#I’m an adult. I don’t feel like one. I need help. but I’m feeling so goddamn out of the loop.

[sunafc]

That’s what you get for ditching me — ft. Toji Fushiguro

cw: wc 1.8k, NSFW, mdni, 18+, fem reader, fwb, toji calls the reader ‘kid’ and ‘little one’ as a pet name but the reader is very much an adult ! !, toji is obsessed with reader, mutual masturbation, a bit of spit kink, if there are typos ignore them 🙂‍↕️

To say Toji liked you was an understatement. After your first night together he wanted nothing more than to be inside you again, to taste you again, to feel your skin on his again. After a few more nights with you he got you a toothbrush to keep at his house, so you wouldn’t have to leave after the sex. One time you forgot your makeup remover and the next time he had gotten one just for you along with a box of cotton pads. Then, he dropped all his other hookups. So he didn’t just like you, he was pretty much obsessed. Toji doesn’t understand how it all happened, you entered his life and now everything is about you. Happened so quickly he didn’t even notice.

All of the things above brought him to this moment, sulking on a saturday evening alone at his house because you’re on a date with some random ass guy whose name Toji couldn’t care less to remember. He’s not jealous, he says to himself. He has no reason to be. You two are just friends and you assured him that, even if you started seeing the guy, you still wouldn’t be exclusive. So no, he’s not jealous. Toji just hopes that as you look in the guy’s ugly eyes you think of how many times you’ve complimented his green ones.

The familiar ding from your text notifications stops his overthinking and when he sees your text Toji can’t help but smirk to himself.

you: this date was shit

toji: yeah? that’s what you get for ditching me

Yeah okay, maybe he is a little jealous. Petty, too. Sometimes he makes you wonder if he really is the older one in your ‘‘relationship’’.

you: toji :(

toji: what do you want kid

you: are u home?

toji: what now you wanna come over?

you: please?

toji: ...

toji: the door’s open

toji: brat

He wishes he could show these texts to your date. A smug smile creeps on his face as he mumbles to himself how he won. He pours himself a glass of whiskey while waiting for you.

‘Can I come in?’ You ask as you open the door.

‘I’m in the kitchen,’ Toji says loud enough for you to hear from the doorway.

You make your way to him. He’s sitting on a stool at the kitchen counter, drink in hand.

You drop your purse on the floor, ‘Hey.’

‘Hey, kid,’ he eyes you, ‘All dolled up, let me see you,’ he motions you to turn around for him and you indulge him before sitting on the stool next to him.

You look amazing in your short dress, thigh highs and heels. You don’t need him to tell you so as his eyes do the talk for him. He offers you a glass which you gladly accept.

‘It was so bad, he was so bad,’ you take a sip from your glass.

Toji’s face contorts in a grimace as he imagines you with another guy. His hand moves to stroke your thigh, he needs you to know he’s there.

You complain about your date for a while as Toji smiles to himself knowing that at the end of the day he’s the one you’re going back to. He’s glad the guy was a dick and shit in bed, he doesn’t care how selfish that is of him.

‘These heels are killing me, too.’ You whine.

‘Come here,’ he slides his hand from your thigh to your ankle so he can loosen up the strap of your shoe and slip it off. He does the same with your other shoe and when he’s done his hand goes back to rest on your thigh.

You lean in to leave a quick peck to the scar at the corner of his lips, ‘Thanks, Toji.’

He fears his heart is going to burst everytime you do that, ‘You drive me insane,’ he mutters under his breath.

You giggle and give him another peck, right on his lips this time.

He grabs the stool you’re sitting on and pulls it closer to his until there’s no more space between them, his face so close to yours, ‘How about a real kiss now?’

You gulp, suddenly feeling your cheeks getting warmer. He’s leaning in slowly, your lips part on their own and he smirks against them before closing the gap completely. He grips your thigh as you bite his bottom lip, his other hand grabs your jaw and as he forces your mouth open, he slips his tongue in. Toji loves your lips. He thinks they were made just to be kissed, by him specifically. It didn’t matter if you were wearing liptstick, lip gloss or chapstick, he would kiss you anyway. You pull on his hair to move his face away from yours, in need of air. You’re both panting but Toji doesn’t seem to be bothered by it and soon his lips are on yours again. He’s addicted, he feels like he could live off of your kisses. You, on the other hand, you really do need air.

You pull his head again, ‘Wait,’ you puff, ‘Give me a moment, Toji.’

You're breathless, your lipstick is all smudged. Toji thinks you look stunning like this. He stands from his stool, picks you up and sits you on the counter. His hands travel with faint touches on your thighs, then under your dress. Your skin burns under his touch. He kisses your neck, leaving marks behind them. His hands grab your ass as he sucks on your skin at the base of your neck. A whimper escapes your lips and Toji smiles smugly against you. He gently slides the straps of your dress off of your shoulders, sending shivers down your body. He’s doing everything so painfully slow, you’re getting impatient. You’re starting to squirm under his every touch. He holds your face with one hand and kisses you. With the other hand he unfastens your bra and then moves to massaging your boobs, fingers playing with one nipple then the other. You’re gripping his tshirt, pulling him closer. He breaks the kiss and lowers himself to leave more kisses to your chest, this time. He licks one of your nipple then sucks on your boob. More whimpers leave your lips as you feel his tongue on your skin, warm and wet. His fingers ghost over your skin failing to ever really touch you. You can feel yourself getting wetter and wetter. He’s playing with you and you know it. You move to unbuckle his belt.

‘Eager, little one?’ He teases you. His hand under your dress, grazing your inner tight, so close to where you’d like it to be but not quiet there yet.

You unzip his pants, ‘Quit playing,’ you let them fall to the ground and you palm his erection through his boxers, ‘Need more.’

‘Ask nicely,’ his thumb brushes over your clit and your body follows his hands in search for more.

‘Please, Toji,’ you say.

‘Mhm,’ he kisses your jaw, ‘Please what?’

You slip your hand in his boxer and curl your finger around his cock, making him groan in return, ‘Please touch me.’

He lifts your dress up and then slips it off of you completely. His hand moves in your underwear and his fingers glide between your folds. He slips a finger inside your cunt and, at the same time his thumb starts massaging your clit, he slips another digit in.

‘Were you this wet for him, too?’ He asks continuing to play with your body, making you moan nonstop.

You shake your head.

His fingers keep curling inside you, ‘Did he touch you like this?’, he hits the right spot again and again, a loud cry comes out of your lips, ‘Did he touch you how you like to be touched?’

You shake your head frantically trying to remain concentrated on stroking his dick but really, the only thing on your mind, is how his long fingers fill you up. How he really knows what you like and how you like it.

He holds your jaw, ‘Answer me with words, Y/n.’

‘N–No,’ you’re panting and there’s drool coming out of your mouth.

‘I know your body better than anyone,’ Toji whispers in your hear.

You grind on his fingers, ‘Even better than me.’

That strikes something inside of him and in a second his lips clash with yours, kissing you feverishly as he toys with your clit and his digits keep moving in and out of you in a rush. He bites your bottom lip and you can feel his hand all over your body as with the other one he curls his finger to reach that specific spot inside of you. Your body shakes in pleasure. You’re making all kinds of sounds and Toji is eating every single one of them as he moves his lips on yours.

‘Aw, doll,’ Toji says, ‘Already coming?’

‘S—shut up,’ you mutter under your breath.

Your hand on his cock gets slower as you feel yourself getting closer and closer to your climate. Toji doesn’t mind the way you’re starting to neglet him, right now he’s only interested in making you feel good, to remind you he’s the best fuck you’ll ever have no matter how many other guy you sleep with. He licks the saliva that’s sliding down your chin and leaves more wet kisses along your jaw and neck. You’re catching your breath, mouth agape. Toji loves when you’re breathless and disheveled because of him. He wishes he could take a picture of you right now, the lipstick that was on your lips is barely visible now, your hair is a mess, your cunt filled by his fingers, one hand gripping his tshirt and the other around his dick. You look perfect like this. He slips his thumb in your mouth, keeping it open, he presses down on your tongue and spits inside. It wasn’t the first time he did that but it still took you by surprise. Your fingers on his cock stop altogether and you look at him confused, you swallowed it nonetheless.

‘Don’t make that face, kid,’ he grazes your cheek with his thumb still damp from your mouth, ‘I know your dying wish is to be baptized in my spit.’

Your eyes widen and your cunt clamp thight on his fingers, a broken cry comes out of you as you finally reach your high.

Toji brings his fingers to his mouth and licks the cum off of them, ‘You’re so filthy,’ he smirks, ‘Cumming from that.’

You avoid his gaze feeling ashamed and Toji smiles.

‘Don’t get shy on me now,’ he rubs his tip against your clit, ‘We’re not done yet.’

notes: the ‘i know your dying with is to be baptized in my spit’ is actually lyrics from the song ‘funeral gray’ by waterparks ! !

#jjk #jjk x reader #jjk smut #toji #toji smut #toji fushiguro #toji x reader #toji fushiguro x reader #toji fushiguro smut #minors dni #jujutsu kaisen smut #jujutsu kaisen x reader #jujutsu kaisen

[sheisjoeschateau]

"Oh, so we DO love Steve..." | Part X

⋆⁺₊⋆ ☾⋆⁺₊⋆ SERIES MASTERLIST ⋆⁺₊⋆ ☾⋆⁺₊⋆

Steve Harrington x Bauman!fem!reader enemies to lovers, heavy angst, hurt/comfort, upside down mayhem, S2-S4, post S4 universe hot-take, end-of-the-world / dystopian setting, ugly fights turned smut (...but with hella plot). 18+

CHAPTER X WARNINGS/NOTES: t.w.'s - strong language, more angst, mention of dr*g abuse during childhood trauma, mentions of death and injuries, Max in a coma, fearful tears, shared sadness, major end-of-the-world terror talk. 18+

AUTHOR'S NOTE: As we dive deeper into just how in love Steve and Bauman continue to fall...we also dive deeper into darkness.

We get a glimpse into the childhood past of Bauman Squared.

Steve finally gets to laugh again with his kids -- and with the girl he wants to have his own kids with one day.

Dr. Owens comes back, but it's not why they expected. Erica is given the hardest burden of all. Robin & Eddie are the whacky aunt and uncle that everyone needed and basically get shit back on track while being thrown hard news. Argyle is actually just a kind dude. Nancy is pulling away, while Jonathan finally feels the gut-punching gravity of what he is losing. Jopper is still carrying the weight of both worlds.

And surprise, b*tches: DIMITRI IS BACK AND BOY IS HE SOOO BACK.

Lastly: chicken nuggets. That is all.

WHILE THIS IS A FANFICTION STORY: IT IS STILL MY WRITING. PLEASE RIGHTFULLY CREDIT ME WHEN REPOSTING OR SHARING. I DO NOT GRANT YOU PERMISSION TO POST MY WRITING AS YOUR OWN. - MISHA @sheisjoeschateau PROOFREAD UNTIL MY EYES BLED. IF THERE ARE STILL TYPOS, SORRY BOUT IT. 18+

⋆⁺₊⋆ ☾⋆⁺₊⋆⋆⁺₊⋆ ☾⋆⁺₊⋆⋆⁺₊⋆ ☾⋆⁺₊⋆⋆⁺₊⋆ ☾⋆⁺₊⋆⋆⁺₊⋆ ☾⋆⁺₊⋆⋆⁺₊⋆ ☾⋆⁺₊⋆⋆⁺₊⋆ ☾⋆⁺₊⋆

OH SO WE DO LOVE STEVE | Chapter X

“Why do I feel like this is some sort of twisted intervention?”

Erica Sinclair stood in the kitchen next to Murray as he cooked up something to share with a table of adults and teens — plus her.

“In a way, it is,” Murray responded to her as he stirred his ingredients. 

“...okayyyy,” Erica sassed, suspiciously.  “...then why do you want me here but not my brother or my other friends?”

Murray rolled his eyes.  Erica’s attitude was truly the one thing that could bring Murray’s entire mental empire crumbling down like a tower of cards being blown over by a gust of wind.  He pointed his spatula in her direction.

“Think of it this way, kiddo,” he said through a wry, condescending smirk.  “It’s like getting invited to sit at the adults’ table instead of the kids’ table for thanksgiving.  And you’re the only one we’re inviting before you get to go up there and hang out with your little friends.  Alright?”

Erica narrowed her eyes.  “What do I need to know that they don’t?”

Sauce dripped from the spatula as he stared at her.  Christ, she was relentless.  Then again…at least she seemed somewhat perturbed by the idea of knowing things before her brother and their friends.  That was pretty damn selfless for Erica Sinclair.  She cocked an eyebrow at Murray — who squinted back at her.

“Okay, why are you not as willing about this as I thought you’d be…”

“Look,” Erica said, crossing her arms.  “If I’m going to be made to keep a secret?  I need to know all the facts first.  Especially if I have to keep it from my brother.  And Steve.  And Bauman.”

Murray sighed through his nose.  She was right.  Mature, and right.

“I don’t want you to keep it a secret for good,” Murray clarified, speaking slowly.  “I just — we just need you to be made aware of some things before we bring it to everyone else’s attention.  And truth be told?  Harrington needs a break.  So does my niece.  And your friends?  They need some time with mom and dad.  You do, too.  But right now?  You’re the party member in charge of taking on some big information before we spread it to the rest of them.  And quite frankly?  I’m counting on you to help me — and the rest of us — help break it to them.  Got it?”

Erica let all of that land, her guarded expression softening into one of civil understanding.  She pursed her lips, considering this.  Finally, she nodded.

“Alright.  Deal.”

Murray shot her a thumbs up, resuming his cooking.

“That’s really lumpy,” Erica pointed to his saucepan with a soured expression.

“Ohforheaven'ssake —”

__________________________

Robin had taken on laundry duty on Steve’s behalf, knowing that Jonathan intended to talk with him.  Which is why she’d asked Nancy to help her with it, and it has turned out to be a good thing.

Nancy was clearly fraying at the seams.  There was a lot going through her mind, and it was all spiraling fast.  She needed someone to talk to, but none of her options seemed safe. 

She had no idea how or when to break everything she had been feeling to Steve. 

Her relationship with Jonathan was so tense and strained, any conversation shared with him had just blown up. 

And her mom would need to know everything about the upside down, in order to give her proper advice…and at this rate, that option seemed to have no place in this world. 

She couldn’t go to Joyce, because that’s Jonathan’s mom. 

Hopper and Murray were out of the question. 

She wasn’t close enough with Eddie to even consider it. 

And Argyle?  Well, he’d said about as much as he could say.  Far more than what she’d expected, if she was being honest.  

Nancy’s only other option was Robin Buckley.

“God, I swear — the air’s a disease at this point.”

Robin had sat next to Nancy on the porch, carrying the laundry basket.  Nancy quickly wiped a few stray tears, which Robin pretended not to notice – even when Nancy shot her a very forced, tight-lipped grin.

“Yeah,” Nancy chuckled wetly.  “It’s uhh, yeah.  Plagued at this point.  Thanks, Vecna.”

Robin nodded with a smirk.  “Yeah.  Thanks a lot, Vecna.  Fuck you, man.”

That made Nancy giggle, which Robin was grateful to see.  She decided to start off slow, not wanting to force anything.  After all, clearly Nancy was clearly going through it.  And the way she and Robin had started off?  Not great.  Buckley was definitely not trying to push her luck.  Sure, the two of them had gotten along super well as time passed, truly becoming friends while living in Steve’s house.  But they weren’t exactly best friends.  Friends for sure.  But not like Nancy and Barb had been.  Not even close.

“You know,” Robin mused.  “Sometimes, I think back to high school and how…I never really had a best friend while I was there.  Not like you did.”

That made Nancy turn to look at her, curiosity radiating for her bright blue eyes.

“You and Barb,” Robin explained.  “You two were thick as thieves.  She always made sure to take extra notes in Click’s class for you.”

Nancy’s eyes shone with melancholy fondness.  “She did…?”

“Yeah,” Robin smiled.  “Always.  Saved them on little flashcards and everything.  She was always like, ‘I gotta make sure I get this for Nance.’  Or whenever something crazy went down in the classroom, I could tell she was just itching to tell you about during lunch or after school.”

Nancy beamed at that.  She shook her head, grinning widely.  “God, I swear… Barb was like — like that little old lady who couldn’t help but wanna gossip.  Even though she hated drama, she loved it at the same time.  As long as it wasn’t hers or ours.”

“That totally tracks,” Robin snorted.  “What an icon, really.”

“Schyeah,” Nancy giggled wholeheartedly.  “Yeah, she…she was the best.”

Robin watched as Nancy gnawed at her lip, feeling the wave of sadness wash over her.  

“I just wish…” Nancy murmured, voice shaky.  “Just wish that I could…talk to her sometimes, you know?  Not just to tell her how sorry I am.  For everything that happened before she…”

Nancy’s voice trailed off.  Robin dared to reach over and touch her shoulder, relieved when Nancy didn’t push her away or tense underneath her touch.

“I just wanna ask her questions,” Nancy’s voice shook.  “So many questions, like…like the way we used to.  As best friends.  About — everything.  Life, family, love…friends…the end of the fucking world…”

Robin nodded.  “Yeah.  Yeah, I know.”

Because Robin did know.  Whenever she had become best friends with Steve, it had made her world significantly brighter.  Her heart was full, and her soul had been lifted out of its constant anxiety-ridden state.  Robin had been so closed off to bonding with anyone, especially the likes of Steve Harrington.  Little did she know, that guy would end up being her truest best friend and confidant.  The one she could lean on, tell anything to and count on for the rest of her life.  However short that might be, given the end of the world… But she had Steve by her side, trusting him with every secret she had and her literal life in his hands.  

Barb had been that for Nancy.  But she was gone.

“I don’t know what to do,” Nancy’s voice cracked.  She looked over at Robin with tear rimmed eyes, fighting them from falling as she bit down on her trembling lip.  “About…anything.”

Robin kept listening, wanting so badly to go on a rant but willing herself not to.  Because right now, it’s Nancy who needs to rant.  She needed to ramble until she couldn’t anymore.

“I’ve been so…God, I’ve been so in love with Jonathan since we met and…got through all of this together.  It just…just...worked.  Clicked, made sense.  Way more sense than Steve, but — but Steve and I, we…what we had was…it was real.  Really real.  Even Barb saw it, she just — just didn’t want me getting hurt, or…losing myself for a guy.  But I didn’t really.  Steve never pushed me to do anything that I didn’t wanna do, or…wasn’t ready for.  Ever.  Not once.  He was kind to me, and…and I feel like…like I just… I think I’m the one who did wrong by him.  Not the other way around.  All because I just felt so…lost, and conflicted, and scared, and unsure, and…and…”

Nancy curled in on herself, tears falling down her cheeks as she ducked her face out of sight.  But Robin scooched closer to her, enveloping her into a comforting embrace as she wept.  And Nancy let her, allowing herself to lean against her.

“I told him what we had was bullshit and it wasn’t,” Nancy cried bitterly.  “It wasn’t, he's not -- I was just…so fucking mad that Barb was gone.  And it was easier to blame Steve, all because he wasn’t hurting the way that I was.  The way that I still am.  But that’s — that’s n-not — b-because he d-doesn’t…c-care…”  

Nancy’s shoulders convulsed, and Robin’s heart broke for her as she held her tighter.

“B-but Jonathan had lost Will, so h-he…he got it.  H-he knew wh-what I was…going through… And I-I j-just felt...so r-right with him.  Because l-looking at him didn’t remind me of…of…”

Nancy choked on a sob.  

Robin knew she meant Barb.  She didn’t have to say it.

“I’m angry.  For me, for Barb, for Steve, for Jonathan…my mom, dad, Mike…everyone.  All the time.  And I just d-don’t know what to do, because…Jonathan shut me o-out, and w-wanted to b-break up with m-me all because he felt like…he was…holding me back, and wouldn’t just t-talk…to me…and then S-Steve… Steve, h-he wanted me back b-but now…h-he…he loves…he loves…”

Nancy ugly cried into her palms, muffling the noise so that it wouldn’t be heard from anyone inside.  Robin clung to her, rocking them back and forth with some gentle, soothing shushes.

“He loves her, Robin,” Nancy cried, heartbreak and anguish lacing her voice.  “He loves her, and s-she loves him back.  S-so much…b-better than I d-did…and I…I should be…so h-happy for him.  And h-her, but I just…I just…wonder if I…did I…did I m-mess up…?  Did I lose the p-person I was s-supposed to b-be with?  I just didn’t…think he’d…move on…and that’s so…fucking SELFISH of me…”

Robin squeezed her.  “It’s not selfish.  It’s human.  Steve is amazing.  But Nancy…it’s okay that you didn’t go back to him.”

“But you thought I should,” Nancy leaned back now.  She looked at Robin dead in the eye with bloodshot, red rimmed eyes.  They swam in regrets, sorrows and bitterness.

“You and Eddie both thought that we should,” she said, voice croaked and upset.  “Y-you both…thought that we…shouldn’t have…broken up, or…”

“You’re right,” Robin admitted, feeling bad but deciding it was best to just own up to it.  “You’re right, I did.  We did.  Me and Eddie.  But Nancy…sometimes we’re just so distracted by what seems right…that we can’t see what’s actually right in front of us.”

Nancy looked at her quizzically.  Robin sighed.

“Look, when you left Steve,” Robin explained, taking her hand into both of hers.  “Back in senior year, and you got with Jonathan…you two had your own journey.  You had each other.  Steve?  Steve had no one during his — except for the kids…and Bauman.  Because back then, he didn’t know yet.  He didn’t know about her and Murray intervening —”

“Yeah, I know,” Nancy said bitterly.  “We all know that now.”

“Just hear me out,” Robin pleaded with her softly.  “I promise, I’m with you, alright?”

Nancy stared at her for a moment, finally softening her tense jaw and nodding once.  Robin picked back up, on cue.

“Steve still had a lot of growing up to do.  On his own.  Dustin was the first to reach out to him.  Well, he basically forced himself on Steve.  And Steve needed that.  He’s an only child.  He needed a little brother to give him grief, and boss him around and pick on him.  You have Mike.  Steve didn’t have that until Dustin wormed his way into his life." Robin added with a smile, " ...and his heart.”

Nany thought about that, expression pensive with realization.

“Then Bauman came along,” Robin continued.  “She was Steve’s age… You and Jonathan were off with the adults.  He got left behind to watch the kids with her.  They went through…a lot of shit that night.  You did, too.  But so did they.  They fought off Billy Hargrove.  They protected the kids, fought off the demodogs in the tunnels.  They survived the night together.  You know what that feels like.  You and Jonathan bonded that way.  Right?”

Nancy hesitates but looks back at her, sniffing.  Eventually, she nods again.

“Right," Robin exhales deeply, proceeding. "So Steve… Steve had someone his age to be around, along with the kids.  And that was great.  Because she’s independent and badass, but also really chill and down to earth.  Like, some sort of femme tomboy.  Which Steve lowkey kind of needed, she really was exactly what --"

“Robin, I get it,” Nancy snapped, not wanting to hear about you in a complimentary way.  At least not at this moment.

“No, hear me out,” Robin insisted, giving her hands another squeeze.  “You need to hear this, Nancy, alright?  You know you’re beautiful.  You know Steve has been helplessly in love with you for years.  That’s not even a question.”  

Robin paused, shifting gears again as she refused to let Nancy look away from her.  

