#hey. hi. this is my magnum opus

[gurobitsu]

😁 punk.......mista......

this… is my roman empire.

[manynarrators]

//How does anyone post fics once a week??? I am so impatient! I just want to post it now!!!

Me: I shall post on Friday!

Me (on the Monday after I post): surely it’s gotta be almost time right???

Me, le gasp: how little time has gone by!

Something else that adequately sums up my relationship to wtnv fic.

Me: Finally! I am finishing the fics I’ve had in my drafts for years! I have no more ideas! I’ll be free!

New ideas: abooooouuuut that…

Me:

[stevie-petey]

episode eight: the battle of starcourt

He fights with it, tries desperately not to let it fall, all while his resume hangs from his mouth. “Shit! Oh, Fast Times! Ever heard of it? Top three for me, Keith.” Robin laughs and Steve turns the cardboard cutout to you, wiggling his eyebrows. “Own any red bikinis?” You flick his forehead, though you laugh as well. “In your dreams.” “I can sleep right now and find out–” “I will flick you again.” “A kiss is preferred, but whatever.”

Summary: jonathan becomes a certified surgeon, hopper returns and is oddly sentimental (wonder what that could mean !), you and dustin show off your musical theater talents, the mind flayer becomes a track star, fireworks become weapons, and really a lot just happens so suddenly it gives you whiplash. dont worry though, the rest of your summer involves painful goodbyes and the scary realization that youre growing up. absolutely disgusting. but at least steve gets to kiss you whenever now, so hooray for that ! side note: you keep making promises to people, surely there wont be narrative foreshadowing as a result !

Rating: general, violence and swearing

Warnings: blood, swearing, major character death, graphic depictions of violence, fem!reader, use of y/n

Words: 21.2k (ouch)

Before you swing in: this was my magnum opus. truly. so so so much happens in this chapter, this episode is INSANE. it took me a while, the scenes were hard and complex, but im happy with the final results :) ive been waiting a long time to write this ending, to set up the strings for later in season 4 <3 i sincerely hope this chapter is all yall have wanted. if theres any glaring typos, pls ignore because its 21.2k words and im weak from rereading it. anyways, i have a sneaky lil link right here that will make sense at the end of the chapter (spoiler alert: it's a mixtape jonathan makes for bug). enjoy !

-

El’s screams tear out of her body. She writhes in pain, sobs claw out of her throat. It’s unbearable to watch, the sight of her in immeasurable pain. It breaks your heart. 

No one knows what to do. 

Mike thrashes in your arms still. He tries to escape your hold so that he can cover his body with El’s. Take away her pain somehow. But you won’t let him. You know that it hurts him to see her this way, but his panic will only drive El’s panic further.

“What is that?” Disgust litters Erica’s face as she stares at the moving creature within El’s leg. Gently you push the girl away, not wanting to crowd El too much. She needs space to breathe. 

“There’s something in her leg,” Mike sneers into your face as he fights against you again. He’s furious, he’s overwhelmed, he just wants to help. “Let go!”

Your arms tighten around the boy. He isn’t in the right state of mind. Frantic, you look to your left and start forming a plan. “Jonathan, my switchblade is in my left back pocket. Grab it.” He stares at you, unsure what to do, and you raise your voice into a yell. “Grab it.”

Jonathan jumps at the command and his hand disappears behind you. You feel him find the weapon and pull it out. He holds it in front of you, offering it, but you don’t accept it. “Go and disinfect it. There’s a gas stove where you found us. Heat up the blades so that we can–” you swallow as nausea fills you. “We–we have to cut it out of her leg.”

The moment Jonathan is gone, you turn your attention to Mike and Steve. You try to keep your voice leveled, try to contain the blinding panic that screams in your head. El needs you right now. Swallowing again, you start to speak to them. “I need you guys to talk to El. Keep her awake.”

“Right, okay.” Mike nods, and you finally release him. He hovers over El, his voice is gentle as he tries to calm her. “Hey, stay awake, okay?”

You tug Steve towards El’s legs so that he can help you move her into a better position. “Get her onto her side. Mike, put her head in your lap.”

Both boys do as they’re told. Everyone watches, and Robin tries to make light of the situation. She rambles about a girl from her soccer team who once broke her leg. How the bone had ripped clean through her skin. The story makes you shiver, and Steve sees the discomfort. “Robin, hey. You’re not helping.”

“I’m sorry.”

Jonathan returns, out of breath. “Okay. Alright, El?” He looks down at the girl. Tries to steady his breathing. “This is gonna hurt like hell, okay?”

El whimpers out that she understands, and you take hold of her hand. “Sweetheart, you need to brace yourself. I promise it will be over soon.”

“I’ll be fast, but I need you to stay real still. Here,” Jonathan hands a wooden spoon to Mike. “You’re gonna want to bite down on this, okay?”

Teeth bared, El clenches her teeth around the spoon. Her body braces for what’s about to come. Kneeling next to her, you angle your body over hers and pin her arms down with your hands. You look at Mike, ordering him to do the same. “Hold her shoulders. Don’t let her go, no matter what.”

He pales, but swallows deeply and nods. When Mike is in position, you signal to Jonathan to start cutting. “Do it.”

“Okay,” Jonathan inhales. The knife you’ve given him shakes as he holds it over El’s wound. He’s fucking terrified, but he knows it’s the only way. Exhaling, he cuts into her flesh. Blood pours from the wound and El’s screams tear from her chest. 

Everyone makes a sound of disgust and horror. Your own stomach lurches at the sight of Jonathan cutting into the leg. The image, the way El’s body convulses, the screams she releases, it’s all too much. You don’t feel yourself shaking until Steve guides your head into the nook of his shoulder, shielding you. 

“Thank you,” your breathing is shaky. You aren’t even sure if he’s heard you, but Steve nods and his hand rubs up and down your back. He’s doing whatever he can to help, being the solid surface you need to lean upon. Lending you the strength you need to hold El down and save her. 

You hear your knife glance against the ground, followed by El’s scream becoming deafening. Unable to stop yourself, you pull away from Steve to look at what’s happening. When you do, you almost gag. Jonathan’s fingers are now in El’s leg, digging underneath the flesh and muscle to find whatever the hell is in there. A horrible squelching sound fills the air. Faintly you think you can hear Will crying behind you. 

Jonathan struggles, digs deeper into the leg, but it only seems to be making everything worse. El twists and contorts beneath you, in agonizing pain. Her screams only intensify. A tear from your eye lands on her shirt, and you force yourself to hold her down despite how desperately you want to end it.

“Goddamn it!” Jonathan can’t find it. He can’t find whatever the hell is in El’s leg. It keeps moving the moment he thinks he has it. Everything is slick from blood. 

“No!” El spits out the wooden spoon, her voice raw from screaming. “Stop it!” 

You can’t stomach her pain any longer. The moment she pleads for it to stop, you move off of El and push Jonathan away from her. Nancy helps, touches his shoulder to alert him as well. The moment she has the room to, El sits herself up. “I can do it.

“Do what, El?” You ask, though you think you know anyways.

She breathes heavily. Tears flow freely down her face. She’s sitting down, one of her knees is pressed against her chest. The injured leg remains flat on the ground, her hand outstretched above it. Static, the one you always feel when El uses her powers, surrounds you. There’s a low hum, she grunts and screams, and yet her hand remains steady. You rub her back, offering her all the strength you can give her, in awe despite the poor timing of it. 

To have the strength to expel a foreign object from your body. You can’t imagine it. 

El releases one final long, harrowing scream. The lights flicker, the windows behind you rattle violently. You only just barely manage to cover Dustin and the kids from the shards of glass before they explode. At the same time, a small, writhing creature shoots from El’s leg. It stalls in the air, hovering in front of her face as she continues to scream. The creature is no bigger than the size Dart had been when Dustin first found him. The idea that it had been buried in El’s leg makes you feel ill. 

With the last of her energy, El flings the creature across the room. It lands with a sickening thud on the floor, before it starts to move. You watch in horror as it scurries away, releasing its own screech, until Hopper’s boot crashes down upon it, killing it. 

You’ve never been happier to see that cranky son of a bitch. 

Joyce stands behind him and you whimper pathetically when you see her. You miss your own mother. It’s been days since you’ve last seen her. You’re more homesick than you’ve ever been before. 

Alongside Joyce and Hopper is a man you’ve never seen before. He has glasses and a beard. As you study him, Jonathan makes a surprised sound. “Murray?”

“You know him?” 

Jonathan nods at you. “He’s the detective Nance and I visited last year.” 

“He’s insane.” Nancy says, though there’s a nostalgic smile on her face. 

Hopper steps forward, investigating the scene. Glass crunches beneath his boots. He stops in front of you and El. He looks down at you. “Always at the scene of the crime, huh?”

“Yeah,” you blow hair out of your face. “Can’t seem to ever stop myself.” Then, finally noticing his aggressively bright and floral shirt that he’s wearing, you tilt your head to the side. “Nice shirt, by the way. I like the color on you. You’ve been direly needing some color in your life.”

Dustin snorts and El manages a tired smile. Hopper rolls his eyes at you, though you can tell it’s more from fondness rather than annoyance like it usually is. You watch as his eyes drift towards Joyce, uncharacteristically shy. “Thanks, kid.”

“Anytime, old man.” 

– 

“The Mind Flayer, it built this monster in Hawkins, to stop El, to kill her and pave a way into our world.” 

You sit on the fountain’s edge. Dustin is next to you, Steve leans against you on the other side. Mike’s words surround you. 

He explains what he and the others have been dealing with while you’ve been gone. Innocent people have been getting possessed and turned into chemicalized substances. Their bodies melting together, conjoining to create a monster meant to kill El. With every detail Mike remembers, your stomach twists uncomfortably. It doesn’t sound real. It sounds like a thing from nightmares.

And somehow Billy has become the face of it. 

The last time you saw him, he had been a shell of who he used to be. He had been in pain. Obvious pain. Sweat had run down his flushed skin and his eyes had a frost in them unlike anything you had ever seen before. Instead of helping him, instead of telling anyone about this, you had abandoned Billy. 

“How big is this thing?” Hopper asks, shifting so that El can rest more comfortably against him. 

Jonathan sighs. “It’s… It’s big. Real big. Thirty feet, at least.”

“You’ve seen it?” Your eyes draw to the bruise on his forehead. The pained noise he made when you hugged him still rings in your ears. 

“We’ve had a rough night.” Nancy whispers, eyes downcast. 

“It sorta destroyed Hopper’s cabin.” Lucas looks up at the chief, a poorly feigned apologetic smile on his face. “Sorry.”

Steve interjects now. He asks questions, tries to make sure he understands. As he speaks with the group, your head falls onto his shoulder. Your head spins. Only hours ago you were dealing with Russians and national emergencies. Now, you and Steve try to wrap your heads around the idea of a giant human goo creature wreaking havoc on Hawkins.  

Which, according to Max, is still very much alive. 

But that doesn’t stop Will from trying to help. “But if we close the gate again–” 

“We cut the brain off from the body.”

“And kill it.” Lucas finishes for Max. “Theoretically.”

It sounds so simple, but you’ve been here before.

You’ve heard this conversation already; you were standing in the Byers’ dining room. Steve had been next to you, just like he is now, and Jonathan had been on your other side. The people surrounding you were the same, only now Robin and Will join. That November, the conversation had terrified you. Closing the gate. Killing the Mind Flayer and destroying its army. 

It had been the exact same conversation. And it terrifies you still, now. Only this time the fear is accompanied by an emptiness.

You’ve been here before. It hadn’t been enough. 

“How many more times are we going to kill it?” Your head remains pressed against Steve. Your eyes don’t lift from the ground. Exhaustion sags your body. “We thought we already killed the Mind Flayer. We went through hell and back to close the gate, only for it to be opened again not even a year later. By another country. I mean,” laughter crawls out of your throat. “Who’s to say that they won’t just open the gate again? They’ve already done it once–”

“Loverboy over here,” The bearded man from earlier, Murray, suddenly appears and slaps the back of Jonathan’s head. The man has a mad smile on his face, the kind that tells you he’s an insane genius. After Jonathan shoves him away, Murray stops in front of you. He looks down, a curious glint in his eyes. “He told me you were a ray of sunshine. Gotta be honest. I’m not really getting a real sunshine vibe from you.”

Steve subtly shifts your body so that he’s in front of you. His eyes are narrowed, body tense. “What’s that in your hands?”

Murray seems to now remember what he interrupted the group for. He clutches the pieces of paper in his hands, waves them in the air. “Ah. These, my perfectly coiffed haired friend, are blueprints.” 

“That’s just a poorly done drawing of squares and lines.” You squint at the papers. They’re no better than the map Mike had scribbled to navigate the tunnels last year.

“Seriously,” Murray turns back to Jonathan again. “I thought she was supposed to be the nice one.”

You open your mouth to argue, not at all liking whatever this random man is insinuating, but Hopper steps forward first. “Just start talking.”

He sighs, but agrees. Motioning everyone to follow, Murray guides the group to a nearby table so that he can lay his drawings out for everyone to see. “Okay, this is what Alexei called ‘the hub’.” Murray points to the center of the first drawing. “Now, the hub takes us to the vault room.”

“Okay, where’s the gate?” Hopper hovers over him, attentive. 

“Right here.” Murray now points to a random box, far from where you know the gate actually is. You bite your lip, unsure if you should speak up just yet. “I don’t know the scale on this, but I think it’s fairly close to the vault room. Maybe fifty feet or so.”

You snort obnoxiously loud, getting everyone’s attention. “You’re so wrong that it physically pains me.”

“I’m sorry?” Murray gives you an odd look. When Jonathan and Nancy showed up on his doorstep last year, the two of them had nothing but great things to say about you. Jonathan had waxed poetry about you while Nancy had sat at the dinner table, resentful. Now, meeting you, Murray is really struggling to understand where that all came from. 

“It’s more like five hundred feet.” Erica says. When she sees Murray’s exasperated expression, she can’t help but laugh at the old man. “What, you’re just gonna waltz in there like it’s commie Disneyland or something?” 

“And who are you?” 

“Erica Sinclair. And who are you?”

“Murray… Bauman.”

“Listen, Mr. Bunman.” You have to stifle a laugh into Steve’s shoulder. You love Erica, you really do. “I’m not trying to tell you how to do things, but I’ve been down in that shithole for twenty-four hours. And with all due respect, you do what this man tells you, you’re all gonna die.”

“I’m sorry, why is this four year old speaking to me?”

You slide off the fountain’s edge and stand. Whoever this guy is, you don’t like his snippy attitude. “She’s ten, actually, and she’s right.”

“Yeah, you bald bastard!” Lucas reprimands her, but she doubles down. “Just the facts!”

While you enjoy her quips, you gently grab Erica’s shoulders and place her behind you. There isn’t time for her to make a grown man cry. “We went through hell down there. It won’t be as easy as walking fifty feet. The place is huge.”

“They’re right.” Dustin speaks up. “You’re all gonna die, but you don’t have to. Excuse me, may I?” Even before Murray has consented, your brother is already grabbing the blueprints. He sits down and starts explaining. “See this room here? This is a storage facility. There’s a hatch in here that feeds into their underground ventilation system.”

“It’s how we accidentally got in.” You add, figuring any extra information could help.

“Wait, you accidentally broke into a secret Russian lair?” Mike tries to hide it, but you can see that he’s impressed. You know that once this is all over, he’ll grill you for details later.

“No, we thought it’d be fun to get tortured by commies on the fourth of July.” Steve points to his swollen eye. “Yes, Wheeler. It was an accident.”

“Guys!” Dustin shouts. When he has everyone’s attention again, he sighs. “Jesus. Anyways, these vents will lead you to the base of the weapon. It’s a bit of a maze down there, but between me, Y/N, and Erica, we can show you the way.” 

Hopper stares down at the three of you, unamused. “You can show us the way?”

Dustin is about to agree, but you cover his mouth with your hand. “Yes, I can show you the way. The kids can stay here, but I remember everything from when we were down there. If you want all the hero glory, then fine. Fight some Russians. But I can be your navigator.”

“No.” Hopper, Steve, Dustin, and Jonathan say at the same time. 

You roll your eyes at all of them. “Okay, I was only talking to Hopper. The rest of you,” you glare at your brother and the two teens next to him. “Aren’t a part of this conversation.”

“There isn’t a conversation to be had, kid.” Hopper scoffs at you. He doesn’t want to hear whatever you’re about to say. He won’t let you back down there again. From the state Steve is in, Hopper doesn’t even want Joyce coming with him. “You’re not going. End of discussion.”

“You don’t seriously expect me to let you walk into a death trap, right? I mean, I know we argue a lot, but you can’t be that dumb.” Hopper has started to walk away now, trying to put an end to the conversation, but you follow him anyways. “Listen to me!” He ignores you, doesn’t turn around. Instead, Hopper starts gathering bullets as he picks up a shotgun from one of the guards on the ground. Groaning, you continue to chase him. 

You don’t care how annoying you’re being. You’ll nag him until your last dying breath. If he doesn’t want you getting hurt, then he has to understand that you don’t want him getting hurt either. “Hopper, I’m serious. El…” You look at the girl, who is far behind the two of you now as she rests near the fountain. Your voice grows thick. A wave of emotions rush over you, seeing her. She’s so small. She’s still just a kid, despite the power that lies within her. “She needs you. You–you can’t get hurt.”

“And I won’t.” 

“You don’t know that,” you grab the man’s shirt, but he tries to walk anyways. You plant your feet on the ground and grit your teeth. He’s frustratingly strong. “Please, just–you’re her father. You–you can’t leave her–” You stumble over your words, try to think of how to convince him. There has to be a way, a middle ground. Isn’t he the one who taught El what compromise means? 

In your nagging midst, you overhear Dustin and the party all catch up. Talk about how they missed one another. It’s a sweet reunion, seeing them come together again after being separated for so long; your boys are together again. It feels like a lifetime ago where they were all together on Weathertop hill. Seeing them together again, it hits you. 

The walkies. Cerebro.

“What if I could still communicate with you from above?” You shout, frantic. Hopper stops walking. He still doesn’t look at you, but he indicates that you have his attention. Taking a deep breath, you don’t waste any time. “We have walkies. Dustin, all the kids. It’s how they communicate with one another. Always have. What if… what if I give you directions using them? That way, you’ll fulfill your annoying need to be a hero while I fulfill my annoying need to protect everyone.”

Your words come rushing out, messy and jumbled, but Hopper seems to understand. He’s quiet, mulls what you’ve said over and over again in his head. He inhales, closes his eyes, and then exhales agonizingly slow. When he opens his eyes to look at you, he’s resolved. “You’re really annoying, you know that?”

A relieved smile graces your face. Knowing you’ve gotten through to Hopper, you finally release his shirt. You straighten it back out, wipe some dirt off of it. It really is a good shirt, one you know was almost definitely purchased for a woman named Joyce Byers. “It adds to my charm.”

Hopper chuckles, shakes his head, before walking over to where your brother stands with the others. He fishes a walkie from his back pocket, tosses a spare one to Dustin. “Hey, heads up. Your sister came up with a shockingly genius compromise. You guys can navigate, just from someplace safe.”

Dustin sighs. “It’s not that simple.”

“The signal won’t reach.” Erica clarifies for him. 

You motion at them to explain faster. “But…”

“But,” Dustin quickly explains your idea. “We’d need something with a high enough frequency band to relay with the Russians’ radio tower. But for that to work, you need someone who has both seen their comms room and has access to a super-powered handcrafted radio–”

“Dustin,” you hit his shoulder, urging him to get to the point already. “Just tell him about Cerebro.”

“I was getting there! Look, we have one already situated at the highest point in Hawkins.” Your brother shakes his head. “If you need us to navigate, we got you. But we need a head start… and a car.”

“Hey, chief.” You stand beside Hopper now, grinning ear to ear. “Don’t you have a car?”

He stares past you, and the rage in his eyes amuses you immensely. It’s taking everything within him not to start yelling, which only causes your shit eating grin to grow. You extend your arm, hold your hand out palm-facing upwards. This is the best day of your life. “Come on, give me the car keys, Hopper.” 

Sucking his teeth, Hopper drops the car keys into your hand. “I hate you.”

Hopper stands in front of you, annoyance and irritability in his eyes as he stares at you, but you don’t care. A surge of warmth cascades through you instead. He listened. It means more to you than the man could ever know. Your arms find their way around him, surprising both you and Hopper, as you pull him into a hug. “Thank you for listening to me.”

“Yeah, well. Don’t make me regret it.” Hopper says, his voice rough. He clears his throat, allows his hand to pat your shoulder. He may not know what you’ve gone through, but he thinks he can understand the weight the history has left you. It’s the same weight that he carries every day. The guilt, the anger that follows it. He clears his throat again and pulls you off of him, keeping you at arm’s length. “Do me a favor, will you? Make sure El and the others are safe.”

You sniff, wipe away tears. You’re not sure why you’re crying. “I will, I promise. Good luck, old man.”

“Good luck, kid.” He hesitates, still holding your shoulders. His breath hitches and his eyes don’t leave yours. There’s something in them, almost a certain kindness that once reflected in your father’s eyes when you were younger. The gaze burns you at first, but you stare back at Hopper through it. After he seems to find what he’s looking for, Hopper swallows. He says what Joyce has always said about you; from his conversation with the woman back at Melvald’s. “You’re the best of them.”

More tears well in your eyes, but you wipe them away before he can tease you. Hopper releases you, shoves you in a playful manner, and you can’t help but laugh. It’s a warm moment. His words simmer on your skin. You’ve heard them before, you know what people say about you, but the words are different coming from Hopper. 

Praise doesn’t come naturally to him. Words have always plagued him; the ones he has just told you hold a weight that’s even heavier than the guilt the two of you carry within yourselves. You’ve known Jim Hopper for three years now, but as you watch him walk over to El, soft smile still on his face from his conversation with you, you finally understand him. 

–

Steve is waiting for you at the fountain, whispering quietly with Robin. The two of them stand off to the side, away from the others. He’s nervous, uncomfortable. He stands with his back away from Jonathan and Nancy, who are a few feet away talking to Murray. His arms are crossed over his chest and his fingers tap together in an anxious tick you’ve become familiar with. 

The moment he sees you approaching, all the tension in Steve’s body melts away. 

He grabs your hand the second you’re within reach. Pulling you into his chest, he kisses the top of your head. “Any updates, angel?”

You hum against him, allowing yourself a moment to bask in his warmth. It’s been a long day. It’ll be an even longer night. “You know Weathertop hill?”

“Yeah, why?”

“Good.” You place Hopper’s keys into Steve’s hand. “You’re driving us, then.”

Robin points at Jonathan, who sneaks glances at the three of you. “Define ‘us’. Because, no offense, he seems nice and all, but he keeps looking over at you like a lost puppy and it’s making me uncomfortable.”

“Be nice, he’s still my best friend.” Flicking her forehead, you silently scold Robin. “And it’s just going to be the three of us with Dustin and Erica. Jonathan and Nancy are taking the rest of the kids to Murray’s bunker. He’s just… He’s worried. Probably wants to make sure he says goodbye to me before we leave.”

Robin makes a confused face, reminding you that she’s new to all of this. That she hasn’t had to say goodbye to her loved ones every year with the fear of them not returning. You sigh. “It’s… Kinda a tradition, at this point. A final goodbye before all hell breaks loose.”

“How many times do you guys almost die on a weekly basis?”

Steve snorts. “Depends on the month. November seems to be our worst one, though.”

“Astounding…”

You leave Steve to deal with Robin’s amazement on his own, though you laugh as you walk away. Ever since the events of Will’s disappearance, you’ve done everything you can to not think about what you’ve all been through. However, seeing the bewildered amazement on Robin’s face the more you reveal to her, you can’t help but laugh. 

Jonathan sees you approaching him and Nancy and steps aside to make room for you. They’re still talking to Murray, although the man is more lecturing them than anything. He holds up a bunch of keys, explaining in great detail which one goes into specific locks. It’s dizzying trying to keep track of it all. 

Secretly, you’re grateful that you’re going with Steve and the others. Easier key instructions. 

“This one is for the second to last bottom lock–”

“Murray, can I cut in real quick?” You try to be polite about it, but truly you don’t care whether or not you have the man’s permission. 

He glares at you. “Aren’t you already?”

“Good point!” You grab Nancy’s and Jonathan’s arms and pull them away with a wicked smile on your face. When you’ve dragged them far enough away from Murray, you wrap your arms around them both. Jonathan sinks into the unexpected embrace. Nancy stiffens. You try to ignore it. “Get to that old man’s bunker safely, please?”

“Of course, bug.” Jonathan has wrapped an arm around you. He closes his eyes, his fingers span across your back. “Stay at Weathertop, get to safety. Maybe even get some rest while you can.”

“I’ll try, bee.” Your laugh is wet. This will never get any easier. 

Nancy shifts in your embrace, and for a moment you’re afraid she’ll pull away entirely, but instead she surprises you by wrapping an arm around you as well. Her chin is tucked against your neck, she still hasn’t melted into the embrace like Jonathan has, but she’s trying. Lips close to your ear, she whispers, “I’ll keep him safe.”

You suck in a breath. You hadn’t known how desperately you needed to hear Nancy’s reassurance, to hear her silent apology. Pulling away from them, you look at Jonathan and Nancy. “I love you. I love you both.”

Jonathan smiles, the same way he did the night you met him on the Wheeler’s porch. Nancy ducks her head down shyly, the same way she did the night she opened the door to let you into her home. 

You squeeze their hands one last time before leaving to say goodbye to the others. 

Lucas wishes you luck, Will hugs you as tight as ever, and El offers you a partial smile. She’s still recovering from whatever the monster did to her leg, so you brush some hair out of her face and kiss her head.

“Sucks you were down in hell this whole time. Could really go for a brownie right now.” Mike says, a light in his eyes as El’s head rests in his lap.

You stick your tongue out at him. “Sorry, couldn’t find a way to bake while getting chased by Russians with guns.”

“Lame.”

“Goodbye, Wheeler.”

Then you turn to Max, who has been silent this entire time. She hugs you tightly when she sees you. “He’ll be okay, right?”

Your body goes stiff. Somehow, in the midst of Hopper and the others, you had forgotten about Billy. How he’s infected. Flayed. It hasn’t escaped your notice that no one seems to want to bring the matter up, either. When it had been Will, everyone had wanted to make sure he wouldn’t die if the gate closed. 

But no one has asked the same question for Billy. 

Swallowing, you slowly reciprocate Max’s embrace. “We’ll… We’ll find a way. We always do.”

Though the words aren’t meant to be a lie, you can’t help but feel that you’re breaking an oath when you say them. 

– 

Steve hadn’t noticed what brand of car the keys belonged to at first. However, the moment his brain recognizes the iconic Cadillac logo on its keychain, he practically starts to drool. A fucking Cadillac.

It doesn’t take him long to round everyone up and drag you outside.

“I was saying goodbye to Joyce,” you grumble, struggling to keep up with Steve’s quick footsteps.

“It’s a Cadillac, Y/N!” Steve can almost feel the foam pooling around his mouth. His footsteps increase even more, his body vibrating at the knowledge that he gets to drive his dream car. His dad hadn’t wanted to buy him one, said that the BMW was more practical. Reliable. When Steve pushes the mall’s front door open and sees the beautiful, timeless car parked perfectly in front of him, he almost collapses. “Oh, man, now this…This is what I’m talkin’ about!”

“‘Toddfather’?” Robin points out the license plate and its horrible name.

You make a face, but Steve doesn’t let her ruin his moment. He’s ecstatic. This is arguably the best thing that has happened to him all day (besides maybe kissing you). For fuck’s sake, it’s a goddamn Cadillac. “Oh, screw Todd! Steve’s her daddy now.”

Steve hops into the car’s front seat like a little kid with a toy car. Meanwhile you, Robin, Dustin, and Erica retract your heads in disgust at what he’s just said. Robin looks at you, repulsed. “Did he just talk about himself in the third person?”

Erica follows up with her own creeped out question. “Did he just call himself daddy?” 

“I’m choosing to ignore him right now.” You say to both of the girls, pressing a hand to your forehead as you walk to the car. There’s so much you don’t want to unpack with what Steve has said. 

“You can’t ignore me, Y/N.” Steve leans over the center counsel and opens the passenger door for you. “We already established that I’m really annoying.” 

“Just take us to Weathertop, please.” You buckle yourself in and make sure the kids have their seatbelts on as well. When you see that Robin has found herself in the middle seat, you snicker at her. She’s squished between Dustin and Erica, her knees are pressed uncomfortably to her chest.

“Why did I get stuck in the middle?” She complains.

Steve fixes one of the mirrors before revving the engine. As he pulls out of the mall’s parking lot, he offhandedly responds, “Passenger seat is reserved for girls I’m dating.”

Everyone in the backseat gags, and you blush furiously. You and Steve haven’t had the time to talk about your relationship. Or if there even is a relationship. But he’s just referred to you as the girl he’s dating. He kissed you yesterday, or was it today?

Time has blurred together, but Steve’s hand rests on your thigh as he drives and you’re his girl. 

There will be time to talk about all of it later. You’ll make sure of it this time. 

Steve’s foot presses on the gas, speeding through Hawkins. Neither of you were given an exact time frame from Hopper, but he presses down harder on the pedal and sends the car flying. There’s music on the radio, doing its best to distract everyone, but your hands are still antsy. You’re nervous, there’s still so much left unspecified within the plan. Steve notices your fidgeting fingers and removes his hand from your thigh to play with them; he’s trying to soothe you. 

You intertwine your fingers through his and smile at him. Steve winks back at you, and you admire how lovely he looks as he drives. The moment is broken when Robin shoves her head between the two of you. “What the hell is a Cerebro?”

“It’s basically a radio tower that Dustin built for his girlfriend, Suzie.” You explain to her, voice raised to be heard over the music and wind. “She lives in Utah.”

Robin raises an eyebrow, intrigued. She leans back in her seat and pokes Dustin’s shoulder. “Suzie must be really special, huh? I mean, if you built this thing and lugged it all the way to the middle of nowhere just to talk to her.” 

Your brother preens at this, pleased someone has recognized his romantic efforts. “I mean, nobody’s scientifically perfect, but Suzie’s about as close to being perfect as any human could possibly be.”

“She sounds made up to me.” Erica snarks from the backseat. She looks over at Steve, tries to get his opinion. “She sound made up to you?”

Steve hesitates for just a fraction of a second too long, and you sigh. Dustin notices it, too. “Why are you hesitating, Steve?”

“I–I’m not!” He looks to you for help, but you only shake your head at him. All he had to do was respond promptly. This is his own fault. “I’m not hesitating! I–I think she sounds real. You know, totally, absolutely real.”

“Not really loving your uncertain tone, Steve.” You say, and Dustin nods in agreement. “Suzie is real. I mean, I’m almost positive that she is.”

Dustin does a double take at your use of the word “almost”. He’s about to say something, demand to know why you’re not certain Suzie is real, before he notices that Steve is about to miss the Weathertop turn. “Left, turn left!”

“There’s not a road here?” Steve argues, squinting his eyes in the dark to see whatever the hell the kid is seeing.

Dustin screams at him again to turn, and you only have a second to brace yourself before Steve jerks the wheel. The car’s tires screech on the asphalt as your body gets thrown forward. You scream, getting war flashbacks to when you’d been in the back of Billy’s car as Max had very recklessly driven you and Steve to the tunnels. Somehow, this is so much worse. 

The car breaks through a fence and your screaming only intensifies. “What the fuck?”

“Hendersons, where are we going?” Steve screams to you and your brother. He’s desperately trying to keep hold of the steering wheel as the car struggles against the hillside’s grass. 

“Up!” You and Dustin exclaim. One hand clutches the door, the other clutches the seat. The entire car is practically at a ninety degree angle as Steve continues to drive up the hill. It’s bumpy, your head hits the back of the seat more times than you would like, and your heart races. 

The car makes a concerning amount of strange noises the further up the hill you drive. Robin clutches her stomach. “We’re not going to make it!” 

“Yes we are!” Steve does everything he can. His foot never leaves the gas. “C’mon, baby. C’mon!” 

“Sweet talking the car won’t help!” You shriek after a particularly rough bump leaves you nauseous. The poor car strains against the giant hill. The tires, not at all made for off-roading, get caught in the grass. 

Steve hits the wheel and curses. “C’mon! Please!” He presses harder on the gas, but the car comes to a stop. The tires move uselessly against the slick mud underneath.

Ill and desperately wanting to get out of the car, you unbuckle your seatbelt. “We can walk the rest of the way, Steve.” He gives you a despaired look, pleading with you to let him continue playing with his new car, but you roll your eyes at him. You’re five seconds away from vomiting, he can deal with abandoning the car. “The Toddfather is dead. We can mourn her later.”

Steve groans but turns the car off as everyone gets out, preparing for the walk ahead. The hill is just as steep as it had been earlier this week when you were with the party. While you’re annoyed you have to walk it again, at least this time it’s night and the heat isn’t as suffocating. 

When you reach the crest of the hill, Dustin immediately runs to Cerebro. He crouches next to the radio and turns it on. “Bald Eagle, do you copy? Bald Eagle, I repeat, this is Scoops Troop, do you copy?”

Bald Eagle had been your idea. 

“Scoops Troop?” You ask your brother.

He nods, proud. “Thought of it myself.”

“Not bad, buddy.”

Murray’s voice crackles over the walkie. “Yes, I copy.”

Everyone lets out a breath of relief when you hear him. So far, the first phase of the plan seems to be working. Cerebro can reach all the way down to the lair; you can communicate with Hopper and Joyce. So far, so good.

Dustin starts to give Murray the directions he’ll need for the vents. You and Steve roam the perimeter of the hill, weary and needing something to do. While you’re far from the Russians below you, you still don’t necessarily feel like you’re out of harm’s reach. Robin stays with the kids, figuring it’s best to give the two of you some time alone. 

You stare out into the view of Hawkins from so high above. Weathertop has always been your favorite spot in the small town. Your first summer in Hawkins, Jonathan had introduced you to the hill; you used to spend all your time up here with him. You’d spend hours running up and down the length of it, giggling and sunkissed. If you stand still enough, you can still hear the laughter in the breeze. You miss Jonathan and being kids with him. 

“I haven’t been up here in years.” Steve stands next to you, voice soft. He stares out into the field as well, admires its beauty the way you are, though really he just wants the excuse to look at you. “Forgot how peaceful it was.”

“I love it here,” you tell him. “Late in the summer, dandelions appear. They scatter the entire hilltop. I like running through them.”

“Well, when they start to bloom,” Steve wraps his arms around your waist, pulls you back into his chest. He presses a soft kiss to your cheek, lingers. He hasn’t held you in so long, his body aches with the weight of yours against it. “We can run through them together.”

You smile into the embrace, lean into the kiss, tremble into the words. He will always make you weak. It’s an exhilarating feeling, knowing someone can dismantle every bone in your body with less than six words. “I think I’d like that–”

From the corner of your eye, you see lights flickering in the distance. They catch your attention, standing out against the black backdrop of the night sky. You shrug Steve off, feeling a tug in your chest to walk closer to the hill’s edge. You need to figure out what you’re seeing. With every step you take, the more your vision focuses in on the lights, the more dread fills your body.

It’s the mall. The lights are coming from the mall. 

You freeze. 

The lights are going haywire, flickering wildly. It’s supposed to be deserted. Jonathan and the others were supposed to have left already, but still your stomach sinks. Something isn’t right. 

Steve stumbles after you, confused as to why you pulled away, but when he sees the mall as well, he stills. “What the…?”

“They left. They said they would be gone by now.” You try to calm yourself down, try to focus on the reasoning. The mall is empty. It’s supposed to be empty. Jonathan promised you he would make it to Murray’s safely. He wouldn’t lie, he would never lie to you. 

Robin, Dustin, and Erica come up behind you and Steve. You all stand there at the crest. No one moves, transfixed by what they see. The lights continue to flicker, miles below, impossibly too far away from help.

Someone has to help.

Your feet move, twisting your body to run back to the radio. You need answers. You need to know what the hell is going on, if everyone is safe, and Dustin is right behind you. He falls to the grass in front of the radio and frantically brings it to his lips. “Griswold Family, this is Scoops Troop. Do you copy? Over!”

He repeats the call over and over, but no one responds. With each passing moment of silence, your panic turns into blind fear. “I repeat, do you copy–” A sudden, horrifyingly familiar screech, one that has haunted your nightmares for years now, rips through the radio’s speaker. It’s loud and gruesome and sends ice into your body. Your brother’s concern rivals your own. “Griswold Family, please confirm your safety. Are you enroute to Bald Eagle’s nest?”

Dustin is screaming into the radio at this point, demanding answers, but there’s only snarling on the other side. Your breathing quickens, the edges of your vision blur. Sweat trickles down your neck. You can’t breathe. Jonathan is still at the mall. Mike and Will. Nancy, Max and Lucas. 

