything you took the time to notice when no one else would. How he always checks the darkest corners of a room when he walks in, and how he never fully lets himself relax. How he still keeps that stupid bat in his car because he’s terrified that if he doesn’t have it and something happens he won't be able to protect anyone. How he hates driving at night because he’s worried something’s gonna leap out of the shadows. How he checks in on everyone else because no one ever thinks to check in on him.

“Y/N?” You look up, seeing Steve still standing there, giving you a concerned look.

“Yeah,” Then, more convincingly, “Yeah, I’m sure.” You give him a warm smile that he returns, trying to ignore the worry in his eyes.

The way Steve looked at you made your head spin, and for a moment you let yourself pretend that he could actually think of you that way. That he could care for you. That he could love you.

You turn away, trying to busy yourself despite how dead the store was. It was the middle of the day on a Thursday, so everyone and their mothers were spending their time anywhere but there. You felt like you were underwater, stuck in your own brain analyzing every little thing Steve did.

The way he stood so close to you, the affection he gave you, the way he looks at you like you’re the only person that matters, always making sure you’re okay…

Yeah, I’m fine. It’s not like I’m in love with you.

“What was that?” You froze, risking a glance at Steve. He stood there, looking just as surprised as you felt, and you knew you were in deep shit.

All those days hiding your feelings and biting your tongue finally came to a head.

“I-” You tried to speak, but you couldn’t do anything more than stand there like a deer in headlights.

“What did you say?” Steve took a tentative step closer, and you felt like the world was closing in on you.

“I mean, c’mon,” You scoffed, looking anywhere but him. “It’s not like you didn’t know. Everyone knew.”

“No, I think I would definitely remember knowing that you were, what was it, in love with me?” You couldn’t tell if he was mocking you or not, and you felt your mouth dry up, staring harshly at the ground.

“Steve.” You warned, voice weaker than you wanted it to be.

His eyes widened when he realized you were shutting down, frantic to make sure you wouldn’t get the wrong idea.

“Y/N, if you told me sooner you were in love with me then I wouldn’t have had to go on all those stupid dates!” He rushed, putting his hands on either side of your shoulders.

You made eye contact with him, brain short-circuiting as you tried to process what he was saying.

“Hey,” His voice gently brought you back into the present moment, giving you a small smile. “Do you remember a couple of years back, at Jonathan’s place, when we were all waiting for those demodogs to show up? And everyone was exhausted and terrified and trying to prepare for a war against these stupid… things from another dimension?”

“Yeah. I remember.” You said quietly.

“Well, I was trying to get ready, and I looked over at you, and you were talking to Max. She was trying to pretend she was okay but you said you saw that she was terrified out of her mind, so you sat with her for a minute calming her down. You made sure she knew that you wouldn’t let anything happen to her, that you would make absolutely sure that none of the kids were getting hurt.” You remembered it like it was yesterday. Max was shaking, but she was trying so hard to stand strong, so you pulled her aside and tried to reassure her. You didn’t even know Steve noticed when that happened.

“Then,” Steve continued. “When we were all waiting for the monsters to come to kill us all, you stood at the front of the group, more than ready to protect everyone with your life. It was… I mean, I was terrified for you. I thought that I was going to lose you, and I would never have the chance to tell you I was in love with you.”

You felt your heart swell. “…What?”

“You know,” Steve laughed, “I’m surprised you didn’t see right through me. Robin immediately did; she gave me hell every time I told her I had a new date. I figured you just didn’t like me back.”

“Are you kidding, how could I not?” The look on Steve’s face made you slap a hand over your mouth, not wanting to spill anything else you’d been holding back.

“So… What do you say we get dinner tonight? My treat.” He offered, grinning from ear to ear.

“I’d love that, Steve.”

[small-z24]

One-Shot: Shadows Entwined

Summary:

Y/N, Tamlin's cousin and a shadowsinger, longs to escape the oppressive Spring Court. When she encounters Azriel, the Night Court's Shadowsinger, their initial animosity transforms into a deep bond. Together, they navigate court tensions and confront their pasts, discovering a shared future.

Word Count: 2413

Warnings: This story contains themes of trauma, emotional distress, and violence. There are scenes depicting tense confrontations and discussions of past abuse. Reader discretion is advised.

The Spring Court was a place of deceptive beauty. The vibrant flowers and lush greenery belied the underlying tension that permeated the land. Y/N, Tamlin’s cousin, knew this all too well. She had a secret, one that set her apart from the rest of the court: she was a shadowsinger, able to summon and command shadows just like Azriel of the Night Court.

Her gift was both a blessing and a curse. The shadows had been her companions and protectors since childhood, a result of the trauma she endured growing up. Now, they were her only solace in a court she despised. Tamlin's erratic behavior had worsened since Feyre’s departure to fulfill her monthly contract with Rhysand, and Y/N longed for an escape from the madness.

One evening, as twilight descended, Y/N's shadows whispered of an intruder. Moving silently through the gardens, her shadows swirling protectively around her, she found him—Azriel, the infamous Shadowsinger, spying on the Spring Court.

“You're trespassing, Shadowsinger,” Y/N called out, her voice laced with cold disdain.

Azriel turned sharply, his hazel eyes narrowing at the sight of her. “And you are out of your league, little shadow,” he replied coldly.

Y/N’s shadows flared around her, mingling with Azriel’s own in a way that seemed almost playful. “Leave now, or I’ll make you,” she threatened, stepping closer.

Azriel’s shadows reacted to hers, intertwining and whispering secrets only they understood. He frowned, clearly unsettled. “Your shadows know me,” he said, his voice tinged with suspicion.

“They do,” Y/N replied, her eyes narrowing. “And they don’t trust you. Neither do I.”

Azriel’s expression hardened. “You’re Tamlin’s puppet. What would you know of trust?”

Her shadows bristled at the insult, wrapping tighter around her. “I’m no puppet,” she snapped. “And I won’t let you leave with whatever information you’ve gathered.”

Azriel took a step forward, his wings casting a menacing shadow. “Try and stop me, and you’ll regret it.”

The tension between them crackled in the air, shadows clashing in the dim light. Despite their animosity, their shadows continued to bond, drawing them inexplicably closer.

“Why do they do that?” Azriel muttered, more to himself than to her.

“Maybe they recognize something we don’t,” Y/N retorted, her eyes blazing. “But it changes nothing. You’re still my enemy.”

“And you’re mine,” Azriel shot back. “But perhaps not forever.”

Y/N scoffed. “Don’t get your hopes up. I have no love for the Spring Court, but I despise spies even more.”

The weeks that followed were a constant battle of wills. Azriel returned frequently, and their encounters were marked by sharp words and cold glares. Yet, beneath the surface, their shadows continued to bond, drawing them inexplicably closer.

One night, as they stood facing each other in the moonlit garden, Azriel’s frustration boiled over. “Why do your shadows insist on following mine?” he demanded.

Y/N’s own frustration matched his. “I don’t know,” she snapped. “Maybe they see something we can’t.”

Azriel stepped closer, his gaze intense. “Or maybe they know something we refuse to acknowledge.”

Y/N’s heart pounded in her chest as his shadows brushed against hers, their touch soothing and intimate. “And what would that be?” she whispered, unable to keep the tremor from her voice.

Azriel’s eyes softened, though his expression remained guarded. “That we’re more alike than we want to admit. That perhaps... we’re meant to be allies.”

“Or more,” his shadows seemed to whisper, though neither of them dared to voice it.

