#while she brings a steady safe place for him to come back too when things become too much

[musedriven]

When you ship a pairing so rare you’ve gotta either make the art yourself or perish—

[nottsangel]

theo x reader x ron threesome?? 🫣🫣

“that’s not where the fucking clit is, idiota del cazzo. have you ever seen a woman’s body before?” theo disapprovingly snarles at poor ron, who is aimlessly moving his fingers along your aching core while you so desperately crave to feel something. “well, yes!” ron replies defensively, eyes narrowing as he glares at theo, before they dart away quickly. “…on a screen, i have.” he murmurs quietly, his cheeks turning bright red with embarrassment. “yeah, i can fucking tell.”

hearing the two boys bicker back and forth, you start to wonder if this was a good idea in the first place. but you so desperately wanted to help your poor friend ron, who has practically no experience with women— except for an awkward first kiss that he does not want to think about ever again. so, being the good friend that you are, you offered to help him out and asked your other friend, theo, who, on the other hand, has maybe a little too much experience with women, to teach ron how to please a girl.

“before you cum in your fucking pants, go on and fuck the poor girl. she’s been dripping for the past hour.” you watch with an amused grin as the absurd scene unfolds before you— it’s like watching a bad comedy, and you can’t help but be entertained. you had never thought you’d see your two friends, who are polar opposites, together like… this.

ron quickly removes his clothes, unable to meet your gaze as he carefully positions himself between your legs. you smile gently at him, wanting to make him feel comfortable and safe. “are you okay, ron? you sure you want this?” theo instantly scoffs, shaking his head in disbelief. “trust me, he jerks himself off thinking about you every night, piccola. of course he wants this.” your eyes narrow disapprovingly at theo. “i asked ron, not you. dickhead.” ron presses his lips into a thin line, his brows furrowed in embarrassment. “well… that just makes me sound like a creep!”

a wide, amused smirk appears on your face at his indirect confirmation of theo’s statement before you spread your legs further to invite him in. “nice and slow, yeah? or else you’re gonna be coming before she can even feel a fuckin’ thing.” theo commands, his tone still stern and devoid of any emotion as his tall frame looms over you both next to the bed, his arms crossed and his piercing eyes narrowed.

ron places his trembling hands on either side of your head as he leans down, his face merely inches away from yours, yet he still can’t bring himself to meet your eyes. he slowly pushes into your dripping cunt, making you throw your head back at the stretch as he hisses at the sensation, his hands firmly gripping the sheets to steady himself.

“hmm. doing so good ron, just like that.” you praise, your hand trailing to his flushed face, your thumb gently brushing his bright red cheek. “you— you feel so good, bloody hell.” ron awkwardly begins to move in and out of you, still unsure of what he’s doing but completely overwhelmed by the pleasure. “tsk. no need to praise mr. stiff hips when he’s moving like that.”

“don’t be so fucking mean, theo.”

“don’t question my teaching strategies.”

theo then strides towards you, swiftly unbuckling his belt right next to your head before pulling down his pants and boxers. his throbbing cock springs free against his stomach, precum leaking from the pink tip as his intense eyes hungrily stare down at you. anticipation surges through your entire body as his strong hand harshly grips your jaw. “open up, amore.”

your body rocks back and forth with ron’s thrusts, your tits bouncing with each movement as you obediently open your mouth, and theo quickly pushes his cock inside. “that’s it, baby.” he groans, both hands firmly gripping your head as he begins to slowly thrusts into your wet mouth. ron’s jaw gradually drops at the sight in front of him, half-lidded eyes fixed on the scene as you can feel his cock twitch inside of you, his hands gripping your hips tightly.

“i’m— i’m gonna cum soon!” ron pants, fingers digging into your soft skin as his thrusts become irregular and sloppy. “the fuck you aren’t.” theo snaps, his brows furrowed as he grips a handful of your hair and continues to harshly thrust into your mouth, drool running down your chin and tears welling in the corner of your eyes. “but i— i can’t hold it any—” “where are your fucking manners, huh? make her cum first, testa di cazzo!”

ੈ♡˳

reminder: reblogs and comments are greatly appreciated and keep me motivated. ty! ♡

[stevie-petey]

episode eight: the gate

“Drop me and die.” Your knuckles are white as they clutch the rope, your body shaking with exhaustion as you try to ease your way down without further injuring your ribs.  Steve laughs and tightens his grip on your waist, steadying you as you finally inch the rest of the way down and land with a gentle thud onto the ground. “Like I’d ever dream of letting you go.” This time, you know it’s his words that cause you to shiver, not the exhaustion and pain.

Summary: you encourage nancy to take your place (everyone is shocked), you and steve are the newest babysitters in town, billy ruins things as always, tunnels are weird when youre concussed, you remind jonathan of an old promise, and when the snowball comes you make your own promise with steve that you know you can keep.

Rating: general, although very violent

Warnings: use of y/n, fem!reader, intense violence and blood, weapons, monsters, probably more im forgetting

Words: 20.1k (no one speak to me)

Before you swing in: this is it ,,, the final episode of season two <3 this chapter was both the easiest and hardest one ive ever written. there are scenes in here that i put so much into, and im so proud of where everything landed. handling so many relationships and dynamics was so incredibly difficult, but i adore where they ended up. i hope you guys do, too :)

-

“Eleven,”

“Mike.”

The two kids embrace, Mike holding desperately onto El as if he’s afraid she’ll disappear again any second, and she’s holding onto him just as tightly as their tears mix together. 

You watch them with a hand over your heart, your own tears spilling over. You can’t believe this is real, that El is standing in Mike’s arms alive and real.

The way they cling to each other brings more tears to your eyes. It’s obvious to everyone how much they love one another. You think about the endless batches of brownies you baked for Mike, how many nights you spent in his basement standing watch, looking for any sign of grief, in case he needed you there to remind him that it’s okay to cry. 

“Is that…?” Max asks Lucas, and he nods. 

“She’s back.” You exhale, feeling Dustin’s fingers slip between yours. He knows how much you missed El, he’s spent just as many nights keeping watch over you, reminding you to cry as well. 

Mike pulls away, his eyes shining with tears. “I never gave up on you. I called you every night. Every night for–”

“353 days.” El finishes for him, you’ve never heard so much emotion in her voice. “I heard.”

You think about the nights you found Mike huddled underneath the fort he once built for El in his basement, clutching the radio to his chest, passed out from exhaustion. You never mentioned it to the boy, knowing he’d simply deny and tell you it was nothing, but hearing El confirm what you already knew still hurts. 

“Why didn’t you tell me you were there?” 

You look around the room now, wondering the same as Mike, and then your eyes land on Hopper. While everyone looks surprised or confused at El’s reappearance, Hopper’s face is one of resignation. 

Everything clicks. 

He knew.

Hopper sees that you’ve pieced it together and steps forward. “Because I wouldn’t let her.”

You step forward as well so that you’re next to Mike, knowing that this will only upset him more. “You knew.”

“What the hell is this?” The chief ignores you, now speaking only to El. “Where’ve you been?”

“Where have you been?” El’s eyes darken, but she immediately melts when Hopper pulls her into a hug. By watching their body language, you can tell that they love each other dearly, and distantly you remember hearing about the daughter Hopper once had. 

Though you’re angry he hid El from you, you’re thankful they found one another in the end. You’ve never seen Hopper so tender with someone, and El seems to feel safe within his embrace, far from the skittish girl you found in the woods last year. 

“You’ve been hiding her!” Lost in your thoughts, you momentarily forget about Mike, who launches himself at Hopper and punches the man’s chest. “You’ve been hiding her this whole time!”

Hopper flinches away. “Hey–”

“Mike,” you grab his shoulders, knowing his anger will only do more harm than good, but he struggles against you as he tries to continue hitting the man. “We can all talk about this–”

“Let’s talk,” Hopper grabs at Mike’s shirt, finally forcing the kid to stop. Then, looking directly at you, he adds. “Alone.”

You look at Mike, silently asking him what he needs from you. You know the two of them need to settle their differences, that he feels Hopper’s betrayal the deepest and you trust him to make his own choices. However, with one headshake from him, you would prevent Mike from being alone with Hopper in a heartbeat. 

Mike knows this, he doesn’t have to even have to ask what you mean when you gently nod your chin at him. Taking a deep breath, the boy sighs and nods at you, indicating that he’ll talk with the cop. 

You let go of Mike and gently push him towards Hopper. “He’s all yours, but try not to kill him, please? I unfortunately like the kid.”

Hopper doesn’t play into your words and promptly grabs the back of Mike’s hoodie and marches him towards Will’s room. The door closes behind them, leaving you to deal with El.

Her nose is bleeding and she looks upset having Mike taken from her, there’s an exhaustion behind her eyes that you’re all too familiar with. You wrap an arm around her waist and pull her into you. “C’mere, sweetheart.”

El leans into the kiss you press upon her cheek and closes her eyes, relishing in the tenderness after the night she’s had. “Missed you.”

“And I missed you.” You place another kiss on her head. “The hairstyle suits you, by the way.”

This seems to lighten the girl up a bit, who giggles and quietly thanks you as she wraps her arms fully around you now, securing you into a hug. You allow her all the time she needs to collect herself. 

When you hear Mike’s heartbroken screams at Hopper, calling him a liar, you squeeze your arms tighter around El. “They’ll be fine,” you promise her, feeling the need to reassure her of this, though hearing Mike’s screams breaks your heart.

You understand why Hopper hid El, it wasn’t safe for anyone to know about her being alive, but Mike spent the entire year grieving for her. He lost a year of his childhood mourning the loss of a close friend, of someone he loves, and it isn’t fair to expect him to accept this. 

El nods at your reassurance before you’re suddenly shoved away from her. 

“You’re hogging the former dead girl, Y/N!” Dustin exclaims as he engulfs El into a hug. 

Lucas flashes you an apologetic smile before hugging the girl as well, focusing his attention on her. “We missed you.”

“I missed you too.” She responds, squeezing both boys tight. 

“We talked about you pretty much every day.” Dustin pulls away before pointing at you. “Y/N usually just cried.”

You elbow your brother, causing him to wince. “You say that like I don’t normally cry over things.”

Dustin opens his mouth to argue, but suddenly El’s fingers are pinching at his lips as she pries his jaw open. Your brother looks at you in alarm, and you’re too stunned to do anything besides watch in bewilderment. 

“Teeth.” El finally says,

You giggle, while Dustin simply stares at her as if she’s insane. “What?”

“You have teeth.”

Dustin breaks into a smile. “Oh, you like these pearls?”

When he makes an obscure purring sound with his mouth, you scoff at your brother and roll your eyes alongside Lucas. “Please, never do that ever again.”

“Eleven?” Max now approaches with a warm smile on her face, the most open you’ve ever seen the girl, and extends her hand for El to shake. “Hey, um. I’m Max. I’ve heard a lot about you.”

El looks at you and tilts her head, which you assume means she’s unsure what to do, so you step in. “Max is a friend, sweetheart.”

She eyes Max’s hand, looks up at her again, before bypassing the girl completely and going straight into Joyce’s arms.

You frown, confused by El’s unusual dismissiveness, and look over at Max. Her head is ducked down, embarrassed, and you make a mental note to remind yourself later to ask El what happened. Max is a good girl, they deserve to be friends and you know they’d get along if given the chance.

Joyce cradles El’s head and greets her with tears, and the girl responds the same. After they’ve hugged, El pulls away, her tears now ones of worry. “Can I see him?”

Joyce’s eyes flash to you, and the two of you seem to realize the same thing: it’s no coincidence that El arrived when she did. You think about what Dustin and the kids deciphered in morse code, Will’s hidden message. 

Close the gate. 

El is the only person you know can do it. 

“Go take her to him,” you tell Joyce. “I’ll catch everyone else up.”

The woman nods, her eyes appreciative, before gently guiding El towards Will’s room. 

“I’m assuming I’m ‘everyone’.” Steve says as soon as Joyce and El have left. 

You laugh, finally rejoining his side. “Yeah, pretty much.”

“Alright, catch me up then. Who was the girl and why does she have a bloody nose problem?”

“Her name is Eleven, or El. Besides the Demogorgon, and Demodogs, did we ever discuss El?”

Nancy speaks up from the corner, timid. “I, uh… Didn’t tell Steve a lot. We kinda just, we–we didn’t ever really–”

“I never let Nancy explain, and I was too afraid to ask.” Steve kindly saves Nancy, and something both you and Jonathan take note of. 

“Well,” you clap your hands, dispelling away any remaining tension for both your sake and the kids’ sakes. “El has these powers, she can make things move with her mind, and when she uses them she gets nose bleeds.”

Steve stares at you. “Okay…”

“Mhm. It’s just as insane as it sounds. Remember the whole Upside Down story Dustin and I told you about yesterday? Well, she can travel there and has a connection to it. With her mind. Somehow. I don’t actually know the logistics of it.”

“You’re doing great, bug.” Jonathan’s voice drips with sarcasm, but Dustin hits his chest to shut him up. 

“Thanks, Dustin. Anyways, El has these insane powers and she’s the sweetest, softest person I’ve ever met. We…” your voice trails off now, still getting used to the fact that she’s alive. “We thought we lost her last year, when she killed the Demogorgon and helped bring Will back.”

“But she’s alive.” Steve concludes. 

You nod, a natural smile spreading across your face. “She is.”

“If you say she’s the sweetest person you’ve ever met, then I definitely believe you.”

Steve’s words make you blush, the pure and honest way he says them, and both Dustin and Jonathan cringe. The two boys share a look, both for once on the same page in a long time, and make gagging motions. 

You see this and flick both of their heads. “I know where you both sleep.”

Both boys stick their tongue out at you, and for a moment everything feels normal. Jonathan and Dustin are teasing you, Jonathan’s eyes are lit up, and your brother is carefree again. 

Then Joyce returns to the living room with El and the mood becomes somber again. 

They stand over the kitchen table, El stares down at the piece of paper with the “close gate” on it, and Joyce asks the question you’ve all been wondering. “You opened this gate before, right?”

“Yes,” the girl responds as you and everyone else now join her and Joyce. 

“Do you think if we got you back there, that you could close it?”

El looks between you and Joyce, her gaze stony and resigned. You wonder what else she’s gone through to put such a void within her; like all the other kids, she no longer has a sweet naivety to her.

Then, slowly, El nods. 

– 

“It’s not like it was before. It’s grown. A lot.” Everyone stands in the kitchen, circling around Hopper as he explains exactly what the gate now is. “I mean, that’s considering we can get in there. The place is crawling with those dogs.”

You grab Dustin’s shirt and yank harshly at it. “Don’t you dare–”

“Demodogs.”

Hopper looks at him, sighing. “I’m sorry, what?”

“Please just ignore him.” You plead with the officer, knowing he’s already in a bitchy mood. 

Dustin doesn’t pick up on the anger, though. “I said, uh… Demodogs. Like Demogorgon and dogs.”

“Oh my god,” you groan, rubbing at your temples. You’ve heard this explanation of the word play a million times within the last twenty-four hours. If you have to hear Dustin explain what Demodog means one more time, you think you may murder the kid.

Dustin, unfortunately, continues. “You put them together… it sounds pretty badass–”

“How is this important right now?” Hopper snaps at the boy, which only makes you more annoyed. 

You put your hand up at the old man, closing your fingers together to mimic a mouth being shut. “One more aggressive comment to the thirteen year old and I will show you that Nancy isn’t the only one who can shoot a gun.”

“Uh, Y/N…” Jonathan nervously mumbles, unsure what Hopper’s reaction may be. 

However, the chief simply raises an eyebrow at you, stares you down for a few seconds, before finally seeming to decide that he’s impressed with your bold comment. “I’ll make sure to remember that.”

“I can do it.” El suddenly voices from the other end of the table.

“You’re not hearing me.” Hopper’s shoulders slump. You can tell by his now defeated stance that he has yet to win an argument against El, something that you’re incredibly proud of her for. 

“I’m hearing you. I can do it.”

“Even if El can, there’s still another problem.” Mike speaks up, looking around the table to ensure everyone is listening. “If the brain dies, the body dies.”

Max frowns. “I thought that was the whole point.”

“It is, but if we’re really right about this…”

“Will,” you breathe out quietly with dread, understanding where Mike is going with this.

Mike continues explaining. “I mean, if El closes the gate and kills the mind flayer’s army–”

“Will’s a part of that army.” Lucas finishes as he looks over at you, now knowing why you’ve just exhaled the boy’s name with grief. 

“Closing the gate will kill him.” 

Jonathan tenses at Mike’s words, and you place your hand against the back of his neck in a grounding manner. You can feel his rapid heartbeat against your hand, even from this position, and you play with his hair to try and soothe him. 

He’s terrified of what may happen to his little brother, once again struck with pure terror that he could lose him. You’re not sure how many more times Jonathan can grieve his brother without losing a piece of himself.

Steve, standing on your other side, sees the way your fingers intertwine in Jonathan’s hair. The same way they did earlier with his own hair as you hugged him.

He frowns, looking away. 

Everyone else falls silent as well, Mike’s words hang in the air. Your gaze shifts to Joyce, who has a deep frown on her face, and before you ask her what she’s thinking, she stands up from the table. “Follow me.”

No one says anything as you all follow the woman to Jonathan’s room, where Will lays motionless on top of the bed you’ve slept in for years. His body is stiff, the hospital gown swallows him, and the sight disturbs you. 

You walk over to the boy and kneel next to the bed. It’s in your nature to take care of Will, you do this without even thinking about it. Stroking his forehead, you place a kiss against it as you watch his mom in the doorway.

“He likes it cold.” Joyce mumbles, eying the open window in the room. 

“What?” Asks Hopper, standing behind the woman. 

Joyce looks over at her son now. “It’s what Will kept saying to me. He likes it cold.” Then, as her voice grows stronger, she walks over to the window and slams it shut. “We keep giving it what it wants.”

Nancy and Jonathan walk over to you now, the girl remains standing while Jonathan kneels down next to you. The two of you take turns caressing Will’s forehead as Nancy starts to speak. “If this thing is a virus, and Will’s the host, then…”

“Then we need to make the host uninhabitable.” 

You turn to Jonathan, not at all liking what he’s saying. “What does that even mean? He’s a kid, how do you make a child’s body uninhabitable?”

“He likes it cold.” Nancy says, as if that explains everything. 

“But–”

Joyce clenches her jaw and spits out, “We need to burn it out of him.”

Everything about what Joyce has said makes your stomach twist. You look down at Will’s body, at how small he still is despite a year of trying to get him to recover, and his pale skin is almost translucent in the bedroom’s lighting. 

You hate everything about what’s happening, but you hate the way Will looks lifeless even more. 

If making his body uninhabitable can save him, then you have to try; you’ll simply be there to pick up the pieces when it’s done, as you always are. 

The kids begin planning now.

“We have to do it somewhere he doesn’t know this time.” Mike says. 

“Yeah, somewhere far away.” Dustin adds on. 

“Last I checked, none of us have a hidden hut in the woods.” You say, at a loss for where else to possibly take Will. Then, Hopper clears his throat and shifts his weight. “Oh, no fucking way. You would have a hidden hut in the woods.”

“It’s a cabin.” Hopper corrects with annoyance, though there’s a slight glint in his eye as he looks at you. “Joyce and Jonathan will take Will there.”

“Well, go show them the cabin, then.”

Jonathan grabs your hand. “You’re not coming with?”

As if there’s a string tugging at the back of your head, you turn around and catch Steve’s eye. He’s standing in the doorway, eyes alert yet sad, and you know with everything within you that you can’t leave him behind. 

Not when he was shaking in your arms only twenty minutes prior. 

Steve doesn’t want to be alone, especially not when you’d be leaving him behind with Nancy after it’s become clear that she’s with Jonathan now. 

Now, as Jonathan’s open and expecting eyes stare into yours, you do something you’ve never done before. Something you’ve needed to do ever since you were twelve and grabbed the boy’s hand on the Wheeler’s porch that fateful night.

You let go of Jonathan. 

“I can’t,” you tell him, the words of denial feeling foreign on your tongue. You’ve never told him no before, never left him behind, but saying the words isn’t as difficult as you once feared. “I’ll stay with the kids, I’m better with them anyways.”

Jonathan watches you, his eyes trace over your face again and again as if drinking it in for the very last time. When he seems to find what he’s looking for, he takes a deep breath and nods. “Yeah, okay.”

His understanding of everything you don’t say almost makes you take it all back, but you don’t. Instead, you squeeze his hand and nod towards Nancy. “Why don’t you take Nance?”

Something shifts when you say this, you know Jonathan feels it as well. There’s an ease within the shift, almost akin to a soft exhale in December’s cold. It parts you with a gentle farewell, strokes your cheek as it departs, and you can faintly see its outline as it floats away. 

A thread, one that has tugged within your chest in a painful ache since last year, finally loosens. 

Nancy looks at you, her eyes wide. “Me?”

“Mhm,” you nod at the girl, a kind smile on your face. 

It’s a monumental shift, you’re willingly encouraging Nancy to be next to Jonathan’s side rather than you. It’s an exchange of powers, trusting her to take care of the boy you love so dearly. 

For once, it doesn’t feel like you’re tearing off a piece of yourself. Instead, you’re simply sharing the weight of it, of this trust, rather than losing it.

“I… I think I’ll stay here.” Nancy finally says, looking away in shame.

You don’t blame her, you know she carries a weight of guilt within her for things she couldn’t control. There’s a lot you want to say to her, a lot you have to say to her, but for now you simply nod at her, understanding. “Then I’m happy you’re here.”

And you mean it.

Steve, still quietly standing in the doorway, sees everything. He felt the shift, too.

– 

“You should go with him.” Steve picks up a spare heater, he and Nancy have been sent outside to retrieve whatever they could find from the Byers’ yard. 

The shift weighs heavily upon him. Your words ring in his ears. 

Nancy spares Steve a glance. “What?”

“With Jonathan.” He bends down to dig through some old Christmas lights, and seeing them reminds him of you. Everything reminds him of you. “Y/N’s right. You should go with him.”

“No, I–” Nancy scoffs, uncomfortable. “I’m not just gonna leave Mike.”

Steve thinks about you, about how you’re always the one who stays. “No one’s leaving anyone.” He walks over to Nancy and helps her with a radiator she’s struggling with. “I may be a shitty boyfriend, but… I realized I’m actually a pretty damn good friend and babysitter.”

Though he never says your name, Nancy can feel it hang over the two of them. The unspoken confession that it’s because of you that Steve now accepts what has happened between them. It strikes her then, how different he is now. How differently you and the girl came to know Steve.

Nancy stares at him, her eyes are filled with more remorse than he’s ever seen from the girl. It hurts, seeing her so upset, and he wishes that things could’ve been different. He recognizes now that they didn’t stand a chance, though he’s happy they tried anyways. It was always going to end like this between them.

Steve doesn’t hold any anger towards her, he doesn’t hate her, because he still loves her. 

How could you possibly fault the person you love for finding their own love?

“Steve…” His name comes through as an apology.

“It’s okay, Nance.” Steve means it, he gives her the same blessing that you did. She’s allowed to be happy, you both want her to be happy, and you have each other to lean on now. “Y/N and I will be okay.”

He leaves Nancy standing there.

– 

You’re waiting to say goodbye to El, standing patiently behind Mike as the two of them make promises about coming back. It’s sweet, watching them, until they slowly start to lean in for what you fear is a kiss, so you intervene. 

“Hate to ruin the moment, but I’d like to say goodbye to El, too.”

Mike glares at you. “Couldn’t wait five seconds?”

“A five second kiss is shameful, Wheeler.”

El giggles softly and pulls you into a hug. “I will be careful.”

You kiss her cheek. “Come back this time, okay?”

“I will.” 

Hopper calls the girl over to get in the car so they can leave, and you quickly run over to Jonathan’s car before he can get in. 

When he sees you approaching, he extends his arms out and pulls you in as he always does. No words are needed, he simply holds you so that you’re chest to chest and he can feel every breath you take. “I’ll come home to you.”

You bury your face in his neck, inhale the scent you’ve come to associate with your childhood and warm, sunny days. “I love you.”

“I love you, too.” 

