#thank FUCK this week is over. the last few days have been fucking awful and im just. done.

[dontwanderoff]

in the wise words of one of my students, its fri-yay

[moonstruckme]

hi i love your blog! could you write poly!marauders where james is away on a business trip and everyone is moping because they miss him

Hi, I love you! Thanks for requesting :)

modern au

poly!marauders x fem!reader ♡ 863 words

You feel a bit guilty resting your head on Sirius' shoulder while longing for another. But you reason that it’s not so bad if the one you’re longing for is Sirius’ boyfriend, too. And you like to think that if it were James’ warm, cushiony shoulder you were leaning against, you’d be missing Sirius instead. 

“How was everyone’s day?” you ask. 

Remus turns to give you a peculiar look. “It was fine. We talked about this already, didn’t we?” 

“Yeah,” you sigh. “I just feel like we’re not usually so quiet during the commercial breaks.” 

“Well, our yapper’s gone,” Sirius says sulkily. 

“James does usually start the conversation,” admits Remus. “But we don’t need him to talk, yeah?” 

“Right.” You nod, sitting up with what you hope looks like conviction. “Sirius, you can yap just as well as James can.” 

“Yeah, but I need him to get me going.” Your boyfriend sighs heavily. “He’d probably ask something like ‘If we were all in a circus, what would our roles be?’ and I can’t come up with shit like that.”

“No, that’s great!” You try to sound peppy. “Um, okay. Sirius would probably be a trapeze artist, right?” 

Remus nods. “And I could see you being a tightrope walker.” 

You both look to Sirius for his analysis, but he looks unimpressed. Still, he plays along. “Rem would be one of those blokes who eat fire, likely.” 

“Yeah,” you laugh. 

See, you can have fun! This is fun, right? But then your film comes back on, and you all lapse into silence again. 

“James would’ve never let us watch this,” you say after a few minutes. “He’d have made us pick a comedy or something.” 

“And he would’ve been right,” Sirius agrees. “This is fucking bleak.” 

“It’s not so bad,” Remus says, making you and Sirius exchange a look. For as much as James loves Remus, he’s most often the victim of his film vetoes. Remus’ taste is bleak. 

It’s another few minutes before an actress on-screen says a line, and Remus clears his throat awkwardly. 

“That’s what she said.” 

You and Sirius look at him with a mixture of befuddlement and alarm. 

“What?” He shifts in his seat. “I’m trying to fill a gap.” 

Sirius appears scandalized. “James’ jokes are far more advanced than that.” 

“He said ‘that’s what she said’ just last week.” 

“Yes, but in a completely different context!” 

“We could call him,” you point out. 

Remus’ expression creases longingly. “No, he’s been in meetings all day. I’m sure he’ll want to rest.” 

But Sirius clicks the speaker button on his phone, letting the dial tone play aloud. Remus looks almost relieved. 

James picks up on the third ring. “Hello?” 

“Hi,” you all say loudly, voices each trying to be heard over the others. 

“We need you to come home,” Sirius whines. 

“What?” James sounds closer to the speaker now, like he’s holding the phone tight to his face. “Is everything okay?” 

“Don’t say that,” Remus hisses at Sirius. “Everything’s fine, Jamie.” 

“We just miss you,” you clarify. 

“Oh.” The relief is obvious in your boyfriend’s voice, and you notice your other two boyfriends smiling fondly at the sound of it. You think your own expression probably looks just about as humiliatingly smitten. “Awe. I miss you guys, too. Like crazy, you have no idea.” 

“I think we have some.” Sirius raises a brow at the phone. “Rem just tried to make a ‘that’s what she said’ joke.” 

A sharp cough crackles through the speaker. “Did he? How did it go?” 

“Poorly.” 

“Ah, well.” You can practically feel the warmth of James’ smile from hundreds of miles away. “Don’t worry, love. We’ll work on it when I get back.” 

“I’d rather not do it again, actually,” Remus grumbles. 

“How was your day?” You lean on Sirius’ shoulder again, getting close to the phone like James is contained within it. 

“Boring,” he says emphatically. “I got told off by some old woman for tapping my pen on my pad too loudly while someone was giving a presentation. The hotel they’ve put us up in isn’t bad, though. Free breakfast in the morning to get us energized for another day or torment.” 

“Ooh, could you see if they have those little blueberry muffins?” Sirius asks. “And if they do, wrap me up a few to bring home with you.”

“Sirius,” Remus chides. 

“I’ll check,” James agrees easily. “Rem, do you want some chocolate ones if they have those?” 

If James could see the way your boyfriend flushes pink, he’d be grinning ear to ear. “Yes, please,” Remus replies. 

“Brilliant. And for you, lovie?” 

“I’ll just mooch off of Sirius’ blueberry ones.” You snicker when Sirius gasps, sneaking a hand around your waist to pinch at your middle. 

“Oh, perfect,” says James. “I’ll make sure to grab a few less, then, so you can really fight over them.”

“Prick,” Sirius accuses. 

“Love you, too. So, how was everyone else’s day?” 

You catch yourself smiling a second before seeing a similarly contented expression reflected on Sirius’ face. Remus moves from his armchair to the couch, and you all lean into the phone as you tell him. 

[strang3lov3]

Lavender

You receive a pleasurable massage from Ezra. (4.1k)

Tags - smut, massages, unethical!ezra, softest of soft!dom, wax play, hands in places hands shouldn't be, teasing, fingering, oral (f! receiving) masturbation, ezra creams his pants #creamernation, slight dom vibes from ezra, chamomille tea, ezra is a silvertongued menace, light foot action - assume reader has clean tootsies. Fic help - @endlessthxxghts and @beefrobeefcal thank you both for holding my hand through this!!! and for hyping me up, and for being the best part of my day!!! LOVE YOU!!! A/N - hey hey motherfuckers 😛 I hope you enjoy! First time writing Ezra and it’s for my beautiful @noxturnalpascal’s birthday that was a couple weeks ago 🩷 patti i'm not sorry for what i've done. also i love you.

After a sixteen hour drive back home from visiting your family, you’re in nothing but pain. There’s an awful, pinching feeling at your lower back, your hips and knees ache, and your neck is sore. Even laying down in your bed hurts. 

You try a couple of different solutions to remedy yourself. Ice pack, heating pad - you never know when you’re supposed to use one or the other. You try stretching, yoga, and increasing your water intake. But after four days of agony, you’ve had it. 

There’s a light-purple colored piece of cardstock that’s been hung up on your fridge by a magnet for the last few months. It’s a gift certificate to a spa called Lavender, you won it in a raffle at a charity drag show. 

Call (212) 929-5804 to schedule a 90 minute massage of your choice, and please bring this voucher with you to your appointment. 

I look forward to pleasuring you. 

-Ezra

You feel a flutter in your gut as you read those words: pleasuring you. Fuck, you’re so touch starved, and you begin to imagine what this Ezra could look like. You’re getting ahead of yourself. Before you get lost in your dirty thoughts about a massage therapist you’ve never even met before, you need to book an appointment. When you flip the card over, you see a list of services offered by Ezra. Massages of all kinds - chakra balancing, prenatal, PMS, stress-relief, hot stone, cupping, deep tissue. You’re not really sure what you’re looking for, but you schedule your appointment anyway. 

-

Friday at 6:40pm, you leave your apartment and begin walking to Lavender. It’s only about a fifteen minute walk away, which you don’t mind because the weather is cooling down and the leaves are beginning to change color. You enjoy the scenery. At 6:57, you walk into the small office for your appointment, a bell jingling as you push open the door. The shades are drawn over the windows, blocking out what little light is cast by the setting sun in the overcast sky. It smells smokey, like incense. Gentle music plays as you wait at the front desk for someone to help you. 

After a moment, a man comes out through a door behind the desk. He’s taller, his face is handsome under the low light. His hair is dark apart from a very prominent streak of white in his hairline, his beard and mustache are neatly trimmed and graying. And as he makes his way closer to you, you make out a peculiar curved scar on his cheek, right next to a sharp, aquiline nose. The man smiles warmly at you and you silently pray to any god that’ll listen that he’s your massage therapist, and not just the person working the front desk. 

“I believe you must be my 7 o’clock, yes?”

Hallelujah. 

“Yes, that’s my appointment.”

“Your name, my dove?” 

You’re going weak in the knees. He speaks in a low voice, a syrupy thick southern accent pouring from his pouty lips. You tell him your name, tripping over your syllables. The man chuckles,  “I’m Ezra. Pleased to meet you,” he says, taking your hand in his before pressing a gentle kiss to your trembling knuckles. “I sense anxiety, my dove. Would I be correct in that assumption?”

You nod. “A little, yeah. Sorry. It’s my first massage.” Ezra’s warm, chocolatey eyes roam your body and you feel flustered, “I uh - I have this…” you dig out the gift certificate from your purse, slightly crumpled now. “From the raffle at that drag show.” 

“Ah, yes,” Ezra smiles, taking the certificate from you. “Thank you,” he says, smoothing out the crinkles in the paper. He notices you tapping your fingers rhythmically on his desk, and covers your hand with his own. “There’s no need for anxiety, darlin’. You’re in good hands with me. Perhaps a cup of tea to soothe those nerves of yours before I get started with you?” 

“That’d be great, yeah,” you reply. 

Ezra opens a nearby cabinet. “What are you in the mood for this evening?”

“Not really sure,” you answer, humming as you think. “Do you have suggestions?”

“That I do,” he says. “I’d suggest somethin’ herbal, no need for caffeine so late. I’ve got peach, I’ve got chamomile vanilla…” Ezra trails off, moving various boxes in the cabinet. “Hot chocolate too, f’ya want.” 

“The vanilla one. Please.” 

“The vanilla one it shall be, then.” 

Ezra makes you a small cup of tea, sweetening it with a bit of honey per your request. He sits you down in a comfortable chair and carefully places the warm mug on an end table next to you, then hands you a clipboard. 

“Just some routine paperwork I’d appreciate if you’d fill out for me as I get your room situated. Hope that’s not an issue.” 

“Not at all.” 

Ezra thanks you and exits the room, leaving you to fill out the paperwork. It’s all the usual questions: Name, date of birth, email, phone number, emergency contact. After that it asks of any allergies, medical conditions, or major surgeries to be aware of. You answer each question accordingly, and then the last section is made up of questions about your massage preferences.

Massage type? (Chakra balancing, prenatal, PMS, stress-relief, hot stone, cupping, deep tissue) - Unsure. 

Any areas of the body that need to be focused on or avoided? - Unsure. 

Preferred pressure? (light, medium, hard) - Unsure. 

Any other preferences or details you’d like to add? - Unsure.

You click the pen and lay it on the completed paperwork, then sip your steaming tea. You wiggle your foot as you anxiously await Ezra’s return.

“I’m ready for you, sweet dove.” 

Ezra’s waiting by the door behind the front desk. You drink the last of your tea and follow Ezra into the room, where he takes his clipboard back from you. The room is dark, darker than the waiting area. It’s lit by a couple of plain candles, warm light flickering against the walls as soft piano music plays from a speaker. “Your purse,” Ezra motions for you to remove your bag, then hangs it over a hook on the door. “And your jacket, if I may,” he murmurs from behind you, hooking his fingers between the collar of your jacket and your body, waiting for you to unzip it before he pulls it off of your shoulders and hangs it up. Your skin tingles as his fingers brush over you, just a taste of what’s to come. 

“Undress for me as I go over your paperwork outside. I’ll knock on the door and wait for your word before re-entering.”  

“How much? How…” you trail off, bashful as you try to complete the sentence. Ezra knows what you’re trying to ask, though. “To your leisure, darlin’, though my suggestion would be to the nude, jewelry and all. The choice is yours. And once you’re done, lie on the table for me. You may protect your modesty with the towel I’ve provided for you right here.” Ezra pats a white towel that sits folded on the counter, next to a little crystal jewelry dish. 

Ezra leaves, gently shutting the door behind himself. He examines your paperwork behind the closed door as he hears rustling on the other side, the sound of you undressing. You leave your clothes in a pile on a chair, then cover your body with the towel. You lay on the massage table, pleasantly surprised that Ezra’s been warming it for you. You’re still a little nervous, so you focus on breathing deeply and calming yourself down as you wait to hear Ezra’s knock. You listen to the gentle piano playing, trying to place where you’ve heard this song before. 

Knock knock.

“Come in,” you call out, and Ezra opens the door. He closes it again softly and stands by the counter, readying some supplies. “What’s this song?”

“S’a piano cover of The Cure,” Ezra answers. “Last Day of Summer.” 

“Mmm. I never really liked them,” you admit. 

Ezra chuckles softly. “To each their own, I ‘spose. But I must inform you that you’re missin’ out, my dove.” 

You’re grateful Ezra can’t see your smile or your bashful expression at the pet name as you rest your face in the cradle of the table. “I do like this,” you tell him. “The piano cover.” 

“I do too. Relaxing, ain’t it?” 

“Yeah, it is. Very.” 

“Indeed. Now, I’d like to go over a couple of items on your paperwork before we commence. I believe you had stated that you’ve never received a massage before, correct?”

“That’s correct.”

“And you’re unsure of your preferences or areas of your body I should pay special attention to or avoid.”

 “That’s right, yeah.” Ezra hums in response, then goes quiet. “...I hope that’s not a problem?” 

“Worry not, dove, s’not a problem at all. Jus’ means I’ll be takin’ a more…experimental approach to massagin’ your body, s’all.”

 “Oh. Uh…experimental how?”

 “Your massage will entail the utilization of a variety of techniques, to thoroughly explore all parts of your body. By my listenin’ to both your verbal and nonverbal cues, and by checkin’ in, askin’ you questions about how you’re feelin’,” Ezra explains, “I’ll get to know your body and how best to please you. It’ll make things run nice an’ creamy for us both.” 

“O-okay. That sounds good.” 

You’re in trouble. Each of Ezra’s words, spoken through a honey-sweet tone, goes straight to your core. You wonder how slick you are between your thighs, if Ezra’ll notice. 

“I believe we’re ready to begin, then, dove.” 

Ezra lights some dragon’s blood scented incense, then washes his hands with hot water. Best not to startle you with cold hands. He approaches you on the massage table, you can smell him even through the smokey scent of the incense. He’s clean and citrusy, you wonder what cologne he wears. He places something on a rolling table and then reaches for your towel, gently tugging the tucked in ends from beneath your body. “Lift up a little for me, my dove. I don’t wanna hurt you.” 

You hoist yourself up, lifting your torso into the air so Ezra can pull the ends of the towel from under you. Cool air hits the skin of your exposed breasts, though your nipples are already hardened by your arousal. Once you lie back down, Ezra folds the towel down your torso so that only your ass and legs remain covered. “And I’ll be talkin’ you through my process, so nothin’ comes as a surprise.”

“Mm.”

“Gonna begin by drizzling some oil over your back, to keep your skin nice and properly lubricated as I massage you. Ready?”

“Ready,” you mumble. 

“But first…It seems you’ve forgotten to remove your jewelry,” he whispers, unclasping the necklace you wear. You lift slightly so that he can carefully remove the chain and pendant, then sets it down. Ezra takes the item he set on the rolling table, a massage candle that’s been burning for a while, the oil completely liquified. He holds it a couple inches above your back and then tilts it, hot oil dripping down your skin and surprising you. “My apologies, dove. I didn’t intend to startle you. You’ll get used to the warmth, I promise.” 

Ezra drips a bit more oil on your body, then sets it back down on the rolling table. “Gonna touch you, now,” he whispers. You sigh as you feel his hands finally touch your skin, calloused palms rubbing the oil from your shoulders down to your lower back. He begins by massaging your neck, thumbs sliding down your skin, over and over and over before traveling lower, massaging your traps and shoulders, the backs of your arms a little bit. His hands travel back up your shoulders where the skin meets your neck and massages with a firm pressure, causing you to wince. “Ohh, I know, I know. You’re quite tender, there, my dove. If you’d so kindly allow me to work out this tightness, I think it’d benefit you tremendously.” 

“Okay. Thank you.” 

Ezra massages you by pressing firmly into your skin, thumbs moving in circles, back and forth. “Relax,” he whispers. “Soften yourself. I’ve got you. Breathe in…” 

You draw in a deep breath, Ezra’s movements momentarily pausing. 

“...And out.” 

On your exhale, he massages the tense part of your neck, satisfied at how you’ve relaxed your body for him. He works out the tension, “Good, attagirl,” he praises, hands sliding down the rest of your back. He uses long strokes to massage up and down your spine, then your sides. You let out soft noises, noises indicating pleasure, not pain. Ezra notices how you quiet yourself, voiceless exhales instead of moans. “You don’t have to quiet yourself on my account, dove. I encourage any vocal or physical manifestation of your pleasure.”

Ezra’s hands feel like magic as they travel up and down your back, squeezing and sliding over your oiled skin. He walks his hands down your arms, down your palms, pausing when he reaches your fingers, “I believe you’ve forgotten to remove some more jewelry, darlin’. May I take these rings off of your fingers?”

“Yeah, please.” 

Ezra wiggles your rings off of the fingers of your right hand, then the left. They make soft, metallic noises as they clink against each other in Ezra’s palm. “Beautiful rings, my dear,” he murmurs before setting them down on the rolling cart, next to the necklace he’d taken off for you. Ezra massages your forearms, your wrists, your palms and fingers, first one hand and then the other. When he’s done, you hear the soft shuffle of fabric as he moves to the end of the massage table, rolling his cart with him. “I’d like to ask for consent before massaging your feet, my dove, as I’ve been kicked before by some rather ticklish clients.” 

“I’m a little ticklish, too” you admit shyly. “I can never get pedicures because of it. Have to do my toes at home.”

Ezra chuckles. “I find that firm pressure is most effective in preventing that sensation. May I try?” 

“Yes, go ahead.” 

Ezra pours a bit of oil in his hands and rubs them together before reaching for one of your feet, your toes wiggling and curling at his touch. “Shh, jus’ relax,” he coos softly, smirking at your sensitivity. With a steady, hard pressure, Ezra massages your foot. “Focus on your breathin’. It’s ‘sposed to feel good, I ain’t tryin’ to play a dirty trick on you.”

The tickling sensation is there, but with steady, deep breaths, you’re able to control it and allow yourself the pleasure of having your feet massaged. You stretch out the way a cat does when it relaxes, and Ezra smiles in satisfaction. “There it is. Feel good?”

“S’good,” you sigh. 

Ezra massages from your feet to your ankles, then folds the towel up and over your ass to expose your legs fully. He massages from your ankles up your calves, and oh - it feels incredible. You moan freely, feeling more confident to do so after his kind encouragement. You melt under his touch, arching into it as he works up your thighs, drizzling more oil before rubbing your skin. His hands are kneading the plump flesh of your ass now, one hand on each cheek, his thumbs close to your pussy. He admires that pretty diamond shape of your ass and thighs framing your bare pussy, and he notices how you drip for him. “Ezra,” his name slips from your lips in a whimper as he spreads your cheeks, rubbing his thumbs over the coarse hair that surrounds your cunt. 

“You seem quite enthused, little dove,” Ezra smirks. 

“Yeah…feel - feels good. So good, s-so…” 

“I’m pleased to hear it, my darlin’.” 

“Ezra,” you whine in betrayal when you feel Ezra’s hands leave your body, the pressure of his touch lingering on your skin. 

“My, such an ardent complaint,” Ezra remarks. “I hate to disappoint, but I implore you to trust my process. I won’t leave you dissatisfied, sweetheart.” Ezra unfolds the towel back over your body, then lifts it slightly, “Now, on your back for me.”  

You flip yourself onto your back, and once settled, Ezra folds the towel down to cover your lower half, leaving your breasts exposed. He keeps the temperature of the air in the room warm, but your nipples are hardened anyway, hardened by your arousal. Your heart pounds as you watch him, your chest rising and falling with steady breaths. You turn your head to watch him reach for his massage oil candle, your breath hitching when you see his pants visibly tented by his erection. He doesn’t bother hiding it. 

Ezra watches you with dark, sparkling eyes as he drips the oil on your body, the candlelight flickering, illuminating his handsome features with a warm glow. He massages your shoulders and your chest, hands gliding over your breasts and abdomen, then back up again. You gasp when his thumb catches your nipple, and Ezra raises an eyebrow. He circles your areola with his thumb, pinching and twisting your other nipple gently, teasing you. “Fuck,” you cry out, raising your hand to hold Ezra’s strong, muscular, veiny forearm. 

“You’re doin’ so good,” he whispers, then places your hand down at your side. He pulls the towel down your body some more as he massages down your sides and your hips, lifting one of your legs so he can massage both sides of your thigh. Your legs are spread for him, pussy on display and glistening with your arousal. “Oh, little dove. Such a mess you’re makin’ of my table.” 

You bite your lip and whine as Ezra’s fingers just barely touch your lips, achingly close to where you need his touch the most. “I’m sorry,” you whisper. 

“I don’t wanna hear you apologizin’, sweetheart. I won’t stand for it,” Ezra lays your bent leg back down, then rounds the table and lifts your other leg. “‘Sides,” he says, “S’only natural, how your body reacts to my touch. Nothin’ to be ashamed of.” 

You smile shyly as Ezra massages up and down your thigh, teasing you just how he did before. You tilt yourself into his touch, moaning as he approaches your wet cunt, waiting to feel his fingers between your folds. But you never do. 

“We’re comin’ up on the end of our appointment,” Ezra warns. “If there’s an area of your body that you feel needs special attention before we conclude, let me know.”

“Ezra–” You reach for his wrist and urge him to touch you between your thighs. 

“Something that still needs tending to, my dove?”

You nod frantically. “Please–”

“Use your words,” he interrupts, his voice low. “You have to ask me for what you want. I’m unable to alleviate your discomfort if you don’t tell me what you need, sweetheart.” Ezra’s fingers hover over your core, feeling the heat radiating from you. You stutter out something incoherent, and Ezra dips his fingers lower, ever so gently touching you. He traces your folds, waiting for your answer. “Ask me.” 

“I want you to make me come, Ezra,” you beg, “Please.” 

“I can do that in many ways. Tell me how, little dove. Tell me where you need me to touch you.” 

Ezra wears a crooked smile. This, this is his loophole. He knows that technically, as a professional, this is a line he shouldn’t cross. But he can’t help himself, you moan so sweetly for him even without his fingers buried in your cunt. Sensation is subjective, so you can’t say his teasing is intentional, deliberate. It’s your own reaction, and not Ezra’s fault if you feel aroused during massage - after all, it’s a completely natural response to physical stimulation. By making you ask - beg - for what he’s coaxed you to want from him, Ezra evades responsibility. This is on you. 

“I want your fingers in my pussy,” you breathe, pressing his thick fingers against your slick center. “Please.” 