One particularly tense evening, Y/N found herself cornered by Tamlin’s rage. His erratic behavior had reached a boiling point, and she knew she needed to get away—for her safety and sanity. She had planned to leave, but Tamlin caught her before she could escape.

“What are you doing?” Tamlin’s voice was a dangerous growl.

Y/N stood her ground, her shadows swirling protectively. “Leaving. I can’t stay here any longer.”

Tamlin’s eyes flashed with fury. “You think you can just walk away? You belong here, with the Spring Court.”

Before Tamlin could react, Azriel appeared, his presence a dark and formidable force. “She’s leaving,” he said, his voice cold and unyielding. “And you won’t stop her.”

Tamlin’s eyes narrowed. “This is none of your concern, Night Court scum.”

Azriel stepped closer, his wings spreading menacingly. “Y/N is under my protection now. If you want to harm her, you’ll have to go through me.”

Y/N’s heart pounded as she watched the confrontation, her shadows quivering with tension. She had never seen anyone stand up to Tamlin like this. Azriel’s fierce protection both unsettled and comforted her.

Tamlin, recognizing the threat, backed down with a snarl. “Fine. Take her. She’s not worth the trouble.”

Azriel nodded, keeping his gaze locked on Tamlin until he was out of sight. Then, he turned to Y/N, his expression softening. “Are you alright?”

Y/N nodded, though her heart still raced. “I am now. Thank you.”

Azriel’s shadows reached out to hers, intertwining in a gentle, comforting embrace. “You’re safe with me,” he said quietly. “Let’s get you out of here.”

As they left the Spring Court behind, Y/N felt a strange sense of relief and apprehension. She was leaving behind everything she had known, but she was also stepping into a future that felt uncertain yet full of promise.

Over the following weeks, as she adjusted to life away from the Spring Court, her relationship with Azriel shifted. The animosity that had defined their interactions began to dissolve, replaced by a growing respect and understanding.

One evening, as they stood together on a balcony overlooking the Night Court, Y/N turned to Azriel, her heart full of gratitude. “Thank you, Azriel. For everything.”

Azriel looked at her, his hazel eyes filled with warmth. “You’re welcome, Y/N. You deserve to be free and happy.”

Their shadows danced together, a testament to the bond that had formed between them. In that moment, Y/N realized that what had started as enmity had blossomed into something deeper, something that held the promise of a future filled with light and love.

And as they stood there, side by side, they knew that whatever challenges lay ahead, they would face them together, their shadows forever intertwined.

As Y/N settled into life in the Night Court, she couldn't help but marvel at the stark contrast between this new environment and the oppressive atmosphere of the Spring Court. Velaris was a city of light and beauty, where the people thrived under Rhysand's just and benevolent rule. Yet, despite the warm welcome she received, Y/N often found herself grappling with feelings of guilt and apprehension. She had left behind her home and family, even if it was one ruled by a tyrant.

Azriel was a constant presence by her side. Though their relationship had begun with animosity, it had evolved into something more complex. He was patient, never pushing her to speak about her past, but always offering a quiet, reassuring presence.

One evening, as the stars twinkled above and the gentle breeze carried the scent of night-blooming flowers, Y/N found herself alone on the balcony of the House of Wind. She was lost in thought, her shadows swirling gently around her in a dance of their own.

Azriel joined her, his silent approach only noticed by her shadows, who greeted him with a playful flicker. "You seem troubled," he said softly, standing beside her and gazing out over the city.

Y/N sighed, her eyes tracing the patterns of the stars. "It's just... everything is so different here. It's peaceful, and everyone is so kind. I almost feel like I don't belong."

Azriel turned to her, his expression serious. "You do belong, Y/N. You deserve peace and kindness as much as anyone else."

She looked at him, her eyes reflecting the turmoil within. "It's hard to shake the feeling that I abandoned my family. Even though Tamlin has become unbearable, he's still family."

Azriel's gaze softened, and he reached out to gently touch her arm. "You did what you had to do to survive. To protect yourself. There's no shame in that."

Y/N nodded, feeling a weight lift from her shoulders. "Thank you, Azriel. Your support means more than you know."

They stood in comfortable silence for a moment before Azriel spoke again, his voice tinged with a hint of hesitation. "Your shadows... they trust you completely. It's clear that you've been through a lot to earn that bond."

Y/N's heart ached at the memories of her childhood, the trials she had endured to gain the trust of her shadows. "I suppose we both understand what it's like to find solace in the darkness," she said quietly.

Azriel nodded, his own shadows swirling around him in a protective embrace. "Yes, we do."

Their shared understanding forged a deeper connection between them, one built on mutual respect and empathy. As the days turned into weeks, they spent more time together, their bond growing stronger with each passing moment.

One night, during a particularly fierce storm, Y/N found herself unable to sleep. The howling wind and crashing thunder reminded her too much of the turmoil she had left behind. She wandered through the House of Wind, seeking solace in the familiar embrace of her shadows.

She found Azriel in the library, surrounded by books and scrolls. He looked up as she entered, his eyes filled with concern. "Couldn't sleep?" he asked, already knowing the answer.

Y/N shook her head, wrapping her arms around herself. "The storm... it brings back memories."

Azriel stood and approached her, his presence a comforting anchor in the chaos of her thoughts. "Would you like to talk about it?"

Y/N hesitated, then nodded. "I suppose it's time I shared my story."

They sat together on a plush sofa, the storm raging outside while Y/N recounted her past. She spoke of the trauma she had endured as a child, the harsh lessons that had taught her to control her shadows. She told him about Tamlin's descent into madness and her growing desperation to escape the Spring Court.

Azriel listened intently, his expression never wavering from one of understanding and compassion. When she finished, he reached out and took her hand in his. "You are incredibly strong, Y/N. You've survived so much, and yet you still have so much light within you."

Tears welled in her eyes, and she squeezed his hand. "Thank you, Azriel. Your words mean more than you know."

He pulled her into a gentle embrace, his wings wrapping around them both like a protective shield. "You are safe here, Y/N. And you are not alone."

As she rested her head against his chest, Y/N felt a sense of peace settle over her. For the first time in a long while, she felt truly safe.

The days turned into weeks, and the bond between Y/N and Azriel continued to deepen. Their shared experiences and mutual respect blossomed into a genuine friendship, and perhaps, something more. Y/N found herself looking forward to their time together, the moments of quiet conversation and shared understanding.

One evening, as they walked through the moonlit gardens of Velaris, Azriel spoke of his childhood, of the horrors he had endured and the solace he had found in his shadows. Y/N listened, her heart aching for the boy he had been, and admiration growing for the man he had become.

"You've been through so much," she said softly, reaching out to touch his arm. "Yet you've emerged stronger, kinder. It's remarkable."

Azriel smiled faintly, his eyes softening. "We all carry our scars, visible or not. It's how we choose to move forward that defines us."

Their conversation was interrupted by the sudden appearance of a familiar figure. Rhysand, the High Lord of the Night Court, approached them with a knowing smile.

"I see you two have become quite the team," Rhysand remarked, his gaze flicking between them.

Azriel nodded, his expression serious. "Y/N is an invaluable ally."

Rhysand's smile widened. "I'm glad to hear it. In fact, I have a mission that requires your unique skills."

Y/N's curiosity piqued. "What kind of mission?"

"A reconnaissance mission," Rhysand explained. "We need to gather information on a potential threat in the Summer Court. Azriel, I want you to lead the team, and Y/N, your shadows could prove crucial."

Y/N glanced at Azriel, who gave her an encouraging nod. "I'm in," she said firmly.