The words ease between the two of you, finally warm after months of being cold. 

Nancy then appears, and when you notice her you break away from Jonathan. “I see you’re joining?”

“I am.” She nods. “Seems I have you to thank.”

You smile and grab her hand. Your grip is firm, but sincere. “Don’t make me regret it, okay?”

Your words are teasing, but Nancy senses the undertones of a warning. Jonathan is your best friend, she has always known this, and she knows how much weight has gone into your trust for her. Nancy understands that you’re giving her something precious to you, and she will forever be indebted for it. 

“I won’t.” She promises. “And good luck with Steve and the kids.”

“Oh, I’ll need it.” You laugh, and any remaining tension that has hung over you and Nancy finally disappears. 

Once Jonathan and Nancy get into the car, you stand on the porch with Steve and everyone else as you watch the cars drive away. 

– 

 You poke around the Byers’ kitchen for some food; your stomach has been rumbling for hours and you’re sure the kids are hungry, too. However, like usual, you come up with nothing. As you dig through a cabinet, Dustin walks into the kitchen and starts clearing out the fridge. 

“What are you doing?” You ask, knowing that this can’t be for anything good. 

Dustin doesn’t answer, continuing to carelessly throw racks of food onto the floor.

“Hey, stop!” As you walk over, Steve suddenly comes rushing in, holding a very dead, and very disgusting, Demodog. 

“Is this really necessary?”

“Absolutely not.” 

Dustin groans at you. “C’mon, Y/N! This is absolutely necessary, it’s a groundbreaking scientific discovery.”

“It is a dead creature, from an alternate universe–” 

“We can’t just bury it like some common mammal, okay? It’s not a dog–”

“Oh, so now it’s not a dog after you’ve stated a million times that it’s a Demodog–”

Steve steps in between you and Dustin. “Alright, alright, enough!” He begins to shove the Demodog into the fridge before you can stop him. “But Dustin, you’re explaining this to Mrs. Byers, alright?”

“You both are idiots,” you mumble, watching as Steve and Dustin pathetically try to make the giant Demodog fit into the fridge. “I’m leaving.”

You’re seriously starting to regret their friendship. 

However, you know when to pick your battles, and as you watch the two boys try to maneuver the body into the fridge, you know that this is not a cause worth fighting for. 

Instead, you exit the kitchen and instruct the rest of the kids to start cleaning the house. It’s a mess, glass shattered everywhere from the dead Demodog and papers thrown haphazardly around during the morse decoding. 

The mess will only add more unneeded stress to Joyce’s life, so as Lucas and Max groan at you for making them do work, you stand your ground and shove a broom into their hands. 

“You suck, you know.” Lucas grumbles, but Max hits his shoulder and holds the dust pan as he sweeps.

As they get to work on the shattered glass, you figure it’s best that you call your mom before you forget again. You know she’s probably worried sick about you and Dustin for disappearing so suddenly without a word. 

However, when you walk over to the wall where the phone normally is, it’s gone. 

“Hey, uh. Where did the phone go?” You ask Dustin, who has finally left the kitchen. “I need to call mom.”

“Oh, Nancy threw it when it rang. She went kinda berserk.”

You look towards where Dustin is pointing and see the phone, in fact disconnected, on the ground across the room. The sight makes you snort. “Guess she really likes throwing phones, huh?”

Your brother doesn’t understand the joke. “What?”

“Nevermind,” you shake your head. There’s no use explaining to the boy about a quick, five second moment from last year. Nancy had done the exact same thing when Steve had tried to call the cops when the Demogorgon originally attacked you. 

Dustin mumbles something about your blood loss making you delusional, but you ignore him and begin sweeping the hallway. You order him to help, and soon the two of you are cleaning the Byers’ home. 

You’ve just finished sweeping when you notice Mike pacing around the room. He’s anxious, that much is obvious, and whenever he begins to pace: trouble soon follows. He’s brewing up a plan, you can feel it. 

After the fifth time the boy has paced the room, Lucas has finally had enough. “Mike, would you just stop already?”

“You weren’t in there, okay Lucas?” Mike stops pacing. “That lab is swarming with hundreds of those dogs.”

“Demodogs–oomph!” Dustin corrects, only to be cut off by your hand clamping over his mouth. 

“Say it again, I dare you.” You warn him before turning towards Mike. “Look, I know it’s nerve wracking, but all we can do right now is trust El’s abilities and wait.”

Lucas nods. “Yeah, the chief will also take care of her.”

“Like she needs protection.” Max quips from the floor, dustpan still in hand.

You feel a hand place itself on the small of your back. The weight of the palm is starting to become familiar to you, the length of the fingers and the way they splay across the span of your back are slowly becoming recognizable. 

Without turning, you know that Steve has joined you. 

“Listen, dude,” he says in a placating voice to Mike. “A coach calls a play in a game, bottom line, you execute it. Alright?”

You wince. While you’re impressed that Steve is trying to intervene and reason with Mike, you know immediately that his approach will fail. Trying to reason with the kid using a sport analogy is like trying to explain magic to a mathematician. 

“Okay, first of all, this isn’t some stupid sports game.” Mike rolls his eyes, which you expected. “And second, we’re not even in the game. We’re on the bench.”

“RIght! So–so my point… My point is…” Steve stumbles over his words and Mike’s unwavering insistence. When he can’t think of a better response, he lets out a defeated sigh. “Yeah, we’re on the bench, so–uh, there’s nothing we can do.”

You pity Steve, honestly. It takes years of careful analyzing and strategic planning in order to prepare yourself for an argument against Mike Wheeler. 

Patting his shoulder, step in to help. “What I’m sure Steve means is that while we may be benched, that doesn’t mean we can’t keep the homefront secure.”

“That’s not how sports work, Y/N.” Steve whispers obscenely loud, but quickly shuts up when you glare at him.

“Stupid sports analogy aside, there’s nothing we can do besides keep watch here and wait for everyone to return.” Even though you know you’re saying the right thing, that it’s best you follow Hopper’s order of staying put, even you don’t believe the words you’re saying. “We may not be able to help right now, but later, I promise we will be the best damn homefront ever.”

Dustin clears his throat. “That’s not entirely true.”

You turn to him and a sigh escapes you when you see the plan already forming behind his eyes. “I can’t argue with you, can I?”

“Nope.”

“Great, go on then. Share with the class what you’re thinking.”

“I mean, these Demodogs, they have a hive mind.” Dustin begins. “When they ran away from the bus, they were called away.”

Lucas thinks about this. “So if we get their attention…”  

“Maybe we can draw them away from the lab.” Max concludes, and you take a second to marvel at how seamlessly she’s integrated herself into the party.

However, you then remember what Lucas said. “Wait, what do you mean by ‘get their attention’? Why do those words scare me so much?”

Mike talks over you. “We can clear a path to the gate.”

You have a multitude of questions and Steve seems to be thinking exactly what you are when he loudly exclaims, “Yeah, and then we all die!”

“That’s one point of view.”

“Dustin, that’s quite literally the only way to look at it.” You flick his hat and he swats your hand away.

Steve points at you, nodding in agreement. “That’s a fact.”

“Thanks, Steve–” Mike’s body slams into yours as he runs past you. “Christ, Wheeler!”

“I got it!” The boy shrieks, running out of the room as he wordlessly instructs everyone to follow. He kneels in front of the fridge and points wildly at one of the pictures Will has drawn. “This is where the chief dug his hole, this is our way into the tunnel.”

“Into? What do you mean into?”

Mike shoves past you again and runs into the living room. “Here, right here.” He stands in the middle, where all the pictures have interlocked together to form a center. “This is like a hub. So, you got all the tunnels feeding in here. Maybe if we set this on fire…”

“Fire?” You shriek as Steve quickly follows with, “Oh, yeah that’s a no!”

Dustin, however, is on board with what Mike is planning. “The mind flayer would call away his army.”

“They’d all come to stop us!” Lucas waves his arms madly at you, as if saying this will get you to agree to the plan that’s forming.

You throw your hands up in surrender. “Look, I recognize that we could maybe do something–”

“Hey!” Steve looks astonished that you’re even considering this. 

“I mean, if we can help then I don’t see why we can’t just–”

Mike shakes your arm now, deciding that your hesitation is an agreement. “We then can circle back to the exit! By the time they realize we’re gone–”

“El would be at the gate!” Max now also is looking at you. “C’mon, Y/N. You have to admit that it’s a solid plan.”

You bite your lip. It is. That’s the problem with the Wheelers. They come up with these insanely dangerous and insane plans, yet they’re also always brilliant. You know it’s risky, Hopper could barely even explain the tunnels to you without shaking in fear, but… Who’s to say that the Demodogs won’t simply go after Will and Jonathan at the cabin? Or kill Hopper and El before they even reach the lab.

It’s obvious you can’t just sit here and wait. 

El has to close the gate, that much is certain, and because of this: you have to help her. You have to help everyone, keep them safe. 

“It’s a solid plan,” you finally breathe out, and all the kids start to cheer.

“I knew you were my favorite sister!”

“Dustin, I’m your only sister–”

“Hey! Hey–” Steve pushes himself in between you and the kids, clapping his hands to break up any further conversations. “Hey! This is not happening.”

Mike tries to argue, “But–”

“No, no, no!” Steve places his hands on his hips like a disgruntled father. “No buts. I promised I’d keep you shitheads safe, and that’s exactly what I plan on doing.”

You don’t like the way Steve is speaking to the kids, commanding them as if he’s their parent. “Hey, no. We aren’t doing that.”

“Doing what?” He looks at you, eyes wide as he quickly gathers that he’s upset you. The fight in his voice is gone, replaced with quiet guilt.

“We don’t ever command the kids, not like that, anyways.” You step away from them and pull Steve aside with you to give the two of you some privacy. “Look, I know you promised Nance you’d take care of them, but I also promised Jonathan. We have to help, Steve.”

His face twists with confliction, and the two of you are caught between what Nancy wants and what Jonathan wants. They both want the kids to be safe, but they have different viewpoints of how they expect you and Steve to do so.

Nancy wants to keep her brother out of it, Jonathan wants to save his brother’s life. 

“Y/N…” Steve breathes out, begging you to change your mind. 

The confliction on his face hurts to look at, you hate that you’ve made him feel this way, but you can only shake your head at him. “I’m sorry, but we’re doing this.”

“Yes!” Mike rushes over to you and surprises you with a hug. “This is why I keep you around!”

“Okay, no.” You push the kid away and hold him by the shoulders to ensure he listens to you. “That doesn’t mean I think we should all go down into the tunnels. I’ll go, and Steve will stay here with you guys–”

“What? No! You’re not going down there by yourself, Y/N.” Steve doesn’t understand how you would expect him to ever let you do that. “We’re all on the bench, okay? We’re waiting for the starting team to do their job.”

“This isn’t a stupid sports game.” Mike groans in annoyance before focusing his attention back to you. “And no one in the party gets left behind. If you go, we all go.”

The sincerity in Mike’s voice warms you. He’s defending you, protecting you how you’ve always protected him, and you’ve never been more impressed with his bravery; it’s because of this, his bravery and admiration for you, that you know you have to go into the tunnels alone. 

It would kill you if Mike got hurt, if any of the kids got hurt. 

Steve sees the way your eyes shine at Mike’s words and his stomach twists. He knows he can’t change your mind about going alone, he knows you’d never, ever let anyone get hurt. That you’d lay down your life for these kids and those you love. 

The bloodied cloth wrapped around your rib cage reminds Steve that he’s a part of it all now. You have laid down your life for him.

And he’s never, ever going to let you get hurt because of him again. 

Steve steps forward and gently grabs your arm, he needs you to understand how much your selflessness terrifies him in this moment. “Y/N–”

The revving of an engine cuts him off. 

It’s a familiar sound. You’ve heard this car before. The sound of it has seared itself into your memories. The hair on your arms stands up, and within seconds Max is at the window, looking out in fear. 

“It’s my brother.” Max’s voice is terrified. Not even in the junkyard, when Demodogs had been raining down on you and the kids, had you heard such terror in the girl’s voice. “He can’t know I’m here.”

You’re at her side in a heartbeat, tugging her away from the window. You’ve seen the way Billy acts around Max, you remember the harshness he displayed in the parking lot. The same harshness that left bruises on your waist when he had you pinned against the wall on Halloween. “I won’t let him touch you.”

Your words have a bite to them. Max hears the oath within them, she has never believed anyone when they’ve told her this. “He’ll kill me. He’ll kill us.”

“He won’t.” You promise her, trying to control the pure rage you feel because of her brother. He can do whatever the fuck he wants with you, but he’s hurt Max for the last time. 

Steve watches your exchange with Max and feels his hands clench into fists. Anger fizzes through his body. As you console the girl, your eyes meet his and he nods. With one simple head movement, the two of you have silently agreed to do whatever it takes to ensure that Billy never hurts Max ever again. 

–

“Am I dreaming or is that you, Harrington?”

You’re standing behind Steve. 

Billy hasn’t seen you yet. 

“Yeah, it’s me. Don’t cream your pants.” Steve’s hand tightens around your arm as he guides you further behind him. He doesn’t like that you’re here with him. He hates the way Billy’s eyes roam over your body without any shame. 

But you insisted on coming outside, and Steve has never been able to tell you no. 

You step out from behind Steve and force your hands to rest by your side in nonchalance. “God, I was hoping you’d be allergic to milk.”

Billy raises his eyebrows when he sees you; you’ve surprised him. “Why, it’s always a pleasure seeing you, sweetheart.”

Steve’s clenched fists only tighten when he hears Billy’s nickname for you. He hates the implications behind it, the way he says it with such sickly sweetness that leaves Steve’s stomach feeling raw. 

He can’t imagine how you feel whenever you hear it, and it only makes Steve hate Billy more. 

“It’s never a pleasure for me.” You cross your arms as Billy now stands in front of you and Steve.

The teen laughs darkly and eyes Steve up and down. “What are you doing here, amigo?”

“I could ask you the same thing… Amigo.” His voice carries an air of indifference, but you know that tomorrow there will be indentations in Steve’s palms from his fingernails. 

“Looking for my stepsister.” Billy lights a cigarette and smirks at you. “A little birdie told me she was here.”

“Huh, that’s weird. I don’t know her.”

Billy smirks at Steve’s words and motions over to you. “Yeah, but this little lady does.”

“Max isn’t here.” You say, forcing your anger down to play along with Steve’s indifference. “Have you checked the quarry? A lot of kids like to hang out there.”

Smoke surrounds you as Billy responds, “Don’t know what the hell you’re talking about, Henderson.”

With every dodged question, you’re only angering the teen more. If you and Steve keep this up, you’ll only make everything harder to manage. You try to think of something to distract Billy, but all you know about him is that he’s a sleazy pig with a cigarette addiction. 

Then, it hits you. 

His weird fascination with you. 

If you use it against him, maybe you can get him away from the Byers’ house long enough for Steve and the kids to leave. 

You step closer to Billy, ignoring every part of you that screams in rejection. You’re covered in blood and your hair is probably a mess, but you bat your eyelashes anyways and quirk your head up at Billy with an innocent smile. “I could show you, if you want.”

Just as you hoped, your sudden interest in him catches Billy’s attention. He presses his chest against yours and looks down at you, a pleased smile on his face. “And what would you be showing me, sweetheart?”

“The quarry, silly.” You giggle, trying not to gag at the reek of cigarette smoke. “It’s secluded… No one really goes down there. It’s, well–this is embarrassing.”

You duck your head down and act as if you’re blushing. Billy takes the bait and uses his fingers to lift your head up to look at him again. “Go on, tell me.”

You make a show of biting your lip. “Well, it’s where every teen in Hawkins goes to… Be alone.”

Billy’s eyes darken again, even more interested in what you have to say. He leans down, his lips inches from yours, and you know you have him right where you want him. 

Please, you think. I just want to protect the kids.

His breath fans across your face and he’s about to agree, to have you lead him away and forget all about his bitch of a sister, when Steve roughly pushes him away from you. 

“Max isn’t here, man.” He spits out, his once controlled anger now spilling over the edge. 

You want to scream at him, you almost had Billy. He was seconds away from agreeing, and the stupid idiot pushes him away from you? 

Billy looks between you and Steve and lets out a low chuckle. “Sorry, Harrington. Forgot that she’s yours.”

Steve moves as if to hit him but you quickly grab at his jacket, stopping him. Billy sees this and laughs again. 

“You know, I don’t know… This whole situation, Harrington.” He shrugs, exhales more smoke. “I don’t know. It’s giving me the heebie-jeebies.”

“Oh yeah, why’s that?” 

You’re silent, hand still clutching Steve’s jacket. 

Billy exhales more smoke. “My thirteen year old sister goes missing all day, and then I find her with you in a stranger’s house, alongside Y/N Henderson, the town’s darling, all bloodied and bruised. And you lie to me about it.”

From an outsider’s perspective, you hate how much Billy makes sense. 

To anyone else, this would look incredibly incriminating against Steve.

Yet, Steve still tries to deny it all. “Man, were you dropped too much as a child, or what?”

“I’m assuming he was.” You voice, looking nervously at Billy as he seems to grow more and more volatile. 

“I don’t know what you don’t understand about what Y/N and I have told you. Max isn’t here.”

Billy leans in close to Steve and points with his cigarette towards the house. “Then who is that?”

You and Steve turn, and your heart drops when you see Max and the boys all quickly duck their heads out of the window.

“Shit,” you breathe out, knowing it’s over.

You really hate those kids sometimes.

“Listen,” Steve tries to make up some excuse, but Billy roughly shoves him to the ground.

“I told you to plant your feet.” Bully sneers as he looms over him. You try to help Steve up, but you’re pushed aside as Billy then stomps on Steve’s ankle with a sickening crunch that makes your own wounded ankle sting.

As he storms towards the house, you quickly help Steve up, He pushes you away. “I’ll be fine, go help the kids!”

“But–”

You can’t just leave Steve while he’s hurt, but every time you try to help him up, he bats your hand away.

“Go!”

From inside the house, you hear the kids start to scream, and you reluctantly leave Steve behind and run inside. When you enter, Billy already has Lucas pinned against the wall as all the kids scream at him to let the boy go. Lucas is hitting at the teen’s chest desperately, but nothing is working. 

“Stay away from her.” Billy spits in the boy’s face, who is paralyzed with fear.

“Lucas!” You all but throw yourself onto Billy’s back as you begin hitting and pulling his hair. Anything you can think of, you try, but it’s no use. With Billy’s size and build, you’re nothing but a fucking bug to him. 

“I said get off of me!” Lucas kneels Billy in the groin, sending you and the teen flying back, but at least he’s let go of Lucas. 

You let go of Billy and place yourself between him and the boy, your breath comes out ragged. You don’t know what you’re supposed to be doing. All your mind can think of right now is protecting the kids, but in the midst of screaming and exhaustion and blood loss, you can’t think of anything. 

Billy tries to get to Lucas again, his teeth bared with fury. “You’re so dead, Sinclair. So dead!” 

In your exhaustion and fear, you call out for the only person you can think of. “Steve!”

He’s at your side in a heartbeat, quickly looking at you to make sure you’re okay, before he flings Billy away from you and Lucas. “No, you are!”

Steve’s punch lands perfectly, with a precision far from his pathetic punches thrown last year against Jonathan. It’s incredibly hot.

Billy begins to laugh in a manic manner that frightens you, but all of his attention is now on Steve, so you use this opportunity to drag Lucas over to the rest of the kids and make sure everyone is okay. 

You trust that Steve has everything else handled, but you make sure to keep an eye on him anyways while you take care of the kids. 

“Are you okay?” You check Lucas over for any injuries, who numbly nods as he’s still in shock, while Billy screams something about always wanting to meet King Steve. 

“Get out.” Despite Steve’s leveled voice, his tone is vicious. 

Billy swings again, but Steve manages to duck just in time before he lands yet another punch to the boy’s face. 

“Yes!” Dustin shouts with glee, but you remember the fight from last year. How Steve had lost miserably against Jonathan. A boy half of Billy’s size. 

While you’re impressed with Steve’s fighting improvement, you’re not sure how longer he’ll be able to keep this up. When more punches land on Billy and all he does is laugh menacingly, you know you don’t have a lot of time left.

You’re fucking terrified. 

The kids are still cheering Steve on when you turn to them, panicked. “You guys need to leave. Now.”

“What? But Steve’s winning!” Dustin says as Steve’s fist connects with Billy’s jaw. 

The sound makes you feel sick. 

You’re pleading now, terror clawing at your throat as you do so; your words slur together. “Leave, sneak out, and–and go through the front door and hide. Get help, okay? Just, go and find someone while Steve and I handle this–”

The sound of glass breaking against Steve’s head alerts you that your time is up. 

Billy hadn't been fighting back before. But now? He’s angrier than you’ve ever seen him. 

As Steve stumbles back in pain, you try pleading with the kids again. You don’t want them to see any more of this, of what might be about to happen. This isn’t just some fight between two teen boys. You know Billy better than that. 

He’s out for fucking blood. 

“Dustin, take everyone outside now!”

“We can’t just leave you!” Mike shouts and the others all nod. 

You want to cry. “We don’t have time for this, just–”

“Shit!” Dustin knocks against you as he dodges a punch meant for Steve. 

Steve crashes into the Byers’ bookshelf and you’re practically shoving the kids out of the door so that you can go and help, but they refuse to leave you and Steve behind. 

Billy has Steve by his jacket. “No one tells me what to do.”

With a sickening thud, he bashes his head into Steve’s and sends him flying to the ground. 

“Steve!” There’s blood pooling from his head and you’re gripped by fear so intense that you’re afraid you’ll pass out any second. 

Billy is relentless, now standing over Steve as he lands punch after punch. Every time his fists slam against Steve’s face, you feel them land against yours as well. Billy’s screaming like a fucking maniac and none of the kids are listening to you and Steve is getting bloodier by the second.

You’re torn. 

Dustin and the kids are staring at you, eyes wide with fear, and the front door is open; you could take the kids and run, but Steve is lying motionless on the ground.

It’s either him or the kids.

And yet it’s the easiest decision you’ve made all night.

“Get off of him!” You throw yourself onto Billy’s back for the second time tonight. 

You yank at his hair and try to scratch his face, but within seconds Billy throws you over his shoulder. “You demented bitch.”

Your head catches on the edge of a coffee table and you land with a thud on the ground. Almost immediately you feel blood drip from your eyebrow and you groan. Fuck. Definitely another concussion, but when you look over at Steve, he looks worse than you feel, and you force yourself to get up. 

Billy watches as you pathetically try to stand, and he laughs with cruelty. “What, want some more, sweetheart?”

More blood drips down your face and you feel the scratches on your rib cage re-open. Every bone in your body aches, but you pull out your switchblade and extend its knives. Your fingers skim over the engraving on its handle, reminding you to use the weapon with love. 

“This is your last chance.” You clutch at your side, hoping you look more intimidating than you feel. “Leave my family alone.”

Billy sees your knives and laughs at you. “Am I expected to believe that you’d actually hurt me?”

Your grip tightens around your switchblade. No one ever believes that you could be so cruel, so vicious. Billy is looking at you as if you’re some pathetic little girl, as if you haven’t killed Demodogs and Demogorgons. He’s looking at you as if you aren’t the sole reason everyone you know and love is alive.

You were once told to use the switchblade with love, that there was never any room for love when it came to violence. 

Now, as the kids are screaming at you to run and the pool of blood around Steve continues to grow, the onslaught of love that is always within you overtakes the fear. 

“I warned you.” With one quick movement, you swat at Billy and cut deeply into his shoulder.

He lets out an enraged scream and instinctively his fist goes flying. Pain erupts in your left eye and you know that you’ll have the worst time ever trying to explain to your mom later how you got a black eye. 

“Fuck!” You groan, dodging every other punch that Billy throws your way as he starts to approach you. With one eye quickly swelling up and the other blinded by blood, you do your best to stumble away from Billy, but it’s no use. 

Your foot catches on the carpet and almost as quickly as you fall, Billy is right there to wrap his hands around your throat and squeeze. You inhale sharply and panic overtakes you as you claw at his hands, drawing blood from him as well, but his fingers only tighten. 