Ezra inserts his middle and ring fingers into your dripping hole, feeling your muscles tense around his digits as he gathers your arousal. He pulls his fingers back out and then traces up and down your pussy, loving the way his fingers slip and slide through your slick folds. He circles your clit once, twice, then explores the feeling of your lips again. “Check in with me, darlin’, how are you feeling?”

You answer Ezra’s question with a mess of breathy moans, and he chuckles at that. He paints steady circles around your clit and glides his other hand over your oiled body, fingers catching your pebbled nipples. Ezra leans over and keeps his face close to yours, grinning proudly when you gasp as he pushes those two fingers of his back inside you. Your legs clamp shut around his arm as he curls his fingers rhythmically, stroking that spongy, sweet spot inside of you that makes you squirm. “Ezra, Ezra,” you cry. 

“Shhhh,” he hushes you, “Open up for me.” Ezra traces your face with his sharp nose, his hot, minty breath fanning over your skin. As you spread your legs, he bites your earlobe gently. “Stay like this now, little dove. Let me please you.” 

Ezra stands up straight again, his warm, masculine hand sliding down your sternum and your stomach, fingers reaching for that tight bundle of nerves between your thighs. As he works his fingers inside you, he circles your clit, using both hands to pleasure you. You’re close, and it’s taken no time at all. Arching your back, you tilt your head and close your eyes as you lean into his touch, focusing on your impending release. “Look at me when you come,” he commands. “Eyes on me.” 

“Fuck, Ezra–” 

“I know, little dove, I know,” he coos.

He replaces his fingers with his tongue, knees cracking as he kneels before you. By pressing a button beneath the table he lowers it, bringing you to a comfortable height for himself. You don’t notice him dipping his fingers into the candle, then shoving his hand beneath the waistband of his linen pants. He toys with his hard cock, stiff member aching, leaking just for you.

All you can focus on is the pleasure building deep in your gut. You watch Ezra, he’s gazing upon you with hooded eyes. He seems entranced by it all, the sensation of your pulsing cunt, the slick noises his fingers make while inside you. He hums at your taste, that sweet, musky flavor of your pussy. You tug his dark hair as he circles your clit with his tongue, “Fuck, right there,” you gasp. “Right there, Ezra, please.” 

As Ezra’s tongue slides over your clit, fingers steadily curling inside you, he pumps himself. His big hand slides up and down his shaft, he can feel each of his swollen, prominent veins under his palm. He grips himself tightly, fucking his fist with fervor. 

“I’m there, I’m there,” you cry. You come on his tongue with loud, frantic moans, maintaining eye contact, just like he told you to do. He works you through it, your pussy soaking his fingers, his nose, arousal dripping all the way down into his palm. Moans of pleasure shifting to noises of overstimulation, Ezra continuing to fuck you on his fingers as he fucks his fist. He groans against your cunt as he comes, painting his own hand with hot, milky ropes of his come. He drags his release out, teasing both himself and you as he comes down. 

Gently, Ezra pulls his fingers from your core, then pulls his own hand out of his pants. He turns to wash his hands at the sink but you stop him, reaching for his wrist. “N-need to taste you,” you breathe. “Let me taste you, Ezra.” 

Ezra smiles warmly. “I’m flattered by your enthusiasm to reciprocate the pleasure, little dove, but I must confess I’ve taken care of my arousal already. This is your time to relax and to immerse yourself in pleasure, not mine.”

You pout. 

“But if you desire to taste me…”

Ezra holds his hand in front of your face, fingers glistening with silky ribbons of his come. You bring his palm to your lips, then lick and suck his fingers clean of his spend, humming at the salty, heady taste. 

When done, Ezra helps you sit up. “I’ll wait out front for you to get dressed, and then we can schedule a follow-up appointment,” he says, a mischievous look in his eye. “Don’t forget your jewelry on my cart, little dove.”

Comments, reblogs, and asks are so very appreciated!! I love to hear your kind words about my work, they keep me motivated to write for you all <3

[tan1shere]

Heyy I was wondering if you could do a fic with Ellie x reader when r is on her period. Ellie doesn’t know, but she’s really hormonal, moody, and lashes out at Ellie. Eventually Ellie connects the dots and is really sweet and understanding and R just breaks down in tears saying stuff like she’s a terrible gf etc. R is also in a lot of pain with cramps and just wants to sleep and Ellie is there for her there too. I love your writing!!

You're ok

Ellie Williams x female reader!

A/n: hiii thank you 😊 I'm so glad you enjoy it, this one's just for you nonnie <3 hope you like it !!

Warnings: none really, fluffyness ! Moody reader ? -

Masterlist

Birds were chirping, the sun starting to shine in. You smiled to yourself, this was going to be a good day! Until your legs hit the floor. A wave of blood washes over your uterus. Fuck. No no- was all you could think. You groan, it was always so irregular. It was supposed to come next week. You flop back on the bed, dreading this day already. Curling back up into the sheets. Why today, you planned to do stuff, be productive. It frustrated you how your period could be. Just be normal for God sake.

"Morning baby, I made you some breakfast." You hear your girlfriends voice. You groan in pain, your cramps starting to kick in like crazy, as usual. "Not hungry." Her brows furrow. "Bu-" "I said I'm not hungry." You spit. Her brows furrow more, deciding to leave you alone at your sudden outburst. All you wanted to do was sleep and hope the day speeds up faster.

It infact didn't. The common headache starts, the cramps become more and more. You decided to get up to get some water, moody and annoyed. "You done with whatever this morning was?" "Shut up." You grumble. Exhausted, hair a mess. Her head tilts looking at you in thought. "What it up with you today." You don't reply just wanting to lay in your bed again. She hated seeing you this way. "Hello?" You then go back up the stairs to lay down.

She opens the door a few hours later grabbing a book from the bedside. Noticing you were asleep. She was trying to rack her brain what was bothering you so much, then it clicked. "Period." She whispered. Then her demeanor softens. She felt awful for not noticing. Ellie was smart she pieced it together, she got them too she knows. But she also understood how badly you got yours, especially after you missed last months.

Another hour passes and you're awake again, staring at the ceiling. Your body ached, but your mood certainly changed. You hated how your body made you treat people, your mind all over the place. You look at the clock to check the time. It was way later in the evening. You decided to get up and go see your girlfriend just wanting some comfort after today. But most importantly to apologize, for no real reason as Ellie would say. She was so understanding, always saying that there was no need to apologize. You walk down seeing her watching TV on the couch. "Ells?" You softly say.

Her head turns to look at you. "I'm sorry Ellie, I'm so sorry." - "Hey hey its fine. You're ok." She lifts the blanket. "Come here." And you do, getting under it with her. "Why didn't you tell me when you saw I didn't know yet?" You shrug lightly. "I dunno baby, I'm sorry I've been so awful and evil today." This makes her laugh. "My wicked little moody monster." Your eyes roll with a huge smile. "Youre so silly." Her hand comes in contact with your hair. "How bad have they been?" You sigh and that's enough for her to know that they were bad. "Everything aches." A sad look is present on her features. "I'm sorry angel.

Your body moves closer into her touch loving the warm feeling she gave you. Why couldn't you of just done this, this morning. Instead of lashing out. "Look at me baby." She then says pulling you out if your thoughts. "It's not your fault. It's ok, I understand now, please don't worry about this morning." She saw through you and your mind. You nodded. "We're only human bub." Her soft way made you snuggle into her more. She was truly the best.

"Will you let me take care of you now?" You nod gently. And this makes her smile stick. She loved taking care of you, it filled her with so much joy to be there for the person she loved. "Thank you for being so patient with me." You tell her. She gives you a kiss on the forehead. "I will forever be patient with you, I love you."

"I love you too."

For the rest of that night that's what she did, she made sure you ate. Had something warm on your stomach for the pesky cramps. Ran you a soothing warm bath, for the whole of your aching body. And the cuddliest cuddles to end of a horrible day.

[thehorrorgirlstyles]

Boner

Peter Parker x Stark!reader

Summary: Your dad has been keeping Peter away from you, making you want him even more, so you come up with a plan that will have Peter drooling at the site of you.

Warnings: a little smut, but not really

This is really short.

______________________________________________________________

Peter has been working on some project in the lab all day. All you wanted was to spend your thanksgiving break with your boyfriend in your bed, but Tony has been stealing him from you all week. Your break is about to be over with and school is getting ready to start back up. You need to spend time with Peter before you go back, so you thought you would gain his attention by putting on the smallest shorts you could find and a tank top that made your boobs look like you were wearing a push-up bra. You took one last glance in the mirror and headed downstairs to the lab.

As soon as you entered the lab you saw your boyfriend and dad working on his suit upgrades.

You started to head over when your dad spoke, “Y/n get out, you can have peter in a minute” he said that on Monday and it was now Friday. Peter glanced up at you and his eyes widened. You smirked knowing the effect you had on him.

“Y/n what did I say, your distracting pete-..” your dad pauses when he sees what you're wearing.

“Go change right now, you're not wearing booty shorts!” he says sternly.

“These were the only shorts I could find” you lie.

You notice that Peters still looking at you and you smile.

“Pete” you say.

He coughs and looks up to meet your eyes. “Yeah”

You smile at the way he blushes. “Can you come spend time with me?”

Just as he is about to answer your dad speaks, “Parker is busy right now, you can talk to him later”

You nod understanding that your boyfriend will never get time away from the lab or your dad. You walk out angry that you wore this outfit for no reason.

It’s 4 hours later when you hear the lab door open. You seen Peter walk out and you know that this is the only chance you're going to get.

“Hey Pete, are you finally done?” You walk towards him.

“Uh, no, I was just going to the bathroom” he looks at you and you see the desire growing in his eyes.

“Well that’s too bad, I was hoping we could spend some time in my room” you smirk at him with a knowing look.

His eyes light up and you can tell he’s thinking of your offer. “I guess a few minutes wouldn’t hurt” he responds.

Your happy at his answer and grab his hand to lead him to the elevator and up to your room.

Just as you push the button, Tony walks up to you. “Y/n I told you Parker is busy” he looks at you and you want nothing more than to tell your dad that you just want to spend time with your boyfriend.

You’ve been suffering all week, I mean how could you not be horny, your boyfriend was Peter Parker, fucking Spiderman, any girls dream man.

Peter walks away with your dad, back to the lab, and mouths a small “sorry” before leaving.

______________________________________________________________

It’s the next morning and this time you decide to try the best outfit that you have, a skin-tight black dress, to get Peter’s attention. He is an ass guy and you know he won’t be able to resist you in this.

You walk into the kitchen where he is sitting, eating cereal. When he sees you his mouth opens in awe.

You smile at him.

“You l-look really good, y/n” his eyes trail down your body.

“Thanks” you smirk at him. “Do you have time for me today?” you look at him and he’s staring at your ass.

“Peter!” you say trying to gain his attention.

“What..oh yeah, yeah I have time for you every day princess” you roll your eyes.

“Ok, meet me upstairs” you say as you make your way back to your room. He downs the rest of his cereal and runs up after you.

You wait in your room for Peter. A few seconds later he knocks on the door and you waste no time, getting straight to work.

You push Peter back on the bed and straddle him. You kiss him, while grinding on his lap. He puts his hands on your ass and guides you, letting out a soft moan at the friction.

He starts to suck on your neck, leaving hickes.

“Peter, I’ve been needing this all week” you moan into his neck.

“I’m so sorry, I’ve been neglecting my baby” he responds while spanking your ass and you let out a loud moan.

“I need you so badly Peter” you whine. He smiles into your mouth and plays with the hem of your dress. You take off his top and fumble with the zip to his jeans.

You finally get his zip down when a knock sounds on the door.

“Y/n, have you seen Peter?” your dad voice startles you.

You look at Peter silently telling him to hurry up and get his clothes back on. Tony walks in and freezes when he sees Peter sitting on your bed, while you stand next to it.

“He was up here with me” you respond.

“Yeah, we’ve been uh watching a movie” Peter adds, knowing damn well that you were 5 seconds away from having sex. You just hope your dad won’t be able to tell.

“Oh, well, I need you back in the lab, there’s a problem with the suit” your dad says, while looking between you and Peter.

Peter nods and stands up walking toward the door, when you dad stops him, “Is that a boner” he points to Peter’s boner.

“What have you guys actually been doing up here?!” he looks between you guys, angry like any parent would be. You wonder when you're ever going to get time alone with your boyfriend and hopefully it’s soon.

[turcott3]

https://www.tumblr.com/turcott3/752590033230413824/listen-here-my-concept-on-matt-was-being-a-good

This was so so sooo good I’m already anxious for another part

second, first

matt rempe x fem! reader

warnings?: cursing, kissing, smut, oral sex female receiving, unprotected sex, and copious amounts of fluff!!!!!

part 1 and masterlist

matt was coming over tonight, just like he did on the same day every week. this was gonna be the first time you’d seen him since he’d taught you how to, to be frank, suck dick. you were nervous because you knew what today was. you promised him last time that the next time you saw him would be the time you went all the way, because that’s what you said you wanted.

that scared you.

not because you didn’t trust him, you trusted him more than anything in the world, or that you didn’t want to, of course you wanted to, you were just scared that maybe he’d changed his mind. maybe he didn’t wanna have sex with you anymore.

oh my god, what if he didn’t?

what if he comes and tells you he doesn’t want to move forward? or what if he forgot, what if he’s talking to someone else? what if he doesn’t even show u-

your thoughts were interrupted by the sound of loud taps on your front door, shoving you back into reality.

“hi.” you smile lightly, one of his hands behind his back.

“hi y/n, i got this for you while i was on my way here. picked the best one” he says, presenting a single rose and handing it to you, showing you to the part of the stem that had no thorns. as cliché as it is, your heart melted at the thought.

“awe matt this beautiful, thank you so much.” you reply.

“of course,” he smiles stepping into your apartment, pulling you to his chest.

“i’m making dinner.” you smile as he follows you into the kitchen.

“i love me a women that cooks.” he smirks, a blush spreading across your face. he finds one of the vases from your cabinets and puts the rose in a fair amount of water, placing it on your counter.

“and don’t worry, there’s plenty for both of us,” you say, finishing up your cooking. you were sure to start early so that it’d be ready when he arrived, but also to help soothe your nerves.

you sat together on the couch watching a movie after you’d both finished your meal. you found yourself comfortably under his arm, your head leaned on his shoulder. two weeks ago, you’d never imagine being in this position. you couldn’t tell if it was awkward or if there was any sort of negative tension. you sat there, toying with the hem of his shorts as a way to calm your nerves. you were sat cuddled up with your childhood best friend who you were now certain that you wanted more from.

you wanted him and no one else.

“you okay?” he asks quietly, leaning his head down closer to your ear.

“oh uh, yeah i’m okay.” you reply with a week smile. quickly, he picks up the remote and pauses the movie, removing his arm from you. suddenly, you were picked up and moved, straight onto his lap. he gave you a moment to adjust, straddling his hips innocently.

fuck.

“what up with you? you’re acting so shy and quiet.” he asks again, hands placed lightly on your thighs.

“nothing matt, i swear.” you reply, making spotty eye contact with the boy.

“y/n, look at me. if you’re nervous, just tell me okay? i’m not here to embarrass you or anything like that. you know that.” he continues, thumbs rubbing lightly across the skin of your legs.

“i am nervous. i’ve been anxious since i woke up this morning.” you admit tearfully.

“come here.” he coos, pulling you to his chest, nuzzling your head under his chin.

“we don’t have to do anything if you’re not ready sweet girl.” he says, rubbing his hands soothingly up and down your back as you collected yourself for a few minutes.

“no no i do want to matt, i just-“ you paused briefly.

“tell me.” he pushes gently.

“my first time was so long ago that i feel like it’s just fizzled away, i don’t remember what it felt like. it feels like it’s my first time all over again. i’m nervous i won’t do it right.” you say sitting up.

“it’s your second, first.” he smiles, trying to crack you, which of course ended up working.

“which is why i’m so scared.” you sigh.

“don’t be scared y/n, i got you.” he replies with a sweet smile, wiping the short tears that ended up falling.

“i know.” you smile as he presses a sweet kiss to your cheek.

“do you wanna go to your bed?” he asks softly and you nod as he picks you up, carrying you back to your room, just like he’d done before. you laid your head on his shoulder as you watched the living room disappear behind your doorway. he pushes the door shut quietly, laying you down on your bed gently, connecting your lips for the first time tonight. that same feeling from last time kicked in in an instant. you wrapped your arms around, behind his neck holding him close to you. he pulls away only a few inches.

“are you ready for me?” he asks and you nod.

“i didn’t forget what you wanted by the way.” he giggles, remembering that you’d said you wanted him to perform the same actions on you, that you did on him.

“you didn’t?”

“of course not, how could i?” he laughs standing up removing his shirt as you pulled your sweats off. you stripped evenly, just as you had before, once again down to just your underwear. he reconnected your lips, his hands wandering down your torso and around your back, goosebumps trailing his rough hands. his fingers find their way under the band of your underwear, not budging yet.

“is this okay?” he asks, lightly tugging down on your panties.

“yes.” you replied nervously as he carefully pulled them down, tossing them to the side. he pulls you by your ankles closer to the end of your bed.

“tell me if you want to stop.” he says before kissing up your inner thigh, his hands gripped on the outside of them. you grew wet as the heat of his breath grew closer to your pussy and gasped as his tongue made careful contact. your hands balled up the sheets in your fists.

“oh fuck.” you groan, squeezing your eyes shut. you couldn’t believe how he was making you feel. his tongue swirling and sucking on your clit, pushing you further along than you ever thought you could. you grew impossibly hornier as you looked down and locked eyes with the brunette who was tongue deep in your wetness. this moment of eye contact didn’t last long as your eyes rolled into the back of your head, your orgasm coming incredibly close.

“matt.” you moaned, tugging on the boys hair as he continued, his lips sucking one last time before pulling away, your wetness soaking his face. you yanked him by his wrists back to you, anxiously attaching your lips, not carrying that his face was buried between your legs just seconds ago.

“fuck that was hot.” he giggles pulling away.

“you’re hot.” you reply shoving him away giggling.

“are you sure you want to keep going?” he asks.

“yes, i’m sure.”

“okay baby, all you need to do is just relax. lay there looking fucking beautiful and i’ll guide you through everything, just like he should’ve done the last time. that okay?” he asks, unclasping your bra with ease, helping you tug it off your arms. you nod your head vigorously in response.

“no, use your words y/n. i need to hear you say that it’s okay.” he says tossing the bra onto the floor.

“yes matt, that’s okay.” you respond loving his pushy thoughtfulness. you truly felt protected and cared for by him, in every possible scenario. you’d never felt more comfortable. he made sure you were safe and went out of his way to make the night about you, just like last time.

“okay.” he smiles, leaning down to kiss you once again before removing his boxers, revealing his already hard cock. you’d almost forgotten how big he actually was. you went wide eyed as he jerked himself off a few times, growing impossibly harder.

“baby, eyes up here. just look at me okay. i don’t want you to be nervous.” he says lowly, your eyes diverting to his brown ones.

“i’m scared that it’s gonna hurt matt, you’re so big.”

“i won’t hurt you angel, i wouldn’t dream of it. i’ll go slow. remember, this is about you and your body, not mine.” he says positioning himself above you, running his thick cock through your soaking folds.

“tell me when you need a second.” he says.

“okay.” you reply as you gripped onto his biceps. slowly, he pushed his tip into you, earning an audible hiss from you. he stops abruptly and pulls away for a moment.

“relax. just breathe okay, it’s gonna be fine.” he giggles, knowing that he couldn’t push further until you fully relaxed your body.

“sorry.”

“don’t apologize. you can trust me baby, i promise.” he repeats, reaffirming why you’d chosen him to share this intimate moment with. he repeats his action, pushing his head in a little bit further, your grip on his biceps growing stronger. he pushes a little bit further, a bit of his shaft entering as well.

“stop.” you say gritting your teeth.

“take your time y/n. no rush.” he says as you nod for him to push further. you still felt sharp pain but chose to power through, allowing him to finally bottom out, not yet moving further. you felt full, no more room for a single other inch.

“okay you can move, just go slow.” you say and he nods, beginning to retract his hips, that feeling of fullness disappearing as his cock slid out of you. it hurt almost as badly as he thrusted back into you slowly, your hands moving to his cheeks, pulling him to your lips, distracting yourself from the subsiding pain. his thrusts became slightly quicker, just as deep and thorough as before. you only broke apart the kiss when a moan was ripped from your throat, euphoria washing over your body.

“that’s my girl.” he giggles above you before tucking his head into your neck, sucking and upping on the skin of your neck as his hips snapped into you smoothly. the sound of skin slapping started to catch up to the volume of your moans.

“god matt, you feel so fucking good.” you whine as you tug on his hair, his head still nuzzled under your chin, his hands now placed underneath your back, holding you flush against his chest. you tugged him away from your neck locking eyes with him as his thrusts somehow became deeper and harder.

“fit so perfect around me.” he grunts out, reattaching your lips. his kisses started to feel like oxygen to you. like you couldn’t function unless your lips were on his. you couldn’t believe the feelings he gave you. they were so complex, yet you knew exactly what you were feeling toward him. you felt so taken care of by him, even in this moment. he paid attention to detail putting your pleasure first.

“i think im gonna cum.” you moan, squeezing your eyes shut.

“come on baby, let go for me. cum on my cock.” he says, his hips snapping sharply into you, your moans moving up an octave. instantly, you felt your whole body relax. shockwaves of pleasure shuttering through your body as you shook vigorously through your orgasm.

“such a good girl.” he says lowly, fucking you all the way through your high.

“i’m getting close.” he grunts as you smile, enjoying the feeling of your orgasm fizzling away as you were fucked right through it, sad once the feeling of his cock disappeared from inside you.

“oh fuck.” he moans, spurting his climax onto your stomach, jerking himself dry. he stays over you for a moment catching his breath.

“stay right here, okay? i’m gonna clean you up.” he says and you nod as he walked to the bathroom, returning with a damp rag, carefully wiping away the cum from your lower abdomen. the two of you climbed under the covers facing each other.

“i give you an A+ on the munch.” you joke and he laughs.

“i’m glad it was good.” he giggles.

“matt it was more than good. everything was fucking incredible. god it felt so fucking good.”

“that’s exactly what you deserve y/n.” he replies with a light giggle, moving your hair off of your face.

“like you don’t understand, i’ve never felt that, fuck i don’t even know how to say it. i’ve never felt that cared for in my life.” you giggle, interlocking your fingers with his.

“i love you y/n,” he starts, startling himself, “oh shit did i just say that out loud?” he giggles, covering his mouth quickly, the two of you laughing together.

“i love you too matt.” you reply.

“for real?” he responds, eyes wide.

“yes matt, i fucking love you.” you say, placing your hands on his cheeks before turning him over and climbing onto his lap.

“oh my gosh, i don’t even know what to say.” he says, blushing nervously.

“don’t get all nervous on me now.” you giggle as he pulls you to his chest.