Rhysand nodded in approval. "Excellent. Prepare yourselves. We leave at dawn."

The mission to the Summer Court was fraught with danger and uncertainty, but Y/N and Azriel faced it together, their bond only strengthening in the face of adversity. They navigated treacherous waters, evaded capture, and uncovered crucial information that could protect the Night Court from potential threats.

Throughout the mission, Y/N found herself relying on Azriel more than ever. His unwavering support and calm demeanor were a steadying force, and she realized just how much she had come to care for him.

As they returned to Velaris, successful in their mission, Y/N knew that her life had changed irrevocably. She had found not only a new home but also a new purpose, and perhaps, a new love.

One evening, as they stood on the balcony of the House of Wind, Azriel turned to her, his eyes reflecting the myriad emotions he felt. "Y/N, I need to tell you something."

She looked up at him, her heart pounding. "What is it, Azriel?"

He took a deep breath, his shadows wrapping around them both in a protective embrace. "I've come to realize that you mean more to me than just an ally or a friend. I care for you deeply, and I want you to know that."

Y/N's heart soared at his words. "I care for you too, Azriel. More than I ever thought possible."

Azriel's expression softened, and he reached out to cup her cheek. "Then let's face whatever the future holds together. No more enemies, only allies. Only us."

Y/N smiled, tears of happiness in her eyes. "Yes, only us."

As they stood there, wrapped in each other's embrace, their shadows intertwined, Y/N knew that she had finally found her place. With Azriel by her side, she felt ready to face any challenge and embrace the future with open arms.

[rockalillygirl]

Murderbot Holding Hands

(Minor spoilers alert for Artificial Condition, Rogue Protocol, Exit Strategy pls check the tags)

First real post because I’m shy. Don’t know why it’s going to be a hyper-specific murderbot meta but here we go:

I’ve been rereading all the books after finishing System Collapse <3 and I want to talk about a small moment in Artificial Condition that I’d never noticed before. It’s near the end of the book when Tapan is in ART’s medsystem after nearly dying, and SecUnit says that when Tapan wakes up it’s holding her hand.

When Tapan woke, I was sitting on the MedSystem’s platform holding her hand. (Artificial Condition, p. 155 in my ebook)

I thought it was a really sweet moment, but it also kind of puzzled me because of SecUnit’s aversion to touch. Later when I was reading Exit Strategy, I noticed a similar moment when SecUnit holds hands with Mensah to help disguise them as they’re trying to escape TranRollinHyfa.

[Mensah] took a deep breath and looked up at me. “We can look calm. We’re good at that.” Yeah, we were. I did a quick review to make sure I was running all my not-a-SecUnit code, then I thought of one more thing I could do. As we stepped out of the pod, I took Mensah’s hand. (Exit Strategy, p. 87)

Reading these scenes felt different in a couple ways. In my opinion, SecUnit taking Mensah’s hand in Exit Strategy seemed like more of a big deal because it was a part of SecUnit’s reunion with Mensah, and we see its thoughts and emotions leading up to it. And it tracks that SecUnit might feel ok holding Mensah’s hand in that situation because of their close friendship. But the moment in Artificial Condition is more mysterious. We don’t get any of SecUnit’s internal monologue at the beginning because the scene opens when Tapan wakes up. And even though it’s clear in the book that SecUnit likes Tapan along with Rami and Maro, I wouldn’t say their relationship is anywhere near as close as its bond with Mensah. So why did it hold her hand?

I think it’s a neat moment that’s fun to ponder! And I have some vague ideas I’d like to share about it. (Some of this is based on the books and some is my speculation as an ace/aspec person dealing with touch aversion.) (Also none of these thoughts are mutually exclusive!)

Maybe SecUnit saw holding Tapan’s hand as a form of first aid after her traumatic experience and didn’t want her to panic waking up in a strange ship’s medsystem. This fits with SecUnit bracing itself to hug Mensah in Exit Strategy. (The memes of this moment are perfect lol)

But I was the only one here, so I braced myself and made the ultimate sacrifice. “Uh, you can hug me if you need to.” She started to laugh, then her face did something complicated and she hugged me. I upped the temperature in my chest and told myself it was like first aid. (Exit Strategy, pp. 82-3)

But I feel like SecUnit might not care as much about comforting Tapan in a similar way if it hadn’t already built up some kind of trust with her? Which brings me to Thought 2:

I think SecUnit might have felt safe holding Tapan’s hand because of the moment in Artificial Condition in the second transient hostel when Tapan laid down next to it. (Ofc I think rescuing Tapan from Tlacey’s ship was also a factor, trauma-bonding and all. But to me this moment in the hostel is more important.)

Thirty-two minutes later, I heard movement. I thought Tapan was getting up to go to the restroom facility, but then she settled on the pad behind me, not quite touching my back… I had never had a human touch me, or almost touch me, like this before and it was deeply, deeply weird. (Artificial Condition, pp. 136-7)

This is one of my favorite sequences in Artificial Condition (which is also my favorite book in the series because of ART! And because I find it quiet, reflective, and weirdly cozy even though objectively few cozy things happen now that I think about it). The scene is pretty mundane with a lot of fun bits like SecUnit pretending to need to use the restroom, be on a diet, etc. And we usually don’t get to see SecUnit hanging out with only one person. So it gives room for some small, but important feelings that I don’t think SecUnit has time to explore when it’s busy saving the day. Like how it feels about physical contact with humans.

(idk it reminds me of how like in ghibli films there’s usually at least one scene with the characters eating a meal or something because it sort of grounds everything else. I just like it!)

Tapan being close to SecUnit seems to throw if off-guard, but the context of the scene feels non-threatening and pretty mellow. So I think this gives SecUnit the opportunity to check-in with itself about this new experience. It still feels weird about it, but not in a scary or upsetting way. I think it’s almost this mutual vulnerability (Tapan feeling vulnerable and seeking comfort and SecUnit feeling vulnerable about her closeness and its own boundaries) that creates a bond between them, and that’s why SecUnit reaches out to Tapan to comfort her when she wakes up onboard ART.

That scene has become really special to me. And I would argue that it’s an important moment to SecUnit too because it brings it up again in Exit Strategy, along with a later moment in Rogue Protocol, thinking about times when it’s experienced physical contact with humans in a non-traumatizing way.

Except it wasn’t entirely awful. It was like when Tapan had slept next to me at the hostel, or when Abene had leaned on me after I saved her; strange, but not as horrific as I would have thought. (Exit Strategy, p. 83)

These moments seem to lead up to SecUnit offering to comfort Mensah later on because it’s reached a point where it feels willing to do so for her sake, even if it doesn’t want to seek out that kind of comfort for itself. And it’s really cool to see SecUnit navigate this throughout the books.

SecUnit starts the series with a strong innate sense that it doesn’t want to be touched by humans, but it’s allowed to refine those feelings in light of its new experiences. It’s boundaries are situational and personal, and even well-meaning humans sometimes struggle to understand them at first. Other times, SecUnit finds it difficult to understand it’s own feelings regarding touch and even changes its mind. But, importantly, the narrative always presents this as valid and worthy of respect.

This is a much more nuanced and realistic portrayal of defining boundaries than I’ve seen in a lot of media- one where it’s a constant and sometimes confusing process of self-discovery.

And these might seem like obvious concepts to some people, but they weren’t for me growing up. I really wish I’d read these books when I was younger, and maybe I would’ve given myself more grace to define my comfort level, grow, and change. But I’m glad that I’m in a place now where I can see and appreciate these things in what’s become one of my favorite series.

