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little-diable · 1 year

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Never let me down again - Dean Winchester (smut)

Inspired by the song "Never let me down again" (Jessica Mazin's version) and by The Last of Us. Please like and reblog if you enjoyed reading this. Enjoy my loves. xxx

Summary: Something is happening, chaos is breaking out and while (y/n) waits for Dean and Sammy to return, she slowly realises that the brothers won't come back for her. But perhaps she will eventually cross paths with them again

Warnings: 18+, smut, unprotected sex, TLOU apocalypse (but no TLOU story line), some angst, friends to lovers

header by @deathofpeaceofmind

I′m taking a ride with my best friend, I hope, he never lets me down again

“Look at me, don’t look away, look at me.” Dean had his hand tightly gripping her chin, green eyes staring right into hers. While hers reflected the fear she felt, Dean didn’t allow himself to give in, to make her feel what he was feeling – which was a shitton at the moment. The world was ending, not in the way Dean, Sammy, and (y/n) had always thought it would, no, this was worse, so much worse. “I’ll be back in an hour maximum, with Sammy, and then we’ll leave together. You’ll wait here, you won’t leave, not until you hear me or Sammy, are we clear?”

“You can’t leave me, Dean, fuck, please.” Tears dripped down her chin, sitting on the ground of their dark motel room, eyes threatening to flicker to the TV Dean had silenced minutes ago. Screams echoed through the night, followed by the sound of cars honking, a chaos (y/n) felt herself overwhelmed with.

“I won’t be able to concentrate on finding Sammy if I have to worry about you. Promise me, sweetheart, please.” Her tears kept falling, one by one, projecting the hurt she felt, the fear thumping through her veins, and the sadness overcoming her like a tsunami wave. Dean pressed a kiss to the corner of her mouth, rising from the ground to reach for his gun. And with one last glance thrown (y/n)’s way, he left the motel room.

She crawled along the ground with shaking limbs, locking the door before she pushed the chair in front of it. Whatever was going on outside there was worse than any monster the three hunters have crossed paths with, any supernatural creature they’ve fought so far. Whatever was now turning the world upside down was something she hadn’t ever fought against, and neither have the WInchesters.

(Y/n) had never felt as much fear thumping through her veins as she felt in this very moment, whimpering whenever another crash could be heard, whenever another scream echoed through the night or when she felt the ground shake. Every now and then the sound of a gun going off rang in her ears, a sound she had once been all too used to but was now shaken by.

Fuck, she could only hope that Dean and Sammy would find her soon, to leave this state behind, hiding away in a remote area till this all died down. For the past hours, perhaps even days, the chaos had been building up, and now she was stuck, in a fucking motel room in a city she had never been in before. Her heart was beating fast, roaring in her chest to call out to Dean’s, the best friend she was longing for, needing to feel him close.

Dean Winchester had been her saving grace, the one she could rely on, the one that would always save her life, whenever she needed him to. But the sinking feeling inside her chest seemed to tell her that this time he wouldn’t be able to save her life, no, not this time.

(Y/n) watched the minutes tick by, slowly turning into an hour, and then another. The night was dark, and yet it felt like the sun would never rise again, one with the darkness lingering outside her door. Shaky fingers dialed Dean’s phone number over and over again, followed by Sam’s, the only numbers she knew by heart. But neither of them picked up her calls, leaving her behind in the cold motel room.

(Y/n) waited till morning to pack her bags. No longer was she crying salty tears of sadness, no, she was filled with anger, anger directed at the world outside. And even though she knew that Dean wouldn’t ever leave her behind, she couldn’t tell what she was feeling – fear, perhaps even disappointment? The realisation that Dean and Sammy wouldn’t return had hit her like a train, forcing her to heave for air as her lungs grew tighter.

And with a shaky breath exhaled, she shouldered her bag, leaving the room with her eyes set on the chaos that was awaiting her.

---

We're flying high, we're watching the world pass us by

The forest was quiet, allowing (y/n) to relax for a few moments. She had been wandering through this area for the past few days, not used to a quietness like this. (Y/n) could barely remember the day she had left that motel all those years ago, fighting her way through the chaos, getting used to the bone chilling, clicking sounds.

She had met a few people along the way, people she stuck with for a while, before parting from them again. If there was one thing her past life as a hunter has taught her, it was to never trust people, no matter how long you may know them. A rule she stuck to, no matter how dear the people around her were to her.

Every now and then (y/n)'s thoughts would wander back to Dean and Sam, she could only hope that the two brothers had somehow made it out, even though she couldn’t understand why they hadn't made their way back to her that night. For a long time she had been torn between anger and sadness, emotions she had eventually buried within herself, not wanting to use her energy on missing those she had once loved.

Every now and then (y/n) picked up on the sound of a few nearby birds, guiding her through the forest. She didn’t know where she was, at least not her exact location, since the torn map she carried around was too faded out for her to make out the town names she could use to locate her surroundings. But since she was wandering around without a specific place in mind, she didn’t really care much about where she was going.

Her eyes felt heavy, just like her limbs, still not used to wandering around for hours on end, while staying on high alert. With a yawn roaring through her, (y/n) haltered in her step, eyes taking in her surroundings as she was weighing her options. The street was close to where she was standing, she could make it out through the big trees surrounding her, and yet she doubted that anybody would actually drive or wander past her.

With a sigh (y/n) dropped to the ground, thumping through her rucksack to find something to stuff down her throat, needing to fuel her body for her upcoming hike. The food barely had any taste to it, resting heavily on her tongue, and yet she paid no mind to it, trying to imagine how something had tasted all those years ago, when her life had been circling around supernatural creatures and beings she no longer could care for.

Her eyes fluttered close, body pressed against a tree trunk to find some rest. (Y/n) counted her breaths, deeply inhaling to try and relax. She struggled to stop her thoughts from racing, from overthinking her next steps and the questions arising whenever she had a few calm moments. Perhaps she’d try to find some new people for a while, joining those that were trying to survive, one with the rough nature and the colder days that were now coming upon her.

Just as (y/n) found herself dozing off, finally letting loose, the sound of a car echoed through the air. Her eyes shot open, head whipping towards the street. Without thinking twice she rose to her feet, rushing towards the street to hopefully find some people that may take her to the nearest community. Whenever she did something like this she could hear Dean’s voice in her ears, warning her of strangers, people she didn’t know anything about. But those warnings were long forgotten, left behind like the friendship she and Dean had once fostered.

She froze in her step, wide eyes focused on the nearing black car. It was an Impala, unmistakingly the same car she had once known like the back of her hand. Perhaps it was a trick of her tired brain, making her fall for lies, simple hallucinations, and yet the car kept moving closer, slowing down eventually. (Y/n)’s eyes could make out a pair of green ones, eyes she’d see in her dreams when she got fortunate enough to dream of Dean and the life they could have lived together.

For a second neither (y/n) nor the two men inside the car dared to move, wide eyes focused on one another’s frame, though the second she took another step towards them, they ripped their car doors open, stepping out into the cold. Both had clearly aged, just like she had, and yet they somehow still looked the same to her.

“(Y/n)? Sweetheart?” God, that voice. A trembling sob rumbled through her, eyes glassy, vision blurred as she fell into Dean’s arms. She clung to the man she had once called her best friend, deeply inhaling his comforting scent. Violent sobs wrecked through (y/n), unable to understand that the two men she hadn’t seen in years were now standing this close. “I thought you were dead, fuck, you weren’t at the motel.”

Dean’s words were muffled, spoken against her forehead, but (y/n) picked up on them just fine, freezing in his grasp, “I left in the morning, I didn’t think you’d come back.”

“But I promised, I wouldn’t ever leave you behind just like that.”

---

Promises me, I′m as safe as houses; As long as I remember who's wearing the trousers

The sun was about to rise upon the horizon as Sam ripped open the doors of the Impala, stretching his limbs before he opened his bag to change his clothes. It had been hours since the three had found each other, hours they’ve used to catch up, to share stories and memories of a past life. Eventually Dean had parked the Impala on the side of the road, pulling (y/n) against him to find some rest on the backseat. And somehow it strangely felt like nothing had changed, as if the three had fallen back into the routine without thinking back to all those years apart.

“I can’t believe he is still going for runs.” (Y/n) murmured against Dean’s neck, his laughter rumbled through him, ringing in her ears like a song she had almost forgotten about. Dean tightened his grip on her waist as his free hand found her face, cupping her cheek to get a better look at her tired features.

“I missed you, there wasn’t a day where I didn’t think of you.” His words were whispered, confessed as if they were hiding away in holy halls. It took her a moment to reply, torn between the racing of her heart and the tiredness that still clung to her limbs. She felt his warm breath fanning her lips, calling her closer like a siren’s song, ready to drown in the arising waves of lust.

“‘Missed you too, I didn’t think I’d ever get to see you again.” Dean’s gaze flickered to her lips, overthinking for a moment or two before he closed the gap between them. And for a moment the world stopped spinning, just a small second, a disturbance in the universe one wouldn’t pick up on if they weren’t living through the moment with the two of them. (Y/n) kissed back with enough strength to draw a groan from Dean’s plush lips, needing to feel her as close as humanly possible.

Dean sat up, without interrupting the kiss, grinding her core against his crotch, allowing her to feel his hardening cock pressing against the fabric of his jeans. Both didn’t have much time, and yet they didn’t think about stopping themselves from giving into the pull they felt, needing to touch one another like they should have done all those years ago.

Big hands disappeared beneath her shirt, moving up her sides to find the fabric of her worn out bra, cupping her breasts. (Y/n)’s moans filled the car, echoing through the Impala like a song being played on the radio, past moments she now longed for. She ground her hips against his, desperate for more friction, needing to feel more of Dean and the body she had always longed for.

“Fuck, we need to hurry, can’t have Sammy seeing you like this.” Dean murmured the words, hands letting go of her only to work on the buttons of her trousers, helping her out of them before he freed his cock. (Y/n) watched him pump his cock a few times, gaze flickering between his hand and his features, praying that she’d be able to ingrain this moment into her thoughts till she’d take her last breath. “I got you, do you trust me?”

A moan rumbled through her as she nodded her head, hovering over his cock with trembling limbs. With Dean’s hand placed on her side, she sunk down on his cock, groaning as he filled her, perfectly stretching her walls. Both stilled for a moment, needing to relish in this very moment, the unfamiliar feeling, something their old selves had been dreaming of.

It felt like a fever dream, and yet (y/n) hoped that she’d never wake from this, forever stuck in the backseat of Baby with Dean oh so close. He helped her move, supporting her with his hands on her hips. Both moaned for one another, wordlessly communicating the emotions flushing through their veins. She felt him twitch inside of her, making her walls squeeze with every rushed movement, knowing that there was no time left to waste.

Curses spluttered from Dean’s lips, lips (y/n) chased with her own, kissing him breathless. His hand found her middle, thumb circling her clit to push her further to the edge. It had been years since they had slept with somebody, and yet both Dean and (y/n) could swear that it had never been like this, a match made years ago.

(Y/n) came with a cry of Dean’s name, head thrown back, hands tightening their grip on his shirt. He jerked his hips, thrusting into her a few more times before he hurriedly pushed her away, releasing himself on her lower stomach. Both were heavily panting, not able to hide the smiles tugging on their lips, searching one another’s closeness in fear that the moment may break all too soon.

Dean helped her clean up before they redressed, pulling her back into his chest for a few moments of silence, eyes tightly pressed shut to relive the past moments all over again. (Y/n) could hear his heart racing in his chest, pounding against his ribcage, perfectly in tune with hers.