“...but Steve had to move on.  Or…find ways to convince himself that he could.  And Bauman?  She was there for that.  She was around, during all his growth.  And trust me – it was ugly.  You have nothing to envy there.  God, the way that they argued?  The way Steve talked to her, honestly?  Honestly.  You would’ve slapped him.  I sure as hell did a few times.  Mostly verbal slapping.  But I hit him a few times, not gonna lie.  You’ve seen the highlights of Steve’s growth.  You have seen the best parts of him, but…but Bauman was there for all of it.  She got to see it all happen in real time, from the second you and Jonathan met back up with them to right now.  And she owned up to her shit, too.  It wasn’t her fault, by no means was it her fault.  But hey, she took the hits.  Many times.  And she still ended up falling in love with Steve, who she swore was the last person who would ever win her over.  Those two knuckleheads were relentless whenever I came into the picture.  Fighting like lovers in a quarrel with absolutely zero history of affection to show for it.  But still, they got through shit together.  They put their differences aside for the kids, and when it came to fighting off the Russians?  She and Steve honestly kept me so sane.  And they kept us safe, too.  Me, Dustin and Erica.  They didn’t get along in the real world, but in the upside down world?  They did.  They didn’t even think twice.  Steve grew into a way better person because of her.  And she opened up a lot more because of him, and the kids.  She didn’t grow up with siblings either.  That’s another thing they have in common.”

Nancy took all of that in with a solemn expression.  Robin let that sink in before continuing.

“I know this is…a lot.  But really, Nancy…so much happened while you were gone.  Those two fell in love over time without even knowing it.  Shit, we didn’t know it either.  That was a plot twist for all of us — including Murray.  Despite what he says, that guy does not know everything.”

Nancy scoffed.  “I know that.”

“Of course you do.  We all do.  He does, too.  Especially now.  Now that his niece and Steve are clearly so head over heels in love with one another.”

Nancy’s heart sank at that.  She knew that it was true.

“I’m not…” Nancy mumbled, eyes downcast.  “I’m not mad at her for falling in love with him.  Or him.  I just…can’t help but wonder if I messed up.  Missed out on someone that I loved more than I allowed myself to when we were together.”

“You couldn’t have loved him more back then, Nancy,” Robin corrected her.  “Because who he was then, is not who he is now.  And who he is now is someone that Bauman has played a huge role in him becoming.”

Nancy sniffed a few times, bringing her knees to her chest and lost in thought.

“Do you still love Jonathan?”

Nancy looked at her, surprised.  “What?”

“Tell me what you’re feeling there,” Robin pressed gently.  “Why is that going wrong again?”

Nancy got defensive.  “Um, what’s wrong is that he clearly planned on leaving me while I was back here being loyal to him.”

“Right,” Robin mused.  “But…what about after he got back?  What happened then?”

Nancy opened her mouth to speak, but couldn’t.  She thought about that for a while.

“We just…” she started.  “...we just…moved past it.  We let it go.”

Robin nodded slowly.  “After all you two have been through…knowing damn well that things need to be talked about…you both really thought that was best?”

“He doesn’t ever tell me how he actually feels,” Nancy snapped.  “I’m so sick of it.  I always have to push him to tell me things.  He just — shuts me out.  Clams up, retreats.  He won’t even tell me when he’s upset about something unless I make him.”

“Well then,” Robin nods.  “That’s definitely on him.  But what about you?”

Nancy scrunches her face in confusion.  

“Why didn’t you tell him how you felt either?” Robin asks, unblinking.

Nancy stares at her, not knowing how to answer that.

“I told him that I love him,” Nancy whispers.  “And that I…that we’re fine.”

Robin’s expression softens.  “Do you wanna be?”

Nancy’s face crumbles.  “I…I want…”

Robin waits, not knowing what to expect but knowing that it’s getting somewhere.  

“I want him to love me again,” Nancy cries in despair.  “I want him to fight for me, and — and love me the way that I thought that he did.  That he would.  That he always would —”

Robin holds Nancy again as she convulses with sobs in her arms.  They stay that way for a little while, allowing the dust to settle.  Nancy has said enough for now.  It would all unravel itself more over time. 

Meanwhile, Eddie had told Jonathan to make his way upstairs and talk with Steve.

“You’re on, buddy boy,” Eddie told him with a hard pat on the back.  

So while Jonathan made peace with Steve, Nancy had finally released some of her emotions and confided in Robin.

And now, all the adults were in the kitchen as Murray made some food for the older teens and Erica.  They’d asked Robin and Eddie to make sure that Argyle, Jonathan and Nancy were all going to be present for it, along with Erica before she could go upstairs and join the kids.

So here they all were now: sitting at the dinner table while Murray and Erica served them up plates and bowls of random foods.  

Jonathan had watched Nancy make her way into the kitchen with Robin, newly fresh faced and eyes puffy from crying.  She wore her pajamas now, having taken a quick shower and washing off the anguish from her meltdown earlier.  Jonathan’s heart cracked in two, and it did even more as Nancy went to sit next to Robin.  He stood up, unable to help himself.

“I got you a seat here,” he said, voice shaky.

Nancy had looked over at him, eyes cold and expression blank.

“That’s alright,” she said, voice level and cool.  “We share a room.”

Nancy sat next to Robin, demeanor cool and calm and collected.  She was stiff, but there was a chilling resilience to her that Jonathan had not seen in a while.  It terrified him, making his anxiety spike.  Had he lost her?  Was he too late?

He swallowed hard, accepting it — given everyone else at the table.  Hopper had awkwardly reached for some pepper as this was happening, working in slow motion as he felt really uncomfortable.  So Jonathan just nodded, and Joyce gave him a sympathetic look as she placed glasses of water and tea in front of everyone.

Eddie made concerned eye contact with Robin as he poured himself some water.  Yikes.

“I’ll sit next to you, my dude,” Argyle said warmly, knowing he needed to step in.  Jonathan was grateful for that, but still dying inside as he kept stealing glances at Nancy — who looked anywhere except his way.

Murray clicked his tongue loudly. “Alrighty then. Shall we?”

With a thud, he set down his plate. Joyce clenched her jaw but took a deep breath.

“Lay it on us,” Eddie said with a deep exhale, sitting down on the other side of Argyle. 

“Yeah, what’s this pow-wow and why is it just this group who's on it?” Erica questioned as she stationed herself on the other side of Robin. 

“Right,” Hopper sighed before shoveling a mouthful of mashed potatoes into his mouth and leaning back to chew, readying himself. Everyone waited patiently.

“Here’s the deal,” he began, leaning forward and eyeing everyone individually as he spoke. “No one here is being made to keep a secret. That’s not what’s going on.”

“So then why is it private?” Robin asked curiously. 

“Because right now…we need to set some things straight. Set in stone.  Before we dive into our group meeting tomorrow. Consider this…a board meeting of sorts.”

Jonathan furrowed his brow. “Don’t we want Bauman and Steve for that?”

Hopper sighed deeply, rubbing at his beard. “This affects them. And the kids.”

Eddie raised his eyebrows at that, feeling nervous. He looked over at Robin, who looked just as worried.

Erica scrunched her face up. “Then why am I here?…”

“Because I need one of you kids to be level headed and vouch for me,” Hopper explained. “And for Joyce and Murray. We’ve spent a lot of time figuring this out. Weighed out our options, talked to El about it.”

“Does she know?” Nancy asked.

“Some,” Hopper nodded. “Most… Not all.”

Erica leaned forward, truly listening and accepting that she was clearly going to need to stick with some sort of plan that her friends were not going to be keen on…

Hopper contemplated his next words carefully.

“Look. Tonight, I need those kids to rest. To laugh, play some card games. Eat too much candy, and just have a good night. Soak up all the fun they can get before this mandate goes into effect soon. And before we have to go forward with a plan.”

Hopper made sure that everyone was with him on that.  Off their nods, he continued.

“There’s two groups. One that’ll stay here, in hiding. Down in the basement, where we’ve already started making up basecamp. They’ll have to stay hidden.  Out of sight.  Quiet.  On high alert.  It’s a gamble.  Just because they’ll be home…it doesn’t guarantee them any safety.”

Hopper took a deep breath, eyes filled with dread.  He rubbed at the gap between his pinched brows.

“…the other group will have to risk getting back out there.  And we won’t be anywhere that’s not swarmed and completely surrounded by the government and — god-knows-who-else, before we can get ourselves back near the largest gate that’s torn itself open and is ready to swallow Hawkins.”

Everyone’s blood ran cold. 

No one was safe. They weren’t before, but now? Nothing was off the table. Everything was high risk, no matter where anyone was stationed.

“If you’re sitting here,” Hopper continued slowly, voice grave, “at this table, listening to this conversation…minus Erica and Murray...you’re in Group 2. ”

Nancy and Jonathan both felt their chests constrict, but they understood. It didn’t surprise them per se. And at this point, nothing should scare them. But it did.

Joyce looked at her eldest son, torn but knowing it had to be done.

Erica looked over at Murray, who gave her a soft nod.

Robin and Eddie looked at each other, along with Argyle, shuddering. 

“Dimitri is going with us,” Hopper added.

“Who’s he?” Jonathan asked.

“Russian soldier,” Joyce told him, holding up a hand to clarify. “He’s on our side.”

Jonathan hesitated but eventually gave her a small nod. He looked over at Nancy, who was staring down at the table with her teeth sunk into her bottom lip.

“He’s got insight,” Hopper continued. “Knows what we’re dealing with, and how to handle what we’re all up against.  We’ll need as many of us as we can get out there.  Those of us who know the risks, and know how to navigate this world.”

Robin processed that, thinking. “So that…where does that leave Steve and Bauman?”

Hopper was quiet. The way he gnawed his cheek made it clear that this was where it got messy.

“Steve is on the frontlines with us,” Hopper explained carefully. “…and Bauman is stationed back here with Murray and the kids, along with Dr. Owens.”

Robin’s heart sank, and so did Eddie’s. They both shared a sad, all-knowing look.  They knew this wasn’t going to go well.  At all. They knew that Steve was going to flip his shit at just the idea of leaving you out of his sight.

“Won’t Dr. Owens have a target on his back?” Eddie asked, concerned. “Won’t that — won’t that draw more danger here…?”

That made Robin look at Hopper, wide-eyed. The retired cop looked pale, eyes full of dread.

“He has to be here in case anything happens to Bauman or Max,” he explains solemnly. “Because if shit goes south here…they’ll need to run.”

Jonathan felt sick.  This also meant leaving Will behind.  “But…how? How can they run?”

“That’s where I come in,” Murray chimes in. “Between me and Erica and Dustin, we’ll be able to keep a close eye out for a signal — which Will can help us navigate.”

“Because he’s still connected to it all,” Joyce explains sadly.  “He still…feels it. He senses when it’s near.”

“Which is why he’ll be able to give us a warning,” Murray nods, adding to Joyce’s input. “Since El has to be out there with you guys, we’ll still have a connected source that's here with us.”

“The kids can’t do this,” Hopper adds, tone firm. “Not this time.  El doesn’t count, as much as I want her to stay back.  She can’t.  I know that.” He looks at Erica with parental eyes.  “But as far as the rest of you kids go?  No more.  It’s already bad enough having to risk you all staying here.  But if this is how it’s gotta go down?  You’re staying where there’s a controlled space, with 2-3 solid abort mission plans — which Murray knows from top to bottom.”

Erica hangs her head, but she nods. She knows this makes sense. 

“As for Bauman,” Hopper continues, eyes sad. “She’s not able to get back out there. Between her heart issues and her bad shoulder and ribs…she has to stay put.”

“No, I agree with that,” Robin says, voice full of gravel before she clears it. “But, umm…I’m just…really worried that…well it’s just — Steve, he’s um, he’s —”

“He’s going to have to do this,” Hopper interjects, but not unkindly. In fact, it’s full of empathy and remorse. “He knows the ways. You’ll all need him. His stamina, his strength. He’s strong, good with a bat and can outrun shit.  He also knows what to keep an eye out for, whatever comes our way.”

Eddie gulps, partially because he’s terrified about facing the underworld again…but also because he knows that Steve will be a wreck the entire time he’s gone with them and not with you. And if Eddie’s being honest, the idea of leaving you and the kids behind is killing him too. He’s especially grown to love you and Dustin over the last year.

“This isn’t open for discussion,” Hopper says, voice firmer and tone low.  “Tomorrow, when we have our living room meeting, I’ll be conveying this to everyone…along with Murray and Joyce.  And I need to know I have each and every one of you on our side.  Those kids are going to raise hell.  All of them are.  And this plan is not changing.  It’s either this…or we all stay hunkered down until we rot.  Am I making myself clear?”

Nancy and Jonathan nodded first, quickly followed by Robin and Eddie.

“Yes sir,” Argyle spoke first, and for the first time he genuinely looked aware of just how heavy all of this stuff really is.  Jonathan gave his shoulder a quick squeeze.

“Erica,” Hopper was looking directly at the youngest person sitting across the table.  “I’m counting on you.  I know that’s not fair, but I am.  You’re tough as nails.  You’re gonna have to be that way with your brother, and his friends.  Your friends.  You'll have to be hard...but gentle enough to get it through to him.  I don’t care what you gotta do, you do it.  Whatever you have to say?  Say it.  And if anybody gives you shit for knowing this before they did…send them to me.  Understood?”

Erica looked back at Hopper with the most somber expression.  But she nodded.

“Understood,” she said, voice low.

Hopper gave her a curt nod before looking over at the older teens.

“As for you guys,” he said.  “We all know the shit that just went down yesterday at the fence.  Bauman’s always been at the frontlines with us.  She can’t be now.  And Steve cannot hang back.  He’s got too much strength that we can’t afford to not have on our side of this battle.  And I don’t care if Bauman insists she can do it.  She can’t, and she won’t.”

“And if she gets stubborn,” Murray interjects, voice fierce.  “Tell me.  If she tries pulling a fast one?  You tell me.  Capiche?”

Eddie and Robin quickly nod up and down.

“I’ll talk to him if it gets bad,” Jonathan says in a weak voice.

Nancy narrows her eyes at him.  Since when do he and Steve talk?

“Good,” Joyce says with a sad, tight-lipped grin and nod at her son.  “He’ll need it.”

"I'll be there for him, too," Robin nodded at Jonathan.

“Will we be able to stay in contact with them at least?” Eddie asks pathetically.  “Via the walkies?”

“When necessary...yes,” Hopper confirms.  “We’ll have to be scarce about it.  Selective.  Nowhere is safe.  It’ll have to be reserved for vital communication only.”

Eddie frowned, but nodded in understanding.  Robin was currently biting her palm, consumed with dread and sickening anxiety.  Leaving you behind?  The kids?  Even Murray, who everyone had come to appreciate in their own weird sort of way — mostly because of how much they all loved you.  He was an extension of you.  The whole situation just felt…fucked.

But wasn’t everything fucked?  Wasn’t this entire world so catostrophically fucked in every single which way, seemingly irreparable?  

Was there actually an end to this nightmare?  A world in which the upside down would cease to exist…monsters would go back to their storybooks and dark, twisted fairy tales…the moon would only ever symbolize light within forgotten darkness...and the sun would never hide behind the ashy debris that currently clung to the air, just outside their windows?

Despite how everything looked grim, with seemingly no end in sight…you all persisted in choosing to believe.  Yes.  Yes, this was going to end.

The end of the world was nearing.  It was inevitable.

But it wouldn’t be your world.

***

You never really put much thought into what having a family would feel like one day.

You’d wondered.  Every little girl does.  In young girlhood, there’s the beauty of innocence that protectively surrounds all grown-up dreams that fuel your wildest imagination.  The dreams of never having to go to school, and being in charge of everything you want.  The dreams of being able to eat whatever you want, whenever you want.  The dreams of meeting your future husband, and getting to wear a big white, sparkly ballgown as you walk down the aisle to your happily ever after.  The dreams of being a princess in a big castle, ruling the land and having cake for breakfast, lunch and dinner, and tea parties everyday with your friends.

Sure, you’d had those dreams as a little girl.  How could you not?  It was inevitable.

But as you grew older, you didn’t really have a chance to fantasize about much.  You’d been made to grow up from a very young age.  Your grandmother had been there for you enough.  She kept a roof over your head.  Food on the table.  A very generous allowance, even though you never asked for one and you’d gotten yourself a job by the age of 13 painting peoples’ houses and doing yard work.  You’d even gotten hired by your uncle to do data entry for him, along with a couple of his contacts who did intense investigative research and needed someone to work remotely.  You earned your own living, and you did upkeep on your grandmother’s house — despite her never asking you to do so.  She was gone a lot.  She wasn’t very old.  Just a smoker who liked casinos and taking trips with her “friend” from time to time.  A woman, who she only ever referred to as her "assistant."  You knew better than to believe that, but you never said anything about it.  She was a closeted lesbian — which is why Robin coming out of the closet for you had been the easiest news to take, let alone support.  Your grandmother was a tough, long-acrylic-nails-donning boss bitch who did whatever the hell she wanted.  You’d gone with her many times to some casino resorts, mostly staying in the hotel room or just walking around the city.  It felt like living with a Mafia Mobwife.  It was cool, for the most part.  But it definitely meant being able to hold your own.  She’d raised herself when she was a kid — and in most ways, you did too.

It’s why you’d spent so much time with your uncle, who didn’t live very far.  He was home a lot.  Given his line of work, he didn’t go out much.  He became even more of a hermit as the years went on, and you liked that.  It meant consistency.  His spare room basically became your room.  It couldn’t exactly be considered a “guest room” when he never had guests over.  You’re the only person he invited over for company, and he loved it.  The two of you got along effortlessly.  His dark humor rubbed off on you early on, which your grandmother shared in but she wasn’t nearly as quick-witted as Murray.  That’s where you got it from.  But your dry, snarky wit was much more selectively timed than his.  He was all over the place.  You had solid social cues, given that you went to school and were around people often.  Your uncle was definitely an oddball.  But you loved him to death, and you got him better than anyone else did.

You weren’t babied.  You weren’t coddled, or sheltered, or given false hope about the world.  It’s why you held your own, and it’s also why you never victimized yourself.  It was to a fault, but you believed it was for the best.

So when Clark broke your heart into a million pieces, you told yourself it had been a risk from the start.  A gamble, just like the poker tables at those casinos that your grandmother frequented all the time.  Love was a dangerous game, and it spared no one.  There were winners and losers — and you’d lost this one.

But right now, in this moment, you felt as though you had just won every single jackpot that there was to win.  

Because right now, you were sitting in Steve’s lap on the floor of Max’s room in his big house, holding cards closely to your chest as Lucas screeched GO FISH at Dustin.  Steve’s hand was in plain sight, and if you were a cheater you’d have him beat in seconds.  But you didn’t need to win a stupid card game…because you had won the greatest game of all: life.

El and Mike were cuddled up close to each other, giggling and being young teens in love.  In a normal world, you would assume it to be puppy love between them.  But this world wasn’t normal, and the shit that they’d been through together wasn’t any different than what you and Steve had been through together.  It was real love, and you let them be that way.

Lucas was seated next to Max in her bed, holding her hand and laughing like a kid again.  Dustin was hoarding all of the candy from his backpack (so much for sharing) and laughing like a buffoon.  He bickered with Steve and the kids as usual, but something about it was just so…bright.  Hearty laughter bounced off the walls, and there were so many times that Steve had belly laughed — along with you and the other kids — that you’d all lost count.

Sometimes, you swore that you saw Max’s lips twitch.  As if she could hear you all in her coma, wanting to laugh along with everybody.  Lucas would talk to her as if she could hear you all just fine, squeezing her hand and kissing her forehead while showing her his hand in cards.  Dustin even gave her a sleeve of her favorite candy — just for her.  He might not have basic manners with the rest of you, but Max?  Always.  

Will was keeping score, seated next to you and Steve with the biggest smile you had ever seen him wear.  He laughed hysterically the entire night, even going as far as verbally expressing adoration for you and Steve.  Dustin would pretend to gag, but Will would just tell him he knew better than to think that the curly-haired smart alec wasn’t completely in love with the two of you being together.  Dustin had grinned all dopey and wide, rolling his eyes but not arguing with him any further.  

At some point, Mike suggested all swapping ghost stories.  

Lucas had barked the loudest laugh.  “How about the one we’re currently living??”

“Hey, hey,” Steve interjected.  “I got a better idea.  Tell your most embarrassing story.  One you’re scared shitless to tell.”

You'd grinned in his arms, snickering.  “Oh I got plenty of those.”

“I mean hey,” Dustin shrugged with a mouthful of candy.  “If we’re gonna die, we might as well get real.”

“Okay chill, we’re not going to die,” Steve scoffed, hiding his internal worry.

“It’s possible,” Mike shrugged, grabbing another bag of M&M’s.

Steve huffed.  “Dammit, Wheeler —”

Mike’s devilish grin was infuriating yet endearing at the same time.

“I wish Max could hear all of this,” El said with a tinkering laugh.

You gave her the warmest of smiles and a wink.  “Trust me.  She does.”

“Hell yeah,” Lucas smiled wide, squeezing Max’s hand.  “I’ll even tell one of her stories, for her.”

“...dude, she’s gonna kill you,” Dustin warned him, but there was a smirk lifting at the corner of his lips.

“I’ll go first,” Will announced, laying on his stomach as he ate some popcorn.  “One time?  I was asleep in bed but I woke up because I heard Jonathan moaning so loudly — like, disturbingly loud —”

“Okay, maybe I needed to lay down some ground rules here —” Steve starts with a very tight voice as you snorted into your palm.

“Just hear me out,” Will laughs, holding a hand.  “I thought it was with a girl —”

“William,” Steve scolded.

“But he was in the bathroom,” Will talked over him.  “Shitting his brains out.”

Dustin cackled while Mike audibly expressed disgust while laughing at the same time.  El looked shocked, giggling hysterically into her hand.

“Damn, that bad?!” Lucas roared.

“He lit every candle in the house,” Will cackled.  “Mom went to use it shortly after him and came barreling into our rooms to ask us in a panic what had died up one of our butts!”

Steve collapsed into you laughing, and you couldn’t even breathe from laughing so hard.  It was that sort of deep laughter that’s so painful because it’s quiet before you’re able to finally erupt with loud laughs that help you come down from a high.  All the kids were a fit of cackles and giggles, too.  Erica made her way into the room finally, jumping right into things and bringing cookies with milk.  All of you exchanged stories, allowing yourselves to only cry tears of joy.  It was exactly what you all needed, long overdue.

And for the first time in ages — none of you thought about the upside down, or the impending doom that awaited you just outside of the Harrington house throughout all of Hawkins.

That night, you and Steve tucked every single of your kids into their assigned sleeping bags and cots.  Lucas stayed with Max in her bed, asking you sheepishly if that was alright.  You’d nodded, along with Steve — more than approving.  And given you both would be chaperoning that night in the same shared room, you also let Mike and El cuddle up together in a sleeping bag.

“Hands outside of the covers, Wheeler,” Steve warned him, but he gave him a wink — adding please at the end.  Even Mike gave him a smile and nod, like a little kid who felt called out but also didn’t have any intention of disobeying.

Dustin and Will joked in high pitched voices about being bunkmates with their sleeping bags next to each other, given they were the two singles of the group.  Technically, Erica was too.  But even if she wasn’t, she would still demand her own space.  She had situated herself on the floor beside Lucas’s side of the bed, not planning to give him a hard time for a good while given what was in store for everyone tomorrow.

As for you and Steve — the two of you had stationed yourselves in the center of the room, closest to the door.  That way, you could see all your kids at any point during the night and also be the first to fight off any harm coming your way, should danger lurk on the other side of the locked bedroom door.

Steve ruffled Dustin’s hair as he dozed off, earning a sleepy little “hmph” from him.  After he made sure all of them were comfortably settled in for the night, he crawled over to you.  His nail bat was propped somewhere nearby — ready to be swung into action if need be.  But the need for it that night never came.