“and you’re never gonna have to go without me ever again.” he says into your hair, kissing you on the head.

your heart melted at the sound of his voice reassuring you that you’d never have to go another day without his love for you. you’d never felt more content in your life and you couldn’t believe you’d finally found a love that you’d always dreamed of, with someone you’d known your entire life.

it was right in front of you all along.

had you been ignoring your feelings all this time? or was this new?

you didn’t know, nor did you care at this point because you knew you’d found the love of your life. the search was finally over.

-

[stevie-petey]

episode five: the flea and the acrobat

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

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

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

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

words: 14.4k (whew)

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

-

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

“Y/N?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Your shoulders slump. “Is it that bad?”

“It started this morning,” 

“Lucas!”

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

“Backup?” You ask. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Not now, Mike.”

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

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

“Sometimes,” she shrugs. 

“Lovely.” 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Oh, just wait.” Lucas snorts. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Dustin sighs. “Yes, Y/N?”

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

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

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

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

“And ‘empty’.” Lucas adds. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Upside down.”

“What’d she say?” Lucas asks.

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

“What?” 

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

“God, took you long enough.”

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

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

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

“Exactly! Dark. Empty.” 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Do I wanna know?”

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

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

“The Upside Down.” You finish for him. 

“The Upside Down.” Mike confirms. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

You don’t bother to ask what that means. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

Speaking of which:

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

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

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

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

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

“Noted.” 

– 

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

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

Right. Will’s funeral is tomorrow. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“What-”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Touche, bee.” 

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

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

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

Nance?

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

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

“A girl?”

“Yeah, she’s bald.”

“Okay… is that important or…?”

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

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

No I can’t.

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

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

“Well, she kinda has… powers?”

“Powers,”

“Powers.”

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

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

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

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

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

“Guess I don’t really have a choice.”

“You don’t.” 

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

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

“You don’t have to-”

“I know.” 

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

“Bug?” Jonathan is practically whispering. 

“Yeah?”

“Lonnie is here.”

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

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

“Leave your mom with him?” You finish. 

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

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

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

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

Like how I love you?

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

“Goodnight,”

“Sleep well.”

– 

You’re up before the sun this morning.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“They’re your favorite.”

“And Will’s.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

You’d do anything for him. 

– 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Hey, Y/N.” 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“It started the night after Will disappeared…”

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

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

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

Huh. 

You hadn’t thought of it that way. 

“Ya know, you make a good point.”

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

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

“What’s that?” You ask. 

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

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

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

“Sorry,”

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

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

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

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

“I’m sorry,” her tone is sincere.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Actually, what are you guys going to do?

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

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

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

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

“We don’t know that-”

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

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

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

– 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

He shrugs, “It doesn’t hurt to try?”

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

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

– 

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

This worries you. 

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

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

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

Dustin looks enthralled. “Like a gate?”

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

“Theoretical.” Lucas says, nodding his head.

A gate?

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

You sigh, not liking the odds at all.

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

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

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

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

“Well, if it did I think we’d know.”

You snort. “Wanna bet?”

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

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

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

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

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

Silence falls upon the table. 

Mr. Clark is such a peachy person.

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

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

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

“No.”

“You don’t even know what we’re-”

“No.”

“Can you at least let me-”

“Sure,”

“Really?”

“No.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

They stare at you as if you’re insane.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

– 

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

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

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

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

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

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

“I know, but monster hunting sounds cooler.”

“Bless you, bee.” 

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

And you?

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Maybe you could talk nicely to it?”

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

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

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

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

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

“Bug, what are you-”

“Let’s go for a walk.” 

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

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

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

“Do you really believe Will is alive?”

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

“Feel him?”

“Yeah, I know it sounds crazy but…”

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

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

“Oh, you know what I mean, bee.” 

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

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

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

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

“Oh, did I?”

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

“The threads are the reason it all happens?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

It’s too much. It’s all too much. 

And then suddenly Jonathan leans in. 

Maybe you’re imagining it. 

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

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

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

“Hey! Guys!”

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

You want to scream. 

Of course it’s Nancy fucking Wheeler. 

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

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

Best friend. 

The words hurt more than they should, really. 

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

“Did I miss something or…?”

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

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

Will, Barb, the monster. 

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

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

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

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

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

“Y/N, did you try shooting?” 

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

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

“You’re awful at this, bee.”

“Yeah,” Nancy agrees.

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

She scoffs. “Have you met my parents?”

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

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

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

Lovely. 

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

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

“I didn’t know that, I’m sorry Y/N.” 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Nancy Wheeler, the perfect enigma.

Suddenly it clicks. 

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

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

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

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

Clearly there’s no room for you here. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

And there it is again. 

Nance.

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

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

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

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

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

– 

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

Then there’s Steve, oddly enough. 

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

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

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

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

Like hell those kids really stayed out of the woods. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

“You won’t yell at me?”

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

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

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

“Like hell we were gonna listen to you.” 

“Yeah, I know.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

“She screamed?”

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

“She what-”

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

“He was knocked unconscious?”

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

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

Maybe you don’t want superpowers. 

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

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

“And El?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

– 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Great. He brought the idiots.

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

“I almost had it,” you glare at him. 

“Sure ya did.”

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

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

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

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

He frowns. “Why would Byers be here?”

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

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

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

Shit.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

A wave of nausea hits you.

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

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

“It’s not like that-” 

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

More nausea hits you. “No,”

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

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

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

All you feel is nausea. 

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

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

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

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

No. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

Will has to come first. 

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

-

⌑ series masterlist

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[miley1442111]

(part 7) choices on the court- a.donaldson

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a/n: this is kind of a bad and i hate it but i need to post it to make the next part make sense so sorry that it's awful the next part is actually good i promise :) i'm posting them together but like... it just makes sense in my head ok sorry :)

summary: the confrontation where you find out about a few things. (dw there are more parts after this :))

pairing: art donaldson x reader, patrick zweig x reader

warnings: angst, feelings of disappointment and depression, hurt, cheating, sexual content, etc. +

PART 7 of 12

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Art felt like his world had been crashing down around him for months even though he was getting what he wanted. He had Tashi (despite their break-up that lasted a week), he was going pro, and he had all the deals and things he wanted. But he didn't have you. He felt like a lonely idiot, and he lost a lot of enjoyment for things. Tennis was a job, not a passion. Seeing you on the courts, watching you work was the highlight of his days, thank god he had the Nike deal.

But it nagged at him. You were fucking Patrick. You were fucking Patrick even though he'd know about his infidelity and not told you, just like Art hadn't. What was so special about Patrick?

----------------------------

You stood on the court, Art on the other side. 

“You’re fucking Patrick?” He tried to keep his tone even, but he knew he failed by the way you served the ball. 

“Why do you care? You got Tashi, you got what you wanted,” you hit the ball back and forth with so much strength Art narrowly hit it back. 

"I never said I have anything I want," He hit the ball back.

"So what do you want? Two girls at the same time?" you scoffed. "Just admit that you're contented with your life and move on, it's fine Art, I'm happy for you and Tashi just like you should be happy for me and Patrick."

"So you and Patrick are a 'thing' now?" Art missed the ball, then served it back to you with a ridiculous amount of force. The tension on the court was aplpable, certain words being punctuated by the slap of the ball against your rackets. You were both angry. Though, he had no right to be. He'd cheated on you. He's the asshole.

"Yeah, we are," you shrugged. "Just like you and Tashi are a thing."

“I don’t want Tashi! I never wanted Tashi!” He shouted back, dropping his racket and ultimately ending the game. “I wanted- I want you.”

“Then why did you fuck her?” you asked mockingly, laughing in his face. “Oh yeah, because you’re a fucking asshole who never cared about me!” 

“I care about you!” He shouted back. “I care about you enough to tell you that Patrick isn’t good for you!”

“And how would you know that? At least he doesn’t cheat on me!”

“It’s not like he’s completely innocent either,” he scoffed. “He watched. He watched me fuck Tashi.”

Your heart broke for a third time. How could you be so stupid.

“What?” you asked, lowering your voice. You noticed Patrick out of the corner of your eye and Tashi entering from the other entrance. “Is that true? You three all knew and none of you told me?!”

There was silence on the court. 

“Fucking answer me!” you screamed. 

“Yeah. No one told you,” Tashi answered. 

“Great. Y’know, keep me out of your weird fucking threesome bullshit from now on, please? It really shouldn’t be that fucking hard, considering you all seemingly hate each other. Just keep your heads out of your cocks, alright?” You shouted storming off the court. 

There was a silence over the court for a few moments. 

Then;

“Fuck you!” Art screamed. 

“Oh fuck me? Fuck you!” Patrick laughed. “You broke her heart, all I did was break her fucking hymen!”

“Fuck both of you! You’re both assholes!” Tashi shouted from the bleachers.

The boys looked at each other. “Fuck us?” they said in unison.

“You’re the one who pitted us against each other for your attention, then made our careers about you,” Patrick commented.

“ Tashi, you’ve been awful to her. You tried to sabotage her biggest match,” Art mentioned. 

“Fuck you,” they said in unison once again. 

----------------------------

Three months later…

“Hey,” You smiled, feeling giddy from the copious amounts of alcohol you’d consumed. 

“Hey,” Art smiled back, just as drunk as you. 

You’d gone back to your dorm. You’d kissed him. It felt good. 

“I’m so sorry-” he tried to apologise for well… everything. But all you wanted was to have sex and pass out.

“Shush!” You hushed him and giggled, pulling off your t-shirt and bra. Art’s eyes widened, then he smirked. His lips latched onto yours as you undressed yourselves and landed on his bed. You laid back as Art took his time kissing you. Your lips, your face, your neck, your chest, your stomach, all the way down to your core. 

“Art,” you moaned. “Please.” 

The haziness of the alcohol was getting to him and he was beginning to feel much too tired, but he’d be damned if he let another chance with you pass him by. “What do you want, baby?”

“You,” you moaned breathlessly. “You.”

A sense of pride blossomed in Art's chest. You wanted him. You were with him. Here, he wasn't second best to Patrick, nor was he controlled by Tashi. He was with you. His dream girl. "You have me, baby."

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You’d felt so stupid when Art wasn’t there in the morning. Why did you trust him? Why did he do that? 

Why, why why?

You two didn’t talk again. Well, not until about eleven years later. 

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[bakugoushotwife]

kinktober day seventeen: sex pollen kink

>>> god i love me some yuuta he is such a beautiful angel and deserves this! this started out as face-fucking kink but turned into this for storyline purposes LMFAOOO

>>> starring: yuuta okkotsu x curvy!f!reader >>> cw: sex pollen theme, pining, jealousy, face-fucking, oral (f!receiving) creampie, swallowing, doggy, headlock! oops!! >>> wc: 4.5k >>> event masterlist

you two make a dynamic duo. this was evident after he joined the school, drawn to you inexplicably. you were bubbly, funny, beautiful, and immensely talented, and you were the first person to smile at him. you became fast friends, and if he wasn’t sent out with toge, he was sent out on missions with you—where he quickly learned that your technique is beautifully complimentary to his own. you confused him though. you were incredibly pretty—non-sorcerers and classmates from jujutsu tech and her sister school approached you all the time, and you always politely turned them down. all sweet smiles and your caring voice humming out, “oh, thank you—i’m flattered, really, just—focused on working!” 

you always were so kind, even if you had a good sense of sarcastic wit. yuuta got a taste of your spirited jokes and only grew more enamored with you, silently thanking the gods above for your gentle crushing of other men’s interests in you. but you never seemed too interested in him, hence why he was so confused when you glared at him and stomped away when he agreed to a date with maki zen’in during your third year. he didn’t realize that he was choosing something bigger at the time, deciding that if you weren’t into him he should try to move on—he should just focus on your friendship instead of all the boys throwing themselves at you and all the nights he spent wondering if you would give him a chance.

but things were never the same after that. you asked toge to take any mission you were sent on with yuuta, and you kept to yourself. panda was disappointed. he thought you would have fought for him, but you didn’t want to embarrass yourself going after a man who didn’t want you back. you mostly stick to yourself, mingling with toge and some of your underclassmen when necessary. you run solo missions and spend your time in your room or training, all in an effort to avoid him entirely. you hated how weak the whole thing made you feel. you hated being jealous of maki, someone who had done nothing to you and had been a great friend; you hated being away from yuuta, but you knew it would be worse to stick around and pretend that you’re happy for him. 

he didn’t know he’d lose you completely. god knows he wouldn’t have tried this if he thought it meant you would stop sitting next to him in class and start sparring with toge during training instead. he missed you. you used to sneak into his dorm a few nights a week to watch movies and lay your head on his shoulder. you used to hint at your favorite boba until he got it for you on missions in the city. you used to use your curse copying technique to boost his own, paired with the increase in cursed energy output powering his; fights don’t feel like they used to, especially without your arrogant smile as you two dismantle yet another assignment in record time. it was awful, and everyone could tell that he was miserable. that’s why yuuta and maki’s relationship didn’t last much longer after the school year ends. he celebrates his birthday wondering if he should call you—and you spend the day typing and deleting a ‘happy birthday i miss you’ text. 

your final year of school starts, and you continue to debate with yourself over approaching him. it’s been months since you spoke, and you’re struggling to find the right words to say after all this time and distance. how could you explain yourself? ‘oh hey, sorry for dropping you, it was actually because you dated someone other than me.’ that’s hardly a convincing apology—and you don’t even know if he wants to see you. it had been a lonely several months without him, due to your own irrationality and instability, but still. you couldn’t bring yourself to stick around and yearn for him while he was in a relationship. now that he isn’t…things could be different. you decide to find him after you get settled into your dorm. you’re almost finished up, so you hurry out to grab the rest of your things. 

yuuta can’t stop looking for you. it’s your final move in day, and he has to see you. he wants to make sure everything will be okay between the two of you. he knows what room you’ll claim he just has to make the walk from the boys’ building to the girls’. he’s nervous to see you, but he’s excited, too. it all made sense to him now. you did have feelings for him after all, and he stomped all over them whenever he started dating maki. he understands why you distanced yourself even if it hurt him beyond words. but everything could be fixed now, he could admit the truth with the extra boost of confidence that understanding your absence gave him. he could make the first move with the reassurance, he actually cracks a little smile at the thought of your reconnection and acting on the feelings he’s tried to ignore for so long. 

then he sees you, and his smile spreads. he almost calls out your name, until he notices choso next to you, carrying what looks to be the remainder of your stuff towards your dorm. you seemed relaxed and cheerful, smiling softly and talking beside him as he nodded and gave the occasional grin to whatever you were saying. so this is what it felt like for you, then, huh? he supposed it was only a matter of time, every man you came across was charmed by you—and rightfully so. you must have finally decided to move on like he did, but it still feels like he’s been stabbed in the heart with a white hot blade. he’s standing on the sidewalk, rooted in place as choso opens the door for you even with the heavy stuff he’s carrying. you duck under his arm adorably, probably giggling out a thank you as you lead him to your bedroom. yuuta might be sick. 

but he has no place to. he did this to you, worse—in front of your face. at least you have no idea that he’s watching you. even as his heart crumbles in his chest and he does an about face back towards the boys’ dorms, he tries to make himself smile. he’ll be happy for you. this is all his fault. 

the rest of the day passes without you being able to find yuuta. you did run into choso while you were outside of your building. he and yuji were helping nobara out, but the former noticed you struggling to juggle all your things and offered to assist you too. you’ve worked with him before as well, so you didn’t think anything of it as you led him to your room to set everything down. you catch up with him for a bit and thank him for his help before you dismiss yourself in an effort to find your former best friend before curfew. it was a fruitless search. toge hadn’t seen him since he moved in, and panda still hadn’t arrived. he’d leave everything to the last minute. so with sadness settling in your gut, you return to your dorm and prepare for the first real day tomorrow. 

it’s no surprise that the first day means missions for the fourth years. yaga gives a whole spiel on how you all are adults now and all grade one or special grade sorcerers at this point in time. so he partnered toge and maki for a mission in nagoya, panda got a solo mission here in tokyo, and then he sent you and yuuta on a mission in osaka. 

his heart sank. there was no way he could get anyone to take his spot. he would be forced to walk alongside you and pretend he isn’t horribly depressed. you would mostly likely try to reconcile, and he missed you so horribly he would take you back in any vicinity. he wanted to fix things, to make things how they were supposed to be, and you’re supposed to be his girl. but what could he even do? maybe he would have you under his arm for this mission if he hadn’t been so brain dead. he can only blame himself, so yuuta extends the olive branch first. 

he waits for you at the gates. you can see the hilt of his sword as you round the top of the hill, and you swallow hard. you couldn’t help but think he was still avoiding you after looking for him for the better part of a day yesterday, so what would you say to him now? his grayish blue eyes meet yours, and you smile simply from the warmth that builds in your chest at the sight of him. he mirrors your smile easily, and it turns out you two can pick up right where you left off like nothing had ever happened. 

it’s relief. you were both so nervous that too much damage had been done. you wondered if the distance had grown so wide you couldn’t bridge the gap, and he could only think the same, but as soon as you joined his side, conversation flowed freely and laughter followed after. and even as the idea of you and choso nagged at his mind, he knew choso would never know you like he does. he would never fight alongside you so expertly, nor have all the history that the two of you have. if that’s all he’s got, then he can make it through this.  

the mission itself was a bit more of a struggle, for once. you blamed it on the fact you hadn’t coordinated attacks in months, but this grade one cursed spirit had way too many abilities and tactics to use against the two of you. you have the ability to copy cursed spirits techniques after they touch you, but it seemed as if this spirit had several different styles. they were spreading what appeared to be a fertilizer of some sort over the ground and walls, you couldn’t get close enough to it to touch, and you weren’t sure that copying this technique was going to be very helpful. 

“i’ll just boost your energy—we’ll have to fight the normal way.” you determine through a pant. none of your attacks had worked as planned so far. yuuta unsheaths his sword, chewing on the inside of his lip. he nods, seemingly analyzing the spirit and their dust to decide what he would do next. he surveys the abandoned ward of the hospital you were standing in, locating hiding spots.

“i’m going to sneak around, you try to keep it distracted?” he suggested, and you roll your eyes. it’s hardly a glorious plan, but you relent in it, letting him make the first moves would be more effective and decisive for the rest of the fight. he grins at your signature attitude, and jumps high into the sky. you chuckle at his showmanship, then run at the blob-looking cursed spirit with a whistle. you twirl your spear, watching as yuuta drops down in the dust behind it. his sword stabs through it a moment later, and you’re close enough to get your spear into the mix. at the impact, the spirit starts spitting out that powder, and you get a face full of it. 

you sputter and wipe at your face, trying to get it out of your eyes as you stumble back. the spirit laughs, while yuuta digs his sword into their flesh and tries to soothe your worries. 

“it’s harmless!” he calls out, yanking his sword out of its back and circling to the front to retrieve your spear. “just get it out—you’re okay!” 

the spirit laughs again, the glob-like substance melting into a pile as yuuta stabs it again, this time with the intent to exorcize it. “hardly, little woman!” the beast calls out in an automated croak. “cum is the only cure, female—you will die!” it laughs wildly, turning into a liquid under the pressure of yuuta’s energy. his eyes widen as you make a strangled noise of disbelief. 

you’re not sure if you’re blinking in shock or still recovering from its dust in your eyes, but you stumble back as it fully disappears. yuuta rushes to your side as soon as it’s over. you’re going to die? unless you…do something extremely lewd? he’s blushing deeply but it’s clearly out of concern for your life, of course. he’s disappointed in himself for letting you get affected. he imagined it had to get in the bloodstream to be effective since he was fine, but he could tell with one look at you that you were not. 

your eyes were heavily lidded, lips parted in a perfect pout as you stood on wobbly legs. you were covered in a thin layer of sweat, and he could see your hands pulling at your uniform—and your inner battle to get yourself to stop. he walks towards you, concerned beyond belief. you would die if he didn’t help, and you do look so intoxicating like this…

“don’t come any closer—please.” you choke out, feeling around behind you to find a wall to back yourself against. your entire body coursed with uncontrollable heat and need, your pussy throbbing painfully. everything was intensified, your heaving chest, the smell of the man you’ve wanted for years, and the searing lust he looked at you with. you started to shake, and he knew he couldn’t obey your command. “i can’t control myself right now, please, oh my god–” you whine out as his warm and slightly callused hands cup your hot cheeks. 

“you heard it…you’ll die..” he says softly, wide and concerned eyes searching yours. he wasn’t under the same pressure, but his heart was racing and his dick was hurting at the prospect of fucking his crush. his tongue darts out to wet his lips. he looks almost as nervous and needy as you do. “i just got you back—and i’m definitely not letting you die.” 

you’re insatiable, the touch only made your brain fuzzy and scream out for more, your hands reach up for his forearms, whining weakly as the connection doesn’t satisfy you at all. “oh yuuta–it hurts so bad.” you pout, the look you give him is so pathetic he almost whines with you. “h-help me, please~”

he nods and smashes his lips on yours. you let out an animalistic grunt in relief, throwing your body at him and taking the kiss from heated to dangerous, your teeth gnashing and tongue poking at his bottom lip to get even closer. he can’t help but contemplate the words of the curse, they simply said cum was the cure. does that mean his or yours? and where? he doesn’t mind trying everywhere. 

you pull back, but your arms stay around his neck, hands knitted in his soft locks. “my clothes–god it feels like i’m burning.” he gently pushes you off of him so he could help you find relief, popping the buttons on your top and letting out a shaky sigh at the sight of your breasts spilling over your bra. he snakes his hands around your back, slender fingers working quickly to unlatch the clasps. he does let out a little moan this time—your tits sag when your bra drops, and yuuta pushes all the fabric off your upper half and his hands knead at your chest instantly, causing you to wail and moan. he’s trying to be normal, but this is anything but. he’s spent many a night with his fist wrapped around his dick, thinking about the first time he would have you, but it never went like this. he’s hardly complaining though, you’re so sensitive and your noises are so pornographic he’s trying not to bust in his pants. 

“i’m gonna start crying–” you sniffle, none of his touches were satisfying you like you needed, it was getting unbearable. you were burning up and your pretty eyes were filling with tears of needy frustration. he whimpers at the sight and hurriedly peels his own clothes off, shaking his head in worry. 

“oh, don’t cry! i’m here—i’ll..i’ll make it better!” he nods, hooking his fingers under your skirt, shoving it to the perfect dip of your waist. he looks at your soaked panties, and his heart stops. he’s really going to do this, you aren’t even in your right mind—he can’t help but feel like he’s taking advantage of you. 