“I don’t know how I’ve managed to survive these last years without you, but I know that I don’t ever want to do it again.” His murmurs left her smiling, face buried in the crook of his neck to hide her expressions from him. It took her a few moments to reply, slowly lifting her head to get a better look at Dean.

“You’re not getting rid of me, Dean Winchester, not even in a world like this one.”

See the stars they′re shining bright, everything's alright tonight

#Dean Winchester smut #Dean Winchester imagine #the last of us #supernatural imagine

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rindomness · 8 months

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i didnt post the animation in my header did i. anyway. heres the boy (again). if you shook him upside down psychological issues would fall out like spare change

#rin draws stuff #persona 5 #phantom shuffle au #hes got sooooo many problems <3

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parkermunson · 2 years

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Eddie the Undead

Summary: Eddie lies lifeless in your arms while you grapple with his recent death. While the gang attempts to comfort you, Eddie comes back. He's scared, terrified even, and only you bring him out of it. But when you're trying to sooth him, you realize Eddie's changed in the short time he was gone. Reader has no gender. [1.1k]

TW: Character death, shock, fear, Grief, vamp!Eddie

A/N: Originally wanted to write something totally different but my brain had other plans. I love vamp!Eddie, but I never read something that shows him in fear, and I definitely think anyone would be terrified if they 'woke up' after thinking they died, surrounded by demobats. Also, grief is really hard to write, but I'm hoping the general feel came across here. Let me know your thoughts! Might add more to this eventually. Header and dividers made by me :)

Eddie's body was lifeless against your lap. Dustin sat next to you with tears pooling down his cheeks, yet you couldn't find it in yourself to comfort him. You couldn't feel anything– the warm tears on your face continued to fall but it was almost as if you couldn't remember why. The haze fogging your brain only grew with each sob from Dustin. You stared blankly ahead, past the bodies of demobats surrounding you, into the dark distance of trees. The blood in your veins almost felt like it stopped when Eddie's heart did.

Muted yelling could be heard somewhere. Perhaps the rest of the group, or maybe more monsters. It didn't matter anymore. The ringing silence in your ears mixed with the dull pain in your chest from heartbreak were the only things your were aware of. Aside from the weight on your legs, unmoving.

Your friends appeared in your vision, each handling the situation in their own manner– Robin blabbering out diseases caused by bats and to check for wounds, Steve keeping a distance but asking for explanations and answers to questions you weren't hearing, and Nancy doing her best to move you and Dustin away from the body. His body. With every slight shove from Nancy, your arms gripped tighter around Eddie's shoulders. No words had to be spoken for the point to get across– you weren't moving.

In all this time, you never looked down. Couldn't bear to see your boyfriend lying there. It wasn't until Robin kneeled beside you and laid a hand on your shoulder, causing the floodgates to break open. You were only mildly aware you were screaming. Your chest felt as though someone had punched it open, and your throat closed, silencing your screaming. Tears blocked your vision while you fought for air, just to release what little you caught with a heavy sob. No feeling would ever compare to how badly this hurt, both mentally and physically.

You grabbed at Eddie's jacket, pulling him further into your lap. You tried clawing at his body, getting him closer, only to be disappointed that you couldn't absorb his body into your's. The friends surrounding you watched wordlessly, not knowing how to help. It wasn't the safest place to be– in the Upside Down, out in the open, surrounded by monsters. Nonetheless, it was the only place you wanted to be, by Eddie.

You grabbed his head and held it close to you. He was still warm, with wet eyes, wet blood. The more you held him, the heavier he felt in your arms. The coldness of the Upside Down was seeping into his body by the second, gnawing away at the last bits of life he possessed. His glowing skin grew pale beneath you and the blood in his cheeks receded. Dustin crawled up beside you and closed Eddie's eyes, out of respect or trauma, you weren't sure. Your arms were screaming under Eddie's weight but you couldn't seem to move. Not that you would have anyway.

The exhaustion in your arms brought an end to your crying. The group around you was conversing, but your ears continued to mute them. Grief isn't a multitasker. You stared at Eddie's face, taking in his minor imperfections. After all, this may be the last time you ever see them. A funeral was most likely out of the question with Hawkins' opinion toward him. Your hand brushed a stray hair out of his face, the shakiness in your movement noticed by everyone but you. Your other hand held underneath his head, cradling him close, while his torso's weight rested in your arm.

His lips were beginning to fade to a bluish hue, unnerving you. Bodies don't do this. You're no doctor (mortician?) but at least you know it takes hours for the blood to settle. It had maybe been half an hour? An hour at most? Time was forgotten, but not too much of a foreign concept to realize how wrong this was. You felt his neck and found it freezing, almost the same temperature as the soil beneath you. Every inch of your body was telling you to push him away, that this wasn't Eddie anymore. But it still had Eddie's face, his clothes, his scent.

You looked up at your friends. Their crunched brows aimed at you, Eddie's oddly quick decomposition going unnoticed by them. When you opened your mouth to speak, a deep inhale came from beneath you. The weight lifted off your arm and a flurry of coughing followed, but not from you. Eddie was hunched over, gasping for air. His hair surrounding his face. It was dead silent between all of you except for Eddie's lungs desperately searching for air.

Your mouth hung open as you watched in shock at the once-dead body of Eddie Munson finding his grip on oxygen. He was breathing heavily, still hunched over. Your hand slowly reached for his shoulder, lightly touching it before your brain could think of a reason to run. He turned quickly, his eyes wide. It was fear, you realized. He fell back and his hand grazed the body of a demobat. He pulled away quickly, not realizing the monster was dead. No one moved while Eddie found his bearings. He found an open space, a small distance from the group, and curled his knees up to rest his head against them, while his arms wrapped around his legs. This was no creature– this was Eddie, a terrified Eddie completely unaware of the events that just took place.

–

It took a long time for Eddie to uncurl his body, but your voice made him feel safe. The moment he dropped his legs, his arms wrapped around your waist, tightly. It almost hurt how strong he was gripping you. With one hand petting his hair, and the other rubbing his back, he slowly loosened his arms around you. You looked over your shoulder to your friends and gave them an unknowing look. You were as confused as they were. Nothing about this was normal.

You continued rubbing your hand across his back when you noticed he was still cold against you. You put your hand underneath his chin and raised it to meet his eyes. Two glowing red orbs greeted you in place of his usual chocolate irises. For a moment, your heart completely stopped and a scream almost escaped. But Eddie's eyes were wet, those red buttons were partly covered with a layer of tears that sunk your heart.

No words had been spoken since Eddie's.. resurrection. What could be said? He probably didn't even know he was dead for an extended amount of time. An amount of time no human should come back from. You had a creeping suspicion Eddie might not be human anymore.

I just wanted to add a little note at the end here. Last year, I lost two of my best friends and they meant the world to me. Grief is nothing to be ashamed of, or even scared of. It's all the unexpressed love you still hold for that person. Sometimes it's so overwhelming, your brain can't process it and shuts off your emotions, like you read here. If y'all need to talk, my inbox is always open.

#eddie munson x you #eddie munson #eddie munson fanfic #eddie munson imagine #vampire eddie x reader #vampire eddie munson #stranger things #stranger things imagine #stranger things fanfiction #stranger things 4 #joseph quinn #mandi writes #parkermunson

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crappymixtape · 1 year

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save me from this darkness

header art by: @cherbearsz ♥️ • https://cherbearsz.tumblr.com/

S A V E M E F R O M T H I S D A R K N E S S 🎶 hard times, ethel cain

will's not even sure why he went to his room in the first place, but it's dark. impossibly dark despite the lamp at his bedside. despite the moon trying to shine through the window and he just feels so alone. stuck between this vivid technicolor version of hawkins and the other twisted lifeless suffocating upside down version of hawkins. he can feel the panic attack taking root in his chest, his pulse fluttering against his neck. feels his arms start to tingle. feels the numbness in his hands. throat squeezing tight. he tries to take in a breath, but it's shallow and he needs more air and he's drowning in it and tears prick at the corners of his eyes, but then there's a knock at his door.

"will?" he looks up. it's mike. mike and his deep brown eyes. mike and the long, soft sweep of dark lashes. mike and that smile. but it falters when he sees the tears in will's eyes and he's at his side in a few long strides. "what's wrong? is it him? are you okay?" will feels his tears finally well up and spill down his cheeks. he tries to smile, but it crumbles and falls and he takes in a trembling breath.

"i'm just so alone, mike. i'm so alone." and then mike's hand is gently cupping the curve of his jaw and he's looking at will, really looking, and it makes him feel like it always does. like he's seen. like he's real. like the pain is real. and more tears fall, but the rough pad of mike's thumb is brushing them away softly.

"you're not alone. ever. okay? i'm here. i'll always be here. i promise."

and mike's just holding will and will is trying so hard to let go of the fear inside. trying so hard to trust mike. trying to believe him and he can see the younger versions of themselves. tucked together just like this on that halloween night when everything felt so hopeless and he can hear their voices:

'if we're both going, then we'll go crazy together, right?' 'yeah. crazy together.'

and then mike leans in. pulls will close. brushes their noses together. catches will's lip between his and it's soft and bright and will can feel hope blooming in chest like wildflowers in the field and the dark is losing it's grip on him, slipping and fading and crying out as this bright shining light washes over him.

his light. his hope. his heart.

mike.

crappymixtape™ • stranger things masterlist // steve harrington masterlist

#will byers #mike wheeler #byler #byler one shot #byler is canon #byler endgame #byler tumblr #byler fanfic #will x mike #will byers x mike wheeler #stranger things #stranger things fanfiction #stranger things fic #byler is endgame #mike wheeler i know what you are #byler canon #byler is real #mike x will #byler is requited

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harrington-love · 6 months

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All The Little Moments (That Brought Me Back To You)

Summary: A piece in which Nancy Wheeler falls back in love with Steve Harrington

Notes:

My first ever (completed) Steve Harrington x Nancy Wheeler piece. Of course, this is dedicated to my wonderful discord pals who have become my own found family. This wouldn't have been possible without their love, encouragement, and support. This story focuses more on Nancy's perspective, thoughts, and feelings in her season four scenes with Steve, with a few of my own made up events that follow the very last episode. As for the actual canon events and dialogue that happened in season four, I do NOT claim those as my own. I also do NOT claim the characters as my own. All the credit, rightfully so, goes to the writers of this fantastic show. This is just a retelling :) This story is for a mature audience, so if you are not 18 years or older, please do NOT read this piece. Lastly, this story also features a bit of Jonathan x Nancy for narrative purposes, but if you're looking for a happy ending for them, you won't find it here. (Most likely you won't find it in the show either. Oops. #TeamStancy)

WC: 10,303

Divider: @saradika (Check out all of their beautiful headers and dividers!!)

Nancy doesn’t even know how it happened.

One moment, in the dark and quiet of the night on a boat at Lovers’ Lake, eyes twinkling and a faint pink dusting her cheeks, she’d whispered a heartfelt “Be careful” to the boy who, if she was being honest, wasn’t a boy anymore.

Steve.

He was a man, a beautiful man who had taken her by surprise over the last few days they found themselves together. She was amazed at how easily they were able to fall back into laughter, how effortlessly a smile stretched across her lips at one of his corny jokes that she’d heard a million times, but always made her laugh as though she was hearing it for the first.

There was something else though, that accompanied this feeling of amazement. Something deep and warm and fond, that’d been present as she plucked spiderwebs from his perfectly styled hair. She felt it when he had offered…no, insisted on joining her at the library. It was present in her urgency as she leapt from the boat into the deep depth of the water to find him, to save him, just like he’d done for her so many times before.