Anyway, I don’t want to say "thanks for coming to my TedTalk” lol. But very grateful to anyone who reads this and hope it was thought-provoking. Would be interested to hear other people’s thoughts on these scenes!

[elvensorceress]

So there is a "leaked" script that claims Eddie asked Marisol to move in, and is it just me, or is that completely out of character for Eddie? He dated Ana for longer, and they weren't living together. we are really supposed to believe that he would ask Marisol to move in after a few months of dating? Unless Eddie is unable to process anything after learning his Buck. Is dating a man that is not him, and instead of breaking up with her like he planned, he pulls a Buck and asks her to move in with him.

Eddie does not deserve to be stuck with someone like Marisol.

According to 7x04, he apparently needs a live-in babysitter so he can go out with his shiny new boyfriend. So… 🤣  And it took a whole relationship and a blackout before Ana was his babysitter! Just from that much I’m still going, yikes. Like, girl, do you not have friends? Do you not have someone who will tell you this relationship is red flags all over the place? Can we not call up your Folger brother and have him talk some sense into you? 

You’re very right though. Eddie deserves so much better. 

I have heard about the supposed leaked scripts and I’ll talk some about that under a cut below in case anyone wants to read my thoughts on it. 

But what I’ll say in general is that in some of the interviews we’ve been seeing recently especially with canon bi!Buck, Mr. Showrunner had scathing things to say about love interests who are just there to be love interests. He didn’t like that they couldn’t interact with any of the other characters and that they weren’t part of the overall story. 

Given we’ve had what, two? offhand comments and maybe five whole seconds of screen time this season with her, if they wanted to actually develop that relationship for the audience, they could have done that. And should have done that a long, long time ago. (For example, see Eddie and Tommy’s relationship. In one whole episode they did more to build that up than they have done for Eddie/allegedgirlfriendconfirmedterf in all of season 6 or 7.)

Instead, they showcased the bond between Buck and the Diazes and the trauma that Eddie and Chris still have over Shannon leaving and them losing her. And also Eddie’s new friendship with Tommy that sounded like they were both spending every day, every moment together. 

So far for Miss Homophobe, we have—

hey mari it me eddie from the hardware store

the phone call where they set up a date

it's not MY date it's CHRIS' date (r u sure, dude? why is she there then 🤣)

her chaperoning Chris’ date with Eddie

her babysitting twice off screen

Obviously, she’s in the next episode and they have a pizza date while Eddie has to stare at his bestest friends while they’re on a date. But at this point, if you want the audience to root for the relationship or enjoy it at the very least, it’s a little late in the game for that? We have nothing to go on and it doesn’t make sense if we’re taking it at face value. 

All this to say, if he does ask her to move in with him, there is no way for the audience to buy that it’s genuine, reasonable, or a smart move. It reads like Buck asking Taylor to move in with him because he cheated and he’s desperate and clinging. Even if Eddie and the terf show up and are all happy and handsy and lovey, it’s not convincing. There’s been no development. It would come across like Buck and Ali apartment hunting and being touchy and giggly, and then her dumping him at the end of the episode. It sets up a contrast between what we think is happening and what is really happening. Perceived happiness vs the reality of not knowing each other and their relationship crumbling.

I don’t remember who said it or when it was said, maybe it was Kristen? But I know someone talked about how Eddie rushed things with Ana and they were wanting to do the opposite when continuing his story. Dating someone for (how long has it even been? 2-3 months? Idek? Does Eddie even know?) Mere months and asking them to move in reeks of, “something is going wrong and I have to fix it by doing something rash and ill-advised to keep us together.” 

Remind me to do a post about Eddie also being someone who clings and stays because it’s convenient and he doesn’t want to be alone. 

It would be completely out of character if it is a sincere, legit thing. However, as a panic response? I buy it. But that also doesn’t bode well for their future. Darn. Hold on, I’ll get the champagne. That relationship is just waiting to be bones. And in an episode called, “You Don’t Know Me,” is where they’re putting their relationship under a microscope? Hildy, cue up the ominous music. 

I doubt the glorious day we are free of her will be this week. I think they are just starting whatever they have planned. Unfortunately. I would hope they kept her around and brought her back for a reason like what they did with Eddie/Ana. I want there to be something satisfying about the end and the fact that we have to suffer through this. It just needs to happen quickly because I am so over homophobic terfs who know what fucking show they’re on and what the story is and still persist in their assholish bigotry.  

Now? My thoughts on the leaks?

IF we are to believe they are legit, and who knows if they are. But if we are saying they are legit, then Buck comes out to Eddie at the very end and Eddie is surprised. So, Eddie likely wouldn’t be jealous or weird about Buck and Tommy dating if he didn’t even know they are dating. Plus, they just had a whole episode dedicated to jealous!Buck and it would be redundant to immediately take that into, now EDDIE is the JEALOUS ONE. I think they’d have to take the story further for Eddie to really consider how he feels about Buck and Tommy dating. 

Maybe it will come down to him being displeased by it (for some unknown reason he just can't put his finger on) and grappling with how he genuinely likes Tommy a lot and that’s a new thing for him and one of Buck’s love interests? But it wouldn’t happen this week. In theory, this week is about Buck feeling like he’s hiding because he just realized he’s bi and hasn’t told anyone yet. Hence, more of the “you don’t know me.” 

Obviously, I am rooting for Buddie. All the way. All the time. I like Buck/Tommy just fine but they’re not BuckandEddie. But I think it will take a while before we see anything that might really develop the Buck & Eddie storyline. They’re working on Buck’s bisexual awakening and his first time dating a man. WHERE OH WHERE ARE MY EDDIE STORYLINES.  I just want them to do some justice for my boy. Give him something interesting! And for the terf to gtf away from him. :D

And apologies, I rambled a lot at you. Love and hugs!

[smeddiemunson]

While i think Robin being utterly grossed out by everything to do with Steve and a relationship is so funny, i’m kinda obsessed with the idea that they don’t have any boundaries. They’re codependent and don’t know how to function without each other!

When Steve and Eddie start dating, Eddie thinks it could be really funny to make Robin squirm with details of their sex life because sometimes she’s a little mean and he wants payback in a way that won’t add to the levels of trauma they’ve all experienced. 

So Eddie’s teasing her and making it raunchy, laughing as he watches her nose scrunch up at the details, and if he’s embellishing the truth just a little bit, well, it’s only for the fun of revenge. 

But Robin stops him and says, “was this before or after you bust a nut like three seconds after you got inside him?” Laughs at the way Eddie’s face immediately flushes bright red. 

And Eddie whips his head around to stare accusingly at his boyfriend, hissing through his teeth, “You told her about that?” 

Steve just shrugs, shameless, says, “I tell her everything, you know that.” as if it should explain everything. 

Chrissy not even batting an eye when Steve references something that she thought was just between her and Robin. She knew Robin and Steve were close, knew Robin said she told him everything, everything, and Chrissy hadn’t really believed her until that moment. So okay, she just had to learn to be okay with Steve knowing everything about her and it’s really not a hard thing to learn because Steve cares. Steve cares so much and he obviously cares about Robin, and that’s enough for Chrissy.

Eddie grumbling when he finds out that Chrissy handles it better than he does, and maybe they should start telling each other everything about Steve and Robin. But he’s mostly just disappointed he hasn’t been able to get the jump on Robin yet. He can’t hate it though because he sees how happy they make each other. 

Steve and Robin, who try to hang out with other people, only to realise that when they get there, when they’re in the middle of whatever activity they’ve been convinced to take part in, they miss the other one and don’t actually want to be not hanging out with them. 