El.

The Mind Flayer has them. 

Steve tries to grab your hand, but you’re blind to it all. In raw desperation, you tear the radio out of Dustin’s hands and bring it to your own lips. “Jonathan! Nancy! Mike, anyone.”

Your pleads fill the void of a response in the night air. Steve sits next to you, all he can do is watch as your pleading turns into begging. Your voice cracks, the words scratch your throat. Seeing your white-knuckled grip on the radio, Steve can’t take it anymore. 

“C’mon,” he takes your hand and pulls you up. Numb with fear, your body is limp. You try to fight him, you don’t know why he’s pulling you away from the radio when your friends need help, but Steve has made up his mind. He takes the device out of your hands and makes you look at him. “They need our help.”

“That’s what I’m trying to do!”

“Y/N, look at me.” Steve motions to the car, and finally you understand. “We’re going.”

Relief threatens to make your knees weak. Too wired from the debilitating combination of fear and helplessness, all you can do is nod at Steve and allow him to guide you down the hill. Dustin and Erica see that you’re leaving and try to stop you. “Where are you going?”

“To get them the hell outta there!” Steve calls over his shoulder, fumbling through his pocket to retrieve the keys. “Stay here, contact the others!”

Dustin calls out your name, anxious. He doesn’t want you to leave, and you hate that you have to leave him. But right now, he and Erica are as far from danger as physically possible. Weathertop hill is miles away from Starcourt. Right now, Jonathan needs you, and so do the others. Breaking out of Steve’s grasp, you run back to your brother and kiss his forehead. “I’ll be back, I promise.”

You run back to the car where Steve awaits, and Robin is quick to follow. She runs after the two of you and catches the walkie that Dustin tosses her. “Stay in touch,” he orders the three of you, still entirely against the whole thing. 

“We will!” You shout back at him, already crawling into the car. “Stay safe, don’t do anything stupid, and stay here.”

The backdoor closes, Robin’s seatbelt clicks into place, then the Cadillac’s engine roars to life.

–

Your hands won't stop shaking as Steve drives. Nothing he says can reassure you. The car hasn’t gone below seventy miles an hour despite the narrow road, and still it doesn’t feel like it will be enough. 

“I’m sure they’re okay.” Steve tries again to sound convincing, like his hands also don’t shake as he grips the steering wheel. “I mean, they have El. She’s a superhero.”

“Total superhero.” Robin unhelpfully chimes in. Her own nervousness is on display as she twists her fingers together. 

You draw your knees into your chest, trying desperately to make yourself smaller. You’re terrified for your friends, you should’ve never split up. The party always does better when it’s together. Forcing air into your lungs, you stare out the windshield. “How much farther?”

“A minute, maybe even less.” Steve promises, pressing down even harder on the gas pedal. The engine’s roar deafens your ears, and you welcome the distraction. 

In the distance you see Starcourt’s blinding neon lights. They grow bigger and bigger with every passing second, and you release the breath you had been holding when you see that you’re close. The moment of relief is short lived, however, when you hear gunshots pierce through the night. The sound rings in your eyes and the sight of Nancy firing the gun chokes you. 

“There!” You point towards where she stands and Steve changes the direction of the car. The tires screech and your body thuds against the door but you don’t care. All you can focus on is Nancy standing in front of Jonathan’s car, unmoving as she fires bullet after bullet. Something seems to be wrong with his car, you can hear the engine fail each time he turns the key.

You squint your eyes. At first, you can’t see what Nancy is firing at, but within seconds you see the third car barreling straight towards her at a terrifying speed. In the driver’s seat is Billy. “Steve!”

“I see him!” He floors it. 

The impact knocks all the air out of your body. It all happens so fast. Glass shatters. Metal hits metal. Your body gets thrown, your head roughly hits Steve’s shoulder as the car spins out. Your eyes squeeze shut at the momentum. You can’t remember if you scream. 

“Are you guys okay?” Steve asks, panting, as soon as he car comes to a stop. His head is spinning yet the first thing he does is look to see if you’re hurt. There’s some glass in your hair, but for the most part there isn’t a scratch on you, which he’s thankful for. 

“Ask me tomorrow?” Robin stares blankly ahead, still trying to process what’s just happened. 

It takes a few moments for you to come to. Your ears are ringing. Your neck aches from being thrown so suddenly to the left. “Let’s never do that again.”

“Agreed…” Robin swallows, but quickly her mouth goes dry. “Oh, shit.”

You follow her line of sight and nearly throw up. The Mind Flayer crawls over the mall and releases a thundering screech, and the size of it alone makes you want to cry. It’s huge, bigger than anything you’ve ever seen before. 

A car honks behind you, breaking you from your terror. Your head whips around, finding Nancy in the passenger seat of Jonathan’s car. “Get in!”

Quickly the three of you scramble out of the wrecked car. There isn’t room in any of the passenger seats, so you yank the trunk door open and scream at Robin and Steve to crawl in. It’s a tight fit, you have to press your back against Steve’s chest, but it’ll have to do. 

As soon as the trunk is closed, Jonathan steps on the gas. You’re thrown further into Steve’s chest and Robin, who sits in front of you, lets out a quiet yelp when she sees the Mind Flayer chasing after the car, not far behind. Seeing this as well, Jonathan takes a rough turn and everyone in the car tries to brace for the rest of the ride. 

“Are you okay, bug?” Jonathan shouts over his shoulder, eyes still on the road.

“Fine and dandy,” you pick a piece of glass out of your hair. Steve helps, carefully combing through your hair as well. The Mind Flayer screams, tries to lunge at the car, and your heart skips a beat. You try to distract yourself. “I crash cars every day. How about you guys, what brought y’all out here tonight?”

“Billy.” Everyone in the car says in unison.

You wince. “It’s always him, isn’t it?”

No one answers. Your quips don’t land. Robin hasn’t looked away from the Mind Flayer yet, Steve doesn’t want to look at it. Jonathan stares at the road ahead of him and Nancy flinches every time the Mind Flayer’s body thuds against the earth. The rest of the kids are silent, the echoes of its footfalls pounding against their eardrums. 

It’s grim in the car. Really fucking grim. 

“Dusty-bun, you copy?” A girl’s voice comes through over the radio. It’s not a voice you recognize; never in your life have you heard anyone besides your own mother refer to your brother as Dusty-bun.

Steve’s bewildered expression matches your own. Then Dustin’s voice crackles through the radio, and your bewilderment turns into relief. At least your brother is far away from whatever the hell is chasing you right now. “I copy, Suzie-poo. It sounds much better now, thanks.” 

“Suzie,” Steve and Robin breathe out at the same time. You smile at them, smug. They had their doubts, but you were almost certain she had been real. Serves them right. 

The nickname Dustin has for his girlfriend, however, is awful. “‘Suzie-poo’? That’s the best nickname he could’ve come up with?”

“I like bee, better.” Jonathan agrees.

Steve scoffs. “Honey has a nicer ring to it.”

“Both of you shut up!” You don’t have time for their weird ‘my horse is bigger than yours’ competition. Dustin’s started speaking over the radio again and you’re trying to listen in case it’s important. He’s asking Suzie whether she knows what Planck’s constant is, and you have no idea how any of this is relevant to the situation at hand. 

“Okay, so I know it starts with two sixes, and then a…” Dustin’s voice trails off. Apparently this Planck thing is a number, one he can’t seem to remember. “W-What is it?”

“Okay, let me just be clear on this.” The tone of Suzie’s voice makes you pity your brother. It’s an angry tone, annoyed and fed up. Whatever she’s about to say, it won’t be pretty. “I haven’t heard from you in a week, and now you want a mathematical equation that you should know so you can… save the world?”

You whistle, commending the girl’s sense of self worth. “She’s got a point.” 

Dustin pleads with her, promising that he’ll make it up to Suzie as soon as he can. You feel a bit bad for him, honestly. He really had been trying to contact her ever since he got home from camp. How was he supposed to know his week would end up being dominated by Russians?

“You can make it up to me now.” Suzie’s voice lowers a frightening octave. You have no idea what she’s about to say, and a large part of you wants to throw the radio out the window before you’re forced to find out. 

“What?” Dustin sounds frightened as well, which doesn’t make you feel any better. 

“I want to hear it.”

Horror fills you. It’s worse. So much worse than you ever could’ve imagined. You know exactly what Suzie wants from Dustin. “Oh, no… He told her.”

“Told her what?” Steve asks you, confused by this entire ordeal. Dustin and Suzie argue in the background. She’s insistent and your brother tries his best to convince her otherwise. 

Jonathan’s eyes meet Steve’s in the rearview mirror, mischief in them. “Theater camp.”

“Jonathan Byers, I will hurt you!” You hiss at him, utterly mortified. Sometimes you despise the fact that he’s your closest friend. He knows far too much about you. 

Steve has so many questions, but he forgets all of them when Dustin starts to sing. “Turn around, look at what you see.”

His voice is clear and beautiful, a testament to the countless hours the two of you were forced to endure in vocal lessons. When you were younger and still living in Virginia, your mother made you and your brother attend a musical theater camp every summer. She loved having you guys perform little shows for her around the house. Said your voices were like angels to listen to. 

The day you and Dustin moved to Hawkins, you both swore to never tell anyone about the camp. The secret would die with you. 

Jonathan only knows about it because your mom had him video tape Christmas carols a few years ago (like the traitor that he is). It had taken several batches of cookies, numerous pleas, and a handful of threats to ensure he wouldn’t tell anyone what he saw. 

“In her face, the mirror of your dreams.” Dustin’s melodic voice floats through the car. The song had been one the two of you sang frequently at camp, its verses simple yet fun to sing together. 

Steve and Robin share a look of disbelief. They’ve completely forgotten about the Mind Flayer still chasing after the car. Suzie, a surprisingly good singer as well, now joins Dustin. They sing together, in a sweet, childish way. You can’t help but sing along, harmonizing with them. 

Everyone in the car looks at you as if you’re insane, but you’re too tired and exhausted to care. You’ve had the weirdest two days of your goddamn life. Sue you for singing along. It’s a good song. 

That, or maybe you’re just delirious from dehydration.

After a minute or so, the song comes to a close, and you’re almost saddened by that. You’ve missed singing with your brother. You make a mental note to bug him about it later. “Planck’s constant is 6.62607004.”

Dustin laughs into the radio, happy that Suzie finally revealed the number. “You just saved the world!”

“Gosh, I miss you, Dusty-bun.”

The two continue to go back and forth with their baby talk, which you cringe at. It’s disgusting to overhear, although you guess you understand now why Dustin hates being around you and Steve. You’ll apologize to him later. 

Dustin’s voice cuts off unexpectedly, which you assume is Erica’s doing. You’ll also thank her later. The car goes quiet again. No one knows what to follow Dustin’s impromptu performance with. 

“So, theater camp, huh?” Steve finally breaks the silence, squeezing you gently in his arms as he teases. 

“Tell anyone and I swear I’ll–” The Mind Flayer suddenly turns around, catching your attention. It runs away, back towards the mall. It doesn’t make any sense. Everyone is here, in the car. It only wants El. Unease twists your stomach. You lean forward and look at who is in the car. When you see Will and Lucas in the seat in front of you, you panic. “Where are the others?”

You’re practically crawling over the seat to try and get to Jonathan and Nancy. “Where’s Max and El? Where the hell is Mike?”

Nancy tries to distance herself from your anger. “We got separated, but they’re–they’re fine. We had to guide the Mind Flayer away from the mall–”

“So you left them?”

“We didn’t really have much of a choice, Y/N!” Nancy screams back at you now, insulted that you truly believe she would ever leave her brother behind willingly. She wouldn’t do that. She knows that you know this. 

“It’s going back for them! It fucking turned around, can’t you see that? We need to follow it, now!” 

“Y/N–”

“Turn. Around.”

“Steve, sit Y/N back down!” Jonathan’s yell cuts in between you and Nancy. You’re about to start spewing curses at him, but Steve’s arms are strong and force you back into his lap. You’re livid. “Hold on!” 

Jonathan knows you’re right. He tightens his hold on the steering wheel and stomps on the brakes. The car spins, he twists the wheel, controls it as best as he can, before he steadies the vehicle and accelerates back towards the mall. 

– 

When you get to the mall, Lucas announces that he has a plan. 

“Fireworks have an insane amount of gunpowder in them.” He explains to the group, waving around a handful of fireworks he left in the trunk. You’re all carrying some as you run through the mall’s parking lot. “If we tie them together, we can mimic the damage of dynamite.”

“Think it’ll be enough to kill the Mind Flayer?” Nancy asks, hesitant.

“If we throw them from above, yeah!”

You kiss Lucas’ cheek, only barely managing not to trip over your feet as you run. “I think you’re a genius, Sinclair.”

Inside the mall, everyone quickly sets the fireworks up. Faintly you can hear the Mind Flayer lurking somewhere, its roars echoing throughout the building, but it hasn’t found you guys yet. Lighters get passed around, fireworks get messily taped together, groups are divided in an attempt to cover the most ground. Jonathan with Nancy. Will with Lucas. You and Steve with Robin.

You’re taping together the last of your fireworks when you look down over the railing. You almost drop the fireworks in your hand when you see Billy hovering over El. He’s so much bigger than she is. She’s hardly even visible beneath him. Your stomach churns. “He’s here.”

Thuds shake the ground. The Mind Flayer descends from the rooftop and crawls over to where Billy has placed El. Its mouth opens, preparing for the kill, and Lucas throws the first firework. “Flay this, you ugly piece of shit!”

Bursts of light collide into the monster. It hisses, turns to face the direction the firework was thrown, and Lucas throws another into its mouth. 

Smoke begins to fill the air. The whistle of the rockets sting your ears. The light blinds you. It’s loud and messy and fireworks rain down upon the monster. Everyone throws the bundles they have, and yet still you hesitate. Billy’s eyes flash through your mind. How the red in them overtook the icy blue. The sweat that poured from his face. The cruelty that seeped through his skin. 

It’s horrible what’s happened to him. He didn’t deserve to become a pawn in this maddening game. 

But someone has to end it. You breathe in, relax your body, and bring your lighter to the first firework. Its heat licks at your skin as you release it into the air. You hit the side of its body, sending the Mind Flayer stumbling back. 

“Hey, asshole. Over here!” Steve throws a firework and its blasts almost scorches the two of you. It’s dangerous, stray fireworks threaten to crash into everyone, but the plan seems to be working. WIth every hit the Mind Flayer takes, the more he weakens. 

Your thumb burns as you light fireworks over and over again. The motion is repetitive, just enough to keep the fear in you at bay. It’s deafening within the mall. It’s exhilarating. It’s dizzying. Reds, blues, yellows, greens all light up the sky. 

Distantly, through the haze of smoke, you watch as the fireworks affect Billy as well. He cowers each time the Mind Flayer gets hit, but it also seems to enrage him as well. He grabs El’s wounded leg and drags her closer to the monster.

Helplessly you wish you were down there with El, helping her. However, all you can do is continue throwing fireworks in a crazed attempt to save the ones you love. You scream with every throw, exerting all your strength to throw them as far as you physically can. But you’re quickly running out of ammunition. 

“Dustin, we’re out of time!” Steve screams into the walkie, breath heaving with soot on his face. 

Your brother screams back, pleading with Hopper to close the gate. No one answers him, and you hold back exhausted sobs as you throw the remaining fireworks. They won’t be enough. Someone has to close the gate, sever any connection the Upside Down has to your world. It’s the only way any of you are making it out alive. 

Yet it remains open, and Billy has now crawled back on top of El. 

She seems to be saying something to him, but in the cloud of smoke and explosions you can’t be sure. Robin helps you light the last firework, Steve aims it, and you’re numb to it all. He throws it, it explodes into a shower of purple. Its ashes scatter around Billy, singes his back, and you see now that he’s stopped moving. 

“That was the last one!” Robin shouts over the screams of the fireworks. Steve runs a hand through hair and curses. There isn’t anything else the three of you can do.

You run to the railing and look around, feverish to find any way to help. Jonathan catches your eye from across the plaza. He looks just as distraught as you are. Your palm hits against the metal of the railing in frustration. There has to be something. Then you see Max and Mike below, standing on the outskirts of where Billy and El are, all alone. 

“I’m going down!” You scream to Robin and Steve. You have to get down there. Someone has to be with them. They’re too close to the fire and explosions and monsters. 

“Y/N, wait–” Steve tries to stop you, but you plead with him. 

“Steve, I need you to trust me.” There’s a raw, overwhelming feeling within you that something bad is about to happen. You can’t shake it, the feeling of loss being inevitable frightens you. For three years now you’ve saved everyone, done everything right. For three years, you’ve gotten lucky. You don’t know how to explain all of this to Steve, the fear that has followed you ever since you first intercepted the Russian code. “Please.”

Maybe it’s the way you say it. Maybe it’s the tears that stream down your face as you look at him. Whatever the reason may be, Steve reluctantly lets go of you. Endlessly thankful for him, your hands cradle his face as you kiss him. He makes a cute, surprised noise, and you wish more than anything that you can bask in the warmth of his lips, but you can’t. 

You force yourself to pull away. “I’ll be back, take care of the others.”

And then you’re gone. 

Footsteps echoing against the walls of the mall, you run down the stairs and straight towards Max and Mike. They hear you approach and suddenly they’re both in your arms. They hold onto you tightly, none of you can tear your eyes away from the scene in front of you. Billy slowly stands up and away from El. His movements are labored as he walks in front of the Mind Flayer, blocking its path to her. 

They stand, face to face, unmoving. Predator against prey. Your heart pounds in your throat as you watch, too scared to move. In an almost imperceptible velocity, the Mind Flayer extends its claws. 

Billy raises his arms, stopping the monster from piercing through El, protecting her. “No!” A guttural, animalistic scream tears apart his vocal chords. He screams, over and over again, as the Mind Flayer struggles against him. 

Max freezes in your arms, you feel her choke on her gasp. 

Everything happens slowly after that. 

The first claw that penetrates Billy’s side. 

The second one that cuts through his other side. 

Then the third one, the fourth and the fifth and the sixth. They pierce through his skin, sink into the flesh. His body goes limp as he’s suspended into the air. The Mind Flayer hisses down at him, its teeth bared, and Billy, who has never been afraid, screams in the face of death as the monster fatally punctures his chest. 

Everything stops.

“Billy!” You will never forget the pain in Max’s scream. It will become yet another sound that haunts your nightmares. 

As you stand there with a paralyzed Max in your arms, the Mind Flayer drops Billy’s body onto the ground. He lands with a sickening thud. The Mind Flayer’s body crashes into the walls, it convulses, spasms, leaving destruction in its wake. Then, all together, it stills and falls to the ground.

The gate has been closed. 

Mike tears himself from your arms and runs over to El. He pulls her into a hug and she begins to sob. You and Max walk numbly over to them, neither of your eyes leave Billy’s bleeding body. He shudders weakly where he lays, a pool of blood encasing his body. 

“Billy?” Max knees next to him. She’s crying, she doesn’t know what to do. There’s so much blood. “Billy, get up. Please, Billy. Get up, please.”

You kneel next to her, at her side through it all. 

Blood pours from Billy’s mouth. He coughs and the wet sound only makes Max cry harder. He looks up at you, his eyes are finally blue again. “Talking to you… sweetheart.”

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

Those had been your last words to him. 

“Billy…” He had tried to find you. He had been lost and scared and alone. He didn’t know what had been happening to him, why his anger became venom. A sob is wrenched from your mouth. He had been all alone, and he had tried to find you.

Billy coughs again, more blood leaks from his wounds. With the last of his strength, he turns his head to Max. “I’m sorry…” His chest heaves in pain, he labors two final breaths, before his chest falls entirely. It doesn’t rise again. 

Max shakes his shoulders, uncaring for the wounds there. She shakes him, begs and pleads with him to wake up, but his body remains lifeless. She lets out one final, anguished sob. “Billy.” 

She buries her face in your chest and sobs. You hold her, El joins. The girl tries to soothe Max, she tries to keep you together, but you break as well. 

You cry for the boy Billy had once been. Max had told you stories from before. How he would drive her to the skate park, scare off any older boy who tried to taunt her. She told you about how he used to love surfing in California, before his mom had left them and his dad became violent. 

Max told you about how kind Billy had once been, she knows he used to be kind. How she could see it in him still, hiding the bruises from his father to not scare her. To make her feel safe in their own home even if he intimidated her as well; it was the violence in him that was created by a monster far more vile than the Mind Flayer. 

You cry for Max, too young to lose such a complicated loved one. You know the pain better than anyone else. How it hurts to grieve them, how it makes you feel pathetic to miss someone who has only hurt you, but the tenderness of knowing them tethers you to it all. Billy had been her brother. There is no greater tether than that. 

You cry because you loved and have lost. You will blame yourself for having not said anything about Billy’s off behavior. You had seen the first signs of what the Mind Flayer did to him. He had been stranded on the side of the road, bloodied and bruised, blue eyes darker than normal, and you had done nothing except tell him to come find you. 

And then you had left him. 

Billy Hargrove died alone.

You and Max will share the burden of this guilt. 

– 

Jonathan finds you first, then Steve. You’re on the floor, kneeling with Max in your arms, two broken pieces finding solace in the other. Billy’s body lies next to you, neither you nor Max can bear to look at it. 

“I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’m sorry,” they’re the only words you can say to the girl. 

Max clutches your arms around her and her tears soak your shirt. El and Steve try to coax her out of your arms, but she doesn’t move. She refuses to let go of you, though she allows Jonathan to drape his arms over you and hold you as your own sobs echo within the mall. 

Nancy and the others join. They leave a wide berth around the dead body before them. Nancy sees that you’re in no condition to guide, so she takes over for you. She instructs Steve and Lucas to take Max from your arms so that they can stand the two of you up. The fire from the wreckage is quickly spreading and you’ll need to evacuate soon.

“It’s okay, bug. You’re okay.” Jonathan whispers in your ear, one hand delicate on your arm. Steve’s hands rest upon your other arm, and together the two of them are able to get you onto your feet. 

Your body shakes, grief sits heavily upon your chest. Steve’s eyes never leave your weak frame. 

It’s all a blur after that. 

Firefighters break through the mall and evacuate the building. Nancy and Jonathan do all the talking. Someone, you think it’s Steve, carefully guides you through the maze of burning rubble and bodies. It’s raining outside and the soft thunder almost drowns out the drone of the helicopters that swarm the building. 

There are ambulances amongst the military trucks and you’re shoved into one by a concerned medic. The woman explains to you that you’re in shock, that your body is in a state of perpetual flight. She allows Steve to sit and stay with you only after she’s finished patching up his split lip and bruised eye. 

“It’s going to take some time to heal,” the medic explains to you. She’s soft spoken, maternal, and in your numb state she reminds you of your mother. “You kids went through a lot tonight.”

Time. 

It always goes back to time. 

Steve rubs your back and kisses the top of your head every few minutes. You rest your head against his shoulder, body pressed against his, a blanket draped around both of your shoulders’. Neither of you say anything. His hand on your back is warm, it unthaws the ice that the shock has left behind. His touch grounds you, keeps you afloat. 

A car pulls up in the distance and its doors slam. Your eyes drift up, finding Joyce’s as she stumbles through the crowd of armed soldiers and firefighters. She stumbles around, lost in some haze that clouds her once shining face. Joyce looks around in concern, trying to find her sons, and somehow you know, even before her face crumbles when she sees you, that something terrible has happened.

Her eyes meet yours. 

Hopper isn’t with her.

Will rushes towards his mother and almost knocks her down with how hard he hugs her. Joyce clings onto him and breaks into heartwrenching, bone crushing, sobs. You can hear her from where you sit with Steve, you can feel the weight of her loss like thickened water in your lungs. 

In the other ambulance next to you, El, who had been resting in Mike’s lap, stands up when she sees Joyce. She walks towards the woman as she embraces her son. Though El faces away from you, standing alone in the middle of the parking lot, the way her shoulders shake as she begins to fall apart indicates the remnants of her childhood have died tonight.

“Hopper’s dead.” They’re the first words you’ve spoken all night. Your voice is hoarse from disuse and the words echo, taunting you. 

Steve doesn’t say anything, only a heavy sigh leaves his body. 

There were three deaths tonight. Billy, Hopper, and El’s childhood. One for every year you got lucky. The fear that had been creeping through the back of your mind finally presents itself to you. It manifests in the humid July air and it laughs at you. Saving Will, closing the gate, destroying the Mind Flayer. They were debts needed to be fulfilled, and they were paid for tonight.

You see Max and Robin sitting on a stretcher across from you. Max also hasn’t said anything all night, lost in her own grief and remorse. Joyce still sobs in Will’s arms. El grieves alone, mourning the closest thing she’s ever had to a father. 

You see Jonathan and Nancy whispering quietly to one another in another ambulance. They share a blanket like you do with Steve, but Nancy’s eyes are sunken in and Jonathan’s face is pale. Lucas and Mike sit together, too exhausted to say anything. 

You’re all bleeding or burned or bruised and you’re tired. 

“Sometimes…” Your voice cracks, tears threaten to silence you, and you force yourself to breathe in. Force yourself to focus, to get the words out. They’re important, somehow, even if you don’t know why. “Sometimes it feels like I’ve used up all my luck.”

Steve draws small circles into your ribcage. His fingers catch on the raised skin, the scar from when you saved his life last year. “Luck?”

“When Will went missing… It was pure luck that I found him. Brought him back home.” You weren’t supposed to have been with the kids when they found El. You were lucky that night, it was luck that threw you into the middle of it all. “It was luck that saved Will last year, too. Those tunnels…” Your body shivers at the memory. It had been so cold down there, the smell of the damp earth is a scent you will never forget. “And now I–”

Your words catch in your throat. Steve’s body presses against yours, he waits for you, patient. When your voice returns, you try again. “And now I… I’m not sure how I feel.”

“Why’s that, angel?” Steve listens, he tries to understand. “I mean, the Mind Flayer is gone. We won.”

You saved Hawkins. You saved El. You know this, and it should be enough, but it isn’t. “All the deaths that took place tonight stain everything.”

El’s father is dead. Joyce had come so close to loving again. Max no longer has someone to call a brother. Billy, who endured so much hurt when he was a child, never got the chance to experience kindness when he grew up. 

Billy never got the chance to become good, not like you did. You were lucky to have even become kind again in the first place. It had taken years to turn the hurt from your childhood into empathy. You had a mother who called you her sweet girl even when you screamed horrible insults at her. You had a brother who held your hand through the anger that your father left behind. You had a best friend who taught you that not everyone leaves. There had been people who loved you, who were gentle, who showed you that anger can be turned into something soft. 

But all Billy ever knew in his life was violence and cruelty. It isn’t fair. 

“My entire life I’ve been lucky,” your chest constricts as you confess everything to Steve. All your fear, the doubt, the insecurity. “Now it–it feels like I’ve used up all my luck.” Your fingers find Steve’s, a mind of their own as your body seeks the solace only he can bring. He doesn’t know that he’s the reason you believe you’ve had more luck than anyone else in their life. “I… I was lucky to have met you, to become your friend, someone you trust. How could I possibly have any luck left over after everything we’ve been through together?”

Everything burns in Steve. He understands what you’re trying to say, he does, but he doesn’t agree. Steve hooks the pad of his fingertip underneath your chin and coaxes your head up, he wants you to look at him as he speaks. He needs you to hear him. To understand. “Well, that’s where you’re wrong.”

You wipe your eyes, uncomfortable under Steve’s open and earnest gaze. “I’m wrong?”

He hums, strokes a finger from the dip of your cheek up to the crest of your brow. He admires you, memorizes the skin beneath his. “You’ve taught me a lot of things, but you’re wrong about that luck theory of yours. See, I have my own theory that you can never run out of luck if you love, and you taught me that to love and be loved is the luckiest thing a person can give and receive.”

Steve remembers the first day he ever saw you. He’d been thirteen, you had been twelve. He remembers how small you looked to him, yet lovely nonetheless, even back then. You had always been so lovely to Steve, kind, delicate, admirable. 

Your eyes stare into Steve’s and he remembers the first day he spoke to you. The squeal of your bike tires as you almost crashed into his car. The way the setting sun cast you in a golden glow in the ditch you landed in as Steve offered you his hand. How, the moment you laughed at what he said, he felt breathless. 

You smile at Steve now, the same smile all those years ago, the smile he saw when he was thirteen and believed in knights and dragons. Now, at eighteen, you smile at Steve and he believes in fates that attach people to one another and mold them into one being. 

“And I’m lucky enough to be able to love you, angel.” 

Steve’s words cut through you. They’re the good that remind you of the light of the sun that follows the dark of the night. It’s almost like an awakening, a slow remembering, how can someone run out of luck if they love with everything within them?

You see Mike now consoling El. She’s in pain, but Mike bears the hurt with her. You see Jonathan and Nancy sleep soundly against each other, safe in the other’s arms. Lucas holds Max’s hand as Robin cracks a joke that gets the young girl to laugh. Will strokes his fingers through his mother’s hair, offering her love that only a son can. 

Even while there is so much grief and pain within this world, the love that follows overwhelms it.

Steve stares down at you, eyes soft with contentedness. There isn’t a pressure behind them, he doesn’t need you to say anything to him. He’s simply happy to have you in his arms, to have you with him now, to remind him of how lucky he is, and you’re so full of love for him. 

“I’m lucky enough to be able to love you, too, sweet honey.”

Steve Harrington smiles the boyish smile that you fell for long before you knew what love even was, and he kisses you. He breathes you in, he has you right where he wants you. 

You finally, finally, have come home. 

– 

Time passes slowly afterwards; you take it one day at a time. 

After the mall burns down, your job is practically all but saved. It’s a small, bittersweet thing. Mrs. Waters had told you the news with her own bittersweet smile, mourning her dear friend Mrs. Driscoll who died in the fire. She will never know the truth, that the woman had become part of an army created by a monster. 

“But at least Doris would be happy that I still have my store,” the woman said as she stacked books with you at the counter. It had only taken you two days before finding yourself falling back into old habits. Your mother had wanted you to stay home for the rest of the summer, but Bookstrordinary has always been a second home to you, and you couldn’t bear the silence in the house. Mrs. Waters sighed sadly, looking down. “I miss her.”

“I’m sorry, Mrs. Waters.” You squeezed her hand, mourned with her.

Hopper’s funeral took place a week after Starcourt burned down. The entire town showed up, something that you know the old man would’ve hated, and he was crowned Hawkins’ hero. You spent the ceremony in the very back, holding El’s hand, so that the two of you wouldn’t be seen.

Billy’s funeral was a few days after Hopper’s. Max sat alone at the front of the church, Billy’s father had been too drunk to attend and her mother couldn’t get the time off of work. After the ceremony, the girl silently followed you into your car and spent the rest of the day at Bookstrordinary with you. She hadn’t wanted to go home to an empty house, and you understood the feeling. 

Max spends most of her summer with you at the store after that. Some days she helps restock the shelves, singing along to your set of tapes, bright and cheery. But some days she’s quiet, sits in a corner and pretends to read whatever you hand her. El stops by the store sometimes, too. You read comics to her, bake her the oatmeal raisin cookies she loves so much, and gossip about Mike and Lucas if Max is having one of her good days. 

During the first week you bake Joyce’s favorite muffins, the second week you bake her brownies. You offer her a shoulder to cry on every time you stop by the Byers home, you reminisce over Hopper and his disdain for you; she appreciates everything you do. 

Steve spends every single day with you, it doesn’t matter where you are. Without a job, he follows you everywhere. Whether you’re at work, at home, even at Jonathan’s or Nancy’s, he’s always able to find you with Robin right behind him. Nancy thinks the newfound trio is bizarre, but Jonathan can’t help but laugh whenever he sees Robin talking your ear off while Steve follows you around like a moth to a flame.

Together, you all try to heal.

Two weeks pass and you’re woken up by the ringing of your phone. 

“Hello?” Annoyance seeps through your greeting. You’ve only just managed to fall asleep, the nightmares at bay for once. 

“Come outside, angel.”

His voice wakes you up, the annoyance now replaced with confusion. “Steve?”

“Wear something warm, okay?”

“What–?” He hangs up, the line disconnects, and you’re completely taken aback by the phone call. You didn’t make any plans with Steve tonight, at least not any that you can recall. He had spent the day with you at work, ate dinner with you and your family, before watching a movie with Dustin and going home. 

You’re not entirely sure why he’s called you at nearly two in the morning to come outside, but you listen anyways. On your desk chair lays the cardigan Steve bought you for Christmas, his initials stitched into the sleeve. Sliding it over your shoulders, you quickly put it on before climbing through your window.

Steve’s car is parked two houses from yours, headlights off. There’s music faintly playing that can be heard through the window, and a familiar melody has you running to get inside. “The Beatles?”

They were the band that you and your dad used to listen to. His fingers would strum their songs on his guitar as the two of you sat side by side on the front porch of your childhood home. He would hum the words to you. Told you that you should know about real music. 

When your dad left, he took the music with him.

Jonathan had tried to get you into his favorite artists. The Smiths, David Bowie, the Clash. He would sit you down in his room and play their songs over his record player and watch your reactions. While the music was good, and you’ve come to love them because the artists reminded you of Jonathan, it was never the same as listening to the Beatles with your dad during early July mornings. 

Then one night, when you and Steve had been driving around Hawkins, a Beatles song began to play over the radio. Unknowing of your history with the band, Steve started to hum along the same way your dad would do, and it was finally then that music was brought back into your life.

“What, I don’t get a hello?” Steve is smiling ear to ear, seeing the flushed joy on your face and the cardigan you wear. 

You throw your body over the center console and hug him. “Hi, honey.”

As he drives, Steve is unusually quiet. His initial smug greeting upon your arrival is quickly overshadowed by a shy demeanor. Steve’s fingers fidget on the steering wheel, his foot taps against the car’s floor. The Beatles play softly within the car and somewhere along the route you find that the wooded scenery starts to look familiar.

He’s driving you to Lover’s Lake.

“Why are we heading towards the lake?” You ask Steve, but he pretends not to hear you. Instead, he turns the radio up and sings along to Paul McCartney. Your eyes wander to the backseat and notice a small box nestled against the leather. 

A few minutes later Steve parks the car and wordlessly the two of you get out. It’s dark, the moon reflects off the lake’s water. Crickets sing in the air and the waves lap at the shore. It’s a beautiful night, the July heat is masked by the night’s breeze; your cardigan keeps you warm. 

Lost in admiring the view, you don’t notice that Steve has left your side until he returns with a picnic basket. The box you saw earlier is tucked underneath his arm. You tilt your head at him, quizzically. “What are you planning, Harrington?”

Steve grabs your hand. “You’ll see.”

He leads you down to the lake’s edge where the water meets the sand. There’s a trail that Steve once found when he was nine. It had been during the last fishing trip he had ever taken with his dad. The man commanded him to hook the worm and Steve cried. Embarrassed and ashamed, Steve had run towards where the sand met the woods and found a meadow hidden within it. 

There are flowers in full bloom within the meadow, and you gasp when you see their vibrant pinks and blues. The flowers are delicate yet their stems are long. Steve sets the picnic basket down and pulls a blanket out from it. He sets it onto the grass and lays down, motioning you to join him. 

The stars are clear tonight, shining bright above the two of you. They almost seem to wink at you as you lay side by side with Steve. His hand is in yours, as it always is these days, and with only the stars as his witness, Steve whispers into your ear, “Thank you for staying.”

His breath warms your neck, and you know, without having to ask, what he’s thanking you for. Your promise to him last year, that you’d wait for him. He hadn’t been ready. The timing of it all wouldn’t have been right, but you knew, even back then, that you’d wait forever for Steve Harrington if it meant you’d receive even half of his love. 

Take your time, I’ll be here. 

“It was the easiest thing I’ve ever done.” The words come easily to you, raw with truth and vulnerability. 

A soft sigh escapes Steve. He turns his head to you, eyes finding yours, and you’ve never seen such tenderness within him. He opens his mouth, sighs out the words you’ve longed to hear again since that night at Starcourt. “I love you.”

“I love you, too.” You don’t think you’ll ever tire of saying those three words to him. There’s so much love within you, so much you’ve ached to give out ever since you were a little girl, and now you finally can. 

Steve kisses you with a softness that releases a sigh from your own lips, and you know he’s wholly, truly, yours now. With a swift motion, Steve places himself on top of you as you kiss. His weight presses down on you, one hand cups your cheek and the other steadies him. His hair tickles your face, his cologne clouds your brain, and the sweet taste of July honey coats your tongue. 

Minutes, maybe even hours, pass as you kiss Steve. It’s lazy, no sense of urgency as your lips move against his. It’s warm, it’s soft. Eventually he manages to pull himself away from you, he’s brought you here for other reasons tonight. 