The next moment, she’s protecting him with a boat oar from interdimensional bats with razor sharp teeth that gnaw at his bloodied flesh. The force behind her swing is enough to kill them, making them pay for causing harm to the man that’s spent his teenage years protecting others from it.

She inspects his wounds when he stands, fingers gently grazing the marks on his arm and shoulder. He makes a joke that he’s never been better despite having a pound of flesh torn off his body, and instead of scolding him for his inability to be serious for one moment, she lets herself breathe. And maybe even smile.

Hiding in the shadows of the Upside Down’s version of Skull Rock is when Nancy is overcome with a whole different feeling entirely. It’s not a new feeling, however. She felt it in the Hawkins High girl’s bathroom sophomore year, back pressed against the tiled wall as Steve’s lips nipped and licked and kissed at her neck. It was there in the dim light of her bedroom when he’d kissed her slowly with wandering hands. And again in the darkness of Steve’s room, naked and vulnerable, tangled between his bedsheets.

She watches Steve stumble, dizzy and weak from blood loss, and urges him to his knees. With no other option, she kneels in front of him, close enough to feel his breath on her cheeks. The bat bite isn’t infected as far as Nancy can tell, but the wound is completely exposed and she won’t risk him being subjected to more pain.

She rips the bottom part of her sweater clean off. Her eyes ask permission, fabric held between nimble fingers. He grunts his consent, hands cradling the back of his head as the sweater piece grazes the sticky wound. She wants to make sure it’s secure, tying the fabric around his lower back, faltering slightly when the sound that leaves his lips mirrors a noise she’s heard before. He’s in pain, she knows this, but he’s a whimpering mess in front of her and past memories of her hands and tongue exploring his body are at the forefront of her mind.

Nancy makes the mistake of glancing up at his face. Half lidded eyes burn with something dark, and Nancy knows it can only be described as lust because she’s looking at him the same way he’s looking at her. He’s breathing deeply, pink lips parted, and for a moment Nancy thinks what if…

And then a few seconds later the ground shakes and Steve’s pulling her body into his chest, arm a snug shield around her collarbones. Her fingernails dig into his skin and if it hurts he doesn’t say anything, his steady breath next to her ear the only noise she hears. It’s a comforting sound, one that signifies he’s alive, and when the ground stops shaking she holds onto him for just a split second longer. Steve doesn’t mind one bit.

Eddie asks questions about the Upside Down and sometime after he receives his answers, Robin suggests finding grenades and guns to fend off the creatures. Eddie’s brows furrow, disbelief in his voice at the admission that Nancy Wheeler, out of all people, keeps guns locked away in her bedroom. There’s a husky voice behind her that says “You almost shot me with that one,” when she mentions owning a revolver.

Her head tilts slightly, a snicker on her face as she recalls the first time Steve was ever introduced to anything pertaining to the Upside Down. With a bloodied eye and a bruised ego, he’d come to the Byers’ house to apologize to Jonathan, only to force his way inside after one glance at her bandaged hand. He refused to leave until he knew she was okay, but he wasn’t moving quick enough for her and the lights had started to flicker. She couldn’t risk him being involved in the mess. Gun aimed at his chest, she’d said, “I’m doing this for you.”

Nancy chuckles now, a light and airy huff. So much has changed since then, including the two of them. “You almost deserved it,” is her answer, a coy smile on her lips as she gazes back at him. They don’t say anything afterward, basking in the silence and in the heat of each other’s closeness.

The moment is ruined by a denim vest being thrown in Steve’s direction. She and Steve blink, startled, and Eddie mentions something about modesty. Fuck modesty, she thinks.

Steve puts the vest on, much to Nancy’s dismay, but then her eyes trail over his form and she decides he looks good in it. Even if he is battered and bruised, he’s still just as handsome as he was back in high school. Maybe even more now.

And while she watches him flick on the flashlight and lead the way through the forest, she can’t help but be impressed by how much he’s matured over the years. She’s used to taking charge, being the one people follow, that the feeling of letting someone else lead is almost unfathomable.

And yet Nancy finds herself letting Steve guide the way, any and all complaints dying on her tongue. He’s walking into a strange and frightening world with determined eyes, a set jaw, and a confidence she isn’t used to. There’s no protest on his lips or hesitation in the way that he moves, a stark difference to his seventeen year old self. She’s enticed by this version of Steve, the one that sees danger and runs toward it, not from it. The one that has so naturally fallen into the role of a leader, someone that Nancy can trust to keep her safe.

She can’t help the smile that spreads across her cheeks as she follows him into the unknown.

They’d been able to make contact with Lucas, Dustin, and Erica, and eventually found their way to Eddie’s trailer. It was there they discovered a gate that would lead them back to Hawkins. All they had to do was climb through. Easy enough.

Robin and Eddie had made it up the rope smoothly, landing comfortably on a mattress waiting for them on the other side. Nancy is halfway up the rope, ready to emerge on the other side of the portal, when something in the air shifts and suddenly she’s falling, her back eventually colliding with hard ground. Her eyes open to the horrific sight of a dead Barbara Holland cocooned in tentacles at the bottom of Steve’s empty pool.

Visions of that night replay on a loop. Some are of Barb’s pained screams as she was brutally taken from the world. Others are of herself and Steve, bodies pressed against each other, soft moans filling the quiet of his room and tongues licking into mouths. “You’re so beautiful,” he’d said, right as his hips pressed flush with hers. She’d felt all of him that night, a moment that was sweet and pure, or should have been, overshadowed by unresolved guilt.

Nancy doesn’t like to cry if she can help it, but she sheds tears for her best friend who was taken much too soon. She cries for the girl she used to be before being introduced to a world of horrors, and the childhood innocence that was taken from her all in one night that she’d given into passion.

The rest of Vecna’s visions are just as awful as the next, and Nancy can’t bear to think of a world where Hawkins is destroyed and taken over by monsters. A world where her mom, Holly, and Mike, don’t survive. A world where her friends are beaten down, traumatized, and irreparably broken.

The world that Vecna shows her is Hawkins’ reality in a few days' time, and Nancy’s not sure if he’ll even let her live long enough to see the city crumble. But he sends her off with a message for Eleven, and when the visions subside, her body falls limp. She’s too weak from the crying and the yelling and the pleading to catch herself as she collapses.

But Steve does. Of course he does. He’s gentle when he maneuvers her onto the ground, head on his arm with his hand cradling her cheek, thumb rubbing at stray tears on her lashes. Her breaths are slight gasps and she’s riddled with fear, unable to hear anything over the sound of her own panic.

“It’s okay, I’m here. I’m right here.”

The words aren’t just comforting, they’re a promise. Her eyes don’t leave him when he says it, assuring her over and over that he’s here with her and he isn’t going anywhere. She focuses on mimicking his steady breathing, the concern in his hazel eyes lighting a fire in her chest. Safe, sound, and supported in Steve’s arms is when she comes to realize that he never stopped caring about her.

The plan for defeating Vecna includes a trip to the War Zone for as much ammunition as they can take without becoming suspicious. Eddie surprises everyone by hot wiring a caravan for the adventure, and Steve shocks the gang by driving it quite well under pressure.

Nancy takes the seat beside him, enjoying the comfortable silence before asking, “How does it handle?” He jokes with a smile, “Pretty well for a house.”

She doesn’t feel pressured to keep up the conversation. Silence is never awkward around Steve. But she watches as his mouth bobs open slightly and turns in her seat, full attention on him. He almost looks sheepish.

He tells her about his dream of a big family, three boys and three girls. Her brows raise at the number, but soften as she remembers for the last two years or so Steve’s been taking care of seven kids just fine. Dustin, Lucas, Erica, Max, Will, El, and Mike truly don’t know how lucky they are.

Even if the number of kids sounds like a bit much, she still listens to his dream. A dream that involves two active parents, happy and in love, traveling the country in a van similar to this one, creating memories with their children every summer. Stops along the way include Yellowstone and the Grand Canyon, and learning how to surf in a small town in California.

She says the dream sounds nice and there’s nothing but truth in her words. His eyes divert from the road, locking with hers, a soft “Yeah?” falling off his lips. Her head bobs forward, a gentle “Yeah,” leaving her mouth with a smile.

He turns back to the road but she can’t. All she can do is stare at him, beautifully bathed in daylight. And a dream that once sounded like a nightmare suddenly doesn’t sound so bad after all.

Once more in the caravan, the teenagers rehearse the plan to attack Vecna. They only have one shot to do it correctly, and Nancy wants to be thorough. Once she’s satisfied, she leads them across the grass to Eddie’s trailer.

The rope is still dangling, connecting both worlds, and Dustin tells Steve to be careful before he climbs, expertly flipping into the Upside Down. Robin isn’t impressed, but Nancy can’t say the same because she is impressed, evident by the way the corners of her mouth raise endearingly.

Nancy lands on the mattress with a thud, reaching for the outstretched hand presented in front of her. She lets Steve pull her to her feet, but he doesn’t know his own strength and pulls her a hair’s breadth away from his lips. Her eyes burn into his, but for a brief moment they flit to his lips and back again. She’s not subtle, and he notices, but he won’t be the one to pull away first.

Robin, Nancy, and Steve bid goodbye to Dustin and Eddie who are left in charge of distracting the demobats. Nancy watches as Steve takes a long look at Dustin, torn between staying with him or leaving him behind. She comforts him with a hand to his shoulder, assuring him that Dustin’s in good hands with Eddie by his side.

The trek through the woods is cold and dark, and someone as uncoordinated as Robin shouldn’t be running through trees and hopping over logs, but she darts off ahead anyway. Steve makes a comment about her being a “Klutz” but really he can’t poke fun at her too much because he’s had his own share of clumsy moments.

There was a time when baby Steve crawled backwards and ended up falling down a flight of stairs, thumping his head on the way. “That makes so much sense,” Nancy jokes, and she’s not expecting Steve to agree with her.

Steve knows he’s a confident guy, but he has times where he just can’t help but feel like an idiot. The word makes Nancy grimace because he’s anything but. He’s had his fair share of questionable friends, choices, and morals, but idiot is too strong of a word to describe his past self.

Over the last few days, Steve has done nothing but surprise Nancy. But the biggest surprise of all is when he stops in his tracks and looks at her with the most vulnerable look she’s ever seen and thanks her for giving his head “The biggest thump of its life, two years ago.”

Her shoulders deflate as he turns, assuring her he needed that thump on his head. How it changed him for the better, and how he’s able to move forward now, albeit slowly. He wonders what would have happened between the two of them if some other girl had knocked some sense into him.

He thinks they would have made it if they were meeting for the first time now. And Nancy, not one who is usually rendered speechless, cannot find her voice. Because really, is there any right way to respond to your ex-boyfriend laying his heart in the palm of your hands?

Steve asks her if she recalls their conversation in the caravan, the one about his dream of the Winnebago and six kids. Of course she remembers. There was never a moment she’d seen him more honest and so…hopeful. As if they weren’t hours away from their potential death, and the only thing on his mind was a future with his own little family, one filled with laughter, love, and limitless smiles.

And Nancy finds that her eyes begin to water and her throat tickles when he says he forgot to mention the most important part of his dream. Mist clouds his eyes, voice unwavering.

“You’re there. You’ve always been there.”