“Y/N!” Dustin’s vocal chords strain from how loud he screams your name.

Billy seems to get a kick out of hearing your brother plead for your life, and he squeezes even tighter as you flail. “Not so tough now, are you?”

You struggle to free yourself, to do anything, but you can’t. 

For the first time since Will went missing, you truly believe that you’re about to die.

Steve is practically dead on the ground below you, he’s bleeding so much from his head that you’re terrified he’ll never wake up, and the kids are defenseless as they scream with tears in their eyes. 

Your baby brother is about to watch you die. 

Spots begin to form in your vision and it’s getting harder and harder to move your limbs. To make them do as you command. 

You know it’s your brain shutting down from the lack of oxygen. 

I hope Jonathan doesn’t blame himself.

Your world fades to black. 

Billy screams.

And you feel your body drop to the ground.

– 

The first time you wake up, it’s to Dustin huffing as he tugs at your arm. “God, you’re heavier than you look.”

You promptly pass back out. 

The second time, it’s dark outside and you register that you’re cold, but your eyes sting and you’re out again.

You wake up a few more times, always in a daze, and never more for a few seconds at a time, before the feeling that you’re moving wakes you up for good. 

It takes a moment for your eyes to adjust to the dark, your left eye barely even opens, and the pounding in your head is blinding in itself. Blinking a few times, you look down and finally notice that Steve is sprawled on your lap. You’re in the backseat of someone’s car. 

Your head is resting against someone’s shoulder. When you try to lift it to see who it is, you feel someone gently guide your head back down. “Shh, it’s okay. Don’t move too fast, alright? Don’t want you yacking on us.”

“Dustin?” You immediately regret trying to speak. Your voice comes out hoarse and raw and the pain is so intense that it only makes your head pound more.

“Right here, sis. Try not to speak, you sound like a frog.”

You try to sit up again, forgetting that Steve is sprawled on top of you, and your movements cause him to wake up. When his eyes manage to blink open, he tilts his head at you and mumbles, “Nancy?”

“Wha–” Again your voice cracks and you feel so delirious. Are you Nancy?

Steve attempts to wipe away the blood on his face but Dustin stops him with a gentle chiding. “No, don’t touch it.”

Steve brings a shaky hand up to your face and carefully rests it against your cheek. “You’re… You’re bleeding.”

Dustin puts the hand down. “Hey, buddy. Y/N is bleeding, good job. You’re bleeding, too. It’s okay though, you put up a good fight. I mean, he kicked your ass but you put up a good fight.”

Your brother’s words ring in your ears. He’s saying so much and you’re trying to swallow down the vomit that threatens to spill out. 

“Okay, you’re gonna keep straight for half a mile, then make a left on Mount Sinai.” A voice rings out, one different from Dustin’s. 

Was that Lucas?

“What’s going on?” Steve slurs, trying to process everything happening. He blearily looks back up at you. “Who’s driving?”

“Not me,” you manage to croak out.

A beat of silence passes. 

Then, at the same time, you and Steve realize: Max is the one driving. 

You’re more awake now and you try to say more, but your throat has swollen shut from speaking and it feels like it’s on fire. 

Thankfully, Steve is here to say everything you can’t. “Oh my god!”

“Just relax, she’s driven before.” Dustin reassures, slapping your hand away when you try to reach over to the driver’s side. 

“Yeah, in a parking lot.” Mike says, and you notice he’s also here now. 

“That counts.”

You want to scream at Max to pull over and demand the keys from her, but your bruised throat prevents you while your bleeding rib cage traps you in. While you can’t say anything, all Steve can say is, “Oh my god.”

“They were gonna leave you guys behind–”

“Oh my god.”

“But I promised that you’d be cool, okay?” Again Dustin slaps your hand away and all but shoves his leg over you so that you remain seated. 

Max then presses down on the gas pedal and the car increases its speed, which only makes the entire situation worse. 

Steve, rightfully, freaks out. “Whoa, whoa, whoa! What’s going on? Stop the car, slow down!”

You twist in your seat and blindly grab at Steve’s hand, both thanking him for voicing all that you can’t and also to try and prevent the poor boy from passing out again. 

“I told you he’d freak out! At least Y/N shut up!” Mike shouts over at Dustin. 

While you’re flattered that you’re officially cooler than Steve in Mike’s eyes, if you had a functioning throat right now, you’d be letting out some very choice words. 

“Stop the car!” Steve screams again, but the little rainbow bandaids on his cheek take away from his commanding nature. 

You hope that Dustin at least chose some pretty bandaids for your face. 

“Everybody shut up! I’m trying to focus!” Again, Max doesn’t at all help the situation at hand. 

“Wait, that’s Mount Sinai. Make a left!” Lucas points to where Max needs to go and you wonder why they trusted the girl, who just moved to Hawkins a week ago, to know where to go. 

“What?”

“Make a left!” Lucas screams, and Max quickly yanks the car to the left.

You, Steve, and the kids all scream as she hits what you hope is a mailbox. As the car jerks, you topple onto Steve and let out a painful, weird mix of a croak and shriek as the car continues to turn. Dustin tries to steady himself against you as he screams and Steve fully grabs your waist and uses you to shield himself from danger.

What a hero. 

Then, you almost go flying out of the windshield as Max suddenly stops the car. 

“Hello!” Steve exclaims, gripping you tightly still. 

Dustin giggles. “Whoa!”

“Incredible,” Mike breathes out. 

Meanwhile, you think your heart fell out of your ass about five blocks ago. 

“I told you. Zoomer.” Max smirks with pride. 

“She terrifies me,” you whisper, and Steve nods in agreement. 

The kids begin getting out of the car and seem to have some unspoken plan being set into motion. Dustin pats your shoulder before leaving you behind with Steve as the others go towards the trunk. 

Not knowing what the fuck is happening, you kick Steve so that he falls off of you and onto the grass so that you can follow after your brother. When you get out the car, you march over towards where all the kids are standing and silently demand an explanation. 

Mike notices you first. “What? Cat got your tongue?”

You refrain from shoving his face in the mud and point towards the goggles he’s holding. He sighs and hands it to you while Dustin ties a bandana around your neck and Max grabs a gallon of gasoline. 

Seems like they’re sticking to the plan from earlier, then.

When Steve realizes this, as he is gripping onto the car for dear life, he whines. “Oh, no. Guys.”

Everyone ignores him and he continues to try to stop what’s happening. You hobble over to him, a new wave of nausea and pain washing over you, and lean against him helplessly. There’s no use trying to explain to him that the party won’t listen. For now, you simply relish in his presence and enjoy how he feels against you. 

“We are not going down there right now!” Steve, though gentle to not jostle you around too much, waves his hands in the air as he screams at Max. “I made myself clear. There is no chance we’re going to that hole, alright?”

Similar to last year, Steve begins to spiral in his fear. He wraps his arms around you and places you against the car before he runs over to Dustin and throws that backpack that’s in the kid’s hands. “This is not happening!”

You slowly walk over and grab the thrown backpack, hoping that Dustin can reason with the teen. 

“Steve, you’re upset. I get it, but the bottom line is that a party member requires assistance and it is our duty to provide that assistance.” When you join Dustin’s side, he helps you put the goggles on and brings your bandana up over your mouth. “Now, I know you promised Nance that you would keep us safe. So keep us safe.”

He hands Steve the backpack you retrieved. 

Steve looks between you and your brother. You both look absolutely ridiculous in your get up, and he knows he has no other choice but to agree. His eyes meet yours and he silently asks if you’re sure about this, he will always look to you for the answers. 

You nod, hoping that the small head shift is conveying what you physically cannot say.

I’m here, the kids need us, and I need you with me.

Steve hears it, sighs, and grabs the backpack from your hands. 

“Well, let’s get going.” He motions for you and Dustin to lead the way. 

– 

“I got you,” Steve’s voice is soft as his hands graze your waist. He’s standing below you, already having jumped into the tunnels so that he can help you climb down the rope safely. You’re not sure if it’s his touch, or the way his voice drips with promises to protect you, or the simple fact that you’re bleeding and bruised that makes your body weak. 

“Drop me and die.” Your knuckles are white as they clutch the rope, your body shaking with exhaustion as you try to ease your way down without further injuring your ribs. 

Steve laughs and tightens his grip on your waist, steadying you as you finally inch the rest of the way down and land with a gentle thud onto the ground. “Like I’d ever dream of letting you go.”

This time, you know it’s his words that cause you to shiver, not the exhaustion and pain. 

“Ahem.”

Turning around, you see Dustin glaring at you and Steve while Lucas is stifling laughs. You roll your eyes at them and step away so that you aren’t standing so close to Steve, and he seems to think the same and distances himself as well. 

“Holy shit,” Steve breathes out, now finally examining the tunnels. 

It takes your breath away as well. The tunnels are terrifying, but oddly kind of cool. There’s a dim light within them, almost ghostly, and yet it’s beautiful in a way that you can’t quite describe. Small particles float through the air, and you reach your hand out to feel them against your skin. It tickles, akin to snowflakes, and the reminder makes you yearn for winter again. 

Mike’s flashlight distracts you as he shines it towards a random section of the tunnel. “Yeah. I’m pretty sure it’s this way.”

“You’re pretty sure, or you’re certain?” Dustin asks, doubtful. 

“I’m 100% sure, just follow me and you’ll know.”

As soon as Mike’s declaration of leading leaves his lips, you and Steve share and look and immediately stumble towards the boy. 

Like hell you’re letting him lead. He’s a child, and he’s also incredibly horrible at navigating. Last time you let him guide the way, you ended up finding El in the middle of the woods. 

“Whoa, whoa, whoa!” Steve flashes his light at Mike. “I don’t think so.”

“What?”

“Any of you little shits die down here, I’m getting the blame. Got it, dipshit?” Steve takes the map from Mike’s hands and then looks over at you. “I guide, you take the rear?”

You nod. “Good luck.”

Steve smiles, his sarcastic bravado now gone, before he suddenly clears his throat once more and shouts. “From here on out, I’m leading the way while Y/N makes sure none of you idiots get lost. Come on.”

The kids groan and roll their eyes at him, but they fall into line and do as they’re told. 

Dustin walks in front of you and offers you his hand. He knows the uneven terrain will only increase the chances of your ankle acting up. “How’s the ankle?”

“Hurts,” you rasp, accepting his hand as you hobble along. He hums and helps you navigate, the goggles covering his nose makes him sound nasally. “Did I put up a good fight at least?”

Your throat strains to get all the words out, but Dustin seems to understand what you’ve said and laughs. “Yeah, you did a much better job than Steve–What the hell?”

Dustin stops walking and suddenly looks up. Unsure what he’s seen, you look up as well and gasp. Above you rests a giant flower-bud looking thing, except it’s pulsing in a very concerning and gross way and is the size of a car. When it starts to expand even larger, you realize before your brother does what it’s about to do; you tug at his hand and try to run away, but Dustin doesn’t move.

Then, in one grand blow, the bud explodes and releases what you can only imagine are pollen spores, and they spray all over Dustin. “Shit!” He falls to the ground, screaming and rolling around as if he’s just been shot, and all you can do is stand there and silently wait for him to calm down enough for you to talk to him. “Help! Y/N, help!”

You motion to your throat, but Dustin gags and scrambles to stand up before promptly falling back down again in his haste. 

Steve and the others have now joined and everyone is crowding over your brother with worry. “Dustin? What happened?”

“Pollen.” You croak, and Steve looks even more confused now. 

“It’s in my mouth!” Dustin spits onto the ground and coughs, wheezing every few breaths. “Some of it got on my mouth. Shit!”

Mike points his flashlight at you. “Any more useful insight from Kermit the frog?”

You glare at him, although the nickname is funny and you hate that it’s clever. You clear your throat, cringe at the sting it sends down your body, and respond, “Rose-bud thing. Exploded. He’s fine.”

Everyone tilts their head at you, not at all understanding what you’re trying to say, and you groan. It’s incredibly frustrating that Billy left you unable to say a goddamn thing without immeasurable pain. You honestly would’ve preferred that he stab you or something, because your intelligence and wit are so crucial to who you are as a person. 

Plus the whole Kermit the frog thing kind of sucks, regardless of how funny it will be later. 

“I’m fine.” Dustin gasps out. “As Y/N said, a rose-bud thing sprayed me.”

“You guys serious?” Max shakes her head, at a loss for why she’s even here. 

“Very funny, man.” Steve looks at you and teases, “And Y/N, I expected more from you.”

You give him the finger. “Dustin, not me.”

“Mhm,” he’s starting to walk away again, resuming his leader position through the tunnels, but he sends you a wink. “C’mon, Hendersons.”

The rest of the kids follow after him while you help Dustin up and wipe him off. He’s a mess, and he’s clearly still frightened, but he seems reassured by your presence and begins to calm down. When he’s ready, you and Dustin follow.

The tunnels are long, windy, and incredibly disturbing to be in. You can’t believe that something this intricate and vast has been laying underneath Hawkins for god knows how long. The ground beneath your feet is squishy and it takes both Dustin’s hand and immense concentration to not trip. 

Steve leads, his flashlight serving as a beacon to focus on despite the pounding in your head. The bandana tied over your nose only makes the ringing in your ears worse, but you’ll leave inhaling mysterious Upside Down particles to your brother. 

After a few minutes of walking, you’re starting to fear that the poorly drawn map from Mike really is just a poorly drawn map. Then, Steve stops. “Alright, Wheeler. I think we found your hub.”

You flick your flashlight around and your eyes widen. It’s huge. In the center lies a mound of what you hope is just mud, but you see a bone or two stick out from it and look away. To your left, there’s easily five or six more tunnels, each varying in width and height, and to your right is the same. 

Seeing how vast the tunnel system is, you’re thankful for Mike’s genius little brain. 

“Let’s drench it!” Except the vigor in his voice frightens you and you consider that he may be the world’s next mad scientist. 

However, a plan is a plan and you’ve already made it this far, so you set to work on spraying the area with gasoline. Between you, Steve, and the kids, within minutes you’ve created the world’s most flammable labyrinth. 

When you’re done, Steve guides the kids back towards the exit and you make sure everyone’s behind the two of you. He kneels, flicks out his lighter, and turns to everyone. “Alright, you guys ready?”

“Ready,” Max and Lucas say.

Dustin tightens his hand around yours, preparing to help you run as fast as you can with your ankle. “Light her up.”

Steve flicks his lighter open. “I am in such deep shit.”

“Together.” You nudge him with your shoe, and even though his face is hidden, you know he smiles. 

He takes a deep breath, winds his arm back, and flings the lighter into the center of the hub. 

Immediately everything bursts into flames. In the blaze, the strange roots that had been lying dormant on the ground now come to life as they flail against the heat. They twist and whip around, writhing in pain. The tunnels themselves almost seem to come to life as it writhes in pain. 

“Go, go, go!” Steve yells, pushing everyone back to start running. 

You stay behind with him, making sure all the kids have started to run before you finally let Dustin tug you along as well. The boy is screaming, hopping and dodging roots as best as he can while squealing, “Oh my god, oh my god, oh my god!”

Steve takes the lead now, having somehow memorized the way out. “Let’s go!”

You’re disoriented. Dustin’s hand is gripping yours so harshly and it’s taking everything within you to keep up, but your ankle throbs and your left eye has only continued to swell from the punch earlier. It’s becoming increasingly difficult to follow along, and in your disorientation you lose track of Mike. 

When he falls, everything within you snaps back into focus. You tear your hand from Dustin’s and you’re at Mike’s side in a heartbeat, but already the roots have started to wrap around his leg; he screams. “Help! Y/N, help me!”

Your hands shake as you reach for your switchblade, adrenaline runs through you so violently that you feel lightheaded. Mike’s screams are the only thing keeping you grounded right now. As he panics, you roughly grab his shirt and force him back before you start to hack at the root with your knives. 

“Pull him back!” Steve instructs the kids, who have now joined. “Y/N, watch out!”

You have just enough time to cut through one root before dodging Steve’s bat as he hits at the other. It takes a few swings, but with one final blow, you and the kids are able to pull Mike free and help him stand back up. 

“You good?” Lucas pants, patting MIke’s shoulders for any injuries while Dustin asks, “You okay?”

You pull Mike into you and quickly hug him, damning whatever time constraint you currently have against you. Your hands are still shaking, which Mike feels, and he gives you a quick pat before pulling away. “Glad you care, but–”

“We gotta go!” Steve steps between you two, bat still in hand, when a growl erupts from behind him. 

Dustin shoves everyone behind him before you can stop him. He’s recognized the growl before you have. “Dart.”

The Demodog growls again. He’s bigger than ever before, now practically fully grown. His growth distracts you long enough to miss Dustin slowly starting to approach him. When you do, you immediately try to stop him. 

“Dustin–” Fear overtakes you.

“Steve, hold her back.” He orders. “Just trust me, okay?”

Steve’s arms wrap around you and you try to fight back. “No–”

“Y/N,” he whispers into your ear, keeping an eye on your brother as well. “If you freak out now, Dustin will get hurt.”

He’s right, you know he’s right, but your brother is only a foot away from Dart now and he’s now smaller than the creature. One wrong move, and he’s dead.

Dustin kneels in front of Dart and you feel your heart drop. You don’t dare breathe as he takes off his goggles and mask and leans in closer to the creature. “Hey, it’s me. It’s just your friend, it’s Dustin.”

Dart slowly inches forward as Dustin continues to talk. “You remember me? Will you let us pass?”

This time, Dart’s entire mouth opens as he snarls at Dustin.

Again you struggle in Steve’s arms, but he only tightens his hold on you as you watch your baby brother, terrified, face off against the Demodog. 

“Okay, okay, I’m sorry.” Dustin lowers his voice, unwavering against Dart’s malice. “I’m sorry about the storm cellar. That was a pretty douchy thing to do. I blame Y/N, she’s always the one who makes me do the right thing.”

The little shit has you scared out of your fucking mind, and yet he has the nerve to somehow make this your fault.

If he gets out of this alive, you’re never, ever letting him go again. 

Dustin reaches into his backpack, eyes never leaving Dart. “You hungry?

“He’s insane,” Lucas whispers in awe. Both you and Steve tell him to shut up, scared that any noise will cause Dart to attack.

“I’ve got our favorite.” Dustin waves the candy in front of Dart’s face. “See? Nougat.”

As soon as the Demodog sees the candy bar, his demeanor shifts and he happily approaches Dustin. Within seconds, your brother has managed to re-tame his weird Upside Down pet, and for a brief second you feel bad that Dustin can’t keep him. 

“Look at that. Yummy!” He places the candy on the ground as a peace offering and he starts to motion behind him, waving for you and everyone else to start moving. “Eat up, buddy.”

Steve guides Lucas, Max, and Mike past Dart and through the tunnel that was previously blocked by him, but you stay behind. Your knives are drawn; you’re not leaving your brother’s side. 

“There’s plenty,” Dustin coos to the creature, placing down one last candy bar before standing up. When he sees that you’re still there, he grabs your hand and starts to walk away with you. Feeling his hand, warm and alive against yours, is enough to calm you down enough to follow. Before the two of you leave, however, Dustin turns around one last time to look at Dart, a sad smile on his face. “Goodbye, buddy.”

Dart doesn’t show any reaction, too busy devouring the candy he’s been given, and you gently tug Dustin along to safety, albeit with some guilt. He really loved that little lizard thing. 

As soon as the two of you are out of danger, you pull Dustin into a bone crushing hug. “You’re stupid.”

“Stupid brave,” he mumbles against you, though his arms are tight against your waist. He had been scared, too. 

You snort and pull your bandana down so you can kiss the top of Dustin’s head. “Just stupid.” 

“Guys, we gotta go.” Steve whispers, feeling bad for interrupting your moment with the kid. He can still feel the way your body shook in his arms, how he could hear your terrified heartbeat as he held you back. He felt horrible for doing it, but he promised Nancy he’d keep the kids safe, and Steve knows that she also wanted him to protect you, too.

At Steve’s urgent whisper, you reluctantly nod and pull away from Dustin. With one last shoulder squeeze, you pat his back and tug at his hand to start running. As you run, the ground trembles beneath your feet. You’re the first one to fall, Max and Lucas not far behind. “Fuck!” 

Steve has your hand within his in seconds and he gently pulls you up. His face is obscured from the goggles and banana, yet you can see the concern when he looks at you. When he stands you back up, he pulls you close and whispers, “You okay?”

You nod, about to tell him to keep running, when you hear the first screech of the Demodogs. 

“What was that?” Max inches towards your side, now long familiar with what the screeches mean. 

As if almost in response to the girl, more screeches follow as they echo through the tunnels. Only this time, there’s more of them; more than you’d even want to imagine. The hair on your arms stands up as the screeching continues. You know that if you don’t run now, none of you will stand a chance. 

“They’re coming.” Mike realizes. “Run! Run, let’s go!”

You snatch Dustin’s hand and practically throw the kid forward with how harshly you begin running. Lucas and Max run past, while Mike follows after Steve. Your footsteps fall harshly against the tunnel’s earthy ground and it takes everything within you to keep going. When you round the corner and see the rope, you almost sob with relief. 

“Kids first!” You shout, damning whatever further damage it’ll do to your vocal chords.

Steve understands immediately and kneels beneath the rope to give the kids a boost up while you hold the rope taught and help lift them. Max is the first up, both you and Steve more so throwing her rather than helping her.

“C’mon!” Steve encourages her, and with one final shove from you, she makes it over the edge and is safe. 

Everything happens so fast, it’s a blur as you help Lucas start to climb out, then Mike, and as you’re hauling Dustin up next, you hear the Demodogs drawing near. 

“Oh, shit!” Steve hears them as soon as you do and he grabs for his bat and starts to place himself in front of you and Dustin, but you stop him. 

“No!” You yank him back and then grab your brother, shoving him underneath the rope. The shadows of the Demodogs cast against the wall, you know you only have seconds before they’re here. “Throw him up!”

Dustin realizes what you’re about to do. “Y/N, no–”

But Steve already has a grip on him. “You’re going home.”

“No!” Dustin screams and tries to stay behind, wriggling and thrashing, but with Steve’s help, you’re able to lift him to safety before the first Demodog appears. Dustin, now safely above ground, sees this too. His heart stops. “Y/N!”

“Steve! Y/N! Climb up!” The kids begin to shout now, urging you and the teen to get out of the tunnels, fear alive in their voices. 

You look up at them, see their faces alive with youth, and then turn to Steve. He seems to be thinking the same thing as you. You’ve both run out of time. He nods, you do as well, and together you’ve accepted your fate. Steve draws his bat as you raise your knives. 

“Y/N!” Dustin’s voice rings through clearer than the other’s, the despair evident. You close your eyes for a second, wishing that there was more you could’ve done, but at least he’s safe.

Jonathan will take care of him, Nancy will, too. 

He won’t be alone, and you have Steve with you, who is holding your hand as if it contains all the secrets of the world.

It’ll be okay. 

You open your eyes. 

The Demodogs, miraculously, start to run right past you and Steve. They weave between you two, not at all paying any attention. You stand as still as possible, not wanting to wake them from whatever trance they seem to be in. 

However, one particularly large Demodog crashes against your leg and sends you into Steve’s side, who wraps his arms around you with a fierce protectiveness. You duck your head down, unaware just how desperately you’d been craving his presence, and he buries you further against him as the monsters continue to run. 

The two of you cower, curling into one another, steadying the other, waiting for something to happen. Steve has his feet firmly planted and stands his ground as more monsters run past, and without him you would’ve fallen minutes ago, trampled by the creatures. 

When you can’t hear any more Demodogs, you slowly lift your head from Steve’s chest and look around. 

They’re gone. Each and every one of them has left. 

You’re still in Steve’s arms, your chests are pressed tightly together and you’ve never been this close to him before. When you look up at him, you can feel his breath against your skin. There’s an odd look in his eyes, he’s studying your face as if seeing it for the first time, and his gaze makes something deep within you stir. 

“Thank you,” you whisper, needing to say something. He’s once again saved your life, and your eyes can’t seem to leave his. 

His fingers dig into your side, it’s the only way he can respond. The sensation causes you to shiver and your eyes slowly drift down to his lips. They’re a lovely shade of pink, flush and full. You wonder what they’d taste like, if he’s wondered the same about you. 