“Hold on, I got you something.” Steve fixes his hair, clears his throat, and pulls out a container from the basket. He reveals a freshly baked loaf of banana bread on a beautiful glass plate. There’s a small, lopsided candle on top of it.

“You came prepared tonight,” you tease him, still breathless from the kisses and love.

“My mom did, actually. She’s the one who made this.” You sit up and look at Steve, wide eyed. He laughs at you, finding your stunned reaction endearing. “Relax, angel. She really wanted to bake you something, and I had to make up for allowing Russians to ruin your seventeenth birthday, didn’t I?” 

Words escape you. Steve’s mom made you banana bread, a woman you have still yet to meet, though you’ve only heard fond stories about. She had insisted on doing this kind thing for you. 

Steve lights the candle and holds the plate up for you. “C’mon, make a wish, Y/N.”

You close your eyes, smiling, and the wish comes easily to you.

For time to stay like this, forever.

You blow the candle out, Steve cuts the banana bread, and you take turns feeding it to one another. The dessert is delicious, freshly baked and still warm. It’s sweet and nostalgic and everything you could ever ask for. 

When you’ve finished eating, Steve claps his hands. “Alright, now onto the real event of the night!” 

You raise an eyebrow. “What, the kissing wasn’t enough?” Steve makes a panicked noise and you laugh at him. “I was teasing, honey.”

“You terrify me,” he huffs, before revealing a box from behind him, the very same one you’ve been curious about all night. 

“I aspire to be terrifying,” you stick your tongue out at Steve before turning the box over in your hands. It’s light, lighter than you expected. “Is this my gift you’ve been bragging about?” For months leading up to your birthday, Steve had been boasting about this amazing gift he had thought of, how he had convinced the party to help him. 

“Open it and find out.” There’s a glint in Steve’s eyes, yet you also see the shyness return as well. He’s nervous to see your reaction, he wants more than anything to have gotten this right. 

You roll your eyes at him but open the box. It isn’t wrapped like your other gifts from Steve have been. Instead the box is made of a dark oak, and its lid opens with a soft click. The silver catches your attention first. It’s a small chain with two silver ovals on opposite sides. In between the two ovals is a collection of charms. 

“Is this…?” The charms are all roughly the same size, but each vastly different from the other. 

Steve nods at you, rubs the back of his neck. “It’s a charm bracelet.” 

Moonlight reflects off of one of the charms, revealing it to be a frog, another one to be a cookie, and slowly you piece it together. There’s six charms, one for each member of the party. “Steve.”

“Have you figured it out–oomph!” He lands with a thud on his back as you attack him with a hug. Slightly out of breath, he laughs and wraps his arms around you. “I’ll take that as a yes, then.”

“How did you get the kids to do this?” You lay on top of him, blinking back tears as you hold the  bracelet delicately in your hands to admire it. 

Steve sighs in exasperation. “Money and a lot of begging. They were all for picking out charms for you, I just had to pay them to spend more than five minutes with me at the jewelry store.”

You laugh, that sounds exactly like them, and you love those kids with everything within you. Holding up the frog pendant, you know which kid picked it out for you. “Mike?”

“Yup. Said something about Kermit the frog?”

“He’s such a little shit,” you say with fondness. Last year, when Billy had nearly choked you to death, your voice had been lost and Mike wouldn’t stop referring to you as Kermit. Your fingers skim over the pendant next to it, a simple blue one, and you smile. “Dustin?”

“He told me about your code blues.” Steve rubs your back, content to have you resting against him. You hum, touched that your brother trusted Steve enough to confide this to. No one else knows about your code blues, it’d been a special thing just between the two of you. 

With your ear pressed against his chest, listening to his heartbeat, Steve explains the rest of the charms to you. His voice is lazy, slow, lilting with fondness, and his hand a firm weight against your back. Max chose a knife charm to remind you of how badass you are. Will chose a bee, because he’ll always be your little bee. Lucas was able to find a small, white flower that resembles a dogwood, knowing that it’s your favorite. As for El, she chose a cookie based solely on her love for the ones you bake for her. 

“What about the ovals?” You ask Steve after he’s done explaining what the kids chose for you. The ovals are slightly larger than the charms, almost serving as a divider between them. The metal is smooth underneath your fingers. 

He brushes hair out of your face and winks. “Turn them over.”

With slight confusion, you do, and discover that they’re engraved. Etched onto the back of one oval is honey, and, on the other, angel is written. They’re your names for one another, nestled between charms from the kids you love so dearly in your life; this is a gift made from pure, unadulterated love. 

“Oh my god,” it’s perfect, absolutely perfect. Your lips are all over Steve’s face before he even has time to blink. You scatter millions of kisses upon his face, drown him in them, With every kiss that you press upon his pretty skin, you shower him with praise. “Thank you, thank you, thank you!” 

Steve laughs and tries to move his face away, but really he leans into the onslaught of love. His cheeks burn from smiling so hard and from the heat you always make him feel. He grabs your waist and enjoys the skin he holds. “You like it?”

“I love it, Steve!” 

“Does this make up for the whole Russian fiasco?” He asks, only joking a little bit. He still feels awful for dragging you into everything, but with time he’s learning to forgive himself. Before he overthinks it, Steve adds, “Am I now the best boyfriend in the world?”

His words make you blush, and you don’t think you’ll ever get used to Steve being yours. You’ve waited so long to be his, to hold him and kiss him like you do now. You cherish the feeling, the sensation of knowing a boy loves you the way that Steve does. “You’ve definitely redeemed yourself for getting me trapped in a Russian lair on my birthday. And you’re definitely the best boyfriend in the world.”

Steve, despite being underneath you, does a victory dance and whoops into the night. He’s elated, his face shines when you look down at him, and you’ve never been so in love before. You once thought you knew what love was, what the burn of it could feel like. But now, with Steve lying beneath you as his arms keep you from falling, you know that love is airless, light, cool to the touch and warm on the skin. Love isn’t supposed to hurt, it’s supposed to feel like coming home after a long day of being out in the cold. 

After Steve helps you put on the charm bracelet, you lay together in the meadow. The lake’s waves can be heard in the distance. Crickets chirp their greeting, the stars wink hello above you. Their noises serve as a lullaby to you, soothing you to an almost sleep-like state. You nestle your head into the crook of Steve’s neck and let out a sleepy exhale. 

Feeling this, Steve strokes the back of your hair. “You fallin’ asleep on me, Henderson?”

“I’m resting my eyes.” 

“Very convincing,” he chuckles, tightening his embrace to try and stave off the cold that creeps in. He lets out his own tired sigh, your weight upon him has always put him at ease. He inhales, smells your perfume, and he can’t believe that he’s here right now with you. After everything he’s been through, he can’t believe that somehow he’s come out of it with you next to him. Last year he thought he had lost you forever. This year he can see forever with you. “I think I like this July a whole lot better than the last one.”

It’s meant to be a joke, a gentle tease. More of a reflection of how far the two of you have come in such a short amount of time, but still Steve’s words remind you of something. You’ve never told him the real reason why you left last summer. Why you ran away from him. 

“I was scared, last summer.” 

Steve tilts his head at you. “Scared of what?”

“I was scared of falling in love with you,” the confession lifts from your chest. It hangs over you both, the weight of it tangible. Steve’s eyes soften, he lets out a soft oh, and you duck your head shyly. “Last July, you were… Everything. You were everything to me, and it terrified me. I was still figuring my feelings out for Jonathan back then, you had Nancy, but you were so lovely and I just–I couldn’t do it. It wouldn’t have been fair, not to anyone, but I’m sorry.”

“Y/N…” Steve hadn’t known. All this time, he thought he had done something wrong. But really you had been trying to protect yourself, protect him, and he understands now why you had to leave him for a while. He sees the distress on your face and he shushes you, kisses your forehead. “Don’t apologize, okay? I honestly would’ve run away too, if I were you. I’m just… You came back to me, in the end. That’s all I care about.”

He’s too good for you. “I still hurt you.”

“You’re human,” Steve brushes more hair out of your face. “We all make mistakes. You ditched me for a few months and I almost got you killed by crazy Russians. I think we’re pretty even now.”

Despite the guilt in your throat, Steve manages to draw a smile from you. It’s what he’s always done best. Even on the day Will had gone missing, he had been the one to ease the loss by pretending not to have known your name. He had made you laugh when you thought you could never laugh again. Steve would do anything to get you to smile, and you cannot imagine where you’d be without him. “We always even our debts, huh?”

“It’s tradition at this point.”

And you laugh, full-bellied and loud and recklessly. It echoes into the night, Steve’s reverberates into your ears, and you’re happy. 

– 

A month passes, and in the mid-August heat, Jonathan knocks on your window late one night. 

His knuckles rap against the glass and it’s a sound reminiscent of before, when you were little kids who didn’t know how yet to hurt each other. You crawl out of your bed, curious, though happy nonetheless to let him in. 

You go to open your curtain, ready to tell the boy all about what Dustin had done today, unaware that when you open the curtain, everything will change. 

Jonathan is crying. 

“Bee, oh my God.” You quickly open the window and he manages to crawl through, though sobs wrack his body. He’s shaking, and for a terrifying moment you think that something has happened to Will. “Is everything okay?”

He stands before you, chest heaving and eyes red, and with two words your world comes crashing down. “We’re moving.”

Time stands still. You’re seventeen and your childhood is coming to a close.

Somehow you’re holding onto Jonathan as he explains everything through his tears. He’s moving in early September, going all the way to California. He and his family are leaving Hawkins, leaving you. 

Your legs give out, or maybe it’s Jonathan’s, but you hold each other on the floor, intertwined, mourning the loss of growing up together. Your tears mix with his, his breathing becomes yours. The two of you cling onto each other, scared that one day soon you’ll never be able to do this again. 

“We need to–” Your breathing is shaky, your eyes sting. You feel a desperate franticness claw out of you, you grasp at what little sanity you have left. “We need to promise each other that–that we’ll see each other every day before you leave, in some capacity. It–it doesn’t matter how but–”

“I’ve already talked to Nancy about it, bug.” Jonathan wipes your tears, lets his own fall freely. He knew you’d say this, and he loves you all the more for it. “It’s been agreed.”

You nod, relieved. It isn’t much, it still doesn’t change the fact that Jonathan will leave you in the end, but at least you’ll make every last second with him count. You’ll move into the Byers home if you have to, they’re your family. He’s your person. He’s embedded into your skin, he’s nestled between your bones. 

Last year you and Jonathan promised you would never let go of each other. 

The year prior to that you promised each other that nothing would change between you two. 

Now, holding onto each other as the world you’ve been building together for five years comes crumbling down, you have to believe that the promises will be enough.

–

Steve and Robin rope you into helping them find a new job.

You innocently pointed out that Family Video was hiring, figuring it was an easy enough place to work at, and suddenly the two of them had shoved you into Steve’s car with resumes in their hands. Honestly, you should’ve seen it coming. 

“You put your mom down as a reference?” Robin questions Steve as you all get out of the car. She had agreed to proofread it after you politely declined, stating that if you proofread anything Steve wrote, it might ruin your relationship. 

“Yeah, why not?” Steve slams his door, straightens his shirt, and grabs your hand as you walk inside. “She’s like, super well respected.”

You share a look with Robin. “Rich kids,” you both groan at the same time. As much as you love Steve, you’ll neve quite get over how well connected he is. It’s bizarre and slightly terrifying how much the Harrington name can get you in this town.

“Whatever, call me a rich kid, but it’s my car you guys get free rides in.”

Robin rolls her eyes. “You’re such a dingus.”

“I didn’t ask to be here,” you remind Steve, though you thank him when he holds the store’s door open for you and Robin. “I think this could count as kidnapping.”

Robin bumps her hips against yours. “Not technically. Besides, I thought we agreed to leave our kidnapping days behind us after Erica?”

You shove the teen and follow her into the store. You look around at all the movies, slightly impressed. You’ve never really visited Family Video before, only really stopping by if you were picking up Dustin from the arcade next door. The store is nice, albeit small, but you can see Steve and Robin enjoying themselves. There’s good music, few customers, and the uniformed vest is less mortifying than Scoop’s small shorts and sailor hats. “It’s not so bad in here.”

“Why thank you, pretty lady.” A greasy looking man at the register smiles at you, leaning over it in a very unappealing manner. His name tag informs you that his name is Keith.

Steve immediately steps in front of you and stares the guy down. “She doesn’t need you thanking her, buddy.”

You can tell that he wants to say more, but you see the “general manager” on Keith’s name tag and quickly try to deescalate the situation. If your idiot boyfriend wants the job, he can’t piss off the guy hiring. “Steve, why don’t we take a look around while Robin does all the talking?”

“What–” He doesn’t have a chance to argue, you’re already pulling him down a random aisle, throwing a quick “good luck!” to Robin as you leave. 

She talks with Keith, and it seems to be going well. She shows him their resumes, smiles at him kindly. before she shouts across the store to Steve. “Dingus, what are your three favorite movies?”

Steve nearly drops the movie he had been looking at. “Uh, Animal House?” You can practically hear Robin’s disappointed sigh from where you stand, and Keith looks unimpressed. Panicked, Steve whispers to you, “What are my favorite movies?”

“I don’t know!” You hiss, frantically trying to get this poor man a job. “Just, name two other movies. Animal House can’t be too bad, right?”

“Star Wars,” Steve manages to get out, now walking back to the register. You stand next to him, looking nervously at Robin, who makes a pained noise at his responses. 

The manager stares blankly at him. “A New Hope?”

“A new what now?”

You drop your head into your hands and sigh. He’s hopeless. Already knowing it’s a lost cause, you mumble to him, “It’s a Star Wars movie, Steve.”

He snaps his fingers. “Right! Yeah, it’s the one with the teddy bears, isn’t it?” Steve makes what you think is supposed to be an Ewok sound, which only makes you sigh again. Sensing he’s fucked up, Steve tries to backtrack. “No? Uh… Oh! The one that just came out, the movie. The one with DeLorean and Alex P. Keaton and he’s trying to bang his mom.”

“Oh, dear.” It’s a trainwreck, one you can’t look away from, and Robin can only shake her head at you. “Steve?”

“Yeah?” 

“Stop talking.”

“Uh, yeah.” Steve clears his throat, he knows he’s rambling. Had he known he would have a goddamn pop quiz about movies, he wouldn’t have dragged you here for the interview. “Those are my top three. Classics.”

Keith looks between you, Steve, and Robin. He points to Robin first, “You start Monday.” He points to Steve, “You start never.” And then he points to you, “You can start whenever.”

“Okay, I get why you’re telling me no,” Steve waves a hand in front of you, “but she didn’t even apply!” 

You’re also confused by how this day is turning out, and you look at Robin, wide eyed and pleading. She’s good with people, Keith seems to like her. When she sees you silently begging her to fix this, Robin sighs and steps in front of Steve. “Will you just, um… Will you guys give us a minute?” 

“Why?” Steve doesn’t move, and you want to throw a shoe at him. 

“Let’s go, pretty boy.” You grab the back of his shirt and yank him back to the aisle of movies. He doesn’t fight you, he simply accepts his fate and allows you to drag him away. Before turning the corner, you nod at Keith. “Thanks for the job offer, but you should really give it to the guy I’m currently dragging.”

Robin snickers at Steve’s offended huff as the two of you leave, before she starts trying to convince the manager to let Steve work there. From where you stand, it seems like a heated discussion. You try to lean closer, nosey, and while you’re distracted, Steve runs into a life-sized cardboard cutout of Phoebe Cates wearing a red bikini. 

He fights with it, tries desperately not to let it fall, all while his resume hangs from his mouth. “Shit! Oh, Fast Times! Ever heard of it? Top three for me, Keith.” Robin laughs and Steve turns the cardboard cutout to you, wiggling his eyebrows. “Own any red bikinis?”

You flick his forehead, though you laugh as well. “In your dreams.”

“I can sleep right now and find out–”

“I will flick you again.”

“A kiss is preferred, but whatever.”

– 

When the Byers move, you spend the entire day fighting back tears as you help them pack. 

You spent the night in Jonathan’s room, both of you dreading the morning to come. Neither of you had slept, instead spending the entire night taking turns sharing your favorite memories together. The day you met. The time a dog chased you. When Jonathan mistook your sweater for his and wore it to school. Late night drives. Movie nights with your brothers. You relive it all that night. 

As the morning sunlight began to stream into Jonathan’s room, the warmth the memories brought started to fade away. Slowly, as the sun rose, you and Jonathan packed his room. You helped him organize his vinyls, sort through his mixtapes. When he isn’t looking, you steal a few t-shirts and flannels from his closet. He won’t notice they’re gone until he’s halfway to California. 

When it gets too much, seeing all of Jonathan’s life dwindling down to only a few boxes, you wander into the living room and help Joyce pack as well. She sees the tears in your eyes and gives you things to do, but eventually you can’t take it anymore. You go into Will’s room, and it’s the same. You cry, he cries with you, and it’s bittersweet. The rooms empty, the boxes grow.

El’s room is the hardest to pack, she has so few items to call her own, and you’re both silent as you move through the room together. 

With each box that you tape full of things you grew up with, you feel a piece of your childhood being packed away as well. The plates you used to eat off of, the books you used to bring from your job, the toys you passed down to Will. It’s all there, pieces of you frozen in time.

As you tape a box labeled “games” in Jonathan’s messy handwriting, you hear Max and Lucas singing in the living room. The sound makes you smile. It’s one of Max’s better days, she’s teasing Dustin for singing with Suzie, and she’s in a good mood. The rest of the party keeps her occupied. The kids all arrived as early as Joyce allowed them to, Nancy and Mike were the first to knock on the door. 

You place the box next to the others and walk towards Jonathan’s room. He’s leaning against its door frame with Nancy beside him, and you join them. You stare at the empty room, the one you’ve called your second home ever since you were twelve. It hurts, seeing it stripped of everything. 

All of Jonathan’s boxes are in the living room, filled with the things that make him who he is. There’s a drawer in your room of things Jonathan has left over the years, and you’re never giving them back. They’re all you have left of him. 

You and Jonathan take in his barren room, and you sigh against the door frame. “It’s so… empty.”

Nancy crosses her arms. “Is that everything?”

“I guess so,” Jonathan stuffs his hands in his pockets. His room feels cold somehow, its emptiness devoids it of the warmth it once had. He can still hear your laughs echoing in the floorboards, he can still smell your perfume that clings onto the walls. There’s scuff on the closet door from the time the two of you thought it’d be a good idea to play blind-folded baseball in the small room. 

Jonathan steps into his room, taking it all one last time. The sunlight from his window illuminates his silhouette, making him appear even smaller within the room. “Seventeen years of my life… packed up in one day.”

His voice is melancholic, his body is sad. You nudge Nancy, nod your head in Jonathan’s direction, urging her to go after him. She nods, understands that you’re telling her to say goodbye, giving them the space to do so. She smiles at you appreciatively.

You do it because they love each other, but selfishly a part of you leaves because you can’t say goodbye just yet. 

“Thank you,” she whispers, following after Jonathan. 

You find El as she’s leaving Joyce’s room. She’s holding a piece of paper, clutched closely to her chest. There are tears in her eyes, though you know better than to ask why. It’s a sad day for everyone, you’ll let her grieve on her own. However, that doesn’t stop you from pulling the girl into a fierce hug. 

“I’ll miss you so much, sweetheart.” You mumble, kissing the top of her head. “I don’t know who’s going to paint my nails now.”

El laughs through her tears and holds you tight. “I can ask Mike to.”

You kiss her head again, close your eyes, and pray to whoever is above that this girl will stay who she is forever. That she will never change. Her kindness is genuine, her joy is admirable. All her life she only knew cruelty, and yet she still came out of it so full of love. “I’d love to hear how that goes.”

“I will write you,” El promises, and you nod eagerly at her. She pulls you in for one last hug before finally releasing you to go see Joyce. 

The woman greets you with a tired smile when you walk into her room. She’s kneeling on the floor, folding clothes. They’re baggier than what she normally wears, darker, and you finally realize that they’re Hopper’s. 

A lump forms in your throat. She shouldn’t be doing this alone, packing away the remnants of his life. “Here, let me help.”

Joyce accepts, and together you sit in comfortable silence as you go through the clothes Hopper left behind. They still smell like him, old cigarettes and whiskey. It’s a nostalgic scene, a part of you wishes you could keep one of his shirts. He had been dear to you, regardless of the constant bickering you faced with him. 

“I don’t blame you, you know.” Joyce speaks softly next to you, catching your attention. “At all.”

You look up at her, sucking in a breath. “I don’t… I don’t know what you mean, Mrs. Byers.”

“The guilt, honey.” She places a hand on your arm, gentle as she always is with you. “I know you blame yourself for what happened to Will, but you shouldn’t. You have to let go of it. I want…” Joyce pauses, looks into your eyes the way a mother does to her daughter. “I want you to promise me that you’ll live the life that you deserve, because you’ve spent half of your life making sure my boys lived the lives that they deserved. Can you do that for me?”

“I…” You’re crying, you don’t know what to say. For years you’ve carried the guilt of Will’s disappearance, and for even longer you’ve done everything you could to ensure that he was loved. That Jonathan was loved. Never once had it felt like a burden to you, but Joyce’s words undoes something in you. “I promise.”

Joyce pulls you into her arms and hugs you, tears in her own eyes. She strokes your hair, hugs you as she’s always done since you were a little girl. She echoes the final words that Hopper told you. “You’re the best of them.”

You’re not sure how long you cry in Joyce’s arms, but when she soothes you and wipes your tears away, she tells you to go find Will. They’re leaving soon, he’ll want to see you, and you wish the woman one final goodbye before going to find her son. 

Will ends up being in the hallway, you find him just after he’s said goodbye to Mike. You note the longing in his eyes, the uncertainty in his posture as his friend leaves. There’s a wistful look on his face, one that you once had on your own when Jonathan was around. Even if Will may not know yet, you do. 

“Hey, little bee.”

He turns around, the softness in his eyes when he sees you makes you homesick. “Y/N!”

Will buries his face in your chest, and you hug him just as tightly back. He’s grown so much since you first met him. He’s no longer the shy little boy who had been afraid of his own shadow, and you can’t believe you won’t get to finish watching him grow up. “I swear, you’re going to be taller than me next time I see you. Won’t be able to call you little bee anymore.”

“I’ll always be your little bee,” Will squeezes you tighter, afraid to let go of you. 

“Good,” you ruffle his hair, making him to laugh. “I’ll miss you, but I’m sure you already know that.”

“I’ll miss you, too.” Will’s voice is wet, more tears come. He pulls away from you, he looks as if he wants to say something, but he stops himself. As if he’s afraid of something.

You frown. “Hey, what is it?”

“I’m scared,” The words rush from his mouth. “What if… What if I don’t make any friends?” He lowers his voice, looks around nervously, before trusting to say the words out loud to you. “I–I’m different, Y/N.”

Will’s fear hurts you to see, you wish you could do more, promise him that it will all be okay, but you can’t. Instead, all you can do is kiss his cheek and hope he can feel all the love you have for him within it. All you can do is remind him that you will love him through it all. “You’re the bravest kid I know. I have no doubt that you’ll be fine. I mean, you’ll have Jonathan and El with you, but if you ever need me, I’m just a phone call away. I love you, and that will never change.”

You stroke the boy’s cheek with your finger, and he leans into the gentle touch. “I’m rooting for you, always.”

Will squeezes you tight when he hugs you for the last time. He thanks you, his body relaxes into yours, and you know that in the end he’ll be okay. He’s a brilliant kid, he’s been through more than anyone else his age ever has. He’s resilient, his kindness is his strength, you just hope that he can recognize that himself one day. 

As you pull away from the hug, Will’s eyes catch on someone, you turn around. It’s Jonathan, standing by the front door, waiting for you. 

It’s time to say goodbye. 

Taking a deep breath, you walk towards him, and Jonathan takes your hand and guides you to the porch outside. Everyone else is still inside, packing. You sit side by side in silence, absorbing the final remaining moments alone with each other. Saying goodbye to your childhood best friend leaves a bitter taste in your mouth. 

A ladybug crawls on a leaf next to you, a bee flies past you and lands on a sunflower nearby, and a bird chirps in the blue sky above. You rest your head on Jonathan’s shoulder, he presses a kiss to your temple. Your fingers interlock and the cool September air surrounds you.

“I made you something,” Jonathan breathes out, clears his throat. He reaches into his back pocket and pulls out a mixtape, its front covered with a piece of paper listing all the songs on it. “I, uh, used the money I won from the betting pool to make it. Dustin was pretty annoyed with me for winning.”

You snort at the image of your brother berating your friend for winning a betting pool about how long it’d take Steve to ask you out. Taking the mixtape from Jonathan, you read the songs. There’s eight songs on it, the first one being a Beatles song from your childhood; you don’t know how Jonathan knew that. Though most of them are familiar, the writing on the paper is old, faded with age. “How long have you been making this, bee?”

Jonathan looks away from you and swallows. “A while, I guess. Listen to it after I leave, okay? That way, if you hate it, I’ll never have to know.” His demeanor is odd, there’s something he’s not telling you, but it’s your last day with him. You leave it alone for now, not wanting to ruin it. 

“You’re not allowed to find a new best friend.” You tell him instead, the silence becoming too much to bear. It’s a joke, though truthfully you don’t want Jonathan to find another best friend. He’s supposed to be yours, only yours, and you’re supposed to be his. 

“I wouldn’t dream of it.” Jonathan lets out a soft laugh, and you’re going to miss feeling the way his body moves as he does so. He sucks in a breath, releases it slowly, and shakes his head. “I mean, we were kids together, bug.”

You start to cry, and he does as well. You’ve never had to say goodbye to each other before. Not like this. The two of you sit on the porch of Jonathan’s childhood home and cry. You cry into his neck, he buries his face into your hair, and it’s all so unfair. 

Jonathan touches his forehead to yours. You look into his eyes and know that your childhood will always live within him, and his within you. Jonathan brings his finger up to your bee necklace, his ladybug ring knocks against the pendant. The jewelry glistens in the sunlight. 

“Bee, we were more than just kids together.”

And it’s true. You were everything together. Now, you have to figure out how to be everything while apart. 

– 

The last of the boxes are placed in the moving van. Everyone is crying, you’re all gathered around one another, hugging and saying goodbye. 

You hold El tight and whisper good luck to her. You remind Will that everything will be okay, knowing how scared he’s been of high school and remorseful that he has to do it all alone. The kids all cry as they share the final hugs, Jonathan and Nancy cry as they hold one another. Everyone says goodbye, and you watch them with tears in your eyes. You turn to Joyce to kiss her cheek, but she grabs your arm instead. 

“Remember what you promised me, okay?” She catches your eye, makes sure you hear what she’s telling you. “Live the life that you deserve.”

“I will,” you exhale, and she seems content with that. Joyce hugs you, kisses your cheek, and you tell her to drive safe as she gets into the van. 

Jonathan stands by his car, waiting for you, and you pull the boy into your arms. He crashes against you, clutches you to his chest, and you breathe him in one final time. “I’ll always love you the most, bee.”

“And I’ll always love you the most, bug.” 

Joyce drives away first, El in the van with her, before Jonathan and Will follow. The car pulls out of its driveway one final time, and you hold Nancy’s hand as you both cry. Slowly, their cars fade into the distance, and one by one the kids hop on their bikes and pedal away. No one wants to stay, the empty house feels too permanent, solemn. Eventually Nancy gets into her own car, wishing you a quiet goodbye, until it’s just you and your brother standing in front of the house. 

Dustin stays beside you, as he always does, and you take a deep breath. Nothing will ever be the same again. 

You take one last look at the Byers home, the house you grew up in and discovered pure love and joy and naivety in, and inhale the final scent of your childhood. Dandelions are in bloom, its yellow surrounds the home, soon they will wilt and its seeds will litter the sky

Joyce’s words ring in your head.

It’s time to live the life that you deserve. You’re on your own now, though you know that really you aren’t. Dustin is next to you, Steve and Robin are waiting at your house with movies stolen from work because they knew how hard today would be. Your mother has your favorite cookies ready and waiting for you. Mike and the others have already planned their first letter to Will. 

The charm bracelet from the party and Steve is cool against your wrist. 

You’re no longer the scared, angry twelve year old you had been when you first moved to Hawkins. You’re loved, you have so many incredible people in your life who now get to watch you grow up into someone new. 

Slowly, you exhale your childhood, with a single promise of keeping it within you forever. To live the life that Joyce has told you that you deserve.

And you believe her. 

[END OF SEASON THREE]

-

⌑ series masterlist

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[tell-them-the-north-remembers]

When you think about it Euron Greyjoy is actually the villain of all time, GRRM's magnum opus. He opens his eyes to the world and decides sibling abuse is gonna be his thing for a while. He fucks his brother's wife, gets exiled for it, fucks off to god knows where. Then allegedly finds a dragon egg, tries to get a wizard to hatch it, gets mad, randomly throws it into the sea. Commits war crimes, captures warlocks, makes them cannibalize each other for shits and giggles. Steals a dragon horn. DEMOCRATICALLY GETS ELECTED KING. Raids a man's castle, ties up the man, sees his daughter who goes "hey my step mom and step siblings suck strip them naked and make them serve dinner to ur men like that" and he goes "ok." and then is like "hey that was fun im gonna like kinda marry you and make you my salt wife". But she will be his SALT wife (she actually wont he will literally CUT her tongue bcs he evil) bcs he literally thinks oh yes i will marry daenerys and then tame a dragon using my dragonhorn and conquer westeros on dragonback aegon-style. He gets fucked up on shade of the evening daily, sees hallucinations and visions and plans on summoning eldritch horrors. He is an edgy pirate with a ship called "silence" bcs he fucking tore out the tongues of his entire crew and the ship is painted red so it conceals the BLOOD. Martin went "i have enough morally grey antagonists" and then created euron fucking greyjoy.

[ozzgin]

Tis I, good ol' ❄️ nonnie 👁️🫦💞 Dw, the kids and Bartholomew Chungus Roofus Goofy Achilles Pedro Pascal are doing great..

NOW.. I opened my eyes and saw a real nice rq you wrote out, abt the husband cow hybrid? Now.. hear me out, I was thinking with my cat, but...

Male lactation, gynaecomastia and milk flavoured/consistency cum.

He gets overstimulated by the smallest touches and has a crazy oral fixation, so, THINK ABT THIS FOLLOWING SCENARRR.IO.... ;

Your darling husband, after a long day of your teasing is oh so overstimulated, teh poor guy is rock hard.. and, although it IS your fault, he'd never blame you, the sweetheart <3..

Suddenly, as you finish washing the dishes, he walks over behind you, his abnormally tall frame casting a shadow on your body. He slowly loops his arms around your waist, licking stripes up your neck, his nipples already begging for attention, dribbling due to his arousal.

After he gets your nod of consent (BC CONSENT IS SO SO HOT.. 🥵🤤) he drags you to the couch and gets on his knees infront of you, while you sit in a relaxed position, your legs slung over his shoulders as he begins to eat you out/give you head.

His round eyes are teary, his long lashes stuck together. He just can't help himself! He loves you so so much, so when you tuck his bangs behind his ear so compassionately, before gently tugging on his nipples with one hand while the other gently strokes his head, petting his ears, he almost blows his load, his eyes rolling to the back of his head before you cut him off, telling him softly to get on the couch, before he can cum

He obeys, but is teary eyed at his failed attempt to cum. As he lays on his back you suck and lick his nipples, drinking drops of warm and sweet milk, before pressing kisses along his torso and abs, before sucking him off, holding his trembling hands in yours.

While the milk from his tits was sweet and reminded you of cow milk, his cum is slightly saltier and reminds you more of oat milk, the consistency still runny and the temperature still warm.

After you drink every last drop, he hoists you up, hugging you close and pressing soft kisses to your neck, lips, shoulders, cheeks and forehead, effectively lulling you to sleep better than any lullaby.

Today was eventful, but with him.. every day is a dream, the sex being only the silver lining, while his love and kindness being front stage.. You both silently think to yourselves "How did I get so lucky?" with a smile on your faces before drifting off to dream land.

Yeah I hyperfixated on this bs, but hey, even when you are neuro-divergent, you can stay thuggin'. Shout out to my boy Nagisa from 50% Off, he's the OG 🗣️👣

And to the lactose not tolerant and lactose challenged pookies, uhh, oopsies

Here's some dookie wiping paper, aha (with rizz) 👁️👅👁️🫴🧻🧻🧻🧻🧻🧻🧻🧻🧻🧻🧻🧻🧻

I don't think there's much to add to your story. This is it, the magnum opus of hucow husband. All I have is a humble doodle to match your literary work.

[dix0nvix3n]

𖤓°⋆ Chapter 1 °⋆𖤓

⋆☀︎｡Pairing: Daryl Dixon x Reader  ⋆☀︎｡Media: The Walking Dead; No Apocalypse & Alternate Universe ⋆☀︎｡Pronouns: She/Her  ⋆☀︎｡ Warning: Smoking (Cigarettes), One mention of weed, Talk of a bad past relationship. (That's it I think?) ⋆☀︎｡ Word Count: 2.5k

⋆☀︎｡ Author's Note: It's finally here... the beginning of my magnum opus. Even though I only have this one chapter out, there hasn't been a single day since I came up with the idea for the fic where I didn't think about it at least once. I just wanna thank all the people who let me infodump about it; y'all are true soldiers, cause I can really ramble on. Special thanks to @sinkdownbeneath for helping me write the intro because I was completely stuck for months with almost nothing to show, and being the person who let me yap the most, he can account for me pretty much talking about it every day for the past five months. So, anyway, I guess I hope y'all like my first finished something that wasn't just a blurb. Last night I only had a little over 200 words at 10 PM something, and now it's 7:44 AM with 2.5k words as I write this... I don't know what got into me, but anyway, enjoy!

June 1st, 1992

Daryl finds himself propped up against a tree, catching his breath. The cool summer air around him makes his chest ache with every breath he takes. He had been running, hearing the twigs snap and the leaves crunch beneath his feet as he darted past every tree, trying to evade potential capture from a party that had him jumping out a window when the cops showed up due to a noise complaint.

He spent much of his life within the comfort of the woodland, underneath the thick canopy of leaves and branches, the first roof he ever felt safe under.

He gasped for air, his legs exhausted and his lungs overworked, adrenaline still pulsing through him as he slid down the rough bark of a tree, pulling his legs up to his chest.

He's close to the road, hearing a solitary car cruise past. He can tell it's late from the stars that peek through the leaves that loom above him in the thick black sky, but he spots his glimmer of hope, which seems to be the soft light of a gas station just a bit beyond the road's traffic barrier closest to him.

With a deep inhale, Daryl knew he had to walk to the gas station and reluctantly call for a ride in a phone booth.

After fully catching his breath, he pulled himself off the ground and began walking towards the gas station, already dreading the thought of the phone call.

Reaching the gas station, he saw two cars; one belonged to the lone worker at the cash register inside, and the other belonged to a woman smoking a cigarette at the side of the building. The woman did a quick wave at him, which he found to be a little odd just because most people at this time of night aren't too friendly, but he gave a polite wave back anyway. 

Finally getting up to the phone booth, Daryl looked down at his watch, which read 1:00 AM, causing him to let out a deep sigh, realizing how late it was and how much of an inconvenience it would be for someone to come and pick him up. 

He stepped inside the phone booth, staring at the phone for a minute before popping in the quarters he luckily grabbed from the living room floor of the party. If he hadn't grabbed them, he'd be completely fucked and have to figure out his way back to his apartment.

After dialing the number he knew would pick up, the phone rang just a few times before a tired and clearly just woken up by a phone at one in the morning voice picked up.

"Hey, Mr. H... Could ya pick me up?"

"Thanks. 'm sorry about this; kinda just started walking and didn't stop. Ended up at some party, and now I don' know where I am."

"Yeah. Place is called Peachy Speed, never seen another gas station called this; it must be family-owned or somethin' and the closest road sign says it's on Navel Street. You know where I'm at?"

"Okay, cool. See ya in a bit. Sorry again."

After hanging up, Daryl stepped out of the phone booth with his head held down, letting out a deep exhale and running a hand through his hair until he heard a pair of feet shuffling up to him.

He looked up to see who it was, and it was you, the woman who waved at him.

"Need one?" You held out an open pack of Marlboro Reds, with only one cigarette missing from the pack.

"Oh. Yeah. Thanks." His thoughts stuttered for a moment because he was caught up in the fact that you came over to him. You're really pretty, and now Daryl feels like a nervous schoolboy trying to ask a girl to the prom just because of a simple gesture.

He grabbed a cigarette out of the box and reached to pull his lighter out of his pocket, only not to feel it, and checked the other pocket to have the same luck. "Shit."

You let out a small chuckle. "Need a light too?” You pulled a lighter out of your pocket and handed it over to him.