“yuuta–please, i want you so bad, need you!” you cry out, crumbling to your knees before him. you paw at his pants, untying his belt and yanking at the sides of his pants hungrily. he gasps at your desire. he was perfectly happy to please you only, wanting to save you more than anything—maybe other than this, you looking up at him with your lip between your teeth as his dick springs free, slapping against his stomach and making you moan out before you grab him. “fuck my mouth, okay–i need your cum, you heard it.” you sigh, eyes hazy with need as you lean in and kitten lick his pink tip.

his hand flies to your head, and he shudders just from that. you admire the sight of him, long and leaning to one side, cutely trimmed and a leaky slit meant just for you. “hope you didn’t let maki touch you—wanna feel all of it down my throat.” you rub your thighs together, fingers blindly playing with yourself to keep you from going insane. 

he blinks a bit at your profession of jealousy—and then he remembers choso. “aren’t you dating yuji’s brother?” he confronts, jutting himself forward a bit to see himself splayed along your perfect tongue. you huff at the accusation, brows furrowing as you shake your head. 

“never date anyone but you—” you confess, speech starting to slur. you aren’t able to think as clearly, all you can crave is his dick in your mouth, so you swallow him up. your nose tickles the dark patch of hair above his base, pretty teary eyes batting up at him as you moan around his cock. you want him to be rough? okay. he’ll do that for you–your life is on the line after all. he slides his hands to your cheeks as you work your way along him, up and down at such a sensual pace he’s a moaning mess like he’s affected by the technique. his noises only cause more of your own, his weighty tip hitting the back of your throat and making you gag each time. he makes it worse when he decides to apply pressure, holding your head still and moving his hips instead. he fucks your face brutally, you didn’t think he had it in him. tears run down your face and gags and moans are all to be heard. he looks so good, brows set forward in focus and his pink lips parted to let his whimpers free. he tastes even better, and you think you cum when he does, his thick ropes hitting the same spot his dick was, but you swallow it all down anyway and lick your lips—waiting for more. he shudders, this was far too much for him to handle, he didn’t know how he could return to normal after this. 

“let me see you now.” he blurts out, sitting on his knees like you. he crawls closer to you, easing you to lay back on the floor. you’re not too good for it, especially not if it meant yuuta was going to make you feel better. you were frantic with need, spreading your legs as soon as you felt his touch to them, he sees your soaked panties again, and his semi perks all the way back up again. “can i take them off?” 

“fuck–please, yuuta, can’t take it anymore—put your mouth on me!” you call out his name so desperately he can’t help but wonder if you would be so slutty had someone else gone on this mission with you. the thought quickly disappears when he remembers your declaration, that you’d never wanted anyone but him, and he wants to ask if it’s true. surely he has time, you’re starting to look like pure sex and as bad as he wants to destroy you, he has to do so in good faith. 

“did you mean it—that you wouldn’t date anyone but me?” he asks, peeling your sloppy underwear away from your drenched cunt. you nod quickly, the cold air making you shiver with anticipation. you buck your hips toward him a little, still nodding. 

“why d’you think i stopped talkin’ to you? you chose her over me.” you pout, and he feels the guilt pang at his heart again as he picks your hips up off the floor, hooking his arms around your thighs. 

“it was a mistake–i didn’t know you wanted me–”

“i love you—don’t just want you–need you, pleaseee we’ll talk later!” you squirm in his grip and he snaps into it. your words push him to new heights, you love him. you love him and you need him more than anything, and god he would make sure you never regretted it. his tongue parts your lips and he grows ravenous immediately at the taste of you. he sucks at it, wanting as much of you on his taste buds as he could get. you mewl and pant immediately, bucking into his face and moaning at the way his nose collides with your clit. you can’t reach him with the angle he holds your hips at, helpless and only able to play with your own chest as he devours you. he slides his tongue inside you, groaning at how tight you are. he knows you’re going to squeeze his cock like a vice. you cry out his name in response, and it drives him crazy. white hot need flows through his veins and it's not enough to hear you. he needs to feel you cum in his mouth, feel you buck and writhe in his arms just like this–it makes him feel like the man you need. and the more you call his name, the more he believes he is. 

he tongue fucks you for a minute or two, just stroking your walls and tasting your insides. it makes you moan lowly, a purr almost, but when he slides his tongue up to your clit, your sounds turn higher, towards screams. it makes him feral, his teeth scrape against your hood and you lurch forward, whining to touch him. he makes out with your cunt, watching your face contort with pleasure. 

“i’m gonna cum for you, oh–yuuta!” you warn in a broken wail, and he moans against you, waiting for you to coat him in your juice. your legs clench around his head, shaking and jerking as your release hits you in waves. he works you through it, licking two fingers in preparation to work you open, but you shake your head. “please, please fuck me, can’t wait anymore–.” you press your legs to his face again, the need almost worse now that you’ve cum once. 

“it’s gonna hurt–” he winces, though the brain in his dick agrees with you wholeheartedly. 

“it already hurts—please, please, if you care about me at all, just..please!” you sigh out, thrashing in his arms as you plead. how could he deny you when you talk like that, especially if it will make you think he doesn’t care about you. 

“i care about you—i love you too, i–i’ll help you, i’m here.” he stammers around, lowering your legs to his hips. he angles his leaky cockhead against your hole, and your head falls back at the feeling and his confession. you nod, reaching for his hands that support your weight. 

“good—then fuck me like you love me.” you pant, your body so glorious and splayed wide just for him. he’s in heaven, and he can’t fight off his need any longer—especially if this was what you wanted, what you were begging him for. he fits his tip past your tight hole, sinking his length deeper in fluid strokes. you moan wantonly, and the sounds make his body tingle. you’re walking sex, he’s always thought that, but seeing you underneath him only confirmed your perfection. you nod your encouragement, even thrusting your hips up to meet him, and the pressure makes his eyes roll back. 

he fills you up like he was made to, squeezing between your walls and kissing your cervix once he’s in to the hilt. his fingers dig into your meaty hips, slamming your body down on him repeatedly until you’re both a mess of moans and sweat and heavy breathing. you squeeze down on him, mumbles of his name bless his ears and cause his dick to jump. 

he turns you over, hoping you can still support yourself on all fours. you shake, but hold yourself up, arching your back for him to slip his cock back in without a struggle. he faces no resistance, your juices dribble down your thighs and all around him, gurgling and squelching once he’s nestled inside. you moan at the new angle, only intensified by him laying over your back and catching your neck in his arm, adding support for your pathetic frame. he’s got you in a headlock, his hips driving into your round ass, the sounds of his gentle grunting sing in your ear. you’re so close, backing into him like you’ll never have the chance to fuck again–which he can assure you would not be the case. 

“yuuta–’m gonna cum ‘gain, gonna give yours to me?” you whine out, panting and struggling through your smooshed cheeks. he nods like you can see him, sweat dripping on your back. you massage him so well that he’s surprised he made it this long. 

“yes, i have to make sure you’ll be okay.” he sighs, stilling as a loud moan rips from his throat as he floods your insides, noting that he would have to buy a pill to make sure this didn’t turn into a lasting problem at your young adult age. it feels so good though, he doesn’t know how he would ever fuck you differently. you shiver, squeezing all the seed out of his cock as you come down from your own high. you slump forward, his arm was the only thing keeping you from face planting on the ground. he rubs gentle circles into your bruising hips as he catches his breath. 

“are you alright, does it feel better?” he quizzes, feeling himself go soft after several minutes of keeping you stuffed. “talk to me, i’m worried–”

“i’m great,” you giggle, feeling cum slide down your legs when he slips out of you, “better than ever. as long as that’s not a one time thing.” 

he leans over your back again, turning your head for a sweet kiss to your lips. “no, no. definitely not. sneak into my room tonight and i’ll make sure of it.”

[winchestersisterimaginessss]

My Sister’s Keeper

Dean went to hell and Sam left his little sister (16/17 yo) to fend for herself. Dean gets back and he is pissed with Sam and they have to find her. Fluff

Warnings- swearing, angst, fluff lol

A/N- I kind of changed the way Dean was brought back. Instead of going right to Bobby he found Sam first. Let me know if you think I should do a part 2?

“She’s a fucking kid Sam,” Dean let out an angry yell. He couldn’t believe that Sam had ditched their baby sister when she needed him the most. His heart ached as he thought about the times he reassured her that when he was in Hell she would always have Sam and that he would take care of her. He knew that she still wasn’t convinced and it made leaving so much harder, but he had no choice. After all, Dean had raised her and Sam had left them both multiple times. His heart panged when he thought about where she could be all alone. The look of horror on his face when he came to realization, “A young girl at that!” Dean grimaced. God forbid someone touched a hair on her head, they would be dead and Dean would make sure of it. He couldn’t imagine his baby sister alone and scared fending for herself. Sure she was tough, but she was just a kid and he knew her better than she knew herself. He knows that when she claims she’s okay after a hunt, its clear she isn’t as her body betrays her words and she trembles until he or Sam rub her back and let her know that she’s safe. It doesn’t take an idiot to notice the flash of panic on her face after a door slams or a loud noise is heard. Or when they have to calm her down during a panic attack or comfort her in the middle of the night during a nightmare. Or the way she clings to Sam or Dean’s shirt every night when she falls asleep. She was tougher than hell, but at the end of the day she’s just a kid who was forced to live this life. Dean looked at Sam and saw the look of regret that filled his face. “You better fucking find her Sam or I swear to God,” Dean trailed off grabbing his phone to call Bobby, putting it on speaker phone. The phone rang a few times until Bobby picked up, “Hello?” “Hey Bobby it’s Dean, have you heard from Y/N,” Dean asked as he shot a look at Sam. Bobby replied, “I talked to her last week and she said her and Sam were getting close finding you a way out,” Sam’s heart panged as he realized that she told Bobby he was with her so no one would worry about her. She never wanted to be a bother to anyone and he felt even worse knowing she was trying everything in her power to get Dean back while he ran off with a demon. Something that none the less probably cost her her soul. He should have been with her and he will never forgive himself for leaving. But he thought he was doing the right thing in the moment. Now looking back at it he wasn’t sure how he thought that because right now he was terrified at the thought of her being alone or worse, hurt. Sam’s emotions were interrupted by Bobby speaking again, “And I can see that it worked. Welcome back boy.” “Thanks Bobby, do you have an address of where she might be?” Dean replied. Bobby hummed “No, but I have a town.” Dean let out a sign of relief. He grabbed the keys and turned to Sam, “You better hope she’s safe Sam. Let’s go.”

They got into the car and Dean took off. They were about 3 hours out from the town that Bobby sent over. Luckily it was a pretty small town and there was one motel that they could pretty much pinpoint where she could be staying. The car ride was agonizingly quiet and Sam was forced to be stuck in his thoughts on how awful of a brother he’s been. He was too worried about killing Lilith while she was too busy trying to find a way to bring Dean back. He was fucking selfish and he should have been focused on his only living sibling left that was trying to bring back their other non living sibling. He decided to break the silence, “Dean I’m so fucking sorry, I screwed up man and I screwed up bad. I’ll never fucking forgive myself.” Dean scoffed, “Yeah you shouldn’t be able to forgive yourself Sam. She’s just a kid, I don’t understand how you could EVER leave her like that. She needed you the most and you left her. We don’t even know if she’s alive,” Dean gripped the steering wheel and pressed the gas harder thinking the worst possible scenario. He continued, “She found a way to bring me back and we know how that story ends Sam.” Sam filled to the brim with guilt, “I’ll fix everything, I promise Dean, I won’t let anything else happen to her.” The car went back to silence as both brothers continued to hope their baby sister was alright.

It was around 1am when they finally arrived at the motel. The engine roared as Dean turned the car off. They got out and hurried to the front desk. “Hi. how can I help you?” The man behind the desk asked. They both pulled out their FBI badges and stated who they were looking for. The guy pointed them to a room and they rushed to what they were hoping was Y/N’s room. She’s always been a light sleeper so when Dean started to pick the lock to her door, she immediately heard it. Her heart dropped and she grabbed her knife to give her a fighting chance against her intruders. She quickly glided across the motel room and put her back against the wall. It was pitch black, but she could make out two figures. One was much taller than the other, but they were both pretty big which made her gulp. There was no one way she could take on the both of them and she knew that. They picked the lock with ease and started to make their way into her room. They took a few steps in and that’s when Y/N charged at them. The taller one of the two immediately turned around and just before she could make contact with him, he grabbed her. She immediately dropped her knife as he pinned her wrist back and slammed her against the wall. She let out a yelp and braced her head for impact, but instead of feeling the hard wall against her head it was the palm of a hand. She was confused, but she still whimpered terrified. “Please,” she cried, “please don’t hurt me.” As she pleaded, the light to the motel room flicked on and she was finally able to make out the person in front of her. “Hey hey it’s alright,” it was Sam. “Sammy,” she whimpered. Still clearly dazed, confused, and frightened. Sam loosened his grip on his sister and wrapped his large arms around her small frame, “Yeah, hey shhhh bug I got you. I’m so sorry. I’m so so sorry.” She cried, flinging her arms around him and holding him tight like he could disappear at any moment. To be fair, he could disappear at any moment and he did. They stayed like that for a few moments before rage took over her. She pulled away, crying and started hitting him. “How could you Sam,” she cried. Slapping his chest and hitting him over and over again, “How could you fucking leave me. I-I needed you Sam. I needed you and you left me,” she sobbed. She was weak with exhaustion, but Sam let her hit him because he deserved every single blow even if it barely hurt him.

Dean stood back watching his little sister. He was taken aback by how fragile she looked. She definitely lost weight as she was much skinnier. He noticed dark heavy bags under her eyes like she had been crying every single day for months straight. He couldn’t take it anymore, his sister was clearly suffering and he wasn’t around to help her. In fact, no one was around to help her. He couldn’t watch her crumble any longer so he came up behind her and embraced her. He pinned her frailing arms down with his and held her in a tight hug from behind. She fought against him, crying when Dean calmly spoke, “Hey hey hey Y/N/N I’m going to need you to relax for me alright?” She stood frozen, “De?” “Yeah, I got you sweetheart, I got you. I’m so sorry,” He released his hold as she turned around and launched herself onto him. Dean wrapped his arms around her and she gripped onto Deans shirt for dear life. She whimpered, “De I was so scared.” Dean felt his heart drop even further, “I know kid, I know. Shhhh it’s okay, I’m here. I got you.” Dean tightened his grip on her and rested his clenched jaw on her head shooting Sam a look. Sam watched them both, feeling sick to his stomach. How could he have done this to his baby sister? This is no life for a kid. He knew that too and that’s why the pit in his stomach only grew bigger. A sob interrupted Sam’s thoughts as Y/N’s emotions began to escalate. He watched as she collapsed, falling into their older brothers arms. Dean quickly sunk to the floor with her as her breathing hitched. He could feel her heart hammering against her rib cage and knew he needed to get her out of her panicked state before she passed out. “Hey hey hey hey Y/N/N breathe for me sweetheart, breathe.” She felt her chest start to tighten which frightened her even more. Her breathing was erratic at this point and she dug her finger tips into deans arms. “Hey kid, you’re having a panic attack okay? It’s alright. I’ve got you. You’re safe okay?” She nodded still trembling, still gasping. He repositioned her so she was sitting in between his legs with her back pressed against him to feel the rise and fall of his chest. “I need you to breathe with me. Can you do that sweetheart?” Dean felt her nod and continued “Yeah? Okay. We’re going to breathe out for 10. Come on bug 10…9…8…7…” She matched Dean’s breath which ended up hitching on 7. Dean reached down to rub her arms, “Keep going kid. You got it. 3…2…1…” He walked her through breathing in and out a few more times until he felt satisfied enough to where he knew she wouldn’t pass out. He sighed in relief, wrapping his arms around her and resting his chin on her head, “That’s it sweetheart, I got you.” He could still feel her heart pounding though so he pulled her onto his lap like he did when she was a child and ran his fingers through her hair. “It’s alright, I’m here now and I’m not leaving. You’re safe with me kiddo. I’ve got you.”

She sat on the floor with Dean for what felt like hours while he comforted her. Eventually Sam made his way over unable to see his baby sister hurt any longer. He sat down and brushed her hair away from her face, “I’m so sorry bug. You have every right to be upset with me. I let you down and I caused you so much pain. I just thought I was doing the right thing for all of us. If I could go back in time, I would change it. I’m so incredibly sorry for everything, but I’m here now and I’m not leaving you ever.” Sam let a few tears escape his eyes. Y/N reached to grab his hand, “I forgive you Sammy. I’m sorry for hitting you.” Sam chuckled. His baby sister was too nice for her own sake. “I deserved it,” he said. She shot her head back up and looked between her two brothers. “How did you get out?” She asked, not knowing if she really wanted to know the answer. She was scared that a crossroads demon finally took Sam up on his offer for his soul. Her heart rate picked up again while she waited for her brothers to give her an answer. “I don’t know how I got out. I thought it was either you or Sam who figured it out, but Sam didn’t,” he trailed off looking at her with worried eyes. She blinked, “No it wasn’t me. I tried Dean, I tried so hard to save you. I- I tried. I’m so sorry. I-I couldn’t figure it out.” Dean’s face softened, “Hey sweetheart it’s okay. Thank you, but I wish it wasn’t put on you in the first place. I would have never wanted this for you. I’m so sorry.” He could tell she was filled with so much guilt when she shouldn’t be. It crushed him and he rubbed her arm, “I’m here now.” Y/N had so many questions, but all she knew was that she was back with her brothers and that’s all that mattered to her. She was exhausted and eventually let the darkness flow over her. “Get some rest kid, we’ll be here when you wake up,” she heard Dean say. She could finally sleep peacefully knowing she had both of her brother back.

[no-droids]

Another Rough Day

gif credit @chrishemsworht

Part Twenty of the Rough Day Series

Rating: Explicit

Word Count: 13.7K

Warnings: Angst, violence, canon-typical blood and gore, language, hurt/comfort

A/N: i wanna thank yall for sticking around during my hermit era, in the time ive been gone i am now officially a junior at a university majoring in aerospace and it’s a fuckin nightmare and i hate everything and god help us all literally kill me and I will be posting INCREDIBLY slowly because of that (I’m talkin weeks or months in between updates yall, im sorry I can’t dedicate more time to this but I am going to finish this fic within the next handful of chapters idk maybe 5 or 6 so you shouldn’t have to wait too too long).  As a heads up there will be hard angst as we enter the final arc, there will be hurt and it’ll get dark but everything is gonna turn out alright so thanks for sticking with me and continuing to stick with me. im sorry if you dont like it or your expectations were subverted or if this isn’t what you’d hoped it would be after following and waiting around for so long but this was planned a long time ago and it took me a good year or two to recognize that I started writing this fic for me and now I’m going to end it writing for me and I hope yall can respect that

ALSO I asked my best BEST FRIEND in the entire world @cptnbvcks to collaborate with me for this after we both took a very long break from creating and she drew some GORGEOUS artwork for this chapter so it will be posted at the end, everyone please go follow her and say hello

ps brittany girl you’re a fuckin menace i had to use my own two ears and listen to ethan literally say the words “the mandalorian cums, hard” what the fuck was that im actually suing

anyways chapter below the cut lets get serious yall

---

You take two of them down before they even realize they’re being attacked.

Your aim is as swift and steady as if Din were behind your shoulder right now, calmly pointing out which stationary tree to hit next in rapid succession.  You’re positioned perfectly at the bottom of the ramp to take full advantage of the ambush, the only thing running through your mind is strategy and the constant calculating of angles and ricochets.  The other three troopers are trapped inside the open Crest and you’re right next to a large boulder that you can step behind for cover, but it proves unnecessary as the rumors were apparently true.

They’re… awful.

Not a single blaster is even fired in your direction—you think you see maybe one panicked red shot bounce around in the hull, but that’s it.  The troopers fumble for their guns and trip over each other at the unexpected attack—a few scream like children through the modulators, but you’re temporarily deaf to anything besides the screech of your weapon hitting its target and the crumpling of armored bodies.

Later on, if someone were to ask you to describe exactly what happened—who died first, who ran for cover, who cried out for help—you don’t think you’d be able to.  You don’t even really feel like a person right now.  The entire thing is cold, robotic survival instinct, pure ruthlessness rising in your soul for the first time in your life.  It feels sick.  Wrong in your bones.  Born from preemptive defense in fear of your life, but that doesn’t mean you stop.  Not until all of them stop moving.

You empty the entire fucking canister for a handful of stormtroopers, firing plasma and char marks across every square inch of the pristine hull even after the last one drops.  Your heart is beating too fast, your finger keeps pulling the trigger multiple times even after the blaster clicks uselessly, completely empty and beeping a warning that it must’ve begun emitting ages ago.  Being out of ammo scares you—you suddenly feel vulnerable, even though the very far away logical part of your mind reminds you that they have to all be dead at this point and no physical threat was ever able to graze you.

Regardless, you quickly spin behind the boulder and grab another canister from your belt, giving it a spare check for leaks while the empty one slides and drops to the rocky ground.  It’s the first time you’ve ever had to reload this weapon instead of just pointing and shooting, but the mechanics are relatively simple and your brain makes up for your lack of coherent thoughts with lightning fast perception.  What's difficult is that your hands are starting to shake now that you’re not aiming, you’re not breathing correctly because you’re not really breathing at all.  You can’t tell the difference between the adrenaline-fueled dissociative silence that muffles everything around you or if it really is just that quiet now.  No more clatter of armor, no modulated voices or terrified screams.  No blasters, no footsteps along the ramp, no birds singing.

You quickly pause to lift your elbow and check the enormous eyes blinking up at you, tiny claws still holding tight to the fabric of your tunic and completely unharmed, and then you force yourself to move.  The blaster is held out in front of you while you walk forward and your finger rests on the trigger, begging to be pulled again.  It’s suspenseful and terrifying in a different way than before—now it’s less about psyching yourself up for confrontation and more about the fact that any sudden movement could mean your very swift end.

Silence.  Silence.  You’re numb and raw at the same time, walking up the ramp as your eyes fly everywhere, not even registering the blood or gore, just searching for movement.  You don’t know if you feel like a predator or prey, you’re that much more brutal and inhuman because of how fucking terrified you are.  You count four stormtroopers in the hull laying crumpled and still on the metal floor, but the one in the far corner only has blood on his shoulder.  You quickly swing the blaster around to remedy that, but then—

“P-Please don’t kill me!”

His words remind you of something.  Reality, maybe.  A world outside yourself and the kid’s survival, the living beings behind the bloody armor your enemies wear.

It’s a miracle your finger stays hovering over the trigger, and you watch him throw the blaster at your feet with a clang and scramble to show you his empty hands.  “Please don’t kill me, please don’t kill me—I’m not loyal to the Empire, I don’t want to be here, please, I don’t want to die, I don’t want to die—”

Behind the mask, your expression furrows.  Stormtroopers are loyal to the bitter end, what is he saying?  They embrace their expendiality, it’s the only thing that makes them any sort of a real threat.  Kuiil told you horror stories about them during your childhood, the cloning facilities and the propaganda they’re force fed since infancy.  It’s nearly impossible to find one who hasn’t been raised from birth to serve the Empire, no matter how crumbled and trace its remaining authority may be.