Steve and Robin needing to recharge their batteries with one another whenever they’ve been apart for longer than a day. Sometimes it’s sleepovers in the same bed, limbs twisted together and sharing each others clothes, but most of the time it’s sitting on opposite sides of the couch, half watching whatever they have on TV and not talking to each other. They just need to be in each others space, breathing the same air. 

They say the same thing at the same time all the time, and always treat it like its new and exciting, clambering over one another to wave their hands about and shout “oh my god! We’re the same person! We share a brain!”. Their friends know now not to say anything because they’ll only be met with glares and assertions that “you just don’t get it.” 

You can’t invite one of them to something and not the other. They just assume they’re both invited, they’re a package deal! And if someone tries to get them to come alone, they’re met with this sort of kicked puppy look and a quiet “but what about Robin?” or “what about Steve?”

The only real exception to the rule are Eddie and Chrissy who absolutely adore their partners other half, but need some alone time in their relationship. But they double date a lot, more than they do single dates. And it actually works out better that way because Eddie and Chrissy are almost as close as Steve and Robin (maybe without as much co-dependency), and they do fun things like play mini golf or go out to the city for a weekend where nobody knows who they are. 

Steve and Robin are bonded for life and if you want to be a part of their life in any capacity you just have to be okay with it.

[millersdjarin]

I Only See Daylight

Chapter Four

Pairing: Din Djarin x F!Reader

Rating: E (eventually)

Chapter warnings/tags: slow burn, dad!din, bonding, injuries (not in detail), negative self-talk, mentions of past trauma/abuse

Chapter Length: 4.2k

Previous Chapter | Series Masterlist & Info

notes: im sorry this chapter is a bit shorter than the others! if it's any consolation, a few of the chapters in this fic are 10k, so there's that. :) i've set a posting schedule of mondays and thursdays, but this week i'm posting on sunday because i'm going to be travelling on monday and i have to stay off tumblr to avoid tlou spoilers until the evening. so, surprise :)

i don't wanna look at anything else now that i saw you

“How do you feel?” Is the first thing you hear when you wake, rolling over on your makeshift bed to find Mando standing at the cave entrance again. He’s leaning against the wall with one shoulder, his hip cocked out, one leg bent casually. 

Kriffing hells, how is he so attractive when all you can see of him is his posture and his impossibly shiny armour? 

You force the thought from your mind, blaming it on your half-asleep state. 

“I don’t know yet,” you answer with a grimace. It’s been two days since your fall. The pain is better, though the rest of your body feels stiff now, muscle soreness finally catching up with you after the tumble. There hasn’t been another storm, at least, so Mando has managed to hunt for every meal so far. He goes out to get water every morning, filling canteens to the brim. He makes you drink so much that sometimes it feels like you’re swimming in it. “Hydration helps with healing,” he says every time, even though you already know; he says it just to counter your playful glaring at him every time he hands you the flask. 

“Sun rose not that long ago,” he cranes his neck to gaze up at the sky, “if you’re feeling up to it, we can probably travel today.” 

You manage to sit up, but the minute you do, pain shoots down from the wound on your calf and into your ankle. It circles there around the joint and throbs. “Have we got any more ice packs?” 

“One more,” Mando answers as he heads right over to his medpack and gets it out. 

“We should ration it,” you hold out your hand to stop him activating it. “For when we’re travelling. I’ll probably need it.” 

He looks down at the pack, hesitates. Then nods and puts it away. “Do you think you’ll be okay to travel today? If so, we should move soon, make the most of the daylight.”

Shifting a little, you try to get a gage on your body, how it feels. A grimace makes its way onto your face without your consent. Everything hurts. Literally everything. Muscles you didn’t even know you had are strained and stiff. 

But you’ve been here for two days. He’s been stranded here for four. 

“If the answer is anything but yes,” his voice cuts through your rapidly declining thoughts, “then my answer is no.” 

Relieved, you smile. But you protest, “Mando, you’ve stayed with me so long now. I can make my own way back.” 

“No,” he says definitively. “We move when you’re ready.” 

You relax, settling back against the wall. You’re too sore to argue. 

“The kid’s enjoying the vacation, anyway,” Mando says, the lilt of a smile in his voice. 

As if summoned, Grogu steps forward from his little bed at the back of the cave. He yawns, his tiny mouth opening as wide as it can go, his eyes screwing shut. 

Oh, Maker, he is adorable. 

“You take time off a lot?” You ask with a wry smile as Mando scoops the kid up into his arms. 

The huff of a laugh comes through his helmet. “Not really.” 

“Why am I not surprised?”

Mando tickles Grogu’s cheek, earning a little giggle. 

You watch them. There’s that warmth again, creeping its way between your ribs, around your heart. 

You have to look away. 

All three of you are starting to get a little stir crazy by the time the night comes around. 

You’re feeling better, though. Mando’s hydration obsession is working to help loosen out your stiff muscles. It doesn’t help, though, that you have to keep getting up every hour to pee. Especially because you have to tell Mando every time nature calls, which is, admittedly, rather humiliating—it shouldn’t be, it’s fucking natural, but he’s Mando and he’s been making you feel a certain way, and you don’t want to have to admit to this terrifying yet comforting man that you have to piss. It’s even worse that he has to help you hobble outside, then walk away while you do your business, and come back and pretend to not notice the puddle sinking into the ground. 

It’s demoralising. Your cheeks are tired from flushing red all the time. 

But he insists on you drinking enough, even when you protest. 

“I don’t mind doing this, you know,” he says as the sun sets, an arm around you as you hobble to the designated Nature Area. 

“Yes, you do,” you grumble, kind of just wanting the ground to open up and swallow you whole. 

“I don’t,” he insists. “It’s fine. Besides, it’s good to move a little.” 

“A little? Mando, it’s every hour, on the hour, at this point.” 

The unfamiliar sound of a soft laugh comes through his helmet. If you didn’t know any better, you’d say it sounded fond. But you’ve never heard a laugh like that. So. “It’s good. Just call me back when you’re ready.” 

He never comes back until you call, no matter how long it takes you.

It isn’t lost on you, either, that you never would have been able to do this on your own. You’d have had to piss where you sat. Which seems like a worse concept than just ruining your leg, and subsequent mobility, forever by forcing yourself to walk home. 

As darkness approaches, Mando takes his flashlight—yours is long dead by now—and puts it in the far end of the cave. He stays over there, rustling in his pack for something. Curious, you watch, wondering what he’s doing; he angles the light strangely, propping it up with a few stray rocks on the ground, and then fishes out a small piece of canvas, pulled from what remained of your tent. He puts it over the flashlight, folds it once. 

Then, the light is softer. Diffused around the cave. 

Grogu, who is sitting against the wall playing with a little silver ball, looks up at the newly-lit cave walls and laughs in glee. 

“You like it, kid?” Mando asks him. 

The kid claps his hands together, gazing around. Mando laughs softly and sits back down beside the kid, watching him. 

You’re watching Mando. It’s impossible not to, with the soft light reflecting from his armour in a new way, casting new highlights and shadows across every curve and edge. You wonder what places he’s been, how he’d look in all kinds of light. Harsh, bright, sunshine of a bright summer’s day, the dark ashy colour beneath rain clouds. 

“Mando?” You find yourself saying. 

He looks up at you, one hand holding the kid. 

“Tell me about somewhere else you’ve been,” you request. “Please?” 

“Where do you want to hear about?” 

“Anywhere. First place that comes to mind.” 