He nodded his thanks and popped the cig in his mouth before lifting the black bic with a spiderweb seemingly hand-painted on up to the end of the stick. Flicking the flame to life, he took a long inhale and handed you back the lighter, as he really took a moment to take in the sight of you. 

You were in a black tank top tucked into a pair of black ripped jean shorts. Under the pair of jean shorts were fishnets with an intricate pattern of moons and stars, and you had on a pair of slightly battered-up Doc Martens. 

As he exhaled the first plume of smoke into the night sky, he saw your kind smile, which sent a rush of warmth through his face. Your lips had a simple gloss on them, but your eyes were a different story, painted with smokey eyeshadow, sharp graphic eyeliner, and two rounds of mascara on each set of your top lashes. He also noticed the simple yet pretty titanium stud on the left side of your nose and two helix rings on both your ears.

He thought you were gorgeous, his heartbeat a slightly faster pace than what it normally rested at.

"Rough night?" You asked as you lit up a cigarette for yourself, letting out a slight gag at the taste and smell that you weren't used to, which caused Daryl to let out a small chuckle.

"Sorta. More of just hated the fact I had to call and wake someone up to come and get me. First time smokin'?" He said before he took another drag.

"How'd you know?" You said sarcastically as your face contorted in disgust a bit at the taste building up in your mouth and throat after each puff.

"Maybe try a different brand. You'll find one ya like." A small smile graced his lips as he butted off the ash at the end and took another drag. 

"Nah. Think I'm quitting after this one. I'll just stick to weed."

He let out a chuckle. "May I ask, why'd ya even start?"

You let out a small groan, running your hand through your hair in slight embarrassment. "I finally left my shitty boyfriend once and for all. I finally realized he'd never like me for the real me. I constantly had to put on this mask around him, and I finally found out that it was impossible to fix him and the fact he didn't actually like me. I know it sounds weird, but I guess my thought process was that my epiphany about him would stick with me after smoking one like a character in a movie or something." You let out a laugh. "Stupid, right?" 

He snubbed out the end of the cigarette, as it was almost a roach at this point. "Nah, it ain't stupid. A lot of my best thoughts come after smokin' one, cleared my head more times than I can count. You deserve one after the bullshit he put you through, I think. Hope the prick is havin' a shit night after realizin' he's lost you cause ya seem awesome to me so far."

You felt warmth begin to rise in your cheeks at his words. "Thanks. I know I deserve better. I'm just pissed; it took me so long to realize it. So, anyway, what's your name? I can't believe I haven't asked yet."

"Name's Daryl; what's yours?"

You had a few good puffs left of your cig but decided to snub yours out as well since you didn't like it anyway. "Well, it's nice to meet you, Daryl. My name is (Y/N). Do you wanna come sit with me at my spot against the wall? My most likely melted slushy is calling my name to get this taste out of my mouth." 

"Yeah, I can. Might be a bit till my ride gets here, so I might as well sit down." He started walking to your spot, and you followed in tow. 

When you got back to your spot, you looked down at your slushy on the ground. The dark purple concoction of blue raspberry and cherry slushy combo was completely melted. "Goddammit." You didn't fully care though; you paid for that slushy, because you were stubborn it meant you were going to have all of what you paid for, so you drank down the rest of the sugary liquid with a satisfied sigh. It was luckily still cold, at least, and it was just what you needed to get the taste of the cigarette out of your mouth.

As time passed, you and Daryl talked about whatever came to mind as you doodled some intricate pattern on the front of the pack of the Marlboro Reds with a sharpie, ultimately moving to the back when you ran out of room. You found out that he works as a mechanic for motorcycles and cars at a nearby auto body shop, that he rides a motorcycle that he built himself a few years ago, that he loves to hunt on occasion, specifically with a crossbow, and that he ran from the cops at a house party tonight.

You knew your short time with Daryl was up when you saw a 1987 Ford Sierra MK2 pull into a parking spot at the gas station, and Daryl stood up, doing a quick stretch. The man in the car smiled and made a small wave at you, and you did the same back.

"It was nice meetin' ya, (Y/N). I'd talk more, but I don't wanna keep him up any longer." He said as he gestured a hand towards the man who came to pick him up. 

"It was nice meeting you too. Thanks for talking to me, Daryl." You pulled the pack of cigarettes from your pocket and held them out to him. "Take these. You need them more than me. Plus, I just quit." You grinned at him as he took the box from you. 

"Holy shit, thank you." He smiled back as he placed the box in his own pocket and slowly started walking backward towards the car. "Hope ya have a good night and that Nick the dick has a shit one. 

You let out a laugh at the nickname Daryl gave your ex-boyfriend and waved him goodbye with a "You too." You leaned your head back against the wall, staring up at the night sky as your eyes finally began to feel tired, knowing you should head back to your friend's apartment soon and try and get some sleep before your nine AM shift. 

Once Daryl got in the car, he let out a quiet sigh as he looked out the window at you, wishing he dared to ask for your number. You were the first good conversation he'd had in a while, and his schoolboy-like crush on you kept growing the whole time you talked.

"So, who's that?" The man said as he shifted the car into gear, Daryl noticing the grin on his face.

"A girl that started talkin' to me after our call. Name's (Y/N)." He pulled the pack of cigarettes out of his pocket, mindlessly tracing the pattern of doodles you did.

"You ask for her number? The car was now beginning to be backed out of its parking spot.

"Nah. Mind if I smoke?" Daryl shook the pack and began looking for one of the lighters he left in the glove compartment a few weeks ago. 

The man shook his head with a slight sigh and said, "Go ahead." He wasn't shaking his head over Daryl wanting to smoke, but over the fact he wouldn't ask for your number when he obviously liked you, but he knew he couldn't push him; he understood Daryl's nature.

Daryl looked back out the window at you, opening it as he blew out the first cloud of smoke. He then looked back down in his lap where the box lay, flipping it over to the back to see what you had drawn there as well. His breath hitched as he saw it. On the back was your phone number, and above it said, "Call me" with a smiley face. 

The tips of Daryl's ears were beet red, and he tried to hold back his face from turning the same color. He looked back out the window at you to see you grinning at him this time, to which he smiled and waved goodbye to you as the car pulled out of the lot. In Daryl's twenty-three years of life, he could say that this night was one of his best.

"Daryl, why'd you call me Mr. H again? Son, you've known me for five years; how many times do I gotta remind you to call me by my name? It's Dale for you."

Daryl let out a small cloud of smoke this time, wanting to savor this one on the peaceful ride back. "I'll tell ya again, it happens when I'm nervous; didn't wanna wake you up, s'all, and you still are my boss after all."

"Daryl, you're like a son to me, and I told you to never be nervous if you need help, and that includes coming and picking you up in the middle of the night if needed. I'm here for you." Dale placed his right hand on Daryl's shoulder, keeping his left on the wheel as he squeezed his shoulder lightly before returning it to the steering wheel.

"Now, it's not Mr. H or Mr. Horvath, son. It's Dale."

Daryl rolled his eyes playfully. "Yes, sir," he joked, letting out a chuckle.

It was the next day around 10:30 PM when Daryl picked up the phone on his nightstand and finally called the number you gave him, nervously wrapping the cord around his finger. The phone only rang twice before the other end picked up, "Hey, is this (Y/N)?" 

The inner teenage girl in your brain screamed in excitement, so happy that he finally called. "Omg, Daryl! I was wondering when you were gonna call me. I've been waiting since I got off my shift."

"Didn't know if you worked a mornin' shift or got off at night, and I didn't wanna leave too many voicemails on your friend's phone."

"Yeah, I worked a morning shift at the diner today. I got off at five. Morning shifts are the fucking worst." You're lying on your stomach on the couch, playfully curling the phone's cord around your finger and kicking your feet back and forth in the air.

You and Daryl talked for an hour, mainly talking about the shitty customers you dealt with today, sounding especially frustrated about the woman who yelled at you just because the diner was out of unsweet tea that you couldn't do anything about because the place was also out of tea bags to make more. What did she want you to do? Just up and leave your job and go buy the tea bags, your fucking self?

"Even though I don't want to, I gotta go to bed 'cause I have another morning shift tomorrow. I get off at five, so call me around six-thirty, okay?" 

"I get off at five too. Works for me. Goodnight, (Y/N)."

"Goodnight to you too, Daryl."

The call ended, and you both looked up at your respective ceilings, smiling as warmth bloomed through your faces. You both slept well that night, falling asleep to the thought of calling each other tomorrow.

⋆☀︎｡ Extra author's note: Here's what Dale would look like in 1992, I took Dale's age of 64 from the show since the apocalypse started in 2010 so he'd be 46 in 1992. I think this picture of Jeffrey Demunn is from when he was 43 maybe? I can't remember but that's close enough to 46 and even if he isn't 43 in the image he fits the look of someone in their mid-forties. Just imagine him without the cowboy hat, okay? There's not a lot of pictures of him when he was younger.

⋆☀︎｡ Taglist: @mrdixon , @yevmarie , and @shadowcitrine

⋆☀︎｡ Divider creds: @ saradika, go check her account out! She has some very cute dividers!

[dustofthedailylife]

No Gift Greater Than Love

→ Masterlist || → Taglist

Pairing: Alhaitham, Ayato x (gn!) Reader

Summary: It's your birthday so he plans to spend some time with you.

Tags: Fluff, a teeny tiny bit of angst/uncertainty at the beginning if you squint, confessions, kissing, Ayato is being a smooth talker

A/N: I wanted to write a little self-indulgent fic for my birthday today, so here it is. Posting an HSR fic as well later! :3 I also can't add an animated header because tumblr hates me again so, sorry about that! ;_;

ALHAITHAM

You rarely ever took a day off work, not when you were sick, not when you were tired, and especially not when you had so many deadlines coming up. And knowing the perfectionist you are there was no way you’d even rest for a single day until everything was set and done. Only then you would allow yourself to rest. 

So you sat there, at your desk, on your birthday, with your head buried in your books and no other plans but to study all day long. But besides that, you still hoped your friends didn’t forget you and would at least come by to wish you a happy birthday or send you mail. 

Because despite not wanting to make a big deal out of your birthday and running around being like ‘Hey, did you know, today is my birthday?’, reminding people that it was your birthday and expecting gifts, you at least wanted some birthday wishes from your friends. That wasn’t too much to ask, right? Especially after your own brother forgot your birthday last year, which despite having a great day made you cry back then.

So you were positively surprised to find letters from your parents, your brother, Cyno and Tighnari in your mailbox on the morning of your birthday. Kaveh had stopped by before he visited another one of his clients as well to drop off his – quote: “magnum opus of birthday cakes”. Which was essentially just a one-by-one model of your house in cake form - with some additional tweaks he must’ve made out of artistic liberty here and there. It looked almost too good to eat.

Tighnari and Cyno both sent you a small gift and a letter with birthday wishes as well.

The only one who hadn’t yet sent anything or stopped by was Alhaitham. Not like you expected him to actually treat today any differently than any other day in the first place. Birthdays weren’t exactly something he cared about. Yet, despite knowing his attitude towards them, you felt disappointment welling up inside of you. You secretly hoped you would be his exception. But apparently not.

Swallowing the lump in your throat down you dove head first into your study materials to distract yourself. Successfully. Because before you realized the sun was barely just a thin line on the horizon and a knock could be heard on your door.

You peeled yourself away from your desk, stretching your exhausted limbs on the way, only for them to tense up again when you saw who was standing in front of your door. Alhaitham.

“You look tired.” He remarked monotonously.

“Good evening to you, too.” You rolled your eyes, but without being able to suppress a small smile. After all, you knew his antics by now and his blunt statement came out of a place of concern and care. He simply huffed in reply, the corners of his mouth twitching upwards in a barely noticeable manner.

However, you couldn’t help but wonder about his visit. Could it be that he stopped by because of your–

“Do you still want to go grab dinner?” He inquires, stopping your train of thought.

Right. It was Thursday. The day you usually meet up at the Tavern after work to get dinner with your other friends every week. It totally slipped your mind since you were so buried in your studies all day. Of course, he didn’t stop by just because it was your birthday, stupid.

You nod in reply to his question and quickly grab your keys before following outside into the still-warm and muggy fall air. It smelled like damp leaves that had begun to fall and spices that always seemed to hang into the Sumerian air. It had already gone dark and the moon was hanging high in the sky, framed by a myriad of little sparkling stars. You had always loved the night sky, especially on cloudless nights like tonight.

“Do you mind if we do a little detour?” Alhaitham questioned out of the blue.

“Uh…, no not at all.”

“Good.” He nodded his head to the side, urging you to follow him to wherever he planned to go.

He began walking up the ramp to the Akademiya again, which caused you to assume that he must’ve forgotten something in his office earlier. But when he walked right past his office door and led you outside again you were beginning to wonder.

You were now standing on a secluded balcony. On it stood a blue pavilion with a mosaic roof and a single stone bench that offered a perfect view over Sumeru and the beautifully illuminated night sky.

“Beautiful…”, you mutter in awe.

“Agreed.” Alhaitham mused contently. What you failed to notice at the moment however was, that, unlike you, he wasn’t referring to the view you were referring to. He was looking right at you out of the corners of his eyes.

“I didn’t know there was such a beautiful place up here.” You exclaimed in surprise, leaning on the railing of the balcony.

“I often come here to read. Not many people know of this place.”

You could definitely see why he loved this place so much. But one question began to push itself into the foreground of your mind more and more.

“Why… did you lead me here, though?” You questioned curiously but interrupted yourself when a shooting star appeared in your field of view. “Wait, was that–? Alhaitham, did you see that?”

You turned around excitedly gifting him a smile. And the shine in your eyes sparkled more intensely than the stars in the night sky ever could.

“Close your eyes.” He urged. “Make a wish.”

You grinned widely, turned around to face him, and closed your eyes.

“You have to make your wish too, though.” You reminded him teasingly.

“I already did.”

You tried to think of something to wish for. Especially after being led here you couldn’t think of anything you desired right now. 

Do you? Are you maybe not betraying your own thoughts again? 

No. You didn’t dare to think about what your heart really yearned for. What it truly desired. It would never come true anyway. Alhaitham would never feel the same for you. 

He didn’t even remember your birthday today.

You were just friends.

And yet you couldn’t get the image of kissing him out of your head, continuously replaying in front of your inner eye. No matter how hard you tried to push it away.

There was no way you could wish for–

You felt him inch closer to you. Leaning one hand against the railing behind you while the other hand brushed a strand of hair out of your face before he rested it against your cheek. Spearmint breath and the tangy smell of moss and pines from his aftershave ghosted over your face. He was so close by now that you could feel the heat that radiated off his skin and his breath fan over your lips.

For a moment you thought you could hear that his breath was shaky. Was he nervous?

Your mind was racing a thousand miles per hour at this point, and so was your heart. The irritated muscle was thumping against your chest with such ferocious intensity that you feared he may be able to hear it as well. Question after question and speculation after speculation popped into your mind, completely overwhelming your senses. 

What was he doing? Why was he so close? How long have you had your eyes closed already? What was his plan? All of these were questions you found no immediate answers to.

You slightly parted your lips in order to speak and were just about to open your eyes again when he muttered something. 

Happy Birthday.

Something that made your breath hitch and heart sing as your lips molded together, fulfilling what you had both wished for.

AYATO

You’ve been on your feet since roughly 4:30 a.m., running up and down the halls of the Kamisato Estate to help the Retainers with the preparation of the most important political meeting all year.

Much to your dismay it had to fall exactly on the day of your birthday and had to be held at the Kamisato Estate. Which meant you wouldn’t get to see Ayato for most of the day and had to spend it alone. Well, mostly. The staff, Ayaka and Thoma were still there, too, but just like you, they were busy helping as well. All hands were needed today.

Ayato woke up around the same time you had and wished you a happy birthday first thing before already having to rush out to run errands.

But you understood the importance of the ordeal and were not mad or disappointed. Which seemed to have not gotten through to Ayato yet, who seemed extra touchy today whenever you ran into him in the hallway this morning.

Just now as you were carrying some items into the huge room the conference was supposed to be held in, you walked past Ayato in the hall once again.

Gloved, slender fingers suddenly found a place around your waist and turned you around. One of his hands wandered to the back of your head, pulling your face against his chest while he pressed a kiss to the crown of your head.

He stayed quiet for a moment, soaking your presence in, and exhaling heavily before uttering yet another apology into your hair.

“My love, please forgive me. I’m so sorry we are not able to spend all of today together to celebrate.”

“How often do I need to reassure you that it is alright, Ayato? I’m not upset in the slightest. In fact, I understand the importance of this. It may be my birthday but at the bottom of it, it is just a day like any other.” You reassured, burying your face deeper into his chest and basking in his warmth for this fleeting moment while inhaling the familiar flowery scent that always seemed to linger around him.

You heard him sigh before you looked up at him. He pressed his lips together into a thin line, before kissing the crown of your head once more with a defeated look in his eyes. One that carried all his thoughts and emotions at once. You knew he was sorry, it was practically written on his face. 

Sorry, that he couldn’t spend your day with you, that he wasn’t able to give you all the attention to deserved, and that he had to waste his precious time away with some boring politicians.

The hand that rested on your waist gave you another reaffirming squeeze before he peeled himself away from you again with a slight frown on his beautiful features. The sadness and disappointment still lingered behind his lilac irises. He was definitely beating himself up over it way more than you did.

“Okay.” He nodded in defeat. “I will see you in the evening, yeah?”

“Alright!” You cheered, giving him an honest smile. “And stop beating yourself up over it, okay?”

He nodded, squeezing your hands with his for one last time before going back to work. 

You continued helping out around the Estate until all the guests arrived and the door to the room all of them vanished into stayed shut. You expected them to stay in there at least until the late afternoon, if not even the evening.

And you were right, the sun had already begun to set when you felt a familiar pair of arms snake around your waist from behind again. You had been sitting outside in the garden and reading your book, soaking in the soothing late summer breeze while eagerly awaiting the end of Ayato's meeting.

"There you are." You hummed contently carding through the soft pastel blue locks of your husband who had his head buried in the crook of your neck. "I missed you."

"And so did I. It's been a long and exhausting day." He spoke in a low voice, as if he was about to drift off to sleep any minute, and slung his arms impossibly tighter around your midriff.

"Let's go for a short stroll to the city, my love. Will you join me? It doesn't sit right with me that you had to spend your birthday in solitude." He proposed in an afflicted tone.

"Aren't you too tired for–"

"I will not hear any objections." He interrupted, lifting his finger against your lips with a smug grin. 

And so you found yourself strolling through Ritou hand in hand. By the time you had arrived, the sun had completely set and the paper lanterns illuminated the streets, draping a comfortable blanket of yellow light over the surrounding area.

It was a quiet night. Just how you preferred it. No massive crowds of people you had to squeeze through, no queues in front of restaurants, and no one who would stop you to talk to Ayato. Just you, him, and the cicadas in the trees that bemoaned the encroaching end of the summer.

"Do you want me to get us some milk tea? I saw that my vendor of choice is still open." He asked when you sat down on a bench underneath a tall maple tree just out of sight of potential prying eyes and not far from said vendor.

"I'd love to."

"Anything specific you’d like me to get?"

"You choose.” You smiled brightly. “Surprise me.”

“Alright. Stay right here, I’ll be right back.”

You watched as he made his way over to the stall, carefully studying the menu with squinted eyes and a hand on his chin. You bit your lip and laughed to yourself because, as always, he was taking this tea business way too seriously.

Eventually, he picked an item before going right back to studying the menu as if he wanted to burn the letters themselves, into his retina. The vendor was visually nervous to be serving the man in front of him in fear of messing anything up and was twirling a straw between his fingers to calm himself. Until your husband finally decided on the second drink he wanted to order.

The vendor carefully handed the drinks to Ayato and promptly refused when he was offered Mora in return. Ayato skillfully ignored the man and promptly put the coins inside the tray before walking back in your direction with two cups of tea in hand.

“So, what did you get for me?” You quizically raised your eyebrows at the drink he handed you.

“I guess there is only one way for you to find out.” He smirked, taking a sip out of his own cup.

You carefully did the same, subconsciously expecting something like salty algae tea with sea ganoderma pearls, because you knew your husband and his strange tastes. But alas, you had signed up for it.

But unlike what you were expecting, black milk tea with a tinge of honey and sunsettia pearls enveloped your tastebuds soon after. Your favorite.

You hummed and closed your eyes with a smile, raveling in the refreshing taste of the beverage, making you forget how lonely you had been most of the day.

“You chose well.” You contently stated after a brief moment of indulging in your tea and looked at Ayato with a smile.

He inched closer to you on the bench with a devilish smirk painted across his lips. He shifted your chin upwards, making eye contact with you for a fleeting moment before uniting his lips with yours in a tender, loving kiss. And after all this time, it never failed to make the butterflies in your stomach flutter about wildly.

He gently took your hand in his as he began to carefully twist the wedding band around your finger. He looked up into your eyes, a sly smile adorned his lips once more before he smugly whispered: “Of course. I always do.” 

Do not repost, copy, translate or edit - © dustofthedailylife || reblogs, comments, and asks about Genshin or my fics are always greatly appreciated and motivate me! Maple dividers are mine - do not copy.

[dem-obscure-imagines]

You're So Timeless | Vol. 2

Steve Rogers x Reader

Fandom: MCU

Summary: In 1943, Steve Rogers was visited by his soulmate. He fell hard. Problem is, she was from the future and didn’t stick around for long. Now, in the twenty-first century, he finally found her again, except this version of her hasn’t met him yet and won’t know he’s her soulmate for another year. 

Note: So this is a combination of my other two Steve Rogers soulmate AU fics, but lengthened and fleshed out into a full fic. I was literally possessed to write this. I have no other explanation. I really like how it came out. I gave this one chapter headings (I am also going to post it to Ao3) and yes some are Taylor Swift titles. Sorry about that. It takes place roughly around the time Civil War would, but we have managed to avoid the war this time around. I also moved some other characters up the timeline because I think they’re neat and I said so. Without further ado, please enjoy my new Magnum Opus.

Also Tumblr made me split it into two parts. This is PART 2. Part 1 is linked HERE.

Warnings: Canon-typical violence/injuries, soulmate au, tons of mutual pining, kind of a slowburn but in reverse. Light angst, but a happy ending.

Word Count: 38.7k total (I am not sorry)

Reader Is: Enhanced (forcefields), 24 years old, female 

The Recovery Period

When you woke up, Steve was there sitting in the infirmary, sleeping. His head was leaning back against the wall, snores deep and quiet. It was dark. You weren’t sure how long it had been. You blinked a few times and took a breath, your chest protesting when you did.

The monitor you were hooked to started beeping loudly and Steve awoke, meeting your eyes. He called for Bruce and stood from his chair, approaching the side of your bed. You reached for his hand and he gave it to you immediately, fingers latching onto yours, as though to prove you were awake, that you were alive.

Bruce arrived and gave you the rundown, the grenade, which you remembered, the fact that you had a cracked rib and quite a bit of bruising, but that you had gotten very lucky otherwise. He prescribed you some pain meds and six weeks of rest with a brace before he’d reevaluate.

And at first, it wasn’t bad. Sam played a lot of Fortnite with you. You were pretty good at it, surprisingly. Tony had a pretty extensive collection of movies and you had every snack you could ever dream of. You got some reading done, you picked up crochet, and everyone spent a lot of time entertaining you.

Bucky introduced himself. Steve had talked about him a bit before you met him, but the man standing in front of you was a lot quieter than you’d expected, more timid. You figured he’d open up more once he was convinced none of you were scared of him. And you weren’t. The dangerous part of him was the Winter Soldier, something Wanda had been working with him to unwind from the depths of his mind.

After a few days, when your pain had toned down a bit, Natasha sat you on a stool in the kitchen and gave your hair a trim, getting rid of the singed ends. Wanda got into the undercover stash in one of the bathrooms and found a few bottles of hair bleach and some blue dye. Steve found the three of you in there with hair shears, and a bowl of mixed blue dye that Wanda was painting onto your freshly bleached ends.

He had no complaints. After all, blue was your color. It was quite a bit shorter, too, but he thought it suited you. He thought everything suited you, to be honest.

You did some online shopping in those first few weeks. Your Avengers allowance was no joke and you had barely touched any of it yet, which meant a new reading chair was well within the budget, a cool round one than you could hang from the ceiling. It was Steve that found you pushing the giant box down the hall when it arrived.

“Hey! Woah, are you supposed to be pushing that?”

You froze, turning to face him. “Maaaaybe.”

“Alright, move.” He chuckled, rolling up his sleeves and taking over, pushing it down the hall to your room. “What is this anyway?”

“New reading chair. It’s really cool, it hangs from the ceiling.”

“And you were going to do that part, too?”

“I was gonna figure it out. Maybe use my powers for that part.”

“Ah, right. Forgot about those.”

“Me too, honestly. Haven’t used them much lately.”

“For good reason.” He straightened out, the box now sitting in the middle of your room. “How are you feeling, better?”

“A lot better. Still a little sore, but my bruises are starting to clear up.” You motioned to the brace you had to wear around your middle. “Might be out of this thing before six weeks if I can help it.”

“Yeah, well, we’ll see what Bruce says.”

“Of course.” You nodded, using a pair of scissors to slice the tape along the top of the box.

Steve opened it up and started taking parts out. You reached for the instructions and sat down next to him on the floor, familiarizing yourself with the process. It didn’t look too difficult and it was only a few pieces of hardware.

“I’m gonna go grab some of Tony’s tools.” He told you, walking towards Tony’s workroom. He returned a few minutes later with a drill and a screwdriver. “Alright, where are we starting?”

“Okay, so we attach the chair part to the support chains, and then those get screwed into the ceiling. Like this.” You showed him the diagram.

“I’m no handyman, but I think we can figure it out.” He grinned, scooting a little closer to you.

“Oh I’m sure we can.”

It didn’t take long. Less than an hour. The two of you talked, joked, laughed. Eventually, you used your powers to hold the thing in place so Steve could screw it into the ceiling. He got off the stepladder and sat in the chair, testing the strength of the chair himself before deciding it was good enough for you. With a smile, he got up and motioned for you to give it a try.

You put the cushions on the chair and sat down, smiling. “I’ve always wanted a chair like this.”

“Well I’m glad I could help that dream come true.” He chuckled. He handed you the book sitting on your desk. “Here, give it a real test.”

“Oh good idea.” You chuckled, positioning the book in your hands, curling your legs into your desired reading position. Yep, it worked. And it was pretty comfortable. “Now all I need is a little lamp over here.”

“Let me know when that comes in.” Steve chuckled, thumbs tucked into his pockets. “I’ll be here.”

Steve watched you with a soft smile, how happy you were. Maybe someday, he would build other things for you, in a house you shared. A nice little place in the suburbs, or on a farm somewhere, like Clint had made for his wife, Laura. He’d build you a million reading chairs. Hell, he’d build you a whole library if it’d put that smile on your face.

“You ever built Legos before?” you asked.

“I don’t even know what those are.”

“Alright, we’ll fix that. There’s a really easy fix to that, actually.” You pulled out your phone, clicked a few links, and then looked back up at him with a smile. “It’s on its way.”

“What’s that look for?”

“You will find out in two to three business days.”

***

By the time your Millennuim Falcon Lego set came in, Steve had been sent on another mission. And while he was gone, the Compound got an unexpected visitor in the form of Scott Lang, who Sam found on the roof and promptly got his ass kicked by while you were sitting at the monitors, one of the only things that you could do with your current injury.

“Don’t tell Steve.”

“Oh I won’t.” You spun out of your office chair, made a portal to the warehouse, and stepped through it, using your augmented goggles to find the guy, trapping him in a tiny forcefield. Sam came into the warehouse shortly after, looking at the bubble you’d made with interest.

“Got him. Ow!” Something nipped at your ankle and you looked down to find hundreds of ants. “Oh FUCK no.” You dropped him and kicked off the ants, making a platform of energy to stand on so they couldn’t crawl on you.

“Hey man, she’s injured!” Sam called into the room, looking around for wherever he had gone.

“Sorry!” The attacker replied.

And that was the last you saw or heard from him until Sam tracked him down, offering him membership on the team, if he so wanted it. Someone who shrunk could be a great asset on the team. Which is why when he told the rest of you about Hope, someone who did the same but with wings, obviously, she was invited, too.

The team was growing, and as it did, the Compound felt less empty, which was nice, especially when the team was split off doing their own things.

Steve came back shortly after, looking tired. It hadn’t been anything too bad, from what you’d heard, but he, Natasha, Clint, and Tony had been gone for a week. Still, the moment he was back, he popped his head into your room.

“Hey.”

“When did you guys get back?” You asked, looking up from your book, curled up in your reading chair.

“Just now. Um, I’m gonna take a shower, and then…Legos?” He asked, eyes earnest. You could tell he had been thinking about it the whole time he’d been gone.

“Oh absolutely. I’ve got ‘em ready to go.”

“Excellent. See you in twenty.” He saluted, walking down the hall to his room. You got the massive box of Legos out of your closet and brought it out to the table in the lounge, waiting patiently for Steve, who got out of the shower not that long after, dressed in sweats and a tank-top, still a bit damp from the water.

“Tadaaaa~” you said, pushing the box across the table. 

His eyes lit up as soon as he realized what it was. “Where did you get this?”

“Amazon.”

“It comes with Han Solo?” Steve asked, looking at the pictures of the minifigures on the box.

“Yeah, of course it does. Comes with Leia, too.” You grinned, opening the box and dealing out instruction manuals, sorting the bags into neat little piles.

“This is great.” He smiled. “Thank you.”

“Don’t mention it.” You shrugged. “I owe you one for building my reading chair. Now pay attention; This little orange thing is a Lego separator. It’ll help if you get them stuck together and can’t get them apart. Oh, and do not step on them. It will hurt so bad.”

He chuckled. “Thanks for the heads-up. So where do we start?”

Catch Me Now

Finally, after what felt like the longest recovery period ever, you were cleared once more for missions and training. However, you didn’t have any at the moment. Missions, that was. You were back to training with the others three times a week. Steve had you back on a workout regimen, but he was treating you different, like at any moment your rib might randomly re-crack.

Wanda and Vision got sent off on a mission with Clint, a recruitment mission. Apparently, there was another archer on his radar. A good one. It was his hope that with another archer on the team, he could take a bit of a step back, still be involved when he was needed, but hopefully, he’d be able to spend some more time with his family.

This meant, however, that you didn’t have anyone to go to the local theater’s Hunger Games marathon with. You asked Natasha first, but she was busy looking through some files, working out the details of the coming missions.

“I think Steve is here today. You could ask him if he wants to go.”

You could, you supposed. You felt a lot closer to him, lately. You had been spending a lot of time with him, between the extra training and the Legos. He had custody of the Millennium Falcon set, but he’d given you the Leia minifigure. She was sitting on your desk in your room.

So, with a shrug, you agreed, walking down the hall to Steve’s room and knocking on the door. He and Bucky were in there, talking hushedly about something, but they quieted at the sound of your knuckles against the wood.

The door opened and Bucky looked down at you, smiling when he realized who it was. “Oh, hey, (Y/N).” He welcomed you in, shooting Steve a look.

“Hey, (Y/N). What’s going on?”

“If you’re busy, I can come back later.”

“Oh, no, we’re just…catching up.” Steve said.

“Gotcha. So um…Wanda was supposed to go to a movie marathon with me at the mall today, but she forgot she had to go on that mission, so I was wondering if you wanted to come with? I already bought the tickets.”

“Oh, sure. What movies?”

“The Hunger Games.”

“Yeah, absolutely.” Steve nodded. “Just let me get changed.”

“You can come too, if you want, Bucky. I’m sure they’re not sold out.”

“Oh, that is alright, (Y/N). Thank you, though. I’ve gotta work myself up to public outings.” He looked between the two of you, a weird sparkle in his eye. “You two have fun.”

“Will do.” Steve replied, chuckling as his friend left.

You left after, getting changed into the outfit you’d picked out. It was pretty simple: a bleach-dyed Hunger Games shirt, some comfy joggers for the long day ahead, and a pair of slip-on shoes. You grabbed your purse and walked back out to the living room, where Steve was waiting, dressed in his civilian disguise, a baseball cap and glasses. No one would ever recognize him in glasses.

“Ready?”

“Ready.” You nodded, plucking your keys off of the hook by the door.

“Oh, I can drive.” Steve offered.

“Okay.” You agreed, putting your keys back.

He picked up his instead, from the hook next to yours. You walked out and got in Steve’s car, hopping in the passenger seat. The mall was about an hour out. Steve took the backroads, the scenic route. But you didn’t have to give him directions. He knew where he was going. After all, it was the same mall where he had met you.

You gazed out the window, watching the trees go by, looking for deer. Steve gazed over at you every so often, thinking about how someday, when you were driving places, he’d be able to reach over and take your hand, bring it to his lips. His heart ached just thinking about it. The next four and a half months couldn’t pass quickly enough.

“So what are these movies about? I keep hearing about them.” He asked, desperate to hear your voice.

“Are you familiar with the dystopian genre?”

“Yeah, kinda. Like weird, bad future kinda stuff.”

“Exactly. So this one is in a world called Panem, which is supposed to be North America hundreds of years from now. There’s twelve districts and a Capitol that rules over them all. Because of a rebellion about seventy-four years earlier, every year, two kids are chosen from each district to battle to the death in an arena.”

“Woah.”

“Yeah it’s kind of a lot. It’s really good, though. Lots of commentary on the United States government. No offense.”

He chuckled. “None taken. The America I stood for back then…I’m learning it was a different America from the one we live in now. But it’s hard to shake a name that’s been stuck with you for the better part of a century.”

“What would you choose?”

“What name?”

“Yeah, if you got to choose again, now, what codename would you choose?”

“Oh, gosh, I don’t know.” He shook his head. “Something cool. I’d need help workshopping. And you? If you got to choose again?”

“I’m good with Waypoint. For a while, at least.” You shrugged. “It’s kinda fitting, all things considered.”

“It is. Suits you.”

“Thanks.” You chuckled. “So how is everything? How is Bucky doing?”

“Good. They’re um, scheduling a day to test out his…what’re they called, his trigger words? To see if Wanda’s tinkering in his head has been working.”

“Oh wow. That sounds like a lot.”

“It is. He’s nervous, but he knows it has to be done.” Steve sighed and gave a shrug. “And whatever happens, he’s got us to catch him, figure out what comes next.”

“Absolutely.” You nodded.

Steve pulled into the mall parking lot, following the signs to find the doors closest to the theater. You handed him his ticket, which was printed on shimmery, gold paper, the Mockingjay symbol stamped on in black ink. You reached into your pocket and handed him a length of string with beads on it.

“I made it for Wanda, so it might not fit.” You warned.

He read the words, spaced between orange and black and gold beads. “District 12?”

“It’ll make more sense in a bit.” You chuckled and held out your wrist, where the matching one was. “Gotta represent.”

“I’ll take your word for it.” He slipped the bracelet on, the beads spaced out and stretched around his wide wrist. “See, fits fine.”

“Uh-huh, sure does.” You laughed. “Look, it fits perfectly. You can almost read it.”

“Just about.” He grinned, reaching for the door handle.

“So, what’s our cover?”

“What?”

“Our cover. We can’t be Avengers here.”

“Right, um…” Steve thought for a moment. “You work at the library. I’m your boyfriend and you dragged me here, but I’m very supportive.”

“The most supportive.” You agreed. “Alright, I’ll play. Let’s go.”

Steve locked up the car, the horn honking as the two of you walked towards the entrance of the mall. You led him upstairs to the movie theater entrance. You checked in with your tickets and the girls at the table gave you your commemorative popcorn tins and cups. Steve went to get the popcorn filled. You stood over by the soda fountains. He returned with a huge grin and a bucket of popcorn.

“Look at this! They’re so big now.”

You laughed. “How big were they before?”

“Little paper bag.” He chuckled and turned towards the Cocacola Freestyle machine, looking at the buttons with wonder. “Alright what is this?”

“The future of beverage technology.” You told him, putting ice in your cup and tapping one of the beverage options, opening up all the extra flavors before choosing yours.

Steve poked the Coke button and read over all the options before settling on Cherry Vanilla Coke. He snapped the lid on and put a straw in it, taking a cursory sip. He smiled. “Takes me back.”

“Got that vintage taste?” You asked.

He nodded. “At the risk of sounding like a commercial, yeah, it does.”

You led Steve to the theater where you’d be spending the entire rest of the day. You walked him through the schedule. First was Hunger Games from noon until 2:22. There’d be a ten minute break, then Catching Fire from 2:32 to 4:58. There was a forty-five minute break for dinner. Then Mockingjay Parts 1 and 2 until just after ten. Every movie, they punched a hole in your ticket, and if you got all four, they were handing out little prizes, supposedly. You weren’t sure what yet, but you were excited to find out.