You curled into Steve’s chest, breathing in his clean, masculine scent and allowing it to fill all of your senses.  Sighing contentedly, you felt a rush of warmth wash over you as his lips pressed into the top of your head.

“I love you so much,” he whispered.

“I love you more,” you murmured in the softest of whispers.

You felt him chuckle against you.  “Impossible,” he breathed into your hair, pulling you so close to him you might as well be the same body.

And had you not been so completely relaxed in his arms, you might have fought him on it.  The whole "I love you more" thing. In fact you definitely would have.  But you just hummed, dozing off in his strong arms and allowing sleep to find you.

***

Waking up had been beautiful. The sun was even more hidden than usual, plagued by the new world coming into fruition. But despite the lack of sunshine outdoors, you felt as though it shone through the entire room as all the kids woke up and whispered to each other. You pretended not to hear them when they talked about you and Steve. Because if you were being honest? You’d been dying to hear their uncensored thoughts. If they thought that you weren’t listening, they wouldn’t hold back from saying what was actually on their mind.

Turns out?  All of them wanted this. The two of you together.  They laughed about how some of them thought that Steve was going to end up with Robin at first. 

“No way,” Lucas shook his head in a confident whisper. “Those two? They’re like brother and sister.”

“Yeah, but Bauman’s so out of his league,” Mike whispered back.

“She is not,” Will added in a defensive whisper.

“She so is,” Mike whispered indignantly.

“No way, Steve’s awesome,” Dustin defended in a whisper.

“Yeah but like,” Mike whispered, pondering with a sigh. “I mean yeah. He is. I like him. He’s cool. Way cooler than I thought he was at first. But Bauman’s literally a badass. She doesn't care what people think.”

“Steve doesn’t care anymore,” Erica chimes in, speaking softly. She’s actually pleading Steve’s case and it’s adorable.  “He used to. But when we were down there with the Russians? And he had to wear that stupid sailor outfit for work?…”

“Oh my god,” Dustin snickered. “That shit was so funny.”

“He looked like Shirley Temple from the Good Ship Lollipop,” Lucas snickered back, and Will had to shush them so that they wouldn’t wake you up.

“My point is,” Erica continued with sass. “Steve doesn’t give a shit what anyone thinks of him now. I mean…he gave her hell the whole time I was around ‘em.”

“I still don’t get that,” Mike whispered.

“Me either,” El added quietly.

“What do you mean?” Dustin whispered in confusion. “I told you guys the whole story. That once upon a time ramble I had to sit through when Murray basically went on to give us an entire rundown on the two of them?”

“Well duh,” Mike whispered in annoyance. “I know that. But dude…she’s…like, she's...”

“Hot.”

Everyone went quiet, and you stiffened as you held back laughter. Because the person who had called you hot?  It was El.

“Bauman is hot,” El repeated.

Eventually someone snorted. Then, they all did. You bit back laughter, blushing into Steve’s chest with your face kept hidden.

“You’re hot,” Mike added to her in a coy whisper.

“No, you are,” she whispered back sweetly.

“Enough,” Erica whispered definitively. 

“Max thinks that Steve is hot,” Lucas scoffed.

“He is,” Erica and El said at the same time.

“Hey,” Mike whined, and they all shushed him.

“Face it, dude,” Dustin whispered flatly. “He is. I wish I looked like him.”

“You look great, man,” Will assured him. “You got a girl like Suzy. You gotta be a stud to catch someone like her.”

Dustin had blushed at that with a wide, dopey grin. “Think so?”

After listening to them chat some more, eventually Steve started to stir. He’d told them good morning, to which Dustin all too happily responded with a very loud good morning back —- making Steve audibly groan and bite back curse words. The kids all snickered. 

Will started handing out drawings out to everyone. You all had been sketching and drawing together in your assigned room earlier the day before, while Steve had been getting Max’s room ready.  Will had told you all to draw a picture of someone else in the party. He’d even chosen who was drawing who.  

Will and Lucas drew each other.

Mike and Erica drew each other.

El and Dustin drew each other.

And you drew Steve, before he joined you all and eventually drew his original art piece of you while you all played a round of the Game of Life.

Here you were now: holding your drawing close to your chest, and wiggling your eyebrows at Steve. He gave you the most adorable smirk, his cocoa brown eyes still a bit sleepy and his perfect hair the sexiest case of bed head. He stretched, toned arms flexing and his white t-shirt clinging to his muscles in all the right places while being loose enough to wanna rip it off of him…

Not the time, Bauman, you mentally scolded yourself.

Steve had reached underneath his pillow to fetch his drawing of you, holding it to his chest and sitting across from you — crossed-legged and shooting you a wink. All the kids mirrored you both, sitting opposite their assigned art piece subject with throaty giggles and snorts. 

Will looked at everyone excitedly, like a proud art professor, ready for his classroom to partake in show-and-tell.

“Alright,” he smiled. “Everyone ready?”

“Yeah, you go first, Byers,” Steve nodded at him with an encouraging grin.

Will blushed. “Oh…well…I mean…I should go last. You guys first. On the count of 3, everyone turn your photos around to your partner.”

Mike snorted as he stared down Erica. “Howdy, partner,” he drawled in a fake accent. El giggled, and so did Lucas. 

Erica shot Mike a wry smirk. “Easy now, cowboy.”

“Bet you made me look like a total loser,” Mike snickered. 

“I don’t have to draw you to make you look like that,” Eric’s said in the most sugary sweet, sarcastic voice.

“Okay snarkbutts, settle down,” Steve scolded lightly in a groggy voice, no heat behind it. “Will has the floor. William: proceed.”

Will saluted him. “Alright. Count of 3.”

“Please tell me you gave me teeth,” Dustin mumbled lowly to El.

“One…”

El shrugged. “I dunno.”

Dustin narrowed his eyes. 

“Two…”

Steve gave you a coy look, asking in the lowest of mumbles, “How big’s my hair?” 

You grinned like a devil, your voice lower. “Not as big as your other best trait.”

Steve lifted a very cocky eyebrow with a deepening grin.

“Three!”

Everyone turned their papers around, and a soft silence fell over you all minus a few little reactive intakes of breath.

Dustin had drawn El with a million eggo waffles in the sky around her. She looked like the most adorable cartoon character, with anime eyes and full cheeks. Her hair was shorter, the way she’d looked back in ‘83 whenever she’d returned. But it wasn’t slicked back. It was free, curly and a little wild. Her smile was innocent and childlike, and there was a policeman in the back waving. Hopper. 

El had drawn Dustin with his signature cap and his big toothy grin — which made him beam, because she did give him teeth in the drawing after all. And in this drawing, there were bubble boxes above him that read all the quotes she associated with him, like Steve! and She’s our friend and she’s crazy! and Shit shit shit shit shit!

Mike had drawn Erica into a comic strip. He showed her as just a wee tike, then at Scoops Ahoy with an ice cream cone, then playing DND. The last image of the strip showed her with her arms crossed and a triumphant smile, with a banner behind her that read Welcome to the Party.  (…as Erica looked at it, she felt the most unfamiliar warmth seep into her bones and the joyful sting behind her eyes sent her into pure shock.)

Erica had drawn Mike on his bike, riding through the neighbor with his backpack and a flashlight. His dark hair blew in the wind, and there was a thought bubble above him with little heads that resembled all of his best friends.  Above him and the thought was a quote: “Mike Wheeler: nerd, snark machine and superhero to all.”  (…Mike felt so emo, he didn’t know what to do with it.)

You had drawn Steve in a very chic sort of hot anime-like way.  It honestly looked like an actual character that existed in an anime universe.  In the drawing, Steve held his nail bat in one hand and a McDonald’s happy meal in the other.  He didn’t quite understand that part at first — until he spotted behind him, there was a Winnebago.  Six familiar faces, very stick-figure-esque, stood there waving.  You also stood there, with a quote above your head: “six-piece nuggets, coming right up.”  Steve breathed the fondest of chuckles as he took it all in, wanting to laugh and smile and cry and tackle you with his kids all at the same time.

Steve’s drawing of you was more adorable than you ever thought him capable of drawing.  You were the cutest little cartoon, backpack over your shoulder with combat boots — but you were wearing the most beautiful dress.  It was yellow, which complimented the happy blue sky behind you.  Yours and Steve's favorite colors combined.  There was a big house behind you, with seven other stick figures that looked an awful lot like Steve and your six nuggets.  And right next to you, there was a dictionary-esque definition of you:

BAUMAN (Pronounced bow•men)

A professional love-life ruiner; cute but psycho; hardcore but soft; too smart for her own good; humor darker than the dark espresso she drinks straight, because she’s a sociopath; also hotter than said cup of coffee; terrifyingly beautiful from the inside out; my mortal enemy turned favorite person; the girl who makes everything make sense; someone I can’t fathom living without, and can’t believe I ever thought I could; the love of my life, in this one and the next and so on, so long as she’ll have me.

You had never felt so full in your entire life, and neither had Steve. The two of you just stared at each other’s drawings. Grinning, glassy-eyed, chuckling, aching, filled with every ounce of joy and every ounce dread — all at once.  Neither of you could speak, but neither of you had to. Your eyes, along with his, spoke volumes. They said everything there was to say, just as much as your sketches did.

Lucas had drawn Will in a wizard’s outfit.  He held a tall, majestic scepter — with a large hat on top of his head.  Surrounding him was a large swirl of colors, whimsical and light, painting a galaxy of sorts.  And in this galaxy, there were little floating stick figures with all his friends’ names above them.  Will was smiling in the drawing, with his hands in the air and on top of the world.  Literally, because in the picture he was standing on top of a globe.

As for Will...he had drawn Lucas at a basketball game. He was scoring the winning basket, and an entire crowd cheered behind him.  All of you were there.  Will was there, next to all his friends.  You and Steve were next to each other, along with his mom, Jonathan, Nancy, Argyle, Eddie, Robin and Hopper.  Even your Uncle Murray.  

And Max…that’s where Will’s drawing got unique. 

She was piggybacking Lucas, as he jumped and shot the winning score of the game, her laugh radiating through all the pens and crayons and markers that Will had used to sketch her.  She was alive, as were the rest of you.  Very much alive.

Just as you all were right now, inside one of Steve Harrington’s many bedrooms in his big house with no parents.  

No matter what doom was swiftly approaching — no matter what monsters were looming underneath the surface, and already roaming the real world — you all were together.  You had each other.

You always will.

***

Late morning upstairs has been kind to you.  It's been light.  Hopeful. 

There’s something about walking downstairs that makes the energy shift.  It sends an odd sort of chill up your spine, despite Steve’s arm draped securely over your shoulders as you wear one of his large gray hoodies with your bad arm in a sling.  You feel a certain pang in your chest as the kids follow you all down into the kitchen…but this time, it’s not because of your heart arrhythmia.

As Hopper and Joyce smile at you all in the kitchen, greeting you warmly and having prepared a table full of pancakes that had smiley faces decorated with whipped cream and chocolate chips and strawberries on top — something about the scene frowns at you.  A deep frown that you’ve seen on everyone’s faces whenever there is bad news waiting to be shared.

Your uncle is coming over to hand you a hot cup of decaf coffee, winking at you and Steve as he gives him a tight shoulder squeeze.  He’s moving past you both towards the man named Dimitri, who is walking in from the living room.  Murray brings him over to introduce you.

“Dimitri, this is my niece,” Murray grins.

You shake his hand firmly with your good arm, smiling gratefully.  “Heard a lot about you.”

“You as well,” the man says with a genuine smile, kind vibrant eyes and a thick Russian accent.  He’s definitely seen some shit.

“And this is Steve,” Murray gestures, a bit of a coy glint in his eye.  “Her boyfriend.”

Steve blushes, a soft smile gracing his features and shining through his eyes.  He wholeheartedly adores being called that out loud for the very first time: your boyfriend.

Your uneven heart skips several more beats, which typically would raise a lot of concern — but at the moment, you’re too fucking happy to care or pay it any mind.  You watch Steve flash his signature charming smile and reach out to firmly shake hands with Dimitri, who is looking back at your handsome boy with the widest grin.  The masculine exchange of lighthearted friendly words between the two men makes your stomach dance for some reason, especially as your uncle chuckles along with them.  

This is completely uncharted territory for you. Nothing about this moment is familiar.  But you could really get used to it.  It’s new.  And you adore it.

Dimitri meets the kids, who all take to him very well.  Especially El, who seems to already be familiar with him.  Likely because of Hopper.  Jonathan and Argyle are being introduced to him by Joyce, while Eddie is rounding the corner with a big stretch and yawn.  Steve shoots him a smirk as the metalhead makes his way over for a big ole bro hug, whispering something to him that makes Steve snort while Eddie grins like a devil.  Steve swats at him playfully, successfully smacking him as Robin walks in with Nancy close behind.  Steve’s quirky platonic soulmate makes her way over to you with a warm smile, swinging an arm over your shoulders so that she’s nearly headlocking you in a hug.  She’s a bit taller than you, by just a couple inches, so it gives her some upper hand.  You’re chuckling lightly, nose scrunched and tightly winding your good arm around Robin’s waist as you smile back at Nancy.  Her eyes are still sad, a bit lost.  But there’s no animosity there, at least not that you see.  She looks at you shyly, timidly…but with utter kindness.

Unbeknownst to you — Robin had suggested to Nancy that she stay with her last night in Steve’s room.  For Nancy, that had been…hard.  Necessary, but hard.  For multiple reasons.  For one thing — the last time she’d slept in Steve’s room, she had been his girlfriend. Being asleep in there 2 years later without him, now as his ex, brought back a flood of memories — bittersweet and haunting.  Being in his bed, twisted up in his sheets, felt wrong.  But she just couldn’t bring herself to sleep next to Jonathan that night.  Not yet.  Not after everything that had unfolded.  So Robin had stayed up talking with her, having a heavy heart to heart.  But it turned out to be exactly what Nancy needed.  Just what the doctor ordered.  Robin Buckley had unintentionally become a nurse of sorts over the last several months, and maybe even somewhat of a therapist.  Although — Argyle sort of had her beat in that department earlier that afternoon.  But he was the much simpler kind.  Whereas Robin got deep, given her innate gift at rambling until you were given no choice but to cut her off because your most honest thoughts were yanked out of you as you were made to listen to her ranting.  Nancy had cried some more, but she’d also laughed.  A comforting mixture of both smiles and frowns were shared between the two unlikely friends.  Robin wasn’t Barb, nor would any other girl be that kind of friend to Nancy.  Robin was very different from Barb.  However, her heart was just as loving.  She loved hard, and it showed.  She let Nancy pour her heart out, pouring some of her own out in return.  And somehow…somehow…it brought Nancy some newfound peace and understanding.

So as she looked at you now, having seen you come downstairs with Steve and the kids — now introducing yourselves to the new Russian house guest, and sharing a special connection with Eddie and Robin in a way that only settled couples so effortlessly did — Nancy could see something in the two of you that she’d not known Steve capable of being while she in a relationship with him.  And while she selfishly ached for her younger self who’d missed out on having that with him (and sometimes still found herself pining after), she selflessly began to feel happy for Steve.  And she even began to feel some happiness for you.  Not completely.  Not yet.  She couldn’t quite commit to making full peace with it all, given that healing takes time.  A very long time.  But as time continued to pass, which Nancy hoped you all would still be granted given the circumstances of the crumbling world, she knew that she would eventually get there.  

Murray and Dimitri were saying something funny, making Hopper and Joyce share a hearty laugh with the two of them while the kids were asking the new gentleman a million questions.  Steve made his way over to you and Robin, hugging you both — and Eddie threw his arms around all of you, resulting in fond groans and grunts from you all along with big smiles.

Nancy and Jonathan made unintentional eye contact as this happened, but Dustin shouting GROUP HUG! snapped their focus away again. The boys all bear hugged you guys while El and Erica were already pouring syrup onto their pancakes.

Eventually, you all sat down to enjoy a feast.  And while it tasted so deliciously sweet…the bitter aftertaste stemmed from looming doom that creeped just beneath the surface of your feet.  The energy shift was still felt, and despite the warmth of homemade pancakes and Steve’s hand on your thigh…your blood ran cold.

***

It was the early afternoon that finally unveiled the darker energy shift you had all been sensing since that morning, after you left the comforting quarters of your little family sleepover.

Everyone was now seated in the living room now — the way you always were, when it was time for you all to have a group meeting and listen to Hopper go over a plan of sorts or give a rundown to the household.  Except this time, Dimitri was here along with Dr. Owens.  It wasn’t like all the other times.  This was different.  Very different.

This one scared you.

Maybe they all should’ve. All these talks that centered around the end of the world. All these household meetings about the impending doom that came with said end-of-the-world. But somehow, you’d grown accustomed to them.  Comfortable.  It meant you were all still alive and that you all had something worth fighting for. And it had always meant there would be another meeting.

But there was an unsettling sort of feeling of finality to this meeting that set it apart from all the others.  And as Hopper stood with both Joyce and your uncle Murray…you felt goosebumps scatter up and down your arms and legs, regardless of Steve’s warm oversized hoodie and your leggings and socks.  Their faces were somber, a bit grim.  Murray kept his arms tightly crossed while Joyce fiddled nervously with her hands.  Even Hopper, ever the strong and firm type, looked nervous.  Maybe even afraid. 

They spoke all slowly, taking their time with why everyone was there — why Dimitri was now in the picture along with Dr. Owens — and what all needed to be discussed.  And the longer they spoke, the thicker the air got.  Tension spread around the room.  It was especially evident as none of the kids were making a sound.  They hadn’t uttered a single word.  Not one of them.  The adults had the floor, and when they asked Dimitri to stand with them, you all knew this was going to go in a bad direction.

So when they all told you the plan, looping Dr. Owens into the picture and why he not only was here for this talk — but here to stay — the gravity of the current situation landed.

You all felt your souls plummet to the deepest depths of your stomachs with a hard thud, as Hopper revealed two large whiteboards.  They both had entirely different detailed layouts…and beside each one, there were two separate lists of names.

One list of names would be at the frontlines.  The people who would be diving head first into the upside down and all of its perils. 

One list of names would be hiding out here.  The people who would maintain home base, helping operate things from the other side in the real world, while risking the chance of being found, caught and killed.

Both sides were at risk.  Both teams could die.  Both groups might not ever live to see another day, or each other, ever again.

As Steve stares at your name, along with the names of all of his kids aside from El, on the opposite whiteboard from his own name…he feels bile rising in his throat.  His stomach twists into knots, deeply tangled with unbearable anxiety and anguish.  His mind races, but his lips don’t move.  Fear paralyzes him, rendering him speechless as the adults keep talking and gesturing to the boards.  The castle on a cloud that his dreams have just began to build for the two of you, walls high and protecting you both along with his kids — his family — was drifting away from him.  And all he could do was watch it drifting further and further away, into the void, as he stared into space.

You felt his grasp on you instinctively tighten as his muscles stiffened.  Steve was rigid against your back, and you were grateful that he couldn’t see your face right now.  You were sitting between his legs on the longest part of his couch, facing the same direction as you took in the whiteboards while absorbing all the information that was being relayed to the group.  With a harsh swallow, you risked peeking at everyone else’s reactions — quickly scanning the room with your eyes.

Mike’s usually sour expression looked far more sad than it usually did.  He only ever looked like that when El was in danger, or things were spiraling out of control.  He sat on top of the coffee table with his elbows in his lap, crouched forward and staring a hole into one of the whiteboards.  Dustin’s mouth was agape, and his unusual silence was loud.  He hadn’t said a word from where he sat on the couch next to Erica.  Will sat on the other side of Jonathan, brow furrowed and heart blue.  He knew the risks being taken, and it hurt his soul seeing that he would be apart from his mom and brother.  He felt as though he always had been, ever since this all began, and it seemed to be a never ending circumstance.  Lucas was taking it all in from his seat on the leg of the couch, hands wrung and expression reserved — but defeated.  He’d really grown into a young man this past year, and he’d been taking so much in stride.  But even so, he looked conflicted.  Really conflicted.  

After taking in the kids’ reactions, your eyes swept over to Robin and Eddie.  She was seated in the giant loveseat, per usual, with Eddie perched on the arm of it.  You narrowed your eyes as you caught sight of Robin fiddling her thumbs, eyes darting up and down from her fingers to the adults with the whiteboards.  Eddie was bouncing his knee anxiously, nibbling at his fingernails — which were already bitten to stubs.  While the two of them looked to be taking this hard, the way that the rest of you were…they also seemed to be absorbing it a bit differently.  As if maybe they had a hunch about it already…

It wasn’t until Erica stood up to sit by Lucas with zero prompt that you felt slightly suspicious.  Because as she did, Robin shot a very quick tight-lipped smile in Erica’s direction with eyes that radiated sympathy.  Did they know this was coming?  Is that why Erica had come upstairs with the cookies and milk later than the rest of the kids?

You sighed through your nose, focusing back on Hopper as he gestured for Dr. Owens to stand up with them.  The older man made his way to the center of the tense room, hands dug deeply into his pockets and wearing a very sympathetic smile.

“I’m really grateful you all have put a lot of faith in me, despite everything,” he said humbly.  “Truthfully, it’s not owed.  I know that.  Still…I promise you’re in good hands with me.  Not those guys out there.  Hence why I’m here.  And I know you’d have already figured out by now if I was still working for that side of things.  Between El and Will, and all of you crazy smart folks, I’m outnumbered.”

He added a light chuckle at the end that nobody returned.  Dr. Owens sighed, taking no offense.  He knew this was not going to be taken well.

“I’m in this fight with you,” he said, stronger than how he spoke before.  There was conviction in his tone that he never really used, and it only heightened just how severe things currently were.  “If it were up to me?  None of you would be out there.  I’d be out there on the frontlines.  But…given Max’s comatose state, and Bauman’s heart condition, I know I’m needed here.  Which is just as big a risk that’s being taken out on the battlefield, because we’re staying in Hawkins as the evacuation notice and mandate goes into effect.  The city will be swarmed with government officials who are all behind this.  We’ll be surrounded from all angles.  No one is safe.”

You’re pretty sure that Steve had stopped breathing at this point, and the veins that prominently stuck out from his arms tightly wound around you made your throat close up.  

“I’ll be here to monitor Max, along with Bauman.  I’ve got plenty of medication to help steady the heart arrhythmia, and anything vital needed for a medical emergency — on anyone’s behalf, not just Bauman’s and Mayfield’s.”

“But…what happens if…”

A tight voice made everyone’s heads whip in its direction.  It was Dustin speaking, eyes wide with fear.  He wasn't being his usual cocky, overly confident self.  He looked and sounded genuinely fearful.

“…what happens if we’re caught?  What do we do?  Where do we go?”

Murray sighs, stepping forward.  “We’ve thought about that.  Right now, there’s only 2 options.  But they’re solid.  The best we’ve got right now.  One more than the other.  See, look —”

Murray went into detail about an abort-mission plan, but it sounded distorted in your ears as the gravity of the situation weighed down on top of your shoulders: you were all splitting up.  And this time might be the last time.