Steve stares down at you and feels every breath you take, the rise and fall of your chest matching his. The two of you stand like this for a moment, hearts beating together as you cling to one another, until Dustin clears his throat. 

“Ahem,” he draws your attention. “There are kids here, ya know.”

Lucas, Max, and Mike all snicker when you frantically pull away from Steve in embarrassment. Both of your faces are red, the air between you still hangs with something you’re not quite sure how to name. 

“We’re coming.” Steve mumbles to your brother before turning to you. “Ready?”

You take a deep breath and nod, your nerves still shaky from being so close to him prior. When you’re ready, you grab onto the rope and feel Steve’s always gentle hands grip your waist. You’re slow climbing up, being the most injured out of everyone, but he’s patient with you and murmurs encouragement as you climb. 

Once you’re safely up, you help the kids with Steve. The moment his feet touch solid land, he lets out a low whistle and claps his hands. “Well, I’d say that went well–”

Suddenly, Billy’s headlights begin to shine obnoxiously bright. The light increases in its intensity, glowing brighter and brighter, so much so that you and everyone else have to shield your eyes. Then, just as suddenly as it began, the lights shut off. 

It’s quiet. No one says anything, unsure of what’s just happened, but you know.

“El,” you whisper, somehow knowing it’s her. Mike nods, understanding as well. 

She did it. 

She closed the gate. 

You pull the kids into you, dragging them all in your arms in a giant hug. All you feel right now is disbelief. The plan worked. You’re all somehow still alive. 

Steve stands behind you, his chest firm against your back, and you allow yourself to gently lean against him. To accept all that he’s silently providing you; there’s no point in fighting it any more. He’s here, offering you anything you need from him, and you’re exhausted from pretending that you don’t see it. 

After a few moments of silence, you finally release the kids and nudge them towards the car. 

It’s time to go home. 

– 

“So what exactly did you guys do with Billy?” Steve’s driving and you’re in the passenger seat, waves of exhaustion crashing upon you. From the rearview mirror, Steve sees Lucas, Dustin, and Mike all turn to Max slowly. He frowns. “Why are you all looking at her?”

Max shifts uncomfortably in her seat. “I handled it.”

“She sedated him and we left him on the floor at Will’s.” Dustin fills in the information that Max opted to omit, which she elbows him for. 

Steve blinks, turns to you, and asks, “You heard that too, right?”

“Mhm.”

“Cool.”

When you get to Jonathan’s, Billy is sitting hunched over on the porch, waiting. He looks rough, his eyes bleary and his hair matted. When you see him, you feel your throat constrict in pain and a sense of panic builds within you. You look towards Steve, see his bruised cheek, then notice the way Max squirms in the backseat being near Billy, and the panic is replaced with anger. 

He’s caused enough pain and turmoil to those you love. 

Steve parks the car and turns in his seat so that he’s facing everyone. “Alright, we all see that Billy is awake, so you guys stay here while I go and–”

“We.” You correct, swallowing down the pain you feel. 

Steve inhales and looks as if he wants to argue, but he just shakes his head and continues. “Okay, we go and talk to the guy.”

“I want to come.” Max says, though she still refuses to look in Billy’s direction. 

You rest a hand on her leg. You understand what she’s asking for, to handle her brother herself, take her life into her own hands. Max is a brave kid, she’s shown you that much tonight, and while you trust her to make the right decision, you’re still hesitant. “Are you sure?”

She thinks for a second before nodding. Her eyes harden and she juts her jaw out. She’s made up her mind, and you get a kick out of seeing the fire within her. Max Mayfield is an incredible young girl, and you’re honored to know that she trusts you. “I’m sure.”

“Then let’s go.”

You, Steve, and Max walk side by side towards Billy, though you make sure to place the girl slightly behind you in case her brother tries anything. 

When Billy notices you approach, he lifts his head up and waves lazily at the three of you. “Back already?” His words slur together and his eyes are glossy; the sedative must still be wearing off. 

Max steps forward. “Take me home.” 

Billy eyes her, looks between you and Steve, and then sighs. “Fine. Any other demands?”

The girl shakes her head. “I’ll wait in the car.”

And then she’s gone, leaving you and Steve alone with Billy. 

He eyes you, sees the bruises on your neck, and a languid smile drawls across his face. “Seems I left a mark, sweetheart.”

Steve steps forward, but you put your hand out and stop him. You appreciate him, you do, but this is something you have to do yourself. You swallow again, feeling the tender flesh within your throat constrict, and try to make your words come out as neutral as possible. “Seems I did, too.”

Billy looks down at his shoulder, the wound from your knife is still bleeding. “So you did.”

Lucas and the other boys stand off to the side now, having left the car alone for Max. When Billy notices them staring, he sighs and wipes his hands off on his jeans and slowly gets up. “Well, my bitch of a sister awaits.”

As Billy leaves, Mike runs up the steps and unlocks the front door. “Y/N, think you could make those cookies again? I’m starving.”

You glare at him and Steve laughs. “I’m not sure she can even walk up the steps, dude.”

“Yeah, look at her.” Dustin waves his hands in front of you. “She looks like a zombie.”

Lucas makes zombie sounds and pretends to eat Dustin’s brains before Mike joins in. The three of them chase each other into the house, screaming “brains” and “die” as they mess around, leaving you and Steve alone outside. 

He steps in front of you, his back towards you and he crouches down. “Care for a ride?”

You want to argue, but it’s becoming harder and harder to keep your eyes open. It’d be a miracle if you even manage up the first step on the porch. Hesitantly, you place your hands on Steve’s shoulders and jump onto his back.

“Atta girl,” he laughs, standing back up so that he can carry you inside and join the boys. You wrap your arms around his neck and nuzzle your face as you close your eyes. You’re seconds away from falling asleep. Steve seems to sense this and slows down his footsteps so as to not disturb you. 

He navigates the home, remembering where to go from his time here last year. You’re warm against him and Steve’s fingers draw lazy circles onto your ankles. The boys are in the kitchen, scurrying around for any food, and Steve relishes in this small moment with you.

You’re placed down into a soft bed and the smell of Jonathan overwhelms you; you open your eyes and realize that Steve has taken you to the boy’s room. The bed is warm beneath you, the scent soothes your wounds. 

“Jonathan’s?” You ask, confused as to why Steve would take you here.

“Figured it’s where you sleep when you’re here.” He shrugs, as if it’s no big deal, before grabbing the blankets and tucking you in. His movements are careful and he makes sure your head is resting on a pillow and that he takes off your shoes. 

The gentleness of his touch soothes you. You’ve never let anyone take care of you like this before. You let him play with your hair, wrap the blanket around you so that you won’t get cold, and when he finally seems pleased with his work, he flicks your nose and smiles. “Get some sleep, dork.”

“Everyone is safe?”

His eyes melt. “They are. They’ll be home soon. In the meantime, I’ll rustle up some grub for those heathens outside while you sleep. Doctor’s orders.”

You giggle and grab his hand to bring to your lips. They linger against his knuckles, you inhale and breathe in his scent, and Steve’s breath hitches at the touch. “Thank you,” you whisper against his skin before placing another kiss. 

There’s such a lovely buzz within your chest, holding Steve’s hand fills you with this syrupy warmth like honey, and you’ve never felt it before. It drips down your skin and into your bones, healing wounds both old and new with its kisses. 

Steve squeezes your hand with his. He feels it, too. You both do. 

–

A body slides in next to yours, rousing you from your sleep. A hand wraps around your waist and the fingers, long and lithe and familiar, skim your skin lazily. The sensation almost lulls you back to sleep, you know whose touch this is, whose body lays next to yours. 

You open your arms and engulf Jonathan into a hug. His body lays atop of yours, reminiscent of the night a few days ago when he snuck into your room before he left with Nancy. Your body has long since come to anticipate his weight against yours, it’s become accustomed to how he lands upon you. 

“What time is it?” You rasp, stroking Jonathan’s hair with your fingers as he breathes steadily against you. You’re not sure how long you’ve been asleep, but the pain in your throat has lessened, your voice is slowly returning to normal.

“Early morning,” he mumbles, pressing a kiss against your shoulder. “Steve took Dustin home, no one wanted to wake you. Apparently you had a rough night.”

You laugh, then wince at the pain it draws from your throat and ribs. “You could say that.”

Jonathan places another kiss upon your skin, this time against the base of your throat. He litters kisses up and down your neck, his breath tickling as he does so. “I’m sorry,” he says in between each kiss, as if his words will make the bruises fade faster. 

Rather than respond, knowing nothing you can say will make him believe that none of this is Jonathan’s fault, you simply hum at his kisses and lean into them. “Will?”

“He’s okay, he’s safe. Mom is with him now.”

You hum again, relishing in the knowledge that Will is okay and that Jonathan is once again here with you. The house is quiet, everyone else asleep, and the two of you lay like this for a while. No more words are said, Jonathan presses kisses against your skin as your fingers interlock through his hair and you run your hand up and down his back. 

Somehow, you know this will be the last time you ever have him like this. 

Just the two of you, uncrossed in any boundaries. Skin against skin, kisses to wounds and fingers intertwined. You hope that your body never forgets the weight of his. You hope that it will always anticipate his impact, welcoming it after a long day. Jonathan’s touch will soon become ghosts lingering on your skin, and selfishly you never want this moment to end. 

Uncrossed boundaries, threads and strings and lines. 

They’re here. You can see them now, they almost glow faintly within Jonathan’s room, the same room in which you grew up in. 

“Bee?” You whisper, nudging him gently to get his attention. He lifts his head from your neck and looks at you, eyes open and listening. “We have to talk about it.”

The early morning light streams through the curtain and illuminates Jonathan’s face. His eyes are a mixture of browns and reds and ambers and you try to remember what they look like now, before the words are said and nothing will ever be the same again. 

“I’m scared,” he admits. You’ve made him into who he is today, with all of his quirks and humor and love. Jonathan doesn’t know who he would be without you, and he’s terrified that he’ll say the wrong thing and lose you forever.

“I know,” you stroke his cheek. “I am, too.”

“I don’t want to–I can’t lose you.”

“You’ll never lose me, Jonathan Byers.” You’re firm in your words, now grasping at his face with your hands. “We’re connected, remember? String theory, you and me.”

Jonathan has tears in his eyes. “But I slept with Nancy.”

His confession only makes you sigh. “I know, bee.”

“I–I think… I think this time it’ll turn into something more. I… I think I love her, bug.” His voice cracks, terrified of his own words. He recognizes now, far too late, all that he’s missed. “But bug… I know there’s–that there’s some things we should’ve talked about. A long time ago… but I just…”

“I know,” you know everything he’s trying to tell you. There’s no hurt in your voice, only resignation, but you knew this would happen eventually. “We missed our chance a while ago.”

“Did we ever really have a chance?” He asks, thinking back to the day the two of you met. How easily you accepted him into your life, the role you unknowingly assigned to him as your best friend. How, for years, he’d been so in love with you but terrified it’d scare you away. 

You play with his fingers, thinking for a moment. “I’d like to think that we did. I think we just… We missed each other, along the way.”

He smiles, bittersweet and somber. “We would’ve been something great, huh?”

“You’re my person,” you tell him, a certain sadness creeping into your voice. It’s the truth. No one will ever know you like he does, no one can unravel you the way he can. The love you have for Jonathan is unyielding, it transcends everything else you’ve ever felt. “Of course we would’ve been something great.”

“And now?”

You bite your lip, unsure. “Now we just… We let go.”

Jonathan tightens his arms and presses himself further against you. “I’m never letting you go, Y/N Henderson.”

You feel tears beginning to form in your eyes, both from grief and acceptance. “You don’t have to, but we have to let go of our claim to one another. You’re Nancy’s, now. It wouldn't be fair otherwise. To anyone.”

“And you’re Steve’s?” He asks, hesitant to bring the boy up. While you watched Jonathan fall in love with Nancy, he’s watched you fall for Steve. 

“I think I could really love him,” you admit, breathless. “I think I’ve already started to fall for him.”

Jonathan’s heart twists at the breathlessness in your voice, though he knows he’ll have to get used to this. To no longer being the reason for your bashfulness. It’ll take time, but he knows in the end that it’s for the better. “You deserve to go for it, bug.”

“Really?”

“Of course,” he playfully pokes your side. “Nancy fucked up with him, and I fucked up with you. The two of you deserve better than us, and I… I want you to be happy, you know that.”

“I know, but…” you turn to him now, needing him to understand all that you still don’t know how to voice yourself. “Remember our pinky promise from last year?”

Jonathan wiggles his pinky at you, unsure where you’re going with this. “I do.”

“We’ll always stay like this, right? You and me?” You know it’s selfish to ask, to expect everything to stay the same between you, but losing Jonathan would be the one thing you’d never recover from. He’s in your bones, now. He’s grown up alongside you, patched up your wounds as a child and now holds your hands through the nightmares you face together. 

It doesn’t matter how you and Jonathan end, whether you’re lovers in this universe or simply the best of friends. Regardless of what’s happened, he’s the most important person in your life. He always will be.

Jonathan presses a kiss upon your forehead, his lips warm. “Always, and I’ll always love you the most, bug.”

“I’ll always love you the most, bee.” The words come easily to you, an exhale after being inhaled so long ago. 

The world stills. Then, as slow as the sun rises after a harsh winter’s night, the strings and lines finally settle between you two.

“Let’s go to bed.” Jonathan whispers, wanting to hold onto you for at least a few more hours. 

In the late morning hours the two of you will wake up, and it will be the last time you do so in each other’s arms. 

– 

When Jonathan drops you off at home the next day, your mom freaks when she sees you. Dustin had tried to prepare her, making up some lie about how you’d fallen down at the Byers’ house and that’s why you couldn’t come home for a few days. However, your mom still had a heart attack when you walked through the front door with a split head, black eye, bruised neck, and a bloodied side. 

“My baby!” She took you into her arms and immediately set her eyes on Jonathan. “What, did you have a bear in the house or something?”

Jonathan looked over at Dustin with a helpless look on his face and your brother had sighed. He figured he’d have to be the one to take over. “Like I said, mom. Y/N just got really into our campaign and fell. She’s fine, I mean, look at her!”

You did your best to appear very fine and healthy, despite your concussion forming a horrendous headache. You forced a smile on your face, all teeth. “All fine and dandy, mom.”

Claudia Henderson hadn’t bought it.

You were placed under house arrest for two weeks. 

During these two weeks, you were only allowed to leave the house to either go to work (somehow Mrs. Waters still hasn’t fired you despite missing three days of work), and go to school. It wasn’t so bad, though. You had needed the rest, and Nancy visited you a few days into your house arrest.

You’re not sure when she officially began her relationship with Jonathan, but the first time she came to see you, she had brought a giant basket full of baked goods and comics she had asked Jonathan about. 

“You didn’t have to get me anything, Nance.” You had informed the girl when you saw her struggling to carry the basket. 

“I stole your boyfriend, it’s the least I could do.” You stared at her, eyes so wide that your black eye almost fully opened, and Nancy had let out a loud laugh. You’d never heard her laugh so openly before, and it was a beautiful sight. “It was a joke, Y/N. It’s okay to laugh.”

“Ha, ha, Wheeler.” You took the basket from her and inspected its contents. There were more comics than you could count and the muffins smelled delicious. “This is a good haul.”

Nancy had smiled, relieved that she’d done something right. She had bugged Jonathan all day yesterday, anxious to do something nice for you because she felt this crippling need to make you like her. He had reassured her a million times that you did already like her, but Nancy has never been the best at making friends, and she knows the history between you and her is tense. 

“You really like it?”

“I love it, dude.” You saw the way Nancy’s body relaxed, as if she had been terrified you’d burn the basket in front of her face. It’s only then that you realized why she was there. “You and Jonathan finally seal the deal?”

Nancy blushed, still unused to how well you perceive others. “We did.”

“Took you guys long enough!” You squealed and threw your arms around her, elated for your friends. Sure, it still stung a bit, but Nancy was trying, so you were too. “But can I say just one thing, and then we’ll bury the hatchet for good?”

“Of course, Y/N.” Nancy said, though you felt her body tense underneath your hold. She had been bracing for impact, and it broke your heart to imagine how she was feeling in that moment. 

You grabbed her hand and looked her in the eye. “I’m happy for you two, I really am, okay? You know my history with Jonathan, and I’m sure he’s told you everything, but I need you to listen very carefully to what I’m about to say.”

“I’m listening,” she whispered, gripping your hand tightly. 

“If anything, and I mean anything, bothers you about my relationship with him, I need you to tell me. Don’t let anything simmer, don’t swallow down any hurt. I need you to know that I will always respect your guys’ relationship, and if you ever feel that I don’t, please tell me.”

Nancy, to your surprise, had laughed. “That’s it? Geesh, Y/N. I was expecting you to threaten me with your knives or something. I understand your connection with Jonathan, I know what I agreed to.” She paused, and then added with a sly smirk, “Besides, I know you wouldn’t cross any boundaries because you’ve spent practically all year pining after Steve.”

“I did not!” You gaped at her, shocked that she would say such a thing, and Nancy laughed so hard that it took both you and her another ten minutes to say anything else. It was lovely, laughing alongside the girl you once held so much resentment over. Now there you were, rib cage aching with glee.

And that’s how Nancy Wheeler became your best friend.  

After that, things seemed to settle down during the month that followed the events of Hawkin’s Lab. 

While you healed your wounds at home, Jonathan and Nancy came to visit you whenever they could. It was weird, at first, being in the same room as them now that they were together, but within minutes the three of you formed your own dynamic. You and Nancy teased Jonathan while he simply shook his head at the two of you and did whatever you asked. 

It was a good dynamic, really. 

A week into house arrest, your mom let you finally return to work.

Of course, on your first day back, Steve was standing inside of Bookstrordinary, waiting for you. 

Seeing him there, hair messy and smile warm, felt like coming home. 

“Back so soon?” You had teased, walking slowly up to him. 

His smile widened and he grabbed your hand and tugged you closer, impatient with how long it was taking you to come to him. “Like I could wait any longer.”

“I stack and you sort?”

“Let’s get to work, Henderson.” He winked and spun you around, causing you to giggle, a sound he’d come to adore, and the two of you set off to work. 

Steve becomes a regular at Bookstrorindary again, and one day you come home from school to find him sitting at your kitchen table with Dustin and your mom. They were eating an after school snack together, chatting as if they were old friends. Your mom was even blushing as Steve charmed her. It was a disorienting sight, to say the least. 

“Is this going to be a thing now?” You’d asked, setting your backpack down to grab your own snack and join. 

“I invited him.” Dustin said with a mouth full of apples. “He’s cool, and mom likes him, so. Yeah.”

Your mom pinched Steve’s cheek and giggled. “He’s just so charming!”

Steve sent you a wink, basking in your mother’s praise, and in that moment, seeing him with the two people you loved most in this world, you knew.

It hit you like a warm, soft summer breeze. It swirled around you, kissed your skin the way only the sun can do, and you could almost smell the fresh summer honey that your dad used to buy for your birthday. The feeling was serene, it felt as easy as exhaling.

You were in love with Steve Harrington. 

Only this time, the realization made you smile; you accepted it with open arms. You walked over to him and ruffled his hair before sitting next to him at the table. Biting your own apple, you winked at your mom, agreeing with what she had said. “He is indeed very charming.”

Dustin gagged while Steve draped an arm across your chair and stole your apple. “That I am, Y/N.”

Maybe love wasn’t so bad after all.

The following week, both Steve and Nancy asked you to attend Barb’s funeral, and of course you went. 

It was a small service, and Jonathan held Nancy’s hand throughout all of it. While it hurt to see her cry, you can’t help but think about how incredible Nancy is. She’s the reason that Barb is even getting a funeral in the first place, having brilliantly exposed Hawkin’s Lab and giving her friend the justice she deserves. 

Steve stood next to you, stoic and guilty, and after the service ended you had to pull him aside and remind him that none of it had been his fault. He listened, but you know he hadn’t necessarily heard you.

It’s similar to how you feel with Will, and how Jonathan feels with you, and Nancy with Barb. 

You all hold a heavy weight within you, of guilt and shame and despair. There’s nothing that specifically can be done to lessen it. All you can do is allow the ones you love to carry the weight with you, to share it and accept the help that they offer. 

Time can’t heal all wounds, you recognize this now, so you do things for those you love and see the good that’s still there, even if it’s hard sometimes. 

And that’s what you do.

You start stopping by Hopper’s cabin to see El.

He hated it at first, but when you showed up one day with a box of nail polish and comics, El had been so overjoyed that he simply sighed and let you in. 

You teach the girl how to read, having her say words out loud as you paint her nails, and it’s lovely. It’s rare to get the girl all to yourself, so spending time with her is always the favorite part of your day. Plus, she starts to get really into Spider-Man, so you’ve done your job as an avid fan. 

As for Will and the boys, you start to make it a point to partake in their DnD campaigns whenever possible. While it’s hard balancing work, school, El, and the party, you don’t regret it for a single second. It’s exhausting, but a good kind of exhaustion. One that leaves your bones aching in a rewarding way at the end of the day.

You’ll never tell Jonathan this, but he had been right a few months ago. You’d been burning yourself out, running away from everything you didn’t want to confront, from your feelings to your crippling worry for the kids. You’re not sure how much you had left in you, looking back now.

You had been drowning for a long, long time. 

But as you pick up Dustin and Will from Mike’s, Jonathan by your side as always, your nails painted a messy shade of blue thanks to El, and Steve waiting for you back at your house, you’re finally able to breathe. 

– 

It somehow takes you the entire day to get Dustin ready for the Snowball. 

He’s running around the house, frantically trying to find his bowtie that he’s misplaced, and you’re currently digging through the endless supply of hairspray that Steve dropped off yesterday. There’s so much hair products within the bag that he delivered, and it actually scares you a little. 

No way this much chemicals can be good for a kid. 

“Did you find the bowtie?” You yell from the bathroom, finally managing to open the bottle of hairspray that Steve specifically told you to use first. 

“Yes!” Dustin runs back into the bathroom and throws the piece of fabric at you. “Quick, put it on while I spray my hair!” 

You roll your eyes at him but do as he asks, securing his bowtie to his baby blue button shirt. However, as he sprays his hair, he almost blinds you in the process. “Christ, Dustin! That’s practically a weapon.”

He continues to spray. “You’re the one who insisted on helping me get ready.”

“I wanted you to look handsome,” you coo at him, straightening his bowtie one final time before stepping back and admiring your handiwork. “All done, and look at you!”

Dustin sprays even more product into his hair and tries to shove you out of the bathroom, but he secretly preens. “Am I really handsome?”

You admire him and you can’t believe how grown up he is now. He’s grown another three inches since last month and with the way he’s styled his hair, he looks like a teenager. Your heart stings a bit, seeing him no longer look like the little brother you know and love. He’s changing, growing up. “The handsomest.”

He smiles at you. “Thanks, Y/N. Now go get dressed while I finish my hair. Steve will be here any minute!”

You salute him and run to your room. Nancy had asked you to chaperon alongside her at the dance, and you figured it’d be fun watching Dustin and the party failing miserably with prepubescent girls, so you agreed. However, because it somehow took five hours helping your brother get ready, you run around your room in a hurry.

You’ve just finished applying some mascara when the doorbell rings, and your heart skips a beat.

“Y/N, Steve is here!” Your mother calls, a slight glee in her voice. She’s quickly come to adore the boy, something that Steve milks whenever he can. He’s incredibly proud of it, honestly. 

You run to the door and open it, Dustin is still spraying his hair to death in the bathroom. 

When Steve sees you, he forgets how to speak. You’re dressed in a soft white dress and you’ve pinned the front two pieces of your hair back. You’ve dotted your lips with a berry-red lipstick and your cheeks look more flushed than usual. 

You see the blush that immediately forms on Steve’s cheeks and you giggle, suddenly shy. It’s awkward, but a nice awkward between you two. “Hey.”

“H–hi.” His voice squeaks and he clears his throat. “I–I mean, hey. You, uh… You look. Wow. I mean, not wow, but also wow–”

“Dude,” Dustin now joins and looks disappointedly at Steve. “Get it together, man.”