“Got a long day ahead of us.”

“I better not catch you nodding off.” You teased, kicking back the recliner.

“I don’t snore that loud.” He said, following your lead and pressing the same button to lift his. God, theaters had changed. He set the popcorn tin between the two of you. He couldn’t count on two hands how many pointless dates he’d gone on with Bucky before he met you for the first time, how many pretty dames he’d offered popcorn, only for them to completely blow him off. But when he’d taken you to the movies back then, you’d shared gladly. And today was no different. You scooted closer, your hand brushing his every so often.

The movie started and Steve watched, enamored. It was different than the movies he was used to, sure. Maybe Star Wars had warmed him up, or maybe it was the fact that you were sitting there beside him, but he loved every second.

Between movies, the two of you went back out to the lobby to get your tickets punched for Catching Fire, stretch your legs and get refills. Steve noticed a handout for the flashback movies that were coming up. His eyes landed on the Wizard of Oz and his gaze softened.

“They still show this?” Steve asked, pointing to the poster.

“Yeah, every handful of years. It’s a classic.” You smiled. “I think I was Dorothy for Halloween one year.”

“Would you go see it with me?” He asked.

“Yeah, of course.”

Sure, things were different between you and Steve than he thought it would be. He knew it would be a while before you’d know. You’d told him you’d been friends for about a year before visiting him, but it felt so much longer, living through every day, scared to even take your hand without sending the wrong message.

You saved him the trouble, though, reaching out for his free hand. He took it without hesitation, giving it a squeeze. God, he’d do anything to kiss you, but he knew that would be stepping clear over that line. Holding hands was friendly enough. Hell, you held Wanda’s hand all the time and that didn’t mean anything. He was pretty sure, anyway.

“Where’d you go just now?” You asked, your hand his anchor in the moment, keeping him from drifting back off into the past again.

“Nowhere, I just…this is nice. Thanks for taking me out.”

“Thanks for coming with me.”

You went back into the theater, hand in hand, carrying your refills. This time, you’d gotten a slushee, and he had decided to do the same. You settled back into your seats, assuming your spots with the people you had been sitting near before. If anything, there were even more people in the theater for Catching Fire.

Steve took a sip of the slushee, looking over at you. “It’s cold.”

“Yeah, it’s ice.” You laughed. “Do you like it?”

He scrunched his face. “Ooh, brainfreeze.”

“You’ve gotta go slow.”

“Lesson learned.”

The lights dimmed and you grinned, looking back at the screen, missing the longing look in Steve’s eyes, admiring the way your face was lit by the glow. And in those seats, once again, he was that little guy from Brooklyn, watching a movie with his soulmate.

***

Two and a half hours later, the theater lights went up and you had forty-five minutes to kill until the next one started. You wandered down to the food court to get something to eat. 

“So what did he mean there’s no District 12?” Steve asked when you settled down at one of the tables. Shoppers walked all around, laden with paper bags full of goods. It was a kind of busy day, actually, but it was fine. You liked to peoplewatch.

“When the books came out, I had to wait a whole year to get the answer. I think you can handle the next forty minutes.”

“There are books?”

“I have them. You can borrow them. And they are even better than the movies, if you can believe that.”

“They must be pretty damn good, then.” He chuckled. “You want to shop around a bit? We’ve still got some time.”

“Oh absolutely. There’s a Lego store here.”

Steve grinned. “They have a whole store for those?”

The two of you finished eating, threw out your trash, and then walked down the hallway to the Lego Store. Steve browsed some of the boxes. There were a lot of cool things. Buildings he recognized, landmarks, things from movies he hadn’t gotten to watch yet. There were also flowers. Lots of flowers, and Van Gogh’s Starry Night. He could see himself building any number of them with you.

You were over by the minifigure bags, squishing them to feel which character was inside. Steve chuckled, but didn’t question your process. Instead, he wandered over to a rotating display of minifigure keychains. A few caught his eye, but more than anything, you did. That was, a keychain of you, in your suit, that eight-pointed star on your chest. Right next to it was him, shield and all. He chuckled and then grabbed one of each, heading towards the checkout.

By the time you caught up with him, he had already paid.

“What did you get?” you asked through your giggles.

“It’s a surprise.” He smiled, voice soft, eyes softer.

“Alright. Keep your secrets.” You chuckled.

Steve took your hand, walking back towards the theater. You got one last refill for the last two movies, got your cards punched, and headed back inside to finish off the saga.

***

At the end of the night, all the people who had been there for all four movies got a t-shirt, a Mockingjay pin, and a mini poster. Along with the tin and cups they’d given you, you’d say it was definitely worth the ticket price. You and Steve walked out to the car together and sat in the seats for a while before either of you spoke.

“Thanks for coming today, Steve.”

“Oh, any time, (Y/N). We should do it again sometime.”

“I’ll let you know if I catch wind of a Star Wars marathon.”

He grinned. “Oh please do. I’d love to see those on the big screen.”

He pulled out of the parking spot and drove off the lot. By the time you got back, almost everyone was asleep. Almost. Bucky was on the couch, watching something, volume on low. He looked up when the two of you came in the door.

“Fun time?” He asked.

“Oh, very.” You laughed kicking off your boots and setting them in your slot on the shoe shelf.

Steve plucked your keys off of your hook and, very efficiently, added his top secret Lego purchase to yours, the keychain of himself. 

“Oh my God.” You giggled, looking at it. “This is great.”

“We match.” He said, holding up his own keys, which already had the keychain of you on them.

Your heart just about melted. “We sure do. God, you’re giving my soulmate some awfully big shoes to fill, Steve.”

“Well,” he smiled, and suddenly, he was that little guy from Brooklyn again, at your height, in awe of the woman the universe had plopped directly onto his front porch. “I’m sure he’ll grow into them.”

Mr. Perfectly Fine

You had training early, almost all hands on deck. Tony was on a business trip, Thor was on Asgard. But otherwise, everyone was accounted for. Clint’s new recruit, Kate, seemed nice. She was twenty-three, fresh out of college, and really did have quite a shot. She might shape up to be a pretty good Hawkeye after all.

Scott and Hope were there as well. Hope was extremely skilled. You could tell she’d practiced for a while, knew her suit and the Pym Particles inside and out. And Scott was also there. He was nice, there was no question about that, but you could tell he still had a lot to learn about the crazy world he’d stepped into. Still, it was nice to have them around regardless.

Tony hadn’t officially inducted them to the team, and there had been no party announcing such a thing. You couldn’t help but wonder if he was waiting for someone. One more member, perhaps, before making it official.

You had been in…something of a mood since your little outing with Steve. It had been a blast, sure, but it had also been a reminder: Steve had a soulmate, in the past tense. There was a name on his wrist. And your bare wrist meant that it wasn’t you. You had a soulmate out there somewhere, human or super, whether you wanted them or not.

Steve was perfect for you. But you couldn’t have him.

And god, did it hurt.

You trained hard, hitting the punching bag that occupied what was usually Steve’s corner. He was there a lot, blowing off steam. Now you got it; it felt good to hit something. You spun, kicking the bag.

“You’re unbalanced.” Bucky piped up, walking over.

You looked up at him, watching his movements, but he didn’t mean any harm. Obviously he didn’t. He’d passed his mind-control test with flying colors. He was a free man now, and he was a lot lighter because of it.

“Am I?”

“You’ve gotta shift your weight a little, really plant that other leg.” He instructed, adjusting your body, hands gentle but firm. You could feel Steve’s eyes on you from across the room, but he didn’t come over. “Otherwise they’re gonna push you right over.”

“Well thanks. I appreciate it.” You said, giving the tip a try. “I haven’t done enough hand-to-hand.”

“We’ll get ya there. I’m surprised Steve hasn’t been working on it with you.”

“Yeah, I don’t know. Things have been weird since the Hunger Games.”

“I noticed.” Bucky chuckled. “I’ll talk to him. See what’s going on in that head of his.”

“It’s not his fault. I’ve been the weird one.”

“Oh. Need to talk about it?”

“No, I just…I need to work through some stuff.”

Working through stuff meant that after training, you went straight to your room, closed the door, and started listening to your angst playlist, spread like a starfish across your king-sized mattress. And that was how Nat found you almost an hour later.

“Knock-knock, I’m coming in.” She said, opening the door. “Hey. Why are you listening to Songs for Sad Bitches in here?”

“What? How’d you—?”

“Your playlist name is on the screen out here when you play stuff on the built-in speakers.”

“Embarrassing.”

“Happens to the best of us.” She shrugged, closing the door behind her and sitting on the bed. “So, why are we sad bitches today?”

“I can’t talk about it.”

“You can’t talk about it, or you can’t talk about it here?”

“The second of those options, yeah.”

She dangled your keys from her hand, the little tiny Captain America taunting you. “Thought so. Let’s get out of here. Kate hasn’t been to the mall yet and she needs to buy some more clothes.”

“Alright. I could go for some mall pretzels.”

So, for the second time in a week, you piled into a car and headed off towards the mall. This time, however, you were with your friends, Wanda, Nat, and Kate, not your unattainable work crush.

Wanda loved the mall. Seeing her that happy almost made your heartache go away. The four of you shopped around. You picked out a few new tops, some accessories, a cute bag, and it was a nice distraction until you passed the Lego Store. You got some pretzel bites and hunkered down in the food court with the others.

“Alright. Spill.” Nat urged.

Wanda offered a sad little smile and Kate looked up, waiting to see where this was heading. She was new to the team, which meant she was new to the drama, too.

“I don’t know, just…going out with Steve…”

“What, you don’t like him?” Nat asked, prodding.

“The opposite.”

“Then why are you all torn up about it?”

“Because I can’t have him.” You said, pushing a pretzel bite around in the cup of cheese. “He has a soulmate.”

“Had. In the forties.”

“Right, but…I turn twenty-five in what, like four months now? And then I get whoever and…I need to let him go before I get hurt, but I can’t.” You sighed. “Or before I hurt him, leading him on just to run off into the sunset with someone else…I just feel like shit about the whole situation.”

Natasha sat there with the perfect poker face, giving a sly little smile. “It’s gonna be fine. I promise. And if not, you’ve got us here to catch you.”

“What she said.” Kate agreed.

“It will be fine, (Y/N).” Wanda promised, patting your hand. “My birthday is first. Let me be the stressed one.” She let out an incredulous laugh. “I have a crush on an android.”

“Hey, if any robot has a soul, it’s gotta be Vision.” You said, eyes soft. “Obviously, he doesn’t have a mark, but, if your wrist has his name…”

“That would be enough for both of us.” Wanda agreed, nodding. “It’s weird. I know…I know he’s the one but I still have to wait. I wish if you figured it out early, the universe would just let you have it.”

Natasha looked to the rest of you, soaking in silence for a moment before taking off the cuff she wore around her wrist. “Alright, it’s been a secret long enough.”

“Woah, Nat…” You gave her a moment to back out, but she held up her wrist, letting the rest of you read the name on her wrist. Bucky. Her soulmate was Bucky. It…made a lot of sense, actually. The way he looked at her during training, the way she kept herself so guarded around him. “Does he know?”

“Unclear.” Natasha shrugged. “I, uh…Steve said he wasn’t sure. And Bucky’s memories are a little fuzzy. The Red Room tried to get rid of our marks. Said they made us liabilities. When I got out, they hadn’t found a way to do it yet. It showed up a few years after that.”

“Is that like…still around?” Kate asked. “The Red Room?”

“Unfortunately.”

The word sat on the table for a few long moments before you said, “What if we took it down?”

Something sparked in Natasha’s eyes and she met your gaze. “Elaborate.”

“I’m serious. The four of us,” you thought for a moment and then it clicked, “Hope.”

“Maria.” Natasha said, putting the pieces together herself. “I mean, that’s really all we’d need. Plus a location and a plan.”

“Oh my god, are we going on a mission?” Kate asked, lighting up at the prospect of her very first real mission.

Nat grinned. “Yeah, I think we are.”

I Can See You

Steve caught wind of Operation: Red Room before you’d so much as suited up. Of course he didn’t think it was a good idea. After your accident, he still saw you as fragile. You were fine. Your ribs were fine. They’d healed better than even Bruce had expected them to. Still, that look in his eyes said otherwise.

“I’m just not sure this is something you should be doing on your own.”

“We can’t bring you. We can’t bring Bucky. It’d be handing them two supersoldiers on a silver platter.”

“So you’re just gonna waltz in there instead?”

“Yep.” You replied, lighting a little forcefield around your fist and holding it up as evidence. “I can handle myself, remember?”

His eyes softened. “I know that.”

“Then why are you still fighting me on this? Do you seriously think Natasha would let anything happen to me? Do you think Wanda would?”

“What if they have something that disables your powers? Both of your powers.”

“If they did, they’d have used it already.”

He sighed, muscled arms crossed, pink lips pressed into a pout. “(Y/N)...”

“You’re not talking me out of this.” Not even with those pretty blues, you sneaky bastard. “Besides, it was my idea. I’m not leaving the girls hanging.”

His eyes widened. “It was your idea?”

“Well, it was a group effort, but I’m the one that put it into words, yeah.” You shrugged. “If you didn’t think I could handle being an Avenger, why did you recruit me?”

“I never said that.” His jaw clenched and he shook his head. “I just…I don’t know what I’d do with myself if something happened and I wasn’t there to stop it.”

“Do you trust me?”

“Always.”

“Then trust me to do this.” You told him, resting a hand on his chest. “And trust me to come back to you.”

He met your eyes, melting at your touch before relenting, “Okay. But be careful, alright? Promise me.”

“I promise. I always am. You guys should be here to hold down the fort anyway, in case they retaliate.”

He nodded. “Yeah, alright. I’ll be here.”

You walked down to the locker rooms and suited up, making sure everything was tugged tight, belt equipped with both real guns and stun guns. Natasha had told the rest of you there was brainwashing afoot with the Widows that were still in the Red Room. If you could help it, the goal was to get them out without hurting them. That was where Wanda came in. Her specialty.

You all loaded up into the jet, Maria Hill joining you as your getaway pilot. You hadn’t gotten the chance to work with her yet, so you were excited to. You rehashed the plan on the way. The Red Room was housed in a floating base, which was why it was so untraceable; it was always moving. 

You, Kate, and Wanda were on Widow duty. Wanda would dispel their brainwashing, and you and Kate would deal with the physical cells and deal with any guards standing in your way. Once the brainwashing was handled, Wanda would go with Nat to kill Dreykov himself, the man in charge who had escaped countless assassination attempts. This time, she wasn’t leaving anything to chance. Hope was going to shrink down and destroy the place from the inside, and once everyone was out and safe, Maria would fly you all to safety.

Ideally, anyway.

Steve saw you off, standing in the driveway as you flew off.

“Natasha wasn’t kidding. You’ve got him wrapped around your finger.” Maria chuckled.

“You could say that.”

At the moment, the Red Room was hovering over a suburb in Maine, nearing the Canadian border. Any closer and it would become an international incident. It had to be now. Maria cloaked the jet as it approached, hiding it from onlookers, obviously, but also, hopefully, from the Red Room itself. Though, their sensors were very advanced so there was no way of knowing until you got closer. That put you on edge.

So, instead, you turned to Kate. “First mission today. You ready?”

“Oh hell yeah. I’ve been waiting for this.” Kate nodded. She slung her quiver over her shoulder. “What was yours?”

“The local county fair.” You chuckled. “Though, I guess if you count my first encounter with a bad guy, it was at the mall, guy with a flamethrower and a dream. He is in jail now.”

“That is typically what happens when you dream of arson.” Natasha said, grinning. “Thank you all. For this. For coming.”

“We’ve got you, Nat. They did some pretty awful shit to you. Time to make them pay for it.”

“Speaking of, ready up, ladies. We are two minutes out.”

Power crackled in your fingertips. You were ready to go. Well, as ready as you could be.

Maria pulled up to the docking bay and the five of you got out. Hope lowered her helmet visor, saluted, and then shrunk, flying off into the vents. The other four set off in a linear path, up the winding hallways towards where they kept the Widows.

The hall was bathed in red light, dim. It set you on edge. Natasha led the way, motioning the rest of you on. You noticed as you approached each camera, it flicked off, the heads of them tilting down.

Oh right, Hope. Awesome.

You approached a series of rooms, doors all identical. They slid open when you approached, and sure enough, two dozen women came charging at you all at once, dressed in identical athleisure. Wanda waved her hands, red mist cascading down the hall, their eyes filling. It took a moment, but they all stopped, looking around at each other for some idea of what was going on.

“Natasha?” One of the voices in the crowd said, a blonde girl with wide eyes. “You came?”

Natasha nodded, smiling. “Of course I did.”

“You’re the Avengers.” The girl said, looking at the rest of you. “You’re really here.”

“Some of us. Come on, we’ve got a ship waiting.” You told her.

The girl looked at you and then back at Natasha.

“Go with her.” Natasha instructed. “I’ll be back in like five minutes. Tops.”

“What’s your name?” Kate asked, starting to lead the others back to the ship.

“I’m Yelena. Natasha’s sister.”

As you led them back down the hall, armored guards rounded the corner. You made forcefields at their feet, tripping them up. Kate shot arrows down the barrels of their weapons, causing a few small explosions. The Widows fought with you, taking out anyone that approached. Soon enough, you got to the docking bay, which exploded as soon as you approached.

You put up a shield between the rest of you and the explosion, blocking the girls from the flying debris. Okay, that put a wrench in things a little bit.

“What are we gonna do?” Kate asked, looking to you, the reflection of the flames shimmering against her skin.

“I’ve got an idea.” You said, approaching the opening carefully, wind whipping all around. Maria was still piloting the jet, doing her best to get close to the massive hole.

You made a platform with your power, curving it up at the edges, like a giant spoon. Slowly, you slid it across the gap to the jet. Maria got the hint, turning it around and opening the ramp. You made another platform and two of the Widows hopped in without hesitation. Slowly, you started the process of feeding them all across, two by two until everyone was in the jet. Everyone except you.

“Hey.” Hope said, landing and returning to full size, out of breath. “What did I miss?”

“Not too much.”

“Want a lift?”

“Why not?” You shrugged. Hope took your hand, flying you across the gap and into the ship. That just left Wanda and Nat unaccounted for.

You watched anxiously, waiting, waiting, waiting. Nothing.

“Hope, how long before this thing blows?”

“A few minutes.”

“Fuck.” You shook your head. You pressed a finger to your earpiece. “Nat, Wanda, do you copy?”

Radio silence.

“(Y/N), there they are.” Kate pointed. She really did have eagle eyes.

“I’ll get them.” Hope offered until an enemy ship opened fire.

“I’ve got it.” You said, channeling something deeper. Instead of making a bubble, you formed a tunnel of shimmering blue energy from the platform they were standing on to the back of the jet. “Hold her steady, Maria!”

“As steady as I can.”

A few explosions started at the back of the base, setting off a chain reaction. The two of them ran through the tunnel, its energy shielding them from the fire, the debris, and the rain of bullets. Wanda sped them along, until they were safe and sound, in the jet again.

Maria closed up the door as more explosions went off. You lowered your hands, letting the energy dispel. She flew off to a safe distance. The rest of you watched in awe as the Red Room fell, crumbling to bits, to ashes and ruin.

Yelena hugged Natasha, thanking her. Natasha apologized for not coming sooner. And the rest of the Widows were able to rest, breathing free for the first time in years.

***

The first stop on the docket was a SHIELD base in New York to drop off the majority of the Widows. SHIELD had a plan in place to get them back into society, integrated, rehabilitated, whatever they needed.

The second stop, of course, was Taco Bell, for refreshments.

The third stop was home, where Steve was waiting at the dinner table, chin resting against his folded hands, Bucky sitting across from him. He whipped around at the sound of the door opening. You, Kate, Wanda, Natasha, Hope, and Yelena were talking and laughing, laden with bags of fast food.

His eyes fell on yours first and it was like time stopped.

“How did it go?”

“Good. I got you a Baja Blast.” You said, setting the large cup of the teal drink in front of him.

He stared at it for a long moment before looking back up at you. “You…”

“I’m alright, Steve. We all are. And, uh, we have a new teammate.”

He finally spotted Yelena in the mix. “Oh?”

“Natasha has a sister.” You shrugged, sitting down and unpacking your order. “Apparently.”

Speaking of whom, Natasha walked up to Bucky, looked him in the eye, and said, “Barnes. Can I talk to you for a minute?”

“Yeah, of course.” He nodded, following her into another room.

“Wonder what that’s about.” Steve murmured, sticking a straw into the drink he kept staring at like it was a potion you’d plucked from a fantasy realm. You supposed teal was kind of an odd color for a drink…

You smirked. “I have some idea.”

“She told you?”

“Yeah.” You shrugged. “It makes a lot of sense. The way he looks at her…”

He nodded. “Like something out of a movie.”

“Yeah, exactly.” You sighed and then shook out of it, motioning to the drink. “Alright, let me know what you think.”

He took a first sip, holding it in his mouth for a second before swallowing. The smile on his face grew. “It’s sweet.”

“Too sweet?”

“A little.” He chuckled, going in for another sip. “No, maybe…maybe I do like it.”

“Uh-huh. Think about it.” You laughed.

Yelena sat down next to you. “Is this seat taken? I’m starving.”

“Have at it.”

“Alright, well, you girls have fun. I’m headed to bed.” He held up his cup. “Thanks for the drink. Glad you’re home safe.”

“Night, Steve.”

Yelena looked at you, wonder in her eyes. As soon as he was out of earshot, she said, “Oooh, tell me everything.”

You chuckled. “Where do I even start?”

Champagne Problems

Two weeks later, you got dressed for Wanda’s twenty-fifth birthday outing. It would be just the girls, headed to a club nearby. Wanda would turn twenty-five just after midnight and she didn’t want to be in the same building with Vision if she was going to get her heart broken. It wasn’t a bad plan, all things considered.

You were wearing a black dress, knee-length, form-fitting, paired with a dark red lip, and of course, the star necklace Steve had gotten for you all those months ago. You let your fingers linger on it in your reflection before throwing on your heels and walking out to the living room to wait for the others.

Steve was on the couch, watching the Muppets Movie.

“See? I wasn’t lying about Gonzo.”

“You weren’t.” He laughed.  He opened his mouth to make a quip, but it died on his tongue when he got a good look at you, eyes softening. “You got a date tonight? You’re all dolled up.”

“Huh? No.” You laughed. “It’s girls’ night.”

“Didn’t you just have girls’ night? I believe it involved several explosives.”

“Right, well, Wanda turns twenty-five just after midnight, so we’re going out again. This time hopefully with less explosions.”

“Ah.” He nodded. “Well, ya look great.”

You blushed. “Thanks.”

“You hear about Nat and Buck?”

“It’s official.” You grinned. “I’m happy for them.”

“Me too. They’ve both been through so much. They deserve to be happy.”

“So do you, Steve.”

He tilted his head, giving you that sad smile. “I am. Promise.”

The other girls came into the living room before you had the chance to respond. Nat was hand-in-hand with Bucky, who kissed her on the cheek before releasing her and joining Steve on the couch, grinning like he’d won the lottery. In a way, he had.

“Let’s get a move on, birthday girl.” Natasha said, slinging an arm around Wanda’s shoulders. “The night is young.”

She looked back longingly where Vision was hovering in the corner of the room. “Be back soon.”

“Text me when you find out.” He said.

“I will.” She promised, eyes brimming with tears.

You took her hand in yours, giving it a comforting squeeze. She squeezed it back, meeting your eyes and offering a smile.

The five of you piled into the car. Hope wasn’t coming because she was in San Francisco for the weekend, but Yelena was. She seemed determined to experience all the life she’d missed out on thus far. You couldn’t blame her in the slightest.

The club was lively, music pulsing loudly. There were lots of birthdays being celebrated, it turned out, announced by party hats, birthday crowns and sashes, and the periodic cheers of groups of people, yelling out in excitement when their friends learned who their lives were promised to. It was kind of magical.

You ordered a drink, downing it quickly and surrendering to the fuzzy feeling at the edges of your mind. You were pretty sure the last time you’d been drunk was your induction to the team. You remembered that night with Steve, how he looked at you, how it felt. And then you ordered a second drink, dancing to the music with the girls, trying to forget your worries, even if only for the night.

A guy approached you, a look in his eye. He eyed up your bare wrist. “No soulmate?”

“Not yet. A few months too early for that.”

“Then would you mind if I swept you off your feet for the night?”

“Sorry, I…I’m here for my friend. It’s her twenty-fifth.”

He scoffed, looking you up and down before stalking off towards his next victim. “Alright. Your loss.”

“Asshole.” Yelena rolled her eyes, taking your hands and spinning you around on the dance floor. You let her, dancing along. “I do not blame you, (Y/N). If I were you, I wouldn’t settle either. Not for that.”

You laughed. “Yeah, not my thing.”

“You’ve never…?”

“Well, a little. In high school, we used to have parties where we ‘practiced’ for our soulmates. It never got any further than a little spin the bottle, though.” You confessed.

“Ah, see, I’ve had practice. But it never meant anything. Red Room, bleh.” Yelena shrugged. “I am ready for something real.”

“How long you got left?”

“Another year.”

“I’ve got three and a half months.”

“So I’ve heard. I bet you are excited, being so close to it.”

“Excited, nervous.” You laughed, shrugging. “I kinda just want to rip the Band-Aid off, get it over with.”

“I’m sure.” She motioned Kate over and she joined the two of you, dancing to the beat. “Kate Bishop, how long do you have left?”

“I’m twenty-three.”

“Ah, well, then you have lots of time to party.” Yelena grinned, spinning her around. “We should really do this more often.”

You chuckled. Yelena had only been part of your little family for a few weeks, but already you could tell she was going to be a handful in the best way.

Eventually, you wandered back over to Wanda, who was standing in the corner of the room, nursing a single glass of Vodka Cran.

“Hey, birthday girl. You doing okay?” You asked.

She nodded, irises ringed with red, as they often were when she was stressed. She blinked a few times, forcing them back to hazel. “Doing great.”

“Wanda, whoever they are, they’re so lucky to have someone like you.” You took her hand. “Now let’s go dance and forget about it for the next hour.”

She smiled. “Lead the way.”

***

In what seemed like no time at all, midnight came. Natasha ordered a bottle of champagne and each of you got a glass. Wanda sat on a barstool, staring at her wrist. From right next to her, you had a pretty good view, watching with a racing heart as a string of letters appeared, darkening into existence.

The Vision.

She burst into tears, hitting the call button on her phone. He picked up on the first ring.

“It’s you, Vis! I knew it was you!”

The rest of you gathered your things, eager to reunite them as soon as you could. Your thoughts were racing, though. You’d never really thought of it before, but…your soulmate could be someone you already knew. Someone you were already in love with.

Someone who was already in love with you.

Maybe there was some hope after all…

The Origin

Only weeks after your night in the club, you found yourself in yet another bar. This time, it wasn’t for fun, though. You, Sam, Nat, Bucky, and Steve were undercover in a quaint little tavern in Alaska. A quaint little tavern that happened to be a front for Hydra, as it were. But that didn’t mean that everyone there was Hydra, just definitely the bar tender and the security guards that kept eyeing you up. Probably a handful of the patrons, too.

In addition to that, so were the flannel-clad guys at the bar.

“Hey, little lady.” One wandered up to you, bumping your elbows. “Can I buy you a drink?”

“I’m all set with this one, thanks.” You said, taking a long sip from your drink.

“Aww, come on, just one more?” The guy on your other side egged on. “Pretty girl like you deserves to have a little fun.”

The guys around them started getting riled up, trying to convince you to have another drink. Never had you been so glad to hear Steve’s voice.

“Sorry fellas, she’s taken. Come on, sweetheart.” You felt his hand on your shoulder and let him pull you away from the fray, back to his little corner. He had been growing out a bit of a beard for this. God, did it suit him. He rested his hands on your waist, face approaching your own, nose nestled beside your cheek. “You see anything?”

“Bartender has a gun under the counter. Intense code-protected lock on the door in the backroom.” You told him, masking your words with a smile, nuzzling your nose against his.

“I’ll get to work on the door.” Bucky said over the coms. “Whatever you’re doing is working. Those guys have lost all interest.”

“Perfect.” You chuckled. “Thanks for defending my honor.”

Steve smiled and it was breathtaking, the way his eyes sparkled in the warm light. “Anytime.”

You really couldn’t help yourself. You couldn’t even blame it on the alcohol; there hadn’t even been any. It was a virgin drink. Your arm wound around his neck, pulling him in so you could kiss his cheek. His arms wrapped tight around you and he buried his face in your neck to hide his rosy cheeks, laughing.

Once again, that line between your cover and your feelings began to blur.

“Alright, I’m in.” Bucky said. “Feel free to join us whenever.”

“Coming.” Steve murmured, a hand moving the hair out of your eyes. He pressed a long kiss to your forehead, sending your heart into a frenzy before taking your hand and leading you to the backroom, where Bucky and the others were waiting.

“You were born for undercover work, (Y/N).” Natasha said, giving you a smirk and a friendly nudge.

“Yeah, I don’t know about that.” You laughed. “It’s kind of fun, though.”

The five of you walked down the tunnel. When you finally reached the main room, it was kind of dark. You lit your fist with blue energy, using it to find a lightswitch. There were several computers that flashed to life, a wall of weapons, and also, a wall of screens. There was a little electrified cell, but it was empty. No captives, as far as you could see.

You started looking around while Natasha backed up files to a hard drive. Bucky watched the entrances. Sam looked over the weapons, taking notes of the ones that were out of the ordinary. Steve stared at the screens, mesmerized by…something.

“Um, (Y/N)?” He asked, motioning you over.

You looked up at the images. They were all of you. Pictures of you in the field, diagrams of your anatomy, hospital records, your birth certificate. There were illustrations of you, and a few fields marked as unfulfilled: blood sample, soulmate information, DNA.

Beneath it was written Planet of Origin: Illustria

“What the actual fuck.” You said, voice flat, staring at the word. You’d never heard it before. Not even with the recent discoveries about space and the wider universe. Thor, your only connection to space, had never mentioned it. Yet, for some reason, Hydra had reason to believe you were connected to it.

“Company.” Bucky announced, readying his gun as a group of Hydra agents stormed down the tunnel. 

A section of the wall slid open and a scientist-looking man stepped into the space. Steve threw his shield, bouncing it off of three surfaces before it came back to him. The man made a run for it, but you lit your fists and ran after him. Steve followed after.

Once you were both through, the wall slid shut. On the other side, you could still hear the sounds of the fight. They needed you. But you needed answers. It was an impossible choice, made easier when he started talking.

“Ah, the Girl from Space and the Man Out of Time. How nice to have you both here in one place.”

“What the hell are you talking about?” You said, fists clenched, eyes glazed over with raw power, glowing like Wanda’s did.

He laughed. “You didn’t know? Your commerades didn’t tell you? Surely they must have seen the suppressor in your neck when they were running all those tests.”

Your world came crashing down. “The what?”

“Your parents paid us to put it there. Paid SHIELD, at least, but, we’ve been one in the same for a long time. Didn’t know how to handle their little alien girl, especially at her full power, on a planet that wasn’t their own. They should have known you’d outgrow it eventually.” He tsked. “Of course, I could always take it out for you.”

“You touch her, you die.” Steve said, voice as smooth as steel. It sent a chill down your spine. “I’m warning you.”

It made sense. It was like a switch had been flipped when you were in college, your powers coming from seemingly nowhere. They’d been suppressed all your life, but finally, the suppressor stopped working. You hadn’t even known it was there. Maybe that was why you’d been stopped at so many airports.

“Not to worry Captain, I was on my way out of here anyway.” He raised his hands and started walking towards an exit tunnel.

You raised yours, making a cuff of energy around his wrist, holding him in place.

“No, you get to answer to SHIELD.” You told him. “And then you get to answer to me.”

Steve used his shield to knock the guy out with one quick, precise throw. The door behind the two of you slid open, Natasha pushing it open. There were downed Hydra agents all over the floor behind her.

“Having a party without us?”

“Something like that.” You mumbled, heart still racing.

“I got the files, (Y/N).” She said, playful demeanor falling immediately. “We’ll figure it out.”

Steve lugged the scientist over his shoulders, handing him off to the SHIELD agents who had come to help, one of whom happened to be one of the guys who was hitting on you at the bar. Go figure. Bucky and Sam joined the three of you. Sam put a hand on your shoulder and offered a supportive smile.

You still felt numb.

***

You got back to the safehouse and the snow outside doubled, coming down in droves, thick snowflakes and heavy winds. It was safe to say you would not be making it back to the Compound tonight.

You changed out of your bulletproof gear and into a tank top and sweats, running a hand through your hair. You met your eyes in the reflection, noticing how they flickered blue. In the other room, you could hear the video call finally go through with Tony and Bruce, who were back home.

“Oh don’t give me that look, Rogers.”

“Well, can you blame me?”

“What, like you’ve never kept a secret ever in your life, give me a break!”

“About her life, Tony!”

“I’ll get her.” You heard Natasha tell him, and then heard her footsteps approaching the bathroom door. She knocked. “Hey, they’re on. I made you some cocoa.”

You opened the door, letting out a sigh and nodding. “Thanks, Nat.”

She smiled, patting your shoulder and leading you out to the couch. Tony and Bruce were sitting in the living room on the screen. Steve had been pacing, obviously, given his stance and the fact that he was still standing.

You sat down, making eye contact with each of them, lips pressed into a flat line. Your heart raced, chest aching, stomach on fire from the adrenaline of it all. “So?”

Tony sighed. “You’re an alien.”

“Half.” Bruce amended. “On your mother’s side. She’s from a planet called Illustria.”

“Uh-huh, yeah. I got that part. How long have you known?”

Bruce looked at Tony, hoping he’d deliver that part of the news. He did. “I’ve known since you were recruited. Fury did a background check. You were already on the files.”

“What about the suppressor?”

“We didn’t know what it was. We didn’t know what taking it out would do to you.” Bruce admitted. “We thought you knew it was there.”

“I want it out.” You said with certainty. “I want it out as soon as we get home.”

“Are you sure?” Bruce asked.

“I’ve never been more sure about anything in my life. I want to know who I am. That starts with knowing what I’m actually capable of.” You sighed. “And call Thor. I have questions I need answered. His alien friends might know.”

“Anything else?” Tony asked.

“Who else knew.” It wasn’t a question, it was a demand.

“Just me and Fury,” he said, but you couldn’t tell if he was lying or not.

“And Hydra.” You snapped. “What, are you afraid of me? Had to keep a lid on my powers because you’re so fucking obsessed with control?”

Tony scoffed. Clearly, you’d struck a nerve. “That’s not it.”

“Then why didn’t you tell me?”

“I didn’t know how you would take it.”

“Okay well, I think I would have been okay hearing it from a friend, in a place I felt safe. I had to hear about it from Hydra. They had a fucking cell with my name on it.” You said, trembling as you remembered it, tucked away in the corner there. That was the only explanation for it, really. And then something else clicked, too. “That…that day when Steve got tranq’ed. They weren’t trying to hit him, they were trying to hit me. He jumped in the way. They’ve…been trying to take me this entire time.”

“Oh my god, Tony…” Natasha said, voice quiet.

“Get those files to me, Nat. I’ll take a look. See if they have anything on the suppressor so I can take it out when you get back.” Bruce said, eyes soft. “And I’m sorry, for the record.”

“It’s not you I’m mad at.”

“Kid, please don’t—”

You cut Tony off with a click of the remote, hanging up the call. You let out a shaking sigh, setting the remote down. Your fingers were trembling. You took a few breaths, lungs heaving. You wanted to scream. You needed to let it out.

Everyone else on the team knew why they were there. Every other person in your life knew what made them special. Wanda’s power came from the Mind Stone, Steve’s came from the Serum, Tony’s came from his massive fucking ego. They all got the privilege of their origin story.

All of them except for you.

You needed to call your parents, if you even could. They’d told you they were moving to Florida. Now you wondered if they’d moved off the planet.

“You gonna be okay?” Sam asked, eyes trailing you as you paced through the room towards the door.

“Nope.” You walked out to the other den, burying your face in your arms, sobbing for a few minutes until you got it all out, or most of it anyway. Eight months. Eight fucking months he’d known you and didn’t think to tell you.

The chip in your shoulder burned.

You began to seriously wonder if anyone else had known. Bruce had run all those tests, surely he had seen something. He’d told you there were abnormalities, but he’d assumed they were from your powers, not the cause of them.

Steve crossed your mind briefly, but you shot that down pretty quick. He, of all people, would never keep a secret like that from you. You knew him well enough to know that.

Aside from that, the only real suspect you had was Vision. He had been JARVIS once, surely he still had some of that database in his mind. You’d give him the benefit of the doubt. For now.

“Hey.” Even before you looked up, you could tell Steve would be leaning in the doorway, that lovelorn look on his face. You were right, obviously.