For a second, he’s quiet, just looking at you. Considering. When he speaks, he doesn’t say what you expected him to, and his voice is softer than it should be. “You really want to travel, don’t you?” 

And, okay. 

That hits a nerve. 

You look away, blinking. It’s clear that you’ve tensed, that something has made you uncomfortable; and you expect him to backtrack, to apologise, but he just waits. So patient, like he wouldn’t mind if you didn’t say anything, or even if you just told him to fuck right off. You wish you could see his face, decipher his expression. Match it to the soft curiosity of his lovely voice. 

“Yeah,” you manage on a shaky breath, imagining yourself up there, in the vastness of space, free to explore the Galaxy. “Yeah, I do.” 

Quiet again. He’s giving you space. 

You take it, let it sink in. 

Then, his voice is there again, “So why don’t you?”

And if that isn’t a question and a half. “It’s, uh,” you clear your throat. You’re about to say it’s complicated. But that doesn’t even cover the half of it. Instead, feeling a cold, familiar dread slowly creeping through your veins, you say, “I like it here.” 

He doesn’t say anything, but he looks at you still, some kind of unexplainable patience coming from his dark visor. 

It’s unclear if he can hear the omission of the truth.

You don’t want to lie to him. 

You’re sitting here, in a cave that he so beautifully lit as best he can, on top of a bed that he made just for you to be comfortable, after he’s helped you pee about twelve times a day for the last two days. He’s been nothing but kind. 

And it’s not that you feel like you owe him answers because of that. Nor, in fact, that you think he feels you owe him answers. His quiet, unassuming patience in the dim intimacy of this cave is proof enough of that. 

No, it’s not that. 

It’s that you’ve been alone for so long. You’ve never said this to anyone.

And after all this, once you’re back at your hut and you’ve fixed his ship together, he’s going to leave. And you’re never going to see him again, anyway. 

So. 

“Truthfully,” you say, “as much as I like it here, it’s not where I’d choose to be. If I had another choice.” 

Instead of staying still and silent, he starts to nod. His gaze is unwavering, solid and stable, weaving its way into the tension and uncertainty beneath your skin, soothing it.

Grogu gets up and waddles over to you. He climbs clumsily into your lap.

Then, with a quick look to Grogu, Mando says, “I understand.”

And that, those simple words, make something release in your chest.

The weight of your confession doesn’t feel as heavy as you’d expected. In fact, it feels like something has lifted in the air between the three of you. Like even the kid understands. 

Well.

This is new. 

-

As the third morning in the cave rolls around, you wake up feeling much better. 

Once you’ve relieved your always-full bladder, you tell Mando as much, staggering back into the cave and to your bed. “You can stop over-watering me now,” you tease as he lets you back against the wall, gentle. Your hands are on the backs of his arms, and slide all the way down them as he moves away. You wish you could linger there, and the way he moves so slowly, his visor gazing down into your sleepy eyes, makes you think that he wishes that, too. 

As your palms brush against his wrists, he seems to catch himself. He pulls away quickly and turns to distract himself with the kid.

“So, you’re ready to travel?” He asks. 

“As I’ll ever be,” you reply, staring at him from behind. He has a nice behind. (And you need to stop. Immediately.)

“You can lean on me. We’ll take it slow, I promise.” 

Kriff, say that again… “I’ll be alright. You’ve got enough to carry.” 

He looks at you again. “I’m leaving the parts here,” he says, like that should be obvious. 

“What?” You frown. “But your ship…” 

“Once we find our way back, and you’re safe, I’ll come back for them.” 

“Mando, I can manage. Seriously, we should take the parts. You’ve been here long enough.” 

The helmet tilts. “You trying to get rid of me?” It would concern you, if the teasing in his tone wasn’t arousingly obvious.

You just about manage to recover from the stirring in your belly, and you laugh, “Totally. Sick of you already.” 

The kid, standing beside him, looks at you and makes a sad noise. His ears turn down towards the ground. 

Kriff. “Hey, I’m just kidding,” you assure him with a smile. As a peace offering, you reach your hands out to him, and he relaxes in an instant, immediately plodding over to you and climbing into your lap. You hold him, give him a quick hug, then just let him sit there. “Don’t tell anyone, but I’m actually gonna miss you,” you whisper into his ear. He coos happily, tugging at a loose thread on your coat.

When you look up, Mando is, of course, staring at you. This time, you know for sure that it’s at both you and the kid.

“What?” You ask. 

“Nothing,” he answers after a moment of hesitation. “I’m going to pack up. Then we can move. You okay to sit with the kid?” 

“You know I am,” you smile, and watch as Mando nods and heads outside.

That pang in your chest is back. Well, you’re not sure when it turned from a slow warmth into a pang. 

But it’s there. Too obvious to ignore. 

For a few miles, you manage pretty well. It took some convincing, but you got Mando to agree to taking the parts along with him in the end. You do lean on him, but only when moving over particularly rough terrain, fallen logs, or exposed tree roots. 

“How we doing?” Mando asks at around noon. 

“Fine,” you say, feeling a little breathless. 

“You sure?” 

“I’m sure. We can stop soon for a break.” 

Another hour passes, your ankle is starting to throb, and you’re really fucking glad that you saved that ice pack for this exact moment. 

Mando sits you down on a fallen log, keeping his arm around you until you’re properly seated, lingering just a little too long for you to tame the way it makes your heart beat wildly. To feel the heat of him through his flight suit, your hands and arms pressed to parts of him not covered by armour, just the soft parts; it’s a lot. When you first saw him, this wall of metal, you never thought you’d see any further than that. Kriff, you never even thought he’d get closer to your hut than he was when you had your blaster pointed at him. 

Maybe that would have been best. Because if he’d just left, if there was another way for him to get the help he needed, you wouldn’t be thinking about him the way you are right now. 

The softness of the crook of his elbow, the curve of his waist and hip. The warmth of his skin that you have yet to see an inch of. All of the weapons strapped to him, so close to you, close enough that if it were anyone else, you’d be scared. 

But it’s Mando. 

This might be the least scared you’ve been in a lifetime. 

He cracks the ice pack to activate it, then kneels down in front of you. Reaching out to grab a smaller log, he places it under your ankle, elevates your leg slightly. Then his gloved fingers tug at the hem of your trousers. “Can I?” He asks. 

Kriff. You nod, unable to form words. 

The rough-yet-smoothness of the gloves is all you feel at first, brushing delicately against your skin as he lifts your trousers, then unlaces your boots, gently pulling them off, followed by your socks. Your ankle is more swollen than it had been this morning, but you’d expected that. 

And, besides, that is not what you’re thinking about right now. 

Instead your mind can only focus on the softness of his hold under your foot, the gentle way he places the ice pack on top of it. The heat of his hand starts to come through. You wish it was his bare skin. Wish you knew what his skin is like. Is it calloused, or soft from always protecting them? Does he have scars? Is the hair on his arms dark, light, a thin covering or thicker, perfect to run your fingers through—

His hands are gone before you realise it. It takes your glitching mind a second to catch up.

You chase him with your eyes, silently wishing for him to come back. 

But then. 

Then. 

As he turns away, he reaches for the flask in his satchel. You watch his hands lift to his helmet, take a gentle hold of the base of it. At first you panic, thinking he’s about to remove his helmet, no you don’t have to do that it’s okay—

But he just lifts it the tiniest bit, such a small movement that you only know it has been lifted because he puts the rim of his flask to his lips and takes a sip. 

You can’t see his skin, not a hint of it. But you can hear him drinking, hear the water against his lips, the gentle gulps as he swallows. 