Steve knocks the breath from her lungs with just six simple words. Six words that she never expected to hear, but are somehow the most beautiful words he’s ever said. After all this time, without even saying the word, she realizes that he loves her. Steve Harrington, the boy she inadvertently hurt two years ago while trying to process shame and guilt and grief, saw a future with her. Steve Harrington, the man baring his soul to her, giving her his heart and expecting nothing in return, still wants her. Needs her. Loves her.

She can’t stand here and say nothing. She wants to say something, but Robin has other ideas as she calls out for them, confirming they were heading in the right direction after all. When Nancy finds the courage to glance at Steve from under wet lashes, she’s met with a sigh and a head nod before he takes off after Robin.

And the feeling comes back again. The one she felt at the Creel house and on the boat at Lovers’ Lake. She doesn’t have a name for it but it grows stronger and burns brighter whenever she’s near him. It feels warm and safe and calm and exciting all in one. She doesn’t remember the last time she’s felt this way, but she thinks she could get used to this feeling.

They tried. They truly tried with everything in them. But the clock had struck four times and the ground opened up and the city of Hawkins fell before their eyes. The already small city was becoming a ghost town, cars flying down streets to flee from the aftermath. They'd lost Eddie and Max in the process.

They all felt responsible for what had happened to their once quaint town, and the only way to give back, to try and make things right, was to volunteer their help to the remaining citizens who were injured, hungry, or homeless.

Piling boxes into the back of Steve’s BMW is put on pause at the sound of a pizza van rolling into the Wheelers' driveway. Just when they needed something good, Eleven, Mike, Will, and Jonathan hop out of the vehicle, accompanied by a boy with an incredibly eccentric wardrobe.

Jonathan. The boy she hasn’t heard from or thought about for days, is scooping her into his arms and lifting her off the ground. He promises to tell her everything that’s happened over the last few days, but he kisses her forehead and whispers “I’m glad you're safe” before holding her once more.

Their reunion is short lived, with Jonathan bouncing off to introduce his new friend to the rest of the crew. She feels unproductive standing alone, suddenly realizing that they probably have a few more boxes to stack in Steve’s car. Unfortunately for Nancy, she turns around to the sight of the BMW driving off. A chance to be close to Steve disappearing down the road.

It’s Eleven who asks for someone to take her back to Hopper’s cabin, words pulling Nancy away from the vanishing vehicle. Nancy gently squeezes her hand and promises everyone will accompany her to the cabin. She deserves even a moment of normalcy.

The realization that the cabin needs a bit of remodeling hits them when they pull up to the vacant home. Eleven, Mike, and Will busy themselves with black trash bags and old garbage. Jonathan proclaims he’s handy with a hammer, so Nancy offers to help him board up the windows even though her mind is elsewhere. There’s tension all around them, if fleeting eyes and tight lipped smiles are any indication.

Nancy tries to distract herself by hammering a nail into the wood, but then Jonathan says, “I’m sorry I wasn’t here,” and the first thing out of her mouth is, “I'm glad you weren’t.” Because someone else was.

Jonathan’s brows furrow and she realizes how that sounds, backtracking to explain she’s glad he was taking care of Mike and Will. He’s always been good at that. She doesn’t know if he says it to be petty, but it’s her turn to look confused when he says, “I’m glad you were here.”

He makes an offhand comment about Steve being in charge if Nancy hadn’t been, and his tone doesn’t sit right with her. She feels the need to defend Steve and she knows Jonathan had expected her to laugh along with him, but his comment isn’t received well and instead he turns away, muttering an uncomfortable, “Yeah, I’m sure.”

They resume hammering, but it’s not long until he asks the dreaded question. “Are we okay?”

And really, how is she supposed to answer that when essentially nothing between them has been okay over the last few weeks? Conversations between them have been flat and plans have been rescheduled more than once or completely ignored. She’d started questioning whether he really wanted to see her. On his list of priorities, where was she?

She lies and answers, “Yeah, totally,” and states how hard it’s been with life throwing wrenches in their big plans. Big plans that include attending Emerson, Nancy studying journalism while Jonathan practices photography. She’s hounded him about it before, so she doesn’t see the harm in asking one last time if he received his application letter in the mail.

Unsurprisingly he says it hasn’t come yet. The disappointment she feels isn’t caused by the missing letter, but more from the thought that she’s being lied to. He hadn’t even looked her in the face when she’d asked, but she still wants to give him the benefit of the doubt.

Something soft lands on the tip of her nose and she gently brushes it off, about to hammer the last of the nails when something else lands on her finger. She glances at Jonathan, who flicks a piece of the substance off his wrist, and their attention is grabbed by Will calling out to them.

They rush over to join Hopper, Eleven, Joyce, Mike, and Will, who’s hand is locked on the back of his own neck. There’s goosebumps on his skin when he whispers, “Something’s wrong,” and whatever is falling from the sky is plummeting faster and more frequently.

Hopper weaves around branches in the forest and they follow him curiously, all pausing once they arrive on the peak of the hill to see Hawkins overcome by thick smoke, illuminated by a bright red sky. Screams and shrieks scatter throughout the burning city, and Nancy, unblinking, swallows when she puts the pieces together.

Hawkins is merging with the Upside Down. The creatures are beginning to take over the city, growling and screeching and tearing apart anything in their path. And she’s two seconds away from gearing up for the fight of her life.

And this time, they’d won.

Hawkins, Indiana, as Nancy knew it, is destroyed. 37 killed. 14 missing. 65 wounded. Homes, buildings, schools, stores, all demolished or unsalvageable. She estimates it will take at least a year to fix the damage that has been done. But hell, Nancy would take a demolished city over losing her loved ones any day.

Nancy never considered herself fond of hugs, but she is giving them out like candy on Halloween despite everyone being tired and dirty, covered head to toe in blood and ash.

Mike, teary eyed and lips quivering, reciprocates her bone crushing embrace without protest.

Eleven, fully drained and on the verge of collapsing, practically falls into Nancy’s arms. Nancy makes sure to kiss the top of her head, whispering, “I’m so proud of you,” loud enough for only El to hear.

And Jonathan, who struggles to untangle his limbs from Will and Joyce, finally wraps his arms around her.

Steve is already staring at her when their eyes meet. He’s alone, filthy and exhausted, hands on his hips as he sucks in deep breaths, but he finds the strength to lift a palm and give her a shy wave. And suddenly Jonathan's arms feel anything but comforting. He feels cold and distant and awkward, unable to compare to Steve’s warm skin, toned muscles, and tenderness. Nancy decides it’s been too long since she’s felt his embrace, and he looks like he needs one, too.

She doesn’t make it three steps in his direction before a piece of paper crunches beneath her boot. It’s crumpled and covered in soot but she picks it up anyway, unfolding the creases and squinting at the tiny print.

Her heart sinks into her stomach when she realizes she’s holding Jonathan’s acceptance letter to Lenora Community College. She only reads the first two lines before it’s promptly snatched from her fingers.

“What are you doing? Where did you get that?” Jonathan’s voice is frantic as he fails to hide the letter behind his back. His eyes are everywhere but on her, the tips of his ears turning as red as Nancy feels.

Her tongue is sharp and unforgiving, ripping the letter from his grasp and holding it up at eye level, forcing him to confront her. “You lied to me.”

The streets begin to clear except for the firefighters and National Guard, but Nancy stays glued to her spot. This isn’t just about him anymore. She’s supposed to be part of his future. She needs answers. “Tell me why. Start talking.”

And part of her wishes she never asked, because it’s the most honest Jonathan has been in months, brutally so. “Lenora is home,” He says, absentmindedly kicking rubble. “I can’t leave Will and my mom. I can’t do it, Nancy. I won’t do it.”

That’s why he’s been distant, she thinks. He knew this whole time. He knew he wasn’t coming with me.

Jonathan is notoriously pessimistic when it comes to love and relationships, but she never realized just how hopeless he felt when he pictured their future. He rambles on and on about how she would have given up Emerson to be with him in Lenora if she had known the truth. About how they would fall out of love and grow to resent each other, just like his parents did. How their kids would end up hating him. The future he pictures for them is a bleak one, a never ending cycle of hardship and heartache.

It’s not noble. It’s not chivalrous. His confession toes the line of being downright presumptuous. All this time she was so sure of what she wanted, of who she wanted, but now she questions if she truly ever knew Jonathan Byers, and if he ever really knew her.

She hands the letter back to him, nothing but a deep set frown etched into her skin. They don’t move and they don’t speak because his confession had said enough. A life with Nancy Wheeler would be a miserable one. He doesn’t see happiness or joy or hell, even love.

But another man does. And all this time, she could have been with someone who saw a future with her, who wanted a future with her. She glances around for him, coming up blank when he’s nowhere in sight. Dusk is approaching darkness, but she won’t let the lack of light stop her from finding him.

So she begins to walk.

By the time Nancy finds herself outside of the Harrington household, nighttime has fallen over the city. The sky is dark ink, illuminated by the moon and a few scattered stars. Devoid of gray smoke and red lightning, it’s the prettiest sky Hawkins has seen in days. She’s surrounded by woods, quiet and peaceful, and for the first time all day Nancy feels calm.

There was once a time where Nancy could anticipate what Steve would say in a given situation. She knew him well enough to predict his thoughts and finish his sentences. But years later she’s unsure of how he’ll respond to her showing up on his doorstep, if he’s even home. She thinks about turning around and heading back to her place, but the thought is fleeting. She needs to see him.

She knocks three times and waits, teeth finding her lip as her stomach churns. The lock clicks, and she doesn’t have time to rethink her decision before the door creaks open, revealing one very confused Steve. One look at him has her assuming he must have gotten home not too long ago. Dirt and blood still stain his face, and the warzone outfit is snug on his body. He looks like a hero. She thinks he is one.

“Nance?”

Soft, breathy, tender. Nance. It still warms her heart like it did when she was sixteen years old. He’s the only one who’s ever called her Nance, still the only one. It never would have felt right coming from anyone else.

She answers with a bashful “Hi,” apologizing for disturbing him so late. He says it’s not a bother, that she’s not a bother, and her heart swells. He makes her feel special, even if sometimes she doesn’t feel that way.

Steve moves to the side to let her through, gently closing the door behind her. It’s been years since she’s set foot inside his house, but there’s a certain comfort she feels when she glances around and realizes not much has changed, from the soft yellow lights in the living room to the myriad of family pictures lined perfectly on every wall. She zeroes in on a photo of a young Steve, basketball clutched between fingers and a toothy grin stretched across his cheeks. It’s her favorite one.

Nancy could beam at photos of little Steve for hours but she knows he’s probably waiting for her to say something, to explain why she showed up on his doorstep. He’s patient, wearing the faintest smile so as to not pressure her to speak, but the wheels in his mind are working overtime, ultimately coming up blank with a reason as to why instead of going home, she came searching for him.

Nancy can’t help but reach for him, arms snaking around his middle, head pressed against his chest as she buries herself in him like she’s wanted to for hours. There’s a weight lifted from her shoulders, one that can only disappear in the safe and protective hold that Steve provides.

And he returns her hug without question, because Steve Harrington would be incredibly foolish to fumble the chance at having Nancy Wheeler in his arms again if only for a moment. He hugs her like he used to, arm around the top of her shoulders, chin resting on her head, one hand in her curls.

And they say nothing for a while because they really don’t need to. The embrace says enough for the both of them. Neither one wants to break away first, basking in the feeling of being in each other’s arms, even if they’re sweaty and bloody and covered in remnants of interdimensional monster guts.