At some point, Mike had started to finally come to life.  His snark was returning, but even he wavered and the fear in his voice wasn’t concealed.  Hopper and El had to level with him, which only flustered Mike and caused him to stutter.  They had him beat, and he knew it.  He wanted to storm off, but Erica had told him to sit his ass down and listen.  It was so unexpected that he did as she said.  But your own brain was playing it all in slow motion.  As Will began asking questions with Dustin, you could see how Lucas had looked like he wanted to ask Erica if she might have already known something — but he didn’t.  Dr. Owens was saying something about Will being tied to the other side of things and being the assigned “El” of their group opposite of her, which fired up Mike as he demanded to know why the hell that required him to be out of the group heading to the frontlines alongside his girlfriend.  Before Hopper could even respond, Eddie was jumping into action along with Jonathan — coming to the retired cop’s defense.  That only bewildered Mike more, which fueled Dustin’s confusion into high gear as he made arguments alongside Mike.  Lucas had thrown his voice into the mix, but when Erica’s was louder — telling them all to listen, for the love of god listen, and Lucas stared at her in silent bemusement.  Will was weakly pleading with them all to please calm down, along with Joyce, who shot Argyle (of all people) a desperate look, and he made his way over to sit down next to Will and tell him it was going to be alright.

“NOTHING ABOUT THIS IS ALRIGHT,” Mike cried, angry and sad and scared in the way a child made to grow up too soon has every right to be.

“Mike, please,” Nancy’s voice trembled, her blue eyes glassy.

“Nancy, this isn’t okay!!!” Mike wailed.

“M-Mike,” Nancy stammered, her own emotions giving her a shake she couldn’t stop.  “Just l-listen to me…”

“No, you never listen to me!!!” Mike bawled.  “Never!!!”

“Hey hey, Wheeler, hey.”  

Steve finally found his voice as he reluctantly made his way to stand up away from you and approach his kid that was having an absolute breakdown.  Mike was still wailing, but as Steve approached with an unwavering look in his eye — baby Wheeler allowed for the group's assigned babysitter to actually place his hands on his shoulders and try to level with him.  Mike’s face crumbled, his words not making any sense the more he stumbled over them.  All that could be made out was something he was trying to say towards El — something about why and how could you and tell them I’m coming — which made Steve get a firm grip on his shoulders as he told him not to blame her for this.  After all, Steve had all the experience in the world as far as wrongfully placing blame on someone else was concerned…and it made your entire body ache as you watched him soothe Mike, who just bawled and mumbled nonsense in his hold.

El began to cry, too, leaning into Hopper — whose bottom lip trembled.  He bit down on it hard and willed it to stop, his eyes overwhelmed with everything that was unraveling before his eyes. 

Dustin was going back and forth with Erica, but he sounded so pitiful it made your uneven heart crack.  He kept looking over at Steve, begging him to understand.  Please Steve, please, let me go with you.  Eddie moved to immediately hold him, crushing him in more of a death grip than a hug.  The metalhead mumbled into his curly hair — not this time, kiddo, not this time.  Robin had a hand clamped over her mouth, emotions taking over as she barely managed to bite them back.

You stood up instantly, moving to hold Buckley.  She didn’t hesitate to make room for you on the seat, letting you take her in your arms as she shook like a leaf.  You gently swayed her side to side with you, murmuring quiet little words that were meant to be comforting — knowing they weren’t, but offering them anyway.

Your eyes met Jonathan’s across the room as he swayed with Will as well.  His pupils were blown, consumed with dread and drowning in pure misery, and you knew that yours weren’t much different.

Mike had buried his face into Steve’s chest at this point, and it made Nancy cry into her own palms as she curled in on herself.  

“I can’t do this,” she whispered, voice cracking at the end.  She looked at Hopper and your uncle, eyes guilty and full of shame.  “I - I’m sorry.”

Before you could even process what just happened, Nancy was barreling up the stairs.  Jonathan watched her go, panicking.  He looked at Will, then at you — eyes pleading.  You didn’t even let a second pass before you’d squeezed Robin to signal her, standing up to bring her over to where Will was seated.  You took Jonathan’s place as he went after Nancy, holding him tight as Robin leaned against you on your opposite side.  Argyle kept a kind hand on Will’s shoulder, still sitting to the other of him.  

“Steve, please, you die I die, remember?”

Dustin’s whimpered words had to have been the saddest plea you’d ever heard in your life.  Steve almost broke but before he could he flung an arm to sweep Dustin into his hold, as baby Wheeler kept bawling into his chest.  He held them both steady, letting them fall apart in his protective arms and doing everything in his power not to break down with them.  He couldn’t.  If he did, he’d failed them.  But to Steve’s dismay…he did anyway.  He ducked his head down, shaking against the two of his kids, letting himself silently weep with them.  For them. 

Lucas looked utterly heartbroken, which Erica noticed.  The youngest Sinclair cast aside all her pride, looking at her older brother with the most sympathy and love she could have towards anyone in this world, and she threw her arms around him.  He only let it shock him for a second before he held her back, a grateful silence falling over them both.  

You felt tears of your own begin to brim your eyes, but before letting them fall you looked up towards the adults…seeing your uncle first.  Murray looked back at you with every ounce of empathy and solace that could be found inside his dark soul. 

You gave him a soft nod, silently communicating with him.  I understand.  I’m sorry you had to deliver this news, but I’m here and I understand. 

And he returned the soft nod, lips pressed into a thin line but communicating back through eye contact and body language.  I love you and I hate this.  But I’ve got you.

Dimitri stood next to him, eyes somber and downcast.  He was new to the picture, but having seen the other side of things and just how bad a toll this has clearly taken on you all — he mourned for everyone’s pain. 

Dr. Owens had to sit down, unable to speak and wringing his hands.  

Hopper and Joyce held each other, along with El.  They looked at each other, devastated but steadfast.  

This plan was not open for discussion.  

This plan was not open for debate.  

This plan was final.

And so you let the tears crawl over the edges of your eyes, feeling them skate down your cheeks as you clung to Will and Robin and felt the world sit on top of your shoulders.

***

-- so as you can see, shit's getting intense. the gut-wrenching angst approaching has me overwhelmed but I'm so sickeningly happy about it. suffice it to say, Steve & Bauman are my Roman Empire and they are endgame. so if that gives you any sort of hope, given the inevitable doom that is in store for them and everyone else involved...then yay.

<3 this story forever lives on. forever and ever amen. - misha

TAGLIST (ILYSM) If I forgot you or you wanna be added, lmk :)

@aloneinthehellfire @xprloki @erastourvip @get0ut0fmyr00m @Eddiemuns0nl0ver @marrowfrog00 @poppet05 @wiltedflowersundertowers Originalthingparadise Pleuviors pumpkinonice Ihaveproblemsihaveproblems Brinleighsstuff Definitelynotherr sucker-4-angst bookkeeperlove notlilyyyy @goosy-goose nevillescomslut

#steve harrington #steve harrington x reader #steve harrington angst #mishas masterlists #steve harrington imagine #steve harrington x you #steve harrington fanfic #steve harrington stranger things #steve harrington smut #joe keery #oh so we do love steve #steve and bauman #murray bauman #jopper #jim hopper #jonathan byers #stancy #sorry stancy

[cordelia-cardale]

A lot of rumours have been circulating around the spoilers dropped about Colin and his sexual life. My main thought on this is: intimacy.

Of course, I have to start by saying that if it’s true, I don’t like it, I don’t agree with it, and I feel uncomfortable seeing it. But hey! The man is single and a grown adult, so he does what he wants.

However, I do think that if we want to see half of the things in the book, including some kinky talk and female sexual pleasure on Pen’s part (help, I’ve been in naughty jail for quite some time now) it is crucial for Colin to know a minimum about what he’s doing. That only happens if he’s had time to discover his own sexuality (although it does take away from the sweetness of them discovering themselves with each other).

Yet, that sweetness might still be here and this is where intimacy comes in. If it’s true and Colin is well and truly in his slutty era, I actually don’t think it’s so ooc of him. We’re talking here about a man who, after his first trip abroad, brought home drugs to get high on.

You know what that is? A sort of escapism.

I see his thrysts in brothels as another sort of escapism. Especially if he’s having threesomes.

No strings attached, no single person to focus on = no intimacy.

We know this man is seeking escape. We’ve also been told he has some demons of his own he needs to wrestle with this season. I think one of those demons might be an intimacy issue.

I mean we’re talking about a man who believed he was so in love in season one he was ready to marry immediately. Only to later find out that his trust had been abused (I’m not commenting on what Marina chose to do, I’m just saying that he most likely felt extremely betrayed). And even if he says that he’s moved on in season 2, which his sexual experiences in season 3 will attest to, that boy is probably quite scarred on a mental level and is probably still escaping all sorts of real attachment. I mean even the swagger shows it. He knows he’s handsome and he’s having fun with it, but he is probably nowhere close to being ready to commit when the season starts.

And in comes our beloved Pen and she’s taking none of his shit. Worse, she will see right through him and eventually confront him about his need to escape, which will lead to a passionate carriage make out scene (mind still in the gutter, I do apologise, honestly send help). And for Colin, who possesses all that swagger, is visiting brothels and having threesomes, for his knees to buckle and to have trouble breathing because Pen gives him a compliment about his eyes in the context of a suitor lesson? It’s absolutely hilarious.

That man will always melt into a puddle when he’s with her because it is her. It is Pen, his Pen, a part of the family and someone who brings out the vulnerability in him he is so desperate to hide away.

I think, just as much as she needs to grow in confidence, he needs to grow in his trust in a relationship and to stop running and seeking escape. And I think they will help each other grow in that way. They will discover themselves with each other because there will be that intimacy and that vulnerability that these two do not have with any one else.

Of course that is also what might make the reveal of Lady Whistledown even worse for Colin. Because she is in part responsible for the pain and the betrayal he’s experienced. She did try to warn him and he did not listen so she felt like she had no other choice. But it was badly handled and he says that too. So we might get a duality where Colin finds that intimacy and that trust in Penelope and only her, but he also cannot just ignore how she’s responsible for his demons. And they will have to learn to grow around each other’s best and worst parts and decide whether they are what they want or not.

Anyway all this rambling to say that the sex scenes (if we do get them, I’m still not totally convinced) are probably a way to explore Colin’s demons but mean nothing. And I think (hope) we’ll be able to see the stark contrast in his attitude when he’s with Pen. Because after all, this is Pen, and this is love, and this is nothing like he’s ever felt before.

#bridgerton #polin #bridgerton season 3 #colin bridgerton #penelope featherington #I apologise for my rambling #but honestly if this is the story they choose to tell it might get a bit dark #but it will also be such a beautiful love story #of two people who know each other better than anyone and despite all the demons and the doubts and the struggles still decide #to choose each other #because #there is no one else

[keldae]

Caretaking

Devi's skillset doesn't lend itself well to domesticity in Waterdeep. And Tara isn't as helpful as she thinks she is.

AO3 link

---

Devi awoke to the sound of a mighty sneeze, one that startled her out of a perfectly nice dream. She startled, her eyes flying open as she looked around her and Gale’s bedroom in his tower, trying to get her heart rate to settle back down. She could just feel the baby in her womb squirm, as though equally disturbed by the loud noise that had awoken its mother.

“Apologies,” she heard Gale’s hoarse voice beside her as the wizard sniffled, sitting up. He immediately flopped back down on his pillow with a little groan, a hand draped across his eyes. “Ugh.”

Her eyes narrowing, Devi rolled over in bed and brushed her fingers over Gale’s bearded cheek. “You sound like shit,” she pronounced. “And you feel warm.”

“I love you too,” Gale wryly croaked out, a moment before he curled in on himself in a coughing fit that made Devi’s chest ache in sympathy. When he regained his breath, he groaned again, seemingly trying to muster up the willpower to sit up again and actually make the effort to get out of bed. “How are you feeling?” he mumbled.

“Surprisingly good, for someone whose husband was snoring all night and keeping her up, even more than his child is,” Devi commented, touching her swollen belly as the baby settled down again. She sat up, frowning as she shifted to stroke her fingers through Gale’s mussed hair, feeling a feverish heat radiating from his brow. “But don’t worry about me, love. You are staying in bed today.”

Gale shook his head and frowned. “That’s not an option,” he protested. “I have lectures to give, and research to do…”

“Do I need to sit on you to make you stay in bed?”

The hand over Gale’s eyes moved, enough for the wizard to give his wife a little glare. “I am an adult, and perfectly capable of making decisions for myself–”

“And I’m your wife, who will yell for Tara to come back me up if you don’t cooperate,” Devi retorted.

Gale’s eyes narrowed. “... You wouldn’t,” he weakly protested.

Devi raised an eyebrow. “Watch me,” she answered. 

She knew she won that round when Gale groaned in defeat and sank back into the pillow. “It truly isn’t that bad,” he tried to argue. “I think it’s just the sniffles, love. Hardly the thing to defeat a fully-trained wizard.”

“You’re feverish, coughing up a storm, and congested as all hells,” Devi responded, running her fingers through Gale’s hair again. She felt a little gratified when the wizard closed his eyes and sighed at the gentle motions. “Taking a day or two to rest won’t be the end of the world, darling.”

Gale harrumphed, but couldn’t argue Devi’s point – half because he’d broken into another coughing fit. He finally caught his breath and cracked his eyes open again, giving her the kicked-puppy expression that usually worked so well to weaken Devi’s resolve. “My students will be missing me,” he hoarsely protested. “There’s supposed to be an exam today…”

Devi shook her head in fond exasperation. “Tell you what – if you can cast a spell, with its intended effect happening, I won’t argue if you decide to go to the Academy today, even if I think it’s one of the dumber ideas you’ve had.”

“Thank you for the vote of confidence,” Gale croaked. He eyed Devi for a moment, then raised his hand. “ Non movere .”

A handful of pitiful-looking indigo sparks was all that emerged as a result of the spell’s invocation. Devi raised her eyebrow. “Isn’t that supposed to be the Hold Person spell? Because I can still move perfectly freely, love.” She lifted her hand and waggled her fingers at Gale to demonstrate.

“ Non movere, ” Gale tried again. This time, he didn’t even get the sparks from his hand. He groaned in defeat and sagged into the pillow. “I give up. You win, darling.”

Devi offered her ill husband a little smile and leaned down to kiss his hot forehead. “Go back to sleep,” she murmured. “I’ll send a message to the Academy to say that you’re too ill to come in today.” She hesitated, still petting Gale’s hair and feeling him all but melt under her touches. “Do you want me to stay until you’re asleep again?”

Gale nodded and flailed out with his hand to find Devi’s on the bed, clinging to her fingers.

“Okay,” Devi murmured with a little smile, kissing his brow again. “I’ll wait.” She suspected that, with how ill Gale was, she wouldn’t have to wait very long. Indeed, his eyes closed again, his facial muscles relaxing as sleep crept back over him. In less than three minutes, he was snoring, dead to the world.

Shaking her head and wondering why every man she’d ever met had no self-preservation instincts pertaining to illness, Devi kissed Gale’s brow one more time, then carefully slid out of bed, making sure to not wake him up again. The message to the Academy wouldn’t send itself, after all.

---

An hour later saw Devi in the kitchen, frowning at an old recipe book of Gale’s that she had found. This had to be a favourite volume of his, from how many annotations he’d made in the margins of the book over the years and how stained the pages were. Unfortunately, while she knew Gale could translate his own handwriting easily, she had yet to master that particular skill – and these notes were faded with time and use, making them still harder to read. 

Tara jumped up on the counter beside Devi, sniffing at the book. “Ahh, yes. One of Mr. Dekarios’ favourites,” she said – if Devi hadn’t known better, she would have thought the tressym sounded approving. “And vegetable soup is a good remedy for human – or half-human – illnesses.”

“He always makes it for me when I don’t feel good – that, or the pumpkin soup,” Devi confirmed. “And it makes me feel better. It can’t hurt to make some for him this time.” She eyed the book for a moment, then stepped into the pantry, fishing onions and carrots and celery out of the baskets Gale kept there. Washing and chopping the vegetables, and putting them in a pot with water, was easy enough to do. Thankful that Gale didn’t have a kitchen that required magic to use anything, like she heard that some wizards had, she set the pot over the flame to simmer. “What else is good in soup?”

Tara’s tail swished as she thought. “In the cool storage, there’s a whole chicken that you could add to the soup,” she said after a moment. “The meat will be good for him.”

Devi wrinkled her nose – chicken was one of those foods that the child in her womb had apparently decided she wouldn’t be eating much of during her pregnancy. Just the thought of the poultry made her stomach churn. But, her ill husband did need the nutrients from the meat; she nodded and turned to the cupboard that Gale had enchanted to be cooler than the rest of the tower, fetching the chicken. “Do I cook the chicken first, or add it raw to the soup?” she asked Tara. 

In response, Tara looked at the cookbook, muttering curses about Gale’s handwriting under her breath. “I would think to cook it first,” she finally said. “Humans react poorly to raw poultry, and Mr. Dekarios is already ill enough.”

“Of all the days for Shadowheart to be away,” Devi sighed as she started preparing the chicken, trying to not gag at the feeling of raw meat on her hands. “Gale, it’s a damned good thing I love you,” she muttered.

“If I had thumbs, I would offer to assist you,” Tara commented, watching as Devi prepared the bird. “Don’t forget to add salt and pepper to the chicken before you cook it.”

“I’m on it,” Devi confirmed, adding the seasonings to the chicken skin before she put the bird in its own pot and set it to roast. “Do I need to add anything else to that, do you think?”

Tara tilted her head, her tail swishing again. “I don’t think so?” she said after a moment. “I have watched Mr. Dekarios cook many times, but I have never been involved in the cooking process. Tressyms don’t need their food cooked.”

“And I’ve sat and watched Gale cook enough, you’d think I’d have picked up some of what he knows,” Devi muttered. “But a chicken vegetable soup can’t be too hard, right?”

“I shouldn’t think so,” Tara said. “Provided you don’t burn anything.”

---

Half an hour later, Tara’s nose twitched at the smokey, charred ruin that had once been a chicken. “Did I not say to not burn anything?”

“That’s not half as helpful as you think it is, Tara,” Devi growled, gingerly poking at the chicken. “At least it’s not raw?”

“I suppose,” Tara admitted. “Perhaps it will be salvageable after you scrape off the charring on the outside.”

“The things I do for Gale,” Devi sighed as she started scraping the charred skin away from the chicken. Her stomach roiled threateningly at the smells that assaulted her; she winced and gently touched her swollen belly. “Enough of that,” she said to her unborn child. “Your daddy is sick and needs this, and Tara can’t exactly cook!”

“I have my doubts that you can either,” Tara commented.

Devi scowled at the tressym, then pried one of the legs off the chicken’s body. “Are you fucking joking?” she asked when she saw the still-raw meat under the burnt outer layer of the bird. “I can’t feed Gale this!”

Tara jumped up onto Devi’s shoulders and peered at the chicken. “I’m a little impressed that you managed to both under-cook and burn the same chicken,” she said. 

“One of the many talents I have,” Devi deadpanned. Setting the chicken leg down, she stepped over to the first pot and gave it a stir. The vegetables in the broth seemed to be unburnt, for the moment. “So perhaps Gale is getting a plain vegetable soup today without the chicken,” she said. “These, at least, are still edible.”

“I suppose that will be acceptable,” Tara said. “When Mr. Dekarios is feeling better, perhaps you should ask him for cooking lessons.”

“Not the worst idea I’ve heard,” Devi admitted. She gave the soup another stir, making sure none of the vegetables were sticking to the pot. “What other vegetables are good in soup? Maybe potatoes?”

“Potatoes would be a good addition,” Tara mused, her tail flicking from side to side. “Perhaps a courgette as well?”

Devi nodded, then went back to the pantry, returning with a couple of potatoes that she scrubbed clean. Once they were chopped, she carefully added them to the soup pot and gave it another stir before going back for a courgette. As the green vegetable was added to the pot, the former thief gave her creation a contemplative look. “Any other suggestions?”

“Perhaps give it a taste,” Tara suggested.

Turning to the silverware, Devi fetched a spoon, then dipped it into the broth and took a careful sip of the hot liquid. She frowned at the bland flavour. “Salt and pepper,” she said. “Maybe some herbs too. Herbs will help Gale feel better too, right?”

“They should,” Tara confirmed. She jumped off of Devi’s shoulders and started sniffing at Gale’s spice rack. “Ah, curse that boy. I’ve been telling him for almost thirty years that he needs jars that I can pick up and open!”

“I’ll come help you in a moment,” Devi said, picking up the salt and pepper. The pepper, freshly ground as it was, went into the soup easily enough. The salt went in a little easier. “... Ooops.”

Tara looked up. “What now?”

“I, uh, may have put a little too much salt in here?” Devi said. She took another sip of the broth and winced. “It’s… not bland anymore, at least?”

Tsking, Tara shook her head. “Come get some of the herbs, and hopefully those will balance out the salt. Open the jars first so I can smell them.”

Devi stepped over to the spice rack and picked up the first jar Tara pawed at, opening the lid. “Smells nice,” she commented as she peered at the label in Gale’s handwriting. “Basil?”

“Try adding that to the soup,” Tara said. “And this one, and this one.”

“How much?” Devi asked, and saw Tara shrug. “... That’s not helpful.”

“Mr. Dekarios never measures his herbs or spices,” Tara responded. “He says that such things should be measured with your heart.”

“My heart has never cooked a vegetable soup for a sick wizard before,” Devi retorted. She picked up the other jars that Tara had indicated and eyed them before shaking out what she thought was a good amount of each herb into the soup pot. Her next taste test only came back with more of the overly-salty flavour – she frowned, then added more of the herbs, a more generous shake from each jar. 

Her next taste wasn’t ‘good’, but at least it wasn’t quite as overpoweringly salty as before.

“How is it?” Tara asked, watching Devi contemplate her spoon.

“... Not great,” Devi admitted. “A pity you don’t have human tastes – you could tell me what’s wrong with this. And I’m not waking Gale up to get his opinion when he needs sleep.”

“Perhaps it just needs more time to simmer?” Tara suggested. “My understanding is that soups take time to properly come together.”

“It can’t hurt,” Devi said after a moment. “Maybe an hour, do you think?”

Tara nodded. “I think that’s a reasonable length of time. Come, let’s see if you can at least make a cup of tea without ruining that too.”

---

An hour later, and Devi was ready to admit that cooking anything required no small amount of magic. Somehow, the vegetables in her soup had managed to burn themselves on the sides of the pot, and the ones that weren't burnt were decidedly mushy. The herbs she had added didn’t do a thing to mask the slightly-burnt flavour of the soup, and she swore the overly-salty flavour had just gotten worse with simmering.

She and Tara looked down into the pot – Devi with a frown, and Tara with her tail swishing. “I’m not sure how to salvage that, if it’s as bad as you say,” the tressym said. 

“I don’t think even Gale could salvage this,” Devi sighed. “Why did I think this was a good idea?”

“Because Mr. Dekarios is ill, and you wanted to tend to him?” Tara asked.

Frustrated, Devi poked at the ruined soup with the ladle. “I'm half surprised I didn't melt the ladle on top of everything else,” she grumbled.

“That makes two of us,” Tara said. Ignoring Devi's scowl, she sat on the counter and started grooming herself. “What is your next plan?”

Devi sighed and raked a hand through her hair. “I have no idea,” she muttered. “I'm almost ready to send you to Gale's mother for help with this.” Except that Devi did not want to appear helpless and incompetent in front of Morena Dekarios. Her mother-in-law seemed to like her well enough, but Devi still had a few fragments of her pride left.

Tara looked up from grooming one large wing. “I doubt even Mrs. Dekarios would be able to salvage that soup,” she commented. “Perhaps if we–”

A sneeze interrupted the tressym's thought. Gale shuffled into the kitchen, wrapping his robe around him. “What was that about my mother?” he hoarsely asked.

“You should still be in bed,” Devi murmured, abandoning the pot and its dismal soup to give Gale a gentle hug. “How do you feel?”

“Like a carriage ran over me,” Gale mumbled. He hugged Devi back, resting his cheek on her hair before he looked at the scene before him. “What's this? You were cooking?”