No, this is a trap, it has to be.  Your expression twists with dread after hearing him speak, readjusting your aim with the blaster and preparing yourself for the years of nightmares that’ll follow—but then he cries out, “Wait!” and then removes his helmet with trembling hands.

You pause, staring down at him in shock.

It’s him, you recognize him immediately.  It’s the same face from a hologram puck you bore into your memory, spent multiple days staring at so you’d be able to spot him under any disguise or circumstances.  Oshua Ryler.  Your quarry, the fifth puck, the one Din was out Maker knows where searching for before this entire mess happened.  A stormtrooper?  His puck said nothing about the Empire, this doesn’t make any sense.  What is he doing here?  Stormtroopers don’t have pucks, they don’t have bounties or relatives or loved ones searching for them.  They’re brainwashed, replaceable, faceless soldiers in suits of armor and they don’t even have names.

“Please don’t kill me,” he begs again, staring at you with wide eyes even as he cowers.  “I have a family, I-I just want to go home, please—”

“Shut up.”  You can’t think straight with him crying like that and you’re wasting so much time just standing here trying to process when your brain had to literally shut itself down to even do the things you’ve already done.  You have to kill him and escape, you have to—you can’t trust this complication, not with the tiny claws currently digging into your back and reminding you of your purpose, but it was so much easier when he had on a helmet.  You hate looking at his face.  It’s going to haunt your dreams now, just like the man you stabbed on Corellia.

“Please don’t kill me—please don’t kill me,” he screws his eyes up and breathes over and over instead, and your stomach wrenches with disgust.  His posture and expression are so fucking pitiful, you can barely keep your eyes on him through the overwhelming nausea and aversion that climbs up your throat.  He’s with the Empire, and they’re looking for the baby.  You know what needs to be done.  Pull the trigger, just one small movement from you and it’ll be all over.  It would be the easiest thing in the world, it would be so easy.

But then instead, you ask, “Why are you a stormtrooper?”

“I’m n-not—I hate the Empire—”

“The Empire is ashes.”  You don’t know if you’re yelling or whispering with how much blood is roaring through your ears.  “They hold no power anymore.  Why are you with them?”

“Because the one thing they have left is money!”  The quarry shrills the words at you, ghostly pale to the point of turning green.  “Th-They buy troopers now—they opened up a whole new market for the smugglers, there’s a base nearby that’s used for training and…”  He stares wide eyed at you and gulps.  “C-Conditioning.”

Your brain is already going a trillion lightyears an hour and it doesn’t have the capacity to empathize or understand anything beyond the child’s survival and the relevant details right now.  “Were they expecting the baby?”

“W-What?”  He squeaks up at you.

“Was the bounty put out on you a trap set by the Empire?”  You ask him, lifting your free arm just enough to flash him the tiny child clinging to your side.  “He said they’re coming after the baby, so tell me if this was planned from the beginning.”

“Who is ‘he’?”  The stormtrooper asks, furrowing his eyebrows and looking around.  “What are you talki—”

“Tell me if the bounty on you was a trap to take this baby!”  You roar, your blaster shaking as you aim it down at him.  Your mind is acutely focused on the tiny claws hanging onto your tunic, the continued safety of the kid and the life or death situation facing him that you were given absolutely no information about.  “Now—”

“If it was I didn’t know!”  He quickly cries out, pleading with you and clamping his eyes shut in terror under the barrel sight.  “I don’t know anything about a b-baby, or a bounty!  They just put blasters in our hands and told us to search for a ship and to bring back anyone we find alive, I swear!”

You’re silent for a moment, biting your lip under the mask and caught halfway between discerning and stalling.  You could still kill him.  You should still kill him, time is ticking down and more troopers could be heading this way any second.

Shit.  “Who put the bounty out on you?”  You ask sharply.  It might not be a completely fair question, but he can’t exactly blame you for not feeling completely fair right now.

“I—I don’t know,” he gasps, clutching his bleeding shoulder.  “Could’ve been anyone—my mother, Cyra, o-or my dad, Obediah, or Thia, or Benja, or S—”

“Thia,” you interrupt his rambling, catching the slurred word and repeating it back to him.

“Yes!”  Oshua jerks his head up, tears and hope immediately filling his eyes at the sound of her name, “Yes, Thiadura Celi Ryler, that’s my sister!”

Maker, if he’s lying, then he’s fucking brilliant at it.  You look towards the cockpit of the ship, biting your lip under the mask.  Get to Nevarro, tell Karga and he’ll… something.  Din was cut off before he finished.  Help?  Know what to do?  You’re lost, but you have a clear directive and the precious seconds are sliding by.  The controls are right up there, two steps to the ladder and less than a minute until you’re rising into the atmosphere.

But then you think back to the terror in Din’s voice.  The blistering panic that made him speak faster and with more urgency than you’ve ever heard from him.  Get to Nevarro.  Tell Karga.  Get to Nevarro.  Tell Karga.

You look back at the quarry.  “How many of you are there?”

“At the base?  Around three hundred,” he immediately spills.  “Half of us are in the hole right now getting brainwashed, they do it in shifts, but they can be mobilized in a few hours.  There were a lot of bodies outside when we were ordered to split off, maybe a third of our squadron, but the rest were still shooting at whatever was—”

“So around a hundred left,”  You finish breathlessly, almost wanting him to speak faster and cut to the chase so you can calculate quicker.  “How many were dispatched on the search?”

“Uh, there were eight groups of five sent in each major direction,” he informs you, still trembling on the ground.  “Told us not to come back until we covered the entire sector.”

Of which, four you’ve already taken care of.  In other circumstances, you’d be nauseated at the thought, but right now, it’s just another number to subtract, just more panicked math in Din’s frightening absence.  That leaves at least sixty troopers left wherever the base is, minimum, and likely a couple more hours before they’ve combed the sector.  If this wasn’t a preconceived trap purposefully set for the kid, then that means reinforcements haven’t arrived yet but likely will soon.  And if this is a base meant for training and conditioning, then that also means there’s a chance not all of them will be loyal yet.

You make the decision immediately.

“Okay,” you announce, clicking the blaster’s safety switch and holstering it, sounding lightyears more certain than you feel.  “Then you’re going to help me carry out a rescue mission, and I’ll take you back to your sister.”

“You…”  He looks uncertain, blinking at your blaster and slowly lowering his hands.  “You want to rescue the men?”

Ideally?  Sure.  Realistically?  You don’t say anything in response.  Instead, you kick his regulation firearm at your feet further away from the quarry just in case your judgment is flawed, and then turn around and grab one of the bodies behind you.

Your adrenaline is still blaring so fast that you only just barely note the severity of what you’ve just done and what you’re continuing to do.  The corpses aren’t real to you right now, they’re inanimate things that you need out of your ship before you can close the doors to it.  They are, however, heavy as fuck, but the only other adult here has a wound in his arm from the gun on your hip.  Regardless, you have experience with lifting dead weight without a big, strong, capable man to do it for you.

“Help me out here, kid,” you mutter over your shoulder, and in response, you feel his claws dig in and climb up just a little bit until he can peek out in front of you.  Thankfully, the burden is suddenly lifted and you can quickly slide the dead troopers down the ramp with ease.  It takes hardly any time at all—you just yank and haul and release and all four of them tumble the rest of the way all by themselves.

When you stand back up, Oshua hasn’t moved and he’s looking at you with a pale, queasy expression.  Glancing down, you see that your white robe is now stained with streaks and patches of rusty blood.  Instead of swallowing back bile at the sight and bolting to the shower to scrub off every last remaining trace, you breeze past it, noting nothing more than a change of color.  Dirtying your white, pristine clothing with the consequences of protecting this baby—you’d rather have blood-soaked fabric with an unharmed kid clinging to you than any other combination of those things.

“Can you make it up to the cockpit?”  You ask the quarry, kicking his rifle off the ship before closing the ramp and then gesturing up the ladder.  Your voice is calm and steady but your hands are beginning to shake again.  “I need as much information as possible about the base.”  You know that’s where Din is, judging from the wall of blaster screeches that drowned him out through the comm.  Logically, you know you could be headed right into a trap, and every instinct inside you wants to find safety, but… you just cannot imagine flying the ship away from this planet without Din onboard.  It isn’t fucking happening, you’ve made your choice.

Without waiting for a response, you climb the ladder and plop down in the pilot’s seat of the Crest.  While Oshua finds some way to clamber up the steps behind you in bulky stormtrooper armor with one good arm, you hold the kid closer on your lap and begin flight checking.  Din will be fucking furious, but the scolding you’ll be sure to get is the least of your worries right now.  Following his instructions and going back to Nevarro is just making shit infinitely more dangerous for him, turning what could be a potential rescue mission into an undeniable suicide mission.  Even if Karga somehow decides to send a few guild members along to infiltrate the base, it’ll be a war you want to avoid.

Besides.  What did you always tell him about running away from him, even when he instructs you to?

It’s just… not really your thing.

---

They’re everywhere.

They crawl like flies out of the base, and for every single body that falls, three more spill from the open doors.  Rapid fire plasma beams launch from the end of Din’s blaster, melting white armor with every twitch of his gloved finger.  Their aim is terrible, as is to be expected, but the sheer number of them more than makes up for it, as is by design.

Din’s heart pounds with exertion, his breath comes in ragged huffs through the modulator as his helmet identifies and isolates which body is closest to him, which body he needs to bring down next.  His blaster is so hot it nearly burns his hand, even through the thick gloves he wears.  When he runs out of ammo, he holsters the pistol and swings his rifle from around his shoulder, spinning to catch a handful of troopers behind him in the obliterating blast.

He’s not thinking much.  He can’t think, even though your safety and that of his son is currently dangling by a thread.  If he focuses on that, he’ll be dead before he can even picture your faces.  He just reacts, he maims and kills without a single thought in his mind.  Blood splatters, screams and sirens blare as he becomes surrounded by more and more troopers.  Din can hear the sound of plasma colliding and ricocheting off his armor; every single one of them is a potential injury he could currently have but might not even be able to feel right now.

His helmet starts beeping rapidly and he turns just enough to see, highlighted in bright red on the screen, two enormous artillery turrets slowly rising up out of the roof of the imperial base.  He feels a fierce flash of anger burn in his chest, it’s like a lightning strike to his veins.

Din needs to go.

And yet… if he was another man.  If he wasn’t a father, or a husband, if he had no family and no attachments like the creed declared he should, he would go.  With just a twitch of his fingers, he could be launching into the sky and retreating as far away from this battlefield as he could reasonably get.  He’s never been the type to run from a threat, but this isn’t just a threat.  Dozens of troopers are gaining on him, they’re trampling their own dead to get within range.  Plasma pings off his shoulder, another one hits his back as they flank from behind.  He can feel the heat through the sizzling beskar, he can see them surrounding him on all sides, and the propulsion trigger for his jetpack is right there under his wrist.

Din holds his ground and continues firing, he plants his feet firmly to the dirt with only one thought in his mind.

Run, sweet girl.  Run.

---

You type in commands to scan for Din’s signal, quickly locating it through the Crest’s computer onboard.  Not far from here, three minutes or less.  The ship rumbles to life beneath you, slowly lifting off the rocky ground and rotating in place as it hovers.  It’s not on autopilot but you feel like you are, you can barely feel your hands as they move the yoke forward and the Crest takes off in the direction of Din’s blinking frequency.

“Tell me about defenses,” you instruct Oshua, restlessly bouncing your leg while the baby coos.

“Two plasma turrets on top of the base,” the quarry quickly answers.  “There’s usually guards stationed around the perimeter, but everyone who’s capable will be outside right now.”

Your mouth twists downwards under the mask.  Blasters don’t scare you much from this high up, but Din’s armor doesn’t cover every inch of his body, he’s not completely invincible.  Doubt churns in your stomach, but you have to stay focused on one task at a time so you don’t get overwhelmed.  The turrets, then.  “Are they automatic?”

“Manual,” he corrects with a shake of his head.

“Radar?”

“Old.  Only engages above fifty meters.”

You eye your altitude and dip the Crest considerably, beginning to weave through the rocky canyons and dodging crumbling cliffs while you travel.  “What about ships?”

“None,” Oshua says, “except for a passenger shuttle used for transport.  TIEs are flown in the Vesta sector, this base is remote and used for basic training only.”

“Anything else?”  You ask, stomach twisting with the knowledge that barely four questions is all you’ve got.  You’re planning to drop into an imperial base to save the man you love and you can’t think of a single other question?  

The quarry shrugs, and your heart slams, does somersaults in your chest at the mere notion that you could fucking die here.  Today, in two minutes or less, you could die here.  The child in your lap looking over the ship’s front panel with a quiet determination in his eyes could die here.  Din could already be dead—that signal broadcasts his location to this computer regardless of whether he’s still breathing or not.  He could already be gone and you’d be flying the baby right into a trap without knowing any differently.

Whelp, you think while taking a deep breath, some strangely calm existential acceptance beginning to flood your soul.  If he isn’t dead, he will be soon if you don’t make it to him on time.

You immediately lift your wrist and speak into the communicator.  “Mando?”  You have no idea if he can hear you, but you need to try anyway.  Your voice is still firm, there’s a strength to it you don’t feel in your chest, but it certainly sounds convincing.  “I’m coming to get you.  Less than a minute to your location, do everything you can to get outside.  If you can’t, I’ll just… uh.  Try to figure something else out.”

That’s it.  That’s it, improvise until you don’t have to.  Even if you’re lacking confidence, you can at least scrounge up some conviction.  Your arms gain feeling again while you veer the Crest through the stony terrain, the familiar reverberations under your feet begin to fill your body with a powerful sense of purpose.  Your breaths begin to come steady, every falling rock you see through the transparisteel feels like it drops in slow motion, allowing you to evade them easily.  It would normally be stupidly dangerous to fly this low with so many unexpected obstacles and hazards narrowly missing the ship, but considering what you’re flying into, a few boulders seems comical.

“Where’s your helmet?”  Oshua asks out of nowhere, and for a second, you don’t think you heard him correctly.

But then it strikes you all at once what he’s attempting to imply, and the sheer lunacy of the thought is enough to make you laugh while you clutch the controls.  “I’m not a Mandalorian.”

“You wear the armor of one,” he points out… rather fairly, you have to admit.  “You cover your face like one.  You have a blaster that fires Philithiorium, a rare and expensive gas native to Mandalore’s stratosphere, and you’re a bounty hunter—”

“I’m not a Mandalorian.”  Your words are short and cutting, you have a daunting task to focus on and don’t feel like having small talk right now.  “I’m not a bounty hunter, either.”

But then again, Karga made you a member of the Guild, didn’t he?  He handed you Oshua’s puck and said this one is for you to find, and you are technically part of a Mandalorian clan.  All of this seems like it happened without your knowledge.  You may be marrying a Mandalorian, you may wear his armor and mother his child and shoot a blaster with his signet branded into it, but war isn’t in your blood.  This robe was a costume when you first made it, this armor was a relic that was restored as a hobby.  In a sense, it still feels that way.  The mask covering your face lended itself to a temporary surge of bravery earlier, but beyond that, the only thing that’s keeping you moving forward now is your family.  The man you love that may or may not be alive right now, the baby holding tight to your leg while the ship sways and weaves through the stony landscape.

Your eyes quickly flick down to the child in your lap, both of his three fingered hands clutching onto the stained fabric of your knee without moving a single inch.  He’d know, you tell yourself.  If his father is gone, he’d already know somehow.  Din is still alive, and he’s counting on you.

---

There’s too many for Din to handle.

They swarmed him, overpowered his endless artillery with massive numbers and there’s nothing he can do anymore.  The backs of his knees are kicked from behind and he slams down to the ground with a clatter, his sizzling hot blasters are ripped from him, and Din folds his hands calmly behind his back even as one of the stormtroopers barks out, “Binders,” to another one, who disappears quickly in response.  In the meantime, a few of them apparently decide to just attempt holding his arms in place, and their measly combined grip is almost enough to make him roll his eyes under the helmet.  These imperial soldiers are even more pitiful than they usually are, but his silent resolve to stall to ensure your escape is enough to keep him stationary and compliant for the time being.

Eventually, a few voices call out from beyond the crowd and there’s some movement from the back.  Dozens of troopers with their blasters all pointed at him begin to shuffle to make way, careful to keep their barrels aimed at him while a path slowly forms.  The crowd of white parts and a stormtrooper with a singular red pauldron on his right shoulder saunters confidently towards Din as he kneels on the ground.

An officer, he assumes.  Conveniently missing from the firefight, the scanner inside his helmet would’ve caught the change in color and Din would’ve made sure to kill him first.

“Well now, what do we have here?”  Comes his thin metallic voice through the tinny filter.  The officer studies him curiously for a few moments, before slowly looking down by his feet, reaching out one cheap, plastic covered foot to gently nudge the body of a dead trooper on the ground with a sigh.  “What a shame.”

Coward, he thinks, his lip curling with disgust under the helmet.

“This is an imperial training base,” he turns his attention back to Din to inform him when he doesn’t immediately respond, rather stupidly he might add.  “How were you able to find us?”

Silence.  The grip on hands held behind his back is even looser now.  He just tilts his chin up slightly in defiance, the scanner inside his helmet locating each weapon strapped to the man’s body and highlighting it red.  Small text boxes blink into existence under each one with a manufacturer and classification—a BlasTech E-11 rifle, a Merr-Sonn thermal detonator, a Kolvo vibroblade—and Din is severely unimpressed with the quality.  The detonator is the only weapon that even catches his eye, and that’s only because the chamber inside that houses the explosive baradium has a release mechanism that’s completely dead.  Useless, then.  Good to know.

After a long moment of quiet tension where Din refuses to speak and the officer continues to confidently scrutinize him, in some strange sort of silent battle of egos that only one seems to have a genuine interest in, another stormtrooper makes his way to the front, shoving past his fellow soldiers to address the superior in charge.

“Commander, we’ve sent out an alert for an intruder,” he tells him, slightly out of breath from running through the crowd in the lightweight armor.  Din wants to roll his eyes, but what he says next makes him snap to immediate attention.  “The fleet informed us that Moff Gideon is currently on route.”

Gideon.  The last time someone spoke that name, it was a quarry on Coruscant and you just barely managed to stop Din from suffocating the bastard for even saying it aloud before freezing him in carbonite.  It would’ve meant half the return on a hunt that lasted nearly a month but he saw red and his hand was crushing his windpipe before he realized what happened.  But he’s dead, Din thinks with a clenched jaw and fists tightening behind his back, he watched that TIE fighter explode and slam into the ground, crushing the man inside it.  The wreck was unsurvivable, he can’t be alive.

“For what?  This Mandalorian?”  The trooper in charge scoffs in response, and Din remains completely mute.

“Yes, sir,” the other one confirms.  “Orders were to capture him, alive.”

“Hm.”  The officer turns his attention back to him, less analyzing and more musing while he tilts his head.  “I see,” he eventually says, and he sounds like he’s grinning, before strolling slightly closer as Din stays completely still on his knees.  “He must want the beskar.  I’m sure it’s worth more than this entire battalion combined.”

All of a sudden, a gloved hand carelessly catches the rim of his helmet and tugs, and Din’s movement is explosive.  He launches off the ground, arms easily slipping from the pathetic grip they were being held in and his fist colliding with the side of the officer’s flimsy white helmet, the plastic making a deafening crack against his face.

Multiple hands immediately rush forward to grab him and yank him back down again while the commanding trooper stumbles backwards in shock, and Din amicably drops to his knees and folds his hands behind his back once more like nothing happened at all.

“Binders!”  A trooper behind him roars loudly once more, and a few men surrounding him begin trotting away this time.

The officer in red stands a few feet away from him now, grabbing his helmet and twisting it back to its proper position on his head where it was skewed.  There’s a shattered hole near his jaw where the material splintered and busted like the cheap piece of banthashit it is, and while he might normally feel pleased with himself for being able to see his skin peeking through, it just fills him with more righteous fury.  It’s such a punchable jaw.

After a few awkward moments of silence, the other one clears his throat and continues.  “He… has inquired about the location and status of a child that should be accompanying him.”

Din inhales deeply through his nose and grinds his teeth.  He wants to snap their necks one by one for even just mentioning his son, but there are just too many, more than even his whistling birds can neutralize.  Still, he gave you as much of a head start as physically possible.  You should be rising into the atmosphere right now, making the jump into hyperspace towards safety.  Karga will know what to do—he’ll protect his family, separate you and the boy so the threat is evenly dispersed instead of collected all in one place, and arm dozens of trained hunters to keep watch over you both individually.  It’s the best Din can do, and it’s the only thing keeping his knees planted on the ground and his body completely motionless while they continue speaking.

“We are combing the sector for a ship with as many men as we can afford to lose,” the trooper in red says, but his voice filter is shattered and now sounds like a puny little droid with a broken voice box, “but our numbers are unimpressive.  Assistance may be required.”

It’s too late, Din thinks, mouth twitching under the beskar with a satisfied smirk.  They’re wasting their time, looking for a ghost.  You’re both long gone by now.  They’ve got no idea you even exist—

“He also spoke of a girl.”

And then he feels his heart stop in his chest.  Every single cell in his body turns to fire, it’s a fucking miracle he doesn’t move a muscle in response.  His sweet girl, the one so far removed from the nightmare of the Empire that she made best friends with the orphans of it.  How the fuck did he know?  He shouldn’t even be breathing, let alone gathering information about you, how did he know?

But then Din thinks back, remembering your makeshift bed on the floor, your panicked eyes and heaving chest as the quarry taunted him with a sick little smile.  Who’s this, Mando?  She’s just darling, isn’t she?  Does Gideon know your crew has a lovely new addition?

“A girl?”

The trooper nods.  “Moff Gideon insisted that if the Mandalorian did not have a child with him, then a girl would likely be protecting him instead.”

He’s going to kill them, Din decides.  Every single one of these imperial pigs, every single soldier standing right now is a dead fucking man.  The blood pumping through his body suddenly turns to acid, deadly black hate poisoning his soul.  His heartbeat morphs into a war drum, the armor strapped to his limbs is the barrel of a gun.  He’s going to fucking kill them and leave an imperial base full of bodies to greet his old nemesis upon his return, and he’s going to enjoy every single second of it.

Except, then—

“Mando?”  The sweetest voice in existence suddenly crackles through the earpiece under his helmet.  “I’m coming to get you.  Less than a minute to your location, do everything you can to get outside.  If you can’t, I’ll just… uh.  Figure something else out.”

And, as Din kneels there in surrender, surrounded by a crowd of enemies he thought he destroyed long ago, all the anger—all the fury and defiance and murder surging through his veins—suddenly morphs to fear.

The emotion is so foreign and old to him, it feels like a face he barely recognizes and a name he can’t remember.  He’s panicked before.  He’s been in situations where a threat has made him blind with rage, he knows what it’s like to look death straight in the eyes and say that he’s busy and to come back another time.  This is different.  This is ice cold that freezes over beskar.