And the way it entrances you, takes you away from the forest and the pain of your ankle and the fact that this is so not appropriate for you to be thinking—yeah, it’s probably for the best that he can’t ever show his face to you.

You look away before he even lowers the helmet again. 

-

Maybe the worst part about all this is that you’re starting to dread Mando and the kid leaving. 

That’s not how this was supposed to go, not how any of this was supposed to play out. You helped him because it was the right thing to do, because it’s exactly what They would tell you not to do, because your life has been the same every single fucking day since you got here. 

But that’s been fine. It’s been safe. 

“Pass me that wrench?” Mando asks, breaking you out of your thoughts. 

You pass him it, noting the tilt of his helmet in a wordless ‘thanks’ before he turns back to his job. He’s up on a ladder, leaning against the ship’s exterior wall with one of the panels fully off, fixing something to do with the foundation for the body. 

His ship is bigger than you’d expected. He tells you that it’s bigger than his old ship, the Razor Crest, but only by a little. “It’s a similar shape,” he’d said, “but it has two bunks and more space. For the kid.” He has a star fighter too, apparently, docked at some other base off-world with a friend of his. It’s funny to imagine him with friends, though you’re not sure why. Especially because, since getting to know him the last few days, you know how generous he is. How kind, helpful. Gentle, despite everything. 

Why wouldn’t he have friends?

Beneath him, you sit on a crate and lean against the ship, waiting for him to give you more instructions. The engine has been mostly fixed now, as much as it’s ever going to be out here in the middle of nowhere using scrounged-up parts. He’s just getting the last of the body work done, enough to make sure it’s aerodynamically sound. 

It’s interesting, watching him work. You ask a lot of questions, and every time you do, you expect a frustrated sigh or an exasperated response. But he answers every question thoroughly, and it doesn’t even distract him from his work. 

The sun is warm against your face. The afternoon of Mando’s fifth day on this planet is drawing to a close, fading into the evening. As the sky turns to duller shades of blue, tinted with oranges and pinks, you can’t help but admire the way he looks beneath the light. His armour is always the same, always so distinctive, yet it reflects different lights in different ways. Sometimes it makes the beskar appear darker, like a gun metal grey. Other times it’s a bright silver. Then there are times like this, when it goes with the colour of the sky, reflects the beauty of everything surrounding him. 

You think back to the light in the cave, how that looked different still. The urge to see the Galaxy comes over you again, though this time it’s not staring at his ship and dreaming about taking off in it that does it; this time, it’s wondering what he looks like in even more places, more environments. Does the metal get hot in the sunshine? Or is it always as cool as it’s been when you’ve had the chance to feel it before? 

The kid is sitting on the ground in front of you. There’s a beetle scuttling around in the mud, and Grogu is toying with it, blocking it off when it runs one way, then doing the same when it runs the other. You wonder if he’s going to eat it, or if he’s just having fun by being cruel to the little six-legged creature. 

“Don’t play with your food,” Mando says to him, answering your silent question. 

Grogu looks up at him. His ears turn downwards, sulking. Mando ignores his obvious pleas to change his mind, turning back to his work. When Grogu looks back at the beetle, he only just catches it before it runs off, and instead of toying with it anymore, he just shoves it in his mouth with a loud crunch. 

You find yourself smiling at him. He smiles back, ears lifting again. 

“Alright,” Mando starts to step down from the ladder. You reach out and hold one of the ladder’s legs, knowing he probably doesn’t need you to, but still not wanting to risk it. Ladders make you nervous. “Think that’s the best we’re going to get.” 

You look up to the ship. He’s fixed the panel back on again. Now all that remains is the burnt metal from his “interesting landing”, with some bends in it, exposing little sections of the framework beneath. It’s definitely a patchwork job. But it looks better than it did when you got here this morning. So.

“How’s your leg?” He asks as he folds up the ladder. 

“Good,” you answer. It’s stretched out in front of you, propped on another crate. “Ship looks good.” 

With a resigned sigh, he puts his hand on his hips, and tilts his helmet to look up at his handiwork. “No, she doesn’t. But she’ll do.” Then he looks back to you, “I couldn’t have fixed it without your help. Thank you.” 

You shift under his gaze, unable to help it. Every time he looks at you it feels like his eyes can see right through you, and the part that makes you uncomfortable is that it doesn’t make you uncomfortable. Self-conscious and disgustingly aware of your own inappropriate, lustful thoughts? Yes. Uncomfortable? No. You don’t think it ever could. 

“Of course,” you say eventually. “And, hey, I’ve got a scar to remember our little adventure by, huh?” 

He laughs softly. You see the shake of his chest as the chuckle comes through his modulator. “I’m not sure that’s a good thing.” 

“Hm, no. But there’s no gift shop around here. So.” 

He shakes his head, and you imagine, hope, that he’s smiling under all that beskar. He certainly looks casual, a hand on one hip, one leg relaxed while his weight rests on the other. 

“Do you always stare so much?” You find yourself asking with a teasing, daring quirk of your brow. 

“Yes.”

“At everyone, or just me?”

He pauses. Your heart rate spikes briefly as you wait for his response to your terrible excuse for flirting. “At everyone,” he answers eventually, and disappointment starts to set in before he says, “But it’s harder to look away from you.” 

Oh. 

The disappointment quickly shifts to nervousness, heart beating fast again as you clench your hands in your lap. He just stands there, staring despite the awkward and loaded silence between you, and stares. As if he’s making his point by offering an example. 

You look away. Suddenly, your cheeks are hot. “You hungry?” You find yourself asking. 

He pauses again, then nods. “Yes.” 

“I’ll make us some dinner. You just come back to the hut whenever you’re ready.” It’s only as you stand to hobble back home that you realise he might not want that. You swivel back around to face him, backtrack, “I mean, unless you want to eat out here. Your ship’s fixed now, I guess you can—you can stay in that? You don’t have to come back with me. I’ll be okay.” 

Again, getting more and more infuriating with each silence he lets stretch out, he just stares. Kriffing hells, does he ever stop!? 

“Would you let me cook for you?” He asks, finally.

You weren’t expecting that. 

Shifting weight to your good leg, you raise your eyebrows. “You want to cook me dinner?” 

He nods once. “Yes. To thank you for all your help. And as a farewell.” 

You’ve been trying your hardest not to think about that part. It sits in your stomach, cold and dreadful and confusing, too far down for you to swallow it. “Alright,” you agree with a soft smile. “I can’t promise I’ve got any decent ingredients, though. You might have to perform a miracle.” 

“I’m up to the challenge,” he says, hooking his thumb over the belt around his hips. You’re distracted by it, finding your eyes sliding down to his middle before you catch yourself and look back up. The tilt of his helmet suggests he might have seen your gaze shift. “I’ll walk back with you. Just give me a minute.” 

You can’t find a reason to refuse. 

♡ updates posted Mondays and Thursdays ♡

notes: thank you for reading! all interactions are appreciated as always, but comments and reblogs especially fuel my need for validation ❤️ as always, the title and lyrics at the start are from taylor swift's "daylight"

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[itsswritten]

But I love you

Prompt: “But I love you”

Pairing: bucky x reader

Word count: 700+

Summary: Sometimes love isn’t enough :(

A/n: This is a one-shot for an angstober prompt. My first time posting, please be nice I haven’t written anything in years. So let me know what you think 💭 and constructive criticism is welcome! If you would like me to write anything else, send me a message 🫶🏻

“But I love you” Bucky spoke, voice breaking as he looked down at his hands.