“‘Cooking’ might be too generous a term,” Tara commented. “The best that could be said is that she didn't burn the tower down.”

“Hey, you were no help,” Devi growled at the tressym before she looked up at Gale. “Uhh… I tried cooking. It's… almost edible?”

Gale raised an eyebrow and smiled. “Only almost? I'm sure you aren't giving yourself enough credit, darling.” Letting go of Devi, he shuffled over to the pot; Devi saw his brow furrow as he examined the attempt at soup. Picking up a spoon, he cautiously sipped the broth.

Devi winced as she saw Gale freeze, his face contorting in a grimace that he couldn't quite hide from her. “Oh, gods. I know it's awful – I'm sorry. I tried to follow your recipe, but…”

With an effort, Gale swallowed the mouthful of broth, and gave Devi a smile. “No, love, it's not that bad! It…” He looked at the pot. “It's, uh…”

“It's barely edible,” Devi groaned. “Don't feel like you have to be nice about it, Gale. I know it's terrible.”

“Nonsense! I've had worse.” Gale chuckled and set the spoon down. “Trust me, darling. I've made worse food than that, when I was first learning. I wouldn't call this a culinary masterpiece, but you meant well with this!” He came back to Devi and gently curled his finger under her chin. “It means the world to me that you tried this, even though I know you aren't as comfortable in a kitchen as I am.”

Devi smiled sheepishly at Gale and ran her fingers through his hair. “Well, you felt terrible – I wanted to do something nice for you. And you always take such good care of me when I don't feel good…” She stretched up to kiss his cheek, then eyed the pot. “... But is that even salvageable?”

Gale looked at the pot as well, then ruefully smiled. “The pot itself should be fine, but there's no magic that exists to remove too much salt, or to un-burn food.” As Devi groaned again, he chuckled and wrapped his arms around her again. “If you like, I can teach you how to make a soup properly. I know my notes in the recipe books are hard to read, but I have a few tricks I can teach you.”

“You're still ill, though,” Devi said with a little frown, stroking Gale's forehead. He still felt warm to her touch. “I can't ask you to teach me to cook when you're sick.”

“I'm not so ill that I can't sit at the table with a cup of tea and talk you through cooking, my love,” Gale assured her. “All I ask in repayment is for you to come back to bed with me afterwards for a snuggle.” He winked at her and kissed her forehead. “Does that sound agreeable to you?”

Devi smiled and stretched up to give Gale a light kiss. “That sounds good to me.”

With a little grin, Gale let go of her and sat down at the table. “Now, the first step is to dispose of your earlier attempt at soup–” He looked around, his eyes setting on the burnt chicken carcass that Devi had tried and failed to salvage anything edible from. “Oh, dear. Another attempt on your part?”

Wincing sheepishly, Devi nodded.

Gale ruefully chuckled. “All right. Throw that out too, and we'll try cooking chicken another day, darling.” He watched as Devi disposed of the ruined soup and chicken, then managed to summon the energy to magically clean the pot of its burnt mess. “The base of a good vegetable soup is onion, celery, and carrot…”

#bg3 #bg3 fic #gale x tav #tav x gale #tara the tressym #fluff #gale dekarios #gale #illness #domesticity #bad cooking #listen #Devi tried #and failed miserably #how badly can you fuck up a vegetable soup? #VERY badly if you're Devi #and Tara really isn't that helpful

[apotelesmaa]

Norma is objectively one of the funniest psychonauts characters though. she immediately assumes this 10 year old is the mole taking down the psychonauts from the inside and decides the best way to gather information is to stalk his dad. Ruins ford and raz’s plan to defeat maligula by being a snitch. Helped save the day by fixing the problem she caused. Is now in hell because she was wrong and all the other kids make her fortnite dance and shout go snitch girl go. Her sister got all the cool genes and now she’s stuck being an insufferable nerd. Probably says “well actually” at least ten times a day. Beefing with a 10 year old. Let’s give it up for pathetic & annoying female characters (fond).

#psychonauts #i don’t even think her thinking raz was the mole was unreasonable tbh #like obviously the adults are like this 10 year old isn’t the snitch #but she’s close enough to his age to not see that as an excuse and also I feel like that just made her feel like she was #the only one who could do anything about it. #by virtue of being the main character raz was involved in a lot of shit that made him seem suspicious #like I do enjoy her a lot even if I don’t necessarily agree with a lot of the fanon interpretations of her character #& I would love to see her and raz be worsties one day #because yes raz is only ten but he absolutely contributes to their beef on purpose #it’s like one of those things where u can’t snitch on him for being an ass because he’s ten and you’re a teenager #& people are like ohh norma come on he’s just 10 stop beefing with a child that’s stupid #and behind their back raz is making faces at her #i think they have great potential for antagonistic sibling energy once they get to know each other #raz behaves normally around the rest of the jr agents specifically to gaslight norma into thinking she’s an idiot for beefing with a child. #lili & lizzie would also absolutely help with this #god esp because raz has endeared himself so much to all of the big name agents AND Truman zanotto #i need 2 play psychonauts 2 again I’m so normal about this game

[seventh-district]

.

#it is 5 hrs past my bedtime and i am awake listening to Two Hearts by Dermot Kennedy on loop and crying over Rotating Shifts. again. #i couldn’t resist the urge to read the latest chapter any longer but i knew when i did i’d get like this #so Why did i wait for my period to roll around. i have made. a silly decision lmaooo #i’ve complained abt it before but i’m conflicted about how much more sensitive it makes me #my nightmares usually don’t make me cry but oh i was a Wreck this morning #so why i picked tonight to read the fic that always makes me cry is beyond me #i have never met a fic before that had me in such an intense emotional grip #and it’s fucking hilarious bc it’s not that intense of a story!! like yeah there’s been devastating parts but i’m out here having to- #-take a break every single chapter bc i’ll read one line that hits my inner child like a truck and i have to take a minute to recover #but the whiplash this fic gives me is so fucking funny and the range in the storytelling from comedy to tragedy is just.. *scream-cries* #it has my favorite characterization of Sun and Moon that i have ever seen #this chapter wasn’t even that sad i’m just Making myself sad about it #but on another level it also makes me sad in the sense that i don’t think i’ll ever be able to write something that good.. #all that i want out of my writing endeavors is to make one (1) person feel as strongly and as much as RS makes me feel #and i don’t know if i can do that. i don’t know if my writing has what it takes bc i can’t even describe exactly what it is #i don’t think it’s a science that can be replicated. things either connect with someone or they don’t #the way Sun goes from worryingly innocent ‘wdym we can’t invite strangers to live with us?’ ‘wdym we can’t adopt an adult that needs help?’ #to fucking. tearing an animatronic in half in a fit of protective rage and blocking access to all dating apps to prevent you from- #-finding anyone else bc he’s your Special Friend and he can’t have his Daydream falling for anyone else!! no no!! #it’s not a new concept but i eat it tf up when Sun is actually the one you should fear the most #like no i don’t think he’d hurt Reader but i dread to think of the things he would do For them #the back and forth between childlike innocence and terrifying intelligence possessiveness and physical capability is just mmmmm 100/10 #and don’t even get me started on Moon. or i Will start crying again #he’s ​like yeah dumbass of course i’m gonna save you every time some POS man tries to **** you. of course i will you fucking crater-head #but i will complain at you about it the Entire way home and then i will steal your fucking toilet paper and pack you a raw egg for lunch #because i hate you 🖤 but Sun loves you and we would both kill for you 🖤 also i drank all of your chocolate milk 🖤 also i hate you :) #anyways i am paraphrasing obviously and dear god i hope no one who actually reads RS sees this bc i do not want my 2am ramblings taken as- #-any kind of Official Thoughtful Analysis of the story ok pls pls pls let me be insane abt my favorite fic without having to be articulate #i just have so many fucking FEELINGS about them. i am unwell. #i’m not even tagging this i’m just hitting post and going to sleep goodnight

[boomerang109]

i came home, panicked about one thing, and my toilet was leaking. bathroom floor is covered in water and brown particles. oddly, this has not improved my mood

#i just want to be a child again. i understand being a child was also miserable I am not glorifying my childhood #i was in pain and sad and lonely #BUT I WAS SAFE AND CARED FOR AND I NEVER QUESTIONED THAT no matter how much pain I was in #what I wouldn’t give for everything to hurt because I was so overstimulated by school and being bullied #being a kid had such clear cause and effect. being an adult is just…I am guilty and I want to cry everytime I think about the fact that I’m #here. i miss something that never existed and I’m the only one who is trying to remember a person who never existed but is important to me #(cause it’s me—I’m the only one who cares about preserving my childhood. my parents don’t give a damn. they were so busy surviving they #don’t remember it or care either) #why the fuck am I getting emails about a pizza party we didn’t ask for were an actual club now we don’t need your planned events fuck off #the way I was about to brag about our club name by just name dropping my school which would then make it so easy to find me holy shit my #internet safety is getting lax 🙈 #boom’s bad days #omg I just got reccommended ‘boom blogs high’ what if I got high I would feel so much better #i keep just coping sober cause like. not relying on substances. but I don’t actually have skills rn to improve my issues so like. substances #are more helpful tbh 🙈

[coloradanum]

goofy silly moment. teehee.

#(tags vent) #god i’m so mad at myself for this mental health relapse. which is obviously. an unhealthy response that isn’t helping #but like i was doing really well for a couple of years there and now i just feel horrible all the time #and i don’t really have anyone to talk to about it either #my old therapist sucks and my one good friend is having a rough time so i want to give him space #can’t talk to my parents they suck too #i don’t know what changed? i guess actually it’s the fact that nothing has changed #i’m completely stagnant and i have no plan for the future #i’m doing exactly the same things i was a couple years ago and i haven’t made any progress #i need to just. change something. this house is part of it i fucking hate this house #and i hate not being able to drive but it terrifies me #and i hate being a pathetic loser high school dropout with no friends #like holy shit are you kidding? you’re 20 and you’re not driving or going to school or thinking about moving out? #obviously the grace i extend to others i refuse to extend to myself because this is objectively a very normal situation to be in #but it’s hard to tell myself that when every adult in my life is like deeply judgemental of it #yes i’m an inconvenience and a burden to everyone around me thank you for noticing #like the definition of a societal leech #at least i’m working. i think my work is meaningful. most of the time. #i hope the people i teach actually get something from it #because if not then i’m really truly fucked #wow i’m goddamn miserable. holy shit. i don’t see a way out #anyway. i need a hug and my own living space. god.

[sophism]

wait FIVE years of HS1 today !?????

#this time exactly five years ago I just finished listening to it for the first time. what the ACTUAL #passage of time stop it. for real stopppppp #brb crying to ESNY now this album is everything to meeee #she helped me get through and grow so much oh my goddd I’m gonna cry 🥺 #not to be deep about it but like.. not that he’s not great now but it was rly just so special to experience that time in real time <3 #witnessing the birth of this like total megastar before a lot of ppl had really cottoned onto him. mwah I miss it #like it was just sooooo special and I’ll always love that time so much it meant a lot to me. #everything else was a mess but that was the one pure light and comfort I had <3 #like I’m grateful I don’t really ~need~ it like that anymore but I would like to feel how that made me feel again lol #I do think my adult Harry resurgence was like me healing my inner teenager who got into 1D as a coping mechanism lol. now I can just breathe

[myfirstandlast]

im scared bc now that i’m essentially getting this public school job i know my body and mind have begun to settle into its fugue state where i have no thoughts and make no progress and waste literally all the time in the world because i just can’t imagine any other options it’s how i wasted four years with my major it’s how i ended up joining gr**k life it just feels like this is it and i trap myself

#let’s say i miraculously get a car and to move out post-september getting my license #it definitely won’t be until christmas at the earliest because i have to finish out the year #but as soon as the year is over my parents are back on my head about applying for master’s programs which i still don’t want to do #i don’t have a break to be free #and i’m certainly not gonna to be inspired to find my dream artistic lesbian job in middle of nowhere GA at an elementary school of all plac #like everyone too old or too young to understand me. no real work friends no real ACTUAL friends im just going to be going to work and going #home. oh lol i started crying typing. im really over talking into the void i need someone to hear me and help me #but even if up to that point EVERYTHING somehow falls into place. now i’m entirely alone with more bills no resources no one to call and no #idea what i want in any capacity. like i feel like a caged animal i feel insane #im falling into my coma of uselessness and i already lost the entirety of my adolescent young adult years i don’t want to lose my 20s too #not to be like 30 is ancient your life is over then obv not but i don’t care about what i do in my life at 30 and beyond #i want my life to be happy NOW i WANT the best of my life to be in my 20s where i can get away with the most stupid fun because i’m just #young and gay and i still have an excuse for not knowing what my life is yet. i cant breathe not knowing what i want to do but at least its #an excuse. i feel like dying i feel like my insides are rotting to black ash we’re social creatures and im suffering #i sound so stupid. i know i really know. but the people i see living the life i want carefree making money as it comes #have parents who lovingly text them who care but stay out of the way who are supportive but aren’t up your ass and down your neck #they’re just people that would raise kind smart independent individuals and im none of the above so i don’t have a good shot as it is #but i still want to be free. i want to die but i want to be free just a little before then #i hate my life. i hate waking up in my bed every day and seeing my bedroom and being in my house. i want it to be over

[rowanhoney]

so there I am looking into certain circumstances. Like if I were suddenly in a position to get a private assessment for my adhd. I’m entirely sure I would get a diagnosis because it’s astoundingly clear. And if I were to be put on medication it would cost me so so much. And you’d think oh but this is okay because then the private healthcare can share the diagnosis and treatment plan with the public healthcare and then I can get the public treatment my taxes pay for. Turns out this is not the case and gps can reject it under the pretence it “burdens” the surgery to provide you with the necessary care

#I’m fuming I’m really very crazy very mad #one of my friends is saying the same thing cos he has a diagnosis and was medicated for 7 years but in another country #and despite the diagnosis being valid internationally the nhs is like nope we don’t consider it necessary to help you #like. straight up. ableism #truly #like I CANNOT function day to day and it ruins my life #and I tried meds that I got errrrrrr in a way I shouldn’t #and won’t continue to have access to #but while using them I’ve been so sooooo productive like if I could regularly function like this it would be life changing!!! #there’s reports of people using what I took and saying they feel like they were functioning at 110% #and I’m ngl I feel like I’m more at 70% #like I’m simply managing to do a few of the things I need to do #but considering I feel like I usually max out at 15% and probs am 5% the majority of the time #70% is insane #like I actually??? made food?? I ate an actual meal?? I read a book? fucking madness #I think yes I’m going to do that thing. and that is the thing on my mind until I do it #and the activation barrier to do it is not in the way #like . fucking madness #I genuinely feel like. as an adult. with my usual level of functioning. I may very well destroy my life #but knowing what a day is like medicated makes me feel like I could be a regular member of society #I’m thinking abt the spoons analogy #like . I can go to work. and I don’t do everything I need to but I do a good job overall. and that’s it. outside of work I can’t do anything #I can’t cook or shower or socialise or anything cos 5 hours is 15 mins and my days off just disappear and I’m so insanely fatigued. #I’m desperate to function and I’m sooooo so angry this just. isn’t an option for me

[eternally-racing]

baby steps | lando norris

pairing: lando norris x wife!reader (plus their adorable lil kiddo) 

genre: fluff

warnings: none 

word count: 2.5k

summary: Lando needs a little bit of encouragement to head off to his first race after the birth of your daughter, so what better thing to do than surprise him on race day?

note: this fic can be read as a stand alone or as part of the racer girl series !

---

When you first showed Lando the two lines on your positive pregnancy test, your entire world had changed. It felt like such a whirlwind of excitement, and before you knew it you were 9 months pregnant watching Lando’s races on television. It was pure luck that your water only broke the day after the season ended, which meant that Lando had a cherished couple of months with your baby girl, Piper, before heading back to racing. 

The two of them had become quite the dynamic duo in your household. From the moment that Lando first looked at your daughter, he knew that he was in love. He was an amazing father and you told him exactly that at every moment you could. It was one of the biggest fears that Lando had, being an absent father or not knowing what to do. Before you met Lando he was fully in his bachelor lifestyle, not once even thinking of kids, but now he was the biggest girl dad you’ve ever seen, giving into your daughter’s every whim. It’s exactly why Lando says he wants to give up racing all together once he sees your daughter cry for the first time when he leaves to go to the MTC for the first time since she was born - he would do anything for Piper, he would give up everything he loved if it meant that his little girl would be happy. Luckily, he had you to keep him grounded, and after more than a couple of tearful conversations you had helped Lando make peace with continuing on with his career with you and your daughter there to support him in the background. This was the first week that this was truly going to be tested though, since it was finally time for him to fly to Bahrain. 

“Say goodbye to daddy!” you say as you pick up your daughter’s hand to make her wave. 

You can see the way the wheels are turning in Lando’s head as he stays frozen in the entryway. He’s not forgetting anything, there’s no way he could with your packing lists that he’s used for every single race since you started dating. Even if he did forget something, he knows he could easily get someone from the team to either shop for him or send it over.

“Y/N I - , I don’t know anymore about this,” Lando mutters with his grip on the door handle loosening. 

“Lan, cmon now, I can’t have two babies in this house at once.” you joke as you pinch his cheek. “But seriously, you’re gonna be okay? Just do your best out there. I’m only a phone call away all the time if you need me. You’re going to be great and we’re cheering you on from here. I’ll send you all the pictures and videos and everything so it’ll feel like you’re still with us.”

While Piper can’t talk yet, she still reaches out to Lando to gently pat his shoulder - which only brings more tears to the forefront of Lando’s eyes. He always said his daughter was smart beyond her years, able to sense things even some adults don’t notice. 

“What if Piper can’t fall asleep without me reading her story? What if she learns how to walk before I’m gone? Or what if she forgets that I even exist?” 

“First off, I have memorized “the Rainbow Fish” perfectly from the 7 different times you taught me it. She’s not going to walk because she’s barely 8 months old. And lastly, she’s not going to forget you Lando, I promise you that. Do you trust me?” 

Lando doesn’t miss a beat when he says “always.” 

You hand your daughter off to Lando’s arms in exchange for the carry on that’s currently in his hands. You know that all he needs to do is hold her, to remember that feeling of being with her so he can keep that memory with him for the week ahead. You’re not the only one who’s noticed the way that Piper always immediately seems to calm down whenever she’s in her dad’s arms. There was something special between the two of them, something so unbreakable - which is exactly what you tell Lando. 

“Plus I think she’s in that phase where she’s starting to like you better, so I could use some alone time with our little bug” you tease as you squish your daughter’s cheeks. When Lando sees you cracking jokes it makes him feel a little more at ease - if you were so comfortable with this then why shouldn’t he be too? With one last hug and kiss, Lando finally walks out the door with a promise to facetime you once he gets to the airport. 

Piper starts crying the second she realizes that her dad is really gone, and honestly you shed a few tears too.

 “Don’t worry Pipes, we’re going to see daddy sooner than you think,” you whisper to your daughter as you try to soothe her. Little did Lando know that you had a bag packed in your bedroom for you and your daughter to surprise him at the paddock on race day.

—

The expectations were low for Lando in Bahrain, both from the media and from himself. He had been very upfront about having different priorities this summer than just racing, so he had been a write-off in so many people’s minds. That’s what made it even sweeter when Lando saw the checkered flag first in Bahrain, marking the very first time he had ever won at the circuit. It’s no secret that Lando had become more sensitive since he had become a dad, but when he says “This one is for my girls, I love you Y/N and Piper” over the radio, it brings tears to everyone’s eyes. 

Lando is already over the moon. He gives a big cheer to the roaring crowd before going to hug the rest of the team. It’s absolutely electric and it really seems like everyone, regardless of whether they are a McLaren fan or not, could appreciate how much this win meant to him. 

But the sweetest moment is when he spots you. You’re a little bit off to the side, a couple of security guards standing around you to make sure that nobody would try and trample over you and Piper. Little Piper is wearing a pair of noise canceling McLaren branded headphones on her ears as she hangs out happily in your arms. It’s like she spots her dad at the same time too, since she starts waving her arms in Lando’s direction. Lando immediately stops everything he’s doing to run over to you two. You have a knowing look in your eye, like you were just waiting for him to finally spot you both. 

“Oh my god, you’re here.”  Lando lets out a breath he didn’t even know he was holding. Having you both here makes him finally feel complete, like his heart was finally whole again. 

“There’s no way we were going to miss daddy’s first race of the season. Congratulations, babe” 

Lando has questions of course - how you managed to pull this off without him noticing, whether Piper gave you trouble on the plane, and so much more. For now, though, he just wants to spend time with you two. He almost forgets that he’s at the race entirely, let alone that he won it until a team member comes up behind him to ask him if he’s ready to do his interview 5 minutes from now. 

When Piper reaches over with her little grabby hands for Lando, you of course give into her whims as you pass her over to the sweaty driver. It also gives you a second to pull out your phone and capture the moment for yourself. Piper is playing with the visor on Lando’s helmet, learning a new form of peek a boo that you know that she’s going to want to keep playing when you get home. You’re the one who helps keep Lando on track, giving him one last kiss on his helmet before you tell him to head off towards the hoard of media personnel eagerly awaiting his appearance. When you go to take Piper back from him she refuses to budge, and with both Piper and Lando giving you their classic puppy dog eyes, you know you’re outnumbered. 

“Keep her safe, Lan, okay?” It’s a rhetorical question. You know that Lando wouldn’t let anything happen to her - but it’s still a big crowd, the biggest you’ve ever been since you gave birth, and it’s a little scary to not hold onto her here. 

You don’t think anyone has ever seen Will Buxton this happy as he pulls Lando aside for his post-race interview. 

“I have to say, congratulations on an absolutely brilliant drive from you today, Lando - and would you like to introduce the special guest you’ve brought with you?” Will asks with a grin. 

Lando can’t help the similar smile that is etched on his face as he looks at his little girl. “This is my daughter Piper, and she’s just the best thing that has ever happened to me. And I can’t share enough praise for my beautiful wife Y/N too - words can’t describe how much she means to me.I really wouldn’t be standing here in front of you today without her support.”  Lando looks back at you with a smile and kisses Piper on the cheek to end off his sentence, but Piper seems to be more interested in the texture of the mic than her dad at the moment. 

“What does it mean to you to have this be your first win as a father, Lando?” 

“Oh man, this little girl is everything to me - I just want to do my best on the track so that Piper can look back and always be proud to have me as her dad.” 

The moment is made extra sweet as Piper tosses and turns in Lando’s hold so that she can cling to him like a koala bear, pulling herself further into Lando’s chest. She is starting to like the microphone just as much as Lando, so she pulls her face right onto it before she says her very first word - “dada”.

At first Lando thinks he’s hallucinating - there’s so many people around and there’s so much noise that he can barely hear himself think. But then Piper says it again and he can’t help but start to cry.

“She -, she- called me dada, oh my god I can’t believe it,” Lando’s in pure disbelief as he stares in awe at his little girl and looks back at you watching in the crowd. For a minute he forgets that there’s a full corral of people watching him until he hears a collective “awww” from the crowd.  “Sorry it’s just -, wow, she’s never done that before.” he says sincerely as he wipes the tears from his cheeks.

It’s now Piper’s turn to cry as she gets overwhelmed with all the eyes that are staring at her, pushing the microphone away from her as she buries her head into Lando’s shoulder. She is just a little kid, after all. Lando wraps up the interview as fast as he can, apologizing as he whisks Piper away to try and lift her spirits. 