Tears welled in your eyes. “Steve.”

He crossed the room, collecting you in his arms, hands rubbing comforting circles on your back. You surrendered to him, crying into the fabric of his crewneck, face tucked into the crook of his neck. One of his hands cradled your head, smoothing over your hair comfortingly.

“I’m sorry. I didn’t know.” He rumbled, voice deep and soothing. “I would have told you.”

“I know you would.” You sniffled, gripping him like a lifeline, your anchor in the storm. You pulled away to meet his eyes. “I feel so stupid for crying about it.”

He shook his head. “It’s not stupid. I would, too.”

“Like it’s fine. Aliens are cool. T-Thor is cool.” You sniffled again, more tears running down your cheeks. “I’m fine with being one, I just…”

“You’re still (Y/N).” He asserted, a gentle thumb wiping your tears away. “You’ve always been able to do these amazing, beautiful things. Now we know why. And maybe there’ll be even more things you can do with that thing out of your neck.”

“Yeah…” You nodded. You took a deep breath. “I’m really glad you’re here, Steve. I don’t know what I’d do if you weren’t.”

He pulled you back into his arms to hide the look on his face. “I’ve got you. Always. We’ll figure it out.”

***

Hours later, you were curled up on the couch, asleep. Despite the fireplace raging with fresh-chopped wood, you were still shivering, pulling the blankets around yourself as tight as you could.

Steve watched you from the dining table, forlorn. Natasha nudged him, motioning towards you. He shook his head. He couldn’t. Right? What, take advantage of you in your vulnerable state?

Bucky seemed to agree with Nat, grinning into his mug of coffee. Of course they agreed. They were soulmates, after all. Just like you and Steve. 

The mark on his wrist seemed to thrum when he thought about it.

Relenting, Steve got up off of his seat, walked towards the fireplace and adjusted the logs, adding another small one for good measure. He looked back at the others, who were silently, but aggressively, encouraging him to go over to you. Sighing, he did.

He knelt down in front of you, clearing his throat, which caused you to jolt awake.

“Is everything okay? Are we under attack?”

Steve chuckled. “No, uh, we’re all good. Are you cold? You’re shivering.”

“Kind of, yeah.” You admitted. “I’ll be okay, though, I promise. I’ve always been kind of cold. Must be an alien thing…”

“Do you…want some company?” He asked, unsure of how to word it. “I…run warm.”

“Do you mind?” You asked, sitting up a little and raising the blankets you were under.

His heart raced. “Here, um…” He wiggled in underneath you, letting you lead as the two of you settled.

“God, you do run warm.” You hummed, all but collapsing against him, a hand flat against his chest while you adjusted.

“I didn’t always.” He said, voice sincere. “Buck and I used to have to share a bed in the winter. It was brutal.”

“Sounds like it.”

“Yeah, he snores.” Steve joked, earning a laugh.

“Oh I know. I can hear him three doors down back home.”

“And I can hear you from the other room!” Bucky called, sending you and Steve into a fit of giggles, like kids at a sleepover. “It’s a small cabin!”

You heard him and Sam devolve into a bickering match about the truth of whether or not Bucky actually snored that loud.

You looked up at Steve, asking “is it okay if I put my arm here?” while carefully draping an arm across him.

“Yeah, of course. Get comfortable.” He nodded, leaning against the pillows and pulling the blanket up around your shoulders.

You rested your head on his firm chest, listening to the way his heart was racing. Cute.

“We could, uh, put on some music if you want.” Steve suggested. “I’ve still got that playlist on my phone.”

“Which one’s your favorite?” You asked, voice soft, curious.

“Timeless.”

“I thought it would be.” You smiled, meeting his eyes, which sparkled in the light of the fire. “You’re so timeless, Steve Rogers.”

He grinned. “You think so? You don’t think I’m a fossil like everyone else?” he said, quoting Natasha and Tony and many others who equated him to some dinosaur because of his accident.

“Not even close.” You shook your head and sighed. “This might be the wrong thing to say, but…I’m really glad you’re here. Your life could have looked a lot different, but I’m really glad you ended up in mine.”

It took every ounce of his being to hold in his tears when you said it. If he could have confessed then and there, he would have. He would have kissed you square on the lips, told you he loved you, that he always had, that you weren’t some accident, you were his destiny. Always had been.

Instead, he had to settle for, “I’m getting used to it, but I am, too. I’m really glad I found you that day, (Y/N).”

“Me too.” You smiled, readjusting your cheek against his chest, letting out a long breath. “Goodnight, Steve.”

“Night.”

His warmth lulled you to sleep after a long, emotional day. Never had you felt so safe and protected. It was easy to feel that way in the arms of a supersoldier, you supposed, thoughts meandering until there weren’t any left. You were asleep in minutes, breaths slow and long and even.

Once he was absolutely sure you were out, Steve pressed the gentlest kiss to your forehead, grateful beyond words to have you in his arms again, grateful you were safe, grateful you were his.

Even if you didn’t know it yet.

***

The next morning, sunlight streamed through the sliver of a gap in the curtains, right into your eyes. You blinked a few times, trying to figure out why the mattress was moving. And then you remembered. Steve.

The supersoldier was still asleep, breaths long and slow, those thick, gorgeous eyelashes resting against his sharp cheekbones, lips impossibly pink. His muscled arm wrapped tight around your waist, the other settled on the couch.

Your eyes wandered to the band on his wrist. It was out of place slightly, the edge almost crooked enough to read the letters etched onto his skin. Almost.

There was a part of you that was tempted to look. To nudge it aside the tiniest bit, say it was an accident, and finally know who it was that had been holding his heart in their hands for the last seventy or so years.

But you couldn’t do that to him. He trusted you enough to hold you while he slept, while he was the most vulnerable. You respected him too much to do that. So instead, you adjusted slightly, closing your eyes again.

“(Y/N).” Natasha said from the doorway of the kitchen.

“Hmm?” You replied, eyes opening again.

She eyed up the two of you, grinning. “Cute.”

You chuckled. “Thanks.”

“Got those files sent to Bruce. He doesn’t think it’ll be a problem getting that thing out of you. Won’t even have to put you under.”

“Cool.” You nodded. “Is it…like right between my neck and my shoulder? On the right side?”

“That’s where it is on the diagrams, yeah.”

“Okay. Thought so. I get pain there sometimes.”

“During training?”

“Yeah. I didn’t think it was anything serious. Thought it was like a pulled muscle or a pinched nerve or something.”

“You never said anything.” Steve murmured, blinking awake. “You were in pain that whole time?”

“No. It comes and goes. Mostly when I try out new stuff.” You said, still planted on his chest, looking up at him.

He smiled. “Morning.”

“Morning. How’d you sleep?”

“Really well, actually. How did you sleep?”

“Like a fucking rock.” You grinned. “You weren’t kidding about running warm. Thanks for sharing.”

“Anytime.”

“Let’s get a move on, team.” Sam said, walking out from the bedrooms down the hall, Bucky not far behind him, looking tired.

You reluctantly left the warmth of your shared cocoon, sitting up and stretching, brushing your fingers through your tangled hair. “Alright, let’s go get this thing out of me.”

Show Yourself

“Alright, so, this might hurt a bit. Are you ready?” Bruce warned. You were laid out on a table on your stomach, a curled pillow beneath your head. It was a bit like a massage, except Bruce had made an incision at the base of your neck where your suppressor was implanted. He’d given you some numbing gel and pain meds, though, so you didn’t feel much.

On the other side of the observation window, Steve was standing with Natasha, his arms crossed, eyes focused. Tony wasn’t allowed even in there, which pissed him off. He’d tried to get on your good side when you’d gotten home and you blew him off completely, which, Steve had to admit, was amusing.

And Tony definitely deserved it.

“I’m good. Go for it.”

Carefully, Bruce used his tools to wiggle it free from your flesh, setting off a chain reaction in your body. The wave of relief you felt was almost enough to put you to sleep, a refreshing, cool sensation rushing from your head to your toes. Power crackled between your fingers, and you could feel your eyes glowing for a moment, despite the fact that you couldn’t see your reflection.

Bruce moved to stitch you up, but your body did the work for him, mending back together on its own before his very eyes. He adjusted his glasses, sure he was seeing things. But no, the wound was healed, just leaving a little dried blood on your skin, which he wiped off with a wet piece of gauze.

“Woahhh.” You murmured, coming out of the trance. You blinked a few times and it felt like waking up from a college nap, the kind you don’t set an alarm for and then come out of in a stupor.

“You feel okay?”

“Yeah, I’m great.” You nodded. “Are you done? Did you stitch it up?”

“I…didn’t have to.” He murmured, still staring at the spot. He handed you the shirt you’d brought in and you tugged it over your head, staring at your arms, your hands. You didn’t look any different, but it was like every atom in your body was electrified.

It felt right.

Bruce opened the door and Steve and Natasha walked in, watching your every move.

“Wow.” Natasha said, grinning. “You look…”

“The same, but…more you.” Steve met your eyes, offering you his hand. 

You took it, letting him help you stand. Even his touch felt different now. Better. You settled, adjusting. It felt different, like even the gravity itself had changed. It would take some getting used to.

“I need to hit the training room.” You said with an excited grin. “You two are welcome to join me.”

“Can I watch? I want to take notes.” Bruce said. “From the observation booth, of course.”

“Oh yeah, by all means.” You nodded, leading the others down the hallway. A few others tagged along, Yelena, Kate, Wanda, who were all curious to see what you were capable of now, and just how much Tony’s lies had been holding you back. Sam and Bucky were already there and smiled when they saw you coming, Steve and the others in tow.

They cleared out some room, letting you have the space you needed. You stretched and then got to work.

First, you made a few forcefields. They still had that shimmer, like sunlight in a swimming pool, but they were twice as thick as they had been before. Steve couldn’t break them with his super-strength anymore.

You had more control over your waypoints and your portals, which, the more you used them, were becoming two different things. The waypoints, your stars, were a quick zip from point A to point B. Your portals, however, were more like a window that you could open and close, and took on more of a circular shape.

You were stronger, too. Nowhere near as strong as Bucky or Steve, but twice as strong as you’d been before, faster.

And then came the other thing. If you focused hard enough, and focused on the floaty, tingly feeling in your chest, your body started to glow around the edges, and at long last, your feet rose from the floor.

“Oh my god…” You murmured, lifting yourself from the tile ground. At first, it was hard to control, but you quickly figured out how to get from point to point, and how to hover in the middle.

Steve stared up at you as you hovered, fists lit with power, hair floating in the breeze you’d created. It was like watching the birth of a star, powerful and beautiful and otherworldly.

For the first time since 1943, he knew in his soul that he had to paint you, exactly like this. He memorized the moment in his mind, every detail from the streak of sunlight on your chest to the misplaced strand of hair on your forehead, the exact hue of your glowing irises.

“A picture might last longer.” Natasha teased under her breath, watching as you touched down.

“Yeah, I was thinking the same thing.” Steve replied, already picking out a color palette in his head.

“Holy shit…” You breathed, the glow dissipating as you returned to normal. “What a rush.”

“Welcome to the fly club, kid.” Sam said, patting you on the back.

“Thanks.” You grinned. “You’ll have to give me some pointers sometime.”

“Oh, anytime.” Sam walked over to Steve with you. “You see her up there? She’s like Superman.”

“I saw.” Steve agreed, arms crossed. “I think this calls for celebration, huh?”

“What did you have in mind, Cap?” You asked.

“Baja Blast?” He suggested, earning a laugh and a friendly shove.

“So you did like it?”

“It’s growin’ on me.” Steve admitted, that sly smile spreading. “Come on, my treat.”

“Oh I’m in.” You agreed. “Let me just take these monitors off.”

You turned in Bruce’s software, all of the vital-measuring instruments, cuffs and little sensors hooked to your arms and legs and chest.

“So, give it to me straight, doc. Am I stable?”

“Yeah, everything looks great. Vitals are great, heartrate is fine, if not a little elevated, but I’d assume that’s just from the adrenaline.” Bruce noted, looking at the numbers and charts on the screen in front of him. “If you feel weird, let me know and I can check things over, do some scans, but otherwise, it seems…you’re doing better than you were before, actually.”

“Alright, good to know.” You said, trying not to let his words hurt you. 

It was good news, it really was, but you could have felt this way for eight months, not two hours. You were thinking faster, processing things at better speeds. Hell, it even felt like you were breathing easier. Whatever that thing was that had been inside you, it had been sapping your health for your entire life. And now, you finally knew what it was like to be at a hundred percent instead of eighty.

Fuck Tony.

***

Steve drove the two of you through the nearest Taco Bell drive-thru to get snacks for yourselves and the rest of the team.

You ordered your regular, your Baja Blast, and everything the others had requested, running it on one of the team cards Tony had given you all. On the drive back, Steve had a question you didn’t really expect.

“Where do people shop for art supplies these days?”

“Jo Ann’s or Michael’s. They have a little bit of everything. Fabric, yarn, paint, beads, basically everything you could need. Why, you got a DIY project planned?”

“Something like that, yeah.” He grinned. “I don’t do much shopping, so I didn’t know where to start.”

“We should go sometime. I was running low on yarn.” You said, taking a sip of your Baja Blast.

“Make anything cool lately?”

“I’m working on a sunflower cardigan for Wanda.”

“Oh she’ll love that.”

“Yeah, she’s the one who sent me the pattern.” You chuckled. “It’s gonna look really cute on her.”

The two of you got back a few minutes later, a drove of hungry superheroes descending upon the paper bags you were carrying almost instantly. It was a welcome sight, a full table of laughing people. Your family. You felt a little different now, but nothing had changed. Not really. They still liked you, still smiled at you, joked with you, laughed with you.

So then why had Tony felt the need to hide it for so long?

***

Days later, Steve walked down the paint aisle of the craft store, picking out some brushes, some canvas, paints. He found the perfect one for your eyes, another hue for your forcefields. The amount of time he spent looking at you made it easy.

He smiled to himself. The little guy from Brooklyn would be proud of him, getting back into art beyond the sketches he did from time to time. It reminded him, though, that he needed to swing back to that antique shop and finally pick up the painting that had been waiting for him for so long.

Surely, he could keep it hidden until your big day.

Happiest Place on Earth

Being an Avenger often brought along unexpected adventures and opportunities. Today, that adventure was a theme park. Apparently, Disneyland was putting in a whole section in homage to the Avengers and Tony wanted you all to be there.

And though the two of you weren’t on the best terms at the moment, who were you to fight a free vacation?

You and Wanda helped pick out each others’ outfits for your day off following the grand opening. But today, you were wandering the park in uniform, side by side with Captain America himself, as you walked side by side down the street in the parade.

They’d tried to teach you all to do a little dance as you walked. The only one even attempting it was Scott, who was absolutely thrilled to be there. Supposedly, his daughter Cassie would be there to see him, too. You hadn’t met her yet, but Scott loved her to the moon and back. With him as a dad, she’d have to turn out pretty cool.

“Waypoint,” Steve said, motioning you over to see a little girl dressed not as a princess, but as you, your star shining proudly on her chest.

“Hey there, superstar.” You smiled, giving her a high-five. “You look great!”

“I want to be a hero just like you someday!” She said, her voice impossibly small. Impossibly innocent. It was a cute moment, but you couldn’t help but hope she’d never have to be. That someday, you and the rest of the team would get the world to a place where superheroes weren’t needed, where there was just peace. Where people with powers could simply be like everyone else.

“You already are, hon.” You told her, posing for a picture as her mom held up her phone.

You continued along the parade route and saw a couple. The guy was wearing a Captain America hoodie, the girl was wearing a Waypoint shirt. You wondered if Steve noticed, but didn’t have to ask when you saw his eyes lingering there, his mask all but hiding the faint blush on his cheeks.

A few teenage girls stopped you and you signed their autograph books, throwing something together. Despite your time on the team, there had never really been a time you’d been stopped for them. It was an odd feeling, being famous for something like this.

Steve signed with confidence, though. Sometimes you forgot that before he actually got to go out in the field and make a difference, he’d done a stint as a celebrity, touring the country to sell war bonds.

Someday, you’d bribe him enough to show you the videos, if he hadn’t already burnt all of them first.

“Are you excited for your birthday?” One asked. “I heard your twenty-fifth is coming up.”

“Oh! Yeah! I mean, I guess I’m more anxious than anything. It’s the big one.”

“You’re going to have every twenty-four year old in the country on the edge of their seat waiting to find out if they’re the one.” Another joked. 

You laughed along. “Yeah, I guess it’s coming whether I want it to or not.”

You were near the end of the route, so it wasn’t long after that you were off the hook to walk around a bit, get something to eat.

Steve turned to you, trying to sound casual when he asked, “You don’t want your birthday to come?”

“I mean, yeah.” You shrugged. “I’m not entirely set on the idea of pledging myself to some stranger for the rest of my life.”

“It’s not always a stranger.” Steve said. “Maybe you already know them.”

“That’s true. That would be…I mean, it would be better, sure, but…I’m pretty sure the only person I want it to be already has someone else.” You couldn’t meet his eyes when you said it, afraid of the answer, one way or the other, whether he finally said it outright, or if those pretty blue eyes said it for him.

You couldn’t handle the heartbreak.

“Wait—”

“(Y/N), we have time to hop on Pirates of the Caribbean.” Wanda said, swooping in to save you. She was really good at that. She took your hand and the two of you ran off in the direction of the ride.

Natasha walked up behind Steve, hand in hand with Bucky, who was nibbling on a churro. Obviously, they had heard the exchange.

“Fuck.” Steve muttered, shaking his head. “Well, great.”

“What’s going on, soldier?” Natasha asked.

“She’s gonna be so pissed when she finds out it’s me.” Steve said, voice small, as he watched you walk away. He waited for you to glance back at him. You didn’t.

“What are you talking about? Steve, she’s liked you for months. She listened to Songs for Sad Bitches when she thought she couldn’t have you.” Natasha reasoned. “Feelings like that don’t just go away.”

Bucky chimed, “Are we forgetting the night at the cabin?”

“That was three months ago.” Steve said, staring at his shoes. “I…I’ve been keeping it from her this entire time, hiding it from her, letting her feel like shit and stress herself out over it. I shouldn’t have gotten so close in the first place, but…I just can’t keep myself away from her. She looks at me with those eyes and I just…crumble.”

“I hear ya, pal.” Bucky said, patting his arm. “But you remember the look in her eyes at the bar that night? You remember the things she said to you? That (Y/N) is still a month away. She still has feelings for you. She still loves you, and she’s…she’s even excited to see the little guy.”

“She loved the little guy.” Steve agreed, smiling softly, remembering the look on your face when he’d found you, laying on his porch, the tenderness with which you’d whispered his name. In a world that constantly looked down on him, figuratively and literally, you were the first person aside from Bucky that made him feel loved, like he had something waiting for him.

Steve let out a long breath, nodding. Bucky was right. Back in the forties, he’d been the level-headed voice of reason, getting Steve out of the trouble his big mouth got him into. Even in the twenty-first century, he was still doing his damage control. In a way, he had missed it.

“Alright, now I know I missed some chapters.” Sam was on Steve’s other side, holding an ice cream sandwich, eyes wide. “When exactly were you going to tell me your soulmate is on the team?”

Steve chuckled. “Surprise?”

“Welcome to the inner circle, Sam. We’ve been waiting for you.” Natasha joked, wearing a grin.

“I mean, it explains a hell of a lot. Here I was thinking she was like…the grandkid of one of your old war buddies or something.”

“That’s what I thought!” Natasha agreed. She and Bucky finally filled Sam in on everything he’d missed over the past several months.

Steve’s eyes wandered back to that couple, dressed as him and you. They were holding hands, walking down the pathway, laughing, talking. They stopped for a selfie together in front of the Avengers Campus sign, which inevitably devolved into a kiss.

And in his head, he replaced them with him and you, carefree and in love in the happiest place on earth.

You’re On Your Own, Kid

Maybe, if you lied very still, you could convince the universe no time was passing at all. You were staring at the ceiling, flat on your back, the weight of the world resting flat against your entire body. No, against your soul, weighing you down.

Tomorrow was your birthday and you were not ready. Not in the slightest.

You let out a loud groan, forcing yourself to get up, to get dressed. You chucked your pajamas in your hamper, throwing on some joggers and a t-shirt, the old Star Wars tee you’d had since high school. It was a simple one, black with stars scattered across the fabric, the yellow logo emblazoned across the front.

There was a knock on your door.

“It’s open.” You called, not turning around to see who it was. You put on your star necklace, the one Steve had given you almost an entire year before. You tucked it under the fabric of the shirt.

“Morning. How’d you sleep?” Steve asked, leaning in the doorway, arms crossed, eyes searching.

“Not well.” You sighed, turning to look at him.

“I didn’t either when mine was coming. I swear I didn’t get any sleep for a week.” He said, eyes soft. “I, um, got breakfast. It’s in the kitchen. Those breakfast sandwiches you like.”

Your lips curled into a tired smile. “Thanks. That’s really sweet.”

“Of course. Whatever you want today, just say the word.”

You crossed the room, walking right up to him and straight into his arms. He held you to him, read resting against yours. For a moment, he questioned if it had already happened, if he’d gotten the days mixed up.

If you already knew.

“I just need you to hold me.” You whispered, holding in tears. You should have been excited. It should have felt like Christmas Eve. You should have been absolutely buzzing with excitement for the day to come.

But you weren’t ready to let him go, for everything about your relationship to change. You needed more time.

“I can do that.” He said softly, thumbs etching circles into your shoulders. “As long as you need me to. I’ve got you. Always.”

“Okay.” You whispered, voice breaking. The tears finally slipping down your cheeks. It was all you could say to keep yourself from saying ‘I love you.’

You ate breakfast with the others. Natasha could tell you had been crying, so after, she took you, Wanda, Kate, and Yelena out of the house. It was a welcome distraction. The mall was the perfect spot. It always was. 

“What about this one?” Wanda held another dress against you, imagining you in it for your birthday party the following night. Steve had taken it upon himself to be the entire planning committee, which was why he was back at the Compound with the boys, getting things in order. The only thing he wanted to have to worry about tomorrow was the party itself.

“Does it come in blue?” You asked, eyeing up the rack she’d pulled it off of.

“It does.” She smiled, putting the red one back in exchange for blue. It was sparkling, form-fitting, a little less formal than the one you’d worn to your Avengers induction, but it had the same vibe, just shorter and with a deeper neckline.

“Perfect.” You said, turning towards the dressing room. You handed Wanda your purse and slipped into it. It fit perfectly in all the right places. You did a little turn in the mirror, satisfied, and then walked out into the store again, where Natasha was nodding in approval.

“Alright, dress acquired, where to next?” Kate asked, checking the list she was keeping on her phone.

“I heard there is a Lego store here.” Yelena said absentmindedly, glancing out the door. “We should go.”

“Is that where you got Steve’s Millennium Falcon?” Natasha asked.

“Steve has a Millennium Falcon???” Yelena asked, eyes wide. “I want one.”

“I got it online. It was on sale.”

“I didn’t know Steve liked Star Wars.” Kate noted as you walked back into the dressing room to change back into your Star Wars shirt, ironically enough.

“Loves it. He’s a big nerd. Bucky, too. Buck’s more of a fantasy nerd, though. He’s super into Lord of the Rings.” You could hear the grin in Natasha’s voice when she said it.

“Steve said it was the first thing he watched out of the ice. Star Wars, that is. I don’t know if he’s seen Lord of the Rings yet.” You added. “And he’s talked about going to the Stark Expo back in the day. Vintage nerd.”

“Nice.”

Once you’d paid for the dress, you moved on to the Lego Store, where Yelena just about ran to the Millennium Falcon set to see it for herself.

“Lego typewriter.” Natasha noted, pointed at it. “Speaking of vintage nerd.”

“Oh I’m sure he’d get a kick out of that.” You laughed. Depending on how things settled after your soulmate bomb dropped, maybe you’d come back and get it for him. At the very least, you were pretty sure you’d still be friends after it all. And friends built Lego sets together.

“Hey, wait, there are Legos of us?” Kate asked, eyeing up the display where Steve had, you assumed, gotten your matching keychains. “This is news to me.”

“Let me see.” Yelena walked over and gasped, eyes falling on her Lego self.

Wanda smiled softly, head tilting as she looked at you. She rested her hand on your shoulder.

“It will be fine. To quote someone I care about very deeply: whoever they are, they are lucky to have you. Now, let’s forget about it for a bit.”

“Alright.” You agreed, letting her lead you over to the Build-a-Figure station, where you started mixing and matching the pieces. It was hard, but you let your worries melt away, at least for a little while.

***

Meanwhile, Steve was walking around the Compound with a clipboard, making sure everything was ready for the next day. Scott and the ants were helping put up the decorations. He’d sent Sam and Bucky to pick up the cake, and Tony had taken it upon himself to take care of the catering. A peace offering of sorts.

Steve was putting together the playlist for the party himself, hand-picking songs you liked, recommendations from Nat and Wanda, songs from Taylor Swift’s discography, and then, finally, a special song he’d been saving. 

Steve liked to listen to his records in the privacy of his room, away from the ears of members of the team who would tease him for it. They were forties jazz mostly, made the place feel a little more like home, especially when you weren’t around. But there was a song that he would soon share with you, as soon as tomorrow came. He hesitated to add it, but eventually, he pressed his thumb to the song, adding it to the playlist.

He closed his eyes, remembering that moment. The last song of the night before Val’s closed. It was one of the last times he had gone there.

“We’ll meet again, don’t know where, don’t know when…” The singer’s voice had floated across the room, words striking him to his core. He got chills, opening his eyes again. God, he couldn’t wait for you to know. Sure, he was a supersoldier, but he was pretty sure the weight of his secret was finally crushing him.

***

You retreated to your room when you and the girls got home. It was kind of late. You’d decided to catch a movie while you were out. You didn’t mind. You were beyond ready to go to sleep and just…get it over with.

Off with the Band-Aid.

“Where’s (Y/N)?” Steve asked, finding Natasha and Kate in the dining room.

“She went to her room for the night.” Kate replied innocently.

“Alright.” He nodded. “How was she doing?”

“Not great.” Yelena said, already into the box of the Lego set she’d settled on. “I mean, she’s like fine. Just…kinda sad.”

“Quiet.” Wanda agreed. Vision had his arm around her.

“Okay, well…” Steve put his hands on his hips, thinking. What was the harm in telling them now? Warning the rest of them what they’d be waking up to tomorrow. “Vision, can you round up the others?”

“Of course.” Vision nodded. “To be clear, I am to leave out (Y/N)?”

“Yeah. Yeah, everyone but (Y/N).” Steve confirmed, leading the others upstairs to one of the lounges. He sat on the couch, mouth resting against his hands, elbows on his knees. Tony sauntered in, followed by Bruce. The rest of the team filed in one by one, finding seats, staring at Steve, waiting for answers.

“So, um, thanks for coming everyone.” Steve said, meeting their eyes.

“Uh, Cap, we’re missing (Y/N).” Clint said, looking around.

“That’s the idea.” Natasha replied.

“Is this a party planning meeting? Do the decorations look okay? I really thought the ants did a good job.” Scott said.

“They did a great job.” Steve reassured him, taking a moment to collect his words. “So, as you all know, tomorrow is (Y/N)’s twenty-fifth birthday. And…I need to finally come clean. I’m her soulmate.”

“Okay, now that I did not know.” Tony said, meeting Steve’s eyes. “Your long lost love is one of our housemates?”

“Tony.” Nat shot him a look.

“No, I’m serious. I’m just…I’m relieved is all.” Tony admitted with a sigh. “I…the reason I didn’t tell her is because I didn’t know if Illustrians…I didn’t know if she’d have one. I figured…” He shook his head, staring at the floor. “I didn’t want to bring her down when it was so close.”

Steve took off the cuff on his wrist, finally finally showing him the mark that had been there since his twenty-fifth birthday in 1943. Your name, written in your neat, careful handwriting, first, middle, and last.

“Why not tell her, then?” Kate asked. “Why haven’t you told her?”

“That’s a little more complicated.” Steve thought. “When I turned twenty-five…she was there. In a few hours, when she goes to sleep, she’s headed to the forties to see…well, me, before the serum. I don’t know how or why, but…when she got there, she didn’t know. I didn’t want to risk changing anything. Butterfly effect and all that.”

“Time travel?” Bruce asked, eyes bugging out of his head. “You are just casually telling us that time travel exists.”

“I guess so.”

“Woah. Bruce. We’ve got some tests to run.” Tony said.

“Oh I am already taking notes in my head.”

The meeting ended shortly after that. The rest of the team gave him supportive words and smiles, but Tony’s were the most poignant. 

“I don’t know what you’re still doing here, Rogers. Go see her off.”

“Right. Yeah. I’ll see you tomorrow.”

“Good luck, Steve.”

“Thanks, Tony.”

***

You closed the door after Steve left, listening to his footsteps retreat down the hall, steady and even. You let another tear roll down your cheek. All of the crying was exhausting. You just wanted to be done with it.

You sat on the bed, taking off your bra and chucking it across the room, laying back to relax and, hopefully, get some sleep.

The exhaustion must have been helping, because as soon as you closed your eyes, you felt the drifting start. It was strong and immediate, pulling you down through the mattress. You felt like you were floating and falling at the same time, limbs tingling. Your eyes shot open when you realized what was happening, but it was already too late.

And then everything went white.

Right Where You Left Me

In 1943, you walked hand in hand with your soulmate down the sidewalk, through Steve’s favorite park. It happened to be a shortcut between his favorite diner and the local theater. He liked to sit there sometimes, sketch couples walking by. Never had he imagined he’d be one of the couples someday.

For the past week, he’d about worried himself sick. He’d barely slept, he’d had no appetite, he’d had the worst art block of his life. Every time he fell asleep, he had dreams of finding his soulmate, only for them to be some pretty but shallow girl who didn’t want anything to do with him. He had nightmares of a grayed out mark like Bucky’s, or worse, no mark at all. Which is why when he’d run out that morning to get the mail, he hadn’t even checked yet.

Part of him didn’t want to.

And then he’d found you out there, laying under the mailbox.

And now, he was holding your hand. 

You caught his eyes, grinning. He smiled back, heart racing. Gosh, maybe he needed to sit down.

“Hey, could we sit for a minute?” He asked, motioning to the bench beside the path and trying his best not to sound out of breath.

“Yeah, of course.” You agreed, following him and sitting down beside him, hand still clasped tight in yours. “Do you have an inhaler?”

“What’s an inhaler?”

“Shit, right, they probably haven’t been invented yet…” You murmured, pulling your lip between your teeth. “Are you okay? Do you need anything?”

“You…know about the asthma.” He realized.

You nodded. “I know about all of it, Steve.”

He chuckled, shaking his head. “And you’re still looking at me with those eyes?”

“What eyes?” You tilted your head, innocent. “There’s no one else I’d rather be looking at, Steve. Just you.”

“Okay, now I know you’re not real.”

“Am I gonna have to spend all day convincing you I am?”

“You just might.”

You leaned in and pressed a kiss to his cheek, leaving a reddish mark there. “Oops. Sorry, let me—”

Steve grabbed your hand, stopping you from wiping it away. “Leave it. Bucky comes home covered in ‘em all the time. I’ve never gotten one before.”

“I am going to cover you in lipstick marks by the end of today.”

He grinned, finally standing up to keep moving. “Is that a promise?”

***

It was nearing the end of the night. Steve could feel his time with you was nearly spent. So he led you by the hand to the stairs at the back of the bar, the ones that led up to the roof. He’d found himself up there alone on quite a few nights, when the double dates Bucky set up inevitably crumbled.

It was a beautiful night, clear. The stars were out in force, dotting the sky in perfect constellations. In the distance, fireworks boomed. It was one thing he’d always loved about his birthday.

“Wow, this is great.” You murmured, looking out at the city. It was like you were living in a photograph, the old buildings looming in the skyline, vintage cars driving down the street.

“My favorite spot.” He explained, walking over to the railing.

“I can see why.” You let out a sigh, gripping his hand tighter, fingers laced with his. You turned towards him, looking at the smattering of kiss marks on his cheeks. You’d kept true to your word.

Steve twirled you around, pulling you closer, a soft, romantic smile on his face. “God, you are so beautiful.”

“Let me show you something.” You told him, drawing his eyes to your hand where you made a tiny, gentle forcefield, its blue light shining across his features.

“What…is that?” He asked, staring at the orb. “Is that how you got here? Where were you keeping it?”

You curled your fingers, letting the bubble fizzle away. “It’s not a thing. It’s part of me. Something I’ve been able to do since college. There are a lot of people like me where I’m from, people with gifts. Steve…after I leave, your life is about to get a lot weirder than time travel and forcefields. I can’t tell you how or why, but…”

“I appreciate the heads-up.” He assured you, smiling. “And I love you, too. I didn’t say it down there, and I know I just met you this morning, but…I…I love you so much, doll. I don’t know what I’m gonna do without you.”

“You, Steve Rogers, are going to do amazing things.” You whispered, taking his hand again.

“Says the girl with superpowers.”

“I’m serious.” You told him. “I grew up hearing stories about you. I wanted to be just like you. Brave beyond words, fiercely loyal. I guess it only makes sense that we share a soul.”

Steve grabbed your face with both hands, kissing you deeply, lips dancing against your own, heart racing, knees wobbling like Jell-O. He rested his nose against yours, breathing shallow.

“Careful, there. Don’t let me take your breath away.”

He shook his head, kissing you one last time before murmuring, “Oh doll, I could do this all day.” He glanced back towards the door, music from downstairs faint. He took your hand. “Let’s go back downstairs. I think they’re playing the last song.”

You smirked, following him. “I thought you had two left feet.”

He shrugged. “I’m a quick learner.”

***

After you’d disappeared, Steve felt hollow, walking slowly back into the house. Bucky was sitting at the kitchen table, absently reading the paper. He met Steve’s eyes when he heard his trudging footsteps.

“She left you something.” Bucky chucked the bundle of fabric at him and Steve caught it, holding it out in front of him.

Your Star Wars shirt. Shit. He hoped you didn’t need it for anything. “Uh oh.”

“Might fit you.” Bucky chuckled. “Obviously you can’t wear it out, but…”

“Yeah.” Steve agreed, eyes sparkling with tears. He held it to his face, inhaling the scent of your perfume like it was oxygen. “God, I miss her.”

“I know, pal. It’ll be alright. I know it doesn’t seem like it now, but it will be.” Bucky’s eyes fell to the grayed out mark on his own wrist, so faint it was barely legible. “You just gotta take it one day at the time.”

Don’t Know Where, Don’t Know When

Your veins were on fire. The blinding white shimmered, giving way to…your ceiling. You were laying on your bed again, sunlight streaming through the window.

You blinked a few times, feeling flowing back into your limbs slowly. Your heart raced. You sat up, staring at your hands. Soon enough, your eyes found your wrist. The letters were still there, spelling out the name of your soulmate.

Steven Grant Rogers.

“Oh my god.” You looked up and met your reflection’s eyes, your hair still set in elegant 40s waves. Your pajamas were gone, replaced with the blue dress. Your lips were a deep shade of red, the same shade you’d left all over Steve’s face last night. A different Steve in a different time.

You let out a breath, standing up and walking towards the door, your new-vintage forties heels clicking with every step. You marched straight out to the kitchen, where Steve was sitting at the table, fiddling with his cuff. He was sitting across the table from Bucky and Natasha, whose eyes tried to warn Steve that you were approaching behind him.

“Happy Birthday, (Y/N). Um, how’d you sleep?” He asked, eyes widening when he saw the way you were dressed. His first love, in the flesh, just the way he remembered her.

“I didn’t.” You replied, grabbing his wrist and pulling him out of the room, snatching up the folding footstool leaned on the end counter as you passed.

“Good luck, pal.” Bucky laughed.

You just about kicked open the door of the conference room, skirt swishing as you did. You closed the door behind you, locking it with a click.

“(Y/N), listen, I’m so sorry I didn’t tell you, but—”

You unfolded the stool, getting up on top of it and pushing him against the wall. You crushed your lips against his, hands grasping the fabric of his shirt. He moaned into your mouth, frozen for a moment until the rest of him got the hint. His eyes fluttered shut, strong arms wrapped around your waist, head tilting as he deepened the kiss.

Your grip on his shirt weakened, arms looping behind his neck, holding him close as his lips left yours. He rested his forehead against yours, breaths ragged. He laughed, tucking his face into the crook of your neck to hide the tint of his cheeks.

“Not quite where I thought this conversation was gonna go.” He murmured against you, pressing kisses up your neck.

You reached for his left hand, fingers lingering against the strip of leather that was still hiding your name.

“You can take it off.” He told you, eyes sparkling. “It’s about time.”