He can’t speak out loud to warn you—he can’t move his hands to press the button on the back of his helmet and allow him to talk without detection.  There’s plasma turrets on the roof of the base, he can see them right now.  The helmet’s scanners say they’re manned and engaged, and though he is outside and this is how you retrieved him before whenever he needed a quick escape, he has fifty fucking imperial blasters trained on him and you know absolutely nothing about this threat.  You’re flying right into a war zone and if either you or his son dies, he won’t ever be able to forgive himself.

Behind the helmet, his eyes fly to each and every trooper, wondering which blaster will be the one to do it.  Which weapon is going to be the one he can’t block in time when you descend, the one that’ll kill him right in front of you.  Which turret will be the one to obliterate the Crest with you and his son inside of it.

“Maker, where are those fucking binders—” he hears someone behind him snarl, but the white noise of pure terror roaring through his ears drowns them out.  His chest starts heaving against his will, sheer panic begins to blur his vision.  For the first time in his life, his armor feels too heavy, his lungs feel like one of these boulders are sitting on them instead of beskar.

All too soon, his helmet starts making a familiar sound that signals quietly in his ear, alerting him of an incoming ship, and the only thing he can physically do is count down the seconds to prepare himself for what is to come.

Ten, nine, eight, seven, six, five, four, three, two…

Like lightning, Din breaks the grip of multiple troopers and surges up, tackling the officer in red to the ground.  There’s a clatter as they both slam into the rocky floor, but in the ensuing scuffle, he easily snatches the thermal detonator from his side holster and holds it up for everyone to see, before pressing the red button on the front and hearing it begin to beep rapidly.

---

You’re right on time.

The Crest rises up through the rocky cliffs surrounding the base and you spot the turrets you were warned about.  Weapons controls are already engaged and you’re too low to be detected by radar—you fire once, twice, and blast both of them to smithereens from behind before they can even rotate around to target you.

Alarms start wailing but the guns are destroyed.  It’s not comforting, though; blasters won’t touch you up here, but that doesn’t mean they can’t fire at Din on the ground.  Your eyes dart across the sea of white, looking for a flash of silver anywhere, and then you spot him instantly in the chaos.

For some reason, the troopers in his vicinity all seem to be bolting away from him.  Their rifles are down, clutched in their hands while they nearly fall over each other to run away as fast as possible, and your heart soars when you spot his jetpack firing up.  Din launches into the sky while another trooper is revealed underneath him, seeming to juggle something in his hands and then throw it into the crowd of retreating soldiers, but the sight of the man you love rising into the air while a flurry of blaster shots from the far edges of the imperial structure follow him gives you the confidence to immediately turn the guns down towards the horde of troopers.

“Which ones are in charge?”  You ask Oshua breathlessly, who leans forward and points out the transparisteel.

“Red pauldrons—” he barely has time to say it before you aim and fire at one of the troopers wearing red that was closest to Din, the plasma beam launching from the Crest so powerful and devastating that it outright obliterates the surface he’s laying on.  Pieces of shattered armor fly and a smoking crater of rubble is all that’s left behind, but your mind is whirling and you’re already onto someone else wearing red at the edges of the complex, and then two more near the doors, and then another—

To their credit, you think the sixty or so soldiers in training seem to figure out that you’re not aiming into the enormous collection of them.  If you were, the damage would be catastrophic and spraying everywhere, but you’re precise and meticulous with your shots, and the only ones who are loyal enough to the cause to hold still and raise their blasters at the incoming threat tend to be the ones you need to mow down anyways.  The rest of them scatter in all directions, scrambling over each other to escape and then disappearing into the distant boulders surrounding the base—but you notice that not a single one of them runs back inside the safety of its open doors.

The hull dips with the weight of Din dropping in, and relief floods your soul even as you continue raining hell down on the superiors in charge.  Any flash of color you see is a target, your eyes lose focus of everything, your vision blurs and turns monochrome as you just search for red.

“Lift up!”  You hear Din’s voice roar from the hull.  You can hear his rifle unloading through the open door.  “Now!  We have to go now!”

You press the button to shut the hull door with Din inside and punch it, rising so fast that the shove of gravity makes it difficult to keep your head up.  Through the sudden surge of downward force, you just barely manage to raise your incredibly heavy arm to push the button that pressurizes the Crest and ignites the launch boosters, preparing the vessel for space travel.  Outside the transparisteel, the gray sky begins darkening as the atmosphere eventually disappears.  The ship’s engines roar, burning so much fuel at once that you’re actually accelerating through the climb, you’re boosting through the gradual ease of gravity as the planet’s curvature and glow becomes softer and softer below you.

As soon as the blackness of space begins to fill the windows, the slight subsiding of force allows you to plug in the coordinates for Nevarro with less difficulty, but you’re still moving, still rising, still escaping.  You can’t find it within yourself to slow down, but then something catches your attention.

Claws suddenly dig sharp into your thigh, sharp enough to sting and cause you to wince, and you look down to see that the kid has gone incredibly tense.  Deadly tense.  Your heart is still pounding even though you’re away from danger, you’ve got Din in the hull, everyone is safe, and yet—

It flickers into existence all at once.  One second it’s just space, just the endless depths of nothingness spread out for light years in front of you, and within the blink of an eye it’s suddenly there.

A star destroyer.

Your body freezes in horrified awe, having never seen a ship so fucking big in your entire life.  It looks like a massive satellite, the size of an enormous asteroid instantly appearing in your vision and dwarfing the vastness of space around it.  All the stars you used to dream about are suddenly blotted out within a fraction of a second, terror so immense seizes your soul that you stop thinking.  You stop calculating, you stop being yourself for a split second that lasts an entire lifetime.

Before you can move a single muscle, the computer beeps quickly and lurches the Crest into hyperspace.

---

The stars streak across the transparisteel like so many times before.  Utter silence nearly deafens you with how abrupt it is after so much noise, but the peace it used to bring does nothing to quell your fear.  Everything is the same as it always was, same bursts of light as you hurdle faster than it towards Nevarro, same quiet, same rumbling hum of the ship.  But now, everything has changed.

You hear the quarry next to you suddenly inhale and exhale loudly, and it shocks you a little bit, reminds you that there’s a person next to you and another is on your lap.  Other people exist outside of the vision of death that just flickered out of existence just as quickly as it appeared.  They’re breathing, Oshua is shakily unbuckling his seatbelt, life is continuing on in the quiet cockpit but you can’t seem to move like he is.  You can’t seem to breathe like he is.  It’s only when the baby slowly maneuvers himself around on your thigh and blinks up at you, placing a tiny hand on your stomach that you finally feel air enter your lungs.

After a moment, you reach down and click open your seatbelt with trembling fingers, scooping the kid up in your arms and slowly attempting to stand.  Everything feels wobbly and dreamlike, you have to brace yourself on the headrest to prevent yourself from falling back into the chair again.

“That was…” Ryler mutters, his voice sounding foggy and distant, “uh.  A close one.”

You look over at him, recognizing that he’s speaking but not quite able to understand the words right now.  Red catches in your vision, and you blink down at the way he’s clutching his left shoulder, the smear of blood darkening the white armor he’s wearing.  You blink a few more times at the sight of it, and though it feels like you normally would be sickened at the wound, somehow shocked out of your state of shock, it does nothing to you.  When you look back up at his face, his expression seems strangely grateful, even when it’s screwed up in what you know must be excruciating pain.    You did that, a quiet voice whispers in your mind, even though the rest of it seems incredibly blank.

Instead of responding, you stumble a few steps over to the ladder, spinning around and hesitating for a moment.  You’re severely lacking in coherent thought, but one thing seems to break through.  You’re not sure if you have enough coordination to do this safely right now.  However, when there’s movement in your peripheral and you look to see Oshua gently offering his right arm to you, seeming to understand you’d like to use both hands for this, you snap back to your senses just the slightest bit and hug the baby tighter to your chest.  Carefully, you begin making the slow climb down the ladder with the kid, still trembling with the aftershocks of adrenaline.  Your limbs feel extra heavy, but eventually the floor meets your feet.

Din is standing there when you slowly turn around, armor gleaming and still as a statue, but he has his back to you.  His helmet is tilted down at the ground, and when you follow his gaze, you’re met with the sight of the bloodstains of dragged bodies that leave dark red streaks all the way up the ramp.

You feel something this time.  It’s… cold.  A burning, searing cold that creeps into your skin.  Like your heart decides to pump nitrogen through your chest instead of warm blood.  You did that.

There’s a sudden urge inside of you to speak, to address him and inform him of your presence, tell him everything is okay, everything worked out, but you can’t find it in yourself to say a single word.  You can’t find a single word to say.  The kid twists as best he can in your clutch, his ears drag against your chest to greet his father, but for some reason, there’s still a strange sense of fear in your bones.  It’s enough to wake you up slightly, it’s enough to tell you it’s not over yet.  There’s a terror in your heart that hasn’t left since he first called over the comm and begged you to run, a crippling dread that you thought climaxed after seeing that star destroyer appear, but it’s somehow only increased after laying eyes on him like this.

You watch as his helmet turns, slowly meeting the pauldron on his shoulder, and for some reason, you feel yourself harden.  Your feet brace against the metal floor like this is another threat you have to face, you let its unyielding metallic strength transfer up through the souls of your boots to your heart in your chest.

But the second you hear cheap white armor clatter as the quarry steps down the ladder behind you, Din bursts into movement.  He suddenly spins and storms up to you in one single step while catching your holstered blaster on your hip.  It’s out and aimed in the blink of an eye, and it’s a miracle you remember how to speak before he remembers how to kill.

“Mando—” you warn, just in time for the quarry to land on the floor of the hull and turn around to reveal his face.

Din holds there for a second, his helmet locked on Oshua’s features.  His gloved fingers twitch wildly on the trigger of your gun held over your shoulder, like he has to remind himself multiple times not to.  You hear Oshua’s armor clack while he likely raises one good arm in surrender, but then Din’s helmet moves a fraction of a millimeter to your face and holds there.  He just stares down at you, and the air feels heavy, your body feels heavy, the feather light child in your arms feels heavy.

Slowly, he lowers his arm, lets it fall while he continues looking at you from behind the visor.  You look back at him, unblinking, unfeeling, and there’s a few seconds that last an utter eternity where nobody moves.  Nobody speaks, nothing happens, but then a soft coo comes from your arms before you can finally break eye contact, knowing there are still some things that need to be done.

You eventually turn around and lift your chin to address Oshua.

“You have to go into carbonite,” you inform him quietly.  Your voice sounds strange, like it’s coming from outside of yourself.  “We’re taking you to Nevarro, and then you’ll be transported to your home planet. When they unfreeze you, your sister will be there to collect you.”

He looks uncertain, one hand still raised while the other hangs uselessly at his side, and you don’t blame him.

But you also don’t feel like saying anymore, not unless he decides he doesn’t want to go in willingly.  Normally you might’ve tried to empathize, offer him further reassurance beyond just a couple short sentences, but you don’t.  Speaking feels difficult, thinking feels difficult.  You’re still in survival mode, not active but reactive.  There’s also no reason for you to lie to him about this, and you can see him glance at Din standing silently behind you, who hasn’t moved a muscle.

He eventually nods and you walk him over to the chamber without another word, watch him turn to face you as he backs into the opening while you reach up towards the control panel.

But then there’s a moment.  One where you hesitate slightly, one where your vision flashes back to the sight of those bloodstains on the floor, and that burning cold fills you again, so cold it feels completely numb.

“I’m… sorry,” you whisper quietly to him, though your voice sounds so empty.  There’s so much emotion that should be there but isn’t, so much regret and pain that should break through but can’t.  “I’m sorry I… killed your friends.”

Later, you’ll think about how you felt absolutely nothing saying it.  Your heart doesn’t constrict with remorse at the mere words leaving your mouth, guilt doesn’t flood into your soul, pain doesn’t wrack through your bones.  You could’ve been saying anything at all and nobody would be able to tell the difference.

He blinks at you, flicking his eyes between yours for a second or two, but then you press the proper button and watch the gas quickly freeze him where he stands.  He’ll be conscious the entire time, but Karga will send him to the correct location and you have no doubt that this elemental purgatory is leagues better than where he just escaped from.  It’s a benefit being the last quarry to be retrieved—he’ll only have to spend a few days trapped in here before being reunited with his family.

When that’s done and Oshua is a complete statue in front of you, bulky white armor now colored a dull metallic gray and frozen in time, you will yourself to finally turn around to face the enormous mountain of a presence behind you.  The baby gently reaches out for him, but Din doesn’t move from where he’s stood.  Your blaster is still clutched tightly in his hand, and he isn’t looking at you.

Slowly, you walk over and stop directly in front of him in the middle of the hull, blinking at him while the helmet subtly moves to lock onto your face.  The kid begins wiggling in your arms, making soft impatient noises while you both stand in complete silence across from each other.

After a few moments, you hear him flick your blaster’s safety on by his side and then toss it carelessly to the ground.  It skids along the floor, light enough to be mostly quiet.  Gloves reach out as he carefully takes the kid from you and settles him in the crook of one arm, and then he looks you up and down, still not saying anything.

Your eyes follow his movement, watching his arm slowly reaching out to you, and you think he’s going to cup your jaw, or brush your hair back.  Give you some sort of physical reassurance since he hasn’t spoken a single word of it.

Instead, Din suddenly grabs the armor clinging to your chest and starts ripping it off you with one hand.  It clangs to the floor so loudly in the silence of hyperspace, the kid’s ears twitch and flutter with each shattering bang.  You hold still while he does it, you barely respond except the unavoidable movement your body experiences as the pauldron is yanked from your shoulder and thrown against the ground.  The ammo belt is tugged over your head and hurled away, the thigh braces are snatched from your legs and they clang to the floor, and the pearly, opalescent fabric revealed underneath is stained in dead man’s blood, rusty and in such great quantities that it shows up as brown instead of red.

“Are you hurt?”

He sounds… dead.  So monotonic that you can’t possibly gauge his emotional state.  He doesn’t move.   His fists don’t clench, he says every single word like it means the same exact thing as the last.  If nothing at all was a person who could speak, they’d use his tone of voice.

“No,” you eventually whisper.

The helmet nods once, and then he spins around and walks away without anything else.  Without saying anything, without touching you, or double checking you for injuries in case you were lying.  You stand utterly still while Din climbs the ladder with the kid cradled in one arm, and you don’t even flinch when the door to the cockpit slides shut behind him.  You have no idea how long you stand there in the splitting silence afterwards, numb and unmoving.

You feel… nothing.  Absolutely nothing.

The hard defenses you strapped to yourself today to reconcile the things you had to do are still high and strong, guarding your soul even if he stripped away your physical armor.  Self preservation is still animating your body, and your facial expression barely changes.  Your first thought, as soon as you remember that you can have one, is that there are things that still need to be done.  Tasks to complete.

Alone, you shower the lingering traces of blood off your body, the normally clear and refreshing water running a sickly, toxic brown.  Alone, your stomach rolls and suddenly decides to empty itself of the very little that was in it as the scalding drops rain down over you—mostly liquid and bile that easily rinses down the drain.  The water is too warm, it beats down on you like blazing hot sand pelting your skin in the desert.  You feel like you did those first few months with Din, where the silence was suffocating, where you’d only interact with the baby if he was on a hunt or if you could tell he didn’t know how to calm him when he was fussy.  If you were in hyperspace, you usually spent time by yourself in the hull while he lived in the cockpit, and if he decided he needed to be in the hull for whatever reason, then you’d trade places with him.  It was… isolating.  Lonely by yourself.  The quiet used to haunt you before it became your cherished friend, but now it’s a betrayer, a ghost that whispers memories and nightmares in your ears.

When you finally finish rinsing the blood from your skin and get dressed, you see the sheets that used to make up your bed now have fried holes in them from your charred plasma marks, the inside of the hull is covered in them and the trails of dried blood where you dragged the bodies down the ramp.  Your armor is still strewn about the hull, the kid’s hovering shield lays dead in the corner.  Everything you meticulously cleaned and organized and collected and created, now the scene of a bloodbath.  One committed by your hand, your blaster still laying uselessly on the floor forever linked to this atrocity.

You spare a glance towards the ladder, but you don’t want to come face to face with Din yet.  You already knew he’d be furious, but… you had hoped that he’d at least…

What?  At least what?  Comfort you?  Coddle you after you deliberately ignored his instructions?  What exactly, in the past year or so of learning Din’s inner workings and intricacies, would ever give you the impression that he’d come give you a big hug after you purposefully defied him?  You flew the kid directly into an imperial base after being told to protect him, you ignored every order he gave to you in the moments he thought would be his last, and though you did it to save his life, you have a feeling that Din has never valued his life even a fraction of what you do.

The misery stabs at your soul, but your mind is finally beginning to process things logically.  He’s alive, the kid is alive, the quarry is secure, and you’re all onboard the safety of this ship hurtling through hyperspace where nobody, not even the Empire, can touch you.  You weighed the consequences before making your decision, you did what you had to do.  If he wants to be mad, then he can fucking well be mad and you’ll find some way to comfort yourself.  At least he’s here being mad, at least he’s alive and safe and breathing and mad, and your rare act of disobedience is to thank for that.

Somewhere in the back of your mind, you realize it’s probably easier than it should be to reconcile the punishment.  Right now, you welcome the exclusion, the negativity and sorrow beating itself into your soul.  Four innocent people died today on this ship, gunned down under your blaster while they panicked and ran for cover.  You keep hearing their screams.

So you start to clean up the hull, needing another task to focus your thoughts on.  You work to erase every inch of the evidence of your deeds, make it disappear like the pool of blood Din once cleaned up while you were sleeping and never acknowledged again.  You only allow the bloodstains to fuck with your head for a single moment, and then you swallow back the nausea until you’re a blank slate again and sink to your knees with a rag in your hand.  After that, your vision stops focusing and it just becomes red contrasting against gunmetal gray, and you work tirelessly to get rid of all remaining traces of it.

Then you start on the blaster marks, you need them gone.  After a few informed attempts at mixing cleaning chemicals, you find one concoction that allows you to wipe them away like they’re nothing more than dirt that got tracked in.  The Crest’s oxygen recycling system works overdrive to constantly purify the air so you don’t get high or pass out, but your nose still stings.  It’s fine, it’s sterile, it burns a bit but it smells sharp and metallic and keeps you hyper focused on the task at hand.

After that’s done, you pick up the charred blankets and ball them up to throw into the trash vent.  You don’t feel anything as you do it.  You don’t think about how long it took you to collect these over months and months of being stuck on this ship, how comfortable they were when everything else was industrial and rigid, how many nights you spent with Din curled up in their softness while he breathed easy and warm.  Sheets are just luxuries, they can afford to be lost.

Next, you gather your armor and wipe it down with the rag, put it away along with your blaster.  The stained robe goes in the trash, along with the sheets and the blood soaked cloth you used to clean everything.  They’re all ruined, you’ll never be able to make them right again.

The hull is sparkling clean when you decide to take another shower.  Nothing on you is dirty except your hands, but you feel filthy.  Wrong, cold, numb, cold, stained, cold.

After scrubbing your skin raw under the water and changing clothes again, since you don’t really know what to do with yourself anymore, you slowly climb the ladder to the cockpit, keeping perfectly silent.  When you reach the upper platform and come face to face with the closed door, you can just barely hear Din’s whispered voice speaking quietly to the baby beyond it.

You raise your hand for a moment, hovering your knuckles over the metal, but then it eventually falls.  Instead, you look over and spot the corner, the same corner Din bunched himself into when he snapped at you for even suggesting going on a hunt with him, blew up at you for the mere notion of something happening like what happened today.  You back yourself into it in defeat and slowly sink down on the floor, resting your head against the metal and hugging your knees to your chest since you don’t have a tiny baby to take their place.

You can’t sleep.  You don’t even try, it’s pointless.  The concept feels foreign the longer you sit here by yourself.  You don’t hear Din or the baby anymore, but you feel… so fucking awful that it’s fitting that you don’t knock or go looking.  You don’t want to hold that sweet child with hands that were covered in blood just a few hours ago.  You killed more people than you can count on your fingers today, and of the ones who had done nothing wrong…  They screamed like younglings, ducked for cover and were able to fire off one single useless shot in the mayhem before you closed their eyes forever and left their bodies to rot in armor that wasn’t ever their choice to wear.

You didn’t know they were kidnapped and smuggled and forced into that situation.  You couldn’t have known, but that isn’t the point.  In this case, knowing doesn’t make one bit of difference.

You also can’t face Din yet, not like this.  You don’t want him to see you cowering, shattered with guilt over the decisions you made under pressure.  How will you ever get him to forgive you for not listening to him when you can’t even forgive yourself for the result of your choices?  Din is a hardened man who grew up in blasterfire and bloodshed, just because you love him doesn’t mean he’s going to magically become someone he isn’t.  You’re here letting guilt sink sharp claws into your chest over four dead men when he had a good fifty or more corpses scattered on the battlefield around him.  You decided to wear that armor, you decided to fly into an imperial base with the kid on your lap, and this is now your penance.  You’ll accept it with your back straight and your chin held high.

Figuratively, of course.  Physically, you’re smaller than you’ve ever been.  Crumpled up into a ball, taking up as little space as possible, curling up as tight as you can like an animal protecting all your vulnerable parts during a brutal attack.

So, since he isn’t here to comfort you himself, you just try to think about what he would tell you.  A long time ago, what would he tell you?

Din would tell you… that you killed someone.  Multiple people, this time.  He’d also tell you that it doesn’t matter what he tells you, what you could have reasonably foreseen or what you should have done.  The end result won’t change.  You own this now.  You’ll carry their deaths with you.

You take a few deep breaths, self-soothing with the undeniable truth that would be murmured matter of factly from his quiet voice.  He wouldn’t argue with you.  He wouldn’t deny the decisions you made or the consequences of them.  It happened, and at the end of the day, you either learn how to handle that, or you don’t.

And, for the four you did shoot, you were responsible for freeing ten times that amount.  You’re responsible for reuniting Oshua Ryler with his family, even if your place in yours is momentarily shunned.  You’d rather be out here alone than in there with the kid, wondering where his dad is or if he’s even still alive.  You rescued Din and now he gets to be here to shut this door on you, hold his son, and whisper calm reassurances to him.  If you listen really hard and imagine, you can pretend they’re for you, too.

That’s it.  Focus on them both, alive and well together.  Focus on the bodies wearing white armor that were moving, the ones that were bolting away from the imperial training base as fast as they could, free from the torture of imprisonment and conditioning.

Finally, you close your eyes and slip into unconsciousness.  It’s not a testament to your exhaustion, but rather just how long you’ve been left to sit here by yourself.  Hours, maybe.  Time is strange in hyperspace.

You dream of a faceless man ringing bells.

---

When you wake up, a small baby has been placed in your arms, and you’re being dragged into a strong, secure beskar hold on the floor.