Luckily it’s time to head into the cooldown room, which proves to be the perfect place for Piper to calm down from her outburst. The antics continue there as Lando bounces Piper on her lap, pointing to the TV screen to show her all the highlights. 

“Look at daddy about to overtake uncle Charles! And there’s uncle Alex, and uncle George...” Lando continues to retell the story of the last two hours as the other two podium sitters, Max and Oscar, chime in intermittently. Sometimes Piper’s gaze falls to Lando’s new hat instead of the screen, but he’s happy to have her in the room with him to share this moment. 

You have to really bargain with Lando to get him to hand Piper back to you so he can head to the podium by himself - it’s only at the rational explanation of not wanting your baby covered in champagne that he finally gives in to reason. Piper loves seeing the celebrations on the podium, adding in some cheers of her own when she sees her dad jumping up and down with joy on the podium. The little girl is addicted to the shine of the Bahrain trophy in the sun and you and Lando both later joke that she likes the piece of metal better than the both of you combined. 

It’s no surprise that Piper falls asleep on the car ride home - you do the same next to her as the jet lag catches up to you both. Piper still keeps one hand firmly on the trophy, having barely let it out of her sight since Lando brought it to her. Lando can’t help but feel so lucky as he looks through the rearview mirror at the both of you. 

It never gets any easier - leaving. The next weekend Lando heads to the United States and Piper cries the whole day once she notices that he’s packing a suitcase. You’re honest with Lando when you tell him that you’ll see him once he gets back, there’s no way you and Piper would be able to handle all the time changes and long haul flights that would come with going to every race.

You still watch every race though, throwing sleep training to the wind as Piper often stays up at all odd hours to watch with you. There are so many moments where you wish that you could be there with Lando, especially with the season he’s having. As the journalists would say, Lando’s “dad powers” have brought him his best ever start to a Formula 1 season, as he has yet to finish outside the top 3 so far. 

“What do you think is going to happen when I don’t come home from a trip with one of those?” Lando jokes as he sees your daughter absolutely enamored with the newest addition to her trophy collection. It’s the Australian GP trophy, which proves to be the perfect vessel for Piper to put her cereal pieces into. The little girl has taken to yelling as her new favorite hobby, and she shows it off every time she squeals with joy when Lando walks through the door after a race.

“I don’t want to find out, so you’ll just have to keep getting podiums, Lan” you joke back as you lean your head onto his shoulder. 

----

author's note: oh man, this has been sitting in my drafts FOREVER as i tried to perfect it but i really wanted to share it with you all. Thanks for all the love - asks are open if you want to say hello or make a request! Until next time! - Em 🤍

#lando norris #f1 imagine #lando norris x reader #lando norris x you #ln4 #f1 fluff #f1 fic #formula 1 #f1 x reader #lando norris fluff #lando norris x y/n #lando norris imagine #ln4 imagine #f1 fanfic #mclaren f1 #lando x reader #lando imagine #lando fluff #formula one #ln4 x reader

[joelsgreys]

weakness

Post Outbreak! Joel Miller x Female Reader

summary: An afternoon at Bill and Frank’s place takes one hell of an unexpected turn for you and Joel when hidden feelings start coming to the surface.

warnings/tags: 18+ ONLY, MINORS DNI. BOSTON QZ ERA JOEL. AGE GAP (reader is in her 20’s and Joel is in his early 50’s). mentions of reader having longer hair/her hair gets brushed, reader wears a dress, no specific mention of reader’s size, but there is a brief mention of the dress fitting loose on her, Frank is sweet and makes her feel pretty, Bill is a grump, Joel is kind of soft, hidden feelings. dashes of angst, fluff, and an abundance of Frank being an absolute angel.

MOODBOARD FOR AESTHETIC PURPOSES ONLY. NO MENTION OF RACE OR BODY TYPE.

word count: 5.7k

“Can you stop fidgeting for just one second, please?” Frank scolds you lightly, bringing down the palm of his hand onto your shoulder in a small, quick slap in an attempt to get you to stop squirming. He then moves his hands back up to your hair, which is out of its usual braid and towel dried after a much, much needed wash. The sickeningly sweet scent of the floral shampoo you’d used in the shower earlier that afternoon lingers deliciously in the air around you, a refreshing and welcome change from what your hair normally smells like—grime and smoke from hours of work detail in the Boston QZ. After coming out all of the stubborn tangles that he can find, Frank then picks up a boar hairbrush and he carefully begins to run it through your locks. He starts from the roots of your hair and brings the natural bristles down, all the way through to your ends. He chuckles and says, “You know, I would be done a hell of a lot quicker if you would just sit still.”

You sigh softly, but impatiently, allowing yourself one final, uncomfortable little shuffle in the white wicker chair he has you perched on before finally giving into his request. “Alright, alright, I’m sorry,” you mumble You bring your knees up against your chest and exhale another small sigh. You can’t see his face, but you can picture the smug, satisfied smile on Franke’s face as he continues brushing your hair. “So, tell me again why we’re even doing this?” you question him just a minute later, as if he hasn’t already explained it to you about a hundred times—he wants to do something special for you. “It kind of seems like a complete waste of time, don’t you think so?”

“We’re doing this because you deserve to get dolled up for once in your adult life,” Frank states in a matter of fact tone. The world had ended when you’d been about seven years old, and he’d imagined that since then, you’d never done a single damn thing for your appearance—besides the occasional at home haircut you would give yourself every few months with an old pair of rusted shears. He’d have been absolutely right about that. “And besides, it’s something of a special occasion today,” he adds. “It’s the first day of spring. The weather outside is stunning, our flowers are finally in full bloom, and we have a nice outdoor lunch planned to celebrate the new season.”

You can’t help the way the corners of your mount turn upwards into a small smile. One might think it was all rather silly, given it was the end of the world and all, but you have to admit, you admire the way Frank manages to find genuine happiness and joy in the little things, like warm sunshine on the first day of spring. Or showing a friend what a proper hairbrush looks like. He has such a beautiful soul, something that very, very few people in this new world possess. 

“Your hair is so healthy,” Frank observes a few minutes later, setting the hairbrush aside. Taking two handfuls of your hair from the front, he twists them gently and brings them around to the back of your head. He then secures them with a clear, elastic band and runs his fingers through your soft locks, maneuvering your hair until it cascades perfectly around your shoulders. Frank walks around your chair to face you, fussing until he makes sure that every stand is neatly in place. He smiles. “You should wear your hair down more often, you know. It really suits you.”

“Long, loose hair and work detail are a recipe for disaster,” you laugh, shaking your head at him. “Most of the work sites in the zone require anyone who has longer hair to keep it tied back, anyway.” You push your legs out away from your chest and plant your feet firmly on the floor. “Listen, Frank. I really do appreciate what you’re trying to do for me. I really do,” you swear. “It’s incredibly sweet, but there’s really no point. In just a few hours, Joel and I are going to have to head back into Boston where my hair goes back into its braid and I have to change back into my normal clothes.”

“Exactly. So how about you just zip it and enjoy this while it lasts?” he suggests with a tiny, cheeky grin.

“But Frank—”

“Honey, this is a fight you simply aren’t going to win, so hush. Now, come with me.” He takes your hand, pulling you out of the chair and up to your feet. “Close your eyes,” he instructs, and with a reluctant sigh, you do as you’re told. Frank leads you over towards the full length mirror in the far corner of his and Bill’s bedroom. “Okay. One, two, three—open your eyes.”

Your eyes flutter open and your mouth parts slightly in surprise. 

“What the fuck,” you murmur underneath your breath, taken aback by the reflection in the mirror. The young woman staring back at you, she looks absolutely nothing like you. The hair, the hint of blush on your cheekbones—the color he’d found was one one that flatters the tone of your skin—and the thin coat of decades old mascara that he’d applied to your eyelashes; the tube had been bone fucking dry, but Frank used a few drops of water to bring it back to life, swearing up and down it was fine to put near your eyes. And then there was the dress, the goddamn dressed he’d force you into. His favorite part of the makeover and your least favorite. 

“Wait until you see what I found for you to wear,” he’d told you, giddy as if it were him who would be donning a new outfit. “You’re going to love it!”

Skeptical, you had asked, “Am I though?”

Frank had gone to the boutique and found you a dress to wear, and while it was just a tad loose on your frame, he insisted that it would look just fine on you with the help of a safety pin hidden at the back of it, pulling the fabric taut. It was simple enough, white with a subtle sweetheart neckline and thin straps that tied together at your shoulders. The delicate lace fell down in a flowing skirt to just a few inches above your knees and it itched like hell, especially at your sides. Wanting to add a finishing touch to the outfit, Frank had brought you a pair of brown, strappy sandals and he’d let you know that he had a couple of different color options for a cardigan in the event it became too chilly outside. 

“You look perfect,” he gushes. “Like a daydream!”

You look different. But that isn’t what brought on the shock. More than anything, you’re completely taken aback by how fucking normal you look. 

Sure, coming over to Bill and Frank’s always gave you a temporary sense of normalcy. They always allowed you to take a hot shower, gave you the opportunity  to properly wash your hair and change out of your dirty shirt into a new clean one. They always provided you with a warm meal presented on porcelain dishware that wasn’t stained or chipped like the shit you had back home in your crumbling apartment in Boston. You’d had several tastes of normal thanks to those two, but this drastic change to your appearance was overwhelming. Too overwhelming.

You’d never thought that you could look like this, not in this fucking lifetime. 

Frank immediately picks up on your emotions, senses how you’re feeling. Standing behind you, he places his two hands on your shoulders and leans his head forward, pressing his cheek against yours as his kind eyes meet your tearful gaze in the mirror. “You look absolutely beautiful,” he whispers, giving your shoulders a gentle squeeze. “I really hope you feel beautiful. You deserve it. You deserve so much more, but if I can at least give you this much, then my mission is accomplished.”

You open your mouth to speak, but words fall short. Afraid that you might burst into tears on the spot, you clamp your mouth shut and give him the tiniest little nod of your head accompanied by a quivering smile of gratitude. 

Frank smiles back. “Good. Now, come on, let’s go out front and have lunch.” His hands fall from your shoulders and he ushers you out into the hallway and towards the staircase. Looking over his shoulder, he gives you a wink. “I’m really eager to see what your man thinks of your new look.”

“What?” you sputter, almost tripping over your own two feet. “Who—you mean, Joel?”

Shit. You’d almost forgotten about Joel.

What the hell is he going to say when he sees you like this?

What’s he going to think?

Probably that you look utterly fucking ridiculous, that’s what.

“Who else would I be talking about? Bill?” Frank snorts. “Yes, I’m talking about Joel.”

You glare at his back. This isn’t the first time Frank has teased you about Joel Miller, and despite the countless times you’ve sworn to him that there was nothing going on between the two of you, he insists on believing otherwise, adamant that there has to be something more there. “Don’t start with this shit again. He is not my man, and you damn well know that.”

“He might as well be,” Frank shrugs his shoulders nonchalantly as he leads you down the staircase.

“Frank, I’m being serious,” you say. Normally, weren’t so uptight about it all, but today, you’re not finding his antics amusing in the slightest, not while you’re wearing goop on your face and sporting a fucking dress. “I’ve told you a million times that there is nothing going on between me and Joel. He’s my partner.” You pause briefly, realizing how that must have sounded, and add in emphasis, “He’s my work partner. We work together, Frank. We smuggle shit together. That’s it.”

Frank stops at the bottom of the staircase and turns to you, letting out a curious hum. “Hmm. And if I remember correctly, you two also live together, you sleep in the same bed together, you spend every waking moment from sunrise to fucking sunset together—I have never heard of two work partners being that close, sweetheart.”

Stubborn, you shake your head. “He’s like fifty!”

“The world ended and that’s your concern? An age gap?” he questions. “Really?”

“Frank,” you plead his name, groaning. “I swear it. We’re nothing to each other. Joel is—well, he’s Joel. He’s not exactly the type of man who does that. You know, feelings and shit.”

He throws his head back slightly, letting out a loud laugh that echoes through the foyer of his home. “Oh, trust me. I know that much. Between you and me, I have to say that he reminds me a whole lot of Bill,” he muses. He notices the horrified expression that crosses your face and laughs again, holding up his hands in defense. “Wait a minute, just hear me out. They’re polar opposites in some ways, but in most ways, they’re almost the same fucking person. Joel is just like Bill. Cranky. Grumpy. He hates everyone and everything. Kind of man who’ll stab someone if they so much as look at him the wrong way. Would you say that’s pretty accurate?”

“Yeah, sounds like Joel Miller,” you have to admit. As much as you did not want to think of Joel being the same person as Bill, Frank had a pretty good point.

“But Joel also reminds me of Bill because he’s the kind of man who means well when it comes to the people that he cares about. The kind of man who will do whatever it takes to protect what is his,” he further explains. He pauses and then asks, “Let me ask you something. You trust him, right?”

You don’t even miss a beat, answering, “Of course. With my life.”

He ticks his  index finger at you. “Aha! Exactly!” he exclaims. “You know that Joel would never let anyone lay so much as a finger on you. He’d never let anything bad happen to you. And why is that?”

You stare at him blankly, unsure of how to respond. “Is this a trick question?”

Huffing, Frank rolls his eyes and lets out a disappointed sigh, as if you’d missed the obvious. “It’s because you mean something to him, sweetheart. Whether you choose to let yourself believe it or not, you mean something to Joel Miller.”

For a moment, it feels like all the wind’s been knocked out of you. 

Could Frank actually be right? 

Do you actually mean something to Joel?

No, that was impossible. Joel Miller doesn’t give a shit about anyone or anything—all he cares about is surviving long enough to find Tommy again one day, and even then, he never speaks of his younger brother too kindly. He’s been hardened by this world, closed himself off, put up a barrier around himself that nothing can permeate. Not even you.

“Under that tough, rugged exterior, there’s a soft spot. It’s there, for you and only for you.” Frank’s eyes glimmer, speaking a truth he’s been wanting to tell you for the better part of the last several months. “You might need to do some digging to find it, but it’s there.”

“I just don’t understand why you would think that,” you confess, shaking your head. “Joel has never said anything to me to indicate that I mean something to him. More often than not, I find myself wondering if even considering us to be friends is too generous.” You cross your arms over your chest, growing uncomfortable under his knowing stare. “Yes, Joel looks out for me, but that’s only because we work together so well. I know my way around. He needs me, especially if he plans on getting to Tommy.”

Frank bites his bottom lip, stifling another laugh.

“What? What’s so funny?”

“Oh, sweetheart. You don’t even realize it, do you?”

Your eyebrows knit together, confused. “What? Realize what?”

“You are his weakness.”

He’d said it so simply, and yet there goes the rest of your air leaving your lungs, an invisible first driving itself right into your gut. 

“Of course Joel isn’t going to tell you how he feels about you. He’s afraid,” Frank remarks, sounding so sure as if he had been told that by Joel Miller himself.

“You’re wrong. Joel isn’t afraid of anything,” you counter in the steadiest voice you can muster. “You’re wrong, Frank.”

“He’s afraid because he knows how dangerous it is, having a weakness in the form of a person he cares about more than anything can be in a world like this.” Any trace of teasing or playfulness had disappeared from Frank’s expression. He speaks gently, but with purpose, with such seriousness that it makes your heart sink further and further down into the pits of your stomach.

When you speak again, your voice is strained, thick with emotions you’re trying so desperately to shove down. “Frank, you really need to put down the fucking romance novels.” Before he can say another word to you about it, you place a hand lightly on your stomach. “I’m really hungry. Can we go eat now? Please?”

Thankfully, he gets the hint to drop the subject.

“Of course. Come on” Frank takes your hand. He opens the front door and leads you outside and onto the freshly landscaped front lawn. He had been right, the flowers were in full bloom—the small, round table he’d set was positioned in a perfect spot so that no matter where anyone sat, they would have a view of the colorful roses and azaleas he and Bill had planted around the perimeter of the yard.

As soon as he sees you two approaching, Bill throws up his hands in a dramatic fashion. “It’s about goddamn time!” He grouches loudly. “Jesus Christ, Frank. I’m fucking starving!”

“Sorry, got caught up inside.” Frank tosses his partner a sweet smile as he releases your hand. “But look, I found myself something pretty!”

Heat floods your cheeks. You should have known better than to think he wasn’t going to make a fuss about your new appearance. “Frank, please. Don’t.”

“Oh come now, you know I have to show you off!”

Joel, whose back had been turned towards you, furrows his eyebrows and he glances over his shoulder, looking to see what Frank was referring to. His dark brown eyes widen just ever so slightly, the grip around his glass of red wine tightening in complete surprise at the sight of you. Frank had failed, quite miserably, to convince him to dress up for the occasion, but at the very least, he’d talked him into wearing one of the nicer shirts he'd found at the boutique, a neatly pressed, sage green button up with long sleeves that, much to Frank’s chagrin, Joel had rolled up to his elbows. His graying, dark brown curls  might have even had a comb run through them, but it;s  difficult to tell if the way his thick locks were effortlessly disheveled was natural or the result of his efforts to tame them.

“What do you think, Joel?” Frank beams proudly, as if presenting the man with one of his painted art pieces.

Joel doesn’t respond. His eyes remain glued on you, following as you walk around the table and take your usual place beside him.

“Way to put me on the spot, Frank,” you mutter, your face growing warmer and warmer with every second that ticks by. You silently urge yourself to get a grip as you reach for the crisp, white cloth napkin next to your plate and drape it over your lap. The smoked, wild rabbit Bill had cooked up for lunch  smells heavenly—Frank knows  it’s  your absolute favorite dish, and so he had made sure Bill put it on today’s menu, bless his heart. 

Joel still hasn’t uttered a single word. Part of you hopes he wouldn’t.

“Joel?” Frank prompts as he picks up his own cloth napkin. “Doesn’t she look pretty?”

You glare daggers at him from across the table and hiss, “Frank!”

Finally, Joel sets down his glass of wine and turns slowly, angling his body towards yours. When he speaks, his voice is low, but clear as day as he looks at you, “Yeah. She looks very pretty.”

His eyes flicker up to meet yours, causing your heart to skip a beat inside of your chest and a strange warmth to bloom in your belly. 

Had he actually meant that?

“You look real nice,” he adds, giving you a subtle nod of his head. He lets his sights linger on you for another moment before tearing his gaze away. He then turns back to the table, picking up his glass of wine once again, chugging what’s left of it before reaching for the bottle to pour himself another. 

Bill clears his throat roughly. “Well, if everyone’s done playing dress up, I’d really like to fucking eat now.”

Meals with Bill and Frank were always pleasant. 

Well, meals with Frank were always pleasant.

 Although Bill had gotten used to having you and Joel over as guests and didn’t see either of you as a threat anymore, he still preferred to keep you both at arm’s length, a choice you two respected. He hardly ever said much and often chose to let his partner do all the talking unless the conversation had anything to do with trading supplies. Only then would he step in. 

As you’d tucked into your meal of wild rabbit and garden vegetables, you could feel Joel throwing subtle glances your way every so often. It was half expected that he would, seeing as he’d never seen you like this before. He was so used to seeing you in tattered, dirty old clothes with dirt and grime caked onto your skin and in your hair. 

Surely, he must have felt like he was sitting next to a complete stranger, not his smuggling partner.

About an hour later, once everyone has finished eating, you offer to help Frank clear and clean up the table and wash the dishes. He settles for letting you help him bring everything inside, but shoos you away before you can even think about lifting another finger. “Don’t worry, I’ve got it,” he says, waving you away from the kitchen sink with his hands. “You and Joel are taking off in just a couple hours, so go on and get some rest,” he suggests. “Oh, by the way, we found some new books to add to the collection. Might find something you like. Go ahead and check them out.”

“But I forgot my library card at home,” you joke lamely, although it earns you a sincere laugh from your friend. You pad out of the kitchen and into the living room, straight over towards a grand oak bookshelf that is packed tightly to the brim with dozens and dozens of books of various genres. You hadn’t been all that much of a reader before, but thanks to Frank, who always sent you home with at least two or three works in your pack, reading had become one of your favorite hobbies over the last few months, a sweet little escape that took you out of your shoddy apartment in the zone and into another world. You start searching the titles for the new finds he’d mentioned. Spotting one of them, you pluck it from the shelf, a paperback titled, A Midsummer Night’s Dream. Opening it up, you begin thumbing through the pages, quickly realizing that it’s play—you’ve never read a play before. Still not convinced if it’s one you would like to take home with you, you flip back to the first page and start reading with a curious little hum. 

You had been so preoccupied with it that you hadn’t noticed Joel standing behind you, leaning against the doorframe with his arms crossed over his chest until he clears his throat, and asks, “Find somethin’ good?”

Startled, you whirl around, nearly dropping the book in your hands. “Jesus Christ, Joel,” you breathe out, clutching it tightly against your chest as your heart rate slows. “Don’t sneak up on me like that!”

“Not my fuckin’ fault you were too busy with your nose buried in a book,” he states, trying his hardest to fight the small smirk threatening to cross his lips. He uncrosses his arms and pushes himself away from the doorframe.

A chuckle escapes you, almost nervously, as he slowly starts walking over towards you, his brown boots heavy on the hardwood floor. He takes the book from your hands, humming as he reads the cover. “Shakespeare, huh?”

“You know Shakespeare?” you toss him a teeny, lopsided smile as you tease, “He from your time?”

Joel lightly smacks your arm with the worn paperback. “Yeah, I know Shakespeare and he was about four hundred fuckin’ years before my time, thank you very much.” He flips it over, eyes skimming the text on the back. “Had the world not gone to shit, you would’ve grown up and spent your entire middle school career being forced by English teachers to read all his shit and write essays tryin’ to interpret it all.” He hands it back over to you. “Here.”

“Sounds like a real fucking dream,” you deadpan. You glance down, running your index finger down the spine of the book. You’re trying, almost painfully, to ignore how Joel’s eyes glaze over you from head to toe. 

“Y’know, it’s kinda nice,” he remarks quietly, breaking the brief moment of silence that had fallen over the two of you. “Seein’ you like this.”

You keep your eyes fixed on the book and scoff. “What? In a dress?”

“When we’re here, you let your guard down. Ain’t always lookin’ over your shoulder. You smile a hell of a lot more.” He pauses, then adds, “You look happy here. Sure, this dress looks nice on you. Your smile looks even fuckin’ better, though.”

Your breath hitches in your throat. More than his words, it’s the genuine tone in which he had said them—you’d never even realized Joel noticed things like that. Whether you were happy or not, how often you smiled. Or didn’t smile.

You force a small chuckle. “It’s the only sense of normalcy that we get. Of course I look happy when we’re here. Because I am happy when we’re here.” Still refusing to meet his gaze, you turn around and walk over to the couch towards your pack. Opening the top, you quickly shove the book inside. 

When you hear Joel’s footsteps coming up behind you, you stiffen slightly.

“Frank, he adores the hell outta you,” Joel says. He seems to hesitate, but then continues, “You ever think of askin’ him to stay here?”

“You kidding?” You snort in response. “Bill wouldn’t allow that. Never.”

Joel’s hands go to his hips, knowing you had a point. “But you know Frank can convince him of almost anythin’, don’t you? And besides, believe it or not, Bill actually likes you. He loves Frank more than anythin’ and you make Frank happy.”

You finally turn around to face and find yourself caught off guard by how close he’s standing to you. “Joel, what exactly are you getting at?” You raise an eyebrow before playfully asking, “Are you trying to get rid of me or something, Miller?”