Carefully, you undid the metal bit holding it in place and peeled it back, revealing your name etched there onto his skin, your handwriting unmistakable. You choked on a sob, tears slipping down your face.

“The whole time?” You asked, grabbing onto his hand with both of yours. “You knew the whole time?”

“I’m sorry.” He apologized, eyes falling to the hand you were holding. “I…You didn’t know when I met you. I didn’t want to risk…changing anything.” I didn’t want to risk losing you.

“I can’t believe…Here I thought I was your rebound.” You laughed, sniffling through your tears of relief. “I thought you were falling in love with me and I would be the asshole for getting a soulmate and breaking your heart. And it was me the whole time.”

“That’s why you were worried we wouldn’t be friends?” He asked softly.

You nodded, more tears falling when you remembered the way you’d felt day before.

“Oh, sweetheart…” He shook his head, wiping your tears away. “Honestly…I’m really glad we got to be friends first. Most soulmates don’t get that. It made me appreciate every moment with you even more. It was weird and hard, but…loving you was easy. Always has been. It was not telling you that was crushing me.”

“I can’t believe I didn’t put it together sooner…” You said, shaking your head. “All of those little moments…the reading chair, the Hunger Games marathon, the cabin…” Your heart ached remembering the night in the cabin. 

You remembered him sleeping against the wall in the infirmary after you’d been knocked unconscious, unwilling and unable to leave you alone when you were hurt. You remembered the bewildered look in his eyes when he thought you were dressed up for a date instead of Wanda’s birthday outing. The argument about whether or not you should go on the Red Room mission, when he was more worried about your safety than anything else, broken over the idea of something happening to you when he wasn’t there to help. The Lego set you’d spent hours building together, his hands so careful, fingers brushing against yours every so often. The mission in the Amazon, when the only thing he could think about while pseudo-drunk was you.

It was always you. It had always been you. 

“Steve…”

“Are we gonna be okay?” He asked quietly, watching you, searching your eyes for some flicker of disappointment. “It’s okay if you need time. I’d understand. It’s…well, it’s a lot to process.”

“I just…” You sighed, squeezing his hand. “I can’t believe I get to have you. I can’t believe you’re mine.”

“Believe it.” He said. He raised your hand, pressing a long kiss to your soulmark. “I love you, (Y/N) (L/N). I always have.”

“I love you too.” You confessed, earning that handsome smile he was so famous for. You couldn’t help but admire him, your supersoldier, the man that time had saved specifically for you. “I don’t need time. I just need you.”

You looked down at your new dress, realizing for the first time what it meant that you were still wearing it. You’d left your other clothes behind.

“Right. Before I forget.” Steve said, presenting a tattered, faded wad of fabric that had once been a shirt. “You left this at my place.”

You unfurled the fabric to find your missing Star Wars shirt, or what was left of it. You stared at it, dumbfounded. “You’ve had this the whole time?!”

“Took it everywhere with me.” He admitted. “Storming Hydra bases in Europe, Battle of New York, Sokovia, everywhere. I used to wear it, back when I was…you know, but it didn’t fit after my growth spurt. Sorry I couldn’t get it to you in better shape.”

“This is why you like Star Wars.” You realized, staring at it and looking back up at him.

“Yes.”

“Oh my god.” You laughed, shaking your head. You handed it back to him. “I think you need this more than I do, Steve. You can hold onto it for me if you want.”

He smiled, eyes soft. “You mean it?”

“Yeah, of course. I know it’s safe in your hands.”

Your shirt wasn’t the only thing that was safe in his hands. You were pretty sure, finally, that your heart was, too.

You stepped down from your footstool. Steve watched with an amused smile, chuckling.

“We had less of a height difference last night.” You reminded him, folding up the stool.

“I remember.” He reached for your hand and you gave it to him. He brought it to his lips, kissing each of your knuckles with care. “God, I missed this. I missed you so much, doll. Which is silly because you’ve been here, but…”

“I get it.” You reassured him, dropping his hands and wrapping your arms around him instead. 

He hugged you to his chest, resting his head against yours and letting out a long breath. You could tell he’d been holding it in for a long, long time.

***

Before you changed out of your forties look, Wanda insisted on a little photoshoot, which you were grateful for. Looking back, it would be fun to have pictures, even just as more proof that it had actually happened. Steve obviously sat in on some of the photos.

You asked some questions, of course, such as “who all knew?” The answer was everyone, but not until the night before when he’d finally come clean to the team. Before that, it had just been Bucky and Nat, and more recently, Sam.

Wanda claimed she had felt something, but never pried. Anyone could see it, though. Anyone with eyeballs. The way he looked at you had always been with love.

You changed into your dress for the party, necklace on display between your collarbones. You touched up your makeup a little bit, but left it. Bucky’s vintage lady friend had done a good job.

Tony showed up about an hour before the party was supposed to start, instructing the caterers. He stopped in his tracks, meeting your eyes with an apologetic smile. “Rogers tell you my side of the story?”

“He did.” You nodded. “And I appreciate you looking out for me. Kind of. In your own way.”

“And I am sorry, for the record. Maybe there would have been a way to bring it up without…you know.” Tony shrugged. “Happy birthday, kid. I’m glad it all worked out for you and the old-timer.”

You chuckled. “Thanks.”

“Got in touch with your parents. You were right. They’re off-planet. But I have their contact info if you want to…”

“Yeah, I’d really like that. Thank you, Tony.”

“Of course. I’ll get that all squared away.”

Steve walked up to you as Tony walked away, eyes landing on the necklace there. You realized, as he stared at it, that you’d been wearing it the night before. You hadn’t taken it off before bed.

“Is that what you meant when you said you had help picking it out?” You realized, putting the pieces together. “I thought you meant Natasha or something.”

“No, I uh…” He grinned, nodding. “I got a good look at it that night. You never said who gave it to you, but I figured it may as well be me.”

Steve was wearing a blue button-up, his nice black slacks that did everything for his legs. He’d shaved, combed his hair all neat. His hand settled on the small of your waist, pulling you closer to him.

You stood on your toes, hooking an arm around his neck and tugging him down for a kiss, lips melting against his. You felt his warm hand settle on your jaw, tilting your head just so. He smelled good, like his woodsy mahogany cologne. His breath was fresh, spearmint. And his lips were soft, confident but gentle.

His nose nuzzled yours, breath warm as it fanned across your cheeks. He met your eyes for a moment before pressing a kiss to your forehead, pulling you against him again. Now that he could touch you freely, he just couldn’t get enough.

“Bout time.” Bucky chuckled, walking into the room, Natasha’s hand in his. She looked great, wearing a nice red dress. “How are you two doing?”

“Great, Buck.” Steve replied, still not letting you go as he swayed. “I’m doin’ great. How are you, birthday girl?”

“It’s the best one I’ve had so far.” You said, echoing his words when you’d asked him the same question. You kissed him again, lips finding his easily.

He smiled, eyes sparkling. “I can’t believe this is happening.”

“Same here.” You told him. “I’ve had a crush on you since middle school. Imagine how I feel.”

“Middle school???” He asked, laughing.

“Yeah, why do you think I was crying at Air and Space Museum?”

“I was still in the ice!”

“Middle school girl crushes know no bounds, Captain Rogers.” Kate said, her and Yelena walking into the room next, more or less matching in their black dresses and purple and red accents. “I had plenty of crushes on old dead guys when I was in middle school. No offense.”

He laughed. “None taken.”

The party guests arrived in waves. The remainder of the team came, along with the extended family: Maria Hill, Jane Foster and her intern Darcy. A handful of your college friends came, buzzing about the prospect of being at the Avengers Compound, as well as the fact that you were an Avenger now, since most of them hadn’t seen you since that change had occurred.

You greeted them all as they came in, smiling and laughing and joking around like you did during the good old days. You introduced them to your new friends, your team. The playlist Steve had agonized over set the perfect tone. Some songs were upbeat and danceable, some were chill and slow, giving the couples in the room the chance to pair off and dance together.

During one of such songs, Steve offered his hand.

“Come on, let’s dance.”

“Like old times…” You murmured, hand sliding into his as he led you out onto the makeshift dancefloor.

Steve faced you, strong hand settling on your waist, the other still wrapped around yours. There was only one song it could be, of course. His favorite of the songs you had shown him thus far. He spun you around, face hovering just behind your ear, where he pressed a tender kiss before spinning you back around to face him.

“Even if we’d met on a crowded street in 1944, and you were headed off to fight in the war…”

“You still would have been mine, we would have been timeless…” You sang softly, meeting his eyes, the smile on your face matching his own. It was like Taylor had plucked the lyrics from your very heart.

“I think we kind of are.” He said, head nuzzled to yours, still swaying along to the song.

“Yeah, I think so too.” You replied.

When the song was over, Steve leaned in and asked, “Can I give you your presents now?”

“Yeah, of course.” You nodded.

He led you out of the room and down the hall to one of the conference rooms, where he’d stashed them earlier. There were four things waiting there. A medium box, a tiny box, and two easels covered with sheets.

He turned a chair around and motioned for you to sit, so you did. He handed you the bigger box first, and the infamous clinking sound gave it away before you could even get the wrapping paper off.

“Oh I think I know what this is.”

“I thought you might say that.” He chuckled. “I didn’t know if you had this one or not. I kept the receipt just in case…”

You tore the paper off to reveal a Lego set. It was Van Gogh’s Starry Night. “I don’t have this one yet. And I cannot wait to build it with you.”

“That makes two of us, doll.” He kissed your cheek, handing you the next present, the smaller one.

You tore the paper off to reveal a small velvet box. You gently lifted the lid and inside, there was a set of star earrings and a simple silver band. An eternity band, if you weren’t mistaken. Not an engagement ring, but it was a common gift for soulmates to give once they found each other, especially after they’d spent some time together.

“Oh, Steve…” You murmured, tears in your eyes. “They’re beautiful.”

“Can I?” He asked, kneeling down beside you and reaching for the ring.

“Yeah, of course.” You held out your hand and let him slide the band onto your finger. How he’d gotten your size, you didn’t know, but it fit perfectly.

“I’ve been thinking about doing this since 1943.” He confessed, hands lingering around your own.

“It’s still so crazy to me.” You sighed, shaking your head. You met his eyes. “You were in love with me before I even existed, before my parents were even born.”

“I know.” He nodded, pressing a kiss to your cheek, another to the corner of your lips. “When I woke up after the ice, I…I was lonely for a while. I spent a lot of days alone, learning, trying to figure out the new world I’d found myself in. I was kind of bitter. I didn’t know why it had happened to me…until I found you in the mall that day. And then I knew it wasn’t some accident. What happened to me was fate. You’re my destiny. Everything that happened led me straight to you and it was all worth it.”

“You can’t keep doing this to me.” You sighed, fingers intertwining with his.

“Doing what?”

You leaned your forehead against his, whispering, “Making me fall more in love with you.”

“No promises.” He laughed, kissing your lips and pulling you to your feet. “On my twenty-fifth, you said you didn’t know I was an artist and I promised I’d show you sometime.”

He pulled the sheet off of the first painting. It was you, glowing a brilliant blue, streaks of energy emanating from you like you were a star. Your eyes glowed, hair blew in the breeze. Behind you was a bright waypoint and zipping through the air was his shield, all of it captured in breathtaking oil painting. You wondered how long it had taken.

“This is so beautiful, Steve.” You rested your head against him, arm wrapped around his waist. “You made me look like a freaking goddess.”

“Well now you know how I see you.” He reached for the sheet covering the second painting, a little more careful with this one due to the age of it alone. “You might recognize this one.”

It was the painting from the antique shop, the soulmates dancing in Val’s. Now, with your new knowledge, you recognized them immediately. It was you and Steve. Always had been. Tears slipped down your cheeks and your hand covered your mouth, muffling your sobs. There was a time when you were afraid no one would ever love you as much as the blond-haired man loved the girl he was dancing with and it had been you all along.

But that little blond guy had painted it for you, not knowing whether or not you would ever get to see it.

You turned to Steve, standing on your toes to wrap your arms around his shoulders, head resting against his strong frame as you cried.

“I never stopped looking. Never.” Steve said, voice getting emotional. “Every base I went to, I met every nurse. At every coffee shop, I studied every college student in case you were there doing homework. Every time I went to the theater, I was scanning faces for yours. It became habit, looking for you. I…”

“You found me.” You said, pulling away to see his face. You brushed his tears away with a gentle thumb. “You found me, Steve.”

He surged forward, kissing you deeply, with a century of passion behind his lips. Your hand wandered into his soft blond hair, the other settling against his firm chest. His hands caressed your body, memorizing every curve and dip, lips chasing yours through every slight movement. And after, he pressed a dozen kisses to your cheeks, your forehead, your nose. You giggled, finally catching his lips again.

Your breaths were heavy when he finally pulled away; his, too. You straightened out the fabric of his dress shirt, pulling him back down for one last kiss. Then another. Then, really, one last one.

“I love you, Steve Rogers. Now, then, and always.”

“Now, then, and always.” He murmured, kissing you again.

The two of you cleaned yourselves up before returning to the rest of the party. You blew out your candles and made your wish, for an eternity side by side with him, that wherever life took the two of you, it took you there together.

You had a slice of cake and some ice cream, sitting on the couch next to Steve, legs draped over his. He used his thumb to dab a little frosting onto the tip of your nose. You smeared frosting across his cheek with yours, which made him laugh.

After, there was one last song before most of the guests would be headed home for the night. As soon as the instrumental kicked in, you got emotional. It had been your last song with Steve the night before, a song that had been written about those going off to war, their futures as uncertain as the stars were numerous.

For Steve, it held a different meaning. He’d known then that his time with you was running out. He had no idea when he’d see you again, just that it would be a long time and that the version of you he met wouldn’t even know him yet, that it might be years before he got to kiss you again.

And so, the two of you danced as you had the night before, on Steve’s twenty-fifth and on yours, your face tucked against his, his arms wrapped tight around you as you swayed gently to the music.

“We’ll meet again. Don’t know where, don’t know when, but I know we’ll meet again some sunny day…”

Tags: @cap-lu20

[aquidragon]

Compulsory

Rating: 18+

Word Count: 4902

Summary: There was no one you hated more than your ex-boyfriend Leon Kennedy, however, until he appears in your office after a long mission that changed everything.

Content Warning(s): smoking, reference to drinking, refrence to drugs, nsfw content, unprotected sex (wrap it before you tap it!)

(this is my magnum opus, I can die now)

---

You weren’t sure if there was anyone you hated more than you despised Leon Scott Kennedy. Even if you searched in the farthest corners of the universe, it would be hard for any living thing to somehow beat the burning, red-hot hatred that burned deep in your heart. 

You also hated that there was no one else in the infinite galaxy that you could love more than you loved Leon. His presence was like a drug, pulsing throughout your entire body, fueling you with aphrodisiac. Your nerves tingled at the thought of him, the hair on your neck stood on end in remembrance of his warm touch on your bare skin. The scent of sandalwood, refined whiskey, and  rust haunted your senses. 

You couldn’t get enough, you craved him again, you wanted to feel him rushing through your veins again. You needed him to feel alive. The burning desire to be dependent on him again weighed heavily in your mind, your body and your soul. It was why you loathed him, why you never wanted to see his alluring,  mysterious frozen ocean eyes again. 

Leon had shattered every effective piece of your heart when he walked away, when you demanded him to stay. It had been a cold, stormy night, your clothes were soaked to your bones as you screamed at him. Hot tears streaked down your cheeks, mixing with the freezing droplets that fell from the heavens. His eyes held the same empty, hollow walls that you had fought so hard to tear down. You had reached into the abyss of his mind, every secret, every memory, every emotion that he felt was once at your fingertips.

Before you could grab a hold, you were forced out by a violent tsunami. Sealing away what was once yours, for what you assumed to be forever. Leon Scott Kennedy became a mystery to you once again, a stranger whom you never knew. You thought you had known him once, as well as he knew you, but you were wrong.

You saw him sometimes, walking the narrow hallways of the DSO building, in between assignments. His blonde hair and square shoulders lingered in the corner of your vision like a ghost. Occasionally, you’d catch cyan in your sight, as you briefly met his eyes. For seconds, you remembered when you were his, before it all crashed down to Earth.  You’d tear your head away, cramming yourself in your work, unable to look at him any longer. You couldn’t bear the thought of him, a hot knife that tore through your chest, slicing you open; it made you vulnerable. Leon made you feel weak, powerless, similar to a deer caught in headlights. You hated him. You hated your own weakness. 

You even had asked to be reassigned to a new agent, within the Field Operations Support, which you had been granted. Not many people within the DSO knew about your complicated relationship history with Leon, most people assumed you were just best friends who had a falling out. Sometimes, you wished that they were correct. It would’ve saved you years of heartache if the nature of your relationship with your former lover remained platonic. If the intimacy you had shared with the blonde agent continued at a surface level, far above the trench that pulled you both down deeper. 

Maybe, you wouldn’t have drowned.

“Hey, did you hear about Kennedy's status?” The question that was directed at you felt muffled, your ears were underwater. You blinked, as reality set back in, and you turned to face your co-worker. Her perfect teeth peeked through her rouge-painted lips in a wide, ecstatic smile.

“Kennedy? He’s not in my detail anymore, remember?” You grumbled, finishing off the rest of your water bottle. “Why?” Ingrid Hunnigan was one of the few people who you told about your former relationship with Leon, who she often updated you about, much to your personal dismay.

“He successfully extracted Miss Graham, they’re landing back in the states in thirty.” She practically cheered, taking a celebratory sip from her hours-old  fast food soda. “The president is thrilled, I hope that means a pay increase.” Hunnigan sang her excitement, as Leon’s direct communication agent, his accomplishment reflected well onto her. 

“Congratulations, you deserve it.” You smiled at her, as you suddenly craved a cigarette.  

Her excitement began to ebb away as she rested a gentle hand on your shoulder. “I’m sorry, I know that talking about Leo-,” she hesitated, “-Kennedy isn’t easy for you.”

You chuckled, humorlessly, shaking your head. “I know this is a big deal for you, don’t sweat it. I’m fine.” You licked your lips, wishing you hadn’t finished your water. “You deserve a massive promotion, honestly.” You shut off your headset, stretching your arms over your head with a satisfied groan. “I’m going to have a smoke, I’ll be back.”

It was perfectly cool outside, you brought the paper stick to your lips, before beginning to light the white end of it. You had supposedly stopped smoking a year ago, alongside Leon, after creating a pact to quit. After you broke up, and an emotional breakdown at a bar, you gave into the compulsion. The hot, foul-smelling smoke fueled your lungs as you inhaled, and your built up frustrations rushed out with your exhale. “Shit,” you mumbled softly as you watched a familiar, private helicopter grace the horizon. You decided this warranted another puff from your cigarette, before stomping the butt into the pavement. 

Although you were no longer one of Leon’s agents, Operation Baby Eagle required almost every Field Operations agent to be on deck. You had attempted to call in sick, but your impending rent payment had other plans. While you didn’t have any direct impact on the mission, you were still required to visually confirm Leon Kennedy and Ashley Graham’s safe return from Spain. 

You were grateful you didn’t have to verbally confirm with them, at the very least. With a longingly sigh, you walk back inside the building, to get ready to head to the airstrip. You stand beside Ingrid, alongside the president and a large party of other people you didn’t know to welcome Ashley and her rescuer. You tapped your foot, impatient, and perhaps a little anxious as you watched the helicopter slowly lower to the ground. The wind whipped up from the spinning blades causes your hair to loosen from the hairstyle you chose to wear it in, as dust gets into your eyes. 

Within seconds, the aircraft’s blades slow to a stop, and the doors open. Leon exits first, his perfectly cut hair frames his angular face perfectly, his eyebrows remain in their permanent, serious position. You almost scoff at his overly stoic appearance, but you decided that that wouldn’t be very professional to do, feet away from the President of the United States. Ashley follows after her rescuer quickly, her shoulders slumped with exhaustion, but her face lights up in a smile at the sight of her parents. Without a moment of hesitation, she rushes into the waiting arms of her father, sobbing as they embrace her. 

You crack a smile at the sight, while Hunnigan is almost in tears. Your gaze shifts back to the blonde agent, who stands at attention a few feet away from you. Leon’s eyes are as distant as they always are, a solid cold blue, resembling ice. For a moment, you swore those same eyes met yours, but you weren’t sure. “Thank you, agent Kennedy, for bringing back my daughter safely. I’m forever indebted to you.” President Graham’s words are professional, while warm at the same time. 

“Anytime, Mr. President.” Leon responded, in a mostly friendly manner. You can tell that he was exhausted, based on the heavy ring of purple that underlined his eyes, as well as the subtle sag of his shoulders. A large, loud part of you wanted to rush over, wrap your arms around him to take care of him. Like you would have if you were here, a couple months ago.

Ashley freed herself from her mother’s embrace, looking up at Leon with watery eyes, a grateful smile gracing her youthfully pretty face. “Thank you, Leon.” She hugged him, her arms wrapping underneath his arms, as she buried her face deeply into his chest. 

“Take care, Ashley.” The blonde agent cracked a smile, returning her hug briefly. His head lifted to meet your eyes, and his smile fades. A pathetic, sad looking expression formed on his face, you smile anxiously, more akin to a grimace. 

“We can talk more about paperwork and such tomorrow. Tonight, all of you go home. Get some rest, you deserve it.” Graham orders, his stern facade returning. “Good work, thank you.” 

The crowd began to disperse, you yawn, as you walked back inside the building. You step into your office, as you begin to pack your stuff together, mentally noting a thanks to the president for gracing you with the ability to go home early. As you slid your bulky laptop into your work messenger bag, your door creaked open. “Hunnigan, I’m going home, we can go to Cowboy’s Tavern tomorrow. I’m fucking exhaust-” you look up, finally, and met the stormy blue eyes of Leon Scott Kennedy. 

“What the fuck are you doing in here, Kennedy?” You spat out his name like venom, as your heart faltered. You felt sick, as he shut the door behind him, his expression unreadable. “I’m pretty sure I remember that you made it clear you didn’t want to see me again. Ever.” You avoid looking at him, choosing to focus on the task at hand; gathering your stuff. “I thought we were in agreement there.” 

He tiredly mumbled your name, standing a foot away from you, on the opposite end of your desk. “I know what I said, just please, hear me out.” Leon’s voice is weak, raspy, as if he hadn’t had water in days. He pleaded your name, finally forcing you to look up at him, apprehension burning through your head. 

For once, in months, the frozen walls of his soul were gone. Leaving his blue eyes open, desperate, all of his feelings pouring out of his soul like a cascade. Your eyes widened, as your mouth fell open. In the brief time you spent with him, you had never seen him cry. Until that moment, in your office, standing before you with wet salty tears carved through the collected dirt on his face. His hands grabbed onto the oak surface of your desk tightly, you were sure that the wood would splinter underneath his touch.

“I know you don’t want to see me, or talk to me. I broke your heart and I deserve it.” Leon blurted, reaching out to grab one of your hands. Instinctively, you flinched, but you didn’t pull your hand away. You let him hold it, as he leaned over your desk. “I just needed to see you, I needed to know that you’re okay.” 

You blinked, thoroughly confused. “Leon, I,” you cleared your throat, “where is this coming from?” You asked, furrowing your eyebrows. “We haven’t spoken in almost a year, now you come back into my office like this? What happened?” Your heart pounded wildly against your chest, like a caged bird, desperate to fly free. You felt nauseous, as your stomach churned and your thoughts spun violently. 

“I almost lost myself,” Leon admitted, vaguely. “They infected me, I couldn’t-” he paused, inhaling deeply.  “The only thing that kept me together was you, thinking about you.” The blonde exhaled through his nostrils, in a strange laugh. “I realized I couldn’t live without you, I thought I was protecting you, but I put everyone in danger instead.” 

You studied his expression, swallowing the ball that had wadded in your throat nervously. His handsome face morphed in multiple expressions; desperation, fear, grief, and pain. It looked like he was in agony, as his large, calloused hand tightened over your smaller one. “What are you talking about?” You stammered, you felt breathless. “Leon, please tell me.” 

“In Spain, Ashley and I were infected by Las Plagas, a parasite, similar to a virus.” He strained his words, struggling to get them out. “It allowed us to be controlled by an outside force, fuck, it felt like I was on fire. I thought I was going to die.” 

You opened your mouth, but you were at a loss of words. Instead, you allowed him to get closer, as you pressed your lips against his temple. You allowed your hatred towards him to be silenced, for a moment, to comfort him. To provide sanctuary to his tormented mind, to allow the part of you that still loved him to shine though. “You’re okay now, I promise.” You whispered, scooting to sit on your desk, gently petting his back. Your fingers trailing over the bumps of his spine, as his damp forehead pressed against yours.

As always, his skin radiated heat, as your bodies sat magnetized closer together. Your positives were drawn to his negatives, as your hearts fused together in an electrifying sense. You shut your eyes, as the same thrilling sparks that you craved for so long echoed underneath your flesh. His soft sobs evened out, as he pulled away from you, breathing heavily. Your name was rough, yet gentle on his tongue. His warm hands trailed over the curve of your waist, before coming up to cup your face. 

“I never meant to hurt you.” Leon’s voice was like broken glass, as his thumb traced the skin below your eyes. “I thought if you hated me, loathed me, you would be safer. I didn’t think I needed you.” He trailed his lips against your forehead, before planting a kiss between your eyes. “God, I was wrong, please, forgive me.” 

You straightened up on your desk, even from your position, sitting on the desk, he still towered over you. His body leaned over yours, as he held himself up, with both of his hands holding the end of the wooden oak. You felt him pull away, afraid that he had done something wrong, thinking that he had angered you more. For less than a heartbeat, you wanted to scream at him, for breaking you apart. However, the longing desire for the man that you loved so much to be yours again, even for a moment, washed away the hatred you had felt for him. 

Against your better judgment, you pressed your lips against his mouth. Leon’s pale rosy lips were chapped, and your nerves smoldered with him. Your lungs inhaled the scent of sweat and blood. As he returned your kiss, feverishly,  you could taste the metallic indication of blood in his saliva. One of his hands pressed against your cheek bone, as he desperately tried to get closer to you. Your own palms traced over the firm muscles underneath his thin, stretchy, shirt. 

He was almost overloading your senses, in the same way that he always did. You felt like you were going to collapse, as you steaded yourself with a hand by your hip. The other hand, found itself in his filthy ash-blonde hair, you didn’t care. You didn’t think you’d even care if he was covered head to toe in blood and rotten flesh. You missed him. You wanted him. You needed him. You wanted him to take over you, to melt into your body and permanently become a part of you.

As your lungs burned for oxygen, Leon’s mouth left yours, breathing heavily. “You’ve been smoking again.” He commented gruffly, trying to catch his own breath. 

You huffed, in a hint of a laugh. “Got a problem with that?” You gasped as his lips pressed against your neck, effectively knocking you backwards. The curve of your spine rested against the uncomfortable oak surface, but you didn’t notice. Your nerves sparked wildly from Leon’s touch, as his chest leaned against yours. 

“I thought I taught you better than that, sweetheart.” He murmured lowly against the shell of your ear. You hadn’t heard him call you that in what felt like decades, which made electricity shoot through your body, making you almost giggle with delight. 

“Well,” you breathed, “you haven’t exactly been able to keep me on track.” You wheezed as he rested his body weight on one of his arms to use his spare hand to drift over your curves. His pupils dilated, and his breath heavy against your face. 

“You don’t think I’ve kept my eye on you, do you?” The blonde asked, almost patronizing you. “I know what you’ve been up to. I know what bars you’ve gone to every weekend, I know you drink yourself into oblivion every night.” He groaned, his teeth softly scraped against the tender skin on your neck. “If only you knew that, I ached for you every single time I thought about you.” 

The thought of him watching you, from the shadows, when you weren’t paying attention made your brain spin with delight. You moaned as your fingers dug into his scalp, as he nipped at the flesh that joined your neck to your collarbone. “It almost hurt, y’know, that I couldn’t call you mine when I saw you with other people.” Leon pulled his face away from your body, looking down at you with blown, ocean eyes. 

“Be mine, again.”

You exhaled sharply, as his gaze burned into yours. As he waited for your permission to go ahead, to continue what you both had started. Without a second thought, you yanked his hair down so he’d kiss you, in a passionate clash of your lips. He grunted in surprise, but quickly recovered as he melted into your mouth. Leon Kennedy was yours again. 

As you kissed, your hands trailed down to his rough, black jeans, his erection strained against the thick fabric. You smirked against his lips as you fumbled with his leather belt buckle, before toying with the smooth button. He hissed once you freed his solid boner from his pants, as he squeezed your thighs in delight. “I almost forgot how beautiful you are, baby.” Leon panted, carnally, quickly tearing  your work blouse over your shoulders. “Fuck, you’re gorgeous.” He buried his nose between your breasts, inhaling your scent deeply.

You whimpered as his wet tongue traced the outline of your skin, over your bra, as his hands squeezed your biceps. “Jesus, fuck Leon, take off my bra.” You grumbled, desperate. 

He gave you a wolfish grin, “your wish is my command.” Without another word, his teeth snagged the center of your bra, as his hands went undeath you to unclasp the back. Once the clasp was undone, he pulled the garment away from you with his teeth, before tossing it in an unknown direction in your tiny office.  Goosebumps puckered across your skin as your sensitive nipples were exposed to the cool air, you shivered in delight. 

Wordlessly, Leon climbed off of you to crouch at the  end of the desk, his head between your feet. You sat up, confused, ready to ask him if he was done; before he used a firm hand to lay you back down. “Take off your pants and panties. Now.” 

The commanding, desperate tone of his voice made your brain spin and heat pool between your legs. Without a single complaint, you yanked off your dress pants and panties. You made sure to aim the lacy undergarment at your partner’s head, who caught it with ease. Amused, he studied the fabric, before flinging it back to you. “Familiar.” Leon teased, before pulling your lower half over the edge of the desk. 

You yelped as papers scattered onto the floor, as he held onto your ankles. Like a starving man, he buried his head in between your thighs, the hair on his head tickling your skin as his breath rushed against your swollen clit. “Oh Jesus Christ,” you groaned, as your head tilted backwards. Leon littered biting kisses alongside the underside of your upper thighs, looking up at you with half-lidded, smug eyes, before pressing a firm kiss against your sensitive bud.

You hissed in pleasure, as your toes curled inside your shoes. Your entire body flinched at the sudden, yet familiar feeling, as sparks began to echo from your pelvis. “I missed this, I missed you.” Leon murmured against your cunt as he dragged his tongue up the slit. You squeaked, adjusting to the sudden intrusion. “You taste as good as I remembered, sweetness.” Two of his fingers slipped inside you as his lips remained on your clit. You arched your back, giving him easier access as he devoured you. Your hips jerked as your moans grew in pitch, your muscles clenched tighter with every flick of his tongue and thrust of his fingers. 

You cursed him and his ability to absolutely consume pussy. You almost thought he was attempting to eat you alive. You fruitlessly tried to grab onto something, to steady yourself, but all you could manage was crumpled up paper (that you hoped weren’t important) and sliding your fingers across the smooth surface of your desk. “Fuck! Leon!” You moaned as he curled his fingers against the sweet spot inside you, with ease. 

Without intending to, the tightening sensation inside you suddenly snapped. You gasped, as white, blue and black sparked through your vision as you felt every nerve in your body explode. Like fireworks, scattered underneath your heated skin. Your jaw fell open as you grabbed ahold of Leon’s hair to steady yourself, making him hiss delightfully. He didn’t stop, instead, he continued to finger you as you rode out your orgasm. Monster. 

As your high began to fade away, Leon pulled away from your soaked pussy. Covered in your own juices and his salvia. You could see the cocktail of his actions across the lower half of his face, reflecting the orange light of the sunset outside your window. You panted heavily, your arm resting on your damp forehead as he looked down at you, affectionately. 

“Do you want to continue?” He asked, with a charming, gentle question. His lips pressing against your cheek, fingers filing through strands of your hair. You nodded, rapidly, as desire began to build back up throughout your body. 

“Please,”

Leon grinned at you, before standing back up to completely undo his belt and pants. With an effortless move, he stripped his combat pants away, alongside his boxers. His dick was delightfully curved and thick. You had to force your eyes away from staring. Gently, he pulled your hips against his pelvis, as he stood at the end of the desk. He pressed the head of his erection against your prepared hole, and looked down at you. 

You nodded encouragingly, with a smile, as he began to push himself inside you. You both gasped at the sensation, it felt familiar yet foreign at the same time. Leon let out a breathless moan, as he adjusted to the feeling of your heat around his dick. “Fuck,” he breathed out your name like a prayer, “you feel so good.” Without a second thought, he began to thrust inside you, as he began to rush through your veins. 

Your body thrilled at the sensation of Leon Kennedy rushing through your skin again, you felt him inside every fiber of your being. Like a drug, an aphrodisiac, you could never get enough of it. You moaned out his name, as you wrapped your arms around his shoulders, bringing him closer to you. His forehead pressed against yours as your lips parted, looking into your lust hazed eyes. He groaned his desires to you, as his hands grabbed onto your hips tighter, nails digging into your plush flesh. 

You didn’t just need him, he needed you too. In a knotted twist of fate that ensured that you could never live without him. You knew it meant the same to him as well, of course, as he pressed wanton kisses to the side of your face, whispering the words you loved to hear against your ear. You had never truly hated him, you realized, much to your own personal disdain. You had always loved him, even when you had denied it. 

“I love you,” Leon moaned against your skin, in a raspy voice. “I always have, and I always will.” 

You almost laughed in joy, but instead, you simply responded as breathlessly as he did, “I love you too.” 

With a grunt, he came inside you, his hips pressed against yours, without an inch to spare between your bodies. With a wheezy chuckle, he collapsed on top of you, breathing heavily as he emptied himself deep within you. You pressed a kiss to his temple, soothingly stroking his hair as he came back down to Earth. 

You assured yourself for as long as you lived, you would always be the person who knew Leon Kennedy better than you knew yourself. He would know you better than anyone as well, forever bound by the allure that drew you closer together. You weren’t sure if you believed in soulmates, but you knew damn well that there was no one else in the universe who you loved more than him.

---

reblogs greatly encouraged and appreciated. Thanks for reading!

[nomazee]

silly silly

sebastian (sdv) x gn reader

word count: 2.1k

content: pining (mutual...), AGGRESSIVE pining, reader is smitten and in love, stream of conciousness/ramble type of writing, romantic tension (unresolved), cute and will maybe make ur stomach hurt from anxiety (i have my ways) (i’m lying)

notes: omg hey guys so i wasn’t lying about the stardew valley delusion and now i’m so deep in that i wrote this in a haze last night and posted it to my ao3 and now im posting it here. please enjoy. my heart and soul (my rotted brain) went into this it’s the beginning of my magnum opus 

part 1 (you are here) part 2 part 3

<><><><><>

You’re gonna kiss him silly. By the end of the night, you totally are.

It’s something you decided since before you showed up at this jellyfish-festival thing. You barely even know what it’s all about, really—the note from Demetrius didn't say much other than the fact that it was happening tonight, and you should come, and it’s beautiful and all the jellyfish are going south for the winter (like they’re a flock of birds, you think absurdly), and it’s down at the beach at 10pm. You weren’t exactly up to asking him more about it, seeing as it would be awkward to do that and then kiss his step-son on the mouth right in front of him that same night.

That was the plan. Kiss Sebastian on the mouth. It was going to happen and there was kind of nothing anyone could do to stop it (except Sebastian himself, reasonably). You’d like to think you’d gotten close enough to him to let this sort of thing happen. But then again, Sebastian is a special enigma, like a specter floating around on his own path, invisible to the things around him (or at least, trying to be invisible. He’s not invisible to you, never ever ever. You’re too painfully aware of him to let go of that).

Your mind is running with too many thoughts. It’s dark on the beach, and the wood of the dock creaks faintly beneath your feet as you approach where he stands with Sam and Abigail. Vaguely, you wonder how much they’d mind if you yanked Sebastian away from them to give him a kiss. A big fat whopping breath-stealing mind-turning stomach-aching kiss.

You’re going crazy. This whole thing is crazy. You say hi to the three of them and pretend like you’re not plotting this whole thing in your head. They seem none the wiser to your conflicts, and give you amicable greetings as you shift closer to where Sebastian is standing.

He almost blends in with the rest of the night, all black hair and black clothes, but the torches on the dock light him up just enough for you to see his skin and eyes and smile as he glances at you. You greet him, no smile on your part, but a sweet sort of look in your eyes that you hope he’ll catch onto soon. (You don’t think he does.)

He makes space for you to stand next to him, between some empty box and the odd warmth of his body. You take the offer. You’re standing, next to him, so close that you can almost smell the tea tree oil of his shampoo wafting off of him. You think you’re going crazy. You’re going crazy. You look at him, and he looks at you.