His whisper of, “What’s this for?” ruptures the silence, and instead of responding she squeezes him a bit tighter because there’s something about him that is just so damn comforting. The chuckle in his chest vibrates against her cheek, and it’s the sweetest sound she’s heard all day.

“I just missed you.” It’s a quiet and earnest confession, one that hits Steve right in the heart. He recalls so many late nights thinking that he’d never get the chance to have her in his life again. That he’d fucked up one too many times to deserve a woman as incredible as Nancy Wheeler.

But here she is, standing in his house, wrapped in his arms, telling him she missed him. He has half a mind to pinch himself to see if he’s dreaming. He hopes the universe would never be that cruel to him.

“I missed you too, Nance,” He swallows timidly, fingers brushing the back of her head as they did when he’d snuck into her bedroom to hold her for a few hours, escaping through the window when the soft drag of his fingers had eventually lulled her to sleep.

“More than you could ever know.” Steve could stand there and hold Nancy forever, and he wants to, but he heaves a sigh because he doesn’t trust himself not to bend down and kiss her breathless, so he reluctantly pulls away first because he’s trying so hard to be respectful of her relationship with Jonathan.

He clocks the disappointment that swirls in her bright eyes and he excuses himself quickly before he does something he’s not even sure that she wants. He busies himself with the thought that he should clean the days’ old bat bites on his hip that have no doubt reopened, so he tells Nancy to make herself comfortable while he freshens up in the master bathroom.

Steve doesn't realize she’s followed him until he begins to strip off his clothes, tossing them onto the bathroom floor. His jacket is discarded along with his stained shirt, leaving only tattered combat pants on his body.

Only then does he look up and lock eyes with Nancy, who stands in the doorway shuffling her feet. She’s wearing a look that he recognizes all too well. Eyebrows pulled inward, teeth chewing at the corner of her bottom lip. She wants to ask him something, but she can’t find the right words.

He asks if she’s okay and she nods, toeing across the tile until she’s standing in front of him. Her eyes glance over the blood stained bandages around his abdomen, fingertips grazing the skin just above. “Can I help?” She questions finally, eyes pleading. She hopes he accepts her offer. It’s about time someone took care of him. “Please?”

She could ask him to pluck the stars from the sky and he would simply find a way just because she asked. If Steve Harrington knows anything about himself, it’s that he will always be soft for Nancy Wheeler.

He does his best to hop up onto the sink, groaning every now and again as he tries to shimmy into a comfortable position while Nancy moves around the bathroom effortlessly. She looks like she belongs here with him, and his mind does what it does best and wanders to the future. To their house. To them. Together. A dream he wishes wasn’t so far out of reach.

Steve expects her to busy herself with the bites on his hip first, but Nancy’s finger gently lifts his chin until they’re eye level, warm cloth brushing over his skin. He can’t bring himself to peel his eyes away from her face and the way her gaze holds so much concern for him. Not that he wants to look elsewhere anyway. She’s focused on cleaning the grime off his face, but every now and again her eyes flick to his and she gives him one of her tight lipped smiles. He returns them everytime.

And she’s gentle with him. So gentle that his head grows heavy in her small hand and his eyelids begin to flutter, exhausted from a hard day’s work. He has half a mind to let himself doze off in her palm because he knows he’s safe with her, but his eyes are forced open when Nancy murmurs, “Can I ask you something?”

He can’t tell what’s exactly on her mind but he gauges it can’t be that bad since her voice isn’t wavering like it usually does when she’s nervous. He nods, trying to ignore the sudden heat on his cheeks when her fingers delicately run over the fading bruise on his throat and the scar on his jaw. “Did you mean it? I mean– what you said…about me? About us?”

Us. He’s thought about them so many times. About what it would be like to reconcile, start fresh. To talk about the mistakes they’ve made, and to make promises in the dark of the night as they hold each other close, to never hurt each other again. Not purposely, at least.

But there’s a worry in his stomach that his honesty will scare her, especially if she hasn’t thought about him at all. He weighs his options and decides on the truth, because Nancy Wheeler is nothing if not persistent, and she would keep asking until she received the answer she was looking for. When Steve finds his voice, it’s strong and sure. “Of course I did.”

His certainty squeezes Nancy’s heart. There’s many things Steve has been uncertain about in his life. School, career, and aspirations being a few. His feelings for Nancy were never one of them.

The admission turns her shy, pink cheeked, and her head falls to the side away from his burning gaze, and that just won’t do for Steve because he already misses the pretty color of her eyes. His favorite pastime is getting lost in them.

So now it’s his turn to raise her face until she has nowhere else to look but at him, thumb brushing a streak of dirt on her cheek. He swears she leans into his touch, so he cups her cheek more firmly. “I meant every single word, Nance. I hope I didn’t scare you, but I just…I needed you to know.”

There’s not a single part of his dream that made her uneasy. It was unexpected, maybe. But scary? Not a chance. There was something hopeful in the way that he spoke so lovingly about a simple future. And over the last few days when she had gathered herself for bed and settled in for the night, she couldn’t help but wonder what a life with Steve could look like. The more she thought about his vision, the more she was drawn to it.

“Look…I know you’re with Jonathan,” There’s an ache in his chest that’s just as painful as the reminder that Nancy’s heart belongs to someone else. Steve doesn’t want to think about how he’d given another man a chance to love her when it should have been him all along.

But that man was responsible for so many of Nancy’s smiles. She deserves to love and be loved back. Steve can’t truly find it in his heart to be mad. “And I know he makes you happy. I’m so glad he makes you happy. That’s all I’ve ever wanted for you, Nance.”

Her fingers work at disinfecting the wound on his hip, but she’s not even sure if she’s doing it correctly because his words have her in a trance. She can’t tear her gaze from him, raw sincerity swimming in hazel eyes.

Steve’s shoulders deflate with a long overdue exhale, sliding off the sink to be closer to her because she’s entirely too far away. “And maybe telling you about my dream while you’re still with him is a selfish thing to do, but Nance I have to be selfish one more time because I’m not sure if I’ll ever get another chance to say this to you.”

She drops the stained cloth when he cradles her face in his hands and it’s her turn to melt between his fingers. Foreheads touch, noses bump, and lips are just a hair’s breadth apart as Steve says, “You’re the one for me, Nance. There’s not a single person in this world who could compare to you.”

Steve swallows around thick emotion because this woman has had his heart for almost three years and she deserves to know just how much she means to him. “And if there ever comes a time where we can try again…where we can try us again…I promise I will do whatever it takes to make sure you feel loved the way that you need. You are the most important part of my dream. Not kids, not Winnebago summers…you.” A pause, another shy gulp, and one final confession. “And that’s because I love you, Nancy Wheeler. I love you . I love you so damn much and I haven’t stopped and I don’t want to stop because loving you is what I was meant to do. I hope you'll let me."

She knew it was coming. She knew it was coming and yet she wasn’t prepared for how his words would set her body aflame. How they would light up her heart with the warmest glow. She thinks there’s nothing more enticing than a man who knows exactly what he wants, and he wants her. Steve Harrington, after all this time, after the hurt, the pain, the betrayal, sees Nancy Wheeler as the biggest part of his life.

And for Nancy, everything begins to make sense. The feeling comes rushing back. The one that’s deep and warm and fond and has been present ever since Steve Harrington walked back into her life. It blooms in her chest and pools in her eyes when she gazes at him, the most honest and sincere and beautiful man she’s ever known. And she finally has a word for it.

It’s love. Nancy Wheeler has been falling back in love with Steve Harrington and she’s finally ready to accept it. She’s enchanted by him and the way he’s grown to be confident and driven. Dependable and sensitive. Brave and honest and thoughtful. He’s everything she wants, everything she knew he could be. What a fool she’d be to not leap at the chance to be with him again.

She feels him start to pull away and before he can she circles her hands around his wrists, cementing his hands to her face because even if she’s away from him for one second, it’s a second too long. His eyes are shiny and she knows hers are too because the evidence slides down her cheeks.

She stuns him when she whispers that she’s no longer with Jonathan. As serious as the moment is, she allows herself to breathe a chuckle at his comically wide eyes. And sure, neither she nor Jonathan uttered the words “I’m breaking up with you”, but what kind of relationship could they have going forward with Nancy knowing the only future Jonathan envisioned for them is one that would leave her unsatisfied?

Nancy Wheeler swore to herself that she would never end up like her parents, two people who married for convenience without ever considering that convenience wouldn’t be enough to keep their marriage afloat. Her mom is unhappy, dad emotionally absent. To sustain a marriage you need more than just practicality.

And she loves her parents, she really does, but Nancy wants to do things differently. She wants respect, love, passion, partnership, and so many other qualities that would never be present in Jonathan’s future, but seem to line up perfectly with Steve’s. The choice is easy.

Steve listens as she recalls Jonathan’s future, one where she would be settling in a loveless relationship, and Steve’s hold on her face tightens because he knows he’s capable of giving her so much more than Jonathan could ever imagine, and he plans on showing her.

And then Nancy beams hard when she talks about hope and how his dream gives her some semblance of normalcy after all these years of chaos. How with him, she'll be able to have a career and a beautiful family to come home to. She thinks it’s what they both need.

But one part of his dream may be a bit too chaotic, and with a smirk she asks if they can compromise and settle on two kids and a cat because six kids might prove to be a handful. A puff of air ghosts over her lips as Steve leans in. “Nancy Wheeler, if it was possible I’d carve out a piece of my soul and give it to you.”

He laughs, but Nancy knows he would if he could. His love for her is insurmountable. This is what it feels like to be loved, adored. To have a partner who sees emotional vulnerability as a strength. To be with a man who loves and loves hard. She never wants this feeling to end.

“I know,” She affirms with a nod, hands sliding from his wrists and up his shoulders until her arms wrap around his neck. His palms descend down her sides, resting easy on her hips. “I know you would. But I’ve been waiting days for you to kiss me again. So please, please kiss me Steve. Don’t make me wait any longer.”

Steve Harrington is beautiful all the time, but his beauty shines differently when he’s in love. “I’ll kiss you for the rest of our lives if you let me.”

And he seals that promise when his lips glide over hers for the first time in two years, and Nancy knows it's the best kiss she's ever had. Their mouths mold perfectly against each other, tongues licking ardently as teeth playfully nip on plush pink flesh. Body to body they cling to each other, hot and desperate and wanting.

They only break away for a moment to rid each other of the rest of their clothes before stumbling into the shower, giggling and touching and melting under the other’s touch. The water is hot but neither one of them mind because now without the weight of the world on their shoulders, they’re able to breathe and relax in the comfort of shared space and warm lips.

Their kisses are fervent, but time spent touching and exploring bodies is slow, unrushed. Fingertips graze over pebbling nipples and pectoral muscles. Hips and a happy trail. Hands knead and rub skin, attempting to coax strings of more and fuck and please from slick lips. Things are different between them now, they’re different, but the way they love on each other is the same.

She breathes a gasp into Steve’s mouth when the hard muscle between his legs brushes up against her, the tip pink and pretty and slick with arousal. His cheeks are flushed from the shower steam and underlying shyness, and his eagerness turns Nancy’s need into a craving. He wants her just as much as she wants him.

Patience is a virtue, but it has never been one Nancy is fond of. There’s no hesitation when she forces him down onto the marble bench in the corner of the shower. He’s taken by surprise at first, eyes round and lips parted, brows slightly pinched.

Her voice is pleading as she says, “I need you," straddling his lap with her thighs on either side of him. She dives in again, connecting their lips in a frenzied passion as she finds a steady rhythm, rocking her hips against him. Her slick coats him and he hisses, hands bruising her skin as she’s pulled flush against his chest.