You were both sat beside each other on the sofas in the common area of the compound. Bucky hadn’t looked at you for the entire conversation, you were glad he hadn’t. You weren’t so sure you could do this if you had to look into his all-consuming blue eyes. His leg was barely touching yours and it took all your strength to not press yours against him, into that familiar warmth of his body.

“That’s the problem Jamie” you broke, wiping the tears that were already falling.

You smiled as you spoke, smiling at the sheer ridiculousness of the situation. How could loving someone be the reason why it hand to end? But it wasn’t just love, it’s was unwavering obsession, a blind infatuation, blazing dependency that entangled you both.

Addiction. You were addicted to one another. But every addict had a dealer, someone who would encourage your bad habits even though they were wrong. You enabled the darkest parts of one another, forgave each other for things that weren’t your place to forgive.

You and Bucky had met at the wrong time. Too early in your healing journeys. Two broken people finding solace within the cracks of one another. Rose tinted glasses hiding the shadows that lurked only just below the skin.

You had plenty of baggage, trauma to unpack and wrongs to right. When you first joined the Avengers you thought that maybe this would be your redemption. Your chance to change things, prove to people that you weren’t the monster that Hydra made you to be. It was supposed to be the same for Bucky too. But fighting a few bad guys doesn’t erase the past, and it certainly doesn’t erase the damage in your minds.

And although you were there to comfort one another after the nightmares and panic attacks…sometimes you fed each other a delusion. Helped one another avoid the truth of your realities. The reality being that you both needed help and time to heal.

“You love me so much…so much so that you put me on this unrealistic pedestal.” You raised your hands up in the air as you looked up “you think I’m a saint, that I’m perfect-”

“But you are perfect…perfect for me” he argued back, finally lifting those blue eyes to yours. Tears brimmed the edges of his eyes. He didn’t understand, couldn’t wrap his head around what was happening. He had finally found someone who understood him, someone who mirrored every part of him.

It was around a year after Bucky had joined the Avengers that they found you. Perfectly stored on ice in a forgotten Hydra facility. Your story was very similar to his own and you both quickly bonded over your traumas.

“Baby please I can’t lose you…” Bucky choked out. He’d moved onto his knees in front you, arm wrapping round your waist and flesh hand caressing your cheek. He would beg and beg if he had to. He needed you. “I can’t do this… without you”

“But that’s the thing Bucky, I know that you can” you rested your hand on his, your thumb rubbing gently while you ran you hand through the ends of this hair.

“You are so much stronger than you think, and right now I’m holding you back” you nodded as if to reassure yourself what you were saying was true. “We’re holding each other back”

You both had some healing to do, and that needed to be done alone.

﹏

You and Bucky had stayed tangled in each others arms the rest of that night, sharing final kisses and soft whispers. Promises of reconnection once you had both healed.

That was the thing though, your healing took you both to different places. Despite you both learning to accept and forgive the darkest parts of yourself, your outcomes were very different. A year on you were ready to rekindle with your love, your Jamie being on your mind everyday since your departure.

But Bucky…he felt different. It took him a long time to finally accept himself and he found comfort in the idea leading a simple life with a simple love.

The reality sunk in when he saw you. You were a mirror of him completely, the good and bad. And as much as he had grown to accept his own reflection, you weren’t going to give him a simple love.

“But I love you” you muttered, staring up at the man you thought you knew. His hair was short now, and his blue eyes held a sadness within them.

Love wasn’t enough.

[soaps-mohawk]

Ok anon asking what would happen if another omega came in ur a genius

bc now I’m wonder what ur take is on hypothetically what would happen if they had another omega into the pack?

because Price was the one who claimed reader first, he’s technically “her alpha”, so would the new omega technically be assigned to be claimed by Ghost first to become “his omega” or would John also claim her, being the pack alpha?

furthermore, what would sharing look like? Would it be evenly distributed? I image the boys (for the sake of keeping things calm) would try to make it so, but I imagine it can be hard.

because what omega wouldn’t be possessive of their pack when a new omega (a tank who’s made to be loved and doted on by alphas) is coming in? (I know I would 🙋‍♀️).

If the New Omega is coming from an institute like reader, which I assume would be the easiest supply of omegas for adding into military packs, I image she would also be relatively damaged and need a lot of attention to heal, just like reader has (she’s nowhere near healed ofc, but we’re getting there)

If we’re going down the angst route, just imagining the tension and irritation of having to share your bed and your alpha and your beta with some newcomer, having to watch them get attention that was previously just on you, UGHH I can feel it and IRS NOT EVEN REAL

and that’s how you get a depressed omega WHOOPS

I imagine everyone in the pack would have to work REAL HARD to make sure reader never gets left out despite the newcomer, that she still always has access to her alpha’s support whenever she needs it, and that she doesn’t feel any less loved than before.

my raging jealousy issues COULD NOT I would throw a hissy fucking fit

(Honestly that’s the fun thing about a/b/o. There’s so many different facets and factors that plug into everything that any new scenario you introduce can be worked into the world building and it makes it sooo much more rich and dramatic HRG I LOVE IT)

— 🌘 !

So, I think if they added another omega, it would be for Simon (and by extension Johnny) to have an omega. It would offer more of a balance, one beta and omega for each alpha. So Price wouldn't necessarily need to claim the second omega, because Simon could be the one doing that (if they found an omega he would be interested in).

Price could claim the new omega too, depending on how the relationships develop, but he wouldn't necessarily have to since it's pretty common in larger packs with multiple alphas for each alpha to claim their own omega. They do occasionally share and two can claim one omega, but typically each alpha has at least one omega they've claimed.

That being said, I don't think there would be a lot of jealousy from the reader if they did bring in a second omega. It's a very common occurrence, and even though the reader came from a small family pack, she still knows that's a reality and to a degree prepared for the possibility of being chosen and claimed by an alpha in a larger pack. The 141 is slightly different in their structure than larger packs (given there's only five of them), but adding a second omega would kind of smooth that out a bit.

There might be a little jealousy at the beginning during the adjustment stage as the others attempt to bond with and make the new omega more comfortable. If that omega came from an institute, however, I think that would only serve for a bonding opportunity for the reader and the new omega. Shared trauma and all of that. Only they really would know what it was like, and so having someone there who you can talk to who understands would be a great way to open up and get closer to each other.

Pack relationships can be pretty fluid so I don't think the new omega would stand in the way of the reader and Johnny's bond, or even Simon, just as the reader wouldn't really stand in the way of the new omega bonding with Gaz or Price. They need those bonds to be a cohesive and stable pack, and they wouldn't necessarily have to be romantic or sexual in nature. Platonic bonds and familial bonds are just as strong as the others.

Honestly, the omegas would be spending a lot of time together and I think the only jealousy would be from the guys because they would get so close so fast lol. They would definitely use it against the guys too, laying the "sweet little omegas being cute together" on thick to get what they want. They'd probably become the closest out of the entire pack, because as I've said before when I discussed jealousy, only omegas know what it's like being omegas. They don't have it easy and they have a lot of shared experiences regardless of their backgrounds, and so they don't really see each other as competition or a potential threat. They tend to bond pretty quickly together, when it's allowed, because there's a lot of empathy and sympathy for each other.

So yeah, that's kind of how that would play out. Jealousy isn't really a thing, unless an alpha is purposefully neglecting an omega in favor of another, which just wouldn't happen in this situation because that causes some serious disruption in pack bonds and stability, and the 141 needs to be a very cohesive and stable pack in order to function efficiently and effectively. Plus, I just don't see the guys doing something like that. They'd definitely make sure both omegas feel loved equally.