Joel quickly shakes his head. “Of course not. All I’m sayin’ is that—” He stops and lowers his voice, just in case Bill or Frank happen to be wandering nearby. “I like seein’ this side of you. The happy side. The normal side.” He shrugs his shoulders, the lean muscles of his upper body flexing with the movement against the smooth fabric of his shirt. “Seein’ you all cleaned up, well fed and content—” He trails off once again. “Shouldn’t be a rare occurrence, y’know? You’d clearly be better off here with them and you know that with Frank’s help, we could probably talk Bill into letting you stay.”

The second you realize he’s being serious, your smile fades.

“What? But what about you?”

“Darlin’, Frank’s good, but he’s not a goddamn miracle worker. Even if he tried, that’s not somethin’ Bill would ever go for,” Joel admits, lifting a hand and raking his fingers through his hair. “And even if he did, we’d fuckin’ kill each other by the end of the first week.”

Bill and Joel being neighbors?

Talk about a different kind of apocalypse, you think to yourself.

“I know that much,” you reply with a tiny eye roll. “What I mean is, do you honestly think that I would leave my life in Boston?”

“That ain’t no fuckin’ life—”

You hold up a hand, stopping him. “I know it’s not. But it’s my life with you, Joel.”

The rough creases on his forehead suddenly soften. That was the first time you’d ever seen that happen.

The scowl on his face wasn’t permanent after all.

“Yes, this is nice. This patch of town, this house, the running water, the food, the clothes—this is a decent life. More than decent. In this world that we’re living in, this place is heaven. But without you, all of it would mean absolutely nothing to me. I wouldn’t be happy here, not without you.”

Joel tilts his head back, shaking it lightly. “Think about what you’re sayin’ here.”

“I know what I’m saying.” Before your brain and your body can even make the connection, you find yourself taking a step towards him, shrinking the gap between your bodies even further. You glance up at him, somehow finally finding the courage to have your eyes meet his. “I refuse to leave your side, Joel. That’s never going to happen. Not if I can fucking help it. Do you understand that?”

Joel exhales the breath he’d been holding, his warm breath tickling your face.

“I mean it, Joel. We’re in this shitty ass fucking world, together. No little slice of heaven could ever get me to leave you behind, no matter how good it is,” you declare, silently wondering to yourself where the hell you were even finding the balls to confess all of this to him. “Okay?”

“You’d be safer here than in the QZ, with all that shit’s that been goin’ down—”

“I’m the safest when I’m with you, Joel. I know I am.”

You lift your hand to his face. At first, there’s minor hesitation on your part, but you will yourself to place it on his cheek. Although your touch is gentle, Joel can’t help but wince. Not because he doesn’t want you to touch him, but because it had been so fucking  long since anyone had ever touched him like that. 

Since he’d let anyone touch him like that. 

He closes his eyes and after a second or two of resisting, he finally allows himself to relax his tense muscles and he sinks  into your touch.

Joel lets himself savor the feeling of your hand on his face. His bottom lip gives a subtle tremble when you softly start to graze your thumb down along his jawline. His beard, which you often playfully tease him about now that it’s beginning to gray just like his hair, feels rough and scratchy, and yet somehow still soft underneath your fingertips.

“Hey,” you murmur, and he forces his eyes to snap open. “We’re in this together. That’s how it’s been and that’s how it’s going to stay,” you assure him. “My place is with you, Joel.”

Joel manages to speak through tight lips, his voice strained. “You really fuckin’ gotta stop talkin’ to me like that, darlin’.”

You carefully move your hand away from his face, letting it drop back down to your side. “Why?”

“‘Cause. Shit like that is dangerous.”

“Dangerous,” you repeat, almost laughing. “Of all the things—”

Then, Frank’s words from earlier come to mind.

He’s afraid because he knows how dangerous it is, having a weakness in the form of a person he cares about more than anything can be in a world like this.

Joel’s dark eyes flicker to the strap of your dress, noticing it had started sliding off your shoulder. Before he can even think to stop himself, he reaches out and pulls it up back into place, his rough, calloused fingers brushing against your smooth skin. “You’re so soft,” he murmurs under his breath. All those fucking years of working with you, even sharing a bed together, and he had no idea of what it was like to touch you.

“Joel…” 

Your heart had all but climbed up into your throat.

“Everythin’ you just said a minute ago, ‘bout not wanting to stay here without me,” he starts to say, “I know that it’s fuckin’ selfish of me, but I’m real glad you said it. ‘Cause no way in hell do I want a life without you. I know it’s wrong but—”

Placing your hands delicately on his shoulders, you lift yourself up on your toes and cut him off mid-sentence by pressing your lips softly against his. The clean scent of the soap Frank had given him to shower with fills your senses and you yearn to have more of him, you nearly ache to get a real taste of him—but your courage only went so far. Thankfully, Joel knows to take over from here. One of his arms snakes  its way around your waist, pulling you flush against his chest while the other reaches up, the warm palm of his hand pressing against your cheek. His tongue swipes lightly across your bottom lip, silently asking for permission to explore your mouth just a little bit further.

You eagerly grant him access, half expecting his mouth to ravage yours.

Much to your surprise, Joel remains gentle.

The way that he kisses you, the way he holds your body against his, the way his large hand—the same hand that slits throats and breaks bones—delicately cradles the side of your face like you’re made of porcelain. 

“Joel,” you nearly whimper his name when he breaks away.

His face remains just inches from yours.

“Fuck,” he mutters, leaning his forehead against yours, fighting to catch his breath. “We’ll need to get goin’ soon.”

“I know.” You nod, hoping you don’t sound as disappointed as you feel. You can sense that Joel, much like yourself, is  at war with himself over what had just happened. Not that either of you regretted it, at least you certainly don’t, but the realization that you two have just crossed a line you’ll never come back from was daunting.

Joel lifts his head, lightly pressing his lips against your forehead. He then forces himself to release you from his arms and steps back, dropping them back down at his sides. “I need to, uh, I need to go get some things from Bill. Y’know, get my pack ready before we take off.”

You nod again. “I’ll start changing and get another pack of supplies ready as well.” You pause, clearing your throat awkwardly. “Joel, about what just happened—”

He silently shakes his head before leaning down, capturing your mouth with his.

This kiss is short and quick, and when he pulls away, he says nothing. He turns on the heel of his boot and disappears, heading out to meet Bill in the garage. 

Your hand flies to your mouth, your fingers lightly touching your lips.

“Well, well, well.”

Looking over your shoulder, your throat goes dry when you see Frank standing there, hands on his hips and a knowing, smug expression on his face. 

“How long have you been standing back there?”

“Long enough.” Even from a distance, you catch the amused twinkle in his eye. “What did I tell you?”

You turn away from him, biting your lower lip.

So maybe he’d been right after all.

Maybe you were Joel’s weakness. 

But he was yours too.

#joel miller x you #joel miller imagine #joel miller x reader #joel miller fic #joel miller #joel miller angst #joel miller fluff #tlou fanfiction #tlou imagine #the last of us fanfiction #the last of us fic #joel miller pedro pascal #pedro pascal imagine #joel miller fanfiction #joel miller x y/n #joel miller x f!reader #joel miller x female reader

[peachesofteal]

Can we please please please get some more Simon x single mother au? Possibly him helping in the garden/ keeping emmaline out of trouble while Mom works in the garden

Light on - single mom/neighbor fic Simon Riley/female reader 18+ mdni / mild sexual content

“Ow! fuck!”

Your hand jerks, drawing back to your mouth with a hiss. 

“What is it?” He forces himself still, staring daggers at where the tip of your finger has started to leak blood, a thick drop dripping down the side before you bring it to your mouth, lush lips wrapping around your injury. “Are you alright?” His tone is tightly controlled, even keeled, nonchalant, but on the inside, worry gnaws away at his stomach, chewing through the organ until it’s spilling free and running rampant through his body. 

“There’s a piece of glass in here.” In the garden bed? “Some of the other tenants, hang around up here at night. They usually leave bottles or cans behind.” The worry turns to anger, a simple plan slowly taking shape in his mind, a strategy to find the rooftop partiers, and ensure they never leave glass in your garden again. 

Emmaline cries, nose and brows wrinkled in irritation, and you turn to coo at her, finger still half in your mouth. 

“It’s okay, little pea. Just give me a second.” She continues to fuss, and you sigh, wilting like one of your own little flowers, left too long in the sun without water. You blink, and it’s like you’ve shed your sunlit skin for an exhausted shell. Oh, sweetheart. I know it’s hard, but you don’t have to do it on your own anymore. 

I’m here now. 

“Can I?” He asks softly, warming at how your face lights with relief. 

“Yes, please.” You point to the bottle that’s tucked in the side of the backpack, and he unbuckles her from the bouncer that you lugged up the four flights of stairs earlier, even though he had texted you an hour before and politely suggested you wait for him to be finished his phone call, so he could help you. 

You went up anyway, much to his displeasure. Displeasure, that he had to swallow, permanently. 

You’re not his. Not yet. He can’t be disappointed by resistance or refusal when you don’t even know all the ways he can be there for you yet. He knows you’ll learn. You’re a smart girl. His smart girl. 

Emmaline lays nestled in the crook of his elbow, slightly elevated on her back, and he pops the cap of the bottle easily, rubbing his index finger against her cheek to trigger the reflex that will open her mouth. When it does, he keeps it at the right angle to ensure the formula doesn’t flow too fast into her belly. 

“You’ve done this before.” You murmur, reaching into the backpack for a band aid. You’re studying him, tracing over his face, his hands that are nearly the size of your baby, and he can feel the scrutiny, the curious intensity of your gaze. 

“Had a nephew. I was around a lot, when he was this age.” He had a brother too. And a mother. A sister-in-law. A family. 

Emmaline gurgles around the nipple, and he slips it free, sitting her mostly upright, giving her a gentle pat on the back amid her protestations, little grunts that he’s sure she means as ‘feed me’ and ‘more’. He waits for you to ask him the dreaded questions, the focus on the word had, the inevitable conversation about loss and family and pain, guilt and grief that can make a man feel like he’s been buried alive. 

You don’t.

Instead, you simply say, 

“Emmaline had a dad once, too.” 

It’s nearly 2100 when you knock on his door later, baby monitor in one hand, two amber colored bottles in another. 

“Hey. You busy?” His heart does a double tap inside his chest. Bad timing, the worst. Your sweet mouth is slightly open, hopeful, teeth parted just barely to reveal a flash of tongue, and his jaw clenches against the wild need that catapults through his veins to his cock. What do you taste like? What do you feel like? You motion to the monitor. “Just went down. Figure I have about an hour before I pass out myself and could use some adult time.” Shit. The duffel bag next to the door practically speaks for him, irritatingly reminding him he has a plane to catch in less than two hours. 

“I can’t, I’m about to head out.” Your brow furrows, confusion churning into understanding within a moment, disappointment flickering across your expression before it smooths out. 

“Right. Okay.” 

“I want to.” He hurries the words. “But I travel… for work and I have to be on a flight in a few hours.” You’re already half turning away, slinking off to your apartment, giving him a soft agreement as you go. 

“Sure, yeah.” 

“Wait, sweetheart,” You startle at the pet name, eyes going wide at the inferred affection. “when I get back, let’s… have a drink.” You nod, and he smiles a real smile, barely tugging his lips upward, probably hardly visible to you. The kind of smile he’s been wearing around you these past two weeks, the kind of smile he tries to give Emmaline when she stares at him. 

“Alright, sounds good then.” Your key finds your lock, and he steps out into the hallway, trapping your gaze with his own. 

“You girls be good.” He says, a parting instruction, and a bashful, bewildered smile of your own curves across your mouth. 

“We will.”

#light on #peaches asks #simon riley x reader #simon ghost riley #simon ghost riley x reader #simon riley #peaches writes

[valeskafics]

"I Love Star Wars" - Frat!Rafe Cameron x Nerd!Reader

a/n: from an anon request for rafe with a nerdy reader hehe. i borrowed from some iconic movie insults, so kudos if you recognize them! 🩷

Summary: Rafe makes some startling realizations about himself and his likes when you put him in his place.

Word Count: 4,735

Rating: 18+, MDNI

TW: afab reader, she/her pronouns, profanity, innuendo, idk bullying maybe kinda sorta, rafe being gross, fingering, tiddy succin, degradation kink, mommy kink if you squint, choking, hair pulling, p in v sex, unprotected sex, breeding kink if you squint, reader is coded to have a big booty

Disclaimer: I do not own any of the Outer Banks characters nor do I claim to own them. I do not own any of the images used nor do I claim to own them.

Comments, likes, and reblogs are never required but are immensely appreciated 🩷

Rafe knows he’s in trouble the first time he meets you. It’s the day before his final report for his Communications class is due and he’s barely even started on it. He figures he’ll be able to get away with bullshitting some sort of speech, he just needs to hit the library and find one to emulate. So, he shows up, wearing his hockey sweatshirt, a pair of gym shorts, his SnapBack sitting backward on top of his head, walking into the campus library as if he owns the place. That’s when he sees you, the lone soul in this shitty, depressing place at this hour. He saunters over to you, trying to read your nametag, but realizes you don’t in fact have one. You look up at him with a polite smile, eyes shining behind your glasses.

“Can I help you find something?” Fuck, he thinks he’s already found it. After a moment, he nods, asking you if you can lead him to the Communications books. You nod, gesturing for him to follow you, “It’s kinda hard to find, just follow me.”

Your hoodie is fairly unassuming, but he can hardly tear his eyes away from how your ass fills out those jeans as you walk. God damn, he’s going to be thinking about this for weeks. You come to a stop, and he’s so immersed in checking you out that he almost plows right into you. You turn to him, pointing toward the next aisle over.

“It’s organized alphabetically by title, so you should be okay. The librarian’s left for the night, so it’s just me. I can’t special order anything, but I can check out your rentals.”

“It’s just you?” Rafe questions, resting his forearm against the shelf behind you, leaning in close as he whispers, cocking an eyebrow, “So what happens if I’m feeling a little… Naughty, Miss Librarian?”

You narrow your eyes, pursing your lips slightly as you reply, “We don’t have an adult books section. I’d suggest you go home and rub one out, frat boy.”

Rafe’s jaw drops as you walk away, though he continues to admire that ass as you disappear from sight. He sighs to himself before turning to the shelf, frowning as he tries to figure out what book is going to fucking help him finish this assignment. Unable to narrow it down, he grabs the three he thinks he needs and shuffles over to the counter, holding them out to you. 

You snatch them out of his hands before declaring, “You can only check out two books at a time. Pick one to put back.”

He eyes you up and down, a sly smile playing on his lips, “Is that a policy or your personal rule, Miss Librarian?”

“It’s school policy.”

“Well that’s no fun,” Rafe leans in, grinning at you, eyes sparkling with amusement, “You look like you could use a little more fun in your life, don’t you think?”

“How about I go throw myself in front of the campus bus? That would be more fun than this conversation,” you retort, tossing one book aside, scanning the other two before shoving them back in his hand, “Thanks. Don’t come again.”

Rafe is taken aback by your hostility for a fleeting moment, but he recovers quickly, questioning, “I think you’re just trying to act tough, but these bitchy little comments? They just tell me that you want me. You’re playing hard to get. I respect the hustle.”

“Delusions of grandeur are usually indicative of a deeper psychological problem.”

“You always this unfriendly?”

“I don’t know, are you always this naggy?” You counter, “Anyway, we’re closing.”

“Aw, I know what it is,” he nods sagely, the sight of which has you ready to smack him, “You’ve never been hit on by a hottie like me before. That’s what’s got you all worked up. Not used to the rich, preppy, sexy athletes.”

“Well, I’m not exactly your demographic’s type,” you scoff, gesturing to your glasses, “Now can you leave?”

“You’d be surprised. Dorky chicks like you turn me on too.”

“Interesting. However, I don’t have a thing for frat boys. Bye!”

Rafe is unceremoniously shoved out of the library, the door slammed in his face. He lets out a huff of annoyance. Did you just… Blow him off? What the actual fuck? No one gets to blow him off like that! This is ridiculous. And why does he feel so amped up after you were such a bitch to him? It was oddly… Exhilarating. He walks back to his room to finish his studying, his mind consumed with thoughts of the girl who insulted him at the library.

Though he doesn’t actually see you again until the following semester begins.

It’s the first day of classes, and Rafe can hardly believe his luck. There you are, sitting up in the front row. You look just as good as he remembers. You’re wearing those same skinny jeans, your hair tied up, glasses framing your pretty face, and a Star Wars tee shirt. It’s weirdly hot to him in a way he can’t explain. He knows that you’ve written him off as some dumb jock frat boy, but all this time he’s had you on his mind. There’s an edge to you. Something he wants desperately. 

So, he comes and takes the empty seat right beside you. You do your best to ignore him, completely avoiding eye contact, typing away on your laptop. But from what Rafe can see? You’re just typing gibberish. 

So, he leans over slightly, keeping his voice low and smooth as he tries to make polite conversation, “Hey. So, we’re in this class together. What’s your major?” 

He doesn’t receive a response, only your withering glare. Rafe wants to guess that you’re a History or Psychology major, but he’s proven wrong at your clipped response.

“STEM. And let me guess, you’re…” You give him a condescending smile, “Communications.”

“Close,” Rafe grins, “Business Management. You always so judgmental?”

“You always so annoying?”

“Depends who I’m talking to,” Rafe replies, a definite hint of flirtation as he does, “Anyway, you’re pretty hot for a nerd, you know that? Those glasses are really doing it for me, shorty.”

The nickname makes you grimace, but you still answer in a biting tone, “Thanks. I’m really living my suburban teenage fantasy right now, having some alpha male douchebag call me a nerd while simultaneously hitting on me.”

That big dumb grin on his face fades slightly, an irritated edge to his voice as he replies, “You know what you look like with those glasses? You look like a nerd. Though you’re kinda cute when you’re not acting like a little brat.”

“I’m sorry, I forgot the great Rafe Cameron has blessed me with his attention. Let me offer a blood sacrifice in your honor.”

Rafe eyes you up and down as you roll your eyes and pull out your notebook. Why is he so fucking interested in you? He doesn’t understand it. Why are you all he can think about? Every time you insult him, he can’t help but want to prove himself to you even more.

“You know, that body though. It’s unbelievable.”

Your eye twitches in annoyance, “Excuse me?”

He leans in, intent on provoking you even further, “Yeah. Didn’t you hear me, babe? Those curves really got me going, shorty.”

“You’re a pig,” you reply dryly, “And what do you think, you’re Justin Bieber or something? No one says ‘shorty’ anymore, white boy.”

“Damn, calm down. Did I touch a nerve by calling you out on that ass? I mean, you can’t blame a man for noticing. Those jeans don’t lie and, baby girl, you’re thicc. I’m lovin’ it.”

“You’re disgusting. Calling you a pig is an insult to pigs.”

Rafe watches as you scowl, looking around for another seat. However, you don’t appear to find one, sitting back down dejectedly, burying your face in your hands.

“So, tell me, princess. Is all that junk in the trunk natural? Because it’s gotta be the Eighth Wonder of the World if it is.”

“Are you fucking kidding me?”

“No, it’s phenomenal.”

It’s lucky that the lecture starts right then and you’re able to ignore Rafe and begin scribbling away at your notes. Judging by how tense your body is, he thinks he was about three comments away from giving you an aneurysm. You’re so focused on your coursework that you don’t even notice the way he stares at you, unfocused as his gaze wanders the expanse of your body. The way your glasses frame your eyes, bits of hair falling in your face… Everything about you excites him.

Rafe snaps out of his dreamy state when you raise your hand, answering a question the professor has asked. That’s when he learns your name, committing it to memory. And fuck, your voice? You sound so goddamn smart when you give your answer. And when you’re not busy insulting someone? It’s so… 

Pretty.

When class ends and you’ve shoved your belongings in your bag, Rafe calls out to you, resting a hand on your shoulder, not firmly enough to hold you in place, but enough to get your attention. You let out a groan of frustration, glancing at him as you question what the fuck he wants.

“Listen, I know I was being a dick earlier-”

“At least you’re self aware.”

“Look, just listen to me for a second! Maybe I came on a little strong at first-”

“A little?” You repeat, giving him an incredulous look, “You talked about my ass for like five minutes!”

“Well, I mean, there is a lot to talk about-”

His cock twitches in his jeans at the way you narrow your eyes, glaring up at him, “And this is your big apology?”

Rafe shrugs, leaning in, a dirty little smirk playing on his lips, “Listen, princess. I’m a bit of a jerk sometimes. You’re gonna have to get over it.”

“Why am I gonna have to ‘get over it’ when I can just avoid you?”

He continues following you as the two of you leave the lecture hall, easily keeping up with your brisk pace due to how stupidly long his legs are, “Yeah, I mean, you can. But you could also just accept that you’re hot and guys are gonna comment on it. You’re obviously not used to having a dude be as interested in you as I am. I can tell.”

“Do you not have anything better to do? Like some sorority girl to fuck or a kegger to attend?”

“Hey, I like a challenge.”

“So if I start being nice to you, you’ll leave me alone?”

Rafe arches a brow, “Uh, I mean-”

He doesn’t bother to hold back his laughter as you clasp your hands together, batting your eyelashes at him in an exaggerated manner, your voice high-pitched and shrill, “Ooo, Rafey, you look sooooo hot today, like, oh my God, I can’t even.”

“Damn, you’re sarcastic. That’s really hot.”

You shake your head, dropping your skateboard on the ground, another surprise, “Look. Let’s get something straight. I’m not your ‘bae’. I’m not your ‘shawty’. I’m not even going to be your friend. So take a hint and get lost.”

He watches you skate away, your middle finger high in the air, the gesture no doubt aimed toward him.

Damn, you’re something.

Upon asking around campus, Rafe learns a lot about you. You’re a physics and chemical engineering double major with a minor in English lit. You’re on the robotics team, you love Star Wars, and you collect old school Marvel comic books. He commits every single thing about you to memory, mind consumed by thoughts of you. That sassy mouth, the way you stand up to him without a second thought. He’s so used to being flocked by people like Topper and Kelce and Sophia who listen to whatever he says, never challenging him. Never calling him out on his shit. You’re so different.

He sees you in the quad the next day, passing out flyers for a position being open on the robotics team, wearing a Star Wars tee shirt. Great, a conversation starter. He approaches you, confident with a huge smile on his face.

“Oh God,” you mutter, a tension headache already incoming at his mere presence.

“I love Star Wars.”

“Really?” You drawl, “What was your favorite?”

“The one one with the, uh, little fuzzy guys. The teddy bears.”

“Ewoks.”

“Sure. Anyway, can I get one of those flyers?”

You scoff, shaking your head, “No. Absolutely the fuck not.”

“Aw, come on,” Rafe whines, giving you what he’s sure is his most adorable smile, “It can’t be that difficult to get a flyer, shorty.”

“You? Interested in the robotics team? I call bullshit. So no.”

“What, so I’m not good enough for your team? You’re being racist now, shorty.”

You give him an annoyed glare before blurting out, “You’re white! I literally cannot be racist to you!”

“Reverse racism.”

“We have a minimum GPA requirement of 3.2 and I’m pretty sure you’re under that,” you reply, giving a passing student a flyer, “What’s the SAE and hockey team requirement? 2.0? Yeah, no. Bye.”

“C’s get degrees, girl! I’m busy focusing on hockey and partying and my girls.” He can see how annoyed you’re getting and decides to ramp it up a notch, “So, my charms finally getting through to you? Finally gonna admit you’re into hot alpha athletes?”

“You’re so not an alpha. You’re a sigma. At best.”

Rafe’s jaw drops slightly at your response, “Wha- What do you mean at best?! And what the hell is a sigma?? You’re just making stuff up now!”

“Aren’t you the SAE president?” You snark, “Sigma Alpha Epsilon?”