He pats his chest and starts heading towards the car, and you can’t help but snort. “He’s so lovely, isn’t he?”

Steve holds out his arm for you to take, the momentary awkwardness now gone. “The Henderson charm is a fascinating thing.”

During the car ride, the closer Steve gets to the school, the more you see Dustin fidget in the back seat. He had been so excited earlier, but now you notice the doubt in his eyes and the way he keeps patting his hair, unsure. 

You tap Steve’s hand to get his attention. When he looks over, you motion towards the backseat and he realizes what you’re trying to tell him. He nods, and the two of you silently agree to give the kid a pep talk once you get to the school. 

“Alright, buddy. Here we are.” Steve parks the car and tries to give Dustin a reassuring smile, but your brother looks out the window and exhales nervously. “Remember, once you get in there…”

“Pretend like I don’t care.”

You interrupt. “Okay, no. I thought we abandoned that idea last month.”

“Technically you abandoned it, I didn’t.” Dustin responds, and Steve shrugs his shoulders at you. 

“Dustin, I really want you to be yourself, okay?” You turn to face the kid. “What did I tell you last month, huh?”

“That we Hendersons are charming people.” He grumbles. 

“Exactly, and I meant that. Use your charm, buddy.”

Dustin isn’t listening, instead he tries to look at himself in the rearview mirror to once again fix his hair. Steve sees this and stops him. “Hey, listen to your sister, alright? You look great, okay?”

“Such a handsome lad.”

Steve puts his hand up to stop you. “Okay, ignore her and listen to me. Now, you’re gonna go in there…”

Dustin nods. “Yeah.”

“Look like a million bucks.”

“Yeah!”

“And you’re gonna slay ‘em dead.”

“Like a lion.”

You cringe. “I’m not at all liking this language use in relation to women.”

Dustin purrs, just to spite you, but now Steve cringes and shakes his head, “Yeah, don’t do that, okay?”

“Okay.” Dustin deflates, but when Steve offers him his hand to shake, his face lights back up and he accepts it. 

Steve winks at the kid. “Good luck.”

“You got this!” You shout as Dustin exits the car. He gives you a thumbs up and starts to walk towards the school, leaving just you and Steve alone in the car. 

With Dustin gone, a tension creeps within the car. You look over at Steve and he catches your eye, and your stomach flutters. You can’t deny that there’s nothing there, and it’s… it’s nice, honestly. 

You don’t feel the same fear you did with Jonathan. You can look at Steve and admire his beauty and all you feel is warmth. His smile doesn’t hurt you, and the way he’s looking at you so unabashedly no longer scares you. 

“You look beautiful, Y/N.” Steve says, his voice honest and dripping with honey. 

You blush, and he wants to kiss the pretty red until it colors his own lips as well. “Thank you.”

There’s more you both want to say, but for now you simply enjoy each other’s presence. It’s too soon, you know this. He’s still in love with Nancy, and you don’t blame him. Instead, you bask in his gaze and he admires how lovely you are. How lovely you always are.

He feels it, too. He knows what you’re thinking, and for once he feels comfortable with where he is. You’re here, next to him, expecting nothing but what you know he’s ready to give you. 

You press a kiss to his cheek, and Steve’s heart aches. “Drive home safe, okay?”

As you pull away, he catches your arm and stops you. You look up, confused, and Steve’s gaze softens. He doesn’t know how else to say it, how else to ask you to stay. “Be patient with me, okay?”

You don’t have to ask what he means; you know. 

Whatever he needs, you’ll give it to him. You place a hand on his face and stroke his cheek, he leans against the touch and closes his eyes. This is the easiest promise you’ve ever made. “Take all the time you need, I’ll be here.”

The words cause Steve to sigh, you’re too good for him. You’re everything lovely and beautiful and kind, and Steve can’t believe how lucky he is to know you, to have you in his life the way no one else does. That you’ll wait for him, trusting him with your heart, and he can’t believe that you’re real.

“You’re an angel.” He breathes out, feeling everything constrict within his chest when you smile. 

“And you’re sweet honey.” You press one last kiss to Steve’s face and get out of the car. No other words are needed. 

Steve watches you as you leave, your kiss still burning his face, the same burning warmth he’s come to love about you. He watches as you walk up to Nancy inside the school and she hands you a drink, the two of you laughing. You both look so different standing side by side. 

A girl Steve loves and the girl he knows that in time he’ll come to love more than anything else. 

He’s already falling for you, he thinks he has been ever since he first saw you all those years ago when you were twelve and he was thirteen. He’s falling for you, but he won’t rush it. It wouldn’t be fair to you, not after everything you’ve been through. 

So Steve admires you, he watches the way your hair dances as you laugh and the way the kids around you smile in admiration. He forgets that Nancy is even there, his eyes only on you, and for the first time in a long time, Steve smiles a real smile. 

Your kiss on his cheek lingers, and he presses his fingers to it and feels his body warm. You’ll be waiting for him, and that’s more than enough for now.

Take your time, I’ll be here.

And Steve believes you.

[END OF SEASON 2]

-

⌑ series masterlist

⌑ if you would like to be added/removed from my taglist, just let me know :)

⌑  taglist: @siriuslysmoking @sheisjoeschateau @thytorturedpoet @innercreationflower @juhdoche @frostandflamesfanfic @goosy-goose @quinnsadilla @munsons-queen @stefansring @rice-elephant @bex22109 @bitchkeery @bex22109 @officerrrfriendly @kazunish @idkitsem @emilieluckwood @ryoujoking @criesinlies @tagakalat @dcnerd98 @sucker-4-angst @kitdjarin1 @onecojg @innazra @areiofhope @spaghetittied @cultish-corner @g8sstuff @videogamesandpoorlifechoices @hsllfirescoops @l0ve-0f-my-life @newyorkangelbaby @aliceespector @chervbs @poppet055 @bookkeeperlove @bellenotthebeast @swiftieblyth @​ladyobscurus @moon-flowerss @estaticheart

[indulgentdaydream]

i LIVE for the nurse!reader work!!! i was wondering if you could do more nurse!reader where jason gets badly injured during patrol and she has to like stitch him up

OR

one where shes training as a family doctor and jason walks in on her comforting a little kid while she gives him an injection/shot?

either one is fine!

btw...YOUR WRITING IS SO COMFORTING

omg thank you!! I'm so happy my writing brings comfort to people. I usually use writing as a way to bring comfort to myself 😂

This can be read as both a stand alone and a sequel to Meet Cutes, my original Nurse!Reader work! It's not necessary to read Meet Cutes to read this

Comfort

Jason Todd x Nurse!Reader || Fluff Word Count: 2,014 Warnings: Blood, stitches, concussion, brief nod to Jason’s death by the mentioned date (April 27th)

2/6 fic of the line up! there was no way in hell i was getting them all out by his birthday I have no idea what I was on when I said that (pain killers. it was pain killers) (prescribed pain killers)

It was an unbearably hot night in Gotham. One that had Jason shucking his thick leather jacket off and fisting it in his hand as he stumbled through the alleyways.

Stupid Killer Croc. Stupid sewers. Stupid heat for making the sewers smell even worse. Stupid him for letting that oversized lizard get the jump on him.

Jason enters the clinic through the back door, as per usual. He didn’t need you getting caught up in vigilante problems just because people had seen him coming and going from this place.

The bright lights of the clinic have him flinching, his head pounding inside his helmet casing. He closes the door behind him by leaning against it. He hisses, pressing the fabric of his jacket to the bloody gash on his left shoulder blade. His armour had cracked off in a jagged line, leaving the flesh exposed. Killer Croc had used it as a nice place to sink one of his claws in when he picked Jason up off the disgusting sewer floor. It wasn’t bad. Fairly deep, but, as he usually told you, he’s had worse.

Usually, with injuries as simple as this, Jason would go to his nearest safe house and tend to it all himself. But, with this particular wound, he couldn’t reach around without his shoulder screaming in pain, nor without potentially giving himself the shittiest stitches known to man.

Best he could do for now is clamp his jacket to it with his right hand. Second best thing he could do was trip and stumble his way through Gotham, making wrong turns and headed in five different directions before he had picked the right one.

His head was stuffed with cotton. Maybe sewage. He wanted his helmet off, too suffocating for him in the moment, but he didn’t have his domino mask on.

Jason knew you were always the last one working. You would come in a few hours later than your other coworkers, just so you could keep the clinic open just that much longer for the unwilling victims of Gotham's nightly activities.

He wasn’t a part of those victims. Jason was one of the willing ones.

All in all, he admired you for your effort. A small star in a smog filled night sky. Brighter than what people realized.

Jason stepped towards your office door. It was open giving him a solid directory. His steel toes felt heavy on his feet. That’s what he’s blaming for the fact that he tripped over his own feet, his head swimming.

Jason fell against the door frame. His left shoulder hit the edge, pulling a deep groan of pain from him. He bumped into the door, sending it flying into the wall. He finally regained his balance, still leaning his head on the frame.

He faintly registered your gasp of surprise.

“Hood!" you cried, jumping up from your office chair, stepping closer, "What happened? What's wrong?"

Jason hated the way he gravitated towards you. He leaned into your touch when you grabbed a hold of his arm to steady him, to move him closer into the room.

This is weakness. He thought briefly through the thick fog surrounding him. Relying on some nurse. He should've never let himself get close to you. You don't even know his name. Or what his face looks like. But having you run to his aid with such a worried expression on your face is far too close to have you.

"Lay down. On your stomach."

Jason blinked. Your voice brought him back to the present, his head still spinning. He was sitting on the cot, pushed up against the wall. His jacket was hanging off the back of your office chair, bloody. The shoulder of his shirt cut off by your scissors, revealing part of his chest and back, too.

He doesn't remember any of that. Maybe he is in worse shape than he thought.

"Hood. Lay your ass down."

Jason followed your orders, "You have such graceful bedside manner, Nurse."

You scoff, already slipping your gloves on and dissinfecting yourself, ready to work.

You applied the stinging disinfectant to Jason's skin, making him suck in a sharp breath. The noise sounded odd, yet still recognizable through his voice modulator, "More like Nurse Ratched."

You pout, confused, "Who?"

Jason sighs, feeling his cheeks burn a little, "Nevermind..."

Your silent for a while, continuously threading the needle through Jason's skin as you pull it together.

"So..." you drawl out. "You gonna tell me how this happened?"

Jason was silent for another moment, "Mmmm... would if I could focus right now, sweetheart."

You paused on the last stitch, "Hm?"

He shifted his head lightly, peering at you through the corner of his vision, "What?"

You let out a breathy laugh, "I'm guessing you hit your head, too?"

Jason let out another robotic hum, "Got thrown into a wall."

"Did you now?" You step back from him, finished your work.

Jason nodded, "Lizard."

Stifling another laugh you started to clean up your tools, "You got thrown into the wall by... by a lizard?"

Jason didn't move, his speech a little slurred, "Fuckin' overgrown murder lizard..."

“Murder Lizard?”

He briefly waved a hand in dismissal, “Whatever his name is.”

“…Killer Croc?”

“…yeah. Him.”

You tapped his gloved hand, "Can you sit up and answer some more questions for me, Hood?"

Jason groaned as he pushed himself back up, moving slow. Once he was up, his head began to pound all over again. He reached up, pressed the release button under his jaw. A small hissing sound of the releasing pressure sounded.

He saw you stiffen, your eyes a little wide in shock, "What are you doing?"

“'s fine. I trust ya," He lifted the red helmet off until you were able to see his whole face. He remembered that not even a domino mask was hiding his eyes in the moment "'sides. It's too tight f'r me right now."

Jason believed he was a sight to see. All scars, disheveled hair, the yellowing bruise along the right side of hjs jaw from a few weeks ago, his crooked teeth and his crooked nose. Your eyes were wide, taking him in. He couldn't tell if it was in fear, shock, or awe. He was so much better at reading people, usually.

“I know,” a small smirk tugged at his lips, the right side of it staying lower due to the pain of his bruise, “Much more of an ugly mug then you were expecting, eh sweetheart?"

He saw you narrow your eyes. You didn’t like that comment. He could tell. What did he say? Nothing but his own truth.

…did I just fucking call you ‘sweetheart’?

A beam of light entered his vision.

He cringed back, "Ugh!"

You held up your small flashlight, switching it between Jason's eyes, "When were you born?"

Jason blinked rapidly, rubbing at his eyes now that you had pulled away the light. “April 27th,” he paused, pinching the bridge of his nose. “No. Fuck. That’s not it.”

You opened your drawer again and put the flashlight away, “You have a concussion.”

"No shit," His head was pounding to the point he could hear it in his ears.

"I'll let you go on two conditions."

Jason kept his eyes on you. He enjoyed the sight of your face much better than that agonizing light.

“First. Promise to rest up,” you gave him a pointed look.

Jason shrugged. He’d try.

“Promise.”

He groaned, “Fine. I promise.”

You looked pleased with yourself. He tried to push away the want to put that look on your face all the time.

“Second. Call somebody you know and trust to drive you home.”

He looked away from you. There was no one he trusted with that info. His safe house or this clinic. Or you.

“Fine,” you rolled away in your chair and pulled out a pen and paper. “Go get changed into some civilian clothes and I’ll call you a taxi.”

“You’re not payin’ for that,” Jason said quickly. His head hung low as his head pounded to the beat of his heart.

“That’s fine,” you pulled a roll of gauze from your drawer and stepped closer to him. “Do you have any Alieve or Tylenol at home?”

He barked out a laugh that ricocheted through his skull, “With how much I’m in here? Who do you think I am?”

You gave him a deadpan look. You began wrapping his shoulder and his stitches.

He gave a small smirk. He liked looking at your face. A nice sight for his sore eyes.

He blinked again. You were very close to him. His heart picked up in time with the throbbing of his skull.

He looked away, scowling.

Weakness.

“If I give you anything, I have to write down who I’m giving it to. It’s policy, I’ll need a name. Do you have alieve or tylenol at home Red?”

Jason let out a hum. He leaned forward pinched his nose bridge in thought again. Everything was fuzzy, “Maybe?”

“What name am I writing then?”

He didn’t even think to hesitate. He registered how that was a bad thing, but his concussion was stopping him from thinking properly. “Jason Todd.”

You let out a laugh right next to his ear.

He flinched, wincing at the sound, “What?”

“That’s the fakest name I’ve ever heard.”

It took him a second to register what you meant. That was his name. You were one of the few he had actually introduced himself to as himself in a while, and you didn’t believe it was his name.

You finished wrapping his bandages and stepped away. He found himself missing the warmth. “Mhmm. What address are you gonna give me now? 1234 Main Street?”

He scowled a little more than he already was. He felt his ears burn, “567 Main Street North.” It was one of his safe houses he was getting rid of soon. A place no one would find him by the end of the week.

You laughed again. It grated on his ears, but he was sure it’d be music without this concussion.

The rest of his visit was a bit of a blur. You told him to go change into civilian clothes. He remembers telling you it was fine, that he didn’t mind having the Red Hood be seen taking a taxi. You reminded him his shirt was half torn off. He put his armour back on and zipped up his jacket over top. You were calling a taxi by the time he had gotten his helmet back on.

The entire time he was trying to guess what your laugh sounded like normally. Surely he’s heard it before? Why couldn’t he remember?

Right. The concussion.

Red Hood was stepping out the door of your office when you called after him.

“Stay safe.”

He let out a small laugh, looking back over his shoulder at you, “Never do, sweetheart.”

You laughed too and he felt his ears burn again. He needed to shut up and stop letting that slip.

“That’s the third time you’ve called me that.” You crossed your arms, leaning back in your chair. “You must really be out of it.”

Jason frowned behind his helmet. He doesn’t remember three times.

…okay maybe two. But not three.

You gave a knowing smile, ignoring it, “You just have to make sure I always have my work cut out for me, don’t you?”

Jason smiled behind the helmet, “I like seeing you.”

He wanted to bash his head against that brick wall again. Especially when your grin got a little wider and his face got a little hotter.

“‘Kay, bye.” He walked out before you could respond.

Jason never did wait for the taxi. He left through the back door like always and made his trek back to the closest safe house. He clutched the box of tylenol he had stuffed in his pocket, feeling the tug of his stitches when he found his bike and revved the engine before peeling away into the night.

[emeritus-fuckers]

The papas (plus sister because she needs more love) - A new ghoul gets summoned but they seem more shy and afraid, how would they react?

Papas and Sister Imperator with a shy, freshly summoned ghoul

Primo (he/him)

He knows what to do, he's seen it once before, but a long time ago.

Sometimes Ghouls just are really shy at first, and scared. Of course they are, the Ministry is a whole different world to them.

You ran straight off and hid. It took Primo a few hours searching to find you hiding in a secluded spot in the garden.

Primo left you there to get used to things and went back to his garden shed. He brewed a very special tea, he wasn't too fond of the smell but that's because it wasn't meant to appeal to him.

He went back to the your hiding place and left a cup just in reach. He smiled as you reached a clawed hand out to take it.

The next day Primo left the cup of tea so it was just out of your reach. You slowly came out to take it and caught sight of Primo.

He smiled and gestured to say it was just him, you looked back at the tea and then to Primo before settling down on the soft summer grass.

"Let me show you around?" Primo says with a kind smile. "I promise you, it will all be okay. And if it ever gets too much you can always come back here. I won't tell a soul that this is your spot and I will bring you tea whenever you need it."

You smiled and swished your tail. With Primo's steadying influence you started to slowly come out of your shell and bond with the other Ghouls.

Secondo (he/him)

You blink open your eyes as you lie on the cold stone and see the most terrifying Papa. His stern gaze and piercing stare had you running for the nearest shadow.

Secondo lets out a huffing sound and orders everyone from the room.

He sits down next to you and to your suprise his expression has softened. "I know its a big change."

You just kind of nod, still very confused by the man.

"And there is a lot to get used to. But there are a lot of exciting things here too and more importantly nice people..." Secondo seems to stop himself saying the rest of the sentence, which would have probably been 'as annoying as they all are'.

You wait for him to carry on and then he says "I will introduce you to my most trusted Ghoul and you will not shy away. In return I can promise you that they will take care of you and look after you, you have nothing to fear. Also, no one will expect you to introduce yourself or talk to them until you are ready to do so."

You nod, still scared but Secondo's gaze is so steady you just trust him, he is Papa after all, the one who summoned you.

Thankfully you settle in well and once you are more relaxed Secondo lets you see his party animal side. Which surpirses you all over again. Who knew he could be like that, eh?

Terzo (he/they)

They really count on Omega in situations like these.

While Terzo has a sort of magnetism that pulls people to him, especially when he flirts like a kindergartener (informing someone about a hole in his shoe, for example), but he also recognizes that a big, strong ghoul might help a new, shy one open up.

And Omega is very inviting unless he's pissed off. Which he never is, if Terzo's in the room. If Terzo's around, Omega is happy. It's a simple equation, really.

And Omega is also very welcoming. You end up feeling safe with their presence pretty soon.

You also end up getting adopted. it's not up for discussion.

Enjoy your new dads, I guess.

Copia (he/him)

Copia has summoned plenty of ghouls by now. He's got experience with the shy ones, too.

Although his previous originally shy ghoul (Phantom) had relatives in the Ministry already, so that was a bit easier.

This time, he's on his own with it.

He just chills in the room, leaving snacks nearby as he just sits in the corner of his room, playing something on an ancient-looking gameboy.

He's just there, not invading your space. It's a bit like with a new puppy.

Eventually, you get closer, stealing his snacks and slowly trying to look at the screen of his console.

And after that, it all goes easy. Yolu eventually get more and more comfortable with him.

You get really involved in the game, too. Copia's not allowed to finish it, watching him play is your comfort source.

Not that he minds, he fucking sucks at that game.

Old Nihil (he/him)

He is just confused, really confused why as to why you are hiding all the time. Normally when freshly summoned, Ghouls have far too much energy and want to see everything.

"Seeeestor, why is the Ghoul broken?" He asks her. She tuts and explains you are not broken just shy.

So Nihil decides to try and help.

He sits near where he knows you hide in the shadows and tells you stories of his youth.

Sometimes these stories are long and rambling and you fall asleep.

Other times they are really interesting and excitng and you find yourself coming out of the shadows to listen.

Nihil grins at you and offers to introduce you to some people he thinks you'll like.

Young Nihil (he/him)

He doesn't really think anything of it, all the Ghouls are odd and different in their own way. Which he loves, all so unique.

He'll just sit with you and offer you a drink or something stronger.

At first you think he is just doing this to help you settle in, but then you realise he has started to rely on you as much as you on him.

It's nice to hang out with him, very laid back and you two can just be yourselves. There is never any pressure to talk or anything.

When you feel a little more confident Nihil offers to teach you the saxophone. He's learning too and thought it would be fun to learn together.

He produces some, err, interesting noises from the instrument at first but he quickly gets better. Partly due to your support, you are the only person he feels comfortable enough to make mistakes in front of.

He also invites you along to parties or his shows or anythin really, but never puts pressure on you to come along. If you do agree he gives you the biggest smile and puts an arm around you showing you all the cool things. He'll keep an eye on you to make sure you don't get overwhelmed.

Old Sister Imperator (she/her)

As intimidating as she can be, she's also a very caring, motherly woman.

She will inform you where you are, who she is and why you're there.

All while calling you "little one", as if you're a child.

And while there's always this slightly unnerving feeling of authority she has over you, you actually like her! She's nice!

She leaves you snacks, small plushies and fidget toys so you can have some nice things that will comfort you in this new situation you've gotten yourself into.

She leaves one of her ghoulettes with you for comfort. She doesn't mind waiting. Take your time.

Young Sister Imperator (she/her)

A lot more intimidating and a lot less motherly than she is later in life, Sister Imperator wasn't the most patient in her youth.

She summoned a ghoul because she needed one now, not later.

Still, she's not cruel, she's not gonna just... abandon you. She can summon another ghoul for the matter at hand and then just... find some use for you.

She checks up on you regularly, just sitting in the room for a bit. it's almost like a break for her, honestly.

Over time, as you both become more and more comfortable with each other, she starts viewing you like a little pet.

She likes playing with your hair and tail. She's always incredibly gentle with you, too.

Perhaps she's already found your function. A companion. A little pet.

Doesn't sound so bad, does it?

~

Papas I, II and Papa Nihil written by Nyx.

Papas III, IV and Sister Imperator written by Nosferatu.

[givemea-dam-break]

a/n: part two for this request - "may i request a fem reader x anthony lockwood where reader is a super talented fittes agent who constantly trades barbs with lockwood but he soon realises she fancies him so he ends up teasing her during missions by doing small stuff like pulling her close and calling her babe when no one is around - since quite a few of you wanted one! if you want to find it on my masterlist, it's called Love, simply because I'm terrible at naming my fanfics lmao. i hope you enjoy!

warnings: mentions of death/suicide (very vague), language female reader taglist: @cassiopeiia24 @nessa-stark @galactidiot @randomfanficreader @tom-foolery-time

part 1

Loneliness. Terrible, suffocating loneliness. It's thick and cloying and it's getting harder to breathe. God, your throat is closing up and your lungs hurt, weighed down by this strong sense of isolation and abandonment. How are you meant to function when it's so powerful, so heartbreaking? It's overtaking your heart, filling your lungs, intoxicating your blood.

With a feeling like whiplash, you're torn from your vision, and your hand is tugged away from the tree branch and placed on someone's chest. You can feel someone's heartbeat, steady and reassuring, and your own slows. Breathing is a little easier now.

"You're okay, love. I'm here."

The voice shakes you out of your daze, and your eyes snap open, only to be met with the face of Anthony Lockwood.

The setting sun is working wonders on him. Gold and orange rays of light fight for dominance on those high cheekbones and the tip of his nose. His dark eyes swirl with hues of copper and caramel. His lips, turned down slightly with worry, hide the possibility of a bright smile as you look at him.

"Don't -"

"Call you that," he finishes. "Yes, I know. You realise that the more you tell me not to, the more I will."

You scowl at him, but you don't move. A month ago, you would've pulled out of his grip and away from him within a second but, now, you can't bring yourself to.