Steve whispers her name, hoarse and needy, but she’s zeroed in on grinding her hips in a way she hopes will make him fall apart. His tip catches on her clit and she moans, maneuvering her hand to find the hard length of him. Before she can sink down and claim him, he groans her name again, still wrecked, catching her wrist in his palm. “Nance, shit–fuck–baby, wait.”

She’s about to whine like a petulant child because she’s so close to having him the way that she’s been wanting to for days, until she notices the familiar emotion clouding his honey eyes, halting her movement entirely. For the first time all night Steve appears nervous, insecurities breaching his naturally confident aura.

He swallows, mouth upturned timidly. “I need to know that you want me, too.”

She frowns then, ready to counter and call him crazy because how could she not want him, but he shushes her with a light peck to her lips. “I need to know that we’re in this together, Nance. I don’t want you hiding or running away from me, not anymore. I said I want you and I meant it. Every single part of you. The parts you love, the parts you hate. The good, the bad, the ugly, the beautiful. I want them all.”

She’ll never grow tired of him saying it, never get over the way her heart beats for him. She’s well aware of what he’s asking of her, and while communication and trust have been areas she’s struggled in, she knows she can try for him. She doesn’t want to leave him in the dark again, never leave him questioning where they stand.

She leans into his touch when he cradles her face in his hands. “And if we fight, we fix it. We don’t go to sleep mad. We talk. We apologize. We help each other, support each other. Look Nance, you’re all I’ve ever wanted. And at the end of the day, I just need to know you’ll still want me too,” His next words come out low, but she hears them loud and clear. “You’ll want us.”

She pulls back to look at him, inspecting him as she would a delicate painting. The gears in his brain are working overtime, and Nancy knows he’s being plagued with thoughts about their past relationship. Guilt worms its way into her chest at the remembrance of how they’d left things, of how he’d begged her to say just three little words. Nancy needs him to know he’ll never have to beg again.

Her fingers find damp chestnut hair, pushing the wet strands away from his face before settling her palm on his cheek, thumb running over a small smattering of freckles. Her heart soars when he leans into her touch too, gazing at her with nothing but love in his eyes. She knows exactly what he needs to hear. “I love you.”

His mouth parts in protest because he can’t let her say those words unless she means it. His heart broke once when she couldn’t say them before. It doesn’t deserve to break again if she feels like she owes him. “Nance, please don’t-.”

It’s her turn to silence him with a kiss, breathing her love into him between the small part in his pretty lips. “Listen to me. I came back to you because I love you. I want us to work. I know we can. I couldn’t give you the love you deserved back then, but I have the chance to do it now and I’m going to make sure you never question it again. I promise.”

It’s a promise she plans on keeping every day because he’s worth it.

“I thought about you,” She whispers then, free hand settling on his unoccupied cheek. She attempts to blink away the sting in her eyes. “I wondered where you were, what you were doing, if-if some other girl was giving you the love I wish I would have. Because you were good to me, Steve. You were.”

She hopes he hasn’t spent years pondering over his competency to be a good partner. He wasn’t perfect, she never expected him to be, but he was sweet and kind and thoughtful. His flower deliveries were simply ‘just because’. He valued her opinions, even if he disagreed. His dumb jokes made her belly laugh, and his kisses were sugary sweet and dizzying and consuming. She was never left to wonder if he loved her. He showed it in his own way.

“After Barb died, you tried,” There’s a hiccup that passes through her lips, more following when she struggles to catch her breath. Her tears are disguised by water droplets, but Steve knows they’re there because he knows her. His thumb reaches out to catch them.

“You tried to help me the best way you could but it just–wasn’t what I needed back then. Things might have been different if I had just told you…if I had just let you in. Instead I got drunk and I–I called you bullshit.”

It wasn’t one of her finest moments, holding his heart in her hands and dismantling it piece by piece. Blaming them, blaming him, for Barb’s death. She wishes she could take it all back.

“I still remember your face when I said it, and I need you to know that I’m sorry. I’m so sorry. You’re not bullshit. You never were. You cared about me in your own way, and you loved me so much and you still love me even after all of this, and I–.”

“Nance, hey. Baby, breathe,” She’s enveloped in secure arms, Steve’s lips pressing against her forehead as she curls in on him, body shuddering from the overwhelming rush of tears. She doesn’t like crying if she can help it, but she needs this. Needs to tell him everything she couldn’t before. “Baby, we both made mistakes. We both could have been better. I should have been better for you, and I'm so sorry I wasn't. But the reason we can have this conversation now is because we’ve both grown up, yeah? We can’t change anything about the past, even if we want to. So let’s promise to work on our future, okay?”

Our future. It sounds so beautiful when he says it. She can't believe this man is hers. This wholesome, mature, gorgeous man is all hers.

“Our future. That…sounds nice.” With newfound flirtatiousness, she purrs the same words that were uttered in the caravan. The grin on Steve’s cheeks is bigger than the one that had spread across his face that day.

She doesn’t miss the rasp in his voice or the way his nose skims against her jawbone, lips migrating down to her neck. He plants a kiss there, gentle and teasing, her pulse racing underneath the plush of his lips. “Yeah, baby?”

Baby. It feels so good to be his again, but she thinks it’ll feel even better when she asserts him as her own, core fluttering in anticipation. “Yeah, Steve. It sounds really, really nice.”

And when she finally sinks down on him, there’s nothing on their minds except love. Sheer, reciprocated love. No shame or guilt about past faults. No worries or insecurities about the future. They’re simply Steve and Nancy. Nancy and Steve. Two past-turned-present lovers giving themselves to each other, clinging together to make up for lost time.

They could ravish each other now and goddamn they want to, but it’s Steve who chooses to slow things down a bit first, easing himself into her because her pleasure and comfortability are his top priorities. Steady thrusts help her adjust to his length, and deep thrusts make sure she feels everything, reminding her he’s here and he’s not going anywhere.

She squeaks on a particularly deep thrust, almost missing the sweetness that drips from his words. “You’re all mine,” He assures, breath hot against the column of her throat. He doesn’t know if it’s possible, but he swears he feels his dick grow even harder when she whines, “I’m all yours.”

One thing about sex with Steve that hasn’t changed? He’s a sweet talker and he’s damn good at it. He sings her praises, litanies of, “You’re so good for me,” “You take me so well,” and “That’s it baby, you’re so beautiful,” stealing the breath from her lungs. She’s never felt more desired than when she’s with him, never felt more worshiped. And Steve will never go another day without reminding her that her beauty is simply unparalleled.

He’s touching and loving on her everywhere. It’s what he does best and it’s what she deserves and fuck, her head is dizzy with pleasure. Hot, open mouthed kisses are dotted along her neck and throat. She exhales an airy giggle before it morphs into a moan when teeth drag over her pulse point. He wraps his lips around her skin, sucking and biting while a hand grips her jaw to keep her in place. Steve thinks she’ll look lovely decorated in faint red and purple love marks. Nancy must think so too, head angling to provide him more canvas space for his artwork.

Somewhere in between muttered curses, messy kisses, and multiple tugs on damp hair, the atmosphere shifts. Nancy’s desperate pleas electrify him, especially when her cunt squeezes around him. He’d never dream of denying her anything, not while she begs so sweetly to be filled.

Skilled hands slide down to palm the fat of her ass, spreading her further open so she can take more of him, all of him. He teases her a bit, fingers slowly skimming over her puckered hole, and she reels forward to kiss the smirk off his face, scolding him with a bite to his lower lip. The action is filthy but it’s so Steve, equally sinful as he is passionate.

And Nancy is eager to watch him fall apart beneath her. She rides him the way he’s always loved, grinding and bouncing and squeezing him as she meets each thrust. She’s warm and wet and snug around him, and she knows the damp curls on her pubic bone are driving him wild because his eyes are glued to the place they connect.

Steve groans, deep and husky, as eager fingers alternate from playing with the hair on his chest to scratching the skin of his back. She’s claiming him, branding him as hers, and the thought of forever belonging to Nancy Wheeler has his cock twitching.

He encourages it, a “Go ‘head baby, mark me,” that spurs her on. She’s never been rough with him before, all shy smiles and quiet gasps, and he loves this new side of her. There’s a sting when her nails rake over the muscles in his shoulders particularly hard, most likely payback for his earlier teasing, but he appreciates the mixture of pleasure and pain.

There’s a neediness to her voice when she demands that he tell her that he loves her, hips changing from a quick grind to a slow rock that causes Steve’s eyes to roll in the back of his head. He pants out, “I love you. I love you so much,” and every fiber of her being believes him.

And he wants to hear it too, not because he doesn’t believe it but because he’s still in awe that she does. “Say it,” he pleads, hips hammering upward while blunt nails clamp down on her hip bones. “Need to hear it again, baby. C’mon, tell me you love me.”

She babbles, “I love you, I love you, I love you” bouncing off the shower walls in time with the sharp snap of his thrusts. Her proclamation is loud and true and drives both of them to the edge. “Steve, I’m–shit…”

His teeth sink into his lip to keep him from screaming, nodding as he gruffly moans, “I know, Nance. I know, baby. Let’s do it together, yeah?”

Her whimpered, “Please” is the green light. One hand grips her skin while the other snakes between them, thumb brushing against the one sensitive spot where Steve wishes he had used his tongue first. The noises she makes are always beautiful, but the sounds he can pull when he gives extra attention to her clit are unmatched.

Steve presses against her, flicking his finger back and forth in a practiced manner and Nancy mewls, head bumping against his. Her thighs are weak and she’s practically panting against Steve’s mouth, but it’s the first time they’ve fucked in two years and she needs him to finish with her.

He spills into her the moment she clamps down onto him, riding out their climaxes while clinging to sweaty, fucked out bodies. Nancy finds fun in teasing him, rotating her hips in an agonizingly slow fashion because she knows he’s sensitive and she loves it when he whines. The tips of his fingers assault her ribs with quick tickles, drawing a squeal from her lips before they catch their breaths and kiss each other stupid.

They stay locked in each other’s embrace for as long as they want to, because there’s nowhere they need to go and no place they’d rather be.

It’s 12:03 a.m., and everything is perfect.

Atop the kitchen counter, Nancy sits comfortably in baggy blue sweatpants and Steve’s slightly worn Hawkins’ High basketball tee, glass of red wine held between her fingers. She sips gingerly, eyes never leaving the beaming boy in front of the stove who stirs a pot of macaroni and cheese, his own wine glass perched beside him.

Steve feels her eyes on him, peeking up from the pot to flash her a wink as she hides her giggles behind another sip of wine. Satisfied with the tenderness of the macaroni, he flicks off the flame, drains the water and mixes the cheese in, adding a splash of milk and a bit of butter to make it extra creamy the way Nancy likes.

A bowl is handed to her and she accepts the late night comfort meal with an enthused squeak before shoveling a spoonful into her mouth. She moans dramatically as it melts on her tongue, rewarding him with a cheesy kiss right on his sweet lips. Nancy loves knowing the blush across his cheeks is from her.

Steve stands between her legs, quietly rotating between gentle chews and quick sips, and just watches her. There’s no frown on her face, no worry lines etched into her forehead as she eats without a care in the world. She looks as at peace as he feels.

They stay in this position even long after they’ve finished eating, Steve between her thighs and Nancy perched on the counter, legs wrapped around his back to lock him in place. They talk and joke and laugh more than they ever have. Healing is easier when you’re surrounded by love.