“Din,” you suddenly lift your head as soon as you’re conscious and nearly bonk it into solid metal, apologies rising in your throat before you even remember where you are.  You did what needed to be done to keep your family alive and together and you’d do it a thousand times again if necessary, but that doesn’t mean you won’t apologize anyways.  After the deeds you’ve committed today, regret feels as natural on your lips as speaking your own name.  “I’m sorry, I’m so sorry, I know you’re mad at me but I—”

“Shh,” he whispers, running his gloves through your hair.  He’s still wearing his helmet, he hasn’t taken anything off yet.  “Don’t say anything.  Just… stay here, stay right here with me.”

“I tried to save you,” you croak, tears instantly flooding your eyes.  You did save him.  You saved him and the baby and yourself but you’re so physically and emotionally exhausted that all you can recall is your intent.  “I tried.  Wasn’t gonna leave you there by yourself.  I tried to be brave, like you—y-you wouldn’t have left without me.”

His arms tighten around you, cradling you in such a strong embrace that you burrow into him, you find a place for your head on the hard metal strapped to him and bury yourself there, wishing that you had shovels of dirt being piled on you to justify the death you still feel staining your soul.  Your heart is starting to pound now that you’re remembering, your body is starting to shake with tremors of shock now that you’re aware of your own skin again.

“I was so sc-scared, Din, I didn’t—didn’t know what was happening,” you lament through watery eyes, gasping it out in hopes that it’ll relieve the slightest bit of the gut wrenching guilt just mercilessly crushing you.  It caught you before you could protect yourself against it, that armor you built around yourself isn’t on when you first wake up.  “I-I didn’t want to kill them, but they were already on the ship and y-you said—you said they were coming after the kid s-so I had to, I had to—”

“Stop,” Din whispers, voice so quiet that you can barely hear him.

“I-I cleaned up the blood,” you turn your face against the cold beskar to let all the positives you listed for yourself before scrape across your throat.  They don’t sound comforting anymore, they just sound like excuses.  “It’s gone, it’s like it never happened, everything is okay now, I got the quarry, I protected the baby, I saved a bunch of people, you’re both safe—”

“Stop,” he chokes out.  The modulator cuts off before you can hear his next breath, but you feel it shudder under your body.  “St-Stop it, please.”

Your eyes clench shut so tightly you feel like the streaking stars outside are behind them, tears drop down against his pauldron and you press your face tighter to it like it’s a wound, like the pressure will somehow ease the bleeding.

“Listen to me,” he says very quietly, and you instantly brace yourself.  The walls you just let down shoot right back up, your body physically tightens in preparation for another pain, another trauma, another scar you’ll carry, and you stop shaking.  You stop breathing, even when his hand comes up to ease your face away from his armor.

“You,” he whispers, holding your chin so you’re staring right at him, and your eyes flick fearfully in between his behind the visor, “are a sweet girl.”  Din’s leather thumb brushes along your skin, dragging over the tears below your puffy eyes.  “Not,” his voice catches, “a Mandalorian.”

Your heart goes cold.  Again, everything turns numb.  It doesn’t matter that you already said this yourself out loud earlier today.  It doesn’t matter that you acknowledged this fact, verbally insisted it more than once to hammer home the truth and felt some sense of comfort in it.  For some reason, hearing the words from his mouth is a fucking knife to your chest.

“I taught you how to fight, how to shoot a blaster,” he murmurs, thumb catching every single tear that continues to fall as he speaks.  “I taught you everything I know, everything that’s been taught to me.  I taught you how to defend yourself, how to protect yourself when you’re in danger.  I gave you your blaster, I gave you my armor, I gave you everything I could give you to keep you safe.  And when I thought you were ready, I let you loose on Sanctuary II.  Do you know why I did that?”  The helmet tips forward the slightest bit at the question, probing deep into the most shattered part of your heart.  “After all those months of fighting, and shooting, and training, do you know why I told you to run?”

You blink silently at him, a shaky breath quaking through you, and your expression wants to crumple under the reprimand.  You’re so fragile right now, taking hit after hit after hit to the softest parts inside you, and you want to just give up.  Let the guilt and remorse take you, let it wash you away.  But then, instead…

There’s a flicker of something inside you.  Something strong, endlessly strong, and it makes you want to revolt against what he’s saying.  It replaces the hurt and fear and desperation for comfort with a strange sense of insurgence, like it did earlier when you were hiding behind a boulder, cowering and trembling and not wanting to die.  You’re filled with a quiet urge to defend yourself in the face of this, stand up for yourself and refuse to be beaten down any longer.

“Because you needed to know how to escape danger,” he answers himself when you don’t.  “You needed to know how to disappear, how to outsmart any pursuer and find safety, even the trained ones.  Especially the trained ones.  Anything else was meant to be your last resort.  Not your choice.  Not something you chose.”

“I couldn’t leave you,” you admit to him quietly, voice shaky and tears still coming even as you try to speak up for yourself.  The regret you carry has nothing to do with this, and you decide right now that you won’t feel bad for saving him.  Your hurt comes from the meaningless things, the ones without any need whatsoever, not the necessary ones, and you tried.  You repeated his words to yourself over and over again, told yourself to run, told yourself to get to Nevarro, and it wasn’t going to happen.  “I couldn’t do it.  It wasn’t a choice.”

“It was,” he tells you.  He says it softly, whispers it like it’s the gentlest thing in the world, but the power and inherent distance of the armor strapped to his body finds its way into the words.  “And it was the wrong one.”

“What was I supposed to do?”  You ask, just a hint of that rebellion swimming to the surface now, rising out of the waves of self doubt, the one that feels like a spine growing in your back, an energy coursing through your veins that makes your heart start to beat faster.  Din’s hand slowly drops from your cheek but you don’t care.  “Was I supposed to run away and just let you die?”

“Yes.”  It’s quick and blunt and completely emotionless.  Delivered like a punch to the vulnerable parts of yourself he taught you how to protect, and the utter silence following this single word is comparable to the physical pain you learned to defend against.  It jabs hard against everything good and sweet and tender inside of you, and you’re left speechless even as he continues impassively.  “That’s exactly what you were supposed to do.”

It takes a second, but then that unfamiliar feeling suddenly surges up, breaches with the power of an entire ocean.  Your voices may be nothing more than whispers in the dark, you may be clinging to each other, holding each other with the softest, gentlest love in your hearts, but the strength of your conviction on this would rip metal apart.

“No.”  The word holds the might of your entire being, and it stands alone and defiant in the face of everything you fear, everything that threatens you, him, and this child.  Never.  You’ll die before that happens.  “I love you, and there’s nothing in this galaxy that would ever make me do that.  Not fear, not danger, not the Empire, nothing.  Not even you.”

Din stares at you.  His visor reflects your hardened expression back to you, the force in your soul and the purpose in your eyes, and you don’t even realize the gravity of what you just said because like your love for him, gravity is a constant.  It’s a fundamental truth cemented into the rules that govern your actions and it stays true no matter where you are, no matter what terror you face, or how scared you become.  You have him, you have this little boy in your arms, and if that’s all you have, then you have everything.

After an eternity of this, of feeling his eyes pierce deep into you from behind the helmet while you refuse to wither under his stare, you watch him slowly turn and look down, landing on the sleepy child tucked between you both.  He holds there for a long time, before finally whispering, so quiet that the modulator barely picks it up, “It was the wrong choice.”

You stay quiet.  It happened.  What’s done is done, you can’t change the past.  He can scold and reprimand you about this as much as he wants, but you did the right thing and that decision is the only reason he’s even here to be able to do so.  This exhausted child was reunited with his father because of your choices, and this exhausted father was reunited with his child.  You won’t argue anymore, but it’s a certitude that lives deep in your heart now, builds a home there right alongside the both of them.  Din eventually looks up, his eyes find yours again behind the visor, and his hand rises once more to gently cup your jaw.

“I… thought I’d enjoy seeing you in my armor,” Din finally whispers.  It’s not what you expected, but his voice sounds… weak.  Broken.  “You wore mine once before, and it was…”  He brushes his thumb along your cheek, and then his head shakes slightly, pushing the thought away.  “It wasn’t real.  It didn’t fit.  It dwarfed you, it made you look out of place, it made everything soft and innocent about you stand out.  I liked it because it wasn’t real.”

“Was it… really that bad?”  You whisper back, partially to ease the tension just slightly but quickly breaking eye contact with him when you realize it doesn’t land correctly, it just sounds self conscious and sad.  You try to find that conviction again, that strength and assurance that propped you up so sturdily before, but…  Not a Mandalorian, he’d said.  Of course not.  Of course not.

“It wasn’t the armor.”  Din gently tugs up on your face so that you look at him again.  “It was you covered in blood.  It was you purposefully putting yourself in danger.  You killed multiple armed soldiers of the Empire, you dragged their bodies off the ship.  And then you flew into an imperial base, where you killed the officers, too.  You…”  He shakes his head slowly at you while speaking, and although you can’t see his face, you don’t need to in order to hear the horror in his voice.   “You… collected a quarry… in the middle of a massacre, sweet girl.”

Not a Mandalorian.

“You don’t chase down bounties,” he tells you.  “You don’t fly into war zones.  You don’t kill imperials, you don’t collect quarries, you don’t sacrifice yourself, or our son, to save me.  You said you tried to be brave… like me.”  His fingers tighten against your cheek, he dips his helmet to make sure you understand.  “I’ll never ask you to be brave.  I’ll ask you to survive.”

“I’m… sorry,” you finally whisper, and his arm drops from your cheek to join the other in wrapping around you and holding tight.  They hug you and squeeze, encasing you and the baby in a beskar shield and staying there for a long time.  Long enough for you to tuck your head back into its proper place under his helmet, long enough to start to feel okay with the silence again.  It brutalized you the last time you were surrounded by it, it made you feel alone and desolate and barren inside.  You greet it warily now, settling into it for an unknown amount of time until it’s forgiven once more.

After a while, Din quietly breaks it.

“How many?”  He murmurs to you.  You already know exactly what he’s asking, there's no more clarification necessary on his behalf.

You slowly close your eyes and think back to the smoldering craters, the blood soaked ramp, the fear in Oshua Ryler’s eyes as he begged you not to kill him.

“That didn’t deserve it?”  You ask, clenching your eyes tighter at the memory.  “Four.”

And maybe, maybe six or eight months ago, you would’ve begged for some guidance on how to reconcile that.  Hell, maybe a few hours ago, you could’ve used his arms around you exactly like this, his low voice repeating the same things he’s already told you before, over and over again, if only for some semblance of stability when everything feels turbulent and uncertain.  You’ll never be able to change it, though.  This belongs to you now.

This time, all Din says is, “I’m sorry, too.”

And that covers everything.

The silence envelops you both again, but… there’s something else.  Something that still sits deep in your worries, an image that isn’t a scar of what’s happened but a dread of what’s to come.  You need to tell him.  You don’t feel like saying it, you don’t want to speak it aloud for fear of bringing it into existence, but you need to tell him.

“Din?”  You breathe out, and he makes a soft noise in his throat while cuddling you on the floor.  “I saw…,” you whisper, every word sitting tight and reluctant in your throat.  “Right when we made the jump, I was looking through the window and I-I saw…”

“A star destroyer.”  He says it like… like it’s the worst thing in the world and also completely expected at the same time.  He says it like he already knew, yet can’t even imagine.  You lean every bit of your weight against him since you can’t hold him in return, squish him as best you can against the small corner and curl up even tighter in his arms for comfort.

He takes a deep breath, a shuddery sound you don’t think you’ve ever heard him make before.  It holds untold anxiety, unsaid conflict, uncertain action, an unknown path forward.

“I don’t know what to do,” Din eventually whispers to himself, to you, to the baby in your arms.  His voice is barely a breath through the modulator, his fingers digging into your skin with how many emotions he’s repressing.  “What do I do?”

He sounds so distressed that you automatically feel your soul find the floor—instantly, you become steady and calm and you locate all that rationality that kept you going today.  All your worries still twist deep down, all the guilt and the turmoil wrestles with your soft, easy nature until you can only find bits and pieces of it in the most vulnerable places inside you, but if he’s struggling this terribly, then the least you can do is offer some good, true, unwavering faith in times of uncertainty.  You’re in hyperspace, everything worked out, and it’s going to stay that way for right now.  If he doesn’t know how to talk about it yet, then you trust him enough to wait for him.

“It’ll be okay,” you tell him with a newfound confidence and purpose, carefully easing the baby into one arm so that the other can find its way to the other side of his helmet and pull him closer.  Din tucks his head and allows you to brush your lips against the metal, whisper the words soft and steady to him.  “We’ll figure it out together.”

---

@cptnbvcks thank you so much for the incredible art!

[enchantedflameandflower]

Perhaps you could write something? It’s my birthday and everyone seems to have forgotten. Maybe you could write Billy finding out it’s the readers birthday coming up and she’s crying because she doesn’t have family or friends and she’s alone, so be make sure she has a great day. (Fluff or smut, idk)

Yes! Happy belated birthday!!! I really wanted to get this ask out before everything else I’m working on because I know this feeling and it totally sucks. Billy would absolutely kiss it all better. Hope you all enjoy! (And happy birthday again anon! Thank you so much for the ask!)

Billy x you

You’d made it to nearly 7pm before the first tear finally slipped down your cheek, leaving a cold, wet trail in its wake.

Fuck it. You were proud of yourself for making it this long. You didn’t even bother to wipe it away. Another birthday, come and almost gone, without even a text. Yeah you had a few friends but it wasn’t worth it to truly open up to anyone anymore. Not really. But the older you got the harder it was to spend another birthday alone.

You were just about to go for the cheap liquor in the cabinet so you could take a sleeping pill and just drink until you passed out when there was a knock at your door. You almost thought of just ignoring it but what the fuck. You didn’t even care at this point if you were murdered by some psycho.

You opened the door and nearly dropped the bottle of vodka from the surprise. It was definitely a crazy person but not one that was going to kill you. At least not on purpose.

“Billy…” you managed to stammer out. “Uh…what…”

You’d been helping him out for awhile now when he needed information, you’d let him buy you a few drinks in payment now and again and you’d had the hottest fucking make out session at his office late one night a few weeks ago - until you’d been interrupted and decided it was probably for the best. He’d never come by your place before though and you knew it was ridiculous to be surprised he knew where you lived.

“Can a poor bloke come in, or ya gonna make me get on my knees and beg, doll?” he grinned.

Your stomach flip flopped wildly but you stepped aside, still at a loss for words, and - you couldn’t help it - quite intrigued.

“What are you…?”

“Came by to take ya out. Ya want to change? Nothin’ fancy or anythin’, just a dive I like down the street.”

“Take me out?” God you sounded so stupid but it’d been an awful day and you just couldn’t process anything and all of a sudden he looked so fucking good standing in your living room, and even though it was for the best you could not help thinking about all the dirty thoughts you’d had about him since that night. All of them included him naked and ravaging you, making you come until you couldn’t move anymore.

He grinned then, his dimple showing, and you wondered if he could tell what you were thinking. “Happy Birthday, doll. I meant to be here sooner but I got stuck with work.”

“How do you know when my birthday is?” you asked, shocked and looking up at him with wide eyes.

“Ya said somethin’ about no one callin’ you last year and I didn’t know if ya had anyone else this year either. Ya shouldn’t have to be alone if ya don’t want. And I’ve wanted to take ya out anyway.”

Tears stung at the back of your eyes again, this was almost impossible to believe, but you took a breath and pushed them down. “Yeah,” you smiled up at him. “I’ll change, it’ll just be a minute.”

~*~*~

You threw on your favorite pair of jeans, some boots and a nice tank top and Billy took your hand as he led you down the street. It was a dark, weathered looking bar but you didn’t mind. He sat you down in a booth in the back corner and went to the bar to order. “They have the best chips…er, fries,” he amended as he sat down across from you. “Loaded, you’ll love ‘em.”

One of the waiters brought the plate of loaded fries over along with two drinks. Billy ordered your favorite and you felt all your depression over this stupid day start to melt away.

“Thank you,” you murmured taking a drink and humming. It was good.

“Aw it’s nothin’,” he waved his hand in the air. But you could tell he knew how much this meant to you.

The fries were even better. You’d barely eaten all day and they were amazing. When you moaned out lout at how good they were, licking your fingers, he gave you a cheeky, knowing grin, clearly pleased with himself. You knew exactly what he was thinking and it felt really fucking good. God, you needed this.

The two of you shared the fries and just talked about everything. You made a joke about some ridiculous C-level supe and he laughed out loud, a deep rich, sound with a real smile. The whole thing nearly made you climb on his lap right there in front of everyone. You remembered exactly how he had felt when he’d kissed you weeks ago, his hands gripping your hips, pulling you against his swelling cock, his tongue plundering your mouth while his beard rubbed against your sensitive skin. Fuck you wanted him so badly.

The bar wasn’t too crowded but there was a group of girls at a table in the middle, laughing and having a good time. At one point some old rock song came on the jukebox and they got up, dancing around. You couldn’t help smiling, watching them. You hadn’t done anything like that in forever. Maybe sometimes it was worth it to get out, just let go and have fun.

Billy was watching you while you watched them and you caught his gaze as you turned back. There was a glint in his dark hazel eyes and it made your stomach flutter hotly. It was the first time you let yourself believe maybe there was more to this than him just being nice because he felt he had to.

At some point you got up to go to the restroom and when you returned, Billy had fresh drinks. He scooted against the wall as he watched you walk toward him. His gaze slid over you, head to toe then he was nodding for you to sit beside him instead of on the other side of the table.

You eagerly slide into the booth, pressing against his side as he lifted his arm for you to cuddle up close.

“You’re too good for me, love. But I’m starting to think I don’t give a fuck.”

You hummed happily and took a long drink of your alcohol. It was just enough to lighten your mood and make you just a bit tipsy, not too much.

His warm fingers brushed over your arm, his thumb rubbing your shoulder and you let you own hand fall to thigh under the table. It was firm and hot and you must have made some kind of stupid sound because the next you knew Billy gave a low chuckle.

“Thank you for doing this for me,” you murmured softly. You truly had not felt this good in a very long time “I never - Just thanks. I owe you one.”

You felt Billy lean over to kiss the top of your head. “Ya don’t owe me nothin’, love, though if you have somethin’ in mind, I certainly won’t argue…” His voice had dipped a little low and a shiver went through you at the implication.

One more big gulp and you were finished with your drink. “Walk me home?” you asked, turning to look up at him.

The look on his face said it all.

This time he had his arm around your waist, pulling you close to his body as he walked you back.

When you paused to unlock the front door of the building, he rubbed his hand back and forth over your hip and you fumbled the key twice before you got it in.

By the time you got to your own door you were almost shaking, you were aching for him so badly. And fuck, he seemed to know exactly what was happening because he spun you around before you could even try and get the key in again.

His eyes were dark and full of heated desire and you moaned out loud as he wound his strong arms around you and pulled you against him.

“Do ya want me to stay?” His big hand was sliding down and groping your ass, pulling you up and into him before he’d even finished the question.

“Fuck yes, Billy…” You were so hot and slick for him already you wouldn’t care if he took you right here in the hallway and you’d already decided this was absolutely the best birthday you’d ever had.

~*~*~

I didn’t want it to get crazy long but if y’all want a part two of birthday night with Billy I would looooove to write it, I have a bunch of ideas, let me know!

If you have also put in requests or are waiting for the next part to glimmer please know I will ABSOLUTELY write your request as soon as I’m able. I LOVE all the requests I’ve gotten so much! For my long Billy fic, I am very close to being done with the next part! ❤️ (OH MY GOSH I JUST REMEMBERED WHAT THAT CRAZY UNEXPLAINED NOTE IN MY BILLY NOTES WAS FOR WOOOOOO)

karl urban masterlist

[danikamariewrites]

Hi! I’m in LOVE with your blog! Would you be able to write something with nessian x reader where the reader has just an awful no good day/week and maybe something small sets her off and they comfort her and calm her down? I have had a very bad week and I had a whole breakdown over dropping a pen lol and I wish they had been there to comfort me. Anyways, I hope you have an amazing day!!!

Just A Bad Day

Nessian x reader

a/n: They would be so sweet and caring, especially Cass my fav gentle giant☺️ also I’m so sorry this feels very boring/typical. I might take a break for a few days bc this slump is killing me.

warnings: slight angst

Slamming the front door an angry sigh escapes your lips. You head staright to your personal bedroom wanting space from your mates. If you saw anyone right now you might yell at them.

Not even bothering to take your boots off you flop on the bed face down. Grabbing your pillow you stuff your face into the feathery soft fabric letting out a blood curdling scream.

You screamed and screamed and screamed until there was no air left in your lungs. Until your throat burned. Throwing the pillow as hard as you could against the headboard you flop back down on the bed.

Why are people so difficult to deal with? Today made you never want to speak with the governors or the general public ever again. You don't know if you just weren't communicating properly or what. But everyone was stupid and deserves to have a bad day. Not you.

After an hour of laying in bed you decided your throat was tortured enough and that cold water was necessary. Making your way down the stairs Nesta and Cassian's mixed scents hit you. It didn't calm you or anger you. You felt nothing but the exhaustion slowly creeping into your bones.

Another sigh leaves your lips as you open the cup cabinet. Frowning, you realize the glass you want is on a higher than usual self. Not feeling like asking Cassian to get it for you you strech up on your tip toes, grasping at the edge of the shelf. As your mind wandered to Cassian's usual teasing remarks about your height you get angrier.

The glass was just out of reach. Just a hair's breadth away from your finger tip. Your nail finally catches on the glass, bringing it forward. You finally grasp it with between your fingers and pull it down.

The glass slips from between your pointer finger and thumb. Your other hand reacts thanks to your fae reflexes, landing safely in your palm. You turn on your heel a little too quickly, sending the glass flying out of your grasp. It hits the wall shattering far too loudly.

Your hands go to cover your ears instantly. Tears pricking your eyes. You try to tune out the muffled sounds of Cassian and Nesta’s worried voices followed by their footsteps. Your face quickly contorted in anger. Angry at yourself. At the fucking glass. At your mates.

Your fingers tug at your hair in frustration. Your eyes are so clouded by tears you don’t even see Cassian in front of you. He gently takes your hands in his large ones. Slightly pressing his thumbs into your palms to lessen the death grip on the roots of your hair.

“Hey,” he coos, “what’s going on sweet pea?” You don’t look at him. Keeping your eyes down so you don’t break at the look of pity on their faces. Nesta hooks a finger under your chin, pulling your face up to look at them. The sad frowns on their lips broke you. The last thing you wanted to do today was upset or disappoint your mates.

Nesta took in a sharp breath at the projection of your feelings through the bond. “Oh, sweetheart. We’re not upset with you at all.” She wraps her arms tightly around your shoulders, swaying you gently. At Nesta’s loving embrace you break down. Sobs shaking your body.