He knows this all too well, and he revels in it. More often now does he find some excuse to have you touch him. Oh, (name), pass me some salt bombs, won't you? Followed by a not-so-subtle brush of fingers. Do I have lavender in my hair? Get it out, please, the scent becomes too strong sometimes. And there's usually no way for you to get out of shaking it out of his hair because he often puts your hand there himself. Let me walk you home. Then he'll drape an arm over your shoulders, keeping you close or safe as he calls it.

Maybe you've bolstered this attitude of his because more often than not, you don't object. Yes, you'll call him an idiot or a twat or something more insulting, but you've come to welcome these touches, however fleeting they may or may not be.

So, now, with your fingers splayed over his white shirt, it's almost as if you can't bring yourself to move. It doesn't seem like Lockwood is particularly fussed about moving, either.

"What did you see?" he asks, eyeing you carefully. "Something seemed different."

Despite your team's displeasure about paired up so frequently with Lockwood and Co for certain cases by DEPRAC, you haven't been too bothered by it. You and Lockwood have begun working like a team, figuring out each other's tells and habits while still throwing insults and remarks back and forwards. He's become used to watching you use Touch to figure out where sources are, learning how your body reacts in accordance to different things.

You don't want to tell him that this particular vision fed into your own feelings, so instead you say, "It was just stronger than usual. We're close. Very close."

At last, his hand releases yours, and he places his hands on his hips, staring up at the towering tree before you. Members from both of your teams linger around the whole park, scouting out for any clues as to where the source is, seemingly with no luck. The reason for that is likely the pairings. Lucy and Kat and Ned, George and Bobby and Kipps. None of them are getting on particularly well.

"You think it's the branch itself?"

"I'm not sure." You flash your torchlight on the thick branch. "This guy, well, you know... His body was found here after days of just..."

"Hanging there."

"Thank you for that input. But yes. It would make sense. The rope had to be cut off because it was tied so tight. And the emotions were extremely strong, so it would be my best bet."

"Well, whatever you say, love."

You purse your lips. "You're insufferable."

"You love that about me."

Fighting down the urge to strangle him, you pull your silver net out of your belt. "I say we place the net over the branch, see if the ghost still appears. If it does, well, we're fucked, to put it simply. I'll be completely clueless. But, if it doesn't, then we can secure it in place overnight and get someone to remove the branch in the morning."

"Aye, aye, captain."

"Shut up."

Lockwood grins at you then, so bright and dazzling that for a moment you're frozen.

Maybe it affects you the way it does because it's something you've lacked for years. You can't remember the last time someone smiled at you with such joy before Lockwood, as if you've done something to deserve it.

Gently, he takes the silver net from your hands and swings out over the branch before stepping back and looking at it like he's just finished some incredible piece of art. You roll your eyes, glancing back at your teams again.

"I think Barnes pairs us up on purpose," you say. "He knows we don't all get on."

"We get on tremendously," Lockwood remarks. "We went from you insulting my clothes and face, and me making fun of your moods, to being the best of friends."

Frowning, you say, "I wouldn't say 'the best of friends'. I tolerate you, Lockwood. And your face and fashion haven't improved over this last month, I hope you know. I mean, come on, grey tie and pink socks? It's like you're taking inspiration from some raw salmon. Do I have to buy you some socks for your Christmas?"

He nudges your shoulder with his. "You hear yourself? You're on about getting me a Christmas present!"

His fingers brush yours then, and you almost jump from the contact. His hand is warm against the back of yours, and your fingers twitch slightly with the urge to entwine with his, even if part of you is telling you not to do it.

With a jolt, you step away. "Let's wait for this ghost. I'll let the others know about the plan."

There's something in his eyes, an unfamiliar spark within their darkness, that sends heat to your cheeks and a flutter in your stomach. But you turn away, adamant that you won't fall for his charm or whatever this is. You won't. Maybe.

--

"Oh, I've been looking for that!"

You turn as you throw a bag of pasta into your shopping basket, stopping short when you see Lockwood standing on the opposite side of the aisle. He's dressed in his usual shirt-trousers-ridiculously-long-jacket get-up, grinning with a basket hooked over his arm. For a minute, you're confused about what he means, and then you realise which hoodie you're wearing. His grey one.

In your defence, you thought you had picked up your grey Fittes one and had been a little confused by the length of it on you, but now you realise that it is not yours at all but the one he gave you a month ago. The one you keep forgetting to give him.

"Oh, yes. Um, I'll get it back to you soon."

He laughs and says, "You've told me that for weeks now. You might as well keep it now, love."

You glance down at the hoodie, fingers fiddling with the old hem. "I'll get it back to you."

"Whatever you say."

His smile is blinding, and you find yourself smiling, too. It's only a little tug at the corner of your lips, but you can see the happiness in his eyes at the sight of it. It makes something in your chest feel warm and proud and loved.

Loved. The word sends sparks down your spine. When was the last time you felt like that?

"Well, I have to get going," Lockwood says, gesturing to his basket. "George is getting tetchy and we have almost no food left in the house. I'm worried I'll get home and the house will have been destroyed in his rage."

You snort. "Kipps is the same at the Fittes offices. I try and steer clear of him when he's in a mood. He's worse than me."

"Worse than you? Sorry, love, but that's hard to believe."

"Oh, be quiet." You give him a look, and humour glints in his eyes. "I was going to offer to give you warnings of when he's particularly irritated, but I won't, now. You can just suffer."

"You have to admit," he says, "that Kipps is awfully funny when he's mad. He goes red as a tomato."

"He does."

Lockwood's smile softens to something more private, and your heart skips a beat. You want to curse at yourself. It's been a month of spending more cases together, of him walking you home late at night or catching you unawares, and already you feel differently about him. Once, you saw him as nothing more but an arrogant boy whom you couldn't stand, whose very presence had you on edge. Although you enjoyed taking the mick out of him and riling him up, you wanted to keep your interactions to a minimum.

But now?

God, you're not sure what changed. Maybe it's the way he smiles at you like he's proud of you for everything you've done and gone through, and so endlessly happy with you for simply existing. Maybe it's the gentle touches of reassurance and how he has somehow come to know your tells of nervousness or apprehension. Maybe it's how he's come to know you so well, well enough to slip little snacks you like into your kitbag for you to find on later cases when it's just you and your Fittes team.

Even now, you can spot your favourite biscuits in his basket - biscuits you're aware nobody in his house likes.

"I'll see you around," Lockwood says with his enchanting smile.

It brings out a slightly bigger smile from you. "See you, Lockwood."

As he brushes past you, his fingers twitch as if to latch onto yours, and he says, "Call me Anthony from now on, love."

"All right," you murmur. "Anthony."

--

"I'm going to kill you one day."

Lockwood breathes a laugh, peering around the corner of the street. "Who would provide you such amazing entertainment if not for me?"

You draw your rapier. "Anyone. Quite literally anyone. You know, there's this thing called salt, and Kat puts it in Bobby's coffee when he's not looking sometimes. However, now is really not the time for that. Are those Rawbones still looking for us?"

"No."

"Oh, good."

"Well, not really. They've found us."

A horrible wail pierces your ears, one that Lockwood can't hear, and you flinch, glancing past him and to the ghosts that are leering at you. Rawbones, terrible variations of Wraiths, with no skin and bulging eyes. The sound of their teeth grinding sets the hairs on your arms on end., and the glare you send his way is scathing.

"I told you we should've just left!"

"Nonsense." Lockwood's rapier is moving fluidly in front of him, keeping the Visitors at bay. "You're the best agent I know besides myself. We can handle these."

Scowling, you throw a salt bomb at each of the two Rawbones. "Just because we can, doesn't mean we should. We've no way of finding a source!"

"Hey, think about it. If these guys kill us, then at least you won't have had to get your hands dirty killing me. Either way, we can dispatch them easily."

You glower at him and throw another salt bomb, watching the flakes disintegrate parts of the other-light and speckle the ground. "Who would even want to haunt a street with a greasy chippy and stinking public toilets?"

He grins as he looks back at you. "Maybe they were particularly fond of the chippy. Can't beat fish and chips on a Friday night. Are you a mushy peas or gravy kind of girl?"

"At the moment, neither!"

One of the Rawbones takes its chance with his peas-or-gravy distraction and launches towards Lockwood, but it never gets the chance. With all your force, you shove him out of the way, and you both slam into the wall. A harsh chill overtakes you, and you're dimly aware of a tingling pain in your arm, but you ignore it, throwing another salt bomb.

Lockwood takes up holding them back with his rapier, and it's then that you notice your jumper's sleeve steaming, a section of it burned away by ectoplasm. You hadn't been expecting to be out so late and for so long, so you didn't think to bring your thick jacket with you. Regretting your decision, you stare as the skin of your arm starts turning blue.

"Anthony?"

"Mm?" He doesn't look away from the ghosts.

"We - we have an issue."

"Do we? I think we're handling this quite well. My shoulder hurts from slamming into a brick wall, but -"

"Anthony!"

He glances back at you, his eyes immediately drawn to your burned and smoking sleeve, and the blue, swelling skin beneath. He pales momentarily, gritting his teeth, and something overtakes his expression. Anger. But not at you.

"Cover your ears and get back behind that bin over there."

"You can't be serious. It's surrounded by mouldy bananas and -"

"Go!"

The urgency in his voice has you moving before you even realise it. Ducked behind the big bin a few feet away, you peer around it and try to block out the horrible smell. Lockwood is still holding off the pair of Rawbones, but he's holding something in his free hand. It's only when he's running over to you to take cover that it was a magnesium flare.

An explosion shakes the ground, and although you had covered your ears, they still ring loudly. You can't hear what Lockwood is saying, but he drags you away by your good arm and down the street in the opposite direction from the ghosts. They're not gone permanently, but the flare has given you enough time to make your escape.

It's only when you're a few streets away that you both stop to catch your breaths beside an old phone box. You're struggling, feeling as though you're trying to breathe through a single straw, and your skin feels weird. Overly aware of the inner workings beneath it.

"Anthony," you repeat, but your voice isn't as strong.

Your legs are shaking, and you can't feel your arm anymore. You can faintly hear him speaking in the phone box, asking for an ambulance, and then he's in front of you, catching you as you stumble against a shop wall and to your knees. He tears the sleeve off your jumper, preventing any more ectoplasm from getting on your arm. Not that it would make a difference. It's already getting worse.

"You'll be all right, love," he promises, holding you close to his chest as you shiver. "An ambulance is coming. They'll be here soon."

You don't have the energy to speak, but you manage a small nod.

"They'll give you an adrenaline shot, and you'll be fine. You can get right back to insulting me."

His shirt is warm beneath your hand as you grip it weakly. It's a strange sensation feeling your organs slowly stop working. Already, your pulse sounds weaker in your ears.

"Hey, stay with me."

Your eyes find his and, for a moment, everything's all right. They're warm and soft and so, so comforting, and he's giving you that private smile he's taken to sharing with you. His cheeks are rosy, and salt is dusted in his hair like snow. Your lips tug in a meagre attempt at a smile.

"You're an asshat," you manage. "We should've gone the way I said."

He breathes a laugh. "Yeah, we should've."

His hand brushes hair from your eyes, lingering on your cheek for a moment, and you lean into the touch, relishing in the feeling of his pulse against your skin. If you don't think too hard, you can pretend it's yours and that your organs aren't on shutdown.

"Hey, look," Lockwood says gently. "See the lights, love? Ambulance is here to help you. You'll get that adrenaline and you'll be fine."

And you know you will be. His voice is so genuine that you know he's not just saying it to ease your mind. You've seen agents and civilians with ghost-touch, seen their skin turn blue and swell and their lives slowly drain away when the ambulances took too long to reach them. But you'll be okay. As long as Lockwood stays with you.

--

Giving Anthony Lockwood your address was the best idea you've ever had.

He knows where you hide your spare key outside of your flat, so he lets himself in as you lounge on your sofa, watching the news on your old TV. For now, you're out of action, your arm still taking time to recover from ghost-touch, though you're all right in most other senses.

Your arm aches still and has taken to staying a faint shade of blue, and sometimes you have the unshakeable fear that you've not been cured of the ghost-touch, but you always come out of it fine.

The one benefit of being on sick leave is that Lockwood stops by every single day without fail with a coffee from your favourite café, along with a fresh packet of your favourite biscuits and a newspaper. You're not big on reading the newspapers, but you figure he brings them simply because his face is appearing in them more and more, and he wants to show off.

"Oh, you're an angel," you murmur as you take the coffee from his hands, taking a long sip of it and sighing contentedly.

He beams at you, scattering the biscuits onto a plate. He does that so you can gradually eat them over the day without having to struggle to pick them out of the packet, but you're sure he knows that you scoff them all the minute he leaves. As soon as you're back out of your flat and working, you're going to have to get back to your morning runs. Maybe the runs can be you running to the shop to buy more...

"I think that's the nicest thing you've ever said to me," he says, bringing the plate over and setting it on your coffee table. "I'll pretend you've said it because you adore me so and not because I've turned into your slave."

You smile sweetly over the lid of your cup. "You don't have to get me stuff. I've told you this. It's your fault for being a stubborn ass."

He laughs, sitting at the end of the sofa, just beside where your feet are curled up. "And there's the name-calling. Glad to know you're getting better, love. Besides, if I can make life a little easier for you, I may as well. Now you owe me."

"So it's not out of the kindness of your heart, then?" You roll your eyes, taking another sip of coffee. "And I thought we were friends."

Raising an eyebrow, he says, "Just friends?"

For a second, something in your chest constricts and you can't look at him. "I mean, if you really want to say best friends, you can go for it, but I'm not really in the business of -"

"Just shut up and admit you like me already, love. It's agonising watching this play out."

You freeze, mouth slightly opened and eyes wide. Lockwood looks at you with a smug expression, eyes glittering with something - mischief, glee. Swallowing the lump in your throat and closing your mouth, you look away from those dark eyes of his.

Growing up how you did, it's always been hard for you to discern your feelings beyond irritation and anger. The more time you spent with Lockwood, the more things you felt and the more confusing everything became. Finally, you had a friend, someone you could laugh with and explore a part of you that you've never been permitted to. You've found out that you like things you never thought you would, like walking home in the dark, pulled close to someone's side. Shopping with the hopes of seeing the people you know and care for. Reading. Feeling someone's arms around you. Being smiled at in a way that makes you feel warm and mushy inside.

Lockwood has been the one to start the change, to awaken these feelings inside of you. Before him, you were lonely. Horribly so, and your anger was a way for you to mask that. But ever since your time spent together, one particular feeling has always stood out, and you've never been able to understand it.

Love.

You're not really sure what love is, but you know you feel it when he's around. When he grins at you in that special way of his, or when he plays with your fingers on long walks home, trying to figure out what each line and crease means as if he's a palm reader. When he keeps you close to his side and steps in front of you, shielding you from ghosts even though you're more than capable of taking care of yourself.

Love might be the feeling of happiness in your chest when you look at him. It might be the flutter you get in your tummy when his name is spoken, or his skin touches yours.

"I..." You struggle with the words.

But he understands. You know with the way the corners of his lips twitch and his nose crinkles that he understands. You've never been good at communicating verbally, something he's begun to learn.

"I've known for a while," he says. "I'm irresistible, after all."

The humour helps ease the whirlwind in your mind. "You're insufferable."

He leans over, his fingers brushing yours before latching on. You've had this exact conversation before. "You love me for it."

You do. You really do.

So you don't move away when his face nears yours, watching as he slowly comes closer, closer, closer. His eyes are so bright, speckled with so many shades of bronze and copper and gold, and so happy.

No, you do move. You lean forward, and all of a sudden your lips are on his and his hands are pulling your face impossibly closer and you're clutching onto him with your good hand. And you're spiralling, down and down into this feeling people call love, falling onto it like a soft bed you've never had the privilege to sleep in before. There's an ever-so-faint taste of bitter tea on his lips, which are so soft it shouldn't be real.

But it is. It's so, so real, and you're kissing him. He's kissing you. The world melts away. You feel like you're exploding in bursts of colour and flowers and stars until you're nothing more than the air that surrounds you.

And when he pulls away, you smile wider than you ever have before.

[railroad-migraine]

hello lovely! you’re my favorite bells hells writer, you just hit the nail on the head with every post and i’m so excited everytime i get the notif that you posted

if your requests are still open and you have the time/want to, could you do a bells hells x reader with the prompt “please just hold me?”, like maybe reader had a nightmare or something and asks the party to hold them? please and thank you !!!!

Hello darling! Your words made me all warm and fuzzy, I'm honoured to be a favourite something hehehe. I did a similar post here for when the reader is afraid of the dark, if you're interested :)

~ Poet

"Please Just... Hold Me?"

-> S/O has a nightmare

Ashton 💙

Fuck- Shit- I mean, sure. Sure. C'mere. I'll keep you close.

Even though you're the one seeking comfort, Ashton initially freaks out a little bit themselves. They're not used to the vulnerability that comes with bad dreams, especially when it's being shared with someone he cares about.

Before you give him the go-ahead, his hands are hovering in mid air, clueless on whether or not it's okay to touch you.

They're not the best at words in situations like this, so they let their body do the talking for them. Toned arms pull you into their lap, one hand gently running up and down your back as you calm down.

His crystalised skull glints and catches the miniscule light in your shared room. A little rainbow makes a wobbly appearance on the headboard. Their body is strong and grounding beneath you.

-

Chetney 💙

Give me time and I'll figure out a way to punch nightmares. It's not impossible if it's for you. I'd do anything for you.

He's got his mind set on that end goal, and Chet doesn't give up easily. But it can wait for another day. A day where you're not trembling beside him.

Because of how smol he is, it's less him holding you and more him being scooped up into your lap with his arms around your neck. Your nose is pressed into his shoulder as he mutters soft words into your ear.

He makes teary attempts at making you laugh, something to distract you both from the water pooling in the corners of your eyes.

He keeps an eye on you in the morning, a subtle way of checking in. He doesn't bring it up in conversation - the man respects your privacy too much.

-

Dorian 💙

Do you even need to ask? Of course I'll hold you. You're safe with me. I won't let anything happen to you. They can't touch you now.

He feels a little helpless in the moment, his very being flooded with cautious alarm when you reach out for him blindly in the dark. He's not the strongest, nor the bravest, but he'll be your rock and help you through this as best he can.

Pretty words are what he lives on though, and he knows just what to say to make everything feel a little bit better. Sweet nothings and intimate musings drip from the lips that rest on the crown of your head.

His fingers sweep in soothing circles across your skin, and you cling to his silk shirt and silky hair as he guides your fluttering heartbeat to steady to a more restful rhythm.

Sings you lullabies of crisp apples in spring and warm sunshine that kisses the face of a dear lover. Those nightmares are easily kept at bay while you lay beside him.

-

Fearne 💙

Oh dear. It's just not fair, is it? Don't worry, baby, I got you. Ol' Fearnie's here now.

She's so naturally tender with you. In the daytime, Fearne teases relentlessly, pokes and prods and says sweet flirty things that make you want to curl up into a tight little ball and burn from embarrassment.

But here, she smooths back sweat soaked wispy hairs away from your forehead, presses her lips to your forehead and hushes your unnecessary apologies.

A light floral scent envelopes your entire being like a blanket while she encases you in her arms, her downy fur there feather soft and cosy.

Little Mister lifts his head from the foot of the bed and scampers up to hold your free hand, coos quiet. The other stays placed on top of Fearne's sleep dress, right over her heart. The heart that beats for you.

-

Imogen 💙

I know what it's like, love. Trust me, I do. I'm not going anywhere. Whatever you need, big or small, it's yours.

Of all the party members, you know that Imogen is the most familiar with nightmares. You've spent many sleepless nights sitting with her, smoothing back her hair and holding a cup of water to her lips as she calms down from vivid visions with vague meanings.

The storm can be so vast and crimson at times, unbearable even. It terrifies her, makes her anxious when it's bedtime. Even if she tries to hide it, you can tell.

But when you're distressed and whimpering under the covers beside her, she pushes those thoughts away and tries to be a bit braver. Braver for you. It's the least she can offer.

She cradles you into her side like you're some glass object that could shatter, her words and thoughts soothing you until sleep or daylight finds you both.

-

Laudna 💙

Those bad dreams have some nerve poking around in your head. They wouldn't dare if they knew what I could do. Lay back, precious thing.

Like Chetney, Laudna makes the nightmares out to be a personal enemy. They're cruel and unworthy of someone so good such as yourself. Just out of reach so that she can't protect you from them.

If she could, she would show them how scary-scary she can actually truly be.

But until she has the power to physically strangle the embodiment of your bad dreams, she fluffs your pillow and helps you lean back onto the mattress. She's humming something quietly, a lullaby of some sort, her fingers gingerly stroking your face once she's cuddled into you.

She asks if you want to talk about what you dreamt, and respects however you answer. Works you through what you remember and curls her fingers around your own as you speak.

-

Orym 💙

Hey, hey. Look at me. Hey. Hi. It's me. You're alright, okay? I'm right here. We're alright. Just focus on me.

He lights a candle quicky, and you now are able to see the concern on his face that the shadows previously hid from you. There's a sadness in his eyes, but it's overpowered by the protectiveness in his actions.

He perches at your side, cupping your face while his thumbs gently wipe away crusty sleep from your eyes, soft smile brighter than the flame on the nightstand.

A sprig of lavender grows effortlessly from his palm and he tucks it in between your pillows to help you sleep better when you feel ready to.

Orym has had his fair share of nightmares, and helps you through it like he approaches everything - with practiced carefulness and kindness that is so good in nature that the bad dreams dare not linger.

[zeestarfishalien]

Part 10: I Want My Mouth So I May Howl

First | Previous | Next

He was wary of the magic lady at first. “A ghost’s reaction to magic users is something like instinct,” the words echo in his mind in a voice not his own. It should be familiar, the tones are warm, but he still doesn’t remember.

This magic user is nice. She’s addressing him, calling him by the nickname The Man gave him, and most importantly of all, The Man trusts her. There’s no increase in his wariness at her approach and casual touch.

If The Man trusts her, Danny will too.

~*~

Time spent by The Man, no it’s Jason. His name is Jason.

Time spent by Jason’s side is slowly bringing a more humanoid awareness back into Danny’s mind. He eats when Jason eats, exercises when Jason exercises, he washes right before Jason (it’s more that Jason gives him a bath since he doesn’t exactly have opposable thumbs). Danny even tries to emulate sleep when Jason sleeps. It’s a slowly established routine that has Danny remember what it is to live.

Standing on the table, staring down at himself feels disorienting now. The haze of instinct protecting his mind from the pain of memories is lifting and more and more he desires, craves his human form. He wants to wake up from this waking daydream because it’s starting to feel more like a nightmare.

~*~

Voices come to the forefront of his mind now. They aren’t him, but they’re familiar, people he knows, people he loves. He knows this even while he cannot place faces or names to the voices drifting in and out of his semi-wakeful mind.

The first clear memories come when he releases his astral form for the night. It’s his version of sleep. Jason goes to bed and Danny retreats into his own comatose body.

As he sinks into the depths of his subconscious this night, his mind decides the first memory it should pull forth is that of his death. It is not a memory he enjoys reliving; the hot zing of nerves being fried with enough volts and amps to kill an elephant. The ectoplasm acts like a superconductor and the electricity and his death bind that to his body and soul. He’s so hot. He’s burning alive. He’s dying. He’s living. He’s dying again. Neither option sticks and after some form of infinity, the portal spits out his smoldering corpse.

When he wakes, even the sound of electricity in the walls sets him on edge. The buzzing hum feels louder the longer he thinks about it and he dives back into his own body, into that special void in his mind where he’s safe from the sounds around him.

Once Jason is up, nearly an hour passes before he’s able to coax Danny out of hiding.

With Jason, the electricity isn’t so loud. Danny can focus on the steady beat of Jason’s heart. It helps to push all that other stuff to the background. Danny can breathe again. He doesn’t need to breathe but he’s been doing it lately to mimic Jason.

The mimicry ticks something in his brain that feels right and familiar. Jason talks to him, tells him all sorts of little things. Danny wants to respond but words sit at the tip of his tongue in a body incapable of speech, expressions he cannot quirk lips and brows into rest uncomfortably beneath his skin.