And they kiss. They kiss long and soft and slow because they can. There’s no danger, no battle or impending doom threatening to keep them apart. Instead, there’s a future filled with sunshine and warmth, hopes and dreams, loving promises and new opportunities to learn and grow and build a beautiful life together.

Because after everything they’ve overcome, they deserve it.

#stancy fanfiction #steve harrington #nancy wheeler #stancy #steve harrington x nancy wheeler #stranger things #steve x nancy #stancy endgame #pro stancy #steve harrington smut #stranger things netflix

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helloliriels · 2 years

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LIRIELS MASTER POST

Headers link to read (*indicates WIP, or may be cont.):

LIRIELS CHAPTERED FICS (5k+)

L.O.V.E. - John Watson wanted a soulmate. His sister ... just wanted this game to be over. Enter Sherlock Holmes. Fate it seems, has it's own plans ... and the game? Is never over! (27k, M, Only You AU, Italy, fortune teller, ouija board)

*(I Love You) Infinitely - With a snap of his fingers, Thanos caused the heartache and loss of half a planet's population ... and Watson of all people, could kiss the glove that did. (19k+, T, Infinity War, Post-TRF)

*Christmas in Honeycutt - John's publisher invites a sailor out to his idyllic estate for a Christmas worthy a hero ... only ... John doesn't have an estate. Or a wife. Or a child. He just writes about them! (25k+, M, WWII, spy, codes)

Give My Love To The Chef - John visits the restaurant after the Fall. They serve him the perfect dishes. Dishes that make him feel homesick and happy. Somehow ... the chef always knows what he wants before he asks ... (18k, M, Post-TRF, Fix-it)

Playing Cupid - What if Sherlock sent Mike out to bring Watson back? What if he was taking no chances on that chance meeting? (ASIP fix-it, canon complicit)

Spin The Bottle - Have you ever played this game before, Sherlock? (8k, M, S1-2ish, Strip Games)

*What If I'm Not? - Maybe in confessing why he's not o.k. ... he is really pushing Sherlock out of his life for good. How could such a disclosure not? (5k+, correspondence fic, fluff collab)

LIRIELS SHORT FICS (up to 5K)

PAYPHONE - (<2k ea., post-TRF alternates)

Keep Us From Falling - (5k, T, Una Stubbs tribute)

*Love Potion No. 9 - (5k, G, HP au, complete as-is)

The Years Keep Returning Me To You - (4k)

*Give Me A Reason - (4k, New Years alt meet)

The Girlfriend Mixup - (3k, angst, fluff)

Bleeding Out - (3k, S3 never happened)

*Hurt For Me - (3k; may become M 15-20k+)

Sherlock Is A Girls Name - (2k, HLV, alt S3)

Next Time - (2k, angst, fluff, first kiss)

*Rarified - (2k, synesthesia, soulmates au)

Kiss Me Now Before You Go - (2k, WWII)

The Limp You Gave Me - (<2k, angst, post-TRF)

I Will Try (To Fix You) - (<2k, steampunk, TRF)

Summer Calling ... - (<1k, teenlock, skinny dipping)

Hope Eternal - (1k, Hobbit inspired, post-TRF fix-it)

The Genius Who Had No Heart In His Chest - (<1k, x reader)

*After All - (<1k, oneshot, idiots in love)

*Without A You - (<1k, without a clue, role rev.)

Into Battle - (<1k, oneshot, fixing S3 TSOT)

LIRIELS PROMPT FICS (Collection)

Most less than 1k words, oneshots, drabble, etc. prompted by Tumblr posts, asks, events, and challenges.

The Paper Boy (#sherlock challenge)

LOCK DOWN (#FFF155)

CATCH (#sherlock challenge)

H.O.U.N.D. (#FFF120)

S P I C E (#sherlock challenge)

The Cuts That Bleed (#FFF139)

Experiments in Conductivity (#FFF126)

Come Closer

Drowning (And I Thought You Knew)

THIINK TWIICE (#FFF125)

Upside Down (#sherlock challenge)

Speak For Me (#FFF154)

*Do Not Download The Souls (#FFF140)

*You Can See Me

The Highest Compliment

Never Gonna Dance Again

Constellations

RISE AND FALL (#FFF145)

LONG LOST ... (#holmestice)

LOST PUPPY

Paper Heart

Do Bees Kiss? or Just Sting?

Short Poems Are The Best

A Thing (destial news)

Three Little Words (groot & SH talking)

I Will Go Down With This Ship

What To Give The Detective Who Has Everything

The Devil Went Down To London

I Want To Love Him In The Sunlight (Clueda)

He Smiles (haiku, 7PercentSolution)

Rabbit, Rabbit, Rabbit!

LIRIELS SHERLOCK POETRY (Collection)

Coffee and Then Coffee // A Million Things You Don't Do // RED // Empty Hearse // But I Can't // Welcome to London // The Next Time We Say Goodbye // We'll Go No More A-Sleuthing // Endgame // Invisible Man // Distractions // You Speak and Worlds Awaken // This Ending // 3rd is Last Place // Somebody's Someone // Undo Me // Without a Clue // I Fight the Need // Boxing Day // ... But I Can't Have Him // 2 B 1 // Your Orbit // Moving On // Infinity Smiles

LIRIELS PODFICS (Gifts for)

*Juxtaposition (Clueda)

How To Date Your Flatmate (EchoSilverWolf)

Prompt #49 Take Off Your Shirt (KittenKin)

The Wedding Gift (Calais_Reno)

Queer Eye: Johnlock Edition (fellshish)

I Speak for the Curls (ChrisCalledMeSweetie)

I Have Not Lingered (saintscully)

The Telltale Heart (Calais_Reno)

Tattered (SrebrnaFH)

SHERLOCK IS LIT Sherlocked blackout poems made from classic lit, Including: Alice in Wonderland, Charles Dickens' Bleak House, Sinbad the Sailor, Anne of Green Gables, Oliver Twist, and A Princess of Mars.

ROCK OUT WITH YOUR LOCK OUT Sherlocked rock music album covers, including: MCR, Pink Floyd, Flyleaf, Nirvana, Johnny Cash, Gotye, Breaking Benjamin, Adele, Pet Shop Boys, Marvin Gaye, Simon & Garfunkel, and FFDP.

(NOT SO) FAKE FIC TITLES Over 100+ fake fic titles to browse! From 75+ submitted prompts on Tumblr (thank you!) Intended to be 100% fake (but some I accidentally started ... so *shrug*)! Celebrating 100 works on Ao3! I fell down a Tumblr hole (inventing a new kind of torture) and having too much fun to leave it! A few (*) may yet become real boys ... INBOX OPEN!

LIRIELS SHERLOCK FAN ART Fan art made for the love of Johnlock, in any universe.

@johnlocky @ohlooktheresabee @fluffbyday-smutbynight @inevitably-johnlocked @chinike @rhasima @totallysilvergirl @missdeliadili @luciengenic @topsyturvy-turtely @justanobsessedpan @whatnext2020 @hp-nv-221b-3000 @timberva @gaylilsherlock @loki-lock @marta-bee @i-call-me-clarence @musingsofmyown @john-smiths-jawline @meetinginsamarra @geekinator @sail-on-silver-girl @jabbage @kettykika78 @arwamachine @calaisreno @notasinglesoul1 @peanitbear @glows-n-the-dark @im-erin @detafo @gregorovitchworld @sherlockwatson-holmes @riverwithoutbanks @ephemeraljimin @keirgreeneyes @so-youre-unattached-like-me @hasenkind687 @iamjustreading @discordantwords @raina-at @khorazir @bluebellofbakerstreet

#johnlock fanfic #johnlock podfic #sherlock poetry #johnlock #bbc sherlock #helloliriels #june update #june master post #masterpost

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miwtual · 2 years

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Hello, could I ask you for a specific header? I want a header of the trailer scene of stranger things v.2. when steve harrington falls with a rope to the portal where they entered (almost the second 0.49-0.50)

sure! sorry for the quality, being in the upside down + having a youtube quality video isnt helpful, but i hope u enjoy anyway :)

please like or reblog if you save/use

2 total headers, 640x340 (1 with border, 1 without borders)

credit not required but don’t repost

redirect to @maguiretobey if asked!

all headers can be found on my headers page!

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jzyuppt · 2 years

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i love everything about this

[Image ID: A screenshot of a Wikipedia article. At the top the section header is titled In Realiy. Below that the entry reads Cats possess the ability to turn themselves right side up in mid-air if they should fall upside-down, known as the cat righting reflex. This enables them to land on their feet if dropped from sufficient height.[18][19]Toast, being an inanimate object, lacks both the ability and the desire to right itself. A study at Manchester Metropolitan Universityinvolving dropping 100 slices under laboratory conditions established that toast typically lands on the floor butter-side-down as a result of the manner in which it is typically dropped from a table, and the aerodynamic drag caused by the air pockets within the bread. The toast is typically butter-side-up when dropped. As it falls, it rotates; given the typical speed of rotation and the typical height of a table, a slice of toast that began butter-side-up on the table will land butter-side-down on the floor in 81% of cases.[20] /end ID]

#wikipedia #buttered cat paradox #food mention

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maddiesflame · 2 years

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zendaya x the upside of falling layouts

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ynscrazylife · 2 years

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For your title game

Fallen Petal

Either Nat or Wanda pls 😊

Fallen Petal | n.m angst fic

Summary: Y/N is Natasha’s petal, but Natasha’s the one who fell.

Authors Note: Don’t blame me for the angst, Aira gave me the idea :)

Request to be on a taglist (or multiple) here! (Taglists are at the end of the fic)

Main Masterlist | MCU Masterlist #1 | MCU Masterlist #2

PSA: Do NOT copy, steal, translate, plagiarize, republish, etc any of my works on Tumblr or any other platform. Also, do NOT claim any of my works as your own. All of these works are either requests I’ve gotten that people have wanted me to write or original ideas I’ve had for works. If you happen to take inspiration from anything I’ve written and want to write something inspired by that, please a) ask me first and b) IF I say yes, credit me as inspo in your post by tagging me and link whatever work of mine that inspired you. Thanks.

header c @/waredits

Y/N should be flooded in relief right now. She should be jumping at joy that she could finally stretch her legs and sleep on an actual bed instead of the backseat of a car. She should be taking deep breaths, finally able to calm down now that they didn’t risk anyone finding them.

Yet her only concern was the flowers she had bought for the safe house months ago. She had grown an abundance of different flowers in her garden and picked a couple to brighten up the safe house. A rose here, a tulip there, even a daffodil or two!

Flowers had been a sign of Y/N and Natasha’s longtime friendship — their first mission had been to go undercover in a botanist’s shop. It was where their partnership bloomed, their close-knit bond was planted like a seed, a signal for the many adventures to come. Natasha always loved the flowers Y/N grew, and bringing them now reminded her of the redhead, as she hadn’t seen her best friend in months. Thankfully, Natasha had allowed her to use the safe house once, and now they were returning again, on another yet adventure.

In the background, Y/N was aware of Natasha and Rick discussing the former’s fake identities, and she left them to it. Her muscle memory kicked in, directing her to the kitchen when she had put the vase. Smiling when she saw it, Y/N etched closer to inspect the flowers.

A pout settled in when she saw many of the flowers dead. The rose was the last one alive, it that too was dying, some of its petals laying like a pool at the bottom of its stem.

“You killed them!” She accused, whining over her shoulder to their friend, Rick.

The two spies quieted and joined her in the kitchen, Rick hanging back as Natasha walked forward, wrapping an arm around Y/N’s shoulder.