Rafe blinks, surprised at how much you know about him, before mumbling, “Oh, so that’s what it stands for…”

You shake your head, sighing to yourself, “You know, you’re so clueless that it’s almost adorable.”

He stares after you as you walk away, admiring your ass in those jeans.

“Wait, you think I’m adorable?? Babe, I think we’re really getting somewhere!”

Is changing up his morning jog schedule and route to match yours pathetic? Yes, yes it is. 

Does Rafe care? No, no he does not.

As he comes bounding up to you, looking almost like some sort of overgrown puppy, you give him an annoyed glare, “Rafe.”

“I have a question for you.” He pauses, “Will you go on a date with me?”

“Absolutely not.”

“Why not?” He almost whines, “I’m hot, you’re hot. It’s a great match. You know I’m right.”

“Nice try, Casanova, but no thank you.”

The two of you come to a stop by the water fountain, and you can practically feel him undressing you with his eyes as you lean forward to fill your water bottle. Dammit, are you going to have to stop wearing leggings for your run? Jesus, this guy is obsessed with your ass.

“Why the hell not? What’s wrong with me?”

You glare at him, the anger in your eyes making his stomach twist in anticipation, his cock straining against the fabric of the basketball shorts he’s come out to jog in. He watches you inhale sharply through your nose before you begin to speak.

“I think… No. I am positive that you are the most unattractive man I have ever met in my entire life. In the short time I’ve known you, you’ve demonstrated every loathsome characteristic of the male personality, and even discovered a few new ones. You’re physically repulsive, intellectually stunted, morally reprehensible, vulgar, insensitive, selfish, stupid.” Just as he thinks you’ve finished and is about to reply, you continue, “You have no taste, a lousy sense of humor, and you smell. You’re not even interesting enough to make me sick.”

Rafe is rendered silent for a long moment, staring at you with wide eyes before he finally replies, “Holy shit. I’d ask where all that came from, but it’s more fun trying to figure out for myself. I’m not gonna lie, this shit is turning me on, shorty.”

You look at him, the shock and abject horror on your face being worth a million dollars as you question, “You… I… You’re getting off on this?!”

“A little,” he answers honestly.

“What the hell is wrong with you?” You scowl, turning to jog in the other direction, “Jesus fucking Christ!”

“Wait, come back, shorty! I wanna hear more of the mean things you have to say about me! I’ve never been this hard in my life, wait up!”

“Oh my god, you’re disgusting!”

“I love it when you talk dirty, keep going, baby.”

Rafe finally makes some sort of progress with you one night when he comes to the library to pick up a book for the assignment he’s working on in one of his classes. As usual, he’s about to make a beeline over to you, but he sees that you look more stressed out than usual, eyes watering slightly. He frowns, coming closer, wanting to do nothing more than wrap you in his arms and fix whatever it is that’s bothering you. To take you away somewhere, to treat you like a princess. He watches as the head librarian rails into you about something, your lower lip trembling slightly as you nod, mumbling your apologies.

“What’s happening?” He whispers, approaching you.

“Nothing,” you mumble, wiping at your eyes quickly, doing your best to ignore your boss’s screaming.

Rafe knows it’s not nothing. And so, he turns to the librarian, mouth set in a firm line.

He’s never been one to play knight in shining armor before. But for you? He’s ready to take on the world. You watch in astonishment as Rafe tells your boss that she’s making a mountain out of a molehill, that every time he’s come into the library, you’ve been nothing short of professional and helpful. That you’re extremely intelligent and she should be ashamed of herself for being such a cranky old hag. You cover your mouth, doing your level best not to burst into laughter as she offers a half-hearted apology and scurries away.

“Damn,” you comment, “You really gave it to her.”

Rafe shrugs, “She deserved it. I don’t like seeing pretty girls cry.” He pauses before smirking, “Well, unless it’s me doing it.”

You roll your eyes, watching as he walks away. At the last moment, just before he’s about to leave the library, you call out to him.

“Hey, Rafe?”

He turns back, “Yeah?”

“Thank you.”

He beams at you, scratching the back of his neck before blurting out, “Maybe if you really wanna thank me, you can let me take you out on that date? One date, no strings. If you don’t like me, you can leave anytime.”

You think for a moment before nodding, “Okay.”

“When you said I could leave anytime, you didn’t mention I’d have to jump into the middle of the goddamn ocean!”

Rafe smirks as you climb onboard the Druthers, pushing his sunglasses up the bridge of his nose, “Come on. I saw your Tinder profile. You said you love the ocean.”

“Yeah, from far away,” you reply snarkily, “Not in this boat! You know, statistically speaking, a whale could totally just whack us with its tail, we go flying, our bodies are never recovered-”

You’re cut off when Rafe leans in and squishes your cheeks together, a grin on his face as he teases you, “God, you’re a nerd.”

You roll your eyes, batting his hands away as the two of you walk over toward the bridge. You watch with slight interest as he unties the ropes and the two of you set sail. Rafe takes pride in showing you around the boat, and you have to admit, it’s kind of adorable how excited he is to be able to do this with you. The guy has even gotten a chilled bottle of Dom Perignon with some chocolate covered strawberries waiting for the two of you when you get a little bit further out to see. You watch him curiously over the rim of the flute you sip the expensive beverage from, and Rafe notices, his cheeks flushing slightly, though he claims it to be from a combination of the heat and the alcohol.

“You’re…” You trail off, “Not as horrendous as I thought you were. We’ve been sitting up here this whole time and you haven’t made one gross comment about my ass in this swimsuit.”

“Trust me, I may not have said anything, shorty, but I am looking-”

You burst into laughter, shaking your head, “I guess I gotta respect your honesty.”

“So,” Rafe questions, moving to sit closer to you, wrapping his arm around the backside of your seat, the ocean waves gently rocking the boat to and fro, the sun shining down on your skin, “What made you finally say yes?”

You look into those blue eyes, a smile playing on your lips. In truth, it was a lot of things. But you decide to tell him the main reason.

“What you did for me, with my boss? That was really cool of you. And you weren’t pushy about asking for a date after, so I figured I might as well give you a shot.” You pause before adding, “Don’t think it means I like you or anything, though.”

“Oh, no. We can’t have that. You might actually start being nice to me or something.”

You smirk, “Me? Nice to you? Not in a million years, puckhead.”

Rafe snorts out a laugh, leaning in closer to you, so close that if one of you moves even an inch, your lips will be touching, “Um, can I ask a question?”

“Do you mean ‘may’?”

He rolls his eyes, “Okay, Miss Librarian. May I kiss you?”

“Hm,” you pretend to think for a long moment, enjoying the desperation in his gaze, “Do you really deserve to kiss me?”

“I don’t know if anyone does,” Rafe murmurs, the tip of his nose brushing against yours, “But if anyone gets to, I want it to be me.”

There’s something so honest, so raw and vulnerable in his words, that you can’t resist. You pull him into a heated kiss, moving to straddle his lap. Rafe’s hands rest on the curve of your ass as he moans against your mouth, nipping softly at your lower lip, pleading for you to let him in. And, after teasing him a few seconds more, you do. Your arms wrap around him, your chest pressed flush against his, bodies warmed by the sun as you kiss passionately. Rafe’s hands slide under the fabric of your denim shorts, and he snickers to himself.

“Can’t believe you’re wearing a Darth Vader swimsuit.”

“Shut the fuck up,” you mutter in annoyance, nipping at his earlobe, making him giggle to himself even louder, “You wanted a nerd, you got one, frat boy.”

“I definitely want a nerd,” he mumbles, tossing your shorts aside, hands squeezing at the flesh of your ass.

You moan into his mouth, smiling into the kiss as you toss his stupid SnapBack aside. Sure, you’ve had a few drunken kisses at some high school parties, a few failed hookups, but nothing like this. You push Rafe down, your hands resting on his chest, unbuttoning his shirt, littering the exposed skin with kisses as you move further and further down to the waistband of his swim trunks. He watches with amazement as you mouth at his cock over the fabric, groaning as you tease him.

“You’re this hard already? And all we’ve done is kiss? Kinda pathetic, Rafe.”

“Fuck, I love it when you’re mean to me,” he moans, struggling to keep himself from bucking his hips against your face, “Love it when you call me out on my shit. Need you to keep me in line, ma. Gonna do that for me?”

“I’ll consider it.”

Rafe tugs at the straps of your swimsuit eagerly, eyes going wide when he sees your tits, lips immediately moving to wrap around one of your nipples. He moans against your soft flesh, his tongue caressing the smooth bud as you guide his hand toward the apex between your thighs. You tug at Rafe’s hair as he moves your swimsuit aside, burying two ring-clad fingers knuckle-deep inside your pussy. You let out a moan, the cool metal of his rings rubbing against your clit as you grind yourself down against him. Part of you thinks that Rafe might be getting off on getting you off, judging by the look on his face.

You smirk to yourself, squishing his cheeks together much as he did to you earlier, “Awww, is this getting you all excited, baby? Making me feel good?”

“Yeah,” he admits, groaning as he moves his fingers faster, watching you let out a shuddering gasp as he rubs up against that spongy spot deep inside you, “Fuck, ma, you’re so tight. Can’t wait to be inside you, oh my God…”

Your stomach tightens as you move your hips down against his fingers, his mouth moving to your other tit as he eagerly suckles at you. It feels so much better than your own fingers, than any stupid toy you’ve ever used, because when you get to the edge, he doesn’t stop. He keeps going, making you spill yourself all over his fingers. You watch with amusement as he pulls them out of you, eagerly licking the evidence of your arousal, moaning at your sweet taste. You don’t think you’ve ever felt more desired in your entire life than you do right now, with Rafe gazing up at you like you’re some sort of goddess. You move off of him, ridding yourself of your swimsuit, eagerly tugging at his trunks. Your eyes widen slightly at how long and girthy he is. Seeing the little smirk on his face, you immediately decide to humble him, grabbing him just hard enough to make him wince, but not enough to cause any real pain.

“Don’t get cocky.”

Rafe lets out a little whimper as you push him back onto the couch, nodding with a grin, “Yes, ma’am.”

He watches with amazement as you sink down onto him, your warm, wet cunt taking him in so fucking perfectly. Rafe has had sex before, sure, but nothing like this. He watches as you bounce on his cock, his hands squeezing at your ass, urging you on. You look fucking incredible. You give him a cheeky smile, one of your hands gently squeezing at his throat.

“You’re almost cute when you learn to shut the fuck up.”

Rafe laughs breathlessly, his eyes rolling back as you pull yourself up and sink back down onto him, your warmth enveloping him over and over, feeling so fucking tight around him. He feels his stomach tighten, your flesh so soft and supple in his palms, the noises the two of you make echoing throughout the stateroom aboard the Druthers.

“Will you be my girlfriend?” He manages to eke out as he bucks his hips up eagerly against yours, “I really like you, and uh, fuck, oh fuck, ma, that feels so good…”

“And what?” You taunt, slowing your movements, “Use your words.”

“I want you. I want you to keep calling me out. Putting me in my place,” he groans, “Want you to talk about all your nerdy shit with me. Wanna go to your robotics competitions. Want you to come to my hockey games wearing my jersey, be the one standing next to me at all my frat’s parties. Wanna kiss you when we graduated, oh fuck, babe, I’m cumming.”

“Then cum for me, baby,” you coo, whispering against his ear, “Be a good boy and fill me up.”

The both of you are sent reeling from how intense the sex was, minds buzzing with millions of things to say but no energy to say them.

You’re the one who breaks the silence, turning to give him a lazy grin, “Yeah. Yeah, I’ll be your girlfriend, you fucking dork. Wear your jersey and shit.”

Rafe snickers, pressing his lips to yours, “Yeah? Well, thanks, nerd.”

The two of you burst into giggles, pouring yourselves another glass of champagne, continuing your first date aboard the Druthers.

The first of many more dates to come.

#rafe cameron x reader #rafe cameron x you #rafe cameron smut #rafe x you #rafe x reader #rafe cameron #rafe smut #rafe imagine #rafe fanfiction #rafe cameron imagine #rafe cameron fanfiction #my writing #rafe oneshot

[too-much-tma-stuff]

Finally getting help (prt 4)

Masterpost

The bats worked through the night, coordinating and researching everything that needed to be done. Distortion showed up on the camera which they assumed was Vlad trying to get in but he didn’t manage it. After he finished trying from multiple angels including somehow from directly above (well Zatana did say invisibility, intangibility, and flight were the minimal powers they should expect from creatures of the infinite realms.) He turned human again and spent a long time banging on their front door.

He tried to call the cops but commissioner Gordon called Bruce directly to get the full story then told Vlad it could be dealt with in the morning. Zatana was also coordinating people heading to Amity, a full on raid of the GIW, and the Fentons.

Batman and Superman were collecting all the information that the raid team was sending out and workshopping public statements they could sent out to the public and the government about the unacceptable things they had found and the steps the JL was taking to fix it. The government was not going to be happy they knew, with the JL ‘over-stepping’ into their business and actually getting the word out about the atrocities a branch of their government and their pet scientists had been planning. The JL needed to get out ahead of it before the narrative could be twisted against them.

It was first thing in the morning when they did a live broadcast from the watchtower with Batman, Superman, and Zatana telling the world about the parallel world existing harmlessly along side their own, and the way the government tried to exploit it. The atrocities committed under the name of the Anti-Ecto acts with the ignorance of the public as a cover.

It was at the same time that Constantine, Dick, and Cas were raiding the Fenton’s home. Of course they were armed, but so were the bats, and they were used to fighting people who were armed. It wasn’t a particularly hard fight.

A redhead was sitting wide eyed at the kitchen table. “Can’t we just have one normal day!” She suddenly snapped but she was glaring at her parents, standing up and slamming her hands on the table.  “First you send Danny away with Vlad even though you KNOW they hate each other and it’s a school day and now this! What did you do to bring the heroes down on us!?”

“I don’t know Jazzybear!” Jack half whined as he was forced into power supressing cuffs to neutralize his minor super strength and sat down in the living room.

“I’m sure this is just a misunderstanding, don’t worry sweetie,” Maddie added, both of them were dressed in jump suits which did not help their supervillain vibes.

“it’s not a mistake mate, you’ve been messing with shit you really shouldn’t. And that portal in your basement is a fucking beacon welcoming a war. You’ve gone unchecked for too god damn long, we’re taking over things now.” Constantine told them before stalking down into the basement with Tim on his heels, Batman would be joining them as soon as they were done their press conference.

Cas stayed to watch the parents and Dick approached Jazz gently. “Hey can I talk to you in private please? It’s about your brother,” He said gently and she stiffened immediately. Looking at him in a way that made him feel like she could see straight into his soul and froze him to the spot. After a moment though she just sighed and nodded, beckoning to him to follow her upstairs, to a room that was probably Danny’s not her own. She sat on his bed and grabbed a bear that had been sitting on the edge, waving for him to sit at the desk.

“So, what do you know?” She asked with a sigh.

“Well, last night Vlad took Danny to a Wayne Gala, one of Bruce’s daughter Cas is really good with body language and clocked that something was wrong so she and one of the other kids got him away from Vlad and out of the party. I guess he really needed some adult support because he broke down and told them a lot, about the Phantom thing, the ghosts and… something you’re not going to like. But first I want you to know he’s safe, Bruce Wayne is a licensed foster parent and he’s taking good care of Danny, you can come live with them too if you want.

“We’re going to deal with the ghosts and the GIW and everything else now, I can’t promise by the end of this you won’t need somewhere else to go. I have a feeling if Batman and the Martian family have anything to say about this your parents will end up in prison for their unethical experiments.”

“As long as Danny is okay,” Jazz said firmly. “I was only staying to take care of him anyway, just get me emancipated and a scholarship for Gotham U so I can study while still being close to him I’ll be fine. I’m almost 18 as it is.”

Dick nodded, she was a smart and driven girl, she knew what she wanted, he could respect that. “Now, the thing you won’t like…” he trailed off and took a deep breath. “Danny is pregnant.”

“What!?“ Jazz blanched, gaping at him for a long minute. “That can’t be right! I mean I knew he was trans but he’s usually only interested in girls, how would he even-“ She cut off her eyes widening. “It was Vlad wasn’t it?” She gritted out with an expression the promised excruciating violence.

“Yes,” Dick said shifting awkwardly in his chair.

“Right.” Jazz said and got up, coldly calm. “If you’ll excuse me, I’ll be right back.” She grabbed a baseball bat from next to Danny’s bed that seemed to be glowing slightly then marched to the other side of the room, opened a cabinet and pulled out two odd looking guns. Before Dick could say much of anything she had vaulted out of the window and taking off down the street.

“Oh dear,” Dick muttered faintly before heading back downstairs. “Hey Cas can we turn on the news, some sort of local station?” He asked. Cas nodded and searched around for the remote, turning it on to find the channel was already on local news.

Vlad was already on there, talking about how it was awful Bruce Wayne had Kidnapped a local child Danial Fenton, and he could not be allowed to get away with this just because he was rich! But that didn’t last long, they watched for a few minutes before a blur of red hair and blue rushed past the camera.

“YOU TOUCHED MY BROTHER YOU CREEP!” Jazz said as she came out swinging and she must have quite the arm because her first swing sent him nearly flying off the stage. He scrambled to get up as she lunged at him again.

“Now Jasmine you’ve clearly been misinformed, I didn’t do anything-“ His muffled voice was cut off as she swung the bat again and he yelped as she hit him in the stomach.

“YOU GOT HIM PREGNANT! YOU DID THIS! YOU SHOULD BEHIND BARS NOT BEHIND A PODIUM YOU FROOTLOOP!” She shrieked as she swung again and this time he managed to dodge. The cameras following them as Jazz chased him down the street, the sound of his supplications and her shrieking fading out as they became more and more distant.

It took a frantic moment for the camera angle to switch to something else, maybe a drone, which was able to follow them down the street.

“You Don’t UNDERSTAND! I didn’t want to hurt him! I just wanted a perfect son! If he had just agreed to be my son none of this would have happened! When I knew it failed I told him to let them die!” Vlad yelled at her, though that did NOT seem to comfort Jazz at all. She had devolved into shrieking book titles like curses as she chased him with the bat and shot at him with the guns though her aim didn’t seem very good.

Well they had him admitting to it on camera now. As he watched a new actor joined the fray, a girl in a red jumpsuit holding a blaster.

“You did what to Danny!?” She demanded as she pointed the blaster at Vlad.

“Oh cheespuffs!” Vlad breathed, his eyes widening as Jazz trailed off letting who must be Red Huntress take over the chase as Vlad shouted about how he had made her! He had given her her weapons she couldn’t use them against him! Which did not seem to be stopping her.

The camera fuzzed out for just a second and then Valery was chasing a ghost with red eyes and a white outfit. Cas was laughing silently at the show and both of the Fenton parents seemed to be in shock. A few minutes later Jazz walked back in through the front door looking tired.

“Turn that off please,” she sighed as she put the bat down.

“Of course,” Cas agreed and picked up the remote again, turning off the tv. 

“Vlad didn’t actually do that, did he Jazzy?” Jack asked softly, he sounded so hurt, as if he had any fucking right!

Jazz looked at him blankly. “How many times have we tried to warn you about him? How many times has Danny told you he didn’t feel safe with Vlad? But as usual you couldn’t see past your own desires. I’m going to go see if the trenchcoat guy needs any help getting into your files,” She sighed before vanishing downstairs. 

Dick glanced at Cas, and then followed them, she would have no trouble watching the Fentons and staying quiet whereas Dick felt like he was about to explode. Batman joined them before long and between the three of them they shut the bulkheads on the portal and locked them, secured dangerous chemicals and devices, and downloaded everything they could. There were plenty of prototypes and blueprints, and stuff that could generously be called research.

It was obvious these people were geniuses but it was even more obvious that at some point they had become careless and obsessive. Half of the writing on the blueprints wasn’t legible, dangerous chemicals were not in proper containment, and the weapons were not locked up. Looking at all of this it wasn’t surprising that two of the people they had been involving in their research suffered exposure, it was a surprise more hadn’t. It was easy to tell when Bruce came down he was horrified, it was in the way he froze when he saw the lab, as if his brain was struggling to process just how irresponsible the Fenton parents had been.

“You must be Jazz, it’s nice to meet you. Danny speaks highly of you,” He finally rebooted to say when she waved at him. 

“I love my little brother, I always did the best I could to keep him safe from… all this,” Jazz said gesturing at the lab with a sigh. “I wish it had done any good.”

“You did plenty of good,” Dick put in. “Trust me, to a kid having someone care about them can make all the difference. 

“All those nights I patched him up after he came back from fighting ghosts. He healed fast but still. I can’t believe… he’s already been through so much and we knew Vlad was up to something! Ellie said she was our cousin but she looked just like him, I should have kept a closer eye on-” She cut off and shook her head. “He’s a good kid, of course if he couldn’t give the babies up, even if it would be better for them if he did. I hope he knows I’d support him either way, I hope he didn’t not tell me because he thought I’d be upset at Him.”

“I’m sure he didn’t,” Dick assured her gently. “Being a big sibling is hard, I know. But trust me you’re doing a great job, better than I did with my brothers,” he said, patting her shoulder. “You can ask him yourself later though. We have a lot to get done today to make sure he’s safe.”

She nodded stubbornly and doubled down on her work, directing them occasionally to where she knew they’d find more weapons or logs. She knew her way around the lab to a disturbing extent. 

Bruce and Dick both got a notification from Agent A saying that after a substantial sleep in Danny had woken up and was having breakfast. He seemed worried about the family but he was taking it alright, especially since he knew they were busy people. It did motivate Dick to clear things up as soon as they could so that they could get back to Danny though. The last thing he needed was More stress!

They had plenty of evidence of the Fenton parents breaking the law to call the police and have them taken away which gave them all the time they needed to strip the house. They got everything they could and decided to leave Constantine at the house to watch the portal until they could figure out how to shut it down completely without causing any damage. It seemed unstable so they didn’t want to risk it just now, especially without Danny’s input because according to Jazz Danny had made genuine connections in the Infinite Realms. 

They wrapped up this stage of the investigation before dinner after being up for about 36 hours. Of course they weren’t Done, there was still plenty to do investigating the government, how they’d gotten away with this and if they had any other nasty tricks up their sleeve. They’d have to manage any backlash from this unilateral move, and they’d have to figure out what to tell the public about Danny since Bruce would be fostering him. But all that could be done after having a family dinner with their new brother and a nap. 

part 5

@blacksea21090 @zline @sebas-nights @littlefeather345 @isnt-that-grape @idontgetpaidenoughforthisshit @shadowkatt99 @fantasticstoryteller @sithlordchimchnga @fanfictionforme2 @iamalittlefangirl25 @bushbees @yotsubaayase @genius11rare @thomasdimensor @ultimatebluff @lady-phoenix-of-tardis @vivavelle @phoenixdemonqueen @jaggedheart11 @amyheart19 @ashenfairytale @thedragonqueen1998 @quotesandanime @j-joshi @unknown707 @baby-glowstick @okami-love @felicityroth @blackroserelina @wanderwithwings @shephardking @stargirl1331 @supermcraig @tkiesai @thegatorsgoose @mushroomymoss @llavalada @drownthesun @theraccoonempire @ark12 @telidina @dasha022

Please subscribe to the masterpost everyone! the tag list is getting a bit to big for me to manage ^^;

#dc x dp #danny phantom #fanfiction #batman #bad parents jack and maddie #bamf Jazz #jasmine fenton #nightwing #dick grayson #cassandra cain #implied abuse tw #tw sa implied #Red Robin #superman #zatana #john constantine #danny is pregnant au #mama danny #vlad plasmius #vlad is a creep #trans!danny