He shifts closer to Jason when they sit together on the small two-person couch as if being closer to someone human will make him more human…more alive.

He wants to go back.

He does not know how.

~*~

Memories of scathing threats and nights spent piecing himself back together thread through his dreams. Needle and thread. Needle and thread. There’s green everywhere. He’s sitting in a pool of it. It splatters the walls.

Memories shift to stitching outside with the knowledge that he can sleep sooner if he doesn’t have to spend an hour scrubbing the walls and floor.

Sometimes there’s other faceless people helping him. Black hair. Red hair. Gentle hands brushing hair off of his sweaty forehead. His mind won’t let him see them, remember them fully but he vividly remembers an argument on meat versus greens that turned into a fight against human sized meat monsters.

He also remembers their screams from the day he died…

When he wakes this time, there’s a moment where he’s stuck in the void, trapped within the flesh and ectoplasm that is his body. Panic floods him and he frantically breaks loose. He should have stayed but he can’t bear to be stuck in dark confines. It’s too reminiscent of nightmare memories that sit at the edge of his mind, not yet remembered but never fully forgotten.

Danny is more aware of time now. Another week passes and he can better tell what hours versus minutes versus days feels like. Throughout it all, Jason is there. His habits, his little quirks all becoming familiar to Danny. All becoming endearing.

~*~

There’s hands on him, hands that he associates with love and safety, but their hurting, hurting, hurting. Why are they hurting him?! Stop! Please! It’s Danny! It’s Danny. Please…please no more.

Soft hands, bigger than his. Always bigger than his no matter how much he grows, but she’s always there, always loving.

Soothing fingers card through his hair with whispered promises that she’ll get him out. She’s almost ready. She’s so close to freeing him.

There’s voices yelling and flashes of green and he’s panicking, but not for himself. For her. Where is she? WHERE IS SHE?! He’s fighting and screaming and struggling because She’s GONE. So he screams and screams and screams until darkness overtakes him.

Flickering fluorescents are the last light he sees for a long long time.

First | Previous | Next

Yeets this out and races back to my hole.

Ya, so we be getting somewhere. It took me a while to figure out how to get to where I want this to go and I had the crisis of wanting to change where I wanted it to go and the ultimate decision to not change it (it may change in the future again. Lolol) But mostly it was the new fic I started that held this one up. That and actually getting some temp work (of course it ended up being manual labor again and so I went from doing almost nothing to running around for 8 hours and carrying heavy things).

We all good now tho. I’m finally adjusted. My lil bro be graduating next week tho so I might be busy again with that and the pet sitting. Either that or I’ll be extra using writing as my escape. It’s one of those fifty-fifty things.

[the new fic isn’t out yet. But it’s Dead On Main and a sort of horror comedy with a fair bit of gore involved.

@akintoabitch @snowblub @isaactheautobot @jaguarthecat @ventureingonwings

@dannyphantomphan @nonbinary-disaster @depressed-bitchy-demon @8-29pm @addie-lover-of-stories @lifefilledwithstories @apointlessbox @skulld3mort-1fan @katgirl05 @spookytragedyshark @mandyne-1001 @ascetic-orange @booklover9114 @qualifiedpasta @mouzerequis @fleeting-mists @gin2212 @rollthatcritical @kaitouhime @itsloveleo @litlecameron @phantom-dc @hippityhoppity-iownyourbones @pastalavistamf @kokoroluna @legowerewolf @riasthelustful @agreatcheesecakestudentstuff @mysterimax

@rangerhorsetug @treepainting @thatonegirl10 @demiourgias @spooky-fm @antagonisticly @fluffy23sblog @manglethemingle @kyrianclawraith @layyeschips @shepardking @asphyxia778 @ballzfrog @fluffen-spooky @drowningroane @deathsdaisy @malaayna @mistyaltair @potatoeofwisdom @heartsong18 @nixthenerd @icedbluesoul @the-church-grimm @overtherose @sara0055

[whumpbug]

Hello Bug!! So I wrote a little fanfic about your boys Simon and Archie. I'm the one who sent you the prompt about Archie having a minor injury and showing up at Simon's apartment and ending up taking care of him, but I thought what you wrote was too perfect to add onto so I did something kind of different. I wrote something taking place during the two days Archie was in the hospital after his #1 Worst Injury. I also took the creative liberty of making it December 24th because why not

I don't know if either of your guys are actually Christian or celebrate Christmas but I still wanted to write a Christmas special because. wholesomeness

okay okay here it is I REALLY HOPE YOU LIKE IT

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

It was almost midnight. The only sounds were Archie’s labored rasps of breath and the heart monitor beeping steadily. The lights were dim, and the window had frosted over from the snow. Simon held his warm hand in both of his.

He reminded himself that he wasn’t to blame. He had to keep doing that, whenever his thoughts turned against him. He couldn’t have known what would happen, and there was no way he could’ve gotten there faster while still driving safely.

Still. It hurt. The image of Archie’s chest drenched in blood was something he’d never forget. He couldn’t have saved him on his own, so he had to take him here. Break his promise. And he hated that.

It couldn’t have been a worse time, either. He wanted to spend Christmas with Archie, but not like this.

Three soft knocks at the door. Probably a nurse, sent to check in on things. Simon forced himself to take a deep breath to keep his voice steady and called, “come in.”

His eyes widened when he saw a nurse, yes — but also four patients. All children. A dark-skinned teenage girl in a wheelchair held a large red box in her lap, wrapped with a green bow. A little redheaded kid — no more than five — had a handful of lollipops in the palm that wasn’t set in a sling. A boy on crutches with a dimpled smile and long braids was holding a book. A small girl with hazel eyes hugging a teddy bear was wearing a mask, probably due to a contagious respiratory illness. The nurse carried a pan of cookies.

For a beat, none of them said a word. Then the teen girl pushed herself forward and cleared her throat. “Hi. Is… is that really Vigil?”

Simon was stunned. He nodded.

“He saved me a-about a year ago. My name’s Natalie, but, um… back then, I was still going by Nathan. Did, did he mention me?” She asked quietly, curling a strand of her hair on her finger.

It took a minute, but Simon did recall — last summer. “He mentioned a Nathan,” he said. “Car crash. Right?”

She looked timidly off to the side. “Uh, yeah. We talked a little after. And he made sure all of us got home safe, so… so I thought it’d be nice to…” She trailed off, shaking her head. “I mean, it wasn’t just my idea. Everyone helped.”

The nurse smiled down at the girl — Natalie — then looked back up to Simon. “We wanted to bring Christmas to Vigil. I hope you don’t mind the intrusion.”

Before Simon could respond, the redhead with the lollipops piped up, “these are for both of you!”

She ran to Simon with little thumping footsteps and offered them to him. “When he wakes up, I want you to tell him they’re from Emily and that he’ll be all better real soon!”

Simon didn’t smile, but his eyes shone. He reluctantly moved one of his hands away from Archie’s to take the lollipops and place them down on the nightstand. “Thank you, Emily,” he said.

“I’m not Emily, silly! That’s my grandma. He saved her one time from bad guys. She says to give him her ‘best wishes.’ My name’s Quinn.”

“Thank both of you, then,” Simon corrected. Eyeing her arm in a cast, he added, “you’ll be better soon too, Quinn.”

That got her to smile. The boy was next in line, limping up next to Quinn. He held out a quivering hand holding a worn cover of a novel. Simon took it and peered at the title. The Journey to Planet 56, by Emilia Robinson. Science fiction, space adventure. Alright, now Simon was smiling — this kid really had Archie pegged.

“Do you think he’ll like it?” The kid prodded, eyes wide and hopeful.

“Trust me, he’ll love it.”

“Say it’s from Cuauhtemoc,” he instructed. “Um, that’s me. Temo for short. That’s my very very favorite book. And I want him to have it, because he got my brother out of an icy lake. Tell him get well soon.”

“I will,” assured Simon. He set down the book next to the lollipops.

The little girl with the mask on was next. She held out the teddy, which Simon noticed was a somewhat realistic model of a fuzzy black bear. Simon took it gently. “Thanks,” he told her quietly, moving to place it gently on top of Archie, but she frantically shook her head and started signing something. He paused, puzzled. “What…”

“That’s American Sign Language,” the nurse explained. “I can’t see what she’s saying from behind, but earlier she told me she wanted the teddy bear to be for you. Her name’s Esperanza.”

Simon blinked. Slowly, he pulled the teddy bear back and looked at it. It felt soft and warm in his hands. “For me?”

The nurse handed the cookie tray to Natalie for a minute to tap the kid with the mask on the shoulder. He signed something to her — probably translating what Simon said — and she nodded to him.

She signed something else, and the nurse interpreted, “you deserve something nice too. For saving our Vigil, you are a real hero.”

Simon was speechless. A hero. Since he’d failed to save Archie on his own, that was the last thing he dared think of himself as. The thought made his eyes sting and blur with the threat of tears. He took a deep breath to keep himself from crying, because he refused to — at least until all the kids were done visiting. He looked up at the nurse. “You know ASL?”

“My mother is Deaf, so it’s actually my first language,” he affirmed. “You want to say something?”

“Tell her… thank you.”

“Tell her yourself. It’s like this,” he said, pressing his fingers to his chin and then holding it outwards with a flat palm. Simon looked back to Esperanza and mimicked the motion as best as he could. Her mouth was concealed by the mask, but joy bloomed in her eyes. It reminded Simon a little of Archie — the way his smile lit up his whole face.

Natalie handed the cookie tray back to the nurse and wheeled closer to Simon. The other kids moved out of the way. She picked up the box in her lap and showed it off to Simon. “Do you… want to do the honors?” She asked quietly.

Simon considered it, but eventually shook his head. “Vigil should. It’s his gift, after all.”

“Okay,” she said. “I hope he likes it. We all pitched in to get it for him…”

“I’m sure he will,” Simon assured. He took the box from her and set it down gently on the floor. It was surprisingly heavy. He wondered what it was.

“And last but not least,” the nurse said, holding up the cookies. “These are for everyone!”

A chorus of cheers broke out among the children.

It was past midnight by this point, certainly. Christmas. And now, it kind of felt like it.

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

So uhh what do you think? I usually write in present-tense but past-tense seemed right for this story

Also you get complete creative freedom about the ending. Do you think Archie woke up for cookies or did he get some a few hours after everyone left? If he woke up while everyone was still there, what did he say to them? What did they say to him?

And if he woke up after everyone except Simon was already gone (probably to their rooms because it is way past all of those kids' bedtimes), what did Simon tell Archie about the visit he missed and all the gifts he got?

Thank you so much for the go-ahead on fanfics Bug!! This was so much fun

also yes I made up the title and author of the book. I would've used a real one but sadly I am not in possession of any sci-fi adventure books

anon. anon i need you to listen to me. [grabs u by the shoulders]

when i say i cried real tears while reading this, i am not exaggerating at ALL.

THIS IS THE SWEETEST, WARMEST MOST WHOLESOME FIC I HAVE EVER READ AND I GENUINELY TEARED UP. im sorry it took me so long to reply i reread it like 10 times already. i LOVE it. SO. MUCH. everything, EVERYTHING about this fic was perfect but i'm going to talk about some of the highlights under the cut and then answer what i think the ending would be

HERE WE GO!

✮⋆˙

okay right away i just want to say anon??? your writing style is SO so so good???? like i was captivated the ENTIRE time

simon blaming himself is so painfully in character. like no simon you are not a bad person because you couldn't literally teleport to archie's location take a deep breath

ALSO THIS BEING A CHRISTMAS FIC MADE MY HEART SO SO SO HAPPY UGH

the thought you put into all the other patients??? the care?? god i don't know how you managed but i'm now attached to all of these kids they're so precious

NATALIE IS SO SWEET and i love the headcanon (well now its canon) of archie telling simon about all of the people he saves and simon remembering them

quinn is SO silly. also is this a reference to the little old lady he had saved in the hypothermia fic??

same with temo is his brother the kid that i made nearly drown in that fic? (sorry temo's brother)

EITHER WAY I LOVE IT AND ALSO TEMO GETTING ARCHIE A SCI-FI BOOK???? MY HEART. MY HEART IS EXPLODING. ANON YOUR ATTENTION TO DETAIL

GOD and little esperanza remembering simon. i want you to know that after those kids left simon sobbed. the wholesomeness was too much for him.

also anon i am so curious. WHAT is the box. this is my personal pandora's box im so so curious

GOD i just love everything about this. you made every single character in this so so so loveable and real and human and it just made me so so so happy. i hope you know my day, year, LIFE, has been MADE. thank you so so SO much

what do i think happens next?

okay anon i honestly think i might even write a little drabble for what happens next because i'm OBSESSED with this scenario, but i'm not going to put it here so the post doesn't get too long. but keep an eye out for that because this scenario is SO perfect.

essentially, i don't think archie would wake up while the kids were there. i think he'd probably stay mostly asleep, what with how drugged up he is.. BUT when he wakes up the next morning and simon tells him about what happened and where all these gifts came from, i think archie would start bawling.

like i think archie would be so touched and happy that it would just come out in a burst of tears and simon would probably join him because 1) he is equally as touched and 2) that man is sleep-deprived and emotional because of it.

the two would have a little tiny christmas morning celebration, they'd watch TV together, archie would read his book, but i think simon would probably fall asleep on accident later in the evening.

which gives archie the perfect oppurtunity to sneak out of his bed and go around thanking each of the kids. (simon would have stopped him if he was awake because. yknow. archie is still recovering from a bullet wound. but. archie is just sneaky like that.)

WELL ANYWAYS, thats what would happen in my mind. archie would find some way to thank them. he'd be too grateful not to.

✮⋆˙

okay real talk. anon thank you so so so much. since i was little, i dreamed of the day people would actually Care about little ocs and characters i made and it means SO much to me that you and other people like them. thank you SO SO SO much for writing this and as always, if you ever write more for them, know that i will be EQUALLY as thrilled. this is definitely a highlight of my YEAR. thank you thank you thank you!!!

[kimberly-stocks]

Don't let go

"Only say no if you really don't wanna be with me!"

"No!" She cried. Her heart squeezed at the hurt look that flashed across his face before he turned to leave, fraught, agitated.

"Jess, wait!" He froze in place, his fingers clutched around the door handle, his shoulders tense, his back to her.

She crossed the distance between them in two seconds, and wrapped her arms around him in a fierce hug, her face pressed against the nape of his neck, breathing in his scent. He stiffened in her embrace, but relaxed after a few moments when she still hasn't let him go.

"Don't leave... Not again," he heard her whisper.

"Rory..." His voice thick, chocked. She squeezed him tighter, her eyes shut trying to will the tears away.

His fingers let go of his grip on the door handle, and it closed with a soft click, as he turned in her embrace carefully, slowly, to face her. His arms wrapped around her to hug her back. He planted a kiss on the top of her head, and that seemed to break something in her. The floodgates opened and she sniffled, trying to choke down the sob in vain. He pulled her closer, one hand cradling the back of her head, the other stroking her back while he rocked her from side to side soothingly, like one would a small child. She cried in his arms for missing him so much it hurt, for their could've beens, for the loneliness of this year, for Yale being not what she expected, for missing her mom's phone calls, for getting into this mess with Dean, for grandma trying to force her lifestyle on her by furnituring her entire dorm, for the set up date with Graham, for her bad grades and failed class, for everything in between. It felt good, cathartic, to finally let this all go, all those emotions and frustrations, everything she's been bottling up since he left. He held her close, carefully but firmly, steadily, she felt safe in his arms, like she always did.

Why does everything have to be so complicated? She didn't want him to leave, but couldn't fathom a scenario where he stayed. She didn't know what to say to his crazy proposal to run away with him, she knew she would never do that, but a small part of her buried somewhere deep inside was whispering 'what if?' She dreamed about seeing him again so many times, especially after the firelight festival, after his confession. And now here he is, holding her. His presence is overwhelming, but not unwelcome. She doesn't want to let go.

Finally, her sobs ceased and tears dried. She's still hugging him tight. His leather jacket is a little squeaky under her cheek, but it smells like him, and she missed that smell so bad it makes her insides ache.

They're just standing there in the middle of her empty dorm, the lights are dimmed, it's dark outside. No one in the whole world knows that he's here right now, with her. Rory feels like maybe they are the last two people on Earth, campus is quiet, its usual sounds that make it through her shitty door on a daily are absent. It's eerie and serene at the same time. She doesn't want to let go.

Jess doesn't move at all, even his palms stopped their soothing caress on her back. She'd think he was a statue if she couldn't hear the steady beat of his heart. It's a comforting sound to hear. She doesn't want to let go. She doesn't want to think what will happen when she does. They're stuck in this limbo, in the uncertainty of what's to come. Finally she lifts her head and looks him in the eyes.

"What did you really come here to say?" Somehow she doesn't believe that his frantic plea was the intended message, his eyes were too wild for that.

He doesn't respond for a long moment, his eyes searching something in hers.

"I don't know," finally he whispers. "I didn't think this through."

"Clearly," despite the situation she chuckles. That brings a tentative upturn to his lip.

"I guess I just wanted to see you. Talk to you. Apologize for every shitty thing I've done to you," he swallows before continuing. "I'm sorry, Rory. I really am sorry."

"I know." She can see it in his eyes, he's sincere, he's trying. She doesn't know if it's enough in the grand scheme of things. But it's enough for now.

Just something that popped into my head as I'm trying to get back to writing literati 🤔

[dude1818]

Edit: It's on AO3 now

Totori was still perched on Maru’s bed, but at least she had her underwear back on.

“Again, I’m so sorry for Maru’s behavior,” Kiruko pleaded. She and Maru kneeled in front of the bed with their heads lowered contritely. “He gets a little, ah, carried away sometimes.”

Maru stiffened at the implication. After the faux pas where he called for his “sis” to come watch while the cute proprietor of the hotel they were staying at tried to seduce him, though, he was loath to open his mouth any more than he had to.

Kiruko pressed on and explained what Maru’s power was and how the two of them had been operating as a monster hunter team. “So yeah, that’s basically it. I shoot ‘em, and while they’re stunned, Maru does his special touch and destroys the core that powers them. I swear, we have no idea why his powers triggered when he touched you. That’s never happened with a person before. We have absolutely no intention of being bad guests and bringing harm to you or your establishment.”

While Maru was just embarrassed for fumbling a girl so badly, Kiruko had much more practical concerns. Totori had probably sold them out to the bandits earlier. But when they had returned from the “safe water” trap, after killing the wild bear that had attacked and recovering the injured bandits, Totori had given them their stuff back and covered their tracks when the other bandits took away the wounded for treatment. Kiruko didn’t know if they’d be so lucky with another bandit encounter if the King of Hotels kicked them out of her hotel, especially since she had used all of her bullets on the bear.

Thankfully, Totori seemed more amused than anything. “It’s all fine,” she said. “No hard feelings. Although,” she said, glancing at Maru, “you never actually addressed my proposal.”

Maru blanched.

Totori laughed. “Fair enough, I’m sure you’re not in the mood anymore! However, I’m not too picky.” With that, she started eyeing Kiruko up and down.

This time Kiruko was the one with nothing to say. “We-ell, I mean, um…” she stammered out. She felt her cheeks redden as Maru shot her an absolute death-glare. It was one thing for him to botch his first time, but for Kiruko to claim the rebound right in front of him?

Kiruko hurriedly tried again. “Look you’ve been very nice but we’re here on professional business okay and I’m going back to my room now thank you good night!”

Kiruko backed out of Maru’s room as fast as the words tumbled out of her mouth. She could feel his glare boring a hole into her, and she knew she would never live that down. Totori’s giggling rang in her ears as she fled all the way back to her own room.

Kiruko threw her jacket over the chair and slumped into her hotel bed. Wrangling with a real-life bear wasn’t nearly as stressful as dealing with other people. First Maru coming onto her, getting caught, and now the hotel girl? Kiruko never wanted that kind of attention.

She took several deep breaths and tried to slow her racing heartbeat. She would never have actually said yes to the kid, right? Surely it was just a matter of being caught by surprise.

A couple of minutes passed, and then there was a quiet knock at the door. Kiruko’s breath caught in her throat. The door opened a crack, and Totori slipped inside.

“Hey.” At Kiruko’s deer-in-the-headlights expression at her intrusion, Totori looked for a place to sit down that wasn’t the bed. She found the chair and pushed the jacket to the side. As she did, Kiruko noticed that she had put the rest of her clothes back on, then kicked herself mentally when she realized she had been looking at that.

Totori continued. “Hey, I’m sorry about that. I mean, the offer technically stands, but really I was just trying to lighten the mood. I definitely didn’t mean to freak you out like that.”

Kiruko took another deep breath and steadied herself. “I meant what I said back there, or what I was trying to say. You’ve been very gracious with us, maybe more than you needed to be. And it’s not like you’re not cute!” Kiruko realized she was straying from the point and blushed. “Anyway, it’s not anything to do with you. I’m just not comfortable doing, well, that.”

“So it’s not just because I’m a girl?” Totori asked. She seemed a little more interested at that.

“We-ell, I wouldn’t say that.” They had already laid Maru’s secrets bare; no point holding her own back. She left out the grisly details, but briefly explained how she had once been a boy and was somehow now in his sister’s body. “And well, I liked girls before, so I don’t see why that would change.”

“Huh.” Totori looked thoughtful. “I believe you. But if it’s not because I’m a girl, and you did say I was cute…” She waggled her eyebrows and Kiruko blushed again. “So what’s your actual hang-up? Like I said, I want people to feel good, and you don’t seem to be feeling good about any of that.”

“It’s my sister’s body,” Kiruko emphasized. “I don’t know how I got here, and I don’t know what happened to her. I don’t know if she consented to this, because I certainly didn’t! But I’ve spent the last five years taking care of this body and being respectful of it, and I don’t want to do anything with it that Kiriko wouldn’t have been okay with.”

“Sex,” Totori said.

“Ye-yeah,” Kiruko responded. “It just doesn’t feel right to do it with my sister’s body.”

“Well, I don’t know if I agree with you, Kiruko. Isn’t it your body now? But I accept that you’re uncomfortable. Once you figure it out, though, come back and pay me a visit.” The King of Hotels patted her hand, gave her a wink, and left the room.

Kiruko rolled over and buried her face in her pillow.

[climbthemountain2020]

Flame of Autumn - Chapter 9

Part 10/25 | Ao3

TW for mentions of torture.

Eris

Eris could not possibly fathom what he had been thinking when he told Tilly about the literal treason he was committing, but he couldn’t bring himself to regret it. The thing was, he couldn’t remember if he’d ever had someone in his life he’d trusted, let alone enough to tell a secret that could have him killed by sunrise. But he trusted Tilly.

She’d shared that magic with him–he’d known she was holding back, but he’d wanted her to tell him on her own terms, and she had. She’d sacrificed her biggest secret to help ease his pain, and he found he didn’t care at all that she had information on him that could damn him. He wanted her to know–found that he wanted her to know every single part of him. Some time in between the shared books, the quips back and forth, the touching of their hands, Eris had begun to fall in love with his wife.

Which was exactly why sleep was not coming to Eris tonight.

He lay in the warm bed, Tilly’s steady breaths filling the air between them as he stared at the ceiling. After they’d shared that moment in the bathroom, she’d left him to bathe, turning down the sheets of the bed and getting him tea. When he emerged, she looked almost shy, and they’d spoken little before bed, but he’d pushed his wet curls out of his eyes and grabbed her hand to give her knuckles a kiss. The blush across her cheekbones had been worth it.

Eris could hardly believe that he felt no pain as he lay on his back–without Tilly’s magic, he’d have been sleeping on his stomach for a week, even with his accelerated healing. Beron had been absolutely furious, furious that “that girl” had dared to speak out of turn, had dared to talk to him in such a way. He was even angrier at Eris’ blatant refusal to continue hitting her.

Eris had explained it away through a mouthful of blood. They had a meeting to attend in two day’s time–it would have been unseemly for her to appear with a face full of bruises, and he’d already informed the lords that she would be traveling with him, so he couldn’t leave her behind now. Though Beron had seemed somewhat placated by his response, there had been no stopping him once his bloodlust had begun. Once Beron had begun to dole out a lesson, he never stopped until he was finished.