Rick was saying something in defense of himself — even having the audacity to suggest that Y/N was at fault because she put flowers in a place that was rarely visited — but Y/N was only tuned into Natasha. The moment their skin touched, Y/N had to catch a gasp before it left her lips. Butterflies swarmed in her stomach, feeling Natasha’s hot breath on her shoulder, and that’s when she remembered that she had to actually listen to what the redhead was saying.

“Maybe the rose can be saved?” She suggested, poking the stem.

Y/N shook her lip. She had seen many flowers die over the years, and this one was not salvageable. It was a goner.

They stood in silence for a couple seconds, until Natasha carefully picked up one of the fallen petals. It laid on the tip of her finger, and with a smirk she placed it on Y/N’s nose. It was quick to fall, but Natasha caught it and nestled it into Y/N’s hair. “There,” she said. “Turn that frown upside down.”

Y/N giggled, the feeling of the petal having tickled a bit. She grabbed another one and did the same for Natasha’s hair, although you couldn’t really tell because the shades of red were so close together. “We match,” she murmured.

“Are you two done, yet? ‘Cause we’ve got some stuff to figure out,” Rick interrupted loudly, effectively ruining the moment.

Y/N couldn’t keep the grin from blooming onto her face as she felt her feet land on solid ground and saw the Avengers compound. Soaring through the Quantum Realm felt . . . Indescribable. Like how she’d imagine flying high in the sky without being in a rocket, while the sun was setting and the clouds dyed its canvas an array of pinks, oranges, and yellows. Being free, not having a care in the world, not having a weight on her shoulders, not having any worry in her head.

But despite all that, returning from the Quantum Realm grounded her, reminded her that life did not consist of skipping along the puffy clouds. It was full of things that irked her: like how the suit itched her skin and the helmet was about to squeeze her brains out. She couldn’t quite pinpoint what made it lose it’s irritating quality, but she didn’t really care.

Yanking the helmet off her head, it rubbing against her scalp did not faze her. She looked around, taking in every member of the team that had grown to be like family. Her eyes were instantly drawn to where Natasha and Clint had been before they departed, standing across from her with her signature, all-too knowing smile that made Y/N weak in the knees. If that smile were a painting, it would be as priceless as the Mona Lisa.

Her smile dropped when she saw no sign of the spy nor the archer, but quickly assured herself that they’d be back soon. Thor had already been there when Y/N arrived, so it wasn’t like there was a time limit on when they had to return.

She relaxed her shoulders, tuning in to the conversations around her. Y/N allowed herself a small chuckle as she heard everyone’s stories, having gotten used to their exaggerations.

The sound of a footstep brought her back to the spot Natasha and Clint were, but felt every organ in her body leap when she saw only one standing there, not two. They removed her helmet, revealing themselves as the brunette.

Y/N stilled like a statue, her thoughts racing by too quickly for her to comprehend any of them. She couldn’t move and would only remember later that she had held her breath. It was like a brain freeze, except from fear rather than cold.

“Clint, where’s Nat?” Bruce’s question made her icy walls begin to crack under the pressure.

The slightest lift of his head, his refusal to meet anyone’s gaze, and the stain of how his tears dampened his cheeks told Y/N everything. Nausea spawned as if it were a big, hairy monster and it left no mercy in its attacks. Y/N lost her balance and crashed to the floor, hearing a bone-breaking scream that was mixed with a large sob. She only registered it as her own when she heard the muffled voice of someone asking her to stop her cries.

“No,” she forced out, her voice cracking as she adamantly shook her head. “You’re lying. Tell me you’re lying. She’s not dead. She can’t be—” Her sobs were making her words incomprehensible, but the others gathered the gist.

“Natasha told me to apologize to you on her behalf. She said you were the only person she was ever truly in love with and . . . She wanted me to give you something,” Clint said, his voice shaking as he just about managed to speak over her crying. He fished into his pocket and pulled out a wrinkled piece of folded paper.

Y/N was just about aware of someone taking the paper for her and that same person — Steve, was it? — lightly but firmly pull her back into their own arms, hugging them close. She kept her eyes squeezed shut, instinctively leaning her head against the person’s chest. She didn’t know how they kept steady, with her own body fully trembling, as her sobs only got louder and more intense as her thoughts carried on, reaching further into despair.

“Tasha promised me,” Y/N sobbed, her cry both disappointed and frustrated, distraught and furious, defeated and deflated. “She promised me she wouldn’t fall! She promised me that when we got everyone back, we would settle down and build a life together!”

The person rocked her slightly and shushed her, but this only enraged Y/N further. She wasn’t some little kid crying over a split ice cream. She pushed herself away from the person (who was indeed Steve) and stumbled to her feet.

“No, no, you don’t understand!” Y/N protested, wrapping her arms around her as she faced away from anyone. She couldn’t bare the thought to face them. How could she when all they were sure to tell her was that it was going to be okay. Screw that. The love of her life was gone. It would never be okay as long as that stood true. “Natasha promised me she wouldn’t fall, NOT again!”

Y/N groaned as she felt her head collide with the pavement, content with waiting until her the stars faded from her vision to move. Once they did, she rolled over, sluggishly pulling herself into a sitting position. She left her daze just in time to watch the man they had been fighting throw her friend over the bridge.

Immediately, she lurched forward, instinctively letting out a cry of helplessness. The man turned to her, and Y/N shrunk back from his gaze. She felt her heart pounding, fueled by pure fear, praying on any God out there that Natasha was alright and that the man wouldn’t go after her next.

Thankfully, after a moment or two, he turned around and retreated. Y/N let out a breath, gathering that she wasn’t a concern of his because he had gone after Natasha, not her. Once he was out of sight and Y/N was sure he wasn’t a danger, she scrambled to get down to the water, her fears settled when she spotted the agent dragging herself out of the water.

“Natasha!” She cried, lurching herself forward into her friend’s arms. Natasha stumbled back as she adjusted to having Y/N’s weight, but quickly wrapped her arms around her friend as well, gazing at the illuminated cure and the photo strip tight in her grip.

“Are you alright?” Y/N questioned as she drew back, her eyes never staying on one point for long as she inspected Natasha for injuries.

Over the years, her honey-warm voice was tue only thing that could snap Natasha out of concentration. There had been too many times where she was neck-deep in evidence for a case and one chirp from Y/N would have her forgetting everything. At S.H.I.E.L.D., there had been a running joke that there was magic to Y/N’s voice (Natasha always said that it was because Y/N sounded so distinctive and unique) and seemed that some of that magic was in the air that night. Natasha forget about the fact that she was looking at photos of her and her younger sister, and focused on the worried agent standing in front of her.

“Just damp,” she said, a rare time that she was cracking a joke in a severe situation. It was for Y/N’s, she told herself, suddenly becoming aware of the way the moonlight reflected on Y/N. Her clothes were wet from hugging Natasha and she chewed at her lip nervously.

“I just watched you fall. I thought you might’ve been—” Y/N’s exclamation made Natasha realize she had been looking at Y/N’s lips. Shit. Y/N had been worried about her, and Natasha couldn’t stand to see her worried.

With a surge of desire and a need to calm her friend, the redhead acted on impulse. She leaned forward, their lips touching, Natasha instinctively cupping Y/N’s cheek with her hand. Almost immediately, Y/N depended the kiss, leaning in as well and wrapping both arms around Natasha’s waist. Neither had no clue how long they stood there for, but both had been content to stay like that for eternity.

When they eventually departed, they took deep breaths as they leaned their foreheads against each other’s. “That was amazing,” Y/N was the first to speak, still breathless.

Natasha nodded. “I’ve been wanting to do that for awhile, my petal,” she admitted, smiling.

“How am I the petal if you’re the one that fell?” Y/N wondered, referring to earlier that day.

Natasha just chuckled, shaking her head in amusement. “One,” she said, matching Y/N’s whisper. No one could hear, but it was like they desired privacy from the world. The street lamps and bugs buzzing in the woods had no business being apart of this. It was their moment. Theirs and the lake’s. “Technically I did not fall, I was thrown—” she paused to lift her head and meet Y/N’s eyes. “—Two . . . Clint may have saved me, but you’re the one who keeps on saving me. You make me bloom, even in the wintertime when all the other flowers are dead. For that, you are my petal. Because petals never truly die, and my love for you will never die, too.”

Her words were like a spell, rebounding Y/N’s magic on her. If anyone else were witness to this, they may think that they had fallen into an alternate universe. The moments where Natasha was so soft, and not the calculated spy she usually was, was quite rare. She reserved this tone only for the people she held closest to her. It was an honor to hear it.

Y/N grinned. “Who knew you were such a poet?” She teased, playing with Natasha’s hair.

Natasha smirked, shrugging her shoulders. “Hey, I learned from the best,” she retorted.

Y/N’s face dropped into a pout. “I thought you liked the poems that I showed you!” She recalled.

“And I do,” Natasha confirmed, giving Y/N another small kiss. “What do you think made me realize my feelings for you?”

It took Y/N a week after the battle against Thanos to enter Natasha’s room at the compound. Every single thing in there made her want to sob from the pit of her stomach, but on shaky legs she managed to make her way to Natasha’s bed, where she sunk into the familiar mattress and its sheets.

She pulled the piece of paper that Clint had given to Steve out of her pocket. Before, she hadn’t had the courage to look at it, too caught up in her grief, but she owed this to Natasha. Y/N unfolded the paper, regarding the smudged inked words on it. She didn’t have to read it to feel comforted by just the scrawl of her handwriting, but she couldn’t keep herself from devouring its contents nonetheless.

“My dear Y/N,

In the event that you were reading this, I died. Hopefully, I went out fighting. I want you to know that I am sorry. Sorry that I left you and sorry that I broke my promise. I cannot imagine what you’re going through but I hope you remember what I once said to you: my love for you will never die. Now that I’m dead, you may wonder, has my love for you died? I want you to know that it hasn’t, as long as you keep carrying it with you. It would be foolish of me to tell you not to be upset, but I hope that you can find happiness again. Stay in contact with the Avengers, with Nick and Maria and Rick, they’ll all need you and you’ll need them.

Please, after you’ve read this, go to the second drawer on my beside table. Open it, find the small red bag, and look inside. I am so sorry that this is how it is revealed, my love. I wish it wasn’t like this. After you find it, read the back of this paper — oh god I hope you read this one first — to find everything I had wanted to say.

One last thing — to fully understand it, know that the moment I saw you pout when you saw that the flowers were in the safe house were dead, I realized I was in love with you.

Forever yours, my petal, Tasha.”

If there was anything about the spy, it was that she could still confuse anyone — even Y/N. Her curiosity beat her confusion, though, and she gravitated towards the drawer. After digging inside, she found the red bag, and gently pulled it open, her mind racing at the possibilities of what was inside—

Well . . . She hadn’t guessed this.

A short but loud gasp emitted from her lips as she pulled out a small black box, her hands shaking as she carefully opened it to see a beautiful engagement ring with a rose petal engraved on it. Y/N’s hand flew to her mouth, closing her eyes as she processed this with tears coming. She sat back against the bed, pulling out the ring and delicately sliding it onto her finger. It was marvelous. She knew then that she’d never take it off.

Searching the bed with her eyes still fixated on the ring, Y/N found the letter. Turning it around, a smile came to her face when she saw that Natasha had written a “script” of sorts of what she wanted to say to Y/N when she proposed, and even a draft of wedding vows.

“Oh, Tasha,” Y/N whispered, cradling the two most precious things to her now — the letter and the ring. “I will forever be your petal, my fallen angel.”

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