Cassian smoothed your hair talking you through your tears. “I’m sorry.” You choked out repeatedly through your sobs. After hearing enough Cassian pulls you into his arms to carry you upstairs. Sitting you in his lap you continue to cry into his chest.

Nesta finally joins she has the glass of ice water you’ve been dying for. Just like Cassian taught her Nesta began massaging the pressure point on the back of your neck. She wanted to do everything to prevent your eventual headache.

When your tears finally stopped you took deep shaky breaths. They were coming too fast making the simple task difficult. Cassian laid you flat on the sheets to give you space. “Slow down, y/n. In for five and out for five.” He began to breathe with you until you finally calmed down. “Thank you,” you whisper.

You grabbed their hands so they can hold you up. Nesta hands you the water which you immediately gulp down. The cool liquid soothing your throat. Once it was empty Nesta took it from your hand. You lean into Cassian, resting your hand against his chest. Your fingers toy with the old fabric of his shirt to ground you.

“What’s wrong, baby?” Nesta coos. You shake your head mumbling, “Just a bad day.” “Do you want to talk about it?” You sniffle and shake your head. “No. That cry was good enough, honestly.” A short humorless laugh escapes your lips. Cassian kisses the top of your head letting out a small hum in answer. “Let’s get you some dinner and relax, yeah?” You nod again. Cassian lifts you again, carrying you downstairs.

[footballerimaginess]

That isn't me

“You said I love you to a girl that isn’t me, how am I supposed to react?”  Daily prompt from @hayleysprompts Trent Alexander Arnold Word Count: 618 The last few weeks had been awful for you, your relationship had been all over social media due to Trent being seen with someone else. The past few weeks had been a blur, you'd moved out of your house due to the press being outside your flats and wanting to know information about your relationship.

You had stayed in bed most of the time, whilst Trent had tried to contact you so much since the video was leaked. But you were in no mood to speak to him. Once again your phone buzzed beside you as your sister walked in. "You need to answer it, he will constantly be ringing. Just go back home, I know you don't want to but I think you should" she suggested as she placed a glass of water on the beside table. "Mm suppose so" you muttered as you pressed the call button. "Hi" you muttered into the phone. "We need to talk, you can't keep avoiding me" Trent grumbled down the phone. "Okay meet me then?" you suggested. "Alright, we need to meet in private. I really don't want to be seen by the paps again" he laughed. "Fine. Choose the place and just text me it" you bluntly replied as you ended the call. - You read the text as you saw where you were meeting, you had to make yourself look a little bit presentable. Something you hadn't done for the past few days was get out of your pyjamas. - You headed to the place you were meeting, walking in as you watched him staring straight at you. "Hi" you muttered as you sat down in front of him. "Thanks for meeting me" he smiled as he sipped on his drink. "Fine, would have liked it not to be so public though what if we get seen again" you muttered as you were starting to feel nervous with eyes all on you. "Sorry, we can leave if you want to. Just walk somewhere quieter with no peering eyes" you nodded as you stood up and walked out of the cafe that had appeared a lot more busier than when you first walked in there. "So how are you?" he asked quietly. "Great, whole of the internet knows my life and that you are a dirty cheat. So yeah, doing fantastic thanks" you rolled your eyes sarcastically. "Cut that out, don't be like that" Trent told you. "Are you being fucking serious right now?" you exclaimed, raising your voice as you felt the rage bubble inside of you. "Yes you are seriously overacting to the video, there is no need to be like this. You know how much I love you and you are being stupid. The video means nothing" Trent told you as he leaned forward to try and grab your hand. "You said I love you to a girl that isn’t me, how am I supposed to react?” you shouted at him as he shook his head. "Oh you are overacting, give over babe. You know my true feelings, this isn't worth arguing over. Just come home now" Trent tried to reassure you but you were having none of it. "I am not overacting at all Trent, you are the one that was plastered all over the internet kissing and saying I love you to someone else. But I should just suck it up, no thanks. Excuse me, I think this conversation is very much done." you stood up "Again are you serious? you are really walking away from this. Why are you doing this to me? walking away from me? whatever" he shouted out as you walked off. This was the start of a new chapter.. Let me know if anyone wants part 2?

[davenporttf]

Bear Trap

Jake was a total dick and he was fine admitting it. He had the body to compensate for his short temper and overall unlikeable personality. He liked to think of himself as a real tradie through and through. He didn't care what the other guys thought of him because he knew he could do the job of three men by himself. When it came to the ladies, he was fine cutting things off after they started getting feelings. "Who hurt you?" the last one said when he broke it off. He smiled and replied "That'd be you for having to listen to you."

The crew had been working on a new apartment complex for a few weeks. The days were long and the middle of summer brought some very hot afternoons. Jake was working on installing a new water pipeline to the complex and removing the debris from all the jackhammering. They had been going at it since 7am and with the sun now beaming over him, he was feeling dehydrated. He forgot to bring his own water and was starting to regret it. He signaled over to the other guys that he was going to take a quick 15, and started walking towards the next door apartments.

Typically the neighbors next to their projects hated seeing them because of all the noise. He would see the dirty looks from the balconies but he would just wave at them to piss them off. Today he was going to play nice though, and beg for some water with a smile and an arm flex.

He went up to the first door and rang the doorbell. A few moments later, a loveable bear named Greg answered the door. He filled the door with his sturdy frame, and smiled at Jake. "Can I help you?"

"Hey man, sorry to bother you but I forgot my water today. Could I trouble you for some?" Jake said with the most charming smile he could manage.

"Yeah, of course! Why don't you come in and cool off and I'll grab you some water. I have the AC on." Greg offered kindly.

Jake was not about to pass up some free AC despite his reservations. "Yeah sure. Thanks, man." He entered the studio apartment looking around at Greg's very tidy apartment. "Have a seat on the couch, I'll grab you something to drink" Greg said as he walked to his kitchen.

Jake continued to look around and noticed some of the pride flags posted around the living room. "Awe fuck, a fag. Just great." he thought to himself as he took a seat on the sofa. He didn't like how all the gay guys looked him up and down. He worked hard to look good for the ladies, and felt uncomfortable when men shot glances his way. He had the urge to leave but the AC was feeling great against his skin, so he shoved his disdain to the side.

Greg could sense the hatred from Jake, and his overall douchebag demeanor. He had seen him for a few days now arguing with his coworkers and catcalling the women walking by. He didn't like the ripped guys, and tended to go for bears like himself. He had been living alone for a few years and with the rent about to go up due to the complex being built nextdoor, he was struggling. He didn't have an extra room to split with a roommate, and he wasn't having much luck in the boyfriend department. In the kitchen, Greg came up with an idea to fix his problem. He pulled out a bottle of water from the back of the fridge that he bought from a specialty store he frequented.

Greg walked back into the room and handed Jake the bottle of water. "Here ya go! Feel free to enjoy the air for a bit. You guys really seem to be working hard out there." Jake didn't waste a moment, and started chugging the water. The water tickled going down his throat and the water tasted so refreshing. He continued to chug the water as a bubbly feeling developed in his abdomen. Gurgles began to become audible as his stomach started to expand outward. Jake could feel his waistline pushing out against his jeans becoming more uncomfortable by the second. The water was too refreshing to stop so with his other hand he unbuttoned his jeans and pulled them down to make room. Jake's pecs softened and inflated, losing definition. His arms became heavier with his biceps growing more doughy. His face rounded and lost it's definition with his chinstrap widening to a full beard.

With one hand on his belly rubbing it for comfort, Jake finished the bottle and looked around at his new form. He wanted to be disgusted with himself but his grip on his prior life was slipping away. He was liking the way he felt more powerful by his size and ran his hands all over. He looked around at the apartment feeling more at home.

"You look good handsome." Greg complimented as Jake looked up at him. Jake could feel himself growing attracted to Greg, especially his handsome features. Memories of them meeting out by the construction yard surfaced. He was always on the heavier side and the crew loved how strong he was moving around the debris. Greg had walked by one day and he couldn't help but catcall him. Luckily, Greg was flattered and found Jake extremely attractive sweating in the hot sun. Moving in together was the greatest thing to happen to him, and it helped that they could split the rent.

Jake started to paw at the bulge in his briefs, thinking of how sexy his boyfriend was. "What's say we cool off more in the shower?" Jake said devilishly. He got up and walked over to Greg adjusting to his newfound size. He took Greg by the hand and lead him into the bathroom for some much needed fun.

[lewsnumerounofan]

party foul (jeremiah fisher x reader)

summary: so what if you're in love with your best friend, jeremiah fisher? one drunk kiss won't change anything. right?

notes: not biblically accurate conrad, teen drinking, kissing, 3k words, reader previously dated co**ad, angst/miscomm., not proof read at all

+ part 2

+ i never keep the same tense i'm so sooryim gooo fuckjuhnbsorry oh my god and dw abt the header image!!!!!! it's okay!!!!!

kissing jere was easy.

it was the first thing you noticed. how easy it was to let his lips slant over yours, to tilt your head back at the greedy request of his hands, to forget about the party and conrad and the house.

it was just him and the feel of his mouth on yours.

you hadn't expected this, to say the least. in fact, you'd been bracing for an awkward and mostly miserable night. ever since conrad and you had split back in june, things had been awful. the breakup had been bad itself--getting ditched at prom without explanation was one thing--but watching conrad get back with nicole a week later was even worse.

so you were pleasantly surprised with yourself when you decided to go to the fisher's goodbye party, despite whatever tension there might be between you and conrad.

if you were being honest with yourself though, you mostly had jeremiah to thank. you two had been best friends since childhood, but ever since his brother had broken your heart, jere had been there for you. all the time, really. he'd drive down on weekends to check up on you. and when susannah had gotten worse, you'd driven up to make sure he was eating and sleeping too.

so of course he'd been able to convince you to come stay, waving off your concerns about conrad. i want you there, he'd said. i really want you there. and so you'd come. you arrived late, tired from the hours of highway driving. already the house was packed with hap hazardously parked cars and drunk teenagers. the music was loud even on the warm streets outside, and you couldn't help but feel excited as you pulled your bag out of your car and started towards the party.

taylor was the one who opened the door for you. she launched herself into a hug, giggling and shrieking as you two swung around.

"oh my god. you have no idea how happy i am to see you," she yelled, dragging you into the crowded house.

together you fumbled upstairs, eventually breaking into one of the larger rooms. various assortments of air mattresses and water beds covered the floor. jere had called you as soon as they'd gotten back from the boardwalk about julia's suprise moving. it wasn't often you heard him so... defeated.

"you can drop your stuff wherever," said taylor, "but the one in the corner is jeremy's."

she didn't even bother to hide her grin as you slapped her arm. nothing, not even your best kept secret, made it past taylor.

"shut up. you can't say anything to him or i swear i'll kill you," you promised, only half joking.

"oh please. he hasn't stopped talking about you the whole trip. it's disgusting."

you tried not to smile at that--jere talked about you? i mean, he'd called you just about every day for the last few months. more, on days when things were hard. but still, you felt almost nervous at the thought of seeing him now. of what it might be like between you.

your thoughts were cut off by a shout of your name. running into the room was belly. well, not running--rolling.

"oh my god bell what are you wearing?" you asked. it was too late though, because she was wrapping you up in a wobbly, crushing hug.

"roller skates? duh? they're an old pair of susannah's," she said.

you'd missed belly. she looked fucking adorable in her little vintage number, and you hugged her again just because. over her shoulder you could see steven grinning, and conrad too. you waved to the later while steven strode over, ruffling your hair before taking your bag from you.

"long time no see, city-girl," he said.

"yeah yeah yeah. just be nice to my bag, okay? it's got some very delicate presents," you said. steven raised his eyebrows but did as you said, placing your bag onto the bed taylor had indicated earlier. jere's bed. taylor and steven met eyes and winked--uh oh. the last thing you needed was them trying to set you up with your best friend. your best friend who you're in love with, something inside you said. you tried your best to strangle it.

"hey."

this time it was conrad, who was sporting a pair of atrocious sunflower sunglasses on the top of his head.

"hey. i like the glasses," you said, doing your best to smile. it was weird to talk like this to him. you were so angry and embarrassed and sad because of him for so long, and now there was just... nothing. and it felt okay.

"uh, yeah. nicole--nicole got them for me."

he looked sheepish, blushing in a way that used to have you fawning. now you just did your best to nod, saying, "well, she's certainly got a good eye for fashion."

you were saved from the conversation by steven's cough. he stood by the doorway, impatiently waving you towards the party.

"cmon guys, can we hurry this up?"

"yeah, gimmie one sec," you promised. returning to your bag you pulled out the liquor you'd secured on your way there, the bottles heavy in your hands.

"see," you said, turning back to your friends, "presents."

-

downstairs was even louder than you thought it would be. belly had gone all out for the party--strobe lights blared in every room, a kegger was set up outside, and a dj (was that cam cameron??) was spinning in the living room. you had to admit it: you were having a good time. a really good time. except for, that is, one thing. or person, really. jere was nowhere to be found. he'd even missed out on the group shots you, steven, taylor, belly and conrad had downed first beside the pool and then by the kitchen. jeremiah never missed group shots.

a little more than drunk now, you pushed off from your spot on the counter to find your bestfriend.

"city-girl, where you going?" asked steven.

"i'm gonna go find jere. i haven't seen him since i got in."

"i'll come with you," a voice spoke up.

it was conrad, who looked between you and the floor nervously. you didn't miss the questioning looks that pass between taylor and belly. you shrug at them--a little nervous, but not enough to turn him down in front of all your friends.

"uh, yeah sure."

so you and conrad made your way back through the party, scanning couches and corners for jeremiah. by the time you hit the stairs you were both sweaty and annoyed. you had come all this way to see him, and all of a sudden he'd disappeared.

"he's not picking up any of my calls," said conrad, pulling his phone away from his ear.

"me neither," you admitted, letting yourself swing around the banister to sit at the bottom of the staircase. cautiously, conrad gestured to empty landing beside you.

"mind if i join?"

you nod, scooching over to make room. conrad looked bigger than last time you'd seen him. he looked stronger too. for a while after susannah died he'd looked like a corpse--pale and skinny and only half there. even you could admit you were glad to see him doing so much better.

"hey, look i didn't really tag along to search for jere," conrad said, glancing back at you. shocker.

"i uh," he cleared his throat, "i mostly just wanted to apologize. for how things ended. i know i messed up really bad and i wanted to say i'm sorry."

in the hazy blue and purple's of the dance floor below, conrad's steel-blue eyes were genuine. for the first time that night they held yours steadily.

"i was hurting, and let myself fall on you for comfort even when i knew you weren't who i wanted. who i needed. and it wasn't fair to you. i know that now, and i'm sorry it took me so long. i'm really, really sorry."

huh. you hadn't really expected that one either. but it was nice to hear him say those words. you liked conrad. he was a good guy who'd had a rough hand delt to him. and yeah, he hadn't done right by you. but like susannah had always repeated:

"no harm no foul," you said, and let yourself smile at him. he looked relieved as he smiled back, no doubt recognizing the reference to his mother.

"you're happy now, i take it? with nicole?" you ask.

"yeah. more than happy, actually. don't know what i did to deserve her."

you're happy for him, in that moment. really happy.

"what about you? you finally stopped messing around and admitted your feelings to jere?" he asked.

"huh?" you drop, mouth open. there's no way.

"what," he chuckled, grinning harder at your shocked expression, "like it's not obvious you two are crazy for each other."

you can feel the blush spreading across your cheeks now, stomach skipping at his words. so they all knew, you realized. does jere?

"he doesn't--you didn't tell him, right?" you said, panic rising.

conrad shakes his head, still looking amused.

"no, but he'd be a fool not to see it. you guys are perfect for each other. really."

"thanks, conrad."

and you mean it--it's been months of awkwardness between you. and now you just feel... good. you feel like you've got your friend back. so you lean over and hug him, letting yourself remember that before your fling you were friends, and returning back to it feels comforting and warm.

"thank you, for hearing me out. i'm glad we can be back to normal now," he said into your shoulder.

"friends again?" you ask.

"definit--"

"what the fuck?"

-

it's jeremiah. he stands at the top of the stairs, eyes wide. he's wearing the ariana grande merch you'd gotten him. he looks the same and yet--

and yet something in your chest fizzes and your stomach starts running circles as you look at him. you missed him. and not because he was your best friend.

"jere--it's not what it looks like," said conrad.

and then you realized he did look different. the jeremiah you knew was always grinning about some secret joke, or making fun of belly or steven. he never looked... betrayed like this. and he certainly never looked at you with disgust. with anger.

"what the fuck are you guys doing?" he asked again, but this time he didn't even look at you.

"nothing, jere. we were just talking," said conrad.

you cringed at his words. they might be true, but they sure didn't sound good.

"yeah, sure," laughed jere. you'd never heard him laugh like that. it made your skin prickle.

"c'mon, you know i'd never do that-" conrad started.

jeremiah was faster though. he was up in conrad's face in a second, pushing him into the wall. you'd never seen him like this. he wasn't an aggressive guy; even when the brothers fought it was never violent.

"don't fucking lie, con. you were just waiting to take her back weren't you? waiting until you knew it'd hurt me the most, huh?"

you felt his words viscerally, like they were being penned onto your skin. hurt him the most? it was the closest to a confession you'd gotten, but it all felt wrong.

by now, partygoers on the main floor had started to notice the commotion. people were pointing, some even starting to pull out their phones. great.

"jere," you called. he paused, bright blue eyes on you. even now, fighting with his brother, jeremiah looked beautiful. maybe you had had a bit too much to drink.

"jere, please let it go. conrad isn't a part of this," you murmured. though you didn't break eye contact, you could see his hands loosen around his brother's shirt in your peripheral. jaw clenched, he heeded your wishes, giving a final shove to conrad before breaking away. he walked quickly down the stairs and into the throngs of people below.

"jere, wait up!" you call, desperately trying to follow the broad shape of his back through the crowd. jeremiah didn't bother trying to accommodate your smaller strides, and you almost lost him a few times in the packed house.

"would you please slow down? jere," you said again. by now you were out of the house, dodging pool floaties and scattered drinks. the blonde made no indication of hearing you as he kept striding towards the beach.

"jeremiah!"

finally he whipped around. he still looked mad--the set of his jaw, the notching of his eyebrows--but under all of it, he just looked sad. you hated seeing him upset, and you hated knowing you might've been the cause of it.

"jere, please. what's going on?" you asked, this time softly. he was close to you now. you could see his heavy breathing, could smell the perfume he always wore.

"how would i know. you're the one who's looking all close with your ex--my brother--conrad," he spits. he swallows hard, like he's checking himself.

"it was always you and conrad. even when we were kids it was that way. i was stupid to think it could've been any different."

he turned away from you, gaze hard. oh, jere. you have no idea, you thought. it was him--how could he not see that? how could he really think it was conrad you cared about?

you couldn't deny it any longer: you loved jere. and you definitely weren't about to let him walk away thinking otherwise.

quickly, without letting yourself dwell on it, you grabbed jeremiah's hand. he turned back, eyes wide. and you kissed him.

kissing jere was easy.

it was the first thing you noticed. how easy it was to let his lips slant over yours, to tilt your head back at the greedy request of his hands, to forget about the party and conrad and the house.

it was just him and the feel of his mouth on yours.

and then everything was static. everywhere he touched you--the long, lean press of his body to your front, the sharp slide of his jawline under your palm, the firm press of his hands at your waist. every sense was filled with him and his warmth and the way he smelled.

you were gasping into the kiss, hyperaware of the small noises he made when you pulled on his curls. of just how tall he was, how much he had to lean down to hold you like this.

you barely broke away enough to say, "jere, nothing happened with conrad. we were talking about you-"

"don't care," he said, voice rough. because he was too busy lifting you onto one of the wooden boardwalk rails, muscled arms flexing in the distant party lights.

you barely had time to settle before he was kissing you again, sloppy this time, like he owned your mouth and wanted you to know it. you felt hot everywhere, as his hands pulled apart your thighs and he crowded his broad body into you.

you'd kissed once before for a game of truth or dare. it had been sweet and short, and you both had been teased about it for years afterwards. this was different.

wholly different, you realized, as jeremiah's lips sought out the hot skin of your neck. there was no place except where he touched you; the noise of the party, the lull of the waves on the beach, the quiet way he murmured against your skin.

"jere," you said, because there was no room in your mind for anything or anyone else. he hummed as his canines bit lightly at your ear. jere.

greedy for more, you took one of the tan, strong hands holding your face and brought it lower, lower until it rested over your frantically beating heart. jere had pulled away to watch your ministrations, cursing softly as his hand fell over your chest.

"you sure?" he asked, and his voice sounded hoarse.

"yeah, course jere. it's you."

something behind his eyes sparked at the trust you promised. it's always been you. kissing you once more, gentler this time, jere let his hand run up and under the vintage bathing suit top you'd stolen from your mom for the party.

skin on skin, jeremiah was soft and warm. he was breathing heavy as you as he felt you up. forehead to yours, gaze keen as he watched you pant and squirm.

"this okay?"

you could only nod, eyes drawn tight at the sensation. he kissed you again, his touch more confident as you clung to his shoulders.

you'd messed around with conrad a few times. it had felt good. fun, even. but he'd never had you reeling like this, never made you feel like everywhere he touched was fire. that feeling was reserved for jere.

and as his thumb circled your nipple and his teeth pulled at your lip, you realized you were burning and there wasn't anything you could do to stop it. best friend or not, jere was the only one who could make you feel like this. ever.

you pulled away from his mouth. he looked concerned, and you could feel him move his hands away from you.

"sorry if i..." he started, blue eyes near scared as he watched you.

"no, jere it's not that. it's, it's just that i-"

"hey, there's my man! where the fuck were you dude?"

it was steven. fucking steven. on his arm was taylor, who grinned manically when she saw your mussed hair and blushing expression. please not now, taylor. please don't mess this up any more.

but drunk as they were, the pair didn't notice your nervous expression. instead, steven laughed and said, "so did you finally tell her you're in love with her or what?"

-

jere's face dropped. whatever softness you'd shared moments earlier was gone. his mouth set flat, hands that had been mapping out your body now closed into fists.

"fuck you, steven."

taylor's eyes were on you now, finally recognizing the tears you tried to blink away. with a hand on his chest she held steven back, some wordless communication passing between them. if you hadn't been feeling your own heart break you would've been trying to tease them about it.

instead, you chased after jeremiah's retreating figure.

"jere, will you please listen!" you called. but he was stubborn--you knew this better than anyone. one more time you tried, shouting his name over the stupidly loud party.

he whipped back around, blue eyes sharp.

"just stay away from me, okay? why don't you go find conrad to wipe your tears," he snapped. for a moment, jere looked shocked at his own words too. but then he was shaking his head, tearing his gaze away from yours as he continued through the crowds towards the house. away from you.

and this time, as people collapsed into the space all around you, their yelling and singing drowning out even your thoughts, you knew there was no use calling for him.