“Do you care for her?” He’d asked Eris, sneering as he cracked the whip across his son’s back.

“For that vapid girl with hardly any house training? Of course not. She’s here for heirs, nothing more.” He’d responded through gritted teeth, both to stem the pain of the slashes opening through the flesh of his back and the additional pain of speaking so horribly and dishonestly about Tilly.

It’s for the greater good. It keeps her safe.

“That’s right, Eris. She is here for breeding and nothing more. You’d do well to remember that.”

“Shes just another faceless female to fuck, father.” He fought against a groan of pain as Beron lashed his flames over the open wounds on his body. “Nothing more.”

“Good. Because if she ever speaks out of turn again, I will make you kill her while I watch.” The hope had turned to ash in Eris’ heart, snuffing out like a candle in the wind.

Eris turned to look at Tilly sleeping soundly beside him. She always came to him in her sleep now, winding her small, warm body around his sweetly. He always let her. He always slept so little, but he slept better entwined with her.

He looked down and scoffed to see Hestia on the bed by Tilly’s feet.

Vicious hounds, indeed.

Hestia cocked her head and tipped an ear up as if to say look who’s talking, then set her head back on Tilly’s feet. He watched Tilly’s chest rise and fall beneath the blankets, her beautiful red hair spread across the pillow. She looked so peaceful, so gorgeous. He had come to care for her too much. She’d inserted herself so flawlessly into his life, but being here was going to get her killed. Tonight had only proved that. She was too good for this place, for him, for his whole family–just like his mother.

But she’d taken care of him. She used her hands, her magic, her words. No one had taken care of him since he was a boy. Every day since Tilly had come here, even when they were strangers, she’d been there for him, supported him, was unabashedly kind to him even when she’d had no reason to be. Eris had felt that spark of hope bloom in his chest when he’d seen her on their wedding day, and it had grown to a thrashing inferno within him. Could he be selfish enough to put her safety on the line to keep that?

Tilly mumbled, scrambling sleepily across the gap between them and grabbing his shirt to pull him to her. He let her and turned his face into her hair, rolling onto his side to wrap an arm around her waist. She sighed pleasantly, nuzzling her face into his chest, and Eris let himself savor the moment. He tried to feel the way her delicate hands grasped him, her strong legs wrapped around his, her slow, easy breaths fanned out across his chest. He inhaled her sweet scent, and committed it all to memory as he let sleep take him.

Tilly

Something vital had shifted between Tilly and Eris. She could feel it in between them when she awoke the following morning, tucked warmly into his side, his quiet snores falling into her hair. She didn’t race to disentangle herself from him this time, she simply let herself be there, snuggled more deeply into him, and closed her eyes against the rising morning light.

When she opened her eyes again, she found his amber ones staring at her, and the smile that curved his lips set alight something within her that spread from her toes to the top of her scalp. She stretched like a cat, and returned the smile shyly.

“Good morning, Eris.” She couldn’t help the blush she felt creep up her neck, and it clearly did not escape his notice either as he smiled with delight.

“Good morning, Tilly.” His voice was deep and rough with sleep, and it was doing nothing to help the sprawling blush. She giggled and rolled out of the bed to trot to the bathroom to wash up and change. This was exactly the way she wanted to wake up every day for the rest of her immortal life.

They ate breakfast together on the couch, reading while she tucked her socked feet beneath his thigh. He’d raised a brow at her as she’d done it, but she’d just shrugged and gone back to her book. The mornings were getting colder, and she was going to utilize the built-in, magical warmth of her husband. Every so often, she would catch him looking at her face, and she knew by the look of desperation in his eyes that he was staring at the cut on her lip and the bruises along her jaw. She tried to let him know she understood, she didn’t blame him at all, but the looks he gave her were haunted.

Beron was away for a few days, and the relief around the Forest House was palpable. Since their incredible wake-up, Eris had only seemed to withdraw further into himself, though. Tilly was worried for him–she knew he was battling with the constant reminder on her face of what he’d had to do. When she caught him looking, she would touch her hands to his arms, his hands, his face–hoping to reassure him.

After they tired of reading, Eris convinced Tilly to take a walk with him around the grounds–despite his earlier sadness, he said he’d wanted to show her something, and she’d indulge any adventures he wanted to take if only she could see him crack a smile. Without Beron around, the people of the court seemed to breathe more freely, and a walk around the grounds would be nice. She dressed warmly, per his advice, the dark clouds in the distance seeming to spell out the incoming rain.

Last night had been horrible, but the moment they’d shared in their bathroom had changed something between them. He’d been ready to take on the pain of torture to keep her safe, and she’d figured if that hadn’t earned her trust then nothing would. She’d hardly thought twice before healing him, despite the fact that she’d spent centuries hiding that very power from everybody. He meant more to her than secrecy; Eris seemed to suddenly mean more to her than anything. She planned to show him her fire today, perhaps after they’d walked a bit farther from the manor and she wouldn’t risk anyone else seeing. She wanted to share everything with him, with no stones left unturned. If she was going to do this, really commit to this, there needed to be no secrets left between them.

“So, where are you taking me, husband?” Eris focused his eyes on the woods ahead.

“It’s a surprise.” He said, somewhat flatly. Tilly tried again to humor him.

“Ah, so you really are taking me to the woods to kill me this time, hmm?” He laughed mirthlessly, but he still wouldn’t look at her.

“Eris? Are you alright?” He turned to her, eyes immediately going to her jaw, devastation once again filling his eyes. Tilly grabbed his hand, lifting it to her mouth with a turn and pressing a soft kiss to his palm. His eyes widened, but the expression of pain only seemed to deepen. His voice cracked as he asked “Ready?”

“Ready.” She said, her concern only growing as he winnowed them out of the chilly woods.

When Tilly opened her eyes, the trees of Autumn were covered in a light snow, and the rain was lightly falling around them. She looked around at the familiar landscape, mountains in the distance. This was close to her father’s house.

“Are we at the border?” She turned to ask him as he cast a shield around them to keep out the rain and cold.

“Yes, near Castalare.” So, about an hour’s travel from the woods she knew so well.

“Why are we here?” She asked curiously, but when she turned back to Eris, the tears in his eyes caused her to stumble. “Eris, what’s wrong?” Without hesitation, he reached into the pocket between worlds, pulling out a duffel bag and a heavy winter coat.

“You’re leaving.” Every bit of air whooshed from her chest, threatening to choke her. Her eyes burned as the panic rose in her throat.

“What? I–” But Eris was already talking again, as though he wanted to get it all out before he lost the nerve.

“Kallias will offer you asylum from here. Keep going. Tell him you need to speak with Rhysand from the Night Court, he’ll keep you…” But Tilly had stopped hearing anything except the roaring in her ears as the world fell out from under her.

She wouldn’t. He couldn’t.

“No.” It was all she could manage, but her voice sounded stronger than she’d thought it would.

“Tilly, please.” The desperation in his voice broke something within her. “You’ll die here. I can’t watch him kill you the way he killed Jesminda. I won’t survive it.”

Eris was…Eris was crying. Big tears rolled from his beautiful amber eyes and down his freckled cheeks. Distantly, she was aware that she was crying, too, the tears burning trails down her cold face.

But she took a step closer, then another. His eyes were wild, but she grabbed his hands in hers anyway. In a voice much braver than she felt, she said “I am not leaving, Eris.”

“You must. I care for you too much, I let myself get reckless, and now I have to let you go.” He was heaving great gasps of air, fighting for a breath.

“You will not order me to leave.” She tried to steady her breaths, stop her own tears. She mustered the calmest voice she could, but it came out as barely more than a whisper. “I don’t care about the risk. I only care about you.”

“You cannot possibly choose your safety–your life–after me?” His look was so sincerely disbelieving that it sent another cleaving blow through her heart. Had anyone ever chosen Eris? Had he ever been someone’s priority?

“I do, and I will. My place is by your side–for as long as we have, I am yours. I will not flee. I will not leave you to do this alone.” One breath. Two. His eyes darted around her face, as though he couldn’t truly believe it, then his face crumpled and his arms were around her.

Their lips met in a crash of harsh breaths and clacking teeth–rough, primal, necessary. A fire burned in Tilly as her hands delved into his curls, tugging his head down to hers and nipping his lip. He hummed as his hands roamed wildly down her sides, grasping beneath her thighs and lifting her to him. She felt the shield drop only as the rain soaked through her cloak, felt them moving only as she felt the tree press into her back. Otherwise, she knew nothing but the feel of Eris’ lips on hers, his hands on her body. She arched into his touch like it had been missing from her for the entirety of her life, and he pushed into her with his hips as though he couldn’t get close enough.

The kisses began to calm, their hands roamed more gently, and when Tilly opened her eyes, she found him staring back at her. He let his head drop to her shoulder, collapsing against her in relief, so she unwound her hands from his hair and gently rubbed circles onto his back.

“You would truly stay?” She heard him whisper into her neck, but she had made up her mind long ago.

“Always. I will always stay, Eris. I am yours.” His arms tightened around her as they held each other, only the sounds of their mingled breath and the rain falling down around them.

Taglist: @cauldronblssd@queercontrarian@byyalady@thelovelymadone@clockwork-ashes@lovingkelj

[suvidrache]

A Ruined Childhood

age in bio when interacting. minors do not interact.

Word Count: 838 / Read it on AO3 / Wattpad | Event List

Vergil is much different from Dante.

Vergil preferred to be alone. He was happy with you, however; he didn't like going to visit places much. He would occasionally take you on dates to small places where there were no people or very few people. He loved you, but he didn't want to run the risk of someone who knows him hurting or even killing you. He is a very private man.

Vergil would sometimes bring you home things from his trips. He never disclosed his occupation, in case you wanted to join in, or if something were to happen. He didn't want you to worry about him. He knew that you could handle yourself out there, but he didn't want to run the risk of you getting hurt. Even if it wasn't his fault, he would still blame himself for it. He wanted you to stay safe and also stay away from Dante. He found Dante to be annoying and he would hate if Dante started flirting or making comments about you. Dante loved to tell jokes and mess with Vergil. He didn't need to give Dante another reason to mess with him.

The only reason Vergil ever returned to help Dante out is that, despite how much he dislikes him, he is his brother, and he couldn't fight them alone. Both Dante and Vergil were born of Sparda and Eva. Dante had become a demon hunter and Vergil? He had desired power and to follow in the footsteps of his powerful demon father. Eva had hidden Dante away and searched for Vergil, to no avail. She had died trying and Vergil had been haunted for years, believing his mother had cared more about Dante than him.

Redgrave City had once been a city full of life. It was a happy and active place. Before the demons attacked it, before the land had been destroyed, brought back, and destroyed again. Many survivors left the city in hopes of finding a safe and better place.

Vergil sat on the couch reading the newspaper. He enjoyed reading a lot and preferred to read classic literature, but he liked to keep up with the things that happened in the city.

Vergil's childhood home had been destroyed when he was a child by demons. He had continued to reside there, despite the terrible condition it was in. He had done little to fix it and to bring back the home to its former glory. His home was a mansion on the outskirts of town. Not many came by here and if they did, they didn't bother to come to the house - or what remains of the house. When Vergil met you, he realized that if things continued any further, he would have to restore his home. He couldn't let you see the saddened state his home had become. So, in his free time, he began to restore the house. It was a slow and steady progress. It was better than it had once been. However, there was still work that needed to be done. You had no problem with it and helped Vergil out with as much as you could. You weren't bothered by the lack of care some places in the house had. You enjoyed helping to restore the place to its former glory.

You had left for the store and would be returning soon. Vergil had nothing to worry about until it hit him. You had been gone a while. Demons and Dante roamed the land. What happened if one of them got to you? He threw his paper aside and quickly got ready. He headed out the door and headed down the same pathway you had taken, or so he had hoped. It wasn't long before he had run into you.

"Y/N, are you okay?"

"Yes, I'm okay, thank you. How are you?"

"I'm fine. I was just worried something had happened to you."

"Oh! No, it's okay. I just grabbed a little too many." You said with a small smile to help put him at ease. He returned with a small smile and he grabbed some of the groceries from you. Together, you both made your way home while Vergil kept watch for any demons that may be near. He didn't want to lose you to them.

He opened the door for you and followed in after you. He helped you to put the groceries away and then he went upstairs. He debated whether to do it here or not. It wouldn't be very romantic, but he didn't entirely want to leave the house. He grabbed the box from the drawer and went back downstairs. Only quietly, as he did not want to ruin the surprise yet. You were heading to the sitting room and so he appeared behind you, dropped to one knee, and held the ring box open.

"Y/N, would you make me the happiest man alive?"

You turned and your hands cupped your face. You nodded and lowered your hands.

"Yes, I will."

© SUVIDRACHE — do not copy, translate, modify, or plagiarize my work. reblogs are appreciated!

Tag List: @sunmoongoddess / To join my tag list apply here!

[dreadfutures]

i feel like berries of some kind would be an innocent promise. Like mulberries, maybe because they don't have thorns and they're one of the first wild fruits kids can easily recognise and forage safely?

For @dadrunkwriting : Kieran & Mahariel & Morrigan

Words: 973

this berry prompt is bringing me so much inspiration it might be all i think about tonight

started this on the bus home

-:-:-

When Kieran first leaves the eluvian--really leaves, not just to sleep in his father's bed in cold, defensible, Vigil's Keep--he is overcome by the sheer tumult of life around him.

The between-worlds waking dream his mother had found in her eluvian had been a dead husk, an empty shell or a frozen reflection of the living world. There is no wind in his family's refuge; no insects buzz in the privacy of their leaves and the small worlds hidden in tree bark; no small creatures roam and rustle on their own inscrutable journeys. He has never known to miss their absence until this moment.

He knew it had been nighttime when his family began their journey out of the eluvian; his father had mentioned it as being past Kieran's bedtime when they set out. Kieran had desperately wanted to stay awake as Morrigan led the way through a network neither Halevune nor Kieran had known was alive, but indeed Halevune had taken Kieran up onto his back to let the boy sleep as the trek drew on and on.

A shift in the air had woken him up at last. It was still dark, and as he rubbed sleep from his eyes he had not known how much time or distance had passed while he slept. Through a corridor of hewn stone, Morrigan led them with certain steps, until the cold air grew more temperate, and the walls gave way to life.

Trees. Creatures. A breeze.

Kieran sits up, and his father swings him around to balance on his hip. The day will come when Kieran is too large for it to be a comfortable resting place for either of them, but for now, Kieran fists one hand in Halevune's quilted jacket to steady himself as he looks around.

The three of them stand at the mouth of the cave for a while, silent, drinking in the sounds of the forest around them. Halevune tilts his head back, eyes closed, nostrils flared as he filled his lungs with an incense of a season on the cusp of change.

"This is the land that shaped your father and I," says Morrigan, always the sharpest of Kieran's two prickly parents. She has never been content with staying still, and while Kieran knows their home through the eluvian has, yes, become home to her over the years, he knows she has longed for movement.

Thinking now of how she would spend hours flying in loops and circles in their magic haven, he stretches one arm with his fingers spread wide to touch the currents of air. It's an instinct, this knowledge: their safety all this time had come at the cost of the free, Fereldan air.

It blows his mother's fringe into her owl-like eyes, and then dances in her skirts as she takes the first step forward.

Halevune sets Kieran down, but it is as though he can sense how his son is pulled in a thousand directions, overwhelmed by the novel onslaught; he takes Kieran’s hand entirely into his and gives it a grounding squeeze.

As much as this teeming, thriving world seemed so different—there were some things that were the same: the feeling of his father’s callouses. The glint of his mother’s sharp-toothed smile, softening for them both when she thinks Halevune isn’t looking.

Anchored by his father’s strength at his side, led along by his mother’s sure path, Kieran lets his attention wander. His ears, round like his mother’s, drink in all the sounds he can. They come from all sides, and he knows in his heart there are more living things in this wide new world than he may ever be able to learn of. And yet he wishes to. He wants to know what whistles through the branches in a sudden burst of wings. He wants to know, intimately, what skitters away as he steps on the leaves and twigs that rot on the forest floor. He wants to know, understand—he wants to belong to this world of motion.

His parents confer with their eyes, decide on a course, and later, a campsite. They do not make Kieran aid them yet, but he watches them with the intent to learn. This, too, is a world he wants to be a part of: one of camaraderie, teamwork, companionship. His mother and his father work together on some tasks, and separately on others, to prepare this space for rest and protection in the days to come. They are familiar with these tasks and with how they are divided between two people—and specifically, between one another.

As the world grows brighter, their work changes.

“Come back to me,” Halevune says, but Morrigan instead strays to the edge of camp. She throws a cloth satchel and a weighty look over her shoulder at them, and responds:

“In my own time.”

She departs, and Halevune begins tying various pieces of rope into small loops. Snares, as Kieran will one day learn. Kieran watches, but he is preoccupied by that strange exchange of words. They have sent his thoughts into chaotic spirals, questions and ideas circling like the sounds teeming all around him, and he can’t quite hone in on any one thing before it flits away.

When Morrigan returns, her satchel full of fat, dark berries and long, pale roots, Halevune leaves with his ropes and knife. They pass one another, and Morrigan smirks.

“I returned,” she drawls.

“So shall I,” Halevune states.

Even apart, his mother and father are working in tandem to sustain their family, Kieran realizes. And among all the things he learns on this first venture into the wilderness, one thing remains with him all his life:

In the vast, unknowable, and impartial world, a promise is a vital anchor to keep one from being swept away.

[kariachi]

Quick fic. Some Argit focus, an aftermath of him finding out how Gwen treats Kevin.

Hint: He'd not happy.

Not the be-all-end-all of the concept, but I wanted something in that vein down.

~~

Argit isn’ t normally the sort to act rashly on his temper. He’s not normally the sort for a quick temper at all. That’s all on Kevin, a short fuse kept from blowing by constant stamping. No, Argit’s anger is more often something slow and well plotted. With a family like his, snapping out at every other shove hadn’t done half the good of a slow burn and careful planning. One of his exes had described them as opposing forms of an eruption- Kevin hot, fast, destroying everything around him, while Argit was slow and steady, engulfing and burning away anything in his path over time.

And things had been as normal the past several months. Yes, there had been the temptation, when Alan came by to let him know exactly how Gwendolyn had been behaving outside his sight, to just herd Kevin onto the nearest ship and skip the planet again. No matter the lives they were building, there were always more opportunities elsewhere, and the list of things he wouldn’t have given up for him was painfully short. But that was anger, defensiveness talking. The sort of thing that would cause more problems in the long run that he could deal with but didn’t want for Kevin.

So, he’d been trying to gently get him to leave of his own accord. Come back to Bellwood, where Argit had made damn sure he had a room- as important if not more when he was getting a place together as having his own- where he would be safe as he ever was. Had dropped all hints of friendliness, all teasing, when he saw or spoke to Gwendolyn. Once lighthearted words had gone sharp, comments once kept to himself or languages she didn’t know flowed freely. Yes, it meant Kevin was giving him shit when it was the lot them, but he didn’t hold it against him. Afterall, he was the one who kept going home with her, who needed to stay on her good side and had always been too desperate for affection just throw chaff aside. Argit understood, and in the end just wanted him to be safe, even if he couldn’t bring himself to pretend he was being anything more than civil.

But Kevin was his favorite, the most important person in his galaxy, for all his competition was few and far between. But Gwendolyn was, nothing. Had lost her rights to anything more when Alan had described her putting Kevin on the ground. When Argit had begun planning how, as soon as Kevin was out of her line of fire, he was going to ruin everything for her.

But there was a difference between hearing stories and seeing with your own eyes.

Ears pressed back, every quill and strand of fur straight on end, he ignored Ben and Rook’s shouts as he hopped over Gwendolyn’s envenomed form. All his attention was on Kevin, beelining to his side, letting off a constant stream in Null Void Pidgen of alternating snarled insults and gentle care. Kevin looked back and forth between him and Gwendolyn, expression tight, torn- to Argit’s expert eye- between hurt, anger, and relief. The harsh words from the others expanded to include him as Argit helped brush him clean of the remnants of the rotting ceiling that should still have been above them, checked him for injuries. Shook off Kevin’s own attempts, in the same tongue, to soothe his temper, reassure him of his safety.

He wasn’t one for a quick temper, but in his head Argit was planning their escape again. Forget everything else, just go as far as they could and leave these bastards to clean up whatever messes were left behind.

Otherwise, next time she wouldn’t just get quilled.

[gizmocrate-werecrow]

What to do when you are a leafling: soft music and care

(I wanted to do a chapter exploring Sherry. Warning for implied death and a general sense of melancholy.)

Sherry floated over to Yonny and tapped his hand, he weakly opened his eyes and smiled.

“I-I-I guess it also affects me…”

Sherry nodded and turned to Dingo and Bernard.

“Bernard, help him up, I can bring him to our hideaway but promise to be down there straight away.” Sherry said she grabbed Yonny and they both teleported in a wisp of green light.

“Gah, this is so confusing.” Dingo said. He grabbed Bernard’s hand and they walked to the cave entrance.

“I agree. I sure hope he’s okay.” Bernard said, he tugged his stem and the ground shook.

A group of armored cannon larvae emerged from the ground.

Dingo, Bernard and Jack steadied their ground. This was going to take a while, especially with their sleep-deprived minds.

—

Down in the hideaway, Yonny was resting in a sleeping bag while Sherry tended to him, she placed an ice pack on his forehead and a thermometer in his mouth, she now wore a folded face mask over her stem.

“…”

“It’s going to be okay, as long as you’re down here nothing bad will happen. Don’t worry, your friends are coming.” Sherry said while lightly dabbing some antiseptic on Yonny’s stem.

“Th-thank you.” Yonny weakly said. He coughed and felt out the hole in his suit. He plucked the thermometer out and looked at the temperature.

“21 degrees Celsius or 70 degrees Fahrenheit core body temperature…oh no.”

“Is that bad? Did I make the ice pack too cold or something?” Sherry fretted while lifting the ice pack off.

“No no, the average core body temperature is around 36 degrees Celsius or 98.6 degrees fahrenheit, as you get lower, your bodily functions start to fail and eventually die.”

“How do you know all of this?”

“Medical school and an internship at a mortician’s”

“What’s a school? What’s a mortician?” Sherry asked, she tilted her head in an inquisitive manner.

“I will answer that later, my dear assistant. Firstly I need to go outside-“

“No! You need to rest! The sun is dangerous and you’ve been up all night!”

“So I have” Yonny yawned out, he streached and stared at his hands for a moment before laying to sleep.

Sherry let out a ghostly sigh and floated around the doctor diligently much like a guard dog would, no harm would come to Yonny as long as she was around!

An hour passed and Sherry was digging through his emergency kit, looking at all the fun trinkets that seemed to reside in there, pure white camouflaging wrap, a sticky on one side and not sticky on another strip, funny little clicky things and a small box. Sherry tilted her head and gently opened it.

The most beautiful sound came from the box, it sounded sweet yet sad. Sherry floated a little closer, noticing words engraved inside the box.

“Good luck in the rescue corps! From…i can’t read that” Sherry said, she closed the box and gently put it back into the emergency kit, same with all the other fun trinkets that Yonny kept in it.

“One day I’ll learn enough of his writing to understand, but today is a day of rest.” Sherry said. She sat on the kit and closed her eyes.

There she was, facing the horrific mixture of a beady long legs and machine, she didn’t need to worry! Papa will keep everyone safe! She, alongside the others were tossed on the monstrosity’s orb, it let out a metallic scream and shook them off, the monster’s stick pivoted and moved, whistling echoed in her ears and then…

Bang

Sherry opened her eyes to a loud bang, she froze up and curled into a ball, if she could cry like she once could, she would.

Dingo was carrying Bernard and Jack on his back, he was out of breath and had clear bags under his eyes despite the leaves, he huffed and puffed and laid Bernard down.

“Is he okay?” Sherry asked, the nightmare disappearing from her mind.

“Well it’s a pretty long story, it all started when some armored cannon larve attacked us.”

(Don’t worry, Dingos side is a whole other chapter)