Sebastian has a serious look in his eyes, eyebrows furrowed and lips downturned. “I thought I saw something moving in there… something big. Something dark.” You nearly nod along to whatever he’s saying from habit. There’s a second or two where you realize how absurd his words are, and he sees it in your face because he goes, “Just trying to scare you.”

Now he’s teasing you, a smile and a fun kind of glint in the way he does it. The thought crosses your mind to warn him, tell him that he shouldn’t play jokes with you like that because it might make you kiss him silly on this beach before the stupid jellyfish even get here. Then you wave the thought away, because really—that wouldn’t be the final straw. The final straw has been broken for days now. Even weeks. Maybe since the first day you spoke to him and he talked so incredulously about how you could’ve picked Pelican Town as a place to live, but you’d like to think you have more self control than to let a love-at-first-sight kind of deal happen like that.

“You’re funny,” you say back, and you hope it doesn’t sound too strangled. “I think I almost believed you.”

“Really? I didn't expect that. I thought you would’ve called my bluff.”

You could tell me anything and I would believe you, you want to tell him. You could tell me there’s a monster in the sea. You could tell me you made the sun and the stars and the moon and the clouds. You could tell me you’re a jellyfish. I would totally believe you.

You don't say any of that. Because that would be embarrassing. Sam says something, and then Abigail says something, and then Sebastian is turning himself around to talk to them now. Sam and Abigail are nice, and you’re close enough to them where if you joined into their conversation it wouldn’t be awkward or unwelcome.

But there’s something telling you to stay quiet. Anxiety, maybe, fear of saying something stupid and ruining every friendship you’ve made in this town. It’s a crazy hyperbolic thought but it’s enough to make you keep your mouth clamped shut. It’s fine. You listen and turn your head to them and nod along with whatever they say, something about the jellyfish being poisonous and how bad would it be if you reached your hand in and grabbed one, and—?

“It’s starting!” Someone says distantly, and your head snaps back to face the ocean just as lights glow from underneath and the forms of sea creatures illuminate themselves. It’s beautiful. It really, really is beautiful, and you think that you should’ve taken everyone’s word that this was a wonderful event, something you really shouldn’t miss out on, something gorgeous and unimaginable and isn’t it crazy we get to see this every year?

The glow pulses bright enough for you to see more of Sebastian’s face from beneath the darkness of the night. You glance to the side, slowly and subtly (or at least, you hope so). His eyes are bright, and just a little bit wider, and there’s a twitch of his mouth as if he’s holding back a smile. As if he would be embarrassed to let it show how much he likes seeing this.

He smiles, big this time, and it’s one of those downward smiles where the corners of his mouth are tucked in and his cheeks are flushed and you are going to kiss him. You are totally going to kiss him, right now, because now he’s looking at you and the smile still hasn’t left his face and you hope you’re not unsettling him by how you’re ignoring the jellyfish at this point just to stare at him.

Sebastian is not unsettled. At least, not outwardly. He’s staring back and it’s soft now. And his stupid smile is still there. It hasn’t moved, hasn’t changed the way that his gaze had, and you hope it’s not because he has the same affinity for you that he has for the jellyfish. You’d like to be more than the jellyfish, maybe.

You’d like to be more. A little more. And you think, just a little bit more time, and you could kiss him. You could kiss him tonight. You could.

You don’t. Your head turns back to the ocean and you’re shocked at the level of self control you just displayed. It’s almost unbelievable. This whole plan, this whole dream had been built up over weeks now and here you were, being patient. It’s uncharacteristic. You wonder. Wonder wonder wonder.

From beside you, Sebastian doesn't deflate, but there’s a moment of hesitation before he turns to face the same direction as you. Maybe he understands. Maybe he knows. You hope he doesn’t know. You hope this is your own secret to keep.

Minutes pass, and the ceremony ends. The rest of it is nothing short of incredible and wonderful and spectacular and every word you could possibly use to describe it. Your legs buzz from disuse as you push yourself to stand up. (You don’t notice Sebastian hesitating to stick a hand out for support before pulling it back to his side.)

“I like this place,” you say absentmindedly, and suddenly everyone is turned to you—not just Sebastian, but Abigail and Sam and maybe even Vincent from further up the dock. “This was really nice. Thank you all for letting me stay here.”

There’s a pause, and you can’t believe any of that just came out of your mouth. It was cheesy and sappy and insane. This night has rotted your mind so much it’s starting to ooze out of your mouth. You hate this town. You love it. You let them know.

“Of course, man!” Sam is exuberant, and he smiles at you. “I guess at first it was weird having someone new here, because no one new ever comes here. But you’re great. And you’ve done so much for all of us. Really.”

Abigail nods along, a firm gesture paired with this triumphant sort of smile that makes your chest warm. “Really. Like, yeah, maybe it sucked having my old hang-out place taken over by a stranger.” (Sam elbows her. She yelps indignantly.) “But you’ve kind of made it worth it. Thanks for everything, too.”

It’s sweet. It’s all so sweet it makes your teeth ache and your head ache and your stomach ache. You’re hit with a sudden need to go home, and it’s the first time you’ve really felt like you knew where home was. It’s weird. Your legs ache, now.

Your head is muffled. You think you nod to all of them and you hope the appreciation and care in your eyes is enough to make up for your stunted responses. People are packing up and going home. Sam and Abigail give some sort of look in your direction, not unkind, but unusual, and suddenly Sebastian is thanking you for the night and asking to walk you home. You want to kiss him. Kiss him. Hold his hand and kiss him and trace his palm and maybe throw him into the ocean with the possibly-poisonous jellyfish remnants.

It’s quiet as he walks you home. Faintly, you realize how out of character this is for him. But this whole night has been full of out-of-character things for you and him and everybody. This is so weird. You’re going crazy. You’re going to kiss him.

Or, you think, for sure, that you’ll kiss him even if it wasn’t in front of the docks or the jellyfish or his friends—you think, for sure, the rest of this night is going to be made up of you kissing him silly on your doorstep and then collapsing in your bed and moving back to the city in shame.

But. But but but. But. There is something. And you don’t know what it is. And you don’t know if he’d kiss you too, but maybe. But. But but but. You don’t.

You’re at your doorstep. You thank him. And now, you are both waiting expectantly at your door for something to happen. You need to make it happen. Now. You need to kiss him and you won’t move and your stomach is aching and you think maybe you have a shellfish allergy.

“I feel sick.” It’s not a lie, and you really are two steps away from throwing up on his shoes and you really, really don't want that to happen—if you throw up on his shoes, then you’ll never be able to kiss him, because every time you reach for him he’ll be struck by the memory of you splattering vomit all over his sneakers and then he’ll ask you politely to move back to Zuzu City and never look back. (You think this is accurate.)

“Get to bed,” he tells you, and you’re shocked to hear him speak after so long. “It’s been a long night.” He’s polite, he’s kind, he’s so so kind that it’s stabbing you in the chest and twisting around your insides and why couldn't you just kiss him like a normal person?!

Okay, you think you say. Okay okay okay. His brow is furrowed and his lips are downturned but not in that odd smiley way of his. He’s just worried, now, and you think you’re going to be sick, for real this time.

You don’t tell him goodnight, but the slam of the door in his face is probably enough of a signal. You’re embarrassed. You didn't even kiss him. You can’t even tell if this night is a success or not. Kitty walks across your feet and looks up at you as if she knows what kind of clusterfuck of a night you just had. What a little shit. You let her follow you to bed and sit on your chest while her deep breaths lull you to sleep.

You didn't kiss him. What a wreck. What a joke. You’ll kiss him tomorrow for sure. Kiss him silly.

[pseudophan]

some post wad weekend thoughts...

i just wrote all this on the plane and haven't read it through so apologies for any mistakes

first of all, this weekend was incredible. i usually just kinda sit at home doing not much of anything, and this was a much needed break to actually have some fun. london in general always lifts my spirits but i suppose that danisnotonfire guy contributed a little as well.

guys i think i've met more people the past few days than i otherwise have in years. like. holy shit. i started listing people but i'm petrified i'll forget someone so i chickened out, sorry about that. but you all know who you are. i've met friends i've had for years, people i used to know but haven't spoken to in what feels like a decade, newer friends, and a frankly baffling amount of people i didn't know yet but who told me they've followed me for ages. like holy fuck you guys lmao what the hell??? and i mean did the reaction ever get old no of course it didn't. bad for my ego i'm sure but totally worth it. there's something very amusing and incredibly surreal about being chronically lame in most aspects of life and then suddenly finding yourself in an environment where you're kinda cool???? SO fucking fun oh my god, but also i do kinda feel like i've tricked you all? but hey i'll happily let you keep believing i'm cool, that is more than fine with me.

most importantly though everyone was SO lovely. like i said i don't think i've spoken to this many people in such a short amount of time in years and every single person i talked to was awesome. guys did you know phannies are kind of great... don't tell anyone but, lowkey... everyone is so funny and cool and absolutely insane but in a good way (shoutout everyone left at the gates until the very end, we should probably get some help).

and then lastly of course, mr howell himself. i talk about this a lot i feel like but fuck me that man was born to perform. whether you think he's actually funny or not, nobody can argue he doesn't absolutely thrive on a stage. he plays off the audience so well and he's so very obviously having the time of his fucking life. i'd already seen the show twice before this, and i didn't think anything would top the previous london show but man... the first night he came back out after the show having clearly been tearing up backstage, apologising for being an inconsistent absent parent, and i can't lie the "i had daddy issues and THEN i subscribed to dan howell" got me cause yeah no literally dude, you nailed it, exactly, well done. i think something about doing this show again, his magnum opus as he considers it, now after the dapg return was very special to him. he seems genuinely surprised that so many of us were ready to just jump back in like nothing happened, i don't think he was expecting so many people to still be waiting and it's... man. he comes off so grateful for us all and it's so fucking sweet. and then on the last night, i think that was my favourite, when the show ended and he got the standing ovation and people throwing him flowers.. he was so HAPPY. and clearly overwhelmed with emotion which, i gotta say, there is something honestly kinda funny about daniel howell standing in front of you trying not to cry. like no by all means dude go ahead, please, you've made me cry an endless amount of times it's only fair.

ugh. i'm proud of him or whatever. dick. and i'm proud of our ridiculous fucking community. i'm not sure what 14 year old nora would say if you'd told me i'd still be kicking it in the phandom a decade on, but at almost 25 (fml) i'm so so happy to be here still. you know, we get a bad rep, but i genuinely think as far as fanbases go we're pretty solid. and i love you all so much.

i believe i will have to rob a bank or something because the next time dan and/or phil do a tour i think i'll have to just show up at every date like i'm sorry but this was too good of a high we need to do it again immediately

anyway. back to work 💪

(by which i mean giffing dan and phil. i am still very much unemployed. fr though i'm two whole videos behind this has never happened i feel weird. who am i)

[inevitably-johnlocked]

Hi!! Do you maybe know of any fics that feature touch-starved Sherlock? Thank you so much in advance, and I hope you have an amazing day!

Hey Nonny!!

AHHH I DO, BUT it's in a combined list if that's okay???

And you're in luck, I'm short on a list this week, so I'm gonna also post you the second short list I have as well!! I hope you enjoy, even if it's not EXACTLY what you're looking for!!

As always friends, if you have something, please add them below!

TOUCHING / TOUCH STARVATION Pt 2

See also: Touching / Touch Starvation

Bond, Sherlock Bond! by macgyvershe (T, 631 w., 1 Ch. || Fluff, Kissing, Couch Cuddles, Sexy Talk with No Explicit Sex, Bond Night, Established Relationship) – John is doing a Bond-a-thon. Sherlock is ready for a night of movies and munchies. Washed down with Devil Mountain coffee. Eventually everything comes together in the best of ways.

The Skin Over My Heart by standbygo (E, 8,849 w., 1 Ch. || Post-Hiatus, Fake Relationship, Case Fic, Dog Tags, Military, Homophobia, Gay Bashing, POV First Person Sherlock, Friends to Lovers, First Kiss / Time, Declarations of Love, Undercover, Haircuts, Flashbacks, Touching, Pining Sherlock, Hospitalization, Metaphors, Introspection, Hand Jobs, On the Couch, John’s Past, Angst with Happy Ending) – Sherlock and John are still trying to adjust to Sherlock's return from his hiatus when John's friend Bill Murray brings them a case. Someone is targeting the LGBTQA+ members of Bill's unit. John and Sherlock go undercover at the unit, but when they end up having to flirt to flush out the suspect, Sherlock realizes he's in over his head.

A Comprehensive Taxonomy of Tobacco-Ash by Silvergirl (E, 11,475 w., 2 Ch. || No TRF AU || Cranky Sherlock, Alternating POV’s, Self-Esteem Issues, Jealous John, Pining John, Confessions, First Kiss, Frottage, Bed Sharing, Sensuality, Cuddling, Touching)��– A handsome academic approaches Sherlock about publishing his magnum opus on tobacco-ash in a prestigious scientific journal. Sherlock is quite flattered and flustered, and John’s nose is out of joint.In this little AU there is no Fall and no Mary. Instead, there is humor and smut. Truly a disproportionate amount of smut.

Spare Parts by Raina_at (E, 63,497 w., 10 Ch. || 24th Century / Futurism AU || Post TRF, Pre-TRF Relationship, Case Fic, Mutual Pining, Estrangement, Reconciliation, Science Fiction, Reunion, Nightmares, Angry John, Cybernetic John, Emotional Discussions / Heart to Heart, POV John, Scars, Past Drug Use, Forehead Touching, Emotional Lovemaking, Kissing, Apologies, Kidnapping, Rescue Mission, BAMF John, Bed Sharing, Top Sherlock) – Two years ago, Sherlock Holmes jumped off the roof of New London Hospital. Two months ago, he walked into John's clinic as if no time had passed at all. John hasn't seen him since. But then Sherlock knocks on John's door with a case he can't say no to, and while figuring out why the biggest manufacturer or synthetic limbs in the System is going after veterans, they also need to find out whether there's a way to fix what's broken between them. Part 1 of Realigning Gravity

Bakers with Benefits by Raina_at (E, 88,130 w., 14 Ch. || Great British Bake Off AU || Strangers to Lovers, Switchlock, Friends with Benefits, Mentions of Alcoholism / Past Drug Use, Banter, Flirting, Fluff, Light Angst, Semi-Public Sex, Past Sherlock/Victor, Mutual Pining, POV Sherlock, Obsessive Sherlock, John’s Bum) – Sherlock Holmes has a successful YouTube baking channel, but what he really wants is his own bakery. When an old friend sends him a call for the very first Great British Bake Off, he seizes the opportunity to finally win a sponsor for his bakery. Here's the plan: Win Bake Off, get the bakery, don't fall in love with the handsome Army doctor at the neighbouring station. Easy.

Fade To Black by twistedthicket1 (M, 93,389 w., 29 Ch. || Split Personality Disorder / DID, Action, Romance, Violence, Implied Rape/Non-Con, BAMF John, Fluff and Angst, Baskerville, Human Experimentation, PTSD, Implied Self Harm, Trauma Amnesia, Past Child Sexual Abuse, Protective Sherlock, Smoking, Meddling Mycroft, Past Victor/Sherlock, Gay Sherlock, Sherlock’s Past, First Kiss/Time) – John Watson believes one day he'll just fade. That he'll drown in the black spaces of his mind, and that one day he will no longer exist. It's always been like this, the dark spots marking out moments in his life he can't remember. Where for just a moment he's someone else. Having a Dissociative identity disorder, he can't even be entirely sure he's really who he says he is. Then he meets Sherlock Holmes. A brilliant detective who when he looks at you can read your entire life story. John is immediately fascinated and afraid, half-wondering if maybe Sherlock can see the other personalities in him and half terrified of the thought of him finding out. Becoming his flatmate seems at once to be a wonderful and horrible idea. Yet as John's Blackouts become more and more severe and his other personalities begin to truly awaken and show themselves with Sherlock's help, the two soon discover that sometimes even the kindest person can harbour a demon best left untouched inside of them. Because not all of John's other personalities play nicely and some may be hiding secrets best left undisturbed...

Drawn to Stars by Silvergirl (E, 109,272 w., 60 Ch. || S4 Compliant to TLD / TFP Doesn’t Exist, Sherlock’s Italian Adventure, Sherlock/OC and Johnlock, Jealous John, Mutual Pining, Misunderstandings, First Kiss/Time, Idiots in Love, 3 Part Story, Slow Burn, Inexperienced Sherlock, Bottom Sherlock, Introspection, Multiple Alternating First and Third Person POV, Separation and Reconciliation, Emotional Love Making, Love Confessions via Letters, Angst with Happy Ending) – After the Culverton Smith case Sherlock is clean, working, and looking for a romantic partner—since John has told him that’s what he needs. Shame John didn’t mention he was interested in that role himself, before Sherlock went off to Rome with a gorgeous Italian copper to try to fall in love and become a complete human being.  Part 1 of the Drawn to Stars series

Sherlock Holmes Live by emilycare (E, 488,496 w., 73 Ch. || Theatre AU || Immersive Theatre, Romance, Slow Burn, Fake / Pretend Relationship, Fluff, Bisexual John, Demisexual Gay Sherlock, Alternating POV, Falling in Love, Eventual Case Fic, Soft Sherlock, Panic Attacks, Hurt/Comfort, Angst with Happy Ending, Pining John) –  Down on his luck John Watson answers an advert for a paid role in an experimental play. Enter William Scott with a most unusual proposition: help him test run a two person immersive experience, oh and by the way there is sex and romance involved.

[universallydestinytaco]

The Little Smiling Mermaid (Chapter 1)

‘Twas a misty aftermoon when the sky was crowded with dark grey clouds and the airborne foul soared above the sparkling sapphire waves dancing with the gusty breeze guiding the sails of many a sailing ship, one particularly rowdy vessel was celebrating the successful aftermath of their latest battle with an infamous pirate crew. The leader of this unruly crew was the scrappy, rugged and sharp-witted Prince Charlie of the Dompler family. You’d be forgiven for assuming he was a mere swashbuckler than a Royal. Despite being the heir to the throne of his kingdom he was looked down upon his fellow Nobles for coming off as awkward, bumbling and unattractive. Charlie didn’t give two shits what the overglorified snobs thought about him because he’d rather prefer going on high-spirited adventures beyond the sea with his motley crew of sailors than waste his precious time on some boring luncheon just to get judged for merely being there.

“Damn son, you showed Salty who’s-who THIS time!” Chris cracked up as he raised his stubby hand to initiate a high five from Charlie, who happily accepted the offer. Tomar piped up: “Don’t forget how his little toadie Ketchup immediately ran and cried for his Captain for it once he saw you jump into the crow’s nest with the dagger in your mouth.” Lyle let out a chuckle when adding: “What a wimp.” The gang shared their own retrospective of the event with gleeful laughs. “Oh, I almost forgot-“ Charlie uttered, while revealing a bottle of high quality rum: “I swiped this before I left!” The sailors howled in delight at the treat their friend unveiled. “Charlie you sunovabitch, we love you!” cried Chris who already felt intoxicated by the strong smell reeking from the bottle. Charlie replied with a wink and a cheeky “finger gun” gesture before opening up the bottle and shouting: “Bring out yer flasks, maties!”

On the other corner steering the ship was it’s Captain whom they jokingly called “Mr. Boss”, he was also the closest thing Charlie had to a father since his own parents passed away sometime when the land critter was a merely a homunculi. Mr. Boss’ ears observed the rowdy party singing off-key in unison to a familiar sea shanty, a side effect of hitting the sauce. Mr. Boss chuckled and sang along with the crew as he navigated them back to their kingdom of Gremblonia.

“I'll tell you a tale of the bottomless blue And it's hey to the starboard, heave hoooooooo!!!! Look out, lad, a mermaid be waitin' for you-“

Charlie, who was a top the ship where the sails where draped, belted out with great gusto: “DOWN MYSTERIOUS FATHOMS BELOOOOOOOOW!!!”

~

Meanwhile, another kingdom below the surface, Meeplantica, the royal family was hosting a special concert in the Palace, peformed by the children of King Steven and Queen Bertha. Who was especially excited for this event was Alan Red, a lobster who was the designated royal composer and King Steven’s right hand man, who stayed up many moons writing new symphonies exclusive to the concert. “At last, I finally get to bestow my magnum opus.”

The anticipating crowd where greeted to the stage opening up revealing three large clamshells, with Alan raising his wand and the band began to play as two clamshells revealed the two eldest siblings, Damien and Amy, who harmonized: “Ah, we are the children of Bertha and Steven, great mother and father who raised us well!"

The third clamshell opened to reveal the youngest sibling…or at least it was meant to. The crowd gasped in shock as Alan has to do a double take in disbelief, Amy was holding back her urge to throw one of her classic primadonna tantrums in front of the crowd and Damien rolled his eyes knowing this concert was gonna hit a snag. Queen Bertha flipped out screeching hysterically while agonizing over where her youngest could be and King Pimling raised his fist and his trident to the sky shouting the name of his youngest in rage: “WHY THAT LITTLE-!!!!”

~

Within the outskirts of Meeplantica lay a shipwreck from long ago which would be collecting a lot of dust if it wasn’t literally underwater. Visiting this once bustling vessel was a cloaked sea critter carrying a tote weaved in kelp accompanied by a green guppy with a protruding snout, The critter wiggled his tail in excitement. “There it is, Glep! Isn’t it fantastic!?” As Glep finally caught up to his energetic and spontaneous friend, he got a good gander at the decaying exterior of the destination his friend had been hyping up all day…and he was disappointed to say the least. In a high pitched nasally gibberish he asked: “Eskewafibbyjibbywo! Jazazebayowozoio? (What a dump! Pim, you brought me all the way here for this?) Pim reassured: “It’s what’s on the inside that counts! Think of all the amazing things land critters have made that are just lying around under appreciated and unused…” he monologued whistfully while gazing through the window as some of his dark pink hair curls spilled through his hood. “I hope you’re not getting cold fins…but if you are I can stash you in my satchel for safe keeping.” Glep wasn’t scared as he was unimpressed, but he couldn’t leave Pim behind since he liked the guy. “Jazazewabozoyoboio. (Thanks, but I’ll stay here and watch out for sharks)” “Alright, this will be quick, I promise!” said Pim as he swam through the window and did a graceful twirl and a soft hum as he browsed through room-by-room. After acquiring some odds and ends like a pair of golden cuff links, opera glasses, a high heel and tons of silver wear, Pim finally came across an orient box gilded in gold. The ever curious mercritter popped the box open to reveal strands of stone beads and chains as well as a figurine of a couple holding hands almost as if they where dancing, just then Pim noticed the key on the back and wound it up, out came “twinkly” music and the couple finally started “dancing”. Pim was so mesmerized he fell into a dreamlike state with a tinge of envy over how both dancers had feet, humming to the ethereal tune. Once the tune stopped and Pim was about to wind the key up again, he heard Glep squealing in terror and immediately looked around crying out: “Glep! Where are you little buddy?!” He swam closer to where the sound was coming from and when swimming to the next sector of the shipwreck, he was greeted to Glep frantically swimming away from what wasn’t a shark but what could only be described as a “abyss demon”. Tall and spindly with what appeared to be a head with horns resembling coral branches and piercingly cold ocean-blue eyes staring into one’s soul. Pim grabbed Glep and swam for a way out of the abyss demon’s sight. Pim forgot the crucial advice from his grandfather from when he was just a little tadpole: “Don’t dive too deep into the abyss…you’ll get lost!” Oh if only he didn’t have a hard time remembering little things like that AND an addiction to thrills. He could hear the voice of his stubborn father nagging at him that he just doesn’t learn or listen. Pim slipped out another window and as the demon followed, only for Glep to slam it shut in his face and blow a raspberry at its squished face as he followed Pim away from the scene.

On an island surrounded with a collection of various discarded “human and land critter stuff”, another pink mercritter was casually chilling out while marveling at a crystal sphere slowly whispered in awe: “Nooooo waaaaaay…” He then heard two familiar voices coming closer to his ol’ swimming grounds. Looking into his scratched-up telescope, his smile turned into a grin as he jokingly shouted: “Yoooo mercritter on the looooose!” While waving his hand to signal his youngest cousin and his friend. Pim squealed back and frantically waved: “Hello Graham Nelly!!” Glep followed suit with a cheery: “Skawabezewayo (S’up bruh)?!” While the green guppy never liked how cold, conceited and haughty the rest of Pim’s family was, he did take a liking in his out-there cousin. He opined in his head: “If only the rest of the royal family where as cool as Pim and Graham”. Pim swam towards the sandy shore of the island where his cousin sat, going off: “You wouldn’t believe the adventure me and Glep had today!” as he opened his satchel and took out each item from the haul.

…

Graham laughed at Glep explaining his POV of the morning recap while he closely analyzed the treasures Pim unearthed, he observed a particularly fancy dinner fork engraved with the initials “M.P.” and declared: “Congratulations, my lucky friends, for you have found a dinglehopper! Actually there are a lot in this bag but this particular one is a certified righteous find.” The ever curious Pim of course asked: “What’s a dinglehopper?” “Dinglehoppers are what land folk use to comb their hair, I’ve seen fancy ones like this used by rich folk, but usually they’re more enlongated than this. It’s perfect to carry around and show off at events like parties and concerts!”

The last word had Pim remember something he was supposed to attend to earlier…but completely forgot which day it was. The small mercritter panicked: “Oh no the concert is supposed to be today! I think….Daddy’s gonna kill me!!” as he grabbed all his stuff and added: “I’ll see you later, thank you!!” Pim swam off in a hurry with Glep tagging along. “Catch you by the tide, kiddo!”

~ Back in the Abyss, the skeletal remains of a whale was permanently beached to the ground, inside was the dingy lair of one such infamous sea warlock who was as short-and-stout as he was also, to put it mildly, kind of a stinky little shitbag. He gazed upon his crystal ball watching Pim and Glep on their way back to the palace while grabbing a bowl of tiny crustaceans and crunching them between his teeth as he waited for the fireworks to light up. “Yeeeees…it’s all coming along nicely….one more piece to fall into place until I strike-“ his slow-witted henchman interrupted with a smartassed remark: “Say Grim, what are we gonna do tonight?” Grim gritted his teeth in frustration and replied: “The same thing we do every night, Gnarly: plot to snatch my deadbeat uncle’s trident so we can try and take over the seven seas!!!”

CHAPTER TWO DROPS NEXT WEEK

[a-dumb-sarcastic-bisexual]

These Nimona headcanons are dedicated to the people who keep asking me how I come up with them (short answer: I have no fucking clue)

While Ambrosius is the one to keep the house clean Bal is the only reason their schedules are even somewhat put together 

This man has multiple calendars one physical calendar in their living room

A digital one for just him that’s dedicated to things that he knows the duo would be bored by 

And a digital calendar for the trio themselves which is his pride and fucking joy 

His baby a digital miracle and what he genuinely considers to be his magnum opus 

Because Ambrosius and Nimona are the hardest people to organize schedules with

Every conversation with them would go something like this “Hey what are you doing next week” “Oh I’m going to work” “Okay do you know what time you have to head in” *shrugs* “Do you know if you have days off” *shrugs again* “do you even know what days you’re going in” *shrugs one last time*

And then Bal would have to walk away because he was really to commit a crime 

No one knows how he actually got their schedules 

Nimona doesn’t know how Bal scheduled plans for them when he didn’t have their friend's contact info

It scares Ambrosius how Bal’s able to fit is incredibly hectic days in nice neat color coordinated boxes 

The duo doesn’t ask questions and they don’t fuck with the schedule 

They just follow it cause it’s always right 

Which is kind of horrifying 

There is one chore in the house that not even the resident clean freak (my baby golden boy) likes 

And that’s washing the dishes 

Not a singular person in that house will ever do the dishes without complaining even a little bit 

They always take turns and it’s always a lose-lose situation 

Because even though there’s this feeling of “dodged that bullet today” they’re also a little guilty because they know the person doing it hates it just as much 

They bought dish gloves because that slightly helped the problem 

But those things tear like it’s no one’s business which is the fucking worst 

One time Bal walked into the kitchen to see Ambrosius crying over the dishes 

He asked what’s wrong and all he had to say was “glove” 

And Bal knew what he meant because Ambrosius swears that having wet rubber rub up against your skin is almost as bad as touching the bare dishes 

Every time Ambrosius or Bal have to leave for more than a couple of days the other will joke that they're a single father 

Anytime someone checks in on them they’ll say something like “The life of a single parent is hard but fulfilling” 

This basically just translates to them missing their spouse so could someone please bring them back as soon as possible 

Nimona always jokes they’re a child of divorce when the boys make that joke 

The jokes range from “Being a child of divorce is so stressful” to “Good riddance I never liked him anyway” 

Mind you those remarks come after Nimona hung off their legs as they walked out the door 

One time when Bal went on a solo trip Nimona asked Ambrosius to go to the park with him 

He didn’t question it just packed up the car and drove them to the nearest park

And he swears he only took his eyes off Nimona for a minute and when he turned back around he saw a group of sad-looking kids and adults crowding around a kid 

And he instantly knew where he went 

He watched in horror as Nimona pointed up to the sky and said “Dad!” a mom asked with a sad voice “Is your dad a pilot sweety?” to which Nimona responded with “No but Papa says he’s in the sky somewhere which is why he never visits” 

He just scooped her up apologizing while making a run for the car 

A lot of parents were very concerned about why the kingdom’s golden boy just snatched a random child they’d never seen before and will never see again

And they genuinely debate on calling the knights while Ambrosius fireman carries this cackling child away

They do and Ambrosius has to have a very awkward conversation with his old coworkers

[hazbeans-for-thee]

Radioapple Week Day 2 - Enemies/Pining

Characters: Alastor, Lucifer Morningstar

Warnings: None

Word count: 689

Summary: A quiet day at the hotel causes Alastor to get curious at Lucifer’s current activities.

[A/N: See if you can spot the vague plot point that connects each of these stories!]

Alastor was wandering the corridors of the hotel a little while after lunchtime, something he found himself doing when he had little else to do. He had started near his own room, and has crossed the length of the hall to the king’s side of the floor.

Alastor curled his lip for a moment with disdain as his eyes fell on the elaborately decorated doors that provided entrance to Lucifer’s room. Why had he insisted on interrupting the flow of aligned doors just to stick comically large doors in their place? It made little sense to the demon, so he pressed his lips together into a tight smile as he walked by. However, he came to a stop after a moment, his attention now turned toward the doors. His ears turned forward, trying to identify the nature of the sound. With a chuckle, he sunk into the shadows of the floor and crossed the threshold of the king’s room to find out what he was doing.

Lucifer was currently bent over a large work table that was pushed against the far wall. His coat and hat had been discarded, with the coat on the floor and the hat sitting on the edge of his bed. Alastor grimaced and waved his hand, causing the discarded clothes to be enveloped in a green glow and float above the floor. The coat was folded and placed on the dresser, with the hat sitting on top. Honestly, he must have to do everything around here.

It seemed that Lucifer had been the source of the noise. As he tinkered away at his newest creation, he hummed a familiar tune under his breath. “Hey, hobo man, hey dapper Dan, you’ve both got your style… but brother you’re never truly dressed without a smile…~”

Without a sound, Alastor stepped closer to Lucifer. He had to admit, even if the man had his faults, he had a nice singing voice. He wondered as well how long it would take for him to be noticed. He got his answer a moment later, when Lucifer turned around and nearly fell over with how fast he stumbled backward. “What-! What in the unholy hell are you doing in here!?”

“Why, I simply came to check on our most esteemed guest at hour humble establishment,” Alastor answered. “Is it not my job as the hotelier to ensure the satisfaction of all current residents?”

“You could’ve at least knocked,” Lucifer grumbled as he straightened his posture.

Alastor chuckled as he tapped his nails against his microphone. “But would you have answered if I had?”

Lucifer opened his mouth to answer, then closed it again. Alastor smiled in a smug manner at the reaction. “May I inquire as to what you’re working on, your majesty?”

Lucifer quickly stepped back, his back against the side of the desk. “Oh, you know, nothing important,” he said simply.

Alastor tilted his head to the side. “Surely if it’s taking up this much of your time, it can’t be nothing at all.”

“Well, it’s none of your business,” Lucifer snapped back as his hands fell to his hips. “So there.”

“It’s going on within the walls of the hotel, and it is my job as the hotelier to ensure the comfort and safety of our guests,” Alastor said as he straightened his posture a little.

“Does it look like anything particularly interesting or dangerous is happening?” Lucifer asked. “No, clearly not,” he then answered with an irritated tone with a slightly dismissive wave of his hand. “If there’s nothing else you wish to discuss, please leave.”

Alastor thought for a moment before nodding in agreement. “Of course, your majesty.” With that, Alastor waved with his fingers as he sunk back down into his shadow and slid under the door.

Lucifer let out a nervous breath as he turned back to the table. A small duck sat in the middle, with half its body now covered in red paint. “That was a close one… now, to return to my magnum opus,” he said as he picked up the paintbrush. “I can hardly wait to show you off!”

[brainworms-all-night-long]

please tell us more about babyfied nine

Ok so the thing is that Nine grew up in a totalitarian metrocity under algorithmic supervision done by giant intimidating hunks of metal that have zero room for negotiation 24/7 instead of a small village who's people were kinda assholes, so he's even more skittish and alert than baby Tails would be

Hes also quiet, like scary quiet like Sonic considered giving him a little jingle bell quiet because he jumpscares people with his sudden presence and dissapearece so much, and also rarely talks. And when he does it's either the most imicitly heart breaking shit imaginable or his cassual sass

I am never going to give him a break so I thinks the sudden change in size of his body and brain development by couple of years and the fact he didnt have his matal tails back then they're kinda awkwardly too big for him and cause some severe nerve issues 👍

Also since this ask took so long to answer because my brain jumped through fifty other things since then, have a little drabble as a compensation :'D

[676 words]

———

He gathered himself from the ground, hand trying to rub off the physical pain of sudden blinding light, and eventually managed to get back to his feet.

The second he felt in control of his senses he whipped around to assess all the damage done by that explosion and immediately noted a worrying lack of one fox in particular.

"Is everyone ok?!" Sonic called out with worry pricking his voice, while still trying to spot anything that vaguely resembled Nine.

"What do you think you rodent. Our magnum opus was blown to smithereens!"

Aaand the hedgehog immediately deadpanned when the starchy voice of Dr.Done It entered his ears he flattened against his head

"...Everyone who didn't try to kill me and I actually care about?"

He got his answers soon enough when the resistance was back at the eggheads' case and he heard a piece of plastic from the Way Back machine clatter to the ground.

"Um, Sonic..?" Tails called out for him but too late as they were both looking in the same direction. And unmistakably, both of them spotted something moving in the rubble near the still smoking remains of the machine.

"Nine?"

At least he hoped it was. There was a possibility that for whatever reason the fox would want to play a smart-ass — since he did try to kill him at one point, and for the love of him doesn't want to accept the fact he's cared about — but even if it's in the past and all that, Sonic needed to go check on him.

Any catastrophic ways in which the fox could've been hurt in a way leaving him physically unable to actually respond running through his head came to a screeching halt once he rounded the corner and stood face to face with a tiny fox kit.

After the millisecond he had to get over just how utterly adorable he was, the hedgehog quickly registered the vwey clear terror displayed on Nine's little face. And he could tell it was Nine if by anything else than the depressing gray attire, a painfully fresh-looking cuts under his eye, and most importantly, the seven mechanical tails laying uselessly around him.

First quickly making sure everyone was too busy with the fight elsewhere, Sonic outstretched his hand to stop Tails in his place when the other it froze like a deer in the headlights and obviously prepared to bolt it out of here. (Through Sonic wasn't sure he could with those metal appendages holding him down. They didn't exactly seem responsive because otherwise he was sure they'd be treatening pointed his way.)

And as taken aback as Tails was, he complied and decided that just discreetly peeking over the metal frame would have to suffice.

"Hey there buddy..."

Sonic tried with a low tone while rising both of his hands in front of him slowly. The last thing he wanted was to apprehend the little guy and scare him even more.

However the way his scared blue eyes jumped all over the place in search of an exit wasn't exactly reassuring against that.

"Don't worry, I don't want to hurt you."

The terrified face was replaced by a deep scorn as Nine pulled himself as far away from the hedgehog as possible. The thing stopping him from going further being the dreadful realization he has seven deadweights of metal stapled to his waist.

"Then what do you want."

Ok, Nine didn't only look tiny, he sounded the part too. The usual cold edge in his voice, which pretty much everyone grew accustomed to at this point, was gone and replaced with a tired rasp.

Sonic's features dropped at that and the the adorable-angry face morphed into confusion because of course it would.

Sonic, like an idiot, wondered why this felt so familiar and just why every single one of his moves was so instinctual when the realization he'd done all of this already hit him.

Well, either way he needs the little guy to trust him now, and Tails can figure out the technical side of how this even happened.